Archive of Our Own ^beta

Many miles south of a stagnating village perched on the edge of the known world lay the great Grass Seas. A wide rolling steppe of tough grass that stretched to the horizon on all sides, verdant green and full of budding life in spring, growing golden and taller than a human in summer. There were few permanent landmarks; watering holes and the narrow streams that fed them shifted and dried with the drought season, stands of embittered coniferous trees grew where they could find space amidst the rampant grass or crevices in rock faces, their roots growing deep. Relics of times long past still dotted the landscape, collections of crumbling stone buildings abandoned to the elements, their people long gone but lingering like ghosts in the stories told across generations.

The nomadic centaur clans that roamed the Grass Seas were the only ones who knew the ways of the wilderness and thrived in it. Most clans hunted or herded livestock across the plains, chasing the ever-moving rains and trading for what they couldn’t naturally acquire from the vast steppe with trading caravans that trekked through the heartland. Then there were the fringe clans, exiled to the edges of the Grass Seas for their aggressive insistence upon raiding the humanoid settlements that stubbornly encroached on the centaurs’ ancestral homelands.

Those clans gathered into a thunderous roar of hoofbeats to bear down on helpless outposts and farming homesteads in a crashing wave. They stopped only to grab whatever loot they could carry, burn down as many buildings as they could before galloping away into the distance. Always long gone before a counter-attack could be launched. It was a show of hostility and defiance - the two-legs weren’t welcome in the Grass Seas and they never would be, no matter how many outposts were starting to grow clustered like mushrooms as the years passed, or that wealthy caravans that had grown wise to the hit and run tactics. Archers and crossbowmen were worth their weight in gold, so more and more trained marksmen found their way to the outposts and homesteads. It was an ongoing war between the two sides, a fight for survival.

Nothing could ever truly last forever, the old ways the fringe clans followed clawing and screaming as they fought. The raiding clans lived a harsh, violent and often short life, and though they were gradually waning in numbers, it was still an uncomfortable silent truth that those same raids that razed settlements and drove out the two-legs were the last bastions that kept the Grass Seas from being nothing more than farmland fought over by merchants and kingdoms. They were the best form of perimeter guards that the centaur could hope for. And one day the last of those violent, frenzied clans would be gone.

It was a weight that sat uneasy in Serith’s chest as he looked down from the top of a ridge, drawn from his work by the plumes of smoke that rose from what had once been a small farming village. Now it lay in ruin, flames devouring the buildings. He could see small figures running to and fro like frenzied ants, saving what and who they could. His hearts ached at the sight, and he wanted nothing more than to pick his way down the incline to offer help in the form of burn salves, tourniquets, water, something that wasn’t just standing impassively and watching lives crumble to ash.

He couldn’t, though. He knew he couldn’t. Matriarchs' orders. His long tail whisked nervously as he scanned the area around the outpost and turned away from the scene below. He hadn’t seen the attack, only this aftermath. There was no way to tell where the raiding party had come from or gone. If they were still in the area, he didn’t want to stumble blindly into a detachment of riled up centaurs that could sway from an adrenaline frenzy to bloodlust if he misspoke. The last thing his clan needed was to be drawn into a dispute with a more aggressive, fractious clan right as spring arrived.

Serith gave the burning buildings a final pitying stare, and slowly picked his way back over the ridge in search of any plants he’d missed on the climb up before the smoke had drawn his attention. He didn’t need any more, his gathering bags were full of all kinds of plant matter that would last the clan through a half-year of joint stiffness and laminitis, but he’d needed to clear his head. The raised hilly area an hour’s canter from camp was full of distractions and fresh herbs alike.

It was spring, and the air was thick not only with the smell of green, growing things but also the heady smells of rut and oestrus that were beginning to permeate the camp as the season began. Jennies that weren’t spoken for flirted, pranced and flicked their tails, welcoming the newfound attention from stallions as the need to be bred coursed through them. Bachelor stallions grew short-tempered, posturing and showing off to the object of their affections, and more fights broke out as they bickered over shared interests. As the clan’s herbalist, Serith had to treat the fallout of any injuries. It was rare that there were any serious injuries that required magical intervention, but he still found himself tending to the cracked rib of someone too slow to dodge out of the way of a flailing hoof, or bruises and a split lip. A busy week doing his duty as a healer, and then the hormones settled back down and life could return to normal for the next ten months til the foals started to arrive. Well, that was what he’d told himself.

He scowled to himself as he brushed dirt off his piebald coat. Usually, during the rut he would have help managing the hormones that begged him in vain to breed one of the many suitable jennies despite his inclinations - Retlok, his beloved husband. A beautiful dapple grey drafter who’d fought for his hand. Even though there were only a few inches of height difference between them, Serith still felt small next to his bulkier frame.

But Retlok was away from the clan this year, adventuring somewhere north of the Grass Seas. Serith couldn’t lie to himself and pretend that he hadn’t woken up every morning for the last week as the rut approached wondering if today was the day that Retlok came back to his side. So far, no sign of him, and the idea of spending another year's rut alone, unfulfilled and miserable, made him ache. Now it was too late. If Retlok had intended to return to spend the rut with him, he would have been here by now.

It pained an insecure part of Serith’s mind that he was once again waiting for Retlok to tire of the adventuring life and come home to his husband and family. He’d lost count of the nights he’d been kept awake wondering if Retlok was safe and healthy out there. If he still cared about what they’d built together, or if the lure of new places and experiences was too irresistible. But he knew that it was just the whispers of doubt and fear in his uneasy mind. When Retlok and his odd draconic friend had crossed paths with the clan, Serith had talked at length with his beloved about the issue. Retlok had promised he would return one day. He loved him, and their children. He wouldn’t turn his back on them for anything in the world… It was just unfortunate timing that he was once again far from the clan this close to the rut starting.

Serith swallowed down the lump in his throat. The wind had shifted, and he could smell the smoke in the air. It itched at his throat, the cloying smell of burning flesh and destroyed lives. His tail flicked anxiously as he looked around the green mass of grass rolling like waves in the wind. No sound or sight of the raiding party, but Serith didn’t want to linger in the area any longer. There were more than enough healing plants in his bags, he was certain that Aarvek would have collected a similar amount, and it would be a tedious journey back to camp.

As he descended the slope of the ridge, he let the smoke-tinged breeze whip the thoughts from his mind as easily as it tugged at his black and white hair. He squinted across the vibrant green, trying to locate his eldest son. Aarvek was a good apprentice and showed a knack for herbalism that pleased Serith, but he was still young and headstrong. When out on these gathering trips, he revelled in the chance to slip away from Serith’s watchful gaze under the pretence of searching for certain herbs. Serith couldn’t fault the boy for wanting independence; he’d been much the same at Aarvek’s age, but with the chance of a hostile group of centaur in the area Serith wanted to make sure the boy hadn’t gone too far when it was only the two of them out here.

Unable to see any hint of the colt, Serith raised two fingers to his mouth and gave a shrill, trilling whistle that set a hidden flock of scrub birds clattering out of the grass and up into the sky. A few seconds later, four hooves flailed hard enough to disturb a clump of grass, and then Aarvek lurched up into view. Brittle stems of last year’s grass and fine clods of dirt stuck to his bay hide as he whipped around to face Serith, doing his best to not look like he’d just been caught taking a nap.

“Yes, tad ?”

“You have grass in your hair, lad,” Serith reached out to pluck some of the mess out of his son’s unruly black hair, but Aarvek danced away from his outstretched fingers to do it himself.

“There, got it!”

Serith couldn’t help a fond smile. Aarvek wasn’t yet fully grown, his frame was gangly and lean and only just starting to fill out, but he liked to act as if he was full-grown around his younger siblings, shooing them away from his work or bossing them around. Colts .

“I’ve found more than enough mugwort to last us for the rest of the year on that ridge, so we should start heading back to the clan now,” Serith kept his tone light; he didn’t want to worry the lad by telling him anything was out of the ordinary. And it wouldn’t do to keep himself worried either. Best to get back to camp calm, but quick. “Did you find anything while you were so close to the ground there?”

Aarvek’s cheeks flushed with guilt as they turned towards home and set off at a trot. “I, um, found some milkvetch?”

“Oh?” Serith was pleasantly surprised. It was a little early in the year for milkvetch.

“Yeah. Stepped on it. Only the one plant, though.”

“That’s to be expected. So, I suppose you can tell me what milkvetch is good for?”

Aarvek cocked his head in thought. “Uhh… Swelling and wound healing.”

Correct. “The leaves or the flowers?” The whole plant above ground was, in fact, poisonous.

“The…” Aarvek hesitated, wide-eyed as he tried to recall his lessons. “Leaves?”

“No, calon bach , the roots. The leaves are toxic, like the rest of the plant that sits above ground.”

“Oh.”

“Do you remember how to prepare it?”

Aarvek brightened at that; clearly this was something he remembered well. “Yes! The roots can be dried and powdered, good for tea or a tincture.”

Serith nodded his confirmation and approval. The lad was still learning, and he would prove to be a good herbalist in time. Serith wanted to take that growing skill and nurture it like a rare plant, encouraging it to greater and greater heights. Someday, he might turn out to be a better herbalist than his father.

The rest of the journey back to camp was lost in a discussion of herbs. Serith felt a tightness in his chest ease out when they passed by a pair of the clan’s perimeter guards on patrol, knowing there was nowhere safer than the well-trodden campgrounds. They weaved their way between tents and large cooking fires to the family tent. It was a modest one; a tough slanted leather roof and heavy woollen walls designed to hang loose and sway in the breeze to allow air in to alleviate summer heat, pulled down to insulate in the arid winters that swept over the steppe and keep the light in at nights. The tents were rigged up by ropes pulled taut and poles of precious wood, easily tall enough for even the tallest centaur to stand up inside. And from two young lovers to happily married with several children, the tent’s walls had been expanded over time to provide more than enough space for them all.

As they approached the entryway, there was a squeal of delight and two blurs of activity raced out to meet them; Serith knelt to embrace his youngest two, gangly-legged twins. Aarvek, desperate to avoid their clinging hands, shook his younger siblings off with a huff.

“Have you two behaved yourself for Merid?” Serith asked, catching sight of his eldest as she emerged from the tent to wave at them. She was a few years older than Aarvek, and carried a newborn foal of her own in a sling across her front.

“Yes, tad ,” Rhos mumbled against his shoulder, refusing to let go, while Bela nodded as she clambered up onto his back. Serith felt his hearts swell as he indulged them, stretching a free hand out for Bela to take for security as her hooves dug into his spine.

“Good, good. I’ll be back later, I need to help your brother put away all the herbs we gathered today, okay?”

“But tad ,” Bela whined, but Serith gently guided her down off his back.

“We’ll play later, my little mountain goat, I promise,” he said as he disentangled himself from Rhos and got back to his hooves. “You two go back to Meri now, and be good.”

The two foals were shepherded back into their older sister’s watchful care. When Serith turned, he wasn’t surprised to see Aarvek about to slink off in the direction of ‘anywhere that wasn’t here’.

“Aarvek, could you please take these herbs to the workstation and start drying them?” He asked as he undid the belt keeping his gathering bags at his sides and handed them over. “I’ll be along shortly, I just need to speak with Meri about something.”

Aaravek frowned in confusion but was eager to take any chance of freedom and was soon trotting off across camp, not even sparing a look back to see if Serith was indeed going to speak with Merid. Good.

Serith went a different direction, to where the Matriarchs gathered at the centre of camp. They were comprised of a clan’s eldest female members, their decades of lived experiences and collected wisdom ensuring that they alone had the authority to lead the clan, its living memory and guiding hands. Any major decision for a clan’s future came from their council. The number of Matriarchs varied between the clans depending on each clan’s size, but two tended to be the minimum in the smallest. He’d heard tales of larger clans numbering in the thousand with seven Matriarchs! It was a wonder how they managed to get anything done. And with thoughts of vicious raiding groups in his mind, he wondered if the fringe clans held Matriarchs in the same high regard, or if they were similarly warlike and aggressive. He hoped that he would never find out.

As he reached the centre of camp where the grass had been trodden down underneath dozens of hooves, he belatedly realised there was dirt staining his hands and arms up to the elbow. He should have washed it off but his report about the raiding clan couldn’t wait, he had to make do with brushing the worst of it off by hand.

Nodding to the posted guard as he approached a ring of tents, he stepped over the invisible boundary in the short grass and entered the space where the clan’s leaders spent the majority of their time. He could only see two of the Matriarchs standing in plain view as he approached, clearly deep in a conversation that stopped when they noticed him. A movement to one side and a third elder stood from where she’d been reclining in the shade in front of a tent. Serith flicked his tail nervously. Even though he was the one to approach them , he still felt like a young colt about to receive a fierce scolding.

