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To say Suel was wandering the forest was to say he was completely at peace, both with himself and the world around him. Every chitter and chirp that came from the trees and every lap of flowing streams against smooth, water-polished rocks were like lullabies to him, and if he so desired, he could've easily laid down anywhere he pleased and slept soundly, no matter the time of day. Amidst the abundant life and stillness of his forest, the world ceased to move for him, and there was only one real danger, one reason for him to be versed in any kind of offense at all; poachers. Hunters who killed for food were tolerable in his eyes, even if the practice didn't appeal to him, but those who preyed on animals solely for their hides, bones and humors were to be chased off with extreme prejudice, though the wolvar was reluctant to kill even these lowlifes. It saddened him to acknowledge that most every visitor to his domain had some idea of conquest in mind, be it for personal gain or simple survival; to encounter an individual with no ulterior motives was the exception to the rule. That was he assumed when he came across a young creature whom he would later come to know as Desmond, lying in the thickets, suffering from a deep wound in his gut delivered by some creature or another. Clutched by his side was a weapon that bridged the gap between a dagger and a sword, and its' blade dripped with fresh blood, the sight of which appalled Suel. As he took a better look at the pathetic vulpine creature, doing all it could to fight off unconsciousness, Suel rashly assumed that he was merely a poacher who had gotten his due, though he refused to let him die, especially someone so young. Kneeling at the fox's side, Suel easily defeated him as he attempted to raise the blade, extracting it from his paw, tucking it into the sash of his robe. "Now now," said Suel with the tone of a disappointed parent, "that's gotten you into enough trouble."

Upon his hip, opposite the blade he'd just stowed, Suel carried a satchel of supplies. A heavily fermented booze which he made himself, used not for consumption, but the disinfection of wounds was the first thing he took from it, which he set in his immediate reach. Soon after, he took a tightly-wound cloth wrap, previously soaked and disinfected in yet more homemade liquor, and laid it with the booze. So close to unconsciousness, the tod put up no fight as Suel stripped him of his leather armor - a piece which had proven most gravely ineffective - to expose his entire upper body, a form so slender and feminine that Suel briefly questioned the tod's gender. He shook his head and closed his eyes in a brief self-reprimand, and then laid the vulpine flat upon his back, gently propping up his head with the doubled-over remains of his own vest. "This is a very nasty wound," Suel said in a gentle remark, popping the cork on the bottle of liquor, freeing an acrid smell that stung his sinuses. As he gingerly poured it upon the gaping tear, the fox cried out with a pained yelp, and then passed out so swiftly that Suel paused to check for the beat of his heart. "Probably for the best," the wolvar muttered to himself, taking the opportunity to more thoroughly bathe and cleanse the wound; once it was soaked in the fermentation, he ripped a piece from the cloth nearby and dipped it into the stream, then used the makeshift washcloth to wipe clean the wound, going so far as to wipe inside of it as well. What came next was arguably the most important part, for he set his paws over the bloody wound, cupping them over the damage, and that was when his body went still, and his eyes drifted closed. For many minutes, in silent meditation, he put to use the full extent of his regenerative powers, largely restoring the torn muscle and a few layers of flesh, but that was all he could do for the fox without exhausting his powers. With the risk of infection gone and the wound at least closed, Suel finished his field surgery by dousing the new flesh one last time in his disinfectant, then wrapped his torso tightly with what remained of the cloth. The fox would smell like a tavern floor for some time, but at least he wouldn't die.

It didn't surprise Suel that the tod was still unconscious. Simply leaving him out with no means of defending himself was asking for him to wind up as bear or wolf food, and so the wolvar hoisted the effeminate creature up and carted him off to his den, where his mates ordinarily lived, but on that particular day, they were absent, enjoying the sun and fresh air just as Suel had been. He laid the vulpine down in a bed of grass, then sat, and simply waited. Waiting was something that Suel had no problem with, being a creature whose virtues were to be passive and patient, but the idea of having a poacher in his den left him fraught with unease. By no means was he afraid of the tod, simply able to sense that he was a creature without any magical blessings, but the concept was not a pleasant one for the wolvar. When the young creature finally began to stir roughly an hour later, Suel first pinned him as he tried to sit up, though it was equal parts restraining the tod for his own peace of mind, and to prevent him from aggravating the recently-healed wound on his gut. "Stay on your back," Suel said quietly, but it was delivered as something of a command. Already feeling a twinge of pain, Desmond nodded and obeyed, falling slack. "Where am I?" asked the fox, his eyes clearly hazy as they glanced here and there around the cozy den, before finally coming to rest on Suel's face, oftentimes friendly and cute, but for Desmond, it was stern; the expression made him flatten his ears out like a frightened pup. "You're in my home," Suel answered him amiably enough, moving to fetch a ladle of water for the twink, who quite gratefully sucked the liquid from its' cup and licked his jowls afterwards. "And, er," said the fox, "who would you be?"

