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Velvet & Bone: The Hairy Fig

© 2025 Bruno Hirschkoff

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Part 4

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Stillwater Cove, 1420AD

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Moth Seacoal was breathing heavily with anticipation and pent-up excitement, slung over Bruno Hirschkoff’s shoulder as she was, while the enormous elk carried her the short distance through the Hairy Fig from the room he’d rented for Sammael the fallow stag to sleep off his night, towards the hedonistic promise of Dytaea’s Harem. The silver vixen’s evening was not quite going as she had planned, but that was sort of the point – one didn’t come to the Hairy Fig with any particular ambition nor clear intent. It was the kind of establishment in which ambition and intent were confined within its walls, where premeditation often led to the petering out of opportunity.

Moth had been coming to the Hairy Fig for as long as she’d lived in Stillwater Cove. Not with enormous regularity, particularly since the birth of her daughter Pepper in 1406, but it had always been there for her when she needed companionship, or just a place to unshackle herself from her daily life for an evening.

The ale, wine and strong liquor flowed freely, musicians abounded in the taproom, the bathhouse was always welcoming, and the selection of more intimate spaces within its walls was second to none in the region. It was, in the eyes of the Arahanic church, little more than a seething pit of vice – a drinking hole, brothel and open-access rutting-house, where any and all could indulge in their basest physical desires for a paltry entrance fee. But that was exactly why it remained so popular, as it had been for generations.

Moth’s head spun softly with intoxication from the ale she’d drunk, as well as the arousal that had brought her to the Fig in the first place, that evening. As a vixen, she was only too aware that she often had a body odour that repulsed many folks of other species, and those who were not repulsed by it usually had a specific fetish for musk that went beyond her comfort zone. But Bruno was different somehow. The elk was not repulsed by her scent, and while he openly claimed to enjoy it, he did not strike her as the type who’d fetishise it.

“Nearly there… watch your head,” Bruno rumbled quietly, carefully manoeuvring Moth beneath a low archway and around a tight bend.

He ducked his enormous antlers to fit beneath it himself, and carried her up a short, narrow stairway to a small atrium within a squat, round tower in the heart of the Hairy Fig, built over the stone canal bridge itself. There, he crouched and set Moth back on her paws. She stumbled as the blood rushed out of her head, and shook down the folds of her dress. Around the atrium were a series of doorways, behind which were the Hairy Fig’s ‘public’ intimate lounges, spaces where people went to indulge their particular proclivities.

“Oh, ye wants t’fuck me in the Harem, eh?” Moth said coarsely, grinning toothily and nodding her head behind Bruno to a wide arched doorway, over which a sign hung that read ‘Dytaea’s Harem.’

Bruno returned her grin, took a step towards her, towering over her, and tenderly cupped her cheek in his hand. Moth chittered in excitement and leaned into him, slipping her hand down to crudely grope him. While he carried his tunic slung over his shoulder, he was still shamelessly nude, and had been ever since he’d bathed Sammael downstairs. Moth’s thick, white-tipped, black brush twitched, and she felt a fresh tremble of excitement between her thighs at the feeling of his cock thickening and firming readily to her touch. Behind Bruno, a slender, shadowy figure in a hooded cloak slipped past, on his way somewhere.

“Aye, there is something exciting about exploring one another in a shared space, is there not?” Bruno said, dropping his hand from her cheek to her chest, softly squeezing her breast through the soft cloth of her dress. “Do not fret about your scent, Moth. If anyone in the Harem has a problem with fox musk, they can jump in the canal. You are who you are. Come…”

Bruno captured her hand in his, and propelled the vixen in front of him towards the archway. Behind a tiny desk sat an ageing donkey mare, who squinted to them myopically when they presented. An admissions clerk, of a sort. Her nostrils twitched.

“A fine evenin’. Two of ye? Cervid and… no mistakin’ that Lupa musk. Vixen?”

The Hairy Fig was known for looking after its own, for life. The admissions clerk had probably been an indentured courtesan at the place for her whole life, but as age and weariness crept into her bones, had transitioned to an administrative role.

“Aye, right you are. It’s Bruno Hirschkoff, Estrid – good to see you again,” Bruno said to her.

Moth, who still held Bruno’s coinpurse, placed two silver pennies on the mare’s tiny desk, and she picked them up to squint at them. At length, she nodded, and swept the coins into a slot in the desk, where they clinked against those coins previously collected.

“Good to smell ye again, Bruno. I’d say ‘good to see ye,’ but I cannot!” Estrid cackled.

“Still as beautiful as ever, though,” Bruno quipped.

“Oh shut yer silver-tongued mouth, Bruno. I’m sixty-two, me tits ‘ang lower than me knees these days.”

“Beauty’s on the inside.” Moth put in. “The coatrack’s right, ‘e ain’t jus’ tryin’ ta butter ye up.”

“’Butter’ ain’t the thing I wish ‘e’d put up me,” Estrid returned without a pause. “Enjoy ‘im, fox, as I ‘ave many times in me younger days!”

Moth grinned widely at Estrid, and gave a vulpine purr. “Oh I shall. Pardon th’smell…”

*

Bruno chuckled quietly at Moth’s continuous mumbled apologies for her scent. The elk knew he’d likely never get her to stop apologising for something she was powerless to control – she’d had it drilled into her from a young age, no doubt, that she stank and people found it offensive.

Truthfully, fox musk was not an objectively pleasing scent – it was sulfurous and dense, and smelt a fair bit like low tide at the seaside, even vaguely sewery. But, Bruno reasoned, an elk doe in heat would smell to him, as a stag, like a field of roses. To Moth, she’d probably smell like rotting leaves. Everything was relative – it was just that fox musk tended to be stronger than most.

More than the scent itself, it was knowing where it came from that aroused Bruno. And Moth made no secret at all of her arousal.

