This story is dedicated to Manda-chan. Thanks for enriching the community with your wonderful writing! Hope you don't mind that I "borrowed" your idea to bookend this story.

"Fakir? I was thinking… I know it hasn't quite been a week, but don't you think…?"

Blue eyes set upon the storywriter, the girl clutches a quilt around her slender body.

"Don't I think what? Don't tell me…"

"But it's Scary out there! I need something to help me ignore the thunder."

"…You're such a little girl sometimes. Fine, I've had one saved up for a night like this, but I wasn't going to tell it just yet. You know Red Riding Hood, right?

She half-smiles and looks downward at the moonlit bed sheets between them. She draws a bit closer to him.

"Ooh, I like this one! I love werewolf stories. I've heard it a hundred times, but each time I do, it never seems right to me. Like they're telling the story all wrong- Like trying to make something really scary into something for kids. I bet your version is the best."

"Let's hope so… Now close your eyes, and I'll start at the next thunderclap."

Lightning flashes, and for a brief moment every tiny detail is exposed in perfect clarity. Every leaf in the enormous and ancient trees. Every raindrop suspended in the air. Every blade of grass on either side of the solemn dirt pathway. Then it's black again, nearly as black as pitch- tumultuous clouds have doused out the full moon, and her lamp is useless in this horrid downpour. She is forced to continue, having come halfway down the trail already. The charge of delivering a basket of goods to her grandmother is long forgotten; the thing is sodden to the very bottom, and she only continues to hold it for fear of having nothing to grip. Her knuckles are bone white around the wicker handle.

She gathers her resolve, swallows- but as soon as she begins to take a step, a crash of thunder rips through her, rattling her very bones, and freezes her legs again. She wants to cry, wants to curl up into a ball and disappear. Wants to escape from this horrible place, but the fact is the only way out is by putting one foot in front of the other until she reaches that tiny shack at the forest's center.

A golden pair of eyes observe her from behind the gnarled bark of a mighty tree. They are not the eyes of a man, nor any boughborne owl. They're narrow, focused, and blink seldom. The girl has begun to move again, and it is a beautiful thing to see. Her pale skin practically glows; the thin material of her dress soaked through, clinging to her and exposing every nuance of her young body. Her long crimson traveler's cloak is battered by rainfall but whips a ghostlike trail behind her. Her heavy breaths make silvery clouds in the cold night, vanishing almost too quickly to see in the driving deluge, but they speak of great fire inside this girl, to match her long braided hair, to match her cloak and hood.

The girl gathers the material around her shoulders, draws it tight, and shudders at the new chill about her neck. She'll be there soon, so soon- she can practically see the cottage now, and there will be a warm fire and a cauldron of stew all ready for her. She can cast off these wretched clothes and dry herself by the cheery flames. She can share a cup of tea with her dear grandmother and laugh about the basket of soiled goods- all save a jar of spiced fruits that even this rain couldn't ruin. The pleasant thoughts drive her onwards, and before too terribly long a pinprick of orange light appears through the branches, and grows more inviting with each step. She smiles and calls out "Grandmother! I've arrived at last!"

There's no answer. She lets herself in- the storm must just be too loud for her Grandma hear her call. She pokes her head in and casts her blue eyes around, but she observes no movement save the flickering fire. "Grandmother? It's me, Ahiru…" She calls softly, wondering if the kindly old woman is asleep. She unlocks the door, steps inside, slides the heavy lock back across, and immediately begins to undress.

She hangs up her riding cloak, which must weigh 2 stone with all the rainwater it's absorbed, and then begins on the subsequent layers. She casts aside her jacket, fumbles with her dress' hooks and loops. It takes dexterity to remove by herself, but she manages. She slips out of her petticoat, which leaves a sizable puddle on the floor under its hanging hook, leaving her only in her damp underclothes- a simple eggshell-colored corset and linen bloomers. She reaches to unfasten the restrictive garment-

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

She freezes as fear grips her completely. That was not a human sound in the least, and it seemed to have come from inside the house. The flickering light of the fireplace around the corner from her presents no clues- standing in the entranceway she can only see what lies before the fire- a table, two chairs. Shadows of the wooden furniture are superimposed on the far wall, much larger than their actual size, and they ripple with the undulation of the flames. She shakes her head, body icily cold but mind determined. She steps into the room.

A fire crackles in the fireplace; this she knew already. The bed to the side is made, empty. The table- there's a note on it! She grabs at it with a damp hand, her chilled fingers fumbling with the parchment.

I've had to run into town on an important errand. I did so look forward to spending the evening together, but I fear I'll not return until morning- It looks like there may be a storm tonight. Hopefully my foolish daughter, your mother, won't send you after all, but then if you're reading this, I suppose she did. I left enough wood for you to start a fire. Please, don't worry for my sake- try to have a pleasant evening. With love, your grandmother.

