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Devon tapped his hooves against the tile floor, ignoring the chatter which filled the fast-food join as he took a deep breath in and then out. He looked from the entrance of the restaurant down to the phone in his hand, checking the time: three o' two. He bit his lip, looked around again, and then jerked at the soft grunt from across the table and light kick against his ankle. "Dude, relax."

The whitetailed deer glanced to the leopard sitting across from him. One of his ears flicked while the tapping of his fingertips against the tabletop quickened. "I am relaxed."

An upward quirk of an eyebrow. A twitch of one corner of the leopard's lips. A flick of the feline's tail as he looked from Devon's face to the phone being clutched in both of the deer's hands, and then back up. Luka let out another quiet grunt. "He never bails on a hookup. Probably got caught in traffic."

At the mention of 'him', Devon's heart fluttered. Warmth bloomed in his cheeks, and his eyes dropped down to his phone screen once more. "Yeah, probably." He cleared his throat. "So you've, uh... with him? A lot?"

Luka graciously ignored the way his friend's voice tightened into a hoarse squeak. "Oh, yeah." The feline leaned back in the booth's bench, a grin coming to his face as he prodded his friend's hoof with his hindpaw a few more times. "He's a pretty popular guy in the community. Well-known. He always takes real good care of me..." His voice dropped into a husky murmur at that last bit, fanning the flames in the deer's cheeks and gut. "That get you excited, man?"

Excited. Anxious. Eager. A million emotions swirled through Devon's mind, pulsed in time with the beat of his heart, and arced like lightning within his gut; and further down as well, to the whitetail's embarrassment. He grunted, gave the area another surreptitious glance, and reached down to adjust himself as casually as he could.

The past few weeks had been rough on the buck. First, a massive project at work had eaten up every single ounce of his free time, and then a vacation with the family up at their cabin had ensured he wouldn't have a moment of privacy to blow off the steam which had built up; it's hard to take some 'personal time' when one must keep an eye on one's nieces and nephews. And even then, his siblings and parents all questioning whether he'd ever find a nice doe to settle down with would constantly and consistently kill any mood into which he could work himself. In short, Devon was pent up. He was needy. He was horny, and looking for a hookup who could satisfy the desires roiling in his loins.

Luckily, Luka--his college classmate turned roommate turned closest post-graduate friend--shared many of the deer's tastes in men, in sexual roles, and in kinks. They'd never really hooked up themselves, beyond the occasional handie or blowie; there was only so much a pair of submissive bottoms could do for each other, after all. However, the leopard was well-versed in the ins and outs of the kink community that flourished in the shadows of their small city. He knew what apps to install on one's phone. He knew who the best, most trustworthy tops were. And Luka, ever gracious towards his friend, had helped Devon get in touch with the one who never failed to leave the feline a panting, gasping, fully-satisfied mess.

He'd helped the deer set up a Ruttr profile. He'd helped Devon--eager, but inexperienced Devon--navigate through the many different men one could find on there. And he'd helped his friend get in contact with the hunky, muscular stag.

Devon liked to think that he and the other buck--a red deer by the name of Chris--had hit it off well. They'd started off chatting a bit, the whitetail complimenting Chris on his pics and asking about the many favorable reviews on the red deer's profile before they got down to business. Talking about what they were and weren't into. Going over how they liked things in the bedroom. Devon, the curious newbie, asking about how things would work; and Chris, the experienced one, being friendly and accommodating and informative in his explanations. In all honesty, Devon had learned more about kink-play than he'd ever even thought there was to learn. And as their conversation had flowed, and they'd begun to plan out what the both of them wanted from a hookup, the whitetail only found himself more and more eager to learn by experience.

'r u kay with being tied up? dont have to do it if it makes u uncomfy, but would be cool if u wanna try'

'yeah, I'd like to try.'

'wanna lemme tie u up n do what I want w/ u?'

'fuck yeah'

'get u beggin 2 b fucked like a doe'

'yes sir, make me ur needy doe bitch'

It had been a struggle for Devon not to jack off while lying in his bed and reading over their texts that morning. And even there, sitting across from his friend in the--very open, very public--fast-food joint sitting area, the whitetail could feel the tightness of his khaki shorts around his crotch. Almost. He'd only have to wait a little bit longer.

There was a cheery ding, and Devon's heart did a flip in his chest before diving right into the pit of his stomach. He fumbled his phone in his shaking hands while moving to check the text.

'srry im late' 'traffic' 'Im in the pking lot.'

Biting his lip and ignoring the butterfly swarm fluttering around in his belly, Devon answered. 'cool' 'Im inside, table near the back.'

'kk' 'see u in a sec.'

A gulp to wet his dry throat, and then the whitetail glanced up to meet his friend's wide grin. "He's, uh, he's here."

"Cool. Want me to stick around, or fuck off and let you two lovebirds have some alone time?" Luka chuckled as the flicking of his tail continued.

"Uh..." Once more, Devon's gaze dropped to his tapping fingers. "Can you... stick around?"

Luka's paw moved over to settle atop the buck's hand, gentle and soothing. It had been the feline who suggested that Devon and Chris meet in a public area; better safe than sorry, even if the stag was completely trustworthy. It had been the leopard who offered to drive the buck, and hang out with him until three o' clock rolled around. And it was Luka who acted as Devon's cheerleader and support as the time for the buck's first hookup in a long while arrived. "Deep breaths, man. Just relax, it's gonna be fine."

