Farm Girl

Liora rounded the tall bale with her basket hooked in her elbow, lips pursed to whistle- and something small and fast slammed into her hard enough to pop one egg and mash it warm down her wrist.

She staggered, back thumping straw. A goblin bounced off her skirts and windmilled into a crouch, cloak in tatters, mud on sharp knees, yellow-gold eyes huge and frantic. Somewhere across the fields came her father’s shout, then her brothers’, high with the mean excitement men get when they think they’ll be heroes with a shovel.

“Shh! shh- please. Don’t scream!” the goblin hissed in perfect Felderwin Halfling, gods help her, with the exact country lilt of her aunt’s parlor, only the voice itself was wrong: higher, nasal, scratchy, like a tipsy uncle trying not to be overheard. “They’ll kill me stone dead and honestly I’m not worth the trouble- Hi. Hello. Sorry.”

Liora’s mouth hung open. The accent. He sounded like the miller’s boy reading a shopping list. On a goblin. With a little fang showing when he winced. Sexy in the stupidest possible way- no, not pretty, not safe- but the eyes, those big bright coins, and the batty ears flicking in panic… something in her belly did a foolish, traitorous flip.

The voices carried closer. “You see it?”

“Round the barn!”

The goblin pressed up into her space, hands up in supplication. His fingers were small and strong as roots. “Please, little bit of a misunderstanding, I’ll go, I’m already going, but I’m very noticeable and your family is very armed...”

“Dawnfather...” Liora breathed, recovering enough to move. “This way.”

She grabbed his wrist and hauled him into the narrow gap where two bales leaned together. Stalks scraped her calves as they folded, shoulder to shoulder, breath held. Through the chinks of straw, she could see her father’s hat and the glint of a hoe blade, hear the brothers tramping, puffed up and eager.

The goblin crowded closer, trembling. “Thank you, oh, thank you. Don’t sneeze, all right? Not that I. Oh gods they’re very near—”

That's when she noticed the short sword and crossbow at his belt, not that he seemed like he remembered he had them, he was so scared.

“You’re really… from around here?” she whispered, absurdly, because his Felderwin vowels were perfect.

He blinked, golden eyes comically wide. “What? Me? No, I mean yes- er, I sound- I try. It helps, people don’t throw as many things if you sound like their grandma.” He smiled in a tiny **** way. That little fang nicked his lower lip. Liora felt heat pulse between her thighs like she’d been caught doing something rude.

A shout cracked closer. The goblin flinched and pressed harder into her. Something very hot and very heavy bumped her hip through his ragged skirt. Liora froze. The heat dragged, alive, like a forearm under fabric. He shifted, mortified, whispering in that ridiculous nasal whisper, “Oh no. No no no... Ignore that, it does this when I’m- oh gods- when I’m frightened, please ignore it.”

Liora didn’t. She could feel it, thick and insistent, lying along her thigh. The wrongness of it (goblin, stranger, danger) braided perfectly with everything wicked in her (naughty streak, creek boys, tavern kisses). This was the kind of moment she’d drawn in charcoal in the loft and hidden under her mattress: a bad idea kissing her ear.

Her father’s voice thundered from the other side of the bale: “Lio? You there?”

She snapped to reflex and leaned, pressing the goblin firmly down between her and the straw, hand over his mouth. “Shh.” She pitched her voice up into wholesome daughter mode. “Here! Just found a broken egg. Fox must’ve spooked the hens. I’ll check the far rows!”

A beat. Bootsteps moved on. The goblin breathed hard against her palm, hot and fast, eyes locked to hers. Close like this, his face was oddly… adorable. Triangular, yes, and sharp, but those big eyes were earnest, and the little fangs didn’t look like cruelty so much as trouble. Sexy trouble. Her own breath came quicker. Under his skirt, the heat pulsed again, the weight of it undeniable.

She slid her hand from his mouth. “You’re going to run,” she murmured, the scold in it undermined by how breathy she sounded. “Now.”

He nodded too fast. “Yes, absolutely, run, I’m very good at—”

He tried to rise. She didn’t let him.

Because the stupidest, hottest thought she’d ever had landed square in the middle of her head: I could do this. I could have him. The farm, the village, the smallness- she’d been daring them to stop her for years. Here, now, in the whispering straw, a stranger who spoke like home and looked like trouble had literally fallen into her arms. And her body; big hips, the soft butt, the meaty cunt she never admitted was always wet on market dances; answered for her.

“Wait,” she said, and her hand slid under the torn hem, fingers closing around the shape she’d felt. Hot. Heavy. So much bigger than any boy’s -any man's, human or half-orc included. She swallowed a squeal.

