Redhawk Caldera The lost boys

"Pfft," he voiced with a faux cocky air. "Like any lil mama would say no to this." Try as he might, he couldn't seem to sashay his hips. There wasn't really anything to sashay. He was like Johnny Bravo, all shoulders and no waist. Still. Ladies were all about the shoulders, and he was all about the ladies. Starting today, apparently. Prior to waking up with his very first morning wood, Nightjar's interest in females had been tame. Definitely there, but tame. It must've been a very good dream, for the moment Peregrine made the connection between his peeping friend and women, suddenly sticking it in one of them to experience the magic of sex was all he could really think about.

Thankfully, the only ladies around that he knew of were his mom, his godmom or they were kind of old (Shar-kali and to a lesser extent, Somnia) compared to him, and the thought of sticking it in an older lady gave him the heebie-jeebies. One day, when it was about more than just his pubescent boy desires, perhaps the thought wouldn't freak him out so much. Presently, he made a face. With these feels, the thought of sticking it in a dude wouldn't appeal to him anytime soon, if ever.

"Ooooh," he drawled when Peregrine finished his explanation. Lectures were kinda dry, so Nightjar hadn't paid complete attention to it, but hey, a little stroke here, a little lick to the cheek there, bing bang boom. "So, pops, who should I woo with my squiggly-squoo?"