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Gallaecia was fucking beautiful.

I couldn’t stand Sommeria’s year-round summer heat and suffocated in the stagnant humidity of the Eastern Isles. There couldn’t be anything less interesting than Perenisia’s expanse of wineries and vineyards, and about the only two things I found redeemed the imperial heartland were its somewhat temperate climates and relaxing bathhouses.

That’s four-for-four on places I never wanted to see again – counted each out with a tap of my fingers on the cold steel railing of the embassy’s balcony – which meant that Gallaecia was simply enough fucking beautiful.

The capital city was a marvel to behold, every building carved out of the very mountain that had stood as the nation’s bulwark for a thousand years, all layered in five half-ring tiers that crawled their way down the face of this stalwart sentinel. I knew in my heart that a thousand more years could pass and there would be no single stone out of place; no terrible wound would ever pierce the heart of this mountain.

How lucky I was to be here. Not just housed in the nation of Gallaecia – gods, that would have been more than enough – or welcomed into the capital city but… to be up here, towering over all.

I leaned my weight against the balcony’s engraved railing, felt it strain and creak beneath my fingertips, took a moment to drink from that brisk mountain air, and stared down at the city below.

Twinkling orange lights and cascading shadows painted the narrow cobbled streets which so closely reminded me of Port Ronald’s labyrinthian mess, though cleaner and far less chaotic. There came and went a few Gallaecian vulpers, stout and thick-furred foxes, weaving in and out of alleys and open doorways, none the wiser of the foreign welk that watched them so closely. If I closed my eyes and really paid attention I could just make out the sound of laughter carried by that cold winter breeze, and with the scents of spiced stew and sweet breads.

Everything I’d ever thought this city to be: peaceful, quiet, and elegant with just the right amount of revelry to keep things interesting. It was –

“Gods damn this fucking place!”

– sadly not quite what my charge had in mind. Her strained voice snapped me right out of that self-induced daze, quickly reminding me of my duties. Even then I was slow to act, choosing to linger for just a few more seconds on this wide ebony balcony because… that view. I could have stood out here for hours.

“Silvia!”

But duty sounded its blaring warhorn with a shrill and piercing cry; it wasn’t my place to disobey. So I pushed off that icy-cold railing, turned on the heels of my boots, and took the three steps I needed to clear the gap between my old perch and the embassy’s guest bedroom.

A quaint little space carved into the stone just like the rest of this city, bathed as it was in a warm orange and yellow glow. There was a distinct lack of abundant decoration, which made for a rather claustrophobic experience alongside the stone walls and low ceiling. Here and there were a few scattered pieces of furnishing to break up the monotony: a deceptively soft bed dominated the eastern wall, flanked at either side by a pair of waist-high nightstands polished and painted a sleek black and gold; the cold floor was adorned with a rug of velvet and ivory that somewhat resembled those exotic fabrics I’d seen come out of the Kingdom of Sommeria; a little bookcase near one corner of the room, an armoire at the other, and some padded chairs to unnecessarily fill some empty space.

And there, near the centre of the room, my charge slumped over the edge of a small square dining table, one hand thrown over the back of her head while the other uselessly grasped for a bowl of fruits just out of reach. The small perenisian’s slender tail sliced through the air with increasing agitation, almost to the same beat as the flitting twitch of her tall and slim ears. She kept her eyes locked on the front door and audibly huffed when I cleared my throat and asked:

“Madame Justinia?”

She sighed, groaned, mumbled some nonsense into the sleeve of her white fleece-lined coat, and further sank into whatever pit of despair she’d willingly placed herself in. Her pointed little claws, silver and black all around, continuously extended and retracted with every small flex of her hands. Once again she reached for the bowl of fruit and once again she failed.

I could almost feel how disheartened she was by the way her slim shoulders trembled with every quaking breath – I could certainly smell it. What should have been a somewhat sweet and herbal scent reminiscent of honeyed tea now just tasted like a bitter black coffee near the back of my tongue. It certainly didn’t suit her.

So I did what I could from where I stood, plucking a particularly red apple with the tips of my claws to place it on the now-upturned palm of her hand. That was enough to, at least, get her to raise her head and look me in the eyes. I was all smiles – she could hardly even muster a frown.

“Now how do you think they keep these so nicely?” I asked while gesturing at the bowl of fruits. “A hidden orchard, maybe?”

Justinia breathed deep, breathed hard, and drawled out, “You’re joking, right?” The slitted black pupils of her otherwise deep blue eyes widened for a moment as she looked me up and down, the very corners of her splotchy-coloured snout twitching just like her ears. “Fucking nothing grows up here, Siliva.”

“It was a joke,” I replied with a deepening smile that must have annoyed Justinia to some degree. I knew exactly what she was thinking then: how in the world did she get stuck with a welk, and why did it have to be a woman like me. A very lucky break for her. “Apparently apples are a pretty hot commodity up here, so… lucky you, huh!”

“Gods above…” She turned it over on the palm of her hand, inspecting every inch of its polished surface till she found the small punctures my claws had dug out. There Justinia took a bite – the barest of nibbles, really – her fangs sinking into the apple’s flesh with a satisfying crunch and a gush of juice between parted lips.

