Male dom orc x female sub reader (nsfw) *commission* (Patreon)

Here's the last commission in my queue for you, and it's a long one! It's 8.5k words, and features some dom/sub play between a couple who have been happily dating for about six months. 

Commissions are now closed everywhere, but I hope to open them up in the future. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy what I've got planned for Patreon and Tumblr. This one will go up on Tumblr in a little while, but here it is for you folks first. 

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“I’ll be back in half an hour,” you called over your shoulder as you struggled and flailed slightly to get out of your barista’s apron. Grabbing the huge packed lunch, you waited for your friend - and technically your boss - to acknowledge, and you swiped the cardboard carrier for the two hot drinks off the counter before bolting out of the door. 

Normally, Bresz came to the cafe for his lunch, and that had been how your relationship with the big, confident, flirtatious orc had started, but today, you wanted to surprise him. You almost blushed as you recalled those early encounters where he’d shamelessly complimented you, leaning his muscular frame on the counter top while you tried not to send jets of hot steam up into your own face while making him coffee. It hadn’t taken him long to ask you out for dinner, and soon after that you’d made it official. Six months later, and you were happier than you’d ever been in your whole life. 

He still liked to treat you and surprise you, even though technically he was no longer courting you. He still brought you flowers, he still cooked you frankly enormous, thankfully nutritious meals, and he still let his gang of loud, obnoxious, big-hearted orc friends rib him mercilessly for still behaving like a courting male. Bresz gave zero fucks about that, and proudly declared that he was completely in love with his little human girl, often nuzzling his tusks gently into your neck until you giggled and squirmed, and he was able to pick you up. You liked that a lot more than you let on. 

But now it was your turn to do something for him, and you were determined not to be thwarted by the generous spirit of your massive orc. You raced down the street, praying you’d get to the kick boxing and martial arts gym before he left, and to your relief, the street was devoid of anyone even resembling your seven foot tall boyfriend.

Grinning, your hands full of lunch, you backed the door open and turned around, only to come face to face with a slender tiefling. The combination of her dark blue skin and the soft lighting of the reception had made her blend in with the shadows, and you almost screeched with surprise when you noticed her. “Belle!” you gasped. “You scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” she chuckled, stepping back and taking the weight of the door for you so that you could step inside without it smacking you in the back. She wore a tank top that showed off her enviable arms, but your eyes didn’t stay fixed on her for long because Bresz emerged from the changing rooms and you almost forgot how to speak again. 

“Hey!” exclaimed when he saw you standing there. His whole face lit up and he beamed a broad smile at you, thick, blunt tusks glinting, and his coppery brown eyes crinkling attractively at the corners. “What are you doing here? I was just on my way to come and see you!” 

And with that, he had strode over to you and put his hands on your waist. He picked you up and kissed you, holding you aloft with absolute ease, as though you weighed nothing at all. “Oof. Careful! I wanted to surprise you,” you grinned. 

“And now that I’m surprised?” he asked. He sniffed ostentatiously and his grin widened even further. “You brought food? Oh man, I’m the luckiest orc in the whole world.”

“And coffee,” you added. “Put me down now?”

He set you down and placed both his palms over his heart and tilted his head back, his long, beaded braid swinging free down his back. “My hero!” 

“Knock it off, you two,” Belle laughed playfully. “I swear, it’s sickening.” 

“C’mon,” Bresz snorted. “Ignore the jealousy of the loveless. Let’s get out of here.” 

Belle snorted. “Don’t let my girlfriend hear you say that, Big Guy.”

He flashed her a broad smile and turned his attention back to you. “It’s a gorgeous day. You want to go to the park?”

You nodded, and he blew Belle a playful raspberry as he guided you to the door and held it open for you. Belle punched him on his colossal bicep as he passed her, and he ignored it. He was too focused on you. 

He wore a loose, white tank top that showed his stunning figure and gorgeous, green skin off beautifully, and his black tracksuit hugged his bubble-butt in just the most perfect way. It was so hard to keep your hands off him. Luckily though, you had your hands full with the giant, brown paper bag of sandwiches and the carry-tray for the drinks. Well, you did, until he glanced down at you and gasped. “Shit, here, let me take them for you!” 

“Bresz,” you complained. “I’m perfectly capable of carrying a bit of lunch. I know you’re a huge beefcake, but I’m not that useless!”

“Oh I know,” he said, a sweet and affectionate look dawning on his handsome, rough-hewn face. “I just like spoiling you. Please?” he said, his eyes widening.

You rolled your own at him and said, “You know I can’t refuse those puppy dog eyes. Fine.” You slammed the sandwich bag into his solid chest, and he laughed. 

“You still up for our usual Friday night dinner at my place tonight?” he asked as you settled down onto the warm grass at the edge of the park. A black dog was barking and tearing around the place like a bat out of hell, and the two of you watched it while you spoke and ate. 

