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La raison du plus fort est toujours la meilleure. Nous l'allons montrer tout à l'heure.
— Le loup et l'agneau, Jean De La Fontaine
-
Grace has gone hungry for long enough that his desperation is outweighing his pride, or if he was being more generous with himself, he was just taking pride in his nature as a fox. His neck of the woods is barren, leaving him with nothing to take from it. His river is dry with drought, his trees bear no fruit, and there is no other creature in his forest for him to devour.
However… there is a pasture downstream with a shepherd and three rabid mutts that guard the flock of sheep that graze there. He’s not interested in dying, which means he has no interest in them. No, what catches his eye is much more simple than that.
A lamb wanders off into the grove to drink, just like it has for however long Grace has been watching it.
The lamb isn’t small by any means—and jealousy curls up in his aching stomach at that—with how well fed its beloved shepherd seems to keep it. Perhaps it’s meant to be fattened up? It must be a lamb for slaughter then. It’s almost a shame that he’ll have to eat it before it’s ripe for the taking, though he’s already lucky enough that the poor thing’s gait is broken by a missing arm. It's less meat, but he'll take what he can get.
He can’t help but sigh as he stalks closer to his prey, hoping for an easy hunt. He doesn't want to think about how desperate he looks, but he's starving and the lamb is right there in front of him. He’s well within his rights to eat, isn’t he? It’s hunt or be hunted, and he grows hungry just like everyone else.
There is no sin in his continued survival.
It’s the easiest choice.
The lamb’s head dips into the water and there is nothing Grace would love more than to sink his teeth into its awaiting neck. But he is a jealous and prideful thing; he is a fox and not a wolf. He’s gotta have a bit of fun. Besides, it’s been too long since he’s been looked at with fear instead of pity.
He pads into the small clearing within the copse of trees, his nose flaring at the sweet scent of lamb. So close he can already taste it.
“What are you doing here, little lamb? Don’t you know that this is my river?”
The lamb jumps and stumbles backwards, and if it had hackles Grace is sure they’d be raised. Instead, its eyes dart to and fro to look for an exit. When it finds none, it draws up to full height and looks him right in the eye.
Smaller than him, Grace notes. Good.
“This stream is a hundred yards from your territory,” it bleats, looking back in the direction of the pasture for a moment. “Why are you looking for water here?”
Grace can’t help the way his lips curl in amusement, a laugh like a series of rattling clicks making its way out of his throat at the lamb’s audacity. “Why are you looking for water here? Doesn’t your shepherd give you enough to drink?”
The lamb has the nerve to look offended. “Our shepherd lets us live off of the land. He says that every seed-bearing plant in this clearing is ours to eat. I’m free to roam here.”
“Are you? It’s more my territory than yours.”
The lamb’s nose twitches, and Grace can’t help but think that the way it scrunches up is adorable. “I don’t smell any of your claim here.”
“What do you know, sheep? My nose is stronger than yours,” Grace laughs, darting close to its neck to give a mocking sniff.
“Don’t call me sheep. My name is Simon!” The lamb huffs, blowing air out of its nose—torn between standing its ground and dodging Grace’s snout.
The lamb stomps its feet into the soft earth and lowers its head as if to attack, but all Grace can see is submission. He springs forward once again, this time with a snap of his jaws, and he can’t help but smile as the lamb turns its back to his forest in its haste to get away from him. It demands Grace to not call it a sheep, but it’s so easily herded to right where he wants it. He wonders if it obeys even easier to the dogs directing its flock.
Grace stalks forward with saliva dripping down his mouth, and the lamb backs itself deeper into a corner. “You drink from my river and sleep in my forest. Doesn’t that make you mine as well? If you think about it, I’ve provided for you more than your own shepherd has.”
“I—” The lamb steps on a dry branch and flinches at the noise, its false bravado vanishing in an instant. Grace takes the opportunity to pounce and finally sink his teeth into its neck. Blood pours into his mouth and it’s as sweet as he imagined. He wrestles himself on top of the lamb’s back and pins its arm behind it. His legs cage the lamb on either side with his hips flush to the meat of its rear.
