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Lukas made sure not to bite his lower lip while he ran, focusing instead on the sensation of his footpaws bouncing across the oddly rubbery pavement, the still summer air turning to a gentle wind across his whiskers, shoulders, hips with his pace, the constant sizzling burn in the back of his throat and the rhythmic draw of breath swelling out his chest. In through the nose and out through the mouth, he remembered being told so many years, but couldn't remember who had told him or why. The otter swallowed again, clamped his mouth shut, felt the sticky saliva of burgeoning exhaustion slicken around the inside of his mouth, closed his eyes to refocus his thoughts again - and then the blast of the whistle brought him back to the present, though his legs still carried him another few steps forward.

"Alright, Section B," called the gruff voice of the coach off to the side, "that's enough. Y'all're good. Go take a break, get hydrated, sit down for a bit. Be back here in twenty. Section C? You're up..."

Panting, entire core tingling, Lukas hobbled off the running track and across the short, well-kept grass towards the bleachers standing around the field back here. Until this year it had been quite a while since he had done any running - not since he moved out of his mom's place back at the end of high school, since she had the treadmill down in the garage - and then various pressure from various friends led him to pick up the class for this semester, and while he wasn't exactly regretting it, he did miss having that extra free period.

Still, though, there were worse fates. As he steadied his breathing, drawing deep, holding it, and letting it fizzle out through barely-parted lips, he looked out across the rest of his classmates who had been designated within his section, and was at least reassured to see that he seemed to be faring better than most of them. Naturally there were a few for whom twenty minutes on the track was little more than a warmup, but he preferred to ignore those.

Most of the time, at least. Over by the "rehydration station" set up in the shade of the bleachers, one of those oversized jugs kept topped off with cold water from the nearest campus building by one of the volunteer team a familiar were-hyena stood with his back straight, throat pulsing as he downed one of the offered plastic cups, thin shirt plastered against the white fur of his chest through a layer of dribbling sweat, similarly formfitting shorts also hugging tight around his thighs and what hung quite heavily between them. Lukas slowed in his pace as he looked Kieran over, the hyena's tail swaying down near his legs; he finished his cup, shifted where he stood, went to get another, half-turned his body, and began sucking down that one as well, this change in angle now highlighting the shapes of his body against the shaded grass behind him.

Like one of those summer sausages at the store, he thought with a smirk, eyes focused at one spot in particular. Vacuum-packed into the tight plastic. But you can still see the wrinkles in the casing. Though Kieran wore his black compression shorts today, as the color looked the best on his arrangement of white underfur, charcoal coat, and black stripes, still certain sections of the fabric had darkened beneath the pooling of more sweat, growing out from within tight crevices and the little crannies in between thigh and the base of the bulging shape up top there, pitching forward, smoothing down underneath, lifting back up towards where the shorts held the were-hyena's sizeable balls up against his body.

It's a wonder he doesn't chafe, Lukas went on thinking - right as Kieran reached down and adjusted the fit of his shorts, sending a reverberating jiggle through everything there. Ah. That makes sense. Lukas himself was already well acquainted with the treasures that Kieran kept buried, and as the otter continued on his way over he found that he gaze was held there like iron to a magnet, remembering the times in the past where he had pressed his nose right up against the center of the spot where that sweat stain blossomed, the overlapping folds of loose, supple skin between the base of his sheath and the interior of his thigh.

Instead of the usual pert, short-furred pouch that others of his species family had, down there Kieran strayed more towards the equine side of things. Heavy, hanging sheath of leathery-velvet skin, folding and wrinkling in over itself towards the peak like a hefty, slack yet still taut bag, pulling down underneath the weight of the palm-sized balls knocking around underneath. At the tail end of their previous year at this university Lukas nearly failed some of his exams, as his study sessions alongside Kieran more often than not turned into the usual hands-on biology lessons that he always made jokes about. And the were-hyena used to wear regular gym shorts in the past, but...

"Oh!" Kieran's muzzle lit up when he saw his friend approaching. "Lukas! I was wondering where you went. I lost track of you after the fifth lap there. You did so well!"

