First Strike
Copyright© 2025 by Nexii
Chapter 5: The Bow Unstrung
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 5: The Bow Unstrung - An anthro snow leopard princess and an elven paladin clash in a duel, forge a winter treaty, and test how far trust can go behind closed doors. Slow erotic buildup, deeper character psychology, fur fetish and clothing themes.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian Fiction High Fantasy Furry BDSM DomSub FemaleDom Massage Petting Slow
Nexii rapped once on the door. Soft, hesitant.
For a heartbeat she hoped Offering would already be asleep so she could retreat back down the hall and pretend she had never come.
She was wrong.
The door opened. Offering stood there in a deep blue dress, the color of a Vanadian sky right after sunset. No armor. No cloak. Just bare pale arms and a faint bruise on her shoulder from the duel.
Armor she could handle. Formality she could fend off. This felt more dangerous.
“I could not sleep,” Nexii said. “I was thinking about the caravans. How to defend them.”
It was not a lie. It simply was not the whole truth.
“Come in,” Offering answered. “We can pretend it is about caravans for as long as you need.”
The room was dim, lantern turned low. The purple-and-white fur cloak lay folded at the foot of the bed, as if it had been given its own place of honor. Nexii’s eyes went to it first, then to the barrette in Offering’s hair, then everywhere else she should not be looking.
I should not be here. I should have gone west. I should have gone home. I should have done anything else.
“You did not come here for sleep,” Offering said, closing the door. Her voice was calm, but softer than on the balcony. “You have not slept properly in years. You came because you are tired of fighting yourself for one night.”
Nexii’s fur bristled along her shoulders. “Don’t tell me why I am here.”
“I know obsession when I see it,” Offering replied. “You have stared at me for two days like someone aching from cold. You want warmth. You would rather freeze than admit it.”
Heat climbed Nexii’s neck. Her eyes fled to the floor, to the cloak, to Offering’s hands. None of them were safe.
“You talk about truth,” she said quietly. “How honest have you been? Paladins never want anything? Never desire at all?”
Something in Offering’s expression finally cracked.
“I used to want too much,” she said. “I drowned in it. Furs, jewels, excess. I joined the Sisters so my wanting would not eat me alive.”
Nexii blinked. So I was wrong. Again.
Offering’s gaze did not soften, but it became more naked. “When you said I am not your Mistress, that hurt.”
That landed harder than any blow in the duel.
“I did not think you wanted that,” Nexii stammered. “Or that you could.”
“I did not say I wanted to own you,” Offering answered. “I wanted the chance to be the one you trusted when you finally stopped fighting. You threw the word at me like it was ridiculous. As if the idea that I could ever be that for you was laughable.”
Nexii’s throat tightened. Her tail curled in toward her legs without her permission.
“You think I need this,” she said. It came out closer to a statement than a question.
“I know you do,” Offering said. “You live between martyrdom and isolation. Tonight is not about making you mine. It is about you not tearing yourself apart. About letting yourself be held down for a while without it meaning you have failed anyone.”
“And you?” Nexii pushed, because she did not know what else to do with the pressure under her fur. “What do you need? A Vanadian trophy? The snow cat princess you tamed?”
Offering flinched this time. It looked authentic.
“I need you alive,” she said. “I need to know that when we fight this winter, I am not doing it alone. And yes. I need to know you did not reject the idea of me because you found it absurd.”
Silence settled between them like snow.
Offering sat on the side of the bed and held out a hand.
“Nexii. Come here.”
Reluctantly, almost guiltily, Nexii crossed the room. She sat at the edge of the bed, as far from the center as possible, knees together, shoulders tight. Without armor, Offering felt too light. Too close.
“You survived a duel with me,” Offering said, fingers moving to the strap of Nexii’s chainmail top. “I am not going to break you.”
Nexii let out a low growl. Not hostile, just frayed.
The clasps came loose one by one. Each sound made her breathing rougher. When Offering’s palm settled at the back of her neck, she flinched.
Not away. Forward.
