FSE

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This is a short story commission I've done for Callafox

Description: A young man down on his luck joins a hunting party in order to track a marauding beast, yet when his party proves more of a threat than their prize, he sets out to find it on his own. What he happens upon, however, has a canine body, a deceptively witty tongue, and a surprisingly fluffy tail.

Aidan(c) belongs to me

Noa(C) belongs to https://www.furaffinity.net/user/callafox/

***Werewolf's Prey***

Aidan never imagined himself drooling over the smell of roasting hare like some starving bum. Only, he was a bum, all things considered. No money, no prospects, not even the freedom to choose how to earn his keep in this ragtag band of trophy hunters. No wonder people preferred a noose around their neck rather than enroll in magically-enhanced beast hunting tasks. The search for them was as miserable as the grim task itself.

“We gonna hear any more of those fancy tunes? Or has your creativity dried along with your humor?" Krennan, the party's archer and least tolerable person flicked a bone in Aidan's direction. “We haven't rubbed salt on that raw, virgin pussy of yours so far, have we? So go ahead. Earn your keep. Might even earn you a bite or two."

None of the other four men rushed to his defense. Why should they, those depressive wretches? They didn't care for themselves, let alone others, waiting for the hunt's end to sort their fate out.

“I've got the perfect one lined up," Aidan brought his flute to his mouth, smirking defiantly. “Called the she-bear man's wonder."

He didn't wish to play it for this gang of simpletons; to sing for his supper like some coinless drunk stumbling from one patron to another, hand outstretched. But if it earned him a bite of that nicely seared meat…

Aidan was just about to start before an arrow just shy of his bollocks almost made him pee himself.

“Next one finds its mark if you keep testing me, eh?"

“There, there," the usually tame and indifferent Hardron interfered on Aidan's behalf for the first time since their journey began. “No need to get his pants all wet over the uncouthness of another. Not like he composed the damn song, did he?"

“Mhhh…" Krennan backed down, but not before he shot his arrow in Aidan's knapsack. “Sorry. My bad. You can keep that one."

Not like he had anything worth damaging. More than half of it now bore dirty clothes Aidan no longer had the coin to wash and dry at an inn.

Nor stay at one, for that matter.

“Any other requests before I turn in for the night? One song for one meal?" Aidan asked, and the entire group chuckled in derision. Ugly bastards, through and through, with the archer winning by a wide margin with his greasy red hair, short and wiry beard and cheeks as hollow as his gaze.

“Offer your ass, and you'd still go hungry." The archer grinned with his disgusting yellowed teeth, returning to fletching arrows.

At least the rest of the entourage was silent. Three day's trek through forested terrain did that to the mouthiest bastards. Aidan liked Hardron most, a former city guard still wearing his mail, shin-guards and dour look.

“Oy," the least likely person to aid him shared half of his ration with Aidan. “Gobble up. Can't have you go dizzy from hunger before I put my poisons to the test."

Yrron, a gutter rat from across the mountains, continued his work of grinding the poisonous leaves, mushrooms and berries he had plucked during the day in distinct recipients. How throwing daggers would help fell the beast they were after, Aidan had no clue. A bow was far better suited for the task—or even the spear of the grizzled fellow hard at work in devouring his dinner.

He had heard tales of Xaenvar, notorious for its lack of individual noble houses. Everyone worked in service of the crown, being allotted wealth depending on how well they rendered their services. The more generations, the greater the land and fame. Maybe those skinheads really were up to something. Not that Yrron could still be considered one of them, having let his hair grow to his shoulders, paying more attention to maintaining his goatee and trim the mustache forking under those squinty, perceptive eyes.

“I'm done," Lennan, the best dressed of them all thanks to his tanner's shop, growled with his raspy voice. “Decide who takes the first watch between each other. If I get woke before the sun shows up, I'll toss the mouthiest brat into the fire."

That…wasn't him, was it? Could be. High possibility of that, actually. Aidan tried his best to retain his composure, not even able to savor the divine taste of meat while listening to all these idle yet convincing threats, mostly targeted at the sole noble among them.

“Makes my work easier," the more amenable and equally broad-shouldered trapper said, retreating with his companion into the dappled darkness. Halgor, was it? Aidan never did good with names, more so when their bearers seemed to wish him dead more often than not. Perhaps they might think better of him if he made mention of how he intended to reject his share of the pay, more interested in what a trophy carved from the hillarg they pursued could provide.

The name of his family might have been dragged to the mud, but joining a hunter's guild on account of his exploits was a good start in resuming his previous plan, of joining any of the three war schools in the prestigious city of Navergron.

If only his damned father hadn't backed that pompous, good for nothing Brolldren… news of a lesser noble house tumbling down amidst the rubble of a high noble dispute always spread like wildfire, closing gates before him at every turn. Nobody wanted a reject as an apprentice.

Not unless he came to them with more than just a piece of paper with some text scrawled upon it and sealed with the mark of a deceased house.

Aidan's thoughts shifted from his present situation back to the retreating men. How could they reject the fire's warmth? It had to be the cloaks. Aidan found them more of a nuisance than a boon, heavy and distracting on his spindly body.

“Here, have those too," Hardron handed him out a few strings of meat plucked from his meal, along with a tough hunk of bread. “And put that damn thing away, lest one of those bigger and fearsome fellows makes you blow on a different type of instrument with those pretty cheeks."

“Thanks…I guess…" Aidan graciously accepted the offer, the guard's grunt more unnerving than friendly.

“Better do more than guessing tomorrow," the archer set his newly crafted arrows into his quiver, bundling his legs to his chest as he set his head down on his folded tunic that he used for a makeshift pillow. His linen shirt fared worse than his dust-caked face, torn under the arms and overly loose. “Got three other parties chasing that hillarg, and we don't need a tracker to find our way back."

Charming man.

While Aidan enjoyed his particularly bleak dinner, plans on how to get ahead of his party whirled in his mind. This group recruited him out of necessity, not choice. If they stumbled upon another hunting party chasing after the same contract, a so-called hunting accident might happen, and not because of the strangers' possibly flaring tempers.

