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Fevered Dreams

Night had fallen on Third Earth, the sort of quiet, peaceful, comforting darkness that made it seem all was right with the world--that made it easy to forget everything that had been lost, all the death and pain and destruction, and the very real horrors which dwelled out there in the shadows--but as he lay back on his sleeping pallet and tried to find a comfortable position, Tygra couldn't seem to stay still, and with a sigh he knew why.

Sitting up to brace one hand on the ground and his shoulders against the nearest tree, he glanced around the campsite. To one side, at the edge of the forest clearing, loomed the enormous, bulky silhouette that was the Thundertank, nearly lost in the encroaching shrubbery and twisted trunks, only the moonlight making it visible as it gleamed off of treads, weaponry, and other stray bits of metal. Not far from it, near the pit where their fire had nearly burned down to ashes and crumbled bits of wood, the huge, blue-gray form of Panthro lay slumbering on his back and snoring as loudly and raucously as the tank's engine. Incongruously, curled up beside him under each massive arm lay the sleeping balls of fur that were Wilykat and Wilykit.

For a moment Tygra forgot his discomfort to smile to himself. It had taken him a while to become used to and accept the little street urchins, let alone to find them amusing and friendly company--partly, he was sure, because he'd lived his whole life in the palace while they were from the slums of Thundera. But he had to admit they'd been useful on occasion, and more importantly, they had a tendency to grate on Lion-O's nerves...which made them good in Tygra's book.

The fact they had so taken to Panthro despite the general's decided lack of enthusiasm was just as entertaining to him...and the fact that for all his protests to the contrary, he seemed to be protective of them was rather heartwarming. Not that he wouldn't blackmail Panthro with knowledge of these night cuddles if he had the chance...

Aside from their sleeping forms, however, the clearing was empty. As usual, Snarf seemed to have vanished, likely curled up out of sight in a hollow log or some such. As for Lion-O and Cheetara...

Tygra sneered to himself. Off 'learning to use your sword' again, bro? Not that he blamed him; despite the very dire straits they were all in, the destruction of their civilization and people and the ever-growing power of Mumm-Ra, one simple fact remained--they were still teenagers, with teenage desires that wouldn't go away just because a towering evil loomed over everything. No, what bothered him was that Lion-O had latched onto Cheetara as the means by which he could satisfy these urges...which meant unless he wanted to risk the cleric's wrath by muscling his way into her affections, he had to find another outlet. And...there wasn't any.

He glanced down at himself and sighed resentfully. There'd never been a problem like this at the palace. In one of the few ways he hadn't minded Lion-O being the heir to Thundera, the lack of most political and royal duties had left him plenty of time to himself. Time he had used not only to train himself into peak fighting condition with the likes of Panthro and Grune (though he was trying very hard to forget about that second teacher, when he wasn't wondering how blind he too must have been not to see his treachery coming), but also to dally with plenty of noble daughters of the court. And, of course, to take matters in hand in the privacy of his own chambers.

None of that was to be found here, however--not even the privacy, what with the constant traveling, fighting, and ongoing struggle to master technology. Not to mention all the company, particularly the inquisitive kits and an old mentor with far too eagle an eye to allow for much time alone, laxity, or even leisure time. The only time he had was the rare occasions like this one, late at night when he should be sleeping...

Feeling another insistent throb from below the belt line, Tygra looked around furtively once more, making sure his brother and Cheetara were nowhere to be seen, that the others were still asleep. Then he reached down and swiftly undid the fastenings of his pants.

With practiced surety and swiftness, he had them open and had drawn out his throbbing maleness--immediately eliciting a sigh of relief. Much better. Grasping his shaft, which was a quite acceptable and admirable seven inches or so, he half-closed his eyes and let out a blissful sigh, relaxing back against the tree trunk and spreading his legs upon the pallet.

Though he knew he could stroke one off rather quickly and easily, and such a thing was a good idea if he didn't want to be caught by his brother and Cheetara returning (not to mention get any sleep for tomorrow), he couldn't help wanting to savor it. It did feel so good, after all. And so he stroked slowly, luxuriating in the texture of his fingers rubbing and sliding over tender, slick flesh, letting out soft growls and yowls of arousal under his breath as he worked himself to complete and raging erection, his pre drooling downward in thick, slippery runnels over the backs of his fingers, then down through the white fur of his balls and eventually pooling on the pallet.

Lazily, he smiled to himself, allowing his eyes to flicker closed for just a few moments as he thought of Lion-O. I may be second-born, but you're still second best. In more ways than one...

Warm lips were suddenly pressed to his--softly and gently at first, even shyly, but then with increasingly fierce vigor and hunger. He growled amorously, receiving one in return just as laced with passion and desire, and kissed back, tongue working fiercely in his lover's mouth even as he marveled at the odd taste, much more rich and flavorful than he'd expected a woman's could ever be. But when he opened his eyes to see whom he was kissing, it wasn't Cheetara.