"Thanks," the otter breathed, finally back on his initial rhythm. He wet his lips and forcibly drew his gaze to Kieran's muzzle, at the same time sliding a paw into his pocket to shift things around there. "As usual, you've got the stamina of a racehorse."

The hyena's face split in a grin and chuckle, and then a moment later, the implications of the statement hit him. His ears flicked back, his whiskers twitched, and beneath his dark fur the hints of a blush began to simmer out, warm and steady. "Ah," he said, reaching back to scratch behind his head - and forgetting that he still held a half-full cup of water in that paw, sending it splashing across the grass behind him, "well, yeah, y'know, it's - ah..."

"Yeah. I know." Lukas stood up on his tiptoes to pluck the now empty cup out of Kieran's larger paw, and turned to fill it with fresh, cool water. This gave him another opportunity to eyeball the were-hyena's damp, dank bulge, pressing out from inside his compression shorts, likely more visible than it had been when he used to wear the looser gym shorts, and everyone could see everything flopping and bouncing around like a pair of cartoon wrecking balls and - "So we're done for the day."

"Actually, uh, we're only done for now - coach wants us back in twenty minutes and-"

Rich, cool sweetness filled his maw and pulsed down the back of his throat, settling palpably into his belly and spreading that chill throughout his chest. Still drinking, Lukas reached out with his other paw, wrapped his fingers into the sweat-soaked fabric of Kieran's shirt, and tugged the much larger hyena towards him, knuckles pressing into short, soft fur underneath simmering with latent body heat.

"Twenty minutes is more than enough time to go and get cleaned up," the otter purred into the rim of the paper cup, "isn't it? What do you think?"

Green eyes danced across his muzzle, trying to put together his meaning. Then a moment later it hit the hyena, and Kieran blinked, gaped, swallowed, and then nodded. "Y-yeah. Sure. Lemme just..."

This close Lukas could smell him, the combination of dry, arid hyena spice mixed with the sour saltiness of dripping sweat, a faint tinge of deodorant, and then piercing through everything else the sharp, intoxicating savory rush that had so often clung to his upper lip and the back of his throat, ended up smeared underneath the base of his tail or across his muzzle and chest. He looked around, saw that none of the other students were paying attention to the two of them by the cooler, and tugged Kieran after him.

"Lukas," the were-hyena went on, struggling to keep up despite Lukas's much shorter legs, "I wanna pass by my locker on the way to the showers so I can-"

"We're not going by the showers. Too far away."

"But - how're we gonna get cleaned up? I'm so soaked in sweat I'm dripping like a damn faucet-"

"Really." Ahead loomed the brick building of the nearest gym, the four separate sections pushed off across to this end of the university; Lukas got a bit of workout just making the trip to and from his other classes. He let his paw slide over to Kieran's wrist, fingers incapable of closing completely around the girth. He smirked thinking about it; still there was the familiar sizzle down in his chest from the exertion of running, and if he stopped moving his legs he might be unable to start them back up again for a while, but now that the idea was firm in his mind there was nothing he could do to get it out.

"Yeah. Look, I'm - leaving, like, a snail trail-"

Around the far corner of the building there was a slender alleyway, stocked with old pallets, forgotten trash, a few broken lawn chairs, and miscellaneous other objects leftover from university events that were not suitable to store in places like the warehouses and sheds. Lukas led Kieran back into the alleyway a short distance, directed the hyena behind a few of those pallets leaning in against the wall at an angle, and then grimaced as he dropped down to his knees, ankles seeming to creak under the position.

He reached up, pushed Kieran's shirt up, and folded his fingers beneath the elastic waistband of those compression shorts, a little flutter shooting down his back upon feeling the damp warmth of the gathered sweat.

"Show me."

Ears flicked, tail swished, mouth fell open, and then closed again. "Oh. Oh," Kieran rumbled. "I get it. You're gonna clean me up."