“Of course,” you said, chuckling as the Labrador leapt into the air, twisting half way to catch a frisbee that its owner had hurled an impressive distance for ir. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, breaking off his gaze to look at you. He kissed your temple. “Just checking. You don’t always have to come over to mine…”

He was propped up on one arm, leaning close to you and casting a welcome, cool shadow across you, and you leaned your cheek against his arm for a moment before pressing a kiss into the dip of muscle at the base of his tricep. “I like your place,” you said. “Plus, you don’t fit in my bed.”

“You want dinner in bed? Or are you offering to be dinner?”

“Shut up,” you snorted. “You know what I meant. And you nearly broke mine the last time you came over and stayed the night.”

“Fair point. My place it is then.”

A shout from across the park made both of you look up, and you realised that the pink blur shooting towards you was the dog’s frisbee. Bresz chuckled and popped to his feet, catching it easily before it sailed all the way over and hit you, and sent it spinning away. The dog did a handbrake turn, screeching to change direction, and the pair of you laughed. 

“Smooth,” you said when he sat back down. 

Bresz simply kissed your forehead in response. 

That evening when you got to his after work, Bresz was in a bad mood. It was unusual to see your orc scowling, but you knew the moment you let yourself in that something was wrong. He turned and looked at you with such an expression of hopelessness that you thought something awful had happened. “What?” you asked, ditching your overnight bag and striding over to him. “What’s happened?”

“The oven’s bust,” he said. “I had everything planned out, and when I went to pre-heat it, it just sparked and went out. It’s not a fuse, and I think it’s dead.”

Your shoulders went slack with relief, and you started to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” he grumbled. 

“I’m not laughing at that, or you,” you said. “I just thought a person had died, not your oven!” you laughed. “You looked devastated.”

“I am devastated,” he countered. “I wanted to cook you something nice, and now we’re going to have to have omelet or something. Fuck.”

“We could go out?” you suggested. “There’s that nice place round the corner that you said you wanted to try.”

“Sure,” he said after a moment. “Ok. Let me get changed then. And don’t distract me this time,” he added, pointing a knuckly finger at you. 

You plastered an expression of pure innocence over your face. “I don’t know what you mean.”

One thick eyebrow sailed high, and he put his fists on his hips. “Oh, don’t you?” he smirked playfully. “I distinctly remember me having to ring up the restaurant last time because you got distracted and I ended up sporting the evidence of that distraction…”

“You couldn’t do your jeans up,” you smiled. “I remember. Well, I promise to behave and be a good girl.”

His pupils soared wide at that and he turned away. You thought you heard him curse in orcish and his breathing turned a little ragged as he stalked to his bedroom to change. Interesting. Power play was always something you’d found intoxicating, and half of the reason you’d been attracted to Bresz in the first place - before you’d started going out and learned what an absolute sweetheart he was - had been the size difference between the two of you. The other half had been his good looks and confidence. You’d have been lying if you’d not spent your (admittedly rare these days) nights alone thinking about him dominating you, using that power and strength he had to hold you up one handed by the wrists, teasing you with his other hand until you were a writhing, begging mess, and just… leaving you like that. You’d also entertained the idea of being spanked too, of mixing pleasure and pain together. 

You’d been standing there so long, thinking about his reaction to your simple promise to ‘behave and be a good girl’ that he had dressed and returned before you’d really registered it. 

“You alright?” he asked. 

You looked up at him, blinking. “You look amazing,” you said. “My big handsome orc. Come on, let’s go.”

He took you by the hand, his huge fingers engulfing yours in a gentle grip. 

Deciding to test the waters and explore your sneaking suspicions that he’d rather liked the idea of your being good for him, you accepted the menu from the waiter and then immediately handed it to Bresz without opening it. 

He frowned, curious, and had been about to ask what was going on when you interrupted him and said firmly but sweetly, “You know me well enough by now… Why don’t you choose for me?”

He swallowed thickly and then let out a rough exhale. “Sure. Alright,” he said, a gleam kindling in his rich, copper-brown eyes. 

He didn’t tell you what he’d chosen, and you didn’t find out until the waiter returned and asked if you were ready to order. 

“I think we are,” Bresz smiled. “I’ll have the surf n turf, and the lady will have the special.”

“Very good, sir,” your waiter nodded, and retreated. 

Bresz cocked an eyebrow at you. In silent answer you smiled, bowed your head, and sipped demurely at your water. 

Bresz reached out his hand across the table and took your small fingers in his. Your whole hand barely stretched across his palm, and you sank your teeth into your lower lip at the sight of it. “I love you,” Bresz rasped. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I think I’d be an idiot not to know that by now,” you reassured him. 

He kissed your knuckles, the set of his tusks so wide that they didn’t touch your hand at all, and he seemed to relax after that. It was almost as if he felt that he’d been too eager to take you up on your offer of handing control to him, and needed to apologise, or be reassured. You were only too happy to reassure him, and you also ran your foot gently up the inside of his calf beneath the table. 