It was Lion-O.

Instantly Tygra sat up, every muscle tense, limbs flailing a bit and a half-uttered curse springing to his lips. But this was cut off by his brother kissing him yet again...and even as he tried to protest, he couldn't help noticing in shock that the young lion was incredibly good at it. In fact by the time Lion-O let him come up for air, he was extremely, undeniably aroused, more so than he ever recalled being, his cock drooling and spurting until his thigh fur, and the lion's abdomen, were wet and dripping.

He struggled to think, to formulate words through his hazy lust. "Lion-O? What...?"

"Shhh." His brother smiled at him, neither his usual brashness nor his shy insecurity in evidence, his voice a low, almost seductive whisper. "Don't think about it. I know you've wanted this for a long time, brother. So have I. Just let it happen..."

Tygra's eyes widened. How had he known? He'd thought he'd been so careful, so sure, hiding his lustful admiration of the younger Thunderan behind wry smirks and cocky sarcasm, hiding his sneak peeks at Lion-O's lithe but muscular physique while mockingly sizing up his opponent, and finding him wanting.

His brother didn't allow him to contemplate it long. Even as he sat against the tree, mind reeling, Lion-O was carefully, methodically undoing the buckles and straps of his armor, removing each piece until the golden and cream fur of his torso was completely bared to the moonlight. His hands then went to his own belt, undoing it and shucking his pants down to the knees--the whole time his eyes never leaving Tygra's face, filled with a hero worship, fervor, and lust he'd never seen there before.

He only had time to swallow before Lion-O was kissing him again, pressing him back into the rough bark of the tree, and by the time that one ended, leaving his brother's taste singing in his mouth and the memory of that agile tongue working, delving, seeking and conquering, he felt ready to explode. The lion smiled at him again, knowing and confident. "You're ready, bro."

Before he could ask what exactly he intended, or where Cheetara had vanished to, Lion-O had pulled back and twisted dexterously about before him--posing himself on all fours, a pair of deliciously tight and alluring buttcheeks flexing at him above an equally attractive set of shapely balls. His brother grinned at him over his shoulder, orange-red hair almost glowing in the moonlight. "Come and get it...or don't you feel you're up to the challenge, bro?" He even dared to wiggle it at him teasingly.

Tygra didn't have to be told twice--nor was there any way he'd take that taunt lying down. With a soft snarl he leaped from his pallet across the intervening space, pouncing eagerly on his exposed backside. Somehow he knew just what to do, as if he'd rehearsed it, his arms wrapping around Lion-O's narrower chest to hold him in place, his weight settling upon his brother's back to keep him pinned, his hips pulling back and wriggling forward to fit his leaking tip into the relatively tiny opening awaiting it.

"You're right, I've been waiting for this for so long...and I want to enjoy it," he murmured, and then with a fierce grin shoved himself inside.

To Lion-O's credit he neither cried out in pain nor struggled, in fact he actually angled back and thrust his golden hips to accept his brother's cock with even more neediness--he must have practiced, preparing himself for this moment. Moaning deeply under his breath, he tensed, and then it was Tygra's turn to moan as he felt something so strong, so exquisitely tight, closing around his member. It was better than any woman he'd been with, so much heat and pressure he nearly climaxed right then and there...but no, he was going to make this last as long as he could.

Slowly at first, the striped Thunderan angled his body back and forth, working his hips in increasingly wider circles, slipping in and out of his brother's ass even as he also stretched him open. The other cat's soft, yowling cries suggested he was doing it right, but it was the way that tight opening clamped around him which truly convinced Tygra--nothing which felt so good could be wrong, in any sense of the word, and suddenly he didn't care if Cheetara were to show up right this moment and remove all her clothes before his eyes...nothing could compare to these sensations.

Thrusting a little harder, a little faster, he let out soft, amorous groans of his own. He couldn't remember the last time he'd relieved his rampant lusts, but even if it had been just the night before it still felt like a lifetime ago. He had to have it now, this instant, as many times as he could get it. "Nnngghh...bro, you were made for this...!"

Lion-O chuckled softly between grunts. "Whiskers, Tygra, I bet you say that to all the cats you take to bed."

He had him there, but this time Tygra actually meant it. "Only the ones with rumps meant to be pounded."

"Well, you can have mine whenever you want..." The look of utter devotion on Lion-O's face made Tygra's breath quicken. He'd always wanted to see that look, to know his brother admired him, looked up to him, ignored all the precedent and protocol of being the heir so as to defer to him in everything. Especially in matters of dominance.

