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The Price of Gratitude	By : Mayamahal Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 6057 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Blizzard or World of Warcraft. I make no profit or money for writing this.

Chapter List
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Maia awoke naked and laying on her stomach to the feel of warm sunlight on her bare shoulders, her cheek pillowed against something firm and almost hot.

Squinting against the light, she shadowed her face with a hand, wondering why she'd left the curtains opened last night, only to have her memory crash in to her.

She lifted her head in shock, her dark hair framing her vision as she stared at the living pillow she'd been cuddling against.

The Troll was still sleeping. His breathing was the shallow, steady kind that came with deep slumber, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other still wound about her, his hand cupping the curve of her behind. He still wore his leather breeches, the belt loosened for comfort but for comfort only.

Her cheeks burned furiously as she remembered... well, everything, even the part when he resisted her efforts to remove his pants. But after that...

Well, after that, things get... muddled, she thought, examining her memories again. Biting her lip, she felt heat swell between her thighs as she recalled his mouth and his hands, and her cheeks tingled with the tell-tale sensation of fierce blushing.

She vaguely remembered his smug satisfaction as he climbed into her bed, pulling her to sprawl atop him. She remembered pressing her face into his chest and inhaling his scent; she remembered his hand running down her spine, his breathing labored as he calmed his desire by sheer will alone. He had pulled her chemise from her body, and dragged a blanket over them both.

Maia bit her lip as she sat up, some shred of modesty reminding her that her chemise was still nearby, and was a handy thing to cover her chest with. Her eyes stayed on him, mindful of waking him. She bit back a giggle when she saw how well he didn't fit her bed, his legs hanging off the edge.

Gods, she thought. He must be at least eight feet tall...

Sprawled and tangled in her blankets, he was still an awesome sight; free to examine him, she let her eyes wander, taking in the broad shoulders, the muscled, defined chest, and stomach. Even when he breathed, his body rippled; the man was an athlete of a hunter.

With a gentle hand, she reached out to lift a glass bead at the end of one long, narrow plait that rested along his neck; the bead had been sand-blasted, its normal glossy surface made matte with a deliberate texture. So as not to catch the light, she pondered. All the ornamentation he wore was thusly muted, details to be noted in person but not at great distances.

A flutter and rustle of feathers caught her attention, and she lifted her head to gaze out the open window. Blue-ebony feathers glinted as Blackbird winged into her yard, landing with a soft call. Smiling, she moved to get up and great the beautiful beast.

A dusky blue hand shot out and wound about her waist, pulling her back atop her unexpected visitor. Maia gasped, squirming in his grip, only to go still and quiver as his warm, calloused palms ran down the planes of her back, his large fingers kneading her flesh as he went. A tusk grazed her shoulder, and she whimpered when he planted a soft, tender kiss just above the swell of her left breast.

That deep, male voice murmured into her curves. He was looking at her, a small smile on his lips, his free hand threading sleepily into his tangled white hair, wincing as he caught at a snarl. His other hand slid down across the full swell of her hip, inquisitive fingers slipping along her crevice from behind.

She dug her fingers into his biceps, eyes fluttering shut as he robbed her of all coherent thought. Panting, her thighs spread of their own accord as a thick digit slid into her moist, hungry body. He made a noise of approval, his mouth kissing at her throat as she tilted her head back.

"Gods," she breathed, shaking, his finger moving in firm, rhythmic strokes. It was building again, that ball of heat in her belly, the knots of sensation that rendered her mindless. Her hips were moving against him, in time to his strokes as he watched what he was doing to her sanity.

Eyes opening to slits, she looked down at him, her lips parted to pant. Sure enough, he was staring at her intently, his smile amused, pleased, as he coaxed moan after soft, helpless moan from her trembling mouth. She was losing her mind.

In an instant, he had flipped her to her back, moving his hand to accost her from the front, palm settling against her pubis as he slid his finger back into her. Crying out, she threw her head back and spread her thighs, the hunter increasing his pace.

Digging her fingers into his arms, her spine arching above the bed, a torrent of pleas spilling from her lips as she begged him to stop, to not stop, to go faster, to give her more, harder, slower, no stop-

He didn't even pause as he added another finger, stretching her wide, his pace still faster, his movements firmer.

