FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In my mind's eye, I'd always see Port Ronald for what it should have been.

The beacon of the Eastern Isles. A stopping point for ships travelling the vast trade routes from both ends of the known world. A jewel in the rough, where the likes of Vernacká, Palpris, or the Isle of Sommét could not compare themselves to. Prosperous by lax tax laws and the wealth of free trade, all under the watchful eye of the Empire. Spice was almost as valuable as gold.

Somewhere deep in my conscience, Port Ronald would always be that painting-perfect harbor town, where one couldn't look five feet without seeing something new, or interesting, or downright exotic. The vibrant colours... the wonderful smells...

But for as much as I wanted to see it as that, two years at sea had skewed my perspective. Even as we came into port, I couldn't help but see some of Port Ronald's flaws.

The buildings were squat - most of them were falling apart by their foundations, which said enough about the living conditions for the majority of The Port's residents. There was little stopping the filth on the streets from getting everywhere; clean clothes would be soiled within the hour as the rot of decaying meats, fruits, and excrement seeped into the very weaves of fabric. Little urchins scurried about, orphan and often homeless creatures just looking for their next piece of copper or scrap of bread.

It wasn't perfect. Nothing was perfect. But Port Ronald was no longer the town that I remembered.

While some part of me was disappointed at the revelation, another part was equally as glad. If anything, it meant that I'd changed and grown. My worldview had shifted. I'd been exposed to cultures and ideas I could never have even dreamed of. Port Ronald was no longer my only experience of what the world had to offer.

But it would always hold a special place in my heart - flaws included. I couldn't go a day without taking a deep breath of that salty air as the cawing of gulls, the toll of a distant bell, and the idle conversation of peddlers and every-day men filled the void.

Despite everything, it was good to be back. After all this time at sea, I didn't think I'd ever see this place again. I didn't think my captain would ever have any interest in bringing me back here. Hells, I didn't even think _I_would want to be back.

The day was clear, sun beaming down overhead in the early hours of the morning. Most people were already out and about.

Wolfish Welks, with their massive towering frames, manes that ran along the length of their spines, and the natural hunch to their stance. I could more easily tell who among them was an Imperial and who was an 'Avashe' - their word for outsider; I never got a hang of their tongue - than I could discern their genders. They made up the majority of the populace.

Sprinkled among them were the Sommerians, dusty-coloured coyotes more inclined to their arid deserts than these temperate isles; and the Perenisians, the short, slender, and slim-eared felines who walked with an elegance and grace that must have come naturally at birth.

And - every now and then - a Vulper like myself. Not a strange sight, but enough to draw some eyes. We were the shortest of them all, with thick and vibrant coats of red, white, orange, brown, or silver. Often enough, a mix of some of these. We'd lock eyes whenever I passed one on the street and nod, just a small acknowledgement of each other's presence.

We didn't have to be friends. We just had to know we were there.

So many places to see after two years. So many things I could be doing, or people I could be talking to, or vices I could be indulging in.

Odd, then, that my feet would take me to the church, upon which sat the bell whose toll could be heard all the way out to the crescent points of the Isle of Ronald.

It was a strange structure - strange in contrast to what I would normally see throughout The Port - perched on a small cliff at the very edge of the sea. Its stone walls were painted a very immaculate white, although the farther down one looked the more it was sullied by the muddy grime which permeated the streets. I had to crane my neck back just to get a glimpse at the blue dome that topped the highest point of the church, at a tower of stone that the bell called home. I knew, from memory more than experience, that the church was deceptively small on the outside. But it had been two years; I could very well have been remembering things incorrectly.

Out of place.

The phrase came to mind and lingered in my thoughts as I stepped up to the front doors. What greeted me was the Symbol of Penance, an eight-point star perched atop a wreath of lilies that crawled up along the sides like weeds. Time, and the constant barrage of sea salt and rain, had faded most of the colours so that the bloody red of the star and the bright yellow of the lilies had turned to a dusky, weather-beaten, and depressing shade of brown.

Abandoned. A wrong assumption - I knew well enough that the church was still being tended to. The word still lingered, alongside the other. Abandoned, and out of place.

The wooden slab that was the door was rough underneath my fingertips, dried out from a lack of care and the constant exposure to the sun's tropical heat. I pushed, lightly at first, and then with enough force that I strained against its resistance, but the door did not budge. My hands fell around the iron handle, hot after hours under the sun, and pulled until the hinges creaked, cracked, and yawned in agitation, as if it had been decades since the last time someone had passed through the church's threshold.

Sunlight couldn't reach the inside of the church, save for the few windows along the stone walls where the light could cut through the ambient darkness like nature's cutlass. A few oil lanterns had been set out to every corner of the church, and candles had been stacked along either side of the row of pews on tall, finger-thin candlesticks.

My eyes were drawn up to the far end of the church, where a stained glass painting - a work of art - boldly depicted a grand representation of the Symbol of Penance. That eight-point star, distorted by the very nature of stained glass, dripped its bloody colours onto the wreath of lilies so powerfully yellow they rivaled the very sun. There were other figures there too, people with strange flat faces who fell prostrate to the Symbol as a form of worship. Welks, with their bushy black tails, alongside a few Sommerians and Perenisians.

Every step I took seemed to echo throughout the church. The silence was so overwhelmingly deafening that, whenever I did stand still, I could almost make out the blood coursing through my ear.

There was nobody else inside the church, unsurprisingly, save for one odd figure at the very end of the room. A Perenisian, if I had to go by the slim ears and somewhat slender profile of her figure. She hunched over an altar, carefully pawing through the delicate pages of one of their books of worship. The Eighth Star? Or was it the Last Call of Amaher? Too many to keep track of. Regardless, the nun did not take notice of me until I had gone halfway into the church, where the ring of my boots clapping against solid stone had caused her ears to twitch and her body to stiffen ever so slightly.

Despite the long and flowing robes, she gracefully turned on her heels and regarded me with a small yet pleasant smile. I got a better look at what she wore as she approached me, her footsteps as silent as the rest of the church.

Her veil, which reached down to the middle of her slender back, was the same bright red as that of the Symbol's star. Underneath that was a black coif, the fringes of which I could just barely make out from beneath the veil. Her robes were elegant, a perfect balance between the simplicity of the church and the intricacy of personal taste. Little lilies had been embroidered into the red satin. The opening at the front revealed a thin white tunic, probably made of silk or something of similar richness to it. Above all the fabric was a leather belt that'd been tied around her waist, tightly holding her outfit together. A silver medallion hung around her neck - another Symbol, though this one only held the eight-point star. The jingling of jewelry finally reached my ears, hidden under all those paper-thin layers.

Her fur, what little I could see from her face and neck, was a splotchy mix of cream, brown, and silver.

She must have been in her middling years - I looked like a youngster by comparison. Her clothes fitted her form well. Shapely, elegant. My eyes were drawn down from her face, to her neck, and that medallion between her breasts. Not small either, and pert against that soft fabric that made them so -

What in hells was wrong with me?

I averted my eyes before they lingered a moment longer, drawn down over her pudgy stomach, curvy hips, thicker thighs, to the paws that rested atop a pair of simple wooden sandals. Those robes really didn't do much to hide her figure.

Her tail, long and slender and as multi-colored as the fur of her head, wrapped around one of her legs like a coiling snake. She didn't say anything, not at first, but the nun still held that simple smile she'd first regarded me with.

A kind and gentle soul.

"Fel'ar, my Vulper friend." A greeting in her mother tongue - I was about as familiar with it as I was with Welkish, which is to say very little compared to the Sommerian that had taken the world as the standard trading language. She pressed a hand up to her chest, where the medallion precariously sat between her breasts, and bowed her formal greeting. "It is good to see a new face. May I ask your name?"

I swallowed and averted my eyes again. Hers were so gold they almost shined in the darkness. Piercing, with slivers of black for pupils which dilated slightly whenever our eyes met. I tried to bow a greeting in return as my hand fell over the white bandana I'd wrapped around my skull, undoing it out of respect for her and her surroundings. I wasn't religious, but I understood customs well enough.

"Vulp, Madame," I said in a hushed tone as I pulled the bandana from over my head, revealing my long and unkempt silver and brown fur, along with my one long and pointed ear. She didn't even blink at my disfigurement, but I could see a hint of sadness in her eyes; "Is this... is this a bad time?"

"Not at all," she replied in a melodic tone without missing a beat, as if she'd been ready to answer my question, "and please, Sister Ada will do. Or Ada." She smiled. "Vulp. Curious name. We don't see many Vulpers here. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Why did my feet drag me here? Why was this church the place I'd decided to visit on my first day back at The Port?

The words hung at the tip of my tongue. My subconscious already knew the answer long before I'd become aware of it. I trembled, and stammered, then swallowed and breathed and tried for a second time. Sister Ada was a patient saint. "A confession."

She simply studied me with those golden eyes as the words left my mouth, as if she did not outright believe that this was the purpose of my visit. I was drawn to her lips, which widened ever so slightly as the seconds ticked by.

"A surprise," she finally replied after a few more moments of silence, "but not an unwelcome one. Everyone is free to participate in a confessional. You..." she paused for a moment, as if doting on her next choice of words, "... aren't well versed in our practices, are you?"

"N-No, Sister," I admitted, and instantly dropped my gaze to the ground. She shifted from one foot to the other, her heels impatiently tapping against solid stone. It was her hands that brought my eyes back up along her curvy shape - my gaze lingered on her hips and firm breasts for longer than they should have - before they settled on her face once more. "I haven't - well, I'm not a very religious man, Sister Ada."

"And that is perfectly acceptable." I wrung my white bandana between my hands - the accumulated sweat dripped onto the cold stone underneath - and hastily stuffed it into the pocket of my trousers just as Sister Ada reached out and held her own small and delicate hand halfway between the two of us. A gesture, it looked like, for me to take it. "I am more than willing to help you, if in turn you are willing to trust me with the secrets of your soul."

An odd way to put it, yet eerily accurate as well.

Sister Ada twitched just as I reached for her hand. The delicate nature of it was nothing but a façade for the warm and surprisingly strong grip that she held me with. The Sister turned around, bringing me along so that I could walk beside her, and together the two of us made our way to the church's altar. The closer we got, the larger that stained glass painting grew, until it became an overwhelming presence that refused to be ignored.

I lingered on it for a moment as Sister Ada let go of my hand so that she could gather a couple of things from the altar; trinkets that she would rather not leave unattended. That bloody eight-point star hung in the sky much like the sun, and the people portrayed in the stained glass revered it not unlike a drunk would his next bottle of liquor.

Before I could dwell on it for much longer, I felt that hand wrap around my own again. The Sister regarded me with a pleasant smile as she sidled up to my side and gestured with a nod of her short muzzle to an open doorway directly to our left, facing the altar. In her free hand she clutched a couple of pendants, their base made of copper and silver and inlaid with strips of curling gold. They were just like the one that had its long thin arms wrapped around her neck.

"Ready?" she asked, as if to make sure this was something that I really wanted to do. When I nodded, she added; "Remember, a confession is an intimate process. You have to be able to open your soul to me. These things take time." Her emphasis on the word struck oddly with me. "Do you understand?" There was something akin to a subtle firmness in her tone that just barely peeked out over the warmth, and care, and genuine kindness of her voice.

I nodded again, meeting that sun-like golden gaze as we turned to the entryway that had been carved out of the stone wall. "I understand, Sister Ada."

Was she relieved, or happy? I couldn't tell. But something about my response made her twitch - her hand clenched tightly around my own, and the tip of her tail flicked left and right in agitation before finally coiling around her leg yet again.

I lied to Sister Ada when she asked me about how well versed I was in their practices. Yes, I wasn't a religious man, but that didn't mean I couldn't know a thing or two. Everyone did, for that matter. And the Church had never been one to keep their practices a secret from those who wanted to know more.

I knew enough about the confession to know that we would be sitting in the privacy of one another. She would hold my hands, and I hers, and we'd look at nothing else but each other's eyes. It was surprisingly intimate, almost sensual in nature. I knew that, no matter what I told her, Sister Ada would be sworn to secrecy. Nothing I ever said would be spoken about outside the towering stone walls of the church. Such a breach in trust, after I had 'opened my soul', would have been one of the worst sins she could commit. I knew enough to know that I could trust this total stranger with the worst that I had to offer.

But I listened as she relayed this exact knowledge to me, and I nodded, and smiled, and played the part of the respectful and observant outsider. Even as we ascended the spiraling staircase of the church's tower, and as the air grew frigid, and as the world darkened around us, I still found comfort in her voice. A part of me did feel uneasy - the religious iconography of the Church of Penance had always rubbed me the wrong way - but my worries were soothed as she rubbed her hand against my own and pressed the side of her soft body against mine.

What nobody told me about was how close together we'd be sitting from one another. I could practically taste her breath, sweet like pear and with the bite of mint, and felt a wash of shame overcome me as she was undoubtedly forced to breathe the taste of morning breath, alcohol, and dried meats. So close together were we that I could feel the warmth of her body against my own, her delicate curves pressing against mine, her soft breasts grinding against my chest.

My body refused to ignore her mature beauty as my mind desperately tried to piece together what lay beneath the satin robes and soft silks.

And nobody told me of the incense - all that incense that set a cloudy haze right above our heads. The scent nipped and scratched at my sinuses and burned my eyes until my vision blurred with tears, only for it to settle into a sweet aroma that dared to carry me away into the archives of memory.

