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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