He draws up into view in his mind an incident from months ago, perhaps the catalyst for his own prurient interest in his master. The two of them had been prowling the prairie lands for hours, dispersing spirits and gathering ingredients for what the otter had promised was a very powerful potion. As the sun hung low in the sky, with night on the approach, they had been down by the remnants of a fortress, now abandoned. The otter had given his charge his own bags to handle, feeling that he couldn't be burdened with their weight at the moment.  They had rounded the outside of the fort, heading east, when the skunk noticed the otter's toes curling and his legs crossing. Suddenly, the otter dashed to the wall of the fort and started to unbuckle himself with trembling paws. He fumbled inside his leather pants for a few more tense seconds before exposing his member, already leaking, with urine rolling down his fingers. The otter held his maleness at the wall and let himself un-tense as a spray thicker than the skunk had ever seen (at least from someone the otter's size) burst out, inundating the wall. His master sighed with a well-deserved air as droplets spattered his pants, his toes still curling, in radius of the spray.

----

Crowning over the hill, two figures make their way sure-footed to the clearing. This patch of woods was calm and within short distance to a freshwater lake. A gust, then a series, shook the branches of thick-trunked gnarly trees. Sun poised at a friendly cast, shadows shifting and reassembling constantly on plush grass. The littler one, a pre-adolescent skunk boy, clad only in rough-hewn thong sandals and a pair of gently-bent spectacles, shivers at the wind's touch. His master and protector, an impressively majestic otter, twice his size, sets a paw on his shoulder and then sloughs off his pack to lay out a spread for their midday meal. The quiet forest yields an array of chirps and squeaks.
	"Here, fill these and I'll have the blanket and food put down." Smiling down at the boy, he hands over two clay vessels, one rather ornate, hued reds & oranges trailing down in spirals to a blooming sun in its base, with a generous smile on its face. Wisps of plasma trailed alongside the outside of the rim, painted with care against a base of yellow. The smaller bowl, of a similar mold, was painted in brilliant purples and blues, stars astride its sides, in its basin a kindly moon. The ephebic skunk carried a bowl in each paw as he strode to the lake. His toes wiggled in expectation of their meal, the day's journey thus far having taken a bit of a toll on his feet. He was glad to have the thong keeping the sandals on his toes be made of such soft material. For some reason, the skunk felt an attraction to the face of the moon, identifying in his mind with some gauzy yet comforting feminine presence, despite the lack of gendered identifiers on the face painted there. Dutifully filling both bowls to the brim one at a time, he looks up from the edge of the lake and stares out over the horizon, raising just a bit on tip-toe to peer through the tree-limbs across the lake. 
	As his apprentice was away fetching water, the otter pulled from his sack a tightly-rolled, earthen brown blanket. He gripped an edge and unfurled it all at once with a hearty flap as it spread its length against the field, floating down with ease. The force of the action causes his large, worn witch's hat to take an askew angle on his head, as well as his long brown hair to catch a few strands on his face, which he gladly dispatched with an amused blow. The otter knelt down and crawled to the edges, spreading upturned corners flat, then spun around on all fours to finally get their lunch, reaching in and removing scoopfuls of exotic looking nuts, bright red and darker blue berries, some dried jerky (of different sources) and finally, some massive gourd-shaped fruits he lets rest on the edges of the scattered piles. He takes a pawful of the berries and drops them into his open maw two or three at a time as he sits back up, letting his leather & eelskin-wrapped legs fold underneath him in a loose lotus position. 
	Few characters cut such a figure as the magickal otter. The spring thaw was currently warm enough to forgo his worn cloak, so he dressed lightly in hat, boots, and his black leather bodysuit. His suit was frayed at the extremities where the legs terminated but was covered at the moment by the knee-high eelskin boots. When it was colored, or when he was of the disposition, this outfit was often modified by a cloak, a shawl that doubled as scarf, or his elegant silk cape, which he had sewn with a lunar motif. The otter moved to the corner of the blanket on the same side opposite the food and ate a skim share to pass time while the skunk made his way to their holey blanket, lowering his nude form down carefully next to the otter, not to slop any water as he let their bowls down on the grass beside them.
	A black paw moved to pick up a large fruit, like a smaller squash almost, running his thumb's claw down a seam to split it open. Yellow juices ran onto his fur, dripping a bit on the blanket. The young skunk sat on his haunches while he bit and chewed noisily on its sweet flesh, taking the nuts in-between bites, leading to a series of quiet tuts from his master. 
