Shadows in the Gully
Part I
by Mog Moogle

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The mink adjusted the strap of his knapsack while he stood on the rock overhang. Below him stretched the frontier with brooks in the hollows and broad leaf forests on the foothills. He closed his eyes as the breeze rustled exposed fur outside of his hunting frock and under his felt hat. His arm cradled a fishtail musket with a flintlock, the jaws wrapped in a cloth to keep the sharp stone dry. As he was drawing a deep breath through his nostrils, the air was suddenly forced out of him with a sharp clap on his back.
"Ó Riain!" the voice called behind him as he scrambled to keep his footing.
"Jesus, Mary..." The mink turned on the voice. "For the love, Cokker. Ya damn near had me tumblin' in the gully." The mink spoke with an ingrained Irish accent dulled by the colonial frontier.
Behind him was an albino otter, dressed in a cravat and waistcoat clashing sharply with a rough linen overcoat and breeches. He had a surveyors compass over his right shoulder as he leaned forward and looked off the overhang. "Quite a tumble it would have been." His accent was smooth but it betrayed his early life around the English aristocracy. His pink eyes looked back at the mink. "So how are we crossing this...gully, fellow?"
"Down this side and up the other," Ó Riain said as he traced down and then back up with his paw.
"With this on my back?" Cokker hefted the compass off his shoulder and shook his head. "I hired you to scout a trail on this tract that didn't involve climbing up and down mountains."
"Sure," Ó Riain said and laughed. "And as soon as I call the Almighty and have him brought the gully together, we'll be on our way."
"I sure in blazes didn't hire you for your charming wit." Cokker looked around and then across the expanse. "I can set up on the other side, use this rock for my reference point. But we have to get there."
"The descent'll be less steep down the left here." The mink shuffled down a slope on the rock to the loose earth, holding a sappling with his free paw as he stepped off the rock.
"You really expect me to do that with one paw while I carry this thing in the other?"
"Why not?" Ó Riain said as he looked up at the otter. "I'm doin' the same." The mink bounced his cradled hold of his musket.
"You weasels are a lot better at climbing than otters."
"Here now!" Ó Riain's tone was indignant. "I don't go 'round insulting your ma, so don't go 'round insulting me and mine."
Cokker laughed then shook his head. "No offense lad, but you really expect me to lug this compass down and up such steep inclines?"
"Well pass it to me, then." The mink rolled his eyes. "After all, I've only got me musket, powder horn, two water skins, and me knapsack with bedrolls and vittles for two. Can't have ya weighted by more than a little sack with a chain in it, can we?" Ó Riain wrapped a free paw around a sapling to steady himself while he turned away from the otter and started his descent.
"Careful my good fellow," Cokker said as he eased off the rock. "Your charming wit is showing again."
The incline was not as steep as the otter's bellyaching implied, but the mink was more sure of foot. Near the bottom where the slope began to level, the otter lost his footing when a branch he'd grasped for stability gave way. As he started to fall forward, one of his legs slid our from under him and he landed on his rear.
He slid on the seat of his breeches dragging his tail for three yards, quickly catching up to the mink who had turned around just in time for the otter to barrel into him. Ó Riain toppled on top of the otter, causing his musket to pirouette in the air for a few seconds before the lock slammed down on a mossy stone.
They came to rest two yards later, the mink sprawled on the otter. Cokker's left leg tucked up under him at an uncomfortable angle. Through it all, the otter had kept his compass off the ground.
"Blood of the Saints," Ó Riain said, and all he got in response from Cokker was a groan. "Ya've all the grace of an Englishman, sure." The mink saw the otter open his eyes and blink several times. They were muzzle-to-muzzle and he could feel Cokker's broad whiskers brush his own. His pink nose and broad white muzzle touched his for the briefest of moments. His heart started beating faster and he felt his ears heat.
The otter cleared his throat then leaned his head away from the mink. "You mind getting off me, fellow?"
Ó Riain blinked and quickly put his paws on the ground beside Cokker and lifted himself off. "Sorry," he said as he was coming to his feet. "Ya took a hard fall. Y'all right?"
Cokker moved his leg from under him, but winced when he straightened it. He looked up at the mink. "Scrapes and bruises, I think." He extended his paw toward the mink. "Help me up?"
