More · Tales · of · MU

…or, Deer One

Iason’s egotism aside, it really was pretty fucking amazing.

That might just have been my first taste of really angry sex, though.

Once he had me by the wrist, he held on, pulling me deeper into the woods, walking faster and then breaking into a run. The further we went, the more urgent he became. The path veered and we didn’t. Branches and undergrowth tugged at my clothes. It was like the whole forest was into me, and not too big on the foreplay.

He stopped in a small break in the trees. He let go of my wrist and I kept going. He pounced on me, tackling me to the ground. The safety enchantment on my axe is all that saved my leg, but I was sure I’d have an ugly bruise all the same.

I rolled over onto my back. He straddled me. I reached for my belt. He stopped me, grabbing my wrists.

“Do not,” he said.

“Let go, Iason,” I replied. “I’ll take my own clothes off.”

“Let me do it.”

“Let me go.”

I wrestled against him as he forced my arms to my side. We were almost matched in strength, though he was in better shape. We strained against each other, but my arms were weakening. I jerked over onto my side, pitching him off me. My hands were on my belt buckle before he’d recovered. He grabbed my shoes and pulled them off, then pulled my pants off by the legs as I pushed them down from the top.

I might have yelled rape if I hadn’t been even more desperate to get my clothes off than he was.

We almost traded blows over my shirt. He growled in frustration after I fought him off long enough to pull it off completely, and then we were on each other. He kissed my neck like he hated it. His dick was on mine, clashing like swords. We grunted and strained, parried and riposted, and then his hand grabbed my cock. He teased it, then squeezed it in his hand until I cried out and had to pull away.

My skin was hot, but his breath burned against it.

He got me down on the ground again, on my stomach. He pushed the ring onto my finger, and then he took me. He took me hard and dry, nothing for lube but a bit of spit.

It was violent. Not punching and kicking violent. Not even biting and scratching. Just forceful.

Pointed.

Percussive.

Painful.

Passionate.

When I came, it went on and on, and Iason just kept going, stabbing my ass over and over again like it owed him money. Surprisingly, having my asshole forced open and my swollen dick rubbed up against the less-than-cushiony forest floor wasn’t making me any less pissed at him.

Lying flat was not my favorite position in the best of circumstances, and this wasn’t the best of circumstances. I tried to prop myself up a bit, but Iason kept pushing me down.

There was something sexy about the whole thing. Not being pushed down to the ground, but the conflict. It added a whole layer of intensity that had been missing before. I could imagine fighting with Iason with weapons instead of hard cocks. I don’t know that the outcome would have been much different: me on the ground with precious fluid leaking out of me, his weapon buried deep in my back. Not an arousing image, but the struggle leading up to it?

That was visceral stuff, sexy in the way that dragon flight was sexy. I pictured the image of Vera flexing on my back as we writhed together, and I came again.

Iason kept going, far longer than he ever had before. He was fucking to prove a point by the end. My whole body was exhausted. My hips and shoulders hurt from attempting to push myself up so many times. He was wearing me down, grinding me into the ground literally and figuratively. He took me past the point of ‘totally mind-blowing’ to ‘lie back and think of the Mother Isles’ and then all the way back through.

He didn’t finish so much as he relented, pulling out and spilling one last spurt of seed all over my ass. I lay there panting. He sat down beside me. I think he probably couldn’t have stood, but he didn’t try.

“Was that not incredible, Iamie?” he asked after a while.

“It was,” I said, rolling over onto my back. “Let’s not do it again any time soon.”

“Why not?” he asked. “I intend to fuck you every chance I get.”

“Not like that,” I said. “Not unless you want to carry me back to campus after we’re finished. Which, no.”

He grinned.

“I could,” he said.

“I know you could,” I said. I slipped the ring off and sat up so I could get my silver chain off my neck and slip it onto it. “But you’re not going to.”

“You are so bossy,” Iason said. “Don’t do this, don’t do that. You are lucky you’re so pretty, Iamie.”

“Say that again,” I said, settling back down.

“You are lucky.”

“Try again.”

“You’re bossy,” he said, lying down alongside me. While I was naked, he was fully dressed except for his cock hanging out. He leaned against me so that it was on my thigh.

“One more try,” I said.

“You are pretty,” he said, kissing my cheek. Annoyed—pissed—as I was, I melted a little.

“My pretty ass is going to feel like hamburger when the glow wears off,” I said.

I was speaking from prior experience, though I’d never had sex that brutal. Especially not with somebody equipped like Iason. It would have been worse if he’d had more girth, like a well-hung human. Like my guy from the dance, the way I pictured him. My poor abused cock lurched back to life at the thought.

“You are insatiable,” Iason said, reaching out and touching it with the back of his hand.

“I want to fuck other guys, Iason,” I said again, while the image of the hot guy was fresh in both my heads.

“A lesser man would be worried that this is the subject on your mind even immediately after being fucked within an inch of your life,” he said. “But did we not just have this conversation?”

“I’m not used to being on the bottom all the time,” I said.

