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Interplanetary travel was never easy for certain people. Even the most experienced of interplanetary travelers always had something to get used to upon landing on a new planet, be it a couple of seconds to get used to the slight difference in gravity or just a second or so to adjust to the planet's atmosphere. It was always something, and there were times where the adjustment took almost as long as the trip itself.

Art, however, found none of the usual difficulties with acclimatizing to Rua as a planet. Its atmosphere was very similar to the parrot's home planet, and so the atmospheric adjustment had been rather all too easy. He was also surprised by the fact the gravity was a little lighter than he expected, but he was not about to complain considering avians like him loved lower gravity. Sure, it had been a little harder on Rory and Shost, but even Shost had to admit it was one of the smoother transitions they had undergone during their travels.

And so, there they were, ready to spend their two-month-long residency at Tyrua's prestigious music conservatory. Art had rather been looking forward to it, but perhaps not for reasons one might have initially expected. Oh, yes, the residency was certainly nice for him, but it also meant a new city with new experiences in store for him, and for the parrot this was always the more fascinating venture. There was something about visiting a new city for a longer amount of time that he loved, getting to stay among its people and experience everything without an agenda set before him every night and day. And that was to say nothing of the nighttime adventures, and in a city as expansive and dense as Tyrua Art knew he would have no shortage of adventures.

Rory and Shost knew he liked to explore new places whenever the opportunity came up, but even Art surprised himself with his choice of adventure that night. Normally Art would return with salacious stories of his times prowling through the various bathhouses of other worlds, and bragging about the sexual prowess of other species throughout the planets.

Which was to say, O'Laighin's was an odd, incredibly tame choice by Art's standards.

But as Art stood outside of the pub, he could only smile. The residency's first day had been rather more draining than anybody in his trio had expected, and Art was so drained that he had wanted a rather quieter night. Even just from standing outside, Art had an idea that it would be just what he needed: the exterior was rather humble, the music he heard from outside of the walls was not pounding techno, the people he could see through the painted windows were just talking, and there was nothing wild going on.

As the intranet had said, it was a low-key place, and Art had a good feeling he would find exactly what he was looking for.

With this thought, the parrot walked up to the establishment, and entered. Indeed, as he felt more than heard the uptick of the music's volume upon his entry, he looked around. He supposed it was a quiet night, for the bar was not very crowded. Sure, it was only 9:00 in the evening and he knew activity tended to pick up later, but even for a time such as that there was not much going on. A few people sat around tables enjoying a few beers, he noticed a live band strumming the tunes, but other than that, Art found himself knowing it was going to be quiet.

And then, he looked to the bar. And there, Art had to keep from visibly gawking: there, tending to the bar, was a tall bull, perhaps the tallest he had ever seen anywhere of all the planets he had ever been to. The bull's strong muscles almost jumped straight out of his suit, and as the parrot looked on he saw how adeptly those hooved hands handled a mixer. But it was the smile that Art noticed most of all: It lit up his already attractive face like nobody's business, and it was the most inviting smile Art had ever seen, even if the bull was not looking directly at him.

Art nodded. He had definitely picked the right place to decompress, and he also knew that, whatever else happened that night, he _had_to at least try to talk to that bartender.

And thus, the parrot picked himself up, slowly making his way to the bar and sitting down on the far end. The bull seemed to catch sight of him immediately, and thus made his way there, firing off a quick salutation to the bar patron he had been serving before making his way to the parrot.

"Welcome to O'Laighin's!" The parrot blushed straight away at the bull's baritone as he slowly made his way over. "What are you thinking tonight?"

The parrot chuckled, rubbing the feathers on the back of his neck. "Just a rum and coke, if you please," he said. "Captain Aja, not to strong on the liquor."

The bull only nodded, twirling the cup in his hand as he grabbed some Coke from the tab and poured it in. In short order, he tipped the bottle of Captain Aja in and poured just enough of its contents to still leave the drink a dark caramel color. He deftly grabbed a lime wedge from a nearby container, before grabbing a straw and placing it directly into the drink.

Art nodded, taking the drink and smiling. "Good, not too strong on the liquor." He smiled, lifting the glass to Tsavik. "The way I get it most places, it's super strong. You almost don't taste the Coke at all!"

With this, he leaned forward, taking a sip and nodding. "And there we are, that hit the spot," he said. His smile broadened, before placing his credit chit on the bar. "How much?"

"Ten credits," the bull replied.

The parrot blinked, rearing his head back. "Just ten credits?" he asked.

The bull blinked, looking to the ground quickly before perking his head back up. "Yes," he said, plainly.

Art swallowed, glancing to the side. "Usually it's more," he said. He then chuckled. "Where the heck was this city in my life until now?"

The bull nodded, leaning a little closer.

The parrot blushed, seeing the way those biceps almost bulged out of his suit sleeves. He had to swallow, before lifting his hands up. "First time on the planet, you know," he said. "I have to say, in all my travels, I never thought me and the guys would wind up at Tyrua, never mind their conservatory." He shrugged. "String trios tend to happen when we're in town, you know!"

The large bull only gave Art a brief nod and a smile. He glanced down to the bar, Art assuming he saw an unfinished drink as the parrot then watched him dip down below the bar and grab some liquor from down below. In response, the parrot rubbed the back of his head.

"No, it's... a little wild how we got this gig, I guess," he said. He chuckled. "We're mostly used to playing at places like, uh..." He rubbed the feathers on the back of his head, his feathertips digging into the back of his head a little bit. "Well, nothing quite so big as a Tyruan concert hall, that's for goddamn sure. But, you know..." He shrugged, before exhaling. "We're excited. We've never done something like this at this level, so..."

The bull smiled at him as he poured what looked like sours into his drink mixer. Art pulled back, before watching the way the bull moved to mixing his drink.

All at once, he felt a sense of embarrassment over him. Of course the bartender was not super interested in all that: there were other customers seated there, after all, and he was nothing but a new arrival in town looking for a little bit of fun. There were probably other regulars to attend to, other people to worry about.