"My name is Suel," answered the wolvar, "I'm something of the guardian of these woods, I keep watch over all that lives and thrives here." He spoke entirely without pomposity or assumption, presenting himself matter-of-factly to the fox. "I don't take kindly to poachers," he warned, narrowing his eyes down at the fox, but this expression was lost on Desmond. "Poachers, huh? Yeah, I can imagine why," mumbled the foxcoon, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Already, Suel had begun to wonder if he'd had the wrong idea about the fox, and though he didn't expect full disclosure from the young thing, especially if he had been up to no good, he had to try to find out. "Please, tell me what was it you were doing in this forest with a bloodied blade at your side, and a chunk of flesh clawed out of your stomach." Suel spoke with no flair of accusation, but the tod still managed to take some away from the query, answering with a half-indignant tone and eyes that were, at once, wide and alert. "I was exploring. That's what I am, you know, an explorer. I explore," the fox grumbled, giving Suel just about the most petulant expression he'd ever seen. "When I tried to get a drink from the creek, I was pounced by something scaly, something reptilian - I couldn't tell what. By the time I'd managed to stab it, the damn thing had already tried to disembowel me," huffed the fox, choosing then to pause for a moment. When he spoke again, it was without frustration or malice, simply matter-of-fact and calm. "I stumbled away from the encounter, but I couldn't stop the bleeding. I don't remember anything besides falling down a ways from the creek, and then," the fox again paused, and closed his eyes in concentration, "somebody said something to me. I'd assumed I was simply on Death's door, and that I was hearing things." Opening his eyes, flashing Suel an enigmatic grin, he added: "You look awfully fuzzy and fat to be Death, though."

"So you're not a poacher, then," Said Suel, not a question, but a statement. He felt relieved at the notion, but of course there was some distrust - and regret at dismissing the tod as such. With a haughty sass that Suel was fast coming to expect, the fox said: "Did you find a field knife on me? Any furs or horns or bones? Hm?" With that, he _hmph_ed at Suel and twisted his head, but this flinch caused him a twinge of pain that coaxed a whine out of him. Chuckling in good nature, Suel patted the vulpine's brow and shushed him, then offered him another ladle of water - one the fox accepted graciously. "Forgive me for my assumption, then. What is your handle, if I may know it?" The fox seemed to visibly relax, sprawling against the bed of grass yet again. "Desmond, that's my name," said the fox, and soon after, with a somewhat reluctant pause, "thank you for rescuing me, Suel." The wolvar smiled in a lazy way and shook his head, a show of modesty. "You've got no need to thank me, Desmond; I rescued you even under the assumption that you were a poacher. I would never let another creature die if I could stop it." Desmond nodded, then laid a paw over the wound on his stomach and deflated with a long, disappointed sigh. "I'm going to be laid up for weeks. Some explorer," he huffed with self-contempt, looking away from Suel at the far wall. "Weeks? Hardly," Suel said with dismission in his voice, meeting Desmond's sudden gaze with a coy smile. "You indeed had a very nasty wound. I'd go so far as to say you're lucky to have all your insides where they should be - inside of you!" Showing off something of a playful side, he gently poked the pad of the tod's nose, then chuckled to him. "But you were lucky to find yourself wounded in the domain of a medically-inclined creature like myself. You'll be on your feet again in a few days, explorer."

