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A Clydesdale was stood perched at the bar behind which a white tiger, with vibrantly dyed neon blue headfur, handed him his second drink of the night, the horse promptly downing it before it had even had the chance to clink against the varnished wood. Nerves were getting the better of him, though outwardly nobody would have ever guessed. dressed in what he classed as the casual dinner suit; the tie was gone, leaving him donning a pristine white shirt with the top buttons undone to reveal his creamy white chest as charcoal coating gave way to a surprisingly thick chest fur. His muscles filled out the clothes nicely, meaning that the black blazer and matching suit pants he wore were barely fitting. Normally he wouldn't be dressed up so well when he went out, usually making do with just a vest and jeans - even sometimes the jeans were all that were needed. He wouldn't have doused himself in cologne either, making him smell of some unusual title pumped out of the cosmetics chains like 'Stallion' or 'Amber'. Had he frequented this bar a few months ago, he would have gone as he was; typically fresh from a work out so that some drunk fool would say he smelt manly. But this place, even for his standards, was too high end to 'hook up' with someone. He felt alien already as he stood waiting, nursing a beer in one paw whilst he tapped an impatient hoof. His eyes flitted to the door, his teeth grinding against each other as nerves took over.

Days had passed since the coffee shop. Studies had taken over, and the stallion had seen less and less of that sweet Arabian horse. Chris was now just a passing figure in a hallway that he could never seem to reach. Try as he might, the younger stallion kept his distance - not that Andrew wanted to seem perhaps clingy and desperate, but some conversation with him would have been at least a little welcomed. He sighed. It would have ruined tonight though, that was for sure...

His mind cast back to that day, back in the quaint little coffee shop with the flower cart out front, where he'd sat opposite the gorgeous colt and made his question, and naturally as always Chris had found a way to give his answer cryptically. He'd read that very chapter over and over again ever since - it had even gotten to the point where he refused to read anymore of the book in fear of spoiling that precious word. He had gone home and finished off what was left of the chapter...

"Would you like to sleep with me tonight?"

"...Yes."

Asher smiled, his soft, slender muzzle spreading into the gentlest of expressions. But Tristan was not happy. Through the wading sensations of bliss he was beginning to regain his senses. His balls no longer ruled his mind, and through the dominion of logic he was very much aware of what he was doing. To take a male slave was by no means humiliating - in fact if it were anything it would be commonplace should any noble require something tighter than a female or if none presented themselves nearby. But it was the concept of falling for one, or having one's heart throb with every heartbeat for the continued company of a male that was scornful. Greater than the injustice done to his name, Tristan was very much aware that should his feelings for Asher develop, then he would be committing worse atrocities than that which he was accused of. Sleeping with the enemy, a male no less and wishing that this night would never end...

He shook himself, rising to his hooves as his slimy cock began to recede into his body. His blank stare continued to look down at the wolf, his mind an torment of conflicting wants and thoughts, trying to make up his mind. For tonight, at least, he could sate his burning need once and for all, having been teased by this scrumptious wolf for all their travel, but that would be it. Come daybreak, his body would be cleansed and these pervasive and wronged desires would leave him once and for all.

That was what the rational part of him hoped, at least.

He offered a paw to the short-of-breath wolf, letting his delicate paw fall into the grooves of his much more rugged own and lifted him to his footpaws. Asher seemed oblivious to the internal distraught, even seemingly enjoying himself. Naturally, should Tristan decide that tonight was all he needed when the dawn comes, the wolf would be devastated, but the stallion remained vigilant; he was the enemy. That was an inexcusable fact that should never be ignored. Who cared if his heart was broken? Relations between the same genders were expressly forbidden by the Lord. He was justified.

Their tent was nothing of any elegance. A simple relic from Tristan's former days when he fought in the Great War amongst the men. He remembered bitterly those days, often disregarding half his memories as they were simply too graphic and displeasing to contemplate, even for a veteran like himself. But he kept behind those that were useful, not just the tarpaulin that barely passed as shelter.

