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This whole once-a-month upload schedule? Yeah, it seems I'm not good at that. Seems like I can't wait. Chapter three, go! Enjoy, people!

• Master Meridian

Blood and Water

More Than Blood

The summons came in the middle of the night; a mental command that roared through Deacon's mind with the force of a ballista. It almost startled him out of bed entirely, and he scrabbled at his sheets as he tried to become aware of his surroundings. His room was lit by soft firelight, and it took the young fox a couple of moments to realize that the fire was born of his left paw.

He stared down into the seething flame for a second before he curled his fingers into a fist and willed himself to breathe again. The arcane fire sputtered out as the echo of his father's voice crashed and rattled around the inside of his skull. There were no words to the call this time; Oswell must not have seen fit to articulate himself in the heat of the moment. Instead it had been a sensory summons; a feeling that Deacon needed to attend to. With the force of his father's practiced mind behind it, the command was something he could not resist.

The presence in his mind faded quickly as Oswell's attention left Deacon's thoughts. As he swung his legs out of bed and grabbed for his coat and trousers, Deacon allowed himself a sigh of relief. His father had only called for him. Oswell hadn't seen fit to rattle around inside his son's thoughts and feelings that time. It was so much the better, since the dream that Deacon had been in the middle of had involved Bain. He shivered as he tugged the trousers on and left the room.

He'd tried. He'd really, properly tried to push the events of his first solo extraction of the otter's essence out of his head. He'd even taken to avoiding Bain in the halls of the manor for as much time as he'd been able to get away with. It wasn't until Bain had gone to Oswell and suggested that maybe he'd done something wrong and caused Deacon to try to avoid him that he'd had to concern himself again.

The second extraction Deacon had conducted had gone considerably better than the first. He'd managed to keep control of the dreamscape and bring the otter to a rapid and satisfactory finish. A quick stop to the beaker had seen him gone from Bain's presence again before the otter woke. The third went similarly, though Bain's mind had added certain elements to the fantasy that had woken the same problem in Deacon's own loins. Just being near the otter was bad enough, but to be inside his deepest fantasies? It was affecting him more than he liked and far more than he understood.

When Bain wasn't around, it wasn't a problem. As he darted through the halls of his home and forced the memory of his own dreams into the furthest, darkest corners of his mind, Deacon heaved a deep sigh. When the otter wasn't there, he wasn't teasing and flirting or whatever it was he was really doing. When the otter wasn't around, Deacon didn't have to listen to him joke and laugh. He didn't have to see how happy Bain was to be there. He didn't have to be reminded how trapped he felt. He didn't have to be reminded how Bain was a perfect embodiment of everything that he'd started to fear about himself.

That was a thought that Deacon had pushed far, far from his conscious mind with the kind of control and careful effort that could only be mustered by a magi. The concealment of thoughts from other magi was a difficult art to master. Anyone who was trained in the process of forcibly extracting information from another's mind - an exceptionally advanced technique nearly unique to aerun-attuned magi like his father - could learn how to force their way through any mental defenses and pluck thoughts and feelings out of another person's head.

As he made his way down to his father's laboratory, Deacon pulled his coat tighter around his middle. The only way his most private thoughts and fears could go undetected was if Oswell wasn't looking for them. If he sniffed a hint of defiance from his son, then Deacon would have to have his entire mindscape ripped open so that all of his secrets could be revealed. It'd happened only once before, and that was why he'd never tried to hide anything from his father since. He still felt the echoes of pain from that encounter, almost seven years earlier.

When he arrived in the laboratory, it was to the sight of Oswell pacing across the floor. Behind him was one of the tables he'd first woken Bain on, and a white sheet soaked through with spots of blood rested on its surface. Arrayed across the table, Deacon could see from even his distance a considerable number of arcane experimental tools. The similarity to devices of torture both arcane and mundane was not lost on him. "You summoned me, father?" he asked with a bowed head. Better to announce than give Oswell the thought that Deacon was trying to hide.

He couldn't see the older fox's gaze shoot up and over to him, but he did feel the comb of Oswell's will as it raked through his surface thoughts. With a shuddering breath, Deacon immediately forced his mind open and exposed for his father. He trembled, and one eye began to feel twitchy as his thoughts were invaded.

What felt like minutes of assault lasted mere seconds, and he slumped forward and almost fell to the floor when Oswell removed his mental probe. "Yes," he said, though he sounded distracted as he turned back to his table. "Yes... I did. Strange thoughts from you, boy. Flickers of emotion when you slept." He glanced back over his shoulder. "What were you dreaming of?"

"I do not remember, father," he replied after a moment. He caught the furrow of Oswell's brow and quickly tried a small smile. "I think I was dreaming of mother."

The older fox's eyes narrowed slightly, but he huffed and nodded once as he turned back to the table. "Sentiment will not do you any favors, boy," he said, and waved Deacon over to his side. "Come," he said as his son approached, "observe. Look." He waited until Deacon reached the edge of the table before he swept back the blooded sheet.

Covered in lacerations, gashes and bloody holes was Bain.

Dead.

Deacon gasped and stumbled back from the grisly sight. His eyes widened as they filled with tears born from a place he didn't know existed. His footpaws caught on one another and he fell to the floor, and pain flashed up his spine as he awkwardly landed on his tail. "No," he mumbled as his gaze lifted to his father's dispassionate expression. "No... why?"

Both of Oswell's eyebrows lifted as he perked one ear. "You know that the otter was never going to be our guest for very long, boy," he said, as he waved a paw over the broken body on his table. "His purpose here has been to aid in my experimentations. This is all he was ever here for. Not to become your friend. Not to become a distraction." His eyes narrowed again. "He was here for me, boy. Not you."

"And you killed him?" Deacon whimpered as he forced himself up off the ground again. His breaths came quick and hard as he glared at his father. "He helped us and left his home for us, and you just _murdered_him!"

Sudden anger bloomed in Oswell's face and he lifted a paw to point a single finger at Deacon's face. Agony bloomed in the younger fox's mind under his father's mental touch, and he buckled down to his knees again as Oswell stepped forward. "You will _never_raise your voice to me in this house!" he roared. His voice resonated with arcane compulsion, and it echoed off every wall and reverberated around inside Deacon's skull. "Do you understand, boy? Not ever!"

Deacon couldn't offer any response. Assaulted from within and without and with fire that crawled through every corner of his brain, it was all he could do to clutch at his ears and try to shut out the raw force of his father's woken rage. When he opened his muzzle, only a whimper was able to slip free. It broke into a whine and then a cry of pain as he fell to the floor. "You are not some kit prone to back-chatter and wise-crackery!" came the echo of his father's words, in a sound that came more from mental implantation than from his muzzle. "You are an adult in your own right, but you will learn your place or I will see you suffer until you do!"

The pain broke as suddenly as it had begun. Oswell lowered his paw and stalked over to Deacon with a quiet growl. "Do you think you know better than I how to conduct my work? Hmm? Do you think you can game me?" He reached down to try and grab Deacon about the neck, but the younger fox curled in too tight for a good grip. With a wordless snarl, he curled his fingers in against his palm and lifted his arm. Deacon's body lifted under the force of his exerted will as Oswell stared hard into the younger fox's eyes. "You have no idea what I work toward. You have no idea what darkness crawls across the world. You think that the sacrifice of a single little otter peasant is too great a price to pay to save hundreds of lives? Thousands? Hmm?"

From his lifted vantage point, Deacon could look down over Bain's body. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him, but the momentary urge to throw up on his father was resisted. "He was a living being," he managed to bite out, before his father released his telekinetic grip and allowed Deacon to fall to the floor again.

As Deacon tried to keep his eyes down, Oswell strode over and knelt down before his son. With a single extended paw, he grabbed at Deacon's chin and tilted it up. While the younger fox refused to meet his gaze, the elder gave a quiet growl. "I warned you about attachment to him, did I not?"

He pushed back and stood up straight again as Deacon tumbled down on his back. "It seems I must take matters into my own paws yet again," he muttered as he folded his arms. "You have failed this test. I had honestly hoped and expected better of you."

The words echoed through Deacon's mind for a moment before he could bring himself to speak. "T-test?" he asked, as he fought down the surge of anger that threatened to break through him. Murdering Bain had just been some sort of test for him?

