Vance loses

Vance dealt the cards with slick, nervous precision, his eyes darting between his own hand and the heavy green length resting in front of him. He played cautiously, baiting Uthul into a trap, and when the final round hit, a triumphant smirk broke across his face as he slammed a winning pair of aces onto the wood.

“Beat that, Orc!” Vance barked, leaning in.

Uthul didn’t even flinch. She just chuckled, a low, rumbling sound in her chest, and casually flipped her cards face up, revealing a three-of-a-kind she’d been holding back the entire time.

Dead silence fell over the crate for a single heart-beat, followed by a deafening roar from Baelog that almost shook the bulkheads.

“HAH! DOWN GOES THE BOATSWAIN!” Baelog howled, banging his tankard so hard grog sloshed over his knuckles. “Pay the lady, Vance! Off with ‘em!”

Vance stared at her hand in sheer disbelief, his jaw tight. His face burned crimson as the surrounding sailors hooted, stomped, and catcalled, chanting for him to stick to the rules of the deck. Gritting his teeth, Vance unbuckled his belt, stood up, and slid his trousers down his thick, sailor’s thighs, kicking them aside.

He wasn’t wearing a stitch beneath them.

The humid hold erupted once more. Resting between his muscular, hair-dusted thighs was his own heavy, semi-erect cock. It had stiffened from the sheer adrenaline of the game... surely. He stood there completely exposed in the lantern light, rubbing the back of his neck with a tense, embarrassed grin.

“Well now,” Uthul purred, her golden eyes lingering over his bare form with predator-like satisfaction. She reached out, hooking a thick green finger under his jaw to tilt his head toward her. “Look at that. Seems you were enjoying the wager a little more than you let on, boatswain.”
“As if! Don’t get too high on your success, Orc, it was just a lucky hand, nothing more!”, he grumbled.
“Was it now?”, Uthul smirked. “If I was lucky, then surely you’d be up playing another hand, no?”