Usual disclaimers apply. The following contains male-to-male sex.
If you are under age or such reading is illegal in your country,
please go elsewhere. Otherwise, please enjoy.
Charon was tired when he got home. These last few days had been brutal. With only two days before the championship the coach had them practice even harder, and longer. He chuckled slightly, if he wasn’t careful none of them would have the energy needed to even play the game.
Not that he’d admit to being too tired to play. Hunt wasn’t just his future career, it was his life. He was determined to win the game even if that meant practicing to exhaustion.
The smell inside the house spoke of meat being cooked about an hour before. “You’re home early,” he said, seeing his father in the living room, watching the vid.
Harstall looked up while lowering the volume. “No, you’re home late. How was practice?”
Charon took his pad out and looked at the time; almost midnight. Had practice really gone on that long? “It was good. We’re going to shred the other team.”
Harstall smiled and stood. “Good. You’d better grab something to eat and head to bed, you still have classes in the morning.”
The younger tiger nodded and took a step toward the kitchen before turning back. “Dad?” he said, “have you had unprotected sex before?” Questions had been in his head since Arzas had brought it up, and he didn’t know who else to ask.
Harstall raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit of a personal question, isn’t it? What brought it up?”
“Azras mentioned that it’d be a lot more intense for me if we didn’t use a condom. I was wondering if it was true.”
“You’re using protection?” Harstall said, surprised.
“Yeah, we’re not ready for cubs yet so I don’t want to risk it. Maybe in a few years, once both our careers are established.”
His father smiled at him and affectionately grabbed him by the shoulders. “I’m happy to know I raised a responsible young male. And yes, I’ve had unprotected sex before.”
“And was it really better?”
Harstall chuckled and guided his son to the kitchen. “Sometime, sex has as much to do with your emotions than with the physical stimulation. So yes, it feels better, but that doesn’t mean the sex’s going to be any better.”
He took a pack of meat from the fridge and lobbed it to Charon. “Here, dig in.” He took the jug of real blood and sniffed it before putting it on the table. He leaned back against the fridge and watched Charon rip the meat apart.
Charon leaned back in his chair once he’d finished off the meat and blood. “I’ve been thinking about trying it.”
“With who? One of your friends at the academy?”
Charon shook his head. “No. I don’t know how careful they normally are, and I doubt they’d want to raise their tails. I’m the one who normally does it.”
“Since it won’t be the pantheress, who then?”
Charon looked away for a moment, when he looked at his father to speak his voice was soft and hesitant. “I was hoping to do it with you.”
Harstall looked at him in stunned silence for a few seconds before closing his mouth. He took a chair and sat next to his son. He took Charon’s hands in his and looked into his hopeful eyes. “I . . . I can’t.”
“Why not?” Charon asked, “you like it and you know me so what’s the problem?”
“You’re my son,” Harstall said softly.
“What . . .” the younger tiger started to say, but his father silenced him by gently placing a finger on his lips.
“I . . .,” Harstall couldn’t actually say it. “The way I feel about you Char. If we do this I won’t be able to think of you as just my son. It wouldn’t be just sex for me. You already have someone in your live that you love dearly, and I wouldn’t be able to share you with her.”
Charon looked at his father, slightly hurt at the refusal, but more surprised and a little confused at what he was admitting to him. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, and he couldn’t say if he wanted to try to convince his father to have sex with him just so he could know what it was like, or tell him that it was ok, that he understood.
Harstall squeezed his son’s hand slightly. “Wait for the right time. When you and your Panth . . ., when you and Azras are ready it will make it that much better. Believe me, there’s no hurry.”
Charon was silent for a moment. “I’d better go to bed,” he said finally.
Harstall kissed his forehead. “Sleep well.”
* * * * *
Harstall stood and cheered with the rest of the crowd as one of their interceptor took out one from the opposing team who’d tried to tackle their hunter. The hyena raised both arms in the air in response to the crowd as he moved away from the downed wolf.
