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We sit on opposite couches and I relax, with a blanket over my torso, nursing the twins while we chat. My breasts are heavy and I’m happy to be able to feed them. Maybe I’ll be able to start giving them that extra milk I always pump and bottle, just in case. I express enough breast milk for these two to feed an army, that’s another reason why I feel they haven’t been thriving, because they’ve been rejecting all the extra milk I produce.
I realize I feel comfortable around this huge orc because he looks very much like his son and therefore my babies look like him too. He hands me a glass of water and makes me a turkey and cheese sandwich which is surprisingly tasty, and I gladly eat every bite.
“Is Whelan’s mother here too?” I suddenly question.
“No,” Rogan answers gruffly. “Whelan’s mother came with me to the commune after she discovered she was pregnant in order hide her pregnancy from the prying eyes of the wider world, but she left the both of us soon after she recovered from his birth. She wanted nothing to do with this lifestyle or raising an orc son. She was embarrassed of us. As far as I know she went back to her normal life, never telling anyone about me or our son.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”
“The good news is that I was lucky enough to meet a second Bride whom I love and who loves me in return. Miranda chose to live here with me. She enjoys our life on the commune.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Does Whelan have a brother?”
“Yes, my younger son, Even, is only eleven years old.”
“I’d like to meet her and your other son.”
“If you choose to stay after meeting again with Whelan, I will bring them over.”
Fair enough.
After both the boys are fed and burped, Rogan and I both stand and head with them to the nursery. He helps me change their diapers, then he places a sleepy Bran down in his crib. I place Owen in the opposite crib. Both of them are bundled and propped for sleep.
He looks down at his grandsons with love shining in his dark eyes. “Thank you for this,” he rasps.
Then he strides out of the nursery and heads for the front door of the cabin. He pauses in the dark doorway. “Whatever you do, don’t run,” Rogan tells me. “Whelan might scare you at first with his aggression, but if you run it will simply reignite his need to chase and he will instantly devolve into ancient instincts. Remain still and let him scent you. Let him bury his nose in your hair and your neck and let him get his fill. This will be your best bet for keeping him calm and reasonable. And remember, he would never hurt my grandsons. Orcs do not harm their sons, or any other orc children. It is not within our species. We have so few offspring that each orc child is treated with care and attention.”
And then the door shuts and I’m alone with the babies.
I grin and rush to the primary bedroom and click on a light, ready to snoop. There is indeed only one small hall bathroom in the cabin. This room has no attached bath or closet but there’s a dresser. I already checked out the hall bathroom earlier, placing my items alongside Whelan’s next to the sink and in the shower. This was nice. It felt right.
I’ve never in my life had a live-in boyfriend. There were a few boyfriends who were serious, but we never got to the point of moving in together or speaking of marriage.
I pull my suitcase in from the hallway and start fully unpacking. I didn’t bring a carry on—this is a big suitcase that I checked along with the double stroller. I managed to fit all my toiletries, shoes and the clothes I wear the most for fall and winter.
I open his drawers and see Whelan’s huge black underwear, his dark pajamas, plaid shirts and blue jeans. I’m unable to fit all my clothes, which means we’ll need another dresser, but I do my best, loving the sight of my small panties next to his huge underwear.
And then of course I remember the feel of his ass in my hands and the slide of his large, thick cock. Now I want him to return as soon as possible.
The need for sleep hits me hard. I have no idea how long it will take for Whelan to return but my eyelids are already drooping. This is my chance and I need to take it. I kick off my shoes and slide off my cardigan, still fully clothed in jeans and t-shirt.
Then I slip into Whelan’s comfortable bed, loving his scent.
And I fall into a deep, exhausted sleep, my head on his pillow.
Chapter 4
Whelan
The edge of the commune comes into focus.
It’s still pitch-black outside with a hint of moon shadow to light the way and only a few hours until dawn. I’m filthy and exhausted. But this state of mind is good because it’s kept me away from subjects best left untouched. Like the fact that a little over a year ago my Bride ran out of my hotel room the moment I fell asleep after fucking her hard and long, doing my best to bring her intense pleasure, and she never looked back.
Which means she took my growing seed with her—my son. And I still have no idea what my mate chose to do with my child. In fact, I may never know.
I’ve volunteered these last six months, hunting nonstop, pausing to eat and rest and then going back out. This schedule seems unsustainable, a shift no one else in their right mind would take on. But for me, it works. It also allows others to take a break from this difficult chore. The other hunters don’t mind my temporary deep dive into orc hunting.
The elders say I’ll stop soon with this self-inflicted isolation, but I see no end in sight.
I like the quiet and the solitude.
Reco
I pause and drop off the large moose carcass and the rack of fish in the walk-in freezer of the lodge. I’ve already done most of the dirty work and I leave the rest for the team to butcher the next morning. I wash up some at the basin and then march back out into the quiet dark. All the lights and fires are out.
The depression returns and hits hard as I make my way to my cabin in the farthest corner of the commune. My mind was focused on the hunt and survival instincts, but now the memories come flooding back. Because I’m about to return to an empty cabin with an empty nursery, even though I’m a male who impregnated his Bride.
I have a son out there, hopefully.
And a Bride who wants nothing to do with me. I don’t even know if she went through with the pregnancy. This is her right. But this doesn’t mean the thought of her choosing to not carry my son and moving on with her life hurts any less. Also, she might’ve indeed chosen to carry and give birth to my son and is out there, somewhere in the greater human world, raising my orc son alone. A son who needs his father in close proximity to thrive.
Both scenarios are torturous and never leave my thoughts.
I met my female, whose name I do not even know, when I left the commune for the wider human world in Maine, for the first time at thirty years old. Prior to that the farthest I’d gone was monthly grocery runs to the nearest town. This time I went to Bangor, alone.
I'm the wildest-looking orc on the commune. Taller than the average orc, my horns sharper, and my tusks longer. I’ve been told by humans that my features are “scary.” If I move an arm to point at something on a shelf, humans squeal and move out of the way, assuming I’m about to hit them. It is nonsensical. Therefore, I normally choose to stay amongst my kind, begi