The Dread Wolf
- 3 years ago
- 18
- 0
The Dread Wolf Ch. 02 free porn video
‘Shh, ma vhenan, or they will hear you.’
I hold my breath and crouch silently in the shadows of the abandoned estate house. Birds sing outside, flitting from branch to branch of the enormous trees just beyond the front gates. Winter has come upon Thedas, but it never quite seems to reach the greenwood of the Emerald Graves. This is where Solas and I have journeyed to, so that we might wait out the cold, and in the mean time we have delighted in exploring ruins both old and new.
Because of the civil war some fifteen years ago, and the unrest between mages and templars, and the terror of Corypheus, the elites of Orlais have let their princely estates fall into disrepair. Ever since the cataclysm in Haven, no one has dared to venture out into the wilds, despite the end of such strife. People are still getting over the panic of the world nearly ending, and are reticent to leave the safety of their cities, armies, and their high stone walls.
Which is all the better for me and Solas, of course.
Right at this moment, we are hiding in a musty store room, listening past a wooden door as soldiers pass through. It’s customary for them to inspect these places, to ensure that no bandits or demons or other unsavories take up residence. I suppose the irony is that the former Inquisitor and her foremost magical adviser now count among their number.
We listen carefully, measuring out breathing to make as little noise as possible. Heavy, bored boots march around the main floor now, the other rooms above having been checked and declared vacant. My heart beats harder in my chest – this is so foolhardy, and yet I love it. I know Solas does too, based on his delighted grin. We both tense when, suddenly, one of the soldiers calls out in a thick Ferelden accent ‘hey, what’s this room? You lads been in there yet?’
Does he mean our store room? Boots wander over to the door, and one of them tries the handle, finding it unlocked. Very quietly Solas and I slip behind an old, dilapidated armoire, just barely able to squeeze in between it and the wall. Dusty light filters in from the open door, and the soldier peers around the room, seeing nothing but shelves, diaphanous spider webs, old crates, and stacked chairs. I can only listen, standing in the narrow space behind the tall furniture piece, but even so Solas slips his hand over my mouth, his warm palm and fingers sealing over my lips and cheek, but leaving my nose free.
I look over at him, frowning, and he just smiles with roguish playfulness at me. The soldier eventually gives up and wanders out, closing the door behind him. ‘Just a bunch of old shit, lads.’
‘That it for this place?’
‘Aye. Time to go get some dinner, eh?’
The others cheer with tired enthusiasm, likely having been on their shift, and on their feet, since the early morning. We listen until, at last, we hear the main door to the estate close with a heavy thud.
With great relief I breath out through my nose, pushing Solas’ hand from my mouth. ‘Really. I can be just as quiet as you are,’ I gripe, slipping out from behind the armoire.
He slips out from the other side, his long, slender legs carefully stepping over a fallen roll of carpet. ‘Oh yes, I know. But feeling your nervous breath slide over my knuckles makes it far more exciting for me.’
I just give him a look as I open the door, the wan, winter sunlight glinting on my garnet eyes, before I wander back out into the main landing. We’d only just arrived before the soldiers had, so luckily they hadn’t found any signs of the habitation that is to come. They had spent quite a long time upstairs, so I can only guess that’s where the bedrooms are, and so that’s where I head to next.
Solas follows along, tipping open the cover of every book we come across to see if he’s already read it or not. Most of those inspections end in the sort of disappointment that, if we are to be honest, inflates his ego. He delights in being well-read, and what’s more, he delights in the fact that I know it. If I am in need of some obscure reference recollected, he can come up with the recitation within five minutes.
There’s a library on the west wing of the second floor, so I bid Solas adieu for what is likely to be hours. Seeing his eyes light up makes me smile, and I head towards the east wing to inspect the bed rooms. There are several, all luxuriously appointed, and all in quite good repair in comparison to the other estates we’ve seen in the last few days. Not a speck of mold or dust lingers here. The mattress is comfortable, large, and soft, and the linens smell good. I’m quite tempted to strip out of my clothes and nap until I realize that I am, in point of fact, abominably dirty.
Surely a lovely chamber such as this must have an adjacent lovely bathroom. And soon I find it, and it’s just as beautifully appointed. A large claw foot tub sits upon the tile, and I look at the faucets, biting my lip. Is the plumbing even functional still? How long ago was it abandoned? My hand reaches out, then stops before my fingers alight on the metal fixture. Will the pipes rattle and attract attention from outside? And then I reach forward that last few inches and twist. My relief is immense when hot water gushes out quietly, clean and steaming, into the ceramic basin.
