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Bond of Brothers - Part 11

Kristian poured himself a glass of sparkling water from the soda fountain, drained it, and then refilled. The club was surprisingly comfortable to him, even without its heaving masses of patrons and performers. He took a moment to enjoy the quiet, and then, having drained his glass again, left it on the dishwasher rack. He wondered what Tracey had been up to for the short time he'd been alone in the club - he hadn't seen any evidence of the younger bunny's presence at all yet. The thought of Tracey being in the club covertly all night didn't sit entirely comfortably with Kristian - but he couldn't chastise Avery for allowing it, not after some of the things he and Dieter had gotten up to as fawns even younger than Tracey was.

Slowly, Kris made his way from the bar back towards the dressing room, and gasped.

His eyes widened, and he took a step back, hiding in the gloom. Avery was leaning on the doorframe of the dressing room, peering in past the edge of the half-open door. His shorts were around his ankles, and it was absolutely beyond doubt that he was masturbating. Kristian could hear the rhythmic little wet noises his hand made, and see his arm shaking. The bunny's hips ground softly into his grip, and Kris could see him trembling with excitement. What was going on in there? Was Tracey in there... was _Avery _jerking off over his little brother doing something in the dressing room...?

Kristian watched intently. Avery lifted his hand, and licked his palm again, and in that moment, highlighted in the light spilling out around the door, Kris saw the bunny's penis for the first time. He'd felt it through Avery's sparkly booty-shorts the previous evening, and had been curious about it ever since. It was as small as it had felt, and, glistening with saliva in the light, Kris could see the bunny was circumcised. Something else they had in common, he thought.

Kristian was stiff as a board at the sight, and as Avery gripped himself and resumed a quite firm, deliberate pace of masturbation, Kristian quietly wrestled himself out of his jeans, as well. He grinned. Surely Avery would notice. This was going to be fun. The young stag milked a thick drool of precum onto his fingers - just as reliably as always, and smeared it around his penis. Edging a little closer, and a little closer again, Kris ended up only a few feet away from Avery, staring openly at the distracted bunny and stroking himself wetly. He wasn't even trying to be subtle about it. Faintly, he could hear voices from within the dressing room.

And then Avery edged.

Kris could barely suppress a groan, and watched closely as the bunny's little cock bounced and throbbed, pointing angrily upward as it pulsed, his hips trembling with a surge of desperation - Kristian nearly lost it to the sight, as well, and only saved himself by sheer force of will. Precum drooled thickly over his fingers, and he gave himself a few eager, wet strokes.

Finally, Avery noticed.

The bunny turned towards him, and their eyes met. Then Avery's eyes travelled downwards. Kris reached out, and Avery took a step back, and tripped over against the door, which flung open...

*

Kristian stepped forward, a soft laugh passing his lips.

"Avery, are you... are you... oh. Oh."

Avery was sprawled on the floor, shorts around his ankles, a look of profound horror on his face. In front of him, on his knees, ass-up and very, very naked on a dressing room chair was Tracey. Behind him, his cock glistening with lube, was Sammael. The four of them exchanged glances for a long moment which varied from abject horror, to unexpected arousal, to - at least for Kristian - humour. Finally, Kris couldn't hold back his laughter any longer, and broke into giggles.

Tracey had turned and was sitting on the chair by that stage, his hands covering his face in embarrassment, and Avery was awkwardly trying to disentangle his shorts from his feet. Sammael had lost his erection, unsurprisingly, but hadn't made any effort to hide it.

"Well... this is... unexpected!" Kristian ventured.

"Avery, what the _fuck _were you doing?!" Tracey demanded, rounding on his older brother.

"I could ask you the same thing," Avery replied frostily, fixing a glare at Sammael, who flicked his ears backward and refused to make eye contact. "Or more properly, _Sammael, _what were _you _thinking?!"

Kristian glanced at Tracey. The young bunny hadn't softened, and his eyes were fixed hungrily on Kris' own penis, which he hadn't sought to cover. Tracey was... Considerably larger than Avery, Kris noted. And apparently with the total lack of self-control that came from being a voraciously horny teenager in an adult-oriented space.

Sam was actually a little lost for words, if only for a moment. "Well... it can't have been _too _bad, if you found it hot enough to want to get off to it..."

Avery blustered, and rose to his feet. His shorts remained unbuttoned, but he'd softened and tucked himself away. "Sam, I cannot believe what I'm seeing! You were just about to fuck my little brother! And _here, _of all places?!"

Tracey's legs had fallen open again, and the bunny boy was facing Kristian, on full display. Kris swallowed heavily. The kid was utterly shameless, now that he could see Avery's anger was directed at Sam, instead. He was even idly masturbating himself, rubbing his frenulum with a pair of fingers. Kristian, at length, decided to set as good an example as he could, and Tracey pouted when the stag stuffed his erect penis back into his jeans. Although the kid still didn't bother hiding himself. His attention turned back to Sammael and Avery, though. "Av, I invited him in, it's my fault."

Avery rounded on his little brother with the closest thing to a snarl that a tiny, very gay bunny can manage. "You, mister, have completely stepped over the line! I'm halfway minded to call mom and dad right now and tell them what you... what you..."

Avery's tirade trailed off limply, as reality dawned on him. If he called his parents, they'd know Avery had been letting Tracey into the club. More than that, it would come to attention that Sammael had a very improper relationship with his student. Not to mention...

"Come on Avery, it's just a shock to the system, right?" Kris hazarded, stepping forward and slipping an arm around the little bunny's shoulders. "And you can't deny that you were... kinda into it. You were just about there, too."

"Shut up shut up _shut up!" _Avery squeaked, batting at Kristian's chest.

And then, abruptly, the bunny burst into giggles. Kristian laughed as well, and slowly, after a moment of confusion, so did Tracey and Sam. Kris hugged Avery until the bunny was calm again, and then fetched a box of tissues for them all to dry their eyes on. And other things.

Sam, still naked, leaned on the edge of the bench that ran the length of the wall beneath the dressing mirrors. Tracey had relaxed somewhat too, and was sitting with his feet on the ground, swivelling side to side on the makeup chair. He was still just as hard as ever, seven inches of slender, teenage bunnymeat jutting pinkly out of his groin.

"So um... did anybody... cum yet?" Tracey ventured, eventually. His eyes were half-lidded with arousal, and he glanced around at the three older boys.

All three shook their heads.

"Nope, but your brother was edging..." Kris said, elbowing Avery in the ribs playfully.

"I was not!"

"Yes you were, I was watching! You were so close to masturbating to completion over your little brother gettin' bumped by this sleazebag..." the stag teased.

"Hey!" Sam protested.

Avery launched himself at Kris, wrestling the stag up against the far wall. Kristian laughed, and subdued the bunny with another hug. His hands slid down Avery's body to his perky butt, and he pulled their hips firmly together. "Ooh, he's hard again," Kristian announced, giggling. Avery just melted into the hug, and ground up against the stag.

Sammael was hardening again by that stage too, and Tracey had his cock in his hand still, tugging on it absent-mindedly.