That was all it took; with a jerk and a buck of her hips, she threw her head back, a cacophony of sound exploding from her throat as she cried out again and again, body spasming as she clenched down on his stroking fingers. Sensing her need, he pressed them in one last time, harder than all the times before, and kept them within her, fingers curled up, pressing a hidden, sensitive spot in firm, rhythmic patterns.

Each inner bit of pressure threw her over the edge, again and again, until she'd lost count of how many times she'd found her release, until she was a sobbing wreck of a woman, wrung out and drenched with sweat and the honey of her sex.

Vaguely, some time later, she was aware of being carried, her cheek against a dusky, blue-skinned chest, her body cradled by strong arms. There was the sound of water, a hiss of pleasure, and slowly, slowly, she was submerged into her hotspring pool up to her chin.

Rough hands rubbed at her neck, across her shoulders, down her arms. She opened her eyes slowly to stare at the hunter, watching as he smiled into her gaze. He said something softly, wonder in his voice, as one hand paused to touch her swollen, tingling sex. She bit back a whimper and twitched in his lap, the Troll whispering to her soothingly as he withdrew his hand.

He lifted her chin and kissed her softly, shifting to press her against a wall of the pool, his hands rubbing down her sides, drawing up her thighs to wrap her legs around his waist.

It was then that Maia realized he had lost his pants.

She had about a moment to process this before she felt him nudging at her opening, and realized, with widening eyes, that his attentions earlier hadn't been completely selfless; he was easily wider than his two thick fingers.

"Wait," she gasped, going tense, her hands moving to press feebly at this chest. It was too late, however; with a shift of weight and a well angled thrust, he slid slowly, carefully into her.

She wasn't quite prepared for the sound she made; it was a cross between a wail and a cry, soft but piercing. It startled him as well, making him pause midthrust to gaze at her. Her head had fallen back against the rim of the pool, her breathing ragged, her eyes shut to slits, and he brought his hands up to cup the back of her head, drawing her chin down to stare into her eyes. He intoned a question, his brow furrowed, his words sounding worried.

It was hard to keep her eyes open around the feel of him, and she struggled to explain to him what she was feeling. Her body betrayed her, however; trembling, her hips twitched and he moved a little inside of her, the intense sensation making her sex clench, hard, along him.

The change was remarkable; his worried expression became pained, the Troll baring his teeth as he growled in frustrated restraint. Witnessing his feral pleasure was almost enough to send her over the edge, her thighs flinching around his lean form. Suddenly quite decided, Maia wrapped her legs around him and pulled him close, tilting her hips to draw him inward, as deep as she could manage.

With a groan and a shift, he settled between her thighs and sank completely into her, never taking his eyes from hers. She felt her body stretch to accomodate his thick, hard cock, her arms winding around his neck as he began the slow rolling rhythm that would send them both beyond the brink. Breathing hard, he watched her watching him, his hands braced against the rim behind her. His powerful hips were trembling with checked desire, and Maia could feel the control it took to keep him from pinning her to the rock and pounding her without remorse.

But she wanted all of him.

Shaking hands framed his face, and she stared into his silver eyes. Licking her lips, sure she had his attention, she shuddered.

"Fuck me," she said slowly, letting tone and emotion convey what she needed him to understand.

His expression flickered, the meaning clear and unmistakeable. His head twitched as he meant to shake his head at her, but she slid her fingers into his damp hair, clenching them into fists as she pulled his tresses, tilting his chin up.

"Fuck me," she groaned into his throat, before her teeth closed on skin and she bit him firmly.

He jerked and voiced a throaty growl, shoving her back against the smooth stone, hooking his hands behind her knees and spreading her incredibly wide. Her arms wound tight around his neck, clinging to him, as he changed his angle and pace, thrusting hard into her.

"Yes," she whimpered, pressing her face into the side of his neck as he began to buck against her, his hips rolling in firm, rigid strokes. He pushed cry after sharp, desperate cry from her lips, gritting out wild, angry-sounding words into her ear, alternately nipping at her skin, and pressing his teeth firmly into her flesh. As his pace increased, so did Maia's cries, and soon she was wailing, clawing at his shoulders as she felt her coming close, burning through her, making her tense with need.

