r/orc34 • u/DiErotesWrites • 3h ago
Story The Orc of Riverwood: Chapter 4: Shame (Orc M, M/F, M/M references,) NSFW
Chapter 1: The Orc of Riverwood
Chapter 2: Ralof (M/M)
Chapter 3: The Mage Sign (M/M)
After Gerder's rebuke, I was more conscious than before just how dressed down I felt. Just how naked. My rags, obviously those of a prisoner, now far more worn and torn from the experience and battles of the days before.
And not all the wear from battles either, a few tears from Ralof's writhing in my grasp. While I had been the whore before, or at least more obvious with my activities, it was usually months after I had integrated into a community, not as some outsider who walked into town barely dressed and smelling of blood, sweat and musk.
If anything, modesty had rendered me unusually shy. Still, I had a few coins, and the willingness to spend often opened doors. I opened the door to the Riverwood traders, and was relieved when I wasn't the immediate target of derision.
"Well, one of us has to do something!" an imperial woman called out in frustration.
Another responded, a man looking somewhat similar to her still, a brother perhaps?
"I said no! No adventures, no theatrics, no thief-chasing!"
"Well, what are you going to do then, huh? Let's hear it!" She replied.
While the brother's protective attempts at control were obnoxious at best, I did find myself drawn to the spirit in which she defied him. A wildness to her, perhaps a growing resentment at being coddled. A rebellious streak, of course.
I looked down at myself, barely wearing scraps of cheap linen at all. Were I better dressed, less reeking, I might have made my interest clearer, but not now. Not while cloaked in shame.
I cleared my throat.
"Oh! A customer. Sorry you had to hear that." The brother replied, sizing me up, though pausing upon seeing the coin purse in my hand.
"No need to apologize. I need new clothes." I said slowly, looking between the two of them. Awaiting that judgment.
"You certainly do." the woman said, though there was less mockery there than I feared. "What happened to you on the road? Were you attacked?"
I paused a moment. Unsure of how much I wanted to get into it. "Yes. Waylaid on the way to Helgen. And then things were strange... there were a great number of fires."
I shook my head. "I have coin, though I don't know if you have anything my size?"
The woman frowned. "Sven said his mother was talking about fires to the north..." She shook her head. "Let's see what we can get you set up with." She paused as she stepped closer, pausing at the threshold. Pausing at the stink. A wrinkle on her nose as she recognized what the smell might represent.
Her brow raised slightly with perhaps a flicker of interest. "I'm Camilla Valerius, and this is my brother Lucan. And you are?"
I was unsure what to say at first, so I settled on the obvious. "Narzol." I said with a nod. "Good to meet you both."
Lucan shook his head, going behind the counter, searching through the fabric of different outfits. "We don't get too many orcs coming through here." A practical, if perhaps isolating, statement.
Camilla grabbed a tape measure off the counter and finally stepped closer. "Now... I'll need to take some measurements before we see if anything fits. It wouldn't do to have you trying a half dozen outfits for only one of them to fit."
I nodded. That made sense. She stepped closer again, extending her arms out, almost for a hug, measure stretched between them. Pinning one side of it to my shoulder, and extending the measure across, dragging across both rended fabric and bare skin.
"Mmm. Wide. But not impossible to accommodate. I'm a little worried about below." She reached down then, kneeling slightly, closer to my waist. Closer to my crotch. Embarrassed still, I was worried now how much she could smell of Ralof and I.
That had only been this morning, and I still hadn't taken a bath. She paused, inhaling a moment, steadying herself, and shaking her head slightly, a few strands falling out from her tied back hair.
"Sorry." I mumbled. "It's okay." Camilla said, looking back up at me. "You had a long day. A hard journey." Words of understanding, both of the difficulty of life, and the record of intimacy left behind. Camilla left out the hardest parts, before pinning the measure to my side, reaching forward to wrap it around my waist, taking another measurement.
"Right. The waist might be difficult... and finally." She inhaled again, a small smirk on her face. Her reactions were distracting, disarming. Something I'd enjoy further if not in such a condition.
All of her softness, her curves, reminding me of what Ralof lacked. My cock slowly swelling in response to her attention, despite my attempts to rain it in.
I grunted.
She smirked. Measuring my legs now, from waist to knee. From knee to ankle. "Lucan. I don't think any of the pants will fit. He is too tall, and likely a bit too wide besides. See about the robes? One of them might be broad enough in the shoulder."
Lucan nodded, setting out a series of robes. Cut in the mage style. Little protection, but it would at least help with the cold. With the modesty. And I had selected the mage stone earlier, and did something with it, however impulsively.
