[M] Let he who is without sin cast the first stone

Helotes Lykoi · 01-04-2012, 11:47 PM

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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Helotes Lykoi

Word Count → 528 :: Late morning

God DAMN he hurt. Every movement the dark Lykoi male made was tight and the fresh wounds on his body threatened to split loose with ever twist of the muscle. Thank the heavens that Halo had kept her teeth and claws to his upper body only, for he was sure that if his legs would have gone through the same meat grinder as his back that would he not be able to make the trek to the grottos. It was still very chilly today, and fresh snow clung to the ground. He made his way to the steamy core of the territory as quickly as he could, for the promise of a hot bath was very enticing.

The previous two nights had been physically exhausting on the male, but ever so satisfying. Two females in two nights; he felt pretty high and mighty indeed. But the second female, oh that cold bitch, she had torn him to shreds! Helotes reached up to his shoulder where the puncture wounds were still moist, seeping clear and watery pus in an attempt to protect his sensitive flesh below. Yes, the bath is what he needed, not only for the wounds but to reclaim his scent, which had been covered by the stench of Zana, Halo, and sex.

He knew he was close when he passed Zana’s old home, the hollow tree now cold and abandoned. She had taken on a ward, a gray pup named Timori, and her new burden had forced her to leave the comfort of the tree to take refuge in the mansion. Helotes was not complaining, he liked having her around, though she was not here now, having been away for the last two days and perhaps to remain so for a while. As he passed Helotes reached up to flick at a twisted spoon that was hanging from the tree, before turning from it and heading to his ultimate destination.

The mist became thick, almost like a solid mass, in the cold air. He could hear the earthy rumbling of the springs, could smell the deep must of the water, and soon he came to the edge of the steaming pool. He removed his metal tipped staff, which he had begun to always carry with him when out on his own, especially after the attack of the wolf. Setting his weapon on the bank, Helotes then slowly stepped into heat of the bubbling water. It felt heavenly. He lowered himself in, too quickly, and when the hot liquid hit his raw wounds he gasped. It stung something fierce. Shutting his eyes he quelled the pain, claimed it as his own, and waited until the water turned the stinging into numbness. He sighed then, letting his whole body, including his head immerse before surfacing again. He noticed that the heat had indeed caused some of his wounds to open, and blood stained the water near them. It was of no consequence, let them bleed, they would heal up. Though her violence had torn him deep, he doubted he would scar, it seemed as if he had been blessed with a hide that was immune to such things.

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