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Bare-Bucking

Tonight isn't like how it used to be.

Sure, when I caught his scent from across the bar my eyes lit up in recognition. And yes, we bridged the years after graduation in five minutes: him the dashing stud with a broad smile, me the fennec all coy looks under that soft tan fur.

But that timelessness was an easy delusion under the dim lights of happy hour. The darkness that made it easy enough to believe neither of us had changed a day. It lingered long enough for me to end up naked between him and his bedsheets. Even then, the gulf between us grew slowly.

"I didn't realise you were in town," Max groaned and buried his face deeper into the pillow.

I paused, tracing his tangled mane trailing over his shoulders. The words picked at my ears like a seam ripper: coarse, abrupt, and with enough edge to threaten to unravel everything.

"I live here!" I countered, shoving my muzzle back between his cheeks, robbing Max the ability to reply with anything other than a pleasured whinney.

He always went to pieces when I pleased him with my tongue. While it was still enjoyable for the both of us, I was glad that I could keep him quiet, keep him from ruining the moment, the memory. Yet despite my best efforts to relive our time in BlueBucks, the present crept in.

Do you live here?

Depending on who you asked, 'here' was or wasn't part of the city. Admitting where you lived was an easy giveaway that you weren't pulling the bucks in. If you couldn't walk home without directions on your phone, or if you had to take two to three plus buses to get back, or even a single tube connection, you weren't 'here'.

I'd already had three margaritas before I took the train with Max so I didn't know if I'd counted correctly. But the swanky, minimalist flat that lurked in the background of our fun made me certain he was more 'city' than me.

Back when we were students, we both came from the same place.

"I thought - you settled - up north?" Max panted in spite of my efforts, which kind of felt strangely insulting. Had I lost my touch?

I lifted my muzzle away and stared down at him: soft and tender, glistening in the dim light while a thin line of saliva trickled across his smooth taint.

Do you really want to do this now?

If he was so insistent, I might as well catch my breath and give a proper retort.

"I never liked snow," I sighed, shifting my position on the bed.

Surely Max remembered? Even if it was a fun novelty for me, living anywhere where it came thick and more than once a year wasn't practical with a tight heating budget.

Didn't he remember complaining how my room was always roasting hot (otherwise known as warm for a desert species)? More importantly, didn't he remember those times when he'd gather me up in his arms after we'd finished making love, and hold me close to keep my teeth from chattering when we slept?

"You always murmured about seeing snow again." Max rested his head back into the pillow, flicking his tail against his back to beg for more.

I grabbed my gin & tonic. Years ago I'd hated the stuff, but I found a tolerance for bitter things came with age.

I took a fortifying gulp and smacked my lips together, enjoying how the tang of quinine complimented the equine. It helped me push his reply out of my mind and focus on at least enjoying myself. It had been a surprisingly long time since I'd had any action, nevermind a pliant stallion who whinnied like a mare when he had his ass eaten.

But now I was only half interested - the memories of the past faded into the present. I felt him begin to grind his hips against the mattress, so I reached underneath him to help speed things up.

He'd grown slightly broader than I remembered so I had to stretch my arms around, but the rest was familiar - as was that telltale twitch before he came.

My appetite ruined, I aimed his climax away from me, and presumably, my side of the bed for the evening. The sound of his climax dripping from the sheets to the floor met my ears with as much disinterest as rain.

There wasn't much of an afterglow. Max was out, snoring away no less than five minutes after he'd shot his load, his embrace absent from my shoulders. At least the booze left me feeling not so cold for now.

I stayed up and finished my drink. The tang of the gin really was something, so I made a note on my phone to get hold of some. Then I got sidetracked and started flicking through old photos on my phone: our dorms, the triumph on our faces when we graduated, the belief that we'd both keep in touch.

I scrutinized that last photo, trying to see if there was any hint of love in it.

I turned over and watched Max's back as he snored away. His mane has grown shorter and thinner, while dark spots had crept into his neat palomino coat here and there. The more I looked, the more I noticed the deviation from my memories.

