Taking Care of Wulfe

Master saw his pet today, and I quietly did the laundry while he took care of Pet. What they do behind that door is none of my concern, and I have an active enough imagination without wondering what exactly happened to….I hold up a nightshirt that has several tears and stains. I feel my face grow red, and I squeak. Oh, my. Wow, go Master, and I’m sure Pet enjoys every minute of your care. No, bad Mise, don’t think such thoughts. Finish washing the linens and hang them to dry, then go check on the wolf.

Unfortunately, washing linens is a task that only distracts the body, so my mind wanders once more. I thought of when Head Madame pulled me aside and told me of my new position.

“It’s an easy one, all you have to do is clean a room and tend to the Master’s pet. The old caretaker was incompetent and was fired, and the Master likes how you work. Do a good job and you can probably retire early enough in your years to raise children at home.” Hah. Imagine my surprise when I opened the door and was pinned by a giant wolf. I squeaked, went white, and fainted. I woke up much later, and Hisoka-sama was tending me. She was the loveliest woman I’d ever seen, her hair a fall of scarlet, her eyes deep purple. She was extremely gentle with me, and I wondered where she’d come from, and where the giant wolf had gone.

Ah, that was the last of the linens. Well, time to haul them outside and hang them. Except when I open the door I’m met by a downfall of rain so thick it looks like fog. I string some hemp rope from one end of the wash room to the other, and create a mini maze with walls of drying cloth. That will have to do, I’m afraid. I wind my way out, and leave the wing for the kitchens to see what food scraps I could salvage for myself, and what great meal was in store for the Wolf.

Where was I? Oh, Yes. Hisoka-sama. I was surprised to find out that the giant wolf, who was the one I would be tending, was not the Master’s Pet. Hisoka-sama was. After a while, I learned the whole story, which is theirs to tell or secret away as they please. I was to tend the rooms, mind the laundry and food, and take care of the wolf. Ah, they had sesame honey cakes for dessert tonight, and the cook saved me three. Nice enough man, for a troll. I pocketed them, and grabbed the rope handle on the large crate. Whispering the words to my very small knowledge of spells, I levitated it about an inch off the floor, which made my task of carting it to the beast that much easier.

I snagged a small rind of cheese, and a few ends of leftover bread for my supper, and began tugging and navigating my way back to the Forbidden Wing. A young scullery maid stopped me just long enough to slip me an apple, one of the first harvests. I could hear the twitters and gossips behind me; see the Main House servants sneaking peeks while bent over in pretenses of tasks. I was an oddity, a peculiar entity to them. I was drab, pale, and not very robust or strong, and I was the only one tending the Forbidden Wing. Which, depending on the week, was anything from a hall of bloodthirsty and flesh craving ghouls to a hidden paradise that rivals the tales of Eden’s Garden. That or the real Treasury, although everyone knows the Master keeps his riches in a secret hole somewhere.

Now, I heard my name just now. Although, they keep getting it wrong. My name is Mise. Mee-ss. Yet, everyone calls me Mouse, as if I were some small rodent with small black eyes and large ears and a pink nose with whiskers. True, when startled, I tend to squeak in a manner most tiny, and I was shorter than the average Servants here, being a mere 5 feet 2 inches as opposed to the standard 5 feet 7 inches most women here are. Even the girls my age top my by an inch or three. As for the men, well, let’s just say if their nice they just pick me up and put me on a high ledge. My eyes are not black, they are a shade of blue I think is called periwinkle. My hair is pale brown, braided, and pinned up out of my way. My figure is not eye-catching, but I’m no twig without curves! I have a nice enough bust, even if it’s hidden beneath shapeless wear.

Ah, the wolf can smell me coming; he’s started scratching at the door. I listen as his scratches turn into knocks, and an impatient voice calls for me to hurry up. I sigh, and give the crate a last tug. Just another night for Mise the mouse, and her lifetime commitment to the Forbidden Wing, and all it inhabits.

Oh, about the last servant who worked here, he tried to take Hisoka-sama during a night Master didn’t visit, and was eaten alive by Wolf. Hence why they went with a girl this time.

-end Mise's narrative, beginning of tale-

Mise opened the door to the dank, dungeon room. The room looked as if the last inhabitant was tossed in here to die slowly over time, and was instead eaten by the large wolf eyeing her now. Tentively, she pulled the giant crate between the beast and herself.

