The Wolf at the Door

DISCLAIMER: there are no furries in this story, soz.

In the dark of winter the dead and the savage roam the lands, that was what my grandfather told me. It's not just the cold that is dangerous and biting.

How strange would he find it then, to see my eager anticipation of winter's depths. How would his lip curl to see me, a man of more than 30 summers but without a family, waiting each night for the return of my wild mistress. I knew very well that savages roam the land in winter, and if the dead did too then my grandfather would get the opportunity to shake his pale fist at me once again.

When snow piled high, and rime blasted the branches of trees into twisted sculptures, and the air was so cold that it would wet my beard with my own breath, that's when I knew she would return to me. I couldn't fathom what would lead someone to migrate in such a season; nowhere could be worse than this desolate and isolated place in winter. If there was such a place then it wasn't fit for humans to live. I couldn't even imagine thinking of my shallow valley as a refuge from the icy cold. But for her it was.

Loud thudding impacts at my door jerked me from reflection. BOOM BOOM BOOM. No more than three and no less, always. My heart leapt to my throat. I rose to my feet and picked up the axe I had left next to the fireplace. A small thing, and probably useless, but the ritual would not feel right without it.

When I opened the wooden door a flurry of snow blew in, and warm air leaked out of my cabin into the swirling hibernal night. A hulking figure filled the doorway, wolfskin fur bristling at its shoulder, firelight flickering over a square jaw and tattooed lips. She was taller than me, and wider in her furs and padded cloak. Mirrored to mine, a large axe was clutched in one hand.

Intense yearning spilled over the barriers I held up to hope and fear alike. She was here. I felt weight settle in my heart again at seeing that fiercely beautiful face once more. It was soon followed by a tightening in my loins in anticipation of what was to come. But not just yet, first we would enact a bittersweet recreation of our first meeting.

Our eyes were locked onto each other. First, two steps to one side and I slowly set down my axe against the wall of the cabin. Then I offered her meat and a hunk of spelt bread, placed in the same wooden plate as usual, though the hand that offered it to her trembled not with fear but impatience. She followed two steps behind me, close but not too close. Her axe rested bladed-end down next to mine. Mine was a tool for chopping woodland, hers had a little more heft to it. She took the food and ate quickly, efficiently. The grunt of satisfaction escaped her without her lips moving. Her long tresses swung about as she turned to shut the door behind her. Golden red topped with fresh white snow. I felt my own hunger grow.

She swept her keen gaze over the interior of my cabin, brown eyes taking in all details. Satisfied with either whatever she was or wasn't looking for, she locked onto me again.

"Sit."

Her voice was heavy and raspy, as if rarely used. She didn't speak much of my language, and hadn't spoken any the first time we met. In the dull summer months I liked to fantasize that she had learned it for me, but I knew that was foolishness.

The hulking figure didn't wait for me to comply, and started moving towards me, her hands picked at her waist. She stepped and I had to shuffle backwards to keep ahead of her. Her boats trailed snow onto my wooden floor. In this part of our dance she led and I was herded; physically blocked and manoeuvred like cattle.

The fur parka dusted with frost came unwrapped, and then was shaken off and discarded onto the floorboards along with the wolfskin cloak. Her gloves were next to be thrown onto that pile. Then another layer of leather was discarded. And another. With each item of clothing removed the aura of bestial savagery faded. The wolf at the door was transforming into a familiar, shapely woman. I knew not to trust that perception of her either, but it was one that soon would be mine to touch and savour.

Under her boots were a thick pair of socks, and under those another thinner pair that came up to her knees and were bound there by narrow leather straps. By the time I was comfortably sitting back in the solitary wicker chair, she only wore those long socks and her undergarments. Little more than a long strip of cloth wrapped over her breasts, and another wrapping around her hips. Her lips twitched upwards in what could have been a quarter smile. Her version of an indulgent invitation.

