The Infernal Itch Ch. 04

By divine law, Aavi had become a paladin the moment he had sworn his oath and received Lyrti's blessing. That he had asked no-one's permission and sworn it apparently unsupervised didn't seem to faze anybody - that was between him and the goddess. The healing magic he could now wield was evidence of his new status just in case there were any doubters, but no-one had asked for a demonstration just yet. They did expect a ceremony though.

Paladins were rare enough in the Abbey, but paladins of Lyrti, the goddess of mercy and charity, were practically unheard of. That alone would have been interesting enough, but it came the morning after six Seraph, including his friend, had gone missing. It wasn't hard to figure out that the two events were related, though only Aavi and Zarel knew quite how.

It meant a crowd, which made Aavi feel intensely awkward. He knelt between the three altars in the grand chapel wearing his slightly-too-small spare novice robe and tried to block out the quiet murmur of the faithful in the pews behind him. Even if the three senior Triarchy clerics weren't intimidating enough, he also had to pick his words very carefully so as not to lie to them. Come to think of it, he wasn't sure if he even could lie about his oath.

"My friend Zarel and five other Seraph were taken by dark forces last night."

That got him a grave nod from the cleric of Agraton to his left, a big man named Kaikos clad in shining armour and carrying the shield so favoured by the protector god.

"I joined the party that searched for them. I have gone down into the city many times as a novice, delivering alms to the people and supporting the elder priests."

Diligent, obedient, a good little novice. It earned him an encouraging smile from the cleric of Lyrti, a kindly older woman named Tillis who wore no symbol of office besides a threadbare brown robe.

"The plight of the cursed people in the city... moves me. I thought about it a lot, even before what happened."

Malcantor, the cleric of Scaevola, seemed unmoved behind his polished steel mask. Scaevola was the god of healing and purity. They were depicted as a thin sexless figure, often with a metallic body, as if to underscore the deity's incorruptibility in these times of disease and depravity.

"So I swear by Lyrti to help everyone like my friend."

Aavi hadn't actually been speaking about Zarel when he'd sworn that, but he didn't think these esteemed priests needed to know about his brush with the infected tiefling. He was quite proud of his dissembling.

"I swear to relieve their discomfort and pain. To bring mercy and the goddess's comfort. And to redeem my friend, and everyone that I can."

The words hung awkwardly in the air for a while. The crowd on the pews were murmuring, but the clerics were silent. Tillis looked thoughtful, while Malcantor's mask remained nonplussed. Finally Kaikos broke the silence.

"'Tis a good Oath, lad. And the goddess has heard it-" he glanced at Tillis, who nodded confirmation, "... has heard it well. Indeed."

"And how will you fulfill it?" Malcantor's voice was sharp and nasal. "How can you comfort someone infected with that curse? How can you redeem monsters?"

Aavi thought back to his previous encounters with the Itch. His magic and his actions had provided comfort, though probably not of a sort that anyone here would approve of. And none of it had been permanent.

"I'm not certain yet," he tried, "but I am sincere..."

"Sincere? You will need more than sincerity to go up against the most vile disease the world has ever known!"

"Lyrti has accepted his word," Tillis came to his rescue, "and that is enough, yes?"

Aavi had the sense that the masked priest had opened his mouth to object, but Kaikos spoke first. Most paladins swore to Agraton, naturally, so his word carried the most weight here.

"Yes. A good Oath," he repeated, and Aavi could hear the emphasis on the word. "There are some... practical details we shall need to discuss, but I am sure they can wait."

"Fine," Malcantor's assent came out like the rasp of a metal file. "You assume the rank of paladin, with the privileges and more importantly the grave responsibilities that entails. We will watch your career with great interest."

The formalities were soon over, thankfully. There was too much work involved in keeping the Abbey fed, clothed and protected to have people idle for long.

Kaikos took Aavi to be outfitted in the Abbey storerooms and was immediately dismayed by his choices. The new paladin wasn't much interested in shining plate armour or ancient silver helms. Instead, he selected a pale brown leather jerkin that was well made but definitely wouldn't stop an arrow. Some loose cotton shirts came next, then some good boots and light but rugged trousers. Aavi was more concerned with dust and heat than blades, he explained to the baffled warrior priest.

He found a fine backpack of oiled leather that he had to have, despite the cleric's assertion that carrying things was a job for novices. To this he added food, clothes, and as many herbs and medicines as the infirmary would let him take. To Kaikos's great consternation he also added a purse of ancient coins from the Abbey's vault. By the time they got to the subject of weapons Aavi thought the moustached cleric might just change his mind on the whole paladin thing.

