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Leyo sat back and thumbed through his payment for the day: twenty, thirty, forty, fifty... honestly, he'd been a little iffy about taking today's job in the first place, but now that he had the pay in his hands it all seemed worth it. Really, though, it always did in the end, for someone who enjoyed his jobs as much as he did: one of the best beast-wranglers this side of the mountains. Something like that demanded near constant practice and honing, as he knew from experience that messing up would often result in throwing out more than just the job's pay and his own dignity.

So when his employer had come to him about this one, he approached it with sensible caution. Target was a Lynel, one of the fearsome man-beasts from up along the crags of the mountains; Leyo knew them to be very large, very dangerous, and very angry all the time at pretty much anyone who got too close, and thus steered clear of their territory whenever his work brought him near. Ninety, one-ten, one-twenty... the pay certainly caught his eye, though, and his employer had had the good grace to point towards a local otter who apparently had some knowledge and experience with the beasts.

One-eighty, one-ninety... just what his employer wanted him to do with a Lynel, male, prime of age and freshly broken (with sweat still beaded on his forehead, it said), Leyo didn't know. And what knowledge that otter had on them? Well - he had some idea, seeing how the lutrine had had him go about about the whole thing. Craziest part was, it had actually worked.

~ ~ ~

"You want to what?"

Quiet crunching of dry grasses beneath their feet, warm early-afternoon wind in their fur... the otter, Lukas, seemed to be fairly accustomed to the climate here, or at least the work he'd proposed they do.

"Work" being taken fairly loosely, of course. That was why Leyo still looked at him as if he were insane: it all seemed absurd to him.

But still Lukas just nodded, licked his lips, and gave him that same bright grin, blue eyes reflecting the light of the sun and sky filtering down through today's puffy clouds. He had a kind of... youthful charisma to him, if anything. "Trust me. I've done it before. I've-"

"-Done it before?"

"What? Only way to get better at something is to do it, right?" The otter took a wide step over a pale stone protruding up from between the grasses. Leyo himself was fairly new to this area, and after arriving just a few days ago he already knew he hadn't brought along the right clothing: sun beating down on him between the clouds, warm air tickling at his skin and fur... all of that would just make the job even more exhausting than it already was. "You're not the first person to come around asking to tame a Lynel."

"You didn't mention that part."

"No..." Lukas pointed both fingers at him, close to the simian's chest. "You're just the first to want to ride one. And you're calling me crazy."

Broken but not battered, the employer had specified. Leyo made sure to bring the copy of the contract along with him, handwritten on that weird kind of coarse-threaded paper they had here. Just do your thing and we'll be golden. The Lynels are generally more intelligent than your standard beast, but the same could be said about the average otter: you just have to know how to treat them, I've heard, and that'll get them entirely under your control. I want this one to know his place as submissive, I want him obedient. They're dangerous otherwise. Speaking of otters, there's one I'd like to refer you to... blah blah blah.

Hadn't been hard finding Lukas. He's the one with the body markings. Likes wearing as little clothing as he can, so he can show much as much of those tattoos as possible. Can't miss him. And he'd been right about that. Those blue lines blended in with the background sky before these clouds started to roll in, but set him noticeably apart from the yellow-browns and dry greens of the grasses.

And then he'd raised an arm in greeting and spread his muzzle in a wide smile. The otter was either in a good mood or just really excited about what they were going to do today.

That same arm came out across Leyo's chest and stopped him in his tracks, pushing a little huff of breath out of his nose at the suddenness of it. First the simian looked over at Lukas in confusion, and then looked forward again... and then, followed the otter's example of crouching down behind a large boulder that their path had brought them to. Out there beneath the spotty shade of one of the savanna trees, sprawled out near the charred remains of a fireplace, snoozed what looked to be a creature halfway between a horse and a lion.

Leyo didn't believe it at first. His hand fell to his side, instinctively feeling for his preferred tools: crop, lasso, spare rope, a few other things in case things didn't go well... though, looking at the size of the Lynel, even these wouldn't do much good. Still probably fifteen yards away and he'd never before been closer.