Asher meandered over to it, swaying his tail with such grace as he cast an alluring look back over his shoulder. He disappeared inside, purposefully presenting his already well-fucked rear and beckoning for another good rutting. Tristan had to strain not to rush over there and just to mount the bitch there and then for such arrogant filthiness. He would have made courtesans back in the great city look like dames that was for sure. Speaking of which, however, if the stallion concentrated hard enough, imagining in his mind the wolf dressed in finer clothes more suited to his build, perhaps something a little more feminine, then he could well pass for a female. He certainly had the sharp tongue of a brooding woman, so none would be the wiser should they hear him talk, but his appearance could very well pass as acceptable too. So long as the fellow nobles would be fooled, Tristan would have no problem resisting the mockery of his men for settling for a lesser girl without such a voluptuous chest or the child-bearing hips that were hard sought.

The horse shook his head, nostrils flaring as he was suddenly angry with himself. How dare he contemplate even possibly having the wolf become his new mistress! The abomination of it all; such disgusting thoughts were not welcome. He might have enjoyed Asher's body for all it had to offer him in such hardship, but that by no means allocated him any privileges to his heart.

But the idea still remained, no matter how hard Tristan tried to burn it from his thoughts. Daresay he even developed it further, observing himself the wedding of the two, Asher disguised in a gown whilst he stood in decorated armour restored back to its pristine order. They would share the rings, paying the minister to keep quiet... It seemed Tristan had developed a taste for the shadier lifestyle of questionable choices. But his musings could wait for one night. He picked up the bucket of water they'd placed by the fire and put out the lights, sending the surrounding area into an encompassing darkness. It took a while to grow accustomed to, but soon the blackness turned navy, and Tristan could see the lake lit up by the moons and stars, their iridescent glows dancing upon frayed ebbs that were wrought across its glassy surface. If the lake were still, it would be a near perfect reflection, but the odd distortion by the wind caused the reflected sky to be shimmered with all these feverish lights. Tristan might have said it was a romantic scene were his mind not set upon proving anything but that.

He clopped towards the tent's flaps, having been left slightly apart on purpose so that when he stooped down to enter he could see through the slat the wolf preparing himself. Already he was sprawled across the two makeshift cots, melding the two into a singular bed as though they were sleeping together in any old castle. Tristan quelled the bickering within him that this was encroaching upon forbidden territory; he'd already lain with the wolf once, so the damage was done. But should he lie down now again and take him for a second time, he could not claim that he was acting under a charm or stupor. His actions would become fixed and unchanging, with no chance of a final excuse to clear his name. It would be willing, without the cause of longing need. It was because he wanted to.

Sighing, he pulled himself into the tent and manoeuvred himself so that he had Asher lying on his back, Tristan's trunked legs straddling over the wolf's waist in quite a dominating position. He'd made his mind up, for this night alone at least, so he was going to make the most of it. He pressed two fingers behind him, finding the wolf's already ploughed hole and pushing in. There was little resistance; whatever was there now had simply formed due to the inactivity. Tristan would soon have the wolf spread wide again, no doubt. But he wiggled his tips about to find the seed of his loins still ripe and wet below. It flowed still quite freely, unabated and thick as ever as it dribbled against his digits. He pushed in as deep as he could, finding the passage to be easily accommodating. Whilst resistance had grown it could easily be smashed down again. Asher squirmed beneath him; paws reaching up along the horse's thickened thighs and groped along his crotch. They toyed at his balls, cupping them and rolling them about in one palm whilst his member stirred from its napping. Soon his mast was emerging once again from wet confines and tapping against the wolf's soft nose. Tristan couldn't help but give a low moan at the sight, feeling a darting tongue slide along slick flesh and greedily swallow the flaring tip whole. That expert mouth knew many tricks, most which the horse could not fully fathom, but his paws were quick to push down against that male's head with keenness to welcome more. He pressed more of his member in, pushing perhaps an inch or two more into that warm muzzle and closing his eyes. The tent allowed little movement, given he was sat on his haunches over the waist of Asher, but he tried deftly to lift his head up in a gasp of intense sensation despite his hunched back. The tight suction about his shaft was mesmerizingly joyful, and without any permission from the wolf he eased himself forward a few more inches. His manhood had not quite reached its point of full hardness; it was still flaccid to the touch regardless as to the length it had extended. Asher was therefore at the mercy of the stallion's nursing erection, which coiled about in his mouth the caressing angle until that flared head began to push down the wolf's throat. He squirmed and moaned about the girth, but to no avail. The horse was in control now. A second paw joined the first, and Tristan grasped the skull between them, thumbs finding the pointed ears and using them almost as purchases for which to gain a better grip. They clamped down hard as the horse pushed in, refusing to stop no matter how loud the wolf groaned or how much he struggled. He didn't halt until the sweat of his crotch ran along Asher's muzzle, his balls dangling against the coarse chin of his and his pubic fur filling the wolf's soft nose. Tristan grunted rambunctiously when he hilted the muzzle, feeling his shaft enveloped on all sides by this velvet passage, happy and content that he was at least sated physically. He pushed the wolf's face onto his groin hard, attempting to fit all that he could so as to relish the sensation for later memories. But, with a member his size, he had to withdraw at some point to allow Asher to breathe. When he began to writhe, clearly in a panic, the stallion drew back and pulled himself to his haunches once more, his cock sliding free from the mouth with a quiet slurp. Asher followed that up with haggard breaths, panting to refill his deprived lungs, oblivious to a line of spit that connected his lips to the tip of Tristan's meat. The horse ignored his distress as he recuperated, stroking his member idly whilst he waited for a second try.

