Son of Fenrir 1 (For Honor) (Patreon)

A single braid of silver blonde hair fell, severed from the collection of braids that escaped from under her hemet. She did not stop, she did not slow her assault on her opponent. Her ears echoed with the drumbeat of her heart, her blood sang in her veins as she clashed her longsword against her opponent’s twin axes and monstrous strength. Her opponent bared his teeth in an eager, hungry grin, his glee at the fight only matched by her own.

“You’re slower than usual, Úlfur,” she noted, taking a step back, attempting to upset his balance. “What’s the matter, getting old?”

A single, barking laugh was the only response, as he too stepped back, allowing some distance to form between the two of them. His axes spun in his grip, the coiling, runic patterns etched in the blades catching the candlelight, matching the marks along his pecs, shoulders, and upper arms. Unwittingly, she found her eyes tracing the contours of his muscles, admiring the raw physicality of the wolf before her.

“What’s the matter, Apollyon?” Úlfur teased, pulling her out of her split second of distraction. “Foreplay not cutting it this time?”

Apollyon's lip curled under her helmet at the insinuation, but she refused to let it show in her eyes. Instead, she charged forward, bringing her longsword down in a heavy strike. Úlfur met her attack with ease, blocking her sword with his axes and pushing her back with a powerful shove. Apollyon stumbled, regaining her footing just in time to dodge a sweeping strike aimed at her legs.

“You always did have a way with words, Úlfur,” she growled, lunging forward and thrusting her sword at his chest. Úlfur twisted out of the way, swinging his axes in a wide arc that forced Apollyon to jump back again.

“Words are just words,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Actions speak louder, don't they?”

Apollyon said nothing, narrowing her eyes as she circled around him. Úlfur followed her, his axes at the ready. They were evenly matched, both skilled warriors who had faced each other many times before. This time, like each and every time before, there was something electric in the air, a tension that she couldn't quite describe. It made her heart race, her skin prickle, and a flood of heat between her legs, and she knew that Úlfur felt it too.

They clashed again, their weapons ringing out in the small practice room. Sweat dripped down Apollyon's forehead, and her arms ached from the effort of parrying Úlfur's attacks. She was Apollyon, she was War, but Úlfur's raw strength was far beyond what she was capable of, to say nothing of the speed with which he moved his axes about.

Apollyon doubted that she would win this spar, she had lost against him in every single one of their clashes prior, but she would make sure that Úlfur worked for it. She had managed to score a knee strike earlier to his gut that had already bruised, it was the most damage that she had done to him since their battle at the Shard seven years ago.

As they fought, Apollyon couldn't help but feel a rush of desire coursing through her veins. Even ignoring all that the two of them had done in the time since his Sons of Fenrir stormed the Shard and he'd defeated her, stripped her of her armor and then taken her right there on the battlements, she had loved battle. Fighting Úlfur merely added another layer to it.

She ducked under a sweep of his axes that would have opened her throat, only for his knee to slam into her chin, causing stars to explode in her vision, tendrils of darkness to creep in from her peripheral, but she forced herself to stay conscious, even as her body staggered. Something hooked the back of her leg, pulling Apollyon from her feet, her back slamming into the wooden floor of the sparring ring.

The sound of metal biting into wood echoed through her ears, and despite her attempts, Apollyon found herself unable to turn her head enough to inspect the source of the noise. Before she could move to stand, her breath was knocked from her lungs as a massive weight fell on top of her. Her wrists were grabbed and jerked up over her head, Úlfur using a single, massive paw to hold both of her wrists in place.

With her hands, briefly, secured, his other hand came down and all but tore her helmet off. She glared up at him, her pale blue eyes meeting his smoldering amber colored lupin eyes.

“My win again,” Úlfur said with a grin, his muzzle opening and letting his tongue hang free.

“For now,” Apollyon shot back, refusing to acknowledge the victory. She knew what was coming next, she was even looking forward to it. But that did not mean that she would simply lay back as the wolf-man that had bested her time and time again had his way with her. After all, while not as literally as Úlfur was, she was still a wolf.

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My name is Úlfur, one of the many Jarls of the Vikings of Valkenheim. My clan, the Sons of Fenrir, was by far the strongest clan, as evidenced by our striking deep into Ashfeld while Lodbrok was consolidating the other clans under the War Born. At the moment however, my focus was on the woman under me, my left hand holding her wrists to the floor above her head, my knees keeping her shoulders pinned, and my right hand gripping her hair as I lay my slick, red, wolf cock on her face.

“I told you I was going to win,” I said with a grin, my voice rumbling from deep within my chest, my canines bared as I spoke, my ears twitching with every word.

Apollyon glared up at me, but I could see the lust in her eyes. She wanted this, she wanted me to take her, as I had beaten her, proven myself stronger. Adjusting my posture, but keeping my weight on her shoulders, I tightened my grip on her hair and thrust my hips forward, my cock sliding between her lips. A muffled moan from Apollyon was my greeting, she’d never admit it aloud, but she had long since come to love my dick.

