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Standard disclaimer:

This is a furry adult story containing gay males in sexual situations as well as explicit language and descriptions. No kids are allowed so this story is only for those who are 18/21 or whatever the age is at your legislation. If you are not of the legal age, you shouldn't view this story because you might lose your innocence. Also, by browsing this story you have done so by your own consent and wish to view such material. if you do not wish to view such material you should leave this site immediately.

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Hello, all!

This is a result of two days' of writing out of a single burst of inspiration. I hope it's up to scratch.

If you like the story, why not take a moment to comment, vote or fav?

It all will help me to become a better writer.

This story is dedicated for all of my readers, and especial honorary mention goes for those who whipped me onwards to write this into completion at 2:45 in the morning. You know who you are!

Yay for the first story of 2011!

Now, onwards with some epoch furry drama!

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_ Amsterdam, 1913 _

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Like a poem, a song begins with the first note. The first sound that escapes from the plucking of a string, the flow of air into an instrument or the beat of a drum...that sound is the lifeblood of music, and art. It is the first brave manifestation of art, a piece of unique creation that is as temporary as the life itself. It only lingers on for that brief moment it has the will and courage to live on, before the time swallows that transient flicker of ingenuity back into the darkness of eternal continuum.

These thoughts, however, were not in the minds of those three dozen or so furs sitting inside the smoky basement room of the nightclub when the saxophone spouted out the first, mournful tones of the song.

**_Watching for the right boy...

Waiting...for the right boy...

Turn your ears at the name

of the right boy...

Give your paw...

for the right boy...

Smile and wave...

for the right boy..._**

The performer on the stage of the small club was a rather husky-voiced fox singing while seated on a bar stool. She had heavy eyeliner and held her black-glowed paws close to her chest as she sang in rather beautifully articulated French. A respectful silence had fallen over the patrons whose eyes were gleaming beacons in the smoky darkness. The only movement came from the two or three waiters attending to the tables. Their white, starched jackets were in direct contrast with the murky air and the red brick walls adorned with cheap prints of Monet paintings.

The song continued at a slow pace, almost like a waltz, as the fox still wondered how it would feel like to receive the attentions of the very right boy. The song never caught a particularly cheerful tone, but the furs seated on the small tables didn't seem to mind. They sat quietly in their places, paws circled loosely around glasses and cigarette holders while the dully attentive gazes were fixed at the source of the sound. Black, silk top hats, white gloves, monocles and ornate canes resting against hips spoke of past times, their symbols now taken over for other purposes.

Harry help up his empty high-stemmed wine glass and nodded towards the nearest waiter on the move, soon gaining the starched grey wolf's attention.

"Wat zou je graag, meneer?" the wolf grumbled in that strange language that Harry's English ears still had trouble tuning into.

"Nog een rode wijn, graag", Harry replied, putting up his best effort to make the strange growling sound right just now.

"Een moment, meneer."

"Graag," Harry groaned. Yes, please.

The waiter wandered away stiffly, his tail slowly waving behind him as he walked towards the bar to fetch Harry's drink. The tiger smacked his lips and sunk deeper into the red velvet upholstery of the small corner booth he had taken over once he arrived a few hours before. The time was close to midnight now, though he wouldn't know. Harry had to pawn his fine pocket watch two days ago to cover his lodging for one more week before father would send more money from London by mail as the month changed.

Harry's head swam as he sat there, breathing in deep sighs. His belly was warm and his head skin glowed from the cheap red wine he had been chugging down throughout the evening at De Koninklijke Leeuw. That, too, wasn't different from the past thirty eves or so. Harry had been coming in every night since he had stumbled into this small establishment about a month or so ago.

He had been wandering the streets of Amsterdam, with too much money in his pocket, too little reason between his flicky ears and much, much too much confidence at his penmanship. The young tiger, merely 22 years of age and thus barely old enough to fend for his own in the society, had asked his father to fund him a summer of "enlightenment" in the Netherlands as a return for his good success at the university last year. Harry could not believe his luck when he heard the affirmative answer from his father.

He had spent the weeks of preparation in a sort of a mental haze, painting pictures inside his head. He would soak himself in culture and meet all those interesting people who wrote the poems to the flimsy literary magazines he would get his paws into back at Oxford. He would go to museums and stare at paintings and feel the angst associated with the birth of a masterpiece while contemplating a Rembrandt or a Vermeer. Then he'd feel the astral floodgates opening, and he'd take onto his pen, and write a novel about a very fur doing very special things. It'd be full of deep psychological insight and philosophy and build soulful images out of his simple, humble words.

Now, a month later, Harry had managed to spend all of his allowance, woken up with a multitude of hangovers inside the dingy boarding house, learned to say "One more glass of wine, please" in Dutch and written two pages of absolutely goddamn awful prose with his expensive, though now pawned, fountain pen. He had managed to pay the lodging for the couple of days remaining before father's letter would arrive with hopefully a large sum of pounds that could be exchanged into guldens and used to continue this...experience.

The song ended into a trembling sordino tune from a trumpet and gained a round of applause from the patrons. The fox in her black sequined dress stood up from her bar stool and smiled widely and toothily at her audience before taking a graceful bow. It was accompanied by a few wolf whistles from the small assembled crowd.

"Easy now, boys," the fox rumbled in French in an even lower voice than before when she was singing. "Thank you for the lovely evening, hope you'll come back tomorrow."

"Good night, Gaspard, you were splendid tonight!" a bear who had stood up from his seat announced loudly.

"Ohh, behave, you!" the fox on stage laughed and flicker her paw towards the drunk bear.

"Only if you go out for a champagne breakfast with me!" the bear bellowed and gained laughter from the crowd.

The fox on stage glittered as she walked along the stage bathed in the limelight, giggling.

"I know what kind of a good time you have in mind for a lady, Casper!" the fox called out in high-pitched French before she blew a final air kiss from her painted lips and disappeared off-stage while the laughter still continued all around them madly.

"Je drankje, meneer."

Harry's ears flicked as came out from his musings and saw that the waiter had returned and had just placed the glass down on the table in front of him again.

"Dank je," Harry muttered and got a very stiff bow from the wolf before he disappeared again and left the tiger to wallow in his artistic misery.

Harry sighed and toasted himself briefly before he brought the glass to his lips and took a big gulp of the cheapest wine of the house. It tasted terrible compared to the good stuff back at home, but one had to go by what one could afford. He put the glass down, yawned, scratched an ear and let his eyes wander over the club again. The room was now full of chatter since the singing act of the mysterious fox called Gaspard had ended.

That Harry didn't even bat an eye at the fact that he had just been enjoying a drag show, was a sure sign that he had already seen more than his share of the infamous Continental decadence. Everything in this artistic quarter of Amsterdam seemed to be somewhat off, when viewed from outside, but here on the inside, slowly, it had become only a matter of time to get used to the more...blatant displays of bohemian attitude towards the social norms.

For instance, there were women, even right now, who entertained gentlemen without a chaperone or an escort. Harry would see them walk paw in paw with their unmarried companions and obviously express a multitude of interest in their partners. There were drunken portrait painters sleeping on park benches that formed their workshop during the day. The furs on the table near Harry's booth were drinking absinthe from tall glasses and looked like the had been doing it for a while, too. Their glazed eyes and dull chatter was entwined with bursts of activity when they would break out into a song or reciting Goethe in original German. The wolf staying next door to Harry's room at the boarding house had knocked on his door at four AM in the morning asking the tiger whether he happened to have some cocaine tincture or perhaps some laudanum, or even heroin. Harry had bolted the door quickly and put the chair under the door knob to make sure it could not be opened from the outside.

Harry also suspected that illicit affairs were conducted at the very same boarding house under the seemingly unwatchful eyes of the elderly couple who ran the establishment with the help of their son. The night times, when he was home and not passed out from wine and artistic angst, were filled with suspicious growls and giggles emanating from behind the walls and the different floors of the tall and narrow building.

The hallways and the communal bathing facilities, too, in the mornings, carried that pungent scent that Harry associated with nights in his bed that also called for an especially heartfelt prayer in the morning. He wasn't exactly religious, being a member of the Church of England, but vices were still frowned upon, whatever the denomination, and he knew that the vice of self-gratification wasn't approved of. At least he didn't believe the things about rotting your bones and getting all lethargic, since the drowsiness after passing his seed only lasted for a moment and was replaced by a feeling of energy and calmness of spirit.

Here, though, that scent signalled something else, of higher repercussions. Harry knew that women would visit the boarding house that was males-only, and he had a rather cheek-blushing suspicion of what took place behind the closed doors. Harry also couldn't decided whether he should feel morally outrageous or...jealous.

The tiger might have been of age, but he was unmarried and of course the society would not exactly approve of him having dalliances with ladies. The university offered a world thankfully devoid of the temptations of approaching the fairer sex since the gates of Oxford were not open for the frocked part of the fur population. Harry didn't mind, though. It made easier to compose poetry about the unattainable beauty and the like, and he could concentrate on his studies rather than making love with the womenfolk.

Yet, the tiger was also aware of an even more clandestine world of erotic intrigue going on inside the walls of the ancient university, one that was whispered about in the old Classical era texts they studied so carefully at his college, but that dared not speak its name during the modern age. Everyone had heard of the Irish playwright Wilde's incarceration due to gross indecency, and even the most quiet whispers alluding to certain forms of eroticism were quietly kept hidden. Harry, too, of course, had found himself red-cheeked and feeling strange after catching the occasional snippet of conversation while enjoying a glass of port with his friends who would play word games in Greek and make references to passages...difficult to translate in these works that had been revered for millennia now.

There'd always be a lot of tail-swiping and back-slapping and hugs and other sorts of gentlemanly affections shared between the students, including Harry and his friends. Sometimes he would be the subject of these acts as well, and he'd end up feeling flustered and lay down on his bed with his head swimming with wine and poetry and the feeling of his friend's cheek against his own lingering after a goodnight nuzzle between the best of comrades. Nothing of that would be frowned upon, it was simple male bonding, Harry thought, and felt happiness at having made such close friends.

And yet here in the dark nightly world of Amsterdam, these same things took a whole different motivation in Harry's once innocent blue eyes. He would see poets and actors share tables, drink wine, laugh and hold each other's paws over the table. He had seen a beret-wearing wolf, obviously a painter, due to the stench of turpentine that surrounded him, feed strawberries to a young , graceful lion male who was presumably his model. Every other night the club would have dance on its small dance floor, and it would be packed by those who had enough ambulatory control left to take onto the dance floor and sway along to the soft waltz music played on the mournful saxophone. Most of the pairings would be of the traditional male-female kind, but on occasion he would see couplings consisting of two males and even two females, and again, Harry felt his cheeks turn rouge under his striped furs, and he'd try not to stare at the peculiar sight that he'd never encounter on his native turf.

