FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Language Barrier

(www.furaffinity.net/user/bur)

(fabulousmoose.sofurry.com)

© FabulousMoose

Grey clouds hung overhead weighing down the sky and dampening the light that coated the late afternoon ground. Jonah moved with a hurried pace along a timeworn street, map in hand. He fought with the laminated paper, struggling to keep it open in front of him and decipher the printed language while keeping pace somewhere between a walk and a jog on the foreign road. He was constantly scanning the area for the way back home, a small train station, but it was impossible to match the streets with the map when the physical locations weren't reliably marked. As if the universe conspired to prove his frustrations, he arrived at another unmarked corner and turned right, seeing nothing but cottages, thatched roofing, and sullen gardens down the wide corridor. When he spun around, there, in the distance, was a small nondescript station. He almost ignored it: the only defining feature was the passenger cars hidden behind the facade, waiting patiently.

Jonah hastily stuffed the useless map into a deep pocket as snow began to fall. The paper crumpled and hung out limply as he took off at a run, cheeks turning a rosy red while his breathing puffed out into the freezing air. He moved too fast for it to gather around his own head, and the visible breath puffed up in regular intervals, disappearing into the air behind him as he forged ahead. A large backpack bounced on his shoulders, weighed down as it was for the extended trip; a 'walkabout', he liked to call it. He had been wanting to visit this country for quite some time thanks to it's remote splendor, and while not unfriendly, it was certainly unaccommodating, with no real tourism to speak of. Most guides recommended hiring a local to help you navigate the area to avoid getting stranded, but with some careful planning, he'd been able to map out some small bed and breakfasts, as well as hostels prior to the trip. His last stop had been the next town over, about 20 miles away with no taxi service to speak of, and it's worn appearance and sparse amenities had betrayed a lack of patrons. The hosts had been a kind older canine couple, gray muzzled and rough with age, and it was through their broken English he'd planned the last leg of his journey to the station here. It was one that could take him back to a country that he recognized, where he could speak the language and rest in his own bed. This was a town someone never left, not one that was vacationed to.

Snow continued to fall, and the cold air on Jonah's lungs began to burn as he neared the station. He ignored the uncomfortable imbalance between his frigid extremities and the sweaty heat of his core under multiple layers. Should have pulled the gloves out a lot sooner, but he wasn't going to stop and search for them, having wasted too much time already. There were only a few individuals near the station: a single feline whose features he couldn't make out exiting the arrival turnstiles, a wolf in a long coat pushing their way through the opposite side, hastening up a ramp to the platform, and another large furry form sitting behind the ticket window, hidden by the roughened glass and dull reflection of muted afternoon light. There was a faint whistle from the platform situated behind the small building, and the young man's pace doubled, pushing himself forward until he hit the ticket window with a thump, using the building to stop his momentum.

The bulky form behind the glass smiled at him, shaggy fur ruffling as it moved in a surprisingly gentle manner, and Jonah wondered for a brief moment how the worker fit through the doors to the tiny booth. Aged bovine features regarded him calmly. Must be a bison, he thought, or at least this country's equivalent. It was a little unanticipated, as he hadn't come across any others during the last two weeks, and most of these small towns seemed to be fairly homogeneous in their species, but the anxious traveler pushed the thought away, held up a single finger, and reached into his back pocket, ready to pay the fare home.

A second whistle shrieked through the cold. There was a hiss from behind the building and a slow scraping of metal against metal as his only way out of town began to slowly chug toward a new destination. The attendant in front of him pointed a large hoofed hand to the clock on the wall behind them and gave an apologetic shrug while saying something in the local tongue. Jonah didn't need to hear the words to know what it meant, and his shoulders sunk. He had missed it by a mere moment. The swirling snowfall picked up in intensity as if responding to his mood, and the small, weightless material began to accumulate on his clothing.

Time no longer of the essence, Jonah groaned and flipped his bag around, pulling a small translation pocketbook out. He sorted through a few pages but struggled to find what he was looking for while the attendant waited ever patiently. In the most awkward way possible, Jonah tried to intimate he wanted a ticket for tomorrow morning, one to the next major city where he could catch a flight home. He tried his best to pronounce the words correctly, but knew the sentence structure was a mess, hoping that the key words would be enough to get him what he needed. There hadn't been any trouble getting out here, but getting back was obviously going to be more complicated.

Another sympathetic smile flashed from behind the glass, but the bison's facial expression didn't indicate understanding. Jonah repeated the words for “one" and “ticket" and “tomorrow" which registered a different expression, but it was followed quickly by apologetic gestures. The older bovine began speaking quickly, pointing toward the ceiling, but stopped mid-sentence (or maybe after several... Jonah couldn't keep up) and snorted, dissatisfied with the effort. With a start, he stood and grasped the small computer monitor in front of him, turning it toward the glass. Jonah leaned into the dirty pane, but either due to glare or simply the grime coating the surface, he couldn't make out what was on the screen. It was his turn to shrug in an exaggerated manner, which got another concerned frown from the attendant.

