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PostPosted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 10:23 pm   Reply with quote
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Jezeron and Curtis had a problem. They had problems of their own and mutually shared problems.

Curtis' problem was that all his other proteges were dead. Lord Morrow's torturers had managed to weed a rat out of Curtis' nest, a single squeal and the lot of Curtis' 'back ups' were gone. Broke, projectless, the Assassin Lord turned up on Jezeron's doorstep.

Jezeron had a problem. It was called Curtis. And the one thing which would solve his problem- killing him- was such a daunting, terrifying, paradigm destroying concept that the aging assassin just couldn't bring himself to do it. Jezeron defined himself by what Curtis had done to him, taking away His Creator was a far worse world to live in than one which simply had Curtis living in it. Then there was the idea that trying to kill Curtis might not even work. Jezeron was old, and he was feeling old. His scarred ashen flesh was wrinkled and marred with more ruts than a farmer's field. His eyes were struggling to make definitions to the level that he could not easily read Xio'pan script without bringing the page back and forth, nearer or further out of focus from proximity of his face.
Curtis, by comparison, seemed fresh faced. Somewhere in his fifties or such the Assassin Lord could fool no one with his inhumanity now. The humanoid had hardly aged from the time he had collected the young Drow Elf nearly two hundred years ago and now Jezeron looked like a melting wax work. The elf blood in Jezeron wasn't withstanding age anywhere near as well as Curtis' demonic side was.

The pair sat across from each other at Jezeron's kitchen table. Undrunk coffee steamed between them. Curtis was coiled up at the head of the table, fingers interlocked and placed against his lips, grey eyes glaring out over the mountain ridges of his knuckles, his piercing face glowering across the short distance to Jezeron.
Jezeron's shoulders ached too much to hunch up like his Master. Instead he took the more comfortable of the two seats, that with a knitted cushion supporting his lower back and with the padded arm rests which didn't upset his gnarled callouses as much as the bare wooden frame of Curtis' chair. Instead the elf perched, if he got too comfortable he might not rise at all, but not comfortable enough and his joints would stiffen.

Finally Jezeron broke the silence with a sigh. "I'm not right to go on the hunt any more." He said, a more passive approach than to snap at the man that he hated his guts, believed Curtis' was warped, that his philosophies were malign and that he had lied to Jezeron throughout his life so far. But to anger Curtis was never a wise plan. "Tell me what possible benefit I could gleam from this." He knew Curtis was vain and proud. Knew Curtis wouldn't kill him and see the last of his number decimated. But Jezeron needed more.

Curtis didn't even seem to be breathing. "The Jewel in question is not a mere artifact of economic value but contains magical properties which might suit your condition. Laying hands on the gem and feeding from its power restores vitality... you could be a well oiled tin man once more." He purred.
Jezeron frowned.
"Think about it." Curtis' voice seeped into the elf's ears like tendrils of mist. "You can have a second chance. A real shot at starting a family, that family you always wanted. You've missed that station now..." He smirked.
Jezeron pursed his soured lips, thinking. His initial problem was if he was in dire need of this gem's properties, was he too aged to actually get it? He would need a tool, something. "Tell me more." He sighed, resigning.

Curtis smiled. "The vault it well protected by numerous guards, deep in the earth cocooned in bedrock and mythril. Once we get into the chamber the gem is magically disguised amongst duplicates so we'll need to kill off all the guards in order to have the time to get all the gems in the hopes of picking up the real one. Bring them back, crack the code, voila."

Jezeron rubbed the back of his stiff neck. How to collect so many shinies? "Er... a vault with that protection would need more than a hoard of Etalians to sweep it out. Their hands only grasp so fast..."
"Yes. And Etalian measures have been taken, this is why it is better suited to one man, one skilled man with wisdom on his side."
"It'll take tactics. Something a vault like this has never seen before. And they'll have seen all the trick in the book." Jezeron sighed. "I will think on it. I will see you tomorrow." He half rose, stopping half way in the movement as his spine clicked. His palm rested on the table as he mustered the strength to finish moving.

Curtis was by his side like his shadow. Those demonic human hands extended towards him. In defeat the lonely elf clasped the palm and Curtis helped him straighten.
"Until tomorrow." Curtis' voice lingered longer than his body did. In nothing less than a wink the man was gone.

Jezeron sighed. He shuffled through the stoney house and bimbled through to the ground floor bedroom he had taken to resting in. Stairs were too much trouble for a man who had more rooms than he cared what to do with. He peeled off his robes and slid into bed, his cold feet nuzzled the feralin awake.
"At least you're a good bed warmer." The elf whispered as he grunted and grumbled, shifting to try and get comfortable in the sheets. His mind was on fire, looking for inspiration on a way to fix his and Curtis' problem.
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Oscar Wilde
PostPosted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 10:33 pm  Reply with quote



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Lux was not happy to see his master so sad. He enjoyed every moment he spent with Jezeron, from warming his bed at night to suckling on his fingers in the morning until he awoke and let him out to wiggle and squat. The feralin was the size of a large tom cat. He was not hairless, but rather his hair was so short and so fine it had the texture of a soft shirt. His little body was rotund, his belly round and full with a loose, wrinkled sheath and saggy testicles between his fat short legs. His front legs were a little longer, his chest narrow, and large flaps of extra skin stretched from his elbows to his sides, and his knee up toward his ribs.