And so, the parrot cleared his throat. "Ah, sorry," he said. "You've probably got... Well, other guys to take care of." He bowed his head down in embarrassment, taking a deep breath as he looked on. "I'll let you--"

"What do you play?"

The question threw him off somewhat. Art blinked, turning his attention back to the bartender with wide eyes and arms that felt stiffer than usual.

"Wh... what do you mean?" Art asked.

The bull leaned forward. "Well, if you are part of a string trio, you would have to play something, yes?"

And immediately, the parrot felt the tension leave his body. He released a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his head as a wave of relief washed over him. He then leaned forward, grasping his drink as he looked up.

"Well, if you must know, I'm a violist by trade," Art replied. He offered a broad smile. "I may have gotten my degrees in writing the damn things, but I'm currently still performing." He smiled. "You've gotta do what you gotta to live in this business, you know."

"So I hear," the bull replied. He then smiled, before pouring out the rest of the drink in a nearby empty glass. "And who might you be?"

"Art," the parrot replied. He then extended a hand out. "And you are...?"

"Tsavik," the bull replied. "The pleasure is mine."

The bartender then brought his hand forward, clasping it and giving it a firm shake. It was the kind of handshake that Art found himself blushing at: Tsavik's grasp was quite strong, but not so strong that the parrot found himself needing to shake his hand out afterwards. And then there was the way he felt something arc off of the bull's furred hand as he pulled back and grasped the drink.

But most of all, there was Tsavik's smile. There was something warm and genuine about that smile that the parrot could not place, but it brought heat rushing to his cheeks. The parrot thus pulled back, his hands in his lap as he met Tsavik's eye.

"You'll have to excuse me for a second," said Tsavik. "But I will be right back, you can be sure of it."

And here, the parrot smiled. "I'm counting on it."

With a nod, Tsavik was across the bar, dropping the drink in front of someone else. And as the large bull made his way back to the parrot, the heat in his cheeks only increased.

----**----

"So at that point, I finally just said to myself 'you know what, this isn't worth it'. So at that point, I cut my losses and I left. And let me tell you, Tsavik O'Laighin, I have not looked back since."

Art was greeted with a small chuckle. Tsavik moved with surprising speed to tend to the needs of the many patrons all around the bar (which of course had grown more and more plentiful in the hours that had passed), but he'd still found time to talk to the parrot. That time was one of them, and as the other employees of the bar tended to everyone else, Art got the sense that Tsavik was taking time out to listen to him.

This made him feel extra special: no bartender had ever gone so far with him as that, and this fact filled him with quite a bit of happiness.

"Oi, barkeep!" Art jumped in his seat as a rowdy weasel came up from behind him, dragging a slightly younger badger behind him. "The other bartenders here says ya give body shots ta folks."

Art blinked in surprise upon hearing this. Of all the drinks the parrot had expected to see in a bar like this, body shots were the last thing he would have thought of. He looked around the bar, before turning back to the two patrons, and then back to Tsavik.

The bull gave an amused smile. "Depends on your definition," he said. He then grabbed a shot glass and a lime wedge, placing both on the bar.

"Well, if you're askin' 'bout definitions, I don't mean you doin' it on yerself," the weasel replied. "I mean like, the pourin' thing and all that."

Art had to bite back a chuckle at the weasel's identification, so much so that the badger found himself flashing an amused grin at the parrot. Tsavik, too, seemed to find it amusing, as he nodded and brought out a salt shaker as well.

"Will you be laying on the bar, or on the table?" asked Tsavik.

"Bar's fine." The weasel then jumped up, before tearing his shirt off and exposing his torso to the whole bar. "C'mere, Danny, take one off of me."

The badger blinked in surprise. "W-what?" Art could see the blush blossom across the white stripe of his fur. "Now?"

"No, in the warehouse ten blocks from 'ere." The weasel chuckled. "Of course here!" He then hopped onto the bar, laying back almost immediately and placing his hands behind his head. "How much for the shot?"

"Ten credits," Tsavik replied.

The weasel nodded, patting his rather pudgy belly gently. "Put it on my tab an' pour away."

And pour away Tsavik did: the tequila shot wound up right on the weasel's belly button. How it did not soak into his fur was something only Art could ask himself, and then he watched as the bull shook the salt shaker in the line leading up from the weasel's torso up to his muzzle. Art breathed in, watching as the weasel placed the lime wedge between his teeth, and he found himself blushing upon seeing this.

He then watched as the badger approached, his blush only growing brighter as he approached. "Well, if you're sure..." He then swallowed. "Uh, where do I start?"

The badger's hesitation was very slow to diminish as the weasel pointed at his belly button. As the badger moved his snout towards it, Art felt his pants begin to tighten. The blush that blossomed across his face was practically invisible behind his red cheek feathers, but he fidgeted as his hard-on threatened to give him away. Still, he watched as the badger licked his way up the weasel's torso, his tongue lingering over every particle of fur and salt before making his way to the lime wedge.

Art briefly turned to look at Tsavik, seeing the way the bull leaned against the countertop to watch. The parrot blinked in surprise: everything about this situation ran entirely counter to what he expected, from how into it the badger got by the time he plucked the lime wedge out of his friend's mouth to Tsavik's gaze at the action even to the fact it took place in a space as subdued as O'Laighin's was at all. Art had taken part in a body shot or two in his life, but in this scenario? Far from what he expected.

He was so caught off guard he was only pulled back to reality by the weasel accidentally brushing his beak as he sat up. He chuckled at his badger friend, before licking the badger's nose.

"See, there ya go." He smiled, patting the badger's arm before turning to Tsavik. "Thanks, man. Keep five credits for yerself."

Tsavik nodded, bowing his head. "Thank you," he said.

"Anytime for ya, dude." The weasel then pulled off the bar, walking off hand-in-hand with a still-blushing badger as Art looked on.