Her blue eyes go wide. I left enough wood for you to start a fire. But the fire was going already-

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She whips around to face the door. For a split second she's sure it's her grandmother, but then she remembers- I'll not return until morning. She looks from the fire- finally beginning to warm her inadequately-clothed body- to the door further down the entranceway, past her soaked clothing. She doesn't move.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Help! I'm stranded and I beg your assistance! Help me, please!" It's the voice of a young man. A modicum of her apprehension is relieved- there are many worse things it could be, and it would be nice not to be alone- but then, to be alone with a young man in the center of the woods could present all manner of unforeseen dangers…

"Please! I beg only a piece of bread and I'll be on my way! I'm so hungry…" The voice trails off, but the need in the young voice forces Ahiru to action. She crosses the room to the door, and unbolts the latch. With a swallow, she opens it.

She is relieved immediately to see the voice did indeed come from a young man; a very harmless-looking young man (But not without his charms). Wearing only simple clothing, the poor boy is shivering and rainwater is dripping from his long untidy hair. "Come in, traveler- I was in your position myself until only moments ago."

The young man looks at her for a moment, then casts his gaze at the ground. He mumbles, "Many thanks, miss, but it seems I have intruded upon your hospitality at an… inopportune moment."

She suddenly realizes she's still barely dressed, and what little she's wearing is adhering to her like a second skin anyway. She blushes furiously, which causes him to blush, which she notes… is actually very cute. For some reason her instincts tell her she has nothing to fear from this boy. He's dark-skinned, with hair darker yet. It falls to his shoulders, longest strands stuck to the shoulders of his tan shirt. He's taller than her, but not too much, thin but not skinny, handsome but not intimidating. He looks like someone she can trust.

"Never mind that. I'm sure you will be well behaved, as I expect you'll want to take off those sodden clothes yourself. I've been through much more compromising positions myself tonight- I had to make it though that rain all the way from the village. Now come inside before you shiver yourself to death!"

She walks back to the main room and sits in front of the fire, atop a pillow she draws from the bed. Warming her hands, she glances down the entryway in time to see the young man removing his shirt- and what a sight! As he lifts the thing barely recognizable as a garment over his head, she can't help but gawk at his muscular body- a reddish tinge stains her cheeks. She ducks her head back before he notices her watching him, and sits down in front of the fireplace. A moment later, he arrives from the entranceway, naked save a pair of soggy shorts. A nervous half-smile on his face, he says "I'm awfully sorry about this…" He crosses the room behind her to the bed, gestures at it, and asks "Would it be alright if we…?"

Ahiru's face turns the same color as her riding cloak. "We… We… In the bed? Now?" She stammers, holding her knees to her chest.

Then the boy realizes what he's just said and waves his hands, turning a shade to match hers. "No, I mean, can I have a quilt, and maybe, you could too- I'm just…"

He stops, drops his hands. "I'm not used to seeing ladies like you… in their underthings… My mother was taken from me when I was young and I have no sisters, or a wife for that matter. I'm a bit embarrassed." His eyelids droop.

The girl looks up at him, her deep blue eyes meeting his golden ones. For a moment the strangers share a glance. Then they both look away, and Ahiru quietly thanks the boy for the quilt he hands her. She wraps it around herself. He sits next to her on the ground in front of the glowing flames.

"I'm Fakir. I live in the woods too."

"Oh, I don't live here; I'm from the village nearby. This is my grandmother's house."

"Oh, I see. So where's your grandmother?"

"I suppose she went to run a few errands and had to stay in town due to the storm- I come here every month but this is the first time she's been away. Hopefully she's nice and warm at the inn, drinking a mug of cider and entertaining everyone with her stories. She has the most wonderful stories… She knew I was coming because it's a full moon, and I always travel on the full moon. It's easier to see."

The boy's expression changes at this, but it's hard to read. Something like understanding but a bit reticent as well- like it's a truth he doesn't want to accept. "But you can't see the moon tonight. It's far too dark out there. You know, I think I've seen your grandmother before, on one of my walks. I'm always running from one place to another."

Ahiru brightens at this. "Really? I suppose if you live in the woods you must have seen her… She's always up to something!" The girl chuckles. "Hey, you said you were hungry, right? I have these spiced peaches- let's open the jar. I've scarcely eaten since this morning."

"That would be wonderful. Please, allow me." He takes the jar from the table, removes the string around the lid from its waxy seal, and removes the lid with a satisfying pop. He sniffs the golden fruit inside, and a broad smile appears on his dark face. "I didn't know these would be spiced spiced peaches…" he chuckles.

"Whatever do you mean by that?" Asks the girl.

"Well, aside from honey, there's a sizable amount of rum in this preserves. Have you ever had rum before?"

"Well, no, my family doesn't typically afford ourselves such luxuries- though come to think of it, my mother does keep a bottle for baking… and special occasions. It's strange, now that I think on it, since I work as a barmaid… I wonder, could it be that the peaches I bring for grandmother are always this way?"

"No way to know, but for now, let's just dig in!" And with that, he takes a yellowy peach wedge with his fingers and gulps it down in one bite. "Hoo! That's sure sweet… packs a bit of a punch too! I wonder if you'll be able to handle it. Then again, with hair like that, you're Irish, aren't you? I'm sure you'll be fine."

