Northern Hospitality (Patreon)

Finally finished!
The zip has eight different versions for you. A'khyl and Ciaran won July's poll. Here's what the voting looked like:

• A'khyl/Ciaran - Northern Hospitality - 93
• Ridley/Pavel - Incestuous Pirates - 47
• Zack/Killian - Rainforest Tribal Parley - 35

If you like a little story with your porn, keep reading:

NORTHERN HOSPITALITY

“The Queen has prepared a gift for you, my Vigor,” said the steward as he led Prince A’khyl down an icy corridor, “As a show of Northern hospitality.”

A’khyl had no illusions about what the gift might be. In both his Kingdom and the North, it was customary to entertain guests with the comforts of a consort. In these cold lands, it seemed all the more necessary to keep warm at night with the help of another body under the bed furs. The castle they’d come to visit was magnificent, but freezing, in the literal sense. It had been built entirely from ice, snow and stone. Over many ages and generations, it had been sculpted against a mountain face and extended across the tundra, visible for miles. The air remained so frigid that the sconces lighting the halls did nothing to melt the surrounding ice. It was claimed no fire could melt the frozen halls of the North.

The steward stopped as another servant, dressed in simple leathers, scurried forward to whisper something in his ear. “Oh,” said the steward. “Apologies, my Vigor, it seems there’s been a slight change in your companionship for the night.”

A’khyl bristled. It would be just like his older brother to reappoint their consorts based on his preference. Never the less, he followed the steward down a different corridor. As they walked, the décor became more elaborate. Here the walls were carved with glistening friezes depicting reindeer pulling sledges and cervine gods passing down gifts to the royal families of generations long past.

The steward stopped in front of an arched doorway. “Your companion will be with you soon,” he said. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

There was no door, so to maintain privacy there was a short, curving hallway into the bed chamber. When he emerged inside, A’khyl had to take a moment to take in the splendor.

The room boasted high ceilings and similarly elaborate friezes to the hallway, except some extended into the room in full sculptures of prancing deer. At the end of the room was an alcove with steps leading into it. Ample furs had been laid in the alcove and candles gave the interior a warm light. As he stepped into the alcove, he noticed a banner adorning the wall inside, dyed with the rich blue colours of the Northern Kingdom. Mounted on it was a pair of antlers, eight-pointed and impressive. It immediately struck A’khyl as odd that a cervine kingdom would decorate its walls with antlers.

“They’re a measure of status,” said a voice from behind him. A’khyl turned sharply to take in the most beautiful elk he’d ever seen. He had seal-pointed buckskin fur and a thick ruff to rival A'khyl's own mane. Around his waist was a simple leather wrap with fur trim. His antlers were decorated with intricate jewelry, silver wire wrapping around them in curving patterns and blue jewels twinkling from rings and chains.

He was also familiar. A’khyl had met him briefly that very morning. He’d been seated at the left hand of the queen.

It was her son, the Prince Ciaran.

“We shed our antlers once a year,” Ciaran continued, ignoring how A’khyl gawked at him. “The largest pair we’ve ever grown are mounted in our chambers as a show of our strength and growth. The more points, the better,” he explained. He tilted his head to one side, regarding the antlers with a musing expression. “I still have a ways to go if I’m to rival my father’s. They were the ones in the throne room.”

A’khyl knew them. They were difficult to miss, towering atop the Queen’s throne.

“I apologize,” A’khyl started to say, “the steward must have been mistaken and taken me to the wrong chamber.”

Ciaran laughed. “There was no mistake,” he said. The elk reached down and undid a tie on the leather wrap. It fell from around his waist and pooled around his hooves. “I asked for you specifically.”

A’khyl momentarily forgot how to speak. He may have been the predator, but he felt more like prey as Ciaran mounted the steps into the alcove. A’khyl swallowed. The elk had long, slender legs, and between them hung a long, slender cock to match.

He finally found his voice. “I’m engaged.”

“As am I. To a man I don’t love and who doesn’t love me. A situation I’m sure you’re familiar with?” Ciaran advanced, kneeling on the furs and touching a hand to A’khyl’s chest. “Your brother also asked for me specifically, but I told him I had another engagement.” There eyes met for a burning moment. “I don’t want him. I want you.”