The big shaggy worker spun the monitor back around and turned, squeezing his bulk through the small door to the office. A moment later, the over-sized bison's hoof-steps stomped in rhythm around the station and stopped, towering in front of Jonah. Without hesitation, the bison set his hands on the young man's shoulders and began ushering him back the same way, re-tracing previous steps. Jonah was taken by surprise, letting himself be led back around to the same little doorway. Another gentle shove pushed him inside, where the temperature was only marginally warmer, but the smell of bison was pervasive, and he turned back to his impromptu guide. The attendant leaned down, snout, horns, and bushy fur framing itself in the doorway so he could see the young man. He poked a finger toward the computer.

Jonah followed the gesture and inspected it closely. The words were gibberish, foreign hieroglyphics that had meaning but made no sense to him, but he did notice two things in particular. On the left hand side of the screen was what appeared to be a schedule, with dates lined vertically. Numbers were something he could read, and the next three dates were ominously flashing red. To the right was a simple blocky pop-up message spanning only a few sentences with a little graphic that showed... was that a storm? While examining the screen, fur brushed against the side of his head as an arm stretched past and flipped a small placard against the window. Jonah knew what those words meant. The one facing him was essentially, “open", while the opposite side indicated the station, or at least the ticket booth, was closed to patrons on the other side of the glass.

As the arm withdrew, Jonah received a gentle pat on the head and he stepped backward out into the cold weather. The snow was falling in earnest now, and the brown-furred bison had a good coating of fine white powder forming over his head and shoulders. He seemed unperturbed, the shirt and trousers were obviously there for modesty instead of any actual protection against the elements. Jonah felt a pang of envy, knowing full well he had 3 layers on to protect his own skin. He had wanted to come out here in the cool weather, and had prepared lightly for snow in the backwoods, but not for what the sky currently promised. While thinking of options, he looked over the station attendant again. The snow covered fur was rugged, but well maintained, with two short curved horns jutting out from the top of his head and a square obviously-bovine snout protruding from the face. The eyes were foreign, but had a kindness behind them that developed with age, and he was stout. His height was almost as impressive as his width.

Three words cut through the building weather as the bison spoke.

“Bad." Again, the big hand pointed towards the heavens. “Train. No." The massive head shook solemnly with another silent apology.

Jonah didn't know how to ask in his language how many days the train wasn't going to be running through this station. The screen had showed three flashing dates, but surely he wouldn't be stuck here for longer than that? Three days? A week? Instead, he offered a single word, framing it as a question.

“Hotel?"

The shaggy head smiled, but there was no response. Jonah stepped underneath a shy awning to the station with a grumble, trying to avoid the now cutting wind while flipping quickly through his book. He repeated the word in a different language to the best of his ability, which got a frown and another slow shake of the head. No, then.

He was truly screwed.

Jonah tossed the book into his bag without regard for the pages before digging quickly to pull out some gloves. They weren't made for snowstorms, but it would at least cut the worst of the cold while he did... something? If there was no hotel, no place he could stay, what were the options? Multiple days of a storm with no lodging could be deadly. He wasn't prepared for anything like that. Maybe there was a police station nearby that he could look for to see if he could somehow translate the issue. Perhaps a pub? Someone in this town had to know some English, right? He hadn't accounted for getting lost on the way here and missing the train, let alone getting stranded. The anxiety and unrest that had been building after the first whistle of the train was beginning to overwhelm him.

While Jonah was standing under the measly awning, the big bovine watched him carefully. He hadn't walked away yet, but obviously the language barrier was too high to overcome with a simple translation dictionary. There was warmth behind his gaze that manifested, not just in the way the cold seemed to hardly phase him, but in his continued involvement. He had no reason to have stuck around this long, and there was worry lined under those eyes. Once the train was gone, he could have flipped the sign, stepped away, and disappeared into the little town without looking back. Jonah was an unprepared stranger in a foreign town, nothing more.

With a snort and two short steps, the bovine closed the distance between the two and grabbed Jonah by the hand. The speed was startling but not aggressive, and Jonah looked up to see the attendant motioning to follow, despite holding tightly to the younger man. What were his other options? He could wander aimlessly with a map he couldn't read, knock on doors while unable to speak the language, or follow the only soul still out here as their surroundings turned into a muddled white sheet. Jonah chose the latter, stepping out from underneath the edge of the building and following closely. The warm hand that gripped his own eventually dropped away, and Jonah had to double his stride to keep pace. He found himself stepping into hoof-prints that were embedded in the snow beneath them as he walked in an effort to avoid the uneven surfaces that were now hidden in white. Occasionally his guide would look back as if to make sure the lost traveler was still there, offering a reassuring smile as he did so. The two only made a few turns, and his brain knew they couldn't have traveled far, but Jonah wasn't sure he would be able to find his way back to the station at this point, even if the weather was clear. Certainly not in this burgeoning storm.

They eventually arrived at a small little cottage, quaint building with a door far too large for the other townsfolk he'd seen, and the overall frame had been built just a little bit taller than the surrounding structures, likely done to specifically accommodate his current host. They passed through a squeaky iron gate into a small garden and from there it was only a few short steps for the bison, a handful more for Jonah. The shaggy beast leading the man stopped briefly at the door and stomped once or twice to dislodge snow from his hooves before shaking the mane of fur around his head and neck vigorously. He gave no warning, and Jonah had stepped up too close, leading to a sudden transfer of powder from one form to another. The bison opened the door, stepped over the threshold and turned, suddenly seeing his guest transformed into a fluffy mound of snow. He rumbled out a deep-throated belly-laugh, even gripping his stomach in the caricature of a jolly old man, before reaching out and brushing the excess away gently. The rumble continued with a repeated phrase that Jonah could only assume was an apology before he ruffled the last of the snow from the top of the man's head, satisfied. Jonah sighed then kicked his own shoes against the entryway and stepped into the home, closing the door softly behind him. The sudden lack of swirling wind and bright snow was a welcome change.