"I'm German, and if you'll kindly pass that jar over here, I'll show you what kind of stuff I'm made of! Anyone in my family could drink an Irishman under the table in no time flat." She withdraws a peach, takes a large bite, then freezes. She chews once. Her eyes go wide, her nostrils flare, and her already red faces deepens in shade. She chews a bit more, then gives an exaggerated swallow, and sighs dramatically. "…Wow." She states, then chomps down the rest of the peach wedge. Fakir looks on in amusement, enjoying the sight of the innocent girl having what must certainly be her first experience with alcohol.

But the sight goes from humorous to something else immediately when she begins to lick the sticky liquid off her fingers. Her dark pink tongue surreptitiously cleans off each of her digits, and then for good measure she sucks them clean. She has no idea the show she's putting on for the tormented boy, fortunate to be completely swaddled in his large quilt, because the effect is noticeable to say the least. She's young, late teens probably, and still in the process of growing into a woman- her charm is girlish and cute. Her red hair flows all the way down her back, and her body is pale and slender, dusted with freckles. She's not exactly bursting out of her corset, and not exactly straining the seat of her simple underwear, but a couple of years could see that change. She comes off as appealingly innocent and pleasant, and her demeanor only reinforces this impression. "So what do you think? Convinced yet?"

"Not quite; we're going to have to make this a game. You said your grandmother told stories right? Well I happen to enjoy storytelling myself. Usually this game is played with swigs or shots, but since all we have is peaches, peaches it shall be."

"OK…" replies the blushing girl nervously. "How do you play?" She scoots a bit closer to the boy, her sense of convention already becoming blurred. In her mind the scale is tipping away from He's a stranger to He's wonderful!

Fakir clears his throat and glances at her. The curiosity from her bright blue eyes drill into him with an almost tangible intensity. He looks away, trying to ignore the sudden swelling in his chest. "Well, you take a peach, and I take a peach, and I start to tell a story. At the end of every sentence, you try to guess the last word, and if you get it right I have to take a bite, and if you get it wrong, you do. I promise I won't make up words that don't make sense, so it's possible for you to win. Sounds good?

Ahiru's response is an enthusiastic nod. "Good, then let's begin.

"Once upon a…"

"Time!" the redhead finishes. "That's too easy."

"I know, I just wanted another peach. It'll get harder.

"Once upon a time there was a young man. He wasn't too tall, or too handsome, and he wasn't a prince at all- In fact, he was an…"

"Explorer!" The girl's expression was rapt after only one line.

"Afraid not." Says the storyteller, nudging the jar towards her. "Eat up. He was an orphan, with no home to call his own. He spent his days wandering from village to village, entertaining the townsfolk with his…"

"Dances? Music? Magic show?"

"You only get one guess, and those are all wrong! You should eat three."

"You can't make me!" retorts the girl, sticking out her tongue and scooping out another peach with three fingers.

"Never mind. Anyway, he spent his days entertaining the townsfolk with his stories! But since people didn't usually stay long enough by whatever upturned crate or barrel he could scrounge to enjoy an entire tale- the poor boy seldom made more than a few pennies a day. He continued in this manner, destitute, until one day he had an…"

"Ooh! Idea!" Quipped the girl, raising an index finger swathed in honey preserves.

"Very good." Replied Fakir, taking a peach and downing it in one. "He spent just about all the money he'd accumulated to that point and bought a quill, made of an osprey feather, and began to write the stories down on paper, allowing the ink to flow right from his mind to the page. That night he wrote from sundown to sunup, and in the morning he collapsed from exhaustion on a masterpiece of adventure, drama, and…"

"Love." She said, quietly, looking down. Her face had evened out into a medium shade of pink, but at this word the shade deepened again.

"I was thinking romance, but I'll give it to you." He takes another piece of the golden fruit from the rapidly-emptying jar and takes a small bite- his stomach is starting to complain a bit about the food/alcohol ratio. "With his masterpiece in hand, he headed to a bookbinder's, and requested the man bind in it advance for a return later, claiming the book is a guaranteed best-seller. His offer was refused immediately by the shopkeeper. Downtrodden, parchment under one arm, he proceeded to wander from town to town, assured of his accomplishment and determined not to give up until someone would accept his proposal. But one balmy afternoon, as he was wandering along a long country road, he was set upon by highwaymen know in the area to be completely..."

"Merciless!" Ahiru practically shouts. Her small white hands are gripping the blanket firmly, and her expression betrays genuine concern. He takes a peach- the jar is quickly becoming empty.

"Hmm. you're not bad at this. Yes, they're merciless killers to the man, and well armed too. The orphan knew when they realized he had no money or valuables, they'd surely kill him just to grow their legend, and as they were mounted and he was on foot, he had no chance of escape. He decided he'd only have one chance to survive the tragic encounter. Without a hint of fear in his dark eyes, he asked the leader if they liked stories.

"'Stories!' Replied the leader in a disbelieving tone. 'What use we got for those?'

"'Well as I have no money to offer for my life, and my death isn't worth the rust on your blades, I simply think I could spend the afternoon entertaining you and in return you can not kill me.' the boy replied, even tone concealing his terror.

"'Well now!' the leader replied. 'Now that I think on it, I suppose we could do with a story, eh, men? But you better hope we like it, or you'll be picking pieces of yourself up off the road for miles.'

"'I certainly will do my best.' The boy says, and then begins his masterpiece."

