Shadows In The Moonlight 1

A request featuring Nick the worgen and Sylvanas Windrunner

***

For a city of the dead the Undercity was rather bright this time of year. Lunar Festival decorations were sprawled across shops and balconies, and paper lanterns, illuminated by candle or crystal, repelled what the Dark Lady typically regarded as very comforting shadows.

"Too many damned holidays," Sylvanas muttered, pulling her cloak more tightly about her. The cloak, different from her customary cape, hid her body under a bulk of black silk and shimmering raven feathers.

She rounded a corner and swatted at a lantern with a pink heart attached to it that nearly hit her in the face, glared at a passing orc from deep under her hood as if he'd personally placed it there. The orc, apparently sufficiently disturbed by her eerie red eyes staring at him, kept his distance and hurried along as if she'd turn into a banshee and gobble him up.

And not in the way that she typically gobbled men up.

Sylvanas continued on, gliding through the Undercity's streets like a shadow, an eagerness in her step despite the annoyance she felt towards the holiday decorations. For the past week she had been absent from the Undercity while she visited her sisters in Quel'thalas. This trip had proved fortunate for her, giving her a good excuse not to be within the Undercity during any Lunar Festival festivities which she, as leader, would be pressured to attend.

As she was now finding out however, she had arrived just in time for the advent of another obnoxious holiday: Love is in the Air. Perhaps even worse, she'd arrived during an interim period in which the Lunar Festival decorations were still being displayed while the Love is in the Air decorations were being put up throughout the city. All around her an odd, tacky mix of ornaments and other disgusting doodads now gave her city, typically known for its labyrinthine corridors and utilitarian function, an air similar to that of a circus rather than the macabre sewer that it was.

Carrying her annoyance on the sleeve of her thick cloak, Sylvanas' boots marched her quickly in the direction of her quarters, and her thoughts, which had been angrily focused on the potentiality of non-compliant decorations interfering with flight paths, turned to what awaited her back in the Royal Quarter. First, Anya, who had been acting as her double. But then...

Upon entering the Royal Quarter she threw out a quick salute to her guards and then caught the eye of her dark ranger, her body temporarily morphing into that of a banshee as she floated up to the dais in which her throne, and Anya, sat.

"Mistress," the dark ranger said, jumping to her feet and looking uncharacteristically excited. "Welcome back."

Desiring to dispense with necessary duties as quickly as possible, Sylvanas said, "Details, ranger. Anything I should know about?"

Anya stood up straight and relayed with military efficiency what had occurred over the past week. "Beginning three days after you left, our forces reported minor skirmishes with the gnolls near the border of Silverpine. A day after that we captured Alliance spies in the area and are working to see if the two are connected."

Sylvanas waved a bored hand. "Gnolls and spies, what else is new? Did our alchemists not develop a truth serum for such occasions?"

"Yes, but... well, the side effects can be rather deadly. The interrogators are saving it as a last resort in case it renders the captives unable to function afterwards."

"

Unable to function

?" Sylvanas snorted, then motioned towards her private quarters. "How is the beast?"

"Right where you left him, Mistress."

At this Sylvanas' lips curved into a smile. "Splendid," she said, tapping Anya's arm with the back of her hand as she moved away. "Then I will be unavailable for some time. You will continue your assignment of impersonating me for these holiday festivities. If you need assistance, utilize Clea."

"But Mistress," Anya protested, shrinking back a little when Sylvanas whirled on her. "Clea is... preoccupied."

Sylvanas scowled as realization hit her.

Ah yes, preoccupied! How could she have forgotten? During her last visit to Quel'thalas, Clea had used her mistress' absence to engage in some physical activity with Nick and, somehow, managed to get knocked up--the gutter tramp. Worse yet, so had two val'kyr and a number of other rangers. Unbeknownst to everyone at the time, some of them still retained their reproductive faculties. Lesson learned: do not leave a worgen sex pet unattended. As a result, Sylvanas had locked him in her private chambers with provisions for the entirety of her latest trip. Naturally the second lesson of this ordeal was to research necromancy that allowed for reproduction, and by extension population growth.

"Figure it out then," Sylvanas ordered. "You have full authority while I'm absent."

