FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A Father's Praise

© 2023 Bruno Hirschkoff

*

Part 2

*

Stillwater Cove, 1420AD

*

"Dieter?"

"Mmwhat?"

"Can I ask you something?"

Kristian was awake early the following morning, and spoke to his twin brother as soon as he heard him stirring. Dieter rolled onto his back and groaned. It was the Arahanic day of rest, the fifth day of the week, which meant that few people would be expected to work. One of the perks of the 'new' faith that had been eagerly adopted during the early days of the Crusades.

"Ugh, too much ale," he mumbled.

"Let me know when you're awake enough, then."

Dieter forced his eyes open and took a deep breath, which he released as a sigh.

"What is it, Kris?"

"Has having had your foreskin cut ever bothered you?"

Silence.

"Dieter?"

"I heard you; I'm just trying to process the question. Where did that come from?"

"Just... been feeling somewhat despondent about it lately," Kris said quietly.

"Is that what's been bothering you?"

"Yes."

Kristian heard the sound of Dieter rolling to his side to face him, and mirrored his twin's position in their respective bunks.

"Why?" Dieter asked.

"I'm not sure. It isn't something I can change, so there's no point in being resentful. And there's no real reason to _be _resentful. But something a friend said to me a while ago had quite an effect on me. Dad and I uh... talked about it a little last night, I just thought maybe it was something you'd thought about too?"

Dieter ruminated on the question, forcing his hungover brain to formulate a response. "I mostly think of you as being very forward and proud of it, so this seems unlike you. I cannot say that it has ever bothered me. We don't really know any different, do we?"

"That's true, I suppose," Kris conceded, "at least in the sense that we hadn't entered adolescence yet when we went to the Medicars' College."

"I think we're better off as we are, Kris. Think of the alternative. Dad has always maintained that it would probably have needed to occur at some point anyway, with how tight the skin was. What did this friend say to you?"

"It was Sammael, you know him."

"Aye, I do," Dieter said with a shadow of a smirk on his muzzle.

"Then you know that he and I are... intimate, with some frequency."

Dieter raised an eyebrow.

"He has always been interested in our differences, since he has not had his cut. He didn't need it, and was not raised in an Arahanic family."

"Neither were we."

"No, but we are cut in the Arahanic style."

"What other way is there?" Dieter asked. It was not something he'd ever considered.

"Some cultures only remove the very tip, leaving most of the skin. Others make a small V-shaped incision in the top of it over the glans. Others only detach the frenulum."

Dieter chuckled. "Somehow, Kris, it does not surprise me that you know so much about penises."

"I've done a little research."

"Hands-on, I assume."

"Eyes-on, at least."

"Would any of those methods worked for us?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Which is why this feels so silly."

"So what did Sammel say to upset you so?"

"All he did was make a comment about how much more sensitive he is than I, and how dry and 'numb' my head is compared with his."

"And clearly, that stuck in your mind. I would never have thought of that," Dieter said. "I do remember how sensitive the head used to be, though. It still is, but takes a little more pressure now."

"Aye, it does at that," Kris agreed, "Although I certainly do not struggle to reach a peak."

"I have noticed," Dieter grinned.

Kristian chuckled. "Nor do you, when you choose to."

"Not in the slightest. Since we are on the topic, I actually _enjoy _the way we are, Kris. The way an erection feels, the tightness of it, feels nice to me. To be sure, my head is less sensitive than it once was, precisely the same as yours, I would imagine. But sexual sensation for me is shared in equal measure between both of my heads, if you take my meaning."

"I am not sure that I do," Kris said. "But I agree about the tightness. And..." he trailed off.

"Say what you are thinking."

Kristian shifted slightly on his mattress. "The thought that we have exactly the same in every way is... nice."

Dieter's eyes met Kristian's and a shadow of a devilish smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "It is a nice thought, yes - the ability to speak about a specific sensation or action and knowing you would feel it just the same... perhaps this is something we should explore."

Kristian exhaled shakily. "We have done just that though, have we not?"

"Aye, but... you know. Now that we're not just figuring things out. We should explore some more specific sensations, describe how things feel, give each other instructions. Perhaps if I tell you to take hold of your balls and pull downward on them between your legs while erect, and tell me how it feels when the skin stretches tight on your cock..."

"Arahan's balls, Dieter!" Kristian chuckled. "I was already erect, now it aches. I hardly need to tug on my balls to feel the tension!"

"Likewise. Glad to be of service."

"I... honestly until... very recently, I had never thought of using the tightness as a source of pleasure," Kris admitted. "I usually focus on the head."

