Pendant of Fortune (34 page)

Volle looked down and saw his erection.
It is
, he said.

Then come here. This is what you wanted, isn’t it?
The white Nero sat up and Volle saw his shaft, similarly erect and pink against the white fur. He patted his lap.

Volle was on the bed, then, and he felt the wolf hard under his tail. The wolf’s paw stroked him up and down.
We have to do this
, he said,
until the truth comes out. You’re not afraid, are you?

He became aware that Dereath was standing by the bed watching them. The sensations were familiar but didn’t build to a climax, and after a little while Dereath took him by the paw and led him off the bed.
That’s enough. You can go.

He was in another room then, a door closed behind him, and it was Streak’s tower cell, but he was standing in the rain. He turned to see who had closed the door, but only Ilyana’s scent came to him. He knew he was standing in Streak’s cell, but when he turned back around, it was the small hut with the bath in the center, and the young otter stood there, naked and dripping. He smiled tentatively, and Volle knew he was waiting to be paid. He handed him three coins that he found in his paw, and the otter put them down, then sat in the white powdery bath, which seemed to be sheltered from the rain. The dust crept up his fur as he beckoned to Volle.
This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’re not afraid, are you?

The scent of otter was strong in his nostrils, and his sheath thrummed with desire. He took a step toward the bath, put his paw down, and felt the white dust envelop him like a blanket. The otter put a paw on his dust-covered sheath.
Lord Vinton?

The dust was more and more thick atop him. He tried to push it aside. “Lord Vinton?”

Slowly he blinked into wakefulness. He had his paws full of blankets and a voice was whispering his name. His nose was still full of the scent of otter, and as he turned to the bedside, he saw the young otter from the bath house kneeling there, one paw on his stomach. “Lord Vinton?” the otter whispered.

“
Wha—? How did…?” he said blurrily.

“
Lord Ikling sent me,” and Volle realized as the otter said it that he was older than the otter from the bath house. His chest was broader and his voice was deeper.

“
For what?” He was still trying to shake the sleep from his eyes.

“
He was worried you were lonely.” The otter smiled, his paw slipping down to the bulge that covered Volle’s hardness, very tight and very full. “I suppose he was right. You do feel lonely.”

“
Listen,” Volle said, brought more awake by the touch, “I…”

“
It’s all right.” The otter stood in a fluid motion, so Volle could see his large sac and maleness, hanging between his legs. He let Volle have a good look as he slowly pulled the blanket back. “It’s what I’m here for.”

His fur was silvery in the night, though there wasn’t much light. Either the moon had gone behind a cloud, or it hadn’t risen yet. But the otter had definitely risen. His maleness was sleek and full, and despite the dim light, Volle could see it clearly in the reflected light from the otter’s ivory white chest and stomach-fur.

His protests ebbed away. The otter smiled again and knelt on either side of his legs, pinning them down. He bent down and applied a large, soft tongue to Volle’s sac. As hard as it was, Volle’s erection still jumped and shivered at that touch. He clutched the blankets and gasped softly as the tongue lapped over and over, dampening the fur, describing the roundness and caressing it, pushing against the hard base of his erection that lay behind his sac. The tongue moved up and slowly slid along his length, as lovingly and familiarly as if they had been lovers many times before.

The scent of otter was too strong for Volle to imagine anyone else. He tried pressing one of the pillows to his nose, but Streak’s scent on it was old. All it did was muffle his moans as the otter’s touch made his knot swell larger. His body felt as though it were on fire. He knew it was only because he had been celibate for several days, but knowing didn’t diminish the pleasure, or the undertone of guilt. So he left Streak’s memory behind and cried out in pleasure as the otter’s paw gripped his knot, taking his length fully into the warm muzzle.

This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

His legs tensed and gathered as he felt his release building, but the otter did too, and stopped abruptly. Volle threw the pillow aside and looked up at him, unable to form words, his body so close.

“
My, you are lonely.” The otter smiled. “I was told to give you the full treatment.” He moved forward on Volle, straddling his stomach, and lifted Volle’s slick erection before settling down.

Volle’s whole body convulsed as the short fur brushed his shaft, soft and yet not as plush as the only other fur to touch it in the past year. And then the otter’s tight tail hole and rear had surrounded his shaft, slid down its length slowly, and had pressed up against his knot. Volle gasped and moaned, anticipating the fire he would feel when the otter pushed down further, but the otter was in no hurry. He slid up and down, keeping Volle on the edge, and if the fox thought he couldn’t get any closer without coming, he realized he’d been wrong.

The otter’s erection waved up and down in front of him, and when he put a paw on it, the otter made a soft chirring noise. He kept stroking, barely aware of the slick pre dripping from the end, mostly just occupying his paw. His soft pads stroked over the thick length, registering that it was shorter and thicker than he was used to; his strokes kept sliding off the end. It felt wrong to him, but he adjusted.

His knot felt as though it were going to burst. The otter was moving faster and faster, and the fire was building in him even without the pressure on his knot. The otter’s shaft was quivering beneath his paw and seemed already on the edge. “Nice…fox…” he panted, his breaths becoming heavier and deeper. And then he pressed his rear down against Volle’s hips.

Volle’s knot seemed to explode. The otter kept his tail hole tight as he forced Volle’s knot into it, and Volle arched his back as the explosion spread throughout his body. He moaned loudly as the convulsions forced his seed out into the otter in spasms, each one a bright wave of pleasure rushing through him. It had only been a few days, but it was as if he hadn’t had a climax in weeks, or months. He was aware that he was still moaning, and he closed his muzzle as he sank back onto the bed.