For much of the afternoon, Suel and Desmond became better acquainted, discussing this and that, slowly dismissing all distrust in favor of casual conversation and general friendliness. Despite the tod's overbearing sassy attitude, Suel was fast coming to enjoy his company and talk, and though Desmond had rarely gotten along with pacifists, Suel was an enjoyably gentle and friendly creature - not to mention cute, and with a style of body which the tod appreciated on men. After some time, Desmond finally worked the nerve up to invite Suel to lie with him, something the wolvar was not at all reluctant to accept. Shedding the half-robe which covered him from the waist down, rendering himself naked to the tod, he cuddled up close to his invalid guest and wrapped his arms around the tod, bringing himself face-to-face with Desmond, smiling fondly, an expression which the twink fox returned. "This is pleasant," the fox began in a benign way, but ultimately, he couldn't stop his smart mouth: "It's too bad I had to get half-gutted for us to cross paths." Suel met this dark humor with a brief frown, but he soon smiled again and kissed the vulpine upon the cheek. "Fate does have strange ways of bringing people together," mused the druid, finding Desmond resting against the pudgy warmth of his body, and soon, both canine creatures savored one another's closeness and warmth. "It's so infrequent that I lie beside another walking, talking creature like myself," he chuckled, his cheeks bearing an incriminating blush, and though Desmond thought to prod him on the subject, he ultimately resisted the temptation. "You'll find me very different, then," chuckled the foxcoon, quickly wearing a blush of his own. "I often find myself paying for goods with flesh should I be short of money," he purred, "and I so rarely have any to spend."

Suel couldn't stop himself from grinning at the fox, his expression almost accusatory in a way, but simply lewd in another, but if he intended to say anything on the matter, Desmond didn't give him time. "A man as handsome as yourself, well, I don't think I'd mind repaying your kindness at all," Desmond said with a very bashful giggle, punctuated with a tender nuzzle into the wolvar's neck. Suel met it with a chuckle, then reached up, stroking through the long, silky locks that made up Desmond's hair, his roaming paw coming to rest on the single, thick braid that some of it was twisted into over the vulpine's right shoulder, providing some eye-catching asymmetry to his appearance. "I would accept no payment for an act of kindness, Desmond," said Suel in a gentle tone, almost a hushed purr, his lips but an inch from one of the tod's ears - colored purple, strangely enough, but he'd seen far more unusual coats and hides on creatures. "But to make love to a friend simply for fun and closeness," he began, his voice becoming more of a sensual growl, "how could I ever refuse something like that?" Though he was a creature who thrived on patience, Suel's paws were anything but as he untied the vulpine's well-worn trousers and slid them down, revealing a pair of legs and hips just as feminine and fine as the rest of his body. "My, Desmond," Suel murred, sitting up, stroking his paw down the tod's hip and along one of his slender legs, "I've never laid eyes upon such a beautiful body. Were it not for this," the wolvar paused with a coy smile, clutching Desmond's sheath in his cuddly, warm paw, "you'd be quite a vixen." In the brief moment of pleasure Suel's gentle grip brought him, Desmond sighed in contentment, but the remark about his androgynous appearance drew a chuckle out of him - one that sent a whimpering wince of pain through him.

Suel frowned at once and unhanded the tod's sheath, then stood. "Let me just fetch a little something for you, my friend," said the wolvar with a gentle tone, disappearing into a nearby nook of his den, returning with a large leaf, its' hue a very pleasing, healthy green. He tore off a chunk of this foliage as he knelt, and he held the sweet-smelling, bite-sized piece near Desmond's lips. "Eat this. It will ease the pain for a few hours." Desmond wasn't at all reluctant to eat the leaf, finding that it tasted as sweet as it smelled, and Suel continued to feed him bite after bite until the entire thing was gone. While the tod chewed the final piece, Suel stroked his head fondly and smiled in an absent way. "Forgive me for not thinking of this sooner. Whether you planned to share your body with me or not, I'm sure you would have appreciated this before." Desmond shook his head in a gentle way, though Suel imagined it had a lot to do with the fox trying to avoid sharp, painful movements. "Don't worry about it, it's fine," said the foxcoon, closing his eyes and relaxing against the bed of grass, his abdomen still screaming at him in pain; by sheer coincidence, Suel acknowledged his discomfort with a kiss on the cheek. "In half an hour or so, you'll start to feel better, Desmond. Until then," the druid paused, briefly putting on an almost involuntary, naughty smile, "perhaps I can make you more comfortable."