The game was played on a field a hundred eighty feet by eighty. At each end of the field was a fifteen feet circle. That was the team’s home, where their prey resided. The prey had two guardians who had to stay on their half of the field, but outside of the house. Each team had three interceptors who could go anywhere on the field except the homes, and one hunter who had free reign of the field.
It was just past the halfway mark and their team was currently down two kills to three. Since this was a game they weren’t real kills, a kill was achieved when a hunter took the opposing prey back to his own team’s home. Like in real life the prey could defend himself, but unlike there, in the game the role of prey was most often played by a predator so the fights in the houses tended to be vicious.
Players didn’t wear anything other than shirt and pants, those were there so the audience could tell who was on which team, and not for protection so each team had twice the amount of player in reserve they had on the field. Since the rules stated that neither teams couldn’t have more than seven people on the field at anytime if someone was knocked out he couldn’t be replaced until he either regained consciousness and crawled off the field or one of the other players dragged him off.
Harstall had played hunt, as a hunter, when he was at the academy, but never with the dedication his son had for it. One of his team’s more successful tactic had been to try to knock out the opposing hunter in their home since no one else could enter it that gave them the advantage for a while.
It was still an approved tactic, but the rules had been changed slightly since his time so that now the prey couldn’t weight more than a hundred fifty pounds. It was explained as being a more realistic weight for a prey, but everyone knew it was really so the game would be played on the whole field again instead of just in the homes.
Harstall winced for his son as Charon was tackled by one of the other team’s defender. The young tiger rolled, kicked the bear off and was up, catching up to his hunter to intercept the other defender and allow the lion to enter the opposition’s home, where he faced off with a sinewy fox.
While the massive lion tried to take down the faster fox Charon had to avoid getting too hurt by the two defenders. He couldn’t expect help since his other team mates were busy dealing with the other hunter and three interceptors who had decided to rush their home.
Charon received a glancing blow from the bear who had tacked him before and lost his balance, fortunately before a second blow came the lion was out of the house with the fox over his shoulder and punched the bear. Charon shook his head as the crowd cheered and ran after the lion. Now that they had the prey the other team was going to do all they could to take them down and bring their prey back. The prey wasn’t allowed to move when he was outside the home, even if he was conscious.
Harstall couldn’t hear the lion’s roar over the crowd, but it was obvious on his face. Both teams could also hear it and everyone moved toward him. The lion’s team mates jumping on the opposing players and allowing him to drop the fox in his home, next to they badger.
With the kill made official each team got five minutes to rearrange their lineup and see to the injured. Harstall saw Charon talk with his coach before sitting down on the bench; he’d taken himself out of the game so he could rest properly before going back in. Charon was the academy interceptor with the most field time this year because he knew when to take a break, unlike the hyena who went back on the field after a quick discussion with the coach.
Harstall kept an eye on his son while he continues watching the game. A medic saw to him, cleaned some blood off and checked what had to be sore spots. When Charon went back on the field, twenty minutes later, to replace the hyena who barely managed to crawl off, his team had scored another kill. He played fifteen of the next thirty minutes, during which neither team managed to score.
Harstall was yelling as loud as the rest of the crowd at their team’s victory. On the field the players from both team met and shook hands. Over the roar of the crowd the announcer made the victory official and went through the best players of the game. Charon was again the interceptor with the most field time.
Harstall did a quick run down the stand. As Charon’s father he was allowed by the field as the players left. Charon limped to him as soon as he saw him there.
“Great game Char. Make sure you enjoy the party, you’ve earned it.”
* * * * *
Harstall didn’t go home after the game instead he went to a pleasure house. His way to celebrate the team’s victory, he told himself, but the truth was that he needed to do something to force the image of him and Charon having sex together out of his head.
Sure, it wasn’t a new image. After finding his son’s dildo he imagined the two of them fooling around every so often, but ever since Charon had approached him for it, and he’d refused the image had become much more insistent.
Seeing Charon dominate the field during the game hadn’t helped. The younger tiger was the perfect image of a virile male at his peek and Harstall couldn’t deny how attractive that made him. He had been lucky his son hadn’t forcefully insisted after his refusal, because Harstall didn’t think he would have been able to refuse him.
