Fang, Hoof, Antler, Claw: Steven's Reward
_Steven's breath steamed in the cold air of the midwinter evening. The entire sky was a roiling mass of ruddy dying sun and steel-grey storm clouds, promising snow later in the evening. He walked down the rutted path cut through the hoarfrost on either side, surprisingly comfortable though he wore only a short loincloth, his natural gold-brown pelt thickened against the chill. The houses around him were simple one-room huts, sealed tight against the cold and overgrown with moss, little more than stacked cairns of rock, and yet each hauntingly familiar. In front of one of the stone huts, he unloaded a pile of firewood he had chopped just a few minutes before with his flint axe, adding to the meager pile already there. Talesia opened the door to greet him, heavily pregnant with their son. Steve was unsure why he was so certain of the child's gender.
"You don't need to be doing this. You've done your duty to our tribe, and now you'll do your duty to our Father. No one would begrudge you a final day of pleasure." She looked away, as if what was about to happen were not a yearly ritual. Steven shook his head.
"The Sun needs me strong, to give him life, does he not? What aid would a weak stag provide him?"
Talesia looked away, hand on her stomach, as the soft crunch of the shaman's footsteps grew closer.
"It is time, Steven. Are you ready to aid your Father, save your Mother, and serve your people?"
Steven slowly turned to face her, the oldest doe in the herd. Something about the sunset's glow glinting off Coach's prosthetics made his brain itch. Something wasn't right. Her lone eye glinted with lupine glee, and her grim smile showcased her fangs. She seemed to be waiting for his answer. Steven nodded slowly.
"I am, Herd Mother..." He trailed off. Something about that title seemed suddenly repugnant, though he didn't know why.
"Then let us go to the dolmen." Without waiting for a reaction she strode away purposefully, light snowfall dusting her shoulders.
Steven fell into step behind her, but his feet suddenly felt so heavy, each step as exhausting as if he had locked antlers with a challenging male for this herd. His chest heaved as he soldiered on, pushing forward with Coach leading him. As she walked ahead, she was surrounded by a cluster of does, all of them familiar. His teammate Talesia, his high school chemistry teacher Sarah, his first girlfriend Lisa from middle school...all were walking to the stone slabs, and all were heavily pregnant. Panting and grunting, like he was pinned beneath something heavy, he finally joined them all circled around the cavernous altar. Coach, ringed with pregnant does holding torches, held a stag's skull, with rack attached, gesturing with it as she spoke.
"Sisters and daughters! We have had a blessed year. The harvest was rich, and the seasons kind! Our Father warmed us, and our Mother provided great bounty!" She turned to face each of the does in turn, eyeless skull staring out at Steven, never changing. "In the Autumn, when our Father grew tired, our menfolk came out of the forest to partake of the harvest and choose who was the strongest male! We were gifted by the winner, the Son of Summer" she nodded at Steven, "and by the stag that shall follow in his footsteps, the Son of Winter!"
Kits padded silently out of the growing shadows, stepping gracefully through the does in a way that made Steven envious, even though he could move more lightly than the heavyset wolf. Something about Kits' antlers seemed off, like Coach's metal arm. What was he missing?
"However, the cold times must come, as they do every year. Our Father grows weak and wan, his life force spent nourishing us and our Mother. The world grows dark and cold. Without help, our Father shall die and the land will live in the grip of ice unending." She nodded at Steve, and he knew to get atop the chilly stone, standing tall and proud, arms crossed as he stared out into the crowd. "To save our Father, the Son of Summer shall give him strength. He will return to the father in the prime of his life, not bleached and wizened with age. His virility shall be shared among the fields just as it has been among us. He shall warm the fields as he has warmed us. Will you do this, Son of Summer?"
Steven nodded slowly, feeling as if he was underwater. The sun had broken through the clouds far off in the horizon, and the golden half-disk was perfectly set between the two stone pillars, framing Steven in a halo of heat and light. Coach nodded solemnly in turn and lifted the skull high.
