A Savage Nature (Warcraft)

A/N: If you've enjoyed reading this story and want to hop on board my next story right at the moment of its conception, please check out The Soul Engine for me! It just started and I'm really excited for it~

-x-X-x-

“It’s finished, beloved. The Lich King is defeated.”
 
Kneeling there in a seemingly random spot of the Emerald Dragonshrine, Tyrande Whisperwind smiles softly as she brushes her fingers through the grass in front of her. This was where Malfurion Stormrage had manifested for the last time. Where they’d shared their final moment together only a few days ago. Strangely enough, it feels like it happened five minutes ago and a lifetime ago, both at the same time.
 
Still, as far as points of contact go, it was the best Tyrande was going to get here in Northrend. After the death of the Lich King and the confiscation of the Helm of Domination, they had made their way back to the Emerald Dragonshrine. Celebration was in order, but the frozen wastes of Icecrown were somehow much more foreboding than the frozen wastes of Dragonblight. Everyone was perfectly happy spending the necessary time to travel back down to the southern shores of the continent in order to get away from that citadel of dark metal. A monument to the Lich King’s evil if ever there was one.
 
Ysera had assured them that it would be dealt with in time, and frankly, Tyrande believed her. After all, Northrend was home to not just the Green Dragonflight, but all of the others as well. There was just no way that they would let such a terrible thing remain, not now that they knew about it.
 
As for Tyrande herself… while the others had begun celebrating their triumph over the Scourge’s Master outside of the Emerald Dragonshrine, Tyrande had begged off in order to come here and say one last goodbye. It wasn’t just what Malfurion deserved, but also what the Priestess of Elune needed. She’d had her vengeance. She could finally put this all to rest.
 
For a long moment, Tyrande stares down at the grass where her beloved had stood upon his last manifestation on Azeroth. Her fingers remain curled through the verdant foliage. And then finally… she lets out a low breath and pulls her hand back. A weight leaves her chest and the High Priestess of Elune is left feeling surprisingly light as she slowly rises to her feet.
 
“Tyrande…”
 
No sooner has she done so then Ysera’s familiar voice calls out to her, causing Tyrande to turn and regard the Aspect of Dreams as she approaches in her humanoid form. Smiling, wiping an errant bit of moisture from under her eye, Tyrande bows her head.
 
“Lady Ysera.”
 
Coming to a stop before her, Ysera reaches out and places one hand on Tyrande’s shoulder, the other coming up to tuck under the Priestess’ chin, lifting her head. Once upon a time, the Dragon Aspect had been Tyrande’s teacher. But it had been centuries since they last spoke. And yet, Ysera looks upon her with fondness in her gaze, showing no sign of being upset that Tyrande and Cenarius came and disrupted her slumber, begging her to join them on their quest.
 
“We are alone, Tyrande. Alone and unobserved. I think we can set aside formalities for the evening, don’t you? I count you as my friend… and I hope you can see me the same way.”
 
Tyrande resists the urge to scoff. That is hard for her, in the same way it’s hard for her to treat the Lord of the Forest with anything less than the reverence he deserves. Both Ysera and Cenarius were old when Tyrande was still young, and wise when she was but a mewling child trying to make her way in the world. Both of them had been there for her all her life, teaching her, advising her, and comforting her through every trial and tribulation.
 
Still… Ysera is right. They are alone. So, smiling softly, Tyrande bobs her head in a nod.
 
“Of course… Ysera.”
 
Leaving off any formal form of address certainly feels strange, but it doesn’t necessarily feel wrong. Ysera’s widening smile makes it feel quite right in fact, as the Dragon Aspect’s gaze flickers past her to where she’d been kneeling for a moment.
 
“… Have you finished your business here, my friend?”
 
Glancing back at the nondescript spot of grass, no sign that it was any more important than any of the other grass around it, Tyrande lets out a watery chuckle.
 
“… I have.”
 
With that, Ysera places an arm around her shoulders and sweeps her away, guiding her through the winding paths of the Emerald Dragonshrine and taking Tyrande, for all intents and purposes, on a walk. For a brief time, they do so in companionable silence, Tyrande simply basking in her mentor and friend’s presence. But finally, Ysera speaks.
 
“I know how much it hurts to lose the one you love, Tyrande. I know how it feels as though a piece of yourself has been cut out of you and set on fire, and that to move on without that piece feels all but impossible.”
 
