Dark Elven Desires Part 10 – What the Wolf Wants

He pressed her into the dirt to hide from orcs. She felt something else pressing against her. Neither of them spoke of it. Not yet.

Part 10: What the Wolf Wants, By Mia Sumner

The journey was quiet. Not silent or peaceful, more a pressure that Lizbeth felt growing with each step she took. Osric’s silent presence only added to the weight of her discomfort. He barely spoke, beyond the occasional grunt, and never looked directly at her. The stiffness of his posture an accusation that she was an unwelcome burden. Lizbeth spent much of her day staring at his back, at his silvered hair as she followed him day after day.

He moved with a confident smoothness. Head up and alert, always aware of his surroundings, his feet never making a sound. Her mind flashed back to the night before and his animalistic coupling with Illona. She was glad she was walking behind him then, that he couldn’t see the flush on her cheeks or the way she bit her lower lip. Illona knew what she’d seen, did Osric too?

Her head was full of sights and thoughts, her world reshaped since the orc invasion and her now innocent seeming dalliance with Darrick. The thought of him and what must have happened to him felt like a fresh wound in her chest. It was, oddly, easier to think of the look on Maid Thiphania’s face as she eagerly succumbed to the Orcs, or of Illona’s moans of pleasure as she was mounted. As confusing as the feelings were that those thoughts stirred in her, they didn’t hurt, in truth, she could admit they still excited her even if they shouldn’t, and at least they were a distraction.

Enough of a distraction that she almost walked into Osric’s back, freezing only an inch from him. She was suddenly aware of the faint metallic trace of wolf hair on his cloak and the way the muscles of his forearm corded as he gripped his weapon. Lizbeth’s body tensed as she peered around him, wondering what had caused the sudden alarm.

A spear, snapped in half, jutted out of the short grass at the side of the road, a jagged threat that made her heart speed up. Her eyes followed the trail of blood away from the road to a body, half buried in the mud. Fear lodged in her throat as images of the savage orcs swirled in her mind. Her chest felt tight, constricted, were they near?

Osric gripped her wrist hard, dragging her behind him towards a low thicket on the other side of the path and pulling her down to the ground. Lizbeth felt the dampness of the ground as Osric’s weight settled on top of her, his cloak covering them both. Illona’s warning echoed in her head as his scent enveloped her. It was hard to breathe, a stone dug painfully into her hip. Her heart thumped, fear surging through her body, wondering how close the orcs were as she resisted the urge to move and look.

Time passed with agonizing slowness, every breath dragged out. She became increasingly aware of Osric’s body pressed against her own, muscular, masculine. On top of her the way he had been on top of Illona. The thought popped in unbidden. She could feel his tension, his body tight like a coiled spring. Held in restraint but ready to act. His musk filled her nostrils now, the air hot under his cloak. His breathing steady but heightened.

She felt it then, his wolf. Barely restrained, surging to break out. And the excitement that came with it, hard against her thigh. So close to her. A moment’s loss of control on his part and the wolf would have her. She stayed still. Not inviting, but not resisting. His hand gripped her shoulder, fingers digging in even through her clothes.

And then he was gone. Light and cold air hit her all at once as he stood. He didn’t look at her though, they both knew what had nearly happened.

“They’re gone for now.” Was all he said, his voice like something dragged up from somewhere he kept locked.

After that his silence and distance from her increased, if that was possible. The walking felt interminable, but the nights were even longer. He sat, silent and on guard, his back to the small fire he allowed. If he slept, she never saw it. She, in turn, lay feigning sleep as her mind replayed that brief moment of contact. His cock against her, hard, ready. What might have happened if he had lost control in that moment. Her mind flashed back to that night with Illona and the animalistic intensity with which Osric had taken her.

The moon was waxing, his wolf growing more powerful. How long before he lost control. How would it feel when he did? Why did the heat, and dampness between her legs grow every time she thought about it?

Six nights later he finally broke his silence.

“I don’t want to be the thing you run from.” His voice rough and unused, his back to her, stiff, rigid. Lizbeth lay there, unsure how to respond. The silence lingered like pressure, before he continued. “The moon brings me closer to wolf than man and Illona is not here to sooth those instincts.”

Lizbeth swallowed, she could clearly picture the instincts he referred to. Their raw coupling and Illona’s moans of pleasure. And then again to Osric’s hard cock pressed to her thigh, so close. She bit her lip, glad the shadows hid her flushed face. The heat spreading again.

“How does it work?” Her voice, faint, and halting in the night. “Your… wolf.”

“It’s not mine. It is me.” He corrected and Lizbeth frowned, trying to puzzle out the difference. “I feel what it feels. Its instincts. Its needs. Your scent, makes control harder, but you have nothing to fear.”

She rose then, that heat propelling her. Walking the short distance between them and kneeling down behind him. Her body, her breasts, pressed to his back. His powerful muscles tensed immediately and she felt a surge of power at the influence she had over him. Her hand crept around to his crotch, sliding down into his pants as she kissed up his neck to his ear.

“I am not, completely, without experience.” She whispered as her hand wrapped around his shaft, already hard. His body remained tense, the sound that came from his throat more animal than man. “The boys in my village…. well… I was known for my skill.”

Her hand moved in a slow, caressing motion. His cock hot and throbbing in her hand. Osric’s body so tense as he tried to maintain control. Her soft, teasing strokes were irresistible. “Go on, give the wolf what it needs.” Her hand moved faster and faster.

The growl almost took her by surprise. Cum spurting from his cock, splattering across her fist as she pumped him, landing on the bare earth. She kept going, her hot breath in his ear, until she felt his muscles finally relax and then, without further words, she stepped away. As she returned to her bed, she glanced at the cum drying on her hand. His scent was on her now too.

Osric remained quiet the next day, but his eyes followed her now and the tension had changed. Not gone. Different. Easier to carry. There was no repeat of that night’s events, even as the moon waxed fuller and fuller. She felt the way his eyes lingered on her now though. Could sense the thoughts he was having and they fueled her own.

As she lay, alone, at night and he sat guard, it wasn’t just her mind that wandered now. Her hand did too. To the slick heat between her legs. Stroking, circling, chasing the memory of his cock hot and hard in that same hand until she came, quiet and breathless, her teeth in her lip.

The moon, bigger and brighter now. A countdown they were both aware of but did not speak about. Would they reach Wealdstone before the wolf took full control? What would happen if they did not? Was that what she truly wanted?

When the walls finally came within sight, that last question remained unanswered.

Osric lingered in the shadow of the trees as though reluctant to fully expose himself to the sun. She took a step forward, then glanced at him, unsure. He nodded, face still guarded, but those hungry eyes instinctively roaming her body again. The wolf knew what it wanted. Her cheeks flushed.

“Thank you.” She said, licking her lips nervously. Osric just nodded again, silent as ever, then turned and vanished back into the woods.

She watched for a moment, part of her tempted to go with him and to finally experience what Illona had felt. Finally, she too turned and walked the last part of the path to Wealdstone.

Do not stop there

One more door opens

The thread keeps tighteningDark Elven Desires Part 011: The Dark Court’s ToyThe next part is waiting where this one left off.Keep going

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