Dieter just grinned across at him. "Considering we are identical, we do engage in some starkly different activities."

"What did you mean by 'sexual sensation is shared between both your heads?'" Kris said.

"Well," Dieter began. "I do not know how your mind works in this sense, Kris, but when I am aroused and in need of release, it is the imagining of fantasies which causes me to feel pleasure, as much as friction to my penis. Often more so. If I am simply erect and rubbing myself, it does not easily bring me to a peak on its own. I must be mentally aroused as well as physically."

Kristian was silent, gazing across at his brother in the dawn light.

"And recently, if I may be so bold," Dieter continued, "when I have heard you pleasuring yourself, you have not _sounded _mentally aroused. Your mind has been consumed with this frustration, so that it is only your other head that allows you to feel pleasure, and its sensation is predictably dulled, not only by exposure, but by your brain not being as aroused as it usually is."

Kristian's silence remained, but his eyes widened and he opened his mouth as if to speak.

"Did I hit the target?" Dieter ventured.

"With the accuracy of a Bastian longbow."

"Good. Think on it, brother. Now... I must find a way to leave my bunk, for my bladder is set to burst if I do not."

Dieter rose to a sitting position on his mattress with ponderous slowness, and grasped his head in both hands with a groan.

"Well if you aren't going to wait until that goes down before you piss, please go outside so you don't make too much of a mess!" Kristian chuckled, motioning to the rigid tent in his twin's drawers.

Dieter managed a hungover shadow of a cheeky grin, and stood to stumble to their bedroom window, which overlooked an oak tree behind the row house. "Worry not, I shall water the tree," he said, unlatching and pushing the window open.

*

Sammael had stayed the entire night at the Hairy Fig with Lukyan the wolf. After a protracted and heavily erotic dalliance, they and others from Dytaea's Harem had shared a meal in the attached tavern, before returning to the harem room to pass the remainder of the night with music and wine. Dytaea was the patron goddess of orphans and adoption, as well as Achillean lovers. The confluence of divine aspects struck Sammael as particularly poignant not only for himself, but for his friend Kristian, who along with his twin had been adopted by his uncle.

Sammael had come to Rhocarn when he was very young as an orphan, to be cared for and raised in a boarding house at the Dytaean temple in the forest north of Stillwater Cove. The temple gave him a stable home, safe lodgings, food and education and clothing, and was also responsible for placing the children in its care with foster families. Sammael had never been adopted, however, and remained a guest of the temple even as an adult, where he assisted with foraging for food in the forest, preparing meals for the residents and maintaining the temple along with the Dytaean priestesses. As he grew to adulthood, and his sexuality became apparent, Sammael became a sort of symbol of the goddess' patronage of orphans and Achillean lovers, and began to study the night sky in the temple's observatory, under the tutelage of an elderly Caprin astronomer named Breckner Finch. His studies were demanding, but not overly so; between lessons, Sammael had plentiful time to earn coin as a fletcher's assistant, gathering sticks in the forest to be used as the shafts of arrows and bolts, and transporting the finished products to market.

Likewise, Lukyan's situation resonated with Sammael. The tall, elegant Lupa man was very quietly spoken and carried himself with an effeminate dignity, a demeanour he had learned from being raised by Arahanic monks at Sparrowforge Abbey. His father had been an Arahanic Bishop, a man who was supposedly sworn to celibacy by his faith, and his mother had been one of the nuns. So Lukyan's very existence had been a taboo, a secret to be kept at all costs. He had never been allowed to forget it, although he was coy about the details. The whip scars across his back, however, spoke volumes.

Lukyan had escaped from the strictures of his upbringing at the earliest opportunity, but his life had not improved much, at first. But in time, he found himself able to indulge in things he could never have dreamt of, and to earn his living from it. He was a permanent resident of the Hairy Fig, these days, after several years in the much rougher red light district of the Rhocarni capital, Fràwic.

Despite everything, he maintained his Arahanic faith, albeit in a form that did not align with the church's teachings. Arahan himself had, after all, been an outspoken advocate of the sex workers in the golden city Venium, so to Lukyan, the Arahanic church's denial of their very existence struck a discordant note. Particularly so, given that he now knew the frequency with which Arahanic priests, monks and even bishops visited the bawdyhouses, and had sexual relations among themselves.

