FSE

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Max gripped the guitar in his hands, strumming his way through the final bridge. The songs blended shortly after the first song of their set; normal for their performances, lasting all the way to the last song. A side effect of the exhilaration of public performance, something Max always thought since his days in high school orchestra. His antlers bobbed gently with the rhythm set by the bassist and drummer. This period, where songs didn't seem to start or end, Max always felt in complete synch with his friends, the performance more of instinct than memorization. Their solid control opposed the swarm of colorless and genderless bodies that writhed before the small stage.

Max shook a drop of sweat from his brow, the long, dyed green tendrils flying back and plastering to his brown ears. The thin deer on stage stomped back up to the microphone, his feet added sharp percussive backbeats to the currently sparse syncopation the otter drummed. With a flick of his ears, Max began screaming the final chorus, his fingers migrating into the simple chords forming the song's outro. A smile began to form on his short muzzle as he reached for the final few lyrics in the song. Max grinded his guitar covered crotch into the back of his instrument, screaming the final syllable. He turned sideways, then, his head bowing in determination causing snakelike shadows to dance around the audience as the swinging and circling stage lights hit Max's antlers.

The deer's fingers began the furious journey through the last riff in the song, picking at the metallic strings that burned from the intensity of their frantic set. Max caught they eye of the fox plucking at the bass and with a discernable nod he led the trio through the final measures of the song, straight into an abrupt silence and darkness.

"What do you guys think we should play for an encore? Ours or a cover?"

The only lights backstage were dim and both the stage lights and the house lights remained off. As it was, Max figured they probably only had five minutes before the lights were turned back on, and precious seconds before the patience of the crowd vanished.

"Cover," both voices echoed as the otter and fox emerged from the dark.

"We've made them sit through out shit for twenty minutes, lets give them something actually worth cheering for," the fox grinned, placing his arm around the otter's shoulders.

"What about some pre-punk New Wave stuff? Like the ' Heads, or Bowie?" the otter suggested, his arm slinking around the fox's slim waist with a slight shift in his tail that caught Max's eye.

The fox snorted, rubbing the otter's pudgy stomach. "Sorry Jay, but I don't think this is the place to bust out your music culture crap."

"Well, Tristan, you have anything better?" Max asked, sliding closer to the pair.

Tristan dropped his arm from Jay's shoulder, folding them across his chest. Jay's shoulders slumped as Tristan's touch withdrew, receding back from his place next to the fox. "Nothing specific, but thinking something more contemporary."

The otter shrugged off his previous disappointment, practically jumping forward and gripping Tristan's right arm. "Why not stick in genre?"

Once again, Tristan declared his disagreement, this time with a shake of his head. "May have worked back home, but this is a general punk venue... we want to make sure they know the song, that's the whole point of playing a cover."

"Then what about SK?" Max suggested, flicking a strand of sweaty hair from his forehead.

The fox and otter nodded in agreement. With the sudden drop in conversation, a collection of voices was raised. "We'd better get back out there, how's my make-up?"

Jay and Tristan squinted at the taller deer. "Can't see too well," Jay mumbled.

"Looks like the eyeliner and mascara aren't running too badly... jeez, you can be such a doe sometimes," Tristan teased.

Max punched the fox lightly as he followed the pair back out on to the stage.

The stage lights sparked back on and Max sighed as he felt the familiar weight of his guitar. He approached his mic slowly, his ears twitching to hear the quiet notes coming from the amp. Every couple of notes his hands would turn a knob, either adjusting the tone on the body or the tuning on the head. Max looked up and out into the crowd. "Thank you all for putting up with us tonight," Max high tenor cutting through the raucous crowd with help of the mic. "We just ask you to sit tight for another four minutes for one last song. Over to my left, the cute fox with purple hair you've seen playing bass all set," Tristan looked up from tuning his guitar. "Is Tristan and he will be switching over and playing lead guitar on this last song. Our fat dru-," Max was interrupted as one of Jay's brush sticks nicked his antlers and spun off into the audience, "our adorable otter drummer is Jason. I'm Max, and we're umm... Something Queer. Our last song is Sleater Kinney's "The Fox."

With his speech over Max turned back to his band and with nods of confirmation they simultaneous entered into their last song.

"Wanna have some drinks when we get back to the hotel?" Tristan asked, wrapping his arms around Max's shoulders from behind.

Max shrugged underneath the small fox, looking into the dressing room mirror, fiddling with a bit of mascara and tissue. "You have some? Not the overpriced minibar crap?" he asked his eyes shifting from his own face to the fox in the mirror.

"Sure, sure," Tristan replied while nibbling on his lip ring.

Tristan slid his muzzle along Max's shoulder until his lip ring brushed against the metal loops in the deer's ear. He blew playfully into Max's ear, the ear twitching and clanging against Tristan's muzzle. Max half slapped and half shooed the fox off with a wave of his hand. The fox let his arms slide off Max's shoulders as he took a few steps back. Max's grey eyes followed his movements in the mirror before returning to the clean up and reapplication of make-up.

Tristan approached Jay, pulling the fading Pixies' tee over his head. The shirt landed over in the corner on top of the fox's duffle bag. He stood in front of the otter, his paws sliding onto either side of Jay's slightly chubby stomach. "What about you, Jay? Care to join me and the doe for some drinks?" Tristan asked, grinning eyelevel with the otter.

