Creature Comforts

2753 words

River stays the night at a kind stranger's house. Things get a bit fuzzy.

Contains: a fantasy setting, magic users, scent kink, size difference, rimming, anal sex, knotting, and a large (very) friendly werewolf.

The sun has begun to set, and I’ve found myself much farther into the forest than intended. An easy foraging day, Adelaide said. Definitely back in time for dinner, Adelaide said.

I can’t help but smack a tree branch in frustration when I pass the same trail marker for the third time.

“Hello.” A masculine voice says from behind me. I whirl around. For a terrifying moment, I think some forest spirit has come to seek retribution for my violent actions against treekind.

“Hello?” My voice trembles.

A man steps out from behind one of the wider trees. He’s large in every sense of the word, tall and solidly built. I’m surprised at how quiet he manages to be as he approaches. The stranger waves.

“Oh, hello! It’s nice to see another person.” I call out to him, waving back.

As he gets closer, the height difference between us becomes more pronounced. My eyeline is at his collarbone. The collar of his shirt is open, slightly damp with sweat. In the middle of his chest lies a green pendant.

My time with Miss Adelaide has me analyzing the crystal before I’m consciously aware. It looks like an agate of some kind, verdant and hand polished. I will my gaze upward. His hair is long, a loose braid pulling the front strands back.

“River.” I offer my hand, and he shakes it. He has surprisingly soft hands.

“Sylvan.” He says.

“Nice to meet you. Wish it was under better circumstances.” Sylvan cocks his head to the side. I can almost see the question mark form above it. “I’m very lost,” I clarify.  

He grunts. “Oh. I could tell.” Sylvan gestures in the direction he approached from. “Been behind you for a while on the trail.”  

I groan. “That obvious, huh?”

“Don’t feel bad. She likes to confuse people.” Sylvan says.

I laugh, pretending that’s a normal thing to say about a wooded area. “She’s certainly bamboozled me.”

Sylvan suddenly leans in. I flinch. It doesn’t seem to deter him. He breathes in deeply through his nose, and his eyes light up with recognition.

 “You know Adelaide?” He says.

I laugh, incredulous. “You can tell that from… what? The way I smell?”

He nods. “Good nose.”

“Oh. Wow.” The distance between us is negligible. I take a step back to restore my personal space. “Yeah, I’m Adelaide’s new apprentice.”

An awkward pause stretches out into silence. I clear my throat. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to live nearby, would you?”

“Yes, quite close. Why?” Sylvan says.

“Well, I know we’re practically strangers, but would it be possible if- uh, that is to say-” Good gods, get it together, River. Just ask the question. “Could I spend the night?”  

Sylvan looks caught off-guard. “With me?”

 “Well, if not, that’s okay.” The heat rises to my cheeks. I rub the back of my neck. “I’m just… not really equipped to spend the night in the woods?”

He claps me on the shoulder. “No. You can stay at my house.” The hesitation from before is forgotten. “A friend of Adelaide’s is a friend of mine.”

I thank Sylvan profusely. Hejust grunts in response. We walk in silence after that. The distance to his cabin is short - we’re able to get there before the sun has finished setting.

It’s difficult to tell how old the building is. The façade blends into the landscape surrounding it, neutral stone tucked into a hillside. We enter through the front door into a multipurpose living space. A fireplace dominates the room. There’s a closed door across the way.

“You can put your things there.”

Sylvan gestures for me to set my bag next to the fireplace. In front of the brick hearth, the floor is layered with furs from animals that seem impossibly large.

“I have a quilt in the back. Come see if it’s heavy enough.”

I follow him through the closed door into a small storeroom. It looks like this is where most of Sylvan’s possessions are when not in use. Clothes hang in one corner, canned foods line another wall.

Sylvan sorts through an oak chest. He pulls out a folded quilt from the bottom and hands it to me.

“Okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, this is good.”

Sylvan holds the door open for me. I think he sniffs me when I pass by. I decide to not call attention to it.

“Thank you again for letting me stay the night.” I say.

“No problem.” Sylvan says. He follows me out, but seems to be distracted, retreating back to the storeroom. I can hear him rustle around for a while. When he finally comes out he’s obviously agitated, wringing his hands.

“Sylvan?” He ignores me and starts pulling on his boots. I try again. “Everything okay?”

That garners a response. “Fine. Sorry.” He continues lacing his boots. I think his hands are shaking, but I can’t tell with the pace he’s moving at. “Going for a walk.”

Multiple follow-up questions come to mind, but I push them down. We’re essentially strangers. I don’t want to overstep. Instead, I say, “Okay. Be safe.”

Well, now that I’m alone, I might as well get comfortable. I strip down to my undershirt and shorts. Getting underneath the quilt, I curl up next to the dying fire.

