FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Shattered by Desire

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

12th March 2025

All Rights Reserved.

A fellow Cervid inspired this tale. You know who you are, my friend. Without your idea, it would never have happened. I hope you enjoy it...

Cederwyn © me.

Joss and Wilbur © their creator.

Joss sprawled across the floor, his legs languidly draped over the sofa cushions, flipping through a magazine with feigned indifference. The sharp sound of hooves striking the floor was followed by a cushion flying through the air, slapping him squarely across the back.

“Your mother a feral cow?” Wilbur’s voice rumbled from the doorway, thick with irritation. “Hooves off the couch.”

Joss let out a dramatic bleat, rolling over with exaggerated movements as he pushed himself to his feet. He gave Wilbur a mischievous smirk, stretching with languid grace. His tank top clung to his form, while the absurdly short, garish shorts he wore were an affront to all sense of style.

“Are we in a mood today, big brother?” Joss teased, his voice smooth but with an edge, something darker flickering behind his eyes.

Wilbur’s nostrils flared, his gaze sharpening as he crossed the room, his presence filling the space with a heavy, almost oppressive charge. He closed the distance between them in a few purposeful strides, his massive frame casting a shadow over Joss.

"Don’t make me say it again, Joss," Wilbur growled, his voice low, rough, and dripping with warning. The primal undercurrent of the rut hung between them, thick and undeniable.

Undeterred, Joss stuck his tongue out cheekily.

“Comfortable is fine, but that?” He gestured to Joss’s outfit, his voice edged with playful mockery. “You’re lucky you’re my brother.”

The tension in the room crackled, thick with the unspoken challenge. Joss’s grin softened into something more calculating, his eyes glinting with a teasing glimmer. But there was something more dangerous there now—something Wilbur couldn’t ignore.

“Well, you’re not angry, are you?” Joss’s voice dropped, a thread of challenge woven into it as he shifted, movements slow and deliberate. He arched his back, stretching in a way that only heightened the tension in the room. The playful tone belied the darker edge of the rut pulling at their instincts.

Wilbur’s stance grew even more rigid, muscles tensing as he stepped closer, his chest practically pressing into Joss’s. The air between them felt thick with something primal. “I don’t play games, Joss.”

Joss’s smile lingered, a little more wicked now. “Then I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

His hooflets trailed teasingly over Wilbur’s muscular chest, the touch light, deliberate—taunting. Wilbur’s restraint was slipping, his desire barely contained, the air thick with lust.

"You're tap-dancing on eggshells, Joss..." Wilbur growled, trying to suppress the raw, animal-like urge simmering beneath the surface.

"Am I?" Joss teased, offering a glance full of bedroom eyes, his tail flicking playfully. "So, I’ve been thinking..."

Without warning, Wilbur closed the distance, one large hand gripping the back of Joss’s neck, pressing him against the wall.

"Eek!" Joss squeaked, twisting his head with mischievous eyes, his tail flagging faster. "You brute, you monster..."

"Tempt me not, hussy..." Wilbur breathed, his voice warm and rough against Joss’s left ear. “So, you’ve been thinking... A dangerous pastime for you...”

Joss’s grin widened, eyes narrowing as he poked his tongue out, deliberately pushing his hips back in a slow, deliberate motion. “So, I’ve been thinking... How about we invite Richard? A few drinks, a nice, relaxed night...”

Wilbur snorted, impatience colouring his voice. In a flash, he spun Joss around, slamming him back against the wall. Both large hands planted on either side of Joss’s head, Wilbur leaned in close, their noses nearly brushing. “I don’t like where you’re leading me...”

Joss giggled playfully, then leaned forward, licking Wilbur’s nose. “You wound me, good sir, with these slanderous accusations! You besmirch my good name!”

A low growl rumbled deep in Wilbur’s chest, and before Joss could say another word, Wilbur pressed his lips hard against Joss’s, silencing him with a kiss that spoke volumes more than words could ever express.

When they finally pulled apart, after what felt like an eternity, Joss’s eyes were wide, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling with aftershocks.

“Got it out of your system?” Wilbur murmured, his voice cool and composed as he took a seat on the back of the couch, crossing his muscular arms. His gaze was steady, fixed on Joss.

“Uh…” Joss gasped, smiling nervously as he found his bearings again. “Woo... okay, so I was…”

Wilbur’s ear flicked in amusement, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Breathe, brother…”

“So, I was saying!” Joss stammered, scratching the back of his head, now scrambling for his words. “Look, we both know our urges are... something else during this time. Besides, Richard... well, he’s human, after all... As nice as it’d be…”

Wilbur’s brow arched, a low grunt escaping him. “Really?”

Joss nervously scuffed a cloven hoof on the carpet, casting a sheepish glance at his brother. His neck flushed with embarrassment, but his resolve remained.

“Invite Richard and that mule deer partner of his?” Wilbur tapped his chin thoughtfully, considering the idea. “I can see that. But this stays between us—that poor deer…”

Wilbur’s voice dropped, his anger simmering beneath the surface. His muscles tensed, and the couch creaked as he flexed. His fingers curled into fists, the sheer restraint palpable.

“So, yes,” Wilbur continued, tone softening slightly, “I think it’d do him good. Get him out, get him here, among fellow herbivores, so he can just relax. Snacks, drinks—just... help him unwind.” He gave Joss a pointed look. “But I’m serious, Joss. You promised me you wouldn’t be yourself. We don’t want to scare him off. He’s already tense enough as it is. So go easy on him, alright?”

Joss poked his tongue out playfully, eyes crinkling as he flashed a grin that was just a little too mischievous. “I promise to be on my best behaviour!”

Wilbur shook his head and chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that reverberated through his chest. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of…”

Joss playfully blew a raspberry at his brother, then flounced off, his effeminate hips swaying as he went to get his cellular phone. Wilbur watched, the urge within him to take this young buck, to bend him over the couch and teach him why it wasn't wise to rile a dominant bull...*

*

Ceder curled up on the couch, the hum of the television doing little to fill the space around him. His eyes flicked over the screen, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Richard. He missed him—missed him physically, emotionally, spiritually. Richard had been called away for work, leaving Ceder alone in their shared home, with only the silence to keep him company.

His plush elk toy, the one Richard had given him, was clutched tightly to his chest. It was soft and comforting, a small piece of reassurance. It smelled faintly of Richard’s cologne—subtle, but familiar. Still, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t Richard.

Ceder curled tighter into himself, the loneliness gnawing at him. The silence pressed in from all sides, and a quiet wave of discomfort washed over him. He tried to push it away, focusing on the low buzz of the TV, but it didn’t help.

Not your master. You don’t have a master anymore. He is your mate. Your lover...

The voice in his head was sharp and unexpected, cutting through his spiralling thoughts. He flinched, his shoulders tensing. It wasn’t his voice. It wasn’t even a voice he recognised, but it had always been there, like a reminder of the person he used to be—the person he didn’t want to be anymore.

He’s not your master... the voice echoed, softer this time, as if trying to soothe him. He is your mate. And he loves you.

Ceder’s breath hitched as the tension in his chest deepened. His body curled tighter around the plush toy, but his thoughts still scattered.

"A... doebuck..." he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He hated thinking about it—the time when he had been lost, confused, that helpless creature. The time before Richard had saved him.

Your past doesn’t define you, the voice continued, calm but firm. What you’ve become is because of him—because he loves you, cherishes you...

The voice faded, leaving Ceder to breathe in the soft silence. He pulled the plush toy tighter against his chest, closing his eyes for a moment. There, with the weight of the soft fur and the lingering scent of Richard, he could almost feel his mate’s presence, comforting and steady.

He wasn’t alone. Not really. Richard was his. And though the silence seemed loud in its absence, Ceder could find a small peace in the love that was still here—still with him.

The sudden buzz of the phone sliced through the stillness, pulling Ceder from his thoughts. He blinked, uncertain who might be calling. With hesitation, he picked it up, holding it to his ear with a slight tremor in his hand. His breath came in quiet, nervous pants as he waited for the voice on the other end.

“Hello?” His voice was soft, almost unsure, still fighting against the conditioning that clung to him.

An unfamiliar voice broke the silence, warm and inviting:

“Ceder? Hey, hi! It's Joss, you know, Richard's friend? So, we’re having a little get-together tonight—just me, my brother Wilbur, a few drinks, some food. Do you and Richard have any plans? You both should come by! There will be a few laughs, and there's no pressure to stay long if you don’t want to. We’d love to see you there!”

Ceder’s stomach clenched, unease settling over him. Social situations, especially with people he didn’t know well, always left him unsettled. The thought of mingling, even with Joss and the others, stirred a quiet knot of anxiety.

"Uh..." Ceder stammered, overwhelmed. "Mas... I mean, Richard isn’t home. He had to go to an emergency and..."

A pause. Then, Joss’s voice, a soft sigh of frustration, followed by the return of his usual warmth.

"Really? Tonight?" Joss exhaled before his charm kicked in, smooth and inviting. "Look, Richard knows us, trusts us—how about it? Would you like to come over? We’re herbivores, just like you. I’m sure Richard’s told you all about Wilbur and me..."

Ceder’s ears burned as heat spread across his face, a blush creeping up his neck. He didn’t need Richard to tell him. The scent of elk—intoxicating, wild—had already told him everything. The deeper scent of Richard himself. And everything that came with it. What he had shared with an elk.

They’re elk... Ceder’s muzzle fell open as realization slowly spread through him. Elk...

"Ceder? Hello?" Joss’s voice came through the receiver that had fallen onto the couch.

With a nervous giggle, Ceder snatched it up and held it back to his ear. "Uh... sure, say... about seven?"

Ceder’s eyes widened fearfully as the words left his mouth. His mind raced, and he didn’t even understand what he’d just agreed to.

"Awesome! See you then, oh... here's the address..."

Ceder didn’t hear. His mind was filled with the pounding of his frantic heart, as though it was trying to escape his chest. Subconsciously, he'd remember the address, but in that moment, all he could feel was sudden fear and doubt.

"Oh, it’ll be great, a shame Richard can’t come..." Joss’s voice carried a subtle tone, one that went unnoticed by the confused mule deer. "Seven it is, can’t wait to meet you. Richard adores you and has said nothing but praise about you! Ciao!"

The receiver slipped from Ceder’s nerveless fingers, the hum of an empty line coming from it.

Am I allowed to leave my home? Am I allowed to meet others? The spiralling thoughts grew louder, pushing him toward doubt, until the sharp, commanding voice sliced through them.

Stop that! it ordered, steady and forceful. You’re not that anymore. You’re your own buck. Richard is your mate, not your keeper. You’re free to live your own life!

