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Brothers	By : Koori Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 1830 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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WARNING! – Only took me thirty-nine chapters but there is male/female sex scene in this chapter.
Chapter Thirty-Nine – Foster Conway, Age 23
Using the chilled water Foster scrubbed himself clean. He was standing in a small wash basin, more suited for a dog than a human but that line had blurred long ago. Taking a nearby bucket he dumped the chilly water over his head, rinsing off the soap. Zalashji had asked for and received a washing station for his slaaf months ago. Foster made sure to voice his appreciation once more as he stepped out of the tub. Shaking the water from his hair, he grabbed one of the nearby rough towels. His hair was now almost as long as Nathaniel's had been. Pulling it back in ponytail he approached the naga who had been watching him silently.
"May I shave, Master Zalashji?" The naga nodded and a handed him a straight blade razor. As Foster reached for it the old scars across his wrists could be seen. Since then the naga kept the razor on his person and watched Foster very closely when he used it. Using a broken mirror Foster quickly shaved off the stubble, he thought it had only been a week since he had last shaven but the hair on his chin said otherwise. He sighed. "How long have we been here, Master?" he asked as he returned the razor.
The naga shrugged. "Not long," he said.
"Not long?" Foster said desperately. "It's been months! I've seen at least three seasons change. It looks to be spring again outside!"
"I forget how closely you humans watch the sand through the hourglass," Zalashji said. He twitched his massive tail. Foster saw the subtle change in his master's chest, as the muscles moved. Giving him enough of a warning to easily jump over the tail and out of range.
"Joust Master Zalashji?" he asked in case he had misjudged the naga intent. If they were sparing he was allowed to strike back.
"Yes," the naga hissed, charging.
"Your scent," Foster said holding his hands up in front of him crossing them to add more support and cushion for the blow.
"Ah yes," the naga said, there was a rippling of muscles. Once again he read it correctly as the tail coiled around him and brought him closer. Foster closed his eyes as the mist sprayed down on him. After all these times he had lost the ability to pick up the odor he knew was there but the slimy residue was still repulsive. The sound of a door opening warned them of visitors and Foster found himself sat down on the nest. Pulling the blanket over his nakedness the two prisoners waited. Zalashji picked up the scent first and chuckled, barking. "Your mate brings us our meal."
Foster hurried over to the bars, letting the blanket fall. After all these months of being naked in captivity the covering was more for the sake of others than his. Nignath appeared with two trays, she smiled at him and he returned it. Ever since Gilbert had bought her from Arthur those months ago, her coming and goings from his prison had offered him his one and only bright spot in this hell. She set the trays down and approached the cell. Holding her arms through the bars she said, "Please, Master Zalashji, so I my scent is not left behind."
The naga nodded and blew the fine mist over her bare green arms. Only then did she reach over and stroke Foster's cheek. Her touch was the only one the naga permitted besides his own, a reward for both of them. For her saving Foster's life those dark days ago when he had run out of hope and strength to continue.
"Master they are going to call on you tonight," she said bending down and picking up the tray which she held close to the bars. "I did not bring you food as you've requested." Foster reached through the bars and took off the sandwich and drink on the tray. After setting them down he took the dried fruit and smoked bacon off the other. These he brought over to Zalashji who nodded over to a crate nearby. Foster added them to their stash.
"Do they grow suspicious of our Master's menu?" Foster asked sitting down next to the bars. Nignath did the same on the other side so they could be close.
"As long as he keeps winning, he could ask for pink cake and get it." She replied with a laugh.
"This will be my last bout for a while," Zalashji said surprising them both.
"Master," Foster said between bites. "That sadly isn't something you get to decide."
"In this case it is the truth," the naga said as his tail wrapped around Foster and pulled him away. They both knew better than to argue.
Nignath stood and collected the trays. "Thank you again for your mark, Master," she said gesturing to the trident burnt on the back of her hand "It has made my work load very easy for me. They don't wish to anger you."
"I couldn't care less about you orc wench," the naga hissed. "However, your presence has a calming influence on my slaaf so you are tolerated."
"Be strong, brother," she said in orcish.