For as lewd as he could be, Desmond expected comforts like something softer to rest his head upon, something to eat, or at the least, cuddling from his pudgy, new friend, and so when Suel knelt between his effeminate legs and began nuzzling and kissing with little discretion on the erogenous, fluff-clad flesh of his balls and sheath, it was something of a shock. Bearing a smile that was simultaneously lewd and affectionate, Suel took the tod's sheath past his lips and sucked upon it, his tender paws coming up quickly - one rested on the tod's thigh, but the other clutched the vulpine's scrotum and gently groped that tender flesh. Even from these rather tame pleasures, Desmond sighed in sexual contentment and laid a paw on the back of the wolvar's head, not a gesture of domination, but of appreciation and affection. Before Suel could even fathom doing anything truly unusual to Desmond's sheath, the pink flesh of his penis began to emerge from it, rubbing against the tender muscle of the wolvar's tongue, stimulating both creatures in different, yet equally arousing manners. "Ooh," Desmond cooed, biting down on his lip, at a loss for what he could say to Suel to make the moment any better. Suel pulled his lips back, allowing the vulpine's erection to leave his maw, but his intention was only to gaze upon its' shape and size for a brief moment. He found the shape most pleasing - canine, much like his own, its' base flared with a wonderful, thick knot - yet the color was a solid, vibrant pink, quite a contrast to the pitch-black flesh of his own meat. "Mmm, wonderful," Suel growled, at once engulfing Desmond's penis, closing his eyes, treating his young friend to a very firm, wet sucking that he wouldn't soon forget.

Though by and large domineering with his partners, Suel knew how to please another male in such a manner, and he didn't consider it a blow to his masculinity to offer up such pleasures. The best gratification of all came when Desmond began to pant and moan, nonverbally coaxing Suel to suck him off harder and harder, begging for a climax, but as much as he savored the tod's enjoyment of the act, he had other plans for little Desmond. Lifting his muzzle up and off of the turgid length of Desmond's cock, Suel chained a few gentle kisses down its' length, ending with one on the knot of it, and from there, he nosed beneath the fluff of Desmond's sack and planted another kiss on the fox's taint. Desmond shivered at the feeling of a kiss in such a largely taboo spot, not that he was new to the sensation - and not that Suel was new to it, either. His affections upon the tod's perenium were brief, for he moved his lips a tiny bit lower and delivered another kiss, this one on the tightly puckered orifice of Desmond's tail hole. The moan that passed Desmond's lips was deep and quite long-lived, accompanied by a full-body shudder, but no flinches of pain. That was a very good thing, as far as Suel was concerned, but to cut his foreplay short would be a shame, and so he continued uninterrupted. In much the same way he'd begun teasing over Desmond's genitals in the most affectionate, yet benign ways, Suel licked tenderly across the involuntarily clenching muscle of Desmond's tail hole, putting his broad, moist canine tongue to work, giving Desmond a lewd, yet accessible pleasure that simply made him moan. "Suel, that feels so good," cooed the fox, rubbing fondly behind one of the wolvar's rounded ears, a gesture of affection Suel met with a rumbling murr and a wagging tail.

Suel dragged his moist tongue across the pucker of Desmond's tight, pink pucker again and again, leaving the clenched orifice wet with saliva before long, but as much as Suel would have enjoyed to keep teasing and pleasing young Desmond in such a way, the druid had urges of his own to satiate. Pulling his muzzle from the confines of Desmond's loins, he raised himself to his knees, then lifted two fingers to his lips. He looked down at Desmond's face, who looked back with blushing cheeks and half-lidded, blissfully aroused eyes, and winked teasingly at his cute young friend. For many moments, he suckled and slurped upon his fingers, and by the time he stopped, they were absolutely saturated in saliva, glistening and dripping with the moisture. The sight of them was almost as lewd as the grin on Suel's lips, which only intensified as moved them beneath the tod's balls, into a warm space the wolvar had just become intimately familiar with. Using only his index finger for the time being, the druid gently prodded the twink fox's tail hole several times, but soon after that, he slid the wet finger deep inside, coaxing a shuddering moan out of Desmond, one that saw him arch his back. Capping off the vulpine sissy's sexual theatrics was a deep whimper, but it was a noise of sexual gratification, not at all one of pain. "It's been such a long time since I've mated with a fox," Suel chuckled, beginning to rather slowly and gently pump Desmond's puckered tail hole, "but it seems the jokes and rumors are still true." He expected to see an indignant or at least bashful expression on Desmond's face, but no - the tod grinned at him, and not just any grin, but a toothy one. "Mmhm, pretty much," Desmond cooed, drawing his tongue over his jowls afterwards in a sinfully seductive way.