I grinned back at her, baring my teeth widely. She remembered how much I enjoyed undressing her when I got the opportunity to. As welcome a gift as I had ever received, even though it might seem such a trivial thing. One long stride and she was in front of me. Another powerful flexing of her legs and she had one foot on the armrest of the chair. Leaning a hand on her knee, she stood over me with legs wide, waiting.

Months of longing made my movements hasty and urgent. Finally feeling her body under my fingers was like ambrosia to me. I swept my hands over the 'stockinged' calf she was half straddling me with, and then up, and up, and all over her. Parts of her skin were warm to the touch and other parts still bore winter's chill. It made no difference to me. I wouldn't flinch or hesitate. I couldn't.

The warmest part of her was between her legs, with a noticeable dampness to the wrappings covering her up. I kissed her inner thigh, promising her what lavish attention my mouth and tongue give to her every day in the coming weeks. As I did so I scrabbled at the wraps covering her. The firm but heavenly curve of her buttocks was just as I remembered it. I tore the knots from the cloth but moved to free her breasts without unravelling her lower parts first. My mind was splintered in two: needing to strip her now, but revelling in the sensations sparking within me from exploring her body.

My wolf grew impatient at my indecisiveness and quickly took over from me, batting my hands out of the way to untie the final barriers to her nudity. She was glorious, body both hardened and soft at the same time. I didn't have time to admire it properly, that could come later.

I ran my fingers up her thighs and found rich velvety wetness at their apex. I groaned and rubbed fervently through her slick folds. A hand clamped down onto my shoulder and kneaded the flesh there in a tight grip, echoing the movements of my own fingers. She made rumbling noises of approval in her throat and pushed her hips towards me, still posed in a high lunge to give me access.

After a few seconds of stimulation she said, "Good," and closed her eyes, tilting her head up and away from me. She was getting wetter by the second, and as I was awkwardly untying my own trousers with my other hand, a drop of warm fluid slipped off her and stained them. I bared my throbbing, painfully hard length, hoping that she would drop down directly onto it. I could have pulled at her and directed her to sit on top of me and join our sexes together, but that would have taken seconds of movement. Far easier to lean forwards as I pulled on her ass, and put my hungry lips on her soaking pink ones.

She was sour and sweet and delicious as a piece of ripe fruit. And just like I was indulging in a peach, I slaked both my thirst and hunger on her, as juices spilled over my lips and ran down my chin. She gasped in surprisingly feminine shock, but ground her hips against my face without pausing. We both needed this; had been deprived of this for too long.

Lost in kissing and licking and sucking at her most intimate parts, I was caught off guard when she suddenly pushed me backwards. I hit the back of the chair and watched her hop her feet up onto the seat deftly, squeezing next to my thighs. She was over me and then astride me, crouched just inches away from joining us together. She rubbed herself with one hand, spread the resulting wetness over the head of my manhood and then she sank her full weight down on top of me. I moaned again, the noise forced out of me. Soft heat engulfed me and then gripped me.

My breathing was heavy and laden with involuntary noises of adulation, so my mouth was wide open when she thrust her fingers inside it. I sucked on them instinctively, the taste of her cunt renewed on my tongue. Those same fingers next dipped past her own tattooed lips, and that sharing of her juices and my spit was all the 'kissing' we exchanged before she started to ride me like I was her stallion and she was fleeing some wicked spirit. It was hard and fast from the moment she began to move her hips, and she held me steady so she might drive my hardness into her as she needed. Carnal bliss. Savage pleasure.

She alternated between riding me hard up and down, forcing groans from us both with every wet withdrawal and then slamming back down, and rocking her hips back and forth with my cock fully impaling her. Rubbing herself backwards and forwards seemed to give her much more intense stimulation, if her expression and the force of her nails digging into my flesh were anything to go by, but it seemed like she couldn't decide what she needed most and had to keep alternating. And I didn't mind being used for her to slake her thirst. It was a show unlike any other.