I rolled over and tried to surrender to my dreams, but the sheets were light and thin - nowhere near thick enough for anyone who felt the cold. It crept up underneath the sheets and kept me awake, alone, slowly sobering. This time there was no embrace for me to drift off into.

I stared at the alarm's red digits on the table. It seemed spiteful, flinging the seconds away. I considered turning it off, but a little bit of espionage wouldn't make time stand still, let alone turn it back.

***

I mulled over last night as consciousness crept back like a tide. I rolled over, my fur brushing against the silky sheets, enjoying the pleasant warmth that radiated from the stallion beside me, and the comforting rhythm of his breathing.

Without the booze it was clear that I was just being silly. Of course things would be different. Yet we still met up, still went home, and still got naked together.

That final fact caused my blood to run hot and pool in the usual places again. It was pleasant, depriving my brain of further oxygen and the vague hangover that lurked there.

Max was sleeping far too soundly. I ducked under the sheets, wiggling deeper until I lay head to hoof with him. I paused and admired his sloping flanks and strong legs. I could smell my scent on him from the night before, mixed with that of his climax. I shuffled closer and rested my head on his rump, then lifted back his silky tail.

I smiled and kissed him good morning.

"What a wake up call," Max murmured outside the sheets above me. I heard him chew his lip, trying, and failing, to hold back another of those signature whinnies.

"Much nicer than the alarm I'm sure." I teased him, pausing to watch his body quiver hungrily for me.

"Five more minutes." Max sighed and patted me on the butt like an alarm clock. His voice was husky, treading the fine line between last night's drinking and this morning's arousal.

Instead I gave him one last lick that made him shiver before emerging from underneath the covers.

"But it's a Saturday?" I asked, somewhat revelling at the opportunity to turn the tables and be the one asking the awkward questions during sex.

"I'm working overtime on a deadline."

Max avoided my eyes and lay on his side and scrolled through his phone. His back was like a wall. When I tried to shuffle closer to cuddle, he got up and opened the blinds, his palomino coat swimming in the morning's golden rays.

"I'd offer you breakfast," he went on, moving over to the walk-in kitchen. The marble tops probably added a couple of thousand to the value of the place. "But I wasn't planning on having guests around." Max shrugged, not at all embarrassed as he opened the empty fridge.

I got out of bed and inspected the barren contents of his face - the deeper furrow to his brow, the specks of grey fur underneath his chin. I hadn't noticed them last night, but in the crisp morning light it made him feel more like a stranger.

"That's okay," I smiled, disguising the subtle dip of my ears by drawing on my vulpine guile. "Last night was fun," I said, not daring to make it a question.

"It was nice," he agreed, pointing to where the shower was.

"I won't slow you down," I said, picking up my scattered clothes and tossing them on. They mostly smelt of the margaritas rather than my barely contained excitement as we took the train back last night.

"Thanks," he mumbled, shifting from hoof to hoof as he waited for me to leave. Max, like so many other horses, lacked the subtlety foxes are well known for.

I was proud about how I slipped away so cooly, pretending that I was happy with just the sex - that last night didn't at all mean anything more.

I even kept it together all the way down the elevator - not for myself, but for a vague sense of species pride.

***

I stalked onto the 404 bus and jammed my card against the paypoint. It beeped indignantly before finally accepting that I had just enough remaining in the overdraft for the fare. It didn't stop the other passengers staring, even as the machine spluttered out my ticket.

I scurried up to a seat at the back as the bus lurched forward, glaring at anyone who dared to judge me. I shouldn't be concerned with their opinions - as far as the rules went they weren't real 'city' folk either. And if they had to experience reality and take a bus like the rest of us, they too could deal with the smell of gay sex too. It probably would be the only shred of authenticity to slip past their stuck up noses for the day - a thought which made me regret that we'd never gone further.

I tucked my shoulders and leaned against the window while the world rolled by, watching in the reflection of grimey glass the city behind me. My indifference to the hustle and bustle faded only as it disappeared into the approaching rain. Then I just focused on the raindrops pattering against the glass, pausing only occasionally to glance at the scrolling text on the bus's overhead display.