Once they’d spoken to Estrid and paid admission to Dytaea’s Harem, Bruno once again felt Moth’s slender hand grab him by the cock, to playfully tug him inward through the gauze curtain, which Estrid held open for them. The old donkey couldn’t resist a poorly-aimed swat at Bruno’s bare arse as he was pulled past, and the reedy cackle of her laughter followed them into a wedge-shaped lounge that filled a full third of the tower’s circumference. A row of stone arches ran through the space, separating its outer circumference from its inner. Beyond the colonnade, the space was divided by thin walls into smaller, more intimate zones, for private hire. Before it, Dytaea’s Harem was an open lounge, where a dozen or more couples and groups, and even a few individuals, were at varying stages of sexual congress and intoxicated intimacy. Here, too, individual courtesans offered their services, even more openly than they did elsewhere in the Fig.

Bruno watched Moth’s brush quivering with excitement as she led Bruno through the open lounge, in some cases stepping over people writhing in sexual ecstasy, until they arrived at the colonnade.

Several Harem attendants stood against columns at the colonnade – indentured courtesans also, their role was to administer the use of the smaller spaces beyond, and to clean where needed. An attendant flicked her eyes up and down Bruno’s naked body, and subtly pressed her bare tits out for the elk’s appraisal.

“Naw, ‘e ain’t fer ya right now, lass,” Moth said, stepping in front of Bruno. “’e’s all mine! We needs a room…”

The attendant, unfazed, turned her back and silkily guided them to one of the curtained booths, at the end of the row. Moth paid her four bronze shillings, a significant sum for such simple service. He raised his eyebrows questioningly to Moth, who shrugged and simply bustled him into the booth.

“Finally, I got ya all to meself…” Moth purred, advancing on Bruno and immediately yanking at the strings of her bodice. “I’s been achin’ for that gut-puncher ‘o yours e’er since I first laid me eyeballs on it in the fucken privy…”

The elk laughed, and stepped in to meet the tiny, feisty vixen. The tips of her ears were at Bruno’s chest height, but she more than made up for her diminutive size with sheer tenacity. That appealed to Bruno – he’d always had a thing for coarse, forward women, and Moth was all of that in spades. She planted her hands on his broad chest and shoved him backwards. Bruno fell backwards into a soft nest of cushions, and grunted in surprise when he immediately found himself straddled by Moth. She shuffled up over his body and peered into his eyes, then kissed him roughly on the mouth. Bruno felt her breath quicken and become shaky immediately, and kissed her back with depth and passion. He felt blood rushing to his loins and lifted his hands to Moth’s backside, groping her through her dress even as he rose to erection under her dress, prodding up the inside of her thigh.

Hurriedly, desperately almost, Moth tugged and fought with her bodice, finally getting it unlaced and allowing her modest breasts to come into Bruno’s view finally. He gazed at them lustfully, and lifted a hand to tenderly brush a callused thumb across one of her dark nipples, causing it to stiffen and her body to immediately tremble and jolt. He cupped her breast on his palm, then, and let his other hand take over where Moth’s had become distracted. He unlaced her dress further, and felt the vixen move and slide her hips around over him until the head of his cock prodded and slid along the front of her undergarments. He groaned in lust and pushed upward.

“Ya like that?” Moth breathed, grinding her crotch onto the tip of his cock. “Fuck me I’m so wet!”

She kissed him again, then rose to her paws over him, straddling him in the cushions. Her dress fell from her narrow shoulders, and she kicked it aside. That left her only in her undergarments. Bruno gazed on her nearly-nude form lustfully, and sat up. Her undergarment was a simple wrap of fine, soft linen that was tied at her hip, and wrapped beneath her crotch. That single layer of cloth clung to Moth’s anatomy like a second skin, plastered to her fur with the wetness of her excitement, and Bruno couldn’t resist sitting up to bring himself closer to it. He lifted his hands to her hips and exhaled hotly over her crotch, then breathed in deeply through the damp fabric, filling his lungs with the thick, earthy scent of her vulpine arousal. Moth gave a strangled bark of surprise and he felt her grip his antlers, and push her groin into his face.

“Oh fuck… ya filthy pervert cunt-sniffer…” she murmured, mashing her crotch against his snout.

Bruno groaned deeply and gripped her buttocks in both hands, and fell backward with Moth on his face. She yelped and landed with her knees beneath his arms. He made short work of her linen wrap, unravelling it with skilled fingers. His eyes dropped to her crotch when he finally exposed her, and Moth felt a thrill of excitement at his direct gaze on her most intimate zone, gauging his reaction to her anatomy.

Moth Seacoal was not a Seilyrian vixen. Beneath her modest breasts, six additional ephemeral nipples adorned the vixen’s torso, each atop a much smaller mound of breast tissue. Her vulva, likewise, had a distinctive vulpine form; an inverted heart-shape that was, at that time, swollen with her arousal and glistened with wetness. Bruno stared at her for a long moment, and then up at her face, where he saw a flicker of trepidation pass across Moth’s features. As if he was likely to reject her.

“I have never been with a natural Lupa woman before,” he said quietly.

“Ye doesn’t have to, antlers,” she said meekly. “As I said, I shan’t be offended if…”

Her words died on her tongue when instead of rejecting her, Bruno instead caressed upward over her torso, finding her lowermost pair of ephemeral nipples and circling them with his thumbs, while he pressed his snout right in against her spade and tenderly bathed it with his tongue.

“Oh fuck!” Moth growled.

Her hips jolted involuntarily, and Bruno parted his lips to engulf her vulva, swiping his broad, flat tongue upward along it rhythmically. Then he paused and pulled back to grin up at her.

“Apologies if I’m aimless with it – I’ve never even seen one like it, so I’ve no idea how it works… Are these sensitive?” he asked, softly pinching her lowermost belly-nipple.

In response, Moth quivered and panted at him. “Aye. Very. Ohh fuck, when ye push yer tongue up me like that… nngh…”

“Oh, like this?” Bruno grinned cheekily and did it again, pressing his tongue to the apex of Moth’s spade and wriggling it between her swollen folds. She gasped and bucked her hips, and lost control. She grabbed his antlers and began to vigorously hump the elk’s mouth, mashing her vulva against his tongue and his dental pad, until moments later, she climaxed. Her hips quivered and jolted rhythmically, and in the aftermath, she sat back on his chest, breathing hard.

“Sorry. Didn’t hurt ye, did I?”

Bruno had an expression of immense glee on his face, and his beard was webbed with her sticky, musky fluids.

