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The Elk Inn

Chapter Two

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

5th September, 2024

All Rights Reserved.

Rowan and Oliver, the twin whitetail brothers, strolled through the quiet city streets, the cool evening air brushing against their fur. Oliver nibbled gracefully on the last of the snacks he'd bought from a little store a block behind them. They wandered at random, down one street and up the other, admiring the mixture of old brick buildings and modern glass facade. It was familiar to them both, yet different at the same time.

Oliver walked on a few paces, his mind wandering, before he paused, and then looked back over his shoulder. Rowan stood behind him, his head tilted at a strange angle, his leathery nostrils flaring as he breathed deeply.

"Do you smell that?" Rowan asked, his voice low and intrigued, as he looked towards his brother.

Oliver sniffed the air, detecting nothing out of the ordinary. "No, I do not – what is it?"

Rowan turned, almost like his nose was a radar, his gaze intense and focusing. Carefully, he crossed the street and began walking down a narrow alleyway. Curious, his sibling followed, his ears twitching and eyes darting from side to side. Their cloven hooves clicked softly on the pavement, as they both paused as the alley ended at a major thoroughfare, pedestrians and vehicles passing them by.

Once again, Rowan moved with intent and purpose, seemingly being drawn by some scent that Oliver couldn't smell. A short walk brought them both to a large, ornate wooden door, nestled between two brick buildings. Above the door hung a weathered sign, almost blended into its surroundings, hanging by old chains that were affixed to a fancy iron wrought post above the door.

"Huh, The Elk Inn?" Rowan read aloud, tilting his head back to admire the weathered sign. Faded paint curled along its edges, depicting a pair of large, imposing antlers that loomed over the name. “Weird. Never heard of it."

Oliver squinted at a smaller sign tucked into the window, its letters nearly erased by time and sunlight. He leaned in closer, his breath fogging the glass as he whispered, “cervid-specific?"

A knot of unease tightened in his chest. “Are we sure about this?" he murmured, stepping back from the door as if the mere thought of entering made his fur prickle.

Rowan blinked, momentarily startled. "I mean," he began, then scratched the back of his neck. "I know we long ago abolished such nonsense, having species-specific clubs and things. You remember the lectures in school, don't you? How predators were segregated from us herbivores – now -"

Rowan gestured with a paw, watching as both predator and prey moved about the street, completely at ease and relaxed around each other.

"It must be a throw-back to an older time and place," Rowan mused. "Well, seeing as we're here, might as well go inside. I don't know about you, little brother, but I wouldn't mind a nice beer or three!"

Oliver's eyes widened slightly as he re-read the sign, his usual nervousness starting to assert itself. "Are we sure about this? I mean... with what we are – we don't exactly fit in everywhere!"

Rowan rolled his eyes, then reached for the door handle. "We'll be fine," he reassured, giving Oliver a confident look. "Besides, we're deer. It states it's a cervid club. They'll have stuff just for us, right?"

Oliver followed as Rowan pushed open the door and entered.

*

As the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit space bathed in the warm, golden glow of flickering lanterns. For a moment, neither brother moved.

A wave of scents crashed over them – the rich musk of well-worn leather, exotic oils rubbed into the timber, and something else, something deeper and more primal.

Rowan took a cautious step inside, his gaze sweeping the room. To the right, a towering red dee stood behind the bar, his antlers casting long shadows against the walls. Further in, reindeer waitstaff moved with practised grace, the bells on their ribbons jingling softly with every step, their bare hooves tapping lightly against the scuffed wooden floor.

Oliver hesitated just inside the doorway, his heart hammering in his chest. Something about the atmosphere unsettled him – the subtle glances, the quiet hum of conversation, the way the air seemed charged with an unspoken energy. His eyes darted to the far side of the room, where a massive bull elk looked over the patrons, his sheer size commanding attention.

“Rowan," Oliver whispered, his voice tight. “are you sure about this?"

Oliver trembled, standing closer to Rowan, feeling the attention of the room on them both. Rowan gently nudged his brother, then walked forward with his usual quiet confidence, the tension seemed to lift. The barman caught their eye and gave a welcoming nod, his antlers casting long shadows on the wall behind him.

Oliver relaxed slightly, though he remained close to his brother's side. “This place is... different," he whispered, a mix of awe and nerves in his voice.

“Yeah," Rowan blinked, then did a double take, as a young reindeer doe sauntered past – dressed only in her harness and bells, carrying a large tray easily in her three-fingered hand. “I really think we'll like it here."

*

The Elk Inn, while initially appearing as a quaint, cervid-specific bar, revealed its mysteries quickly to the two young whitetails. The warm ambience of the bar contrasted with the more intimate and uninhibited activities happening within its walls.