“You,” he said, rolling his eyes, “Are trouble.”

“Good trouble?”

“Oh yes.”

The rest of your meal passed more normally after that, though he did take the opportunity to feed you some of his dessert from his spoon. His eyes glowed, reflecting the candle light like cats’ eyes at night, and he studied the way your lips moved around the curve of the spoon perhaps a little too closely. He insisted on paying, since he said it was his fault you’d had to eat out in the first place, and you let it slide this time. 

“Next one is on me though,” you said. “I do want to keep some independence you know.”

“Fair enough,” he said, sliding his hand around yours again as you walked home. 

Waiting for the lights to turn green at a pedestrian crossing, you tugged his arm and made him lean down to kiss you. You took his lower lip between your teeth and sucked hard enough to draw a deep, rumbling moan from him. “Are you trying to cause trouble?” he hissed. 

“Is it working?”

“Yes, you little minx,” he laughed. “Very much so.”

“Good.”

You made it to the hallway outside his front door before he cracked. He’d just started to look for his keys in his pocket when he found you already sneaking your hand in there. He paused, surprised, and looked down at you. He cursed again in orcish, and surged forwards towards you, pinning you against the wall with an exact and careful display of strength that made your knees turn weak. He grabbed your wrists and raised your arms, holding you in place while he crushed a kiss into your lips. “Fuck,” he snarled, feeling the way your body was responding. “Fuck, look at you…”

Your brain was spinning with just how perfect this was. You’d always enjoyed the way he took charge in the bedroom, but this had a new flavour to it, and you found yourself tipping into a gentle, buzzing part of your brain that you knew all too well as sub-space. Your knees turned to water and you felt your eyelids growing heavy, your lips parting, your chest heaving. 

He murmured your name, pulling back, and the moment his touch left your wrists, your arms fell limp to your sides and you let out a little whine. “We should get inside,” you managed to whisper. 

He nodded curtly, and as he turned to unlock his door, you saw the tent that he was sporting in his dark jeans. He looked almost fully hard already. 

Very interesting. 

You stepped inside as he held it open for you to enter first, and as he closed the door behind you, you turned. 

His apartment was large, open plan, with a kitchen just to the right beside the front door, and a large living area at the other end. Exposed brickwork, high ceilings, and big windows marked the building as a former warehouse, and he had divided the space up with tall bookshelves so that it didn't feel like an aircraft hangar inside. The effect was amazing, and the fact that he was a prolific reader was one of the things you had in common. You’d spent many an afternoon curled up on his battered old leather sofa together, your feet in his lap while he read. He would idly circle your ankle with his fingers and run his thumb over the arch of your foot while his eyes skimmed over the pages. Sometimes he would read passages aloud to you if he found something particularly worth sharing, and the whole thing lent an affectionate sense of domesticity to your relationship. 

Now, however, he stared at you with an impenetrable expression on his handsome face; part curious, part turned on, and part… something else that oscillated between hope and insecurity.

“So, er… that… back there…” he said. “That… That felt different… somehow…”

“Mmm,” you agreed. “I…” you shrugged and then said, “I like it when you’re rough with me.” He frowned. “I don’t mean that you hurt me, you don’t and you never have; it’s just… I like it when you use your strength carefully like that. A lot.”

He tilted his head slightly, his long braid swinging behind him like pendulum. His breathing was very shallow and you could see his pulse racing at the hollow of his throat. 

“What?” you asked. 

Bresz didn’t respond immediately. He turned away and braced his weight on his forearms, leaning on the kitchen table. “I… I’m always wary of bringing this up. It’s been misunderstood in the past, and… what with my being an orc… I mean, we’ve already got a reputation for being aggressive, brutish assholes… But…” 

You knew then what he was dying to say but couldn’t. You wondered if perhaps you should go first. Taking the plunge, you said quietly, “I’m sexually submissive. I think you probably figured that out already though. Look, I… I would be open to trying a few things if you’d like.”

From where he stood hunched over the counter, arms straight, back curved, his braid dangling down beside him, Bresz gave a great, shaking sigh. He rotated his head and glanced sideways at you with a soft smile. “Yes,” he said. “I’m not very good at admitting I have dominant tendencies. Especially because orcs get enough flack as it is. I… I didn’t want you to be afraid of me. I never want you to be afraid of me.”

You shook your head and stepped close to him, running your hands up his bare forearms to the sleeves of smart, plain white t-shirt he wore, and sliding your fingers over the bulging muscles of his biceps. You squeezed, though it was like squeezing a bronze statue, and he relaxed, straightening to his full height. 

“You’ve never given me even a hint of a reason to be afraid of you,” you said. “If you had, I would never have brought this up, and I wouldn’t be in a relationship with you. I trust you. I’d like to explore this new side of things.”

“Alright,” he said. “Let me get us both a drink, and we can talk about it.”

And you did. You talked late into the night about what each of you was prepared to do and to have done, what the rules were, what you thought you might need afterwards, and perhaps most importantly, you agreed on a colour system for during any play. 

