The Son of Alar

Chapter 5

As he walked along, Philip felt less and less afraid and more and more excited. At last he was free to rove about as he wished unhindered by his fathers or anyone else. His first inclination was to go and see his brother, but he thought better of it. No doubt Tuck would let him stay the night, but as soon as he learned that their dads didn’t know he was out, he’d do the responsible thing and inform them. Not that he wasn’t about to get into serious trouble anyway, but why rush it?

He began to think about just what he would do now that he was outside the palace walls, especially with the knowledge he now possessed. It was true, they had spoken in a very cryptic manner, but he had an inkling—just a notion—of what they had meant. His fathers had never told him who his mother was, and the fact that Alar thought him to be in danger when only the royal family was at risk could mean only one thing. It all made sense now. His entire upbringing, the way he had been treated differently from his brother, who was technically an adoptee from Corallia. He was potentially an heir to the throne if anything happened to Trina and Ambrose. Yes, he suddenly realized, he had siblings! Real, honest-to-goodness blood relations. But did they know about him? They certainly didn’t act like it if so. No, they must not know. Ambrosia and Fagan must have been just as discreet about it as Alar and Adam had been with him.

At first he felt cheated by the deception. How dare they keep his true identity from him for so long! His siblings had grown up in splendor here at the capital while he had had to work like some commoner in the fields all day for most of his life! “Work builds character,” his father liked to say. Rubbish! thought Philip. Work like that breaks backs and puts calluses on the paws. Part of him wanted to be more reasonable, of course, but he was in no mood for that kind of thinking just now.

He paused at the sign of a tavern he didn’t recognize. It was an older structure without a doubt, though it looked like it had had a bit of repair work done in recent years. New boards intermingled with older boards to create a patchwork of a building with a newly painted sign hanging over the door depicting a bejeweled crown. He wasn’t tired, but he could certainly use a good meal. He decided to step inside and see what they had to offer.

The interior had been partly reworked like the outside, with new and old furniture sitting side by side. The tables were packed close together and most were occupied, so he had to wait a moment for a seat to open up at the counter. As he strode over, smells of musk and smoke mingled with ale and fire-roasted meat and vegetables in his nostrils: far too many smells to sort out all at once. He took his seat and waved to the barkeeper. The fat, decrepit squirrel smiled crookedly at him and asked, “What’ll it be, young sir?”

“I’d like some of your best mead, and…” He looked down the counter to where a burly, middle-aged squirrel sat nibbling smoked ham and eying a gaudily dressed doe a couple seats down. “A plate of whatever he’s having.”

“Coming right up, sir.”

The innkeeper poured him a mug of mead and set it down, then scurried off to make up his plate. Philip took a cautious sip. It wasn’t too bad—just enough honey to give it that signature sweetness without overdoing it. He took a couple more sips and sighed. This was nice. The cozy, tatty atmosphere of this inn and the taste of mead on his tongue…His father seldom had much mead at home, and even more seldom did he allow his sons more than half a cup.

“Mead’s a tricky one,” he would say. “You can get drunk and not even know it.”

As if I don’t know my own limits! he thought indignantly as he took another sip.

“They have mead at the palace too, you know.”

Philip whipped around. “Rory!” He set his mug down as the gray patted his shoulder and took the seat next to him.

“What are you doing here? Don’t you know it’s dangerous outside the palace just now?”

Philip shrugged. “Didn’t seem that dangerous getting here. Besides, I needed a little fresh air.”

“Dad being overbearing again?”

“Sort of.”

Rory nodded sympathetically, then motioned toward the barkeep. “I’ll have the same as this one.”

The barkeep winked as he set Philip’s plate down.

“As you say, young master Rory.”

“He seems to know you,” remarked Philip. “You come here often?”

Rory shrugged. “I used to be a regular.” He sighed as Philip took another sip of mead. “So, what’s eating you? Seems like there’s more on your mind than just old dad.”

“There is,” admitted Philip as he took his first bite of ham. “Mmm. Lots of grease in this one.”

Rory leaned toward him. “So, what is it?”

“Hm?”

“The thing that’s bothering you,” replied Rory as his food and drink arrived.