Ó Riain grasped the otter's paw and hefted him. When Cokker was mostly up on the unlevel ground, he gingerly put weight on his left foot. The otter cried out and Ó Riain wrapped his arms around the otter to keep him from collapsing. The mink leaned him against the trunk of a maple. Before he eased back from the otter, he caught himself inhaling the scent of his chest while his muzzle brushed his cravat.
The otter's scent filled his nostrils. When he felt the heat return to his ears, he hastened his release.
"Is it bad, fellow?" the otter asked and it pulled the mink's attention eyes to his. "The ankle," he qualified. "I know what poor Achilles must have felt."
"Can't say for sure," the mink explained as he looked down at the otter's foot. "Ya got no bones sticking out, so it's like as not. I have to feel to be sure." Ó Riain looked back up at the otter.
Cokker drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, then nodded his head. "Do try and be delicate, if you would."
The mink gave him a nod then knelt to his foot. He wrapped his paws around the stocking below his garter and slowly kneaded his leg. His muscles were thick and the mink could feel his course soft fur under the stocking. When he got to the bend of the stocking at the hock of the otter's leg, he heard Cokker gasp. "Sorry," he said as he paused a moment. "Have to keep going."
When he heard a mumbled agreement, he continued as gingerly as he could. The soft squeezes elicited a few more wincing gasps and some flinching, but everything in the otter's ankle felt in place. When he was past the hock, his finger pads brushed past the stocking strap below the bend and were pressing against his fur.
Ó Riain felt his heart racing again. He was relieved that Cokker seemingly stopped hurting as he went down. He continued on to his feet, felt along his outside toes and gave the otter's webbing a quick brush with his thumbs. When he did, the otter jerked his foot. "Ya hurt, there?"
"A wee ticklish, I should say." Cokker exhaled in a shudder. "I do have to ask you be careful there. The sudden movement from your ministration did me no good, I'm afraid."
Ó Riain stood and looked at Cokker. Their eyes locked and his heart pounded in his chest so hard he could hear his own pulse. The otter wasn't overly tall, but he was still a head taller. It wasn't until the otter's expression shifted and he looked away that Ó Riain realized he was staring again. Blazes and damnation, get a hold on it, he told himself. "I, uh, I think ya got a twist. No broken bones."
Cokker cleared his throat and glanced back at the mink. "That's good, at the least."
"Going to retrieve the fowler. We'll settle in near the brook."
"I'm due back in York city before the week's end."
"We're thirty miles from Providence," Ó Riain said as he gestured in a generally southeasterly direction. "Be best if we lose a day than lose several pushing on with a lame foot." Ó Riain noticed the otter frown. "Coin's not going to be as good?"
Cokker stood for a moment before he sighed and shook his head. "No, it's nothing." The otter's tone betrayed his disappointment.
"Aye? Well stand here and I'll help ya down when I get back." Ó Riain walked up the hill the few paces while readjusting his gear that had become disheveled in the fall. His musket was barrel down while the lock rested in a crook in the stone. The mink bent over and picked it up and turned it over in his paws. The stock had no discernible damage, so he unwrapped the cloth around the flint and examined the lock.
The flint itself was jarred out of the jaws. The cock was askew and didn't look as if it would drop the flint directly on primer pan. Ó Riain sighed as he loosened the jaw screw and removed the flint. The rest of the musket didn't appear to have damage, so Ó Riain turned to head back down to the otter. Before he took a step, he heard a branch behind him snap.
Ó Riain looked back and saw a flash of dark jump between trees. It didn't move like any animal he had ever seen, and it was so fast that it looked more like a tattered black sail than anything alive. He stood and watched the tree it disappeared behind, genuine fear pumping through his body the likes of which he hadn't experienced in years. It wasn't until he heard the otter's voice that he finally realized he was transfixed on the tree.
"Fellow? Is all well?" Cokker said with an elevated tone, despite only being about ten feet away.
Ó Riain turned toward him as his fear enhanced pulse started to settle. "Did ya hear that?"
"Hear what? I've not heard anything but the woods around us. Are you all right?" Cokker shifted against the tree. "I hate to bother, but my compass is getting rather heavy with me only being able to stand on one leg and all."
"Right," The mink said as he moved back down the hill. "Sorry. I heard a branch break and would swear I saw what did it."
"Oh?"