“Please! I was—” it chokes, tears welling up in its eyes, “I was only born last spring. You—”
Grace grabs a fistful of the lamb’s hair and pulls its face away from the forest floor, dislodging his teeth from its flesh with a cruel laugh. “Okay, then. Let’s hear your excuses.”
“There are… older sheep than me," it pants, blood running down from its neck to the soft white cardigan of its coat. The way the red stains its wool is so, so pretty that Grace couldn’t resist darting his tongue out for another taste. The lamb flinches and shouts "They're bigger than me too!" It closes its eyes, cowering away from him. "They’d fill you up more than an innocent lamb—”
Grace shoves its face back into the dirt and digs his knees into its ribs. A new kind of hunger stirring in his gut as he takes in their position. “Innocent? I think I’ll be the judge of that. Besides, I think you’re plenty big enough to satisfy me, buddy.”
The lamb tries to buck from his hold, only succeeding in pressing its ass against Grace’s growing hardness. He growls in arousal at the sudden friction, and the lamb must feel it too with how it yelps and falls back down onto the ground. Grace shifts his hips and grinds down harshly, slipping and rutting between its soft cheeks without much care for accuracy. The lamb cries out in fear and shame, every attempt to move away only serving to push itself back onto Grace’s cock.
“No, please! Please don’t eat me,” it begs, whimpering as Grace presses it harder into the ground. “Fuck, I'll only make you full for a day!”
Grace’s hips grind to a halt, willing to hear the poor thing out even if it’s just to drag this on for longer. “And whaddya mean by that?”
The lamb hiccups, words streaming out of it in desperation. "If you fuck me and kill me or whatever you're planning to do," it spits, angry tears spilling out from its eyes, "you’ll only eat for a day, or however long you’ll ration my body for.” The gravity of situation finally seems to hit the lamb as soon as it gets the words out, causing it to clam up with fear.
Grace nips at its bloodied shoulder in annoyance, grinding his cock back down and almost breaching its hole. “Keep. Talking.”
The lamb gasps, trying to get air back into its lungs and laying as still as it can on the ground. “I won’t be enough for you. You’d have to hunt for another sheep again and no one else but me wanders this far past the clearing.” It turns to face Grace and there is rage and desperation in its dark eyes, so much so that its body starts to shake with it. “The flock and the shepherd will know that I’ve gone missing, a-and they’ll hunt you down with the dogs an—”
“Enough.” Grace tightens his grip on the lamb’s hair and pushes its face back into the dirt. His other hand moves from restraining its arm to shoving a finger into its wet and ready hole. One finger becomes two, and then three, until he’s shoving them in and out impatiently to the sound of the lamb’s pitiful cries. It only takes a few more seconds for him to get restless and remove his fingers, attempting to shove his cock in once, twice, until the tip finally catches its rim.
“Your shepherd and your dogs have taken enough from me,” he grunts, burying himself to the hilt as the lamb cries out in pain. “Your shepherd orders those mutts to hunt me down until I’m driven out of my own home!” He feels it shaking under him, begging him to stop. It's sick that he's taking so much pleasure from this, but he can't bring himself to care. He thrusts in and out in a rabid frenzy and he has never felt so alive. “I’m only paying back their generosity.”
The lamb bucks from under him, choking on its cries when that only serves to drive Grace’s cock further into its hole. “No— I can't! Please don’t do it,” it sobs. “Take what you want, just don't fucking kill me. Please, I just wanna li—”
The spank surprises both Grace—right, umm, Simon did say he wanted him to get rough—and the lamb, with Grace staring at his stinging hand in a daze.
“You,” Grace clears his throat, moving his hand to smooth his knuckles over Simon’s hip. He leans down to bury his face into his shoulder and waits for the okay to continue. Simon nods and huffs in affection, gently knocking his head back against Grace’s. Oh, thank goodness. Grace hides his smile with the cardigan, before pressing a kiss to a spot behind the lamb's ear.
“You don’t exactly have any room to make demands, sweetheart.” He starts thrusting again in earnest. “You’re gonna have to make a more compelling case as to why I’m gonna have to let you live.”