The Lupa man found an opposite, but kindred spirit in Sammael. When he had entered the Hairy Fig for the first time with his elk friend Kristian, their wide-eyed wonder and eagerness to partake in the pleasures within had drawn Lukyan to them immediately. In the intervening time, they had become close friends; two men raised in wildly different religious institutions. To Lukyan, he told Sam, having a friend with whom he could explore his proclivities without the pressure of it being a paid occupation was a pleasant diversion; Sammael joked that Lukyan was even hornier than he was, himself - sex; a hobby _and _a profession?

Lukyan had responded by quipping that he was making up for lost time, and it was nice to be able to spill his seed without having his sins beaten out of him.

*

Sammael awakened some time after dawn with his fur crusted to his skin with the results of the previous evening's adventures. The only thing that had been missing, in Sam's estimation, had been Kristian. But now that he knew why his friend had been so distant, he'd begun to formulate a plan in his mind to make amends for the comment he'd made.

Sam stretched luxuriantly across his nest of cushions, and then rose naked to his hooves. Lukyan was already gone; Sam presumed that the wolf would be bathing. The fallow buck found his tunic and pulled it on, and then left the harem room to head to the Fig's bathhouse. On the way he paid for his night's lodgings and for the meal for himself and Lukyan. For all that Lukyan was a dignified and refined person, Sam knew he was far from wealthy.

From Dytaea's Harem, Sammael made his way through a maze of corridors and narrow stairways, from one side of the canal to the other. The bathhouse was in an annexed building, which used to be entirely separate from the Fig, many years ago, and had been swallowed up as the Fig expanded.

The bathhouse was crowded and steamy. Fed by natural volcanic hot springs under the town, the water flowed freely and was always fresh, although it carried a metallic tang. Many of the bathhouse patrons were sailors, who had stayed the night and were heading back out to sea on the next tide. Sam made his way around the dozen or so large, raised bathtubs, searching for Lukyan.

"Hie! Sammael!"

The stag turned, and caught sight of the slender Lupa man standing up in a bath, his grey and silver fur plastered to his skin as the water sheeted off of him. Beside him was a blonde-haired and russet-furred Caprin woman, a markhor named Rhell, reclining with her arms spread across the rim of the bath. Sammael approached them.

"You slept late," Lukyan commented with a luxuriant stretch.

Sammael's eye flicked downward to the wolf's genitals, which were half above the water level.

"Aye, I slept very soundly," the Cervid replied with a grin. He lifted his tunic upward over his antlers, exposing his narrow waist and belly fur plastered with dried fluids.

"Lakesh's salty clit!" Rhell exclaimed with a laugh. "I think I know why you slept so well, Sammel..."

Sam gave a demure little shrug and tossed his tunic over a clothing rack, and then hoisted his buttocks upward onto the edge of the raised bath to swing himself over and into the hot water.

"Front and back, Sam?" Rhell continued, observing the similar mess up the fallow's back and across his buttocks.

"Aye, well the front you can attribute mostly to this creature," Sam replied, sidling across to slither an arm around Lukyan's hips. "He really can cum a lot with a cock under his tail..."

Rhell snorted and flicked her gaze downward. "Your cock under his tail, Sam?"

"At one stage, yes."

"And mine under his," Lukyan added.

"So who else was there? I didn't see Kristian, and there is no way all of _that _is Luk's."

"Aye, you are correct, my most perceptive lady," Lukyan grinned toothily. "What was his name again, Sam?"

"It escapes me, I'll admit. Caprin. From Venium, I think he said? Lovely cock, in any case, and ejaculated like a stallion."

"You boys really had quite a fun time, it seems," Rhell laughed.

Lukyan had sunk back into the bath, with the warm water lapping around his throat. Sam did the same, sitting between him and Rhell. Her thigh pressed to his beneath the water, and she calmly began to scrub the crust of semen out of Sam's belly fur with a washcloth. The Cervid leaned back and sighed deeply, and Lukyan leaned in on his other side to erotically nip his throat.

"Don't make me erect in front of a lady, Luk..." Sam murmured.

Rhell snorted. "You act like I'd care."

As if to illustrate her point, Rhell calmly lowered her hand to Sam's not-quite-flaccid cock and pushed his foreskin back with her fingertips to allow the bathwater to clean beneath it. The stag sucked in a breath and rose to attention with the predictable ease of youth. Rhell squeezed it happily.

"See? Not so bad, is it?" she teased, giving him a few quick strokes and then releasing him.

"Rhell..." Lukyan began quietly.

"Oh hush, I know - he is exclusively interested in men. I am only teasing." The Caprin woman nudged Sammael's ribs. "Stand up so we can clean both sides of you."