"Forgive the incense," spoke Sister Ada as we held hands and knelt together. She neatly sat back on her legs, while I clumsily crossed them under me. Her smile was as wide as her eyes. She momentarily shifted, enough that her soft stomach pressed against my abs and the tip of her small button nose poked my own sharp snout; "but you should grow accustomed to it soon."

"I recognize it," I whispered, finding it impossible to pull away. The closer we were - and we couldn't have gotten much closer at this point - the more I wanted to hold her in my arms; "Gallaecian lilies, right?"

Her smile widened. I could see her age a little more clearly. Slight wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. Her short whiskers, along with a few strands of fur around her chin, were starting to turn a dull silver. An experienced gaze, as if she'd seen more to life than I ever had. But there was so much youthfulness in her, as if Sister Ada had never outgrown the twenty-something girl lingering within.

"Of course," she commented as her thumbs rubbed upturned palms of my hands, "you _would_recognize it."

"One of the few good things we have to offer."

Her head cocked to the side. Those long and thin Perenisian ears twitched and flicked at an unseen fly. "One of the many good things that Vulpers have offered the world. Tell me, does it remind you of home?"

Home.

"A little," I responded, "but I didn't live in Gallaecia for more than a few years."

"Then where did you come from?" Conversation, so that I could settle into a calmer state of mind. I knew the game, but I played along all the same. It didn't help distract me from her body, which so sensually pressed against me with every small shift that I was almost left breathless and flustered.

"Here," I responded, then added after a pause, "and there."

"A traveler!" Glee in her voice. The small room was lit by small flickering candles. It cast a strange glow on parts of Sister Ada's face, while the rest of it was partially obscured by the sharp shadows of her coif and veil. The walls, playing host to our dancing shadows, felt just a little bit more familiar. "So you aren't a new face."

"Not to Port Ronald," I replied, and finally managed a smile of my own, "but to this church, yes. And to you as well. Unless we've met before."

"I would have remembered you," she replied, "as I remember all who come into this church. And - forgive me for saying this - I think I would remember a Vulper as well." She gave me no chance to reply, even as I felt my cheeks heat up and redden under my fur. "And where did your travels take you?"

"Many places, Sister." I had to stop for a moment. My eyes wavered, gaze settling to a painting just above her shoulder. It depicted a man, a Sommerian, on a lonely journey across the towering dunes of a Sommerian desert. The Last Voyage of Renfri Alaham. She shifted again, her breasts rubbed gently against my chest, the little hard nubs that were her nipples teasing me through that satin skin. Swallow, breathe, focus on her again. "But... mostly here, on the Isles. The Isle of Sommét, Vernacká... - Palpris."

"Tell me about Palpris."

"Have you never been, Sister?"

"I have." Her wet nose twitched. It almost touched mine again. I could feel the beating of her own heart through her hands, soft and calm and collected; nothing like my own. "I have been to all the Isles, Vulp. And the frigid mountains of Gallaecia, the deserts of Sommeria, and the fertile lands of the Empire." She's seen more of the world than I could ever hope to see. "I want to know what you think of Palpris. Give me your perspective."

I counted the seconds in my head while I tried to think of something good to say, but... "I'm afraid, Sister, that there aren't many good things I can say about it."

"Well, what are the few that come to mind?"

"The waterfalls," I instantly replied as I thought back on my trek through the island's jungle, "the water is so clear, and pure. And... the music."

"It_does_ have wonderful music, doesn't it?" She finally blinked - she hadn't blinked since we sat down. "Something that The Port could very well use more of." I couldn't help but laugh a little. "And, what of the bad?"

"The bad?"

"Yes."

"Well..." I suddenly found myself at a loss of words.

"Take your time, Vulp." Her reassuring smile eased me along.

"Palpris, it... it seems to bring out the worst in people."

"And Port Ronald doesn't?"

"It does," I replied after a moment of careful hesitation, "but Palpris. So small, and crowded, and..." I shrugged as her hands clenched tight to my own, "... and sad. In my few years of travel, I've always dreaded going back. Very few good things have come out of there. Maybe I've just been very unlucky."

"Maybe," she echoed calmly as her tiny and sharp claws teased around my wrists, "we can't expect to like all the places we visit, right?"

She was right.

Sister Ada nudged her head, pressed the tip of her nose against my own, and breathed out so that I could taste the delicious scent of her breath. She spoke so softly that, if we had been anywhere else other than this dark and quiet room, I wouldn't have been able to hear her. But in here, with how we held close to one another? She was practically whispering into my one ear.

"What weighs on your soul?"

She said something else to me as well. Not in spoken words, but in her body language. Sister Ada was so calm - there wasn't a tinge of tension anywhere in her body. It felt like she was going to melt right through my fingers. Her breathing was slow, steady, and deep. Her hands constantly massaged my own and held me with a comfortable firmness. She told me that I could trust her with anything_and _everything.

Take a deep breath. Find yourself. Recollect your thoughts. It felt as if I'd accidentally swallowed a mouthful of sand, little flakes of it sticking to and drying out my tongue and my throat, making it uncomfortable to breathe. My tongue felt odd inside my mouth, jaw aching from how tightly I'd been clenching my teeth. Everything was -

"Relax. Please." She turned her head a little. The intensity of her golden gaze had softened. I could see, if only briefly, the sadness that had shown itself when she first saw that I'd been missing an ear; "I can tell you're troubled, Vulp. The burden is heavy, but you do not have to carry it on your own."

"I don't know where to start," I said. She leaned forward until her muzzle pressed sideways against my snout and her lips nearly touched the fringe of my ear. A cold shiver coursed through my spine as I pressed myself hard against the full length of her body.

She whispered, as silent as her footsteps and the church around us: "Start with me. Allow me carry some of your burden, so that your soul can finally rest."

I could feel the way her body fidgeted, thighs clenching tight together as her hips wriggled from side to side, as if trying to and failing to find a comfortable position over and over again. Sister Ada let go of a hot and moist breath that tickled the inside of my ear, then eased back until we were once again just centimeters apart by the tips of our noses.

Being so painfully aware of it now, I couldn't stop noting the way she just continued to fidget on the spot.

Her smile faltered when I finally spoke, and that careful sadness was replaced by the attentive and courteous professionalism she'd first greeted me with.

"On my last journey, right before our return to Port Ronald, I... well, to put it simply, I hurt some people, Sister."

She didn't speak. It was my turn to talk, and hers to listen. Although I could have used some more of her soft words. The warmth of her hands would do for now.

"A man - a Perenisian, not much older than me - along with a woman who traveled with him - a Sommerian, around my age." I stopped again to see if she wanted to say anything, and again I continued when I was met with nothing but silence. "I... we found them aboard our ship. Not stowaways, I don't think they were stowaways. Thieves, maybe. They were scavenging through some of our supplies, but they didn't look hungry. Looking for something to pawn, maybe. Something..."

I shrugged. This felt like useless information. Was I wasting her time? I scanned those unblinking eyes but found no answer therein.

"My Captain, she -"

"Your captain?" Sister Ada seemed taken aback, though I couldn't tell why. She pulled away, blinked a couple of times, and gave a slight shake of her head. "Forgive me. It was rude to interrupt. Please," then a nod of her muzzle, and another small touch of our noses, "continue."

"Right. Right... My captain, you see, she doesn't really take too kindly - well, what I mean to say is that she is a little territorial when it comes to her ship. And that cargo, it wasn't our own. A job we were working. We couldn't afford to bring it incomplete. So..."

So things got out of hand. And somehow... How did things get so bad?

"... There was a confrontation, Sister Ada. Now, I'm no stranger to fights, believe me. But I'm not like - well, what I mean to say is that I don't take to enjoying harming others. It's not in my nature. But sometimes it happens. That's how life works. And that fight I just... I..." I lost my words as my lips parted and spoke in silence.

Sister Ada picked up after me, even as my vision lost its focus. "You lost control."

"In a way," I replied after a moment, "yes. They - They held a... it was that man. The Perenisian. He started it. Held a knife up and threatened my captain. We, of course, we always carry our -" I gasped, let go of her hand - had to practically wring it free from her grasp - and instinctively had it fall to my hip.

I didn't have them. Better that way - I don't know what I would have told her otherwise.

She just grabbed my hand again, knowingly smiled, and bid me to continue with a small nod of her head. Go on, she silently said.

"I was just trying to protect my..."

"Protect yourself?" she tried to finish, but I shook my head and tried again.

"My captain. I was just trying to protect my captain."

Silence. Every beat of my heart was met with the faint pulse of blood in my ear. There was my own breathing, which pathetically tried to match the controlled inhales and exhales of the Sister. Then came the slight crackle and sizzle of the candles. Somewhere below all that was the rustling of fabric as Sister Ada fidgeted yet again, the scraping of a tail against cold stone, and the gentle suckling of a lower lip.

Minutes must have passed - I wasn't keeping count. I wasn't really thinking of anything anymore. Sister Ada was kind enough to sit in that silence with me; giving me the time to just gather myself for a moment. Her hands were always a constant presence, warm and inviting, and the way her small button nose pressed gently against my own almost fooled me into believing that it was an extension of my body.

I didn't look into her eyes during this time.

"Sorry," I whispered as I breathed in. Her own scent was odd, so very strangely smoky, like the haze of a candle or the smell of fresh charcoal. Not a trace of the sea on her.

"No need for apologies, Vulp," she replied. I finally looked into her eyes again; they were still kind. She was either very good at hiding judgement, or the Sister was as pure as her appearance made her out to be; "What happened afterward?"

"I wounded them," I continued, "as badly as I've ever wounded anyone before. My blade, you see? I -"

"You can be as detailed as you want," she explained quickly, "I'm not squeamish."

"I cut through the Perenisian man. He came at my captain, I don't think he must have seen me as a threat. I cut his arm, and the blood... there was blood everywhere on the deck. But I didn't stop there I - I went for the face next. I wanted to make sure he wouldn't threaten my captain again, so I swung and then when I'd blinded him, I went for the throat."

The bite to my words, even Sister Ada reacted to it by blinking and pulling away just a little. My breath wavered in my lungs as my next apology came cracked and bitter.

Then the rest was history.

"You killed the man." Her voice was cold - not bitter, or resentful, or shocked in any sense. Just... cold.

And... I nodded. I didn't want to admit. I didn't want to say. But Sister Ada had known from the start, she must have seen it in my eyes like some sort of ethereal divination. I wet my lower lip with a thin trail of sticky saliva and said, sharply, and quickly.

"I killed a man."

I could hear her swallow.

"I killed him, on the hold of our ship. And then... the other saw. The woman. So I..."

My hands trembled, despite her holding them. Instead of backing off, like I'd expected Sister Ada to do, she instead just held herself closer to me. The Sister gazed down with the matronly love that only a mother could hold for her child.

"I killed her too. And she was defenseless. She didn't want to fight. She didn't want to die. But I..."

Sister Ada cut me off by pressing her nose to my own. Our lips just barely grazed one another. If I'd stuck my tongue out I could have tasted her.

"Did your captain order you to do this?" I could hear the concern in her voice.

"No! No... Nobody ordered me. I just... I acted."

"And the bodies?"

"In the sea." I tried to wring my hands free, but Sister Ada didn't release her hold. The more I struggled, the harder she held on to me. Those little claws pricked and prodded at my skin. "You're holding bloodied hands, Sister."

"I am," she replied, her voice soft and professional. Her pupils dilated slightly, widening just enough that I could see my own terrified reflection staring back at me. I couldn't look away from that endless abyss of black and gold. "You don't have to worry about me."

"Please let go." That whimper nearly pulled through my throat. I swallowed it down. That damned incense - burning my eyes again. "Please let - let go."

"Why?"

"My hands are bloodied," I argued, "and yours are clean."

"I have sat through a thousand confessions over the last thirty years of my life. A thousand confessions from a thousand men and a thousand women from _all_walks of life." She smiled wide at me. "My hands are as bloody as yours."

"Sister Ada, please."

"And you came to me," she replied, and as a show of defiance to my requests she held on tighter, "without really knowing why, looking for... what? Absolution?"

"I... I don't what I -"

"Repentance?"

"Sister, I..."

"Forgiveness?"

"Sister, please!" I stammered, the words nearly choking in my throat as the corners of my vision blurred. The fucking incense. "I don't... I don't know! I just... I needed to tell someone..." And then I closed my eyes. I felt that drop of warm and salty water dribble from the edge of my eye, and along with it the shame of everything I'd done. "I want to be able to sleep again. I want... I want to forget."

How selfish of me to burden her with this knowledge. She didn't need to know. She didn't have to -

"It's my job," she gently spoke as her thumbs resumed that gentle massage of my palms, as if having read my thoughts, "and my life's passion. You're not the first, Vulp, to speak to me of such things, and you certainly will not be the last. That is the very nature of a confession, is it not?"

I couldn't speak. The words wouldn't leave me.

"Please look at me." Another press of our noses; another slight brush of our lips, though this one lingered for a moment longer. "Vulp, please."

I didn't want to look. "Let go of me..."

"I promise, I won't harm you." She paused. "Please?"

Deep breath. In, and out. Slow and steady. I calmed myself as best I could and -

Kind. Gentle. Concerned. She didn't judge me. She wasn't scared. She just... she wanted to be there for me.

