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💙 Elf and Orc in the Ancient City 💚
🕑 Added 2025-10-17 18:00:05 +0000 UTCIn the old elven city, where the cracked stone streets carried the weight of millennia, a young elf walked slowly. His name was Aelion. Delicate, slender, with long blond hair, he wore a soft blue dress that swayed lightly in the wind. The day was bright and warm, and the city seemed almost deserted.
Aelion admired the arches of the ancient buildings when a heavy silhouette caught his eye. Between the columns of an old temple stood an orc. Broad-shouldered, massive, his green skin stark against the pale stone. But what drew Aelion’s gaze most was the orc’s obvious arousal, boldly displayed, already hard and waiting.
Aelion froze, his heart skipping. He hadn’t expected such a sight in the sacred quiet of his city. The orc’s eyes locked onto him—dark, burning, and commanding. Without a word, his lips curved into a challenging smirk. The elf felt his knees weaken, his breath uneven.
Step by step, as if pulled by unseen threads, Aelion moved closer. His blue dress shifted, revealing slender legs. He stood before the orc, gaze drifting downward. The sheer size of the heavy shape both frightened and fascinated him.
Shyly, Aelion sank to his knees on the stone pavement. He looked up— the orc gave a small nod, urging him on. The elf reached out with trembling fingers, brushing along the heated skin. The pulsing warmth made him shiver.
Leaning in, Aelion pressed a tentative kiss against the tip. His tongue flicked lightly, tasting the salty heat. At first, he only licked hesitantly, as though testing, but soon his motions grew bolder. His tongue circled, lingering at sensitive spots, before he dared to take him into his mouth.
A low growl escaped the orc’s throat as his large hand rested on Aelion’s head. Closing his eyes, the elf let the thick hardness slide deeper between his lips. His mouth welcomed it, his tongue tracing along the underside, coaxing more reactions. Each muffled sound above him, each tug of hair, guided his rhythm.
Soon, Aelion moved faster, lips embracing him with growing confidence, saliva gleaming as it spilled down his chin. His hand stroked the base, while his mouth worked eagerly over the rest. The orc’s breath grew heavier, his hips pressing forward, using the elf’s lips without hesitation. Aelion moaned softly around him, surrendering to the act.
Suddenly, the orc pulled back, withdrawing from his mouth. Before Aelion could react, strong arms lifted him effortlessly and laid him onto the stone ground. The elf’s blue dress slid up, baring his lithe frame. He gasped, nervous yet expectant.
The orc spread his legs apart firmly, positioning himself. Aelion felt the broad tip pressing at his entrance, and before he could prepare, the orc pushed inside.
A sharp cry escaped the elf—pain and pleasure mixed as he was stretched wide, completely filled. At first, the movements were slow, probing, but quickly grew harder. Each thrust drove deeper, shaking his body against the cold stones.
Aelion’s fingers clawed at the pavement, his voice breaking into moans as his back arched. His golden hair spilled across the ground, framing his flushed face. The orc’s grip on his waist tightened, pulling him up, forcing him to take each motion. The rhythm built faster, heavier, the sound of bodies colliding echoing between the ancient walls.
Every push sent waves of sensation through Aelion’s body. His cries grew louder, breathless, until he couldn’t tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began. The orc moved with relentless hunger, his growls mixing with the elf’s gasps. Their eyes met briefly: Aelion’s glazed with desire, the orc’s demanding and fierce.
Then, without warning, the orc pressed deep and held him down. A guttural growl burst out as a heated rush spilled inside Aelion’s body. The elf’s eyes widened in surprise—he hadn’t expected it so sudden. The warmth filled him completely, pulsing with each final movement.
The orc kept him pinned, forcing the last of his essence into him before finally pulling back. Aelion felt the warmth slip out, trickling down his thighs and staining the edge of his blue dress.
Breathless, he lay still, a little confused at first, but as the aftershocks trembled through him, a soft smile curved his lips. The suddenness, the rawness, had unsettled him—yet deep down, he realized he liked it. The silence of the old city returned, carrying with it the secret heat of their encounter.
Comments
Sviatoslav Nykyforchyn
☺️
Sugarman
👀🌹
Sviatoslav Nykyforchyn
Thanks ☺️
davide
very detalied and nicely done, story before sex.. still shoes when fucking ..great job, even though I'm not a fan of elf ears 😁 👍