Before he was even aware of it, he was driving every thick inch into that slickened passage, that place which mingled soft, velvety flesh with iron-hard muscles, only to draw back again and impale him even deeper than before. The pace quickened along with his breath, and his hands gripped Lion-O's chest for purchase as the sticky, decadent sounds of rapid feline fucking filled the night air of the clearing. Even if he'd wanted to go slow to spare his brother, he couldn't hold back, and it seemed he didn't need to worry anyway--one way or another, the lion had experience at this, took his full size and every thrust with only soft growls and moans, and even drove his hips back to encourage him to ride him even more vigorously, their balls slapping together in delicious rhythm.

So that was what he gave him.

Over and over he drove into Lion-O, building up speed until their bodies came together with audible smacks, a rather delectable slurping as he leaked more and more lubricating pre into his brother, the grinding of fur, and the increasing lusty moans from both their throats. The tighter the leonine Thunderan clamped around him, the harder Tygra speared him, not merely to prove his dominance and greater strength but because the pressure set off rutting instincts of intense power within him. And the heir to Thundera not only enjoyed every thrust and grind against his tender insides, he seemed to revel in being his brother's bitch.

How much time passed, the striped feline didn't know...it seemed to be ages that he plowed in and out of Lion-O's receptive tailhole, his thick shaft stabbing into him over and over, sluicing through his slippery fluid and churning about inside those gripping muscles, one arm holding the smaller cat in place while the other hand squeezed and stroked that throbbing lionhood--which, though he hated to admit it, was only a little smaller than his own. And if Lion-O kept growing...

As if that thought had caused it, or perhaps it was the tightening of Lion-O's ass around him, Tygra gritted his teeth and let out a snarling cry as his balls leaped, beginning to unload their hot, viscous contents into that waiting passage. Feeling his brother spasming and clenching beneath him, he thrust in deeper, all the way to the hilt, wanting to feel those tight walls clinging to him, the way his hand did to Lion-O's jumping shaft, both feline members becoming wonderfully slick with their prolific teenage loads. He closed his eyes, reveling in the tightness, the heat, the repeated throbbing and squirting...

With a gasp he opened his eyes--to find himself leaning back against the tree trunk once more, exactly as he'd been before his brother's arrival, with Lion-O nowhere in sight. The only difference, he discovered as he sat up and looked down at himself, was that his hand, belly, and cock were covered with thick white cream. He stared at this for several dumbstruck moments, his mind still buzzing and reeling with orgasm, even as he idly stroked and caressed himself, until it sank in.

"Just a dream," he muttered. "All just a dream." That explained it, of course. He'd never really bugger his brother like that. Wouldn't give Lion-O the pleasure (hah!) of thinking he lusted after that young, lithe body, after all. Plus he was his brother. It was all just his need to let off some steam, those pent-up hormones of his, added to the constant proximity of his brother and their adversarial relationship coming through in his body's desperate fantasies. That was all it was, nothing more. That was all it ever could be.

Though he did have to admit, asserting his dominance and prowess over him in that manner would be...satisfying, in more ways than one.

Leaning back against the rough bark, Tygra chuckled softly. He could still feel his balls throbbing with need, and his cock hadn't gone down one inch. As usual, his body wasn't ready to quit just yet, it had more virility to work off. Closing his eyes once more, he let his mind drift as he continued lazily pumping and caressing his shaft, the fruits of his last release rendering his member more slippery than ever, his flesh shiveringly sensitive. He let out a soft yowl, quickly muted...

Not quickly enough. Before he could do more than gasp, he suddenly felt a heavy arm wrap around his shoulders and shove him down to the ground, while an equally massive hand covered his mouth to keep him from crying out. Wildly he opened his eyes, staring up at what should have been a star- and moon-filled sky shining through the forest canopy--instead blocked out by a gigantic, very masculine silhouette looming above him.

He only had a few terrified moments of wondering how Grune or one of the lizards had managed to infiltrate their camp...and curse himself for how his own maudlin descent into uncontrolled lust had made him careless and inattentive...before he recognized the other's scent. And then an extremely deep, gruff, authoritative voice cut through his fears and self-recriminations.

"Starting without me, kid? Real poor sportsmanship there, when I'm the one who taught you everything you know. Good thing I can catch up real quick..." Panthro?!

It was indeed the older general-turned-mechanic. How he'd gotten from the other side of the camp so swiftly and silently at his size, let alone without disturbing the kits, Tygra had no idea, but he couldn't look to check because the enormous blue-gray mass of muscles had him pinned to the earth and trapped. And even if he had been able to ignore the very musky scent rising from that colossal chest which could not even be confused for the sweat of exertion, there was no possible way he could ignore the extremely solid, throbbing mass below the gigantic red stone in his belt, or how it pressed against his own bare loins.

And...he liked it.

