The Gnoll
Story by GreyKobold on SoFurry
11,000 words, written from 7/28 to 8/2. Raw file - no full editing as of yet, but I need to get this out there.
Contains: Gay Sex, Face-Fucking, Blasphemy, Sex as Worship, Prayer, Snarky Elves, Romance, Kissing, and worst of all: Hand Holding
The Gnoll, based off a series of dreams, and I kept faithfully to them. I hope you enjoy.
Comment, critique, creepy comments are all welcome
Gnolls do not smell as bad as people imagine.
I was sitting in the bar just off of the main town road, when I first saw him. He was big, he was broad, and he had the look of seeing things not of this world about him. His mohawk was thin, and the mane of hair about him fell about his skull in stringy patches, stained with dried blood. He was injured, a poorly wrapped gash showing in the grey fur of his side - the bandaging running from hip to under his arm in a brown stained mess.
His eyes met mine, and his round ears flattened.atop his head. I leaned forward, an arm on the table as he limped into the tavern and leaned heavily on his leather wrapped bone staff. He turned his gaze to the still owner of the establishment. The rattle of charms on the staff clicked in the now silent room, and the guttural, pain-thick voice of the gnoll lifted, demanding a place in which he could rest.
No, not being an acceptable answer, was not on the menu. Shuffling for a key, the bartender extended out a brass key. The key was taken in a dark hand, and the gnoll growled again - looking at the key number. He shuffled past - and the room was silent in the wake of the feral brutes passing. Eyes turned to me, as the drink hovered near my lips - and a questioning was present on their faces.
“What?”
Room Five.
The smell of blood was present, as well as the ichor of a wound that would need further treatment than a bandage. Though I stood outside the door to room five - with the spots of blood visible on the floorboards in front of the scratched door. The bartender and three brave townsfolk had followed me without my asking - and were holding clubs in the event it was needed.
My look made them cringe - and they stepped back as I knocked on the door twice - and a third after some seconds. No answer came - and I waited, listening. There was growling and scrabbling about behind the door. I waited, swallowing from my tankard of ale, which really tasted like piss now that I was away from the crowd. I waited, tapping my boot and looked back at the owner of the tavern, who gestured again.
I rolled my eyes and knocked again, before a weak grumble called out to go away. I turned to leave.
“Fifty gold and a free meal. Just… just take care of it.” He said, as though the gnoll behind the door would be unable to hear us. I sighed, looking at the coin pouch he had pulled from his belt, then looked back at the door. I rubbed my brow with a palm. “You paladins have to do something about it. It’s your holy law! He’s a monster!”
I swore, though thankfully in Celestian. They wouldn’t know, and no one here was an angel to realize the anatomical instruction was not exactly possible. I swore and turned back to the door, and gestured for the owner, the greasy weasel-faced shithead, to open the door. He used a master key on it and the door unlocked, permitting me to enter.
“I am entering.” I said, and pushed the door open, only for it to thud against something heavy. I looked down, at the foot that blocked it, then up at the glaring face that glowered down upon me. My, he was a tall one, his pale fur almost bright in the dim room. He said nothing, looked at the rest, then grabbed my neck and hauled me in. The door slammed shut behind us.
He was big. Bigger than I had thought now that he was close, wearing almost nothing, and leaking blood down his ash and white fur. Glaring at me with a narrowing of his dark, crimson eyes. His hand crushed my throat and I wheezed for a breath, my own arms straining to keep myself from choking completely. His eyes narrowed on my face, and he sniffed me.
“Should kill.” He said, pain breaking out on his face and blood pooling down his side from the injury that, now bared, looked quite nasty. I was amazed at his resilience as I swore I could see bone. He breathed deep, and a spasm dropped me, while he staggered back from the pain in his side. I looked sympathetic, but pulled myself up - glad to have narrowly missed breaking my head on the edge of a dresser.
“You need help.” I said, after a moment, straightening my tunic out, and frowning at the blood present on it. He held himself up with a strained hand, and his lips were thin and pale, clearly needing some help with his pain. I felt a pang of sympathy, even with a monster before me, and I reached a hand out to settle on his good side and help him steady. He slapped my hand away and reached for me again, but it was clear he had burned a lot of energy on me already. “Hey. Let me help you.”
Yellow teeth were bared at me, and he snarled, trying to stop me as I pulled him to sit on the bed, and got close to look at his injuries. He gave alow when when my hand fell on his hip, and I touched near the angry red skin, blood staining my bare fingers. I sniffed - the wound was starting to sour. Another gaze into red eyes told me how glassy they were, and that he was really too hot for his species. I frowned, and pushed him onto his back.
Stripping him was easy - a belt pulled the cloth off, and a yank of the vest tore it from his torso. He was covered in injuries and bruising even under the fur, and it was clear he had suffered much in his journey to get here. Why here and not the healers enclave I didn’t know, but I did know I would have to work hard to help save him. Infection would kill him as sure as if the axe wound had hit his heart. He was growing weaker as he lay there, and fear filled his eyes, as well as a defiant anger at his state. I could admire that. Defiance was a virtue in the face of the inevitable, or so my learning had been - and I gave him a stroke on the cheek, murmuring soothingly as his growls gave way to a whine.
Pity is a virtue as much as compassion, and seeing him like this, I had both. I softly stroked his face, and drew in deep from the wellspring of divine power that was my right as an oathsworn of Bahamut - Father of Dragons. I drew deep and placed my hand on his side, and began to pour it forth into his being. The silvery-platinum light filled this space and the stench of corruption began to burn away, while my other hand pulled the wound open, to scoop out the black that began to bubble up. It was a nasty injury, but it was nothing beneath my Will. .
The only sign of change was the breathing of the now unconscious Gnoll - who lay still now, and peaceful. I gazed at the injury, now an angry, scabbed over scar than something bloated with corruption. My hands were thick with filth, and my shirt was truly ruined, as were the leathers of my pants. The room stank of it, but even that was fading in the echoing memories of platinium light. I wiped off my hands on my shirt, my mouth dry. I needed a drink.
But, the way out was blocked by a ghostly hyena, who sat, staring at me with eyes of the brightest gold I had ever seen. When I reached for the handle, it growled and nipped me, but only enough to tingle the skin, not draw blood. It looked at me, then upon the resting gnoll, then again to me.
