Michlah focuses his gaze on the paladin in the mirror and sighs, shaking his head. “Can’t I at least get something to wear, first?”
“Try the shelf below you,” Tybalt says, stepping back.
Michlah pulls the thing open and produces from it a covering not unlike the loose-fitting robes of the acolytes out in the garden beyond his prison window. “This isn’t much better than just wearing the bedsheets.”
“You won’t have to keep your hands clinging to yourself with it on. “The paladin responds, picking up the sheet and spreading it over the bed. “I shall avert my eyes while you dress.”
“What’s the point?” Michlah sighs, slipping the thing over himself. “You’ve already seen all of me, anyway. It’s the way of your people, isn’t it? Keep nothing secret from one another, and fuck whenever you wish?”
Tybalt fluffs a pillow, a soft giggle passing his lips. “You make it sound so crass, but I suppose you are allowed to think it if that’s what you want to think. We provide comfort at the temple of love,” Tybalt says, patting the pillow and then sitting on the bed. “It is the guiding force in many lives to seek comfort in all its forms. There are just those who would deny simple, intimate connection from others or, worse yet, abuse such a connection.”
Michlah pats the flowy robes over him, the fabric soft and airy over his body. He sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing away from the paladin. “So, you don’t blame a guy for wanting to explore his sexuality outside the bounds of his society?”
“I do not. As long as all parties consent and enjoy each other, there is no fault in expressing joy, passion, and love.”
Michlah grips the fabric, his shoulders shaking. “Yeah, it was all well and good beforehand, but everything after that’s been terrible.”
“I do not wish to cast judgment on the one who afflicted you so soon,” Tybalt says, leaning back, enough that his warmth radiates to the lycanthrope’s head. “But if someone is willfully afflicting people, they must face punishment.”
“Yeah, it’s not like it was all her fault. I was a dummy, and I started it.”
“Just tell me the story of your encounter and everything you can about the one you met.”
—
I am a traveling merchant of poultices and remedies by trade. I often find myself in the poorly lit corners of inn rooms as I travel from place to place, seeking new reagents to make more potent potions. But it is a lonely life, with many relationships being fleeting things and the only companionship being the secret signs of those also in my field, which, admittedly, I do not see very often.
So, when she arrived at the tavern one foggy night, it was like an oasis in the desert. At first, I had thought her to be some manner of barbarian or warrior, as she carried a large pack on her broad shoulders, her armor straining against her bulging form. As she spoke to others in the taproom, pulling out her pack of poultices and concoctions, I knew I had found someone with whom I had some connection.
And though her canid form was exotic to me, I found it to be of the most intriguing nature, more than one that bothered me.
I approached her, having imbibed some local potions. I had a little courage in me. I noticed something about her: a rugged edge to her smile and a gruff growl in her voice. I immediately let my knowledge of my craft take control, guided by the unmeasured amounts of drink I indulged in with her.
“So,” I said to her, feeling the courageous brew working through me, “I usually take the common rooms around here, but how about we share a suite?”
She flashed me the toothiest of grins and patted me on the head. “I’d just love that.”
That deep, growling voice and the strength but tenderness in her patting paw were enough to get me to foot the bill for our drinks and the premium accommodations.
It wasn’t long after we broke through the threshold of our room that I threw myself upon her, lavishing kisses on her neck and shoulder, which I could barely make it to, even while standing on my tiptoes. There was something to the fuzziness of her fur, its softness, and its muskiness—all elements served to drive me wild!
And in the heat of the passion, I threw off my garments before her, offering myself.
On her part, she mostly sat on the bed, hardly having removed anything other than her shoes. And that is when she asked me, “You got any concoctions to keep us safe, little man?”
I must admit my embarrassment. There I was, a man of medicine. Yet, I completely forgot about the chance to have an anonymous meeting with a powerful lady.
“That’s okay,” she said, rummaging through her pack and producing a glowing bottle. “I got a little something that’ll make sure we’re both able to have fun tonight and not have to worry. I got one question for ya, though.”
I asked her, sincerely transfixed by the mysterious brew, and she responded, saying bluntly, “Would you fuck a girl with a cock?”