Kaikos thought a paladin should have a fine sword, preferably silver, and definitely the former property of a storied hero from the past. Aavi asserted that he wanted no weapon, his goddess was known for the hand of friendship after all. Kaikos proclaimed that he would surely be devoured by a dragon or worse should he, a noble paladin, go unarmed. Aavi pointed out that nobody had seen a dragon in centuries and that with no weapon training he was as much danger to himself with a sword as he was to an enemy. Kaikos threatened to call the whole thing off.

They settled on an ancient dusty staff of some silvery coloured bark. It was light and it looked like it might break easily, but some judicious whacking against more noble and seemly weapons proved it was surprisingly hard and cooled both their tempers somewhat.

Aavi finally got free of Agraton's cleric, martial advice still ringing uselessly in his ears, as the sun was starting to make its way down the western sky. He was supposed to be moving into his new private quarters, but that was a privilege he'd have to put off for many more hours yet. Instead he headed for the gate, where he spent five minutes convincing the guards that yes he did want to go into the city alone, that this was in fact a thing that a paladin of Lyrti could do, and that no he definitely did not require an escort. He told them to get used to it. They told him it was nice knowing him.

With that final obstacle cleared and the sun dipping lower and lower, Aavi finally set off down the hill and into the city.

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"You sure he's coming?"

Toro was antsy as usual, pacing up and down outside the doorway to the abandoned bell tower and leaving hoofprints everywhere. Ardour hoped a sandstorm would blow them away before the next Seraph patrol visited the place.

"I told him tonight and he agreed."

Ardour wasn't sure why she trusted the word of an Abbey novice she'd met exactly twice, but she did. The two days since she'd last seen him had been plenty of time for pondering the mysterious white haired boy. Toro had called it pining. Toro was an ass.

"And I'm here because?"

"Because we're going to the market and I need someone to watch our backs." She'd explained this already, the satyr was just whinging. Probably nervous. She noticed he'd washed his kilt.

"And we're going to the market because...? We don't have money."

Ardour gritted her teeth.

"Because he said he wanted to get to know us. This place. Have to start somewhere."

"Can't you just get to know him, you know, carnally?" Toro waggled his eyebrows. She was impressed he knew the word. "I'll help."

Ardour had certainly spent a good part of the last two days thinking about it. The Itch had started back up again only a couple of hours after they had parted ways. It wasn't quite back at the screaming, blue-balled, fuck-or-die type agony she'd reached before he healed her, but it was certainly there. Her breast ached when she thought about him too - that was a new one.

"No. He's... special. I can't ruin him like that."

"He's special because he's cute and you want to fuck him. But you can't fuck him because he's special." Toro gave his small goatee a philosophical stroke. "Tough one."

"Shut up, he's here."

Actually there were two people approaching the tower, Ardour saw a moment later.

Aavi was recognisable, pale curls practically luminous in the dusk light. He looked different, more purposeful, and his clothes were more practical than last time, though still too fine to blend in. There was a ginger haired woman with him, about his age, attractive. Her clothes looked ill-fitting or borrowed, but she had a fighter's build with broad shoulders and muscular arms. Ardour saw they were holding hands and felt an unpleasant knot form in her stomach.

The two pairs met beside the rusty well. The human woman was staring at them both suspiciously, with wide eyes that bore a hunted look. Toro was clearly on edge too, vacillating between nervous glances around the square and an appraising leer that took in both the Abbey folk and clearly found them appealing. Ardour gazed at Aavi and wondered if he had been thinking about their last encounter as much as she had.

The young paladin broke the silence at last.

"This is Zarel, my best friend." He squeezed her hand encouragingly. "Zarel, this is Ardour."

"Pleased to meet you, Zarel. This is Toro, my roommate-"

"Best friend," the satyr interjected at once.

"... and test of my patience," Ardour continued. "Meet Aavi."

Toro poked at the sandy ground with a hoof. "So do we shake hands or..."

"Why have you brought him? You told Aavi it would just be you." There was mistrust in Zarel's tone that raised the tiefling's hackles at once.

"Just backup, in case there's any trouble where we're going. Why are you here?"

"Same," the woman shot back at once, voice almost accusatory, "watching his back."

"Please, Zarel." Ardour could tell from Aavi's face as he placated his friend that something was wrong. The redhead glowered at them but kept her peace. "Can we speak in the tower? We need to share something and I don't want to do it out here."

They trooped inside, kicking up dust and sand. Nobody wanted to climb the ladder, so they stuck to the ground floor. Zarel lingered near the door, as far from Ardour and Toro as she could get. Aavi glanced back at her, clearly trying to be encouraging.