Tyrande lets out a shuddering breath at that, well aware that Ysera has suffered her own fair share of loss throughout her incredibly long life. Of course, things were a little different for the two of them. Ysera was a dragon and at the end of the day, dragons tended not to have singular mates. Especially not the Aspects, who were said to have many consorts by which they made sure that clutches of fresh eggs were fertilized.
 
That did not mean Ysera loved her consorts or any of the others in her flight any less to be fair, but it did mean she didn’t fully grasp Tyrande’s experience, the High Priestess having loved the same man for over ten thousand years. And yet…
 
“Malfurion will always be a part of me. I don’t think I could set him aside if I tried. And while I’ve lost him… I have not lost our love. Our memories together.”
 
Ysera blinks at that, the Dragon Aspect looking slightly surprised.
 
“… I am pleased to hear you say as much, Tyrande. From what Cenarius had said…”
 
The Lady of Dreams trails off, no doubt feeling a little embarrassed to have accidentally thrown her adoptive son under the bus. But Tyrande isn’t offended, nor is she upset that her loved ones have been talking about her behind her back. That was just what loved ones did… it showed how much they cared. Still, looking down at her hands for a moment, Tyrande chuckles.
 
“I feel… strangely at peace with everything if I’m being honest. Yes, Malfurion is gone. So is Illidan. I will always miss the Stormrage Brothers. My mate. My friend. Despite ten thousand years, it still feels like they were taken from me far too soon.”
 
Left unsaid is that Illidan’s imprisonment meant he spent those ten thousand years in less than stellar conditions. And Tyrande would have to live with her guilt for her part in that. But his final words rung in her ears all the same. To never stop fighting.
 
Clenching her hands into fists, Tyrande looks up at the starry night sky over head, remembering for a moment how it felt to be a conduit for her Goddess. Elune and she had been one in a way that had never happened before… and would likely never happen again. It had not just been Elune who had taken over and possessed Tyrande… but rather, a seamless melding, in which Priestess and Goddess were unified in their purpose.
 
The Lich King had died, the spirit used to make the malevolent entity purified out of the Helm entirely. And then the Helm was removed, never to be worn by a denizen of Azeroth ever again. It had been a lot of power… but Tyrande found that she did not long for more of it. Rather, she had used it alongside Elune for its purpose, and now felt… at peace.
 
“I know that wisdom would say you cannot find closure in vengeance, Ysera. I know that wisdom would say that if you seek vengeance, you’re better off digging two graces. One for you and one for your enemy.”
 
Tilting her head to the side, Tyrande smiles wryly.
 
“I was fully prepared for that outcome, as I’m sure you’ve guessed.”
 
The Dragon Aspect is quiet at that but nevertheless inclines her head in silent acknowledgment of Tyrande’s words.
 
“Alas… that was not what happened. I did not have to die to ensure the Lich King was ended. He is gone and here I remain.”
 
There’s a pause before Ysera gives Tyrande’s shoulder another squeeze.
 
“And you are… okay with that?”
 
Chuckling again, this time at Ysera’s probing tone, Tyrande looks down from the stars and into the Dragon Aspect’s eyes.
 
“I am. Malfurion and Illidan… both of them made it quite clear in their final words to me that I was not to give in to despair. I have done my best to stay true to their memories, and I will continue to do so going forward. My time on this world is not yet over… and the work is far from done, isn’t it?”
 
The Lich King might be dead… and so was Archimonde as well. The Burning Legion’s Invasion of Azeroth had been stymied and the head of the Scourge had been decapitated. And yet, the threat was not over. The Legion was still out there, and their eyes were still turned towards Tyrande’s world. She wouldn’t let them have it. She wouldn’t let them have a single inch of ground, not if she could help it.
 
“Hm. No… no it is not. Though there’s no harm in relaxing, even if for a single evening.”
 
Tyrande blinks, pulled from her thoughts by Ysera’s meaningful tone. The Priestess of Elune can’t help but chuckle softly.
 
“You almost sound like Shandris.”
 
Lifting a single sculpted eyebrow, the disguised dragon hums.
 
“Ah, Shandris. How is the little one doing these days? She sounds like she’s gotten wise.”
 
Smirking, Tyrande nods her head.
 
“Not so little anymore. In fact, before I left for Northrend, I named her Sentinel General.”
 
