The Gardener and The Orc

Chapter 6

[Skipping to the smut? Check out Chapters 4, 5, 7, 11, 12, and 13 if that is all you're here for, I won't judge!]

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 The chill of night swirled around their roaring campfire, and Kors sat adjacent to the flames so he could better read Lilith's stock journal. The smell of butter and herb fish and vegetables wafted from the pan she was carefully tipping over two hammered metal plates to divide the contents. "Can I see it?" he asked, looking at her from over the top of the book, his thick brows furrowed under a mop of untidy black hair. She reached to her pocketed leather belt and unlatched the small strap securing the pouch that contained the lovely gold orc-wrought bangle, tossing it to him over the fire casually. He caught it with ease and inspected it as Lilith took to eating her meal, spearing pieces of it with a small bronze fork that had also appeared from the depths of her handy tool belt.

"Gods, it's easily worth double what we gave" he murmured, looking back at the page in question then back over to her, "and he said they are interested in importing our goods in exchange for more?" She blinked up at him, wondering if that was how she had phrased it in her white-lie attempt to skip over the sordid details of their encounter. "Not in those exact words, but we agreed to meet again to further discuss business," she hurriedly took another bite, not meeting his eyes and hoping the flush of her cheeks didn't arouse suspicion. "I don't like that he met with you alone...were you frightened? Have I met him before? When and where are we meeting him? What is his name?" he finally set the book down and picked up his plate, popping a piece into his mouth with his hand and sighing contentedly at the taste.

The irritation bubbled over quickly and she snapped "And you accuse me of prattling on with unnecessary questions?!" Lilith glowered at him through her lashes, her head still tilted down toward her plate "Why would he not speak with me directly when it is my decision alone?" as if daring him to challenge her. He did not, opting to simply stare at her until she gave him an acceptable answer. "I imagine he'll keep to my original plan, meeting at Port in 3 days' time. And if not, we'll just have to assume he's reconsidered the risk," she huffed and caught herself frowning at the double-meaning before adding "Transport to Orc Mountain is tumultuous at best...unless we arrange the bulk of the journey by ship. And I did not catch his name, I was caught off guard...did not think to ask," she ended lamely.

They went back and forth for a few hours while sharing the orc-made basket of berries, first discussing the risks of publicly doing business with orcs before transitioning to what other sellers might appear at the festival market they'd be in tomorrow. By the time they tied the dogs to the wagon and were readying for sleep, Lilith shook out the heavy woolen blanket the orc left and was studying it cautiously -- it did not look dirty or...stiff. It simply smelled heavily of the orc, like he had perhaps just been using it to sleep. She took a careful sniff, skeptical of her own reaction earlier in the evening to it, but found it just as intoxicating as before with notes of honey and vanilla and sandalwood. Kors arched a brow, looking at her with rich brown eyes like she was an absolute loon, "Why...are you sniffing that?" he propped himself up onto his elbows, screwing up his deep tawny face while trying to catch a whiff.

It took considerable effort to not bunch up the blanket and throw it in his face out of sheer panic. He reached out to grab a corner and bring it closer to his face so he could scent it. "Incense?" he let go and shrugged disinterestedly, "Smells pleasant enough." Lilith nodded in agreement but bit her lip, looking down at it with more intensity as if seeing it for the first time -- the scent was irresistible for her but merely agreeable to Kors. "I quite like it," was all she could manage to say before kicking out the cane-woven sleeping mat so it unraveled flat on the opposite side of the campfire from him. Down-filled pillow in hand, she wrapped the scratchy wool around herself and settled onto the mat. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep enveloped in the heady fragrance.

