Thanksgiving
"Benjamin, come downstairs! See who's here!"
The shrill and anxious voice went unheeded as I balanced precariously on the back two legs of my chair, propped up by my hooves pressing against the edge of my desk. My shorts and boxers were stretched out around my knees, and one of my hands gripped my dick, pumping furiously, the other tugging lightly at my sac. My breaths were short and harried, and every so often, my leg would jerk a bit, kicking at the economics textbook I'd been reading from and crinkling the pages. My chest rose and fell, my fur bristling and thick while my unbuttoned shirt threatened to slide off my shoulders.
I was so close. Oliver's bushy tail, hiked and primed, wagging so eagerly like a dog's, flashed incessantly in my mind's eye. I pictured him, bent over, his hands on his bed, gazing back at me with those hazel eyes glazed over with lust. He was begging for me. My hand squeezed tighter around my shaft, and I groaned as my loins clenched. Not quite, but so close!
"Benjamin!"
"Just a second!" I hollered back, frowning and biting back a growl of irritation. Authority always accompanied Mom's voice, predominantly when she was upset, but nothing ever compared to her excitement, and she was being especially impatient right now. Even up here, I could her squealing with joy, and I huffed a bit. My sister, the golden child, must have finally arrived. It wasn't without irritation that I recollected that this would be the first Thanksgiving we'd all had together in quite a few years, ever since Grandma and Grandpa passed away. Honestly, I would've been okay had Elizabeth stayed at school.
I stalled in standing up from my desk, reluctantly drawing my pants back up around my waist, my erection softening quickly, and started to button up my shirt. It was extraordinarily difficult not to frown. Not only was I still incredibly pent up, but Elizabeth's arrival put another damper on my mood. She was just a year older than Oliver and myself, but this was already her second year in college. I may study a lot, but that doe was a certified genius, and a right pain in the rear. The bud of jealousy that had lain dormant blossomed, its petals stained red and green.
Oliver's voice was noticeably missing from the rising cacophony growing downstairs that celebrated my older sister's arrival. The past couple of weeks he'd rarely been home, always running around with that otter friend of his or out doing who knows what. While I won't say that I was envious, I'd not realized how cold and empty the room got when he wasn't here. Whenever Oliver came home, he was always out of breath, but he'd have the biggest smile on his face, like the best thing had just happened to him.
"Benjamin!" Mom's voice called out again, sharp and antsy.
"I'm coming!" I shouted back, struggling in my bout with procrastination. Standing from my desk, I tripped over some clothes that lay on the ground and muttered a not so silent but luckily muffled curse. They weren't Oliver's, they were mine, and I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. "Get it together, Ben," I chastised myself. The past week had been more than rough due to a plethora of major decisions I'd had to make, and I'd been slipping as a result thanks to the stress. A lot of my carefully crafted habits started falling to the wayside. My desk was cluttered, and I'd gotten behind on laundry. I was constantly exhausted, and then there was the elephant in the room; my libido, shifting into prominence like it never had before, and my only real source of relief was never home when I wanted him, when I needed him.
Kicking the dirty clothes over towards the hamper, I walked out of the room, my hooves clacking loudly as I bounded down the stairs. Everyone was in the living room. Dad sat in his recliner, typing on his laptop and giving a brief glance around to make sure everyone was still alive. Elizabeth sat on the couch, nestled between Mom and Guinevere. Out of the does, Elizabeth was the lightest with Mom following after. Her fur was just a shade darker than Oliver's, with them leaning more towards brown than gray unlike the rest of us. She looked respectable, wearing a long-sleeve turquoise and white striped skirt and blouse with a lavender scarf, but there was a bit of unease in how she sat, hunched over, knees together, like she was closing herself in. "Hey," I said, smirking at her discomfort.
"Hey, Ben," she responded, giving me a pleasant enough smile. I wasn't buying it. Folding my arms, I slumped against the wall next to the mouth of the staircase.
"So, Elizabeth," Mom started, with the biggest smile I'd seen from her since my scholarship ceremony plastered on her snout, "we've barely heard from you this year! How's your second year been treating you? How are your studies in...? What was it, Multivariable Calculus?" Mom grinned even wider. The fact that her daughter was studying something she could barely remember, much less comprehend thrilled her.