“Bartender. I will need some drinks and food. I said. Leave them behind the door. And, uh, take the price from my reward for this.” I said, loud enough they could hear. The Bartender mumbled something, but I ignored it, and sat on the edge of the bed,, to look at the sleeping form, who was far bigger than I had thought, now that pain did not hunch him. The room was hot, and I removed my shirt, to wipe my hands off with the last of my ale - at least I could try to clean them.
It was useless, but the shirt was ruined anyway.
It was five days in that hot room - with only a visit to the water closet that gave me a chance to relieve myself and escape the heat of the room. The ghostly hyena did not move from its spot, though did permit me to get water and food - and allowed me to spoon feed the soup into the exhausted and incoherent gnoll on the bed. Sleep was hard coming - the bed was full, and I wasn’t exactly sure sleeping next to a gnoll was safe. Many times I had to extract myself from the tight grip of the burly body in order to get exercise or prayer in - but over all, with the added books sent for my pursual, it was restful enough.
Five days and coming on night for the sixth, and then the grey and ash gnoll awoke. His eyes, no longer an intensely burning red, looked at the ceiling, before turning his head to look and sniff at me. A growl lead him as I looked up from my book - and he reached for his staff, which I had moved to settle beside the door.
“Out.” He growled, in a voice which underlay a growing strength. His lips, now dark again, turned to snarl.
“No.” I stated, crossing my arms and gazing at him. “You are still very weak, and I won’t leave you without assurance that you are both no danger to these people, or to yourself. I didn’t waste nearly a week just for you to run off and get yourself killed. I don’t mind healing fools, but if I can help it, I will, you understand?”
The Gnoll glowered, but turned his head away with a snort. He glowered and tried to sit up, but only rose after I held my arm out for him to grab onto. He nearly pulled me onto himsellf before I hooked my leg on the bed, but he sat up, and grunted with pain. The injury at his side was mostly healed, and a daily application of prayer and bandage helped keep it closed and clean. He stroked it, and his hand shimmered with light over the wound. It was a weak light - but clear that he was trying to ascertain his own problems.
“Good healing.” He growled at me, nostrils flaring. “Less pain. No infection. Good. Am good. You should go.”
The words were odd in his mouth, and I looked at the dark patterning across his face and snout. My eyes narrowed, and I felt a pressure at my temples, and reached to put a hand on his face. He blinked, eyes widening in surprise before his mouth opened, but I had all I needed to feel what lay upon him. I felt no malice and tasted sweet honey on my tongue, and smelled his scent from so close. It was not the bitter stink of evil, or the bland of those who took no part in the divine battle between heaven and hell - but the sweet taste of honey, and a scent of someone clean, despite the sweat on his pelt.
“No.” I said, after a moment - my brow furrowing in response to this new thing. My lips were wet, and my tongue washed away the sweat on my upper lip and beginnings of a moustache. “No. You need help, and you aren’t fully healed yet. I would be remiss in my duties and to my oaths to leave you without help. And I’m curious why a gnoll would go to the city to seek help, instead of his own people.”
And why a gnoll would smell of honey and sweet air. That was unusual.
He had no words for that, and I slowly pulled my hand back from his face. I could see heat on the ears, and a look of anger that faded to shame, that faded to nothing at all. His eyes were distant, and the red iris looked down to his bare thighs. I avoided looking myself, not wanting to dwell my gaze on black sheath or scrotum. I supposed the fact gnolls were big was true in all salient ways, if my own glances had been enough.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again with an audible crack of bone-breaking teeth. I lifted a glass of water up, freshly poured from a pitcher, and used it to cool myself - then thought better and offered it to him. He took it, and drained the pitcher eagerly - as though it was as good an excuse not to speak than anything else. The pitcher was handed back, and his hand brushed mine. I felt the same warmth as before, and looked at the dozing hyena at the door.
“Plus, how can I leave with him keeping me here? He wouldn’t let me go out, except to get food and drink. I probably ran through my purse at this point. Still, at least it was for a good cause, I doubt Bahamut will be opposed to it or my time here.” I mused, and finished off my own water, only to grab up and offer the cold stew to him. He snorted at it, but began to eat, and I joined him.
“Dragon King. Honor, Nobility, Luck, Wind, Good.” He replied, as though reading it from a tablet or tome. His eyes lifted up to my face again, and he gruffed at me. His eyes turned his head away from me and to the window, dark and dirty and needing a good bit of cleaning. I gazed out too. “Have no use for Gnolls.”
“I suppose there have been few gnolls in service.” He stated and looked at his grey and black paw near his thigh. His claws, black, were glossy and long - he could use a trim I would expect. “But it doesn’t mean that you can’t try to reach out.”
“No God for gnolls. Not the Howler. Not the Reaper. Not the Bloody-Muzzle. No Gods for gnolls. Rejected. Spill the blood and drive away into the harsh lands, where water is dry, and food is sparse, and hate fuels the sun. Not these soft lands.” His voice grew morose for a moment, heavy with emotion that he would not spill or breath. “”Not call on Gods. Call on spirits.”
“Then why come here?” I questioned, with a genuine interest in my voice. “The encounters with your kind are rare, occasionally violent, and never simple. For one to come this close, or even into, civilization - alone, I might add - was almost unheard of. I’m thankful, but curious what would bring you here.”
The Gnoll looked over to me, his weak mane flopping as his head turned.
“What’s your name, anyway?”
My guests eyes were distant, looking out the window and at something a long time ago, in a time long since past. I watched his face go through contortions, a symphony of emotions that ranged between rage and sadness, confusion and bitter realization. His eyes closed with a tight squeeze, as though fighting a deeper emotion - and settled back on the careful mask of neutrality. It took him effort to turn his head and look at me, his fangs showing.
“I am Azah.”
“Azah? It is a pleasure to meet you, Azah. I am Giovanni Barberini It has been a pleasure tending to you - but we both desperately need a hot bath, and I need to change And you, well, I can see you need clothing that is not stained in blood. Can you tell me what happened?”
The heat of the baths was provided by a small hot spring deep below ground - something that had been found by a traveling dwarven clan whom had taken a month to get their bearings. They had carved a beautiful bath of the natural stone, and over the century since then it had become transformed into a significantly more involved complex based around the generated heat of the hotspring.