"Hmm... Maybe we should all like... finish off together... maybe take it a little cooler than we were before, though, huh?" Sam suggested, rolling back his slick foreskin again and quite overtly displaying himself for Tracey.

Avery was the only one with misgivings, although Kris could feel the bunny's body and hormones were betraying his better judgement. Kris leaned in close to Avery's ear, and whispered; "Your dick is fucking adorable."

That caused Avery to flex, and grind heatedly up into Kristian's groin, sliding their rigid poles side by side through their hastily rearranged clothing. Kris kneaded Avery's buttocks firmly, and one of his hands wandered downward between them, seeking to free the bunny from the confines of his underwear once more. A familiar click and a loud creak broke the rising tide of heat that was building between the four boys, and the familiar, lisping loudness that was Augustine cut like a knife into their shared consciousness.

"Fuck. _Fuck! _It's Aug. Quick, everyone get the fuck dressed, and Tracey, get the fuck out of here. I don't care where. Anywhere you won't be found," Avery said, pulling away from Kris.

The bunny's eyes lingered apologetically on the stag's, and Kristian nodded. Kristian's jeans bore a large wet stain where the head of his cock sat, and he could feel his balls tingling with their need to unload. He could only imagine how Tracey must be feeling. The boy's cock was stubbornly rock-hard, and nothing he did was going to make it any less obvious - besides cumming, of course, and there was no time for that now! Hastily, all four of them arranged themselves into some semblance of order, and Tracey dived into one of the large wardrobes against the far wall. And not a moment too soon.

Augustine came barging into the dressing room, the Equid positively erupting with his usual flamboyance. "Booooys! Boys boys boys! How _are _you, it's so nice that you're all here, did you come together?"

The double-entendre was anything but lost on the middle-aged queen, and he wiggled his eyebrows. A pause followed. Augustine's nostrils flared. He sniffed the thick, humid air of the dressing room, flared his upper lip in a distinctly equine fashion, and snorted. "Goodness, it smells... musky in here. Eurgh. Well what_ever _you've been up to... I hope it was good. Invite me next time, alright?"

And then he was gone, with a flick of his tail, pulling the door shut behind him.

All four of them, Tracey included, let out a collective sigh of relief, and giggles ensued once more.

"That," Avery said, after a moment, "Was fucking close."

"So were you," Sammael prodded. Avery went bright pink, and spluttered a reply. "Hey hey, don't be mad. I'll finish you off later tonight, don't worry. Your little brother can watch, if he's into that."

Tracey came bursting out of the wardrobe to defend himself.

"Oh look, he's still hard!" Kris laughed before Tracey could speak, leaning nonchalantly on the wall where Avery had left him.

"No 'coming out of the closet' jokes?" Tracey said acidly, his ears drooping.

"No need, kiddo. Can tell from a mile away."

*

From there on, any opportunities for the four of them, two stags and two bunnies, to relieve their hormonal urges were virtually non-existent. Once Augustine arrived, things began happening with significantly more urgency. More dancers arrived. Bar staff, security, cleaners, and even a few customers showed up early, and the most regular of them were allowed in long before the club officially opened. All of that meant that Tracey was relegated to one of the storage rooms until the crowd of patrons grew to a level where he would not be noticed by anyone with the authority to kick him out. He knew from experience that he stood out in such an adult space; while Tracey was significantly more hung than his older brother, he didn't pass for eighteen. Not even close. The young bunny was frustrated in more ways than one, but the scare of nearly being caught by the club's star act, and of actually being caught by his own brother in a very compromising situation dampened his hormones just a little.

Sammael distracted himself - and removed himself from Avery's withering glares - by offering to assist Augustine prepare for his show later in the evening. Kristian and Avery were leading the vanilla show that evening, and later on, Aug was premiering an entirely new act. It would be the first time in a while he'd done anything other than the drag show he was most famous for, and even an old hand like Aug was nervous about the reception he'd get.

"I cannot believe I actually _agreed _to do this," the stallion moaned, pacing up and down in his dressing room. "Are you sure I can't talk you into standing in for me, Sammael darling? You're far younger and so much hotter!"

Sam chuckled, and shook his antlered head. "No way Aug, you're gonna be amazing. I never would've picked that you'd be nervous about getting naked on stage - that's how this whole Heat show started to begin with, wasn't it?"

"Yes yes yes, of course it was. But I was twenty years younger, a lot more toned and um... less... saggy."

"You? Saggy? Aug, seriously, you're hot as fuck. People are gonna be drooling over you. You're a stallion, for fuck's sake."

Aug snorted, and stamped a hoof indignantly. "I'm also a queen, you little shit. It's an entirely different type of performance! Drag is comfortable, drag is... well... it's almost a kind of roleplay, but... a striptease? Ugh!"

"So think of it as a roleplay! Project someone you feel comfortable projecting. Your younger self, maybe? I mean, whatever - most everyone out there's seen me strip plenty of times, and Avery too. You're an enigma."

"Kristian, then!"

Sammael rolled his eyes, and stopped Augustine's pacing by gripping the stallion's shoulders firmly. Augustine was in his mid-forties, and up close it was apparent. His muzzle showed flecks of grey, as did his mane. His body was still trim and slender, though, and under stage lights, properly made-up, he'd present as a virile, overwhelmingly gay stud still.

"Nah, it's all you, Aug," Sam grinned.

The corners of Augustine's lips quirked upward slightly, and he let out a breath in a huff. "What if... I can't... you know..." his eyes flicked downward, pointedly lingering on Sammael's groin. "...Perform?"

Sam snorted quietly, and gently guided Aug's hand to the object of his gaze. The stallion's eyelids fluttered, and his hand squeezed and fondled the meaty package he'd been gifted by the young dancer. "Just think of Kris, Tr...Avery and I in the dressing room," the stag murmured, leaning in close, "making a little bunny sandwich."

"You are... _so _naughty, Sammael..."

"Don't act surprised, Aug. You found that out the week I started here."

"You... remember that?"

"Of course. That very first time, when you were trying to be all macho and silent, pretending it wasn't you on the other side of the glory hole?"

Augustine slumped against Sam, feeling the stag harden in his pants and finding himself in a similar predicament. Sam's hands wandered down to caress it.

"I knew it was you right away," Sam continued. "I let you think you'd gotten away with it, just so I could feel that thing flare in my mouth again. Hah! See? There is no way you're gonna struggle to 'perform' out there, Aug."

The stallion grunted, and shoved his hand down the inside of Sammael's pants. His fingers curled around the stag's thick, uncut penis, and his eyes widened. "Is that... lube...?!"

Sammael just smirked.

*

The evening was progressing well. Augustine and Sam had been suspiciously absent for most of it, but after the incident with Tracey, neither Kris nor Avery was particularly surprised by the stag's disappearance. He wasn't even rostered to perform that night, anyway. The club was packed, even more so than usual. Augustine's strip-tease had been widely promoted, and his reputation preceded him to some extent. As Avery and Kris led the vanilla show, Kris noted that the average age of the audience was a little higher than usual - evidently a number of patrons had come out of the woodwork who remembered Augustine from his earlier days, before he'd converted to being predominantly a drag performer.