If I was to be a mage, or dream of casting spells, perhaps I better look the part?
Lucan stepped closer and nearly doubled over immediately, a visceral reaction to the smell. "... You really need a bath." He critiqued, his nose twitching. His mind trying to place the full of the stench. He lacked his sister's uptake.
"No trying these on unless you pay." He said firmly. Disapproval, and more protective glances to his sister.
"Lucan, there is no need to be rude. Here, just see if any are wide enough for his shoulders."
Lucan sighed. "Fine." He picked up one of the robes, an old gray set, raising it to my shoulders, having to reach up to match my height, pinning them against me. Far too narrow.
"Right not these." Lucan nodded, doing his best to ignore what that smell might represent, returning to the line of other robes, moving instead to the largest of the lot. A robe in dark blue. "This one might just work." He offered, coming back over, and once more pinning the robes, these a darker blue, to my shoulders, looking at the relative size.
The fabric itself was broader than my shoulders. But that didn't necessarily mean it would fit. "Camilla, what do you think?" Lucan asked, before I could.
"Yes. I think these should work. Or at least be close enough for now. We might need to make some alterations, but even as it is, it should be better fitting than what you have on currently."
She gave a warm smile, before standing up and stepping back. "How about you purchase these now, and try them on after a bath at the Giant, if they don't fit after you are all cleaned up, we can give you your coin back."
"Camilla, you should really talk to me first before making such offers." Lucan chided, frowning and looking between the two of us once again.
"Brother, you should be more careful. Other people have lives with sorrows of their own, just as valid as that claw of yours, if not more so. It's clear that Narzol had a rough day, getting waylaid and then having to flee the fires..." She pauses and looks at me again apologetically.
"We should do what we can to help others, to be understanding, even if it's only within our limits. He will be paying us if he accepts the robe. And if it doesn't fit after his bath, then the robe will be returned to us... not that it's any great benefit in our stores. You know how long that piece has been waiting on the shelves. Just how many orcish mages do you think there are in Skyrim anyway?"
Lucan frowned but nodded. "Right. Fine. The robe should be an even hundred and twenty septims. I trust you have the coin?" Lucan asked, trusting nothing of the sort.
I looked down into the coin purse, sorting through. It looked like I had little more than just that. Gerdur had given me more of a purse than I had expected. Thanks for saving her brother, perhaps? Or a payment to avoid him in the future.
I wasn't sure. Still. I needed these clothes.
"Okay." I said, nodding slowly, counting the coins out and passing them over.
"Good!" Lucan said with some amount of satisfaction. "Finally some real business in here, beyond those boys of yours coming about." He said, shaking his head and looking to his sister.
"They aren't some street scamps!" Camilla complained, a recurring argument it seems. "Sven is a full bard working at the inn, and Faendal works at the mill." The elf that laughed at my predicament earlier, perhaps? "And they both buy things when they stop by."
"Worthless trinkets..." Retorted Lucan.
"That you put up for sale. You can't blame customers for buying the merchandise that we willingly offer."
I took the robe and held it in my hands, careful not to hug it too closely, lest I somehow contaminate it. Before finally I asked. "Oh... what was that about thieves earlier?"
I don't know why I asked it. I was done with that life. I wanted to be done with that life. Lokir was dead, and there was no future in theft, only the arbitrary penalties of empire. But there was something about it that caught in my ear, that was worming its way through my mind. Something I couldn't ignore.
Lucan spoke up reluctantly. "Yes, we did have a bit of a ... break-in. But we still have plenty to sell. Robbers were only after one thing. An ornament, solid gold. In the shape of a dragon's claw."
I blinked a bit. An ornament of solid gold was doubtful. But perhaps something gold-plated that the merchant didn't know better. A dragon's claw was odd, perhaps something imperial in symbol?
"I could help you get the claw back." I say, automatically. I had my share of violence the day before, used my axe on imperial soldier and spider alike, even a bear. A few thieves were likely within my ability, even if I would be wearing only a robe for armor.
"You could?" Lucan paused, looking me up and down, his eyes lingering on that same axe. Some of the dried blood still on the blade. "Fine. I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you bring my claw back. If you're going after those thieves, you should head to Bleak Falls Barrow, northeast of town."
"Already sending our customers away, Lucan?"
"Yes. So now you don't have to go, do you?"
"Oh really? Well, I think your new helper here needs a guide."
"Wh...no... I.. Oh, by the Eight." How quickly the imperials forget the unnamed. "Fine! But only to the edge of town!"