Ysera’s eyes widen at that and Tyrande can’t help but be a little amused by how surprised the Dreamer looks and sounds.
 
“My… little Shandris? General? Really?”
 
Amusement mounting, Tyrande just nods some more.
 
“In truth she hasn’t been little for quite a long time, Ysera. She is over ten thousand years old, just like me.”
 
“Hm. I suppose you’re right… still, it’s good that you have her. And Cenarius and your people. And… even your new allies.”
 
Here Ysera turns contemplative, and Tyrande can’t help but think about the others celebrating outside of the Dragonshrine. Truth be told, when Ysera says ‘new allies’ Tyrande’s mind first goes to Prince Kael’thas and his Blood Elves… but that’s not when the Aspect of Nature is talking about.
 
“I must say, I never expected to see orcs of all things fighting so hard for Azeroth. Especially not after what happened to Alexstrasza. Even still… that Chieftain of theirs. Rognak. He’s special, isn’t he?”
 
Ysera’s tone sounds conversational, but also probing. For a moment, Tyrande wonders if the Dragon Aspect knows about Shandris’ little push… but discards that, figuring it was impossible.
 
“Yes. Very special. Cenarius and I believe his leadership is what singlehandedly kept the orcs from falling back into old habits when they arrived on Kalimdor. Their Warchief, an orc named Thrall, is a good and honorable being… but he is not infallible. And if not for Rognak’s actions, things might have turned out very differently between our two peoples.”
 
Taking this in, Ysera hums for a moment before nodding.
 
“I enjoyed my conversation with the young orc. And as I said before, I do not hold the actions of the few against the many. I believe you when you say the orcs of Kalimdor have been honorable and steadfast allies. I have seen how they fight these past few days, and I have seen their drive to protect Azeroth with my own two eyes. It is why I allowed it when the young Chieftain asked if he and his comrades could learn at the feet of one of my kin.”
 
Tyrande’s eyes widen in surprise at that. That was about the biggest seal of approval that Ysera could grace Rognak and his Warsong Druids with. To learn druidism from a Green Dragon was essentially on par with learning it from Lord Cenarius himself. Which to be fair, many of them had already gotten to do… but there was a difference between the Lord of the Forest and a Green Dragon. Different techniques, to be sure.
 
Depending on what they were taught, Rognak and his fellow orcs would be an even more frighteningly effective force on whatever battlefield they found themselves on next.
 
“That said… my sister still bears the scars of what the Dragonmaw Clan did to her. As such, I believe it would be a good idea for your expedition to depart from Northrend before the Dragon Queen returns from her current trip abroad. I cannot say for sure what Alexstrasza would do if she came back to find my favored people interacting with the kin of those who did her such harm.”
 
Tyrande blinks at that, before blanching as she imagines it. Fully turning towards Ysera, she bows at the waist to the Dragon Aspect.
 
“Thank you for your advice, Lady Ysera. We shall set sail as soon as possible.”
 
But Ysera just laughs and pulls Tyrande up by her shoulders, shaking her head.
 
“It’s alright. The situation is not yet dire. And don’t get me wrong… the valor of your new allies is not in question. I admire what the young Chieftain and his clan have achieved so far.”
 
Ysera keeps on walking and Tyrande follows her, a companionable silence falling between them yet again. Until finally, the Aspect of Dreams breaks it once more.
 
“… I still find myself worrying about you, Tyrande. I understand that it will be some time before you are ready to love again the way you loved Malfurion. Perhaps it will never happen. Even still, we all have our needs, don’t we? Do be sure not to neglect yours.”
 
Tyrande’s eyes damn near bulge out of her skull at THAT insinuation. It was commonly understood but never stated out loud that dragons, the Aspects included, could be somewhat… promiscuous. But even still…
 
“You really DO sound like Shandris now, Ysera.”
 
Far from chagrined or ashamed, Ysera’s eyes twinkle as she chuckles in amusement.
 
“Well. I always did think Shandris was a clever sort.”
 
Before Tyrande can offer up a retort to that, nearby voices catch her ear, distracting her from her conversation with the Dragon Aspect for a moment. Only a moment… and yet, when she turns back to Ysera, the Aspect of Dreams has vanished, disappearing without a trace.
 
