Releasing Tensions - chapter 2

She just needed it, that curling, twisting pit of need in her stomach aching for more. Yet Chetney was more than glad to give her everything that she wanted, nestled in close to her, between her legs, the softness of her fur warming him through. He panted softly, caught up in the moment, though he ignored even the mild ache and stiffness in his wrist as he finger fucked her, working as deeply as he possibly could. There was nothing else for him, not in that moment, thinking of her and her alone, no more and no less. Even for him, being able to give that much attention to someone was special, something that could take him away from everything else that was going on at that time, even the trials of the road and his own body. Well, it was good to have someone around that liked and did not mind that part of him too.

"Oh..." She tensed, toes curling and then flexing, hardly containing herself. "Yes... Oh, Chetney... I'm so close..."

He pushed her there, breaking that line of tension as he thrust her right over the edge into bliss. She moaned, pressing her face down into the sheets even as they rumpled and twisted under their bodies, locked in a moment of bliss, though Chetney got something different from massaging and masturbating her than the faun did.

He grunted, pressed up against her as he helped the faun ride out her orgasm, the grinding bucks of her hips ever so beautifully seductive. Chetney smiled, hypnotised by them as she squirted around his fingers, her juices dripping down, coating both his fingers and a part of his hand. It was a little on the messy side, but, hey, they weren't going to be the ones who were cleaning the sheets and laundering everything needed from the inn's room afterwards...

"Mmm..." Fearne groaned, stretching out. "You should...mmph, let me treat you nicely now too, Chetney."

He grinned.

"Well, I suppose I could," he said, dragging out his words. "That is, if you insist..."

The faun smiled, still a little shaky in the warming afterglow, though she knew Chetney's body so well that she didn't honestly have to think twice about anything. There was a little hair on his body, his skin a little wrinkly from both his age and his heritage, but it was all those little nuances that Fearne enjoyed leaning into with a person. She wanted to see the real person, the person that was underneath outside appearances, what they presented to the world. And there was so much more to Chetney than what others took of him...

Murmuring to him softly, she slid her hands over his shoulders and down his back, following the line on either side of his spine. Unlike the gnome's treatment of her, there was no specific place on his body that her fingers lingered more than any other, though she could follow his grunts and groans, zeroing in on the sore spots that Chetney, sweetly so, was too proud to point out to her.

Much the same as he had done with her, she focused on giving him a full body massage, finding the smallest of spots to bear her fingers lightly into, though she had a more nuanced, tactile touch than Chetney -- it was just something that she had learned from another faun years ago. Her tail twitched back and forth, legs aching softly from the force of her orgasm, but she didn't mind that even as he rolled onto his back at her gently bidding. A look of discomfort crossed his face, if only for a split second, as he shifted his weight. A press to the front of his shoulder brought another shudder and muttered curse, her eyes gleaming as she caught it. Even when he didn't want her to.

"You don't have to be so proud, Chetney," Fearne admonished him lightly, though knew too that it would go over his head. "You don't have to stay in this form either, now, do you?"

She posed it as a question as the gnome picked his head back up, eyeing her levelly.

"Are you sure? It's been a while for that one..."

Fearne smiled, her head tilted slightly to the right, her smile developing a coyer edge to it.

"Only if you think you can handle me like that..."

Fearne was not always that forward, but it felt right in that moment, as if she was able to take a cheekier step forward there than before. The gnome chuckled and nodded, meeting her halfway, though his shift into his werewolf form was quick, in a burst of power and fur. He did not grow as large as he usually did in that form, for Chetney was neither an ordinary gnome nor an ordinary werewolf, but a little larger than her only, perhaps by head and shoulders. His muscles rippled, even under his fur, which layered down over his body as if it was trying to hide it.

Fearne purred lightly, tongue clicking in the back of her mouth. He was glorious like that too, the shift between gnome body and werewolf body something that would always fascinate her, though she hoped that she didn't come off as if she was obsessed with it in a bad way. She just enjoyed it, being trusted with seeing every part of the gnome, especially when his werewolf shape only usually came out when he was forced to use it. Of course, that would always be Chetney's decision and his decision alone which body he chose to take on, day by day.

Still...she could adore even more of him like that, admiring the gleam of his dark fur, almost with a silvery-blue tint to it in the darkness of the inn's room. Although the crackling fire had burned a little lower, letting out more heat than light at that time, they could still more than easily see one another, though Fearne's vision was a little worse at dawn and dusk, whereas he did not have such issues.

Her hands roamed him, admiring his strong thighs, for she knew that he too had been looking at her body with that quiet gleam of pleasure in his eyes. There was something there, maybe, just a little something, but Fearne sank into the moment, making it so she didn't have to think or worry about anything else.

Her world was small, in that moment, the aroma of burning wood -- pine, she thought, with something else mixed in -- filling the room, adding a strangely sultry air to the moment, as if something else was pulling through the little bedroom. She rubbed him down, over his broad chest and shoulders, feeling out the edges of every single muscle there was to be found there. It was so much more defined as a werewolf, boasting his strength, than Chetney was as a gnome, but that was to be expected from the nature of his body. It was still the kind of muscle, one way or the other, that Chetney had to maintain and work out. Travelling and working, however, was more than enough for his werewolf form.