Devon nodded. He breathed in and then out. And then when the restaurant's front door dinged, he jerked and hopped up to his feet to peer at the person making his way inside.

Tall, standing a good six feet at minimum; and that was without the impressive rack of antlers crowning the stag's head. Built and muscular; wearing a tank-top which showed off his bulging pecs and biceps, and a pair of tight compression shorts that left little of his compact thighs and glutes to the imagination. Achingly handsome; his honey-brown eyes shining above the confident curve of his smile, and complimenting the deep auburn of his--slightly-sweat-matted--fur. Chris looked around the sitting area, and when those beautiful eyes of his landed on Devon, the whitetail once more felt fire flaring in his cheeks and gut.

The stag approached, the sound of his hooves clopping on the tile like thunder in Devon's ears even over the chattering of the others filling the restaurant. Closer. Closer. Looming over the smaller buck, his masculine presence practically engulfing the whitetail while Chris smiled and looked the other deer up and down. "Devon?"

A strangled squeak that almost sounded like a 'yeah'. Then he cleared his throat and tried again, forcing himself to meet the red deer's gaze. "Yes, Sir. That's me. And you're Chris..." He gulped, and his burning cheeks stretched as he gave the other buck a shy smile. "It's good to finally meet you in person." After another moment of hesitation, the whitetail held his hand out to the red deer.

"Right back at'cha." That smile bloomed into a wide and toothy grin as Chris shook Devon's hand, his grip firm and strong.

The whitetail ducked his head, his ears flicking in agitation while his eyes dropped downward. He couldn't help looking himself over, both to ensure that he was presentable and to compare himself to the stag. He knew he was smaller; a single inch under six feet, but that single inch felt like an insurmountable distance between him and the hunk towering over him. He knew he was younger; by only two or three years, but the extensive experience Chris had demonstrated during their texting still left Devon feeling like a blushing, barely-legal virgin. He wasn't exactly girly by any means--the short-cropped beard on his face and the antlers crowning his own head marked him as decidedly male--but he knew he wasn't nearly as strong, or as muscular, or as manly as the red deer; where the slim stomach peeking from under Chris' tank-top was smooth and flat, hinting at the ridges of his sculpted abs, Devon's soft tummy bulged in a short rise from under his v-neck. And he could feel the stag's eyes running over the rise and curve of his antlers, so much smaller and stubbier than the massive rack which marked Chris as a virile alpha among deer.

Devon swallowed again, peeking up at the other buck, and saw the knowing glimmer in the hunk's eyes. The same anticipation that stirred in the whitetail's belly and loins. The same lust which burned within the smaller male like an inferno.

Then those honey-brown eyes glanced to Luka--who was grinning at the sight of Devon acting like a starstruck doe--and Chris nodded to the leopard. "Hey, you. You coming with?" A chuckle. "Didn't know the plans were changing, but I think I can take care of the both of you."

"Nah, nah. Was just hanging out with Devon. Keeping him company and all that." The feline's tail flicked, and for just a moment Luka looked eager to take Chris up on that. Then he glanced over to the whitetail and tipped his friend a wink. "Thanks for the offer, but this is his show. Might take you up on it next time, though..."

Devon looked from Luka to Chris and back again. He finally caught on to what the pair was implying. He blushed, and visions of him and the feline both servicing the large, strong, virile stag standing next to him--and still holding onto the whitetail's hand--danced through his mind for a moment. Then he let out a chuckle of his own, biting his lip and ignoring a pulse in his suddenly-too-tight shorts. "Maybe..."

"Till then, I leave him in your capable hands." Luka purred to Chris, and received a laugh and ruffle between the ears in return.

"I promise to get him back to you safe and sound." Chris looked to Devon. "You ready to go?" Chris' voice came out in a smooth croon, and Devon had to try very hard not to let his jellified knees collapse underneath him.

"Yeah." The whitetail cleared his throat, his next attempt coming out much more confident. "Yeah. Lead the way."

"Have fun!" Luka's cheery voice called out from behind as the red deer led the whitetail out of the fast-food joint. Hand in hand--the pad of Chris' thumb caressing Devon's knuckles, and the smaller buck giving the stag's palm a brief and gentle squeeze in return--the pair made their way down the line of cars to the fairly-new-ish sedan parked near the middle of the lot.

A pair of quiet clicks as Chris unlocked it. A grin from the stag as he opened the door for the whitetail. A blush burning on Devon's cheeks and in his flicking ears as he sat down, settled himself in the passenger seat, and buckled up. A moment later the red deer opened and then shut the driver's side door, taking his own seat behind the wheel. "Alright. It's only about ten minutes to the apartment."

"Mmhm." Ten minutes. Ten minutes until he could start fulfilling the desires they both knew were roiling within him. Devon gulped; then he choked down a gasp and soft whimper when Chris' hand touched his knee.

"Hey... you alright?" The stag was looking at him. Gazing at him with those warm, tender eyes. Dropping his voice into a soft and soothing murmur.

"Mmhm."

Chris bit his lip, and for a moment Devon could see hesitation on the other buck's own face. "Remember what we talked about, okay?"

Devon remembered. The words he'd typed out and the words which the red deer had texted him in return blazed within his mind. He took a deep breath in, let it out, and finally met the stag's eyes with a small smile. "Yeah, I know. I'm just really nervous and... excited."

