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Rand drew a spoonful and let it tumble back into the bowl. The chunks of vegetables tasted bland and the meat was too chewy. Stale bread, unwashed pears, all of it seemed unappetizing tonight. It wasn’t like the food he had been able to eat at the neighboring Duke’s court when he visited his older brothers. The mink glanced over to his father a few feet down the table. The elder Kelverstead ate with an impatience to every bite, as though food itself was an annoying afterthought that he couldn’t simply dismiss with a command or a wave of his hand. Rand missed his brothers. All three of them, even Koark who had been an insufferable sibling who adored tormenting his younger brother. There used to be jokes and bravado and actual conversations at the table. Now, it was just him and his father attended by silent servants who quickly left the two alone. At least, that was how it always was until the count had some discipline or instruction for him.\n\n“How’s your portrait coming?”\n\nRand jumped, his spoon slipping out of his hand and clacking onto the table. He wiped up the spill quickly, speaking dryly, “The painter said the first layer is done, but he wants me to do another session tonight.”\n\n“How did it look?”\n\nThe young mink paused, unsure whether he should share his honest opinion or try to lie. His father could snuff out lies, eventually. “Didn’t Vincent tell you about it?”\n\nCount Kelverstead snorted, his tone dismissive. “He had no strong opinion. Not that he should. He’s a steward and the badger has more pressing concerns than your profile. How did you like it?” He asked again.\n\nRand knew he wouldn’t be able to dodge past a vague answer. “I don’t like the painter.” Be honest, but not wholly, Rand told himself. It was how he avoided offending his father’s good intentions whenever they ran counter to Rand’s interests.\n\nThankfully, it was answered in a firm grunt. The count gnawed a piece of bread, making quick work of it as he stood, finished with his meal. “You’ll aid him however you can in finishing the portrait. Be cooperative.”\n\nAs he began to leave Rand leaned up out of his chair. “Dad? What if I don’t like what he paints me as?”\n\nHis father turned, releasing the rare chortle from his gruff visage. “Convince him otherwise. It’s about time you started to asserting yourself.”\n\nOnce his father was out of sight, Rand sank back down into his seat and let his face fall flat. His eyes glanced from each of the six empty chairs; four brothers, one father, and a long empty chair to a mother who’d taken ill sometime before he could remember faces. Not that it mattered, he’d had several nannies. Of course, they were all gone now. The only thing that remained were his father, the steward who enjoyed mocking him, and Ekkart.\n\nAs he began to dwell on the donkey he found himself back in the stable, the straw strewn about the floor and the tapir-\n\nEmbers of outrage burned in the mink’s chest. His heart was like a bellows, each heartbeat encouraging the unnatural jealousy to flare up until he threw his spoon across the room. Although he was small, he carried the weight of the Kelverstead noble line in his lineage and he could command just a well as his father could. Assertion! It was a quality he would foster.\n\nHe strode through the halls, moving with determination in his every step. Perhaps that would be his talent. An air of confidence and a strong presence. It was something none of his siblings had really inherited from their father. It took all his brothers years before they would prove their noble manner and coordination in court. Rand planned to do it with this painter. The painting would be grand. It would have no slouching, no slack expression, and his eyes would be tilted up, defiant and proud.\n\nThe painter had arranged for the second session in the same room, alone again. The mink hesitated as he reached for the door handle. His vision swam and his breath caught in his chest as he remembered the stable, the naked stench of sex, and Ekkart lips mouthing over Lavni’s fat nipple. A mixture of disgust and arousal flooded Rand’s body as he pushed himself through the door. The room was lit dimly, but the spot Rand had posed was bright with several lamps. The tapir was already here, lounging on a set of pillows he’d pillaged from somewhere else in the estate. \n\nThe tapir looked up from a sketchbook he seemed to be scratching on with a long pen, beaming. “Ah! My little lordling returns.”\n\n“Be silent.” Rand hissed as he stepped back into his spot. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he pondered the words he’d use, something to make him sound as intimidating as his father might be. It came to him in an instant; don’t stall, rush the result. Give those below no time to think but to obey. “Well? Aren’t you prepared, painter?” The mink said in a forceful tone.\n\nThe artist’s eye simply stared at his subject, a brow raised ever so slightly as the foreigner frowned. “I’ve upset you.”\n\nRand’s posture stiffened. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as someone so easily roused into emotion. “With my portrait, yes. My father’s steward was correct, a Kelverstead look so,” He paused, trying not to wince. “Wrong. Start with a new canvas.”\n\nLavni sat up, folding his hands in front of his thick trunk, studying the young mustelid. “You’re jealous then? I meant no offense to my little lordling. I didn’t know the stable boy had been claimed. He left out that you two were close.” The last word came out after a short, curious pause.\n\nThe mink clenched his fists tighter, thrusting them down to his sides as he glared at the tapir. “I couldn’t care to bother with someone of such low birth. A man at that.”\n\n“Ha! I hardly think either of you are men yet. Lovers, absolutely, but still such very clumsy boys.” The tapir laughed, the force of his guffaws causing his round midsection to jostle about.\n\n“That’s a repulsive thing to say. I courted at the ball held just down the river, you know. I danced with one of the Baroness’ handmaiden’s and gave the Duke’s fifth daughter my favor.”\n\n“Your favor?” The narrowed gaze of the artist had lewd intent that was deeply intoned in his voice.\n\n“My handkerchief.” Rand clarified, as though he were talking to an imbecile.\n\n“What a bachelor. Is that why you’re trying on a new face for your portrait? Is all this bravado brought out just because I fucked your donkey?”\n\n“Shut up!” Rand stepped off of his post, his voice bitter and carrying as much force as his light tone could carry. “You made him do it anyway! He would never let anyone do something like that to him. You-you used your devil magic!”\n\nTo say Lavni was taken aback was an under statement. The tapir leaned back at the loud outburst from what he had assumed was another meek offspring of a spoiled noble line. Yet, he didn’t recoil or shrink away as Rand had intended. Instead, he let his eyes take an almost pitying look. “Ekkart never lets you fuck him, does he?”\n\n“Quiet, painter, or I’ll have you thrown out-”\n\n“He is strong. Thick, well built. He mounts you, doesn’t he? Calls you sweet things as he plows the Count’s son.”\n\n“Stop acting like you know everything!”\n\n“I certainly know more than you, even more so about yourself.”\n\n“I’ve had enough of this,” Rand marched towards the door, his fur bristling. “Get out. I won’t have you as my painter. I’ll have my father get a new one-”\n\nBefore Rand could finish that thought, the tapir voice rose to dwarf his own. “Does your father know you get fucked by the stable boy?”\n\nThe mink’s paw clenched the door handle, but the strength he thought he’d had was gone in an instant. He turned a hair towards the lounging artist. The tapir grinned underneath his dangling trunk. “Does the steward know? Does anybody but Ekkart and I know you are, shall we say, aroused at the thought of other men?”\n\nRand leaned his head against the door and slowly beat it on the wood. “No, no one else.”\n\n“I don’t intend to threaten to invite everyone in this estate into your secret, but I can’t imagine any other way to convince you to get a hold on your senses.” The tapir patted the pillows next to him, his voice returning to a more gentle volume. “I don’t think we’ll be painting tonight, but an artist must get to know one’s subject in order to capture their essence in the ink so others might see a glimmer of their soul. Sit next to me. Lets talk to one another instead of speaking such harsh language.”\n\nRand complied only as much as approaching the tapir’s pillow pile. He folded his arms across his chest tightly, his face burning with defeat. His father might have fought harder, summoned a deeper threat to counter, but Rand wasn’t his father. He’d submitted, as he was prone to. He stood silently, close enough to smell the warm mixture of exotic soaps mixed in with the tapir’s natural, rugged stench. The mink wrinkled his nose and shrugged, glaring. “Well?”\n\n“Is the donkey your only lover? Your first?” Lavni reclined, seeming all too eager to divulge in such talk.