"Yes, a test." Oswell drew the sheet back up over Bain's cold body before he turned back to his son. "That is not your little friend atop the table. Bain is upstairs, in bed and asleep and I believe presently dreaming of home."

Deacon blinked. "But then, who is-"

A snarl from Oswell cut him off. "Speak to interrupt me again and you will have neither answers nor the ability to speak again, I promise you." He gave Deacon a few moments to quietly whimper and fall silent before he continued. "Hmf. This is a simulacrum; a flesh and blood construct born of Bain's essence. It is him in every physical way, though it lacks his spirit." His eyes narrowed. "I could not afford to end the life of the original otter yet even if I were so inclined."

With a slow, deep breath, Deacon pushed himself up to his knees. He bowed his head after a moment as his mind raced. Bain was still alive, but his emotional outburst... "A question, if it would please you," he said.

"It would not," Oswell replied with a shake of his head. With a paw raised to forestall any argument and a glare that wiped the defiance from Deacon's mind, he continued. "You spend your time with the peasant at the moment because I wish it so. You do it because I expect you to present his situation here as a positive one, and because he cannot believe himself to be a prisoner. It would darken his spirit and taint his essence if he were to know his true situation. You are to tell him naught but honesty unless it would interfere with my efforts. He is to believe himself safe and happy at all costs.

"But you cannot allow yourself to think you are beholden to any other than me. The boy is a perverted little beast and his time in our care is limited to the difficulty of my experiments." The older fox huffed as he folded his arms. "And he lingers in your thoughts more than you try to let on. Do not think I have not caught you wondering about the validity of my methods. Your mind is mine as surely as your body and your life are. Do not allow yourself the delusion of freedom. Your future is set."

Deacon nodded somberly as he locked his eyes on the floor. His mind was carefully left blank. If anything, his father would sense him as being perfectly attentive and open to any invasive, arcane means of inquisition. "I allow myself nothing that you do not offer, father," he said.

Oswell gave him a nod as he tilted his head up. "See that you remember that, boy. Bain is of considerable value to my experiments, but I will not abide corruption in you. Should you seek ever to lift your voice to me again, you will find yourself with no voice left to raise."

"It will not happen again, father," Deacon replied without lifting his head.

But his father wasn't done yet. "Should you seek ever to undermine my work again, privately or publically, you will find yourself swiftly the focus of my next experiment. I have tentatively titled it, 'Musings On The Limits Of Mental Pain In Juvenile Vulpines.' I think you will fit the experiment nicely."

"I will raise not a word against you, I promise," he said, as a shiver of fear worked through him. Whether or not Oswell was serious about such an experiment, the threat was very clear.

Finally, Oswell reached out to grab Deacon by the headfur. He yanked his son's head up until their eyes met. "You are a magi. You are my son. I am concerned for you. The otter represents more than one perversion. I will not have him poison your mind with his willfulness, nor your loins with his vile fantasies. We may play to them in the interest of our work, but I will not catch you sharing in them for a single second. You do not have friends, and you certainly will not count him as one. You have me and you have your duty, and you have nothing else. Do you understand me?"

The shiver of dread that wound up Deacon's spine couldn't have gone unnoticed, but Oswell might have put it up to the innate fear of reprisal that he'd worked so hard to instill in his son. "I understand, father. Forgive my short-sightedness."

"This time I shall. I will not be so kind again." He glanced up at the ceiling. "Something seems to have roused Bain. See to him. Calm him down." His brow furrowed as his ears twitched back slightly. "And remember that you are to pretend friendship, boy. You extend the real thing at your own peril."

Without waiting for another word, Deacon kept his head bowed and darted back to the stairs again. No sooner was he out of sight than he let out the breath he'd held on the run back. Danger. That's what his father represented. No, he quickly corrected himself. His father wasn't the true danger. Bain. Bain was the danger. His father was dangerous, but Deacon knew he'd only run afoul of the older magi if he was stupid enough to defy him.

As he made his way up through the manor, Deacon allowed himself to relax a little. At least when Oswell had raked through his mind, he'd not managed to find what the younger magi tried to hide. That had been his gamble; Oswell could beat down any mental defenses that Deacon could possibly have erected, but he'd not been methodical enough to find something carefully concealed. A stone wall was good protection, but it was better that one's enemies not even know there's something to attack.

It didn't solve Deacon's problem, though. There was only so much that he could try to conceal before Oswell got lucky and caught him out. Eventually he'd get suspicious enough to root all the way through his son's mind, and when that happened there'd be no stopping him. Every little fear and concern in Deacon would be exposed. If that happened...

When he arrived at Bain's door, it took the fox a few moments to calm down. The mental image of Bain's duplicate down in his father's lab, broken and bloody and empty of life, was stuck in him. He forced it down as best he could as he lifted a paw, and hesitated only a couple seconds more before he gave a tentative couple of knocks. "Bain?" he quietly called out. "Are you awake? Are you alright?"

Faster than he'd expected, the door swung inward. The otter was there, one paw on the door and dressed only in the silken trousers that he'd first picked out days earlier. He'd taken good care of them, and had barely been seen in any other clothing since. "I'm fine," he said, as he stepped back from the door. "Are you?"

When the otter waved him in, Deacon stepped into the room without even realizing. "Yes, I... I'm fine," he replied as he glanced over at Bain. He watched on as the otter quietly shut the door behind him. "Why do you ask?"

Bain just shrugged and gave the smallest of smiles. "Good ears, I guess," he said, as he twitched one of them. "Woke up. I thought I heard your father shouting. It sounded like he was shouting at you."

One of Deacon's ears perked up at that as he cocked his head. The otter had to have damn good hearing to have noticed that. Even with every door to the house open, the distance alone would have been enough to stifle most sound. "He... was," Deacon replied after a second. Naught but honesty, unless it would interfere with Oswell's experiments... those had been his father's words. "I made a mistake. He sought to correct me on it."

But Bain's brow furrowed with a deep frown. "I couldn't hear the words, but he didn't sound like he was teaching," he said. The otter hugged himself tightly as he leaned back against the door. "He just sounded mad. Very, very mad. Why?" When Deacon hesitated, he smirked and added, "And don't say it's just magi stuff."

Deacon couldn't bring a smile to his face as he sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully considered his words. His father's attention was back on his work, but he could feel the lingering sense of Oswell's attention on him. "My father was... concerned that I was spending too much time in your presence," he finally replied. He glanced up and met Bain's confused gaze. "He believes that you are a bad influence on me."

"I've been called that before," Bain admitted with a smile. He stepped gingerly over to stand in front of Deacon before he sank down to the floor before the fox's legs. His own curled in beneath him as he looked up and met Deacon's eyes again. "For what it's worth, though? You're a good person, Master Deacon. I like you. You've made this whole thing a lot easier to understand and easier to bear."

In spite of himself, Deacon gave a quiet snort and shook his head. "What's there to bear?" he muttered as a note of bitterness sneaked into his voice. "Near free run of a grand old manor, anything you need brought to you on a whim, a student of magic here to tend to your every desire... some quite literally..." When he looked over at Bain again, the otter had recoiled slightly. "What is it?" he asked.

Bain just shook his head slowly. "You sounded more like him," he replied after a moment with lowered voice. "You sounded like your father for a second there."

As his eyes widened, Deacon shook his head vigorously and heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"At least your father's here," Bain continued. He brought his knees up against his chest and wrapped his arms tight around them. His chin came down to rest atop those knees as he looked up at Deacon. "I remember home. I remember my mother and father. I've never been away from them so long. I miss them. I miss my friends. Your father's been nice to me. Generous, yes... but he's not you." He gave a slight shake of his head. "You're making this bearable for me. Not him. So... whatever he's angry with you for... I just wanted you to know that I'm glad to have you here."

Deacon's ears twitched back to hide the beginnings of the blush there. The warmth spread through the rest of him as he shook his head slowly. "I... am flattered, Bain, but I don't really do all that much," he replied after a moment. "I'm sure your friends back home are worth considerably more to you than I, and that is quite alright." He brushed a footpaw forward to gently nudge at the otter's leg. "Besides, most of my purpose is simply to drain you in particularly enjoyable ways."

The otter yawned through a chuckle and cocked an eyebrow as he shrugged. "You enjoy draining me, then?" he asked with a grin.