Harry sipped his wine again and picked up the pencil that sat atop the small stacks of sheets of paper that lay on the table next to his wine glass and the plate that once held a small, salty meat pie. His hunger had been sated and he was doing well at keeping the thirst away as well, but one need remained strong and unattended for. His paw clutched the tool of his vice now, the pen and its marks on the paper, covered in scrawled letters from top to the bottom. He had many things he wanted to say and so little words to speak them out, it seemed, even if he knew English, French, a few words of German as well as passable enough Greek and Latin. None of that was enough to express the things he wanted to bleed out of his heart that beat strongly inside his swelling chest.

The tiger turned his bleary eyes down to the topmost sheet of paper and looked at what he had managed during the afternoon before he had left for the Royal Lion.

Marie, oh, Marie, why did you have to leave me alone into the darkness? My heart weeps blood at the sight of you walking with that man and not me. Why do you now walk with me Marie? Why have you made me into a wanderer of the dark streets of my London? What did I do to deserve this indecency? What was there that I could not provide for you, Marie? Was my love not pure enough in its intentions? Were my kissed upon your beautiful brow too assuming in their boldness? Did I stepped your toes when we danced under the watchful eye of your aunt? Was it not me you kissed on my lips when we found ourselves alone in the music room? Wasn't that me there, Marie? Please, Marie?

It was terrible, and Harry knew it more than well by now. He tapped the messy sheet of paper with the tip of his pencil, making even more grey stains over the cramped pawwriting on it, and shook his head sadly. He had not found words beautiful enough to express his innermost thoughts and feelings. He wanted to write about love and beauty and light and music and beautiful, soulful things. What he had on this paper and those underneath it was...disjointed ramblings of a man with too many iambic pentameters on his head rather than sense. His writing did not have a voice other than that of a fumbling and bumbling drunken fool hopelessly in love with a woman he could not reach. Perhaps, Harry thought, perhaps it was difficult to write about hopeless love when he had never been in love himself.

Of course he had pined over the odd lady, of course he had, there must be no young man who hadn't felt that pain course through one's bosom after seeing the lady you wanted to approach go away with someone else. That could be made into a few stanzas of teary-eyed poetry, but as far as Harry's ambitions as a fine writer went, it would not do. He wanted more, he needed more experiences, he needed to LIVE, and to fall into the gutter and wake up without remembering anything except the kiss of a parted lover on his lips. He wanted to experience everything and see every facet of life unfolding in front of his eyes.

Maybe that hunger had been the force that impelled the tiger to follow a Bohemian-looking Dalmatian dog into the mysterious basement door leading into the Royal Lion on that night those weeks ago.

He had first spied the notebook-carrying, carnation-wearing dog while mulling at the Vondelpark in an attempt to draw inspiration from the nature as opposite to a bottle of Bordeaux. Harry had instantly known that the Dalmatian, like Harry, must have been a REAL artist, and as thus, interesting. He had clandestinely followed the dog's antics, even going as far as using a newspaper as a disguise while watching the canine enjoy a glass of wine at a small café near the park. His mind went into an overdrive of romantic ideas, envisioning all the pains that the Dalmatian had to go to create his what must have been magnificent art pieces. Harry wanted to have an excuse so that he could introduce himself to the artsy dog as a fellow poet and a creator of worlds, and he wanted to have a soulful chat with him. They'd share a bottle of wine and talk about poetry and books they both had read, and they'd speak French, because every Bohemian had to know French to truly appreciate Proust and the L'esthétisme. He could even let his inflections become slurred and not be scolded for speaking bad language!

Harry's courage had not taken him that far, though, and he had remained as a quiet observant. His stalking instincts, coming from the long breeding of his ancestors as guardians of the Crown of the Empire, India, had taken over the young tiger's senses, and he followed the beret-wearing Dalmatian through the streets of the bustling metropolis of Amsterdam, fully believing that by mere observation he could become partial of the secrets of the dog's arts. The night had fallen, but still the tiger had continued on his way, following, watching and pretending to be more interested in architecture. He was hungry and thirsty and his footpaws ached from walking on cobbled streets with gentlemen's shoes, but he pressed on beyond discomfort, for art was for suffering...and he had found himself following the Dalmatian through a flight of stairs and via a green-painted door into this subterranean realm of poetry, wine and music.

His eyes had popped agape at the sight of the clientele - EVERYONE was an artist! Even from the scents he could pick up through the cigarette smoke - some of which was oddly sweet and different from anything he had ever known before - he knew there were ladies in there, as well as gentlemen, and that alone blew away the young gentletiger's mind. In fact, the first gentleman he walked past on the doorway happened to in fact be a lioness wearing a top hat and a full male's evening dress, complete with gloves and a monocle. Harry had practically gasped as he inhaled the man-woman's scent, fully masked by the application of a very musky perfume that completely took away her natural quality. The lady creature had tipped her hat at him and purred: "Goedenavond" before moving away towards one of the tables full of these fascinating furs.

Harry had also relocated the Dalmatian, this time sitting on a table he shared with some other furs clad in loosely fitting silk shirts and holding glasses of absinthe while smoking and chattering in what seemed to be a lively mixture of the poetic French and the strange and guttural Dutch native to this city. The tiger had taken a spot on a table and ordered some wine and stayed there and simply watched with awe at all the Bohemian vices being abused freely everywhere around him, and he knew he wanted to just sit here and watch and KNOW instead of just reading disapproving words on the newspapers. This was better than whispers in the cultured and neat drawing room of a young Lord attending Oxford, this was Harry's kind of people, with passion in their souls and the wish to express all that beauty in the best ways they could.

Harry put down his pencil and felt like that all he had accomplished was to make something to light up a fireplace. He flicked his tail under the small table in annoyance of his impotence and took another long sip from his glass. Perhaps wine would soothe his pains temporarily, though he knew that in the morning, a more physical kind of a pain would replace that coursing through his soul. Art is suffering, the willing victim reminded himself. He played with the pencil by rolling it over the nasty, dirty reminder of his failure and sighed deeply. The wine was burning his throat now, and he was again feeling hungry despite consuming the meat pie earlier, and all that wine.

The tiger sighed deeply again and slumped into his padded seat.

"Is deze stoel bezet?"

Harry's ear's perked up at the unfamiliar voice speaking, and he practically jumped up.

He felt a cold chill go down his spine despite all the alcohol he had consumed - maybe it was the waiter coming to ask him whether he would like to pay for his nightly wine already. Harry wasn't so sure anymore whether the guldens in his pocket would be enough to cover it.

The fear, thankfully, was premature. The voice did not belong to the lupine waiter, but a bespectacled lion dressed in neat waistcoat that was a deep shade of green and a creamy white, loose shirt, which of course was left unbuttoned. In his paws, the lion carried an opened wine bottle and a glass of red wine that was half full. Harry blinked at the fluffy-maned sight and just sat there. He probably looked puzzled enough to cause the lion to repeat his prompting again, this time in English.

"Is dis seat taken?" the lion rumbled.

Harry blinked again and stared at the lion, who also blinked behind his pince-nez eye glasses.

"Pardon?" Harry muttered.

"My companions...," the lion spoke and waved towards an empty table a some way down towards the other side of the club, " zey hat other arrangements ant hat to leave for ze night. I vas vondering if I could have ze honour of sharing some vine in your company."

Harry's muffled brain required a few moments to get through the thick Germanic accent of the lion, before he gave a quick nod.

"Yes, of course. Please," he spoke and gestured at the seat next to him on the booth.

"My danks, my frient!" the lion smiled and smoothly seated himself down only two feet away from the tiger.

The lion placed down his bottle and his glass and folded his paws on the table, those keen, green eyes studying the well-dressed tiger crammed into this dark corner of the nightclub. Harry breathed deeply and tried to get used to the other's sudden presence. He had spent his nights in the Royal Lion mostly alone, only occasionally daring to exchange a few words with some of the patrons. Now this friendly lion was here, with wine and smiles.

"If...pardon me, if you would be more comfortable conversing in French, perhaps...?" the tiger suggested for his new drinking companion, thinking that it might be the polite thing to do.

"No, I zink dat I prefer ze English for now, my frient! I do not meet Englishmen here every day," the lion replied, still smiling broadly at the tiger.

"Ahh...alright," Harry mumbled.

"I zink dat I have seen you here before, am I correct, yes?" the lion questioned.

Harry's whiskers shook with the breath he took to clear his head a little.

"Ahh...hmm..yes, I...I've been coming here for a while."

"Zen you are already a patron! Dat is excellent!" the lion exclaimed. "I vill toast for dat, my frient!"

The lion raised his glass high, still smiling, and spoke.

"For ze Englishman who crossed het Kanaal bravely to meet ze Dutch broders of his!" the lion boasted before sipping and grinning.

"Het...Kanaal?" the tiger spoke, puzzled.

The lion let out a high-pitched, almost purring laugh.

"Pardon me, frient, my tongue is slipping, I see. I meant ze English Shannel, of course!"

Harry couldn't help but smile at the continued mispronunciation and tipped his own glass in a toast as well, and took a small sip.

"Tell me, vho is ze gentleman I have ze honour of speaking vith?" the lion spoke now, watching the tiger curiously. "Or perhaps I shoult begin ze introductions! I am Erwin, fery goot to meet you!"

He extended a paw, boldly, and Harry had no option but to take the graceful paw into his own and give it a light squeeze and a shake.

"Pleasant to meet you, Mr. Erwin. I am Harry Chesterton-Arrowby, from Wessex."

"Harry from ze Vesseks!" the lion exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he let go of the tiger's paw. "Fery goot to meet you, Harry! A noble Anglo-Saxon!"

"A pleasure..." the tiger murmured, unsure of the suitability of the lion's reaction.

"Ant you call me Erwin, yes?" the lion continued with a near-perpetual grin on his lips. "Dat is me, Erwin."

"Alright...Erwin."

"Voult dis call you Harry, too?"

The tiger flinched a little at the instant familiarity, but then reminded himself that Bohemians didn't stick to social norms. He could be as rebellious as he wanted!

"Yes, please," he managed a smile to go with his declaration of freedom from his social mores. "I am Harry. Pleased to meet you, Erwin."

"Dat's excellent!" the lion beamed.

