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Aren padded through the streets of the city, making sure to look at all of the buildings and all of the people - everything here was so different from back home! The architecture felt as if it had grown out of the grasses of the savannah outside the city walls, sharp at places like the blades of that grass, rounded in others as that grass bends beneath a light breeze; the mingling scents of food in the air - and, gods, there was a lot of that- all smelled to be spiced with different, exotic things, bulbs of flowers, ground tree bark, fiery roots, on top of the scent of the people; oh, the people! They seemed to be spicy, too, in their own way.

Just last night when he'd first arrived here, he stopped by one of the finer taverns in the high district of the city and requested something to drink. The bartender, a tall, busty lioness who looked like she'd had more than her share of fools in her tavern, had looked the smallish fox over with a bright yellow eye that turned out to be as sharp as both her tongue and the dagger hanging from her belt before she obliged. It was a rich, fruity brew, and one that muddled his thoughts before he was halfway through the mug. At some point, he lost track of where he'd put it, and had to order another one.

Then, later in the night - Aren just rented a room upstairs, figuring that better than stumbling halfway across town to find another place. There had been a wolf downstairs with fur the tone of a cloudy day and eyes the color of the sky behind those clouds; he had somehow found his way into Aren's room (him stumbling back downstairs, finding the wolf, and tugging on the fastenings of his pants probably had something to do with it), and the fox felt pretty certain that this wolf was the reason why he also ended up losing track of his shirt, his pants, and his purse as well, until he ended up face-down on the floor with his rump hiked up in the air and saw it under the bed. Even so, he still swiped the wolf's as well on his way out the door the next morning, having already decided on it the previous night.

The sharp taste of canid still lingered on the back of his tongue by the time he'd set out from the tavern, and he almost ordered another of the fruity drink he'd had the previous night before he realized that that would probably aggravate the headache he'd also awoken with. Thankfully, though, that headache had waned somewhat, and he could breathe in through his nose without feeling like his muzzle was still buried in that wolf's pubic fur, around midday when he decided to stop sightseeing and head for the palace to accomplish his actual task.

Aren was the eldest son of a count of a neighboring province, one that had a special deal with the ruler of this land. His family was renowned within a fair distance for their winemaking (though he himself couldn't even begin to identify what last night's drink had been brewed from), and some number of generations back, the King of this land had gotten his paws on one of their vintages, loved it, and sent an envoy to immediately set up an arrangement... or, at least, that's how the story went. Father was proud of it, and he told Aren that he should be proud, too, for being the one chosen to hammer out the details with the King.

The palace stood in the center of the city, bordered by a sky-blue river and gardens that looked far, far too green to be able to grow naturally in a climate such as this. Servants averted their eyes as he passed by for fear of angering a visitor, and nobles spending their time in the gardens looked him from head to toe and then to head again; he could see them muttering things to one another, but didn't particularly care. Foxes weren't too common in this part of the land: so far he'd only seen one other, and that one had been a fennec with sand-white fur.

Aren was proud of his own coloration, rich burgundy-red, like the surface of a tree splashed with fresh wine. That red turned to a deeper brown at his paws and feet, more like smooth chocolate or moist soil following a summer rain - and yet along his back were streaks of wavecrest white and raincloud silver, little flecks and speckles that he'd spent hours looking back into a mirror to try to see. And, then, his eyes - gems of polished amber, melding to a deep forest green just around his pupils. Oftentimes he'd stare at someone he wanted something from, and sure enough, sooner or later they'd notice and just... stare back.

The large front doors to the grand hall of the palace stood open. The fastenings of metal holding them together bore intricate details of people and battles or something; Aren only took a sidelong glance at them on the way past. Not only that, but the gardens outside weren't the extent of the palace's beauty: that living green had worked its way inside the grand hall, with vines climbing up the support columns, thin yet elegant trees sprouting along the center pathway, pools of clear water - extensions of the river outside, most likely - all leading up to and centering around the throne, which had been carved out of the base of a gigantic and thick tree, reaching up, up towards the ceiling; Aren craned his head back to see the top.

The throne was empty.

A little disgruntled - it was often seen as 'rude' to go anywhere in a palace without permission, if that palace does not belong to your family - but determined, the fox glanced around the room for the nearest guard, found one, and headed over that way. The claws of his feet tapped on the polished stone floor, echoing around through the high walls and vaulted ceiling.

This guard was one in a pair, standing on either side of a door that looked much like the entrance, except considerably smaller. They were both African wild dogs, mismatched in their coloration and markings: the one Aren chose to talk to had black-dominated fur, with a splotch of ochre across his right shoulder and a splash of ash-white crossing his muzzle. The other one looked like the clear opposite, with fur more the color of dried grass and streaks and spots of black and cinnamon streaked across his chest. They were both in simple garb: brown loincloth held up on a leather belt; sparse metal guards at select locations, such as a single bracer halfway up one arm with a vambrace along the other, a cuisse on only one leg, and a strip of decorated metal suspended diagonally across the chest, also by a leather strap, with one pauldron at the other end of that strap. They also each wore a wooden diadem, chosen to contrast with the main colors of their fur - with the darker dog wearing one of something the same general color of driftwood, and the lighter-furred one with an almost chocolate-colored wood.