“Not at all. But equally, I’ve never had a woman fuck my face until she came before, either. Oh, I’ve eaten my share of cunt, don’t you worry, but never quite like that…”

“Aye, most men couldn’t give two rat’s arses about a woman’s pleasure, but ye knows what ye’re doin…”

“Hah, I truly do not, but I’m a fast learner,” the elk smirked.

He gently guided Moth to lay on her back in the nest of pillows, and moved over her. Her ears flattened and her thighs parted around him almost automatically. Then Bruno felt her hands on his cock again, and pushed it firmly through her fingers, smearing them with his precum.

“Fuck me…” Moth said. “I need ye to fuck this fawn-maker up me…”

She mouthed erotically over his chest, and Bruno suddenly grunted in pleasure when her lips found one of the thick gold rings pierced through his nipples. In response, she changed her grip on his rod and began to masturbate him. From that angle it was awkward, but it was important for her to explore him the way he had explored her, not to just progress immediately to fucking her. She stroked him roughly for a few moments, and then teased his drooling, circumcised tip against the tight heat of her vulva. That was all the prompting he needed. Bruno gently, slowly gyrated his hips, pushing himself forward through the vixen’s hands. He felt resistance at first, and then suddenly, hot, silken wetness engulfed his glans. Moth’s loud groan was one of relief and pleasure when finally, Bruno flexed his hips with intent, pushing forward into her body.

“About fuckin time,” Moth growled. “Arahan’s teeth, ye’re so much bigger’n me ‘usband…”

“I’m twice your size in every direction,” Bruno observed huskily. “That’s hardly surprising… You’re so very tight… and much hotter than I was expecting!”

Moth gave a breathless chuckle. “Glad ye think I’m ‘ot, antlers!”

“Well you are… but literally, as well as figuratively!”

“Oh aye?”

“And so, so wet… oh yes, I can feel you squeezing me, that’s… that’s so nice…”

Bruno rolled his hips, pressing his length deeper into Moth, and felt her quiver and tremble beneath him. The heavy, sulphurous musk of her arousal filled the humid air between their bodies, overwhelming the softer, leather-and-loam scent of his own body, and she ground upwards onto him, pulling him deeper and deeper, until his pubic pad pressed to hers. His stiffness pulsed within her, and then he pulled back a few dewclaws, and shoved it in firmly. Moth yapped and hunched. He thrust again. And again. Each slow, heavy plunge of his hips drew forth a breathy grunt, and Bruno could immediately feel her accumulated fluid oozing out around him, accompanied by a sharp strengthening of her scent. He felt her deliberately squeeze around him every time he pushed inward, and gazed down at her.

“Tell me if it’s too much…” Bruno grunted.

In response, to his surprise, the vixen wriggled a slender hand between their bodies. Bruno’s eyes met hers, and he smirked when she began to masturbate.

“Too much, me arse. Bein’ more’n me ‘usband ain’t difficult, antlers. ’Ope it’s alright if I …” she gasped. “Need ta cum again…”

Bruno groaned heatedly and began to thrust faster. Moth’s mouth fell open in lust and her eyes fluttered closed.

“Oh yes… cum as much as you want to… Not many women are confident enough to supplement a man’s cock with their own fingers, it seems to dent a lot of men’s egos!” Bruno said.

“Aye, th… that’s th’truth of it! Me ‘usband’s like that too, if it ain’t about ‘im, ‘e ain’t int’rested…”

Moth grit her teeth and looped her free arm over Bruno’s neck, pulling the elk down over her to kiss him again. Their breath, hot and fast and shallow, mingled between them, and within moments, Bruno felt the vixen tense up and tighten yet further around him. Her hand fluttered between their bellies, rubbing her clitoris rapidly in flurries of urgent strokes, and Bruno felt a deep throb inside himself and knew he was oozing precum into her.

“Keep going…” Bruno mouthed at her. “Fuck you smell incredible… it gets so much stronger when you’re leaking like you are… keep going, cum around my cock…”

Moth hunched and tensed and rubbed herself faster. Bruno trembled. He felt her throb, and started to thrust into her rhythmically, matching his speed to half the pace of her masturbation. Moth’s second climax came on with a rush of rhythmic pulses of her vagina around his thrusting cock, and Bruno felt white hot pleasure burning inside him threatening to spill over. He held himself very still while she clenched and pulsed and rippled around him, flooding his cock with fresh heat. His balls ached. But it wasn’t time for him to cum, yet. He groaned in pleasure and pressed his snout into her neck, breathing her in deeply.

“Need me to pause?” the elk asked, as Moth’s climax tapered off.

“No, fucking don’t you dare stop…” Moth grated out.

Bruno chuckled, and obediently continued to grind into her, albeit slowly. Every motion of Bruno’s hips threatened to tip him over the edge. He ground into her very slowly at first.

“Surprised ye ‘aven’t blown a fawn up me yet,” Moth said. “That were close, eh?”

“Very… Two or three thrusts and I’d have finished. But I am not ready for it to be over yet…”

Moth whimpered happily. “Ye’re truly enjoyin’ me?”

Bruno pulled back from her, braced himself on his hands over her and gazed down into her golden eyes.

“Are you truly surprised that I am?” he returned. “Moth, you’re beautiful. You’re sensual. You’re filthy. You’re foul-mouthed and forward and ALL of those are things I fucking adore in a woman. Hammering my cock into your boiling cunt until I blast my jelly up you is high on my to-do list. But there’s more to you than that, isn’t there?”

Moth seemed to process that for a long moment, with surprise on her dark-furred face. Even as he spoke, Bruno continued to move inside her, and within moments Moth was gyrating up onto him again.

“What of your husband?” Bruno prompted her. “You’ve mentioned him a few times. Do you have a very open relationship?”

Moth snorted and rolled her eyes at him. “Oh come now, ye don’t wanna ‘ear about ‘im do ya?”

“Not only him. I want to hear about you, Moth. Beyond a fleeting encounter.”

“Aye, well. This’ll be a new one, tellin’ me life story while I’m bein’ fucked!”

Bruno grinned and playfully teased over one of her uppermost nipples, causing Moth to gasp and clench around him. “I’m all ears,” the elk said.