What this meant is the two of us lay in a pool of hot water, soaking the heat and letting the clean mineral water move away a week of sweat from both of us. An attendant had served two drinks in permanently chilled glasses, muttered a spell to cleanse the water, and given us privacy - not even flapped by the presence of a gnoll in my keeping. In the hot water, a look of bliss on his face, I admired Azah for the ability to enjoy this for the first time.
“The Plains. Past the ruins of Nefer, and the Tripple Oasis, the pack of the Bloody Muzzle. After she ascended, her daughters roamed, and followed her ways. I was of the pack. I was converted. I remember little before this time. The magic makes hard.the memories, the words. The thoughts, it feels like too many things, not enough space in my head.””
“Battle. The packs clashed over rights to watering holes. We, we attacked with the come of night, when it was cool.Sent the spirits of the Hyena to attack. They responded. Bows. Size of you.” He murmured slowly. “We clashed. But were driven back. They countered with thunder and roars.of stone.and great rocks came to land amongst us. Some of the pack died. Others broke limbs. I tried to heal them. But the powers never came.”
“Powers?” I asked, as I ran my hand over his chest, then began to scrub the soap in. He jerked, startled, but didn’t push me away. Indeed, his eyes closed again, with a heat running his ears, and over his snout for a moment, before fading back to the ash of grey and bone. I began to bathe him, and found myself wondering at the texture. It was short and bristly beneath my hands, and the muscle of his body was thick. Scars were present below it. “You are a magic user?”
“I…” He struggled with the words, visibly. “Yes. Shaman. Was… not always. But hard to remember time before the packs.”
I reached up to his face and turned him to look at me, and our eyes met. His eyes of crimson were rich, like staring into garnets in the heat of the sun. I held his face, still digging the soap into his pelt, trying to lather him up all the better. It was a long journey, for when stretched out he towered over me, almost a third of a meter taller than my 1.85 meter height. I ran my fingers deep, getting the soap good against the dark skin beneath.
“Azah. Take a deep breath. Tell me about what you remember of the times before.” I pulled my hand back, both of my hands now working across the torso, the soap masking but not quite covering the heady odor of his body. But, it was not foul - I found. After five days in close quarters, the odor was almost pleasant now, and very familiar. I was reminded of the plains, and the sun, and a strange, disquieting need to hunt with my bare hands. I caught myself before burying my face in his belly and breathing in deep myself. “I want to know.”
Those beautiful eyes closed, and his chest swelled with power of a deep breath, lungs filling with the hot vapors of steam and mineral water. He let out a low growl, but it was not present with hostility, for my hands were under his ribs, and he squirmed slightly, though weakly. THe injuries had healed, but were tender spots on him, and even the silver line in the fur where I had healed was sensitive. I found this by accident, but still washed him.
“Always lived on the plains. But buildings of wood and clay fired. Remember this clearly. Others not much. Cooking from an old woman. Children. A temple to the…” Words hesitated, thenf altered, as he shook his head out rapidly. “Life. Good life. Hard life. Farmer. Prayed at shrine for… crops. But packs came.”
My hands were at his hips now, and I massaged the soap into his fur with thick strokes - getting the lathered and his body a shade that was lighter than I had expected. I knew the water would be dirty after our bath, but the grey of it struck me as odd. I pulled my hands away and scooted through the water to ring a brass bell, in order to summon the attendant to change the water. That done, I turned, but the gnoll was there before me, standing. I looked up, his soapy exterior heavy with water that still ran.
“Pack came.” He took my hand, and guided me back to the water, and began to return the favor of bathing me, his pads rough, the soap strong, but his attention meticulous, as though he had bathed others before. I welcomed it, my arms raising over my head. He lowered his head and sniffed my neck, his growl pleased with what I had to offer. “Smell like black kernel pepper.”
“So I hear.” I said. And the hands ran down me, getting my chest hair, down my belly, washing me with a completion that I hadn’t expected. But he turned me, his hands upon my hips, and faced me away. There, my shoulders were bathed, and he held me with one arm around my chest. He was strong. His hands stroked down, claws running their path a fraction of a moment later. He was thorough, even as his hands slipped lower, and lower, and to my hips and didn’t stop.
A cough broke my trance, and I looked up at a displeased looking attendant, who tapped her foot impatiently. I looked around, trying to clear my head of the musk and the sensations that made goosebumps run up my skin. Still the attendant stared at us.
“That kind of behavior is not tolerated here.” She glowered at us. “We are not THAT kind of bath house. Finish up and leave, now.”
I was confused, and turned to look at Azah who was frowning, and his teeth showed in a snarl. His Hyena sat on the steps, staring with what was an amazing display of displeasure and cold fury, but it made no sound. The Attendant glared at us, her hand swirling the air and casting side the filth in the water. With it went the soap and I felt clean, as I dipped down to finish off. This bent me, bumping my hip to the gnolls. I jerked upright and didn't dare look back again. I think I understood the attendant’s reaction, and now felt it press against my lower back.
“Nothing untoward was happening, but we will leave.” I said. The hand of my companion, which was a rich black in contrast to what I had thought just very dirty gray, held my shoulder. I looked up shyly, his fur almost white with stripes of black through it - a ghostly color with only the barest touch of grey. He cleaned up beautifully, even his mane shimmered in the dim light of the bathhouse.
We left soon after, I in my breeches and tunic, he in a sheet wrapped around his middle. I would have to secure him something soon.
I had to go through four traders to find one that would even talk to me, and two more before one would see to trade and fit something for a gnoll. The large brute, who I saw was almost two and a quarter meters tall. He moved with a swaggering gait, shoulders hunching him forward. He lacked the self consciousness I would have if I had attempted to go about in all but a sheet.
The trader was an elf - and a wild looking one who bore his hair in a tight weave, with shaved sides of his head. He gazed at me with an impassive face, and the gnoll with a similar disinterested look, before looking down at the wares available.
“The Packs came. I remember.” He murmured, pulling up a tunic that was big enough, but would barely cover his pudgy belly. I looked at it in turn, finding the color agreeable at least. “They raided. Demanded. I think. That is how I met them.”
“Met them? You weren’t always this?” I pulled up a bow - old, and in need of further repairs, but it was a clear and set thing. I turned and weighed it left and weighed it right - and found it to be just off. I frowned and put it down, the elf eyeing the thing himself as though offended that it existed. “You see like you might have been someone, or something, else.”