Again Deacon felt his eyes widen, and he shook his head abruptly as he raised both paws as if to ward off an attacker. "No, that's not what I meant," he answered. The words rolled out of him in a rush as Bain began to laugh quietly. "You know that's not what I meant," he growled.

"It's what I meant, though," Bain countered with a chuckle. He shifted closer and turned himself about to press his back against the side of the bed. His head leaned to the right and came to rest gently against one of Deacon's legs. "And I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy every little bit of it. Though, I have to ask," he added as he looked around uncomfortably, "is your father listening?"

The question momentarily threw Deacon, and he hurriedly reached out with his senses to make sure that Bain hadn't picked up on something he'd missed. But there was nothing at all; in fact, there was the distant sense of his father, having retired to sleep. They were alone. "No," he finally replied. "Not at the moment. Why?"

Bain still looked more nervous as he finally turned his gaze back up on Deacon. "Because I had a question about your... extractions," he said after a moment. "Not just yours, but... well, when your father did it, too."

With a forced smile, Deacon reached down and patted the top of the otter's head. "You may always feel free to ask about what we're doing," he replied as he staved off a yawn of his own. Late as it was and as tired as he was, the knowledge that Oswell wasn't actively or passively monitoring him gave him energy enough to tend to Bain. "I can't promise I can explain it to you, but I can try."

"I'm sure you can answer this," Bain assured him as he folded his arms across his chest. He fell silent for a moment before he drew in a deep breath and looked up at Deacon. "When you are... well, extracting from me... do you know what's going on in my thoughts? Do you know what the fantasies are that you're using to, ah... you know..."

While Deacon was sure that the sharp aversion of his eyes and the way his paw twitched away from Bain's head gave the answer away, he still stuttered and stammered as he tried to find the right answer. As Bain looked more and more uncomfortable, it only forced him to speak before he was ready. "You, ah.... you really like me, I think," was what came out.

Bain gulped as he looked back down at the floor again. "Well, if you can see into my fantasies... yeah, you probably know what I am. I'm just surprised that Master Oswell hasn't turned me over to some guardsmen yet."

"Why?" Deacon asked, before he could articulate further. When Bain looked up in confusion, the fox shook his head slowly. "Sorry, I mean... I know why. It's... it's unnatural, and the gods condemn it, and the crown outlawed it, but..." Each word seemed to push Bain's concern to a new level, and Deacon shook his head again as he tried to draw a slow breath. "I mean... why... are you?"

Bain shrugged. "Why are you?" he countered.

It was Deacon's turn to broadcast concern and confusion as he cocked his head to the side. "Me? I'm... I'm not," he answered after a moment. His tail thumped against the bed as it tried to tuck between his legs. "I've been here, in this manor, for sixteen years. I never really leave. I never really see anyone save for my father and I certainly don't look at him like..." An involuntary shiver ran through him. "I don't look at anyone. I don't know anyone to look at!"

"I'm here now, though," Bain said as he turned around to face Deacon head-on. Even from his lower position he could see how uncomfortable the young fox had become. "I asked you, remember? What you thought about when you tended to yourself? Everyone knows what the queen looks like, and everyone knows her daughter and how beautiful she is." He lifted his eyebrows as Deacon began to squirm. "You brushed it off."

But Deacon just shook his head. "I don't think about anyone!" he insisted.

But the otter wasn't done. His voice remained soft and gentle as he looked up at Deacon, even while Deacon looked anywhere but back down at Bain. "Even now?" he asked. "Because... when you did your first extraction with me, after you left, I thought I saw-"

"You were wrong," Deacon interrupted, as he pushed off the bed. He almost knocked the otter off as he darted for the door. "I'm sorry, I have to go," he added, as he pulled it open and darted out.

Behind him came Bain's call. "No, wait!" echoed down the hall around Deacon, before the door shut quickly behind him. It started to open again, but Deacon waved a paw behind him and pushed it closed again. By the time Bain was able to get the door open again, Deacon had vanished from the hall.

At first, Deacon started to head to his bedchambers, but then he realized that Bain knew where they were. He might come looking. He thought instead perhaps the empty experiment chambers, but the last thing he wanted was to be near the corpse of the fake-Bain. Air was what he decided he needed as he reached the balcony overlooking the front doors. Without a moment's hesitation, the fox leaped the railing and vaulted to the floor below. He made the leap more smoothly, and no paw caught the rail that time. His tail nicked it though, and the twinge of pain saw him twist in the air.

It took the entire descent for Deacon to take control of his fall, and he landed paw first on the floor. The surface rippled out from the contact as Deacon spread the force of the impact out, and he collapsed silently under his motion into a crumpled heap a moment later. He sighed softly and shook his head. Idiot. Maybe next time he'd make the jump properly and not have to rely on magic to save him from a bone-crushing impact. He stood quickly and brushed himself off as he stretched out his mind. Mercifully, he didn't sense his father's probing thoughts. He didn't want to be disciplined for trying the jump again, after all.

The front door swung itself open as he waved a paw at it, and began to pull shut again even as the fox strode through. A cool breeze tugged at his coat as he looked about the grounds of his father's manor. There was a village nearby, but he wouldn't reach it until morning. The forests to the west were dangerous at night; something about his father's work seemed to attract monstrous creatures to it.

Instead, Deacon wrapped his coat more tightly around his middle and headed to the east. The grounds that his father had claimed were not inconsiderable, but there was a small lake that served as the eastern boundary. He'd once been told that he was forbidden from ever leaving the grounds and, while he definitely felt the need to escape the stifling walls and Bain's questions and his father's accusations, the last thing Deacon needed was to bring more trouble upon himself. He could only run so far.

He heaved a sigh as he carefully searched through his mind. The fox didn't allow himself the freedom of his own thoughts until he was certain Oswell's focus wasn't on him. While he knew that his father would be able to penetrate his mind even from so far away as the lake, the effort required at that distance would give him enough time to hide himself. He could think freely at the lake, as long as Oswell didn't come out after him.

Not that he needed to take the trip often. His father had become aware that it was one of Deacon's favorite places to go when he needed a little privacy. He'd even allowed it from time to time, and had told his son that it was necessary that he be allowed to be alone with his own thoughts as he grew. When pressure became too much to handle and there was only the source of the pressure there to help, he'd fled to the lake. He'd taken solace in the breeze and the reflections in the water's surface. Age had given him a firmer grasp on his emotions, though. The trips had faded and finally stopped, until that night.

A glance up made the fox's heart sink slightly. The night sky was clouded over completely, absent the sparkling, flickering pinpoints of the stars in the heavens. He almost imagined he could see the clouds themselves through the dark, shifting slowly as they drifted by on the wind. Many a frustrated night had been spent staring up at those stars and wondering if his mother could see him. Maybe she would have had the answers to his problems now.

But Deacon knew that he had no solutions of his own. The shadowy ripples in the waters of the lake offered him no solace as he approached. Nature wasn't about to offer him any simple or clear answer that night, and Deacon glanced up again as thunder rolled overhead. He scanned the horizon as best he could as a distant flash of lightning split the night sky, and another rumble echoed across the landscape a few seconds later. "Great," he muttered to himself as he dropped down to sit on the edge of the lake. "At least I can weather that storm."

What was wrong with him, anyway? As Deacon pulled his legs up and dropped his head down to rest atop his knees, he took a slow breath. Logic. Reason. Those were the qualities of magi, and those were the qualities that he needed to listen to. He had to do just as his father had always taught him: isolate the problem, break it down to its core components, and individually address them. He took another breath and held it a moment before he willed himself to relax and let the air slip back out again.

Problem: he'd enjoyed - far, far too much - his extraction from Bain. No... no, that wasn't his problem. Deacon's ears flattened as he buried his muzzle more firmly against his legs. That was a symptom of the problem. That was a side-effect of the problem. The real problem was that he'd found himself interested in a male.

It hadn't been intentional. It hadn't been desired. Everything Deacon had ever been taught had told him it would never happen, or that it was wrong and unnatural and unholy and required a purge of fire. The gods condemned it. The crown's laws condemned it. His father had made it entirely clear how he condemned it.

That didn't mean that the fox knew how to deal with that problem. Why was he interested in Bain? Why did the otter's teasing nature get to him so? Why had he found himself so involved in the extraction process? The implication that he was... well, that, was entirely unacceptable. He wasn't like Bain. He wasn't that sort.