The mink shifted on his feet and his tail lashed. "No, it's nothing. Probably been out in the wood too long."
"You should enjoy York city for a day or two when we get to the Brooklyn fairy." Cokker eased his arm over the link's shoulder as Ó Riain supported him.
"Too many people," Ó Riain said as he pressed his body closer and tightened his grip. The warm feeling starting to fill him again. "I don't even like going into small frontier towns to barter, let alone a city proper." The more level ground made their going easier as they approached the edge of the stream. The mink helped Cokker sit on a large fallen tree near a rocky patch where not many plants were growing from the forest floor. "Never been one to take in amenities of a city, neither."
"I should think a proper bed after weeks in the wilderness would be a welcome change."
"Got me a proper bed," Ó Riain explained as he shrugged the knapsack off his shoulders then lifted it to show the otter. He lingered on his eyes again, looking into the pinks and reds so uncommon he'd only ever seen one other like them. He leaned the rucksack against the log, his gaze always returning to the otter. This time, Cokker did't avert his eyes.
"Uh, I..." Cokker swallowed and shook his head. "I never got your Christian name, good fellow."
"Oh, it's Sil," the mink replied and smiled. "Sil Ó Riain." He took the compass from the otter and leaned it against the knapsack with his musket.
"Sil," He let it roll off his tongue. "You can call me Lucas." The otter said and matched the mink's smile.
Sil's heart was still racing until Lucas finally looked away with a small frown. "Ya all right?"
"Oh, just thinking about being behind schedule." His tone was false. "Hard to imagine we got thirty miles in one day. You, uh, you're good at this."
"Just doing me job," Sil said with a boastful manner woven in. "Been out here since I got off the boat."
"Well, being used to surveying the southern colonies, flat tobacco fields are a lot easier than these rugged New England territories, I dare say."
"Aye. Haven't been to Carolina in many a year." Sil finished offloading his gear save for a hatchet tucked in his sash. "I'll get a fire going. We'll stay here and let ya mend for the day. On the morrow, we can see how ya walk."
"It's midday," Lucas said as he looked up at the sun through the veil of the tree canopies. "Will it take a full day?"
"Can't rush mending," Sil said as he headed back to the thicker woods to gather tinder and fuel.

#
The sun was setting behind the hills as Sil stoked the fire. He stirred the coals as he moved a burning log up to reveal white hot surrounded by the fiery oranges. On the end of a long knife, he rested the cock with the jaw screw removed and pushed it into the white coals. With his muzzle close enough to breathe life into the heat but far enough to not burn his whiskers, he blew on the white and the glow flared.
After a few minutes, he pulled the knife out of the fire with the tip orange from the heat, and the smaller cock a brighter shade of orange. He put it down on a flat stone by the fire, letting it slide from the knife. From a leather bundle, he pulled a smooth rounded stone that had a divit worn where his thumb sat. He taped on the bent piece of metal with the stone until the shaft was reasonably flat. Sil took his water skin and quenched the metal. It was discolored and looked worse for wear, but appeared more as it should.
"You're pretty handy, fellow," Lucas said as he watched the mink working.
"Aye, ya have to be." He sat the cock against the lock plate and threaded the tumbler screw in. "Like as not, it'll break instead of bend now. But then, I can replace it when we get to York city."
The otter inclined his head and looked at the smoke curling skyward and into the trees. "It's rather peaceful here," he said and looked back at the mink. "The running brook, the birds, the wind in the trees."
Sil paused as he remembered the branch snapping and the tattered black darting between trees. "Aye, most times. Ya have to be careful. Sure as you think you can take it easy is when something goes sideways."
"Like the surveyor who hired you falling down a gully, eh fellow?" Lucas paused as the mink dry chuckled. "You're from Ireland, are you not?"
The flattened-tipped metal rod in Sil's paw slipped out of the screw notch. He sighed as he shook his head. "Aye, born in Ulster. Don't recollect it; I was maybe five. Ma and Da left after we were put off a farm near Colraine. Was an extension of the troubles old King James started back afore me time."
"Oh, I see." Lucas shifted on the log uncomfortably. "I take it you're no fan of King William, then."
"I don't concern meself with it," Sil replied as he looked up at Lucas. "Ma and Da did, and they died on the crossing for it."
"You're an orphan?"
