by Alexis Woods
How? How did I get so lucky? I’m nothing. A nobody.
Dylan drifted towards Brian, chin raised, lips pursed, and Brian gave Dylan what he wanted.
“You two really are beautiful together,” Christian sighed. “I am so fucking lucky.” He went to his knees, his hands sliding down their torsos and gripping waistbands. Downward more until fabric pooled around their ankles, then up to encase full erections.
Dylan grabbed onto Brian’s arm as he swayed, lost in the granted pleasure of their alpha’s caress. Brian pushed his own arousal aside, locking his knees to keep the little crane from falling. He watched as Christian took Dylan’s cock in his mouth, sucking with a rhythmic cadence as he fondled Dylan’s balls.
Brian knew the moment, Christian shifted his fingers to tap at Dylan’s entrance. Their beautiful bird released the most erotic moan he’d ever heard as Dylan leaned hard on Brian. The sound alone spiked pleasure through him, and he barely kept his footing as his desire peaked and he spilled, coming with nothing more than Christian’s light hold on his cock, hearing Dylan’s sweet vocalization, and watching their gorgeous crane writhe under Sir’s care.
“Fuck,” he groaned, shuddering through the aftershocks, and keening when Sir pulled away from Dylan’s spit-slick shaft to stare at him with awe before swiping away the droplet of cum clinging to his slit. “Sir, I’m—”
“Beautiful,” Sir said, cutting off Brian’s apology and filling in his own choice of words. He gazed up at Brian. “Striking. Wonderful. Mine.”
“Yours, Sir,” Brian agreed readily. He prayed Christian spoke as true as he did. Brian had been Sir’s for so long, he wouldn’t survive if Christian left.
“Daddy?”
Sir shifted back to Dylan. “I’m here, little bird. I haven’t forgotten you.”
Dylan tentatively reached for Christian, touching the curl of hair on Sir’s forehead and brushing it to the side. “I need, Daddy.”
Brian sidestepped behind Dylan, adding his weight to support their needy crane. Christian resumed stroking Dylan’s cock first, then added his tongue, and finally his mouth. Brian pulled at Dylan’s dark nipples, rubbing the small peaks, and pinching the tiny nubs. Again and again, they pulled those intense moans from Dylan until he fractured beneath them, coming in waves that shook his whole body. Brian ensured he stayed upright as Sir milked him dry in long swallows, tight strokes, and ending with tender licks.
“Sweet Mother,” Dylan sagged. “That was ah-may-zing!”
Christian chuckled as he stood, sandwiching Dylan between them. “You like that word, huh?”
“Yeah,” Dylan chirped. “I haven’t come that hard since…before dinner.” He cackled at his own joke.
Brian smiled fondly at the young shifter. He agreed one hundred percent, and though it looked like Dylan could go another round, Brian needed a lot more recovery time. Dylan’s youth and energy would keep them both on their toes.
A glance down Sir’s body reminded Brian there was one person who hadn’t yet come. He leaned over and whispered into Dylan’s ear. “Should we tuck Daddy into bed and take care of him?” Brian winked at Christian. “He looks ready to burst.”
“Ooo, yes. Let’s do that.” Dylan wiggled out from between them, snagged Sir’s cock and led him to the bed.
Christian let them arrange him in the middle of the mattress and cage him in on either side. Brian stroked the bottom of Sir’s shaft, holding it upright for Dylan to mouth at the cockhead. Sir’s nails scratched at Brian’s scalp, sending tingles of delight down his spine. He moaned in synchronicity to Sir’s gasp and growl of pleasure as Dylan took his daddy’s cock deep.
Dylan popped off and smacked his lips. “Your turn, Bri. Make Daddy feel good.”
Brian would sure try. He swirled his tongue around the ridge of Sir’s cock while Dylan stretched out alongside Christian before diving for his daddy’s mouth. Sir’s hand gripped Brian’s shoulder when he swallowed him whole, bumping the tip against the back of his mouth.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Christian chanted when Dylan moved again to lap at his nipples. Dylan’s hand snaked along Sir’s abs, around his cock, to pet his daddy’s balls. Kisses followed the path, and Brian gave up his position when Dylan reached him.
Sir’s grip tightened, pulling Brian into a filthy, moan-filled kiss. “Not gonna last,” he growled, tipping his head back, eyes closing, chest heaving.