“Oh. It’s…” He looked around, then answered in a low voice. “It’s something I’d rather not say with so many ears about.”

Rory nodded. “I see. Well, maybe we could slip off somewhere private in a bit.”

Philip thought for a moment as he chewed. His father had expressly forbidden his contact with Rory. But he shoved that notion to the back of his mind and nodded. “Aye. I’d like that, I think.”

Rory glanced at his mug as he set it down. “Looks like you’re running a little dry there. I’ll order another. On me.”

“Thanks.”

They ate and drank together for a while, chatting about seemingly trivial subjects. As usual, Rory sat back and listened politely, asking questions and commenting now and then. As they neared the end of their supper, they moved on to less serious topics, and soon Rory began telling amusing anecdotes.

“And so I told him, ‘Why, do I look like a f*****g tart to you?’”

Philip burst into another bout of laughter until tears streamed from his eyes. He shouldn’t find it so funny, he knew, but he couldn’t help it, especially when Rory laughed as well. When he finally had control of himself, he sighed and shook his head.

“You’re amazing, Rory, you know that?”

“Aww, I’m not all that.”

“Sure you are. You’re under the tutelage of one of the most renowned mages in the whole kingdom, yet there’s nothing pretentious about you at all.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve little enough reason to be, haven’t I?”

“Can’t see why.” He looked out the window to find to his horror that the last traces of daylight had all but gone from the sky. He shot up from his seat in alarm, almost knocking his barstool over.

“Damn, it’s that late already?”

“Aye. What of it?” asked Rory calmly enough.

“I should’ve headed back by now. My dad will have my hide.”

“No, he won’t,” said Rory, standing and placing a comforting paw on Philip’s shoulder. “Not when he knows you’re in good company.” He smiled.

Philip’s heart ached, and he averted his gaze in shame as he replied, “My father told me to stay away from you, actually.”

“Did he?”

Philip nodded. “Said he didn’t trust you.”

“Oh.” Rory looked so hurt by the remark that Philip almost wanted to cry. “And…Do you trust me?”

“Of course!” answered the young baron without hesitation. “Why shouldn’t I? In fact…” He hesitated to go on, but Rory had already perked up a bit.

“Good. Then hear me out. We could try and head back to the palace, though I must warn you that this part of town can get a bit rough after dark, especially for folks dressed as nicely as you. And I’m not a powerful enough mage yet to render you invisible.”

Philip looked around at how everyone else was dressed, including Rory, and suddenly felt a bit self-conscious. This was definitely not the noble quarter.

“Or…” Rory continued, putting on that soft, charming smile as he took hold of Philip’s shoulders from behind. He leaned forward and spoke softly in his ear. “We could get a snug little berth upstairs, stay the night together, then head back to the palace in the safety of daylight.”

Philip looked sorely tempted by the idea, so to drive it home, Rory added, “Besides, you did say you had something you wanted to tell me.” He twitched his tail brush.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Philip allowed himself a little smile as he looked at Rory, then relented. “All right. What harm can one night do?”

So, they approached the old innkeeper and paid for an upstairs room. He grinned and passed them a key, instructing, “Last on the right. Have fun, lads!”

They marched upstairs, Philip a little less ably than usual. He nearly tripped at the top, but Rory helped steady him. When they reached the end of the corridor, he took the key from Philip and fitted it to the hole. The door, which was also a replacement, opened without a sound, and they stepped inside. The room was fairly austere, with an old bed, a nightstand, and nothing else.

“No wonder they charge so little,” Philip remarked.

Rory shrugged. “It’s not exactly the palace, I agree, but…” He plopped down on the edge of the bed and bounced a couple of times. “I think it’ll suit our purposes.”

“Aye, that it will.” Philip walked over, planted himself firmly beside the gray, and sighed. He blinked and ran a paw over his eyes.

“You all right?” asked Rory, concern all over his face.

“Fine. Just a bit too much mead, I imagine.”

“Aww, you poor thing.” Rory placed one paw on his shoulder and another on his head, where he gently caressed the fur between his ears. Philip closed his eyes and leaned into it.

“Mmm, thank you.”