Jay shivered at the touch and relaxed with Tristan's paws. His eyes shifted from the white fur of Tristan's bare chest over to Max's corner. Max's head was tilted away from the mirror, glaring back at the pair. The otter moved ever so slightly out of the deer's line of sight, squaring himself with Tristan in between.

"I do have antlers you know," Max said, flatly, gesturing at Tristan with his antlers.

"Oh we know!" exclaimed Tristan as he turned around, waving at a small black bag on the counter in front of Max, "You file them before every show!"

One of those files went whizzing past Tristan's muzzle and clanged harmlessly against the wall, causing Jay to jump and press against the fox's back. Relaxing, Jay sighed and slung the bag at his feet over his shoulder. "Can you guys please hurry up?"

"I'm almost done, would be quicker if that nuisance weren't here," Max said, turning and giving the otter a grin and a wink.

Max turned back around and looked into the mirror again. As he dabbed at his light brown fur with a damp cloth, the deer caught movement in the corner of his eye. Glancing up he saw Tristan's tail swishing in a curious snakelike fashion. The fox's hips soon followed with a few little wiggles. Suddenly, Max was left with a glaring view of Tristan's skinny naked ass, his tight jeans discarded in a rumpled pile on the floor. Max sighed and rested his forehead on a hand as he watched the rearview of whatever show Jay was currently receiving from the fox. The deer, for the most part, remained silent as he saw Jay slink towards the door slowly, his dark cheek fur tinged with a hint of red; all the while his eyes fixed on an invisible point, most probably the fox's sheath. Despite his obvious embarrassment, more from the unknown sexual nature of Tristan's show than the nudity, Jay still had a wide smile.

The door closed with a quiet rattle. Tristan turned, his muzzle opened in a wide grin with his paws firmly on his hips. "Guess that won't work, now," Tristan tittered, his grin not receding, "My eyes are up here Maxxie."

Max flinched at hearing his undesired nickname. Truthfully, his eyes had been focused on something other than Tristan's blue eyes, but that was more due to the stark white sheath and the half an inch crimson protrusion that drew his attention.

Grinning, Max turned in his chair and stood in front of Tristan. Between the two of them, Max was a head taller, not including his antlers, which added another half a foot. With the wispy grin, Max brushed Tristan's cheek fur gently. Tristan's head tilted up slightly, his gaze moving to Max's eyes while his muzzle unconsciously parted. Max leaned in until his nose was mere millimeters away from Tristan's. Slowly, Max began to slide down Tristan's body, his hands stroking through the red fur of his sides and the white fur of his chest. The deer came to rest on his knees, eyelevel with the fox's white sheath. There was now three quarters of an inch of red poking out of the fuzzy encasement. Max's hands kneaded the back of Tristan's upper thighs and ass, feeling the miniscule layer of muscle underneath the mostly red fur. For a moment, Max grinned and his eyes shifted up to look at Tristan. The fox's eyes were clenched shut; his muzzle parted slightly, his breathing heavier. An unfamiliar weight pressed down on Max from above as Tristan's paws encircled the finely kempt antlers. Smirking to himself and unbeknownst to the fox, Max stuck his hand into his bag and rummaged for the plastic encased cigarette pack. With a quick movement of his other hand, the heady smell of soap and fox musk was replaced by another scent.

The fox let out a mild cough as the smoke from Max's cigarette drifted the three feet up to the fox's open muzzle. Tristan shook his head and opened his eyes to stare down at the deer whose antlers he was still holding. Max exhaled a long thick stream of smoke directly on to Tristan's engorged sheath. The cigarette smell made Tristan's nose wrinkle and he backed away, releasing Max's antlers and fanning the smoke away from his crotch. "Fine, I get it. I'll leave you to it then," the fox grumbled, "If I get laid tonight and someone complains about my cock smelling like cigarettes I will come find you..."

Max could hear more muttering from the fox, but it was far too muddled to discern much. He could guess, though. With a sigh and another drag on his cigarette, Max rose from his knees and landed placidly on stool. Tristan was dragging his jeans across the room to his bag and pulled out a pair of glossy black bikini briefs. They were something Max had seen the fox in before, although his stage get up never did involve any undergarments. Max leaned back on the counter, pulling his ankle up on to the opposite knee, and whistled as Tristan began pulling the skimpy brief up his legs. Tristan turned his head and glared at Max, sticking his tongue out. The deer simply scoffed, letting out a puff of bluish gray smoke as the fox dressed himself quickly and left the changing room.

The long rectangular room was now empty and Max let the cigarette rest in the venue provided ashtray. He leaned back a bit, arching his back until it cracked, releasing a wave of post-performance strain. Focusing on the mirror, Max checked to make sure all his makeup was removed; all his fur back to shades of brown. He took a second to study his face and antlers, making sure he was fit for going out in public. The antlers were filed down to remain at a short and stubby three-point height. They had begun to heal and soon they would need to be filed down again, otherwise it would become a nightmare to trim.

Max sighed and pulled the tight black tank top off. The buck continued pulling the clothes off his body, letting the paint smeared jean shorts wiggle off his hips and fall to the ground. He pulled out a small scent bottle, spraying his underarms, lower abdomen, and his tail to mask scents of the sweat and dirt from the grime building performance. Max pulled on an off-white collared shirt and black denim pants that fitted his waist, but remained loose down his legs. All in all, aside from the metal laden ears and hair, Max would be relatively unnoticeable out on the street. Checking the mirror as he shoved his performance clothes in to the small duffle, Max ran his fingers through his long spiky bangs and straightened up. Picking up the slowly smoldering cigarette, he closed his eyes and took a final deep drag. He relaxed his shoulders and slumped slightly, letting the smoke flow out in complete relaxation. The buck shouldered his bag, grasped the guitar case in hand, and stubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray. A second later the dressing room door banged shut.

