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The morning sun was pouring through the window and onto the opposite wall when Alois opened his eyes. His bones and flesh were aching, an unwelcome reminder of the realities of age and wounds. He put on his gown and slippers and headed towards the door that led to his office where the morning’s dispatches — and hopefully a pot of tea and biscuits — awaited him.

“Good morning sir. Had a late night?”

The voice belonged to Gervais. The marquis was sitting in the upholstered chair facing his desk and blowing on a steaming cup. He gestured to Alois to take a seat. Behind him the viscount was pacing the thick carpet restlessly.

“You could say that,” Alois replied, his instincts taking over and plastering a look of calm onto his face. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Did something happen?”

“Something did NOT happen, that is the issue,” the viscount barked while Alois poured himself a cup, unperturbed.

Alois sipped his tea and studied the man over the gilded rim of his porcelain cup. The hound’s bloodshot eyes and droopy jowls accentuated his short stature and would have marked him as a comical character were Alois not aware that his family owned vast estates and several towns and mills. The rumor was that he was deep in gambling debts, which spoke well of his capability to squander wealth. However, beneath his unpleasant veneer he bore the kind of viciousness that only a man who has everything is capable of.

“Explain yourself, Oliver,” he said simply.

“Did the bullet take your brains as well?” the viscount said snidely. “Unless you haven’t noticed, the prince is prancing about, and very much not dead!”

“Him dying suddenly would cast our friend Gervais into a bad light.”

“Which is why he was supposed to die of a mysterious food poisoning!”

“We simply have to pray for the good health of our liege so that such things will not come to pass,” Alois said and took another sip.

“God works through the hands of men,” Grigori said, startling Alois. The wolf had been standing so still near the window that he had not noticed him until now. Grigori continued to study the garden through the glass, and lifted the curtain to his snout to sniff it. “You have an exquisite taste, chancellor,” he said, this time looking over his shoulder and baring his fangs at him in a facsimile of a smile.

Alois’s mood darkened and he set down his cup. “There have been…developments in the case. Our actions have been foolish and ill-conceived. I am calling off the plot, indefinitely, effective immediately.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Ah yes, I’ve been hearing from these two how you’ve lost your nerve. Well I’m not having any of it. Reynard has to go, and that’s my final word on it. There is too much at stake!”

“That is not your decision to make,” Alois said coolly. “The state requires us to be unified in these troubled times, not bickering among ourselves and vying to tear down the very royalty that is the foundation of our society. Now, I suggest that we gentlemen, and the wolf, depart and vow to speak nothing of this-”

The hound slammed his fancy cane across Alois’s desk, its golden knob shattering the tea pot and sending the cup clattering on the floor.

“You’re one to talk! It was you who approached us first, who convinced all of us to take part in your plot to murder the prince. There is no water that would wash blood off your paws!” He withdrew his cane slowly while keeping eye contact with Alois, even if he had to crane his neck upwards to do so. “You do not have the luxury of walking away from the mess you started.”

Alois picked up a stack of paperwork that had become soaked with tea, shook off the worst of it, and stacked the sheets calmly onto the dry side of his desk.

“It is true that this is my idea. And that means I have the right to call it off. The plot. Is. Finished!” He hissed the last word between his teeth, with less civility and more ferality than even he expected.

The marquis set aside his tea to cross his arms. “And what if we say no?”

“Then I’d be obligated to inform the authorities.”

“You’d die before you could testify,” the viscount said as he cleaned the knob of his cane with a handkerchief. He looked up. “In fact, you’d die here and now.”

Alois locked his eyes with him, then with the other two men in turn. The hound looked calm, like a man about to gut a fish, while the doberman tried to hide how uneasy he was. The wolf, he had a hungry look, belonging to a predator naked and erect, ready to pounce.

“Then you will have to explain why you brutally clubbed to death a convalescent man, the prince's saviour, in his own office. Your family name might save you from the executioner's axe, but I'm afraid what is left of your wealth will be confiscated. Or you could stop acting like a petulant child and listen.”

The viscount’s jowls trembled slightly. “One more word from you, half-breed, and I will happily pay this price.”

“Please, this squabbling serves no one,” Gervais interjected, “Alois, you can certainly understand that both of us have been making personal plans that were… contingent upon the throne being vacated. Do you simply expect us to change course at your whim?”

Alois lifted his hands and gave the two men an apologetic grin. “I trust that your acquiescence to the plot was motivated by a concern for the public good. Nevertheless, I realise that Oliver and yourself have incurred expenses and built up expectations of a well-deserved reward. Fortunately, I have found a way to steer the young Reynard in the right direction, and I will easily convince him to recognize your value. I believe the monopoly for trade with our colonies and an appointment to a generalship would be in good order.”

“Mmhh, this deserves consideration… throw in the Ministry of War and we could have a deal,” the doberman mused and stroked his long jaw.

“This isn’t nearly enough! I shall require control of the royal tobacco and sugar manufactures to even start to recoup my losses,” the hound thundered.

“All in good time,” Alois promised, eager to end the conversation.

“They shall argue and haggle like traders, but his justice shall not be bought.”

The greying fox turned an annoyed eye towards Grigori, who stood by the window, his back turned to the little group.

“You shall not be forgotten, our sovereign would be delighted to endow you with the funds to found a monastery, or do whatever you deem necessary for the good of his soul. In the meantime I will remind you that you are a guest at court, and that favour is a fickle mistress.”

Mollified, the viscount and marquis got up to leave, and after a moment Grigori stalked after them, his bare feet padding softly across the carpet. However, he stopped at the doorway and turned to give Alois a long look as he sat silently behind his desk.