Sammael's ears flattened, but it was more from the attention than the notion of exhibitionism. He rose to his hooves. The water lapped around his hips, and his erection broke the surface of the bath, his foreskin half retracted. He subtly tweaked it forward to cover his tip, and raised his arms to allow his friends to apply soap flakes to the fur of his belly, and his butt. Lukyan's hand made several ventures to Sammael's modest, twitching cock, which Rhell observed with a smirk on her muzzle.

"You behave as though you have never seen a foreskin before, Luk," she said to the wolf, gazing at him past Sam's erection.

The wolf dipped his head and flattened his ears briefly. "I am just a little jealous, I will admit."

Sammael affectionately rubbed Lukyan's ears, and the wolf returned to scrubbing the crust of semen out of his friend's fur. Once Sam was clean, he sat down between them in the hot water again.

"Do you have lessons today, Sam?" Lukyan asked.

"No; although it is the Arahanic day of rest, not the Dytaean, Breckner Finch does not teach on Ysion's Day. I need to return to the temple to assist with re-thatching the granary before the harvest, but not until tomorrow."

"And I have no clients today, since it is Ysion's Day," Lukyan added, "so I have little to occupy my time!"

"Stay with me, I shall keep you busy, Luk," Sam grinned.

"Busy and... drained," the wolf chuckled quietly.

"Don't dry him out too much, Sammael," Rhell interjected, "it would be unseemly if he couldn't perform for a paying client!"

"Most of my clients are not interested in my ability to ejaculate," Lukyan said quietly, "and I cannot perform as a breeding donor because of... my heritage."

"Aye, being the forbidden child of a Bishop will limit your career options there. Well, you do have the prettiest arse I've ever seen," Rhell smirked.

"Not as pretty as yours," the wolf returned with a flutter of his eyelashes.

Rhell peered down her arched muzzle at him.

"We should dry off, at some point," Sammael observed, "before our hooves rot."

"That is not a concern for me," Lukyan noted, lifting a paw out of the water and flexing his clawed toes.

"True enough. And everyone _loves _the smell of a wet Lupa," Rhell replied, reaching over Sam to playfully fondle Lukyan's ears.

"Well, I have to be certain I am _very _clean, of course," Lukyan replied. "Otherwise nobody will wish to have their mouth near my pretty arse."

"Luk, if your arsehole isn't so clean it squeaks by now, it never will be," Rhell laughed. "You were already here when I arrived at dawn!"

"Would you like me to check for you, Lukyan?" Sammael grinned.

Lukyan shrugged and stood in the bath, then turned his back to lean his elbows on the edge and raise his tail, sending a spray of water across his friends. "How do I look, Sammael?" he said, swaying his slender hips and arching his spine to present his buttocks.

"Like my midday meal," Sam said, leaning in to casually plant a kiss on Lukyan's taint.

The wolf shivered and clenched, causing his hole to wink.

"And now I am erect yet again," Sam reported.

"This is not a surprise," Lukyan lilted. "Though it is always welcome."

"You two are _such _horny little sluts," Rhell laughed. "Are you waiting for me to leave so you can hump yet again?"

"No, Sam is just too much fun to tease," Lukyan laughed, straightening up and turning to face them.

"Seems like you have caused the same reaction in yourself, yet again," Rhell said, glancing downward at the wolf's erection. "It's not only your arse that's pretty, Luk."

"Surely you mean my face, Rhell?" Luk fluttered.

Rhell lifted her gaze away from the wolf's knotted member. "Of course."

With little self-consciousness for the arousal Sammael and Lukyan displayed, the three stepped out of their bath shortly thereafter, gathered their clothing and moved into the drying room. In a world where almost the entire populace was densely furred, finding ways to dry off quickly had long been a focus of engineers and Aethyrsmiths alike. The drying room at the Hairy Fig was the latter; the use of Aethyr was a rarity in the wake of the Crusades, when Aethyr of all kinds had been brutally suppressed by the Arahanic crusaders. Somewhere beneath the floorboards of the drying room, an Aethyric artefact was housed which generated a lot of dry heat, like a flame without smoke, or the need for fuel. It was a marvel, and resulted in jets of hot air being directed upward between the floorboards, which would sap the moisture out of the densest of pelts.

The room was far from empty, with a dozen or more bathhouse patrons using it when Rhell, Sam and Luk arrived. It was blisteringly hot within.

"Any interesting clients later this evening for you, Rhell?" Sammael hedged.

