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The police station was an incongruous looking brown brick monstrosity amongst the fashionable Victorian facades. I liked it in a way; it looked like nothing more so than itself, a kind of fortress building that brought to mind the Troubles in Northern Ireland. All it lacked was a guard tower and razor wire.

Of course, that was not how it was supposed to look. This was the new age of policing, community friendly and engaging. I had to smile at that; David had talked about the bad old days when the police from this very station used to raid the bathhouses and bars in Prahran looking for gays to arrest. Now they rode around on bikes clad in revealing lycra sharing lattes with the queers. Progress was a wonderful thing.

Waiting in the reception area I saw my bull come through the armoured doorway and give me a grin. He looked good, as he always seemed to. Though there was a flash of grey in his headfur and a little in the stubble at his chin, he was still one hot hunk of beef with bulges in all the right places.

"Nigel! To what do I owe the pleasure..."

"Got a problem Mike. Need some help."

His expression turned ever so slightly concerned, just a slight turn down of the corners of his muzzle and his big brown eyes misted a little. He nodded, and ushered me through into an interview room.

Sitting at the table, with the tape recorder and the ashtray, I had a sudden chill go down my spine. It was all too familiar to anyone used to watching police procedurals, and the shock of being in one of these nondescript rooms made me contemplate my own behaviour. I was confident he was over sixteen, but still, I would need to be cautious.

"Mike, I had a burglary last night..."

He had his pad out, taking notes rapidly with his eyes narrowed as he worked. I hadn't seen him in action before, and it was illuminating. The big bluff bull was no nonsense on the job. I felt myself liking him even more.

We had met in one of the bars off Commercial Road one night about ten years ago. David was already sick but had not yet reached the long dark tunnel of final collapse, but we had long since stopped being lovers. For most of our relationship we had been like best mates, who shared each others conquests and tragedies with the easy familiarity of brothers and a similar lack of physical intimacy in spite of what the incest fantasies may say. He even introduced me to some of my fuckbuddies.

One night when he was out at a gallery opening with an artist I couldn't stand I had gone trawling for companionship and found the bull. I had no idea he was a cop, until the next morning when he pulled on the uniform as he got ready for work. He told me with a regretful look that he didn't usually tell his pickups what he did, for every one for whom it was a turn on there were five who ran screaming from his flat. But he could see it didn't bother me, and I got a lingering kiss and then an impromptu blow job for good luck before he headed off for his shift.

We had the occasional fuck while David was still alive, but once he died I somehow lost the light inside me that powered my nocturnal activities and we had turned into mates just like I had with David. We caught up occasionally for brunch in Chapel Street and occasionally I accompanied him to the footy when one of his cop mates baled. I hated football with a passion but I never told him. I made sure I had my iPod with me though and listened to Rachmaninoff surreptitiously through an earpiece while everyone around me roared and groaned in turn.

"A burglary...what was taken?"

"My wallet...I've already cancelled all the cards. And...well, David's watch. The Patek Philippe, gold, it's mostly sentimental but it's probably worth ten grand..."

His eyebrows wiggled the way they did when he was thinking and not saying much. I swallowed.

"Anything else?"

"Not that I've found."

"How did they get in? Window, broke in through a door?"

"Ahh...I...um..."

The bull's eyebrows danced now. He looked at me squarely, and very deliberately closed his notebook.

"Nigel, I think you had better be honest with me."

I let out a sigh and dropped my eyes to the desk. My antlers hurt, and I rubbed them as I spoke in soft gasps.

"He didn't break in. He was a homeless guy I think, a colt, well stallion anyway. Living in a skip when I found him, outside my place."

The bull was smiling now, and I found the gaze made me feel warm. I cursed under my breath, knowing this was a bad idea but not knowing any other way. Still, it felt embarrassing as fuck.

"Very...public spirited of you Nigel."

"Look, Mike..."

"Anything else you can tell me about our friendly horse here?"

"He's tall, about six foot ten, chestnut coat, blonde mane, a quarterhorse I think. He would be ahhh about eighteen..."

"Really...and he is living on the streets?"

"I don't know, but I think so yeah..."

