Elves were keen of touch, hearing and sight, famed for their fantastic sensitivity, but the orcs too were a perceptive breed, in their own way. Though his calloused hands were not made for delicate handiwork, and his eyes better suited to tracking the motions of a foe in battle than seeing for miles, there was not a hound on the world with a sense of scent so precise and potent as that of an orc. His tongue flicked against the roof of his mouth, gathering the taste of the air against the organ there, refining his perception of the fragrances taken in with every breath. Over the pervasive scent of the water and rising damp, and his own bestial musk, which he had long ago learned to tune out, he could taste the elves, each one unique and exquisite. His little Doshvin smelt of blood and arousal, fresh cuts, bruises and scrapes, awakened desire. The other was ripe with the odour of her fear, making his heart quicken, to send dark blood coursing through his veins, to engorge the hulking rod of flesh that hung between his thighs.<br/><br/>Fear was not simply an aphrodisiac to his breed, it was an addiction. They were bred to be sadistic, to take delight and fulfillment in the anguish and agony of their prey, to feed on suffering and sorrow. A low, rumbling snarl, such as belonged more to a beast of the hunt than to anything that might resemble a man, issued forth from the orc. Turning his head, his hand rose, eclipsing Doshvin's where it lay upon his shoulder, trailing down along her arm to mimic the action, his fingers curling around her dainty throat. He rather liked the taste of elf flesh, it made a fine meat, butchered and seared or torn hot and fresh from the living form, drawing his pet closer, his muzzle rubbing along her slender jaw, a rough, rasping tongue slipping out to graze over the all too sensitive, tapered ear, teasing up along to the pointed tip. "Good Doshvin. Show your master how you love him." His lips hummed against her ear with the power of his booming voice.<br/><br/>Slowly he turned his head, fixing the other with his amber glare, lips quirked into a mocking grin, baring tusks and fangs. "You sound like a rabbit, ensnared and yet offering to leap in the pot if only it is freed." He thought it hardly a mystery, to know what he wanted, orcish motivations were a part of the fabric of the being, they were all brothers, of the one blood and the one drives. "Why should I not break you, hmm? What use have I for one who quails from me, ever seeking to flee, while my dear Doshvin comes all too happily? What proof have I of your obedience, or desire to serve?"