Rhell was, like Lukyan, a courtesan. While she spent a lot of her time at the Hairy Fig, unlike some other sex workers she did not permanently live within or adjacent to it. She paid a retainer to the establishment to be allowed to conduct herself within, but operated as an independent and self-reliant woman. Rhell had no need of the income. She was independently wealthy and also maintained a house in one of the more prestigious parts of Stillwater Cove, where she welcomed her more discretion-aware clients. It suited her means to behave as though she _did _rely on the coin she made from her body, though her courtly manner and political acumen had allowed her to foster a very exclusive clientele.

"None I can tell you about, little buck," Rhell replied with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "They often make me swear an oath of secrecy and sign my name to it. But... _interesting _would be the correct word, yes."

Lukyan remained quiet, but Sammael caught a glimpse of a smile crossing the wolf's features as he busied himself scrubbing bathwater out of his fur to accelerate the drying.

Rhell, meanwhile, squatted over a hot air jet and sighed luxuriantly. "There really is nothing quite like the feeling of having your cunt blow-dried," she commented demurely, in a tone of voice she might have used to speak to nobility.

"Rhell!" Sam laughed. "You know, for someone with such distinguished clients, you really are as rough as an alleygirl."

Rhell parted her buttocks with her hands and moved her hips over the air jet until she was dry, and then stood. "Aye, it is why I enjoy your company so much, Sam, and Kristian's. I can be as ribald as I want and know that you will take it in your stride. If I told Canton, that big Equid I pay to manage my affairs, that my cunt was itchy, he'd instantly drop in his pantaloons and expect that I wanted him to scratch it for me with his tongue. Or his cock. Around you two I'm perfectly comfortable saying as much and proceeding to scratch it without having to manage your expectations of inserting parts of yourself into it afterwards."

"Canton worships the ground you walk on, Rhell," Lukyan said. "I've seen the way he is around you. He would lay down his life for you in a heartbeat."

"Maybe so, and that is precisely the problem," Rhell said thoughtfully, lifting one of her tits to dry beneath it, and then the other. "He looks up to me as a superior. To him, I am unattainable, somehow out of his reach. Two people cannot connect as friends in such a relationship. Most of my clients look down upon me. I am just a whore to them, even though I am an expensive and classy whore. They pay me for my silence and discretion, not to be my friend."

Sammael nudged Rhell aside and squatted abruptly over the same hot air jet the markhor had been using.

"You're right," he said after a moment. "It is a unique sensation."

"With the amount of cock you've had up there recently, you'd best be careful it doesn't blow you up like a bagpipe, I'd hate to think of where I'd have to squeeze to empty you out again," Rhell said drily.

"Or the noise I'd make," Sam grinned.

"Oh no, I _know _what noises you make."

"That is because you are a pervert who masturbates over men humping beside you!" Sam retorted.

"Coming from a man who goes to sometimes extraordinary lengths to be watched!"

"Of course, but my point stands," said Sam.

Lukyan maintained his dignified silence, although he made no secret of his interest, even as he dressed in a simple loincloth and a calf-length robe that gave him a distinctly monkish appearance, even in the absence of the mock Arahanic vestments he often wore over it. The bright red sash around his waist, however, was a symbol of Lakesh, the patron goddess of courtesans and sex workers. Lukyan's past, as dark and as traumatic as it had been for the wolf, had become an asset - there were people, he had found, who would pay good coin to roleplay engaging in the most depraved of sexual acts with a priest.

Rhell, meanwhile, dressed in loose linen trousers which sat low on her wide hips, a chemise and a densely embroidered silk jerkin, and Sammael pulled on his simple linen tunic. It barely covered his manhood.

"What happened to your leggings?" Luk asked, when Sam announced that he was ready.

The fallow shrugged. "The last I saw of them, they were sailing out of a window into the canal. I presume they are somewhere out to sea by now."

Rhell gave a snort of laughter and flipped up the back of Sammael's tunic to hook it over the top of the stag's tail. "Well, you're certainly going to be the centre of attention if you leave the Fig, aren't you?"

"Maybe that was his plan, Rhell," Lukyan speculated. Then, to Sammael; "Come, I have spare clothing in my quarters."

Rhell parted ways with the two men, and returned to her home on the other side of town. Lukyan, meanwhile, took Sammael to the resident courtesans' quarters, adjacent the Hairy Fig along the banks of the canal, below the level of the main thoroughfare behind them. It was little more than a cupboard; tiny, dark and cramped, but for Lukyan it was a refuge.

"So what are your plans for the remainder of this day of rest, Sammael?" Lukyan asked the stag, as he rummaged through a small trunk on the floor beneath the tiny window.

"I have been thinking about Kristian a lot," Sam said. "I may go and seek him out, and try to talk to him."