"Name?"

"I don't know."

The bull folded his arms across his chest and shook his head.

"Did you fuck him?"

"No! Well...yes...but..."

He let out a snort and his nosering jiggled in unspoken contempt. Still he looked sympathetic, and I hoped to fuck he didn't realise I was about to cry.

"Probably a runaway Nigel. You know that right?"

"Yes."

"David's watch is probably long gone too you realise."

"Yes." It came out as a whisper, and I wiped my eyes to stop the flood I knew was incoming.

"Leave it to me. I'll see if any of my contacts can help. Go grab a coffee, I will give you a ring if anything comes up."

I was almost pathetically grateful, I knew, but I couldn't help myself. So would the stag plead with the hunter if he could.

Taking the bull's suggestion I headed for a café down Malvern road near the station. It was usually busy and usually decent, with a good line of single origin coffee and some useful salads. I realised I was hungry, and I tucked into a decent quinoa salad while ignoring calls from work studiously. I had told them I was sick with the flu, and though I knew that wouldn't stop them calling I knew it would stop them persisting eventually.

After about an hour I got the call.

"You are one seriously lucky fucker Nigel."

He sounded almost disappointed, but I wasn't. I felt like a prisoner getting a reprieve on the scaffold.

Picking me up out front in his car, he briefed me in the few hundred metres we had to drive before we reached Chapel Street.

"Got a hit on your credit card, someone tried to use it at a 7/11 on the corner. Then one of my pawn shop mates came up trumps. You horse friend is in there now trying to knock off the watch for a quick hundred. Stupid shit has no idea what it's worth. We need to get a move on, he is stalling him for me now."

I felt a slight burst of warmth as we parked in a no parking space with absolute impunity and headed for the pawn shop. It felt like I was part of an old school cop show, only missing a surly female partner for the taciturn male lead. I guessed I would have to do; Mike's partner was off today and he was supposed to be catching up on paperwork but this seemed to qualify as a special case.

The shop looked like a relic from another age, with the traditional gold balls hanging above the door, a window full of random merchandise, and a wizened ferret behind the counter. He was engaged in an animated discussion with the colt, who had his back to us thankfully.

"Now now sir, please be patient. I am just verifying the model and age of this particular timepiece so I can confirm the appropriate valuation..."

"Look just hurry it up old man! I haven't got all day..."

"Yes, you do you know."

He froze in mid sentence as my bull laid a hefty mitt on his shoulder. The colt's ears went straight up, then flat, and he turned his head slowly towards a fate he already seemed to know.

Strangely he didn't seem to react too much to the sight of the bull. He did to the sight of me though. His big eyes went bigger still and he seemed to plead at first, then closed his eyes in resignation.

"Funny, knew it would be you mister..."

Handcuffed and sitting in the back of the police car, he sulked. I watched him, a little fascinated, and a little angry. He finally lifted his muzzle and gave me a stare back, one full of resentment.

"He told me I could have it."

Mike laughed at that, I just fumed.

"Really mate, save it for the tape."

"I'm telling you the truth. He told me I could have it; the watch I mean. Oh, I nicked the wallet yeah but..."

"I said save it pony. We are almost there."

We pulled into the garage at the back of fortress cop and Mike pulled him gently from the back seat. Even with the equine's bulk, my mate seemed to be able to move him easily enough, and he was marched into receiving and a frowning desk sergeant badger with a look like curdled milk.

"Nigel, you need to wait in there please."

He indicated a drab waiting area with industrial carpet and uncomfortable seats and a coffee machine that looked like it came out of the sixties. I settled in with a sigh and found an old edition of Good Weekend to peruse.

I had long since become bored and frustrated by the time my bull friend came to talk. He was not looking happy, and I saw him wince a bit as he sucked down bad coffee from the machine. I made a mental note to buy him some good stuff this weekend, along with a bottle of his favourite whisky.

"So?"

"Well, he is maintaining that he was offered the watch. I know it's bullshit, and nobody will believe him. He is admitting the wallet, and otherwise keeping very quiet. He has been charged with theft..."

"Not burglary?"

