The Kitten and the Wolf
Chapter Ten- The Chase

It had been a few weeks since Dustman's Cairn.

Tilmo had tried to limit Di'kana to complete bed rest, but she was difficult to contain. Farkas himself had caught her once or twice sneaking out after the old maid had gone to bed for the night, simply too restless to stay confined to the novice quarters. He'd heard about even more outings from Aela and Skjor, who had taken to enabling the cat and encouraging her to work out the kinks. The catch was that she wasn't allowed any more potions; her own pain threshold kept her from doing anything too stupid and messing up the healing process. Aela was convinced it was helping her keep her strength up.

Farkas wouldn't argue with the method; Aela had done the same thing for him when he'd been laid up with his shoulder. Resting and taking the time to heal was one thing, but avoiding the pathetic weakness that came with too much rest was another thing that was just as important. The biggest danger to any warrior wasn't so much dying in combat as it was going soft after an injury and never properly taking up the sword again. The fact that Di'kana had once again picked up her warhammer was a good sign; she was healing up and she still had the fire she'd need to keep up with the others.

Farkas had been thinking of these things just as he was settling in for the night, loosening straps to get free of his bracers and breastplate. Di'kana had been on his mind more than he would have expected; she was pretty tough for a kitten. He'd admit it, he was among the people who thought most Khajiit were good for nothing but sneaking around and stabbing people in the back. Finding out just how small she was under that armor made it obvious that she was clearly a creature made for all that sneaky stuff... but instead she was here, trying to run with the warriors. She wasn't some freak Khajiit, simply better at hitting stuff than she was at sneaking around stuff. She wasn't trying to prove anything, either. She just liked fighting, so that's what she was doing.

Least, that was the feel he'd gotten for her.

His head popped up when he heard a knock at his door. That was odd; most everyone around here wouldn't bother to knock. Not even Tilmo; she just went wherever she liked, whenever she liked, in her constant crusade to keep Jorrvaskr clean. Aela would never knock; woman didn't have a polite bone in her body. After a few moments of thought, he had a guess of who it might be at his door.

"... Kitten?"

The door opened, a pink nose peeking its way in before the rest of her face followed, obsidian black fur lined in white streaks around bright blue eyes. Her ears were up, perked forward; she was in a good mood. Even his slight state of undress didn't seem to bother her, eyes flashing in a quick glance to his uncovered torso before returning to his face. "How did you know?"

"When did you ever know a dog to knock?" He asked with a chuckle. "Shouldn't you be resting?" He added, more teasing than actually reproaching her.

"Tilmo is sleeping." She said, as if she were speaking of a jail keeper rather than a caretaker. Still, there was glee in getting away with being up and about that was reflected in her voice. Every moment she got away with was a personal victory. "But if you do not like it, this one can go out to the yard instead."

"No, no." He gave her a slight wave, inviting her to let herself in. "Everyone else is enabling you, I might as well join in."

"Leaves your brother as the odd one out." She slipped past the door, revealing herself to be dressed in a rough tunic with a blue robe thrown over her shoulders as an after-thought. "Though I think it amuses him... so long as no one is hurt." Without asking she moved to sit on the end of his bed, pulling her legs up and under the robe and her tail curling up and over to rest across her knees. The tip hung down over the edge, giving a leisurely sway from side to side now and again.

"Vilkas is usually content to watch." He agreed while coming over himself. "Anyway... what brings you around, Kitten?"

"This one has a curiosity." She answered, watching him as he sat down on the other end of the bunk. Her eyes were intent upon him; he swore he knew that look. Bright, aware eyes that didn't miss the slightest twitch or shift. Put simply, he had her complete attention. "For some time, actually... tonight seemed as good a night to ask as any."

"What about...?" He cocked his head. "About the were-"

"This one knows all that she needs about that." She cut him off, not letting him jump to that conclusion. "Kodlak warned that I should not ask too many questions of any of you, and I will leave it at that. Secret things are best left alone." She paused a moment, one hand lifted as if she meant to reach out and paw at him. "You have... many scars."

"I do." He agreed, noticing that she was swapping between saying 'I' and calling herself 'this one'... a month of living closely with people who spoke in first person must have started effecting how she talked. Not that it mattered, but he noticed. "What about them?"