The bison sat down with a grunt on a bench in the small foyer, obviously confident in the little wooden furniture's strength as his body engulfed it, and a small rubber mat sat under his feet. He picked up a firm bristled brush and began to work over his hooves, removing grime and snow that had packed into the crevices. The muck fell onto the mat to be discarded later, and Jonah followed suit, slinging the backpack off his shoulders and leaning over to untie the laces of his boots. He left them on the mat and stood back up to find his host was smiling down at him. The bison placed a large hand on his own chest and spoke in a thunderous bass.

“Dombay"

The young man copied the motion. “Jonah."

There was a snort and Dombay nodded his head as if satisfied. He turned and moved further into the house, shedding the shirt on his shoulders as he walked and hanging it from a small wooden peg set into the wall. Jonah followed quietly, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the small home while the bison collected some wood stored against the wall and loaded it into a furnace built into the middle of the cottage. The majority of the space was taken up by two main rooms set into an open floor plan. Jonah looked at the high ceiling, supportive wooden beams crisscrossed the space, and he could tell where walls must have been previously removed, which made sense. Walking through small doorways would become a chore for Dombay quickly, and if he lived alone, privacy wasn't really needed. A small kitchen lined a little alcove on the back of the house, and there was a restroom adjacent to what he assumed was the bedroom, since it was the only room with, well, a bed. The bathroom was the only space within the inner walls of the building separated by a door, albeit a large one. Jonah breathed a sigh of relief.

Further inspection proved the space was functional, but not overbearing. The single bed was visible from the center of the house, with a small dresser and lamp next to it, and the furnace sat closer to that side of the room, likely to provide more heat to the sleeping quarters. A very large bovine-sized recliner and simple rug were in the adjacent space. There was no TV or computer, instead the walls of the living room were full of books, with some neatly arranged on shelves while others sat in piles. They were stacked into towers that created their own little path across the floor. Some of the books were shiny and stiff, as if they had been acquired only days ago, while others had cracked spines, worn pages and a slight bend to them, as if they had been read by many different individuals over the years, or perhaps, just by one person many times.

Jonah's fingers lightly passed over the top of one of the towers as he walked by, and he was surprised to find there was no dust on the collection. The books were well-kept, as was the rest of the home, and even though he was unsure how everything was organized, there was no indication that these were forgotten tomes or a collection abandoned over the years. For such a hairy creature, there wasn't even any fur to speak of on the floors or in the corners. Dombay's home was spotless.

While Jonah was looking around the living space, Dombay had busied himself at the back of the home, and despite his sized he moved quietly while humming to himself. Jonah listened attentively to the tune, finding it simple but wistful, and the bull never faltered. The song was cut short with a shrill whistle as water boiled in a kettle on the stove. Dombay collected two mugs with a delicate hand, one much larger than the other, and began steeping some tea in each. He picked back up his tune on his way to the living space while also gathering a small folding chair that had been tucked into a corner. He set it near the recliner for his guest, and Jonah just smiled – while the recliner looked like it was immensely comfortable, there was no other place for Dombay to sit besides the bed, and the extra chair was much more appropriate for his own size. He was surprised that this little chair even existed in a space that had been so painstakingly curated for the one who lived here. It made him wonder if Dombay ever had visitors, but the idea seemed unlikely. This was a home built for one.

Jonah nodded in thanks, both for the tea and the seat, but didn't speak. They had been managing so far, and while it seemed possible that “thank you" might be one of the few words his host may know, it wasn't necessary. Dombay's tune stopped to smile in response, the message obviously understood, and set his mug on a small side-table alongside the recliner. He made an odd motion, bringing both arms up as if he were shouldering something, then pulling away from his body. Jonah watched curiously. When the motion wasn't immediately understood, the bison stepped over to the young man and gently took the tea out of his hands, setting it aside before lifting him up out of the seat and trying to slide his arms out of the jacket.

Oh.

Once he understood, Jonah took control, sliding the garment off his shoulders and then removing the sweater underneath. Dombay took the apparel from his outstretched hands and moved back toward the front of the house, hanging them up on pegs in the entryway near his own shirt. Hopefully Jonah could be forgiven for missing that. His mind was certainly on other things when they arrived. However, as soon as the snow-damp fabric was off of his skin, he regretted the decision to remove both layers, crossing his arms and rubbing vigorously for a moment. He wondered how much heat the little furnace could put out. The space wasn't huge, but it was open and obviously his host wasn't terribly bothered by the chill.

As if reading his mind, Dombay moved over to the bed and, while facing away from his guest, stripped off his pants, stepping out one leg at a time and tossing them over the corner of the mattress. He stretched wide, arms reaching out, bushy tail lifting slightly as muscles and limbs tensed before relaxing back down and resting his hands over his prominent belly, obviously content. Next, he lumbered over to the furnace and stoked the wood that was finally beginning to light properly. He obviously didn't need the extra heat if he was comfortable without his clothing, but it was about hospitality... right? Not like there was any way they could talk about it.

