Astar woke with a pounding headache and a sticky feeling between his legs. The stench of damp earth filled his nostrils, reminding him of his captivity. He sat up, disoriented, stroking his forehead. He vaguely recalled fragments of a dream, but the details had eluded him. Maybe it was one of those wet dreams that had been invading his peaceful slumber every once in a while since his puberty. Disgustingly embarrassing and totally not befitting his miserable situation. This was beyond bearable, not only he was dirty from the cave, but his body released unpleasant substances too in his sleep.

He searched for his monstruous captor in the cave and finally, in a distant chamber, he squinted at Urhl, who stood hunched in a corner counting coins. When the orc felt the prince’s presence, he avoided his gaze.

“Orc,” Astar called out, his voice hoarse from sleep. “I require a bath. A hot bath. Immediately.”

Urhl flinched, almost as if Astar's voice was a jump scare.

“What?” he grumbled.

Astar narrowed his eyes. “You heard me. I am tired of this filth. Bring me water. And a bathtub. And firewood. And soap. And a towel. And… perhaps some dried herbs for a soothing scent.”

Urhl’s dark green eyes flickered to Astar’s thighs. He knew what was coating those thighs, he felt it between his fingers. It was hot, slimy, and had a strange smell. He shifted again, the muscles in his broad back bunching beneath his hide.

Urhl swallowed hard. His throat tightened, and he mumbled, “You don’t need baths.”

This only served to fuel Astar's tongue.

"Oh I don't? Well, I suppose that's a natural answer coming from you, a dirt-coated monster who smells like… like…"

Astar stopped there. The orc certainly smelled, but Astar had noticed that this smell wasn't exactly offensive, like the smell of a pigsty. The demonic creature reminded Astar of something natural and raw, like a rainy forest. He smelled of fertile dirt, timber, moss, roots, mushrooms.

Astar’s words hung in the air. The orc shifted nervously, scratching at his rough skin, as if not wanting to continue arguing. The monster was acting strange that morning.

"Fine. I'll take you somewhere. Somewhere… clean."

"Clean? In this hell?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Urhl grunted, turning away. "Yeah. Clean. Somewhere with…water. Hot water."

Astar felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, this land of darkness wasn't entirely a giant torture dungeon.

"Excellent," he said. "I'd appreciate that."

"Come on, then. Follow me."

Urhl turned, heading towards the labyrinthine depths of his cave. Astar hesitated, glancing around nervously. This might be the orc’s way to tell him that he would be boiled alive.

"Where exactly are we going?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Urhl shrugged. "Somewhere where you can clean yourself. You'll like it. And shut up before I change my mind.”

They walked for what felt like hours, Urhl leading the way with a flickering torch. Astar followed, his bare feet slipping on the damp stone floor.

Finally, Urhl stopped, pushing aside a curtain of moss.

Astar gasped.

Before him lay a steaming pool of sulfurous water, surrounded by towering obsidian walls. Steam rose from the surface, carrying with it the scent of sulfur. Despite the unpleasant aroma of the sulfur, there wasn’t any dirty smell. The hot water seemed to be clean.

Astar studied the pool. The sulfurous aroma stung his nostrils, and the roiling, greenish water barely resembled a bath. Still, any water was better than none.

Astar walked near the border and began to remove his coarse shirt, as if the orc wasn’t there.

Urhl found his gaze snagged on the prince’s shoulders, the delicate muscles rippling as Astar shrugged off his garment. He tried to look away, to focus on the torchlight or the obsidian walls, but Astar’ grace drew his eyes back again and again.

Astar, unaware of Urhl’s rapt attention, meticulously undressed. He moved with a practiced slowness, the prince he was, a lingering grace even in captivity. Urhl found himself captivated by each graceful movement, by the sheen of sweat on his slender back, by the fine lines tracing his spine, by his long golden hair.

As the prince lowered the last of his garments, Urhl’s breath hitched. Astar’s exposed legs were long and slender, unblemished as the rest of his body, muscles taut and pearly skin. The monster hadn’t seen anything like it before, let alone in a man. Sleek and strong, yet undeniably delicate male beauty. For Urhl, who had known only rough, gritty forms, it was like staring into another world. Even the way his skin seemed almost translucent in the torchlight, was alluring. His eyes traced the graceful curve of Astar’s buttocks, the smooth contours of his hip, and Urhl felt this strange heat spread through him. Astar, oblivious to the orc's wide-eyed inspection, dipped a tentative toe into the steaming water.