“Finish him, Dylan. Make Daddy come.”
Dylan double-downed, hands and mouth working in tandem. Brian worried Sir’s closest nipple, pinching and tugging the far one.
“Boys,” Sir shouted, back arching, legs shaking, his grip on Brian’s nape pressing him down.
Brian rolled his head just enough to watch Dylan finish and lick Sir clean. Sir collapsed, his hold loosening and moving to soothe that which he’d grabbed.
“Okay, kit?”
Brian laid his head on Christian’s chest, fingers drawing through the short curls. “I’m good, Sir.”
“Okay, darling?”
“Fantastic, Daddy.” Dylan licked his lips and then laid opposite Brian. He tapped the back of Brian’s hand and grinned mischievously.
“Good. I’m just gonna lay here a minute, okay?” Sir mumbled, his breath already slowing as he dropped off to sleep.
Dylan giggled and winked at Brian. “Guess Daddy gets the middle.”
Brian nodded, rubbing his cheek on Sir’s pec. “Right where he should be.”
Dylan hummed, his voice quiet when he agreed. “Yeah. Right where he should be.”
Brian watched as Dylan drifted off, his features relaxing in slumber. This one little crane had come into his life, into his home, and in one day turned it upside down. Not that he was complaining, Goddess no. He slid his fingertips lightly down Dylan’s arm and then rested them on Sir’s chest.
In the silence of the bedroom, Brian’s worries returned. No, he told them. Go away. This night had fulfilled dreams and hopes he’d never expected to come to fruition. There’d be a day in the future he’d have to face those fears, and he prayed he could overcome them.
Chapter 12
Dylan
Dylan woke to a circular cold wet press of something on his cheek. A panted, hot breath followed the damp touch on his face. A series of short licks of tongue to his jaw completed his wake-up call.
“Ew,” Dylan whined, pushing the furry head away. He squinted at the fox lying next to him. Brian’s green eyes stared back. “Really, B? Next time give a guy some warning.” He scratched the top of Fox’s head as he studied Brian’s animal form. His coat along his back was a pale red, almost orange color, and his grey-white chest fur reached up along his muzzle, almost bisecting it in half. Fox’s tail was long and thick, continuing in the same orangey-red shade, and his black socks extended only a short way up his legs.
“You’re beautiful, Fox. I love your soft fur and this white patch on your chest.”
Fox crept closer, his belly staying low to the mattress as he inched upwards and laid his head across Dylan’s pectorals. Dylan lavished him with praise, continuing to stroke Fox’s coat from between his ears down along his spine.
The door squeaked open and a second fox entered, leaping to the bed and licking first Dylan’s cheek, then Fox’s muzzle. Daddy’s amber orbs regarding them as he sat beside them.
Dylan raised a hand. “Can I?”
Daddy Fox leaned into the touch, and Dylan catalogued his features and the difference between the two foxes. Daddy Fox’s black socks extended almost the entire length of his legs, the white of his chest and muzzle were a brighter shade and not nearly as large a patch as Fox’s. His coat was a darker shade of orange-red, too, and his tail greyer.
“Gorgeous,” Dylan crooned, giving both foxes equal attention for a few minutes until his bladder decided otherwise. “Thank you for showing me your fox forms, but I really gotta pee.”
They jumped off the bed but made no move to leave the room. Dylan couldn’t wait any longer, so he thre
w back the covers revealing his semi and dashed across the room into the bathroom. He took care of business, and then cracked open the door to leave, hoping they’d have left.
No such luck. They waited a few feet from the door: Daddy Fox sitting regally on his haunches, Brian Fox lying at his feet, both of them staring at him. Daddy Fox tossed his head back and yipped. Fox rolled to his back, exposing his belly, which Daddy Fox nosed and nudged. Daddy Fox licked Fox’s muzzle and Fox vocalized a few seconds before twisting to his feet and prancing a few feet away.
The shift swept over Daddy Fox, and he slowly stood upright, extending a hand towards Dylan. Dylan moved fast into Daddy’s space, ignoring the hand and going for a hug.
Daddy stroked Dylan’s hair. “Brian and I wanted to stretch our legs outside. Would you like to stretch your wings with us?”