Her wet heat and fervent, dominant movements soon overwhelmed me. My savage mistress and I didn't exactly wring promises of chastity from one another, but I at least had lost interest in anyone else but her. I like to think that she felt the same, and our long companionable winters supported that idle fantasy. But the only thing I knew for sure was that it had been many months since I'd experienced her rapturous tightness. She let out a long howling hum and her eyes rolled underneath fluttering lids. I moaned at the sight and felt the last of my self control melt away. I clung to her and shook as her warmth milked my seed deep inside her.

She either didn't care or didn't notice that I had climaxed, and I tried to do the same. It wasn't such a difficult task to stay hard for her in the fires of our passion. I coaxed her body up and down, teased her nipples and made sure she could feel my grip on her exposed skin. Her juices mingled with the torrent I had unleashed in her and dripped out between our coupling. She built up to a much quicker pace, still alternating movements and humming guttural noises too. If this were any day other than this one I would have taken my cue to reach down and pressure the top of her soaking slit, something that I had gotten very accustomed to doing in the way that she preferred. But not this time; not the first time. I encouraged her and pinched her and held our weight steady. She fucked herself onto me until her body found the stimulation and pleasure that it craved.

My wandering barbarian who barely spoke any civilised tongue and spent most of her time under the sky or the stars had proven that she could learn from me. She had adapted to me and my ways, and had softened greatly over the years from that harsh, untrusting woman I had first met on a winter's eve such as this one. But she hadn't really changed much. It was just that her edges had softened, and that she mostly let her guard down enough to relax around me. Not always though. When she was hunting there was never any trace of the woman I had grown to care deeply for. And when she climaxed there was nothing refined or thoughtful or empathetic about her. She tightened and squeezed and thrashed like an animal moving only on instinct. And when her eyes opened afterwards there was barely any recognition inside those pale green-ringed orbs. She wasn't strictly selfish or cruel, and would delight in teasing and stroking me until I exploded over her or in her or even all over myself. But her own trembling climaxes were never anything but an earnest seizing of all the pleasure she could hold. It was glorious to behold.

Her wet hair stuck to my cheeks as she straddled me. The fire cracked and spat in one ear whilst her ragged breath filled the other. She whispered something but the crackle of the fire disguised the noise. It didn't matter, I don't think she was talking to me anyway.

I felt that it would be all too easy to just fall asleep right there: sticky and blissful and exhausted from our exertions. But my pride and my lust shunned that temptation. I held the most powerful, beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my arms; it would be shameful to let her just fuck us both so quickly to sleep. I moved my body against hers slowly. She rumbled in her throat and shifted her weight to accommodate my wandering hands and a renewed rubbing between our lower halves. Her nipples stiffened to deliciously hard peaks that dragged over my chest. I heard her chuckle softly as I explored her backside and the wet holes below.

"More?" she whispered into my ear, and the jolt of need and lust it stirred in me made my cock twitch and pulse. She laughed again, clenching back at me and squeezing my manhood between her hot inner walls. I growled at her and she bit down onto my earlobe in response. I slapped her muscular arse and she squeezed me again, tighter, as if she wanted to try and crush me. I took hold of her and steadied myself to pick her up into my arms, and she dug her nails into my back and encouraged me with hissed words in both our languages.

With no mean effort I rose to my feet and held her weight against me. I still worked to feed myself and care for the house and land; I wasn't exactly a weakling. No one could be in this place and survive for long. Even still, her weight and strength were not easy to match or handle so. In general I think we were fairly evenly matched in strength, despite her slight height advantage. Though in a fight or any direct contest I think both of us would expect her to win. She came from a harsher place still, and had the feral mentality and aggression to match. It felt good to remind her that I was still a man and still capable of using my strength in our mating, even if only temporarily. I carried her over to my simple bed and deposited her on it.

She sank down onto her back and that told me she was in a happy mood, and content to let me direct things for now. If it were otherwise I would have known about it very quickly! Cockily I brushed two fingers through her slippery folds, watching her reaction. She smiled toothily up at me and merely gasped quietly when I stiffened them up and pushed into her hole directly. I was too impatient to play one of our teasing contests or service her properly with fingers and mouth, so I promised it with my eyes and a demonstration of how practised my fingers were with stroking the right spots, even after all this time. I tugged on her hip until she rolled enough for me to pull on and flip over. She got quickly up onto her hands and knees, and we both shifted to line ourselves up properly with one another. I didn't have to guide my length into her this time; I penetrated her quickly and almost without effort.

