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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.
*****
Rhythm
“So, what got you interested in playing the guitar?”
The sergal leaned back in her swivelling chair, her otherwise threatening jaws parted in an easygoing smile. Between her fluffy pink and white fur, she was far from intimidating but could turn smile to snarl in the blink of an eye. She dressed casually for work in dark boot-cut jeans and a white shirt with slashes through the arms and shoulders, which allowed the fur to poke through, black headphones snug around her head. They were designed especially for sergals and the different head-shape they boasted – ears were not exactly where they would have been for canine or feline – but everything was custom designed these days. Furries were all so different that it was difficult to brand anything but the cheapest and tackiest as ‘one size fits all’.
Across from her, a Starburst container of coffee set upon the desk, sat a very interesting character indeed. Rhythm always seemed to obtain the most intriguing guests at the radio station, but there was something different about this one, the strange guitarist. At first glance, he could have been a rabbit, albeit a very unusual one. He was covered in short, black fur and his ears flopped to the sides like a lapine, tapering to points while they protruded from his well groomed hair, which was as orange as the flare of sunset. There ended any resemblance to a common rabbit and the fur – named ‘Terian’ – leaned upon the desk, draconian tail swinging lazily through a gap in the back of his raised chair. The tail was ridged with ‘spines’, running along the topside, and bragged grey ‘ribbing’ throughout the length, the limb appearing to be separated into dark squares and topped by the pale, green spikes. As if that was not enough to catch one’s eye, a delicate pattern of green rings and curves painted his body, glowing faintly where his arm rested in the shadow. Curious… Smiling, he rubbed one of the two short horns on top of his head with a finger, brushing away an imaginary speck of dust.
“A few things drew my attention,” Terian said, answering Rhythm’s first question. “My older brother played and that made me want to. He was pretty good at it but gave it up when he was older, went off to college. That side wasn’t for me. Learning.”
Terian spun so that his back faced the desk and he rested both elbows upon it, blowing a strand of hair away from his face. His long ears twitched and he jiggled the headset on top of his head, which was angled between the horns so that it would not too easily become dislodged. It was too large for his delicate features and the attached microphone bumped into his lips. Terian screwed up his muzzle, contorting his fragile features into something entirely less pleasant. He looked Rhythm up and down as if seeing her for the first time, his green gaze intense.
“Why don’t you take your headset off?” Terian winked. “Then we can really talk. No listeners allowed, strictly between us. Though we could give them the details later, if you catch my drift. I’m sure it would make for wonderful listening. Just like my music.”
The sergal raised an eyebrow. She could not and would not be fazed by the musical crowd and inherent cockiness that ran amok; Terian was not the first to propose something of that ilk and she doubted that he would be the last. There were the shy types too, of course, but smug furs dominated the scene, demanding attention and, half the time, assuming every female got wet simply at the sight of them. Rhythm, however, was not one to be star struck and, despite the anxiety flickering in her stomach, she looked down her snout at the slimmer fur.
“Oh, I’m sure our listeners would love to hear something like that,” Rhythm laughed politely, not covering her muzzle with a paw so that it would transmit correctly into the microphone: politeness was superfluous on the radio. “But not going to happen, sweetheart. These never come off.”
He cocked his head.
“Why’s that?”
“Just a thing,” Rhythm winked, keeping to her radio persona as if adhering to a well practiced script. “Wouldn’t want to give away all my secrets now, would I?”
“I’d be more than merely interested in these secrets of yours,” Terian persisted, body tipping forward as if to scoot closer to the sergal.
Rhythm shook her head: they were all the same. He could have all the flashy fur he liked – probably was tattooed or something to have such glowing markings, hardly natural – and he would still have to have the attitude to catch her attention. Shaking her notes out, she grinned and smoothed the pages flat again.
“That’s more than enough about me.” Rhythm glanced at her notes. “How do you feel about your casino oyna upcoming gigs? I see you’ve got quite a tour planned – an ambitious move.”
“Yes, should be a blast. It’s just me going this time, kind of John Daniels style, but I’m looking to get a group together at some point.”
“What prompted that change?” Rhythm pressed, curiosity roused by the fresh information.
