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The dawn poured golden over a foggy autumn morning. Heavy mist settled over the valley, a fleeting breath resting atop a carpet of scarlet and amber. The harvest season was nearing its end, and most folk of the valley were putting their Saturday to good use, catching up on some much needed sleep. Near the edge of the family orchard, though, two people were finding another use for their morning.

"Ah" Rhys let out a sharp cry.

"Easy now." Mac massaged his shoulder with one hand as he delicately worked the head of his cock into the stallion's tight ass.

It was almost more than Rhys could bear, but he did his best to suppress his squeals.

"Ain't nobody around," Mac bit his neck, "scream as loud as you want." He stuck two fingers into Rhys's mouth and thrust deep inside him.

Rhys let out a soft moan, his hot breath cutting through the chilly morning air like a knife through butter.

With his free hand, Mac lightly gripped his lover's nipple, beginning to tease. At the same time, he started to move his cock deep inside him, slowly at first.

They kept a steady pace, Rhys let out a small whine as each thrust drove deeper into him. He grew louder as Mac slowly started quickening, every press sent a shot of bliss shooting through his entire body.

"That's it," Mac whispered in his ear, "nice 'n loud" he nibbled his ear as he drove his cock hard and deep inside of him.

Unbeknownst to the pair, they weren't the only ones in the orchard that morning. Rhys's younger brother, Buck, had overheard the two whispering that morning and had used the guise of a morning jog to follow them, undetected.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but he certainly hadn't anticipated them fucking out in the open, in the middle of the orchard; and yet, there they were. And there he was, back to a tree, listening to the steady plap of his brother being fucked in the ass, and harder than he had ever been before.

Hearing the rapture in his brother's moans, he wanted it, no, needed it. He began to fantasize about all the things a strong, handsome, stud could do to him. Without noticing, his hand moved on instinct and he found himself stroking his own cock in rhythm with them.

With a mighty heave, Mac repositioned them, bracing Rhys against a tree to give himself more leverage. Using it, he fucked him even deeper and harder than before, causing Rhys's moans to double in volume.

Buck didn't mind, he sped up with them using his other hand to play with his mouth. He was already so close, every tender stroke pushed him slightly closer to the edge.

A slap split the air as Mac wailed on Rhys's ass with an open palm. "Good slut," he whispered just loud enough that Buck could hear him clearly as well, "gonna cum fer me?" He kept a steady tempo, not slowing down as he spoke.

"Yeah" Rhys managed to slip in between increasingly rapid moans.

Mac kept it up, deeper, harder, for another while longer until it became too much for any of them to handle. All three of them came at the same time. Rhys sprayed sticky threads across the apple tree he'd been pinned to while Mac pumped him full of hot cum.

Behind a nearby tree, meanwhile, Buck had made a mess of his hands and underwear. He snuck away as best he could, still woozy from having just cum harder than he had in his life.

"Good slut," Mac ruffled his hair just the way he liked, "Now clean up this mess before some'n sees."

He pushed his face against the tree, forcing him to lick the cum off the trees. Rhys was in heaven, this was the way he'd always dreamed of being treated. As he continued lapping up the sticky mess, while Mac got down on his knees and began a cleanup of his own.

He pulled the stallion's tail back and started licking his cum soaked asshole. He wriggled his tongue deeper,and gave his tail a sharp yank.

Despite having just cum, the sensation left Rhys rock hard. A single droplet of precum drizzled lazily from the tip of his cock.

Mac pulled his tongue out enough to speak, "Eager young thang, ain'tcha?" he nipped tenderly at his supple ass.

Rhys didn't say anything, he let out a breathless moan as Mac wrapped his hand around his cock. He pushed his tongue back into Rhys's ass, wriggling even deeper than before.

About 50 meters back, Buck could still hear them. How could he not, as far as he could tell, the sound of Rhys being fucked echoed across the acres, playing on loop in the back of his mind. A twig snapped beneath his foot. The sound ripped through the morning air, in spite of the comotion.

