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Perry shifted one paw in his pocket and the other along the strap of the bag over his shoulder, the ice-cat trying to look as nonchalant as possible while he walked – and deliberately slowed his pace near the fence bordering the horse pasture. One ear kept perked towards the rural road at his side, he lifted his head again and again, casting quick yet small glanced out across the field: in the rising light of midmorning, the nighttime mist just now starting to fully burn off, he could see almost all the way across to the other side where the barn stood. Back and forth he ran his gaze, from fencepost to fencepost and across all of the grass in between, eyes flicking over the remaining evidence of the animals strewn throughout yet not seeing the sources themselves just yet.

He took in a breath, held it… sighed it back out, and after one more moment of deliberation, spun on his heel and walked right back towards the other edge of the property. This pasture waited on his walk home – or at least, that was what he claimed: in reality he had to go some twenty minutes out of his way to pass by, but always figured the detour was worth it – and as such he afforded, in most cases, a twice daily visit with the two lovely beasts who lived here. He could imagine them now standing back in the warm dimness of the barn, Finn with his lovely whitish pelt, tail swinging and dancing in any small current of air, and then the stouter, smaller Cooper nearby, huffy and moody but still unwilling to be on his own… Perry could imagine what it was like to be between the two stallions, just like last time when he had offered a paw to their owners to help out.

The warmth of the horse’s bodies drifting in across me from either side, the slight tickle of their manes and tails brushing against me _, that steady, grassy aroma that just fill__ s_ my nostrils and floods through the entirety of my system; the feeling of their pelts beneath my pawpads, living hide and leather thrumming with constant strength, cords and pads of muscle pulling taut, trembling with anticipation, shivering beneath my touch. The work away from the horses is one kind of hell, while the work alongside, next to, between, behind, underneath is a separate hell all its own… and before he could put a second thought or consideration into it, Perry had turned and started his way down the small gravel access road leading around the pasture towards the rear entrance of the barn.

Already his heart thumped in his chest. He strode with purpose, walking as though he belonged here, as though the owners had once again asked him to come help out; to anyone else driving by, he thought, ears flicking back, there’s nothing amiss. I’m supposed to be here. I’m expected. Nobody has to know otherwise. And…

And his thoughts trailed off yet again as he looked back over the field, hoping that he had been mistaken in his estimation. Still no sign of the horses themselves being out; in the time he had been visiting, both with and without the owners’ knowledge and blessing, Perry had picked out a few specific spots around the pasture that afforded him some private, quality time with the beasts shielded from the view of the road. He glanced from spot to spot, hoping each time that he would see Finn’s feathery mane or Cooper’s broad rump waiting there, pulse rising and then falling back off, reckless determination growing in him the closer he came.

They must be in the barn, the feline thought, gaze shifting again. He thought he caught a glimpse of a shifting shadow, cast at an angle across the dew-studded grass; his heart leapt again, expecting, wanting to see one of the horse’s backsides jutting thoughtlessly out from the open door of the barn. Such a familiar, inviting shape, rising in his mind as though it were right there: the smooth hump of the haunches rising up, the lines of muscle pitching inwards beneath the pelt, the base of the tail itself… the way it would lift and flick and swing, the brushy, feathery hair swaying out like a brush, the velvety leather skin underneath pulling in turn, tugging at the protruding rim of the full, meaty tailhole, looking so firm at a distance, but then squishing in at the slightest touch.

And then, he remembered, the more I touch it… he lifts his tail up, hikes it at the base in that, ‘keep going’ way. And I spread my fingers around it, and he tenses up and it gets firm and taut, but then starts to relax out again as if he’s saying to me, ‘pucker up’, and… God. Yeah. A quick glance over his shoulder back towards the road and then another around towards the rear of the barn, now within a stone’s throw from where he walked, showed Perry that he was likely on his own for at least a little while: nobody passed by on the road itself, and while the owners’ work truck was nowhere to be seen back here, their property itself slept behind a stand of trees all the way over beyond the opposite side of the pasture. I need to see them today. Right now. Maybe I… could…

Another glance back and forth, just in case, and then the ice-cat stepped off the gravel road and into the shallow drainage ditch separating the property itself from the road. Bits of the gravel crunched beneath his footpaws, and the thick grass and wet earth squelched softly with the evidence of the overnight humidity; he felt the gathered dew trickle across his fur as he crossed the short distance, and then in another few breaths grasped two nearby posts, braced one footpaw in between coils of barbed wire, hoisted himself up… lifted up further… and then tossed himself over to land comfortably on the other side. From there Perry again shifted his bag over his shoulder and bustled in towards this side of the barn, excitement and anxiety both mounting.

