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The cold Skyrim air nipped at Lukas’ fur, and the otter barely suppressed a shiver as he crept out of the dark stone walls of the main city, pulling his cloak tight around him as he played a careful balancing game between hurrying to the stables outside the gate and blending in with the shadow to avoid any half-asleep guard meandering on the path by torchlight. The rogue was quick and quiet on his feet, a practiced hand at getting in and out of where he didn’t belong, taking what wasn’t his. It was a point of pride, but a shady looking figure in a cloak hurrying out the gates at night always raised uncomfortable questions, and tonight of all nights, he wasn’t inclined to be caught. Not that I’m stealing anything this time, he thought, a cozy, expectant grin creeping on his face despite the chill. Nothing tangible, nothing valuable. To anyone else, anyways. To him, his mark was priceless. Despite the experience he had with this exact type of ‘heist’, he still felt a swell of anxiety in his gut when he finally laid eyes on the stables, sealed shut for the night. The farmhouse itself was locked shut, windows dark- the stablehands had already gone to sleep. Lukas cast a quick glance to the main road behind him- ensuring nobody had seen him- and when he was assured of his privacy, he could barely keep himself from running towards the stables, silently rushing over near-frozen earth, thankfully bereft of snow, to creep along the side of the old wooden building, eyeing up the dull walls for a window. Forced entry through the front door when any other option existed was a rookie’s mistake for a thief, and even during such a personal indulgence, his instincts guided him to a dusty, worn panel on the side of the barn. Picking the lock was trivial- the thing was so rusted, he could pry it off if he was impatient. Slowly holding the frame aside, he eased a leg over the window and slunk inside. The chill of the night air left him as Lukas pushed the window behind him shut, a warm, humid atmosphere engulfing him quickly. Steadying himself, Lukas consciously made an effort to shut his mouth and breathe through his nose. A much different shiver crept down his spine as the muggy, musky stench of the stables hit the otter. Smells like a barn, alright. A sudden bristle to his side nearly made the otter jump, hardened reflexes nearly making him leap for the window, but he caught himself at the sight of its source. A tawny mare, half-lidded eyes hidden behind a shaggy mane of hair, huffed curiously at the sight of the intruder, too groggy and used to seasonal handlers of all kinds to muster a more startled reaction. With a sigh of relief, Lukas rose from a crouch, removing the hood from his head as he approached the mare, fishing a small handful of juniper berries from his pocket. “Hey, girl, it’s okay, I’m a friend,” he cooed, his voice a whisper in the night as the mare pushed its muzzle into his palm and lapped up the offered treat. The feeling of her fingers tickling the fur of his paw sent electric through his system, and Lukas took the opportunity to lean in and stroke a delicate hand through her mane, pressing his lips against her snout in an affectionate gesture. “Yeah, you know I’m friendly, don’t you? Just relax, alright? Just wanna treat you and your friends right. You’ll enjoy it, promise.” With the mare sated and calm, Lukas circled around the stall she stood in until he was at its entrance, near her rear. His breath hitched as her tail whipped back and forth, giving a teasing look at the rim of her anus. Slowly, swallowing to steel his nerves and steady his trembling hand, he reached out and gently patted her rear end, the mare flicking her tail in acknowledgement but showing no sign of discomfort or disapproval. Parting her toned cheeks just enough to get a better peak at her puffy anus, he leaned in, restraining himself from pushing the pad of his nose against her just yet, and drew in a long, slow sniff. Her musk was light, compared to other horses he’d sampled- and I’ve sampled plenty of horses- but even this initial whiff, after so long without a hit, was enough to make the otter involuntarily whine in bliss, his britches quickly becoming far too restrictive around his cock. She wasn’t the one- she had gotten some attention today, clearly, she was too clean- but he was grateful for his first that night, a sampler for the feast to come. With a reverent “thank you” muttered, and a quick kiss pressed to her rim- like giving a lover a quick peck on the lips- Lukas pushed open the stall door and began to slowly wander by each one, eyeing up every breed of equine like a nobleman eyeing up exotic khajiiti dancers. Every stall had their food trough towards the back of the pen, and most every horse was either grazing or elected to sleep facing away from the entrance. Thus, the otter was treated to an easy view of horse ass with each stall he passed- like it was fucking tailored to me, he thought with a grin. Whenever a horse- mare or stallion, it mattered not- enticed him with a view of a gorgeous rear end, Lukas quickly, almost instinctively leaned over the railing, eyes half-lidded in a haze of lust, and sucked in the stench wafting from each anus. Heady, earthy, warm, damp, musky- a sensation of scents that made the otter shudder, forcing himself to moan and whine in quiet at the risk of being disturbed during his most treasured of midnight rituals. The first time he had ever gotten truly intimate with a horse- when he dared to