Dylan pressed closer. “I haven’t shifted in a long time.” Two years too long. Crane was small for his age, and his plumage remained rusty when all his friends were showing off their red crests around their eyes and grey feathers that indicated adulthood. Embarrassed to shift, he would make up an excuse to leave whenever his friends wanted to play in avian form.
“Darling, that’s so sad. Everyone needs time in their other half. I’d love for you to shift and play with us, but I won’t force you.” Daddy threaded his fingers into Dylan’s hair and tilted his head back. “I’m going to take Brian outside to run around. Get dressed and join us, hmm?”
Dylan wet his lips. “Okay, Daddy.” He lifted on his tiptoes for a kiss and ended up held there while Daddy plundered his mouth. Dylan moaned, his gut tightening with want.
Brian barked, dancing around their legs.
“Okay, okay, kit. Let’s go.” Daddy gave Dylan one more peck on the lips, then he knelt down and shifted. He shook his fur out, circled Dylan’s legs, pressing and rubbing his body against his skin before heading out the door. Brian Fox repeated the transfer of scent, then sprinted from the room, yipping with what sounded to Dylan like pure delight to chase after Daddy Fox.
Alone, Dylan stared at the unmade bed where just hours ago the three of them had sex. Everything was moving fast, swept up in the high of pheromones. Not that he was complaining. The sex had been out of this world, far beyond the rough cluelessness he’d experienced with a few other cranes his age. He wasn’t a virgin, but the way Daddy and Brian made him feel, he might as well have been.
The call and repeat barks and yips outside snapped Dylan from his reverie. He hurried into his room and opened the closet. He flipped through the hangers, pulling out a pair of distressed jeans he suspected would be skintight, a white tank, and an off-the-shoulder top to layer with. His suitcase still lay open on the bed and he grabbed out a pair of pink lace undies and ankle socks. Once dressed, he checked his hair in the mirror, pinched his pale cheeks to raise some color, then skipped through the house to the kitchen. He smiled when he saw the fox-flap pushed loose from the back door.
Outside the sun was shining, the fall weather still warm enough to not need a jacket during the day. Dylan looked around the backyard for Fox and Daddy Fox but couldn’t locate them. A rustling in the shrubs to his left made him wonder. Hide and seek?
“Fox,” he called, studiously avoiding looking at the shrub, “where are you? I thought you wanted to play?” He walked to the right, following a stamped concrete path towards a low fire pit. A neat stack of logs rested inside an upright steel ring along with an open weave metal basket of kindling. Several chairs and low-backed benches circled the pit.
“This looks nice. I can’t wait to sit out here and bask by the fire.” He tried out one chair and then the bench, speaking aloud his thoughts on their comfort. From the corner of his gaze, he spied Daddy Fox creeping closer.
“This bench will be a great place to nap, I think. I’ll bring out a few pillows and a blank—Oof!” Daddy Fox leapt onto the bench and fell into Dylan’s lap. Dylan chirped, hugging Daddy Fox’s neck. “Silly, Daddy. Of course you can nap with me, but…” Dylan paused, watching Fox trot across the yard, zig-zagging through the chairs until he stopped and laid his snout on Dylan’s knee. “But we might need to get a bigger bench for all three of us.”
Dylan playfully pushed Fox’s muzzle away when Fox tried to sniff his privates. “Dude!” he laughed. “Stop with the nose in my crotch.”
Daddy Fox’s reprimanding bark stopped Fox in his tracks and he sank to the ground with a pitiful whine.
Dylan reached down and scratched Fox’s chin. “It’s okay. I know sometimes it's hard to control your impulses in your animal form.”
Fox gave a soft yipping trill and inched close. He licked the inside of Dylan’s wrist, his tongue spines coarse on Dylan’s skin in counterpoint to the soft whispers on Fox’s snout that followed.
“You two look comfortable in your animal skins.” It was easy to tell them the truth when they couldn’t talk back. “My friends made fun of me because they all molted at sixteen.” But not me.
Daddy Fox barked and titled his head.
“Right, sorry. So when a crane moves into adulthood, we lose our tawny feathers, replacing them with greyer ones, and we develop a red crown across our eyes. My friends all matured, but for whatever reason, I didn’t. I don’t think they meant to be mean, but it hurt when they teased me and called me baby names. I kinda stopped shifting after that.”
