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The Dark Warrior

A Distant Observance

Winter is a cold season, in many places. Where I find myself residing, however, all there is to find is warmth. There is plenty of rain as well, but the heated wetness of it against one's fur can be a luxurious experience, when you take the time to indulge in something as mundane as a walk through the rain. Though it is party of my duty, I find it relaxing and simulating, the intense smell of moist flora inflaming my nostrils combining with the sensation of being soaked, covered and completely infused with nature, down to the last tuft of fur, right to the hide at the base of my tail.

It's raining tonight, as I wander around the outer wall of our encampment. Though, to be honest, that word hardly does it justice. Picture in your mind thick walls of bamboo and other heavy tree branches, shaved of their bark and bound together with leaves and vines from the rain forest. The walls stretch for several meters upward, almost three times my height. I stare at them, sometimes, and contemplate the work that went into creating them. We have been here in this place for so long, those who helped in that manufacture are long dead now, but we remain, a sign of their hard work and a testament to the strength of our ancestors who came before us.

This place we inhabit is shared with the creatures of the forest. They make up a part of who we are. We exist to protect this place, this damp woodland, from those who would find it more useful to be destroyed than to exist. We've done a damned good job, too, over the past 200 years or so. It's the first time in the history of us that we have been able to exist in the same place for more than a decade or so at a time.

Anyways, my mind is wandering, and I've gotten off the subject. That happens at times, as I'm sure you experience also. It's funny how our minds wander...but, that's another subject. It's my patrol night, and I get to spend the next several hours walking across the narrow beams of wood which give the wall surrounding our home its depth. The wall is less visible, up there, but not so overwhelming in its scale. From its top, all one sees of it are the sharp points of the logs as they come to their conclusion.

The wall used to be square, say the legends of our home. We have come to call this place Nani Pohaku, which means "beautiful rock." It's named for a stone which sits in the center of what now is the primary marketplace, where the members of the tribe congregate to barter what they create with one another, in exchange for something else of value. The marketplace also serves as a congregation of scents, smells and sights to stimulate even the most jaded mind.

The canines of this tribe, like many others, find extreme covering of their bodies to be demeaning to their natural state. Only those on duty wear armor, thick and metallic, covering the shoulders and only the top of the chest. Our clothes, fashioned of ornate metallic belts and long strands of torn fabric, coated for strength but otherwise unmodified, cover all from the waist down. The marketplace is the best place to go on a day off and observe the others of my tribe, in their most natural and relaxed state.

I've gotten distracted again. I'm supposed to be watching for signs of anything amiss outside of the walls, and yet my consciousness always remains ensconced deep in my home. My body may wander, but always, ever present, exists the desire to be amongst those with whom I share blood, and love, and the passion for survival and for life. It is a beautiful thing, those thoughts, and they bring me great joy.

The rain is falling heavier now. I'm soaked to the bone, and I love it. There are small canopies on the turrets that cover the eight corners of the cross-shaped walls around our residences and shops, trade places and the small building where the Chief takes court when there are disputes between friends and families. Everyone's huddled under theirs, except me. I don't understand why my tribemates don't enjoy the rain. I'm sure they find me equally odd for enjoying being soaked to the bone, my clothes clinging to my fur as if they were a second skin. But, I do, and they leave me to it.

Every muscle in my legs is flexing beneath my fur as I wander back and forth. The tips of my foot claws are digging into the wood, breaking off slight chips of it with each movement against them. The decking is marred with years of abuse, but it remains. As I reach one of the corners of the wall, spending as little time as necessary under the protection of the overhead protection, and begin walking its perpendicular counterpart, I can't help but grin. My eyes have been drawn to one of my tribemates: the one of my tribemates who I find more beautiful than all others.

Anyone from outside our tribe would say many of us look alike. From the physical efforts of our day-to-day labors, we have all developed rather well. Our stature is tall, but not overly so, and each of us is raw sinew and muscle, covered by a thick protective hide prepared to do battle - or to accept the claw marks of a lover in heat. The fur coating our bodies is black, mostly, except for our chests and stomachs, which is a thinner, softer golden fur which feels luxurious to the touch. However, inside the tribe, the definitions of beauty and attractiveness are as varied as our members.

The male whom has caught my attention, however, is different from all the rest. At least, he is in my eyes. We have been friends for so very long. Longer than I can remember, it seems at times. He's standing far from me now, on the other side of the city, also on patrol. However, my eyes can hone in on him from almost any distance. The very thought of it causes me to smirk. As I lock onto him like a heat-seeking missile, every tendon in my back and shoulders clenches, and my body stills even as the fur on the back of my neck heckles, rising in the near-instant arousal he causes in me.