Jonah just sat back down and watched, unable to look away, and no longer as focused on his own shivering. Fortunately, he had already collected the tea that had been offered, or it might have been completely forgotten about. His host was squatting in front of the furnace, hooves planted firmly on the floor and tail swishing behind him in concentration as other bits hung low, practically resting on the ground. Another deep somber tune hummed in his throat, lilting through the air while his guest sat entranced. Once the light began to flicker brightly within the metal container, Dombay stood and turned around, giving the young man an unobstructed view. He straightened up without any sense of poise or showmanship, simply moving at a languid pace suited to his own home. He was comfortable here, as evidenced by the undress, and Jonah wouldn't know what to say even if they could communicate. There was a layer of discomfort in the moment, but it's not as if he didn't enjoy the view, much to the contrary. It was just unexpected.

The bushy fur of Dombay's head and shoulders extended down his to chest. Different shades of light and dark browns were interwoven with deep grays, and they trailed with an unruly thickness over his belly. Jonah didn't get the impression it was due to lack of exercise or activity, but rather a body shape simply suited to the bull. The over-sized male had moved briskly through the snow earlier, and despite the job at the train station, Jonah could only assume he did his own fair share of manual labor, possibly the work within this house and maybe even for other locals. He imagined that body toiling away in the sun, sweating and swinging tools as if they weighed nothing, but dismissed it as silly. Jonah tried not to make assumptions while traveling, and everyone he had seen during the last two weeks had been dressed in something, at least, human or otherwise. They were remote, but not completely removed from society. Some things remained the norm no matter where you went.

The young man's eyes scanned further down as Dombay returned, and below the belly there was a plump swaying sheath, covered in the same brown pelt and crowned with a small tuft of fur. What hung below between his legs couldn't be described as anything other than heavy. If size were any indication of virility, the large organs there would be the poster-child for calf-making. Jonah shook his head and distracted himself with a sip of tea. His attention turned inward, embarrassment winning over curiosity.

What the kind of thought is that?

The tea itself was a welcome warmth on his hands and throat, but he still shivered a little and had half a mind to move his chair closer to the furnace. While he was considering the idea and definitely not thinking about other things, the muted footfall of hooves approached and Jonah looked up to see the body he had been leering at directly in front of him as a soft, weighted warmth fell over his shoulders. He hesitated for only a brief moment, then tore his eyes away from the massive still-swinging pendulum of flesh in front of them, pulling the fabric tightly around his body. He lifted his gaze upward and was met with those gentle eyes. This time he did speak out loud, offering a simple thank you, nothing more, which earned a broad smile and snort of approval.

Dombay stepped away and turned to the nearest tower of books, selecting the top one before settling into his large, well worn chair. He set the book on his belly lightly and reached between the armrest and seat cushion, pulling out a small container that opened with a muffled pop. The bull removed a pair of oddly shaped lenses, settling them over the bridge of his large nose and balancing them with practiced ease. The reading glasses must have had some type of weight to the nose, and they fit him perfectly, staying in place despite his own readjustment as he set the case down and picked the book back up, crossing his hooves at the foot of the recliner.

Jonah stayed there, bundled up under the blanket that smelled powerfully of his host for quite some time. Dombay read quietly, never seemingly cold or uncomfortable, until the only light that aided his reading came from the lamp nearby. They each stood once or twice during the evening, either refilling their tea, snacking on biscuits, or stepping through the only closed door to use the restroom. After one such trip, Dombay returned and sank down into his chair, looking at Jonah over the brim of his glasses before pointing to the book and saying something in his own language. Jonah ached to be able to reply, desperate to be able to hold a conversation, to ask questions, just to do something to pass the time. Whether it was a keen nature that picked up on his body language or something else, Jonah wasn't sure, but before he had a chance to shrug, the bison pointed to the cover again, reading the title out loud.

Jonah laughed, nodding his understanding. Of course. It was the title of the book.

With the next breath, words began to flow from the older beast, reading from whatever page he was currently on. It's not as though it mattered if he started at the beginning; Jonah couldn't interpret the words that carried through the air anyways, so he simply sat back, relaxed, and listened to a story he couldn't understand. The voice ranged from a baritone to bass, rising and falling as he read with enthusiasm, only pausing here and there to sip at his tea and wet his lips. Dombay even became more animated, swinging a hand around in the air for punctuation, pantomiming a sudden deep hearty laugh, pulling his lips up in a malicious snicker, or leaning forward to whisper a secret... maybe at one point he had hoped to be an actor. There was an inherent flair under all the fur, Jonah thought, as he sat enchanted by the big bull's storytelling.

During the tale, Jonah moved his chair a little closer, leaning his own body against the side the recliner and looking over the fuzzy shoulder of his bard to see the words that were being so eloquently delivered. He could only imagine the story, filling in the gaps in his own head with fantastic heroes and villains while Dombay played every part. Eventually though, the narrator's voice began to soften with fatigue. He found an adequate place to stop and reached to the table nearby to pick up a small photo, one that Jonah had completely overlooked with his attention so expertly caught elsewhere. Large hands slid it between the pages and Jonah could see a family standing on top of a grassy hill. The colors were slightly washed out, but one of the figures was unmistakable. Dombay's smile was unchanged, however the female bison and calf were unknown. Jonah looked to his host who was putting away his glasses and pointed to the photo.