Tristan tipped the bottle as he poured the next round into the plastic cups from the motel bathroom. The bottle of vodka sloshed as the four shot inebriated fox sat it heavily on the circle of perspiration it had sat in since they had retrieved it from the freezer. Each musician took their cup in hand and poised them in front of their chests, looking around at each other. "Okay, I got one... guilty pleasure," Tristan announced, turning to Max.

"New Pornographers," the deer responded angling his head to the fox, eyes glinting.

"Arcade Fire," Tristan said settling back into the desk chair.

"Lauper," the otter finished, eyes downcast.

"Okay," Tristan managed in between fits of giggles as Max bent over the small table laughing, "I think you'd better take that shot and down it chubotta."

Jay brought the cup up to his muzzle and began to tilt it back, but then set it firmly down on the table. He shifted on the bed, his back arching as leaned against the table. "Why? She's classic New Wave 80's pop with a pro-gay agenda. What makes her guiltier than the formulaic indie pop of Porn or the conceited pretentious Canadian rock?"

"Well," Max began, leaning forward and staring emotionless into Jay's eyes, "Despite the... arguably formulaic nature of Pornographers, Neko Case adds an alternative country edge into the traditional rock vocals."

"And," Tristan continued, "While they certainly may be pretentious, they earned it by proving indie can be popular... meanwhile... Lauper..."

"Is about as gay as you can guiltily get!" Max and Tristan laughed in unison.

"Pretentious pricks!" Jay answered his stubby muzzle contorting in a scowl of displeasure.

When Jay still did not make a move to down his shot, his paws clenched in interlocking fists around the paper cup, Tristan lurched forward in the chair and swayed to his feet. "Had enough?" the fox asked as he side stepped his way around the table, "Or did you have something else in mind to do with pretentious pricks?"

Jay shivered slightly, his fur bristling embarrassedly as Tristan placed a paw on his shoulder. "Not rea..." Jay began, bringing the cup to his muzzle.

Before he could finish and drink the shot, Tristan had intercepted. The fox had leant in and taken the shot before the frazzled otter had the chance. His muzzle burned slightly as Tristan kept the liquid swirling around his tongue. Max watched on in bemused silence as Tristan shakily steadied himself on Jay's shoulder and used his other paw to force their muzzles together. The paw quickly travelled down below the table as Tristan swirled his tongue around Jay's mouth, allowing the burning liquid to flow from his tongue to the otter's. There was a sharp squeak and a shove, and suddenly the table was shaking from where Tristan's paw hit. However, the otter was no longer within his grasp. Max turned and looked for the vanished otter, his eyes coming to rest on a highly embarrassed and spluttering Jay standing on the other side of the room. Without even thinking of an explanation as to how a chubby and drunk otter could have made that move so quickly, his eyes dropped to Jay's paws. The otter's paws were fast working at stuffing what Max figured to be close to a full hard otter cock back into his jeans. He licked his lips a bit as he watched the otter try frantically to get his balls and sheath tucked away, enjoying the sight without being noticed. When the fly went up, Max let out a soft sigh of disappointment, which was nothing next to the fox's loud protests or the slamming of the door as the spluttering otter excused himself. With a giggle, Tristan turned to Max and the deer muffled his own chuckle with his hands. "Have you seen him move that fast? Ever?" Tristan asked, his tone thick with surprise, "Where does he even plan on going?"

With a gleeful flick of his ears, Max's eyes darted to the counter by the television. "He can keep a pretty fast tempo, and I think he moved even faster than you think he did. You're just not ready for them to get up and bolt once you've got your claws in."

Scoffing softly, Tristan collapsed on to the bed. He lifted his full cup up in front of Max, "To Jay's quickness, at least he is a slow fat otter in bed!"

"Here, here," Max heralded, mirroring Tristan's gesture with his own vodka container, "And here's to you, fastest paws in the west! Err.... East, or wherever the fuck we are."

The pair raised their cups and downed them simultaneously. With a sigh, the fox leaned forward and lazily grabbed the vodka bottle.

"Haven't had enough yet?" Max asked lazily, leaning back and stretching his arms over his head.

His heavy limbs cracked and popped, and the buck's eyes shut tight. "Nah, not nearly enough, not until I wouldn't not nail that receptionist, she's just too... female," Tristan finished, chuckling.

Max shivered slightly at the memory of the female receptionist who checked them in before their gig. "Does that amount of liquor even exist?"

"Sure," Tristan answered, "not by itself but throw in some of the magical v pill, x, and some acid and I'll be set!"

"They way you are, do you really ever need Viagra?"

"Probably, never tried to get it up to women, or a woman try to get it going," Tristan answered rising to his feet, bottle in paw, "What about you? Ever try waking that buck sausage of yours with a female."

With a sudden lurch forward, Max began coughing, his body doubling over on the table. "Whoa whoa!" Tristan tripped quickly over to Max's side, the vodka sloshing dangerously in the half full bottle, "You ok?" he asked, a paw stroking the heaving back.

