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Loss of internet prevented me from uploading this earlier, but it's probably for the best. I rewrote this story from scratch so many times I almost abandoned the series in its entirety! Relatively happy with this one. I hope you are too!

• Master Meridian

Blood and Water

Desire and Duty

The greatest thing in the world was that Oswell didn't know.

It was something that Deacon sang his praises to every single day. His father was blissfully oblivious of what had changed in his son. What exactly had changed was something that Deacon himself wasn't even entirely certain of, but what the younger fox _did_know was that he had come to fear each and every new little discovery that came with it.

The first few days had been the hardest. Once he and Bain had returned from the lake, Deacon had retired to bed. All of his fears and concerns had flooded back to meet him again. Half of the night had been spent awake, tossing and turning and unable to sleep. The solace Bain had offered him after their dalliance in the rain didn't hold up outside the otter's presence.

Oswell seemed to have drawn the conclusion that the anxiety was caused by an upswing in his own aggressiveness toward his son. It was a mistaken conclusion that Deacon was thankful for. He'd dealt with Oswell's frustration when his fatigue caused him to accidentally break a few pieces of his father's equipment when he'd been sent to fetch them. When Oswell bored his way into Deacon's skull, the fatigue itself was so pervasive that it clouded his thoughts. Deacon's sudden and newfound fear became a defensive mechanism in itself.

Bain had tried to help, but Deacon became more resistant to the otter's advances and offers. Day after day saw Deacon's fear grow, with only the fox's own training and will to keep it in check. When Bain had accidentally snuck up on him, Deacon had just about jumped out of his fur. It'd taken every ounce of self-control to keep himself from breaking down in tears right then and there, or worse; accidentally incinerating the otter with his powers was entirely possible. The stress of his situation - of what he'd become and what he'd allowed himself to do and the threat of his father ever looming - became too much for him. He withdrew into himself.

The fox's magic grew equally unstable the more agitated he became. More than one vicious backhand had been visited upon Deacon's muzzle when his powers had backfired in spectacular ways around his father. "Control yourself!" Oswell had snapped each time, even as he cracked the bones in his son's face with the force behind his disciplinary blows. "Now heal your worthless muzzle and try again!" That said nothing of the time when Deacon's fear and anxiety and pain and exhaustion all piled up under his father's shouts, and he'd unintentionally set Oswell ablaze.

It would have killed a lesser person or even a lesser magi, such was the force behind the accidental attack. A crackle of electricity had shattered the firestorm that had engulfed Deacon's father, and the flames had been blasted away in a surge that launched Deacon across the room. He'd left an imprint in the stone wall where he'd landed, and it had taken him two days of magical therapy to heal the broken bones. Oswell had told him that the impact had broken three ribs, cracked the rest and perforated a lung. He'd also said that if he hadn't so kindly tended to him afterward, he would have died momentarily.

While his father was impressed with the raw power his son had displayed, Bain only grew more and more distant. It didn't help that Deacon tried to avoid him at every turn once he'd recovered from his wounds. Rather than bury his thoughts of the otter deep, the fox instead purged them from his mind when they arrived. He reached out to sense Bain's presence, but only insofar as it would help him avoid contact. Deacon knew it would only give his father more reason to distrust him if Bain spoke to him about it, but he knew the otter wouldn't. Bain knew what would happen if either one of them told Oswell what they'd done at the lake. Pushing Bain away hurt him in a way he couldn't understand, but he knew he needed to do it.

The lake itself became equally the solution and the problem at first. Oswell had told his son that he needed to hone his powers further. He'd reiterated Deacon's potential and what he could become, but admitted a fault of his own; that the house had not been designed with an unstable magi in mind. It was not safe for any of them for Deacon to make use of his full power within the manor's confines. To that end, Oswell had dispatched Deacon to the only relatively safe place on the grounds: the lake.

He hadn't been dispatched empty-handed. His father had offered him a rare gift in the form of an arcanum shard; a quartz-like crystal the length of Deacon's leg that shimmered in the sunlight. He'd explained to Bain that the crystal was an attractive force to magical energies, nigh-indestructible and able to draw and store untold quantities of arcane power. They were a safety precaution for those magi adepts who were only recently awakened to their powers.

Deacon had only been able to explain that to Bain because of the problem the lake had become. When he'd first arrived at the lake one morning nearly a week after the incident that stormy night, it had been to find Bain already there. The otter explained to Deacon that Oswell had suggested that the lake would be a fine place for him to relax in between extractions, and that perhaps his presence would help Deacon's mind focus on minimizing collateral damage. The former had been proved correct in short order. The latter was another matter entirely in the beginning.

Deacon's afternoons were used up through channeling raw magical energy in various ways at the arcanum shard. His mornings were spent with heavy tomes that Oswell gave him before he went to the lakeside. The books contained esoteric arcane lore that had been lost to many other magi and filled with concepts that would make an experienced master of magic blink with confusion. They were a test, Oswell had told him. If the younger magi could master the concepts and his powers, he would find purpose and balance as his father had.

For days though, Deacon struggled. He fought with his mind and with his feelings. It was hard to reach an understanding of those concepts - concepts deliberately chosen to be too advanced for someone of his level - or an execution of those techniques when Bain was so close, swimming through the lake or asking questions about what he was learning and what it all meant.

The otter had very obviously kept himself from asking the questions that were in his mind and shunted firmly out of Deacon's. He had to have seen the single-minded focus Deacon threw into his arcane studies. Deacon could sense the edge of Bain's feelings as a tickle in the corner of his mind, and the otter's overriding interest seemed to be the preservation of the troubled fox. Concern flooded out of Bain, though it always seemed to dip to melancholy when at last they left the lake to head back to the manor. Loneliness colored every sense from Bain's mind, and Deacon tried to shut it out as he focused.

As much as Deacon hated to admit it, his father had been right. As he threw his full focus into the studies, his mind had managed to drive away the implications and concerns and fears that had plagued him. His magic stabilized. It even weakened somewhat, as his tumultuous emotional state began to settle.

However, he equally knew his father didn't deserve all of the credit. For all the stress and strain that Bain's constant presence brought, the few times he allowed himself to interact with the otter brought him genuine smiles and a little peace in the world that he'd all too commonly lacked. An outlet for his powers and a distraction for his mind was one thing. Just by being there, Bain was simultaneously driving the fox insane and keeping him from going mad. As much as he wanted to push the otter away, he retreated from the thought faster.

Even as the days passed and Deacon found himself growing more and more centered, he still couldn't bring himself to bring up that night by the lake with Bain. He still couldn't bring himself to accept the consequences of their actions. He knew, deep down, what it had meant and what it had been. That didn't mean for a second that Deacon was willing to accept it for what it was.

It had been an attack on Bain that had broken everything to the surface again. One lazy afternoon as the otter darted through the lake with natural grace, neither he nor Deacon had detected the approach of one of the forest's predators. The gaophan - a long, sinewy feline-like beast with prominent horns and venomous claws - had probably only crept to the lake to drink. When it had stumbled onto Bain, it probably thought it had found lunch.