He put his hand around my cock and gave it a gentle pull.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said. “We have years and years ahead of us.”

“For one thing, I like fucking boys,” I said as he settled into giving my half-hard shaft a slow handjob. “I mean, fucking them. If you don’t want me to be with other guys, you might have to expand your horizons.”

He stopped mid-stroke.

“If you were any other boy, I would thrash you in a duel for even suggesting that,” he said.

“I’m serious, Iason,” I said. “I like a nice ass as much as you do. If you don’t want to take a turn, you need to let me find somebody who will.”

“You only think you want that,” he said, resuming the motion. “You’ll learn, just like you’ll learn to let me undo your clothing.”

“Why do you care how my pants get off of me?”

“If I bring down a deer, I dress it myself,” he said.

“You’re going to fuck things up for yourself for the sake of overextending a metaphor,” I said. I flung out an arm to find the edge of my jeans. My cigarettes fell out of the pocket while I was dragging them towards me. “Shit,” I said. I groped for them.

“Don’t,” Iason said.

“Don’t start.”

“You don’t need them,” he said.

“Tell that to my body,” I said.

“They are a poor substitute for what your mouth truly craves,” he said.

“Right now, my mouth craves a cigarette. I don’t even want to look at your dick after that kind of pounding.”

“Leave them, and I’ll show you the second amazing thing,” he said.

“That wasn’t just talk?” I asked.

“No, Iamie,” he said. He let go of my cock—which for all his efforts hadn’t come all the way back to life—and sat up. “It wasn’t.”

He got up and started gathering my clothes, balling up my jeans and underwear, and then wrapping them and my shoes up in my shirt.

“Here, just give me those,” I said, sitting up and reaching for them. He shook his head and held the bundle away.

“I do not think this will work if you are not naked,” he said. He picked up my belt and slung it over his shoulder. “In any event, it will be better to try it in clothing I know you would not mind losing.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

He tucked the ball of clothes under his arm, so he had both hands mostly free. He stooped down at my side and took my hand in both of his, fingering the bracelet on my wrist.

“Do you know what this is, Iamie?” he asked,

“You tell me,” I said. “You said it was an heirloom.”

“It is,” he said. “It is one of a set. Very few survive, or at least, very few remain in elven hands.”

“So what is it?”

“When elves first discovered the tribes of men, we thought you were a gift from the gods,” Iason said. “Elven warriors would slip behind the gated fences of human settlements and take the comeliest youths as prizes. ‘Flickering jewels’, they were called—beauty as fleeting as snowflakes or delicate flowers.”

“Yeah, I know the stories,” I said. “Or the history, I should say, though it isn’t really the most fashionable part of human-elven race relations to talk about these days.”

“Hush, Iamie, while I’m speaking,” he said. He put his hand over the image of the stag. “One order of warriors, in order that they might become all the closer to their ephemeral paramours, had crafted a set of bracelets to let them experience a far deeper bond than that of mere lovers.”

“I’m not sure I like where this is going,” I said. I knew the bracelet was not removable. Iason had claimed it would let him find me if he wanted to. Any “bond” that went deeper than that was going to be a case of way too far, way too fast. “Iason, you said you weren’t thinking when you gave this to me.”

“I was not,” he said. “No thought was required. The moment I saw you in class—the first time I saw your beautiful face, the first time I beheld your pert backside—I knew exactly what my grandfather had been talking about when he gave the cuff to me.”

“What does it do, Iason?” I asked. “Is it a marriage thing?”

He laughed.

“I’m not talking about the flimsy bonds which tie a husband to his spouse, Iamie,” he said. “I’m speaking of something far more important, more primal; the bond between hunter and prey, between rider and mount.” He gave my forehead a stroke, and then I—I shifted.

I mean that in more than one sense: my position and perspective changed, and so did I. I could feel it. My arms lengthened. My legs became thin and powerful. There was a painful eruption—a pair of them—from the top of my skull. I could feel a tingling all over my skin. My eyes slid around in my head. My field of vision became wider, but the world lost definition and color. My ears and nose both pricked up.

I felt like I was bent over, or crouching, but I knew I was standing upright. I turned to Iason in confusion, and saw that he was the only thing in sight that had kept any color. He seemed to lit by a golden radiance from above, like a column of light stretching down from the heavens. His devastating handsomeness hit me like a physical blow. He looked at me with an expression of wonder that mirrored what I felt as I looked at upon him.

He reached out and stroked my face, from between my antlers down the length of my muzzle. I froze at his touch. He walked around beside me, a hand on my coat. He bunched his fingers up in my short mane, and my body tensed in anticipation, but then he released the grip. He brushed his fingers down my side, then stroked my haunches. I stood there on four legs, thrilled and fearful at his touch, waiting. For what? I wouldn’t know until he did it. He bent down and lifted each of my cloven feet in turn, flexing my legs and inspecting the hooves.

Finally satisfied, he raised up a hand gave me a powerful swat on the behind, and I was off, running headlong through the forest.

Discuss This Chapter On The Forum