push his nose flush against the rim of its puffy donut, and the ornery steed responded by pushing back and wedging his nose inside its anus- he came so abruptly he didn’t even have time to loosen his slacks and spare his britches the stains. He remains convinced that that horse- or hell, that horse’s ass- was his first kiss. His first real crush. Each scent, despite how earthy and foul the stench was, came as a unique sensation to the otter, like sampling fine wines. By the time he had made it to the final stall, close to the stable’s entrance, he was considering breaking up his attention, giving some love to each winking donut he passed. Lost in thought and only half-paying attention, he opened the final stall door, leaned forward to get a whiff… and balked. It reeked. Within the confines of its stall, the stallion inside- a large, coal-furred draft horse with a long mane and unkempt tail- huffed through its nose as it looked back at the stranger recoiling from its ass, unbothered by the concentrated mugginess of the air around it or the overwhelming stench of farm animal permeating every inch of fur on its dark coat. The stallion’s tail flicked dismissively, scattering the musk wafting from its anus. The horse was big, sweaty, filthy- if the stablehands were in charge of cleaning their beasts, they had clearly ignored this one’s hygiene for the day. Probably even longer. Wrinkling his nose, Lukas eyed the beast, abashed at his display. “S-sorry, big guy, you just-” without even thinking, he inhaled another whiff as he approached to lay a hand on the stallion, and the otter nearly felt his eyes water as he winced. “F-fuck… Gods, that’s…” That’s incredible. His words dying in his throat, Lukas permitted himself to open his mouth, tongue lolling as he finally worked up the courage to draw in another long, slow inhale. Even as his eyes winced shut, his mouth watered and his legs threatened to give way from under him as he sucked in the stallion’s stench, the muscular horse calmly, aloofly chomping down on a mouthful of hay as the thief behind him nearly fell against his rear end for support. “H-holy fuck… you smell so fucking bad,” Lukas murmured, awe and reverence dripping from his every word. His cock strained against his briefs, screaming for release, and in his lust-drunk stupor, Lukas complied, clumsily undoing his belt in a single hand and letting his britches fall as the black stallion pawed at the ground in front of it- a sign of excitement, impatience. Gods, it wants this just as badly as me… waited for me to get all the way here and… nearly knocked me out with that fucking ass. Settling both paws on the horse’s muscular asscheeks, Lukas reached in with dexterous thumbs and began to prod and tug at the thick, puffy anus of the horse, caked in sweat and grime from hours of exertion. Grease seeped into the fur on his thumbs as he toyed with the sensitive lips, and the stallion uttered a grumble of approval (a sound Lukas had more than enough experience to recognize immediately) as his anus was toyed with. “Good boy, good boy,” Lukas muttered, licking his lips as he took quick, needy sniffs at the air. As he pulled the horse’s rim open, a fresh wave of warm, muggy anal musk filtered out, a blast of odor that had the otter drooling. Between the stallion’s legs, just past a pair of heavy, low-hanging balls, a thick, equine cock slowly emerged from its sheathe, the familiar perfume of unwashed cock joining the heavenly miasma that had sent Lukas’ head swimming with bliss. With trembling enthusiasm, the otter leaned forward and pressed the pad of his nose against the puckered donut, sweat and sebum griming the fur of his muzzle as he took another, trembling inhale. Sweat tickled his nostrils as a potent concentration of muggy, almost noxious anal stink flooded his nasal cavity. The thick miasma dulled his senses- whether from watering from the stench or from a head swimming in musk, his vision blurred, his hearing dulled, save for the stallion’s receptive huffs, his legs trembled so greatly Lukas feared he might collapse if not for the horse’s weight supporting him. He indulged himself in several more greedy huffs, nose pressed snug against the puffy donut on display. His hands grasped possessively at the taut, muscular rear, fingers clawing at the stretchy rim of the stallion’s asshole, prying, trying to dig deeper, practically drooling for more- With an impatient whinny and a stamp of its leg, the Stallion backed itself up and pushed its rear end against the otter’s face, muffling a gasp of surprise as his nose was wedged into the stallion’s sweat-coated anus. He nearly lost balance as the horse bucked against his muzzle, eagerly trying to coax the thief’s face deeper in its rim, but Lukas was quick to grip at the stallion’s rear legs, firm as tree trunks, and hold himself in place, eyes squeezed shut. Fuck… he wants this too. Big, handsome stud of a horse wants me to shove my snout right up his… Lukas could barely finish his thought as the stallion’s donut sunk around the otter’s nose with a wet, sweat schlk, his anus squeezing almost possessively around him. In the grimy depths, every inhale made the thief dizzy, an unfiltered blast of musk and sweat that made his toes curl and his tail whip in a lust-fueled frenzy. Like a junkie finally getting his next fix, the otter desperately snorted and forced himself in deeper, muzzle becoming caked in sweat and grease as he determinedly buried himself in his equine partner, who was all too eager to push back. