Night time. Just like any night time in this dodgy city. Streets flooded with residents and little shacks settling transactions back and forth. A standard night in downtown. At the end of the day, most people would forget yesterday existed. For Zon'Gi, the atmosphere is perfect for his job. He was amazed he managed to enter with his link chain belt on his person. 

It was simple; apprehend the target, seize the key and 'deprive him of his space until five in the morning'. Even that wording threw him off, and when he asked for further specifics, the response from the contact was mute. At least the pay was good. He'd just have to think of something creative in the moment.

The lounge is spacious; enough room to hold down few under hundred people with black walls with green and purple tones around the room. The booths occupied the north and western walls, shaped in a half-circle with tables in the middle, dimly lit with a candle on top. With strobe lights looming over the dance floor, there was a level dedicated to lounging area four steps above the floor between the entrance and the dance floor. On the north-eastern corner of the club, two restrooms observable from the tables. A fusion of EDM and Jazz rocks the lounge. The outfits ranged from gang wear to borderline ritzy. Above the booths is a private floor, reserved for the VIPs.

Zon'Gi was sitting in the lounge, darting his eyes through the crowd while he sips his ale. He had to watch carefully. There were many heads walking about. Even if  he had to keep an eye on a goblin, it was hard to keep an eye on details. At least there were some things he had to keep an eye on; gold bands wrapped around the outer ear lobes extending from the tips down to the base, a monocle and a penchant for waistcoats. Rezzit was his name. 

The wait was tiresome; One hour turned into five drinks. Chilled and dry, like his poisonous blood. No rocks. A smooth swallow down the hatch with a burning sensation traveling down the gullet. No wobbles. Yet. Good.

Finally, the man of the hour arrives from the upper floors, escorted by two orcs on both sides. The one on the right was clearly the superior; about seven feet tall with a black tee, chitin brass knuckles, a gold chain necklace and a plated bracer on the right. The other orc dons a red vest over a black short-sleeve. The goblin had his left ear pierced one long gold band until it outlined the entire earlobe. The index, middle and ring fingers were bound in tungsten rings on the left hand, and a glove on the right. No hair found on him beyond his thick black brows. His golden eyes were fixated on the bathroom before them. Finally, a black waistcoat over a white dress shirt. The monocle was missing, but he fitted the rest of the description alright. All three make their way to the male rest room. He surveys the area once more before finishing the last glass, pushing the door open. 

The bathroom is larger than he realized. Four toilet stalls with turnable locks from the inside. A urinal wall takes place next door to the left, extending to the farthest corner of the wall with a pipe on the ground expelling the urine.  No barriers were present on the wall, though the disposed urine travels through a pipe on the ground, exiting through the far corner. The miasma of piss, musk, tobacco and shit looms over the occupants. Graffiti and scratchfiti liter the porcelain walls and floors. A large-sized vent occupies the ceiling, doing little to filter the scents. Not that Zon’Gi minded anyway.

The larger orc was taking a piss on the urinal while the other lounges on the sink, staring at the age-stained mirror. He glances at the troll before turning back to the mirror, tapping his chin in ignorance. The goblin was in one of the stools, constantly tapping on something. Likely a phone, the troll thought. Positioning couldn’t be any perfect, he thought.

The troll unhooks the torus link from his waist. Those metal links cling on top of another. The sound was loud enough to rouse attention from the smaller orc, springing up only to see the troll sealing the door. 

“Oi! Da fuck ya doin’?”

The troll turns around, letting his pants slightly hang to the right. “Jus’ closin’ off da pig pen for da night!”

“What’s goin’ on, Gark?” The larger orc zips to the junior’s side only to come face first to a red brick breaking on contact, leaving behind dust & a rapidly swollen face. 