I hooked a few fingers around a spare chair at the far side of the table and sidled up to Justinia’s side, the couple feet of distance between her and I enough for me to feel the abundance of heat radiating from the whole of her body. She merely watched, waited, and finally slumped back in her own seat when I took the bait and stated the obvious.

“So things didn’t go so well today, hm?”

“Oh it was fine,” Justinia meowed while crossing one leg over the other. “Just peachy. Absolutely fucking dandy.”

“Okay…” Her blue eyes continued to track with unblinking precision as I reached for the bowl of fruits and plucked a second apple from the bunch, a little more bruised and not quite as vibrantly red as the first, my fingers easily wrapping around its entire whole. “Then what’s got you so turned around?” She squinted – I crunched down on the whole apple, savoured the explosion of sweet juice, and added between bites: “So – mmf – fucking prickly.”

“Prickly? I – gods… No, it didn’t fucking go well today, Silvia.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it was a complete waste of time!” She placed another small dent into the apple, so careful to not even graze its core. Her droning complaints were announced with an audible huff. “Do you know how long I spent waiting around?”

“Uh… Five, six hours?”

“And do you know how many of these stupid justiciars – or whatever the hell they call themselves – I met with? Hm?” She raised a gestured ring with her free hand. “Zero! Fucking… nobody bothered to even come and meet with me. Just servants and secretaries and servants and secretaries, over and over. Go here, go there. ‘Oh, wait right here please. It’ll just be a moment longer. Ah, so sorry, but the justiciar is preoccupied at the moment.’ Preoccupied with what?!”

I shrugged and bit my tongue. Her eyes found no answer in me.

“It was a fucking damned mockery is what it was.”

“Now, I wouldn’t –”

“You weren’t there, Silvia.” Words spat with a little bark and bite, the spite palpable though unintended. She visibly reined herself in just a moment after when she saw no reaction from me besides a strong and steady stare. Long twitching whiskers drooped as she slumped back onto the table with a final defeated sigh. “I’m way in over my fucking head.”

“There now,” I murmured moments after plucking the bitten apple from between her fingers to set it gently by the side of her head, “no need to say that about yourself.”

“It’s true,” Justinia replied as she draped her hand across the back of her head like she’d done before. Those fish hook-like claws extended to idly scratch through to the delicate skin beneath her fur. “They all know it. They all fucking see it. Can’t even arrange a fucking meeting and I’m supposed to be an ambassador?”

“You are an ambassador, Madame Justinia.”

“Big whoop.” Her rough-looking tongue slipped from between thin lips to lick at the surface of her small twitching nose. “A punishment is what this is.”

“Nonsense.”

“You wouldn’t know.”

“Well I know enough.” I had to nearly lay out across the table just to look her in the eyes again while drawing her attention with the gentle tap of a claw against the side of her arm. “You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t up to the task. The Perenisian ambassador to the Nation of Gallaecia? That carries weight. A damned powerful title if I’ve ever heard one!”

“A title,” Justinia echoed. “That’s all it is, Silvia.”

“And it’s yours! Isn’t this what you’ve been working for? All that time you spent busting your ass in that backwater Vernacká, or the years you slaved away in some mangy little office in Grand Aquila? Gods, don’t tell me you forgot about Grand Aquila…”

“Goodness no,” Justinia mumbled, her eyes a shimmer brighter than before. “Eugh, the food over there was awful.”

“Don’t forget about the roaches,” I mused with the hint of a smile while backing away to give her some space. “I’m sure they miss your precious self.”

“Good riddance!” She exclaimed, life finally returning to her voice. Vibrant, young, and beautiful. “They were horrifyingly monstrous.”

“That they were. Do you know what they don’t have in Gallaecia?”

Justinia snipped another bite of the apple, paused for a moment, then gestured for me to do the same. I waved off the offer while slumping back on my own chair, a breath I’d been holding for far too long finally slipping between clenched teeth.

Her gaze darted down to the space between her hands. Perky ears fell flat for a second as she said, “They don’t respect us up here, and it’s likely they never will.”

“Not with that attitude, they won’t. Besides, we haven’t exactly given the Gallecians a reason to trust us, have we?” She saw the answer in my eyes – we hadn’t. Between the Welkish Empire’s constant prodding and Perenisia’s subterfuge… well, “It’s a gods damned miracle there’s even an embassy to begin with, alongside a young and smart ambassador to take its helm – that’s you!”

“Okay, okay. No need to butter me up, Silvia.”

“Just saying it how I see it.” I drummed my fingers along the edge of the table. Justinia had one last bite. “Hey, we’ve barely even been here a week. The Gallaecians are still getting to know you; you’re hardly used to them as well. Day will come when everything’s just gonna… you know…” I wound my fingers in between one another, “... hook into place all nice and clean.”

Justinia groaned, though in there I saw the flash of a toothy smile return. “You’re hopelessly optimistic.”

“One of us has to be.”

“When did you get so wise, anyway?” She crossed her arms beneath a small chest, the heft of her coat really doing her a world of favours. “Age is finally catching up with you, huh?”

“Hmm… must be the mountain air.” As if beckoned by my words, a cold gust of wind rushed in through the balcony’s open doorway. I breathed deep and hummed with pleasant surprise – Justinia closed in on herself and cursed through chattering teeth. “Oh yeah. Definitely the air.”

“Gods this place is going to be the death of me.”