Please keep tails and other personal appendages clear from the closing doors.

Irritatingly, it didn't announce the upcoming stops, forcing me to peer out the opening door and play detective. The whiff of diesel and particulates succeeded only in scouring away the scent of anything familiar, so I gave up and let featureless modernity float by.

Free of immediate distractions my thoughts turned back to Max. The palomino stallion appeared as I remembered - sleek, curvy, slender. But this one was gentle and coy, still filled with that giddy anticipation that came with that first intimate touch with another guy, his blue eyes bright and pure with delight. But as I stared closer at him in my daydream, they faded, becoming clouded, slow, and grey - like a mountain spring as it slowly snakes down towards the sea.

Before I could interpret my swirling feelings, I was jolted from my thoughts. I clutched my ears as the engine gave a shrill cry and then a pathetic wheeze, before the bus juddered to a halt. The passenger display flickered, then displayed a new message:

Please exit the vehicle. A replacement service will arrive shortly.

I groaned and banged my head against the window. The rain taunted me as it tapped away at the glass, seeming to laugh at my inability to escape it.

Of course I didn't have an umbrella.

Instead of disembarking I huddled closer to a mob of passengers by the driver's cab, hoping the weather would ease while they all talked over each other as the tired badger tried to give them answers. I waited until there was only me left.

"And you?" The badger sighed, pulling out a book from a compartment underneath the steering wheel.

"Tulse Close?"

The badger made a face and whistled - the 'sorry not my problem' tone. They set down their book on the dash and flicked their eyes down the schedule stuck against the door.

"Not for at least an hour, maybe an hour and a half." They shrugged and bit a claw. The bit of troublesome nail crunched in their teeth. "You could get there if you walked to Rodren and got a rail ticket to Corbet South? You'd be able to claim the fare back on the TFTC website."

"Can't they just accept my bus ticket?"

"They only do that for us when the trains break down. If you fill out the compensation form the money should be with you in 5-7 working days." They sighed, as powerless as the rest of us.

"Thanks," I sighed, dragging my paws as I shuffled towards the doors, regretting that I'd blown the budget on drinks last night.

"Can't I just wait on the bus?" I asked hopefully, hovering by the open doors as the falling raindrops splashed my paws.

"Health and safety would hide me." They grunted, returning to their book. From the badger's facial expression they understood the hypocrisy: how did it have anything to do with that when they still remained in that warm, dry cab. "And yet, I've got to wait here and protect the company assets until the engineer arrives." They shook their head. "I'd love to help, but even if they get me running I'll only be taking it back to the depot."

Their eyes flicked up from the pages. "Sorry, but it's probably for the best that you start walking."

I sighed and stepped into the cold shower. I kept my head down and headed towards the station, hoping that perhaps some rail guard would take pity and wave a soggy looking fox through the barriers.

At least that meant the rain helped my predicament, but it didn't need to take such delight in it. It only became more intense - lashing down in a determined effort to soak my thin desert fur all the way through. Within less than a minute I was absolutely sodden - my exposed fur stuck against my skin like a wet towel, the cold seeping into my skin and bones.

Fuck this.

I ran along the blurry, gray streets, trying to find some cafe or shop that wouldn't notice someone abusing their hand driers.

And if it was a BlueBucks, even better!

A stronger buffet of rain took away any choice I might have made. Paws splashing through the deep puddles, I rushed towards the nearest glimmer of hope - the lit up sign of a neat little espresso bar in the basement of an old terrace, aptly named UnderGround.

I stumbled through the door, standing there dripping on the custom welcome mat, vainly trying to wipe a clump of wet fur from my eyes.

"Stay there!" The barista snapped. A pang of fear shot through me and I gave a pathetic whine - please don't throw me out.

"Hold on - I'm just grabbing you a towel."

I watched as the stag bent behind the counter and tossed a couple of rags my way. I didn't even hesitate to use them, despite their strong smell of coffee.