"What's it doing so close to civilization? We just left town not twenty minutes ago."

"I don't know, but maybe that's why your employer wants us - well, you - to capture one." Lukas leaned in a little bit and squinted, the webbing between his fingers stretching out over the smooth surface of the rock. "This one's male. You were looking for that, right?"

"How can you tell?"

"Broader shoulders, fluffier mane, arms that look like they could tear that tree right out of the damn ground. And - well, I mean..."

A swish of that fluffy tail... and Leyo pinched his lips together and nodded. That brought into view the puffy ring of the beast's tailhole positioned right above the back of a full, heavy sack hanging down along the Lynel's hind leg beneath it, the thing's back end conveniently pointed their way to give them such a view. Another swish - and again it was obscured from view. Kind of. Hard to hide an endowment like that, glistening faintly with collected sweat beneath the heat of the sun.

Leyo kept his eyes there for a moment longer, then allowed his hand to drift around toward his front so he could readjust the fit of his pants. "So, then... how do you wanna go about doing this? I mean, I've got the rope here, we could get up close and tie its arms, and while it's figuring out what's going on, I can get onto it and do my thing... or - you can get up and head right over - what the hell are you doing-"

Lukas looked back over his shoulder, already a third ofthe distance to the sleeping Lynel. He kept his body close to the ground and footfalls as quiet as he could along the dry grass; his eyes met Leyo's, and he brought a finger to his lips. Quiet.

The plan still didn't make any sense to Leyo. Well - it made sense, sure, it just still seemed totally wild. Hey, this thing's crazy strong, right? Well, so am I, he'd said with a grin, until I get tired. So I say we get in nice and close, and get this thing physically exhausted so it can't resist... but the way he proposed they do it? It was a good thing Leyo was fairly open-minded.

And, admittedly, the idea did get a bit of a reaction out of him. Hell, just sitting back here watching the swaying of the beast's tail, and keeping his eyes on that sack and tailhole... looked like that was Lukas's target, too. The otter planned to get in close and - here was the crazy part - sexually exhaust the Lynel before either of them started their attempt to wrangle it down.

Not like they can reach down beneath to get themselves off, right? Arms too short. We gotta do it for 'em. Trust me, I've done it before. So forward, so confident. That had to have meant that he had a bit of experience being the center of attention in this kind of thing.

Still, though, Leyo couldn't help but grit his teeth and grip tight onto the rock, his heart beating in his chest at the nervousness of the whole thing. Lukas's pace had slowed further as he approached, the otter now almost crawling on all fours; lucky the Lynel was asleep, or else he might already have gotten what was coming to him. But, no: instead he made his way up to the beast's bare backside, cast another look back towards Leyo, showed him a grin again... and then lifted that tail with one paw and planted his face right against the firm ridged muscle of that tailhole. And the Lynel didn't even budge.

Not at first, at least. Lukas settled into a more comfortable position for himself, sprawling out across the grass with his weight bearing down on one elbow. That paw he kept against the Lynel's upper thigh, fingers grazing close to the edge of its slowly-pulsing sack, while he just continued to press his muzzle into that rump - chin churning with his licking, tongue digging its way deeper and deeper, lips pursed against the tight flesh.

Another throb in Leyo's pants, despite himself. Of course the longer the otter remained there, the more noticeable of a reaction his attention elicited in the beast, and Leyo's heatbeat hopped up in nervousness once more. This is it, he thought, watching the horse-lion stir awake, raise its upper body, lift its head... I've set out with a nymphomaniac freak, and I'm about to see him get killed.

What came next, though, he found that he had trouble believing even more than the just idea of the whole thing. And with good reason, too: Lukas momentarily fell back, a thick strand of saliva hanging between his lower lip and the Lynel's tailhole, twitching and clenching with the feeling of a tongue having just been inside it... and then the beast looked back, made eye contact with the otter, and just - and just raised its leg a little bit, allowing Lukas a better angle to get into that rear.

