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The warm, dry wind that blew across the savannah, swirling up dust from amid the depths of the knee-high grasses, went largely unnoticed on this morning. A small, rudimentary camp sat there just below the ridgeline of the hill, low enough that it would not hold a silhouette against the pale sky when viewed from underneath - and dyed in the appropriate colors of earth and grass so that someone from the other side might miss it unless they knew what they were looking for.

The effort had been exerted to ensure that it would stay hidden here, too, save for those specifically invited. The previous morning had begun with a breathless courier running his way across the grasses to each of the two main powers here in the savannah, delivering missives as well as a little bit more to those who headed the groups. Now the three gathered here within this command tent, itself of middling size perhaps a bit smaller than either of the chieftains would prefer, alongside a select few of each of their honor guard - who bristled every time their chief's voice rose again.

Jameson thought it would help, organizing this little council behind the scenes, without their knowledge. The golden retriever tried to hide his nervousness behind paws clasped in front of his muzzle, amber eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. He had thought, had hoped_that arranging the meeting here would be a good first step: just beyond the indistinct land border of the two tribes marked by the twisting progress of one of the few streams cutting through the grasses, particularly on _one side of that border while the camp and supplies came from the other, yet guarded equally by both. But the longer the foreigner sat here trying to will his tail to peel away from where it tucked around his waist, the more he realized this might have been a mistake. Both of them to his knowledge still expected some unknown third party to show up to the meeting and help mediate, but some part of Jameson knew that still thinking this was an insult to each of them. It wasn't a complicated ploy, after all.

He glanced to one side of the table. There stood Dræval, chieftain of the land dragons to the west: tall and wide of shoulder, spiky stone-like protrusions jutting out from leather-tough scales only thinly covered in places by the simple cloth and hide dress of his tribe. Calm and levelheaded yet stern and steady, he led his people with confidence and determination and they followed that kind of strength with a devotion that often seemed instinctive.

That strength of his carried through into more personal matters as well. Jameson's eyes drifted downwards towards the dragon's simple loincloth, bound at the waste and nowhere else. It swung and swayed with his movements while he continued to argue with the other chieftain across the table, occasionally resting back to obscure yet outline the firm weight and heft underneath, jiggling forward and then back again. Occasionally a flash of the smoother, suppler pale tan flesh beneath his scales showed through from the side, slightly shadowed beyond his muscular thigh.

The retriever snapped his attention upright at a loud bark and slam from the other chieftain bringing his meaty paws down on the table in the center of the room, bearing a mostly ignored map of the region that the foreign researcher had brought from his own stores. Inwardly he shuddered at the treatment, yet tried to reassure himself with the knowledge that that was just a copy instead of the master - but still, supplies could be hard to come by out here, and that particular weight of paper was expensive - for the way that fresh claw marks gouged through the material as well as the surface of the table underneath.

Thick, dense claws, almost more suitably talons, jutting out from heft paws that could snap a tree branch just by squeezing around it. He had seen it happen, as well as many other feats of strength, dexterity, and otherwise so exemplified by the - he shuddered at the description given to him by his supervisors, and other researchers in the area - brutish, barbaric hyenas. This was Kalti, also tall and wide of shoulder, muzzle stout and solid upon a thick neck bunching down through titanic muscles towards a chest that the smaller golden retriever could barely bridge with his arms outstretched. Far more hotheaded and brash, Kalti tended to let his thoughts and emotions guide him rather than the other way around like Dræval did, and his tribe followed suit. Loud, energetic, perhaps overeager, but they certainly knew how to enjoy themselves.

And others. Now that the hyena had calmed down a bit, rounded ears flicking back and then forward again, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned forward - and caused his own loincloth to swing precariously forward and show the plump sheath and sizeable sack underneath, both tufted throughout with dense, tight fur thick enough that Jameson could bury his nose in it. The power that Kalti put through in his expression and behavior similarly made itself known in his lovemaking, this fierce, unbridled energy and involvement that thrummed through anyone he touched, and-

Another slam yet again shocked him back to the present, his ears flattening against his head and tail curling tight against his body. Dræval leaned precariously over the table, one hand spread across the surface and slicing ragged scars through the material of the map, loincloth again swinging forward ahead of the weight pushing against it. This time, though, Jameson had neither time nor energy to let himself get lost in that dense, humid space, since the hyena across the table made the same move and pulled himself close, black lips curling back in a vicious snarl. Brown eyes caught green, twisted horns faced brutal fangs thicker than the length of Jameson's thumb.

A taloned, scaled hand reached back towards where the knife normally hung by the belt, while that other clawed paw stretched up and back for the toothed club carried by the hyena tribe. Each came back empty, though Jameson breathed no sigh of relief: he had had to pull each chieftain off to the side and personally beg them to listen to him, knowing that his stance and relationship with each would hopefully carry considerable weight over their decisions.

Dræval had scowled and huffed, thick smoke puffing from flared nostrils; Kalti's entire snout had scrunched up again in that way it tended to, but reluctantly both had agreed on their own, in exchange for another soft, sweet kiss from the smaller dog. Seeing both of them here and now turning those looks on each other, unmitigated by the layer of comfort and affection he shared with each individually. Jameson swallowed again, pulled in a breath, and balled up his fists.

"I - stop. Okay. Stop. Stop. Both of you." Two pairs of eyes flashed over to him, glares immediately softening. He felt himself wilt, the words in his mind muddling to mush; the dog closed his mouth, opened it, closed it again, tried to gesture with his paws, started to feel dizzy - until Dræval lifted that hand from the table, fingers spread.

"Our ambassador is right," the dragon said in that cool, rich voice of his. He took in a breath through wide nostrils, held it, then let it trickle back out between slightly parted lips, a technique which Jameson now recognized after so much personal time spent alongside him as a way to calm himself and steady his focus. "We should keep our disagreements until our mediator arrives." Then those emerald eyes flicked over towards Jameson again. "Unless he is already in our presence, that is."

All of the other eyes flashed over to where Jameson now stood, these two familiar pairs of the chieftains alongside those of their few chosen guards. He gave a sign with each paw to either side, though noticed that the others waited for their respective chief to mirror the gesture before standing down.

"Yeah, okay," the golden retriever admitted, reaching up to adjust where his glasses sat atop his snout. "I knew it was a long shot. I thought that the only way you two could reasonably ever face each other in civil conversation-"

Kalti again patted over his shoulder in trying to find his war-club. "Not for long..."