"Would you like to tell it?" he asked softly.

"This is your idea. You tell them."

There was a mixture of petulance and suspicion in her that made Zarel hard to like. But when Aavi began his story it began to become clear why. Ardour found herself grimacing and sneaking sympathetic looks at the former Seraph, who returned any she caught with a stubborn glare.

It took a few minutes for Aavi to relay what he knew of his friend's encounter with the werewolves. When he finished there was a moment of quiet as the two lifelong infected regarded Zarel in a new light.

"Well, shit," ventured the satyr at last. "Welcome to the club."

"Sorry," Ardour grunted, not sure what else to say.

There was another silence, which Toro broke again with a nod at Aavi.

"So have you fucked him yet?" he asked in his best deadpan.

"No!" the redhead almost shouted. Ardour groaned and massaged her temple. Aavi blushed.

"Of course I haven't... he's... I'm not giving him the curse! What kind of a question is that?!" She spotted the grin on the satyr's face and glared at him. "And he's my friend and we don't do that..."

"Still time then. For either of you." Toro nudged Ardour, merrily spreading the awkwardness around.

"Shut up, Toro." Ardour didn't miss Zarel's dagger stare.

"Anyway!" Aavi was eager to move them along, though he couldn't quite look at either of the women. He decided to address the purple-skinned goat man instead. "We need to track down the devil and her werewolves, so we can find our lost friends."

The satyr blinked, then looked at Ardour. Ardour looked at him. They both looked back at Aavi.

"You want us to help you find a devil?" Toro asked, scratching his goatee. "We're not really on first name terms with any..."

"But you know a lot more about this place than we do," Aavi pressed, "you must have an idea of where to start?"

"Nope!"

Toro was a bit too quick on the denial. It didn't take long for him to crack under the combined stares of the two Abbey folk.

"Ok, maybe... but this Lael sounds dangerous. Why take the risk?"

"To save five noble friends and warriors," Zarel snapped at once.

She didn't quite vocalise the 'who are worth far more than you'll ever be' part, but Ardour could hear it anyway. What did they care about some already-cursed Abbey dwellers who would never have helped them in turn? But then she caught the pleading expression on Aavi's tender face. He was trying to help them. He cared.

Ardour put a hand on Toro's arm and they turned away to confer in whispers.

"We could help a bit. Put them on the right track? Just so the city doesn't eat them."

"Is that your head, your heart or your dick talking?" Toro challenged her.

"Don't you feel any sympathy? She's got the Itch but it's probably barely even started yet. Those fuckers gave it to her and took all her friends, she can't go home, and she's still lucid enough to know how fucked she is."

"Yeah but she's a raging..." Toro trailed off and sighed. "Alright, fair. But you owe me a fuck. Or she does. Or I'm getting it from the twink."

Ardour started to protest, but the satyr had already spun around to address the humans again.

"Alright. We know someone who finds people. That's a start right?"

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Now the sun had set it was possible to see the dancing multicoloured lights and faerie fire that decorated the pleasure barges on the distant river, intermittently visible over the rooftops as they descended through the city. The water's lush banks were the domain of the most corrupt, the most mad. Home to orgies that lasted for days, obscene erotic tortures, roaming slavers and their drugged chattel, an endless cavalcade of depravity in service of scratching an Itch that could not be suppressed.

The Midnight Market was in that direction, further from the interference of the Abbey folk, but not totally overcome by madness. It housed a fair crowd tonight, ranging from hooded and nondescript humans not dissimilar to their new companions, all the way up to hulking centaurs and towering minotaurs. Sly looking tieflings and tattooed dwarves mingled with loud barking gnolls and brash orcs. It was a diverse and dangerous crowd united by a single condition: every single one had the Itch.

Everyone except Aavi that was. Ardour elbowed him for the third time as he spent a little too long gaping at a pair of orcs copulating loudly in an alleyway. Interestingly he didn't seem to have any trouble seeing in the dark.

One of the orcs had spotted him and seemed to be about to invite him to join in. He mumbled an apology and ducked his head, focusing on just trying to keep up with Toro as the satyr led them through the thronging crowd. She'd insisted on improving his disguise, smearing dirt over his new clothes and covering his too-innocent features with a hood. There was still something about him though. His body language was too open, like you could stop him and talk to him about the weather. Not like the perpetually itching, frustrated and horny crowd around him.

His friend couldn't be accused of being too open, at least. A tonic seller reached out to try to press a bottle of some miracle salve into Zarel's hand and the Seraph slapped it away hard enough that it flew off to shatter against the cobblestones. The irate shouts of the shady merchant, an earth genasi Ardour thought, blended into the noise of the throngs as they were swiftly left behind.

