The Lycan and the Witch

"No... No, that time is not for you, love, trust me there. We'll get you through this, but you are who you are. You are beautiful. Look how much stronger your body is becoming, and you've only been here for a few weeks."

She bid him to look, lifting the blanket a little, and it was true that, under her care and the light, increasing work she allowed him to do, his chest was a little broader, more muscle defining his lean form. Swallowing hard, he shook his head, but she pressed on, not to be so easily dissuaded.

"You are strong and you are powerful in ways that your brother and those that wronged you never will be. There is more than the narrow scope of life that they have presented -- and I think you already know that, in part, too. But we have to have you believe it."

Tenderly, she stroked the top of his head, the silky fur there gleaming with better health than it had when he'd arrived. Faolán shivered.

"And, darling, it is not for you to think that the ways of love are lost to you. I am not of your kind, but I can show you the way. Maybe one day, there will be a pack mate of your own kind for you, if that is the route you chose."

He looked up at her, eyes shining, though it was tears of hope that she found there, kissing the side of his muzzle softly, so softly that it was as if she was afraid of pushing him away.

"You would? I mean... Right... Right now?"

It was a distraction and she would have hesitated if her heart did not pull for the Lycan so much. He didn't always wear clothes while in her abode, as the wolves chose things like that as they pleased and what he'd worn during the fight outside the walls of her garden had been ripped to shreds long ago, but the white tunic top with an open neck showed his chest well enough, a little too large for him. His heart beat quicker and quicker as he reached for her, a plaintive whimper pulling at his lips. Trousers covered his genitals, too short and cutting off around his calves, but the moment already was as it was.

"Please..."

She could do nothing else. Maybe it was the next step in their relationship, the softening of a rescue and then a friendship into something new. Maybe it had always been meant to be. All she knew was that he needed her and, with her family having moved away to begin their lives, she was far more than just a mother to the young Lycan.

If she could give him one gift, it would be of being wanted.

She led him to her bedroom, soothing the shivers from his bones, though he lit the fire for her, always wanting to be useful, to do things for her. Arabella allowed it, if only so that he could feel good, for she did not need him to do so much, even as she took the lead, her heart pounding, drawing him into her arms.

Yet that was right where the Lycan wanted to be as she layered his muzzle with kiss after kiss, happy to follow her lead, something tingling inside him that he had never considered. To be wanted, to be needed... It was something raw and carnal inside him and he panted even as he strove to return her kisses, nuzzling her face, her neck, the witch-woman shivered while the black fur of his muzzle tickled her.

"Oh... See, you are already better than you think you are, Faolán. Let me know you, show you..."

Together, they disrobed: at least, for Faolán, that was the easy part. Clothes went on and off in specific ways, but he stumbled over his trousers, his human-like genitalia throbbing, tingling strangely, a way that he could not put his finger on. For his eyes were on Arabella as her smooth shoulders were revealed, the strength in her back, her hair falling freely down her back. Her body was revealed to him as he revealed himself, more intimately, to her, whimpering, pawing at his muzzle, heart pounding in a chest that no longer felt as strong as the witch had professed it to be.

But that did not matter, not as they came together, Arabella showing him herself, the fullness of her breasts softly pulling down under their own weight, though not a soul would ever have described them as sagging, not in the slightest. In all ways, she was a beauty, her lips plump and full, smiling as she ran her hands over the wolf's body.

"Relax, sweetheart... We can stop any time you want. We do not have to do this tonight. This is for you."

She might have been taking the lead, but it was about him as she rubbed his back, finding the tightness in his muscles and releasing it. Trigger points, so it seemed, were not all that different on a Lycan to a human and he whimpered, his length half-hard, yet not fully aroused, the younger Lycan torn and yet enjoying at the same time.

He eased onto his back at her bidding as her hands ran down his chest, drawing his attention, once again, to the muscle there, how he had changed. When his paws twitched, as if wanting something, she nodded permission, and he so very tenderly and lightly stroked her breasts as they hung towards him, so gently that it was as if he truly feared hurting her.

"Sweet one... You may do all you like here."

Creeping her hand down his stomach, she parted her lips to ask permission of her own, for violating him was hardly anything near what she wanted to do, but the Lycan was already nodding, the thinner fur of his cheeks revealing a blush.

"Ah... Yes..."

She chuckled softly, closing her hand around his shaft, showing him what it felt like to have another hand touching him, stroking him lightly, bringing him to full hardness in only a few strokes. He trembled up into her touch with a low whimper, trying to thrust and grind even then, though the Lycan did not yet know how to get his hind paws under him and thrust up, not from such a position.

Arabella licked her lips, her excitement building, a prickling heat beneath the surface as she straddled his waist.

"With a female, you can please them too, like this." She turned her back to him, still straddling his waist, facing his shaft while her backside rolled back towards his muzzle. "It does not always have to be about penetration, this virility, but pleasure... Try with your fingers, as gently as you touched my breasts, sweet one."

Faolán tried, though he still had short claws, which had thankfully been filed down. She had to guide his paw-like hand with hers, showing him how to slip his fingers into her, how one at a time could slip into her juices, the flow of her arousal glistening faintly on the folds of her sex. The Lycan whimpered, nose twitching, yet it was too inviting to keep fingering her, pushing back and forth, taking her guidance in hand while he was shown just what to do, that he was worth wanting, that he was worth so much more than what others in his life had told him so far.

