FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Midwinter Wish

by Declan Xavier

A/N: So excited to be back writing, and so excited that I got this out before Christmas proper. This story has been in my head for the better part of three years. If you like this and want to see more of it, leave a comment and a rating. As always, check the tags to make sure you're in the right place.

The door to the alchemist's hut opened, letting in a blast of chill winter wind, a few snowflakes, and the alchemist himself. Reinard closed the door behind him swiftly, rubbing his hands against his biceps while shuffling towards the fire in the hearth. His apprentice peeked his head around the corner into the main room, and Reinard snorted when he caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye. Abandoning his quest for warmth, he went to the shelves that held a variety of liquids and snagged one.

Pushing past his timid apprentice, Reinard entered the kitchen and beckoned for the otter to follow him. His apprentice, Brandon, complied without making a sound. In the handful of months under Reinard's tutelage, he had learned that when the alchemist was upset, silence was preferred, and after what he saw this morning, the alchemist was as mad as Brandon had ever seen him.

Entering the kitchen, Reinard took a seat at the small dining table and gestured for Brandon to take the other. Again, the apprentice meekly obeyed, mentally preparing himself for the verbal tongue-lashing he was going to receive, and praying silently that the lecture was all he was going to receive.

"Scott has been returned safely," Reinard started. "He doesn't remember much, which I explained was a side effect of the potions he was given. His parents are just relieved that he has been returned to them, though no doubt the father is at least somewhat irritated. Now, I want you to drink this."

Reinard slid the bottle across the wooden table, and Brandon, who had been keeping his hands folded in his lap, barely caught it before it tumbled off the side. The bottle was, like a lot of the others, simply made and indistinct from the others. The liquid within was an opalescent and slightly viscous potion, a swirling cloud of white, silver, and gray. Considering his recent misadventures, the appearance was slightly suspect.

"What is it?" Brandon asked.

"It isn't poison," Reinard replied, leaning forward. "Drink it, all of it, and then go clean your room. Once you're done with that, come back here and we'll talk about what happened. I won't decide what to do with you until then."

Brandon still wasn't thrilled at the prospect of drinking a concoction, the origin and effects of which were unknown, but he didn't seem like he had much choice. He popped the cork with his thumb, upending the bottle and letting the liquid inside slosh onto his tongue. Despite its viscous appearance, it flowed quickly, and Brandon had soon swallowed the contents.

The potion was sweet, almost sickeningly so, and it coated Brandon's tongue and cheeks with a kind of film. It made for a very unpleasant drink, and Brandon was strongly considering getting a cup of water in order to wash it out. If it wasn't under his master's orders, he would have. Instead, he stood up, careful to mark any changes he noticed in movement and thought patterns, and went back to his room.

Normally tide, the apprentice's room had become a bit disheveled. While his master was out at the city's midwinter festival, taking the opportunity to collect rare ingredients, hear rumors of diseases going on in other parts of the world, and generally relax, Brandon was stuck in this backwater village, serving the backwater villagers their cures and tonics. While nothing terribly exciting had happened the first few days, there was enough to keep himself busy that Brandon hadn't kept up on his chores.

The room still smelled of them and their activities. Brandon's cheeks began to tingle and his jaw ache at the sheer thought of what had occurred just the night before. He started gathering his discarded clothing into the large wicker basket, carefully inspecting the garments that he wore the night before. They didn't seem to be in any terrible condition, nor were they stained with anything he wasn't willing to let the village laundress see. He breathed a small sigh of relief as he dropped the clothing into the basket with the others.

His bedclothes were not so lucky. A couple of small, wet patches lingered, and the smell coming off them only made the memories more potent. These could be explained away; after all, Brandon was a young otter of nineteen years, these kinds of things were to be expected. Still, the residual embarrassment of this morning colored everything. He could almost feel the eyes of every other villager. It felt like he was wearing a cloak that described in lurid detail his darkest fears and insecurities.

After about half an hour, Brandon's room was as tidy as it had ever been. His jaw ache and general body soreness had gone away, but the tingling his mouth hadn't abated. He pondered whether it was a side effect of the potion as he made his way back to the kitchen.

Reinard stood at the stove, a pot of porridge bubbling away as he stirred it. His ears perked up and he glanced over as Brandon pulled out the chair, scrapping it against the wooden floor. With a grunt, Reinard ladled himself a bowl of the breakfast mush and joined his apprentice at the table.

"How do you feel?"