“Maybe,” I began to suggest, now somewhat cautious as Justinia eased more into her usual self, “you should consider getting out a little? The embassy is nice and all but,” her eyes followed my hand as I waved it left and right, gesturing out to our immediate surroundings, “some fresh air might do you some good. Get to know the city a little.”

“Oh no, no. No no no, I…” I saw her swallow hard, her eyes finally shifting away from me as they struggled to find anything else of mild interest, “... too much to do. Still plenty of work to do.”

“Uhuh… Does ‘work’ involve a quiet evening lazying around in bed?”

“Hey!”

“Aught to get a nice bottle of wine as well. I’m sure I can get the kitchen staff to scrounge some Perenisian Red from whatever hell’s pit of a wine cellar they might have.”

“Silvia…” Her growl was affectionately dangerous.

I shot her a disarming flash of teeth and raised my hands in mock defeat. “Relax, your secret’s safe with me. Promise. Hey, seriously, get some rest. I can see it in your eyes – you’re exhausted.”

“That obvious, huh?” She asked with a slump and a slow shake of her head. Lithe little fingers swiped at her own tired eyes before dragging downard across that pristine beige and black muzzle.

I nodded. Yes, it really was that obvious, and unfortunately there was little I could do. Not for a lack of wanting to help. For all the obvious wisdom I could throw at Justinia, all of her more pressing concerns were, and had always been, far above my own paygrade. No way in any hell that I could even begin to understand.

But I could offer her my hand as I had done a thousand times before, carefully help her slip off the coat, guide her to bed and say, “I’ll keep watch outside. Nobody’ll bother you.” A comforting squeeze of her shoulder – a reassuring pat on her back. When she began to argue I exercised what little authority I had and hushed her quiet. It wasn’t until she was safely in bed, all wrapped up in layer after layer of warm blankets and furs, that she even found the energy to say:

“Take a load off,” with a sure certainty that I’d do as she asked. “You’ve been working hard as I have so… get out there.”

Tempting enough, but… “Madame Justinia, I won’t just leave you alone.”

“Oh, shut up and go!” The blankets weakly shifted as she tried to free a waving hand. “Gods damn it, you know you want to.”

“Justinia…”

“Don’t – Don’t make me say it again.”

“Alright, okay.” Had to try to sound even mildly reluctant but my own body, that little tremble of the jaw and the hard wag of my bushy tail, instantly gave me away. “If you say so…”

“Go before I change my fucking mind.” Justinia gave me a tired smile and offered up a half-laugh. “Go, have some fucking fun!”

***

I’d quickly become familiar with the ins and outs of the Perenisian embassy, every long hallway and grandstanding room memorised to a confident degree of accuracy that would’ve put the very architects of this building to shame. I knew which windows should’ve been open and which should be shut tight, understood the purpose behind every room and the fastest route to get there, and have fostered a rather keen knowledge of exactly how many minutes it would take to sprint from the embassy’s front doors to Justinia’s bedroom.

Every face I came across, be it a Perenisian national or one of the dozens of vulpers that helped staff the embassy, was matched with a running list of names and affiliations. Acquaintances were welcomed with a smile and a wave while I visually undressed every layer of fabric for weapons and contraband; strangers were patted down, questioned, diligently added to that list of people, and then sent on their merry way.

There was hell to pay if I didn’t get my morning staff lists delivered at sunrise sharp, and I’d make fucking sure that the Security Officer would never have a good night’s sleep if another gods damned stranger slipped through the front gates unabated.

All for a little peace of mind. All to ensure Madame Justinia’s continued safety. She called it obsessive – I called it basic.

But it was exhausting. I missed our time roughing it out on the roads because at least it was just Justinia and I, the stars above and the earth beneath our feet stretching out for miles and miles in every direction. That was easy – it was fun. This was just work.

In all truth, I’d been dreaming about taking a little break. My own duties kept me as preoccupied as Justinia’s did to her, but small passing thoughts kept nagging at me to step out to the streets and… fucking explore.

I was in Gallaecia! Gods damned fucking Gallaecia. The reality of those words didn’t quite strike as hard as it did once I stepped out into that cold mountain air and breathed.

I followed the path presented to me by the city itself, sloping walls funnelling me down narrow cobblestone streets flanked by the shallow entrances of quiet homes and sleeping markets. The light of a full moon and the gentle glow of lantern light accompanied the shrill call of a distant eagle, her silhouette painted black across a milky sky. With every step I felt tension melt from my shoulders, and in that knowledge I was free.

Free to go wherever I please. Free to indulge my own selfish desires. Free to fall for Gallaecia’s unique vices. Freedom, ironically enough, in a land that saw me and my charge as curious outsiders to be gawked at and spoken of, not exactly unwelcome but not outright embraced with open arms.

“Good enough for me,” I spoke into the night as my explorations drew me down a broad alley which curved along between buildings like a serpent’s spine. “Could stand to make some new friends.”

Yet in this freedom I opted not to stray too far from the embassy, choosing instead to sit in at a place where I could always keep a watchful eye on Justinia’s balcony.

The tavern that I stumbled into was unmarked, its entrance almost hidden beneath the cavernous shadow of a stone wall. A local haunt, the kind of spot that tourists would rarely ever find, had such a demographic of visitor been as common in Gallaecia’s capital as they were in Imperial Qu’Zar and Port Ronald. Its dimly lit interior descended down for several feet before opening up into a rather simple and comfortably cool room adorned with dirty tables and a multitude of dusty crates.

