Making Love-Bubbles
The kiss was soft. Was sweet. Succulent.
Was delivered right to her lips.
And was broken ...
... so she could breathe. A tiny, eyes-barely-open inhale. A paws-round-his-back grasp. "Oh," she breathed. (And what a breath!)
Handel flushed. And moved his muzzle a bit. To mouth on her cheek. To wet her cheek-fur. To suck, suck softly on her cheek. And to kiss her there. And then to move to the side of her neck. To kiss her there, too, and there ... oh, and there! Oh, wait ... wait, there.
Oh, everywhere.
While her head lolled slightly this way (and slightly that). While her lips, parted, let out every breath. And brought every breath in.
As she held (very warmly, and very delicately) to him.
Their furry bodies both warm (warmer ... no, warmest!). Both of them huffing slightly. And both of their legs half-tangled in the navy-blue sheets. Half-exposed, their bodies were, to the air. Half-exposed. Yet fully pressed to each other. Full contact. With their clothes in a pile on the carpet.
"I, uh," the squirrel started, panting a bit. "I, uh ... uh ... " Her eyes squeezed shut. Watering a bit. Her legs parted. His paw, moments ago, having gone to her thighs. Having opened her agile legs like opening scissor-blades: with great care.
He was there. He was in. The pink, swollen tip of him ... sensitively sliding. An inch or two. Stopped. Pulling back. And ... sliding back in. Deeper, now. More fully, now. Oh, she felt so splendid ... it felt so good!
"Huh," was her airy sound. Her body tried to arch. Her belly arched up to his. Their belly-fur mixing. Their breaths in tandem ...
... as the porcupine slowly found a rhythm. Slowly recovered from the feel of her. Enough to consciously put his nose on her shoulder. Moving his hips forward, burying in the heat of her. That muscular, wet pouch of ... femininity. Just ... " ... huh. Oh ... " He licked his lips. And licked her fur. Her shoulder. Her collarbone ... matting fur with his tongue.
The squirrel's eyes still shut. Paws still round his back. All his spines were downward. Were flat. She couldn't be pricked unless he raised them ... each spine having a little erector muscle. Which would "arm" them into position. But they were all flat and snugged together. She wouldn't get hurt ... oh, it didn't ... didn't hurt ...
... as he pulled his hips back. As he paused. Such a tease! The way he paused. And the amount of time ... seconds, seconds. And plunging back. Into that warmth. That sheath between her legs. Built for this. Built to smother his member with warmth and wetness ...
... while his motions brushed her vaginal walls with the most delicious frictions.
Both of them inching upward in pleasure. Pleasuring each other. Loving each other. Inching upward ... their hearts, pulses. Breaths. Everything getting faster, faster.
More, more ...
... the yearning, the wanting. The drive.
The love.
Just grew. It just grew.
Grew with his quickened rhythms. Now humps. They were moving too fast to be rhythms. Now, they were humps. But they were soft. They were caring. They were delicate. He was purposely driving her to a slow, manic, burning ...
... pleasure!
Tess's head rolled to one side. Her cheek on the pillow. A pillow beneath her head, and her cheek there, and she turned her head the other way. So that the other cheek was on the pillow-sheet. All the while, panting. All the while.
Her legs spread a bit more. Her toes curling, the claws on her toes ... digging into the sheets. Foot-paws stretching. And legs bent at the knees. As she tried to bring her legs around. Tried to dig her heels into the backs of his thighs. Or into his rump, even. From where his rudder-like tail, with all its dormant, unarmed spines ... and the fur. The brown fur. The fur that was a bit coarser than hers. Porcupines weren't as soft, fur-wise, as other furs ... but ... no secret. That was no secret.
And he was soft enough ... soft enough. Especially with ... with how he was moving, and how he was treating her. He'd been so kind. So ...
... surprising.
"Huh ... uhn," was a grunt.
"Mm ... " A quick inhale through the nose. "Mmm ... "
They'd eaten a meal. They HAD ... enjoyed their supper. And, uh, it was ... it was good. But a blur. If you asked the squirrel right now, at this moment ... if you asked her what they'd just eaten for supper, she wouldn't have been able to tell. Wouldn't have been able to recall. It was ... simply a segue into this. Oh, this. Oh ...