Furrowing her brow, Tyrande listens a little more closely… and realizes that Ysera has led them right to that lesson she’d spoken of earlier. She can hear the sound of Nishera’s voice as the Keeper of the Garden teaches Rognak and his fellow Warsong Druids a unique druidic technique. She can hear the excitement in Rognak’s voice and the grumbling in the others as he manages to learn what Nishera is teaching far faster than they do, the prodigy that he is.
 
For a brief moment, Tyrande hesitates. Then, she lets her feet carry her closer. Just to watch, of course.

-x-X-x-

“Well done, Chieftain. You picked up that technique with startling speed.”
 
As the Emerald Dragonshrine’s Garden Keeper bows her head in his direction, the other Warsong Druids around him all grumble a little bit.
 
“Hmph, to be expected of the Chieftain.”
 
“Is there anything he can’t pick up fast?”
 
“He’s always been like this. Way too fast on the uptake…”
 
Letting out a sheepish laugh, Rognak rubs the back of his head as he weathers the glares of his fellow orcs. Not that they really mean them to be fair. In fact, when one looked at it, the progress that each of his students, his ‘Warsong Druids’ had made in their short time as stewards of nature was nothing less than exemplary and prodigal in their own right.
 
They hadn’t even been druids for a full year yet, and yet look at the things they’d achieved in that time. Even still, when compared to Rognak himself, well…
 
“Ah, thank you Garden Keeper. I’ve always been a quick learner.”
 
Learning was fun. Learning something you were naturally gifted at and thus picked up in a fraction of the time it would otherwise take you to assimilate it was even funner. When Nishera had said she had something to teach him and his fellows, Rognak and quite a few Warsong Druids had immediately broken off from the festivities in order to learn from the Green Dragon. And not a one of them regretted it, certainly not him.
 
Though-
 
“Garden Keeper.”
 
Blinking, Rognak finds himself taken out of his inner thoughts, turning to see Tyrande Whisperwind on the edge of the clearing. Despite addressing Nishera first, the High Priestess of Elune has eyes only for him. Nishera, meanwhile, turns and nods her head.
 
“High Priestess.”
 
“… I have need of the Chieftain. May I take him off your hands?”
 
Need of him? Whatever for? Rognak can’t help but blink again, even as Nishera waves a hand in response.
 
“He already has the basics of what I was teaching mastered. At this point he will likely only be a disruption to this class if he remains. Please, feel free.”
 
And suddenly, just like that, Rognak finds himself traded from one woman to the other without so much as a ‘by your leave’ or either of them asking him what HE would have preferred. Not that he minded all that much. As he walks away from his fellows over to Tyrande, he can’t deny that his curiosity is piqued. But rather than say anything to him, Tyrande just gives him a nod and turns away, leading him out of the clearing.
 
Rognak follows her in silence, quietly wondering what this is even all about. But it seems like she wants to tell him in private, so he stays quiet as they traverse the Emerald Dragonshrine. It really isn’t anything like he remembers from his second life. It’s much larger than the ‘video game’ made it out to be and filled with winding twisting paths through overgrown foliage.
 
Not that Rognak is in any danger of getting lost. He would be a poor excuse for a druid if that could happen. Regardless, they eventually arrive at their destination it seems, because Tyrande leads him to a small hollow hidden beneath a massive tree. When she turns to face him, Rognak finds himself going still at the look in her eyes.
 
“… No doubt my daughter has spoken to you about what she would have you and I do together.”
 
Rognak swallows hard, wondering for a moment if Tyrande has brought him here to kill him. Okay, so maybe that’s a little silly… but forgive him, because he’s certainly not expecting what actually happens next. That is… the High Priestess of Elune reaches up and pulls down one side of her dress… and then the other, exposing more and more of her elven flesh than Rognak is anticipating, by far.
 
“I understand that Shandris has only my best interests in heart. She is a dutiful daughter, isn’t she?”
 
The words won’t come out of his mouth as Tyrande Whisperwind of all people strips naked before him. When Shandris had first brought up the idea and Tyrande had quickly left the area, Rognak had been amused at his night elf lover’s expense, he wouldn’t lie. The very idea that someone like Tyrande would go for someone like him… it was ludicrous.
 
And yet…
 
“Understand this, Chieftain. I am not looking for someone to replace my lost mate. You are not Malfurion Stormrage. But… you impressed my daughter enough to keep her coming back for more. So I am offering you the chance to impress me as well. Physically. No more than that. If that is not good enough for you, speak and this will end now.”
 