	"Don't eat so fast, little one. You don't want an upset stomach!", the otter chides, affectionately, as he picks up one of the rough pieces of jerky and takes big chomping bites out of it, chewing thoroughly. Self-conscious, the skunk takes his share of berries and nuts and scoots over to the otter's side, picking his moon bowl up to drink for a few seconds. He eats more conservative than before, trying to savor the tart berries and the delectable nutmeat. Taking a bigger gulp of water, the skunk boy idly clutches at his member for a few seconds before releasing it, unconscious to any sort of embarrassment. He finishes his gourd fruit and pops the last of the berries into his mouth then empties the last of the water. His otter master takes the remaining nuts and funnels them into his maw with a slightly-enclosed paw then packs away the other large fruit and the few tinier jerky pieces for later on their walk. He lifts the larger bowl to his mouth and drinks it all in one fell motion, swallowing it down with enthusiasm as some miniscule rivulets of water make their way down the buckles lining his chest. His lank limbs stretch as he exhales. The brown boots extend in front of him, first left, than right, before he returns to a more proper lotus, holding both palms up-turned. He chirrs his contentment and is answered by the young boy at his side with a big yawn. 
	"Can I nap for a spell?"
	"Certainly. We made fine time today. I have yet to meditate today so we can remain here for a while."
	The skunk smiles and takes his sandals and glasses off, setting them within reach, folding the spectacles carefully. A shorter yawn escapes him once more. He reclines to rest his head on the otter's thigh, shutting his eyes. He listens to the insects' consuming buzz and quickly is lulled to sleep. His master too, shuts his eyes in concentration, feeling his pulse lower slightly as he enters a different mental plane.
	In his dreams, the skunk finds himself beset by the horrendous elements, in a ruined castle with tattered drapes, drenching showers of near-painful rain, and clamorous thunderstorms. The shocks of lightning making his fur stand on end. He chases an unknown form through doorways, up & down stairs, tears glistening in his eyes as he tries to find a way out. He jolts awake and slips down the otter's thigh, blinking and rubbing his eyelids with care, still seized with leftover fear from the nightmare. The sun still hangs high in the sky and he sees his master has left his meditative trance. His terror dissipates but he finds himself filling with another feeling demanding his attention. He squeezes at his penis once more, firmer, then rises to stand up, a tad unsteady on his feet. 
	"Master, I have to pee. I won't be long.", he says, bottom lip bit from not just sheepishness but sheer need, the skunk having taken two bowls of water since dawn. The otter nods at him and returns his gaze out to the sky while the boy slips his sandals on with haste, donning his glasses to find his way better and strides to the treeline, hoping to find someplace near with enough cover to protect him from any outsiders happening upon him. He finds a bare patch of ground in the shadow of a massive tree and lets his legs slide apart a few inches, to give him a sturdier stance. Behind him, his tail raises a bit, reacting to his twinging bladder. The young skunk takes his boyhood in a paw to pull back the sensitive foreskin covering his member's head, grasping it with a soft thumb and forefinger, drawing it back just enough to expose his tender pink tip. The skunk's toes curl and wriggle against the sandals, jutting out just slightly over the base. 
	"Ooohh, mhhhmm...", he hums as he looks down at his own member, a needly stream of clearish urine coming out in a small arc, spattering on the dirt. He spread his toes out and pushes his hips forward and relaxes his muscles, the stream fanning out wider in both directions as he aims his skunkhood up to amuse himself. His mind wanders and he gets self-conscious about his usage of "pee", knowing the otter, when he does announce it (which is rarely, instead he mostly undoes his buckles and lets it out wherever he may be) prefers to say "urinate". In his mind, the skunk feels that "urinate" is too formal for him to use. Though nothing ever has passed, spoken, between the two about it, the young skunk mightily enjoys watching his master relieve himself. He relishes the manner in which he tugs out his weighty-looking otterhood and how he carefully strokes himself while he urinates. His interest is quite similarly piqued by how the head has no foreskin, something he marks down as possibly related to his being otter by birth, or otherwise a part of a ritual, of which, he has no conception...
	His master turns about on his tailbone, wanting to keep his young apprentice within sight and espies the little skunk in the shade, emptying his bladder, able to make out the course of the stream between his spread legs but not able to hear it spattering the ground. Inhaling, he arises and bends over to touch his toes, his taut rear providing a surface for a stray beam of light to glean off of it. The otter heads over to his apprentice at a leisurely gait, coming up right beside him, not saying a word. His attention seemingly elsewhere, he pulls the strap over his groin, unpinning it and slipping it through the buckle so it hangs loosely down. Next, he pulls gingerly on the ties at the crotch of the bodysuit, which let out in drooping strands. He casts a brief glance at the still-peeing skunk boy to his left, flashing a toothy grin that he doesn't expect to be reciprocated. 