He didn't dare move a muscle, too terrified they'd spotted him. No, it wasn't fear, it was excitement. The thrill of it was overwhelming. He crept back to a tree, bracing himself and pulling his rock hard cock out of his pants.

Rhys's moans grew louder as Mac's strokes grew firmer and faster. Mac could feel his body quiver at every caress.

Buck couldn't see them, but the sound told him everything he needed to know. The steady slapping of skin against skin, the sloppy tonguing of Rhys's tight asshole, and the persistent whines hung in the otherwise empty air. Even the fog had begun to dissipate.

Every pulse brought Rhys closer and closer to climax. Every inch of him tensed in bliss and-

Nothing. The stallion had halted all motion save for moving his hand to prevent Rhys from cumming. The silence was deafening.

Buck, still hidden behind the tree, didn't have someone to stop him from cumming. Without warning, a short rope of cum shot from his cock, spraying across the bottom of his muzzle, narrowly avoiding his eye. It was a good thing he had said he was jogging, nobody would be suspicious that he took a shower before breakfast.

Rhys wanted to ask why they'd stopped. He almost did until Mac threw a hand over his mouth, still grasping his cock with the other.

"Boys, breakfast" Ma's voice cut the air just as cleanly as the dinner bell she rang. It left a stillness in its wake, none of them daring to move until they heard the familiar clack of the screen door against its splintered frame.

Rhys was the first to exhale, "That was close." He and Mac collapsed together onto the carpet of leaves, embracing tenderly.

"Y'oughta get cleaned up," Mac whispered, tousling his hair and firmly cupping his ass.

Buck didn't breathe until the two of them got up and he heard the door close behind them. He let out a relieved sigh and crumpled back against the tree. His heart was racing, his head, pounding. Even laying on the ground his legs were shaking.

He sat there a moment, catching his breath. With each breath, he loosed a fog into the crisp autumn air. He didn't move for what felt like an eternity, leaning against the tree and drinking in the sounds of nature and the golden light cascading off the last leaves of the season.

Once he could feel his legs again, he stood up and started back toward the house. His head still swam as he ambled steadily onward, this wasn't the first time he'd caught them, of course.

It hadn't started off like this. At first, he was just curious where his brother was sneaking off to after dusk through the summer. He never would have imagined Rhys was sleeping with their seasonal farm hand.

One tepid night, he'd followed him all the way to the river. He lost track of Rhys at first, until he heard a moaning from under the old bridge. He crept closer and he could start to hear the sound of pounding flesh. Closer, and closer still. It sounded like Rhys was practically moaning in his ear, like Mac was slapping his ass.

By the time he caught sight of them, he was already rock hard, unsure of how to handle the situation.

He shook his head and he was back on the porch. His still sticky hand hovered inches from the door handle. He hesitated, not wanting to leave any trace of his deed.

"Tha you, Buck?" Ma hollered from the kitchen, her voice was a train crashing into his aching head. "Yer pancakes 're gettin cold."

"Yeah, Ma." His voice was shaking almost as badly as his legs had been. "Just comin' back from a jog, lemme wash up right quick."

"Fine," she countered, "no telling how long I can keep Mac's hands off of 'em though."

He pulled his hand into the sleeve of his shirt and pressed on, making a beeline for the stairs. He almost made it without incident until he passed by the door of the den.

"Mornin'." A familiar silky voice stopped him dead in his tracks. Across the room, Mac took a long sip of his coffee in the worn armchair facing the hall. The morning paper lay folded on his lap. Buck wondered when the hell he'd had time to pick it up.

"M-mornin'." Buck replied sheepishly. The stallion's burning hot chesnut gaze cut right through him, stripping him naked with only his eyes.

"How was your... jog?" He let the words roll off his tongue slowly. Was he calling Buck's bluff? Had he spotted him after all? Buck could hear the sound of his own heart, beating like a thousand drums.