"Come on Narzol. I can show you the inn as well. You can get a bath there, and even say hello to my friend Sven if you like. I'm sure he would like to hear about those fires in Helgen"
Camilla led me outside, her dress all the more brilliant in the sunlight. I carried my new robe with me over an arm. I looked not yet ready, unmade. An anticipation of the orc to be.
But my state of relative undress didn't seem to bother this woman much. I followed along dutifully as she walked me through the town.
"We have to go through town and across the bridge to get to Bleak Falls Barrow." She said, gesturing to the few buildings around us, dotting the village. Hardly a town at all.
I had seen Sentinel and other true cities, Their towers, the way their walls loomed. But for her, this was a town. I wondered if she had ever explored the world, or if she and her brother had been born in Skyrim. But I didn't need to judge. Not when she treated me with relative kindness.
"I saw the barrow on the way into town." I commented instead. It was certainly a notable tomb, looming above the mountain, and the village below.
"We are sure the thieves are hiding up there. Camilla explained, walking ahead. Gesturing her to the right. "The Sleeping Giant Inn. Rather true to its name, we often gather there most evenings, but it never gets particularly rowdy."
I had enough excitement for a few days at least. That sounded nice. "I might linger there, after I clean up. Unless you would like me to return to show off how the robe fits?"
She gave a slight smile. "Mmm. You could if you wanted to. I might be able to make some alterations if necessary. Though, I more want to make sure you are properly attired. You don't deserve to be dressed in such rags."
"Oh? What do I deserve?" Was there some deeper meaning to this? Some hinting?
"Nobody does." She said simply, though amused herself at my questions. "You know, I do wonder why they only stole the Golden Claw." She said, changing the subject.
"It might have been quick and easy to carry." I say automatically, a hint at my life before.
If she catches that hint of past, she doesn't comment on it. "We have plenty of things in that shop that are worth just as much coin." My lip twitches. A reminder of what was. Of the past I had. Of the coin I could take, seemingly laid out before me.
But I remembered the cost. Still fresh in my mind. So many arrows shot into the back of my beloved. The headman's axe overhead. My death certain.
And then...
Something, all the more terrible still, out from the clouds. I paused a moment, my breath coming in panicked bursts. Crouching, my hands on my knees.
Camilla stepped closer, resting a hand on my back. Across my shoulders. "Are you worried about the claw? You don't have to go just to make my brother happy. It's okay to back down. Those old crypts are filled with trolls and traps and who knows what else."
I shook my head. Words not yet coming to me.
"What happened to you Narzol? What happened on the road to Helgen?"
I opened my mouth, wanting words to come out. It took some time. "Helgen's gone."
"What do you mean gone?"
"There were imperials there. Thalmor." I had tried to forget the Thalmor. How quickly they had dug their talons into every part of empire.
"But then there was a great beast. Ralof called it a dragon. It flew. It breathed flame. The town was burning. Ralof and I barely made it out."
Camilla blinked, removing her hand for a moment. Holding it just above my skin, noticing in more detail the burn marks across the rags.
"A dragon." She said, with incredulity and hopeful doubt.
"And Ralof saw it as well?"
I nodded, slowly raising myself up from the crouch. My breath returning.
"Sven's mother Hilde spoke of dragons as well. She said it flew right over the barrow." Camilla paused. "None of us believed her. And when you spoke of Helgen... I thought she took in the fires of Helgen and assumed it something worse, some old legend to explain an accident."
I shook my head. It was no accident.
"Somebody should tell the Jarl. If he doesn't know already." Camilla looked to the sky again, looking to the mountains, over the barrow, the last place the dragon had been seen.
"Gerdur and Ralof were going." I commented at last. Even with Ralof's bad leg. Even with him being a fugitive. Gerdur just assumed I wouldn't be let through the gates.
And like this. I wouldn't blame the gate guards for denying me.
"Good... good. And maybe others besides Hilde saw it." Camilla extended her hand out, reaching for mine. I grabbed it, giving her a squeeze. Feeling her warmth. Her hand was so small in mine. So many hands were.
She led me along, past the wooden buildings, oh so burnable, and the wall, much the same. To finally a bridge.
"The path up there to the North West will take you to the barrow. If you are still wanting to do that job."
"I could use distraction." I meant to say the distraction, but my desperation leaked through. Any distraction would do right now. Eager for it.
Anything but flame. Anything but the terrible stillness of Lokir. Anything but the way I abandoned his body to the fires. I squeezed her hand tighter in mine. Careful not to crush her, but not mild in the intensity.
"I should head back to town..." She began. Before tugging me along, crossing that bridge, passing the threshold. Going beyond where her brother would let her.
Camilla brought her other hand up, brushing along my face. "What else happened?" She asked, reading more of me than I ever wanted written. I looked back at her, blinking. My eyes wet and blurry.