His ears perked as he approached, and then a moment later, he could actually hear it cutting through the sound of the grass across his footpaws, and the wind whispering through the trees nearby: the soft rattling of leather bindings hanging from their hooks against the interior barn wall, the steady creaking of old painted wood rubbing against itself beneath that breeze, and underneath it all, the scratchy, thumping rustle of hooves on hay, the quiet pulsing of powerful yet relaxed breaths, and of course the muted drag of treated leather tack, the distant jangling, clinking, tapping of buckles and studs and sealed rivets.

They’re here.

Even though he now knew this, Perry still held his breath on his way up to the barn. He rested a paw across the opened door, already able to smell the animals from here: the familiar aroma filled him with excitement and comfort wrapped around the tight, close-burning arousal, the desire, the urgency, the need always layered there underneath. A quick snort from further in the barn set his heart aflame all over again, and then he could just imagine it: Finn lifting his head and tossing his mane, the slight give in his bridle pulling across the smooth texture of his pelt and skin, the loose buckles tapping against one another, polished metal rings and nails clinking… Perry could recognize those sounds anywhere, and sure enough when he finally built up the courage and stepped forth into the dim warmth of the barn, the tall, broad stallion lifted his head and peered over at his visitor.

And immediately Finn’s body language shifted, his ears smoothly swiveling forward, his eyes grazing across the ice-cat, his tail relaxing and giving a few loose sways. That one moment seemed to both stretch on into eternity and pinch away far too quickly as Finn crossed the distance to him, paws coming up to slide across the beast’s broad, powerful shoulders, head lifting up to brush across his thick neck, nostrils flaring to draw in that same familiar, lovely, enticing scent.

“Hey, you,” he murmured, and nuzzled into Finn’s presence. The horse shifted where he stood, returning the nuzzle and pushing back down against him; his bridle rattled again, one of the buckles tapping against the strap of Perry’s bag over his shoulder. “Surprised to see me? I was just walking by, and saw that y’all were unattended, and figured… I could…”

When he opened his eyes he then saw Cooper’s familiar, stout frame as well, the slightly smaller, soil-brown stallion standing a short distance away. Where Finn received the feline with open warmth and appreciation, Cooper regarded him with a cool, steady gaze, less you are intruding in my space and more we both know you should not be here. Perry giggled softly, moved to slide his bag off his shoulders, and stepped over to him; the brown horse lifted his head up and out of the way to keep a sharp eye on the cat, and as such Perry satisfied himself – for now – with just reaching out and patting the other horse’s shoulder.

“Hello to you, too,” he said, amusement underlining his voice. Where Finn currently wore a simple bridle looped around his snout and head, Cooper had been decked out in a broader harness assembled from so many straps looped around his body, hooking around the middle of his chest and underneath his forelegs, wrapping up from underneath to hold snug around his broad, steady body; polished metal glimmered in the wan light that came in through the spaces in between the barn’s boards, and every time he shifted and stepped, those hanging straps, loosened buckles, protruding bits and rivets and shimmering studs clacked and clanked together again, a sweet musical cacophony underneath the smooth pulling of treated and dyed padded leather. “Don’t you worry, Coop, I won’t be too long. I just… want to…”

His attention trailed back over across the barn to where Finn stood, the horse’s hind end towards him, tail still swishing in smooth, relaxed contentment. Naturally Perry felt himself stuck to the hay-strewn floor of the barn there, hypnotized by the way each swish revealed the upper portion of the feral’s thick, plump tailhole; velvety leather skin sagged slightly down beneath its own weight, shimmering with the thin natural oils of the beast’s body, bouncing and jiggling just slightly as he tapped his shod hooves against the ground.

This stayed in the feline’s mind as he strode back over, one paw coming up to brush across Finn’s shoulder, the other dropping down to follow the lines of muscle along his hindleg. Reflexively the stallion leaned into his touch, ears perking and then relaxing again; Perry took a moment to just touch and feel him, sharing the space and the moment. He breathed in the horse’s scent from his shoulder, grass and leather and sweat and that high, sharp spice punching through everything, further fueling the flame stirring in his chest and his loins just the same – and another little rattle from the bridle hanging around Finn’s head quirked at the ice-cat’s ear.