"For you," Foster replied in the same. His half-eaten sandwich was snatched from his hand by the naga and he was tossed aside.
"Ready yourself," Zalashji said charging.
They dueled for over an hour; Foster had gotten quite good at defending himself against the attacks of the naga. He still had very little luck when it came to offensive moves. The scales were natural armor and if Zalashji had a weak point, he was not willing to expose it. Stomping on the tip of his tail did seem to hurt the naga, but not enough to incapacitate him and it made him furious. There was nothing quite as forbidding as being in a locked cage with an angry naga. Foster made sure to leave the tail alone. After their match Foster was pulled into a scaly embrace as Zalashji's cold blood desired the feel of his warmth. The naga ran his talons through Foster's ponytail as they rested.
Foster absently ran his hand over the scales, something he had done a hundred times before. However, this time it felt different and he frowned. The scales usually felt cool and smooth. Today they felt almost dry and brittle; he frowned as he rubbed the scales against their grain. This got his ponytail a tug, taking it as a warning he settled and closed his eyes and dreamt. It was a familiar vision; he was in the duel cage bound by the collar Zalashji forced him to wear. The naga's latest victim stepped into the ring. At first the hulking body of the naga hid his opponent and then there was a shift and there standing before his master was his father. His sire's angry eyes found him cowering in the corner. "What are you doing?" his father would shout. "Where is your brother? You were supposed to protect them … shield them all!" Zalashji would charge and Foster would awake. The soft hissing from the naga told Foster he was sleeping still, which meant he must not have shouted out this time.
"Protect," Foster sighed. "I have failed you a thousand times Pa …"
That evening he wrapped the blanket around his lower half, his pants had been lost months ago and no one seemed anxious to replace them. Zalashji slid the collar around Foster's neck, leaving the chain hanging loose down his back. Ever since Jasper's foiled escape attempt, one which he paid for with his life, the naga had requested and received a restraint he used to keep Foster chained to the cage while he battled. Foster returned the favor by shackling the naga's massive arms behind him. Afterwards Zalashji picked him up with his tail and slithered out the opened door. Alongside there stood a dozen armed men, as Zalashji's fame grew so did the guards' numbers. As they passed by one of the guardsmen grabbed the corner of Foster's blanket and jerked it off tossing it back into the cage.
Foster shouted but since no one had actually touched him, the naga was unconcerned. "I hate going in there naked," he mumbled.
"Why?" Zalashji asked, "I do." Then he let out a barking laugh. "It is at my request, slaaf."
Foster's heart raced. What had he done? Ever since Nignath had returned to him he had been as passive as a kitten. Why was he being punished? The change in his blood pressure was noticed and more barking ensued. He noticed another change; there was no wild cheering coming from the barn they were approaching. When they entered there were only a dozen men inside.
Zalashji slithered into the cage and Foster saw a stake driven into the middle of the ground. It was this stake the naga fastened the end of his chain too, leaving him naked in the center of the confine as he glided over to the corner. The chain did not give him room to stand so he was forced to kneel. The men outside moved closer to the cage walls, there was an uneasy feeling in the air.
"All right," Gilbert said, drawing Foster's attention to the man. "At the request of my gladiator we have a special treat for you few. A private viewing I'm sure will leave you in the mood to go home and fuck your mistress or maybe even your wife." The door to the cage opened again and Nignath was pushed inside, completely naked. Her nakedness got whistles and leers from the men gathered. Ignoring them she walked over to the naga in the corner and held out her arms. As the mist coated her she turned around slowly.
"Keep this up and I'll spray you too whore!" One of the men shouted.
Disregarding the shouting she walked over and knelt in front of Foster. He was confused and fearful for her. "Sister …"
She placed a finger over his lips silencing him. "Don't call me that tonight," she took down her hair and reached behind him and did the same. "I like your hair long," she said. She looked over his shoulder at Zalashji and Foster did the same.
"I'm giving you a chance to mate with the female," he hissed. "Her musk scent has been overwhelming these past couple of days. Either you take her now or I will it matters not to those that watch."
Foster met Nignath's gaze and she nodded. "I can't …" he whispered.