Deacon sighed again. He had the problem now, though. That was the core issue. He was, against his will and against everything he knew, attracted to the otter. He'd isolated the problem. Next, he had to break the problem down to its core components.

Before he could focus his thoughts, he felt a tingle in his awareness. Someone was coming. Deacon immediately buried his thoughts deep and shrouded them as he had everything else regarding Bain since the troubles had begun. If it was somehow his father coming out to see him-

"Master Deacon?" came Bain's quiet call.

The fox's eyes squeezed shut as he tried to curl himself tighter into a little ball. Maybe if he was just quiet, the otter would leave. Maybe if he wasn't there, he'd be able to sort himself out and go back to normalcy. Deacon wasn't sure what would happen if Bain started talking to him at length about his problems.

But if Bain didn't see him, maybe he'd go wandering somewhere else. He might head the other direction. He might get lost, or caught by something else prowling in the night. Deacon knew he could summon more than enough magic to protect himself. Bain was a baker's son. He wasn't trained to fight, and he certainly didn't have magi powers to ensure his safety. Breath hissed between clenched teeth as he squeezed his eyes more tightly shut. "I am over here," he called back.

The otter's footsteps began to approach him more directly as Deacon allowed his muscles to fall slack. His legs slid out under his head as he leaned back, and he planted both paws to the dirt either side of him as he looked up into the sky again. The fox reminded himself that Bain didn't understand his position and didn't know just how much more difficult he was making Deacon's life.

He kept his silence until he sensed Bain a mere few footsteps behind him. "What are you doing out here?" he asked as the otter stopped. "I explained to you when we woke you that you would not be allowed to leave the manor unless accompanied by either my father or myself, and that you were not to leave the grounds for your own safety."

Deacon let his head tip back further to bring Bain into view. Though upside down, he caught the somber expression on the otter's face as he shrugged. "I'm not alone," he argued, voice quiet as he took another tentative step forward. "And we're still on your grounds, aren't we?"

With a nod, Deacon lifted his head again and stared out over the lake. "They're my father's lands," he replied. "The empire holds no law here. His word is the only law in his territory. He administers the crown's justice on any who enter." A shiver ran through him. While his father had the power to declare the otter's tastes and desires perfectly acceptable within his grounds, Deacon knew Oswell would never do such a thing.

"You're afraid of him," Bain said, as he sat down beside Deacon.

It was no question, but it still begged a response. Deacon kept his eyes off Bain as he shook his head. "He is immensely powerful and I have nowhere to go should he release me from his service," explained the fox. He began to draw random lines in the dirt with one footpaw. "There are things in his abode he will not tolerate. These are things that you embody."

Bain didn't turn to look at Deacon, but instead cast his gaze out across the lake. "But he's your father..."

"Did... does your father know about you?" Deacon had to correct himself as he finally turned his head to bring Bain just barely into view.

The otter's hesitation was enough answer, but Bain shook his head regardless. "Of course not," he said. "And I'm glad that you and Master Oswell haven't told him, or the imperial guards. I don't wanna be dragged away and killed just for being who I am." The otter paused for a moment as he settled his paws in his lap. "Are you afraid that you'll be dra-"

"I'm not like you," Deacon growled. His ears twitched and flattened back down as he glanced away again. Even to him, the interruption didn't sound as convincing as it could have been. He took a slow breath. "I don't know what's wrong. I don't know why I'm... thinking these things right now. I came here to figure it out."

When he felt Bain's paw on his shoulder, Deacon jumped away as if he'd been shocked by a bolt of magical energy from his father. The touch startled him so much that firelight burst to life around them, lit from Deacon's raised left paw. In the sudden light, he could clearly see Bain's concern as he lowered that webbed paw again. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

It took a moment for Deacon to take enough control of himself again to snuff the flames. Bain's face was once more lost to the dark of the night as he settled back down, a few more inches away from the otter. It was almost the same reaction as he'd suffered with his father's summons in the middle of the night. Fear-triggered magical response, Oswell had once told him it was. It was the sort of thing that happened when he felt threatened.

Whether or not Bain knew that or not, Deacon heard the otter slide a little ways away from him. "I'm sorry," he repeated in that same abashed, concerned voice. "I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't mean to do this to you. I just wanted to come out and help you."

Deacon remained silent. "You said you were here to figure it out," Bain continued, as another flicker of lightning shot through the heavens. The roll of the thunder came faster than it had before. "I mean... I've gone through this stuff. Everything you're thinking... I thought it too. Maybe if you talk to me, I can help you figure it out. Maybe we can both figure it out."

The fox took a few more moments to figure out that the dull thudding he heard was in fact his own heartbeat, pounding in his chest. He'd been more shaken by the otter's touch than he'd first thought. The possibility that he was going insane passed through his mind and was disregarded with a hesitant flicker of thought. "I don't know why I'm... thinking like this," he finally replied. "It's never happened before."

"Have you ever had any thoughts about anyone before?" Bain asked.

With a shake of his head, the fox let his head hang low. Maybe talking it through would help. He'd never had that luxury before. "I've never really known anyone before," he admitted. "People who come here only come for father's work and experience. I wasn't meant to be a part of his work until he said I was old enough to focus on the work and nothing else."

Another flash of distant lightning illuminated the sky, close enough that it briefly lit up Bain's shocked face. "You've never had _any_friends?" he asked, disbelieving.

Deacon shrugged again. "I've never left my father's grounds," he replied through a frown. "How do you think I've come to have such a great knowledge of arcane forces at my age? I only learn what I do because my father teaches me. He's all I've ever had."

With the exception to the lingering roll of the thunder, the pair sat in silence for a few moments. When Bain finally broke it, it was with a heavy sigh. "I'd go mad. Gods, I nearly went mad at home anyway. If it wasn't for my friends, I think I might've done."

"Could that be it?" Deacon asked, as he glanced up at the shadow of the otter. "Am I having these thoughts just because you're here, now? Because you're just the first person I've ever seen for more than a few minutes who's not my father?"

Bain remained silent for another few moments before he answered. "I guess it could be," he admitted. The words emerged slowly, as if he had to force them. "You've... you never got to be a kid. You've always just been working at your dad's projects. You've always been learning magic. You never had friends, or seen other people, so... maybe." He sighed. "I'm sorry," he said again.

The word cocked Deacon's head and gave the slightest perk to an ear. "For what?" he asked.

"I mean... you know what I am," drawled the otter. Through the darkness, Deacon's dark-adjusted eyes could make out Bain's head shift to look out over the lake. "I can't think of I time I wasn't. I remember everyone telling me I was meant to like females, that it was the law that I had to like females, and that the gods insisted that I only liked females... but I didn't." He heaved another, tired sigh. "I grew up with another otter; a friend. Devlin.

"He was like me. We both knew we liked males, not females. We both knew we weren't meant to. I kept it a secret, but... well, Devlin didn't like secrets. He didn't think he had to keep it secret." Bain paused, and there was a shuffling as he hugged himself tight. "He tried to be himself in the open, and his family summoned the guards to take him away. They tried to turn him 'right' again, but they couldn't. When he was old enough to be considered of age, I was told that he was executed for his perversion."

Even though Bain couldn't see it, Deacon turned his head away to hide his wince. "I'm... sorry," he forced himself to say. "That just... it seems... ah..."

There was a snort from Bain, but the smile on his face came through with his voice. "You've been trained to know it's wrong. So was I, but I had a friend who understood that it wasn't wrong. I had someone there to tell me I wasn't bad, or unholy, or wrong for being who I was. Devlin wanted to be strong, but he paid for it. I wanted to be quiet... and no one else knew until you, and your father."

"And now you're exposed... vulnerable." Deacon sighed. "I wish you'd never come here, Bain. I wish you'd never stepped into his home and into our lives."

"I'm not sorry about that," protested Bain as he slid closer to Deacon again. He was still a bit beyond arm's reach, but it was still closer. The fox didn't jump or try to flee. "Do you remember the day you came into our village?"

Deacon nodded slowly as he watched the lightning arc in the distance. "The bandits had a few of your elders in the town center at sword point," he said, as he cast his mind back to that day. "Your father was with them, wasn't he?"