“You wanted to say something, monk?”

“I did not believe a word you just said.”

“I think it fooled them.”

“But didn't fool me.”

“Then you know what I must do.”

“When you come to my chambers,” his lips curled to a hungry smile, “bring a weapon.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it otherwise.”

“I’ve dreamed of it many times.” He closed his eyes and took in the scent of the fox, shivering. “The real hunt has begun.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Alois swallowed. The tension in the air made his mouth dry, tightened his chest and snaked down towards his crotch.

“Good day to you, frère.”

“Good day to you, too.”

The door shut with a soft click.

--

During the day the gardens and the abandoned chapel looked romantic, but at night they were eerie. Alois approached a thatched cottage from behind, treading carefully to avoid making any more noise than he had to. In times past, the small building housed the faithful caretaker of the chapel, but it was now occupied by Grigori. A suitably rustic and solitary retreat for a holy man, or perhaps for someone who preferred spending the hours of darkness away from prying ears and eyes.

There was light inside the cottage, the wolf was in his den. Or was he? Alois always thought himself a rational mind, the kind that scoffed at the puerile superstitions of old wives and peasants, but now to his frayed nerves it felt as if every bush and clump of reeds was alive with half-glimpsed shapes with fangs for teeth and claws for fingers. At last he reached the back of the building and crept along the wall until he came to one of the small windows. He peered cautiously and through the coarse glass saw what looked like a lone figure.

The door wasn't locked, which was fortunate as Alois had no intention of knocking. It swung open at a mere push to reveal a scene that made the word blasphemy spring to the fox’s lips. In the middle of the dimly-lit, incense-filled room, Grigori stood kneeling facing a makeshift altar. His back was turned to Alois, and he was utterly naked.

“The Lord has guided you to my humble abode, brother,” he said without moving.

“And may He preserve me from the beast that dwells within.”

“Such uncharitable words, but I forgive you. Will you join me in my prayers?”

Alois stepped inside and pulled a loaded pistol from his pocket. The altar was decorated with what at first glance appeared to be pious icons, but which on closer look turned out to be pictures ranging from the erotic to the downright obscene.

“I fear my mind is too narrow to share your lofty contemplations. Now turn around, slowly, or I will rid the world of a dirty scoundrel.”

The monk made no effort to shield his manly parts from view as he complied with the order. His sheath was bulging, as if he had been engaging in something more carnal than mere prayer.

“A fine holy man you are,” Alois snorted.

“Do men attain sainthood by hiding in ivory towers? No, before they ascend to heaven they must plunge bodily into the abyss and wrestle with the Devil himself,” Grigori chuckled and joined his hands.

“Then I shall grant you your heart's desire. Take this.”

He tossed a coiled rope to the wolf. A hangman's noose was tied at one end.

“This filth shall provide a welcome explanation for your gesture,” Alois said, pointing towards the drawings, “And don't even think of resisting, or you'll find out that a gut shot is a far worse way to go.”

Grigori turned around the rope in his hands and stared at the fox with eyes that were as cold and deadly as drifting ice. Alois recoiled, instinctively expecting the stronger canine to lunge at his throat, but then a wide grin split the disheveled face of the monk.

“So be it, I praise the Lord and embrace martyrdom at your hands.”

The wolf yielded without losing his beatific smile, even when the fox commanded him to slip his head into the noose. He obeyed with taunting slowness, frequently stopping to mumble idiotically in his barbarous tongue or raise his eyes as if to thank the heavens. Alois waved his pistol and hurried him on with increasing annoyance. The smoke that wafted from the incense burner by the altar filled his nostrils with a sickly-sweet scent that was already making his head pound.

At last the wolf’s gaunt frame stood atop a rickety chair, and to Alois's shock he was now fully erect. His cock was massive, even by lupine standards, with thick blue veins and skin of an almost inflamed crimson color. It stood shamelessly, rigid and bright against Grigori’s dingy fur, as if the man's flesh was already tasting the bliss of the afterlife. The fox shuddered at the thought of the lecherous man being left alone in a room with the naive prince.

“You want him all to yourself, don’t you?” Grigori chuckled.

“What nonsense are you babbling about?”

“Ah, to think of this unsullied flesh, so pure and tender… How I understand you.”

Grigori’s manhood twitched in approval at the evocation, and it spurted a thin jet that blessed the floor at Alois’s feet.

The fox snarled. His eyes were getting watery from the smoke, and now in addition to the pungent smell of burning herbs his nose could detect the lustful aroma of the other man’s erection; thick, unwashed and utterly without restraints.

“I would pity you if you didn’t instill such loathing in me. I am going to enjoy your death throes far more than I should.”

“I have sinned, for I envy you. Kill me, rejoice in my slow agony, and then go claim your prize. Sate your hunger on virgin flesh and make him scream.”

“You are sick, I never…”

“You have already tasted a morsel, haven’t you? I knew it, it is in your blood like it is in mine. Even now you desire it.”

Alois pointed his gun at the man but his head was spinning, and when he pulled the trigger the shot sounded like a cannon going off in the far distance. The bullet hit the wall and sent a chunk of plaster tumbling harmlessly to the floor. The monk had not even flinched. He was staring down at Alois, wild-eyed and spurting fluids from his swollen manhood like a beast about to mate.

“The Creator made both of us wolves, strong and hungry, because it pleased Him to do so. I have embraced his will and surrendered myself to my nature. Why do you deny his plan? Come to me, and all will become clear.”