“Family?"

Dombay's eyes followed the gesture and his large hand hovered over the image, caressing it softly and hesitating before closing the pages on it. His expression was melancholy, and he nodded as if in understanding, but chose not to speak, saying just about all he needed to. Jonah hadn't noticed any photos hung on the walls, or any indication that anyone else lived in the home, so he could only assume, in some form or another, they were no longer in his life. He rested a hand on Dombay's shoulder, but didn't push any further. The bull reached up and laid a large hand over his own, squeezing tightly before it slid away as he stood and stretched.

Jonah did the same, stretching before setting his mug on the side-table while the book was returned to it's place on top of the nearby tower. Dombay watched quietly, sleep hanging heavily on his eyelids, and gestured to the recliner he had just left. Jonah looked between the two, and watched as the bison placed his two hands together in a prayer position before bringing them up beside his head and leaning against them.

Right, they should probably get some sleep. The storm was still raging outside, and Jonah was afraid to even see how badly the snow had accumulated, but sleep was a good idea. He climbed up into the recliner and marveled at how warm it was before leaning in and taking in a deep breath. The scent of the bovine that had been in it not a moment before permeated the fabric, giving it an earthly aura that was saturated in the home. Jonah stopped himself a moment too late, unable to explain verbally, and only realizing afterward how that might have looked. He shot a look at Dombay who only chuckled, bushy eyebrows raised with that friendly smile across his face. God, he had to think that was weird. Jonah's cheeks flushed and he leaned back anyways, settling into the large piece of furniture and letting it engulf him as he pulled the blanket against his body tightly.

Dombay watched him get settled, tail swishing the whole time, and Jonah wished he could read what was going on in the bison's mind. There was an intensity behind his eyes now, but it was overridden by the welcoming and friendly nature that had been displayed so far. Once the young man was comfortable, Dombay turned out the nearby lamp and walked away, making sure to put another log or two into the furnace before sitting down on his own bed. He flipped a small switch on the wall and the light beside him clicked off, flooding the room in darkness. From across the home, there was a huff and a grunt as the bison turned over, ruffling a single small sheet that sat over the mattress. Jonah closed his eyes and heard a quiet phrase from across the room. He responded to it, telling the bison goodnight in his own language.

---

Jonah woke in the middle of the night shivering. The warmth that had emanated from the recliner when he had fallen asleep was no longer present, and the blanket only helped so much. He tried ignoring it at first, pulling himself up into a tight ball and tucking his head and feet under the blanket, but the winds that swirled around the cottage seemed to find him anyways, biting at his toes and ears. When he could no longer ignore the cold, he stood, practically climbing off the large chair, and made his way over to the furnace. The bison was sleeping nearby with only a single sheet on his body, snoring quietly. Jonah once again felt a jealous pang for the fur and resistance to cold, wishing he didn't have to worry about becoming an icicle in the night. When he looked through the grate, there was a dull orange glow at the bottom with embers sizzling and popping quietly, but very little heat was leaking into the surrounding space. Jonah opened the door and cringed as metal scraped against metal in a high-pitched screech.

Dombay stirred, his large shadowy form turning over in response to that terrible noise. Eyes opened in the darkness, and he could see Jonah crouched in front of the furnace, blanket still draped over his shoulders, with a look of apology written on his face. The big beast rumbled something and set his hooves over the edge of the bed before standing and sluggishly refilling their source of warmth. Jonah felt bad for waking his host, but was grateful for his willingness to help. Unfortunately, it would take some time for the wood to begin burning in earnest again, and his body continued to tremble. Dombay scratched at his chin with a heavy hand and yawned hard, opening his maw wide. He looked like he was thinking, sleepy as he was, and Jonah returned the weary gesture with a yawn of his own, unable to stop the compulsion. They both chuckled in unison.

Instead of returning to bed, Dombay got down on his knees, reaching under the frame and pulling out a second blanket. It was thinner than the first, and Jonah couldn't help but be grateful that he had anything extra at all, obviously not needing them for himself. He spread the fabric over the bed and motioned for the young man to lay down. Jonah turned and pointed to the chair. He'd be fine, as long as the fire kept burning. He just needed to raise the temperature of the room, that's all. The bison snorted, paternal annoyance showing on his face for the first time, and he pointed to the bed again. Jonah didn't know how to tell him it was his home, that he was a guest and the chair was practically a bed for a human anyways. He didn't want Dombay to have to sleep there for a stranger. It didn't make sense, but obviously none of that could be explained, so instead, he lifted the blanket and pointed to his clothes, trying to convey his own thoughts.

See? Your guest is wearing dirty traveling clothes that shouldn't be in your bed.

There was a second snort, but this time it was followed up with a creased brow which was a subtle sign that the bison was serious. Instead of pointing to the bed again, he stepped up to Jonah, leaning in close and sniffing the shirt, huffing heavy warm breath under the blanket. The was a deep rumbling hum and in the next moment, he firmly unwrapped the blanket from around the young man's shoulders, throwing it over the bed as well. When he turned back around, he pointed to the shirt and shorts, pantomiming the removal of both. Jonah balked. While the message was clear, he couldn't believe he was being told to take his clothes off and sleep in the bull's bed.