Lux was true to his name; soft, plushy, without a claw on his feet or a tooth in his mouth. Likewise his head and neck had no bones in them; they were meant to be expandible so he could suck his head up to his very bony shoulders or expand his throat to eat something large. Of course, no teeth and a soft mouth with a broad tongue meant he didn't make noises like other animals. Instead his mode of communication was to purse his lips and blow air through them to make flatulent little sounds.

When Jezeron came to bed he wiggled his tailless rear and clambered on top of him with a flopping of his extra skin folds. He loved to sleep and eat, but had a bad habit. If Jezeron rolled over he'd roll over onto cold loose change, shiny baubles, and gemstones Lux had a habit of picking up when they went for walks. He liked the clinky and slidy noises of loose change and had deposited a large pile between the sheets, which slid down to Jezeron's sides. Lux pawed Jezeron's belly and flopped down on top of him, his chest on Jezeron's and his butt settled against the drow's groin.

He reached forward and sucked on Jezeron's nose affectionately.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 10:44 pm  Reply with quote
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Jezeron's nose was taking to that of his father's design, Roman and protruding with age. Even so the elf's face wrinkled up as he looked down the flat ridge of his nose at the suckling feralin. 'What a pair we are'. He sighed to himself. "The townsfolk think it's funny. A wrinkly elf and his wrinkly pet." He smirked, lifting his broad hand and brushing it down Lux's back. "But... I've liked Feralins for a long time. People don't know why, you're not just livestock to me. Friends, pets, family..." He sighed and looked around the empty room. Yes he had always imagined himself surrounded by living humanoids and friends, not alone and decrepid with a feralin as a companion.
"A second chance is what I need." He said, softly. He drew a deeper breath which made his chest fill with air, rising up to shift the heavy bulk of his flabby friend.
Jezeron smiled affectionately, nuzzling his fingers through the creases of Lux's skin, careful to stimulate the deeper flesh which hardly got air or attention to keep him supple.

So little was known about Feralins as a species. Why study something only worth eating? But Jezeron had come to learn a few tricks about them as he had raised them over the years. There was a unique fungus which liked to grow in between wrinkles which changed the colour of the feralin's skin over time like blotches of mold on clothing. This fungus was easy to treat by good hygiene, something the tanners knew about as their world was keeping the skin in good condition for boots. Jezeron had spoken to tanners before, bought creams from them. Though his affection for Lux's skin was for love not a desire to make clothes from him later.

He nuzzled his chin to his pet's face, breathing against him and holding him close. He wrapped the blankets around them, feeling the marbles and loose change press against his naked thigh. He grunted, reached down and pushed the rocks, fools gold and coins out of the bed. They clattered to the floor and the tired elf settled down. He smoothed his thumbs behind Lux's ear flaps, scritching him as he pondered their position.
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Oscar Wilde
PostPosted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 10:55 pm  Reply with quote



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Lux loved his squishy, formless face being rubbed. He blubbered air out of his mouth, his eyes closing happily and his head squishing easily into Jezeron's hands, like a water balloon made of living velvet. If one poked him hard and deep enough, one could atually touch his brain or a major nerve. No one really knew or cared why the feralin skeleton ended at the shoulders, all they knew was that it made butchery dreadfully convenient.

When his master pushed his things out of the bed Lux lifted his head from Jezeron's scritching fingers. He made an unhappy noise at his master and trundled off the bed, picking up each coin painstakingly and pushing it back against the drow's sides. He found his favorite gemstone under a table and pulled himself back up on the bed, holding the stone in his cheeks as he settled back down onto his master's bare stomach.

Lux spat the quartz out on Jezeron's stomach and pawed it to make it glitter. He was satisfied even with the little flashes in the low light and curled up on Jezeron's stomach, resting his floppy, squishy head against his chest and falling asleep. He snored uproarously as he dragged in air through his nose slits (whistling terribly) and exhaled with his big, soft, floppy lips flailing around and making noises like a horse with bad indigestion.

In the morning he had a good habit. Licking and pawing didn't wake his master up so well as snuggling between his thighs and giving little licks, sucks and even pinches to his genitals. He sucked one of Jezerons' balls into his mouth, looking up at him as he tugged gently. It was food time.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 11:02 pm  Reply with quote
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Feralin noises were nothing to bother Jezeron. He was so used to their noisy snuffles that he could sleep easily to their snoring which made him a feralin saint amongst many. There was a saying among feralin keepers "no man goes to bed with a feralin looking for sleep." It was noted that Feralins were just too noisy to be kept in the bedroom, but for the lonely elf he would sleep through Lux's papping.