A flicker of warning at the edge of Deacon's mind was his only warning before the gaophan launched itself from the tall grass. It missed Bain by barely an inch, and the otter cried out in terror as the beast landed and twisted about to come around for another attack. It managed to pounce at Bain again before Deacon had struck it with a searing burst of flame from his paws, honed to a width no greater than that of Bain. Hot air washed over the otter's face, and when he was able to look up it was into the ashen remains of the gaophan. The beast had been incinerated mid-leap.

Bain had all but run to Deacon's side, and the fox had been able to do nothing more than hold his friend until Bain's fear subsided enough for him to react. To Deacon, the gaophan was nothing new; they lurked in the forests nearby the manor, though most avoided his father's grounds like it was plague. But for Bain, the son of a baker in a small, secure village, attack by a gaophan was considerably more traumatic. He'd wept as Deacon had checked his body for claw marks, and the tears refused to relent even after the fox declared him safe.

The only way to help calm Bain was the one thing that Deacon had hoped to avoid. He'd pulled the otter close and held him tight as he dried off in the afternoon sun. He'd let Bain feel his fear and concern, and he'd reiterated the otter's safety and that Deacon was looking after him. He'd stayed there with Bain until the otter had finally become able to calm himself.

It'd been uncomfortable at first for the fox. The warmth of the body beside him, upset though it was, was more than enough to cast his mind back to the lakeside that night. He'd felt his own fears and concerns drift to the surface of his mind, but they hadn't paralyzed him the way they had tried to ever since. Instead, and quite without the fox's studies there to keep his mind off the otter, focusing on helping Bain had been enough.

There was a peace there, with the otter curled against him. Even with the knowledge of how Bain felt after the attack - the aftershocks of the otter's fear were something that Deacon could sense as clearly as if they were his own - he couldn't deny the comfort he felt. The irony of providing comfort and receiving it instead was not lost on him.

The sun had begun to sink down toward the horizon when Bain was finally able to bring himself to move again. He'd thanked Deacon for his attention and care. The fox just brushed it off, but he wasn't able to brush off the little kiss Bain left on his cheek. He'd thought it would have induced a twitch, or a jerk, or some other quick response. Deacon was almost surprised by the calm that it had brought.

Worry came later, of course. Once again, the lack of Bain's presence there afterward left a slew of questions that just ran rampant through the young fox's mind. What was he? Who was he? Who was he going to be? Could he change what he was? Was Bain wrong? What would he do if Bain wasn't wrong?

He could feel his father's suspicions grow. It was clear in the older fox's face whenever the pair spoke that he was aware of something else that was going on underneath he surface. For whatever reason, he wasn't probing too deeply for it. That was the true blessing Oswell offered. He seemed to genuinely not know what was going on under Deacon's surface. His ignorance would only last so long, though. Deacon knew that sooner or later his father would figure it out.

He'd lain in bed for the majority of that night, unable to sleep as he tried to figure it out himself for the umpteenth time. The night held no new answers for him, and the constantly circling questions brought him no further peace. His training had given him an excuse to run from the problem, but Bain? Bain perhaps held a secret that could help him understand and overcome it. He had, after all, been instrumental in establishing and pinning down the problem in the first place. The fox resolved to speak with the otter the next day.

His attempt was delayed by his father's intervention. A warning that both the otter and Deacon needed to be back at the manor by midday was enforced with threats of the highest order, and no further information regarding exactly why was forthcoming. Suitably filled with more dread than he'd hoped to start the day, Deacon had nodded and assured his father that they would return on time.

Deacon really tried to be more verbose on the way to the lake that morning with Bain, but the words wouldn't come. Every topic he tried to discuss with the otter as a means of easing his mind before his true conversational goal died a couple sentences in. Bain had helped by trying to talk more at length in Deacon's silence, and the fox had been glad for that distraction. It gave him a chance to figure out exactly what he wanted to say when they arrived.

It wasn't until Bain announced that he was going to go for a quiet swim in the lake that Deacon realized that he needed to act. If he let the otter go, he wasn't going to be able to face up to the questions he needed to answer. One paw closed down on Bain's wrist as the otter tried to turn away. "No, wait," he said, as he gave that trapped wrist and its attached arm a gentle tug.

Bain's eyebrows lifted as he cocked his head at the fox. "Did you want to... check for more gaophan?" he asked. The otter seemed to shrink into himself at the mention of the creature's name.

A quick shake of the fox's head didn't set Bain any more at ease. He'd not even considered that Bain might still be twitchy about the attack. "No. No, it's not that; don't worry," he replied as he tried a smile. "The gaophan don't usually wake up until the mid-afternoon. They sleep during the morning." He took a breath. He had to say something on-point or he never would. "I need to talk to you."

When Bain just twitched one little ear, Deacon inwardly cursed himself. The fox let go of the otter's wrist and sat himself down in the grass as he tried to sort his feelings from his words. "You know what I need to talk to you about," he said. Maybe if the otter would say it for him, he could just respond and go from there.

But it didn't look like Bain was interested in that. Realization dawned on his face and was swiftly buried beneath a thin façade of disinterest. "No, I don't know," he replied, and a little note of bitterness entered his voice. "What did you want to talk about?"

"About... that night we were here," Deacon finally forced out as he glared at Bain. He knew what Deacon was talking about. Why, after being so nice yesterday while he was being comforted, did the otter want to act like that?

Bain dropped down to sit opposite Deacon and cocked his head to the other side. "What night?" he asked as he folded his arms. "We've been coming out here for a while now. It's all been daytime."

As Deacon's brow furrowed and the fox looked down, some of the tightness in Bain's face relaxed. "I couldn't talk to you about it," Deacon forced out. He hissed from behind clenched teeth and shook his head. "I didn't know what I could do. I still don't."

"Still waiting on what you wanna talk about," Bain replied with a little shrug. His face relaxed slightly in spite of the words as he looked Deacon over.

The whimper that slipped out of the fox wasn't expected, but Deacon heard it come from him all the same. He shook his head to clear it before he forced himself to meet the otter's gaze. "Us. You. Me. What we are. What you showed me I was. What that means."

Bain's face softened right away as he curled his legs under himself. "That's a lot to talk about," he replied. There was no more snark or tease in his voice, and the bitterness had vanished entirely in favor of more gentle tones. "Where d'you wanna start?"

The fox blinked as he cocked his head. "You... want to talk about this now?" he asked, as a new sliver of doubt crept through him.

All Bain did was shrug. "I wondered if you were ever gonna ask," he answered. "I thought maybe you were just gonna bury it all and try'n forget it. I'm glad you didn't wanna do that. You'd have hated yourself forever." He tilted his head up. "So, go on. Ask. Now. Weeks after it might've helped you."

Deacon fidgeted. His paws wound and unwound themselves in his lap as his gaze dropped. "Don't you feel shame?" he asked with the barest glance back up at Bain again. "Don't you feel... bad, for being what you are?"