That drew a smile. "Burglary needs trespassing Nigel, and you did invite him to stay the night...apparently, your cock feels good by the way."

I mumbled and bristled, and my antlers tingled again as they always did when I was embarrassed. It reminded me of playing sport at school and having everyone watch me make an idiot of myself. Today it was an audience of one bull, but it happened to be a bull I cared about which made it worse. He seemed to realise and take pity.

"He will be offered diversion I think, and a caution. He is being processed now. I will need you to sign a statement..."

"I don't...I don't want to press charges."

The bull seemed to swallow then. His eyes bulged, and he coughed.

"Um...what did you say?"

"I said, I don't want to press charges. If I can have my watch back..."

"Nigel, it's not that simple!"

"Yes it is isn't it? I don't want him...I don't want him getting a record."

"But he stole your lover's watch...I may not understand you completely stag, but I know how much David meant to you. After all, ever since he died you have been this...shell..." he was yelling now, and eyes were turned towards us. Curious eyes. I lowered my voice hoping he would follow suit.

"Mike, you don't understand. I didn't have...well, I didn't have a good time when I was young. I did stuff, bad stuff, and ended up in trouble a lot. I know what it's like...trust me on this. I don't want him, well he has enough challenges it seems..."

The bull shook his head again, staring at me as if I was mad, which I probably was. He let out a deep sigh, but finally the grin returned to his muzzle and he stroked my antlers.

"You always were a sentimental shit Nigel."

Sentimental or not, I knew what I needed to do, or thought I did. I also had no real desire for everything that went on between me and the colt to end up in a police report.

The watch was returned to me in a little plastic bag with evidence notes, and my wallet in another. I would have to wait for new cards anyway, but it was nice to have it back. I had gotten it on a holiday in London and I had never felt leather quite like it since.

By the time I got home on the tram it was getting late, and I decided to screw work completely. The encounter with the colt had woken some other parts of myself, the ones that had lain mostly dormant since David died. I had needs dammit. And I almost could remember what that felt like.

Upstairs I carefully preened and prepared. I was no longer young like the first time I met him. A young trainee, I had managed to somehow score a summer internship at his company, with one part bluster and one part charm. He noticed me right away, and I could tell the elegant wolf saw right through me in a nanosecond. He also seemed intrigued by this stag pretending to be something he was not.

The first time we did anything was in his office. He pulled me against his body and kissed me, deep on the muzzle, and I melted in his arms. He told me he knew, all along, but he didn't mind, and he liked my ingenuity. It turned out he liked my body too, and I his. His cock felt like a hot throbbing lance invading my tight tunnel as he bent me over his desk and fucked me into oblivion and tied me so painfully I almost screamed. I came all over his carpet and he kept fucking me until it hurt and then lay over me until it didn't.

Ever since I had known how good it could feel to give in to those urges, and when we no longer did it with eachother, I found plenty of more than adequate substitutes. I kept in shape, with gym and supplements and grooming products, and occasional jogs around the lake. Even in middle age now I was good, but not great. The hot naïve young stag was a world ago and an age away.

None of that would matter though in the back room at 55 Porter street. In the semi dark I could fondle some gymrat twink banking trainee and get him to fuck me thoroughly and exchange business cards and banter afterwards as if nothing at all mattered. It had been too long; thanks to the colt I was back on the horse.

Properly prepared, with lube and condoms and poppers just in case, I headed downstairs ready for an evening. I noticed the plasterer's van still parked outside, and frowned a little. It was a bit late for him to be here...

Investigating, I found the door to the next door's townhouse ajar. I crept inside, as much as a stag could with hooves echoing uncomfortably on hardwood parquetry flooring. There were noises coming from the downstairs area, probably the garage round the back.

I peeked around a slightly open doorway and spied my quarry. He was standing in the garage, his overalls unhitched and down round his knees, boxers down too. The bear had a heft ass, covered in brown fur, and a stubby tail that was twitching rapidly like some manic semaphore. His muscular cheeks flexed, and I saw slight dimples form on the sides, and he let out a groan and a soft roar.

