Arctic
A wolf has a brush with an ex-musician.
Arctic - December 04, 2013 M/M/T (implied), Language Wolf/Fox/Feline
Written by Afril, Edited by Chaos Blackwing (cl) The Gay Furry Association
Another half-dream that kept me awake until I wrote it down
The bell on the door chimed, and a brown-robed figure stepped out of the cool fall air.
"May the Graces bless you."
The music store clerk hid her smirk very well. Another wandering priest. Well - If he was cute, she might find a copper to put in his palm. Several of them were very cute and she often wondered what they hid under those robes.
"Is there a demo model I might use?"
Maddee nodded and pointed to a git-box on a stand. The male bowed, and walked over to the instrument. Hmmpf... He was probably going to plunk out some chant or other. The first thing he did was tune it. Then he strummed it gently.
"Sorry, it has been a while since I played."
She almost laughed. She hadn't reached for her ear-plugs once. The song sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. It definitely was worth toe-tapping to. She was almost sorry when the robed one stopped playing - He was pretty good.
"I thank you for... Oh My."
The priest had stopped in front a shiny 9-string guitar. Roadkill decided that by adding 3 more bass strings to a normal guitar, they would make something different. It was so different, that only a handful were made each year. The owner was a serious Atonement fan or it wouldn't even be on the wall. She almost laughed as the poor male tried to hide how badly he wanted to touch the thing - What the hells... If he broke it, the owner could claim it on his taxes, and maybe get something that would sell.
"Go ahead. Amp's over there." She held her ear-plugs in one hand - Just in case. A few minutes later she forgot she had them, and they rolled onto the desk. No freakin way! Somehow the lay-brother's cowl had gotten flipped back and a white-furred fox-head emerged. The canine sitting at the desk managed to carefully swivel her laptop around and hit 'record' - Whoever he was, this guy was Good!
"Why did you bring light into my darkness... A too-brief candle's flame, torn from me in howling despair."
In The Darkness... She had heard that song a hundred times coming from her boss's office. But... Atonement had broken up years ago. And their lead singer was an arctic fox... This wasn't happening... Couldn't be happening.
After 20 more minutes and a couple more songs later, she was praying the power stayed on. As the last quavering note fell out of the amplifier and onto the floor like a trampled heart, the receptionist found she could breathe again. The male unplugged the Roadkill, and turned the amp off. Then he walked it back to it's place on the wall, lovingly placing it back in it's spot. A gentle caress and the male flipped his cowl back up.
"I thank you. It has been a long time since my old friend and I have been together."
Maddee stood up, and pressed a silver coin into the white palm.
"Please..." she insisted, making sure the hand and coin disappeared back into the robe.
The fox bowed. "May the Graces bless you."
Oh, they already had... As soon as the male was out of sight, she ran back to her desk, crossing her fingers that the camera had caught everything. The quality wasn't great, but Gods, the burg had only been wired a month ago. One of the reasons she had been hired was because she knew all about cranky connections and how to coax the best out of them. She edited the video a little, cropped it so the male was centered. Then she burned a disc, labeled it, and stuck it in her purse - That one was going home with her. A second one, she put on her boss's desk. If this didn't get her a raise, nothing would.
Crap! There was no way she could upload the entire video - It would take all day And go over the MyVids limit... After some thought she decided on 'Nobody Knows'. It was short enough, yet unique enough. It still took over an hour to spool off her laptop, and into the ether... Where it took all of 10 minutes to crash the server as requests to download the video exceeded the maximum capacity by a hundredfold. The little town of Halber became swamped by furs who came to see the Roadkill, now in a display case on it's own. To walk where a famous singer may have walked. To seek their own moment of fame... The throng included many reporters who smelled 'scoop', and one bored lupine who had his own brush with fame.
* * * *
The wolf somehow managed to open his hotel room door, only dropping the key twice.
'Gods, I need a drink!' he thought, ruefully shaking his head. No, he didn't dare. Not until he wrote this down. Hells, he wasn't sure he wanted to write Anything! Things like this didn't happen to furs like him. They happened to big-name journalists... He sighed and sat on the bed, opening his laptop, staring at the screen, then at his hand... And back at the screen. Slowly, he began typing...