“I don like it when ye change back an forth so fast.” Her voice was soft, much like dandelion puffs dancing on the wind. The wolf growled low in it’s throat, and began to shift. The growl changed into a deep chuckle, and a hand appeared on the corner of the crate. Golden eyes stared down at her, and the man smiled in a quiet way of a predator.

“Why ever so? I am just so very hungry, and the lass they have carting me my food is so very slow in getting it to me.” Her head snapped up and she gave a small glare even as she tried to hide around the other side of the crate.

“It’s not me fault! I am th’ on’y one who can git the food ‘ere, an’ it’s heavy! Levitation on’y goes so far!” He leaned back, and smiled even broader, showing large fangs.

“Little lass has teeth, and uses them well, even if she’s hiding as she does so.” Mise flushed and ducked out of the room as he ripped the top off the crate. She learned early on what kind of meals the wolf ate, and they were the kind that were served raw and bloody. Sometimes, they weren’t even all the way dead, and she caught the sound of slight screams.

Later, she came back with her own supper to eat. He liked watching her eat, so she made sure to do it in full view. In the room he really used, which was to the left as you entered, Mise made herself comfortable in the middle of the floor. Sitting tailor fashioned on the cushions that were heaped about in his room, she pulled out a honey cake and offered it to him. He looked at her, and she quietly told him she had two more; one for Pet and one for herself. He took it with a nod, and tore bites, chewing slowly while she ate her own dinner of bread, cheese, and apple. She was very thorough, and fished the apple to the point that only the seeds were left. She pocketed them, intent on saving them for the Orchard Farmer to plant. Licking the sticky apple juice off her fingers, she hadn’t noticed wolf had broken from the usual routine and approached her, stalking her.

A large hand grabbed her wrist, and she squeaked as he dragged it up and back, bringing her hand to his mouth. He licked, nibbled, and sucked the stickiness off her fingers, each bite becoming softer, each lick lasting longer. Golden eyes stared down, half-lidded under heavy black brows. His hair was shaggy, and came to his shoulders, which were wide and strong. His chest was large, and was bare of the thick hair that covered his body when he changed. Arms so strong they could crush stone easily and hands roughened by heavy use, yet so gently on her skin, so gently holding her still.

Mise stared up at him, her blue eyes widening, and darkening with a feeling primal. She licked her lips, and he scraped her fingertip with a sharp canine, not enough to draw blood, but the right amount to make her shiver, and he held her gaze as captive as he held her wrist. When her tongue came out to lick her lips again, he darted down and captured them, deeply kissing her, pushing her down onto the cushions all around. Her arms came up, and he felt the delicious sting as her nails dug in, leaving little red half moons.

She let out a little moan, and his hand slipped behind her head, picking out the pins, unraveling her hair, letting it trickle through his fingers like a buttery soft wave of tan silk strands. She clung tight, and he shifted, deepening the kiss more, making it bruising, making it a kiss of greed. He demanded, and at first she gave, then her own need rose, and she started demanding right back. He yanked at the ties on her gown, and after a slight resistance, they gave, and he slipped his hand underneath, touching bare skin. She gave a cry, and bit his tongue gently. Blood rushed to his groin, and he growled, eyes a feral gold. He pulled back, rearing up to stare hungrily down at her.

She lay beneath him, hair flowing out around her, eyes blurry, face flushed, and lips wet and well kissed. Her top was loose, and he could catch the sight of a creamy swell of one breast just under her hem. She stared right back, seeing a tanned male of perfect virility, golden eyes fairly glowing with the primal need, hair wild, everything about him hinting at the beast just beneath the skin. Both just stared for a few moments, no sounds other than their ragged breathing, each feeling something new, each wanting what the other can give. Then he came back down, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he began a new assault on her senses.

He teased, tortured, and extracted gasps and moans from his usually quiet companion. He scraped teeth over the tip of one breast, and she arched back, dragging her nails up his back as she did, exciting him even more. He stripped her, and then ripped his clothes to shreds, wanting her skin on his, craving her softness against him. He wrapped one arm around her slim waist, and pulled her up as he fell back to lean against a chair. She clung to him, placing hot, open mouthed kisses along his neck and chest. His head fell back, and he let out a deep moan, enjoying the feel of her, the smell of her desire.

