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Markath's streets were filled with new merchants and travelers ever since the dangers in its walls had been dealt with: Forsworn and corrupted Politics alike. In the grand scheme of things, even Skyrim itself had been saved from Stormcloaks's threats, and the country was in relative peace.

Dragons? They were a long-gone threat; Most had disappeared or lived in such isolation they no longer threatened the population. The Thalmor was less and less present within the country, as most were dispatched to other provinces like Resdayn or Argonia.

Remained then a sentiment of peace and gaiety that could be felt when walking through those walls. Even though one didn't seem as satisfied.

Large shoulder, scruffy beard, balding head. Everyone with a semblance of knowledge knew who that Nord was as he walked through the walls. He might no longer bear the steel armor or that obnoxious iron helmet. Still, people knew the posture of a fighter and gave him the deference he deserved, especially as he approached the nearest stand by the city's entrance.

Red-Arm's stand wasn't manned by Hogni anymore, his departure brief, but by his niece. A brave Nord girl named Llana who offered the gentlest smile she could to the scruffy Nord in his utilitarian leather clothes: an open vest and tight leather pants, but nothing else.

“Good morning, Dovahkiin. You want the usual?" she asked, cheery, while she scrounged through the cold storage to pull out a crusty skin bag from dried blood.

“Hrmphhh… Double," grumbled the Dovakhiin, his voice closer to a grunt than a proper voice.

“I got you covered!" answered Llana with that same cheerful smile as she produced a second skin bag, only to see a leathery coin pouch where she had put the first bag. She quickly pocketed it, glancing around to check if someone saw it while her customer grabbed the second bag and slung it above his shoulder.

“Thanks, Dovakhiin! Don't hesitate to come back!" chuckled the young Nord as she watched the gruff man turn heels and go through the same way he entered. Why did he only come here for meat? Llana had thought about questioning him when she was younger, inquiring why such a man only appeared some days to get his order before disappearing out in the wilderness.

But every prodding produced nothing, but more gruffs from who she had considered the land's greatest Hero. Ultimately, she had abandoned and merely accepted those short exchanges as a natural state for that man. He might be smelly, he might go around like a vulgar vagabond without shoes on, but he paid in septims like any other and even more. The man threw at her enough gold each time to pay for a whole week of work without thinking twice…

Sometimes, people asked her who it was and what that exchange was. But she shrugged and told them it was one of her regulars.

But she understood them… She wanted to know what this hero was doing so far out back.

---

The Nord groaned as he ascended through the chaos of rocks within the rift. That was a familiar path he had walked through many times. So much so he could walk it with his eyes closed. Most of Skyrim, too. But he wouldn't dare to say so. It would be bragging, and people would get interested in him and his adventures.

Days of glory, days of adventures, days of fighting for whatever riches were gone.

In fact, he had it all: riches, houses, followers, companies, favors. If he so desired, he could enter any Jarl's mansion and live there without them peeping any words. Sure, there had been a fallout in communication, and most didn't dare to speak to him. Some… Some even outright condemned or spurned him since he no longer acted as the de facto protector of the land.

But he had better to do, way better to do.

Like carrying those bags up the hill before he descended and faced a large house built in a valley where nobody would and could find him. It hadn't been a place he had bought but instead built. The wooden walls, the stone foundations, the high ceiling, the slated rooftop: all his.

“I'm back!" he suddenly shouted, his hand against his mouth to amplify his cry. And soon, cries answered. Howls, barks, cries… It all echoed across the mansion and around it. Followed soon a stampede, of stomping on the ground, until his most precious companions appeared. The three half-wolf he had bought from a merchant a few years ago. Those scrawny little things had grown big and strong, almost the size of their mother, and with the attitude that followed.

Yet, they ran to him and jumped at him while he welcomed them with open arms and a wide grin. The first to jump at him was the firstborn called Steel; he had a white coat molted with darker spots across his spine up to a dark tail. With his blue eyes, he was magnificent… And eager to jump on the Dovakhiin, licking that face with familiarity.

The second was… Not the middle one but the youngest, whose coat was as black as charcoal, indicating his name, Coal. His yellow eyes were on the Dovakhiin, eyeing him before jumping on him once Steel had moved.