Toro led them between close-packed rickety merchant stalls, roofed with thin black fabric covered in holes and stains. People danced or busked from street corners or makeshift stages, advertising a dizzying array of services and companionship, none of it cheap. A pair of large buildings, former taverns, had been converted into brothels and were doing a roaring trade.

Toro led them toward the smaller and dingier of the two. Ardour watched and couldn't suppress a smirk as both humans faltered a little, overcome by the cacophony of moans, grunts and shouts that filtered out through the open doorway. But they weren't going inside. The satyr turned left and led them down an alley beside the building. They all clustered around a small nondescript door in the side of a neighbouring structure that had looked ruined from the street, but might just about be described as habitable when viewed from this angle.

Toro rapped his knuckles on the door. There was silence, then quiet footsteps as someone made their way to the door. It opened a crack and a large pair of verdant green eyes took them in.

"You again? I haven't got any news for her yet." The voice was male and had a whiny sort of quality.

As planned, Ardour got her foot in the door before it could be closed again. "Not here for that. We need to find someone. We can pay."

Zarel caught her eye and mouthed "we can?", but Ardour just leaned on the door harder. The figure on the other side relented and it swung open.

Inside was a large room that had been partitioned in two with a gauzy pink silk curtain that wouldn't have looked out of place in some ancient pleasure palace. On the near side was a writing desk with a big padded armchair, a disused fireplace and a much-overused bookcase with bits of parchment and scrolls spilling down from the shelves. The other side of the curtain was obscured, but the shadow of a large four-poster bed suggested that was the living area and this side was a working space.

The chamber's occupant was a short boyish looking figure with a mane of flowing strawberry blonde hair that fell to his shoulders. A pair of red pointed fox ears poked up through the hair, which framed an otherwise human face that was forming into an annoyed pout. He was wearing a rumpled and much too large silk shirt with the sleeves rolled up to give him use of his hands. It hung down past his waist, which was good because he didn't seem to be wearing any trousers, instead a pair of woolen socks ran up past his knees. A bushy red and white tail poked out from under the back of the shirt and they all got a flash of pale skinned thighs as the fox boy turned around and made his way back to the big armchair behind the desk.

"Well come in then, shut the door."

They all trooped in obediently. There were only two chairs facing the desk, which nobody took. Their host sprawled sideways in the armchair, legs hanging over one arm and tail over the other.

"Toro, Ardour, my dear friends." He flashed them a smile that Ardour was never sure was genuine. "How is Madam Sivir these days? You can assure her I'm as vigilant as ever. Not a drow in the city that I don't know about."

"Vyx." Ardour leant on the back of one of the chairs. "We're not checking up about that. Want help finding some people."

"Well you're talking to the best people-finder in the city. I never forget a face. Speaking of which..." he indicated the two humans who were awkwardly hanging back.

"I am Aavi," the paladin introduced himself, keeping his hood up as instructed. Ardour could see Vyx trying to peer under it, naturally. "This is Zarel."

"Aavi and Zarel, between you you've got the whole alphabet!"

The two humans grimaced an awkward acknowledgement at the comment, while Ardour and Toro both looked blank. Vyx grinned triumphantly.

"And you can both read. Very interesting. What a pleasure to meet you. I am Vyx, the greatest detective in the city. Hmm, perhaps the only one, but still the greatest."

"Pleased to meet you Vyx..." Aavi came forward cautiously, his Seraph friend in tow.

"Sit, sit! I'm sure you have quite a story."

Aavi took a chair and sat. Zarel glared at Ardour long enough that she stopped leaning on the other and the redhead took it.

"We need to find a devil called Lael." Aavi got straight to the point.

Vyx twitched.

"Well now I know there's a story. But I'm afraid I don't track devils. Very bad for business."

Both humans nodded. They'd been told to expect this, but all agreed it had been worth a shot.

"Then a werewolf pack that was working for her." Zarel said. "You must know werewolves."

"Because I'm a great detective of course?" Vyx gave her an arch look. "I'm a shifter, not a were."

He fidgeted in the armchair, crossing and then uncrossing his legs. "But yes, I do know most of them. Who are you looking for?"

The Seraph woman explained what she knew, avoiding recounting her experience in any detail. The fox boy gave her a long, thoughtful look.

"Marek and his pack. And you met them while they were enthralled to a devil? And you want to find them again?"

Ardour was relieved to see Zarel bite her tongue. They'd told her not to give away more than needed to the vulpine gossip.