“I told you—” The lamb's reply gets cut short with a moan, shuddering around the fingers Grace uses to spread its cheeks apart. Grace pulls back from his shoulder to get a better view of his handiwork, and just watching the way its little hole sucks his cock back in like it’s tailor made to take him has him getting lightheaded.
He wonders if it’ll take his knot just as easily.
“I already said that you wouldn’t be satisfied with just me on the menu,” the lamb bites out. Literally. Somehow, the feisty little thing has enough fight left in it to turn its head and snap at the hand Grace is using to keep it held down.
It doesn't get far, but he makes sure to discipline it with another spank. The slap echoes in the clearing and he almost wishes there was someone else to hear it—to defile the lamb with its flock watching just to humiliate it further. "Did you seriously think that would get you anywhere?" he can’t help but coo at its little attempt, satisfaction curling in his gut when it realises just how bad of a decision that was.
Grace retaliates with a bite of his own, and the lamb’s choked off gasp is almost as sweet as the tender flesh of its nape. He keeps a hand pressed onto the lamb’s back and rams into it over and over and over until his knees creak from digging into the soft dirt around its ribs. The lamb's cries taper off into pathetic whimpers, groaning in pain or what Grace hopes is pleasure. He doesn't really care if the lamb feels good or not, but he imagines the shame burning in its chest when it realises that it's enjoying this too.
Its hole feels like velvet around Grace, tight like he expected, but already leaking with want. It surprised him at first, how the lamb’s hole was wet with slick even before he put his cock in, but it makes sense. The little lamb must be so sensitive, leaking like a faucet at the slightest bit of stimulation.
Grace is the first thing it’s ever taken. The only thing if Grace has anything to say about it.
The lamb’s eyes have grown hazy as it looks up at him from the edge of its vision, a blush spreading up from its cheeks to its ears to the side of its neck. It’s desperately trying to hide its moans by keeping its mouth resolutely closed, but it can’t quite manage it when it needs to pant for air every time Grace drives his cock in further. On one particular thrust, the lamb moans loud enough to be heard beyond the clearing. Grace can’t help but feel flattered as it whines in embarassment. Bingo.
It doesn't take long before he can feel himself getting close, his cock throbbing from where it’s buried inside the lamb's tightness. He's not gonna last if he continues, so he brushes Simon’s hair away from his face, wiping at some of the drool that’s dribbled out of the corner of his mouth.
“Learned your lesson yet?” he wheezes, leaning back to sit on his haunches. He stops to catch his breath, though he pushes back in just a bit to keep part of his cock buried in the tight wet heat.
Simon matches his breathing, shifting under him before wiggling back a bit more onto his cock. They sit there for a moment until Grace pats Simon's hip. He counts and gets to 7 seconds before Simon furrows his brows and snarls, getting back into character.
“Fuck you. You’ve got nothing to teach me.”
Grace’s hand comes back down on the lamb's meaty ass, and the yelp that comes out has him laughing at how much it sounds like a mating call. “I can keep going, you know.”
“Fuck off! Why don’t you just eat me already, you sick fuck?”
“Jeez, what happened to being an innocent little lamb? You drink from your mother with that mouth?”
He’s pretty sure Simon is holding back a snort before something flashes in the lamb’s eyes and it starts bucking again in his hold. Fudge that feels good around him, if only he could get it to ride him. “Get my mother’s name out of your mouth, you fucking bast—”
Grace thrusts back in with a moan, shushing the lamb’s surprised yelp as he bottoms out into its lovely heat. He’s getting close to popping his knot, he can feel it. He moves to rest his chin on the lamb’s shoulder, his hand trailing down from its ass to splay across its stomach posessively. He presses a kiss to its temple. “It’s just like you said, you know?”
“What?”
“Why I haven’t eaten you,” Grace giggles, a plan getting clearer in his head. “Just one of you wouldn’t satisfy me.”
He pulls out of the lamb and caresses its side. It almost hurts to extinguish the hope he can see building up in its eyes when he hooks his arm around its torso, flipping it onto its back. He grabs hold of its wrist and manages to keep its arm pinned to the ground atop its head in its surprise.