"Only if ya don't count everything around." Sil looked around. "They sent me to an orphanage off the boat. I absconded as soon as I was able. Wound up with a lot of French trappers. They brought me up and I learned me trade."
"French trappers?"
"Oui," Sil said with a nod. "Parles-tu Français?"
"Uh, afraid not, fellow."
"Aye, well, ya pick up a thing or two when a full two thirds your camp don't speak a word of English." Sil tilted his head at the otter. "Begging pardon, but Cokker isn't one of the noble family names I ever heard, though ya have an aristocratic air."
Lucas' small ears dipped as much as the could and he looked down at the fire. He drew a breath and let it out in a deliberately slow exhale.
"Sorry," Sil said as he picked up a shard of flint and started napping it with an antler tip.
"No," Lucas said and waited until the mink looked back at him before he drew another breath to steady himself. "It's quite all right. You have indulged my every question. It's only fair I return the favor."
Sil saw the look in his eyes, like a distant fond memory, but the forlorn expression on his muzzle told a deeper story. "Ya don't have to."
"Cokker isn't, or rather it wasn't, my family name." Lucas' muzzle curled up as he forced a smile. "Being born without pigment sets you apart. When you're already under scrutiny, the most mild of transgressions will get you disowned."
Sil furrowed his brow as he cocked his head to the other side. "How do ya mean?"
"I was caught with a servant."
"Sounds normal enough."
"Ah, yes. Well, you're familiar with Leviticus?"
Sil nodded, then lifted his eyebrows. "Ah, ya mean like a sodomite?"
Lucas coughed then nodded.
"And that's a problem, I take it?"
"It's..." The otter's glance darted around as if he was trying to figure out the answer. "Of course it is! It's a sin, is it not?"
"Ya don't find much worry about that sort of thing on the frontier, friend. We got too much other to be worrying over than who warms your bedroll." Sil chipped a small piece of the flint with the antler tip before he blew the sharp fragment free of dust and wrapped the thick end in a leather patch. "I have a feeling it's more than a passing fancy."
"I beg your pardon?" Lucas asked indignantly.
Sil tightened the jaw screw down and secured the flint in the cock. "Ya've trouble lookin' me in the eye." The mink sat the musket down and stood up. He walked around the fire and stopped in front of the otter. He refused to look away, even when Lucas squirmed and leaned back. His heart was pounding and the heat in his blood was more intense than the fire at his back. "Ya've tried to look away every time I look you in the eye. And I know why, sure."
"You know?"
"I know ya feel what I feel when I look at you. I didn't know what it was, but now..." Sil leaned close and brushed his small button nose against the otter's broad pink nose.
"Now?"
Sil pressed his muzzle against Lucas' and kissed him roughly. His tongue pushed into the otter's mouth and Lucas returned it in kind. Musk filled his nostrils and coursed through his veins, permeating him to the core. He had never smelled desire so close and personal before. He put his paws on Lucas' chest and slid them under his overcoat. When the otter grunted, Sil opened his eyes and pulled back.
"Sorry," the mink said as he raised a paw and shielded his face while looking away. "Blazes, I don't know what came over me."
"I do," Lucas said as he reached up and grabbed Sil's frock. He pulled the mink back to his muzzle and kissed him just as hard. Pushing his paws up, he forced the frock open and down over Sil's shoulders.
The mink pulled his arms out of his sleeves and frantically loosened his sash. His frock crumpled behind him and he stepped in, straddling the otter. The mustelids shared stubby legs, but the mink was more agile. It took little effort to slide into the otters lap while avoiding his injured ankle. As Lucas wrapped his arms around him, Sil put his paws on the otter's chest and pushed his overcoat open.
Their kissing continued as their paws wandered each other's bodies. They gripped and tugged at the linens covering the soft fur underneath. The concealed arousal beneath their clothes strained against the fabric and pressed against one another.
Sil broke away from the kiss and started to unbutton Lucas' waistcoat. While he worked on the button row, the otter pulled his cravat free and dropped it to the ground. When Sil got the last button free, Lucas moved his arms pack as the mink's paws pushed the fabric of the otter's coats up and they fell behind him.
Their movements were becoming more frantic. Each new motion more frenzied than the last. Lucas picked Sil's hat off the mink's head, and then they both hurried to remove their undershirts. They crumpled on the forest floor in the growing pile of protective fabric.