"You must slow down, brother..." The wolf heaved, still sucking his plentiful of air, "I will choke if you're not careful. I know you are much proud of your size, and I am most pleased to serve it, but you need to take more care." Tristan growled, hardening his grip along the side of Asher's head that still remained,

"Insolent wolf... You are too weak and too cowardly to be a man. You are a woman with the wrong tools," He laughed, looming over the wolf who now looked quite fearful; "You think I don't see that lust in your eyes when I use you? I am not oblivious to your desperate need to submit yourself. I am certain I'm not the first, nor shall I be your kinder master. If you are willing to serve, you serve me fully, to every end without question. Not as a supposed man, but the woman you are." Tristan sneered, leaning down, "If this is to work, when we get to the kingdom, for whatever happens beyond that, you are my woman, not my man. You are my_wife and you shall serve only_ me_."_

The wolf's expression blushed, a heavy scarlet, infused with both embarrassment and humiliation. Tristan wasn't even aware he was speaking the words before he'd said them, yet still they had flowed freely and with much consent. Deep down, whilst he quailed at the thought of someone learning their secret, he longed for this wolf to be his bed warmer. It was an odd proposal, perhaps one that bordered upon the obscene, but it was one all the same; Asher whispered his response,

"Yes sir..."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Tristan's mouth as he leaned forwards again with his hips. The wolf obliged once more and began to suck along the shaft, the head sliding in with ease only to be followed by the shaft. It was a trickier second time given Asher's resistance to what he knew would potentially choke him and that the horse's member had now begun to pulsate with thickening blood. But the stallion was persistent and rejected any notion to back down now; he slid his length in, the medial ring popping past those sweet lips and further still until his crotch was back to its rightful home pressed into the wolf's face. He could feel the sharp rush of air wheeze through his fur as Asher breathed through his nose to the best of his ability, his body rigid with the tension. Tristan looked behind him, to the wolf's groin, to see if he was right about his assumption. Sure enough a cock poked up back at him, dribbling copious amounts of seed that snaked along Asher's abdomen, showing his true desires quite plainly. He got off on this, the domination and subjugation - to feel one male take advantage of him. Up until now they had been playing it coyly, treading softly, but the horse was at his limit for chivalry. With the implications bearing down on him for his conscious, he was going to make the most of a subservient wolf. It would seem contrary to his species' agenda in the war; he was very willing to submit.

Tristan started off his fucking quite slow. He didn't want to overload the wolf's muzzle which surely must be aching by now. Those lips, as delectable as they were, looked stretched to a limit he daren't push too far. Though the wolf was already accustomed to him and his measures, Tristan knew that time favoured a return to normal. With that in mind, whilst one paw carried on grappling the wolf's head and pushing him down onto his cock each time he pulled back for the up-thrust, he let his fingers once again wander back. They stroked along his length quite briefly, soaking themselves rather in pre than to give Asher a momentary pleasure - Tristan was still firmly set against letting himself believe the wolf was a male from now on considering his disposition - before the digits traced back further still down his taint. They found the slack hole, pressing in deep with three fingers now and began to gentle swirl and push against the rim. Asher, still preoccupied with the meat that slid back and forth within his maw, groaned, his body bucking against those fingers. Trapped beneath the stallion's weight he could do nothing but moan about that cock, sending the vibrations of his throat running down the shaft's sensitive flesh. Tristan grunted in unison, feeling the added pleasure which only served to spur him on to finger that wolf's cunt all the more. He would take great pleasure in claiming the hole for a second time. He was readily prepared to break in the wolf as a true mare to such a powerful stud, even if he did say so himself.