"Sorry, that's all I've got," he continued. "We use them to wipe down the machine, so you may smell of the beans for a bit." The deer sniffed, watching me from behind the counter.

"That's fine," I mumbled, frantically patting myself down so I wouldn't add to the puddle at my feet. Once the drops slowed, I began to take my time, inspecting this kind business owner as I did so.

From the looks of it he was quite filled out underneath his fur: nice broad shoulders but still sleek and athletic, and a good height to him even when discounting the mature rack on his head. His intelligent green eyes shifted here and there as he went about his work, the sharp focus smoothed out by their half-distance glaze. It was as if he had one hoof in this world, and the other somewhere else entirely.

I had to admit, I always quite liked a dreamer.

I kept on looking. His sleek russet coat seemed filled with many colours. Depending on the light and the way he leant, the delicate hairs shimmered like beaten bronze - then like copper or gold depending on where the shadows lay. And that wasn't to say it was the only reason why I admired him. It was a delightful game to watch him go about his work, observing those skinny jeans and that slim fit shirt stretch and bulge around his frame, each time offering a tantalizing glimpse of what lay underneath. The neat little name badge he wore too, 'Logan', was a bonus too.

After the failure of last night, it kind of got me thinking...

"Thanks again," I said, trying to catch Logan's attention. "It actually smells quite nice," I admitted, feeling a blush spread underneath my fur.

You know about that wet dog smell? Well, wet desert fox isn't better, so I'd take smelling like spilled coffee any day. And it'd certainly obliterate any trace of last night.

I finished wiping myself down quickly. Fortunately I didn't seem to be as bad as I thought. My jacket and jeans had taken the brunt of the weather, but the rest of my clothes were largely dry.

"If you give me your coat, I can hang it out back next to the roaster," the stag replied, holding out a hoofed hand.

"Thanks," I repeated, eyes flickering through the menu on the wall behind him while he dealt with my clothes.

"So what can I get you? Something to warm you up on a rainy day?" he asked upon returning, leaning down on the counter so his antlers didn't get in the way.

"Oh, ah, sorry... can I just get tap water?"

The deer frowned.

"You sure you don't want a hot drink?"

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I'm already through my overdraft."

"We do have a gift coffee scheme if you need it." Logan nodded, pausing without showing any judgement. "Perfect for a rainy day." He waited, flicking his ears.

"Honestly, I'm fine. Save it for someone else who needs it more. My bus broke down and I got caught in a shower. That's all."

The deer frowned, his nostrils twitching slightly. I was sure the rain and the coffee-scented towels had dealt with the scent of last night... right?

"Fine." Logan flicked his ears dismissively and stepped off, hooves clicking softly against the floor as he walked over to the sink. The white nub of his tail bobbed through the tail-loop in his jeans like a small bird. He handed me the glass before busying himself with something behind the counters.

I thanked him and walked over to a small window booth, fashioned out of bits of old bookshelves and ancient looking couches. The place definitely had that bohemian vibe to it, dressed up with just enough smart veneer here and there to make it not so shabby. I guess that explained the name badge, but I didn't find it entirely distasteful. At least I could plead with him by name when it came to him throwing me because I'd gone without paying for too long.

My mind, of course, took the lull in action to mull things over again, sifting through the fragments of memory in a vain attempt to figure out where last night went wrong. Then the current started to shift focus, blurring the distinctions between the past and the present - even though my situation wasn't even remotely similar to the moment with Max at BlueBucks. I tried to pick it apart, but the clack of approaching hooves sent the thought scurrying back into my subconscious.

"One flat white," Logan announced triumphantly, setting the neat white cup in front of me with a soft clatter. He'd even added a cute little deer-shaped biscuit on the saucer too.

I took a deep breath.

"You didn't have to."

He didn't move off, so I changed the topic.

"It's a pretty neat place you've got here."

"Thanks. Built it up myself from the ground too."

"Must have been a grind," I quipped, flashing a grateful smile.