When he'd said that he'd done this before, did he mean with this individual in particular? The way that the otter dug his tongue and chin into that ring of flesh, squeezing and clenching back against his face while he worked; how he had one paw cupping that sizeable sack, rolling the hefty balls around against its other inner thigh, how he kept his other paw beneath the base of that tail to keep the brushy hairs out of his face... it all seemed too familiar, too comfortable.

Too something. Half-consciously, Leyo lowered his own hand back down to his groin, pressing at the slow-growing tightness beneath the fabric. They'd talked about their plan on the way out here, Lukas had given a very vague outline of what he was going to do, and now it was up to Leyo to watch for his cue to hop in.

But, part of him couldn't really wait. From here he could just barely see the resultant stirring in the Lynel's sheath, as plump and heavy as that sack hanging below it with the same kind of leathery skin, glistening with the sweat of the day and heated musk. A few times after riding in the past, Leyo'd unknowingly brought his hand to his lips with the film of sweat of whatever beast he'd just broken still over his fingers; it was a sharp, salty taste that stayed with him, no matter how long it'd been. So he could only imagine what it was like for Lukas right there, now with his lips squeezing on the upper rim of that ring of muscle. The pressure, the pulling, the slight stretching... within that outer black-leather surface, the sun glistened off moist reddish-pink interior flesh.

Then - paw lifted from that thigh, waved back towards Leyo, beckoned him forward. Right as the simian prepared to hop over the rock and join him, his nervousness returned, and he hesitated... but the now-uncomfortable twitching and throbbing in his pants convinced him. Once more the Lynel lifted its head and looked back at him, sharp gemstone eyes appraising him up and down; Leyo held up both hands in defense, painfully aware of the riding tools hanging from his belt, and slowed down. The thing didn't hop up or reach for its weapon resting beside the dead fire, though, and instead just gave another hot huff through its nose as he approached.

He knelt down beside the otter, silently thankful for this closer vantage: Lukas had just continued to dig his muzzle against that rump, both paws now worked up along the muscled ridge with his thumbs pressed into that hot flesh, spreading it open. From here Leyo could also very clearly see the Lynel grinding its hips back against that muzzle, as well as the rhythmic tensing and throbbing, lifting of its balls in its sack, slow lengthening of that thick equine cock. About as wide around as Leyo's arm...

Without removing his muzzle from beneath that tail, Lukas made his direction clear in a few motions from one paw: Leyo was to focus on just that, on the hefty shaft growing out of that sheath. Down here on his knees, that only scents tickling at his nose belonged to the familiar cloying weight of saliva, the smell of warm dry grass, and then - something heavier, richer, spicier, something that strengthened further as he got back up and started his way around to the Lynel's underside...

...something that hit his nose in force with another of the beast's throbs, lifting that shaft a few inches from its belly and then slapping it back down. Leyo thrust one of his hands out beneath it right at the last second, though, and caught that heavy length in his palm, felt the weight and sweaty stickiness, the heat that magnified its scent... and of course he got right to work, other hand position along the leathery wrinkles near the lip of the sheath while his first stroked and squeezed along the blunted tip, feeling for the natural reactions to Lukas's tongue prodding into that rump.

For a while, he couldn't really believe he was doing this. Certainly wasn't in the job description, he thought, but... but still he kept his hand cupped on that tip, still he rubbed along the base of that cock and the end of that sheath, rolling the supple skin forward and back, stretching it smooth over sweat and flesh. If anything, doing this gave him a pretty good measure of the power contained within this beast's body: he could feel that quite clearly in the force of those thrusts and throbs.

Lukas sure was enjoying himself: the otter had lifted himself up a little bit further so he could rest his weight on the back of the Lynel's thigh, and now had his other paw settled between his own legs with fingers pressing into the fabric and the obvious tent beneath. After a while, Leyo somewhat reluctantly gave into it, too: he squeezed his paw more firmly on that blunted tip; he brought his other arm around so that each time the Lynel thrust, it did so directly towards his face; he willingly and intentionally grinded his nose and lips up along the underside of that shaft, feeling the pull of the pleasure, the slickness of the sweat, the heat of the thing's body and cock, and enjoying it all.

