FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The tall minotaur stared into the darkness of the forest, his eyes took in his surroundings much better than his father's ever could. A snort left his nose and he moved the great sword in his lap, the heavy metal was nothing for his thick arms and moved as easily as if it was made of hollow wood. His heavy steel armor laid by his side, a few dents and nicks showed in the polished armor but it was still the best armor the bull man had ever worn. The faint silver light of the moon kissed his bare form, the ivory fur reflected the moon rays to give him a muted glow. Peter looked away from the dark, his gaze turned towards the strange white fur that now covered him; the mark of Hieroneous and so different from his old brown fur. It still confused him at times, moving his body only to see marble white where there should have been earth brown. Peter shook his head and let out a dejected snort. His gaze returned to the forest in front of him as he clutched his sword tightly. Hieroneous had chosen him. He had given him the courage to fight for his family. Peter wouldn't fail them now as they rested. Soft snores came from the tents behind him, where his family now rested after a hard day of battle. Memories of the fights rushed through his mind: the clash of steel, the screams, the blood, the bodies, the pain, the illusions, his life draining through his mouth. It all brought a heavy mist to his thoughts, muddling them in ways he refused to show in front of his family and dulling his senses just enough that he almost missed the flapping of a tent.

His ear flicked at the sound, a new but friendly scent reaching his nose. He let out a soft snort and relaxed his grip on the blade before his big head turned towards the source. A stocky figure exited one of the tents, clad in a tunic and some breeches, a sword in one hand and a big shield on the other; his green skin looked almost blue under the moonlight, the two big tusks protruding from his bottom lip shone like marble while the porcine features of his face were brought out by the silver glow. The orc turned to the minotaur, gave him a friendly wave and a smile before he crossed the distance with firm steps. A regal air clung to the orc as he took a seat near Peter, settling his sword and shield on the ground next to him.

"Your watch is still a few minutes away, my lord." declared Peter after a few moments of silence, his words soft and grave, without a hint of accusation.

"I couldn't sleep." replied Orvig, his voice grave but tired. The orc turned to look at the minotaur, an amused grin on his face. "And I thought we agreed on no formalities."

"You trained me to be a knight and you're the lord of this land. It is proper."

"I just taught you how to protect your family, how to take the burden of battle." replied the orc with mild irritation.

"Even so, it is proper Sir Asler. When a knight trains another-"

"They become brothers in arms Sir Peter," the young knight cut in, steel in his voice, "or do you not consider me so?"

Peter remained quite for a few moments, his tail swam through the air with nervous energy, the silence heavy and tense.

"I, I do. My apologies Orvig." relented Peter, giving a soft nod to the orc. The young knight smile widened, honest and open, making the ivory bull's heart flutter madly. Peter turned his gaze away from the orc, heat rising in his face and deep in his gut. Silence stretched for a few more seconds, comfortable and relaxed, before Peter asked. "Why couldn't you sleep?"

"It's too quiet." the orc's voice tried to sound nonchalant but Peter's ear caught the sadness in his tone. Peter didn't say anything, he just let his tail flick closer to Orvig. "I know it sounds silly, but the keep was always bustling with activity, even at night. There would be guards patrolling the hallways servants running errands and, sometimes, I would help father with matters of the land deep into the night."

"It's not silly. It was your home." the young orc flashed Peter another disarming smile, stoking the fire in the bovine's heart. The minotaur let out a soft snort, his hand moving the blade from his lap for the first time since his watch started and settled it on the ground beside him. Then his hand came to rest on the old log they were sitting on, relaxed and free. "I miss the heat of the forge, the smell of burning coal."

"It must have been hard keeping your fur clean in the forge." Orvig pointed out, his hand sneaking closer to Peter's.

"My fur was brown then, almost black. The coal didn't show much most of the time. The white fur is Hieroneus doing. He made me like this when he gave me his blessing." Peter's calloused hand rested on Orvig's, thick bovine fingers trapping the orc's in a soft, warm hold. "I bathed every day either way, it itched horribly if I didn't. Lucas often complained if I moved too much when we slept."

A laugh left Orvig's mouth, the orc's shoulders finally relaxing; his posture became looser, freer. The sight brought a smile to Peter's face.

"Well, I think white suits you, makes you look noble and handsome." Even if Peter hadn't caught the flirting tone Orvig had used, there was no way to hide the change in his scent. The spicy scent of desire came from the orc in waves, powerful and needy. It stirred the heat in the minotaur's face and brought life to Peter's member, the hard flesh straining against the bovine's breeches for freedom. Orvig laid his other hand over the minotaur's large one, giving it a reassuring squeeze as Peter's ears twitched madly.

