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[bardische]

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[massochism]

No, this is arguably part of my duties, too.

[Olivine's smile is small, but it's earnest. there's truth to the statement—watching over Basch is in some way protecting the people of Klein, even if the one he cares about right now isn't from here at all. that's his secret, they don't need to know it.

another gentle squeeze and Olivine starts forward, slow enough that he won't outpace the taller man unless he doesn't move at all.]

Let's be off, then. I'm sure we can get plenty of distance in a reasonable time.

[the rest, they can handle as it goes. he can prove himself to Basch, one thing at a time. he wants to.]

[bardische]

[ Basch doesn't like the idea of being a problem for Olivine to solve, or something to protect the villagers from, but right now he's willing to bear that humiliation. It's easier, when Olivine is the one who leads. He's not pushing anything the other doesn't want, even if he still feels like he's lying by omission.

But he hasn't omitted anything, really. It just feels like Olivine doesn't hear the truth to it. That he's dangerous.

But he nods, matching pace, not pulling away from Olivine's hand but not keeping it there either. It doesn't feel his place to choose.

He expected to have some time still, but its hardly a few minutes before he hisses in pain, eyes screwed shut as the familiar tension gathers against his skull, heralding the change of his ears on the way. ]

This is...fast... [ He pants. ] I don't...something's off... [ He winces again, cradling his head as the skin and hair shift too fast, stomach knotting at the sudden onset of too many, too-crisp sounds. ]

[massochism]

[It's an excuse, more than anything. Olivine has no intention of "solving" Basch, no need to really worry—but it's enough to keep things civil. Mostly civil.

The walk... well, it was uneventful for the first few minutes, at least. At the pained hiss, his attention turns sharply back to Basch. He's quite sure the man wouldn't have let him stay so near or move so slowly if the trouble were so close at hand, so his brows are already furrowed in concern before the taller man confirms his fears.

So, what to do? He doesn't know enough about werewolves, isn't sure what might help, but—things like this are normally caused by some change in essence, right?]

It's alright. [He doesn't know if that's true. The best he can do is make sure they're not somewhere too open as the horrible crisp sound of shifting rises up into the air. Seeing it in reverse is nothing for preparing oneself for this, and he can feel his stomach twist and his heart ache for empathy.

Still, there's a calm there as the priest raises a hand, familiar warmth flowing from his fingertips to sink into Basch's body. Soothing and deepening the well of energy available for the transformation itself, but not attempting to repair. Not yet, when he doesn't know if that will cause more problems.]

Just breathe. I'll take care of you. [His gaze is firmly locked on the former guard, soft when he speaks again.] I haven't forgotten my promise.

[He won't let the other man hurt him. Not like this.]

[bardische]

[ It's not alright but...the guilt and panic ebb away with Olivine's voice and touch. His breathing comes deeper, more even. He's no magical theorist, but whatever Olivine is doing, it eases the tension that's deeper than tissue.

He's never been with someone, while the change is happening. Even at the palace, he'd requested to be locked in his chambers and then the dungeon for safety. The few medical healers who had examined him had been unable to do anything.

Perhaps the style of magic was just different here. Regardless, he was grateful.

Slowly, he opens his eyes. The weight on his head tells him that his ears are fully changed, even without reaching to touch them. ]

Thank you [ He whispers, not pulling away. He knows they need to get somewhere more private, but he needs a moment to center himself. ] That helped. We should...get as far as we can while I still can. The other changes can be worse.

[massochism]

[something about the way magic uses the area's energy, perhaps. Or it could be nothing of the sort; as long as it helps, Olivine is happy to do it.

Seeing it now, he finds himself stricken by how... nice those ears look, how they fit him well. The last time had been much more charged, and at the end of the transformation besides, so there's certainly a moment of admiration while the other centers himself.

It isn't until he speaks that the priest lets that energy fade, smile soft.]

I'm glad it helped. And—of course. If you're ready to move again, we can go at any time. Will you let me try to help with the other changes as well?

[there's no expectation there, just a question as he offers himself to lean on, should Basch need it.]