... the porcupine's foot-paws dug into the sheets, pushing down on the mattress. As the muscles in his legs flexed. As he dug for purchase. As he drove forward. Still driving. Not letting up on the forward motion. Simply holding it for as long as he could. Grinding and wriggling his hips as he stayed locked in a hilt ... and then relaxing!
Relaxing, and slipping out ... just an inch. Only an inch. The porcupine's ... well, porcupine-hood (for that's what it was, wasn't it) about six and a half inches. An inch bigger than a rodent's would be ... for most rodents, Tess knew, were only five inches. But ... but, NO, that didn't matter. It ... didn't, but, uh, she, uh ... it was NICE to know. Yes. Yes, it was ...
Handel pulled back. His paws rubbing up and down her bare, soft sides. Her furry sides. She was so warm. And so agile. But, then, he supposed all squirrels were. And ... just the feel of her. Of being IN her, and being ON her, and ... being WITH her (most importantly) ... oh, it was just so nice. So, so good. More than he could've wanted. More than he could've wished for.
"Oh ... oh!" Tess chittered. She cleared her throat. Licking her own dry lips.
And seeing her doing that, Handel leaned in ... and licked them for her.
Which led to more kissing. More head-tilting. More of her whiskers brushing his nose, tickling his nose ... and more of him raising his head, relenting, as she sucked on his neck. As his hips bucked, bucked forward. Bucked at her. Humping. In. Out. In ... out. The pink, slick stiffness of him ... feeling delicious to her. As it plowed and dug through her feminine depths. And to him ...
... the pleasure was the most sensitive, most ... pleasurable pleasure. A rising, a rising, a ... building. Toward ... toward ...
"Huh. Humm ... mm ... " Hers, too. Hers, too ... was coming. She was close. She felt, somehow, wetter. Somehow, hotter. And more desperate. Her paws grasped at his outer fur (which rose above his concealed dormant spines). Her breasts were heaving. Her nipples, hard and erect, rubbing against his chest as his body slid sensuously up and down the horizontal length of her.
The porcupine's rudder-like tail rose up and down ... as if being operated by an invisible lever. While here tail, bushy and a bit matted, was half-pinned beneath her back and rump (which were sticking a bit ... to the sheets). Her tail, what was exposed of it ... hanging off the side of the bed. Flittering in the air. Making little brushing sounds.
Sounds. Sounds ... like their baited breaths. Like the little grunts and moans from him, and the little squeaks from her. Like the squelching sound coming from his controlled rutting. Like the cute, little slap-slap of his tensed-up sac. Like ... like ...
" ... ohhh," the squirrel went, tensing for a second. Almost. Almost! "Huh ... uhn, I ... I, al-almost ... "
"Shhh ... huhn, hush ... hun ... " Handel swallowed. Swallowed and nodded, unable to fully get the words out. Just trying to let her know that ... to enjoy this. That he would lead her to it. He didn't need a warning. He ... he could feel her body's approach, and ...
... and she nodded, swallowing weakly. Just holding on. Oh, just holding on.
Supper? What supper?
What had they, uh ... had for dessert? Pie? Pie ... and ... what, uh ... who'd gotten undressed first? Was the candle on the table still lit? Uh ... uh, what?
Everything ... a haze.
Only this.
Right now, only this ... had existed. Was existing. Would exist.
The two of them. Their sounds. Their bodies. Their brand-new love. Their ...
... pleasure.
She hit hers first. Which surprised her ... for it wasn't often (from her limited, modest experience ... and, also, from what she'd heard from other furs) ... it wasn't often that the femme lasted longer than the male, right? That ... that ... right ... oh, mm ... mm? Why ... who cares? Tess, who ... " ... uhhn! Huh, huhn ... "
His paws slipped under her tensing back. He felt the twitching of her muscles beneath her rippling, matted fur. He felt the dampness. The sweat of her. It was impossible to yiff and not wind up with sweat-matted fur (which, if one didn't shower afterward, kept the scent of yiff on the body ... until washed off).
The squirrel's eyes darted beneath her closed lids. And she opened them (her eyes) slowly. The water dripping out a bit. Not tears, necessarily. Just instinctual water that had built up from this ... or maybe they were tears. The pleasure, the joy ... could've made them. Whatever the case, her eyes, watery as they were, darted for his ... needing to make contact. She just needed to make contact.