"Mm." Lukas leaned forward, finally closing the distance to what had captured his attention since the end of the run. His nose easily sank into the stretched material of Kieran's shorts, filling the little space where it held up around his protruding sheath: the slick dampness there easily wiped off against his skin, smearing that sharp scent into place so that it shivered into his lungs each time he inhaled. And he inhaled deeply, drawing from that wedged, greasy crevice of overlapping wrinkles of sweaty skin underneath so that it felt like he had stuck his nose over a swamp, hot and humid and thick: he slid a paw down to the other side of Kieran's bulge, pressing the soft yet firm mass in against his muzzle, inviting the stirring heat to spread out across his face. "Mhmm."

"Ah - dude..." Kieran swallowed and leaned back against the wall while Lukas continued to nuzzle at him. The otter followed the line of his sheath up towards his waistband - sometimes the spare, velvety skin got pinned underneath there - and then down in front, angling his head side to side to follow the sleek curve of his girth inside, sweat-soaked fabric cool on the surface from the open air yet still dank and warm deep within. Losing the gym shorts had its downsides, as Lukas could recall no fewer than three separate occasions where he had done something much like this to the were-hyena, and had just rolled up one of the legs of his shorts until his hefty balls tumbled out across his muzzle, but he had to admit the compression shorts had their benefits as well. For example, the way he could easily follow the shifting shapes of his heft beneath the material, and how he could nuzzle and shift things around just by pressing his nose against it, breathing in the slightly different musk that had soaked through there... "Your breath is gonna stink."

When Lukas sighed out he almost expected to see his breath steam up in the summer air. Once more he shoveled his nose between Kieran's balls still hidden behind his shorts, digging up into the dense, thick heat inside. "It's a thankless job," he chuckled, "but someone's gotta do it, and-"

"Oh, gosh, have I never actually thanked you? I'm so sorry, it's just - I get so into it, and-"

"Instead of thanking me," and Lukas drew back, already panting softly. In a quick second and a half he tugged his own gym shorts forward and let his full arousal smack softly against his belly, then hang out in the open air. "How about you drop those dang pants?"

Kieran leaned forward to peer outside of the alleyway. Distantly the two could hear the ongoing noises of the gym class still in session, cheers from the benched students accompanied by the occasional blast of the coach's whistle. "Well..." The were-hyena hooked his thumbs down underneath the waistband of his shorts, tugged them forward, and then pulled slowly down. Lukas watched as the firm yet soft heft and meat of his sheath and sack lurched forward with the sudden freedom, leathery skin sticking against itself as though it were being peeled away from a pleather couch cushion on a hot summer day, and felt the blast of thick, hot air released from the tight confines there, dribbling over his muzzle and tickling at his whiskers. "Since you asked so nicely..."

And down they came.

Lukas could only stare for a moment, paws braced on his knees folded underneath him, eyes wide, nostrils flared, mouth hanging open. He swallowed, then did so again, the humidity of Kieran's no longer confined _equipment_filling the short few inches between itself and the otter's muzzle: as he adjusted to the different temperature of the open air his balls slid slowly down his legs, the damp velvety skin shifting to accommodate, darkened by oily sweat. Further up the folds of his sheath gradually unfurled as well, blunted head already starting to push out from inside underneath his classmate's attention and appreciation; Lukas wet his lips and leaned forward, sniffing at the dense air curling up and out from in between those overlapping wrinkles, nuzzling down so that he could touch his nose to the lip of Kieran's sheath and feel that greasy skin slide and smear around him.

As soon as he made that first touch, then, there was nothing else he wanted to do. His eyes flickered shut again and his mouth fell the rest of the way open, and then suddenly he had buried his face into warm, dank folds and wrinkles of supple, smooth skin. Lukas dug his nose down into Kieran's sheath behind his stirring shaft, pulling the sleek stretchiness up along his snout, drawing in a breath of tight, rich aroma, then letting it back out to steam across the already moistened skin there; he managed to wedge the fingers of one paw between Kieran's balls and the were-hyena's inner thigh, once more having to peel the skin away from dampened fur, and feeling it stick against his pads in much the same fashion.

Pressing himself deeper, Kieran's equine head and shaft pressing first out against his lips, then his cheek, and then along his chin as he grew steadily harder, Lukas sucked the sleek folds of his sheath up between his lips and rolled the loose skin back and forth across his tongue. Fingers spread, squeezed, massaged the hyena's sack up against his chin as well, coating his fur in the thicker scent of heady arousal; above him Kieran sighed and leaned back against the wall, one paw coming down to rest on his head, the other flattening against the bricks.