[bardische]

[ Basch notices the eyes on him, and he doesn't quite resist the need to look away. He must be unsettling to look at, a reminder of the monster he is. But Olivine's seen worse, and he isn't going to send the Priest away if he doesn't want to.

He's just braced for being left. It's the only rational way this ends.

He does nod though. It's...nice not to hurt so badly. And gods help him, to not be alone. It will hurt worse, next time, but right now he doesn't care. ]

Whatever you're doing is helping thus far.

[ Against resisting the urge to scratch at his large, furred ears. One swivels, catching some sound in the distance, then both flatten in concern in displeasure at the sound of villagers, furthered by how embarrassed he is at these emotions being on display in such a grotesque way. ]

This way. [ Toward quiet, into the forest. Where he belongs. ]

[massochism]

[Really, if he liked at Olivine's face, he'd not be so sure of his expectations. But for now, he'll make do with a hand on Basch's wrist, not quite where he wants it but as close as he dares. It's... to keep himself from falling behind, he tells himself.]

Right... lead the way.

[He wants so badly to comfort Basch. Wants to reach up and slide his fingers along those ears, rub the scalp at their base where the skin must be sensitive. Maybe... maybe when they've reached their destination. At that point, he can at least ask.

The forest wraps around them and the sound of civilisation dies down to a muted sense of quiet. Olivine's attention drifts between his companion and the surroundings, taking in all of it with quiet fascination.]

[bardische]

[ He's surprised, again, when the hand returns to his wrist. He makes no effort to dislodge it. That touch is a better reminder that he's welcome -- that he's human enough -- than words are.

And...it's nice. Shameful as it is, it's been...months since anyone touched him. He'll let himself privately enjoy it, he tells himself, because the connection to the grounding magic is safer for both of them.

It's almost normal, walking silently like this, Basch's ears still swiveling to pick up sound. There are a few more small flares of pain, the prickling sensation of hair growing on his arms and legs, but nothing debilitating, not yet. ]

There's a small cave this way.

[ They almost make it before he hisses again, eyes shut as heat and tension well. It's several places at once this time -- his hands, the base of his spine, his feet. He's panting and sweating before he even registers what changes are coming this time -- nails to claws, tender flesh of his hands and feet thickening to pads, and a discomforting lump in his trousers where a tail has sprouted. ]

[massochism]

[He can feel the advent of those pain flares with how he's grasping, but doesn't try to stop Basch. If they're not bad enough to want to stop, that's up to him.]

Alright. Just a little further, then.

[a reassuring squeeze on his arm, and it's enough for that moment. Until they're almost there and Basch hisses, the telltale sounds of more transformation making him shift a little closer.]

... lean on me, okay? We're almost there. I can support you.

[He places his other hand down to share that healing sensation again. There's more power in his movements than his gentle demeanor suggests, fully intending to get them into the cave so he can get the blond's clothes out of the way.]

[bardische]

[ He doesn't hear the words so much as the voice, reminding him he has something to stay lucid for. And someone to help. The magic flares again, the transformations aren't quite so painful as they could be. He's dazed, though, bone-tired and disoriented. Usually this is when his thoughts start to turn manic and aggressive.

There's none of that. Just a whine in his throat, a desire to curl up safely, lick his wounds, wait for the pain to ebb.

It's easy to follow Olivine's guiding direction. He stumbles once or twice, legs aching with the promise of limbs shifting again, but they hold off for now. He smells the cave before he sees it, relief at the promise of no more walking. The entrance is pleasantly hidden behind a grove of trees, and he doesn't smell any recent occupants. ]

[massochism]

[no recent occupants, and no monsters to speak of around... it's quite convenient really. Olivine can't help but breathe a sigh of relief at the prospect of letting Basch settle and of seeing him through the transformation. He doesn't really know what he'll do when the other is transformed... but he can't claim to be too worried. After all, he's a lot more capable than his soft appearance makes him out to be.

Anyway, strong arms continue to brace the taller man, and once they're suitably far into the cave for safety, he'll just lead him to sit. Or lie down, whatever seems most comfortable.]