He accepted a pair of Lukyan's leggings, and his eyes were met by the Lupa man's golden gaze. The desire between them was palpable in that moment, a tension in the air that seemed to rise from nowhere to fill the tiny bedsit with electricity. Sammael stepped into the leggings and shuffled them up his thighs. They were tight, but they fit.

"Here, let me..." Lukyan said.

He stepped in behind Sammael and lifted the back of his tunic again, then very slowly, sensually even, pulled the drawstring of the leggings tight above Sam's tail and tied it closed. His hands lingered on Sammael's waist, and the stag sighed deeply, pressing his hips backward onto the wolf. Lukyan pressed forward and Sam felt him stiffen. He slid his arms around Sammael's body, holding him tight and pushing the firmness in his groin against the warm curve of his friend's buttocks. Sammael countered his firm grinding with his own in reverse. Lukyan bent his knees slightly to account for their height difference and shoved his erection upward against the underside of Sammael's buttocks.

"It is so easy to give you erections, Luk..." Sam murmured, carefully tilting his antlered head aside to turn his face towards the wolf.

Lukyan's hand dropped to the stiffness distending the front of the leggings he'd just supplied to Sammael, and squeezed it firmly. "Not as easy as you, my friend."

"I am young and still in my adolescence," Sam said. "What is your excuse?"

Lukyan gave a mock-offended snort and nipped the side of Sammael's neck. "I am not significantly older than you!"

"Don't worry Luk, you wear your age well," Sam teased.

"You will be wearing my seed as well as my leggings, soon, if you keep pushing back on me as you are..."

"Oh, you are that turned on, are you? I'm surprised you can feel this, with that de-sheathed, permanently dried out cock of yours..."

Lukyan shuddered and shoved his hips roughly forward, driving the fabric of Sam's leggings between his buttocks. "You are the only person I have met who is so fascinated by my lack of a sheath."

Sam grunted. "Aye, what can I say? It is very hot, to me."

Lukyan ground forward again, even harder than before, and Sam bleated as he nearly lost his balance.

"Easy Luk, you'll snap your baculum!"

Lukyan growled into Sammel's ear, a sound that turned the stag's knees to jelly, especially coming from the usually demure and quiet wolf. "You let me worry about my baculum, little hurait." (Forlassean for "nymph")

"Oh I love when you talk dirty to me..."

Lukyan's clawed fingers teased at the drawstrings of Sammael's leggings, and within minutes of putting them on, they were once again off, and the stag was bottomless, his modest, uncircumcised erection bobbing stiffly in the dim light of Lukyan's quarters. The wolf shrugged out of his robe, overcome with lust for the stag yet again. His loincloth was sharply distended by his arousal, the soft pouch of fabric bearing a substantial damp spot at its peak. Sammael tugged the wolf's loincloth outward, causing it to release and fall backward between his legs to reveal his rigid lupine flesh. With no sheath to contain it, Lukyan was completely exposed even before he attained erection, including his knot. Above the base of his cock, a scar ran upward over his pubic mound several inches, causing a subtle cleft in the fur.

Sam surrounded the wolf's cock in his hand and ground his other palm over the pointed tip, more firmly than he himself would have been able to stand. Lukyan captured Sam's jaw in his hand and brought their muzzles together in a deep and passionate kiss, and Sam slid his hand downward to capture and roughly squeeze Lukyan's knot. It swelled instantly, and the wolf flexed, sending a spritz of watery fluid into the stag's palm.

Sammael broke their kiss and grinned at the wolf, then guided him to sit on the edge of his bunk. Sam knelt on the floorboards before him, and ran his hands up and down the insides of Lukyan's thighs, staring at his cock with hunger in his lavender eyes.

"Typically, Sammael, our roles here would be reversed," Lukyan observed, "since it is I, of the two of us, who is a courtesan."

"Aye, but then I'd have to pay you," Sam laughed. "And besides, I did not get a chance to taste you last night..."

"If that were the case you would already owe me more than you could afford!"

"Then shut your pretty muzzle and let me make you feel good..."

"You do, Sam, you always do..."