Once they'd backed up and introduced the headline vanilla act, Kristian pointed that out to Avery, as the pair of them threaded their way through the crowd to the bar for drinks.

"Mm, you noticed it too," the bunny giggled, tipping back a glass of water, and then another.

Kris was equally parched, and almost without noticing added another three pints of water to the two he'd had from the bar earlier in the evening. His balls ached dully from their earlier indiscretions, and he adjusted his tiny, sparkly booty shorts. He caught Avery looking, and returned the favour. The bunny blushed. He turned to lean on the bar, which while hiding his crotch from Kristian's gaze, exposed his butt.

"Yeah, more than one leather-harness-daddy out there tonight," Kris grinned, eyeing the sparkly peach that was Avery's backside. "Plenty of greedy eyes on you, too, even though that was only a backup for the vanilla show."

Avery huffed, and his little pink nose quivered. "No one's eyes are greedier than yours right now, mister."

"I'm not going to deny that," Kris said, gently. "You are fucking adorable."

"Hey, isn't that your dad?" Avery said suddenly, his ears pricking up.

Kris let out a little huff. Was he coming on to the bunny too strong? A little reluctantly, Kristian turned, to see an all-too-familiar pair of antlers - easily the biggest rack in the whole place - working their way through the crowd towards the bar.

"Sure is. I should go say hello. You going to come and join us?" Kris asked.

"I... should go and make sure Tracey is staying outta trouble. Next time, though!"

"Alright, if you insist! I'll see you backstage after the Heat show."

"Sure thing, sweetie," Avery giggled, and leaned up to kiss Kristian's cheek.

The bunny's arm brushed Kristian's groin, and he grunted. That had been deliberate. Avery was something of a mystery, to Kris. He found himself wanting the bunny more with each day that passed, but Avery seemed coy, to say the very least. At least Kristian knew he had a libido, now. Maybe his hesitancy was just his way of processing events that for him were a long way outside of the ordinary.

Kris watched him go, and then turned to seek out Bruno.

*

Dieter enjoyed having the house to himself. Not that he had any difficulty in sharing the space with his twin brother and their adoptive father - nor even with Gerald, their biological dad, when he was around. But there was just something relaxing about the peace and quiet of solitude, in a comfortable and familiar setting. Dieter knew where Kris and Bruno were, of course. He found it a little unnerving how regularly Bruno went to see Kris perform on-stage at the Boys Club, but Bruno was the kind of dad who was overwhelmingly supportive of his sons no matter what they chose to do. And of course, Dieter was well aware of how sex-positive Bruno was as well. What confused him, somewhat, was the apparent conflict between his sex-positivity and his proclaimed asexuality. Particularly as Dieter himself began to question whether he was perhaps on that spectrum as well.

Dieter himself was rapidly learning the crafts his father had spent his entire adulthood performing; artisanal carpentry and, more recently, pottery. Bruno had begun to move away from the former towards the latter in recent years, in order to reduce the strain on his body as he moved into middle-age. And as his sons reached adulthood, he'd offered to train Dieter as his apprentice - an opportunity Deets had grasped eagerly. Bruno's business in the Artisan District was a multi-generational family one. Bruno's grandfather had started it up in Habury, Scordomna, many miles to the east of Stillwater Cove, decades prior. And when Evie and Ulrich Hirschkoff - Dieter and Kristian's grandparents - had emigrated from Scordomna to Rhocarn just before the outbreak of the Heladian War, they'd brought it with them. For years, the business had operated out of a centuries-old workshop in the Artisan District of Stillwater Cove, eventually being passed from Ulrich to Bruno when he had sought to retire. And now the pattern was repeating. Bruno was only in his mid-forties, nowhere close to retirement, but he'd discovered a knack for storytelling that was seeing him pursue new opportunities as a writer - while Dieter took over the family business.

That gave Dieter a huge amount of certainty as to his future, and he couldn't have been happier. He had, however, grown into a much quieter, more reserved young buck than his twin brother - as much as they were two halves of the same soul, they were also opposites.

Dieter sat alone on the mezzanine lounge, gazing out over the ocean visible through the enormous glass wall at the rear of the house as Asantrea's twin suns sank into it, one after the other. He wasn't sure how long he'd have the place to himself. Abruptly, his body reminded him that he hadn't partaken in a certain activity for a few days. Dressed in loose pyjama pants and a wide-necked t-shirt as he was, it was hard to miss the steadily rising tent in the crotch of the former. Dieter chuckled, and let it grow to full mast, a steady thrum of gentle arousal that echoed his heart rate.

"I'm going to have to beat you into submission, aren't I?" he told his penis, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

His penis, of course, didn't reply. But the subtle flow of endorphins it released, and the way his balls clenched and tightened when he flexed it, was all the reply he'd need.

Dieter rose to his hooves, and stretched his back. He took a long moment to admire the unmissable distention in his pants, and then made his way to the bathroom to get some coconut oil, and perhaps to 'borrow' a pair of his brother's discarded underwear, which habitually littered the tiled floor.

No point in messing up his own clothes when such things were on offer, right?

The coconut oil - something of a communal supply of it - was in the bathroom cabinet. Right beside the aspirin, and... Kristian's vitamins. Dieter paused. The bottle was still half-full. Once Kris had worked out he'd been taking significantly more than the recommended amount of those supplements, he'd eased right off. The image of Kristian's cock, drooling precum like a piece of faulty plumbing and going off like a firehose, wandered through his mind. His own throbbed at the memory, and he flipped the bottle over in his hand, reading the dosage instructions and contents carefully.

Arginine, lecithin and pygeum, with a zinc additive. 'For healthy reproductive function,' the bottle proclaimed.

_Prudes, _Dieter thought.

Dieter unscrewed the bottle cap, and tapped a couple of capsules into his palm.

Worth a try.

He downed them with a glass of water, and then, coconut oil in one hand and a pair of Kristian's underwear in the other, wandered back to the sofa on the mezzanine.

His cock hadn't softened at all. He needed this. Dieter shucked his pyjama pants down to his hooves, but left his t-shirt on. His penis bobbed gently with his heartbeat in the dim light, persistently erect and, as was typical for Deets, dry. A bit of precum wouldn't go astray, that was for sure. He uncapped the coconut oil, and scooped out a generous finger-load, then another, holding it in his palm to melt it. The warmth and slickness that enveloped his cock when he pushed his fist down over it caused him to tilt his head back and utter a soft groan of pleasure. He twisted his hand around his tightly circumcised member, and then focused intensively on his glans. Every slow, firm milking motion caused his low-hanging balls to tighten and clench up to the base of his shaft, and he paused every few strokes to prolong the heightened sensitivity he felt from having abstained for a few days prior.

