Summary of this Story:

I led the march from Fort Bragg with Commander Harlan and Chief Jack at my sides. King Wyatt sent us off, his voice booming over knights on thoroughbreds like my Shimmer and orcs on razorback hogs, all bound for Devil’s Gap to smash the Ragorn lines. Tensions simmered between humans and orcs, egos clashing like Harlan’s disdain meeting Jack’s grin, but Uncle Lucas joined with his grizzly banner knights, melting ice alongside Countess Marcy and Count Derek. Weeks of hard travel wore me down, rocks biting my ass on stools, diesel fumes thick in camp. Anger lingered from Jack’s teasing halt that night back home. Finally, at the border camp, I pulled him into my tent. “Just a little,” I whispered. His lips met mine, Budweiser breath hot, hands roaming belts until dawn tightened our alliance.

Here is your Story: I Kissed the Orc Chief and Let Him Fuck Me in the Tent

Chapter Five: Just a Little

The air hung thick with diesel fumes and horse shit. Knights sat their mounts. Orcs straddled razorback hogs. A few supply trucks rumbled behind. Every orc looked ready for whatever came next. Most knights didn’t share the mood.

Lana ran her fingers through Shimmer’s long white mane. Thoroughbred mare. Folks bred them up in the Rockies. Cost a fortune. Smart beasts. Lived forever. Ran like the wind. Shimmer had stuck by the princess since she could toddle.

A small crowd watched from the fort grounds. No grand parade. No time for that. Just the staff. No ride through town either. Straight out the side gate.

Knights faced the fort. Some hog riders did too, out of respect. King Wyatt stood high on the balcony. Orc woman at his side. Looked a lot like Chief Jack. He raised his hand.

Send-Off from Fort Bragg

“My knights.” He turned to the orcs. “My friends.” Eyes swept both groups. “I’d join you if I could. But a king stays put. Leads his kingdom. Here with me, to handle the orcs we leave behind, stands Kira. Chief Jack’s sister.”

That explained the family look. Didn’t shock Lana. Jack acted right at home around women. Maybe too much. Anger still simmered from last night. Hard to say if she mad he started. Or mad he quit. Her chest tightened either way.

“In my stead, my daughter Lana leads this push. With trusted advisor Gil Harlan. And great Chief Jack beside her.” Pause. Eyes on his men. “I know every face here. Fought with most. Know what you can do. You’ll win. Question is, by how much? You gonna let Ragorn bastards step one foot on our dirt?”

“NO MI’LORD!” Knights bellowed.

“Then quit waiting! Crush their lines! Splinter shields! Snap spears! Watch ’em break against our new alliance!”

Cheers exploded. Yells too. Horses neighed. Hogs grunted. Not the hottest speech. King threw it together overnight. But Twilight King says win? You win.

Commander Harlan trotted up. Tapped Lana’s shoulder. Nodded. “Steady pace. Slow for the trucks.”

Lana gripped the reins. Sucked in one last breath of pine sap and grill smoke. Hardly ever left the fort. All new. Thrilling. Scary too. She patted Shimmer’s neck. “Let’s go, girl. We lead.”

Whinny. Trot. She checked the line behind. Commander Harlan pulled to her left. Chief Jack to her right. Her guards. She flicked a look at the orc. He caught it. Eyebrow up. She snapped eyes to the knight.

“This gait. Time to border?”

He eyed the road. Unrolled the map from his gauntlet. “Make it if Gritrock scouts hold true.”

Jack grinned. “Got ways to keep intel fresh. Why my tribe runs the hills.”

Two men locked stares. Disdain mixed with respect. Strange brew.

“S-so. Under two weeks? Allies?”

Allies on the Road West

“Brethren meet at Devil’s Gap. Bridge my folk built ages back. Only crossing. Border lords join en route. Last one’s Count Derek.”

“Derek, eh?” Jack cut in. “Tough bastard. His knights held off bad tribes for years. Human I rate.” Wink at the commander. Who sighed. Fixed on the road.

Regret hit Lana. Not the fight. Leading it. Big egos to wrangle.

She glanced back. Two favorite knights flirted a few rows down. Pout. Stroke for Shimmer. Adventure turning chore.

First day ended in bickering. Days blurred. Ranchers scattered at razorback sight. Young knights would’ve too, sans orc reins.