Therefore with his new mission in mind, he pulled himself back off of his willing mare for the night. Asher whined, having gotten past his precondition to fear gagging in favour of serving the horse's member and wanting more, but Tristan gave him a fierce glare. The whimpering swiftly stopped, that crude blush once more returning to the wolf's cheeks. Pulling himself back, the stallion settled himself onto his backside as he swung his legs inwards. He grasped each of Asher's ankles within one paw before lifting them up and backwards over the slender body. The submission truly shone through then, as not only did the wolf allow himself to be manhandled roughly into position but his tailhole pulsed to Tristan's gaze. He grabbed his thighs and pulled himself back to present himself fully to the horse, his breathing becoming more ragged from the anticipation of a second breeding. Tristan was just inches away, his fat cock head already dripping as it waited for its master to plunge him into forbidden depths. It was so enticing, the slick rim flaring out as it begged to be filled again, already brimming with one deposit of rich horse seed. Tristan vowed to add another, and another, and another, until his balls screamed for mercy just as loudly as the wolf would. He would breed this mare until she had no choice else but to be pregnant, regardless of her supposed gender.

Tristan whinnied, growling to himself as he shifted his hips forwards and pressed his flat engorged head against the equally engorged hole; hardness meeting slack as he plunged his first inches inside the wolf's behind, much to the male's delight. Asher squealed and writhed on his back as the stallion held firm for a moment; his manhood was sheathed once more in a man's behind, but the gripping feeling was unlike anything Tristan had felt before. He had bedded many women, maids from ale houses, whores from gutters, even the odd lass from nobility, and all through his time he had never acquainted the ass of a man to be so... intoxicating_. For years to him it had been forbidden, as a temptress's fruit, and even when offered if he paid handsomely he still declined from anyone. But here he was now, in some forsaken corner of homeland's fields, stuffing his member into a rump. The rump of a man, no less! Had he looked at himself now, from any outside perspective, he would loathe himself. But that was not him, nor was there anyone to stop him. The ass cocooned his cock in a way that no woman could; it was as though every inch was being sucked in all manners of ways, the lack of teeth and unnecessary tongue making it for a smooth tunnelled run. The fear of bearing children no longer an issue; yes, were Asher not endowed with the maleness he was between his legs then he would have made a fine partner. Slower and slower, deeper and deeper, resistance handing over to desperate acceptance as though those inner muscles were waving in the intruder, beckoning him further into their folds - Tristan was quite happy to oblige._

He gave off a gasp mixed between relief and shock as he finally bottomed out once more into the wolf's welcoming hole. Asher squealed beneath him softly, knowing that a complete fullness must have felt overwhelming, particularly for a horse his size regardless of how well acquainted Tristan's cock was with his ass. He settled there for a moment, shuffling forward on his knees so that he was now comfortable sat against the wolf, his lap warmed by the pliable cheeks of his behind. A wolf cock greeted him, though not entirely hard it still pooled a sticky line of white across his stomach, those balls nestled just against the horse's crotch. Tristan wondered absently as he waited for the clenching muscles of the pink ring to die away what he would do with the two orbs dangling between the male's legs. He could always have them removed, cut off by a physician willing to not ask any questions were he to leave with a heavier purse than before, but it felt too cruel. The stallion knew that a man's jewels were exactly that, and were to be treasured. They were a source of pleasure, of life itself, though he realised few to no cubs at all would be sown from them in a woman's womb. He encircled a paw about the wolf's sack, letting the balls roll onto his palm. They were hot to the touch, Asher squirming as he watched Tristan's blank face regard them; he would not slice them off, no, it was too extreme, but something had to be done about the wolf's maleness though were he to pass as any lady - if a man could truly be lady-like. In his distant state, he squeezed and toyed with the sack, making Asher grunt and writhe as torturous pain raced through him. The stallion could see that much from his face, how it contorted into an agonised moan of bliss, mouth opened into a hole he would have loved to plug full again. It was the sign of a man caught within his weakness of sex, the sensation only heightened by the presumable sensation of being stuffed like a banquet roast. As much as would have liked to have mused the answers to his predicament though, the horse had a far more pressing matter to attend to, or rather the now loose and relaxed matter that encased his much greater maleness.