His other hand, meanwhile, made its way up the inside of his loose cotton shirt, to his chest. Hoof-tipped fingers brushed lightly around a nipple, and Dieter pushed his hips firmly up through his slippery fist, tilting his head forward and opening his eyes to watch the glistening mushroom of his cock emerge through his clenched hand. His eye fell on the crumpled cotton of the underwear he'd commandeered, and after a moment's hesitation, Dieter picked them up. They were typically 'Kristian' underwear - silky smooth, skimpy, and clearly designed to 'enhance' the wearer. Predictably, there was a significant amount of dried precum in the pouch. Lifting the garment to his muzzle, he laid the pouch over his snout, and rested his head on the backrest of the sofa again. The familiar, warm scent of his brother filled his lungs, and Dieter returned his hand to his chest, tweaking his nipple and stroking his rigid penis with increasing gusto as the combined stimuli fired his arousal to new heights.

This time, he didn't pause or slow down. Working himself towards the brink of orgasm with steady, eager strokes, he twisted his hand around his penis as he went, squeezing firmly on each upstroke to 'milk' his glans. His breathing hastened, and the familiar spark ignited deep beneath the base of his shaft.

Gonna cum...

_ _

It was a clear road to completion.

His balls rose, clenching hard against the base of his shaft and all but disappearing inside him. His cock, glistening and stiff as oak, was tense and swollen, his glans full and shiny and sensitive.

A strangled bleat escaped him, and Dieter grabbed the underwear off his muzzle, holding them in his palm and hunching forward over them. As his seed began pumping through his tubes, he leaned forward, pushing his penis down away from him and holding Kristian's underwear beneath his tip.

And then he came.

"Fuck!"

The first shot cleared his brother's underwear completely, and went sailing through the air, over the mezzanine railing and down into the house below. The second left a creamy streak across their width, and the remainder pulsed lazily out, pooling around Dieter's glans as it nestled into the soft fabric in his hand.

Dieter rested, breathing hard, for a long moment, before folding the freshly soaked underwear over and using them to wipe some of the oil from his penis. It remained mostly erect for some minutes, even after he leaned back and allowed his eyes to flutter closed in his afterglow.

He was startled back to full consciousness seconds later, when he heard the front door open.

*

"Deets? You here? I brought pizza!"

It was Gerald.

Hurriedly, Dieter fumbled for his pants, and tripped over them heavily when they got tangled around his knees.

"Are you alright? What's goi..."

"YES! Yes, I'm fine! Don't... I'll be right down!"

Dieter could hear Gerald's chuckle from downstairs, and blinked as a light was switched on. The smell of hot pizza wafted up to him, and in spite of being rattled by the interruption, his stomach growled. Dieter glared at his penis, urging it to soften more quickly. It had always taken a while to go down. When he'd been younger he'd taken that as a sign he needed to keep going, but these days he found that to be a bit too much to handle.

Once it was half-flaccid, he figured that would be near enough. Kicking Kristian's twice-stained underwear under the couch for later, he made his way slowly downstairs to where his 'uncle' was sitting comfortably at the breakfast bar, munching on a slice of the pizza he'd brought.

"Oh hey. I didn't catch you at an inopportune moment, I hope?" Gerald smirked knowingly.

Dieter glared at him. "Not quite. I uh... was just about to shower, though."

"I see. So what you're telling me is that if I'd arrived two minutes earlier I might've caught you at an awkward impasse?"

"Uncle Gerry, it's _always _awkward when you show up unannounced."

"My reputation is upheld. Good to know. Hey, you got any beer?"

"Why are you here?"

"Why not? I brought pizza. I was lonely. Figured B... your dad would probably be out with your brother. I mean I'm happy to sit here and eat this whole pizza myself if you're absolutely sure you don't want any."

Dieter sighed, and walked to the fridge to get Gerald a beer, and a ginger ale for himself. "Whatever. Thanks for the pizza, though."

"Any time. Hey, so have you had any thoughts about what you talked to me about the other day? Have you spoken to your dad?"

"About asexuality?"

"Yeah."

"I mean... yes? I talked to dad about it and says he's asexual on some level, but I don't know if I quite believe that."

"I can understand that. Bruno's extremely sex-positive and open-minded, there isn't a lot that he'd be actively repulsed by. There was this one philosopher, like a billion years ago. Fucked if I can remember who. Said something like uh," Gerald cleared his throat, and assumed the air of a stage actor, "'tis the mark of an educated mind to entertain an idea without applying it to oneself,' or some junk like that."

"I think it's 'without accepting it,' Gerry."

"Whatever. The point is, you can accept and be supportive of other people's sexualities and even be _interested _in them without them necessarily applying to you."

"So you're suggesting I'm _not _asexual?"

"Fuck, shit, no. The opposite. You _can _be asexual, and still be turned on by certain things. Even if you don't necessarily want to partake in them yourself. Y'know?"

Dieter stared at Gerald for a long moment. "That actually makes sense."

"Well thankyou, I'm here 'til next week!"

"So what you're saying is that fantasising about things, having a libido, even uh... doing things occasionally with someone, doesn't mean you're _not _asexual?"

"Exactly that, yes. I mean everyone's different. But I think for the most part, being asexual is the absence of the persistent urge to have sex with people you find attractive. If you find anyone attractive at all, that is. It's the whole thing of like, enjoying it vicariously or something?"

"Gerald."

"What?"

"You're overcomplicating it. Stop talking."

"Gotcha. Glad we had this little chat though."

Entirely to Gerald's surprise, Dieter stood, and hugged around his waist. "Me too."

It was at precisely that moment, as Gerald turned to look in surprise at Dieter, that he noticed a cumsicle hanging from the edge of the breakfast bar a few feet away.

*

Bruno walked calmly along the New Port Road towards the seedy strip containing the Boys Club. It was still raining, and the stag carried an umbrella. This part of town was uncomfortable, and even more so in this weather. Four roaring lanes of traffic, mostly freight and cargo, moving from an industrial park to the port via the commercial strip seemed vastly incongruous with the old-world charm for which Stillwater Cove was renowned. Still, Bruno reasoned, every town had an eyesore. The seventies had a lot to answer for. Even over the roar of the traffic, Bruno could hear the deep, rhythmic beat of the club from outside. A burly Urssa man stood guard at the door. He was about Bruno's age, and flashed the stag what he probably thought was a knowing smirk, waving him in.

If only he knew the half of it.

The gloom inside was familiar to Bruno by that stage. The reek of several hundred mostly ungulate patrons, stale beer, piss and the unmistakeable tang of bleach filled the hazy air, itself pierced by strobing stage lights. He approached the entry desk, and handed over his coat, umbrella and his entrance fee. It occurred to Bruno in that moment that if he'd been told ten years ago that he'd be an increasingly regular patron at one of the raunchiest gay clubs in Rhocarn to see Kristian perform on stage, he'd have probably punched whoever told him as much. How times change, he thought.

The crowd parted around him as he walked through it, and more than one regular patron seemed to recognise him. Whether that was on his own merits or because they associated him with Kristian was anyone's guess. Either way, Bruno stood out in a crowd, enough so that Kristian made a beeline for him within moments of his entry. Bruno moved to meet him near the bar, and enveloped the young buck in a fatherly hug.

