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Sunrise the following morning found Kristian and his father asleep in Bruno's bed. The older buck was on his back, with Kris curled against his side, one leg and an arm draped around him. Bruno awoke first, and the emotional conflict of what had developed between him and Kristian hit him like a freight train. These incredible taboos just seemed to keep following him around, punctuating his life over and over. Had he failed as a father? How seriously had he crossed the line, this time?

Bruno turned his head and blinked the sleep out of his eyes, focusing on Kristian's sleeping face. The younger buck had his head pillowed on Bruno's shoulder, and in his sleep he looked incredibly peaceful. Entirely carefree. Not at all as though he'd sucked his father's cock only hours before.

In spite of his guilt, Bruno felt himself rise to attention at the fresh memory. The way Kris had been so pent up and eager after their time at the Boys' Club the night before - the way he'd shot his load almost the moment his father had touched him... Bruno exhaled softly through pursed lips. That wasn't something he was going to get over in a hurry. He could only hope the relationship between father and son hadn't been irreparably damaged by such an egregious transgression of the norm.

He throbbed steadily. His morning erection was solid, and gave no indication of subsiding. He could feel Kris against his thigh, just as hard as he was. The thought of waking his son up with his hands or mouth crossed his mind, but before Bruno could build up the confidence to make any move, he felt Kristian stir, rising to wakefulness. Hurriedly, Bruno closed his eyes, and pretended to be asleep.

He felt Kris lift his head to look at him, and did his best to keep up the ruse. It seemed to work. Kris laid his head back down, and sighed softly. His arm tightened across his father's chest, and Bruno felt the younger buck flex his cock against his thigh, and then give a slow, deep grind. And another, and another. Kristian was humping his leg. He was just about to announce his wakefulness when he felt Kristian's hand wander down his torso. Bruno was, in the back of his mind, certain that Kristian perhaps thought he was in bed with his twin brother, not his father. His son made a beeline for his target, however, and Bruno struggled to suppress a groan when Kris curled his hand around the base of his cock, and squeezed. The heated little whimper from his son was precious, and the eager shove of his hips against his thigh was punctuated with a heavy spillage of precum.

Bruno snored softly, as if to convince Kristian to keep going. Which he did. The younger buck's hand stroked slowly up and down his aching shaft a couple more times. Then he stopped. Only for a moment. Just long enough to grab his own cock, and milk a palmful of precum from himself, precum that was heavily enhanced by the supplement pills he'd been over-indulging in.

Bruno couldn't disguise his pleasure when Kris' hand returned to him, slick and wet, to firmly corkscrew around his shaft, up against the ridge of his glans. The younger buck chuckled softly against his father's cheek.

"Morning, dad," he mumbled huskily.

"Nnnh... morning yourself, kiddo," Bruno replied. "I uh... Kris, wait."

Kris paused, but kept his hand curled around his father's arousal.

"Kris, this is... we shouldn't be..."

"What, I shouldn't wake my dad up with a handjob? No shit. My dad probably shouldn't suck my cock either, or know as much about me as he does, but here we are."

"Kris, you know how wrong this is. All of this. I shouldn't even have been at the club last night, that's your space and you need to express yourself there without me hanging over you."

"But I _like _you hanging over me, dad!" the younger buck chuckled, twisting his hand slowly around Bruno's shaft. "How did you say it... I'm _into _that?"

Bruno gave a deep, throaty groan, and lifted a hand to cover his eyes. _This is so ridiculously unhealthy for us both, _he thought. Kristian ground firmly and rhythmically through the wet patch of his own making on Bruno's thigh, and after a long minute of battling with his misgivings, Bruno lifted Kristian's hand away from his cock. Kris let out a deflated huff.

"Alright, c'mon. Let's just jerk off together and think about it in more detail once neither of us is worked up," Bruno said, finally relenting.

Kris threw back the blankets, and eagerly rolled onto his back beside his father. Pressing a thumb above the base of his own turgid shaft, Kristian pushed his hips upward and flexed, causing his glans, shiny and purple and glistening wet, to flare. Precum drooled thickly down his length, and Bruno couldn't help but stare. Kris was perhaps a couple inches shorter than Bruno, and noticeably slenderer. Bruno mirrored his son's exhibitionism, and Kris bleated quietly in arousal at the sight of his father's rod standing tall like a spire of the purest masculinity he could imagine. Bruno's glans was much drier than Kristian's, its crevassed, keratinised skin giving it a dull lustre that belied its sensitivity.

"Y'know, I always used to feel guilty about you two getting cut when you were younger," Bruno mused, gazing on his son's penis with a strange mixture of pride and arousal. "But I don't think I do, any more. It's... very handsome."

"Uh huh. Don't be. I love mine, and I'm pretty sure Deets does, too. You were done at birth, weren't you?" Kris replied, breathless with arousal. His hand, far softer and slenderer than Bruno's, too, lifted to smear his precum over his length, and began a rhythm of stroking that, for Kristian, was slow and measured. Even then, he paused after three strokes, throbbing heavily.

"I'm glad to hear that. Not quite, I was about nine months old. Just the thing everyone did back then. I really wanted you two to grow up intact, but your phimosis was pretty extreme."

"Yeah, I remember. Boners used to hurt like a bitch, there really wasn't any alternative, was there?"

"Not especially."

"Don't worry Dad, you explained it to us really well, and made sure the choice was ours."