Lukyan's hand found one of the stag's antlers, and guided him in. Sammael brushed his lips along the side of Lukyan's shaft, moistening the skin with his saliva, and caught a streak of lupine precum across his cheek for his efforts. Sam gripped Lukyan's knot, exploring the rigid bulb with his fingertips, and slowly sank his lips over his shaft. The wolf's tip flared to a subtle, crenelated ridge, behind which the midsection of his narrow shaft bulged subtly. It was a shape Sammael was increasingly familiar with; the variance in Lukyan's thickness as he drove it inward and pulled out of him was a feeling Sam enjoyed immensely. He pressed downward, feeling the subtle bulge of the wolf's shaft parting his lips as it passed. He sucked gently, and ground his soft, flat tongue firmly around Lukyan's tip. The wolf exhaled hotly and leaned back on his elbow on his bunk, to raise his legs over Sammael's shoulders. That allowed Sam to angle the wolf's penis downward, a position he knew his friend enjoyed. It made his knot swell immediately, becoming a shiny, angrily red bulb of arousal half the size of Sammael's fist, which Sammael gripped behind and tugged on. Lukyan yelped and his hips jolted, and Sam felt precum splatter his throat. He bobbed his muzzle firmly on the wolf's shaft, applying as much friction as he could while guarding his teeth with his lips.

Lukyan lasted only minutes. Sammael's experience and knowledge of the wolf's sensation was second only to Lukyan's own. He knew to pinch and roll the root of the wolf's shaft between thumb and forefinger, while rhythmically tugging upward on the underside of his knot. He knew that once it was lubricated, the ridge at the tip of Lukyan's shaft was surprisingly sensitive. And he knew that years of dry friction, of Lukyan masturbating inside his clothing as an adolescent, had dulled his sensation. He was no longer afraid of hurting Lukyan by rubbing too hard, as he had been to begin with.

Sam heard the wolf's breathing deepen and hasten, and knew he was coming close to his peak. He brought both hands to bear on Lukyan's cock as well as his mouth. One hand gripped his knot and treated it like a locked doorknob, tugging and twisting, while the other gripped behind it in a tight pinch. He could feel the scar tissue around Lukyan's root, and knew that was why the wolf enjoyed this as much as he did. He pinched the flesh rapidly, with the same cadence as his muzzle rose and fell over his shaft, and was rewarded moments later with a muffled growl and a whine of pleasure, and a flurry of burning hot, salty jets of his friend's semen over his tongue.

Sam gently milked the fluid out of him, and then released the wolf's cock to fall against his tummy. It would take some time to soften, he knew that from experience, so he crawled up over Lukyan with a smirk on his muzzle. A thick rope of the stag's precum drooled from his overhanging foreskin over Lukyan's leg.

"Sammael?" Luk said, observing the mischievous look on the stag's face.

Sam did not reply, but abruptly kissed Lukyan full on the mouth, pressing the wolf's seed into his own mouth. Lukyan fought half-heartedly against the kiss, but eventually gave up and swallowed his own offering, lapping it from his friend's tongue.

"You are disgusting!" Luk said, laughing, once Sam broke the kiss.

"I am only returning what is yours, my friend, lest you decide to levy your fee from me!"

Lukyan blustered and batted at Sammael's chest. "You are drooling slime all over my fur!" he protested.

"Well you know how to stop that..."

Lukyan gazed into Sammael's pretty, half-lidded eyes, and combed his fingers through the stag's russet hair. Then he dropped his hands to Sam's buttocks, and encouraged him upward over him. Sam crawled over the wolf's prone body until he knelt astride his chest, his modest penis twitching rigidly a couple of inches from Lukyan's snout. The overhanging tip of his foreskin drooled thick, clear fluid, and with no other option but to let it mark his fur, Lukyan opened his mouth and captured it on his tongue. It was salty and carried the unmistakeable tang of ungulate musk, and Lukyan breathed deeply across it, drawing that scent deep into his lungs. Sammael's cock was well below the average size for Cervid as a whole, and perhaps a little on the small side for a fallow at four and a half inches, but that had never been a source of insecurity for him. Indeed the stag seemed to get off on differences of size and sensation, so the contrast between his own and Lukyan's members was cause for arousal, more than anything else.

"Do you want to cum?" Luk asked quietly, gazing up at Sam past his twitching erection.

"No... I want to build it up," the stag returned.

"As you wish!"