End now? After she’s already shown him everything? Still, Rognak is an orc at the end of the day. More than that… Shandris had made him promise he would take the opportunity, especially if it showed up right in front of him. Instead of speaking, he merely nods, giving his assent as Tyrande watches him. Seeing this, the High Priestess perks up… and moves.
 
Tyrande stalks over to him, wearing her nudity like she’s completely clothed, as imperious as he’s ever seen her, as composed and graceful as she’s ever been around him. Her hand comes up and presses into his chest, and she slowly turns him around with that palm, making him walk back deeper into the undergrove, past her discarded dress.
 
The grass disappears, to be replaced solely by freshly churned, dark soil. His heavy feet push into it, but its not muddy… its earthy and strong.
 
At a certain point, Tyrande decides they’ve gone far enough. The light has dimmed to the point where they would barely be able to see each other if not for their own respective gifts. Rognak has no problem seeing in the dark as a druid truth be told, and he somehow imagines that the Moon Goddess doesn’t allow her Chosen to go blind in darkness either.

Regardless, Tyrande’s palm on his chest suddenly becomes a forceful push, and Rognak lets it send him to his backside. Sure, he could have planted himself like a damn tree and stood his ground… but he wasn’t looking to push his luck here. If all Tyrande wanted from him was physical pleasure, than that was what he would give her.
 
It was the least he could do, considering he still blamed himself at least partially for both Malfurion and Illidan’s deaths. Not to mention, Shandris had asked it of him.
 
Landing on his back in the soft soil of the undergrove, Rognak grunts, watching as Tyrande moves over him, straddling his tree-trunk waist. Crouching down, the naked Night Elf reaches for his robes, pulling them open and removing his loincloth. Rognak isn’t ashamed of his body’s reaction as his throbbing, green, orcish cock comes flying up right off the bat, already well on its way to full mast. His huge dick stands up almost perfectly straight with only a slight droop that is rapidly being corrected moment by moment.
 
But then to be fair… you try staying soft when Tyrande Whisperwind herself strips naked right in front of you and then propositions you for some no strings attached, no emotions, no love type monkey sex.
 
To her credit, Tyrande barely misses a beat. While she does pause for a moment at his size, the High Priestess quickly rallies, kneeling down and straddling his legs as she takes his cock in both hands. Her eyes glow slightly in the darkness of the hollow, and Rognak can see the way her lips quirk up into something of a smirk.
 
“This monster has been inside of my adoptive daughter and Lady Proudmoore, has it? It’s a wonder that either of them still lives…”
 
Rognak flushes at Tyrande’s praise. Never in a million years did he think that he would have Elune’s High Priestess complimenting his dick size. And yet, here they are. Frankly, he’s wondering if Tyrande is going to need any… help getting ready for him. How is she possibly going to get wet enough to take his cock inside of her?
 
Visions of the High Priestess suddenly turning around and plopping her cunt down on his face before ordering him to lick dance through his head for a moment. If Tyrande actually decides to engage him in a sixty-nine, he just might die from shock.
 
… But no, that doesn’t happen. Nor does she put his cock anywhere near her mouth. Instead, after stroking him contemplatively for a few moments, the High Priestess suddenly lifts herself up, using his dick to balance herself. Then, she places his tip against her slit. Rognak’s eyes widen at just how wet he finds her.
 
For Tyrande to be this aroused at this point, she would have had to have been getting progressively more and more turned on all the way here. She would have had to have been dripping even back when she called him out of Nishera’s impromptu class and asked for his time.
 
Rognak opens his mouth to speak, but once again finds himself speechless as Tyrande suddenly drives herself down onto his cock, taking over half of his member inside of her in one go. He punches up into her of HER volition, even as her breath hitches, the air driven from her lungs. Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t speak. It’s like Tyrande said. There’s not supposed to be any love here. He’s not replacing her mate.
 
Purely physical sex. That’s what she wanted. Well, Rognak could give her that. He was happy to give her that in fact.
 
As she begins to ride him, Rognak finally acts, reaching up and grabbing the High Priestess by her hips. For a moment, Tyrande’s eyes snap to his, glaring at him… but then she relaxes and lets out a shuddering sigh.
 
“No… kissing. Understood?”
 
