Linza awoke to the sound of the neighborhood clock tower chiming and to the warmth of Grun’s arms around her. She snuggled into Grun, and then realized that if the clock was already chiming, she was already going to be late for work.

“Shit!” She jolted up.

“That’s not regret I hear, is it?” Grun teased. He seemed to have already been awake.

Linza stilled for a moment. She leaned over and kissed Grun’s cheek. “Not at all. I’m just going to be late!”

She scrambled out from under the covers but his hand found her waist.

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Grun said. He ran his fingers up over her breast and then down her waist again and to her ass, humming with appreciation. “Why don’t you let me send you off properly? Give you a little breakfast?”

“That is very tempting,” Linza said, and she meant it, “But I really can’t.” She wiggled out from under his hand and rolled out of bed, taking the half step over to her wardrobe and rummaging around for a suitable outfit. She’d have to get ready in record time.

Her plans crashed headlong into a brick wall at a singular, captivating sound.

Grun’s indulgent, luxuriant moan.

Linza spun.

Grun had shrugged the cover down to his thighs and he was lying with one hand behind his head and the other stroking his cock, his eyes fluttering towards the ceiling in abject bliss. He was still naked, his wavy hair splayed out on the pillow, the muscles of his chest and abdomen rippling in time with his stroking.

“What are you doing?” Linza hissed.

Grun lifted the hand from behind his head to wave her on. “You go on, I can… nnnngh… take care of this…”

Linza turned reluctantly back to her wardrobe, but couldn’t manage anything beyond staring blankly at it. And then a rivulet of moisture ran down her inner thigh, the remnants of Grun’s ample deposit.

Grun moaned again.

She turned a skeptical eye towards him to see if he was playing it up on purpose. But he didn’t seem to be. It just… felt that good.

Linza’s mouth watered and she put her hands on her hips. “Well, I can’t leave with you like this!”

Grun stirred from his reverie and looked towards her. “Oh yeah? Why not?”

She bit her lip and despite her best effort, her eyes drifted to his cock.

Grun smiled. “This isn’t getting you all—ngh—hot and bothered, is it?”

“No, of course not!” Linza huffed. She didn’t know why she was being contrary, other than that if she wasn’t, she really wouldn’t make it to work. 

“Then why can’t you leave?” Grun teased.

“Because… because, well, I can’t leave you here, I have to lock up.” It was true enough.

“Hm, that seems fair. You’d better come hurry me along then, huh? Otherwise these things just… nnnnngh…” This time he was being dramatic on purpose as he took a long, slow stroke. “… they just take time.”

Linza crossed her arms. It was not Grun she was fighting at this point, so much as the realization that her sense of responsibility was really going to lose to her horniness. “Oh yeah? And how can I ‘hurry you along’?”

Grun beckoned her towards him with two fingers.

She eyed him suspiciously but stepped over to the bed and kneeled next to him.

He swept those same two fingers under her and to her vulva, then stopped just as he touched her. She was still wet, still so ready to be touched.

She quivered with anticipation, heat flaring under her skin as a gasp escaped her lips.

He paused, finding her eyes, looking for any sign of apprehension or protest. There was none. He slipped his fingers inside.

“Gruuun… I, I have to go to work…” Linza said.

“Do you?” He circled his thumb over her clit.

She gasped and shuddered.

“You don’t look like you have to go to work…” He pressed his thick fingers slightly further inside. 

She whimpered.

“You don’t sound like you have to go to work…”

“W-well I do have to…”

He curled the tips of his fingers back towards himself. He pressed exactly on her spot. She moaned.

“I don’t think life should be lived from ‘have tos’,” he continued. “I like… ‘want tos’. What do you want?”

He pressed insistently, rhythmically at her spot, thumb still circling over her clit. Her own moisture mixed with the remnants of his seed and dripped down his hand.

“F-fuck you’re right on my spot!” she said. With every press, her resolve slipped a little further out of her grasp.

“I said… what do you want?”

“Fuck, I want to cum!”

His hips bucked. “Gods, I like it when you talk like that. I like it when you tell me what you want.”

His affirmation was as intoxicating as the lust. She put her own hand to her clit, pushing his thumb away and rubbing herself eagerly.