As they settled in, the room slowly revealed its secrets. It wasn't just a bar, and it wasn't just a place for drinks and laughter.

Oliver's breath caught in his throat as he noticed a couple in the corner, locked in a deep and very passionate embrace. At first, he thought nothing of it, until the movement became unmistakable – hands tracing fur, lips pressing against exposed skin. His gaze flicked away, but everywhere he looked, he saw the same: bodies intertwined, antlers brushing, soft sighs mingling with the jingle of bells and the clink of large mugs.

“Rowan!" Oliver whispered, his voice quavering. His hand tightened around his mug, but Rowan only grinned, raising his own to his lips as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

The realisation settled in slowly, like the warmth of the fire spreading through his body. Here, in the Elk Inn, the rules were different. The boundaries blurred.

In the main room, some patrons were openly affectionate, their interactions went from tender and romantic, to intense and passionate. There was an air of casual intimacy, where touches and embraces were welcome and shared, simply a part of who and what this place was. The reindeer waitstaff, buck and doe alike, apart from their belled harnesses, were naked, their jingling bells adding a playful soundtrack to the moans, squeals and panting around them. They seamlessly attended to guests with some actively – and willingly – participating in the bar's permissive culture.

Rowan and Oliver, initially taken aback, began to acclimate to the environment around them. Rowan's confidant demeanour guided them through their initial discomfort and confusion, whilst Oliver found reassurance in his brother's presence. They casually observed the interactions around them, noting the genuine respect and consent that defined every encounter. A complete lack of shame and judgement, just the focus on pleasure, created a fascinating and liberating atmosphere.

As they settled at the bar, they found themselves drawn into polite conversations with the barman, who was all too happy to explain the bar's philosophy of open, consensual enjoyment. Regardless of species, particular gender or sexual inclination – all were welcomed and accommodated.

Oliver's hooflets clattered against the mug as he wrapped both paws around in, staring down into its depths, his inner ears turning a brilliant scarlet as the blush crept into them.

Rowan twisted about on the stool, his curiosity driving him to try and understand the rules and norms of this new environment. He scanned the room, trying to discern whether the activities were part of a paid service or simply accepted within this bar.

“Excuse me, but can you please clarify some things for us? We're new to this town and – well – how do things work here? Are there specific rules, or fees or... anything we should be aware of?"

The red deer, with his easygoing manner, offered a reassuring smile. “No need to worry young one," he replied warmly. “Everything here is about consent and enjoyment. There's no requirement for payment beyond drinks and food. What you see is part of the atmosphere and philosophy of the Elk Inn. As long as it's consensual, it's all a part of the experience. If you're interested in exploring more, just let one of our lovely staff know. All persuasions can be accommodated here, I promise you."

Meanwhile, Oliver reserved and shy, was overwhelmed by the sight of a reindeer doe lying on her back, a large male red deer rutting her on the floor near the bar. Her groans and his sharp, panting breaths as their hips met with loud, sensual slaps – only exasperated his embarrassment and he looked away, his eyes darting around for something less stimulating.

Taking a deep drink from his beer, Rowan's ear flicked, hearing the slight catch in Oliver's breath. Turning his attention to his brother, he nudged him playfully. “Hey, it's alright," he said softly. “This is all new, but we don't have to dive headfirst into it! We can take it slow and just enjoy the evening. We're here to have a good time and relax, now, loosen up – you're so tense! We can set our own pace...there's no need to rush."

Oliver glanced at his brother, still blushing but visibly relieved by Rowan's supportive presence. “Thanks, Rowan," he murmured. “I guess I'm just not used to seeing this... so openly."

Rowan smiled and rested his hand on Oliver's thigh, giving a gentle squeeze, before they both cupped their drinks and observed, letting themselves relax and adapt to the environment at their own individual pace. Leaning back against the bar, with a deep, contented sigh, the scents of the room doing wonders on Rowan, he just took it all in.

There were multiple species, whitetail, red, a few sambar, fallow, and even a quartet of mule deer – their large ears and distinctive markings made them stand out. Some ate, some drank and chatted, and others either received or gave pleasure to their own kind – or others. Rowan snickered, raising his beer mug in a celebratory toast as a young fallow buck, his paws resting on the head of an older reindeer, shuddered and lunged – his friends cheering and laughing.

“First-time virgin, the card has been punched!" One of the fallow yelled, and the whole bar erupted in cheers and laughter, much to the shaking fallow's embarrassment.

“Oh, oh my..." Oliver gasped, then spun his stool back around, settling his mug on the counter with a distinctive rattle.

Rowan grinned and shook his antlered head. “I'm definitely liking this place..."