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled back, his nose reluctantly prying itself from the black horse’s clutching rectum. Even when he unwedged himself, Lukas could still feel the overpowering stench of horse ass with every inhale… and could only feel, by comparison, that the lack of taste on his tongue felt horribly cold and sterile after the nasal snack he’d just sampled. That had to be rectified. Lips wet with anticipation, Lukas pushed his tongue against the stallion’s taint, and dragged it in a long, loving trail up perineum lane to his prize. He traced the tip of his tongue in a circle over the puffy donut as the dark stallion impatiently huffed, digging its hoof into the dirt beneath it as if to say dig in, already. Lukas barely registered the beast’s impatience; after huffing the stallion’s musky ass, its taste on his tongue was pure bliss, his mind long gone from any rational thought- only the hunger to seek out more. Thumbs pulling apart the horse’s slimy donut, the otter pushed his tongue against the rim, the muscle digging its way through heady, sweaty flesh as he tried to core out the asshole as deep as he could. His lips pressed flush against the puffy anus like a kiss- the best kind of kiss- and his legs trembled as his eyes closed, letting only the feel of the horse clenching on him, the potent, earthy taste overtake him. A mirthful sigh, muffled and prolonged, escaped his sweat-smeared lips, and it delighted him to realize that his breath smelled potently of stallion pucker. Needful, impatient whinies permeated the soundscape of licking, sucking, and slobbering that Lukas had engrossed himself in, and the stallion steadily rocked itself back against the otter's digging snout, the only way the surly beast could say keep going. no Even as Lukas reluctantly pulled his lips back to suck in a much needed breath, the horse clenched, and the otter found his tongue was, briefly, stuck in place, pinched tight within the sticky, slimy anal passage, stuck like a tongue pressed to an iron post in the winter air, the juicy donut refusing to let go of its new friend. Cute. Worried I’m gonna leave you behind, bud? Don’t be, I just need… a quick breath… then I’ll get back to cleaning you up. Give you a kiss to remember- True to his thoughts, Lukas, after some shaky breaths- and another needful whiff of the stench clinging to the beast’s backside- the other pressed his lips close, the mixture of drool, sweat, and flecks of dried something-or-other beginning to soak into the fur of his muzzle where it had already crusted. The knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to wash this scent off his snout for several bathings- knowledge hard earned from countless such encounters like this- made his tail wag like a lovestruck pup. A low, loving hum reverberated in the otter’s throat as he moaned into the horse’s anus, even as his tongue diligently circled and cleaned the dank, greasy, simmering flesh inside. A part of him still laughed at his memory of the first time he built up the nerve to do this- like it’s my first kiss, he thought with a breathy exhale. He’d barely worked up the nerve to approach a mare’s stable, afraid it’d kick him in displeasure the moment he took a sniff, how he recoiled at that acrid and bitter taste… and then he nonetheless pressed further, body shivering as he dared push the tip of his tongue into her welcoming ass, the taboo and nastiness of his actions nearly making him finish where he stood. Lost in a haze of memory and musk, the otter reached forward and grasped for the wrinkly, sweaty skin of the stallion’s sack, hefting the weight and warmth in his free hand. Gods, I might have a taste of this before I leave… maybe he’d be willing to bury this monster in- A jostle of old wood and jingling keys snapped the otter from his thoughts; immediately, he pulled back and nervously scanned the barn, a long string of drool connecting his lips with the rim of the stallion’s anus, who huffed impudently at the sudden halt to his pleasure. Towards the back, dimly lit by the light of the moon creeping in through the rafters, Lukas could see a side door to the stable shifting as someone pressed against it. The old doorknob in its frame turned as it was unlocked from the outside. Shit. Running for it was a no-go; even in darkness, anyone could see movement like that in an open space, and the window he’d come from was still sealed. In an instant, he scampered past the haunches of his stalemate and pressed himself into a corner where no light reached. Predictably, whoever finally entered, trudging in with a groggy grumble in a typical nordic accent, had brought an oil lamp to light the way, but it wasn’t potent. Assuming he didn’t search the stall thoroughly, Lukas would be fine. Still as a statue, he waited, eyes fixed on the monstrous shaft his stallion friend boasted that was bobbing between its legs. Outside his personal hotbed of equine musk, he saw a gray-furred boar- the owner of the stable?