This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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Christóforos stretched out on his back, his hair cropped around his ears, though it was not as neat nor as tidy as he would have liked. It was not as if, however, a runaway slave could just go down into a town or city (perhaps a village at the foothills of the mountains would have worked?) for a barber, if it was even customary where they were for men to trim their hair and beards. His beard was one part of him that Chris was able to keep neater, however, having brought an old mirror with him and a shaving blade that had been in the servant's quarters back at his old master's house, once upon a time. That time, however, was long gone, his bare face olive-toned, though his skin was darker and richer still with the good health and vitality that flowed through him in freedom.
Yet not all was well as he rested beside the crackling, spitting fire, dug down into a pit in the centre of the front part of their cave, with a chimney opening in the cave roof above them. He must have left a damp log in there, at some point, though Chris was not about to go out in the dark and replenish their store, not when he was so comfortable there. It was one of the best parts about being free: not having to do anything more than the minimum, if that was what pleased him.
"Re?"
The dragon half-glanced back to him, though the pensive edge to his gaze could not so easily be turned to pondering, not when the two of them had been together as long as they had. Hellfire -- they had escaped slavery together. If there was ever a bond to be had between mates, that was it, one that could never be turned back, not that either of them would have ever sought to do so.
Re sighed.
"Yes?"
Chris sat up, the dragon's quietness troubling, stirring up a knot of unease in his belly, twisting and curling as if it was a living, breathing entity itself.
"You're quiet... That's not like you. Not this kind of quiet."
"Sometimes quiet is good, Christóforos. It's when no one is talking."
Chris could have been affronted at that, yet his worry for Re only grew. There was something wrong, something that he had not paid due note to before. Who would he have been to disregard the worries of his mate, after all, if he did not do anything once they had come to light?
Not rising, he crawled the short distance between them, keeping to the edge of the ring around the fire, where they spent most of their time on colder nights. The green dragon watched him with one, large eye, his scales reflecting the light of the fire, though the lighter green markings twisting across his body could not be so easily seen in the dimmer light of the night.
"What do you want, Christóforos?"