Brandon shrugged. "Embarrassed as hell, a little sore, my mouth is tingling in a weird way, and worried that I'm about to be exiled." The otter's eyes widened at hearing his own words. He hadn't meant to be so blatant about it all, but it did feel better being out in the open.

"What's your name?"

"Br-Brandon Anderson," the apprentice replied, wondering why he was asking.

"And why are you here?"

Brandon narrowed his eyes. His master knew the answer, and just wanted to torture him. Rather than get mad and lose what little relationship he had with the alchemist at the moment, he answered. "My parent shipped me out here when they discovered I was inviting the male servants up to my room at night. Rather than risk a scandal, they sent me out here where no one would have heard of my family to study alchemy, a bid that they probably thought would either result in my execution when my propensity was discovered, or an occupation that would make me smell so horrendous and be so busy I wouldn't have time to be with other males."

Reinard took the first spoonful of porridge into his mouth, unfazed by the otter's little rant. He winced, wishing he had let the food cool a bit. "Last question, do you find me attractive?"

Brandon's brain screeched to a halt. This was a trap. He had no idea what the alchemist was like. Obviously he was OK with the otter being gay and under his roof, but this might cross a line. If the master was going to kick him out, then he had plenty of reason to do so as it stood, he didn't need to embarrass Brandon any further.

Brandon looked at Reinard, slowly trying to make up his mind about...well, about a lot of things, about whether he was going to answer and what his answer was going to be. As his brain engaged again slowly, his answer settled onto his tongue.

"About five or ten years ago, maybe could have done. You've got a bit too much gray in your muzzle and that reminds me of my dad, who I didn't find appealing. You weren't exactly been nice to me the first few weeks I was here, and that soured me a little bit to you. I like males well enough, but my first thought when I look at you is not that I want to get in your bed, or have any relationship with you besides master and apprentice."

And there it was. If that was going to get him punished, at least he was honest about it.

Reinard smiled. "Good, seems it's working. What I gave you was a truth serum, experimental, but effective. Now, you're going to tell me how you ended up in the situation I caught you in this morning. You're going to answer any questions I may have. If you don't answer me, or I feel you're trying to dodge, you're going to be in trouble, do you understand?"

Brandon nodded, realizing now when he was OK with being so blatant and honest.

Reinard lifted the tin spoon to his muzzle, blowing gently. "Begin."

~@~@~@

If Brandon thought that the village was boring before, it was even worse than he could have ever imagined. The winter had set in, and outdoor activities had ceased if they weren't necessary for survival. A few of the families in town were preparing for the midwinter festival, but unlike the parties in the city, these were small, intimate affairs. The alchemist might have, as a courtesy, been invited into the home of one of the people he had helped throughout the year, but Reinard was heading into the city to pick up rare ingredients, gather news of diseases in other lands, and generally relax. His apprentice was being left behind to manage things in his absence, and his apprentice was too new in the eyes of the villagers to be accepted into their homes.

It was because of this that Brandon found himself in his new home, alone, as the holidays neared. He wondered at times, often bitterly, how his family would explain his absence, if they even would. Their closest friends would probably be tactful enough not to bring up the male's absence at all. And so it was maintaining the stock of ointments, unguents, potions and tinctures which would be used to keep the village healthy and happy throughout the winter and into the next year.

The otter's only company during his master's absence had been the local woodcutter, a gruff and thoroughly unpleasant male who spoke little as he made the daily deliveries of wood to keep the fires going. Out of all the people in the village, the woodcutter seemed to have the biggest chip on his shoulder regarding Brandon. Perhaps it was because Brandon could only do so much to hide his nature, though what he was called out for he described as being from the city. In the eyes of these simple people, it was hard to say which would be the bigger sin - to be gay or to be urbane.

Still, the apprentice was fulfilling an important duty in his master's absence, and his master had paid up through the year so the wood kept coming. On the third day of the deliveries; however, it was not the woodcutter who appeared, but rather his son, Scott.

Unlike his father, Scott was a likable young male. He was interested in talking with Brandon about things, alchemy, medicine, and life in the city. More than that, it was interesting. He was able to talk intelligently about the different types of wood, their uses, as well as other things he had seen while out cutting wood with his father. Nearing adulthood, Scott had even confided in the alchemist's apprentice during the autumn months that he wasn't sure he was interested in settling down with the young female that his parents had insisted his marry.

While he had never gotten as far as getting Scott to admit that he had the same tendencies as Brandon, there was some signs that the apprentice had picked up. Admittedly, those may have been desperation in finding a kindred spirit out here in the middle of nowhere. Still, it was enough to keep the embers of hope alive in Brandon's chest, though practicality as seemed to win out. The bear was talkative, friendly, and not sore on the eyes.