Ceder flinched, the weight of the words sinking into him, his breath catching in his chest. The voice wasn’t his, but it had always been there—strong, constant—pulling him back from the brink of his spirals, reminding him of the truth.

He stood, fighting against the unease that still coiled in his chest, and smoothed down the emerald green robes that clung to him. The fabric felt heavier than usual, but he didn’t let it stop him. One step at a time.

With a deep, steadying breath, he reached for the door handle. His fingers trembled, the cold metal biting into his skin, but he held on. He could do this. He would do this.

The door clicked softly behind him, and for a brief moment, he stood in the quiet weight of Richard’s absence. The pull of old fears threatened to slow him, but Ceder didn’t linger. He stepped outside, the unfamiliar world ahead of him. He couldn’t predict what would happen tonight, but for once, he wasn’t letting the past decide for him.

*

Chapter Two: Facing One’s Fears

Ceder stepped out of the taxi, his movements jittery, like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. The gardens stretched out before him, bright with colour and life, and the winding path leading to the front door seemed to go on forever. He couldn’t help but feel out of place, like he didn’t belong here.

Every instinct screamed at him to turn around, to retreat to the safety of home. But Richard had trusted these people. Richard had said they were safe.

With a quick, shaky breath, Ceder forced himself to start walking toward the front door. The gravel crunched under his cloven hooves, too loud, but it kept him grounded, moving forward. His legs felt heavy with uncertainty, but he kept going.

At the door, he hesitated for just a moment, his hand hovering near the handle. He was here. He could do this.

With a shuddering exhale, Ceder reached out again, his fingers trembling as they pressed against the wood. His knuckles knocked softly three times, each sound echoing in the quiet night.

A moment later, the door opened. Joss stood in the doorway, looking every bit the charming, immaculate figure Ceder had imagined. His dark eyes softened when they met Ceder’s, and a warm smile spread across his face. He was dressed casually in a fishnet tank top and tight shorts that left little to the imagination—impossibly form-fitting, but the attention was drawn to his presence, to the way he carried himself. His antlers glinted softly in the dim light, and Ceder couldn’t help but be taken aback by his beauty.

Ceder blinked, unsure of how to even begin processing the sight. Joss's confidence was striking, magnetic, but it wasn’t just that.

The scent came next.

The heavy, earthy musk of rut hit him all at once, like a force that pushed into his lungs, almost knocking him back on his heels. It was intoxicating, primal—a scent that carried something deeply wild and undeniable. Ceder’s breath caught, his chest tightening as the air seemed to grow thicker, wrapping around him.

It was Joss. But it was more than just Joss. It was the scent of something powerful, something he couldn’t ignore.

Joss's smile softened at the hesitation he saw in Ceder’s eyes, and he chuckled low, his voice gentle. “You okay?”

Ceder’s words caught in his throat, his mouth dry as he struggled to steady himself. The feeling was overwhelming, almost dizzying. He forced himself to stand taller, though his body still trembled faintly from the sudden onslaught of sensation. “I... I’m fine,” he said, though the words came out quieter than he intended.

Joss’s gaze softened, sensing his discomfort, and with an almost playful glint in his eye, he moved closer. “Sorry about that,” he said with a rueful grin. “It’s that time of year for us elk.”

Ceder swallowed hard, his ears burning with embarrassment. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Joss, even as his mind spun, trying to regain a sense of composure. The flush creeping across his face felt out of his control, but Joss didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he reached out gently, his hand brushing across Ceder’s cheek in a soft, reassuring gesture.

“Take a seat,” Joss said, his voice coaxing but light. He led Ceder toward the couch, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder before pulling back. “Easy, just breathe. It’s alright.”

Ceder nodded, still trying to process, his heart racing as he sank onto the couch. The scent lingered in the air, faint but strong, and his thoughts buzzed like a distant storm. He was overwhelmed, but not in a way he could easily explain. Not yet.

“Never seen someone react quite like that before,” Joss mused, settling into the space across from Ceder. He regarded him with a touch of curiosity, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Ceder closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breathing. He could do this. He had to. With Richard’s trust, this was safe—this was a chance to be something more, to meet these others. But for now, all he could focus on was the weight of the air, the pulse of his racing heart, and Joss’s warm, knowing gaze.

Ceder’s throat went dry, his pulse racing as he tried to regain control. His heart still pounded in his ears, drowning out most of the world around him. The words caught in his chest as he tried to form a sentence, his breath still unsteady.

“Uh... I—” His voice faltered, too soft, almost apologetic. He had never expected this. Never imagined standing so close to... this. Joss’s scent was overwhelming, impossible to ignore. It was like a heavy, intoxicating weight in the air, pulling at Ceder's every instinct.

“I’m... I’m fine,” he managed, though the words barely sounded convincing even to him. He looked down, his fingers curling tightly around the fabric of his robe as if to steady himself, but his face burned with the weight of his blush.

“I... didn’t expect... this...” He swallowed, struggling for composure, trying not to appear too weak in front of Joss.

The young elk’s head tilted slightly, his brow furrowing for a brief moment before his eyes widened in realization. A chuckle escaped him as he leaned back slightly.

“Oh, oh... yeah, the rut, it... Well, you probably get it,” Joss chuckled, a sheepish look crossing his face. “Really should invest in some strong scent-neutralisers or something.”

Ceder blinked slowly, trying to get his racing heart back into a more manageable pace. His chest was tight, his pulse hammering in his throat. He didn’t quite succeed, though—his body still hummed with the overwhelming sensation of Joss’s presence.

“So, you’re Ceder, huh? Pleasure to meet you,” Joss continued, his tone warm and friendly, though there was a playful glint in his eye. “I’m Joss. I’m sure your mate has told you all about me…”

Ceder’s attempt to speak felt like an effort of monumental proportions. He nodded, lips parted as if he might say something, but the words didn’t come. He couldn’t seem to break the hold Joss had on him, not with the musk still thick in the air and the overwhelming physicality of the elk buck standing before him.

Joss seemed to notice the struggle, though, and his smile only grew as he stood up, slipping an arm casually around the lower back of the other figure in the room. “This hunk of bull,” Joss said with a grin, clearly enjoying the moment, “is Wilbur, my half-brother. Same mother, different father.”

Wilbur blinked slowly, then glanced up at Ceder, his gaze sharp and assessing but not unkind. “Wilbur? Say hello to our guest!”

Ceder’s eyes drifted up, following the lines of polished, immaculate hooves, strong calves, and thick, muscular thighs. His breath caught, sharp and unsteady, as his gaze reached Wilbur’s upper body—only to falter and widen with shock as he realized the imposing elk wasn’t clothed. The suddenness of the revelation made Ceder’s heart lurch again, and he stammered, trying to keep his composure.

“W-what—?” He trailed off, unsure of what to even say, his mind caught between confusion and the sudden weight of what he was witnessing.

Wilbur set down the tray of appetisers with a casual ease, his movements smooth and deliberate. He took a seat with a relaxed air, leaning back comfortably into the couch as though the entire room and its chaos were merely an afterthought.

"Ceder, is it?" Wilbur's deep voice was rich with an easygoing confidence. "A pleasure to meet you."

Joss, still standing, offered a small, almost teasing smile, but Wilbur’s gaze remained steady on Ceder. "Joss? Be a good little fawn and fetch our guest a drink. where are your manners?"

The command was light, but there was no mistaking the authority that ran through it, the way it seemed to settle naturally over the room. Joss didn’t seem bothered by it. He just nodded playfully before turning to move toward the kitchen.

Ceder swallowed hard, trying to catch his breath as the warmth from his flush crept up his neck, the heat spreading swiftly under his robes. His ears burned, a telltale sign of his discomfort. But it was more than just the presence of the two elk. It was Wilbur’s openness—the relaxed way he sat, totally unbothered by his complete nudity—that Ceder couldn’t wrap his head around.

The lack of shame in the other buck, the utter confidence radiating from him, was more than the poor mule deer could process. His mind raced, trapped in a haze of confusion and growing anxiety. Everything about Wilbur’s posture, his ease, seemed to put the very air in the room on edge. For Ceder, it was like he couldn’t quite figure out where to look, how to respond. His gaze flickered everywhere—anywhere but Wilbur’s bare form—but it was no use. Every part of Wilbur exuded strength, dominance, and an effortless power that made Ceder feel small in comparison.

"Here, at home," Wilbur spoke quietly, his voice calm, almost as if he didn’t have a care in the world. "We let ourselves... be ourselves. Urgh, humans, right?"

Ceder blinked, processing the casual ease in Wilbur’s words. Then he was startled as Joss returned with a drink in hand, holding it out to Ceder. His hands trembled slightly, eyes flicking from the glass to Joss’s face. Ceder frowned, a deep flush spreading across his cheeks.

"I... uh..." he stammered, unsure how to accept the drink, feeling more out of place with every passing second.

Joss raised an eyebrow, looking confused for a moment before his expression shifted dramatically. He slapped the back of his free hand to his forehead in exaggerated mock-drama. "Oops, sorry, I forgot! Let me fix this..."

With that, Joss turned back toward the kitchen, leaving Ceder feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

Wilbur chuckled, his deep, relaxed voice cutting through the air. "Ceder? It's alright, I know. You're probably not used to..." He made a sweeping gesture, encompassing himself and the entire room with an almost lazy flourish. "To this level of... well. As I said, here, at home, Joss and I can be who and what we want to be. If that means no modesty, after all, were we born with clothes? No."

He grinned, leaning back further into his seat, completely at ease in his exposed state. The lack of any hint of embarrassment only made Ceder feel more out of place, but he nodded slowly, trying to force the awkwardness down.

"Please," Wilbur continued with a warm, almost welcoming smile, "have some appetisers; they’re specifically made for us, herbivore types. Very good for digestion, you know."

Ceder’s eyes flickered from Wilbur’s smiling face to the platter of food and back again, unsure of what to do next. The stillness in the air, the weight of the tension, hung over him like a thick fog. The moment felt charged, but Ceder couldn’t quite bring himself to relax. He nodded slightly, reaching for a small appetiser, the taste of it almost foreign in his mouth.

Joss returned, the bowl held carefully in his hands, the ice clinking softly as he set it down on the small coffee table before Ceder. The bowl felt like an alien object to the hybrid, but it was something he had learned to accept—a drink meant for him, in a form he'd never quite gotten used to.

His hooflets clattered against the edge of the bowl as he reached out, and for a moment, he could feel the weight of his self-consciousness pressing against his chest. The warmth of Joss’s presence beside him, the calmness in Wilbur's nonchalant posture, and the feeling of being in this strange home—all of it collided within him, his nerves still fluttering.

Breathe... relax, you're safe here...