“Okay,” he breathed, finally pulling himself back. “Okay. Yeah. I know. I brought you… something… I know that they treat you well, I’ve seen it, but – they could always treat you better, and…” He bent down to unzip his bag and rummage through it, with his eyes remaining fixed between the beast’s hindlegs as he did so. The dim shade of the barn sent sleek, smooth shadows down along the curves of Finn’s underbelly and haunches, and nestled deep within that thick, humid silhouette he could see the also familiar shape of the stallion’s hefty balls, full and heavy and dense, each one easily occupying the entirety of a cupped palm. He swallowed as he dug around in the depths of the bag, gaze trickling upwards just slightly over sleek, folded wrinkles of slightly greasy skin, bunching together to nestle around the hidden head of the horse’s cock… and then found what he was looking for, cleared his throat, and rose back to his full height. “Will you behave this time? I haven’t been bringing you two – snacks as often, since I know how you get…”

Brush in one paw and carrot in the other, once again Perry closed the distance towards Finn and started in at the horse’s pelt. It was important not to just free-feed him, as that could foster all kinds of various behavioral side-effects; the ice-cat ran the brush down along the beast’s sleek pelt, picking out the little bits of hay and burrs that had fallen from the trees overhead, and only offering a little bit of the carrot for when he allowed him to work at a trouble spot, or one that was hard to reach. Over near the base of his mane, down around the front of his chest and under his forelegs, up beneath the hanging straps of his bridle around his snout, leather and buckles tapping and clicking all over again, against the surface of the brush itself… and then of course back around the other side, following the sleek, streamlined patterns of Finn’s musculature along his broad chest, his smooth belly, the ridged contours of his haunches, then down along one hindleg…

...and as he moved around to his hind end, brush still pulling along the horse’s hindleg, once again Perry’s attention strayed. The scent rose up to waft around him, more of the same grass and spice and rich, warm musk, but still he could not help but lean in towards the base of the beast’s tail and take in a slow, steady inhalation right from there. Sweet, gentle warmth curled up around him, inviting, intoxicating; Perry briefly reached back to slip the remains of the carrot into his back pocket and then, one paw still guiding the brush, settled the other right up along the base of Finn’s tail. The horse gave a little twitch of surprise at the contact, but still hiked up at the base regardless; as always Perry’s heart leapt in his chest, and just like he had imagined when coming down the road earlier, he spread his fingers, came in closer… brushed them right across the protruding rim of the feral’s plump, soft tailhole.

This close he could watch the way the muscles of Finn’s rear flexed in response to the touch: his rim puckered up and lifted out, then relaxed; the sleek, leathery velvet skin around it tightened and lifted up; his tail continued to rise up at the base, slowly, deliberately, and then held there in the air as though waiting for more. And so Perry gave him exactly that, leaning in to brace his chest against the beast’s haunch; he brought his fingers in towards the center of Finn’s tailhole, pressed gently there, and then spread out to follow the overlapping wrinkles toward the edges, soaking in the thick, humid heat emanating out of him. Each touch, every little slice of contact, sent another sweet quiver and pulse through the feral’s rear so that he could see the rim puckering, the muscles tensing, the skin tightening, even though everything remained so soft, so supple, so… velvety.

Breath trickling out from between barely parted lips, Perry let his paw drift downwards from there. He lifted his thumb up underneath the lower rim of Finn’s tailhole and then continued, cupping the smooth, firm ridge leading down from underneath; that soft span of velvet gave way to a thicker, more malleable squish near the base of his sack, and then once again, balls that could each more than fill his cupped palm, dense, hefty, full.

“Jeez…” he breathed, and bumped his head against the horse’s side. Finn shifted a bit, halter jangling and clacking softly. “Hey, buddy, would mind if… I…”

The feline shifted his brush to his other paw, so he could reach this one down underneath the bulk of the horse’s belly. He ran his fingers along the smooth pelt as he went, feeling the heat thrumming underneath, the strength, the latent, resting power within all of these muscles; he had to bend over a little bit to reach, but even without looking he could still find what he sought. The end of Finn’s sheath practically poured across his fingers on that first touch, the loose, wrinkly folds of slightly greasy skin spreading, draping, drizzling where they just barely hid the slightly firmer weight just inside.

