The brief, maddeningly light touches to his pollen slits, coupled with the sight of Kirk's wicked grin and a gorgeously disheveled Scott were beginning to cause unmistakable physical effects. Keenser squirmed, reveling in the rough rasp of fabric against the delicate underflesh bared by his bark, which was slowly retracting in arousal.

Keenser moved his hand down, stroking in one firm line from Scott's neck to his ass, which he gave a firm, possessive squeeze. Then, he stepped back and eyed the two men appreciatively. "You're wearing too many clothes," he informed them.