Aren stood before the guard and cleared his throat. The top of his head, not counting his ears, came about level with the dog's shoulder; the guard blinked, shifted his shoulders in a quiet sigh, and then focused his sunset-amber eyes on the smallish fox in front of him. He did not speak.

"I'm here to see the King," said the fox.

"Are you, now?" The guard looked him over, head to toe and back to head, just as the nobles in the gardens had done. Then, he leaned over and looked at his partner on the other side of the door. They each held a long halberd in one paw with the base resting on the floor; the guard that Aren faced lifted his briefly and then set it back down, causing a gentle clatter to echo through the hall. "What's your name?"

"Aren. Of House Arro. I'm here to negotiate a wine deal."

"...Arro." The wild dog spoke slowly and heavily, in a lilting, edged accent- "I do not recognize your accent or your face, fox."

"Can I just see the King?"

The African wild dog's brow furrowed, and again he looked Aren over.

"...May I? Please?"

"The King is busy." The guard shifted his position and returned his gaze straight forward. "You may wait your turn, fox, like everyone else that wishes to see the King."

Aren grumbled. He had asked for some extra money from his father the Count for this trip, but certainly did not desire to spend it on a bribe... he took a step back and looked down the guard's body. That belt of his seemed rather tight: the fox could make out the bulge of a downward-hanging shaft in front, lifting the fabric of his loincloth a little and holding it away from his body...

He had an idea.

Without saying another word, the fox licked his lips, took another step forward - smiled as he caught a glimpse of those amber eyes flicking down to look at him - and then knelt down in front of the guard, his nose just a short distance away from the bulge behind his loincloth. He remembered the wolf last night, and then the carriage driver before that, whom he'd performed a few favors for in order to lessen the cost of taking him to the city... what would one more sneaky trick in his past, one more load in his belly do?

"Are you sure there's no way I can convince you?"

The guard swallowed with visible difficulty and glanced over at his partner, then back down to Aren. "You would do well to stand back up, f-fox..."

Aren traced his nose up along the line of the bulge, feeling the familiar warmth of a soft cock seep through the fabric. Were this dog ever to choose to brag about what he carried between his legs, he'd have full reason to: still soft - though the fox could feel a small twitch once his nose had followed the bulge all the way to its base - and he felt to be the same size as last night's wolf when hard. As if his throat wasn't already sore enough.

Not hearing any sort of complaint, Aren drew back and then tugged the guard's loincloth to the side - and then licked his lips. The fur of his lower belly was a fairly solid sandy cream color, jagged-edges the same way as the rest of his markings; that same cream fur carried down, puffed out around the centerpiece in more wiry pubic fur, and then continued on over his sack - but above that hung a black-fleshed length, admirably wide around, foreskin just short of hanging over a little bit.

After taking it all in, after lifting a paw up to weigh that soft-furred sack - full, heavy; palace guards usually didn't get many chances to relieve that burden - and then test the thickness of the shaft, he lifted it up a little, put his lips against the rim of the dog's foreskin, squeezed gently... and then flicked his tongue forward against the small space of revealed head, firmly enough to send a shiver up the guard's back, gently enough to make that shiver end in a sweet, sweet sigh. The fox closed his eyes and remained there, slowly moving his lips across the ridged rim or swirling his tongue around it, pressing in and tracing it over just that small area; it didn't take long at all for the guard's cock to stiffen against Aren's paw and try to lift up. He let it, and pressed his nose into the spot between the base of his shaft and the top of his sack, where his pubic fur receded - but where his scent was concentrated.

When hard, the guard's foreskin rolled back about halfway along his head, showing flesh of a slightly different shade of black; Aren peered up at it while tracing his nose along the underside of the wild dog's shaft and pressing his chin into the heat of his sack. He had to lift himself up onto the balls of his feet to drag his tongue all the way up the underside and flick it across the tip, but once he did, he brought his paw back up and angled the guard's cock back down towards his muzzle.

People about as spicy as the food. This one carried a richer musk than the wolf and carriage driver; Aren first picked it up on his now half-revealed head, and spent a short amount of time with the skin of his nose pressed against the warm, supple flesh, slowly breathing the scent in and then letting it out through his parted lips. Each exhalation tickled along the dog's shaft and made him shiver or twitch all over again - I'm getting ahead of myself, Aren realized, and closed his lips again on the rim of the guard's foreskin, still half-retracted.