Harry smiled again, lightly, and felt himself relax some more on his velvet seat. The lion was sitting very relaxed indeed, with his tail wound about his knees so that the bushy tip was flicking near to his elbow. His paws rested against the plaid cloth on the table and he seemed to very much at home sitting here with someone he had met only a few minutes previously.

"Have you been staying in Amsterdam for long, Harry?" the lion rumbled, putting especially much love into his rrrrolling rrr sounds.

"For about a month," Harry replied quickly. "I am...on a vacation."

"A vacation!" the lion yelped. "Zat implies dat you are away from somewhere and not just from your native Englant!"

"I study at Oxford at the moment. A Classical curriculum, and literature."

"A book tiger!" the lion cried out. "Excellent!"

Harry didn't know whether he should be glad or irked at the fact that his prestigious college did not gain more attention from this strange Dutchman. Perhaps it was better that he could...blend in, and not intimidate this lion.

"I have studiet ze history ant ze arts ant ze philosophy an ze university of Amsterdam," the lion proclaimed in a more calm tone now. "I am vishing of a vell-roundet education and hope to pursue private tutoring as a career. A vell-roundet lion to teach ze bourgeois young of ze beautiful zings in dis worlt!"

The lion clapped his paws together briefly and flicked his bushy tail so that it accidentally batted against Harry's arm and side. His ears flattened at the sudden intrusion of his personal space, but the tiger simply huffed at the strange feeling and instead only smiled.

"That is a noble purpose, Erwin."

"Perhaps it is all in vain, but a man must have ambitions!" the lion smirked cheerfully before again sampling his wine.

Harry mimicked the tiger and kept watching Erwin as the lion rolled the high-stemmed glass in his paw and simply breathed in the aroma of the red wine.

"Hmmmmmm...but dat is all of ze mundane worlt, but vhat of ze beautiful worlt?" the curious lion pressed on. "I see papers in front of you, frient Harry, but I do not know if you vrite ze prose, ze lyric or ze drama! Voult you care to enlighten a simple lion?"

Harry felt heat creep under his cheeks as he saw the lion's eyes lingering on the stack of papers now half-covered by the tiger's paw resting on top of the distasteful pile.

"I...I have written poetry, yes, but I would hope to...compose a novel, eventually," Harry spoke defensively.

"Ze novel!" the lion smiled and re-adjusted his glasses on his nose.

Harry felt his blush intensify as he clenched his paw over the stack of dirty reminders of his failure as a poet.

"Uhh...yes. Perhaps one day."

"Vat is it dat you vish to vrite about, frient Harry?" the lion purred.

He leaned now so close to speak to him, that Harry could feel Erwin's breaths falling close to his face. He smelled of wine, and something else, probably what he had eaten before, and he smiled. There was a little bit of wine in his eyes, too, but they were clear, and attentive, as much as his ears that kept flicking whenever Harry spoke. His bushy tailtip still lingered between the two seated felines and kept brushing Harry's elbow through his jacket. It felt oddly ticklish, though not unpleasant.

"The inner mind of a fur, I suppose," the lion spoke quietly. "See through another's eyes."

"Vhy not vrite about vhat you see through your own eyes, Harry?" the lion inquired.

Harry shook his head quickly.

"I haven't seen anything yet that would be interesting."

The lion broke in uncontrollable laughter now, chucking heavily and throatily and patting the table with his paws and making all the glasses clatter and chime. He was so loud that he caught the attention of a few other patrons, but their interested in his outburst did not last long through the haze of alcohol and chemicals in their heads.

After what must have been minutes, the lion took off his pince-nez specks and wiped his eyes with the back of his paw while still huffing out amusedly.

"Ohhh you Harry, you! Zat is ze most delightful vay to put it!" the lion smirked and looked at the tiger over his knuckles while he snuffled.

Harry felt even more blushed than ever before, and was stuck in place as he just stared at the lion despite the acute embarrassment he was feeling over being the laughing stock of this strange Dutch lion.

"I...beg your pardon?"

"No, no, Harry, ze apologize is mine! You simply rilet me completely vith your statement there!" the lion smirked as he arranged his glasses comfortably above his nosepad. "You claim dat you have seen absolutely nothing dat you zink woult make for a novel. Vy in ze worlt do you speak such a ding? Everyone has seen dings!"

Harry shook his head and scratched the back of his neck, feeling confused by the statement.

"I...I don't know...I must have seen such usual things then."

"But dat is ze beauty of literature, my frient Harry!" the lion grinned. "Ze vay to make ze most usual dings to seem ze most unusual!"

"Is that so?"

"Of course!" the lion winked.

"Ohhh..."

Erwin the lion lifted a graceful paw again, and Harry found it resting on his arm. His eyes lingered over the foreign presence for a few moments before he looked up to the lion's smiling eyes. They were very green and very handsome, as was his face, with that boyish curve to his smile and the fine shape of his muzzle. He could have modelled for a painter, without those glasses, of course. At least that was Harry's opinion.

"Ant zat is vy you have come here, I zink!" Erwin spoke while his paw remained as it was, softly resting against Harry's arm.

"What do you mean?"

"You have surroundet yourself vith unusualness, of course!"

"Ohhh..."

"Have you seen anything like this before in your own lant, friend Harry?" Erwin inquired from Harry while still keeping his paw steadily planted on the tiger's arm.

"I do not quite..."

"Hussss, Harry," the lion smirked, still lingering close as he was, "ve here on ze Continent see dings in different vays than you behint ze...yes, ze Shannel! Dese furs here...zey let their natures run ze natural course zey vish to take, I zink!"

"What...what exactly do you mean?" the tiger asked as carefully as he could with two thirds of a bottle of wine in his blood.

"Zey...ve...ve let ourselves ze pleasures of life vithout ze vorry of...prosecution...of being..looket ze vrong vay for looking at vhat ve see as beautiful. Ve enjoy looking...ant talking...ant smiling...ant...expressing dese feelings vith our art...ant our bodies, if zat is vished to be done."

Harry's maw opened as he tried to speak something, but the feeling of the lion's paw slowly moving along his arm made his words catch in his throat. It was not a great movement, only a few inches onto both directions, never reaching his elbow or his wrist, but it was there, no longer stationary. He almost wanted to yank his arm away, but something in the lion's sincere smile made him stay put. At least for now, he told himself, nothing awkward was happening.

The lion's bespectacled gaze remained gentle.

"I...I did come to Amsterdam to...see things," Harry spoke after a moment of gathering his wits.

"Vat kinds of dings, Harry?"

"Art," Harry answered simply.

Erwin snuffled, sending his whiskers into a wobble.

"Don't you have enough art in Englant, my frient?" Erwin grinned.

"Not this kind of art...not this kind of people..."

"Do you mean ze Amsterdam or ze Leeouw?"

"I...I didn't even know about places like the Leeouw," Harry smiled shyly, speaking his confession in a rather quiet tone.

He wasn't sure if the lion was trying to...size him up or whatever he was doing, but something was making him feel wary about him, as much as he wanted to like the friendly and not too drunk at all lion. This man...Erwin...seemed to be a thoughtful male, even if his words were not always so easy to understand for the slightly intoxicated tiger.

"Zen you came to see ze Amsterdam, but fount something even more...alluring, yes?" Erwin spoke with his handsome face spreading into yet another smile.

"I don't know, really..."

"Zen why do you come here again ant again, every night ant sit here all alone vriting and vatching and not daring to go ant speak to those you would like to speak to, yes?"

Harry's belly clenched as he heard these words spoken. He wasn't quite sure of what Erwin was implying. Did he mean that Harry had come to see the artists, wanting to speak to them? Had he come over just to sit down and stare at them being artistic, stricken with fear and unable to approach them? Could he confess such a thing, of being so afraid that he didn't measure up to these furs that he could not even open his maw in their presence? What could he say anyway? He might have spoken their languages, but their words...he could not match those of the furs seated in these small tables.

Or...did he meant that Harry would have entered the Royal Lion simply to experience things that were kept hidden in his native lands?

"I just...," Harry sighed. "I'm not very good at it."

"Vat now?" the lion spoke smilingly. "Ze vatching of furs?"

"This," Harry grumbled and waved his paw over the stained pile of paper that contained his tainted heart blood.

The lion peered over Harry's shoulder to get a better look at the heap of paper. His intoxicated breath tickled Harry's whiskers and it felt like the tiger's skin was being licked by flames from a candle, or a torch from a time gone by. Erwin was leaning some of his weight on Harry's arm, too, but he didn't even notice. The breath alone was too distracting.

"May I have a look, frient Harry?"

With a shaky breath of his own, Harry nodded.

"Dank you, frient Harry," the lion smiled.

His spare paw was faster than the tiger's was, and soon he found a golden paw circling his wrist and very slowly and gently lifting his paw. Erwin was all smiles as he held Harry's paw for a brief moment before he carefully placed it down to rest on the table rather than on the stack of papers he had been protecting with his body.

"Dank you," Erwin replied and scrutinized the paw-writing now revealed.

"Is dere something you voult vish me to see especially?" Erwin spoke in a low rumble near the tiger's ear.

Harry's ear flattened at the tickle of breath against his sensitive, soft skin, and felt his heart leap out of odd warmth still spreading further along his body. His tail was flicking nervously under the table and colliding with the foot of the table, practically trying to coil around it. His paws felt clammy

"Ahh...I don't know..."

"Zen do you let me pick?"

"Just a moment...," he sighed and turned his eyes onto the pile.

Harry reached with a paw and leafed through a few sheets of scribbled text, trying to find something that wouldn't be just as terrible as the thing he had come up with during the day. The lion still was so very close that he wasn't sure what his self-preservation instinct was saying about such proximity. Erwin was in fact HOLDING him, with that paw still making a very soft movement of padded fingers along the fine cloth of Harry's black dinner jacket. He had no idea what it meant, exactly, but it felt friendly, and warm, and just a little bit ticklish, but not strange. What did he have to complain anyway? He was talking with a real Bohemian artist in a real Bohemian club, and they were discussing art and drinking wine and defying social notions. It was almost poetic.

He padded through the stack until a folded piece of paper caught his attention. Harry picked it up, flipped the paper open and smoothed it with his paw until the remaining still on the table. With a nervous jitter coursing from tailtip to his nose, he handed the paper over to Erwin's side of the table.

"Here. It's just some...little bit of poetry I wrote...last Tuesday...I sat on my window and drank tea and...I was hung over...", Harry chuckled darkly and snorted.

"I feel ze pain, Harry!" the lion grinned and squeezed Harry's arm more firmly for a little moment before he used his free and available paw to pick up the indicated piece of stationery and raise it up to a good reading distance from his bespectacled eyes.