Max's back subsided its jerking slowly as the choking stopped. His should rose and fell heavily as he regained his break. "I'm fine," Max gasped heavily.

"Could it be?" Tristan asked leaning down closely to the deer's ear, his arm wrapping around Max's far shoulder, "Never unleashed your cock for a boy either?"

Tristan placed a paw on Max's thigh, snaking it towards the deer's loins as he nibbled Max's ear. The glow in Max's cheeks grew as he felt the paw closing in on its destination. He narrowed his eyes and grabbed the paw approaching his groin by the wrist and twisted it away. "Don't you have your own otter for these kinds of things," Max protested, lifting and pulling the fox off to his side and away from his thigh and ear.

Tristan arched back a bit, pulling his arm away from Max's grip. He folded his arms and stared at the deer. His muzzled was parted slightly and curling down. The eyes were more watery than cross, and the hand that had grabbed the fox remained suspended, a very odd reaction.

With a quick flick, Tristan took a mouthful from the bottle, hissing slightly as more than a shot of vodka rolled over his tongue. Tristan sighed, his tail flicking limply. "He's not my otter, not like he appreciated my affections tonight."

The fox turned away and Max just stared at the table. "You shouldn't tease him so much. If he leaves, you'll need to find a new drummer to share your bed when you strike out."

Tristan snorted and took another gulp from the bottle. "Wouldn't need to if you took that job."

The deer turned and looked at the fox, swaying unevenly. His muzzle remained locked, eyes tilted up in confusion at the fox's back. Placing the bottle down on the table, Tristan cocked his head toward Max."Not like I'm the only one who teases him anyway."

"I don't stick my hands down his pants and expose him in public. I also don't kick him into your room to bed some jailbait twink groupie."

Tristan just shrugged at Max's response. "If you go apologize he might even allow a ride for you tonight," Max smirked at the silent fox, "Didn't realize I turn you on that bad."

The fox remained turned away from the deer. Glancing down, he noticed the obviousness of his arousal that had remained unnoticed through his alcohol hazed brain. He shook his head from side to side, his hair swishing like the bead doors in the new age tobacco shops that Max frequently dragged them through.

Max turned to face Tristan's back. He leaned back in the chair and spread his legs. Tristan remained with his back to Max, his arms down in front of him and out of Max's vision. His eyebrows furrowed, and his diamond tail twitched beneath him. Breathing deeply Max once allowed his body to enjoy Tristan's teasing, out of sight and mind of the pushy fox. The ear Tristan had molested twitched at the memory and Max could feel warmth growing in his chest, fueled by the liquor, his arousal, and the thickening smell of Tristan's arousal.

Max closed his eyes and reopened them slowly, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. With a glance at the clock, he broke the silence of the room, "I think it is about time to pass out."

"Sure you don't want to stay over?" Tristan asked turning around slowly.

When the fox was halfway through his turn, Max's eyes grew frighteningly round and large. In Tristan's near paw he held the vodka bottle, in the other, the fox's red hardness poked out, the paw obviously helping its state of arousal. The blush grew in the deer's face as Tristan finished his revolution and let his cock stand out in front of him only fifteen feet away from the buck. Only the very tip was visible from the folds of the fox's generous foreskin. The six inch and change erection twitched regularly and Max's eyes drifted up the shaft over the larger knot and the small fuzzy sheath at the base. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he stood up, shaking his antlers rigorously. In seconds, the deer closed the gap between him and Tristan, the fox's eyes closed in anticipation.

Max could not avert his gaze from Tristan, particularly the erection pointing out at the deer. His eyes remained locked even as he slipped passed the lithe fox, hand brushing agonizingly close to the object his eyes desired. The deer twisted sideways, his right hand dropping firmly on Tristan's russet hip and tracing around to the fox's bushy tail and bony ass. Tristan took in a large breath followed by a high-pitched whimper as Max's fingers sank between the fox's rump cheeks. Max glanced up briefly, Tristan's hard on now hidden by the fox's body, but the fox's eyes were still closed. He continued to hold his breath as his left hand slipped around the door handle. Being careful to not make a sound, Max twisted both hands. His right hand, the one on the fox's rump, brushed through the soft fur until it became coarser on approach to the area near the fox's tight entrance. Meanwhile, Max's other hand was silently twisting the door handle, his palm tickled as the bolt clicked open in his grasp. He stroked the puckered entrance with a thin velvety finger as he pulled the door open, keeping his eyes fixed on the back of Tristan's head. Every few strokes of his fingers the fox's fur would bristle and his shoulders shook. As the door opened wide enough, Max held it open with a firmly placed leg and grabbed the vodka bottle before whispering in Tristan's ear, "Goodnight, foxy."

Max removed his hand from the fox's entrance and quickly slipped through the open door, pulling it closed behind him. The clicking of the door as it closed was followed by a muffled thump that Max figured was either Tristan kicking the door or collapsing in frustration.

It was a half kick and a half collapse as Tristan turned and kicked a foot at the closed door he fell to his knees. Balancing on one foot was clearly out of the question at his current level of drunkenness. "Fuck," the fox declared.

He was well and truly hard, his shirt currently catching the essence brought on by Max's fingers.