Creaking hinges loudly proclaimed my arrival, the sight of me quieting all but the drunkest of vulpers – even they came to a whispered murmur when they noticed me.

A dozen pairs of yellow, gold, silver, and brown eyes. A dozen stout figures craning their heads up just as I hunched over farther than my body’s natural stance to simply stand in the same room as them. A dozen coats of impossibly soft fur and fluffy tails so thick around their bodies that they flowed out from their garments like the pour of water. A dozen frozen and perhaps even terrified vulpers all gawking at that single, curious welk.

I flashed them a winning smile, bellowed out a cheerful, “Hello!” in my tenuous and broken Gallaecian, then slammed a fistful of trellian down on a nearby table, the silver coins’ clinking and glittering faces calling down the first round of cold meads, refreshing ales, and nipping wines.

A round of cheers! Smiling faces crowded around and chattered away in that odd clicking language, the few words and phrases like ‘friend’ and ‘good wolf’ coming through while they poked and prodded at me like the curiosity that I was. The shy ones were content with simply staring at what must have been the first welk they’d ever seen – those who’d worked up the courage to reach out murmured as they examined my hands and stroked that bristling coat of black fur along my arms.

Gods they were soft. I twitched my fingers outward, the smallest gesture so as to not startle the little vulpers, and whispered, “Goodness,” when I felt my digits slip into the silky texture of their fur. Thick for the winter air, grey and white as snow, all of it bursting out of every seam and gap in their garments like the freeflowing pour of water.

One – Naelis was her name – sat me down on a chair two sizes too small for me. Freyd and Distra, a brother-sister duo nearly inseparable at the hip, made sure to bring me a frothing helping of the largest mug they could find. The group of close-knit friends that were Ake, Liv, Oniv, Eskel, and Kalia rushed to make sure they had the closest seats around me, loudly presenting themselves with an air of extravagant flamboyance and well-earned pride. Then there was our tavern keep, Gunnar, an old thick-whiskered vulper of seasalt fur speckled in a fine dusting of black pepper, who kept quiet but smiled warmly in my direction as he counted out each trellian silver with practised dexterity.

They all spoke to me in a hasty arrangement, Freyd and Distra shyly posing whispered questions into the ears of either Ake or Eskel, who’d then bark it out with a distracting sway of their spilling mugs while Kalia, Oniv, and Liv nodded along and hummed in a ‘Hear! Hear!’ style of gesture. I’d have been lost, of course, nodding along with no understanding had it not been for Naelis who stood by my side and roughly translated in her own version of broken Perenisian.

“Where you coming from?” She asked on behalf of the group as an empty mug was wrought from my hands to be quickly replaced with another. They were all already on round two, and gods only knew how long they’d all been here before I arrived.

“Perenisia!” I replied with a growing grin when I noticed the lot of them nodding at one another in understanding. Gunnar beckoned at me with a fat wave of his hand and presented a dusky bottle with a peeling label that read Château Rouge. With a hard strike of my arm and yelled, “Yes! Exactly!” which was more than enough to earn a hearty, fatherly chuckle from the old man.

Naelis wrapped delicate fingers against my shoulder and slipped around to my left side. She had a gentle though assertive touch and didn’t seem to harbour even a scrap of the shyness the other vulpers all shared. “Now asking why welk here.” Assertive even in her broken Perenisian, her words swelling in my chest like the basking heat of hot cider.

“Sharing drinks!” I replied, and raised a mug in cheers to their good company. They all returned the gesture with another round of hoots and hollers, all save for Naelis who squeezed my shoulder and clarified:

“In Gallaecia. Coming to city, why?”

“Ah.” I turned enough to glance at her out of the corner of my eye just in time to see a faltering smile quickly return to form. She was as soft as the others, her fur a thick coat of freshly-fallen snow, so pure and bright. It made the silver of her eyes explode in this tavern’s darkness. “Work, of course. Though I shouldn’t-”

“Working what?” Naelis continued, now fully unprompted by her peers. Her bright eyes traced every little detail of my face. “Many not see welk in Gallaecia.”

“No, I figured you wouldn’t. I, uhm… I’m a bodyguard.” A swig of ale gave me the courage to make a show of my own strength, turning now to the group with a strong flex of my biceps that had Freyd and Distra lean in for a cautious touch. It was only when Naelis translated that their eyes lit up in wonder.

One of them stood proudly tall and smacked a cup of wine against his chest, staining the fabrics of his shirt a bright red, before he was dragged back down and snapped at by an apologetic Liv.

“Ake,” Naelis whispered, “says he is bodyguard also. But he is silly. And drunk. Not protecting important people, like you! More… ah…” She mumbled something in Gallaecian – the entourage of them joined in, barking and pointing as if to help Naelis along before she finished, “... door guard.”

“Hah!” I turned to Ake and smacked him on the knee. A little too hard, maybe, with how he yelped and rubbed at the now tender spot, but otherwise didn’t seem to take offence. “A respectable occupation! I bet you’ve seen your fair share of, uhm, action?” Poor Ake’s blank-faced expression quickly shifted into a wide grin after Naelis translated for me, thumb jabbed hard against his chest as he puffed himself up and proclaimed something loud and proud.