The one who’d stood up walked forwards to greet him, Siân. Though her legs were arthritic she moved silently. The skin of her upper half was weathered to a dark tan that made her wrinkles appear deeper than they truly were, her lower half a deep chestnut brown that had once matched her grey hair. Her eyes were kind as she nodded to him in greeting. The two that had been in conversation moved to flank her - Rhiannon to her left and Lowri to her right. Serith didn’t dare look Lowri in the eyes; she was a heavy drafter, her coat almost wholly silver with age. Little evidence remained of her once dapple grey coat, beyond what she had passed on to Retlok and her other sons. Unlike Siân she held no warmth for his presence, her arms folded across her chest as she waited for him to speak. The fact she disapproved of Serith’s relationship with Retlok was an unfortunately open secret.

In stark contrast, Rhiannon at Siân’s other side was small and dainty, easily half of Lowri’s size. Her milk-white coat and hair stood out against the earthen tones of their surroundings, and though her sight was long gone she held herself with confidence.

“Hello, Serith. How can we help you?” Siân asked.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Ah, no thank you, Rhiannon,” Serith shook his head. Three of the Matriarchs wasn’t the full council, the other two must have been asleep or tending to matters elsewhere in the camp, but it would do. “I can’t stay long, I just came to report something I saw while out gathering herbs out east.”

A nod from Lowri permitted him to continue, her grey eyes dagger-sharp.

“We were an hour’s canter away, I found a ridge overlooking a two-legged village or outpost that had been raided. It was burning, I’m not sure how many survived.”

“Was it raided by other two-legs?” Lowri pressed.

“No, other centaurs. One of the raider herds. There were hoofprints.”

Lowri and Siân exchanged looks of concern while Rhiannon’s lips had pressed together into a thin, grim line.

“Did you see any sign of the raiders?” Siân asked, leaning forwards intently.

“No, only the aftermath. The village burning, people screaming. I didn’t want to linger and risk danger by running into the raiding party, so I left quickly.”

Siân’s expression was troubled, and there was a frisson of unease that ran through the elder females in the way they now held themselves, tails whisking.

“There is not much we can do unless our scouts and hunters get into altercations. We don’t want a fringe clan trying to pick fights with us this close to the rut.”

“They would be fools to,” Lowri snorted, stamping down one heavy hoof.

“We shall inform the scouts to be alert if they venture that way.” Rhiannon smiled up at him. “Thank you for informing us, Serith, you may go.”

“And I’ll stay away from that area.” Serith agreed as he bid them Matriarchs farewell, and set off to the lake at the edge of camp to wash the dirt from his arms. It was out of sight of the tents, obscured below a slight, rocky drop that was easily navigated. At this time of day, bathing had been done and water gathered so the banks would be quiet save for the occasional centaur still drying off or lying in the shallows doing laundry in one of the more accessible, public spots. He smiled greetings at those he passed but refrained from conversations, not wanting to leave Aarvek alone for too long in case he grew bored and unfocused.

He followed the lake’s shore away from the laundry spots, pushing his way through clumps of reeds and gorse bushes to find a quieter area, only to find that someone else had had the same idea.

Standing far out enough into the water that it lapped at his belly stood Naum. It was impossible to mistake him for anyone else in the clan; not with the antlers that crowned his head, or his light and almost colt-like frame that made him seem younger than he truly was. Naum was a fairly recent addition to the clan, a lone scout found last winter as the clan was moving from its winter site southeast where the Grass Seas’ rolling steppe gave way to colder, mountainous taiga. He’d been alone and on the verge of either starvation or hypothermia, separated from his clan by days of fierce blizzards and utterly lost. It had been true luck that his path had crossed with a far-ranging hunting party’s.

Enough time had passed now that the novelty of such an unusual looking clanmate had faded for many. His lower half was not equine, but cervine. As well as his antlers his hooves were split like a deer’s, better made for crossing through snow and over frozen soil than open grassland. And yet he’d settled into the clan well enough, reluctant to be a scout or a hunter in such unfamiliar territory after his ordeal but happy enough to take up carving bone and wood implements, staying close to the campgrounds. The question on many minds was whether he would stay with the clan when the migration routes took them eastwards back towards his home range, or if he would venture out alone into the winter snows to try and find his clan and risked death. Only time would tell. For now at least he was part of the clan.

Serith was about to carry on and not intrude on Naum’s privacy, but the other centaur had turned at the sound of rustling vegetation and hoofbeats on the muddy shore. His brown curls shone wet in the late afternoon sunlight as he nodded a greeting to Serith, wiping excess water from the beard that lined his jaw. The rest of his torso and cervine lower half was similarly wet, pale brown skin and white-brown fur alike glittering with water droplets.

“Ah, Serith.”

“Naum. Hope I’m not intruding?” Serith kept a hoof up, more than ready to be dismissed.

“Not at all. Stay if you wish, I am nearly done.”

With a mental shrug, Serith splashed into the shallows a short distance away from Naum, lying down in the cold water to wash away the day’s grime.

“Busy day?” Naum asked conversationally, shifting around to face him. "I saw you leave this morning."

“Aye, productive too. We found enough poultice supplies to last a while when we went out. Just got back.”

“It seems like the clan might need them. I have seen many bold stags- stallions , sorry-” Naum grinned apologetically. “Walking around proud of their bruises and cuts.”

“And sometimes with a pretty jenny or stallion alongside them because of those injuries. Which I’ll have to treat.” Serith shook his head as he dug grit out from under his nails. “How are you finding the rut, Naum? Do you see anyone you like?” As far as he knew, Naum hadn’t tried to win anyone’s hand or spent the night with anyone.

Naum cleared his throat, looking out over the lake at some birds that floated out on the deeper water. “I… Do,” he confirmed. “But I am not sure if she ,” and here he stressed the word in a way that perked Serith’s ears up in curiosity, “is single. Or if she would even be open to my advances.”

“Well,” Serith clucked his tongue, “The rut is the perfect time to ask and find out. If she ’s single and curious, that is.” He gave Naum a curious look. “What is the rut like back in your home clan? If you have one, that is?”

“Much the same as it is here,” Naum shrugged. “Slightly different ways of settling matters with a rival, but the basics are unchanged.” He blew his cheeks out and began to wade back to the shallows. The dark water sloshed around his long brown legs, spraying and dripping water. “But I’m a stranger to this clan’s ways, I don’t want to make a fool of myself by overstepping some unseen boundary. Perhaps it would be best if I stayed out of your clan’s rutting season.”

Serith finished cleaning himself, so he got to his hooves as Naum walked back onto dry land and followed him. “I see.” He tapped his chin in thought. There was an odd sense of comfort in knowing there would be someone else unable to indulge themselves in the rut this year. Someone else who would be torn apart from the inside with unspent need and longing... “Speaking from experience, ruts spent alone can be tough. When my husband Retlok was gone last year, I was miserable for the whole week.”

Naum knelt down to grab a towel he’d brought with him, left folded neatly on a low-growing bush, and began to dry himself off. He frowned at Serith. “Truly?”

“It was tough to manage it alone. The, ah, urges.” Serith cleared his throat as he felt his cheeks heat up in the beginning of a blush. He’d rarely had a reason to speak to Naum after he'd recovered from his ordeal, and here they were talking about the rut? Ancestors, what a conversation topic to start with.

Naum grimaced at that, and carefully avoided eye contact as he worked the towel through his hair and around his antlers. “So, how will you manage this year if Retlok is still away?”

The bluntness nearly made Serith wince. “I’ll survive, the rut is hardly a life or death condition.”

Naum chuckled at that. “If you say so.”

“I’ve done it before, I can do it again.” Serith flicked his tail and turned to leave. “You, however, should find someone to spend the rut with if you can. It'll be... Easier.”

Naum gave him a sympathetic look. “In that case, I’ll consider it. I wish you luck, Serith.”

“Aye. See you later, Naum.” Serith walked away from the lake, leaving Naum to finish drying himself alone.

Serith let his pestle fall with a frustrated sigh. It was impossible to focus on his work. Even with the heavy, earthen smells of crushed and drying herbs all around his workspace in front of the herbalist tent, it still couldn’t fully block out the flowering scents carried to him on the breezes that snaked through camp over the last two days. The heat-scent of fertile, willing jennies was one that he had little interest in but his body still responded to, and the rut-scent that rolled off posturing stallions. He’d already had to treat a few injuries from rivals having a scuffle over a potential mate, and being so close to a sweating, so very masculine body was testing his self-control to the limit. It wasn’t anything new to him, he wasn’t a naive young colt taking his first steps into adulthood’s flowering passions, but the fact Retlok wasn't around made him keenly aware of, well, everything.

Raised voices carried from somewhere out of sight behind a row of tents, followed by an outraged squeal, and then dull impacts.

“Either another fight, or a particularly happy couple,” he mused to himself, quiet so Aarvek wouldn’t hear from where he was organising the stored herbs in the back of the tent. The boy wasn’t old enough to join in the rut yet, although he knew full well what was going on around him with typical teenage immaturity. Perhaps next year he would be ready to try and woo a jenny, or a stallion? Perhaps Retlok would be back by then from his adventuring life? Perhaps the sun would fall from the sky? Serith squirmed where he lay, legs tucked neatly under him as he worked.

The rut was like an itch on the wrong side of his skin, and it had him in a chokehold. He’d woken up in a panting sweat throughout the night. It had been two days of misery and frustration and bone-deep need . He’d taken to wearing his caparison just in case out of a sense of paternal modesty, even though it was practically expected for a male centaur to drop in response to the rut’s heady influence. Fatherhood had reinforced his need for propriety several times over. No matter how the faux-agony built under his skin and snapped at his thoughts until he couldn’t think of anything else. Serith could only grit his teeth and pick the pestle up in a white-knuckled grip. His hands trembled. He could outlast the rut a little while longer, but he knew he would have to take care of his pent-up arousal soon before it became unbearable.

Yes, that sounded like a good idea. He could slip away from camp one night and pleasure himself as best he could alone. It wouldn’t be the same as spending the rut in Retlok’s embrace, but it would have to do. Oh, if only Retlok were here, they could do what so many other couples young and old were doing, sneaking away for a tryst, perhaps vanishing for the night. Serith flicked his tail to shoo a persistent fly and tried to ignore how the arousal pulsed low and insistent in his belly.

He missed Retlok. He missed the feeling of Retlok’s warm hands cupping his cheeks in a tender moment, their lips pressed together and whispering sweet promises to each other. Racing each other laughing through the vibrant green grasses to a newfound hideaway where they could spend hours at a time sating the mutual hunger for each other’s body that their first rut as a couple and their stallion’s instincts demanded. Their lips meeting warm and familiar as the years eased by, needful and seductive and teasing in a heavy heady rush.

The need that they felt steeped every rut in a haze of desperation, bodies entwining over and over until the sweat ran in rivulets down their skin, warm gasps for air at each other’s shoulders as one bore the weight of the other, fingers clenched tightly together. Serith wound Retlok’s long grey hair round one hand to pull his head back, guiding his more powerful and battle-worn husband, his mate , into a beautifully submissive pose - throat bared, chest heaving, a strained whimper rising from his throat as Serith rocked his hips and plunged his -

No, no no! He had work to do, he wasn’t some randy beast looking for something to mount. He shook his head to clear the lewd memories from his mind, and dropped the pestle again to bury his face in one hand. His dropped, half-hard cock throbbed uncomfortably between the heat of his belly and the cold ground he lay on. Fuck .

He lowered his hand and glared down at the wooden mortar as he gripped the pestle. Taking his frustrations out on the half-mashed herbs gradually took his mind off the need of his body, grinding them down to a wet paste with more force than was strictly necessary.  

He settled back into the familiar rote of scraping out the paste onto a cloth, grabbing a fresh pinch of roots from a pile at his side and dropping them into the mortar to begin again. The renewed smell of the herbs grounded him somewhat. Slowly, painfully slowly, the throb of arousal began to fade. Ancestors, he was horny.

His heavy-handedness with the pestle proved to be his undoing; as he pressed down on a stubborn taproot the strain was too much for the ageing wood. The pestle cracked along the grain and splintered into two.

Serith stared in disbelief at the splintered wood, and his frustration snarled up. Fuck the whole damn thing. The pestle, the rut, Retlok not caring enough to come back to him! Why did he have to suffer it alone? His husband should have known to come back in time for spring!