"I'm relieved that's stuck with you."

"Now shut up and get stroking, otherwise I'm gonna jump you again!"

Bruno laughed, and slipped his free arm beneath his son's shoulders. Silence fell between them. Relatively speaking, anyway. The shared sounds of heavy breathing, rhythmic, fleshy noises and the headboard of Bruno's bed banging the wall gently behind them filled the room. Nothing untoward, just a father and son waking up in the same bed together and masturbating in full view of each other.

A completely normal family dynamic.

Kristian pumped his cock with staccato vigour, working his precum-coated shaft into a foamy lather that reeked of musk and teenage hormones. The scent filled Bruno's lungs, and fired his own lust. If Kris was always as... quick... as he'd been the previous night, Bruno suspected he was riding the edge already. The older buck was much steadier and more measured in his stroking, focusing on his shaft without paying much attention to his helmet. His large, callused hand gripped his shaft skin and pumped it, although he had very little movement to work with.

"Nnnh... Dad..."

Kris bleated, eyes clamped closed. His cock throbbed and pulsed, and the younger buck's hand pumped it with a frantic, irregular rhythm. Abruptly, he launched himself upward and over Bruno, kneeling across him and hurriedly batting his father's hand away from his cock just as the first powerful, watery squirt of cum erupted up Bruno's torso to splatter his chin. Bruno had no option but to comply, and watched closely as his son angled his cock down, coating Bruno's dry shaft in heavy, slick jets.

He collapsed forward onto his free hand as his orgasm passed, and grinned at his father. "Looked like you could use a bit of lube," he breathed.

Bruno stared up into his son's face, and then down at the mess between them. Most of Kristian's cum had missed, but there was enough of it on his penis to get the job done. The older buck grinned, and cocked an eyebrow. "Well, you got plenty to spare, I guess!"

Surrounding his shaft again, Bruno resumed stroking, and this time Kristian remained over him, kneeling astride his thighs with his own member remaining stubbornly hard, albeit less urgently so. Kristian's cum was slick and warm, and Bruno found himself sliding his hand rather than gripping his skin. It felt amazing, all the more so for being such a taboo indulgence. Kris shuffled downwards slightly, bringing himself closer to the action, and Bruno was hardly surprised to notice his son resuming playing with himself. He was much slower about it the second time, less urgent. Bruno twisted and milked his hand around his aching rod, and felt his balls tighten to the base.

He didn't warn Kris of his impending climax.

Heavy, rhythmic spurts of cum launched through Bruno's fist, arcing upward to hit Kristian's muzzle and chest in hot streaks of white. Kris grunted, and dived down onto his father's ejaculating cock, pushing Bruno's hand down with his lips. He engulfed Bruno's head and a few inches of his thick, pulsing shaft in his mouth, sucking eagerly and swallowing his father's load as it was offered to him. It was the second orgasm Kristian had ever observed from his father. Well... technically the third, but that first one had been many years previous and Kris, hiding in the doorway with his twin brother, hadn't known what to make of it. And these latest two had both happened in his mouth.

Nothing was said between them for a few minutes, while Bruno's breathing returned to normal, and he softened.

"So... assuming that was breakfast," Kristian said, grinning broadly and licking his lips, "what's for brunch?"

"Well, I don't know about you but I am _desperate _for a piss..." said Bruno, with a filthy grin.

"Oh? Oh! _Dad!" _Kristian giggled, and batted playfully at Bruno's chest.

*

Bruno and Kristian showered together, and Bruno indulged Kristian's kink to the best of his ability. Kris revealed - to Bruno's relief - that he wasn't interested in watersports as a hard kink - no drinking, or being pissed on or anything of that nature. For Kris it was all about the exhibitionism and the relief. That was something Bruno knew he could work with. And it was a button he knew he could press at any time for Kris, and the older buck stored that little tasty morsel of information away for future leverage.

Once they were both clean - physically, at least - Kris retreated to his bedroom to dress, and Bruno went downstairs to cook breakfast. Or, more properly, brunch.

"So. Uh... Any plans for today, Kris?" Bruno asked, when Kristian came down the stairs a short while later.

Kris had dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a zip-up hoodie, and seemed almost meek, compared to earlier. Bruno slid a plate of pancakes across the breakfast bar to his son.

Kris pulled himself up onto a bar stool, and began shovelling syrupy pancakes into his mouth. "Nngh. These are good. Um... yeah... gonna head into the Old Town with Avery, then we're both working later tonight."

"Oh? That's always nice, when the people you work with are friends, too. He seems like a nice kid."

Kristian rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide his smile at how incredibly Dad-like that comment was.

*

Kristian left the house half an hour later, and within a few minutes, Dieter arrived home.

"Hey Dad," he walked straight up to Bruno and hugged his father, who returned the embrace warmly, and kissed his son on the cheek. "I smelt pancakes... got any batter left?"

"I don't, but I have all the ingredients. Want some?"

Dieter nodded, and held the hug for a little longer. Bruno could immediately tell the fawn had something on his mind - even though both his boys were adults now, he couldn't ever stop thinking of them as fawns. Unbidden, the image of Kristian plunging onto him earlier that morning sprang into his mind, and he suppressed it ruthlessly. Eggs. Flour. Milk. Sugar. Whisk. The pan was still on the stove, and didn't take long to heat up.