“Maybe. It is hard to remember.” We both looked at a long robe, which had seen better days, and I judged it worth the price, but knew the yellow wouldn’t be that fetching. “Remember the questions. Eyes of blue. Laughter. Pain. And then. Nothing. Waking up only shortly ago. Blood, pain. Shock.”
We both looked at the elf. Unflappable as their kind often were, they tapped a long, slender finger to their chin, and crouched, rustling through a few boxes. I glanced at my pale companion, his garnet eyes gleaming for a moment. I suppressed a momentary laugh, and shook my head.
“So, no memory, just the pain in your side, and the need to come to civilization. You went to a hotel room to, what, die in comfort?” He nodded, and I winced. “Glad I was there then. You aren’t what I imagined a gnoll to be, but, you aren’t a true gnoll, are you?”
“No. I am a Gnoll. This is clear. This was the choice.” He growled at at me, then sighed - chuffing his amusement in a bitter laugh. His eyes were far away again, and I could hear, for a moment, the sounds of where he was from. I shook my head out, and I took his hand up, which startled him out of his trance. He blinked at me. Slowly. “I am a Gnoll.”
“Yes. You are a gnoll, Azah.”
The Elf stood up A tunic was tossed onto the table with a belt - the tunic a deep shade of green. The green reminded me of summer grass, and it was large enough to touch to his thighs. The gnoll slithered into it, and stretched - it didn’t strain, rip, or pop a seam - so was good enough for me. The belt gave him a shape, his broad hips rather solidly packed. I didn’t stare at his fuzzy tail poking out either. With it, a pair of short pants were thrown in. Seven silver was the price and I paid the elf, who smiled, still silent.
At least he looked better, and didn’t have to wear the sheet. I tried not to think about what I’d glimpsed under the tail. Why was this gnoll keeping me distracted? I grunted, and took his hand and lead him away.
“You are a good gnoll, Azah”
The Gnoll snorted, and gave a nod. The silent ghost of a hyena, of eyes golden, seemed to laugh without sound. I glowered at it, and it merely stuck its tongue out at me in response to that. I took the arm of the gnoll up after thanking the merchant, who only gave me an enigmatic smile in response to my words. They waved us off, and leaned back against their stool, which seemed to wobble a bit. Poor make - but the merchant wasn’t exactly making a fortune selling their junk-wares.
“But elves are still odd.” I murmured low enough for only him to hear.
We continued on, and my hand found a comfortable groove in his own paw to hold - our fingers laced together, and I was drawn to the gentleness inherent in his manner. The rough fur was now like silk, and his eyes held a bit more strength to them, and his scent was much improved. I had to stop myself from taking a deep breath from his shoulder and arm now and then - difficult as it was.
Our walk didn’t take us far though. My hand was held as we talked of nothing - and I learned of what he could remember. He talked of the savannah and the oasis, and of life in the pack - what little he knew.of it. He spoke of the journey here - it had been a few days in the pack, that he recalled, before a battle. Another tribe had launched at them, and an axe had bit into his side. He remembered that now - his thoughts glowering and my hand squeezing to reassure him.
But we stopped, when two others stepped in front of us. Both bore a leather cuirass, and the badge of the city guard upon their shoulder, and both rested hands on their maces. Behind, a third stepped out, placing themselves between us and our continued walk.
“Paladin Barberini, you and the gnoll are to report to Judge Kleinstein, to answer for theft and damages.” The one behind spoke, and the rattle of chains suggested it was not a request. Indeed, a glance back showed manacles hanging heavy in his hand. I grimaced, and heard a growl of the gnoll, who balled his other hand into a fist. “Not paying for your room is a crime here, Paladin.”
“The room was paid for, Guard Captain.” I responded, my hand falling to rest on the hilt of my long sword. I gripped the pomepl, and my fingers curled lightly, but I did not let go of the gnoll’s hand. He was growling. “And no damages were done. There is no need for chains for either of us.”
“We don’t trust gnolls, and I won’t have one without a leash. You? I don’t know you and your temple isn’t prominent here either. So put ‘em on.” He grunted, pulling his bar-mace off its hook. The sense of danger continued to grow around me. The other two followed suit, and I saw spittle fall the snarling mouth of the gnoll, his hackles raised and tail arching. He was not happy about this either. “So put. It. On.”
I didn’t see the blow that clipped my shoulder, the pain was muted thanks to the poor angle, but it would bruise rather nastily. I winced, our hands falling from the other, as I pulled my sword. I slapped away the second mace strike, and dodged around to cover the gnoll - who had taken a hard strike across his ribs - where I”d healed previously. Thankfully, he was a well packed creature - as it didn’t immediately drop him. He swung his fist out - catching the guard in the jaw, but it didn’t stagger him more than he’;d been used to. The captain swung the chain, and it struck the back of my knee, sending me down with a painful pop.
I was at a disadvantage - but I had been in worse situations, to my chagrin. I stood, intercepting another blow - and spun my blade around to strike the flat to his wrist. He grunted in pain, his moustache’d lip quivering a moment, but tried to strike me with it again - only to freeze in place as the gnoll pointed and snarled a word that fled my mind. He took a blow for it - and howled in pain as his leg collapsed under him. I pivoted, and slammed the pommel of my blade into the side of the guard’s skull, a satisfying crack sounding out in plaza.
People were running - clearing away and watching as we fought. The Gnoll howled out as the blow fell on his leg again - the third time it raised to fall on the aching spot. The blow readied to fall - and I knew I’d be in for a long week of healing the leg if it hit. I lunged - but the bar-mace from behind struck my back, crashing me to the ground. The mace fell.
And the guard screamed, as an arrow split the flesh of his fist, between his middle and ring finger, and pinned the mace to his hand. THe mace went wide, whispering past the stretched out leg, and hit stone. The guard yelled at the arrow in his hand, He looked accusingly at us, and I turned to look at the guard - just past him the elven merchant was lazily nocking another arrow. This, he gave a quiet nod, and pulled again.
The Captain of the pair looked at me, the gnoll, and downed guards. I kicked the leg out of the injured guard, who bounced his chin off the pavement, and went quiet. He looked at me, then the gnoll, then turned and began to run. The Elf sighed, and pulled the bow again. I stod, trying to wave to them to stop, but the arrow whizzed pats my head, ruffling my hair, and I turned in horror, only to see the arrow land square in his left buttock. The captain yelled and fell, writhing in pain.