He inhaled, turning back to Tsavik. "You get up to _that_here?" he asked.

Tsavik nodded. In response, the parrot leaned back, swallowing a lump in his throat as he thought of how much of a surprise it was that he witnessed that.

Finally, he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, I just..." He blushed, looking to the floor. "I just didn't expect to see _that_here, of all things. It's a bit low-key a bar for that sort of thing, you know?"

And then, Tsavik looked at Art with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Places can surprise," he observed.

"Yeah, I guess so..." He then looked at the watch on his handcom, before nodding and leaning back. "Can I have another rum and coke, please? I think I'm going to indulge in that and call it a night for now."

Tsavik glanced at the clock, before nodding. He then swiftly moved his hand pour the rum, preparing the tap and pouring it in. "I hope you come again," he said, dropping the lime wedge in and sliding it towards the parrot.

Art smiled, nodding his head as he picked it up. "Oh, I'll be back," he said, waving the drink in front of him gently. "Just you mark my words, I'll return soon." He then raised his glass. "To new, unexpected places."

Tsavik nodded, before picking up a lime wedge and touching Art's glass with it. Art chuckled at the gesture, his smile only broadening before he pulled back and drank.

----**----

Art did not get laid that night. However, as his back hit the bed, he had the sense that O'Laighin's was not really the kind of bar where one went to get laid, anyhow. Even if the body shots had been broken out by the end of the night, he'd been in enough bar scenes to know by then that there was something a little too laid-back about the atmosphere there to be the kind of place that someone went to seek action.

What he had instead was something just as great: good drinks, good music, and a full feeling in his heart.

And then there was that bull bartender. As Art closed his eyes, that warm smile came to his mind again. Just the memory of it caused the parrot to purr gently in his sleep. It was certainly very un-avianly of him to do so, but he just could not help it as he remembered every little detail of that countenance. And then, he thought to everything he had seen: that sculpted musculature, that wonderful suit, his bright eyes that shone beautifully...

He let out a happy sigh. From what he understood, Tsavik was the establishment's owner, and seeing how that was the case he'd always be around no matter what the occasion. He wondered briefly if the idea of pouring drinks for patrons every night a week of the fifty-six week Tyruan year ever got old, but this feeling was overshadowed by the enthusiasm Tsavik showed to Art's comments the whole night long.

Either way, the parrot knew he had to come back sometime in the near future. And then again. And again. And then another time after that. Certainly, there would be time for other lurid adventures that he would be able to chat about, but at his mind then, there was only O'Laighin's.

And after all, he had two months. What else could he learn about the bull while there?

It took a little while, but eventually the alcohol had its intended effect, and the parrot slowly drifted off to a contented sleep.

----**----

The parrot returned quite literally three days later. He'd had a lurid adventure elsewhere in the city, but as he left that he found that it simply did not live up to what he had experienced at O'Laighin's. And so, there he was, back in the slightly dimmer lighting of the pub, at exactly the same time as he had been that night three days before. It was unexpectedly busy for a Tiersday night, Art realized: it was the middle of the week, after all, and with everyone needing to go home sooner rather than later he expected that there would not be many there. And yet, there was a new cast of characters seated at the bar, all of them in various states of inebriation.

And then, Art caught sight of the bull again. He was in the same immaculately cleaned shirt as the night before, but Art noticed he was slightly dressed down: the top two buttons of his shirt were open, and Art saw some of the tuft of Tsavik's chest hair peek out from the valley that this left behind. Art blushed just upon seeing this: it seemed that Tsavik's style was on point no matter what he wore, and as he thought of this he found himself swallowing a lump in his throat.

Nevertheless, he made his way to the bar, sitting at the opposite end this time. Tsavik was rather quick in noticing him, and the bull moved closer, his horns gleaming in the light.

"Oh, hello," Tsavik replied. "Art, the little musician."

Art blushed, blinking in surprise. "You... you remembered," he said, his hands instinctively retreating into his lap.

"Of course," said Tsavik. He leaned closer, giving the bird a small wink. "It is rare that anyone could forget someone so... colorful."

The parrot blushed at this remark, before shrugging. "Well, you'd be surprised," he commented. "You'd be surprised." He then smiled, looking to Tsavik. "Got another rum and coke?"

Tsavik nodded, lifting the tap dispenser and pointing it into an empty glass. "Creature of habit, eh?" the bull asked.

"Yep," Art replied. "Creature of habit on nights like this."

Tsavik nodded, finishing the drink off with a little rum and leaning forward as he placed the drink in front of the parrot. "I suppose I should expect you to make a new habit during your time here at Tyrua," he said.

The parrot blushed, looking to the ground. "Yeah," he admitted, nodding as the heat rushed to his face so intensely that he could only look to the side. "Yeah, I think this is the start of a new habit."

Tsavik chuckled gently, before leaning forward. "Anything new tonight?" he asked.

"Oh no, not at all," the parrot replied. "The only thing is we held our first masterclass with chamber music students this afternoon."

"Oh?" Tsavik leaned forward.

"Yeah," Art replied, smiling as he looked up. "They're..." he exhaled, shrugging. "They're a very weird creature. Weirder than I expected them to be." He shrugged, leaning back. "But exhilarating for that reason alone, you know?"

Tsavik nodded. "For certain," he said. He then leaned forward, tapping the counter gently as he looked to the parrot. "And it sounds like it was a good experience!"

"For sure," the parrot replied. "Here, let me tell you all about it!"

And so, the parrot regaled Tsavik with tales from that day's masterclass, ranging from when Rory got to let her inner geek out in front of someone performing a Prokofiev quartet to when Art got to explain the specifics of why dynamics were so important in a new string quintet piece by Murail. It was of course interrupted by Tsavik tending to the other bar patrons, but Art did not really mind this so much, and the conversation always picked up exactly from where it had left off before.