"You did good to come here, and to tell me these things. I know it pains your heart. I know you're scared. But you are not a bad person. And... in time, you might learn to live with what you've done." She added after a brief pause. "But you will never forget what you did. The sooner you come to terms with that, the easier this will all be."

She finally shifted, the first one to move after the few minutes that we spent in silence after that. Her hands slipped away from mine, and like a holy idol she towered above me. "I think we're done for today."

I stood after her, legs shaky, breath short and shallow. Her arm instantly came around, holding me by the small of my back, as I struggled to get a grip of the world. "I... I'm sorry."

"Can I expect you back again?"

"You want me to come back?"

"I think there's still some things we could talk about," replied Sister Ada. Despite everything, her smile was infectious. I sniffed, wiped away the tears with the back of my hand, and nodded in affirmation; "and there might be one or two recommendations I might have, just to help you along. But we can get to those later. For now?" She hurried me along to the stairs, back out to the church's main hall. "Walk. Take in the fresh air. Can I expect you tonight?"

"Not tonight, no. I have some - There are things I need to do. But tomorrow night I could come, if that works with you, Sister?"

She grinned. "That would be perfect."

We parted under the watchful eight-point eye of the stained glass Symbol. If Sister Ada hadn't been beside me, speaking of the next time we'd meet, then I wouldn't have even known that she was there to begin with. We were still alone, and by the Sister's word only an hour had passed.

"One more thing," I said, and turned to the Sister as I fished into my pockets for a small leather pouch, wherein the clinking of copper had made her ears twitch. In the palm of my small hand I presented her a few copper pieces, enough for someone to rent out a room and pay for a hearty dinner. "For you. Thank you."

"I..." She paused, "I can't accept these. We don't charge for the services we provide."

"Well," I smiled at her and pressed the coins into her hands. For a moment she held my hand, then reluctantly took the coins; "A donation for the church, then. Thank you for listening to me, Sister Ada."

Her smile returned to her, the same one she greeted me with, and she bowed like she'd done when we first met. "I'll be looking forward to tomorrow night."

***

I left the church long behind me up on that cliff at the water's edge, along with my thoughts on the confessional and the strange range of emotions I'd gone through in such a short amount of time. The only thing I carried with me was Sister Ada, her smiling face lingering in the back of my mind as I scurried off to Port Ronald's Harbour District.

Here I found myself lost in one of the larger of The Port's bazaars. It ran along the winding length of the harbor, curling its long arms of spice and silver around offloading ships and vagrant sailors. Even though I had no intention of buying anything, I couldn't shake the charm that came in lingering on the roads and aimlessly wandering from one stall to the next.

A lot of new faces, and some familiar ones as well. Old Filippo, with his greying whiskers, sunken eyes, and silvery fur. A Sommerian who'd never been to his homeland and had no intention of ever going there either; Artois, the black-furred Perenisian that still worked at selling his morning haul of fish, and whose stall hadn't so much as grown in the last two years; Lukas and Andrea, a Welk and Sommerian duo with some of the finer home-made jewelry I'd ever seen.

Nobody outright recognized me. A couple odd glances here and there, and a few double-takes from what I could tell, but I think that had more to do with my nature than to being recognized as someone they had seen before. Not that I was about to blame them - it'd been two years, and they saw so many people in their everyday life. I was just another Vulper.

Better that way, I figured. It'd been a long time.

I took shelter from the midday sun underneath one of the larger stalls, where one could walk between shelves of powdered spices and dried herbs. Here I was assaulted by all manner of scents, each one more powerful and enticing than the last. "Only the best spices and tea leaves available!" exclaimed the Welk who clasped both hands together and hunched down to get closer to my height. "And at good price!" He was unusually cheerful. "Go on, go on. Have a taste!"

"Trinkets from Sommeria! Mirrors hand-crafted by the Prince himself!"

"Have a taste of the best that Gallaecia has to offer! Trust us, we've been there!"

"- imported straight from the Imperial Motherland!

"- Everything at a discount!"

"All. Prices. Non-negotiable! Take or leave it!"

Cries. Laughter. Angered snarls. Cheerful applause. The energetic outbursts of children and the tired sighs of the parents in tow. And up on that cliff, the distant toll of a bell marking the turn of the hour.

The sun was starting to set over the horizon, right between the crescent points of the Isle of Ronald. It's golden and orange light scattered stars all across the sea, disturbed by passing ships and their trailing wake.

It was in these twilight hours that Port Ronald transformed, a recognizable yet different beast, mellowed out by a day's worth of energetic frenzy.

The bazaars momentarily emptied out as some of the shops closed, while others reopened their doors. Rarer goods were put on display, the prices skyrocketed, and the haggling intensified. Any corner I turned was guaranteed to have at least one happy trader and one disgruntled customer - the opposite was true as well.

The kids were gone, family men had returned to their homes, and daytime workers were getting ready to call it a night. Those that remained were people like myself - sailors with no responsibilities for the following morning, or bachelors who could afford to spend the night out in town and with copper to spare.

Living in Port Ronald wasn't simple, but it certainly was interesting.

I could have stayed out here all night, roaming the streets, tasting the food, chatting up some traders and maybe even learning a thing or two. There was a massage parlor I'd been meaning to visit, a restaurant whose seafood I could still taste even years after, and a tailor whose clothing was said to be made of the finest silk in the isles.

But my feet, much like they'd done to me earlier today, had instead brought me to a particularly unexceptional building just a few streets up from the harbor. A wooden street sign, so very well polished and maintained, read out the name: Golden Trident. Besides it, there was little inclination of what went on behind its doors.

Not that I didn't know. The Trident was famed across Port Ronald, and often enough I could hear sailors talking of it in some of the other isles.

It was a recent addition, something that was built up soon after I left Port Ronald. What used to be here before was... a bakery? Or a blacksmith? Or... it could have been both, really. They'd bought up a couple of shops and knocked down the walls.

The sweet aroma of perfumed roses, delicate fruits, and rosemary greeted me as I came through the doors. Everything beyond was brightly lit, not a spot of obscure shadow anywhere in sight. The rich, cream-coloured walls were pleasant on the eyes, with nary a blemish to draw away attention. Massive banners of blue silk and wool were draped across the walls, baring on them the Trident's golden logo.

Everything was so meticulously clean and pristine, and yet despite that I could see a Perenisian boy crouching along one of the corners of the trident, scrubbing away at the stone walls with a horsehair brush.

The entrance hall was small, but to either the left and right of the main desk I could see a couple of open doorways covered only by a purple satin curtain that wavered under an unseen breeze.

There was a Sommerian girl tending to someone else, a Welk who was twice our sizes and just as wide. He - I'm pretty sure he was male - had a grin, leaning against the counter, putting on his charm on the rather disinterested girl. Left of me was another Sommerian lounging on a plush sofa, arms stretched out and head lolling back in exhausted bliss. The sandy colour of his fur contrasted nicely against the dark red sofa. His lips parted every so often as he muttered something or another, I couldn't quite make it out without having my good ear turned his way, but from what I could tell he was simply humming his happiness. Then, to my right, was another Welk. He... or she... was sitting stiffly on a chair - back as straight as their anatomy allowed them to get, that shaggy tail bristling beside their leg, yellowed eyes turning this way and that until we suddenly met our gaze.

I couldn't look away, not at first. The Welk regarded me for a moment, its wide and pointed wolfish ears swiveling and twitching to face my direction. Its hands came loose from the tight grip it had to either side of the chair and crossed themselves over its chest, pressing in the loose robes of yellow and blue - an Imperial Welk, then, judging by the pawprint insignia on the robe. It nodded at me, not a hint of discomfort at my staring, and I nodded back. When it turned its head to look at the other Welk, no doubt its companion, I finally took note of the subtleties in its profile. The arch of its neck against the jaw, the sharpness of the chin, the protrusion of its nose, the slightly flared out jawline, the way its fur bristled like quills along the back of the neck...

A male Welk, though this one had some feminine qualities to him that almost made it hard to tell. I... I could still be wrong, but something had me convinced. Even hearing him speak didn't give me a clue, that masculine voice was true for both the males and females.

Now that she was no longer preoccupied, I took my turn and came up to the Sommerian girl. Her robes were long and loose, except around her waist where they'd been tightly held with a soft rope. Those golden sleeves came down to just around her hands. And she was so well groomed as well - nothing like me, or anyone else in the room for that matter.

But she still smiled. It was the practiced, professional, forced smile of somebody who'd been in this line of work for years. Not genuine, but not exactly fake either. Her eyes, brown and green, widened a bit as she straightened out her back and bowed her head in a greeting.

"Welcome to The Golden Trident, my Vulper friend." Her Sommerian was perfect. Of course it was - but even some Sommerians here still had an accent. Very obviously, she came straight from the mainland. I had half a mind of asking her about Sommeria - maybe someday; "I trust you've found the day to your liking?"

I smiled, pressed my small hands against the counter, and looked up at her. Much like the Sommerian to my left, her coat of fur was also a sandy colour, though hers was a little darker at spots and turned to a brown as it traveled down her neck. "It's been good. Thank you."

"I'm happy to hear that. Hopefully we can make your evening just as enjoyable." Another bow of her head. Another sharp, emotionless smile. Hers was one of those practiced answers - regardless of how I responded, she'd have something to say that would put me in good spirits. The intent was obvious but nonetheless appreciated; "You have made a reservation, correct?"

"I have," I replied, and gestured with a small grey claw at myself, "Uh... I sent a letter about three weeks ago. It should have come in from Sommét. It was under -"

"Ah, yes." Her interruption didn't seem to be on purpose. She was just talking to herself. "We had a card come in a few weeks ago from there. Just one, so I trust it was you. But..." she glanced up at me, a slight sparkle in her multi-coloured eyes as they caught the light of an oil lantern at _just_the right angle. "Name?"

"Vulp," I said, then cleared my throat and added in a low whisper, "of Eighth House."

"Mhm." She glanced down at a card she'd been holding in her hands. I recognized the parchment, stained with a little drop of whiskey at the top right corner. "Yeah, that's you. You've got really nice handwriting."

"Well... thank you."

"It says here that you'll be paying for the night. Is that correct?"

"Yes. A room. As well as... your other services."

"Mhm..." Her smile faltered. She paused, then added, "I have to warn you that payment is upfront. That's how we deal with business here."

"Of course - of course. Right." I licked my lips. "How much was it?"

"Fifty copper for everything." She held up a hand, and with her digits began to list off a number of services, "Room for the night, food, wine, hot baths, and a pick of your own -"

"Yes, yes!" I interrupted, feeling the heat again behind my ear as I glanced from side to side. The Welks were too busy with one another to care; the Sommerian had closed his eyes and was still incoherently mumbling something under his breath. "All of that. Fifty, you said?" I fished for my pouch, counted out what I needed and... that was half of what I'd earned on my last two jobs.

She waited as I stared into my pouch, patient, knowing that I would either give in or turn tail. It wasn't going to bother her regardless. After a careful minute of recounting the copper, I placed my hand on hers. Her fur was rough, like a million tiny sandy needles.

"Thank you," she said. Her smile returned, a lot more sincere than it had been before. As she counted out the copper for the third time, the girl said, "You just get comfortable, alright?" she nodded to the lounging Sommerian - there was space just to his left for somebody to sit down, "We'll get to you shortly."

"Right. Uh, thank you?"

"No, thank you." She briefly looked up from the coins, blinked, and nodded her goodbye. I turned, sparing a quick glance back at her, before I made my way to the Sommerian.

His eyes were open again. His tail had been placed over his lap, which he stroked while crooning a mournful tone. He no longer took up most of the space, but there was barely enough room for me to sit comfortably.

I could also smell it on him, - not alcohol, although that played the part a little - that telltale smell of Tervish. Spice. The fine dusting or red and brown stained his lips and marked his fingertips. It smelt like someone had blasted him with a cloud of black pepper and garlic. His behaviour made a lot more sense to me.

The Welks were still talking. Theirs was a loud conversation, partway between what I took as friendly banter and an argument. It was difficult to follow, in no small part with how effortlessly they switched between the familiar Sommerian and their alien Welkish.

The Sommerian groaned, turned his head, and smiled at me. He stretched out his hand, and without thinking I shook it. Some of that Tervish got on me, rubbing up like chalk on my pads. He didn't let go, not for a few moments, nor did he say anything either. He just held my hand and moaned something under his breath, as if the mere contact of skin against skin was enough to set off little bits of pleasure.

The Welks were getting louder. The one sitting stared up at the other one wide-eyed. Every time he tried to talk, the other would roughly hush him or rudely interrupt with something of his own. A part of me wished I knew what they were talking - or arguing - about. Another part of me was glad I didn't know.

The Sommerian let go of my hand, turned his head up to the ceiling, and said; "Life is good." His voice was low and husky, with a long pause between each word as if he were savouring their taste. He smacked his lips, opened his mouth, and deeply breathed that rosy air.

They finally settled down. The Welks were sitting beside one another, long arms wrapped around their shoulders. The stiff one had finally relaxed and had his head buried into the other one's neck. Their tails wagged as the two mumbled something low and incoherent.

"It sure is," I replied after a few seconds worth of a pause, once the Sommerian's eyes had settled on me. He'd been waiting for a response; I was just staring at my hand, rubbing at the chalky drug and then wiping it off against my pants, leaving behind a slight crimson streak.

