Crest huffed at Laly as she moved to dress his wounds. He hadn’t been cut much, mostly a few scrapes that hadn’t penetrated his thick fur or hard skin, but he didn’t shoo her off. There was something about her hands against him that made the hunger, so bright and hard in his stomach, settle just a little lower. By the time she mentioned others appearing, that improbable cock had grown almost fully aroused. The baseball bat of fuckmeat boasted finger-thick veins that vanished into the furry base, above appropriately sized balls. The apple-sized plump black head dribbled a few drops of strawberry scented lubrication. Unaware, or unknowing of what the significance of his arousal was, Crest absently reached down to brush dirt and grass from his engorged member.<br/><br/>Surprisingly, the motion felt…sensational. So, he kept brushing. When he turned to see the villagers approaching – anthros, humans, elves and…something else, he scowled.<strong> “We save village, yes? What we get?”</strong>At least he had the idea of reparations in order. As soon as he asked the question, though, he noticed that the villagers were armed.<br/><br/>Sweeping an arm around Laly’s middle, he pulled her close – into the warm circle of his arm, against his chest and, incidentally, against his disturbingly hard cock. Given his height, it was about even with her breasts, though – to his credit – he was no longer cleaning himself. He looked fierce, protective.<br/><br/><strong>“They not harm my squirrel girl.”</strong>He said, possessively. His scent was strong, so close – rich and musky and decidedly pleasant. So very much unlike a human’s scent.<br/>