Terian shrugged and Rhythm tapped her own headset, gesturing towards the microphone.
“Oh.” Terian pulled himself up straight. “Something different. I like different.”
He paused, collecting his thoughts.
“Thing is, it’s fun to go it alone but I’m not disillusioned. My skills are limited and I have a lot to learn to keep going. I can go far, I reckon, but I’ll need a group to support me and I them. I have talents that others don’t have and my name is getting to be better know, which is great, don’t get me wrong. But maybe I can help out others and let them help me out too…”
He trailed off, sliding his eyes away from Rhythm.
“So you see this as a charitable notion?”
“Not particularly, that’s not what I had in mind. I think music is more about purely the sound. I’m all about the entertainment, though I can’t just ignore the music itself. If it’s crap, no one will bother.”
He laughed, the sound sharp through the microphone.
“What I’m trying to get at is, providing better entertainment to fans and the wider audience. Because that’s what it’s really all about. If no one listened to my music, I’d have nothing. I want to do better than I am, for them, and I think a group is the way to go. We will be able to give the entertainment that people want.”
Bringing his short monologue to an abrupt conclusion, Terian looked down, a light blush colouring his cheeks. Caught by the sudden shade of vulnerability, the sergal sat back, paw at her throat. Rhythm traced her gaze over him carefully, observing from beneath her eyelashes, and then smiled, warmth brightening her eyes.
“Terian, I believe you and I are going to get on very well. Tell me more about what you have planned.”
*
Rhythm hissed through her teeth as Terian thrust into her. He bent her legs back to her chest, panting harshly as he pounded her into the bed, springs squeaking in protest. They had only gone out to the pub after the conclusion of Rhythm’s show and now look where they had ended up! The pub was quiet, being a weeknight, but they found that to suit them well, talking further about their personal lives in a manner that could not be conducted on air. The ratings from Rhythm’s show were stellar, so they felt that a celebration was in order, the bartender making sure to keep their glasses topped up. A few drinks later, they found themselves stumbling up the stairs to Rhythm’s bedroom, entirely naked.
“Harder.”
Rhythm growled and twisted her fingers into Terian’s hair, pulling him to her in a hungry kiss. He eagerly complied, curling his paws around Rhythm’s thighs, pushing into the soft flesh as he leaned over her, hips moving like a piston. In the morning, the sergal’s neighbours would complain about the moans and banging of the bed against the wall but she could not find it in herself to maintain quiet in the moment. She was lucky her roommate was away for the time being, far away from their illicit tryst. Arching up into her partner, the sergal drew him in close, feeling his paw worm its way between their bodies, down to her sex.
Pressing her clit between two fingers, Terian huffed hotly into the kiss, rubbing and coaxing the sergal to climax. Though he was ready to cum, even after a few pints, Terian took care of his partners, something that had become more of a focus than ever after recent events. He fought with Rhythm’s tongue, battled playfully between their muzzles, and groaned as orgasm crept upon him, stealing every inch of ground he gained through pure willpower in holding off the inevitable.
Terian broke the kiss as he ground deep into Rhythm and groaned as he reached his peak, spilling his cum before he was entirely ready. Pleasure thrummed through his body and he shuddered, nuzzling into Rhythm’s neck as he rubbed her clit in small circles, taking his cues from her the best he could through his lingering level of drunkenness. His cock softened within the sergal and cum leaked from her pleasantly sore cunny as she bucked suddenly, tipping over the edge with a half-restrained shriek. Her tail thrashed, ecstasy exploding within her in a chain reaction, every second of continued stimulation heightening the pleasure until she knew not where she was or who she was with.
The sergal collapsed on the bed with a moan, jaws parted to drawn in breaths in ragged gasps – oxygen that was sorely needed. Smirking to himself, Terian nipped her neck and kissed over the bitten spot, tongue lapping over the wicked sting of pain: Rhythm’s chest rumbled with what could have been a purr, or at least the sergal imitation of such. Sweat matted their fur and canlı casino Terian shivered, feeling it cool upon his body. Perhaps Rhythm would let him use her shower? She was sure she had one, as petite as the flat was. The trouble was, however, that he had no inclination to leave just yet, though he ‘should’ leave. He never usually stayed the night with anyone else. One night stands were one thing but the sergal’s presence brought warmth to his chest, a craving for more.
