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A Little Less Counselor, A Little More Concubine Part 4 For Fyacin_tia By Draconicon

Fyacin spent a good portion of the mid-morning and the early afternoon recovering from his fall. Nothing serious had been damaged, but the lion complained so loudly that he was carried to the infirmary despite the lack of obvious damage. He was laid in a bed of feathers and down, and he was given pillows of the finest silks.

There he lay for hours, soaking up the sun and savoring the softness beneath him. He smiled, folding his arms behind his head as the sun lazily crossed the sky, nearly as lazily as he spent his day.

Laugh at me all you like, Alys, but if you think that you won this battle, you are most wrong, he thought with a wide smile. You are out there working, and I am here, excused from my duties, and resting in as comfortable a bed as ever there was in the Empire.

Truthfully, the only damage he'd taken had been to his pride, and a small bruise to his tail. The latter would heal quickly, but the former would take some time. The lion already plotted and planned, lazily going through different possible pranks to bring his fellow counselor down a peg or two. He imagined that it would be most interesting to see her be drowned in 'moonlight' as she meditated one night, only to arrive drunk on the 'shine' of the moon when she returned to her quarters. Or perhaps she would enjoy a sudden flight among her precious stars.

They were fun ideas, but merely ideas. For all that he was annoyed at losing the fight, he was still the one to beat. Their master still preferred him, and likely would for many days to come.

The lion's tail twitched back and forth on the bed as he savored the silly images anyway, distracting himself so thoroughly that he almost didn't notice when one of the servants entered his private chamber.

"Great Counselor," a soft rumble of a voice whispered. "I come bearing your medicine."

Medicine? Fyacin cocked an eyebrow, opening one eye to see who had intruded on him.

To his surprise, it was one of the few large species in their mountainous realm, one of the great Mastiffs that guarded the grounds. He must have been assigned here, or been taken off-duty due to an injury or something along those lines. The great beast had a mane of fur around his neck that rivaled a lion's mane, and the dark brown fur was broken up with occasional flashes of gold near the chest and along his exposed belly.

Fyacin sat up, his eyes flicking up and down the muscular canine's body, taking in the bulges of strong flesh along the bare arms and through the plain trousers that the other man wore. He carried a silver tray in hand, holding out a small sipping cup of something that did look vaguely medicinal.

"I don't suppose you are my medicine and this is merely lubricant?" the lion asked with a smirk.

"I - I am most flattered, sir, but I wouldn't dare touch a counselor and concubine of the emperor."

"Wouldn't you?"

Not that it would be a sufficient tease, he supposed. The lion technically belonged to the Emperor, and his dalliances were only allowed on the sufferance of his master. Going past that, encouraging someone else to take that leap, would be a little bit on the unethical side.

Of course, that hadn't bothered him in the past. But he was still so lazy...

The lion shook his head, taking the sipping cup from the Mastiff's tray. He laid back down, his fingers curled around the base of the vessel, and smiled at the dog servant.

"I will be right as rain shortly, I'm sure. As soon as this agony in my tail is taken care of."

"I was told to give you a massage when you have finished your medicine, Great Counselor. It will soothe the aches you have."

"Mmmm, now that would be a treat."

"If the Great Counselor would roll over, then?"

"Oh, sure, expect me to listen when you talk to me like a mutt."

Despite his comment, he did as he was requested, keeping the medicine in hand as he moved. It wasn't that offensive, after all, and he was looking forward to having those hands rubbing around his back and the base of his tail. Despite not having too serious an injury, a massage was always appreciated, and this Mastiff looked like he knew what he was doing.

He looked at the medicine in the cup, swirling it around like he might have done with some of the Emperor's wine. It was thick and heavy, and he imagined that it would be quite foul to drink. It seldom was better than unpleasant.

Well, at least I can relax afterwards, he thought. Here's to you, Alys, and your eventual flying lessons.

He tossed the medicine back, and immediately regretted it. The taste burned on his tongue and in his throat, and he was reminded of nothing so much as the taste of raw chilies and peppers burning along every inch of his mouth and throat. Groaning, the feline pressed his head down into his pillow, grimacing.

"Gah! Nnngh...Mmmmph!"

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"What is this - mmmph!"

He had to bite his lips as he felt the heat sinking into his lips, rushing up through his nasal passages and down his throat. Every breath felt like he was breathing fire, and he swore that it was spreading through his body, making him sweat through his mane and through his hair. Hissing breaths, quick ones, slow ones, they all hurt, and they all burned.

"What is this medicine?!" he got out as fast as he could, feeling like someone had stuck a lit branch under his tongue.

"I was not told what it is called, Great Counselor. The doctors prepared it for me to bring to you."

"Nnngh. Of course - hsss! Of course they did!"

He should have known. They wanted him up and out of bed again, and that meant making sure that he had to get up to soothe the discomfort this gave him. The lion slammed a fist down in the bed, whimpering into the pillows at the heat.

Thankfully, it was already starting to fade, moving down from his mouth. There was a definite hint of something akin to heartburn, but it was something besides that. Something that warmed him from the core outward, settling in just under his skin, like someone had turned every nerve to its greatest sensitivity.

It seemed particularly strong in his chest, along his thighs, and just -

"Ah!"

