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The dragon shoved his hands a little deeper into his jacket as he walked, keeping his head down so that the puffs of heat from his breath radiated right back down across himself. With the ongoing change of the seasons he had had to dig steadily thicker clothing out from his closet, now going around town at this time of night in no fewer than three layers and still feeling the bite of the chill through to his scales. At least the little tufts of fur he bore had started to thicken somewhat, too; he nestled his head further down into the mane draping down over his shoulders, gaze focused forward along the path towards home through the thin crisp of snow coating the ground.

On he went, so driven in his path that at first he didn't notice the new arrangement of lights off to the side, where normally there stood nothing but another open field like all the others around here. Iri continued on his way, leaning forward against the gentle yet still icy breeze - and then paused, blinked, and took the chance to look over his shoulder. At least this meant the wind was no longer in his face, and as he blinked the stinging tears out of his eyes his vision came back into focus to show to him that the season had brought with it what looked like a new farm.

Or... he squinted in the darkness, footpaws taking him closer to the new building. Barely visible in the dim evening light, painted across a sheet of wood held above the door, Petting Zoo, with an arrow pointing straight down. Nobody was in attendance. Iri looked around the field, eyeballed the nearby buildings and RVs for any sign of life or attention, and strode towards his new goal. Snow crunched softly as he went, but a small shift in his stance and balance reduced this to little more than a whisper; this _was_something he had done before, after all.

Just, not here. This was new. The ground outside the entrance showed evidence of somewhat recent traversal, before the snow had started falling: another good sign. Without a second thought Iri shouldered the simple rope draped in front of the entrance, one of those thick, faux-velvet streamers connecting to adjacent poles via a carabiner loop, and dove into the simple barn.

More like a shed, really. Embarrassing, a little infuriating for the sake of the animals - and they were here; Iri could smell them on the air, as well as feel that distinct, dank heat that they tended to give off, at once oppressive yet intoxicating - but certainly it paid. He blinked in the advanced darkness of the interior, the only lights being precisely none of them, save whatever starlight happened to filter down through the gathered clouds outside, but before long he could see enough to make his way around the small space and into one of the stalls.

Already his heart thumped in his chest: he was not alone. That was part of what drew him into here, hopping over the low gate separating the stall from the rest of the stable. A gentle pattering across hay-covered ground shifted beside him, soon followed by a soft huff from what was definitely an animal, so close that he could reach out and touch it. Still the darkness swirled around him, but he could see that it was some kind of slim, skinny horse, or - what else would a winter petting zoo have? he thought, before the answer nudged him in the shoulder with something that felt like a tree branch coated in thin felt.

Reindeer. He reached out, ran his hands along the extended antlers, felt the deer's head nudging curiously up into him from underneath, the little puffs of breath, the smooth brush of her tongue, the fearless confidence of an animal raised for show. Certainly female, too: despite what fairy tales and folk rhymes implied, only female reindeer retained their antlers in winter.

And this one already showed an interest in him, her wet nose pushing up into the space between the folds of his jacket, inhalations tugging across his fur and scales and then blasting back out in hot, humid bursts. The dragon giggled softly with the sensation, looked around the barn one more time, and then swiftly busied himself in stripping down, nudging the reindeer's head aside - and again - and again - so that he wouldn't catch her in the zipper.

Immediately the chill fingers of winter evening pushed their way around his body, seeping straight through his shirt and thermal layer underneath, but still Iri hoisted the fabric there up as well, and shivered instead from the sensation of the reindeer nosing against his belly. Already interest and arousal stirred through him, urged on further from her clear interest and curiosity: in another second, holding his jacket to the side with his arms against his body, the dragon undid his belt, opened his pants fly, and tugged these along with his long underwear and regular underwear down-

-and then melted into himself when the reindeer touched her wet nose to the point of his genital slit, her breath wafting warmly across the sensitive lips there. She sniffed deeper, following the naturally slick parting through supple scales, alright somewhat slick, slippery inside. He couldn't help but kick a footpaw at the surprisingly warm ground when her tongue flicked out, then, first brushing across his front and then hooking inside, then diving deeper as she nudged further down.

For those few moments Iri lost himself in the swell of sensations, arousal trembling out from inside, pleasure and delight simmering first inside and then, steadily, outside of his slit. So many times before had he imagined something like this, especially around the holiday season: a reindeer doe, attentive and dedicated, enjoying him as much as he did her... so when he caught himself grinding forward against her snout, her surprisingly deft tongue curling out around his growing shaft, he shoved his pants a little further down his legs and hobbled around to the animal's other side.

She looked up at him as he went, angular head swinging to follow. Accustomed to frivolous, excitable touch, she simply let - and also welcomed- him in his explorations of her backside once Iri settled into position. There was barely enough tail for him to grab or hold, the little cotton-ball puff flicking up at the slightest touch to show her wrinkled, stained pucker underneath, reflexively twitching in against itself, glistening with natural slimy wetness in the dim light coming in through a window high up in the stall wall.