- looking around with bleary eyes, half lidded and unfocused. Barely looking up from each boot he put in front of the other, the old boar went from stall to stall, giving each one the most basic of once-overs before moving on, a routine he’d no doubt walked through a thousand nights before and had wedged itself into his sleep schedule to thoroughly cement itself as his least favorite part of his trade. Finally, he came to the great black stallion’s stall, and Lukas could see from the red in his eyes that he’d hit the mead hard before starting these rounds. He moved not a single muscle, mouth clamped shut to quiet his breathing, letting the rich, earthy foulness he’d just feasted on marinate in his mouth as he silently prayed the boar wouldn’t linger. The swine paused, squinting into the stall. His lips curled into a frown as he sneered and pulled away, fat arm rising to wave away the stench from his piggish nose. “Ysmir’s beard, those worthless stablehands can’t deal with one ornery horse long enough to get it clean? What are we gonna do wit’ you, Tyr?” The boar yawned, shaking his head as he trudged away, and Lukas dared to let a quiet sigh of relief escape. He waited as the lanternlight faded, listening keenly to the mumbling of the stablemaster about “selling that damn horse” becoming quieter and quieter as the wooden door slammed behind him. As soon as the voice was gone completely, Lukas let loose a breathy chuckle as relief flooded him. “Fuck, good thing he was drunk… Thanks for waiting for me, Tyr. That’s your name, was it, Tyr?” The stallion’s only response was to dig its front hoof into the ground beside Lukas. With a smile, Lukas licked his lips, savoring the sticky musk he tasted, and began to crawl forward. “Yeah, don’t worry, I won’t keep you waiting any longer, let me just get back behind you and-” Tyr wouldn’t give him time to move out from beneath him. As if waiting for the slight otter to crawl just beneath his bobbing shaft, the horse began to piss. Sharp, acrid, steaming liquid immediately doused the top of the otter’s head, who jumped up to his knees in surprise as the stallion continued to drain his cumbersome bladder on his guest. Lukas spluttered in surprise; his muzzle, cheeks, neck were immediately soaked in rank horse piss that overpowered the tart anal stench that was clinging to him already, and already a fair portion of his leather chestpiece had been doused and darkened by the frothy urine. The otter was nothing if not quick to act- and the small taste of urine that made it into his mouth reminded him of just how much he missed exactly this, too. Both hands grappled with Tyr’s cock, one running up the warm shaft to feel the medial ring as he guided the head towards his lips. His tongue lolled out as he pressed the head of the stallion’s cock to his mouth, lips forming a seal around the urethra as piss began to flood his mouth. Lukas let the stallion fill his maw, allowing the piss to pool and slosh over his tongue, in his gums, until his cheeks began to puff out. Only when he feared overflow did he finally swallow, shuddering in hedonistic delight as that warm golden ichor dripped down his throat and warmed his belly. It always amused him whenever drunks he lifted trinkets from complained of whatever tavern they were in serving alcohol that tasted like piss- in his opinion, he’d yet to find a liquor that was even half as precious as the one dripping down his chin. For several minutes, the stallion pissed, and his otter diligently drank, unbothered by the foul-smelling urine seeping into his clothing and fur. As the horse’s stream began to taper off, Lukas quickly felt around his bandoliers before pulling out a small canteen, hurriedly uncorking it and, with no small reluctance, pulling his lips back to angle the stream towards the open cap. His belly felt full to bursting, and even shifting on his knees on the straw-covered floorboards, he could feel the awkward weight of his binge drinking slosh in his stomach, but he’d eventually have room for more. “Waste not, want not,” he whispered as his canteen became full. Stowing that away, watching Tyr’s stream die down to a few mere dribbles, Lukas once more pressed his lips to cockhead, sucking on it like a sweet treat. He dipped his tongue into what little give the urethra had, moving it in circles as he cleaned out and sucked the rusty dregs of urine still stuck in the fine beast’s shaft. Sitting back with a satisfied sigh, Lukas crawled out from under the beast, past his haunches, and rose to his feet. He was filthy, gear damp with warm piss, face matted with sweat and foulness that he had no desire to wash away, and beneath all the filth and grime sticking to his fur, a look of pure contentment beamed on the otter’s face. Turning to the stall once more, he saw Tyr looking back at him, the dark-furred stallion utterly calm and welcoming of his presence. Lukas couldn’t help but stroke the horse’s flank as he cooed to it. “Such a good boy, Tyr. Such a strong horse… your owner said you were rowdy, huh? Seems like you’re nice enough with me.” Scooching along the side of the horse, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the bridge of the stallion’s nose, leaving a small kiss. “Thank you.” After parting ways with the handsome stallion (and giving it a second goodbye kiss, a smooch planted firmly on its anus when Tyr whipped the otter with his tail insistently), Lukas left the barn the same way he had entered: through the window, undetectable, silent and unseen. Pulling his dark cloak tight, Lukas began to trudge toward the city proper as he mentally mapped out the neighborhoods he’d be hitting for loot tonight. He still had a job to pull, after all, and if he now had to worry about any occupants smelling an intruder on top of seeing him… well, an extra challenge was fun. And if all went well, he’d be walking out of the guild hall with a heavy coin purse and the perfect purchase in mind. He’d eventually have to move on to other towns if the guard presence became too wary here; What better travelling companion than one you’re already acquainted with?