“The fuck are you doing?!” The stubborn little lamb yelps, trying to wrestle out of his hold again, though too weak and tired to give him any real trouble.
“If I eat you,” Grace grits out, trapping one of its legs under his and trying to grab the other to push it back up to behind its ear, “then I’d only get to eat today. If I keep you alive—I’d have to wait for five months, sure—but I can keep… eating my fill,” he pants, finally getting a good grip on its foot, “if I’m patient enough. And trust me, I am—”
The lamb pulls its foot back and manages to free its ankle from his grasp, kicking back at his face in retaliation. It only manages a glancing swipe at his cheek, but that won’t do now, would it?
“Okay,” he huffs, giving up on keeping the lamb’s leg up and instead wrangling it under him, “I was gonna be nice!” He grabs one of its breasts—what a handful despite how young it claims to be—and gives it a good squeeze before pinching its teat between his thumb and forefinger. “It was the optimal position, you know? But you just have to be so damn stubborn.”
The lamb opens its mouth to retort, but the only thing that comes out is a moan as Grace keeps massaging its chest. He’s almost disappointed that nothing comes out from his efforts, but he’s not surprised when he hasn’t had his way with it yet, has he? Soon the lamb’s breasts would fill out—and not just from maturing—and Grace would have a drink to go with his food.
“Stop fucking with me! Just get on with it,” it cries, losing all the fight in its body as its tears begin to fall again. Grace feels it go limp, though its wrist tenses under his hold. He gets the impression that it wants to cover its face, splotchy from crying and its arousal. “Just tell me what the fuck you want from me.”
He looks so beautiful like this.
Grace leans down to press a soft kiss against the lamb’s tear-streaked cheek, one more on a closed eyelid, and another to its forehead. He moves his forearm to rest beside the lamb’s head, fingers gently brushing away the hair sticking to his face. He pushes himself up to be able to look at Simon better before shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
“You,” Grace breathes, lining up his cock to sink into the lamb’s tight heat once again. “I just want you.”
He thinks he hears the lamb moan with him when he bottoms out, but he pays it no mind when pushing in all the way reminds him of how close he really is. He imagines he can’t be the only one this affected, so his eyes wander down to what he’s been neglecting the entire time. Sure, he hasn’t deigned to give it any attention, but it’s pretty hard not to notice the lamb’s huge cock steadily leaking and twitching against its stomach every few seconds.
Less than a year old, it says. Yeah fudging right.
Precome beads up at the head and Grace’s mouth waters for a different reason—no, that’ll have to wait. He can save that meal for later. The lamb clenches his hole, almost as if he can tell how distracted Grace is in the moment, surprising him into thrusting up and punching out a moan from the both of them. Right, he has a mission to accomplish.
“Gonna—” he grunts, thrusting as hard as he can, “I’m gonna pop my knot soon. Gonna keep you on my cock a–and pump you full of my seed.”
“No— Please…” the lamb slurs, its denial lost in the midst of its moaning. It’s barely even fighting him anymore, making a token effort of trying to get off of Grace—pushing up to get away before giving up and sinking back down. The act only serves to bounce the lamb on his cock, meeting him halfway down in an uneven rhythm. God, he’s so close he can feel it.
“It’s only fair.” He’s lost in the haze of his own arousal, barely even aware of the words he’s saying. He’ll get his point across either way. All he’s cognizant of is the lamb so tight, and warm, and willing around him—moaning so prettily right into his ear.
“You’re gonna be keeping me full, so I gotta fill you up too. Don't worry, I'll take good care of you. I’ll keep you well fed, ‘cus you’ll be round with my litter soon enough.” The lamb will look even prettier like that—full of Grace and full of lambs of its own. He’ll make sure to keep it bred all year-round since it’s what the lamb was probably born for anyway.
“You’re already so good for me, giving me this idea. Almost like you wanted this in the first pl—”
“You’re fucking sick, you kn—oh god, fuck me—”
Grace laughs, delirious with pleasure. “I am!” Just a bit more. Just a bit more.