Finally, the third and the middle one was also the most cautious, even though the Nord still bore that familiar scent. Moonstone, due to the yellow fur mixing with gray tones and his golden eyes, circled around but finally jumped on his owner to lick him.

Who, in return, smiled and laughed, patting each beast.

“Yes, Yes. I couldn't hunt with you. I'm sorry!" he said, trying to give them an excuse as he suddenly grabbed the bags slung over his shoulders to lay them on the ground.

The beasts followed his movements, eyeing him until he undid the first strap. Flesh. Meat. Meal. Right away, Steel pounced on it to feast and fought with Coal while Moonstone remained a bit further, watching the second bag being unstrapped.

There, the half-wolf advanced while their owner watched all three gobble down their meals. Proud, with his hands on his hips, the old Nord smiled as he turned to the house, then back at the beasts.

“Don't worry, I have something else for you," he said with a booming and almost cheery voice. But the three canines were too focused on their meals, with Coal dancing from one bag to another to get what he needed. But two would be enough for all three.

That was what the Dovakhiin thought as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the key to his house from his pocket.

The lock out of the way, the old Nord was welcomed by the usual musty smell sticking to the walls. Without waiting, he opened the large windows to let the cold but clean air in, bringing light to the hall entrance. The scent of burnt wood was still sticking around as he turned and flicked something towards the hearth's direction.

A spark. A mere spell that turned into an inferno once in the hearth, making the fire crepitate before he threw the last cut logs inside.

With that handled, his eyes turned to check his home to see if something was abnormal. The same cut marks, the same displaced treasures bursting from the chests, the unused beds, the half-filled pantry. And the wide-open door to the cellar. The same as usual then for the old Nord, who sighed in relief, outstretched his arms, and then stripped.

Those old rags were starting to break apart… They were necessary, yes, but their presence miffed him as much as his favorite companions. It's not like he needed them as he pulled them away and stretched some more with his hands above his head.

It always felt better when he was naked. He loved it, too, when he could feel the air rush against his dangling bits or his belly. Answering Nature's call felt all so natural after those years of isolation.

It was such a shame he couldn't answer it as much as he desired. His body yearned for release. He could still feel the tangle in his heart. Old friends would have understood what it meant, but the companions had changed over time. Many no longer desired to share the Circle's curse and him… He felt like a used weapon, growing dull. Nobody needed him, even as the Harbinger, and most were content with doing their own things.

“Shit… I shouldn't think about that," the Dovakhiin mumbled as he bent and grunted. His raspy breath grew more potent while gray hair grew all over his body. From fair skin to gray fur, his body started to shift, too. Bones popped in and out of positions, the articulations moved and were displaced while the flesh was remade. His wiry muscles grew more robust and wider, his chest likewise.

He grew taller, too. Soon, he had to lean and end on his knees as the lower articulations changed. Bones split and broke where they usually did while his feet seemed to elongate and his nails sharper.

The transformation was always painful, but the Dovakhiin had grown inured to it. Indeed, he sensed, like any other, the snapping and shifts. But they felt like a distant fire gnawing at his body while his thoughts drifted closer to his inner beast.

“The Omega returns," said the distant and eerie voice, welcoming nonetheless. And as the beast grinned, so did the Dovakhiin.

“It's getting old," he answered with his mind, sensing the spirit fidget and turn at the remark, yet amused.

“Like you. How long will you stay this?"

“As much as I can."

His bones snapped again while his cranium shifted and the jaw adapted. His teeth seemingly disappeared behind the new ones sprouting from his gums until that toothy grin remained. One he addressed towards the beasts waiting at the door's entrance, their ears raised and their hair bristling.

Soon, the Dovakhiin's throat changed, too, and his voice was gone. Muted, silenced… He was back to the form of an elder Werewolf: gray fur, red eyes… And a strength potentially able to rip apart cities with a savagery to follow.

But… it wasn't all that for the big Werewolf as the canines entered, their nostrils up and their body language betraying their curiosity.

As always, Steel was on the forefront with its muzzle sniffing around while eyeing the Dovakhiin if he moved.

