Temptation

Danni.

How did he know my name, whispered so seductively in my ear?

If I turned my head, I'd see him, I knew it. All I could do was keep walking, up and up the path strewn with dead bodies. Was I Orpheus, forbidden from glancing behind lest Eurydice be lost to me forever? Or plain Danni, afraid to see that the dead were rising as I passed?

Their hands brushed my skin. I could feel it, all up and down my back. In front, a solid wall I knew was there to save me, but I couldn't get to the other side, couldn't get my arms around it far enough.

And all the while, a steady thumping, like a drum.

Want me, Danni. Please.

It was his voice, not the other's. The hands on my skin were warm, not cold with death. Slowly, consciousness returned, senses that had slept, awoke. But only for me.

Mauronk was still asleep, but he wasn't idle. One of his hands was up the back of my undershirt, and headed downward. The other gripped my shoulder, his arm under my head and around me tightly. Probably a little uncomfortable for him, I thought stupidly when I should have been wondering where his free hand was going.

He was holding me so close against him that I could feel everything. My cheek was pressed against his chest, the top of my head tucked under his chin. His beard tickled my face and almost made me sneeze. Whereas when I fell asleep earlier, he was just a little stiff, now he was fully erect. I held tightly to his waist with one arm, the other kind of squashed between us, immobile. Then his hand was going down the back of my underwear.

In the interests of full disclosure, I'd had men's hands down my pants before. This was not virgin territory, in any sense of the word. What shocked me was that he was doing it. I got the impression Orcs and humans didn't mix this way. He'd really impressed upon me the idea that humans thought going to bed with Orcs was the world's most disgusting thing. I guess I just assumed the feeling was mutual.

Apparently not.

"Mauronk," I whispered. He was getting pretty worked up, judging by the quickening of his breathing and the movement of his hips. Not to mention the way he clutched and kneaded my backside. Delightful and not at all unwanted at any other time, but at the moment...

"Mauronk," I tried again, more urgently this time. I accompanied my voice with a sharp slap on his rear. He startled awake and froze.

Unfortunately, I couldn't see his face. I think I would have paid a king's ransom for the privilege when he realized what he was doing. He gulped; I felt it against my forehead. Slowly, as if afraid of spooking a really pissed off animal, he slid his hand out of my wool underwear.

"I... forgive me," he breathed. "I have no excuse."

"Yes, you do," I said quietly, a smile on my face. "You lied to me."

"I never lie," he replied indignantly.

"Okay, maybe not a lie, per se," I allowed, "but a definite omission of certain facts."

"What facts?"

"You said Orcs and humans don't have sex," I explained.

He swallowed hard again. "We do not."

"Mm-hm. Not by choice."

"That is so."

"You didn't say they didn't want to."

"Humans... do not. We are... ugly."

The way he said it made me kind of sad. "I don't think you're ugly, Mauronk."

"Why do you not?" he demanded, and I got the impression that he didn't trust or accept what I was saying. "An Orc almost killed you. I thought... I assumed you would want distance from me."

Now I had to scoot out of his arms so I could look at his face. This was getting to the point where talking into his sternum wasn't doing it for me. Sitting up, I glared at him.

"I'm not stupid, Mauronk," I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. "I can tell the difference, you know."

He sat up as well. Now that I was inches away from him, I could see old scars on his body. He'd been in many battles before, but I had a feeling this was a new one.

"Humans cannot," he snarled, staring at his fists clenched in his lap. "We are all the same, in your eyes. Loyal warriors for the Empire, or thieves and murders like that one. Often the last, not the first. No matter the emblem we wear or the deeds we do."

I felt like I was talking to an African American youth, lamenting the fact that everyone looks at him and sees a gang member or street tough, someone you can't trust.

"Look, Mauronk," I said carefully, "I should probably be straight with you. I'm... not really from the local area. Sort of... really far away, actually."

"It must be very far, not to be aware of these things," he grumbled.

"You have no idea," I agreed, shaking my head. "Pretty much, so damn far away that... you're the first Orc I've ever seen."

He nodded. "Our numbers are less than they once were. War against humans diminished us, fighting alongside them has also reduced the population. It was not so many years ago that the Great War ended. Many were lost."

"Well, actually," I said uncomfortably, "it's not... attrition that makes me... unfamiliar with the way things are, apparently, supposed to be. Um... if I said... I come from a whole different world, would you think I was crazy?"

Slowly turning his head, he fixed me with that strange red stare of his. "What?"

I swallowed and shrugged. "I don't have any idea how I got here, or why, but I'm from another world."

His eyes narrowed. "Oblivion?"

"Farther."

"That is... not possible." He shook his head. "No. You cannot be."

"It's true," I insisted. "Why wouldn't I know anything about swords? We don't use them anymore. It's been hundreds of years since we did."

"Then... in your world, humans and Orcs... are they allowed to wed?" he asked, and it tore my heart to hear the hope in his voice.

I shook my head. "No. Not because humans don't like Orcs," I said quickly when his face fell. "It's more like because... there aren't any Orcs."

He frowned. "How can there not be Orcs?"

Shrugging, I said, "I don't know. Maybe we had them once, but we sure as hell don't now. No elves, either. You can scratch Khajiit and Argonian off the list, too. It's just wall-to-wall humans, all day, every day."

