Helfer's Busy Day
#1 of Helfer's Busy Day
The rooms at the Lonely Cock were everything the chambers in the palace were not: wooden, over-ventilated, dusty, and prone to bug infestations. They were also open to non-palace residents, the overroding consideration on the nights when Helfer didn't feel the need to sneak a random piece of tail into his rooms. For the young weasel,waking up amidst the dust and scratching chiggers from his fur was a small price to pay for the warm body by his side, ready to start his day off right.
He poked the sleeping rabbit. "Norbert." When the rabbit didn't stir, he repeated the name, louder, and put a little more energy into the poke.
The rabbit grumbled and turned onto his side, away from Helfer. The weasel put a paw on the naked hip, under the blanket, and tickled fingers under the sleep-matted fur of the short tail. "Come on, Norbert. I've got to be back at the palace soon."
"Mmf," the rabbit said. "Norville."
Helfer cocked a short, round ear. "What?"
"M'name's Norville," the rabbit mumbled. "Not Norbert."
"Whatever." Helfer reached around to the rabbit's groin, fondling the warm sheath. "Wake up, little Norville, and let's have a little fun before breakfast."
Long ears twitched. "Listen," the rabbit said, and then turned over onto his back and saw Helfer looking down at him. The weasel saw the slightly widened eyes and heard the rest of the sentence buried in the rabbit's throat. "Uh, Lord Ikling," Norville said, "I mean, it was a long night last night, and..."
"And a nice one," Helfer said cheerfully. "And since I'm payin' for this room, it'll be a little longer of a morning, too, hm?" His paw rested on the rabbit's still-quiescent sheath.
The rabbit looked down as though he could see through the blankets. "Of course, sir," he said, "but I, um..." His words trailed off as Helfer's paw began to massage, gently at first, then more firmly as he felt a response.
"Don't worry, Norville. You just have to get up on all fours. I'll do most of the work. Again."
Norville proved more willing with a little more massaging, which was good. Helfer didn't mind using his title to get what he wanted, but it was always nicer when the other guy was into it too. He didn't make a practice out of forcing himself on people. And he certainly hadn't had to do so with Norville or Norton or Norbert--Helfer had been more than a little tipsy when he'd propositioned the rabbit in the bar downstairs, and the part where they'd exchanged names, though it had clearly stuck with the rabbit, had blurred in his own recollection.
Which was one reason he was determined to get a little more for his money. His memories of last night had faded into a blissful blur. Certainly he didn't remember the rabbit's short maleness, which fit nicely into his paw, though he did remember the musky scent and the tightness that surrounded his own shaft as he took care of the other reason he was being so insistent about the morning. One of the burdens of being a weasel, he sighed to himself with a grin, and one of the reasons he often spent nights away from the castle. It was so much nicer to wake with a cozy rabbit nearby to bury one's morning need in rather than resorting to the ever-present but rather boring and unexciting paw.
For one thing, his paw didn't make nice breathy noises as he pushed his need into it. For another, his paws were better occupied on someone else's hardness, stroking the length, teasing the tip that was still sticky from the previous night, feeling the body tense beneath him. And for a third, his paw didn't have beautiful long ears that flicked and spread and yet managed to remain upright all through their brief tryst.
Sadly, his paws couldn't quite reach those ears, but he'd played with them enough the previous night; at least, he assumed he had. They seemed familiar enough. Anyway, he had other things to concern him: the squirming of the lithe body below him, and his own mounting passion. He lay over Norbert's back and sank his little teeth into the scruff between the shoulders, holding on as his hips thrust up hard under the rabbit's tail. The tail pressed into his stomach, twitching as much as the long ears were doing. The little weasel held on below, too, gripping the rabbit's stomach fur and stroking fast along the taut, hot length hanging below it. Norton squeaked and struggled, making Helfer hold on tighter, his short legs pushing his shaft into the rabbit's tail hole as he felt the familiar snap, rush of blinding pleasure, and spine-tingling release.
"Rrr," he growled, shoved all the way in, his hips pressed up against the furry rump. He felt the tension below him and kept on moving his paw, soft skin on sticky skin until Norville trembled, tensed, and bucked back into Helfer. More rabbit seed joined the dried mess already on the bed, and the rabbit collapsed onto his stomach a moment later, panting.
Helfer let go slowly. He drew his paws along the rabbit's trembling sides, claws tracing paths through the fur. "There," he said. "Wasn't so bad, hm?"
"No, sir." Norbert moaned softly.
Helfer grinned and slid back, working himself free from the embrace. He teased the fluffy short tail to watch it twitch, and then rolled off the bed, brushing his fur out with his claws. "I'd like to make it longer, but I have an appointment."
"Thank you, sir," Norton's muffled voice came from the pillows.
It took him only a few minutes to throw on his 'disreputable' clothes, as Caresh called them. "You can stay here a little longer if you want," he told the rabbit, who still hadn't moved. "Til half-morning. Then they'll be in to clean it."
"Thank you, sir," the rabbit said again.
"No, thank you, Nor...ville," Helfer said. "Maybe we'll meet each other again sometime down in the bar, hm?"
"I'd like that, sir."
"Course you would, course you would," Helfer chuckled to himself as he slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Nobody else in the inn was stirring as he padded down the wooden hallway to the stairs and out the back door to the street. The streets were quiet too, in the between-time where nocturnals had gone to bed and it was too early for decent folk. Too early, he thought, checking the sun as he hurried toward the palace, but he was likely to be late for his run if he went back to his quarters. No secret passage this morning, then.
At the front gate, he presented his papers and asked about the health of the guard's family. Just inside the huge front doors, he stripped his shirt off and handed it to a footservant with orders to leave them in his quarters. His shorts were designed to be loose enough for frisky boys to get their paws into easily, so they were well ventilated and perfectly suitable to run in.
He jogged over to the front garden and spent a little time exploring the flowerbeds. The old red and purple geraniums were dying, and soon it would be time to replace them. He knelt, picked one, and brought it to his nose, inhaling the scent. Volle could smell them standing, even with his nose a couple feet higher than Helfer's, but Helfer'd always felt a keen nose was as much curse as blessing, especially in the palace. The few times he'd gotten close enough to some of the other nobles to smell them, he'd thanked Weasel for the rarity of the experience. Poor foxes and wolves had to walk around with scent-kerchiefs or just endure the assault of the palace's residents less gifted and therefore less aware--and less hygienic--than they.
He squinted at the sun again. Where was that fox, anyway? He'd been out late before, but usually Helfer accompanied him, and he always knew what Volle had planned even if he didn't go along. When he'd seen Volle the previous night at dinner and had invited him out, the fox had declined, saying he was tired and pleading some Agricultural Committee business to attend to. The poor fellow had only been here a quarter of the time Helfer had, so it wasn't a surprise that he hadn't yet figured out that the more one got involved in politics, the less happy one was. The weasel had seen it over and over again, with his friends, his former friends, and his parents.
It was severely late now, and he wanted to get his run in so he could go wash the scent of Norwood off himself. Volle would surely understand if he went ahead and started. But then again, he could just jog back to the palace and ask a footservant to go see what as keeping the fox. He could go himself, too, and while his desire for cleanliness and his coiled energy urged him to run, his sharp curiosity wanted to know what Volle had been doing sooner rather than later. He let the flower fall from his paw and got to his feet.
What happens next? Visit kyellgold.livejournal.com to vote!