Due to the Hookup of Epic Proportions rewrite, this story is being taken offline until that rewrite is fully posted. Then I'll redo these chapters to reflect the changes. And if I'm not completely worn out, I'll continue on this fic for a while longer. :)
A/N: Timing-wise, this story begins within days of Hookup. Consider also that it is roughly August of 3021, Third Age.
Trouble in Paradise
Akhûna bolted awake, her heart hammering in her chest, breath coming in gasps. Red eyes wide, she scanned the chamber. Her body shook and sweat stood out on her skin.
There it was again: the plaintive, pain-filled cry of a tark, echoing through the tunnels. The sound took her back to Dol Guldur for a moment, and her gut clenched. She could barely see in the dark anymore; age had robbed her of so much more than just the ability to bear pups for her mate. Instinct and scent guided her searching hands as she clumsily fumbled about the bedding, scrabbled through the hides, looking for...
Relief flooded her when her questing fingers brushed Barash's hip. Without a word, Akhûna cleaved to his side, wrapping her arms about his squat torso. She heard his grunt as his arm encircled her, holding her close.
"Ssshh, my shaûk," he murmured. "We ain't there no more."
She took deep breaths to calm herself. It was several minutes before she regained her composure, banished the memories, and listened.
They were at it again. Shagal playing with her pet. By the sound of it, Fulak had given in and joined her. A scowl contorted the Orcess's face.
"I want that tark outta my den," she growled. "She don't listen to me. You gotta be the one, Barash. Throw the baggage out, or I'm killin' your whelp and I'm tossin' it out."
"She's yours too, my one," Barash pointed out, though with little conviction. "Hate to take away her favorite toy."
"Spoil her rotten, you do," Akhûna snarled, her tone softening. She idly stroked his chest, her fingers remembering the strength of his youth. Were she in a better mood, she'd read the stories etched there, every last one a tale of glory. "Always bring trouble, them tarks. I won't have a baalak in my den," she warned.
Barash chuckled, turning his head to nuzzle her. "Won't ruin her if she whelps for that bit of shit. And I don't think you got much to worry about in any case; she starts swellin' with a pup, Fulak'll see to it."
"Only if he knows it ain't his, and I don't think he'd figure it out til it drops," Akhûna groused. "That boy lets her get away with about as much as you do, yuh weak-willed bastard."
"Our bonded mates've got us by the sack and no mistake," Barash observed sagely. As he'd intended, she chuckled and swatted his chest.
"That don't explain your whelp," she pointed out, and he shrugged.
"She was always my favorite," he replied.
"Hmph," Akhûna snorted. "Just like you, she is. I remember. Took me twenty years to get the tark stink off yer todger, you sick bastard." Though her tone was harsh, her hand snaked down his stomach to fondle him gently.
"Ain't nothin' in the world I wanna stick my old fella in more'n you," Barash purred, closing his eyes and grinning drowsily.
Akhûna smiled. It never took more than a few moments to get him up, even after all these years. "Long as you ain't thinkin' of no tark cunny when yer in there," she growled, rolling on top of him.
His red eyes opened to slits as she took him, and his gnarled hands worked their way into her hides, finding breasts that, in spite of the affects of age, still fulfilled his every need. "All I see is you, my beauty, my shaûk. All I feel... is you."
"Silver-tongue," Akhûna murmured, laying flat on his chest and curling her arms under his shoulders. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek on him and drew up her knees along his sides. His arms embraced her, and he sighed contentedly. She focused all her attention on the sound of his heart and the feel of him, the scent of him, her shaûk, her own. All else drifted away like mist.
Nothing further was needed. As they often did, Akhûna and Barash pressed flesh to flesh, one inside the other, their hearts beating together as though they were one body, one mind, one spirit. So it had been for hundreds of years. If fate was kind, so it would be for hundreds more.
Shaataz scowled as the tunnels echoed with the unmistakable sounds of her sister's pleasure. "Dat be disgustin'," she growled, staring toward the entrance to the chamber she shared with her mate. Nariin sleepily rolled over and nudged up close to her, his arm draped lazily over her swollen belly.
"Don't listen," he murmured, nipping her ear. She giggled softly.
"Can't be helped," she replied. Relaxing against his chest, she sighed. "Not when she bellow loud as a mûmak."
Nariin snorted, laughing into her neck. "You ain't so quiet yourself, my gal," he purred. His hand stroked down her thigh, hoping to nudge those legs apart. He never seemed to get enough of the Orcess; he'd readily followed her into these caves and hadn't poked his head out the entrance again for over two years now. A good deal of that time was spent in her bed.
It took her awhile to fully accept him, though. Maybe she claimed him the first night they met, and he'd happily given himself to her, but he still had a time of it getting to this point. A good deal of groveling at her feet, earning the approval of her sire and dam, proving his value to the clan and his prowess in all sorts of useful enterprises... It hadn't been easy.
Luckily, he was well-equipped to handle the easy part. Shaataz was as different as night and day from her sister, Shagal, except in one thing: she also enjoyed a good rut. She was just a bit more particular about who was involved. His long experience in that area ensured his success.