Returning to her senses, Rhythm sighed contentedly and ran her paws down Terian’s back as he shifted on to his side. He remained close enough for their fur to brush and shivered happily as she stroked his back, the sensation sending tingles through his skin.
“Well…” Rhythm flopped back, head landing on her pillow, sheets in disarray. “I certainly didn’t expect this today.”
“Me neither.” Terian grinned. “Do you usually sleep with furs you interview? After you’ve interviewed them?”
“I certainly don’t sleep with anyone before an interview,” Rythm quipped. “How else would I get a feel for them?”
She flung one arm over Terian’s chest and wriggled into a more comfortable position, her head upon his shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest paced her heartbeat into a more sensible rhythm and she breathed slowly and deeply, eyes half closed in the afterglow.
“Not to say that this is normal for me,” Rhythm added after a moment’s thought. “Sex so quickly, I mean. I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m some kind of slut, though I suppose it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. Not really.”
“I would never have thought it was normal for you,” Terian chuckled. “You were so quiet when I first came into the radio station, I wondered how on earth you would get on with an interview, let alone be on radio.”
“What can I say? The quiet ones will surprise you.”
Snuggling in close to Terian, Rhythm relaxed into the warmth of his body. Almost tentatively, he wrapped his arms around her, paws settling in the small of her back, where they rubbed in small circles, easing out the tension held there. She murred softly and pushed into his touch, the long day finally catching up with her. The sergal could not recall another time that she had been so weary. Terian touched his cheek to hers, nose bumping something cool and hard. Curious, he drew his head back a bit for a better look at an awkward angle.
“Why do you still have those on?”
Terian lifted his paw to Rhythm’s head, touching his fingertips to the headset. He made no move to remove them, yet Rhythm recoiled, eyes flashing.
“No.” She pushed his paw away to be completely sure that he would not try anything. “Those stay on.”
“Why keep them on even in bed?” Terian laughed, release and alcohol making him giddy. “I figured we dashed in here too quickly for you to take them off, not that you wanted to keep them on.”
“They help me,” Rhythm answered simply, dropping a kiss on his nose in a sudden strike of sweetness. “Does it matter? They look good.”
“You do look amazing in them.” Terian cast his eyes over the sergal’s bare body in the light from the streetlamp outside and licked his lips. “And only in them.”
“Oh, shush.”
They were silent for several minutes, the only sound that of their breathing and a few, lone cars passing on the street outside, engines rumbling between pools of yellow light, spilled upon the pavement.
Terian stirred.
“Hey, Rhythm.”
“Yeah?”
“Want to meet up after the gig at Sixfields this weekend?” Terian fumbled for words. “I mean, you can come to the gig if you like too, but I wouldn’t want to drag you along either. You’re welcome to come…would be great if you came. Ah, crap.”
He buried his muzzle into the pillow, body shaking, though not from embarrassment. Far from the type to be shy, Terian only laughed at himself, how drink tied his tongue until words came one after the other yet never in any comprehensible order. The sergal giggled, trembling with suppressed mirth.
“Remind me not to drink again. Until next time.”
“It’s okay,” Rhythm smiled, teetering on the edge of sleep. “I’d love to come. Your music is genuinely catching, I think you could really go far.”
Terian grinned, touching his nose briefly to hers in a chaste kiss.
“It’s a date.”
*
Sitting in the forecourt of an upscale restaurant, Rhythm had dressed to the nines. In a black maxi dress that clung to her body, she was irrefutably elegant, diamond jewellery studding her ears and resting in the hollow between her collarbones. It did not matter that she had no breasts, falling true to genetic sergal anatomy, in such attire, as her hips rounded out, filling the fabric to a pleasing curve. A pair of moderate heels completed the ensemble, allowing her to blend in perfectly with the fancier crowd while still drawing an eye or two in attention. The attention garnered, however, could have simply been from the pair of headphones looped around her kaçak casino neck. She had tried to take them off, but nerves had bounced around her stomach so much that she settled for a less ostentatious representation of them. Others looked once, maybe twice, and she knew it did not matter. She questioned what really mattered when it came to other furs and found herself wondering that a lot of late.
