This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
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Taming Him
Resting his elbows back upon the hotel bar, the black feline surveyed the room, a smirk tugging at the right side of his lips. The buzz of alcohol relaxed his muscles, leaving him slightly slumped over the bar top, and the equine bartender flicked his tail, an equine gesture of annoyance. King ignored it. Who cared if he was taking up space? It was a convention, surely anything was acceptable at a convention, though he could not claim to have been to one before and did not base his claim on experience. He was hardly doing anything wrong. Tapping a finger against his chin, he mused over how a group of canines had objected to him drawing attention to the fact that the rules were lax. Or was it a few minutes ago? He could not remember, but he had thought it a good discussion until they started baring teeth at him. Bringing the pint glass to his lips, he took another deep draught, swilling the liquid around his muzzle, and swallowed noisily. Maybe he had had one too many, though he was sure his friends would disagree.
As if suddenly remembering that, yes, he had attended the party with companions, he looked around, expecting them to materialise, a laughing group surrounding him in a fantasy split second. To his surprise, they were nowhere to be seen, vanished into thin air. He rolled his eyes: it was not the first time it had happened. They usually disappeared through his own inattention rather than from any manner of ill will towards him, or that was what he preferred to think if the truth was otherwise. It should not be that hard to locate them again, right? He huffed and shook his head. Yeah, at a convention where everyone and their brother was dressed in some kind of cosplay? Finding them in that mess? Good luck to him there.
It was ridiculous, he thought as he ordered another pint, sliding a scattering of coins towards the weary bartender. They had dragged him to the convention after all, so they should have stuck with him at the bare minimum. How was he going to find them? They were dressed in crazy costumes and he could barely walk around asking so and so whether they had seen a snow leopard dressed as this anime character or a python wearing that geeky t-shirt. Speaking of clothing, he raised an eyebrow as a pair of female Siamese cats, possibly related, danced past, showing off more fur than fabric. A goofy grin spread across his muzzle, drawing glances that he disregarded with a flick of his paw. He had only really come to the con for the eye candy and the parties after the day time events were concluded - who was anyone else to judge his motives and stares?
Sighing, he shot a glance at his empty glass, musing on switching up his choice for the remainder of his wallet-lightening night. He had to find his friends. Just one more drink first? Oh, go on. He reached for his wallet.
"I see your pals have left you out on your own, kitty."
Startled, he looked up and turned to the bustling room. Evidencing his level of intoxication, it took him a few seconds to locate the speaker: a chestnut equine with one raised eyebrow clad in a strapless black dress. His gaze lingered on her slim curves, liking how the black stood in stark contrast to the red of her coat, and shook himself vigorously. With some difficulty, he looked her in the eye, whiskers twitching. She wasn't one of his friends, a bubble of unsolicited thought interrupted, demanding attention.
"Who're you?" He blurted, alcohol making him forget his manners.
The mare's smirk grew.
"Someone who's been watching you make a fool of yourself for quite some time." The mare took a seat on the vacant stool beside him. "You're highly entertaining to observe. Does such obnoxious behaviour come naturally to you? Even your name," she paused. "King. That's what I heard, wasn't it?"
"That's my name," he said, glancing around as if he expected another fur to be playing some kind of joke on him. "What's yours?"
"Amethyst."
"Jewels fit for a king."
King propped one arm up on the bar, flexing under the long sleeves of his shirt. Belatedly, he wished he had chosen something tighter, something that would better show off his physique: blue stripes really did so little for him when he had a lady on his arm. Brushing aside Amethyst's coarseness - in all honesty, it was refreshing, almost like lad banter - he looked her up and down, mimicking how she had blatantly checked out his form. She would do nicely. Snapping her fingers, the mare recalled his attention and he reluctantly dragged his eyes from her shapely, crossed legs to her muzzle.
"Good kitties should speak to ladies, not stare at them," she said.
"You don't seem much of a lady," King quipped in reply, thinking himself especially bold to concoct such a retort.
Amethyst laughed behind a paw, flashing a set of freshly painted nails at him. The hoof-like nails shone crimson in the bar light, dimmer than he would have liked it to be, like the sheen of fresh blood. The fingernails drifted to the mare's chin where they curved, cupping the underside of her muzzle, and she leaned forward, ears pricked attentively. Believing her about to speak once more, he patiently (to his mind) sat and waited, only to be surprised when no words were forthcoming. King flicked his right ear unconsciously, listening hard in case he had missed her speaking but, no, she had not said anything. He raised his paws in half-defeated confusion and the equine nipped her lower lip in a poor show of concealing her amusement. Refusing to abide by social conventions, Amethyst smiled pleasantly and traced the lines of his body with her eyes alone, undressing him as he had undressed her as the silence grew. King shifted, uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
"Now who's being rude," he growled, fur fluffing up. "Who the hell do you think you are? Talk, don't just sit there. Or is it something else you're after?"
"Now, now," she chuckled. "I told you who I am, didn't I? Amethyst. Amethyst. You got it, darling? And let's not be starting with the cursing, though I bet there's quite a tongue on you in that regard."
She paused, letting the implication hang in the air, but King was too slow on the uptake for that wit after a few drinks. Foggy between the ears, the cat shook his head slowly, striving and failing to clear his head. His paws curled and uncurled, forming loose fists, as he tried to catch up with what the mare was doing, what she was saying. She was toying with him, he could see it more clearly as her smirk grew. How dare she? Frustration and irritation battled for supremacy within his consciousness. He should walk away, show her exactly what she was missing out on.
Take it easy, he told himself. You still have a shot here. Even if she is...yeah. Yeah. Like that. Does it really bloody matter?
If he delved into that notion, he would have sat there all night arguing with himself, so he discarded the thought, filing it away for a later date. Sitting up, the feline looked beyond the mare staring with such intensity that she half-turned to see if someone else was standing behind. Grinning at his ploy, King brushed his fingers through his long, black hair, letting it fall smoothly down the centre of his back and Amethyst's eyes followed the motion, the mare drumming her fingers upon her bicep. King, however, was far from dissuaded by her nonchalance. There was always one tactic that worked with the ladies and he had more than one trick left up his sleeve. He'd win her yet, he would.
"What's someone like you doing here?" He purred, reaching out boldly to take her paw, playing the role of the Casanova that he truly knew he was.
"What do you mean 'here'?" She answered with a question and his ears folded back briefly.
"At a comic convention," he clarified, slipping more easily into the game. "It doesn't seem to be the place for one dressed like you."
"How should I be dressed?" Amethyst smiled. "The parties are hardly the place for some con clothing."
"Meaning?"
"I would not like to show up to a bar in a hooded sweatshirt," she said. "Nothing wrong with that, of course, but it is not the place to do so in a hotel nonetheless, for myself."
"Is that what you wore earlier?" He wrinkled his nose.
"Sure," Amethyst winked. "I wouldn't be here if I was not into the geeky side of life, more specifically video games in my case. My favourite 'hoodie' has a Pokemon on it."
Pokemon? The feline resisted the urge to screw up his muzzle. He couldn't imagine the mare in the dress playing Pokemon, though he nothing in particular against the game. Truth be told, he took more pleasure from any activity when with others and his convention related activity - anime watching, gaming or other - was always undertaken with friends. Alone, he could not give an answer for what part of convention-going he enjoyed or what geeky endeavour captured his interest. At least she knew what she liked.