Perry slid up and around the top of the horse’s sheath, already able to feel it plumping, dropping down away from his body, hanging beneath its own mass. Again and again he rubbed his paw down around the front from there, cupping, squeezing, pulling the supple lip of skin forward and then letting it naturally roll back, until the blunted heat began to press out into his palm. Finn grunted and chuffed softly, once more tossing his head; his shod hooves tapped against the hay-strewn floor of the barn as though inviting his visitor to drop down to his knees-

-which, naturally he just could not resist doing. As soon as he did so the scent tingling through his nostrils changed, taking on a higher, thicker, greasier touch, as the feral’s shaft slowly dropped out of his sheath right here before him, beneath his attention. The brush fell to the side, forgotten; Perry scooted a little bit further beneath the horse’s body, everything outside of the barn suddenly forgotten, fingers searing with the wet heat of Finn’s growing length, the dank, dense folds of his sheath unfurling and stretching out, the hefty lumps of his balls hanging down in his sack, swinging from side to side as he adjusted his stance to more fully drop.

One paw remained right there at the lip of the horse’s sheath as it unfolded, skin stretching out and unlayering from within, and Perry smoothly drew the other out along the impressive length until his fingers rolled over the rim of Finn’s head. Immediately the horse flexed in response, the shockingly powerful pulse yanking him out of Perry’s grasp to smack against his belly, and then sagged back down again.

No matter how many times Perry found himself doing this, each one still felt the same as the very first. Heart pounding in his chest, breath catching in his throat, each inhalation steaming with the rich scent of equine arousal, he almost could not believe that he was actually doing this: he squeezed and touched and felt at the texture of Finn’s full length, soft and warm, silky, velvety, with a distinct, inimitable firmness at its core. The skin squished and slid easily with his stroking, bunching up across the beast’s medial ring, then releasing back towards where his sheath had unfolded across the base; mouth open, tasting his scent as strongly as he smelled it, Perry once again squished his paws up towards the rear of the head’s rim, squeezing all of that skin together and then letting it go. Another powerful throb lifted Finn’s length from his grasp, that rim swelling and pulsing outwards, the horse patting a hoof against the barn floor in enjoyment mixed with impatience. “I know, I know,” Perry murmured, leaning in at an angle so he could fit his head beneath the horse’s wide chest; “let me… just…”

And that soft warmth pressed against the flat of his tongue, the protruding nozzle of Finn’s urethra squishing into place, dripping out a single dribble of sticky, oily heat before he closed his lips against the blunted surface. For a moment the ice-cat just held himself there, suckling and swirling his tongue as he pumped Finn’s cock towards his muzzle; bit by bit he parted his jaws, lips sleeving in over his teeth and pushing in across the horse’s head, coaxing it in, teasing it deeper, until finally he felt it pressing out at every boundary of his maw from inside. It pushed up against the roof of his mouth, it squeezed his tongue against his lower jaw; it ballooned his cheeks so that he had no choice but to slurp and swallow around it, saliva already becoming sticky and discolored with the distinctive presence of horse.

Before he let himself get too far into it, though, Perry pulled himself back again, lips popping softly as the rim of Finn’s cock sloughed free. A few strands of his drool hung down in between, jiggling in the air; these flung to the side and broke as the beast throbbed again, this time with another toss of the head to make his bridle rattle. From somewhere behind him Perry heard Cooper shift where he stood, the other horse’s full assortment of straps, rattles, buckles, pins, and everything else clinking and clattering together, providing a comfortable background noise for him to reach over and dig into his bag again.

With his other paw he swiftly worked at the fly of his pants, then somewhat awkwardly wiggled and kicked out his pants and underwear where he half knelt, half sprawled across the hay-strewn floor. Of course he was already fully hard, and had been so since he had first brushed his paws across the beast’s firm, powerful shoulders, and brought his muzzle in to nuzzle against Finn’s thick neck to breathe in his scent; the ice-cat reached up, squelched his fingers down into the loose, limp wrinkles surrounding the base of the horse’s shaft, and spread that same greasy warmth across his pads so he could then give himself a few strokes, mixing his own musk with the same richness that clung to the back of his throat and puffed out his nostrils with each breath.