Panthro smirked down at him, fangs gleaming like his shining eyes and the spikes upon his bracers and shoulder harness, as he slowly uncovered Tygra's mouth. "I always had my eye on you. You showed a lot of promise--always had Grune's skill and strength, his cockiness too...but not his ambition. You turned out into a pretty good fighter. And a cat anyone would want in his bed." He licked his lips, powerful hands kneading at Tygra's shoulders. "Now that I've finally got you alone, it's time to see if you take to these lessons as good as you did the others..."

The prince gasped, throat dry, unable to formulate words again, for a completely different reason. Panthro compared him favorably to Grune? He thought he was a superb fighter? He...desired men as well? He'd always wondered about that, when watching the bald Thunderan and his fellow general working out and training together in the arena or the palace courtyard--the two had seemed unnaturally close, and quite tactile with one another. The fact both of them, especially Panthro, had been the same way with his father the king had made it seem even more likely. But it wasn't exactly something he felt comfortable discussing, especially with one so much older, wiser, and, well, dominant.

"Hmph. Cat got your tongue, huh? And here I thought you always had a smart remark ready." Panthro chuckled deep in his broad chest. "Well, if you aren't going to tell me what you're good at, I guess I'm going to have to stuff that pretty little mouth of yours--since you're not using it, and it's already hanging open--and find out for myself." And before Tygra could find his voice, or snap his mouth shut, the bigger Thunderan was already loosening his belt and undoing the fastenings of his trousers.

A masculine scent, stronger and more intense than any he'd smelled before, suddenly wafted up from that opening, and then he found himself staring at a growth of blue-gray hair as thick as Panthro's mutton-chops, proliferating in a huge bush around a member very much sized to his hulking body--it had to be at least nine, maybe ten inches, and nearly as thick as the grizzled cat's wrist--and visibly throbbing as it leaked profusely from its gaping slit, the clear fluid coating purplish glans and fat ebony shaft in equal measure.

Swallowing hard, Tygra couldn't pull away even if Panthro would let him. Despite his considerable ego, he could admit when another cat was clearly more skilled in combat, wiser in counsel, greater in strength...or more of an undeniable stud. And since he'd yet to encounter a male he respected, admired (or secretly lusted after) more, he didn't even hesitate--with a low growl he bent forward and lunged, engulfing that pulsing head in his questing mouth.

He almost choked--aside from having little experience at this, Panthro was, obviously, a very large male. But Tygra was nothing if not persistent, and as determined to prove himself to his mentor as a true Thunderan male as he was to sate the urges within him in an entirely different way...by properly servicing his better. So after a few moments of swallowing hard, breathing deeply through his nose (thereby being treated to an increasingly pungent cloud of feline musk), and working his tongue around over the hardened shaft to sample its oddly compelling taste, the striped cat nerved himself and began pushing his muzzle farther onto Panthro's plentiful inches.

Unsurprisingly, Panthro shuddered and let out a deep, rumbling growl of arousal as he was so pleasured, and that thick onyx cock throbbed harder than ever, jerking in Tygra's mouth so that it scraped a little against his teeth. With each pulse, it grew thicker and harder, more of a mouthful for the smaller Thunderan to accept...but he refused to be intimidated, instead continuing to breathe through his nose so he could bob his head up and down that length. And soon he found that the more he suckled, the more he could loosen his jaw so as to work harder, faster, taking more and more between his lips...

As he drove his head more rapidly in and out of Panthro's lap, he heard the bigger cat moan above him, such a lusty, virile sound, and then he felt that heavy hand on the back of his head, holding him in place as it stroked him in approval, almost tenderly. "Aww yeah...I was right about you, kid. Great mouth. You were made for this...oh, keep that up..."

Tygra smirked to himself; even when he was the one in a submissive position, he still came out on top, so to speak! Peering up at that massive scarred chest looming above him, then Panthro's enraptured, blocky features, he felt a surge of pride--he was doing this, he was giving so much pleasure that the older cat had practically become his plaything. That hand might have been guiding him, shoving him down, but he was in control of how much and how hard he suckled, where his tongue swirled and caressed, how his lips pursed and clung to every sensitive bit of flesh. And he would use that power to its greatest extent.

Taking another deep breath through his nose (and feeling rather light-headed from that intense, rich scent), he slid his tongue along the bulging underside of Panthro's plump shaft, stroking the vein that lanced up it and the thick, swollen tube that would carry his seed...and then he shoved forward and down, driving as much as he could of that cock inward until its broad, angled head popped into his waiting gullet.

Panthro cried out, and Tygra would have too if his throat weren't so stuffed and blocked since the larger cat's cock (particularly its glans) suddenly swelled and throbbed harder than ever. Even when it relaxed, he still felt so stretched, and the sensation of the elder Thunderan's tip sliding in and out of his gullet was both disconcerting and intensely arousing. Panthro's hand on his head kept him shoving in and out of that angling lap whether he wanted to or not...but he wanted to, he couldn't get enough of that overpowering taste, the heat pulsing against his tongue, the solidity thrusting between his lips. With another low moan, he applied himself even more assiduously to bobbing and suckling.

