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Tybalt, the Paladin of love, stands before Michlah, the traveler afflicted with lycanthropy, hands upon his waist, smiling down at the shorter male. “Are you truly curious about my holy sword?"

Michlah gulps, staring at the cloth hanging at the knight's waist. “Is that really what you call your dick?"

Tybalt chuckles, running one hand over his hair. “You make it sound silly when you say it aloud like that."

“That's because it is silly! It's a penis, a phallus, a cock. Not a sword."

“Every knight needs his trusted weapon."

“As if a penis is a weapon. It's a tool for pleasure."

“Every knight needs his tools," Tybalt retorts.

Michlah snorts. If I go feral on you and become a werewolf, you may have to use that thing to calm me down. Or is what I heard in my travels, a farce, a meme?

“No, you're correct," Tybalt says. “I can pacify many a monster with my hands and my weapon, and it may come to pass that I'll have to use this on you as well."

“Then… shouldn't I get used to it?"

“You make a compelling question," says Tybalt. “Perhaps some familiarity wouldn't hurt.

“Wouldn't you turn into a werewolf yourself?"

Tybalt's fingers play with the strings that hold up the sash. “Oh, you need not worry about that. My sacred vows and the holy magics of knighthood keep me from being afflicted with any venereal disease."

“But this is a curse!"

“You're correct. That is why I shall also apply a warding measure upon myself before we become intimate. Both should be fine preventions on their own, but there is one thing you should know: you can never be too careful when it comes to your health."

“I can teach you a simple spell of protection that should help cover the basics, but it requires some practice to get it down correctly."

Michlah gulps, eyes up and down and then up again. “Well, then, may I see it?"

“Yes, you may," Tybalt says, slipping his hands up his sides, over his chest, and then out, stretching wide as if ready to embrace Michlah. “If you want to reveal it, you shall do so."

“You t-tease," Michlah grumbles. His head pounds as he quickly steps up, his bare feet sliding against the cold stone floor. Soon, his fingers reach up to Tybalt's sides, trembling as they slip around the straps and strings that hold the cloth up around Tybalt's waist.

“Someone's excited," Tybalt sighs.

“S-shut up, I got this!" Michlah says.

“How high is your anticipation, Michlah?"

Michlah pauses, closing his eyes and pursing his lips together. “Fuck it all…" he grumbles, tugging the string loose!

The fabric falls from Tybalt's thighs, landing on the floor by his armored feet in a neat little pile. Underneath that cloth is the famous sword of the paladin of love.

It is massive, much longer than it is wide, but still of oppressive and perhaps intimidating length. It is the largest that Michlah has ever seen, outside the sizes seen on the more giant races. The shaft is as smooth as the rest of Tybalt's body, whether meticulously maintained or naturally bare from his elven heritage. It hangs low, but in its revelation and in Michlah's admiring of it, it soon peeks to life.

“Ah!"

Michlah stumbles back, hands clasped over his mouth, his eyes glimmering in the spectacle of its magnificence. “In… incredible…"

“It can be a bit much for someone to see at first," Tybalt admits, “But I've come to accept such reactions."

“No wonder you can bed monsters with this thing!" Michlah says. “Is this a trait that all knights of love share? A prerequisite to taking the oath is to have such anatomy? Or is this something you gain upon your initiation into the order?"

Tybalt shakes his head. “No. This is something I inherited from my…" he shakes his head. “No, it is of no concern. Please, do you wish to examine it closer?"

Michlah squats before him, eyes crotch-level to the paladin, licking his lips. “And, uh… did you cast a protection spell?"

Taking two fingers into his mouth, the paladin sucks on them momentarily, pulling them back, a spit dangling between lips and fingertips. He then presses those fingers to the base, sliding it along the tip as he motions his other hand up and down without touching it. He speaks in the ancient language of the gods of good, and soon, a slight humming glow permeates the penis.

“My cock is consecrated, so such precautions are not necessary. But that is the spell you would need to perform to protect yourself. An easier version is available to those not so gifted in holy magic."

“I… I see…" Michlah says, nodding. He reaches up. “And now, even if I were to chomp down on you, you wouldn't be affected by lycanthropy."

“Please don't bite me, Michlah," Tybalt says. “That would be most unappreciated. Unless you think it would relieve your stress."

“No, this is good enough for now," Michlah says, wrapping his fingers around the base of that shaft. Even engorged with blood, it flops down from the weight of it. The younger male has to step back a few steps to keep it from smacking him in the face.

“Will you enjoy it?" Michlah asks.

“Only if you know you cannot let me finish without consequence," Tybalt says. “My seed is only for the most potent of cleansing rituals. I shall use it on your wolf form if necessary."

'That's okay," Michlah says, gulping. “It's the feeling of a hot dick in my mouth I like the most."

And with that, he presses his lips to the tip, suckling upon it, sighing in delight at the prominent meaty member of the kind and gentle stranger. A moment later, a firm, gentle hand rests upon the top of his head, and he feels at peace with himself for the first time since becoming a curse.