“Told him you said he looks like strong fighter.” Now her fingers roamed father up my shoulder to curiously graze blunt claws at the thick coat of fur around my neck. She lowered her voice and chided, “Bad Silvia, teasing poor vulper like that.”

My second empty mug was replaced with a third, a drink Gunnar sent my way with a thumbs up and a smile. It tasted like bitter wine but held the viscous consistency of a cream liqueur. Fucking strong. The vulpers all cackled when I inevitably stammered and lost a bit of my breath.

“Gallaecian.” Naelis now had both arms wrapped around my shoulders, the flat of her chin resting neatly near the crook of my neck. I tasted the heady aroma of her inebriation in every breath she took and… gods it was a little intoxicating. “Tastes good, ah?” Every one of her little spoken words was like the lick a tongue within my inner ear. “Exotic.”

“Fuck me I shouldn’t have drank it so fucking quick,” but the energy these little guys had was downright infectious. “You drink this stuff?”

“Special times! Drink another.”

“N-No, I… okay, one more.” A frail mug met my lips as soon as it was forced into my hands. “Maybe just another.” More trellians clattered across the table. “Fuck it, another!” The vulpers howled out drunken glee – Freyd struggled to keep his sister upright; Kalia and Oniv nuzzled and whispered into each other’s necks. The whole of my tongue buzzed like the thrumming beats of a hummingbird’s wings, nearly numb on the floor of my mouth. “‘Nother… Nother one!” Gunnar poured from a clay gourd almost half as tall as he was. Ake and Liv held onto each other’s shoulders and clicked off a rapid-fire string of words that almost sounded like an argument, one I had half a mind of intervening in before they grinned and pulled each other into a strong and familiar embrace. Naelis, now perched on the round of my knee, swayed left and right to the off-key tune of a song she sang of… of snow and sands and a little Sommerian prince. “Gods above I love you all so much.”

Naelis snickered as she reached around to tug on my wrist and drag my arm around her waist. Her thin shirt had crawled up along her torso somewhere in the last hour, allowing my fingers easy access to the soft down of warm fur that coated her pudgy stomach. She hummed with delight when I gave her an involuntary squeeze, her wide ears flitting hard before suddenly collapsing as she crashed hard into my upper body. She cradled her head into my chest and stared up at me with those wide wet silver eyes, all but begging as a sliver of her tongue drew a wet streak of saliva across her upper lip.

“I thinking, maybe one more?” I buried in my nose between her ears and breathed deep of her scent, burning into memory the smallest hint of a pomegranate perfume. Gods, every inch of me ached as she rolled the fat curves of her rump across my leg. “Then maybe spending some alone time together.” My eyes flitted upward to see… distractions. Vulpers I wanted to talk and drink with. Stories to be told; laughs to be shared. Gunnar slashed his hand across his throat and shook his head while also pointing at the gourd – either we tapped out his reserve or he’d correctly cut us off. “Thinking Silvia can be more fun.”

“Fun, huh?” I couldn’t keep my words from slurring a little as the drinks started to catch up one by one. No, no, I could have gone a little longer. I knew I could. Gods damned Gallaecian… My claws raked down her stomach and hooked into her pants the moment she leaned up to lick hard along the edge of my jaw. “Yeah, yeah I can be fun. I can be very fun.”

She tried saying something then but I shut her up with a quick nip of her ear between clawing teeth. Naelis’ eyes went wide and her body trembled something fierce atop my leg but that didn’t stop her from practically humping herself stupid against my thigh. That warm puff of shaky air from her lips was the precursor to a slinking tongue I met halfway between our faces with a confidently sloppy lick.

“You’re a brave little vulper, aren’t you?” Her cloudy eyes nodded ‘yes’ while fingers clamped down around my wrist with a confused squeeze, somewhere between stopping my hand from slipping into her pants and further egging me on to do as I wanted. She bit and licked, and in all honesty I struggled to form any more words of confident domination when I finally felt the warm heat of her puffy mound cupped within the palm of my hand. “Y-You’re… goodness…”

“Feels good,” Naelis whimpered into my chin, her slim tongue matting circles of slobber wherever it met fur. “Perfect hands. Big – strong. Not stopping, yes?”

“Never,” I whispered back while rubbing my middle finger with the barest hint of pressure against her fuzzy labia, long slow strokes meant more to tease the little vulper into a horny frustration that earned me more of those drunk whimpers and half-sated moans. “Oh I love everything about you, little vulper. Did you know that?”

She eyed me with a hungry delirium, the way her hands repeatedly stroked my thighs and rubbed against the fat of her stomach only further putting on display the uncertainty of her position. There were eyes on us, so many eyes, their thinly-veiled whispers only growing louder when I engulfed one of her ears within the cavern of my snout and suckled on the appendage like I would a finger. Neleis’ squirming then intensified, that slow and hungry buckling of her hips only further digging my finger into the swollen mess of her fat, leaking cunt.

She should have known better. Getting me drunk, whispering in my ear, sitting her fat ass on my lap, teasing me with those honeyed words… should have known better than to think I wouldn’t have my way with her. Should have known better than to think it was safe in the company of friends.

