FSE

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You choose to test your mark's prowess and challenge him to a friendly sparring match. A faint chuckle from all three of his heads rings out in unison before one of those heavy paws claps you on the back. "I am always up for a rousing match or two." He says, looking you over. He calls a Firbolg over to mind the bar in his absence and ushers you out of the building. You see that he's leading you to a path into a small worn-down clearing with a couple of crates strewn about. "It's where the guardsman come to train in the mornings." Shaking those images out of your mind, you prepare yourself.

He directs you to one of the crates containing the wooden weapons, and you temporarily discard your steel. He is simply standing there, waiting for you to be ready. He doesn't seem to be using a weapon himself. Though you figure with his build and his natural means, he wouldn't need to. You get in place across from him and begin setting the rules. Fairly standard in practice: no blows meant for long-lasting damage, a clean hit counts as a win, and three such hits declare the victor. He nods his agreement before getting into a stance, with you responding in kind. Both of you count down to begin, and as you reach one, you decide to make the opening move. A test to see if he is aiming to go through with this. A simple overhead swing, making it just a touch faster to see how he responds. All he does is step aside, eyebrows raising as if in a challenge. Is he goading you, or just assuming you're playing around? Fainting a side-swiping slash to go in for a thrust seems to get a response. You see him begin a half-step backward to avoid it, before catching on to your trick and grabbing the wooden blade in his large paw. "A nice attempt, I'd say." He says softly, the eyes of his leonine head taking on a peculiar glint. He counters by pulling the blade, and thus you forward with it. Trying to halt it by pressing your feet into the turf only kicks up a little dirt. The flat of his palm makes contact with your gut soon after. He isn't supplying a lot of force, but armor still hits skin and smarts. "That'd be one." He almost purrs out, his goat head conversely begins tutting under his breath. He lets both you and the wooden sword go, allowing you to get back in position. You begin the attack again, opting to go for a swing toward his chest, before kicking out at a leg. You miss on the swing as he bats it away, but your strike at his legs makes contact. As he is hissing in irritation from your boot hitting him, you feel the sensation of something coiling around your leg. The realization hits you right as that serpentine tail pulls you down. Landing flat on your back, slightly dazed from your back and head hitting the dirt. Looking up at him, you see he is just a little amused by what just happened. "Sorry, a force of habit. But, that'd be one for you and my second?" He says, voice wavering as he tries not to laugh. Getting closer to the possibility of losing to this... this BEAST, along with the fact he seems to find this funny fills you with frustration. So, while he leans over to help you, you lash a kick at his other leg to throw him off balance. To your credit, it does cause him to fall; however, he does end up landing on top of you. Catching himself, he does manage to avoid his full weight landing on you, but you do end up with your face buried in the mane of fur on his chest. You can't avoid taking a sharp breath of air due to his weight knocking some of the wind out of you. With that breath, you manage to get a nose full of his scent. The faint sweetness of lavender undercuts the scent of his sweat, and you find yourself liking the combination. Breathing in his scent along with feeling his weight and his warmth on you leads your mind to wander. Thoughts of how it would feel if you had your armor off and made bare, skin-to-fur contact against one another. Or better yet, if he were to do other things with you...

Your brief fantasy was cut short by your prick betraying you and making itself rapidly hard at this line of thought. Making your underclothes rather tight, and much to your embarrassment a slight *plink* can be heard as your rising dick slaps against your packed codpiece. You feel his body stiffen up as he hears the sound before looking down at your flushed face as he raises himself slightly. Both of his frontal heads have a mischievous smirk upon them as he pieces together just what sort of state you're in. "Oh? So was -this- your plan?" He purrs out of one, and the other tosses you a wink. "Well, there are plenty of ways you could've asked. Especially during that peep-show of yours." He trawls, watching as your face becomes a vibrant crimson. You stammer out an objection, but it falls flat. You find yourself unable to fully oppose what he's saying, wrapped up in the embarrassment and arousal of your imagination. Being stuck like this and breathing in his scent doesn't help much, as your mind flashes to thoughts of how intense it may get while he's in a full rut... "Aww, poor thing... Too worked up to even properly reply." He taunts as he takes one of his hands and slowly removes the side straps of your armor. The eyes of his leonine and caprine heads locked dead on yours, almost piercing through your very being. You unconsciously begin pressing your hands against that big, furred chest of his. Not to push him away from you, but to get a feel of the muscles underneath. His stripping of your armor is methodical, but by no means slow. He slides your breastplate free and moves it aside, raising his hips slightly so that he can better access the strappings of your chausses. That serpentine head of his slowly makes its way up to your leg from underneath as he does so. The sensation of its smooth, cool scales sliding along your hot thigh, elicited a shiver and a needy sigh as you suddenly grasped a handful of the chimera's chest fur. "Cute." That lion head purrs into your ear, causing another shiver as his breath hits your sensitive neck. He finishes undoing your chausses and tosses those aside as well, but doesn't bother removing your pants to relieve your obvious tent. His serpent head has that covered as you feel a length of cool scales go from along your thigh to slowly wrapping around your prick. You tense up in pleasure and excitement as you feel those cool scales move up and down the length of your member, a moan escaping your lips. You feel his large hand start to roam your body as you get stroked off by his snakehead. The contrast between his natural heat and the chill of the scales feels divine. You allow him to have his way as he goes on, teasing out responses as he pokes and prods at sensitive areas with the serpent coiled around your cock and stroking away all the while. You feel yourself getting overloaded by all this and feel your balls begin to tense up. You bite on one of your fingers to hold back the louder moans as you get closer to release. Your entire body begins tensing upright as you hit your peak, and the pent-up pressure of the last few days finally gets released. You fire shot after shot from your prick as you reach orgasm. Soaking the inside of your breeches in seed, a noticeable wet patch is now apparent. He watches you pant and catch your breath from the ordeal of your intense release, before slowly pulling himself from atop you, a sizeable bulge evident in his trousers. You make a motion to attempt to get up, but he holds up a finger to stop you. "Not now. If you're seeking a taste of this: ask the barkeep to allow you in the back. You may want to clean your breeches up before heading over, though." He teases with a chuckle, before fully standing up and walking off, chuckling to himself.