The otter's eyebrows lifted high as he cocked his head. "Nope," he replied with a shrug. When Deacon just frowned at him, Bain's eyes rolled. "Why should I? Should I feel bad for just being me? I don't do anything wrong. _We_didn't do anything wrong."

"But everyone-" began Deacon.

"Doesn't matter," Bain interrupted with a wave of his paw. "The gods and the people who make the rules? They're not like us. They don't have to deal with it like we do. They don't think about us. They don't understand us and why we're like this, so they say we're wrong. It doesn't mean they're right." He smiled. "Mum would always say that we determined our fate if the Mistress of Fate blessed us. Maybe fate is that this is who we are. Maybe we were always meant to be this."

But Deacon shook his head. "I don't know the gods. I don't know what they all teach about fate and about us and what we are and what we're meant to be. Everything I know I learned from my father and the books he's taught from." The fox shuddered. "He has made his feelings on the subject very clear to me."

"And he likes males too?" Bain asked with a smirk. When Deacon vigorously shook his head, the otter shrugged. "So why does he get to decide if it's right or wrong? It's not like killing someone in cold blood. You choose to do bad things... you don't get to choose how you're made, right? Would you have chosen your father?"

"No," Deacon instantly replied, before his eyes widened and he looked up at Bain again. "I mean... I honestly don't know. I've never really met anyone else's father, or known how other fathers raise their sons. Maybe my father has done well. Maybe he's right to be so strict. He tries to teach me, and I..."

Bain leaned in slightly. "And you disappoint him?" he offered.

Deacon nodded. His eyes drifted past Bain and to the river. "And now I'm this. Now I'm something else that's wrong and it could get me killed. Or worse, it could get you killed! I don't know what... wait, what's so funny?"

The otter's chuckles didn't stop when the question was asked. It took Bain a moment to shake his head to stop laughing before he could respond. "It'd be worse if I was killed instead of you?" he asked.

As the fox's ears flattened back to hide the heat that burned in his blush, he shook his head quickly. "No, I... I mean, yes! Of course! I mean..." He growled as he glared at the otter. "You know what I meant!"

With a warm smile, Bain nodded. "You don't want to see anything happen to me. You're worried about me."

"And why shouldn't I be?" Deacon asked as he pushed himself up off the ground. New energy entered his voice, tinged with desperation. "I mean... gods, you teased me and you played with me and you... were..."

"Sticky?" Bain offered as he smirked.

Deacon's eyes narrowed but he nodded anyway. "In none of that time, did you think about what could happen to you for it?" he asked with a growl.

Bain shrugged again as his smile settled back on his muzzle. "'Course I did," he replied as he stood and walked over to Deacon. He placed both paws on the fox's shoulders and gave them a little squeeze. "I could pretend not to like you and stay safe, or I could take a chance and see if you liked me, too. And hey, if you don't wanna take a chance for someone you like, what else's worth taking a chance for?"

"That's not what I meant either," Deacon grumbled as he felt himself pulled into a firm hug.

The otter just squeezed tighter. "That's exactly what you meant," he countered as Deacon's arms slowly wrapped around his waist. "Maybe you're not into me and I get reported, or your father kills me on the spot. Fine. Or maybe you are, and I could be happy with someone the way that I am for the first time in my life. Maybe you could be, too. That's the chance. That's exactly what you meant."

When Deacon began to grumble again, Bain just squeezed him tighter. "And you were worried about me. You were more worried about me than you were about you. You're breaking down because you're so scared and you're still more worried about me. You know what that says?" He licked gently at the fox's cheek as he smiled. "It says I chose right."

Deacon tried to look down, but only ended up running the side of his muzzle down the otter's cheek. He began to relax into Bain's embrace as he sighed. "Even when I do not know how to make the least bit of sense of who I am?" he asked.

"You don't need to know who you are right now," Bain assured him as the otter licked at Deacon's chin. "You'll figure yourself out sooner or later. You can't be happy until you know who you are, my father kept telling me. One day you'll be happy, and it'll be 'cause you know who you are at last." Bain smirked as he drew back enough for him to smile into Deacon's eyes. "And besides, you don't have to know yourself for me to like yourself."

With another frown, Deacon looked down at Bain and perked an ear. "That doesn't mean I can... I mean..." He spread his arms out wide as he rolled his eyes. "I don't even know what you want from me. I don't know what you're looking to get out of this whole mess."

"Why do I have to be getting anything out of this?" Bain asked him. The otter pulled back slightly as he mirrored the fox's frown. "What I'm getting is your company. I enjoy being near you. I like you. I wanna be nearer to you." The frown evaporated as Bain's eyes closed. "Oh... I keep forgetting. That's your dad talking, not the real you."

Both of Deacon's ears laid flat as he let his gaze drop to the grass. It was true in a way, he supposed. "I'm sorry... father would always tell me that my powers would be sought by any fool looking to turn a profit. He warned me since I was a kit to always try to figure out what the other person wants from me before I agree to anything."

Bain smirked. "You never seemed to wonder before what I was getting out of your company. Definitely not that night."

"What you got that night here was a mouthful," Deacon replied, and he couldn't help the hint of the smile that shone through his dour mood. He forced himself to push aside his doubts and consider the situation logically and calmly. "Can people do that?" he asked Bain after a moment.

The otter arched an eyebrow. "Take a mouthful from you?" he replied with a smirk.

Deacon's eyes took another roll as he shook his head. There was that almost-smile again, trying to break onto his face. "Want... nothing. Not want of another."

With a shrug, Bain sat himself back down in the grass again. "Do you want anything I can give you?" he asked.

The fox shook his head as he looked up into the sky. Once more he found himself wondering if the gods were watching. If they were, what could they possibly think of his current state? "I... I guess I want you safe. Happy." As he spoke, he didn't even notice the little smile on his lips. "I think you deserve it. You seem so lonely sometimes."

"So why've you been avoiding me, then?" Bain asked.

"I didn't..." Deacon trailed off as he watched the otter turn away. The look of hurt on Bain's face before it was hidden from the fox's view was unmistakable, and waves of it boiled off him as Deacon reached out mentally to brush through Bain's feelings. "I was not trying to avoid you. I was just... I told you. I didn't know how to deal with all of this."

Bain still didn't turn back to him. The otter instead shook his head as he looked up to the sky. "And between your father and me, you think he'd help you through this all more than I would?" He shook his head again and heaved a sigh. "Your father'd hate you for it all and I'd understand it all, and you ran away from me."

It almost surprised Deacon when he felt himself moving up behind Bain. His paws trembled as he pressed them to the otter's sides and gently slid them around Bain's waist. Bain didn't fight him as the fox pulled him into a gentle hug. "If you understand it all, then you must understand how afraid I have been," he said after a moment.

The otter began to melt back against Deacon's chest as he breathed another quiet sigh. "I do," he muttered after a moment. "I do, really. I used to be that scared. I was lucky that I had Devlin to talk to about it all." He began to turn, and the fox's grip loosened as the otter finally faced him again. His eyes sparkled in the sun as the light caught restrained tears. "You're lucky too, Deacon. You have me to talk to about it all. You're not alone."