"-was if I was the one to ask. I dislike that I had to do so in secret, but - forgive me, but you're both so proud."

"Of course." Dræval straightened up and tossed his head, the thick mane around his shoulders and neck ruffling with the movement. "It's an important facet of our culture. I appreciate that you noticed, and I'm not surprised you did so. You're quite bright for a foreigner."

The compliment stirred a flame of warmth in his chest, though this was soon buried beneath the pressure of the situation. "Look," Jameson went on, "Literally everybody involved in this dispute thinks it's stupid. It's just both of your tribes are too... too..." Stuck-up. Self-absorbed. Thickheaded. Stubborn. "...steeped in your own ways to be willing to take the first step to resolve it."

"As we should be." The dragon nodded towards the vicious hyena across from him, who snarled yet again. Thick cords of muscle strained out beneath smooth skin and fur. "The root cause is clearly within _their_domain. We are guiltless."

Kalti pounded the table again. "As if!" he barked, jabbing a sharp-clawed finger towards the dragon. "We agreed that our border is where the river runs. Not where it ran last summer, not where it will run on the next turn of the moon. We were wholly within our boundary. _We_are guiltless for your scouting party who foolishly attacked us, on our own territory, and-"

"Your territory? The floodplains immediately surrounding the river valley are holy ground and you know that; borders be damned-"

"So you admit you trespassed!"

"I admit that you trespassed on what should be sacred for both of our peoples, and-"

Jameson tried his best to smack the table like the others did, but had to do it twice more before one of Kalti's ears flicked over his way. The hyena looked at him with concern mixed with confusion, and Dræval's saurian snout followed soon after.

"Stop!" he cried. "Would you two stop? This isn't getting anywhere and both of you know it. This... incursion happened, what, two months ago?"

"Three-" Dræval began, only for Kalti to speak over him: "Three turns of the moon."

"And your tribes have been trying to maintain this senseless cold war for that time. Neither of you are encroaching on the other's territory; you're keeping your distance, you're avoiding known scouting paths, _neither_of you have come within half a day of the border since it happened - so where's the issue?"

Silence fell over the tent for a moment, save for the wind rustling through the grass outside. Jameson shook his head.

"You both maintain these rich, beautiful cultures, and having seen into those cultures, closely and intimately, I can tell each of you that you share quite a few similarities. The importance you each place in native crafts and artwork; the strength of your combat, both physically as well as logistically; the way you each prepare and prefer your culinary arts; your more... personal, intimate traditions and rituals..."

Yet again it was Dræval who spoke first, lifting his hand and spreading his fingers in that smooth, placating gesture. "My love," he rumbled, catch both Jameson's ears as well as Kalti's. The hyena glanced between the two of them, shocked. "I know and understand that there is someone within his tribe who also stakes a claim on your heart and body. Do not think that I have an issue with that. I understand it is unusual within your home culture, but in my tribe we believe that love is a living thing of beauty to be shared as fully and freely as possible."

Cold dread gripped the back of Jameson's neck and sank into the pit of his stomach. His mouth went dry; he looked to Kalti, now staring at Dræval across from him.

"Someone in..." The hyena frowned, thick fangs poking out from underneath his lips. "Jameson. My heart. He is your other lover? Naturally I could tell as well that you held a treasure with the dragon tribe, and that in itself earned much leniency for them from myself-"

"Leniency?" Dræval leaned in again, though this time more in curiosity than aggression. "You took pity on us because we have fallen for each other?"

Kalti raised his paws. "No pity. More... consideration. He is not from here, and he does not carry the same prejudices and expectations that we do."

"Don't you lump me in with you-"

"Don't you get ahead of yourself. For someone who prides himself on his level head, you sure have a short temper, Dræval." Kalti tossed his head and once more crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Jameson is a welcome visitor to my tribe and our camp, as he is to my intimacy and affection. And I am proud to proclaim that. But if you and your tribe would only continue to..."

The retriever tried to keep a hold on himself throughout the conversation, but each time one of them glanced his way he felt his hackles stiffen out a little further and his tail pin between his legs. So many nights he had spent wrapped up against one of the chieftains or the other, mind bouncing back and forth between just how he had found himself in that situation after all these months spent out in the savannah, and then wondering again as to just where any of it might lead in the future. This cold war between the tribes had gone on for quite a while with no apparent end in sight, and the deeper he found himself involved with both of them, the harder it became to predict a peaceful end.

So when Kalti smacked the table again and swept the map all the way off so that it billowed into a torn, ragged pile at the foot of the tent wall, when Dræval tossed his head back and puffed another billow of smoke out of his nose, when they each leaned perilously in towards one another with teeth bared and muscles bulging, it was all the small canine could do not to break down.

And so he tried to call out to them again, and broke down anyway. His voice cracked when he shouted for them to stop, ears instantly perking and flicking his way towards the voice that both of them held in such high regard. Tears blurred the edges of his vision, yet the more he tried to blink them away the closer they encroached. Both of the chieftains, both of his partners - if he was allowed to call them that; most of the time he deliberately avoided thinking about the issue - stared back at him, eyes wide, mouths open. Again and again Jameson tried to push the words through, but still they refused to come.

He reached up and ground the heel of his palm against one of his eyes, then wiped at his nose with the other. The tent smelled of dust and grass and sweat, both of their unique, familiar aromas mixing together in the warm air here. Normally it would have comforted him, but now admit everything else this just served to stoke the flames higher; he sniffled again, felt the pressure in his nose and the back of his throat, and half-coughed out another sob.

"I just..." The researcher gestured at the now empty table gouged with clawmarks. At some point all of the shaking and rattling had knocked over one of the cups at the corner, so now the sticky orange alcohol left a sheen across the wood. "I just don't know what to do anymore. I - came out here to study each of your cultures, ended up getting in way over my head with both of you, and now... now I'm trying to resolve this, and it's just falling apart instead, and - I hate seeing both of you at each other's throats like this when I'm just trying my best, and it's so obvious to me, and I just can't understand why neither of you - are..."

Through foggy vision he looked up at Dræval first, then over at Kalti. Jameson wiped at his eyes again. He splayed his arms out at his sides, then dropped them right back down in defeat.