Oftentimes he could be seen without a shirt on, carrying cords of lumber to various destinations when he wasn't working the saw with his brothers and his father's apprentices. His physically laborious job had given him a fine physique to be admired, and the hazardous nature had meant that he had been in and out of the healer's hut for various situations. Brandon had time, even in his brief stint as an apprentice, to get to know Scott's body than anyone else, though still not as close as he would like.

So the appearance of Scott at his door was a welcome holiday treat. Brandon's attitude immediately became more bright and cheery at seeing the bear at the door, shouting to gain entry. Brandon set down his book and practically sprinted to open the door, letting Scott inside. The bear crossed the room and set the new cord of wood next to the remnants of the previous day's delivery.

"Hello, Brandon," he said brightly as he passed, as anxious as he was to get rid of his load as Brandon was to allow him entrance

"Hail, Scott," Brandon said, closing the door and following close behind his guest. He helped to put the old wood on top of the new so that it would be used first. This also had the added benefit of allowing Brandon to get close enough to inspect Scott's body.

The winter months had not damaged his physique too terribly at all, even though bears tended to gain weight in a throwback to their hibernation days. It did, however, help to fill out his fur, and Brandon resisted the urge to run his fingers across it. There was little enough to be seen, his torso covered by a thick woolen shirt to ward off the winter's chill.

"Must be nice to have the old codger out of the hut for a while, eh?"

Had it been anyone else, he wouldn't have risen to the bait. Gossip was just about the only pastime in this little backwater burg. If it had been anyone else. "Yeah, a bit. I don't get yelled at nearly as often. It is lonely though."

Scott made a noise that sounded like a disappointed sigh, or perhaps it was a small 'aw' of sympathy. Perhaps it was just the last of the physical exertion getting the better of him. Brandon didn't like feeling pitied, so he quickly tried to dodge. "So, looking forward to the holiday?"

Scott shrugged his powerful shoulders. "A little. It doesn't have the same magic as it did when I was a child, you know? Besides, it means I have to spend some time with Lucy and her family, and I don't really look forward to it."

Brandon hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Lucy, Scott's bride-to-be, but Scott had never spoken about her in glowing terms. It seemed odd, usually the male should have the say in who he married, and maybe they did. If Scott's interest didn't extend to females, perhaps his family had just chosen one out of desperation. A part of Brandon felt sorry for Lucy, not knowing quite what she was getting herself into, even more so than other brides.

The conversation having stalled, Scott started to rise, but then let out a groan of pain and put his hand to his lower back. Brandon didn't need to be keen on spying symptoms to know something was wrong, taking the chance to move the bear's hand away from the small of his back just about his tail. "You're hurt?"

"Oh, a little," Scott said, brushing it off and moving Brandon's hand. "I slipped on some ice on the way up here and think I twisted something."

Brandon pursed his lips. "Oh, that won't do. Have a seat real quick, I'll make you a hot cloth."

"No, I have to get back."

"Nonsense," Brandon interjected, guiding the taller male over to the stools. "You're no use to anyone if you can't get out of bed tomorrow morning, and having to get your father to carry you up here is only going to make it worse. We put an end to this now and get you right as rain."

Scott didn't protest any longer, setting his bulk down on the stool and smiling and the care that Brandon was providing. Brandon shot into the kitchen where the clean cloths were stored, ready to be dunked in boiling water for a variety of needs. For this ailment, merely hot water would do, but it would take a little while for the stove to heat the small pot enough.

"Scott, if the pain is too great, you can always grab a green bottle from the second shelf," Brandon called out. "They're general pain relievers, easy enough to make and we've got plenty." He could feel his mouth moving faster than his brain, and he blushed a little bit. He needed to be better, be a more confident healer, and not let something like his attraction to a patient get him flustered.

In short enough order, he had a hot cloth in his hands, wringing out the excess moisture back into the pot. Brandon padded into the main room, looking at his patient, who was holding an empty brown bottle and wiping his muzzle on the back of his sleeve. The apprentice blinked when he spied the empty bottle in the bear's mitt. "Uh, I said green didn't I?"

Scott looked at the bottle in his hand, then back at otter with slightly wide eyes. "You did, is this not green?" he asked, holding out the brown bottle.

