It's Cold And It's Broken

The moment Alastor's paw touched Relm's back, he expected to feel her tense up, her muscles going rigid, some show that she didn't want him here or that she was afraid of him. He received no such response from the pink fae. Instead, Relm began to lie down in front of him, offering up her back for him to touch at his leisure. The girl's tail tucked into herself, somewhat masking the spicy scent that flowed from her, though not entirely. He still appreciated the efforts she made. Neither one of them wanted to goad or antagonize the other, it seemed, even if it was an impossibility. Alastor was a hair's breadth away from being a feral animal and Relm was in estrus. It was only his self-control that kept him sane, and all the gods in heaven and demons in hell knew how hard he fought to remain in control for her. For her. The thought was almost humorous to the dire wolf. He seldom did anything for anyone outside of his own interests, but Relm was different. She saw him as something different. Gods knew why...

Slowly the massive brute ran rough paw pads over the raised skin of the scars he'd left behind on Relm's body. He quietly wondered how she felt about them. Was she ashamed? Embarrassed? How would his actions impact the rest of her life? When she was meeting new wolves or lying with future lovers and they asked about her scars, how would she explain them away? Would she tell them a giant wolf tried to impregnate her, or would she lie to defend what shreds of dignity he had left? Relm made Alastor ask questions he never would have before. He'd maimed, crippled, murdered countless wolves and other animals before without a second thought. She was the only one he looked back on his handiwork with some shame. Had she been a virgin before he'd fucked her? Alastor hadn't had the courage to ask. If that was her first experience with sex... The dark wolf forced those thoughts away with a scowl.

His mammoth paw continued its trail until it reached the bottom of her spine—then continued further down. Course paw pads traced over her while sharp claws very carefully parted her midnight black fur. His paw only stopped moving once Relm spoke, saying she trusted him. He glanced back up at her with his seemingly empty voids of eyes, his paw resting just above the base of her tail, mere inches from her rump. What had he been doing? Where was his paw going with its intentions? Alastor had gotten so lost in his own thoughts that he'd been absentmindedly stroking Relm. He was glad he'd stopped when he did; he didn't want to cause her any further trauma than he'd already done. Relm spoke again, suggesting that she wear her cape around the pack more. Alastor's eyes narrowed with displeasure and he gave a brusque shake of his head. "No. You never need to wear that cape again," he spoke in his low growled baritone voice. "You don't have to hide yourself anymore." Alastor then slowly slid his paw back up her back, tracing some of the scars along the small of her back and away from where he'd been going. With Kefka dead, Relm never again had to hide herself away. He wouldn't allow himself to be the cause of her hiding to resume.

"Alastor Mendacium"