Irrational as it sounded, Aidan's best course was to set out by himself, find the hillarg's hunting grounds, and return to his group with solid proof. Molting season made that easy for him, but also dangerous, for those dumb flightless birds were known to change their hunting habits while their feathers exchanged into sleeker ones for summer.

“I'll take the first watch," Hardron offered, grabbing his sword to rest it on his lap. “Get some rest. You'll be needed sharp and rested tomorrow."

Aidan nodded. Between him and Hardron, there was nobody available to fill in that position. The archer would be next, followed by the imposing Halgor. Aidan liked those two the most. Simple men with simple goals, honest in their pursuits. As he rested against his knapsack, idly staring at the crackling wood spit out embers into the dark, sleep tempted him to close his eyes. To give in. To rest and continue onward with four possible meat shields.

Too bad he wasn't that type.

“I'll take the second watch," he volunteered, knowing that the archer was a sound enough sleeper to remain completely oblivious during the implementation of his plan. The guard nodded, leaving Aidan to piece together the downfall of his house in order to keep himself awake. His mother and sisters had a good second plan to fall back on, courtesy of his aunt's tailoring business, but his brother was not a man for hard labor. He likely enrolled in the legions, where the coat of arms shrouded the past and welcomed him into a new brotherhood.

Aidan could have been there with him, had he been born four years later, but instead, he ended up alone, coinless, and unwanted by the reputable schools requiring the correct title for apprenticeship.

He was no longer a noble. He was a nobody, a dreaded and exhilarating realization rife with the opportunity to carve his own path, or succumb to its trials.

Whatever Aidan dreamed off slithered past the edges of his consciousness as he came about with a start. The agile guard seized his dagger-wielding hand by the wrist, calm and stern, not at all bothered by his instinct to defend himself.

“Good instinct," he said after he patted Aidan on the shoulder hard enough to make him wince. “Don't ever feel ashamed for defending yourself. Not out here."

Aidan nodded, the adrenaline flooding him more than enough to rouse him to full awareness. Further spurred by the pounding of his deceitful heart, he watched for any slowdown in the guard's steps, or in his stance, watching for signs of suspicion.

Nothing stood out. And why should it? He garnered some faith the man, if his behavior was any indication of that.

“Can you umm…keep watch over the camp while I gather more wood?" Aidan pointed at the fading fire that would only last for another hour or two.

“What's a few minutes more, right?" Hardron lied down with his sword down next to him, treating it like a lover and hugging it as one, if only to have an easy way in smashing the scabbard against the face of any who dared rob him of his armor. Not that it would come to that, but desperation was known to addle the mind of many.

“Ill grab my…" Aidan reached for his knapsack, the veins of his temples close to bursting. “To fit enough to last through the night."

Not that Hardron cared. Already half-asleep, he flicked his hand as if to dismiss his pestering whispers, completely unconcerned with Aidan's imminent eloping. Once the fire's amber light faded into the full moon's silvery caress, Aidan increased his pace into a stride. It was stupid of him to grin while willingly endangering himself further by separating from four able men, but freedom never felt more earned or satisfying. He owed those men nothing; if anything, they should have treated their tracker better, not starve him over the course of three days and then feed him little more than snide remarks.

To make sure the trapper failed to follow his predictable route, Aidan took trickier routes through the woods, sticking to treacherous slants and steeper hills where he could step on protruding roots or stones to mask his footsteps. He only slowed down once he traversed a gully and emerged on the other side, sweat-drenched and panting like a hunted boar. Good thing he carried two waterskins. Finding a stream to replenish his depleted water reserves was as easy as it was treacherous. The water might reflect the guiding starlight, but one wrong step on slick mud could open his head against a rock in this scant light.

With enough distance to give him a hearty—if not impossible to cover lead on his party, Aidan began humming his favorite childhood songs to keep possible predators at bay. While wolves tended to move away from the hunting grounds of a hillarg, star-speckled panthers could climb the nearest tree in a heartbeat, hissing their spite at the monstrous bird from outside the reach of its uselessly flapping wings. Stride turned to a stroll, which faltered into a languid shuffle after a few hours of continuous walk. Though light broke on the edge of the sky, Aidan's eyelids began losing their battle with drowsiness, guiding him to the base of every tall bolder, behind every patch of bushes, at the roots of every tall, mature tree.

“Lie down and wake up with an arrow in the arm. Then the other, and finally the gut. He'll just leave you there, bleeding and dying, at the mercy of the beasts. Perhaps the very one I'm tracking," he wrestled himself free from temptation's clutch by envisioning the most likely scenario that might come to pass, should his party catch up to him. It worked quite well, more so when hunger took over. The constant gnawing within the pit of his stomach wouldn't let him sleep regardless, maintaining his sluggish steps aimed at the direction their employer outlined as part of the search area.

The sight of the first carnelian-colored feather erased every trace of fatigue from his body. Under the bed of dried leaves, a better proof lied in wait. Tracks, bigger than his joint feet, the talon marks just slightly shorter than the length of his hand. Heart pounding, Aidan collected the proof he needed to embolden his party, but instead of heading back, he pressed forward, ignoring the rest of the azure-edged feathers. There was not a soul in any town that would give him anything for those tarnished feathers but for a scowl or a spit.

The other set of tracks interested him more. Wolf ones, a single set, too big to belong to a regular wolf. A single explanation rushed to the forefront of his mind; a warning that he listened to with half an ear.

“A werewolf," Aidan mouthed, feeling his arms and spine chill at the mentioning of it. This was bad; far worse than just some lost, gallivanting flightless bird. Or maybe a net positive, depending on how old or inexperienced the victim of such foul a curse was. According to the consistency of the footprints, they described her route over the past two days. The smaller girth of the central paw pad indicated a female who most likely lacked combat experience of any sort. She'd still possess enhanced strength and aggression, but a coordinated strike should see Aidan's pouch filled to an adequate amount and his reputation rise proportionally.