"Oh, yeah. Several of those chains have tried to muscle into the area, but thankfully no one is selling vacant plots."

"Thanks to loyal customers and a supportive community I'd imagine?"

"That's a nice thought." He chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "It's more that if one of those cheap chains were to set up here, it'd affect house prices." He shrugged, tossing his head from side to side. "It'd probably make more sense to sell this place to a developer than to stay."

"Why not?" I folded my ears back, puzzled. He'd be able to make a quick - and sizeable - buck.

"I quite enjoy earning the fruits of my labour." He smiled as I took a sip of his drink, enjoying how I couldn't help but widen my eyes.

Fuck me it was good.

I smacked my lips together and blinked rapidly, almost feeling the zing as it shot through me.

"So... you're doing well enough for you to hand out coffee for free?" I raised an eyebrow and looked around the empty shop.

"Usually people don't question kindness."

I caught myself tracing the intricate branches of his rack as I sipped away, admiring how fit he must be to grow a set like that every year.

"Besides," Logan continued, "the rush is in the mornings, sometimes evenings. All those people going in and out of the city need a good pick me up from their commuting troubles."

"If the buses break down that often, no wonder they need an espresso," I smiled.

"I don't know how they hack it, but I guess I should feel good that it helps them get through the day." He returned my smile and got back up, returning to the machine. He still kept an ear trained on me as he went through his tasks, carefully handling it as he disassembled and cleaned each part.

I tried to look out the window and focus on how on earth I was going to get home, but my eyes didn't keep to the grey skies for long. Instead they ran up and down the deer slyly, hoping to decipher what lay behind that all-concealing, form fitting apron. Even now, the finer flecks of his physicality struck me like fine spots of light: the cute, curly locks of his hair, the deep, meaningful wells behind his pupils, and those slender arms that sloped from weightless shoulders.

I tried to smother such thoughts. More likely I was on the rebound, or just pent up. Why was I taking some ordinary kindness this way - because the rest of the city is so cold? Or is coffee just some sort of aphrodisiac for me?

And yet I kinda just wanted to rebel against all those thoughts. I wanted that giddy, carefree surrender that came as you fell into something new - something I felt in that moment five years ago. I felt those thoughts scratching at the surface from deep down in my subconscious, until they broke through. The whole failure of last night seemed so clear now after a shot of caffeine: futility was resurrecting the past. Therefore, that only left the present, and the alluring promise of the new...

I stood up and brought my cup over, trying to disguise the nervous rattle as the cup and saucer clattered together. After a second to think, it seemed silly to trust a hunch, but I felt it fill me with hope that it'd somehow break the deadlock in me.

"So... thanks again for the coffee," I began, trying to get Logan's attention - and figure out his intentions. "And sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to be rude or ungrateful... I'm not usually so grumpy."

"Who is when their fur is wet? And courtesy of TFTC too." Logan replied from behind the coffee machine.

"True," I smiled, thinking of a way to cut through the customer service pleasantries. "That was amazing though. How did you end up learning? I'm sure there's more to it than grinding beans."

"If you're asking for another one, I'd love to but-"

"I'm not. Honest." I shuffled around the counter so I could see him, hands buried my pockets to stop them fidgeting. "I've still got time until the replacement bus, and..." I winced and tried to settle on the line.

And I've never had the undivided attention of a master?

Too cringe.

And I'd like to think it's the quiet desire of a craft you're determined to master.

Weirdo.

"I used to have a close friend who worked as a barista. Back in our student days. We - uh - drifted apart."

"That's an odd thing to say," Logan replied, leaning closer. A frown worked its way across his brow.

"Well, let's just say that's why I wasn't so receptive earlier. I was thinking about the past, rather than what was in front of me... So, thank you." I sniffed, hoping it'd excuse my odd behaviour.

Unable to glean anything more from his face, I looked out the window. The rain continued to pour down, tapping against the glass holding back the low roar. I felt like I should say something rather than just leave him hanging with my own woes.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Logan replied, still watching me. I pulled a smile over my lips, nodding as I looked around the place.

