A quarrel

Uthul let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed off the damp cavern walls, the sound dripping with absolute mockery. She didn’t even bother to sit up, keeping her eyes shut as she allowed my trembling fingers to continue kneading her shoulders.

“A real chieftain does whatever she wants with her prizes, Brok,” she barked, her voice cutting through the steam like a blade. “And right now, I want my skin oiled.”

To drive the point home, Uthul reached down beneath the surface, casually resting a massive, green hand over her own thick length, shifting it in the water right in front of him.

I sat there frozen, the water lapping against my bare chest, feeling agonizingly exposed. My hands stayed glued to her broad shoulders, completely unsure of whether to keep moving or play dead. I was a naked human prince caught in a literal dick-measuring contest between two orcs, and the awkwardness was almost worse than the terror.

Brok’s jaw clenched so hard I thought his tusks might crack. He took a predatory step right to the slippery edge of the pool, the heavy iron of his boots scraping against the stone. He completely ignored Uthul, his dark, furious eyes boring straight down into me, tracing my pale, slick shoulders down to the waterline. The look he gave me wasn't just angry - it was heavy with a terrifying promise of future ****, as if he was already figuring out exactly how he'd take me for himself once Uthul was out of the picture.

“The vanguard will remember this, Uthul,” Brok rumbled, his voice vibrating in my own chest.
“Get out and prepare the scouts, Brok. Before I use your hide for a rug,” Uthul countered lazily.

With a final, venomous glare at my flushed face, the massive male turned on his heel with an annoyed grunt, his heavy footsteps fading back into the steam.