He still held the broken handle of the pestle in an iron grip, and the petulant desire to throw it as far away from himself as he could flashed through his riled mind. It wouldn’t help anything, but it would help him feel better. He looked up, debating whether to be so childish as the anger flared and burned hot in his chest when he realised someone was standing a polite distance away, hovering a few paces away from the edge of his workspace as if they were afraid to interrupt and expecting to be dismissed.

Startled, he dropped the remains of the pestle and swallowed the unthinking anger.

“Oh, my apologies, Naum! How long have you been there? You should have said something.”

The named man dipped his head in apology as Serith got to his hooves. “I didn’t wish to disturb you. You looked…” His brown eyes darted down to the dropped mortar and the broken pestle. “Busy.”

“It can wait,” Serith insisted, a blush rising to his cheeks. Oh, had Naum seen him about to lose his temper? Oh no. “What can I help you with?” He asked, already looking Naum over for any sign of injury. Had he decided to try and participate in the rut after all?

Naum cleared his throat and shifted his weight from hoof to hoof. “I was wondering if you had any remedies for… Scratching? That’s the right word, yes?”

“Itching remedies? We have salves for fly bites, sweet itch, ringworm, er, I can make something if the itching is for somewhere more intimate … Anything, really.” Serith listed. But Naum’s shoulders drooped.

“No, no, for my antlers.” He reached up and tapped one tine; Serith looked closer at them and was alarmed to see some of the thin velvet fuzz along the tines was beginning to peel off in long, bloody strips, and the antler beneath was likewise bloody or pale like bone. Oh, that looked painful . No wonder Naum looked miserable.

“I'll see what we have.” As he turned away to search Serith was combing through the remedies he knew and what they had stored away for itching and painkillers, but anything itching-based was caused by pests or sickness. Shedding antlers wasn’t something his equine-based clan ever had to deal with.

All Serith and Aarvek could turn up were generic itching remedies. “This is all we have, I’m afraid.”

Naum took the small selection of balms, pastes and tinctures, sniffed each one in turn as if trying to find a specific ingredient, and then returned them with an apologetic head-shake.

“No, these won’t work.”

“Then I’m sorry,” Serith handed the supplies off to Aarvek who busied himself with putting them back, leaving them to talk.

Naum shrugged, a weak smile on his face. “Not your fault. The plants my clan uses must not grow in the steppe.”

“Does it hurt a lot?” Serith studied the strips of bloody skin that hung from the tips of Naum’s antlers. Like damaged skin sloughing off a burn or a blister. To his surprise, Naum shook his head.

“It’s more uncomfortable, like an unending itch.” Even as he spoke, he reached up to scratch at the velvet.

Serith couldn’t help a chuckle at that. Sounded familiar at this time of year. “I know the feeling, with the rut happening all around us.”

Naum grinned back. “Yes, I suppose so.”

Serith couldn’t help himself. “Have you decided to court your mystery admiree?”

Naum tilted his head in confusion. “Admiree?” He rolled the unfamiliar word round his mouth.

“The jenny that you’re interested in?"

Naum gave their surroundings a wistful look. “Not yet. Still finding the courage, and I don't know what she'd think of...” He gestured towards his antlers.

"I'm sure she wouldn't be too put off. Who knows, might even find it attractive?" Serith laughed. "The rut does strange things to people, so many hormones in the air."

Naum looked thoughtful and even glanced around once more as if a jenny would walk straight up to him and drag him off to breed her. It wasn’t entirely outside the realm of possibility when so many females were in heat.

“Perhaps, but I am unsure of how to court her, and I will not be as good a fighter as the stallions in this clan. My clan fights differently.” He tilted his head downwards, showing off his crown of antlers and the tines that no longer looked soft and fuzzy but were becoming sharp as the exposed bone hardened.

“How do you fight over mates in your clan?”

Naum’s brown eyes brightened. “We lock antlers, wrestle each other until one of us gives up. We don’t rear up like the stallions in your clans do and kick at each other.”

“It sounds less dangerous than the way we fight.”

Naum shrugged. “Accidents still happen. Sharp tines can be lethal - some choose to shave them down, otherwise someone could get gored in the face or head.”

Serith winced at the mental image.

“So, I do not think I would be a good fighter, if it came to that.”

“I wasn’t when I was younger.” Serith smiled wryly to himself at the memory of his half-hearted attempts at fighting for a jenny he held no real interest in, before he had realised precisely why the female form held no interest to him, and why he felt jealous of the jennies instead of the stallions.

He'd not fought for a stallion's hand and succeeded, but Retlok had fought for his. He'd bled for the honour of victory, unaware that he'd already won Serith's hand long ago through the countless hushed conversations they'd had at a communal fire, in the coy darting glances they snuck at one another from across the campgrounds as they went about their days; Retlok honing his skills to become a guard under his sire's watchful gaze, and Serith learning herbalism under his granddam.

They’d both been fools at the start, managed to convince themselves that the other wasn’t interested, couldn’t possibly be interested even as they made the first hesitant steps towards courtship as autumn swept across the steppe with winter at its heels, their love butterfly-fragile as Retlok lingered after being treated for the results of another fight with one of his older brothers, or Serith found an excuse to watch the dawn training exercises Iwan put his son and other students through.

Fighting for his hand during the rut had been Retlok's public display to his dam that he would not follow her orders for all of his life. And that, Serith suspected, was one of the reasons why she held such a distaste for him. But at the time he hadn't cared, because as the dust settled on the aftermath Retlok stood trembling but defiantly successful with bruises and a broken nose. Even the taste of blood hadn’t stopped Serith from pressing their lips together as if he would die without confirming his feelings after such a display.

He sighed heavily at the memories of Retlok's grinning lips warm against his. "So I'm glad that Retlok did the fighting instead of me. You tend to be good at fighting when you have three brothers keeping your skills sharp every day."

Naum laughed. "Some of us simply are not fighters. But that doesn't make us passive, either. We prefer courting." His eyes narrowed in thought for a moment. "How are you finding the rut?"

“The nights are the worst. I’m alone with too many thoughts.”

Naum gave him a look of sympathetic agreement. “I know the feeling well, Serith.” The name flowed off his tongue in a way that made Serith’s cheeks flush. Naum hadn’t stepped back that far as they talked, and his eyes were such a deep brown under his curls… No, no! Serith looked away quickly. He couldn’t allow his hormones to get the better of him again! Naum… Naum seemed nice, certainly, but he was still married to Retlok! Damn the fact he was away at the worst time of the year, they were still faithful to each other. It was just his overly-hormonal brain trying to find the fastest route to a quick fuck.

He bit back a frustrated groan. He had to have more self-control! He’d endured the agony of a rut spent alone last year. And now he was to wait once more, aching and miserable and knowing full well his husband wouldn't be coming? He blinked his way back to the present, to Naum standing as if waiting for him to continue. He scrambled to remember what he’d said. Something about thinking too much, Naum's antlers, courting? Wanting to shift the focus back to Naum’s difficulties rather than his own, he spoke up.

"I think you should ask your jenny before a stallion tries to sweep her off her hooves. Your antlers don't look that bad."

Naum hesitated, and peered over Serith's shoulder; Serith looked as well, and saw Aaravek still at the back of the tent, out of hearing range. "And what if she is already spoken for? Married, in fact?”

Serith stared at Naum in disbelief. “Then she likely isn’t an option to begin with?” He answered slowly, unsure if this was his idea of a joke. "Why would you...?"

Naum gave a heavy sigh. “It was an easy enough mistake to make; her husband roams far away from the clan and isn’t here to tend to her needs.”

Realisation trickled down Serith’s spine like ice water. He could count on one hand the centaurs foolish enough to not have returned to the clan to spend the rut with their partner. He even knew them by name, even. Retlok was the only married stallion on that short list. So unless Naum was very confused about who he was talking about… “Oh? Is he now? What a shame for her , then.” Serith watched Naum closely enough to see the smallest amount of tension left his furrowed brow. His shoulders dropped. In relief?

“A true tragedy that she has been left alone with so many thoughts,” Naum rested his weight so casually on three hooves that they could well have been discussing the weather, if not for the low tone he was now using. It made Serith’s hearts thump nervously in his chests, heat rising to his cheeks as he realised that Naum was trying to court him , not some random jenny. His eyes were such a deep, warm brown that he struggled to look away.

“Mm, it must be hard for her. She must be feeling so frustrated.”

“How I wish that I could comfort her-” Naum’s lips curved in a knowing smirk “- during the rut, but I don’t wish to overstep any boundaries,” he continued, his voice soft. “If she wishes to remain faithful to an absent husband then I would be a terrible person to try and seduce her.”

Serith felt like he was falling head-first off a cliff. Ancestors, what was he doing? He was married, he was married , he and Retlok loved each other but it was the rut and Retlok wasn’t here with him. This was a very dangerous game he and Naum were playing. Even though it was the rut and ancient reawakened hormones that demanded centaurs breed or be miserable, Serith was frozen to the spot by the idea that he could spend the rut with Naum. Would he be unfaithful to Retlok, even though Retlok wasn’t here to witness it? This was a dilemma he never thought he’d have to face.

“But you want to?” He asked.

“She is very attractive, and I would enjoy getting to know her during the rut. Ease some of those frustrations, if she'd let me.”

Serith wasn’t sure what to think of the outright flirting. His palms were slick with sweat. His mind reeled as he looked at Naum, lost for words. “I… I’ll…” He stumbled over his words, looked down at his hooves. “I’ll have to think about this, Naum. What you’re suggesting is no light thing for me.”

Naum took a genial step back, nodding in understanding. “I will likely be in my tent, whatever you decide.” With that he turned and trotted away, soon vanishing out of sight between the tents.

Serith stood there for several minutes, head reeling. He lowered himself back to the ground as if he’d aged thirty years. His knuckles clicked as he tightened one hand into a fist, dirt-stained nails digging into his palm. He felt… Flustered around Naum, flustered in a way he hadn’t felt since the start of his and Retlok’s relationship when everything was new and a secret to be uncovered. Was it a good thing that he was feeling these things for a centaur who wasn’t his beloved? Or was it another manipulation of the rutting urges that coursed through his veins and demanded he mount a willing partner and spread his seed?

He was more than frustrated, he knew. He missed Retlok dearly, and the physical need that the rut inspired amplified the loneliness tenfold. Last year’s rut had been difficult to manage alone, he’d felt like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown by the end, doing whatever he could to keep up normalcy during the day for his family, and then sneaking away in the night to try and sate his lusts alone like he was a bachelor colt again, chasing a release that felt shameful, Retlok’s name falling broken from his lips every time. He couldn’t face another rut of that. He needed that solid, comforting presence at his side, kissing his neck, holding his hand, pressing over him or bearing his weight. The memories alone weren’t enough; they were nothing but a cruel reminder of his solitude. He needed a partner or he would go fucking insane.

Was Retlok, wherever he was, feeling the same cruel ache of need and loneliness as he struggled alone with his rut? He was far from the Grass Seas and any centaur clan, out amongst the two-legs who would have no idea what his body was making him feel, no sympathy for it. Serith’s hearts ached. He would be worse off out there than Serith was.

He, at least, was amongst his clan, and had somehow drawn the eye of an, admittedly, rather attractive clanmate who was more than willing to spend the rut with him. He wouldn’t have to go through the rest of the week alone, lying awake with his maddening thoughts and arousal swirling low and base in his stomach. And surely, surely , Retlok would want him to take care of himself? He’d spent the last rut in self-imposed celibacy, but now here was a chance to spend the rut as it was meant to be spent. Even if it wasn’t with his husband. He gave a heavy sigh, breathing in deep, deep, filling his lungs and then exhaling slowly, trying to slow and calm his mind, ease the tension and worry. Retlok wasn’t here, he couldn’t ask his opinion or permission to take up Naum’s offer. All he could do was permit himself, and hope it was something that Retlok would want for him.

By sunset, Serith was ready to see Naum. Merid and Aarvek were left in charge of their younger siblings, with strict instructions to go to Lowri if there was an emergency, as he needed some time to himself. He stood outside of Naum’s tent staring at the closed entrance flap, one hand fidgeting with the strap of his bag. The gentle yellow light of a lantern spilt out through gaps between the walls, and it made the darkening sky overhead seem that much darker. He couldn’t quite will himself to move or at least call out to Naum to see if he was inside, waiting. Oh, Ancestors, he was really going to do this-

The entrance flap pushed open and Naum emerged; fast enough to startle them both. Serith jolted, front hooves leaving the ground for a second while Naum’s eyes widened and he flinched back into the soft glow of the light inside his tent. They spoke at the same time, scrambling over the awkward moment.