Fakir looks at the sole member of his audience. The fire's died down to embers and the room is mostly dark. The quilt is falling from her shoulders, exposing her freckled shoulders and the straps of her corset. The expression on her youthful, pretty face has gradually been becoming serious. "Do you want me to go on? I hope I'm not boring you."

"Let me ask you a question. I promise I'm not- Well maybe I'm a little drunk. But this is serious."

"Uh, very well- Ask me anything."

"Were you in this cabin at all before I arrived?"

Fakir is stunned into silence. "What? Why would you ask that? Of course not, I've never been here before in my life!"

"But the fire! And you got here right after me… I thought it was a little weird, but when you were talking about killers, everything added up. I don't know if I can trust you, even if you are…" She trailed off. "Even if you don't look like a villain."

The young man stands up, blanket falling around his legs. "I need to know what you're talking about. What was out of place that would make you think someone was here before?"

The girl stands up too, then sways slightly as the full effect of the alcohol hits her. "Read the note on the table- The fire was going when I got here. There's no way Grandma could have started it- someone else must have."

He picks the note up off the table and reads it, dark eyes scanning intently. "Why didn't you mention this sooner? Anyone could be out there and we've been getting drunk and telling stories! Where's the kitchen?"

"What? I already said there's no food…"

"It's not food I'm after, it's a knife. Now you take this poker…" He hands her the implement from beside the dim embers, "… And I'm going to find something that can do some damage." He disappears into the kitchen, leaving the girl alone clutching the warm iron shaft, casting nervous glances around the dark room.

Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

"Aaaaaaaaaiiiieeee!" Screams the girl, terrified and alone in the dark, not able to discern where the sound came from. Fakir tears back into the room.

"What? What was it?"

Between sobs and hiccups, the girl gasps "It's scraping- I heard it earlier before you came in, I don't know what it is-!"

"Ok, stay there. I'm going to walk around the house and try to find out what-"

BANG. BANG. BANG. Loud knocks come from the door and with them a booming voice. "OPEN UP, LITTLE GIRL… I KNOW YOU'RE ALONE IN THERE. I'M COMING IN WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT."

"Oh god oh god oh god…" The terrified redhead buries her face in her hands and crouches into a ball. But before Fakir can say anything, she stands up straight and shouts right back, loud enough to be heard over the wind and the driving rain, "Whoever you are, leave me alone! I have nothing to offer you, not even a story. Be gone from this place, and don't darken my door any longer!"

A deep laugh rumbles the room as though from all sides at once. "HUH HUH HUH. YOU MISUNDERSTAND, GIRL. IT'S NOT GOLD I'M AFTER. IT'S THE FLESH OFF YOUR BONES…"

All the blood leaves Ahiru's face, and she turns to Fakir. "Fakir? I tried to be strong. You heard, right? I'm not going to die a coward though. Right?"


"What?" She asks, clearly holding back a waterfall of tears. "But…"

"You're not going to die at all. There's something I didn't tell you, too… About me." The boy turns away from her. "That thing out there. The vicious bloodthirsty creature that wants to kill and eat you."

The girl lets out a choking sound. "...Yes?"

"I'm one too." And with that, the boy begins to change. In the dim glow of the embers, Duck can barely make out transformations occurring to every part of the young man- He grows over a foot, thick dark fur covers his body, his legs seem to reverse their joints. His already muscular frame expands in mass, and he hunches forward, posture crouched and focused. When the horrible transformation is over, he turns to face her, wolflike face full of reticence, and gazes at the floor. "I'm going to make sure nothing happens to you." His voice is low and even, much more human than monster. "I'm sorry for keeping what I am a secret. Please- Don't hate me for this." And with that, he heads for the door, leaving Ahiru alone.

She sinks to her knees, overwhelmed by fear, relief, confusion. She chokes back a sob, resolving not to cry. Is this real? A handful of spiked fruit can't really have this kind of effect, can it? Are there really two monsters outside of her grandmother's cabin, battling for her life? Is she really safe if Fakir wins?

She hears muffles talking outside, but over the loud rainfall she can't discern any of it. Words become growls, then snarls. Vicious strikes and grunts and interspersed with claps of thunder, and the ever-present rainfall. The terrible noises are made worse from not knowing who is winning. Finally she hears the unmistakable sound of bone snapping, accompanied by a whine and slumping against one of the cabin's walls. Then it's quiet again save the noise of droplets on her window.


Without realizing what she's doing, she goes to the door and opens it, then throws herself into Fakir's arms. His fur is slick with rainwater and blood, but she doesn't care about that at all. She hugs him tightly, only reaching his waist, burying her head in his chest. With reluctance, he places a massive hand on her back. "It's alright. There's no danger anymore. It's over."

Suddenly she backs away from him, and begins punching at him with weak blows, tears indistinguishable from raindrops streaking her face. "I was so scared! What if you had gotten hurt! Why'd you have to do that?" The ineffectual blows slow and then stop and she just stands in front of him, rain soaking her clothes again. One last sob escapes her as she gazes into his eyes, brilliant blue meeting glowing gold.

"Ahiru. I'm a werewolf. I spend my life running from this fact, and the only way I can do that is to remember how to be a man and not let the monster take over."