"It was..." he paused, suddenly unable to recall a single adjective that could describe a jog. "I need a shower." was all he could muster, breaking eye contact as best he could and hurrying up the stairs.

Unsurprisingly, Rhys was already using the shower. Buck slipped silently into his room at the end of the hall to await his turn. He tossed aside his soiled clothes and flopped onto the unmade bed. His mind was racing a million miles a minute, he still barely understood the feelings he was experiencing.

Light poured through cracks in the rickety woodwork and danced across his room, glinting off of every stray fleck of dust. The house was aging, the floor creaked under every step and the walls were paper thin, it was nearly impossible to get any privacy. Even from the relative solace of his room, he could tell that Ma and Mac hadn't moved, Rhys was finishing up in the shower and Pa was still in bed, snoring away.

He lied there a while till he was sure Rhys was downstairs so he could shower in as close to peace as he was going to get. He took his time, letting the warm water rinse away his concerns for the time being. At least half an hour must have passed before he emerged in a veil of steam. By the time he made it down stairs, only Mac was in the kitchen.

"Mornin', colt." He shot Buck a glance as he entered.

"I ain't-" he cut himself off and adjusted his tone. His gut reaction was anger, but he knew Mac hadn't meant any offense. "I ain't a colt." He retorted coyly.

"No," Mac took a long sip from his freshly topped off mug, "'spose y'ain't."

Buck helped himself to a plate of food, doing his best not to make eye contact as he did. The family had torn through the kitchen like a swarm of locusts, but they'd left enough scraps of egg, sausage, and potato to make a hearty meal. True to her word, Ma had set aside a stack of pancakes for him. She'd even warmed the syrup.

He didn't love the idea, but Ma would have his hide if he ate anywhere but the table so, reluctantly, he took the seat across from Mac. Neither of them said anything. It was nothing new for Mac, but to Buck, the silence was an anxious cacophony.

"Where is everyone?" He broke the silence through a half chewed mouthful of egg.

"Town." He set his mug down and stretched. His curly auburn locks tumbled down him like a waterfall, cascading off his chiseled shoulders.

"Even Pa?" He blurted out, desperate to fill the silent air with anything he could think of. He clutched blindly for any thought in his head aside from his fantasies, fumbling his way through awkward small talk with the grace and tact of an elephant.

The stallion's chocolate stare met Buck's gaze, staring straight through the facade he was trying to put on "Eyup." He muttered, turning his attention back to his coffee.

Buck sat there in silence for a beat, Mac had an aura about him that was entrancing. He was always so soft and gentle around the house, but when he and Rhys were alone together...

"Good little slut." Mac's voice echoed in Buck's mind. The words hadn't been meant for him, but he wished they had. He lost himself in the fantasy for so long he didn't realize he'd been staring right at Mac the entire time.

Buck went beat red, Mac chuckled and shot him a small smile. Any and all composure he'd had was long gone at this point, any train of thought entirely derailed. The only thing on his mind was how badly he wanted to be Mac's plaything.

Mac, almost entirely unphased, idly sipped the last dregs of his ever more tepid coffee, maintaining eye contact all the while.

"Ah-" Buck's gut was full of butterflies. It was near the end of the season, this might be his last private moment with the Stallion. "Ah want ya to fuck me like you fuck my brother." The words tumbled from his mouth before he could process them.

Mac downed the rest of the mug in one prolonged gulp, raising one eyebrow as he did. As always, Buck couldn't read him, but this time was different. It was like his words had taken his breath with them, completely deflating him.

"Interestin'." He broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. Buck had hoped a definitive answer would let him breathe again, he should have expected Mac wouldn't make it easy on him.

He stood up from the table and meandered to the stove, fixing himself yet another cup of coffee. Buck, meanwhile, was in freefall unsure if he was soaring or plummeting.

"Ah'd be amenable to that." He said, leaning against the kitchen wall and blowing on his freshly topped off mug. "Course, I'd have ta ask Rhys."

