The Son of Alar

Chapter 3

Philip’s senses were nearly overwhelmed by the festive atmosphere. Squirrels of all sorts gathered in the palace ballroom to pay their respects to the princess and her fiancé, and the variety of costumes and dialects boggled the young baron’s mind. Even his fathers were nearly unrecognizeable in their formal attire. Adam was tastefully dressed as always, with a subdued red vest over a white shirt and a matching pair of trousers. A contrasting green cloak finished the look perfectly. What astonished him more by far was to see Alar dressed in very dark blue trousers, a doublet of matching velvet, a bright red sash beneath his polished sword belt, and a broad-brimmed hat turned up on one side with a huge black-and-white plume stuck in the band. He looked every inch the lord of a vast estate for once. And in spite of himself, Philip was actually proud to be related to such a fine-looking squirrel.

The young buck was no ragamuffin either. Wearing the custom-tailored gold and green outfit that Adam had made for him, he felt nearly on par with most of the other noble squirrels around him. Whatever he may have lacked in fancy adornments, he more than made up for with his personal appearance. Adam’s hours of fussing over his tail and head tuft had certainly paid off. No one would ever think him a country bumpkin at first glance.

The first proof of this was when a dignified squirrel wearing a dark green shirt and a red sash like his father’s strode up in the company of the princess. He stood rigidly to attention before Alar and lowered his head slightly.

“Good evening, Lord Alar, sir,” spoke the princess. “And to you, Lord Adam. Please allow me to introduce to you my fiancé, Lord Athos of Goldwater.”

“Pleased to meet you at last, sir,” spoke the young lord. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“We’ve heard many fine things about you as well, my lord,” spoke Alar, shaking his paw firmly and, as Philip could tell from long years of observation, taking his measure of the squirrel at the same time. “Yours is a family of good repute. Besides, they say that a squirrel raised on the golden waters of the north cannot speak but truth.”

“We do our best to uphold that tradition,” replied Athos modestly.

“Well, speak truth to the people of this country, and you will make a fine prince of the realm someday,” spoke Adam.

“Thank you, sir,” said Athos, shaking his paw as well.

“Come, my lord,” said Trina, tugging at Athos’s arm. “Let us go and greet our other guests. Enjoy your evening, my good barons! I do hope you’ll join us for the carriage rides later.”

“Thank you, Your Highness!” bade Adam. “We shall try.”

“Please, no more carriages for a few days,” muttered Alar when they had gone.

“Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure we won’t be missed if we lose ourselves in other festivities.”

Fagan and Ambrosia approached next. The queen curtsied, and the three barons bowed.

“You’re looking lovely this evening, Ambrosia,” said Adam.

“Well, I should, considering our royal tailor is the second best in Kentros,” replied Ambrosia.

Adam smiled and flicked his tail modestly.

“So, you’ve met the young prince-to-be,” spoke Fagan. “What do you think of the fine fellow?”

“He is as you say, a fine fellow,” replied Alar. “I think your daughter is well matched.”

The king and queen nodded, and Philip thought, appeared to relax just a bit, as though they had been anxious about their friend’s response for some reason. Again Ambrosia looked in Philip’s direction without speaking, though only briefly this time.

“Well, we must be off to entertain our guests,” said Ambrosia. “We’ll talk again in a bit.”

“Of course, Your Majesty!” replied Adam as the royal pair strode away.

The king and queen officially opened the festivities with a short speech. Thereafter the dancing began with the reigning couple themselves, followed by the princess and Lord Athos, then various other noble couples. Even Alar had to join Adam for propriety’s sake, though he had never liked dancing. Philip had to agree with him, and stifled a laugh watching one father stumble about next to the other, infinitely more graceful one. Alar was glad when the first waltz ended, after which he let Adam continue to dance with various ladies on the floor while he and Fagan went to get a drink from the refreshment table and talk about old times. Thus, Philip was left to amuse himself, though not for long, as Prince Ambrose soon came up and threw a friendly arm about his shoulder.

“Good evening, dear Phil!” he spoke. “I may call you Phil, right? Good, good. Hope you’re enjoying the evening.”

“Of course,” replied Philip.

“Care to come get a drink? I’ll introduce you to some friends of mine.”

“Sure!”

The two young bucks worked their way through the crowd to the table where all sorts of drinks were laid out and overseen by a very officious squirrel in formal attire who looked as though smiling would break his face. Ambrose walked up to another red squirrel and tapped her shoulder.

“Diana! How charming to see you here.”

“Likewise, Your Highness,” she replied with a curtsy. “Who’s your friend here?”

