Simba’s head was spinning. So much was happening everywhere he looked. Here, his father’s enormous cock, making Kula gag. To the left, he could see his mother’s rump through the grass, her tail lifted slightly as she pushed her paw between Tama’s legs. He tried to look away. Tried not to think about either of his parents, but it was all too much. He couldn’t help it. With a low moan, he felt himself tipping over the edge, spraying into Malka’s suckling muzzle without a hint of warning.

Malka made a gagging sound, but recovered without even lifting his head. Simba kept his eyes closed, trying to steady the entire world, if only in his mind. His paws clutched at Malka’s ear tufts, stroking them as the soft enveloping warmth of the other boy’s muzzle coaxed his body into relaxation.

When he was spent, he found his mind more at ease as well. Malka looked around as if wondering what to do, his cheeks puffed out. He looked at the ground, but then swallowed Simba’s load with a mighty gulp. The other cub looked around as well, wincing a little at the scene.

“I guess Tama had it coming,” he offered after a moment, as if unsure what to say. Then he looked embarrassed and dropped his head. “Guess I had it coming too,” he added. “I should be there with them.” His head swung in Nala’s direction, and his ears drooped.

“You like her, huh?” Simba asked, rising to stand by Malka’s side.

“Yeah,” Malka sighed. “I thought she was perfect. I really did.”

Simba cocked his head. “Thought?”

“Well, yeah. She wanted us to punish you as much as anyone. She enjoyed it. I mean, I think she really believed it was the right thing but… I know she enjoyed it, too. She was mean, and I did what she said. Everything....” Malka scuffed at the ground with a paw. “She’s still amazing, but… Not perfect.”

“Yeah.” Simba sat, looking at Malka’s drooping ears. “Me neither,” he admitted. “Not even close. I got so jealous! It was like you were her new best friend, and… and, well, you know. I was supposed to treat you right, cause you’re my friends, but I was super bossy. Like you were supposed to do what I say just ‘cause of my dad. I guess I got scared, like, a lot. All I could think to do was try to make you do what I wanted, cause I’m the prince, but… I dunno… I don’t think it was a very prince-like thing to do. I wanted you to respect me, but I did the opposite.”

“Well, I know about the scary part,” Malka nodded. “I lose my pride all the time, you know. That’s really scary. Every time. I’ve gotten good at not showing it, but it’s there. I guess sometimes I show off, cause it makes me feel better. But I still know I’ll be afraid again anyway.”

Simba giggled. “I should have thought of that.”

“What?”

“You were probably just following Nala around so much so you wouldn’t get lost!”

Both boys laughed a little, covering their muzzles.

“I really could lose my own tail,” Malka agreed with a small nod. He paused and stole another glance at Nala and Scar before looking away. “I like Nala a lot. But I always knew you did too. I wasn’t trying to take her away from you. Being around her just made me feel, well, less afraid. And she’s fun. I didn’t want her to leave you out of things but, well, uh…”

“I was a jerk?” Simba finished for him.

“Um… 	well, a little… A little, yeah,” Malka said, glancing towards Mufasa as if the big lion might come right over and punish him for saying so.

“No, a lot,” Simba supplied. “You can say it. I’m not afraid of it any more.”

“I’d rather not,” Malka said, and Simba giggled.

“Okay, I’ll say it for you. I was a big jerk. I had time to think. I didn’t know what to do... what to say. Anything. But…I did know for sure she was lying. Tama, I mean. So I kept wondering... why her? Why’d you believe her over me? Even Nala did. I was angry. So, so angry. But I kept asking that question and, well… I figured it out.

Simba picked a claw in the dirt, choosing his words. “It wasn’t my fault that you were mean to me, but it was my fault that I was mean to you. If I hadn’t done that, then I bet you would have believed me when Tama lied. And, I guess, for some reason Tama was extra mad and she…” he trailed off, and Malka turned to look in the direction of Tama and Sarabi, wincing a little at the sounds filtering through the reeds.

“She didn’t force anybody,” Malka sighed. “And Nala didn’t force me. We made a big mistake, Simba. I’m so, so sorry. I know you probably won’t ever forgive us.”

Simba was quiet, his head turning with Malka. “Maybe,” he acknowledged, gaze distant. “I dunno know, yet.”

Malka nodded.

“But… I don’t wanna be angry, Malka. Not forever.” Simba continued. “My mom said it’s like a thorn, and… I don’t think pulling the thorn out counts if I just carry it around and put it back in.”