"Bring the ropes and bowls, and the doe that is to guide him."
Steven gently disrobed and handed his loincloth to a nearby doe. Naked, he laid himself out on the chilly stone and relaxed as several of the does returned with large wooden bowls stained rust-brown with use, and thick bark-fiber ropes. He spread-eagled himself, nipples hardening in the cold, and let himself be lashed securely to the table. Around him nothing more than steaming breaths and intense quiet attention, he suppressed a shiver. What wasn't right here? Coach held the skull steady as the Son of Winter brought the maiden that would "guide" him, whatever that meant. The bound buck snorted and suddenly strained against the ropes in surprise as Kits walked Samiel over as primly as if the small, ruddy buck was the wolf's own daughter.
Samiel, unlike the rest of the assemblage, was wearing clothing that seemed reasonable, like the heavy shawl of some sort wrapped around him from the neck down. This was accessorized by a layer of thinner fabric within, wrapped more tightly about his body. Only his head was exposed. He said nothing as he disrobed and stepped up onto the dolmen in front of Steven, moving his muzzle in close to the pinioned deer's crotch.
Steven stared intently at Samiel, the itching in his brain at a fever pitch now. This all seemed so familiar and so strange at once; there were no strangers in this crowd. Further investigation was cut off as Samiel's hot breath grazed over his sheath, earning a low moan from Steve. Samiel felt so hot and vibrant, pressed against him, his small hands gently stroking the muscled inner thighs of the bigger buck. Steven grunted softly, his creamy-furred sheath swelling with enthusiastic speed at the touch of an eager "doe", his pink tip sliding free even as Samiel's steaming breath left delicate ice crystals on his fur. Steve reached down to grip Samiel's head and guide him, and immediately snapped taut against the rope pinning him. He had forgotten about that. Why was he tied down again? It was an honor to be the Son of Summer, right? To save all his wives?
What was wrong was on the tip of Steve's tongue. Unfortunately, Steve's tip was on Samiel's tongue, and the small red buck hungrily engulfed as much as Steve had released to the chilly winter's night, slowly nosing back the golden deer's sheath for more. Steve thrust his hips forward and groaned a bit, involuntarily straining against the ropes that held him, Samiel's heat and weight around his crotch making him gasp and grunt in desire. Samiel's hot mouth and gentle hands made the cold stone he was tied to feel distant and unreal, and his vision swam as he looked past the small buck beneath him. The does were all smearing their faces with ashes, and drawing out flint knives. Kits already had his knife out and was waiting by Steven's head, a fellow stag to make the killing blow.
He was going to be milked, tortured, and then killed, Steve understood. This did not worry him. The fact that it did not worry him was what worried him. As Samiel gagged softly on Steven's length, earning a grunt and more struggles, Steve tried to figure out why his imminent sacrifice was failing to awaken any fear. He seemed to be split on the subject into two reactions. Half of him felt this was right and natural. He had come here, defeated all the other bucks to prove his strength, impregnated all the does to prove his virility, and would have his final orgasm and subsequent gory death used to ensure his children didn't starve. Was that not the purpose of a stag?
The other half of his feelings on the subject were too busy fucking the eager face at his crotch to provide a counterargument.
Unaware or uncaring of his coming demise, his balls were eager to share their bounty with Samiel, and he felt them ache in excitement as the blunt teeth of the buck worked his shaft gently. He was a deer and wasn't anything special in the girth department, but his long cervine cock was already buried deeply in Samiel's throat, and the eager little buck had barely gagged taking it in, his little tail flagged in eager submission as he nuzzled into Steve's soft, musky pubic fur. Steve smiled as he watched his "doe" moan softly and gulp at the throbbing maleness, Samiel's expertise with fellow deerdick so great that Steve could forget his surroundings.
Talesia was there to remind him. As Steve arched his back yet again and Samiel gently stroked his aching sac, coaxing him forwards, Talesia slashed a short, quick wound across Steve's nipple. Steve bellowed in pain and surprise. Weren't the heathens of yore supposed to drain their stags of blood through the wrist and throat? What use would a nipple wound be?