"Oh, classes are going fine," my sister said after a moment. I gazed at her, trying to catch a glimpse, maybe a look of guilt. She didn't look back at me.
"Wonderful!" Mom said, not catching Elizabeth's hesitation. "Your brother will be joining the college world next semester," she said, looking at me with sparkling eyes. "Did you know he might be going overseas? What school was it, again?"
"Cambridge, for psychiatry," I said, twitching my ears and playing it off as if it weren't a big deal. Mom always had this way bragging whenever one of us did something 'exceptional'. That wasn't to say that I wasn't proud of my achievement, but I didn't want someone to brag on my behalf. She didn't mention how much additional stress had been piled on to my load.
Mom continued with her momentum. "And Guinevere will be touring with the Honor Orchestra of America this coming spring," she said with a glow that only grew brighter. Guinevere nodded her confirmation, but my sister was too shy to even speak, even when just surrounded by her family. She sat there, hands neatly folded on her skirt in a properly lady-like fashion. It didn't matter, though, as Mom was doing more than enough talking for the three of us. Dad looked up, opened his mouth to interject and realized it was a futile effort. Mom place her hands over her chest and smiled, her fangs glistening. "I'm so proud of all of you."
"What about Oliver?" Elizabeth asked. "How's he doing?" I felt another pang of something that wasn't quite jealousy. She's was curious, interested, instead of how cordial she was with me. Elizabeth had always favored my brother over me, probably because he wasn't as much of a threat. Oliver just couldn't compete with her the way I could. "Where is he, anyways?"
"Oh, you know. He's out and about, doing who knows what without a care in the world," Mom said, the tone of her voice suddenly much more flat and dismissive. "Though, you'd think on Thanksgiving, he'd be here with his family."
"Oh, well, you know. It's not that big of a deal. He'll be home later, I guess." Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders, and I got the feeling she'd wanted to say more, but had thought the better of it.
"May I please be excused to go practice?" a rather timid and ghostly voice spoke up, and both Elizabeth and I glanced towards Guinevere. The doe bowed her head before looking at Mom.
"Of course, my dear," Mom said, clearly pleased by Guinevere's manners. "Just be sure to come back down for dinner, alright?" When my sister bowed and took her leave, Elizabeth quickly scooted over to take her place. As if the gap had freed her, she seemed much more relaxed. Mom tapped the now empty space. "Ben, why not take a seat?"
"Oh, I'm okay, Mom," I said quickly, smiling. "I'd rather stand to be honest. My legs are cramped from being stationary for so long." It wasn't a lie; I hadn't been moving up in my room, but I highly doubt my mother, sharp and insightful as she was, would even think that her son had become a chronic masturbator over the span of just a couple of months.
She seemed to accept that, and my Dad took the opportunity to chime in. "So, Elizabeth, we're thrilled that you're studying so hard, but have you made any friends? College is a great time to start building that social network. The connections you make will last you your entire life."
"Yessir," Elizabeth nodded. "There's a couple of girls who get me to hang out with them sometimes."
"No guys, I hope!" and when Elizabeth shook her head, Dad started laughing. "Well, that's good! So you and your friends hang out at the library?"
"Yeah, and some other places." My sister raised her shoulders a bit and I watched, incredulous, as my parents ate up her story. As intelligent as they were, they were so enamored with her that they couldn't see she was blatantly lying? My Mom was a lawyer, and she bought everything; hook, line and sinker! My eyes drifted from my mother to my sister, meeting hers, and time seemed to slow to a crawl as I found myself staring daggers at her. At the same time, my stomach sank into a burning pit. Had she rolled her eyes or smirked at me, I would've been fine. I expected that.
I didn't expect that look of absolute boredom, and for some reason, it ached like an unblocked reverse punch to the gut. She looked at me with complete disinterest; not even as if I weren't worth the time, but more like I wasn't even there. Her eyes looked heavily lidded and glazed over, like she was trying her best to keep from just falling asleep. A phone started ringing, and Mom stood up and headed to another room, her cellphone blaring. I welcomed the distraction, an excuse to break off eye contact with Elizabeth and avoid it. Everyone turned and primed their ears.