Well, that was better than I expected.
“We should probably go.” I said, my fingers glowing platinum and silver light as I touched the gnoll, who shuddered, but stood. Of the guards, I checked their pulses and breathing, and found them alive, if out. I then turned to look at the elf. They blinked slowly, and gestured into the alleyway with a thumb, before turning to lob something at their stall. I heard a bottle break, before a loud ‘WHOOMP!’ of flame engulfed it. I stared, but the gnoll dragged me into the alleyway.
While true, the scriptures of the Platinum Dragon didn’t care for one running from ones actions - it was also known that a Paladin who did not show discretion often did not make it long in his career - and so fleeing the scene of our self defense against three of the city guard. We ducked and we jogged, each step carrying us further and further. We ducked through a washerwomans yard, and I charmed her with a smile as we continued on. Soon, the sounds of the city changed, and I knew we were lost - but at least we were away.
Away - until an arrow landed near us, and a look up revealed the elf, who waved, and pointed at a doorway. Understanding, we went in - and found ourselves in a warehouse, stuffed with crates and boxes and the smell of people who had been in and out for years. I looked about - expecting to see someone to ask for an explanation, but it was quiet. Behind, the door closed with the elf, who was collapsing down their bow and slipping into a pouch on their belt.
“Exciting.” They said, a voice androgenous. Behind them, the ghostly hyena sniffed at their flank and sneezed loudly. Scooting over to hop onto a box, the hyena watched with curious eyes. I did too. “A Paladin fights the city guard, and does so to defend a gnoll. They walk and hold hands. It is like a romance novel. How delightfully quaint.”
“Quaint?” The Gnoll asked, his eyes narrowing and a glower seeming to flow out from him. “Not Romantic.”
“Sure.” The Elf replied - before meandering over to take a look at his injured shoulder. Fingers dusted fur, and the gnoll tried to pull away, but the grip was like steel. Humming, the elf licked a thumb and ran it through the fur, before nodding. Then down they went, checking the leg. “Oh, you’ll need a bit of a bandage here.”
The Gnoll glowered again, but calmed when I slid my hand into his own, and exhaled another burst of power, which helped sooth the ache of his body. I ignored my own, as I stroked his arm, and those beautiful garnet eyes looked upon my own. He dared to smile, and it lightened his face beautifully. I bit my lower lip, then shook it out. Why was I feeling so drawn to him? He was brave, and strong, sure, and he had shown a capability for power and protection. I grunted, and pulled my hand away, but he kept it close.
“Cute. Don’t worry. It doesn’t prevent a Paladin to be a Paladin, if he loves his own gender.” The Elf said, then walked on through the crates, pausing to study a spot, then turn in a random direction - or so it felt. We made our way through a maze like set of paths, only to end up at a door, that lead to a small office. Inside, a bed lay, with a chest and desk for working on papers. “Come. You are welcome here. There’s a corruption of the guard and governing body that you have stumbled upon. You’ll need to lie low. For letting me help, I’ll let you stay here until safe to move.”
“Are we stuck in a room together again, for another week?”
The Elf laughed, a musical tone, and lay their head to the side, blinking slow. I was distinctly reminded of a cat I had known growing up - an alleyway tom who ruled without question, but was an aloof yet friendly critter. This one had the same owlish loo, and the slow blink to signify mirth.
“What a horrible fate, I know.” They said. “But I can gather your things while the two of you wait here. In a few days it will smooth over. If you wish to remain to root out the corruption, Paladin, you and your husband will be much welcome to join us.”
The Gnoll started, and my mouth opened, but I looked up and garnet eyes looked down. OUr brows knit, almost at the same time, and we both stared at the elf.
“I’m not gay!” I said.
“He’s not gay!” The Gnoll said, at the same time as I.
“Sure you aren’t.” The elf said in amusement, and stepped out the door, which clicked with a locking. I blinked, looking up at Azah, who stroked at his face with eyes closing tight.
“Wait. Are you?”
“No.” He replied, with a sudden dark glower at the elf who was long past the door. I looked up at him, and smiled despite myself. He had a handsome face, and strong muzzle, well defined and with lips as rich as velvet night. “Gnolls do not put credence to preference. If it is good, it is good. If two males want, two males want. No shame in it.”
“Oh.” And my mind turned places I had not yet considered. But still, our hands did not leave one another.
And I caught, in the corner of my eye, the golden eyes of the Hyena shining, the ghostly thing letting out a laugh that, had it been capable of producing sound, would have shaken the room.
I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling - it had been two days in the room - and I lay only in my barest small clothes, because I didn’t want to get my fresh outfit dirtied with sweat. With the Shaman’s careful help, and a tub we found in the warehouse, we both could bathe regularly, which, though lacking soap, did help with keeping the cleanliness up. He wore nothing, and I was careful to avoid staring at him. There was little to do but talk.and share our stories - and I told him of my youth.
My head was upon his thigh and I looked up at him, his strong hands slowly working his fingers through my hair. I had learned to brush out his fur, and he had taken the initiative to do the same to my long hair. Having just bathed in the tub, with soap that had been found after a quick look through a few boxes, I felt luxurious - and indeed, I was pampering myself with the relaxation these two weeks had brought me. Garnet eyes looked down at me, and I let out a contented sigh.
“Hair is so pretty.” Azah said, stroking through the blonde, and getting out the very last of the tangles. Each pull from the scalp sent literal shivers down my back, and felt better than it had right to. I breathed deep, pressing my nose to his belly for a long draw off his abdomen, and sighed. He smelled good too. “Popular amongst the females, yes?”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and shifted against him a little more.
“No, I have never been with a woman, my friend.” I spoke, and my smile couldn’t help but stay. He made me feel good, better than anyone else had. My cheek brushed the fur of his thigh slowly, I finding the stiffness a pleasant sensation on my cheek. “Never found myself with the right one, I’m afraid. Too busy with being a paladin to settle down.”
“Yes. Need companion who can guard back, as well as cover it.” My gnoll murmured, hands now on my shoulders. His eyes twinkled in the heady light of noon, though the room was high enough a breeze flowing through would cool any hot from the day.
“Yes. Better that way.” I agreed, my eyes closing, as he pressed his hands down onto my chest, stroking up my bare skin to my throat. I was touching his own now - feeling the muscle and the fur, and feeling the healthy oils. I stroked to his shoulders, then down each arm. “Someone strong enough to keep up. Someone wise. Someone who I can hold, and who will hold me. Someone who I can be loyal to, and who will be loyal to me.”