"I'll admit, I'm jealous of that skill... it's something about yourself you can hold on to." It was half flattery, half truth.

"Now that is weird, if you think it's considered a skill." Logan returned my smile, beckoning me to come round the counter to inspect his tools. You can bet I instantly clocked the rainbow sticker on the back of the coffee machine. "You clearly haven't met the snooty latte mums or stuck up suits," he snorted, batting his ears.

"Then why stay and put up with them?" I pressed.

"I like being my own boss." The deer shrugged, shoulders heavy like they finally felt the weight of those antlers. "And I meet all sorts of interesting people."

"Even the suits?"

"They're largely interested in nonsense like kopi luwak, but yes, them too." Logan chuckled. He crouched down so his eyes were level with mine. "What about you? For someone who seems to hold a skill so highly, you haven't spoken about your own."

My mind flashed back to that quivering mess I made of Max in the backroom of BlueBucks. After three years of undergraduate language study, and a further three scrambling around between temp writing jobs to fixed term contracts - failing to ever get something permanent - it felt that was the only kind of skill my tongue had left.

Of course I couldn't say that, despite how kind and handsome the stag was. So I stood there in silence, my ears twitching as they picked up on the subtle tap of his hooves, the weighty footfalls of expectation.

"Not really." I shrugged, trying to weather his insistent look. He actually had learned something useful. I had a piece of paper and wounded pride.

"I struggle to believe that." The deer smirked, as if he knew my thoughts.

"No offence, but don't you have a job to do?" I sighed, pushing my paws into my damp pockets.

The buck mimed dashing around, as if he'd suddenly had an influx of customers, before settling his attention back to me.

"You're not my boss," he tutted. "But while you're here, perhaps you can help me. I need a second opinion on something."

He stood up and returned to the machine, moving with that speed which only comes from years of practice. Before I even had time to object, he handed me an espresso shot in a small paper cup. The bitter scent was potent enough to stand out among the ambient coffee smell.

"It's a new blend of mine. I haven't quite made up my mind about it." He continued talking about the intricacies of the roasting process, which, though almost entirely lost on me, wasn't a bad thing. His voice was comforting, rumbling softly like distant thunder, like falling asleep to the sound of rain.

"Thanks," I said, gulping down the tasty shot.

"So, what do you think? I'm not sure about the flavour - it's quite bitter."

I ran my tongue over my teeth, wishing my tongue was fluent in coffee buff.

"It's great, but I still prefer my coffee with cream," I blurted out and bit my lip, realising I'd probably uttered a cardinal sin. I looked up, relieved to see a dirty grin stretching across Logan's muzzle.

But we both hesitated - standing there shifting from paw to paw, hoof to hoof, teetering on the threshold of a choice, wondering if that silly thought we were about to say matched the other's.

The stag exhaled slowly, as if venting a well-kindled fire deep inside. I felt his warm breath on my ears and tease my headfur - both comforting and tantalizing for how else I could experience it. Preferably, with him lying next to me.

"Do you... still want to know my skill?" I didn't bother to disguise the sultry flash in my eyes as I spoke.

"Like mine, does it require a more practical demonstration?" The stag rumbled, taking a deep breath.

"If you're that curious." I titled my head back.

He nodded, jostling in his pocket for the keys. Flicking off the lights, he locked the door and switched around the open sign, before guiding me round the back.

I was already prepared for another encounter in the back of a coffee shop as we pushed through the swing door, and walked back through a storeroom filled with the aromatic scent of freshly roasted beans. But my expectation faded as we went through another door, then up a narrow flight of old, creaky wooden stairs.

"How do you get up this with your antlers?"

Logan pointed at the fresh gashes in the otherwise aged wooden panelling.

At the top of the climb we came to a dimly lit corridor with creaky wooden floorboards, with only a single door illuminated with warm light at the end. The buck went ahead, his cute white-tipped tail flicking about behind his apron confidently, a guiding light in the dark. He opened the door and ushered me inside.

