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“Empty” by Faora Meridian [18+]

[18+] The past and future collide as a fox finds himself guided to something that he never dared dream of but always knew he needed.

Today’s story is “Empty” by Faora Meridian, who had this story first published in FANG #8 through Furplanet, and you can find more of his stories on SoFurry and FurAffinity, as well as in several more furry anthologies.

Read for you by Khaki, your faithful fireside companion.

Transcript
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Today I'm reading an adult story for mature listeners.

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If that's not your cup of tea,

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or if there are youngsters listening,

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you can skip this one and

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I'll have a new story for you next time.

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You’re listening to The Voice of Dog. I’m Khaki, your faithful fireside companion,

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and Today’s story is

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“Empty” by Faora Meridian,

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who had this story first published in FANG #8 through

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Furplanet,

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and you can find more of his stories on SoFurry and FurAffinity,

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as well as in several more furry anthologies.

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“Empty”

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by Faora Meridian Copy and paste your story here:

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I never saw him enter.

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I felt him, of course, as he arrived in the middle of the night.

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The hot breath on the back of my neck.

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A soft lick to the tip of one ear.

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Gentle strokes through my fur.

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Each was but a memory now

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suddenly given new life.

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I felt them all, just as surely as I had

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years ago. Decades ago.

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Way back when… way back before.

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I didn’t question his presence.

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It was all just a dream.

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I couldn’t move, and why would I want to?

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I knew who was there.

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Maybe I even knew why.

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Maybe I was sure.

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Maybe I wanted to be sure.

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My body – my heart, my soul –

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had been empty for so long.

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Anything at all to fill that void was welcome,

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for however short a time.

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His body pressed up against mine.

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He moulded himself to me,

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just like he used to.

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I couldn’t open my eyes,

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but I didn’t need them.

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I could feel his warmth at my back.

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I remembered the feel of his arms around me;

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black-furred fingers through what had once been

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russet-red pelt so long ago.

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Everything tingled under his touch.

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Everything from the tip of my tail to that

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softly licked ear

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hummed just with his presence.

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I didn’t have to speak.

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I didn’t have to ask.

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I didn’t even have to understand.

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Motions, long lost even from memory

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rushed suddenly back,

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beckoned by his touch.

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Old bones that hadn’t shifted so in years

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worked muscles that ached

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day in and day out.

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But his touch carried a warmth that

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sank beneath the fur, beneath the flesh,

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through the tired sinew and muscle and bone

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like a reminder of times long gone past.

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The heat carried deeper and I

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trembled. Fingers clenched at a pillow as

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claws unsheathed

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with a want unfelt for an age and a half.

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The dream lifted my paralysis, but his presence remained a constant warmth behind me.

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I could move, and so I did.

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Oh, I moved. I squirmed. I bore back.

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I felt more of my emptiness filled like nothing I’d experienced in so, so long.

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Full wakefulness eluded me still,

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even as my energy returned.

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An arm lifted to wrap around my middle, and I clutched it fiercely.

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Even if it was just a dream,

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I wasn’t about to let go.

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He was here. He was home.

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Everything was right in a way it hadn’t been in too long.

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He turned me on my back,

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and I could see him again.

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Angular lupine face.

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Smugly perked eyebrow.

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Ratty, torn left ear.

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Rugged, toothy smile.

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I reached up with a smile of my own to cup his cheek.

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Black paw-fur shone as the moonlight crawled across it,

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a lost lustre restored.

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He placed his paw over mine,

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his other on my chest.

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I wondered if he felt my old heart race the same way it had when we had first met.

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I wondered if he felt it skip a beat – or was it two? –

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when I felt him, as sure as ever,

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press beneath my tail.

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I knew he’d loved it.

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That twitch;

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that tremble of broken anticipation as he slipped inside me.

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He’d loved to see it written across my face.

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Could he see it there,

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sheathed in the full moon’s silver glow?

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How like a wolf to come hunt me under its light.

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How like him to smile down at me while I shook for and against and around him.

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I didn’t question his malehood as it spread me open for the first time in

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too long. I didn’t think about the lack of pain or discomfort.

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It was all just a dream.

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It was all memories, tempered by time and

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polished to a perfect shine that reality couldn’t compare to.

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It didn’t matter

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why I took him into myself so easily.

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All that mattered

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was that he was there,

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and that I had. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t wake up.

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There was nothing in the world I could want less.

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His eyes shimmered in the moonlight as he watched me.

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I smiled back, and it was the largest smile I could remember smiling in years. I smiled

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all the smiles I’d missed for him,

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and he winked at me

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like the coy devil he always was.

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And he moved. His paws moved all over my body.

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He ran through my fur,

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and wherever his fingers travelled they left that

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humming energy in their wake.