“Your mom’s smart,” Malka nodded, even though he didn’t really understand. Simba nodded in agreement. “And scary,” he added, wincing again as a cry rang out.

“She was scared for me. I can tell.” Simba said in a small voice. “I wanna be a lot better. So mom’s never scared for me again.”

“I know… I know we’re not _really_ brothers,” Malka said, dropping his gaze. “But I’d like to try to help. You know. If I can. When I can. I don’t wanna be wrong like this ever again, either. Even if we can’t be friends. I think it’s the right thing to do; to help, somehow.”

Simba looked sidelong at Malka. He had _hated_ the idea of them being brothers ever since Mufasa and Sarabi had taken the cub in. It had felt like a huge threat to everything the young prince had ever known. But he’d never had a brother. And now, realizing he would always be the prince, no matter what, was a brother really so bad? Scar was still prince, after all, even with his brother as king, wasn’t he? And they had been friends forever! Images of Malka, standing firm and defiant in front of Scar flashed in front of him.

“That’s what I’m gonna do,” Malka continued with determination. “I’m gonna be a good brother, even if you never talk to me again! And the next time anycub tries to bully you, they can deal with me!”

Simba smiled. “Thanks,” he offered. “I don’t know what I feel, yet. But I think I’ll figure it out. Someday.”

Malka nodded, accepting that answer. He glanced along Simba’s side. “I was serious before, though. I still— Still think you should mount me, Simba. I think you should feel like the prince. Knowing it and feeling it are different, aren’t they?”

Simba looked up in surprise. At first the offer had seemed hollow and unappealing. But was Malka right?

“I guess maybe they are?” He wondered aloud. He hadn’t thought of that at all. He knew he was secure as the prince, now. He knew he would behave differently. But what did he feel? When he looked up, eyes roaming to his friends being punished, he just felt sad. Sad as he remembered what they had done to him, even while a part of him wanted to rush in and stop the adults from administering his own justice. But that didn’t make sense. That wasn’t what his mom had taught him about justice. Maybe what he felt did matter, after all.

“You might be right, Malka,” he said, using the other cub’s name for the first time that day. “Maybe that would help.”

Only as he was saying it did it occur to Simba, that he had never mounted another male before and had no idea how to go about it. A brief surge of nervousness washed through him. He felt that nervousness spark into fear, and then anger, so clearly he almost gasped.

It reminded him of a bad storm he had seen when he was very young. A  lightning bolt had streaked from the sky as the pride watched, blasting a tree in the open savannah to splinters and setting the remnants aflame. He had felt a sharp, unidentifiable horror as the tree changed from one thing into another.

And now, an urge to jeer at Malka rolled through him from tail to nose, setting the fur all along his spine on end. He wanted to make sure the other boy knew his place. To make him grovel. Anything to distract from the prince’s own clumsiness. But Simba said nothing, as he observed himself suddenly split into two lions. He had gone between one and the other in less than a blink. Just like the bolt of lightning striking the tree into two. And now, seeing them both so clearly, he realized there was a choice.

“Lean down,” Simba said to Malka, his voice catching. He took a breath and steadied. “I haven’t done this before, from on top. But when you did it with me, it hurt. I think you gotta wet it up first.”

Malka’s ears flipped down and back up, caught between apology and confusion. “Like this?” He asked, stretching out a little and lifting his tail just a bit. “Y-you know you can do it just the same as we did. I don’t mind. It’s fair.”

“It’s my decision,” was all Simba said, taking a step closer. He hesitated for one scant moment, and that hesitation told him everything he needed to know. He was doing what he wanted, and was going to do what he wanted. There was no need to hesitate at all.

“O-Okay,” Malka acquiesced. “If you’re sure.”
 
The prince pressed his muzzle under Malka’s tail and the other boy gasped out loud, making an odd hunching motion against the prince’s muzzle. “Ah, Simba!” he hissed, tail suddenly shooting up high.

Simba let his tongue roam. Malka’s tail tasted of sweat and musk—distinctly male—but the taste wasn’t unpleasant. He found it surprisingly subtle and interesting. The cub spat a little, getting more liquid in his mouth and spitting it on Malka’s pink tail hole, spreading it with his tongue for a moment longer.

“See? It’s just gotta get wet,” Simba said, licking his lips. He pushed his muzzle back to Malka’s rump, slathering a tongue-full of spit onto the other boy’s hole. Pushing with his tongue so it seemed well-coated inside and out.