And soon enough, the patrons of the bar began to walk off. Eventually, it left just Art and Tsavik there, there two of them simply sharing a couple of drinks and laughing the whole night through. Art barely noticed the time go by, and before he knew it, there they were, ten minutes before close just chatting away, the two of them.

"And then, you know, Shost got to go in talking about how rarely that piece is performed," Art continued. He chuckled, pulling his torso back. "Only Shost would go on like that about a piece he knows exclusively from his random obscure music searches, after all!"

"We all have that interesting hobby," said Tsavik.

"Absolutely," the parrot replied. He then shrugged. "And hey, I'm not about to complain: that's more stuff for us to play, too. And you know us string trios, we're always looking for more!"

"Indeed." Tsavik nodded, looking to the clock briefly, before bowing his head to the parrot. "This has been a most interesting conversation, but closing is soon, I'm afraid."

Art looked at the clock, and even as he knew the rules of the bar he sighed, swallowing gently. "Yeah, it is," he said. He paused, glancing at his second finished rum and coke as he fingered the glass. "So, I had a question before I headed off for the night."

"And what is that?" asked Tsavik.

Art paused, glancing to the floor. "Well... about those body shots," he said. "You've had people do them off of your body before, right?"

Tsavik nodded. "On occasion," the bull said. "Why?"

"Just curious," said the parrot. He then leaned forward. "But there's one more thing I'm curious about."

"And that is...?" Tsavik asked.

Art gulped, blinking as he thought to his question. Thinking about it then, he realized that he had never quite figured out how to phrase it. It was something that came to him literally right then, and as he thought about it, he found he could not summon the right words.

Still, the spirit of the question prevailed, and so he looked up.

"So... have you ever like..." he shrugged. "...done a body shot off of someone here? Like... been given a drink to do so with?"

And here, Tsavik grinned at the parrot. The grin stirred something primal in Art, but he immediately shoved the thought out of his mind. He could not, however, prevent the blush from showing past his cheek feathers, and he realized upon paying attention to the way Tsavik's eyes moved that the bull indeed noticed.

"No," said Tsavik. "But I have given a few body shots in my day."

Art nodded. "Is there, like... some kind of code against that at the bar?" he asked.

"Not at all," Tsavik replied. And then, he moved down, beginning to clean what few glasses remained uncleaned on the bar. "I haven't had anyone ask yet. Sometimes, it takes the right one to ask..."

Tsavik turned his head to the parrot, giving him a brief wink. The gesture nearly knocked the wind out of Art, and as he reeled from the implications he found he could barely conceal the stiffening in his pants. The thought of such an imposing bull giving him a body shot on such a command... well, the parrot found it unequivocally hot, and the warmth flushed all over his body.

Still, the parrot hesitated: this was not the night for it. Even disregarding that it was a Tiersday night, he was not particularly in the mood for a body shot. He had not really been in the mood for anything other than conversation, and even this new insinuation that this bull he had been thinking of non-stop throughout the past few days was indeed interested was something the parrot had a difficult time wrapping his head around. This was something to sleep on, for certain.

And so, the parrot nodded. "Noted for future reference," he said. He then stepped off of the bar stool, adjusting his pants in a quick attempt to hide his boner from Tsavik. "Well, I'll go ahead and head back to where I'm staying, then. You can bet I'll be back for more."

"I am glad to hear that," Tsavik replied. He then smiled, putting glasses away slowly. "Good night."

Art blushed at the way that deep baritone voice intoned his name. "G'night, big guy." He smiled. "See you in a bit."

And as Art turned, he was thankful that Tsavik did not have the forward nature to comment about how obvious his boner was in his pants.

----**----

Art did indeed return to the bar several times throughout the ensuing weeks. He made it a point to try to make it out at least twice a week, but invariably Art wound up finding his way there more frequently than that.

And of course, the residency marched on, with the trio making excellent progress with students throughout. Art was rather surprised at the level that he and his two compatriots were tutoring, with a good majority of them being attentive and quite skilled to match. There were certainly groups that were more difficult than others, but that was why he had Rory and Shost by his side: Art was not known as the patient one of the group, and Shost in particular did an excellent job of keeping the tempers at bay.

But there were times where that sometimes failed to register: still, on those nights, Art at least had O'Laighin's.

And there was one night that he did end up needing O'Laighin's pretty badly...

----**----

The energy at the bar was rather high-spirited. As Tsavik flitted about between patrons, the patrons chatted animatedly amongst each other, drinks being shared. It was rather full for a Wednesday night, although Tsavik suspected that everything was due to the event going on at the bar that night.

After all, it was the beginning of the Tyruan summer: it was always a big event, for it was a summer harvest festival throughout the city. It was rather bittersweet for Tsavik, but he did not let that temper his wish for others' merriment, and he did his best to serve up wonderful drinks.

So then, when the colorful parrot from offworld had come in, he had sensed immediately that something was wrong. His movements were rather unusually jerky, and he sensed as the parrot ordered his drink that his limbs were shaking, likely from some kind of adrenalin rush. He was almost completely silent as well, only ordering his usual rum and coke as he sat there. Occasionally, Tsavik saw the light glint off of bitter tears that remained just dancing around the edges of his eyelids. Tsavik also noted that he occasionally clenched his fist, stopping just short of slamming it against the countertop, and each time he did Tsavik noticed the odd angle at which the parrot gritted his beak.

Something was clearly on the parrot's mind, and Tsavik could tell that there was something else rather wrong going on.

And so, when he had a free moment amidst handing out drinks, he parked himself in front of the parrot, who was still swirling his drink at the bar.

"Are you alright?" Tsavik asked, leaning closer as the parrot stared into his drink.

Art exhaled, the exhale clearly much more forceful than the parrot recognized. "Well, if you must know, it took me everything in my arsenal not to blow my top in a coaching session today, and even then I'm still not entirely sure I succeeded," the parrot said, his volume almost threatening to jump out viciously. He then raised his hand.

Tsavik nodded. He slowly pulled up a barstool, parking himself in front of the parrot. "What happened?" he asked.

