Fixers
It was late-morning.
"Flux coupler."
Olivia fished about the toolkit, her bobtail flicking. The filled water bottle attached to her belt sloshing a bit. "Why a 'flux' coupler?"
"I need to synchronize the power flow," was all Alabaster said. On his back. Half-hidden. His bent knees were visible, and his bare foot-paws. He was repairing the interior of the main engineering console. Ever since the final wasp attack, it had been 'on the fritz,' its luminosity flickering and its touch-sensitive controls becoming only partially-responsive. The snow rabbit repair teams had yet to get to it. They were focused on fixing the ship's hull and internal structures, first. Secondary computer systems were to be saved for last. But Alabaster hadn't wanted to wait. So, he was fixing the main console himself.
His wife knelt down, extending the coupler into the mouth of the access tube. "Why not crawl over to the junction? The power stems from there. Fix it from the source."
"The power flow is not interrupted until it reaches ths point. The repairs need to be done here." He took the coupler. Running it over the bio-neural circuits.
"Do you know anything about repairing computers?"
A pause. "I am the chief engineer," was his plain response.
"I am aware of that," she said. "However, I have come to find that, as good as you are at using and running technology ... you are not so good at fixing it."
"I have fixed many things in the past."
"Yes. Unfortunately, they normally break again ... after a few times of use."
Alabaster, at that, squirmed out of the mouth of the access tube (which was big enough for a fur to crawl through, though you better not be claustrophobic; all the tubes had, at intervals, junctions, which were small 'room-like' spaces where key systems could be directly repaired and accessed). And his eyes met those of his wife's. "They break?"
A helpless, little eye-smile. "That is their tendency, yes."
"Are you saying I cannot repair my own systems?"
"I'm saying that you are a tinkerer, a thinker, a doer, a user ... but you are not a fixer."
"I am not a 'fixer'?"
"That is what I said." Her eye-smile was more pronounced. She was enjoying this. To any passing 'warm-blood' fur, it would've looked like a veiled argument. But they were, in actuality, engaged in heavy 'teasing.'
"Well, Lieutenant, as I am not a 'fixer,' perhaps you are? Perhaps you would like to repair the power flow?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps I shall order you to do so."
"You shall?"
"Perhaps we shall see who is better at being a 'fixer'."
Her eye-smile held, and got a bit brighter, even.
"I order you to come down here," Alabaster said, "and help me in my repairs."
"There is no room for two furs in the mouth of the access tube," she pointed out.
"Then I guess we shall have to crawl, single-file, to the nearest junction. And coordinate our repairs from there," he said.
"That seems logical," she stated, crouching down. "You first," she stated, her eye-smile still there, as if ever-present.
And Alabaster eye-smiled back, waggling his ears at her. And, putting the flux coupler in his muzzle, he began crawling into the access tube. His bare paws moving his body forward. His knees shuffling.
And Olivia crawled in after him, her antennae-ears brushing the tope of the tube. And her eyes fixating on his rump, which was a few feet ahead of her. And how it swayed with his crawling, and how his hips moved, and how his puffy, fluffy bobtail flicker-flicked at her, as if inviting her forward.
When they reached the junction, Alabaster swung his legs out. And lowered himself to the floor. And stretched a bit, at a full stand, eying the other tubes that led here. And he, only somewhat discreetly, peered down each of the tubes. And put the flux coupler aside.
Olivia, internally amused, asked, "Are they unoccupied?"
"I do not believe," Alabaster said, "that ... that we will be disturbed."
"That is good enough," Olivia answered, "for me." Her arms were already around her husband's neck. And her lips were on his soft, snowy-white cheek. She mouthed at his fur for a bit, and then went to his neck, her whiskers bumping against his own. And she sighed out, whispering, "I do so love ... systems ... repairs." Panting, now, and unbuttoning and unzipping his uniform.
He reciprocated. Simultaneously undressing her. "Yes, I ... I do find," he breathed, "that such activities are ... " A swallow. His arms swinging back a bit. Letting his shirt slide off, in a little crumple to the floor. " ... are very invigorating."
"Mm," was the femme snow rabbit's response, flinging her own shirt aside.