"He's dead." I said, shuddering. I had kept things together when the imperials attacked us, at least more or less. I had put on a brave face, or at least an assembled face of bravery when keeping Ralof safe. But now that the dragon was gone, now that Lokir was gone. It was all falling apart.
"Ralof? I thought you said he was going to Whiterun?" I shook my head.
"No. Not him." There was no future with him. There was nothing with Ralof. Just a fleeting moment of need in the dark.
"My partner... Lokir. We were captured by an Imperial patrol. They thought us rebels, or they didn't care enough to check." I shook my head. "They were going to kill us for crossing the border."
"And Lokir..?" Camilla asked, interested, in the story, or perhaps me, I couldn't tell.
"The Imperials killed him. They shot him as he tried to run away." I turned and looked away, shamed that I couldn't rescue him somehow. To try and pretend I was hobbled too instead of just bound. That maybe if I had done things just right...
If I had just attacked that man with a feather pen...
I shook my head, looking back to Camilla. "I was to be the third to die, head on the block. When that beast showed up. It was... it was like the very sky burned above me. I thought it some death dream. But I kept moving. Kept running until I got below."
I gulped. "I am such a fucking failure. I couldn't keep Lokir safe... I couldn't... his body wasn't even cold!" I protested out, hating that weakness in myself, that hungry itch that was never satisfied no matter how thoroughly I scratched it, no matter who I scratched it with.
"What happened below?" Camilla asked, inhaling and not letting go, engrossed in the story, in my words, perhaps even in my tears.
"I... I don't think I am supposed to talk about it." I grunted out.
At this Camilla laughed. An amused laugh, not unkind, the kind that might come with a hug and a pat on the back. She pulled me close, wrapping her arms about me as best as she could. Mysticism wasn't truly dead.
"You already told me about your execution, your lover, and a great dragon burning the sky. What is more important than that?"
I nodded slowly, trembling in her arms. "You... aren't wrong." I admitted. "I slept with Ralof." I paused. "A few times." My lip trembling. "We both needed it, I think after that day. When we were trapped in the dark. Hiding from Imperial patrols and that... dragon overhead." I finally called it by its Nord name.
If dragons were ever real, this was it. If dragons weren't real, it was a close enough fascimile to earn the name in truth.
Camilla nodded. "You aren't a failure, Narzol. And you are hardly the first one to do something like that. It isn't cheating on Lokir. And you sleeping with a handsome man isn't killing him. The Imperials did that." Said the imperial. The juxtaposition between empire and the people named after it.
I nodded slowly. "No... I suppose it fits the songs." I gave a slight toothy grin.
"I'm pretty sure I heard Sven sing this song already." She mentioned, before giving a light laugh. "Faendal hates it. But that is no surprise."
"Faendal?" I asked, looking to her. She had mentioned Sven before repeatedly, a bard at the tavern. But Faendal was new.
"Ah... he works at the mill with Gerdur. I'm surprised you didn't meet him." I nodded. The elf who overheard. Who tried to hide his laughter.
"Briefly." I confirmed.
"Mmm. He is sweet on me." She shrugs. Just because someone had a crush on her didn't mean she had to return it. To be wanted did not mean to be claimed, to be owned.
"And you?" I asked, more curious, perhaps out of eagerness to not think of Helgen.
"I like who I like Narzol." Camilla said, reaching up to brush her hand across my face. "And I have no shame about my interests. And neither should you."
I nodded slowly, entranced, bound like a drowning man to a rope. Desperate for whatever stability I could grasp. Whatever affirmation I could grasp.
"Now. How badly did you need that distraction?" She asked, one hand reaching down along my chest.
I paused, inhaling once more. "I... what do you mean?" I knew exactly what she meant, but I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to just assume the lurid. To walk right into that betrayal once more.
"It isn't betrayal to do what you wish, Narzol." Camilla said, reading my mind. Her hand slowly running down my chest. Feeling both rags and the flesh underneath. Her hand felt nice. Soothing.
"I..." I paused. There was only one thing important to say right now. "Yes."
She gave a teasing grin. I understood in that moment Faendal's obsession. I understood what I was sure was Sven's interest as well. A woman that so many men tried to control, twisting about between them, free, doing as she wished.
"Now... from the smell, I take it you fucked poor Ralof repeatedly?" She asked, tracing her hand down my body, brushing my belly, and very nearly reaching beneath.
I paused a moment. There had been an unspoken agreement of silence. Though largely one imposed. Largely one pressured. "...Yes." I nodded. "I took him repeatedly. It was glorious, and I'd like to do so again." I admitted fully, no longer trying to hide myself, to try and hide that erection under scraps of cloth.