He shifted his hand slightly so that he could press more easily against her spot, moving his fingers in and out.

“Gods, right there,” Linza whimpered. This differed from his fullness in her— this was more intense, more direct. This was no gently tended ember, this was a bellows put to the flame. Like steam expanded to fill every available space, so the heat filled her even to the tips of her fingers and toes.

It was almost too much to bear, almost so much that she asked him to stop, but she didn’t want it to stop. If he stopped, the heat would dissipate only very slowly, like a steam engine with a clogged release valve.

Ironically, unbearably, rapturously—release would only come through greater pressure. Something, somewhere, would finally give. 

But not yet. Her grasping hand found his upper thigh, her fingers curled to claws and dug into his skin. “I want to cuuum…” Her other hand worked vigorously at her clit.

He moaned with deeper pleasure, his attention drifting towards stroking himself. “Fuuuuck… I’m close…”

Linza panted. “Wait for me.” Whatever part of her that would have deemed such a request as ‘too selfish’ had melted in the heat.

Grun moaned and stopped stroking. “As you wish.” He returned his attentions more fully to her, to his fingers inside of her.

The hints of pre-orgasmic pleasure quickened. “Right there… just like that… fuck, don’t stop… don’t stop…” The wanting and waiting were torture, but they allowed every molecule of her being to align to a singular goal.

Then, the cork holding back all that heat and pressure budged. A shift and her breathing quickened. A wobble and her heart thundered. And then Linza’s heat exploded. “Oh, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, I— Ah— Aaaaaaah!”

As she quivered with sensitivity, Grun turned his pressing into steady pressure, which was exactly to her liking. His reason was more instinctive, though. The sound of her climax had pushed him into his own inescapable need. As soon as he started stroking himself, he was on the edge.

His face and body tensed. His moan was the first sign, and then the first convulsion coursed through him. The second brought a spurt of cum multiple feet in the air, then the next, and the rest flowed out over his hand and onto his stomach, like sea foam over green waves.

As he relaxed, she pressed her hand over his and held his palm against her mound, his fingers inside of her, until her last waves of pleasure faded.

Grun stirred and put his fingers to his tongue, sucking her wetness off of him. He propped himself up and grinned at her. “You don’t seem in any sort of state to go to work,” he said confidently.

“I don’t?” Linza said, though her hair was a tangle and she still floated in the hazy afterglow.

He shook his head. “It’s my professional opinion that you need a day off. You are simply indisposed.”

Linza brought herself back down to reality. She did indeed have an allowance of paid leave. She hadn’t used any since she’d started working, not even when she’d actually been sick. It felt… risky, scandalous, guilty to play hooky. It also felt… exciting, interesting, lively.

She couldn’t be the only one who just… needed a day off now and again, right?

“Mmmmm okay, fine. Just this once. What, do you want to stay in and fuck all day?”

Grun sighed as if at a fond memory. “I certainly would not protest. But I was thinking… I haven’t actually seen much of the city. Maybe we could go on a tour? You can show me some of your favorite spots?”

“Oh! That sounds really nice.” And then Linza blushed. It made little sense to be shy given how they’d just fucked, but… a day on the town, practically a second date, the idea that he’d want to just spend time with her, sex aside… it felt good, and a little frightening.

Linza distracted herself by getting dressed, but then realized Grun had only his suit. While Linza searched for her most oversized sweater just in case he might be able to squeeze into it, he simply put on his pants and hooked his suit coat over his shoulder, neatly folding his shirt and setting it aside. Once he caught his hair up into a messy bun, he was instantly the picture of fashion.

Though someone might have taken offense at a human or even an elf walking around the city without a shirt on, nobody was about to tell a half-orc what they could or could not wear.

But fuck, was she going to have a hard time not staring at him the whole time.

Linza re-tucked her shirt into her skirt for the third time. Next to Grun, she felt… under-dressed. Over-dressed? It’s not like she had much of a choice—her entire wardrobe was more of the same. Linza reassured herself that if Grun had thought her usual outfit looked silly, he wouldn’t have flirted with her in the first place, so she’d better just stop fretting and get on with it.

After a brief stop by the nearest pigeon coops, where Linza delivered the letter to her employer explaining her absence for the day, she and Grun set out into town.