My Furst Tail, part 2
#3 of My Furst Tail
There's no path to speak of on the route we take, so there are no highwaymen for us to forcefully retire. We were both hungry before the run-in with that ethereal spider; the unexpected expenditure of energy had left us starving. We could have hunted down our dinner and slept under the stars, but tonight was a night for civilization: Cooked food and a soft bed prepared by an inkeeper-- and buckets of steaming water to wash away the arachnid gore and dirt. Red Leaf plucked a few mushrooms to tide us over. We had the "ring talk" again on the way there.
"You know, one of these days, you're going to lose those rings, and you're going to pull one of your daredevil stunts, forgetting your parachutes are gone." He has a sincere concern in his voice, but he keeps his tone measured and not overbearing. "You'll splatter like a giant rotten tomato all over the ground, and I'll get to be the one who scoops you up into a waterskin so I can give your family your remains."
I chuckle. "If you show up at my mother's house with a sack of liquified me, she'd probably mutter something about how I've always been the black bird of the family and she knew this would happen someday."
"Lorek, you're a kenku." He smiles as ruffles the feathers on my head. "You're all black birds."
I smooth my plumage down and glare at him. "We both know you're the tall one, Red. No need to remind me." He gives me this look like I'm being the insensitive one.
"It's fine," I sigh. I know he means well. Words can't express how grateful I am for his friendship. He knows me and understands me almost as well as I know myself, and he's saved my life more than once. Then I bought myself these fancy magic rings, and I don't need saving anymore. Speaking of which...
"Look, if I somehow lost my ring of feather falling, I'd still have my ring of nine lives. And if I somehow lost that, I'd be a hell of a lot more careful. And if I somehow forgot that my rings were gone and I did something stupid and reckless... Well then, I guess I'd deserve to be dead."
The muscular wolfkin stops, crosses his toned arms, and purses his lips. Eyes like fiery jade pierce my skull and halt me in my tracks. I turn around.
"You've got magic equipment of your own, you know. I don't ask you how your talismans work, or what you'd do if they broke. That doesn't mean I don't think about it... I don't like the thought of losing you, but I trust you to know what you're doing. Believe me, Red-- I don't want to die anymore than you do. And I don't want to leave your side."
His lips spread into an earnest smile, and I'm transfixed. Did he know how beautiful he was? Of course he did. When we travel into settlements, ladies flock to him and twirl in hormonal dances that make their breasts jiggle for his review. But did he know how I felt? How I've been attracted to him since the day we met, over two years ago? That sometimes I let him run ahead of me when we race, just so I can try and catch a glimpse of his package underneath that skimpy loin cloth? His luxurious grey fur looks more comfortable than any bed I can imagine.
And then there's me: A squat, skinny crow-man with talons for hands and ragged feathering. I'm average-looking for my species, and I suppose he is as well, but he could bed any beast-man or -woman he wanted. Not even other bird-folk want to mate with kenku, except maybe ravens and vultures. I keep walking.
"C'mon, Red. Town's not far now." The sun will be setting in a couple hours.
The sign at the village's perimeter says "Wheatfell"; it's a tiny thing, with perhaps a dozen houses, and just two roads leading in or out. True to its name, fields of grain stretch out behind the structures, and the air carries the pungent, shitty smell of agriculture. How anyone gets used to that is beyond me, and I'm the one covered with the insides of a giant spider.
I turn to Red Leaf. "You sure this place is big enough for an inn?"
He surprises me as he cups the underside of my skull, his padded paw gently directing my beak to our prospective lodgings, pointing with his left hand. For a moment there, our eyes were locked, his thick fingers cradling my head. Underneath these ebon feathers I'm flushed a burning red.
"Oh...," I stammer. "Well, it's in the middle of nowhere, so it's sure to be cheap. I just hope it's the good cheap."
I open the door and it trips a little brass bell hanging above. I quickly scan the place: Handcarved furniture; candles at the couple tables mean this foyer doubles as the dining room. The kitchen must be behind the island, judging from the scent. There's a small fireplace at one end with an old deerskin rug.
"Well, it's nothing fancy, but it's clean. Can't complain about that," I whisper to Red. But I don't feel him next to me. "Red... ?"
A portly, middle-aged human woman emerges from the room accross the counter. She is taken aback by the mutant standing befor her.
"Wha-- Well, hello, dear," she sings as she tries to regain her composure. "Welcome to my inn and my home, and the only traveler's resting place for fifty miles. How can I help you?"
I'm here to start a cult to sugared prunes, I think to myself acidly... Where the hell is he?
"I'm in dire need of a square meal, a hot bath, and a night's rest."
"That you are, lad, if you don't mind my saying so. Looks like you've got one foot in the grave, and you smell none too good, either."
"Thanks." My singular utterance curls with sarcasm like heated paper.