With their chests exposed, they looked each other up and down. Lucas was pure white, and where his fur brushed against Sil's the chestnut brown mingling with it stood in contrast.
Sil pressed his muzzle against Lucas' neck. His scent was strong and every inhale made the mink's head spin. Planting kisses up his neck to the side of his muzzle, their whiskers brushed together. Lucas' whiskers were firm and bristled against the mink's own. He was about to kiss him again when realization flashed back into his mind and he pulled away.
"Wait," he said, and paused while Lucas caught his breath and slowly opened his eyes. "I never felt this before. It's like I'm possessed. Never have I desired anyone this way."
"Mmn," Lucas murmured in agreement and moved his muzzle toward Sil's again.
"No, I mean, can it really happen like that?"
Lucas blinked a few times and drew his muzzle back. "Well, obviously." The otter squeezed the mink's back, letting his fur tumble between his webbed fingers. "I couldn't stop now if all the hells stood between us."
"And ya don't find that unsettling?"
"Ó Riain, the only thing unsettling me is this chatter when we should be in the throes." The otter bucked his hips upward and ground against the mink for emphasis.
Sil moaned and bared down in Lucas' lap. "Aye, but--" he was cut off as the otter leaned in and bit his shoulder. His teeth didn't break the flesh, but Lucas let out a lustful growl and the mink's whole body shuddered. "By Christ, that's good." Sil clawed the otter's back as he held his body tightly. "Harder."
Lucas growled as he obliged. His sharp teeth sank into the skin below Sil's fur and pinpricks surged tingles of electric pleasure through them both.
"Harder..." Sil's voice was weakening as his eyes rolled back.
The otter bit down and the dampness of the opening wounds mixed with the hot wet breath in Lucas' growls. The grinding against his rear became more rough. The fire crackled near them as their own fire built, quickly working into a raging inferno. 
Sil felt the otter's claws rake down his back and pry around his waist under the fabric of his breeches. He came to his senses enough to bring his own paws down to the button fly of Lucas' breeches and unfasten them. Neither had gotten far before an awkward shuffle began. The otter had released Sil's shoulder, and the mink eased down to the leafy floor. He kicked off his breeches and then gingerly pulled off the breeches and stocking over Lucas' injured foot.
When they were both nude, Sil looked up at the pink flesh standing up from the otter's lap like a ship's mast. Every bit of Lucas' fur was white from tail tip to the top of his head. The pink flesh on his body stood out, and his maleness was no exception. It glistened as clear liquid seemed to push out with every throb. Sil pressed his muzzle against the otter's sheath and inhaled.
The musk that hit him was tenfold stronger than the musk on Lucas' neck. The mink shivered and moaned as his own arousal shot a stream of its own clear liquid. Sil knew he couldn't resist, he had to know what it tasted like. He lifted his head and then swallowed Lucas to his root in one swift motion. The otter gasped above him and paws wrapped around his head and held him firmly. Every beat of the otter's heart, Sil felt against his tongue.
He swallowed around the simultaneously hard and soft flesh. Lucas' scent radiated from his loins and boiled the mink's blood. Heat pumped through his body, and the heat off the otter into his muzzle indicated it was a very mutual feeling. The pungent taste of the pre fluids hit his tongue and he moaned like it was the sweetest nectar he'd ever taste.
Lucas started to buck against the mink's muzzle, but stopped suddenly. "No," he said as he lifted Sil's muzzle off him by his cheeks. The mink whimpered as the tip slid free of his lips, but Lucas continued until he was looking Sil in the eyes. "I'm finishing where it belongs. Get back on top of me."
Sil nodded and stood up, shuffling into a straddle. He lowered himself until he felt the tip brush between his legs, then up the cleft of his backside. When it brushed against his opening, he let out a long moan. "God above." His voice quivered and he gasped. "I've never wanted anything more in all me days."
"You're getting it," Lucas said as he moved his paws to Sil's shoulders and pushed him down. The head of his erection slipped inside the warm confines with ease and the mink cried out. "Does it hurt?" he asked as he resisted every instinct in his body to keep pushing Sil down.
"Like as your teeth did," Sil explained. "Best hurt I've ever had."
"Good." Lucas pushed the mink down, but Sil needed no encouragement. The mink slid all the way down and settled in his lap as he cooed.