"Well, don't you worry. I'm gonna take good care of you." A quiet laugh. A flirtatious wink. A moan which leaked from the smaller buck's suddenly-slack jaws as that large hand slid higher up his leg. Higher, to his thigh. Higher, until Chris' pointer finger was nudging and caressing and running along the length of the tent in Devon's shorts. "You're hard." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, Sir." The whitetail bit his lip, hesitated for one moment more, and then took the plunge. "My doecock's so fucking hard for you, Sir."

Chris laughed, the sound not at all jeering or derisive. "Oh really? Tell me what's got your doecock so hard, fag." The word was like an arc of electricity through Devon's body; it shot down his spine and straight into the itching pit under his tail.

"You, Sir." He bucked his crotch up against Chris' palm as it cupped the whitetail's hard, pulsing bulge. "Thinking about you. Finally seeing you in person." His nostrils flared as he took a few furtive sniffs of the still air within the car's cab, and the flames within him flared higher. "...S-smelling you."

Another laugh; light and teasing, but not at all mean-spirited. "You fucking fag." Chris pulled back, leaning back in the driver's seat, and--after taking a glance through the windshield for any prying eyes--lifted the arm closest to Devon to bare the dank, damp tuft of fur which filled the pit underneath it. "Been working out for the past hour and a half, and I haven't had the chance to shower yet." The stag turned his grin to the smaller buck, wide and toothy and knowing. "Wanna take a whiff?"

"Yes, Sir. I want it so bad." Huffing. Groaning. Locking his gaze onto that tuft of damp fur as he breathed in slow and deep. It was like his nose was a piece of metal, and the stag's armpit was the most powerful magnet in the world; before he even realized what he was doing, Devon had surged forward to snuffle into that musky hollow. His nose and lips tingled with the bitter spice of sheer masculine musk which wafted from the fur and flesh, and it burned in his lungs as he filled them with the smell. Letting it stain him inside and out as he rubbed his face into it. Letting the humid fog drown his thoughts as he sniffed slow and deep.

A chuckle. A reluctant sigh. A ruffle through his hair, and then a gentle push to get Devon settled back in his seat. Chris gave the whitetail a reassuring grin while petting the smaller buck between the antlers. "Don't get yourself too worked up, fag. Save some for when we get to the bedroom."

"Y-yeah..." Devon nodded, sighed, and flicked his tongue over his lips to taste the salt of Chris' sweat still lingering on them. Then, with a flutter in his chest, he gave the stag an eager grin of his own. "Yes, Sir."

---

They'd talked about it extensively, planning out every little detail of what they wanted to do together; what Chris wanted to do to Devon, and what the whitetail wanted the red deer to do to him. The smaller male was very eager to bow to the stag's experience, and the larger one was just as eager to give the newbie an amazing first time.

'gonna pick you up after I work out' 'I'll shwer @ the gym so we can start asap'

'Actually, would you b alright w/ skipping the shower?'

'oh?'

'yeah.' 'I mean, if u don't wanna that's cool but I was thinkin it could b hot?'

'u like ur men nice and musky, huh?'

'yes sir'

'thats real fckn hot' 'sure, I'll skip the shower 4 u' 'specially if you keep calling me sir'

'can do, sir'

'u alright w/ namecalling?' 'itd just be in the play, and if you get uncomfy I'll stop'

'sure, we can try'

'alright then' 'fag' 'u want me 2 skip my shower, fag?' 'make u huff my manstink and lick my balls and cock clean?'

'fuck sir that's' 'actually really fucking hot'

Chris had been respectful. Kind. Courteous, always checking that things were alright with the other buck while they'd fantasized together. And finally, what they had planned out was finally coming to pass; all through the car ride--the two of them staying quiet while listening to the radio, having already said everything that needed to be said--Devon had felt the stag's eyes on him. He'd kept his legs spread, showing off the tent in his shorts to the larger male. And when Chris had smirked to him, and murmured out that scornful word in his purring, crooning, rumbling voice, it had been a struggle for the whitetail to not melt into a babbling puddle of lust.

At long last, the car pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex. Chris parked, turned to the smaller buck, and winked. "Stay right there, fag." And then the red deer hopped out of the car, moved around to the passenger's side, and opened Devon's door for him; Chris even offered his hand, which the whitetail took with a blush and shy smile.

Across the parking lot to the sidewalk. Up the ringing metal stairs, the clop of their hooves echoing off the concrete walls of the stairwell. Through a sturdy glass door into an interior hallway, Chris pausing to put his tenant code into the keypad next to it, and then another short walk down the hall to the stag's apartment door. All the while, the larger male kept his arm slung around the smaller buck's waist; his hand cupping, kneading, and stroking the whitetail's hip. Devon, in turn, pressed in close to the stag as though they were the only two in all the world.

'I luv bein touchy-feely' 'U okay w/ that?'

'yes sir.' 'touchy-feely is actually real good w/ me.'

'and if I grope ur little doe ass?' 'what would u do then, fag?'

'I want it' 'I want sir to grope me and touch me however he wants'

'fuck yea' 'that's a good little fag'

Devon was jerked from his reverie when he, indeed, felt that large and strong hand drop down to his flexing asscheek and give the pert mound a squeeze. Once more, the inferno in his belly and chest and groin flared high and hot while he glanced up to meet Chris' burning gaze. He smiled. He flicked his ear and ducked his head. He rocked his hips backward, pressing his rump into the stag's groping palm.