Now they were bonded, and still aglow with the heady feeling of it. Shaataz was close to popping with his whelp, the first one he'd actually cared to be around for. It was theirs; that made all the difference.
"Yuh horny as a young'un," she chuckled, playfully swatting his hand away from her sex. "Shaataz don't wanna play wit' dat business goin' on." Growling low, she muttered, "She think we don't remember dat sound. Nardrît likely in a hole, tryin' tuh hide."
Frowning, Nariin idly caressed her hip. "Was it bad there?"
She nodded slowly. "All the time, there be tarks screamin' for mercy. They gettin' flayed 'n flogged, bits cut off, while they still alive. Not just the tarks but them golug-hai from the forest. Any that be dumb enough to wander near. Bolg be long gone, but they do his will all the same." She shuddered and pulled the furs up over her head. "Screamin' and screamin'... Yuh think yuh don't mind it so much. They's tarks and all. But then they run outta tarks and golug, and they come after us. Da didn't lose his leg in no fight."
"What happened?" the Orc asked quietly. His arms instinctively held her more closely, protectively.
"The tark screamin' stop, and they bring him in," she whimpered, "and they torture him. They saw off his leg, real slow. Mum find it... just thrown out...and she went lookin' for the rest of him. They just... dump'im when they done. She find him and take him somewhere safe. She keep him alive." She shivered and pressed closer to Nariin's reassuring warmth. "Say you do that for me. You can't find me, you go lookin' till you do. Even if yuh gotta look for a hundred years for your Shaataz."
"I'd look for a thousand," he murmured. "My shaûk, there ain't nothing that'd keep me from your side, not even death." He nuzzled her ear, nipping affectionately. "Yer stuck with me."
The Orcess giggled again. "Rather be stuck by yuh." She took his hand and held it to her heart, sighing deeply. "I be in a better mood when dat noise stop."
"All my forces are lined up, my dove," Nariin chuckled, pressing his erection to her backside for emphasis. "Just waiting for the call to arms."
She wiggled her bottom a bit, laughing more easily. "Stand ready. Shagal gotta sleep some time, eh?"
The distant screams subsided into sobs, the tone pleading. Skût paused, looking up from her youngest. Zog was suckling hungrily at her breast, his small hands squeezing almost painfully. He was a good, strong lad already, and his mum was proud. Her older boy, Korb, had taken to sleeping buried in the furs to drown out the noise of that snivelling tark. Close to the entrance of their chamber, Gundul paced. Every now and then, he stopped to prick his ears, then huffed angrily and resumed.
"Ain't gonna go on much longer, yuh know," he growled to his mate. Nodding assuredly, he added, "Fulak'll put a stop to that shit, mark my words."
Skût, robbed of her tongue by a previous toy of her sister's, merely smacked her lips and sighed. Gundul grunted.
"You know what he's thinkin'," the Orc insisted. "That little cunt's gonna spite him by bondin' to a tark."
Chuckling, she shook her head. Her mate sagged a little. "Yeah, that's stupid." Frowning, he went on, "Yuh know, had a peek in there the other day. I think she's usin' that tark filth to get better fuckin' outta Fulak. He's 'bout killin' hisself, fuckin' the tark for her, fuckin' her through the tark, fuckin' her with the tark, fuckin' her after the tark... Why she wanna fuck so much, eh? You ain't like that."
Glancing over his shoulder, he met her steady gaze and ducked his head sheepishly. "Yuh don't... go off on yer own or... look for nobody else or nothin'," he mumbled. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he leaned against the rock wall. "Yer good tuh me, Skût. Wish I could... do my job better, is all."
Brow pinched sympathetically, Skût made a small whimpering noise and held her free hand out to him. Gundul sighed and went to sit by her, but couldn't look her in the eye. He let her take his hand, though.
"Guess... once in awhile... I don't do so bad, eh?" he said quietly. "Give yuh these whelps and all. So... sorta proof, ain't it? Sometimes... it works? And, uh... yuh know... maybe... sometimes yuh don't... wish yuh hadn't... just for a minute..." He chuckled bitterly. "'Bout all I'm good for... is that one... one minute, eh?"
She cupped his cheek in her palm and urged him to look at her. Tears glistened in her eyes as she drew him close and pressed her forehead to his. Purring softly, she nuzzled his cheek and ear.
"Yer a good one, Skût," he murmured thickly.
Bare feet kicking up dust in the tunnel, Kraibûf darted from one side chamber to another, peering in for a moment then moving on. Her nostrils flared as she scented the air, the rocks, the dirt... anything that might tell her where he was.
"Not again," she hissed under her breath. "No. I ain't been cursed. There ain't no trouble. He's just havin' a time of it, is all. Them berries just ain't in season. Had to go far for'em. That's all. Just real far. Then he got lost. Maybe come in the wrong way and he's lost."
She couldn't seem to reassure herself, and each chamber she visited was either empty or showed no sign of Burburûrz. He'd been gone too long for any of her ready excuses to be true.
