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Marriage was not common among his people. It was a precious, rare thing and although Garrek already had some of his brothers tease him about not taking nearly as many mates as he should. Since, according to them, Garrek has become quite a prude.
Sure he has never been much of a skirt chaser, god knows Key'ja had given him hell when he continuously chased after her. *If one didn't count that one time out in the forest clearing when she got him on his knees to worship her-*
A grunt escaped from him as he adjusted himself. His cock twitched lazily, the coiling heat only growing inside him. Although those memories were sweet, they were nothing more than that. He had to focus. Focus on tonight, focus on the deft fingers of the elder as he painted on the ritualistic markings which nearly marred his skin. The inside of the elder's hut was shabby, full of dried herbs, pots of gods know what and a huge cauldron or some sort which was always bubbling and reeking of...something. Garrek didn't know the elder's age, but even as a child, this man looked ancient. Back then he always imagined that his pot was full of children who misbehaved. That was what his mother would often tell him. He could recall those days quite well. He fondly recalled those days.
"Mmm," Garrek merely hummed, his mind clearly elsewhere which earned a nice, firm smack from the elder who huffed.
"Where's yer head at, eh?" he muttered, shaking his head which only earned a huff from Garrek. "Yer bride's s'pposed to come tonight," the old coot mused, nodding along as he dragged his stained finger down Garrek's chest, his sharp nails digging into his skin. "She'll probably be a nice little morsel for ye," the old orc grumbled, clicking his tongue at the unamused look Garrek gave him. "Guh. You youngun's..." he shook his head as he finally stepped away from Garrek, wiping his hands into a rag.
"You talk too much, old coot," the young chief chuckled softly. The elder simply huffed, waving Garrek off.
"And ye daydream too much... Bah," he shook his head with a grunt. "bless that poor new wife of yers. She'll have her hands full with ye," he grumbled.
Garrek snorted, smirking to himself as he properly rose to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck.
"And I reckon she'll have somethin' else full with me," he grinned to himself, his crude comment earning a hearty laugh from the elder.
Garrek confidently stepped out of the hut, managing to avoid the prying eyes of his people. The only thing on his mind was his mysterious bride, you. Stolen in the middle of the night from her bed, stripped and bathed, painted with shimmering pigments. Would she be shy? Would she be afraid of him? Or perhaps would she be interested in what sorts of pleasure an orc chief such as Garrek could give her...? He licked his lips in anticipation the closer he got to his tent. It had been moved a little farther away from the village's centre, far enough so he and his bride could have the sort of privacy newlyweds deserved. A fire was burning inside his belly, his heart racing more than ever before. Before he knew it he had stopped before the flat that separated the outside world from his little sanctuary. He hesitated, unsure of himself for a mere moment, before he smirked and finally ducked inside.
Everything seemed to be in order, but then he finally laid his eyes on *her*... His little mate. His little wife.
you. And by the gods, they looked absolutely glorious. All Garrek could do was grin like a fool as he slowly approached her, more and more blood flooding into his hardening member.
"There you are, my little *wife*," he chuckled softly, a curious glint in his steely eyes.
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