Terian had asked to meet her there and of course the sergal had said yes without pause or conscious thought. They had become a couple of sorts in the dating sense – not unusual between a musician and a radio DJ, if one was fair. Contrary to what she would have expected from a guitarist, Terian enjoyed the luxuries of money in fine dining and events that he would have otherwise been unable to afford, taking any opportunity to treat Rhythm as she deserved to be treated, which he frequently said if she dared protest.
Tour dates dragged Terian away for a time and Rhythm was surprised to feel the pangs of missing another fur digging through her chest like a vicious, hooked blade. It had been hard to be apart, though the duo only met up once or twice every week. Enough time had passed for this to become commonplace and Terian’s cheeky side and sharp humour was enticing enough to soothe Rhythm’s nerves even on the worst of days. Shows at the radio station were not always easy and the industry was tentative, job roles changing at the blink of an eye. Despite her friends, she needed his comfort. Thus she keenly awaited his return in the seating area outside the restaurant, one heel tapping against the floor.
When he finally appeared, green markings pale in the sunset, Rhythm leapt to her hind paws, tail swinging excitedly. Her lover approached with a lazy smile and held his arms open for her, drawing her in close and warm to him as they embraced, the long hug a small attempt to make up for time apart. It seemed that Terian had missed Rhythm too, which made her shiver with words unspoken.
“Great to see you again!” Rhythm hugged him tightly, chest pressing to his. “How was it? Did the gigs go as well as you thought they would? Which one’s next for you? How long are you staying?”
“Slow down!” Terian laughed, holding the sergal away from him at arm’s length, eyes twinkling playfully. “Can’t I have a few minutes to breathe?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
Rhythm leapt away, landed lightly on her hind paws and stroked the fur back into place on top of her head with a barely concealed grin. It was hard to conceal her exuberance when she was truly excited about something or someone. Though her relationship with Terian had not progressed to full dating – she would not say she wanted to be exclusive just yet – she missed his easy-going ways and the stories he had to tell. The sex wasn’t half bad either, but that was a side note to her in any initial relationship. Only later did something like that become more important.
“Tell me all about the tour.”
Rhythm pulled Terian with her to a round table in a secluded corner of the restaurant’s dining area, confident that it would be quiet enough for them to talk until the waiter arrived to take their drink orders. Smiling at the sergal’s keenness, he folded himself into the chair, leaning back against the hard metal. Intricately woven in a fashionable design, it was not the most comfortable of chairs and Terian shifted, squirming. Comfort was not forthcoming, however, and he sighed, slumping forward on to his elbows. The table at least was covered by a clean, white tablecloth, which had been pristinely ironed. It provided his elbows with some cushioning between bone and metal, even if it did not appear that any other fur in the establishment was uncomfortable with their seating arrangements. It was not his kind of place, but Rhythm deserved the luxury.
Terian sighed, the motion of his chest falling sharply catching Rhythm’s eye. His discomfort could not wholly be attributed to the metal seating, though she found herself faring similar, even if she was more familiar with it. The guitarist had not been completely honest with the sergal, if truth was to finally be told.
“Is everything okay?” Rhythm stroked Terian’s arm, concern clouding her muzzle. “It’s not like you to be so…withdrawn. Something’s on your mind.”
Her eyes widened.
“Did something happen at one of the gigs?”
“No, no,” he reassured her. “Nothing like that.”
“Then what is it?” Rhythm smiled, painted lips parting. “I’m sure it cannot be that bad. It’s never as bad as you think it will be.”
Terian leaned back in the chair, gauging Rhythm’s mood. The pink sergal had her forearms on the table, leaning forward with her eyes shining with earnestness. He shuddered. He should have told her right from the beginning. He hoped she would understand. Ears drooping, Terian bit the inside of his cheek, nerves rolling in his stomach with greater ferocity than they did before a gig. And the gigs had tested the limits of his tenacity for performance of late. But it was all a learning experience. Perhaps this was too.
“Rhythm,” he started slowly, rolling the words around his muzzle before releasing them. “I haven’t been honest with you.”
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