“Yes. Is good.” He responded, his voice lower. I felt his breath near my face, and the heat blew across my lips. I opened my eyes, and felt heat rise in me, my loins, and my face. His mouth was touching mine, and his tongue pushed into my own, as i gasped in shock. But shock fluttered away with the stroke of his tongue, and I couldn’t help but give a small, tiny, little moan. His breath was strong, a murky heat that danced through my mouth and lungs, but nothing in compare to the hot tongue that stroked my own. I grunted - but I didn’t reject it. No. Nothing had felt this right, not even taking my vows of service to the Platinum Dragon. “Is very good.”
“Azah.” I said his name, but maybe I was praying too. My head was swimming, and he pulled his lips away, with a trail of his saliva connecting us still. His eyes met mine, and his ears lifted, a look of his own enjoyment present upon him. “I…”
“Paladins talk too much.” Was all he said, and his mouth met mine, forcefully this time. I gripped his head, and his hands gripped my scalp, and he dug his tongue deep into my mouth,s weeping it over my teeth and gums and roof of my mouth. I fenced him, battled him, and my fingers gripped his scalp to hold him. His scent dipped stronger, and he dragged his claws over my belly and chest, leaving marks that burned, but I couldn’t care, because everything burned and felt good. I was drunk on him, and I drunk him deep - our kiss lasting long - so long that when we broke apart, I could swear it was dimmer in the room. I was shivering, and I went to sit up, but his hands pushed me back down, and he held me there, head upon his thighs. “Paladins should do more than talk.”
My mouth went dry.
“I want to do more. But what? I do not wish to ruin a friendship.” I said, but my mind fet confused for this moment. I stroked a hand across the warmth of his jaw, and brushed a fang with a thumb. “I…”
“Talk too much.” He rasped, and his fingers sunk into my hair, to hold me in place. His eyes were darker now, and I swear I heard a laugh from his spirit hyena. The damn thing laughed too much, but, I talked too much, he was right. So I said nothing, as he cupped my cheeks, and stroked my lips with a thumb. I suckled it when it got too close, and he gave a noise I had not expected. He liked it, especially when my tongue ran the pad. His breathing was quick now.
“Yes. Talk too much. Less talking. More doing.” He gently pushed my head back, and it slid down his thighs, and then slowly, as they parted, I felt the warmth of flesh against my brow, and it felt slick with heat. I didn’t look, but my mouth was dry again, and my body went into a full shiver. THe heat was intense, and the scent, how could I have missed it? I felt a burn through my spine, and a roaring in my head, and my vision was darkened when he pressed against my face with those large, heavy, and all together hot scrotum. “Be more than friend. Be more than just a companion. But Paladin’s mouth has better uses than talking right now.”
I wasn’t gay. I wasn’t, was I? Platinum King, if I wasn’t, why did this feel so right, with his scent right in my nose, and my mouth pressed against his sheath? I was licking it, tasting it, running the rim as the dark head had prodded free, and was pressing against my lips, smearing it in the raw, thick taste of him. I wasn’t gay, but my mouth pushed up and I licked him, exploring the urethral slit, and drawing my way across him, circling the head, and pulling him into my mouth. His balls contracted, sitting against my nose, and he drew up over me, and his stance widened to be on either side of our makeshift cot-bed. I could see, but what a sight, as his grey and white balls, streaked with black stripes, pulled back, then covered my nose and vision again.
I wasn’t gay. But this felt so very, very right.
And then he was hardening in my mouth, and t felt the inches grow, pushing over my tongue and into his weight opened up against the back of my throat. He pulled back and thrust in again - and the muscle of his thighs flexed under my hands. He was strong, as strong as I was if not more so - and he was coordinated - each push meeting my lips, and getting deeper, even as he grew, and grew, and grew. Soon it stopped, but my lips were stretched, and I would have it no other way. Still I prayed, fear rising up in me, and I wanted to breath, but the heat from his scrotum made thinking hard.
Platinium, was this right? Only the cool of the symbol at my chest stayed, and I rolled my eyes shut, as my mate thrust against my mouth again, his hands near my hips, and his tail lifted high. He was groaning, and growling, and panting - each noise a symphony greater than the choirs of the high temple I had grown in, and the squelches and wet slurps from my mouth were the highest prayer I knew. I felt blasphemous to think those things, but as he pushed against my throat then in - and all without a gag - I couldn’t find myself caring.
If this was wrong, I would cast away my vows, and have this again.
And with that, my Symbol warmed at my breast, and the golden eyes of the Hyena stared into mine - as my garnet-eyed mate thrust into my mouth again and again, and I was comforted. Those were correct - and good - thoughts. I surrendered to my gnoll, and my hands gripped at his buttocks, and pulled him down again, his strong hips began to impact with my face. I grunted, but I loved the feeling, even as breathing was hard now. My lips slid down and up the large, black hyena cock that had been fed to me, and I licked it, not losing suction as I worked him over with earnestness. I wrote my love along the underside, and cleaned off the sweat and oils of his sheath, each time kissing me, and I felt heat bloom as he went down my throat. He was full thrusting, and I was taking it - without a complaint.
His grunts grew hotter, and deeper, and I wrapped my arms around his hips, watching the large orbs contract and bounce, but growing tighter against his groin. I pushed my face up and nuzzled them, only to pull back and lay my head on the pillow. Still he thrust away at my mouth, his tail hiked, an I could feel his strong buttocks flexing under my palms. He grunted something, I couldn’t hear, but I soon felt it when he shoved in deep, and heat exploded down my throat.
It was like silk, hot and smooth as his penis throbbed, and throbbed, and his ballsac contracted tight enough to wrinkle. I watched, eyes widened, as his heat flowed, and each pulse felt like a benediction and atonement for every wrong in the world. I heard him snarl as he gave to me, then pulled back, that the thick, musky, raw flavor of his ejaculate spilled into my mouth. I tasted it, coating teeth and gums, and washing away all other tastes as his beautiful flesh fountained for me. I tasted it, I chased it around in my mouth, and I swallowed it. It was raw and strong, but something told me I would be getting used to it. And, better, something in me wanted more, as he began to taper, after my fourth mouthful, and still.