"Well~" Vyx rubbed his hands together propitiously, "I do happen to know where they lair. And I am so happy to help you, my new friends, with whatever quest leads you to them. There is just the trivial matter of my price."

He swung his legs off the arm of the chair and leant forward, resting his chin on his hands to gaze at Zarel.

"One hundred gold pieces." It was an outrageous sum which would buy anything in the market outside. Zarel didn't know that of course, but she'd been warned.

"But you didn't have to do any detecting. You knew them right away, it costs you nothing." she protested.

"Years of craft, networking, spying," he countered, batting his eyelashes. "Agents carefully cultivated, secrets stolen and hoarded. I don't come cheap."

"We don't have that much money," Aavi tried, which was true enough, "but it's extremely important that we find the werewolves. Could you take five gold pieces?"

Vyx turned those big green eyes on Aavi, clearly in his element.

"I would like to be able to, my mysterious hooded friend. But alas, I would starve. You would condemn me to sell my body out there in the market, just to put food in my belly. And a delicate beautiful creature such as I would surely never survive."

Aavi blushed and stammered. Zarel looked annoyed but lost for words. Their two guides exchanged an amused look.

"Times are hard for us all..." Aavi tried, but the fox boy cut him off.

"Yes they are. The gangs extort all the merchants here so badly. And they do such terrible things if you can't pay. I don't want to whore for some brutish orc just to get by."

The little bit of Aavi's cheek that Ardour could see was bright pink. She decided to put him out of his misery.

"Stop toying with him Vyx." She walked around to sit on the side of his desk, where she could loom over him. "Your rate is a gold piece an hour. We bring you Sivir's money, remember?"

Toro took his cue and leaned on the other end of the desk.

"And we've only been here ten minutes," the satyr added. He tried some math but it didn't go well. "That's... uh, less than a gold piece."

The cute detective sat up again and leaned back in the chair so he could take them in, expression shrewd.

"Well... that rate is for a very special existing client whose healthy species-paranoia keeps me very busy. Not her two louts. No offence."

"Come on Vyx, you like us, you can do us a favour." Toro winked at him.

The shifter's gaze moved around the group, from one to the next. Ardour was relieved it didn't linger too long on Aavi.

"It's a big favour. You'd have to help me out in return."

The two natives knew what kind of help. Ardour glanced at Aavi and Zarel, but they were predictably slow on the uptake.

"Yeah?" Toro grinned, obviously game. Of course he was, the randy satyr.

"It's full moon tomorrow. I'm not a were, but it's got me very antsy. Very stressed." Vyx looked pointedly at the door, indicating the brothel opposite. "It would cost me at least fifty gold to deal with it over there."

Toro snorted, shamelessly familiar with the price of such things. "Fifty gold would get you railed until the new moon."

"Well," Vyx's eyes flicked around the group again, "until dawn would be a start."

Ardour gave Toro a quick nod. It wasn't too steep a price, though she suspected the slutty detective had a worse case of the Itch than she did. Well, she'd told Aavi and his friend that she'd help. And her balls were still very full...

"Watch the door for us," she told the humans.

They'd caught up now of course. What little she could see of Aavi was still bright pink with embarrassment, but he nodded in understanding. Toro had bodily plucked the fox boy from his armchair and thrown him over one shoulder, carrying him toward the gauzy curtain that divided the room. To Ardour's surprise, Zarel was standing to follow.

"You don't have to..." the tiefling began awkwardly, "Toro and I can handle him." They'd certainly done things like it before. Having the Abbey folk around for this, particularly Aavi, was giving her very strange feelings though. Surely not shame? The Itch didn't allow for such things.

Zarel's shrug suggested she didn't much care for the tiefling's preferences. "He hasn't told me where to find Marek yet."

Fair enough.

The area behind the curtain was a little smaller than Vyx's office, well lit with flickering candles that were burning low and in the process of melting themselves to the floor. A large wardrobe stood open at one end of the room, with a small mirror hanging on the inside of the door. The other end of the space was taken up by an impressive four-poster bed that the effeminate fox surely could not have dragged in here himself. Its white sheets were rumpled and messy as if from restless sleep.

Toro dumped the shifter onto the bed as the other two made their way inside. Zarel found a corner to scowl from as Ardour went over to the pair.

Toro was never far from naked, by virtue of only wearing a loincloth. He had it off by the time Vyx had bounced back upright, exposing the dark lavender goat fur of his lower half. The fox boy slid from the bed to kneel in front of the big satyr, reaching to grasp his already rigid cock in a hand that didn't quite fit around it. He let out a delighted coo at the discovery and took Toro in both hands, stroking him with big exaggerated pumps.