Alabaster undid her bra, and peeled it off, letting her supple, snowy-white breasts hang, loosely. And his paws were all over them, kneading the flesh, cupping them. Thumbing them. And then his paw-pads running all over, as if working clay on a potter's wheel. He swallowed heavily, his pupils dilating.
"We must concentrate," Olivia told him, somewhat absent-mindedly, "on the ... the repairs ... " She was undoing his pants.
"We ... we must," Alabaster agreed. Oh, we must. Oh, yes, repairs. "I think we must remedy, however, the ... the breeding deficiency that, uh ... "
She pulled his pants down. His briefs with them.
He fumbled at her pants, now, almost bumbling.
Her hips swayed, swayed. And her panties tugged down, leaving nothing but bare, soft fur, and the outlines of her body, and her shape. And, oh, repairs? She is repairing my mind. I am obviously insane for her, Alabaster thought. And she is simply going to repair my insanity, which can only be repaired, he reasoned, through lovemaking. It was all quite simple, really. And, panting, he told her so.
"I agree," Olivia said, nodding, nodding, kicking the rest of her clothes away with her strong rabbit legs. "I agree. That is a ... that is a most logical," she panted, "thought process." Her paws were running up and down his bare, furry sides.
He arched a bit. His arms slipping around her back, and he pulled her closer, so that they were belly-to-belly, so that her breasts squished up against his chest. So that he could nibble on her neck.
And so that she could tilt her head, close her eyes, and let loose a needy, mewing sigh.
And Alabaster paused, panting, saying, "We shall need water. I ... I did not bring a water bottle." He twitched anxiously. They would need water.
Olivia nodded quietly, kneeling down, detaching her water bottle from her belt. She held it up to him. "I brought one."
A sigh of relief. And a lip-licking nod. He took the bottle and set it aside, in an access tube opening, easily within reach. "You are always prepared, lieutenant, for every ... eventuality," Alabaster breathed, shuffling on his foot-paws, swaying about with her. Exchanging and stealing moist lip-kisses. The little smack-smack sounds magnified in this small, metallic space.
"It has been five hours since we ... last bred," she breathed, arching a bit. Snow rabbits, being rabbits, being doubly-virile, had to breed three/four times a day. They often found ways to work that 'obligation' into their work schedules. And, being that most of the engineering staff consisted of snow rabbits, the entire engineering department, quite often, had the scent of 'love.' And if you heard stray love-sounds, you allowed them.
The rest of the staff on duty must've known what Alabaster and Olivia had crawled in here to do. But, then, with the two senior officers being absent, they had probably taken a 'break' from their own duties to do the same thing.
So, no harm caused. Pay no attention to the rabbit-lovers in the junction. They're just doing their thing.
His paws went over her lower back, so tenderly, so lovingly. Caressing her bare, furry body, his blunted claws scratching through the fur.
"We, uh ... I anticipated we would be having sex in engineering. I had ... " A swallow. Her rump-cheeks gripped. She rose up on the tips of her foot-paws, eyes closing. "I had thought we would be doing this during our lunch break, on ... on the second level," she said, referring to their favorite spot for 'work-sex.' "However ... " She lowered back down to the pads of her foot-paws, grinding her hips against her husband's. Gripping his own rump. Pulling at his body, and almost giving tiny, little purrs. She sucked on his cheek, and then his chin, and then their lips were hovering, again, next to each other. Touching, brushing. "However, you ... your overture to join you for 'repairs' in the junction here, it ... was too much," she sighed, "to pass up."
"I was in too much need," he confessed, arms wrapped around her body, possessively, tenderly, hugging her, soaking her warmth. And her scent. Oh, he breathed deeply. "I was in too much need to wait," he managed, and he shuffled a bit awkwardly with her, trying to pin her to the wall of the junction.
She shuffled with him, her bobtail flickering with unbridled excitement, and her ears waggling. Her back to the cool metal of the wall. She gave a shiver, but a delightful one. For she loved the cool sensation against her fur. She was, after all, from the ice. Chills did not phase her. But the warmth of her body soon warmed the wall. Oh, the heat she was giving off.
And the heated look of his icy-blue eyes as he drank in the bare, beautiful body of his wife. His love. His want and his need.