Tristan flopped back with his feet bracing against the door. In frustration, the fox kicked the pants pooling down around his shins the rest of the way off; they landed somewhere on the bathroom floor. His Dresden Dolls tee shirt matted up around his chest from all the liquids from his arousal, evidence of the talents residing in Max's plucking hand. Tristan clenched his fists as they flopped down on either side of his head. He turned his head side to side and sighed. There was a twinge between his thighs that stole his attention. Reaching down he pulled and soothed the fur mere centimeters from where his smooth furred ball sac rested. Tristan pulled and fiddled with the fur that felt crusty instead of downy soft, a direct result of the precome trail that had meandered down his member, over his balls, and trapped by his thighs. The fox sighed, looking down at the red erection pointing toward the ceiling, his face scrunched angrily. "It's not like just anyone would do," Tristan remarked to the red rod as his paw slid up to grasp his hard on.

Tristan's back arched a bit and his tail twitched out its kinks from being trapped underneath him. He closed his eyes, muzzle parted slightly while he started circling his fingers around the pinkish red foreskin near the hidden deeper red tip. With a gasp, Tristan pulled the taut skin down, the foreskin blanket leaving the full pointed tip exposed to cool and dry air of the motel room. His cock hardened even more as Tristan tightened his grip around the lower third of his member, pulling the foreskin down more than normally comfortable. The slight pain instantly switched to pleasure when the fox pulled the foreskin back slightly over the small ridge at the beginning of his cock tip. He teased the very tip of his pointed erection, his paw tracing down his shaft. The cock throbbed as Tristan's fingers felt the veins running down his cock, his fingers barely parting in their fist as they approached the thicker midsection and reconnecting as his paw approached the bulbous base. Arriving at his knot, Tristan's tongue slid out as he gripped the hard ball, fingers managing to encircle only three quarters of the rounded knot. Tristan continued down, his hips pushing the knot through his paw and physically knotting the fox's fist. His fingers traced around the base of the knot, feeling the hot hardness of the knot contrasting with the soft, fuzzy sheath. Taking a second, Tristan bent his fingers down, slipping them in between the folds of his small sheath and the knot, his index and middle fingers encircling the very base of his entire cock. Quickly, Tristan's other paw gripped the shaft right beneath the tip and began an up and down jerking motion, tightening his grip as he went. Suddenly there was a sharp knock and a soft voice. Tristan let his breath out sharply in a silent mutter at the interruption. With a grunt, Tristan sat up and rose to his feet. His ears mirrored the limpness of his tail that swung listlessly against the carpet floor. The fox pressed his right eye to the small peep hole to confirm the identity of the voice as Max. Max was indeed responsible; both for the interruption and the problem Tristan had spent the past five minutes trying to get rid of.

The buck stood a few feet from the door, his head tilted slightly down so his eyes could look up on an angle at the peephole. Tristan could see the vodka bottle, now down to merely a quarter or less, in Max's slightly outstretched arm. Max's muzzle moved slowly, in an obviously apologetic manor to the fox. With a sigh, Tristan opened the door a crack, sliding his naked body out of site of the hallway, and allowed the deer to enter.

Max slipped in the doorway uneasily, his hip bumping against the door's edge. He came to a stop and swayed slightly, bracing himself against the molding surrounding the bathroom door. The sound of the door closing, slightly louder than amicable at the hour, made the buck jump slightly, his antlers clacking against the short roof. Slowly turning, Max looked at the fox standing at the door. Tristan's upper back rested against the door the rest of his body curving down to his feet. His upper jaw was ajar off to the right. Max squeaked at the angry looking fox with his hips angled toward the ground and the furious erection pointing slightly above parallel with the floor.

"What?" Tristan spat, "What happened to your bedtime?"

Max pushed off of the doorframe and stumbled to the entry door. "Well I decided to take you up on your offer," Max whispered propositionally in the fox's ear."

The deer cocked his head to Tristan's left ear, nuzzling the irritated point that flickered against his nose. He parted his short muzzle and nibbled along the metal sprinkled edge of Tristan's ear. Tristan shuffled and bristled his tail from Max's ministrations. Soon the fox felt a soft paw encircle his erection. "Bullshit," Tristan responded, moving his head away from Max's teeth, but not from the hand on his cock.

Max stepped back a bit, continuing to simply hold the foreskin covered erection in hand. "Well I had a bit to drink, Jay took my key and didn't open, I drank some more, and then I needed to pee," Max divulged in a deluge.

"Then fucking pee! I'm going to bed," Tristan seethed lethargically, knocking passed Max.

Right as Tristan passed Max he did a double take, his head turned and peered at the buck with his left eye. "After you finish, turn the light off. You can have the floor unless I get your ass."

The fox grabbed the vodka bottle from Max's loose grip and chugged the remaining quarter of the bottle. He sneezed and wiggled the side of his nose. The room temperature liquor making his body and fur twitch to attention. Then Tristan dropped the bottle and shook his bare rump at Max. He flipped his tail up from the ground and waved it at Max enticingly and disappeared around the corner of the entryway to the bedroom.

Max heard the rustle of bedcovers and the squeaking of springs. The fox was always short tempered when his cock was hard for too long. A click sounded from the bedroom and the light luminescence from the bedroom was replaced by darkness. He fumbled in his drunken haze for the light switch around the corner of the bathroom door. Finally, the bathroom was bathed in bright fluorescents, light reflecting painfully into Max's eyes from the bathroom mirror. The door swung closed automatically after Max stumbled through the sterile tiled room, his fingers clumsily undoing buttons and zippers. His jeans were discarded halfway to the white porcelain toilet and his pink panties fell to the ground when he turned to sit on the cold seat. The air immediately cooled the uncomfortable heat from the inferno of tight jeans and undies. Max hissed softly at the sudden coldness of exposure of air and cold porcelain.