From the bottom of the bag he pulled out a clear glass jar, specifically wide-mouthed. The lid rattled around somewhere within the bag, but for now he ignored that; instead Perry turned around so that his tail end faced Finn’s cock instead of his mouth, and scooted underneath, now running that saliva-slicked paw up beneath his tail. Two wet, slimy fingers pressed up against the rim of his own tailhole, teasing around, sinking right in; he took in a gasp, gritted his teeth, sighed… pushed back out against the pressure, and deliberately wedged and pulled and tugged to stretch himself out. Two fingers turned to three, then three to four; he brought his other paw to his muzzle, sloppy slurped his fingers all around within his mouth still tasting of horse cock, and then reached back with his chest pressed against the floor, four fingers on one paw giving way to two fingers from each; then three from each, pulling, tugging, squishing, squelching into the sleek, supple wrinkled folds of his insides.

This was something his arousal-addled mind had attempted a few times before but had never quite managed, but this time, this morning, with the wind gently whispering in the trees outside, with Finn huffing and chuffing in eager impatience and all of Cooper’s gear rattling and jangling in the nearby stall, Perry was determined to get it done. He squished his paw up underneath his tail as much as he could, pushing, squeezing, shivering… and then sighed out with trembling relief when he slopped it back out, all of that tension briefly trickling out of him. The feline swallowed, throat still coated with the equine’s musk, then looked back behind himself, hoisted his hind end up a little bit higher, fixed himself into a somewhat awkward half-squat with one arm reaching down towards the ground underneath him, and gripped the end of Finn’s cock with his paw.

Again and again he smeared his palm across him, working as much of the sticky slickness of his drool across the beast’s head and length as he could – which naturally ignited Finn’s instincts to jerk, and thrust, and throb, and pulse again and again. Awkward angle, awkward position, awkward posture, but still the ice-cat persisted nonetheless: he lifted his hind end up, angled the horse’s cock in towards his prepared tailhole, nudged back until he felt the distinct warm, squishy-firm pressure of that blunted head pressing in against him.

“Slowly, now…” he murmured, more to himself than the horse. Back and forth, side to side, slowly wedging himself open, bringing him deeper and deeper… until, of course, the beast felt that squeeze, knew this was Perry underneath him, and reciprocated in turn. The feline felt the twinge in Finn’s muscles before the thrust itself actually came, and braced himself in preparation – and yet even that seemed as though it were not enough.

Finn bucked, fast, hard, deep, and Perry’s entire body jerked forward with the response. He felt the breath forced out of his chest, felt his insides sloshing and squishing around the sudden meaty intrusion, felt his muscles ripple and tense up throughout him in squeezing around the horse’s arousal – and then right as he managed to find the space to catch his breath and straighten his stance, the feral drew back, feeling as though he were yanking his intestines back out from inside, and thrust forward again, clumsy hooves clopping along the floor and then tapping backwards again.

Every thrust forward inside of him was a blast of fuel across the fire flaring within, the same shock and discomfort and deep, lurching sensation mixing and muddling with his constant arousal, anticipation, disbelief that this was actually happening. With great effort Perry managed to waddle forward a bit, reaching his paws out towards the nearby stall divider; he braced himself there and lifted up into Finn’s ongoing thrusts, his lower body nearly lifting up off the ground with each movement forward, fully hard cock bouncing underneath him. He tried to tense and clench around the feral’s length but found his muscles could no longer respond, pushed beyond their limits; each breath pushed out of him trickled out into a lingering, rumbling moan.

His head swam, his throat sizzled with the lingering taste of horse musk and sheath sludge, his ears jingled with hooves clopping, treated wood straining, tack rattling; all around him he still heard the swishing of leather straps hanging from the walls, and the clinking and clanging of the various other bits of metal equipment used within the barn. Finn huffed and snorted and rumbled, preparing himself for each thrust forward, the urgency building up within him; dazed and floating at the edge of a dream, Perry managed to shake himself back to the present, reached back behind himself with both paws, and squeezed back along the horse’s full cock, pressing down at the swelling veins, the line of his medial ring, the soft silky velvet-leather skin streaked and smeared with saliva, and bit by bit started to coax him back out.