“This is Philip, son of the barons Alar and Adam of Red Fields.”

“Ooh, a baron’s son, eh? And so fair at that.” She held out a paw.

Philip chuckled nervously, but managed to bend over and kiss the proffered paw.

“Philip, this is Lady Diana, daughter of the Duke of Arios.”

“Pleased to meet your ladyship,” spoke the young buck.

“No more than I, good Philip,” she replied with a smile and, Philip thought, a flirtatious twitch of the tail. She was very beautiful, even he had to admit. From her silken green dress to her matching green eyes and the golden pendant she wore about her neck. It was shaped like two snakes devouring each other. A most unusual design, he thought, but exquisitely wrought nonetheless.

“That’s lovely necklace you’ve got on,” he said.

“Oh, thank you. It’s a…good luck charm of sorts.”

“I say, where’s Rory got to?” wondered Ambrose aloud.

“Here, Your Highness,” came a voice from the side. They turned to see a young gray squirrel with smiling eyes, and Ambrose exclaimed, “Ah, good! There you are. I’d like you to meet my new friend, the baron-to-be Philip.”

“Pleasure to see you again,” said Rory, shaking the stunned Philip’s paw.

“You! But what…How?”

“You two have met?” spoke Ambrose.

“Well, not formally, but we crossed paths briefly yesterday,” explained Rory.

“Ah, very good. As I was saying Philip, this is Rory.”

“Pleased to finally meet you for real,” said Philip, feeling far more than pleased without knowing why. “But how do you come to be here? Are you a lord’s son?”

“Not exactly. I hold no title per se, but am the apprentice of Lord Halos.”

“Halos the court mage?” Philip asked, wide-eyed.

Rory nodded modestly. “Yeah. I have certain…abilities.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” said Ambrose, patting the gray squirrel on the back. “Rory here can do more than simple card tricks. He’ll make a fine court mage himself one of these days. Perhaps even the greatest.”

“Your Highness is too kind.”

A look passed between the three that was completely missed by Philip in his fascination with Rory.

“Well, Diana, how would you like to have another dance with me?” spoke Ambrose.

“Gladly, my lord,” replied the young duchess, taking his paw.

“We shall leave the two of you to talk for a bit.”

Ere either could respond, the couple had gone. They stood there awkwardly for a moment, neither completely sure what to say. They each took a sip from their glasses, then Rory spoke.

“So, first time in the palace?”

“Yeah,” admitted Philip.

“How do you like it?”

“I love it. I’ve never seen anything so grand or beautiful living to the south.”

“Red Fields isn’t a magnificent estate, then?”

“Oh, it’s big, but most of it is just woods or fields. Nothing you could point to as spectacular, really. The only buildings are the barn and the little cottage we call home.”

“Ahh, you live with the barons, then.”

Philip nodded. “Of course.”

“Two fathers. That must be very interesting.”

“That’s one word for it, yeah.” For the first time, Philip felt a tad embarrassed at the fact. He hoped Rory didn’t think less of him for having such an unusual family, but the young gray just smiled.

“You get along with them pretty well, then?”

“Well enough, I guess. Especially me and Adam.”

“Adam. He’s the shorter one with the green eyes, right?”

“Yeah. He’s a lot nicer and more understanding than my other dad.”

“Alar?”

Again, Philip nodded. “He’s always reprimanding me, always telling me to do this or that as if I’m not capable of thinking for myself.”

“Maybe he’s just worried about you,” suggested Rory.

“That’s what my other dad always says, but I don’t believe it. He never bossed my older brother around like he does with me.”

“You’ve a brother?”

“Oh yes. Tuck. He lives here in Parras. Just a couple blocks away, in fact. Along with his wife and their newborn daughter.”

“Interesting…” Rory paused for a moment. “I don’t suppose they’ve lined you up with anyone yet?”

“What?”

“You know, for marriage.”

“No. And truth be told, I don’t think I’d want anything to do with someone my father had a paw in picking.”

Rory nodded sympathetically. “I understand. I don’t know if I’m exactly the marrying type either.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. If I’m completely honest…” He leaned forward and whispered in Philip’s ear. “I’m not really that interested in does.”

“Really? Nor am I.”

“Learned that from your dads, did you?” said Rory with a wink.

“Not really. Does have just never been that interesting to me. I’ve had my chances with a few, and always passed them up without a second thought. Unlike my brother, who was always chasing tail in his youth.”

Rory chuckled. It was a light, airy sound, so heartfelt and infectious that Philip couldn’t help smiling too.

“So, you’re not into does,” Rory resumed. “I suppose that means you’re…”

Philip nodded. “Yeah.”