Unlikely as it was to be ambushed in the middle of a clearing, Aidan slipped two daggers into their designated scabbards strapped to his waist. From this point on, he walked with his hand on the handle of his short sword, slickening it with the sweat of trepidation. His training had prepared him for the most prevalent types of combat found within his province, but what did mounted combat amount to when fighting a feral beast said to pass on her bloodline's curse through a mere scratch? Would his castle-forged sword even draw blood, or was a silvered edge necessary? Where did superstition begin and ended?

The tracks began to fade the further he traveled into the direction of the hillarg's hunting grounds, replaced by an abundance of dusty feathers decaying amidst the bed of autumnal leaves. White searing light replaced the soft, warm glow of morning, blinding Aidan's half-closed eyes. With the initial rush of adrenaline waning, his once careful steps slowed down into a maladroit shuffle. Even closing his eyes for just a second led his brow against a branch or a tree's trunk. In this sorry a state, he wouldn't even win a duel against a human, let alone drive his blade through a werewolf's guts.

Without adequate elevation in sight, Aidan tossed his knapsack between two boulders of similar height with his. They blocked the nagging breeze well enough while also blotting out most of the sunlight thanks to their positioning.

“Just an hour or two…" Aidan mouthed as he dropped head-first against his makeshift pillow, not even bothering to adjust its belly. Comfort didn't matter, for as soon as his eyes shut, his mind followed.

The fiery hues of late evening greeted Aidan when he next came about, his stomach as empty as his energy levels.

“Ugh…" he groaned while fishing for his almost empty waterskin, sloshing the water through his mouth to trick himself into believing he had more than what remained on its bottom. Despite their unpleasant character, his party provided him with extra protection and a bite or two to eat whenever they paused to rest. How did people even survive in a dense forest of leaf-shedding trees at the start of autumn? Every lesson tied to survival depending on a given setting had flown right past his ears, nodding and grunting his way through those tedious—and frankly unnecessary—practices.

Yet here he was, hungry, destitute and clueless on how to preserve his dignity. The more he lagged behind, the higher the chances his party would catch up, and then—

“Finally awake, are you?"

Aidan's heart jumped into his throat at the sound of that rough, growly yet conspicuously feminine voice. The screech of metal rushing out of its sheath was his response, swinging his sword overhead to where the source of the voice came from.

The eerie shadow draped over him moved, inviting the faltering sun's light to sear his groggy eyes.

“Grrrahaha, swinging that sword just like a lesser noble, all instinct, no intuition. That explains your unintuitive choice of a sleeping spot."

The werewolf, previously perched on top of the boulders, cared little for her safety and even less for manners, naked down to her canine paws. Aidan held out the sword in front of him to keep her at bay, a dagger clutched in his left for swift, sudden strikes in case she got in close. Those damn, useless tears. The greenish veil distorting his sight and muffling her distinct coloring would have gotten him killed if this werewolf intended it so. Even as he suspected her intentions, Aidan still refused to wipe the sight-distorting water blurring his sight, for the werewolf could lunge straight for his throat.

That would make for the second most shameful death in the family.

“Mrrr, I'd prefer your other sword," the graceful creature tapped his sword's tip with a claw, her focused, magenta irises as unnerving as they were alluring. “The blunt and harmless one. I guarantee you'll last longer than if you provoke me…"

“You certain? Because the last and only woman I've been with enjoyed my coin more than my sword." Anxiety often made Aidan say the stupidest of things in the heat of the moment. With his heart threatening to burst out of his chest and his temples throbbing close to the point of bursting, logic had no more room in his head.

“Not much of a concern of mine. Don't get much company these days," the werewolf licked her muzzle salaciously, eying his groin. “Distractions of any sort could prove as stimulating to me as they are pleasurable for you."

“How does it work? Stick in a human cock, pull out a dog one? Sorry, but I'd rather keep the tool I know."

She had every right to find his comment offensive, yet she retained her charming advance, strolling towards him with no regard to the several inches of steel separating the two.

“Do they no longer teach anything on werewolves? On how rare it is for the transformation to succeed? On how even fewer retain their wits? Fortunately for you, I run low on hope lately."

The two kept circling one another, his heavy, clumsy steps contrasting with her calm, calculated ones. She must have found him easy on the eye, with his never broken nose, disheveled blond hair reaching an inch shy of his eyebrows and mellow, green gaze. Many had said he lacked a threatening aura, and this werewolf was no exception, treating their encounter as a perverted game of sorts.

“It always goes better if it's consensual; for the mind to accept the transformation instead of rejecting it. Bums like you make for the best candidates, so I'm half-tempted to give it another try." She flicked a mauve lock of hair from her eye, its lush appearance made all the more fascinating by her hair's length, long enough to hug her bare breasts with their pink, protruding nipples. Aidan gulped emptily at that, and not due to anxiety. One might have expected werewolf fur to be thicker and offer more protection, but her grey, silky coat boasted no such capabilities. It showed everything, including her pink, canine-shaped vulva tucked within a nest of soft, downy fur.

“Let's make a contest out of it. Whoever remains standing gets to decide what to do with the other," Aidan maintained her at sword's distance, still wishing to assess the situation before making a decision. No two werewolves were alike, and he had to admit that her approach could be considered disarming, depending on who you asked.

“Might as well lay down your sword and follow me to my lair. Otherwise, who knows what accidental scratches in vulnerable places you might end up with?" she said, wagging her impressively long tail in challenge.

Those silvery stripes hugging her arms, legs torso and breasts gave Aidan pause. He had read of what those bright markings symbolized, something about varying degrees of magical potency based on the weave of the pattern. Was it truly wise to challenge her, given her puzzling intentions?

Aidan did not wait to find out, lunging forth to drive his sword through her belly.

Missed.

With his training instincts kicking in, he repurposed the momentum to slash at her legs and lash out with the dagger for a forearm that she moved too slow out of the way, earning a diagonal cut that bloodied one of those curious stripes of hers.