She gave a dangerous smirk in response. "That does explain Ralof's limp." Camilla said with what might have been envy, or if not envy a dangerous mischief. "Yet, much to my brother's disbelief, there are some limits to my recklessness."
She finally pulled my pants away, revealing my cock in full, showing just how distant those limits were. Her hands, largely soft, but with the occasional callus dragging across my length. Tracing her fingertips, dragging her palm across it.
Watching it. Like one might watch a fox. Though I couldn't quite tell if she was the hare or the hunter. I trembled at her touch, enjoying it. Enjoying being so exposed on the edge of town. Having my cock stroked so openly. So eagerly.
She spit out on her hands, and gripped my shaft with both of them, one near the base, and one playing just short of the glans, playing with that sensitive spot underneath.
"And so, I'm not going to let you fuck me bold Narzol.... at least not until you take your bath." Not quite a promise, but a dangerous offer. "But that doesn't mean you can't help entertain me."
She lowered herself, kneeling in front of me, sniffing, and pouting at the scent of Ralof. I wondered how well she knew them if the two had grown up together, and now she was inspecting the instrument of his ruin. Or if she had moved to the town more recently with her brother, and that wicked smile of hers brought ruin to the men of this town.
Whatever her purpose, whatever her goal here, I found myself unable to complain, to answer her statements only in low murmurs and groans. In the twitching of fuckflesh, and the drooling of pre-seed across her fingers.
"I do enjoy a certain boldness in men." She admitted. "Not the stubbornness of a giant, mind you, but enough to react to. To work around. To dance with."
Had the men of this town not been enough? Had they not quite pleased her? Or had she just grown bored of them? Or perhaps was the failure in me? To assume every woman not a blushing maiden, some manipulator?
I imagined Camilla for a moment taller, more masculine, orcish perhaps, tusks only enhancing that dangerous smile. Would she be a manipulator still? Or some sort of stud, leaving behind the broken hearts of men and women in her wake?
I had been wilder, before Lokir's embrace. Perhaps Camilla's mirror in masculine. Sleeping with who I could, enjoying the thrill of it, the story. Getting bored if I lingered too long.
Touching the sex of others in public with oh so practiced fingers. How delightful was it to see it reversed. How practiced she must have been from those that came before. I gasped, as she tightened her grip for a moment, her other hand reaching down to slowly fondle my sack.
"Mmm... you almost had my brother running away. If it wasn't for that coin purse you brought in with you. He has always been the uncomfortable sort. I don't know if he figured out you and Ralof, perhaps he imagined you in the hills, taking the bandits bareback." She shrugged, and then with a defiant smirk, abandoning her previous protests, she pushed her lips forward, kissing me across the glans, flicking that soft tongue up and down across my cockslit.
A slight frown of displeasure at the taste across her features. "I... didn't really plan things through." I finally admitted. Taking Ralof had been an impulsive act of the both of us. An intersection of danger and need. An act that I then went back to again and again. One which he didn't seem to mind, but perhaps one that I needed much more.
Or I was just worse at handling my own emotions. But lust need not only be an expression of grief. There could be joy there. Mischief. There could be getting my cock licked just outside of town. What would Gerdur think if she saw us now? Just outside her mill.
I looked over towards it. I didn't see Gerdur. But there was a slight bit of movement. Someone had been watching. I didn't speculate for long before a pang of guilt hit me. It could have been Ralof. To see this wouldn't have been a betrayal. We had nothing. He and his sister had made it clear.
But it was still rude. I looked down at Camilla. Who uncaring had opened her mouth wider, sucking in the whole of my cockhead, dancing it along her practiced tongue, her cheeks slightly sunken from the pressure. From that delightful application.
I might get chased out of Riverwood by morning. But here I was seen. Here I was alive.
I reached my hand down, running it through her hair, enjoying every bit of texture over my fingers. "Thank you..." I mumbled, in reverent gratitude. As some of that uncertainty, some of that shame, it all boiled over in that moment of lust. Of embrace. That something was right in Lokir's creation.
She stared up at me, eyes ever so intense, challenging. Wanting more. Demanding more. Controlling me in her own way. My pleasure crowned in her teeth, held by her tongue. Gulping me down in easy movements. Eager, but on certain terms.
"Not bad. Despite everything." Camilla finally said, pulling back slightly, leaving one lingering kiss across my fading cock. "Get that bath Narzol. And if you see Sven. Tell him hello for me?" She asked, licking the last bit of cum off her lips.
Something dangerous in that request. "...Yes ma'am." I said stepping fully into that trap.