Brandon returned the shocked look. Gods above, the bear was color-blind. He walked over to the shelves and grabbed the rolled piece of paper which listed what each potion was. "I said the second shelf..." he muttered, realizing his second mistake. Second from the bottom, or second from the top? He could have slapped himself in the forehead, but he had to maintain his composure.

"So, what I just drank, it won't kill me, will it?"

Brandon ran a finger down the listing of bottles, settling on what was in the brown bottle.Love potion, experimental, page 24. Brandon put the listing back and headed over to his master's inventory book, flipping open to the desired page. "No, of course not, we don't keep stuff like that lying around. Worst case scenario, well...never mind, it won't kill you."

Love potion - meant to suppress inhibitions and enhance feelings of amorousness in the subject. Will not implant amorous feelings that are not already present, will not interfere with free will. Best used for: nervous honeymooners, couples' therapy.

The otter was simultaneously relieved and disappointed. He closed the book, looking up at the bear. "Good news, you just drank a mild relaxer, which actually might be good with your tweaked back. Take this hot compress and put it on the sore area until it becomes cold, and then you should be able to make it home. If the pain is worse tomorrow, come back and see me."

Scott breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and it seemed like his entire frame was going to collapse. "You had me scared for a minute there, Brandon."

Brandon blinked. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to," he said as he rolled up the back of the bear's shirt. He puts the hot cloth against the small of that broad, muscular back. "Let me know if you feel any strangeness, OK? I don't want to find you passed out in the snow."

The rest of their time together passed without anything exciting. Banal pleasantries and gentle reassurances were shared. Scott's behavior or attitude didn't change, which didn't do much to help Brandon's mood. Whatever he thought may have been there apparently wasn't. The potion would ignite a fire, but wouldn't introduce a spark. After about half an hour, the bear stood up, said his goodbyes, thanked Brandon for the aid and departed. There was a certain finality in that door getting shut, as Brandon felt his hopes of finding someone to spend his youth with getting shut out as well.

~@~@~@

"So that's the story? He accidentally dosed himself due to vague instructions and his own color-blindness?"

Brandon nodded. It sounded bad, but the alternative was that he himself had given Scott a love potion under the guise of it providing pain relief. Reinard rose from his seat without saying anything else. The large bear walked into the main chamber, and Brandon heard the clinking of the glass bottles and the rustling of the papers.

Brandon sat, hands folded in his lap. What would happen if he got kicked out? He couldn't go home, at least not for long. He didn't love it here, but the work was OK, and despite what he had said earlier about Reinard, he had grown accustomed to the alchemist's personality. Reinard knew, of course, and he had accepted Brandon where Brandon's own father had rejected him. That counted for something.

Reinard soon returned, settling himself back down in his chair and taking another spoonful of porridge into his mouth, chew-sucking the meal down before finally swallowing. The silence between them was brief, but in his anxiety, Brandon felt like it last for minutes. Finally, Reinard regarded his apprentice.

"You left a patient with vague instructions, and look what happened. If that had been something more problematic, you would have turned a bad situation worse. I trust that this will teach you why we don't let the patients touch the medicine shelves, ever, and the importance of clear instructions when dealing with other people."

Brandon nodded, looking down at his trembling hands. He fought back the tears, and he could almost hear Reinard's next words about being dismissed from his apprenticeship.

"Only time will tell," Reinard said. "I trust that next time you deal with any patient, especially Scott, you'll be more careful."

The otter looked up in surprise. "You mean you're keeping me on as an apprentice?"

Reinard took another slow, thoughtful spoonful. He's dragging this out, Brandon thought. He's torturing me.

"Of course. I arrived to the same number of villagers I left, my hut's still got its roof, and my priciest ingredients and mixtures are still right where I remember them. I've had damn worse apprentices in the past, despite my initial misgivings about you."

Brandon blinked, mind reeling as he tried to unpack and untangle the insults from the compliments. The important part was that he would be remaining under his master's apprenticeship. He felt like he could float off into the sky, the weight off of his chest was so great.

Instead, he simply bowed his head low, and rose from the table. A sharp bark from Reinard stopped him, however.

"You're not done here."

"But, but you have your answer!"

"No, I asked how you ended up in the predicament I saw you in this morning. Where your story left off was Scott walking out the door."

Brandon blushed, hard. He was going to make him tell the _whole_story. His pleas stopped in his throat. This is what the master wanted, and after the mercy he had already been shown, he knew he was too far in debt to beg for me. Returning to his seat, Brandon took a deep breath.

"So...that evening."