“Yeah, but… But… Should I… unf…. be making you feel good?” Malka groaned back.

“No, you should do what I tell you,” Simba said back, a little laugh in his voice. “You’re not going to make me be bossy again, are you? I’m really good at it, you know.”

Malka broke into a laugh, his nervousness evaporating in an instant.

“I guess not,” he agreed.

“Ohhhh,” Simba’s eyes got wide. “I just figured out why you’re being so, uh… weird.”

“I am?” Malka asked, ears twitching.

“Well, yeah. I thought you were just afraid of my dad. But you’re afraid of doing something I don’t want you to do.”

“Well, no. Not really that.” Malka kicked a paw. “I just don’t want you to… to… you know, take it easy on me. I don’t know why you would, to be honest. After what we did to you… You should want my hide! I want to make things right and this just… isn’t fair. For you”

Simba’s eyes darkened for a moment. “There’s nothing you can do to make it fair, Malka,” he growled. “You treated me like trash. All of you. It’s not going to _be_ ‘right’. Not for a long time. Don’t you get it?”

Malka sat back on his haunches, ears low. “I… I don’t know…”

“I’m doing what I want now, Malka,” Simba growled. “And I can do anything I want with you. That’s what you don’t get. _I_ decide what is right and fair, now. What you think doesn’t matter. I can even do this.”

Simba strode past Malka without a glance. He cleared his throat and shouted. “I have something to say!”

Mufasa and Sarafina looked up first, surprise coloring their faces. Simba turned towards Scar and Nala, blushing as he realized Scar’s paw was beneath her tail. The lion lifted his head from Nala’s nape, green eyes flashing.

“Look who found his voice,” his uncle growled. Simba thought he might be teasing, but he decided he didn’t care.

A moment later Sarabi strode from the grasses, Tama stepping meekly behind, her face streaked with tears and what Simba assumed was mud.

“Simba?” Sarabi questioned, concern in her eyes.

Malka looked among the adults and realized they were all looking at him as well. The cub gulped.

“I have something to say,” Simba repeated. “Malka doesn’t have to do what I say any more. Dad said he had to obey me. I’ve thought about it, and I don’t want Malka obeying because he has to. I want him to do what he thinks is right…” Simba paused as if thinking of something more eloquent to say, but simply stamped and said “Okay?”

Mufasa looked between the two boys, his gaze stern. Malka shrank back, making himself small again, sure that some sort of discipline was about to fall on him.

“This is your decision, Simba?” the king asked, his voice rumbling.

“Yes,” Simba said with conviction and a single nod. “It’s what I want.”

Mufasa and Sarabi shared a significant glance, before the king’s attention returned to Simba. “Very well,” Mufasa nodded. “It is your decision alone. Let it be so. Malka, you will stay close until we return to Pride Rock. I won’t have you wandering.” His paw tightened a bit on Kula. “The rest will remain.”

“I… yes, sir,” Malka said in a small voice.

Mufasa looked at Simba and opened his mouth. Simba had the sense that he meant to ask “Are you sure?”, but the King only nodded after a moment, his attention turning back to the cub beneath his paw. One by one, the rest of the watchers went back to their duties, ignoring the two males as if further acknowledgement might drive them to distraction.

“See?” Simba said, turning back to Malka.  
 
“Oh Kings, I almost pissed myself,” Malka groaned. “Why did you do that?”

“Cause it’s what I wanted to do,” Simba shrugged. “Like I said. Now my dad can’t do anything to you, and you don’t have to obey me at all. So what do _you_ want to do, Malka?” Malka looked around. He caught Nala’s eye for just a moment, but then Scar pulled her attention back, obscuring her with his paw. His view of Chumvi was nearly entirely blocked by Sarafina, and Mufasa was speaking to Kula. He caught Tama’s gaze for just a split second, gazing at Simba. Her expression in that moment was terrible, full of fury. But then Sarabi turned, and the cub’s expression turned to fear and she walked back into the bushes, her head low. He was alone with Simba, again.

“I still feel like I need to make things right,” he said to Simba. Simba looked back at him but didn’t say anything. Malka looked around, mind spinning. Then his ears perked and a smile slowly spread on his muzzle. “Ooooohhh. Oh! I see what you mean!” He looked to Simba, his nearly-black eyes lighting in the sun. “Wow, Simba, that’s really smart!”

“Eh, Not that smart,” the prince laughed.  “I kinda had to see it the hard way, after all.”