"I have been taken by countless men," she said, a tear falling down her cheek. "Yet the one I care for would deny me and let me be raped by a snake?"
"No!" Foster said quickly. His hands were free so he was able to brush the tear away. He looked around the room if there was a musk scent in the air it wasn't only coming from the woman kneeling in front of him. "I can't … not in front of them…"
"Only me," she said cupping his face with her hands. "There is only me … block them from your mind like I have."
"I've never …" for all the trash talk he'd endured the past year he'd never been with anyone … male, female or naga.
Realization came to her eyes. "I understand," she said sadly standing. As she stepped toward the naga he grabbed her wrist.
"Show me," he said.
Nignath knelt down in front of him. "Only me," she whispered as she took his hand and placed his trembling fingers against her cheek.
His world did indeed shrink down to the female in front of him. "Only you," he answered, leaning as far forward as the chain allowed, resting his forehead against hers. Her lips pressed against his, he could feel the pressure of her tusks against his cheeks. Something moist and soft pressed against his lips and he gasped. As he did her tongue slipped inside his mouth. Her hand moved behind his neck holding him in place as she kissed him. He placed a hand behind her head mimicking as he tasted the spices in the kiss. Their spectators were not in the mood for tenderness and their shouts became more vulgar.
"Forgive me," Nignath whispered as she broke the kiss. "I would love to show you the proper way to make love, but that won't be allowed." She gently pushed him back, but kept his legs pinned beneath. Putting his arms behind him he tried to stop the decent, but the pressure continued until he was painfully arched back, his shoulders flat against the ground. To his humiliation his desire was evident to all who was watching. He struggled to pull his legs out from under him to relieve the ache but Nignath knelt down, placing a hand on either thigh keeping him pinned. As he was about to voice his distress, her mouth closed around his heated flesh and all else was forgotten. There was nothing he had experienced before he could compare to the pleasure rippling up his body from his core. As her tongue expertly massaged him, he felt the warmth of her magic enter him, enhancing the touch. His hands reached down and grasped her wrists as his body started matching her ancient rhythm. He had heard of other men giving themselves pleasure with their hands but he had never, he wanted to save that for Beth … the thought of his old flame interrupted the passionate moment but Nignath was too far gone to notice.
Her warm mouth left him and she blew on his throbbing flesh, chilling it. Then she gently pulled his legs out letting him stretch out flat on the ground. Still kneeling she moved so she straddled his waist. He had a feeling there was something more and moaned as she gripped his cock and settled herself down on it. It was another new wonderful experience for him. She took his hands and placed them on her emerald breasts, he massaged them and she bent down so the hard nipple brushed against his lips. Opening his mouth he ran a tongue around it and was reward by a moan from Nignath. Closing his teeth around the nub he pulled on it gently and the orc above him trembled. She continued to move her ass up and down slowly riding him. Behind her bent over frame Foster saw a man approach, his own red throbbing cock in his hand. With a couple of quick jerks something white spurted out and splattered down Nignath's back.
Foster felt his rage building and suddenly Nignath's mouth was on his, her tusks leaving bloody trails along his cheeks as she kissed him. At the same moment she released the spell she had cast on him to slow down his climax and his body jerked as his mouth opened in a soundless scream. Never had he felt such a release. Afterwards he laid trembling underneath her, his body covered by hers as other men sprayed their own passion over them.
"Thank you," she whispered in orcish, as she was jerked away from him.
"All right," Gilbert said, "hope that was worth the price of admission, the whore will be chained up outside for those that want to pay to have their own cock washed."
"No!" Foster shouted. The chain around his neck went taut as he was released from the stake by Zalashji and secured in the corner. The naga sprayed Foster with the mist, in attempt to erase the odor of Nignath and the men.
"Thank me, slaaf," he hissed.
Foster watched as three men walked outside. "Please," he whispered. "Save her."
Sharp talons closed down on his chin and the serpent tongue licked the blood from the cuts left behind by Nignath's tusks. "Thank me, slaaf…"
"Thank you, Master Zalashji," he said softly.
The naga patted him on the top of the head. "I assume there is more planned?" he asked Gilbert.
"Oh yeah," was the reply. "The main event will start shortly!"
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Brothers