Fyacin gasped as the Mastiff laid hands on him, broad hands that felt nearly twice the size of his own rubbing around the base of his tail. It sent little shocks all the way up his spine, and then back down again, and he burrowed his head deeper into his pillow.

It shouldn't...feel...that...good... he thought as he panted. Why...

He gasped again as he felt the Mastiff's fingers sink into his rump cheeks, squeezing them through the robe that he'd been provided. They were thick, strong, and, more important than anything else, squeezing him just enough to make him feel like something else was about to happen.

Every instinct in the lion's body demanded that he push back, to embrace the grip that always meant intimacy, and only the shame of offering himself to a mere canine held him back. He bit the pillow, something that he had never done for anyone else, and held himself as still as possible.

The dog's thumbs rubbed around the base of his tail, slowly massaging the stiff muscles there, working around the bruise that had formed in the fall. He tried to focus on the relaxing pleasure that came with that, but his attention was always ripped away the moment he was conscious of the Mastiff's hands elsewhere. They rubbed, they stroked, they squeezed. Lord in heaven, did they squeeze.

Every touch brought the feeling of fire back, leaving him inflamed, eager. No, not merely eager, but needy, something that he had not felt for years. His seductive ways had imitated it, but not since his first time had he been this hungry to feel something more.

His moans were muffled in the pillow, but they were hardly silent. If the Mastiff heard them, however, he had the sense to be silent, to hold back from judgment. It wasn't much, but it was something. Something that made him feel a little bit better, at least.

As he huffed and puffed into the pillow, the massage continued, rubbing in gentle circles around the base of his tail and his spine. Yet, at the same time, he swore that those thick fingers were gradually making their way further down, rubbing towards his rump, and then -

"Ah!"

He couldn't silence that, the medicine driving him mad with how sensitive it made him. As the thumbs rubbed down, just between the cheeks of his rump, it felt like some brute had grabbed him and forced the cheeks apart. His eyes went wide as he tried to pull them back together, not daring to have his hole exposed to anyone but his master.

Yet, as the Mastiff massaged him, those strong hands took control. He could feel them rubbing him, squeezing him, forcing him to expose himself. The lion tried to speak, but the fire in his flesh denied him words. All he could do was -

"Oooooh..."

"You are...quite sensitive, Great Counselor."

"Mmmph...nnngh!"

All his clever words, all his wit and charm, and they failed him before the touch of a mere dog! He gasped for breath, feeling his cheeks part once more, and this time...this time, the thumbs dipped just a bit lower.

They touched him, alright, and the tips almost seemed to push into him. He swore that the Mastiff was squeezing his rump harder, almost feeling like it was bigger...heftier...in the dog's hands. Impossible, but the warmth, the pressure, the weight back there seemed to grow with each passing second.

It no longer felt like a massage. His rump was parted, held apart, and the heat of another's breath puffed over his exposed hole again and again. Those thumbs pulled and pushed on flesh that had nothing to do with his injury, and yet, the lion could say nothing to stop the Mastiff. All he could do was fight the urge to push back.

One more hot puff across his pucker, and the pressure eased. Fyacin convinced himself that the sudden drop back there was not extra weight on his rump, that it was just him being oversensitive.

Then, he felt something else. Something hot...rigid...and dripping.

"I...could give you an...internal massage, Great Counselor. If you...if you give me permission, I would be most happy to..."

Fyacin could not believe what he was hearing. This had to be a joke, a jest, something to make him blush before everyone that he knew jumped out and laughed at him for even considering something like that. Yet...

Yet, the lion felt a temptation unlike anything that he had ever felt before. His rump burned with a hunger, his hole flexing and puckering even without the thumbs pulling on it. The heat that had concentrated in his rump cheeks had moved south, pushing into that wrinkled bit of flesh, begging to be satiated.

And that shaft felt...good. Hot, large, long...it felt like it could reach places even the Emperor's shaft did not. He could feel it dripping right on the base of his tail, as if it was applying its own medicine.

No one would know. The Mastiff could be banished to other duties, pushed out of the castle to avoid anyone finding out what he'd done. The Emperor wouldn't know that he had given himself so low.

I need it...Oh spirits and gods, I need it...

Fyacin shivered as he arched his back up a bit further, grinding his rump against that rod. That lowly, dog cock that was right at the point of penetrating him. Yet, despite his offer, the Mastiff didn't take it.

Nnngh...

The canine was going to make him say it, wasn't he? He was going to make him say the words to humiliate himself for the rest of his days. Fyacin ground his face into the pillow, cursing his need and whoever had made this medicine and this Mastiff in equal measure, and with rather colorful phrases, for that matter. He'd have to remember some of them.

He opened his mouth -

"Lanar?"

Someone else's voice, someone else's name. The Mastiff pulled back, and just like that, the shaft that would have relieved him was removed. Fyacin wanted to scream, and he nearly did, at least as much from the sudden chill on his hole as from the sudden removal of relief.

"I must continue my rounds, Great Counselor," the Mastiff said. "I will return later, if you are still here."

"Mmmph..."

The dog left, and the lion was once more alone, basking in sunlight that sent tingles through his whole body. He rolled onto his back ever so slowly, hissing at the oversensitivity of his skin. Grasping the pillow behind his head, he lifted it over his face, stared at it for a moment, then dropped it.

"MMMMMMMMMPH!"

He spent the next minute screaming into his pillow, as angrily and loudly as one could manage.

The End