"Hey, you want some strawberries with your pancakes?"

"Sure."

The batter sizzled in the pan, and Bruno expertly flipped pancake after pancake, ending up with another stack the size of the one he'd cooked for himself and Kristian moments earlier.

"Alright, there's something on your mind. What's going on, Deets? Anything I can help with?"

Dieter chewed slowly, thoughtfully. At length he nodded.

"I hope so. I've been talking to Uncle Gerry a bit, and..."

"Oh dear."

"No no, he's actually been... less of a shitbag than usual, I... he's a surprisingly good listener, once you get through the exterior of... you know."

"Mm, I know. Little bit surprised to hear that coming from you, though."

"Trust me, I was not expecting anything positive to come of it. I dunno though, he and I have been spending a lot more time together and... he sort of has this bad-boy charisma that's hard to ignore. Somehow that makes him easy to talk to, as if no matter what you say, he's experienced it."

Bruno nodded slowly, carefully, and leaned forward on his elbows on the far side of the kitchen island. "Agreed. But this isn't about him, is it?"

Dieter gave a thin smile. "That's precisely what I told him, too. No, you're right. And so was Gerry. I've been trying to find a way to blame him for Kris and I not being as close as we once were, for ages. But it's not about him coming into our lives, it's more about... well, me."

"How so? You and Kris have definitely ahh..." Bruno cleared his throat, "grown up quite differently."

"Yeah, that's the point. Kris is so open and confident and self-aware, like he just... Well, ultimately this is about sex, I uh, I guess I see a lot of differences between us in that regard in particular."

Bruno nodded thoughtfully. Dieter was a very articulate young man, and obviously spent a lot of time thinking through what he was going to say before saying it. "You can cut to the chase if you want, Deets, I think I know you well enough to not need the whole context."

Dieter frowned. "Do you, though? How can you know me that well if I don't even know myself? And that's the problem, I don't think I _do _know myself. Kris does. I just can't work out... you know, what I'm _into. Who _I'm into. I mean, Jack, obviously. And Kristian, you know about that. But when I look at other guys, or girls, who I think should be attractive, they just... aren't? I mean, it's not like I feel like I could just... Shit, I don't even know how to phrase this."

Bruno took a long moment to process his son's words. What he described was beginning to feel familiar. "I can't say I haven't noticed that about you, Deets. If I may; how do you feel about sex, broadly?"

Dieter shrugged. "I mean, you know I have a libido."

"Do I ever," Bruno chuckled. "But I think I see what you mean - where Kristian is very open and sex-positive with virtually anyone, you're a lot more reserved about it all. But when you and Kristian are together, it's a different story. Or you and Jack. Is that still a thing between you, by the way?"

"Yeah, that about covers it. I mean, based on Jack and Kris, it'd be safe to say I'm gay, right? But... that doesn't feel right. I'm not attracted to anyone else. Just Jack and Kris. And yeah, Jack and I still chat occasionally, but it's nothing like the way it used to be, since we finished school."

"But you're not straight either, are you? I haven't ever seen you express more than a passing interest in a girl. Do you think maybe you might be asexual?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well. Might come as a shock to the system, but I'm asexual. Or 'demisexual,' I think the word is. You're not driven by a constant urge to have sex with people, and people you do have sex with, you need to have a really solid, trusting relationship with. You can have sex and a libido and still be asexual. That's a new realisation to me too, for what it's worth."

_ _

"I just... aren't people supposed to just know, by a certain point?" Dieter sighed.

Bruno shrugged. "No? A lot of people never fully work it out. Comes down to exposure to ideas, I think."

"How so?"

"Well, how would you know you were asexual if you were never even aware of what that meant? We're all constantly bombarded with sex through the media and such so it's perfectly reasonable to assume that's how you're meant to be, one way or another. I mean - when your grandfather was your age, the concept of being anything other than straight was just unheard of. You can only work with what you know."

"I guess," Dieter mumbled, uncertainly.

"There's no time limit on working this stuff out, Deets - it's a process, not something you always have to just know straight up," Bruno said thoughtfully. Then he chuckled. "I was 39 before I found a label for my sexuality I was comfortable with."

"Really? I remember you going on dates and stuff, vaguely."

"Mmhm, I did. It took me quite a while to realise that I was forcing feelings most of the time in those scenarios. Look, try not to stress about it too much, alright? I know that's easier said than done, but there's nothing worse than trying to mould your own behaviours and attractions and whatnot to a preconceived notion of how you _should _be," Bruno said.

Dieter looked up into his father's eyes, and smiled. Bruno clapped him on the back. "Thanks, dad. I'm... still not sure, but that's food for thought."

_ _

*

It was Kristian's idea to go to the Old Quarter of Stillwater Cove with Avery. The effeminate bunny usually preferred the big-box shopping strips in the newer parts of the town, but Kris had persuaded him to venture outside of his usual home-range.

Avery was already waiting on a wooden bench under a tree in the old Market Square when Kristian arrived, standing on the pedals of his bike to haul it up the steep incline into the Square.

"Hey! How long have you been here? Did I keep you waiting?" Kris said, smoothly lifting a leg over his bike as it squealed to a halt a few yards away from where Avery sat.

Avery stood, and shook his head. Kris was overwhelmingly used to seeing Avery in his sparkly booty shorts from the Boys Club, so seeing him fully dressed was a bit of a shock to the system. The feeling was mutual, apparently, the pair of them casting eyes over each other as if to ensure they really were the right people!

