FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Backdoor

Chapter 75

Etienne disappeared into the forest with the daughters of Kutre for six days. When he returned, a pair of golden wings had grown from his back. The foxes were in awe of him and bowed in a ripple as he returned to the ruin. He found Judith and the escort easily enough, and when he stopped near their fire, the males gawked up at him, while Judith's lips curled in a small smile.

"Alright," Etienne said breathlessly. He grinned. "Ready to go?"

They packed up and prepared to set out at once. As they were clearing the fire, Etienne noticed Judith and Connell passing furtive looks, exchanging kisses on cheeks, and he smiled as he realized Ti'uu had finally possessed the old Pointer. Good for them, he thought. With all the terrible things happening around them, it was about damn time someone was happy.

Etienne thought of Azrian and often wondered what she had meant about him being unable to follow her. He asked the daughters of Kutre as much, but they responded vaguely -- like typical godlike beings -- and pressed him to focus on his training. They taught him to conjure fire, summon lightning, make himself invisible (a difficult focus spell that required all his concentration), and how to fly. Growing the wings was terrible and painful, and they told him he would have a hard time truly mastering magic, as he had not been born a demigod but had been made one on Ti'uu's whim. As a result, he was more mortal than godlike, and this made him weaker than other demigods. It was not a comforting thought.

Etienne tied his cloak around his shoulders to hide his wings, though he had to wonder how he would expect to hide them later at Wychowl. After all, he couldn't go on wearing a cloak forever. When he expressed his worries to Judith, she told him the wings were something he could hide at will. He could make them invisible with magic -- though in reality, they would still be there, getting caught in doorways, smacking unsuspecting passersby on their heads. Etienne then asked if Hellene was employing the same methods to hide her wings, but Judith shook her head and told him Hellene's wings were not something physically growing out of her back. The response baffled Etienne, so he dropped the matter.

In sharp contrast to his formerly angry and bitter self, Reed seemed calm and content after his three-day stint with the daughters of Kutre. Etienne was surprised to find he had made friends with a few of the foxes during the prince's absence, and as they were preparing to set out, Reed stopped to hug his newfound friends and kiss them farewell.

While Reed was lingering to talk and laugh, Kesuk and Crawley seemed only too eager to be off. Crawley wanted the "glory" of strutting through the capital as the prince's personal bodyguard. He believed it would be a slap in the face to every mastiff who had scorned him for what happened at the academy.

But Etienne knew Kesuk's impatience had everything to do with Seretse. Kesuk wanted to be away from her, before he gave in to temptation, before he allowed something to begin that would break them both.

Seretse said farewell to Etienne, but she kept glancing sadly at Kesuk, who was avoiding her eye. "And you will be welcome among the Children of Kutre," Seretse said to Etienne in careful, well-practiced common tongue, "forever and always --"

"Will you come back!" little Teliso blurted. He had shouted the question at Kesuk in his language. Etienne had spent so much time among foxes that he now had a basic grasp of their language and could understand Teliso. Apparently, Kesuk could understand Teliso as well. And Etienne was not surprised: the northern breeds had to understand the fox tongue to trade caribou meat and tools with them.

Kesuk dropped his eyes.

The little boy stood, thin chest heaving, as he waited angrily for an answer. "You said you'd teach me to fight with a sword," he accused. He frowned sadly.

Etienne watched the exchange unhappily. He had never imagined that Kesuk had spent so much time with Teliso. But many things could have easily happened while Etienne was away.

"I did say that, didn't I?" Kesuk said in fox tongue and squatted before the boy.

The boy pouted. "But you're leaving. Mom doesn't want you to leave. She likes you. She wouldn't have let you put your penis where she pees if she didn't."

Etienne held back a laugh and heard Judith snort as she struggled to do the same.

"Teliso," Kesuk said gently, "I have to go with the prince --"

"Why!" the boy shouted. Behind him, his mother flattened her ears miserably.

"Because it is my sworn duty to protect him," Kesuk continued. "When I am released from his service, I . . ." He glanced up at Seretse, who was watching him with tears in her eyes.

Seretse said a string of words in her language, and her voice trembled with sadness. Etienne understood just enough to translate: Do not make goodbyes into broken promises.

Kesuk's ears pricked forward. He rose to his feet and faced Seretse. They stared sadly at each other -- and then he suddenly kissed her. Her lashes fluttered in surprise, but she kissed him back. And when their lips pealed apart, she was breathless and crying. Their foreheads touched, and she smoothed her small white paw over his breastplate, silently lamenting that he had duties elsewhere.

Kesuk turned to Teliso next and affectionately ruffled his mane. The boy peered up at him and repeated the question, "Will you come back?"