"Even after... well, I didn't _mean_to ignore you, but..." Deacon sighed and shook his head as he gave Bain a gentle squeeze. "Even after that, you still care enough to try and help me?"

The otter's jaw tightened as he nodded. "As long as you promise you're not gonna shut me out again," he insisted. He reached up to press both webbed paws to Deacon's chest and rested them there for the moment. "I don't have my family here. I don't have my friends. I've only got you, Deacon. I can't go through all of this if I have to be alone. I can help you... but I need you to help me."

Deacon remained silent, and Bain's paws trailed slowly down the fox's chest and to his sides. They drifted to Deacon's arms as he pulled back, and he placed his paws in Deacon's. "If you can promise me that, I'll share everything with you. I'll show you everything I can. I'll be there for you." He shook his head slowly and gave Deacon's paws a little squeeze. "But if you can't, you have to let me know."

"Why?" Deacon asked. He mirrored the otter's squeeze as he held his friend's gaze.

With lifted eyebrows, Bain shook his head. "Because I want to," he replied. "Not 'cause you saved my village. Not 'cause you saved me. I want to. I want you." He shook his head again and clutched tighter at Deacon's paws. "But if you can't be there for me, I can't be there for you. You have to let me know what you want from me. I need to know if you want me, or if this's just me being silly."

"I don't know what that means," Deacon said. New firmness entered his voice as he shook his head a little more vigorously. "If I want you? What do you mean when you say that?"

Bain's head cocked to the side slightly as his shoulders drooped. His eyes dipped from Deacon's before they fell closed. "You really don't know, do you?" he muttered. "You really don't get it. It's right in front of you and you still got no idea." The otter began to chuckle. "So smart, you magi."

A momentary surge of indignation led to the fox pushing gently back against Bain's embrace. "If I am so ignorant, educate me," he said, as Bain squeezed back at him to stay close.

It took a second for Bain to force his head up again. When his eyes met Deacon's once more, the fox didn't look annoyed. Confused, certainly. Annoyed? No. "I don't wanna go home," he said at last. "It's not 'cause I feel safe here. It's not 'cause I can be me here. It's not 'cause I'm happy here. It's not 'cause I fear going back." His paws lifted slowly to cup both of Deacon's cheeks. "I want to stay here because you're here. And if you ever leave here, I'd wanna come too."

The confusion on Deacon's face gave way to surprised understanding as the otter continued. "I only felt hurt when you avoided me because I wanted to help you. The more I'm around you, the more I wanna be around you. I care about you, and I know you care about me." He shook his head again. "But if you don't feel that way about me, you gotta tell me so I can stop being this dumb, lovesick little baker's boy."

"Lovesick little..." Deacon trailed off as he forced down the excited little thrill that twisted his heart. Lovesick? He quickly pulled himself free of the otter's arms. "Bain, I... you're right; I care about you. I do. I care a lot." He waved one arm back in the general direction of the manor as he shivered. "But I've been here all my life! I've never... I don't..." He sighed. Why didn't he know what to say? "Love is... I do not know what that feels like. I do not know what that is. I cannot tell you what you want to hear, Bain... love? I do not know how to define that."

Bain shrugged. All of a sudden, his eyes refused to meet Deacon's. "Mum always told me that it was just something you... knew. It's not like us; not like how we were that night out here. Not like knowing what you are." A little smile tickled his muzzle for a moment. "She said it was like... feeling a hug, just from thinking about the person you love. Feeling safe, even when danger's everywhere. Feeling like you've found somewhere to belong... and someone to belong with. She loved love. She always told me about how wonderful it'd be when I had children she could dote on."

Deacon nodded slowly as he glanced away. It didn't take his magi powers or the ability to sense Bain's feelings to know that the otter was scared. He'd opened himself up and, behind all his teasing and flirting and boisterous behavior, Deacon was starting to see just how fragile Bain was underneath. Guilt wracked the fox. It mingled with pity, and a sympathetic pain in his chest that seemed to grow stronger every second. "I've disappointed you," he said, as he bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Bain. I-"

"You don't need to be sorry," Bain replied. Cheer had returned to his face, and he smiled up at the fox. The hurt continued to burn away under the surface, but he put on an admirably brave face for Deacon. "Love can't be forced, and I've only been here a few weeks. I'm sorry if I made you worry, or feel bad." He backed away a couple steps and cast a glance over at the lake. "Don't worry about it. I won't."

The otter turned away, and Deacon dropped his gaze to the ground. That sympathetic pain continued to grow in strength. It felt like someone had thrust their paw through his chest, pried his ribs apart and taken a hold of his heart. He imagined he could feel them squeezing him tighter and tighter. Tears welled up in his eyes from some unknown source as Bain left his side. He tried to will himself to calm, but a new, alien anxiety wouldn't allow itself to be quelled so easily.

His muzzle opened, mouth drier than it had been a moment ago. He felt the need to speak; to act; to turn Bain around. It was all he could do to resist the urge, but the conflicting sensations that ran through him only grew stronger in response. By the time Bain had taken a few steps away, Deacon could have sworn he was being assaulted by another magi. Nothing else he had encountered or heard of in his life could match the depth of the sensations that were scrambling both his mind and his body.

The fox didn't know if these were the feelings that Bain was talking about. He didn't know if they were the sensations his mother prized so highly. If they were, he didn't know how in the world the otter was able to bear it. If it was love - or at least something so close it could be easily confused for - and that was truly what Bain felt, how in the world did the otter manage to smile and turn and walk away? How did he not buckle under the weight? He was stronger than Deacon. That was something that the fox knew for sure.

If he'd been as strong as Bain, he could have turned away as well. He wasn't, and he didn't. Whether it was love or not didn't matter. He cared, and he cared more about the otter's well-being than he had cared about anything before in his life. It was only when Bain turned away that Deacon came to a single, simple realization: the last thing he wanted was for Bain to walk away. Maybe that was love. Maybe it wasn't. He still couldn't let the otter go.

Bain heard his hurried steps, of course. He turned, muzzle open to ask what Deacon was doing, but he never managed to speak a single word. A paw closed around his own and pulled him to a halt. It turned him back around again and brought him briefly face to face with the fox. Queries were stolen as muzzles met, and shock melted into joy as the reality of the situation began to sink into Bain's mind. He all but fell into Deacon's embrace and wrapped his arms around the fox in turn.

Deacon held him tight as he pushed deeper into the kiss. The pain in his chest began to diminish the longer he held Bain against his chest, and the otter's fingers drew away his anxiety as they raked trails through the fur on his back. Heat flooded him; it radiated out from his center to spread through every inch of his body. Love? He still didn't know. The fox was past caring. He needed to be close to the otter. He needed to feel Bain beside and against him. He shivered as the memory of his first solo extraction of the otter flashed through his mind. The fox's shaft throbbed at the thought. He needed to be inside the otter, whatever that meant.