“Ye’re mostly antlers and cock!” she laughed. “Fine. Hrrm. Well me name comes from me pa’s work, o’course. Born in a wee village a couple days north, on top’o th’ cliffs. Big ol’ seam o’ coal there, mined from th’sea at low tide. Pa were a collier, an’ his pa before ‘im. But sea-coal’s dirty shit, burns like arse. Smoky an’ salty. It’s banned in most cities. Everyone in th’village ‘as a nasty cough all th’time from it. Still, s’pose the stink o’ sea-coal meant most folks cannae smell a fox’s stink!”

“Their loss, I’d say,” Bruno said silkily.

“Ye fuckin’ pervert!” Moth snorted. “Anyways. Me ‘usband’s an Arahanic priest, same as ‘is pa were. They let ‘em marry an’ ‘ave kits, unlike the monks. Gotta make some concessions, I s’pose.”

“Else no one would become a priest,” Bruno said.

“Jus’ so. Me marriage to Larch were arranged, we both knew it from when we was wee kits. ‘E’s a silver fox like me. Both our families came ta Stillwater Cove when me an’ Larch was young. Cleaner air an’ a better priory, Larch’s pa fought ta be moved. We jus’ followed ‘cos I were promised ta marry Larch when we came of age.”

“Arahanic marriage, to an Arahanic priest… and look where you are,” Bruno said curiously, grinding deep into her body to illustrate his point. “What happened?”

“Oh aye, Arahanic marriage is absolute, an’ monogamous… hoh fuck, do that again! …Til death, an’ all that shit. ‘Cept fer the fact that Larch don’t give a single shit about that! ‘E were fuckin’ around ‘is whole life. Includin’ wi’ me! I were pregnant when we was married, an’ ‘ad ‘is daughter three months later. We’d been ‘umpin’ fer years already, since before ‘is balls dropped. All through ‘is ordination an’ Arhanic trainin’ in th’priory, ‘is balls were never full. I jus’ forced ‘im not ta fuckin’ knot me, much as ‘e were desperate fer it.”

Bruno grinned. “Keep going…” he said.

“Even the very day ‘e were accepted ta the priesthood, ‘is balls were drained,” Moth continued, with a toothy and mischievous grin. “An’ I were in the church with ‘is slime in me belly fur, where ‘e’d pulled it out an’ spat it up me while I ‘eld ‘is knot in me ‘and.”

Bruno exhaled shakily over her face, and he slipped a hand down to trace his fingertips along her lower tummy, between her ephemeral lower breasts.

“Right here?” he mumbled, teasing his fingers across her nipples again.

“Thas right… Heh, I ‘eld ‘is knot an’ teased ‘is tip across me nipple while ‘e squirted, it made me so fuckin’ wet.”

Bruno grunted and thrust slow and deep into her, and slipped that hand from her tummy beneath her, to grip a handful of her arse and hold her hips up into his groin.

“Oh ye like that?” she chuckled. “I found out I were pregnant a few months later, an’ so we ‘ad to speed up our marriage so Pepper, me daughter, wouldn’t be born outta wedlock. ‘E were ‘appy wi’ that o’ course, because it meant ‘e could finally fuckin’ tie me and squirt ‘is jelly up me properly. Which ‘e did. A lot. But ‘e were always full o’ guilt about it, th’way those fuckin’ Arahanites teach it ta be a sin. I found out then that ‘e was gettin’ it elsewhere as often as I used ta give it to ‘im! So, while ‘e were outta town fer months on end sometimes, I did th’same!”

“Did he ever find out?”

“Oh aye, eventually ‘e did, when Pepper were about ten. Oh, ‘ow ‘e raged! ‘E was always a delicate ego, needed ta feel important, y’know? Like yer boy’s friend Sammael, the wee cunt. Gets all snarly an’ mean when ‘e thinks ‘e ain’t the most important man in th’world.”

“Are you still married?”

“Oh aye, ‘til death! An’ ‘e’s still alive, so we’re married! Th’first few times ‘e caught me wi’ another man I felt bad, but remembered ‘ow much ‘e fucked around and y’know, in time, we kinda… came to an arrangement. ‘E’d tell me who he were fuckin, and when, and I’d tell ‘im too. ‘Cept I always lied about the size of the men’s cocks – Larch is delicate about ‘is size, y’know. I genuinely like it, he’s got a good knot an’ ‘e fucks like a bucking mule! ‘E’s cut, o’course, bein Arahanic. Like you. ‘Cept for Lupa they cut the sheath off. Only ‘is knot’s ever covered in by it.”

Bruno’s ears must have perked, because Moth gave him a quizzical look.

“Huh, interesting. I know a wolf who’s had an Arahanic cut like that. He’s a courtesan here at the Fig, and is the man Sammael is so jealous of… he and my son are most definitely a romantic pairing.”

Moth purred hornily and clenched around Bruno. He flexed back inside her, and pushed himself deep, grinding heavily into her burning core.

“Mmmh… yeah… I like Arahanic men fer ‘ow ‘ard they fuck… ye get yer boys trimmed too, antlers?”

Bruno spluttered and laughed softly, shakily given that he was mid-thrust as Moth spoke.

“Ah! Hah, well. Uh, well yes, both my twins are cut. But we’re not Arahanites. Monogamy and marriage is all well and good, if you’re into that I suppose. I’m not. Arahanism doesn’t offer anything worth having, far as I’m concerned – it’s just Ysionic worship but prudish!”

Moth barked with laughter. “Aye, ain’t that the truth! All guilt an’ shame an’ shit! So why’d you and yer boys get cut, if y’ain’t Arahanites?”

“Me? I was born in an Arahanic priory hospital and they just did it without asking my parents. I wasn’t going to get Dieter and Kristian cut, but they needed to get theirs done anyway because of how tight their skin was. Kristian’s been… troubled by it, lately, thanks to Sammael being indelicate about it. Sam’s got a fetish about it, likes to get off on how much more sensitive he is than Kristian.”

Moth snorted and rocked her hips onto Bruno casually, clenching around his base when he pushed in deep with a quiet grunt. “Oh aye. An’ what of their mother? Ye’ve not mentioned ‘er!”

“That’s because I don’t know her, and nor do they,” Bruno said. “Dieter and Kristian aren’t my sons, they’re my nephews. I just raised them as sons. My brother’s their father, but he’s… complicated.”