Gark turns to his superior’s direction after the fact, quickly realizing the damage. “Shit! Mak!” Gark quickly turns to the troll and rushes to him, throwing a right hook. Zon-Gi ducks under the punch, steps around to the right and shoves his foot behind the orc’s knee, forcing Gark to bend down far enough for Zon-Gi’s right knee and elbow to collide the smaller orc’s head. Blood bursts through the forehead, falling along with that lumbering green body.

Zon’Gi shrugs, turning only to be gored to the wall by Mak’s solid head, forcing the air out of the troll. Before the troll could squirm away, the orc rams his skull in again. Zon’Gi’s torso dwells in soreness after the the third time. 

The moment Mak revs up for a forth hit, the troll kicks his feet from the wall and launches his knee to the incoming charge. Mak groans in pain, his weakened grip slipping off the troll’s waist as he stumbles away towards the stalls.

Blurred, he smacks himself to focus. Zon’Gi throws more kicks at the orc, but the orc quickly brushes them away as he retreats to the open space. In the withdrawal, Mak reaches for his boots and draws out carbon steel knife.  Vision cleared, he steps forward and swings the blade. Dodging was effortless for the troll until Zon’Gi’s roar confirms the skin-tearing slash down his chest. 

The orc steps forward and thrusts the blade towards the troll’s stomach once more. The troll sidesteps towards the right and smashes his right elbow towards the orc’s temple. His left knee caves into the orc’s sternum, forcing him to drop the knife. Zon fires a slew of blows over that bloody face until the orc craters the floor.

Zon’Gi checks the orc’s internals. Lowered heart rate, snorted breathing, twitching muscles. No fractured bones. Damn, he thought.  The troll smears his finger with his blood and rests them under the orc’s tongue. The blood takes seconds to enter the salivary duct. The troll switches focus as soon as he hears the leftmost stall opens.

Rezzit pads out with a phone in hand. Wireless earbuds blare with drums and guitars coalesced into a rampant rhythm. He turns to the right to see the troll looming over the fallen orcs. Their eyes meet only for a second. The troll waves. The goblin returns it hesitantly and turns away, seeing the doors barred by the chains. 

He was stiff. Lips reeled into his mouth. Sweat seeping out of his skin. Instinctively, he turns around only to see two golden eyes staring right back at him with a smile wide enough to peak his cheeks.  

“Hi” is the last thing the goblin hears from that gnarly, raspy throat before he’s picked up by the collar and held up by the neck with the troll’s forearm. His constant flailing and kicks proved to be futile, only to be stopped with a bloody finger dripping in front of him. 

“Hey! What’s da bi-” Those fingers shoves knuckle down in Rezzit’s mouth, smearing the blood behind the throat. Zon’Gi snorts as the goblin bites down, but only to be treated with more blood down the hatch. He coughs immediately, prompting a quick withdrawl of Zon’Gi ‘s digits while being lowered to the floor. By then, the goblin struggles to walk away.

Each step was heavier than the previous, with the vibrations traveling from foot to throbbing head. His esophagus condenses and dries up in a moment’s time. His fuzzy vision degrades to a blurred split, and his heart threatens to break through his chest soon if he didn’t drink anything. Luckily, the vanity’s a foot shorter than he is. He opens the cold water valve and water gushes forth. The goblin extends his hand to the faucet. Almost there…

Just as the water touches his hands, he was grabbed by the shoulder and turned around to collide into a pair of dense, musky mounds. His mouth shifts in protest, but without the strength to withdraw, he only did much but mildly taste the vent. It was sweaty, and he wanted to pull away. But the troll didn’t let up. Arching his head back, the troll lets out a sigh as a steady, golden liquid enters the goblin’s mouth. Upon immediate taste, the goblin sputters around and claws the troll’s waist as he tries to pull away. It was fruitless. The harsh, golden liquid washes the dry throat, but it leaves behind a harsh, metallic aftertaste, practically scratching the esophagus. Once Zon’gi removes his hand, the goblin falls down, softening his fall with his shoulder. The urine runs down his lips and chest, drenching his vest.