Here we are... you're doing well. We'll get through this together. [That's... a habit, clearly. Olivine obviously means the words, sure, but he's not intending to fall into his big brother habits. Fingers soothe over a furry ear as he settles in with Basch, offering his lap or shoulder or anything else for support.]

[bardische]

[ Yes. Luck. For the first time since this curse started. Olivine has been a balm in more ways than one.

Not that he has the center of mind to think about that right now. It's a relief to be guided off his cramping legs. He slumps against Olivine's shoulder, still breathing heavily. He no longer is fretting about guilt or propriety. Olivine is a comfort and a boon and he isn't letting that go.

And -- something else. As he breathes deeply, Olivine's scent fills him, calming him, but tightening something in him too. This is...right. This is safe. This is his pack. This is his to protect and be protected by. The hole that opened in his heart with the onset of this curse feels, for the first time, plugged.

It's good he isn't lucid enough to worry about losing that.

Whatever last dregs of thought are left evaporate from his mind when warm fingers gently caress the sensitive skin of his ears. He makes a sound somewhere between a whine and a moan, body curling to nestle against Olivine, head bent to reach for more of those fingers. The sensation is whole-body, sending warmth and shivers through him. His tail trembles involuntarily, putting additional pressure on the trapped appendage. He has the urge to lick Olivine's neck in response, though that one, at least, some part of his mind clamps down on. ]

[massochism]

[a smile breaks over his lips as Basch leans into him, body sturdy and warm as always. He's just glad to see him able to rest a moment, to offer something to him. It's not... obligatory, and that feels nice in itself. This is what he wants to do, for someone else who sees him for more than his title.

It's something of a first, really. He shouldn't get too used to it, but...]

Ah—

[for a second, he's worried he hurt Basch with the way he moves, the sound he makes. Only for a second though, as his head leans into his fingers, heartbeat picking up when the blond leans comfortably into his space. There's no fear in that pace, let alone his breath. Cheeks turn red as he continues his movements for a moment, using the space to compose himself—and depending on how hard the other presses to him, he might feel the peculiar press of something hard, set under his clothes.

The tremble of his tail brings a little more clarity to the moment, and Olivine hums softly.]

... would you like help getting your clothes off? I'm sure that can't be comfortable.

[He's already seen him naked before, so at least that awkwardness is probably a touch less intense...]

[bardische]

[ Basch doesn't quite press on the right place to feel the growing hardness under Olivine's clothes, but his nostrils flare, something changing in the other's scent. His muddy, animal-driven thoughts think nothing of it when heat starts to pool low on his own body in response.

Before he'd transformed, he'd intended to avoid being naked with Olivine if he could help it. Now he doesn't care, just aware how restricting the clothes feel. His hand comes to the front of his shirt, but the padded flesh and claws mean his only real option is to shred them, as he usually does. There's some thought, still, that he might want these later. Like human Basch is somewhere in the back, not completely eroded. ]

Yes...please. My hands...

[ He holds them out somewhat helplessly, bracing himself before he sits up. He doesn't want space between them, and his ears fold back, but he doesn't growl or snap. The anger and aggression is't coming as badly as he's used to. ]

[massochism]

I'll take care of it.

[There's no hesitation there, nor in the way he takes that hand gently in his own to squeeze lightly. It's the same sense of reassurance, brief before he moves to unbutton his clothes and pull them off.

At least he'd thought about it before the transformation got too far, he thinks. Basch deserves to keep something off his own, surely. When he's reached the point of tugging down the blond's pants, he offers a small smile, perhaps meant to be a reassurance itself.]

Almost done. Lift your hips for me.

[He's not unused to this act either, honestly. Besides... he wants it done so that the taller man can lean back into him again, selfishly. Once he's finished, he does take that hand again to press his lips to its pads before settling back down.]

[bardische]

[ It speaks to how dazed he is that he just lets Olivine, no protest. Only gentle movements to assist the other's movements. He should feel worthless, or embarrassed, but he doesn't. He feels...safe. Cared for. Safe to be cared for.

When Olivine asks him to lift, he makes no resistance, shifting to help. He breathes a sigh of relief, tail no longer cramped and aching. He doesn't feel naked, per say, not with the thick layer of fur that starts on his upper legs and grows thicker down him, a thinner coat of it on his lower arms. His chest and lower region are still hair, and his feet are still feet, but it feels better, not trapped in those clothes.