It was Bresz’ idea. “Green, amber, and red,” he explained. “If I ask you for a colour, you have to give me one. Green means that you’re fine to keep going with whatever we’re doing. Amber means you need a break to think about it or to have a short breather, but you have to give me another colour soon after saying amber; either green or red. Red means we stop, no questions asked, no judgements, and the play ends. We do our aftercare, and we can talk about it later.” He paused and kissed you. “I can also call amber or red if I’m unsure or worried…”

You nodded, excitement fizzing in your lungs. “I can’t believe we’re going to do this,” you said. “You’ve given this some thought already, haven’t you?”

“We don’t have to do it,” he said quickly, eyes widening with worry. It was endearing how worried he was about dominating you and having you not like it.

“Shh,” you smiled, reaching for his cheek and asking him to move his drink out of his lap with a quick jut of your chin. He did, and once it was clear, you swung into his lap and straddled him. You stroked your fingers through the dark hair above his ears, and even though it was pulled back into his braid, you could still scrape your nails over his scalp enough to make him exhale and moan. “Let’s start slow and small. You said you like the idea of having me over your knee…” 

He grunted and you felt his cock twitch beneath you in answer. 

“And I very much like the idea of you using these big hands to make my skin all hot before massaging them and taking care of me. Why don’t we try that?”

“What, now?” he asked, his pulse leaping in his throat again. 

You rolled your hips and he groaned, setting his drink down on a nearby table and grabbing your hips, palms wandering over the curve of your ass as you sat there, working him up already. “Why not now?” you said. “Just a little test… If we decide we don’t enjoy it or it doesn’t work for us, then we can chalk it up to curiosity, and move on.” You very much hoped that wouldn’t happen. Already just the size of his hand on your hip was making you ache for the sting and heat of a spanking. 

He nodded slowly. “Alright. Alright,” he said more gently. He started to work his hands up your back in loving circles. “That it, my little girl,” he murmured. You’d told him what names you liked him to use, and hearing him use that one sent a jolt of heat straight between your legs. “My good little girl,” he crooned in your ear, his hot breath fanning over you. “If I agree to do this, will you promise to be good for me?” 

“I will,” you whispered. 

“Stand up,” he said, and you obediently slid off his lap and stood there while he sat, legs spread, hands resting on his thick, muscular thighs, staring up at you with pupils blown dark and wide. He cursed in orcish, and you shuddered. “You like it when I speak my mother tongue?” he asked, voice deepening slightly. 

You nodded silently, lower lip slightly between your teeth. 

“Well, well,” he chuckled. He said something which was clearly an order, but which you didn’t understand. You loved the way his tongue rolled behind his teeth when he spoke his own language. “You’ll have to earn a translation,” he added softly, and you whimpered. 

“What would you have me do?” you asked with just a little smile.

“Fetch me a glass of water.” It was not a request, but the order was gently given, as though he were testing out the sensation of demanding something from you. “You’ve made me thirsty.”

You nodded. “Yes, Sir,” you said, and he groaned again at his newly acquired title, eyes rolling. He liked that then. 

Returning, you presented him with the glass of water but he shook his head. He pointed at the floor between his parted knees. You smiled and knelt willingly before him, offering up the glass instead. “Much better,” he said, quite deliberately denying you the pleasure of being called a good girl. It seemed only fair; after all, you had not knelt immediately.  

He drank from it slowly, draining the glass. Bresz then handed it back to you and told you to put it on the table and return to your knees in front of him. 

You did. Each order, given with his softest, most gentle expression, sent pulsing heat to your clit and you were wet and breathing shallowly by the time you returned. This was finally everything you could ever have hoped for in a relationship with Bresz. It had been pretty perfect before, but knowing that he was willing to dominate you with consideration and playfulness was just… 

You didn’t have much time to think because he repeated his command in orcish, and then leaned one elbow on his knee, bringing his lips close to yours where you knelt between his legs, and said, “I told you to undress for me.”

Slowly you drew your top off over your head, revealing the (mercifully rather nice) underwear you’d selected that morning, but he grabbed your wrist as you made to continue undressing. 

“Wait.” The strength of his grip made you gasp. “Does that hurt?” he asked, concern flickering in his warm eyes.

You shook your head. “Almost.”

He paused and then carefully tightened his grip just a fraction. You watched his knuckles clench, his fingers close around your wrist, and you sagged sideways slightly with a mewl of pleasure. 

“Oh…” he crooned, drawing you easily up into the air to dangle by one arm, legs limp, “You are a dream. Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more turned on by you… you go and make a noise like that. Come here,” he said, and he simply draped you across his knees and drew the rest of your clothes off by himself. 

“Look at you,” he said again, circling the curve of your ass with his palm before squeezing hard enough to make you gasp and jerk slightly. “Easy,” he murmured. “Easy. I’ve got you, beautiful.”