Her head dipped and her body leaned, as if something inside had been waiting for that exact weight.
Then the shaking started.
It was small at first, a tremor under Nexii’s fur. Then it spread along her spine, through her shoulders, into her hands. Her claws bunched in the silk sheets.
Offering stilled.
“Nexii?”
“Do not stop,” Nexii whispered. The words scraped their way out. “It will be worse if you do.”
Offering studied her in the lamplight. The Vanadian’s pupils were wide. Her ears were flat, but not in battle fear. A different kind.
She shifted behind Nexii, bracing one arm along the leopardess’s back to steady her. Nexii leaned into it as if into a wall. Her breathing came in quick, shallow pulls.
“This is not a Trial,” Offering murmured near her ear. “You are not being tested. There is nothing to pass or fail.”
Nexii shook her head once. “It feels like one.”
“Then you can fail it and still wake up,” Offering said. “You can look ridiculous or weak or whatever your mind calls this, and I will still be here.”
Her thumb ran slowly along the back of Nexii’s neck in small, steady circles. The movement was not possessive. Just present.
The trembling gradually changed. Less like someone about to bolt, more like someone whose body was finally admitting it was tired. Nexii’s shoulders dropped a fraction. Her head bowed forward.
“Let me have you for this,” Offering said. “Only this. One night. No oaths. No collar. Just rest.”
Nexii’s answer was a half-groan, half-breath. “I am afraid.”
“I know,” Offering replied. “You act like you fear nothing. But this is the one thing you cannot do alone.”
Nexii’s eyes squeezed shut. “Then continue.”
Her voice was barely audible, but it was still a choice.
Offering took the cloak from the foot of the bed, shook it out with practiced ease, and draped it around Nexii’s shoulders. The fox fur spilled down across her chest and arms, heavy and warm. Nexii stiffened, then melted a little as the guard hairs brushed her ears.
The sound she made was almost a purr, almost a protest.
“I knew you would like that,” Offering said softly. “You have been staring at it since the first day.”
“Not ... that much,” Nexii muttered.
“Mmm,” Offering breathed, not believing her.
She shifted closer, pressing along Nexii’s back, arms circling the cloak to hold it in place. It felt like being wrapped and pinned at once. Nexii’s breathing hitched. Her claws loosened on the sheets.
“You came here for me,” Offering said quietly against her ear. “Not for caravans. Not for duty.”
Nexii shivered once more. This time the arousal was winning over fear.
Offering started with a single finger along the inner exterior of her right ear. Slow, gentle, testing. That was all it took for the shivers to diminish. Light quick breaths took their place.
The sensation was stimulating. Like being out on the tundra, the arctic wind whipping through her fur. Not the cold itself. The flush that came right after. That fierce, involuntary rush that made her chest tighten and her pulse climb. Offering’s touch wasn’t cold, yet it triggered the same reflex. Breath quickening, heart racing, body waking with a sharpness that felt too close to hunger.
“Good. You’re doing well,” Offering could see the tail quivering had diminished as well.
Yes, she is good. Too good at this.
Maybe I could just let her do this for a short while.
Just while I recover.
Once the shaking had ended, Offering took this as a cue to use her other hand. In the same manner, she stroked the interior outside of each ear in tandem.
This time, it made Nexii’s shoulders rise and quiver. Even this required a moment to adjust to. Vanadians didn’t do slow. Her body expected heat, urgency, teeth. The careful tracing confused her in a way that left her breath hitching.
Or maybe for just a little longer.
It felt like drinking elven wine. Sweet and yet more dangerous than it seemed. Too easy going down. She moved her head slightly as the touches circled around the entire outside surface of her ears. And she felt Offering pausing with every little movement, which made her anticipate.
I’m showing her too much. She’ll see this. She always sees too much.
Offering let her fingers slow, then lifted them away entirely. For a heartbeat Nexii thought she had stopped. The absence of touch felt like someone had taken away a fire she had just started to admit she needed.
Then the fur brushed her ear.