With that, she left her subordinate to conduct the affairs of the Undercity, and with each step she took the more eager she became. For one week she'd been away, and for one week her lack of sexual activity had built up a fierce hunger within her. An incredible hunger. A hunger for one thing and one thing only: cock. Thick, throbbing worgen cock, beating into her pussy, knotting her and making her scream and cream.

Sylvanas found herself salivating, licked her lips, reached for the door of her inner quarters and yanked it open in a rush.

She stepped inside. The heavy door clicked shut behind her.

The inside of her chambers appeared suspiciously empty, however certain things were out of place that made it obvious to her that it had been lived in. A pair of identical Sin'dorei crystal lamps, positioned at opposite ends of the room, cast their dim purple glow over naked stone walls. An empty glass stood next to a half-empty pitcher of water and a loaf of bread upon a table. Her bed was unmade. Upon the floor were a number of male clothes that caused one of her long eyebrows to twitch in annoyance.

She glanced into a secondary room adjacent to this one, saw nothing. She peered up into the darkness of the high vaulted ceiling, again saw nothing. A smile crept its way across her features, her eyes searching the deep shadows of her quarters for the slightest sign of movement. Knowing he was there, sensing he was there. Expecting him to leap forth at any moment, she felt a sort of throbbing itch growing within her, demanding release. For a nympho such as her, a week without sex had left her in desperate need of a good filling.

Lazily, as if she were alone and simply getting comfortable after a long day, she raised her arms and allowed the silk and raven feathered cloak to tumble to the floor, revealing the bodacious body of one of the most highly sought after women on Azeroth.

Blue skin and luscious curves emerged from beneath the cloak. Like the unveiling of a masterpiece of elven sculpture, Sylvanas stood proudly dignified, her presence commanding attention. She had the type of figure that was impeccably fit and incredibly voluptuous, a combination achieved through dedicated training and superb genetics. Her muscles were toned and her waist was small, yet she had plenty above and plenty below. Long agile legs supported statuesque proportions, powerful thighs, a wide pair of womanly hips perfectly suited for a worgen's paws to grip as he slammed her from behind and made that marvelous ass jiggle.

Anticipating her return, Sylvanas had picked up a special sort of souvenir whilst in Quel'thalas just for this occasion. Until now it had been hidden beneath her cloak, but the full set of red lingerie complete with stockings and garter belt were now displayed to any man or beast that might be hiding amidst the darkness of her private quarters.

Casually, she adjusted her bra, the size of which appeared to provide less than adequate coverage, then ran a finger under the waistline of the garter belt which came up to her belly button and pressed against the faint lines of her abs. Head lowered, blonde hair shading her face, her gaze cut slowly across the shadows within the room again, searching for movement. Again there was nothing. She smirked, stepped forward, and immediately one of the puddles of darkness from across the room came alive with tooth and claw, springing for her but missing as her body dissipated into that of a banshee. Purple-black smoke whirled as she dodged. A furry hand grasped for her, missed. She delighted in this unusual foreplay, a grin on her beautiful, twisted face.

Like a storm she flew about the room, a preternatural gale that taunted the worgen until at last with great effort he managed to capture her. Strong hands grasped her rapidly solidifying body, and as she returned to her normal elven self she was twirled around and bent over the table, ass raised. Her grin grew, as did the otherworldly fire in her eyes when she glanced back at her worgen fuck buddy and observed both his massive body and his massive cock issuing forth from its sheathe like an executioner drawing his blade.

"That's it," she hissed in response to Nick's hands taking possessive pawfuls of her big blue ass, squeezing her thick cheeks and indenting her skin with his claws. "Go on and give it to me you mongrel."

Her furry lover growled, smacked her ass hard enough to make it jiggle and leave an imprint of his hand. In the next instant, before she could finish a sultry little moan, he ripped the silky red string of her thong and, hands holding her ass in place, brought his snout to her needy cunt. His long tongue dragged along her wet slit, parted her folds and made her wiggle her hips back against him, her spectral groans driving him on as he lapped at her pussy like the thirstiest dog in the world.

