The werewolf's tongue licked her leg, sampling the dried fluids there. Ardour's thighs were coated with a night's worth of its prodigious spend, which had run from her in rivulets when the invading knot had finally been withdrawn. She had been barely conscious at that point and she had drifted in and out of sleep between then and now.
The tongue dabbed away diligently at the cloyed sticky mess, its progress agonisingly slow and meticulous as it worked up her right thigh and then switched over to her left to repeat its efforts there. Was the creature cleaning her now? How long had she been unconscious?
Ardour tried to open her eyes but found them glued shut with either sleep gunk or something worse. She suspected it might be her own cum. Embarrassing. Her arms were too tired to move yet, so she had to live with it.
The tongue finished finally with her legs. She thought she heard a splash of water, then it came back to probe at her sex. Her balls were sticky, prickly, and felt... bruised, which must have been from the pummelling they'd taken from the werewolf's own weighty sack. That thought sent a shudder through her, though she couldn't have said whether it was revulsion or guilty excitement.
At least this new treatment was much gentler, wetting and cleaning in small dabbing motions, almost reverential. Her hot irritated flesh practically hissed under the cooling wetness. Her cock was beginning to stir by the time it was reached and it swelled under the ministrations, lengthening such that each lick up from the bottom of the shaft had to travel a little further to soothe her irritated flesh. Ardour tried to groan in relief, but found her dry lips glued together as well. She was a
mess
.
The tongue went away again for a while, apparently unwilling to linger on her cock, then came back to seek out the dried fluids on her belly. There was less mess here and it was all her own spend rather than the werewolf's incredible contribution but it still took its time moving up her flat stomach, bathing her thoroughly. Her breasts were aching in anticipation by the time it reached them but she found herself almost disappointed by the tenderness of the cleaning, light delicate dabs that did not dwell over-long. Her swollen nipples, clean enough but practically begging for attention, were avoided.
Ardour tried to stir, but her limbs were still too tired to move much. Her legs felt like dead weight, she wasn't sure if she could imagine ever walking again after the bending, stretching and pummelling the werewolf had given her lower body last night. But now it delicately and diligently cleaned her hands, her forearms, her shoulders, then her collarbone.
The tongue went away again and there was another mysterious splash. It reappeared between her legs, cold and soaking wet, dabbing at her abused and inflamed entrance. It was unexpected enough that she gasped, lips cracking painfully as they finally unglued from each other. She tried to move her legs to shuffle away from the intruding tongue but they just shook impotently.
Her cock was hard, her skin flushed and breathing rapid. The Itch was smoldering within her again, awakening from its briefly satiated sleep. But she didn't want this, did she? Zarel's monstrous attentions had left her battered and broken. Another round might finish her off.
Ardour wetted her dry lips and summoned up a protest. A plea.
"No more..." her voice was hoarse and her throat parched. "Please..."
The tongue withdrew at once. There was movement, more sounds of splashing water. She pictured the werewolf repositioning itself, ready to take her again.
Something cool and damp dabbed at her eyelids, cleaning away the sticky mess gluing them closed. Bleary red eyes opened, then widened in recognition. Ardour managed a huffing sigh of relief.
"Sorry, I didn't think you'd wake up yet."
Aavi was there, holding a sponge dripping with clean water. He was illuminated by the early morning sunlight slanting in sideways through the open door, giving his pale features a golden cast. Ardour felt a strange tug at her breast, an ache that was not the Itch. He really was very beautiful.
He was blushing now. She wondered if he'd read her guileless expression, then remembered the rather intimate sponge bath he'd been delivering while she 'slept'. Her hard cock was pointing right up at him, accusing. She only realised they'd been staring at each other for too long when he wrenched his gaze away and started noisily searching through his pack.
"Here..." Aavi produced a waterskin and held it to her lips, gently lifting her head to help her drink.
The water was the slightly brackish stuff from the well outside, but right then it tasted like the purest spring. Ardour drank deeply, washing away the dust and dryness of her night on the sandy stone floor. She could feel the cool morning air now too. It was still early, but she must have slept for a good few hours. She wondered where the werewolf had gone.
Finally the water was all gone. Aavi's hand lingered under her head, making for a better pillow than the unyielding floor. He took up the sponge again.
"Let me finish cleaning you up?"
It had the tone of a question, so she nodded as best she could. While he worked on cleaning the dirt, sweat and dried seed from her face, Ardour took stock of her condition. Her back and neck ached from lying on the hard ground for hours. Her limbs were still leaden and weak. Her ass throbbed, raw and sore and hot from the werewolf's violation. Her skin was prickly and a little feverish, particularly where the creature's cursed seed had dried.
She should have felt much worse, though. She wasn't bruised enough, nothing was bleeding. Strangely, she couldn't feel the terrible itching heat of the endless corrupting cum that the Itch-crazed werewolf had rutted into her for hours.
"Did you..." her voice was a little stronger now, though her sleepy mind was struggling to supply the words, "...do something?"
"I healed you," Aavi confirmed quietly, "and purged what I could."
He'd done something similar for her before when he'd made that promise, his paladin oath. But this seemed stronger, more practiced.
"Huh..."
Ardour lay still and let him fuss over her for a bit, enjoying the cool damp sponge. Eventually he was finished and she stirred enough to look around the room. They were alone.
"Where's Zarel?"
"I don't know." There was an odd edge to Aavi's voice that she couldn't quite interpret. "She left before dawn."
"You didn't follow her." It was a statement, but also a question.
"No, I didn't." Was he angry? Frustrated? Why?
"Aavi, what-" she began, but he cut her off.
"I'm sorry." He let out a shaky sigh and continued. "I'm sorry I got you into this. I'm sorry about what she did to you, I don't know why..."
He trailed off for a moment, not noticing Ardour's uncomprehending stare, then pressed on. It sounded a bit stiff, like he'd been rehearsing in his head.
"I'm sorry I didn't help until Zarel left. And I'm sorry she ran off and left me to say all this..."
Aavi stopped again, finally noticing the baffled look on Ardour's face. Suddenly she wasn't enjoying his hand cradling her head. She hauled herself up to a sitting position with a groan, putting some distance between them.
"What did she do?"
Her tone was more provocative than she intended. Ardour could see he was unbalanced by the question.
"Well... she raped you..." Aavi's distaste for the word was clear, even as he projected his usual compassion and sympathy. For once, it wasn't comforting.
"Did she..."
Where to even begin with this? It was a stark reminder that the Abbey boy lived in a very different world than hers.
Ardour shuffled back to rest against a wall and considered. Had she wanted to get fucked by an eight foot tall werewolf with a dick the size of her own forearm? Not particularly at first. But she'd been getting into the idea by the time the fucking actually started, and she'd certainly managed her own share of climaxes. Plus the Itch had a way of making this type of thing ok - once the lust descended it didn't much care who you were fucking or how, a small mercy maybe.
And she'd been grappling the werewolf to protect Aavi, letting Zarel fuck her instead was a good distraction and kept her away from him. Ardour would rather think of that as something she'd had a say in, a good tactical choice. Not something that had been done to her.
And