They remained like this for a minute or two, then Philip placed a paw on Rory’s thigh and began rubbing softly. It didn’t take long for the two to lead one another into a kiss that went on and on as they felt each other beneath their clothes. Rory took the initiative, unbuttoning Philip’s vest and helping him out of it. Philip quickly unbuttoned and removed his own shirt, allowing Rory access to his firm, muscular torso. The gray took full advantage, running his paws across his chest and abdomen over and over. They kissed again briefly before Rory began undressing in turn, slipping out of his trousers and undershorts in one deft movement. In the moonlight streaming through the window, Philip could see Rory’s fully erect member and smell his arousal. He hadn’t realized during their previous encounter just how well-endowed the gray was. His tail flitted about excitedly, and he decided to slip out of his remaining clothes as well, lest his desire become painful against the restrictive fabric.

The two bucks eyed each other for a moment, gently brushing one another’s fur with the backs of their paws before shoving their bodies and mouths together again. Philip moved a little more clumsily than usual, but that didn’t bother him. All that mattered was the squirrel he held so close in this moment—the press of another buck’s warm body against his. There was nothing in the world quite so beautiful as this!

Their paws moved of their own accord, exploring every curve and crevice of one another’s bodies. Philip had never felt so alive, even during his escapades with Ferrell. Something about being with this squirrel he wasn’t supposed to see in a place he wasn’t supposed to be gave him a thrill, a slight sense of danger that he absolutely delighted in. He knew he would face consequences later. But he would not regret it. He wouldn’t even think about it now. He would live in the moment…for himself and this squirrel who made him feel things he had never felt before.

Rory dropped back onto the bed, pulling Philip with him. The red squirrel fell willingly atop him and kissed him all over the mouth, muzzle, and neck. He continued running his muzzle down through the fur on Rory’s chest and stomach, sinking slowly onto his knees. Eventually his muzzle rested just beside his partner’s hot, hard member. He gave it a lick and Rory sighed pleasantly, so he continued working his tongue along the shaft: up one side, then down the other. Rory sat up and placed one paw on his head, gently rubbing between the ears as Philip applied his knowledge and experience to the task before him, sometimes licking; sometimes sucking; sometimes simply tickling with his whiskers.

“Ahh, that’s nice,” remarked the gray, looking down. “You really do know what you’re about, don’t you?”

Philip removed his muzzle and smiled up at Rory. In that instant, gazing into those dark brown eyes gazing longingly into his, Philip knew that he was utterly devoted to this squirrel, heart and soul. He reapplied his muzzle in earnest, taking Rory in all the way, then slowly withdrawing, scraping his tender flesh gently with the corners of his incisors. He did this several times, teasing and trying to draw out his partner’s pleasure for as long as possible. He waited for the moment when Rory would thrust himself in and ask him to finish, especially when he tasted the first drops of precum, but he didn’t. Instead, after a short time, he pulled back from Philip’s muzzle and sighed.

“All right, close enough,” he said. Philip looked up at him quizzically, but Rory simply ran his claws through his head fur again. “Don’t worry, I’ll finish. Just want to make it extra special.” He stood up and patted the spot where he’d been sitting. “Up here.”

Philip obeyed instantly, still puzzled, but tail flicking excitedly as Rory grabbed his trousers and reached into one of the pockets. He pulled out a small vial with a whitish substance that Philip recognized from his parents’ bedroom.

“I always come prepared,” said Rory. “Ever been mounted before?”

“No,” replied Philip, feeling a tad embarrassed to admit it.

“Ah. Well, I’ll be extra gentle, then. Unless you’d rather top?”

Philip shook his head, his tail creating a small tornado behind him. Rory grinned again.

“All right.” He took the cap off the vial and poured some of the watery substance into his paw.

Same stuff, all right, thought Philip as Rory applied a generous helping to his member.

“Lie back now and try to relax,” said Rory. Philip did as he was bidden, shifting so his tail hung over the edge of the bed. When Rory had sufficiently slathered his maleness, he applied another pawful to Philip’s tail hole. Philip sighed at the touch of the cool substance against his hot hole, and shuddered pleasurably as Rory used a knuckle to get as much of the lube as deep as he could.

“Hmm. You’re pretty loose for a virgin,” remarked Rory.

“I’ve, er…practiced a lot,” admitted Philip.