~@~@~@

Brandon spent the rest of the day sulking. It was easy to do, since after hanging up the hot cloth and taking the empty bottle back to the kitchen area to be cleaned for re-use, there wasn't much for him to do. No one else came by needing any treatments, there were no lessons to be done except for independent study. He had the whole day to himself, to wallow in his misery. He did look up the ingredients necessary to make the love potion, just to see how much more trouble he might be in when his master arrived back.

As he scanned the entry regarding the love potion again and again, a little part of his brain wondered if perhaps there was a problem with the mixture. Like the dying embers in a December hearth, a little hope still burned. Perhaps the potion was old, or poorly mixed, or the ratios were off. Perhaps Scott had merely taken a dose of something that wouldn't have worked - not because he didn't have any attraction to Brandon - but because there was something off about the potion itself.

He kept giving glances to the other bottles that lined the shelves, a few of them in the same colored bottle as Scott had accidentally snagged. What would happen if I were to drink one? Brandon thought, then shook that thought right out of his head. That would be a terrible idea. If it didn't work, it would bring the hope back into a raging fire, and he would be right in the same place he was yesterday: lusting after the company of someone who, even if he wanted to, couldn't reciprocate.

And that was the lesser of the two evils. If it worked, if it truly worked, it would put Brandon in a state of lowered inhibitions and heightened desires. Horrible scenes played out in his mind's eyes of him marching down to the village and finding Scott, kissing him hard in public or even doing something so brash as declare his love for him. Without Reinard's protection, and with such a flagrant display, the villagers would surely respond, and Scott himself might be horrified by the whole display.

Besides, even if Brandon's potion worked, it wouldn't confirm whether or not Scott's potion did. No answers, and potentially only more heartache. Brandon cast the idea aside, and went right back to wallowing. As the sun dipped low, which it did early in the midwinter time, Brandon decided to take his moping back to his bedroom.

His quarters were a small section that, before his arrival, had probably been a storeroom. There wasn't much except a straw mattress, a small table that served as a dining area and desk, and a few shelves with hooks that served as his closet.

The otter undid the ties to his alchemist's apron, hanging it up on a hook. He shivered a bit in the cold, grabbing a thick wool robe that he had taken from his home and wrapping it around his body. He felt a pang of jealousy for bears like Reinard and Scott. He didn't gain bulk in the winter to ward off the chill, his body more adept at repelling water than winter.

Finding himself comparing his own physique to that of his master's and his crush's, he took note of how his master had gained the bulk mostly in his gut, whereas Scott had, perhaps do to his job, turned it into a broader sort of muscle. Just thinking about Scott's biceps, flexing as he carried that cord of wood into the hut, and the carved and muscular back that he had attended to made Brandon's body react.

It was a long and lonely winter. Hell, it was a long and lonely apprenticeship that he had. Brandon opened the robe that he had just dressed himself in, letting his hand slip down the front of his loose trousers. They had been made that way so that, should anything untoward spill on them, he could hastily remove them before the chemical ate through the weave and onto his skin. They had the added benefit of hiding any unintentional (or intentional) erections that the otter may get in the line of duty.

Brandon's hand closed around his swelling sheath, teasing it a bit as he felt his heat start to rise. He was alone in the hut, no real need to be modest, but a lifetime of hiding this sort of thing didn't go away in an instant. Besides, someone could come to the door with an emergency, or his master could pick that moment to return.

Either way, in the privacy and the darkness of his own bedroom, Brandon decided to kick off his own midwinter festival celebration. He moaned a bit, not bothering with the restraint he normally would have to use if the master was still in attendance. It was too cold to disrobe completely, unless he wanted to climb under the woven blankets, though a second consideration made that seem better. He had taken no more than two steps in that direction when a knock came at the door.

Cursing himself, he closed his robe and started to move uncomfortably towards the front. The fire was still burning somewhat, lower now since there was no brewing to be done or people to heat up in the front room. The dimmed light made everything that stood in the world outside the hut nothing but darkness. Brandon found himself praying that it wasn't a patient, or even worse, Scott's father or fiance looking to air a grievance with him.

Opening the door, Brandon blinked in surprise as the firelight hit the form of the bear that had left the hut earlier that day. "Scott, what's the matter?"

Without a word, Scott pushed his way into the hut, closing the door behind him. He was breathing heavily, his eyes darting around like he was afraid. Brandon reached up to the bear's shoulder, trying to comfort and calm him to get an idea of what the problem was. Without warning, Scott grabbed Brandon's hand, his eyes focusing on the tip of the otter's nose.

"Brandon, something's wrong, something doesn't feel right."