Alois was hard, but his conscious mind barely noticed it. Teeth bared, he took a step forward, then another, intent on bludgeoning the monk’s gigantic, hideous grin to pieces with the gun’s stock. But somehow he could not lift his arm. Another step and Grigori’s exposed sex was pressed against his bosom like an accusatory finger. It was stiff, hot, and dribbling juices that began to soak his fur through the fabric of his shirt.

“The blood of the wolf is in your veins, but it is still thin and weak. Let me fan the fire in you, so that you may bless Reynard in turn.”

“You bastard…” Alois mumbled, but his legs felt weak and he fell to his knees in front of Grigori, bracing himself on the wolf’s lanky thighs and making him teeter precariously on the chair.

That did not seem to worry the wolf, but instead he blessed the fox with his spidery hands and pulled his head tighter into his crotch. The incense smoke throbbed in Alois’s ears along his heartbeat, and his snout was pulled into the monk’s hefty, musky orbs, their masculinity resting heavy on his wet nose tip. Against his will his body relaxed, sinking into the embrace of that coarse hair and lean muscle, and he inhaled deeply the wolf’s scent. A satisfied rumble rose from Grigori’s chest, and as if almost in a trance Alois kissed his balls, gave them licks and lapped up their intense taste. He could sense the potent seed brimming inside, thick and virile, and its release thrilled him like anticipation of a spectacle.

Grigori was a purebred wolf, and the stories of their cruelty and hunger flashed before Alois’s closed eyes. What he had believed to be exaggerations by the gullible and sensationalist melted away, and there and then the sharp, powerful predator scent convinced him that only a thin veneer of civility separated him from the beast underneath. Grigori’s erection loomed over him like the rod of a wrathful god, dripping its sweet scented chrism on his forehead drop by drop, and the warm dampness seeping into his chest ruff felt hot on his skin like candle wax. He himself was almost painfully erect, his member soaking his underwear with his ample precum, and he let out a warbling sigh as the sensations overpowered him.

Grigori petted him and played with his ears, then grasped his head firmly and turned to stare down at him.

“You have been lost, but now you are found. You will receive what you have been searching for all this time. A new life. A new meaning. That is my gift to you.”

Alois could not move his head to even nod, so Grigori let him go with a lingering touch. He lifted the hangman’s noose off his own neck, gave it a little kiss, and then stepped down to stand over Alois. The fox looked up to him in a confusion of feelings, aroused and furious and wanting to snarl at him, but realizing that he was too afraid to do so. With a graceful move of his long limbs Grigori stepped on Alois’s chest and pushed him down onto the floor, then sat down to straddle his hips, amused by how paralyzed the older male laid on the wooden floorboards.

The wolf pulled up Alois’s shirt and with a calculated slowness pressed his knuckles against his midriff. Alois winced, but the wolf would not relent, and instead pinned him down by his throat and pressed harder. Under the bandages the half healed wound opened again, and red blotch started to spread through the cloth and stained Grigori’s knuckles. Satisfied, the wolf let go to lick his hand, his long tongue coiling sensuously along the fingers while his ice cold eyes studied the panting fox. Alois shivered from the arousal, the pain, from the warm, throbbing sensation spreading through his torso. He was under the influence of something that dulled the sharpness of his sensations, and made him too sluggish to resist what was happening.

“Weak. Harmless. Thin like summer wine.”

Grigori shifted his other hand from Alois’s throat to grasp him by the jaw, forced his mouth open, and leaned over to let a glob of his red tinted saliva drip into the fox’s pink, gaping maw. The coppery taste of blood flooded over Alois’s tongue, and he swallowed. Satisfied, Grigori took his free hand between his own jaws and bit down, his fangs puncturing the flesh in one, swift motion. He presented to Alois his palm bleeding with a fresh stigmata, the wolf blood bubbling from the wound looking almost black under the dim candlelight. He grasped Alois’s face firmly with the wounded hand, smearing his blood on his forehead, dragging it over his eyes and across his snout, forcing it on his lips and tongue until he would drink.

The blood was thick and intense, tasting of bitter cold under the freezing moon, of air burning in lungs in hot pursuit, of prey steaming with torn jugular on the glittering snow. An overwhelming sensation gripped Alois’s chest, and he struggled to free himself of his constricting clothes, the urge to draw in breath willing his clumsy fingers to work. Grigori loosened his hold on Alois’s throat, and let the sweaty, half naked fox pant under him all the while he felt up the musculature on his chest and belly, his long fingers sinking in the fluffy coat and staining it with a trail of wolf blood.

“You came to me to be sated, and now your cup runs over. I will let you drink deep.”

He tossed Alois around on his belly and pulled down his pants, exposing his shapely rump, and slid inside the fox without resistance. His firm, hefty shaft stretched the fox’s pucker wide open, making wet noises as its veiny length entered in a long, continuous push, throbbing hot and heavy in his ass. Even in his youth Alois had never been on the receiving end, and just as he started to become used to the sensation, he felt the tip enter all the way to his abdominal region. He gasped and tried to break free, but Grigori pinned him down again by his neck, pressing his face against the dusty floorboards and started riding the smaller male with hard, vigorous thrusts.

Alois burned with humiliation and arousal, his own dick bouncing rigid between his legs with every thrust, sending strands of precum across the floor. He could taste the dirt on the floor and blood in his mouth, smell the wolf’s musky lust dripping out of his tender anus and onto his inner thighs as the meaty shaft grinded him closer and closer to a climax. He growled, huffed, and arched his back to receive all of the wolf in him, all the while the larger male sated his lusts on his trapped body.