When he finished, he flushed the toilet and stumbled over to the mirror, leaving his pants and undies in a forgotten crumple on the floor. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and undid his chest binding, both falling to the floor. The pipes wretched once before the sink began to spit water from the faucet. Max took a damp washcloth and wiped at his sore chest and the damp, matted fur between his legs, removing the hours old traces of arousal from his fur as well as the more recent additions. With a quick glance at the mirror and a few tweaks to his bangs the deer flipped the light off and left the darkness of the bathroom to the equally dark bedroom.

There was a faint sound of rustling sheets and squeaky springs that stopped shortly after Max opened the bathroom door. As faint as it was, Max still heard it and grinned, muzzle curling at the sides. Clearly the noise was the fox working on the obstinate erection. Max assumed the erection had persisted since early that night. It was certainly a good sign for Max, his small tail shifting from his own growing feeling of arousal. He slunk around the corner into the opening of the bedroom. Despite the dark room he could still see Tristan's form underneath the white sheet. The fox lay on his side, facing away from Max, but the fluffy tail hung off the side of the bed limply.

The coolness of the room mixed with the warm heat of desire making Max shiver in coldness and anticipation. With barely any noise, Max slid underneath the sheet at the bottom corner of the bed and crawled over to Tristan's "sleeping" form. Max supposed Tristan could actually be sleeping, finally passed out from his recent drinking feat, but this time he was not letting the fox get away; betting he was simply feigning sleep.

It was pitch dark under the sheet, but Max used his hands to feel about in front of him, guiding him over Tristan's body. His fingers groped and massaged up Tristan's foot, to his shin, over the skinny thigh of fur and bone, and arrived finally at the fox's hip. Even if Tristan was asleep, the part that mattered certainly was not. Max clutched the fox's right hip and pulled so the fox's lower half was shifted onto his back; Tristan's hardness only visible as a black obelisk pointing up at Max's short muzzle.

The scent of musk overpowered Max's nose. His ears flicked and his hips pressed into the firm spring mattress, delighted at the friction with each deep intake of breath. Hidden from Tristan's view by the sheet, the deer pressed his short muzzle into the base of Tristan's cock. He gripped the shaft with one hand and pulled it tightly to his nose, burying it into the base of Tristan's knot where the flesh disappeared into the potent smelling sheath and balls. It smelled heavily of Tristan, a mixture of old and new arousal and sweat over the hint of minty shampoo. Max's other hand felt up toward the fox's abdomen and chest, feeling the soft chest rise sharply when Max's tongue slipped enticed but unbidden out of his muzzle. He held the cock tight to his muzzle as he moved up the shaft, the tip of his tongue taking in the recent out pouring of Tristan's desire. Max felt what was left of his drunken mind empty, replaced by the overpowering desire from the smell and taste of his friend. He needed it and had to have it, but Max was certain Tristan was in a similar state.

Max fluttered his tongue at the tip of Tristan's erection, feeling the warmth of the fox's tip obscured by the inferno of Tristan's spurts of precome. He gripped the shaft just above the knot and pulled up, bunching Tristan's foreskin around the tip. The deer's tongue penetrated the folds of foreskin and teased the moist tip. Tristan moaned and shuffled beneath him and Max smiled. The fox was awake now, for certain, and obviously enjoying himself. The deer took a deep breath in between the spurts of pre that leaked out of the foreskin, and took the covered tip into his mouth. Max felt a weight land on his head to the side of either antler. He lowered his muzzle slowly, taking centimeters of Tristan's cock at a time while he dragged his tongue down the side of the shaft. For a few seconds, Max paused swirling his tongue around the inch and a half of fox cock in his muzzle. The deer gripped the shaft between thumb and index finger, slowly encouraging the foreskin to reveal the fox's hidden tip. Almost immediately, Max felt the weight on his head lessen and heard muffled gasps from above. Perhaps Tristan was holding his muzzle shut for once, and Max giggled around the hard cock.

Tristan's cocktip, now exposed, albeit in the warmth of buck muzzle, rubbed against the ribbed roof of Max's mouth. Max sucked gently on the tip, applying minimal pressure to the sensitive portion of Tristan's erection. His tongue slid around the section of cock where the foreskin was held in place by his hand. He let his breath out in a short quick burst from his nose and took in another breath with the fullness of Tristan's cock, a deeper and more powerful musk now that he could taste as well as smell it. The deer took another inch of the shaft into his muzzle, stroking the rise of Tristan's knot as well as the fox's chest with his hands.

The cock in Max's muzzle began to spray pre, rather than leak. As more of Tristan's flavorful arousal hit the back of Max's throat, the deer could feel the fox's chest start heaving beneath his hand. Within seconds he was being pulled up and off the saliva coated cock, Tristan's paws gripping his antlers firmly.

In a scratchy and gruff voice, barely above a whisper, Tristan spoke, "that was wonderful my dear buck, but I did specify the price of sleeping on the bed was your ass I thin..."