Olivia panted out, licking her dry lips, swallowing, waiting. Her breasts hanging.
And his paws went for them. Her breasts. He cupped them, held them gingerly, and then tilted his muzzle and went in for a kiss. Lips-to-lips, eyes closing, noses flaring, and whiskers brushing. An every-motion kind of kiss, the kind that flung stimuli to your farthest and most foreign of nerves. Oh, it made you tingle.
The kiss was broken, and they both struggled for breath, their fur already starting to get a bit damp with light sweat.
Alabaster, swallowing, reached for the water bottle. And gave it to her. Male snow rabbits always allowed the femmes to drink first. It was unthinkable for the male to take the first drink. It just didn't happen. Not unless you had no sense of decency.
Olivia gulped several gulps of water, and then sighed heavily, handing him the bottle. And Alabaster, too, gulped his share, but they left more than enough for later. They would need it later.
Putting the bottle back, Alabaster's paws kneaded Olivia's breasts, and then slid down her belly, and then between her legs.
Her whiskers quivered with anticipation.
He slipped his paws between her thighs, around the backs ... and, with a needy quiet, he whispered, "Lift."
She understood. And lifted her leg.
And he hooked one arm around it, a paw under her thigh. Holding that leg up. Her back to the wall, still, her bobtail flicking absently, only half-seen. And Alabaster hooked his other arm around her other leg, and brought that one up, too. So that her foot-paws were no longer on the ground. So that he was standing. And she, her back to the wall, had her legs open and spread. And she wrapped those legs as tightly as she could around his middle, around his backside. And snow rabbits having strong legs and foot-paws, built for sprinting and endurance, it did not strain her to stay in this position.
And his paws went to her rump-cheeks, holding up her lower weight.
With a free paw, she fiddled with her husband's sheath. It was bulging, and the pink tip of his rabbit-hood was poking out, but she wanted more, needed more, draw more out. Her finger poking into the sheath's opening.
Alabaster gave a sensitive mew. A too-sensitive mew.
Olivia, moving her paw to a full grip of his emerging member, pawed, pawed. Pawed him to a more erect state.
He swallowed, his knees trembling a bit, letting it happen. Needing it to happen. This is what was supposed to happen.
It didn't take more than a minute to get him ready. To ensure he was stiff enough to properly penetrate her.
And her paw went back around his neck. All her limbs holding to his body, and her back to the wall, still, and he fumbled to get inside her. And missed. And mewed pitifully. He hated when that happened.
"It is ... alright," she assured, tending to his male ego. She understood his organ hadn't a homing beacon attached to it. And, with limbs and paws otherwise occupied, a missed entry or two was to be expected. "Try ... "
He was already trying again. Closer, this time, the head of his rabbit-hood working between her folds, smearing a string of pre against her pink, sensitive, fur-less feminine flesh. And moving down. He moved his hips strategically, licking his lips, nodding weakly, and he kept squirming his hips. Until he thought he felt the opening. And, yes, yes, yes, that was it, and push your hips forward, and ...
" ... oh," Olivia breathed, catching her breath. Feeling him slip in. Steadily, wholly. Inch by inch, right into her muscular, moist tunnel.
Alabaster eye-smiled proudly at his success, his eyes half-open, and his confidence fully in gear, he pulled slightly back. Paused. And pushed slightly forward. Beginning, as he always did, with soft, soft motions. And picking up pace as he went. Getting slightly faster. Getting her wetter. Getting himself stiffer, more sensitive.
Making everything to be more.
More.
Their hip-grinding, male-and-femme push-and-pull, give-and-take, it proceeded with a smooth, searing pleasure. A wet kind of heated, bodily pleasure, one that just soaked to the bone. One that made you sigh and moan.
Paws held to fur. Paws clutched.
His leg muscles tensed. His knees wobbled.
Her ears waggled, and then doubled over, drooping forward from the heat. But, oh, so sensitive, those ears, gorged with blood as they were, picking up every sound, every breath. Everything.