\n\nRand nodded twice, rolling his eyes. “Why do you need to know?”\n\n“I’m afraid I’ve had too many to count. I miss my first. I suppose it’s refreshing to see you struggle so with such a simple thing.”\n\nRand paused, studying the tapir’s lewd expression. “Were they all men?”\n\n“All boys, but I suppose some are stronger, hardier stuff now. Not all possess the gifts of youth long and I savor such placid and well trained courtesans.”\n\n“You mean whores?” The mink’s face tightened in a fit of disgust.\n\n“You’ll find that the brothels of Gatlisuu possess higher standards than your cheap houses of dull pleasures. Cleaner too.”\n\n“Be that as it may, Don’t you think it improper to take so many? After all, I am unlikely to inherit a survivable portion of my fathers estate so it is best if I find a suitable woman to settle with.”\n\nLavni batted a hand towards the mustelid, grunting. “Why not find a trade? Become a merchant? Don’t bother yourself with the politics of woman.”\n\nRand swallowed, his throat feeling rather dry. “I, um, don’t think I could be good enough to do that. My arithmetic isn’t on par with my brothers.”\n\n“No wonder your portrait looks miserable. You compare yourself to those already skilled beyond your reach and your greatest achievement will be living unhappily with a selfish northern lady. Don’t you have a dream? Most boys your age hope to lead men into battle-”\n\nRand quickly shook his head. “Fighting scares me.”\n\nLavni raised an eyebrow. “Sell merchandise along the river?”\n\n“I miscount my figures and I get sick on boats.”\n\n“Preach a gospel of God?”\n\n“I’m scared of public speaking.”\n\nLavni laughed, letting his plump cheek rest against his fist as he blinked at the young lad before him. “The one thing we do know you can do is let other men fuck you.”\n\nThe fur on Rand’s face bristled and he clenched his teeth together. “It’s just Ekkart.”\n\n“Still upset,” The painter sighed. “How selfish you are.”\n\nRand began to stand up, his eyes narrowing sharply, but Lavni held up a hand and continued. “You object to rolling around in the hay with the donkey, yes?”\n\n“Of course!”\n\n“Is he not entitled to be equally furious that you will one day commit your life to a woman just because it’s expected? Otherwise, what authority do you have to your objection? Is this love or are you merely upset that somebody else got a hand on your toy?”\n\n“No, it’s not that.” Rand said, but his eyes dipped towards the ground. He felt conflicted, ashamed, and it was making his limbs tense and jerky. It was difficult to say which he felt more ashamed of, to his dismay; the fact he was letting another male mount him like a girl or that he treated the relationship as one would treat a plaything. “I mean, I like Ekkart. He’s-”\n\n“Alluring like the torch is to the moth?” Lavni queried. His sudden poetic turn forced a smile out of Rand.\n\n“No, nothing like that. He’s not like everything I grew up with. He speaks plainly, in a way I can understand. Ekkart isn’t fit or clean, but he’s still strong and he has, um,” Rand tried to use his paws to gesture, unsure how to convey his meaning. “A very big-”\n\n“He has a massive dick?” Lavni suggested.\n\nRand’s face went slack a moment, giving the tapir an annoyed blink before simply saying. “He’s got a handsome belly.” He liked applying kind, eloquent words to Ekkart.\n\nThe artist’s eyes almost seemed taken aback, amused as ever by the mink. “My, my, what secrets you hold, little lordling.” Chuckling, the tapir reached down and clutched a handful of his bare belly. It fit into the meat of his hand and he gave the whole mound a shake. “You like your men big, eh?”\n\nRand immediately began to swivel away, biting his lower lip.\n\n“Don’t be embarrassed.”\n\nRand stumbled with his words. “I can’t bother with this-.”\n\nThe tapir sighed as he undid the button clasping his vest tightly to his pudgy frame. “Were you truly jealous that I had taken my fill of Ekkart? Or, perhaps, were you jealous that he had taken his fill of me?”\n\n“Well-”\n\n“Come here, little lordling. Quit denying what you know to be true like some terrified bunny. You are noble blooded, aren’t you? Be bold.”\n\nThose last two words gave Rand pause. Boldness; a quality none of his other siblings had seemed to possess. They had fell into roles they’d been groomed for, naturally inclined towards. Rand had yet to discover one for himself and yet-\n\nThe young mink turned, tentatively, and saw the tapir’s girth splayed out over his lap as he loosened the satin belt he had tied around his wide waist. Rand’s eyes widened, letting his gaze quickly dart down to the slight bulge in the artist’s nethers that pushed out against the fabric. The gut was thick, broad, and, now that it was loosened from much of the restraining fabric, sagging with the weight of its bulk.