* * * *
I sat in a local coffee-shop, perusing the paper. The guard was having a hard time keeping order with all the influx of journalists/groupies/fans seeking out the 'Mysterious One'. It was just a rumor that Arctic, former lead of Atonement, was walking the streets in the garb of a Priest. I had to laugh thinking about how every poor soul who was wearing anything remotely robe-like was going to have a microphone shoved into their muzzles, while it would make my year just to see a white, bushy fox-tail. The bells on the door rang as it opened and a brown-robed being came in. My first thought was, 'Am I glad I don't have to do that. I wear out enough shoes being a reporter for a modest newspaper.' It should have set off alarm bells all over my senses - White fox, brown robe. Duh...
The second alarm bell should have gone off when the male asked for 'Tea, Please'. There were 47 different kinds of coffee, and 1 kind of tea - Bagged. The place was pretty empty, so my ears went up when he asked if he could sit on the other side of me. Why not... I was going to stay a couple of more days, searching for a ghost. Then I was going to go back to my little town and write about Farmer Jones growing a prize-winning pumpkin... Again.
"Your pin and your muzzle don't match."
What? Oh... 'Happyfurs'. "My partner's."
A hand patted mine, and I didn't even think about it twice... This was a coffee-shop, not some queer bar. Besides, isn't that what priests did? Sympathize with you, make you feel better. Well, it worked.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
So am I. Bastard dumped me like yesterday's news. I tossed everything of his out except for this damned button.
* * * *
The wolf had to stop as he looked at his hand again... He was too old to be star struck. Mind, he wasn't too old to be in lust. Shaking his head, he got up and went over to the mini-fridge and grabbed whatever little bottle was the closest, untwisted the top and drank it down in a couple of shuddering gulps. Heading back to the bed he sat back down, put the laptop on his legs and saved his work before continuing...
* * * *
I should have noticed his fur was white as snow. And his eyes were pools of deep blue that I could get lost in very easily. Even if he swung that way, I mean - 'Forgive me Brother, I think you are the sexiest thing I have seen in a long time, and I want to suck your dick So Badly...' Eeeesh!
We talked about living in a small town, where nothing was secret for long. And Mrs. Busybody always knew a daughter/son/cousin who happened to be single - Just saying. He asked what I was doing so far from home, and I laughed... I was on a wild snipe hunt, tracking the elusive musician-in-exile. I asked him if anybody had pestered him or his fellow clergy.
"Nobody has shoved anything in my face, yet. But the day is young, and I might get lucky."
He winked at me and my pants got tight in a hurry... Aaaaaa! I almost grabbed for my tail, not wanting it to wag. Not that it mattered as my face was burning up. Clan-Sept or no Clan-Sept, I was either going to kiss him, or he was going to kiss me... Then the doorbells went off and half a dozen furs piled in. He flipped his cowl up and I reluctantly pulled my hand away from his - But not before I had pulled out a business card, and slid it under his palm.
"If you are ever in Shirefalls, look me up."
Shirefalls, pop.107 - And one bored, horny journalist.
He nodded, and gripped my hand. "The stars are only as far away as your imagination."
'Looking into the Mirror, Second album, Track 6'. I shook my head... Priests were into Melodic Rock? Maybe he wasn't always a Lay-Brother.... I wondered if he had any tattoos hidden under his fur. Might be fun to trace one with my tongu- NONONONONO! I am Not walking out of here knot-bound...
"Funny thing about that song... It was almost left off of Dreamtime. But the company insisted we have 6 songs per album side, so we just tossed something together."
My ears went up.
"In those days, anybody who could twirl a knob was called an 'engineer', and stuck behind the console."
Gods! Just interviewing someone who recorded those songs would be enough to get me a free ticket to the big city... I tried my damnedest to speak, but all he did was smile and turn his head towards the gaggle of idiots barking out their coffee orders.
"May the Gods be with you, until the last bell tolls."
Requiem for the Living. He wrapped something around my hand and smiled.
"It's nice to know I still have fans."
And like that, the only thing left of a legend, was an empty cup and saucer.
In a small town, in some out-of-the-way dive, a white fox wearing a brown robe will be performing. He will probably have to borrow someone's guitar because he didn't bring one of his own. And who knows what masterpieces will fall on too-drunk-to-care ears. Arctic won't care. He will enjoy playing one more time. And should he ever drift our way, McKenney's only holds 20, so we might have to rent Old Man Soame's barn.