The porcupine's paws (a bit rougher than most fur's paws, but ... oh, it just made him more masculine) stroked her. Held. Stopped. And held to her. And started moving again, stroking again. Little growls, little yips ... escaping from his lips. His own eyes barely open.
Eyes met. Gazes ...
... into each other's souls, seemingly. And, after all, why not ... they were imprinting on each other's souls. By doing this. Leaving echoes of each other ... inside. Spiritually, this ... was spiritual, and was ... so, so intimate. Was so close. Was ...
... so good! Oh, so good! She held on and squeaked, allowing her eyes to close once more. Her pussy in shaky, little spasms. Muscle tremors. Which flung pleasure through her core, to her extremities. Like some kind of furry wildfire. Oh ... oh ... she huffed and squeaked softly, almost oblivious to the fact that he was humping again.
"Huhn, unnn ... " Puff, puff ... for air. Paws on fur. On her. "Mm ... mmm!" Hump, and ... huff! And hilt! And ...
... her lips went into a satisfied smile. Still enduring her own orgasm, and knowing, now, that he was joining her. He was feeling it, too, and ...
... his member twitched and jerked within her wet, muscular warmth. Spurt! Spurt ... each spurt of seed sending a jolt of pleasure back through his member, back to his groin, his belly. Everything affected. Everything flushed beneath fur. Everything! Oh ...
The squirrel had finally gone quiet. Her climax abating ...
... while the porcupine's was still going on. Spurt, spurt ... sowing his seed in her. A very special, very humbling knowledge. That he was sowing a femme like her. So beautiful, and ... so confident.
And ...
... " ... ohhh," he exhaled, shivering. His body quivered, and he barked out. Barked ... and huffed. Swallowed. Feeling the last spurts. Feeling her body milking him for all of it. Oh, she had to have all of it ... her body needed all of it. And he had no choice but to give all of it ... which, were she in heat, would've been a problem. Porcupines and squirrels were able to reproduce. BARELY, but ... they were just on this side of genetically compatible enough ... to be able to do so. Just barely, but ...
... she wasn't in heat. No need to worry.
No worries.
Just a natural, spiritual expression to consummate this. This love. This commitment.
Tess and Handel. Newly-mates.
Oh!
And, after a few minutes, when both were quiet, and when the porcupine began to shrink a bit ...
... it was she who finally spoke (in a voice so quiet as to be fragile), "I ... I ... uh, thank you." She swallowed. Sniffled. "I ... " Her eyes watered. She closed them. Held her breath.
He ground his hips to hers a few extra times, letting her feel his presence. Letting their bodies bump.
"I ... thanks, Handel."
The porcupine flushed. How could he flush? Porcupines, naturally, were self-conscious. They were, after all, different from most furs. But he'd been SO amazing just now ... wow ... in bed. In ... every way! How he touched her! How he worked her body ... for a self-conscious, somewhat-shy fur (who'd delayed, several times, in asking her to mate in the first place) ... well, knowing all that, his flush was EXTRA cute. That flush of heat. The rosier pinks of his inner ears.
"I mean it," the squirrel whispered, sniffling. "That's ... " A deep sigh. "That's the best yiff of my life. I ... and, I, uh, it's NOT just the yiff. I ... I didn't know you loved me that much." Her voice broke. "Why didn't you tell me sooner ... " She trailed, so as not to cry. She breathed, instead. Breathe!
"I don't know ... I ... I was afraid," he stammered, still inside her. Belly still on hers. Chest still on her breasts. "Porcupines have ... well, prickly," he offered, "reputations. Most furs have assumptions about us that aren't true, but ... they're enough to make them wanna stay away."
"I don't wanna stay away," she assured. Hugging from beneath him. "I don't ... "
"I know," he whispered. Shyly. "I ... I know, but I was afraid that you WOULD. I ... but I asked, and ... "
" ... here we are," she finished for him. Swallowing. Smiling. Widely and warmly smiling. "Here we are," she repeated.
A slight, pleasured nod. As he pulled his hips back and ... his penis flopped out. A bit limp now. Still wet from her. Still tingling a bit with ... all those feelings.