His thumbpad stuck to her tailhole when he ran it across, flecks and bits rubbing off on his skin, grease smearing over. The dragon couldn't resist leaning in and sniffing at the hot, humid air wafting from the reindeer's bared backside, the strange, new aroma tickling his nostrils and poking at his throat: vaguely nutty, a little bit dry, the usual mix of foul, acrid bittersweetness, less like a barnyard and more like the rich, wet loam of open forest. Keeping her little tail held up with one hand, he reached down and began stroking himself with the other, already pursing his lips forward to meet that tailhole in a gentle, inquisitive kiss, which quickly turned hungry.

Already Iri lapped his tongue across the wrinkled skin, gladly poking around in the folds and crevices, circling around the slimy, tacky center, feeling her twitch and clench and tighten in response. Part of him wondered if she was already used to this kind of touch, too, for the way she splayed her hindlegs and pressed back against him, inviting the dragon's investigative pleasure; he nuzzled a little bit further down, nose pressing up into the peachfuzz-soft section of skin docked along the underside of her tail. Soft, supple flesh folded in towards the slit-like protrusion of her sex just underneath, smooth and soft within short fur and sweet warmth.

Down there she was tight, walls of muscle and meat squeezing in around Iri's tongue as he tried to press himself in, saliva squishing along the natural interior slickness of her body. Savory saltiness flooded across his mouth as he discovered her taste there, each lick allowing him to slurp a little bit deeper, a little bit easier, while his nose now sucked softly into the saliva-slickened pucker of her tailhole above; eyes half-lidded, other hand working rhythmically at himself, his focus remained right there, though, and within another few seconds he nestled himself right back beneath her tail again, lips pursed around wrinkled skin and suckling gently.

Here he found much easier access, the folds of skin and muscle relaxing easily for him, the wet, slippery warmth of her lower bowels mushing out around his tongue and dripping their thick slime across his jaw. Well-used, and used often, he thought, eyes fluttering shut in delight: the rich, sharp musk of the reindeer's feral presence, wild animal and open woodland and dried hay and wet soil, filled his maw just as strongly as it did his nose, until every time he swallowed he felt it sizzle there at the back of his throat.

Iri turned himself and pressed all of his weight forward against the beast's backside, shoulders bumping against her hindlegs, head tilting back, chin nudging in against her as he continued to work his jaw. Hungry slurps slopped out into the otherwise still air of the barn, drool and juices already trickling down along the fur of Iri's cheeks; the more he lapped and sucked and swallowed around her, the more her presence in his mouth, throat, and lungs strengthened, until he thought he might have to stop to get a breath of fresh air.

But, of course, he didn't. Balanced precariously on his footpaws, juddering forward and back with the quick, fervent motion of his hand across throbbing, eager arousal, he drew back for a moment, pushed his nose into the tongue-stretched, saliva-moistened center of her pucker, and for a moment felt the interior meat of her bowels flex out against him, squelching and slurping from deep inside. Hot, dank air wafted across his snout and dribbled down his cheeks like the same sticky slime that coated his mouth; he held himself there, wiped a finger across that sludge, and then ran it back and forth along the line of her sex, poking around for the entrance - and finally finding it, her firm, tight muscles squeezing around him.

That's right, he thought, or some part of him did, _reindeer bucks have those skinny little needle dicks, right?_Conscious awareness felt like it was a hundred miles away, far beyond the reaches of the much more important focus here in front of him, squishing and mashing against his nose, his lips, his tongue, dumping out little flecks of bittersweet sourness and quick pattering squirts of frothy discolored mucus against him. The doe squeezed around each knuckle of his finger as he pulled it back out, stopping his progress along the way. Still the first thing he did after pulling free, and after swirling his tongue around succulent pink meat and sucking at the juices from inside, was bury that finger in his mouth, suck off all of her scent and warmth, and then return that hand to his length to continue stroking.

In the midst of the slurping and suckling and panting and breathless moaning, the dragon's ears flicked back towards what sounded like a door swinging shut - soon followed by what was definitely two voices conversing. Startled, he paused in his attention, cock dripping warm pre across his still-cold fingers, but the tones and what words he could pick out showed that the owners were unaware of his presence, and he was _so close_anyway. So he buried his muzzle beneath the reindeer's tail once more - the beast made a little noise and pressed back against him - and kept himself there, entire body shaking with his vigorous strokes, breath tainted with rich, delicious stink.

When his peak hit him he had to turn and bury his mouth and nose in the depths of wet meat again, though certainly neither of them minded. Fervent, muffled moans shivered out into the reindeer's haunches, and Iri's body jerked - and bucked - and jerked again, the dragon trying to aim himself off between her legs as thick spurts jetted out across the hay-covered floor of the barn.

Footsteps approached, crunching along the snow outside. Heart pounding, breath high and heavy, Iri glanced back over his shoulder, tottered to his feet, and just barely managed to throw himself over the low gate and step out the back door. For a moment he leaned back against the wall trying to catch his breath, dripping shaft steaming in the still winter air; then slowly, carefully, he trudged off on his way again, struggling to zip everything back up as he went.

Reindeer petting zoo in the holiday season likely meant she would be there for the rest of the weekend.