He kept his paw moving, and moments later the scent of otter grew sharper and stronger. He felt a warm splash against the fur of his ear, then another on his chest, and the otter’s pants became moans of passion. He tugged on Volle’s knot as his body shook, and Volle clenched his teeth, yelping between them at the pressure on his sensitive member.

His paw was sticky when he drew it back. He felt serene, but as the pleasure subsided, the undertone of guilt remained. He convinced himself that Streak wouldn’t care. Then he convinced himself again. It didn’t seem to take.

“
Lord…Vinton,” the otter panted. “I hope you feel…less lonely.”

“
Yes,” Volle lied. “Thank you. You were wonderful.” That part, at least, he could be sincere about.

The otter smiled, whiskers twitching. “Well,” he said, “you obviously needed it, my Lord.”

“
Yes, I did.” He felt sleep stealing up on him again, but held it off for the moment. He had needed it, and as he thought about it, he didn’t want his first time in that many days to be with Dereath. He might have enjoyed it too much. “What’s your name? How did Helfer know you?”

“
I’m Ellitt, my Lord. Lord Ikling knows the establishment where I work. He sent Huster down tonight specifically looking for an otter, and since Jillick was off tonight…” He shrugged and smiled.

“
You can tell Lord Ikling that you performed admirably.”

“
Thank you, my Lord.” The otter smiled and wriggled. Volle’s knot was subsiding, but he was still tied to the otter.

Volle knew mustelids and knew Ellitt would be ready for more in a few minutes, but thankfully, he didn’t feel any obligation to take care of it. He would probably be up for another round soon, since it had been so long, but he thought sleep was going to win out. He wished it were Streak sitting astride him, Streak brushing his chest’s fur, Streak’s thick,
(fluffy)
muscular tail lying on his legs, but the best he could cling to was that tomorrow, he would take the first step toward seeing the wolf again.

Sleep overtook him then in short waves. He came fully awake when Ellitt lifted himself up, letting his shaft slide free. The otter gave it a short caress and then covered Volle with the blankets again. Seeing Volle’s eyes on him, he smiled and gave a short bow. “Good night, Lord Vinton.” The moonlight gleamed off his fur in a way that made it look wet. Through the filter of his dream, Volle saw him almost glisten.

“
Night,” he murmured, lifting a paw.

Ellitt bent to pick up a garment from the floor, stepped into a pair of shorts, and then slipped from the room. Volle didn’t see him go.

In the morning, he smelled the otter scent all over his bed, dispelling any thought he might have had that the episode was just a dream. Lying in bed, he tried to sort through the chaotic whirl of his feelings. He felt guilty, but he didn’t know why. He and Streak had never talked about being exclusive to each other, but they’d never had the opportunity not to be. Streak’s reaction upon hearing about Volle’s prior escapades had been caution, with some amusement, as though he weren’t worried about it happening again. But they’d never discussed it. Volle realized that one thing making him more tense than anything else was that he didn’t know how Streak would react when he found out about the night with Ellitt.

If he found out.

He pushed that thought aside and flicked his ears, suddenly aware of the encrustations on his left. He got up and walked to the bathroom, still brooding. It hadn’t been wrong, what he did, but he felt bad for having enjoyed it so much. Maybe it was that he felt he’d replaced Streak—but he clearly hadn’t.

But was he worried Streak would see it that way?

With rough strokes, he brushed the dried semen from his ear and chest, adding some scented powder so at least he wouldn’t be carrying the same scent on him. He watched the fur settle to the floor. How long had it been since he’d brushed someone else’s scent out of his fur? In an odd way, he missed that, and the little voices inside his head were growing louder, more seductive, telling him that he could have Ellitt or someone like him every night. Someone different, every night. A wife to look after his son and leave him free to gather intelligence and seduce young males over at the Lonely Cock.

A return to the past he’d thought had slipped away.

Avery and Tish would be happy about that—one less liability to worry about. And his duty to Fox said he should look after his family, his pack. Who was more his pack than his wife and son? But the thought of sending the young wolf away brought a new kind of ache. Like it or not, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He loved Streak, and while he’d been in love before and not worried about being with other people, this time was different. “I’m not twenty any more,” he muttered to himself. “And I’m not a weasel.”

Helfer had no concept of a time when he wouldn’t be able to wander down to a bar and pick up a young rabbit. Or maybe he did, but the money his estate brought him would mean he would always have a bed at the Jackal’s Staff, the all-male brothel in Divalia near the palace. But Ellitt had driven something home to Volle; that as much as he might long for another one-night-stand, he longed for a familiar touch even more. Streak was his pack and his family, and he knew Fox would understand.

He only hoped Streak understood too, when Volle was forced to tell him about Ellitt. If only Helfer hadn’t hired him. Volle had been doing well enough on his own; yes, he’d been tempted by the otter in the bath house, but conscience and fate had prevented him from giving in there. Last night, he’d been sleepy and he hadn’t really had a chance to say no. And he’d enjoyed it. A lot. He felt guilty even as he replayed some of the memories in his head, and he knew that just the fact that he felt guilty meant it had been wrong on some level, and he threw the brush to the floor in frustration.

And of course, it was just at that moment that Helfer walked in.

“
You ready yet?” The weasel poked his head into the bathroom, lifted his nose and smiled. “I can tell you and Ellitt enjoyed yourselves. Was he cute?”

Volle grunted noncommittally. Helfer seemed so proud of what he’d done, and completely oblivious to the anguish Volle was going through because of him. Normally Helfer’s shortsightedness wasn’t a problem, but this time was too much.

“
What? Didn’t it work out?” Helfer’s smile faded.

“
It was fine. He was cute. Let’s just go.” Volle brushed by the weasel and out of the bedroom.