The Lust and the Void
Copyright© 2026 by Gots
Chapter 70: The Untouched Fennec
Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 70: The Untouched Fennec - The Lust and the Void is a longform fantasy gay furry erotica, focusing on Roan's pack and their fight against the darker forces in anthro society. Graphic, intimate and emotional sex scenes make up the other half of this tale.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Consensual Mind Control Gay Fiction Horror Humor Tear Jerker Science Fiction Extra Sensory Perception Body Swap Furry Magic Were animal Sharing DomSub MaleDom Light Bond Gang Bang Group Sex Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism First Facial Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Sex Toys Public Sex Size Transformation Violence
The humans had been there since breakfast.
Three of them, a man and two women, still in the shirts from the morning event. Roan’s Pack was printed across the chest in cheap print, the kind of thing a sponsor hands you when they want a photo and do not much care who is in it. They sat on the split rail at the edge of the circle and tried not to stare too hard at the claws. One of the women kept laughing at nothing. The man asked Zariel, twice, if the iron skin thing was real, and Zariel told him to throw a rock if he was curious. The man did not throw a rock.
Roan was pleased anyway. A morning of handshakes and a tent full of humans who still wanted an autograph meant the last month had not turned every one of them. He said as much while he taped Cass’s wrists. Cass flexed his fingers and did not argue. The news was still bad. This was not.
They ran the usual work. Kiran darting, Zariel planted, Cass trying to land something that mattered. Remi had a practice knife in each hand and was not losing. Lir watched from the shade with his arms folded and did not offer notes. Stark had a notebook. Khepri had a camera he was not supposed to be using on guests and was using anyway, low, so the humans would not notice the lens.
Kiran came in high. Remi turned the blade, stepped through, and put the flat of the other knife against Kiran’s ribs before the fox had finished the joke he was about to make.
“Again,” Remi said.
“You are disgusting at this.” Kiran reset, grinning. “I mean that as a compliment. Mostly.”
They went again. Steel on steel, or the weighted wood that passed for it. Remi did not flourish. He cut the angle, stole the wrist, and was gone before Kiran’s counter arrived. The humans made the sound people make when they do not know the names of the things they are watching. One of them asked if all fennecs were like that. Nobody answered.
Kiran was breathing harder than he wanted to be. He circled, blades low, and decided the knife was not the only thing he could aim at.
“You know you don’t have to stay that innocent,” he said. “Pack and all. Just saying. While I’ve got you here.”
Remi’s ear flicked. He did not look at the rail. “Focus.”
“I am focused. You’re very good with those. Be a shame if that was the only thing you were good with.” Kiran lunged. Remi met it, turned it, and the fox ended up half spun, laughing, still talking. “I’m not even pushing. I’m informing. There’s a difference. Ask anyone.”
“Inform quieter,” Remi said, and took his feet out from under him. “I’m not worried about sex.”
Kiran hit the dirt, knives safe, tail thrashing, delighted. The humans clapped like it was a show. Remi stepped back, offered a paw, and did not smile until Kiran was up and already opening his mouth for the next line.
They kept at it.
Practice blades. Wood on wood, the sound dull. Kiran was faster than he had been in the spring and still not fast enough. Remi turned another cut, stepped inside, and tapped him on the hip with the flat before the fox could recover the line. Kiran swore, reset, and came in lower. Same result. The humans on the rail had stopped pretending they were only half watching.
Kiran was grinning when he should have been thinking.
“New rules,” he said. “I land one. Just one. You lose the virginity tonight. Fair?”
Remi actually laughed. Short, real. “With knives? You won’t touch me. That’s my ground, not yours.”
“Then you’ve got nothing to worry about.” Kiran spun a blade, showing off for the rail. “Easy bet.”
“Fine.” Remi did not spin anything. “When you don’t, two weeks. No sex. No paw. You sit with it heavy behind those balls and let it simmer, driving you mad.”
Kiran’s mouth opened and stayed that way. Across the circle Cass made a noise that was not quite a cough. Roan did not look up from retaping his wrist, but his ear was turned.
“Take it,” Cass said. “You’ve talked for ten minutes. Pay for it or stop.”
“Two weeks,” Kiran said, wounded. “That’s evil.”
“Then land the strike,” Roan said.
Kiran looked at Remi. Remi waited, knives low, not unkind. The fox’s tail had already decided.
“Deal.”
The humans cheered like someone had scored. Remi glanced at them, and for a second the serious face cracked.
“Even higher stakes?” he said.
He tossed the practice knives into the dirt. From the rack he took four live blades, short, worn handles, edges that had seen real work. He offered two to Kiran hilt-first. Kiran took them. The weight was different. He felt it in his wrist.
“Anthros regenerate,” Remi said, loud enough for the rail. “There may be a few real cuts. Don’t get squeamish.”
Roan stepped in before either of them moved.
“You forgot to ask,” he said. “Live steel on my ground.”
Remi’s ears tipped. “Alpha.”
Roan looked at the blades, at the humans, at Kiran’s face. He could have shut it down. He did not.
“Careful,” he said. “Either of you gets stupid, I end it. Go.”
Everything else stopped.