"It's good to know that I have, in my midst," Suel murred, adding his middle finger to his yet slow, careful pumping, "a sexually pliable vulpine boy of my own." Again, he winked at the tod, then glanced down at his work. With his free paw, he clutched the tod's fluff-furred scrotum and gently lifted it out of the way, giving himself a much better look at the naughty spectacle of Desmond's tail hole, clenched so tight around his fingers as they pumped in and out without cessation. "You're very tight underneath your tail, Desmond," said Suel with just about the most lewd growl he could muster, strengthening his efforts, slipping his saliva-dampened digits in and out of the foxcoon at a much quicker pace. "I must admit," he grinned at the fox, prying his eyes off the sight of his own work, "I'm eager to see how tight you'll feel around my knot." The flush of Desmond's cheeks was a genuine display of embarrassment, but his words were instilled with a sassy confidence that Suel found rather arousing. "Rrh, goodness, such aggression and domination from a peaceful, sweet druid," rumbled the tod, meeting Suel's gaze with a challenging grin. Suel chuckled and let his shoulders casually rise and fall in a shrug, one that only briefly interrupted his ruthless exploration of the twink fox's snug anal passage. "It's in my nature to be peaceful, yes," he mused, his eyes drifting back to the fox's asshole, "but by extension, I'm a born lover, and I wouldn't be a very interesting lover if I let my pacifism bleed over into that, now would I?" Capping off his self-observation was a wink, and the wolvar's explanation seemed to satisfy young Desmond, for he fell silent and merely laid back, savoring the pudgy canine's skilled touch.

Suel's paw was nearly a blur as he so quickly fingered Desmond, but his other paw, formerly clutching the tod's balls, was considerably more gentle, the touch one would expect from a devout druid. With it, he carefully stroked the turgid length of Desmond's penis and lovingly squeezed on its' throbbing knot, coaxing spurts of bitter-salty pre from the fox - as well as a lovely cacophony of impassioned groans and shudders. "How are you liking that, my young friend?" purred Suel in a low, confidential voice to Desmond, getting his answer in the form of a drawn-out, nearly whimpering cry. The wolvar chuckled in good nature and slid his fingers in to the hilt, then used his tender, padded fingertips to stroke along the wall of Desmond's colon closest to his prostate, gracing that gland with a massage that caused Desmond to squirm and whimper, so much so that he unconsciously bit down on his own paw to stifle himself. Though the sight aroused Suel, who also clutched the tod's knot, working upon him inside and out, he felt compelled to reassure the twink. "Desmond, there's no need for that," Suel said in a gentle tone, "you don't have to stifle yourself. Be as noisy as you want - I certainly will be." Following that was a chuckle, and he leaned over the tod's body, planting a kiss on the tip of Desmond's shaft, who had awkwardly released his own paw. "Mm, now then," the druid growled, pulling his fingers free of the twink, "I believe I'm ready. That is, if you are, my beautiful, young friend."

As it turned out, Desmond was not, but he doubted Suel would have any complaints. With some effort, finding his abdomen somewhat uncooperative even with the painkiller in effect, the effeminate fox moved to his knees, putting himself face-to-face with Suel. The wolvar smiled, offering Desmond an inquisitive tilt of his head, and the fox found him so endearing that he kissed the wolvar on the lips. "Stand up for me, Suel," purred the tod in a low voice, a sultry purr that was to be obeyed. Already, Suel had some idea of what was to come next, but he didn't get ahead of the fox, even if his grin did. Standing up straight, his swollen, black shaft hung but centimeters from the tod's muzzle, its' tip dripping with a viscous, slippery slime, and hanging below it was a nicely-sized ballsack, its' tender flesh covered in a downy fluff like his sheath. "Rrh, it's beautiful," growled Desmond with blatantly lewd appreciation for the wolvar's genitalia, punctuating his compliment with a long lick from the base of the knot to the tip of the shaft, accompanied by a shuddering, slutty growl, and an appreciative murr in response from Suel. "I'm very glad you approve, Desmond," Suel managed to say with only modesty in his voice, even if his grin was not so impartial, and he gently laid one of his paws on the back of the foxcoon's head. Desmond purred from this soft touch, finding it not domineering or dismissive, but affectionate as Suel had intended. With no further words, just a content sigh, the tod engulfed Suel's black, canine member in his maw, his warm jowls pressing up to the swollen bulk of the knot, and Suel shuddered in raw, sexual bliss.