The goblin didn’t know how to feel. One hand, he was feeling hydrated, but damn did he feel insulted. His heart was still pounding, but not as intense as before. Heat flushes his skin. Sweat breaks the pores and goosebumps rushes through his body. Before long, he falls victim to the tingles. His erection fills the trousers of no will of his own. 

Forehead matted in sweat and piss, the goblin only manages to crawl away from the troll to the plain end of the wall, wet vest and shirt hanging under his shoulders with his chest and stomach exposed.  The troll sneers, crawling to his prey until he looms over the hazed goblin in a foot length gap.  His hands pull the trousers by the rim, the goblin’s hefty erection flicking his nose. A sheen of precum laminates the plum crown with a bead hanging off the piss slit. After a brief measure, the goblin might be ten inches long with two inches of girth. A big goblin. Nice. 

The troll’s tongue traces the bulging vein from the shaved base to the tip. It slithers under the length, sealing those lips around the root. In clasp, his lips draw the foreskin out of the flesh until it lids the throbbing tip. He peels that banana and closes his mouth over the crown as he pumps the shaft. The goblin writhes profusely, his hands doing little to push the troll off his cock. His neural activity was bombarded with arousal and adrenaline. Exhales hiss through his gritting teeth. Legs splayed wide, ceasing to tense as his nuts were cradled in the troll’s digits, squeezed and tugged with juices brimming in the green cauldron. 

The goblin’s yell signals his surrender as quick jolts of seed shoots out, painting Zon’s mouth in pearly white shades, increasing in hue and thickness per shot. The troll savors each thick wad in swallows. Three times his mouth was filled to the brim. No drop was wasted. Zon cleans the tip. A quick release, he thought. A symptom. He withdraws from the green pillar, leaving the owner in a heaving, sweating lapse. 

The vent on the ceiling was reachable. One jump up and he’d reach in no time. He didn’t take the time to check the orc’s bodies though. He turns back to the corpses and rummages through the clothes.  Two watches, phones, cash cards. Their shoes might’ve been valuable if all it wasn’t scuffed by blood already. He looks back at the goblin. He was still recovering. That shaft is still pointing to the heavens. He looks back to his loot. He removes the SIM cards from the phones, cuts off the connection and pockets everything in his fallen trousers. He did another round of searching until he was completely satisfied. 

It’s been almost ten minutes since he left the goblin alone. One look and the goblin is still trying to draw lightning to him. The poison kept him sluggish, but aware. Probably afraid to move. Zon moves closer and checks the goblin’s pulse. Still high, but not near cardiac arrest. Good. 

Zon squats on the rigid pillar, pursing those lips around the purple crown. Clitoral hood rests on the peak. He squirms, letting out a sharp huff as goosebumps raise from the leg up. The moment he plunges down, the girth seers into the vaginal walls, stretching the limits. One knock against the womb and goosebumps rush through that body. Nerves stick out of the outer walls of his skin. Juices flow out of the crammed lips, drenching the goblin’s dick and lap whole. All that ready to get his thighs ready for the plunging.  That body-engulfing warmth only lasted briefly.

Another burst of warmth blasts his cervix. Zon is puzzled. The poison should’ve tapered off to the minimal effects by now, so the goblin should have no hair trigger. The blast remains constant, filling him with a queer warmth. It tags his cervix, coaxing a moan out from him until a golden wash bursts out of the wanton enclosure. It reeks of a metallic tinge, flooding the ceramic floor under them. 

Anger seers into Zon’s face, gritting teeth grinds as his lucrid eyes beam at the goblin. His shit-eating grin let the troll know that he hit the jackpot. 

“That’s whatcha get, ya fuggin’ freak.” The troll’s face turns deadpan, clasping around the goblin’s right bicep. The goblin’s grin dissipates into a concerned frown, attempting to pull away from the tightening grip. 