"That's a good little fag."

Devon couldn't answer the larger buck's purred-out praise; at least, not with words. However, the choked-out groan which leaked from the whitetail's slack lips seemed to be good enough for the red deer. He gave the smaller male's ass one more tender pat, and then rifled through his pocket for the keys to his apartment door. At last, Chris welcomed his guest into his abode, where Devon would be staying for an afternoon--and evening, if things went well--of pleasure.

"So!" The red deer led Devon into the main room; there was a large tv across from a comfortable-looking leather couch, a couple landscape pictures on the walls, and a long bar between the living room and the apartment's kitchenette. He rubbed the back of his head, chuckling, and looked the smaller buck up and down. "Make yourself at home. You want anything to drink, or you wanna get right to the fun?"

The whitetail cleared his throat, shifting from hoof to hoof. "Right to the fun sounds good to me, Sir. Just tell me what you want me to do, and..."

A smile. A chuckle. The stag's hands moving to Devon's hips as he moved in to stand chest-to-chest with the smaller male. Staring down into the whitetail's eyes. Locking their antlers together; Devon didn't even attempt to put up a fight as Chris pressed down, displaying his strength and dominance over the other buck. His musk, heady and spicy and virile, made the whitetail's knees weak with every slow and deep breath Devon took of it, and the red deer's sheer masculinity engulfed him utterly. "Well then... first rule in my house, faggots don't get the privilege of wearing clothes." The stag snorted, the puff of his breath against Devon's nose making him flinch and shudder and whine. "Strip."

"Yes, Sir." It wasn't a suggestion, or even an order; it was a statement of what the smaller, weaker, submissive male would do, whether he wanted to or not. And Devon's hands moved to obey that statement--to make it into reality--as he let himself fall into the depths of Chris' eyes. As he breathed in, held the hit of the larger male's scent like the dank and intoxicating drug it was, and then moaned out a coo of contentment. As he pressed in against the stag, feeling those firm pecs and abs flexing against his softer form.

Devon started with his shorts, popping the button and unzipping his fly to free the throbbing tent in his underwear. As his lower garment fell off his hips to pool around his hooves, the smaller male reluctantly pulled away from the larger one just long enough to tug his shirt up and off. He gulped to wet his dry throat, looked up to Chris while edging his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, and then pushed them down and off as well. At last, the buck was nude in front of the stag; and the larger male smirked at the sight before him.

"Well, now, aren't you the prettiest doe I've ever seen."

A brief stab of shy embarrassment, followed by a surge of heat that made the shaft--a little on the short side, but with a good bit of girth to it--rising from his crotch throb. "Thank you, Sir."

"Turn around and let me see your backside."

Again, it wasn't an order. But again, Devon's body obeyed of its own accord; he turned his back to Chris, and blushed as his tail perked up to show off the supple mounds underneath it. He felt the stag's groping hand on his ass once more, bouncing and squeezing the cheeks before tugging them apart.

"Bend over, faggot."

Devon bent over, folding himself at the waist and pushing his hips back against the stag's grip. Electricity arced up and down his spine as the red deer examined his backside; soft and plump--his months and years sitting in a computer chair turning his rump into a perfect cushion for the pushin'--while still retaining a nice pertness. The kind of ass that would drive any red-blooded buck into a lustful frenzy in rutting season on a doe; and on Devon, it seemed to be doing the exact same to Chris.

"Fuck..." Groaning. "Such a nice doe ass on such a good little fag..." Grunting. "Can't wait to get my dick in you..." Panting as his voice dropped into a husky croon. Every word stoked the flames burning in Devon's own belly and crotch, and the smaller buck could only whimper out a needy whine in return. And then there was a sound which rang through the apartment--a sharp, ringing smack--and the whitetail's eyes rolled in his head as sweet, stinging heat spread through his asscheek. "Bedroom's down the hall, fag. You walk this little tush right in and lay down on the bed." Another smack on Devon's backside was followed by a slow caress over the pillowy curve. "And you shake it for me like the needy little doe you are. You understand?"

"Yes, Sir..." His knees were trembling, threatening to collapse underneath him. His spine was shuddering. His gulping couldn't keep up with the dryness of his throat. But still, the whitetail stood up tall, pulled away from Chris' hands--with a soft, reluctant moan that widened the smirk on the red deer's muzzle--and turned to walk down the short hallway to the stag's bedroom. And as he went, swaying his ass like a model on the catwalk for the larger male following behind him, his bobbing cock dribbled in anticipation of what would soon follow.

The stag's bedroom was much like the rest of the apartment, comfortable but not overly decorated. A long dresser sat near the large bed--Devon couldn't stop his imagination from going a little wild when he saw the half-open drawer and the sturdy bars that comprised the headboard--and a few posters--bands, bodybuilders in various poses, another landscape over the squat desk to the side--on the walls. His hooves made little sound on the carpet as he trotted over to the bed, crawled onto it, and laid down on his back atop the comforter. Chris nodded his approval, gave Devon another flirtatious wink, and then began to undress as well.

His abs and pecs flexed as he pulled his tanktop up and off, exposing the mountainous peaks Devon had been fantasizing about. The bulge--the large, throbbing, virile tent--in his jockstrap bounced as it was revealed, the weighty package bobbing between the thick slabs of his thighs as he pushed his shorts down. And then the jock came off as well, and the stag's massive, muscular body was put on full display for the smaller buck.