He massaged you and stroked the backs of your thighs, letting his hands roam all over you until you were breathing deeply and revelling in the contact. 

“How do you feel?” he said. “Give me a colour.”

“Green,” you said immediately, and he laughed. 

And then he brought his fingers down hard over your ass cheek with a resonant ‘crack’. You gasped, more surprised than hurt, and he let it ring for a moment before rubbing a circle over it and caressing the place where heat and blood rushed in. Euphoria ripped through you a second later and you gripped his ankle, pressing your face down into his leg. 

“You took that so well,” he said softly, massaging gentle circles over your backside. “So well. Look at you. It’s all hot now too,” he smiled, running the pad of his thumb over the place where he’d spanked you. “You think you can do something for me?” 

“Mmhmm,” you nodded. 

“First, let’s get you relaxed again,” he purred, sliding his hand up your spine and back again. “Look how big my hands are compared to your little body,” he whispered in awe. “I feel like I’m going to break you all the time, but you’re so tough. You’re incredible. You’re beautiful. Look at you…” When you’d gone completely slack once more, he murmured, “Now then, my beautiful little one, you think you can count to five for me?”

You nodded. 

“I need you to say yes or no aloud,” he said firmly. 

The word left you as a moan. “Yes.”

“Good girl. Gods above, but you look so good like this,” he muttered, adding something under his breath in orcish. Then he bent right down over you and brought his tusks raking across your ass cheek. They dug in, but they were rounded and polished, smooth and sleek, and they slid over you, digging almost bruisingly deep without breaking the skin or truly hurting. He sucked a kiss onto your skin and played with your body a little more before beginning to make you count. 

“One… Two…” you said confidently as the first two strokes made contact in a slow, searing rhythm. 

“Good,” he said, and your ears buzzed at the praise. 

Strokes three and four came in rapid succession and left you winded and gasping. They stung, but the pain vanished into the rush and the heat afterwards. 

“Colour?” he prompted. 

“Amber,” you gasped, stilling for a moment. He stroked your skin with his leathery palms but otherwise remained silent. “Green,” you smiled, relaxing and waiting for the final spank. 

You practically yelled, “Five!” as the last one hit, but he immediately began to kiss you and croon praises against your skin. 

“Beautiful girl,” he purred. “You’re so beautiful. Well done, you took that so well. Look at you…” and he slid his fingers between your legs, seeking out your wet sex. When he found that you were dripping down your inner thighs, he growled and let one fingertip dance over your swollen clit, circling around your folds before withdrawing. You heard him moan and guessed that he was tasting you. 

“I want you,” he said quietly, returning his hand to you. You could feel how hard he was beneath you, and you knew you wanted nothing more than to have his cock buried inside you, filling you. 

“Please,” you whimpered. “Please…”

“I want to take care of you first,” he said. “Can I carry you?”

“Gods, yes,” you moaned, and he smiled and rolled you carefully over before scooping you up into his arms and standing. He nuzzled at your neck and your head lolled back over the crook of his huge arm to expose your throat. Orcs, like werewolves and a few other shifters, took an exposed throat as a sign of intimate trust, and the rush of his hoarse breath fanned across your skin mere moments before he mouthed kisses across your neck until you were whimpering, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for something more. This was far hotter than anything the two of you had ever done, and Bresz, you had discovered, was good in bed. 

He laid you down on his massive bed with its industrial scaffolding bed frame, and he turned you onto your front. “Here,” he said. “I’m going to get some lotion for you. I’ll be right back.” 

Bresz tested to see if it stung first, and when it didn’t, he worked his hands all over the heated areas of your cheeks until they were soothed and cool. 

He rolled you back over and took his time enjoying your body. You lay there, limp and gazing up at him with doe eyes. You wished he wasn’t wearing so many clothes, but somehow the pleasant buzzing in your head had smothered your ability to formulate such a complicated sentence. Luckily, he obliged anyway and was undressed in no time. 

He knelt over you, his thick cock hard, pre-come beading at the top again almost the instant that his underwear was off, and you found your fingers reaching for it, trailing up his thighs with weak, gentle strokes. He stared at you and his cock twitched and he cursed in orcish. That word you did know. 

“Please,” you said, parting your legs and sliding one hand down over your hips towards your centre. “I want you…”

He slipped his hands beneath your thighs and tugged you towards him, sinking his face to you and letting his tongue glide over your wet folds. He lavished attention on you, teasing circles and nudging your throbbing clit with the tip of his tongue until you thought you might just tear yourself apart with want. 

“Please!” you sobbed, tears rolling down from your eyes into your hair as you lay on your back. After the euphoria of being spanked and then cared for so gently, it was too much. He took you right to the edge and then backed away, repeating the process three times until you practically screamed. 

With a gentle, reassuring, and extremely playful smirk, he lined himself up, paused, and then sank hilt-deep into you in one stroke. His thick cock stretched you, his thumb swept a single upward motion over your clit, and his tip hit you so deep that you came around him with a sharp cry of pleasure.