"Well..." The parrot pointed at his own throat. "There's this student in one of the chamber groups who doesn't listen to a damn thing I say." He then lifted his hands. "And for some reason, he was so resistant today that I lost my temper. And then, well..." He sighed. "He made a really sarcastic comment about my voice."

Tsavik frowned. The parrot's voice was rather high-pitched for certain, but to the point that it would be mocked?

"That is strange," he said.

"Yeah, well, tell that to the guys back in my own schooling that did that all the time," Art replied. He let out an angry sigh. "And... well..." The parrot pulled himself back up, his shoulders noticeably sagging. "I may have had to leave the room after yelling at him for how disrespectful he was being."

Tsavik nodded. "I assume you would have done worse had you stayed."

"I... did come within an inch of smashing his violin against the far wall, yeah," Art admitted. He sighed, shaking his head gently.

Tsavik nodded. He could tell that it was not something that had happened earlier in the day: someone whose arm was shaking that intensely was clearly not alright in the grand scheme of things, and Tsavik's best guess was that he had not been able to adequately calm down, and while Tsavik was flattered he came to O'Laighin's, he could not help but feel the parrot could bring down the energy of the room.

And so, he looked to the other bartender, nodding to him before pulling up a chair next to Art. "I am sorry." He then clasped a hand on Art's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Don't be," Art said. He then looked to Tsavik, the parrot gently grasping Tsavik's hand and squeezing it, perhaps a second longer. He then sighed, and Tsavik could feel some of his tension evaporate. "I just... I just need a couple of minutes."

"And maybe more." Tsavik smiled at him, then, the smile telling the parrot everything he needed to know with how warm it was, and the subsequent hand pat that followed.

And here, Art looked up at the large bull, a smile finally playing at his beak. "Thanks, big guy." He then patted Tsavik's leg, and the pressure of his fingers was such the bull was convinced he was patting it a touch heavier than necessary. "That means a lot."

The two of them sat in relative silence as the bar grew rowdier behind them. Art smiled, and the tension slowly evaporated from his body as Tsavik looked at him. After a few deep breaths, the parrot's arms had relaxed a little bit, and he finally found himself looking up at the bull.

Tsavik smiled. "The usual?" he asked.

"Yes, please," said the parrot. He then glanced to the side. "And why's everyone so damn happy, anyway?"

Tsavik grinned as he twirled a glass in his hand, setting it down on the counter. "It's the Harvest Festival," he said. "It is a very important Tyruan day."

----**----

"And so, we take it very seriously when the harvest comes."

"It sounds lovely..."

"It is indeed."

Art noticed the way Tsavik's expression turned almost sad for a second. There was something forlorn about that gaze, and while the parrot could not quite put his finger on what that was he still found himself reaching for Tsavik's hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze, looking up at him and giving him a smile.

He said almost nothing, but only blushed as he felt Tsavik's hand close around his. They sat in silence, with the activity of the rest of the bar fading almost into the background. Art felt oddly comforted by this strange state of being: judging by the way Tsavik simply sat there and let his hand gently squeeze the parrot's, Art could tell the bull felt this comfort too.

Finally, Art swallowed. "Say, Tsavik," he said. He breathed in, exhaling as he looked to the ground. "So, remember when we talked about that body shot deal the other day?"

Of course he remembered: how could he not forget such a forward statement. "Would you like to cash in on that?"

And here, the parrot nodded. "Sure."

Tsavik's smile finally showed some teeth, and he patted Art's shoulder.

"Very well," he said. "Get on a table."

And with this, Tsavik walked behind the bar, grabbing a shotglass from the bar as he grabbed some tequila.

The fact that Tsavik had agreed to such an arrangement filled the parrot with a strange excitement. It felt like a stone had settled in his gut, but at the same time he felt himself get lifted three feet off the ground. Goodness, he's really doing this, Art thought. It was the furthest thing he could think of the usually stoic bull doing, but the thought sent his blood rushing through his veins even faster.

He leaned back, before looking to his shirt. He hurriedly pulled it off, the feathers of his torso glinting somewhat in the light as Tsavik approached. Art heard the other bar patrons start to grow a little bit rowdy as he approached, holding the bottle of tequila, a lime wedge, and a salt shaker in hand.

Tsavik then gestured to a table with his salt shaker, Art noticing that there were a couple of weasels already clearing it down. "Shall we?"

The parrot nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat as he stood up, balling up his shirt in his hands. "Y-yeah..." He blushed, gesturing to the table. "Let's do this."

With this, Tsavik directed Art there. The parrot inhaled, before sitting on top of the tabletop. The rush of nerves did not die down too much as he swiveled his legs around, and this was so even as he laid back, leaving his slender form prone to the bull's whims. Art had to hold back a chuckle as Tsavik poured the shot of tequila into the little depression in his belly, and then inhaled deeper as he tapped the salt shaker over his body.

By the time Tsavik offered him the lime wedge, it took all of Art's willpower to keep himself from outright snatching that lime wedge out of his hand. Still, the parrot delicately balanced it just above his throat.

Tsavik's eyebrows rose at this, but he did not object. Instead, he leaned over, and Art could tell he was aware of what the crowd was doing. Still, he said nothing, and soon enough Art felt the bull's breath ruffle up his feathers.

Art was also certain that his burgeoning boner was bumping up against something on Tsavik's torso, but he was so far along that the only thing he could do was nod and say that he was ready.

Tsavik's tongue immediately darted out, digging into his belly button to fish out the tequila that laid within. The parrot shuddered upon feeling Tsavik's tongue touch his belly button. The jolts of pleasure caused him to seize up so that the lime wedge nearly dropped off of where he'd put it: they were so intense it took him a minute to realize his hands had darted to the space behind Tsavik's head.

But the bull simply kept going, his tongue trailing up the feathers where the salt crystals had fallen. Art's shudders of pleasure were a little quieter at this point, and he lingered both on the pleasant friction of Tsavik's tongue against his feathers and the lingering moisture that the bull left behind as he lapped the salt crystals out of his feathers.