The words were a tidal wave, crashing into him. It was obvious, yet he'd completely overlooked it. They were together, it would be unfaithful not to at least talk about it first.

"Oh..." Buck wasn't sure what to do, "Can ah think it over?"

"Course." Mac's gentle voice was a warm blanket wrapping itself around him.

"Y- you won't tell Rhys, right?" his nerves got the better of him, "till ah make a decision?" he felt as weak as he had backed against the tree. He was relieved he'd only taken a few bites as his insides roiled like the sea.

Mac stared into the inky blackness that filled his mug, considering the request. He mulled it over with the same soft mannerisms he always had. He finished the glass without another word.

"Spose not." He rinsed the mug and set it on the drying rack. He made his way to the front of the house, pausing next to Buck's chair, his overwhelming presence exerting itself over his own lithe frame.

"Won't tell 'im you've been watchin us fuck neither." He clasped his hand firmly on Buck's shoulder. It would've been a huge turn on if he hadn't nearly lost consciousness after the stallion's words hit him, Apparently he hadn't been as sneaky as he thought.

Mac chuckled as he walked out of the house at a leisurely pace. The floor creaked under his weight until he stepped off the porch. The familiar clack of the screen door meant Buck was once again alone with his thoughts.

He had a lot to think about, but right now the only thing on his mind was how badly he needed a drink. Fortunately for him, there was a place in town that'd be open this early. He locked up and biked into town.

The town only had one road, and they lived near the end of it. The first few miles were row after row of amber trees, raining down on their neighbors farms. He waved at the few folks he saw out and about as he traveled by.

As he rolled into the town proper, the dirt road steadily became gravel, and then concrete. He spotted a few friends from high school and pulled up to say hi.

"Well if it ain't Lighnin' Buck Rogers." The familiar shout of former football captain Scott Hunt hit him from a field's length away. His family's fence bent beneath the bulky fox's weight as he waved Buck over the whole way.

"Mornin, Scott." He drew to a stop and laid his bike on the edge of the grass. He hadn't been able to tell who all was here, but from this distance he could tell that most of their old team.

Brock Jackson, one of the team's defensive ends and offensive guards. He was the shortest member of the team by far, a bear built like a tank. Despite his brutal features, he was one of the softest people Buck had ever met.

Ty Gates, the other defensive end as well as their wide receiver. The tiger's glasses and smart haircut gave the impression he was brilliant, an impression Tyler was in no hurry to dissuade by talking too much.

Then, there were the tackle twins, Mick and Rick Thompson. The pair of bucks were always butting heads, literally and metaphorically. Their competitive workouts made their muscular frames nearly impossible to hide under any outfit they wore.

Jack Reed, the only other horse on the team, was leaning against an apple tree just outside the fence. The running back was almost as quiet as Mac, though he was quick with a joke around friends. He took a bite out of an apple he'd picked and wiped the drips of juice off his neatly kept beard with his sleeve.

Leon Leoni had been dragged onto the team per his father's wishes. The only boy in his family, the slender black cat would've much preferred to spend his afternoons in the library. Instead, he'd been their fullback and one of their safeties. He didn't score a single point or stop a single play in four years on the team.

Of course, Scott wasn't alone on his side of the fence. A few other members of his wide family had joined him on the lawn this morning. Scott wasn't even the only member of his family from the team, his younger brother Aaron was there too. The younger fox had skipped a grade putting him just two years behind Scott in school. As a result they'd been on the team together for two years. His slender build had made him a critical part of the team as their star cornerback and tight end.

Their final team member there was the only member of the team that wasn't a boy, their kicker Riley Blake. The sickly coyote had moved here from out west a few years back and started following Scott to practices like a lost puppy. By the time they reached high school, they were like the team's mascot and emphatically agreed when offered the kicker position.

"Heya, cutie." the honeysuckle voice of Scott's older sister Mary. She hadn't been on the team, but she'd always been in the crowd with the rest of Scott's family. Her pale cerulean dress perfectly complimented her much rosier coat in the sparkling autumn sun.

