Their daily life in coexistence consisted of insulting each other until Urhl disappeared, usually after threatening to burn the fuzzy prince alive.

Astar's gaze darted around the cave, annoyed and frustrated, looking for a reason to fight that morning, his eyes finally settling on the pile of furs Urhl had provided.

"I demand clothes," he stated, his voice rough.

Urhl chuckled.

"Clothes? Why? These furs keep you warm. Warm enough for a pampered prince like you."

Astar's cheeks flushed.

"I'm not accustomed to being…exposed, naked in front of anyone" he muttered, averting his gaze.

Urhl raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Exposed? Like a boar hog, ready for slaughter?"

Astar flinched, pulling himself tighter into the furs.

"I am a prince. I deserve some respect, at least. Even from…something like you."

Urhl snorted, tossing his axe onto a nearby rock.

"Respect? From a beast? Don't make me laugh, prince."

"I'm not asking for your respect. Just…clothing. Something that covers my— look at you, even a monster like you is dressed… hideously dressed, but dressed."

Urhl watched him, amusement dancing in his cloudy eyes.

"Fine. Fine. I suppose a prince deserves some dignity."

Urhl disappeared into the labyrinthine depths of his cave.

In one of the chambers, he grunted, digging through a pile of mismatched garments, trinkets, and tools, many of whiche belonged to human victims. Beneath several dented cooking pots lay a pile of roughspun cotton fabric - the sort worn by common farmers and laborers. He grabbed a pair of breeches, stained with dirt and neglect, and a roughspun shirt, frayed at the sleeves.

A while later, he returned to Astar.

"See, Your Highness? An attire that is proper for your station."

He tossed the clothes at Astar, who caught them reflexively.

Astar stared at the clothes, wrinkling his nose. The stench of mildew clung to the fabric, making his stomach churn. They were coarse and rough, nothing like his fine silks.

"Are these... Are these all you have?"

Urhl snorted, a deep rumbling sound that echoed through the cavern.

"Clothes are clothes." He gestured to the clothes with a disdainful flick of his wrist. "Better than nothing, wouldn't you say?"

Astar looked at the pathetic offering, shame burning hot in his chest. He had expected nothing, yet the sting of humiliation cut deep. "I suppose..." he mumbled, pulling the shirt over his head. The fabric scratched against his skin, rough and unfamiliar.

Urhl watched, amusement flickering in his eyes. He circled Astar, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the cave floor.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he boomed. "Put them on. I haven't got all day."

Astar swallowed, his throat dry. He pulled the breeches over his legs, struggling with the unfamiliar fastenings. They felt loose, wrong.

Urhl's laughter echoed through the cave.

"Look at you, prince. Dressed like a common thief!"

Astar looked down at himself, feeling utterly humiliated.

"I..." Astar began, but words failed him.

Urhl stepped closer, his shadow engulfing Astar completely. He reached out, his massive hand hovering over Astar's shoulder. He paused, his fingers twitching.

Astar flinched, bracing himself for a blow. Instead, Urhl's hand gently brushed his cheek, a surprisingly delicate touch.

"You're...clean," Urhl mumbled, his voice gruff with something akin to surprise. He pulled his hand back, as if burned. "Like...like a bird."

Astar stared at him, bewildered.

Urhl, seemed lost in thought with eyes clouded, distant. He stared at Astar, taking in the prince's graceful frame, his pale skin, the perfection of his face.

Astar shifted uncomfortably under Urhl's gaze. The coarse fabric of the clothes felt suddenly oppressive, highlighting his vulnerability.

"These clothes..." Urhl began, his voice hesitant. "They don't suit you."

Astar's brow furrowed. He couldn't quite decipher the emotion in Urhl's eyes. Was it disgust? Pity? Something else?

Urhl shook his head, as if clearing away cobwebs.

"They hide you," he muttered. "They hide your..."

His voice trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Astar felt a blush creep up his neck.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Urhl glanced away, grunting.

