Here goes nothing...!

“Here goes nothing...!” I muttered under my breath, wincing as my bare thighs slapped sharply against the cool wood of the barrel. “Deal the cards before I change my mind.”

Uthul’s tusked grin widened. With infuriating grace, her thick green fingers flicked three cards across the crate toward me. I scooped them up, praying to every deity in the heavenly pantheon.

Two Queens and a Nine.

A surge of frantic hope shot through my chest. Two Queens! Statistical redemption was at hand! I slammed the cards onto the crate with a triumphant smirk. “Top a pair of Queens, Orc!”

Uthul didn’t even glance at her hand. She just used one clawed finger to lazily flip her three cards face-up.

Two Queens... and a fucking Jack!

Dead silence held the room for a fraction of a second before Baelog let out a roar so loud it vibrated straight through the floorboards.

“A KICKER! BY THE ANCESTORS, THE PRINCE WAS BEATEN BY A KICKER! THE SHIRT COMES OFF! AND PAY THE TOLL!”

The hold erupted into pure, unadulterated chaos. Sailors pounded their tankards on the bulkheads, stomping their feet until the whole ship seemed to shake. Muttering a string of curses that would have appalled my royal etiquette instructor, I unbuttoned my linen shirt, peeled the sleeves down my arms, and tossed it onto her mountain of winnings.

Now, I was standing in the middle of a crowded ship’s hold completely, 100% stark naked. Before I could even attempt a modest cover-up, the lantern light caught the full, rigid reality of my situation. It was one thing for my cock to be exposed when my trousers dropped, but it was entirely different for it to be standing at rock-hard, full-mast attention now that the shirt was gone, too.

Baelog’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. He pointed a trembling, grease-stained finger straight at my crotch and let out a shriek that cracked his voice in two.

“BY THE ANCESTORS, THE ROYAL FLAG IS FLYIN’ HIGH!”

The hold exploded into absolute, unadulterated hysterics. Vance buried his face in his hands, howling so hard he nearly choked on his grog, while six sailors stomped the floorboards like a stampede of wild oxen.

{if game:Bicurious >= 75}Honestly? I was supposed to be mortified, but as my eyes flicked down to Uthul’s waist and saw her own impressive length engorging even further, a surge of raw heat drowned out any lingering shame. Still, I couldn’t afford to let everyone else in the hold learn that I was not as opposed to this as they thought, could I!{else}I tried to tell myself this was just a physiological response to high-stakes stress and the cool sea draft. But standing there completely bare, my traitorous body made it clear that basic embarrassment had been joined by a surprising, undeniable arousal.{endif}

Uthul didn’t join in the crew’s laughter. Her golden eyes slowly tracked down my bare chest, lingering on my pulsing length with a wicked, hungry smirk carving across her tusked mouth.

“Well, well,” Uthul purred, her deep voice cutting easily through the roar of the crew. “Look at that. A prince who loses his shirt, his pants, and his modesty, but still gets rock hard for his trouble.”

She leaned across the wooden crate, reached out with a thick green hand, and cupped the back of my neck, her thumb tracing along my burning jawline.

“A deal’s a deal, Your Highness. Time to pay the first installment.”

Before I could squeeze out a witty royal retort, she pulled me down across the table into a slow, deep kiss. It tasted of spiced rum, warm skin, and absolute victory, her tusks catching lightly against my lips as the crew erupted into absolute, deafening bedlam around us...

Okay, that wasn’t so bad, was it? It could’ve gone a lot... a looooot worse!

Uthul patted the vacant barrel right beside her seat, her golden eyes flashing with dominant amusement. “Take a seat right next to me, partner. Let’s see how many more you’re going to owe me before the night is through.”