Be My Valentine #05

In a determined motion, Boros plunged his snout onto Borz’s massive member, his tongue, both rough and smooth, sliding over the orc’s reddened glans. Borz’s coarse hair bristled instantly, an electric shiver racing up his furry spine as raw pleasure overwhelmed him. “Fuck!” he spat, his massive chest jerking upright, elbows digging into the mattress to steady himself. His hybrid eyes, gleaming with predatory savagery, locked onto Boros, who, unfazed, devoured his cock with an almost animalistic greed.

Boros, nostrils flaring, withdrew his left hand from the throbbing shaft, leaving his maw alone to keep the pulsing tool in place. His thick lips and hot breath enveloped the appendage, and he began to pump with growing frenzy, each movement deeper, more ravenous. The orc’s eyes widened, stunned by the minotaur’s vigor, his lycaon tail thrashing the bed in a chaotic rhythm. “Fuck, are you serious?! You’re not gonna fit it all in your snout, are you?!” he blurted, half-excited, half-incredulous. Boros, too absorbed in his mission, paid no heed, his horns swaying slightly with each thrust as he relentlessly worked to break the orc under pleasure.

Hoarse moans escaped Borz as the minotaur’s expert tongue danced along the bulging veins of his member. A thick bead of precum began to glisten, shimmering under the room’s light, and Boros, far from slowing, welcomed it with silent greed, his lips quivering around the taut flesh. Panting, the orc rasped between breaths, “Umph… You should’ve warned me sooner that you were starving for a big slab of meat to stuff your rutting bovine muzzle!”

At those words, Boros’s red eyes, until then lowered to his task, snapped up sharply, meeting the orc’s gaze. A fierce glint burned in them, almost angry, as if the insult had stung his pride. Never had the minotaur shown such submission to Borz, he who usually imposed his brute strength without yielding. But in Boros’s mind, this moment held a special flavor. It was February 14th, Valentine’s Day, a human custom he’d stumbled upon during his wanderings in Greenwood. Where men offered flowers or sweet words, Boros had chosen a more primal, more bestial path: satisfying his orc companion’s carnal desires, sealing their bond in visceral intimacy.

Without a word, he sped up even more, his low growls vibrating against Borz’s skin, his massive hands gripping the orc’s hairy thighs to hold him steady.

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This work will be available in the March package (Level 2/3/4) at the end of March