"Heh ... mm ... that's, uh, some good equipment you have."
A flush!
"You really know how to use it."
Handel nodded a bit.
"Can I, uh ... ask ... "
" ... if I've done this before?" A pause. A quiet nod. Recently, only with holograms, but ... yeah, he'd done it before. For real.
"That's okay. So have I," she told him. A pause. A swallow. "Sometimes, things don't work out. We've all had broken mate-ships ... " And the memories that lingered from them, she thought to herself. But don't ... this will be different. This will work. This will LAST. That was always the hope. That's what kept you going, wasn't it ... when a relationship didn't work. When it failed. When ... hope that welled eternal: for another. Another chance. Another fur.
Another shot at love.
Maybe this was it. Maybe this WAS ... the one that would stick.
And it didn't matter that it had happened a little (or a lot) fast. Furry mate-ships often DID happen fast. Most of them did, in fact, and ... it was just how furs worked.
"I ... love you," Handel told her, breaking the silence. Breaking the hazy, romantic thoughts with a hazy, romantic confession. Not so much a secret anymore, though!
"Oh ... " Her smile grew wider. "I love you, too ... mm ... " The porcupine had slid off her body. To her side. And the squirrel shifted about. So that she, too, was on her side. Both of them were. Facing each other. Bare to the bedroom air.
"I don't wanna leave," he told her. In a whisper.
"What?"
"Don't make me go back to my quarters ... I wanna sleep with you."
She flushed. "Like I'm gonna make you leave?" she asked. "I would never do that. No ... I'm not letting you get off this BED, let alone ... make it to the door," she vowed, giving him a smile. Wondering, though, in the back of her mind, why he'd asked that. Maybe, in a past romance, he'd been used. Used by another fur for ... why would anyone use someone like him? He might have a rough exterior, but ... once you got past it, and ...
"I'm sorry. I just ... just wanted to make sure."
"We're mates. We agreed. That's ... why we did this," she whispered, her nose on his chin. She breathed in.
He nodded, his fur and spines rustling on the sheets.
"We're mates," she repeated.
"Mates," he said with her (or just after her).
"But, uh ... your quarters must be better. You've a higher rank than me."
"Yeah, but ... "
"Well, we'll decide where we're gonna live," she promised, "later. Details," she whispered, lips to his, "later." A soft, soft kiss.
He exhaled through the nose.
Both of them spent from their love-making. And both of them reeling from it, as well. It was like a dream. Honestly. And ...
" ... should we shower?" she asked. "Or wait 'til morning?"
"I'm too comfortable," was his confession, "to move." He was nosing her gently. "Besides, we'll just have to take another shower in the morning." He opened his eyes as he said this. Looking to her.
"Why are we gonna have to ... take," she said, trailing. A smile melting onto her muzzle. "Oh. Heh ... right," she whispered. And took a deep, deep breath. Looking at this male that was now her mate. "Right," she whispered. "We WILL," she agreed. For, no doubt, they would wake as they were now waning ... in a pulsing, heart-hammering tangle of fur and limb.
What an amazing feeling this was. To connect like this. To share like this.
To love like this.
And, again, their thoughts drifted. As both went quiet. As both thought of the future, but ... it was too much to handle. They could only think of now. Could only breathe of now ... could only, now, snugged safely, fall asleep ...
... and let tomorrow worry about itself.
"Lieutenant Handel is supposed to do that."
"I gave him the night off," said Herkimer. Who was in the mess hall. Creating tomorrow's maintenance schedule. Handel was on the mouse's Ops team. Particularly, in charge of organizing and overseeing maintenance projects (from restocking the hydroponics bay, sickbay, and the galley, to making sure the Captain's chair was suitable to sit in). But Herkimer, at the moment, was doing the porcupine's schedule for him ... it was only fair. Being that the mouse was making the porcupine collect all those daily departmental reports (for losing their bet) ... anyway, when the porcupine had come to him earlier and confessed he'd finally done it (asked Tess to supper) ... well, the mouse had been so happy for him, and ... so, as a friendly favor, he was doing the porcupine's work. TONIGHT, anyway. This wasn't going to be a nightly habit. Herkimer had his OWN mate to get to. But the mouse knew how important a first yiff was in setting the tone for any furry mate-ship, and he wanted Handel to take his time ... so ...