When Bain drew back from the kiss, the pair were left panting for breath. The otter's cheeks were matted with tears shed before Deacon had pursued him, but the brightness of his smile showed how quickly those feelings had been shattered. He didn't utter a word, though. Words weren't necessary. He could see in the fox's face everything that he needed to see.

Instead, Bain's paws dipped low to lift Deacon's robes. The fox didn't fight him as the cloth slipped up and over his head and along his arms. It had barely cleared him before Deacon had lunged forward to lock the otter in another kiss. Bain's vest was shed in a similar fashion, as the fox's paws clumsily pulled it off. The otter helped with his trousers; he hooked his thumbs into the waist and wriggled his hips until they began to dip.

Once Deacon's robes were out of the way and Bain's trousers were pooled at his footpaws, the otter went to work on the magi's leggings. He fumbled with the belt that kept them in place, and it wasn't until Deacon placed his paws on Bain's that the otter looked up with a blush that burned in his ears. "Let me," he said, voice breathy as he smiled. That smile remained fixed as Bain brought his paws up to Deacon's shoulders and pressed back into another messy, eager kiss.

It took the work of moments to unbuckle the belt, but the small pouches attached to it over Deacon's hips were heavy enough to drag it down once it was undone. His shaft, harder than it had ever been, only provided his leggings and the belt the barest resistance before it met the air. He shuddered against Bain as he stood against the otter, equally as naked and equally as exposed. His malehood twitched as it brushed against Bain's.

Deacon tried to open his muzzle to speak. He tried to ask a question. He tried to query a simple how to the otter. Before he could, Bain's tongue drew up and over the fox's lips. The otter just smiled at him as if he knew. "Let me," he echoed, as his smile twitched briefly into a smirk.

As he mirrored the expression, Deacon nodded. He allowed Bain to draw him down to the grass, and he leaned back as the otter nuzzled down along his shaft. A shuddering moan escaped Deacon as his head lolled back in the sunlight. Pleasure tingled through his malehood. The insistent beating of his heart mingled with the sensations that assaulted him. Instinct sang to him - you need to get inside him! - but it was pushed aside for the moment as the otter's tongue slid down the side of his length.

Deacon's eyes closed as he struggled to keep himself quiet. All the new feelings rushing through him only begged him to cry out, to moan and gasp and speak wordless, perfect nonsense. He wanted to tell Bain something. He wanted to do something. He wanted to move or speak or act, but he couldn't. It was like each of the otter's slow, wet laps across his malehood stole his words and his breath. That pleasure, still so new and alien to him, wiped his mind clean and left him slaved to those feelings.

Instead, all he could do was allow himself to be lost in it. He let himself slump back the rest of the way as Bain messily worked his muzzle down over the fox's shaft. His legs and arms both spread out wide as he writhed in the grass, bending countless blades with each twitch of his body. Weeks on, with doubt vanquished by whatever it was he was feeling, this second time the otter tended to him was as or more powerful than before.

It didn't last nearly as long, though. No sooner had Deacon felt the first stirrings of his pre drooling out of his tip than Bain pulled up and off him. He opened his muzzle for another query, but was silenced as the otter's fingers gently curled around the base of his malehood and squeezed. His other paw rubbed the slick pre over the vulpine's length as Deacon trembled under his touch.

When the fingers left him, Deacon opened his eyes. It was just in time to catch Bain's shadow over him, as the otter maneuvered himself up and over the fox's body. He leaned down to lick at Deacon's nose, and he smiled as his length drooled little droplets of pre into his partner's fur. He wriggled down and closer against Deacon as he let one paw drift back down to the fox's sheath.

Deacon could only watch, fascinated as Bain drew back. The paw on his base helped to guide his malehood up and toward the underside of the otter's tail, and confusion gripped Deacon again for a moment. He remembered the dreamscape he'd crafted for Bain, and how the otter's unconscious mind had helped build and direct it. He knew that he wanted to be inside his friend, but the fox couldn't figure out what exactly it was he was meant to do. As his tip ground back and forth between the cheeks of Bain's swaying backside, Deacon was at a loss. The only thing back there was...

Oh.

His eyes widened as he sat up quickly. It was almost enough to knock Bain back, but the otter kept his balance as he wriggled down against that canine shaft. "I..." he began, before he realized that he didn't know exactly how to broach the subject. "Won't that... you know... hurt?" he finally managed to ask.

"Not if you're gentle with me," Bain replied with a smile. The otter's fingers squeezed a little tighter at Deacon's base, and aimed that pointed tip up between his cheeks again. His smile grew wider as Deacon's hips rose, pushing up against him in firm little bucks. "Gentle, fox," he admonished as he drew Deacon's shaft closer and closer to its goal.

Surprise was overtaken by instinct when the firm rump of the otter vanished from the touch of his shaft's tip. When instead he found a spot with more give than resistance, Deacon teasingly ground himself up against it. He shivered as he felt his instincts try to take over, but he fought down those rutting urges as he remembered what Bain had told him. Instead he held himself there, pushing against that spot just a little harder as he rolled his hips. It didn't feel as good as when the otter's muzzle was wrapped around his malehood, but it was still pleasant enough.

At least until another spurt of pre raced up his length to paint that hidden hole. Both males gasped with delight at the sudden, slick warmth that struck that spot, and both found themselves suddenly afflicted with an array of new sensations as the pressure provided by Deacon's hips spread the otter's hidden entrance open. The pre had been the last thing needed; a twitch of Bain's muscles and the grind of Deacon's hips had done the rest. The fox began to sink up inside his partner.

He felt the otter's fingers squeeze down hard at his shoulder as instincts got the better of him. Hips rose to try and push further in, and a pained grunt from Bain wasn't quite enough to stop him. Exquisite tightness wrapped around his shaft as the otter lifted himself up again, and the inch and a half of flesh that had penetrated him met the open air again as he panted. "Wh... why did you stop?" Deacon asked between panted breaths.

"You're too eager," Bain replied. He playfully batted at the fox's chin before he leaned down to kiss it. His hips continued to wriggle, teasing against Deacon's shaft as he shook his head. "You've gotta calm down... I'm not a female. You can't just shove it in and rut me... you'd tear me open."

Deacon nodded slowly as he rubbed at Bain's sides. "You've... done this before, then?" he asked as he looked up at the otter.

Bain shook his head as he settled back against the fox's length again with a quiet sigh. "Nope... not ever." He grinned as he swayed his hips, and another little surge of pre splattered the base of his tail and began to drool down between his cheeks. "I always waited for the right male. You feel right." He shrugged as he worked himself down against Deacon's shaft again to rub it up into the slick mess it'd made. "But Devlin told me a lot... I know how this's supposed to go. I think. Just stay still... let me handle everything, okay?"

The fox had to grit his teeth as he nodded. He felt that sensitive little hole twitch against his tip as Bain moved back into position again, and he steeled himself as the otter straightened up. When he bore back down again, Deacon's muzzle fell slack as he arched his back ever so slightly. Once more there was the lessened resistance from that one special spot, slicked by his pre. Once more he felt the otter force himself to relax above him, and once more he felt himself start to slip into that tight heat.