Once again he lost track of time, had no idea how long he worked at his task. It could have been hours or minutes; all he knew was the constant throbbing in his muzzle, the lusty groans and snarls from above him, the feel of Panthro's thighs flexing beneath his hands as he gripped and kneaded the sculpted clusters of muscle there, his balls rolling and churning in their blue-gray sac whenever he fondled and groped them. It wasn't until the general's breathing quickened, his growls became more prominent, and those thighs became like unyielding granite beneath his fingers that Tygra came back to himself...just in time to receive his reward.

The veined cock within his mouth lurched, jerked, and grew hotter than ever, and he felt those heavy orbs pull up, tighten, and pulse as they began pumping out their contents. Then he was breathing through his nose as his cheeks were suddenly bulging with warm seed, his tongue covered with it, one thick wad after another bursting flavorfully from that yawning slit...jet after jet hosing down his throat, bulging out his neck even as he struggled desperately to swallow it all while sticky trickles escaped the corners of his mouth as Panthro held him firmly in place with both hands. "Aww hell, kid...nnnnghhh...yeah, that's right, drink it, drink it good, boy..."

He gasped, moaning--and sat up abruptly, his whole body shaking and trembling. Once again he was leaning against the tree trunk, alone. Once again he had covered himself with another creamy, viscous load, this one covering not only his abdomen but splattering all over his heaving chest. Squeezing his rampant, tender, yet oh so needy erection in his hand, Tygra peered across the clearing, his vision hazy with sleep and the power of that last orgasm. Panthro was still there in his bedroll, the kits asleep under each arm as proof he had not, in fact, been disturbed during the night, his clothes properly cinched and fastened, not a sign that his loins had released their bounty...although he could have sworn, for a moment there, he caught a whiff of his masculine scent on the forest breeze...

Shakily he ran his free hand over his face, wiping away the sweat of both lusty exertion and uneasy fear. Apparently his moans and cries had all been in the dream too, since no one else was awake. And Lion-O and Cheetara still had not returned from wherever they were. While the back of his mind wondered if that might mean what he thought it did--and he didn't know whether to growl in jealousy or actually, for once, commend his brother for becoming a man--the rest of Tygra could only feverishly contemplate his new dream.

Despite his cockiness, and his determination to lord his skill in battle and statescraft over Lion-O as proof that he should have been the rightful heir of Thundera--or at least, that Lion-O would always need him at his side to do what he couldn't--the striped cat had no problems admitting Panthro was his superior, in more ways than one.

While of course Father had taught him all manner of weapon-wielding and battle strategy, had trained with him in the barracks, courtyards, and arenas of the royal palace, it had been Panthro who'd been in charge of most of his physical education. Grune had supervised and taught him as well, of course, but far less often--which might or might not have been a lucky thing, since if he'd been around the saber-toothed cat more often, Tygra was sure he would have detected signs of his incipient treachery sooner, so as to either prevent those seeds from sprouting or at least warn Claudus and Panthro before it was too late. But then again, he might also have fallen under Grune's influence...

Shaking his head, Tygra sighed softly. What was it Jaga used to say? Something about three things that can't be called back...a spent arrow, a spoken word, and a lost opportunity...

In any event, with so much time spent under Panthro's tutelage, honing his body into peak physical condition so as to be equally adept at hand-to-hand, weaponsplay, and the honed instincts necessary to gauge and overcome an opponent even before battle was joined, there was no way he couldn't have gained the greatest respect and trust for the scarred general. And Panthro in turn, while not as sparing in praise as Grune, had always been quick to show his admiration and trust when Tygra had performed well in his lessons. He'd looked up to Panthro, always wished to please and learn from him, had seen him as a role model (along with Father) of what a Thunderan male should be.

So of course that would be why he'd fantasize about the cat, about pleasing him and showing him his strength and skill in a whole new way. That was all it was, just another way to satisfy his lusts while acknowledging a male with so much meaning in his life, an ally and comrade he still looked up to and whose esteem he never wanted to lose. That was it. Of course it was.

Licking dry lips, Tygra peered up once more through the canopy at the moon, which had shifted farther across the night sky until it had partially sunk beyond the treetops. If he expected to be of any use tomorrow, he needed to get some proper sleep. And of course, surely his brother and the cleric would be returning at any moment. But, his member was still pulsing, his balls still aching and refusing to leave him alone. Sometimes it really doesn't pay to be a teenager. He could still squeeze off one more, he supposed there was no harm in that...surely that would be enough.