*

Their first time at the Elk Inn, they had a lovely meal, seasoned and prepared to perfection, a dozen beers between them – Rowan happily consuming Oliver's, when the younger buck pushed his last one away, pressing his fingers to his muzzle as he belched and blushed. Whilst Rowan was tempted – more than once – he didn't quite feel comfortable enough to ask one of the reindeer – or – as he found out, either the barman or – which surprised and shocked him – the bull elk security.

One thing that wasn't lost on either of the young whitetails – neither the elk nor the barman wore clothing...

About ten thirty, Oliver was helped off the stool and stood quivering, having a little too much of the beer, and Rowan chuckled and dropped some money on the bar, before draping his arm over his brother's back and escorting him out of the bar.

As the cool night air struck, Oliver began to tremble, then gag. He stumbled away into an alleyway, Rowan following, before the younger sibling hunched over and was violently sick. Rowan tenderly held his brother, shaking his head slowly.

“Drink in moderation Oliver, you don't have the physiology or ability, to match me. That beer was way stronger than even I normally drink, hey, it's okay, you're alright."

Oliver retched and coughed, his body shivering as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shuddered.

“Come on, let's get you home and cleaned up --" Rowan suggested, helping his unsteady brother down the street.

*

The next morning, Oliver felt like roadkill. His head throbbed, his body ached, and a wave of nausea rolled through him as he lay in bed. Shuddering, he squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness leaking through the curtains. He rolled over, pulling the pillow over his head as if it could shield him from the consequences of last night's overindulgence. A weak, muffled moan escaped him from beneath the pillow, his entire body protesting any movement.

All he wanted was to disappear under the covers and sleep off the lingering effects of the beer that had hit him harder than expected.

Rowan, already awake and moving around the apartment, chuckled softly as he peeked into the bedroom they shared. His sharp eyes took in his brother's miserable form, the pillow drawn over Oliver's head like a shield against the world.

“Morning, sunshine!" Rowan teased, leaning against the door frame. “How's that hangover treating you?"

Oliver groaned in response, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I feel like I've been trampled by a herd of elk..."

Rowan laughed quietly and approached the bed, gently pulling the pillow away. “You kind of brought it on yourself. That beer was way too strong for you. Besides – trampled – isn't the word I'd use. I saw how you flicked surreptitious glances at that bull elk..."

“I know... I know... “ Oliver muttered, wincing as Rowan's soft voice seemed to echo painfully in his head. “Please, stop talking. It hurts..."

With a sympathetic smile, Rowan reached out and ran a hand gently over his brother's chest, a calming gesture between them. “I'll get you some water. You'll need to rehydrate after last night."

Oliver peeked up at him from beneath half-lidded eyes, still looking groggy and unsettled. “Thanks... and something for my stomach too?"

“I got you," Rowan smiled, giving another gentle reassuring pat to his brother. “Just stay put..."

As Rowan headed toward the kitchen, Oliver flopped back against the mattress, sighing heavily. He couldn't stop the memories of the night before from flooding back – the strange bar, the uninhibited atmosphere, and the overwhelming sense of discomfort that had gripped him. But then there was Rowan, calm and in control, guiding him through all of it.

Admit it – come the thought in his addled mind. You can't stop thinking of that bull elk, can you? You saw what you saw, can you imagine how it would...

Oliver's musing was broken off when Rowan returned with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin, Oliver accepting them gratefully, sipping slowly and wincing at every movement, before tugging the bed cover up to his chin.

Rowan sat on the edge of the bed, watching him carefully, a slow smile slowly touching his lips, before he became serious and ignored the growing tenting of the bed covers.

“You sure you're okay?" Rowan asked, sitting so he could face his brother.

“Yeah..." Oliver murmured, rubbing his thudding temples. “I'm just... that place, you know? It was so... different."

Rowan nodded, flicking an ear. “I could tell you were nervous, but you handled it well. We don't have to go back there if you're uncomfortable. You know, if it's not your thing..."

Oliver glanced up at him, his expression softening. “No, it's not that I hated it. It was just... a lot. I guess I'm still processing it all. I'm used to the clubs back east, you remember? I'm still processing it all."

Rowan nodded. “Take your time little brother. There's no rush. We'll go at your own pace."

Oliver managed a weak smile, comforted by his brother's understanding. “Thanks, Rowan. I really appreciate it."

“Anytime," Rowan replied with a smirk. “Now, get some rest – you'll feel better in no time – oh – and just so you know... well, you can just ask that elk..."

Leaning down, Rowan gently kissed his brothers cheek, feeling the heat of the blush beneath the fur, before he rose and walked out of the bedroom.

To Be Continued...