"I just don't know what to do. I was hoping it wasn't going to come out like this, about how I'm - with... both of you..." He sniffled. "Since I want to, but part of me tells me I can't - and then the logical part knows that it'd be a fool's errand to try to maintain that amid this shortsighted war you're both running, for God only knows why, and I just... I'm so tired, and I don't know what to do, and I just don't get why, but I _know_at the same time that that's just a clash of culture, and-"

He jumped as a warm, gentle touch slowly spread out across his shoulder. Jameson opened his eyes to see Dræval there, leaning over the table with one arm stretched out towards him. A moment later Kalti did the same, reaching across to fold the retriever's paw in his much smaller one.

"Jameson," the dragon rumbled. Kalti glanced up at him, then back down to the dog. "Starlight. Would you - leave us, for a while? I believe there are certain matters the two of us should discuss," said with a shared look to the hyena, "between just ourselves."

Kalti nodded towards the guards around the room. "All of you as well." Once more the dragons looked to their chief for confirmation, and he gave it. One by one they shuffled out, showing the utmost of respect to their fellows along with the heaviest of silent disdain for the others, and finally left the three alone with the tent.

Dræval gave a little smile. Kalti inclined his head, consternation and care there as well. Jameson sniffled again, wiped at his nose, took a moment to catch his breath and steady himself, and then nodded.

"Right," he said. "I understand. I have some - other things I can attend to. I'll... leave you be."

And so he left.

~ ~ ~

That left the two chieftains standing across from the gouged, damaged table between them, the tension in the room having tightened and tautened in a way quite different from what either had expected. Each time one of them moved, the other froze up in anticipation; when one opened their mouth the other closed their own, not wanting to talk over who they had recently discovered as their lover's other; and on and on the silence went, simmering underneath itself.

Like to both of their surprise, Kalti was the first to break under the pressure. The hyena straightened up, sighed, and reached up to scratch at a spot behind one of his thick ears.

"So," he began, voice much softer than it had been during the discussion, "how did you-?"

"With Jameson?"

"Yes."

Dræval tilted his head back, looking up through the smoke-hole cut into the apex of the tent. "It was... I do not recall which of our tribes he visited first."

"Is it important?"

"Perhaps. Either way, it has led him to where we are now, and even amid our... struggles..." The dragon looked back down at his fellow chief. "He has brought much into my life. When he first arrived I thought of him as nothing more than the usual foreigner: loud, abrasive, overcurious, inquisitive... disrespectful, I assumed. But the questions he asked differed from the others, and I could hear in his voice as well as feel in his presence that this was genuine curiosity and interest..."

The glimmer in his eyes, the smile on his face lingering beyond his conscious awareness, the genuine awe with which he looked at everything. There was none of the disdain or distaste that most foreigners hold for our differing culture, but instead a legitimate wonder. He inquired about our weaving methods, our traditions, our written language.

_ _

And so I showed him. I took him through my tribe, introducing him to the various methods we employ in weaving thread and cloth, from the harvest to the preparation to the final product. I showed him how we mix our dyes and pigments, and where and how we retrieve the base materials and draw out the color. We listened to the ritual songs that night of the full moon, and though I could see that he, too, wanted to dance, he recognized that he did not know the proper forms and figures, and as such held himself back out of respect.

_ _

He stayed the night with us then, and continued to do so for some time. Bit by bit, day by day, I could see his interest continue to blossom further, encompassing the whole of my people as well as our culture. It was a natural progression of events, then...

_ _

"... and I think that was it," the dragon finished, now leaning back against one of the tent's support stakes. When he opened his eyes and looked forward again he saw that Kalti had straightened up and now watched him with rapt curiosity and attention. "His respect, his demeanor, his... _presence,_I suppose. So unlike anything else bred within my tribe, so different, yet still so inviting. He enjoys our tales and our myths, and he efficiently extracts the underlying morals despite knowing hardly more than a smattering of our language - though he does learn more every day."

"When he is there," Kalti interjected, "he practices with the young ones?"

The two shared another look. Dræval cracked a smile. "Yes. They love him. His ears, his tail, his fur. Our garb, our dress, is not designed to be worn by someone so... smooth and soft, yet on him it looks..."

"I can imagine. Ours is not designed for someone so slight of stature."

"I would hesitate to call him slight..."

"Yes, but you have seen my people. As well as your own!" The hyena flexed an arm near his head, then bounced with cackling laughter. The sound caught Dræval off-guard at first, though before long he discovered the urge to laugh along. "Ah, I am unsurprised..."

Dræval tilted his head. "Yes? And as for yourself?"

The other chieftain rolled the thought around for a moment, then idly shifted the fit of his loincloth over his waist. For a moment he lost himself in thoughts and memories, then recalled that Dræval still stood here across from him. He chuckled, shook his head, ran his tongue over brutally sharp fangs, and then shrugged.

"A similar tale. Jameson had made himself known to _my_tribe some time before, but his visits tended to be sporadic at first - I think now I know why. Everyone regarded him with... as you said, curiosity. Interest. We were not so wary; he never presented a threat. It was obvious he held some fear for us, with our culture so much more... active, brutal, _energetic_than his own, but also as you said, there was and is a genuine desire to learn more there..."

And that was what drove everything forward. When visiting he adopted the dress as suitable for a foreigner, modesty warring with his desire to treat us with respect. He shied away from our games, our tests of strength, our wrestling, but he always takes notes, always watches. For the first time, ever, here was a foreigner who sought to legitimately learn more, instead of gawk for entertainment.

_ _

So I too wanted to show him the depths of our culture. You mentioned myths and stories. We shared this, too. We told him why the moon grows and wanes, why the stars shift so slightly overhead with the seasons. Long nights spent awake around the fire looking up at the sky overhead, him telling how the stars are barely visible where he comes from. I ask how his people find their way at night; he shrugs.

_ _

When you called him Starlight, I felt something... shift in me. I call him this as well.

_ _

We held a festival for the season when he was with us. Knowing his personal interest in the matter and his desire to learn more, I strove so very hard to ensure everything would be perfect. The practices, the exhibitions, the food, the singing. Perhaps I am too proud, and expect too much: I pushed my people too hard, and bit by bit our festival fell apart around me. I thought it would be the end, but Jameson-

_ _

"He..." The hyena swallowed again. He reached out to scrawl shapes into the dusty floor where he now sat, Dræval sitting by the foot of the table a short distance away. "Reached up towards me. Gently - touched my muzzle. Told me that it was alright, that he was enjoying the festival and everything he was learning and, more importantly, the time he was spending with me." Here he looked up to the dragon, who for the first time in months returned his glance with steady respect. "It humiliates me to admit, especially to _you_of all people, but then he - took charge. Reorganized things, moved everyone around. They all looked to me for confirmation, but before long he had managed to get everything running again, as though nothing had happened."