The market was bustling by the time their large booth was erected and flanked by the other wagons that met them with Lilith's namesake and logo etched across their signage: "Morrow of Portstown," complimented by a pearl on a half-shell. With 10 pairs of experienced haggling hands, Lilith had little to do other than look pretty whilst answering probing questions about their wares and exchange pleasantries with familiar faces. She was pleased to note that they had the largest selection of produce, including many out-of-season fruits and vegetables sure to stand out at a harvest festival. A large majority of her queries were related to her uniquely hued tomatoes, how their aged pork had such a complex nutty flavor, did they truly run out of cheese already, how faired her uncle, is it just a rumor she had a whole garden encased in glass, how on earth is this bushy lettuce-leaf basil stalk 3 feet tall? She had difficulty meeting everyone's gaze, but nodded sublimely and answered all she could.

It was important she looked the part today, but truthfully she enjoyed the opportunity to wear fine things and ethereal dresses since her day-to-day activities required attire of practicality. She picked voluminous dark green skirts for the festival, an off-shoulder ivory tunic with bishop sleeves, a silk slate gray bodice embroidered with florals in deep greens and blues accentuating her lovely waist, and delicately beaded black silk flats. Her dark brown hair tumbled down her back in soft curls and waves, parted to the side with a thin gold hairpin securing the front thatch of tresses so they were prettily swept out of her face. A gold septum ring was visible under her nose, and a long thin gold necklace chain was mostly swallowed into the cleavage of her well-endowed bosom, pendant buried where prying eyes couldn't see. The belt slung across her full hips was a simpler version of the one she usually adorned, this one having only a few leather pocket-pouches hanging off along with a sheathed dagger and a blue velvet pouch heavy with coin.

Halfway into the festival Morrow's was completely sold out of meats, cheese, and wine. They were low on swaths of silk and ribbon and jars spices, and if pace kept, she expected to bring home only a few bushels of vegetables and canisters of salt out of 6 whole wagons once the day was done. Lilith squeezed between the two wagons directly behind their booth and sat on a stump along the line of trees that this half of the vendor's field backed into. She leaned forward with her elbows propped on her knees, fingertips rubbing her temples and sighing. An introvert at heart, she'd need days to recover from the non-stop small talk -- even the pleasurable interactions were completely draining. "Ms. Morrow?" someone called out on the other side of the wagons where she couldn't see.

"I need 20 minutes, Laurel. Get Kors instead?" Her back straightened so she could stretch, rolling her neck and raising her arms above her head with an appreciative moan. One large hand clasped around both her raised wrists, the other digging fingers into her cheeks and palming her mouth to keep her from screaming in shock. That heavenly scent overtook her, intoxicating and mouth-watering and making her thighs shift. The orc tilted her head up gently to look at him. He appeared menacing in the shade of the trees, lithe form looming impudently over her, flashing a wicked white-fanged grin and effortlessly yanking her up to stand by her wrists so he could sniff at them. "Mm, what is this?" His nose followed the length of her arm but stopped short at the top of her head before he leaned down and inhaled deeply at the crook of her neck, his face buried into her hair.

"Slept with my bed things, ach? I smell it on ye. Did my dove dream of me?" He withdrew his face from her hair to eye her appreciatively, ignoring the furrow of her brow and glare of her cold gray eyes, instead sweeping over her blushing cheeks and fixing upon her heaving chest. His eyes danced with delight, tracking the path of the thin gold chain that was swallowed by the cleavage of her pert breasts, pushed up provocatively by her laced-up bodice. Her response to his question was simply attempting to bite his palm. His hands dropped from her mouth and wrists without hesitation, so utterly confident she wouldn't scream now, and the orc scooped her up into his arms in one sweeping motion to carry her off past the line of trees with ease. "Put me down!" she hissed, venturing a glance over his shoulder and watching the sight of the wagons and open field fade away. When he pointedly ignored her, still smiling devilishly as he walked, she began to squirm in his grasp making him hold her tighter against his chest.

"Hold still now and I ken I can make ye writhe with my tongue before ye are missed" he quirked a brow when she suddenly stilled at his words, tongue darting out to slowly and deliberately wet his lips.