The second figure was on his knees on the other side of the bear, and his hands slid around as I watched to cup those ass cheeks and squeeze. They were very familiar, as was the scent of colt that filled the garage, pungent and musky. He wasn't speaking, of course, as his muzzle was occupied, but the bear was.

"Ohh yeah slut...so good pony...keep going...so close..."

"Ahem..."

I coughed, and the bear turned around slowly, just his head. His eyes widened, and he gave me a good look over, but he didn't stop. Indeed, he seemed to pull the colt harder against his groin. The colt would have had no idea, and he kept on suckling.

"Such a hot slut pony..."

He was looking at me now as he spoke, and I saw him looking me up and down. The heat of his stare went right through me and made my tail twitch in time with his.

His eyes were unfocussed now, and he scrunched up his eyes and his head lay back a little and his ears seemed to shake.

"Ohhh fuck...ohhh fuck...yeah...take it bitch...take it all..."

His orgasmic roar was part pleasure part triumph. I saw his whole body tense and then relax, with colt hands still gripping his ass. He opened his eyes again and gave me a wink, and pulled his cock from the colt's muzzle with a slurp. The equine suddenly saw me there, and rocked back on his knees with eyes wide.

"You want him too mate? Only twenty bucks..."

"No, and you realise he is probably underage..."

"Nah, hot piece of trash like this? He's no problem trust me..."

I hated him I realised, mostly for his casual denigration of the colt, more still for how much he made me feel like a piece of shit for watching. I knew I was hard, my cock poking its way against the fabric of my pants, desperate for some of what the bear had. I knew I had no moral high ground to occupy, but it had never stopped me in the past.

"Does Ryan know you score tricks in his garage?"

I knew my neighbour, an upright Christian barrister with a stick firmly implanted up his ass. We were on civil terms, enough for me to tell him exactly what his builders were up to. The thought of petty revenge felt disturbingly good.

The bear paused finally, his expression changing to anger and contempt at last.

"Like you are any better than me!"

I had to acknowledge the truth of that, but it made no difference. I was on a roll.

"Get out. And don't touch the colt ever again, do you hear me?"

He gripped the colt by the mane, still kneeling, and pushed him towards me with violent strength. The colt yelped, and hit his knee on the concrete. The bear scowled.

"You are welcome to him mate..."

I reached out and took the colt's hand, and pulled him to his hooves. He seemed shaky, and I led him into my own place and up the stairs to the kitchen. He seemed thankful of a glass of water, and I ignored the passive aggressive slam from downstairs as the builder closed the sliding door on his van and the screech of tires as he drove away.

"You did me out of a good bit of money there mate..."

It was strangely nice to see the colt was unrepentant.

"You will get over it."

"Nah, now I will have to find another trick..."

"You wont. You can stay here, as long as you need, and you can have all the food you need. Just please, no more of this, and no more stealing my stuff ok?"

He stood, glass held in mid air, and stared. He blinked a few times as if unsure what he heard, and I was no more sure than he. I couldn't believe I was doing this.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, on all counts. If I find you pulling tricks I will haul your ass to the police station and kick you into a cell myself..."

"I might enjoy it!"

The twinkle was back in his eyes now, and he gave me a big lopsided grin. I ignored his come hither look and concentrated on the SBS news.

The colt was not in a compliant mood though.

He took up a spot next to me on the sofa, yawning extravagantly, and casually draped one arm over my thigh. His hand went exploring, in spite of my attempts to bat it away, and he zeroed in on my groin and an already hardening cock.

"Got to keep in practice somehow..."

He gave me that stupid grin of his and poked his tongue out when I told him point blank to stop. 'No' seemed not to be in this colt's vocabulary. He pulled my zip down easily and slid a hand inside my pants, cupping my rapidly swelling cock through my briefs.

"Nice...I missed this after last night..."

"You were too busy pawning my stuff."

"Mine, I told you, I was supposed to keep it."

"You are one seriously sociopathic cunt colt. You could at least tell me your name."

His fingertips edged under the elastic, and I felt his touch on my leaking tip. I hissed, and my body arched in needful surrender. I had nothing on the French it seemed.

"Andrew, but you can call me Andy."