“Mrrh, naughty, disregarding dueling laws like that." She proceeded to evade his next flurry of attacks as if predicting every one of them. “But oh so thrilling to finally earn a prisoner instead of being given one."

Compared to her fluid movements like oil over water, Aidan practically stumbled from one strike to the next. Everything he had learned rushed back into him, the thrill of survival flooding every vein and muscle fiber in his body.

Breathe. Keep breathing. You don't breathe, you don't focus, you die. Aidan tried his best to respect his mentor's teachings, but the werewolf practically danced around him, no snarl, no growl, not even a frown.

“Not bad," she said, twisting to the side of his thrust and practically walking inside his guard to trip him with a swift kick to his foot. “But far from great. It seems I'm the first werewolf you meet, while for me, you're lousy swordsman number forty-something."

Aidan pushed himself up, darting for her infuriatingly smug form. “Will…you...shut that muzzle already?"

As before, the graceful female flowed through his attacks, bending, twisting crouching or simply stepping back and forth or side to side with extreme ease, surprisingly light on her paws. The one time he managed to score a cut across her shin was because she let him.

Just like she allowed him before, given her otherworldly agility.

“There. That should be enough to feed your pride a crumb or two," she said while flaunting a sly, confident smirk. “Concede, so that I can give you a much-needed bath."

The next time Aidan struck, the werewolf caught and squeezed his wrist so tight his sword dropped from pain. She did the same with his other, dagger-wielding hand, snarling her next words into his face.

“Enough fighting, pup."

Aidan froze. Not because she said so, but because the wet warmth slithering down his thighs shocked him to his core.

She didn't laugh. If anything, her fierceness softened somewhat, if but for a split moment before she caught the neck of his tunic and dragged him after her.

“Great. Now I have to scrounge for a fresh pair of pants as well…."

“Wait…can you…let go of me you dastardly…"

Instead of just stumbling after her like an idiot, Aidan reached for his second dagger, aiming it at her hand.

The werewolf's hand retreated in an instant, letting the momentum of his strike carry him forward with an ungainly lurch.

“Ghh!" the ground rushed to meet Aidan's toppling form, filling his mouth with musty leaves.

“That's enough playing," the wolfess stepped on his dagger-seeking hand, squeezing it beneath surprisingly warm and pleasant pads. “Promise that you'll keep the peace, otherwise…"

Aidan's heart lurched all the way into his throat upon feeling her claws tighten around the back of his hand, ready to pierce his soft skin.

“I'll stop. I…" he spat the leaves plastered upon his lips, groaning in humiliation. “I…concede…"

“Finally…" she let out a relieved sigh, collecting his fallen daggers to stuff them inside his knapsack that she swung over her shoulders. Though slender, her body carried it with far more ease.

“This stinks more than you do," she growled, aiming her gaze on his discarded sword. Aidan's arms tensed with the urge to push himself up and dash for it, but a human on his two feet would have easily beaten him to it, let alone a werewolf.

“Consider this your incentive to behave. Act accordingly, and you'll get all of your toys back."

She held the sword with the natural ease of one who had trained with it. Among nobles, women could learn the basics to defend themselves, but no more. Was she of elevated birth?

Not that it mattered. A beast had replaced the former woman, her humanity a dim speckle, if that.

“I don't suppose you have a name I can call you by," Aidan recovered his footing, dusting himself off.

“Noa," she muttered while passing by him, signaling with the sword to follow.

“Aidan. Of house—"

“Whatever," Noa interjected with a chuckle. “Don't care for the names of those who discard unpromising children as if used clothing."

They didn't discard him! Or well….when she put it that way…

“What about you? Won't the same happen after you're done with me?" he rushed after her, no longer bothered by the risk of imminent harm. Her demeanor hinted at more sinister intentions, the obvious ones clearly related to his gender. Should he attempt to fend her off? Or submit, play his role, and end this charade as soon as her interest in him waned?

The incertitude of that troubled Aidan more than the idea of willingly accompanying a werewolf into her supposed home. Unlike the hillarg him and his party had been chasing for the past days, she was at least relatable. She talked, she japed, she even complimented him, both verbally and indirectly through her lingering gaze. Though his mind reeled from the reprehensible impulses stirred by her earlier teasing, his malehood found her lithe body shamefully attractive. More than once had she caught him ogling her rump, awkwardly drawn to the exotic shape of her plump spade.

He reasoned that it was curiosity; that his eyes must've been mistaken. Everything happened in a blur after all. Surely she couldn't look like a dog down there…could she?

Noa turned when he least expected her to, facing her spade-shaped vulva to his quickly averting gaze.

“No no no," she drawled, guiding his head back into its previous position with the edge of his sword. “Look at it. Study it for as long as it takes for you to come to terms with who I am. Otherwise, you're…free to go wherever you please in those piss-stained pants of yours."

Spit stuck in Aidan's throat. Not her request, no, but that ominous pause. A test. It had to be a test of mettle, of gauging whether he could come to terms with a werewolf's peculiar anatomy.

What sane, reasonable man would dare insult an already volatile creature?

“I'm…I'm no longer puzzled by the shape of your…I mean I'm fine with it. More than fine. It looks…appealing," he meekly nodded after several seconds of nervous blabber.

“Good. It's one thing to stare, and another to judge. Hope we got this matter sorted." Noa took his heed, continuing her walk with a spring in her steps and broader, more excited swings of her bushy tail. In that moment, captivity sounded preferable to Noa spotting the rosy tint in his cheeks or smelling the salty tang of sweat gathering on his brow. Not even their earlier duel had left him in such disheveled state, heart pounding, cock throbbing in vile, unwanted pleasure.

What was happening to him? It had to be her magic. A spell of some sort. What sort of depraved man could possibly grow hard in a time like this?

One who had given up hope.

That realization calmed and disturbed Aidan in equal measure. Hitting rock bottom often did that to people, opening them to all sort of scandalous practices. With nothing to lose, he might as well treat this as the novel experience it was, for who else was left to criticize him? Certainly not his family…

I'll do what I must, he came to terms with the hand fate had dealt him. Worse than the probability of laying with a werewolf was the thought of being a coward. Of turning his back to a challenge when things got tough. She'd have him either way, with or without his consent, so why not play along and become infamous in his own right?