A’khyl’s heart gave a pathetic, desperate thump as Ciaran threw a leg over his hips to straddle him. Staring up into Ciaran’s deep, blue eyes, it was impossible to resist. All sense of duty and responsibility failed him. The elk leaned down, pressing their lips together in a soft, insistent kiss, and all of A’khyl’s resistance melted away. It was so cold, but Ciaran’s warmth seeped into his bones and stoked a flame in his heart.

No one had chosen A’khyl over his brother before.

Tentative at first, A’khyl raised a paw to Ciaran’s neck and threaded his fingers through the thick fur there, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Ciaran’s hands fisted in his mane too, drawing him closer. His tongue slid sensuously against the lion’s lower lip, then inside. With that, the flame in A’khyl’s chest grew to a roaring blaze, and they fell backwards into the furs to kiss in earnest.

Ciaran was sinuous and incorrigible atop him, bearing his hips down into A’khyl’s so there was no ignoring his arousal. Frotting like inexperienced teenagers, their cocks slid together, wet with precum. Ciaran finally let out a sound, a small strangled cry, when A’khyl’s free hand gripped his backside and dragged their bodies closer.

A’khyl thought this would be a very short tryst indeed if Ciaran made that noise again, but instead the elk withdrew, keeping A’khyl where he was with a firm hand on his chest. A second later, A’khyl realized what was happening.

Ciaran kneeled over his straining erection, wiggling his hips until he was positioned perfectly. A’khyl snatched at the elk’s wrist, panicked at the sight alone. He was a great deal larger than Ciaran.

A… very great deal.

“Let me prepare you first,” he said. Ciaran laughed again, a musical sound.

“You think I wouldn’t come prepared?” Ciaran pressed down and A’khyl understood immediately. He was slicked and pliant. The image of Ciaran on his back, legs spread, probing himself with an oil slicked finger and thinking of the lion prince inside of him flashed in his mind like a scarlet flag waved before a bull.

He let out a groan. Ciaran braced both hands against the lion’s chest, arched his back and shallowly humped A’khyl’s cock – only taking the head, but it was enough. A’khyl threw his head back and a purr reverberated in his chest like the rumble of distant thunder. “Yes,” he gritted out. “Ohh… oh gods.”

“There are no gods here,” Ciaran whispered back, voice husky with strain. “Just me.” And he took A’khyl to the root, fitting on his cock like a glove. He rolled his hips, letting out a full-throated moan, testing the feel of that thick, engorged cock filling him entirely.

A’khyl lasted as long as he was able. Ciaran humped his cock with the sort of enthusiasm A’khyl could never have found in the South. He bit his lip and thrust into the movement. When he looked down, it was to see Ciaran’s fully erect cock bouncing against his navel, strings of precum swinging and sticking between them, while his own cock vanished in and out of the elk’s tight ass. When he looked up, it was into the gasping, moaning face of a man who enjoyed nothing more than this – being filled up and stretched and bred.

“Ciaran, I’m-“

“I know, me too,” came the choked reply. And with that Ciaran slammed his hips down, burying A’khyl all the way inside him and spurting ropes of sticky cum onto their bare chests. A’khyl’s balls throbbed against the elk’s ass, unloading everything he had. Ciaran found it enough in his wobbly legs to give A’khyl a few more persuasive humps to draw out their orgasms. He took A’khyl’s paw and drew the thumb into his mouth, sucking, not breaking eye contact, promising that this was not the last time they would meet like this.

When A’khyl was finally released from his grip, it was to be overwhelmed with a boneless exhaustion only obtained from a thorough fucking. Panting, he looked down to see the mess they’d made. Their fur was drenched in sweat and cum, connected by stringing webs of it. A’khyl leaned forward to drag his rough tongue up the elk’s neck in silent gratitude. Ciaran lifted off his softening cock and promptly collapsed against his chest.

Once he’d regained his breath, Ciaran said, “I can call the servants in to clean us up.”

“Let them wait,” A’khyl said, still coming off the high. He’d fucked the prince of their allied country. The prince who’d wanted him badly enough to risk a diplomatic incident. Looking at Ciaran’s peaceful face, he wondered how it was possible that the elk’s betrothed did not love him.

After a time of basking in one another, Ciaran did call in the servants. They were quick and efficient, never lingering too long in any one area with their warm cloths. Once the traces of their affair had been mopped from their fur, the servants left.

“You trust your servants not to tell?” the lion asked as Ciaran tied his clothes back on.

“Where would be the fun in that?”

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Hope you enjoy it!