The soft voice inside him calmed the flurry of thoughts, and with a slow, steadying breath, Ceder picked up the bowl. He held it up to his muzzle, eyes flickering toward the clear liquid inside. The scent of alcohol hit him before anything else—sharp, strong, but not unpleasant. He leaned in, inhaling deeply. There was something comforting about the warmth it promised.

With a hesitant movement, he sipped. The burn of the liquid went down his throat, fierce at first, but then it melted into a warmth that spread through him, like being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night. It was more than just the alcohol. It felt safe. Like a reassuring presence was settling within him.

Ceder drank again, and this time, the warmth seemed to envelop his entire body. He could feel the tension in his muscles easing just a little, his mind beginning to quiet.

Across the room, Joss frowned slightly, watching Ceder’s reaction. There was a flicker of something behind his eyes—a mix of concern and something else, something private shared only with Wilbur. They exchanged a look, silent yet full of meaning. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it didn’t go unnoticed by Ceder. Something was unspoken between the two elk, and it felt as though Ceder had just stumbled into a quiet world of their own, one that he wasn’t yet a part of.

Wilbur, however, didn’t seem to mind. He leaned back in his chair, looking as relaxed as ever, his posture open and at ease despite his nudity. His eyes softened, and he gave a small nod toward Ceder.

“It’s alright,” Wilbur spoke quietly, his voice calm and unhurried. “You’re probably not used to... this kind of environment. But you’re safe here. No one’s going to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Ceder’s ears flattened against his head, his blush deepening, and the warmth of the drink seemed to heighten his awareness of everything around him. His eyes flickered to the two of them—Joss’s easy smile, Wilbur’s relaxed demeanor—and he swallowed hard, still trying to wrap his head around everything.

Joss had already turned to leave the room again, his figure slipping into the kitchen, and for a moment, Ceder was left with his thoughts, the silence settling between them.

“Joss and I,” Wilbur continued, “we’ve lived in this place long enough that we’ve stopped worrying about keeping up appearances. Here, we just let ourselves be who we are. No masks, no pretending.”

Ceder nodded slowly, but his mind felt like it was spinning. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the sudden, overwhelming sense of being out of his depth, but every word Wilbur spoke felt like it was opening some door to a world Ceder wasn’t sure he was ready to step into.

Joss returned moments later, carrying a bowl of something new for Ceder. He smiled warmly at the Hybrid before setting it down in front of him.

“This one’s more your speed,” Joss teased gently, his voice light. “Less strong. Thought I’d help you out a bit.”

Ceder blinked at the new drink, his throat dry, unsure if he should even try it. The exchange between the two elk felt so seamless, so natural, while he sat here trying to make sense of it all.

“You’re fine,” Wilbur assured him, his deep voice carrying a comforting weight. “Take it slow. No rush.” He gestured around the room again. “We’re all friends here. No need to rush through anything.”

Ceder’s breath slowed, his pulse calming just a bit. Maybe Wilbur was right. Maybe it wasn’t about rushing or about fitting in. Maybe it was about simply being. But the complexity of it all weighed on him—the overwhelming energy of the place, the ease of the two elk’s bond, and the strange calmness that was beginning to settle in him as he took another slow sip from his bowl.

For the first time since arriving, he let himself focus on that warmth, just allowing himself to be present in this moment.

Joss slipped off his fishnet tank top, then his tight shorts, folding them neatly and draping them over the arm of a nearby chair. He stood in front of Ceder, a lazy stretch of his body, his movements smooth and fluid, as if every part of him was attuned to the air around him. His muscles flexed under his smooth, tawny skin, and as he stood up straight, his posture became more relaxed, almost confident, every line of his body a testament to his natural, unfiltered presence.

Ceder’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened as they moved over Joss’s exposed form, not just the strength in his arms and chest but the fluid grace of his movements. It wasn’t just physical beauty that made Ceder’s pulse quicken—it was the rawness of Joss’s presence. Where Wilbur had exuded control and ease, Joss seemed... wilder, untamed, still so much like the creature he was.

Ceder’s eyes dropped involuntarily, his breath catching in his throat once more as he took in Joss’s lower half. The younger elk’s body, though similar to Wilbur’s, had a distinct, almost feral quality to it that Ceder hadn’t expected. The way his physique and posture stood apart from the fully human-like traits of Wilbur, the slight but clear difference between them—primal, unfettered, unrestrained.

A sharp, involuntary inhale made his chest tighten, and his gaze flicked away, his throat dry as he fumbled with the drink in his hands. The sudden awareness of Joss’s physicality hit him like a wave, and it was enough to make him sputter, choking slightly as the drink went down the wrong way.

Joss chuckled lightly, though there was a softness in his expression. "You okay there, Ceder?" He said teasingly, still facing him. His playful grin was warm but mischievous. "I know it’s a lot to take in."

Ceder’s eyes darted quickly to Joss’s face, flustered, but still unable to stop his mind from processing what he’d just seen. "Y-yeah," Ceder managed, though his voice was hoarse. "Just... a little surprised."

Joss’s smile widened, and he gave an exaggerated sigh as he stretched, almost lazily. "Same mother, different fathers," he added with a wink, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ceder’s mind processed the words, though it took him a moment to understand. He had already begun to see the differences between Wilbur and Joss—Wilbur, with his composed human-like energy, and Joss, with his untamed, feral quality. The way Joss held himself, unashamed, unrestrained, only deepened that realization.

Despite the embarrassment flooding Ceder’s face, a part of him couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of intrigue. He wanted to understand this new dynamic between them, to make sense of what he was feeling in this unfamiliar space. Joss’s teasing was just part of it, but there was something about his wild energy that Ceder found... fascinating. The contrast between the two brothers, so similar and yet so different, left Ceder feeling unsure of himself but still curious.

Joss laughed softly, as if reading Ceder’s mind. "You’re blushing, Ceder. It’s cute," he teased before giving him a moment to recover, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Trying to steady his breathing, Ceder nodded, feeling his ears burn. “I’m... fine,” he muttered, his voice small.

With a friendly grin, Joss moved back to the kitchen, leaving Ceder alone with his thoughts and the heavy tension in the air.

Wilbur glanced over at Ceder, his eyes gentle but observant. "Relax, Ceder. Here, we just... are. No judgment." His tone was calm, almost soothing, as he glanced at his younger brother. "You’re safe here."

Ceder’s hands gripped the edge of the bowl as if it could anchor him. There was a strange comfort in Wilbur’s easygoing presence, despite his bare form, that made the whole situation feel less overwhelming. Still, the mix of confusion, curiosity, and desire left Ceder feeling off-kilter.

Joss leaned back, his legs casually crossed as he eyed Ceder with an amused gleam in his eyes. The tension in the air was palpable, but there was something about Ceder’s hesitance that only seemed to fuel Joss’s playful nature. A slow grin spread across his face.

“You’re making it hard not to tease you, Ceder,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “I mean, if I’d known the sight of me would leave someone this speechless, I’d have dressed better.” He chuckled, the sound warm, almost inviting.

Ceder blinked, looking anywhere but directly at Joss. His hooves fidgeted against the floor, his heart racing at the sound of Joss’s voice. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to hide or just… breathe and find some way to not let the fluttering in his chest take control.

Joss’s smile widened as he watched Ceder struggle. “Relax, I’m not going to bite… much,” he teased, though his eyes softened just a little.

The words hit Ceder like a jolt of electricity. He wasn’t sure whether to be more embarrassed or intrigued. A nervous laugh bubbled up in his chest, but he managed to suppress it, forcing himself to calm down. But the way Joss was looking at him, the way he moved, it was hard to ignore the tension that kept tightening around his chest.

Joss leaned a little closer, just enough for Ceder to notice the subtle shift in space. It wasn’t quite an invasion of his bubble, but it was close enough to make Ceder’s breath hitch.

“Didn’t think I’d catch your attention so easily,” Joss murmured, voice softening just a touch. “But you know… there’s something about you. I can’t quite place it. It’s like you’ve got this way of carrying yourself.”

Ceder felt the heat rise in his face as Joss’s gaze seemed to linger over him, taking in the way he held himself, the subtle shift in his posture when he was nervous. It felt… unnerving and yet strangely comforting at the same time.

“Really?” Ceder whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. He stole a glance at Joss, unsure of what he was looking for but desperately hoping it was something that would make him feel less exposed.

“Really,” Joss repeated with a wink, his tone warm. “You’ve got this… presence. Makes a person want to keep looking at you. Don’t think I’m the only one who noticed.”

Ceder’s pulse quickened, and his mouth went dry. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” he managed, his words stuttering slightly.

Joss chuckled, sensing the inner turmoil in Ceder’s hesitation. But rather than pushing, he let his hand fall casually on the back of the couch, just a few inches from where Ceder sat. His fingertips brushed the fabric of Ceder’s robes as he adjusted his position, his gaze still fixed on Ceder’s reaction.

“You’re a cute one, Ceder,” Joss said lightly, his voice teasing but with a softness that wasn’t lost on Ceder. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I didn’t think you’d be this easy to fluster.”

Ceder’s face flushed deeper, his ears flicking forward and then backward in a flurry of uncertainty. He tried to keep himself composed, but the teasing words, the playful way Joss’s eyes sparkled—it was too much.

He opened his mouth to speak but froze, unsure of how to form the words. His chest tightened as his breath came faster, and he felt himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. Was this how it felt to have someone pay attention to him like this? To be seen in this way?

Joss leaned in a little closer, his lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. “I didn’t think you’d get so shy, Ceder,” he said, his voice dropping to something just a little more intimate. “But I like it. You’ve got this… innocence about you. Makes me want to keep teasing you.”

Ceder’s throat went dry, his pulse hammering in his ears. He tried to swallow, but it was like his body wasn’t cooperating. Why was this so overwhelming?

Joss’s eyes softened slightly, though the playful glint never entirely left them. “But don’t worry,” he added, his hand now resting just an inch away from Ceder’s arm. “You don’t have to be nervous around me. I’m not going to bite—at least, not unless you ask nicely.”

Ceder’s breath hitched. There was a warmth in Joss’s eyes that made him want to trust him, to let go of the tension and just let himself relax into the moment. But his mind was racing, unsure of where to go from here.

Joss must have noticed the hesitation because he quickly withdrew his hand and leaned back, giving Ceder some space. “Take your time, Ceder,” he said, his voice soothing now. “I know I’m a little much sometimes. But, hey, you’ve got a good vibe about you. You’re not like the others, and I can appreciate that.”

Ceder swallowed, finally managing a small, shaky smile. His heart was still pounding in his chest, but something in Joss’s words had made him feel like maybe… just maybe… it was okay to be himself here. To be seen.

“I—I’m not used to this,” Ceder admitted quietly, his voice softer now, more open. “People don’t really… treat me this way.”