And then Tsavik's tongue touched the base of his neck, just below where he'd put the lime wedge. Art found himself biting back a moan as the bull's tongue reached that area, and it was a feeling that grew more intense when Tsavik's teeth grazed against his throat on the way to the lime wedge. He felt his boner grow even harder at that point, but if Tsavik noticed he did not indicate he cared.

Soon afterward, Tsavik pulled off, and Art noticed the lime wedge in the bull's mouth. He gently bit down, the lime juices splattering into his mouth. It was a beautiful sight to be sure, but Art only looked at the glint in Tsavik's eye, and then to the way the bull's lips slightly parted to show some more of his teeth. They held this gaze for two seconds, then more, then far more, and if Art was completely honest he felt he could hold that gaze forever. There was something in there that told Art that whatever interest he had was reciprocated, and he only felt a strange warmth glow throughout his body, one that only grew more intense with each passing second.

And then the crowd cheered. Even this, however, was not enough to break Art out of the reverie he was in. The bull and the parrot kept their gaze locked even as Tsavik sat up, his full figure on full display. The parrot's breath hitched, and as it did he found it hard to look away even as Tsavik's hand fell on his bare shoulder. He only smiled enigmatically, Art unable to do much more than breathe.

Tsavik leaned forward, his hand gently rubbing the parrot's torso with contact that seemed to hover.

"Stay until closing," the bull whispered. "Follow me after."

To this, the parrot could only nod, the warm smile already playing at his beak as he thought of where Tsavik might take him.

----**----

As soon as Art stepped onto the balcony, he was taken aback by two things: the first, was just how expansive the whole apartment was. The living room was large, rather sparsely decorated with a few very modern items of furniture, and the space felt very open with how the windows were. Indeed, even the balcony this high up seemed expansive, with the couch that laid there in the open air.

But the second thing was more important: the view of East Tyrua that the building afforded him. Art could see the conservatory all the way there, lit up by the lights of the busy district. It created a rather strange dichotomy between the city and the apartment's balcony, which was shrouded in darkness from the surrounding night. It was still beautiful, and Art found himself moving to the edge immediately, looking over everything.

Art nodded. "How'd you come across a place like this?" he asked.

"Chance." Art felt Tsavik's warm body press up against his back, the contact causing his heart to jump a beat. "It took three years to get used to this."

"I'll bet." Art then turned around, placing his hands on Tsavik's chest gently. "I... guess you're interested too?"

In response, Art felt Tsavik's hands come to the small of his back, the large fingers kneading into the parrot's bare feathers. After all, Art had not taken his shirt off the entire time, and even as the cool night air blew into his feathers he could only concentrate on that warmth as he noticed Tsavik's head leaning closer. Art angled his head up, looking into his eyes as the muzzle leaned ever closer.

Art nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat. "I... You know, when I first walked in there, I knew I had to talk to you immediately," he said, chuckling nervously. "I think... that was part of why. I don't see anyone else like you around here, so friendly and quiet and gentle and..." He glanced away briefly, turning his attention back up with a chuckle. "But you're wonderful, and just so--"

But Tsavik interrupted him with a gentle kiss to the beak. Art immediately closed his eyes, their tongues meeting slowly but passionately as Art felt Tsavik's fingers gently caress his back. Art's hands immediately worked their way to wrap around the back of Tsavik's shoulders, the well of pleasure rising up within him as he felt himself pressed into the bull.

When they pulled back, Art gazed into those beautiful eyes he had seen before, as Tsavik's hands worked through the feathers on his back.

Tsavik nodded. "You talk too much," he said with a wink. He then pulled back, pulling Art with him to the couch and sitting on it. "Here."

As Tsavik sat down, he pulled the parrot into his lap, leaning forward to resume their kiss. Art closed his eyes, his hands unconsciously unbuttoning the bull's vest and shirt with slow motions. The bull did not object at all, from the moment Art had begun this motion to when he had slowly pulled the clothing off and allowed his hands to run unimpeded through the bull's furry torso.

The muscles bounced back slightly against his touch: Art could feel the power they held just under his wingtips, but he was most impressed by how Tsavik allowed those wingtips to really feel them up. He let out a deep exhale into the kiss then, pulling back when Tsavik broke the kiss and worked his hands gently onto the small of his back.

Tsavik smiled, before leaning closer and nibbling on Art's neck. The parrot moaned, both hands coming to hold the bull close to him as he worked his way down the parrot's torso. The bull's hands worked over the parrot's butt with gentle strokes, and as Tsavik worked his way down the parrot let out a soft moan, especially at the way the bull worked his pants off.

Before Art knew it, Tsavik was down between his legs, giving the parrot's member attention with that soft tongue. The parrot's moans only increased in volume at that point, and as he felt Tsavik gently lay him against the couch, he closed his eyes, soaking in the feeling of that handsome bull having his way with him. He even bucked hard against the bull when he felt the bull's mouth circle around that length, and the action led him to gripping one of Tsavik's horns, crying out as they moved in unison together in their shared passion.

All too soon, Tsavik's tongue pulled away: the parrot did not need to wait long before he felt it against his taint, however. He moaned at this, spreading his legs and realizing that he had lost his pants somewhere along the way. The bull's tongue felt wet and strong against that entrance, and the parrot's moans only grew more gentle as Tsavik's tongue worked its magic there. Slowly, he felt the bull's furred hand stroke him gently, the motions so slow and languid it left the parrot to squirm right there.

In that moment, Art had the presence of mind to lift his head up, and there he saw Tsavik giving him that warm look he always gave. Art could not help himself: he simply let the bull look at him that way, even as he found himself pulling one leg back and allowing that tongue to press in deeply.