So much like the first time the two had messed around together, with Lukas urging the shy, uncertain Kieran on, back then coaxing him into the furthest stall in the upstairs bathroom of the geoscience building, pushing him up against the wall, fiddling with his belt, tugging everything down. Sure, the smaller otter had been surprised to see the full order of equine meat flopping out of the hyena's pants, but that didn't mean he had hesitated.

Throat sticky with the gathered slime of scent and sweat, Lukas opened his eyes again, turned his head to mouth against the side of Kieran's cock, and nuzzles further in towards the depths of his sheath, the other male's medial ring just now unfolding from within. Further down here the sweat, the gathered musk, had taken on a bit of a drier touch, less a dribbling, dripping wetness and instead more of a layer, a coating of tacky warmth, slimy yet sticky, causing skin to stick to skin and then unroll from itself, peeling slowly apart the further the otter pressed his nose and tongue. Savory salt washed in through his mouth; he swallowed again, closed his lips along the side of Kieran's shaft so heavy that it drooped down towards the end underneath its own weight.

Further down within the depths of unfolding skin sticking to itself with so much maintained body heat, the hyena's musk shifted again, pressing towards slightly richer, somewhat deeper, a little bit acrid. _Like passing within a few aisles of the seafood section at the Mexican grocery..._the otter thought with a smirk, then shuddered as he drew even deeper of that scent, sharp enough that he could feel it simmering into the back of his throat and down within his lungs. Again and again he throbbed between his own legs, desperately aroused yet knowing at the same time that almost any touch would certainly send him over the edge.

So instead he focused on Kieran, the rest of the class period completely forgotten. Still Lukas could hear the distant sound of their classmates, but all he paid attention to was the hyena's tense panting and little moans, and the shifting of fur on clothing. When he peeled himself away from his classmate's sheath, the usual strands of thick drool and mixed sweat hung down in the air, jiggled, and broke against his chin, only for him to slurp them right back up as he scooped his tongue underneath Kieran's balls, dragging across the salt and delicious trickling heat.

Soft and heavy, supple and full, his tongue scooped in between the hanging weights, drew the skin up to fold over itself against his lips, then curled forward to let these balls flop back down, jiggling against themselves as Kieran's inner thighs. One paw kept the were-hyena's equine shaft pressed against the side of his face while the other finally reached down between his own legs, thumbpad running across his head, smearing the thick coating of oozed pre around there; Lukas took in a breath through flared nostrils, body trembling with burgeoning arousal and his approaching peak, though he had barely touched himself. He could feel it in Kieran as well, in the way that the hyena's balls began to tug steadily up towards his body, how his thick shaft pulsed from the base, how the still greasy skin of his sheath continued to pull outwards, smoothing out, glistening in the sunlight slanting down between the buildings overhead.

Lukas pursed his lips against the were-hyena's sack and suckled, gently at first and then swirling his tongue around, pulling a little stronger, a little more urgently. He angled his body to continue upwards along the sizeable equine length, deliberately smearing his fingerpads over slick, slightly slimy skin, cupping his palm beneath the blunted head to catch the little dribbling squirts of thick, juicy pre, turning up to squeeze around the end there, hook his fingers around the rim, and rub, rub, rub. Immediately Kieran's body responded to this new motion - "here's how you get me off nice and quick," he had demonstrated back in his dorm room once - and the otter tilted his head, dropped his jaw, and finally managed to pull one of those balls into his mouth, the firm weight pressing down on his tongue.

He suckled and swallowed around it, nose pushing against the base of Kieran's sheath, tickling with sweat-soaked pubic fur. Each breath sizzled with that delicious, spicy sweetness; once again he swallowed, then scooped his tongue around the weight filling his maw, trying to pull up against his lips from the hyena's approaching peak. Kieran had now lifted both paws up above his head, his sharp fangs gritted, his eyes squeezed shut: his panting breaths began to puff out quicker, louder, heavier, exhalations bringing with them little grunting moans, his hips thrusting forward to bury the otter's nose between his legs again and again, the rest of his sack bouncing against the waistband of his shorts and useless underwear stretched halfway down his thighs.