The same uneven floor stretched ahead, a rather ancient looking rug covering the centre with some oriental design. In the corners and against the walls there was a worn looking dresser and a couple of shelves that seemed as ancient as the rest of the place. Posters, trinkets, and other keepsakes adorned the walls and counters like charms, with a cosy looking bed pinning it all together.

"This a more suitable environment for your skills?" He gestured for me to join him, flopping down on a beanbag at the foot of the bed. Unwilling to have my smaller frame get swallowed in it, I flopped down on top of him, wiggling against his chest.

"I didn't expect you to be so forward." Logan whistled and rested his arms around me.

I bit my lip, hoping that I hadn't made a mistake.

"That's an impressive collection," I said, nudging my head towards the bookshelf.

"Thanks, but I'd be a liar to claim I've read all of them." He wiggled slightly as he adjusted his embrace.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't know the feeling," I replied, scratching the back of my ears as I felt a hot flush run through me.

"Such honesty," he rumbled. "But I don't think you came all this way to inspect a book collection."

"Well, literary matters were once some skill of mine," I mumbled, pausing for dramatic effect. "But words aren't just the only talent my tongue is capable of..."

The stag chuckled, resting his snout against the back of my head.

"And is that something you'd care to share with me?" The deer replied, wiggling himself further back into the beanbag with a slow, circular motion from his hips.

"Curious then?" I teased, turning my head to catch his eye.

"Onlf if the feeling's mutual," he replied. "Can't say I haven't wondered about the things they say about foxes..."

"Well, I'm certainly relieved that you aren't like the other deer I knew..." All the ones I'd met at uni always seemed to shy away and form their own little herds.

The stag grinned, taking hold of my hands and guiding them down the sides of his waist. "It's my pleasure then, but you should know I'm not just the average buck."

I flicked my thumbs inside the elastic band of his underwear. He let go of me as my nimble paws continued their descent. I changed my position so I could continue, meeting him face to face, watching those golden eyes. I went lower and lower.

"Woah, you're hung like a-

His cock twitched.

"Horse." he huffed. "Comes from my mum's side of the family," he boasted.

"I'll need a closer inspection."

He mock-groaned as I got up off him. We both slipped out of our clothes, pulling jeans and fumbling with shirt buttons.

I'm not ashamed to say that when he finally took off his tight boxers, my eyes shot down and locked onto his dick.

Hung like a horse indeed - his equine member was mottled pink and black, the former fading away as the later took over between his medial ring and hilt. If that wasn't enough, the glint of metal betrayed an impressive collection of piercings - eight rows on his ladder, topped off with a thick PA.

"That's a lot of jewellery," I whistled, lifting my paws up to caress his studded length.

"Thanks cutie," he bleated, firming up at my touch. "It took a while to work up the courage, but I love the look - and feel."

I flicked my ears, posing the question.

Logan blushed.

"Not everyone can take me, so a little extra stimulation in the right places helps."

"That so?" I nodded, taking the ring of his PA and sliding it round, watching it disappear into his cock. My mind was already playing with the image of my lying back on the floor, tail eagerly raised, while he sunk that monster into me - row upon row of studs slipping inside my tail until the last rung disappeared and his hips met mine with a shudder.

"I know that look," Logan interrupted, snapping his fingers next to my ear to bring me back. "I don't think even fennec foxes stretch that much."

"I still want you in me," I snapped defensively, unwilling to accept such a stain on my pride.

So what else did I do? I opened my muzzle - toes curling as he pushed into my warm, wet muzzle. A soft squeak rushed out of me. I felt his magnificent length press against my tongue and pulse against the roof of my muzzle like no room could be wasted.

I took a fortifying breath through my nose and sucked hard.

"Holy fuck," the deer exhaled. "I take it back, fox." He tapped out, his hoofed fingers clattering against the wooden bedframe.

I made sure his swollen head slid from my lips with a satisfying pop, my saliva leaving a glistening tidemark almost halfway up his member.

"Reconsidered what's possible?" I licked my lips, enjoying his lingering taste.

