"Qanar-dar shall make up for his deficiencies, then." The overly dramatic snarl is mostly playful. That stinging in his nose made it hard not to react to everything more passionately than appropriate.

It's honestly kinda hot. "You're all words," he teases, wrapping and locking his legs around Qanar-dar's waist. "I want to see some action."

“But moments ago you were looking at Khajiit in horror at the thought.” He shifts forward until cock kisses hole again, and then presses just a little harder, testing whether his spell has properly taken. “You really have no sense of self-preservation.”

"Moments ago Khajiit hadn't cast that spell. Now he did. Which is not to say that I do have a sense of self-preservation, of course."

Rather than respond, he growls and bucks his hips. "Ahhhh, fuck!" he groans under his breath, eyes scrunched shut as the sensitive spines send pins of pleasure shooting toward his navel.

"Ah, fuck—" he echoes, because they hurt.

And he's used to it.

Gods, this feels good.

"They're not—usually that stiff until after Khajiit has been inside a while," he mutters. It doesn't stop him from thrusting, though, without asking first if Ruby is ready for that.

Nope, he does not need to ask, Ruby is so ready, godsdamn. "I'm used to it. Keep, ah, keep going—"

Qanar-dar purrs affirmatively. His face relaxes and but for the steady, staccato thrusts, one could confuse it for meditation. Eyes still shut, he flutters one hand exploratively over Ruby’s chest, pouncing on the nipple as he passes it.

"Fuck," he repeats, pulling Qanar-dar's hips closer in with his legs. His mind becomes distantly aware of the fact that a couple of people are walking into the baths and having some kind of reaction to what they're doing. He is very, very glad to give them a show.

Qanar-dar opens one eye to glance in the direction of those entering, and the briefest thought of propriety flits through his head before he shrugs, sighs, and returns to his work. They were here first, after all. An electric bristle arcs up his back as he considers that they are watching, and his steady, nonchalant thrusts turn erratic.

"Perhaps Khajiit isn't the only one who smelled a mate," he murmurs with a grin.

"Oh? Are you thinking of inviting them?"

Well, now he is. "To watch, certainly. To participate? Qanar-dar requires more wooing before he shares up his toys."

"Oh am I your toy, now?"

That had been intended as metaphorical. For about half a second, he feels very bad about it—and then the scent takes back over and he doesn’t feel anything except that delicious tingling along the length of his cock, and no amount of politesse could possibly outweigh it. “Yes,” he growls, with the slightest hint of sulking at the question. “My toy.”

Ohhhhh that's hot. "Then use me," he says, pulling himself up and then back down.

(Gods those barbs are making him see stars.)

He bares his fangs in the direction of the onlookers, halfway between a smile and a threat, before pulling back and rotating his hip to show off the penetration a bit better. “No need to watch from so far away. Khajiit can’t lunge very far when he’s busy in a rut.” His voice is low, abnormally low even to Ruby’s ears, a clear artifact of his chemically induced arousal, and laced with challenge. One of the onlookers backs up, but two of the others hesitantly glance at each other, silently debating.

Fuck this is hot. He's definitely going to give them a show, too, and even moan louder than he normally would, why not? Anything for his audience.

The noises send Qanar-dar into a fit of growling, purring, and nuzzling whatever body parts are within range of his face. The smell interferes horribly with his ability to concentrate, and thank the moon for it, because— “Khajiit knows a few spells for helping wayward Men find their manners,” he murmurs to Ruby. His eyes don’t stray from their guests as he speaks, but nor does he slow down from thrusting. “They are lucky Khajiit has greater priorities.”

"Please don't mind control random people, Qanar-dar," he murmurs back, and then one particular thrust rakes his insides bad enough he cries out and he entirely forgets what they were talking about.

He grins evilly. “Oh, Ruby is worried for them? Keep Khajiit sufficiently distracted and they should be safe. Spells are very hard to cast mid-coitus.”

"Your wish is my command." He'll let Qanar-dar be the one to worry about giving the onlookers a show. What he'll do instead is ride the khajiit harder than he's ever been ridden before. All of his instincts around kissing are out the window but he can, also, bite. Biting is a thing he can do, while burying his face in Qanar-dar's neck and pulling him closer.

The Khajiit makes a strangled noise of delight.

“Khajiit thinks,” he pants, “that Ruby should try harder. Khajiit has plenty of focus still!” He mutters the opening on an incantation as a playful threat, though his concentration is definitely shot right now.

He bites harder.

Playfully, he hisses and bucks harder. The effort is endearing, even if the guard hairs of Qanar’s pelt prevent it from hurting beyond a sort of dull pressure. The guests are forgotten, for the moment. Now he just wants to give a sporting lover a suitably sporting performance. He digs a claw into the man’s chest and slices downward.

Wait. Heck. Nords and such don’t have guard hairs. He just drew blood!