“Mmhm… oh… so this fat fuckin’ fawn-maker ye’re shovin’ up me cunt ‘asn’t actually ever made a fawn?” Moth proposed.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Bruno grinned. “I prefer to shoot my jelly up a partner without needing to worry about that – and it’s better for them too, as you surely know… to be able to fuck freely without any risk of an unexpected kit…”

Moth groaned heatedly and slipped her hand down to rub herself again, and Bruno sped up his thrusts to match her once more. His breathing became hoarse and shaky within moments, and Moth was nowhere near cumming when the elk had to finally pause as he edged inside her.

“Oh fuck me, that’s fuckin’ good… ye nearly shot a fawn up me stinkin’ fox cunt then, didn’t ya!”

“Aye… still nearly there…” Bruno said through gritted teeth.

“Are ye imaginin’ fatherin’ a fawn by someone, ye pervert?”

“No, I’m… imagining you holding Larch’s knot and yanking him out of you just as he starts to cum, denying him the pleasure of feeling your orgasm on his cock… A pleasure I’ve felt twice… and soon to be three times…”

Moth gave a strangled moan and orgasmed immediately. Her body convulsed and shuddered, and Bruno thrust powerfully into her spasming cunt while she came, and edged himself inside her again, so close that he abruptly yanked his cock out of her and held his body rigid over her, while his wet, glistening rod pulsed and oozed a thick drool of semen onto the back of Moth’s masturbating hand. She stared down at it. Her dense, cloying stink clung to him, and he had meant every word he said to her – her arousal was a thing of beauty to him, and her coarseness only made her more appealing. Her dark, black and silver fur was beautiful, especially with the sharp contrast of pure white at the tip of her brush, in her ears, her chin, and between her legs around her distinctly vulpine genitals.

“Oh fuck… yer ‘ead’s as thick as me ‘usband’s knot… and ye leak more’n ‘e cums!” she said, moving her hand from her spade to curl it around Bruno’s slickened, fox-stinking cock.

She pushed her fingers backward over his scar, then milked them forward along the soft strip of his urethra, squeezing out a long, thick string of the elk’s pre-orgasm semen directly onto her swollen, puffy vulva. Something about her intonation caught in Bruno’s mind, but he was too aroused to pay it all that much attention – until suddenly he heard something from behind him.

He suddenly stiffened, and turned to stare at the curtain that covered the entrance to the space he shared with Moth. A scuffle, a gasp. A grunt, the sound of claws on floorboards, and a telltale bulge in the curtain that spoke of someone on the other side of it.

Bruno’s balls ached with the release he’d been denying himself for the whole evening, going back as far as the first time Moth had expressed an obvious desire for him in the Hairy Fig’s privy. But he stood up, and Moth growled.

“What?” Moth asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Thought I heard something.”

*

Moth exhaled with a hiss of frustration between her teeth. She’d been mid-orgasm when he pulled out, and it had unsettled her climax. She was breathless and sticky, but couldn’t help but lick his seed off the back of her hand when he stood and stepped towards the curtain.

“We’re in Dytaea’s fuckin’ ‘arem, o’course ye ‘eard something,” Moth said irritably. “Get back ‘ere!”

Bruno narrowed his eyes slightly and stared at her long and hard. He was listening carefully, and his nostrils twitched. She dropped her gaze to his stiff, wet cock, and licked her lips. He turned back towards her, and she felt a frisson of trepidation. Surely, this would be it. He’d react poorly, reject any further contact, and leave. Instead, he put on a performatively loud voice.

“Very well, then I shall go right back to fucking my rigid, cum-soaked rod into your burning, married cunt then, shall I?” the elk said.

Moth hissed. She leapt up, grabbed his mane and yanked him down over her. “What are ye doin?!” she demanded, staring into his eyes.

“What, did you think I wouldn’t notice we had an audience?” Bruno said to her, very quietly. “Is it him? Is it Larch?”

Moth’s ears flattened and she felt her heart sink. “Aye. Aye, it is. Ye’re a canny one,” she replied, equally quietly. That’ll ruin it…

Bruno grinned widely. “What does he like to see?”

Moth’s hackles rose in surprise and her mind went blank for a moment. “I… turn me over an’ fuck me facin’ the curtain, an’ when ye cum, pull out an’ shoot yer jelly up me body… ‘e’s on th’other side o’ the curtain watchin. ‘E always is. S’the only way ‘e likes it.”

“How did he know we’d be in here? We could have gone anywhere!” Bruno said.

Moth squirmed and shrugged. “’E follows me about, ‘idin’ in th’shadows.”

“Ahh, very priestly of him,” Bruno chuckled. “Does he enjoy being talked about? Compared to?”

Moth grinned mischievously. “No, ‘e ‘ates that. Y’know, he’s not got a big one, an’ ‘e’s very delicate about that…”

“So knowing that you’ve told me so much about him…”

“Oh I bet ‘e’s bitin’ ‘is lip back there, desperate ta bust in ‘ere. But ‘e won’t. ‘E knows if ‘e does, I’ll break ‘is little secret out to the prior…”

While they whispered together, Bruno and Moth subtly moved until they were in the position Moth had described, with their heads facing the heavy curtain across the entrance of their little nook. Moth could clearly see that it was not quite entirely covering the entrance, and with her privileged knowledge of who was there, she flashed a cheeky grin at the curtain, while Bruno studiously ignored it and instead focused on her. They were performing now, as much for their voyeur as for one another.

“Now ye’ve calmed down a bit, ya fuckin’ pervert, why don’tcha make good on yer promise and fuck that fucking fawn-maker into me cunt?” Moth intoned. “C’mon, give it to me good…”

“Ysion’s balls, Moth… you’re so desperate for it, so hot and wet and needy to feel a free pagan’s cock in this tight little cunt that’s the property of your husband…” Bruno returned in his deep baritone.

