I scoot up on my ankle to try to pivot around so he has access to my other arm, but that has me kneeling on the step and my knees don’t like it.
I think about it for all of ten seconds. I mean, we’re naked in a hot spring together. How much worse is it to sit on his lap?
It’s definitely my best decision in a while. The relief my body feels at the contact, my bare ass against his thighs, it’s doing much more for me than the steam bath did.
If Khent is surprised by the boldness of my actions, he doesn’t voice it.
I have to keep talking or I’m going to keep thinking about what sitting in his lap means. “That’s kind of the part of the whole soul mates thing that doesn’t click with me. I’m complete all by myself, y’know? There isn’t some incomplete half of me wandering around out there that I’m waiting for.”
Khent hums, a deep rumbly sound that reverberates up through where my ass meets his thigh into my core. Maybe that’s just my imagination, or wishful thinking. He sounds contemplative, nonetheless.
“I can see how people take issue with the way a lot of people talk about it. It does make romantic love sound like the end-all, be-all,” he says after a while, his hands taking to working the oil into my other shoulder, down my arm. “But whatever language it gets couched in, or however people try to explain it, I think at the core of it all, it’s just trying to describe someone whose presence makes you happy.”
I twist around to look at him, I have to lean back against his chest just to balance myself. I think he’s massaged his way past my muscles into my...feelings? Ick.
Whoever buys into stereotypes about Orcs being all grunts and no vocab clearly never met Khent. He’s soft spoken with an insightful gravity in the way he speaks, like he’s given a lot of thought and care to what he says.
He looks at me, my head against his shoulder, and his face softens. I wonder how well he can see me without his glasses. “You don’t believe someone can make everything better, just by being there?”
The way I feel sitting in his lap, I would believe he could make my day better just by touching me. World peace would be achieved instantly if I had his cock in me.
“I don’t—” I say, the words making me aware of how deeply I’m breathing. “I don’t know.”
The way he sounds when he talks about it makes me want to believe it. I don’t think I have it in me to believe so genuinely in something as uncynical as that. But I want that kind of feeling he’s talking about. Just leaning against him makes all my worries about work and life slip away.
It’s not fair of me to want that much from Khent. I’d be taking advantage of his belief in this whole soul mates by Blood Fever thing if I just gave into it.
I shake my head, as if I could fling that thought out of my head like flinging droplets from my hair. Am I an asshole if I keep giving in to this?
I look at Khent, desperate to ask if the steam bath or the hot spring is working for him. Because I’m not convinced it’s doing anything for me. But if I ask if it’s working yet, he’s just going to think I’m so inconvenienced by our bonding.
“Is– am I feeling all this because I’m right next to you?” I ask, making a sort of vague gesture that doesn’t really illustrate my point.
Khent raises his eyebrows, a mixture of surprise and concern in his face, probably at how badly I’m expressing myself. “Sorry?”
“I don’t know how to explain that being this close to you has made everything the Blood Fever is making me feel somehow better and worse at the same time–” I catch the way Khent’s cheeks turn a darker green, flushing. “I think if I get out of your lap, my vagina is going to implode in on itself in horniness.”
“Oh,” he says. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in a situation like this before.”
A moment passes, he continues to rub my shoulders. The rest of my body might be content to melt into his massive hands, but my cunt has yet to stop upping the ante.
“Maybe you can–” he turns his head away so fully his body turns too. He seems to forget I’m in his lap and he’s taking me with him. “If you need to take care of yourself–”
He doesn’t finish the offer, like the thought is too much to suggest. Like it doesn’t merit the effort it takes to say.
I can feel his heart pounding through his chest to mine.
Wondering distantly if I care about holding him at arm’s length anymore, I slip my hand between my thighs. I bite down on my lip as I find my clit, the sensation is needed, so wanted.
The relief I felt starts to crumble into need-want-need-please again. I wiggle a little, trying to scrape back that feeling. It works for a second before it falls back into craving.
His cock stiffens and brushes past my thighs in the water, the concave tip poking out of the surface. My mouth waters a little at the sight of the twin slits within the head. I can’t take my eyes off him. It’s kind of nice to know I’m not the only one affected.
“I want you to touch me,” I beg, and I don’t have it in me to be ashamed of how desperate I sound. Masturbating in his lap with him just wanting to touch me, but can’t, is its own entirely appealing thought, but it needs to wait for an occasion when I can find a little more self-control.
Slowly, his hands draw up my thighs up my stomach to my breasts, still continuing to massage. Even though his hands are giant against me, his touch is staggeringly gentle. I want to be entirely wrapped up in this feeling. The brush of the pad of his fingertips against my nipples makes me want so much more.
I turn around, straddling him to the best of my ability. My mouth falls on his without even a thought.