Week in, first ally. Not human lord. Jack’s scout. Ragorn army update. On track. But bigger than thought. Fuzzy details. Command kept it quiet.

Camp outside the walled town. Its lord rode out. One of four messengered.

“How’s my niece?”

Lana bolted from her camp chair. Ran to the bear of a man. Arms wide. “Uncle Lucas!”

Hug. Man as big as some orc women. He squeezed. Pushed back gentle. Sigh. “Too much like your ma. How’d you talk your dad into this?”

“You joining, uncle?”

“Hah! Miss the fun? No chance!” Pat on back. Spun her to the fire circle. Command sat eating. Orc woman too, face in her plate.

Duke Lucas planted hands on hips. “War maidens all round, eh?”

Jack nudged her. “Whut?”

Chief grinned. “Culture’s different, uh…”

Duke gasped mock. “Manners! Duke Lucas Harlan. Lana’s uncle. Ma’s side.” Rough bow. Harlans skipped fancy stuff.

Jack rose full height. Lucas to his neck. Duke blinked. Laughed. “Never seen orc just stand. Usually swinging. Damn, you’re huge.”

Jack scratched chin. “Thanks? Jack. Gritrock chief.”

Hearty laugh. Slap to back lurched the orc. “Pleasure, Jack! Sit. Feast. Fight!”

Plopped between orcs. Natural fit. Lana smiled. Uncle melted strangers fast. Even foes.

Journey wore. Missed home cushions. Rocks bit her ass. Food no chef touch. Big butt no help on stools. Wondered what good it did.

Lucas’s knights joined. Banner high. Dark blue, green. Royal Grizzly sigil. House-sized beasts, rumors said. Uncle bagged one solo. For kicks.

Night rolled as expected. Orcs warmed to the giant. Perfect human-orc link. Dad should’ve fetched him first.

Next day, bad news. One lord out. Beast plague north. Duty called.

Second-last showed days later. Pre-border. Countess Marcy. Duelist sharp. Took title young. Parents gone. Green but her sword arm gold.

Border edge. One day from Gritrock land, bridge. Last ally. Count Derek. The Bastion. Near dad’s fame. Sword fierce. Loyalty fiercer. Black cape flowed. Knelt.

“You honor us, Princess.”

Handful meetings. Good man. “Rise, Lord Derek. Sorry instead. Your knights need rest. Months on border.”

Stoic rise. “Eager to fight. King’s rest order alone stopped us.”

“Julio! Loosen up. War time. Fun!” Lucas grabbed arms.

Swat. “Royalty present, Duke. Compose.”

Large man clapped Count’s arm. “No issue with orc grog back then, Derek.” Jack grinned.

Commander Harlan strolled up. “All here. Strategy time.” To troops. “Last rest before push. Camp. Commanders, tent.”

Forces scattered. Lana grabbed Jack’s arm mid-order. Worry gnawed weeks. Or hunger. He turned. Soft smile creased cheeks.

“What, Princess?”

“Need to talk. Private.” Whisper. Lean in.

His chest jumped. Guessed the topic. Didn’t dull the spark. Followed to tent rear. Watched thumbs twist. Cheeks pink.

“Well?” Cheeky grin.

“Past weeks. No moves. No kiss try. Why?”

Hand cupped face. Eyes forced up. “Told you. You gotta want it. Say it.”

Fidget. Wrong time. But ache built. Waited too long. Little bit safe.

“Then. Just a little. Kiss me. Please.” Eyes up. Waiting.

“Can’t say no.” Pull close. Lips met. Granted her wish. The canvas flap slapped shut behind them, muffling the crackle of the fire pit outside where Uncle Lucas’s grizzly banner drooped against a pine trunk slick with sap. Jack’s callused thumb brushed her jaw as he pulled back an inch, breath hot with Budweiser from dinner. She gripped his leather vest, the zipper teeth biting her palm. No more waiting. Forces mustered at dawn, Ragorn lines three days out. But tonight, under the tent’s dim lantern glow bouncing off Shimmer’s saddlebags stacked in the corner, that kiss stretched into hands roaming belt buckles and the low grunt of a zipper giving way. By morning, egos settled, alliance forged tighter than steel rebar. Shimmer nickered once from her picket line, tossing her head against the chill wind off Devil’s Gap.