It was Bain's turn to nod, as the otter's smile grew. "And you saved him. Your father focused on negotiating with the other elders, but when the bandits tried to slit his throat, you saved his life. I was so scared of you that day... the way you burned that wolf to the ground so easily. Mum was so glad you saved dad, and dad respected you so much for what you did for us."

Deacon was thankful for the way the darkness hid the shiver that rocked him. For all Bain was saying, his father had still cut him with a dagger while threatening his life. What could have possibly turned his opinion of he and his father so quickly. "And then we met in your feast hall after we drove the other bandits away, negotiated with your elders properly, and set out to destroy the bandit camp and their leadership," Deacon finished with a shrug. "I still wish we had chosen someone else. Not you. Not your family."

"It didn't matter that you scared me," Bain continued, as if Deacon hadn't spoken a word. "You were... you were new. Different. I'd never met a fox before. I didn't know what you were like. I heard stories, but never saw. Heh, I wondered what you had on underneath those silly magi robes."

Deacon smirked in spite of himself. "More robes," he answered.

Bain's chuckle only helped to turn the smirk into a little smile. "I guess. I wondered, though. You were... well, you were cute. You were cute, and you saved us, and I hoped your father would pick me. I wanted him to take me away. I didn't want to get away from my home, or my family. I..." He sighed, and the otter must have finally realized what he was saying because a new, hesitant, shy note slipped into his voice. "I wanted to see more of you. I hoped, but I didn't let myself think you'd really be interested in me. Or males at all." His shadowed body shrugged in the night. "So it's okay if you're not. It's okay if it's just because I'm here and you've never had anyone here to be a friend."

Deacon nodded slowly as he looked up into the sky. Small droplets of rain were starting to fall, sporadically enough that he could still only barely notice them. The storm wasn't far off. "And what if that's not what it is?" he asked as he drew his coat tighter around his middle.

"Then you get to deal with what I do every single day," Bain replied. "It's not easy and it's not fun. I don't know how I can help you prove you're not like me. If there were some cute fox girls around, maybe that'd do it. Does your dad keep any just lying around?"

Again, Deacon found his muzzle curled into a smile in spite of himself. "No, if he did I'm sure they'd be for his own personal enjoyment." Bain's quiet laugh helped to set him a little more at ease, even as he hugged himself tighter still. "So... there it is. That's my problem. I can't figure it out without a female around to tempt me the way you do, and I don't think my father intends to bring any around to court me." The suddenness of Bain's new outburst of laughter caught Deacon entirely off-guard. "What? What's so funny?"

"You," replied the otter once he'd caught his breath. "Oh, gods... it's not funny, really. It's...weird. Weird and a little funny, I guess." He giggled again as he shook his head. "You've been so cooped up in your house for so long that you've never even seen proper courting. If you were waiting for some female to come to call, you'd be waiting a long_time. Outside in the rest of the world, they wait for _males to come to them."

As Bain began to laugh again, Deacon just shook his head. The smile on his face wasn't entirely a mask as he began to relax back slightly again. "Well, I don't know," he muttered with mock irritation as Bain continued to laugh. "All I know of courting is what my father has taught me, and most of that is that it's a waste of time and a distraction from my work. I don't even really know how to court a female!" He frowned slightly as he tipped his muzzle skyward. "Is it different for you?"

Bain just chuckled again. "Oh, it's real different," he replied. "I know exactly how to court a female."

The roll of Deacon's eyes went unnoticed, but the shove from his paw only elicited a louder laugh from the otter. "You know what I meant," he grumbled.

"I know, I know." The otter fell silent a moment before he chuckled again. "It's... I dunno. It's different, yeah. It's different because you don't know if the person you're courting is gonna be okay with it, or if they're gonna turn you in to the guards for it. Devin always told me about an older male he'd approached, but... well, it didn't sound like there was all that much courting."

Deacon blinked in confusion. No courting? "Is there something about being... well, like you... that makes the whole process of finding a mate easier?" he asked.

The quiet cough from the otter did little more than cock Deacon's head to the side. "Uh, I don't think so," he said through a smile. "I don't think they were looking to be mated. Well... not for the rest of their lives. They were probably more into the mating than being mated."

With a sigh, Deacon rubbed over his face. "And there's that, too!" he said as he let himself fall back. He lay down on the grass and simply allowed his whole body to grow limp. "Females can... I mean, they have something there for mating! Males too, but... how? How in the world could two males mate? I cannot envision how they would work together!"

"Well, they don't make children, but there's ways," Bain answered. "I don't know if I should really tell you, though. The way you are now's already pretty confused. I don't wanna get into it and convince you to try something you don't really want to do." He chuckled quietly. "And if you did get into it, I don't think you'd wanna stop."

A new knot formed in the pit of Deacon's stomach as he rolled his head to the side. He regarded the otter's shadowy form as he folded his arms over his chest. On the one side, Bain had a very good point. On the other though, Deacon felt a sliver of curiosity run through him. It raised a whole new question. "Is it... wrong that I find myself wondering?" he asked.

Bain snorted once. "If you're asking me? Nope. If you asked your father? Probably. If you asked the guards, they'd drag you away for even thinking about it." There was another shuffle in the dark as Bain slid closer to Deacon again, though he remained silent for a few more moments before he continued. "I had to wonder a whole lot before I met Devlin. He explained lots of things to me, but he was always more about getting his paws dirty and showing me directly."

The fox frowned as he leaned his head back against the cool grass again. "So, did you and Devlin... ah, you know...?"

"No, no. No, we never did anything. He was always trying to get me to, but I was always worried about getting caught." The otter laughed again. "But you came out here to get away from your father, and he's the only real law around here. If we were gonna get caught, you wouldn't have come out here in the first place. Right?"

That little sliver of curiosity gained strength, and it felt to Deacon as though it curled around his malehood and gave it a gentle squeeze. It wasn't until a few moments later that he realized that the sensation had been real, and it had come from his own paw. He hastily slid it back up to his chest as he forced himself to try and focus through the night on the clouds above. "Yes. I suppose that's true. I'm just not certain I really want to know."

Bain snorted again, but the smile in his voice was plain. "You really do," he insisted as he lay down near to Deacon. "I can tell. But I'm not gonna say or do anything unless you tell me you do think you really want to know. You're still afraid."

The frown returned to Deacon's brow as his ears twitched back against the grass. The conversation needed to shift away before he thought about it - and Bain - too much. "Of my father?" Deacon rolled his head side to side in a slow, somewhat awkward shake. "No. You were right; I come here to get away from him for a while. This is my quiet spot."

"Not your dad," Bain explained after a moment. "You're not afraid of him catching you thinking about it. If you were, you wouldn't be letting yourself think about it. Nope. You're afraid that you might like it. You don't want to like it." He sighed quietly. "You're afraid you might be like me, and you don't wanna be. And that's fine. I don't wanna be like this either."

Deacon let his head roll slowly to the side again. So much for evading the issue and shifting the conversation. "Have you tried not being like that?" he asked.

Through the dark he caught the otter's nod. There was a flicker of shadow as Bain curled in against himself. "I tried to court a female once," he said. "It didn't go well. I can't help it. I just am who I am." There was another quiet chuckle. "She thought I was too strange for her anyway."

"I don't think you're strange," Deacon reassured him as he folded his arms more firmly across his chest. Even if Bain wasn't actively trying to bait the fox's curiosity, Deacon couldn't help the tentative thoughts that wormed their way into his awareness. "I think you're nice. I mean, I don't have much experience and contact to compare you to, and there's only really my father, and he measures worth entirely through-"

"I know what you're getting at" interrupted the otter, as one webbed paw drifted over to pat gently at Deacon's arm. Those fingers squeezes gently at the fox's sleeve before they slipped away again. "And for what a stupid peasant's feelings might be worth to a magi, I meant what I said before. You're why this whole experiment thing's been something I can do, not your dad. Well... you and your magic, heh heh..."

With a chuckle, Deacon reached over to give Bain's side a gentle shove. "You're just happy because you want me to keep draining you dry."

"Mmm." There was another shuffle as Bain rolled himself in closer to Deacon again. "But if you were like me, you wouldn't need to use your magic to do your extractions. There'd be much better ways to drain me!"

One of Deacon's eyebrows lifted as he flattened the ear closest to Bain. This was moving to dangerous territory again. "I thought you didn't want to tell me about all of that."