Light all but faded by the time Noa stopped at the foot of a cliff. Aidan spotted no ledge or lip to shield them from rain, should the clouds gather later into the night.

“Walk," the wolfess slapped his rump with the width of his sword, forcing him to skip forward and right into the…

Aidan fell on cold, dry stone. Not because he staggered face-first into a wall, but because he passed right through it. Noa snickered from behind, igniting the torches mounted on the walls with a simple gesture of her hand.

“Clumsy one, aren't you?" she taunted him while taking the lead, the rhythmical rapping of her claws strangely calming.

“Wait," Aidan turned to face the seemingly solid wall now locking them inside her den. “What happens if I…"

“Seems you got your answer," Noa said to his palm, flat against the surreally cool and realistic stone wall that now blocked the exit.

Double the reason he should just heed her cues, lest she abandoned him in here to die a slow, most horrid and stinky death. Pissing his pants was one thing, but wilting away over the course of…

Aidan rushed after her, not even daring to dwell on the alternative.

After a little squatting through the narrower portions of the twisting corridor, the two came to a grand chamber surrounded by smoother walls covered with a combination of curtains and tapestries to make it look less bleak.

“Pants off," Noa stopped him before he set foot onto one of the many furs forming a mosaic of makeshift carpets. “First you wash, then we talk. And later…we shall see where conversation takes us."

Asking her to turn around for a little privacy seemed an exercise in futility, so Aidan began unclothing under her austere gaze, starting with his top.

“I assume it's not too much trouble to wash my clothes as well?" he said while lowering his pants, remaining in naught but his underpants.

“I won't keep you here for more than a few hours without anything to give in return."

“I'll pay, one way or the other. Looks like this place can use some tidying at the very least." His hands remained on his hips to exude confidence and to buy some time for his member to lose its hardness. Though Aidan tried to tense his leg muscles, breathe in deep and go through all the numerous ways necessary to diminish his excitement, they all failed to bear fruit.

“Come," Noa offered the most anticlimactic response to his wordplay, likely to motivate him to shed his last piece of clothing. As he did, his semi erect cock bounced free of its cloth cage, hardening to full mast with every awkward step he took.

Don't look at her rump. Her long, flowing hair. Such a pleasant color, and a truly unique combination with the rest of her bipedal canine anatomy.

Her rump, however…

Aidan's shaft lurched upward, tempted by the bare bottom of the second naked female he undressed in the presence of, its familiar curves all too inviting. He considered grabbing himself, but if Noa glanced back, she might mistake it for masturbation, a far more offensive gesture compared to simply being erect.

Perhaps it was the torches, but the ambient temperature inside her lair was akin to a warm summer evening. Noa led him past the central chamber and into another corridor, this time leading to a darker room where the ground slanted into an underground pool.

“In you go," the werewolf gracefully rolled on her toes to come face to erect member with. “And don't masturbate. I won't have you cum where I wash."

“I won't!" Aidan's voice came out with an uncharacteristically high pitch, hands itching to slap over his malehood and cover his shame. “I'm just…you know…novelty?"

“Mrh," she blinked in reply, absorbing the features of his shaft as she passed by him. “More boy than man…"

Whatever. To each their own. To her credit, Aidan had little to boast about. Average everything but for the bulged state of his foreskin. It barely contained his overly taut glans, its ruddy tip already poking its ugly head through the enlarged opening.

He itched to stroke himself. To finish off to the depraved thoughts rushing through his head. It had been so long since he felt a semblance of peace, of pleasure, but it looked like Noa had ulterior motives in her mind.

The sort where he had to pay with the only currency he had left.

With no one around but the torchlight to keep him company, Aidan stepped into the clear water, wincing in anticipation.

“Oh…ohhhh!" He enthusiastically waded waist-deep into the pool, spurred forth by its lukewarm embrace. This was warm! Warmer than anything he ever had since his time on the road, when his coin pouch bulged and his family's name still carried weight.

“This is nice. This is so, so nice," he could barely contain his delight while submerging up to the neck. The floor was slippery, but with the water barely passing his chest while upright on his spot, he had better option than risk braving further into the darker reaches. His hand instinctively went to his cock, wishing to start off with that, only to grit his teeth at how awfully pleasure it felt to tug back his foreskin even a little.

Bloody inferno…he wouldn't even last a second inside her…

Alarmed by the lewdness of that thought, Aidan began at the head, scrubbing the dirt caking his locks vigorously while dipping his head into the water every few breaths for a proper rinse. His torso was next, insisting on the spots under his arms before washing off the rest of the grime sticking to the scant hair of his chest. That gave his cock enough time to lose its hardness. Rolling back his foreskin while flaccid went much easier, but even the faintest touch to the neck of his glans immediately hardened him back, making the clean-up part of his member a race against time before the temptation to ejaculate grew out of control.

Tap, tap, tap.

Droplets of water sprang all around Aidan's startled form, his hands immediately abandoning his crotch in anticipation of her visit.

“I'm not a savage, you know," Noa unrolled the bundled towel she brought, holding it out for him expectantly.

“I'm not done," he directed his attention to his legs, scrubbing as fast as humanly possible.

“Didn't expect you to. Heard men spend most of the time washing their crotch."

He already—

Then he saw it. That hard, persistent glare demanding that he did another pass to make sure her standards were met.

Aidan tried his best not to touch his cock, keeping to the areas around it to ensure that his nether hairs had no trace of smell or grime left.

“Now you're done," a soft smile crept from the corners of Noa's mouth.

“What about you?" Aidan asked as he snatched the surprisingly fresh towel from her hands, drying himself off before wrapping himself in it. “Shouldn't you at least wash the blood off?"

“Move," she nudged him in the back, reminding him that he was a prisoner, not a guest. She said nothing else during their short walk through the corridor leading back to her room, preferring to let the tight grip of her hand speak on her behalf.