“Well, nothing wrong with that. Whatever floats your fancy, I always say. Heck, even Captain Corryn there isn’t as straight as he comes off.”

“Yeah, I kind of noticed.”

They laughed and paused for another sip, then Rory spoke again.

“Must be kind of nice, in a way.”

“What?”

“Living on a rural estate with all those big strong farm laborers around.”

Philip chuckled nervously.

“Come on, you’re telling me you’ve never been the least bit tempted?”

“Of course I have!”

“Mhmm. And? Any you’re especially fond of?”

“Eh. Well, there is one. He and I are kind of close.”

“Oh. I take it you and he have…”

Philip nodded. “Not all the way, but yeah.”

“I see.”

“But it’s nothing too serious,” Philip added hastily without knowing why. “I mean, we’re pretty open and all that.”

Rory nodded. “Best way, if you ask me. It’s far too restricting to get all tied down with things like marriage. Especially when you’re young, you know?”

“Well, I suppose I wouldn’t mind marrying someday. But I agree, best not to get tied down too soon.”

Rory winked. “That’s the spirit. Got to live a little while you can. Speaking of which, er…” He put his glass down and leaned forward again. “I’m not overly fond of dancing or carriage rides, myself. Are you?”

“Not especially.”

“Well then, I was just thinking, if you’d like, maybe we could find a little more diverting entertainment somewhere else. Somewhere away from all the noise and action.”

Philip paused for a moment. Could this squirrel, whom he had only just met, be suggesting…In spite of himself, he felt a little tingle of excitement. And despite his father’s cautionary words—or perhaps because of them—he allowed himself the slightest nod.

“Sure.”

“Let’s head to my room, shall we? It’s nice and quiet.”

“Sounds great! Let’s go.”

So, keeping an eye on his father, who was firmly ensconced at the drink table swapping stories with Fagan and Trellon about “the old days” (Alar had never fallen into the habit of calling them “good”), Philip followed Rory. The two young bucks skirted their way around the edge of the room to the door just to be on the safe side, but Alar no longer seemed to be concerned with keeping an eye on his son. With that comforting thought, they slipped out the door.

“Come on!” Rory said, tapping him on the shoulder.

Together they walked briskly through the short passage to the main parlor, then up the stairs and down the guest corridors. They passed Philip’s room and proceeded several doors down. Rory opened the door, and they slipped inside, hearts beating rapidly. They quickly closed and locked the door. Rory turned and opened the curtains, allowing moonlight to flood into the otherwise dim chamber.

“Oh, drat! I forgot they were getting ready for the carriage rides right down there,” he said, shaking his head.

Philip joined him at the window and looked out for a moment, then shrugged

“No worries. Noise doesn’t bother me too much.”

Rory’s tail shot up with excitement. “That’s good. ‘Cause I’ve a feeling we might be making a little ourselves before too long.” Rory gently brushed Philip’s cheek.

Philip raised his gaze to meet Rory’s. His muzzle smiled to match his eyes, and Philip couldn’t help but smile back. There was such warmth and friendliness in that gaze, in his touch, in every aspect of the young gray that he was hardly surprised to find his lips pressed tightly against his own. He welcomed it, enjoyed it with every fiber of his being. Rory was a more aggressive kisser than he was used to, his tongue probing its new surroundings almost immediately. But again, he welcomed it.

After a short while, Rory broke off their kiss, allowing Philip to regain his breath as he leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Ready for the good part?”

Philip hesitated for a split second, but the wonderful warmth flooding through his body in that moment would not be denied, and he nodded rapidly.

“All right,” said Rory, brushing whiskers with him for a second before reaching down to undo the buttons on Philip’s vest. “Let me help you out of that.”

Philip allowed Rory to unbutton his entire vest with quick, deft movements. The thought flitted through his mind that the gray must be very practiced at this sort of thing. Within seconds the vest was off, and but a short time after, his shirt. Rory paused a moment to admire his newly uncovered prize and run his paws up and down Philip’s torso, savoring every muscular ripple. He nodded with satisfaction.

“All those years of farm work have certainly made you strong, haven’t they?”

Philip was too flushed to speak, but smiled and licked Rory’s muzzle in response.

“Mmm, guess I’d better join you,” spoke Rory, stepping back to remove his own doublet and shirt. They stood for a moment admiring the gleam of one another’s dazzling white chests in the moonlight.

“What’s this?” asked Philip, noticing a shiny black pendant hanging from Rory’s neck.