"Forget it," he mumbled. "Just...eat something. I’ll bring some pork later."

Days bled into one another, marked only by the cycles of light filtering through the occasional cracks in the cave ceiling. Astar’s initial terror gave way to a numb acceptance. He’d lost track of time, the world outside the cave a distant memory. His eyes, once accustomed to the bright sunlit halls of his palace, had begun to adjust to the perpetual gloom. He'd learned to navigate the cavernous tunnels by touch and sound, his senses heightened in the darkness.

Urhl treated him with a gruff indifference. He brought him food, cooked, but a far cry from the delicacies Astar was used to. He'd sit across from Astar, eating with a primal ferocity that made Astar flinch.

Sometimes, Urhl would speak about his day, his voice a timber rumble echoing through the cavern. It was mostly about the hunt, the pack, the outside world. Astar listened, careful not to speak unless spoken to. He'd learned that most questions would only provoke a grumble or worse.

Though Urhl brought him food, he never offered Astar a comforting word, never inquired about his hopes.

Astar missed the warmth of the sun, the soft whisper of silk against his skin, the sound of laughter and music. He missed his people, his retinue, even the cloying aromas of his father’s endless feasts. He missed the feeling of power, of being surrounded by those who bowed before him. Now, he was nothing.

Boredom gnawed at him. To deal with the oppressive silence, Astar usually wandered the labyrinthine caves for fun. His explorations led him to forgotten chambers, filled with broken weapons, piles of furs, strange trinkets. Then, tucked behind a pile of bones, he found something interesting.

A clay jug, sealed with beeswax. Curiosity got the better of him. Using a shard of rock, he broke the seal. Inside, a pungent aroma filled the air. A wine bottle forgotten by the orc.

Astar uncorked the jug, taking a tentative sip. It burned going down, but a strange warmth spread through his chest. Another sip, bolder this time. Then another, until the jug was empty.

He felt lighter, freer.

Urhl finally found him, far from his prisoner’s chamber. Astar slumped against the obsidian, giggling softly to himself. The wine, pungent and potent, had loosened his tongue.

Urhl strode into the chamber, his face contorting in irritation. "What are you doing?"

Astar blinked, struggling to focus. He looked at Urhl, a slow, awkward smile spreading across his face. "I’m… I’m having a party of one.”

Urhl grunted, his brow furrowing. "Idiot." He squatted down, examining Astar's glazed eyes and flushed cheeks. "You've been drinking."

Astar hiccuped, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes! It's...it's really quite good! Thank you for being a good monster host."

“Drinking is forbidden to prisoners,” Urhl growled, his dissatisfaction growing. He nudged the empty jug, sending it rolling across the stone floor. "Where did you even find that?"

"Behind the...the bones," Astar slurred, pointing vaguely with a shaky finger. "Not very safe, really. You should put them in a box or something." He let out a throaty laugh.

Urhl stood up, his anger growing. "You were not supposed to touch anything. You're my prisoner," he spat out, frustrated. "Not a stray dog to sniff around as you please."

Astar looked at Urhl with a defiance intensified by the alcohol.

"What are you going to do about it?"

Urhl stared at Astar, his eyes flickering with a mix of frustration and something that looked like amusement. Astar’s drunken bravado was as pathetic as his whole existence.

“You need to sober up,” Urhl finally growled. “I’ll take you to sleep.”

In his chamber, Astar swayed on his feet, blinking up at him with wide, watery eyes.

“I’m cold.” he mumbled, his voice thick with wine.

Urhl snorted. "Is that my damn problem?"

"Use your stupid, massive, hideous body to warm my furs. You surely stink but, warm is warm." His gaze decisive. Again, the prince was ready to fight.

Urhl’s gaze hardened. He had no patience for this. He cared nothing for comfort, need taking not even the slightest consideration to sleeping arrangements.

He finally grunted, his expression unchanged, a reluctant compromise. After all, he was sleepy too.