"Oh, Fakir-" Ahiru gasps, voice returning to normal. "You have nothing to worry about. You're the farthest thing from a monster there is. You're a hero." She grabs his mighty paw in both hands and pulls him inside, out of the rain. Both of them are soaked through again, but Fakir's dark coat protects him and the girl doesn't seem to feel the cold anyway, despite gooseflesh on both of her pale arms. She hugs him again, drawing him to her, cheek on the the fur at his chest and arms around his brawny waist. He puts his arms around her too, enjoying the feeling of the small girl so close to him.

He wasn't sure he was going to win that fight. The other gold-eyed werewolf was larger than him, and showed signs of surviving duels with even bigger wolves yet. But he wasn't smart like Fakir was, and the battle was decided by wits when the young wolf used his adversary's size against him and found his neck with a lightning-fast strike. If it had come down to trading blows like bigger wolves liked to do, he wouldn't have lasted long. He had saved the girl's life, and lived to write another day- Even through the pain in his bestial body, he couldn't help but feel a little proud.

Reluctantly, though, he separates from the girl and says, "Ahiru. I need to change back- I can't stay like this for long unless the moon is out. Please… Don't watch." He walks deeper into the dark room until she can't see him anymore.

Respectfully, the girl turns away, and busies herself stoking the fire with another log. The range of emotions traveling through her are too much to even sort through- anxiety, fear, panic, admiration, relief- the manual task grounds her slightly. After a minute the young man's voice calls out, "Ahiru? I'm done." As the room gets brighter with the growing flame, Fakir emerges, body slick with perspiration and rainwater, all sinewy muscle and scars, naked head to toe. Ahiru is past the point of blushing, drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and the two meet in front of the fireplace. She puts her thin arms around him, and presses herself to his body, cool lips meeting his in a kiss that seems to last forever, the warmth of his tongue seeming to burn her but she never wants it to end.

When at last she breaks away, she whispers "You saved my life." And then dives towards him again to kiss his cheek. "Now I want to show my appreciation. I'm not as innocent as I might look, you know." She kisses his jaw, whispers in his ear. "Just because I've never done it doesn't mean I don't know what to do." And with a warm lick along the rim of his ear, she begins to descend.

Trailing kisses along his neck, collar and chest, she reaches down and takes him into her hand, giggling slightly as she feels him twitch. She continues to attend to his muscular chest as she begins to play with his warm, flaccid shaft, slowly becoming larger and firmer in her grasp. She's looking up at him, and his gold eyes are locked in her royal blue gaze as she languidly strokes him up and down. It's already big to begin with, and as his shivering quickens and his breathing becomes husky and sparse, she feels the shaft become rigid. She breaks away from his eyes to look downward and a gasp escapes her lips. "…Oh my god, Fakir…"

He chuckles, almost apologetically, and savors the image as the redhead confronts his large erection, a determined look on her young features. Her expression tells of great concern, and it's was the cutest thing he's ever seen.

"Ahiru… You can stop. You don't have to do this." The young man tells her, hoping against hope she'll ignore him. Nonetheless, forcing himself upon her is what the beast would want, and thus he must do the opposite for the sake of his humanity.

"Stop? Not in a million years…" The redhead replies, and wraps a small chilly hand around the base of his shaft, lowering to meet Fakir's cock head-on. She places a kiss on the shaft, and nuzzles the whole thing with her blushing cheek, then looks up at Fakir with such adorable expression he can't help but whimper at the feelings she's giving him. "Ahiru- I can't wait any more- h-hurry and…"

"Not yet, doggy. Beg." She smirks at him victoriously and removes her hand from his member.

"Oh you unbelievable bitch!" He grunts, and Ahiru's response is a girlish giggle.

"Didn't sound like begging to me!" and she sits on the ground and crosses her arms, gazing at Fakir's erection with a catlike grin. The moist linen of her bloomers is splayed against her hips and upper thighs, ribbons around the legs clinging to her pale flesh. Her small bosom rises and sinks within her cream-colored corset, tempting him and arousing him to a painful degree. Damn her games- she's so erotic he wants nothing more to tackle her and have his way right then and there. "Don't even think about touching yourself, either- I bite."

"This is the thanks I get for saving your life?" Asks the young man, bracing himself against the table, his erection lewdly pointing at the girl.

"Hmm… When you put it like that…Maybe I have been selfish." She concedes, and takes hold of him again, stroking evenly and lowering her face to the massive cock. One of her petite hands can barely fit around the thing's girth. She kisses the crown, caressing his length, then begins to lick at him in earnest, short laves then longer and longer. Fakir moans in ecstasy, growls like an animal, clenches his jaw. His golden eyes shut tight. Ahiru's little tongue explores every inch, and when the entire length is swathed in slick moisture, she resumes stroking with her hands. "Oh, god, Ahiru- Where did you—Aaaahhh…" Unable to complete his sentence, Fakir exhales huskily and resumes his moans.