"Ohh, Sir..."

A laugh. "You like that?" A wink. "Go on, moan again. Let me hear how much you love my muscles, fag." A flex of that chest, and the red deer's arm curled to show off the bulge of his bicep. Devon did indeed moan, and squirm, and blush as the larger male moved over to crawl atop him. Chris loomed over the smaller buck, once more driving home just how much larger and more masculine he was; that large, masculine, virile presence engulfed Devon, along with the rich smell of the stag's sweat and musk. And then their erections brushed together. Rubbed. Pressed against each other as the stag pinned Devon's hips with his own; and just like when their antlers had done the same earlier, the sheer difference in size between their malehoods left no doubt about who was the alpha.

Longer by a good, solid two or three inches. Thicker, at least slightly. Cut, much like Devon's own cock, but that only put the fat and pre-soaked glans on full display. A breeding tool, made to pump the seed in those heavy low-hangers below deep into the stag's chosen doe; and that chosen doe was Devon.

Chris smirked, slowly grinding down on the prone buck while reaching over into the half-open bedside drawer. "Be a good fag and put your arms up. Right over your head." When the whitetail obeyed, the pair shifting down the length of the bed to create plenty of space between Devon and the headboard, the red deer let out a soft laugh which made the heat in the smaller male's cheeks flare anew. "That's right. Just like that. Good girl." Every word should have been an icy dagger in Devon's chest, but purred out in Chris' quiet voice they only made the pulsing in his crotch more insistent. More needy.

Then Chris pulled out the handcuffs. Devon watched the glimmering metal device--with padding on the inside of the cuffs themselves, of course--as the stag brought it up, wrapping the chain around one of the bars above the whitetail's antlers. The smaller male grunted and flinched when he felt one wrist and then the other being locked into those cuffs' firm embrace. At last, with the whitetail trapped and at his mercy, the red deer sat back between Devon's spread legs; and at last, the mask slipped just the slightest bit.

Chris cleared his throat. He patted Devon's chest. He gazed into the smaller buck's eyes. "Green?" The word tickled the back of the whitetail's mind as he recalled their planning and chatting the night before.

'could let u try out being cuffed 2 the bed b4 we do other stuff' 'get u folded over and ur legs tied up nice and tight' 'u won't b able 2 move, so u'll need to let me know if u wanna stop anything.'

'how?'

'safe words I always use are traffic lights' 'green=go, everything's good' 'yellow=slow, we need to check in w/ each other' 'red=stop right tf now'

'makes sense to me.'

'u wanna try blindfold and/or gag?'

'sure!' 'never did anything like that, but sounds fun!'

'IF we do anything w/ gags, snap ur fingers 1 time 4 yellow, 2 times 4 red' 'alright?'

'yes, Sir'

'ur gonna b in complete control of this, Devon' 'whatever u say goes, okay?' 'otherwise...' 'wanna lemme tie u up n do what I want w/ u?'

Devon grunted. He shifted upon the soft comforter below him, and gave the handcuffs affixing his arms above his head a quick tug. He took a deep breath, met the stag's eyes, and nodded with a small smile. "Green."

The mask slipped back into place. The stag looming over him let out a chuckle and cupped Devon's burning cheek. "Good little fag." The red deer's thumb traced over the whitetail's lips, and the larger male let out a groan of approval when the smaller one began to suckle upon it. The digit pushed in deeper to probe Devon's mouth--running along his gums and teeth before pressing against the buck's wriggling tongue--while Chris' other hand dropped to Devon's chest.

Tweaking one of the buck's nipples, and then the other. Brushing over the soft and padded expanse of the smaller male's belly. Wrapping around Devon's dribbling erection to give it a careful, possessive squeeze. And there was nothing the whitetail could do to stop the red deer; Devon could only lie back and let the bigger, stronger, more masculine alpha-stag do whatever he pleased.

Finally, Chris' thumb popped free of Devon's mouth, leaving the whitetail panting. "I think you need to see a real male's cock up close and personal. That sound good, fag?"

A moan. A whimper. A gulp, and a nod. "Please, Sir..."

"'Please' what, fag?"

Devon's hips bucked as the fluttering in his gut and chest grew unbearable. "Show me your cock, Sir. Up close. I want to see it, and taste it, and..." He bit his lip, ducking his head and hunching his shoulders as much as the cuffs would allow him to.

Chris' hand on his cheek soothed away the hot embarrassment, even as it lifted his face back up to make him meet the stag's burning gaze. "And...?" A snort, dominant and expectant and impatient.

"S-smell it, Sir." The floodgates opened, and the whitetail ground his flushed cheek on the red deer's palm as his desires spilled out from his clenching throat. "I want to huff your manly musk, Sir. I want it smeared all over my face. I want you to m-mark me with it, so... so everyone will know that I'm your faggot. Y-your doe..."

That stroking hand moved up to ruffle through Devon's hair, settling atop the whitetail's head right between his antlers. "So that's what you want, huh?" A chuckle. "Well, since you asked so nicely..." He shifted on the bed, grunted, and then turned himself around and moved to crawl over the prone, bound buck's head. Carefully settling his knees on either side of the smaller male's neck. Letting his erection--the massive pillar of malehood rising like a monolith from his crotch--bat against Devon's flushed cheeks and sniffing nose. "Go on, fag. Take a whiff. Have a taste. Show me how much you need it."