The goblin made a very small, very strangled noise. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” Liora hissed, wickedness bubbling up so fast she nearly giggled. “Be quiet.”

“Your family-”

“Shut up and don’t waste this,” she muttered, and spun, planting her palms on the bale, skirts rucked to her waist in a movement so practiced she barely felt the shame nick her. She arched her back, wide hips flaring, that big fleshy ass she’d always half-resented presented like an offering.

Behind her, he made a sound between worship and panic. “This is a terrible idea,” he whispered voice high and scratchy and wound tight as a lute string. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m oh. I’m so sorry.”

“Less sorry, more do it.” she hissed.

He fumbled her drawers aside with shaking hands. Cool air licked her, then a blunt, scorching crown pressed between her slick lips and Liora’s mind went white. He was huge. Not just long- fat, wide, the kind of stretch that **** a grunt out of her even as her hips rolled back to welcome it, greedy after one push.

“You’re... Dawnfather!” she gasped, biting straw, “-you’re going to split me-”

“I told you,” he squeaked, which would’ve been funny if it hadn’t felt so obscenely good. “You’re very- oh gods- you’re so soft. Please be quiet, they’ll hear- ohhhh no!”

He slid in an inch, another, the thick head prying her open until her eyes watered and then pop, the cockhead seated, her whole body clamping and fluttering around him like it had found what it wanted. She made a noise she’d never made before in her life. He slapped a hand over her mouth, frantic, pushing his own face into her shoulder like he might hide inside her.

“Be quiet,” he begged, which was rich, considering he couldn’t stop the little whiny noises falling from his own mouth. “Please be- oh oh gods, you’re-”

He thrust. The world shrank to the clapping of her ass against his narrow hips, the hot, wet glide, the weight of him dragging, the stretch. Her meaty pussy swallowed him and begged for more. Every time he bottomed out she swore she could feel him in her belly, a deep, filling pressure that knocked sense out of her and replaced it with light.

“Harder,” she whispered against his palm, shameless now. “Shut me up. Make me-” She didn’t have the words. The words were all straw and heat and the stupid gorgeous sound his accent made when he pleaded with her not to shout and said something about a Reza.

He obliged, because he couldn’t not. His rhythm turned urgent, ****. His balls- heavy, pendulous- smacked her thighs low even as he had so much sac that the skin made contact with her clit in maddening little taps. Liora’s thighs shook. She came hard and quick, stars blowing out behind her eyes, biting his fingers to keep from yelping as her cunt rippled around him, trying to keep him, hold this huge, wrong, perfect thing inside her.

“Oh gods oh gods oh gods,” he chanted softly, high and nasal, musical with terror. “I can’t- this is- your father- your brothers! I'm gonna- I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum! Should I pull out? Tell me, I’ll be good, I’ll-”

“Inside!” she snarled. “Inside, now.”

He keened, a sound so sharp she felt it in her toes, and obeyed. His cock swelled and then poured, heat flooding deep, pulse after pulse, so much she whimpered and pushed back to take it, greedy and grateful and wicked as anything she’d ever done. It filled her and kept filling her until she was sure she’d slosh when she stood. Her belly pressed against straw, heavy with it, and she loved it with an intensity that scared her even as she rocked through the aftershocks.

He clung to her, panting, trembling, voice gone small. “I am… very sorry,” he whispered into her shoulder, as softly as a prayer. “And thank you. And sorry again. And I have to run.”

She laughed, breathless, delirious, full in every way, and reached back to pat his cheek without looking. “Go, then. Before my father decides to circle back.”

He pulled from her with a wet, obscene sound that made them both shiver. Heat spilled down her thighs in sticky ropes. He fumbled his ragged skirt down, nearly tripped, caught himself, then peered at her face like he wanted to memorize it.

“Thank you,” he said a third time-earnest, ridiculous, gold-eyed, (and kind of looking like a girl?) -then was gone, a green streak vanishing between rows with his ears flapping like pennants.

Liora sagged against the bale, panting, laughing into the straw, knees weak, the mess cooling indecently on her skin. Her father yelled something about fox sign on the far hedgerow. Her brothers argued about nothing, as usual. The morning went on, ordinary as ever.

She tucked herself back together with shaking hands, tugged her skirt down, and stood. The basket had one intact egg left. She set it carefully on top, bit her lip against a grin, and started for the house with a sway in her hips nobody would mistake for innocence.

By the time she reached the porch, the wicked little thought had already rooted: too late to scold me now, Da. I’ve gone and let a goblin fuck me like a story I wasn’t supposed to hear. And under that, hotter still, a certainty she did not examine yet: she would never look at the hedgerows the same again, not without thinking of gold eyes in the green and the heavy throb of goblin cock.