Joss’s expression softened, the teasing smirk replaced by something gentler, more understanding. He didn’t push Ceder; instead, he just nodded slowly, as if to say that he understood.

“It’s alright,” Joss said quietly. “You can be yourself here. You’re not going to be judged. You don’t have to be anything but what you are.”

The sincerity in Joss’s words made Ceder’s chest tighten again, but this time, it wasn’t fear—it was something else. Something hopeful, something that felt like it could grow if he allowed it. And maybe, just maybe, it was okay to want more than just his comfort zone.

Joss settled beside Ceder, his presence warm and close, his hooflets idly tracing the delicate edge of Ceder’s ear. The light touch sent a ripple down the mule deer's spine, his breath hitching, ears twitching involuntarily beneath the elk’s fingers.

“So," Joss murmured, his tone laced with quiet mischief. "Tell me about yourself. About your mate—oh, forgive me. Your partner? Does he satisfy you?”

Wilbur exhaled sharply, ears flicking back. “Joss.”

“What?” Joss smirked, entirely unrepentant. “We’re all adults here.”

Ceder swallowed, nerves bubbling up as he gave a breathless little laugh, unsure how to respond. He risked a sidelong glance at Joss, finding the elk’s dark eyes watching him, half-lidded, teasing. The warmth of Joss’s breath ghosted over his cheek, the intoxicating musk of rut still thick in the air, mingling with the slow burn of alcohol in Ceder’s veins. It was loosening something in him, unraveling his usual restraint.

“Yes,” he managed, voice quieter than he intended. “Very much so. He’s… kind. Gentle. Patient with me.” His fingers curled against his lap, head dipping slightly. “I love him. Truly.”

Joss sighed, not in disappointment, but something softer—thoughtful. His fingers, which had stilled, resumed their gentle caress along the rim of Ceder’s ear, barely grazing. He shifted, resting his head against Ceder’s shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Then why are you trembling?” he murmured, voice low. “Hey… it’s okay.”

Ceder’s breath caught. He wasn’t sure he could answer. His body reacted before his mind could untangle itself—before he could remind himself that he shouldn’t, couldn’t lean into this warmth.

“My…” He exhaled, shuddering slightly, gaze dropping to his lap. “My ears are… very sensitive. And, um… have a rather…”

Joss stilled for half a second. Then his eyes widened, and he gasped—so dramatically, so theatrically, that even Wilbur groaned.

“Oh—oh,” Joss blurted, yanking his hand back like he’d been burned. “Oh my gods, Ceder, I’m so sorry, I never—”

Ceder didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the quiet pull of something deeper, but before he could second-guess himself, his trembling fingers caught Joss’s hand. For a moment, he only held it, feeling its warmth, its steadiness, drawing from it. And then—hesitant, uncertain, but not unwilling—he lifted it, tilting his head ever so slightly.

A small, silent offering.

“It… it felt nice,” Ceder whispered.

"Joss…" Wilbur snorted, his deep voice carrying the weight of a warning. "Play nice."

Joss rolled his eyes, throwing Ceder a conspiratorial look before turning his head and sticking his tongue out, his eyes crinkling with mischief.

Wilbur huffed. "Keep it up, and I'll make you use that tongue."

Joss giggled, his shoulders shaking as he turned back to Ceder, leaning in again. His fingers brushed along the velvet-soft edge of Ceder’s ear, teasing, exploring, before his breath ghosted over it in a whisper. "He would too… and between you and me?" His voice dipped into something sultry. "It’s amazing…"

Ceder blinked, then let out a nervous giggle, the tension in his shoulders easing against the warmth of Joss’s touch. His walls, already fragile under the weight of drink and comfort, crumbled further. Slowly, hesitantly, he tilted his head, a silent offering—one of trust, of willingness. The gesture did not go unnoticed.

Joss took his time stroking the full length of Ceder’s large, soft ears, watching as the hybrid reacted to every delicate touch. His eyes flicked to Wilbur when the older elk chuckled, shaking his head.

“I heard,” Wilbur mused, downing his drink in one smooth swallow, “that mule deer got their name from those big, expressive ears.”

Ceder barely had time to register the words before Joss’s tongue flicked out, warm and wet, tracing from the base of his ear to the very tip in one slow, deliberate motion. The sensation sent an unexpected shudder through Ceder, his breath hitching. His body betrayed him—his spine stiffened, his fingers curled into his lap, a whimper half-swallowed in his throat.

Joss stilled for just a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, before Ceder could recover, the elk leaned in further, pressing his broad, leathery nose against the juncture of Ceder’s neck and shoulder. He inhaled, deep and slow, before pulling back with the faintest furrow of his brow.

Ceder swallowed hard, looking away, ears flattening in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I… I couldn’t help it.”

"It’s… not what I expected," Joss murmured, his smile curling at the edges. With effortless grace, he slid forward, straddling Ceder’s hips in one smooth motion. His arms draped over the startled mulie’s shoulders, casual, effortless—as if he belonged there. "I thought, you know, bucks, our musk, all that…”

Ceder blinked, his breath catching. His hands hovered uncertainly at Joss’s waist before falling away. "I… don’t have the… I mean, I do, but my scent is…not right. Not what it should be. My rut isn’t for another few months…"

His gaze flickered to Wilbur, searching for something—reassurance, maybe? But Wilbur only raised a brow, tapping a finger idly against his jaw as he observed, unreadable.

"Really?" Joss mused, his fingers returning to their slow, teasing path along the curve of Ceder’s ear. A feather-light stroke, careful, almost reverent. Then—his lips twitched mischievously—he gave the tip a playful tweak.

Ceder gasped, his body jolting as his hips snapped forward in a sharp, instinctual motion. His breath hitched, hands gripping Joss’s thighs as a flood of warmth surged through him. He barely had time to process the shock before his inner ears flushed a deep, unmistakable burgundy.

And then—his scent changed.

Subtle at first, then blooming—heady, undeniable, threading through the air until it nearly rivalled the elk’s own.

"Whoa..." Joss exhaled, leaning back slightly, his eyes flickering with something unreadable—curiosity? Amusement? Intrigue? He inhaled, slow and deliberate, his pupils dilating as he took it in.

"What was that?"

Wilbur chuckled—that deep, quiet sound that rumbled through his chest—before he rose, stepping over to them. His large hand settled on Joss’s neck, fingers pressing in a firm squeeze. "Joss, stop terrorising the poor buck. I swear, you should have been born a doe."

Joss let out a playful bleat, squirming deliberately on Ceder’s lap before twisting his head to look back at his towering, powerful brother. His grin was wicked, teasing. "Mmm… maybe?"

"No maybe," Wilbur rumbled, the amusement in his voice laced with something almost fond. His sharp gaze flickered to Ceder. "Forgive this fawn. The rut affects him… intensely. He isn’t trying to be annoying—it’s just who he is."

"Hey!" Joss gasped dramatically, then giggled. "Who you calling a fawn?"

Ceder, grateful for the momentary reprieve, wrestled with his instincts. It was easier said than done. The warmth of Joss straddling his thighs, the weight of him pressing down just enough to tease—but not quite enough to overwhelm—the scent of rich, intoxicating musk clinging to his senses… none of it helped. Not one bit.

Joss was warm. Too warm.

The weight of him straddling Ceder’s thighs, the heat of his breath against his ear, the subtle roll of his hips—it was too much, too close. Every teasing brush of fingers against the sensitive velvet of his ears sent a fresh jolt of sensation crackling through his body, dissolving what little restraint he had left.

His scent was changing.

Ceder knew it, could feel it in the way Joss stilled for a fraction of a second, his playful smirk faltering, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly. The air between them thickened, charged, heavy with something neither had spoken aloud—but both understood.

“Still fighting it?” Joss’s voice was quieter now, almost a purr. He leaned in, lips barely brushing Ceder’s jaw, warm breath teasing the fine hairs of his throat.

Ceder shuddered.

His hands clenched into his lap, his hooves scraping against the floor in a weak, futile attempt to ground himself. He tried to answer, to deflect, to say something, but the words stuck in his throat.

Joss chuckled, his muzzle nuzzling into the crook of Ceder’s neck, breath slow, deliberate. “You're trembling, sweetheart…”

Ceder gasped, his whole body jerking as Joss’s teeth grazed his skin—not biting, not quite, but just enough to send an involuntary shockwave down his spine. His fingers shot up, gripping Joss’s hips in a desperate attempt to still him, to stop whatever this was before it consumed him completely.

But that was his mistake.

Joss froze. Not in hesitation, not in fear—no, there was nothing uncertain in the way the young elk tilted his head, as if suddenly understanding something profound.

Then he smirked.

“Oh… there you are.”

Ceder made a strangled noise—somewhere between a gasp and a whimper—his ears burning, his entire body betraying him in a way that left him breathless. The heat pooling low in his stomach, the sharp, overwhelming scent of Joss’s musk mixing with his own… he couldn’t fight it.

Didn’t want to fight it.

Joss shifted again, slow and deliberate, his hands splaying over Ceder’s shoulders, his breath hitching now, though his smirk never faded. “Tsk, tsk,” he murmured, feigning innocence. “And here I thought mule deer were the shy ones.”

Ceder swallowed hard, fingers twitching against Joss’s hips, his body pleading for something his mind still refused to name.

Wilbur made a sound—something between an exasperated sigh and a chuckle.

“Joss,” he rumbled, but his voice held no real warning, only amusement.

Joss laughed, rolling his hips just once more before leaning in, brushing his lips teasingly close to Ceder’s ear.

“Mmm. You are going to be fun.”

And gods help him—Ceder believed him.

Ceder’s breath hitched as Joss’s fingertips brushed over the edge of his ear once more, sending a shiver down his spine. His body responded, despite his mind screaming at him to hold back. The warmth of Joss's body, the subtle weight of him straddling his thighs—everything felt too close, too intense. Ceder tried to focus on something, anything, other than how his pulse quickened.

Joss was so close. The scent of musk filled the air, mixing with the faint traces of alcohol in the room. Ceder could feel it—the way the tension hung between them, thick, heavy, something primal.

His chest tightened, and his breath became shallow. His mind told him to push Joss away, to resist, but his body betrayed him, shifting involuntarily. His hips twitched beneath the young elk’s weight, a response he couldn't ignore.

Joss’s eyes caught his, playful yet intense, as if he could sense the war going on inside him. “Something wrong, Ceder?” he murmured, his voice low, teasing.

Ceder swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. His fingers clenched at his sides, his knuckles white. Stay calm, he told himself. You’re in control.

But even as he thought it, the weight of Joss's gaze, the light pressure of his hands brushing his ear—Ceder couldn’t stop the warmth flooding his body. He could feel the heat in his chest, the unmistakable pull of something deep within him stirring.

