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“Midnight” by Kayodé Lycaon [18+]
8th November 2021 • The Voice of Dog • Khaki and friends.
00:00:00 00:14:36

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[18+] After a difficult therapy session and spending the evening alone, Conor is lying awake in bed. When Donovan returns from an evening with friends, Conor struggles not to push his partner away.

Today’s story is “Midnight” by Kayode Lycaon, a gregarious painted wolf who is just starting out his writing career. His story “Dark Garden Lake” about a reluctant assassin appears in The Reclamation Project - Year One by FurPlanet, and you can find more of his stories on his website kayode.co.

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If you have a story you think would be a good fit, you can check out the requirements, fill out the submission template and get in touch with Khaki on Twitter or Telegram!

Transcripts

Khaki QOD:

Today, I'm leading a mature story for adult listeners.

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If that's not your cup of tea or there are youngsters listening,

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you can skip this one and there'll be a new story for you next time.

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Content warning.

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There are mentions of past self-harm and past traumas.

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You're listening to the voice of dog.

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I'm cocky.

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You're faithful, fireside companion.

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And today's story is midnight by KOD.

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Like.

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Uh, gregarious painted Wolf who was just starting out his writing career.

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The story, dark garden lake about a relaxant assassin

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appears in the reclamation project year one by for planet.

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And you can find more of his stories on his website, KOD dot Cole.

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Please enjoy.

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Midnight.

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Bye.

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Kiyota like.

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Maya's flick as I hear the front door creak open.

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The fair on the back of my neck raisers and my breath quickens.

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My brain screams that someone is breaking into the apartment and

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then it starts looking for weapons.

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I squeezed my eyes shut and try to ignore it.

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To little effect.

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There's a baseball bat in the corner, but it's on the other side of the room.

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I should be able to get to it, but even if I don't get to it, I can still

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make the intruder regret being alive.

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I may be a tiny runt of a Wolf, but I know how to fight mean.

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Heavy sunk makes me flinch, but then I hear the heavy familiar

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footfalls of a snow leopard.

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They must have learned to walk from Willdabeast.

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My partner's home.

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I slowly opened my eyes and tried to get my breathing under control.

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Donovan flicks on a light and a glimmer of yellow seeps under the bedroom door.

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Then an unsteady pile of silverware clatters to the floor.

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He curses, none too softly.

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And I cringe because I'm the one who stacked half a

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dozen knives, butter knives.

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Fortunately on top of three precariously stacked balls.

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After some rummaging in the kitchen, the light fades out.

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The bedroom door opened slowly as Doniphan beaks in.

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My night adjusted eyes can see his muzzle clearly in the cold

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blue of the distance streetlights far below the living room window.

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Donovan startles back as he sees the reflected gleam from my eyes.

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Connor.

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He asked softly.

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Yeah.

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I croak.

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He pauses for a moment to gather his thoughts, ISU.

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I appreciate that.

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He's learned not to ask stupid questions.

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Like if I was awake,

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You okay.

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Just peachy.

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I pad between quick breaths.

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Donovan pushes the door all the way, helping and steps over to the bed.

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I scoot over so he can sit beside me.

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He holds out a POL and I take it.

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While he sits there, his thumb rubs slowly over the back of my pool.

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He breathes slowly and deliberately until my breaths matches.

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The pain in my chest eases and my ears fold back as my

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brain starts working again.

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Sorry by the knives.

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I say sheepishly.

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He looks at me for a moment.

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Puzzled.

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Then he quirks a little.

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We'll work on properly stacking dishes and other night.

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I look up into his eyes with a forced smile.

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Before someone dies in some horribly tragic way.

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I hope.

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You're not getting rid of either of us that quickly you chuckles.

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Well, then I say, Yeah, I'll make an, a rather hard on a Wolf, you know?

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He sits up and pulls back the covers to peak, not all that hard.

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He replies.

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I snort and let myself sink back into the bed.

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I suppose not.

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Donovan stands up and let's go with my ball before tugging his shirt off.

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My eyes linger on him.

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He isn't the most attractive snow leopard in the world is

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almost the exact opposite of me.

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Taller slower and heavier.

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Yeah, the porch on his belly has a certain dignity to it.

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More, a product of sitting in an office than lack of exercise.

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He'd reached the prime of his life young and left it far too early while

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I have yet to enter the prime of mine.

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I smile as he removed his pants.

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The color of his boxers is lost in the dimness of the light.

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But I imagine them to be the red ones.