Rare was the occasion that Suel had any sort of sex with another bipedal creature, though he wasn't a stranger to receiving a blowjob - but to get one from somebody as skilled as Desmond redefined the act for him. The only word to describe Desmond's technique was dynamic, for he never stayed still, and rarely repeated the same action. The tod bobbed and slurped and swallowed, twisting his muzzle this way and that, wrapping his tongue around the throbbing shaft like a corkscrew, putting the sheer length and breadth of it to very good use. Both of his paws clutched the wolvar's fuzzy scrotum, delivering precisely measured and timed squeezes and tugs to the tender flesh and glands within, but that pleasure was negligible in comparison to Desmond's skills with his mouth. Suel had no doubt in his mind that the fox practiced everywhere he went, exploring not only lands, but the bodies of those he stumbled across - he even wondered if the cute, young sissy had met his "friends," the clan of oversexed tauren warriors from across the forest. Then again, had they met a creature of his raw sexual skill, they probably wouldn't have given him up, leaving the notion as nothing more than an entertaining fantasy for Suel. "Ooh, oh, my guh," Suel grunted, biting down on his paw to stifle himself, much as Desmond had done earlier, but his other paw still rested on Desmond's skull, his fingers threaded through the lovely, silky locks of his hair. Pumping wad after wad of his bitter pre into the twink's maw, Suel began to pant - and when Desmond squeezed his knot, a true whimper passed his lips. "Enough, Desmond!" he gasped, clutching the tod's head with both paws, gingerly pulling him back. When he glanced down in the tod's direction, he saw that the young creature looked entirely timid, as though he'd been reprimanded for misbehaving, but Suel, with a blush dominating his cheeks, smiled and shook his head. "You've done nothing wrong, my friend," Suel shuddered, helping Desmond to lie back, "quite the opposite. But, as much as I would love to have my climax in that fine, velvet mouth of yours, I'd much rather share that pleasure with you, sweet Desmond..."

Suel was the very portrait of an attentive lover as he knelt between Desmond's parted legs and lifted the effeminate tod's hips. The smile he wore was surprisingly free of sexuality, and all it betrayed was a deep affection for Desmond. "I will admit," purred the wolvar, allowing the pointed tip of his black member to prod at Desmond's tail hole, "I very much appreciate the direct sexuality of mating with feral animals." Slowly, he began to penetrate Desmond, coaxing gentle moans and other soft-spoken sounds of pleasure out of the twink vulpine, which pleased Suel and saw his smile turn into more of a grin, but only just. "With four-legged animals, you won't find much, if anything in the way of romance or foreplay, just efficient sex; it's as casual as masturbation, but a thousand times more stimulating." The look on Desmond's face was awkward, to say the least, and it was clear that he wondered just Suel was going with his tangent. Thankfully, as the wolvar's bulbous knot kissed up against the lovingly stretched pucker of Desmond's asshole, he finished. "But, as conditioned as I may be to such instant gratification, to mate with another sentient creature, one who looks back at me with fondness and maybe even the beginnings of love as I enter him, it reminds me of intimacies I'd long forgotten." Treating Desmond to a cute smile, Suel leaned over the invalid tod's body and kissed him softly on the lips, then, with his nose bumped against Desmond's own, he whispered: "I thank you for that, beautiful young fox."

