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[...] After a final proofread of that last book, I gather the finished work in a pile, leaving the original material by my bed. When I try lifting them all at once, I immediately feel the strain on my wound. I was looking forward to the prospect of finally using my legs, so I don't mind doing a few trips between the library and my bed. Tasr hasn't told me I could get out of bed yet, but it's the middle of the night, and I would hate to wake him up for this.

It takes me a moment to remember which way the library is. We settled in this fort a few months ago, but we spend so much time away that I haven't explored a lot of it yet. I recall seeing Valaat walking up from the stairs in the far end of the living quarters' corridor, and I know the library to be on the lower floor given it has, apparently, completely flooded.

Even in the late hours of the night, the candles in the corridor are lit. Leaving my room with a handful of books and parchments in my arms, I pass by Tasr's closed door, making my strides as light as possible. The slight pain I feel in my abdomen with each step makes the movement, which usually comes naturally, much more difficult to perform.

I don't know if it's my subconscious going back to the ruins, but my stomach drops as I hear a laboured grunt coming from another room further down. I quickly step towards the sound of panting to find the door almost closed, but not quite. Thankfully, I hold my first instinct to slam the door open and instead choose to take a peek through the heavily worn-down door.

I immediately avert my gaze. How long was I staring for? And what exactly did I expect to see in a room from which I heard panting and grunting in the middle of the night?

I begin to walk away. Of course part of me is curious, but I've peeked long enough. Although, I've always found him a bit cute...

But no. No, I shouldn't.

I'll just get these books to Valaat...

...

I look around to make sure no one is coming, but I figure at this hour it's pretty unlikely. Putting down the books next to the door, I carefully peek inside again, this time catching a lot more detail.

Cael, fully nude on his bed, lets out a shivering exhale as he lies on his back, knuckles deep in his own tailhole. The wolf's grey fur around and between his buttcheeks is slathered with a clear substance and, taking his fingers out to reach for a small pot next to him, he takes a scoop of that same substance to his hole, pushing it inside. With two fingers deep inside him, he begins panting, likely rubbing and pressing against his prostate.

After a few seconds, he pulls out entirely to shift his position. Placing his head on a pillow and raising his rear, he puts his fingers back to work, this time risking a third finger in. Resuming his massage and accompanying it with a light thrusting motion of the hips, he brings his other hand to an ear and begins caressing it.

His eyes close and his mouth opens, and when I expect to finally hear some moans, I am surprised by the sound of grunts. Not of anger, nor pained, more of... frustration? He doesn't seem to have trouble fitting his fingers in his hole, but looking between his legs, I can see he is not nearly as erect as I thought. I suppose fingers aren't cutting it.

The grunting and panting dies down at the same rate as his motion, and before long he is still. His breathing slows down while his vacant eyes stare at an unclear point my own eyes cannot reach. His fingers slide out, and his hand falls on the bed, followed by the rest of his body as he tumbles on his side. His other hand still delicately stroking his ear, his gaze moves about as one does when solving a riddle.

With a sigh, Cael lets go of his ear and stands back, grabbing a piece of cloth on his nightstand to wipe his fingers and backside with.

I silently pull away from the opening and notice the small stain through my trousers. I'll have to take care of that later. I pick up the books and parchments I had set by the door, and take off. [...]