Before he can muster words, Olivine's taken his hand. He flinches slightly, ears tipping back in distress. He knows the skin doesn't feel correct, that this is wrong for humans. But then Olivine presses the soft flesh to his lips, and Basch's eyes widen, ears perking up.

Hesitant, he does lean in again, one padded hand on the other's thigh, before he presses their foreheads together, nose dipped in a nuzzle of affection and submission. He's hardly aware of the way his lower regions stir, close to Olivine's leg and out in the open to see.

Somehow his words still work, despite their utter disconnect from any thought or filter. ]

I'm glad you came with me [ He murmurs, a growl to his voice, but no aggression in it. Just a rumble. ]

[massochism]

[oh. the press of foreheads, of Basch's padded hand on his thigh, only makes his flush a little deeper, head tilting into the touch. this feels... sweet? comforting and warm, full of something like acceptance.

that fact is a relief, considering how sure Basch had been that he wanted to be alone. in turn, he hasn't noticed the taller man's stirring, focus squarely on his face. warm hands cradle his face, thumbs brushing along his cheeks, and he can't help but chuckle—giggle, really—at the words, the rumbling tone in his voice.]

I'm glad you let me be here.

[he's so tempted to just lean in, to press their mouths together—not for the first time, and certainly not the last, he's sure—but he still doesn't know if that's something the other would want. as such it's safer for them both if he just lets Basch lead, isn't it? so that it's clear he's not... he doesn't know. using his position in some way to get what he wants. something.]

[bardische]

[ He pulls back in surprise, but only far enough to see Olivine's face. He's frozen, like sudden movement will dislodge the warm hands on his face, the impossibly gentle touch along his skin.

There's no fear or resentment anywhere in Olivine. Like this, he'd know in his bones. That makes his eyes sting, some hurt he doesn't understand with his thoughts muddled still strong enough to feel the balm of acceptance.

It's fortunate for both of them, perhaps, that his impulses are steering him, otherwise he would fret endlessly about whether or not this was alright. But with a whine in his throat and his ears lowered and submissive, he bumps his nose to Olivine's again, then lightly brushes their lips, body straining for any sign of rejection. ]

...alright? [ he manages to ask, the single word a struggle to form.

Later, when he found out Olivine's worry of abusing his position, he'd laugh. He's more worried about taking care of the priest's kindness, or smaller form, or lack of good companions.

But like this, he's blissfully only worried about whether Olivine says yes or stop. ]

[massochism]

[it's enough. more than enough. lips meet his and his instinct is just to lean in, relief on his breath. his hands move only to make sure they're both more secure, pulling back when Basch does. as always, Olivine is not hard to read. there's a soft shyness that remains there, an indicator less of his age and more of his (now more obvious) lack of actual community.]

Ah. Yes.

[very alright. this time, the shorter man can lean in and draw their lips together more, properly, marveling at how warm they are. if fingers drift upward to rub the base of that ear, wanting to hear more of that sound against his mouth... well, he can always apologise later if he must.

it feels silly to stand on ceremony at this point, after all. they're in the wilderness, he's been trying to hold back his feelings for what already feels like forever, and—it seems like Basch reciprocates them in truth. his status as a werewolf means little to nothing; it's just a feature of the man he's come to love the company of. who, he can now just barely feel against his own leg, is very interested.]

[bardische]

[ Basch understands that, now, maybe clearer with the wolf-thoughts in his head. Olivine's pack has not been a good one, if really one at all. And that makes him ache, because the priest wants so much to connect. But Basch doesn't want to overwhelm, either.

Still, when Olivine presses their lips together again, he kisses back more firmly, sighing contentedly even as he's filled with the other's scent, already thinking of rolling together so that their smells are tangled up.

Then there's a hand at his ear, and he moans against Olivine's lips, eyes rolling back into his head. There's no mistaking the way his tail thumps against the ground, or the way his cock lurches against Olivine's thigh.