It defied his ability to define. Bain wriggled down slowly, his hips constantly in motion as he gyrated around the fox's buried tip. Pulses of squeezing sensation teased that tip and enticed Deacon to thrust up and bury himself in Bain's body, but he fought himself to stillness. He wanted more; every teasing squirm of the otter's body sent tingles racing down his shaft. The thought of being hilted in that heat was almost enough to break his control.

The sight of Bain's gritted teeth kept him in check. How exactly the otter was able to enjoy such a strange thing was beyond Deacon's understanding, but he could see bobbing over his belly Bain's fully-engorged shaft, throbbing with appreciation even as his rump was spread open. Struck by sudden inspiration, Deacon lifted one hand and slid it between their bodies to wrap around the otter's length.

Bain slipped down another couple of inches at the touch as his body alternated between excited clenching and pleasureful relaxation. He shook at the fox's touch as he slid down, his hips only moving more excitedly as his jaw relaxed. He leaned back as he lifted his paws from Deacon's shoulders, and a wave of motion rolled through his body from hips to head as he bore down a little harder.

Each inch was a victory in itself, until Deacon's shaft began to spurt again. That slick fluid shot right up inside Bain, easing his passage as he rubbed and stroked awkwardly at the otter's malehood. While he'd never touched another male before and had no frame of reference for the differences between their endowments, Deacon retained enough presence of thought to remind himself of what worked well for him. It seemed to work well, and Bain's gradually increasing levels of relaxation in spite of the thick length of vulpine malehood straining to push deeper into his rump.

It came as a surprise to both when a squeeze from Deacon's paw heralded the otter's arrival in his lap. He let go of Bain's length as he gripped at the otter's hips, and he lifted his own experimentally to grind against that stuffed backside. His heart beat so heavily he thought it might break out of his chest as he grinned up at Bain. "It's... it's all in. How? How did all of that fit inside you?"

The triumphant expression on the otter's face betrayed his own joy as he wriggled himself down into Deacon's lap. He felt the fox's malehood stir against his inner walls, as a not-entirely-unpleasant strain marked the stretch around it. "Who cares how?" he asked as he reached down to the fox's shoulders again. Bain helped Deacon sit up, and draped his paws over Deacon's shoulders as he touched his forehead against the vulpine's. "It's... ah, it's amazing..."

"How does it feel?" Deacon asked as he tried to wriggle his own hips. He watched Bain gasp, and for a moment he was scared he'd hurt the otter. Then he felt the heat of a little, wet splatter against his belly, and looked down to see Bain's hard flesh drooling pre of its own. "I... guess it feels good?"

Bain nodded vigorously, and the motion was hard enough to cause sympathetic jerks and twitches around Deacon's shaft. Their bodies squirmed against one another as they held each other tightly. "It feels full," he replied once he'd caught his breath. He began to grind himself down into Deacon's lap again as he moaned quietly to himself. "It's... gods all, it feels right. It's so good... Devlin was right!"

The silly, pleasure-wracked smile on the otter's face translated almost directly to Deacon's as he nuzzled up against his partner. He squeezed down hard at the otter's hips as he gave another little grind up. "And this is... this is how two males like us... mate?" he asked.

"No, no... this isn't mating. Hold still." Bain took a slow breath as he wriggled himself back up slightly along Deacon's shaft. He could only manage a couple inches of motion with the fox moaning all the while before he pushed down with equal slowness. He watched on as Deacon's breath caught in his throat, and he couldn't help a grunt of his own approval as that full feeling shifted inside him. The simple up and down motion deep in his body brought a satisfaction and enjoyment that even he'd not expected, with all his stories and time learning from Devlin. He drew up again and repeated the motion, a little faster.

Heat joined with the motion of that vulpine endowment as it worked back and forth inside Bain. The otter trembled as he watched Deacon struggle to stay still. Everything that he was feeling seemed to be mirrored in the fox's face. Each rise and fall of his hips brought a new sense to that full feeling. It invoked new sparks of pleasure as the strain of the stretch to his body settled into the pleasureful ache of a body unused to being filled so.

The question of whether or not Bain was enjoying the act was easy for Deacon to answer. He could feel the otter's emotions. He could feel the way the pain faded away. He could feel Bain's joy at nothing more than being there with Deacon. It humbled Deacon in some way, but that was lost to the immediacy of their intimacy. A brief pang of jealousy briefly hit him; everything that he felt was wrapped delightfully around his shaft, but it was focused there. He could feel the echoes of Bain's pleasure. Something about being where he was satisfied him in a fuller way that spread throughout his whole self. In spite of the strain and the initial hurt, Bain radiated a happiness that Deacon couldn't even fathom.

His own was different, but seemed to match. Each lift and drop of the otter's body along his shaft teased his hips into the barest of motions, helping to draw back and ease up into his partner. His otter. The thought, first of its kind, thrilled him in a new way. He didn't own Bain. He didn't claim dominion over the male writhing in his lap. Bain might not have belonged to him, but he felt a new connection. He was bonded to Bain. Bain was his. He was Bain's. Not his father's, not the world's. Just Bain's.

He leaned up to press into another kiss. The eagerness was there as surely as before, but lust was absent from the gesture that time. It was replaced with something else; some powerful desire that he couldn't identify. It just felt right to bring their muzzles together. Deacon shivered as he felt Bain's paw on his cheek. It tilted his head and drew him deeper into the kiss. Their tongues danced as Deacon slid his other arm around Bain's middle. It wasn't much of a grip, but he used it to help guide the otter along his shaft.

The motions remained slow, but they became longer and harder as Bain drew back from the kiss. He lapped at the fox's lips and nosed in against him as they panted together in the morning light. His body squeezed down harder as he sank down around Deacon's shaft, only to relax again as he lifted up again. Instinct drew him on and enticed him to more and more vigorous motions. Grunts and whimpers of want filled the air as his eagerness began to get the best of him. "This," he announced in a shuddering voice broken by his motions, "this... this is mating..."

Since Bain didn't move to stop him, Deacon buried his head in the otter's neck and started to move his hips up more firmly. He matched the pace of Bain's motions as best he could, and the pleasure built inside him as he felt himself filled with a satisfaction he'd never known. Pleasing himself in his room had been a clinical thing designed only to relieve himself of a pressure that would not abate. But there, in the grass with his muzzle pressed against the otter's neck and breathing deeply of his scent, it was something else. There was an imperative there, natural and insistent that demanded that he spill his seed inside his partner. Mating felt better than he'd ever imagined.

The fact that it was a male who drove himself down into his lap and tugged on his shaft didn't even matter anymore. All that mattered to Deacon was that it was Bain there with him. It might have been the heat of the moment, but all of his troubles vanished there with the otter in his lap. Every twitch and squeeze of his body around the fox's shaft felt right. "It's... ahh! It's..." Words failed him. Instead, he squeezed Bain tight and bucked up a little harder.