His muzzle found mine and we were kissing, the feel of rough colt tongue deep in my throat so good. He was eager and unskilled and I loved that just fine. His grip on my cock felt like velvet steel as he stroked all the way to my hilt and back, my balls already churning from his touch.

Soft equine lips found my ears and nibbled.

"I want you to fuck me again mate..."

"No."

He cupped my scrotum and squeezed playfully, but I was firm in spirit and in flesh.

"I said no. I am not fucking you again, I shouldn't have the first time..."

"Awwwwww!"

"I said no..."

Clumsy colt hands went to work on my carefully tailored clothes. He stripped my jacket then my shirt, his lips now feasting on my chest and suckling nipples already tingling from his efforts. He knelt over my groin and rested his hands on my antlers for support, and I could not resist him entirely. I lent forward and pulled his rugby top over his head, and lapped at the taut lines of his chest and belly, tasting colt sweat and finding a river of liquid building already in his navel. His cock was angry, trying to escape his jeans, and I ran my own fingertips over him feeling the flare obvious even through the denim.

"No..."

"Then let me fuck you stag if it makes you feel less guilty."

He had me, and he knew it. I knew it too.

I made him use a condom and lube. He lay back on the sofa, rolling his eyes in impatience as I went to collect them, and I came back to find him with his jeans about his ankles and a massive length of horsecock in his hands. Its pink and black mottled magnificence already gleamed with precum, and he twisted a nipple as he stroked in absolute unabashed self pleasuring and I loved watching it so much I almost came there and then.

Eventually I brought out the little packet and bit down to tear off a corner, removing the functional latex to wide eyed stares from the colt. Rolling it on his length felt amazing, and I lingered over the mundane task long enough to have his hefty sac bouncing in near climax. I was careful not to rub him too much when I applied the lube so I could avoid him shooting off too quick.

Straddling his groin on the sofa, as he had done to me, I let my rump slowly down onto his length. It felt so good and so painful in one, the first agony of his flare, the rasp of his flesh on mine, the deep ache turning to a burn and then a throb as I hilted him with my ass on his thighs and his cock buried full length in my guts. We kissed long and deeply then, and his hand found my length and he jacked me with the same long pleasuring strokes I had seen him use on his own far more massive endowment.

It didn't take long before I felt his breath coming in gasps against my muzzle and I pulled off the kiss to watch him. He had his eyes closed, his face almost peaceful for the first time I could remember. I kept riding his cock, not backing off, and his hand suddenly gripped my cock tight and would not let go.

"AHHHH!"

His ears flicked and suddenly I felt heat inside me, a river of heat that filled me as efficiently as his cock. His chest muscled clenched, nipples, dancing, and when he relaxed it was with eyes still closed and his little pink tongue extended in satisfaction. When he opened them at last, he was grinning all over his face.

"Mate...sorry..."

"Shhhh..."

He was still hard. Oh for the vigor of youth. I rode him harder, and he cupped my furry ass cheeks and let me bounce on his cock and began to flex his thighs to drive up to meet me. I could feel the sofa creaking in outrage but didn't care. I was pretty sure this voided the warranty but there was no better way to do it.

When I came it was magic, and I sprayed a load all over his chest, decorating that lean mass of muscle and chestnut fur with lines of white pleasure. They dripped slowly down his belly as we held after wards, both panting, both saying nothing, and he wrapped his arms around me and I felt strangely safe in ways I could not explain.

In bed he took me one more time, with my hooves over his shoulders, now no longer restrained, and he hammered into my depths for ages while he bit my chest and shoulder and neck and whinnied into my ears then nibbled their tips and ordered me to cum in a husky adolescent voice that made my spine tingle. I could not disobey, and I came with his body crushing mine and my cock rubbing on his belly already slick from my first orgasm. His own climax followed swiftly and he rested with me under him and his arms around my waist and his muzzle beside my ear.

I ordered pizza, like a teenager again, and sent him down to collect it. He came back grinning from ear to ear.

"Hot fucker, tiger...he wanted me too, I could tell."

"Do you ever think of anything apart from sex?"

"Food?"