"Jonathan, I told you not to call me unless it was an emergency! Don't you know... what do you mean, they settled? Who author... What?! Terms? And they didn't consult me, first?" Seconds later, Mom stormed through the living room, her joyful expression gone, replaced by what could only be described as 'Lawyer-mode', a little term Oliver had come up many years ago. She disappeared into the master bedroom for a few minutes then reemerged, fully dressed in a business suit, her hair pulled into a tight bun. "I work with a team of imbeciles," she apologized, stopping by Dad to kiss him on the snout. "I won't be gone for long, just three hours or so. Could you look over the food and make sure nothing burns?"
"Go do what you do," Dad said before continuing to type. "We'll eat when you get home." Mom went to each of us and kissed us on the forehead, apologizing profusely. When she finally left and the door closed behind her, Dad closed his laptop and stood. "Guess I'd better learn how to cook," he said with a laugh. He went into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Elizabeth.
An awkward silence followed for five minutes or so before Elizabeth finally slumped back against the sofa, crossed her legs and looked at me with a perked eyebrow. "Are you gonna sit or what? You standing there so stoically is pretty weird." Now that Mom had left, it was safe to take a seat, so I chose the sofa perpendicular to where Elizabeth sat. Everything about her had changed in an instant; the way she sat, the way she spoke, it was so... like my brother. She wasn't who I remembered at all. She wasn't who I competed with. "So Cambridge, huh?" she asked, quickly changing the story.
"Yeah."
"Gonna go?"
I couldn't take it anymore. "What's with you?" I asked, hands pushing against my knees. "What's with... with all this?!" I gestured, an act that, in retrospect, probably looked like I was wildly flailing my arm. I didn't care.
Elizabeth barked; some odd mixture between a scoff and a laugh, not necessarily cruel, but certainly not loving. "With what?" she asked, her brows furrowed in an odd combination of a scowl and a grin with a hint of disbelief.
"You... how you are? You used to be so... but now you're so... you're so much like...."
"Use your words?" she chastised, confusion and amusement waging a war for control over her expression.
"Like Oliver! The way you're sitting! Your pose, your demeanor, it's all wrong!"
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at me, and I did the same back towards her. "All wrong?" she said slowly, her shoulders rising. "You're upset because I don't have a stick up my ass anymore?" Her language struck me harder than if she'd slapped me. "What's wrong with 'acting' like Oliver, anyways? Ever think maybe he's the one who's got it right?"
"What in the world are you talking about?" I said, suddenly in a hushed voice, glancing towards the kitchen. Had Dad heard Elizabeth's curse? The last thing I wanted was for him to think I'd been instigating this. I saw his shadowing moving back and forth, but he didn't seem to be paying us any attention.
"Look at you, cowering, afraid of getting in trouble. You ever know what it's like to actually live? To have friends? To have fun?"
"Hey, I have plenty of fun!"
"Doing what? The only time you ever used to go outside is to do your martial arts crap."
Now my shoulders started to raise. I was being put on the defensive, and I didn't like it. "Hey, did you even stop to consider that I might 'like' doing that, and I have 'fun' doing that?" I growled.
"Oh, sure, and it's not at all because you wanted a black belt to add to your college resume."
I wanted to say something, anything to prove her wrong, but the fact of the matter was that she wasn't. Five years ago, when I'd first picked up the martial art Tae Kwon Do, that had been my sole reasoning. I didn't care about self defense or any of the tenants. I wanted a Black Belt to prove to the College Board that I could start and finish a lofty goal, and I had just a few months ago. That was my satisfaction, my fun. "Feh, it doesn't matter."
My sister ran her fingers through her hair, brushing a few loose strands from out in front of her eyes. "What's your deal, Ben?" she asked, focusing her eyes on me for the first time.
"What do you mean 'my deal'?" A strange heat rose in my chest, a bizarre mixture of anxiety, fear and anger. I wasn't scared of her so why did I feel like this? "What's your deal?" I was furious with myself, forced to react, to play defensively.
"My deal," she said sharply, "is that you don't get how big of a dick you are! The moment you came downstairs, you started sizing me up and glaring at me. You want everything to be this big competition, and you want to win, and that's all you care about. You treat everyone like crap!"
"I treat people like crap? You're the one coming in here and having everyone fawn all over you!" I growled. "Do you know how hard I have to work just to try and keep up?"
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "So, how's that my problem? You're the one who wants the attention, not me. I never asked for it! You can have it!"