If he flares in me, he thought distantly, it’s over. I just… want to…

He hoisted one leg forward, turned his clenching to pushing instead, gritted his teeth, wrenched his eyes shut… watched the stars and colors start to swirl before his darkened vision until, right then at the last moment along a backwards swing from the feral horse on top of him, he finally managed to yank Finn free. The sloppy, wet squelching of his own tailhole reverberated out above all the other noises in the barn save for his own panting and moaning, and then with those last few seconds Perry gladly let his legs go out from underneath him so he could drop down, turn around, and squish both paws down along Finn’s twitching, leaking cock, angling his head down towards where the jar waited.

It took all of his strength to keep the beast’s shaft from swinging up and slapping his belly again, but the first quick, forceful spray of loose, liquid pre blasted out across the floor next to the jar, and sent strands of hay flying. On instinct Perry flared his nostrils and drew as much of that scent in as he could, still squeezing, massaging behind the horse’s growing flare – so that when Finn finally rocketed over the edge, he could press him right up against the mouth of the jar to unload.

At first he thought the power behind those spurts might shatter the glass, with how loudly they pinged out from inside. Almost immediately the glass fogged up, the thick, frothy white liquid sloshing and swirling around, worked to a thick wake under its own force: above him Finn grunted and huffed and pawed at the floor all over again, powerful body angled down, huge balls churning up against his body to release their load, shaft twitching, pulsing, throbbing with the power flowing behind each spurt. Perry watched, once again enraptured, as the jar filled up nearly to brimming, then finally spilled over and across his waiting fingers, themselves releasing from behind Finn’s broad, impressive flare as the horse started to retract back into his sheath.

Without another thought the feline brought one paw to his muzzle, first just clamping his wet, sticky, slimy fingers across his nose to breathe in the mixed scent of his own drool and tailhole, and then Finn’s musk and cum. His other paw slid down the now greasy exterior surface of the jar, flows of the horse’s load dribbling down the sides to mat down his fur and pool along the floor; he squeezed the firm glass, soaking in the swirling, simmering heat as it swelled out from inside, then finally started to lift it up – nearly dropped it, caught it with his other paw – and brought it to his muzzle.

Again like lifting the lid off of a pot of stew simmering on the stove, the heat, the humidity, the power swirling up off the bubbly, creamy, greasy surface, set his head to spinning all over again. Vaguely he heard the horse responsible clopping off to the side, then another jingle when he tossed his head; Perry swallowed, tasted the beast’s seed even before closing the distance, then leaned in, tilted the jar back, set it to his lips…

...and smoothly dropped one slickness-strewn paw down to rub at himself as it flowed into his maw, the sticky, thick heat coating every inch of his mouth from inside. It felt like drinking melted butter, just as hot, just as slick, just as bubbly as it rushed into the back of his throat, dripped down the corners of his mouth, sloshed up… slid down into his belly with his first swallow, and then the second, and the third as he continued to tilt the jar back. Finn’s seed splashed across his lips and dropped down in thick, sticky ropes; Perry struggled to catch his breath in between thirsty gulps, wanting to drink more than he wanted to breath, another thick film of the horse’s cum already coating his nose and bubbling out with each breath until, finally, he inverted the jar over his muzzle and closed his eyes, letting the last of the stringy wetness drape down over the already soaked fur of his muzzle.

Panting, shuddering, dizzy-drunk with arousal, Perry finally pressed the emptied jar back down to the ground and carefully lifted himself back to his full height. As he stumbled forward he could feel his well-used, stretched tailhole squishing within his rump; he reached back, giggled softly, and easily slopped all four fingers and his thumb into himself, pressing smoothly into luscious, silken folds of wet inner meat.

Next time, he thought, I’ll let him finish inside… and I’ll still bring the jar, and…

Finn’s broad, strong head came in to nuzzle against him as he approached, bridle jingling softly again. Perry lifted a paw to brush across his mane, then thought better of it as more sticky ropes dribbled free, complete with stray strands of hay from where he had just knelt across the floor. “Thank you,” he murmured, and brushed his muzzle alongside Finn’s; the warm, comfortable scent of horse just barely won out over the richer, stronger pulse of equine seed soaking through his fur, and then came the light touch of the treated leather of his bridle as well. “Thank you, beautiful. You treat me – so well, and you know I try to do the same for you. You… you’re…”

He wet his lips, sighed, and nuzzled in against him again, for a moment just letting his arms drape around the horse’s presence. Arousal still simmering through him, Perry let that contact, that connection, flood out between the two of them for those moments, heart stirring just like his belly, until he finally lifted his head, nuzzled in again, and turned.