Tsavik chose that time to pull off, and then he worked his way out of his pants. Tsavik's member was easily one of the biggest that he had ever seen: it was thick, and Art was certain it could go up at least to two-thirds of his forearm. Tsavik then gave him a hesitant look: his muscles seemed a little more tense than usual, and his eyes darted down to his length before looking back up at the parrot.

Art only nodded at this: he'd wanted Tsavik for so long that now the thought of walking away was impossible. It was hardly Art's first time in this situation, after all: he knew it was all about the care of handling, and with someone as sweet and gentle as Tsavik had been Art knew that he would be fine.

And so, he nodded, giving him a smile as he lifted his legs up. "I hope you've got lube, because that's entirely necessary here."

It did not take long for Tsavik to grab it at that point, and it took even less time for that thick, long member to sink inside of him. Perhaps it did not sink all the way, but Art knew that with a member as big as Tsavik's that took time. The parrot moaned at how that knob pressed into him: it did sting quite a bit at first, but with each gentle thrust from the large bull he grew more and more used to it.

After that, it was nothing but the pleasant friction of that long member inside of him, the slow thrusts drawing long, pleasured moans out of the parrot as he held on to Tsavik's body. Everything about it was slow, gentle, and meant to last: the kisses lingered long, each thrust went in slowly and went out just as carefully...

It was the purest bliss Art had ever felt, and it was certainly one of the best times the parrot had ever had in bed. It was so good he hoped to himself it would never end.

And never end, Tsavik certainly did his best to do. The lovemaking was slow and wonderful, and Art found himself carried all around the apartment and the balcony in all positions: they began with his back on the couch, then Art found himself gently bent over the balcony railing, then Tsavik took him inside and thrust into him against the wall, on the couch, on the kitchen counter, then soon enough he found himself on the bed... Each position brought something new, but Tsavik never even came close to release even during the time that his hips managed to come flush with the parrot's bottom atop the living room couch.

It was not until they were finally in the bed that the height of their passion finally kicked in: and as Art laid on his back, he found the sensation of being filled by the bull's seed was absolutely wonderful. He cared not that his own feathers were soaked in his own seed: he wanted to hang on to that moment forever, with the way that Tsavik's mouth hung open, the way he held Art close, the way those eyes gazed into his as they reached mutual orgasm...

It all ended with Art, coming down from his orgasm and realizing Tsavik had carried the parrot into his bed. The parrot could only breathe in and out as Tsavik remained tense above him, his muscles taught as he looked down at the panting parrot. Art took a second to catch his own breath, feeling how stained in sweat his whole being had become. Eventually, he brought a hand up to Tsavik's face, gently stroking it as he looked deep into those eyes.

Finally, he brought his beak back up, kissing Tsavik gently. "Thank you," he whispered. "That was..."

And here, Tsavik exhaled, the bull pulling back slightly. "You are welcome to spend the night here."

The thought of leaving did not even occur to the parrot: he was simply too tired, and out of the bedroom window he could see the first rays of the sun. He was only thankful that he had nothing to do at the conservatory that morning: that meant he could stay as long as he wished.

Thus, Art smiled, before pulling himself close to Tsavik. "Gladly, big guy."

He could only continue to hold himself close: the warmth of that bovine body was the last thing he felt as he slipped into a fitful, wonderful sleep.

----**----

"No, I'm fine Rory. Don't worry about me. I just partied a little hard last night and, well... I may have wound up sleeping with the owner."

"Oh my God, of course you did."

"Hey, he's a sweetheart, he's been welcoming at this bar I go to, and his bed was really comfy. Oh, and he was... impressively sized, let's say that."

"I guess we'll hear all about this later?"

"Yep."

"Well, alright. Just wanted to make sure where you were. Remember when the call is."

"Alright. I'll get there in time, you mark my words."

"You better. I'll see you then."

"Seeya, Rory."

And with this, the call finally ended. Art nodded, closing his handcom quickly as he leaned back at the kitchen counter. He let out a sigh, almost embarrassed at how the kitchen clock read that it was afternoon. It was not normal for the parrot to sleep so late, but then again he'd never been up so long making love with another man either.

It was right as he thought of this that Tsavik decided to drop the plate of cayya squash hash in front of him. "Important call?" the bull asked, clothed as he was in nothing but a kitchen apron.

Art nodded, pulling the bathrobe out slightly to expose some of his feathered chest. "My cellist," he said, grabbing the fork and stabbing the bits of cayya squash and other vegetables with it. "She can have a bit of an anxiety spell if we're all somewhere and we're not able to report." He shrugged. "Not that I can blame her. You would have seen me darting out of here if I had managed to wake up any later than this."

"Of course." Tsavik slowly walked over, before sitting down next to the parrot. He then brought a hand up, adjusting some of Art's feathers. "How did you sleep?"

"Wonderfully." Art sighed happily, before leaning against Tsavik's chest. "I hope you'll pardon my asking, but how the fuck are you not married yet?"

Tsavik chuckled. "Disinterest," he replied. "Among other factors."

Art nodded, taking the time to bring the first forkful of hash into his mouth: he knew that asking Tsavik about anything pre-bar was futile, considering how deftly he changed the subject as soon as anyone brought it up. As the salty-sweet taste of the cayya squash registered on his tongue, though, he thought of how sad it was that this was the case.

Still, he smiled, patting Tsavik on the leg. "I suppose that's fair," Art said. "I'm not settling down yet, so hey, we move at our own pace..."

He then ate a couple more forkfuls, a contented silence settling between the two. Tsavik gently ran a thumb through the head fathers on the top of Art's head, the parrot responding by leaning his head somewhat closer and cooing gently. The parrot's eyes closed as soon as this happened, and he found his breathing slowing down somewhat.

"How long do you stay here?"

And there it was. Art sighed, pulling back as he regarded the bull. "About..." He glanced at the state-of-the-art clock on the side of the oven, before turning his attention back to Tsavik. "Another three Ruan weeks."

"Not very long indeed," Tsavik observed, before he brought a fork into the cayya squash hash and taking a bite himself.