"You overhear a lot when you work as a barmaid- I've fantasized plenty but you're the first man I've done this to. Needless to say, you blow all my fantasies away." And with that, she takes his huge head into her small mouth, continuing to stroke along his shaft. She sinks a couple inches down on him before she had to pull off and catch her breath. "This is never gonna work…" She mumbles. "You're so big…"

"Hrm." Fakir chuckles, clearly not upset. "Being a werewolf does have its advantages… but what you're doing feels so good, I don't even care. I'm so close… You're amazing."

"Close, huh? Let's see about that." And she lowers her hot mouth onto him again, this time lightly grasping his sack and playing with it in her hand. She strokes along the moist shaft and squeezes here and there, and before long a rushing feeling strikes Fakir.

"Oh Ahiru- I'm gonna- gonna cum- Aaahgh!" With both hands wrapped around his cock and the head in her mouth, her eyes go wide as the first shot of salty cum hits the back of her throat, followed by several more. She breaks away from him and coughs, milky semen spilling from her mouth and tongue and pooling on her corset, as shot after shot splashes on her forehead, her hair, her nose and chin. She weakly holds onto him until his orgasm ceases, leaving her drenched in the sticky white stuff.

"I can't believe it- So much…" She wipes a bit of it off the bridge of her nose.

"Should have warned you, I guess-" He pants through heavy post-orgasmic breaths. "Another thing I have in common with my alter ego. Wolves have…" but he trails off at the sight of the redhead licking his cum off her fingers, then proceeding to clean herself off the same way- scooping up a bit of it and licking it off, until she's clean for the most part.

"You're pretty tasty, you know that? But you made a big mess. Take off my clothes." She stands up and steps towards him, taking a single thin finger and drawing it along the bottom of the boy's unceasingly-hard cock, reaching the tip and collecting a lingering drop of his warm essence. She brings the pearly drop to her lips and licks it off, sucking her fingertip luxuriantly. Her royal blue eyes, half-lidded and misty with lust, fix Fakir in their gaze again. As she laves at her fingertip sensuously, her other hand reaches down to her bloomers and presses the loose material tight against her desirous folds.

The wolf-boy gawks at her, heavy heartbeat visible in his neck, panting with want. He lunges at her, massive arms around her in an instant, hooks his fingers in the lacework of her corset, and with a bestial roar rips the eggshell-white garment from its binding. Shreds of it go flying, and the piece falls away from the girl's thin torso and lands on the floor with a thonk. If his orgasm slowed him down in the slightest, he shows no signs of it. She stares at him, excited beyond all reason when she has every reason to be terrified.

For a brief second he draws back, casting his gaze down her long, thin body at her pink freckled shoulders, skin drawn tight over her collarbones and each breath lifting and lowering her small but perfectly-shaped breasts, each topped with a cherry-pink nipple, stiff and ready to be attended to. The curved lines of her ribs are also dusted with freckles, and her narrow stomach is pale as snow, lightly-defined musculature expanding and contracting with the effort of breathing. The ridges of her hipbones protrude slightly, casting shadows between her lower belly and the waistband of her sole remaining garment, laced in place with a red ribbon. Her arms form a V, lifting her shoulders and breasts, as her hands clasp together before her hips.

Then the moment is past, and the boy's insatiable hands grasp her smooth breasts, squeezing lightly as he presses his body into hers, taking her mouth roughly. She staggers back, not daring to break the kiss, arms finding a resting place on the small of his back. His erection grinds into her belly, burning hot and hard as steel, evoking such desire as she hadn't know she was capable. His calloused hands send shocks through her virgin flesh that muddle her brain and dim every sense but all-consuming feeling. She moans into his mouth, whines pleadingly, sets her fingers to squeezing- his back, fistfuls of long dark hair, his firm rear end. He bodily lifts her and places her on the bed, where she's splayed out like a ritual offering. Rivulets of long red hair spill off the side. The sheets are warm under her and the fire has heated the air in the room enough that a light perspiration adorns her forehead and neck.

He dives on her tongue-first, licking and kissing along her neck and jaw, and the warm, wet feeling heightens her arousal even further. She writhes under his masculine form, unable to keep still, fire within her burning too hotly. As he reaches her ear, his ministrations cease, and with a long extol of breath, he whispers, "Just for tonight, I'm going to be an animal. Just for you, I'm going to let what's wild in me loose." Duck's response is a staggered exhalation of hot breath, as she reaches blindly to find anything to hold onto to keep from floating away.

Fakir descends on her with his mouth and confident hands, cupping her breasts and tracing the line down her belly with his tongue, pinching and pulling until the swollen buds are firm and sore with arousal. He licks at one, and his fingertips trace her ribs. She squeaks, face conveying a need beyond anything human, eyes lidded and mouth agape. With a deliberate swipe of his tongue, he catches the tender peak and gazes up to meet her eyes with his, enjoying her ecstatic expression, then resumes his work. He closes his lips around the aching nipple and pulls upwards garnering a squeal, legs crushing together around him, hands desperately clawing. "Don't tell me you're going to come just from having your breasts played with…"

"Fakir… It feels so amazing… no one's ever touched me there before and they get so sensitive…"

A devious smile crosses his lips. "Perfect! Not every girl is as lucky as you…" and he descends again, begins sucking in earnest on one, and tweaking the other between his thumb and forefinger, tugging just enough to raise her breast and draw her head from the sheets.