“Ah, Serith-”

“Shit, sorry-”

Naum chuckled. “It seems we were both taken by surprise. So, have you given it some thought…?” His head tilted to one side in open curiosity. Steeling himself, Serith nodded. He’d come this far, he’d only doom himself to suffer another miserable rut alone if he backed out now. His mouth felt dry, the reality settling over his shoulders like a cloak.

“Yes. I’d like it if we could get to know each other?”

Naum took a step back and held the entrance flap open, inviting him inside. Serith hesitated. He’d heard plenty of amorous couples who didn’t share his concern for modesty on the quick walk over. Again, wholly expected during the rut, but he still found it mortifying to think someone would overhear them.

“Maybe not here, in the middle of camp? As nice as your tent is, of course.”

Naum took in his embarrassed expression and nodded evenly, without judgement.

“I will pack a bag. It won’t take long,” he stepped away further into the tent. Despite himself, Serith followed a few steps, so the entrance flap fell against his barrel.

He took the chance to actually look around the tent as Naum found a bag and began the hunt for whatever supplies he might need. It was a small one designed for a single occupant, but the closeness of the walls felt comforting rather than stifling. The smell of smoke and sawdust hung warm in the air. In the far corner of the tent away from the clutter of Naum’s bedding and personal effects lay a hide, upon which sat a collection of carved or half-carved wooden and bone goods. Handles to be fitted onto tools, bowls and dishes, even a few statuettes that Serith was too far away to get a good look at. A small rectangle of leather lay beside it, and Naum’s woodworking and carving tools lay precisely organised in neat rows. Sawdust was scattered over the ground around that area; clearly Naum liked to bring some of his work home with him. It all looked - and smelt - so homely and comforting that some of his anxieties eased.

The air in the tent was much warmer than the world outside; he could feel a gentle night breeze ruffle over the black and white hide of his hindquarters that remained out of the tent. The warmth in the air mirrored the warmth of the blood that simmered in his veins, beckoning him to stay in this tiny, personal little bubble.

There was another, earthier, smell that he noticed only when Naum had finished packing and joined him at the entrance, bag on his back and the lantern now in hand. Something masculine, sweat and fur mingling. Naum. Serith woodenly backed out of the tent before his awakening lust could convince him to stay, clinging hard and breathing in every one of those rich, warm smells. He could already feel his body starting to respond; cockhead and the first few slithering inches behind it emerging hopefully. The cold air was bracing against his heated skin, and he turned away to take deep lungfuls of the biting chill, willing his body to behave. There was the gentle shuffle of hooves beside him, and then a politely cleared throat. “Where shall we go?”

“I know a place, walk with me.” They set off at a casual walk through the dozing campsite, and if Naum noticed his difficulty he didn’t comment on it. Serith didn’t dare make eye contact, just in case. By the time they were out of earshot of the last few scattered tents Serith had wrestled back control over his own body, and the walk turned into a brisk trot through the lush new grasses. The green stalks and leaves had turned a deep blue-black in the dark, the muted rush of wind sent the grasses rolling as if they truly were waves on the sea, stretching out into the horizon. Naum’s lantern lit the way well enough, swaying golden light bobbing above the endless ocean. Serith knew the way ahead well enough by moonlight, firelight or no light at all. The clan often chose this spot to set up camp for the rut, a brief pause in their eternal migrations, and so over the years he and Retlok had explored this area thoroughly, picking their way by starlight hand in hand. And where he was leading Naum was nothing short of a pilgrimage to a tucked away paradise. They could lose themselves to the demands of the rut for a while in a place far removed from camp reserved for carnal bliss and intimacy.

It took all he had not to forge on through the dark and win a race that wasn’t truly a race. Not when Naum had no idea where to go. Yet he couldn’t help pushing himself into a canter to feel the wind whip over his skin and tug at his hair and tail until they streamed behind him like twin banners, cooling the excitement and anticipation that burned within. Naum kept pace with him easily, his cloven hooves lending him agility amongst the hidden dangers the grasses hid; uneven ground, rocks, gnarled and exposed root networks. His breath came in sharp controlled bursts over the thudding noise of their hoofbeats. I wonder , he thought, glancing at Naum, if that’s what he’ll sound like under me? He couldn’t wait to find out, now that he’d given himself permission he could revel in it. His legs stretched out as they flew across the grass together, muscles burning with energy. Beside him, Naum let out a gleeful laugh and jumped over an imagined obstacle. Serith watched the way his back arched and his hind legs kicked out through the grass, antlers slicing up towards the night sky. His face was alive with emotion, painted gold by the lantern. The joy was infectious; Serith whooped, spreading his arms out as if he could embrace the night. Air burned his throat as he inhaled and then turned to clouds of steam as he exhaled. He felt so alive .

Running through the steppe without abandon was a new experience for Naum. The air was humid and full of life. The swell of it filled his lungs as he galloped alongside Serith, grass stems and blades whipping against his legs and belly. He stretched his legs out to their full extension, his split hooves easily cushioning each impact as they made contact with the ground underneath, his powerful muscles pushing his body onwards through the encroaching night with a wild glee.

He couldn’t help laughing aloud, raising his forelegs to his chest and springing up into a jump over an imagined obstacle. The lantern bobbed wildly in his hand when he landed, the metal casing rattling. Beside him, Serith yelled out a wordless cry of joy that echoed, a billow of steam that was whipped away behind them. Naum grinned, studying how Serith’s loose black and white hair flowed out behind him as he ran with his arms briefly outstretched, corded muscle on display under the mottled colour of his skin.

Even in profile, when his face was lit by the gentle gold spill of the lantern he looked beautiful . The way the pattern of white and black intermingled in bold patches all over his body was striking; that had been what had first drawn Naum’s attention, but he’d rarely engaged Serith in conversation until the rut’s strengthening hold on his nerves had bolstered him into becoming so… Forward. It was a forwardness based on a physical need, he was ashamed to admit to himself. But it seemed like Serith felt that same need. It was a relief to know that he would not spend the week in self-imposed celibacy out of a need to stay faithful to an absent husband.

Especially if he knew what that suffering was like. When he’d expected Serith to shut down his obvious flirting, he hadn’t. He’d wanted it, even encouraged it. Naum did not want to encourage adultery, and so he had given Serith the choice to approach him. If he had chosen to spend this rut alone once again, Naum wouldn’t have faulted him for it; there were several needing jennies and handsome stallions that had caught his eye since he had first hinted at his attraction to Serith as he came into rut at such an odd time of the year - his antlers had only just started shedding, they'd be useless until autumn, when his clan rutted - but he was very glad that Serith had decided to put his own needs first for a time as heated and passionate as the rut.

As they galloped abreast through the moonlit grasses, Naum wondered just where Serith was spiriting him away to. They were far from camp now, he could only hope the destination was somewhere safe.

After a further half an hour’s travel, the moon hung in the sky like a glowing pearl. The ground around them had grown rockier, the lush grass thinning out as outcrops of rocks and gnarled tree roots dominated the surface layer of soil, forcing them to slow to a careful trot.

Naum held the lantern low to light the ground at their hooves as Serith pointed to what must have been a kind of waymarker; three large boulders that rose from the ground, leaning against each other like a giant fawn’s scattered playthings.

“We’re almost there,” Serith announced as they moved beyond the rock formation, and soon enough they stood at the top of a curving ridge. The land curved down and away from their hooves like the whorl of a snail shell, and Serith led him along the edge of the ridge and down to the hollow that lay within. It gave shelter to a collection of ruined buildings made from the same kind of exposed rock that lay scattered around the area. There were several buildings all reduced to little more than linear piles of cobblestone that had once marked out walls and ceilings.

“Did centaur build this, or two-legs?” He asked as they picked their way alongside the path of a small stream that flowed out along the base of the hollow, following it upriver to what remained of the buildings. Their hooves clicked against stone slabs half-covered in plant life that marked out a path between the buildings.

“I don’t think so, I’ve never heard of centaur building with stone. We rarely stay in place long enough to spend so much time and energy building permanent settlements. More likely to be two-legs... Maybe the minotaur?”

Naum looked at Serith in surprise, not expecting to hear the name of his ancestors’ tormentors. “The minotaur used to live in these lands?”

Serith nodded. “So I was told as a foal, they used to live in the Grass Seas generations ago, until two-legs drove them out of their settlements. They massed into one large herd for protection-”

“-And went southeast to where the taiga mountains meet the Iron Sea.” Naum finished with a grim look, and Serith gave him an equally surprised look. “It seems their people have a history with more centaur kinds than just mine.” He sighed. “Now is not the time for such talk, though.”

He looked around as they walked further into the ruined settlement, banishing thoughts of minotaur from his mind, trying to ignore the persistent itching in his antlers. In the centre of the piles of rubble and half-standing walls sat a shallow pool of murky water that might have once been a tended pond or a natural sump, fed by a thin stream that stretched out of sight to the back of the ruins. The pond’s water looked and smelled too stagnant to be potable or worth the risk of washing in, but the stream seemed clear enough to be a safe alternative if their waterskins ran out.

Serith led him onwards to where the ridge loomed over the last few buildings that time had ravaged. Only the largest one tucked away against the belly of the ridge above had remained standing against the ceaseless roar of time and nature’s reclamations. Naum studied it with a tilted head as they approached. It looked somewhat like a barn, whatever roof it had once had long since rotted away, and sections of the walls had crumbled away to reveal the dark insides. It was well-shielded by the ridge behind it from bad weather, and he had to admit that it looked like a wonderful little hideaway for travellers or young lovers. Where a doorway had once stood was choked with plant life, impossible to get through.

“Here we are,” Serith announced as he reached a hand out to feel the time-worn stone. “My- Or I suppose our - little hideaway.” He pulled his hand away from the stone, and Naum noticed how he cradled his hand to his chest to warm it up faster. With a grin, Naum stepped up beside him and pressed his free hand flat against the stone. It was cold to the touch, but he’d handled far colder things back home.

“This is almost as cold as the snows back home.” He commented. “Have you ever seen snow, Serith?”

He looked back to see the other man smile at him, his pupils wide in the modest golden light from the lantern. “Not as much as you have, I bet. Come on, the entrance is this way.”

Naum grinned back at him, and removed his hand to follow Serith round the building’s left corner. On that side, he discovered, enough of the wall had caved in to allow passage inside; although enough of the stones lay at ground level that they had to pick their hooves up to avoid clipping the wall. Inside, the floor was buried under decades’ worth of grass and other plant life, hiding any other stonework from view. Enough of the other walls remained that the enclosed space was sheltered from the elements. There was plenty of room inside for two - or even more - centaur to stand comfortably without infringing on each other’s personal space. And yet Naum still managed to brush his side along Serith’s flank as he entered after the larger centaur. The contact was warm and inviting, but he slipped away to a more respectable distance. When he looked over he was pleased to see Serith staring at him with unabashed hunger. Their eyes met, and Serith was the first to look away with a blush on his cheeks.

“I’ll get a fire going before we start anything,” he said, walking past Naum to a patch of cleared ground near the far wall, a soot-stained ring of stones evidence of how many times it had been used to house a fire in the past. A fire could give them heat and more light than the lantern could, he reflected as he set it down to help gather tinder and enough dead, dry plant matter to fuel a fire for a few hours. He watched as Serith lay down in front of the pile, produced a flint and small knife from his bag and soon enough there was a small fire burning.

Naum had knelt down to help arrange the fuel, but now the fire was starting to take hold he realised how close he was to Serith, their sides almost touching. He hadn’t planned that; he saw how Serith’s gaze trailed over his form. When he spoke, his mouth was dry.

“What shall we do first?”

“I… Have ideas, but it depends on what you want to do,” Serith was clearly choosing his words carefully so as not to put him off. How polite of him. Naum smiled in the gentle orange glow of the firelight, so close to Serith that he could smell the sharpness of herbs that lingered on his skin from the day’s work.

Naum had a great many ideas for what they could do together, and though he ached for them to come together in a scrabbling of hooves and breathless moans that would ruin the anticipation that had been building up all day. They had to start at the beginning, move slowly, and let the passion between them build gradually and naturally like the fire in front of them. As he waited for a response, Serith licked his lips, and Naum followed the wet pink sliver of his tongue.

“I have ideas as well,” he spoke quietly, leaning forwards to close some of the distance between them. Serith’s eyes grew wide. “But they all start like this.”

Their lips met then, soft and warm. Serith’s lips were wet against his and all too welcome. He was encouraged when Serith leaned forward as well, exploring the warmth that fluttered between them. A shiver of satisfaction ran down his spine, feeling out how their mouths fit best together, the motions shaky with newfound understanding of each other in this intimate little way.