Jezeron rested well, sleep finally taking away the aches and stiffness from his body. Dreams of loved ones, dreams of adventures past. Dreams of places much more homely than this building in Sarreal. Dreams of family, of people he was so much better to be away from, to let his grand nephew rant and spoil elsewhere. This was Jezeron's life for the moment, and until yesterday he had been no body's bitch. Curtis came to mind once more and that uneasy, ugly feeling of a desire to get the man out of his life once more. He had to get that gem.

It was in a state of lucid dreaming where the elf felt Lux nip and suckle on him. He groaned, his testicle was so tender and saggy, egg like in its softness and need for tender care. Yet in its fragility it was so safe in the feralin's boneless mouth. Jezeron sighed in his sleep, shifting his hips slightly. He gulped, his eyes rolling behind closed lids. He let out a soft groan.
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Oscar Wilde
PostPosted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 11:07 pm  Reply with quote



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Lux saw his master lift his hips. Good, he was waking! He released the testicle and wormed his soft little body up Jezeron's to look at him. Nope. He was still asleep, but had shifted. Lux burrowed back down and took ahold of the drow's cock in his mouth. His mouth was wet, soft, and was able to properly hug around his prick due to the fact there were no teeth or bones to get in the way. Feralin farmers often offered their cocks to juvenile or weanling feralin. They sucked like desperate, starving babes. Lux was no exception. Sometimes if he sucked, he got water or milk as a reward.

He was able to push his mouth right up to the root of Jezeron's cock, suckling noisily, every inch of the drow's cock buried deep inside of his throat. He had little muscles all along his throat that helped him swallow without a solid structure, and those squeezed and pumped against his master's cock. He looked up and gave a low whine. Milk would be nice, but he would take a long nice drink too.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 11:14 pm  Reply with quote
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Jezeron felt the sucking tug on his prick, his active mind rummaging for answers. HE groaned again to the pleasure of the mouth and sucking, his hips gently moving. In the slow rock in the soft bed his hips exercised, his muscles squeezed and endorphins pulsed through his slumbering form. His brain latched onto a plan like a frog latches to the lips of a princess.

This sucking beast, his bottomless stomach, the way Lux could pass rocky objects. How he collected sparkly things in his pouches. The elf groaned, pushing harder down Lux's throat, feeling the tool he was going to use. It was a sleepy plan, a dream plan, a plan which could never work. Feralins were nothing but food... right? Jezeron groaned again and this time he woke.

What had he been dreaming of? He blinked a few times and looked down, seeing Lux sucking on his cock. He grunted softly. It reminded him of something important. He rocked his hips back and forth, trying to encourage the dream to come back. "Suck lux...." he whispered. "Suck... Suck..?" He thought, pleasure blooming through his aged body. The idea sounded better and better the more he thought about it. He groaned, his hands gripped the sheets as his cock stiffened, orgasm building, a slow, warm ebb inside his stomach and genitals.
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Oscar Wilde
PostPosted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 11:26 pm  Reply with quote



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Lux wriggled his little boy joyously when he saw his master peeking down at him. He sucked, letting the cock glide back and forth in his wet throat. He wanted something to drink and his master was going to give it to him. He put more effort in his sucking, using his little tongue to probe and explore the thrusting flesh.

He straddled Jezeron's leg and grasped him, his own little hips starting to rub his sheath and balls over his master's leg. Sometimes his master let him have some relief in the morning. He whined, his little hips shoving and pushing his own fat little slimy pink cock over the drow's leg.
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PostPosted: Sat Apr 18, 2015 11:43 pm  Reply with quote
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Jezeron panted softly, his dry lips ajar as hot breath exercised back and forth through his wind tunnel. His eyes closed and wetted behind lids. His callouses and scars felt the pressure of Lux rutting his leg but the old man was beyond caring. He moaned softly, relaxing as Lux suckled him harder.

Sweat mopped his brow lightly as he gripped the bed, his legs shaking in exertion. His mind never rested as he realised the impossible. Feralin, if trainable, could be worked to swallow precious gems. If that were true, all he and Curtis would have to do was bust into the vault. He and his Master could take out the guards and the feralins could snap up the treasures.

But Lux was just one Feralin. How much could he carry, would he fill up on the dud crystals and fail to get the correct gem? Could he be trained to sniff out the real one? Was it just better to bring more feralins? Feralins had never been used before in jewel heists... this could be because they were loud. Could Lux be trained to not frump about so much?

There were a lot of unknowns, but the principle worked. All the factors were there. It would need work. Jezeron felt satisfied that he had come up with an answer. It was a borked answer and it needed fixing, but it was an idea. He felt satisfied in another way also, before he really knew his his cock was jerking and a trickle of ejaculate splashed its way into Lux's throat. The elf groaned and gasped at the exertion, tingles of pleasure erupting through his frame. He was bathed in sweat and realising more and more how much he needed this jewel.

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