Talesia slowly milked the deep slash she had put into Steven's wrist, the stag's struggles speeding his heart rate and thus blood loss. Samiel continued oblivious, his mouth feeling hot and real and vivid compared to the cold haze around Steve. The sacrificial stag pulled against the bark ropes like the wounded animal he had become, feeling his life slipping away even as his orgasm built. Kits stood impassive over him, his flint knife larger and more detailed than the simple designs the does were using.
Steve's body strained as he neared release in multiple senses. More women were crowding around, and Samiel had begun bobbing aggressively along his thick deerhood, rapidly working him with enviable precision. Everything was getting cold and fuzzy, save for the sensation of Samiel's face worshipfully buried in Steven's crotch. He thought he felt his other wrist tapped open, but his extremities weren't really responding anymore. He moaned, dragged helplessly towards his orgasm. Woman after woman after woman were stabbing him now, their knives not even hurting, just feeling like he was being entangled further. He felt the heat go out of him, sapped into the stone beneath, save for a final flaring coal in his crotch. He arched his back and felt his own voice, distantly bugling his orgasm, cut short as Kits slit his throat.
"Pleasant dreams, brother." The wolf's eye sockets were as darkly empty as the skull's._
***********************
Steven awoke to his own orgasmic bellow half-mixed with a primal scream of fear and rage, sitting straight up in bed to face a very frightened Samiel. The smaller buck looked poleaxed in terror for only a moment before his face clouded in anger.
"Steve! I nearly gored you!" The anger melted to reveal concern as the small buck crushed himself against the larger one's chest. "Are you okay? You sounded like you were dying there!" The concern flared into exasperation for a moment, Samiel looking skyward in annoyance as he touched the the load splattered on his face. "See if I suck you off as a wake-up call ever again!" Finally, Samiel wordlessly hugged Steven tight, grunting lightly as he pressed his sticky cheek to Steve's muscled abdomen.
Steven blinked. Moments before he had merely been groggy. Now he was truly confused. Samiel nuzzled his musky chest, snuffling softly and licking his chops clean as Steve tried to work everything into a coherent order. He glanced around.
He was in bed with Samiel in his dorm. The late-morning light streamed through the place, illuminating Steve's lack of tidiness and the large bed the two deer shared. He remembered last night slowly, the wild battle to take Samiel from the domineering stag that had raped him, the ensuing ass-plowing to give the stag a taste of his own virile medicine, and the trip home to find Samiel already half-seduced by Steve's worst enemy, Kits. After the willowy red buck had negotiated a ceasefire, they had left the wolf to return to Steve's dorm. Steve didn't much remember things after that. Something about pants.
"Steve, are you okay?" Samiel looked up at him earnestly, his lean body pressed tightly against the more muscular deer. "I was sucking you off, and you came and then screamed bloody murder. I thought I had bit you somehow."
Steven shook his head. "Nightmare. A really bad one." he shivered, the warm bed somehow insufficient to dispel the feel of cold stone on his back. "I dreamt I was way in the past, during the Heathen Era. I was their chosen sacrifice. Except Kits and Coach and you were there...and the chem teacher I used to jerk it to." Steven groaned. "It was messed up and bloody and freaky, and I slotted you sucking me off as part of the dream."
Samiel listened quietly, nodding. Steven stretched back out on his back, and when the position made him feel eerie, rolled over to his side. Samiel slid off him as he rolled and snuggled up beside him, pulling some of the sheets and blankets he had wrapped around himself like a cloak onto Steve. He finally spoke.
"What's your major?"
"I'm double-majoring, theology and history. Why do you ask?"
"Well, doesn't it make sense? You probably read about the Heathens in a textbook recently, and then when you had a pretty standard nightmare you slotted in stuff that scared you or mattered to you, like being a sacrifice for the Heathens, or people you see every day." He chuckled, wiping off a dangling remainder of Steve's stringy essence from his eyebrow. "I'm kinda touched you count me as dream-worthy already."