"O-oh-okay," Brandon stammered, unable to wrench his wrist free of the woodcutter's son's grip. "It might just be a reaction to the thing you drank this morning. I'm sure we can-"

"What was it that I drank?"

Brandon swallowed the lump of fear that was rising in his throat. "A love potion, you drank a love potion."

Scott let go of Brandon's wrist. "So that's why I've been feeling this way all day? That's why I can't get you out of my head, why I keep wondering what you look like under all those damn clothes?"

Brandon blinked, blushing a little with what little blood he had that wasn't occupied elsewhere, though the fear and the surprise had done enough to slowly wilt his erection. "Um...well, not quite. See, the love potion I gave it...it doesn't hypnotize you. It just, well, it helps those feelings along if they already exist. It's for couples that are having trouble. If a potion could hypnotize someone, it'd be very illegal and immoral."

It was Scott's turn to blush as he started towards the fire, warming up his hands. It was in that light that Brandon noticed that he didn't have a cloak or gloves on. He was still wearing the same clothes that he had been earlier, though now they were stained with the sweat of a day's work.

"I don't know what to say, Brandon," Scott said, not looking at the apprentice but speaking to the fire. "I'm so embarrassed right now."

Brandon joined Scott by the fire, taking off his robe and draping it around the bear's shoulders. "Scott, listen, I don't want to cause trouble. I know that you're engaged to be married, and, honestly, I didn't mean for you to drink that stuff."

"I know, it's my own fault. I guess, I guess I have to be honest. I've had feelings for you for awhile, but I didn't know what they were. I had never felt that way about anyone before, male or female. You are...different, you're smart and you're-well you're not like the others around here."

"Scott, let me see what I can do about brewing you an antidote." He started to walk back to his master's tome, only to feel his wrist get grabbed again. This time, however, Scott twisted him around easily and mashed his muzzle into Brandon's. Brandon alternated between fighting it and falling into it - it being the only thing he wanted but also knowing the dangers involved.

When the kiss finally broke after what felt like hours, Scott looked down at the smaller otter. "No, please. There may be an antidote for the potion, but not for my feelings. I...I may never get another chance to do this, or say this, or be with you like this. Please, just for now, just for tonight, help me deal with more than just the symptoms."

Brandon looked up. "Have you ever...been with another person before?"

Scott nodded. "Once, but she was a female and it was weird and awkward."

Brandon smiled softly. "I can't guarantee your first time with a male won't also be weird and awkward, but there's only one way to find out."

It was Brandon's turn to grab Scott's wrist, guiding him back to the bedroom. Between the kiss and the rough embrace and the feeling of finally having the object of his desire at his finger tips, Brandon was practically bubbling. The room was dark, and in the darkness, the apprentice found the woodcutter's son's chest, rubbing it slightly.

"Take off your clothes, all of them. No need to be shy or give me a show, I can't see anything anyway. Throw them against the wall, and then lie down on the bed, face-up."

The ruffling of cloth in the darkness behind him told Brandon that Scott was complying. Meanwhile, Brandon was making short work of his own clothing. His loose-fitting tunic went up and over his head, getting pulled inside-out at the haste, but he didn't care. The cold air blasted his bare torso, causing him to shiver and his nipples to become erect. The woodcutter's bulkier winter shirt made a louder sound as it struck the wall. This was followed by two thumps as Scott kicked off his winter boots. Brandon slid out of his slippers.

Brandon had little difficulty in removing his trousers, kicking them over to join the growing pile of discarded garments. He turned to face his partner, his eyes having adjusted to the low light of the pale moon creeping into his window. Scott was still just a large shadow in the darkness, his brown fur becoming black in the night. He saw as the silhouette of Scott bent over to remove his own pants.

Bereft of sight, Brandon's other senses sharpened slightly. The first thing he noticed was the smell of his own and the other male's arousal, entering his nostrils and his lungs and filling his chest, warming him from the inside. As the shadow moved past him, Brandon took the opportunity to glance downwards, wishing that he had some form of light to bear witness to the thing he had spent so many nights thinking and fantasizing about. He reached out, his hand brushing the fur of Scott's hip, and causing the larger bear to jump in surprise.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," Brandon said as he watched the shape of Scott settle into the mattress. Brandon climbed into the bed with him, thankful that the mattress was big enough to fit them both, if not all that comfortably.

Considering that this was his first time with another male, and Scott's overall shyness, Brandon expected to have to move his hands away from his groin, hiding his shame from the otter. Instead, he found that Scott was laying with his arms calmly at his sides, his body open to all. It must have been the inhibition suppressing power of the love potion, but whatever the reason, Brandon was once again sorely missing any sort of light source.