"By the Almighty. If heaven is half as good, I'd best get to confession as soon as I can."
Lucas didn't respond except to move his paws to the mink's lithe hips and lift. Sil was eager to assist and lifted off him until he was half way, and wasted no time in lowering back down.
"Fuck," Sil hissed through clenched teeth. He gasped and panted as he wrapped his arms under the otter's. "Fuck, that's amazing. Had no idea--" The mink was silenced when the otter pressed his muzzle against his and pushed his tongue into his mouth. 
Sil didn't need any more encouragement. He lifted to the same height with he was the first time and lowered back down. When he did, Lucas bucked up against his rear. The otter's paws moved from his waist to the cheeks beneath his tail and he spread them apart. Their movements became a chaotic rhythm. As they build toward their crescendo, Sil's cheeks clapped against Lucas' thighs.
They panted, grunted, and moaned in each other's mouths as their tongues danced along with their coupling bodies. Claws dug into flesh, fists balled with fur, and the bouncing mink's rear slurped with the slick otter's pre as he bucked.
Sil felt like there were two sets of paws on him. The one kneading and gripping his rear, while the other lovingly caressed his upper back. It was faint and distant, and it barely registered in his perception. Most of all, he didn't care. His first sexual encounter was full of new feelings, new scents, new need. All that mattered was getting the otter's seed inside his body.
His wait was shot lived as Lucas broke away from the kiss and nipped at his cheek. He snapped his teeth down the mink's neck, never biting hard enough to break skin again, until he got back to the shoulder. Lucas' long fangs sunk in.
Sil cried out as his lover grunted and growled. The otter's paws held him fast tightly against his lap as the pulses in his manhood swelled it against his tailring. He felt the warmth pour into him a torrent of the virulent sin came wave after wave.
For what felt like minutes, the otter held him tight and seemingly the orgasm never abated. When Lucas finally pulled his teeth from the mink's shoulder, he rolled his head back and let out a long and contented moan.
Sil panted atop him, looking at the pink nose, the twitching whiskers, his rising and falling chest, with warmth radiating in his chest the same as it did in his rear. He cooed and leaned forward to nuzzle against Lucas' neck, but the movement rubbed his erect penis against the otter belly fur, and he gripped the otter's back tight as his own orgasm sprayed against the soft fur.
It wasn't near as strong or as drawn out as Lucas' own, but it was far more intense than he had ever experienced from his own handy work. "Jesus, Mary," he moaned as he all but collapsed in the otter's arms. It was then that he felt the warmth in his chest fade. It was slow, like a kettle off the fire cooling in the breeze, but he noticed it fading.
Sil lifted his head and saw Lucas looking as uncomfortable as he felt. The sexual desire for the otter wasn't gone--it felt more intense than ever--but that emotional need for him had bled away in the afterglow. The mink sighed and shook his head. "Sorry."
Lucas eased him up and Sil lifted off the otter's arousal. When it slipped free of its ensconced envelopment, they shared a collective gasp. He held the mink until Sil was standing on the ground. "Something came over me." Lucas shied away from the mink. "Something came over us, I think."
Sil shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. His legs felt a weak, but it wasn't bad enough that he couldn't stand. He attempted to rub the fatigue out of his eyes with the back of his paw. "I'm all aweary." The mink looked down at Lucas. "Is it supposed to wear ya down like so?"
"Was that your first?" Lucas asked as he looked back at the mink. When Sil nodded, he winced. "Ah, I'm sorry, fellow. I didn't mean to..." Lucas shook his head. "No, I don't recall it draining stamina the way we did just now. The whole affair was," Lucas paused and looked away again, "odd."
"It was incredible, but I feel so empty now. It's quite queer."
"Empty in two senses, I imagine."
"Aye." Sil nodded as he looked up at the light beginning to fade beyond the hills. "Same?"
"Quite," Lucas replied.
"Well, nothing for it. Come on, I'll help ya to the stream and we can clean up and get some rest."
Lucas looked up at Sil with a stern expression. "No."
"No?" Sil asked as he locked eyes with the otter, and the dourness made his stomach sink and his heart flutter.
"You'll help me to the stream, clean me up, and any time I want to mount you tonight, I will. My seed stays inside you."
Sil felt the heat return to his cheeks and ears. He swallowed as he felt his arousal slide from his sheath. "Aye."

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