It didn't stay that way for long, though: after what felt like a second and a half of having him held between his lips, the guard gently thrust forward further into the fox's muzzle, the small movement causing his foreskin to roll back a little further - he could feel it against the roof of his mouth, and brought his tongue up along the line of the frenum on the underside... off to the side he could hear the little noises of this guard's halberd against the floor, clattering with each of his movements. Aren fully realized that anyone of the court, or even someone just from outside, could walk in and see this palace guard with his length halfway in his muzzle - well, there was one other person already here; he opened his eyes and looked up at the other guard, who promptly flicked his eyes away. He realized this, and he honestly didn't really care.

The fox kept one paw wrapped around the base of the wild dog's length as he slowly descended on him, relishing each little twitch and throb, loving how he could feel the movement of his foreskin over his head; at one point he drew back just so he could wriggle his tongue beneath the rim of the skin and tug up against it, so he could feel its slight resistance and tug back.

Admittedly, he did have trouble further down along the African wild dog's shaft: a little bit past halfway along he could feel the warm pressure of it against the back of his throat, and had to stop there and stroke the base of it for a while. He brought his other paw up and massaged the dog's sack, rolling his balls around over his fingers, feeling_their_ heat so similar to that which radiated off this shaft... his arousal had only sharpened his scent a little, as Aren's nose was still at least three inches from his fur and he could still pick up that aroma as well as when he'd had it pressed right against it.

Instead of remaining in place for any longer, the fox started to move back and then dive back forward again, beginning a slow, steady rhythm soon taken up by the guard's hips. Aren opened his eyes again: the dog's free paw clenched and unclenched, clenched and unclenched against the wall behind him, and more noise had started to become audible as a result of his movements. When he glanced over at the other guard again, he could see a much more obvious bulge lifting up the front of his loincloth - he had half a mind to invite that one over (gods, wouldn't that be nice: one African wild dog between my lips and another in my paw), but... that one could wait his turn.

All of a sudden there was a paw gripping his muzzle, causing the fox's ears to flatten back and his tail to bristle - but then that grip lightened a little, only holding him in place with the guard took over the movements. He kept Aren far enough away that each thrust in rolled his foreskin all the way back to fully reveal his head, and so that each tug out made it slip back forward: the fox kept his tongue against the head, intentionally pressing it against the rim of his foreskin or letting that skin roll up around it... the faint, smooth note it added to the wild dog's musk and taste made Aren's own pants feel quite a bit tighter. If only that wolf hadn't left his rump so sore...

Aren dropped one paw to rub himself through his pants and moved the other to the back of the guard's thigh for balance. Firm muscle tensed and relaxed again and again beneath his fingers in rhythm with the dog's thrusting - Aren had managed to find an angle where he could take him a little further in his muzzle, and now, the dog continually threatened to push a little further each time. It took all of the fox's willpower to focus and try not to gag or choke, but even then, small ones still came through. The guard didn't notice.

The paw holding his muzzle around the dog's shaft shifted to the back of his head, allowing Aren a little more freedom: he cupped the guard's cock in his tongue, kept his lips tight, swallowed down the little beads of pre that drooled off the end, and tried to catch his breath when he could. He was straining against his own pants - gods, how _he_wanted to share in the pleasure; maybe after this, he could drag the other guard off behind the throne and ride him, sore tail or not - and remembering how the carriage driver had done something similar to this, with Aren on the floor in front of him while he still had two families of passengers in his cart-

That paw tightened again and tugged him back down, and this time, Aren pressed down as far as he could of his own accord, resulting in his nose being pressed firmly into the guard's unkempt pubic fur. He hardly even had to swallow the resulting load: he could feel the wild dog throb, throb, throb a few times in the back of his throat, could feel the hot, thick spurts roll down, and remained down with the guard's twitching sack against his chin. When Aren did move back - he did so slowly, so that he could lap up the last of his cum that dribbled out - he rolled the dog's foreskin all the way forward over his head with a finger and thumb, and then slid his tongue underneath it and out. The guard had to lean back against the wall, chest rising and falling in shuddering breaths.

Aren leaned forward and nuzzled first the cream-colored sack and then the black length, glistening and well-slickened with saliva. He licked at the end, still dripping cum, between words: "Now may I see the King?"

The guard readjusted his shaky grip on his halberd, and half-opened his amber eyes. He licked his lips, breathed in, let out a shuddering sigh. "...No."

Aren stopped, tongue halfway under the dog's foreskin again. "What?"

"No. You've... had your fun, fox, but you still must wait your turn- wait, I'm j..."

Aren stood up, wiped his mouth - the guard watched him - and then crossed the door to the other guard. Then, still standing, he traced his paw up the dog's leg, lifted the fabric of his loincloth, brought his fingers to a gentle close first around his warm sack and then around the base of his hard length... this guard let out a light huff.

The fox looked over at the other guard, who was now fumbling with his own loincloth. He looked visibly shaken - shaken, but very, very relieved. "I guess I should have waited for an answer..." He looked back at the guard now in front of him, who had fire-yellow eyes, and again squeezed his length. "Is there any way I can convince you?"

This one licked his lips, swallowed, lifted his hips forward into Aren's paw, and nodded.