Ceder's pulse was erratic now, every breath seeming too loud in the quiet room. Joss leaned in closer, his breath a soft ghost against Ceder’s skin. The soft, teasing stroke of his fingers against Ceder's sensitive ears had his body reacting without him even meaning to.

His hands twitched, and Ceder barely noticed he was shifting in his seat until his hips involuntarily bucked upward, his body pressing against Joss. He gasped, trying to force himself to stop, but it was no use. His body was betraying him, reacting to every shift of Joss’s body against his, the subtle pressure on his thighs.

His mind screamed at him to resist, to push Joss away. No, not yet, but every fiber of his being was telling him it was too late. The scent of musk—the raw, feral essence of Joss—was pulling him in. It made him dizzy, light-headed. He couldn’t stop his breathing from quickening.

And then, the unexpected happened. Joss leaned in close again, brushing against his ear in a way that made Ceder’s whole body tingle. His instincts were rising, the ones he had worked so hard to keep buried. They were clawing their way to the surface, desperate, eager.

Ceder closed his eyes, trying to steady his racing heart. He couldn’t—shouldn’t—let this happen. Control, Ceder, he told himself. You’re stronger than this.

But when Joss’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, a deep shudder ran through him. His breath stuttered, caught in his throat. Stop, he begged silently, but his body was moving on its own. He felt himself shift, his hips twitching against Joss’s. The urge to move closer—to feel more—was overwhelming. It wasn’t him. It was the feral part of him, the buck in him, the primal instinct that he couldn’t control.

"Joss," Ceder gasped, the words coming out as a plea. His eyes fluttered open, staring up at the younger elk, but his voice was shaky, uncertain. He tried to pull away, but his body, it wasn’t listening. It was being pulled by some deeper, more ancient need.

Joss didn’t stop. His hands continued their slow, tender exploration, tracing the line of Ceder’s ear, teasing, making Ceder’s thoughts scatter further. His body was on fire now, burning with a need he couldn’t explain.

His feral instincts, those that had been buried for so long, were waking up, and he was powerless to stop them.

Ceder felt his robes shift as he moved beneath Joss. The heavy fabric pressed against his skin, making him feel even more restricted, more confined. His body wanted—needed—more, but the robes were a barrier. A barrier he couldn't escape.

His hips rolled involuntarily, pressing upward against Joss, and a sharp breath caught in his throat. He could feel it now—the pull of the rut, the overwhelming urge to claim, to take.

Joss shifted again, his weight adjusting on top of Ceder. The teasing touch of Joss’s hands slid down to the back of his neck, making him shiver in response. Ceder gasped, feeling the heat rising in his chest, and despite everything in him telling him to stop, he couldn’t. His feral instincts, his buck nature—they were taking over, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Joss looked at him, his gaze soft but intense, understanding. He leaned in close again, whispering something that made Ceder’s heart race. But Ceder didn’t hear it, couldn’t hear it, because his mind was lost in the sensation of Joss's touch, the pull of his instincts surging forward.

And then it happened. Ceder’s mind broke.

His body, already primed by the warmth of Joss’s skin, the scent of elk musk, and the overwhelming tension in the air, could no longer hold back. It wasn’t Ceder anymore. It was the buck, the feral side of him, that drove him forward.

He pressed his hips up hard against Joss, his body desperate for release. His breath caught in his throat as the instinctual urge to take overtook him. His mind was no longer in control.

Ceder’s hands shot out, grabbing Joss’s shoulders and pulling him closer. There was no hesitation now—just a rush of instinct, a need so deep it couldn’t be ignored. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t tenderness. It was something primal, something raw.

And as the last vestige of control slipped away, Ceder gave in to the overwhelming desire, no longer able to stop himself.

As the moment passed, the room seemed to fall into a heavy silence. Ceder lay there, still, trying to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. His body was slick with the remnants of what had just transpired, and his mind was a swirl of confusion and disoriented thoughts. The human part of him wanted to curl up in shame, but the feral side—the part of him that had been so eager, so driven by instinct—seemed to revel in the aftershocks of the rut.

Joss, too, was quiet for a moment. His chest was still heaving, but the playful gleam in his eyes had shifted, replaced with something softer, almost tender. He slowly ran his hand down Ceder’s arm, a silent reassurance, but it didn’t ease the turmoil inside Ceder.

“I... I didn’t mean for that to happen like that,” Ceder whispered, voice low, his words catching in his throat. He still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the overwhelming need he had just given in to.

Joss chuckled softly, the sound more genuine this time. “It’s alright, Ceder. You don’t have to apologise. That was intense, yeah. But it’s natural. Sometimes, you know, things just happen...”

Ceder turned his head, meeting Joss's gaze with wide eyes, his body trembling, breath coming in frantic, panicked gasps. "I lost control."

Joss shrugged slightly, running a thumb along Ceder's arm. "That happens sometimes. Doesn’t make it any less real, though. You just had to let it out."

A deep sigh left Ceder’s chest, and he closed his eyes, trying to settle his thoughts. He had given into his feral side so completely, and part of him regretted it. But another part... the instinctive part—the part that had been buried for so long—felt satisfied, content, in a way he hadn't known he needed.

“What now?” Ceder murmured, unsure of what came next. “How does this… change things?”

Joss shifted, sitting up slightly. "Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to. But there’s no harm in exploring what this side of you means... and maybe we can figure it out together."

Ceder swallowed hard. His heart still pounded, the warmth in his body slowly ebbing away, but the uncertainty remained. He wasn’t sure what it meant, wasn’t sure what would happen next, but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel quite so alone in it.

Joss swallowed, then gave a tentative chuckle. "Yeah... they don't call you Mule deer because of your ears..."

Ceder, still trembling, gave a fragile giggle as he struggled to calm himself, the endorphins still surging like fire through his mind, the adrenaline flowing like a river. "No... they don't."

He lowered his gaze, his body still thrumming with intensity, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts. His mind fought against the haze, but it was hard to focus with the warmth of Joss still pressed against him. The weight of what had just happened, of what he had just done, was starting to settle in.

Joss shifted slightly, his breath warm against Ceder's skin. "You okay?"

Ceder’s lips parted, but he hesitated, his heart still racing. "I... I don't know. I’ve never..." His voice faltered, the words caught in his throat.

Joss gave him a playful yet reassuring nudge. "It's alright, Ceder. You’re not the first to... lose yourself to instinct. You're fine. Really." He paused, a gentle laugh escaping him. "I think we both are."

Ceder swallowed, his body still trembling slightly. “I didn’t... I didn’t mean to... I just couldn’t help it,” he murmured, the words barely a whisper.

Joss’s gaze softened, a mix of understanding and tenderness in his eyes. "I know," he said, voice low and warm. "It’s in you. In your blood, just like it is in mine. You don’t have to apologise for it."

Ceder looked up at him, still catching his breath. "But I... I wasn’t thinking. I lost control."

“You’re here, with me, and you're okay. That’s all that matters.” Joss’s tone was gentle, reassuring. “And hey, it’s a pretty impressive display of strength. I wasn’t expecting that. You really are a buck, huh?”

Ceder couldn’t help but let out another soft laugh, though it was laced with unease. "I guess so..."

Joss leaned in closer, his voice lowering. "No shame in it, Ceder. None at all." His fingers gently brushed against Ceder’s trembling hand. "Just let it pass. We’re both here. We’re alright."

Ceder nodded, feeling the warmth of Joss’s presence easing his frazzled nerves, even if the storm inside him wasn’t quite over yet.

Wilbur came back in, carrying a new tray of snacks. Before he blinked, his ears flicking, and he gave a bemused chuckle, setting it down.

"It... wasn't my fault..." Joss nervously giggled, then looked at Ceder, who shuddered beneath him. "Things... got out of hand."

"Joss, I cannot believe... actually, knowing you as well as I do, brother, I can believe." Wilbur's tone is a mix of exasperation and affection.

Ceder, still recovering, shifted uncomfortably beneath Joss, his breath uneven as he felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The aftershocks of his rut were still making his body tremble, and his thoughts were a tangled mess. His ears twitched at Wilbur's comment, his mind trying to process it all, but the sensation of Joss so close, so heated, still lingered.

With a deep tremble, Joss leaned forward, his lips brushing gently against Ceder's neck, nuzzling him with soft, careful affection. Ceder’s pulse raced under his touch, and he could feel the beat of it thundering in his ears.

"Damn Mulie's..." Joss's breath ruffled Ceder's ears, the teasing murmur sending another shiver through his frame. "I had no idea..."

The words, though playful, held a hint of awe, as if Joss were still processing just how intense the moment had been.

Ceder swallowed, trying to steady himself, his hands clutching the fabric of his robes as if it could tether him back to reality. "I-I didn’t mean to... it wasn’t planned," he stammered, the vulnerability in his voice unmistakable. His wide eyes glanced at Wilbur for a moment, seeking some form of reassurance, but all he saw was amusement—and perhaps something more, something deeper in the elder elk’s gaze.

Wilbur placed the tray of snacks down with exaggerated care, his smirk growing. "It's alright, Ceder," he said with a knowing chuckle. "It’s... in your nature as much as it is in Joss’s. We just... don’t usually see it in action quite like that." He turned his attention to his brother, then back to Ceder. "You’ll both be fine. Just give it time."

Joss’s lips curled into a half-grin, his hands resting against Ceder’s chest as he pulled back slightly, eyes full of amusement and perhaps a bit of mischief. "Guess you got me there, Ceder. I didn’t expect... that much." His voice lowered to a more intimate tone. "But, hey, I’m not complaining. Not by a long shot."

Ceder, still flushed, let out a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling quickly as he fought the urge to hide or retreat. It was all so overwhelming, the aftereffects of the moment swirling inside him. But in the presence of Joss and Wilbur—despite the lingering discomfort—he felt oddly safe.

"Yeah... I didn’t know... either," Ceder whispered, his voice betraying a sense of both confusion and reluctant acceptance.

Joss gave him a reassuring squeeze, his playful side still teasing but softer now, more caring. "It’s all good. Really. I just... wasn’t expecting your kind of fire." His eyes sparkled with a hint of admiration, an acknowledgement that, for all of Ceder's timidness, there was a strength, a power that had caught him off guard.

Wilbur, watching the exchange with quiet amusement, finally spoke again. "Ceder," he said with a more serious tone, "I meant what I said. No shame in it. It’s your nature, and Joss isn’t going to hold it against you."

Joss snorted lightly, giving his brother a playful shove. "Of course not. I liked it."

Ceder blinked at the casual response, his mind still struggling to comprehend how quickly everything had unfolded. There was no judgment here, not from either of the elk. And for the first time since everything had spiraled out of control, Ceder felt a flicker of relief.

"Yeah..." Ceder murmured, his voice still shaky but more steady now. "I... I think I’m alright."

