"I am not, to be clear, saying that I didn't fuck a Khajiit. I am saying that something really weird happened last night that may or may not have involved some form of time manipulation magic, and it may well also have included me fucking a Khajiit."

“Khajiit can agree at least with the claim that Ruby’s story is really weird,” he laughs. Once again, the sudden relaxation causes his cock to stiffen and quiver. Around most Nords, he’d be worried this was confusing, but if this Ruby had been balls-deep in a queen then—or maybe that was a smell talking. He’d said nothing about knowing how male Khajiit behave. “Well, congrats on your bedding, as Khajiit would say. I’m sure you pleased her.”

"I would sure hope so, but my experience with Khajiit so far has been limited to one co-Apprentice at Winterhold, and he's male." He does not want Qanar-dar to come out of this interaction thinking that Ruby doesn't want to fuck.

Qanar-dar’s ears flick, and he doesn’t try to hide it. “Khajiit has not met many Nords so comfortable with liaisons between men. Perhaps my fellow Khajiit explained the way we view it in Elsweyr. Or perhaps Ruby is just very open-minded.”

"Ruby is extremely open-minded. Ruby is also not a Nord, though, so perhaps that's got something to do with it."

Qanar-dar sits on the side of the pool. “Ah, then Khajiit need not be so concerned.” He smiles. “It was quite a shock to Khajiit, when he learned that the Nords consider mating between males inappropriate. Nearly got Khajiit’s tail singed, when first arriving.” He laughs and stretches lazily, purring; clearly a performance. “Qanar-dar finds other males attractive even without the aid of that smell you carry, and not unusually for his kind. But with it around, making males more aggressive in their pursuits, it is especially common to defuse tension with mating, to avoid a fight.”

"So did the priestess think you wanted to fight me when actually you wanted to fuck me, is that what happened?"

"Khajiit was indeed angry to see the temple in disarray," he says with hesitation. "And the smell certainly made aggression seem reasonable. That there are other ways to resolve differences did occur to Khajiit as well, and he may have preferred them, though he did not voice as much to the priestess."

"So what were you thinking we'd do to 'resolve our differences', in the world where I'm a Nord and not willing to do something like," and he scoots over next to Qanar-dar until he's close enough that he can rest his chin on the Khajiit's thigh and start playing with his balls, touch light and gentle, "this?"

"In that world, Khajiit would have to escort the vandal out of the temple still, but," Qanar-dar interrupts himself to groan happily, one hand tenderly resting on his new friend's head. His cock fully unsheathed immediately, obedient to the touches in a way that would have embarrassed a younger Qanar-dar. "But—it would have been a much less pleasant experience. Qanar-dar is not one to abandon even a foolish young mage to the Nords, and he feared this new one's behavior might contaminate the Winterhold reputation in Markarth by causing such destruction while wearing the official cloak." He purrs playfully. "From there, Khajiit supposes that the new mage would have been be essentially his captive, and Khajiit might do as he pleases with a captive, including teaching him how other peoples settle their differences. But—Qanar-dar sees that this one does not need to be taught such etiquette after all."

"Oh, I think I do, actually." He pushes himself off the water so that he can sit on Qanar-dar's lap, facing him, one leg to either side of him, wrapping them behind Qanar-dar's body. He's full mast, now, and from this position his cock is reaching up to the Khajiit's chest. "I don't see how this would settle any differences. This seems like we both want the same thing."

The smell is much stronger in this position, wafting up between them like an incense. Qanar-dar's pupils dilate and his lip curls involuntarily, the better to feel the scent in his mouth. Damp, bitter, musky, good. He blinks slowly, trying to keep his mind focused, but it wrestles away from him, slides down Ruby's throat and chest like a snake, hisses in annoyance at the idea of pretty words and politeness and demands instead that Qanar-dar look at this man's muscles and think about how they might flex while being fucked. "Really? Because to Qanar-dar's mind, this—" and here he reaches up press the cock to his chest with a rough felid hand— "feels like it wants to mate, yet Khajiit would much rather see it swinging useless under the queen-boy he's fucking senseless...."