"The night off? Why?" Advent demanded. Squinting her golden, slitted eyes. Standing next to his circular, little table.
"He's busy," the mouse stressed, not making eye contact. Not at first. And then looking right at the jaguar. "And I'm busy, too. So ... go away." There was a definite tone of ... hatred? Resentment? In the normally gentle mouse's voice ...
The jaguar squinted more, looking the grey-furred mouse over. "What, you grew a backbone when I wasn't looking?"
"Get away!" he squeaked.
The mess hall went a bit quiet. Other furs looking in their direction.
All the attention causing Herkimer to flush and look back at the computer pad he held. The mouse swallowed, trying to quell his emotions.
But the jaguar REVELED in the awkwardness. And chuckled. "Heh ... I don't see a sign saying 'mouses only' ... I can sit wherever I want," the jaguar said. And, indeed, taking a sit. "So ... how are things?"
"Things?" Herkimer asked, looking up again. Agitated. His whiskers were twitching. His ears swiveling. And his tail, too, did snake.
"Yeah, things. You know, your job, your health. Your yiff life."
"None," he stressed, "of your business."
"You're gonna flip your lid, you know, if you vocalize like that. So much anger. Let it all out, Herky. Come on. I can take it."
"Opal's my mate now. NOT you. I ... never loved you," he said, looking back to his pad.
"Oh, but you did. You still do." A little chuckle. And a shrug. "And that's why I'm still sitting here, isn't it?"
The mouse's ears burned. He gritted his teeth.
"A cow, huh ... that's different." A pause. A head-tilt. "They must make great tail, through, right? I mean, she's definitely built for it. For taking it, I mean."
Herkimer clenched his paws on his pad. And shifted in his seat.
"You look uncomfortable."
"I am."
"Can't two old friends just sit and talk?" she asked, raising her brow. Acting so innocent. She was so seductive.
"We're NOT friends. Stop it," he asked. "Just ... "
"Where is she, then?"
"What?" A teary-eyed blink. A sniffle.
"Our resident Jersey. Your new femme."
A sigh. "She's in stellar cartography. Mapping our course. Looking at stars."
"How romantic," the jaguar whispered. Her golden, black-spotted fur ... the mouse remembered running his paws through it. Remembered burying his nose in it. Remembered his body against that. Against her. The cat purred lowly, whispering, "I have feelings, too, Herkimer. You know?"
The mouse quivered. Took a breath. "Then ACT like it," he spat. And gathered his pad and ... stood. Eyes watering. The pain. Oh ... the pain ... and she was just twisting it. Twisting at him. Clawing at him!
And the mouse left the mess hall.
And the jaguar, eyes squinted, expression unreadably stoic ... watched him go. And dug her claws into the table-top.
"The water is obscured," Aria remarked, blinking. Standing, bare, in the bathroom. Her white bobtail flicker-flicked. Her ears waggled. And she looked to him.
The vole smiled. "Well, uh ... it's supposed to be."
The snow rabbit blinked. "Bubbles," she said.
Ross smiled wider. For some reason, hearing her say the word 'bubbles' ... made him wanna giggle. "Yeah. It's a bubble bath."
"I've never seen one."
"You've never taken a bubble bath?"
"Never seen one. Never ... taken one," she elaborated. "No." Her voice at a whisper. The hot water was still pouring into the tub through the spout. "Snow furs do not engage in such ... frivolities."
"No? What about yiff?" the meadow mouse asked. Smiling (a bit bashfully). "Mm?"
"Yiff is not a frivolity. It is a necessity."
A giggle-squeak. "Mm ... well, uh ... heh ... true. But, uh ... no, it's simple. Just get some soapy solution, put it in the tub, and the water churns it as it pours in. And bubbles form. And then you get in, and you put the bubbles all over your skin." A pause. A twitch. "Fur. Fur," he corrected. And swallowed. And he took a breath and smiled for her. "And you put bubbles on your ears and nose, and they make little, soapy popping sounds."
"I see," she said, staring at the bubbly water.
"They don't bite."
"I thought not." She looked to him. And eye-smiled. "I was just wondering how one steps into a tub of bubbles."