In a way, this was much the same as riding this creature to exhaustion. He got to feel all the tensing of the muscles, could see the action and tension all throughout its body, could hear the heavy grunts and huffs of breath, the growing panting, the growling, the kicking of those hind legs across the dry grasses. Leyo swallowed and then settled his lips right against the tip of that cock, tongue working its way up around the blunted end, there more of a pipe than a slit. Slick, sticky pre had already started to ooze out of there, rolling down into the back of his throat and strengthening the salt and spice in his nose.

Intoxicating, was all he could think. Out of the corner of his mostly-closed eyes, he caught sight of Lukas looking back up at him - right before digging back into that rump, now with deep, long licks of his tongue up along the surface of that tense muscle, starting down halfway towards the bottom of the Lynel's sack and finishing right at the base of its tail. Again and again he licked, swallowing down that sweat and musk right after; and Leyo mimicked those actions along the underside of this cock repeatedly twitching and pressing against his chin and lips, the head too wide for him to do more than this.

The Lynel didn't seem to mind, though. In fact, by now Leyo couldn't tell whether its thrusts were in response to his focus along its length, to Lukas now suckling against that inner flesh, or to both, but - there was no denying these thrusts had picked up in pace and force. Leyo let out his own hot panting against the underside of that head, eyes then fixed on the Lynel's chest and throat and face: he just loved seeing the burgeoning tension and exhaustion, the tightening muscles, the gritted teeth, the abandonment of any kind of caution or hesitation.

Must have seemed equally absurd to this beast, though: just having a nice nap, and then wake up to the inimitable feeling of a muzzle shoved up underneath its tail, lips pressed against its tailhole in a deep, wet kiss, to then be followed by a pair of hands squeezing and pressing all along its underside, in its sheath, on its cock, against its head cupped in just the right place to make it buck and snort and pant and-

Well. Turned out that having that shaft directed right towards his face wasn't that great of an idea. The first burst of hot, sticky cum splashed straight across his nose and mouth, a good amount of the fluid painting his tongue and roof of his mouth: bitter-salty, cloying distant sweetness, that same sort of spiciness he picked up on the Lynel's musk, which itself had sharpened as it had approached orgasm. Each spurt pulsed powerfully through the underside of the length and in Leyo's hands, that seed emptying with enough force that he could actually hear it - before it impacted his neck, and his chest, and his own hard cock still twitching beneath his pants, that was. Not just the liquid bursts, but the Lynel's rasping growls as well, the heavy, ragged grunts that came with each spurt, every one just a little bit weaker than the last... until that slick, sticky liquid, milky-white and glistening, just kind of poured and oozed over Leyo's hands, rolling down in fat, hot globs.

That done, both he and the Lynel needed a moment to cool down and gather their breath and thoughts, so Leyo looked back towards the beast's backside for his next cue from Lukas - but the otter was nowhere to be seen there, a noticeable wet spot of saliva clinging to the short-haired hide of the Lynel's rump around its puckered (and rhythmically clenching) tailhole.

That didn't seem right. Oh, if he ran off to leave him with this Lynel...

But, then, a quiet hissing from the other side of the beast. Leyo looked over to see Lukas half-crouched near the front of its body, holding his paws out in front of him.

"Rope!" he whispered, and flicked his tongue over his lips. He looked to be out of breath, too, funny enough; the way he moved his jaw back and forth made it look like he was either trying to eat something really chewy, or that he just was just sore there. One of these wouldn't come as a surprise.

Leyo frowned. "What?" Beside him, the Lynel started to stir, pulling its legs up towards its underside: he watched as that shaft slowly started to slip back into its sheath, the last of its load and pre oozing out into a thick puddle on the grass as it went. Even though he'd just received what had to have been a gallon and a half of fresh cum across his face and chest, the beast's balls looked no less full and heavy than when they'd started on it. "Why?"

Lukas took a half-step back in response to a sharper puff of air from the Lynel. Then, he waved his- "Arms!"