Steve nodded, blushing a little and smiling. "You're pretty good. You majoring in Psychology?"
"Nope. Engineering." Steve looked crestfallen and Samiel looked down sympathetically. "Psych is my minor."
Steve snorted, half in humor, half in desire. The bashful buck facing him, sprawled against him in bed, was inspiring a desire to protect...and to breed. Samiel felt the sudden flush of heat near his leg as Steve recovered with cervine speed, and began sliding down to taste him again with an eager smile. Steve gently put a hand on his shoulder.
"In the dream, you were, um, the guiding maiden." He snorted, eyes pacing back and forth nervously as if searching for predators. "I'd prefer to not do oral for a while."
Samiel winced in sympathy. "She's the one that gets the sacrifice off, isn't she?" Steve nodded grimly. Samiel scooted back up to cuddle against the larger male, nosing into the crook of Steve's neck and exhaling softly in desire. Steve felt eager fingers gently slide over his sheath, followed by a smaller, but equally-warm package press against it.
"So you think I'm a woman, eh?" Steve felt the red deer's erection grinding through his fur slowly. Steve shook his head. While he might use Samiel like a woman, he smelled like a buck, and the erection pressed against his own ensured he felt like one too.
It was Samiel's turn to blush.
"You know, coming from you I don't think I'd be offended. After all you've been through you could probably claim me as a woman. You had to fight a stag to get me, I lift tail for you without reservation, and other guys were trying to steal me from you within an hour of you claiming me." He looked down shyly, ears laid back and tail lifted up in respect, only his bright-red boner betraying his feelings on the subject. Steve smiled and reached down, gently fondling Samiel's erection.
"It's okay. I'll admit a lot of last night is hazy, but I do remember I told Jasper that you're your own man, and then me telling you as much when you were underneath Kits. I didn't drink that much so it wasn't a drunken promise. You're a buck, and I'll give you the respect afforded to one."
Samiel moaned softly, his penis throbbing slowly in the firm but gentle grip of the deer above him. Steven smelled dominant: safe and protective, but virile and dangerously powerful. The odor inspired a mix of respectful fear at a mightier deer, and submissive desire to be with and underneath such a magnificent hart. Steve smiled and slowly rolled atop Samiel, kissing him forcefully, feeling the small buck arch his body to press it against the male atop him. Samiel paused, relaxing and gently continuing the kiss for a while, clearly distracted. Steven sensed his sudden passivity and stopped also, waiting for Samiel to speak his mind.
"You don't think of me as a buck, though." The buck on bottom spoke softly. It wasn't a question.
Steven cocked his head and went back to gently jacking Samiel, earning soft moans and the odd squeal as he thought it over.
"I guess I don't, you're right." Steven felt Samiel tense slightly. "I mean, you're clearly a buck, but you also make me...really possessive?" Steven nuzzled into the crook of Samiel's neck. "You arouse me so much. You make me want to just grab you and bellow 'Mine!' and beat up any other bucks trying to take you. I don't even think about it."
Samiel chuckled and tugged Steve's sheath, earning a low snort of desire from him. "You're lying, buck."
Steve quirked his head. "I don't think so."
"If you're really so possessive, then why are you, even grudgingly, letting me give other guys blowjobs in the showers? You and I both know that you could tell me to stop and I'd do so in a heartbeat. But you haven't. That doesn't sound possessive to me."
Steve stalled the conversation for a few moments to think by kissing Samiel firmly, gently filling his muzzle with his tongue, the smaller deer sucking on it ecstatically. Samiel retaliated by respectfully massaging Steve's balls, earning a low moan before Steve pulled away to answer.