Fetching a cloth from his pack where it was propped up against a rock beside his sleeping pallet, he made short work of cleaning himself up, though he knew he'd need to wash it before one of the others, especially Cheetara, found it. Then, settling back into place with a grunt, he cradled his sac with a tug and a caress, growling softly to himself and smiling a little as he once more began to stroke. He'd stay awake this time--while the experiences of those dreams had been heady, incredible, and overwhelming, bringing him off more pleasurably and intensely than he recalled in a long time, they were also just a little too disconcerting for him. He didn't need another! Besides, he had to stay awake to make sure he didn't get caught, and to actually enjoy the experience this time.

Pumping his shaft, which was even more slippery and lubricated since he'd left it untouched by the cloth, he rumbled in delight, eyes closing for just a moment as he tilted his head back, face turned up into the moonlight...

A pair of arms encircled him from behind--strong, powerful, masculine, even thicker and bulkier than Panthro's. Giant golden paws grasped his pectorals, kneading and gripping firmly, warm breath brushed across his cheek, and then a voice...a deep, rumbling, achingly familiar voice...spoke in his ear. "Finally, son, I have you all to myself. And you are ready for me, you have earned your place..."

His eyes popped open and he turned his head. There he was, the one he had respected, admired, and trusted more than any other male. There was no mistaking that rich, flowing mane of brilliant orange and vermilion, brighter and deeper than Lion-O's--nor those severe, arching brows, solid and squarish profile, and scarred nose. It was his father Claudus...and in his eyes was something he had never seen before. Not merely approval, love, or pride, but a sense of equality...and desire.

Tygra tried yet again to explain, to understand, to question how this could be; unlike with his brother and Panthro, this was manifestly impossible--he could not use his brother's sword to induce visions, nor enter the Book of Omens, and even if he were to believe the Clerics' tales of spirits and otherworldly guardians of the dead, no ghost could be as solid as this. "Father? What...how..."

Like his son and heir had earlier, Claudus shushed him although far more directly, moving his paw up to cover his mouth even as he raised a finger to his own. "Do not consider what is possible, only what is. Your brother will be king, it is he who will save Thundera and restore our people to glory...what makes you think I have no connection to or interest in you? He needs you, he cannot succeed without you, and so I still watch over you both." He paused and smirked rather suggestively. "And what I see now is a boy who has become well and truly a man...and therefore deserves my final lesson."

Before Tygra could ask what he meant (although he was fairly certain he already knew), his father had uncovered his mouth and leaned in closer. Suddenly he realized two things--that the massive lion's scent was stronger than it had ever been, even in the training arena, a scent which was not that of exertion but of extreme arousal...and that the former king had removed his breastplate and pauldrons so that his cloak rested on bare shoulders and that gigantic chest was also revealed to his widened eyes.

He'd seen it before, of course, but never from so close...instinctively he placed his hands upon it, cupping and fondling those dense, heavy pecs as his father had done to him--only unlike his, Claudus's were rigid and unyielding, as if they were no different than the breastplate which usually covered them. As his fingers brushed over each firm, light brown nipple, the lion purred throatily...and then he was kissing Tygra fiercely.

Even had he any desire to resist, that wonderful, intense, lustful kiss would have completely dispelled it. And he didn't want to resist, for although he'd denied it to himself for so long, he had always secretly desired his father--wanted the great, impressive, undeniably male Lord of the Thundercats to underscore how Tygra was the more dutiful son, the better warrior and hunter, and a true and loyal prince by granting him this most coveted honor...to be deemed worthy of the king's own bed...

Falling backward of his own accord, without even realizing he was doing it, he soon found himself lying in the forest loam, Claudus's immense frame grinding down atop him as he pressed his advantage, muzzle joined to his with all the confidence and dominance to befit such a virile and charismatic male. Tygra couldn't keep his hands from roaming all over that heaving chest, experiencing a secret and illicit thrill whenever his tugging, twisting, and flicking of the lion's nipples made Claudus groan and shudder--as in that moment it seemed even his father was his to toy with, seduce, and command. He could feel each of the lion's abdominal muscles flexing, clenching, and rippling against his cock as he ground it upward, drooling heavily into the cream-colored fur covering them...but the power contained within them was much in evidence in those heavy paws which gripped his shoulders to pin him to the earth, ran down his arms to squeeze and massage his biceps...and in the hips which were grinding and thrusting against his own.

As deep, amorous growls began resonating in the king's chest, Tygra realized that his father's trousers were also absent--realized it because he suddenly felt something incredibly hard and thick jabbing into his thigh, followed by a prolific gush of warm stickiness in his fur. Staring down between their bodies, he gasped...Claudus's member was larger even than Panthro's, staggeringly girthy and curving upward proudly, its cream-colored length and deep pink glans glistening and slick with the pre that rolled and drooled down its sides from its puffy slit like clear lava.