It took Leyo a moment, but then he remembered: oh, yeah. There were here to capture this thing, not drain its balls. Not just that, at least. Another look over at the Lynel's upper body let him know that it was starting to catch on to that same fact, so the simian leapt to his feet, swayed briefly with the weight of the beast's cum soaking into his clothing and fur, grappled at his belt for one of the spare ropes, just barely managed to toss it over to Lukas... and then realized he had no idea how he was going to get up onto this thing. It started to get up to its feet, stretched out its tense muscles, pawed at the ground... and before he could put a second thought into it, Leyo had thrown his arms as far over that equine back as he could and tried to pull himself up.

For one, this still-wet seed dripping from his body didn't help with his grip at all, and instead just caused him to smear it across the Lynel's hide and into its short hair; and two, the thing's hip came about even with his shoulders, so he had to really jump to get on it as well. Already it was kicking and snorting and roaring, muscles tensing back up once he'd gotten onto it: it looked like Lukas had succeeded in restraining its arms, rope drawn tight around its wrists in front of it, but the otter didn't look like he'd be able to hold on for long.

Some kind of violent tug-of-war, Lukas digging his heels into the grass and earth beneath him, his end of the rope wrapped around his own paws. Each toss of the Lynel's body resulting in him getting yanked to one side or another, though he held his own as best as he could. This definitely wouldn't be something that Leyo would have been able to do on his own.

"How long-" For a moment, Lukas's voice broke in a rather strong tug. He just barely reclaimed his balance before it happened again. "-will it take?"

Leyo finally got into place atop the beast, and squeezed his legs down along its sides. This felt a lot more comfortable: grain and grit of sinews and flesh beneath hide, the heat of exertion and exhaustion, the rasping breaths that he could feel fill out that chest... he leaned forward and grabbed his handfuls of the Lynel's mane, already heavy with sweat, and curled those around his hands much like Lukas had that rope.

Already he could tell he'd be sore tomorrow. Each buck, each kick of this beast beneath him vibrated up along the simian's waist and back, sharp bursts of energy in which he could feel both its frustration - really, though, he'd be annoyed too if someone woke him up just to get him off, and then try to tie him down - and its burgeoning exhaustion, more than just the thrumming tiredness from its orgasm. Soon after that peak, so soon after waking up... it hadn't had time to get back on its feet yet.

In a way. Another buck, and Leyo tumbled forward into that thick mane of hair: smelled like wild animal, salty sweat, dry grass. And, of course, fresh equine cum, still dripping from his chin and clinging to his lips. That taste, he wouldn't be able to escape from for a while. The Lynel swung its bound arms back and forth, trying its best to shake Lukas off so it could focus on the simian on its back; after a while, it succeeded - Lukas took the chance to stumble away and then fall back to his rump in the grass, chest heaving with his own exertion - but couldn't undo whatever knot the otter had put into that rope around its wrists, with just it tossing and straining its arms.

Felt like digging his fingers into hot, crisp grass, humid with slick morning dew. Leyo wrapped his hands as best he could around and into the tufts of that mane while the fast-tiring beast continued to buck and kick, to lurch and throw him around. The familiar back-and-forth, the near-sickening rocking, the intense stress he had to put into his arms and thighs to keep a grip on this huge beast beneath him... the simian had had plenty of experience riding and breaking similar creatures before. Without that, he would've been thrown off probably as soon as he'd gotten up.

Even with that experience, though, this was something else entirely. Beneath that sweat-slickened hide, muscles as tough and tight as wood when relaxed, as stiff and dense and stone when taut, bending and straining back and forth beneath his grip and his attempts at driving the thing, then faltering and twitching beneath the weight of exhaustion. Lukas's method was... sure as hell unique, and even after that - especially after that - Leyo couldn't help but feel some surprise (and worry) pulse in his fast-beating heart. Amazing that this monster could hold up this long, this strong, after something like that. It was coming to its end, but wasn't there quite yet.