"Do you ever tell about them?" Her hand remained half outstretched, as if she had the urge to touch him but restrained herself from doing so. "Stories of how they got there? Or are these private, too?"

He watched her a moment, wondering why she'd ask. He was far from the only one with scars in the Companions, and most of the others were better at talking than he was. Vilkas was better at telling stories, so was Aela, hell even Skjor was better at it than he was. Why would she ask him? "Any particular one catch your eye?" He asked, lifting his arm to give her permission to reach out and touch like it seemed so sorely wanted to.

Both hands darted out instantly, one palm slipping under his forearm while fuzzy fingertips went and traced a long scar that ran from elbow to wrist. Her touch was light, curious, fascinated, with the only physical reminder of an old injury that was long since healed. "It's... interesting to see them like this. Makes this one curious, about all of them."

"I suppose, you can't really see scars on your kind, huh?" He found himself speaking softer for some reason, feeling the rasping drag of one of her claws on the scar tissue before she moved on to inspect a different mark. She turned his arm to go searching and found another one where it seemed something had bit him. If he remembered correctly, something had. He just didn't remember if it was a wild animal or one of the beasts from the Circle who'd left that mark.

"You can, if you know what to look for." She had also grown muted, focusing in on her tactile exploration of these old marks. "This one has many scars from many adventures, big and small. Di'kana would be willing to tell."

"Story for story, huh? Works for me... so what am I looking for?" He reached his other arm over to take hold of her hand and put a stop to her touching. There was something incredibly tender, almost intimate, about how she was stroking the damaged skin. He liked it, but part of him liked it way too much. What had happened to that modest, 'respectful' girl who hadn't been able to look at him before? This whole situation was incredibly forward compared to past behavior... not that he minded, but whatever part of him that was still human was at least trying to untangle the mixed signals.

With surprising finesse, she turned her hand in his grip and soon had his hand in her palm, pulling on him while shrugging the shoulder of her robe off. There, amid the black fur, were three streaks of white that ran from the top of her shoulder down the major muscle. They looked like they might have just been another part of her fur pattern, but she pressed his fingers to the markings. Under the fur was warm skin, some of which was ridged by old damage. "Bad scars grow back white. Lesser ones, gray. Not all of the markings are scars... but many."

"What's the story on this one?" He asked. She didn't have to hold him there; he identified the length and breadth of the marks by sense of touch. It was very similar to what she'd just been doing, though he was a little more heavy-handed. "...feels like something got you good."

"Indeed." She giggled with a slight nod. "A good thing to remember when fighting dragons; avoid the teeth. That was the very first time; defending Whiterun. This one thought to end things quickly once the beast was driven to the ground. Came in close and went for the throat, and it tried to close its jaws upon my shoulder. Tore the armor off, ripped the flesh... but my other arm was free, and my battleax had a long enough reach to finish things."

"Lucky." He commented, though that was an understatement. He saw the bones of that dragon after the fight; the thing must have had the strength to rip a man apart without thinking about it. The fact that she still had both arms was surprising. "Then again, if that's the same ax you stuck in my shoulder, I'm not surprised you took down a dragon with it."

One ear exhibited a twitch as her face changed slightly; given time he understood the expression as a slight pout. She reached out, giving him a playful shove for reminding her. "It is my turn, yes?" She asked, shrugging her robe back up and scooting a little closer to look him over. Doubtlessly she was looking for something that stuck out among the others, both hands playing over his skin as she tried to make her decision on which to ask about. She'd actually gotten up, slinking around him to get a view at his back before she made her decision. A single claw gently traced the leftovers of what was once a deep gash on his lower back, right side. "This one." She said, pressing her palm to it as she made her decision. "How did this one happen?"

"You know how you were just saying you should remember to avoid the teeth when fighting dragons?" He asked, looking over his shoulder to find her with that intent look on her face again. She'd begun gently rubbing at his back, expanding her purview from just scars to trying to work tension out of some of his muscles. One might have thought it would feel odd, but it was actually quite pleasing. She knew how to keep her claws out of the way while she worked, and her fur was a soft and pleasing sensation to go with the massage itself. "You should also remember never to take a hit from a giant while down on the ground. Aela and I were hunting one back when I was still practically a whelp. I got knocked down, she tried to lead it off, but it didn't quite work that way. It had some kind of fang or tusk driven through its club, punched in real good."