"Yes, well... Tell you what, dear. You can set all your belongings in the room upstairs and to the left. I'll put a few kettles on the fire, and set to work on your dinner while you bathe. Washroom's 'round the back. No key for the room, I'm afraid. The door shuts tight, though, and I'll only intrude to fetch you for meals. So what it is it you..." I can see in her briefly contorted face she's searching her mind for a term that won't belittle me or my race. Unable to come up with anything, she clasps her hands over her belly and sighs. "What is it you eat?"
"Cheese, bread-- meat, if it's available. Same as you or anyone else, I imagine."
"Excellent. It's three silver a night," she adds as she extends her palm. I pull out a small pouch and hand her the change. She ogles my scaly arm and the sharp claws I have for fingers. Better keep her calm, at least until I'm clean again.
"This is a fine establishment you've got, ma'am, and you've got all the markings of a good woman. I'll gladly pay you more if the amenities are half as lovely as your spirit." I smile with my eyes (I don't have lips) and pray it doesn't look like squint of a scheming villian.
"Thank ye, lad. What's your name, anyway?"
"Lorek," I say and bow ever-so-slightly.
"Well met, Lorek. Well, go on-- Up to yer room!"
I ascend the creaky stairs, wondering if she manages this place all alone. Even if we're in the middle of nowhere, a proprietor without help is just asking for trouble from a surly drunk... or worse. I open my door on a sparse room: Low-to-the-ground bed with a straw mattress and downy buffer; nightstand with three drawers and a candle, and a small armoire. There's a bookshelf, too, but it's threadbare; just a couple knickknacks and some loose-leaf paper. I start to remove my outer garments when the door shuts behind me.
"Red! ... I figured you were okay, but you just vanished without telling me."
He's radiating amusement. "Just a bit of hide-and-seek, old friend. Besides, this way we get the room at a discount!"
"Yeah, but... where are you going to sleep?"
"Oh." The word swallows itself. Is that a look of disappointment?
" Red...?"
"Well, I can take the floor," he adds in that same tone.
"Look, if you want the bed that badly, I can--"
"No, no, it's okay. It's my fault for being a little too foolish." He takes the pile of belongings off the floor and starts to put them away. "I'll watch your stuff, crow. You get washed off. You're still a bit funky."
"All right. Thanks." I turn to leave.
"And don't take all the hot water! I probably need a bath, too."
"You smell fine, Red-- good, as a matter of fact, but I'll save some for you." I give him a nod and head downstairs.
The washroom has a modest iron tub, big enough for me but maybe a bit cramped for Red. There are four steaming buckets positioned around it. She must have already been heating water for herself. That, or she's a spellcaster. I shut the door behind me and pour in two of the buckets. It's been a month since the last time I had this luxury. I disrobe and cautiously poke a toe in. Hot! Too hot-- looks like I'll need to wait a bit.
Standing there naked, my mind begins to wander. It wanders to Red Leaf. I think about him holding our faces close, about how much he cares about me and my welfare. Why didn't he speak up at the inn? A few pieces of silver is nothing to us. He had to have known a small-town inn like this normally has four rooms at most, one bed apiece. Was he really going to make me sleep on the floor while he gets the bed? Or... could he have wanted to share it?
I feel a stirring beneath my feathers, my tool growing rock-hard at the thought of bedding him. It pushes its way out from beneath my plumage, the shaft stretching out like a seedling in the sun. Good thing there aren't any windows in here. Thinking about Red in that way has my mind racing, my heart pumping, and my cock throbbing, and I know I'm not going to have any peace until I take care of it. I sigh in self-defeat. How many times have I done this now? How many times have I shot my cum all over dreaming of him? When am I going to learn he wants nothing to do with me? My erection pulses, reminding me of its presence, demanding my attention. I place my left hand around its base, my right applying light pressure below, where my testicles sit in my perineal wall.
I try to coax them out, lightly tugging on them. They give way after a few seconds, my sac bulging out of my body just enough for me to work it. My other hand has begun its slow, rhythmic strokes. I sigh again, this time more from pleasure than pity.
The water seems cool by comparison to me. I hop in and let myself unwind, the heat soothing my every muscle, all the while continuing to work myself over. My pouch is taut; my balls are firm. I can practically feel them working, churning out sperm as they march towards release. Precum drips from me, dribbling onto my hand and mixing with the bath. Oh, by all the gods, yes, Red! Touch me!
My hand starts working double-time, splashing the water against the sides, sending it over the rim of the tub. I hope she's busy in the kitchen, because it sounds like I'm wrestling a shark. I think about his body, every inch of it-- I've stolen a peek at his goods enough to know what he's packing. I imagine him pulling me on top of him, kissing and licking and stroking me, his boner rubbing up against mine, an aura of heat and musk coming from his groin and hole. Oh, that hole... so tight and inviting... I want to touch it, lick it, kiss it, relax him to the point that he's putty in my hands, and then... fuck... and then...
I freeze as I hear the washroom door creak.