“There," Noa dragged him to a comfortable corner padded with splayed furs and even a pillow embedded with her surprisingly tolerable canine scent. “This will be your spot. Let as much as a hand roam outside of it and…well…suppose it's more exciting if you discover what happens on your own."

“Ahhh…" Aidan lounged back against the pillow, his naked form warmed by the musty yet pleasantly gentle air of this chamber. “The only thing that'll move is my cock during sleep. Don't take it personal. It's not something I can control."

“Settling in already," Noa went to her bed that amounted to a set of furs elegantly set on top of one another to snatch a surreally comfortable looking quilt that she dropped on top of him. “Don't get too cozy. Your cock can only get you so far."

She held out her hand suggestively, waiting for Aidan to disrobe of the sole piece of makeshift clothing he appropriated. Once the towel passed back to her, she stretched it over a clothes rope hung in front of an alcove that she repurposed into a hearth.

Aidan spotted no cooking implements, a realization which turned the stomach. To keep his distaste with her supposedly savage habits from showing, he took a closer look at what amounted to her home, finding it surprisingly well equipped for a so-called lair. She had rugs, chairs, a table, a nightstand on her side of the rise upon which she built her bed. The signs of civilization were all around Aidan, illuminated by an oil lantern positioned on the side of a stand next to a musty tome, or encased in one of the several chests spread around the room as a means of décor. Though it wasn't what Aidan could call modern, it had its flair, more so when traders or merchants must have hauled all this loot over to her.

“Here," her rough voice startled Aidan back to awareness. “And before you ask, it's meat cured by your kind."

Served on a cast iron plate, no less.

“Is it human?"

Aidan's smirk got a tired snarl in response, as if Noa had heard this uninspired joke for whoever knew how many times.

“Sorry, I'm…I'm grateful. For this and for taking me in, I suppose," Aidan gestured with his plate, much to Noa's satisfaction. Despite her canine muzzle, he was certain he spotted at least a faint trace of a smile.

“All thanks to your bumbling charm. Were you not so harmless from a first glance, all that you'd have seen last were my fangs instead of…."

Noa turned from him to head over to his knapsack, maintaining her tantalizing steps while flicking her tail provocatively. She made sure to swing it all the way to the side to tempt him with clear view of her supple, feminine butt. Not even a speck of her pink vulva, and Aidan's legs already had to shift one over the other to smother the alarmingly quick hardening of his shaft.

“I'd advise against…"

“Ghhrr!" Noa recoiled after removing the first and best jacket that muffled the unpleasant scents of the far dingier clothes he had stuffed in there. “This belongs in one place only."

“Wait, don't—" Aidan tried to keep her from tossing everything he owned into the pool of water he washed in earlier, but his glaring state of undress kept him from stretching more than his blanket allowed.

Decency…the prime concern of any noble, even in a situation such as this. The thought of his escape only graced his mind at the pattering sound of her claws, and only because he instinctively straightened his back to adopt proper posture.

“Appearances are all you have left, mrrh?" Noa remarked with a sly smirk. For a long, canine muzzle, she sure proved to be expressive at times.

“Depends on how unreachable the rest of my belongings are."

“Not that you'd miss that pile of junk. Though I did scavenge a curious little thing." Her furtive left hand flaunted his flute. “Woo many a women with it?"

“I'd settle for one, if she would have it."

Noa found his perplexing offer as strange as he did. Desperation to stay alive often shrouded the vile implications of a word, a gesture, or in this case, an invitation into a nefarious scheme. Noa had already marked the extent of her loneliness on several instances. Entertaining her ploy might just tangle the already uncomfortable snare even further.

“She's all ears, in fact."

“Any preferences?" Aidan reached out for his lifeline confidently, already running a list of options through his mind. “I'm a more accomplished flutist than I am a sword fighter, as you already know."

Not entirely accurate, given the stark difference between mere man and magic-enhanced beast. Still, his survival depended on playing the vulnerable youngster part. To be harmless, just like she expected of him.

Noa responded by bringing a chair in front of him, lounging back with her paws stretched out in front, toes clawing at the edges of his blanket enthusiastically.

“Pick a…haunting tune, filled with insatiable longing."

“Bleak but doable," Aidan tried to find the most comfortable position to settle in, all to buy himself a little more time while browsing for the most appropriate selection. “Got one already, thanks to the savagery of your wool-hungry claws."

For the first time since their encounter, Noa yipped in genuine amusement as her paws immediately fled under the chair. A flustered werewolf. What a unique sighting.

“Perhaps a few added verses might help clarify the metaphor I'm distinctly unaware of."

“Easy." Aidan swallowed back the slim leftovers of his nerves, suddenly calm and comfortable in the werewolf's presence. This sort of feeling flooded him whenever he performed for the rare person appreciative of his talent. It was who he was; not what he was born as, or what his parents wished him to be.

A deluded romantic.

“Go on," Noa swiped her paw at him, toes spread, claws tense.

Aidan considered catching it and sneaking a finger between her pads in tickling retribution, but reconsidered at the last moment. They weren't friends. They weren't even acquaintances. Intrigue aside, he'd only last for as long as he appealed to the remaining vestiges of her humanity.

It all started with a deep, calming breath. Then, he visualized the mental image conjured by the song flowing through his head, hauntingly beautiful. The story behind it was that of a guilt-wracked husband who was forced to abandon his wife to the incoming assault of a band of outlaws. She left for the market at the same time, during a tranquil day when the bells and growing screams forced him to choose the safety of their daughter above all else.

The melody softened and grew hopeful as they reconnected with fleeing friends, only for it to delve into somber notes during a werewolf attack. When the father next came about, his senses sharp and his body morphed, he had but one goal in his mind, to chase after his daughter. It took days, weeks of agonizing grief and loneliness of holding onto the edge of madness, but his efforts paid off. She was fine, adopted by a family of millers, mourning for his passing every Saturday, the day they got separated.

All he had to do was walk into the clearing, but he couldn't, for he was no longer a father, no longer a man, but a cursed beast.