A nod, smile, and whisper as he moaned and massaged his jaw: "Good answer, Vulper."

"Sir?"

From behind one of those satin curtained doorways approached another one of the Trident's attendants. Her outfit fit tighter around her body, stamped with the golden logo that had been so prominently on display wherever I looked. I could easily make out her long and bony arms that came naturally to the Sommerians. She stood at the very threshold of the doorway, and when our eyes met she motioned for me to come to her.

She was nearly identical to the girl at the front desk, who was too busy buried in pages of information to take notice of my glances. Exactly identical, actually. Down to the blemish atop her right brow.

"Welcome." She said cautiously, quietly, and with that same practiced smile. At least hers looked a bit more genuine. Her eyes darted up and down, taking every inch of me in; "Forgive us for making you wait. It was Vulp, correct? Of Eight House? Allow us to formally welcome you to the Golden Trident. We trust that you'll enjoy your stay with us. Our establishment is at your service."

Us. We. Our. She was as much the Trident as the Trident was her.

She walked in step with me, a slow and lounging pace as she told me about the Golden Trident. A history that I didn't much care for, save for the fact that there was a sister location in the Imperial Capital; some facts about the owners, Welks I'd never met nor did I have any want to do so; and a brief glimpse into the services they provided.

"Like the merchants who will create fine jewelry, or grind you exotic spices, or prepare you meals from far away lands, we at the Golden Trident specialize in our own trade." She brought me along a small and narrow hallway. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting pools of shadow where the lights barely intersected one another. The walls were a rich, creamy amber. The floor was carpeted gold and blue.

She glanced at me with an expectant look, her short tail rapidly swishing back and forth, head bobbing slightly with every step she took. We stopped to let a group of Perenisians and Sommerians pass. The girls, who wore veils over their faces stamped with the Trident's logo, were naked save for a loincloth that did little to hide what was underneath. The men, leading the girls down the halls, were stark naked, aroused, and very well drunk.

"Pleasure," I whispered, the word leaving me without really thinking of it. "I'd heard stories, but..."

My guide openly giggled, her smile genuine now that she caught that dumbfounded, shocked, and weary expression in my face. She reached out and gently tapped my shoulder with the tips of her fingers, then said, "Nothing to worry about. Everyone knows what goes on in here. And like you said, or craft is pleasure."

Bottom floor. The lounge, as she'd called it, was a vast room almost the size of the entire building. Long strips of silk came down from the ceiling, bearing the Trident's golden logo. People lounged on sofas or held idle conversations around tables, being waited on by scantily-clad servants - eye candy. Here the air smelt of rosemary and thyme. Everyone was in a good, mellow mood. Music came from some unseen corner, a tune that lingered in my head as I was taken along to a staircase, where we squeezed by a Welk and were greeted by a Perenisian worker who stood at attention at the second floor's landing.

"And here," she said as we came up the stairs, "are the hot baths. Whenever you're ready, just call ahead and we'll have yours prepared within the hour." Steam hung in the air like a heavy mist, carrying with it the musky scent of heated sex. Even with each of the bathing rooms closed off and locked from the inside, I could still make out the clapping of flesh against flesh, varied moans, loud gasps, and content murmuring. There was little left to the imagination.

Third floor. It was quiet up here. She and I were alone. "Finally, the bedrooms."

Golden walls lit by the dancing flames of a candle chandelier channeled my gaze to a glass door that led to an enclosed balcony with an unobstructed view of the bay. Solid oak tables, polished to a material shine and stained a dark and smoky colour, held bowls of fruits that looked as fresh as if they'd been picked out this very morning. There was also a selection of wine bottles - some names instantly jumped at me. The dry and somewhat bitter Arfenzo White; a more subtle-tasting Ten Grapes, popular in the Empire; and, sitting among them all, a Castallino Red, from the Duchy of Castallino.

I almost felt my heart skip a beat.

This was, without a doubt, the most extravagant bedroom I'd ever had the pleasure of setting foot on. And it was mine for the night - an expensive night, but mine regardless.

"This..." I hummed under my breath, wringing my hands together to keep them from wandering over the reflective silver candlesticks, or the assortment of food and wine, or even the mirror that so perfectly reflected my image it was as if I were staring at a living body double, "is amazing. How can it be -"

Already gone, replaced instead with a figure who stood at the threshold of the door. The Welk, his fur as black as a moonless and starless night and adorned with short strips of silver, had to turn his body and dip his head down just to fit through the door. Three heads taller than me, and nearly two of my own body in width.

I met his yellow and silvery eyes and found it impossible to look away. It was like the days when I stood out by the railing of my captain's ship and stared directly into the deep blue sea. I knew that there was more in there, hidden away under obscure and hazy layers, and all I could ever hope to do was stare and wonder on what it could be.

The Welk held himself with a sort of restrained tension - himself, because I instantly noted the plump sheath on his groin, from which I could see the tip of his member already peeking through, as well as the heavy-set pair of balls which hung pendulous between his thighs. In that sense, the only thing he _did_have in terms of clothing was a tight-fitting blue armband which had been embroidered with golden letters.

"Natél?"

That enormous nose of his twitched at the mention of what I took was his name, and a massive grin plastered itself across his muzzle as he turned away to close the door to my bedroom.

Clack._The latches fell into place as a key was turned, and... _Ka-thunk! A solid iron bolt was shut, ensuring nobody else could enter the room, and effectively locking the two of us inside. He looked at me, showed me that silver key, and gently placed it on a nearby table.

"You... you're the..."

"You requested me." Such a deep, rich, thunderous voice. The Welk closed his right hand into a fist, pressed it tight against his diaphragm, and bowed. An _Imperial_Welk, too. Even when he bowed, he was still a head taller than me. "At your service, Master." And that accent.

I requested a Welk. And, admittedly, I'd been so long since I wrote that letter, that I... I forgot.

"Master?" The Welk - Natél - glanced up curiously, a hint of worry in those deep sunken eyes, "am I not to your liking?"

I'd been staring. I couldn't help but stare. The sharp, wide jawline. That impressive snout. Powerful chest and rippling abs. The mane of fur running down his back, twitching in agitation. Long, bushy, pointed tail. Large rough hands with dangerous ivory claws. The -

He was staring. Waiting. I blinked out of my trance and busied myself with something - anything - to not make it so obvious that I'd been so... "That word," I said, and grabbed the bottle of Castallino Red. 1703. Five years old in a few months; "Master. No need for that."

"Ma -" he visibly greeted his teeth, jaw clenched, and thick brows furrowed as his tail slumped to the ground, "and what shall I call you?"

"Vulp will do." My voice trembled in my throat. My heart jumped at every breath. His scent was overpowering, overwhelming. Needy, and lustful, and heady. I salivated as my body stirred, flushed with heat. The Welk's ears twitched as I set the wine bottle down a little too hard and grabbed the next best thing - a leather-bound book which sat solitary on a table. The Trials and Tribulations of Francois Gulliard. "Does that work for you?"

"It... does..." He sounded unsure. But then our eyes met, and something in his head clicked. The slight frown turned back to that grin, tail swayed side-to-side, and he finally stretched back out again to his full height. No longer the stiff Welk that waltzed into my room, Natél rolled his shoulders and neck until they cracked with a loud and satisfying pop. "So, you're that kind of a customer, hm?"

"That kind?" I set the book down and turned my eyes to him. He was halfway through a silent yawn, jaw so wide the entirety of my head could've fit in there. Those canines glistened with a thick coating of saliva. "What kind."

"The fun kind," he replied while looking around the room, making himself comfortable - too comfortable. But this was better than having him call me his master. The word never sat well with me. "I can talk freely?"

"I don't see why not."

A hearty, jubilant laugh.

"And..." Natél had to pause and take a breath as he took one large step to the dining table, where all the fruits had been stacked up on. It was the only thing keeping the two of us divided at this point; "I can act freely?"

"Yes... within reason."

"And what is," his voice darkened. I felt a shudder run down my spine, "'within reason'? Where are the boundaries set?" He reached for an apple, stopping once his fingers had wrapped around it to look at me. I nodded, he smiled, and tossed the apple into his mouth. A loud crunch, then a spill of juice from between his lips, and a satisfied sigh to top it off.

He ate everything, stem and core included.

"Don't try to kill me," I hummed as the first thing that came to mind. Natél nodded, pursed lips making it look like he was seriously considering what I'd said, and motioned for me to go on with a slight wave of his hand as he went for a second apple; "Don't steal from me." Crunch. I could see the way his throat momentarily bulged as he swallowed. Natél was going for the third apple - at this point I could have watched him empty out the whole damned bowl; "Don't disrespect me."

"No disrespect," he stopped himself from eating that third one. Instead he polished it off against his fur, turned it around in his fingers, and reached out over the table, palm upturned, offering it to me. I watched him for a moment, and against my own will I smiled and took it from his hands. My own bite could hardly take out a quarter of a chunk of apple; "within reason."

A pit in my stomach. A sinking, falling feeling. I breathed and stared _only_at the apple. It smelled like him. I said, in a low whisper, "Within reason," and heard him laugh from across the table. Natél knew what he was doing.

"So what they say about you Vulpers is true." Natél almost sounded surprised. I looked at him again as I took another bite of the apple, the sweetest apple I've ever had in my life, and let my gaze linger on the fat sack hanging between his legs. When he looked at me, I looked at him; "and false. You don't look like a prude to me, right... Vulp, was it?"

"Vulp," I repeated, "and I can't talk for anyone else. I'm not a prude."

"Works for me - wine?" he reached for a bottle - not the Castallino Red, but something that came from Perenisia - and poured out two glasses of equal volume. "So... sailor?"

"It was obvious?" I took the glass from his hands. My fingers twitched and buzzed when they brushed against his own. I settled with standing as Natél comfortably sat on a chair, legs spread wide to either side, letting that musk grow stronger as the seconds ticked by.

"You stink," he said.

I frowned a little from behind my glass of wine. It was sweet and dry - Vintage Morell, a staple in Perenisia but a rare sight out here in the isles. "I thought we said no disrespect."

"Within reason," echoed the Welk, who looked at me with a straight-edge stare as his wide face lit up in a smile, "and I'm just being honest. Sea salt, sweat, fish, dried meat." He stopped, sniffed the air hard, and added with a hint of incredulity, "whisky?"

"Whisky," I affirmed as I took another sip. Natél was already halfway through his glass and already looked like he was contemplating topping off again. "Is there a problem?"

"None." He tipped the rim of his wine glass back against his lips, making a show out of the way he guzzled down the rest of the alcohol in three hard gulps. His tongue slipped out to lick at the little droplets that still clung to the fur of his chin. "I find you a curiosity. Not many Vulper sailors that I know of." He paused, then raised a hand in the air - three fingers. "That's how many Vulpers I've met in my life. You're number three."

"Am I really such a curiosity?"

"You are to me."

"Well..." I did just like he'd done - tipped the glass back against my lips and drank the rest of the wine in as few gulps as I could muster. A mistake, but I could see his eyes through the hazy surface of the wine glass, watching in amusement, waiting to see what I'd do next. I took a shaky breath between each gulp, fighting the sweet, dry burn at the back of my throat. The glass _clinked_against the oak table, and for a brief moment the world shifted.

What did I want to tell him?

"Here I am?" No. More confidence. "Here I am." That's it. His smile grew.

"More?" He was already topping off my glass. "I saw the way you looked at me."

I drank before I could say anything stupid. He just watched, swirling his own glass of wine in his hands.

"How long has it been since - well," he nudged his head at me as his eyes fell down to my groin, "since you've had a proper fuck."

"Ah," I took another gulp of wine before setting the glass down. His eyes were all over me, watching and studying and learning; "A few months. Six?"

"Six. Months." He almost laughed. I could see it in how his lips quirked up a bit, and the sound he stifled at the back of his throat; "Gods above, the sea life is not for me. And - do you usually go for Welks?" He turned on the chair to fully face me. One of his hands was on that plump, thick sheath. Fingers teased into its opening, pulling it back just a little, revealing more of the musky, sweaty inside. The tip of his canine member twitched and briefly thickened. He was already bubbling up with his slick, thick precum.

"No..." I shook my head, with some effort drawing away from his groin so I could look him in the eyes again. Barely-restrained lust; he could have pounced on me at any moment, pinned me to the wall, fucked me until my screams fell away to pathetic whimpers, and - "Yes. I... don't know."

"Ah," Natél's grin said it all. He saw it in my eyes. He knew what I'd been thinking; "attracted to us then? Curious?" I swallowed. The taste of wine lingered on my tongue. The smell of his sex sat heavy in my nostrils. "You don't want the elegance of a Somme, or the sensuality of a Pern, or even the... ah, familiarity of a Vulp," there was a bite in that word. He pointed at himself, "You want this, whatever it is that a Welk can offer."

I grinned, couldn't help but do so. My ear grew hot, my face flushed red. Little tingling sensation spread from my throat to the very extremities of my limbs. Fingers twitched without my consent. "And what can a Welk offer? What can _you_offer?"

"The ride of a lifetime." He didn't even hesitate.

I wanted to say that those were tall words. Lots of talk and not enough action. Or... anything, really. But his exclamation lingered on my mind and settled into my heart. I practically salivated at the thought. I throbbed, the length of my erection pressed against my rough-hewn trousers. Impossible to ignore now.