Friends who openly stared with a hunger of their own when I drew my hand out from the jungle-like moisture of Naelis’ pants to hold that cobwebbing strand of her own juices up to her face. I saw her glare down at it and felt her head turn to look at all the others all the while I slobbered against her ear and rolled the tip of my tongue against the sensitive skin within.

Ake and Liv kept stealing glances in our direction, the poor boy now a cute blushing mess that was taken advantage of by Liv’s hungering eyes swallowing him up whole. Whatever words he tried to say were quieted by a kiss and an affectionate nuzzle, one that followed the obviously warm slide of her hand upward beneath his shirt.

The other three friends didn’t really know what to do with themselves but… stare. Kalia and Oniv were transfixed by the dripping strands of Naelis’ cum, the slick sheen around my fingers growing cold and stale. Eskel tried to busy himself with a cup of wine, tried to act like there was nothing out of the ordinary happening around him, but every time I’d whisper or have Naelis whimper he’d shoot his eyes up and openly stare with a rather obvious hint of excitement.

“Lick it, love,” I ordered, the back of my throat burning with the aftertaste of that sloshing liquor. “My fingers are getting cold – there, just like that.” Naelis’ natural and unrestrained obedience only further endeared her to my heart. The warm embrace of her lips and the tickling exploration of that slim tongue was fucking divine. “You love putting on a good show, don’t ya?”

“Mffhmm!” She stroked my cheek with loving affection and soaked the palm of my hand with her saliva. I could feel the wet streaks of her excitement seeping through her pants and soaking into mine with every downward press of her hips, that clockwork motion keeping her on a razor-thin edge between controlled lust and animal desire.

Gunnar came around, in his hands a cup of red wine he’d poured out just for me. He turned to go back to his usual pensive silence but I caught the collar of his shirt between my claws and stopped him with a too-loud, “Old man!” before dragging him over to scratch a clean line down the back of his neck and place a little lick on the side of his snout. Sure, my Gallaecian wasn’t great, but there was enough up there rolling around in my head for me to put together a simple request: “Don’t tell anyone.”

Glowing eyes and a warm smile was all the answer I needed: our little night of debauchery was safe with him. Though I’m sure that the extra handful of trellian silver I stuffed into his pocket also helped a little.

Then there was Freyd and Distra, the two siblings having slinked off to some quiet little corner, locked pleasantly in each other’s arms. Not a care in the world and far too distracted to see if we were all watching. Lucky them that I was here to hog all the attention.

“Look at what you’ve done,” I teased while reclaiming what was rightfully mine. Naelis nuzzled up against one of my breasts and obediently spread her legs for me, granting easy access to the fat lips of her tight snatch. Fuzzy pubic fur tickled the palm of my hand as I spread her lips wide with my index and ring finger, then slammed my middle one hard against her twitching entrance. “Gods I want to eat you up, little vulper.”

“Do, please.” She licked at my chest, almost desperately trying to have a taste through my shirt while mumbling incoherent requests for her own pleasure. Oh, the way she squirmed. How she rolled her hips into my hand when my finger danced a little tango against the wet seal of desire. Her hands squeezed and massaged her own tits with clear dissatisfaction because it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t my touch. It wasn’t my aching grasp treading ground across the icy surface of her fur. It wasn’t my tongue carving a swirling path around swollen areola and budding nipples.

But it would have to do. There’s no way in hell that I was going to loosen my grasp over her pudgy stomach, the feeling of my fingers sinking into a quivering bed of fur and flesh almost enough to completely distract me from my other hand’s somewhat messy exploration of her loins.

That perverted gurgle, that satisfied, “Ahh!” when my finger began encroaching inside of her, wrought forth a lurching gasp and throbbing need from between my own thighs. Suddenly I was painfully aware of how ignored I’d been, the leaking mess between my legs staining the chair I sat on and absolutely ruining a perfectly good pair of pants.

Her tongue finally, miraculously, found my hard nipple and in the embrace of her alcohol-scented breath I felt my own twitching depths melt and swell like those of bitch in heat, my lips now squeezing against the damp fabric of my trousers in a lurid display of pleasure unbound.

All it took was a slight shift of my legs for me to feel my pants wedge deep into the gnawing ache of my swollen lips. That sharp breath of air I drew, so laden with Naelis’ musky pomegranate scent, hitched somewhere along the back of my throat as my clit was assaulted and battered and bruised. I made my little vulper whimper as my teeth dug into her ear, a whimper I couldn’t help but match loud and needy – fuck, it felt like my womb was threatening to burst into flames.

Naelis nipped at my nipple as my finger finally glided inward, her walls milking, massaging, sucking me in further into her shallow depths. She could barely hold it in, the whole of her body feeling like it struggled to accommodate me with how fucking tight she was. All I could say to her was, “Good girl,” while my finger curled and edged and grasped, burning like a blazing campfire and irrevocably saturated with her cum.

All of them watched with envious lust. All wanted a piece of the action but she was mine.

“Mine,” growled with a possessive bite of her neck as she closed her thighs and bucked into my hand. I felt ragged gasps of air through her chest and the dull vibrations of her stumbling voice. I savoured the grasping strength of her cunt, so desperately unwilling to let go of a single inch of my curled finger. I waded knee-deep in the waters of her lust, with her tongue rolling endless torturous circles around my nipple and the scent… gods, the smell of sex was strong.