I lay under him, panting for breath, and he still in my mouth. He soon sank onto me, pinning me down, and his sac loosened, to lay on my face. Each breath was tainted in him, and as I held and stroked his buttocks, I knew I would have it no other way.
“My God is happy.” My gnoll said, and he lifted his head from my shin. He was much bigger than me, in every salient way, but I was quite thankful for this fact, because he was warm against me. I buried my face into his groin, and experimentallylicked the inside of his sheath, which had settled to my lips. He gave very contented noises at that, growls and yips that did little to get me to stop.
That is, until the door opened, and I looked up at the elf, who looked rather surprised. I guess my blush was worth it, as the elf dropped my pack and hurriedly shut the door.
He would tease us both about this, I knew. But for that look? Worth it.
“Elf talks more than Paladins do.” My Gnoll said, and slowly raised his hips. I felt a whine leave me, not wanting to be taken from his glory, but he did raise up and stand, and stretch out his legs. I could still taste him, and I loved the way he filled my belly. He looked at me, then approached the door, opening it, that the elf could look at both of us. The elf was struggling to compose themself, but this clearly had been beyond expectations.
“I was only joking.” The Elf stated. “I did not expect-”
“Paladin is my mate. Elf is friend. Was showing Paladin what good mate does for his Gnoll. I am thankful for his things. But we are busy. Have to consummate mateship and it takes more than just one go. Elf will go away now. Nothing is as important as this. Come back tomorrow. Bring mead to celebrate bonding.” The door was then shut before the elf could get another word in, and Azah, my handsome Azah, turned to look at me with a predatory gaze. I felt like I was in danger for that moment, and the electric thrill made my gut tighten, and my cock harden again. “Paladin should get out of clothing, or his Gnoll will tear them off him.”
My heart raced, and I hurried to comply.
He leaned back against the door, while the sound of mumbling elf began to fade. Azah’s eyes watched with interest as I pulled down my belt ,and stepped out of my pants - which were good for kicking away. It felt good to be like this, but I was shy - having had him in my mouth was one thing, but this was something else entirely. He made a pleased noise, eyes narrowing in contentment. He liked that I was vulnerable - and better, he liked that I was with him. Slowly, he approached me, and drew his hands over my shoulders, and stroked my chest, claws leaving marks on my skin.
Down the hands went, tracing my chest, and pausing to pluck at my nipples - then down, across the emblem of the Platinum Dragon hanging on me. Those fingers toyed with it, but did not burn, and I did not feel an interruption of what it represented. Another hot breath danced out of me, and his hands fell on my belly - stroking, caressing, kneading into the muscle of my gut. I was thin - nothing like my father or my brothers - but I had made it work. I was leaner than them - but oh, my gnoll seemed to like it. His hands slid lower yet.
He closed his hand on my hips, and his claws dimpled my buttocks. I was touching him too, admiring the trail of fur that ran belly to groin, and my left hand ran across his chest. I leaned in to touch my lips there - breathing deep from his scent, which flooded my lungs and made my head spin. No one should smell that good, but oh, he was exceptional. The wild was on him, the hot sun and plains and other things. And I buried in close, before his insistent nuzzling turned my face up, and he kissed me, hard and oh, so very hungry.
His lips were a rich flavor still, even with his semen still on my tongue. He kissed me hard, and our tongues met. My penis ached with its stiffness, and his pad was warm, closing around it and stroking it. I fit neatly in his hand - and he held it with affection in his gesture. His strokes were slow, from tip to root with ringing of the forefinger and thumb. Each stroke down, was met with my hips pushing up, and he tended me all through our exploration and kissing. Oh, ever the kissing. I could not get enough of his mouth, which was my heavens and my elysium and it was the verdant fields of Valhalla and more, so much more. It was divinity, and it was worth worshiping, and I wanted to worship him!
And with a growl, and a tightening of his hand - and a pull on my shaft I felt my knees threaten to buckle, and the bliss of this communion of two went through me, over me, into me. I arched, I bucked, and I shouted into his mouth and he laughed, a deep rumbling that flooded me as everything went white hot. I shuddered, my penis feeling as though it were exploding - for it was, and his hand grew heavy and with my own gift, my own seed - lesser than his, but given nonetheless. I was shuddering as I came - and he held me up, watching my face. Everything was a haze, but I knew he had captured me, and that I was his.
He was my Gnoll, and I was his Paladin.
“I know I’ve only known you for so little time, Azah, but, I think I love you.” I said. He looked to me, and his voice carried a laugh to it - before he pulled his hand up to look at the mess I had left splashed across his palm. He eyed it, then me, then his tongue swept across the mess and cleaned off what I had left him. He licked it off and gave a roll of his tongue to try and get more of the flavor. After a moment, and a nod, he pushed his mouth over mine again, and pushed me back. I stumbled, and landed on the bed with a thump.
He loomed over me, so tall, and so strong, his pale fur and his grey stripes marking him as something so alien to what I had been raised to know. He stroked the sides of my head, and laid me back. The tight wool of the frame held me, and his hands drug across my thighs to the back of my knees. Pulling them open, pulling them up, to settle my ankles on the shoulders - he watched my face, intensely. And there, he holding me, he stepped in, and I felt the weight of his genitals press down against mine. He was so much larger than me, but I did not feel ashamed. No, he was a gnoll - of course he would be larger.
How my breath caught, seeing the dark flesh growing again, and covering mine, his testicles pressing mine to my hip, and his hands - those big, strong hands roaming my legs. I watched him spread my legs wider, and grind himself against me. I grunted, the weight growing full on my loins, and his black rimmed sheath peeling back to expose that dark length. I swallowed, the tip pressed against my bellybutton - and I shivered. He was so much bigger than I’d expected, and I had swallowed him to the sheath.
But looking up at him, my elbows to the bed, he looked down in eyes critical and full of thought. He pulled my hips up and pulled back, only to cram the head against my backside. I gasped, my heart was racing and my head was filled with a roar not unlike when I surrendered my heat across his fingers. He prodded me, and I felt him press against my anus - tight, and never before touched. I swallowed - but nodded. I knew it would hurt.
It did, forcing muscle open, foring the ring to spread, even wet with spit.and anticipation and sweat. He pushed in, and I arched my back - gasping out and closing my eyes as burning filled me. I hadn’t expected the jab, but he held me down, and his hands clenched to my thighs. I cried out, as he shoved another inch in - and held there, waiting for me to adjust.and get used to him. My heart raced and my heart thundered, it hurt. But his eyes were on me - steady and focused.