As he pulled his hips back, he could feel those walls weakly cling to him, the flare tugging from all sides against the retreating innards. It was like gliding a tube of meat along his shaft, heated through and dripping in his juices. Tristan was no fool to sloppy seconds. He remembered, through a fog of drunkenness, that he had once shared a young wench they'd picked up after marching home from a campaign, where he'd taken his time having his balls dribbled upon before his cock was engulfed in a needy mouth whilst a fellow soldier had hammered away at her dripping cunt before Tristan had taken his turn. Compared to the drake that had gone before him, what he lacked in ridges along his shaft he made up for a more impressive length, which she soon found herself impaled upon much like Asher was now, his cock once again coated in the slimy juices of a man. But the feeling was different, as the stallion pulled out of the ass he knew it would be a pleasure he'd long to repeat. No woman had ever let him spread her cheeks and favour the back passage instead of the delicate entrance. It confused as to why, as Asher seemed more than happy to take what Tristan had to offer, and the hole swallowed his member with greater skill and glorious envelopment that a female could never give. The hollowed guts gave ample room to dive inside, with no apparent end to them, whereas a woman would have asked for Tristan to stop much earlier before than Asher; he might have only buried half his cock until it would be too much for the female limits.

He drew out until the very head remained, the flare tucked just behind a gorging rim. It sought to plug itself, locked by a wider bluntness that would soon once again be pushing back apart the depths to seat itself once more in the slippery warmth. Asher grunted when he felt the suction pull at his innards, though he kept himself still, lying beneath the horse who moved to stand over him upon all fours. Either paw placed itself on each side of the wolf's head, Tristan's muzzle mere inches from his own, hot breath dancing across their faces. It was then that the stallion took control, slamming his cock back into quite viciously, eliciting a horrendous howl from Asher; the horse moved to silence him, a thick tongue filling his gasping mouth until he could no longer speak a word, breathing heavily through his noise as Tristan kissed him passionately. As the tongue penetrated past the wolf's lips and occupied his maw, so too did the horse's member as it buried itself to the fullest degree in his hole. The prostate, swollen and sore already, was battered by the bludgeon of meat, rewarding the stallion with the sight of a twitching and weakened wolf. The mouth was just as easy prey to him as was the rump, so sweet and tender, ripe for the plucking. As Tristan kissed his bitch into the sanctity of quiet, he let the sounds of their lovemaking - if one could call it that - to fill the tent. Sloppy, slick sounds of dick withdrawing from ass only to slap back in; hardened crotch pounding against soft behind. The smell too was thick and rich, a wonderful mix of sweat and musk, tinging the air in a delectable balance that had Tristan savouring at the thought. This, he believed, was why men were superior in the sense of companionship. A lady was too fragile for a man of his calibre. He needed somebody who would not pester him with menial things whilst he set his mind to war and the battle, but then who could accept what he delivered in the bed chamber, all manner of protest abandoned by the door. It may have been socially defined for him to take a woman as a bride, but he would always lust for a man, regardless of how much he convinced himself otherwise. They were, by nature, aggressive and strong enough to withstand his prowess.

He rammed on, his mind clouded now in the desire for release than his questioning of his morals. A hole was a hole, by all accounts, and it mattered little who it belonged to so long as it wrapped about his cock like a velvet glove. His shaft dug all its inches deep down into the wolf's gut, only to drag themselves back out again, sparking the jolts of pleasure along the sensitive flesh. Asher's tongue was darting forward warily to meet with Tristan's, duelling for dominance, a collective taste of bitter spit and spiced passion. It was intense, even brutal, as the horse really gave it all he was worth. Before had been gentle, he'd held back, but now he'd given over to the logic that Asher was like any other soldier - spy or warrior - and that he could take whatever the stallion doled out. His breathing was laboured, heavy and strained against the wolf's as he rode onwards like he would charge into a battle, and bearing through any pain or discomfort as every nerve in his body became a fraught jumble of electrified sensations. He even ignored the wolf when he felt his body stiffen, lurching suddenly upwards in an arch as Asher all but screamed into his muzzle, his hole convulsing terribly as it clenched against the thickening shaft. Tristan needn't have looked down to see the hot sprays of wolf seed splatter against the wolf's gut as he felt the jets squirt onto him too. It was a far larger orgasm than before, Asher actually having more in him than what had first appeared. Tristan though was better experienced, he was sure; now counting this as his third, he felt nowhere near satisfied. He broke off the kiss to allow Asher a moment of deep breath whilst he made a grab at his shoulders, pushing into him with his full weight and heavy force, the need to release rising within him. He pulled in and out in long, deep thrusts, making sure to power into him with the speed of an arrow, cruising into the depths he'd claimed as his, about to mark once more as his territory for what would not be the first nor last time tonight.