Between his hot breath and incredible tongue Sylvanas had a hard time keeping her head on straight, had a hard time keeping still even, her hands firmly planted on the table while she trembled and squirmed and bucked into his snout. Each scrape of that wolfish tongue on her clit drove her closer and closer to orgasm, but before she could reach it Nick abruptly stood up. She felt then the heavy slab of his crimson behemoth slap against her ass, one, two, three taps, smearing her with his natural lubricant; then in one deftly efficient motion he dipped the inhuman tip of his canine monster into her entrance and shoved home, reclaiming her royal pussy after one long week's absence.

The two of them howled in ecstasy. A shiver quivered up Sylvanas' spine. Her pussy contracted around his titanic girth, and before she could fully prepare for the next stroke it came, full force and balls-deep, the tip of the worgen's banshee breaking fuckstick kissing her cervix and rattling her brain--again and again and again, an agonizingly sweet loop that repeated every time he pulled out and slammed back in.

"Yes!" she screamed, mad from a lust that had gone unfulfilled for far too long, her blonde hair streaking about her as she tossed her head. Her jubilant cries echoed with power just as her private quarters simultaneously began to echo with the sound of violent sex, of her pussy being packed, pounded and pummelled full of throbbing hard worgen dick, of an unabashed knotslut receiving what she desperately craved.

After one whole week cooped up in this room, and with the Lunar Festival coinciding with the zenith of both Azeroth's moons, Nick was even more crazed than the dick-starved Dark Lady. One moon was enough to empower him, but two took him to the extreme of physical ability, significantly magnifying the worgen curse.

Seven days seemed to be all it had taken for the full madness of his worgen curse to take hold, leaving him as little more than a huge, bipedal wolf with a wicked libido to match. Appropriately, he showed little humanity in the way he humped her atop the table, teeth bared, muscles flexing beneath fur, spittle flying, drool dripping, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth while he gripped the Dark Lady's wide hips and recklessly pumped, pumped, pumped. Like a feral dog on a bitch, like pure sexual instinct personified, he stretched out Sylvanas' slick cunt and rearranged her insides, punishing her for locking him up by making the cock addicted banshee slut scream and send the pitcher of water, along with the glass and loaf of bread, crashing to the floor. And when his cock tore a quick orgasm from her he locked his jaws around the back of her neck, taking a possessive hold on her and emitting a low growl as her pussy rippled deliciously around him in a vain effort to milk his plundering cock.

A quarter of a minute passed. He released her neck from his jaws after her orgasm had subsided, but the

smack-smack-smack

of his cock brutalizing her pussy and his hips crashing against her big jiggling ass continued without restraint or hesitation. Nothing could pull him away from her now. He'd been waiting a week to fuck the Banshee Queen's brains out and knot her pussy and that's exactly what was going to happen. Right here on this table. It was fate. Destiny. A foredoomed end. A foregone conclusion whether she liked it or not.

But oh, did she like it.

Sylvanas, clad in her special lingerie and bent ungraciously over the table while the enormous worgen rutted her pussy, scrambled her brain, and beat her ass like a drum with the smacking of his muscular hips, ducked her head and drooled profusely onto the table. A spectral groan escaped her lips. Her hair, like a platinum blonde curtain about her face, hid the obscene twisting of her facial features and the way her eyes rolled in their sockets with each pump of dick into her tight elven cunt.

"

Anar'alash

," she quietly husked, followed soon after by a deep, velvety, "Oooh" and a tremble of her curvaceous body.

Nick responded by leaving another paw print on her ass.

Sylvanas' groans picked up again as her next orgasm approached, her ghostly voice soon filling the room once more. Not a single thought other than those related to how good the dick violating her pussy felt ever crossed her mind.

"Such a good boy," she purred, flinching when he smacked her ass again, then melting when his hot breath tickled her neck followed by him lapping at one of her long ears.

Brutal, animalistic and silent of speech, if not for the hands on her hips she would have little way of knowing her lover was even a man. Savagely he delivered stroke after stroke, his fur brushing against her smooth skin, his beastly snarls more befitting of an inhuman beast tearing into prey than a person of intelligence or capacity for thought. Worgen were large, ferocious creatures, but Nick was an exceptional specimen doubly enhanced by Azeroth's dual moons. The raw force of his massive body colliding with her backside caused her athletic body, honed through millennia, to strain to its limit, the muscles in her arms, shoulders and back growing taut, contrasted erotically by the endless bouncing of her fat ass against the worgen's hairy pelvis as he dicked her into oblivion.