It was Suel's intention to straighten himself out so he could more effectively fuck the fox, but when Desmond wrapped those slender arms around his neck, that idea was abandoned without a care. For a brief time, they exchanged shallow meetings of lips and tongues, while the wolvar's hips oh so slowly rocked, pumping the sissy fox's very snug anal passage in a way both creatures found sexually delightful, but when Desmond did speak, the words amused Suel - not a manner of derision towards the fox, but simply in acknowledgment of his irrepressible sexual curiosity, the primary element of the common vulpine. "Suel," whispered the fox, his cheeks lit with blush, "what sort of animals have you had?" The wolvar's hips didn't cease. Rather, almost imperceptibly, he began to fuck Desmond a tiny bit harder, but no faster. "Oh, curious little Desmond," he chuckled, planting a kiss on the fox's neck, "many, many kinds. The wolves in these woods are very well-acquainted with my knot - and the opposite is true." He winked, and then nuzzled Desmond's muzzle fondly, increasing the pace at which he bred the fox, finding this new speed accompanied by soft, hurried huffs from the twink. "The wolves, their knots," Desmond gasped, "are they very large?" Suel closed his eyes in recollection and, as it happened to be, some nostalgia and longing. "Yes they are," he finally answered, his eyes slowly opening to meet the tod's gaze. "But no matter how much I enjoy a nice, thick knot under my tail, no creature is more satisfying than a stallion." Desmond's expression was, at once, completely embarrassed - and Suel couldn't help but grin. "A stallion?" Desmond squeaked, biting his lip afterwards. Suel merely nodded, then chuckled. "I know what you must be thinking, little Desmond, and yes - it was extremely painful at first, and I didn't think it would all fit, but if a fat druid like me can take it, I know a sleek little sissy of a fox like you could."

Suel was unaware of it, but as he spoke to Desmond of his equine experiences, he'd begun to fuck the fox harder and harder, breeding him with animalistic ruthlessness. His swollen knot punched against the tight pucker of muscle that was Desmond's asshole, leaving the pink flesh bruised and throbbing with discomfort, yet the fox said nothing on the subject, merely erupting with cries and yelps that were sounds of blissful eroticism, not pain. Very soon, Suel spoke no more of his experiences, leaving Desmond to process the mental image of the fat, cuddly wolvar laid prone on a tree stump, his ass cheeks split by a colossal stallion cock, meanwhile simply nailing the fox, fucking him for everything he was worth. Again and again, his mighty, knotted cock spit wads of thick, slippery precum into the tod, leaving that wonderfully tight anal passage well-lubricated for the ongoing fuck, and the only pain was the erotic soreness brought on by the wolvar's knot. "Oh, Suel!" Desmond said in a sharp, sudden gasp, squeezing tighter upon the wolvar's neck, his own jowls pulled up in a toothy grimace, his eyes squinted closed to complete the expression. Through his teeth, he uttered "fuck!" to the naughty druid, and Suel grinned, similarly closing his eyes. "Yes, Desmond," Suel growled, hunkering down over the fox, his potbelly pressed nearly flush against the inoffensively flat plane of Desmond's own stomach, his hips almost a blur. Over and over, that knot was cruelly pounded against the tod's quivering, bruised tail hole, but at last, it gave way - Suel forced his hips forward with all of his strength, knotting the silky-haired vulpine. Suel's cry was of a low register, almost a rumbling snarl of sexuality and bliss - Desmond's was much sharper, something of a whimper, but as Suel spilled his seed and entered his afterglow, both creatures soon panted and cuddled close to one another.

Suel would have been content to sleep atop Desmond as he was; the two of them were exhausted, Suel from the sex, and Desmond left tired from that, plus his ordeal that day, but there was one more thing to attend to. Moving up to his knees, his penis temporarily lodged in the twink's behind where both creatures felt it belonged, Suel smiled fondly at the tod and clutched his erection, immediately pumping the tender, pink meat in his paw, licking his lips in concentration. For a time, Desmond looked into Suel's eyes and savored the sight of the handsome wolvar, but as his climax grew closer, he laid back in the bed of fresh grass and huffed, at the same time squirming his sinfully flexible body, while his paws clutched at handfuls of the bedding. "Release for me, Desmond," cooed Suel in a soothing whisper, the words dripping off his tongue like sweet honey, "I want you climax like I have, now let it go for me!" To punctuate his request, he clutched the vulpine's swollen knot with his other paw, and Desmond replied with a whimper, followed soon after by his climax. In Suel's pumping grip, he shot high into the air, his semen completing quite an arc at the apex of its' shot, and when it came down, it left a neat line of white slime from his throat down to his navel; two subsequent shots, though nowhere near as large, added to the pleasant mess. Smiling at the tod's climax and enjoying the sight of his squirming, panting body, Suel gave Desmond's penis a fond squeeze and murred to him. "I hope you'll return to me one say, sweet Desmond..."

"Oh, Suel," Desmond huffed, his eyes still shut, his lips pursed between fragments of speech, "you don't have to hope..."