"I don't know," Kesuk said honestly and squatted down and hugged the child tight.

They set off after Kesuk had said his goodbyes, and for a long time, everyone was silent. Etienne was glad. He needed to think about what he was going to do at Wychowl, how to deal with Hellene and Donica, and how he was going to proceed to help Azrian. Judith had told him -- while speaking for Ti'uu -- that he should let Azrian go, that she didn't need his help at this point, but he didn't care. He had spent his life thinking he would marry someone he hated and live the rest of his life as wretched as his father, buried at Wychowl beneath secrets and lies. But he met Azrian and knew that happiness was within his grasp. He just had to reach for it.

Thalsin wasn't far off. They camped in Statney Grove another day and another night before they reached the capital. During that time, Crawley became very silent and withdrawn, and Etienne knew he was preparing himself to face the mastiffs who believed he had tried to rape their beloved instructor.

Judith and Connell also became less talkative, but in a content, blissful sort of way that was heartwarming to watch. Judith fairly doted over Connell, dabbing his face with a kerchief at supper, sitting in his lap as they talked around the fire late into the evening. Etienne was glad to see her warm to him and glad to see Connell smile.

Reed seemed glad about it as well. Now that he had grown a tolerant brainstem, he was kinder to Judith, constantly went on about what the goddess Kutre would think, say, and do about every tree stump and every rock, and lectured Kesuk relentlessly that he should have stayed behind with Seretse -- because the goddess Kutre would have smiled on their love, regardless of custom and regardless of tradition.

"Shove the goddess Kutre up your ass," complained Kesuk, who was tired of hearing about it.

Crawley laughed softly.

They entered Thalsin around noon, following the queue of farmers in wagons, merchants in caravans, and carriages of travelers fresh off the train. Everywhere, dogs in waistcoats and bonnets milled back and forth, passing open windows of bakeries with sweet smelling bread, barbershops, and notaries. Children ran in the street and hopped in the mud, skipped stones in the fountains and brazenly climbed trees, only to get pulled down by the tail by furious and embarrassed mothers. The sun shone bright upon the town's high rooftops and glinting windows, everywhere dogs were laughing and gossiping, and Etienne glanced around with a sad smile as he realized . . . he was home.

Etienne was glad when no one recognized him. He kept his hood up, his cloak wrapped about him, and avoided making eye contact with anyone. A boy lost his ball in the street, and when Etienne retrieved it for him, he pointed a finger at his face and mouthed silently. He recognized Etienne. Perhaps he had seen him riding through town in the past. But no one believed the boy. His father came to drag him off, and his shouts of, "But he's the prince, I tell you!" went ignored.

Judith shook her head disapprovingly at the close call, and Etienne made a point to ignore further contact with his own subjects -- though he grumbled about it under his breath.

They traveled on through the busy town, and Etienne could see WychowlCastle towering high above, the many black birds swooping around its battlements, the flags of the roaring lion that waved in the breeze. Donica and Hellene would be there, sipping tea as they planned the next horrid execution -- or even worse, his wedding -- and he smiled as he thought of how he'd surprise them both with immediate exile. No longer was he the morose boy mourning his father, the boy who ran away, the boy who feared the crown. He was ready to stand up to Donica, ready to put her in her place! But an old newspaper in the gutter made him realize . . . he didn't have to.

Etienne paused when the newspaper caught his eye, and as the others watched, he pealed it from the muddy water it was sponging up and unfolded it. It hung heavy with water in his paws and the ink was running, but the letters were still intact enough for him to read. The others gathered around him as his eyes scanned the first lines. He went still. The article on the front page said Donica had been assassinated by a fox, that authorities were still searching for Prince Etienne, and that Princess Hellene had taken the throne as regent until the prince was found. It was even believed that Etienne may have been kidnapped. The assassin was still at large and her fox followers were leading raids and incursions throughout the kingdom. The public was cautioned to keep indoors after nightfall.

Connell gave a low whistle. "This paper is pretty old. That means the queen's been kaput for months."

Etienne swallowed hard and absently let the paper drop. Donica being dead changed everything. It meant he would have to deal with Curith, perhaps even with the suspicion that he had put Azrian up to the assassination. It was eventually going to spread that he had been living in the wild with foxes. The public would think quickly enough that he was behind Donica's murder, and then King Louis might instigate a war in vengeance. But at least Azrian was safe and away. If only he could figure out where she was.

As evening went down to dusk, they rented a room at an inn. The four guards put together what coin they had, emptying pockets and boots and muttering as they searched their jackets. The resulting amount was enough to rent a single room with two beds. They didn't have enough to order meals at the bar, though all of them were starving, and Etienne thought with longing of the days when he could just walk in an inn and slam a ring on the counter that was worth a small kingdom.