Joss, sensing the quiet change in Ceder’s demeanor, smiled warmly and gave him one last gentle nudge. "You’ll be fine," he reassured, then leaned back against the couch, hands laced behind his head, a contented grin still lingering on his lips.

As the room settled back into a more comfortable atmosphere, the laughter, teasing, and awkwardness gave way to a calm that Ceder hadn't expected. He wasn’t sure what had just happened—what he’d just let himself feel, what he had become—but for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel as lost as he had before.

Joss still straddled Ceder’s lap, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as the weight of the moment settled around them. The air was thick with the scent of rut and musk, but there was something softer beneath it now—a vulnerability that Ceder could barely hold onto.

Ceder’s body trembled beneath Joss, and he tried desperately to calm himself. His chest still heaved with each breath, his hooves fidgeting nervously against the soft cushions beneath him. He didn’t know what had come over him, didn’t know how to process it, but now that it had happened, the aftermath seemed almost surreal.

Joss, sensing the shift in the air, shifted slightly, lowering his weight just a little, his hands still resting on Ceder’s ears, brushing the edges of them gently as he spoke in a softer, more concerned tone.

“Ceder… you okay?” Joss’s voice was barely a whisper, as though he feared his words might break the fragile moment between them.

Ceder blinked, his gaze flickering upwards, meeting Joss’s eyes for the first time since everything had happened. His heart was still racing, but there was something else there now—a small, fragile sense of calm. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself, but his voice faltered when he spoke.

“I… I didn’t mean for it to happen like that,” Ceder murmured, his ears flattening a little. He avoided Joss’s gaze, his body still a tangle of nerves and adrenaline.

Joss gave a quiet chuckle, though it wasn’t mocking. It was warm, even a little comforting. His fingers moved to Ceder’s ears again, tracing their sensitive edges, and the touch seemed to soothe the tremor in Ceder’s limbs.

“Well,” Joss said softly, a playful edge creeping back into his voice. “They don’t call you Mule deer for nothing, huh? But you didn’t exactly disappoint.”

Ceder’s breath caught, and he couldn’t stop the flush that spread across his cheeks. His heart thudded in his chest, the pulse in his neck quickening again. It wasn’t the teasing he minded—it was the way Joss’s words, his touch, seemed to settle him in a way he hadn’t expected.

Ceder swallowed again, struggling to find his words. “I… didn’t mean to…” His voice was shaky now, still not quite in control. He felt so vulnerable, so exposed.

Joss leaned in closer, his breath warm against Ceder’s skin as he kissed the side of his neck, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Ceder shuddered again, the contact sending another ripple of heat through him, but this time, it wasn’t driven by instinct—it was different.

“No need to apologise, Ceder,” Joss whispered, his voice a little softer now. “You’re fine. We’re good.”

Ceder tried to breathe through the wave of heat that rushed up his spine, but the intensity of it made him shiver. He wasn’t sure if it was the proximity to Joss, the lingering warmth, or the tender way Joss had been touching him, but his instincts were still there, still gnawing at him.

Joss paused, his expression softening as he noticed the way Ceder’s body still trembled beneath him. His thumb brushed gently over Ceder’s ear again, an almost imperceptible gesture that seemed to ground them both.

“You know,” Joss said, his voice taking on a quieter, more serious tone, “I didn’t expect a Mulie to be like that. But now I’m wondering what else you’ve got hiding under that calm exterior.”

Ceder’s eyes flickered upward, his body stiffening as Joss’s words hung in the air. His heart beat faster. What else had he been hiding, he wondered? He’d been living his life one way, trying to suppress his instincts, keep his desires in check. But now, after everything, he couldn’t help the flood of emotions that rose within him—guilt, longing, curiosity.

Before he could respond, Joss’s lips brushed against the edge of his ear, and Ceder gasped, the delicate touch pushing him over the edge once more. His hips moved instinctively, an unconscious reaction that jolted him with a mix of embarrassment and something else entirely—something deeper, primal.

Joss pulled back slightly, a playful but understanding smile on his lips. “You sure you’re alright, Ceder? ‘Cause you’re not exactly calm over there…”

Ceder’s breath hitched, his body still trembling, and he turned his face away, unable to look Joss directly in the eyes. “I… I don’t know what’s happening to me…”

Joss’s fingers traced the length of Ceder’s ear again, this time gentler, slower, almost as though he were trying to steady the buck’s racing thoughts. “It’s okay. Just take a breath. No need to figure it all out right now. We’ve got time.”

Time. It seemed like such a foreign concept in that moment. Everything felt like it was happening in a blur—everything except for Joss’s steady presence. Joss, who had just as much to process, but was somehow making it easier for Ceder to breathe through it all.

Ceder nodded, still not sure what to do with the sudden surge of emotions, the overwhelming instinct that had surged through him. He wanted to retreat, to pull away, but the warmth of Joss’s touch, the gentleness in his actions, made it hard to do so.

“Just…” Ceder’s voice trembled slightly as he tried to steady himself. “Don’t go. Please.”

Joss’s smile softened, and he leaned in again, this time kissing the side of Ceder’s neck, a longer, deeper kiss that sent another shudder through the hybrid. His hands moved to Ceder’s shoulders, holding him close as he murmured.

“I’m not going anywhere, Ceder.”

For the first time in a long while, Ceder allowed himself to relax, to let go of the tension that had built up in him. He didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, with Joss close to him, it didn’t matter.

Ceder’s chest heaved, a quiet, heavy sound filling the space between him and Joss. The aftershocks of what had just happened still rippled through his body, but he was lost—lost in the heat of the moment and the overwhelming sensation that coursed through him.

For a moment, he simply stared ahead, his breathing shallow, his head spinning. It had been too much. Too much all at once. He had just given into his instincts, his wild side, in a way he had never imagined—rutted with an elk.

Joss’s touch, his heat, his scent, it all mingled within Ceder’s senses, blending with the heady fog of alcohol that still lingered in his veins. The result was a world of confusion, of longing, of something too primal to ignore. He had imagined it so many times, but never like this. This was real. And the rawness of it was almost too much to handle.

Joss seemed to notice the shift in Ceder. His playful demeanor faded slightly, though the gentle teasing remained, his lips curling into a smirk that was somehow both understanding and confident.

“Guess we’ve crossed some lines now, huh?” Joss murmured, voice low, eyes glinting with an amused curiosity as he continued to knead Ceder’s ear.

Ceder didn’t respond right away, his mind still struggling to process the intensity of what had just transpired. His mind, for the first time, felt like it was truly melting—blurring the lines between fantasy and reality in a way he wasn’t sure he could pull back from.

The silence stretched between them until Ceder finally found his voice, though it came out in a breathless whisper. “I didn’t… expect it to feel like that…”

Joss’s grin widened, but before he could respond, a new presence filled the room. Wilbur, his older brother, had returned. He paused in the doorway for a brief moment, taking in the scene before him with a sharp look.

“Am I interrupting something?” Wilbur’s voice was laced with amusement, but there was something darker in it too—something that Ceder couldn’t quite place.

Ceder tensed, his heart skipping in his chest at the sight of Wilbur. Joss, still straddling his lap, shot a quick glance at his older brother and shrugged nonchalantly, as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

“Not at all,” Joss said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Just… showing the Mulie how things are done, you know?”

Wilbur’s lips curled into a half-smile, and he walked forward, his heavy, dominant presence seeming to fill the room. Ceder instinctively felt the tension in his body spike—Wilbur was different from Joss. Larger. More imposing. The contrast was impossible to ignore.

Wilbur’s eyes flickered down to Ceder, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. The intensity in his eyes sent a rush of heat through Ceder, and the hybrid’s breath hitched in his throat as he instinctively shifted beneath Joss. The way Wilbur looked at him… it was unlike anything he’d felt before.

Without a word, Wilbur moved closer, his large hand coming to rest on Joss’s shoulder in a silent command to ease off. Ceder blinked, confused, but the warmth of Joss’s presence slowly lifted as the younger elk slid to the side.

Wilbur knelt in front of Ceder, his broad frame towering over the mulie. The power of his presence was undeniable—his scent, his sheer size, it all pushed Ceder further into a dazed state.

“Let’s see how much of a Mulie you are,” Wilbur said softly, voice like velvet but with an edge that made Ceder’s heart race even faster.

The words hung in the air, thick with implication. It wasn’t a question. It was a challenge. And Ceder, caught between curiosity and trepidation, couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Ceder’s breathing picked up again, his mind still cloudy but clear enough to understand what was happening. He knew instinctively that this would be nothing like what he had experienced with Joss. Wilbur was something else entirely—stronger, more in control.

“Wilbur…” Ceder whispered, his voice tight with uncertainty and need.

Wilbur’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second, a flicker of something else—something far more intimate—before his expression hardened again. His hands were on Ceder’s thighs in an instant, his touch firm and possessive.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Ceder,” Wilbur murmured, though his voice was thick with desire. “But I’m going to test you. See how much you can take.”

Ceder’s heart was pounding in his chest as Wilbur’s hands slowly moved up his body, pushing aside the fabric of Ceder’s robes. The action was deliberate, unhurried, but full of that quiet dominance that made Ceder’s whole body respond in ways he couldn’t control.

Joss, now standing to the side, watched the scene unfold, his breath shallow as he leaned against the wall. His playful demeanor had melted into something more serious, but the tension in the room made it clear—this was Wilbur’s moment now.

And Ceder? He was teetering on the edge, uncertain, but unable to stop himself. His instincts—the same ones that had driven him to rut so violently with Joss—were still there, buried deep under layers of confusion and emotion, urging him forward.

Wilbur’s touch became more insistent, testing Ceder’s limits, making him feel every inch of his presence. The heat between them intensified, and Ceder’s pulse quickened as the realization dawned—this wasn’t just about physicality anymore. This was about something deeper, something primal.

And Ceder, once again, found himself lost in the moment, trapped between the allure of fantasy fulfilled and the reality of a world he was just beginning to understand.

Ceder felt a deep, almost suffocating warmth spreading through him as he knelt on the couch, his forearms resting lightly on the back, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of what had just happened. He was still processing it—the rawness, the rush, the strange satisfaction that came with it. But the confusion lingered, gnawing at the edges of his mind. Joss’s scent still clung to him, mingling with his own, and yet now, with Wilbur’s looming presence, it was a different kind of intensity building.

Wilbur stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. His imposing figure cast a shadow over Ceder, and Ceder instinctively lowered his head, his ears flicking nervously. He could hear the soft rustle of Wilbur’s clothing as he moved, could feel the weight of his gaze on his exposed back.

“Ceder,” Wilbur’s voice was a low murmur, tinged with something dark, something commanding. “Look at me.”