More clattering, clanking, jangling, tapping from near the back door of the barn perked Perry’s ears, the familiar, enticing noises of Cooper’s full bridle, halter, harness, and everything else swaying and clicking against itself as he walked. The steady bomp-bomp of shod hooves on a wooden floor gave way to a quieter, softer step on his way out, tail swaying, his broad, powerful rump swinging from side to side as he just now started to leave the barn for the growing morning sunlight outside.

Perry managed to reach him just before, the feline’s paws sliding out across his generous rear just in time for the horse to lift his head and look back, curiosity winning out over his trademark aloof annoyance. The beast’s ears perked, his wide eyes glittered, his tail swished, and all of his attached gear rattled again upon him slowing to a stop.

Where he stood behind him, the feline could feel the latent strength and heat simmering out from beneath the horse’s pelt, Cooper’s a bit shorter, a bit thicker, than Finn’s. He licked his lips and swallowed again, then had to do so another two times for the way the other stallion’s load still coated the entirety of his throat; when he spoke he felt it bubble up from inside, and had to clear his throat and do so yet again.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, “where do you think you’re going? I just got here, don’t you… want to…” Cooper stood still as he leaned in closer, brushing his muzzle in sideways along the horse’s rump, tilting his head to angle up beneath that raised tail… nudging his nose in so that the warm, rich scent of equine strength wafted across him, and coaxed him in closer. “Spend some time together? I mean, I won’t make you, but just… if you want to, you could…”

Cooper regarded him for a moment longer, then flicked his ears, tossed his head – Perry giggled at the thought of seeing a sassy eye-roll there, too – and it seemed that his tail hiked up just a little bit higher. Seeing this as an invitation as clear as any, the ice-cat felt his heart skip a beat and immediately positioned himself more properly behind the stallion’s hind end, one paw sliding up along one of the rear straps of his harness, the other coming in underneath that raised tail to tease and touch at the base of his tailhole.

There was that sweet, luxurious warmth again, the smooth, soft velvet sensation of puckered, wrinkled skin lifting out beneath his touch, the powerful muscles tensing, pushing… raising further and then relaxing, so that the beast’s plush, protruding tailhole sagged out closer to Perry’s muzzle. It was as if Cooper were waiting for him, as though the beast were deliberately puckering up for the kiss-

-which he just could not resist. Perry swallowed, wet his lips again, smeared Finn’s load more fully across his muzzle, and then gladly closed that distance, moving in to seal his parted lips wholly around Cooper’s waiting tailhole. The sweet, silken humid heat wafted out within his maw, simmering, searing, intoxicating; for a moment he just held himself there, eyes lidded, nose lifting up beneath his raised tail to draw in his scent, and just allowing Cooper’s donut tailhole to rest across the surface of his tongue. Then, bit by bit, he began to work his way in: first swirling around the base, feeling where the skin itself lifted out from the rest of his rump, tracing the powerful lines of the muscular rim, and curling up and in towards the puckered center.

The entry of Cooper’s rim yielded surprisingly easily to Perry’s investigating tongue, supple wrinkles folding inwards to squish around him, the greasy, slightly crusty rim pressing inwards, folding out, nestling into place. The feline could not help but moan out around the beast’s tailhole settled across his tongue, his own breath vibrating back across him; his head tilted back as his chest forward behind Cooper’s hind legs, arms spreading up over his haunches, pushing through his fur, feeling, tugging, pulling at all of the straps of his harness, claws tapping at the smooth, polished metal of the rings and links and studs, trying to draw himself in deeper. And it worked, for a little bit: Cooper’s supple, succulent tailhole continued to fold out around him, the smooth, slightly flaky exterior giving way to sleek, silky inner rim, slightly sticky, a little bit tacky, pulling him deeper.

Again and again Perry sucked and swallowed, drawing off those bits and flooding his mouth with the irresistible presence of equine rump. He dug in with his tongue and jaws until his nose squished in against Cooper’s rim, held himself there until his lungs burned with the weight of stale air, and only then drew back to moan out across the now saliva-slickened hole. The more he worked at it, the slacker and looser it became, the normally stoic, strict Cooper finally relaxing to let the feline indulge both of them.