Ardour was straining inside her own leggings, already hard to the point that it was difficult to get them undone. She cursed her desperately itching dick, feeling it ache as she squirmed to free it from captivity. The scene before her didn't help - Vyx was giving the satyr an enthusiastic tongue bath from tip to furry balls and visibly loving it, his face a picture of delight.

Toro tangled a hand in the boy's mussed hair and guided his efforts, ensuring each of those weighty testicles was well tended, soft fur slick with spit. An envious aching need gripped her own crotch and Ardour yanked her leggings down at last, kicking them off hastily. She moved to stand beside Toro.

The satyr monopolised Vyx for a little longer, making her watch as he sucked greedily on a heavy testicle until it finally popped free from his shiny lips. Finally Toro used his grip in the fox boy's hair to turn his head toward Ardour. Vyx's eyes widened, then turned hooded.

"Now this is a pleasant surprise," he purred, "the things I can do with two..."

She found she rather wanted to know what he had in mind. Toro let go of his hair so the fox boy could give Ardour the same enthusiastic tonguing. A soft, pink and skillful tongue swirled around the head of her cock, contrasting nicely with her dark grey flesh. He moved lower down her length, tonguing and mouthing in a way that was teasing and pleasing but more than anything left her wanting more.

Vyx fumbled about, not taking his eyes off her, until he found Toro's cock again and started stroking it in one hand. He took Ardour's own length in the other and stroked her too, ducking lower to examine her sack. Hers was a smaller, tighter package than the satyr's, with smooth hairless skin that was firm and taut, her balls tucked close to her body. Vyx's enthusiastic tongue bath suggested he liked it just fine and left her shiny with his saliva.

The slutty detective tugged them about until he was kneeling between both of them and he could grind their tips together lewdly as he stroked them. Ardour and Toro were both leaking copiously now and every time a strand of precum formed it was greedily gathered by a questing tongue, the cock in question rewarded with a lash of that slippery pink appendage along its sensitive underside.

It felt incredible. Ardour could feel a climax approaching already, one that threatened to be massive after days of abstention, frustration, and far too much self-control. The familiar buzzing, prickling tickle of the Itch was there too, particularly on her shiny saliva-coated balls. For every press of the fox boy's tongue, every time he suckled on her flesh, the feeling would recede for just a moment and then come back a little stronger. Her breath caught and she humped his stroking hand, unintentionally frotting her friend (not that Toro minded), chasing orgasm and the temporary relief it would bring.

Toro's hand grabbed her ass and squeezed, she might have objected but found she could only manage a whorish moan. He grinned and pulled their heads together, brow-to-brow, her tiefling horns clacking against his mess of antlers and locking them in a pose that might require some awkward untangling later. This was how they finished when they 'helped each other out', though Ardour was much preferring this cute fox boy doing the helping.

Her thoughts jumped unexpectedly to Aavi, trying to help her too, in his own way. She wondered what it would be like if it was him on his knees instead. Better, the Itch told her, so much better. Her cursed flesh tingled and warmed, suddenly aching to go and get him. She must have tried to turn her head to look in the direction of the curtain, because suddenly her neck hurt and Toro was grimacing as well. They were stuck like this for now though.

The satyr gave her a look, somewhere between amusement and pity, and she remembered his words from the other day. You're messed up, aren't you? More than you know, she thought.

Toro's eyes pointedly flicked down to Vyx and she dragged herself back into the moment, realising suddenly how close she was to the brink. Her toes were digging into the floor, her leg muscles all tense so that she trembled slightly in place.

"Gonna-"

She choked out a warning gasp as the onrushing wave of climax crested... and then broke over her with enough force that she thought her legs might give out. Intense, long-denied pulses of pleasure shot through her core, each accompanied by a sharp twitch of her cock.

Vyx had leaned back and angled his face up toward her, obviously intending to catch a few ropes of her seed across his features like a good slut. He hadn't reckoned for how pent up she was - the first few pulses of white seed ended up decorating his red hair, dripping from one of his vulpine ears. The rest glazed his face thoroughly enough that it ran in rivulets from his nose and chin.

Ardour felt emptied, drained, sated, uplifted. Like the corruption fevering her body and fogging her brain had been gathered up and dumped all over the all too willing fox boy. She wobbled a little and leaned on Toro for support, gasping and revelling in the sensation. The room seemed sharper, and she could think clearly again, just for a moment.

Vyx let out an appreciative moan, though she doubted he'd thank her for the mess later. She thought she heard a muffled whimper from Zarel's corner too.

