Male orc gladiator drabble (Patreon)

Hey folks, so I've been sick as the proverbial doggo lately, and I haven't managed to finish Mermay story #5 yet, but I did write this orc gladiator drabble after watching a bit of the 1960 film of Spartacus on Netflix. It's not my usual fare, so I hope you don' t mind a bit of angst...

Content: Gender-neutral reader, biiiig male orc, slavery, gladiators, and attempted goading into rape (spoiler - it doesn't happen!)

The orc stood, his bruises, welts, and cuts from the ring showing even in the dark green-grey of his bare skin. The door swung open with a raucous creak, and as he shifted his weight, the warrior ever ready, the thick iron bands around his ankles rattled, a short length of chain between them dragging on the floor. 

He was snarling behind the smith-wrought iron muzzle they’d put on him. His tusks ached from the way it pushed against them, and fury flared hot in his ice grey eyes. 

“Mor’akh,” the guard chuckled. “Look here what we’ve got here for our unbeatable champion…” And with that, he thrust a young adult human into the room. 

Mor’akh’s arm shot out to steady the human before the slave could fall face first into the filth of his cell. “What’s this?” the orc rumbled sarcastically. “You want me to eat it?”

“No, you idiotic hunk of muscle, we want you to fuck it!” the gladiatorial overseer snickered from behind the guard. 

Mor'akh’s large, grey eyes went wide with horror and his touch recoiled from the cleaned, oiled skin of the human who had been ‘prepared’ for him. 

“Go on,” the overseer urged. “Take what is yours, warrior. You beat that naga in the ring today and you won me a lot of gold. Call this… a personal favour.”

“I don’t want your ‘favour’,” he spat, turning away. “I want my freedom.”

“Fuck the slave - entertain me just once more - and we’ll see…”

The human’s eyes were wide and a trembling began to spread up the limbs and body of the terrified creature. But the slave did not step back. The slave met his eyes and found something there that had not been present in the gaze of any other that day: mercy. 

“I will not fuck that human,” the orc said. “Your entertainment for the day is over.”

He turned his hugely muscled back on the two standing in the doorway, and they left in disgust, shutting the human in with him. 

“Fuck that slave, Mor'akh,” the overseer said in a voice as soft as a sand snake’s hiss, “Or you’ll never breathe free air.”

“I am not an animal,” Mor'akh snarled, turning slowly to face the door. 

He was met with amused laughter. 

“No, an animal wouldn’t have been able to resist,” the guard snickered. “If you’re not going to, maybe I’ll have a turn later…”

Rage flared hot and pure in the orc’s chest and he flew at the door. His chains simply burst as though made of brittle clay, and he grabbed the iron bars of his cell door in massive fists and roared, “I am not an animal!” 

The pair in the corridor reeled backwards, the overseer tripping over the guard in his pale-faced shock as the bars creaked and groaned, bending under the orc’s immense strength. 

Mor'akh released the bars and turned around. Breathing heavily, he blinked slowly at the human who stood in the corner of his cell. “I am not an animal,” he whispered.

The human smiled.