Rather than fixating on that, though, Brandon reached down and gently felt down Scott's hips until he brushed his fingers across the bear's penis. In the chill of his room, the growing erection felt like he was gripping onto a rod straight from the fire. Beneath him, Scott shifted and moaned at the otter's touch. As Brandon got a better grip, he swung his leg over and straddled the taller morph's stomach, twisting his wrist behind him to maintain his hold on the bear's dick.

"Reach down by the bedside, there should be a bottle of oil that'll help us."

Scott did as he was instructed, his chest heaving with his heavy breaths, retrieving the bottle of oil that Brandon used as a masturbation aid, but that would serve a different purpose this night. Getting the bottle from his partner, Brandon slid his body down Scott's, brushing the tip of the bear's erection against one of his bare cheeks.

Putting a bit of oil in the palm of his hands, Brandon rubbed them together vigorously to both warm and spread the lubrication. He once more reached out and grabbed onto the thing he had desired for a long time. Scott shivered at the touch.

"Mmm, that's cold."

"Won't be for long," Brandon assured him, moving his hands up and down that length, spreading the oil and warming it with friction. It was also his opportunity, in the darkness, to try and judge the size of what he was about to enjoy. Unlike Scott, he had been with other males, but it had been some time. His own arousal twitched at the ideas racing through his mind.

He had to curb them though. Scott's first time was going to be a trial enough, and Brandon learned from experience that a strong physique didn't always translate into staying power in the bedroom. Instead, he focused on the task that was literally at hand. His strokes were slow and sensuous, and even then he felt that the bear was better endowed that others, certainly better than Scott himself. It felt as though it was a good seven inches long, and plenty thick. Brandon thanked himself for secreting away some of the oil that his master used in his work.

After a few minutes of gentle caresses, in which the room was filled with the heavy panting of the guest, the rich and heady smell of the bear's musk, and the wet pops and squeaks of the oil as it was manipulated over every inch of Scott's meaty member, Brandon felt another gel on the tips of his fingers. He smiled to himself, rolling his left hand over the leaking tip of Scott's erection, smearing his natural lubrication and mixing it with the oil. Continuing the masturbation with his right hand, Brandon reached behind himself, lifting his thick tail and smearing the oil and precum mixture around his ring. It wasn't the best position for him to get it in as deep as he would have wanted, but he would manage.

Satisfied with the work done so far, Brandon rose up, scooting back up Scott's thighs until he was in position. "Are you ready?" he asked the shadowed figure on his bed.

"Stars above, yes," Scott replied between pants.

That was all the encouragement Brandon needed. Lifting his tail once more, Brandon reached back and held onto Scott's erection as he slowly lowered himself down. The hot tip of the bear's slickened cock flexed as it touched the slightly lubed ringpiece of the apprentice, but it wasn't until Brandon lowered himself a little more that they both gasped in unison.

Scott had never felt anything like it, watching slowly as the darkness-clad otter lowered himself onto his cock, forming a very erotic silhouette. The warm tunnel gripped his shaft tightly, even tighter and hotter than the handjob he had been getting earlier in preparation for this moment. He reached up, gripping the otter's thighs.

Brandon halted his progress, wiggling a bit as he got accustomed to the feeling of having the pulsing length in his tunnel. Despite the grip on his thighs, Brandon made no indication that he was going to stop or slow down. The otter started rising again, feeling his ring grip and tug at the pillar inside as it slid out, despite the lubrication.

With little hesitation, the otter picked up his speed and the depths of his plunges, panting on each downward motion as Scott's cock delved deeper into his hole, spreading him wider and filling him more. Scott grunted to the rhythm of being ridden, his shaft ached with need as it found a home deeper in the apprentice's tailhole. He could feel more liquid seeping out of the tip, not ignorant of what he was doing but in a new world of pleasure.

The room became filled with the wet, sloppy squelches as the bear meat was fed into the otter's insides. It wasn't long before Scott felt something hot slap against the area of his stomach just under his navel. With wide eyes, he realized Brandon had taken him down to the hilt, and it was the other male's own erection that was hitting his stomach. The thought of this only increased the arousal, and what was already intense became ecstatic.

Scott let out a yelp of pain as he felt the bear's grip on his thighs tighten suddenly. That feeling was overshadowed, however, by the feeling of the twitching member inside him suddenly unleashing a hot torrent of seed. He pushed himself as far down on the shaft as he could, he tail base brushing against the balls that were currently working to fill him.