There was nothing Devon could do, even if he wanted to. And so, the buck obeyed.

Rubbing his snout along that pulsing length, feeling the weight and girth of it on his muzzle. Pressing his nose into the dank crannies at its base to sample Chris' rich and heady musk straight from the source. Letting his jaw fall slack, and pushing his tongue out to drag it up and down the shaft. Like a starving man indulging in the most decadent meal of his life, or a pious acolyte kneeling before the throne of a mighty and powerful god, Devon began to lick and kiss and worship that pillar of malehood. Every flick of his wriggling oral muscle against it made it jump as the stag hovering over him crooned his approval. The taste of it filled his mouth as he latched onto the tip for a moment, suckling down the larger male's salty-sweet precum, and the scent of it roiled like a cloying fog in his lungs with every breath.

But then he moved down. Down the shaft. Down to the tufts of fur rising like a humid forest from Chris' groin. If the stag ordered it, he would've pressed into the dank pit of the red deer's taint; up into that cleft hovering before his eyes to sample the darker, richer, headier scent wafting from between those rock-solid asscheeks to tingle in and burn his nostrils. But instead, Devon's gracious alpha allowed the whitetail to focus on what he'd been dreaming about since they'd first shared nudes: the stag's ballsack.

Large. Heavy. Swaying between the firm slabs of Chris' thighs with every buck and rock of the larger male's hips. Cock was good, Devon loved cock; the feeling of it on his cheeks and lips and sinking into him from either end, he didn't care which. But balls were something else entirely. The seat of a man's masculinity, the receptacles of his seed and the origin of his virility. He kissed both of the firm orbs in turn, and then swirled his tongue all over the velvety sack while sucking the sweat and musk out of the fur coating it.

"Ah, fuck yeah. Love my balls, don't you, fag."

It wasn't a question, but still Devon answered as his mind swam through the hazy fog of lust. "Yes, Sir." A kiss to the stag's inner thighs. "I love them." He opened his mouth wide to take Chris' balls into his mouth, rolling them on his tongue and working his lips against the flesh of the sack. "I fucking love your fat alpha-stag balls, Sir."

"Want them in your face while I fuck your throat, fag?"

"Mmg..."

"Wanna feel me pumping my loads down your faggot throat?"

"Hahh... fuck yes, Sir."

"What do you say, then?"

"Please. Please please please..." The smaller buck whined, and whimpered, and begged for it as he coated those massive orbs with his saliva and then suckled them clean, gulping down every bit of sweat and smut he could from them. He let out a desolated moan when they pulled away from his mouth, moving up to hover like tantalizing fruits before him; but then the head of Chris' cock slipped between his slack jaws once more, and the buck groaned in bliss as that shaft began to slide into his throat.

Deeper. Deeper. Pulling back to soak his tongue with pre, and then pushing in deeper. At last, those alpha-stag balls settled onto the bridge of his nose; he could feel the weight of them, and was eager to feel them smothering him under the larger male's testosterone-laden virility. At last, the red deer managed to hilt his long, thick, alpha-stag erection into the clenching passage of his doe's throat; he craned his neck to look over his shoulder to Devon, staring into the buck's blissful eyes before glancing to his partner's cuffed hands. At last, Chris began to rock and buck his hips; he began to fuck his faggot's face.

In, and then out. In, and then out. Pushing into that wet, tight, hot passage, rubbing and grinding and bouncing his hefty balls on his partner's nose and forehead, and then pulling out to do it all over again. The chorus of hard, rough, raunchy sex filled the air; muffled gurgling and groaning from Devon, and crooning moans of roiling pleasure from Chris. Were his hands free, the whitetail would have grasped those flexing glutes to pull the stag's groin down onto his face to stay there. Perhaps for minutes. Perhaps for hours. Perhaps until the scent and weight and sheer masculinity of the larger male snuffed out the last of his floundering thoughts for good. As it stood, however, Devon could do nothing but ride out the waves of pleasure crashing through him while Chris used his mouth and throat like a pocket pussy.

In and out, in and out, in and then pulling out to grind that saliva-coated member on the smaller buck's flushed cheeks. "Green?"

"Guh..." It took a moment for Devon to get both his scattered thoughts and his lolling tongue back into place to answer. "G-green..."

A nod. A deep breath in and then out. A grin. "You ready to move on to the real fun?"

The warmth that had suffused the buck's body condensed into his gut once more; a roiling cloud of anticipation which sent lightning strikes of alternating embarrassment and eagerness up and down his trembling spine. "Yes, Sir."

Chris crawled off of Devon, and the whitetail was left to lay on the bed in a shuddering and gasping heap for a moment while the red deer rifled through the bedside drawer again. He looked down at his neglected erection, the short-but-thick shaft twitching with overwhelming need against his belly, and gave the cuffs holding his arms above his head another tug. As the flood of sensation and arousal which had engulfed his mind receded, he took in the full extent of his predicament. Bound. Helpless. Turned into a toy for another man's--a larger, stronger alpha male's--pleasure.

It was the hottest experience of the whitetail's life.

"What's the matter, fag?" The bed shifted as the red deer moved down between the smaller male's legs once more. Chris laughed, low and rumbling like approaching thunder, as he looked the bound buck up and down. "Want me to take care of that little doe dick of yours?"