After a while of simply familiarising themselves, Naum felt how Serith’s lips parted in invitation against his own. He pressed his tongue forwards obligingly. With a heavy breath that wasn’t quite a moan Serith responded in kind, the heat of Serith’s tongue explored his mouth until all Naum could taste was him.

He reached a hand up, blindly feeling for the warmth of Serith’s clean-shaven jaw, cupping and cradling his face. He ran his thumb along the curve of Serith’s jawbone, tracing it as their mouths moved together. Serith pressed tighter against him, and Naum felt fingers entangle themselves in his hair, a hand pressing gently against the base of his skull and pulling ever so slightly. The tease of dominance sent a jolt of pleasure down his spine, and he fumbled for Serith’s other hand where it hung loose at his side, not daring to break the kiss to tell Serith where he liked to be touched but showing him. Naum pressed that hand down against the join of his torsos where skin met dense fur. Serith’s fingers immediately skimmed up over the warm planes of his abdomen, and then down to burrow into the thick layers of his fur. Naum grunted and groaned in pleasure. He missed the feeling of a similarly heavy coat against his fingers from his partners back home, the snag of guard hairs on the outer layers but the inner layers were softer than wool. Still he found the rough, thin horse coat that Serith sported interesting enough, with the large splotches of black and white extending up and over the skin of his human half.

Serith tightened his grip ever so slightly, another light pull at his fur that had Naum groaning against their joined lips. By now their upper bodies were pressed together, bare skin against bare skin to feed their building desires for intimacy and closeness, mouths open in their ongoing kiss. Naum shuddered, wanting so much more . He didn’t want to pull away for air, but he needed it.

When they parted, it was only a few inches, Naum’s head held in place by Serith’s hand and vice versa. The air between them was warm with the puffs of their shared breath. Serith was the first one to speak, his eyes wide and lips shining wetly.

“This is… Um… Nice.”

Naum followed the shape of Serith’s moving lips with his eyes, and longed to trace them with his thumb. “Very nice,” he agreed, moving one hand to Serith’s chest to begin an excruciatingly slow journey down over his torso, exploring the swells of muscles he found. He trailed a finger over a nipple, and Serith tilted his head back with a groan. It was music to Naum’s ears, and his cock throbbed urgently. Soon , he promised the rutting urge.

Serith pulled him back into a rougher kiss, and when he felt fingers dance along the sensitive area where fur met skin he gasped against the other man’s mouth. The kiss broke then, and for a second they stared at each other in barely-tempered hunger, breathing hard.

“You know, the good thing about being this far from camp,” Serith murmured as he leaned in to press a line of hot kisses down Naum’s neck, “is that we don’t have to worry about anyone hearing us.” Naum raised a hand to pull Serith’s wonderful mouth closer to him, his eyes fluttering closed. His mind raced now with the urge to mount something and spill his seed in a frantic rush - but he took a breath and urged himself to have patience. He had a plan for Serith, wanted to see him come wholly undone first before one of them claimed the other, however it happened, whenever it happened. Tonight was about losing themselves to the ebb and flow of rut’s passion; they had all night to explore each other’s bodies, and he was oh so curious to find out every last detail of Serith’s.

Naum’s heartbeats made his arousal throb unbearably, and he almost didn’t want to allow Serith to pull away from him, long strands of black and white hair sliding through his loosening grip. He swallowed, mouth dry, as Serith eased away. It took all of his strength not to pull him back in and let him do as he wished. When had this changed to him being the one seduced? Fuck .

He scrabbled for that fading thread of control in the face of unbearable lust, cleared his throat and tried not to look quite so desperate. “Lie-lie down on your back,” he instructed, breathless. His patience was gone now, he craved Serith’s body like nothing else, and he wanted to thoroughly unpick whatever lingering modesty they both held. He wanted to turn Serith into a quivering mess of pleasure, starting now.

“Lie- lie down on your back.”

Serith tilted his head in confusion. “It’ll be harder for us to kiss like that,” He nodded down to their ungainly limbs. Naum grinned at him, his eyes full of boyish mischief.

“I know,” he answered, gleeful in some knowledge that Serith wasn’t privy to, and pushed insistently at his chest.

Confused but obliging, Serith did as asked. He rolled over in the lush grass onto his back and arranged himself to see down the length of his body. He was dropped and half-hard, had been for some time now thanks to their kissing, and now his cock was lewdly exposed to the open air he could see as well as feel it twitch against his belly in anticipation. He blushed, and drew his hind legs slightly towards his belly in a half-hearted attempt to hide himself. He was so exposed like this, Naum was able to see everything from where he sat and why did that make him harder?

He had no idea what Naum was planning next, but his rut-fuelled mind was happy to provide suggestions. He could see the way Naum looked at him - at his cock, and everything else that was on display there. Was that a look of surprise on his face? Awe?

Serith lay there, hands gripping tight at the grass as he waited for Naum to make the next move, forelegs tucked up against his equine chest and hind legs cocked. He flicked his tail against the grass, hyper-aware of the reality of the situation they were in, and he wondered if Naum was feeling the same way. His eyes hadn’t moved from Serith’s belly; his cock continued to harden as if it had a life of its own.

“Are you rethinking your agreement?” He asked, letting the braggart rutting stallion in him preen and show off, rather than admit to his uncertainty.

Naum shook his head, finally looked up at his face. “No, only thinking. Can I touch you?”

Just the question made Serith tighten his grip on the grass stems, not out of nerves or uncertainty but to keep a grip on his self-control. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”

Naum moved forwards, and Serith studied his decidedly non-equine lower half. They would likely need to study each other, figure out what they were dealing with. His imagination was running wild with possibilities, so when Naum’s fingers made contact with the lower half of his shaft a jet of watery precum instantly soaked Serith’s belly, one hind leg twitching out on reflex and narrowly missing Naum’s left flank.

Serith’s low grunt of want nearly drowned out Naum’s startled “Oh!”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s, uh-” Serith fumbled.

“Been a while?” Naum asked as he resettled himself at an angle beside him, in front of his hind legs and out of kicking range. From the way he lowered his head down it would give Serith a good view of what was happening. He stared down as Naum’s hand returned - no, hand s , he was using both now to better encompass his girth - and began to stroke up and down his length.

Serith tipped his head back to stare blankly up at the stars, pleasure wiping all thoughts from his mind. It had been quite a while since he’d been touched like this, at least two years. Retlok, bless his hearts, always did his best but sometimes their respective bulks got in the way of anything more creative than a simple mounting. And this… Being touched by a stranger’s hands hadn't happened since his bachelor years as he fumbled through relationships, or his and Retlok’s first few times when they were still learning each other’s bodies.

It was a wonderful sensation, Naum’s work-roughened hands running up and down his length. They lingered around his medial ring, exploring the ridge of flesh, and Serith couldn’t hold back a low moan. He watched as Naum’s fingers traced the heavy lines of veins that crisscrossed the surface of his cock up to the unflared and now leaking head. They explored the slight bell shape and the ruffled edge, then the dip in the centre that led to his piss slit. Serith bit his lip sharply at the contact, and after several seconds of Naum’s thumbs dragging out from the centre and around in a steady circle to repeat the routine Serith was a panting mess. An inquisitive touch to his slit made his whole body jolt at the touch to somewhere that sensitive with no warning, a choked “Oh ffuck -” straining through his lips.

“Enjoying it?”

“Hmm,” Serith whined. One of Naum’s hands moved to pat him on the side reassuringly, then his eyes and hands went back to exploring. His touches gradually grew firmer as he grew more comfortable handling Serith’s white-pink cock, which spilled lazily over his belly. Serith couldn’t bring himself to care about the mess - he’d brought towels and there was water outside - when all he could process was the fact he was finally getting off properly after so long spent without Retlok. He breathed hard through his nose as Naum stroked up and down his cock. The firmness of his grip was nice at first, a bit of pressure that agreed with his instincts and had him tearing a fistful of grass up, but when it began to border on squeezing he winced and had to put a halt to it.

“Not enjoying that as much, Naum. Ease up a little?” His tail swished, showing the discomfort he tried to keep from his voice.

Naum looked sheepish, immediately relaxing his grip. “Sorry, sorry. We stags enjoy a tight grip.”

Serith huffed at the idea. It was alright for some, but his balls shrunk back at the thought. “It’s alright, it was just uncomfortable, that's all.”

“Sorry,” Naum apologised again, but he got back to work. He gave Serith’s cock a few more long, slow strokes from root to head, easing them both back into the mood. It was all Serith could do to lie there and gasp his encouragement, watching everything Naum did. His cock ached for more, precum drooling over his belly into a slick puddle. “Ancestors, Naum, keep going.”

Naum, ever the gentleman, indeed kept going, learning what touches Serith liked the best, the rhythms and patterns of his hands that had the large equine cock twitching and leaking more fluid that he eventually gathered in his palms and turn the rough, slightly dry friction into a damp, sticky glide that made Serith’s hind legs shiver in need.

When Naum tightened his grip on the base of Serith’s cock and hefted it up, Serith flushed at the sight of his own cock held up glistening and firm in the firelight. Even though it was wholly natural, something about the way the size of it was compared against Naum’s hands made it look obscene. He licked his lips and looked from it to Naum and back, chest heaving and the blood roaring hot in his veins. Naum leaned further over his barrel, as if to resume stroking, but instead his mouth took over the work.

This was something wholly alien to Serith. He stared down in amazement as that tongue that had proven so bold in his mouth proved even bolder against the slick flesh of his cockhead. The urge to kick out in pleasure was strong, but he held himself still so the lurching movement wouldn’t upset Naum. Arousal pulsed hard in his belly when Naum’s lips pressed against his shaft, followed by the hot, wet expanse of his tongue. The groan of pleasure he gave was muffled by the grass-stained hand he placed over his mouth, cock throbbing eagerly at this new sensation.

Teasing, Naum lifted his head away to contemplate the wet stripe he’d left on the underside of his cock, and one hand moved back into the fray. Not where Serith expected, back up his cock, but reaching down to where his balls lay, so far neglected. He grunted in appreciation as gentle fingers brushed over his sack, sparking nerves in the skin that rarely felt this kind of touch.

“Fuck, Naum.”

He caught the smile on Naum’s profile, even as that hand cupped round one of his balls - not pressing it, but simply feeling the heft to it and teasing him further. Serith huffed and wriggled his hips insistently under Naum’s weight, wondering just how it would feel later when his hips were hunched so tightly against Naum’s that it would be hard to tell where one body ended and the other began. He looked forward to finding out.

Naum’s other hand idly worked over the rough, taut skin of his everted sheath, his mouth returning to working his cock over. He could feel each cool puff of air on his cock as Naum exhaled, head bobbing down to the medial ring, tongue gliding down until it was wet with saliva, and then moving back up. Naum’s mouth reached his cockhead, and the way his tongue poked out to trace every ridge and curve of flesh made Serith shiver. He could feel the precum oozing from his slit now, over the ridge and down the solid length of him. Naum’s tongue eventually found one such clear rivulet.

Serith whimpered into his palm as the pink tongue flicked up, clearing up the mess leisurely. When he tracked the rivulet back to its source, Naum seemed to hesitate a moment before his tongue repeated his finger’s earlier action and carefully slid over the sensitive opening. Serith cried out into the night air, one hind leg kicking out. The feeling was so intense, so very close to the edge of climax. His flanks quivered with the instinctive need to buck his hips, but lying on his back with Naum effectively pinning him made it impossible to do anything but writhe in the grass. He was taken beyond words now, grunting and begging for more.

“Alright?” Naum asked.

Serith gave a giddy, breathless laugh. “Don’t you dare stop.”

Naum grinned. His lips parted as he slicked the length of Serith’s shaft with a liberal amount of saliva. Once that was done, both hands began to work up and down the pendulous length while his mouth returned to his cockhead. Serith was a groaning mess, and he felt the slight scrape of teeth as Naum tried to fit the half-flared mass of flesh past his lips. It was an electric sensation that sparked up and down his spine, too much, so good . Naum was good at this. Very good indeed. His eyes fluttered closed, Naum’s hands and mouth so warm and slick on his cock that he could almost fool his brain into thinking he was fucking a wet hole if only he could move his hips. But he couldn’t; he was lying helpless under Naum’s experienced touches as he was brought closer and closer to his climax. He felt the firm press of Naum’s lips against his cockhead, tongue licking up the precum as it oozed out in thick drops, both hands pulling up on his shaft to coax more out. The sensations made his flanks start to tremble, body aching for a way to move into the touches for that last bit of friction he needed. Ancestors, he needed to come. He lost himself to the sensations, breathing so very loud in his own ears, all the while Naum tormented him. Just as he was approaching that peak a second time, every little touch so close to overloading him as he whimpered and begged for it, Naum eased off. The touches stopped just long enough for the urgent throb of his need to fade, head spinning, chest damp with sweat. Then it began again, Naum stretching out the touches and spinning out Serith’s pleasure. A choked noise left his lips at the denials every time, cursing at Naum in the same breath as begging him to continue. Awash in the sensations, Serith lost count of how many times he was balanced on the edge only a touch or a breath away from climaxing. All he knew was that he was moaning Naum’s name and begging for more of the wet heat around his cock when he was finally allowed to come.