When he didn't react quick enough, Dombay stepped forward again, gripping the hem of the shirt and slowly lifting it over Jonah's head. Jonah just... let it happen. Maybe it was weird that a stranger twice his size was undressing him, but he couldn't bring himself to stop it. Again, it wasn't that he was unhappy with the situation, but he was beginning to feel more like a burden than a guest. Once the shirt was off, goosebumps crept over his skin in the cool air. As soon as the bison began to reach for his pants, though, Jonah held up a hand. If he was going to be pushy about it, that was something he could do himself. The pants were unbuttoned and removed, leaving only underwear in place on the shivering body. He lifted his palms in an open gesture: is that good?

Dombay grunted, but didn't step out of the way, instead, leaning down close again, practically kneeling to reach the young man's waist, and huffing in a breath. That flat nose was not even inches away from his body, and when air puffed out of his muzzle against the fabric, Jonah felt the familiar twinge of a response he really didn't want to deal with right now. Dombay stood, shaking his head in the negative, and Jonah sighed with a barely perceptible grumble under his breath. Well, when in Rome...

He shucked off his underwear and stood, even colder now thanks to the pushy bison. Dombay was pleased though, and he moved aside, allowing Jonah to step up to the bed and slide quickly under the covers, relaxing comfortably and closing his eyes in satisfaction. With the extant heat still holding under the sheet and new blankets, Jonah sighed a breath of relief, listening as an extra piece of wood was added to the furnace and the loud metal door was shut quickly. He expected to hear hooves cross the floor over to the recliner, but instead, Dombay cleared his throat. Jonah turned around to see the large form towering over the edge of the bed. He lifted his hands and shoo'd the man, wordlessly telling him to scoot over.

Jonah froze, then slowly shifted under the blanket to the opposite side while his host lifted the covers and slid his own body in. The bed wasn't small, it couldn't be, not with such a large creature to accommodate, but it became much smaller for Jonah with the bison on it as well. The young man turned on his side, wondering incredulously how his day had ended so much differently than expected, but his mind drifted almost immediately when it realized that the warmth radiating from the bull was incredible. His body still shivered, trying to rid itself of the memory of the cold, but Dombay was so warm. The bison was being courteous, and despite the now minimal space, he was laying on his side, taking up less space and making sure that his limbs did not touch Jonah's. At this point though, did it really matter?

“Fuck it."

Jonah turned over to face the bison who sucked in a quick breath with confusion, unsure what had just been said. He moved forward until his own bare body connected with the soft belly fur of the beast in bed with him, and Dombay lifted his arm to make room, studying the man. Jonah scooted in close, tucking his cold nose and ears in against the warm chest fur and pulling the blankets up over his head. There was a rumble, a happy one, that spread out from the warm body he was pressed up against, and a heavy arm came down across his back, wrapping against him tightly and pulling him in closer. Jonah lifted an arm as well, draping it over the bull's side to steal as much warmth as he could. Neither one would know it, but they were both smiling.

---

Light beamed in through the windows of the home, the gray sky not dark enough to completely muddle the brilliance of the snow that had fallen overnight. It was piled high, and flakes continued to fall, though they floated gently now, no longer being battered back and forth in the wind. Jonah shut his eyes tightly in an effort to ignore the world outside. Fire still crackled softly in the furnace, and he was bundled in a cocoon of warmth, head resting on a thick bicep and face tucked underneath a bovine chin that snored softly. His body was pressed up tightly against that coarse fur while his legs intertwined with the bull's. There was a hardness between his legs, one he was ignoring, but found impossible to get rid of, as any small movement meant he stroked that tender flesh against soft belly fur. If Dombay wasn't so tightly wound around him, it might have been possible to change positions, but if he was being honest, that wasn't what he wanted. While part of him found it inappropriate, another wished for more, so for now he would have to be content to stay like this, at least until his host was awake.

The bull slept soundly, occasionally moving but never truly changing positions. His hold did eventually loosen, and while Jonah desperately wanted to stay under the blankets and fur, the abundance of tea that they had consumed the night before began to force his hand. He peeled his body away gently, trying not to wake the slumbering giant, and finally managed to slide far enough away that he could slip out from under the blankets. He stood and walked around the bed to the bathroom, turning back to look at Dombay as he did so.

The nature of his day yesterday had been stressful, as well as the uncertain and awkward way they had met, but Jonah couldn't deny he found the bull handsome and endearing. He was too kind, taking the man in without a second thought and providing shelter from the storm that had built up so quickly. Jonah had to admit, he'd never cuddled naked with someone who he couldn't even talk to, but it hadn't been unwelcome or tasteless. Dombay had kept him warm and not pressed for anything more, but Jonah couldn't help but let his mind wander to more salacious activities. Did the bull know the effect he was having? Dombay rumbled and rolled onto his back, still very much asleep, but there was an impressive tent now visible in the blankets. Jonah chuckled. Maybe it was due to having a companion in bed or maybe just the natural morning biology that many men faced, but he closed the door hoping on some level he had something to do with it.

After finishing his business, Jonah opened the door and stepped out quietly, his body no longer excited the way it had been when he had entered. When he turned around, his eyes met with Dombay's who was back to laying on his side, one arm propping up that massive head. His eyelids were still heavy with sleep, but he was alert enough in the morning light. Jonah would have taken the bull to be an early riser if anything, one who got up quickly, made a simple but hearty breakfast, and moved on with his day, but he didn't make any effort to leave the bed, instead lifting the blankets and patting the empty space. There was a sleepy, contented smile on his muzzle.