\n\n“Come here and touch me. Indulge.”\n\nHearing a command from Lavni was different than before. He had been fixated on whatever magic the tapir possessed, compelling him to obey. Now, however, he felt himself drawn forward towards the foreigner from the Southlands. He knelt beside the half naked man, his eyes studying the curves and rolls of fat that were splayed before him. The hot aroma of the tapir was no longer the sickly stench of exotic soaps, but a rustic stench of sweat and arousal. It was a simple characteristic of me that most would ignore or turn their nose up at. Rand fawned over such a thing, however. He brought a memory of Ekkart, shirtless, his biceps glistening in the sun, putting on a show for the Count’s son before lifting an arm and letting the mink tilt his nose towards the ripe pit.\n\nRand’s muzzle dipped, just hovering above the bare, flabby flesh. A low hum from Lavni startled him. “Skittish little thing, aren’t you?” The tapir said, his mouth curling into a devious grin. “Do not be ashamed, boy. Sate yourself.”\n\nRand met his gaze, hoping he’d see that dim, purple glow. Instead he forced himself to look away after bearing the tapir’s dominant gaze, leaning his neck down to the massive paunch splayed out before him. The mink bolstered his resolve, feeling his anxieties tear at him, trying to wrench him away from this act. Despite the whirling heartbeats in his chest, Rand let his face descend and meet the warm, doughy slab below. He held his breath, almost afraid to even breath, but he let out a gasp as he felt the painter’s strong hands land over his neck. He expected force, some insistence to continue, but instead he felt a comforting rub along his inner ear, Lavni thick fingers petting and stroking the mink’s head. \n\n“Kiss it.” Lavni said in his low, dry tone. His grin widened as Rand’s lips puckered against the side of his belly and began to peck along the broad mound of pudge. It continued like this with Rand growing bolder as the clumsy act continued. The mustelid ran his face along the soft fuzz of the tapir’s profound gut, his kisses growing deeper and more eager until he was shoving his cheeks against the heavy stomach. His dainty hands also found purchase, stroking and turning themselves from knuckle to palm along the rotund bow of Lavni’s midsection.\n\nEven with Ekkart, he hadn’t gotten so-the word escaped him.\n\nEnamored.\n\nLavni didn’t speak and Rand barely lifted his face up from the tapir’s paunch. He dragged his tongue along the soft fat that sank at his fervent licks, following the hill up to its top where he found his teeth nibbling against the meaty breats, broad and tipped this thick nubs and a scent that drove his mind into a lustful haze.\n\n“Stop.” The tapir said, but it had to be repeated a couple more times before the mink pried his mouth from the chubby frame. It was the first time Rand had seen such an honest smile out of the foreigner. “Let me help pace you, little one.”\n\n“But-but can’t I continue?”\n\n“Trust the older hand to turn the wheel. There is still much I must see and learn from you!”\n\n“Like what? What more is there.” Rand asked impatiently.\n\nLavni’s smile widened underneath the plump trunk. “Undress for me.”", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "The soup had gone cold. Rand drew a spoonful and let it tumble back into the bowl. The chunks of vegetables tasted bland and the meat was too chewy. Stale bread, unwashed pears, all of it seemed unappetizing tonight. It wasn’t like the food he had been able to eat at the neighboring Duke’s court when he visited his older brothers. The mink glanced over to his father a few feet down the table. The elder Kelverstead ate with an impatience to every bite, as though food itself was an annoying afterthought that he couldn’t simply dismiss with a command or a wave of his hand. Rand missed his brothers. All three of them, even Koark who had been an insufferable sibling who adored tormenting his younger brother. There used to be jokes and bravado and actual conversations at the table. Now, it was just him and his father attended by silent servants who quickly left the two alone. At least, that was how it always was until the count had some discipline or instruction for him.