He looked shocked, and not at all satisfied. "I am truly the first you have met, then. I still do not understand why you do not flee from me in fear." Curling his lips around his tusks, he snarled, "We are aggressive. We look like monsters. Many think of us as beasts."

"Well, admittedly, you acted like a total beast in Helgen, but I can overlook that because of the overall stress of the day," I said. "Look, where I come from, it's considered... bad manners, I guess, to paint an entire race based on the actions of one member. It doesn't mean it doesn't happen, it's just... not considered polite, I guess."

"What 'race'?" he growled. "There is only one where you come from."

"Hmph, you'd be surprised, the human capacity for self-division," I snorted. "Color, country, beliefs, culture... all much more important than they ought to be. Really kind of sucks, when you think about it."

He smiled a little. "I have seen it as well among Orcs," he said. "The Orcs of Orsinium are different from those in the mountain villages, unrecognizable from those in the strongholds here in Skyrim. We argue over our differences, and sometimes blood is spilled."

"Happens in every family," I agreed. "There's always someone bringing up embarrassing things at the reunion. You just have to hope you can make it through a get-together without someone ending up in the hospital."

Chuckling, he nodded. "So you come from a world that does not know Orcs. Does it know war?"

"God, too much of it, if you ask me," I said, rolling my eyes. "But not all of us are warriors. In fact, most of us go our entire lives without seeing any sign of it at the local level. There's no need to actively teach the kids how to defend themselves against attack if you live in a place that never sees action. Me, I was a secretary. I filled out paperwork and filed it. The absolute worst wound you can get in that sort of scenario is a nasty papercut."

"Your world sounds...," he began, then paused as if searching for the right word.

"Dull? Boring? Pretty much. You get up in the morning, get dressed, drive to work, do boring, ineffectual things for hours and hours, drive home, eat dinner, and go to bed. That's pretty much the extent of it."

He grimaced, and I nodded. "Yeah, don't get me started. One could argue that my world has evolved past having to fight every day for a crust of bread or an inch of space, but there are still places where that happens. Just not anywhere near me. And god help you if you kill someone." Frowning, I said, "It's considered a crime, what we did. Attacking people who hadn't made any threatening moves, just because they looked like criminals. Yeah, we'd get hauled away in chains for that."

"They would have killed us if they saw us first...," he pointed out, and I shook my head, interrupting.

"That wouldn't matter in the slightest. Intent only means something if they've already done it. Then it's more like, did they intend to kill you when they killed you, or was it an accident?"

"What is used to kill, then? If not swords."

"Guns, mostly," I replied. "They're ranged weapons, but not like bows. They're... metal tubes with a mechanism that fires a projectile. We used to use swords, but somewhere along the line, we got squeamish about looking our enemies in the face, I guess, and started favoring distance. Now we not only make guns that can kill your ass from three hundred feet away, we have planes that allow us to drop a bomb on you, and we don't even have to be in the plane to do it."

His mind seemed to be reeling from my descriptions, judging by the blank expression on his face. Grasping at my words, he mumbled, "Bomb?"

"Yeah, bomb," I said, nodding. "A bomb is an explosive. We make them big. I'll bet we've got some that would level Skyrim and make the surrounding provinces uninhabitable for hundreds of years, all in one go."

Mauronk's jaw fell open and he shuddered at the thought. "The humans in your world... are worse than we are accused of being."

"Nobody fucks you up like a human," I agreed. "Cleverness, where I come from, is generally used to come up with new and exciting ways to make someone else really damn sorry they insulted your mother."

He stared at the area around his knees for a minute or two, probably thinking about what a lousy-ass world I came from.

"There are no Orcs," he said, as if he was just making sure.

"No Orcs."

"And... you do not fear me."

"Not at all."

"I... do not disgust you?" he asked quietly, glancing for maybe half a second at my face.

"No."

"Did I give you... comfort? You seemed... upset last night."

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. His cheeks actually darkened, the Orsimer equivalent of a blush, I think. Big, gruff, manly Mauronk, blushing like a teenager? Damn if that wasn't charming as hell.

"You made me feel safe," I assured him. "Protected. Alive. It was pretty nice knowing you were alive and well, too. I really thought I was going to blow it. I..." I faltered. Squeezing my eyes shut, I said quietly, "I was so afraid I'd see you die. And not... because I'd be at their mercy if you did. I'm kind of... fond of you, Mauronk."

"I am fond of you, as well," he replied, swallowing hard. He seemed to be waiting, maybe expecting me to say, 'ew, gross!' All at once, I remembered the words I heard him murmuring in his sleep: Want me, Danni. Please. It was like getting hit with a sledgehammer. I wondered if it was more than fondness that was plaguing him, and I was sort of caught between being flattered and being nervous.

"Um... just... fond?" I asked uncomfortably.

He looked even farther away, if that were possible. "I am sorry I... touched you so... intimately. It will not be repeated."

Of course, that didn't sound very good at all. "It's okay," I said carefully. "I didn't mind. Not that much."

"Such liberties... should never be taken," he replied stiffly. "I am sorry."

"I forgive you," I said, shrugging my shoulders with resignation. I supposed it was best. Did I really want a horny Orc with a sword at my throat, or a shy, awkward Orc who respected me enough to apologize for an innocent fondle?