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The grey faded and the red returned, rusty

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and deep like it had been when we’d met.

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He traced across cuts and scars and bruises

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and I felt them mend before him.

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I felt myself renewed under his touch.

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Inside, my heart skipped another beat as it raced for him.

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It pumped with renewed vigour as one of his arms slid between me

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and the ratty old mattress beneath.

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He lifted me up and off it as he leaned back,

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and then I was in his arms.

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In his arms and in his lap with his body shadowed by mine.

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And I could still see him.

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I could still see that cheeky smile as he leaned in close,

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and it only vanished when his forehead touched to mine.

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His muzzle rubbed across my own –

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did he lick alongside it?

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He always did like to –

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as he lifted me with him,

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my body wrapped around his.

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I bore down against him

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and forced him deep.

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The best dream.

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The earliest memories.

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But the moment held none of the pain of strained muscles or the awkwardness of young lovers.

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The dream held the bodies of youth with the experience and driven desire of maturity.

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The dream set into motion the times we had wanted,

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as I rode up and down along his shaft.

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All the hot summer nights and cool winter mornings.

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All the blustery autumns and bright springs.

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They melded together with every rise and fall of my body.

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Time rolled with his hips

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as he helped slide up into me.

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I thought I felt the world turn around us.

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I didn’t question the ease with which I exerted myself.

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I didn’t care where I found the energy to be taken so vigorously by this apparition

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of a long lost love.

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It didn’t matter how or why.

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All that mattered

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were his eyes, locked on my own.

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My eyes, locked on his.

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An unbroken stare and

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a desperately happy smile.

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He was there. He was there.

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I swelled with him as I bore down.

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I panted with him as the end approached.

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Tightness gripped my chest as he squeezed me tight,

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and tightness gripped his malehood as I clenched upon him.

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He knew what was coming.

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We both felt it. One of his paws stroked my cheek,

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a mirror to how I cupped his.

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Breath caught in my throat.

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I braced at the precipice.

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We kissed as we peaked.

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A silent affair; a tremble of bodies locked together in the throes of passion.

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Love, muted by love.

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Pleasure of the flesh tingled through the satisfaction of the soul.

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Dream or not, he was there.

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He was the missing piece that fit.

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He was the piece

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that had never been replaced.

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Breath was stolen,

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just as my heart

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and soul had been stolen.

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The surge of the flesh ebbed away,

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but the emptiness remained fulfilled.

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It remained filled,

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and I squirmed atop him

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just as I had the first time.

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He smiled at me just as he had the first time.

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His fingers traced absently down my cheek and along my jaw.

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I felt my body sing with its new energy

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as our muzzles met once more.

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The first time for a second time.

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When we broke, I felt as though I could finally breathe again.

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I felt as though I could move and sing and run and leap.

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I felt free in a way I’d not felt since I was a child,

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and as I saw his smile warm

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I knew he understood.

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His eyes seemed to bore through me,

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past the shadow I cast and to the bed below.

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He began to pull back from me.

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I didn’t question how I felt him withdraw so smoothly,

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just as I hadn’t questioned

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how he’d slid in so effortlessly.

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I simply sat up, ears perked

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like a little puppy as I watched him almost seem to drift

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back into the moonlight.

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Further he went as he slipped seamlessly from the bed, only to pause and

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linger there at the very edge.

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He turned his gaze to the moon.

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I followed it and then,

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right there in the corner of my eye,

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I saw. I understood the truth behind me.

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Should I have been afraid?

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Should I have been

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uncertain? Shocked?

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I was none of those.

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Instead, I smiled.

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I smiled for him all the smiles we’d missed.

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I smiled for him all the smiles we’d yet have.

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He smiled back as he caught my eye.

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He nodded to me; offered me his paw.

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I didn’t hesitate for a moment.

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I grasped it tightly, with the same grip I’d held it the last time I’d felt him near. I held it with

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the grip of one who

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wouldn’t – who couldn’t – let go.

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I knew then that I would never,

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ever have to let go again, and all was right with the world at last.

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There were no more questions.

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The moonlight continued to drift across the empty old fox,

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still in his bed.

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No one was there to see us leave.

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This was “Empty” by Faora Meridian,

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read for you by Khaki,

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your faithful fireside companion.

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You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,

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or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

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Thank you for listening

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to The Voice of Dog.

About the Podcast

Show artwork for The Voice of Dog
The Voice of Dog
Furry stories to warm the ol' cockles, read by Rob MacWolf and guests. If you have a story that would suit the show, you can get in touch with @VoiceOfDog@meow.social on Mastodon, @voiceofdog.bsky.social on Blue Sky, or @Theodwulf on Telegram.

About your host

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Khaki