Not fingers this time. The fox trim skimmed the outer edge in a light, circling stroke. Softer than skin, softer than snow. Nexii’s breath caught so sharply it made her ribs ache.
Of course she is using the cloak.
The trim traced the ridges of her ear, then the vulnerable hollow just behind it. Nexii’s shoulders rolled on instinct. She did not pull away. She could have. Every muscle in her body knew how to twist out of a hold, how to roll and shove and put Offering on her back instead.
She stayed still.
I trusted her in the hall with the treaty. I can trust her with this. For a little while.
The fur drifted lower, from her ear to her upper jaw, then forward along her cheek. It tickled her whiskers. That small, involuntary twitch sent a sharper jolt through her than she expected. Her jaw loosened on a quiet sound that was not quite a sigh and not quite a growl.
The room seemed to narrow. Lantern light, silk sheets, the weight of the mattress under her knees. Everything outside the radius of fur and finger claws blurred at the edges.
Offering paused. Nexii felt the cloak hover just off her skin, waiting.
“You are still with me,” Offering murmured near her ear. Not a question. A reminder.
Nexii swallowed. Her tongue felt heavy.
“Of course I am,” she managed, “I am not that easy.”
It came out more defensive than she liked. The answer was still sharp enough to satisfy her pride, but the truth of it sat underneath. She was not pushing the elf away. She was letting this happen. Choosing it.
The trim brushed her whiskers again, slower. Nexii’s eyes unfocused for a moment, a glassy shimmer crossing them before she blinked it back.
Offering felt the change and eased her pace, giving Nexii’s neck one grounded stroke with her hand before returning to the fur. The gesture was steady, anchoring. It did not pull Nexii all the way back. It only marked where “here” was, in case she drifted too far.
Nexii chased the next touch without meaning to, leaning a fraction into the cloak when it slid across her cheek.
Just a little further. I can stop. Before she takes me too far.
Her body did not believe that any more than Offering did.
Offering pulled the cloak away to shake it out beside her. The fabric unfurled like a slow wave, rich mink catching the candlelight. She allowed herself one appreciative glance before turning it around, mink-side facing Nexii.
The first touch was a grazing brush across Nexii’s chest.
The reaction was immediate. Teeth clenched. Breathing sharpened. The kind of rush she recognized from a duel, only warmer and far less controllable. Her ears twitched despite her effort to hold them firm, and her tail betrayed her in small, involuntary motions.
Unfair. She is winning again.
Offering pressed the mink more fully to Nexii’s chest. Heat gathered under the weight of it, trapped by the dense fur. Nexii’s shoulders dropped back against the sheets, not quite surrendering but no longer fully braced. Every exposed part of her felt vulnerable. Taken. Adored. She could feel Offering’s eyes on her, tracing reactions she could not hide.
After a few quiet minutes, Offering shifted to the next part of her plan. The purple side of the cloak swept over Nexii in long strokes, up and down, then side to side, building into a slow, deliberate rhythm. Swirling motions caught against the sensitive fur along her chest, and each pass over her nipples made her neck tilt or roll, as if her body were answering a question she refused to speak aloud.
I’ve lost. This is the end of the duel.
Not only the duel in the arena, but some deeper contest she had been pretending not to play. The arena blurred with the room. The sensation of being pinned, held, admired for putting up a good fight, pulled her down into that memory. Perhaps that was the point. Not winning or losing, but being caught.
“Nexii?” Offering’s voice came gently. Concerned. The long moans had faded into a soft, dangerous silence.
Her own name cut through enough haze to pull her halfway back. Reality and memory overlapped. Lantern glow became winter sun. Cloak fur became snow. But Offering was there in both places, grounding her.
Nexii reached up, found Offering’s wrist, and pulled her down. This time there was no resistance. She brought the elf on top of her in the same position as the duel.
Pinned again. Only now it was chosen.
Offering steadied herself above Nexii for a silent moment. Her first instinct was to pause. Reset the ground. Give the princess time to breathe. She lowered one hand to stroke behind Nexii’s ear the way she had before, testing whether the connection was still there.