It was incredibly nerve-wracking.

Harry regretted his agreement almost immediately. Erwin's lips moved voicelessly as he read through the few stanzas Harry had composed during bad spell of headache that had required a few drops of Heroin from his travel kit to get rid of. Harry kept staring at the lion, hoping to catch any subtle clues to the final verdict he was going the get by observing Erwin's facial expressions. He was unreadable for most part, though, since the persisting grin on his lips was making it very difficult to find the more subtle nuances. Even his ears were flicking one by one, with obviously trained regularity. The bushy-tipped tail tapped against both of their arms while the two cats sat there, together, exited and expecting.

Minutes crawled, and Harry again wished he hadn't needed to pawn his beautiful pocket watch, so that he could have checked just how long the lion had taken with his poem yet. He seemed to be taking ages! Harry decided to busy himself for a moment and took a sip from his wine, savouring the tang over his tongue and lips as long as possible before he finally swallowed the drink. He blinked and yawned and turned his attention back to the lion still perched there with the paper held near to his face.

Harry almost yelped as the lion put the paper down with a small slap of his paw over the tabletop as it landed. Erwin's smile still lingered on his lips. His seemed to be gleaming even more than before.

"Vell...," Erwin began, licking his lips with his broad tongue. "Zat is one vay to..."

He paused, sitting there simply and quietly and staring at the tiger across him.

"Ahh...yes?"

"...one vay to look at a hangover!" the lion laughed, showing all of his teeth as he threw his head back.

Harry felt his ears flatten and his mood deflate slowly as he watched the lion's mad laughter again. It must have been a disaster, he thought as he felt the bottom if his belly falling. It must've reached the floor by now, Harry thought as he waited. The lion was still laughing in a strange, guttural way and it made no sense to him.

"Erwin...," he pleaded as the lion chuckled.

"Erwin!"

Harry caught the lion's chin into a paw and tipped Erwin's head down. He turned it towards him, forcing the young male to look into his eyes properly, as he glared at the golden-furred male.

"Erwin...," Harry practically growled, something his finely tuned throat rarely did.

The lion pressed his lips together and the laughter died down, but his handsome smirk remained.

"Pardon, Harry, sorry!" the lion hissed between his closed lips, "It vas so much...ze pain glorifiet in a manner I have never seen before!"

"You hated it," Harry sighed as he let his paw fall away from the lion's jaw.

"No, Harry, no, it vas... extraordinary!" the lion yelped.

Harry's paw was caught in mid-air by the lion's. Erwin's paws were slightly larger than the tiger's, and it fit comfortably into the hold of those slightly curved fingers. The lion squeezed his new friend's paw lightly while still keeping his eyes fixed on Harry's.

"Gentle little visp of a man, you are, Harry!" the lion smiled a bit crookedly now. "Ant you even triet to turn ze ultimate suffering into beautiful dings..."

The tiger realized that he was now held by both of the lion's paws. One rested against his arm still while the other cupped his paw. A single fingerpad was brushing against Harry's palm, making soft circles...

The flustered young man pulled his paws away and rested them flat against the tabletop. This was getting too much now...too much laughter at his poetry, too many odd smiles and strangely gentle paws coming from an almost total stranger in a strange Dutch underground nightclub that was likely illegal in some way despite the lion's assurances that in this place, every...vice was allowed.

So what vice was going on here?

Images of paws held over tables and coiled tails while two furs danced with their bodies entwined together on the dance floor, a powdered woman-man singing in a husky voice about the beautiful boy she-he wanted to kiss and caress, and strange German poetry with only masculine personal pronouns used...

"Excuse me," he spoke in a low voice and averted his eyes from the lion's.

"No, no, no," the lion rumbled with a gentle smile from somewhere near him, "I am sorry if I upset you, Harry. Perhaps I am being...too Continental for your...tastes?"

The final word was left hanging. By the shifting of air against his whiskers, Harry knew that the lion was drinking wine again, and for a tiny moment, he considered partaking on his own drink.

Erwin remained quiet even after he had swallowed.

Harry rubbed his clammy paw over his face and sighed. His bleary eyes watched the room for a while, gazing over the chattering small tablefuls of furs having the time of their lives, while his heart thumped in his chest. He couldn't understand why his body was insisting on being so riled up, even with the effects of the wine in his system. He wasn't feeling calm and pleasant with intoxication, his skin was crawling under his striped pelts and making him feel very strange indeed.

"I...apologize for my...acting so presumptive, Harry," the lion spoke in a more quiet, less purring voice, though his tongue was still making love to all those rrr sounds that Harry's own cultured diction lacked.

Harry dared himself to face the lion again. He found those green eyes watching him with almost unnervingly attentive gaze through his Bohemian specs, and the smile on his lips was still as gentle as ever. The lion's paws were folded and rested against the tabletop while he studied the tiger.

"You...you didn't do anything wrong," Harry muttered, feeling his cheeks practically pulse with embarrassment.

"Your...reaction dit speak of a rather...confuset mintset for my...presumptive approach, Harry," the lion spoke in reply. "I vishet not to harm you, I assure you."

"I didn't think you would, Erwin, it's just...," Harry rubbed his own cheeks with his paws as he tried to put it all into words that he could speak without feeling like an idiot, "...it's just...what one sees here...feels here...it is not to be...felt, where I come from."

Harry's ears flattened as he felt like he was sure to embarrass himself in the eyes of this interesting artist even worse than he had already done.

"Ze Great Britain, yes, ze Britain do not look goot on...feeling," the lion spoke, "or even watching for ze beauty you vant to see vherever you vish to see?"

"You're not supposed to...see..."

"Dat is ze vrong vay, I dink," the lion spoke in a gentle voice now, "dere is so much beautiful dings in ze vorlt, ant it voult be a crime to close one's eyes to one side of beauty. Something very, very beautiful voult be misset!"

Harry's heart leaped again as he wondered on the lion's words.

"And...you...don't?"

The lion simply smiled.

"Yes, Harry, my frient, I have not tolt myself to only see one kind of ze beauty...I have let my eyes stay right open for ze worlt...ant for ze beautiful dings...ant, I do hope you vill not take it unkindly vhen I say dat...dat you, Harry, are not vithout your own beauty..."

The tiger had thought that he could not blush even more, but nonetheless, his skin seemed to erupt in some sort of flames under his rich yellow and black stripes while he felt the lion's gaze very intently. He was being...watched, as an object of beauty, rather than simply a fellow poet, a fellow....good God... as a fellow man.

"I apologize again, Harry, I must have spoken dings beyont your comforts once more," the lion spoke then. "I vill not mention it again, if you vish so."

Harry shook his head, turning his eyes to the lion's once more.

"I didn't meant that, I just...I...nobody ever told me that before."

Erwin's gaze seemed to intensify as he studied the profile of the tiger's face.

"Never tolt by a...fellow...artist?" he suggested.

Harry shook his head.

"Zen you have not yet met a real artist, my handsome frient."

Handsome now, too?!

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he felt a twinge of nervousness cross his mind. His heart was still hammering, and his nervous tail clenched around the foot of the table while he felt tension growing in his body. His breath escaped in a mild growl as he huffed his lungs empty.

"I guess not."

"Ze is not vrong to be...curious, Harry," the lion smiled. "And I zink dat you vere curious...ant dat made you stay here, yes? Come every night to see vhat goes on in ze Leeouw...ze unusual dings, yes?"

Harry held his breath down again before he could speak more.

"Why...why is it then that here...," he gestured with his paw vaguely, "...here the most unusual things don't seem so...unusual at all?"

"Zat is because we accept it as vhat ve vish to see...ant to experience, Harry," the young lion smiled, "ve embrace our...tastes in beauty, and make beautiful art out of it, too. Ve let ze inspiration vander and take all it needs to spark ze right kind of thought for ze art!"

The tiger almost whispered when he spoke next.

"How...how do you...experience beauty you did not see before?" he husked.

Erwin was quiet for a long while now, seemingly pensive as he let his eyes stay fixed on his almost empty glass of wine. The lion's expression was not something that Harry could really interpret properly, both blank and lively at the same time. His ears kept flicking, too, and the familiar tail wrapped around the lion's own arm while he pondered.

Then the bespectacled lion turned his attentive gaze at the tiger again, and Harry felt himself freezing on the spot while he waited for his words.

"Harry...ze only vay to experience...new beauty...it all depends on...just how...much you vish to see...vhether you are...if vant to see..."

Harry watched how the lion turned his right paw around on the tabletop, so that it rested palm up now. His eyes followed the paw while it was moved closer, and came to a rest next to Harry's own, on the table. The lion was smiling now.

"...voult you like me to show you, my frient? A glimpse of...beauty?"

Harry's eyes flickered between the lion's offered paw, his face, his eyes, and the other male in general. He couldn't help but wonder what taking that paw would mean for him. Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to, either...but he could not deny that he was so very...curious.

Still, he felt his whiskers shaking as he answered.

"I don't know, Erwin...I don't know."

"Can you truly know if you have not known such...beauty, before?" the lion suggested.

Harry shook his head and sighed.

He felt like he was being drawn into a strange world that he had only glimpsed at, from the outside. Now the doorway into this peculiar place was slowly being opened, and not only he was welcomed to enter, he was being beckoned to do so! The lion's gentle, purring voice and his handsome looks and his accent and his manner and his neat but Bohemian dress...everything was speaking of that strange place that seemed to be accessible via simply accepting that guiding paw. It was still held as it was, close to Harry's own, calmly sitting there and ready to take him and show him everything he needed to know. Could it be the beauty he had been searching as his inspiration for all that time? Did his heart burn with desire to see what Erwin described as the beauty from which the eyes were turned? Would the simple experience of it open his eyes to see everything he had always wanted to see?

"I don't think so," Harry finally relented.

"Zen, is dere danger in vanting to see vhat you see not before, Harry?" the lion smiled.

"Remember, nothing vrong can come from mere...curiosity...no harm...just...an exploration..."

His smile was reassuring now, and his soft gaze lingered on Harry's own eyes, making him feel like he was being sized up again. He still wasn't sure whether it felt pleasant or not, knowing that he was looked at. Harry wasn't sure what the lion was thinking, but he seemed to be very calm now, serene, almost. Maybe it was the wine, he thought.

"To...open my eyes, yes?" Harry husked quietly, slowly. "Simply to see...everything."

"Dat is vat I feel you need, beautiful Harry. Avareness of ze dings you haven't seen yet."

"Can...can you show me?" the tiger whispered, letting his breath escape from his lungs.

"Only if you vill let me, Harry."