"He has a mind for logistics. Perhaps it is a foreign thing."

"Perhaps it is a Jameson thing."

"Yes. Perhaps."

For a moment silence held between the two of them. The wind blew again; there was the gentle whisper of conversation outside the tent soon blooming into lighthearted laughter, but then nothing more. Kalti closed his eyes and sniffed at the air: there was mostly just himself, bright and familiar, and then the sharp, rich scent of Dræval here across from him, similarly masculine and imposing. In between and underneath, layered along both of them, was Jameson's as well - completely different in its palette for species as well as everything else, sticking out like one of the trees along the savannah plains, a pleasant spot of shade amid the open monotony.

"He spent the night with our tribe," Dræval suddenly began again. He reached forward and added some of his own scrawls alongside Kalti's marks in the dirt. "After some time learning our culture and people. As I said, it was a natural progression. He developed a taste for the alcohol we brew, but_that_ night... neither of us had had enough to influence us."

Kalti smirked. He knew where this was going. The same thing had happened between himself and the retriever as well.

"I could see it in his eyes, and hear it on his voice when he spoke with me. This was the night of the new moon, with the stars bright in the sky overhead. I had traced out constellations for him, and the delight in his voice when he shared the tales from his own culture... it was what we both desired. We - shared ourselves with one another, that night beneath the stars."

Dræval glanced away. Was that a blush warming his scales? He looked absurd, this huge, bulky dragon with spikes protruding from his bared shoulders and biceps, avoiding eye contact and stumbling over himself as he told his story. Kalti shifted how he sat, his own thoughts beginning to wander while he listened.

"...And then again," the other chieftain went on. "And again, and again. There in the warm grass of the plains, him underneath me. Then myself on my back and him on my lap... I could tell he had wanted to touch me, like that, for quite a while. Have you ever felt hunger like that, through another's paws and fingers alone?"

The hyena inclined his head. "I have. And it was from our shared starlight, just the same. Our first was influenced - you remember, my tribe once sent yours some barrels of our brew before these difficulties began?"

"I do. Very... heady."

"Yes. I could smell it on his breath, and I am certain he could mine. It was late at night, and the rest of the festival had died down-"

"This was at the festival?"

"It was. He was wobbling, swaying like a boat on the river. Warm. Put his paws all over me, along-" Kalti sat up and touched at his neck, shoulders, pecs, and belly. "Here. Here, here. And here. I was surprised, but let him. And then he reached lower. I was... anticipatory, I suppose, of his touch. Anxious, perhaps. But he wanted to, and so I let him. I sat back along one of the seats, let him lift my cloth..." Thinking about it made him squirm again. He shifted his legs and crossed them again, then tried his best to surreptitiously move his loincloth to hide the growing stir there. "He was..."

Dræval scoffed. "Sloppy?"

Yet again Kalti shared a look with him. A faint smile quirked the corner of the dragon's mouth; he returned it.

"That is a good word for it. Not knowing if he really wished me to return the favor, I led him to where he was to sleep, yet he insisted on staying with me - so again I let him. And in the morning, thinking he might regret it, I left him alone... but he found me by the river early, and repeated it all over again while I was bathing. In fact, he caught me before I had bathed, saying he wanted to familiarize himself with my scent. He knew pieces of my culture, my dress, and my language, but not my scent."

"And so?"

"And so I indulged him. I painted him head to toe, and bore him down along the soft sand of the riverbank there. Three times, with him just becoming... hungrier after each." Kalti breathed another chuckle and reached up to touch at the memory of a feeling along his lip. "I think he might have bruised my tongue. Is that possible?"

This time it was Dræval who laughed first, with Kalti following soon after. The hyena stirred again, fully aware that his loincloth now tented up over quite a firm support underneath, and there was something about sitting here with the same chieftain who had just a few moments ago been the greatest enemy he could ever conceive, and... he noticed amid the laughter that the dragon showed much the same evidence.

Dræval noticed Kalti looking. His laughter faltered for a moment, then continued on, slightly forced. The cloth twitched, shifted, pulsed upward, and showed the thick, stiff base of his arousal there, with huge heavy balls spreading out across the dirt floor underneath. Once again the hyena's mind wandered, back towards the night of the festival: Jameson dropping shakily to his knees before him, paws slipping down beneath his cloth until it fell away around his ankles, fingers stretching, seeking, wrapping as much as they could around Kalti's hanging sack. He was a double-handful for the smaller retriever, each one filling an entire cupped palm, and here he could see that Dræval's was about the same as his own...

...while the dragon across from him, under the guise of wiping his nose carefully on the back of his hand, made sure to get a peek of his own. When Kalti leaned to the side his loincloth fell away, showing both the hyena's full, heavy sack - along with the ruff of thick, dark fur running down the middle - as well as the first half of his erection there. There had been many nights throughout the years where the dragon chieftain had "compared" his own to another in his tribe, and to his delight he had most of the time come out on top, in a few interpretations of the word.

But never had he done the same for a hyena, much less the other chieftain. He swallowed again, noticed that now Kalti had noticed _him_looking, and averted his gaze. Still, though, he couldn't help but give another twitch and throb, his body charging right on ahead into the pool of sweet, heated arousal, already muddying the tracks of his mind.

"Perhaps, we could..." It was hard to think. The dragon straightened his back where he sat, swallowed, drew in a breath, held it, let it back out after a moment between sharp fangs. "Give it a try. For him."

Kalti's ears twitched in recognition, though still the hyena did what Dræval knew they did best, and played dumb instead. When he reached up to scratch behind one of his ears it seemed he did so deliberately so that his loincloth shifted again.

"Give what a try?"

Now Dræval glanced over towards the door of the tent. The voices outside had mostly gone quiet, but when he lifted his nose and sniffed at the air now all he could perceive was... "An... alliance." ...hyena, rich and strong, intoxicating. A bit acrid, definitely earthy, with a certain astringent bitterness underneath it, but still he tried to lean surreptitiously forward while he spoke, to put himself closer to the source and draw more deeply of it. "I wouldn't want to interrupt what I have with Jameson, after all, nor would I wish the same for you."

Kalti sat up. "Likewise," he rumbled. "Love like this is pure and true, and something to be shared as widely as it can reach."

That surprised the dragon. He shifted, bringing his legs underneath him and bracing his hands against the floor to push himself to his feet. "So he was right. There is something on which we can agree."