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I like so much the ones I picked out.

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Then my ears sag.

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Cause I remember nearly having a panic attack in the middle

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of the department store.

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So much of our lives is spent dealing with my issues.

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My attention wanders.

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Until the bed creaks has Donovan slips under the covers.

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Next to me.

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I look over my shoulder at him.

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Our eyes meet.

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And his scent fills my nose.

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There's a faint, sharp note of alcohol.

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I have noticed before.

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But I expected that.

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Part of me still aches for one more drink, but I'm not going to ask him to

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give up, having a drink with friends.

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What I didn't expect was the sour smell of worry.

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Did you want to talk a bit.

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He asks quietly.

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If you wanna, I reply rolling over.

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He ain't got nothing else to do, but lie here.

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He reaches a poor out to brush my muzzle.

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Rough day.

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Not particularly.

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My ears fall back slightly.

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School was fine.

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Therapy sucked.

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There's days with Megan, right?

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Usually I sniff.

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Megan was out.

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So David and I did in the MDR session.

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Oh, who says.

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You could have, let me know.

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No, I don't, you're not out.

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I say quietly.

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You spend every other day of the week with me.

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Still.

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I grabbed his poor.

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No.

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You got to take care of yourself.

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Ain't going to do neither of us.

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Any good.

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Otherwise.

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Sorry.

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He whispers.

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I breathe out slowly and softened my tone.

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You don't need to apologize.

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I feel guilty all the time.

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Keeping you stuck at home.

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Giving you a night out, makes me feel better.

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Don't worry about letting me cry it out once a week.

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I always worry.

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He says, as he slides a finger down the inside of my arm,

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brushing across the thin scars.

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I got to learn how to cope sometime.

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I notice Paul, and then look him in the eye.

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And I do appreciate all you do for me.

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We should have more to give back.

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Tears up a bit and I'm feeling my own eyes trying to do the same.

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Guilt eats at me because I know he wants to hold me that he needs more than words.

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I don't know if I can.

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Therapy took everything I had.

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We living the past tore open old wounds that had only begun to heal.

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After spending the evening alone.

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Everything had closed in.

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And I can't bear to be touched.

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I

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don't say that he sniffs you're fighting as hard as you can.

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He wiped a tear from my eye.

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As close as he dare get without asking me first.

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There's a lot of med changes before we get it right.

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I shift over to rest my head on his shoulder, but my ears flicked

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back when he kisses my forehead.

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Give me a minute.

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I say shakily, as he pulls back with a whispered apology.

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He gently rubs my Juul.

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Speaking of meds.

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Did you take yours?

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I look up at him.

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Yeah.

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Y.

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You're a lot more awake than I expected.

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Did you increase your antipsychotic?

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Like you were supposed to.

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My ears fold back and I grumble out a no.

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He looks at me for a long moment before I look away.

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I'm dreading another increase.

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The last time I felt like a dead Wolf walking.

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My eyes couldn't stay open.

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My pores shook and I was tripping over my own feet, but the

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worst was the lack of emotions.

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There was no happier, sad, only a blank unbearable emptiness.

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Emptiness that could lead me to cut again, just so I could feel something.

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It took me nearly a week at the higher dose to feel somewhat normal.

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Again.

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If I got you another pill, would you take it?

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He asks quietly.

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If you insist, I mumble.

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I do.

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Donovan gets up with a stiff groan and walks out of the

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room to get me a cup of water.

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When he comes back, he uses phone as a flashlight to find the right medication.

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After he finds it.

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He brings it to me.

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I rolled into a sitting position and take the pill he holds out.

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Then I reach out with trembling pours to grasp the prophet cup.

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It takes both of them to hold the cup without spilling the water everywhere, but

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I'm thankful he doesn't try to help me.

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Thanks.

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I whisper as I hand the cup back.

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You're welcome.

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Donovan says.

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Then he sits on the bed next to me and rubs his back with a moderate curse.

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I could rub your back.

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If you lack.

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I say.

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Hey knowns and then walks around the bed so he can lie down on his side of it.

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I crawl out from under the covers on do all fours.

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The room feels like it's tipping back and forth.

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So I have to concentrate on moving carefully.

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He's almost too large for my short legs.

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But eventually I'm able to straddle his back without sitting on him.

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I reach out my pores and cold my fingers through his thick

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for feeling for tense muscles.

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It doesn't take long before I managed to get a grown out

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of him was I need his back.

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I close my eyes and work by feel.

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My fingers are clumsy.