He began to move while you were still coming. He murmured praises and told you how good you felt around him until it wasn’t long before he leaned forwards, one hand braced beside your head, and emptied himself into you with a series of deep, guttural grunts and groans. His strong muscles pressed his hips right up flush against yours, the heat of his release flooding you, as he gave himself completely to you. 

It was a long time before either of you could move, but eventually his cock softened and he rolled off you. Lying on his side, he stroked the backs of his fingers over your body. “You alright?” he asked in a raw, hoarse whisper.  

“Mmm,” you hummed happily, aching in all the right places. “I should clean up though.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard,” he said. 

“Nor me, and that’s saying something with you as my boyfriend,” you grinned back, still a little dazed yourself. 

He blushed sweetly at the praise, and you slipped away to clean up in his bathroom and brush your teeth before bed. 

You returned to find him dozing on his back, one arm flung across onto your side of the bed in an open invitation to snuggle up against him. You did, draping one leg over his thighs and tugging yourself as close to him as you could possibly get.

The next morning you woke and turned over, expecting to find Bresz snoring softly beside you, only to discover that the bed was empty and the sheets on his side were cold.

You sat up, surprised not to feel groggier than you did given your usual state in the mornings, but you relaxed a little when you heard sounds coming from the kitchen. It wasn’t all that unusual for him to get up before you, and he had been known to prepare breakfast for you at the weekend on more than one occasion. 

You glanced around the room and found that his t-shirt from the night before was still lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. You smiled and slipped it on, inhaling the scent of him for a moment before opening the door to his open-plan living and kitchen area. 

Looping your arms around his torso, you paused when you heard how rapidly his heart was beating, and pulled back. “Bresz?” 

“Mmm?” he asked, concentrating on spooning out his home-made granola onto a second bowl with some fruit. He didn’t look at you.

“Bresz, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. 

“Bresz,” you insisted, turning him around by the hips until he had to look at you. “Talk to me.”

He inhaled shakily and set down the spoon. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine. I’ve never slept better than I did last night, and I’ve never felt better after sex than I do this morning…”

He took another unsteady breath. “Good. I… I was worried that maybe… maybe I’d gone too far. That maybe… I’d hurt you or…” He swallowed thickly. “I was suddenly terrified that when you woke up… you’d… you’d be afraid of me. I didn’t want to see that. So… I made breakfast.”

“Oh my big, sweet orc,” you smiled, kissing his solid chest. “Pick me up…” 

His hands found your waist and he hoisted you up so that you could latch your legs around his hips. You snaked your arms around his thick neck and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“I love you,” you said. “Sounds like a bit of dom-drop talking there. You were perfect. You didn’t go too far, we talked about limitations beforehand, you always asked me for a colour if you weren’t sure, and you gave me the best aftercare any sub could ever want.”

“Good,” he sighed. “That’s good. I… The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you, I mean… for real, you know?”

“I know. You have a good heart, and that’s what will make you a good dom, I think, and an even better boyfriend. And look,” you said nodding over your shoulder at the fresh fruit and granola, “You’re still taking care of me.”

“I’ll always take care of you, whether we’re playing or not…” he growled, backing you towards an empty stretch of the counter and sitting you down on it. “You stay there a moment.”

“Yes… Sir,” you added cheekily. 

He chuckled and picked up a strawberry. For a moment you thought he was going to throw it at you, but instead Bresz fed you a few berries. Before you’d made any real kind of inroads into the cornucopia, however, he said, “I need you to promise me something though…”

“Ok…”

His warm brown eyes turned serious again. “If you decide you don’t want to do that again, I want you to promise me that you’ll say so. I don’t want you to do it just because you know I like it.”

You would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t sure that he was genuinely worried about putting you in a place you really didn't want to be. Instead, you grabbed hold of his shirt and tugged him a little closer. “Thank you,” you said. “But I categorically do want to do this again. As soon as possible.”

A small sound left his throat and he laughed quietly. “Well, I’m at your beck and call all weekend…”

“Surely it should be me serving you, Sir…?” you said, watching his eyelids flutter softly at your intonation. 

“Alright,” he said. “If that’s how you want to play it. How about this?” he asked, and proceeded to lay out his rules for the day. 

He began by demanding that you remove the clothing that you had purloined from him, and as punishment - since you had not asked permission to wear his shirt - you had to remain naked. You agreed to that. His apartment wasn’t overlooked by any other, being right on the river, and you felt comfortable enough walking around naked. You drew it off, and as you did he leaned down and took your nipple between his teeth, playfully tweaking it. He sucked a kiss over it, taking both your breasts in his hands and groaning softly as he kneaded them. Your back arched a little and he smiled and drew back. 

“Next,” he said, “I want you to go back to bed. I’m going to feed you the rest of your breakfast, and you’re going to eat it like a good little girl, and after that, you cannot walk anywhere in this apartment.”

