Don't Trust a Troll

Atal belongs to Jaded Dragon as Jazlok to myself. Dragon is totally awesome though, and these are the two fics that birthed the sexiness that is Atal:

http://games.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600084260 (Of Age and Innocence)
http://games.adult-fanfiction.org/story.php?no=600084514 (Tryst)

Here is a pic of the scene at the end:

http://dragonchan.deviantart.com/art/Pokey-Face-133034942

Jaz and Atal aren't related.

She also helped me a bit with Atal's character and stuff. He was too much troll for my brain to comprehend!

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It had been a peaceful night, originally. Noth had to wonder, in her fairly plastered mind, what had made everything go wrong?

"Dis be my signature move, mon!" came a very animate voice. "Trollkick! To da face!"

And then, after getting thrown back from the impact, the orc remembered. "Jazlok, you bitch!"

Before the troll had shown up, Noth had been savoring her hearty meal of, well, meat—all kinds of meat—so many varieties that she couldn't even name them all! Then Jazlok came, and took it upon herself to partake in some of the orc's food.

Then everything went to hell; and Noth ended up staring at the ceiling. She really did need a way to counter the trollkick. Perhaps if she hadn't had a drink… Or two… or five…

Jazlok, grinning broadly with victory, went to return to the trollnapped table only to be tossed to the far end of the room. The orc was apparently not done yet.

"Hee hee hee. Be ya prepared for anotha trollkick, mah porcer!" With that, the rogue leapt through the air in yet another epic kick to the face.

However, in a brief moment of clarity, Noth was able to side-step. She attributed to the fact that the initial kick got her head working against the booze and that Jaz was going at her from a greater distance. Either way, she avoided it. So Jazlok went sailing on by.

Only to crash into an innocent bystander. That sobered her up.

It was at that point that the troll was aware of her surroundings. For the entire duration of her scuffle, she had not been paying attention to the patrons who were hooting and hollering, taking sides, making bets. Or of how absolutely livid Gryshka seemed.

The innkeeper would get over it. She always did.

But man, she really did make a mess this time. A couple of the tables—there weren't many in the first place—had been upturned, chairs were scattered, and food was everywhere. There was even a small crack in the wall she had been thrown at.

And then she spared a glance at the unintended victim that she was still laying on. He was familiar, but she didn't know him. But hey, she saw quite a bit of trolls in Orgrimmar of late! Still, she felt bad, and he wasn't to hard on her half-lidded red eyes, and she kinda wanted more booze…

"Sorry, mon. How 'bout I buy ya a drink?"

After a moment's hesitance, he smirked lasciviously. "Ain't da most clevah' pick up tactic I evah seen, girly, but I'll give."

Jazlok laughed deeply and rolled off of him. It really didn't take her long to figure out that—"You be hopeless! Come, come, les grabba… table."

Half of the tables were still askew, and then she spied the dark-haired orc lazily righting some chairs. Gryshka, the innkeeper, shot the trouble-making troll a steely glare, and thus, Jaz got to work also. "Hurhurhur. A'ight, a'ight! I be good, for tonight."

Though tossing a look at her newfound drinking buddy, she added, "Or perhaps not."

Obnoxious wink included. Jazlok would have called it her "Signature Come Hither Trollwink".

She turned the old, splintered table right side up and proceeded to fall into the seat. From the other side of her came the other troll, "Heh! Yo be so notty and yo don' even know mah name!"

Without missing a beat, she replied," 'Course I know yo name! It be… be… Mistah Hotsauce! Am—"

"—I hate to interrupt," came Noth's baritone. "But I've had enough your shameless flirting. See ya some other night, Bitchlok."

Somewhat taken aback, Hotsauce's red eyes darted from the retreated Noth to the chuckling rogue. "Uh… Yeah. Anyway. Dat not be mah name. I be Atal… Bitchlok?"

"Jazlok."

"Jazlok."

With names firmly in place, Jaz waved her arms emphatically. "Oy! Gryshka! We be wantin' some booze. Give da strongest shit yo have!"

Atal was probably wondering what it was that he was getting into, but at least she had nice…

.

.

.

Several hours and a few too many drinks later, Jazlok had no idea why she was in a dark alley, but she was roughly kissing someone. And she liked it. If her heavily intoxicated mind could focus on more than one action at a time, she'd be giggling like a schoolgirl. There was a lot of feeling and touching, and she realized that both parties still had their clothes on.

That just wouldn't do. No. No. No.

Atal, broke the fervent, gloriously drunk kiss before she could put her plan in motion. He too was equally wasted, as could be seen from the excessive flush to his blue skin. The red haze in his eyes was purely for sex. Well, maybe a bit from heavy drinking, but still. "I hope yo well rested, you're goin' ta need yo strengt'"

It was then that she giggled—squealed like some child—and jumped at him because she was too drunk for words. She nibbled at his neck, lightly licked and chewed at his ear, and didn't particularly care if her tusks scratched him up a bit in the process. The entire action nearly caused him to lose his balance; also something she didn't worry about.

She was too busy trying to get him out of his clothes.

He got her shirt off first, and if she had been able to think more clearly, she'd have suspected him of tearing it. With renewed vigor, she loosened whatever contraptions harnessed his torso and lifted the clothing over his head. Atal pressed in for another aggressive kiss, and Jazlok felt herself squished against the alley's wall. If things continued at this pace, she was going to be on the bottom.

That wouldn't do either. Not one bit.

Using both strength and leverage, she pushed him back. She wanted to be the dominant one—for the beginning, at least. However, she wasn't able to take into consideration that he was nearly shit-faced and, as such, had very little balance. Add to the mix that there was a bit of an incline, and well. Down went Atal. Finally, to make matters worse, her momentum had her close behind.

And then… bad shit happened.

The very likeliness of it occurring shouldn't have been high. But somehow, some way, the angle and descent had been just right. If neither had taken to the bottle, none of this would have transpired. Probably.

From atop him, she withdrew with slight resistance. When she noticed something off with her tusk, she poked it. It was round and white-ish and guishy and kinda warm. It was fascinating. Then she looked at Atal.

A touch of horror mingled with her features. "Don' worry, mon. You be plenty fuckable wit' one eye."