“It’s hot,” he said, his voice a murmur. “Will this finally be a treat for poor me?”

For his part, the monster was in a mental battle, denying to be worried about what might happen under his pants.

Astar took a deep breath and stepped into the hot water with an audible sigh. He submerged himself fully, the steam rising around him like a swirling mist. He felt a wave of soothing warm all over his body, the hot water caressing every inch of skin and washing away grime and sweat.

Moaning, Astar sank into the water deeper, letting the sulfurous heat soak into his tense muscles. He closed his eyes and smiled. The water worked its magic, calming his body and his mind.

He hadn’t realized how exhausted he was. The journey, the ordeal, the terror of Urhl’s capture and the solitude of his cave prison had all taken their toll. But here, in this strange, steaming pool, he felt a glimmer of peace.

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He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the scenery. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the obsidian walls. Some vegetation scattered, some rays of sun filtering through holes. It was almost luxurious.

He chuckled softly, a sound that echoed in the cavern.

"You know, Orc," he said, turning his head towards the shadows, "this isn't half bad."

Urhl remained silent, watching the way the water caressed the prince's pale skin, catching the firelight and making it look like tiny diamonds. It made him think of something beautiful, something fragile, something he could easily crush.

Astar noticed Urhl's attention.

"Would you care to join me?" he asked, meeting the orc's gaze, which reflected the light, like that of a predator. "The water is quite soothing."

Urhl shook his head, a gruff sound that rumbled in his chest.

"It…it's not for me," he mumbled, shuffling his feet. "I'd rather stay here." His gaze darted back and forth, avoiding Astar's eyes.

Astar frowned a little, peering at the orc through the steam.

"I misunderstand. Do you fear the heat?"

Astar decided to ignore Urhl's response.

Later, he shifted in the hot pool, spreading his legs, enjoying the way the water cleaned his most sensitive areas. He couldn't help but stare down at his bare body.

He hadn’t looked at himself this closely in days. The bareness felt strange, vulnerable, but he was happy to be free of important wounds except for some scratches here and there. He began to gently scrub his genitals, trying to get rid of the dry sperm from last night.

The water helped. It tingled in a pleasing way. It was a sensation that had become almost forgotten, buried under layers of fear and filth. Astar let his fingers work rhythmically, cleansing slowly. It was a moment of pampering his body, a connection lost since his capture.

He hummed softly, a childish tune escaping his lips.

Urhl couldn’t tear his eyes away from Astar. The orc imagined how Astar’s hand would be squeezing his manhood, perhaps reaching between his buttocks to clean there too, and swallowed hard.

The prince moved slowly. His pale skin was flushed from the hot bath. The gentle movements, the deliberate cleaning, seemed utterly innocent. If only he knew that his monster captor was unwillingly reacting to his beauty, if only he knew the danger he was in.

The monster wanted nothing more than to leave this cavern, but he couldn’t. His feet felt rooted to the spot.

--

He needed to get away from the prince, from those long limbs, that captivating grace, and the way his pale skin practically gleamed in the firelight. Urhl had never understood why humans found each other attractive. Their soft skin, delicate bones, fragile constitutions – they seemed designed to be crushed, not worshipped.

He marched out of the cave, the cold morning air a welcome slap against his heated face.

He stopped in front of a dimly lit hut, pale smoke curling from a hole in the thatched roof. He pushed the door open with a grunt.

N'hoor was there, sprawled on a pile of furs, her thick braids coiled around her head. Her dark green eyes flickered open, a predatory gleam in them. A circle of younger orcs huddled around her, engaged in discussion.

"Urhl," she greeted him, her voice sharp and authoritative. "You needed something?"

Urhl ignored her question, his gaze lingering on the meaty swell of her thighs. She was a sight, strong and bold, unafraid.

N'hoor sensed his intention.

She moved off the furs and walked towards the giant.

"Leave," she ordered to the young orcs.

Once they were alone, Urhl watched as N'hoor stripped off her rough, leather garments, revealing a body that was as strong and unyielding as his own. Her skin was dark and smooth, covered in a light sheen of sweat. Her muscles rippled beneath the surface, a testament to her prowess both in and out of the bedroom.

N'hoor approached him, her eyes burning with hunger. She ran her fingers through Urhl's arm, tugging him down onto the furs. He followed her lead, his body responding instinctively to her touch, as so many times before.