A three-fingered hand sank into her hair and wrenched her head back, the gesture not gentle but dominant and painless. He stared into her eyes as he pounded into her, harder and harder, his teeth bared in an exquisite, deep, resonating snarl. It was getting more and more difficult to focus, to breathe-

"Come fo' me," he bit out, growling in low, reverberating tones.

Her eyes went wide, and her body did what he commanded, muscles clenching, fluttering around his thick shape. He dug the fingers of his free hand into one of her buttocks, one digit teasing the pucker of her nether opening as she quaked against him, unable to breathe.

Her vision was starting to dim, and he ground out, "Breathe, woman." She gasped, her arms tightening around his neck, the rush of oxygen enhancing her orgasm. Still, he thrust into her, hissing desperate, angry curse words in his native tongue.

As her climax plataued, she felt it build again as he continued to fuck her, until she was moaning mindlessly against him. She felt her body begin to succumb, her hips writhing and straining into his thrusts. His hand clenched in her hair again, pulling her head back to stare into her eyes.

"Again," he breathed, wonder and lust staining his voice.

Helpless, she did.

It was then, watching her come at his command, that he released himself at last. With a shout and a few last series of hard, spasmodic jerks, he emptied his seed into her, pinning her to the stone with his hips.

When she finally came back to herself, she was limp and blissful, her cheek pillowed on his shoulder, her panting in time to his ragged breathing. He was shaking against her, his arms wound tight about her shoulders. Murmuring into his skin, she blinked slowly and tilted her head to peer at him.

Catching her gaze, he smiled weakly and shook his head, leaning back to half-float in the pool, keeping her close. He bit her shoulder gently, smiling more as she twitched sharply and moaned.

"Ya be an unexpected surprise, magey," he mumbled at her. "Dat's fo' sure."

For a long moment, she simply soaked that in, relaxing against him. Realization, however slow at first, surged through her soon enough and brought with it a sobering clarity. Blinking, she lifted her head to stare at him. And punch him hard in the shoulder. He grunted in surprise.

"You bloody bastard!" she gasped. "You speak Common...!"

His grin bated her, and she struggled in his embrace. "You understood every damn thing I said yesterday! I ought to have... of all the... why didn't I..." she spluttered, trying to break free. "I'm such a fool," she blurted out. "I should have known this for a trick-"

Before she could blink, she was pinned against the edge of the pool a second time, the thick, rigid length of him penetrating her sex smoothly. With a cry, she threw her head back, her thighs wedged open around his hips, his hands digging into her buttocks. Panting, she was dimly aware of his savage snarl.

"Don' do dat," he growled at her, his hips rolling against her, withdrawing the thick, intense length of him slowly, only to lean forward and sink into her again. She whimpered shrilly, startled by his response.

Don't do what-?

A large hand cradled the side of her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Don' do dat," he whispered fiercely, his lips skimming the surface of her cheekbone.

Unknowingly, her eyes were apparently betraying her, tears seeping down her face as the intensity of the hunter made her body weep with over-stimulation. She inhaled sharply, her breath exploding from her in a startled sob.

"Tsssaah..." he murmured to her, his hips pausing, settling himself snug to her, not moving, pressed firm. He pressed his lips to her hair, her brow. "Ya be no fool," he breathed. "I be da fool, fo' not trustin' you as much as ya trusted me."

Maia cursed at herself, closing her eyes as she buried her face in his neck, shaking from the intensity of everything, of him. He continued to croon softly at her, running his hands through her hair, up and down her neck, like she was a newly tamed beast he'd claimed for his own.

She didn't like that comparison. It struck too close to home.

Still, she didn't pull away. They remained like that a long while, he buried in her and she with her face in the crook of his neck. Maia couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so...

So...

She had apparently fallen asleep, as the next time she woke it was in her bedroom, the walls harshly golden with the light of the setting sun. Bolting upright, eyes wide, she looked frantically about her. Had it all been a dream? Panic took hold of her, climbed into her throat unbidden and froze her in place with its mere existence.