With the stopper in place over the drain, I see to stripping out of my filthy travel clothes. Since Solas had quite literally pulled me back from the edge, he’d insisted that I take care of myself better, and that had included dressing myself in more comfortable clothing. The rags I’d lived in for five years have been replaced by black leather leggings, black leather boots that strap up to my knees, a black tunic in warm, soft wool, and a thinner linen shirt beneath for additional warmth. On top of all of it is a black heavy cloak with a hood – when we travel at night, I go so far as to pull up a black cloth over my nose and mouth, to keep the amount of exposed cream skin to a minimum. I have gloves too, of course, but those are currently tucked into my pocket, now that we’re inside.
These items are set aside – I will wash them all later – but first I must wash myself. My hair, which I have taken to wearing in a braid of late, definitely requires washing, and the perpetual smudged dirt that has worked itself into the creases of my knuckles tells the same story. I look over at the basin and see that it’s slowly filling, and will take a few minutes longer, and so I try to temper my impatience by taking a seat in a nearby chair to inspect my foot.
The sight isn’t good. All autumn my ankle had been swollen and sore due to a wearing of the joint. My adventures have taken a toll on my body, and my left ankle has been the first to truly protest. Now, however, either due to further marks from the damage or some inevitable degradation, my foot is starting to have trouble with circulation. While the rest of my bare skin pinks slightly with the warmth of the bathroom, my foot remains somewhat mottled and ashy white and cold to the touch. It’s going to be painful to introduce it to the hot water, when the nerves decide to wake up and complain again, despite the numbing spell Solas keeps placing on it.
There’s nothing for it, unfortunately. Solas has been tending to it as well as he can, and despite the care of his medicines and magic, we are both coming to the conclusion that something will need to be done about this foot before summer comes around, and the cold of winter can no longer slow the damage. With a sigh I ease myself up over the lip of the basin, keeping my weight on my right foot and letting my left hover by my right calf. The water sloshes just a touch around my right ankle and shin, and I slowly lower myself into the delicious, warm bath.
And I enjoy it… right up until the second my ice cold left foot and ankle sink into the water. It’s like hot blades as the flesh there thaws out, and my hands grip at the edges of the bath top
desperately. Water sloshes as I grit my teeth and writhe, until at last I can’t take it anymore and lift my foot out of the water and into the air. The skin is an ugly mix of purples and pinks, blotchy and unhealthy, and I only just realize that I’d cried out in pain when a huge, dark brown wolf crashes through the doors and skids to a stop on the tile floor.
He looks at the tub, sees my foot steaming in the air, then winces. I wince too, clearing my throat. ‘I’m sorry…’ I offer apologetically. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you.’
The wolf breathes out slowly and pads over, taking a look at my foot as I rest it on the edge of the tub, grimacing at even that light contact. ‘It’s getting worse,’ he mutters, padding closer and resting his jaw on the tub’s edge near my hand.
His sadness makes me sigh – we’re quickly nearing the time when I need to make a decision, as our options are running out. My wet, warm fingers caress along his muzzle to comfort him. I think the thought of me losing this foot and becoming crippled for life bothers him more than it does me. ‘Then we find a solution. Just like you keep telling me.’ My voice is a soft murmur, and he closes his eyes, breathing out slowly through his wet, black nose.
His tongue slides out to caress my wrist, then slips back in behind his teeth before he asks ‘aside from this… does it hurt you?’
I shake my head. ‘Only when it warms up in hot water. Other than that, your tending keeps it numb. It’s stiff all the time, though.’
He nods, then lifts his muzzle from my hands, and I lean my head back against the tub’s edge, my long hair pillowed beneath my skull. I watch him as the form of the wolf fades, and Solas reappears, fully dressed. Somehow, despite all our traveling, he always manages to keep surprisingly clean. Or maybe I’m just used to a small amount of travel dirt at this point. The tall, slender elf caresses his fingertips along the tub until they reach my hand, and his fingers lace gently within mine. ‘I’d join you, but I don’t want to risk injuring you.’
My fingers curl in his, and I flush just a little. ‘It annoys me that I don’t want to risk it either,’ I grumble, a brow arched.