With delicate slowness, Harry lifted his paw and softly pressed it over Erwin's. The lion's paw felt warm, inviting and softly furred, since the hair on his palm was very fine.

The lion simply smiled at him, and curled his fingers softly around the tiger's, closing their paws together lightly. It felt different from how it was before, Harry noticed as he tried his best to keep the lion's eyes with his own.

"Dank you, Harry, I promise you vill not regret," the lion smiled broadly.

Then Harry felt something most curious happening! The lion's tail had coiled itself around his leg under the table. The bushy tip was now tickling against his ankle while the loopy appendage simply was there, tying him to this mysterious lion's person.

"I hope so too, Erwin," the tiger laughed almost hollowly.

The lion let out a small laugh and squeezed his new friend's paw lightly. He looked almost shy himself, which was quite the feat for someone so confident and eccentric as he was, Harry thought, puzzled by this reaction. He was fast to react, too.

"Is everything alright now, Erwin?"

The lion chuckled again and licked his lips. Erwin tilted his head slightly as he regarded the tiger, and his smile pulled the corners of his maw up.

"Yes, Harry," he rumbled, "I am just..vondering...vether...if...you voult let me...show something...simple..."

The tiger could not help but shiver at the idea of being shown something new...the first glimpse of what was promised to be the most unusual thing he'd ever experienced as of yet.

"Right now?" he uttered, disbelieving despite his better judgement.

The lion smirked.

"Vhere else, Harry, than in the Leeouw?" he exclaimed. "Ze place for ze secrets!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at the lion's tone, and he felt momentarily much more comfortable with the fact that he had the lion's tail looped around his leg all the way up to above his knee, and his paw as being slowly rubbed by fingerpads belonging to the very same lion's own paw. His pince-nez-framed eyes smiled as much as his maw did.

With a nervous smile of his own, Harry relented.

"Alright, Erwin. Show me."

"It is very simple...," the lion smiled and raised his left paw, the one that was not holding Harry's own.

Harry's eyes followed the course of the paw as it was lifted and then came to a halt, slowly, over his own jaw. Erwin was now cupping his chin in his paw, the way Harry had done to him a moment ago to make him stop laughing, but now, it felt like there was another purpose to this. The touch was soft and considerate and nothing firm at all, just a simple feeling of pads against the soft furs of his face. Harry's whiskers jittered in the air as he exhaled.

"Close your eyes, and trust me," the lion whispered just loud enough to make his voice carry over the noises of the crowded nightclub.

The final thing the tiger saw before a smooth darkness enfolded him was the smile on the lion's face that seemed to be nearer than it had been only seconds ago. He felt the tickle of a breath, and the slight pressure of those pads cupping his face with all due carefulness. The lion's tail felt warm and heavy around his leg, but its presence was agreeable, just a reassuring reminder that even here, in the dark, the other feline was close and ready to protect him. Nothing could get to him, the tiger was safe...

Harry's breath caught in his throat with a strange gasping sound as he felt the softest pair of lips imaginable touch his own.

His eyes popped open involuntarily, out of shock, and he sat there, frozen, and the lips remained, and from the slight glimmer he saw he realized that he was looking directly into Erwin's eyes, only inches away. Their faces were pressed together, and their lips still touched.

The tiger tried to move, tried to break the contact, but it was if he was paralyzed by that touch unlike anything he ever felt before. His heart seemed to skip beats while the moment went on and on, and the softness of those lips simply remained as it was. The eyes saw him, unblinking and as glimmering with warmth as they were before, and he knew that the lion was smiling even if his lips were otherwise occupied...by Harry's.

The kiss finally came to end when Erwin pulled his head back by a few inches. Their maws parted with a soft smacking sound, and the tiger felt that his lips still tingle from the feeling of that recent touch. He blinked and drew in a deep breath while the lion simply breathed a soft, wine-smelling and warm breath over the lion's face. Harry opened his maw to speak something, but words failed him as he simply exhaled and drew another breath. His chest was heaving.

"Again?" the tiger heard the lion whisper as it was coming from somewhere distant and wasn't in fact spoken directly against his lips.

"Yes...," Harry gasped.

"Open your maw a little, beautiful Harry," the lion coaxed, still so very, very close to him.

Harry let his lips part as a nervous breath slipped away from him, and then he felt lips again, but they were not flat as they were before, but Erwin in fact had his lips covering his own upper lip. It felt as if only one half of his maw was being kissed now, but the feeling was even more warm and wet than it was before, and now he could taste the wine in it as well, but he didn't mind. Harry also realized that by closing his maw some more he could have his lower lip touching Erwin's, and that brought more of the soft, warm feeling, and he found it as intoxicating as the wine he had tasted before.

This was not a timid kiss, he realized as he felt those intensive lips move slightly, opening and closing against his own, thin upper lip. It felt almost as if the lion was chewing at him, but instead of his teeth, he merely used his lips. They seemed to undulate all over Harry's lips, making them feel tingling and almost swollen when those lips slowly explored Harry's maw. The tiger tried to breathe evenly through his nose, but the scent of wine and lion filling his head with each inhalation was enough to break his rhythm and leave him breathing restlessly between soft kisses.

Harry couldn't even believe how hot his cheeks felt once the lion left his maw with his lips...only to let his tongue touch Harry's lips in parting.

He moaned, quietly, accompanied by a purr that rose deeply from his throat and left him breathless.

The lion let go of Harry's chin and went for his glass of wine. Erwin emptied his drink with a single, easy sip and then swallowed, breathing out contently as the last drops of warmth were consumed into his maw. Then he squeezed Harry's paw and smiled.

"Perhaps...ve coult continue this...study...at a more suitable location, yes?" he winked.

The flustered tiger nodded. This truly felt like something he ought not to be doing while in public. He had just kissed a man, after all, and by the sound of the lion's words, he was intending to do it again. Harry was not opposed.

"Yes, perhaps...but..where?"

"I live near, you neet not to vorry," the lion smiled and lifted his free paw to snap in the air to rouse the attention of one of the wandering waiters.

It wasn't the familiar wolf this time who came over, but an otter dressed in the white jacket of his trade.

"Mag ik de rekening, alstublieft? Voor deze tabel en nummer 6, graag," the lion spoke in his guttural tongue and smiled at the otter as he asked for the bill.

"Natuurlijk, meneer, "the otter replied swiftly, "een moment, alstublieft."

Erwin tipped his head and the otter left the table. Harry began to search his pockets for his money purse, but he found the lion's paw on his arm stopping him.

"No, no, frient, I vill pay."

"But surely I must pay for my own drink!"

"Vat is all you drank, Harry? One bottle of ze vine? Hardly too many guldens for me to cover, especially for someone vho has been so delightful company so far! No, I vill pay."

He squeezed Harry's arm for emphasis, and with a quiet nod, the tiger stopped his efforts.

The other reappeared in a moment and handed over the slip of paper for Erwin, who gave it a glance and then provided the coins required to cover his own wine as well as that of Harry's. The otter smiled as the lion left him a generous tip and then wished them "goedenacht!" before disappearing and leaving the two cats alone again.

"Shall ve go?" the lion smiled at the tiger seated next to him.

"Alright..."

*

The cool night air enfolded the two felines as they emerged to the street again from the basement that held the Royal Lion. Harry watched and listened as Erwin drew in deep gulps of the fresh air, so pure after staying inside the smoky confines for hours.

"Ahhh, smell ze night, beautiful Harry!" he exclaimed with pleasure and rubbed his paws all over his buffed chest.

The lion's tail swayed lively behind him as he threw he head back and blew out his breath loudly. He was purring by it was over.

"It is lovely..."

The boisterous lion smiled and patted his new friend's back with a paw, and didn't hurry with that act by the least. In fact, his paw lingered as it slowly moved along Harry's back and side, almost going all the way to his waistline before the touch disappeared. It made his spine tingle on odd ways that also caused Harry's long, ropey tail to loop behind him strongly.

"Let us valk now, Harry, ve are not far!" the lion gestured at him and set off on the sidewalk.

It must have been very late already, the tiger though as they ambled forward, letting the cool air wash away the scents of the club from their furs and clothing as they walked along the lamp-lit street. A few cars and carriages passed, but otherwise it seemed that even the great city had somewhat fallen asleep for the very heart of night. There were few other pedestrians who did not pay attention to the pair of cats making their way along in silence.

Harry's heart still pumped strongly in his heart and his cheek burned as he would let his eyes wander to the lion walking besides him. Even he very sight of the man reminded him of the kiss hat had taken place moments ago, and he could simply not imagine what kind of things the beautiful artist could have in mind to show for him. Harry was sure that it would involve more of those kisses, and he knew that he would gladly accept them coming from this fine lion, and perhaps he would even dare to give one in return?

The thought kept him blushing and occupied until they finally stopped in front of a tall, narrow house with an unlit front. He watched as Erwin fished out a key from his pocket and let them in through the old wooden door, and they entered a hallway that smelled suspiciously similar to the one at his own boarding house dwelling. It was quiet here, though, and no lamps were lit.

"Ve go up!" the lion smirked in the near darkness.

Harry felt his paw being taken again by that of the lion, and he felt secure in the other's presence as they began to climb the narrow stairs into the first floor, and then, to the second, and again they climbed, passing closed doors and other narrow hallways, until they were up to the fourth floor, and yet another flight of stairs was in front of them, but this one ended in a singular door at the top of the stairs.

"Almost dere," the lion whispered close to his ear when the crossed the final distance.

With another click of a key, Erwin let them into a dark room only lit by some moonlight and stray street light coming from windows on the angled ceiling. It took only a moment for Harry to realize that they were in fact at the attic of the house.

"Just a moment...vhere is ze button...," the lion muttered in the darkness, and then Harry heard a small snapping sound, and an electric light was lit.

Three electric bulbs hanging from the ceiling bathed the room in relatively bright light and momentarily blinded the feline whose cateyes had been used to the darkness ever since he had stepped into the nightclub. Now he was suddenly taken into the light, but what he saw after a few blinks was more than satisfying. This was not just the attic apartment of a Bohemian artist, it was not just that, but it was in fact a studio!

It was a single room, but held all the amenities of living. There was a small table and chairs and an old couch pushed to the wall below one of the windows. There were wooden chests for storing things and articles of clothing, and a stove stood to one wall next to what must have been the pantry cabinet. The table was covered with dirty plates and empty wine bottles as well as an admirable pile of papers. Books were everywhere and mostly resided in piles made on the floor, for there were no bookshelves, but the seeing clutter did not look like a hindrance for Harry's eyes. Off towards one brick wall there was a low, wide bed with a messy heap of sheets and pillows covering the resting place. The taller wall towards the center of the house was dedicated for art, though.