"You and Aela... are you close?" She asked, working her way up his back to his shoulders. She had strong hands for a cat.

"She's my Sister." He responded with a shrug. "Grew up together, we fight together; I trust her."

"But do you play together?"

"...Play?" He was looking at her again, twisting his body to interrupt her pampering and look her in the eye. "Is that why you came around to bother me, Kitten? You wanted to play?"

She looked so damn pleased with herself. Ears forward, face drawn into a smile, and those eyes. He knew that look from ones with the beastblood; the pure joy that came from letting go of inhibitions and embracing the animal. She didn't need beastblood to experience that, it seemed; it came naturally to her. Leaning in to nearly touch noses with him, she answered in a sly tone; "Life is short; enjoy it... within reason. This one does not want to disturb anything that already exists, but if it does not..." Her head dipped down, down to his shoulder. It was the one that she'd taken a piece out of the day they met. Her nose hovered over that specific scar, sniffing at it a moment before she gave it a long lick with her rough feline tongue, a purr rumbling up from her chest as she indulged in the action. When she looked up at him again, her eyes practically sparkled in the candlelight.

He wasn't sure what had sent the jolt through him; the rough feel of her tongue or the fact that a lick was so odd in his own concepts of affection. Even if he kept a beast, making love was something that had more bites and scratches than it did licking. He turned further, seizing her shoulders before she could make another move, new thoughts entering into his mind that were as interesting as they were strange. "Whoa, Kit..." He had to force himself in a deep breath; instinct encouraged everything that was happening here, but he couldn't just let things happen without letting her know exactly what she was playing with. "You don't tease a wolf."

She was still purring. Her neck stretched forward for her tongue to peek out again, licking his nose in a brazen display. "Khajiit don't tease... and this one considers you far more guilty of such things." She pushed against his grip, a single and sudden movement getting her free of his restrictive hold and both hands seizing upon him to shove him onto his back. "You, my dear wolf, are a treat for the senses. Wild, powerful..." Her head bent to his chest, nuzzling briefly and indulging in a long draw of breath through her nose. "It is not in this one's nature to resist such temptation, regardless of which direction it comes from... still tried, tried to be respectful, reasoned with the fear of rejection, denied with the need to stay busy, but in the end..." Her purr changed, becoming a heavy growl. "I still want you."

He didn't react right away. Perchance her confession had put him off balance. Maybe he wondered just how long she'd been looking at him that way. She didn't know, nor cared. She'd pulled her little body on top of his; her intentions had been made clear, and she saw no reason not to toy with him as she desired. One knee slipped over his hips, settling herself over him as her hands flattened to his stomach and pushed up to his chest. Did he know how this was for her? To be able to touch what she'd been thinking about for nearly a month now? After waiting and watching, she'd finally taken it upon herself to begin the chase.

She didn't expect it to last long.

A surprised yelp escaped her as he was suddenly upright again, his hands slipping under the robe and taking hold of her. The power of his grip was pleasing, but his intent was still a question. Under this confidence, doubt still existed in her. The worry of possible rejection may not have stopped her from trying, but it was still there; a quiet terror that he'd dismiss her over the difference in race. Did he hold her only because he planned to shove her off and demand that she leave? A second's hesitation was a lifetime of waiting, possible despair causing her ears to twitch downwards.

Instead his heavy hands moved to remove the robe from her shoulders, letting it fall off of the edge of his bunk. Those same hands came back a mere moment later, tugging at the tunic she wore to remove it from her person. Her hands took over for his as she yanked it up and over her head, excitement bubbling up where her anxieties had threatened to sink her only seconds before. The moment the tunic was gone her head dipped down again, looking to taste him and nuzzle along the bottom of his jaw. Instinct pushed her in several different directions; part of her wanted him lay bare before her, another wanted him ruthlessly on top of her, yet another was looking to tease and toy with him until he simply couldn't resist her anymore, and all of these suggestions sounded delightful. Which one to chase, however, provided a long enough hesitation that he made his own move.