His head rolled back, eyes squeezing shut as spurt after heavy spurt of come rained down on his groin and belly, hindlegs shaking. Gasping for breath in the immediate aftermath, he was too drained to do anything beyond lie there in the grass and stare up at the stars. When Naum let go of his softening cock and stopped leaning against his barrel, it roused him enough to push himself up and check on his partner. His hearts immediately dropped when he got a look at Naum’s face. It was streaked with cum, a mess that Serith would have found irresistibly attractive if it had been with Retlok, who'd seen and felt him climax countless times over the years. With Naum, who'd never seen him climax before, it was mortifying . It dripped down Naum’s brow, his cheek, his beard… Oh no, was that some in his hair ?

“Oh, Ancestors, I’m so sorry Naum!” Serith forced his way out of the boneless afterglow and staggered to his hooves, immediately going for his bag and one of the towels he’d packed, a steady litany of “Sorrysorrysorry” accompanying his actions until the towel was in Naum’s hands. This close up, there were definitely a few drops in his hair, and a few drops freshly marking his chest where they’d been too heavy to stay in his beard. Serith hid his face in one hand, cheeks burning and his hooves mincing anxiously. Naum hadn’t said anything. Was he mad? Why hadn’t he said anything?

When he dared to look up again, Naum was wiping down his chest, his face clean.

“I’m so sorry.” Serith mumbled through his hand. “I should have warned you. We centaurs can be rather… Generous.”

Naum laughed. “It’s alright. A little mess never hurt anyone. Unless it gets in the eye.” He began to fold up the cloth, but Serith cleared his throat.

“You, er, missed a spot.” He pointed to Naum’s curls.

“Wha…? Oh.” Naum reached up and gingerly wiped out the last of the remaining mess.

“I’m so sorry ,” Serith repeated as they settled down by the fire, mortified. Naum turned to set the towel aside, and it was only luck that Serith caught that Naum actually licked his lips. His hearts fluttered. Was Naum really-? If he hadn’t just come, the sight would have instantly made him hard again. As it stood, his spent, still dropped cock gave a valiant twitch against the ground. He looked down at the fire quickly, before Naum could realise he’d been watched, mind reeling at the subtle hint of debauchery.

“You know,” Naum began slowly. “Both stags and does in my clan have experienced that before. It happens.” He shrugged, patting Serith on the shoulder in consolation. “We have to be creative in sex.” He tapped his shedding antlers, and Serith chuckled at the thought.

“I imagine those get in the way a lot?”

“A lot,” Naum grinned, a flash of teeth in the firelight as he tucked his front hooves under his barrel as he got comfortable. “One time I had mounted a friend, we…” He made a lewd gesture. “And when I leaned forwards for a kiss our antlers became locked together. That was uncomfortable.”

“Must’ve been a mood killer.” Serith studied the curved antlers, and as viscerally impressive as they looked while shedding he couldn’t imagine how ungainly they might be, getting tangled in branches or caught in an entryway.

“Mmm. Before we could untangle, his mother walked in and saw us.”

Serith barely stifled a snort of schadenfreude.

“Oh no. Did she know that you two were close?”

“Not until she walked in. She didn’t like me much.”

“Was that before or after she caught you?”

“Before.” Naum grinned.

Serith grimaced in sympathy. “Reminds me of Retlok’s dam. She’s never been that fond of me.” Probably because she thinks her son could have done better . No, those were thoughts for another time.

Naum cocked his head to one side. “Did she ever walk in and see you two?”

"No, thankfully, but it’s a regular nightmare of mine. Her, or one of the children,” Serith shook his head, and gestured to the ruin around them. “That’s why I found this spot, for some privacy.”

“Privacy is good,” Naum agreed. “And sex can be uncomfortable, fun, messy…” He gave him a pointed look.

“I know, I know. But it’s not exactly a good first impression, coming on your face with no warning.”

Naum shrugged. “There could be worse first impressions. Neither of us are upset or in pain. Now I know what to expect. Next time, you warn me.” He grinned again. Serith felt a blush rise to his cheeks. Did that mean that he wanted it to happen again? Naum folded his arms over his chest, looking Serith up and down with a blatant hunger. “Now what?”

Serith grinned, and couldn’t help preen a little under Naum’s gaze. As much as he adored the familiarity that came from a long, devoted relationship, he’d forgotten what it was like to test the waters in a new relationship. Especially one fuelled by the raw, physical need of the rut. “I’d like to mount you and thoroughly breed you like a jenny in heat, so I can hear the noises you make around my cock as I fill you with my seed.”

Naum gave a low grunt, a slow and lascivious smile appearing on his face as he leaned forwards. “Do you, now?” He asked, their lips so close together that Serith could feel the brush of movement and air as he spoke.

They kissed eagerly, hands settling on preferred positions; Serith gripped Naum around the waist, while Naum’s fingers tangled in his hair. Open mouthed and hot with rushed breathing, Serith drank in Naum’s presence and his body ached for more. Would he be able to reduce Naum to inarticulate begging to be fucked and rutted until he couldn’t stand, the way he adored with Retlok? He smiled into the kiss, letting his eyes fall closed. The world narrowed down to the taste of Naum in his lips and the heady smell of woodsmoke and sawdust. It fuelled the insistent base instinct until he realised he was holding Naum tightly, kissing with a desperate hunger thanks to the dull pulse of need in his belly that already had his cock half-hard and throbbing. He didn’t want to pull away yet - with Retlok he didn’t have to - but he needed to make sure.

Naum’s eyes were dark brown wells. He licked his lips again, slow and deliberate. Serith flexed his grip, squeezing ever so slightly through the dense, warm fur.

“Up.” He spoke, and they rose to standing within seconds of each other. Serith couldn’t hide a groan of want as his swelling cock slapped against his belly with a lewd, wet sound. He took a few steps back towards his bag, allowing even that short distance to clear the lust from his mind. This was his first time mounting Naum. With those soft curls, thin frame and long, bony legs Naum looked so much frailer than a normal centaur. They would have to be careful - at least at first. Rein in the rampant passions to make sure Naum could bear his weight through the mounting. Naum would surely tell him if there was a problem.

Serith knelt to retrieve a bottle of oil, well aware of how ridiculous he looked, forelegs folded and arse waving in the air. Behind him, he heard a chuckle, and when he looked over his shoulder Naum gave him a lazy grin and didn’t bother to hide exactly where he was looking. Serith swished his tail side to side, putting on a show. He was well aware that in doing so he was mimicking the way a mare would fan out her heat-scent, but he wasn’t sure if Naum noticed the connection.  “If you’re good I’ll let you touch them again.” He promised.

“I will plan to do much more than touch, dear Serith.”

Serith let his lust-drunk mind run wild with that as he found the oil and straightened up. When he reached Naum there was one final, hot kiss.

“If it gets too much, tell me to stop and I will.”

Naum’s only reply was to drag him back in for more, moaning shamelessly into the kiss and pressing needily against him. It thrilled Serith to feel the warmth sag against him, weak with need for him, and the polite, subtle edge of courtship was lost.

He pulled away from Naum and circled round his side, pressing in close so their lower torsos brushed against each other. Naum played the part well, shifting his weight from hoof to hoof with his adorably short tuft of a tail lifted for Serith’s inspection. Serith was so hasty to get his fingers oiled that in his eagerness he tipped the bottle down further than normal and ended up with a puddle of oil gathered on his palm, the excess dripping between his fingers and running down his wrist. Damn . Then, oh well, more is better .

He dropped the oil bottle down into a patch of grass away from any risk of it getting trampled underhoof. His fingers found the opening under Naum’s tail, rubbing lightly until it glistened with excess oil. A shiver ran up Naum’s spine, coupled with a groan. When the first finger sank into his clutching depths, Serith felt the way the muscles within fluttered and contracted around him, demanding more.

“So tight, so beautiful,” he spoke, his voice heavy with arousal. Naum began to rock his hips back against Serith’s finger, trying to draw it deeper. Serith cast a critical eye over his body. While there was less than a foot of height difference between them, Naum’s body was slimmer than an equine centaur's. Tightness was wonderful round his cock, but he prayed that Naum’s body wouldn’t be too small to take him. His blood was up, and he ached for something to dominate and mount. He knew it would happen in time, but patience was sorely required for now. Naum needed to be prepared first.

When he added a second finger and scissor them, Naum was all too eager to voice his approval at being stretched in breathy gasps and grunts. A third finger, slow and careful but necessary. Naum had to be prepared for something substantial. A fourth finger, just to be safe, less stretching and more thrusting that had Naum bracing his hooves and pleading for more.

“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” He asked as he withdrew his hand. Naum’s entrance looked stretched enough, a flash of vulnerable pink amongst white and brown fur. He nodded, his half-shed antlers bobbing. Serith wiped his oil-slick hand off on his flank, marking him.

Naum breathed heavily as he looked back over one shoulder. Their gazes met. “Please, Serith, let me show you how ready I am for you.”

Serith expected Naum to flag his tail higher, paw the ground or do something he was used to seeing from a stallion during the rut. But to his surprise Naum readjusted the position of his hind legs, spreading them minutely. His hips curled inwards ever so slightly and… Nothing happened.

Serith looked at him in confusion, but the brief sound of pattering liquid drew his attention further downwards. He couldn’t see it from this angle, but the sound was unmistakable. Naum had just relieved himself. Not out of desperation, but exactly the way a jenny in heat signalled that she was ready right then to be bred. Naum obviously wasn’t a jenny, but amongst stallions interested in other stallions, when someone did this little play, the invitation was just as explicitly clear. Come get me. Breed me. Now.

“Oh, fuck ,” Serith groaned, acutely aware of how his cock was very hard and very impatient to be inserted somewhere. “If you’re this ready to be bred , Naum, then I’ll be happy to oblige.” He punctuated it with the wet sound of bouncing his cock against his belly again, biting his lip as he felt the hot length sway under its own weight, liberally dripping precum onto the grass.

He stepped close, his lower chest bumping against Naum’s hindquarters as he shuffled his hooves into position. Excitement thrummed in his veins as he gave a testing rear, careful not to clip Naum with a hoof, and when he was certain of his balance he mounted. Weight draped carefully over Naum’s back, ready to slip off if it was too much. Naum grunted and his legs shook under the added weight to his back, but once he’d braced himself he nodded for Serith to continue.

Satisfied, Serith clamped his forelegs round Naum’s middle to hold him still as his hind legs danced, edging himself forwards until his body covered Naum’s in a way that felt right . A way that he hadn’t felt for over two damn years. He reached out, mindful of Naum’s curved and sensitive antlers, and ensnared his hand in those beautiful brown curls as his powerful forelegs bodily pulled Naum’s hindquarters into position under him.

“You’d better be ready for me,” Serith breathed. “Because I won’t go easy on you now.” Naum gave the most beautifully submissive whimper, leaning his head back into Serith’s grip. Serith had already begun to make a few blind test thrusts, cock rubbing against warm, dense fur. It felt good against his sensitive flesh, enough to make him groan and briefly consider marking Naum’s body from the outside. But no, not what either of them needed right now. He arched his hips back and tried again. This time his aim was better, cockhead bumping against Naum’s opening and seeking entrance, but slid away at the last moment to both of their frustration.

Naum grunted under him, jostled by each push against his hips. He readjusted his footing and arched his hips up, helping how he could. The angle was better that time, Serith felt the edge of his cockhead catch against the tantalising warm, slick ring of muscle. Another twitch of his hips, and the ridged, blunt head pressed through Naum’s opening and sank in, finally joining them together.

Naum gasped sharply at the intrusion. Within a few inches Serith’s cock stretched out more of his passage that his fingers hadn’t been able to reach. For Serith, the heat and tightness was bliss that encouraged him to push deeper. He held off the urge, hips trembling, and pressed his lips to Naum’s neck, a kiss that turned to a sucking love bite.

“Alright?”

“Yessss.”