Were we a tribe to suppress our nature, I might be ashamed of the resulting growth in the thin cloths covering my sheath just from seeing this male across the walls from me. However, he knows of my attraction. He has always known, from the moment we first met. I would be remiss to try to hide it, and only fooling myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the wary glance of my comrades closest to me, noticing where my attention is at, but the object of that attention is not yet aware. He may remain unaware for some time, or he may just be hiding his awareness. I don't really care.

The single biggest advantage to tribal wear is the lack of confinement. I can feel my sheath tightening around my length, expanding from within. The tip of it slips out from its constraints, beginning to grow. It presses against my stomach as I drop my elbows to one of the few portions of the top of the wall which is flat, having been carved out from the normal sharp edges to support a ladder leading down to the inside of the town below. There is no risk of attack tonight. It's too wet, and nobody would even consider risking the health of their warriors to fight in this mess. So, I don't feel too bad about neglecting my duties in favor of a good stare.

Ryoma, the male who inspires such derelictions of obligation, has turned to stare at me now. The corner of my maw curls into a smirk, even as his eyes flash with what seems like mild annoyance. It's when he catches me observing him like this when he seems most angry, and I more aroused for it. My cock is growing now against my stomach, and it will not be long before it's digging painfully into the metal belt around my waist. I don't care, however, as he turns back to the two other males he is talking to, mates in his guard, watching over that side of the wall.

"Fucking tease," I growl under my breath. He's taunting me. Not only has he turned his back to me at this point, but he's also made a point to sit on one of the same cut-outs on the wall as I rest on now. His tail is shifting back and forth, seemingly random, but almost taunting to me. I can feel my pupils dilating at the vision, almost like a dream. The cloth hanging down over his backside isn't staying in place, thanks to that overactive length of fur hanging from his back. Instead, the entirety of him is visible, and if I were to squint, I have no doubt I could see the dark, taut ring of his tail hole, buried in the fur between the soft mounds of fur of his backside.

My gaze is intent on him now, and I know he feels my presence, almost as if he were reading my mind. He seems unaffected from my end, though, and it makes me laugh. Ryoma is the epitome of what it means to be a beautiful male, to me. He has proven himself, over our time as friends, to be stunningly beautiful, incredibly sensitive, warm and loving. He also has a horrible temper, and is prone to swings of mood and fancy unlike any I have ever met, especially amongst the defenders and scouts of my tribe. The thought of all I've come to know of him, and the conflicts in his own personality, makes me laugh slightly even as I close my eyes for a moment and imagine him in my bed, surrounded and captured beneath me, filling myself with him repeatedly and growling carnally into his ear, making sure he feels every emotion I have for him with each thrust of my length deep into him.

There is a presence to my side, and I can't ignore it now. I lift myself to a standing position, and turn at the waist, the hide of my stomach visibly contracting as I shift. "What do you want, Kamari?" I growl softly at him, licking the tips of my fangs.

"You know he hates it when you look at him like that," the other male snarls at me. He always makes a point of baring his fangs at me when he talks, especially about Ryoma. I think he's got a crush on our tribemate as well, but is far less honest about it than I. "And you're making a fool of yourself, standing here on duty with your dick hanging out of your cloths as if you were a dancer down on the street, trying to get some attention."

I laugh softly, temporarily wiping my many erotic visions of my friend from my mind, to meet the eyes of Kamari. He is among the leaders of the tribe, the power over the defenders. My boss, if you will. It doesn't stop me from being a complete ass to him when he decides to treat me like a child. "I will do as I please," I respond, growling back at him. My arms raise and extend outward, and I raise my face to the falling waters, smiling as it dampens my fur completely, licking at the fluid as it coats my nose. "Nobody is going to attack tonight. Not in this mess."

He's had about enough of me, I can tell from his expression. That, and the paw reaching out and grabbing me by my upper arm, digging his claws into my hide. I narrow my gaze at him, but he seems unaffected by it. "I don't give a damn whether anyone's going to attack or not," he says. I notice his eyes turning away from me and wandering over to Ryoma, who has stopped his teasing now and is gazing back at both of us with a curious, wonder-filled expression, and it rises in me the need to suppress a laugh.

"Fine, fine," I respond, not really in the mood to listen to him gripe again. I yank myself free of his grip, turning to look out the wall. A thought strikes me, knowing Ryoma's eyes are on me as well, and I grin as I lift my own tail, feeling the cloth covering my hindquarters slipping from side to side. My own tail hole is deeper and darker than that of the male I desire, and the ring of muscle at its opening clenches slightly as I allow myself a reverse of the intense fantasy I had only moments before.

"Just do your job and quit daydreaming," Kamari hisses at me before wandering off.

My mind fills with more thoughts, just random flitterings of love, desire and lust for a close friend. It causes me to smile as I make a point to bend my upper body parallel to the ground several meters below, the armor covering my waist almost completely moved aside by my tail. "Here's to fantasies," I say, toasting myself. Even though Ryoma does not desire to love me, he has proven himself capable of the desire for physical pleasure with me. That, and I know he loves a good tease.