"No, you're fine sweetie. I got Sammael to bring me in earlier, he daylights up here as a dance instructor."

"Ahh shit, you should've called me! I would've come earlier if I'd known, I uh... haven't... been doing much today," Kris said, hastily constructing a lie.

Avery smirked, and his eye dropped to Kristian's groin. "Oh, I bet I know what you've spent the morning doing. You and Sam are as horny as each other!"

"I can't confirm or deny that!"

"Well at least you're not denying it. If you were a liar too that would make you just as bad as Sam!"

"So uh... he's a dance instructor? I didn't know that!"

"Mmhm, he doesn't tell many people about it. He lives this crazy double life; teaching dance to kids by day and humping me on stage by night," Avery giggled, rolling his eyes.

"How... well obviously he told you, right?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Avery said cryptically, raising an eyebrow. "C'mon, I need something to eat, I'm famished."

The bunny slid an arm around Kristian's waist and propelled him towards a nearby food stall, leaving the stag somewhat confused.

*

"...and stretch, and hold! Three, four, up! Five, six, left! Good, good, well done Tracey. Back to positions, once more!"

Sammael applauded his small cohort of dancers, and stooped to retrieve his water bottle. The stag had two more classes after this one, before the small, private dance school closed for the night. He'd worked there for several years - in fact it had been his first job after finishing high school, and after having taken classes there himself. His students were a motley crew of kids, mostly middle- and high-schoolers, getting extra tuition for drama classes or to pursue a career in performance art. Tracey was the exception, in purpose if not in age.

Sam watched the fifteen year old rabbit's lithe, nubile body twist and pirouette with remarkable grace and lightness, striking poses and making movements it had taken Sam himself several years of intensive training to accomplish. And Tracey had been a natural from the start. Once the class had finished their final round of routines with Sam moving among them, guiding a limb here, adjusting a posture there, the stag applauded them once more, and dismissed the group.

Every one of the students departed the room, except for Tracey. Sam flashed the bunny a grin, and cast a "critical" eye over his body. Tracey's dance outfit was, like most of his students, comprised of a dark leotard over close-fitting Lycra undergarments. It made him look even younger. Ostensibly the lycra outfit was to maximise range of movement, highlight muscle groups, and wick sweat from fur during intensive training. But on Tracey, it did other things for Sam, too. With comfort borne of routine, Tracey slipped the shoulder straps of his leotard down his arms, and stepped out of the garment, leaving him in white Lycra shorts and a T-shirt of the same - the shorts did very little to preserve his modesty. Sam stared, and Tracey enjoyed it. He knew everything was on display. Early on, when the bunny had first begun dance classes, he'd been incredibly insecure about being a boy in an overwhelmingly female-oriented program. That's how he'd ended up in Sammael's dance class - the stag had been through similar insecurities and understood his students the best.

What really made Tracey stand out in Sam's group, though, was who he was. He was Avery's little brother. And it was Avery who'd inspired him to pursue dance classes. That Sammael had ended up being his instructor had at first bothered Avery, but in time the older bunny brother had grown used to the idea, especially as he saw Tracey truly begin to come out of his shell for the first time.

What Avery couldn't know, was that Tracey saw a lot more in Sammael than just an understanding, compassionate tutor.

"You were very impressive today, Tracey," Sammael said quietly, standing and moving to the bunny boy.

Tracey's fur was damp with sweat, and the white Lycra of his undergarments wicked it away, making the already sheer fabric translucent. Sam moved to stand behind Tracey, and lifted his hands to the limber young bunny's shoulders, massaging them firmly. Tracey leaned back into the touch, and gave an effeminate giggle.

"Thanks, Sam. Ahh, careful! Don't you have... mmh... another class?"

Sam pressed firmly up against Tracey's back, and the bunny gasped quietly, perking his hips back and grinding his toned, firm buttocks into the stag's groin. Sam was already hard in his shorts, and Tracey wasn't far behind him.

"Nnh. How long have you been hard for?" Tracey murmured, biting his lip and adjusting his Lycra as he swelled into it.

Sam gave a slow, firm, eager grind forward, and slid his hands over Tracey's slinky hips to pull the bunny back against him. He felt precum spill into his foreskin, and slid a hand around to firmly grope and fondle Tracey through his lycra. "Mmmh. Long enough, I suppose. Fuck, I wish we had more time, I love how you taste when you're sweaty..."

"SAM! You're gross!" Tracey squealed and fought his way out of Sam's grip, giggling excitedly. The bunny turned to face his tutor, and his eyes dropped to the painfully obvious ridge in the stag's shorts.

Sam, likewise, had his eye fixed on Tracey's. The bunny may have been small and twinky - and he most definitely was - but he was _hung. _Completely unlike his older brother, Sam thought. The outline of Tracey's erection was near-perfect in the white lycra, straining with youthful vigour. Sam felt his heart rate quicken. They were alone together, and Sam knew from experience how quickly he could get the teenage bunny off. The stag stepped forward again, and pressed his palm firmly against Tracey's cock, grinding his hand into it. Tracey moaned, and buried his face in Sam's chest, humping firmly into the stag's grip. Sam throbbed in his shorts. It was going to happen. He was going to have to take a bathroom break before his next class to finish himself off, he just knew it. His fingers curled around Tracey's cock, using his grip and the slinky friction of the bunny's lycra shorts to pleasure him. Tracey panted and huffed, and Sam could feel his breath dampening the fabric of his t-shirt. The temptation to whip his own cock out and frot the bunny boy until they both came was almost beyond Sam's ability to control. But he managed. This was all about Tracey. Sam could feel the dampness of precum spreading around the head of Tracey's cock, and dropped his other hand to firmly grope and knead the bunny's butt. Tracey gave an effeminate, breathless moan, and bucked his hips roughly into Sam's hand, over and over. If anyone walked in at that moment it would be all over for both of them. Sam varied the strength of his grip, milking Tracey into his shorts.