"Heya kiddo! How's the night?"

"Doing great, dad! Wasn't expecting you to come tonight!"

"Do you mind that I'm here?"

"I uh... don't think there's any point in pretending it's any kind of weird any more, is there?"

"That's a very fair estimation."

Bruno's smirk was tentative, but familiar. Subtly, Kris breathed in his father's scent. It was comforting. "C'mon, do you want a drink? Tap-ale is on the house for performers tonight."

"Sure, I won't say no. You having one?"

Kristian nodded.

"Good. I'll go kick some poor bastard out of a booth so we have a little privacy."

"Daa-a-d, don't be weird!"

"Scouts' Honour!" Bruno grinned.

Kris, flustered, turned back to the bar and whistled to get the barkeep's attention. As a performer, he usually managed to jump the queue, and tonight was no exception. Being dressed in sparkly booty shorts, a rainbow bowtie and nothing else definitely helped, and with beers in hand, he worked his way through the crowd once again until he found Bruno, sitting alone in one of the small, four-seat booths towards the rear of the club. The presence of a couple of scowling patrons nearby suggested to Kristian that Bruno had indeed booted them out, and the obviously flustered looks they gave him suggested that Bruno had interrupted them at quite an intimate moment. Kris grinned sheepishly at them, and shrugged. His presence seemed to calm their ire somewhat, and one, a young gazelle, prodded the zebra who was obviously his boyfriend, drawing his attention to the two stags. A giggle passed between them, and they moved off, evidently seeking somewhere else to continue their 'moment.'

Momentarily, Kris was tempted to invite them back.

Instead, he slid his butt along the vinyl couch to sit alongside his father, who'd spread himself out comfortably with his arms along its backrest. Bruno hugged his son against his side companionably, and their glasses clinked together.

"Cheers!" Bruno said, and took a deep quaff. "Ahh! Not bad for free tap-ale."

"Yeah, you'd imagine it'd be watery piss, huh?"

"Dunno, thought you'd be... _into _that."

"Dad!"

Bruno guffawed, and squeezed Kristian's shoulder.

"Who's that on stage? They're very good."

Kris turned his head to the ongoing vanilla show, which had turned into an elaborately choreographed sequence. No lip-syncing to be found - the singer was genuinely belting out classic romance ballads, almost a sort of opera in its way.

"Oh, that's Winnie. He's... Augustine's prodigy, I suppose. Bit of a pet project of his."

"Very heartfelt."

"Quite."

"Hah, listen to us. Art critics."

"You wait till you see what's up next," Kris said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh?"

"Augustine got talked into getting out of drag and doing a full strip. First time he's done it in years, apparently."

Bruno laughed. "Oh that's going to be a sight. Augustine's the Equid, right?"

"Yeah, the unicorn queen."

"Gonna flaunt his other horn?"

"I... suspect so!"

Kris drained his beer glass, and leaned comfortably against his father. His body felt quietly buzzed, that feeling of extremely mild 'one beer on an empty stomach' intoxication. It was pleasant, although given how much water he'd drunk over the course of the night, and now a pint of ale too, his bladder was beginning to complain. He glanced over towards the bathroom, and grimaced at the queue that snaked out of it into the club proper. Might end up being an alleyway piss, if it came down to it. Especially after the humiliation of last time.

Was it humiliation though?

Kristian squirmed, and shot a glance down to where the front of his booty shorts was distending, tenting upward as he stiffened at the memory of his father looming over him in the bathroom, ostensibly for protection. But the way Bruno had stared at his naked, aroused son... for Kris, that had brought back a curiously specific memory of Dieter doing something very similar in the shower when they'd been fawns, shortly after the joys of self-pleasure had become known to them. He felt his decidedly blue balls clench, and precum rise along his erection to stain the front of his shorts.

"You okay, Kris?" Bruno asked.

"Huh?"

"You went awfully quiet there."

"Oh. Yeah, yeah I'm good. Sorry dad."

At that moment, both father and son had their attention grabbed by the sight of Sammael hurtling through the club, bouncing his way between patrons. He looked extremely worried, and when he finally spotted Kristian, he made a beeline for their booth.

"Sam! Are you alright? What happened?" Kris asked, leaning forward.

"Kris! Oh thank fuck you're still here."

"Of course I am, I'm on the clock! Well..." he grinned, holding up his empty beer glass.

"It's Aug, Kris. He fell in the dressing room and dislocated his shoulder. He won't be able to perform tonight."

"Oh fuck, will he be alright? How did that happen?"

"I uh... I don't know," Sam lied. "Ambulance just picked him up, he's on his way to Stillwater General. Um... Kris, he... well, Aug and the boss both said you and I will have to fill in for him, do a Heat show. Mirror strip-tease. All the way."

Kris' eyes widened, and he turned to Bruno, who looked back and forth between the two younger stags with concern. "Don't look at me kiddo, you do what you have to do! I'll leave if you'd prefer me to."

"I... n-no, it's fine dad, I... Sammael, give me a minute, alright? I'll be right there."

Sam cast Kristian a worried glance, and hovered for a moment. Kris shooed him away, and turned to Bruno. His father frowned, and placed an enormous hand on the back of Kristian's neck.

"You look extremely worried. What's wrong? You don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with, you know...it's only a job."

"I know, I know - it's not that, I um..." Kris paused and turned to glance once again at the queue for the bathroom. "I really... _really _need a piss all of a sudden. Fuck."

Bruno's lips tweaked into a knowing smile, and his eyes scanned the club briefly. They were in a particularly dark little corner. Kristian squirmed. It was one of those moments where the desperation to pee peaked seemingly out of nowhere - to Kris it was as if he was running late and had misplaced his keys. That kind of desperation. He could barely hold it. And Bruno knew.

Calmly, Bruno picked up one of the empty pint glasses on the table in front of them, and looked back and forth between it and his son.

"Dad... you can't be serious."

"Why not? Judging from the smell of this place it won't be the first time someone's done a thing like that."

Kris grunted, and hunched over himself. His hooves danced on the floor, and he clutched himself tightly. His clenched muscles stung with the effort of stemming his flow. "Fuck, I don't think I'd even make it outside..."

Bruno wiggled the glass, and then lowered it to hip height. "Don't make me go fishing," he grinned.

Kristian bleated. There was no other way, aside from just pulling it out and letting fly onto the floor under the booth. And there was no doubt he was very much _into _this idea. Desperately, he surged up onto his knees on the vinyl bench, straddling one of his father's thighs, and wrestled the waistband of his booty shorts down beneath his swollen balls. His mostly-flaccid cock bounced free, and Bruno deftly captured it with the pint glass. Kris almost collapsed with relief when he released. He huffed and snorted, and leaned heavily on Bruno's shoulder. His stream was so strong that Kris could feel splashback hitting his thighs, and Bruno had to adjust his grip on the glass so that it wouldn't be fired out of his grip.

"Wow. How much have you had to drink tonight...?" Bruno asked, quietly.

He was watching closely, eyes fixed on his son's cock as Kristian rapidly filled the pint glass with clear, foamy piss.