Ceder hesitated for a moment, but the command was undeniable. He turned his head slightly, catching Wilbur’s eye. The large elk’s expression was one of controlled dominance, the kind that made Ceder’s heart race, despite the uncertainty curling in his stomach. The air between them thickened with unspoken promises.

“You’ve had your taste,” Wilbur continued, voice smooth as velvet, “but there’s more to explore, don’t you think?”

The question wasn’t an invitation—it was a challenge.

Ceder swallowed, his throat dry. The embers of lust were still burning deep within him, and with Wilbur’s proximity, the heat of it spread further. His body reacted to the elk’s proximity, to the weight of his presence.

“Breathe, Ceder,” Wilbur’s voice broke through his racing thoughts, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. “Relax. Trust me.”

Ceder’s body wanted to fight it—wanted to retreat, to hide—but his mind rebelled against the fear. He was already past that point, wasn’t he? After everything that had happened, how could he deny what was happening now? How could he escape this overwhelming tide of sensation when it was all he'd ever craved and feared in equal measure?

He inhaled sharply, feeling the air fill his lungs, yet it didn’t seem to calm him as much as he had hoped. His pulse quickened, and without thinking, he pressed his cheek against the back of the couch, his ears twitching as he awaited whatever would come next.

“Good,” Wilbur’s voice was softer now, but no less commanding. “Now listen to me. I’m going to test your limits, Ceder. Let’s see just how much control you can keep.”

Ceder's heart stuttered. There was something in the way Wilbur spoke, something primal and unrelenting. It was a promise, and Ceder could feel the weight of it deep in his chest. His instincts screamed at him to flee, to pull away, but there was nowhere to go now—not physically, and not emotionally. He was already tethered to Wilbur by threads he hadn’t known existed.

Then Wilbur’s hand touched his back—gentle at first, before it became firm, pushing Ceder into the couch. His chest hit the cushion with a soft thud, but he didn’t protest. He couldn’t. Every fiber of his being screamed for the release that was waiting just beyond the horizon, and yet part of him remained terrified. The uncertainty swirled in him like a storm.

“Just breathe, Ceder,” Wilbur repeated, his tone almost comforting, yet it held an edge that reminded Ceder just how little control he had in this situation.

Ceder’s breath quickened again, his body twitching involuntarily beneath the elk’s touch. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending to be in control, when every cell in his body wanted to succumb to this overwhelming need.

Wilbur’s hand travelled lower, feeling the trembling muscles beneath Ceder’s robes. The pressure of it, the weight of Wilbur’s hands, reminded him that he was, in this moment, absolutely at the mercy of the elk’s power.

“Focus, Ceder. Focus on me.”

Ceder shuddered as the words washed over him, the raw sensuality of Wilbur’s presence making it hard to think at all. The air seemed to thicken with anticipation, and Ceder knew that soon, there would be no turning back.

Ceder's heart raced, still thrumming from the intensity of his earlier rapture. His mind, clouded with the remnants of lust and desire, swirled in a haze of confusion and yearning. He had never felt anything like it—his body ached with a heady mix of satiation and an insatiable hunger that hadn’t quite been fulfilled.

Wilbur’s presence behind him felt like a force of nature—powerful, unyielding, yet somehow gentle. The weight of Wilbur’s gaze settled on him, hot and steady, as though he could see into the very marrow of Ceder’s soul.

“Ceder,” Wilbur's voice, low and rich, whispered through the stillness. It was firm but gentle, and the sound of it shivered down his spine. “Trust me.”

Ceder nodded, breath shallow, lips parted in anticipation, and though his mind screamed with uncertainty, something in Wilbur’s tone—a promise, an unspoken vow—had him leaning into it.

His arms trembled as he rested them on the back of the couch, fingers curling into the fabric. The contrast of Wilbur’s warmth against his back as the elk settled closer sent a tremor through him. Despite the tenderness in the elder elk’s touch, Ceder could feel the firm, insistent pull of Wilbur’s presence—like gravity itself.

The tip of Wilbur’s finger brushed along Ceder’s spine, barely grazing the skin, and Ceder’s breath caught in his throat. His body responded before his mind could catch up, every nerve alive, hyper-aware. The simple touch was a prelude to something far more intimate—something more profound than anything he could have anticipated.

Wilbur’s other hand slid to Ceder’s side, his touch slow and deliberate as it moved up to cup the back of his neck, his thumb gently pressing against the soft skin just below his ear. Ceder’s breath stuttered at the pressure, at the perfect balance of dominance and care in the elder elk’s grasp.

“Relax,” Wilbur’s voice was a quiet command, as though he were weaving a spell around Ceder. “Let go of your walls, Ceder. It’s safe now.”

The words—so simple, yet so profound—sank deep into Ceder’s psyche. He felt the tension in his chest loosen, the burden of fear lifting, if only for a moment, in the face of such confidence and care. Wilbur's presence was a balm to his frazzled mind, the steady rhythm of his breathing a reassurance that he wasn’t alone in this.

As Wilbur leaned in, his lips brushing Ceder’s ear with the barest touch, the heat of his breath against Ceder’s skin seemed to send a spark of electricity through him. The elder elk’s words held weight, each syllable sinking into the depths of Ceder’s chest, slowly unraveling him.

With a gentle pull, Wilbur shifted Ceder, guiding him in a way that left him breathless, yet somehow anchored. The tenderness in his touch was like a soft tide pulling Ceder deeper, farther, into something more than mere desire. The Mulie’s body responded with an eagerness that surprised him—his feral instincts mixed with a hunger for the connection, for the trust Wilbur offered without hesitation.

For once, Ceder didn’t feel the sharp sting of fear or shame. He didn’t feel like an outcast or something less. Instead, there was only the undeniable connection between them, building quietly and steadily, like the crescendo of a song that made everything else fade away.

And in that moment, as Wilbur’s hands worked slowly but insistently to guide him, Ceder finally understood: This was not about control. It wasn’t about dominance or submission, not in the way he had always understood. It was about trust, about surrendering, about giving himself to something that was greater than his past, his fear, or his self-doubt.

And in that surrender, Ceder found a kind of peace—a quiet, powerful peace—wrapped in the strength and gentleness of Wilbur’s touch.

Ceder's breath hitched as Wilbur's large hand settled on his hip, his grip firm but gentle, grounding him. He could feel the pressure mounting in his chest, the weight of the moment too much to process fully. Every part of him screamed with anticipation, yet there was a strange sense of calm in Wilbur’s touch—powerful, possessive, but tender.

"Are you ready?" Wilbur's voice was low, almost a growl, but it held something softer beneath it. His thumb stroked Ceder's skin slowly, drawing circles on the small of his back.

Ceder's heart hammered in his chest, his senses heightened. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but there was an undeniable trust between them—something deep and primal. He nodded, his voice barely a whisper, "Yes."

Without another word, Wilbur moved closer, the heat of his body searing Ceder’s skin as his chest pressed against Ceder’s back. His hands slid over Ceder’s body, exploring with a slow, deliberate pace. He nudged Ceder’s hips apart gently, a careful but commanding motion.

Ceder felt the shift as Wilbur positioned himself—his size, his presence overwhelming in a way that was both thrilling and reassuring. He tensed for a moment, his muscles trembling, but Wilbur’s hand on his shoulder was steady, his thumb stroking in soothing motions, keeping him grounded.

When Wilbur finally entered him, it was slow—intentional. The sensation was overwhelming, a force of nature that made Ceder gasp in both surprise and pleasure. He closed his eyes, surrendering fully to the moment, his body responding to the rhythm of Wilbur’s movements.

Joss, still close by, kept his hand on Ceder’s ears, gently stroking them in a soothing rhythm that echoed the softness Wilbur brought to each of his thrusts. Ceder could feel himself unraveling, piece by piece, the feral instinct in him rising in a way he hadn’t known was possible. His body reacted instinctively, his hips pressing back into Wilbur’s with a need he hadn’t realized was so urgent.

But Wilbur didn’t rush him—he guided him, drawing out each moment. The slow, deliberate pace gave Ceder the chance to feel every inch of their connection, to process each overwhelming sensation. His walls crumbled slowly, steadily, as the sensation of being claimed, not just physically but emotionally, filled him completely.

Ceder’s breath caught in his throat as the pleasure built, his body shaking with the intensity of it. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the back of the couch, finding some purchase in the cushion beneath him. He let out a breathless gasp as Wilbur’s pace quickened, his control slipping as he let instinct guide him.

The raw intensity of it hit Ceder like a wave, washing over him in a rush of euphoria. He couldn’t hold back—his body trembled violently as bull elk's climax hit him, long and drawn out. He gave a sigh that bordered on a whimper, the deep, primal pleasure overwhelming him. It was unlike anything he had ever felt—this deep connection, this sense of being utterly consumed by someone who knew him, who understood him.

As Wilbur continued, his motions became slower, deliberate once again, grounding Ceder as the final waves of pleasure lingered. His hand moved to Ceder's shoulder, pulling him close as Wilbur found his release, again, then a third time in rapid succession, the bond between them sealing the moment in a way that was raw, powerful, and beautiful.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their breathing—heavy, synchronised. Joss’s gentle touch on Ceder’s ears kept the moment tender, grounding him as he came back to himself, the warmth of the elk still radiating through him.

Wilbur’s breath was steady against Ceder’s ear, his lips brushing against his skin. "You were beautiful," he murmured, the softness in his voice taking Ceder by surprise.

Ceder swallowed thickly, still trembling. Ceder had no words, he was mute, incapable. He'd never imagined how it'd feel, not like this, his wildest fantasies couldn't come within light-years of the reality. His body shivered uncontrollably, stricken by emotion, his body overwhelmed, his mind swept away from the experience. He didn’t know what else to say. Words felt too small for what had just happened.

Ceder’s breath hitched as Joss's playful question lingered in the air, but the tender kiss between his ears made him shiver with delight. The gentle, teasing affection grounded him, but his mind was still awash with the aftermath of his overwhelming connection with Wilbur. He didn’t have words—just the soft, trembling sound that escaped his lips when Joss’s question lingered.

Wilbur’s deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, pulling Ceder from his reverie. He felt the steady pressure of Wilbur’s hands on his back, guiding him gently, but with that familiar strength that had both soothed and claimed him.

“I’ve never had a Mulie,” Wilbur murmured, voice husky with aftereffects. “But you, my dear, were... wonderful.” His words were warm against Ceder's skin, and Ceder's breath hitched in a mixture of warmth and surprise, the aftershocks of pleasure still running through his body. “Yet we're not finished with you yet.”

Ceder’s heart skipped, his eyes widening in surprise. He hadn't anticipated anything further—hadn't fully processed what had just happened.