The cold of the midwinter night was driven off by the hot feeling growing inside him, and despite his efforts, he could feel a little slip out and down Scott's scrotum. The smell of Scott's discharge hit Brandon's nostrils, making his breath even harder.

"S-sorry about that," Scott whispered underneath him. "It just felt so good."

Brandon blushed at the compliment, slowly lifting himself off the piece of meat even as it began to soften. "No problem, probably just a side effect of the potion," Brandon reassured him, reaching down by the bedside where the oil had been stashed and snagging a small cloth that he had retained for just such an occasion. Well, to be honest, it was more for cleaning up his own messes, but he considered this to be one of his own.

Being ever the gracious host, Brandon turned the clean cloth to his guest, wiping down the cum-and-oil-covered member and his soaked balls. The bear gave out a little bit of a whimper at the touch, his dick still sensitive and a little bit sore from the gripping of Brandon's muscles. After the clean-up, Brandon turned the cloth to his own freshly used tailhole, cleaning it up as well as he was able. He would be able to bathe himself in the morning, he reasoned. Besides, this was special, and he wanted to keep it.

The otter climbed up, putting his head against the bear's neck and breathing in deep, taking in his powerful smell. Scott surprised him by twisting his head and kissing him again, full and hard on the lips, his slimy tongue slipping out and penetrating Brandon's mouth. They wrestled a bit there, breaking off only to breathe.

"Brandon," Scott whispered. "How long are the potion's effects supposed to last?"

The apprentice alchemist blinked. "I don't know, I don't recall the entry saying. I mean, the after-effects may be permanent."

"Permanent?" Scott asked, sitting up a little bit.

"Well, I mean, you're going to remember all of this, and...I don't know if I would ever be able to treat you the same way again," Brandon said. "What about me? Do you think that we can go back to being how we were?"

Scott was silent for a long time, and Brandon's heart started to sink. Finally, the bear said. "No. Not ever."

Brandon smiled sadly. He knew what he was and what he had done had an impact on his own life, and he was worried about what it would do to Scott's. Here he was, literally holding onto the only person he had truly desired since he had come to this remote village, in the after-glow of their first time making love, and real life started to creep back into his mind.

Scott broke the spell however, by giving a little grunt, snapping Brandon out of his thoughts and back into the bedroom. "What is it?"

Scott pointed down at his body, and in the shadows of the room Brandon could see what he was trying to signal. Slowly, the bear's erection began to rise again. "I think the potion has other side effects..."

Brandon slapped his tail against the side of the bed, crawling down until he was able to once again get a handle on the patient's 'symptom.' He could feel the blood as it flowed, filling the veins of that juicy cock in his hand and heating up rapidly as it grew to full hardness. "Hmm, I think I'll have to take a sample," Brandon mused, wrapping his lips around the tip and getting ready to start round two.

~@~@~@

"I've heard enough," Reinard said, holding up his hand.

Brandon swallowed the lump in his throat. He had made it through the story without dying of a heart attack, and that would have to do. He stared at the wood grain of the table, unable and unwilling to look his master in the eye after what he had just divulged, even though it was precisely what his master asked for.

"It's obvious that my serum works, and it's obvious that you are telling me the truth about the accidental dosage. We have a larger concern if Scott can't contain himself, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to that. For now, finish cleaning up, including, apparently, yourself."

The bathing basin was in his master's chamber, and he wasn't keen on getting naked in his master's room at the moment, but he knew that he was being ordered. He rose, blushing furiously at the slight tent in his pants that the recalling of the night's activities had bestowed upon him. Reinard noticed too, chuckling at his apprentice's predicament.

"For your education - that love potion was only meant to last for two hours. Everything else, his appearance at the door, and his apparent stamina in the bedroom, was all his own doing."

Brandon nodded, blushing a bit and heading off to go bathe. As he got to the door, Reinard coughed, signaling him to stop.

"By the way, I'm still angry. If someone had come to the door needing aid that night, you would have been in no position to help them. I don't care what you and Scott, or anyone else in the village, get up to, but if you endanger my villagers, I will send both of you away, do you hear?"

Brandon nodded silently once more, then shot out of the room before his master could interrupt.

Reinard turned back to his breakfast, staring at the cold porridge for a moment before deciding against it. He rose, glad that his apprentice could not see that the story had the same effect on him. Perhaps, with a little alchemy and a little more coaching, he'd have two young and willing apprentices.