"It's...complicated. I guess I don't own you like I own a piece of property, or a wife before the Reformation. I just know you're staying with me. I feel more like your leader than your owner, if that makes any sense. Yeah, I do have sway over you," Steve punctuated the claim with giggle-inducing tweak of Samiel's nipple "but it's to care for you, not for self-aggrandizement." He kissed the small buck passionately several times, going lower with each one. "I'm in charge because you trust me. Jasper was in charge of you too, but never with your interests at heart. I want to show you how a stag *should* lead, I want you to *want* to follow m-" Samiel grabbed his rack and kissed him into silence, gently stroking along the sides of Steve's sheath with his own dripping meat. Once both were satisfied the small buck broke the kiss, locking his rack against his "leader's" with an amorous smile.
"I understand, Steve. I do trust you. Even more importantly, I like you." Samiel looked into the broad face of the deer above him. "I was made into a doe by a very bad stag before I was rescued by you. Now I'm willing to be a doe for a very good stag." He twisted his smaller antlers against Steve's heavy rack and gave an tug, forcing an aroused grunt out of the newly-minted stag. "You came home last night sweating, stinking, and victorious, and I've been an ass and denied you your reward. Can we start making up for that?"
Steven didn't reply, merely rolling Samiel over as he snorted lustfully into the slender buck's ear. Samiel complied instinctually, arching his back and flipping up his white tail, flagging it respectfully and looking back at Steve with admiration. He loved being in this position, properly presented underneath a real stag. Steve grinned friskily, caressing Samiel's muzzle and drawing a thick gobbet of his semen off his lover's smiling face. He carefully spread his spunk over the tight pink rosebud being presented to him, Samiel's rump flexing in fearful anticipation. Steve grinned as the deer's ass tightened, and the submissive buck whined softly in fear and desire. Steve snorted paternally, his other hand stroking Samiel's back, trying to calm him even as he internally savored the power such fear and respect gave him. Samiel knew his place and so did Steve, and the big stag was going to show him the reason it was that way. Tenderly. Samiel's ears drooped even as his tail flagged higher, shutting his eyes and quivering as Steve penetrated the mock-doe manually, stretching him in preparation. The hot ring clamped down anxiously about his finger, a shivering gasp erupting from its owner's mouth as the finger forcibly continued its slow march in.
"F-fuck...and t-that's just one finger, isn't it?" Samiel whimpered.
Steve smiled, the vice-grip his finger was under flexing back and forth gently as he grunted a soft, reassuring nothing into his lover's ear.
"Yeah, and I'm not going in until I can move two easily. For a guy who Jasper used so often you sure are tight." He swirled his finger around slowly, feeling Samiel squirm and grunt beneath him. He grinned, feeling the tiny buck all laid out and helpless just from a single finger.
"I'm t-too excited." the violated buck whined, arching his back against the blunt object invading his hole, his breath coming in soft gasps. "I can't relax. I want you in me so badly! Please!" Steve leaned in atop him, grinding his muscled chest against Samiel's back.
"I don't want to hurt you." he snorted, trying to ignore how much he would enjoy sliding in and hilting home right this moment, heedless of Samiel's suffering. "You're going to be walking funny the rest of the week if I get in you now."
Samiel moaned and looked back at Steven pleadingly. "It's worth it. I just want to get fucked by you so badly now. Please." The last word was almost a sob.
Steve nodded, withdrawing his finger and spitting into his palm, jacking himself slick with practiced ease. He repeated the motions to make sure he was lubed; Samiel's small body didn't deserve to be wrecked just because the stag mounting him was reckless. Samiel looked back, mouth hanging open and ears laid flat, senses already dulled by lust.
His eyes widened as the heat of Steve's member pressed between his cheeks, drippily seeking its target in the pert white rump. They shut tightly as the dark pink tip muscled its way into his ecstatically clenched ring and made him Steve's. They bugged out slightly as Steve's maleness kept muscling in, hard inch by hard inch. Finally, they teared up as the huge golden stag hilted for the first time, his muscled hips locked tight against Samiel's. He couldn't even speak or move, he felt weak and wonderfully limp. His guts squeezed at the invading male's rod ineffectually, trying to drive out the stag dominating him, and failing in the best possible way.