“How’s your portrait coming?”

Rand jumped, his spoon slipping out of his hand and clacking onto the table. He wiped up the spill quickly, speaking dryly, “The painter said the first layer is done, but he wants me to do another session tonight.”

“How did it look?”

The young mink paused, unsure whether he should share his honest opinion or try to lie. His father could snuff out lies, eventually. “Didn’t Vincent tell you about it?”

Count Kelverstead snorted, his tone dismissive. “He had no strong opinion. Not that he should. He’s a steward and the badger has more pressing concerns than your profile. How did you like it?” He asked again.

Rand knew he wouldn’t be able to dodge past a vague answer. “I don’t like the painter.” Be honest, but not wholly, Rand told himself. It was how he avoided offending his father’s good intentions whenever they ran counter to Rand’s interests.

Thankfully, it was answered in a firm grunt. The count gnawed a piece of bread, making quick work of it as he stood, finished with his meal. “You’ll aid him however you can in finishing the portrait. Be cooperative.”

As he began to leave Rand leaned up out of his chair. “Dad? What if I don’t like what he paints me as?”

His father turned, releasing the rare chortle from his gruff visage. “Convince him otherwise. It’s about time you started to asserting yourself.”

Once his father was out of sight, Rand sank back down into his seat and let his face fall flat. His eyes glanced from each of the six empty chairs; four brothers, one father, and a long empty chair to a mother who’d taken ill sometime before he could remember faces. Not that it mattered, he’d had several nannies. Of course, they were all gone now. The only thing that remained were his father, the steward who enjoyed mocking him, and Ekkart.

As he began to dwell on the donkey he found himself back in the stable, the straw strewn about the floor and the tapir-

Embers of outrage burned in the mink’s chest. His heart was like a bellows, each heartbeat encouraging the unnatural jealousy to flare up until he threw his spoon across the room. Although he was small, he carried the weight of the Kelverstead noble line in his lineage and he could command just a well as his father could. Assertion! It was a quality he would foster.

He strode through the halls, moving with determination in his every step. Perhaps that would be his talent. An air of confidence and a strong presence. It was something none of his siblings had really inherited from their father. It took all his brothers years before they would prove their noble manner and coordination in court. Rand planned to do it with this painter. The painting would be grand. It would have no slouching, no slack expression, and his eyes would be tilted up, defiant and proud.

The painter had arranged for the second session in the same room, alone again. The mink hesitated as he reached for the door handle. His vision swam and his breath caught in his chest as he remembered the stable, the naked stench of sex, and Ekkart lips mouthing over Lavni’s fat nipple. A mixture of disgust and arousal flooded Rand’s body as he pushed himself through the door. The room was lit dimly, but the spot Rand had posed was bright with several lamps. The tapir was already here, lounging on a set of pillows he’d pillaged from somewhere else in the estate.

The tapir looked up from a sketchbook he seemed to be scratching on with a long pen, beaming. “Ah! My little lordling returns.”

“Be silent.” Rand hissed as he stepped back into his spot. His heart hammered against his ribcage as he pondered the words he’d use, something to make him sound as intimidating as his father might be. It came to him in an instant; don’t stall, rush the result. Give those below no time to think but to obey. “Well? Aren’t you prepared, painter?” The mink said in a forceful tone.

The artist’s eye simply stared at his subject, a brow raised ever so slightly as the foreigner frowned. “I’ve upset you.”

Rand’s posture stiffened. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as someone so easily roused into emotion. “With my portrait, yes. My father’s steward was correct, a Kelverstead look so,” He paused, trying not to wince. “Wrong. Start with a new canvas.”

Lavni sat up, folding his hands in front of his thick trunk, studying the young mustelid. “You’re jealous then? I meant no offense to my little lordling. I didn’t know the stable boy had been claimed. He left out that you two were close.” The last word came out after a short, curious pause.

The mink clenched his fists tighter, thrusting them down to his sides as he glared at the tapir. “I couldn’t care to bother with someone of such low birth. A man at that.”

“Ha! I hardly think either of you are men yet. Lovers, absolutely, but still such very clumsy boys.” The tapir laughed, the force of his guffaws causing his round midsection to jostle about.

“That’s a repulsive thing to say. I courted at the ball held just down the river, you know. I danced with one of the Baroness’ handmaiden’s and gave the Duke’s fifth daughter my favor.”

“Your favor?” The narrowed gaze of the artist had lewd intent that was deeply intoned in his voice.

“My handkerchief.” Rand clarified, as though he were talking to an imbecile.

“What a bachelor. Is that why you’re trying on a new face for your portrait? Is all this bravado brought out just because I fucked your donkey?”

“Shut up!” Rand stepped off of his post, his voice bitter and carrying as much force as his light tone could carry. “You made him do it anyway! He would never let anyone do something like that to him. You-you used your devil magic!”

To say Lavni was taken aback was an under statement. The tapir leaned back at the loud outburst from what he had assumed was another meek offspring of a spoiled noble line. Yet, he didn’t recoil or shrink away as Rand had intended. Instead, he let his eyes take an almost pitying look. “Ekkart never lets you fuck him, does he?”

“Quiet, painter, or I’ll have you thrown out-”

“He is strong. Thick, well built. He mounts you, doesn’t he? Calls you sweet things as he plows the Count’s son.”

“Stop acting like you know everything!”

“I certainly know more than you, even more so about yourself.”

“I’ve had enough of this,” Rand marched towards the door, his fur bristling. “Get out. I won’t have you as my painter. I’ll have my father get a new one-”

Before Rand could finish that thought, the tapir voice rose to dwarf his own. “Does your father know you get fucked by the stable boy?”