He bellowed, roaring heavenward as he felt the surge rise in his balls. It careened its way forwards until he sensed his member throb and pulse suddenly, heaving deep into the wolf his foals. Each thick shot was like a wave of cum, pouring itself in a sloshing cream into Asher's backside. His flare kept the wolf sealed tightly, the cum having nowhere else to go but deeper still, further than his monster had reached. By the expression upon the wolf's face, he knew that it must be seeping through such inner sanctums that nothing else had touched before, alien and ungodly sensations making the wolf squirm so delightfully in the throes of the afterglow. He rubbed a paw over the wolf's stomach, patting the bloated belly that now swam with his seed, the heat radiating through. It swayed and gurgled as though he were trying to digest the deposit, swooning and moaning in a delirious state, the rutting having been far too much for his poor mind to handle. Perhaps Tristan had been wrong about the mentality then of Asher's difference to women - he was still effeminate in that regard - but as he leaned back to examine the stuffed hole he still occupied, he knew he was true in his belief of his body withstanding the punishment. As he began to pull out his cock, dribbling with two loads now, there were no signs of damage nor did Asher make any complaints. Only when it came to the swollen and huge flare did he make a loud grunt and pathetic whimper as it popped free, the cum that had attempted to rework its way up his ass now splurging free across the blankets. Tristan sighed, for they would be unusable now and they would have to pilfer more from an unsuspecting local village. It flooded back out in an expanding pool, moulding its way around the horse's calves and buttocks, against Asher's upturned and gaping rump. The sight of that wet, dripping and winking hole, still gasping as though alive and now free of its suffocation, made him rumble deep in his chest, a fire of pure lust and dominance lighting up within him.

Yes... His mind was made up. Once he returned to glory and was reinstated amongst the knightly order would he then take this wolf was his bed-warmer and mate, regardless of the consequences.

Andrew looked up as once more the door to the restaurant opened. For a second, he believed it'd be just another diner for the night, perhaps another couple or maybe a small grouping of friends or family. But a smile played at his lips when he saw the impeccably dressed and handsome Arabian stallion enter. Chris scrubbed up far better than he did when going for a fancy night out. The horse spotted him from across the room and gave a polite wave; Andrew had to restrain himself from waving too enthusiastically back as he made his way over, manoeuvring his junk about in his pants so that the mild swellings of his erection didn't appear noticeable. The problem with having a third leg dangling between your thighs is that you can expose yourself with just the slightest flexes of an oncoming boner.

"Andy!" Chris beamed as he came up to him, "You're already here. And I was beginning to think _I_was the one running late." The stallion looked so beautiful in his suit. Not quite fully there at overly formal, but he touched upon it just enough Andrew thought; his hooves were polished to a crisp shine, whilst he wore a blazer with matching trousers, though no tie. The shirt had elegant looking cufflinks on them however, with his fur shampooed and conditioned so that he filled the air with a scent of sweet floral notes. Andrew realised it must not be a men's branded product, but it seemed even sweeter that Chris had gone to lengths he had for tonight. He cared little about his choice of fragrance - whatever he smelt like was intoxicating enough for the larger stallion.

"I'm glad you could make it. Was it any trouble getting out of the dorms?" The Arabian shook his head,

"No, they were cool with it. I left them to watch some crap film that they'd dug out of somebody's collection, so I doubt they'd miss me," A pleasant waitress dressed in a smart blouse on that presented her ample chest and black waistcoat approached them; though she appeared to be rushed in the busy restaurant, she was still, to Andrew at least, a lovely looking lioness with a name tag reading 'Jane', handing them both menus as they sat down and presented the Clydesdale with the list of tonight's wines. He waved her off, gesturing to Chris,

"Let him pick; it's his night, so we'll get what he wants." Chris blushed, cutely as ever, before he glanced through the names and selected one, smiling at 'Jane the waitress' who left them briefly. Andy took the moment to fill in the silence with a burning topic he'd been dying to get off his chest ever since the day at the coffee shop,

"Have you managed to finish 'The Knight of Sin' yet?" It was an easy enough start, subtle enough to appear as small talk but Andrew could steer the conversation then on from it. Chris looked up from the menu he'd been reading, glancing across the table with a passive look,

"Yeah, I've already moved on to other stories the author wrote," he leaned back in his chair, placing both paws on the table and clasping them together, "He's fairly decent, I can see why the university choose to study one of his texts. The one I'm reading at the moment's called 'Duty's Price', set in the same setting but looks at the life of the prince and another knight. I assume you've finished the knight's sin, right?" Andy shook his head, "Oh, well, maybe after. I don't want to ruin anything for you." Chris smiled sheepishly, before adding, "You know... spoilers..."