Lukyan tenderly kissed the very tip of Sammael's foreskin, dampening his lips with the stag's heavy precum flow. The fingertips of the hand on Sammael's rump teased inward between the globes of his buttocks to caress the taut, puckered ring of his hole. Sammael's tail flagged sharply upward and he found himself torn between his urges to push forward, or backward. Luk brought his other hand forward, and applied his thumb and forefinger delicately to the stag's rigid penis, at the subtle ridge in his thick foreskin beneath which sat his corona, at the back edge of his concealed glans. Then he very slowly pushed backward. Sammael's foreskin stretched supplely at first, before his phimotic ring parted and opened to reveal the intense pink slickness of his urethra nestled within, soaked in the accumulated nectar of his arousal. The scent was intense, particularly to a nose as sensitive as Lukyan's, and the wolf breathed it in deeply. Then he tenderly took Sammael's foreskinned tip into his mouth, closed his lips around his corona, and pressed his tongue inward against the parted tip of the stag's fleshy hood. Sammael trembled with arousal above him, and Luk gazed upward at his face, deftly wriggling the warm slickness of his tongue inward beneath the foreskin. He slowly, firmly swirled it around, cleaning the fallow buck's salty precum from between his glans and the fleshy hood that covered it. The flood of precum that flowed over his tongue was substantial, and he felt Sammael tense and flex his cock, his glans swelling and his shaft pulsing rhythmically. Fresh precum spilled onto Lukyan's tongue, and he squeezed down firmly on Sammael's buttock, pulling his cheeks open slightly and pulling him forward to press his aching cock into his welcoming muzzle. Sammael bleated softly in pleasure, his thighs and buttocks trembling at the intensity of such a delicate touch. Lukyan was very, very good at his craft.

The wolf's lips and tongue gradually pressed Sam's foreskin backward, and his thumb and forefinger at the stag's root held it back, until the entirety of his glans was exposed to Lukyan's tongue, his frenulum pulled taut beneath. The wolf nursed tenderly on Sam's offering, sucking and milking the stag's precum from his rigid member and performatively swallowing it, slowly moving his muzzle up an down along his sensitive cock. The stag had shut his eyes and was breathing raggedly, his thighs twitching occasionally and his hips straining not to simply thrust forward, to obey his body's instincts to push himself as deep as possible into this welcoming warmth and spill his seed... Luk felt Sammael's back entrance flutter and clench against his fingers, and released his friend from both hand and mouth.

Then he brought his hand to the stag's exposed glans. He gave it a series of slow, rough strokes with his palm, which caused Sammael to bleat in discomfort and pull back.

"There you go," Luk teased. "All cleaned up!"

"I nearly peaked, before you did that," Sam pouted.

"I know. That is why I did that. To overstimulate you and prevent you from ejaculating. As you requested," Lukyan grinned. "It is endearing how rapidly I can bring you to the edge."

Sammael gave an exasperated groan and gripped himself, masturbating urgently for a moment over Luk's face. Lukyan watched for a second, and then stopped him with a firm grip on his wrist. Opaque precum drooled from the stag's swollen member onto Luk's chin, but Sam released himself.

"I have changed my mind, Lukyan, I want to spill my seed on your pretty face..." he panted.

"That will cost you," the wolf said teasingly.

Sammael groaned and thrust weakly into the air, his purple glans glistening with arousal.

"Save it up, Sam. Now, let us resume where we were before this began... You were speaking of Kristian. I presume it is for him that you are willing to forgo a climax?"

Sam gradually relaxed as the lust cleared from his brain, and his erection wilted slightly. "Aye, right you are. I do not know whether or not he will be at home today, but it seems like as good a place as any to start seeking him out. I would like him to come to the Fig tonight. Thus why I wished not to finish just now."

Lukyan nodded approvingly. "A good thought. Would I be correct in believing that your comments about Kristian's circumcision came from a place of desire, of admiration and lust, as they are regarding mine, but he perceived them as being made in the pejorative?"

Sammael blinked slowly several times. Lukyan was very articulate when he chose to be, and his soft, lilting accent gave him an air of intellectualism, even when he was on his back inches from the tip of a cock, his lips and muzzle streaked with precum.

"I believe so, yes."

"Good that you recognised as such, then. Would you mind if I joined you? I have little else to do today, and I should like to see where this elk friend of yours lives."

"Certainly, I'd enjoy the company."

"Good! Let us dress, yet again, then," Lukyan chuckled.

The wolf's knotted erection had mostly abated by that stage, leaving his cock, while still exposed as it always had been and always would be, hanging downward over his balls. His knot was little more than a slight thickening at its base, and the scar tissue behind it was more evident. His cock looked dry and its surface had a rough texture, particularly after the strength of the erection he'd had just before. Lukyan indulged Sammael's gaze for a moment, and then pulled his loincloth forward between his legs once again and tucked it beneath its own string to form a protective pouch. Then slid into his robe and sash once again. Sammael stepped into the borrowed leggings and stuffed his still half-erect member into the pouch, and Lukyan once again tied them up for him, albeit without the eroticism of the previous occasion. Then the two men left the wolf's quarters, and stepped out into the bright sunshine of the late summer morning to walk across town to the Hirschkoff home.

#