Satisfied, he pressed his hips forward. He could feel inch after inch of his cock slowly push into Naum, a gentle start to stretch him out fully before the fun could truly begin - and to savour the feeling of hot and tight enfold his aching member. He gradually pushed his hips closer until they pressed flush against Naum’s as he followed the overwhelming instinct to push every last inch of himself into a wet, willing tunnel.

“Mmn, you feel so wonderful around me. How do I feel inside you?”

“Ahh-ha-” Naum stopped, grunting his pleasure as some part of Serith’s cock rubbed over a certain point that made him see stars.

Serith tightened his grip on Naum’s hair. “How do I feel to you, Naum?”

Naum’s response was shaky, his breathing rapid. “Ss-so big. Hot . Serith, please- Chcem ťa . Start moving.”

Loath to disappoint, Serith began to rock his hips. Shallow thrusts, but he was buried so deep in Naum that it didn’t matter how much he moved. Naum still groaned under him, head falling back to rest against Serith’s chest and his body trembling. Serith set a gentle starting pace so they both could catch their breath. The cold night air filled his lungs, and he let every slow, deep breath dictate the length of his thrusts. A steady pull out, until everything but his cockhead had left the warm confines of Naum’s body, and then an equally steady push back in.

Naum whined, and Serith felt a hand cup his chin and pull his face down, bodies bending and twisting together with typical centaur flexibility to hold each other closer. Their lips met in a harsh kiss, a clacking of teeth and tongues as they soaked in each other’s closeness, the intimacy of the moment.

Serith’s hand fell away from Naum’s hair, fingers finding their way to the lean planes of his bare chest. He traced over Naum’s sternum, following the pathways of tensed muscles under skin as he worked his hindquarters, easing Naum’s body further open. Outside of the rut, he knew he could be a gentle partner, but the urge to dominate and breed and prove his worth as a fertile, virile stallion thundered through his veins. There would be little tenderness here, not while he had a willing mate under him that he could fill and breed for as long as they both could bear. He wanted to claim Naum over and over again. The gentleness and soft words could wait til after.

When Naum’s heavy breathing rose to whimpers and higher-pitched moans of pleasure, Serith knew it was time. He danced back on his hooves to put just enough space between them to withdraw his cock almost completely. He pinned his forelegs hard around Naum’s barrel, holding him in place. He pulled out of the kiss to watch the expression on Naum’s face as he allowed the rut to finally win over his self-restraint. Watch how Naum’s eyes darkened in pure desire and flutter closed as a cry tore itself from his lungs. It was intoxicating.

Naum thought he was prepared for Serith’s first full-blooded thrust, but he was mistaken. He could feel every powerful muscle in the other man’s haunches tense and power forwards in the first of a series of bone-shaking thrusts. He gasped for breath, a broken cry forcing its way out of his throat as their hips slammed hard together, hard enough to bruise. It took him a long moment to adjust to the sensation of being spread so wide; until now he'd only known the thin, tapered lengths from his clan and kin. Those had stretched him nicely, not tried his limits like this. It felt so much bigger than it had looked in his hands, which was an impressive feat. He felt Serith's weight ease back, and that battering ram of a cock begin to pull back. The length thinned the further from the base it got, aside from a ridge of flesh halfway down that left him gasping as it pulled free. He whined and kept his eyes tightly shut til he saw stars, the cock inside him not stopping until he felt the catch of the cockhead against the inside of his rim. He gasped and instinctively tightened, anything to stop Serith from pulling out completely. His body ached from the sudden emptiness inside, his walls clenching down around the memory. He rocked his hips back with a low groan of want, shuddering at the feeling of warm, slick precum leaking to coat his passage. He cried out again as Serith’s massive equine cock pressed into him and stretched his depths further than they’d been stretched before, deeper than he’d ever imagined he could have taken another.

The rut burned under his skin, an unending itch that rivalled the itching of his antlers. Each heavy breath he took filled his lungs with the mingled smells of their sweat and arousal as he was claimed. Serith was heavy on his back, his hooves digging in tight around his flanks to keep him exactly where he was needed, dominated and fucked so thoroughly. His legs trembled from the strain of bearing Serith’s weight, but he was determined to remain standing. Pleasure sparked up his spine, shuddering as he felt one of Serith’s hands run up over his shoulder and grip it for stability, his grunts of effort as he thrust hard and fast so loud in Naum’s ear. He opened his eyes, reaching back blindly to tug at Serith’s patchwork hair and guide him into a messy, clumsy kiss. It was desperate, stealing what little breath they could afford and panting harsh against each other’s cheeks.

Serith’s grip on him was firm and sure. Naum loved it. He adored the feeling of his bulk covering him warm and solid, the dominant press of his forelegs against his sides. Tight as it was, it was welcome. He could feel his body clamp down around Serith’s cock, drawing a low groan from him that made Naum’s cock pulse and spray a line of precum across the grass. He drew Serith’s tongue into his mouth, hot and wet and perfect. Surrounded on all sides by Serith’s presence, filled by him, drunk on the need.

“Keep going, please,” he groaned, arching up into each punishing thrust. He clenched down as the latest thrust bottomed out in him, just to relish how it made Serith moan into the kiss. It was giddying, exactly what he’d hoped. When Serith shifted his weight, it changed the angle of his next thrust, causing his member to hit that spot deep inside Naum that made him cry out, one foreleg twitching up in ecstasy as his untouched cock ached for stimulation.

“There! Please, Serith, do that again!”

Serith pressed a line of hot kisses down his neck. “You beg so wonderfully for me.” His breathing was laboured, hips snapping forwards so forcefully that Naum struggled to keep his footing and stumbled forwards a step. The other centaur barely faltered his thrusting, stepping after him and readjusting the grip of his forelegs. “I like hearing you beg, keep doing it.”

“Please, Serith-” The cock ploughing deep into him jolted a frisson of pleasure down his spine. Serith’s lips pressed harsh, claiming kisses to every inch of skin he could reach. He was sweating now from their exertions, he could feel the dampness running down his back. “Please, fill me again. I- I need it.”

To his surprise, the manic pace slowed down. He felt the slow pull as Serith withdrew his cock with agonising slowness. Eventually, only the slick head was inside, the engorged flesh pressing against the inside of his rim. Naum whimpered at the feeling, leaning heavily back against Serith. In an instant, he knew what was about to happen. A shaking breath, and then he staggered forwards as the cock slammed in. The half-flared ridge of the head raked over that spot inside him that made him moan as his cock dripped precum.

“Fu- uck ,” Serith groaned in his ear, and he could feel the hot length inside him pulse out a warm jet of pre. The lewd wet sounds between them only increased the more their bodies met, and soon he felt the telltale wetness seep down over his balls and thighs as excess oil and pre was pulled out with each hard thrust. Naum panted, his mouth open and breath sawing in his throat as he struggled to keep up with his body’s frantic demand for air. His cock pulsed against his belly, his legs trembled from the strain and the pleasure. Serith’s mouth found his neck, sucking  and nipping until he could feel the heat that would become another bruise. “Not sure how long I can last,” Serith grunted against his jaw, lips brushing against Naum’s beard. “But I’ll breed you like a stallion should until you can’t hold any more of my seed.”

Naum whined his pleasure, arching his hips desperately as Serith’s cock found his prostate again. His cock thumped up against his belly, desperate for release. He wanted to feel Serith climax inside him, wanted to be left with that full feeling of being mounted and bred, and he wanted to mount and breed in turn, fuck hard and be fucked hard. When he had the breath to, all he could do now was beg for more, body tightening rhythmically around Serith’s cock, any last little bit of stimulation to tip himself over the edge into bliss. Serith grunted and groaned hot in his ear, breath ruffling Naum’s sweat-damp curls, forelegs clamped down around him as their bodies rocked together in a frantic climb towards a shared release.

It wasn’t long until Naum lurched forwards under the weight of a final shuddering thrust and felt that odd ridge around Serith’s cockhead expand deep inside him, flaring out. He'd seen how it worked, he could picture it well enough. It ached his already stretched insides, but the sensations made him groan. He felt every hot pulse of come that twitched up and out the length of Serith’s cock to pool deep inside him, arching his back and gasping as their hips ground together.

Their lips met once more, and the rough open-mouthed kiss was just enough for Naum. He squeezed his eyes shut and cried out as his heated arousal built to a breaking point, cock throbbing as rope after rope of his come fell to the ground underneath them. Senses bolstered by the rut, it felt like his orgasm lasted far longer than a handful of beautiful, dizzying moments.

He stood panting and trembling as his senses gradually stopped reeling. Serith was still a warm weight over and inside him, and though he longed to stand there and bear his weight a little longer, Serith had a far heavier build than he was used to and his hips were starting to ache from the strain and his spread-legged stance.

Naum gently eased himself out from under Serith’s lax grip, feeling how the softening flare tugged against his rim before it slipped free with a rush of warmth. The heavy thumps of Serith’s hooves landed behind him. His legs were sluggish as he pivoted to face Serith, arms hanging loose and relaxed in the afterglow. Serith looked just as pleasantly tired, and Naum leaned against his broad chest as they both recovered, the slightly larger centaur a solid presence.

“As good as that was,” he mumbled against the warmth of a pectoral muscle, “You are bad for my back.” He emphasised it by stretching out his lower half, easing fresh aches.

“Calling me fat?” Serith huffed, still sounding winded. He could feel the oversized lungs beneath his cheek through flesh and bone heaving to deliver much-needed oxygen to the blood.

“Mm, no. Just heavy.” Naum felt his passage clench down around the memory of his girth and grinned to himself. “Big.”

Serith chuckled at that. “Not for a few minutes, though.”

Naum’s hands drifted down to where skin met rough black and white hair. “I can think of a few ways we could pass the time until then.” He offered, feeling his breeding spire firm up again.

“I’m sure you can. Tell me one?”

Naum sucked air through his teeth, and stepped back so they could talk face to face. He smiled easily at Serith, tracing a hand over his jaw. “I could mount you, have my filthy way with you?”

“That sounds like fun.”

Serith stood shaky as a foal, staring at Naum’s backside as he stepped out from under his loosened grip. Oh … He’d been exaggerating before, but he could already see lines of his come leaking out of the closing pink flash of Naum’s entrance to decorate his fur like pearly white honey. It was certainly a sight to behold.

When Naum turned and rested his head against his chest for support, Serith gave a sigh of satisfaction. It was an easy thing, to bask in the languid afterglow together. He refused to torment himself with thoughts of infidelity. It was the rut; he needed this. They both needed this. And wherever Retlok was, he would likely need it as well. Whenever they next crossed paths they would talk about it, he promised himself. The sound and vibration of Naum’s voice muffled against his chest drew him back from his drifting thoughts.

“As good as that was, you are bad for my back.” Naum stretched his legs out, giving Serith a good view of how his back might have arched up against him earlier, the white tuft of his tail flicking up.

“Calling me fat?”

“Mm, no. Just heavy. Big.”

That got a laugh from him. Big indeed . “Not for a few minutes, though.” He admitted, body still recovering. That didn’t discourage Naum, though. He felt callused fingers run along the join between upper and lower torso. His skin twitched as if trying to shake off a fly.

“I can think of a few ways we could pass the time until then.”

“I’m sure you can. Tell me one?”

Naum stepped away from him and smiled, one hand raising itself to his jaw like a lover’s touch. In a way, he supposed they were. Temporary lovers, at least. When he spoke, his voice was low and alluring. Seductive. “I could mount you, have my filthy way with you?”

“That sounds like fun.” Serith was more than eager to turn round to present himself. He lifted his tail up and to the side in his best jenny impression and placed his hands against the stone wall. “I think the oil’s down by our bags somewhere?”

“I don’t… Ah! Found it!”

Serith watched over one shoulder as Naum approached him, fingers already slick with oil. Despite the display, his focus didn’t immediately narrow down to Serith’s waiting entrance. His warm hands instead cupped one of Serith’s balls that now lay relaxed and drained in their midnight-black sack, still a heavy palmful thanks to the rut's influence. It was as if he was assessing their weight, imagining how much seed they’d left in him. Serith shivered at the touch and leaned into it. It helped ease his spent cock back into service, the rutting urge only briefly sated.

Naum’s fingers moved up over his perineum, leaving behind a thin sheen of oil, and then rested on the wrinkled skin of his entrance. No time was wasted in easing the first finger inside him. Serith grunted at the slight pain of being stretched, something he’d sorely missed and fantasised about. “Keep going,” he urged when Naum faltered, the noise sounding like some potential hurt.

He basked in the steady attention for a while longer, Naum adding a second and then a third finger, and he found himself rocking his hips back into the probing touches. However, when Naum showed little sign of moving to the next step Serith knew he had to encourage him. He looked back with a seductive grin, wriggling free from Naum’s fingers.