Jonah didn't hesitate, moving quickly across the cold floor and sliding his body back under the covers. He hoped the quick movements helped hide the sudden rush of blood he was experiencing as well, although it was unlikely. Dombay rumbled happily as the young man slid back into place beside him, lifting the covers over his body again. Jonah lay on his side, facing away from the bull in an effort to hide his excitement, but an arm quickly wrapped around his waist and pulled him in close. He was wrapped up tight against that warm chest and could feel it rise and fall in a slow rhythm. Once Dombay had settled, the bull shifted his hand, attempting to rest his arm against Jonah's side, but instead it brushed against the swelling between the man's legs. The bull froze, arm hovering in the air, and Jonah wasn't sure if he was simply surprised or appalled. Maybe everything up to this point had been innocent from a cultural perspective, but it was so suggestive and out of bounds for humans. He had been courteous, not wanting to make undue assumptions, but it was difficult to decide if the bull's actions where motivated by something more, and he couldn't just... ask. If Dombay was uncomfortable, or worse, offended by Jonah assuming something more, would he kick him out?

Jonah decided to go with his gut. They had communicated well enough so far, and if the old bull wasn't making a move for the same reasons his guest was, they would be locked in a stalemate forever.

He lifted his own hand and set it over Dombay's, gently guiding it down until it rested over his erection. Almost immediately, that giant hand wrapped around his flesh, big enough to grip everything between the man's legs in one hand as he began massaging it through his palm.

The bull let out a rumbling bellow and Jonah felt an immediate shift in intention.

Everything before had been cautious, friendly, and culturally distinct, but not predatory. Suddenly, his host was holding him possessively, leaning over his shoulder, inhaling deep breaths of his scent and pushing up firmly against his back. His hand continuing to grip Jonah's orbs and massage firmly, pulling at the skin, providing pressure, then releasing it. The floodgates were opened and he had been given permission to act in a way that no longer required boundaries.

Jonah gasped as he was suddenly explored, teased, and massaged. He pushed his ass back against the soft fur while the rest of his body was being scrutinized, and felt another sensation as Dombay raised his hips to meet it. The soft tickle of fur slid across the back of his legs as the slick, wet pole that was protruding from it's sheath nudged itself between his thighs. Dombay held his companion against his chest, groping and pulling and tugging, but their sizes didn't match up evenly, and Jonah could feel that warm rod sliding between his legs, too far down to reach anything else as the bull pleasured himself. Obviously, Dombray had been hiding his own body's response, stuck in the same limbo of indecision, but no longer.

Jonah moaned as that foreign flesh continued to slide against his skin, growing in size and throbbing against the inside of his legs. The bull continued to buck his hips sideways, the tip of his cock sliding further up, pressing with each thrust against the young man's taint, coating the underside of his sack with copious amount of lubricating fluid that dripped down to the bed beneath them. Jonah squeezed his legs together, tightening that space as that hard rod searched erratically for purchase. His hips were already sitting in a rapidly growing puddle, but he paid no attention. His mind and body were occupied, firm hands continuing to stroke and squeeze and pull while a broad nose and tongue explored his upper body. Dombay was thorough, snuffling through his hair, over his shoulders and across his chest. His tongue explored that bare flesh as well, rolling over his clavicle and under his chin. The hand between Jonah's legs gripped his sack tightly, pulling and squeezing as the cock beneath him hunted desperately for a place to enter while the tip leaked in anticipation. Jonah threw back his head, letting out a rough moan of pleasure.

Dombay took advantage, turning his own head and meeting the man's mouth with a kiss. It was sloppy and awkward, their anatomy not matching up well, but neither cared. He pulled away for a moment, saying something that Jonah couldn't understand, and it sounded like a statement, a command. Jonah was still reeling from the pressure between his legs, but it gave him a moment to catch his breath. The bull nodded as if Jonah had done exactly what he wanted and dove in again, this time, forcing his tongue into the man's mouth. It was thick, coated with saliva, and Jonah's eyes widened as it slid forcefully into the back of his throat. He had no control at the moment: one arm was wrapped around his chest, one held him between the legs as if the bull was afraid letting go of that package would lose it forever, and a girthy tongue slid between his lips. The bull continued to thrust against his skin, the slick head of his cock probing the space wildly in a desperate need to find a space to breed. Jonah groaned as he was held and pleasured, unable to move anything but his hips. He pushed back against his partner, pulling against the tight grip that held his package, and trying to position himself properly against the tool sliding between his legs.

Suddenly Dombay's body rumbled, another deep bellow rolling from his chest to his maw and out. The arms around Jonah tightened with a grunt, and he moaned against the tongue that kept him silent, feeling the vibrations through the flesh stuffed down his throat. The bull's hips bucked feverishly between his legs, throbbing suddenly as a different kind of thick wetness began to flood out. His flesh slid through seed, searching blindly for the rightful place to fill, and Jonah felt it suddenly. The slick tip, gushing with every grunt, finally found his tender ring and pushed through with a rough thrust. He cried out, and Dombay pulled his head away, giving the young man a chance to breathe while resting his snout against Jonah's neck and panting heavily. His hands didn't move, if anything gripping even tighter, and his hips stayed still, but Jonah could feel the restraint. Small movements, the tensing of muscles, the desire to drive in deep was there, but the bull held back. He was rooted inside the man, pressed in just far enough to plant the last few jets of seed inside his companion, but the moment Jonah had cried out he hadn't gone any further. The two panted heavily together, both lying in a puddle of the bull's own making.

