Hold! Center yourself... Not yet...(?)

Chapter 12: Myr's Glimmer

Something seems... off...

She's so... but... no... Some... how...(?)

Why is the world spinning? Fuck, you realize. You're drunk... Have been... (obviously...)

Fine! Yes! But you know now...

Ah... Is it too late?

The shards of your rational brain scold you. How many signs did Myr throw at you before this pitiful point?

Should you pray? Should you... What is that whispering...

You slow your thrusts, drawing deep, heavy, enduring breaths. Your swollen cock is ready to finish this mating session at any moment, but you've trained to suppress that blunt, animalistic urge. You trained your entire life to... blunt... the urge... Ah... No...

You hold, keeping yourself within her depths. Your hips move intrinsically, pulling back, slowly, automatically... One more slow, engulfing push taunts you, testing your instinct... Oh...

"Hold!" you loudly demand. Your body is yours to control!

The spoken words were for your own mind, but you literally feel the effect they have on your orcish mate. As if on command, she tenses, then relaxes against your cock, as if willing herself not to climax... You instinctively bring your hand slowly against her full, round cheek in the gentlest of caresses. "Hold..." you whisper again, feebly. Your breath hitches as a deep, promising swell grows at the base of your cock.

"Hold."

It is a firm demand to yourself, whispered(?) to you own mind, but again she hears it too. She obeys...

The orc's gasps slow; her own breaths stutter... You take this moment of clarity to pull yourself out of her tight, swollen... Wait...

This isn't just lust... You're nauseous. Both feelings are mixed... and unpleasantly... Is it the drink? Probably, yes. Certainly, yes. But... also, no... it's more than that.

The orc bucks her full green hips back against you, as if tempting your hesitation, and then she's suddenly hesitating herself as the same feelings seem to crash upon her. Your vision, your balance, is already swimming... She tosses her wet, earthen hair back over one slick, green shoulder. Her wet, throaty articulations tell you she's close to cumming. So are you...

"Hold," you whisper again, gently, "Something's wrong."

Her expression is tight, daring - perhaps ready to burst into the hardest orgasm of her life... But...

Somehow, her following reaction makes your own nausea worse.

"Do you feel it too?" you ask. Why? She's perfect. Her ass is perfect... This is perfect. You could fill her up right now... One. Hard. Thrust... But it's not right. Not yet.

"Ah... Ah?" the orc stammers. "K'ron?"

"I'm sorry, I don't un-"

A shrieking, piercingly animalistic cry echoes from the forest behind the falls. Even through your drunken stupor, you can tell it's much deeper than the roaring falls of the pool. It echoes piercingly in your drunken mind. It fills you with... rage!(?)

"K'ron!" the orc cries, forcefully twisting herself away from you.

Your dick slips unceremoniously out of her, but nothing you could ever do would stop her now. She thrashes beneath the waves and you stumble briefly, crawling after her. You lose your breath as you tumble beneath to the water's surface, then pull yourself desperately along the rocky basin of His shores...

By the time you surface again - each toss of your head expelling the water from your hair to clear your vision - you realize she has already reclaimed her bow and her bone-tipped spear. Her full, feminine figure is bounding deep into the shadows of the forest... Her body looks... amazing... Then she's gone.

"Wait!" you sputter. "What..!"

You cough, spit, and and hack the rest of the water from your mouth and throat as you rush back to the shore, to your gear. The orc's small leathers, her drinking gourd, her delicately-fashioned bone hair-clasp... all have been forgotten in her mad rush back to the woods. Myr's moonstone still glimmers... weakly... defeatedly... Ah?

You stumble as you finally reach your armor... your weapon... You can help...(?)

You draw Myr's holy sword proudly from its scabbard. The moonstone is dimming sharply, its guidance fading fast. You are... too late... What? Too late... for what? Oh... The world is still spinning...

Over your shoulder the forest is pitch-black and silent. In your drunken stupor, you trip and fall over the rocky shore of the bathing pool, and a flash of the dark sky enters your swirling vision. The stars dance wonderfully. Another animal cry echoes within the black, but that's the way of the world... Right? Each breath is labored and hitching within your chest, and the jagged rocks feel more and more like the perfect bed as your spinning vision begins to finally fade, swirl, and... What was that again?

"K'ron?" you ask the twisting smear of the evening sky. But it offers no answers as you fade, drift, toss, and, - finally - fall into the spinning, dark circles of a complete drunken stupor.

"Oh," you whisper. "Myr..."

What... happened?

Myr only knows how you've met your...

END