Aidan ended the song with his baritone's voice, his heart heavy with the father's sacrifice. Noa, on the other hand, retained her characteristic gaze, that of a focused predator, unmoved and unbending.

“What an insufferable fool," she attempted to knock the flute out of his hands, only to flinch when Aidan dropped it to grab hold of her paw.

“Is he?" He gave her pads a firm squeeze, enjoying the way her nose tensed under the heavy breath she took. “It takes immense strength to come to terms with who you are; to accept the reality of your situation. What good would it do if the villagers sent hunters after him? Or if his daughter rejected him? I think the story ended on a net positive."

Instead of clawing her way out of his grip, Noa's toes slackened. With a little push, she urged him to sate his curiosity, somehow aware that he had been eying her pink, plump pads for a while.

“Looks like it's not your first time around a wolf's anatomy."

Aidan chuckled at the sincerity of her praise. “We're from a mountain town. Every reputable family has at least a wolf tamer and breeder, so that each of us gets their wolf guardian. I miss Asha more than I miss my family, come to think of it. She understood me better than they've ever succeeded, and she had this strange penchant for having her paws fondled. Forgot whether she started it, or if it was my fault, but I didn't mind it one bit."

Noa's paw was satisfyingly large, her toes big enough to single out and squeeze individually. As with Asha, Aidan kept away from the tufts of fur lining the crevices of her delightfully smooth pads, aware of how a mere touch might cause her ticklish paw to jerk back in discomfort. They did not share words throughout his unintended massage, leaving it at awkward glances and subdued huffs of enjoyment from her side. Aidan's joint hands moved with purpose, letting his thumbs work her central pad through a sensual mix of squeezes and motions before branching out to her fanning toes to do the same.

Without asking for permission, he reached for her other, colder paw to welcome into the warm embrace of his fingers, easing its skittishness with a few well-placed strokes and gropes. Noa had no choice but to lean back and expel her pent-up sigh, finally submitting to the ripples of relaxation coursing through her increasingly relaxed muscles.

What an end to a day, giving paw massage to a werewolf… Aidan reasoned that his survival relied on it; that he had to appease to Noa's interest, as she put it. But he didn't do this for her sake. He enjoyed the feeling of puffy, malleable softness just as much, finding the rhythm, the motions, and her reactions to his ministrations calming beyond what words could describe.

“That's enough," Noa withdrew both of her paws, setting further back into her chair to mask the rope of slick arousal darkening the cracked brown wood of the chair. “I'm not your Asha to pant and submit to your hands."

“I wish you would," Aidan leaned against the pillow protecting his back from the mighty uncomfortable stone wall. “Could make things far easier for me."

“How about we make it not so easy?"

Noa kicked the chair back and pounced on him like the predator she was, making Aidan squeak in shocked terror. His fear was misplaced, of course, but Noa on her fours appeared four times more menacing. One tantalizing inch at a time, she conquered more and more of his personal space, forcing him to shrink against the wall like a veritable prisoner cowering before his captor.

“Hrrrh…" she snarled a few inches from his ashen, wide-eyed expression, a primeval sound that rattled him down to the core. This wasn't cold, bitter dread seeping into his bones, but the onrush of intoxicating adrenaline you felt when pitted against a perversely enjoyable situation. Aidan knew what would follow. He felt his supposition harden within his member. Smelled it in the sweet tang creeping from between Noa's legs. Saw it in her empty stare seeking to be filled, if only for one moment.

“I measured you as the squirming, agitated type, struggling against desires you battle to accept." Noa's hands began pulling back his blanket, revealing his upward, rock-hard erection that she gripped in the cup of her padded palm. Aidan drew in a sharp breath, even that slightest of pressure enough to cause his shaft to convulse with pent-up eagerness to unload its burden.

“I'm aware of what I am. Of what you see me as. Yet even that is not enough to hold back your desire to mate…"

She wasn't cruel nor self-sabotaging enough to stroke his member, leaving it bob and throb as Aidan tried further tried to crawl away from her reach.

“Grr!" Noa stopped him as soon as his hands left the boundaries of the bed she splayed out for him. “Careful. You're about to ignore the only rule I set out for you."

Not to leave his narrow prison, yeah. But what was he to say or do to the wolfess whose fingers caressed his knees, tempting his legs to lay down? How could he explain his thoroughly irrational lust with a furred body he ought to despise?

“Loneliness doesn't care for shape or form…" Noa's words flowed as soft as her caress over his bare shoulders. Slender, feminine fingers relished the outline of his lean yet strong arms, traveling all the way down to his elbows. Once there, they embraced his pecs as she drew closer, shifting on her knees. To Aidan, that looked awfully uncomfortable, given the anatomy of her legs, but her warm breaths sailing over his face left no room for argument.

“It dwells in all of us, starving us day by day, until we're ravaged by a hunger so deep, we'd have just about anything, so long as it fills the gnawing void."

He didn't realize how pleasant her touch felt until it was gone, all so that she could bring her paws under her into a squatting position. A soft, sudden wince left Aidan's tight lips as he felt a warm, gooey trickle land on his thigh, the odd sensation drawing his attention to the translucent web of arousal uniting that fallen droplet to her ripe, swollen spade.

“I'm…I'm really…I'm not in the right state to…" he blabbered in the absence of his wit. Aidan could barely breathe amidst the wild thudding of his heart, let alone think of a way to get his point across to Noa. Never in his life had he felt more helpless, so keenly aware that no matter what he did, he'd end up disappointing Noa with fatal consequences. But through that sinking feeling of powerlessness, an ember pulsed to life, growing brighter and bolder with every hungry throb of his member.

Let it all play out, the indolence amassed over the weeks that had led to this moment whispered to him. What more can you lose? What does it matter that she's a werewolf, given everything you had lost? Seize upon this moment, and feel no shame from extracting the sliver of joy that is owed to you.

“Then…" Noa pushed herself up, bringing her vulva, slickened with arousal, at eye level with his unblinking stare, “we're done for the night."