There was another shuffle, and then Deacon could make out the otter's features more clearly in the dark. He was close enough to easily touch, and his eyes shone in another distant flash of lightning. "No, I said you didn't want me to tell you about that," he corrected the fox. "I'd be happy to. I don't wanna make you do something you don't want to, is all."

With how close they were, there was no doubt in Deacon's mind that Bain could finally see the struggle written in his creased brow. "How would telling me how you... well, mate... make me do it?" he asked.

"Curiosity," was the simple answer from Bain's smiling muzzle. "Devlin told me about it. The less sure the male, he would say, the more likely they might be willing to... well, experiment." His chuckle was almost lost to another crack of thunder as the skies began to open. "And now you're forced to choose. We should go back to your dad's manor and stay dry, but you don't know if you want to leave yet."

When Deacon remained silent, Bain took a slow breath and held it for a few seconds. In those seconds, the only sound around them was the droplets of rain that pattered across the grass. "I guess, if you want to be sure that you're not like me you'd have to try something," he finally said. "Not much. Not really. I tried with that female, and I couldn't. I knew right away I couldn't."

The possibilities swirled through Deacon's mind even as the rain began to fall more heavily. The gap between lightning and thunder closed as electricity arced through the clouds. His eyes turned skyward. While the fox wasn't a gods-fearing mortal, he knew that they frowned on what Bain was suggesting. "Do you think they're watching?" he asked. The vulpine couldn't even bring his voice above a whisper. His malehood shamelessly pulsed in time with his fear.

"If they are and they don't want us to do anything, they'll stop us," Bain replied. He wriggled in closer as he rolled onto his side. Deacon twitched, but the fox didn't pull away. "Diviners would say that the rain is trying to drive us away now... or that the storm's a sign that they're angry with us." He smiled as his head tilted down. "My mum would tell me that the Diviners were just mortals, and the gods themselves should tell us what's right and wrong. She'd say signs are good and all, but not everyone can read them." When he looked up again, Deacon was nodding. "So..."

Deacon rolled his head to the side to take in Bain again. The otter looked at him more earnestly than he could remember seeing him. There was no tease or enticement there. Bain wasn't playing with him as far as he could tell. He wasn't flirting. He was trying to help, even if the process would help himself. Deacon knew Bain was interested in him, and that the offer could have just been a way to get some alone time with the fox of his affections.

But at the same time, everything he'd said had made sense. He wouldn't be able to answer the question of where his problem was coming from until he knew what the problem was. If his body resisted Bain's efforts, he could rest easy. If it didn't... well, then at least he'd locked the problem down. He was already soaked anyway; there was no more staying dry. "I... guess," he replied. It took more effort than he'd thought to force the words out. "What do I... you know... do?"

"Well, let's start off with something easy," Bain replied as he sat up. He reached down and gently sought out Deacon's paws, and the otter gave them a warm squeeze as he tugged him up. "But... you're sure about this?" he asked one more time. Better to give Deacon a chance to back out than to back him into a corner.

He didn't need to bother. The otter caught Deacon's nod through the lightning above them. "Alright, then. Can you close your eyes for a second?"

The fox nodded and complied as he took a deep breath. Sudden fear shot through him as he felt Bain's paws squeeze down tighter around his own. What if the otter was his father in disguise? What if it was a trap? What if the gods were watching? What if he was about to be struck down for all of this? His malehood tingled in open rebellion to his every concern. What if he-

Warmth on his muzzle interrupted his thoughts. Contact, gentle and careful and wet and warm sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with fur. It was sustained, the otter's muzzle against his own as one of Bain's paws let go of him. That paw shifted to the fox's cheek and pulled him forward with equal gentleness.

All at once, the kiss drained away all of Deacon's fears. The softness of Bain's touch flooded him and filled him from tip to toe with something else; something new. It contrasted with the cold rain, but somehow that just made the contact seem all the hotter. Deacon melted into Bain for the few seconds he had before the otter drew back again. He parted with one last little lick across the fox's muzzle and a smile on his own. "How was that?"

Deacon murmured something that sounded exactly nothing like words. He cleared his throat as he looked up at Bain's still-close face. Further below, he could feel his shaft straining at his trousers. Even from something as small as that contact, he was more aroused than he could remember himself ever being. After the kiss, it didn't even spark concern. "That was... nice. Really, really nice."

"Then you're probably gonna like what comes next," the otter said. He smiled as he leaned back in and pressed into another soft kiss. One paw slipped into the fox's coat and wrapped around his middle as Bain eased himself forward, and he slipped one leg over Deacon's lap and moved to straddle the magi as he leaned deeper into the kiss.

While the majority of Bain's motions went unnoticed by Deacon, the fox was acutely aware of the way the otter's tongue slipped into his muzzle. A moment's confused recoil was stymied when he felt more than heard Bain's sigh. The confusion vanished when his muzzle tilted, and Deacon's whole body relaxed soon after. His tongue mingled with the otter's with what seemed like instinct. It felt, for lack of a better word, natural.

The stroke of Bain's webbed paws through the fur of his back helped to pull Deacon up against the otter. Of their own accord, his arms slid up to squeeze at Bain's sides, and he pulled back quickly with a quiet giggle as Deacon gave him a squeeze. "You really like that, don't you?" he asked as he leaned in again.

"It's nice," Deacon replied again as he moved forward to try and meet the otter half-way. He missed when Bain's head dipped down before their muzzles could meet again, but his paws squeezed tight at the otter's middle when he felt Bain's lips start to work at his neck. He groaned and tilted his head back as his tail began to twitch and thump against the wet grass. Each little kiss sent a shudder through him that had his malehood straining to break through his trousers.

When they did, it came as an immense surprise to the fox. He glanced down along his body in an attempt to see what had happened. The darkness was deep enough to hide what had happened until he felt Bain's paw ease down past the offending trousers and dip inside. By the time he realized what had happened, Bain had already begun to slide down along the vulpine's body. "Ah... what are you-"

"I told you you'd like what comes next," Bain reminded him with a giggle. The otter's paw slid down through the fox's fur to squeeze at his sheath as he nuzzled into Deacon's neck. "You trust me, right?"

The obvious answer was yes, but it was only the rising tide of lust that kept Deacon's confusion and lack of knowledge from stopping the otter. "Yes, I suppose," he forced out as he stroked over Bain's shoulder. "Why? What's going to come n-nnngh..."

Words failed when Bain smoothly dipped down to drag his tongue across Deacon's tip. Fished out by that questing paw, the fox's shaft spent only a moment exposed to the air before Bain squeezed it tight. Not even a single raindrop touched that length of heated flesh; it pattered instead atop the back of Bain's head as he kissed the head of the fox's malehood.

When the otter's lips parted and he started to sink in past them, anything that Deacon could have or would have said was lost to the night. Wordless groans poured from him as he felt heat envelop his shaft. His body froze, unfamiliar with the sensations that tickled down his length by the inch. It wasn't until half of his malehood was wrapped up in Bain's mouth that the fox grunted and pumped his hips up slightly.

Bain moved with the motion, and a whimper slipped out of Deacon in lustful frustrations. Questions of sexuality and right and wrong were gone from his mind, abolished in a single, delicious touch. There was no more concern or worry. There was no fear or confusion. If his mind had been capable of multitasking through the sensations that Bain had already teased out of his length, Deacon might have been able to acknowledge the overwhelming evidence his body was providing him.

As Deacon's hips fell back, so too did Bain push forward again. The otter's muzzle hungrily ran down the fox's malehood as the rain grew thicker. Lightning and thunder rolled by simultaneously overhead as Deacon's paws shifted to ride the top of the otter's head. Those twitching little ears were squeezed gently as his body tried to follow long-suppressed instinct, but Bain kept him in check. The otter dictated the pace; Deacon had a hold on him, but Bain was the one in full control of the situation.

The tease was tantalizing, as the otter drew his lips back and eased himself up. Only the fox's tip was left inside that warmth, and Deacon shivered as rain ran through the fur of Bain's face and down over his exposed malehood. One webbed paw pressed down against the fox's stomach to hold back the thrusts he obviously knew would come. His tongue curled around the pointed head of that canine shaft as he smiled.