But his fingers worked too well, especially the curve of his claws pushing up against that pleasurable spot deep inside her, rubbing and teasing, showing her the path that she, indeed, wanted to lead him down. With a gasp, he found himself devoid of woman, Arabella gently helping him to sit up, propping him up against the headboard of the bed with pillows behind him, tucked into his lower back, to keep him upright.

"Here..."

She kissed his nose, the moistness unlike anything she had had before, but she took his hands, letting them rest on her waist, down to her hips, caressing her breasts, wherever he liked them to go. His tongue flickered out and she moaned softly against him, kissing him more deeply, though a kiss between a woman and a Lycan would never be entirely seamless and fluid. That was not what it was about, not even as she tenderly scratched him behind the ear, showing him how he could move his lips gently against hers, sharing murmured teases.

And Faolán grew in confidence, running his hands down her back, moaning into the kiss, his shaft throbbing up against her. It was not love but not pure lust either as she looked into his amber eyes, hand on his muzzle while he dipped it, nibbling at a breast, trying out new things, swirling his tongue around a nipple.

"Ah... Faolán."

They knew, even without knowing, that the time was right, her hips lifting, sitting in his lap but holding her own body while she helped him to guide her down, her hand going to his shaft again. For it was Arabella that had to ease his length into her, the rounded head pushing against her folds, easily slipping deeper, her wetness preparing her for his moderate size in the best of ways.

"Mmm..."

Her moans rang in his ears even as he clung to her, trembling. All thoughts washed from Faolán's mind as he groaned, pleasure bursting forth, prickling through his skin. No longer did he feel insufferable, useless, a waste of space, but a being that could bring pleasure to another, someone who could be useful to another.

"Ah... Sweetheart, you're doing so well. Hold me tighter. Steady me."

She rode him slowly but showed him where to put his hands to best help her, his hands on her hips, rising and falling slowly but surely. It was a grind and a motion that he was not familiar with and yet hungered for instinctively, licking his lips, pressing his muzzle into the crook of her neck, nipping and licking, sensation after sensation washing through him.

"Yes, sweet one... You're wonderful."

He tried to repay her kindness in turn, but all that came from his lips was a moan that had her giggling, shifting her hips, riding him more fervently. For the need of their bodies bounced back and forth, shared between two bodies and beings, however they were joined in that moment, the time for them and them alone.

It would forever change the course of their relationship as something shifted between them, changing, developing. It would come and that night was merely the beginning of so much more, tender kisses shared, Faolán's muscles tensing. She would have shown him how to bring her to ecstasy that time, but her hand did the work quicker, leading by example, fingering her clit while the throbbing length of his rod twitched inside her.

"Ah, yes..."

He held her as tightly as she had asked him to as she climaxed on him, yet his rougher kind of pleasure was quick to follow and messier still, Faolán twisting his head back and forth, struggling to contain the strange sensation. Yet orgasm could not be held back, not even then, as he let out a half-strangled howl, bucking and thrusting even in a position where he was not best placed for such things. But that was alright as he spent himself inside her, balls lightly aching, pulsing in a strange way. Everything about his body in that moment was new and fresh to him as she drew him in close, leaving his length inside her as their orgasm rolled forth, on and on, his gasping pants tickling her skin.

Yet afterwards there was more sweetness too to come as she took him to the bathing room where magic heated the tub of water, collected as rainwater and from the local river and hooked up to always have a fresh supply. It soothed him even as he lowered himself into it, naked before her with nothing sexual at play for the first time while he'd been under her care, the witch slipping in behind him, her head resting back on the edge of the large, carved tub.

"Relax, darling... This pleasure is for you too. Always, for you."

His eyelids fluttered, wanting to close. Yes... Yes, he was worth something, worth more. It was a start, just a start, but that was all Faolán needed. Her arms went around him, holding him close, protecting him, and even his lanky frame felt small and tender so close to her, a pup that needed to be held, to be protected even as he grew strong enough to perhaps protect her too.

Together, they relaxed in the water, though the weeks to come would show him to be the best assistant she'd ever had, learning the lore of herbs, even how to aid her in preparing spells to bring betterment to the lives of others. It was not all to be a single-faceted relationship as he took care of her garden, the house, sweeping and cleaning, poring over books, learning what herbs did what and studying more than he had ever imagined possible. Over time, more muscle slowly developed over him, some of his shaggy fur smoothing down. All he'd needed, truly, had been a little care and love and attention to grow, just like all that he tended to needed.

He was her assistant in the daytime and, when their work was done, they spooned in bed, making love, his length inside her, their bodies perfectly fitting together as if they were made for one another. Their lives were bound, forever, though they may have broken apart for fresher pastures one day too, the sort of lives that could slip apart and come back together over and over again, finding different paths and facets every time.

One thing, however, that Faolán knew, whether he was refreshing the teapot or improving his rudimentary literacy skills, was that he was where he needed to be. The story of the Lycan and the witch was not yet over and there was yet another page to turn.

With Arabella warm in his bed at night, their bed, a bed that held their bodies comfortably together, the Lycan, finally, slept soundly, at peace with himself.

There was nothing to fear with her near.

Never again.