Joss’s grin widened at the sight of Ceder’s confusion. “Richard kind of… let on you really like us Elk,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He leaned down, his breath brushing against Ceder's ear. “So… how about we share this with you?”

Ceder’s tail began to flick side to side against Wilbur’s muscular stomach, a subtle sign of the desire still pulsing within him. It wasn’t just physical—it was a deeper connection that was beginning to settle in his chest. The offer, though unexpected, wasn’t something he could turn away from. He wanted this, wanted to explore it all, to feel that primal need met in ways he’d never known before.

He inhaled sharply, his body still trembling with aftershocks, and slowly turned his head to meet Joss’s gaze. It was a silent plea—one that conveyed both uncertainty and an undeniable pull toward them. His heart beat loudly in his chest, but beneath the uncertainty was something else: a longing, a desire that had been awakened in him.

Joss’s smile softened, his fingers brushing against Ceder’s ear, sending another shiver down his spine. “It’s okay, Ceder,” he murmured, voice soft yet confident. “We’ll take care of you. You’re safe with us.”

The comfort in Joss’s words, the kindness in his touch, and the strength in Wilbur’s presence were all too much for Ceder to resist. His body relaxed slightly, still trembling, but the rawness of the moment was no longer frightening. It was awakening something deeper—something that went beyond just pleasure, beyond just a shared intimacy. It was an undeniable bond, a connection that Ceder wasn’t sure he fully understood, but knew he couldn’t ignore.

Ceder slowly nodded, his voice shaky but firm in its acceptance. “I… I want this,” he whispered. “With you.”

Wilbur’s expression softened for a moment, the edge of his dominant demeanor fading into something gentler, more nurturing. “Good,” he said quietly, his hand once again resting on Ceder’s back, grounding him as he leaned in closer.

Joss’s hand slid up Ceder’s ear, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin. “Let’s explore this together, Ceder,” he whispered, and as his words settled into the space between them, Ceder felt his breath slow, his body still trembling, but filled with an unfamiliar warmth—a sense of safety within their presence.

Together, the three of them moved as one, Ceder’s body responding to the elk’s touches with growing trust and acceptance. The connection deepened, not just in physical terms but emotionally as well. The exchange, the shared experience, wasn’t just about what they could give to each other—it was about exploring new boundaries, creating new forms of connection, and allowing each other to grow in ways they had never imagined before.

Ceder’s body trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer weight of what was unfolding. The warmth of Wilbur’s hands, the tenderness of Joss’s touch, the deep connection that had sparked between them, were all becoming something more than just the physical sensations. They were becoming a release—a moment of pure surrender.

He had never imagined it would happen this way. Never dreamed that he would allow himself to be this open, this vulnerable. For years, his life had been defined by control, by a constant need to protect himself, to hide behind walls he had built out of necessity. But here, now, with them—Joss and Wilbur, with their dominance and care—he was no longer the scared, broken creature he'd once been.

For the first time in his life, Ceder gave himself utterly and completely. No demands, no fear, no submission to the pain and control of others—just a raw, pure surrender to what felt right.

The gentle pull of their hands, the steady, reassuring pressure of their bodies against his, made him feel real—alive in a way he had never allowed himself to be before. He was not just reacting to them, not just playing a role anymore. He was himself, in every sense of the word—vulnerable, open, and for the first time ever, free.

A soft, breathless gasp escaped him as his body responded, but it wasn’t the same frantic, desperate response of before. This time, it was slow, deliberate, an unspoken conversation between his heart and theirs. His tail flicked softly behind him, and the tension that had coiled so tightly in his body began to loosen, unraveling as he allowed himself to truly be in the moment.

Wilbur’s hand brushed against his spine with an almost reverent touch. “You’re giving yourself to us,” he murmured, his voice thick with appreciation, a quiet promise of care and attention. “Not just your body... but your heart.”

Ceder’s breath caught, and he realized the truth in Wilbur’s words. This wasn’t about dominance or power. It was about connection, about healing, about trust. And in this moment, Ceder could finally believe that it was okay to let go, to be held, to be loved without conditions.

Joss’s hand slid to the back of Ceder’s neck, his fingers pressing gently into the soft skin. “You’re not just ours tonight, Ceder,” he whispered. “You’re yours too. Finally.”

Ceder nodded, his throat tight as a slow, trembling sigh left him. His entire being felt like it was unraveling and coming together at the same time, an overwhelming sensation of both vulnerability and strength. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t just surviving. He was living. He was himself.

The night passed in a blur. In every possible way, both elk claimed this hybrid. They showed him his heart’s deepest longing, drove him to the very edge of desire, and then—just when he thought he couldn’t take more—they pushed him over the cliff.

As dawn broke, Ceder was draped across the back of the couch, his upper body slumped forward, arms limp by his sides. His muzzle hung open, drool pooling on the carpet beneath him. Every muscle screamed in exhaustion, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. But his mind? It was too clouded, too overwhelmed by the aftermath of the night to function.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel anything beyond the ache in his bones, the rawness stretching through every inch of him. He had been pushed to his limits, tested, broken open in a way that felt almost too much to process. And yet, it had all been in the best possible way.

The air around him was thick with the scent of the elk, mingling with the stronger, heavier musk of rut—the scent of satisfied bucks, their urges finally sated. It clung to Ceder’s skin, soaked into his fur, making him feel impossibly small, yet undeniably marked by the experience. That scent lingered in the room, a reminder of the intensity that had left him wrecked and disoriented.

He didn’t have the strength to shift his position. His body, drained beyond belief, refused to move—too exhausted to do anything but exist in this state of brokenness. His tail twitched faintly, but even that small movement felt like an impossible task. The scent of himself—slick, musky, raw—mixed with the lingering marks left by the elk, filling the air around him.

Joss paused in the doorway, a soft chuckle escaping him as he took in the sight of the completely wrecked mulie. He stepped closer, crouching down to gently cup Ceder’s slick, wet muzzle with a tenderness that sharply contrasted the chaos of the night. His thumb brushed over the fur, offering comfort to the exhausted buck.

“Hey, you okay?” Joss asked, his voice carrying playful concern.

Ceder’s eyes flickered open, barely able to focus on him. He gave a breathless, weak giggle, rolling his eyes to look up at Joss. With the slightest movement of his hand, he offered the best thumbs-up he could manage. It was all he had left—a feeble gesture to express what words could not.

Joss grinned and bent down to kiss Ceder lightly on the forehead. “I’m glad you had a good time. A very good time.” He straightened up, stretching with a soft snicker. “Want me to call Richard? He’s gonna want to know what happened.”

The thought of Richard sent a shudder through Ceder—not from fear, but from a deep, aching need. Richard would understand—Richard would never judge him, never see him as a broken thing. Richard would take him home, bathe him, tend to him, and help him recover from what he had just endured. Ceder could feel the weight of that comfort calling to him, the promise of safety and love that Richard always gave him.

Ceder could barely manage more than a soft giggle, his body giving in completely as he surrendered to the thought of Richard’s care. Joss nodded and left the room to make the call, leaving Ceder to slip into that mindless state of pure, absolute bliss.

Joss gave one last teasing look at Ceder’s dazed, blissed-out form before stepping out to make the call. Ceder lay motionless, only the faint rise and fall of his chest betraying the shallow breaths he was managing. His mind was far away, floating in a haze of sensations, but he could feel the warmth of Richard’s presence drawing closer, the thought of him a distant comfort that lingered in the edges of his consciousness.

About half an hour later, Joss met Richard at the front door, the dishevelled elk looking exhausted.

"Oh, uh...hi!" Joss giggled rubbing the back of his head. "Uh, Richard? I think we broke your deer... sorry..."

Richard blinked, stepping past Joss, before his gaze landed on Ceder’s dishevelled, exhausted form. His eyebrows shot up, almost level with his hairline, and he drew a shaky breath. After a beat, he chuckled softly, though it was laced with concern. "Wow..."

Joss blushed deeply, flattening his ears. "Yeah, sorry about that..."

Ceder couldn't even lift his head, all he could do was look at Josh's boots from here he'd sprawled over the couch. He shivered and nervously gave a single twitch of his tail as his mate walked over and placed his hand on the back of Ceder's neck.

"What did you do last night, you silly, beautiful doe..." Richard murmured.

Carefully, Joss and Richard lifted Ceder up, then Richard gently cradled him close, murmuring soothing words.

“Let’s get you home, love,” Richard said, his voice low and steady, the sound like balm on Ceder’s raw soul. “You’ve been through a lot tonight.”

Richard looked at Joss, who merely weakly smiled and flattened his ears in guilt and embarrassment.

"Thank you," Richard mouthed, as he turned and carried Ceder out.

The car ride home was a blur, but all Ceder could feel was Richard’s presence beside him, his hand gently resting on Ceder’s trembling body as they drove in silence.

Once inside their home, Richard wasted no time. He set Ceder down in the warm, familiar bathroom, running the bathwater and adjusting the temperature just right. Ceder could barely hold himself up, his muscles too weak to even support his own weight. Richard noticed immediately, stepping forward to support him, brushing his damp hair from his face with a gentle hand.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, love,” Richard murmured, his voice thick with concern.

Ceder only nodded, feeling too tired to form words, too tired to even fight against the complete surrender to Richard’s care. The bathwater was warm, soothing, and Richard carefully helped him undress, taking his time to ensure that each movement was gentle, loving. As Ceder lowered himself into the bath, the warmth enveloped him, a stark contrast to the coldness that had once gripped his bones.

Richard knelt beside the tub, running a cloth over Ceder’s tired, aching body, washing away the evidence of the night’s passion with slow, methodical care. He didn’t rush. He never rushed when it came to Ceder. Each touch was an unspoken promise of safety, of love, of healing. Ceder let out a soft, broken sigh as Richard’s hands washed away the scent of the elk, the sweat, the exhaustion.

“Good boy,” Richard whispered, his voice warm as he rinsed the soap from Ceder’s skin. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Ceder let out a weak sigh, unable to form more than a breathless sound in response. He could feel his body trembling, the weight of everything crashing down around him as the bath began to soothe his aches.

Afterward, Richard helped him into a soft robe, supporting him as they moved to the bedroom. The exhaustion in Ceder’s body had only deepened, and the bed was an overwhelming comfort. Richard tucked him in, his strong hands brushing Ceder’s damp hair back from his forehead as he gently placed a kiss on his brow.

“I love you, Ceder,” Richard murmured, his voice rich with affection. "You silly, beautiful, doebuck..."

Ceder could barely hold his eyes open, but his heart swelled with warmth. He wanted to say something, anything, but his body had already slipped into the deep, healing sleep that only Richard’s care could bring. His lover’s arms encircled him as he fell into the most peaceful slumber of his life, the world outside fading away into a quiet, comforting blur.

END