Her small hands had been stroking his skin, enjoying the feel of hot, hard muscle, when suddenly they grabbed him where he was hardest. His grip tightened, and his fangs grew. He kept his head back, afraid to look down at her, and she explored that part of him, enjoying the indrawn breath he took raggedly between clenched teeth. He was struggling with his control, fighting the battle to shift, and the battle to claim her now. Then he felt her mouth on him, and one battle was lost.

Mise had only the barest taste on her tongue, the brief feel of him on her lips and then his mouth was on hers, urgent, fevered, and his hand was on her juncture, fingers feeling how ready she was, how willing. She clung to him, and he dragged her hips up and forward, rubbing his tip against her entrance, teasing her with subtle probes, waiting until she was writhing and mewling to suddenly shove her hips down, thrusting up with his hips as he did so. She arched back and gave a cry at the intrusion, inner muscles spasming around him as she took that first leap over the edge. He felt his control slipping, and the skin on his lower arms started sprouting fur. His fingernails grew longer, curved and deadly, and he loosened his grip so as not to seriously injure her.

He felt it as it faded to after-shocks, and then began to rock her hips, grinding her against him. Her hands gripped his biceps, and her forehead leaned at the juncture between his neck and shoulder, her breath coming in sweet gasps. He led her up again and back down, then up yet again, each time higher than the last, each time longer than the previous. The last time, he dragged her mouth to his, stifling her scream with his growl as he came inside her, feeling her milk him as she shattered once more.

After, she lay draped across his chest, her breath soft against his sweat dampened skin, both spent and satisfied, and both beginning to wonder at this new feeling for one another.

He kissed her gently, careful with her ravished lips, aware how tender she was. When she started to shiver, he reached out a heavy arm and grabbed the end of a blanked sticking out from a chest. He dragged it over the two of them, and fell asleep listening to her even breaths.

- - -

When he awoke slowly, it was to the realization that the Master was at his door, watching him. Wolf opened one eye, and glared at the Vampyre leaning against his doorframe. With one eyebrow perfectly arched, the Master took in the scene with a smile of amusement on his lips. One hand came up to touch two fingers to his own forehead, and then the Master gave a slight bow, turned, and walked away, the door sliding quietly shut behind him.

He had some time to think on that particular reaction, but for now, he wanted to reflect on what had happened last night. Somehow, the boundary line between Wolf and Servant had blurred, distorting to the point that it was no longer visible, and he’d gone over the edge. Thinking on her meal, he decided it must’ve been the apple that did it. Just as the humans had the tale of Eve tempting Adam, she had tempted him. All because of a red flushed fruit, whose taste she had so enjoyed, and whose juice he had so thoroughly cleaned off of her. He felt himself starting to truly wake, and felt her squirm as she became aware of her position.

Before she really woke up, he began to tease her, flicking her swollen nipples, stroking her honeyed center, watching her face flush, her breath start getting heavier. He leaned in, and licked the sweat off her neck, feeling her shiver. He turned and laid her on her stomach on the cushions, and swiftly entered her from behind. She cried out, and he began to pound, watching her squirm and pant, feeling her grow hotter, wetter. She gave a clear, husky cry, and she broke apart beneath him, trembling and dragging in breaths.

He twisted her around so she was on her back, and kissed her softly, still thrusting inside her gently. Her eyes opened, the bright blue darkened with sleep and desire. He grinned into them.

“Good Morning, enjoying yourself?” He thrust in quickly, and she arched up, unable to give a coherent reply. He brought them both to completion, enjoying the sight of her climax once more.

After, she lay beneath him, looking up at him with a new light, one that the beast recognized as mate, and one the man was afraid of realizing. He let her get up, and dress herself. He watched as she left, pausing only briefly at the door to glance back, then she was gone. He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at the blood on a pillow, surrounded by her scent mixed with his. Finally, he stood, and as he walked out the door, he shifted to wolf, ready to resume his duty as guardian of the Master’s Pet. He wanted the day to be over, wanted to have her under him again.

And he knew, he knew to the very depth of his animal soul, she wanted the same thing.

-And so the Mouse tames the Wolf-