Andrew matched his grin, shrugging with a heavy roll of his shoulders,

"I'm not too fussed if somebody tells me the ending. Stories all tend to have that 'happy ending' to them where at least some stuff is resolved and good in some way triumphs. You don't tend to get many tragedies nowadays," He rubbed his jaw, brushing his paw through mild stubble he probably should have trimmed before this evening, "But I have to ask, why did you use a quote from the book when answering me back at the coffee place? You could have just said yes." He was right, at least, Chris could have just said yes before making a speedy exit. But he'd let Andrew stew, reading on, even having memorised all the parts of the book just to use it in some weird ploy. The Clydesdale didn't get why he'd done it. It felt dodgy.

"Ah... I wondered if you'd be bothered about that." Andrew didn't give away any physical response. He tried to remain as neutral as he could, though Chris had hit the nail on the head. He was bugged. "Well, truth-be-told I'd been incredibly shy about saying hi to you... I mean, I've seen you around playing the rugby matches against rival universities, and I liked what I saw. From the girls around the campus, they all told me how great you were, that whenever they'd gone been dating you it was spectacular, so I was nervous. I had no idea you even swung that way let alone have an interest in a guy like me. In the coffee shop, when you asked then, I'd panicked. I didn't think you'd have asked. I figured it'd be a friendship thing followed by you asking me for help with an essay or some shit, but then you'd blindsided me with asking me out... So yeah, I freaked out and did the only thing I could think of that worked out in both our favours. I gave you a 'yes' answer but gave myself time to flee... I didn't think I could stand to see the reaction because, again being honest here, you're actually by first date..." Chris blushed, not just a cute 'oh look I'm embarrassed' blush, but a deep, full-on blood rush that looked as though he was willing just to melt into his seat and vanish from existence. It went a league above cute and into impossibly hot. Andrew had to hold himself back from just standing up and dragging the smaller horse off to a bedroom where the two of them could pound it out for a few hours. But he digressed, pushing away such sordid thoughts. He wanted this to be serious, "Plus I thought that, you know, it'd be cool in a weird kind of way..." The younger male was stammering now, but he was thankfully interrupted when the lioness from before came back with a fresh bottle of what appeared to be full bodied red wine.

She poured a sip for Chris to try who take a precursory swill of the rich elixir, before giving a nod to the lady who proceeded to fill both their glasses. Leaving them to take their conventional clinking of glasses and to browse more through the menu, Chris managed to swiftly change the topic,

"You know I have no idea what I'm looking for when they ask me to taste the wine..." He admitted in a hushed whisper, giddiness apparent in his tone, "I'd be gulping it down if it didn't make me look like an alcoholic." Andrew grinned, letting the horse have a moment's respite from the humiliation of his confession,

"Same here; only thing I'm aware of is the taste of beers, and even then it's down to personal preference and quality. For wine, it's all just fancy grape juice to me." He chuckled along with Chris, letting their glasses gently tap one another and followed it up with a sharp mouthful of the stuff, his tongue washed with the heady and pungent taste of the aromatic liquid. The older stallion would never get used to wine, regardless of how much he drank. It was too posh for him.

"I don't even know what half the stuff on this menu means..." Chris giggled to himself, running his finger down the list and reading the odd one out, "Like, what the hell is that sauce they have going with the steak?" Andrew laughed all the same, though he was no longer listening. He watched the Arabian horse talk on but the sound drowned out to silence, seeing the young male look happy and content. It was a pleasure to see him so relaxed and enjoying himself, even if it were only for tonight, he could go home happy knowing he'd made the stallion's night. His mind was buzzing with the faint misting of booze, but he was determined not to hurt this horse, for to him, smelling so sweetly of summer's bloom and with an expression of softened gold, he dared to let himself believe he might be in love.

He took a second gulp of the wine, returning himself to the night.