graasvoel

The giant pegasus had been so preoccupied by the dull pulse from his groin (he wasn’t sure if the cold made the sensation worse or better) that he hadn't paid any attention to the ‘rock’ behind him as he had landed—until the ‘rock’ spoke. Dark brows raised, hot red-and-yellow eyes widened as his bearded chin jerked around, finding that what he thought was the smooth, icy top of a rock was, instead, a bony old stallion with all of his hair beneath rather than above. Gaal’s head cocked slightly—at the current moment, we would prefer to have all of his insulation beneath, as well.

The curiously undulating and gyrating snake wrapped and writhing around the old man’s horns drew the vulture’s sharp gaze away from the mass of reddish-brown hair. At first, his raised brows knit together in confused curiosity—glad to have something take his attention away from his personal, masculine discomfort. Though, upon further examination of the stallion and snake before him, his attention was immediately and forcefully brought back to his own, uncomfortable pulsing.

It was true that the man’s shaggy, burnt orange under-beard did a relatively capable job of concealing what the snake’s circulating motions blatantly do not hide. But the Korofi stallion has been in too many whorehouses (both upstanding and salacious—when one has been in the latter, it is easy to understand how the first exists) to be ignorant to the other stallion’s current condition.

So a bawdy guffaw coupled with a crude grin fills the cold air with clouds of condensed, hot breath. “Us ‘mother fucking peg-asses’ wouldn’t need to be announced if you weren’t such a verdraai,” he used his mother language as his gruff voice sounded amid his laughs, uncertain of the term for ‘horny old stallion’ in the common tongue. His sharp, raptor gaze darted pointedly to the suggestively bulging hair beneath the man’s barrel before returning to seek his bright green gaze, “Though good on both of you for not needing help in this cold weather. I certainly do—eh, would.”

Another low chuckle sounded roughly from his throat, though this one shorter and self-deprecating, coupled his quick verbal correction. He shook his great body roughly once, sending a spray of iced sweat shattering to the icy tundra, lingering for a moment more as if this man’s sexual gratification would somehow ease his own carnal aggravations.

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verdraai = pervert/exhibitionist

I do not want to repeat my innocence
I want to repeat the pleasure of losing it