Rory laughed that beautiful, infectious laugh of his. “Me too. But I generally find taking it’s not as fun.”

“Really? I love it.”

“Good.” Rory leaned over and kissed him, then whispered, “Then you’ll love the real thing even more.”

Philip felt another tremor of excitement and had to remind himself to relax as Rory stood up straight again, then lifted Philip’s legs so that his heels rested on Rory’s shoulders. He grabbed his member and stroked it rapidly to make sure he was as hard as he could get. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” replied Philip.

“All right.”

Philip closed his eyes and relaxed again as he felt first Rory’s tip, then his entire shaft press in. He let out a shuddering sigh. Rory pressed his maleness all the way in and held it there for a moment for Philip to get used to it. Then, taking a firm grip on Philip’s legs, he pulled back and thrust again. Philip gasped, but savored the pleasant pain as he repeated his thrusts in a slow, steady rhythm. He was so considerate, Philip decided, to go slow when he was clearly on the verge. For his part, Philip did his best to take in everything: the scent of musk, the soft glow of moonlight on that beautiful white chest, and the feel of those powerful loins against his rump. Everything that made up this moment of union with the buck he liked. The buck he admired. The buck, he now knew, he loved.

“Ahh!” exclaimed Rory. He sped up his thrusts and Philip moaned loudly as the first hot burst of seed filled his hole. It was every bit as amazing as he had expected and then some as Rory continued thrusting with all his might, his already slick member growing slicker with his own semen. After a few fantastic seconds, he slowed to a stop, though Philip didn’t want him to. His tail hole was burning with pain and ecstasy, and his own c**k throbbed for relief. Evidently Rory noticed this amidst his panting, for he reached down without even pulling out and began to paw him off.

With so many strong sensations and emotions coursing through his body, it did not take him long to climax. He gasped, moaned as he had never moaned before, then came all over his stomach and Rory’s fast-stroking paw. Rory continued stroking until every last ounce of seed had leaked out and Philip almost whimpered at his touch. He let go, allowing Philip’s legs to drop to the sides as he slid out at last, still half erect. He placed his wet paw on Philip’s equally wet stomach and rubbed gently as both bucks panted. Their panting soon broke into light-hearted chuckling.

“See?” said Rory. “Nothing like the real thing.”

“No,” Philip said, shaking his head. “But I know for sure you’re a mage’s apprentice now.”

Rory c****d his head. “How’s that?”

“Because that was magical.”

The two fell into a fit of stupid giggling.

“All right. Time to clean up.” Rory grabbed a kerchief and wiped off his paw and member, then rubbed at Philip’s belly fur. “Good as I can do,” he said finally, tossing the kerchief away and clambering onto the bed beside Philip.

“It’s all right,” said Philip. “I’ll clean up properly when I go back to the palace tomorrow.”

“Mhmm.” Rory paused as they climbed into a proper sleeping position, placing a paw on his chest. “What was it you wanted to tell me again?”

“Oh, that.” Philip was growing drowsy, especially after his exertions, and he took a moment to remember. “I…learned something today when I overheard my fathers talking to the queen.”

“And what’s that?”

“Don’t tell anybody, but…” he lowered his voice to a whisper. “I’m actually royalty.”

“What?” Even Rory couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.

“Shh! But yeah, I’m actually the second son of Queen Ambrosia and King Fagan.”

Rory shook his head in bewilderment. “Wow. You’re sure about this?”

Philip shrugged. “They were talking about my true origins, and how I might be in danger because of them. Who else is in danger right now but the royal family?”

“I guess that’s true.” Once more Rory shook his head.

Philip found his reaction amusing, chuckling as he brushed Rory’s flank. “That’s right, I’m a prince.” His paw moved up to Rory’s cheek and they looked each other in the eyes as he whispered. “And this prince loves you, Rory.”

Rory hesitated. A hundred different thoughts and feelings passed through him in that instant. But one ultimately stood out above the others. One that he had so long feared, yet so long desired. And in the end, he could only reply, “I…I love you too, Philip.”

They kissed once more, and Philip shut his eyes, thinking of nothing more than this wonderful squirrel lying in his arms. Rory closed his eyes as well, but try as he might, he simply could not fall asleep.