“You think I need to do what I think is right, don’t you?” Malka cocked his head. “That’s what you want.”

Simba nodded firmly. “Yeah, you got it! That’s what I want, ‘cause I have to focus on being… on being a better lion, I guess. I dunno how to do that when I’m feeling so bad about everything. And nothing’s going to make everything better right now.” Simba shrugged one shoulder. “It hurts too much. But you said you were sorry. I know you got tricked. So yeah. You shouldn’t do anything cause I said so. Then I just have to worry about it, too.”

“Whoa,” Malka said. “I didn’t even think about it like that. Gee, I am sorry, and I meant everything I said earlier, you know. I’m going to do what’s right from now on!” Malka lowered his head a little, in a subtle display of submission, looking upwards towards Simba. “And to start that… Would you still mount me, Simba? Please? It’s what I want, now. It’s what I feel is right. If you wanna. I’d like to make you feel like a prince since I made you feel so bad and, well… Princes get to breed and feel good with their subjects. Well, with the lionesses. And there’s just me now, so… I’ll be your lioness! If you’ll let me, I mean.”

Simba smiled, stepping forward to touch noses with his friend. He almost pulled away, as revulsion to physical contact that had seeped deep into his mind over the last few days came up strong, but he held himself and fought through it.

“You can just be a lion,” he said in a breath. “But yes. I’ll mount you. I’d like that now.”

*****

Simba’s interruption had thrown Mufasa’s rhythm, but he did his best to put it out of mind. It was good that Simba had stood up, even if the king didn’t understand the particular direction he had done so. But he would find that out later, and he still had a job to be done. He closed his eyes, trying to spark arousal again.

Sarafina seemed to have had no trouble getting back to her duty, though. She stood like a warrior, flexing over Chumvi, his small cub penis in her paw. The sight of Sarafina like this had roused the king’s blood. Though he had a complicated relationship with his mistress of the hunt, she never failed to earn his respect. And to a lion, respect was everything. The knowledge—the disgust—that the muzzle around his maleness belonged to a cub faded from his mind, moment by moment. He watched Sarafina move. The absolute expertise of her paws. The athleticism in every motion of her hips. Though he adored and admired his queen, few lionesses could compare to Sarafina.

His mind was drawn to the first time he saw her. She had come to them, too young and pregnant. It was one of his father, Ahadi’s, last decrees that she would be made a member of the pride. Mufasa had vehemently disagreed. He was still grateful that his father had spared him from such a tremendous failure of judgement.

The cubs she bore never started their Circle, though, and from that moment she had given her everything to the Pride. Her destiny was as a warrior, not a mother, she said.

Mufasa turned his gaze towards Nala and his brother. The ripple of disgust returned, as he realized where Scar’s paw was and what it was doing. Hypocritical revulsion, which resolved itself to pleasure in the end, once he realized Nala looked not the least upset. In other circumstances, perhaps he would have found that odd but, as it was, he saw only the resemblance to her mother, even in pleasure. The only survivor of a litter she had sworn she would never have. A life of oaths broken for so many lions, and all around one cub. He would have never understood, if he were not a father himself. But he was. And so, in the end, his oath had broken as well.

He felt his cock twitch, and closed his eyes. The image of Scar’s paw beneath young Nala’s tail remained however, and in his imagination slowly morphed to even more lurid scenes. Scar on Nala’s back. Scar licking deep within the cub’s cub-furred pussy. Scar with his cock in Nala’s muzzle, delighting in the same, tight sensations that Mufasa was feeling in that moment. Shared.

Did it make it more wrong, that Scar would unknowingly be breeding his own daughter? Splashing her brothers and sisters down her throat, into her belly? Could it be, that it was that much more arousing?

Mufasa’s paw tightened a little, lost in his head. Rutting into Kula’s throat. The cub gagged and gasped, but the king gave no quarter. With a snarl that brought all eyes to the pair, the lion came. Kula, inexperienced and completely unaware, gaped as Mufasa’s cum hit the back of her throat with the force of a rushing river. She choked, the king’s seed splashing out of her nose and down the front of her muzzle and lips even as the gushes overwhelmed her throat, splashing onto the king’s sheath from the corners of her muzzle.

After a few moments that felt eternal, Mufasa pulled the cub back, letting her gasp in a deep breath. He continued cumming, splashing his seed into her gaping muzzle, over her soft bellyfur and curvaceous stomach.