It was less than two minutes for the bunny, from flaccid to climax.

He tensed up suddenly, spine arched, and stifled a squeal of pleasure by burying his face all the harder into Sam's chest as he came. Tracey's body trembled as rhythmic contractions rippled through him, and Sam felt every pulse of the bunny's cock in his hand. A messy ooze of slippery, clear seed pushed through the white lycra onto the heel of Sam's palm, and the stag grinned filthily.

"Fuck, you're such a little hottie," he murmured huskily, swiping up Tracey's watery cum on his fingers and licking it up eagerly. "So sweet and tasty, too."

Tracey pulled back as he slowly regained his breath, and glanced down at himself. His shorts had a small but obvious wet patch, the lycra clinging perfectly to his glans. He looked the stag up and down, his ears flushed pink.

"Want me to finish you off too?" he asked, perhaps a little hesitantly. His eyes flicked towards the door, and the clock hanging above it. Did they even have time?

Sammael shook his antlered head, and walked stiff-legged to where Tracey's leotard lay discarded on the parquet floor. He found the crotch and sniffed lewdly before tossing it to the bunny. "No no, as much as I'd love to feel your sweet lips around my cock, we don't have the time and I like not being in jail," Sam chuckled. "I'll go uh... take a bathroom break. I need a piss anyway!"

Tracey swallowed heavily, and Sam noticed that the bunny hadn't fully softened. If anything, he was hardening again, swelling upward towards the waistband of his shorts. "So do I... C'mon, we can get away with it!"

And so it was, that Sammael was fashionably late to his next class, and arrived seemingly very perked up and refreshed.

*

Tracey walked slowly through the narrow, cobbled streets of the Old Quarter. He was still wearing his white lycra, although before leaving the dance school he'd pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. The teenage bunny was in no particular hurry, but he had absolutely not counted on running into his brother.

"Tracey?"

He whirled around at the sound of his name, and came face to face with Avery, a handsome stag standing a little behind him. For a split second he thought it was Sammael, but no, this stag wasn't staring at his crotch.

"Avery! What're you doing up here?"

"I'm just here catching up with Kristian - uh, Kris, this is my little brother, Tracey," Avery said, introducing the two of them. "Kris and I uh... we work together."

Kristian smiled, and extended a hand, which Tracey shook limply. The younger bunny had a distinct blush forming on his cheeks and in his long ears, and seemed to be wrestling with something internally. "I uh... that's cool. I was just... at dance class with Sammael and uh..."

"Oh really? You're in Sammael's class? Small world, huh?" Kristian chuckled.

Avery and Tracey exchanged a glance, and Tracey nodded. "Sure am. Um, Avery, are you... working tonight?"

"Yes, why?"

"Mom and dad are going out and I don't wanna be home alone all night again."

"Ugh, Tracey, you know how I feel about you coming to the Boys Club. It's an adult space!"

"Please? I'll get there early, before the bouncers turn up, and you won't see me all night. Promise. I just don't wanna be stuck at home by myself. Or worse, with mom and dad."

Kristian looked back and forth between the bunny brothers. They could've been twins, almost. Both were predominantly white-furred, with patches of brown and grey. They were about the same height, and of a very similar build, although Avery had a slightly more defined musculature that Kris assumed would come to Tracey too, with maturity. It was hard to tell Tracey's precise age, but he definitely did not pass for eighteen. Not even close. His voice was soft and lilting, like Avery's, and it was immediately clear that Tracey looked up to Avery.

"Alright," said Avery, at length, to a relieved sigh from Tracey. "Be there at five, not a moment later. And be grateful, I'm getting there two hours early to let you in."

Tracey squealed and launched forward to hug his brother, nearly bowling him over. "Thankyou thankyou thankyou! You're the greatest. I'll be no trouble, I promise."

With that, he turned and bounded off, racing off through the streets, presumably returning home, Kris thought.

"Is that... something that's happened before? How old is he?" Kris asked, once Tracey was out of earshot.

Avery rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Yes. He's impossible to say no to. He'd just spend the next two weeks sulking if I did. He um, turned fifteen a couple weeks ago. Not that you'd know, he could be eighteen or he could be twelve."

"Well, in fairness, so could you."

"Shut up, coatrack, I pass for twenty no trouble!"

"Sure you do."

Avery glared, and Kristian grinned.

"Anyway. Yes. Things are... complicated. Sammael is his dance tutor. We dirty-dance after dark at the Boys Club. Tracey knows that, and yes, he's been before. There's a lot of little secrets to be kept."

"Don't worry about that. I'm uh... good at keeping secrets," Kris said, quietly.

Avery's ears perked forward, and he raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Oh, now I am properly interested."