Two easels stood there side by side, one of them with a blank canvas, the other filled with colorful blotches in vivid colors that reminded Harry of the infamous van Gogh and other followers of the expressionistic school. A clear smell of oil paints and turpentine had hit Harry's nose as soon they entered, and the source was not difficult to trace to a pile of glass jars full of murky liquids and brushes stuffed into them. Boxes of what he presumed to be oil paints completed the image.

There were also finished paintings, hung off the wall. Some of them looked like they had been painted in the impressionistic style, with that characteristic fuzziness being the leading idea. There was an image of what he presumed to be a park, with women walking with their parasols and frocks, and next to them hung an image of a classic bowl of fruit being depicted.

Even further down the wall, though, was something that must have doubled Harry's blush which had only slightly subsided during the walk here. It was a character study this time, and painted in a mostly realistic style. It did not take much for him to realize that the painting had been done here, in this very room, out of live model. The painting depicted a lion reclining on a bed - it was not beyond Harry's imagination was to envision the very same feline to that same bed on the corner of the room even now - his head held high while eyes were fixed at the unseen painter. His head was resting against a paw, held so that his facial features were not obscured by the position, and the lion was smiling softly. He was also not wearing any clothes at all, instead protecting his modestly only by the angle of his knee pulled strategically up towards his opposite thigh to protect whatever there would have been seen if it had not been the case. The lion's tail was pulled into the classical positioning and the tailtip rested against a knee.

Harry was shook out of his shocked reverie by the sound of Erwin's soft laughter.

"Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, yes...yes... my...roommate insistet on hanging ze painting here even if I dit not zink it to be so...flattering of me," the lion spoken from Harry's side.

He could barely turn to face the lion's gaze, so intense was Harry's embarrassment and catching an accidental glimpse on such a personal painting. He could not deny that it was a fine one, though, perhaps amateurish in composition, but frank in its...depiction. So much...muscle was openly displayed, after all.

"You share your quarters?"

"Yes," the lion nodded, "my roommate Hans left for Haag to see some of ze new paintings by a frient of his. He left me all alone here!"

I...presume he was the one to...?"

"Yes, it vas Hans who insistet on me being ze model for one of his...studies in anatomy," the lion chuckled purringly once more as he eyed the tiger with smiling eyes. "You enjoy?"

"It is...you...," the tiger muttered, trying to find something...less discriminative to say, "...you look different without the glasses on."

The familiar throaty laughter filled the large attic room as the lion exploded in chuckles and almost doubled over with his mirth. His paws were pushed flat against his chest as he laughed and laughed and hacked and spat like a cat. Harry simply stood there and let I pass, knowing from experience that there was no point in trying to silence the lion before he was done.

"You....truly...oh, goot heavens, Harry!" the lion rumbled, watching him from the sidelines before he straightened himself and rubbed his cheek with his paws to get some sense back to himself.

The lion still chuckled, and now he stepped closer, and his paws caught each of Harry's shoulders, and he held onto the tiger as small burst of laughter still escaped between purring breaths.

"Oh, Harry, you truly get to me!" the lion smirked, finally starting to regain his ability to speech. "Oh, you make me vant to kiss you right now!"

The tiger jittered in the lion's grasp as he remembered how the last kiss they had shared felt like.

He decided that to become a true Bohemian, he would have to be brave and bold. What would have been a better way to do that but to reciprocate on what passed earlier, and to also fulfill Erwin's wish at the same time?

Harry took a deep breath and leaned close, moving in slowly so that he would no accidentally cause their noses to collide or knock Erwin's glasses off his head. He did manage to catch a glimpse of the lion's eyes before he closed his own and placed his lips over those of the lion in his very first kiss.

At least it felt that way, he'd find out, as the lion's whiskers tickled his own, and he found his head tilting quite naturally to accommodate the kiss better. Erwin's paws on his shoulders spread out more and their touch become more intent as he began to enjoy the kiss, purring into it while he felt those soft feline lips over his own. The tiger let the kiss break only for a moment as he took a deep breath, and seeing that the lion was looking at him encouragingly, he could dare to return over to his lips.

Harry was even bold enough to find purchase for his own paws, which he slowly but surely raised and then located to the lion's sides, just below his armpits, and he held onto him while their kiss continued. He hardly even noticed when Erwin took his turn to initiate it, as he pushed his lips more intently against those of the tiger. Harry was purring, as was the lion, and their lips resonated with that strange feeling of actually almost breathing in another fur, held close by attentive paws.

Their kiss was nonetheless the central part of their connection, when their lips danced against each other softly, only broken momentarily for breaths and particularly strong purrs. It seemed that their bodies were gravitating together, slowly, as soon Harry felt the lion's chest press to his. It gave even another route for their purrs to mix together, and he found it a pleasant addition to the great number of warm feeling coursing through his young body.

Erwin must have been enjoying it in equal measures, for his kisses were slowly becoming more intent, more warm and with more pressure. His paws were no longer still either, for Harry could feel them stroking along his back slowly. Fingerpads moved over his spine and sent strong shivers all the way to the pit of his belly. Harry moaned softly into the kiss and found himself gazing into the lion's green eyes. They were indeed so very beautiful.

"Finding everything comfortable still, frient Harry?" the lion grinned.

"I do," the tiger husked as she felt her striped back caressed further by those gentle paws slowly gravitating towards his belted waist.

He almost froze when he felt them stop just short of his waist and what laid below, and his eyes must have betrayed his nerves as much as the little jump and the sigh. The lion just smiled and brushed his lips briefly against the tiger's in yet another kiss.

"Beautiful Harry...," the lion purred appreciatively.

"I think you are...beautiful, too, Erwin..." Harry whispered, for he felt like that such a statement had to be made quietly, so that only the right ears would be able to hear.

"Dank you, beautiful Harry, my frient," Erwin purred with his lips inches from those of the shivering tiger.

His eyes were bright and brilliant despite the hour and the wine and the tension thrumming through the air. The tiger's blood rushed through his body with each thump of his heart against his ribs, and he smelled musk with each breath through his nose, rising from them both. The lion's mixed with his own, two feline scents making an amalgamation unlike anything he ever smelled. It was so strong that he could almost taste it on his tongue.

"Voult you like to rest vith me, Harry?" the lion spoke then, his smile as handsome and comely as it ever was.

The tiger's eyes flashed towards the rumpled bed on the corner of the room, and he felt a twinge of nerves course through his entire being again. Would that be alright? Would it be appropriate to share a bed with the lion? Then, he also realized, that the apartment did not seem to have any other places of sleep visible, so he had to assume...

"Does your...roommate share your bed, too?" he asked quietly.

Erwin's paws moved up along his back and stroked lightly, making the tiger's spine tingle.

"It is a large bet, much room for frients," he spoke, and winked.

That sounded like reasoning well enough to suit Harry's slightly concerned mind. They could very well fit in without having to crowd the shared mattress. It would be fine.

"Alright..."

The lion easily walked them over the bed and coaxed the tiger to settle down. Harry landed with a small thump and found his knees pushed up almost to chest, since the bed was so low and there not much room for his legs.

"It is more...comfortable lying down, my frient," the lion, who was still holding him gently, spoke.

Harry could only manage a small nod before he felt those very same paws on his sides give him a very light push, and it was all he needed to settle down onto his back on the wide mattress. The lion shifted to the side briefly and helped him to get his legs and tail up to the bed as well. He rolled over to the other side and settled next to the reclining tiger. Erwin propped his head against a paw and watched the tiger quietly, and his arm went over his chest, embracing him sideways. The lion's tail made a loose coil about Harry's legs and warmed them against the cool air. He could feel the lion's breaths, too, landing against his finely kept mane and the side of his head. It was beyond ticklish.

"Hssssss....," the lion hissed quietly as he leaned closer and closer, and pressed his nose against Harry's soft mane.

A purr rose from Erwin as he held the lion and breathed in his scent from his mane, finding it masculine, rich and obviously cultured. He smelled slightly of smoke and soap, but also of very much of a male, and of a soft dap of cologne behind his ears. The lion exploring his bedmate's scent could feel the tiger shiver and jitter under his arm, and his words were quiet and soothing.

"Rest, frient...rest...enjoy..."

"Ahhh....Erwin..." Harry gasped.

The lion had began to kiss him again, over the smooth, black stripe running along his neck. The lion's lips made a soft trail over his bare furs and warmed his skin, as he went upwards along the side of his head, until he felt hotness on his ear. The lion's tongue had slipped out of his maw and now ran over the very edge of his sensitive ear, and the heat was something impossible to describe. The tiger moaned helplessly as he was lavished so throughout by the gentle Bohemian artist, in his own artistic bed and with his secret ways that left little to be improved. The seduction of his sensibilities and senses was complete, and he was at the mercy of the good will of the lion, intent on showing him what beauty meant for his kind of an artist.

Harry reached with his paws and caught whatever he could find under them, and found clasping the lion's neck with his paw, while the other one came to a rest over his back. He held onto him while the lion still explored his face and his muzzle with kisses and soft laps. The trail seemed to be leading towards his lips, and he was more than eager to open them when he felt that tongue brush tentatively against them again.

It was a new kind of a kiss now, that was more about tongues than lips, Harry was quick to discover as he felt the slick, fleshy organ make its way past his lips and rub against the softness of his maw. He could only gasp and lay back and leave the lion to show him how this new thing was meant to happen. He felt the agile feline tongue explore inside his maw, making raspy circles of the inner surfaces of his lips and against his gums while always being careful to avoid his sharp teeth. It took him a few moments to brave himself to return the new kiss. Harry's tentative tongue touched the exploring, fleshy visitor and rasped against it, sending another jolt of warmth coursing through his blood.

All this felt so good in fact that Harry felt his blood run thick and gather inside his belly and his...

His entire body tensed at the familiar feeling of heat growing inside his well-protected sheath, and his tongue stilled. What was happening now? Why was he feeling like he did in the mornings and at the darkness of the night when impure thoughts coursed his mind and heated his blood? And even with...

Erwin pulled away from him and looked down at the tiger's eyes, his face sincere and gentle, and his glasses somewhat lopsided now from all the kissing he had been doing.

"Everything goot, Harry?" he whispered.

"Is it...is it meant to feel this good?" the tiger asked in a low voice.

He could feel those eyes very intently on him as they studied his form, going up and down and then returning to his own eyes, as soft and green as before.