*****

Both Simba and Malka had stopped what they were doing to watch the others, shrinking back together at Sarafina’s rough treatment of Chumvi, then turning their attention as Mufasa sprayed massive amounts of cum over Kula.

“Whoa,” they both gasped together as the Lion King jerked his cock over the still-coughing cub, splattering her from nose to belly in thick lion cream.

“I didn’t even know that was _possible_,” Malka whispered in an awed tone.

“Me either!” Simba agreed. “It’s like… Like…”

“A lot,” Malka agreed, when Simba failed to come up with a suitable analogy. “I saw a zebra playing with his weiner once.” The cub’s ears flipped up and down blushingly. “It was kind of like that.”

Simba gave a sharp little laugh then, when Malka giggled with him, laughed outright. “You saw a _zebra_ weeny?”

“Heh, yeah. He wasn’t hiding it very much. And I was lost at the time, so… uh… I saw. The whole thing. It’s pretty embarrassing, really.”

“Well I would have watched too,” Simba admitted. His eyes flitted down between Malka’s legs, eyeing the erection peeking from his golden sheath.

“He was a lot bigger than us, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Malka said.

“No, no, just thinking. What if you… you know.. you played with yourself while I mount you?”

“Oh. I guess I never thought of that,” Malka looked down at himself. His cock twitched a little and he brushed it lightly with his paw. “I guess… I guess I might as well, right?”

“That way it’d feel good for both of us, maybe,” Simba said, blushing a little. “I dunno, maybe that’s stupid.”

“No… No. I wanna try it,” Malka grinned. “Why not?” His smile waned after a moment, replaced by embarrassed confusion. “Uh… So… How do we start? Do I just bend over, I guess?”

“I think we start with getting each other wet. That way it’s easier.”

“Okay,” Malka grinned, stepping forward again. Simba quickly crouched and made himself available for the other cub, and huffed a gentle breath as Malka suckled him again. He could hear the wet smacks below, and put a paw on Malka’s back, pawing it gently in earnest delight. Malka’s suckles were much more confident this time, and Simba felt more confident as well, almost immediately thrusting a little onto his friend’s tongue to enjoy the rough sensation of it pulling on his barbs.

This wasn’t so bad at all.

Simba let Malka continue for a while, then murmured “I think I’m ready.” He could feel his arousal building. He looked at Malka’s body and found himself flooded with unexpected desire. “I want your rump,” he said out loud, without even intending to.

But it felt good to say.

Malka looked up, gave a small smile, and then turned, lifting his tail. He lowered himself a little, trying to mimic the pose the females took when being mounted. “This is harder than it looks,” the boy grumbled, looking back awkwardly at Simba. “Is this okay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Simba chuckled, stepping up behind Malka. He lifted the cub’s tail, finding it still wet with his saliva. He took a moment to get a good look. Admiring the ridges and curves in Malka’s ass before finally spitting again on the pink hole. This time, though, he slid one paw between Malka’s legs. Grabbing the other boy’s sheath and beginning to paw it back and forth in small motions. Only then did he lean forward and nuzzle his saliva around Malka’s tail hole.

“Oh…! Oh… W-wow, Simba,” Malka gasped. “That’s…” His legs buckled a little, thrusting down into Simba’s paw. “I didn’t think a b-boy could… make me… rrrrrr!” Simba could feel the other cub shaking against his nose, and Malka’s cock was dripping like a running stream against his paw. What had been an awkward, unsure stance became natural, paws spread akimbo, lowering to meet Simba’s tongue as it brushed over Malka’s exposed tail hole.

Simba was surprised to discover he was enjoying himself. Enjoying the sounds Malka made in front of him. Enjoyed the sense of power he had with the other cub’s hard penis squeezed in his paw. The power to…

“Ahhh! Simba! I can’t…” Malka’s head dipped low, eyes squeezed tight as Simba’s paw tightened and sped up.

“Then don’t” Simba mumbled, his tongue pressing tightly to Malka’s rump. Teasing the entrance. His teeth just barely brushing the sensitive fur of Malka’s rump, paw stroking, stroking, stroking….
 
“Eeeeeeeeyaaa!” Malka gasped. His body tightened, legs shaking as his hips started humping out of his control. Jerking back and forth as he sprayed his load into Simba’s paw and onto the dry African soil.

Simba watched, feeling satisfied with every jerk of Malka’s cock against his pawpads. Only once Malka was completely finished did he lean forward and bite gently against Malka’s rump. “Alright, my turn,” he growled.