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.
All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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The harlequin hare anthro was easy to spot, sitting at a small table at the far end of the bar, drinking his wine with his eyes quietly set on his book. Others in the bar were louder and brasher than Oswain, yet the hare had never felt the need to raise his voice in order to be heard. Maybe that was where his enjoyment of magic came into play, using more subtle, elegant means to subdue anyone that wanted to start trouble with him. He could always come out on top without someone else even knowing or quite understanding what he had done to them.
That was just why and how Oswain got away with as much as he did. Yet, that night, he was away from his travelling party, missions lying ahead for them, relaxing and drinking, whiling the night away.
At least, that was what the hare had intended to do. Whether or not he was on a quest, life had a funny way of throwing unsuspecting things at him. Almost as if there was someone above dictating the moves that he and his team took...though that was surely a silly thought to have indeed!
She caught his eye. Not because of her rugged beauty, the crimson scaled dragonborn reptilian with a frill above her cheekbones and piercing, amber eyes. Oh, it was clichΓ© to say that, Oswain was sure, but sometimes it was the most obvious features that captured one ultimately. He stared when he shouldn't have, his wine glass halfway to his lips, ears twitching.
She was alone. That was odd. Not because the hare had seen her before, but, well, it was strange that she was there and she looked out of place, sitting at a table with an empty seat opposite her.
Oswain's heart pulled for her. She was stunning, dressed in leather armour -- but clean armour, with a cotton, supposedly, underlayer. It looked like she had made an effort, not just slouching in after a mission to celebrate.
He was up and moving before his mind had caught up with what he was doing, his book tucked under his arm as he approached.
Oswain smiled, though the hare could not help but be a little nervous before a dragonborn still. It was something about the teeth, yet he had had enough wine to ease the edges of his worries. And the hare was well known for being a little on the flirtier side after a glass of wine. It didn't take all that much, to be fair, for him to lose his concerns.
And she didn't look like she wanted to be alone either: that was what really got the hare to approach.
"Hello, fine lady," he said, dipping his head politely in acknowledgement, a gentle smile on his lips. "What brings you here this evening? It seems a little quiet here."
He only meant to offer conversation, though she lifted her head instantly, eyes narrowing. Oswain chanced that there was a curl of smoke wafting from her nostrils, her muzzle short but still draconian in nature.
"What do you want?" She said, though there was no aggression in her tone: she didn't need it to know that she could look after herself. "Did Thomas send you over?"
"What? The bartender, Tom?"
Oswain glanced back at the well-groomed black rat, who smiled and gave him a wave.
"No, no," he said, answering her question. "You just... I don't know. I just felt like coming over and seeing if you'd like to chat."
"Hm..."