Alois climaxed first, cumming hard without even touching his cock, shooting his copious load onto the cold floorboards in several, body shuddering jolts. Grigori felt the fox’s asshole contract around his member and buried it in to the hilt, leering and panting, and painted his insides with jets of piping hot wolf cum, each pulse thick with sperm from his heavy balls flooding in and staining him with the stench of the feral beast. In the afterglow of their orgasm Grigori leaned over to whisper in Alois’s ear with his breathy, honey-scented voice, his cock still deep in the fox.

“Go, with my blessing. Come back to me once you’ve taken out Reynard.”

Alois tried to mumble a response but the world started to grow more distant and dim to him, and the dizzying feeling in his head grew into an overwhelming vortex that pulled him under. The last thing he remembered seeing was the fangs, and the grin they belonged to before disappearing into blessed unconsciousness.

--

Alois woke up when the midday sun tickled his whiskers. He squinted his eyes and tried to rise up, but regretted it immediately and fell back into the rose bushes where he had been sleeping. A cautious reckoning revealed to him that he was completely naked, covered in cuts and scrapes, and he had aches in places that he didn’t even know he had. His fur was stained with mud and blood and semen, giving him an after party odor that was intolerable even by noble standards. He groaned and rose stiffly to a half sitting position. His current predicament was hidden by the bushes, but he knew that the gardens were frequented by guests and gardeners alike. Getting back to his quarters unseen would be a challenge, but that was not what worried him. What gave him a chilly feeling of dread was the realization that he was under the window of Reynard’s bedroom, and based on the scratch marks on the stucco he had tried to climb in during the hours he had lost from his memory.

--

It was dark again when the fox limped back to his apartments, exhausted, filthy and starved. He donned a gown after brushing off the worst of the muck and called for his servant. After receiving reassurance that nothing untowards had happened to the prince during his absence he asked the man to draw him a scented bath and bring him some supper. The dog complied courteously but could not completely hide a grin as he closed the door behind him. Alois moaned and slipped into the water. Tomorrow every maid and stable-boy in the palace would joke about how old master Alois had started to hit the bottle a bit too much, but now all that mattered was the warmth that soothed his stiff limbs and the subtle perfume that washed away the wolf-stench from his nose and brain.

He had been drifting away into comfortable sleep when his door opened with a groan. “Alois?” came a whisper in the voice of a scared Reynard.

“I am here your highness.”

Reynard ran rather than walked through the office and if Alois had not raised his hand preemptively he would have certainly splashed water all over the small bathroom by hugging the older fox.

“I am well, my friend, or at least well enough that I won’t expire just now.”

“I was dying with worry, I kept looking for you but no one had seen you since yesterday. What happened?”

“You could call it a bad case of lycanthropy,” the fox replied. Seeing Reynard’s puzzled look, he added, “This is something I cannot explain right now. But tell me, has the monk tried to see you today?”

“Father Grigori? No, why would he?”

“Nevermind,” Alois let out a sigh of relief. He had a strong suspicion that the wolf had left his dwelling in a hurry, but he made a note to send someone to check it. With some luck Grigori would have left enough compromising materials behind to have him banned from the palace grounds.

Reynard dragged a stool next to the bathtub and started washing Alois’s chest with a sponge. “You look terrible,” he said with a face full of concerned reproach, “I do not know where you have been but this wound will never heal at this rate.”

Alois lowered his gaze, feeling like a child being chastised in a strange reversal of roles. It occurred to him that from where he sat Reynard could behold him in his nakedness. He thought about covering his nethers with his hand but there was no embarrassment or shame hanging over the two of them, and when he rose from the bathtub to rinse and wrap himself into the linen towel that Reynard held out for him it felt only natural.

“I was thinking…” Reynard began as he rubbed the other fox's back, “That with the arrival of summer, it would be a good time to sail the royal barge down the river for a week or two. I haven't visited the provinces since I was a child, and with all the bad things that have happened lately a change of air is in order.”

He halted and looked at Alois with anticipation. When the man remained silent he fidgeted with the end of the towel and grinned. “Would you like to join me?”

“Your highness!” Alois jumped, “The affairs of state…”

“I know you are always so busy but you need more rest,” Reynard pleaded and grasped his friend's shoulder, “and I could take care of you… please?”

There was such an eagerness in the young man's eyes, almost like a small animal desperate to please, that the protest died in Alois's mouth. An idea lighted into his mind, and he took the prince by the hand and led him to a divan where they both sat.

“I could be convinced, but only if princess Maria comes with us.”

Reynard pursed his lips. “Why? I mean, someone needs to stay at the palace to…”

Alois playfully wrapped his hand around the man's slender muzzle. “Tsk, tsk! Is this how a husband and prince ought to speak? You have duties to your wife and to the kingdom, foremost of which is the fathering of an heir.”

“But I don't want…” Reynard mumbled.

“What you want or like is irrelevant in this regard. But don’t worry, as your advisor it is my role to… assist you in all your endeavours, even those that involve the bedroom.”

--

The trip on the royal barge was an opulent affair that stopped just short of being ostentatious. The staff onboard was kept to a minimum to ensure that their highnesses could enjoy their intimacy, but at each stop servants and hired hands busied themselves to ensure that the vessel was kept well-supplied with all that was needful for comfort.

A full company of horse patrolled both sides of the river to hold crowds at bay and keep the prince safe, but looking at the clear blue sky, flowery meadows and ripening fields even Alois felt his worries slowly recede, as if the daggers and vials of poison had agreed to stay behind at the palace.