As he watched it visibly throb and jerk, growing thicker and then returning to its previous size with each pound of the lion's heart, Tygra swallowed hard and tried to protest. "I...I don't think I can--"

Claudus cut him off with another sizzling kiss, then murmured between tugging and pulling his lip with his teeth. "Oh yes...of course you can. I...never misjudge these things. You...are ready..."

It was these words that made his protests die; the last thing he wanted was to make his father think he was not worthy! And if he could handle that great shaft...he could handle anything. Nodding slowly at first, then more rapidly, he ran his fingers through the thick patch of mane which grew between his father's pecs, then kissed him back with just as much passion if not more. Spreading his legs, he felt that thick knob of flesh poking, sliding, shoving against and then under his aching balls, then a gush of heat against his waiting anus that made him yowl, then moan. "All...all right, Father. Do it then..." He swallowed again. "Please." He was proud of how steady his voice was.

Chuckling softly, the large lion dragged his tongue along Tygra's cheek and jaw, then down the side of his striped neck as his lifted his hips and maneuvered them into position. "That's my brave son..." With a long, slow, but irresistible pressure, he began to push his inimitable shaft into that waiting ring.

Tygra cried out, a loud and snarling roar that immediately prompted that strong paw to cover his mouth, but even after he buried his face in Claudus's mane to muffle the sound he couldn't stop the moans--or the tears which sprang to his eyes and trickled down to soak the musky hair. He'd never felt anything like it, so much larger than his own fingers and so solid, like one of the lances carried by the palace guard, stretching his ring wider than he could ever have imagined. Yet just when he was sure he would tear, that he would scream in agony, he felt the angled helm of the lion's glans rub over a particular place within his ass--and the agony dissolved into bliss of such exquisite intensity that he saw stars before his eyes.

His father seemed to know what had happened, as with a satisfied grin he returned to kissing him--and now it was moans and whimpers of desperate, lustful need which filled the lion's muzzle instead of ones of pain. Still gripping Claudus's chest, Tygra found himself wanting more, needing more, needing it all, and so he shifted as much as he could beneath that massive bulk and angled his hips upward...working to push more of that fat scepter between his clenching cheeks. His father groaned in tandem as Tygra's tight ring and inner walls closed over him, and he had to smile at the look of euphoria on Claudus's face--he was the one making the lion feel such pleasure!

How long it took to fully sheath his father's member inside him, Tygra had no idea...all he knew was that the constant pressure, stretching, and penetration was both maddening and incredible: the more full he became, the more the need grew to push it back out, but at the same time the more he longed to fully accept it so he could experience more of that grinding and rubbing against his most sensitive spots. Back and forth Claudus rose atop him, drawing his hips away until just his head remained piercing him, only to sink back down and spear him yet again, and though Tygra gritted his teeth and hissed at the sensation, he also panted and longed for it. He would never take this from any other male (well, perhaps Panthro...), and he certainly wouldn't want Lion-O to see it...but for his father, he would do anything...

Soon Claudus was picking up the pace, impaling him again and again until he slid in and out once every minute...then two or three times per minute, or so it seemed to his son; he just knew the lion was entering him much faster and more often. At first he remained tightly gripping that intruding member by default, but as his inner muscles gradually loosened, Tygra began to flex and clench deliberately--smirking to himself as he again saw the look on his father's face, one of startlement and surprise turning to lusty approval and pride. "Mmm, that's right, son. Don't make it too easy for me..."

Following his directive, Tygra made sure to time his clenching to Claudus's thrusts...relaxing to let him penetrate as deeply as possible, then bearing down to make it harder to withdraw, making that passage as tight as possible. The lion groaned, supporting himself on both hands so he could drive up and down with more passion and ferocity, his chest darkening with sweat that dripped down onto his son, and with every pounding drive his well-sized balls began slapping and smacking heavily against Tygra's taut cheeks. The striped Thunderan groaned too, shuddering...the more he received, the better he felt, until it took all his willpower not to beg. Instead he bit his lip, then dug his claws into Claudus's pelt and angled upward with a hard, vicious thrust.

Feeling that, Claudus grinned down at him, eyes shining in the shadows beneath his mane, his golden circlet also glinting in the moonlight. "So that is how it shall be...well then, let me show you how a Thundercat mates..."

And then he was lost in a wild, nearly feral rutting that put his earlier claiming of Lion-O to shame, teaching him he had much more to learn from his father before he could consider himself as skilled in matters of sex. That awe-inspiring cock--was it a foot long? Longer?--slid in and out of him with great ease now thanks to the unending streams of pre that spurted within him, each shot so forceful and copious he swore he could feel it striking his guts as well as overflowing his ass to soak his thighs and balls. And that muscular body hovering over him only rose and fell with increasingly needy motions, circling and punching within his eager rump with all the determination and strength of a king, of one who belonged there and was only taking his rightful spoils.

