Haunted Wood Suck Shit and Try to Die

Clay winced at his friend's tired tone once more, ears falling back slightly as he thought about being nicer. Perhaps Valour was too exhausted to put up with his attitude. Or maybe not, given the next words out of his mouth followed by a growl. If it was any other the Easthollian would happily rip their throat out.

But it was Valour. Sweet, handsome, sexy Valour.

Wait- Handsome? sexy? Clay furrowed his brows at the thought, concerned for his own brain. What was WRONG with him? Why was he thinking of something like that at a time like this? "Idiot," he mumbled, unsure if it was directed at himself or Valour.

Maybe both.
 
"I can't walk very far with my wounds; Would you like me to go mark where someone else can smell it?" Clay dropped his leg at that, done relieving himself and instantly tucking his tail under to hide any wandering gaze. He still felt the odd feeling of arousal between his legs, hating it deeply. For some reason, ever since that day in the meadow he couldn't stop thinking of the agouti boy in that way. It was sickening.

"what if i am?"

"Then i'd ask you to go continue fucking that Clarence boy of yours. Surely he'd be more willing to bend over for you." The prince snorted, still turned away from Valour in seething anger.