"Oh, god! I… Aaahh! I feel- Fakiiiiiirrrr!" She convulses, legs around his body almost crushing him, fingernails clawing at his strong back. Droplets of sweat run down the spent girl's forehead and her mouth gapes open, hot breath escaping in volume.

"We're just getting started." The werewolf boy traces a trail of kisses down her smooth, pale belly, past her hips, to her most intimate spot. Her inner folds are slightly exposed, rosy bud protruding from its hood, eager for the same treatment her chest received. Fakir is too happy to oblige. He strokes along her inner thighs with his hands, unable to resist touching every inch of her creamy skin, hot breaths on the tender flesh causing a whine to escape the girl's other lips.

"Please… I want it… Don't play with me…"

"Who's begging now?" He chuckles, and sets to work. With even-tempo licks up and down he laps up her sweet juices, reveling in the flavor of her waifish body. He pays extra attention to her tiny clit, coaxing it to full attention, every now and then giving it the gentlest of sucks. He draws his lips across it, flicks it with his tongue, simply blows on it. Each kind of attention receives a different ovation from his redheaded victim- an 'oh!' here, a 'god, yes' there- and before long, her entire vocabulary is reduced to a mewl of longing, begging desire. Fakir increases his speed and intensity gradually until the shaking of her limbs and the yanking of fistfuls of his hair in her hands is too much and he latches onto her clit, swirling his tongue with such force her orgasm arches her back a foot or more off the bed, beads of sweat flying into the air, the cry escaping her mouth drowning out the rain outside.

Breasts heaving and mouth agape, she just looks at Fakir, unable to say a word. He just smiles at her. "You don't have to say anything." He leans over her and kisses her again, slowly, passionately. In between the flavors of his mouth she can detect a new sweetness- her own essence- and Ahiru reels at the sensation as his hands find her breasts once more. "Are you ready?" He asks, and she realizes what he means when she looks up at him, on knees before her on the bed, erection rampant and throbbing. The look in his gold eyes…

"I don't know… That thing is huge! I'm kinda small- is it really gonna fit?"

"If you're as ready for this as I am, yes. Try to relax, I'll go slowly until you're ready. If it hurts, tell me and I'll stop." He guides the head to her soaking entrance. As the tip makes contact with her moist, pink folds, she gasps.

"Fakiiiiirrr… I'm scared."

"There's no need to be scared. You're the bravest girl I've ever met." He pushes inside her, just a slightest bit. She squeaks, bunches of sheets gathered in her fists, and when he notices this he reaches down and takes her hands in his, intertwining fingers. "You're doing great."

"It's so… It's so hot and… It feels good…" The feeling of him inside her is beyond words- like something that's been missing from her finally returned, like if the joy of finding a lost valuable possession could be experienced physically. Complete.

He pushes further and further inside her, bit by bit, until her reaches a barrier that causes the girl to gasp in pain. "Ah! Fakir, please, do it quick…"

He nods, a suddenly-determined look on his face, momentarily forgetting the pleasure of her body and concentrating on claiming her virginity in the least painful way possible. He pulls back just enough to gather momentum and in one thrust, shatters the girl's maidenhead, and immediately freezes, guiltily aware any motion within will cause the girl pain he can't share with her or protect her from. She barely even squeaks at the pain, but floes of shining tears escape her wide-open blue eyes. He leans forward carefully, strokes her cheek, wipes her tears away and shushes her as she whines and gasps at the sudden sensation of blazing heat and fullness inside of her. "It's ok, Ahiru. You're so strong. You're so brave." His reassuring coos and his hand squeezing hers draw a huge smile to her lips.

"I'm going to move now. Are you ready?"

"Yes." And upon hearing this, Fakir draws his length out from within her, length slick with her warm juices, until only the head remains in. He leans down over her again, draws her lithe, pale legs into his arms, draws her head up for another deep kiss, and begins to slide into her again. As he buries inch after inch of his thick member in her waiting folds, the she moans into his mouth even as her tongue explores it. He begins to thrust in a slow tempo, rolling his muscular abdomen to bury himself in her over and over. With a pleasured moan, she flops back, a silver thread of saliva still hanging between their lips, and closes her eyes. "Oh, god, Fakir… Aahhh… Don't stop…"

"Not on your life." His pace intensifies, thrusting deep inside her young body with each stroke. He pushes into her hot tunnel, meeting resistance from her internal muscles every inch of the way- god, she's so tight! He's never experienced a pleasure like what this girl is giving him in his whole life. And from the looks of it, she shares the sentiment.

"Ahhhh… Oh, yes… Mmmmm…" As she issues a constant stream of pleasured cries and catlike mewls, her head has rolled back and her hand in his squeezes languidly. She's lost in pleasure, and her long body all drawn taught rolls as if floating on the sea. As he's gazing at her, a feeling of happiness swells within him- And in one instant, he has no doubt. He ceases his movement, and gathers her hands together in his. She looks up curiously. "What-"

"Ahiru. Ahiru, I love you." He says, shining gold eyes all aflame and face smiling. "I probably did the first moment I saw you, like you were a part of my life I hadn't found yet."

Ahiru gasps in surprise. "Fakir, I- Well I don't- But I love you too. I really do. I feel like somehow… like we're destined to be together."