“Breath. First time always hurts. But next time is better.” He swayed himself, each motion kicking through my head. I shuddered, a painful motion, but still he pushed in. Back, and up in again he worked, his precum spilling and making it glide a little easier, and a little quicker. He pulled back, my ring stretching to accommodate, ad pushed in again. It was a little easier, but still hurt. “Will always be better next time.”
He pushed, and my guts were made full. Down, he bent over me, pressing his hest to mine, and he held me. He thrust slowly, and each motion rocked me. Pain continued through me, and I grabbed his chet - looking up at him with a hard gasp.
“G-Grease. We n… need something to make it easier, Azah.” I gasped again, my asshole aching more than I wanted to put words to. His ears perked up, and he nodded, pulling out of me and making me nearly gag with relief. PUlled out, he stepped from me and turned towards the drawers,leaving me resting with knees to chest - if only to avoid moving. I didn’t want to do anything but lay there, because it was quite uncomfortable to move. “Please.”
He looked through the room - sorting boxes and opening drawers in the desk that had been left in the room, but nothing was found. He walked on past the door and stuck his head out - then exited, leaving me to lay on my back, exposed to the cool air that blew in. I was thankful - my sweat covered brow furrowed. Each breath was a gasp, I could feel my heart beating, and my cock was hard as a rock, even with the ache.
He was not gone long - with a crashing of a box and a grunt - but he returned, cock bobbing as he entered back into our room. In hand was a clear vial of olive oil, which head already begun to drizzle over his erection. I laughed in thanks for that - I had heard stories even if I’d never before partook in this kind of action. He returned to his position at my haunches - and reached down to run his fingers across my cleft. The finger pushed up, smearing the oil over my backside, and it stroked my broken in ring. He rumbled in contentment, and smeared two fingers into me, stretching me. I had to shudder.
Quivering, both in a flash of pain, and in the tickling, teasing, stroking sensation. My head hung back, now off the edge of the bed and his fingers sunk deep - it was starting to feel good, especially when his palm stroked against my sac. I looked at the window, at the sky so beautiful, the warm light making me feel drowsy for a moment, even if his fingers made my loins ache hard and painful. They withdrew, wet on my calves, as he returned to stand between my legs.
I breathed deep, he was thicker than two fingers were - and harder to boot. Our eyes met as he stepped forward, and I winced as he pushed back into me, this time a lot easier, and a lot slicker. The opening still was uncomfortable, but the muscle stretched wide, and I took it in, I took it all in to the base. Gasping hotly, I squeezed him, and he stirred his hips to savor the feeling of me wrapped so tightly around him. He was big - and he filled me. Gods, how he filled me, and left my head spinning.
And then he pulled back and thrust, and everything I knew about anything went white hot. I heard a guttural, shuddering moan and only realized it was me when he thrust again - the sensation of my soul leaving me and I watching from from above filling me again and again. His arms wrapped me, and he thrust, his garnet eyes to mine, but I wasn’t seeing it, I wasn’t seeing anything, I was existing with his large cock up my ass, and my insides rolling, dancing between painfully full yet needing more, to white hot pleasure with sparks of agony.
I knew glory, and the love of gods, and I knew I belonged no place more than underneath my gnoll, legs in the air, toes curling, and his body pinning mine down. He thrust, the clap of his hips loud in the room, and his balls - oh so large - hitting my rump cheeks. He pulled and met me again, again, again, each motion making me lose my sense of self, and each squeeze a prayer, a benediction, an atonement in the most divine of ways. His claws dug into my sides and drew blood, but I couldn’t feel it - I could only feel him pinning me down, and thrusting again.
“I love you.” I gasped, and his mouth met mine, with a growl, a bite, a taste of blood and teeth and feral lovemaking. He thrust me into the cot again, the thing shaking beneath us, and my toes curled against his shoulders. I was not used to being bent double, but I was doubly not used to being penetrated, and I loved it. I loved his face, savage and feral and beautiful - a hyena muzzle that snarled, marked white and grey, with stripes above his magnificent eyes. His ears focused on me, and how I spoke words and made noises I knew meant nothing, but were everything. He squeezed into me and slapped deeper and harder, shaking me.
The sensation of lovemaking was completion - and two souls in union as one - and this I needed. I put my hands against his face and pulled him in for another kiss - and he bucked faster, harder, deeper, stirring my insides and making my body ache with a hunger for more. And here my eyes rolled back while white fire shot my loins, as his long, thick shaft touched a place I knew not to exist, but was greater than every prayer that I had ever had.
The sensation was everything in me, and I lost myself in the moment.
And he thrust still, until with a grunt, and a snarl, fire splashed into me, with a thick, shuddering convulsion leaving him. He was cumming inside of me, and nothing in the world was as good as that feeling, of someone I loved filling me, flooding me, opening me up to new aspects of the world I had never before considered. I was enlightened in this prayer of two bodies to the only god that mattered in the moment - Love itself. We had made love, and were making love, and it was a completion of our spirits. I felt him inside me, and not just the long, thick meat between his legs. I felt him in me, and he lay atop me, holding me, and filling me deep.
“I love you too.” He whispered into my ear, squeezing me. “My Paladin.”
And all else was a rush of panting and heat of bodies coming down from the high of such an act. I knew not else, but him, and the bed, and the beat of his heart in my ears. I was loved, and I was in love, and nothing else mattered.
--
The Elf would return later, of course - both with a bottle of very fine wine, and with an understanding that they had walked in on us at a bad time - and the show that, apparently, ring-leaders of the underground movement to disempower the leadership of the city had gotten to see. It was awkward, but I strangely didn’t feel bothered. They had no plan, but needed further help.
And over drinks we discussed things - though not in the room that smelled so much like sex. We discussed things and we made plans, and I found myself recruited into the plan. I had little dealings with politics, but after my encounter with the town guard, and how they had treated my Gnoll, said enough. There was a reason I came here, I surmised, and the eyes of the ghost hyena confirmed the feeling coming from my amulet.
Together, my mate and I would do good.
And so, we sat, I drank a glass of wine with my beloved, and I leaned into him, holding his hand while we plotted treason. And it was good.