"That sounds," I finally said, "like a..."

"A good time?" Natél set his now-empty glass down, brows perked up slightly as his gaze fell to my groin yet again. He openly licked at his chops when he saw it. "Yes. Certainly does." He stood abruptly and groaned as both his arms rose high over his head - a little further and he might have touched the ceiling. "A shame you stink."

"E-Excuse me?"

"You. Stink." He turned his head away and pinched his nose. "Sea salt. Sweat. Fish."

"Yes, yes!" I sighed. "I get it."

"I'll get the bath going. You just... stay." He was gone before I could protest.

But he also lingered.

That thick scent of his, which got into my clothes and settled into my fur like wet sand. Every breath I took was more of him, a strong smell of sweaty musk with the underlying tones of pines and caramel. I couldn't keep my nose from twitching as I settled back on the chair and closed my eyes to allow all these wonderful smells the chance at enveloping me. Caramel, pines, sweat, and the slightly-acrid scent of cum.

And the images. The sight of his large and strong body - he could have picked me up and snapped me in half had he wanted to, his chiseled abs, the toned ass underneath his tail, his plump sheath he'd been fingering as casually as I would have the hem of my trousers, and those swollen black-furred balls underneath it all.

How big was he? What would he do once he got his hands on me? It was obvious that's where things would be going tonight, if not by his looks then by how openly he expressed his desire to explore me. I knew what I'd gotten myself into, requesting a Welk of all people, and yet I couldn't help the bit of fear in me. As if I bitten off more than I could chew.

He was right. Read me perfectly. Knew exactly why I'd gone for a Welk.

"Gods... drunk already?"

My eyes fluttered open. The room was bright, the walls so richly golden it almost hurt to look at. I grounded myself on him, that massive beast of a Welk who stood hunched at the doorway of my bedroom, a pair of soft-looking towels draped across one of his arms. Everything else - everything that wasn't important - stirred and shifted at the periphery of my vision.

"N-No. I..."

"Two cups? That's all it took?" He squeezed through the door again with what I took as a massive grin on his face, or maybe a smirk? It was hard to tell. "This stuff isn't even that hard - and you started without me too. Can't leave you alone for ten minutes, can I?"

My cock twitched in my hands, already slick with a thin layer of precum that I'd rubbed along the length of my shaft as I slowly and unknowingly stroked myself to the thoughts of Natél and all the things he could do to me. "I..." He was right up to my side now, bottle of wine in one hand as the other fell around my white bandana. His sheath was just inches from my face now. That smell... I took a deep breath and held it in for as long as I could, twitching in delight. He was... "I didn't know that... the thing. I wasn't -"

"Sure you didn't, Vulp." He squeezed my head tight and forced me to look at him. More of that shaft was visible now, still just barely poking through that thick sheath and still bubbling with precum. Even his balls twitched under my gaze. The temptation to reach out and cradle them in the palms of my hands nearly drove me to do it. Natél growled - it was a loud and nearly deafening thing that I felt through his hand - and pressed his hip in until my nose was nearly buried into the folds of his sheath. That intoxicating scent was driving me insane. And with that strong hand holding me tight, I had no hope of doing anything other than what he wanted.

Not that I had any intention of pulling away from him.

"Lick it," he said, the power in his voice unable to hide the desire for me. It had to be desire - nothing else came to mind. He wanted me as much as I wanted him. Excitement, fear, anxiety, and joy. We were curiosities to one another.

A rush of excitement; a tingling in the back of my head. I grinned, and glanced up at him, and with a sultry lick of my lips and a fashionable wink I asked: "And if I say no?"

"Works for me," he pulled back just slightly. I was still close enough to give his skin a thorough lick had I wanted to, "since I'm not the one that's been pent up for six months. I could go to the room over and -"

Not another word out of him. Only the slight huff of air and the tightening of his fingers around my skull as I pressed my thin snout to his groin and pushed my tongue into the depths of his sheath. That rod of flesh thickened inside, pressing my tongue tight against it and the folds of sweaty, salty skin that wrapped around it as his excitement built and grew.

"That's it," he hummed from above. It sounded as if he were calling down to me from the clouds. The dull vibrations of his growls just kept coming down through his fingers, shaking my very spine. "Get your tongue in there. Get a nice, long taste."

No need for encouragement. I turned my head a little, and as I pushed in my tongue to press further into his depths, I began to gently nibble on the plush, plump skin of his sheath. No hard bites, but enough to nip and scratch and tease. It felt natural - it felt good.

And I wasn't the only one enjoying it.

That hand fell to the back of my neck, and with that small bit of leverage he held me in place while grinding his hips against my head. I flicked the tip of my tongue as he pulled back, curling it upward against the inside of his sheath, and then held it flat and wide whenever he pressed in again. I made the conscious effort of moving just enough that I'd circle to a new spot on his sheath, leaving no bit of that hot tunnel untouched. I felt his cock, not even at half-mast yet, pressing against my throat as it slid free of that warm embrace. It gushed against my fur, thickening with every beat of his massive heart as blood surged to fill that ever-expanding rod of flesh. Then, with careless abandon, Natél stuffed my head under his cock, where I pressed my tongue against the base of his shaft and teased that salty, bitter pouch of skin.

I closed my eyes, slipping lower down his body and between his legs, until balls pressed tight against my snout. Deep breath, and as I exhaled I let my tongue fall from my snout to hold just one of those large apple-sized orbs in its wet, curled embrace. It was heavy, thick, soft yet turgid. I could practically smell the cum on it, so packed full of seed.

All for me, and he knew it. I opened my eyes and glanced up to see a hot, thick, veiny, and still-surging cock twitching in delight. His knot, a hard ball of red flesh near enough the size of my two fists combined, stretched his sheath to its absolute limit. And, above it all, those yellow and silver eyes gazing down at me, cocky and assertive, as I worshiped the Welk for everything he was - an exemplary example of absolute sex appeal.

I drew one of his balls into my snout and suckled on the turgid flesh as one of my hands fell over the base of his shaft. His little moans, hard as he tried to hide them, were encouraging. I was doing something good, enough that the dominant persona he put up was starting to crack. I let my tongue wrap around his balls as I suckled and pulled it deeper into my throat, and though my jaw was starting to ache I didn't so much as dare complain.

Instead I wordlessly slipped my fingers into the underside of his sheath, that burning tunnel scalding my pads as I shoved my fingers between it and that bitch-breaking knot that swelled in the heat of passion. One small tug, and the rest of that knot finally came free, the sheath wrapping and rapidly expanding before it contracted against the more manageable inches of the base of his cock.

It was all out, at last. Every last inch.

"Gods above," stammered Natél, his fingers digging into the back of my neck, his large claws threatening to tear holes into my skin, "you always get like this when you're drunk?"

I almost laughed, and almost choked on that fat nut I'd stuffed into my mouth. As a reply, I gave Natél's ball a long and sloppy lick, then one final suckle before letting it drop from my snout with a parting kiss. A long, thick strand of saliva connected my lips to his balls - absolutely drenched and dripping with slobber.

"Your balls," I said slowly while pulling back to take in the full length of his erection - gods, he was bigger than I thought. A lot bigger. I looked at it, then at my arm, and then at it again. Were all Welks built like this?

"What about them, Vulp?" He teased me by grabbing both with one hand - an easy thing for him to do considering his size - to hold them up to my face. I _almost_went for them again. It took everything to keep myself from doing so.

I could still taste him as I licked my lips and swallowed. I was going to taste him for the rest of the night.

"Wine."

"What?"

"Your balls." I cupped one on the palm of my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. A deluge of pre spilled unto my snout. "Wine. They... they taste like wine." I grinned. "Wine balls."

"Wow, you're really out of it, huh?" Natél pulled away and crouched just enough that his eyes were in line with mine, "Wine drunk and cock drunk."

"Wine ball drunk," I whispered and stared into his eyes. "I - fuck it, I don't need a bath."

"Yes you do," he replied seriously.

"Come on. Let's... uh... let's..." I glanced at the bed, "Now. Please."

"No."

"I'll take you down to the knot," I hummed, and saw the way his pupils slightly dilated as his eyes widened. He really liked the thought of it. "Wanna know a secret?"

With a roll of his eyes, Natél said, "What's the secret?"

And then I whispered, low and steady, with a breath of rosy wine and fermented tulips, "I have no gag reflex." The greatest lie I've ever told. He _had_to believe me. "I'll take you down my... my throat, and kiss your knot, and I'm going to massage those fat nuts until - yeah, straight down my throat. Every little drip." That big wet nose twitched. He almost looked at a loss of words. Come on - just ram it into me already. "You like my secret?"

"It's... interesting." His arm fell on the armrest of my chair. I placed my hand on it and almost hummed at the feeling of muscle flexing underneath my fingertips. His fur was a strange mixture of rough and soft. I could press my snout straight into his neck and bury myself in there, if only he just leaned a little closer. If only. "Doesn't change anything."

"Come on!"

"No," he replied, his voice confident and clear. But he was smiling too, a warm smile that held me in its arms for a long time, "you stink. Come, the bath is ready." He stood and watched as I clumsily made it back up on my feet. Wine got the best of me - I could still go for another cup. His arm fell around my lower back, the strength of it keeping me upright and steady. "I'll help you."

Small. Cramped. Intimate.

Natél came up behind and pressed tight to my rear as we locked ourselves into one of the numerous bathing rooms on the second floor. Steam hung high in the air, darkening an already poorly-lit room with hazy roaming shadows. I sniffed and moaned and pressed back against his body - my head only just barely came up to his chest - as his cock, only half-erect by now, pressed against my backside.

"Smells so good," I whispered as his large hands came around my shoulders, fingers dexterously unclasping each of the buttons to my woolen shirt. Pop. Pop. One, after the other, after the other. He slowed down when I rubbed against his impressive length. It throbbed hard against my back.

"What's it smell like?" he asked me as the last button came undone. Rather than pulling it off outright, his large hands teased into the inside of my shirt. Those large sharp claws crawled along my short belly fur, scratching at the skin underneath.

"Like sex," I replied dumbly. It felt good. Having his hands all over me. And his voice, like a buzzing in my head. Such a good buzz. It felt so good. "Like you haven't... pent up. Haven't cum in a long time." He finally took my shirt off. It felt good to be rid of it - almost felt like I hadn't peeled it off in months. "Strong, bitter, salty, sweaty, delicious smell. Like earth and leaves and... and other things."

"Earth and leaves and other things." I could almost hear him roll his eyes as those hands came around my shoulders, then down my collarbone, to settle just over my chest; "Great."

"It's good!" I said, fighting back a small moan as his fingers pinched each of my nipples. He must have felt them harden instantly, as he began rolling them between his digits. It felt so good. "Husky. Musky. Dominant. Strong."

"That's better. You're a really horny drunk, you know that?"

"That's not a problem." I meant it as a question, but couldn't help but have it be a statement. It wasn't a problem to me, and from what I could tell it wasn't for him either. If those hands were anything to go by - Gods, those hands were softer than they looked - he really didn't have a problem with how I was acting.

One on my nipple, the other exploring my stomach and hips. He pinched me hard until a moan was drawn out of me, halfway between pain and pleasure, which set him alight with a terribly infectious laughter. More of that - I wanted more of that laugh.

"Strong," he said as his hand fell to my stomach. Natél squeezed it gently, letting his hands run through my dirty fur. Another pinch of my nipple - he tugged on it until I gasped and squirmed in his powerful embrace. His cock throbbed, swelling against my leg as it rose from half-mast to a fully hardened erection; "Not bulging with muscle. Not skinny either. Hard worker, huh?"

"I... ah..." He pulled his hips away from me. I felt the tip of his tapered head prod my lower back before it suddenly slipped up, and up, until it was squeezed tight between his strong stomach and my back. Natél moaned into my ear, or as much as he could do with how tall he was, and announced his pleasure with a streak of precum that squirted against the back of my neck.

"Yeah, you are. Sea's given you a nice body. Lean, well-toned. I like it - makes you look strong and clean."

"Stop," I whispered, the flush of heat on my cheeks growing stronger as that hand moved from my stomach to the hem of my trousers. His thumb dipped into the waistband, teasing the tuft of grey fur on my groin as his index and middle finger worked at undoing the knot that held it all together

He ignored my request - his words were like milk and honey: "Just appreciating what you have. You're exactly my type." Another pinch, another sharp bite of pleasured pain on my nipple, and another drawn-out moan. My trousers loose from around my waist. All it took was a quick flick of his wrist for it to all fall around my ankles, leaving me as naked as he was. "I like what I see."

As he spoke, that large hand that had been so sensually exploring every inch of my body fell around my throbbing dick. By all standards I wasn't small - not as large as him; that would be like comparing a lake to the ocean - but his hand so easily fell around the full length of my member that I couldn't help but melt against his body and buck against that tight, warm grip.

Natél rolled his wrist and slowly stroked me to rhythmic pace. It didn't matter how hard I pressed against his hand, or whined, or turned my head to lick his chest and kiss that hard body; we wouldn't be going any faster unless he wanted it to go faster. And right now? Natél was content with going as slow as he could, feeding words into my head more intoxicating than those two cups of wine or any glass of whisky I've ever had in my life.

"So hard and eager," he said to me as he reached lower to cradle my balls, "and so pent up as well. Can't believe you've gone this long -" His words fell on deaf ears as I closed my eyes and thought only on what he was doing to me, and what he could be doing as well. "- going to be taking care of you for the rest of the night."