It wasn't possible for an Orc to bond a second time, but Kraibûf almost felt as though she had. Burbur was steady and sure, and he never asked for anything. Even with her grief over the loss of Nausaar still fresh enough to make her weep in the night, Burbur never demanded she forget about her dead mate, nor did he try to distract her with coupling.
No, Burbur didn't do the sorts of things someone like Fulak might. He held her in his arms and let her grieve. He took the whelps off her hands when she needed to be alone. He pleased her when she wanted to feel something that wasn't ashes and stone.
And when she mentioned a desire for elderberries, he asked no questions. He merely smiled knowingly, grabbed a sack, and went on the hunt. He hadn't come back for two days.
Fretting anxiously, Kraibûf followed the sounds of slapping hides and whimpering. She'd long figured out what to listen for that would spare her having to see one or both of them abusing the tark. She didn't care if she barged in on Shagal and Fulak having at each other; it was the tark business that was unnatural.
The hollow the two Orcs shared was layered in furs and hides, trophies from their frequent hunting trips. In the center of the room, Fulak was giving Shagal a vigorous and rough fuck, the Orcess's legs wide and her feet waving wildly in the air.
Off in the corner was the tark, huddled in a ball, discarded and forgotten for the moment. Kraibûf briefly noted how he trembled, his own fresh blood streaking his thighs. Undoubtedly Fulak had a go at him before finishing things with Shagal.
"You lot seen Burbur?" she asked, her voice raised a bit so they'd hear over their own grunting and snarling.
Startled by the interruption, Shagal's attention shifted from her enjoyment to the thoroughly annoying intruder.
"Fuck off, Kraibûf!" she barked, scrabbling her claws about, hunting for something to throw.
"Only he's not been back for days," the young Orcess insisted. "You take him huntin' a lot, so I thought you might..."
"No, I ain't seen yer twat tender," Shagal snapped. "Yuh wanna get yuh some, go look fer Nardrît. He ain't doin' nothin'."
Seething, Kraibûf retorted, "It ain't fuckin' I'm after! He went off for berries, and he ain't been back. Ain'tcha even worried or nothin'?"
"Busy here!" Shagal roared, pointing at Fulak as though to remind Kraibûf of what she was in the midst of doing. "Weren't my job tuh keep the sod from gettin' lost or killed or... oh fuck... gah!" she cried suddenly, and dug her claws into Fulak's shoulders. Glaring intently into her lover's face, Shagal growled, "Yeah, that's good. Do it. Fuck me. Tear me wide open, yuh fucker. Gimme all yuh got."
Sweat pouring down his face and neck, Fulak grimaced and let loose a shuddering howl. He'd already come once, but long habit and simple lust for his mate kept him going into two and, on rare occasions, three completions before Shagal came for him.
He didn't even have two in him this time. With the suddenness of an explosion, Fulak's eyes popped wide at the same time that a searing pain shot through his back. He barked with surprise and collapsed on top of Shagal. The pain was so intense and hit him so hard, burning from the middle of his back straight down to his left knee, that he cried out. He gasped and whimpered, but there seemed to be no end.
And he couldn't move. Every twitch hurt. Even breathing sent a reminder coursing through his body, urging him to stay still.
"What the fuck?" Shagal snarled, mercilessly shoving him off her. She stopped pushing him when high-pitched sobbing started coming out of him. Faltering, she carefully eased herself out from under Fulak and looked him over. "Yuh all right?" she asked uncertainly.
He couldn't speak for almost a minute. Unsure what to do or even what happened, Shagal hesitantly touched his shoulder. "Fulak?" she ventured.
"C-c-can't... m-move," he breathed, his cheek pressed into the furs. "Hurts."
Eyes darting between the two, Kraibûf asked timidly, "So... you ain't seen'im?"
"Get the fuck outta here!" Shagal roared. The younger Orcess jumped back, then fled from the chamber. Shagal huffed furiously, staring after the infuriating Kraibûf for a moment, then turned her attention back to Fulak.
"Be still, now," she crooned, caressing his head. "Shagal's gonna see to yuh." Her brow furrowed with worry as she peered at his quivering body. There was nothing she could see that explained his state, but she knew Fulak better than any. He wouldn't fake something like this. Slowly smoothing her hand down his back, she asked, "Where's it hurt?"
"Sss-sorry," Fulak mumbled, trying to breathe and not breathe at the same time. "Meant tuh... f-finish... sorry."
"Ssshh," Shagal whispered dismissively. "Just be still, now." Forcing herself to smile, she added, "Yuh owe me, but I can wait."
Fulak snorted in disbelief, then winced as another spasm struck him. Shagal flinched along with him. "Don't you leave me, Fulak," she murmured. "Don't yuh dare."
Shivering naked in the corner, Faelur squeezed his eyes shut. He tried not to hear them. He tried not to think about anything but this brief moment of relative peace.
How much more could his body take? Would he go mad, or was he already there? When would the torment end? He had no answers, only a desperate hope for any end, even a bloody one.