His steps slowly take him around to the end of the tub where my head is resting, and he braces his palms on the edges by my shoulders, chuckling to himself. He bends at the waist, his head dipping in so that he can place warm kisses along my cheekbone and ear, and like clockwork I blush and swallow. With only that small affection my nipples are already hard pink points just above the swirling, steaming water’s surface, and when I tilt my head to offer him more of my neck, I moan softly when he takes me up on it.
I’m at the point where my hips are starting to just gently move against the smooth bottom of the tub when Solas smiles and purrs ‘well, I shall leave you to your bath.’ I watch, astonished, as he saunters lazily from the bathroom back to the bedroom. And I listen, frowning, cheeks hotly flushed, as his footsteps carry him back to the west wing and its library.
‘That… bastard,’ I huff, sinking slowly into the water until only my frowning, garnet eyes linger just above the surface.
Later that night, with my ankle and foot bandaged and Solas’ elfroot potion taking effect, I feel quite comfortable as we lounge naked in our appropriated bed together. We’ve drawn all the curtains so that the lights of the candles don’t give us away, and the illumination makes him look utterly delicious, as usual. Having been stuck in one shape with precious little privacy for so long all those years ago, now he insists on sleeping naked. He won’t hear any complaints from me – I like to sleep that way too.
The blissful, post-coital lethargy is still making my limbs feel heavy, and as I lay on my side and luxuriously read through one of the more tawdry novels I’d found in the library, Solas remains on his back, arms crossed beneath his bald head. Despite his eyes being closed, I know he’s deep in thought, given how his brows are just slightly furrowed.
I nudge a crisp, slightly yellowed page over, and glance over at him curiously. ‘How is your neck?’
One of his dark brows lifts, and he tilts his head just a little. The bite mark I’d left on his skin stretches slightly, making him smile and wince at the same time. ‘Mmm, still a touch sore.’ His stormy eyes open, still half-lidded, and he asks in turn ‘and your thigh?’
My legs shift at the question, and the smooth inner plane of my right thigh, marked by a matching bite in pink, rubs against my left, and I smile. ‘I suppose I’ll recover.’ With a snap, the book closes in my hand, and I set it on the side table, stretching long with my arms behind my head. ‘The healing will be faster if you kiss it better.’ I flutter my eyelashes at him, and he smiles almost shyly. I don’t think it had ever occurred to him before that mouths can be used down there for sex, too. For a moment I nibble on the inside of my cheek, then frown at him. ‘For someone who loved the scandal of the court, you are painfully ill-informed about carnal pleasures.’
He pouts moodily, pushing himself up to rest on an elbow. ‘Oh come, now. I’m learning, as you well know.’
Really, he’s very cute when he’s pouting. I shift closer, placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose. ‘Oh yes, you’re an excellent student,’ I whisper, sliding my hand over his smooth chest. That seems to balm his ego nicely, and he relaxes.
My fingertips explore the elegant structures of his collarbone and shoulder while my lips leave a slow trail of kisses along his cheekbone, until at last he begins ‘I have thought long about this…’
I shift back touch so that I can look into his eyes, and he continues. ‘As we have discussed, your foot and ankle need medical attention. Any surgeon can… well…’
‘Take it off?’ I offer, and while he looks slightly disgusted and offended at the thought, he nods.
‘Indeed. While any skilled surgeon can relieve you of it, it will take someone with special talents to let you keep walking without it.’
Please don’t say Morrigan. Please don’t say Vivienne.
His features take on a touch of strain, and he tentatively adds ‘we will, however, have to travel to Tevinter.’
‘Dorian!’ I haven’t thought of him in ages. Of all the people in Skyhold, I got along with him best. It might have been because we are both mages, or perhaps because we come from cultures so vastly different from Ferelden’s or Orlais’. Either way, we were perhaps as close as his predilections would allow, and I was very sorry to see him return to Tevinter a year or two after the defeat of Corypheus. ‘You’ve been in contact with him?’
Solas nods. ‘Off and on. He knows how to keep a secret, of course. He is concerned about you, and has told me that he may have an option to help you.’
For a moment I frown, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘Sending correspondence by raven is inviting Leliana to find where we are.’
His arrogant smile is an assurance all its own, and he shrugs, gesturing with his elegant hand. ‘Not a single bird has flown to carry my messages. I visit Dorian in dreams, and we have conversations.’