The whimper that leaked from between Devon's pursed lips would indeed have put a doe in heat to shame; and that fact only stoked the inferno in his cheeks and belly and crotch. "Please, Sir. I'm so hard for you..."

"Shh. Just relax, faggot..." Hands grasping his ankles. Another groan--high-pitched and embarrassingly-feminine--as his legs were lifted up and brought over his head as well. Padded metal clamping around his ankles, keeping him splayed and displayed in full for the other male. And then Chris held up the second object he'd pulled free from the drawer's depths; a large handkerchief folded up into a blindfold. "Green?"

"Mmf." Tugging at his bindings. Panting and gasping from the sensations still sending aftershocks through him. Peering up at the stag who loomed over him. "Green."

Devon's heart pounded in his chest--sending yet more pulses and throbs through the twitching length of his iron-hard erection--as the blindfold was wrapped around his head, and the world was smothered in darkness. He was truly helpless, unable to see or resist whatever the stag had in mind for him; even if the knowledge that it would all come to a stop with a few snaps of his fingers lingered in the back of his mind, smothered in the fog of mingled anxiety and arousal.

He felt a brush of fingertips over his chest, teasing through the fur and flicking at one of his pert, plumped-up nipples, and a whine leaked from his slack jaws. "Come on, don't be shy." Rough hands grasped his thighs, squeezing and kneading and making his breath hitch in his throat. "Moan, faggot. Show me how much you love it." The words were accompanied by a puff of breath right against the tender, sweetly-itching ring under his roiling balls and flushed taint; his asshole, clenching and winking in eager anticipation.

Devon moaned. His breath hitched in his throat with every pulse of sweet fire and growing pressure through his gut and groin, but it was only a momentary interruption to his crooning song of need. Every touch, every tickle against his fur, every bit of contact sent sparks through his flesh and fur; made all the more intense with the loss of his sight, sharpening his other senses.

And when he felt something hot, wet, and wriggling--the stag's tongue--press against his pucker, all words left him. He could barely breathe. He could scarcely think. All Devon could do was ride out the surging waves of sensation crashing through his lower body. A flicker against his clenching ring, the touch so light and teasing it almost seemed to be imagined. Air rushing over his taint and the back of his ballsack as the larger male took a deep, appreciative sniff of him, and then a puff of humidity right on his hole. Hands kneading the muscles of his thighs, squeezing in time with his huffing and whining and panting; and then that hot and wet and wriggling thing broke through his resistance, and delved deep into him.

Pressure gathering in his balls, and deep inside the flushed pit behind them. His flagging cock jumping back to full erection, and sending a splatter of wet heat across his folded stomach and heaving chest. His jaw going slack and his tongue hanging loose as his mind sank into the deep mire of pleasure filling his head. Overfilling his head. Making it bob and sway with drunken heaviness as he did his best to flounder through the surging tide.

In, and then out. In, and then out. Delving deep into him, swirling around as best it could in his burning passage, and then pulling out to lap at the tingling rim of his entrance. Chris' lips and tongue worked his backside over, and in the face of the stag's skill and experience all Devon could do was cling to what shards of thought he could. It felt so good. He'd been needing something like this so bad. He was at the stud's mercy, and he loved it so fucking much.

Then that godlike tongue pulled away from him, and the smaller male could only buck his hips and let out a mournful wail at its loss. The teasing and delving had only left his hole aching all the harder for something larger to fill it. From far away through the fog, sound and sensation reached the buck once more; Chris patted Devon's rump and let out a breathless laugh. "You're drooling, faggot."

"Guh..." Were his mind not lost to the depths of pleasure and arousal, he might've felt a brief stab of embarrassment at that.

"You like me eating your little pussy out?"

"Yuh..." His head bobbed up and down.

"Then I know you're gonna love this..."

He could feel the covers shifting and hear the bed creaking with the larger male's movement. To his left he heard the sound of the bedside drawer being pulled open a little further, and then a brief rustling. A crinkling and tearing. Shuffling, the sound of a plastic cap popping open, and the squelching of something thick and goopy. Every sound from outside his prison of sightlessness made his breath quicken; and then he jumped when something made of soft material which stank of ball sweat and cock grease was pressed onto his nose.

"Here, take a deep breath, fag. Suck on this while I fuck you. Should help with the drooling."

Elastic bands were wrapped around the back of his head and tied into a knot, settling what Devon quickly recognized as the pouch of Chris' discarded jock onto his muzzle. The buck breathed deep, in and then out, and once more the rich smell of masculine musk burned in his lungs. And when he opened his mouth to lick and suck on the stained cotton, the flavor of alpha-stag malehood filled his mouth all over again. Breathtaking. Mouthwatering. Gulped down with a ravenous whine.

"There you go, good faggot. Now..." One hand on his ankle, right above--under in his position--the cuffs keeping them lifted and splayed. Movement on the bed right below his ass. And then something hot and wet--not wriggling, but hard and pulsing--pressed against his slickened and stretched-out hole. "Ready to cum like a doe on a real male's dick?"

"Nngh!" Squirming. Writhing. Bucking upward against the contact of Chris' lube-and-condom-coated-cock against his itching, twitching, needy pussy. Devon's head bobbed up and down in desperation. He wanted it. He was ready for it.