Every time the Lynel swung him around, he tried to get a glimpse of where Lukas had managed to get to - all of this weight and muscle and anger bearing down on hoofed feet would not bode well for anyone caught beneath. He'd promised the otter some part of the payment for his help, but if it turned out he'd run off halfway through-

Suddenly, another unexpected twist from the Lynel beneath him, and Leyo had to double over again and grip into its mane. His forearms stung, his thighs throbbed with pain, his abs burned. The beast briefly lowered its head, mouth now hanging open with heavy, dry breaths rasping through sharp teeth, and there between those ears - Lukas had somehow managed to grab hold of the rope around the Lynel's wrists again, and now with this exhaustion creeping through its muscles like liquid lead, it couldn't put up enough of a fight to resist. With Lukas holding it forward and Leyo keeping himself back and low, legs wrapped as far as he could get around the large chest and stomach, keeping tight fistfuls of the Lynel's mane and tugging its head back against the ropes yanking its upper body forward...

For a while, Leyo honestly thought this mission would turn out to be a failure. He was at his limit himself, and Lukas looked long past his. Right as both of them were about to lose their grips, though, the Lynel let out another short series of low, breathy grunts, tried to pull in another breath... and then lurched to one side as one of its hind legs failed it, only for the other leg on that side to do the same. Leyo hardly managed to untwine his hands from the greasy mane before the beast fell over, and he ended up tumbling clumsily off and into the grass below, flattened by the same creature they'd just taken down.

Couldn't tell just whose panting that was, then: all three of them breathed heavily, and Leyo rolled over onto his back and watched as the sky above spun for a moment. He reached up, mouth open, swallowed drily, wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and his lips... and then jerked upright, sharp taste of beast sweat rolling back along his tongue. Somewhere off to his right, Lukas started laughing, and at first the simian thought it was in response to him. But when he looked over, though, the otter gave him a big thumbs-up and a bigger grin.

"We did it," he managed, chest heaving. "Or. I guess. You did most of it."

"Not over yet..." Leyo looked forward at the thing in front of him. It had fallen down with its legs facing towards the simian... which of course gave him another very good look at the same set of equipment he and the otter had focused on at the start of this, shaft settled back into his sheath and plump, heavy balls hanging loosely against its inner thigh. The leathery skin there now glistened with a sheen of sweat in the high sunlight... and Leyo could almost swear that he could smell that rich scent, humid and intoxicating. And that wasn't just because he'd accidentally wiped the Lynel's mane sweat against his face. "We still have to get this thing back.

Lukas, shocked, looked at it and then back to Leyo. "There's no way we're moving that."

"No..." One thing else that came with experience was that he now knew to make sure about the 'before' and 'after' parts of his contract. This otter was the before. As for the after... "We just need to keep it down until my employer gets here. Will you - run back to town, and let the innkeeper know? Also, uh, bring more rope..." Once more, he looked down at the Lynel. It wasn't unconscious; it had just lost its will to fight. That, and its muscles probably screamed at it like they never had before. What Leyo felt now, pulsing through his limbs, was just a ghost of that.

Of course, every time he looked down at it, though, he felt his eyes drawn to one area in particular. Maybe he'd be able to... convince it to stay down, if Lukas took too long.

~ ~ ~

Really, though, it was just luck that led things to go as well as they did, after the otter wobbled to his feet and took off towards the village. No incidents or scrapes between then and the time he came back, and not thirty more minutes passed before a carriage was sent, along with a team of stallions who looked as toned as the Lynel itself, to tie it down and bring it in.

Four hundred twenty, four hundred thirty, four hundred forty... Leyo licked his finger and thumb, still tasting of Lynel sweat, and slid that stack across towards the otter lounging next to him, legs resting atop the table and with no worry about his own visibility beneath that loincloth. He leaned forward, spread his webbed fingers, and took that stack up, sharp blue eyes giving a grateful sparkle. That would be Lukas's cut.

The otter lifted the money to his nose, and took a deep whiff of it. "I look forward to working with you again. Will you be in town much longer?"

"Likewise. And..." Leyo stretched his arms over his head. "I'll need about half a week - at least - before this ache goes away. And, who knows, in the meantime... maybe another Lynel contract will come up."

As for his own part of the money... well, it would take a while longer to count.