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But they haven't lost any of their strength.

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A bit later, I realized my bear, sheath and bowls are brushing against this for.

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I don't know if the, my tip is peaking.

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I'm not exactly in the mood, but it does feel nice.

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As I work, my body backs down from the anxiety.

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I felt all night.

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By the time I'm done rubbing his back, my hackles have smoothed out

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completely, and my ears are relaxed.

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Then I lie down next to him, half leaning on him.

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He turns to look at me.

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Our noses touch and I likely kiss his lips.

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My tail wags slowly and his puffs up.

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In response, Donovan tilts his head so he can kiss more fully.

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His lips linger on mine and I smile.

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Encouraged he rolls on his side so he can reach out a

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tentative ball toward my shoulder.

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I leaned towards it to give him permission while I rest my muzzle on his neck.

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His other arm wraps around me to support my head while his poor strokes, my back.

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I close my eyes and breathe out slowly.

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The ball, my shoulder moves to my side and it's soft fingers come through my, for.

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I love you, Connor.

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He whispers into my ear.

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More than anyone else in the world.

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My hackles bristle for a moment that has words.

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I forced them back down.

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I opened my eyes and look into his.

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The glow faintly with reflected light.

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I try to say the same words, but they catch in my throat.

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My chest hurts from the effort, but I can't get them out.

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Fighting back guilt.

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I reach out to rubbish cheek.

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Our now.

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I whispered earnestly.

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And now you do.

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He kisses my forehead.

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And I know you love me the same.

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Aye.

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My voice stammers.

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I do.

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I leaned my head harder into his neck and sniff.

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What can I tell you?

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I cry.

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You don't need to.

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He cradles the back of my head and kisses me again.

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Love is more than just words.

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Is Paul's slides down my side to my waist and he looked me in the

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eyes with an unspoken question.

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You can touch me.

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I reply.

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He wraps his poor, gently around my sheath and his fingers brushed

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the short, soft fare back and forth slowly drawing out my cock.

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I knows his neck while the back of his clothes rub along my shaft.

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The leathery pads kiss my tip and I closed my eyes.

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My tears dry as he follows me.

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Each touch, ease the tension in my shoulders.

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And I feel small and vulnerable in this pause.

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The warm glow between my legs.

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We just, from my heart, as I leaned against him.

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Donovan keeps his strokes light as my body starts to respond.

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My car, correct to its full length.

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And there's a familiar twinge in my shaft, warning me things aren't working right.

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Pressure in my cock bills until the tip almost aches, but nothing happens.

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Something is squeezing parts inside of me making orgasm all but impossible.

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The feeling peaks and then everything relaxes only to slowly build again, like

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it always does after I've taken my meds.

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I wrapped my arm around him to hold myself close to his chest.

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While he continued his administration's.

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He never pushes me too far, keeping me in a gentle haze of distant pleasure.

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My need ebbs and flows, never getting urgent as he touches

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me in the most intimate way.

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The tension in my chest melts.

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His other poor strokes me from head to tail and the motion pushes my ears back.

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So they flop into place with each stroke.

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When we kiss.

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Is per rumbles through us.

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These moments where we both share love in the same way.

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Our precious beyond any price.

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So many times we need to meet halfway and be left, wanting.

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Tonight.

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I can accept this touch.

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Be as close as he so often desires.

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In return.

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His touch feels might need to be desired to know I'm wanted above anything else.

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My lips linger on his again, but my head is starting to feel heavy.

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I licked Donovan's chin to get his attention without breaking the moment.

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Meds kicking in.

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He whispers.

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Yeah.

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I nod.

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It's Paul leaves my cock to pull me into his embrace.

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As he holds me close is per roars in my ears.

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It shakes me to my core and tears cloud, my vision.

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I blinked them away so I can look him in the eye.

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In the windows to our souls, there are depths only our love can reveal.

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I am his and he is mine.

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Nothing else matters.

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No costs is too high.

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Because all I am.

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Is enough for him.

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And finally I can whisper.

Khaki QOD:

I love you.

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This was midnight by Kiyota likey on.

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Read for you by cocky your faithful fireside companion.

Khaki QOD:

You can find more stories on the web@thevoice.dog or find the show

Khaki QOD:

wherever you get your podcasts.

Khaki QOD:

And if you have a story you think would be a good fit, please get in touch.

Khaki QOD:

I'm at khaki doggy on Twitter and telegram.

Khaki QOD:

And I'd love to hear from you.

Khaki QOD:

Thank you for listening.

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