“H-hey, wait…, I didn’t mean it. No no no oh no stop!” The more he struggled, the sinews tear and bruise, and his yells grew louder. “Stop! Please!” Tears roll from his ducts. “I-I’ll give you money!”

That was enough to have him stop twisting. His eyes shift to the bicep, scowling at the dark bruising in the grip.  That’ll be a hit in his pockets for sure. The goblin’s relief was only brief, as his elated expression shifts into a defensive startle once the troll starts bouncing on the goblin’s dick. Taut thighs ripple on the soaked lap, wet folds clamping on the rigid member. Each descent delivers aftershock from those fat cheeks, emitting a sloppy clap in confirmation. The goblin remains hyper-vigilant, panting through his teeth while bracing his feet into the piss-soaked ceramic floor. Good thing he wasn’t doing the work this time.

Zon slams those glutes on Rezzit’s lap. The piss-soaked clam kisses deep into the root and pubes. His mouth breaks out a guttural snarl over the goblin’s right ear. His tongue dips in the inner ear. Rezzit rolls his eyes into the back of his head, unable to resist the ministrations upon his ear. His chest dampens as air escapes from him, mouth agape and his tongue rolled over the edge. Zon’s lips purse over the ears, sucking the pointed ear as he continues to ride. Then teeth comes nibbling on the sensitive cartilage, coaxing shivers out of Rezzit’s mouth. The goblin’s legs give, eyes opening up in worry, face bathed in arousal and the wafting piss scent. 

Once they drop, the troll hooks his index finger into the gold band loop, threateningly tugging the band. Pain surges through the sensitive ear as Rezzit attempts to pull away. It only encouraged the troll to pull further. Panic flushes the goblin’s nerve down to his rigid cock, crammed by the ribbed vaginal walls. The poison was amplifying everything. His mouth was tightly sealed in each descent delivered all up until the troll’s canine pierces through the ear.

Rezzit’s yelp escapes him as he bucks in, head penetrates the cervix as his cock pumps white, pungent strings inside the womb, mingling with the goblin’s urine. Low rumbles echo in the the goblin’s ear. Zon’s hips remain planted, siphoning the cream as his tongue licks the puncture. Rezzit’s sac haunches against those moist lips in each release, groaning through his gritting teeth. The womb could not contain it all, forcing the pressure to explode from the deposit.  As the goblin inhales, the troll unhooks the gold band from the left ear and peels it off after the exhale, securing in a tight fist. After the troll’s withdrawl, Rezzit’s  vision blurs, splitting into two.

“Hope yer fuckin’ happy, ya totem fucker.” Rezzit tiredly spits out, face baked in sweat and musk. “Imma getcha back n’ bore ya a new pussy, babyshit.” Another wave of musk hits his nostrils as the grey dimmed light of the bathroom is replaced by a splotch of brown and white. “Betta kill me while ya c-” His head is lifted into the cream-filled snatch, his long nose penetrates the vent as the troll unloads the rank, amber chowder on the goblin’s face, filling the holes. He screams into the cunt, rubbed vigorously into the folds as the troll’s nails dig into the bald head. Another wave of juices floods the goblin’s face, muddled with the cream as the troll  elicits his sigh of relief. Zon tosses the goblin off his pussy. Rezzit tumbles once before he collides against the floor, hacking and wheezing as his head and back lands against the wall. 

Fervent banging and creaking begins to rock the door. Zon quickly turns to his belongings and puts on his pants. The chains begin to rattle and crack, giving way. After pocketing  the band, the troll jumps straight into the vent. The moment the door breaks open,  two burly golems catch the scene of two fallen orcs in the pool of their own blood while the goblin lays unconscious in the pool of piss and seed. Soon, the club-goers comes pouring in, taking pictures of the scene.

Zon’Gi leaves the shower after a half-hour shower, padding out in the nude as the air dries his body. His phone vibrates on the dresser, flooded with images of the orcs on the stretcher and a video of Rezzit, covering himself from the camera flashes as he stumbles away.