"Maybe I'll fill you in, one of these days..."

*

Tracey arrived at the Boys Club at four-fifty. The squat, seedy-looking building was even less inviting than it usually was, without lights on or a line of patrons out the door. Even worse, Avery had instructed Tracey to wait out the back, in the alley, by the staff door. The young bunny hugged himself and looked around nervously as he made his way into the stinking filth of the alley. At least it was daylight. Cracked asphalt underfoot, a rusty fence on one side lined with dumpsters, and the very much less-than-appealing rear wall of the club on the other. It was a far cry from the timeless charm of the Old Quarter where he'd spent the earlier part of his day. Thankfully, he didn't have long to wait. Avery arrived a couple of minutes later, and, Tracey noticed, seemed similarly unimpressed with their surroundings.

"C'mon, get inside quick, before anyone sees you," Avery muttered, punching his access code into the keypad by the door and propelling his little brother into the darkness of the club.

"Is there anyone else here?" Tracey asked, his voice barely a whisper. His heart pounded with excitement, though.

"Shouldn't be, not yet. The bar staff and security usually arrive at like six, and performers from six thirty. Doors open at seven, the vanilla show begins at nine, and Heat from eleven. C'mon, you know that already, right?"

"Right, Heat. Yeah."

Avery rolled his eyes. "There's tissues in most of the booths if you really can't control yourself."

Tracey blushed brightly, and allowed Avery to lead him through the maze of corridors at the back of the club.

"Alright, I'm gonna leave you on your own for a bit, okay?" Avery said. "I have to go get Kristian, since Sam said he couldn't get there to give him a lift in tonight. You've got the run of the place, at least for a short time. Stay - and I cannot stress this enough - hidden."

"Yeah yeah, I get it. Your job, your space, don't touch anything, no alcohol. It's okay, Avery, I'm just glad you let me in."

Avery stepped in to hug his brother. "Good boy. I'll be back."

Tracey didn't even wait until he heard the door click shut to have his phone in his hand, texting Sammael. Hey, at Boys Club alone, you nearby?

_ _

The reply was almost instant. Be there in five.

_ _

Tracey's heart pounded. His cock was raging hard in an instant, just from anticipation, and he could feel adrenaline coursing through his veins at the prospect of a very taboo, very raunchy bit of alone-time with Sammael, for the second time in the same day. Tracey's libido was ridiculous, even for a teenage bunny. Even Sam struggled to keep up with him. Tracey had been somewhat taken aback to learn that not everyone needed to cum six times a day to be able to focus on anything else. The bunny stepped into the dressing room, turned on the lights and began to undress.

*

Sammael jogged up the alley behind the club at five past five. He certainly hadn't been expecting to hear from Tracey that night, but it wasn't the first time Avery's little brother had gone out of his way to be alone with him in a very adult space. As he punched in his access code and entered, Sam saw that the only light on in the club was coming from the dressing room. Rather than call Tracey's name and potentially blow his cover, Sam instead called a "hello?"

"You got here quick," came a familiar voice.

"Wouldn't have missed this f... fucking hell, Trace!"

Sam stopped dead in his tracks as he stood in the doorway of the dressing room. There was Tracey, completely naked, slouched in one of the makeup chairs with one leg hooked over its armrest. He swivelled around to face Sam, chewing demurely on the tip of one of his ears. Everything was on display. The bunny's slender, well-formed body rested on the makeup chair like a piece of classical sculpture. Aside from the erection, of course, which stood proud and pink against white fur, above a tight, fuzzy little coinpurse, a smooth taint and a hole which looked like a snack, to Sam. The stag felt himself surge to erection, and kicked the door shut behind him, taking three steps forward to loom over Tracey.

"You should be illegal, you know. For being so entirely, unreasonably hot..." Sam growled, wrestling his way impatiently out of his clothes.

"Oh, but I _am _illegal! That's why you get so hot for me..." Tracey giggled.

The bunny bit his lip when Sam unceremoniously shoved down his pants and underwear. The stag's thick, uncircumcised cock sprang rigidly upward, flinging a streak of precum up Tracey's chest. Tracey himself was cut, and it had been the difference between them that had first drawn the bunny to Sam, just a bit of harmless comparing in the change rooms after a dance class several years previously. Sam's had been the first - and was still so far the only - uncut cock Tracey had ever seen, and it fascinated him. Without so much as a pause, the bunny dropped his feet to the ground and shuffled forward to perch on the edge of his chair, legs apart. Both his slender hands surrounded Sammael's stiff rod, and he immediately began manipulating the thick, fleshy hood that kept his tip so slick and sensitive. Even after only sucking that particular cock a few hours ago, to Tracey it was always like the first time. Sam groaned heatedly. Very little was said between them. Their mutual attraction was clear, and they only had a limited time before people started arriving at the club.

Tracey gazed hungrily at Sam's cock as he stroked it, pulling back the stag's foreskin until his frenulum pulled tight, and teasingly running his lips over the ridge of Sam's glans. He smelt musky, like urine and cum and spit and sweat, and Tracey knew he hadn't showered since their encounter at the dance school earlier. It was far from a dirty smell though - quite the opposite. Tracey filled his lungs with that intoxicating aroma over and over, until with a grunt, Sam pulled away. His cock throbbed, and Tracey had the satisfaction of seeing a little drool of something pearly string down to the carpet.

"Ooh, did you nearly...?"

