Work Text:
The days were getting shorter and the first frosts came with a twinge of melancholy.
The past months' long hours of daylight had turned into messy pages of fast written short stories he still needed to edit, so John spent most evenings sat by the fire and chewing on the end of his pencil.
His new work was... different.
Nightmares that used to torment him with flashbacks of gunshots and screams he'd attempted to exorcise in two long novels were a distant memory.
His dreams recently were much more pleasant, full of untamable forests and misty waterfalls, sensual touches and glimpses of auburn fur and antlers.
And the imagery... Intimate, unrestrained, explicit in its eroticism of eager mouths, bitten lips, tousled dark curls, twitchy deer ears, strong hands and the always piercing gray eyes.
He'd wake rutting into the mattress, sweaty and needy.
And sadly alone, left to deal with his arousal on his own.
He was uncertain how to go public with this work as he had been unable to push himself to give his editor even a small sample. He did want the work read and thought of other venues that wouldn't expose his privacy but so far he was stumped at choosing a pseudonym, discarding one idea after another, and reluctant to figure out how to self-publish.
The pages accumulated. The carnal dreams were recurring.
As the sun waned John was also still busy in the garden.
He'd collected and dried seeds of his favorite peppers and tomatoes, in the larder boxes of old compost hid carrots and beets for the winter, one wooden beam hung with braids of garlic and onions, shelves were full with jars of the autumn's bounty. Pear and damson jams, applesauce, medlar jelly and, a rare indulgence, elderberry liqueur that he'd leave to extract for at least two months, a solid drink reminiscent of tawny port wine for the colder nights to come.
Frost rimmed leek leaves were still good, as was the more rugged variety of kale.
But he'd already set out next year's garlic crop and readied most of the rest of the garden for its winter slumber.
The forest was an explosion of yellows and reds, paths strewn with fallen leaves and soft mosses. John would take long afternoon walks and forage for treasures like shepherd's purse and fennel seeds to spice his meals, sweet chestnuts and the absolute autumn favorite - wild mushrooms.
The forest would grow misty with fog in the evening hours and John liked to have a cup of tea looking out from the chilly porch before coming in for the night. He had spotted tracks in the grasses on the forest's edge and was hopeful his magnificent creature would return soon. He'd set out bowls of sweet parsnips or tart quinces with sprigs of medlar on a couple of occasions hoping to entice it to return.
Just as one autumn day was closing it did.
Sharp gray eyes.
The buck stood on the path leading through the garden, the fingers of one hand playing with a long twig.
Its imposing rack of mature antlers, bone white, was twined with grapevines that were bright red and green. Its crown of curls seemed fuller and wilder than before, and downy auburn hair covered its chin.
Gorgeous. And finally back.
And playing with the twig, running its tip over lips, neck, chest.
John felt so happy he could not help laughing out loud.
"Tease," he whispered.
One hoof took a hesitant step forward.
"As if I'd ever refuse you."
John opened the door of the cabin and stood on its threshold.
"Come on now. You've kept me waiting long enough." He went inside, setting down his tea cup on the kitchen table and kneeling down to stoke the fire in the cast iron stove.
With a few rasping grunts the buck followed him inside, hooves clicking on the hardwood floor.
As he turned to look back John faced a prominent erection protruding from the now thicker fur covering the buck's lower belly and thighs.
"Well, someone's eager..."
The pale skin of the buck's cheeks was dark pink with arousal and a distinctive strong scent, at once herbaceous and musky, filled the room.
Still on his knees John watched mesmerized as the buck drew a line with the tip of the twig it held from its throat, down over its muscled chest, and lower to its groin. John licked his lips as the buck uttered several small grunts and clicking noises and drew the tip slowly up the length of its hard cock to the tip.
"Fuck."
John pulled off his woolen jumper and started to unbutton and push down his trousers as the buck approached. Burying his face in fragrant fur and grasping around the buck's strong furry calves John stretched up to taste, watching as one hand wrapped around the cock to give it a few slow pulls and another reached to touch his jaw and bring him closer.
Finally, moaning with delight, John sucked down.
This, oh, how he'd missed this. Salty and slightly bitter and fucking perfect. He was licking, swallowing greedily and gasping for air, one hand grasping at a furry buttock, its muscles flexing under John's fingers, the other desperately pulling at his own erection.
He looked up to see a fiery gaze framed by the grapevine-wrapped monumental antlers. The buck was making hoarse guttural sounds, both hands holding John's face as if in reverence of what it saw. With a sigh it pulled John off and moved to kneel in front of him.
The kiss was soft and long, and John was lost as gentle hands removed the rest of his clothes and maneuvered him to lay down on his back. For a moment he didn't understand as the buck turned, but soon he was straddled by furry thighs, that luscious cock rubbing at his lips as the buck carefully lowered its antlers to lick at John's groin.
He moaned into the musky fur and thrust up impatiently.
He could hear crackling of the fire, indecently wet slurps, lusty sniffling. And his own husky whimpers as he sucked and was sucked.
As a single long wet finger pushed into him John groaned and ejaculated with some force, rutting and thrusting, his hand pulling at thick fur as he ravenously sucked.
A rush of semen filled his mouth as a wild roar broke above him.
Later, much later, curled into a warm furry embrace, held with ardent touches, fingers of one hand wrapped around the firm bone of a tine and nuzzling into soft curls, John sighed.
"Extraordinary."
The cabin had grown dark as the fire died down and only their steady breathing was heard.