"It's pretty hard to do when you're flaunting your genius everywhere."
"'Flaunting my genius'? Are you... are you kidding me?!" Elizabeth's voice rose an octave. "Are you being serious right now?! What..." She looked around suddenly before leaning close, her voice dangerously low. "What the fuck is wrong with you? When have I ever 'flaunted my genius'? I never said I was better than you or smarter than you."
I stood up, my fists clenched. My chest burned and my muscles were tensed. I heard her words, but for some reason, they didn't click with me. They weren't true. I knew exactly how much she loved the attention. I remembered her special graduation; how the speakers celebrated her phenomenal SAT and ACT scores while mine, while great, still paled in comparison. I remembered attending all of her scholarship ceremonies, while she missed mine on account to being overseas in Spain. It wasn't fair that I worked so hard and she could so nonchalantly pass it off as my own failure.
The next few minutes were a blur. I remember saying something rather nasty, but I don't remember exactly what. When I came to my senses, I was back in my room, door shut and locked. The only source of light filtered through the blinds covering the window, illuminating the room in a dull, gloomy glow thanks to outside's overcast sky. Guinevere's music, faint through the closed down, was as melancholy as ever, perfect for my mood. I kicked at the clothes covering the floor, eager to take out my frustration on something that couldn't fight back.
"Fucking bitch," I hissed bitterly as I cleaned my room. Elizabeth had reminded me of how I'd started slacking off. No, that wasn't acceptable. I wasn't going to let her be better than me. I couldn't make any more excuses. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of watching me fail.
A strange giddiness overwhelmed me, and by the time my floor was spotless, I felt pretty good. I stretched and took a deep breath when there was a knock at my door. "Yes?" I answered.
"Ben, honey, are you doing okay in there?" Mom's voice was soft, caring. She didn't want to be overheard. How long had I been cleaning?
"Yes, ma'am," I responded, moving closer to the door. I took a second to glance at the clock. Well over three hours had passed since I'd first locked myself away. I slumped against the door, but didn't open it.
"You don't need to open the door, honey. I know you've been dealing with a lot of stress, especially recently. I just wanted you to know that I love you, and I'm really proud of you."
I don't know why, but I felt my cheeks flush to the point of aching. I covered my snout with my hand for a moment, trying to stabilize myself, before nodding. "Thanks, Mom," I said, my voice cracking in a way that it hadn't since about a year ago.
"Since your brother's finally home, we're going to have dinner here in a little bit. Be sure to come down."
I acknowledged and Mom left. If I listened carefully, I could just make out the voices of everyone downstairs. Unlocking the door, I eased out, unnecessarily stealthy, tip-hoofing until I reached the banister and looked down. Oliver and Elizabeth were on the sofa, chatting merrily with each other. I could see my brother's tail drumming eagerly; he must have been ecstatic to see her. Guinevere helped set up the table with Dad, probably anxious to get back to her room and her violin. I made my way downstairs, my head held high and chest out.
Oliver was the first to notice me, his smile wide and innocent. "Hey, bro! Look who's here!" he about shouted, the patter of his tail against the sofa growing louder by the second. He turned back towards Elizabeth and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her into a hug. "Ohhh, I missed you so much, Beth!"
"O-Oliver! Not so tight!" Elizabeth gasped, and it was hard to resist smiling. He might be my twin, but Oliver's childish enthusiasm was charming, to say the least. Still, seeing him so happy to see Elizabeth infuriated me again, but all that anger managed to do was make me a bit unsteady. It took a lot of effort to mask my face so I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.
I left the two of them and headed for the dining table, wonderful smells wafting in from the kitchen. While no one was as good a cook as our late Grandmother, Mom was still really proficient at it despite not having the time to cook often. Thanksgiving was a special time for us given that most of us were so busy that we never ate together. We messed up last year, but Mom was adamant that we return to our tradition.
"Alright, everyone, let's say Grace," Mom said, calling everyone to the kitchen. We formed a loose circle, with Mom standing next to Dad. Guinevere was next to Mom and myself, and Elizabeth stood between Dad and Oliver. We all bowed out heads and held hands, waiting for Dad to begin, though I could feel Oliver shuffling uncomfortably.