What formerly would have sent pain through the otter's body only brought pleasure. His body had grown used to its intruder, and now the full feeling that suffused Bain was joined with something else. Each roll of his hips drove him down along the fox's malehood, and he shivered each time it ground past something deep inside him. It sent twitches through his shaft as it rubbed back and forth through Deacon's fur. It matted down against the fox's belly, so voluminously did it leak in his excitement.

That Deacon's shaft was equally slick with his pre was perhaps the only reason why Bain was able to handle the fox's ever-increasingly hard thrusts. Such reason was beyond Deacon. Exactly how they were coupled didn't matter so much as the fact that they were_together. He _was inside Bain, and the reality of the mating was infinitely more satisfying than the pleasure he'd felt in the otter's mind during the extraction.

Bain tried to say something, but a sharp thrust up inside him was halted a little more abruptly than he'd expected. He hurriedly slowed his motions and lifted himself enough to slow Deacon's efforts. "W-wait," he managed to mumble, his eyes squeezed shut as he pressed back down again. The fox obeyed the command; his rump pressed down to the grass as he bit his lip to stay still again. When Bain sank back down again, he shivered with a combination of delight and fear. His rump came to rest against the swollen knot of the fox's shaft. Suddenly, it felt much more massive than it really was. "I don't know if we can..." he said, even as he began to push himself down against it.

The feel of the otter's efforts to strain around his knot was enough to send another spurt of pre up into his depths. Deacon squirmed as he dug his fingers into the dirt in an attempt to hold himself back. Instinct demanded motion; it demanded he tie and fill and breed his mate. "If you keep that up," he forced through clenched teeth, "I'm gonna try anyway... I want to...oh, gods; I feel like I have to!" His hips started to rise again.

While he could have shied back if he wanted, Bain stayed in place. He grit his teeth as he pushed down with the fox's grinding motions. His tailhole spread against it and stretched a little wider in their effort to force that thick knot in past it, but it just couldn't fit. Neither male gave in to what seemed impossible at the time, and instead simultaneously both began to hump and grind and push against one another again.

The pleasure of the mating was still there, but there was something more behind it for Deacon. He could feel it each time his knot mashed up against that impossibly tight ring of muscle. Each push strained it a little more and enticed him further. His body needed to knot the otter. His instincts needed to knot the otter. He needed to knot the otter. The raw sensation of their mating took on a new tone as he felt himself rushing toward his peak. No matter what happened, Deacon knew he needed to make sure Bain was wrapped around his knot before he finished.

Bain was doing everything he could to make that happen. He relaxed himself each time he pushed down into Deacon's thrusts, in spite of the sensation of his body stretching in ways it had never dreamed of. His muscles fought back and tried to squeeze down each time that fat knot pushed against him, but Bain overrode it. Whether it was possible or not no longer mattered to the otter. He wanted to feel the fox inside him. He wanted to feel every last inch, knot and all, buried inside him. His whole body shook with pleasure at the promise he made himself; he needed to be tied. He needed to be filled completely.

But Deacon himself didn't know if he'd make it to that end. He felt the otter's hole give more and more before his thrusts. Bain's resistance diminished as the fox's eagerness grew, but each thrust drew Deacon closer and closer to his finish. He could feel the familiar tingle in his body as he approached his climax. It accelerated as his pace increased, with his every effort to hilt in the otter only bringing him closer to failing.

The trickle of his pre up into Bain's body cut off as Deacon felt his control start to slip away. He panted against the otter's neck, drinking in his scent and that of their combined pleasures as his hips began to push up harder. The fox all but battered the underside of the otter's tail as he tried again and again and again to force that girth into an opening still too snug to accept it. It stretched obscenely in their attempts to swallow that knot up, further and further and further and further as Deacon's orbs began to twitch. It was too late.

He gave one last push; one hard, jarring thrust as he tugged Bain down firmly into his lap. His back arched as his tail stuck straight out through the grass. He threw his whole body into the motion as he felt himself teetering on the edge of his climax. Bain's tailring shuddered and strained and the otter cried out at the force behind the motion-

-And then it popped in with a lewd squelch, and both males were lost to a sea of pleasure.

Their moans rose in unison over the lake as the sudden squeeze around the full girth of his knot all but tossed Deacon over the edge. His malehood erupted with a force the likes of which he had never felt before in his life. Supreme pleasure washed out his vision and blinded him to the rest of the world. The only thing he could focus on was the surge of his seed as it raced up through his shaft and into his mate's body, planted as deep as he could possibly reach as he held the otter tight.

It was almost an afterthought that he felt the spray of Bain's own seed across his chest and belly. The warmth soaked into him as the otter whimpered and moaned through his climax, but all of that paled in the feelings that raced through Deacon. He could sense everything that boiled out of his partner, and it mingled and joined with the physical sensation of his tie. He felt himself emptied into his mate's body, every drop greedily drunk down inside Bain even as he felt the otter's pleasure soak his outside. For every drop of thick seed he planted in his partner, Bain repaid him with a fresh coating of his own. White streaked the fox's fur, even as he painted the otter's inner walls with his essence.

Even when the flood of their respective orgasms tapered away to a trickle, each clutched the other just as tightly as if they were still in its throes. Still did Bain's head rest atop Deacon's. Still did the fox pant and nuzzle into his otter's neck. Still did their respective shafts remain perfectly hard, in spite of being completely spent. The breeze washed away the scent of their tryst, but their bodies continued to tremble in the wake of that first, overwhelming melding of bodies.

Deacon was the first to snap out of his stupor, and he shivered as he started to lift his head. He felt more than saw Bain tilt his head down to meet him, and he touched their foreheads together as he looked into the otter's too-close eyes. Ears tipped back as he smiled and gave a lazy little lick to Bain's muzzle. "That..." He took a breath and forced moisture into his muzzle as he licked at his lips. "So that's... how two males do that?"

As he panted softly for breath, Bain nodded and smiled back. He wriggled down against the fox's lap again and grinned wide at the way Deacon shuddered. "I forgot you foxes swell up," he said as he nuzzled along Deacon's muzzle. "I think... I think we need a bit more practice before you shove that thing in me again." A little note of fear flickered through his emotions as he cocked his head to the side. "I mean... if you wanted to do that again, I mean..."

The fox silenced him with another little lick across his lips as he smiled warmly back. He shook his head and reached up to cup Bain's cheek just as the otter had done to him countless times before. "Only if you don't go anywhere," he replied.

The relief that flooded Bain was easily felt by Deacon. The otter all but threw his arms around Deacon and hugged the fox tight as he nodded. "I won't go anywhere," he said, his voice muffled by Deacon's chest. "I promise. I'm not going anywhere." He shifted against the fox again as he gave a quiet chuckle. "I... can't go anywhere. You're kinda stuck in me."

Heat filled Deacon's ears as he blushed and squeezed Bain back tighter. "It will go down soon," he said with a quiet sigh. The warmth around his shaft and the feel of the otter in his lap was so soothing and pleasant that he thanked all the gods for that piece of anatomy. "I do not think I care if I am stuck like this forever..."