Kalti remained where he sat after Dræval had stood up. The dragon turned partially to the side to reach for the cup there on the edge of the table, and took a drink from it while deliberately remaining like that - to provide a clear, unobstructed view along the underside of his loincloth, hanging fully forward along his still-twitching arousal where it protruded away from his body. Then after another moment the hyena stirred and stood as well, standing closer to Dræval than he ever had before. With a flash of amusement and a little bit of annoyance the dragon noticed that the two stood perfectly level with one another.

There in front of him the hyena slowly reached a paw forward. Dræval stiffened up, expecting that paw to brush his loincloth aside just as Jameson had done to his own so many times before - but instead there was the gentle clink of stoneware along the wooden table, and in another moment Kalti lifted the cup to his lips and downed the rest of the drink. Then he looked down into it, swirled it around, shrugged, and placed it back on the table.

"There could be another, if you were interested."

"Another?"

Brown eyes flashed up from where they perused the remnants. "Something else on which we agree. I think we should set aside our differences, for him, and instead see about..." Now that paw came forward, fingers spreading smoothly, surprisingly easily, between the scale-spikes protruding from Dræval's haunches. He felt the touch at a bit of a distance through the thick armor-like plates there, though still Kalti pressed in enough to ensure that he did feel it. His thumb teased up along the waist of his loincloth. "Enjoying what we share."

The dragon leaned slightly back as the hyena leaned in. Now he could feel his heat as well, radiating out from his loins like a low, humid fog from the river on a hot morning. Dræval flicked his tongue out across his lips: the fact that Kalti was suggesting this at all meant that he felt strongly enough about it to push through his normal boundaries and reluctance, as harmful to his pride as that might have been.

And that demanded respect. The dragon tilted his head and returned the touch, long claws teasing little lines through thick fur just as they had done to the dirt floor a few moments ago. Kalti shifted and shivered, though tried to hide it. Despite himself, he gave a little smirk and another puff of smoke. Kalti's nostrils flared with the burn, then to his surprise the hyena breathed in that little cloud.

Dræval tilted his head, hand resting more firmly against the hyena's haunch there. Bit by bit he loosened the waist of his loincloth, letting it hang forward along the backside of his twitching arousal now pressed up against his own, separated only by those two thin drapes of fabric; each throb vibrated through the other chief and into himself, then right back again. He licked his lips again.

"How about..." And here he draped his other arm over Kalti's shoulder, feeling thick muscle and unforgiving strength there. "We share each other, then?"

A little growl rippled in the hyena's throat, a sound Dræval normally recognized as aggression and discomfort but here, now, took on a much different note. He couldn't quite place it, but there was just something _different_about it - like how Kalti's scent had similarly shifted, now with his loincloth drifting away and falling to the dirt floor underneath them, leaving him standing there naked against Dræval's body.

So the dragon did the same. He tilted his hips just a bit to push himself against the hyena's paw, then felt the little movement of his finger, the catch of his claw - part of him flared at the realization that Kalti had just cut the waist of his loincloth - and then the freedom of it falling away. Warmth stirred between the two of them, the same humid, simmering warmth that each had felt from their shared lover so many times already: arousal along desire, intoxicating enough to push right past thoughts of reluctance or inhibition, this sudden irresistible want to keep on going.

It felt natural, then, when both of Kalti's paws slid up along Dræval's shoulders, feeling over the spikes and scales to come in along his jaws. It felt natural when the hyena leaned in and pressed his mouth to the other chief's, then when his tongue came in and curled around his, and when he sucked back along there. Dræval swallowed, at once shying away from and pushing himself deeper into the embrace, this coupling of which he had never once thought would occur: he felt himself tease the hyena back against the side of the table and reach back to it for support, turning his head one way and then the other, dancing back against Kalti's tongue, diving into his mouth in response.

Hot breaths puffed out from lips parted around one another, now closing, now sucking, now breaking apart again. Dræval swallowed, throat sticky with the other chieftain's saliva, coating his mouth just as it dribbled along the scales of his chin; he could smell his own familiar, comfortable musk, yet it seemed Kalti's had begun to prevail over it, especially as the hyena reached a paw down to wipe and smear himself against him.

In a break between the kiss Dræval finally took the chance to look down at just what he had to deal with, and Kalti did the same. Chests heaving in rhythmic panting, each chieftain shifted a bit, swallowed, twitched, throbbed: Dræval's draconic length rested up against the scales of his lower belly, full sack shifting with the change in heat. Smooth skin like soft, luxurious leather there, one of Kalti's paws coming down to get a feel for him; Dræval tilted his head back and shivered, the touch immediately pulling another throb out of him, while he investigated for himself as well. Thick sheath, thicker shaft there between the hyena's legs, hanging heavily out and away from his body, reddish-pink flesh glistening with a natural wet coating, canine in shape complete with the half-formed knot teasing out from underneath the skin there. His sheath continued downward from there, the thick skin and fur pouching down around his own sack as well, the expected ruff of pubic fur jutting out right in between.

He smirked again, then let Kalti adjust how he lay against the table. He reached forward as well, ran his thumb along that fur, then hooked it upwards to squeeze and touch at the hyena's sheath. Kalti continued his explorations as well, fingers once again taking on a surprisingly gentle touch as he trailed up along Dræval's shaft, peeled it away from his body, then wrapped around there. He squeezed, and stroked, and leaned back in for another kiss - which melted into another, and another, and yet another, now with Dræval doing the same to him. Bit by bit the dragon worked himself forward and down against Kalti until the hyena finally he hopped up onto it, the seasoned wood creaking gently beneath his weight.

From there it was easy to brace himself against the large hyena's waist and lean in, to squeeze the wet heat of his length up between his legs so that it poked at the underside of his balls. Kalti gasped, sucking the breath right out of Dræval's lungs, then pulled back, swallowed, and paused for a moment, staring at him with immense hunger on his muzzle. Neither said anything: nostrils twitched and flared in the mixing of their scents, rich, sharp dragon melding into low, earthy hyena, coming together into something new, and bright, and intoxicating, and deeply enticing.

Then, still maintaining eye contact, Draeval slipped that paw away from Kalti's shaft, brought it to his muzzle, and pressed it against his mouth and nose. Slowly he drew in another breath from there, ensuring that the hyena could see. The knowledge of that move just seemed to make the hyena throb again, interest and arousal spiking; Dræval smirked behind his hand, then pursed his lips, spat a glob of saliva there in his palm, and reached down to smear that underneath the hyena's sack, right where his tail met his body.