"Delicately," was Ross's response. He, too, bare. His dirt-brown fur, earthy-brown fur ... rising and falling as he breathed. His eyes a bit tired. He'd been having trouble sleeping the past few nights. Oh, his shore leave ... they're shore leave ... had been very good. Very nice. But ... he'd never been the best sleeper. And being so close to nature and so close to solid ground, and then getting back into space. It was still a bit disconcerting for him. Or something.
"Is the tub full?" the snow rabbit asked. "I cannot see."
Ross got on his knees, leaning forward a bit. And stuck his arm into the mountains of bubbles. "Ooh."
"Is it too hot?" Her slender, white ears waggled with concern. She frowned.
"No," he whispered. "It's very nice, actually. And, yes, almost full."
Aria nodded. And went to turn the water off. Her eyes darting down to look at her mate's rump. His rump-cheeks and his naked, pink tail. Thin and silky and wavering about in the air. And off went the water. And back leaned Ross, looking up to her.
"Shall we get in?" the snow rabbit asked.
"You were ... staring at my rump."
"Yes."
"Oh."
"Does my admiring your posterior bother you?"
A giggle-squeak. Eyes darting. "Uh ... " And eyes stopping. Looking up to her. "No," he whispered.
"Good." An eye-smile. With her ice-blue eyes. Oh, how did she do that? How did snow-furs do that? Eye-smiles. "Shall we get in?" she asked again.
A shy, little nod. "Um ... femmes first."
A blink. "Why?"
"Well ... just because," Ross said, shrugging a bit. "Um ... because you deserve to get in first."
"Perhaps we should get in TOGETHER," was her suggestion.
The meadow mouse had no problem with that. And he quietly took her paw. Squeezed it, and ... lifted a leg. A foot-paw. And sank it into the bubbles.
She did the same.
He sighed. "Oh ... oh, that's nice." A deep inhale. And an equally deep exhale. "Ooh ... " And he brought his other leg in. So that he was standing in the bubbly, warm water of the tub.
She followed suit. Cautious about it (still not entirely certain what it was these bubbles ... were supposed to be doing).
The tub was designed to comfortably fit two furs (as furs often ... 'showered and bathed' together). And Ross sat, and ... the snow rabbit sat, too.
Until they were sitting in sloshing, warm water. Which soaked, soaked ... oh, soaked! Soaked into fur. To the skin beneath.
Ross closed his eyes. And breathed deeply. "Feels really good." And he opened his eyes. "Yeah?"
The snow rabbit mimicked him. Closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath. Trying it out. And when her eyes opened, she eye-smiled (again). "Yes," she agreed.
Ross grinned. His whiskers twitching. Nose sniffing. And his tail making watery sounds as it went about like a water snake. The bubbles were up to the middle of his chest. And up to her breasts. And even higher. Patches of bubbles.
And the meadow mouse scooped up some bubbled in a paw. And took in a breath, and ...
... blew!
And they flew!
And sailed silently to Aria's whiskers. Which she twitched, twitched! Until the bubbles either popped or dislodged themselves.
A giggle-squeak from him.
"I see how it is," the snow rabbit said. Was that a playful tone? Was it? She scooped up TWO paws of bubbles, and ...
... an eek from him, and a squeak! And he covered his muzzle with his paws, giggle-squeaking. Chittering!
As she blew bubbles at him.
And he splashed her!
A rabbit-like yip from her ... and she splashed back. The water in the tub moving up and down, back and forth. Like a warm, soapy tide. And the two of them swept away in it. Losing themselves in the play. In this release.
The water soothing them. Lulling them. Warming and cleansing them.
He giggled.
And she eye-smiled.
"You, uh ... got some bubbles on your cheek."
"Do I?" A blink.
"You do," he said.
"Displace them," she asked, tilting her head. Knowing (pretty well) what he was gonna do ...
And he leaned forward, and ... nosed her cheek. Nosing the bubbles away. Clearing a space for his ...
... kiss. Kiss to her cheek. Soft, soft kiss.
The snow rabbit's eyes went to a close. And she exhaled through her nose. Keeping her eyes closed as the kiss went to her chin. To her lower lip. To both her lips.
Until she was kissing back.