"You, annoying little shit. All right, but I’m not watching over you. You just...stay put." He shook his head, dismissing the unexpected rise of irritation. Urhl threw himself awkwardly onto Astar’s pile of furs.

Astar, noticed the way Uruhl shifted, as if trying to put distance between them.

Urhl's jaw clenched. He strained to keep his face impassive, but Astar could see the rage simmering beneath the surface.

“See? Even a creature as… offensively smelly and repulsive as you, can provide some warmth."

Urhl stared at Astar, his face contorted in frustration. The prince's shameless audacity was infuriating. He should toss the drunkard back against the wall, leave him to shiver and contemplate the dangers of stirring his wrath.

“Whatever. Just don’t complain when I roll over on you.”

Astar, spurred on by his success, grinned drunkenly and shuffled towards the furs, collapsing onto them with a sigh of contentment. He nestled against Urhl’s side, surprisingly close, and instantly drifted off, his breath becoming a soft puff of warmth against the orc's rough hide.

Urhl lay stiffly, unconvinced by the necessity of this arrangement. He watched Astar's chest rise and fall with shallow breaths, his face slack and peaceful. The prince looked so vulnerable, so completely at ease.

He shifted his massive weight, trying to pull away, but Astar burrowed closer, unconsciously seeking out the heat of his massive body.

Moments later, Astar thrashed in his sleep, murmuring incoherently, his face flushed, his breath coming in short, gasps. Unconsciously, he shifted closer to Urhl, straddling the massive orc's thigh. The monster, already half asleep, mumbled and rolled a bit further away, but it was no use.

“Ah”

The prince began a rhythmic thrusting motion against the monster’s thigh, clumsily mimicking a sexual act. The innocent prince was having a wet dream.

Urhl's eyes snapped open, startled. He looked down at Astar, bewildered by the sleeping prince's contorting movements and the warmth spreading against his thigh. He tried to pull away, to disentangle the prince from his slumber, but Astar's hold tightened, his breaths growing ragged, his moans high-pitched whimpers, his long svelte legs trembling, his buttocks tensed. Astar's subconscious sensations intensified, and he released a small cry. It was so unlike anything Urhl had ever heard from any of his human captives.

Urhl stared, speechless, as Astar's intense swaying of hips continued until, finally, with a shudder and a soft groan, his body relaxed. Astar was passed out, sprawled over the monster’s thigh, breathing heavily, oblivious to reality.

The orc couldn’t comprehend it. What the hell was this creature doing? Couldn’t be a sexual act, at all. He had seen the primal urges of his own kind, the raw, untamed copulation that fueled their public mating rituals. But this was different. This was delicate, pure.

He put Astar on his back, legs spread, and slowly reached out, his massive hand hovering hesitantly over Astar’s lower belly. Then his fingers brushed against the prince’s cheap clothes. The monster decided to slide his hand further, under the fabric, his fingers finding soft, warm, sweaty flesh.

Astar stirred, murmuring incoherently, but didn’t wake. Urhl’s fingers pressed deeper, exploring. His touch sent a shiver through Astar’s body, causing him to twitch and moan slightly. Urhl’s brow furrowed. Between the prince's spread legs, there was a thick, warm substance, slick and yielding beneath the monster’s fingertips.

The monster’s breath hitched. The angelic prince, even unconscious, was responding with a hidden fervor to this invasion of his body, his silky, sticky flesh hardening again, blood accumulating in such an efficient manner. He could feel the delicate flesh throbbing with instant arousal.

And the worst thing was that he felt it, too, a strange heat spreading through his own core, an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation in his lower belly.

This was wrong, unnatural. Humans were prey, livestock, to be hunted and mastered, not…creatures that could stir such primal response in a creature like him.

He recoiled, his rough hand withdrawing as if burned. His face flushed, his ears flattened against his skull. He turned away, stumbling back a few steps, not trusting himself to remain near the sleeping prince.

He cursed under his breath and left the cave almost running.