"That sounds," He pressed against me again, the fat sack between his legs squeezing against my bare ass, "wonderful."

"I'm sure it does." Hand came back up to my member. Fingers just lightly teased the skin of it, making me swell and throb as I took in a sharp breath of air. Precum collected at the tip of it, watery and runny, nothing like the thick substance which dredged up from his core and stained the fur on my back. It collected on the tip of his finger, which he used to slowly run a hot trail down the underside of my length until he hit the knot. "Ready for your bath?"

"No," I hummed, and tried turning in his arms to face him. He didn't have any of it, Natél just held me in place. "Come on. I just... Please. I need this."

"I know you do," he said, "and we'll get to that, after your bath." His hand finally fell away from my cock, but not without leaving me with a final couple of strokes that left much to be desired for. The other hand that'd been so torturously teasing my nipples fell on my head, undid my bandana, and -

He tensed up as it fell away from his hands. I could feel the muscles on his chest flexing, and the arm that was still wrapped around my body pulled me in just a little closer to him - held me just that much more tightly.

"Hey." He got really quiet. I turned my head and pressed a gentle kiss against one of his pecs. It flexed on contact with my lips. I went in again, and again, until I felt him stir behind me. "Come on. Get this over with so I can get to sucking you off."

A huff of air somewhere above me on the clouds. His voice called out, deep and low and almost caring. "Yeah. Alright." Hand fell on my head, right behind my ear, which twitched and danced as those long claws scratched at my most sensitive spot. I hummed and smiled at his touch. "You drunk."

"Don't call me that," I replied, and for the first time since we came into the bathing room I finally pulled away from his arms, turned, and took in the full sight of his body.

He walked to me - everything below his waist bobbed with every step - and pressed one large hand to the centre of my chest. "Turn around," he said, and I did as I was told, "We'll make this thorough. I want you spotless."

"I don't really smell that bad."

"You do. And your fur." A hand fell to my back. He was feeling my fur, long and coarse, coated in a thick layer of sea salt and grime and oily with sweat, unkempt after months of not being groomed; "it's a travesty."

"Hey."

"Don't worry. We're going to fix it. And after that," He actually crouched low enough that I could feel his humid breath snake around the back of my neck. I shivered, closed my eyes, and fell back into his body. His words spoke right into my ear, "I'm going to fuck you for everything you've got. But first," he stood straight again, and both hands fell to my shoulders. I sighed, and rolled my eyes, and whined through it all; "cooperate."

The water was warm, yet even though it bubbled at the surface it never got exceptionally hot. There was a bite to it at first, and I couldn't help but shiver as I dipped my toes into the water. It was only once I'd submerged myself up to my neck that I could finally ease into it, close my eyes, and relax.

"We have two hours," said Natél as he slowly came into the water as well. He probably had to cross his legs just so he could fit into the tub as well as I have, "so take your time. Relax. There's no rush."

"No rush," I echoed. The steam in the air, and that warmth that enveloped every inch of my body, helped me to forget everything. Even Natél, and everything I wanted to do to him, fell away as I finally allowed myself to relax.

When was the last time I'd done this?

"Everything good, Vulp? Water isn't too hot?"

"No, no." I waved a bit - my hand didn't even break the water's surface, "Everything is... it's perfect."

"Good, good. Come on, turn around." One of his large arms fell over to the side of the tub, smacking wetly against stone, so drenched in water that it made even his midnight fur look blacker than the night. "Let me help."

His claws were on me the moment I turned and leaned against the edge of the tub, scratching and scrubbing, probably working to untangle the mess of knots that came from lack of care. I would have told him to not worry about it - I _should_have said so - but it felt so good... His hands all over me, exploring every inch of my body, tending to and taking care of all my needs.

It was beyond good. This was heaven on earth.

They came up to my shoulders, those large rough and soft hands, and massaged away the tension that I didn't even know was there. I moaned his name and breathlessly gasped as his hands fell on my hips to roughly pull me away from the edge of the tub. The way he sat me, just on his lap, right on top of that swollen, juicy dick, almost made it seem like he was ready to penetrate me. Even if I wasn't ready, I couldn't help but crave the thought.

"Say that again," he snarled lowly, teeth nipping my ear till it felt like he was going to make it bleed. I groaned, raised my tail, and settled my rump against that bulging knot.

"Natél," I moaned. He loved the way I said his name - had to be that, or what else would have gotten such a reaction out of him - so I did again, throatier, more breathless, and with a genuine desperation in my voice. "You're torturing me."

"I'm torturing myself." There was a pause. His hands squeezed tight to my hips. That imposing dick throbbed against my cheeks. His breath fell to my ear and - I giggled, softly at first, but I couldn't help as it spilled over into an unconstrained laughter.

He laughed too, a chuckle, as his hands gently placed me back against the edge of the tub.

"You could be fucking me right now," I said as his hands fell on my back again. There was another smell too - not the musk of sex, or needy lust, or that strong aroma that followed Natél wherever he went. It was... lavender? And basil. Coconut. Mangos.

The longer he scrubbed my back, working fingers through my fur, dredging away the accumulated salt and sweat, the more that wonderful mix of smells seeped into my body. Foamy soap bubbled around me. Oils that would be good for my fur, as he so casually explained it, gave my coat a shine it hadn't had in... years, at the very least.

It was different - alien. But it felt right. It felt good.

"I needed this," I said without really thinking, to which he laughed and said that, indeed, I really did need it. I mindlessly told him that he had no idea.

"Well," Natél murmured as his hands came around my body so he could scrub my stomach. Didn't even ask me to turn around - he must have liked pressing up against my backside the way he did; "Tell me a little."

"It's just stressful." Flow of thought. I didn't have to think about what I was going to say. I didn't want to think about it - easier this way, especially with how much wine was still in my head. I licked my lips, still tasting it, as well as him, on my tongue.

"What's stressful?"

"Everything."

His hands stopped; fingers idly scratched my soapy fur. I groaned and flicked my soaked tail against his stomach. Another growl, but this one was silent - I could feel the vibrations of it through his hands, settling deep into the core of my stomach. Like the distant rumbling of cannon fire.

"Life at sea not so easy?"

"No."

"Expected it to be?"

"Never."

"Harder than you thought it'd be."

"Mhm." I sighed as one of his hands came around to grab me by the base of my tail. Just scrubbing and cleaning it, yet the way he raised it so high over my body made me feel like he was after more. I couldn't help but open my legs just a little, raise my hips slightly off the water, so he could have a better look. Take me right here - I wouldn't complain.

"What do you do?"

"Sailor."

"Of course you're a sailor." He rolled his eyes again, I just knew it. Something about how he tensed up, gripping my tail just a little more tightly. "What, exactly?"

"Merchant. Uh... no."

"You don't know what you do?"

"I'm_drunk!_ Now, shut it." If anyone had seen me talking to a Welk like that, they would have expected to see blood. Natél just laughed behind me and finally let my tail drop. One hand continued caressing my stomach as the other stroked the length of my tail. "Privateer."

"You fight?" He sounded so taken aback that I almost laughed.

"No! Silly. That's... just a name, really." His hand fell on my rump. He really wanted to get a handful, didn't he? Again I raised my tail for him and again I spread my legs a little more. One of those long fingers teased between my cheeks. "It's... ah... it's a name."

"Right. A name." He leaned over my back. He didn't even try to hide the fact that he wanted to tease my asshole.

"Mhm. We, ah... under employ of... Mmm."

"Employ of...?"

"Imperials."

"Well, the islands are theirs."

"Technically," I added.

"Technically," he repeated. Finger pushed deeper against my ass. Pad teased my hole, gently massaging it, testing to see how tight I was. Too tight, I knew - would he like that?

"So what do you do for the Empire?" Other hand came down my stomach, over my pubic fur, to the base of my shaft. Thick, throbbing, flexing against his grip. I moaned into my hands as I felt his fingers squeeze tight around my knot - it wasn't the monster bitch breaker that he had, but still pretty sizable. But with the size of his hand? He could wrap around that entire sensitive bulb and massage it all in one go.

"Don't stop," I whimpered.

"What's that?"

That finger pressed tighter against my backdoor. He wanted to push it in, or was teasing me about it. Testing. Pushing my limits. I licked my lips and said, "Contract... contract work."

"Contracts?" Hand further along my shaft, a tight yet comfortable grip. Every stroke beat gently against my knot, making it pulse with need.

"Empire needs... stuff moved around. Y-You know," I swallowed as his hands lifted me off the water, just enough that my bare ass was now exposed to the comparatively cold air. His finger pulled away from my ass; "Running goods. People. Back and forth, through the Isles, and..." Sharp breath of air when his finger was right back against my backdoor, slick and runny with an oily substance.

"And..."

"And we do that. Pay's... pay's alright. Just... stressful."

"I bet." He prodded against it. My backdoor tightened up against the intruder. He was unrelenting. Big. Constantly massaging at it, spreading that oil around to make his entrance into me easier. I practically drooled unto my hands. "Why do it?"

"Have to," I breathlessly replied as I felt him spread me open. Not enough to get his finger inside, but just enough for me to know that I was almost ready for him. "I have to do it."

"Money's tight?"

"N-No."

"Then...?"

"I just have to."

"So that's all you do?"

"Anything that's available," I replied. "Empire puts out contracts. We... ah... we choose. And..." His hand turned, finger twisted against me. My asshole clenched tight and, finally, relented under the pressure. All the warning I got before that long, thick finger pushed so deep into me that I lost my breath and moaned into my hands.

Too big. Too deep. And it was just his finger.

"Tight," he murmured while drawing back his finger. He knew what he was doing, curling it down the way he was, pressing against my sensitive spot, making me groan his name in wanton lust.

"S-Shut up," I stammered,

"No." In again, with a wet schlick loud against my ear. "You're very tight. Eager little Vulper."

"Please..." I moaned. He twisted up inside me, stretching out my clamping tunnel, spreading my hole wider and wider for him, "easy... please."

"Relax..." Back out again, to the very tip. He gave me a second to breathe before hammering it home. My heart bounced on my chest. My dick throbbed. "We're just getting started."

"So good..." Breathe. Relax. Back out, and then hammered in. The audible _clap_of his hand against my ass sounded so good. "Moooore."

"Yeah?" The hand wrapped around my dick eagerly pumped me to the same pace that he drove his finger into my tunnel. Every jerking shake of my hips either forced me to hump against his hand or pushed me back into his finger. He forced me to feel everything. "How's that?"

"I'm..." I gasped, breathless, holding so tight to the stone floor at the rim of the tub that my fingers ached. Not like that aching deep inside my ass, where his finger pressed down and grinded against that spot - he knew exactly where he needed to be to make me feel good.

"Gonna cum, Vulp?"

"Fucker. I..." It pressed down into my insides, building up that pressure, pushing further to the edge. Both those hands were relentless, masturbating me and spreading out my insides until... "I'm gonna... fuck..."

"Do it then." My cock twitched in his hand as he spoke to me. I felt his tongue on the back of my neck, finger knuckle-deep into my ass, hand groping my knot as if it'd been properly tied. I moaned his name and came just a second later, my hole clenching as if to take his finger in deeper than it already was.

That hand moved up, curling around the tip of my tapered head as I came. It almost burned with how good it felt. He collected it all, every last drop of my seed, and after a few more squirts he roughly pressed it to my snout for me to lick, and savour, and swallow until I'd left him spotless. Sticky, bitter, and hot. It was perfect.

"Your hands," I murmured as that long finger eased out of my backdoor, slowly, and with one final teasing nudge against that one wonderful spot that made me weakly throb and dribble some more cum, "are magical."

"I've been told," he replied, his voice low. With both hands he slowly eased me back into the water, and then held me in a strong yet somewhat tender embrace. I could feel his large heart beating through his chest - he'd enjoyed this almost as much as I had, it seemed. "Still stressed out?"

"Don't... don't tell me you did all that...?"

"I_did._ You liked it. So did I. And looks like you're a lot less tense." He nipped my ear and growled, "I did say I'd be taking care of you tonight."

"You did," I admitted, smiling dumbly as the warmth of the water overcame me again. "More wine?"

"More?" he scoffed. Hands teased up my sides, back over my sensitive nipples that ached for his touch. No more pinching and tugging, but the gentle rubs did more than enough for me. "No, no. You've had too much already."

"One more cup," I pleaded half-heartedly.

"I need you aware for later."

"I will be! Come on. I'm parched."

"Haaah. Fine, one cup." He leaned forward, his lips pressed right behind my ear. I felt his tongue draw out and lick up the length of it, slowly, trailing slobber as thick as the cum I'd just drank out of his hand. "Last cup."

"Y-Yes." I shivered and sighed as he pulled away and heaved his body up and over the edge of the tub. "Last cup."

For a brief moment I was back on the deck of our ship, out in the middle of winter, wrapped up in a blanket of furs. My captain was asleep, her snores echoing all through the deck. My tail swung side to side in slow and lazy arcs. A bottle of whisky in one hand, a handful of dried meat in the other. The liquor burned my throat and warmed my insides. The seas were calm. Cloudless sky, moonless night.

"Thank you," I said to him when he placed a cup of wine by my hand. Half-empty. My thoughts were still together - I could go a few more cups. I had the tolerance.