The lamb shakes from under him, or maybe that’s Grace himself, he can’t really tell anymore. It sniffles, tear tracks drying on its face, so Grace leans down to nuzzle it in comfort. “Please! I can't—”
“You take it so well. I won’t even have to wait long. It’ll take immediately, and if it doesn’t, we’ll have all the time in the wor—”
He almost doesn’t notice it in the midst of chasing his own orgasm until, “Stop. Please—It hurts. It’s too much—I can’t—” finally draws his attention to the mess painting both of their stomachs, the lamb’s cock softening as it spurts more cum in cute little twitches.
Grace watches entranced, giving an experimental thrust back into the lamb just to see its cock give another weak twitch at the stimulation. He pushes in again, and again, keeping his thrusts shallow as he keeps an eye on its face.
The lamb tilts its head back and exposes its neck.
Grace takes the invitation, laying his head against the lamb’s cardigan and nosing up the column of its throat. Before he sinks his teeth back in, he settles a hand on Simon’s hip and waits. He feels the rise and fall of Simon’s chest while he settles his breathing, and Grace’s eyes flutter close at the rhythmic movement. He feels Simon lay his cheek against his hair, and a kiss pressed to the crown of his head spurs Grace to start moving again.
Exhaustion laces his movements, but it only takes a few more thrusts before he’s spilling his seed into the lamb, both of them moaning at the act.
“Ngh… feels so good…” he hears Simon whisper above him, hole fluttering around his spent cock. A small, tired smile creeps up on Grace's face for a job well done. He splays his hand across Simon’s stomach, rubbing as if that helps their chances.
He plans on another claiming bite to Simon’s neck, but really he feels more like he’s gnawing on a chew toy, uncaring of the spit he’s spilling down his clavicle. He pulls out because he’s sensitive too, darn it, but he makes sure to shimmy his fingers down to Simon’s hole, pushing his cum back in every time it tries to leak out.
Simon moans but laughs at his efforts, and well—Grace is still in charge, so he fiddles around in the cardigan’s pockets and, “Aha!”
“What are you— Ough!”
Grace laughs as he replaces his fingers with the tail plug they prepared beforehand. White, fluffy, and absolutely adorable nestled between Simon’s asscheeks.
“Fuck off,” Simon huffs, and Grace doesn’t have to look up to perfectly picture the look of exasperated affection he knows is on his face.
“Don’t act like you weren’t the one asking for it!” he smiles, teasing. “Besides, we gotta make sure it takes.”
“Well… you’re a fox, and I’m a sheep. So, I think two plus one doesn’t equal four, Mr. Biologist.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m Mr. Biologist, so I know better than you! I’ll get you pregna—” Grace pokes at Simon’s tummy before getting rudely interrupted by his own stomach rumbling.
"Oh, gue—Ah!" he yelps as Simon sits up, moving him with ease to cradle him in his lap. Unfair, really. Grace’s limbs feel like pulverized jelly, and here’s Simon manhandling him like he wasn’t getting pounded within an inch of his life just minutes ago.
“We’re going back to the house now,” Simon decides, standing up and maneuvering Grace around to carry him properly.
“The den! It’s my den!”
“Scene’s over,” Simon huffs, looking around to make sure they didn’t leave anything. He makes his way out of the clearing and onto a soft sandy path leading back to their house just a few meters away. “Next time, I’m fucking you on the bed. Your joints aren’t gonna be happy with you tomorrow.”
“God, yeah. It was hot though.”
“Yeah. It was.”
-
“Hey, Simon?” Grace asks as he lounges in the comfort of their bed. They’re both fresh from the shower (and maybe also another quick round in the shower), so he’s definitely more than ready to pass out, but—
“Yeah?” Simon answers absentmindedly, taking an apple slice from an insistent Armando.
“What do you think of Adrocky? Rocky Jr. and Adrian Jr. if they’re twins, and usually they are with sheep—”
“Hey, Ry?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
He doesn't get any chance to retort when Simon leans down to kiss him.
Ah, his lamb has never tasted sweeter.