Performance aside, Moth couldn’t disguise her intense arousal at the scenario – knowing they were being watched, and how forbidden their sex was in the eyes of the church. The elk allowed her to guide him back into her again, and she moaned loudly when he thrust forward once again, burying his rod into her core and eliciting a pleasured bark from her. She clamped her legs around his hips, and he kissed her urgently, roughly, while he bucked and thrust his hips into her much smaller body, rocking her closer and closer to the curtain. He seemed to edge again very rapidly, and his thrusts faltered and paused, to Moth’s frustration. She shoved her hand between their bodies and started to masturbate again, and immediately felt the white hot kernel of pleasure it brought on. She brought herself to climax yet again around his cock, and felt him quiver and tense and shiver inside her, throbbing hard. She’d had enough of his self-denial.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck! YES! Do it! Fuck me!” she cried, tilting her head back in genuine pleasure.

She could feel him losing control. He wouldn’t be able to stop this time. His heavy balls slapped wetly against Moth’s arse, and he abruptly hooked his hands behind her knees, pinning her legs up by her shoulders. She yapped and barked in pleasure, and Bruno gurgled out a barely discernible warning of his impending climax. His thrusts grew ragged and aggressive, fast and desperate, pushing towards that edge that had become elusive for having been denied so often.

“Clench on me, Moth! Squeeze it!” he grated out.

Moth’s ears pricked up and she sucked in a sharp breath at his tone. But she eagerly obeyed, clenching her inner muscles down as hard as she could around him. He immediately groaned in lust and hammered his hips roughly into her… seven, eight, nine more times… then tilted his antlered head up and stared right at the curtain.

“I’m going to cum!” he growled.

He deliberately held himself inside her as the first drool and spurt of his ejaculation came, while she fumbled and yapped and finally managed to pull him out of her. His cock sprang out mid-ejaculation and she urgently stroked him with both her hands. He reared up and thrust powerfully along her belly, firing thick, heavy ropes of seed that at first sailed clear over her shoulder, then painted her chin and chest, and her slender waist.

“Aw fuck! Ye cum like a fuckin’ stallion! Ye got it up me too, ya fuckin’ pervert!” Moth growled while she tugged him off through his orgasm, smearing the head of his cock through her sticky fur and staring directly at his cock.

And suddenly, while Bruno was still mid-ejaculation, their voyeur made himself known. There was a loud clatter and a muffled curse, and then a vulpine yap and a thump as Larch Seacoal fell off the chair he’d been sitting on beyond the curtain into the room, landing on his knees over Moth’s head, face to face with Bruno even as the elk’s orgasm continued.

Larch was a slender, greying silver fox, whose dark fur was complemented by his heavy black Arahanic priest’s robe, buttoned from collar to fetlock. He had a look of abject shock and terror on his face, his golden yellow eyes wide as he stared into the chestnut orbs of the elk who’d spent the past hour balls-deep in his wife. But it wasn’t only the horror at having been discovered. It was something else. Moth saw her husband’s eye fall to Bruno’s cock and the mess it had made of her, and knew that he was teetering on the brink of climaxing inside his robe at the sight. She’d seen it often enough to recognise the signs, after all. Larch grit his teeth, and groaned softly under his tongue. His body was tense, but when he forced himself to look away, he visibly relaxed.

Bruno thrust weakly through Moth’s grip while she milked him until his orgasm passed, then he gave Larch a filthy grin.

“Did you enjoy the show?” the elk quipped. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word. I know how fucked in the head you Arahanites can be. All that sin and denial and purity addles your brains. Makes you crave what is forbidden…”

As he spoke, Bruno settled back onto his knees, and offered his hand to Moth, who took it and hauled herself up to sit back against a cushion, and surveyed the gooey mess that covered much of her torso. Bruno’s seed was ample, no doubt about that. Most of her lower abdomen was soaked with it, and several thick, heavy ropes streaked all the way up to her throat. The last dull throbs of her third (or was it fourth…?) orgasm rippled through her body, and she clenched, feeling gooery heat inside her as well. Moth smirked at her husband.

“’E’s got ye by the balls there, Larch,” she laughed. “Oh don’t look so pathetic. Larch, this is Bruno. ‘E’s an equal-opportuni’y fucker, ain’t ya, antlers?”

“As equal as I can be,” Bruno said smoothly, holding out an enormous hand to Larch in greeting. The priest refused to shake it.

Moth shuffled towards her husband on her knees to where he knelt, and unceremoniously unfastened a few buttons of his priestly robe, over his crotch.

Larch barked and recoiled from her, swatting her hands away. “Don’t do that!” he said, his voice nasal and plaintive.

“What’s the matter, don’t want me ta milk yer kits outta yer knot, ‘usband? More to th’point, I don’t want to ‘ave to wash yer fucken robes again if ye squirt a kit up th’inside o’ the bastard thing!” She turned to Bruno. “Y’got any idea ‘ow ‘ard it is t’wash felted wool? Fucken daft shit t’make a priest’s robe out of!”

Larch whimpered and seemed to slowly cave in to the notion of being exposed. Moth knew full well just how much her husband was turned on by it – his resistance was entirely performative, rooted in religious notions of purity and sexual denial. Usually in situations where he was perving on her, he remained hidden throughout, in a closet or peering through a peep-hole previously scouted by Moth for precisely that purpose. But she’d had no control over which of the booths in Dytaea’s Harem they’d be taken to, so had needed to improvise – her generous tip to the Harem attendant had been to pay for her to provide Larch with a chair and facilitate his perversion with as much privacy as she could afford him.

She winked at Larch, and deftly opened a couple more of the buttons on his robe. His breath was shaky, and she saw his fists clench hard at his sides when she finally pulled the cloth aside to expose him, only to herself at first.

“Oh thank fuck, ye ‘aven’t blown a kit yet!” she said with a coarse laugh.

Larch hissed through his teeth and looked away from Moth as she tugged his robe open over his crotch. He was fully erect with his partially circumcised sheath retracted behind his swollen, shiny vulpine knot. Bruno peered at it curiously over Moth’s shoulder. He was indeed not large. Perhaps four dewclaws, including his knot. His knot was shiny and bright red, clearly sensitive, while most of his shaft, by contrast, was a paler pink, somewhat dull and significantly rougher in texture. Moth was, of course, intimately familiar with it.

“Cute,” the elk observed, with a smirk.

“What in Arahan’s name is wrong with you, you disgusting pervert?!” Larch snapped.

“Now now, no need for that tone,” Bruno returned calmly.