“I feel more nervous by the hour,” Reynard grimaced and, somewhat hesitantly, took a seat next to Alois at the bow. He had a glass of wine in his hand, and Alois knew it wasn’t his first of the day.

“There is nothing to be afraid of, my friend. Maria loves you very much, and you could well find yourself enjoying it,” the older fox reprimanded. He took the glass out of the young man’s hand, “And, believe me, an excess of drink doesn’t help men perform better.”

As if speaking of the devil Maria emerged from the cabin and strolled in view of the two men. She was wearing a pristine white sundress, a modestly ankle length one, embroidered with lilies and inset pearls on the bodice and lace frills at its high necked collar. She noticed them and gave her white parasol a twirl over her shoulder, and as she approached the two men the sun shone behind her giving her almost a dreamlike glow, like some luminous spirit having descended among mortals.

“Hi boys,” she hid her coquettish smile behind her hand fan, “are you talking about how much you want to fuck me?”

Seeing Reynard’s reaction Alois was glad that he had taken away his drink, lest the prince would have choked on it.

“That’s, uh, quite frank talk for a lady,” the young man stammered.

“But my lord,” she continued with a lilting tone, “that is what needs to be done to sire an heir. I’ve heard that our good chancellor has been giving you lessons in this matter, hmm? Let’s put his skills to the test.”

She sat next to Reynard and leaned on him coyly, resting her head on his shoulder as if modeling for a romantic painting, but she let her parasol fall onto her lap to block the view from other people on the deck, and slipped her silk gloved hand quietly in Reynard’s pants. He made a choked gasp as she stroked his sheath, but after a while she frowned and gave Alois a stern look.

“Why is he still soft?”

“Nerves, my lady. The future of the realm depends on the young prince’s…issue, and that weighs heavy on his mind. Being here out in the open does not help with his performance anxiety either.” He finished Reynard’s drink in a single gulp and got up to leave. “I recommend trying again in the intimacy of the royal quarters, my lady.”

Maria reached out to take Alois by the wrist, stopping him from leaving with the same hand that had just been in her husband’s pants.

“But won’t you be joining us, chancellor? Surely your expertise would be invaluable.”

“My lady, surely it would be inappropriate to intrude upon your marital bliss.”

“Oh but I insist. He can order you to do it, and then you have to obey him, is it not so dear?” She gave a glance to Reynard, who was rapidly blushing.

“Sir…I would prefer it that way,” he managed to say, looking like he had been caught misbehaving red handed.

Alois stood still for a moment, and then bowed. “As you wish, your highness. I will visit your quarters after dinner. As a matter of principle I do not commit sins before sundown.”

“Then we definitely should have you after sundown, dear chancellor.” Maria smiled and gave her husband’s cheek a little kiss. “We will be waiting for you with open arms.”

Reynard was too flustered to answer, so Alois decided to let him navigate through the amorous advances of his wife on his own and bowed again to leave. That way his embarrassment would at least have one fewer pair of eyes as witnesses, he chuckled to himself as he strolled on the deck.

--

The dinner went long and took them into the night proper, when the darkness covered the landscape with its dulcet tones and left only the barge with its dozens of lanterns untouched. It bobbed on the river like a jewel, casting hundreds of rippling reflections on the water as it tugged lazily on its mooring ropes like a deep sea creature caught in a net, its crew having settled down for the night with only few living souls awake to traverse its stilled corridors.

Alois was one of them. He was still wearing his brocade doublet and pants from the dinner as he knocked softly on the door of the royal quarters, and let himself in after a quick look around to check that he was not seen. The room was illuminated by the creamy light of oil lamps, their flame unperturbed by the barge’s slow motion, gleaming on the tasteful silk upholstery and the dark lacquer of the walnut tree furniture. There was a scent of anticipation in the air, of sweat mixed with expensive perfume, and a whiff of port wine. To Alois’s disappointment Reynard had continued drinking over the evening, and was now slouching on a high backed chair looking a little uncertain how to handle all of his limbs. He had wiggled out of his formal wear and had just a loose blouse and knee high breeches on, and his black furred feet propped up on a footstool with their pawpads visible with little care for modesty.

Likewise modesty was not in the mind of Maria either. She was sitting on a canopied double bed with her legs tucked to one side, her back arched a little to bring out her curvy shapes, and laid a mischievous look on Alois. She was wearing just a silk negligee that barely reached her thighs, the darker color of her nipples shining through the thin, almost translucent cloth.

“Thank you for coming, lord chancellor,” she purred with a soft voice. “My lord husband has been fretting over his duties all night. I think he needs a little helping hand from you.”

Alois suppressed the need to roll his eyes. “Not even someone as alluring as you could get him up, my lady? What can an aging bureaucrat even hope to achieve then?”

She chuckled, the sound like pearls rolling between fingers. “Just some fatherly affection should suffice to give him confidence, my lord chancellor. Now bring him to me. I won’t take no for an answer.”

She slid forward to sit on the edge of the bed and spread her legs, pulling up her negligee and revealed her cute, snug looking slit with a hint of pink caught in between, modestly tucked out of sight behind her plump pussy lips. Alois sighed and went to help Reynard to stand, pulling him up and letting him steady himself by leaning on his arm while he unbuttoned the prince’s shirt.

“Sir, I’m not…” the youth started with a slightly slurred tongue, but Alois cut him off.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright. I will hold onto you, and guide you. Feeling my hands on you is what you want, is it not?”