Slowly, bit by bit, Perry dragged his paws back in over the horse’s powerful haunches, making sure to catch his fingers beneath the straps of Cooper’s harness and tug it back into place as he did so. Spare hanging straps and decorative tassels swung and tickled and rustled; the horse huffed again, padded at the ground, and then actually pressed backwards against Perry’s digging muzzle, squishing his face underneath hiked tail and slowly shifting rim, gradually molding out around the shape of his muzzle, squeezing into place, tensing slightly.

The ice-cat slid in closer, making sure to keep his lips wrapped down around the base of his tailhole, sucking and slurping and holding himself steady. Perry enjoyed it, he delighted in it, and he flicked his tongue up to catch the sandpaper surface across the slick, warm, wet furls of the horse’s tailhole, smearing over the natural gathered slime of his guts.

Again the feline moaned, mouth flooding with the rich, sharp vegetal grassiness of the beast’s hind end, tainting his breath and fogging his senses, filling him with intense indulgence and delight that for a moment he felt dizzy. Every breath Perry drew now felt and tasted as those he had just shoved his muzzle inside the horse’s ass, drawing in air so thick that he almost had to drink it; he slid his paws back in from Cooper’s haunches to underneath his tail again, fingers and thumbs scooping, cupping around the protruding ring of meat and muscle, still sucking away at it.

The ice-cat turned to ply himself against the inner walls of Cooper’s tailhole the slick, supple wrinkles squinching up against themselves in response to that digging tongue. He inhaled through his mouth and tongue both, then moaned right back out into the beast’s tailhole as it pushed back against him, sucking, slurping, swallowing his own tainted drool; he scooped his tongue into the recently parted rim, digging as deep as he could, swirling around, sucking that meat right back out from inside. Finally Perry reached down to attend to himself, thrusting into an urgent paw slick with equine seed and sweat; panting, trembling, moaning freely into Cooper’s tailhole nestled snug around his lips and tongue, Perry pushed glob after glob of sticky saliva into the horse’s guts only to then suck them right back out, scooping with his tongue, plunging, thrusting-

-gasping, shuddering, bucking… jerking, then doing so again, and again, his paw squeezing tight around his hard cock as it pulsed in emptying his fervent load out across the grass underneath him, his other paw holding for dear life onto one of the straps of the horse’s harness. Underneath his own panting and moaning, magnified by the firm presence of the beast’s rump here around his muzzle, that same jangling and clanking of rivets and rings and rustling of straps announced his desperate finish, still caught with the feral’s tailhole sucked a good two inches into his lips and sealed around his tongue.

Still moaning, the spinning of the world gradually slowing to a stop around him, Perry’s eyes fluttered open a moment later and, begrudgingly, he pulled himself free from underneath Cooper’s tail. A few thick, sticky strands of slightly discolored drool hung between his maw and the freshly polished rim, flexing and pulsing in the sudden absence of sensation.

Sensing that he had been freed from the ice-cat’s intimate embrace, Cooper took a tentative step forward, then two more. His tail remained hiked at the base for a moment, then slowly started to lower down; he swung himself gently to the side, tassels and straps rustling again, and looked the feline up and down with a gentle huff.

“...What?” Perry managed after a moment. He reached up and wiped at his mouth. “Don’t you… give me that look. I know you liked that too. Maybe not as much as I did… but…”

But there was no denying that when the horse stepped to the side, his halfway-revealed shaft swung between his legs, wrinkled skin of his sheath pulling, the mass of still mostly soft flesh bouncing with its own heft. Relief and satisfaction swelling through him, Perry chuckled softly, swallowed again, and started to drop down to his knees to help the horse along-

-and then paused as his ears perked. He tilted his head, heart picking up in his chest, then straightened up a little bit further – and saw a familiar truck emerge from the trees further down the road, brake lights shining as it slowed to start its turn into the access road.

The feline’s tail flicked. He looked down at himself, at the strings and smears of drool across his shirt, then further in at the barn where he had kicked off his pants. Finn flicked his ears and appraised the ice-cat, then started to step forward. Perry looked back to the road, dove behind the door, and let one more thought zap through his mind.

I’ll hide, he thought, and just wait ‘til they leave again. God, it’ll be hell being this close to the boys without doing anything with them, but… it’ll be worth it.

Finn stepped forward and nudged against him; Perry idly reached over to brush over the other horse’s muzzle.

Well, maybe one of them would be willing to keep me some company...