“I think it’s high time for your patience to be properly rewarded, Naum.” All it took was a clench of his muscles, and he winked for Naum like a needy jenny. Naum stared at his entrance as it quivered for him, silent and eyes wide.

Serith was ready for the desperate scrabble of hooves as Naum abruptly mounted him like a randy colt, easily able to take the smaller man’s weight as those split hooves gripped tight around his barrel. He shivered in delight when he felt the wet slickness of Naum’s arousal jab insistently at his rear, blindly seeking entrance. Serith lowered his upper torso to peer upside down between his legs, doing what he could to direct Naum’s lust to the target. The most frustrating part of sex, in his opinion.

“Right a bit, down- ow, too far down-”

“Sorry-” Naum grunted, hind legs shuffling through the grass as he strove for the right point.

“Up, closer…” Serith bit his lip, painfully aware of how close they both were to mutual pleasure as soon as they could finish this awkward little dance of angles. A few more seconds of unbearable torment, and then Serith felt Naum’s tapered head catch against his opening, press in a few inches. They both gasped for breath at the sensation, and Naum wasted no time in pressing forwards.

Serith straightened up and braced his arms on the wall in front of him, anticipating the feel of Naum filling him and rutting him… Only to be met with a peculiar emptiness and then Naum swearing explosively.

He immediately twisted to see Naum pressed so tight against his hindquarters that he was almost standing vertical, gripping him so hard round the flank that it hurt, his antlered head tipped up to swear at the sky. To say that Serith was confused and disappointed was an understatement. He could feel Naum inside him still - what in all the Grass Seas was wrong?

“Naum?” He ventured, struggling to make sense of the situation. “If something’s wrong we can-”

Naum looked back at him, face flushed in what Serith thought was arousal at first in the dim lighting, but quickly realised was embarrassment. “Yes, something is wrong.”

“Do you, ah, need a minute?” Serith was delicate with the question. He’d known the embarrassment of getting too excited and desperate his first handful of times mounting a partner, barely lasting a few manic thrusts before the stimulation overwhelmed him.

Naum shook his head firmly and scowled down at their bodies. Serith took stock of the situation. Naum was too far back on him, forelegs digging into the space of his flanks before his hips rather than draped over his ribs, bodyweight pressed uncomfortably down on top of his hips. He was practically standing upright on his hind legs like a two-leg to be able to reach his goal.

“I’m too short,” Naum huffed as he dismounted. While he was the same height at the withers as a regular equine centaur, compared to Serith’s larger drafter frame which left him standing a full head taller than most of his clanmates, there was clearly a small but very important height difference when it came to mounting.

“No, it’s not your fault. If anything, I’m too tall.” Serith turned around to face him. “I’m so sorry, I should have realised but I was more focused on being too big for you.” Serith tapped his fingers against his bottom lip as he thought of ways to work around their height difference. “What if I…?” He turned around again, folding his legs under him to lie down on the ground. This way, he figured, Naum could simply stand over him.

Naum didn’t need any instruction to try again, stepping forwards and over Serith’s prone and waiting body with an uncertain look to his eyes that told Serith that for all his experience in other areas of sex, this was a first for him as well. “If this is too weird for either of us we can figure something else out.” He promised.

Naum nodded in agreement, lowering his haunches. Serith watched the thin, tapering spire of his cock bob as he adjusted his position; truly an excellent view. Tail held up and to one side, all he could do was shiver at the first testing thrusts, cock blindly seeking entrance but smearing lines of glinting precum over his fur when it missed. They both groaned in relief when Naum’s tip eventually found the mark and sank into willing warmth. Serith’s eyes fluttered closed in pleasure, only to feel the warmth of Naum’s hands on his shoulders coaxing him up for a wonderful kiss.

“I shall enjoy this,” Naum purred against his ear. With their lips pressed tight together and their hands roaming as far over each other as the position allowed, he began.

Serith grunted as the thrusts began slow but sharp, a slow pull out and a rough snapping forwards as Naum worked the rest of his body open. Surprising, but not unwelcome. He enjoyed the heat of his cock sliding in and out of him, and his hole clenched down around it at the height of each thrust, wanting it to stay. It was wholly unfair of him to compare Naum’s cock to the larger lengths he’d taken in the past, but he couldn’t help it. The feeling was completely new to him. It was far different to what he was used to; there was no stretching feel of girth and sheer size that an equine cock possessed, designed to fill him to the brim and try his limits with every thrust, but instead the slick glide of a smaller, more nimble cock with room to work over every one of Serith’s pleasurable spots with finesse.

He could catch his breath and enjoy the feeling of a slowly building orgasm, rather than be assaulted with an overwhelming amount of pleasure with every thrust. Naum seemed determined to ensure that they both enjoyed themselves. His breathing was loud in his ear when the kisses trailed off, his head dipping to nip and kiss along Serith’s shoulders. His hips flexed in with every thrust, all the urgency of a bestial prey animal’s mating drive coupled with the leisurely bliss of a man who could control when his urge to climax overwhelmed him.

Serith tipped his head back to stare up into the night sky, each heavy breath out laced with half-formed words as he begged for more.

“Ah… Ah, Naum…” The name rolled off his tongue in a low, broken moan as Naum thrust deep into him, pleasure surging up his spine. He clenched down on Naum’s cock, pulling the firm, pre-slick flesh deep. Naum grunted above him, buried up to the hilt in beautifully gripping heat. Ancestors, it was perfect. His heartbeat pounded in his head, his lungs barely able to keep up with his body’s demands for more. Their shared breathing was hot in such close quarters, prickling over his skin. He reached back and pulled Naum’s head back to his, their noises of desire lost between their lips. Naum’s lowered hips stuttered of their own accord, thrusts faltering. He grunted and swore something fluid in his native language against Serith’s cheek, eyes wide. Oh, he knew the feeling. That feeling of not wanting to come just yet, to savour the heavy intensity of dangling on the edge of release, that second before everything came unwound and crashed down into oblivion. But it had to come, for the mad ecstasy of relief as he spilt his seed deep. He ran a hand through Naum’s curls, soothing where he could.

“I’m close,” Naum warned, his free hand gripping Serith’s shoulder hard, thighs trembling not just from the strain of the position.

“So am I,” Serith’s sides heaved under Naum’s forelegs. “Fuck me, Naum.”

He would be mad to resist such an invitation. He hunched over Serith’s back as he worked frantically towards his release. Serith tightened his inner muscles in waves to keep Naum inside him for as long as possible, milk him for every last drop. The lust maddened thoughts swirled in his head and spilt out his lips between open-mouthed moans. Behind, above, within him- fuck - Naum’s presence filled him one final time before drawing back. Was that it? Was he done? Their hips collided with a loud impact as Naum surged forwards in a final, violent buck of a thrust, so abruptly that if Serith hadn’t been lying down he would have stumbled forwards. The stillness that followed announced his climax, as if Serith wasn’t able to feel the pooling heat deep inside him, or the low, sinful groan at his ear. He groaned in turn, shuddering as his wholly untended cock ached for enough contact to reach his own climax; how he wished he was flexible enough to roll onto his side and reach down far enough to take himself in hand!

Naum’s slim cock withdrew, and the heat of his presence backed away.

“What…?” He panted, looking over his shoulder in confusion. Naum backed a half step away from him. All he could do was stare at him, sides damp with sweat, cock leaking precum out onto the grass from where it was pinned against his belly. His mind spun from a release that had been so damn close but denied.

“Give me a moment, Serith,” Naum stretched his hind legs out, pained after so long spent crouching down. Serith couldn’t help but look, expecting to see a softening cock retreating out of sight, but he was surprised to see the cum-slick breeding spire was flush with arousal, ready to perform again. His eyes widened at the sight.

“You can go again so soon?”

Naum grinned at him with the same youthful mischief, a nod his only answer before he moved forwards to cover Serith again. Now he knew what to expect and where to expect it, his initial thrusts were far more accurate; Serith grunted as he was filled after only a few testing thrusts, right the way to Naum’s hilt. He was ready for the warmth of Naum’s body pressed against his, even in this unusual position. He craved it now. His need had barely dimmed during the brief pause, and it soon built high as Naum’s lips found his throat, each of his thrusts steady and determined. Serith closed his eyes with a low groan, reaching up blindly for Naum. One hand found his arm and gripped tight, the other cupped the rough facial hair at his jawline, drawing them both deeper and deeper into the kiss. His hips rocked against Naum’s as best they could, chasing each second of blessed friction and demanding more as their bodies surged together.

“Haaa, Naum…” He whined as that wonderful cock brushed over the places inside of him that made his cock ooze precum in thick drooling lines. He tightened his passage around it and was rewarded with Naum’s body hunching tight over him as hot, panting breaths rended the air behind his head. He felt a hand race down his left arm, the one cupping Naum’s jaw, and he was all too happy to comply as Naum gently pulled it behind his back to use as leverage. They didn’t hold hands, that was far too intimate for something as bestial as this raw rutting, Naum simply gripped his offered forearm tight. Like before the claiming thrusts became ruthless in their force as Naum put every ounce of strength behind each thrust. Serith could only squeeze his eyes shut against the onslaught of pleasure. His breath sawed in desperate gasps out of his chest. His balls tightened, preparing for climax, and he squeezed down around Naum’s length again and again, urging him over the edge with him.

“I’m close,” he choked out.

Naum laughed just behind his ear. “I can tell.” Another claiming kiss to Serith’s shoulder, and the end neared for them both. Now Serith knew what would happen, he was ready for the violent final thrust as Naum powered deep into him. The sudden, sharp feeling of being filled by a spurting cock was enough to push Serith over the edge with a hoarse keen. His body twitched against the grass, flared cock pulsing out strand after hot strand.

As before, Naum didn’t linger on his back, and Serith gave a low, broken moan as he felt him slip out of his quivering passage. Once he knew Naum was clear, he flopped over onto his side as the pleasure washed through him, cock twitching as the last thick drops of seminal gel left him.

“Fffuuck…” He drawled, his body too heavy to move, eyes too heavy to open. His hearts felt like they were about to leave his body, they beat so hard. He could hear Naum’s panting breaths come up alongside him, and a gentle nudge to his lower back. “Mmn?” He grunted, reluctantly opening one eye. Everything felt… Slower after he came, body sluggish like he was waking up from a deep sleep. Standing over him, Naum looked just as worn out, his sides matted down by sweat, breathing hard, one hoof lifted.

“Making sure I didn’t kill you with my dick.”

“What a way to die,” Serith gave a dreamy sigh, running a hand through his hair and pushing it out of the way of his eyes. The fire had waned, gentle shifting shadows playing over the old stonework. It would need rebuilding soon.

“Enjoy yourself?”

“Of course. You?”

“It was wonderful.” Naum had chosen that side of Serith’s body due to the unmarked grass on that side; his forelegs folded gracefully under him as he settled down beside him with a tired grin.

“I might need a few minutes before I can go again.”

“Oh, have I tired you out already?”

“Hardly,” Serith scoffed, languidly swatting at Naum’s stomach. “I’m old .” Thirty-four wasn’t exactly old for a centaur, but as he lay there and soaked in the afterglow he felt like it. Maybe it was because he’d come three times in quick succession? Or maybe it was the simple fact that it had been a while since he had last been with someone like this? He’d fallen out of practice. He gave a heavy sigh of disappointment in himself. He couldn’t allow himself to be tired out so easily on the first night of the rut!

Naum laughed. “You cannot be much older than me. Thirty?” He guessed with a tilt of the head. Serith rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to keep sweet-talking me, we’ve already had sex. I’m thirty-four.”

“Thirty-six.”

Serith stared up at Naum in mocking disbelief. “Sure that you don’t need a few extra minutes? Don’t want you to have a heart attack.”

“I think I will be fine.” With a sigh, Naum joined him on the ground, rolling over onto his back and wriggling until he was comfortable. “But I clearly need to do a better job.” His voice was low and seductive again as they gazed at each other.

“Mm,” Serith agreed. “I still want to feel you squirm under me and beg to be bred.”

Naum leaned over to press a firm kiss to Serith’s cheek, his beard rubbing against Serith’s jaw. “I think that can be arranged.” He smiled as he rolled onto his front and began to stand. “As long as I can put my mouth to your cock and watch your face as you come undone down my throat.”  He reached for Serith’s hand and tugged him up to his hooves. “Perhaps teach you how to do it…?”

Serith had been in agreement since ‘cock’. All the rest was lewd background noise that made heat bloom in his face. “Deal.” Facing each other, their lips met again in a series of heated kisses that promised a long and eventful night ahead.