N'hoor wasted no time, grabbing a fistful of Urhl's long, black hair and yanking his head down towards her breasts. Her nipples were hard, already swollen, and she knew the brute would be more than happy to eat them.

Urhl growled low in his throat but didn't resist as N'hoor forced his face into her breasts. He began to suckle at the flesh of her breasts, alternating between them. His rough tongue flicked and teased, sending shivers down N'hoor's spine.

She moaned in approval, not minding that his lover bit her nipples with his sharp teeth, arching her back to press herself further against his mouth.

N'hoor ground her hips against the air as Urhl continued to eat her breasts. She could feel him growing harder by the second, straining against his pants. She smiled to herself; she knew exactly how much he craved this – and she wasn't above using it to get what she wanted.

N'hoor's breathing quickened as the pleasure built within her, her nails digging into the furs beneath. Urhl's lips, tongue and teeth were driving her wild, his strong hands kneading a fleshy breast while sucking hard and biting the other. She arched her back, pressing herself even closer to him as she neared her orgasm.

With a strangled cry, N'hoor came, her entire body tensing as the orgasm washed over her in waves. Her juices already pooling on the furs.

Urhl didn't miss a beat, continuing to suckle at her breasts even as she rode out her climax. N'hoor panted heavily, trying to catch her breath.

Finally, she pushed him away. "Enough," she managed to say between ragged breaths. "You can... take me now."

Urhl growled in approval, his eyes darkening as he looked down at N'hoor's sweaty, satisfied face. He stripped off his clothes, revealing a body that was a testament to his strength and prowess. His muscles were like chiseled stone, rippling beneath the dim light of the cave. His skin was covered in scars, each one telling a story of a battle fought and won.

N'hoor's eyes traveled down his broad chest, past his defined abs and small waist, and settled on the leaking erection between his legs. Urhl's arousal strained against his pants, almost bursting at the seams. N'hoor licked her lips in anticipation; she had missed this – missed the feel of him stretching her canal to its limits.

Urhl dropped his pants. His cock was thick and massive, even for an orc – almost black in color due to the blood rushing to it – with coarse black pubic hair surrounding it. N'hoor swallowed hard; it had been too long since she had it destroying her insides.

The air in the hut was thick with the musk of arousal as Urhl's gaze raked over N'hoor's naked form. Her body showed strength, each muscle defined and ready for the battle to come. She lay back on the furs, spreading her legs wide in blatant invitation.

Urhl positioned himself between her thighs. N'hoor reached down, her rough palms parting her own labia, revealing the slick, twitching entrance that awaited him.

Urhl's gaze was fixed on N'hoor's wet flesh, a familiar landscape for him. His calloused, strong hands, traced the folds, the pubic hair soaked in fluids, the clit, yet as he leaned in, his mind was elsewhere.

He playfully rubbed the head of his leaking cock up and down N'hoor's wet slit and then suddenly entered with a force that made her gasp, but as he moved within her, it was other face that haunted him. The orc's thrusts became more fervent, driven by a desire he could not reconcile with the reality before him.

N'hoor met his every stroke with a fervor of her own, her body arching to rub her slick, swollen labia and clit against her lover's hairy pelvis. She clawed at his back, pulling him closer, her grunts of pleasure echoing off the cave walls. Yet for all her strength, her passion, her lover wasn't responding as before.

The sex was fierce, N'hoor's vaginal canal tightening around Urhl in a vice-like grip, getting crazy as the head of his cock was almost reaching her cervix. She began to feel her orgasm building up in her pelvis, and her body released clear fluids in a signal of what was about to come. She finally convulsed and screamed her release, her body shuddering. But as Urhl reached his own climax, ejaculating deeply inside her, it was not N'hoor's ecstatic scream he heard, but the phantom whisper of certain prince's melodic voice, a siren's call that threatened to destroy him.

Spent, Urhl collapsed atop N'hoor, his breaths in ragged gasps. She held him close, her fingers gently stroking his sweat-slicked long hair, and then his ear, adorned with several gold hoop earrings.

Urhl rolled off N'hoor, his gaze fixed on the shadowed ceiling of the hut. With a growl of frustration, he pushed himself up, away from the restlessness. He wasn't satisfied.

N'hoor watched him, sensing his gloom. "You think of something, that is not me," she said, her voice a low thrum in the silent aftermath of their copulation.

Urhl had no answer to give, no justification for his absence of mind.

He stood, his body casting a long shadow, and without a word, he dressed, his movements brusque and hurried.