We both shifted around a little more after that, getting comfortable without wasting time apart. I didn't rush or slam into her right away, as much as my instinct screamed at me. I wanted to take her, claim her and make her body bounce off mine once more. But more than that I wanted to drink this experience in completely. We had used each other to cum; now we had the chance to revel and reexplore one another. The menace and tension had been broken, and there was time enough now fuck as humans and not just as animals.

After some warming up and experimental deep thrusts, she straightened up and curled one muscular arm back around my head, drawing me down for our lips to meet. I could barely thrust inside her from this position but it was a small price to pay to finally feel her lips on mine. I knew that she had an unpredictable tendency to sink her teeth suddenly and savagely into my lips or tongue when kissing, seemingly just for her own entertainment or on passionate and violent impulse, so it was always a risky indulgence. But her tongue was supernaturally soft and dextrous and strong, and the moments of tender connection I felt from the trust in such an act were far too powerful to resist. It was always worth a little blood. She was always worth a little pain.

This was a different game however. I could feel her smiling as she pushed back against me, her sweaty back pressing on my chest and her thighs stable and strong. I felt her intent and smiled back through our kissing. I took the opportunity to fondle her breasts and tease her nipples, but we both knew that it was a momentary distraction. She was deliberately restricting me, and provoking me to show her how much I was or was not content with these cramped thrusts. Without giving her any warning I shoved hard into her shoulders. She fell forwards and my hand followed her, pressing my weight and strength into her spine before she had balance and a solid base to resist. I felt her push back but I didn't relent and forced her down. This wasn't purely a contest of strength though, I just needed her low enough to properly fuck.

This game of me forcing her down, and fucking her into submission was something we both enjoyed.I proved to her, and myself, that I was worthy of taking her. That I could rise to the challenge of such a mate. Nothing else compared to that. No one else compared.

Opening her up with my cock and driving in to the hilt made a wet sucking sound that didn't exactly harmonize sweetly with our moans of pleasure. But it still sounded perfect to me. I quickly started to saw in and out of her, but didn't just frantically hump away. I needed to be deep more than anything. I wanted her to feel my filling her up and pushing so deep inside her body that her spirit would feel my intrusion. The curve of her back and the excited noises she was making made me take the risk of releasing my weight on her directly and shifted my grip to her firm arse. She flicked her hips to force me to pick up the pace a little, but didn't buck against me or fight. I opened her up some more by peeling her amazing cheeks outward, and managed to get a fraction deeper on my next thrust.

Soon we were breathing and gasping and groaning in a rhythmic duet. My thighs slapped against her, and accompanied the slightly numbing impacts of my balls on her sticky slit. She whined and pushed back against me. I leaned my whole weight down through my arms so that we could balance both of our movements against one another and not collapse. We reached some equilibrium that let us both burn off the excess fire in our veins even as more built up between us.

Surprisingly she gave out beneath me quite quickly and abruptly. She screamed my name, which I couldn't remember her ever doing before, and collapsed from her knees into a fully prone position that shook beneath me. Her hands curled into the fur blanket and gripped tight fistfuls. Her cunt gripped my shaft just as tightly. I was a little shocked but not so much that I froze up. I pulled on her matted golden hair just as she liked in this position, and rammed myself in and out of her until her orgasm made her completely slump into stillness.

She just lay there, breathing heavily, eyes closed. I was stunned. It had never been so easy to exhaust her before. She had never seemed so content and happy to relinquish control to me so quickly. With confusion and a conflicted heart I slowly pulled my hard cock out of her. Was she just done? Why wasn't she poised to twist round and launch straight into another bout? Was I really contemplating laying down beside her and falling asleep? It felt like some line had been crossed. Something had changed. At least with her and possibly between us both. My stomach did a flip that made me very nervous but filled me with warmth.