Grunting, Rognak nods. Tyrande smiles at that, and then moans when he thrusts up into her from below, causing her entire body to bounce and jolt on his cock. She might be the High Priestess of Elune, but she’s also a huntress, with just as much Sentinel Training as any other. Her body is a mixture of soft and hard, of womanly and athletic. Her breasts, sizable and eternally perky, bounce up and down with his thrusts. Meanwhile, her abdomens flex, her definition visible even in the low light as she gasps and groans… and moans.
 
Tyrande Whisperwind moans as Rognak fucks her from below and she rides him towards an indeterminate goal. She moans out words, her eyes fluttering as she shudders atop him.
 
“Three… thousand years… mm, ah…”
 
Rognak wonders if she meant to say that out loud. He’s certainly not going to call her out on it though, no sir. Instead he keeps quiet and continues fucking her from below, until Tyrande suddenly leans forward, pressing her hands into his chest, raking her nails along his pectorals and howling as she cums at long last, an explosive orgasm that wracks her entire body.
 
The High Priestess of Elune positively SHRIEKS as she climaxes all over his cock and Rognak goes still for a moment to let her enjoy the experience and to also give her time to recover. She shudders… and then just as soon as it’s started, her orgasm is over and she begins riding him again, though at an even more frantic pace than before.
 
“Three… three thousand years since I laid with my beloved. Three thousand years since I felt a lover’s t-touch.”
 
Her nails dig harshly into his flesh, drawing blood as Rognak grunts beneath her. Tyrande’s eyes snap wide open, and she looks him directly in the eye.
 
“… Malfurion asked that I try not to be alone. He asked me to shed no further tears for him. And yet… this still feels like a betrayal.”
 
Something in Tyrande’s face twists and she snarls. For a moment, Rognak doesn’t know if she’s going to attack him or flee the scene. In the end though, it’s neither. The High Priestess’ shoulders slump and she hangs her head for a moment before leaning forward even further, until he thinks she might break her own rule and kiss him after all. But she doesn’t do that, for all that their mouths are mere centimeters apart by the time she’s stopped moving.
 
“… I want you to take me like a beast all night long, Chieftain. I want you to make it hurt. Do you think you can do that for me?”
 
It’s only then as she’s slamming her hips down on his cock with a gusto, that Rognak fully understands just how damaged Tyrande truly is. And he worries that he might be compounding that hurt. But he also fears what rejection might do to her at this juncture. She needs someone to be with her tonight, to make sure she doesn’t do anything untoward now that the Lich King is dead.
 
That someone, it would seem, is going to be Rognak. And if he doesn’t do as she says, he worries that she might drive him away.
 
Well… he IS an orc, isn’t he? With a lustful growl, Rognak turns the tables, flipping them over. Tyrande gasps as she lands on her back against the soft earth beneath her, Rognak suddenly towering over her and pinning her down. His hands grab her legs and push them up into the air, his cock driving deeper into her drooling quim without hesitation.
 
As Tyrande cries out, tossing her head back and arching her spine, Rognak growls as he reaches out and grasps one of her tits, giving it a good, hard squeeze. She wanted rough? He could do rough.
 
“Your wish is my command, Priestess.”
 
His gruff tone makes her shudder as she looks up at him with lidded eyes, anticipating what comes next. Rognak, for his part… doesn’t hold back. He fucks Tyrande into the dirt. There’s no other word for it, really. Plow? Meh. Rail? Sure. Pound? Of course. But in the end, the only true way to say it is the simplest way of all. He FUCKS her.
 
And Tyrande takes every bit of it, taking every inch of his orcish cock into her clenching quim. She cums for him again and again, and when HE cums, deciding to spray his seed all over her body rather than risk creampieing her, she takes that too. Then, they keep fucking.
 
They fuck and fuck and fuck all night long, just as she asked of him. He fucks her on her back, he fucks her on her side, he even fucks her face down in the dirt as she cries out in an ugly manner and begs him for more. He follows her order and avoids kissing. And he ruts her like a beast, just as she begged of him.
 
He knows she’s using him as little more than a big, fat, orcish meat dildo. He’s stress relief at the end of the day. Rognak doesn’t mind it all that much though. Tyrande needs this. Or at least, she needs something. Hopefully this helps in some way. Hopefully HE helps in some way. As she said, he has no shot of replacing her mate of ten-thousand years.
 
But he doesn’t need to. He’s more than happy being Tyrande Whisperwind’s orcish fuck buddy… whenever she has need of him and his big fat green cock.

-x-X-x-

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