Kalti shivered with the sensation, legs reflexively spreading further. When he opened his eyes again Dræval was waiting for him, stroking himself slowly in that same saliva-slickened paw, angling himself in towards the other chief's tailhole.

"This arrangement is agreeable with you?" Dræval rumbled, prodding forward. Pressure started to mount into warmth; he poked forward, felt the muscled pucker squeeze back against him, then twitch and tighten.

The hyena chuckled, sliding himself down a bit in response. "For now, yes. However, I am - open to negotiation..."

Draeval shivered again, paws tightening there at the other chief's waist, holding him in place, pressing forward... sinking in. A deep, sweet sensation rippled through both of them, jaws tightening and then falling open with a little gasping sigh. He had had plenty of experience before, and something he had learned along the way was that this felt a little bit different with each and every partner: in Jameson Dræval felt intense hunger and desire almost insatiable caught there within the dog's smaller frame, while with Kalti here against him there was curiosity and interest, more like a stone outcrop against which the water of the rushing river crashed.

There was strength, there was tension, there was still that same deep, intense need, squeezing around him the further he pressed. Sweet, slick heat all around him, Kalti tilting his head back with a soft sigh; rings of muscle tightened along the dragon's arousal while he pushed forward, deeper and deeper with the hyena's heavy sack draping down along his shaft, until finally he pressed up against those wide haunches, buried wholly in humid wet heat. Then they each let out a panting sigh, shivered, and met each other's eyes again. Still Kalti twitched against his own belly, clear pre oozing out across earth-toned fur.

The hyena smirked. "I would not like to meet you in fair combat."

"No?" Dræval bore down over him, pushing him more steadily onto the table, and began to tug his hips slowly backward. There was that sensation of tight suction again, Kalti squeezing back around him, wanting to keep him inside. "I think it would be a - fun test of strength."

"Dexterity, more like." The other chieftain propped himself up on his elbows and squeezed his legs around Dræval's waist, tugging him right back in with a wet shlrk. "Deftness. Strength is not all."

"So it isn't. But I think we are evenly matched."

"Perhaps."

Another tug and thrust, soon followed by another, and yet another. Kalti bit into his lower lip to keep his composure from faltering, then breathed a gentle sigh of relief when Dræval was the first to close his eyes and let his head roll backwards, mouth open. He twitched as the dragon brought another hand up amid his rhythm, this one sliding slowly up along his belly and chest, then fingers spreading within the thick mane around his shoulders; then Dræval moved his focus over towards his shoulder and the exterior of his arm, where his smooth, soft scales hardened into those thick armor-plates, then jutted up into stone-like protrusions.

He had seen them before, so many times, and always wondered in the back of his head what they might feel like. Already he had learned that so much of Kalti was so much softer than expected - and then the chieftain clenched again, tightening Dræval in place just as he jetted out another spurt of pre across his belly - but this met his assumption dead on. So too did the size of the hyena here underneath him, other hand coming up to brace against Kalti's opposite shoulder and hold him there, then both slipping down along his chiseled chest and belly again: tight cords of muscles slipped and pulled beneath skin and fur in rhythm with his own thrusts and Kalti's responses.

Naturally there still lingered some of their familiar competition and rivalry among everything, with Kalti regularly sitting up and taking control from the dragon between his legs. Dræval tossed his head back and growled with pleasure each time that happened, holding himself still while the hyena worked himself down against his lap, faster, harder - until he inevitably sank back again to let the other chieftain take over, paws pressing down into the table by his shoulders, lips curled back in a hungry snarl, thick strands of drool hanging down and splattering across smooth scales. Each time one of the chieftains put themselves a little further into it the other responded in turn, until both bristled at each other once more, muscles tense, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed.

Then Kalti swung his head forward, took in another breath through flared nostrils, and felt Dræval's mouth meet his again. One paw came up from where it rested around the dragon's thick shoulders to keep his muzzle in place there, the hyena sucking hungrily at his tongue and lips. Again and again he tried to pull the breath right out of Kalti's lungs, hot air puffing into his own mouth and then spreading out across coarse fur; the dragon grunted again, moaned into his maw, swallowed, swirled his tongue, sucked back, then bit gently down on his lip.

Then a little harder, and then harder still. Kalti moved back from the kiss a bit though kept his mouth against Dræval's, inwardly loving the sensation of thick, brutish fangs clacking against his own, with all the slick stickiness of mixed drool dripping down along his jaw. Now all he could smell was both of them, wrapped together into this high, humid haze that coated everything about them, sex and desire and strength and an imminent, approaching need. Dræval shuddered again, pulled himself nearly back to the tapered tip of his shaft, and then thrust forward, hand moving away from the hyena's shoulder to run down his body once more.

Kalti shivered, jerked, gasped, and arched against him when it then wrapped around his hard length. A few more thrusts, a couple of well-timed strokes, and then his claws dug in across the wood of the table, gouging it further - and he bucked once, twice, a third time in emptying his finish out between the two of them, catching equally along Dræval's scales as it did his own fur.

The dragon came soon behind him, thrusts quickened to a fever pace under the urgency of the contact. Teeth gritted, rounded ears back, eyes squeezed shut, he pounded into him, forced the table back along the earthen floor, and then finally buried himself deep enough inside Kalti that the hyena had to squirm and shiver around his length. Each spurt pulsed out inside of him, thick shaft straining as it pumped out-

And then both of them perked and looked over at the tent's door flap when it wafted open around a golden-furred arm. In wandered the retriever again, now peering down through the little notebook he always carried with him; Jameson clutched a pencil between his lips and was scratching behind one of his ears, and then when he looked up he blinked, looked down at his notebook, then looked up again, and froze.

Confusion lanced through the dog's system. _Am I dreaming?_He looked from Kalti, to Dræval, to the table underneath them, then back again. Two loincloths lay forgotten near the corner of the tent, and now both of his lovers squeezed so close to one another here, fully naked, maws wet, chests smeared with glistening white... and as Kalti leaned slowly backwards there was a sound of wet suction, and Dræval's eyes rolled up and his mouth fell open - and then the dragon's thick length slopped free from the hyena's stretched tailhole, luscious red folds of meat gaping open for a moment before slurping closed around themselves. A thick bead of milky white dribbled down along the underside of his brushy tail, then rolled along the side.

The researcher swallowed, mouth open. He lifted a finger and pointed between the two of them. "Are - you... I was just..."

Neither of the chieftains spoke. Kalti pulled himself upright, his still-hard shaft shifting in its own puddle on his belly.