"Yes... you're way too good at that. But you've already swallowed one load from me today, I think it's time I got a taste of you..." Sam leered, reaching for Tracey's knees and hiking them up over his shoulders.

The stag knelt in front of the chair, and was immediately presented with Tracey's ass, his balls, and of course that cock. The bunny was slender and slightly curved upward and to his left, with a neat scar that was barely visible and a smooth, pink head with quite a pronounced coronal ridge. Sam was, without a doubt, an absolute cock-hound. He was addicted, there was no other way to put it. And in the case of Tracey, Sam had been uniquely privileged to have watched it grow and begin to mature in the few years he'd known the boy. And now here he was, being invited to his own place of work by Tracey an hour early specifically to mess around with him.

Sam heatedly dragged his tongue up the inside of Tracey's thigh, and then over his balls and up the underside of his shaft, cupping it to his face with one hand while the other tugged and stroked on his own. Tracey squealed in pleasure and flexed, making his cock jump, and reached for Sammael's antlers. It wasn't long before Tracey was breathing hard, rolling his hips against Sam's attentions, and curling his toes in the air over the stag's shoulders. Sam was very skilled with that tongue, and the look in his eye as he moved further down, over Tracey's taint and his tight, puckered hole, was one that the bunny knew well. Sam wanted in. Tracey abruptly batted Sam's hand away from his cock as he felt a surge from deep within.

"N-no, not yet... don't wanna cum yet..." Tracey whimpered.

"You act like that would stop you from wanting to continue," Sam teased, his voice muffled by Tracey's buttocks as he worked his thick, slippery tongue around the bunny's pucker.

Tracey was more than capable of stringing together three or four orgasms without stopping for breath. Especially if they were dry orgasms. Which still happened a fair bit. The bunny pouted, and shuddered in pleasure. "Nnnh... J-just... enjoying it... too much," he stammered.

"Mmmhm. So am I... You're my little slut, aren't you? Go on, say it..."

"I... ah? I'm your... little bunny slut!"

"Good boy..."

"I want you to breed me..."

Abruptly, Sam pulled back, and Tracey felt the stag's hands on his hips. Sammael was surprisingly strong for such a slender buck, and he manhandled the bunny easily onto his knees, braced with his elbows on the chair's backrest, spine arched, tail flagged... the classic position. With the chair dropped to its minimum height, that put Tracey's ass right at the level of Sammael's cock, and the stag moaned in pleasure.

Lube was, of course, a permanent fixture in a dressing room predominantly used by gay male dancers, so Sam had no trouble finding a bottle. He squeezed a generous amount along the top of his shaft, and smeared it around himself with his hand. He could barely contain himself. With his foreskin held back, Sam pressed the thick, swollen head of his cock, slippery with precum and lube, against Tracey's tight, warm pucker, and gently began to roll his hips, pushing inward just a tiny fraction of an inch at a time. Feeling the boy's ass spreading so deliciously slowly around his aching rod was just...

A shocked bleat, a squeal and a loud bang came from outside the dressing room, and the door abruptly flew open, depositing a voyeur unceremoniously onto the dressing room floor.

Tracey yanked himself away from the stag in shock. Sammael's heart stopped. They'd been caught. It was all over. Sam was probably going to lose his job at the very least, and perhaps a lot more.

Except...

_"Avery!" _Tracey squealed.

*

Kris was more than capable of getting to work on his own, walking or cycling in. It wasn't far, by any stretch of the imagination - in a town like Stillwater Cove, everything was close. But the skies were clouding over rapidly as the afternoon wore on, and by the time Avery and Kris were ready to leave the Old Quarter and return home before work, it was looking decidedly like it might rain that night.

So it was that Avery picked Kristian up. The bunny drove a battered old 'economy' roadster, a tiny little scrap of a thing with pop-up headlamps and a tattered fold-away roof.

Kristian looked at the low-slung car sceptically as Avery pulled up out the front of the Hirschkoff house, and locked the door behind him as he stepped down to meet the bunny.

"Oh... Avery, you might wanna put the roof down," Kris suggested.

"What? No, it's about to rain!"

"No, trust me, you're gonna want to put the roof down."

The stag tapped a finger on one of his antlers, and the penny dropped for Avery. "Oh, shit."

"Why do you think I haven't bothered to learn to drive? Finding a car I fit into would be a challenge. You'd think someone would've thought about that."

"You could get a minivan, I guess?"

Kristian snorted, and between them he and Avery manipulated the battered soft-top into position behind the seats, and climbed back into the roadster. Kristian's antlers protruded a good six inches above the top of the windshield, and Avery giggled.

"Let's see if they whistle in the breeze."

*

It had started to rain by the time Avery and Kris arrived at the Boys Club. There was a small parking lot at the end of the alley behind the building, and Avery slotted his car in with practiced ease.

"How are we gonna go later on, if it keeps raining? I don't want you to drive me home if you're going to get water in the car," Kris said, as between the two of them they locked the roadster's roof back into place.

Avery shrugged. "I don't really care. But if you don't want to get rained on I'm sure Sam'll give you a ride."

"In more ways than one, the pervert..."

"Hah, you know it. Horniest guy I've ever met, I swear. Makes you look positively innocent," Avery grinned, slipping an arm around Kristian's waist as the two boys walked the short distance to the staff door behind the club.