J. Baroh, Reporter-at-large for the Shirefalls Esquire
* * * *
The wolf again stared at his screen. He carefully pulled a long, white tail-hair from his pocket, and stroked it. He was going to have to edit this a little... Not that the boss would mind, but he didn't want that ravening horde outside descending on His little town. And they could try and pry this hair out of his cold, dead hand... He shook his head, saved his draft, and placed the machine back in it's holder. Maybe he could catch an early flight out... His stomach rumbled. Dinner first. Putting on his coat, he want out into the cool air, whistling, 'Put your bony hand in mine, Death. Remind me of what I still have. What I may yet loose...'
"Wow... You remember 'Requiem'?"
A teen feline with a pile of patches on his coat, looked up at him adoringly.
It wasn't That long ago... The wolf leaned down a little and whispered, "I was in Smalton for Atonement's last tour." He didn't say he snuck in, being both too poor and too young to buy tickets.
"Man... I wish I was around then. The vids just don't do them justice."
No, they don't... "Ever been to The Happening?"
The feline looked even more dejected. "No... I missed out on everything." He looked up at the wolf. "Is it true? Did people go nekked and stuff?"
The wolf laughed. "Me and my partner wore shorts. But, yeah, there were a lot of fur-only guys and girls there."
Not just a Rock-God, but a Nudie-God too? Way Cool!
He undid his 'HappyFurs' pin and latched it on a sparse piece of the feline's jacket. The lad couldn't have been more proud if he had just gotten a medal.
"You... Uh... Busy at the moment?"
The wolf almost shook his head. If that was what the teens were using for pick-up lines these days, it was a wonder they even got laid. "Just looking for a good meal. Any recommendations?"
The feline grinned. "Stay away from FatJacks... It's a grease-pit. Moe's is pretty good. Heidlin's is really good but expensive..."
Poor kid probably couldn't afford to look in the restaurant's window. "Tell ya what. If I can interview you, I can put it on my reporter's expense account." Preferably in the morning, after a long night of hot sex - Now, That was a pick-up line.
The teen tried very hard not to grin his face completely off... Not only was he was going to get to eat at the most expensive place in town, he was going to bed with an older male - Who just happened to be a Rock-God/Nudie/Journalist? Nobody was going to out-cool him for years!
"You bet!"
They walked to the bus station together... The wolf was worried he might not be up to par - It had been several months since he had been with anybody, and this lad already made him feel old.
The feline was curious to find out if having a real cock up his butt would rocket him as hard as the dildo he borrowed from a friend. Surely the older male knew more about sex than Know-it-All Andrews and his anatomy book. And if it was fun - Maybe Mister Wolf needed an apprentice. It would sure beat the hells out of working at his pa's garage... He didn't care a thing for barked knuckles or greasy fur. 'Mayson Pauldt, Assistant Journalist', sounded a lot better. He almost laughed. First get the guy in bed, Then seduce a job out of him. As they waited, he carefully slid a hand across the wolf's crotch. Well, somebody is already fat-sheathed...
"We can always get it to go..." the teen whispered into a twitching ear, caressing what felt like a nicely-sized swelling. He wondered if it was true what they said about knots and how long it took for them to soften. Well, a dick couldn't hurt worse than a spanking... Maybe wake the wolf with some soft tongue rasps - He knew Charlie damn near climbed out of his skin whenever they played 'Popsickle'.
Between the legend caressing his hand and this young male rubbing his sheath, it was a wonder he hadn't popped in his pants! "Does Heidlin's serve First Meal?"
It took the young male a moment to catch the meaning... Then he smiled with just a touch of lust. "Oh yes they do." He purred as a firm hand patted his jean-covered butt.
They turned, and walked back to the wolf's hotel, Jess thinking that room service would do just fine.
"Hey... Think there is a chance they will get together again? I would really like to see them live."
The wolf thought about it a minute... "They are all still alive. Anything is possible." He shook his head again. 'Anything is possible, If you believe hard enough.' He gently squeezed the feline-rump, as the rest of 'If You Believe' ran through his head.
The End