After allowing Jonah a moment to catch his breath, Dombay relaxed his grip slightly, moving his hands to gently caress the young man's body instead. Jonah could still feel that hardness resting just barely inside him, still occasionally throbbing from the stimulation. It was still leaking, that much he was sure of, desperate to continue to breed despite release. He reached behind himself, gathering some of the seed that had missed it's mark in his hand and he began stroking his own member. The bull snorted and massaged his skin, watching intently, breath uneven with lust, until Jonah pushed backward suddenly, sliding more of the large bull into his body with a grunt. Dombay body reacted with a shiver and a groan, his cock twitching in anticipation, but he did not move. Jonah then slid his hips forward and back again, using the fluids that coated the shaft, the excessive amount that had not been deposited inside of him, to push it in just a little bit further.

Next came an honest-to-god moo.

Jonah couldn't believe it, but a smile spread across his sweaty face and he laughed. He pulled himself away, removing that thick pole from his body with care and turning to plant a kiss on Dombay's muzzle. Next, he turned to his stomach on the sheets, pulling his knees up beneath him, laying his head down on the pillow, and swaying his raised hips back and forth in invitation. The bull needed no further explanation and shot up, pulling himself to his knees and moving around behind his companion. Jonah reached back and began to stroke himself while the bison admired his view and the canvas he had previously painted. A heavy hand began to scoop up some of the residual mess, and he slid it across Jonah's ring, a single finger scooping some in gently, but not needing to do much more. The hand moved, resting on his hip as another feeling replaced it: a thick, swollen piece of flesh began to press into the space and, this time, Jonah rumbled out his satisfaction as he was mounted. The tip slid in easily enough, and Dombay gripped Jonah's hips on either side, leaning his body forward and spreading open the man beneath him. He went slow at first, obviously trying to avoid any pain, and Jonah kept his breathing even as more and more of that length entered him.

This wasn't a contest, and both knew it. When Jonah sucked in a deep breath, hissing with discomfort, the bull stopped, instead sliding himself out partially before pushing back in to the same point. The room was awash with human and bovine moaning as his pace began to increase, and Jonah hung on to the pillow tightly, grunting with every thrust, having completely forgotten about stroking himself. Dombay drove forward with his eyes closed and head raised, lost in bliss to the tight, warm passage beneath him. Soon, Jonah felt the weighty thump of skin connecting with skin, as the motions were making the heavy orbs hanging between the bull's legs crash into his backside with every thrust. He couldn't help it, soon pushing back against those thrusts, moaning into the pillow as that thick flesh slid against his walls, lubricated by the seed from its previous release. He wanted to feel it again, to take everything left inside of the bull as he bred the young man another time. Two more times. However many it took.

The world outside no longer mattered. All Jonah cared about was the feel of fur sliding across his wet and messy skin, the grunting instinctual song of the beast on top of him, and the push and pull as he was filled with something he never though possible. He could feel the weight of the male above him, the belly pressing down on his back, the large hands that gripped his hips, and the stimulating crash of the potent sack that slapped against his skin with each thrust. His own moans suddenly faltered, and he came without warning, his own body releasing into the the messy stain of fluids beneath him. Dombay's muscles tensed as the passage around his cock tightened in waves of pleasure and he rolled forward, thick arms landing beside Jonah's head while the movement itself forced him into his companion down to the hilt. Jonah moaned, feeling more full than he could ever imagined, but the pain and ache that had been there at the start was either gone or forgotten. The young man didn't know or care if it hurt, and it didn't matter. He wanted all of it. Dombay's rested across the man's back, bearing heavily down upon the smaller body but not crushing him, and his hips swung feverishly as he reached the point of no return. Jonah cried out, reaching for and holding on to the bull's hands as that massive body bore into him.

There was a snort, and warm breath blasted past his neck before one final deep, gut-rumbling bellow. Dombay drove himself down, hips crashing into bare skin as he unloaded a second time that morning. It was no less impressive, and Jonah simply panted in exhaustion. His body was too tired to do anything more as he was filled, content with being bred properly and not wasting a single drop of the bull's potent and plentiful release. When the throbbing finally receded, Dombay grunted, lowering himself to his elbows and laying across his lover, body's still joined by his swollen cock. Jonah felt a kiss on his shoulder, and in the next moment he was on his side again, still resting on the fluid soaked sheets, still feeling the twitching of the flesh inside of him. The bull hugged him tightly, not uttering a word, but saying everything he needed to anyways. The two lay there, satisfied, warm, and happy, with no need to go out into the world. For the moment, they could stay inside, at least for a few more days.

Jonah reached an arm back, pulling the bull's head over his shoulder and placing a kiss on his cheek. He got a quick lick on the nose for the effort.

“Thank you, Dombay."

He couldn't understand all of the words that followed, but he recognized one, and it was the only one that mattered. The bull snuggled into him, pulling him close while muttering a similar phrase that made the young man smile. It was just a few words, a message of gratitude, happiness and contentment that ended with “Jonah".