“I have to stay in bed all day?” you asked, disappointed. 

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. But unless it’s a call of nature, I have to carry you wherever you want to go, but you have to earn it from me first. How does that sound?”

“I like that,” you said softly. “A lot.”

“Good,” he said. “Let’s see how you earn a change of scene after breakfast then. Go on,” and he practically shooed you off to the bedroom while he finished up preparing and altering his breakfast plans slightly.

He came in and found you lying naked on your back, ankles crossed, wrists crossed lightly above your head, and he stopped dead in the doorway. He looked like his brain had shorted. 

In orcish he said something, of which you were only able to make out the words ‘fuck’ and ‘beautiful’. Bresz rallied himself and knelt beside you. “Do you have any requests of me?” he asked softly.

“What if I get cold?” you said. 

“Then you can ask me for something to wear, but it’ll be something of mine, and it’ll be my choice. Ok?”

You nodded. 

“Words?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he said, and he let his fingertips play briefly up your calf. You jerked at the sudden touch, and he smiled, looking at your face with a slight expression of wonder. “You’re already tipping back into sub-space, aren’t you?” 

He was right. You wouldn’t need much encouragement today. The warmth filled your head; that blissful vagueness of knowing he was there to take care of you, so long as you did all that he asked, and that he would never ask too much of you. You nodded and he set the bowl of fresh fruit down beside you and kissed your stomach and up between your breasts. “Let me take care of you then,” he said, his words echoing your thoughts. “I promise I’ll take care of you.”

He did. 

He fed you and kissed you, taking his time with you, arranging your body how he liked so that he could enjoy you and even taste you too. He used his mouth and brought you screamingly close to release before backing away again. “Not yet,” he said, leaving you whimpering. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he added, picking up the now-empty bowl and returning to the kitchen. “Don’t move, and do not touch yourself,” he said from the doorway. 

When he returned, he found you squirming slightly, but otherwise well behaved. Your reward for that was for him to take his shirt off, and then you were quickly told that you were not allowed to touch him unless you asked permission first. You whined a little at that, but agreed pretty quickly, and with that, he picked you up and carried you out into the living room.

He let you rest on the couch for a moment, taking a good long time to caress you and reassure you, making sure you were well and truly into sub-space, before announcing quietly that he had some work emails he needed to look over, and that he would like you to kneel beside him on the floor while he did that. “You don’t have to do anything, but just -” he ran his palm over his thigh for a moment and said, “Just be there, and don’t interrupt me unless you absolutely have to. Alright?”

You nodded. 

“I promise you’ll be rewarded though,” he smiled. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

He fetched his laptop and proceeded to ignore you for a solid half hour. Well, he might have ignored you, but his cock told a different story as you laid your head against his thigh and basked in the gentle, swirling euphoria of being there with him like this. You’d often sat on this sofa with each other in companionable silence, but this was different entirely. While your presence felt needed, necessary almost, you also burned with the desire to touch him, to make him gasp and cry out and need your touch as much as you needed his. 

That, you realised, was the whole point of this exercise; to sit there and luxuriate in the quiet limbo he had created, settling into the new situation while the incentive to behave hung over you throughout the duration. 

By the time he finished on his laptop, he was hard, and you suspected that he hadn’t got all that much done. He closed the lid and set it aside, staring down at you with his eyes shining. “Well,” he said. “Didn’t you do well with that little test?”

You smiled, basking in his praise.

“Thank you, my beautiful little one,” he said. “Thank you for doing that for me. Now, would you like your reward?”

You nodded and tentatively reached a hand to his thigh. He bowed his head slightly, giving you permission to touch him, closing his eyes, and you repositioned yourself between his legs, unzipping his fly and drawing his jeans and underwear off his hips and down to the floor. His cock sprang free and you thumbed an arc across the sharp cuts into his muscle above his hips. He rumbled something softly, and you licked your lips and took the tip of his cock into your mouth. You tasted his pre-come on your tongue and moaned softly, making his balls clench slightly. He bucked upwards a little but caught himself in time before you choked. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, letting his head roll back into the sofa cushion behind him. “Fuck, that’s so good.” 

You let your tongue play briefly with the ridge around his head, licking at his slit, before taking him as deep as you could, wrapping your other hand around the remainder of his shaft. The long, deep groan of satisfaction he let out was reward enough for your good behaviour, but soon, as you got to work in earnest, his chest was heaving and his fingers were clenched in your hair. He tried so hard not to fuck your throat, but he couldn’t keep his hips completely still. 

You matched your rhythm to his, and soon he grunted that he was close. You let your fingertips tease his tightening balls, and he released into your mouth. You drank him down as he came with a bellow, breathing hard. 

He reached a shaky hand down and tilted your head up. Your eyes were watering, and a little of his release had escaped down your chin. “You look perfect,” he smiled, thumbing it away. “You did so well.”