"Where y'all headed this fine mornin'?" Buck was glad to see such a crowd. Hopefully having people around would help him get his mind off of Mac's rippling muscles.

"Headed to the bar I reckon," Scott was quick to explain, "see where the day takes us." He was in his mid twenties now, but he still dressed like he did in high school. A pair of worn out sneakers and tattered jeans were the only solace from the prideful triad of faded jersey, letterman jacket, and backward ballcap.

The group meandered deeper into town, eventually winding up at the town's favorite saloon and eatery, 'Smokin' Joe's', aka the only place in town that sold booze and food before noon on a saturday.

The doors swung wide open as Scott practically barrelled through them. "Charlie!" he shouted in his perpetually high energy tone to Joe's son who was standing behind the bar polishing a glass.

"Scott." Charlie brayed, his tone was like an audible eye roll. "I assume you'll be putting this all on your father's tab, as usual."

"You know me so well." Scott plopped himself on the stool right next to the taps. "Three beers," he began, "and whatever anyone else's havin'."

Charlie started slinging beers without even bothering to ask most of the team, they did this often. He stopped when everyone up to Mary had one.

"Beer me, Chuck." Mary leaned practically across the bar.

"Really?" He shot her a doubtful expression. He'd been serving drinks a long time and she didn't strike him as a beer kinda gal.

"Hell no," she winked, "three shots a whiskey, mamma ain't raise no bitch." he quick-poured her three shots, passing them as he went and she pounded them back just as quick.

"And you two girl scouts?" Charlie gestured at Riley and Buck.

"Double boilermaker." Riley said flatley, an order that left Charlie gobsmacked for a second, but he rolled with it nonetheless. "Make it dark." they clarified as Charlie reached for the tap.

Buck was at the end of the line, and Charlie would be expecting his order next. As one of the younger members of the team, he was still underage, but he wasn't the only one and they'd all ordered beer regardless.

"Uh- Beer?" he stammered uneasily, suddenly feeling out of place with a group he'd once felt so close to. These were his friends, people he'd grown up with and gone to school with. Why should these new feelings inside him change any of that?

"Are you even old enough to drink?" Charlie raised an eyebrow at him, polishing a stein just in case.

"Lay off him Chuck," Jack cut in, "He's older'n you. You old enough to be servin drinks?" The stallion chuckled, sliding the first empty mug back down the bar.

The group stuck around for a few hours, ordering a constant flow of appetizers and drinks at Scott's family's expense. Eventually Scott came up with some hairbrained scheme for them to get up to that afternoon.

Most of the group went with him except Mary and the twins who had a prior engagement to attend to. At least that's what Mary said as she laid all of her weight against Rick's tight abs, wrapping her arms around him. As the drunken ruckus dulled to a still hush, the only two left behind were Buck and Riley.

"Thanks," Buck swirled his beer, the same one he'd been nursing since they got there, "I really needed to talk to someone."

"Thought you might," Riley gestured Charlie over, "can we get four shots a tequila, two burgers and a basket a cheese fries?"

"You got cash?" Charlie looked up from the book he'd pulled out after Scott stopped ordering.

"I do," they pulled out their wallet and showed off a 50, "but it'd be a lot funnier if you charged it to Scott's tab."

"That it would." He replied, sliding them the shots he'd already begun pouring. After filling their drink order, plus a round of ciders, Charlie went back into the kitchen to prepare their food.

"So, what's on your mind?" They sat in a strange position with their feet perched on the seat.

"Riley, I-" the words got caught in his throat, like he was standing on the edge of a precipice. Too afraid to speak lest he be seen differently in their eyes.

"It's ok, Buck." They put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed him tight. A reassuring gesture that blew the wind back into his sails.

"Riley, I'm in love with our farm hand." He spat it out, like his mouth had been full and he'd been choking. He breathed deeper than he had in weeks, a behemoth stepping off his chest.