Truth be told, she had chosen to arrive home a day early. When asked by her sisters why she planned to leave so soon, she had offered some vague excuse related to statecraft, but in reality this was why. Even in this unlife of hers she had always found sex to be an enjoyable activity, whether it be with orcs, elves, tauren or trolls, but since taking this worgen sex pet into her chambers day after day, year after year, her appetite for cock had grown tremendously.

Though at times, such as during her trips to Quel'thalas, these urges became an inconvenience, she did not mind them. After all, despite her leadership abilities she was most prominently a ranger who excelled at physical activities, at physical challenges. Likely this was one reason why she could get dicked down by a mad worgen more than three times her size and enjoy it.

Perhaps even a little too much.

Well over an hour of brutal banshee breaking sex passed before Nick began to flag, and by this time Sylvanas lay twitching upon the table, a sorry sight far removed from her normal dignified self. Her fit body shone with a heavy layer of sweat under tattered remnants of lingerie. Her torn bra lay partially beneath her, exposing her breasts so that they ballooned against the hard surface of the table. Her hair had fallen about the tabletop like tattered strands of golden silk. Shallow claw marks tattooed her hips and ass. And directly across from her, although it was enchanted every two weeks to resist her banshee screams, the wall looked as if an etin's fist had punched through it.

Behind her still, Nick worked her pussy into a wet, squelching mess, his huge hands keeping an unbreakable hold on her practically lifeless body, the only movement of which came from her ass jiggling and shaking under his assault. For the Dark Lady and her perverse desires, it did not get better than this.

Dicked into sweet oblivion and barely conscious, when at last her worgen lover surged forward and sank his knot into her pussy she moaned an inaudible moan obfuscated by the beast's long, triumphant howl. Nick, celebrating his hard-earned victory like a wolf talking to the moon, did not cease his howling until he'd drained his sack into Sylvanas' pussy and drowned her womb with a glutinous load of potent seed. Desiring above all else to knock her up as well, just as he had done to her rangers and val'kyr.

Sylvanas did not even entertain the thought. A final surge of pleasure blanketed her body and wrapped around her brain before she passed out.

***

A week later

Within the Royal Quarter of Undercity, three adventurers shuffled down the stairs that led up to the Dark Lady's elevated dais, passing a great number of other members of the Horde who, in the spirit of Love is in the Air, had lined up to gift the former Ranger-General holiday charm bracelets.

"Don't you think she looks a bit different?" one of the three, an orc, whispered conspiratorially once they had reached the bottom of the stairs.

"What?" another replied.

"Sylvanas. Just look at her tits. Usually those jugs are popping out of her armor! And when you look at her sideways... if she just turns a bit--there, see? Her ass isn't as big. It's supposed to be like this--" He made some ridiculous curving gestures with his hands to prove his point. The other two just stared at him.

"I wouldn't know."

"Ah, you wouldn't," he said, waving dismissively. "You're undead."

The undead, who had one ear and a comically baggy robe, said, "I resent your implication. I'll have you know I was raised into undeath rather quickly and as such am fully functioning. I simply prefer tauren women."

"You're sick."

"You're the one talking about an undead banshee's tits."

The orc ignored him and turned to the third member of their party, a bespectacled elf who admired the two with an amused grin on his face. "Well? You're an elf, surely you can tell the difference between your own kind."

The blood elf, scratching his chin, looked up at Sylvanas on her platform as she accepted a bracelet from a troll woman. Indeed her figure did seem to be slimmer than before, but that could potentially be the result of a change in armor specifications. Her face however...

"I don't know. Her face looks off but I can't get a decent look at her from under that hood. It's just about pitch black except for her eyes."

"She looks the same," the undead rasped. "Come on, I don't have all day. I've got Alliance to melt in the Barrens."

"Fine," the orc said. "Maybe you're right." Sparing one last look at Sylvanas, he averted his gaze when she suddenly locked eyes with him. "But do you think the rumors are true? About her being willing to suck your dick if you ask?"

"I think the rumors are true: you're an idiot."