The furs cradle me. They’re soft and vaguely scented with musk. I yawn. The exhaustion of the day threatens to plunge me into sleep. It’s on this precipice of consciousness that I find myself staring into the hearth, wondering where my host has gone.

I dream of the moon, full and luminous, hanging in the sky. The pinpricks of starlight fall away under the moon’s glow. Trees stretch upward towards its embrace.

I’m woken by a scuffling at the door.

“Hello?” I call out. My throat is scratchy from almost-sleep.  

Sylvan? It sounds like he’s having a hard time turning the doorknob. Is he drunk?

That train of thought is derailed as soon as the door opens and the silhouette of a werewolf takes its place.

I shrink as far back into the fur pile as I can. The beast has to duck its head to get inside. Their nails click on the hardwood.

“H-hey there, buddy.” The werewolf quirks their head to the side. It’s difficult to tell how much the figure is understanding of what I’m saying, but they’re listening, at least. “Are you lost?”

I notice a glint in their chest fur. As they move further into the room, I cautiously eye it. A pendant hangs around their neck. It’s a familiar mossy agate.

“Sylvan?” My voice shakes.

The lycanthrope nods.

“Sylvan!? Holy shit.” I regret letting my voice go loud when Sylvan reacts. He whines and shrinks in on himself, avoiding eye contact.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ll be honest, you scared me a little, but now that I know it’s you, it’s fine.” I hold my hands up in placation. Sylvan perks up a little, but doesn’t get closer.

Despite what I’ve said, the adrenaline from suddenly being in the same room as a 3-meter tall werewolf that I barely know hasn’t died down. I find myself rambling. “I mean, you’re letting me stay here. Hell, this is your place, you could curl up next to me and I’d understand.”

His ears perk up at that suggestion.

I blink. “Is that- do you want to lay down here?”

Sylvan’s tail starts to wag, sweeping side to side. His hand-paw moves up to his chest. “Together. Please.”  He signs.

I’m mildly surprised to find Sylvan can use Modified Common in this form. Well, I guess that answers my question about how much he can understand. “Oh, well, jeez.” I laugh. My heart still pounds. “Yeah, okay. Why not.”

He wastes no time in curling around me from behind. The fur that covers his chest tickles against my neck.

“Hi there.” I tentatively reach a hand back. He leans his cheek into my palm and whines. I card my fingers through the fur at the base of his scalp, trying to ignore the strangeness of the situation. His tail thumps against the layers of animal pelts that make up our makeshift bed.

“Good boy.” I tease. Sylvan huffs, and winds an arm around my middle. I can hear his tail pick up speed.

We lay there for a while, his hand resting against my chest. My heartbeat slows, reminding me I was asleep not long ago.

I idly pet the fur that covers Sylvan’s arm. It’s thick, dragging against my fingers, but soft. It seems like good insulation. Not that he seems to need it. His body runs hot, almost feverish, against my bare skin.

“You’re warm.” I scoot back so his front is pressed up against my back. Sylvan buries his snout in the crook of my neck in response. His nose tickles.

“Smelling me again?” I ask, knowing the answer. Sylvan whines. The press of his nose moves from my shoulder to the back of my head. The day of hiking has left my hair stiff with dried sweat.

It doesn’t seem like Sylvan minds. His erection prods against my back.

I wiggle my hips experimentally. His body goes still. I make the motion more intentional, grinding my ass against his dick, and he growls.

“Do I really smell that good?”

The answer, apparently, is yes. I barely register the cool night air against my bare ass before Sylvan’s tongue is dragging along my perineum. The sudden attention forces the breath out of me.

His tongue circles around my hole, his paws on my ass. The thick muscle of his tongue wiggles into me. It’s thick, easily as big as a couple of my fingers.

“Oh, fuck!” I press back into his touch.

He eats me out like this for what feels like an eternity. I can feel myself start to get hard, dick rubbing against the temporary mattress.

I tap one of the paws on my ass. “Hey. Give me a moment.”

It takes a moment for Sylvan to register what I’ve said. Once he processes, the press of his body moves back. I take the opportunity to kick off my undershorts completely and wiggle forward towards my travel pack.

Sylvan whines. I look back at him. He looks forlorn, like he can’t believe I’d leave him alone for more than a second.

“Hey, buddy. I’m going to need a little more than spit to be able to take your cock.”

I scrounge around the inner side pocket of my bag. Pushing aside a stained notebook, I find the jar I’m looking for with about a thimbleful of oil inside. Next to it is a larger vial I definitely don’t remember packing.