"Oh." They got quiet for a moment, maintaining eye contact, but clearly deep in thought, "you mean Mac? I mean, sure, he's super hot."

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it wasn't that. In fact, if he'd tried to guess, that would've been the last thing he'd expected them to say. He supposed all these years they'd known each other, sexuality had never come up.

"Isn't he fucking your brother though?" Their blunt words were like a slap on the back. He spit out the tequila he'd grabbed to help him recover.

"H- he is," He laughed it off, trying not to blush at just how aware of that fact he was, "said he'd be amenable but he'd have to ask Rhys first." he slammed the other shot.

"Dude," they stroked their chin thoughtfully, "you gotta do it."

"Really?" Buck was shocked at how bluntly they put it, but he wasn't sure how much of that was the tequila hitting him. It hadn't occurred to him, but he'd barely eaten at breakfast and their food hadn't arrived yet.

"Buck Rogers," they emphatically grasped his face with both hands, "The harvest season is about to end and then that absolute stud is leaving, possibly never to return. This may be your last chance ever to ride that pony."

He felt woozy as they spoke and swayed back and forth, Charlie walked back out to this strange scene and approached, deadpan, carrying their food.

"Now," Riley continued, "you're gonna eat this food, sip the water Charlie's about to bring you," they waved generally in his direction. He begrudgingly obliged. "You are going to sober up, bike home, and ask that farmhand to jump your bones."

"Sshhhhh," Buck whispered, "not in front of people.

"He's Charlie," Riley replied, "he's not people." they collapsed together on the floor, laughing, both far more drunk than they had thought.

"I heard that," Charlie watched them from behind the bar, a pen and tablet in his hands, "you're lucky Scott's tipping 30%" He scribbled in the notebook, adding on a pie while he was at it.

They didn't mind, Buck ate his fill, and sobered up while the three of them chatted. It really did feel good to be himself around friends again; they were older now, but undeniably still versions of the same kids that had played together in middle school.

After a slice of pie and a cup of coffee, feeling much better and much more confident in himself, as well as much more sober, Buck said his goodbyes and sprinted back to his bike where he'd left it on Scott's lawn.

He biked the miles back home as fast as he could, Riley was right, there was no time to hesitate. The golden leaves whizzed by his head like a thousand grains of falling sand. He left a swirling squall of bronze, scarlet, and amber in his wake.

He pulled up to the guest house just as Mac was carrying in a crate of supplies he'd picked up in town. The stallion stopped at the edge of the small cabin's porch.

"Howdy." His hot voice hit him like a burst of steam. Being in the stallion's presence again, seeing his rippling muscles again, Buck could feel his heart pounding a rhythm he could hardly keep up with.

"Ah don't care if Rhys knows," Buck threw his bike to the ground and ran toward the cabin, "ah need you." He lept the last few feet and threw his arm around Mac's waist.

The farm hand reciprocated, holding his crate with one arm and embracing Buck with the other. "Alright." He whispered right in Buck's ear and kissed his neck, holding him there in the blazing orange of the autumn sunset.

They stood there together in the chill air, entwined as the daylight faded around them. As the last few fireflies emerged, they broke away from each other at last. As badly as he wanted it, Buck knew he had to wait, and he made his way back to the main house to eagerly await the next day.

As he walked away from the cabin, Rhys emerged from the other end of the path where he'd been standing for a few minutes. "I take it we need to have a chat," he laughed as he stepped up and kissed his lover on the cheek, "so, how was your day?"

Say Friend. Since you made it this far, could I interest you in my Patreon? There's an extended "5" pages to this story that includes an absolutely bonkers sex scene. I also post lots of work in progress stuff. Plus, for series like this, I take patron feedback on things like which of the hunky boys gets a spotlight in the upcoming seasons. I suspect Buck is gonna end up with at least a few of them over the course of the year, but we'll see where we end up. (Also you can download the PDF which doesn't have infinite formatting issues) (for free)

https://www.patreon.com/user/membership?u=94338527