I couldn’t keep myself from rutting against her back. I couldn’t stop myself from slowly, carefully, diligently dragging my finger out to the very tip of my claw before slamming it home toward that tender bundle of body quaking love.

And I traced a path up along the side of her neck, and I breathed hot and wild against her lips, and I swallowed her tongue whole with a hard suckle and a dominant clash of my own appendage so she could drink and swallow and never, ever forget about the welk that made her feel so fucking alive.

“How could you ever live without me?” I teased with a laugh and another long stroke of my tongue against hers and my finger into her cunt. “Gods your cunt is tight. I-I bet you taste… taste…” She broke free from the spell of my tongue and somehow found my nipple yet again. Angry teeth dared to slice into my shirt so her tongue could slip inside and lick at her prize with reckless abandon. “Fuuuuck… N-Naelis. Fuck. Fuck.”

Naelis hummed loud, completely lost in her own world as she wrought out pleasure with an endless undulation of clenching walls around my finger. She pinched at her own nipples, bit my own thick one like a sort of punishment for what I’d put her through, then moaned and quivered in a sudden orgasm that I felt course through every little square inch of her body.

Hard, fast, with a whimpering howl and an accompanying sigh, her cunt dragging wet across my hand, the excretions of her climax drenching me down to the wrist. And even then she continued licking, clenching, humping up against my hand to get every little bit of pleasure she could before this was over.

She moaned when I drew my finger from within her, the long strands of her sexual desire clinging to my hand thick and creamy. Just a taste, a little lick, and… “Oh yeah,” I hummed after dragging my tongue across the back of my hand like some self-grooming cat, “you do taste divine.”

“S-Shut…” the little vulper could barely get the word out, opting instead to part from my nipple with one last lick and a longing kiss stolen halfway with a slow dip of my head so she could get a taste of herself on the flat of my tongue. “Welk good. Hah…” Her breathless voice was a marvel to behold, tender and sweet. My fingers grazed her twitching cunt again, a little tease to make her shudder and leak. “Please, I-” They crawled around her swollen clit, tracing circles much like her tongue had done around my nipple. I saw her eyes cloud over again, her tongue falling heavy past her lips while her head rolled around her shoulder. “Too much.” But she didn’t try to stop me when I slid my fingers past the fat lips of her soaked cunt and said:

“You can go for round two.”

She whimpered loud and seemed to turn toward the others for any sign of help. The friends were all too distracted with themselves in several states of undress, the siblings had all but disappeared from the tavern, and our courteous tavern keep simply smiled while nursing a strong ale.

“You’re mine, little vulper,” I whispered right as I began stretching her out again, two fingers instead of one. She shook her head, eyes going wide, then moaned loudly into the air when I broke her clenching seal and slid inward with a wet squelch and a hard shove right up to the knuckles. Gods, the little slut came again. “You’re all mine.”

***

That fucking little vulper made off like a bandit.

Orgasm after orgasm, turned into a quivering drunken puddle of fur and sex, and in all that time I hadn’t been touched once.

The drinks just kept coming. Then the stories. Then more drinks. She’d straddle my legs and bite my neck while practically fucking me with her eyes till I filled her cunt with my fingers just like she’d wanted. Snarling when I slowed down, tugging at my hand when she needed more.

And now, in the long hours of the night, I was fucking alone, stumbling up the streets toward the embassy with a desperate need for a good fucking release because that bitch… gods, that wonderful bitch really didn’t return the favour. Had me all wrapped around her fingers. Turned me into her fucking toy.

It was fucking wonderful.

The guards at the front gate, two vulpers clad in embroidered leather padding who wielded spears as long as they were tall, recognised me the moment I stumbled out of the shadows and thankfully ignored the slurry of words I threw in their direction. One coughed and turned away; the other simply smiled as if he knew exactly what I’d gotten up to.

“R-Re… Re…” I swallowed hard, bit down on the inside of my cheek, and tried again. “Reports.” Shoved a finger into the chest of the one who’d smiled at me so fucking smugly, leering down at him with a look I’d hoped would set the fear of the gods themselves into his heart. “Better not be fuck… fucking me, okay?”

“Ah…?”

“That’s a good boy.” I reached for his throat, grasped at the collar of his shirt, and smiled. “Don’t. Be. Late. Or I’ll be mad.” Did they even know what I was saying? “Hah! Take… take a load off, my friend. So fucking serious.”

The tight walls of the Perenisian embassy slid past me like some ethereal dream. Empty, clean, and a little stale as well. Everything here had been so annoyingly decorated to remind someone of home. Who the hell wanted that? It’s fucking Gallaecia. Make it look like Gallaecia! The last thing I wanted was to be reminded of Perenisia again, that fucking… fucking beautiful land. So fucking far away, but nothing quite like here.

Nowhere was like Gallaecia.

I stumbled into Justinia’s bedroom moments later and found… a sleeping little cat, so cosy and calm. A far cry from the whining bitch I’d left behind. Oh how she loved to complain, droning on and on and on. “Grow a fucking backbone you… beautiful little pern.”

She stirred – shit, did I talk too loud? Or maybe it was the crunch of an apple spilling its wonderful insides down my throat. Gods, yes, exactly what I needed. Should’ve gone for another instead of trying to sit quietly by her side. Should’ve stepped out onto the balcony and breathed that mountain air instead of tracing my fingers along her cheek while whispering:

“Justinia… Justinia.”