"I do." The words drew the fox's gaze down as Bain smiled up at him. "You can't mate me again if you stay swollen up forever, can you?"

With a smirk, Deacon glanced up at the sky. The sun was still hours from reaching the peak of its travels. "I don't know," he replied as he ground himself up against the otter's rump. He heard Bain coo quietly at the sensation, but it turned into a yip and a giggle when the fox rolled his hips back and tugged at him with his swollen knot. "I suppose we could always find a way. We do have hours before we are meant to return for whatever father has planned."

At the suggestion, Bain began to shiver. He grinned all the wider as he licked slowly across the fox's lips. "Hours, you say?" he asked as his grin spread further across his face. "Well... I think we did well this first time, but if we have hours until we have to get back..."

Bain's hips began to roll down against that still-knotted length of flesh, and it was Deacon's turn to groan. The urge to mate was already building inside him again, and if Bain was truly that insatiable? He doubted the otter would particularly mind if he were a little more vigorous the second time. "Give me a few minutes," he said as he matched Bain's grin. "Once my knot goes down, we will see what we can do about the second time."

"You promise?" Bain asked as he wriggled down again.

Deacon met those wriggles with a firm grind of his own as the pair began to laugh. "Oh, I promise," he replied as he kissed his otter's nosetip. "I very, definitely promise."

When Deacon and Bain returned to the manor - after a not inconsiderable period of bathing in the lake to rid them of the evidence of their trysts - it was almost to a place changed. Every surface was pristine. The carpets were vibrant and colorful even more than usual. Smudges and stains were removed from shiner surfaces, and they glinted in the light of dozens of arcane gems scattered about the walls. The whole house had been cleaned, top to bottom by a practiced arcane hand.

Oswell had been there at the door waiting for them. It was a good thing that Deacon sensed his father nearby before they entered visual range and quickly disengaged his paw from Bain's. Oswell didn't seem to have known what the pair had gotten up to by the lakeside, and the last thing Deacon wanted was to have such a simple, physical sign give away everything that they were.

The older magi had hurried the pair inside and sent them to their rooms immediately on orders to dress for dinner. Deacon had dared not question the instruction, but Bain had asked the question that burned in the younger vulpine's mind: it was only lunchtime, so why dress for dinner? While irritation had burned clear as day on Oswell's face, he'd simply asked that they do as he say for the moment. He'd said as much that he had a surprise, and not a word more.

Deacon stopped by Bain's room after he dressed himself in more formal magi robes. He'd knocked on the otter's door and glanced in, only to find Bain sitting naked atop his bed. The fox had laughed and chastised him for his state of undress, and it had taken a fair amount of effort to keep renewed arousal from surging through his body. He'd had to wait at the door as Bain dressed himself, not in the near-transparent silken outfit he preferred but in similar robes to Deacon. While they lacked the magi's flair, the gown was elegant enough in its own way. Deacon had approved it, and together they'd headed back down to Oswell.

When they arrived in the foyer, Oswell was already waiting for them. Dressed head to toe in an elaborate suit, his coattails touched the floor as he folded his arms in his sleeves and looked both Deacon and Bain over. His eyes lingered on Bain for a moment, but he said nothing to the otter. "Good," he announced as he glanced back at his son. "Good, good. Yes. This should suffice. I expected perhaps more, but this will do. Formalwear appropriate to a magi... yes. Our guests must see you as you are."

"Guests?" Deacon echoed as he frowned at the door. He straightened up as he clasped his paws together behind his back; the word alone was enough to draw his father's glare. "I beg pardon, father. I did not know we were expecting visitors this eve."

Bain coughed to gain Oswell's attention and stepped forward. "With respect, Master Oswell, maybe I should go," he suggested. "You've been so patient with me when we eat together, but if you have guests... I wouldn't want to embarrass you, sir."

With a lifted eyebrow, Oswell shook his head. "You will attend nonetheless," he insisted with a wave of his paw as the clang of metal sang past the still-closed front door. "It is not as though we will be dining with merely my tastes today. It should be quite a treat for you." He lifted that paw again and snapped his fingers.

The front doors swung open under the magi's will. Beyond the doors were a pair of figures, clad head to toe in brilliant, gleaming plate armor. Their helmets hid species, gender or identity, and their breastplates were emblazoned with the black crest of the royal family: a pyramid beneath a risen, crescent moon. As they marched into the foyer with spears clutched in their gauntlets, they stepped to the side and allowed another pair of royal guards in after them.

As they stepped aside, so too did another pair enter. This pair carried no spears, but instead the banners of the royal family. The breeze from outside whipped up the purple fabric, emblazoned with the same symbol as the soldier's armor. Oswell smiled as he stepped forward, while behind him Deacon could feel Bain's fear. The otter's concern bubbled away under the surface and only grew more intense with each royal guard that entered the magi's manor.

The older fox turned back toward Deacon and Bain. His smile grew wider as he perked up his ears. "Magi Deacon. Bain. Allow me to introduce to you the personal royal guard of Her Majesty, Queen Margot the Second of the Noctus Imperium, chosen daughter of the gods and custodian of the Font of Ages."

A flicker of motion emerged from behind Oswell, and he stepped aside with bowed head and splayed arms. As he did so, the final guest entered the manor. The stunningly beautiful young wolfess looked about herself as she entered, her arms wrapped around her middle. It barely creased the violet dress that covered her, and the diamond tiara atop her head sparkled in the arcane light of the room. She turned to Oswell and favored him with a thin smile as she waved to him. Bright yellow eyes raked up and down Deacon as Oswell rose, and Deacon couldn't help the sliver of dread that worked its way up his spine.

When Oswell lifted his head, his smile had turned a little colder. He turned to Deacon and indicated the lupine female with a wave of his own paw. "And it is my supreme honor to personally welcome Her Majesty, the Princess Corella of the Noctus Imperium and heir to the throne, into my home. We are humbled by her coming."

Almost on instinct rather than respect, both Deacon and Bain dropped to one knee and bowed their heads before the wolfess. "My lady," they both said, almost in unison as their eyes met the floor.

"Rise," she instructed, her voice sweet as honey as she looked the young males over. Her eyes refused to abate, even as Deacon began to uncomfortably shift from footpaw to footpaw before her scrutiny. "You are ill at ease with my presence here."

The fox gulped as he looked between the princess and his father. "No, my lady," he replied as he bowed his head again. "I beg you grace me with forgiveness for my inelegant, insufficient tongue. I am merely overwhelmed, that you would honor us with your presence."

"She honors us with considerably more than merely that, my son," Oswell said as he folded his arms into his sleeves once more. "She has not just come from her holy palace in Noctus for the pleasure of your company." He turned away from the princess to offer Deacon a smile. The expression turned cold as satisfaction began to flow off him in waves. "She has instead come to meet her future husband. Be grateful, son.

"The Princess Corella is your betrothed."