"Heavenly father, we've gathered here today to celebrate family; the wonderful family that you've blessed and protected. We celebrate your love, goodness and mercy. We offer before you a show of our togetherness, proof that we will endure even the most challenging of situations. No matter what happens, we'll stand beside each other. Amen."
A chorus of 'amen' followed, and everyone took a seat at the table, with Mom and Dad at the ends, Oliver and I on one side and Elizabeth and Guinevere on the other. There were so many different types of food, I didn't know where to start. Ham, turkey, cabbage, rolls, greens, yams, macaroni and cheese; my stomach rather rudely announced its displeasure at my inability to decide. I ended up started small; a few slices of ham, some dressing and some collared greens.
Despite the absolutely amazing food, and the compliments focused around them, discussion was light and sporadic, just as it usually was. I wouldn't say it was uncomfortable or tense, just that everyone seemed to focus on eating as fast as they could. Oliver was too busy stuffing his face to talk as was expected, and I didn't expect Elizabeth to be much of a conversationalist. Guinevere never spoke unless spoken to, and even that was painful so I didn't even try. Mom and Dad spoke, mainly to each other, and the table gradually emptied, both of food and of people.
The next few hours passed swiftly as a peaceful atmosphere took advantage of full bellies. Everyone seemed to disperse, each retreating to their own personal method of entertainment; Dad on the laptop, Mom on her tablet, Elizabeth on her cellphone, Guinevere to her precious violin. I'd gone back upstairs, fattened and content, and slumped on my bed, watching the idle ceiling fan until my eye drifted closed.
The sound of giggling roused me from my nap, and I rolled over to see Oliver on his back dressed in only a pair of boxers, hooves crossed, his nose buried into his 3DS. I'm not certain why, but I didn't call out to him, not just yet. Instead, I watched my brother play, smiling at his antics. The sounds were turned low, presumably so that I could sleep, but I could still tell that he was playing Mario Kart. I could follow the game through his expressions; his joy at getting a useful power-up, his frustration when he got sideswiped off the track, his wins, his losses. Innocent and honest. My brother was beautiful.
My brother.
Mine.
The thought played through my mind over and over, growing louder and louder. Mine. Not Elizabeth's, not Guinevere's, not Mom's or Dad's. Not his friends'. He was mine! He belonged to me and no one else!
This morning's arousal, stymied by Elizabeth's unfortunate arrival, surged back at full strength. I wanted him, and I would have him. I didn't care that there were people in the house. A brief glance at the clock confirmed the time at a little past 10; Mom and Dad were certainly already in bed. I looked towards the door and smirked. Shut and locked. Wonderful.
I rolled out of bed, my motions slow and deliberate, stepping over the clothes my brother had strewn on the floor. Oliver was so wrapped up in his game that he didn't even notice. He was so involved that it wasn't until I actually climbed on to his bed that he pulled the game down, folding his ears back, startled. "B-Ben?" he stammered, edging a back a bit while he closed the DS and laid it on his chest. "I'm sorry... I thought you were asleep. I didn't mean to wake you up."
"Well, guess you'll just have to make it up to me," I said with a smirk, crawling towards him. In my mind's eye, I saw myself like a panther advancing on his prey. My brother tried to pull his legs together, but I'd maneuvered between them, leaving him vulnerable. In just a few seconds, my snout was only centimeters away from his, our eyes locked with each other. I took in his face, his rather unkempt auburn hair, his freckles, his broken tusk, but mainly those rich hazel eyes, shimmering. He was so beautiful, like a rose sans its thorns.
Oliver averted his glance and tried to edge backwards, but I placed my hands on his shoulder. He'd showered not too long ago. I could smell the shampoo he used; vanilla, sandalwood, delicious scents that only made me want him more. "C'mon, Ben, what're you doing?" Oliver whimpered, wincing as his lip caught on the edge of his tusk as it was oft to do when he was nervous.
"Taking what's mine," I whispered, sliding my right hand past the band of his boxers, letting my fingers curl around his balls, palm pressed against and massaging his quickly growing shaft.
"W-wait," he tried to protest, his breath already becoming labored, but I shut him up with a method that, to be honest, I just assumed would work. I leaned past his cheek and bit into his neck, my own tusks penetrating deep into his fur. He gasped, his body going tense for a moment, his breath cut short, and he bloomed into a full-blown erection.
