The hand that wasn't fisted in his hair gripped his hip to hold him steady as the Medicine Seller worked over his throat. When he was sure he'd gotten his lips, teeth, and tongue over every available surface of Arthur's neck did he pull away enough to answer his question.

"Bear mating season," he teased, his mouth wandering over Arthur's shoulder to the nape of his neck where he resumed his onslaught, rutting his hardening cock over the other man's asscheek.