Even if she didn't say it, I could feel it in her kisses, her licks, the way she always seemed eager to wrap her lips around me. A quick thrust of my hips, pulling back then thrusting forward again, had my cock plunging into Apollyon's mouth. A quiet, muffled gagging sound was the only protest from the former Warlord, and I couldn't help but love it.

“Eager for it, aren't you?” I growled, pulling my cock out of her mouth and giving her another quick thrust. “Beg for it, Apollyon. Beg for me to fuck your mouth.”

Apollyon said nothing, instead she wrapped her lips around my cock and slid her tongue along its length, tickling the sensitive spot under the head. She continued to do this, her eyes focused on mine while she moved her head up and down, swirling her tongue around my cock. It was a far better reaction than I had expected from her, and I loved every second of it.

That was when she showed me that she still had some fight left in her. Despite wearing full plate armor, she still maintained enough flexibility to swig her legs up far enough to hook her feet into my armpits. Using her core muscles, leverage, and my own surprise, she threw me off her and onto my back. I just barely avoided landing on my tail, rolled onto my feet, and spun around to face my opponent. With grace that seemed counter to the armor she was wearing, Apollyon leapt to her feet a hungry, lustful grin on her face as she rolled her neck.

“I think that’s enough foreplay,” I said, my voice rumbling low in my chest, even as I kicked off my pants. “Start removing the armor, or I will pry it off of you.”

Apollyon grit her teeth, but her fingers started for the buckles holding her armor in place. She knew that I wasn’t exaggerating about what I would do to her armor, after all, I’d done it in the past. I grinned as I watched her go, her ass wiggling as she removed her pants and pulled off her padded gambeson. Her full, supple breasts hung free of the armor, swinging with each motion, the golden hoops through her nipples making them swing as well. She tossed her clothes away and spun to face me, her blue eyes flashing with eagerness as she bared herself before me.

I approached her, slowly, as though she were prey and I was hunting her. My tongue hung from my muzzle, my cock already standing hard and at attention, a red, thick dick that was easily the size of a mace and as hard as steel. Apollyon did not retreat, in fact, she walked toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck, kissing me passionately. I was all too eager to return the kiss, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her into a tight embrace, letting my hands slide down her body. My fingers found her hips, her round, firm ass, and I squeezed, causing her to moan against my mouth.

Breaking the kiss, Apollyon fell to her knees, her lips trailing across my chest as her hands wrapped around my dick. She gripped it tightly, sliding her tongue along its length as she stroked my cock, a mix of her saliva and my pre lubricating it. With a quick jerk of her wrist, Apollyon brought her head forward, taking my cock into her mouth, and she started to bob up and down, her lips stretching around it, her tongue coiling around it.

With a growl, knowing that she’d get uppity if I let her, I pulled her head off my cock and pushed her to the ground. She rolled around, pushing herself onto her hands and knees just in time for my hand to grab her by the midsection. Her pussy was so wet that I buried myself in her to the hilt on the first thrust. She let out a moan of pleasure, letting me know that she loved it, as I started to thrust into her, my cock sliding in and out of her tight folds.

I placed a hand on Apollyon's back, forcing her chest and face into the ground, keeping her ass up as I kept on pounding her. Apollyon's muffled moans turned into growls as she pressed her ass back against me, her pussy tightening around my dick as her fingers dug into the wooden floor. My own moans and grunts joined her growls and whimpers, my tail whipping about as my balls slapped against her clit.

Apollyon started to move under me, and I let her, she always liked to be in control at least part of the time. Instead, I grabbed her hips and started to move myself, keeping my cock buried inside of her. She hissed and growled in pleasure as I pounded her from behind, our sweat slicked bodies slapping together with every thrust. The room soon filled with the sounds of our moaning, my balls slapping against her, my hand slapping against her firm ass, and her own cries of lust as she clawed at the wooden floor, her moans and cries rising to a fever pitch as she climaxed, her pussy squeezing me tightly.

The moment I felt her orgasm was the moment that I pulled myself out, spun her around, and mounted her once more. This time I placed my hands under her knees, forcing them up, and pushing her back onto her shoulders as I slammed myself into her. The new position caused my cock to angle upward, and it didn't take long before I felt Apollyon climax again, her walls tightening around me as her head rolled back, her back arched, and her cries filled the small training room.

My pace quickened, my hands clasped onto her knees as I used them for leverage to fuck her with wild abandon. It only took a few thrusts for me to feel the tightening in my balls, and a few more before I exploded, filling Apollyon with my seed. With a final grunt, I thrust into her as deeply as I could, forcing my knot into her pussy, and as my cock throbbed inside of her, I felt Apollyon shudder and let out another moan as she climaxed once more, her walls squeezing me tightly.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I thought back to the chain of events that led me to this point…