Aidan caught her hand, desperate not for his life, but for missing out on what could very well be a one-time offer.

“Maybe I can…with my fingers or my mouth…"

The wolfess lowered herself to his level, wearing an earnest, almost sympathetic smile. “Say you want this. That's all I need from you."

Aidan's hands retreated awkwardly to his sides, uncertain of what to hold or grab without offending her in some form. “I want this," he muttered on a hushed tone, his mouth too dry to manage anything more eloquent.

Noa's demeanor changed in an instant, the starkness of her predatory glare giving way to the allure of a softer gaze filled with barely restrained longing. She confidently leaned forward against Aidan's chest, her curvaceous breasts squeezing his back tighter against the mass of pillows propped against the cave's wall.

“You say that, but I'm not entirely convinced," she added a soft giggle at the end to keep his anxiety from spiking as she settled her buttocks in his lap, her furred cheeks rested against his shaft. It felt quite awkward for his tip to lose itself amidst the sea of silky fur that her mauve tail was, but also breathless in its novelty. Noa's pink, taut nipples felt so invigorating, pressed and rubbing against his chest in unison with the mellow rocking of her body. Her crisp scent, of hyacinth mixed with the fragrancy of pine needles rubbed over her fur, mingled with the sweeter, sharper haze that her aroused sex oozed. A few breaths was all it took for Aidan to grow addicted to it; for his skin to crawl with the prickles of anticipation at what was to come.

“Touch whatever you please," Noa forced one of his hands against a mound that comfortably fit his palm. “I'm not a statue nor a visage, you know."

Oh, he knew. From the moment her fingers encased his balls ever so gently, Aidan drew in a sharp, enlightening breath, letting it out amidst curt, restrained moans.

“And don't be dead silent when you finish," her touch sailed over to the base of his shaft to grab and steady it as she pushed herself up enough to align her vulva with his foreskin-engulfed glans. “I can't properly finish without hearing you moan as you burst into me."

Everything moved too fast for Aidan. Though he intended to fondle her breasts and rub her erect nipples as slowly as he did her paws, the pleasure-deprived youth grabbed onto them as if bracing for a rogue wave the moment Noa's warm wetness kissed his tip. Her spade pressed tighter against him, forcing his foreskin back not even half of an inch. And yet, for Aidan, that felt as if he already entered her, the throbs of his cock wild and desperate to shoot his load.

“A—ah…" He gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut to keep himself from unraveling.

Not that it helped, for the swaying of Noa's hips and the increasing weight of her body bearing down on his shaft achieved desired result. In an instant, in just a single stroke, Aidan's glans was laid bare to the tight, clenching softness of her femininity. With his foreskin peeled all the way back by her constricting tunnel, Aidan's cock hardened to its limits, the flood of overwhelming stimulation slamming against his unprepared mind in a cascade of irresistible sensations.

“Ahaaaahhh!" His arms wrapped around her middle in an instinctive hug, face shoved between her breasts while he moaned his silent cries. Without warning, despite his best attempts to hold back, Aidan's seed exploded out of him almost instantly, filling Noa's shuddering sex with all the passion amassed over too many months since his last woman.

“Ghh…Ghhhmmm…" followed the last of his feeble whimpers amidst the mind-shattering intensity of his spurts. It was as if he just ejaculated his soul into Noa, the jets so strong and so rich they dizzied him. Noa added to the might of his orgasm through the gentle rocking of her hips, helping him feel the full extent of her snug, fleshy insides, letting him revel in the intoxicating fulfillment of being drained dry by hard, persistent squeezes.

Towards the end of his high, Aidan's knees slammed in around Noa's powerful hips, squeezing them as tight as her rippling pulses milked his member of everything it held. Everything he had, he surrendered to her amidst breathless throbs that sank him into a deep, timeless trance from which he never wished to emerge.

“Ahhh…" it all came to an end with a hoarse groan and a few finals, delayed pulses barren of seed. Noa remained perched in his lap, silent and enigmatic. Were it not for the fading shudders of her own climax, Aidan had no way of knowing she enjoyed it.

Or did she?

“Mrrm…" a hand pressed against the back of his head kept him from departing the embrace of her twin, furred mounds. “You'll now when I'm done…"

Not that he minded. A moment to catch his breath and bring himself out of his stupor was all that Aidan needed to set his cloudy thoughts in order; to come to terms with the reality of what happened.

He mated a werewolf. Finished inside her from the very first thrust. Never had he expected to fall prey to her charms so easily, nor for her animalistic sex to feel otherworldly snug and pleasurable around him. What did this strange, post-mating fulfillment make him? Did it even matter? Despite her morphed looks, Noa provided him with the greatest pleasure known to man without asking for anything in return.

Unless…

“Ehh.." Aidan winced, the ring of his glans terribly sensitive in the aftermath of his deeply satisfying orgasm. Most casually, Noa pushed herself up on her feet, paying no attention to the ropes of seed worming down her grey thighs or pattering on the blanket below.

“I'm…I really…."

“I'm glad you did," Noa said on an even, matter of fact tone while headed for the same pool in which he washed, her stiff tail shooting a jolt of anxiety through his entire frame. That quickly dissipated the moment her steps paused and her customary glare settled on him.

“What are you waiting on? An invitation?"

Aidan scurried after her, his legs so relaxed and weakened by their union he all but stumbled his way to her. What was going to happen to him? Would he…turn into a werewolf himself? A million questions stormed through his mind, yet Noa's stiff bearing left room for none of them. Whatever her plans were, they started with a second bath.

***The End***

[b]Dear followers, I am currently behind on some bills that resulted from ridiculous heating/electricity price increases due to the current political situation. [/b]

If you feel generous, sympathetic and inclined to help me (and by extension, my brother :IconSiranor: to escape this mess, please lend us some of your financial might to overcome this unfortunate situation. We've each set up Ko-fi goals+rewards to reward your generosity and kindness.

[b]More info behind this plea can be found here https://www.sofurry.com/view/1976931

Kofi link (where to support) https://ko-fi.com/nulkurrak0114[/b]