"Me fucking you senseless, you fucking me senseless, does it make a difference?" He places one hand behind Qanar-dar's back and pushes his hips closer to Qanar-dar, squeezing both of their cocks between their bodies. "So long as we both feel good."

"Feel good," he echoes under his breath, along with a string of Ta'agra syllables unintelligible even to him. He rolls his hips beneath Ruby and buries his face in the face in the man's shoulder. It isn't just Ruby's cock that smells of heat: his whole body was suffused, like the man has wiped it on himself, or used his mouth and had the liquid trail down his chin and neck and chest. Qanar-dar tastes the man's skin before he even notices he's opened his mouth. Yes. He growls and licks again, running his hand up and down Ruby's length in the absent manner of petting an animal.

It'd probably ruin Qanar-dar's image to himself if Ruby voiced the thought that he's adorable, so Ruby won't do that. Instead he'll say, "Come on, catboy, where's that fucking me senseless you promised?"

“Khajiit promised nothing,” Qanar-dar says with venomous excitement, “but since you asked!” He bites Ruby’s neck with slightly more ferocity than he realizes and tugs him sideways and back, to make him roll off Qanar-dar’s lap so that the Khajiit can climb atop him. Of course, at this angle he isn’t really in a position to enforce this suggestion, should Ruby want to fight him.

Why would Ruby want to fight him this is delightful. He gasps when he's bit, casting a quick healing spell with one hand to make sure his neck isn't too damaged, and wraps his arms around the Khajiit. "I did ask," he says, and this is when he'd really love to be able to purr, this feels like a purring situation. Lacking the ability to do that, though, he can make sure his skin is really close to Qanar-dar's nose so he can take in the scent that seems to be sending him into such a rut.

With his new mate underneath him now, Qanar-dar is now purring enough for the both of them, and rubbing his face on the man’s chest. Every inch of this new mage smells of lust—the sting of it sits on Qanar-dar’s soft palate like a wine, and it percolates through to drown his brain just as effectively. “Thought I had escaped rutting season this year,” he slurs to himself as he grabs his dick by the base and plays a finger along the spines, to make sure he is fully prepared to breed.

He needn’t have worried. Just touching it shot sparks behind his eyes. “R-ready?” he heaves.

"—raw?" he asks, half-incredulous half-aroused.

“You don’t—did nobody teach you at Winterhold?” Qanar-dar’s voice is husky from the scent but his tone is concerned, creating an odd discordance. “There’s an Alteration spell for—I think they usually call it ‘peachflesh’ as a joke.” His voice rises slightly. “You said you had a Khajiiti bedmate at Winterhold! I assumed you knew how to—.”

Suddenly he laughs. “You bluff well. Khajiit was totally prepared to treat you like a ten-tom queen with all this talk of being rough, and you kept the pretense up until Qanar-dar was literally at the gate.” He brushes hair from Ruby’s face. In the back of his head, something whispers that he ought to take this as a warning that something is not normal, but in the front of his head the vomeronasal organ is king, and he the mere servant of the scent it detects. “Khajiit admires a male that brave, even among his own kind.”

Blink blink. "It might just be beyond my skill? I'm just an Apprentice. J'zargo didn't have such a spell anyway."

Qanar-dar chuckles. "A fellow apprentice, then, since I don't know the name." Qanar-dar blinks a few times as he tried to cast—focus was not easy with his nose screaming at him. "When Qanar-dar's instructor told Qanar-dar that it would be wise to commit this spell to heart, Qanar-dar thought he was threatening Khajiit by implication, in a fit of pique over Qanar-dar's distaste for Alteration. Instead, Khajiit thinks it was prescience about the logistics of bedding apprentices."

"Maybe he'd met Khajiit before." He pauses. "Maybe he'd met Khajiit before," he repeats with an eyebrow waggle. ...he's not sure Qanar-dar understands Men's facial expressions well enough. Whatever. "And mages are the way we are."

Qana-dar smirks. “If he had not met Khajiit before, he certainly did that day.” He debates internally for a moment, then says, “I hope this J’zargo left as good an impression.”

"He's certainly left an impression of some kind. Mixed valence, but overall good."