Natél was right at my backside, hands right where he'd left them just moments before. He seemed content with diligently working in silence, whereas I was happy enough to drink and cooperate. I turned when he asked me to turn, dipped my head below the water when he told me to do so, and finally turned in his arms to look him in the eyes once that gruff voice commanded it.

Pinned to the edge of the tub, warm bubbly water lapping at my chin, as his arms fell to either side of me. I felt caged, trapped in the den of a dangerous beast. His eyes stared at every exposed part of me, lingering on my ear, turning down to my thin snout, and settling on the crook of my neck. He probably saw me nervously swallow, no doubt amused with how I struggled to form words.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to drink that last cup.

"That's better." His jugular showed through his neck for a moment, bouncing as he spoke and swallowed. Large nostrils flared wide as he loudly sniffed the air, taking in my new scent, which seemed to please him all the more as the Welk fell unto my body and pressed that massive nose against the side of my cheek. "Your fur's clean."

"That's..."

"And smells good too," he continued, uncaring for my words, rubbing up against my now pristine and thick coat, before that large head dipped down so he could press his snout against the side of my neck, where my fur ran thickest. It was leagues better than what it had been like before.

"All you," I whispered, shivering when his large tongue fell flat against my neck. He lapped me up, trailing that tongue up and down as he breathed _hard_against my body. He wanted me to know just how much he liked how I smelled now - probably tasted just as good to him. A delicious morsel for the Welk; the thought wasn't as off-putting at it should have been.

The words of the blissed-out Sommerian who'd been lounging downstairs rang in my ear. "Life is good."

"It's about to get better." He spoke it into my neck and growled so loudly it must have been heard outside our bathing room. Dangerous, and dominant, and predatory. Those large hands gripped tight to the rock, forearms flexing strongly around me, further cementing the fact that I wasn't going anywhere.

He finally pulled away from my neck. I found the courage to bring my hand up and place it around him. Pure muscle, every last inch of it. "You just washed me."

"We still have an hour," said Natél as his nose came close to mine. Those eyes refused to leave mine. He wouldn't have me looking at anything else other than him. "I can clean you again."

"So you can get me to the room and dirty me up yet again."

"Mhm." That look in his eyes - there was that lust I'd seen before, only now he had no reason to hold back any longer. He didn't even try to hide it. I was perfectly done up for him. "You're going to stink of me by the time I'm through with you." Lips closer to mine. Snout parted slightly. I met that tongue halfway, so much bigger than my own, and was easily beat down to submission as he shoved deep into my maw until the tip of his tongue teased the back of my throat.

I groaned, reflexively swallowing as I felt that large, hot, wriggling muscle massage the inside of my snout. He explored every inch of me, prodding sharp teeth and wrestling with my own tongue. I loved the way he tasted, and how rough he was. A proper Imperial Welk.

He forced me to watch as every inch of his tongue slipped out of my snout, and left me with a parting lick on my cheek. "Everyone out there's going to know about what I did to you. And you're gonna smell me for the rest of the day. All you'll be able to think about is the Welk who rutted your ass like a bitch in heat, and you're going to come crawling back in here tomorrow night for more of the same."

"You're expensive," I teased as my fingers worked over his chest. His nipples were hard, like a pair of onyx stones that I tweaked before I found myself exploring his chiseled abs. "Very expensive."

"I'm worth every scrap of copper."

So cocksure. I bit my lip and grinned as my hands finally fell around his length. He wasn't even entirely hard yet and my hands could barely wrap around his girth. But that was easily remedied - two small tugs, with one hand around his tapered head and the other wrapped around the underside of his veiny knot, were enough for his dick to surge, and thicken, and throb until it pressed rigid against my leg.

"Didn't think Welks would be so big," I whispered as I worked to please him as best as I could. My hands were just shadows under the water - I visualized everything with the soft and delicate touches that I gave him. The size of his knot compared to the rest of his dick, and his length from base to tip, and how those veins seemed to bulge and pulse with every beat of his heart. I could feel his cumvein thicken periodically, and a probing thumb revealed to me that his cum slit widened to gush out more of his pre. I knew that he loved the way I was handling him, if not by the satisfied sighs and barely-restrained moans, then by that hungry stare he refused to turn away. "You're going to break me."

"I am." The confidence in his reply was unnerving. "Don't worry. I'll make sure every last inch of it fits in you. All the way to the knot." One hand on my rear, groping and spreading my cheeks, while the other fell to my groin, where he worked to keep me as painfully hard as he could have. Heavy body pinned me against the stone. The tip of his dick poked through the water's surface, twitching, cum slit widening slightly as another batch of precum pulsed out of him.

What was going through his head, besides 'fuck, breed, break him, and knot him'? How much of this was a show, and how much was -

My hand dropped from his knot to his balls. They felt even heavier now, as if the last hour of teasing had left him with a fresh surge of seed just ready to be spilled. My hand could barely fit one well, but I still managed to heave them up underwater and gave the furred orbs a gentle squeeze as my other hand grabbed to the midsection of his shaft. Even in the water, there was weight to him.

"Give me a taste," I said, to which he gave me a malicious grin. Next thing I knew, Natél was sitting at the edge of the tub, and his legs had trapped me between his thighs. That impressive length took up the majority of my vision. With every throb his cock tensed upward, nearly smacking wet against his stomach before dropping back down to just over my snout.

A thick, viscous bead of precum formed at the very tip. I had to grab him by his shaft and hold him steady just to keep it from tensing up and away from me. That simple touch, and the way with which I handled his heaving balls, was enough for another surge of precum to form at his very end. It collected, grew, pooled into an incredible drop, and then slowly drooled unto my waiting tongue like a massive dollop of slobber.

Creamy, with the consistency of cum but with the addictively salty taste of pre. It didn't stop - like a river, his precum continued to flow, a connective bridge between my tongue and his cock. I stroked his shaft and massaged his balls, wanting to tease more of it out of him, letting it pool unto my waiting tongue before I finally drew it all into my maw. Let it spread across the entirety of my tongue, savour it, allow it to sit until all I could taste was him, and then swallowed what felt like a solid gulp of precum.

His cock never stopped drooling. A constant stream with how I stroked his shaft and teased those large orbs beneath, turning the off-brown and silver streaked fur atop my snout creamy. I could smell him as much as I could taste it all.

Somehow, in the middle of thinking about his dick, his cum, and the next cup of wine, I'd found myself buried at the base of his shaft. His cock fell hard against the top of my head, my hand still holding it steady as it began to throb harder and in faster intervals. The Welk's legs tensed around me as I pushed my tongue into the fringes of his sheath - no longer sweaty and musky but still with that familiar taste I'd grown to love. Then I turned my head and slobbered just below his knot, which seemed to twitch and swell with a mind of its own when I started giving it the attention it deserved.

"Tell me you Vulpers are all the same," he drawled as I took as much of his knot into my mouth as I could fit. It wasn't much, but I compensated by letting my tongue rub back and forth against the solid ball of flesh, feeling at its curves and bulging veins as my fingers drew up to the tip of his head to tease at his urethra with the pad of my thumb.

A parting lick, and an exaggerated "Ahh!" to really drive home just how much I was enjoying the taste of his dick.

"I'm..." He watched me as I pressed a kiss against the side of his shaft, "one," a lick on his swelling cumvein, which I traced up while following a fresh surge of precum that seeped into the fur on the back of my neck, "of," a nip on his skin, so very lightly it couldn't have hurt, yet it made him twitch and throb and moan all the same, "a", and then, finally, I pressed my tongue flat on his tapered head and patiently waited for him to squirt more of his delicious pre into my waiting maw as I stroked him off with both hands, "kind."

Before he could say anymore, I fully pressed my thin tongue to the underside of his shaft, sat up a little higher in the water, and brought my snout around the entirety of his head. I heard him gasp as I puckered my lips tight around his girth and suckled on his head, savouring his rich masculinity as he drooled precum right into the back of my throat. Obediently enough I swallowed, my ear falling flat over my head, as I drew back enough to allow some of his delicious excitement to fall on my tongue.

I spread it across the underside of his shaft as I took him in again, a little deeper this time now. I could take him - and I promised I'd kiss his knot. He pried my jaw apart by sheer size alone, at first filling out my maw perfectly before it became overwhelming, overbearing, and downright exciting. I turned my eyes up, saw that he was watching, and after a deep breath I slowly began to bob my head against his shaft.

Deeper. I pulled him in with every downward stroke, an inch at times, or a half inch at others. Sometimes I had to pause and breathe as my hands worked to continuously stroke the remainder of his shaft - still a long way to go. I pulled him out until only the tip was pressed between my lips and then drew him into me in one sudden and gulping breath, earning yet another inch of tasty canine cock for me to explore with my thrashing tongue.

I wasn't halfway to his knot when I felt his tapered head tease the back of my throat, at which point a soft gag was forced out of me. His hands fell around my head, and as if he were handling a porcelain vase, he slowly drew me away until it all slipped from my maw.

His cock twitched. More of his veins were visible across the surface of his deep-red shaft, so slick and moist with my slobber.

There was genuine concern in his voice. For a moment I looked away, my eyes on his. "You don't have to take it to the knot."

"I can do it," I instantly replied, almost desperately, as I gave his dick an exploratory lick that made him close his eyes and actually visibly shiver, "Please, let me..." I paused, gulped, tasted him on my drool, and finished, "let me please you."

The hands that held my head guided me back to his very tip. Enticing and delicious, frothing with precum. I licked it up, then wrapped my lips, and allowed myself to be pressed forward by that strong pair of hands. Inch after inch, lapping away at his turgid shaft, watching the angry ball of flesh that was his knot coming closer and closer to my lips, until he finally hit against the back of my throat like he'd done before.

But he didn't stop this time. Even through my gag, gentle at first and then louder to my ears, Natél continued pressing me into his length, prying apart my throat and driving it in as I desperately kicked at the water and held on to his thighs.

"Slut," he groaned as I whimpered under him, tears at the edges of my eyes, jaw aching as his dick surged, swelled, and pushed more of that thick precum straight to my stomach, "This what you wanted?"

"Mmhm!" I brought him out of me slowly until I could gasp for breath, and then dove right back in. Saliva formed and spilled from the edges of my lips, and tears finally broke through to my fur as I, finally, felt my lips press against his knot. I looked at him, weary and lightheaded, and gave it a lick - proof that I'd done as I promised.

"You're insatiable." Another gag was forced out of me as he drew me away. My hands instantly fell to what I no longer held in my maw, and with desperate fervor I masturbated him. He twitched and cursed under his breath as I suckled and licked around the tip of his head.

Faster. Harder. My hands beat against his knot as my strokes grew longer, small hands touching and teasing every last inch of his shaft. I licked at that sensitive spot right below his head, and gripped tight to his knot, and moaned like a common whore - anything to get at my reward.

His balls tensed up tight just as I grabbed them, and I finally tasted it. A helping of cum spilled into my mouth. Almost like... runny yogurt. I could feel him tremble above me, moaning in appreciation, as his dick swelled until it threatened to split my jaw apart.

I felt it travelling up his cum vein, so torturously slowly I had no doubt in my mind that he could feel it to. My hands moved in tandem with it, following that bulging vein, pressing gently against it. In those few short seconds, right before the Welk unloaded into my throat, I was left in awe at his virility.

"F-Fuck!" He grabbed tight to my head, holding me in place, unwilling to let me go anywhere now that he was so close. "Take... take it all!" It built up just at his cum slit. I felt his vein bulge again. "Take it" Two painful throbs, and in an instant he'd exploded inside of me.

The scalding cum burned my throat, filled my mouth, and liberally spilled from between my lips even as I desperately tried to swallow him down. I stroked him harder, felt his balls relax against my palm before tensing right back against his groin, and shivered as a second helping gushed right against the back of my throat. He was breathing hard, hips trembling and humping into my face. His knot was thicker than it's ever been, and - again, for a third time. He barely gave me the time to swallow everything he'd spilled before replacing it with a new batch.

Impossible to take it all. His dick fell out of my snout, cum spilling from between my lips, as one hand fell around his shaft while the other held me in place. "Take it!" he screamed, and I moaned to the sensation of his thick cum splattering against my face, and over my chin, and against my throat with a seemingly endless supply of seed.

His fingers forced my mouth open and his dick found its home right back down my throat. Even as I groaned and gag, the Welk simply held me in place to ride out the rest of his orgasm. He spilled into my throat as I greedily sucked on his shaft and cradled his tensed balls against my hands. I could almost feel them throb with every successive pump of his seed.

I brought a hand up to my cheek as his orgasm waned and collected a helping of him cum on my finger. I stared at it for a moment as it dribbled around my digit, and then locked eyes with the Welk as he withdrew from my snout for the last time. He was still gushing, weakly now, and for good measure splattered me with two more streaks of thick cum.

Straight from the source. Hot, creamy, delicious. I could have spent the rest of the night locked between his legs, driving him from orgasm to orgasm, milking him for every last drop of cum he had to offer, and I would have been content. Gods, I had half a mind of offering to do that right then and there.

Instead I just watched as he finished stroking himself off, cock flagging and finally giving way to gravity, and asked, "Was that good?"

"You have to ask?" he said, taking me in. What did he think of seeing a Vulper so coated in his cum that he'd become almost unrecognizable. What was I... the third Vulper he'd met in his life? Was this setting a bad precedent for my kin? "Yes, Vulp. You were good."