Max cut off the brief spoken interlude by vaulting up over the fox's legs to straddle Tristan's hips. The fox's erection now pointed downward, pinned by the weight of Max's ass. Max poked his head out from under the sheets, shaking his antlers free from the light material. In the darkness, Max looked at Tristan's eyes, open wide and well awake. The sheet fell back on to Max's shoulders. Before Tristan could react in any way, if he was even planning on anything, Max locked his legs on either side of Tristan's hips and grabbed the fox's arms. He was bigger, and while the difference in weight was only due to Max's extra height over the fox, Max would be damned if Tristan dominated him. If Max was destined to be the bottom in this encounter it did not mean he would give up the dominating top position.

Leaning down, Max lifted his rump slightly and began nipping the sides of Tristan's long muzzle. "What about lube," Tristan scrambled in between nips, "and protection?"

Max stretched his torso out, moving to the fox's big ear. "Self lubricating and... trust me," Max whispered, nibbling on Tristan's ear.

"That's half an octave higher than..." Tristan started, but was immediately silenced when Max sank onto his hard cock.

Tristan's paws banged roughly into the wall shortly after, the fox gasping sharply beneath the domineering bottom deer. Their fingers intertwined as Max settled on Tristan's hips, the fox's member buried deep inside him.

The fox was not the only one left gasping for air, Max breathed hotly against Tristan's neck from the sudden intrusion. As their breathing calmed slightly in the small period between the intense pleasure of initial penetration and the powerful feeling of penetrating pounding, Max pulled the fox's paws together and gripped them against the wall with his left hand. He nuzzled into Tristan's neck; brushing against his lover's lower jaw. The daze in Max's mind began to fade. Beneath him, Tristan's paws wiggled in the tight grip and the fox's neck bent upward in submissive exposure. Keeping Tristan's paws pinned Max nipped at the bared neck before he sat up straight. The cock shifted delightfully inside him and both Max and Tristan moaned softly. Max gripped Tristan's hips tighter between his thighs. His now freed hand stroked Tristan's left ear, rubbing the velvet fur between two fingers. He shifted his hips slightly, followed by a sharp thrust from Tristan's trapped hips. The sudden thrust brought a gasp from Max, as his head turned up to the ceiling and his eyes closed. His right hand left Tristan's ear and patted the fox's thigh behind him gently. "It's been awhile..." Max muttered his eyes shifted to the side, the gesture of embarrassment masked by the darkness, "Take it slow for a bit."

The cock inside Max filled him with sublime warm. Max moved his hand and gripped the fox's ball sac. He ran a finger up the sac and into the bunched up sheath, pulling and rubbing against the always hidden part of the shaft. Max felt a drop of sweat roll down the side of his face, falling from his cheek onto the skinny chest below. He rose up slightly with his hips, feeling the inches of Tristan's erection move inside. Tristan pulled at Max's grip. The deer's thighs, and the hand holding the base of his cock, prevented him from keeping his hard member from remaining inside Max's tight hole. Max rose, another inch of the shaft escaping from inside. He moved his hand to the part of the cock that was exposed and stroked gently. Soft mewling sounds came from the fox. With a grunt, Max sat back down on Tristan's hard cock, the weight of his rump pushing his hand down the fox's erection to his knot. As the cock reentered Max, the foreskin was pulled down by Max's hand, exposing the sensitive tip fully to the heat of Max's hole.

What was left of the fox's restraint was gone and Max doubled over as Tristan's hips escaped the hold and thrust into Max. Between the gravity of Max's descent and the force of Tristan's thrust, the fox's knot pushed through Max's entrance.

The force of being suddenly taken knocked the wind from Max's lungs and he banged Tristan's hands into the wall again from the jolt of Tristan's thrust. Max licked Tristan's muzzle, and nibbled at his lip ring. Tristan remained silent and passive. The only reaction from the fox was the gyrations in his hips. Max started to rock back and forth with his hips, his freedom of movement restricted by the knot inside him. At some point as they sped up, the mattress began to move as much as squeak. Max buried his forehead beneath Tristan's jaw, moaning at the short quick thrusts from the fox's hips. His fingers rubbed against the stretched hole, feeling the movement of the knot within. Tristan was beginning to moan and vocalize louder with sharp yips and barks. At the same time the fox started humping erratically, preventing Max from keeping the rhythm. Even if he was sober, Max knew he'd have trouble. Suddenly, Tristan snarled and ripped his paws from Max's weakening grasp. He sat bolt upright and gripped Max's rump, pulling their groins together tightly.

Max rubbed and humped vigorously against Tristan's knotted cock and body, crying out loudly as Tristan bit his neck by his right shoulder. The cock inside him spasmed and Max hugged Tristan just as tight as his insides were overwhelmed with warmth. The fox's seed spurted and filled Max. The constant rubbing, pounding, and internal temperature spike quickly threw Max into his own climax. Tristan's hips kept up a soft and gentle post orgasm grind as the pair collapsed back on to the bed. Max pulled his arms from beneath Tristan and pushed his torso up a bit. He wheezed slightly as his lungs had the chance to refill. The fox's paws stroked his rump and tail gently. As the wheezing faded, Max unclasped his thighs, rubbing the soreness from them. Then he allowed himself to collapse to Tristan's side, feeling the knot pull at him slightly. Tristan turned onto his side, arms locking around Max. Max draped his right leg over Tristan's hip and wiggled closer into Tristan's embrace. He nuzzled into Tristan's chest feeling the damp fur rise and fall with each breath. The fox's breathing slowed and the deer felt his eyelids grow heavy. Soon both fox and deer were asleep.