I blanch just a touch, murmuring ‘I can only imagine what his dreams are like.’
The elf thinks for a moment, then his eyes lift to mine. ‘They are exquisite. I can think of no better term.’
My smirk is inevitable. ‘That sounds like Dorian. Is he expecting us?’
Solas inclines his head. ‘He knows that we cannot travel in the conventional methods, but his life, at present, is, as he says ‘suffocatingly predictable’. If we knock upon the servant’s door of his estate at midnight on any night, we will be allowed in.’
‘How clandestine…’ I purr, feeling my smile grow. ‘When shall we leave?’
The elf beside me moves his hand to my shoulder and gently guides me to lie on my back, smiling devilishly. ‘Tomorrow morning, before dawn…’ Hi
s head dips, and I sigh softly as his lips kiss along my pointed ear, his sultry voice murmuring ‘…but let’s put this fine bed through its paces at least one more time.’
To say that I often have the Dread Wolf between my legs would be an understatement. A huge percentage of those instances, of course, are platonic in nature – because of the limits on my mobility these days, I sit astride the large wolf’s back, letting him carry us across Thedas as we now wander north towards Tevinter.
His tireless, loping stride carries us for miles and miles every day, up north through the Dales, around the Waking Sea, through Nevarra, and then across the border into Tevinter itself. Despite having lived in a time when travel through the eluvians was common place, I get the feeling that Solas prefers to travel on foot, and that he enjoys the journey possibly more than the destinations he selects.
Our destination this time is Minrathous, the city of Dorian’s birth. Solas and I avoid the Imperial Highway, keeping to the fields, forests, and foothills of the the High Reaches to maintain our privacy. The weather here is more temperate, and I have set aside my woolen cloak in favor of a black linen hood to hide my features from those who might remember the look of the former Inquisitor. At a certain point a large wolf is going to be entirely too noticeable, so Solas and I proceed on two feet each, at last joining the highway just before it flows into the city itself. We have procured a staff for my use as a cane. In a land ruled by mages, having a staff in hand might come in handy.
We have taken measures to avoid looking Dalish – city elves are tolerated in Tevinter, but the more wild varieties, as we’re called, are said to receive quite a hard time, even now. Solas has, at long last, abandoned his pelts and wools for tailored linens and leathers in blacks and grays, and a long cloak all in black. That neither Solas nor I bear a Vallaslin helps in this endeavor, though I will always question the wisdom of having had him remove mine.
Our sojourn on the highway is far from lonely. Countless lines of carriages flow in, heaped high with goods, while empty carts are drawn out. With our hoods drawn up, we glance to the left and right at all times to avoid getting out feet crushed by hooves or wheels – truly, there is very little room as we pass through the main gates of the city. Once inside, however, the roads widen considerably, and the traffic seems to naturally flow into a predetermined order. Raised walkways are provided for pedestrians, and Solas and I take to these.
We have a few hours to kill, despite the sun having set long since, and so we meander through the city. In all my years as Inquisitor I had never visited this place. I’ve been within the borders of Tevinter for diplomatic missions, but I had never thought to visit this city, perched so opulently on the tip of the peninsula, like a drop of dew on a flower petal. Like Qarinus, Minrathous is constructed of imposing, angular stonework, metal edges, and dragon motifs.
Unlike Qarinus, however, Minrathous has far more pleasure houses.
Somehow I convince Solas to explore one with me, and I find that, rather than some discrete brothel like one might find in Ferelden, this establishment is large and caters to almost all fleshly pleasures, not the least of which being food and drink. We dine at a table in a private, shadowy alcove where we can look upon the many stages and see both men and women dancing in nothing but silks to unobtrusive, beautiful music. The wine helps me relax, as it must do with Solas, because we soon find ourselves kissing, our hands wandering in plain view of our empty plates and glasses.
I’m bemused but not surprised that upstairs there are gorgeous, well-appointed salons to be rented by the hour, and we select a more modest one. Our coin, thanks to our forays in the wild, is plentiful, but even so we don’t need something outrageous. When we turn the key in the lock and open the door to our moonlit room, we are greeted with the sight of a bed in the center and beautifully wrought iron cencers hanging from the ceiling at the four corners, lazily leaking purple and blue smoke that smells of flowers and spices. Blue moonlight pours in through the large window opposite the door, and all the other details are lost to the shadows.
Latisha
- 10.11.2022
- 9
- 0