"I can get us food," said Judith, sitting calmly on the edge of one of the beds as she watched the others shaking their heads at the pitiful two coppers they had left.

"Or his majesty could reveal his identity," Crawley said wearily. "And we'd have the entire inn licking our asses."

Kesuk shook his head. "The idea was to return to Wychowl out of the blue and catch Princess Hellene off guard. She'll have time to prepare for his majesty if she knows he's coming two days ahead of time."

Crawley frowned. He was standing at the rickety table in their room, adjusting his scabbard. Etienne thought he looked bone tired and confused. "Who cares if Hellene knows we're coming?" he demanded. "What is she gonna do besides have tea and cakes ready? She wants to marry the prince, not kill 'im. Right?" He looked at Etienne, baffled.

"And I plan to exile her," Etienne said, flipping through a newspaper with flaring nostrils, "for everything she's doing without my sanction." The newspaper he had now was a recent one, and there were many articles praising Hellene as a "dutiful, brave, young girl" carrying the weight of the crown in Etienne's absence. Hellene had sent mastiffs to lead massacres on innocent foxes in various forests, believing they were "disciples" of the "assassin" who had killed the queen. But Etienne knew better. Innocents were dying left and right because of Hellene. His paws were shaking a little on the newspaper. He put it down and pushed his fingers back through his mane.

"We could fast," said Reed complacently. "Perhaps if we pray, the goddess Kutre will send her blessing." He stood at the window, peering out at the dark street.

"I liked you a lot better when you were a virgin," Crawley complained.

"I can get us food," Judith repeated calmly.

"We have to make a decision soon," Connell said. "Before I just haul off and gnaw a leg off one of these chairs."

"They were gambling downstairs," Kesuk said thoughtfully. "And we've still two coppers between us."

"The goddess Kutre . . ." began Reed with a shake of his head.

"Shut up," said Crawley, Connell, and Kesuk in weary unison.

"I can get us food," Judith repeated yet again. "I saw the barkeep looking at my breasts. He would be very open to suggestion."

Connell's mouth fell open. "If you're suggesting what I think you're --!"

"I'm not," Judith assured him evenly.

"I. . . ." Connell hesitated. ". . .oh. Sorry."

At Judith's insistence, they went downstairs to the bar. A long-faced dog was strumming a lute on a small stage, while patrons sat at little tables spread across the room, drinking dolefully and sitting hunched. A few patrons were indeed gambling, tossing dice on tables or laying out cards. Reed shook his head disapprovingly and muttered about the goddess Kutre under his breath.

There were armed mastiffs sitting at the bar. They were elite royal guards wearing jackets with the roaring lion of Wychowl on their backs, and Etienne almost halted to see them sitting there, casually tossing back drinks. He could only assume they were there on leave or perhaps returning from one of Hellene's dismal assignments of fox hunting and slaughtering. There were two of them, and they talked and laughed quietly among themselves and seemed in good spirits.

The others paused to take their lead from Etienne, and he looked over and noticed how tense and angry Crawley had gotten. Did Crawley know them? But Etienne heard his stomach growl, and instead of retreating up the stairs again, he ducked his head beneath his hood and sat at the bar. The others followed suit.

"Got some coin after all, eh?" the barkeep said, eying them as he set more glasses on the counter. He was a St. Bernard with a curly white mane and a fat stomach protruding tight from behind his apron. He smiled lustily at Judith, ignoring it when Connell glowered at him.

Judith's response was to pull her mane back from her eyes. "We're hungry. Bring us supper, please."

The barkeep's mouth fell open and he looked at Judith with large eyes. He dropped his towel, backing away as he stammered, "R-Right away, miss! Right away!" before scrambling into the kitchen with the order, "Oi! We've got six mouths need feedin' out here!"

Judith smoothed her mane back over her eyes and Etienne looked at her in wonder.

". . . what did you do?" Connell said in amazement. He leaned his elbow on the bar and peered at Judith with his mouth open, and Etienne suddenly realized that Connell had never seen her face before. He had never seen the face of the female he loved.

"I asked him to bring us supper," Judith said matter-o-factly and smoothed down her apron.

Connell looked at Etienne for an explanation, but the prince just shrugged: he was just as baffled.

The barkeep brought them roast chicken, greens, carrots, and potatoes soaked in gravy, and they tucked in gratefully. The food was delicious, freshly cooked and hot, and Etienne hadn't felt so full in months. He actually had to loosen his belt a little.

With the free meal finished, Etienne and the others were heading upstairs when the prince realized Crawley had lingered behind at the bar. He stopped to look at him. The big mastiff seemed a little drunk: the barkeep had brought them all the ale they wanted.