He moved. Steel stepped closer, making the canine's head tilt left and right until the right scent was picked up, and he barked.

To answer, the Werewolf grunted, and his ears lowered while his bulky body went on his knees and hands. That was the signal the three canines had been waiting, their paws shuffling closer and closer.

Coal was the boldest, once reassured by Steel. He wasn't the Alpha, so he followed the indication. But once the Hound barked, the youngest slipped behind the kneeling werewolf to sniff those legs, that backside… Those sinewy cheeks.

The red eyes darted above the shoulders… But then returned to the approaching Alpha and his dominant strut. His movement was assured, and… Without a further glance, the Dovakhiin saw the red tip poking from the Canine's sheath. Red, bulbous, covered with veins, with a strong perfume that struck the Werewolf's nostrils. One that made the beast drool and groan.

As much as Coal's long and broad tongue against his backside.

One lick, another… The half-wolf licked right between the crevice, amidst the hair and sweat, onto that swollen and stretchy butthole. The orifice was tender and supple, opening under the caress. One tender hole the black-furred Canine licked and even tried to force his tongue inside; much to the Dovakhiin's pleasure as he, too, felt his need arise in his groins. He was no different than his companions, eager and assaulted by need.

With a low growl, the Werewolf lowered his head further, almost at ground level, with his ears down. He submitted to Steel, entirely. His red eyes were on the large Canine, watching the Beast's blue eyes fixate on him. And then, move closer. Closer until the Werewolf's head was nestled between those wide forelegs and his muzzle pressed right by the bulbous dick. The fully erect stood ready, under the Half-Wolf's bristling fur.

To the Dovakhiin's nose, the cock permeated a scent of sweat, flesh, salt, and urine. One strong and powerful as the yellow jet suddenly spewed out of the red organ to hit the Werewolf's on the head and marking his fur.

A mere pet trying to mark a Werewolf was absurd. One to be licked and abused like now by Coal, even more so. And if people knew it was the Dovakhiin? It would be considered as born from insanity and dementia, gifts from his old age.

People would assume the old Nord had gone crazy and should be interned. But… he wasn't crazy. It had always been like this for him, like this ever since he had experienced his first night with Kodlack and grown to love canines like his mentor. United in their worship of canines, the two men had found an appreciation for one another. It was a secret only they possessed.

One the Dovakhiin would take to the tomb.

But for the moment, the old Nord was all too happy to have his body claimed by his Alpha and to feel the hot piss dribble all over his fur and mouth. The warm liquid was a liquor he swallowed with a loud gulp before the next serving was offered. And another, and another… Until that flow ran dry and remained then that long bulbous dick whose pointy head faced the Werewolf.

He was in heaven, his nose delicately tingling his brain with the luscious sensation of his Alpha's scent. One etched so firmly in his mind he couldn't refuse. Even tired or exhausted, he would give in to the Alpha. To Steel. To that dick, he welcomed within by extending the wide tongue below and advancing his head.

Such action was surprising; it would even be said those dogs had been trained to do this. And it was true. The Dovakhiin had trained them and showed them different ways of affection so he could please all three altogether.

One at the front, one behind him… And one below.

Moonstone. Golden and the most reclusive, he was also the only one who seemed keen on pleasing the werewolf over his own needs. Crawling on the ground beneath the Werewolf, Moonstone had his cold nose pushing against the Werewolf's sheath and huffing it. With it, cold air flowed out and massaged the Werewolf's sensitive organ until, like all other three, his cock pushed through.

Red like them, bulbous like them… Yet, his knot wasn't pushing through the furry sheath, leaving it engorged as the smaller Canine started to lick and lap that cock to clean up that sweat and precum sticking to it.

Even if the Dovakhiin was the Omega, the lowest of the pack, Moonstone offered him that attention. He loved all three equally, all three in his own way.

“You want to let go?" asked the Wolf spirit, deep inside the Dovakhiin.

“Not for too long. But I want their pups today," nodded along the Nord as he felt the Wolf's embrace over him.

His mind… Drifted.

Remained there the Werewolf's most primal and bestial needs, overtaken by a heat in his backside and a thirst in his throat.