He'd gone for her undergarments; a simple cloth bra that covered more than it supported was soon done away with, and none-too-gently. As soon as it was loose he pushed her back to pull it free. In the dim light his hands went along the white of her stomach and chest, soon cupping the modest womanly growth she had and watching as she reacted by returning to her soft purring. With a nod she encouraged him to rub her, but he'd been distracted by something else.

One hand reached up higher, to a necklace that still rested on her. An amulet that had been hidden by her tunic, tucked away and forgotten. "What's this?" He asked.

She'd forgotten she'd been wearing that amulet of Mara. She'd been wearing it since she joined the Companions. Silence struck her; what words that came to her were not in common.

"Is this how your kind tests out partners?" He asked when she didn't answer right away.

"N-No!" She finally mastered her tongue, reaching for the amulet with the intent of slicing through the twine that held it to her neck with a quick claw. She didn't want to be thinking about those things right now; tenderness and love were not her goals. Tonight was about lust, desire, pleasure.

He caught her hand before she could cut it, what could have been crushing strength simply holding her at bay while his eyes requested an explanation for why she was wearing such a thing.

"It is... a reminder." She managed out after a moment. "A reminder that life is short."

For a moment she felt as if her heart would pound its way right out of her chest as he scrutinized her and the amulet. He'd taken less than a moment to do so, but for her time had slowed to the point where she could count each throbbing beat of her breast. Would he accept her? Did he think wearing the amulet without sincerely looking for a partner was sacrilege? Was this just the thing he needed to reject her because making love to a woman with a tail and fur was just too weird?

He released her hand, now frozen and its intent forgotten. His own fingers moved to pick up the pendant and press his lips to it before laying it back on her chest. "... so we should enjoy it, right?"

She answered him with an affectionate nuzzle, pressing her face along his jaw and neck. Her hands had returned to his body, pulling herself close to him. Her purring resumed as his hands started at her shoulders and rubbed down her back, roughly scratching into fur that was short and thin over her skin because her constant choice to wear heavy armor pulled out longer strands over time. Her back was speckled with silver as lost fur grew back whiter and whiter. The muscles underneath were glad for such heavy attention; hard and lean cords that relaxed and melted under his rough palms. Her chest against his, nose buried into the rough crop of hair he allowed to hang wild around his shoulders, the whole of her being seemed to exist in the pure bliss of a single moment. His hands then moved over her rump, and the reminder of her passion and desire had her playfully biting at his shoulder.

"Do you want help getting the rest of that armor off?" It took her a moment to ask the question, losing her mind to her native tongue as much more primal things became the focus. Still, she wanted him bare for her, free to rub every part of his body with every part of her own.

Part of her didn't want to ask the question at all, and simply rip through the leather straps with her talons.

"... ahem."

Both of them reacted with shock, realizing someone had intruded on Farkas's room without either of them noticing. Di'kana's instinct was to pull back, to twist away and run, but Farkas's seemed to be instincts of a more protective sort that had his arms wrapped around her back and pressing her into his chest as if to shield her. While their bodies were at odds, their eyes had both landed upon the interloper.

Aela stood with her hand still on the door, looking as if she couldn't quite figure out what she was seeing, or how to react to it. She seemed completely dumbfounded; a rare state if there ever was one.

The silence was so painful it felt as if it could have been deadly. Farkas lost his shock first, growling out a "...yes?" To prompt Aela into some kind of action, be it to explain her presence or leave.

"I... was..." The woman shook her head, though she didn't have the tact to turn her eyes away from them. "Looking for Di'kana."

"Well you found her. And she's busy."

Divines damn her, that voice! With the way he held her one ear was against him, feeling the rumble of his glowering tone. Shocked, embarrassed at being caught, but nothing could kill her fire for him right now. Even the slight ache of her sore ribs under his grip couldn't take her out of the lustful haze that had brought her here in the first place.

"I see that. See you don't break her all over again, eh?" With that she finally began to retreat, a faint dash of pink showing up under her warpaint as what she'd walked in on finally sunk in. "Carry on... and maybe think about locking the door!"

"... it has a lock?" Di'kana asked, almost absently, as the door snicked shut.

"Never use it." His eyes had shifted back to her, wearing a grin that could only be described as wolfish. His arms loosened for his hands to once again grip her under her rear. "Now then... where were we, Kitten?"

~Fin Part One

Look out for part two, Mixing Beastblood!

I don't own Skyrim

-Loor