The mink’s paw clenched the door handle, but the strength he thought he’d had was gone in an instant. He turned a hair towards the lounging artist. The tapir grinned underneath his dangling trunk. “Does the steward know? Does anybody but Ekkart and I know you are, shall we say, aroused at the thought of other men?”

Rand leaned his head against the door and slowly beat it on the wood. “No, no one else.”

“I don’t intend to threaten to invite everyone in this estate into your secret, but I can’t imagine any other way to convince you to get a hold on your senses.” The tapir patted the pillows next to him, his voice returning to a more gentle volume. “I don’t think we’ll be painting tonight, but an artist must get to know one’s subject in order to capture their essence in the ink so others might see a glimmer of their soul. Sit next to me. Lets talk to one another instead of speaking such harsh language.”

Rand complied only as much as approaching the tapir’s pillow pile. He folded his arms across his chest tightly, his face burning with defeat. His father might have fought harder, summoned a deeper threat to counter, but Rand wasn’t his father. He’d submitted, as he was prone to. He stood silently, close enough to smell the warm mixture of exotic soaps mixed in with the tapir’s natural, rugged stench. The mink wrinkled his nose and shrugged, glaring. “Well?”

“Is the donkey your only lover? Your first?” Lavni reclined, seeming all too eager to divulge in such talk.

Rand nodded twice, rolling his eyes. “Why do you need to know?”

“I’m afraid I’ve had too many to count. I miss my first. I suppose it’s refreshing to see you struggle so with such a simple thing.”

Rand paused, studying the tapir’s lewd expression. “Were they all men?”

“All boys, but I suppose some are stronger, hardier stuff now. Not all possess the gifts of youth long and I savor such placid and well trained courtesans.”

“You mean whores?” The mink’s face tightened in a fit of disgust.

“You’ll find that the brothels of Gatlisuu possess higher standards than your cheap houses of dull pleasures. Cleaner too.”

“Be that as it may, Don’t you think it improper to take so many? After all, I am unlikely to inherit a survivable portion of my fathers estate so it is best if I find a suitable woman to settle with.”

Lavni batted a hand towards the mustelid, grunting. “Why not find a trade? Become a merchant? Don’t bother yourself with the politics of woman.”

Rand swallowed, his throat feeling rather dry. “I, um, don’t think I could be good enough to do that. My arithmetic isn’t on par with my brothers.”

“No wonder your portrait looks miserable. You compare yourself to those already skilled beyond your reach and your greatest achievement will be living unhappily with a selfish northern lady. Don’t you have a dream? Most boys your age hope to lead men into battle-”

Rand quickly shook his head. “Fighting scares me.”

Lavni raised an eyebrow. “Sell merchandise along the river?”

“I miscount my figures and I get sick on boats.”

“Preach a gospel of God?”

“I’m scared of public speaking.”

Lavni laughed, letting his plump cheek rest against his fist as he blinked at the young lad before him. “The one thing we do know you can do is let other men fuck you.”

The fur on Rand’s face bristled and he clenched his teeth together. “It’s just Ekkart.”

“Still upset,” The painter sighed. “How selfish you are.”

Rand began to stand up, his eyes narrowing sharply, but Lavni held up a hand and continued. “You object to rolling around in the hay with the donkey, yes?”

“Of course!”

“Is he not entitled to be equally furious that you will one day commit your life to a woman just because it’s expected? Otherwise, what authority do you have to your objection? Is this love or are you merely upset that somebody else got a hand on your toy?”

“No, it’s not that.” Rand said, but his eyes dipped towards the ground. He felt conflicted, ashamed, and it was making his limbs tense and jerky. It was difficult to say which he felt more ashamed of, to his dismay; the fact he was letting another male mount him like a girl or that he treated the relationship as one would treat a plaything. “I mean, I like Ekkart. He’s-”

“Alluring like the torch is to the moth?” Lavni queried. His sudden poetic turn forced a smile out of Rand.

“No, nothing like that. He’s not like everything I grew up with. He speaks plainly, in a way I can understand. Ekkart isn’t fit or clean, but he’s still strong and he has, um,” Rand tried to use his paws to gesture, unsure how to convey his meaning. “A very big-”

“He has a massive dick?” Lavni suggested.