"I'm... not entirely sure, dad... hnnng..." Kristian shuddered, as much from arousal as from the relief he felt.

As the pint glass filled, Bruno hurriedly reached for a second. "Here, hold the full one," he instructed Kris.

The younger stag was in no position to argue. His stream was still in full-force and showed no signs of slowing yet. He took the glass of piss from his father, and Bruno grinned. Deftly, he counted Kris down to the swap. At the critical moment, Kris clenched with some effort, cutting his stream for just long enough that Bruno could position the second glass. Kris turned his head, reaching behind him to place the full pint-glass on the table. And in that moment he felt his father's touch, familiar fingers gently moving in to hold his cock. His stream faltered momentarily, and his head snapped back around to stare at Bruno. His father's eyes were dipped, both his gaze and his touch focused on Kristian's penis. Kris' balls ached, and even mid-stream he felt himself hardening. It happened quickly, and Bruno was forced to push the younger stag's penis downward to keep it within the glass.

"Anyone would think you were enjoying this," Bruno murmured.

Kris bleated quietly, but couldn't find the words to respond. There was no need. As his bladder finally emptied, almost filling the second pint-glass held in his father's hand, he clenched rhythmically to clear the pipes, causing his rapidly hardening penis to flex and jump in his father's gentle grip.

Bruno responded by moving the glass downward, and firmly milking Kristian's cock into it. Kris' last few drops were slick and stringy, as much precum as the dregs of his bladder. And when Bruno finally released his cock, it flicked stiffly upward to stare his father directly in the face. Kris leaned on his father's shoulders, breathing heavily. Bruno himself was far from flaccid, and could feel himself straining at the inside of his jeans, a distinct ridge having formed down his right leg, inches from Kristian's thigh. He was sorely tempted to grab his son's aching erection, to feel him thrust and grind into his warm palm. And he nearly did. His fingertips trailed teasingly up and down the sides of Kristian's shaft, his thumb tracing delicately around his coronal ridge. Kris flexed, and Bruno heard a quiet moan pass his lips.

"D-dad..."

"Do you want me to?" Bruno replied, his own breaths hastened with arousal.

"Dad... no... I gotta perform on stage, I need to be aroused..."

Bruno chuckled. "I don't see you having any trouble with that, even if you do want me to quickly finish you off right now."

"I... I do want you to... but... N-no, we shouldn't. I don't perform as well on-stage if I've cum right beforehand," Kris said, gradually regaining a modicum of composure.

Bruno's touch lingered on his son's raging erection for a moment longer, and then slid down to gently cup his swollen, velvety balls. "Alright, Kris. Up to you. But if you're gonna get on stage in time, you'd better go soon."

Kris nodded, and gave his penis one last flex for his father's benefit, sending a drop of precum stringing down onto Bruno's forearm. Then, as he swung off of his father's lap to pull his shorts back up, his breath caught in his throat.

There, only a few yards away and staring open-mouthed and groping his bulging crotch at the show he'd just witnessed in-full, stood Tracey.

*

Once Kristian had left to go backstage and prepare for his impromptu performance, Bruno relaxed somewhat. He could scarcely believe how risqué his relationship with Kris had become all of a sudden. But as raunchy as it was, there was a wholesome side to it, to Bruno's mind. It spoke clearly of the incomparable openness they shared, a willingness to openly discuss anything at all and have no shame or secrecy between them. And Kristian was adorable when he was flustered.

With a grin for the tiny, slender bunny boy who was still standing there like a stunned mullet staring at him, Bruno stood and made his way back to the bar for another pint of that free tap-ale. Was that guy even supposed to be in the club? He looked awfully young.

Abruptly, he turned, and collected one of the two very much warmer pints from the bench.

"Hoi, barkeep! My son Kristian got me a pint of ale before, and it... tastes a little funny. Can I exchange it?"

When he returned to the booth with a fresh drink and a grin on his face, the other of Kristian's two pints had vanished.

*

Tracey threaded his way carefully through the grinding, gyrating crowd. Even before the first of two Heat shows for the evening commenced, there was a hot and heavy air of eroticism in the tightly-packed club. And after all that had so far transpired that evening, Tracey's erection was _not _going down. The little bunny stood out for his tiny, slender stature if nothing else - but the size of his endowment certainly didn't help. More than one patron, drunk and handsy, landed a good squeeze of either his rigid bulge, or his perky ass before he even arrived at the edge of the stage.

He couldn't wait to see the Heat show. He didn't know who would be performing; he hadn't been present for any of the drama that had unfolded in the dressing room. But when the curtain drew back to reveal two very familiar, antlered silhouettes through the stage smoke, Tracey was transfixed. Was that why he'd just witnessed Kristian filling a pint glass in one of the booths...? The presence of the staff bathroom backstage crossed Tracey's mind, but he didn't have time to dwell on Kristian's reasons for that little show he'd put on.

Dirty, heavy, growling music reverberated through the club as the lights dimmed yet further, putting Kristian and Sammael at the centre of everyone's attention. Golden light highlighted their matching outfits, which at first glance seemed... quite pedestrian, for a Heat show. Business shirts, slacks and ties. But the intricately choreographed dance they launched into was anything but pedestrian.

Immediately, their bodies came together in a heated, passionate embrace, a perfect image of youthful male eroticism, of a shared need and boundless desire, before separating once more. A series of fluid, gyrating moves followed, with Sam and Kris occupying opposite halves of the stage. And then the tempo of the music picked up, and Tracey's attention was refocused intently on what would follow.

Both stags ripped off their shirts to reveal their lean, toned upper bodies, and their Velcro-secured business slacks weren't far behind. The crowd howled and hollered their approval as the two bucks were reduced to the sparkly booty shorts that were the signature of the club. Kris was right in front of Tracey at that moment, his crotch virtually at the tiny bunny's eye level, and when Tracey looked up, Kris met his gaze, and winked. His hands slid sensually down his gyrating body until they framed the achingly obvious erection in his tiny shorts, hips shoving it outward for the crowd's viewing pleasure. Indeed both he and Sam were raging hard, and given their earlier indiscretions, Tracey couldn't help but wonder if he'd had anything to do with that.

Tracey's cock throbbed in his pants. He was so hard his pants were hurting him, and he hunched over, fishing around down the front of them to try and find a position that wouldn't be so restrictive. His erection formed a lewd, painfully obvious ridge in his pants, almost all the way to his left hip.

Sam and Kris came together once again in the centre of the stage, and the show they put on - which was getting hotter by the moment - pushed the boundaries even of what was acceptable in the place like the Boys Club. They kissed passionately under the hot stage lights, their fur glistening with sweat and streaks of glimmering makeup. Their hips crashed and ground together in a flurry of shaky, eager thrusts, and it was clear from the way they fell out of sync with the music that it was real - they were both genuinely aroused. Intensely aroused. The stage lights glimmered from the pair of barely-concealed cocks straining and flexing between them, and the two stags held their position for some considerable time, frotting through their shorts.