Steve didn't groan so much as bellow, Samiel's body affixing around his prick like heated velvet, gripping him hard enough the red buck's entire body was shaking with the effort. Steve grunted and pressed his front against the faltering buck's back, reassuring the ruddy male beneath him even as he bit his lower lip trying to keep self-control. He grunted softly, gasping as Samiel writhed beneath him, the penetrated deer's scent sharpening as he started to sweat, feeling slimy and opened and vulnerable. The musk shouted "You won! I submit!", and it just made Steve want to grind more out of the half-doe beneath him. He satisfied his demand to do so carefully, gently pulling back to the tip, and forcing himself back in to the hilt only slightly faster. His hands shook like an addict as he grit his teeth and eased himself in again. He was going to do this right...
Samiel whimpered and pressed back against Steve's gentle thrusts. "S-Steve...it's o-okay. Do what-ah! mf!-..do what *you* want."
It was Steve's turn to sob. He gripped Samiel's antlers like handlebars and pushed himself in as roughly as he wanted, his entire body flexing as his slimy staghood struck home, repeating this motion rapidly as he gave in to his lust. He was more than a little surprised to feel Samiel's tight pink pucker spread wide but continue to grip with all its might as the little buck lifted his head and hollered. Steve guiltily began to slow, knowing he had reamed Samiel bloody and hating that he had loved it, those few blessed moments when he had plowed him hot and raw like he wanted to deep down, when he had bred the boy like-
"By the balls of the First Stag!" Samiel screamed. "Keep going!"
Steve laughed in berserk joy as he redoubled his efforts to fuck Samiel stupid, nearly blowing his load there as he began drilling him in earnest. He twisted Samiel's body and shifted upwards to get a more brutal, more wonderful angle as he jammed his manhood again and again into the satiny depths of the deer below. He hollered gleefully as Samiel was bent uncomfortably, each new thrust forcing the small, mewling deer into the bed further. His hips rocked with dominating zeal as he rammed home why he was on top and Samiel beneath him worshipfully, his heavy nuts bouncing off Samiel's own tighter-clenched pair with each wild rut. Freed of any restrictions of his own care, he hunkered down to vent the animal lusts that had been driving him since he first laid eyes on the buck beneath him.
Samiel moaned, reduced to as much an animal state as Steve, in his own way. While he had at first tried to support Steve's thrusts, the sheer size and force left him spread wide helplessly and being ground into the bed, unable to do anything more than moan and instinctively twitch as he was reamed by a true stag. His body spasmed and his own cock pulsed wildly, its tip drooling long streams of pre that the force of Steve's thrusts sent spattering Samiel's belly. His own penis ached wildly for release, and he made a grab for it, only to have Steve's momentum disrupt his grab. He tried again, reaching more wildly, and found himself half-doubled-over, neck bent at an awkward angle, Steve's thrusting too rough for him to balance under at all. He had effectively made it impossible to grab his dick. As Steve plunged into him, leaving his rear a squishing, reamed mess, Samiel whimpered in lustful need.
Steve assumed he was asking for more, and happily provided. His thick pink length slid in, jamming up against sensitive deerflesh and earning squeals from Samiel, each hammering making Samiel a bit less firm and a bit more submissive, the resistance to Steven's frenzied breeding being fucked right out of him. While it hadn't taken much to ream any active resistance out of Samiel's pert rump, Steve enjoyed his wonderfully tight hole anyway, the sheer size difference ensuring Samiel never let go of his cock. Gripped by such a permanently-attentive ring, Steve saw no reason to stop, his broad tongue sliding out a bit as he panted and grunted in exertion. His musky sweat began to bead up on his body, and then slide off, dripping onto Samiel and his bed as a warm rain of odoriferous dominance, eroding Samiel's own odor like rain on chalk drawings.