A thousand questions of 'why' and 'how' and 'what' waved at Deacon from the corner of his awareness, but the particulars of Bain's actions didn't matter so much to the fox as long as they continued. His legs spread out wider as he strained against that restraining paw of Bain's. He felt his length twitch with a surge of pleasure, and the sound of Bain's appreciative moan below only added to the sensation. That moan pierced his mind and drew back some of the tension that still bound his muscles. Whatever Bain was doing, he was enjoying it too.

He. The realization shot Deacon's eyes open with a horrible moment of self-awareness. Suddenly, the questions that were beating on the darkest corners of his mind were able to find purchase. The thrill of the act itself became drowned out by the tingle of taboo and disgust and fear that mingled in his heart. He squeezed at fistfuls of the ground as he pulled his hips back.

Maybe if Bain hadn't pushed down the moment the fox retreated from his muzzle he even would have gotten away from it. As it was, that warm, wet feeling that swallowed the full length of Deacon's malehood was enough to put a brief pause on his concern for his situation. Sensation wound through him and exploded in his mind, his protests converted instantly to overwhelmed whimpers of approval.

War erupted between Deacon's conscious and unconscious mind. His back arched to meet the twisting, bobbing motions of Bain's head, even as he fought to find the control necessary to push the otter away. The sensations boiling out of his loins were almost overpowering, and they were still building. Every lick, every slurp, and every purse of the otter's lips sent new trembles through Deacon's body. They set his legs quaking and his tail shaking. Another surge of pleasure through his length drew another hungry moan from Bain. The otter's muzzle grew wetter.

One of Bain's arms slid around Deacon's waist to help keep him in place. Even with the confusion and concern in the vulpine's head trying to fight off the heated pleasure of the moment, his body was all too happy with what was going on. Hips twitched as his shaft throbbed. His heart thudded against his chest with enough force to make Deacon think it was ready to burst free. It felt like the rain should have been steaming off his body, what with the heat that surged though his veins.

The concerns and the fears began to lose traction as the pleasure continued to build. There was no way to fight what was happening to him, and every second that passed only convinced the fox that he didn't want to. All the disgust in the world couldn't stop what was happening. Bain wasn't forcing anything. The otter's muzzle, as gladly as it worked along that hard length of vulpine flesh, wasn't the whole picture. That it was Bain there was a piece of the puzzle. That it was a male pleasuring him was another piece.

The fact that it was incontrovertible proof didn't matter. The facts of what it meant for him didn't matter. What mattered was the otter between his legs. What mattered was every twist of his muzzle and every lap of his tongue. What mattered was the up and down motion that dragged Bain's lips along his shaft. What mattered was that his friend was there, demanding the fox silently and physically to spill himself.

And no matter what Deacon thought he knew or thought he wanted, it was a demand he couldn't fight. He panted and whined up into the lightning-lit sky. Thunder drowned out a guttural moan as he felt his whole body start to tingle, radiating outward from his balls. Muscles twitched and spasmed as the building pleasure became a pressure begging release. "B-Bain," he managed to stammer out through clenched teeth as the conscious mind fought off his climax for a scant couple more seconds.

If the otter heard him, it was mere encouragement. Webbed paws squeezed tighter at Deacon, one at the base of the fox's shaft and the other around at his back. He massaged the root of that canine shaft as his lips bumped again and again at the top of Deacon's knot. The swollen base didn't push up into the otter's muzzle, but the fingertips that wrapped around the underside and tugged it up against Bain's muzzle did more than either male had expected.

Overwhelming pleasure washed out the rain, the thunder and the lightning, the night and the lake. It obliterated Deacon's awareness of anything other than Bain, and the fox saw stars as he cried out in pleasure. Thick spurts of his seed splattered the roof of the otter's mouth, enough to cause Bain's eyes to bug out as he pulled quickly off. Both paws wrapped around that pulsating shaft, squeezing and milking at it Deacon panted heavily for breath. The fox was lost in the flood of pleasure that wracked his body.

Deacon couldn't open his eyes until he was spent. When the quakes of his pleasure faded to mere tremors, it took more effort than he thought possible to remain sitting up. He ran one soaking wet paw up through his headfur as he continued to pant, and his tongue lolled out of his muzzle as he forced his eyes open. "Gods... Bain, that..."

"You taste good," was the otter's take on what had happened. He stated it simply as he sat up and licked across his muzzle, and his smile glinted in the firelight as Deacon summoned a flicker of flame to his free paw. "How do I look?"

The long streaks of white that colored the brown fur of Bain's face made Deacon chuckle for a moment, before reality crashed through the afterglow of his climax and brought his mind to heel. "You're... oh, gods... what did we do? What did I... oh, no... no!"

With widened eyes, Bain reached out to quickly and gently take a hold of the vulpine paw not set alight. "Calm down, Deacon," he said as his voice became more firm. "Breathe. Okay? Breathe. You need to breathe."

Even as he yanked his paw free again, Deacon understood the benefit of Bain's advice. His panting, frozen by the knowledge of what he had just done, resumed at a faster rate as his heart pounded at his chest. His own eyes were wide with fear, and they looked anywhere but at Bain's seed-streaked face.

Bain gave Deacon's paw a slight squeeze, and that was enough to bring the fox's attention back to him. "You're okay," he told Deacon, his voice still as firm as he could muster and loud enough to be heard over the thunder. "You're okay, alright? You're fine. You're good. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Everything I just did was wrong," Deacon forced out in between panted breaths. He took a deep one and held it for a moment as he looked up into the sky. "Oh gods, what have I done? What am I?"

Pain lanced through his groin as his sensitive shaft became trapped under Bain's weight. The otter swung back up into Deacon's sticky lap and gripped tightly at the fox's shoulders. "You are _not_wrong," Bain insisted. He reached up with one paw to grab Deacon gently by the chin. It took a firm grip to drag Deacon's eyes back down to face his. "You're not."

Deacon's eyes were still wild when they met Bain's. "But what you said... you couldn't mate a female. You just couldn't, because you... oh gods, I am just like you..."

The otter's eyebrows raised as a note of anger slipped into his tone. "And what am I?" he demanded as Deacon ashamedly averted his eyes again. "Huh? No, you look at me," he added as he pulled Deacon's head back into place again. "What am I to you? Am I wrong? Am I bad? Am I a bad person?"

"No," Deacon admitted a moment later, though he still couldn't meet Bain's eyes.

"Should I be punished for this?" the otter asked as his fingers tightened their grip.

"No," repeated Deacon as he started to look up again.

When their eyes met again, it was only for a second before Bain's muzzle pushed forward again. There was the same warmth there when their lips met, but there was a new flavor there - bitter, salty - that Deacon hadn't ever encountered. The knowledge of what it had to be was there, but the fox was simply frozen by the gesture. He didn't even think to push Bain away. On some level, the kiss was a pleasant enough sensation that he didn't really want to.

When Bain broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to Deacon's. "You're not bad," he said, only barely loud enough to hear. "You're not wrong. Alright? You're not. You're not." His arms slid around Deacon's middle, and he sighed as the fox's trembling arms wrapped about the otter's middle. "You're not," he said again.

The squeeze of Bain's arms around Deacon was enough to bring tears to the fox's eyes. They were washed away again as he tilted his head up into the rain, and he shook his head as best he could as he began to whimper. "Then what am I?" he asked.

"You're what you've always been," Bain said. His voice was somewhat muffled by the vulpine's shoulder as he nuzzled in. "You're not different now, Deacon. You're still you. This was always you. Tonight, tomorrow, a hundred years from now... you'd figure it out. And you're not wrong for being like me."

Deacon shook his head again as he clutched more tightly at Bain. Part of him wanted to shove the otter away; that it was Bain's filth and perversion that had corrupted him, just like his father had said. The rest of him couldn't bear to let Bain go for the barest second. Who else would understand? "Why do I _feel_wrong, then?"

Bain shook his head as he rubbed over the fox's back. "Because you've never been told anything else," he answered, and Deacon held him all the tighter. "You've only ever known it's wrong, and now you have to deal with it. You can't change it. I tried. You might try. You're you, Deacon... and it might not mean much to you, but I like you the way you are. I like you as you and I don't want you to try and be different."

"I'm already different," Deacon said as he sniffed back the emotions running rampant through him. Calm. He needed to be calm. If he was too emotional when he returned, then his father would wake up and know something was wrong. Magic was tied to emotions as much as anything else. If Oswell wasn't already aware something was wrong, he would be the moment Deacon entered the manor if he wasn't careful. He needed to be calm, or his father might just kill him outright. "I'm... I'm scared. I don't know what to do."

