Gyda Lionrock thinks her visit to Asclan Peak is for one reason and one reason alone-to procreate and finally welcome that child of her own. She could have never guessed she would also leave something behind inside the mountains, but it was her hear...
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The more at ease Gyda felt, the more likely her body would give me what I desired most.
Offspring.
A son. No, even better: sons.
Call me greedy, but I hoped she might grant me not one but two of them, and I would do anything to satisfy that greed. After six years of trying and two dead sons, I was still a leader without a successor. That had to change before other clans turned my own men against me.
Making this woman feel as good as possible tonight would give me the biggest chance of successful reproduction, so I took my sweet time talking to her, calming her, and making sure she understood that there was no reason to fear me. I offered her gifts, too. A warm fur pelt to take home and keep her warm at night. Meat and cheese; fat food that would give her the energy needed to help my sons grow big and healthy.
Perhaps I should offer her a larger supply of food so that she would have some reserves to feed him that fat milk before he was given to me, his father. Betsy and the other women had called that first milk the golden liquid and said it was important for the little ones. Especially to start off strong.
Maybe that was where it had gone wrong these past years.
Whenever an orc was born, the humans were always in such a hurry to get him out of their precious town that the little bairn was often very weakened when he got here. It was no way to start a life.
"I don't want any of that," Gyda replied after I'd summed up everything I had to offer.
She didn't want any of that? Not even the diamond? The other women had always greedily taken my gifts, accepting them without a second thought. But I had promised no diamond to any of them.
"Then what would you desire except for my seed?" I asked curiously.
Her eyes looked into mine as she answered, "I want to talk."
"To talk?"
"Yes. Before I leave, I want to talk."
I didn't understand what this human meant. "We're talking now," I replied.
"But I want to know everything about anything. I want to know about the orcs and the mountains and your history."
"You want to know about orcs? That's an...unusual request..."
Women wanted nothing to do with orcs. They rather avoided us like the plague. We were good to stuff them full with cum—preferably knocking them up with one of those skinny, feeble human sons they always desired so much—but that was all they wanted from us.
After the twelfth moon, they wanted to forget all about us. Forget all that they'd done in our beds, all that they let us do to them. They felt ashamed because they'd liked it more than they should. Or maybe they simply felt disgusted and wanted to forget all about our repulsive appearances. Who knew their true reasons? I sure as hell didn't, because none of them had ever wanted to talk to me before.