His hand pressed right beside my ear and he gave me a gentle rub. Another flush of heat formed on my cheeks. I stammered, trying to form some reply, but found myself at a loss of words. I grabbed his dick, heaved it in my hands, and gave it a gentle lick.

"My turn to clean you up."

"Good to see you're not done yet," he commented, hand pushing me away from his dick, "We both know that there's no sense in cleaning me now. You can do it later." Natél leaned in, a grin on his face, "after I've taken your ass for a ride. Or did you forget?"

Nervous excitement bubbled in my chest. I recalled his words, how he'd make it all fit one way or another. After what just happened, there wasn't a doubt about it in my mind. Natél was the kind of Welk who'd get what he wanted, even if he needed to get rough to do it.

"Right here," I said, heart hammering against my throat. "Fuck waiting. I... Now."

"In bed," he said.

It felt like hours before we finally made it back to the room. Too much teasing - we couldn't keep our hands off one another. Or... at the very least, I couldn't keep my hands off him. I was wrapped in a towel far too big for me, but a perfect size for him. Our coats of fur had finally dried off, and while he settled into a chair to get at another one of the apples, I turned my attention to one of the large body-sized mirrors hanging from a wall.

What stared at me was a stranger who vaguely resembled the man I'd come in as. My fur was still unkempt, but it lacked that rough and oily texture I'd grown so used to. There was almost a polished shine to it. I could see colours that had at some point or another been dulled out by the accumulation of dirt and sweat.

I turned to look at my profile, then again turned to stare at my backside. My tail had never been so fluffed out before. And...

He came up to my side, watching me through the mirror. Natél needed to hunch just a little lower so he could fit in the view of the window. He hadn't changed much, yet still as handsome as ever.

"See?" he said as a hand fell to the back of my head, "you needed that bath."

"Yeah," I replied. "Fur's really soft now."

"Not just the fur." His eyes burned into my skull. Claws scratched behind my ear. I smiled a little. "Everything. You really needed that bath."

"... I did."

I fell upon the bed lastly - the cushioned mattress and golden duvet were plush against my fingertips and enveloped my body in a comforting embrace. After two years of hard cots and paper-thin cushions, this might have been the equivalent of laying amongst clouds.

"Hey. Everything alright?"

"Perfect," I whispered as Natél came up to my side. The bed had clearly been made for someone his size - not that it bothered me, that just meant there was more space for me to lay down in; "Just... give me a moment."

"Take your time," he whispered as I wrapped my arms around his large torso and buried my face into his chest, "I'll be here."

"Thanks," I hummed, and sighed against his chest

***

It was the cawing of gulls that first roused me from a hazy and already-forgotten dream, and then his deep voice that finally made me open my eyes to the sight of a large twitching nose and the strong scent of a powerful and addictive Welk.

"You're an awful sleeper."

I groaned as the light around me came into focus. It burned. I closed my eyes and turned my head away, which only served to give him enough room to tease the back of my neck with one of his claws. "Fuck. You."

"It's true," he said in such a matter-of-fact tone that I only had the desire to smack him in the face. I didn't need this, not now. "Never seen someone so restless."

"That's just... just who I am." I covered my eyes with the back of my hand and opened them again. "Fuck... it hurts."

"Course it hurts." More of that same tone of voice. The temptation to slap him grew. "You drank like a whale."

"Hardly!"

"You did."

"... so what if I did?"

"Knocked out cold right when we got in bed."

"I..." It came back to me. He'd been so comfortable - I couldn't help myself. "Shit. I'm... I'm sorry."

"No, don't worry about me. I had fun. Besides," his finger traced down my spine, teasing out a slight shiver. My toes curled inward when his finger reached my tail; "Gotta admit, you're cute when you sleep. Except for the restless part. That... that is a little annoying."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay." I took a deep breath - mango, coconut, rosemary basil. A slight tinge of salt that permeated every building in Port Ronald. Finally I uncovered my eyes and fully had a look around the room. Golden light filtered in through the balcony's glass door. "Thank you, Natél. For... for last night, I mean."

"Mhm. Sure." He grabbed my tail and lifted it slightly - was he going to...? No, he let go of it and his hand was right on my lower back. I was both disappointed and a little relieved as well. "Want to see you again."

"You're -" I swallowed; somehow I could still taste him on my lips, "expensive."

"So?"

"So... seeing you costs money."

"I'm worth every copper."

"Copper I don't have."

"Uhuh."

"I mean, I do have it! I just can't be spending it all here."

"Sure you can." He breathed into my neck again. "Here, I'll cut you a deal."

"What are you..."

"You come back to me again - tonight - and I'll make sure that you won't have to pay an extra scrap of copper to see me again."

"Isn't that..." I turned around, straight into his chest. He was just... staring at me. Solid yellow and silver eyes. Piercing. He was being honest. "... why?"

"Because." He shrugged and left it at that.

"That's not an excuse."

"I have my reasons."

"Those being?"

"You." He pressed a finger against my chest, driving that claw in until it ached. "Vulper. Wanna know more about you."

"Never fucked Vulper before?"

"That too." He took a deep breath. "I think you're interesting. Need to know if you think I'm interesting as well. So come back and pay for another night - I'll make sure there's a room available for the two of us - and I'll know. Or don't come. Works for me either way." He paused and quickly amended, "I'd prefer if you came."

"O-Okay. Okay. Just don't expect me to be early. I have an..."

Golden light. Cawing of gulls. The busy chatter and haggling of traders and customers. Cries of children running down the streets. Fresh scent of food. It...

"Fuck!"

"What?"

"I'm late!" I bolted up right. "M-My clothes! Where's my - FUCK!"

"What the hell are you -"

"She's going to kill me!" Shirt, trousers, bandana... where the fuck were my boots? "Fuck, what time is it - no, don't tell me the time!"

"It's five to -"

"DON'T TELL ME!" I screamed as I desperately stuffed myself into my trousers, and buttoned up my shirt and slipped into my boots. No time to even look decent. "I-I'm sorry. Fuck, I have to - have to go! I'm late!"

"Yeah..." He'd sat up a bit, looking at me somewhat confused and also amused, yet underlyingly concerned. If I had the time I would have - I didn't have the time; "What the hell's got you so..."

"My. Captain." I hissed, fist clenched tight to my chest as I looked around for the - where the hell was it? "Castallino Red."

"Who?"

"Th-the Castallino Red! Bottle. Wine. It was right there. Where. Fuck, please don't tell me we drank it."

"N-No. Relax. It's right here," he pointed over his shoulder at a bedside table. I bolted, nearly knocked over a chair, stumbled against the frame of the bed, and barely managed to grab the bottle of Castallino Red before Natél grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and turned me around.

"What the hell's gotten into you?" I was breathing hard - only realized it when he finally forced me to stop. "Vulp, you gonna be alright?"

"_No,_I won't be if you don't let go of me. I'm LATE! I-I'm screaming. Sorry for screaming I just -"

"Easy. It's fine." He let go of me. I'd have nearly bolted out the door had it not been for those piercing eyes holding me in place. "Remember what I said."

"I-I will. I'm sorry. I'll... I'm sorry!"

The sun beamed high overhead - only about an hour or so until midday. With the Castallino cradled in my hands, I scurried away from the Golden Trident and weaved between the crowds. Everyone eyed me suspiciously, but the opinions of a handful of strangers was about the last thing lingering on my mind.

She was waiting. She'd been waiting for me for the better part of the last three hours. Claws tapping away at her writing desk, chin settled into the palm of her hand, a bored and indifferent expression plastered across her eyes. Probably looking out of her cabin's door to the sea beyond, wondering where the hell I'd gotten to, or why I was so late, and why I smelled so -

The streets narrowed, houses closing in all around me as I ducked into a dirty alley and emerged into the heart of the harborside bazaar. There was Lukas and Andrea, showcasing the new bits of moulded silver and gold. To my left a fresh assortment of baked goods, and to my right, far off in the curling arm of the Port's harbor - our ship.

Winding Gale. A two-decked sloop, enough for the crew of two that commandeered it. A captain and her right hand. Her crimson sails were rolled up high along the central mast, upon which a simple blue and gold banner fluttered in the wind.

The dock around it was busy with activity as people unloaded cargo from one of the neighboring ships that had just pulled into port. The deck of the Gale, however, sat solitary and still. I squeezed between two Perenisians and carefully balanced my way up the rickety plank of wood that connected our ship to the dock.

There was that familiar sway of the ship as gentle waves rocked against her hull. High over head I could see a pair of seabirds nesting on our ship's mast. Everything creaked and groaned and shuddered as if to announce my presence, though it all fell on silent ears.

I knew where my captain was. Her cabin, which sat nestled directly under the raised aft deck of our ship. The solid wooden door was left slightly ajar, and from within I could make out the gentle tapping of claws and the mad scribbling of pen against paper.

No sense in trying to be quiet. She always knew when I'd come aboard the ship - she knew of everything that happened aboard. One ear always trained to her immediate surroundings, and the other aimed at that which she couldn't see. And if she hadn't heard me, then her nose would have given me away.

"Captain?" I whispered, unable to help the crack in my voice as I peered into the darkness of her cabin. Dimly lit by four oil lanterns that were starting to lose their flame. The first thing I saw were the rows of harpoons that hung on the far wall, each larger than the last, and all far too big for me to properly handle. Then, on her writing table, a map of the Eastern Isles stretched out and crumpled at the edges. Its margins were decorated with my captain's clumsy Welkish - I couldn't begin to decipher what it said - and Port Ronald had been circled with a fat streak of black ink.

Further in I walked, now completely inside her cabin, and that was when the smell hit me. Tobacco, rum, and bloody meat. I took a deep breath and turned to face her.

My captain was lounging on a large cushioned chair, legs spread, arms hanging over each of her armrests. That shaggy coat of salt-and-pepper fur bristled like quills as she shifted in her seat, settling into a better position so that she could look at me with that half-lidded silver and grey eye. No eye-patch today; my gaze lingered on the coating of greyish fur that covered where her other eye should have been.

That simple white shirt of hers was parted down the middle, revealing the fringes of her small breasts as well as her toned, strong, scar-riddled stomach. It was rich fabric, strong enough to withstand the elements yet soft to the touch and pleasant to bare skin.

She wasn't the tallest Welk, nor was she the strongest by outward appearance. In fact, as far as her species went, my captain was something of an outlier. It didn't make her any less imposing, or intimidating, or interesting as well.

For a long moment we sat in the ambient silence of her cabin while staring at one another. I could almost hear the ticking of an invisible clock in my head, winding down, counting out the seconds until someone spoke up.

Sharp breath of air. I nearly said something, until she rose slightly from her seat.

"Where the hell have you been." Her voice betrayed the indifferent expression. Annoyed, and exasperated, and furious. "You're late."

"I... I know, Captain. I..."

"Four. Hours."

"Captain, I..."

"...Well?"

I got drunk off wine and overslept after stuffing myself with Welk cum. What was I supposed to tell her?

"I have no excuse, Captain." She loudly smacked her lips as I drew my eyes down to the ground between her bare feet, cradling that bottle of Castallino closer to my chest. "I... You see..."

"No, no! Shut up!" She raised her hand - I caught the glint of metal in her grasp. Her flintlock, carelessly dangling by a finger. For a moment it was aimed right at my head, and all I could do was freeze up as I stared down the weapon's barrel. "There the fuck is it?"

"C-Captain, I -"

"Where is it, you fucking Vulp!" She stood, and in three large strides my captain had closed the gap between myself and her. Large clawed hand grabbed me by my neck as she slammed be back against the wall of her cabin, rattling and nearly knocking a mirror that hung off to my far-right. "Where is it?!"

"I don't..." I gasped for air when her hand briefly relented, then choked as it squeezed down around my neck. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"The collar!" she snarled, spittle spraying across my cheeks as large yellow canines gnashed just inches from my snout. "Where' the fucking collar!"

Collar. Collar? I-I had it. It was right around my - "Fuck."

"Fuck?"

"I... I had it, Captain. Yesterday, when I left the ship. I had it with me."

"Oh yes, I'm sure you fucking did."

"I always have it with me, Captain!"

"And I'm sure you left with your prick too, didn't you? Did you lose that too?!" Her other hand came down around my groin, almost knocking the breath from my lungs as she groped and snarled. "Still there, huh? So where the fuck did you lose the collar?"

"I. Don't. Know!"

"FIND IT!" With a forceful shove she threw me to the floor, the bottle of Castallino rolling off my hands as I rolled over unto my hands and knees and dry coughed in between desperate gasps of air. The imprint of her hand had been left around my throat, burning as if it were still clasped tightly to my body.

Breathe. Slow, easy, and steady. Just... breathe. I took a sharp breath of air, exhaled, then a deeper breath, and an exhale, until my lungs finally allowed me the chance to get my first proper breath of air. It all ached, and burned, and hurt, but at least I could breathe. I could -

"What's this?"

She held the bottle in her hands and flipped it on its end as I stammered between gasps, "Cas-Castallino Red. Seventeen oh-three. For-for you, Captain."

"Huh..." She turned around and slowly paced to the other end of the cabin. With her back turned to me, I finally found the strength to stand on my own two feet. It hurt to swallow. "Get out, Vulp. Don't come back until you..." She sighed and set the bottle down on a table. "Just find the damned thing."

I had disappointed her.