	Murmuring to himself, the otter slips his paw lithely inside the front of the suit and, with subtle maneuvers, draws out his half-flaccid member. He lets his right paw slide several times up the length of the shaft, its length comparable at the moment to the distance from the skunk's index finger to his wrist, its width, that of two and a half fingers. The otter bounces it in his paw before he slides his thumb and two fingers in a loose circle to its base, its size thicker than before, but almost imperceptibly. There follows a brief beat, the young skunk's stream audibly wavering, puddling on the ground. The otter exhales before he lets it flow, his urine coming out in a thicker stream than what the young skunk could manage from a tip closer to a ruddy purple than pink. The otter's spray comes to splash at a point feet beyond the skunk's puddle, its sound akin to the rain from the boy's nightmare, a comparison he finds suddenly unkind and unpleasant. 
	He had always found the otter's musk intriguing. The otter's various scents were understated compared to others he knew, creatures included, but held a signature that he was fond and a profound comfort when the two were resting close together. Even the otter's urine had its own potent fragrance, something the skunk couldn't recall thinking about any other sort of urine, certainly. He detected a hint of something flowery in it, whenever he was within close proximity. A long time past, when he was merely a cub, his mother had told him that skunks were naturally drawn to strong smells, which led to some confusion as he grew, shying away from pungent things whenever he could. After meeting his otter master, the skunk started to notice his bond to these stronger smells expanding upon, coming to associate all of these unique scents of the otter with protection. In comparison, the skunk found, his own odors were not nearly at the same level. The sort of scents that would emanate from him when he found himself stimulated to an erection were clean, in fact, rather slight when weighed against the otter's earthen musk. 
	The skunk had only seen him fully erect a few times since they had partnered. The first, he had been suddenly awoken by a loud sound back at the decaying castle the otter called home. He wandered down steps and over felled pillars to spot a silhouette dancing around a bonfire, in the nude, colored mists illuminating the night beside him. The moon had shown down over the otter, revealing him in an ecstatic dance with what the skunk found to be an immensely large penis. His paws worked the rainbowed mists into existence, seeming to emerge from his palms as the otter twirled to his own silent music. Other than that, there was an instance not long ago when the two stopped to bathe in a river, the otter intently washing himself in full view of the skunk, having removed his boots and bodysuit, not an unusual practice. However, he had waded into shallower waters after the two had cleaned, pressing insistently on the base of his otterhood as it swelled to its full length, pulling and stroking, until he had sprayed several thick strands of milky substance onto the water's surface, it getting washed gently downstream. Towards the end of his massaging, the otter invited the young skunk to touch him, though the boy demurely declined the offer. It was that previous instance that prompted the skunk to do some more intense ruminating on his own strange attractions. At least, to him, they seemed strange.
	In the present moment again, the skunk's eyes find themselves trained back on his master, still urinating with aplomb, hefting his girthy member at a slightly higher cant, causing the gold-colored urine to cascade in a less-graceful motion than before, its arc interrupted slightly, sending select drops off to either side of the parabola's highest point, to splash into the soaking dirt and toe-high shrubbery. All this time, the otter had been humming at barely-audible volume. The skunk took these sounds as pleasurable, as he absently stroked his member's tip. His fingers were slightly damp with the remnants of his pee. At his current height, the skunk came up to just below the otter's heart, meaning that the otter's member hung at the same level as the skunk's chest, or thereabouts. The otter lets his tail sway at a gentle pace behind him, making satisfied noises without opening his muzzle, exhaling once more through his nose. He slips a fingertip into the stream for a simple second, causing its trajectory to go astray once more. His pee stream being simple quick spurts now, he helps it along with vigorous shakes until only the dribbles remain, falling from his tip. The otter takes his left paw now to rub the head of his penis with a thumb, dragging his fingers along the underside of the shaft, letting a portion of his tongue poke out as he pleasures himself. After another few seconds, the skunk and otter turn heads towards each other as their gaze meets, the each of them with full paws.
	The young skunk's eyes are transfixed on the otter's girthy member, it seems to swell with each subtle pulse, more and more. He imagines himself with a skunkhood even more impressive, something that would take two paws to heft and would extend to his knees, akin to something he had seen in stables before. The skunk can picture himself positioned in front of an ancient stone wall, penis hefted in both paws, urinating a massive stream against it for minutes, which stretch into hours, giggling with ecstatic laughter.