He let his hand wander as he spoke, taking hold of Reynard behind his neck and pulled him closer as if for a kiss, until tips of their noses were just barely about to brush against each other.

“Y-yes…” Reynard gasped, and stood still in attention as Alois knelt in front of him to unbutton his pants. Despite his inebriation his erection peeked its pointy tip out of his sheath, its fresh and light musk belonging to a young man wafting into Alois’s nostrils as he hovered his face close to it.

He gave Reynard’s hip a reassuring pat and then helped the prince to step out of his clothes, walked him by the hand to the royal bed where Maria was waiting, and made him kneel in front of her. Her eagerness was ever more present in her pose and breathing, her negligee having been discarded to the side revealing her perky breasts and the luxurious fur of her soft belly, and she leaned backwards, looking at the pair expectantly between half closed eyelids. With a hand on Reynard’s shoulder and head Alois guided him between her legs and told him to eat. As if picking up the baton Maria took the young man’s head in her hands and pulled him firmly into her crotch, smothering him with the soft touch of her fragrant flesh.

Alois petted the prince’s neck and caressed him along the back while he made wet, breathless noises between his wife’s legs. Maria gasped and then sighed, moving her hips and slung her leg over her huband’s shoulder, keeping him in a tight hold. But when Alois glanced up he caught Maria looking at him. Her expression was satisfied yet almost detached, as if she was enjoying a pleasant afternoon ride on a horse instead of making love to her dear husband. She grinned at Alois and opened her mouth to say something, but had to pause to inhale sharply when Reynard happened to hit a particularly sweet spot, and when she collected herself she had a barely contained, husky tone that betrayed the pleasure building up in her nethers.

“Did you know that I was not a virgin when we got married?” she asked while looking down at Alois smugly, challenging him.

“What a strange confession to make.” He continued to pet the prince, kneeling so close to him that the young man was between his legs.

“When you’re a sheltered, ah, sheltered noblewoman growing up, you make do with any cock you get your hands on.”

“But to what end?”

“To prove that I’m not above taking yours too, chancellor.”

“You’re worried that your husband’s is not enough?”

“Nothing’s ever enough.” She closed her eyes and craned back her neck, savoring the sensations flowing from her wet cunt. “Make him mount me now. I need him inside me,” she commanded simply.

Alois reached his hand around Reynard and felt up his family jewels. Despite the veritable feast laid in front of him, the prince was still half flaccid, but when he felt Alois’s hands stroke his sheath and cup his balls, he started hardening immediately. His full length emerged from its hiding place, as pink as his wife’s sex, its knot already swelling up. Alois encouraged him to climb on top of his wife, and as he entered her she let out a breathy, drawn out sigh of satisfaction. Without prompting Alois nuzzled Reynard under his tail, grasping and then spreading out his shapely buttocks, and gave his rosewater scented pucker a long, loving lick. He made out with the young prince’s asshole, giving it sloppy kisses and inhaled in deep his aroma, while Maria grinded her body against Reynard and covered his face with kisses of her own.

Feeling the tightness in his pants Alois undid the buttons and let out his own erection, bigger and more experienced than the prince’s, and let its weight rest in the cleft between his buttocks while he undid the buttons of his jacket and shirt. He no longer needed the bandages, and the only trace of his grievous wound was a misalignment in the flow of the floofy fur on his belly. Maria nodded at him, liking what she saw, and Alois climbed on top of Reynard. The young man let out a warbling moan when he entered his pristine ass, that turned into short, breathless gasps as he started slowly thrusting in and out of that royal hole. The motion made Reynard move inside Maria, and she reached out to embrace Alois eagerly, sandwiching the prince between the two of them.

The three found their rhythm quickly, moving in unison in their many limbed dance, accompanied by the wet noises of their sex and sighs of pleasure. The scent of fuck juices was overpowering, and when Alois buried his nose in the prince’s neck fur and inhaled deeply he could smell Maria’s lust on his skin. They came one by one, the spurt of semen from one man encouraging the other to shoot out his load too, accompanied by Maria’s whimpering and tight, stifled moans as she climaxed again and again, her husband’s cock thrust in her by his senior minister.

Sweaty and leaking they collapsed into a breathless pile, laying on the bed together panting in exhaustion and afterglow of orgasmic bliss. Maria caressed Reynard’s head and held him against her breasts, whispering to him how much she loved him until his eyelids started to droop and he passed out into a fitless slumber. Alois rested behind her back, one hand on her shoulder and the other slid under her waistline. Even after emptying his ample load in the prince’s rectum his still stiff cock squirted thin lines of white on the small of Maria’s back, the sticky strands clinging to her sweat damp fur.

Maria shifted her position to look over her shoulder at Alois and spoke with a low, sultry tone.

“When the cat’s asleep, mice dance on the table.”

“I remember being called a wolf, not a mouse.” Alois craned his neck to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“You would deny me what you gave my husband?”

“It would be inconvenient if the prince’s heirs didn’t look like him.”

“I took herbs to increase my fertility. I’m sure there’s room for yours.”

She reached out to caress Alois’s stiff cock, and he did not bother to slap her hand away.

“Tempting, but I must respectfully decline your ladyship.”

“I could run naked into the corridor, crying that you tried to force yourself on me. Think of the scandal it would cause.”

She clenched her fingers around the base of his cock, just above the knot, and did not flinch when it spurted precum on her arm.

“My lady is putting me in a terrible conundrum,” Alois chuckled.

“And your lady can relieve you of it. Come, I’ll even present a hole more to your liking.”