I held him in that bite for who knows how long, letting my hand molest him unimpeded. It didn't take long for his tense body to slacken and then begin to writhe, and his terse breaths gave way to long and lusty moans. I released my bite on him and took in his sight again, how he responded to my touches just like before. "It's been too long," I growled, my pants tenting painfully. My middle finger reached from his balls to stroke along his scrotum, aiming for that tender rosebud just underneath his tail. It circled around for a few revolutions before pressing against that star. "Mmm, you want this, don't you?"
"I... I-uaaghh...." He moaned even louder when I pressed with a bit more force. With each moment, I felt more and more of his hesitation slip away.
"Don't make me ask twice," I warned, a most predatory grin on my face. A new heat filled my chest and my stomach. I didn't know what this feeling was, but I liked it. I liked it a lot.
"B-Ben, please..." he started begging, and I pressed forward again, getting such lascivious moan out of him that even I was slightly surprised and taken aback. Only slightly, though.
"You're such an adorable little fawn," I chastised cruelly, licking where I'd bitten. My index finger joined my middle, roughly spreading Oliver's rear without the slightest bit of lubricant. Each wince and whine of protest he made spurred me to press in even rougher. He tried rolling to the side and managed to turn enough that his DS fell from his chest. His hands pushed against my chest but his attempt to resist was quickly pacified, and his hands fell back on the comforter, gripping and pulled as he squirmed around.
"It hurts..." Oliver whined.
"Shh, I know, I know. It'll feel better soon," I cooed, kissing his cheek. He flinched yet again, and I squeezed his shoulder, pushing in with my fingers until the middle phalanx of both were submerged within him. He felt so soft and warm and I reveled in his squeak when I started curling my fingers. I massaged his insides, all too aware of the hard and dribbling cock that was pressed against my belly. "Who's my little slut?"
Oliver bit his lip. When he didn't answer, I shoved my fingers in all the way to the knuckle, earning an absolutely delicious squeal and a muffled "M-me!" when he rushed to cover his snout with his hands.
"And who wants my dick inside him?" My smile grew. I was giddy. I hadn't even taken off my clothes, but I was so horny it ached. I wanted in him badly, but this was too much fun.
"Me!" he whimpered through his hands, casting a nervous glance towards the door.
I let go of his shoulder and grabbed his jaw, squeezing and making him whimper again. "Listen, slut, if you don't want anyone to hear you, you'd better keep your mouth shut." He nodded, his eyes wide. "Do you love me?" When he nodded meekly again, I squeezed down and made him flinch. "Say it!" I demanded.
"I l-love you..." he complied.
"And do you want me?"
Oliver glanced up uncertainly, but the moment I started tightening my grip on his jaw, he stammered "I... d-do...."
I smirked in victory. "Here's what we're going to do. You're going to undress me and yourself. Then you're going to lie on your back and spread yourself open for me. I'm going to fuck you and you're not going to make a sound. Got that?" When he nodded, I released his jaw and pulled my other hand free from his rump, sitting on my knees. "Now get to work!"
Oliver followed my orders to the letter though his ears were splayed to the side. He unfastened my pants while I pulled off my shirt. I rested my hand on his head, pressing him against my waist. He looked up at me, his eyes shimmering with lust, confusion and something else I couldn't recognize. "W-what?" he asked, his voice quivering.
"Make it wet. It's all you're getting," I commanded, guiding his head until his nose pressed flush against my tent. Oliver squeezed his eyes closed as his fingers curled around my waistband, pulling down and unveiling my aching dick. I sighed happily at the relief and groaned when his soft tongue teased the head. "Mmm, that's a good boy," I muttered, pulling his head forward, sigh as his warm wet muzzle enveloped my shaft. I gripped his head with both hands now and began to thrust my hips forward, rapidly increasing the pace until the head of my cock slammed against the back of his throat. Occasionally, I could feel myself brush against his teeth, a feeling that would send a mild shiver rolling down my spine.
Oliver's body began to seize when I tried forcing my cock down his throat and his arms flailed, pushing back away from me. I finally released his head and he fell backward, gagging and gasping for air. "D-dude! What the hell?!" he asked, wiping the drool off his muzzle with the back of his hand as he struggled to regain his breath. His hair was a mess and drooped over his eyes.