Rand’s face went slack a moment, giving the tapir an annoyed blink before simply saying. “He’s got a handsome belly.” He liked applying kind, eloquent words to Ekkart.

The artist’s eyes almost seemed taken aback, amused as ever by the mink. “My, my, what secrets you hold, little lordling.” Chuckling, the tapir reached down and clutched a handful of his bare belly. It fit into the meat of his hand and he gave the whole mound a shake. “You like your men big, eh?”

Rand immediately began to swivel away, biting his lower lip.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

Rand stumbled with his words. “I can’t bother with this-.”

The tapir sighed as he undid the button clasping his vest tightly to his pudgy frame. “Were you truly jealous that I had taken my fill of Ekkart? Or, perhaps, were you jealous that he had taken his fill of me?”

“Well-”

“Come here, little lordling. Quit denying what you know to be true like some terrified bunny. You are noble blooded, aren’t you? Be bold.”

Those last two words gave Rand pause. Boldness; a quality none of his other siblings had seemed to possess. They had fell into roles they’d been groomed for, naturally inclined towards. Rand had yet to discover one for himself and yet-

The young mink turned, tentatively, and saw the tapir’s girth splayed out over his lap as he loosened the satin belt he had tied around his wide waist. Rand’s eyes widened, letting his gaze quickly dart down to the slight bulge in the artist’s nethers that pushed out against the fabric. The gut was thick, broad, and, now that it was loosened from much of the restraining fabric, sagging with the weight of its bulk.

“Come here and touch me. Indulge.”

Hearing a command from Lavni was different than before. He had been fixated on whatever magic the tapir possessed, compelling him to obey. Now, however, he felt himself drawn forward towards the foreigner from the Southlands. He knelt beside the half naked man, his eyes studying the curves and rolls of fat that were splayed before him. The hot aroma of the tapir was no longer the sickly stench of exotic soaps, but a rustic stench of sweat and arousal. It was a simple characteristic of me that most would ignore or turn their nose up at. Rand fawned over such a thing, however. He brought a memory of Ekkart, shirtless, his biceps glistening in the sun, putting on a show for the Count’s son before lifting an arm and letting the mink tilt his nose towards the ripe pit.

Rand’s muzzle dipped, just hovering above the bare, flabby flesh. A low hum from Lavni startled him. “Skittish little thing, aren’t you?” The tapir said, his mouth curling into a devious grin. “Do not be ashamed, boy. Sate yourself.”

Rand met his gaze, hoping he’d see that dim, purple glow. Instead he forced himself to look away after bearing the tapir’s dominant gaze, leaning his neck down to the massive paunch splayed out before him. The mink bolstered his resolve, feeling his anxieties tear at him, trying to wrench him away from this act. Despite the whirling heartbeats in his chest, Rand let his face descend and meet the warm, doughy slab below. He held his breath, almost afraid to even breath, but he let out a gasp as he felt the painter’s strong hands land over his neck. He expected force, some insistence to continue, but instead he felt a comforting rub along his inner ear, Lavni thick fingers petting and stroking the mink’s head.

“Kiss it.” Lavni said in his low, dry tone. His grin widened as Rand’s lips puckered against the side of his belly and began to peck along the broad mound of pudge. It continued like this with Rand growing bolder as the clumsy act continued. The mustelid ran his face along the soft fuzz of the tapir’s profound gut, his kisses growing deeper and more eager until he was shoving his cheeks against the heavy stomach. His dainty hands also found purchase, stroking and turning themselves from knuckle to palm along the rotund bow of Lavni’s midsection.

Even with Ekkart, he hadn’t gotten so-the word escaped him.

Enamored.

Lavni didn’t speak and Rand barely lifted his face up from the tapir’s paunch. He dragged his tongue along the soft fat that sank at his fervent licks, following the hill up to its top where he found his teeth nibbling against the meaty breats, broad and tipped this thick nubs and a scent that drove his mind into a lustful haze.

“Stop.” The tapir said, but it had to be repeated a couple more times before the mink pried his mouth from the chubby frame. It was the first time Rand had seen such an honest smile out of the foreigner. “Let me help pace you, little one.”

“But-but can’t I continue?”

“Trust the older hand to turn the wheel. There is still much I must see and learn from you!”

“Like what? What more is there.” Rand asked impatiently.

Lavni’s smile widened underneath the plump trunk. “Undress for me.”", "pools_count": 0, "title": "A Gaze from the Southlands 2/??", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/png", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "396" }