"It can be enjoyet as much as you like, Harry...and I can...help you...fint more beautiful feelings, if you vish me to give you them...vith my...kisses...touches..."...his paw stroked along Harry's side, "ant vith my own body, if you vish..."

The tiger sighed.

"What...what do I have to do?"

The lion winked and licked over Harry's nosepad, making it glisten with his saliva before he pulled back, still smiling.

"Just keep your eyes open and let yourself enjoy...," Erwin purred rumblingly deep from his chest.

That sounded easy enough, Harry could think as he let himself relax again, though the pounding of his heart remained, as did the slight feeling of heat and itching deep inside the protection of his clothes.

The lion, however, seemed to have other plans in his mind. He sat up on the bed briefly, onto his haunches, and began to unbutton his waistcoat. The green article of clothing was soon thrown haphazardly to the side as he began to open the remaining buttons of his shirt while keeping his cunning, handsome eyes at those of the tiger still lying prone on his back.

"I zink dat you shall enjoy my form better fram ze real source rather dan Hans' painting, I zink," Erwin winked as he eased the shirt off his torso.

Harry felt a little dry-mawed as he dared his eyes to wander over the curves and contours that formed the lion's body. He was all golden and creamy fur over a lithe body, not made for hard physical labor, but for artistry. He certainly had what it took to pose as a painter's model, for his lean body held the grace of a cheetah rather than the usually heavy set form of an alpha predator of the savannah. His mane was well kept and grew richly and decorated the entirety of his neck with a sort of a natural ruff or a frill.

"Ach...one more ding!" he chuckled and placed his glasses on top of the small makeshift pile of clothing on the side before he turned to face Harry once more.

"Can you see without them?" the tiger whispered.

The lion laughed with a rumbling purr and shifted closer to Harry now, so that he could lean over him and kiss his chin. He lingered there for a while, watching the tiger closely, smiling broadly.

"I can see vell enough vhen I am close enough," the lion joked before leaning in for another of his wonderful kisses.

It felt so easy to kiss him now, Harry thought as he felt the familiar tongue brush against his own again, and he returned the touch with eagerness of his own. He hardly noticed when the lion's body slipped over his and their bodies came together, while very little weight remained on him for the lion was very careful and kept it over his knees and paws. Their bodies fit neatly together, neither too large nor stocky for each other.

Their maws played while Harry's striped paws were ran over the lion's broad shoulders and his back in slow circles that made him purr deeply. He could taste the lion all over his tongue as their saliva was mixed in large quantities while they kept the kiss up. It was being traded back and forth by the tiger and the lion, both eager in their act of exploration. Their bodies had began to rock slowly against each other during their kiss, and through his new contact Harry became very much aware that the lion, too, was enjoying this on a very deep level.

Erwin noticed the slightly long look from the tiger below him and simply smiled, his wet lips pulling wide and showing his brilliant white teeth.

"Yes, beautiful...it feels vonderful...", he murmured before diving in for another sweet-tasting kiss from those invitingly swollen lips.

The lion lingered on for as long as he wished before he moved back a little, resting his chin against Harry's when he spoke in rumbling whisper.

"May I...make it better?" he questioned. "Finding your pelts..."

The tiger breathed deeply as he heard those words he had been quietly expecting, but they were not enough to make him lose his composition. This was now happening, and he would see just where it would lead to.

"Slowly, please?"

"Always, beautiful," the lion grinned and kissed him before he sat up and settled on his haunches between Harry's spread thighs.

"Vant some help vith your buttons?" the lion smiled, gesturing at the numerous buttons on Harry's jacket front.

The tiger simply nodded and laid there as he felt those nimble paws go down along his chest and belly, flicking open each of the ornate buttons until he could pull the first layers of clothing apart and reveal Harry's waistcoat - and shirt-covered body. He did not pause but continued on his work, taking out buttons and small latches here and there until he could push the lapels of the tiger's shirt over.

"A little help, please?" Erwin spoke for the tiger and moved back just enough so that he could sit up enough to wriggle himself out of his clothing which the tiger appropriated and placed off to the side on top of the now growing messy pile.

Harry felt somewhat more exposed, now that he was stripped to the waist down, but there was no denying the enjoyment he received from having those golden paws slowly moving all over his chest. He breathed in deeply and puffed it all up, and began to purr as he let the air slowly flow out of his lungs.

The lion smiled and let his tail flick freely from amusement.

"Very fine, Harry...you are as smoot' as ze silk of l'Orient!" the lion proclaimed as his paws lingered on, pads buried through his furs to touch the very smooth and soft underfurs.

"And you are fine as the most handsome tulip to leave your native land," the tiger spoke with a grin spreading his face.

"Jester!" the tiger yelped and brushed his paws upwards, to cover each of the tiger's small nipple with a silky palm of his own.

It was a slow, deliberate rub, and Harry gasped as he felt those small nubs, usually safely hidden inside his chest furs, now become hard points of warmth that tickled and itched under the lion's administrations. He expressed his pleasure with a smile and a very low purr which seemed to please the lion, too, for Erwin now leaned over him, pushing his shoulders up as if planning to pounce on a prey animal, and then caught Harry's lips in a sweet, unhurried kiss. They laughed and purred and rumbled into the newly renewed lip lock, exploring these new sensations without undue hurry.

Harry brushed his paws along the lion's curved back and felt the tension growing and ebbing as he went up and down, taking a very good inventory of Erwin's natural curves. He felt every much as good as he looked like. It didn't even feel so odd anymore to press his aroused loins up into Erwin's, where similar things were taking place. The lion groaned throatily at the feeling and pushed his own hips against those of the tiger, and helped to establish a slow rhythm between them, of mutual pushing and returning the movement. Their whole bodies were partaking into this game, now, from their tongues rubbing at each other to their heated loins, all the way down to their ropey tails intent on trying to contort around the other and into something of a strange living braid.

After another long, deliriously warm kiss, the tiger, whom had his eyes closed, felt Erwin shift on top of him again, so that he was looking down at the tiger from some distance. A slightly mysterious, warm gaze was all over his face while he regarded the tiger, and stroked his paws over the other's shoulders.

"I zink dat on dis point ve coult...enjoy each other even better...in other vays...," the lion rumbled and with clear precision he pushed his hips down to Harry's.

The tiger groaned as he felt heat over his flesh, coming from the pressure and the presence of the lion's body so very closely to his. He had to bite his lip to keep a moan from coming out too loudly.

"Vill you let me...fint us more pleasure?" Erwin asked again.

"Please...," Harry whispered.

He was mildly disappointed when the lion sudden sat up again and slid away from his body, but the heart rose instantly as he soon felt the lion's paws land on top of his thighs. They moved slowly now, finding his belt and with gentle precision, took over the buckle, and then the few buttons that held his pants down. Harry became suddenly very aware that he had been forced to take onto the town without wearing any undergarments, due to a limited supply and even more limited opportunities for laundering them. He realized that soon the lion would be exposing his most private flesh for them both to see, and he gasped at the idea of being so revealed.

"E..Erwin..."

"Husshhh...ohhh....you very, very beautiful all over, Harry...," the lion purred as his fingertips hooked under Harry's waistband on both sides of his hips and rid him of his trousers with a single, smooth pull.

Harry gasped when cool air hit his throbbing member, now all firm and pointed and resting against his belly, and it was all in plain sight! His paws clenched into fists with hit nerves, but he did not move to stop the lion from pulling his trousers all the way down and easing them away.

The lion stood next to the bed now, looking down to the fully naked form of the tiger in his bed. He smiled as he tossed the pair of trousers off to the side and went for his own belt.

Male nudity was not new for Harry, for he had attended a boarding school, and the other young males are the university were not exactly shy to show their forms. Skinny dipping was not disapproved of - of course provided that no womenfolk would witness such frolicking - so he had seen his share of unclothed men before. However, the sight of Erwin, standing there without his trousers, paws resting to his thighs while his hard member stood up proudly from his loins...that was something else. He smelled different, for instance, of deeper musk than any male he could usually encounter, and he was obviously very much aroused, too, by the circumstances where they had found themselves in.

The lion did not waste much time before he was again lying on top of the tiger, but this time all of their furs were mixed into a rich multitude of black and gold and yellow and cream. Erwin pushed the tiger's thighs apart more so that he could settle comfortably and push their hard members together between their bellies as he lay down, paws taking a hold of the beautiful male's body until their noses touched. For a moment they simply looked at each other.

"Put your ankles around my back, Harry, dat vill make for an...interesting experience," the lion smiled before he kissed his tiger.

Harry complied eagerly, hooking his agile legs about the lion's lower back, so that he felt his heels press into the pliant flesh there, just above the lion's rump and the base of his loopy tail. This movement lifted his own hips, and allowed Erwin to push his more flush with those of the tiger. This maneuver only served to increase the firmness of the contact between two layers of warm skin and fur with their hot, exposed members pressed together between them, trapped and protected. Harry could smell their musk now, and he knew he was leaking that clear fluid that exited his member whenever he would touch it in private. Now the stimulation was being taken over by the rocking of their bodies together while they kissed and touched each other everywhere they could reach.

Harry's paws caressed Erwin's shoulders and back, for he liked the feeling of the strength held in there at the lion's frame. Erwin's paws explored Harry's sides and hips before the came to rest on his slightly upturned rear, spreading and cupping those firm mounds of flesh while they grinded into each other. It felt very new for starters, but soon Harry found the feeling to be quite comfortable, and it added to the overall pleasure of their exploration. Their bodies moved together in an unspoken rhythm, their flesh caressed and touched and manipulated even without their paws involved.

Very soon it grew to be more than was comfortable to handle. Harry lay still as he felt familiar pressure and warmth gathering somewhere between his belly and the base of his tail, and he was about speak for Erwin to stop moving on top of him, when he simply felt the pleasure become overwhelming. Both his paws and his legs clung onto the body of the lion on top of him as he gasped and growled intently, his mind and very soul blinded by the feeling his pleasure coursing through him. The tiger threw his head back, moaning helplessly when he felt his seed escape his body and coat the furs of their chests and bellies. He tried to get words out of himself, trying to tell the lion to stop, to let him know what was happening. The lion pressed his nose against Harry's exposed throat and licked it while his body jolted and his pulsing member expelled the pungent-smelling fluid.

Harry's cheeks burned with shame as he lay unmoving beneath the now stationary lion whom was grooming his mane and neck with laps and kisses. He wanted to sit up, to clean himself, and apologize for what had happened, but as soon as he managed to utter the lion's name, he got a kiss instead.

"Needful, needful Harry," the lion purred after the kiss that had ended to a by now familiar lick over the kiss-swollen lips of the tiger.