"Orvig, we can't- you- and I-" Peter stammered as the knight's fingers traced a path up his arm, the touch sending shivers down the bovine's spine. The orc's fingers closed around his shoulder in a hold of steel, his resolute eyes met Peter's, a playful smile tugging at the orc's lips.

"Are just Peter and Orvig. Just a pair of lonely souls. No lords or knights, tonight is just for us." Orvig's other hand moved towards Peter's chest, burying his fingers in the thick ivory fur of the minotaur. Peter's body trembled as the knight's hand explored his stomach, slowly making his way to his chest; the bovine's muscles tensed with every touch and brought out a pleased hum from the orc. Peter's member was straining painfully against his breeches while the orc's scent screamed of desire. A desire for the minotaur. A whimper left Peter's throat as the orc's hand moved away from his chest, the minotaur's tail flicked behind him in annoyance. "But only if you want to."

A sacred silence fell onto the clearing while the two paladins looked at one another in the eye, a slight trembling to their hands. A whirlwind of emotion assaulted their hearts: duty, lust, affection, fear, doubt. A cold wind blew through the clearing, its frigid touch hitting the pair in full force. Clad in only his tunic and breeches, Orvig couldn't stop the shivering of his body. Peter's body jumped at the chance, pulling the young knight into a tight hug, Orvig let out a sigh of pleasure as the body warmed his body like a furnace. The orc didn't let the opportunity go to waste and he buried himself in the soft thick fur. Peter tightened his hold on Orvig, a soft snort leaving his nose as the orc's hands sneaked around his back and brought him into a hug.

The two enjoyed the intimate hug for a few moments, no words needed between then, before Peter pushed Orvig back, his hands taking the orc's guiding the orc's face up for a tender kiss. A moan left the young lord as his mouth parted to deepen the kiss, his hands groping Peter's chest. A pleased groan came from the bovine, barely muffled by their kiss. The scent of their desire growing stronger as they gave in to their lust. The young men's hands hungrily explored their bodies while their tongues danced around each other, Orvig's soft short tongue sliding against Peter's rough long one. Their members throbbed with desire inside their breeches, a mess of pre-cum already staining the cloth.

The pair parted for breath an eternity later, their breath coming in pants. The young knight's hands cupped the minotaur's muzzle, staring at the twin azure orbs with affection and candor. Meanwhile, the bull man's own hand had settled on the orc's wide hips, his fingers worming under the tunic and touching the smooth skin beneath. The bull's ears twitched at the hitched breath that came from the orc as his fingers trailed up his stomach. His muzzle nuzzled the orc's face, the tusks sliding over his fur harmlessly while Peter enjoyed the scent his lover gave so willingly. Cold hands trailed down furry biceps, feeling the strength of the iron like muscles before they found two little nubs protruding from the skin. With gentle strength, the knight pulled on them, a soft moo leaving the bull man seconds later. The next moo was muffled by their kiss, the minotaur's hand snaking around the knight's waist to take a firm hold of the firm glutes.

Their hands explored their body hungrily for a couple of minutes, their kiss raising in heat and passion by the second. All thoughts pushed aside in front of their desires. Muffled moans came from the pair, marking each other with their lustful scent while their bodies cried for each other's touch. Eventually they parted for breath, their eyes clouded with lust. Orvig's hands made their way to Peter's crotch, the minotaur's member clearly outlined by the cloth. Orvig's eyes met the bull's azure one, and with a single nod from the big minotaur, the orc pressed his hand against the bovine's virility. The big bull tensed under the touch, a soft whine escaping his lips as the orc's hand rubbed the cock through the cloth. The knight's own hard-on laid ignored as the young orc gave in to his morbid curiosity. He grasped, he rubbed, he teased and he prodded.

It wasn't enough however, as his unattended cock told him over and over again. Orvig needed more. He got up from the log and with the firm step that had been drilled into him since his youth, stepped in front of the minotaur. He locked eyes with Peter, who only gave him a goofy smile and a nod before he spread his legs wide for the young lord. Orvig got on his knees, the minotaur impressive height making it so that even sitting, his crotch was on level with Orvig's chest. Trembling green hands grabbed hold of the breeches cords and, a bit of fumbling later, the orc's greedy hands slipped inside the cloth, grasping the thick tool moments later. A snort left Peter's nose as his hands gripped the log tightly, cracks appearing near his fingers. A thick smell of musk and bull hit the orc as the minotaurs length escaped the breeches, the flesh standing tall and proud against the chilly air. The rounded head glistened with pre-cum. The orc's hand lost no time in touching the member, eliciting a series of soft moos as Orvig rubbed and squeezed the soft flesh, completely enthralled by the large pillar.