Fakir pulls Ahiru's hands up, and in a moment they're sitting facing each other on the bed. A tear slides down Ahiru's cheek, and fakir wipes it again, then kisses the girl once more. He draws her to him, and she traces a hand down his firm belly and takes him into her hand again, then moves towards him, lifting herself up and guiding the sizable head to her tight opening. When it's in place, she wraps her arms around his broad shoulders and sinks down onto him, their legs akimbo but bodies fitting so closely together they can feel each other's heartbeat.

She looks up at him, happiness radiating from her pretty face, and says, "I'm so happy… I hope this moment never ends." She begins to draw her hips up, and with his as her anchor, down again, leaving him able only to hold on to her and allow her to take the lead. In this new position they're face to face, free to kiss and whisper their love and moan in the pleasure they're giving each other. Fakir begins to match the girl's strokes with upwards thrusts and before long…

"Oh, Fakir… I'm gonna… If you keep hitting that…. Oh, god… Fakiiiiiiirrrrr—!" She buries her head in his neck, moist inner muscles clamping around him, thin arms squeezing him equally as tight.

Her orgasm triggers his immediately- he'd been trying not to come for minutes now- and with a shuddering gasp of "-Hiru!" he releases inside her, shooting blasts of blazing hot cum deep inside her. He growls and thrusts weakly, and as the exhausted girl flops off of his spasming cock, rope after thick rope of Fakir's pearly white essence arc over her to land on her belly and chest. When finally his orgasm finally subsides, he collapses beside her.

The girl is struggling to catch her breath as the feeling of his length inside her is replaced by the feeling of their combined juices seeping out of her. She turns her head to look at the boy, who's already gazing at her. "I love you." He says again. "I've never said that to anyone before."

She giggles. "That was the most amazing night of my life. You saved my life… and showed me something like this… and looking like that-" She motions at him weakly "How could I not love you?"

"Well, if we're going to be together, I suppose I'd have something to do to distract me of full moons…"

"That's the spirit." She says, kissing him on the nose. A lazy smile adorns her bright features. "Say, I want to hear the rest of the story."

"Story? Now? Forget it, I'm too tired."

"I'm not letting you go to bed until you tell me what happened to that orphan storyteller." She snaps her teeth at him. "I bite, remember?"

With a deep sigh, Fakir sleepily concedes. "Very well. Um… The storyteller regales the highwaymen with his masterpiece and they let him live. On the way to the next town he gets caught in a horrible downpour and entreats the occupant of a lonely cottage to help him out of his predicament. Lo and behold, it's a beautiful redheaded maiden all alone and naked OW!"

"I'll punch you again if you're not going to be serious!"

"I am being serious. Couldn't you tell at all? The story was about me the whole time."

"What? So the highwaymen…"

"Well, based on me. I may have embellished details here and there, like the traveling part- I really do live in the forest, not even that far from here. But I do get to add a fight scene and a love scene now… That should improve my odds of getting published, right?"

Ahiru flops back on to the bed from her position hovering over the boy and ready to strike. "I'll ask my Grandma to make some inquiries for you… She knows everyone in the village; she's got to know someone who can get your book bound." She snuggles close to him, and puts an arm across his chest. He rolls on his side, facing her. "Usually I can't sleep during a storm. But for some reason, I'm not afraid of the thunder tonight. Goodnight, my love."

In the dimming glow of the embers, the lovers embraced, and before the last coals went out they were fast asleep. Even as rain battered the small cottage and thunder shook the trees around them, the only sound they heard was their hearts beating in unison.

Ahiru made a face. "Beating in unison? I mean, it's cute, don't get me wrong, but don't you think the ending is a bit cheesy?"

Fakir put down the mug of tea he'd been drinking from to ease his throat, a bit sore from telling the long story. "Don't pick apart the endings, you always do that! I worked hard on this one, and I wanted the ending to be romantic."

"I think it's more romantic when the ending is realistic."

"Realistic? The story is about a damn werewolf!"

"So? What's your point?"

"Werewolves aren't real!"

"Yes they are! But anyway-"

"It's based on a fairy tale! Tell you what, for your next story I'm bringing a notebook to bed and writing down every little thing that bugs me, and then reading them to you afterwards. Would you like that?"

Ahiru just laughs, older now but never quite outgrowing her girlish voice. "I loved your story, Fakir. And anyway, I did say the ending was cute! You take things so personally… We both know you're the best writer in Goldkrone."

Fakir relaxes slightly. "Ok… Now will you be able to sleep?"

Duck looks quizzical, then says "I forgot why I was scared in the first place." The storm had subsided and all that was left was the gentle patter of drops falling from trees onto the cabin's roof. "Oh yeah… I hate thunder, but I love the sound of raindrops. Is that strange?"

"Everything about you is strange. Why do you think I love you so much?" Asks Fakir. He pecks her on the cheek, leans over and switches off the lamp, and with a sigh, lays down to sleep. After a minute, though, the girl's voice starts him.


"Yes, Ahiru?"

"I'd still love you if you were a werewolf. Just so you know."

"Werewolves aren't real. Go to sleep."


"Just go to-"

"Yes they are."