I pressed my advantage and grabbed Oliver's hooves, drawing them up and over his head, and forcing the fawn against the sheets. My cock rubbed, nestled in the white fur that highlighted his rump and thighs, sliding along his scrotum until the head pressed against his tailhole. "Hope you got it wet enough," I grinned, make a full show of my own tusks. Gravity guided my descent as the head of my dick slowly spread him apart.
"Nunugh..." Oliver gritted his teeth as I pressed into him, his fingers digging into his comforter. Without lube, there was a lot of resistance, but still, I pushed forward, slowly and steadily. "O-oww, please stop, Ben..." he cried out when I'd just reached a third the way in. "You're hurting me...."
"Shut up unless you want people to hear you!" I spat at him. I was deep enough inside that I no long needed to hold his legs so I let them go. Instead, I grabbed his shoulders, dug my fingers in, and pushed twice as hard, ignoring his growing cry in place of my own pleasure.
And wonderful it felt, indeed. My hips met his after only a minute, and I immediately retracted so I could thrust back in again. Oliver's body rocked with each of my thrusts, the fawn covering his mouth with his arm and biting into his elbow. With him doing that, I couldn't see his eyes, but I didn't need to. He squeaked and whined every time I slammed into him, and that made me only want to do so even harder and faster. His dick flopped against his belly and I felt a droplet of pre splash against my nose.
I wanted to flip him over so I could really get in deep, but I just couldn't bear the thought of my cock leaving this tight warm sleeve. My hips drilled into him just as quickly as my heart was beating. I could feel my arousal spiking, that wonderful pressure building within my balls. "F-fuck..." I groaned, and Oliver mirrored with a louder moan. His ass tightened around my cock as his own began to shoot small jets of cum on to his belly.
Seconds later, I followed suit, that pressure exploding into my brother's bowels, flooding his ass with my seed. Groaning, I buried myself as deep as I could, my back arched, my head held high. I ground my hips against him, milking myself in him before I finally pulled out, panting, my cock slick with my own juices. Oliver slumped against the bed, his chest heaving. I grabbed his hoof by the ankle and lifted it, exposing his seeded rump. The sight of my cum staining the white fur on the underside of his tail reignited the fire in me. More. I wanted more!
Pulling his ankle over, I rolled Oliver on to his side, and from there, grabbed his waist and set him on his knees. Just like a doll, I could position him however I wanted, and he didn't even protest this time. That wasn't any fun. I wanted to hear him. I grabbed his tail with one hand, yanking it up while grabbing his head with the other. His yelp was muffled; his fangs were biting into his comforter, and his fingers was squeezing the sheets. "Mmm, yeah," I hissed between my tusks. "I think someone needs another breeding. Isn't that right?" I squeezed his tail until he cried a response.
The head of my cock ached, and I knew just how to sate it. I didn't even need to guide it into Oliver's ass; the second I felt his tender star, I slammed my hips forward, sinking into his warm flesh yet again. Letting go of his head and tail, I grabbed his hips and dug my fingers in, pulling his body into mine. "Who... who's my bitch?" I grunted between thrusts, pushing as deep as I could go. Between Oliver's cries, I could hear his cock smacking up against his belly, probably just as as hard as mine.
He loved it. I could tell from his grunts and whines, that desperation when he started pushing back against me. He wanted me to fill him again, and of course, why wouldn't he? He knew. Oh, he knew. He knew just where he belonged. He was mine, and he'd always be mine, and the cum that flowed out of his ass would be mine. When I exploded in him this time, it was the fiercest I'd ever felt. My cock seized, and I felt a solid load jet deep into him. I held myself in him, feeling my cock throb in his squishy cream-filled insides.
I'd gone soft by the time I'd finally pulled out, trailing a glob of cum that rolled down my brother's thigh. I peeked underneath his still body. Yup, the comforter was drenched with the deer's own seed. Oliver hadn't made a sound for the past minute or so, and he hadn't moved. I rolled off his bed and looked to see him, eyes closed, his ears flat. He'd passed out completely. I strolled over to my own, a grin on my face. On the way there, I flicked the switch next to the door, starting up the idle ceiling fan to cool the now very muggy room. My bed squeaked as I crawled into it, sighing as the artificial breeze blew through my fur.
"Ahh, I feel so much better now."