Tristan's nose wrinkled as he was roused into wakefulness. A ray of sun, hopefully morning sun, peeked through the always-unclosable gap between the dark green motel curtains. His eyes focused, the back of Max's head appearing with further inspection. There was only a slight throbbing behind his eyes from post-alcohol induced dehydration. Not the worse hangover he experience, actually probably one of the more pleasant mornings in recent memory involving alcohol and fucking.

The room smelled overwhelmingly of rut, mostly Tristan's own scent. Foxes did smell stronger than deer, especially when his scent had more of a chance to soak in. Tristan's nose prickled slightly as he detected the deer's veiled scent. Somehow it seemed unfamiliar.

Growing more aware, Tristan stroked over Max's chest. Sometime in the night, or perhaps soon after fucking, Max had turned away from him. The previous night was fuzzy, but memorable. Specifics were missing, but the feelings and pleasure were still deeply imprinted in the fox. He continued stroking Max's chest before he noticed a rise when he approached the deer's nipple.

Tristan's paw was able to actually grope Max's breast. Confused, Tristan's slipped his other paw to his crotch and dipped a finger into his foreskin. Bringing the fingertip to his nose he sniffed it. It smelled both familiar and unfamiliar. He recognized himself as well as Max, but there was a tinge of unrecognizable scent. Between that and the mound that had seemingly grown on Max's chest overnight the fox tossed the sheet off the bed in confused panic.

Roused completely into wakefulness, Tristan left the bed. Max was there, it was his face, his antlers, his hair, his back, his hands, his arms, his legs, his ass, his tail, his legs, but the front was not his. She had small, but obvious breast, and a void between her legs; no cock, no sheath, just a female slit. Sudden realization struck the fox as he stumbled into the bathroom and pulled on his pants. He was dumbfounded and confused. A blank expression as his mind raced to process the sudden bombshell. Somehow he had left his room and was in front of Max's actual room before his mind caught up to his body. Shaking his head, Tristan banged the bottom of a fist against the door. Muffled sounds came from inside and the opening door knocked into his elbow. "What!" Jay demanded, yawning.

The fox tottered in, his eyes wide and expressionless. "Did something happen?" Jay asked, causing Tristan to turn around to face the boxer clad otter.

"I fucked a girl last night..."

Jay stared at Tristan, his head tilting to the side. "But I heard you and Max fucking last night."

"We did. We were drunk. But I fucked a girl..."

Jay continued to stare at Tristan, his head slowly starting to nod. "So you fucked Max and a girl last night... meaning you had a drunken three-way or drunken sex with Max who is actually a girl?"

Tristan nodded, "the second one."

"Okaayyyyy... does it matter? You were both drunk so I don't think it counts against you. You can still be gay if that's what you're worried about?"

"That's not the issue. If Max is actually a girl and didn't tell us doesn't that mean he... or she didn't want us to know?"

"Umm... does it matter if Max is a he or a she? Sounded like you had a good time... she is still a guy on stage anyway."

Tristan blushed slightly, "Would you fuck Max if he's a girl?"

The otter looked up slightly into Tristan's eyes, "I suppose.... Depending on the situation... it doesn't really matter... he or she can still strap one on and fuck me. Max still smells like a guy so..."

"Most of the time," Tristan amended.

"It's not like one drunken night of fucking needs to ruin or change anything... we do it sober and nothing changes really," Jay shrugged, "How is... Max doing?"

Tristan shrugged, "He... she is still asleep."

The otter turned quickly and opened the door, "Get back to the fucking room before she freaks out!"

Max regained consciousness in the shower. Somehow he had made it from bed to bathroom on automatic. The heat and water from the cheap showerhead awakened him finally. He fought back tears as memories from last night reemerged from his mind. Tristan was not in the room, Max was certain of that. That meant the fox had been the first up and obviously noticed he was a she. Tears ran with the shower spray down her face as she shook from sad fear. She ran a hand between her legs, rubbing the cleansing water into her slit. Max allowed the sound of the shower consume her dread of returning to her room, a confrontation probably waiting. A door closing echoed in the bathroom, but Max ignored it. There was no way to be certain what door it was, especially in an echoy motel bathroom and she could care less right now. She closed her eyes and focused on listening to the shower. Max did the best she could to ignore the memories of the night, and the year and a half of lying to her friends.

Arms enveloped her, paws grabbing her breasts restricting her movement. Her antlers knocked into the wall of the shower as she struggled against the unknown assailant. "Shh... its okay, I don't care, little caribou."

The arms turned Max and she was brought face to face with a dripping wet and nude Tristan. "I don't care if you're a boy or girl, all that matters is you're still queer with us."

Max smiled meekly down at the fox. "Look at me... I am a girl... and you're gay."

"You are Max and I am Tristan. Jay helped that... I think he has the hots for you," Tristan giggled softly, hugging Max to his chest. "He definitely wants you to peg him."

That night they opened again for the same band at the same club. This time Max strode boldly out onto stage, her chest wrapped, but wearing a very short skirt. The crowd cheered when she took the mic in hand. "We're here, we're queer, we only care who you are," Max screamed, sinking into her onstage persona.

No one in the crowd understood a word, feedback screeching through the speakers as the song began. They cheered for the deer on stage, wearing a micro skirt, with a killer guitar strapped to his chest. All they wanted was music.