Until Ross, leaning forward in the water (which sloshed about), pressed his muzzle firmly to hers, as if trying to draw moisture. As if trying to make the kisses longer-lasting. As if ...
... holding to him. Lest she sink. Her paws on his sides.
And when the kissing spree met is respite, both of them blinked. Both of them were quiet. "I feel the need," Aria said quietly, eye-smiling, "to snuggle you senseless. Is this a side-effect of the bubbles? Or a side-effect of you?" A head-tilt. "Or both?"
"Does it matter? Does one NEED a reason to snuggle?"
"One does not. However, I've always been ... the logical sort."
"You are," he whispered, leaning forward, swallowing, and then meeting her lips again. " ... are the curious type, aren't you?"
"Mm-hmm. I ... am," she breathed, as her neck was assailed with mousey nibbles! As he nibbled on her body. "Oh," she breathed, closing her eyes. Arching her head. "Mm."
"It'd be a shame," Ross told her, "to let these bubbles all pass ... without giving them a REALLY good show. Like ... more than snuggling."
"More," she asked, with mock-obliviousness, "than snuggling?"
"Do you object?" he asked, mimicking her snowy, calm tone.
She raised a brow. "I do not."
And a smile melted onto the vole's muzzle. And he giggled. And he squeaked. It wasn't his imagination. She was really ... gaining a sense of humor. Or something. And he, in turn, was gaining a sense of calm. Some sort of peace.
Was it possible that their best attributes were rubbing off on each other?
How many forms of osmosis were in this room?
And, truthfully, did it matter? Did the answers matter?
It just ... WAS.
Feel it. Go with it. Go ...
... and kiss her again. And wrap your arms around her. Shut that mousey mind off! It's using energy needed for ... other body parts. A giggle-squeak.
"Mm?" Aria went, hearing his giggle-squeaks.
Smiling, dimples showing on his furry cheeks, nuzzling her ... he sighed, "I just love you so much. My darling." He put his forehead to hers.
She closed her eyes. And whispered back, "And I love you, as well."
"You know," Ross whispered, opening his eyes. Pulling his head back (just a bit). "You look GOOD in bubbles. Matches your ... fur," he whispered. "Could be a new fashion statement."
"Bubbles?"
"Mm-hmm." A giggle-chitter.
"I am not into fashion," she said obviously. "However ... " Her eyes sparked. "However, I shall wear them for you. If you promise to take them off me."
"Must I? Can't we yiff," he asked, giggling, "with your bubbles ON ... mm?"
A head-tilt. "Very well. Just this once."
"Aria?"
"Mm?"
"Just ... kiss me," he asked. "I'm, uh ... no more bubble-talk. Any more cute-talk, and I'll turn into a pile of bubbles myself."
"Oh ... well, I must kiss you right away, then."
"Right away," he whispered airily.
"Mm-hmm ... " The snow rabbit, with her matted, pure-white fur, leaned into the meadow mouse's muzzle. "Mm ... mm-hmm."
And they sank a bit deeper into the water. Their heads clearly above the water-line, but ... their limbs soaking. And stroking.
And all the bubbled gathering greedily to watch (before they all pop-pop-popped) the show. Oh, what a way to go!
Opal's ears flip-flapped as the door to stellar cartography swished open. She turned her head and blinked. "Herkimer."
"Hey," the mouse said quietly. Stepping inside. And the door shut. The room was dimmed. The holographic star-scape covered all the walls. And the Jersey sat at a little station in the middle of it all.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. The, uh ... mess hall was a little ... crowded," the mouse whispered, twitching a bit.
The cow blinked.
"It's ... it's fine," the mouse said, whiskers twitching. He looked around. "I should've come down here in the first place."
"Why didn't you?"
A whisker-twitch. "I didn't wanna distract you from your work."
"Honey, you wouldn't have. You know I like having you here."
"I know," he whispered.
"Sit down?" she asked, patting the seat next to her.
His tail snaked.
"Come on, baby," she whispered.
He nodded ... and went to her. And sat in the seat beside her. Still holding his pad. "I'm, uh ... I got some work, too."
"You never have off-shift work."
"I know, but ... I'm doing Lieutenant Handel's assignments. He, uh ... he's busy."
"Busy?"
"With Ensign Tess."