"Depends how you look at it," Art replied. He then smiled. "And that's not to say we'll never be coming back."

Tsavik cocked his head as he chewed on his food. Art nodded, before he sat forward again. "Hey, we might be back at Tyrua for other things," he said. "The concert hall was so pleased with the turnout of one of our concerts they may consider inviting us back after our residency here concludes. And when that happens, you better believe I'll be back here."

And then, he gestured to the outside. "And you know what? This is also a really lovely city. I wouldn't be opposed to coming back for a pleasure trip sometime."

Tsavik nodded, and Art turned to see a smile play on his lips. "If you ever need a place to stay, you can come here," he said.

Art nodded. "Thanks, Tsavik," he said. He then leaned his head against the bull's massive arm. "You're a good guy."

He turned, giving it a quick nuzzle with his beak. Tsavik responded by kissing the parrot lightly on the head, the two of them settling into a comfortable silence shortly afterward as they continued eating what constituted breakfast.

----**----

Tsavik brought Art in time for the concert. It was not typical of him to do, but the bull decided to stay around for that: his workers could handle opening the bar, and anyway the night after the harvest festival was quiet at O'Laighin's: he could manage it.

And so, Tsavik sat there quietly, watching along as Art sawed away at a difficult Schnittke trio with his trio mates. He was not sure what he expected, but the winged dragon and the tyrannosaur that played along side him were the last thing Tsavik expected to see out of trio, but on-stage they had very clear chemistry with each other. There was constant contact with each other, they played well off of everyone, and in the most important places of the music no one player outshone the others. That was to say nothing of how varied the repertoire got, of course, but their choice of rep was eclectic and very interesting.

Tsavik was overall glad he had gone, particularly when Art introduced him to the rest of the trio. It was a very pleasant meeting, and he got to see both Rory's high-strung nature and Shost's reserved but salient commentary at the post-concert reception.

After this, Art found himself wandering to O'Laighin's every night of the week. Rarely did he go for the alcohol, but he was always sure to chat it up with Tsavik. Occasionally Art found himself back in that apartment, and when the mood was right Tsavik showed that not only was he an intimate lover, he could also be a rather rough lover if he was in the right mood. Whether or not they did wind up at Tsavik's place, though, the parrot just came for the company: whatever happened came on its own naturally, and Art found he had no reason to complain no matter how the night ended.

Combined with the work for the conservatory, Art found the rest of the residence blazing right by, and before he knew it the last night of their stay in Tyrua was upon them. Of course, Tsavik was certain he would spend this with the trio, because after all this only made sense with how long their residency had been.

----**----

In fact, Art had indeed found time to sneak over to O'Laighin's. The parrot was still in a suit, the dark blue playing well against the red feathers of his cheeks. He was all smiles as he sat down, and even more so when he had some alcohol in his system.

"So you're leaving tomorrow, huh?"

Art turned to the green dragon that sat next to him. Art had met Tai two nights after he and Tsavik had made love in his apartment: the younger dragon was a student at a different school in Tyrua, and Art had found him much more rambunctious than Tsavik. Still, he got along with him well, and indeed he had even taken part in one of his and Tsavik's rolls in the hay upstairs. His blue eyes shined in the light, and Art could only reply with a nod.

"Yeah," he said. "We're actually due rather late at the spaceport, but Rory wanted to make sure everything was clear with her cello before we left tomorrow, so she'll be there a little early."

"I see." Tai shrugged, leaning forward. "I don't' know how Ruan laws on interstellar travel affect travelling musicians, so..."

"Oh, it's not that bad," Art said. "Compared to some planets, they're downright lenient. But Rua does have a ban on Carthanian ivory going, and for bows made on Carthan that have that ivory it can create a customs nightmare that needs to be sorted out in all manner of ways." He shrugged, taking a sip of his rum and coke. "Trust me, they almost confiscated her bow at the spaceport because of it."

Tai's jaw dropped at this. "You serious?" he asked.

"As serious as Tsavik here," Art replied, indicating the bull as he leaned forward to wash out a glass. "She had to borrow a bow from one of the professors at our first three coaching sessions and our first masterclass, that's how long the bow was in customs."

"Daaaaaamn!" Tai shook his head. "I can't even imagine how that must have been."

Art shrugged, leaning back as he did. "Rory's damn good at what she does," he commented. "Trust me, you should've seen the time we played a convention on Moltoria: she couldn't even bring her cello in due to the effects that varnishes have on certain microbes in their atmosphere, so she had to get used to a whole new instrument!"

"You people are crazy!" Tai leaned forward, shaking his head and looking to the bull. "Right, that's crazy?"

"Only if you have no experience," Tsavik replied. The bull then smiled, setting out three shotglasses. He then poured a little bourbon into each, before looking to the parrot.

"Well, it looks like this is goodbye," Tsavik said.

Art smiled, picking up his shotglass. "For now," he said. "Mark my words, Tsavik, I'm going to find my way back to O'Laighin's sooner or later. The company's too good, the drinks too nice to let this fall by the wayside."

"You got that right!" Tai grabbed his own shotglass, lifting it in the air and pointing it at Tsavik. "To O'Laighin's?"

"No." The parrot smiled, before angling his shotglass towards Tsavik. "To something more than that: new friends in a new place."

To this, Tsavik only smiled. It was then the bull picked up the shotglass, before lifting it up and clinking it with Art and Tai.

"To friendship."

And with this, Art leaned back, letting the drink slip down his gullet. Bourbon was hardly his liquor of choice when it came to any kind of shot, but at that moment he found it hard to care. The liquor hit a second later, and the warmth that accompanied the alcohol-induced haze only amplified how wonderful he felt to be in the company of people he had come to know decently well.

He perhaps did not know everything there was to know about them, but the feeling they brought was wonderful.

He thus turned to Tsavik, giving him a smile and reaching for his hand as the bull put his glass down. As the furred fingers brushed over his feathered hand, Art smiled, his eyes gleaming in content.