Her eyes strained, face cuddling harder into a pillow before briefly following the trace of a finger. No, no, that won’t do. Just needed her to open her eyes to my wonderful little smile. All teeth and tongue and slobber, just how she liked it. Madame Justinia. Ambassador Justinia. My sweet Justinia.

“Heeeey. Wake up. There –” Grinning ear-to-ear when she squirmed, hummed, and briefly opened those sweet blue ocean spheres. “Hello!”

“What in the – fuck?” Lips dry, breath stale… she struggled to open her eyes and swat away my caressing fingers. I sat farther up along the bed and positively towered over her, not satisfied till I was confident in the knowledge that I was all of her world. “Gods Silvia… what time is it?”

“Late,” I replied with a prod of her cheek that made her mewl and hiss. “It’s very, very late. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Sure… sure you didn’t. What is that fucking smell. Are…” She sat up a little, eyes wider now, so very obviously piercing through the darkness without so much as a struggling hint, “... are you drunk?”

“Mmmm, a little bit. A little, tiny bit.” I held two fingers up, an inch apart from one another, then scratched between her ears and hummed with satisfaction at how wonderful her short soft fur felt against my hand. It made my whole arm buzz with joy. “I made a few friends!”

“Clearly.” She held the back of a hand up against her nostrils, more a gesture of her dissatisfaction than an actual attempt at blocking out the smell. Every sniff she took seemed to add clarity to her face, a dawning realisation of exactly what I’d been up to the last few hours. “Gods, please tell me you didn’t.”

“I… I…” I swallowed and felt something sting in my chest. I didn’t mean to – honest! “It just sort of happened.”

“Silvia…”

“I couldn’t say no! It was – I… they had this drink and it was incredible. And I had one or two, and then she told me it was a Gallaecian custom and then I couldn’t say no. That’d be rude, right?” She didn’t even try to answer. Her eyes simply darted up and down my body before settling on my lips, furrowed brows digging into the skin of her face. “So I, uhm, I partook. Mhm. Yeah.”

“Oh you did.” She finally pulled her hand away and took a deep breath. “I can fucking smell it on you, you know?”

“Gallaecians are something else, Justinia. You really need to-! Ah… no, maybe not. It wouldn’t look good if,” I traced my fingers around her small face, then clawed down her neck with little resistance, “the Perenisian ambassador was doing any of that. No, no, no. We need to keep your image pure, pristine, and so fucking beautiful.”

She caught my hand with a surprisingly strong grasp before it slid past her collarbone. A clicking tongue and the small shake of her head chided my actions. But I couldn’t stop talking, could I?

“My sweet, stunning little kitty.”

“Okay Silvia.” She squeezed my hand. Affection? “That’s enough.”

“They gotta know how perfect you are.”

“Mhm. Sure. But you running off and doing,” she narrowed her eyes and sniffed hard, “whatever it was you were doing doesn’t really help that, huh?”

“It… doesn’t?”

“No, Silvia, it really doesn’t.”

“Perenisian-Gallaecian relations.”

She broke with the briefest smile, now holding my hand to her chest. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“Well, no need to worry because your image is safe and sound. I’m fucking invisible.”

“Are you now?”

“Sure I am. I mean… look at me!” Smile. Fucking smile. “Nobody cares.”

“Silvia, that’s-”

“Shhh, hush, shhh.” Now she coiled her fingers between mine and watched with a little frown on her face. “I am invisible.”

“Alright, okay. Yes, you’re invisible. So don’t worry that big head of yours over my image, okay?”

“Mmm.”

“Okay?”

“Okay…” There were two of her, then one, then two. The room spun on itself. “I think I drank too much.”

“You absolutely did. Got a little taste of Gallaecian hospitality, huh. Hey – easy now. Maybe you should lay down.”

Gods, she was going to hate me in the morning, wasn’t she? She was going to… “Please don’t fire me.”

“Oh what are you on about now.”

“I’m… I drank too much.”

She cracked another smile, her eyes darting down a little while she strongly nudged me toward the bed. “Lay down,” is all she said to me with the same reassuring tones my mom used to use whenever I had a really, really bad stomach ache. “Sleep it off. You’ll feel much better in the morning.”

“H-Here?”

“Here.” She refused to take no for an answer. Probably just didn’t want me stumbling around the embassy looking for my bedroom.

Smart of her. She was so smart. “That’s why you are where you are,” I mumbled as she guided my head down into a pillow. The bed was too short, I had to curl in against myself to barely fit in but it was so comfortable. And her body was so warm. So welcoming. So perfect. “You think of everything. They’re… they’re going to love you, Justinia.”

“Quiet now.” She lied down beside me, stroked a hand between my ears, scratched right below my chin, then wrapped us up in a bundle of warm blankets. I didn’t need them – needed her. Warm body purring in delight when I threw an arm around her shoulder and held her close, close, close to my beating heart. “You’re being silly, Silvia.”

“No. No I’m not. I’m telling you – they’ll love you. They’ll love you like… hah, they’ll love you. They…”

“There now. Come on, let’s get some sleep.” I felt the cold press of her nose against my own. Claws crawling up and down my spine. She matched my breathing. Made me feel so welcome and whole.

What a wonderful way to end the night.