Harstall didn’t want to be ‘the other lover’; the one who ruined the relationship. It was one of his strict rules; he didn’t have sex with someone already involved. It was normally easy to say no if someone like that approached him. It didn’t matter how horny he might be, he didn’t feel anything deep for them, but the way he felt about Charon. . . .
He would buckle under his son with very little resistance and that could be very dangerous. He couldn’t do much about the way he felt, so he had to do what he could to make sure he wasn’t too horny.
So he came here. It wasn’t one of the places he usually came to; actually he rarely went to pleasure houses anymore. He didn’t have to, he had friends he could go to have sex, but right now he didn’t think any of his friends could do what needed done.
He paid the admission fee an entered the house. Most pleasure houses worked under the same general principle. You paid to get in and then you looked for someone to share your pleasure with, but then each houses had specific rules you had to adhere to. Some houses required specific attire, others, type of play and some restricted species.
Harstall walked through the lobby, breathing in the scent and taking in the sights. There was no pretence that this was anything other than a pleasure house. Males were spread over the various couches in various state of undress. Clothes were all over the place, some neatly folder while others thrown half hazzardly over the back of a couch or on the floor. The tiger walked by a timber wolf giving a slender bull a massage on his way to the back room, and a caracal knelt between the legs of a lop rabbit, pleasuring him.
Harstall left he lobby and entered a darkened corridor. It lead to the backroom and the area of the house where the more intense games were played. In the corridor he was eyed by an antelope and a horse, but neither made moves to attract his attention since they were already occupied with a partner.
The back room was large, a darker version of the lobby. The couches were occupied similarly, but some of the clothing strewed about the room showed signed of being ripped off a body instead of just taken off. There was also the light scent of blood floating in the air and the sounds of whips coming from adjoining room, accompanied by whimpering and sometime scream.
Harstall was still taking in the scene when a strong arm wrapped itself around his neck and pulled tightly. The tiger’s reflex was to claw the arm, fight his way out of the hold and make his attacker pay, but he held it in check. In this house he had no say in what happened; he was nothing. In this house the predator was prey.
“Do you remember what I said I’d do to you if you ever showed up here again?” whispered a deep voice in his ear as he tightened his hold some more.
Harstall could hardly breathe, let alone answer the buck so he nodded, ears splayed against his head. He hadn’t expected *him* to still be around.
The deer squeezed his ass roughly and pushed him forward a few steps. “I never thought you’d have the guts.” The deer said. “You, queen,” he called to a lion curled up against a wall, “come here and undo his pants.”
The lion looked up at them with fearful eyes before standing and hesitatingly moving toward them. His mane had been roughly sheered off and there were numerous signs of cuts on his body, old and new. He reached the end of the chain attached to the leather collar around his neck and stretched his arms trying to get to the tiger’s belt, but couldn’t quite go it.
“Come on slut, I don’t have all day.”
The lion looked at him plaintively for a moment before pulling against the chain harder. The collar to dug in his neck harder, preventing him from breathing. The lion’s fingers barely managed to reach the belt and he fumbled it as he undid it. With the belt undone he unbuttoned and unzipped the pants, then pulling them down to the tiger’s knees before falling back and crumbling to the floor, panting heavily.
“Pathetic,” the deer said. “Get out of your pants,” he told Harstall.
The tiger did as he was told and the deer pushed him forward. As they walked by the lion the buck shoved him away harshly with a snort. “That thing of yours needs to be better trained,” he said to a bull that was fucking a coyote on a couch.
The bull looked at the lion sprawled on the floor. “They always do,” was his only reply, not even bothering to slow down his thrusting.
The deer guided Harstall in one of the side rooms and released him with a push before closing and locking the door.
Harstall stumbled forward and regained his footing. He turned at looked at the deer. He hadn’t really changed in the years since he’d last seen him. Only a few more scars marred his muscular body. They were about the same height from head to toe, but the antlers gave the deer a good extra foot and a half on him. He had the body of someone who worked out constantly, causing his muscles to bulge with every motion. Is hands were thick and meaty, just like his cock. It was semi hard already; he was looking forward to this.