This isn't like me, she thought frantically. I don't do this...

Just as she was about to call out, her mouth opening to do so, the door to her room creaked open. Her head turned so fast that her hair whipped across her shoulder, tickling her skin. She brushed at it as the tall, lanky troll made his way to her.

"I needs be leavin', girly," he intoned, dropping to crouch beside her bed. "I got things needs be doin', folks ta report ta 'fore dey start sendin' search parties afta me."

Maia nodded as she swung her legs over the edge of her bed, tugging at the shirt she was wearing as she turned towards him. He smirked at her, reaching out to casually undo buttons.

"An' I be needin' mah shirt back," he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers as he slowly, deliberately popped one. Button. At. A time.

"Your shirt?" she whispered back, confused. Looking down, she saw he was right; she was wearing his shirt.

"Ya were shiverin' when I pulled ya out o' dat water," he replied, grinning as she began to tremble beneath the exposure of skin. "Sens'tive thing, aintcha?" he teased. Buttons undone, he parted the fabric, the smile melting from his face, a hungrier expression taking its place.

Before she knew it, he was looming over her, pressing her back into the bed while her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist. His calloused palm rubbed her belly, slid up to open the shirt fully, eyes traveling downward as he revealed skin and the lush, full shapes of her breasts. His eyes grew dark, his mouth dropping low to brush a pink, perky nipple with his moistened lips. Maia inhaled sharply, arching her back and closing her eyes, fingers entangling in his hair again.

"Mmmf," he grunted, lifting his head slowly to glare playfully at her. "Jus' fixed dat," he complained good-naturedly. Carefully, he drew her hands from his mane, fingers lacing with hers as he met her gaze.

He was quiet a long moment, simply looking at her as she looked right back at him. Deliberately, his hands disengaged from hers, winding around her wrists to push the sleeves up along her arm, eventually pulling the garment from her limbs and rendering her naked. Again.

"Why is you always take my clothes off and never let me take off any of yours?" she muttered, frowning at him while her fingers brushed mussed pale tresses from his eyes.

"We only jus' met, magey," he replied with a grin. "Mebbe next time I let ya, mm?"

Her brow furrowed, her fingers fiddling timidly with a narrow plait that started at his crown and went almost to his sternum. There were words in her head, foolish words. Things she wanted to say, promises she didn't want him to make.

But she couldn't make herself meet his eyes again, and she couldn't tear her gaze from the pale thin braid and it's collection of delicate beads.

"Hey," he said softly, tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "I'ma say dis now, woman, an' I be needin' ya ta remember it, mm?"

"Maia."

He tilted his head. "Eh?"

"Me," she murmured. "My name. It's Maia."

She watched his generous mouth curve into a slow, pleased smile.

"Dis ain't somethin' ol' Koda be used ta doin'," he rumbled softly. "I don' make it a habit ta be sleepin' wit da enemy, or a stranger, fo' dat matta." His thumb traced the underside of her bottom lip, something he seemed to enjoy doing, she noted.

He leaned closer, his eyes willing hers to return his gaze. "I be sayin' dis, Maia," he breathed, "...'cause ya need ta understan' dat I will be back." A growl resonated through his throat. "An' I be expectin' ya to be ready fo' me."

His hand trailed from her jaw to her neck, gripping her gently. "Me," he whispered, "An' only me."

Much later, when she had watched him slink off into the twilight shadows and meld soundlessly into the dark, his black eagle soaring somewhere ahead of him, she realized he'd severed the very braid she'd been toying with and wound it around her wrist when she hadn't been looking.

It was bound there with a bit of red thread, artfully knotted into the glass beads that adorned the plait. Sitting on her roof, the moon rising as the wind tugged gently at her damp, freshly-washed hair, for the first time since she'd taken up living there, it was not the ocean she gazed at wistfully when the stars came out.

It was the gleam of moonlight on her wrist she couldn't take her eyes from, her fingers toying with the beads, musing over the promise in Koda's kiss, and wondering what in all the hells she'd gotten herself in to.
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The Price of Gratitude