"Lukas-" he grunted, "I'm-"

So the otter leaned back, keeping his lips pursed yet relaxed, so that the mass could pull free from his mouth once more, though he kept the supple, soft skin suckled within his mouth for a moment longer. Then he actually had to shift and scoot backwards to get into the proper position, angling Kieran's pulsing, twitching shaft towards his muzzle, flicking his tongue up along the river of slick, dripping pre, and then finally pressing his lips against the blunted end just now starting to flare forward. Certainly he knew from experience that he couldn't fit Kieran's full flare within his mouth, so instead he just held his mouth right there at the end, lips closed around the indented divot at the end, tongue poking forward at the frequent squirts already filling his mouth; both paws worked along the impressive length, supple skin bunching up against his fingers, continuing to stain and smear across his fur where he had missed his cleaning. One at the base of the ring, the other pushing up towards his head, thumb massaging the underside, side of his forefinger pressing up against the flare as it twitched, and grew, and grew, and grew, and-

"Ah - hah, it's - God-"

Kieran gasped, bucked, and thrust forward, and almost before Lukas could prepare himself he felt his throat sting with a sudden forceful blast of thick, hot stickiness, swelling out his cheeks from the sheer volume in that first and second spurt. He struggled to swallow, felt the were-hyena's load coat the entire inside of his mouth and throat, swallowed again at the beginning of the third spurt, felt his cheeks balloon out again with the fourth, and then finally had to draw back and let the remaining few arc over his back and shoulder. His ears flicked backwards with the meaty slaps of liquid ropes splattering against the far wall of the alley and the concrete ground underneath him; his belly sloshed with the dense, musky heat, dribbling from his lips, coating his chin, dripping somehow from both of his paws.

That worked out, though. Still feeling his classmate's shaft pulsing, oozing as he draped it over his shoulder and down his back, likely ruining the shirt he wore today - that might be a bit of a problem - Lukas returned one of his smeared, sticky paws to his own cock and pumped at himself, Kieran's warmth spreading easily over smooth, soft skin. Bathed in the sharp, heady scent of hyena and horse, head swimming from the richness that filled his mouth and belly, it took the otter a matter of seconds to push himself to his own peak. The force of his pleasure brought him curling forward, nose once more squishing into the soft-firm skin at the base of Kieran's still twitching sheath, mouth open, breath steaming out against sweat- and saliva-soaked balls as Lukas gasped, moaned out, jerked, and spurted his own finish out against the brick wall behind the hyena, his pleasure much less voluminous but doubtless equally intense.

The world seemed to swirl around him for a few moments afterwards, muzzle buried in dense pubic fur, something hot, slick, and sticky dripping down his chin, sweat or drool or pre or cum or whatever else. It was another blast of the coach's whistle around the corner and down in the field that brought both of them back to the present, Lukas straightening up - then shivering as another wave of pleasure pulsed through him - and Kieran thumping his head back against the wall.

Lukas swallowed again, cleared his throat, swallowed again, and then turned his head to scoop his nose up underneath the hyena's slowly softening shaft, eyeing the way the skin of his sheath pulled and wrinkled as it folded back in along itself.

"So," he purred, "what's my time, coach?"

It took the other male a moment. Green eyes flashed open, looked down at him, looked away, returned to his muzzle, and then Kieran seemed to get it. "Oh. Uh." He reached down, patted at his waist, reached down further, fished around in the folds of his shorts for his phone, and pulled it out. "Uh. Seven minutes? I think?"

"Sick. New record." As Kieran continued to soften Lukas lifted a paw underneath his shaft and continued lapping at him.

Above him the hyena grimaced and twitched. "You know, you - ah- didn't really... clean me up. In fact you kinda, just... made an even bigger mess..."

"Well, then." The otter tried to wipe at his face, but ended up just smearing the mess further into his fur. "Guess I'll just have to keep on trying, huh?"