The otter's head lifted off Deacon's shoulder and nuzzled along the fox's the cheek. "You're going to be you," he replied, and in the firelight Deacon could see a sad little smile on his sticky face. "You're going to be Deacon. Deacon might be brave and shout who he is to the world, or Deacon might be quiet and keep it all to himself. You're gonna do what you have to, now that you know that you're... this. I'm sorry I had to show you it."

Deacon's eyebrows lifted as his ears flattened. "No... no, don't be sorry," he said with a shake of his head. "This isn't your fault. You didn't do this to me. _I_did this to me. If it's anyone's fault, it's mine. I'm..." He gulped and looked to the flame in his paw for a moment before he forced his eyes back to Bain's. "I'm... glad. I'm glad it was you who was here with me. I'm glad you showed me."

Bain's smile grew a little wider, and he nodded as he leaned up to press a gentle kiss to Deacon's forehead. "I'm still sorry it had to be me, but... thanks. It means a lot to hear you say that. And I'm glad I could too, even if I'm sorry... if that makes sense." He reached up with a fingertip to wipe some of the seed from his face. "But, well... you did this to me, so... can we maybe get it clean before we go back to the manor? I don't think your dad will like it."

The sight of Deacon's smile slip away made Bain instantly regret his choice of words. He shook his head and cupped the fox's cheek. "It'll be okay, you know," he said, and Deacon nodded distractedly along with him. "_You'll_be okay. I know you will be. You're the smartest person I've ever met." He shifted his head to put himself into the fox's drifting view. "And unlike you, I've been around a bit."

There was a little snort that might have been a chuckle, and a crease in the vulpine's face that might have been a smile. It was impossible to tell through the rain, but it was at least a start. "Come on," Bain said as he patted Deacon's shoulders gently. "Help me get cleaned up, and then we can go back and get dry. Okay?"

"Yeah... okay," Deacon replied. He helped to ease the otter out of his lap as he willed the flames in his paw to grow brighter for a moment. Deacon hesitated a moment as he looked down at his spent shaft, still hard as a rock. In spite of the nearly-crushing way Bain had sat on it, it hadn't flagged in the slightest. He was still harder than he'd ever been. In fact, the fox almost felt like he could have Bain do again whatever it was he'd been doing before.

He took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. Nothing was going to be the same. Deacon_couldn't be the same. Everything was different, now that Bain had shown him who - or more importantly _what - he really was. He was set apart from everyone.

It wasn't a new concept. He was a magi; a master of the arcane. He was used to being made to look down on others. From the lowliest slave to the heights of the imperial dynasty, he was meant to be above them all. A king could rule the land, but magi could turn that land into anything he willed. He was one of a mere few.

But now he was something else, too. Something feared as well, yes, but reviled. Something horrible. Something to be shut away or cut down. Something abominable. A desecration and a monster. He was all of that, just for being who he was. No amount of rain could wash it away. No lightning strike could burn it away.

Perhaps though, the evidence alone could be washed away. He followed after Bain as the otter headed to the lake's shore. The otter needed to be cleaned up, just like he'd said.

Deacon just wished he could clear away his shame as easily.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Oswell sensed the opening and closing of the front door more than heard it. From his private bedchambers and through the enchantments he'd painstakingly laid down over the decades, mundane senses were insufficient to detect the outside world. His mind though was carefully attuned to the thrum of the house, and the walls drew their awareness down through themselves and into him. It was too much to be aware of constantly, but it was a fine way to ensure that Deacon was behaving himself. The boy's mind was empty; there was nothing to detect there.

It wasn't until he sensed Bain's presence alongside Deacon's that the elder magi's brow began to furrow. One ear twitched as he stretched out as gently as he could to wriggle into Bain's thoughts. There was a joy there, muted almost to silence through studious intent but detectable nonetheless. Satisfaction suffused him. Contentment. Affection.

The other ear perked up with the first. Interest had changed. Bain's interest in Deacon had been a constant in every little probe into the otter's mind. It was there, but the affection was different. The otter was painted in different colors. His heart beat with enthusiasm; a thrilled cadence that betrayed him. It beat and beat and beat and betrayed them both.

That would not do. That would not do at all.

As he sat up from his bed, Oswell turned and grasped at a simple robe. He tugged it over his shoulders and tucked his tail into a little slit as he moved over to a wardrobe as tall as the ceiling and twice as wide as his bed. He pulled the doors open with both paws and brushed aside the hung clothing there to reveal a person-sized mirror. The silvery frame was engraved with hundreds of miniscule runes that lit up with soft green light as he ran his fingertips over them.

The mirror's reflected image shimmered away to a smoky black void as Oswell folded his arms into the sleeves of his robe. It was late, certainly, but certain things required immediate action. It was clear that threats and warnings were no longer sufficient to keep Deacon in line. If he was going to insist on thinking that he could determine his fate... well, something would have to be done.

It was not as though he hadn't tried. Numerous failed experiments had only convinced Oswell that Bain's presence would have to be a more permanent matter for the immediate future. He had hoped that the otter would be a non-issue within a couple of extractions, and that his fervent training in Deacon would result in a son who would conduct himself in his work with practiced detachment. Instead, it seemed as though Deacon had succumbed to Bain's advances. The momentary surge of disgust was difficult to quash, and impossible to keep from returning.

But there were plans. Contingencies. He had options he was loathe to call on, but they had become necessary. He could not isolate Deacon from Bain without jeopardizing his experiments, and his work required his focus too much at the moment to keep a watchful eye on his son every minute of every day. Bain needed to be kept, yes, but Deacon needed something else to focus on. He needed something else to distract him from what Bain was trying to do. Some things he could do. Other things... well, those would require external help.

The misty view of the darkness through the mirror gave way slowly to a pair of glowing blue eyes. They sharpened and focused on the fox even while their owner remained shrouded in darkness. "Oswell," came a soft female voice. "So good to see you, even so late as it is."

"Margot. The pleasure is mine," he replied as he bowed his head slowly. "I do apologize for the lateness of my summons, but some matters cannot wait for dawn."

A quiet, lilting laugh rolled out of the mirror. "Please. If you could construct a suitable distraction from my frustratingly imminent and busy morning, I would be so much further in your debt. To what do I owe the honor, master magi?"

Oswell drew himself up tall as he hissed out his breath between his teeth. "I seem to recall a rather considerable favor that you owe me," he said after a moment. Deacon would not like what he had in mind, but that was fine. Deacon didn't have to like it. Deacon just had to obey. "My son is giving me no end of trouble at the moment. He needs a distraction, and I believe you, my lady, are more than capable of providing it."

The blue eyes narrowed as they regarded Oswell's features. "You know what you are asking of me, Oswell," replied Margot. A new, threatening note slipped into her tone.

But that, too, was fine. Margot owed him a debt, and Oswell just smiled to himself as he squeezed at his forearms. Like Deacon, she had no choice in the matter. "I know what I am asking of you," he said. "And you know how much more I could ask to pay your debt to me. Can you help, or can you not?"

Margot's eyes closed, and for a moment it looked as though the darkness had swallowed up the mirror's projection. Oswell just waited patiently. He knew she was there. He knew she wouldn't fight him. She knew what an opportunity this was, and she knew what it would mean for her. One did not allow one's self to accrue a debt to magi if one could help it, and she was a smart female. It was hardly the worst bargain he could insist upon.

When the eyes opened again, they gave away Margot's smile. "I believe I can help you," she said at last. "I must understand this before we agree, however. Safety is guaranteed?"

"I guarantee it personally, of course" Oswell replied with a nod.

"And your son?" He thought he caught the perk of an eyebrow as Margot stared at him. "What of him?"

Oswell just huffed quietly to himself and shook his head. Exactly the issue he needed to attend to. "If he fails to see this opportunity for what it is?" he replied. "Well... I cannot be held accountable for his own stupidity. I guarantee you personally what safety I can. I cannot, however, guarantee Deacon's safety. Is this a problem for you?"

Margot's eyes sharpened and Oswell could see her smile widen through the shadows. "Not at all, my dear," she replied as her darkened image began to shimmer away. "I accept your most generous offer.

"We will begin preparations immediately."