The elk moved to the curtain, where he fetched Larch’s chair and dragged it inside.

“Now, what are we to do with a voyeur?” Bruno mused, smirking at Moth.

“Mm. I think ‘e needs ta ‘ave a proper lesson in ‘ow to treat ‘is woman, don’tcha think? Without all that priestly shit in the way,” Moth mused.

“I agree,” Bruno returned.

The elk slipped his hands under Larch’s armpits and easily hoisted the priest upright. Then he stood behind Larch, and slid his hands down the front of his robe, unbuttoning it as he went. Moth unbuttoned it from the bottom up. Soon, they met in the middle, and Bruno pulled the fox’s priestly robe off over his shoulders and down his arms. Larch was nude beneath it, and Bruno laughed.

“I always wondered if priests wore anything under these,” he said.

“Most of ‘em do!” Moth interjected, with a smirk.

“But not your husband.”

“Naw, ‘e’s a fuckin’ pervert, jus’ like you, antlers.”

Larch’s tiny penis flexed and throbbed visibly, and issued forth a thin, watery shot of precum that streaked onto Moth’s cheek. Moth fondled his tight, fuzzy balls, gave her husband’s knot a single, momentary squeeze that made him gasp and convulse, and then stood up. She shoved him unceremoniously into his chair, and turned her back on him, gazing back over her shoulder at the two men. Then she very deliberately looked past her husband to the enormous elk standing behind him.

“Why don’tcha c’mere, antlers? I’m all covered in pervert elk slime and no way ta clean meself up!”

Bruno chuckled. “I should be honoured, my lady,” he said.

“The bathhouse is downstairs!” Larch interjected imperiously.

“An’ what, ye’ll ‘ave yer own wife strut through this place in this state?!”

“You have done far worse!”

“Oh have you?” Bruno said with amusement.

“SHUT it, you!” Larch snarled.

“Ooh, you’re right, he is mean,” Bruno said to Moth.

“Aye, but ‘e’s such a fuckin’ ‘orny little prick ‘e’s easy to ‘andle. All’s I’d ‘ave to do is ‘old ‘is knot fer a moment or two and ‘e’d be mine…”

Larch whimpered in lust and clenched his fists at his sides, gritting his teeth and flexing his stiff penis urgently.

“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten… it’s a grave sin in Arahanism to pleasure yourself, isn’t it Larch?” Bruno teased him.

“Fuck you…” Larch snarled.

“Bet you’re desperate for it though. You’ve been sitting out there rock hard in your robe watching all of this… How long’s it been since you fucked your own wife?”

“S’been fuckin’ weeks, Bruno. And even then, ‘e weren’t really into it ‘cause ‘e’d jus’ got ‘ome from fuckin’ one o’ ‘is other ‘friends,’ ain’t that right dearest?”

“Oh ho ho, couldn’t perform for your own wife because of your own promiscuity?” Bruno smirked, stepping around from behind Larch and advancing on Moth.

Moth calmly fondled the elk’s flaccid cock and heavy balls, and mouthed at his pierced nipple.

Larch snapped his teeth and huffed impotently. “If a single word of this gets out I will…”

“You’ll what, priest?” Bruno said. “Pontificate at us? Wave your book around? Come now. You’re a leading example of how pointless all your preaching is, about purity and monogamy. I’ve got respect for your faith, to a level, but you can hardly move in the Hairy Fig without seeing Arahanites. Surely you’d all be much better off if you just accepted that your animal instincts are alive and well…”

Moth snorted with laugher. “Aye, that’ll be th’fuckin’ day, won’t it?!”

Bruno grinned, and Moth felt his arm slide around her body, pulling her against him. “Don’t worry. Your dirty little secrets are safe with me. Especially the one where you get off on watching the perverts who fuck your wife clean their own filthy indiscretion out of every last bit of her fur with their tongues…”

Larch’s eyes widened. Moth knew he’d hit a button, though, because the fox priest’s cock stiffened yet further, and emitted another thin jet of precum. Moth purred in fresh arousal.

“Oh I like that… So does ‘e, eh? And… I ain’t th’only one ‘ere covered in filth…” She lifted Bruno’s cock in her hand and waggled it at her husband. “’E stinks like me…”

Larch whimpered and Moth saw his abdomen tense and his legs tremble.

“Should we tie his wrists to absolve him of the temptation to sin?” Bruno teased.

“Naw, let ‘im suffer.”

Bruno laughed.

Moth drew back from the elk and laid herself back down over the nest of cushions, on her back. “C’mon then antlers, I ain’t goin’ nowhere until I’m cleaned up,” she said.

Her loins quivered as Bruno once more moved over her, and she playfully raked her claws down his chest. The elk gazed into her eyes, winked, and kissed her. Moth whined in surprised and kissed back, rolling her hips in empty air and grabbing for Bruno’s cock again. He wasn’t soft, but nor was he anywhere near hard enough to fuck her again.

Bruno laughed. “I’m not in rut, so if you want me to fuck you again, it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Moth’s eyes narrowed. “Coulda fooled me, ye ‘orny cunt-aniffin’ pervert!” she said coarsely.

“You should come and see me next time I am in rut…” Bruno quipped.

“You better fuckin’ believe I will!” Moth said enthusiastically.

She gasped quietly when Bruno’s tongue began to groom her fur, capturing each thick streak of the elk’s own seed and readily swallowing it down. He worked slowly and sensually down the side of Moth’s neck, causing her toes to curl and her mouth to fall open. Then his fuzzy lips brushed over her nipple, and she grabbed his head to hold him to it for longer. Her hips rolled and gyrated, her cunt throbbing yet again, while Bruno sucked firmly on her sensitive nub.

“What’s it like, antlers? When ye goes into rut?” she asked him thickly.

Bruno moved on down her body, finding another, and another patch of his emissions to suck clean. But his hands were not idle. As he moved, he continued to stimulate her nipples with his fingertips, and the vixen chittered in delight, her body twitching and jerking as his mouth tickled her. She glanced at Larch. He glared daggers at her, but was obediently watching in silence, with his hands clasped behind the backrest of his chair.

“You go into heat, don’t you?” Bruno began, between licks.