The former was satisfied by that broad tongue lapping and licking his private bits. It lapped, coated, and thoroughly spread that sticky liquid before Coal decided to leap on his hind legs to pass his forelegs on each side of the Werewolf's hips.

The latter, it was Steel who handled it by scratching with his clawed paws and enjoining the Werewolf to lean forward, to open his mouth wider. And suck.

To suck that red-tipped cock until all of the throbbing length was into that dangerous maw. Until the Werewolf's coarse tongue surrounded the red organ and massaged it. No, kissed, covered, licked. It wasn't natural, but it was the Werewolf's way to please and delight his Alpha, making him groan and bark from the overwhelming sensations.

The half-breed, despite his natural inclination, didn't step or jump back. His mouth contorted, his lips purled, and his ears dropped from the sensation. But Steel kept his precious cock deeply inserted in the Werewolf's mouth while it humped that head. One push, two push, three, his sweaty belly rubbed all over his owner's head and smeared his scent over it.

By the end of it, all their scents, all three, would mark Werewolf.

Even Moonstone, on his joints and with his mouth extended. His golden eyes, darted and fixated, were on the red cock beneath the Dovakhiin. Licking his lips, the canine moved… And took the organ inside, mimicking the movement above. His mouth wasn't as fit as bipeds or the Werewolf in that task; his teeth nearly nicked the skin. But Moon still tried to imitate.

He opened his mouth as wide as possible, with his broad tongue bearing the cock's weight and pushing it inside his throat. He groaned and moaned, especially as the tip was nudging parts that weren't to be touched.

Then… He backed away. Not entirely, not from below the Werewolf's belly. But his head backed away until the tip rested on the edge of his tongue. Then, he went forward. It was… Like a caress, slow and deliberate. An effort the Werewolf appreciated with muffled groans.

The Dovakhiin grunted, but his mouth was deeply set and plugged by his Alpha's dick. He couldn't utter a word, even if he desired, but he couldn't bark, too. Or signify his discontent when Coal's brutal attitude left scars and slight gashes in his back. They were minimal, and his natural regeneration kicked in, closing them mere seconds after they were birthed. But his leathery skin remained sensitive, and each shock and assault threatened the Werewolf's control of his bestial muzzle.

Still, he endured.

He bore the brunt of the assault as well as the weight. So long it meant to feel that tipped cock poking at his gaping, dripping, and saliva-coated asshole. The orifice had been primed; Coal's dick was rigid and lubricated as well. His knot was out of his sheath, forming a bulbous base that rubbed against the Dovakhiin's perineum until…

Until he gasped.

From the Werewolf, the sound came deeper and, admittedly, closer to a growl. But that was a clear gasp for the half-wolves, followed by his dropping ears while he felt that wide canine dick press against his hole. The orifice clenched and resisted at first, a primal but natural resistance. But as soon as the cocktip moved, nudged, and wedged itself inside, it released.

The Werewolf released his muscles, relaxed throat, and ass… And allowed both beasts to enter inside fully….

Though it was from Coal, he endured the worst.

As the youngest, he was the most eager to prove his worth. His boldness wasn't stupidity, but when their Master gave himself to them like this, he had to do it. He had to jump, pounce, and abuse that hole until the Alpha wanted his turn.

So, Coal didn't wait for approval, watch the Omega's ears, or sniff the scent coming from the bitch. He took, stole even. His dick speared that orifice and forced it apart with a single thrust until his knotted base remained against the orifice.

Knotting was… Tempting.

That part of the Canine's dick was so sensitive, so pleasing to take and offer, so perfect to plug a bitch like the Dovakhiin and to keep him full until he had been properly impregnated. But Coal knew. He knew he couldn't hope to do so without angering the other pack members.

Therefore, the Werewolf wasn't bothered. He intimately understood what his companions thought and desired. Proving, pleasing, dominating.

Finally, as Steel moved his hips back to prepare another hump, the Werewolf pushed on his lover's legs to give him a bit more space, and growled. It wasn't to fend them away… But an encouragement. Though two of the three half-wolves seemed surprised, Coal's canine expression relaxed.