Pulling back with a sensual wiggle of his hips, Kristian braced himself against one of the poles set into the stage, arms raised high over his head and his hooves spread wide. His hips were pushed lewdly forward, and Sammael, his butt perked out and tail flagged high, began to gyrate his way down Kristian's body until he knelt before his colleague.

Was... Sam going to blow him on stage?

_ _

Tracey could hardly contain himself. He pawed and groped at his tingling, throbbing penis through his pants, not even caring about the precum stain that was becoming more and more obvious as the minutes passed, nor about the glances and stares he was gathering from nearby patrons.

And then there it was.

Sam flicked open a pop-stud at Kristian's hip that was designed for precisely this occasion, and ripped off the younger stag's shorts to leave him fully naked on stage in front of a hundred patrons, his throbbing hard penis flicking out to slap Sam's cheek, flinging a trail of precum over his shoulder. The crowd roared, and Sam made a show of holding Kristian's balls, tugging downward on them to angle his cock straight outward, and plunged his muzzle onto it for a split second.

Kristian hunched over, and his hips shook violently. When Sam pulled back, thick strings of precum webbed from his lips to Kris' straining cock, and Kris paused for four beats of the raunchy music, gathering himself.

Did he almost cum just from that?!

_ _

Tracey was beside himself with lust. The bunny could feel his balls churning, rising up to the base of his cock. Kris mirrored the pole-and-plunge performance on Sammael, to another roar from the crowd. Seeing such an erotic show once was almost too much for Tracey. But twice?

_ _

It seemed to Tracey that Kris and Sam knew he was there, and were making sure no detail of their erotic show was missed. The sight of Kristian's bare ass, the tight pink muscle nestled between his firm cheeks catching the stage lights for a split second; the way he leaned aside when he flipped open Sam's pop-stud, causing the stag's thick, uncut penis to spring forth and stare him right in the face - Tracey felt like it was all for his benefit.

And when Kristian deftly exposed Sammael's glans with a slender hand, and plunged his pretty muzzle onto that aching rod of buckmeat that Tracey had tasted so often, it was too much for the poor teenage bunny.

He felt hot liquid rising along his cock from deep inside, and couldn't stop it.

He flipped down the waistband of his pants just in time and, with not a care for who could see, grabbed his painfully hard flesh. He barely needed to. He was already climaxing before he even got it out, a thick drool of cum flinging outward just as he freed it from his pants. But the frantic, almost violent strokes he gave it meant his orgasm _felt _intentional. Not just an accident; a humiliating stain running down his leg.

His thin, watery cum blasted forth from his glistening cock, splattering messily onto the edge of the stage three feet in front of him. He thrust his hips mindlessly through his clenched fist - relief was the only thing he could think of in that moment. The Heat show was just too much for the teenage bunny. Sammael noticed, and the two stags' erotic performance was interrupted momentarily, when Kristian, in response to Sam whispering in his ear, flipped around suddenly, confronting Tracey with not one, but two rigid, precum-drooling stag dicks. The bunny couldn't stop even if he'd wanted to. He was in his own personal heaven. The remainder of his load spritzed messily out, and half a dozen patrons all around him clapped and cheered him on, most of them just as hard as the bunny. One of them even had his dick in his hand at the show.

And then the lights went down, plunging the club into total darkness, aside from the emergency lighting. The music stopped, and all that remained was the elevated breathing, the soft moans, and several orgasmic grunts from the depths of the crowd.

*

"Fucking hell, did you _see that?" _Sammael said, as he and Kristian exited from the darkened stage, collecting their discarded clothes on the way. Both of them were still erect, breathing hard and full of adrenaline from the Heat show.

"You mean Tracey?" Kris asked. "Did he actually...?"

"He sure did. Full force. Can't say I'm surprised, that was a hot show. I'd know, I was in it."

"So modest, Sam."

"Hey, can you blame me? I'm a mirror of you, Kris. And look at you. You're a fucking stud."

Sammael rounded on Kristian, and pressed him up against the wall just outside the dressing room. Sam's cock ground wetly up alongside Kristian's, and Kris let out a shaky breath, feeling precum well up and spill over both of their spires.

"Fuck, you leak so much," Sam murmured. His lips were inches from Kristian's, and he ground his hips eagerly forward, eyes glued to Kris' aching member. "I love your dick... Do you uh, do you wanna... do something? I _need _to cum right now, and I still haven't had the pleasure of finishing you off..."

Kristian was sorely tempted.

His hand snaked down, encircling Sammael's uncut member and toying with his foreskin, brushing the fleshy hood against the underside of his own bare glans.

"Nnnh... I cum a _lot, _Sam. Like. You'd need a bath. I'm not really 'quickie' material, unless you have a really good swallow reflex."

"Oh. _Now _who's being modest, Mister Firehose?" Sam giggled, grinding wetly into Kristian's hand and taking hold of his cock in return, mashing their tips lewdly together.

The two of them hadn't even made it to a private part of the club yet - they were still in a corridor. And at that moment heavy hoofsteps could be heard approaching even over the heavy beat of the club's music.

"Okay, time to move, c'mon," Kris urged, releasing Sam's cock and pulling away.

Sammael made a plaintively horny noise, and stomped a hoof. "Are you ever gonna let me do stuff to you?"

Kris giggled, and held his bundled clothes in front of his crotch as one of the security staff, a heavyset stallion, clomped past. His eyes were glued on Sammael's bare ass, and he made no attempt to cover his nudity.

"Maybe. Not tonight though. I uh... my dad's out there, I should... really um..."

Sammael bit his lip, and idly rolled his foreskin back and forth over his glistening head. "Oh fuck. I see how it is. Don't blame you either. Mm, the things I'd let your dad do to me, _fuck _yes."

"Sam, you are _such _a slut!"

"You know it, sweetie. Alright, off you go. Maybe I'll go find Avery..."

Kristian shook his head in disbelief, and watched as Sammael wandered off, still naked, whistling to himself while the second Heat show got underway in the club behind them.

*

Bruno tipped his head back, emptying his third pint and setting the glass down on the booth table. The Heat show had been intensely erotic, and Bruno had found himself enjoying it more than was probably proper. The sight of Kristian so obviously aroused, and so pent-up he nearly lost it right there on stage in front of hundreds of eager eyes... seeing him so _into _his work was a unique feeling for Bruno.

Did he want to fuck his son? No. Was he aroused by the sight and experience of Kris doing something he was clearly enjoying, and something which very few people would ever feel comfortable with their parent seeing? Absolutely.

Technically, Kris was still on the clock when he finally emerged from the backstage area to find Bruno again. So he was still wearing the same tiny, rainbow-sparkly booty shorts he had been earlier, before the Heat show. Bruno quietly suspected that might've been for his benefit.

"Hey, kiddo. Nice show you put on there," Bruno said, when Kris slid into the booth beside him once again. He smelled strongly of sweat and arousal, and Bruno subtly breathed it in.

"I uh... thanks Dad. Guess literally everyone's seen my dick now, huh?" Kris giggled.

"They sure have. Not something you ought to be shy about, it's a nice dick. And you've done your fair share of posting it online, too."