"Hey, I _am _innocent, what are you implying?" Kris protested playfully, pressing up behind Avery as they reached the door and sliding a hand around the bunny's waist to grope him.

"Ooh, you little shit. N-no stop it, you'll make me hard!"

"And that's a bad thing, because...?" Kris mumbled, grinding gently against Avery's butt.

"Because my little brother's inside, dammit!"

"Oh right, I forgot about that," Kris chuckled. "I'm ahh... fairly open with my brother, that wouldn't have even occurred to me."

Avery's ears burned, and the bunny huffed. He couldn't help it, he was hard in his shorts from the stag's attention, even as he batted Kristian away from him. The downside of being a bunny was how... easy, everything was.

The door clicked, and creaked open. The club within wasn't quite completely dark, and Avery assumed it was Tracey who'd turned on some lights. Little scaredy-cat was probably afraid of the dark.

"Alright, I'm gonna go use the bathroom. We're still early, so uh, you want a drink or something?" Kris asked, as the two of them entered.

"No, I'll be fine for now, thanks sweetie. I'm gunna go check on my brother, make sure he hasn't made too much of a mess," Avery said, rolling his eyes.

Kristian raised an eyebrow, and grinned, which caused Avery to splutter and backtrack. "No no no, not like that! I mean... he probably did, but still... I don't... ugh, no!"

Kris laughed, and gave Avery's butt a playful squeeze. His eyes adjusted to the gloom quickly as he moved through the club's familiar layout towards the bathroom. While he pissed noisily against the steel trough urinal, Kristian contemplated Avery. For someone who presented as being so shy at first, he'd certainly opened up to Kristian quite rapidly. It was clear there was a bit of chemistry between them. Much more so than he felt with Sammael - the other stag was just a complete hornbag. Which Kris also appreciated. Sam was the life of the party, in no uncertain terms.

Kris shook out the last drops, and tucked himself back into his pants. A quick stop at the bar on his way back to the dressing room, perhaps.

*

Meanwhile, Avery padded silently up to the dressing room door. Part of him wanted to catch Tracey unawares, doing... whatever it was he might be doing. He didn't announce his presence, although with the amount of noise he and Kris had made upon their arrival, he'd be staggered if Tracey hadn't heard them. The dressing room lights were on, and the door was ajar. Abruptly, Avery heard Tracey speak from within. Was he talking to himself...?

"Ooh, did you nearly...?"

A grunt followed, and it wasn't Tracey's. Avery peered around the door, and saw...

"Yes... you're way too good at that. But you've already swallowed one load from me today, I think it's time I got a taste of you..."

Sammael!

_ _

Tracey's eyes widened, and the bunny was just about to kick the door in and... and what? As he watched, Sammael, who was in there naked with his equally naked little brother, dropped to his knees before Tracey, spreading his legs up and over his shoulders. Avery's heart leapt into his throat, and his mouth felt suddenly dry. He was glued to the spot, frozen in place, watching intently as his coworker and friend, and Tracey's dance tutor, cupped his little brother's cock against his muzzle, peppering it with heated, horny kisses.

Avery should've been horrified, he knew. He should've busted right in and broken them up on the spot. Barred Tracey from ever coming here again, and... but he couldn't. He was transfixed. The lewd panting coming from Sammael, and the effeminate moans and gasps from Tracey... no, he shouldn't be hard over that! Avery groped and fondled at himself in his shorts. He was hard as diamond, and his cock throbbed desperately in its prison of fabric.

Completely forgetting about Kristian, Avery hurriedly unbuttoned and unzipped his shorts, and let them fall to his ankles. He glanced down at himself, then back in at Tracey and Sam. A frown passed his features. Tracey seemed to be hung like a horse compared to Avery. Avery's cock was just barely four inches, and the bunny had always assumed his brother's would be about the same - not that he'd ever given Tracey's dick much conscious thought, not since they were kids. But here he was. Tracey's cock was probably three inches bigger than his own. How had that happened? Avery felt a little pang of jealousy, amidst the fog of arousal.

"I... ah? I'm your... little bunny slut!"

"Good boy..."

"I want you to breed me..."

Avery barely suppressed a groan. He hurriedly spat into the palm of his hand, and he urgently, desperately stroked his granite-stiff member to the scene playing out before him. His hand made quiet, wet clicks as he masturbated, and when Sam manhandled Tracey onto his knees on the dressing room chair, Avery felt the spark ignite in his loins. He was actually going to cum over this. He urgently suppressed the part of his mind that was screaming at him about how wrong this was, and focused instead on how naughty it was... and how good it felt.

He edged, and his hips shuddered. Avery bit his lip, squeezing his little cock as hard as he could and then letting go to stem the tide. It just barely worked, and as he calmed down, Avery suddenly heard a noise from behind him.

A rhythmic, wet, slick noise, accompanied by gentle, but elevated breathing. His own masturbation had disguised it, but now... Avery hesitantly turned his head, ears flattened, eyes wide... and there was Kristian, a few feet away, the stag's eyes fixed on Avery and his very hard, very wet cock in his hand. Their eyes met, and Kristian gave a sheepish grin, and took a step forward.

That was too much for Avery to take. He took a step, forgetting that his shorts were around his ankles. He flailed, arms spinning wildly, and fell against the dressing room door, which flung open and sent him crashing to the floor right in front of Sam and Tracey.

"Avery!"

_ _

*