“Oh, nothing,” said Rory, removing it quickly and tossing it aside. Philip was halfway inclined to ask more, but as Rory engaged him in another, more passionate kiss, he forgot all about it. Their paws ran almost instinctively along one another’s sides, feeling every solid curve and ridge beneath their fur. Philip was very much in his element. Only days ago he had been doing this with Ferrell, but it felt like forever. He had definitely missed it. More even, perhaps, than Ferrell himself?

His thoughts were interrupted as Rory’s paw strayed lower and he looked down.

“Time to free this fellow, I think,” he said, cupping the solid bulge in Philip’s trousers with a paw.

Philip chuckled lightly. Part of him wanted to object, to say this little escapade had gone far enough. But the stronger part very much desired to carry things as far as they could go. And so, he allowed Rory to undo the buttons of his fly. Nor did he object as Rory got down on his knees and quickly, expertly slid his trousers and undershorts down to his ankles in one fluid movement.

“Ahh, there we go,” said the gray with definite satisfaction on seeing his sizeable quarry. “That’s more like it.”

Philip tensed up instinctively as Rory took hold of his throbbing member and applied his tongue to it. It felt so good, so right. It was every bit as good as Ferrell’s work, but far more nuanced. This squirrel knew what he was doing.

He did his best to relax and enjoy the feel of Rory’s veteran tongue and paw work, gently stroking the gray between his ears. Rory’s flicking tail and increased probing at his tail hole showed his appreciation of the gesture. After a short while, he settled back into gentler licks to keep Philip from coming too soon. As he did, he reached down with the paw that had been fondling Philip’s tail hole to undo the buttons of his own fly. In a matter of seconds he had finished and managed to free his own erect member from its cloth prison.

“Now that’s more like it,” he sighed as he resumed his work on Philip’s maleness while gently stroking his own. He carried on like this for several minutes, bringing his partner halfway, then slowing down, then speeding up again. The last time he stopped, he let go of Philip entirely.

“What’s wrong?” asked the red, opening his eyes.

“My jaw’s getting a little tired,” replied Rory. “What say we take this to the finish?”

Ere Philip could even reply, he had stood up, slipped out of his trousers entirely, and stepped over to the bed. He looped his arms around Philip’s neck, then led him into another kiss. As Philip engaged, he felt Rory’s weight tugging downward. Unable and unwilling to resist, he fell onto the bed beside him. Amid their kissing and caressing, Rory managed to work himself into a position on top of Philip. Breaking off for a moment, he reached down to align both their members, then pressed down.

Philip at once felt a rush of sensations throughout his body. Aside from Rory’s weight and the probing of his tongue into his muzzle, the press of the gray’s d**k against his own was the ultimate delight. The raw flesh of another buck’s maleness was undoubtedly the most wonderful feeling in the world. His blood ran hot and his erection even hotter as Rory began thrusting. He had spent so long refraining from this, so long constraining himself in the presence of his parents that to feel this level of intimacy again…

Words failed him. All he could do was emit short grunts and groans from deep within his throat. The noises only seemed to further excite Rory, who sped up his thrusting and pressed his lips against Philip’s until their incisors clacked together, probing his muzzle as deeply as he could as though seeking the source of those exquisite sounds. Philip responded in kind, wrapping his arms and legs around his partner to pull him as close as physically possible.

There came a grunt from Rory, followed by a storm of rapid thrusts. He felt the warm, wet sensation of the gray’s seed spreading all over his groin area. He relished every second, every glorious burst from the other buck’s loins for as long as it lasted. When Rory was utterly spent, he broke off their kiss and rose, chest heaving with the effort.

“I don’t usually come that fast,” he panted. “Something about you must’ve really got me going.” He gave Philip’s muzzle a lick, causing him to chuckle modestly.

“So now what?” asked Philip, not even opening his eyes.

“Well, now to finish, of course,” replied Rory, raising himself up onto his knees. He realigned their c***s and continued thrusting and stroking. The warm slick of Rory’s seed lubricated his maleness enough that it did not take long. That familiar sensation of muscles contracting felt new and thrilling with this unfamiliar paw doing the work. Philip was able to simply lie back and enjoy the pleasurable feel of streaking his white chest and midriff with burst upon burst of his own semen.

As the last of his seed shot out and the hazy feeling began to fade, Rory eased up on his stroking and Philip heaved a deep sigh. Rory placed his still wet paw on Philip’s stomach to feel the rhythmic rise and fall of his breathing as he settled down to lie next to him.

“So, a little more thrilling than a carriage ride, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah,” replied Philip, nuzzling him. They kissed once more, then fell into silence as Philip allowed himself to drift off in the comforting embrace of his new companion.