And he humped.

He humped to his heart's content, rocking the Werewolf's massive body while he piled up forward. If he had to scratch and hurt, it was at least for a reason: to hammer that knot against the orifice until it relaxed and opened.

It didn't… It remained too tight and close, but Coal's groans and growls were delightful to hear as much as feel for the Dovakhiin; his prostate hit and was beaten raw until more precum dripped from his organ right into Moonstone's open maw.

One behind, one below, one before. The old Werewolf was in the Hunting Grounds, ecstatic.

His mouth was full, his mind rested… Remained the breeding as his rocking hips hit Moonstone's tongue and rubbed against the rough texture. He groaned, his ears twitching with pleasure while more and more precum pressed on the canine's tongue. With Coal's stretching his insides, he was feeling his orgasm rising. He felt it grow and grow, that fiery heat within his groin and ass. And likewise, he felt it, saw it, noticed it, with Steel and Coal.

Their bodies tensed, too. Their muscles were rigid, and their movements irregular. Their twitching ears also gave them away as the Werewolf bobbed his head further and had that cocktip spearheading his throat.

There was no gargle or gurgle, his gag reflex erased by his curse, while the Canine's cock throbbed in his throat, and that knot threatened to lock inside. It twitched; it hit the back of his throat… And then. It spewed.

Warm canine spunk hit the back of his throat, forcing the graying Werewolf to swallow that tacky and reeking load until it dropped in his stomach. And even then, it was a flow that kept going and going. His gulpings were loud, filled the room amidst the moans and groans. Steel kept stuffing his stomach, fed with that musky and salty spunk he had always loved since his introduction to it.

But it wasn't the end, not when Coal's dick hammered his ass faster and faster. He had surely noticed Steel being done, and the Alpha would certainly have his turn soon. That knowledge made the youngest eager to breed the Omega. His hips humped faster, stronger, hitting the Werewolf's ass in a relentless assault. One brutal enough to nearly rammed the Werewolf's cock into Moonstone's open throat.

One brutal enough to make the Werewolf's muffled groans reach higher and higher as his testicles clenched and dick throbbed.

That climax was coming too fast. It was too intense. And… In a reflex, the Dovakhiin thrust his head forward.

He nearly hit Steel's hips with his muzzle, but it gave the result he wanted. The Half-wolf knot was set in his mouth, inflated and pulsating. Its oversized presence kept the Werewolf's jaw from closing at all, locking that mouth open despite the desire to grit his teeth and bite.

Coal was too brutal, too… Much. Too… Savage against his burning prostate. The Dovakhiin's claws dug into the rock, taking chunks away while his body shivered, and… he came.

He came: clenching and close his hole on that Dick, making his Alpha yelp; emptying himself within Moonstone's open mouth and nearly plunging his length inside that throat.

The Dovakhiin came, mounted by two beasts and sucked off by another.

An orgasm… Followed by another as the poor Coal tried to pull out, only to feel the reinforced grip all over his sensitive dick. He cried, whined… And when he was finally out, cum spewed from his dick and the Werewolf's hole.

He had bred the bitch, but he wasn't looking as proud with his rigid red knot, his humpings, and his tail between his legs.

Distant yelps and moans followed as Coal stepped away from the Omega despite his ejaculation. Only Steel remained inside… All the while, the nearly crushed Moonstone tried to grasp the events that had passed above.

Despite this, despite the brutality and the overall end… The Dovakhiin was happy.

He was even happier when Moonstone took his turn with his ass, humping and filling him but without knotting him. He was back in the Hunting Grounds when it was Steel's turn to take his ass and breed him, knot him while his belly bulged.

The Dovakhiin didn't dare to move, all too happy to be used and abused by his lovers.

Even when distant groans emanated from the cellar below.

Even when the door flung open and loud steps followed.

Even when those massive forms appeared before his eyes with their knotted cocks ready and hard.

He dared not move as his Pack remained aside, admiring their Omega meeting with his peers sleeping below.

He didn't twitch until the first Werewolf gripped his chin and lifted to his muzzle to meet with that red cock… One the old Werewolf started to suck… As he would do with all the males living in his humble abode.