“Oh aye. Same as everyone else. Every month I get a cycle, but I’s only ‘ad a proper ‘eat twice. Ain’t that right, Larchy? Firs’ one when we was kits, second one gave us Pepper. ‘Aven’t ‘ad one that ‘ot since.”

“Huh, that was some time ago, wasn’t it?” Bruno mused, sucking firmly on one of her ephemeral belly nipples and causing her leg to spasm.

“Fuck! Pepper’s fourteen now, so yes!”

Bruno thought for a moment, pausing his journey to stare up at her. “You said earlier, that you forced him to pull out when you’d fuck before marriage… and Pepper was conceived before you married… So does that mean you’ve never had Larch’s knot inside you when you’ve been in heat?”

Moth’s eyes widened. “Ye’re fuckin’ right. Fuck!”

“Because… in the same way that would probably feel – just right, somehow, like you’ve stumbled across something deep in your mind, instinctive, ancient, urgent… that’s how rut feels. Rut is just there, for me. Every year, at least once. Sometimes it’s stronger than others, sure. Sometimes it can be quickened or even instigated entirely by a doe if she’s in heat and it’s strong enough. And with my sons living with me most of the time… things can get tense. Especially if all three of us go into rut at once, which happens.”

Moth’s eyes fluttered. “Oh, to visit ye when all o’ye are ruttin’…” she fantasised aloud.

Bruno’s tongue was working down Moth’s lower tummy by then, where the bulk of his seed had landed, and she rolled her hips towards him. His nose twitched and his breathing was noticeably shallower and faster at being so close to her vulva. She turned her head to seductively stare at her husband, and held onto Bruno’s velvety ears, arching her back and lifting her legs around his shoulders. Bruno’s tongue moved across her ephemeral nipples one after the other, plucking and teasing each as his mouth stimulated the other. Then he moved further down, over her densely furred pubic pad, and continued to speak.

“Rut is… well, when I’m in a strong rut, I have no refractory period. I can fuck over and over without pause. And even when I’m not fucking, the slightest provocation can make it feel like I’m about to cum. It’s a glorious feeling. To be constantly so aroused and so ready. I also leak constantly when I’m in rut, the few drops you’ve seen me make tonight are nothing. In rut it’s a constant drool, even more than you leak, Moth…”

Moth laughed sharply, then gasped. Bruno’s tongue ran across her vulva. She grabbed his antlers and shoved her hips into his face, and felt him lick wetly across her spade, even sucking on her gently. She shook and groaned, and suddenly, the noise of a chair scraping the floor and falling with a crash interrupted their thoughts and conversation.

Bruno paused and looked up sharply.

Larch stood, and stumbled shakily towards them. Urgently, he knelt over Moth’s head and pushed his dripping cock along her cheek.

“Oh? Whas this, ‘usband? Ye cannae ‘old it back any longer?” Moth teased him.

Bruno resumed licking her, and she felt his tongue delve even deeper, pushing downward between her buttocks and across her backside. She sucked in a sharp breath and let it out as a whine, lifting her legs higher and locking them around the elk’s shoulders.

“Oh fuck, ‘e’s lickin’ me arse…” she moaned. “I ‘ope ye’re payin’ attention, Larch…”

“Fucking pervert…” Larch groaned huskily.

Bruno spared one hand momentarily to make a lewd gesture at the priest, but never faltered in his mission. The fox bared his teeth at the elk and snarled. Bruno ignored him utterly, and returned his attention to Moth’s vulva. This time, he brought his fingers to bear as well. Moth yapped in pleasure when she felt two of his thick digits press inside her, and his tongue continue to lap and flick across her clitoris.

“Lick me, wife…” Larch demanded.

Moth narrowed her eyes, and ground her hips roughly onto Bruno’s fingers and mouth. Teasingly, very delicately, she flicked her tongue over the dripping tip of Larch’s penis, and he clacked his teeth in frustration.

“Bruno,” Moth said.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Larch whimpered.

Moth cackled with glee. “Me ‘usband wants ‘is junk licked, too…”

Bruno slid upward over Moth, until his head was level with hers. Larch’s penis bucked and throbbed against her cheek, and Moth snapped her hands up to grab his buttocks when he went to pull away. The elk’s breath smelt of her sex, and she casually hooked her legs around his waist again, and felt him mostly hard against her, prodding at her vulva with his cock.

Bruno raked his thick fingers through Larch’s tummy fur, and teased a single finger around the hardened bulb at the root of his rigid penis.

“What were you saying, Moth? All you have to do is hold his knot for a few moments and he’s yours?”

Bruno slipped his fingers behind Larch’s engorged knot, and held it like it was a doorknob he was about to twist and open. His palm enclosed the rigid bulb, and he gently tugged on it. Immediately, Larch’s entire body tensed. His brush rose, and his back arched, and he humped powerfully into Bruno’s hand, sending rapid, thin jets of precum streaking up the elk’s forearm. Moth turned her head and dragged her tongue along the side of his cock, and Bruno did likewise on the other side. Their lips and tongues danced together around Larch’s cock, and the priest actually began to pray aloud for forgiveness.

Moth and Bruno held him steady, Moth with her hands on his arse, Bruno by holding his knot, and within moments, Larch’s hips began to give shallow and shaky thrusts, and the fox finally gave a breathy, whining purr. Moth felt his cock pulse and throb and knew he was about to ejaculate. She pulled away, and Bruno smoothly took her husband’s cock into his mouth, sucking firmly on it and sealing his lips behind his knot, while Larch pulsed out his seed over the elk’s tongue.

Larch looked like he’d just woken up from a fever dream. His orgasm passed rapidly, and he collapsed back onto his haunches, covering his face with his hands.

“See?” Moth cackled. “’E’s all calm an’ collected now! Now’s where the guilt sets in, ain’t it ‘usband?”

Bruno, to Larch’s obvious shock, embraced the fox priest and pulled him down to lie between himself and Moth. Moth pressed her back into her husband’s chest, and Bruno held them both from behind.

“Nothing to feel any guilt about, Larch. It’s all in good fun.”

Moth snickered. “Tonight, Bruno, ye’ve made three people cum, all o’ them quite different. Ye truly are an equal opportuni’y fucker!”

*