Harstall wasn’t quite as much.
“You know what I want,” the deer stated as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Harstall nodded, intending to get to feel that big cock inside him this time.
“You give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want.” The buck’s cock jumped a little to illustrate what he meant. “You don’t and all you’re going to get is another beating.”
The tiger took his shirt off and threw it in the corner. What the buck wanted was simple. He wanted a fight, a real one, but one that he would win. The last time they’d fought the deer had decided Harstall hadn’t been serious about it so he’d just walked out, leaving the tiger bruised and bloodied on the floor.
This time he wasn’t going to be left unsatisfied. With claws unsheathed he ran at the buck and swiped at his chest. The deer avoided the strike and tried to hit the tiger in return, but Harstall moved out of the way.
For a few minutes they exchanged blows, none of them really connected. The deer was better them most prey from years of experience defending himself against predators, but he was still unskilled. His technique consisted of blocking, dodging and striking, he didn’t try to plan, to anticipate what his opponent might do; he simply reacted.
Typical prey, Harstall thought, and then immediately squashed it.
“Come on,” the deer said, “if you really want this you’re going to have to do better than this. We’re not two cubs play fighting here.”
Harstall let a growl escape. He did want it and since the deer couldn’t raise his skill it was his job to make this fight want the buck wanted. He had to reign his instinct just enough so he wouldn’t win, but do it in a way the other fighter wouldn’t be able to tell he was doing it.
What Harstall needed was training in mock fighting like they had on the vids instead of actual experience killing prey. He lounged at the buck and hoped he could pull it off since not being able to control his instinct would mean he’d kill the deer. Then he’d get beaten up and he would have to deal with the tax. He had no idea what this male was worth. If he couldn’t be convincing enough all he’d get was hurt again.
The tiger forced himself to fight larger and harder than he had to; to put on the best show he could as he threw punched and swipes at the deer and took blows in return. Harstall had no idea how long the fight lasted. He was too focused on controlling his attacks to keep track of time.
The deer struck him across the face and Harstall went down. He scrambled to get up as fast as he could but his arms were shaking from exhaustion. He had managed to make it to all fours when the buck put a foot on his back and forced him back down.
The deer replaced the foot with a knee and then grabbed the tiger’s headfur, pulling his head up. “Do you feel that?” he asked in an angry voice, “that’s despair at knowledge that your life is in someone else’s hand. That’s what my kind feels every time we walk the street. Every time we see one of you we have to wonder if that’s going to be the day we’re going to become food. I should kill you for what you put us through.” He shoved the tiger’s muzzle in the floor, let go of him and stood.
Harstall groaned in pain and rubbed his sensitive nose. He didn’t have time to wonder if that meant he was to get his ass pounding or not that he felt the deer pull his tail up and push his legs apart.
The buck didn’t say anything as he kneeled between the tiger’s legs and lined up his cock with the asshole. He shoved it all in at once without any regards for the tiger’s protests.
Harstall stifled a yell of pain as the thick deer shaft plowed him. The buck didn’t give him any time to get used to it; he started fucking him hard and fast. The pain didn’t stay long, and while the tiger wasn’t one to admit it he did enjoy it rough sometime. His groan of pain slowly turned into moans of pleasure as his ass was stretched and his cock was ground between the smooth floor and his stomach. His voice mixed with the buck’s grunts every time he shoved his cock deep inside the tiger, fucking him hard and fast.
Harstall lets the sensations flow through him and build until he reached orgasm. His body tensed under the buck, who simply grunted louder as the ass he was fucking became tighter. The tiger groaned as the continued stimulation prolonged his orgasm to the point that his head started spinning.
He was barely aware of it when the deer finally came, and then rolled off him. When Harstall became fully conscious the deer was gone and the door was opened.
He grabbed his shirt and pants as he made his way to the showers. No one bothered him since he smelled well used. He took a private stall and locked it; he didn’t want to be bothered. He took his time washing, feeling where the bruises were and cleaning his cuts.
When he was cleaned and dressed he called one of the ride services and went home, where he feel asleep as soon as he hit the mattress.
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