That marked the mood for the rest of the day. Since it was your first time playing together like this, he kept it relatively simple. He did indulge - though whether it was for his benefit or yours, you weren’t sure and didn’t care - in another session of spanking. He had you half draped over his left knee and half over the sofa. You were already in sub-space, so again he didn’t linger too long on praising you first. That would come after.

Each time his fingers collided with your exposed backside, your knees wobbled and you felt a heady rush sweep through you. The pain was more like heat than discomfort, but it still stung gloriously. Your ass felt like it was glowing after just a few, but then the pain began to grow with each strike until you found yourself breathless and gasping. “Amber,” you said softly - so softly that he almost missed it. 

You felt the rush of air as his hand shot towards you again, but he pulled back at the last moment and stroked his fingers through your hair instead, curious and concerned. “You doing alright? Do you need a break?”

“I… I’m not sure…” 

“Ok. You were doing so well for me. Do you think you can take three more? Just three more, and I’ll let you stop…”

You whimpered, not quite sure if you could take three, but you nodded. 

“I need you to give me a green, and then I need you to count them,” he said, listening carefully to the timbre of your voice in your response.

“Green,” you croaked after another few seconds. “Green.” 

“That’s it,” he praised. “Well done. You’re being such good girl for me, you’re taking it so well.” 

The first wasn’t so bad, but the second and third hurt. Your skin was sensitive and hot, and the pain was just pushing through the pleasure enough that you weren’t sure you could handle anything else. You were hyper aware of all sensations, but it took you a while to notice that he was reaching to the coffee table in front of the sofa for the lotion already. As the cold liquid touched your skin you yelped, but he steadied you. 

“Easy,” he said. “I’ve got you. Let me take care of you. Let me take care of my beautiful, good little girl.”

You felt your arms waver and you sank down, face first, onto the cushion. Each slow circle of his thumb and palm over your searingly hot skin felt like ice on a burn, and he took his time with you. Bresz used both hands, working up and down your legs, reassuring you all the while. Pride soared in your chest that you had succeeded. He had known your limits and taken you to them, supporting you all the way. 

When he was satisfied that your skin was no longer aflame, he turned you gently over and rested you on your side with your head in his lap. He stroked your hair and gazed adoringly at you with glassy eyes. As you settled and calmed, he leaned forwards again and picked up a large glass of water. “Here,” he murmured. “Drink some of this.”

You hadn’t realised how thirsty you’d become, and you allowed him to hold your head and cradle you softly while you drank gratefully. 

Returning the nearly empty glass to him you hadn’t noticed that you had begun to shiver, and he frowned. 

“You’re cold,” he said, looking down the length of your body and finding goosebumps prickling your thighs and arms. “You should have said something…”

“I didn’t really notice,” you admitted. It felt so nice to be lying in his lap, feeling small and sheltered after the euphoria had settled down to a pleasant, all-pervasive hum. 

He frowned and carried you to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed. He pulled out a clean hoodie - one of his kick-boxing ones - and asked you to put it on. You snuggled into it and he cupped your cheek in his hand. “You look so tiny in that,” he said. “It’s just swallowed you up…”

The two of you cuddled together for a long time, just sitting on his bed, enjoying each other’s steady presence. 

By the end of the afternoon, you were beginning to resurface, and while you were honestly exhausted, it was the perfect kind of tired. Bresz seemed tired too, and you both wound down together, curled up on the sofa. 

“Do you want to put your own clothes on now?” he asked by way of signalling that he was ready to end it. 

“Maybe let me get some underwear and my pyjama trousers on…” you said. 

“I’ll get them for you. You stay there.”

When he came back, he too had a shirt on, and while you would always relish the opportunity to stare at his naked body, it felt right that you should both get changed. 

“Are you alight?” he asked when you’d got a few more clothes on besides the hoodie. “Do you need anything?”

“Just a cuddle,” you said, and he tugged you gently into his lap. “And maybe some food? You?”

“Mmm, a cuddle,” he smiled back, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And I’ll order some pizza. I think we earned it, don’t you?”

You nodded.

He turned the TV on and ordered. When the food arrived, he didn’t feed you, and you both enjoyed the quiet closeness. You were ravenous, and ate much more than you would normally have done. When you said as much, he laughed. “You worked really hard for me today,” he said. “And maybe I don’t want to do this all the time, but… I have to say this has been one of the best weekends I’ve ever had with you.”

“Mmm, I had fun too. I think I actually needed that.” 

The light of the TV flickered, but you ignored whatever was on and let yourself be lulled into a warm, cosy, full-bellied sleep. You didn’t remember being carried to bed or tucked in, but you stirred in the middle of the night to find Bresz wrapped tightly around your body, like a protective outer shell. 

His breathing was deep, even, and steady, and his arm was curled around your waist. He shifted slightly and, impossibly, pulled you even closer to him, mumbling something soft in orcish. You would have to ask him what that particular word meant in the morning. At that moment, you knew you had never been more comfortable in your whole life, and with that thought, you drifted back to a dreamless sleep. 

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