Logan yielded and gestured over to the bed, tossing me a couple of cushions to prop myself up.

"How about you see if you can get four out of eight rows inside me," I teased, wiggling my hips.

"That's fighting talk!" Logan grabbed hold of my legs and pulled me closer, lining his thick equine cock up against my tail. He lifted a paw and wiggled two fingers inside his cheek. Next thing I felt them against them below my tail, weaving slick circles around my ring. I breathed a long sigh into the pillows, closing my eyes for a moment as I waited to feel him slip a finger inside - then two. Instead, I felt him rim his cock against me.

"Aren't you, uh, going to slicken me up more?" I wasn't even asking for him to eat me -

"I figured you'd prefer this."

I looked back and saw his leaking head against me.

"Dude," I whistled. "That's your pre?"

"Just wait for the load." He lay down against me, his chest resting against my shoulders, the groove of his hips matching the curve of my butt, and our scents mingling. The pressure against my tail grew as he held me closer and closer.

"You're tight," Logan grunted.

"You're big," I shot back.

I buried my muzzle into the sofa to muffle the yelp, gripping the cushions and curling my toes.

"You okay down there?" He huffed, flicking one of my ears to get my attention.

"Yeah, yeah..." I replied hazily, lapsing back into incoherent bliss.

"I'll go slow..." he started, but words weren't important anymore. I was listening to the other things - the subtle, satisfying breath he took whenever I squeezed him, the distinct bump as another of his piercings slipped inside.

"Say if it's too much," he huffed.

"Uh huh," I mustered, pushing back against him. He relented and began to rock his hips gently, easing himself in and out of me. I felt each and every movement - down to the gentle ripple of his piercings in and out of my tail. However many minutes it was I didn't care.

The bliss of feeling him slip deeper into me was something else. I reveled in the intimacy of it, the feeling of his twitching cock tying us deeper and deeper together, and the way my tail squeezed on every part of him as if he belonged there. Half-remembered noises escaped my muzzle as I felt myself meld around him, my nerves tingling as our bodies melted away into a higher state of pleasure, losing anything within ourselves that had become cold and hard in the process. I didn't even recall when my sense of sound became a buzzing in my ears, or the words that seemed to whip him into a frenzy. Instead there was only the sound of us, straining to push beyond and clasp together a moment that would linger long after we burnt ourselves out.

When he came, I felt every twitch of him as he spent himself inside me, before slowly pulling out.Dimly, I heard Logan whistle behind me, but the final 'pop' when he pulled his head from me was clear. I buried my muzzle into the pillows, swishing my tail about as I enjoyed the cool breeze on my well-used tail.

"How much did I manage?" I whispered, already full of remorse that we once more had to rely on words.

"Six out of eight, fox," Logan confirmed, rubbing the back of my head gently. I confess feeling a little disappointed at that, despite knowing from both his tone and tender actions that it was more than enough for him. Or perhaps like a firm breath to glowing embers, his words were enough to rekindle me.

"You know, I've never had a guy take so much first time," Logan continued, sensing my mood. The deer reached down and gently tugged my knot, still firm yet leaking my seed. "Want to see if you can beat that?"

"You still got more left in you?" I blinked and glanced down at his cock.

Logan nodded.

"I bet you can get all eight if you ride me." The stag grinned and rolled over onto his back, waving his once again hard length in the air.

I bit my lip and looked out the window. The rain still fell from the sky in driving sheets, obscuring the city and any sign of my replacement bus. I glanced between his tall, enticing length twitching for my tail, and my damp jeans lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. I remembered that I'd stuffed my ticket in there and after all that rain, I doubted that the frail paper slip was anything more than runny ink and papier-mâché.

"I think I might be delayed a bit longer," I sighed, smiling.

"I can help with that," Logan whispered, patting his thigh. But what really made me stay was the look in his eyes - soft, tender, and eager for me.

I held his gaze as he began to slide back inside me, the look between us deepening. In that moment, it sort of clicked - the belief that there was something between us worth exploring.

I sat down firmly, excited to see where the present would lead me.