"Hot." Toro grunted and untangled himself from her with less care than was ideal. They both winced, but he was still in the fog of his own desire and he had things to do.

"Your turn, slut boy."

He picked up Vyx and carried him to the bed again. The fox boy coaxed him into a very sticky kiss en-route, which Vyx clearly loved and Toro stoically bore. The shifter unbuttoned his shirt hastily and cast it off, revealing slender pink flesh beneath. He was wearing a tiny pair of red panties that failed to hide much, given the skinny cock that was peeking out of them. Vyx's tool was cute, a bright red pointed tip that emerged from a white-furred sheath. His prodigious leaking had soiled the panties and probably ruined the bottom of his shirt too.

The satyr ran a hand across Vyx's cheek, gathering up a thick coating of the cum that glazed him. Ardour could see the reddened, fevered skin beneath as it came away. Her own seed was tainted of course, just like the juices from Sivir that had so maddened her a few days ago. She felt the first tickling of the Itch starting up again in her balls.

Toro pulled Vyx's panties aside and pressed a finger to his entrance. It slid inside easily, lubed by the corrupting cum. Vyx moaned and the satyr leered.

"Gonna need more than a tongue to get me off, slut."

Toro added another two fingers, pumping them in and out and scissoring them wider until he had the fox boy lubed and pliant. Vyx was on his back, grabbing a double fistful of the bedsheets and gasping at each rough motion - it would have been too much for a normal person but the curse encouraged such depravities. His cock was trapped against his belly by his panties, leaking profusely.

Toro removed his fingers, smearing his own length with another helping of the abundant cum that coated the fox boy's features. He grabbed Vyx's legs and pulled him to the edge of the bed, where he could penetrate him from standing. Toro's grunt of satisfaction as he slid home was guttural, profound. The shifter made a sound more like a mewl, struggling to adapt to the rough intrusion but desperate for more regardless. Both sounds went straight to Ardour's crotch, and she started to harden again.

She tore her eyes from the pair, wanting to cling on to her moment of clarity before the fog of lust and the Itch descended once again. A subtle motion drew her eyes to the corner of the room. Zarel was fixated on the scene, her unguarded expression somewhere between horror and longing. It was the most open Ardour had ever seen her. She had a hand in her pants, Ardour saw, working away in swift rubbing motions. Zarel noticed her gaze and blushed, shamefaced but not stopping. The tiefling looked away quickly to spare her.

She looked at the gauzy curtain next and realised with a start that it didn't seem nearly as see-through from this side. The brighter candlelight on this side of the divider must be throwing their silhouettes in stark relief for Aavi to see though. Guiltily, she wondered what he made of the show.

The sounds from the bed were getting louder. Toro had the fox boy's legs bent backwards until he was practically folded in half, moaning his delight as the satyr's thrusts pressed him into the mattress. Vyx came as she watched, a cute high-pitched whine that accompanied three quick spurts of seed from his untouched cock that wasted themselves onto his belly.

Toro finished a moment later with a bestial grunt and a final slamming thrust that made the ancient bed creak alarmingly. From her angle behind them, Ardour could see his balls twitch and jump as he emptied them into the shifter. From how long it went on, she guessed his load must have matched her own prodigious effort from earlier. A hot tingle began to burn in the back of her skull at the thought. She'd just have to do better.

Toro pulled free and rolled away onto his back with an exhausted groan. His eyes flickered closed and he looked almost peaceful, hairy chest rising and falling as he caught his breath and enjoyed his own moment of relief. Mentally she transplanted him into some serene forest grove, just after a traditional satyr revel. She thought that right now he would fit right in.

Vyx meanwhile, was a dishevelled mess. The fox boy was shiny with perspiration and slick with his own wasted seed. He seemed to be struggling to get his exhausted legs back under control, knees still resting on either side of his head. The pose meant that his much-abused hole was on full display, winking and clenching as it recovered from Toro's less-than-gentle affections. Thick white cum leaked from him and ran down the cleft of his buttocks in a shimmering stream. It was one of the lewdest things Ardour had ever seen.

A soft female moan broke the sudden silence. Zarel had her palm over her mouth, trying to muffle herself as the fingers of her other hand dug frantically into her sex. She was nearly as red as the fox boy, panting and sweating from an attempt at self-pleasure that was clearly neither as subtle nor as successful as she'd hoped. Ardour felt a pang of sympathy for the newly cursed woman as she discovered just how difficult the Itch was to scratch.

Zarel caught her looking again, but this time her expression was imploring. It took Ardour a moment to get it, then she saw the human's eyes dart to Vyx's leaking hole. Right, the deal. The fox boy still owed them an answer.