His foxes pressed closer, covering Dylan in their warm fur and fresh scents. Their natural pheromones merged in Dylan’s nose. Christian was roasted walnuts and pecans, Brian was warmed cinnamon toast, and together they reminded him of a freshly baked nut bread. “Hm. You guys smell so good, I could eat you up.”
Fox lifted his head and howled.
“You laughing at me, big guy?” Dylan nudged Daddy Fox away and knelt beside Fox, taking up a playful wrestling match with him.
Daddy Fox pranced around them, occasionally sticking his cold nose into Dylan’s neck, until Dylan turned on him and tackled him to the ground. Escaping, Daddy Fox ran away, and Fox chased him with Dylan taking up the rear.
“No fair,” he yelled. “You’re too fast.” He stopped, started stripping, and as the last piece of clothing fell away he shifted into Crane.
Crane shook out his wings, hopping from one clawed foot to the other, then picking up speed and taking wing. He swooped over his foxes’ heads, trumpeting his success. They ran in circles around the backyard, leapt the short fence, and headed into the forest. Navigating the tall trees with his impressive wingspan would be tough, so Crane landed at the edge, calling for his mates to return with a loud, rattling bugle.
When he saw them coming, he turned and ran a few steps before once again flying high. They barked at him, leaping into the air whenever he flew low, but they couldn’t catch him. The gentle breeze lifted him higher, and he flew in a wide arc around the community, spying the now-closed pool in the center and the perfect wagon wheel shape of the roadways.
Daddy Fox’s bark called for him to return, and Crane gracefully spiraled home. He landed beside his discarded clothing, fluffed his wings before folding them to his sides, and shifted back to Dylan.
Brian, dressed in jeans and a light green henley that set off his eyes, relaxed in the grass waiting for Dylan to pull on his clothes, with a soft smile and content expression. Dylan plopped down beside him and laughed. “That was wonderful. I can’t believe I was such an idiot to not let Crane out.”
Brian said nothing but handed over his cell phone. The photo of a majestic sandhill crane stared back at him. The crane had grey feathers with a touch of gold blended in, a bright red crown across his forehead, a white neck, and the darkest blue eyes.
His eyes.
“Oh, that’s me.” Dylan bit his lower lip as he studied the image. He covered his mouth, tears forming and escaping. Daddy sat next to him and put his arm around Dylan's shoulders. Brian scooted closer and gripped Dylan's ankle, giving it a wiggle. Neither said anything, both giving him silent support.
"Thank yo
u," he mumbled through his sniffles.
"We should be thanking you," Christian replied. "You allowed us to be the first to see your adult shift, and you took my breath away with your majesty."
Dylan shook his head, denying Daddy’s declaration, but Brian tapped his leg.
"Yes. You were, as you like to say, amazing. The way you swooped through the sky, just… You're as beautiful as Crane as you are Dylan. Thank you for playing with us. Fox hasn't had that much fun since we were kits."
Daddy caressed Brian’s jaw. "You're still my kit."
Brian's cheeks pinked, and he tucked his chin to his chest. The shy gesture took years off Brian, making him appear no older than Dylan's eighteen years.
Dylan rolled to his hands and knees and crawled to Brian. He tackled the fox shifter to the ground and tickle-attacked him.
Brian howled, halfheartedly trying to push Dylan away. When he succeeded though, Daddy took Dylan's place and resumed the torture. But only for a minute before he turned on Dylan.
"No," Dylan shrieked, laughing maniacally. "Stop, Daddy, stop."
Daddy waggled his fingers threateningly. "Mwahahaha. Only a kiss will stop me."
"Quick, Bri, kiss him," Dylan yelled.
"On it!" Brian carefully rolled Sir off of Dylan and pinned him to the grass with his heavier frame. He leaned down and kissed Daddy, who held the sides of Brian's head and took control.
Dylan swooned at the deliciously erotic sight. They looked fantastic together, and he momentarily panicked at the thought of becoming the third wheel, the one no longer needed but pushed to the side.
The crazy idea fizzled fast when the foxes separated and turned simultaneously towards him with heated gazes and licking kiss-swollen lips. He didn’t even have time to shriek before they were on him, dotting his face and neck with kisses, and stealing a few nips of his skin.