He shouldn't want someone this intensely this quickly. Not from his human logic, anyway. From his wolf logic though -- this is his, and he has been accepted back, and all he wants is to be close and protect and keep company.

His hands come gingerly to Olivine's side, and when the other does not protest, sit firmer on his waist. Basch kisses again, his tongue pressing between them, and then he shifts, tugging Olivine into his naked lap, absolutely no concern for propriety. ]

[massochism]

[the movements are all fascinating and, frankly, adorable. not to mention the moan at his lips that draws a shiver out of the priest, the lurch of his cock hot against his thigh. he may not know what Basch is thinking fully, but he knows where his mind is settled—as it is embarrassingly often.

foremost in his thoughts is the desire to please, to reward, to give. and to take, but he can curtail that impatience for as long as the werewolf wants. acceptance breaks what thin hold he had on his enthusiasm, a soft groan escaping his lips as hands come to rest at his sides, then move to grasp at his waist.

tongues meet and Olivine is already almost moving into the taller man's lap before the tug, suddenly wishing he weren't in his usual outfit. not that it's terribly hard to remove, but it's an effort he wants to be done with and he doesn't want to pull away from Basch to do it. reluctantly he will, unbuttoning his top and tugging impatiently at its zipper to free his chest, nipple chains falling free with a soft jingle of metal. they most certainly haven't talked about those... but it's fine, surely.]

[bardische]

[ That groan is the most enticing thing Basch has ever heard. He's so relieved, and elated, and just wants more closeness. Olivine obliges again, the warmth of his bulk sliding into Basch's lap.

Then Olivine pulls back, and Basch nearly whimpers in protest, hands tightening for a moment before releasing. He doesn't want to pressure. That's important.

It takes him a moment to realize Olivine is just pulling off more fabric. Basch's eyes widen, the human part of his mind overwhelmed with this trust. And information. His gaze sweeps down Olivine's neck to his torso, smooth and nearly hairless where Basch's -- even human -- is well-covered. But it's the chains that stop him, head tilting. His fingers aren't adept like this, and he touches one with the back of his knuckle, so gently barely feels the warmth of the metal. ]

What are these for?

[ Does it mean he is not supposed to touch? Some promise to the church. Another whine threatens to come from his throat, but if that's the rule, he will obey. Olivine is still in his lap, still beautifully half-naked, still flushes with kissing. Basch is more than happy with this much. ]

[massochism]

[his confusion draws a gentle laugh from Olivine, reaching to brush his fingers through Basch's hair again.]

They're just jewelry. Decoration I added to myself. [gently, he takes the taller man's hand and moves it to cover the nipple ring itself, the flesh hot and nub sweetly swollen.] Touch however you like. I don't mind.

[don't get ahead of yourself, silly puppy.]

[bardische]

[ Decoration? It's something his human mind will have to mull over later, his wolf mind simply equating it to a way to attract a mate. Not a sign not to touch.

And it definitely is attractive, shiny and glittery, drawing attention to how broad and lovely Olivine's chest is. Basch would still be hesitant, if Olivine hadn't places his hand directly over the other's nipple, giving such explicit permission. His breath is tense as he exhales, a doggish whine manifesting this time, tail thudding against the ground. It's a good thing he's too focused on Olivine to drown in mortification at how clearly his emotions are on display. ]

You too [ He whispers, eyes going from Olivine's chest to his face as he swirls the rinnged nub under his two forefingers, before he palms the entire pec, squeezing hard enough for his claws to just scrape skin. His other hand moves to Olivine's bare back, holding him steady while he whimpers again at the feel of warm, smooth skin. ]

[massochism]

Ah-haah...

[Oh, it's so much better than he'd imagined. Warm pads move over the surface of that nipple and he presses down into Basch's hips, expression loose and sweet. Claws scrape skin when he palms the whole pec and Olivine's cock jumps in its confinement.]

I'm not... sure what to... mmmn...

[but his fingers do explore. He wants to feel every difference, the thick fur under his fingers, the soft shift of ears, down his spine and to that thumping tail. This is a first for him, with another person.

But after a bit of exploration he pauses briefly, reluctantly.]

I need to... my pants are...

[in the way. He'll have to move to get them off... tragic really.]