The shifter had regained just enough composure to roll over onto his front as Ardour approached the bed, getting his hands and knees underneath himself as he tried to work some life back into his tired limbs. Ardour crawled up behind him, then onto him, her breasts dragged along his back and her nipples tingled pleasantly. She nipped Vyx's ear playfully.

"Having fun, slut?"

He moaned an affirmative and squirmed beneath her. His skin was fever hot, but then so was hers. Her crotch was buzzing and prickling again.

"Want some more?"

She dragged herself up and down the cleft of his buttocks, feeling the tingling burn from the leaking tainted seed there start to sink into her flesh. It must be only a fraction of what he was feeling. He groaned encouragement, apparently not in a talking state.

"Best detective-slut in the city."

Ardour used her thighs to nudge his legs apart, settling between them. She grasped the backs of each of his hands, letting him take her weight. She sawed back and forth for a bit, then found his still loose entrance and pushed inside.

Vyx's gasping hiss was one of relief, like cold water thrown on hot metal. Inside he was like a furnace, slick quivering muscles spasmed and pulsed, sometimes gripping tight and sometimes slackening to let rivulets of cum ooze from him. Ardour could feel herself getting coated with the stuff, could feel the Itch seeping through her flesh and into her brain. She was going to fuck even more corruption into him, until they were both mindless and spent.

But she had to get something out of him first. For her friends.

"Where's Marek?"

She emphasised the question by slowly drawing herself back and then hammering into him, feeling his excited spasm in response.

"Until dawn," he gasped.

She nipped his ear again and put more of her weight on him, feeling his limbs tremble as he held them both up. She wanted him to feel like the hunted, cornered little fox he was.

"W-we agreed..."

His knees gave out and they slumped forward to the bed. Ardour took the opportunity to lie completely on top of him, squashing him further into the mattress.

"We can go until dawn, slut." Ardour ground her hips down on him in punishing circles, hoping to find his prostate. His moans suggested she was right on target. "But my human friends have places to be..."

"F-fuck..."

The suspicious little slut was trying to hold out, but she knew he'd spill it soon. She'd have sold any secret to keep fucking him right now.

"Where's Marek?"

She gave him a pinpoint little thrust, right on the sweet spot. It promised a lot more.

"Ok, ok..." he took a deep breath, trying to collect himself.

She thrust again, then again. Ardour found she couldn't bring herself to stop fucking him, he'd just have to get his thoughts in order while she battered his prostate.

"Oh fuck... he's... the pack is at..."

The fog was really descending now. He was talking, she'd done her job. But her ears were ringing so much that someone else would have to do the listening. Ardour growled and ploughed into him with abandon.

"Fuck- the factory... two chimneys... north of here..."

Good enough. Ardour tangled both hands in his hair, elbows resting on either side of his head, and pushed his face into the bed. She redoubled her efforts, hips slapping loudly into his ass as she tried to fuck the fox boy into the mattress. Having cum once already, the Itch was making her work hard for her next orgasm.

The world shrank down to just her and Vyx. More specifically, her cock and the fox boy's ravaged ass that she was re-shaping for her own pleasure. She growled in his ear and he whimpered in response. She went faster, harder, desperate to once again scratch the Itch that crackled throughout her being and resonated through him in turn.

She could hear voices around her. Zarel trying to talk to her, but she blocked her out. Her ears were ringing too loudly and anyway, nothing the Seraph had to say could be as important as rutting out her next load into the slutty fox beneath her.

A new voice, also distant, then a hand touched her brow. A cool, soothing hand. The fog lifted, just for a moment. Aavi.

"Thank you."

It was an incongruous thing to say to someone hungrily railing a slutty detective. Distantly, she remembered the deal.

"We're going to go and find the werewolves."

A tiny voice in the back of her mind said she ought to help with that. That the two humans would be much safer with a guide. It was swiftly drowned by the need to fuck this fox until neither of them could walk.

"I'll try to meet you at the tower again. At sunset."

Zarel said something she didn't catch. Her brief moment of lucidity was drifting away again as the beginnings of another climax started to build. Vyx moaned suddenly beneath her and she could tell from his clenching spasms that he was cumming again.

"Thank you, Ardour."

She felt Aavi place a gentle chaste kiss on her cheek, then withdraw. Two sets of footsteps receded as her heart longed to tear itself from her chest and follow them out the door. Her heart wasn't in charge though. She buried herself in the fox boy, as cursed as she was, and mingled their corruption even further.

There was a long time until dawn.