"Thinking..." Jameson couldn't stop looking at both of them, fully on display here for him just like he had imagined so many times before. "That there's... no way I could choose between either of you, since that's just - not the way it works, and like, I don't even feel like I could begin to, and it would be a betrayal to - to myself as well as to... each of you, and..." Dræval reached forward, swept that oozing drip along a thumbpad, and then pressed it right back up inside of Kalti where he sat, making the hyena shudder and squirm. The other chieftain reached forward, hooked an arm around the dragon's shoulder, and tugged him forward, deliberately resting Dræval's heavy cock down alongside his own. "...and that just wouldn't be... fair, and..."

"Jameson..." Kalti rumbled, muzzle close to the dragon's.

"Starlight," Dræval continued. His tongue flicked out over his suspiciously moist chops. "We... settled our differences."

Kalti looked down at him, that back up to Jameson. "Mostly. As with everything, only time will truly tell."

"Yes." Strong legs wrapped around the dragon's bare waist and pulled him in. Draeval wobbled where he stood, then brought his paws down against the table on either side of Kalti's shoulders. Naturally Jameson's heart leapt into his throat when he saw those thick lips curl back into a snarl, but there was something in the sound of his growl that instead ignited a different feeling in him, down in his loins instead of along his hackles. Dræval returned the look, leveled his own searing gaze at him, then flicked his tongue again - and to Jameson's unending surprise, leaned forward to steal a kiss from the hyena. "You do not have to choose. We spoke about it, and... a little more... and we think we may be open to the idea of a..."

"Truce," Kalti finished. Once more he straightened up, this time pulling Dræval with him. "Cooperation, perhaps. Between the two of us. Or, if you would like... the three of us?"

The table creaked as Kalti rose to his feet. Jameson looked between the two of them again, wide shoulders, broad chests, rippling abs, down to their impressive, formidable equipment still hanging, swaying, twitching between their legs, Kalti's sack coated in thick fur and drooping down a little bit further, Dræval's pouched in the same smooth, leathery-soft skin as his belly and the underside of his tail.

Briefly there was a flash of thought, the fantasy scenario of Jameson on his knees lifting his nose up between one pair of those balls while hefting the other into his palm. He thought about pursing his lips against the base of Kalti's sheath, then turning to the side to nuzzle along Dræval's shaft. Then another shock of realization: _I may be able to do that._But nervousness, hesitation held him in place.

He half-lifted his paw again, pencil clutched loosely between his fingers. "You mean, three of us, as in..."

Then the scent hit him. Hot and heavy, it swirled around within the tent like a thick, palpable haze, physically heating his skin through his fur where it swept. His nose wrinkled, his snout curled, his mouth watered, his loins tightened. Jameson swallowed and took a deeper taste of that scent, and in it tasted both of his lovers inextricably entwined, deep masculine musks entwined and overlapping, clashing against one another just as they melted into something new and unique.

"Together," Kalti said.

Dræval nodded and echoed the word. "You are right in that regard, Jameson: we are very similar, and we do think alike. I think, perhaps, that is part of why we have always butted heads so often." Arm still draped around the hyena, he leaned forward a bit towards their shared lover. "And because of that, I think I already know what he's thinking."

Both of the other boys looked at him. Dræval stretched a thickly-muscled arm forward, slid a finger down within the collar of Jameson's shirt, and gently tugged the researcher forward, his pencil leaping from his paw and clattering to the earthen floor underneath. Suddenly the retriever found himself wrapped in their mixed presence, heat and humidity and scent and lust swirling solidly around him, tickling at his nose and throat and serving to just tighten his pants further and further. Where Dræval faced him, his still-hard shaft left stains along his shirt - and turned this way he could feel Kalti's similarly wet, slickened cock resting along the base of his tail, already reminding him of so many times before.

The dragon's finger now turned and lifted up underneath Jameson's chin. Green eyes glittered down at him, then flashed up over his shoulder towards where Kalti still stood, then flicked back again. Dræval licked his lips.

"We were just getting ready for a round two."

Jameson felt the hyena stir behind him in a deep chuckle, the weight of his cock bouncing against his lower back. It felt almost as though the flesh were burning through the fabric and fur there.

"We were?"

The golden retriever squired where he stood, wedged here between each of the chieftains of the savannah tribes, every inhalation heavily weighted with their strong, intoxicating scents. No matter which way he turned he could see nothing but fur and scale, muscle and might: Dræval continued twitching and leaking against his shirt, while he reflexively pushed back against Kalti's arousal there along his lower back. One paw pushed forward against the dragon's lower belly, teasing downwards towards where his shaft protruded from his body, and then the other reached around to push through thick, soft fur down towards the much coarser, wirier bush resting at the base of Kalti's sheath, itself retracted to a thick overlap of wet wrinkles behind his knot.

He spread his fingers out there, sliding through the slightly greasy coating of sweat and musk, and squeezed down beneath the hyena's root. Kalti shuddered and thrust reflexively forward, grinding Jameson in against Dræval so that the dragon's shaft slipped up along his belly, now leaving a wet trail along the fabric of his shirt.

"Unless," Dræval went on, "our Jameson would rather not?"

"N-no, no, this is... ah, this is..." But he could barely speak. The retriever swallowed, mouth open, and looked from one to the other and back again. Such tenderness, such affection in each of their normally hard gazes, something that still often caught him by surprise - even more so now that when they looked at each other some of this still remained, though the same familiar rivalry and aggression was there too. Slowly Jameson started to lower himself down, tail wagging behind him, breath coming in short, shaky gasps, each one still heavily tinted with their mixed musk, and strengthening as he dropped down. "This is... fine..."

And then there he was, kneeling along the earthen floor with not one but both hanging here above his muzzle, each twitching, pulsing at its own pace, Kalti's still dripping with milky white from his assumedly recent finish, Dræval's streaked down to the base with glistening stickiness. What just drove the dog wild, what ignited everything inside of him and made him already move to fervently undo the fastenings of his pants to free this pressure, was that they each smelled of each other: when he leaned forward, pursed his lips against the base of Dræval's thick shaft, and drew in a low breath through his nose, all he could smell was the low, earthy scent that he usually associated with Kalti - and then when he turned his head to the side and did the same for the hyena, deliberately smearing some of that wetness across his nose and lips.