Soon, touching wasn't enough and the orc's face approached the bull's member. His hot breath sent bolts of pleasure up Peter's spine. It took all of the large bull's self control to let the fascinated orc explore, his loins aching for something more. The first lick brought a loud grunt from the minotaur and recorded the earthy taste in the orc's tongue forever. The second brought a moan out of both of them and by the third they had found a good rhythm. Orvig took Peter's tool in his hands, jerking off the bottom with slow gentle strokes while he placed kisses and licks all around the top. Peter moaned his enjoyment freely, his hips bucking in the orc's hold and his breathing coming in heavy pants. The knight understood the signal, and with care for his tusks, took the minotaur's tip into his mouth, bathing it with his tongue. A loud moo left Peter's mouth as Orvig sucked and licked at his sensitive tip, shivers of pleasure running through both lovers; their minds completely caught in the moment. Peter's hand gripped the log with herculean strength while the other took a hold of Orvig's head, guiding it down his shaft with loud slurps, the tale tell pressure on his stomach signaling his impeding climax.

Almost as if reading Peter's mind, Orvig doubled his efforts. He took in as much of Peter as he could, tasting the pure flavor of bull before he started to bob his head up and down the shaft, the luscious sounds filling the clearing. A green hand left the bull's pillar and sneaked inside the knight's breaches, stroking his member in time with the bobbing of the orc's head. Moans left the orcish knight while he sucked the bull with abandon, the vibrations bringing Peter to new heights of pleasure.

The ivory minotaur was getting close to the point of no return, his whole body trembling with anticipation as the orc went to town on his spear, taking it all with practiced expertise. The orc's assault crumbling Peter's resistance until the bull was right at the edge. A soft needy moo leaving his lips as his dick left the orc's mouth with a pop. Orvig looked back at him, his eyes clouded with the same need as Peter's, yet there was also a playful glint to them. His hands grasped Peter's spear with both hands, eliciting a low whimper from the bull, the touch too soft to bring him over the edge. Orvig shot the minotaur another of his charming smile before he took him back into the warm cave of his mouth. Bolts of pleasure shot through Peter's body while Orvig sucked his cock with the relentlessness he used in battle. The suction quickly brought him over the edge, warm minotaur milk painted the orc's mouth liberally, the orc drinking as much of the thick liquid as he could. Peter's hand kept Orvig in place as he rode his orgasm, the sensations proving too much for the young orc as he came too in his breeches.

The minotaur was barely recovering from the heights of his climax when he heard the flapping of a tent, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Fearful, the large bull turned his head around and took in the surprised expression of his dad. The humans eyes as wide as his mouth, the thick smell of sex and the white fluid that dripped from Orvig's lips leaving no doubt about their actions. His father turned sideways, trying to hide the tent pitched in his pants while a tired sigh left his lips.

"Peter, what's goin-? Wait, no, don't." his father started, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just, do me a favor son."

"Anything, dad." said Peter with a thin sliver of a voice.

"Wake up." replied Arthur, his voice oddly firm and monotone.

"Wha-what?"

"Wake up, Peter. It's time to wake up." came the firm voice from all over the clearing, raising in power and strength. All around him the forms blurred and lost their color. Gone was the clearing and the moon, the armor and weapons. Orvig gave him a pleased smile before he too was gone and all was blackness.

Peter's eyes opened with a start, the dark beige cloth of the tent appearing before his eyes. The smell of winter, forest and food reached his nose, along with the familiar smell of his father and his cum. Heat rushed to the minotaur's cheeks for a different reason, his hardened shaft and the viscous fluid drying on his fur betrayed what had happened. Beside, his father was crouched, a tender smile on his lips.

"It seems I interrupted a nice dream." his dad said while thankfully avoiding to look at his eldest son mess. "We got to get moving soon, you should be able to clean yourself if you hurry."

"Yes, dad." replied the minotaur as Arthur left the tent with a low chuckle.

Peter followed him moments later, the chilly air of the morning hitting his naked fur. Grayish light cast everything in a surreal aura, the sun barely coming up in the horizon. Peter's ears flicker as the sound of conversation reached his ears. A few paces from the tents, Arthur was talking with Orvig, thankfully keeping his fellow paladin from seeing him covered in cum. A surge of life came back to his loins when the knight released an honest laugh, forcing an annoyed snort from Peter's nose. Unwilling to push his luck, Peter walked away from the camp towards the nearest river.