Tygra gave himself up to the wanton abandon burning within him, angled his hips up to meet every strike and slam, matching his father's speed and even pushing it farther, every sound from his lips now a yowling moan, his claws digging into those slab-like pectorals as both their musks became more prevalent, stronger than anything which had yet filled the forest clearing--though of course Claudus's was the strongest. And he didn't care how this would look, what it might mean about himself, the striped Thunderan only threw himself more and more intensely into it until he managed to make even his great father bounce, rock, and gyrate atop him with the force of his upward thrusts.

On and on they mated, the world falling away into nothing but overwhelming pleasure, and Tygra realized he would not wish for anything else. The feel of those chiseled abs grinding against his own rampant maleness, their soaked fur gliding and caressing against his sensitive flesh until he roared in delight...those enormous golden and cream thighs tensing and bulging as they drove Claudus downward to meet his rising ass...the amazing sensation of that bulbous head and wide shaft throbbing with the lion's heated blood as it plunged in and out of his gaping ring...even the strangely comforting feeling of his father above him, sheltering him, protecting him as he did when Tygra was a cub, even as he staked ownership upon him... It was all wonderful, perfect, something he would never tire of--something which felt so right, he knew he could belong to no other.

Shuddering and trembling as he felt his balls growing hotter, tighter, and heavier with each grind against that spot deep within himself, he wrapped his arms tightly around Claudus, ramming himself upward to bury every single inch inside while he in turn buried his face in his father's musky chest mane. With another roar he climaxed, his chest and belly blossoming with slippery heat as he also spurted hard over his father's torso--and as he clamped down tighter than ever around the lion's cock, Claudus heaved and shook with his own orgasm, ducking his maned head down to bite into the side of Tygra's neck, marking him truly as his.

So much heat...so much power flooding his insides, overflowing and spraying in a messy halo from his anus, soaking his groin and thighs as well as the ground yet still filling him too. He could feel it bursting again and again inside him, each potent gush bulging out his abs briefly the same way the king's cockhead did as it ground up within him...the contents of those churning, contracting balls which pressed hard between his asscheeks, which just seemed to keep releasing without end...and with it he felt complete. He took it, he took it all, as only a true Thundercat could, and felt all the more empowered by it. Could Lion-O have handled this? No, this was yet another thing which his brother had not beaten him in and never would...

He gasped, opening his eyes--and instead of finding his face pressed into his father's musky chest, he was once more alone against the tree trunk, though the musk still lingered. His musk. Because as he looked down at himself he discovered he'd not only undone his previous cleanup efforts by covering his chest and belly with seed, he'd also thoroughly soaked and splattered his face.

Gasping, shuddering, panting, Tygra leaned against the rough bark for a long time. Even after his final violent orgasm had passed, and his dripping, cum-covered cock finally began to soften and relax, he stayed there...staring off into space, trying to come to terms with what he'd dreamed. His father...his own father, Claudus...

Nope. I've got nothing.

Well, actually he did have a fairly good idea what lay behind that dream, but he didn't want to think about it. It was far easier to dismiss it as wishful thinking, a last longing hope for what had been lost, and some very, very overactive hormones...

Hurriedly, as he noticed a faint lightening of the velvety darkness of the night sky, Tygra grabbed another cloth and began mopping himself clean. He'd just finished, and gotten his clothes properly fastened again, when at last he heard rustling in the underbrush and spied two silhouettes moving through the trees. Slipping back down into his sleeping pallet and pulling the blanket over him, he pretended to be fast asleep, although he kept his eyes open a slit to watch.

Sure enough, there was Lion-O, moving apace with Cheetara and staying pressed quite close to her side, one arm around her slender shoulders and idly trailing fingers through her hair. Tygra couldn't completely quell the stab of jealousy, especially when he heard his brother's chuckle and saw the cleric's hand rest far longer than he thought appropriate on the other Thunderan's waist. Both of them moved apart eventually to head toward their own bedrolls, but as they did so he heard a few snatches of words.

"...sleep well, Lion-O. I look forward to helping you train much more with your sword..."

"Oh don't worry, Cheetara. I'm sure with your help I can...become one with it." The orange-maned lion's voice was quite suggestive, and very cocky.

Tygra bristled and fumed in the darkness...but as he listened to the sounds of the two cats turning in, and even caught the low, fierce rumble of Panthro sleepily chastising Lion-O for coming back so late, a thought occurred to him that made him smirk, teeth bared and gleaming from the shadows in dark satisfaction. Oh, you'll become one with a blade all right, brother. Just not the one you think...

And whatever else that might mean for the future, as Lion-O grew into full manhood, at least one aspect of that dream might just come true after all. One he would enjoy even more this time around...and as many times as possible...