Samiel whimpered in ecstasy, his own maleness feeling like it was about to burst in need, and his own body unable to do anything but submissively take each slimy thrust as he squished and squelched from the loads of pre Steve had already filled him with. His prostate felt like one giant wonderful bruise, aching and swollen and pounded and quivering for the next in eager anticipation. He blated pathetically, his cock near-purple with denied orgasm, his fingers just barely able to graze the tip. Steve's meat was the only thing keeping the non-penis parts of Samiel stiff and he gave a keening cry of frustration.
Steve didn't pause or even slow, but he did look down at his awkwardly-spread little buck and grinned paternally, gripping the smaller deer's antlers teasingly, each yank sending the orgasmic shiver all bucks felt at locked antlers down his lover's body. The effect left Samiel squealing and squirming, limp and totally unprepared for Steve's orgasm.
Steve's throat puffed out proudly and he bugled dominantly as he came, but the rest of his body didn't seem to notice, still impaling Samiel with brutal thrusts. It was only when the red deer's ass overflowed with the frothy load Steve's balls had generated that he looked down, and kept going. He grinned dominantly, each heavy thrust spurting stagspunk from the near-complete seal Samiel's rump provided. Samiel squirmed and whimpered, dazed and so concerned with his own need to orgasm he hadn't even realized that he had a hot, sticky quart of stag had been sluiced into him, and just as much dribbled down his rump, back, and crotch.
It was only when the pearly beads and rivulets of Steven's load reached his face, still palpably warm, that Samiel realized anything at all had changed. He moaned in a mixture of lust and frustration, suddenly seizing up as he felt Steve grip his aching cock. The stag's firm, controlling grip on his maleness and his antler made him groan and wriggles helplessly, barking out in surprise as Steve began jacking him as hard and as fast as he had used Samiel's ass. Slickened by the copious seed of his stag's ejaculation, it took only a few seconds for Samiel to join Steve in orgasm, his body arching and twisting wildly as he finally reached the release he had been begging for almost from the start. Long streamers of cervine cream launched themselves onto his chest and Steve's bed, each new spray punctuated by submissive moans and whimpers as Samiel was milked firmly by his new stag.
After a long, slow while, Steve let go and pulled his own half-flaccid meat out of Samiel. Freed of the forces keeping him bent up and face-first into the musky bed, Samiel slowly unfolded himself, moaning softly as his new position caused a geyser of hot stag semen to overflow and ooze down his roughly-fucked ass and over his spent balls. The small deer sighed tiredly.
"Fuck, I'm ready to get back to bed now. You?"
Steve chuckled, stretching broadly and scratching his muscled chest idly.
"I dunno, that was a great way to start the weekend; I think I could use some breakfast. Sex like that works up an appetite." He stroked Samiel's cum-streaked back tenderly. "Want me to get you anything?"
Samiel moaned and did a good impression of his frantic cock-grab maneuver from earlier, this time his stag of a boyfriend being the thing he couldn't quite grab. "No, I'm full...on both ends, now that I think about it. Fuck, how do you make so much sperm? I'm so full of it I feel queasy...or at least sloshy."
Steven grinned, rolled back into bed, and rested his respectably-heavy sac on Samiel's face, his sweaty, musky pubic fur tantalizing the smaller buck with a scent he had already associated with submission and pleasure.
"That answer your question?"
Samiel didn't respond, instead too busy grooming his stag's nuts respectfully, licking up the salty sweat with his eyes happily closed. Steven snorted in amusement and curled in to lock antlers again.
"You're a strange little buck, Samiel, but I really like you. Go back to bed if you want, I'm going to grab breakfast, and I'll snag a second portion for you. You can meet me down there or wait in here for me." He stood up, casually wrapping his kilt and putting on a shirt. He waited for a response for a few moments before he heard a light snore, Samiel out cold, snuggling into the bed and murmuring happy noises. The little buck felt safe and loved here. That was enough for Steve.
"Pleasant dreams, brother." said Steven. He meant it.