Twine is tied around the neck of the new bottle, attaching a folded piece of paper. On one side, the contents are listed in neat handwriting. It seems to be a blend of seed oils. On the other side is a scrawled note. “For emergencies. XOXO, Adelaide.”

I open the bottle and upend it on my index finger. I rub the oil between my fingers, testing the viscosity. The liquid feels thick and velvety. “Alright. We’re in business.”

As soon as I vocalize approval, Sylvan snatches the vial and pours what feels like half of it over my ass.

Strong paws arrange me like I weigh nothing, lifting me up so I’m on my knees. Sylvan ruts up against me, spreading the slickness over his cock.

I lift my hips up, allowing his cock to slide between my legs. It smears my inner thigh with precum and oil on the way. I look between my legs, curious.

Sylvan’s dick in this form isn’t much longer than the average human, really. Where the exception begins is with girth. The shaft is about as thick as my forearm, and that isn’t even taking the knot growth into account.

Sylvan whines and bucks up between my thighs. I close my legs gently around his cock so he can get friction.

“Sorry. I just wanted to get a better look before you fuck me.” I say.

The length of his erection slides back between my thighs. I can feel the tip drag against my hole as Sylvan lines up his hips with mine.

Fuck, this could rip me in half.

His paws grab my ass. They spread me apart, dull claws pinpoints against the tender flesh.

 “Slow. Please.” I manage to choke out. Sylvan growls, then presses into me.

The head of his cock opens me up, my body submitting to the intrusion. Oh, fuck. Sylvan might’ve felt big on the outside, but on the inside, he was massive. I silently thank Adelaide for whatever enchantment is on this oil. Despite his size, I’m only feeling a stretch, not pain. Yet.

His fur whispers against my face as he doubles over. I can tell he’s trying to contain himself, letting me get used to the feeling of being penetrated. He’s panting hot breath against the back of my neck.

“I can take more.” I say.

Sylvan obliges, pushing inch by searing inch of his cock into me. There’s definitely an ache once he’s balls deep. I moan, wondering how much further his knot will stretch me open.

His wet, hot tongue licks the sweat from my back. My back arches into the touch. He buries his wet, cold nose into the crook of my neck and sniffs. I can feel his cock pulse inside of me.

“Fuck, that’s good.” I say, hoping it sounds less desperate than I feel.

The hot air of his breath puffs against the slick skin as the points of his teeth rest against my shoulder. I shudder. He remains buried inside me, panting. I realize he’s waiting for me to give him instructions.

“You can start moving.”

Sylvan pulls out halfway, then snaps his hips forward, burying his full length inside me again. He makes a few shallow thrusts before setting a rhythm of long, slow strokes. I try to match his pace, rocking my hips back.

“Oh, good boy.”

As soon as I praise him, Sylvan stops being cautious. He pounds into me, hard and fast, fucking me open until his cock slides in and out easily. Wet sounds fill the room, skin slapping against skin.

“You’re so deep inside me.” I moan. My head goes fuzzy. “It feels like I’m going to be- ah fuck- molded around your cock forever.”

 I can feel the base of his cock swelling. Soon, it doesn’t fit inside of me. Sylvan settles for impaling me on the rest of his shaft, still filling me up more than enough. The knot pushes against my hole with each thrust.

The grip he has on my hips is tight. In the back of my mind, I realize I’ll probably bruise. The thought sends a thrill through me. I reach for my own cock, neglected and leaking with each thrust.

“Gods, yeah, right there.” I get close to orgasm embarrassingly quickly once I start stroking myself. Based on the stuttering rhythm of his thrusts, Sylvan is close too.

“You wanna cum in me?” I ask. Sylvan lets out a noise halfway between a growl and a whine. “Go ahead. Fuck me full of it.”

The hand on my cock speeds up as Sylvan bucks into me as much as his knot allows. I can feel the sore muscles of my thighs tighten. Gods, this is how I want to orgasm from now on. Barraged by thick cock. I know it’ll ache soon, but for now it feels like ecstasy.

Sylvan’s knot tugs at my rim as it pops out. He growls and thrusts it back inside.

I think I shout, but it might be Sylvan. Differentiation seems unimportant right now. Sylvan wraps around me as he orgasms, hips stuttering. He stays sheathed inside of me as I frantically stroke myself. Then, my thoughts dissolve into pleasure.

As the rhythmic contractions of my orgasm slow, Sylvan’s cock remains firmly planted inside me. I know it’ll be uncomfortable at best come morning. I can’t bring my exhausted mind and body to mind much.  

I nestle down into the bed of furs. In the wake of our mutual orgasms, Sylvan’s body is warm enough that I don’t need the quilt.

His arm drapes over my waist. He seems to have drifted off to sleep almost immediately. I’m not far behind, post-orgasmic bliss fading into dreams.