" 's all right, your majesty," Crawley said, staring dully at his mug. "I'll be along in a minute. Gotta piss somethin' awful."

Etienne hesitated but went up the stairs.

***

Crawley staggered out the backdoor to take a leak, fumbling half-drunk to get his penis out. He stiffened when a big paw grabbed his arm. From the corner of his eye, he could see faces. He recognized the two mastiffs from the bar. He knew them by name. The bigger one was David Kerran. The shorter one was Sam Allen. Both of them had been in the same year as Crawley, and as a result, had known him a long time, had gone on assignment with him, and had even befriended him. But once the terrible lie spread, they disowned him, pretending they had never been his friend to begin with. The fact that they dared to approach him now . . .!

"Whadda you want?" Crawley demanded irritably and roughly shook Kerran's paw off his arm. He aimed his penis at the wall and let the hot spray free. He couldn't believe it when Kerran and Allen watched him. "Get lost," he complained.

"It's time we found out if it's true," Kerran said with narrowed eyes.

"Captain Harvey said you pinned him on the desk and sucked his dick," added Allen indignantly. "D'you really attack him like that?"

Crawley blushed angrily. "No! And I can't believe my own friends don't believe me! You wanna know the truth? He slammed my face in a wall and f-fondled me! That's the truth!"

"What if someone was nice about it?" Allen said seriously.

Crawley's mouth slipped open in surprise and he frowned. They were both of them looking at him in earnest. He dropped his eyes to his penis again, not knowing what to think as he shook it dry. He was about to tuck it away when Kerran reached around . . . and gently stroked him between finger and thumb.

"K-Kerran . . ." Crawley whispered and frowned helplessly as he started to stiffen in those careful fingers. "W-What . . . Why are you touching . . .?" But he made no move to stop him and shivered when the strokes deepened. He dropped his head against the wall and sighed. He could feel Allen tugging roughly at his pants, and then they dropped around his ankles, and his backside was bare to the cold air. He tried to snatch his pants as they were falling but missed. He glanced around, frantic. They were in the alley behind the inn, and no one was watching but a cat on a box. "Have you two lost it -- a-ah!" Crawley sputtered when he felt Allen's tongue plunge between his hard buttocks.

"Oh . . . oh . . . A-Allen. . ."

Allen took Crawley by the hips and buried his face in his backside, moving his head slowly up and down as he devoured the tender place under his tail. And even as Allen was pleasuring Crawley's back, Kerran dropped on his knees at Crawley's front.

Crawley blushed as Kerran's tongue bathed him in long, hard strokes. He had never had oral pleasure before. He had sex with a female once long ago, in some attempt to convince himself he didn't like males, only females. It was messy and clumsy and quick, and the girl went away unhappy and unsatisfied, and he was so ashamed that he didn't bother trying again. With anyone. He didn't know how to please a female -- which frustrated him incredibly -- and he was too ashamed to please a male. But now his friends -- who he'd thought were rigidly straight all this time -- were on their knees making him feel things with their mouths. And it was incredible.

Kerran spit on Crawley's veined phallus and watched a moment as the warm saliva oozed over. Crawley moaned and whispered his name. And he couldn't believe it when his friend closed his mouth over him and took him to the base. He gasped and frowned, and before long, they were licking him so hard, front and back, that his hips were rocking. He hesitated and placed his paw on Kerran's head, moaning his appreciation as their hungry tongues bathed him.

Crawley came in Kerran's mouth and watched in amazement as his own friend gulped on his flinching penis and swallowed with ease. When Kerran and Allan got to their feet, they were hard in their pants. Crawley looked at them and felt his heart racing, heard his mind screaming that one of them should take him. He grunted when Kerran grabbed him by the neck and slammed his chest to the wall, and the pleasure held him paralyzed when Kerran's thick erection crammed slowly in his backdoor. His buttocks clenched and strained to take the enormous phallus, and he sighed long and breathless, as if to hold on to that first moment of ecstasy.

Kerran kissed Crawley's neck and nuzzled his nose against his cheek as they rocked slowly against the wall, his fingers fondling Crawley to throbbing arousal again, his kisses tender. And Crawley shivered and sighed, his pleasure mounting with every deep thrust. He could hear Allen grunting as he touched himself. Then Kerran was humping faster. Harder. Heavier. As if to make up for all the years Crawley had lived in fear. Then Allen got on his knees and sucked Crawley as he was pounded, gulping and gurgling on Crawley's erection as it thrust in his face with every heavy slam of Kerran's hips.

And trapped between them, Crawley came and gasped and choked and moaned and came again.

And this time . . . it was right.