She got onto her knees, her head resting on Reynard’s snoozing chest, and spread her asscheeks with both hands. Her pink hole gaped open wide, moist from the sweat and pooled fuck juices.

“See? Even you can’t make me pregnant there. This is your last call to fuck a queen, so stop pussyfooting already!”

Alois could feel himself getting horny again, and he rose up to feel up Maria's slender waistline and cushy rump. She was as soft as Reynard, but her ass felt looser than her husband’s when Alois slid the entirety of his shaft in her. Even his knot elicited only a small wince from her, and then it plopped inside too, making her purr with delight. His strokes were as slow and measured as when he fucked Reynard, grinding her rectum with his thick cock, and she responded by throwing her ass eagerly into his thrusts. She buried her face into sleeping Reynard’s chest ruff, huffing and licking the fur, all the while murmuring what a good boy he was while her sweet pucker was ravaged by Alois’s meat.

It took longer this time for Alois to build up for another climax, and when he finally managed to shoot the contents of his balls into the prince’s wife, he was by then panting with his tongue lolling out. He pulled out with a gush of semen squirting out of her asshole and fell back on the bed, sweaty and exhausted. Maria squirmed her hips, her fingers plunging into her asshole and scooping out his wolf blood tainted semen. She smeared it on her pussy lips, pushing it in as deep as her fingers reached, and melted down into a slack puddle of satisfied vixen, humping her own hand between her legs and came a second time.

Alois felt his throat parched, so he got up to pour himself wine, his erection bobbing between his legs as he padded across the cabin. He swirled his drink in its cup as he studied Maria curled next to Reynard on the bed, the soft light shimmering on her luscious curves, her expression loving as she whispered to the sleeping man. He sighed, deeply, and finished his drink before walking around the bed and settling down on the other side of Reynard. He caressed the prince silently, building up his resolve to speak.

“He is not a popular king. There are men who want him gone,” he eventually said as he brushed the fuzz on Reynard’s jawline with affection.

“I know,” she said with a tint of sadness and hugged Reynard tighter. “But we have you, have we not?”

Alois reached over Reynard for Maria’s hand and slid his fingers between hers. “You have me.”

The two of them closed their bodies around Reynard, who, true to his style, slept blissfully unaware of what was going on.

--

They were not alone, Alois knew it even before he emerged from his slumber. The room was dark, with only the faint outline of furniture discernible in the gloom, and silent, except for the quiet breathing of the sleeping couple. Yet through half-closed eyelids the fox glimpsed black shapes creeping across the room.

His body did not move and his breath remained deep and even as the two intruders came closer and looked upon them like crows above a sparrow’s nest. One was tall and serpentine, the other smaller and round of head.

“There’s three of them,” the first shape whispered, so subtly its voice was almost lost in the soft creaking of the boat’s beams.

“No change. We kill the prince and drug the others.”

A nod of approval, then the gurgling sound of liquid being poured from a bottle. The reptilian form leaned over Alois, its hand holding a rag that smelled of ether, while his accomplice went round to the other side of the bed. Alois waited until the bony-thin limb was so close he could see the glint of scales in the moonlight, and then he lashed out.

“Hhhssssss!” the lizard rattled between closed teeth. Alois’s jaws had caught his wrist and blood was already gushing on the silken bedsheets. He drew back in a panic, holding his mangled hand. “What the-” his accomplice cried out, but before he could leap to the rescue Alois grabbed the heavy water carafe at the bedside and smashed it against the lizard’s skull, sending him slumping over the bed.

“You dirtbag!” the second assassin cursed and drew something from his belt. Alois saw a blade shine in the moonlight and rolled out of the way just in time to dodge the sharp steel that plunged into the mattress. Reynard had woken up and in a heartbeat Alois saw the man turn his head towards the young fox. Without hesitation Alois lunged at the killer, wrapped his arms around his torso and together the two males rolled off the bed and slammed onto the carpeted floor.

“Let me go, let me…”

Alois cut short the intruder’s protests by taking him in a headlock. An otter, he immediately knew as he felt damp fur against his skin and a thick tail lashing his legs. He throttled him hard, and was rewarded by a desperate choked sound and by a flash of tearing pain when sharp teeth bit into his forearm. The fox relaxed his grip for a second and the man wriggled free of his grip, spun around and kneed him between the legs.

A heave escaped Alois’s gasping mouth. He doubled over in pain, one hand cupping his gonads and the other rising in an vain attempt at self-defense. The assassin jumped to his feet, pulled his dagger from the mattress and suddenly collapsed. Through a mist of tears Alois saw the wide-eyed figure of Reynard peek from the edge of the bed, a brass candlestick in hand.

“Oh God… he hurt you… and Maria!” the young man quavered, his head turning to his wife and back to Alois again.

“The other, where is he?” Alois managed to utter as he gripped the bedsheets and forced himself to a half-sitting position. As if to answer his question, the reptile dashed towards the exit. Alois instinctively reached out and caught the tip of his tail. It snapped with an audible, sickening crack and the man was gone, a faint splash of water echoing his flight a few seconds later. The severed limb writhed in Alois’s hand, worm-like, and he threw it away in anger and disgust.

A candle was lit, and to both men’s relief Maria was unconscious but breathing. An ether-soaked rag, dropped by the otter when the commotion started, lay at the foot of her side of the bed. Reynard dabbed a wet handkerchief to her brow and nose with a trembling hand while Alois tied their prisoner to a chair and gagged him. He had told Reynard not to call for help, and the frightened young fox had obeyed without a question.