"Oh ... oh, 'busy," said Opal. Smiling. "Mm ... that's nice of you."
"Well, he's been real lonely." A pause. "Wanted him to feel good ... so ... it's just for tonight, though."
"Well, I still got a bit of mapping to do," Opal said, of her own tasks. "It's taking me longer than I thought. No furry ship has ever gone this way."
"Not even Luminous?"
A shake of her head. Ears flopping. And her ropy, brush-tipped tail slapping back and forth behind her chair (through the tail-hole built into the chair's back). "No ... "
"Where are we going again?"
"That egg-laying mammal ... colony," she whispered, tapping controls. "There." She nodded to their right. As a star cluster was magnified.
"Egg-laying mammals?"
"Well, the femmes lay the eggs, of course, but ... that's how we classify them. Platypuses. And echidnas ... "
"Well, why are we going?"
"You're the Ops officer." A smile. "You're in on the senior staff briefings."
"Yeah, I ... mind's been wandering today. I wasn't paying much attention."
"Honey, are you SURE nothing's wrong?"
"I'm fine." A whisker-twitch.
Opal hesitated. "Well ... we're a ship of exploration. So ... we're gonna visit, is all. PLUS, they need help repairing their colony's power nodes. They've been on the fritz."
"Yeah ... "
"But," said the cow, putting aside her work, turning in her chair, "we won't be there for a day or two, so ... and the course-work is accurate enough."
"I gotta finish this," Herkimer said, eyes on his pad.
"You can take a break, though ... right?" she asked softly. "Mm?" Her hoof-like hand went to his chin. And she lifted it. So that their eyes met.
The mouse let out a breath. "My ... my anxiety's been bad today." His nose sniffed. And whiskers twitched. "I've been afraid all day. Of little things." Pause. "Everything. I ... thought about asking Welly for a hypo, but ... I don't like to be drugged." A pause. "All mice have this problem. I mean ... should I be medicated for being a mouse?" A whisker-twitch. "I just pray about it, and ... I came to see you. You're the only one I wanna see. You're the only one I want."
"Honey ... " The Jersey leaned forward. And pulled him closer to her. Out of his seat. Into hers. The mouse was smaller, more slender than she was. She pulled him into her chair with her. And he leaned his head on her. Closing his eyes and snuggling in.
"I'm sorry. I just ... some days, I'm more mousey than others."
"You're my mouse," she assured. "EVERY day. Every day and every way ... be your mousey level at medium or ... super-high."
A small smile. "Mm ... thanks. I ... I'm sorry." A swallow.
She stroked his sides. "Mm ... we don't have to take a 'break' if you don't want to, but ... let's just sit for a bit?"
A quiet nod.
"I love you. Okay?"
A breath. "I love you, too. I really do ... Opal ... "
She hugged him. "It's okay," she whispered into one of his dishy ears. "I've got you ... "
The mouse snuggled tighter. "Mm ... how long's your work gonna take?"
"Another twenty minutes. Yours?"
"Fifteen."
"Why you asking? Mm?" A gentle, giggling prod.
A relenting, shy smile. "I ... haven't had an orgasm in eight hours. Since our yiff at lunch. I ... I'll need another soon. Um ... mm ... " The furry need to daily breed. And the heart's need for constant love. Such great needs. And to fulfill BOTH with one individual, daily, every day ... it ... was a blessing, really. A comfort ... especially when you could TRUST the fur you were with. Especially when you knew she wouldn't hurt you ...
"Same here. I was gonna paw, actually, before you came in, but ... now, I don't have to," she said happily. Perking.
He giggle-squeaked. "No," he whispered. "You won't ... "
"We better finish our work!"
"Heh ... yeah," he whispered.
And she took a breath. "I really do love you, Herkimer. You're safe, okay?" She stroked his fur. "I care about you so much ... you're special."
The mouse's eyes watered, and he ... looked this way. And that. The tears welling. He blinked, and they filtered out. "I ... um ... " A swallow. A sniffle. "Thank you," he mouthed. "I love you, too ... I ... " He went totally quiet. Picking up his computer pad. The sooner they finished their work ...
The Jersey smiled. Nodding.
Both furs in the light of the star-maps. Both furs glowing as brightly, now, as any of those stars.
For love made such a lovely light.