And when it finally happened--when the stag pushed forward, sinking his virile erection deep into the smaller male's back passage--Devon found himself learning the true meaning of pleasure.

That pressure within him returned, growing greater and greater with every brush of that thick shaft against the red-hot coal buried in his inner walls; the hard, throbbing, overstimulated bud of his prostate. He could feel every inch of his rectum tingling as the stag's length slid into it, finally scratching the maddening itch within him. The feeling of being stretched open after spending so much time in forced abstinence made the whitetail gasp and sob as Chris hilted in him, the red deer's manhood a key in his tight-clenching lock.

"Green?"

He could have snapped his fingers once or twice. There was nothing preventing him from doing so, despite the binding of his limbs. And even with the fabric of Chris' sweaty jock in his suckling mouth, Devon wasn't gagged to the point of being prevented from speaking; he could easily say one of the two words which would bring everything to a crashing halt. But there was nothing the whitetail wanted more than for the ride to continue to its end. "Guh... ngh... hahh..." His lips and tongue worked, and he fumbled the shards of his thoughts into order. "Green..."

A huff. Movement over him. Pressure--a gentle kiss--right between his antlers. And then, at last, the alpha-stag began to rut his doe.

In, and then out. In, and then out. In, grinding those full and heavy balls right onto the base of his tail, and then out to tease his clamping ring with a few saw-like jabs through it. Every thrust of the larger male's cock forced the breath out of the whitetail's lungs; which, of course, allowed him to fill them once more with musk huffed right off the red deer's jock. The slamming of those powerful hips against his rump made Devon's heart flutter in his chest and his own neglected shaft bat against his belly. The burning and aching in his joints was washed away by the raging storm of pleasure within him, lightning strikes deep in his guts sending jolts of electricity along his straining length and up and down his spine.

In and out. Again and again. Faster and harder and deeper, until the buck's entire world narrowed down to the tightening spring inside of him. Every sound, every scent, every taste, every sensation and thought was swept away. There was only the pressure. The winding. The clenching of his entire being around the larger, stronger, more virile male's cock; and then, the release.

White-hot flashing in his brain. A muffled, ragged scream from far away. A rushing tide which engulfed his very being as he came harder than he ever had in his life. It slammed into him like a freight train, shattered everything that he was, and left him a panting and drooling and insensate mess.

---

Far away, as though it was happening to someone else entirely, Devon felt himself being untied. First the cuffs around his ankles were unlatched and his legs were eased down onto the bed, and then his arms were released and relaxed as well. The jockstrap wrapped around his snout was almost pulled away, but he whined and shook his head; and so it stayed in place, still filling every breath with the pure scent of masculinity. A voice murmured something quiet and soothing into his flicking ear, and then the blindfold across his eyes was loosened and tugged off.

"Ngh..." The buck clenched his eyes shut; after so long in total darkness, even the low and intimate lighting of Chris' bedroom was like a hot poker being stabbed into them.

"Shh, shh. I know. I warned you." The admonishment was as gentle as the arms which wrapped around him and settled him against something large, warm, and soft; soft and yet firm, rising and falling in a slow and steady rhythm.

Devon pressed himself into Chris' side, moaning as he felt the stag's hand stroking up and down his aching back; and blushing as the shifting of his lower body made the whitetail fully aware of the stinging heat which lingered under his tail. More heat--wet and sticky--smeared over his stomach and chest, and the smaller buck looked down to the mess he'd made of himself when he'd cum.

"Fuck..."

"Easy now. Easy." More soothing words and gentle caressing. "You alright?"

"Fuck yeah. That was..." Amazing. Wonderful. The best sex he'd ever had. All were true, and yet none came close to describing what the whitetail had just experienced. "...Wow..."

A soft laugh from above brought a new sting--embarrassment--to his sore cheeks, but a nuzzle against his temple assuaged it almost immediately. "Yeah. That was pretty fucking 'wow', alright." Devon's new pillow rose and then fell as the larger male took a deep breath in and then out. "You need anything? A drink of water, maybe? I could rub your ankles or your wrists or anything else that's sore."

"Mm." It was a struggle through the warm and comfortable and pleasurable fog which filled his mind, but eventually the whitetail gathered up enough shards of thought to give a coherent answer. "Water would be good. And I love your hands on me, please rub whatever. But can we just... stay like this for a bit?" He rubbed his cheek onto Chris' pectoral, and then tipped his head to peek up at the red deer.

A smile, warm and tender. A wink, both companionable and flirtatious. A rumbling laugh like distant thunder heard from the comfort of one's bed. The larger male pulled the smaller one up to lie atop him, and those massaging hands moved down to brush over Devon's cum-soaked belly and trembling thighs. "Sure, man." The stag's large, plump shaft and full--though not quite so full anymore--balls pressed right up against the buck's rump; and as Chris let out another quiet croon, Devon felt the pulsing malehood stir once more. "Wanna take a breather to recuperate, and then get set up for round two?"

Devon snuffled into the fur coating Chris' broad and firm chest, breathing in the scent of fresh sweat and masculinity. He let out a soft moan as the stag's massaging hands soothed the aching joints of his hips. And when a few adventurous fingertips brushed against the whitetail's own emptied ballsack, he cooed and whined and felt the roiling already starting back up within it.

The doe looked up to the alpha-stag, smiled, and nodded. "Yes, Sir."