He said this while shovelling half the pizza into his muzzle. We drifted into an easy embrace with my head on his chest, and I wanted to sleep, but there were things I had to know first.

"How old are you Andy?"

"Sixteen."

I let out the sigh I hadn't realised I had been holding in. Not good, but not fatal. At least he was legal.

"What happened to you?"

He tensed then, and seemed to wait. Eventually when he spoke it was halting, and laced with pain.

"My dad kicked me out."

"For being gay?"

"Yeah...you could say that."

"How did he find out?"

He laughed a bit, a bitter laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"I was busted sucking a guy off in the public toilets in the reserve near our place. Cops pulled me home and gave dad a right talking to for allowing me to be such a pervert. The sergeant was a mate of his, so he did him a favour or so he said. Wouldn't charge me, just leave me to dad to sort out. He beat the shit out of me and threw me out that night, told me if I ever came back he would kill me."

He wrapped his arms around me and shuddered. I was shuddering too in sympathy, and I let him nuzzle against my neck and cuddle my smaller body to his. Even gangly and young he was a massive unit.

Speaking of massive units, I felt one nudging my tail from the underside, and then sliding up and down my crack.

"No."

"Awwwwww..."

"No...I'm already too sore..."

He found an ingenious solution anyway, hotdogging his length between my cheeks until I felt a torrent of colt seed splashing my spine. He was snoring in minutes, and in spite of the sticky wet feeling I realised I had not felt this content in ages. I drifted off too, dreaming of a wolf with piercing blue eyes and a mischievous smile.

When I woke it was to find the bed empty again, and I rolled over grumbling at the empty feeling. This was becoming a habit it seemed. I was about to take a shower when the doorbell rang.

Trotting downstairs I expected to find the colt. Instead I found a bull, in casual clothes, and looking slightly disgruntled. He sniffed the air, his bovine nostrils flared wide, and his expression hardened a couple of notches.

"Please tell me you didn't..."

"It's no business of yours!"

"It is you know. You made it mine when you came to my station, if you remember."

I had to admit he was right. I stood to one side and let him in, and followed him up to the kitchen. Remembering the shit awful coffee in the police station I decided to make him something good, and went to the cupboard for a packet of my best Grinder's blend and a genuine Italian espresso pot from Minimax.

He sat at the kitchen table, eyeing me up like I was a maniac, and ignored the Bircher muesli I laid in front of him. My bull was not to be deflected it seems.

"Your colt is a mysterious one."

"I'm sure Mike..."

"He gave a name and address, before we were forced to drop the charges."

I ignored his accusing stare, whistling industriously as I put the coffee pot on the stove.

"Andrew McNaughton. No records in the database under that name, so I'm suspicious its his real one. He had no ID on him."

"Hmmm..."

"The address he gave in Ringwood was fake. It's a shop, a copy centre to be precise."

"Seems he put one over you nicely Mike."

"Oh no he didn't Nigel. But I wish I could say the same about you."

His angry stare was accusing, and also sad. I matched his with defiance.

"You cant force me to do anything Mike..."

"No, I cant. And you cant force me to do anything either. I have his fingerprints, and I'm going to do some digging on our friend. Just because I'm looking out for you mind. Someone has to."

We ate in silence, and I sipped the coffee. He didn't touch his.

"You know Nigel, I cant take the good stuff. Station coffee is undrinkable if I get anything decent."

He dropped it in the sink with a sigh as he stood up to leave. I stood up too, and found myself not wanting him to go.

"Mike...please..."

He gave me a kiss on the muzzle, and a rub on my antlers. Then he turned to leave.

"Tread carefully Nigel. You know nothing about our young friend. Nothing at all."

I didn't tell him that I did know some things. He would merely tell me I was being spun a line if I did. But somehow I knew, the colt had told me the truth, and like the bull, I wanted to dig too. If I found his parents, I was going to do something serious, and though the bull might not like it, I would happily use his detective skills to find them. And then...

Well, first to find the colt again, and tell him to stop leaving in the morning. Morning snuggles were the best of all, and I hadn't had any for more than eight years. There was a serious backlog to be got through.