"You... what?!"

_ _

"What, did you think I wouldn't find them? You never even cleared your history!"

Kristian spluttered, and heat rushed to his ears. "Dad, how many beers have you had?"

"A few," Bruno shrugged. "Figured I'd probably need a bit of lubricant to be comfortable watching you get deep-throated on stage."

"You didn't have to stay..."

"But I did. You're a skilled performer. Hey, I'm not here to make you uncomfortable, I just enjoy seeing you do something you're into!"

Kris leaned in and hugged Bruno, and the older stag grunted, enveloping his son in his arms.

"I know, dad. I just... still got a bit of adjusting to do to... all of this."

"Fair statement. Yesterday morning was a tiny step too far, perhaps. But hey, I won't regret it if you don't! By the way, uh... you were... spectacularly hard up there. Did you...?"

"What?"

Bruno sighed. "Did you and Sam finish each other off backstage just now?"

Kris laughed. "Oh fuck, no. I love Sam, but it's sometimes hard to tell where he's been, if you take my meaning. We... almost did, but we got interrupted."

"Huh. And I suspect the interruption bothered you more than him, right?"

"Absolutely. He wouldn't have even paused, I don't think."

"Interesting character."

"More horny than brains."

"But he's a good sort, isn't he? I don't detect any malice in him."

"Yeah, that's about his measure! But anyway. Uh. You doing alright? You're still my dad, sitting here in a gay club having just watched me do some extremely lewd things."

"Me? Oh yeah, I'm absolutely fine," Bruno hiccoughed, and suppressed a belch.

"You're a little bit drunk, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

Kris giggled, and hugged his father more tightly, resting his head on the older stag's shoulder. "I love you, dad."

"Love you too, kiddo. Uh. Careful. Don't uh... I'm a bit... full."

Bruno squirmed, and lifted Kristian's arm away from his lower abdomen.

"Oh?" Kris misconstrued, assuming Bruno meant he was erect. A glance down confirmed that he wasn't, but... the three empty pint glasses on the bench were all Bruno's. Comprehension dawned on Kris, and he felt blood surging into his penis yet again.

"Oh."

"Might need your help, there," Bruno mumbled, a slow, dirty grin spreading across his muzzle.

"You're kidding me. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"Better think quick, Kris. I'm not gonna last much longer."

"Dad!"

Bruno slouched down in the booth a little. Fumbling with the button and fly of his jeans, he calmly tugged out his junk, and then returned his arm to his son's shoulders.

"You better hold it or something, otherwise I'm gonna make one hell of a mess."

Kristian's brain turned to mush. His dad's cock was right there. He could smell it. The tip of his glans glistened with a spot of precum, and it rested on Bruno's heavy, full balls. To Kristian's horror, even as he stared, Bruno let out a sigh of relief, and a slow, leisurely dribble flowed forth, leaving a little wet spot on the leg of his jeans.

"Come on, Kris... I can't hold it!"

Kristian bleated in... was it horror? Or arousal?

His fingers closed around his father's leathery, flaccid member, and he lifted it slightly. It was heavy and warm, the skin textured and mobile in the absence of an erection. Kris' eyes flicked up to the beer glasses, and then back down again. There was no time, Bruno was already starting to release. And the angle was all wrong for filling a glass. All Kris could do was hold his dad's cock up, aiming it away from his legs. Onto the underside of the booth table, and onto the carpet beneath it...

Bruno sighed again, heavily, and leaned his head back. His flow started in earnest, and all Kristian could do was stare. His own cock was hard as granite yet again, drooling precum heavily into his tiny shorts and throbbing with need. Bruno's stream was only getting stronger, audibly drumming on the underside of the booth table and soaking the carpet beneath. Subtly, Kris altered his grip, curling his fingers around his father's penis to heft it, and pulled subtly back on the skin to brush his thumb around Bruno's corona. Bruno grinned into the darkness, and tilted his head to glance down at Kris. He was distracted, eyes glued to his flaccid member, and Bruno could clearly see the sparkly outline of his son's erection in those tiny little shorts, flexing and straining at the lycra. It was so hard he could clearly make out the shape of Kristian's glans, even in such low light.

That did it.

Slowly at first, Bruno began hardening. His stream barely faltered. But Kris could feel every pulse, every subtle throb as his heartbeat pumped blood into his cock, lengthening and thickening it, filling out that leathery shaft skin until it pulled taut, and finally giving it enough rigidity to stand proud on its own without Kris needing to hold it up. Indeed before long he needed to push it _down _to prevent Bruno's increasingly messy, weakening flow from splashing back onto them both!

All he wanted to do was plunge his muzzle down onto it. To feel his father's warm, reassuring hand on the back of his head while he swallowed every thick, rigid inch of his throbbing cock. To taste his salty musk and feel the warm pulse of his ejaculation... To feel his father empty his bladder on him. That thought caught Kris by surprise, and his own straining cock pulsed hard in his shorts.

And then Bruno's hand wandered across his thigh, those hoof-tipped fingers making slow, scratchy progress towards his son's rigid bulge. Kris shifted his hips slightly, pushing his crotch into his father's hand. Bruno growled softly in Kris' ear, squeezing his erection tightly through the slick, wet lycra and massaging it up and down against the inside of Kris' thigh. That was all it took. Kristian had been so pent up all night, so aroused on so many occasions that he couldn't do a thing to stop the floodgates from opening. Bruno's stream had stopped by that stage, leaving Kristian simply holding his father's rock hard penis in his hand, groping and feeling out its contours in the darkness. His cock strained and flexed inside his shorts, and Bruno squeezed it again, stroking back along it as Kris ground forward. The inner leg seam of Kristian's shorts slid back to expose the young stag's glans, held tight to the inside of his thigh by his father's hand.

"Fuck.... Dad..." Kris whimpered.

He convulsed violently, just once, and lurched forward. His cock spasmed rhythmically in Bruno's hand, a rapid-fire flurry of heavy pulses as he ejaculated. Cum erupted from Kristian's penis with such force that it blasted audibly against the underside of the booth table, a rhythm of lewd splatters and eager, whimpering bleats that made Bruno throb with desire.

He pushed back Kristian's leg seam higher along his cock, and took hold of his son's pulsing shaft, tenderly milking out the remainder of his impressive load onto his fingers, the booth table, the vinyl bench, and onto Kristian's leg.

Several minutes passed with silence between them. Father and son, sitting in a darkened booth in a gay club, holding each other's cocks in their hands. One spent, the other still eager. It was Bruno who finally broke the spell between them.

"Kris?"

"Nnnhh..."

"You alright, kiddo?"

Kristian blinked rapidly a few times, and glanced up at his father to nod.

"Good lad. Feels like you really needed that."

Kris nodded again, and took a deep breath.

"Shall we think about heading home, perhaps? I think the second Heat show's about done. I think you need to clock out."

"Y-yeah, I think... that's a good idea... C'mon, let's go."

"Uh, Kris?"

"Yeah?"

"You're still holding my dick."

"You're still holding mine too..."