He looked up past each of their impressive lengths, occasionally bumping or brushing against one another as they twitched and throbbed. Kalti and Dræval stood side by side as Jameson had never _hoped_to hope they might, the former's arm around the latter's waist, the latter's around the former's shoulder. The retriever wrapped his fingers as far as they could fit around Kalti's shaft near his knot, smearing that slickness more closely into place, and then mouthed his way up along Dræval's toward the angled tip. Both of them shivered and pushed forward, against wrapping him in their mixed scent and heat; Kalti's heavy balls swung against his wrist and forearm, and Dræval's rested snug against his chin even as he flicked his tongue out along his underside...

And then from there the retriever lost track of where he was. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, and his paws wandered back and forth from one chieftain to the other, stroking, squeezing, hefting, squishing. One moment he filled his mouth with Dræval's taste overlaid in Kalti's scent, and then he pulled free, swallowed down the sticky slickness clinging to the back of his throat, and did the same for the hyena; then he'd pull back again, wipe at his mouth, spend a few moments rubbing at himself, and then would dive right back down in, this time hefting one pair of balls along his muzzle shortly before the other, then back to the first again.

It didn't take long for Jameson to smear himself in either of their scents, and both of them at the same time. When he reached up to wipe at his mouth his paw carried a combination of thick musk, sweat, slickness, and saliva, Dræval's over Kalti's over Dræval's again, then mixed with his own when he reached down to work himself a little closer. Occasionally when he glanced up, lips wrapped halfway down along the hyena's shaft as far as he could work himself, or from underneath Dræval's with his tongue curling along the underside, he saw the two of them with their lips locked and jaws churning again, still trying to best each other in their performance there as well.

In the months since he had arrived and worked his way steadily closer to the chiefs Jameson had certainly learned each of their tells and traits, and he found now that juggling both of those back and forth in his head, his palms, and his tongue came a bit more easily than he might have expected. Most of his focus would go to one while the stroked or caressed the other close to his muzzle, and then as that one began to tighten up and shiver in approaching his second peak Jameson drew back to give the same treatment to the other, wanting it to stretch on, longer and longer.

Soon he felt himself getting close too, though, even as he moved entirely away from touching at himself and instead just twitched and dribbled down onto the dirt floor. One of Kalti's paws settled on the back of his head and tugged him down, until he could just barely brush against the bulge of his half-swollen knot with his extended tongue; Jameson winced at the stretch, felt the pressure in the back of his throat and the strain in his jaw, and held there as long as he could with his throat closed off before he drew back again, coughed, spluttered, swallowed, and watched as his own shaft bounced and smacked against his belly, pushed so close just by scent and knowledge. Then he turned his head to do the same to Dræval, the dragon's tapered, somewhat more streamlined length allowing him to slip deeper into the retriever's throat.

Even when he pulled back to catch his breath, Jameson smelled both of them thoroughly smeared into the fur of his muzzle, all along his upper lip, coating the back of his throat, simmering in his belly from the dribbles of warm pre that had oozed out along his tongue. He sat back on his haunches now with one paw running along each of them: he slipped up along their thick, dense thighs, scooped down underneath heavy sacks, cupped their balls in his paws, lifted up between them; he circled around towards the bases of their shafts, in Dræval's instance slipped a pair of fingerpads along his slit, and in Kalti's let his thumb sink easily down inside the thick, wet inner skin of his sheath; then he turned inwards, squeezed around them, slid towards the end, and pumped from there, slowly at first but quickly gaining pace and urgency.

As he did so each one bore down into the motion, Kalti's legs starting to bend and his hips thrusting forward, Dræval moving in rhythm with his paw. Jameson's ears perked again and again with the wet smacking and sucking of their mostly-sustained kiss, one of them occasionally pulling away from the other to catch his breath or grit his teeth, until finally they each pulled back, pressed their muzzles against one another, and tightened with the approach of their finish. The retriever could feel it coming on, Kalti slipping dangerously close to the edge until - finally he burst, knot swelling out and pushing his sheath the rest of the way back again, his load spurting out in a few thick yet quick and loose sprays arcing out across his forearm, shoulder, chest, and muzzle, coating him even more fully in the hyena's rich, earthy scent.

While still pumping out from there the chieftain tossed his head back and growled, fervently thrusting forward until Jameson had no choice but to spread his fingers around that wide knot, rub back along it, and then squeeze again behind its base, tugging from the root. Kalti nearly lost his footing at that, claws scrabbling at the earth while his seed continued to pour out across the dog on his knees, halfway through with Dræval sucking in a gasp and then bucking in his own finish. For a brief time he took it from both sides, the last of Kalti's spurts squirting out across the bridge of his muzzle while Dræval now pumped against his cheek but, that done, Jameson turned, opened his maw, and stretched his tongue out to receive rope after rope of thick, heated dragon.

They both smelled and tasted different - yet still so similar, so that as Dræval bucked and gasped, one hand holding the dog's head to keep him in place as his spurts now arced up across his cheek and one eye, Jameson lapped some of Kalti's off the back of his paw and already couldn't quite tell the difference between the two. From there it took next to no effort for Jameson to finish himself off as well, the sticky wet heat of each of their peaks soaking into his fur and settling in his belly; he leaned in towards one of them, buried his nose into the spot between shaft and sack, and brushed his still-slickened paws against himself a few times - and then bucked and jerked where he knelt, painting the floor in front of him in a few quick spurts.

Dazed, exhausted, deeply satisfied, Jameson remained there a moment before he found the energy to lean back, tail still swaying behind him. Both chieftains looked down upon him with affection in their eyes, and both extended an arm down to help him up. He let them pull him to his footpaws and then leaned in against them, wrapping his arms as far as he could around their wide chests.

Which was, of course, not very far.

The words came before he could stop them. "I love you," he murmured, warm all over. "Both of you. It might take some... _figuring out,_but..."

"That is just part of it," Dræval agreed. "Everything is a learning experience."

"And the only way to learn how to do it," Kalti picked up, "is just that: to do it."

Jameson leaned back, nose filled with the aromas of lust, desire, sex, dragon, hyena, and so many other things, and grinned. "I'll have to get in contact with some of my supervisors. This is a huge step in the cultural history of the region..."

Kalti tossed his head back and laughed; Dræval rolled his eyes and gave another puff of smoke. Then, though, Jameson stood up on his tiptoes and leaned in, and the hyena met him in another surprisingly gentle kiss, tasting richly of the dragon - and he pulled back, licked his lips, turned, and did the same for Dræval as well.

He still had so much here to learn, but at least now he had both of them to help him in that regard. His tail continued wagging.