"I am so very..."

"Satisfiet?" the lion grinned and winked.

"I shouldn't have...I truly..."

"Shoult do dat again very soon, I hope?" Erwin interrupted and nuzzled Harry's cheek.

"But..."

"Nothing is vrong, Harry...you are simply enjoying yourself, yes?" Erwin continued with his words, punctuating them with rubs of his chin against Harry's jaw and cheeks.

"Let me help you enjoy some more, Harry..."

"I..."

Harry's protest was muffled as he watched the lion's back arch again while he shifted minutely, exposing more of the tiger's body to the sight. His belly and chest were covered in white, sticky stains all leading towards his still firm and throbbing, red flesh at the apex of his thighs, now resting monetarily spent against his soft belly furs. The lion hunched on top of him was equally erect and stained, though he obviously had not spent himself yet, unlike Harry. He sat back now, eyeing the ravished form of the striped feline, and grinned widely.

"Very, very beautiful...yes...dis vill do...just let me...", the lion purred.

One of Erwin's paws reached down and very softly curled around Harry's once spent member. The of those gentle fingers pressed against the small, pointed nubs that covered the topmost part of Harry's shaft and sent small pinpricks of pleasure coursing through the tiger's heaving body. It was the first time Harry felt another's touch on that very sensitive flesh, and it was better than he could imagine it would be. His hips quivered as he fought to stay still and simply let Erwin explore him as he wished.

The lion held up his member gingerly, making it point straight up, slightly curved and firm, red flesh held carefully in his grasp. That very same paw gave the length of his ardor a soft pull, form the base to the pointed tip. That touch made the tiger groan and yelp the lion's name. Erwin grinned and repeated the movement, spreading that slickness all over the red flesh and making it glisten even more in the soft light of the attic studio.

He continued the touching for some time, and for a little while Harry wondered whether he was planning to try and make him reach his pleasure by his paw only, but then the lion simply released him, and his flesh slapped against his belly. Harry bit his lip down and groaned helplessly.

Erwin, on the other hand, was now moving again, shifting so that his paws rested over Harry's chest, and his knees were pressed down to the mattress on each side of Harry's hips, hugging them in a sense and spreading the lion's loins wide. He could see Erwin's hardness still pulse down there, leaking a steady stream of the clear fluid that kept dripping over Harry's messy belly.

"Another pleasure, Harry...another pleasure...," the lion spoke as he stroked a paw along Harry's chest and down his side all the way down to his hip before the touch disappeared...until the tiger felt those by now familiar pads taking a hold of his length and lifting it up again.

"Erwin..."

"Husshhhh..."

He both saw and felt the lion shift backwards a little, and their eyes met over the very short distance separating them. Then he felt something even warmer brush against his need, and the expression on Erwin's face changed. His need was pressed into something firm and warm and soft at the same time, and it was not the lion's paw.

"Erwin...!"

"Beautiful Harry...let me...make you feel even more beautiful..."

Harry's slick flesh brushed against hot flesh, and the pleasure already became almost unbearable. The heated friction was nearly too much for him to handle, and the tiger growled, clashing the lion's golden thighs in an attempt to make him still again.

"Please, Erwin...God...!"

More friction, and another shift of those hips happened, and he felt the pressure increasing even more, and his slick flesh pulsed. The lion's thick tail was raised into an angle behind him, that much Harry could see before his senses were again flooded by that strange, intense sensation over the tip of his member. The lion on top of him groaned and hissed quietly, and then Erwin though that he would explode in that very moment.

Erwin had taken him within his body. He had pushed until his flesh had relented and accepted Harry's slick shaft, the hardness of his male flesh parting the lion's and now claiming him. An immense warmth bore down on his length, squeezing him, caressing him in ways that the touch of a paw could never do. Harry opened the eyes he had clenched shut in desperation and saw that the lion was poised on top of him, his thighs trembling from exertion as he held himself still.

Both of his paws now rested over Harry's belly, spread wide for leverage as he hovered above the tiger's prone body, his entire body tensing and flexing.

"Erwin..."

"For you...", the lion smiled through a hiss and pressed down on him again.

The tiger groaned when he felt more of his member sink into the warmth under the lion's tail. That slick heat rubbed against the small spines of flesh over his length and caused them to be drawn down over the shaft itself, as he lion arched his back and ground himself onto the tiger. With several bursts of mutual growling and blinding flashes of pleasure, he travelled lower and lower, all the way until Harry felt Erwin's backside come to a rest over his trembling thighs.

The lion left out a deep sigh as he was now finally seated fully on his bedmate's member.

"Ahhhh...goot, Harry...perfect..."... the lion rumbled and held his head down, breathing deeply several times as he simply sat there, still.

"You...are you in pain, Erwin?" the tiger whispered between his clenched teeth.

The lion's insides touched him everywhere, the unseen motions creation so much friction that Harry wasn't sure whether his body or his mind was even created to stand so much pleasure.

"Ahh....no, Harry!" the lion growled, lifting his head back up now, proud and steady, as he was there, looking down at him.

"I am not in pain, beautiful, I am in pleasure...I have you now...let us...enjoy..."

Already the first movement of his loins over Harry's sent him dangerously close to the edge of spending himself immediately. Erwin sat firmly on him, and only let his hips rock subtly back and forth, creating a minimum amount of actual, visible movement. Within his body, many things were happened. Harry's need moved slowly inside that unknown place, surrounded by heat and pressure unlike anything he knew. The musky air surrounding him made it also impossible to think clearly.

In fact, all the tiger could do was to hold onto the lion's slowly gyrating hips, bite his teeth together and try to keep remembering to breath. Erwin's breaths were all coming out as purrs and deep huffs while he worked himself into the rhythm, taking Harry deep within himself with the slightest movement. The simple feather-filled mattress did not offer much springiness for the tiger below, but slowly he began to accentuate the movements with some of his own. He let tension grow in his loins and his legs as he pushed up whenever he felt the lion shifting upwards, and their bodies would meet with a soft sound that rang in his ears.

Erwin's body rippled fantastically, every muscle tensing with the effort of keeping up this secret act that was happening between the two big cats. His own member bounced up and down unattended, but he did not seem to mind the lack of direct stimulation, as was evident for Harry from the way it kept leaking and the lion's purrs were not subsiding even when the movements became more substantial and heated. He could not believe that there was no pain for the lion, but that was seemingly the case. Harry did understand that enduring such a thing willingly, if painful, did not seem to make any sense at all.

Big cats were not made to last very long, though, and after what can't have been more than a few passing minutes, Harry realized the growing heat inside his nethers was again signaling the impeding approach of his pleasure.

"Erwin, again, Erwin...oh, God!"

"Let...it...be...," the lion huffed, pushing his taunt body firmly down to Harry's.

The flash of pleasure took him over easily this time, for it was his second time, and it was nearly always the sweeter of the two. Harry gripped the lion's thighs firmly as he drove himself up and fully into the lion's body before he felt the final explosion wreck his body and cause him to arc his back wildly. The tiger closed his eyes and let out a loud moan when the lighting of pleasure surged and clouded his soul.

He only felt the heat of the lion's body, and the tension in his own, as he spent himself firmly inside the lion. He breathed deeply and only smelled musk, and suddenly he realized that it became even more intense than before. A heat spread over his face, and he gasped as his head swam with the scent of male seed. His eyes popped open and to his surprise he saw the lion writhing on top of his loins, one paw holding onto his pulsing member as it still spewed his seed all over the tiger's contorted body.

Harry lifted his head and felt something slick and hot move down along the side of his muzzle.

He didn't any more evidence to realize that the lion's coming had been with such a force that he had actually marked the tiger's face with his seed, now covering his chest and neck and face and even one of his ears in the tangy substance. Harry slumped down, breathless and hot and flushed beyond anything imaginable. The fire still burned under his furs, making his skin alight fit pleasure and feeling. His paws were slumped to the bed now, limp and powerless as he simply panted and rested for now.

Erwin, still seated on top of him, with Harry's member deep inside his body, seemed similarly affected. He released his spent member and then slumped down, landing on top of Harry. He lacked the grace that usually surrounded him, and he merely collapsed onto the tiger, the movement causing Harry's flesh to suddenly slip out of his body. The tiger gasped at the feeling of the loss of heat over his flesh, but the hot breaths of the lion on his soiled face made for a compensation.

Harry dared to open his eyes after a few moments, but all he could see was the top of the lion's head, his ears and the soft, golden furs. He tipped his head just enough to place a soft kiss over that crown, before lying back down. The lion breathed raggedly, huffing against Harry's neck as he tried to regain some of his faculties.

"Goot grief...," the lion panted almost incomprehensibly.

"Are you alright, Erwin?" the tiger whispered, running his paws along his back.

"One moment...just...one moment...," the lion huffed.

They lay together for a few more warm minutes before the lion managed to find some of his strengths and propped himself up so that he could face the fellow feline without having to roll off from him. He frowned briefly before a smirk split his maw.

"I seem to have...market you...I...my ardor vas...greater dan I anticipatet..."

"It is fine," Harry replied, though very much aware of the fact that he had a coating of male seed over most of his face as a result of the lion's tremulous spending.

"Let me...help a little, yes?"

"I think you have helped quite enough already, Erwin," the tiger smirked tiredly.

"Ohh, never, beautiful Harry, never...," the lion slurred mischievously before he began to groom the lion again.

His raspy tongue truly bathed Harry's face and maw this time, scooping up the musky stains that then disappeared into his muzzle with seeming lack of unpleasant experiences associated with the taste of that sticky fluid. Harry knew it more than well, being a male as he was, and sometimes curiosity got the better of the cat, but now...it was quite the sight to see the lion taking such care on grooming the tiger's face into order again as small reparation for his sudden action.

After the very raspy and very blushing bathing, the lion rolled onto his side and took the tiger into his embrace, holding him close with both his arms and his knee propped over Harry's thigh, and he gazed into the beautiful striped male's blue eyes, and gave him a soft, if questionably tasting, kiss over his lips. Then he nuzzled the tiger's cheek warmly.

"Dit you fint ze beautiful dings you expectet, handsome Harry?" Erwin rumbled with mischief in his affectionate, purring smile.

"I think I did truly...managed to open my eyes somewhat...," the tiger replied sleepily.

It was such a comfortable embrace for him, all softness and furs and musk. Combined with the physical exercise, the excitement and the wine consumed only an hour or so ago, it was not surprising that he was soon lulled into sleep while the lion's paws softly caressed over his back and mane. He felt warm, and he felt safe, and he felt like he had truly discovered some more beauty in this world.

*

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