FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Characters:

Lord Regyn Bast (Male, short-hair cat, 58)

Lord Jonfel “Jon” Shepherd (Male, Border collie, 26)

Notes:

No real justification lol. I’ve always really liked both fantasy and sci fi settings, so have been really wanting to write more of them for nsfw stuff. And, well, I was reading a lot of Game of Thrones when I ended up writing this one and its handful of follow-ups. Still, this is a VERY short one.

So, yeah! Enjoy a taste of my fantasy ‘setting’.

Story Text:

The festivities had proven dreadfully dull.

Lord Regyn Bast had expected that, more or less. It had been a time since his last ‘entertainment’ had come to him through one of these drab parties. As a result, the near-60-year-old noble simply had to put up with younger men and women simpering after him and his ‘counsel’, insisting that if he’d just loan them a bit of gold then whatever venture or quest or project they had in mind would be perfected.

Sigh.

He'd just been drifting from standing table to standing table; it was custom to have more conventional dining tables around the edges of the large hall, while the middle was more standing space, as well as open areas where dance and song could be held. A few younger ladies and lords were even indulging in that, though most had barely seen more than 15 years. At far passed his dancing years, the middle aged cat had simply been passing by, dark furred, from one little group to another, listening silently to conversations that did little to entertain him. Of course, once he was noticed, his narrow gold eyes tended to disquiet most, and his silent tendencies made the conversation come to a dead halt.

So, he’d drift to another table, near-empty glass of whine in paw, waiting to see if anything struck out to him-

“Can’t say the prospect interests me,” a young man was saying. Regyn had been slipping between two tables, striding sideways with his back to the man whose luxuriously smooth voice caught his attention. He paused. “A wife hardly seems a worthy prospect, if you ask me.”

“Nonsense, my lord!” one of the others at the table chided, laughing. “Surely you see the merit in an heir, at least, or… the touch of a woman?”

The man who’d been speaking let out a bark of laughter that made Regyn’s long, sleek tail twitch and coil slightly. He replied, “No, no my friend, I’m not sure it does! I’m the youngest of five sons; an heir doesn’t seem much worth to me. As for women…

“Hm. We’ll say I get my fill.”

Those at the table missed his meaning, but Regyn… oh, he’d used near that same line a few times in his earlier years. As they laughed and chided him as a maiden-chasing hound, Regyn peeked over his shoulder, eyes slightly wider with interest as he took a glance at the man.

A younger male, of course, and a dog by the looks of him. Some furry black and white thing; a… collie? He’d never been good with dogkind, but that sounded right. Regardless, he did recognize the heraldry on the man’s tunic and shoulder cloak: three golden sheep on a field of stitched green, like they were grazing a field of grass. Shepherd, if he was remembering his kittenhood lessons of the many Houses in the lands.

He licked his lips, subtly, as he glanced at the young dog. Maybe 20-something years, young and grinning knowingly as he took a sip of fruity pink wine at his companions’ japes.

Oh… that was one he had to have.

Regyn turned deftly, slipping into the space between the young Shepherd and his nearby companion. The older male offered a slight nod of greeting, not missing that some of the laughter cut off as he joined the group.

“Greetings,” he nodded slightly, holding up his glass. “Enjoying my dear friend’s hospitalities, my lords and ladies?”

They all tittered some half-hearted agreements, a few of the bolder men and women in the little group trying to put more bravado in their replies. Surely, they were not scared of some old cat whose black fur was graying around the muzzle.

But Regyn only had eyes for the Shepherd dog, his wide blue eyes catching the feline’s green. Oh? Perhaps this one had heard some rumors of his… dalliances. Still, the collie answered coolly in that velvety voice, “Quite well, my Lord Bast. And… if I may say, your reputation proceeds you! Why, in some circles, I dare say you’re practically more well-known then the King.”

Oh, yes, in some circles… Regyn’s sly smile grew a bit sharper. And, boldly but out of view of any watching them converse, he slipped his free hand over and gave the younger male’s firm ass a nice, sharp grope. He saw the dog twitch, his ears perking a bit, but he gave no other outwards reaction… aside from his cheeks growing a bit more visibly warm.

“Is that so?” he purred luxuriously, leaning on one elbow as he cocked his head up at the young man; younger, but taller, a good head above the slender feline. He curled his fingers, pressing under the young dog’s tail, grinding his soft pawpads through the cloth and against the canine’s hidden hole; the reaction was immediate, a soft and reflexive huff leaving the collie, his hips rocking back and back arching slightly, tail wagging and flagging upwards to give better access.

The rest of the party had gone quiet, confused. “I- Indeed, My Lord,” the collie chuckled, trying to cover what was nearly a soft whimper. He brought his glass to his lips, slightly pressing his rump back in Regyn’s hand as he gulped it down in one go. “Ah, perhaps this is… brash,” the canine continued, still flush in the cheeks in a way that was believably from his wine intake that evening, “but… I had something of a venture in mind, that I believe your House’s gold stores would do wonders for advancing… Perhaps, if you’re available-“

“I was just about to return to my keep,” Regyn answered simply, curling his fingers harder against that covered-up dog hole. Gods, the boy shivered at that, barely hiding a containing lip-bite. “You’d be most welcome to join me, Lord…?”

“Ah,” the dog stuttered, caught off guard, too enraptured by the older man’s hand digging for his asshole to remember his own name. “Jonfel, my Lord. Jonfel Shepherd…”

“Jonfel,” the feline near-purred, his cock thrumming in his pants. Lords, the boy was in public and practically moaning for him… he wondered what he could get out of the dog in more private settings. With a quick tip, he drained the last of his own glass, keeping his paw affixed to the dog’s plump, warm ass as he did, setting the empty cup on the table before him. “Farwell, my lords and ladies. Lord Jonfel, please…

“Come with me.”