The otter moaned, opened his eyes, closed them, shook his head and opened them a second time. He looked to be about the same age as Reynard, with a lithe but strong body and a long scar on his naked chest. He must have swam to the barge, for his only garment was a narrow strip of cloth wrapped tightly around his waist and between his legs. Alois sat in front of him, still nude, a bandage around his arm just below the elbow and his bruised nethers hurting dully. The prince was by his side with a candle in hand.

The grey-furred fox waited until the assassin had come to his senses and raised the blade of the dagger just below his chin.

“I am going to ungag you. One cry and I pluck your left eye out. Understood?”

The otter understood. Alois rose, removed the cloth from the man’s mouth, walked behind him and pressed the flat of the blade against his neck. “Who sent you?”

No answer. Alois's palm whacked the man behind the head.

“Who sent you?”

“No one,” the otter answered sourly, “We just wanted to rob.”

Alois sighed. “Maybe I haven’t made myself clear.”

The dagger moved from the otter’s neck to his belly and slid between loincloth and skin. With a flick of Alois's wrist the blade sliced the fabric in half and it fell off on both sides of the man’s groin, revealing a dark, smooth-skinned member and a sack coated in short soft hair. The otter whimpered as the tip of the dagger prickled his orbs, “Now answer me, who sent you?”

The otter’s breath came in ragged gasps and the shaky light from the candle illuminated eyes from which defiance was rapidly vanishing. “I… I don’t know any names.”

“Not good enough,” Alois whispered as the blade punctured the prisoner’s scrotum, just enough to draw a bit of blood. Reynard’s mouth opened in silent shock but a glance from Alois convinced him to remain still.

“They… they said we would find the prince and his wife here. They gave us two hundred crowns now and promised four hundred more after we did it…. We were supposed to drug the lady and smother the prince with a pillow. They told us not to worry about the guards, that they wouldn’t be on duty.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“We never met anyone in person but we were warned that the people who paid had important friends and that we'd be killed if we talked.”

Alois shifted the dagger away from the man’s privates. The otter closed his eyes and drew a long breath of relief.

“Listen- I’m really sorry. If you don’t call the guards I can show you where the gold is, and then I’ll disappear. I'll never hurt anyone again.”

“I won’t tell them,” Alois replied as he coiled a strip of bedsheet like a rope between his hands, “Is there anything else you know?”

“I told you everything, I swear.”

“Then you may die.”

Alois swiftly looped his rope over the man's head and pulled hard. Shock, then terror flashed on the otter's face as his windpipe was yanked shut. He fought back with considerable strength, rattling the chair and making the muscles of Alois's arms bulge. But it was no use, the noose remained tight around his neck and his struggles became desperate and erratic.

Reynard raised his hand to his mouth in horror but a glance from Alois froze him in place. In the flickering light of the candle his eyes met with those of his would-be murderer before he looked away. The otter shook his head from left to right, foam drooling from his lips and tears rolling from blood-shot eyes. His tail thumped, his penis stiffened and after a minute of agony there was a raspy gurgle, a rope of semen on the carpet and it was over.

Alois let go of the garrote and the assassin's head slumped limply on his chest, a trail of drool dribbling on his lower body.

“You… you killed him…” Reynard whispered in a voice that was as soft and weak as the candle's flame.

“Yes, just like he would have killed you,” Alois replied somberly.

“But… but why? Who would want to…”

“There are men who would hurt you and Maria because they covet your position. I was hoping to shield you from the cruelty of this world but I was wrong to think I could do it.”

“Let's tell Gervais at once, he will…”

Two irritable hands gripped the young fox's arms and shook some sense into him.

“Reynard, use your brains! Why do you think this thug,” he pointed at the otter, who was staring at the floor with eyes that no longer saw, “was not afraid of being caught? Who do you think is at the head of your security detail? And who stands to seize the reins of government with you gone?”

Reynard opened his mouth, then closed it, stupefaction and fear jousting on his features.

“Yes,” Alois continued, “I'm afraid your enemies are becoming more impatient, and they will be all the more ruthless when they find out that your loins have produced an heir.”

Both men turned their heads towards Maria. She was fast asleep, her naked breast rising and falling peacefully as she breathed the air of the room in which one man had died and two others almost lost their lives.

“It's impossible,” Reynard whispered, “Gervais and Oliver… my own advisors…”

“There is no shortage of men who would rip a babe from its mother's womb if it meant more wealth and power for them.”

And there is no shortage of fools either, Alois raged internally, I could have made everything right, Gervais and Oliver could have walked away with their lives and a fat prize but they wanted it all.

“What can we do?” the small fox asked miserably and clutched Alois's arm.

“You will have to learn to be brave, my friend, there is no other way. First, we must clean up this mess.”

They trussed up the assassin’s corpse and attached a heavy bronze figure to his feet. When they lifted the body Reynard started to shake and almost dropped the gruesome burden, but after this false start he steadied himself sufficiently to help Alois carry it on deck. The sky was grey with the incoming dawn when the river swallowed the otter almost without a sound. The lizard's tail followed immediately after like a grotesque wreath.

“What now?” Reynard trembled. The early morning air was chill, and his fur was still bare. No guard was in sight on the deck.

“They will soon know they failed, that will make them panic and try again. We have no choice but to take the fight to them. In the meantime we must disappear, or Maria will be in danger. After tonight this isn't just about you anymore.”

Reynard hesitated, so Alois reached out and gave his hand a firm squeeze.

“Together.”

The young prince gulped, and then nodded.