The male snow rabbit doing his best to stimulate her. He, himself, being fully stimulated, but he never forgot about her. Doing his best to hilt with every forward motion. Doing his best to grind, to gyrate his hips, to brush her walls in a full, satisfying way. He went slow enough to stave off his own orgasm, but it was getting harder and harder to hold back, and he found his rhythm increasing. Visibly, noticeably increasing.
Olivia held on, feeling her body rocking against the wall, her breath coming out in huffs, now, and her breasts jiggling against his unsteady chest. Her nipples hard and getting brushed over by his chest-fur. A very delightful, airy sensation. So many delightful sensations, and done with such pure passion, such committed need and want, and though they weren't able to express it like other species did, with such love.
They were in love, and it was evident in their motions.
The tenderness of their motions.
The aim of their motions.
Motions.
One of her paws retreating from around his neck, going down. She needed attention to her clitoris. More than his hips could give.
He increased his hold on her, his breathing erratic. Eyes darting downward, watching her fumble and tap at her peeking-out, feminine nub. Watching his thick, slick flesh, his male essence, being swallowed into her feminine essence. Oh, what kind of friction was this? God-built, glove-fitting friction, perfect and sensible, and so, so good.
It was too much to comprehend.
Comprehend it later, Alabaster told himself.
Now, just do it.
She continued rubbing herself. Continued holding on. Continued heaving.
And his sac, swelling, tightening, drawing so much closer to his body, it lightly slapped against her folds with each inward hump. For his motions were sufficiently fast enough to be considered humping, now.
She began to mew. Her breath trembling.
And he shivered, and shivered. So hotly. And his motions began to break down, becoming very unstable. The male body unable to maintain control in those final seconds. And he had to hilt and just press into her, and had to moan out. Into the fur of her neck, he moaned and huffed, a rabbit-bark welling in his throat. He barked. His body surging with electrical pleasure, each ejaculation like a lightning bolt, jolting him. Bark! Twitch, twitch. He sowed her, naturally, fully. Jets of his semen pelting her cervix, flooding her.
And she took it. Her vaginal walls quaking, trembling, and finally letting loose in mind-blowing flitter-flutters, little spasms that gripped her lower half. That incited her to mew out, mew, mew, with pleasured passion, moaning and sighing, trembling at the sheer force of what was happening, at what had just been rendered. She clung to her love. For dear life, she clung, her femininity squeezing, milking his rabbit-hood, wanting all that seed. She was not in heat, but her body didn't care. It simply had to have it.
And he had no choice but to give it. Every last drop.
They panted and rabbit-mewed in a heated, naked daze, bodies pressed together, the wet squelching of their union having died down. For their hips were still. Still joined, but unmoving. His need to sow her having been sated. And her need to be sown, it had been sated, as well.
Satisfied.
So satisfying. They stayed together, their breaths recovering, his organ still buried inside of her, shrinking a little bit, now, but he loved that wet, squishy feeling of her searing heat, and her body. He shivered with sensitive pleasure. He was loathe to pull out.
She swallowed, arms around his neck, and her nose on his shoulder. She breathed of his familiar, strong scent. And just reveled in the afterglow of the moment. Feeling little trickles of her juices dripping steadily from her. Down his shaft, to the fur of his sac, where it got soaked up. Or to the floor in little pat-pat sounds. And his juices, his semen, thicker than her own release, dripped, too, from the spot of their union.
"Oh," Alabaster breathed, and he slowly, slowly, sank down. To his knees. Taking her with him, and then slowly withdrawing from her body, his limp cock flopping to the side. "Oh." He set her down on her rump, and leaning in to steal a muzzle-kiss. A deep, tilted muzzle-kiss, one of gratitude and love.
And her eyes squeezed shut. And her nose flared. Their whiskers brushed.
And he pulled away, eyes half-open.
Her eyes, too, barely-open. But still meeting his own.
"That was ... " He licked his dry lips, dehydrated, reaching unsteadily for the water bottle. And handing it to her. "That was beautiful," he managed. "As ... as you, yourself," he breathed, "are."
She was gulping, sucking water from the nipple of the bottle, and her cheeks were flushed. Gulp, gulp. Pause. Breathe. Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Stop. And sighing heavily, she cleared her throat. "Thank you," she finally said. "I ... I love you," she said, very quietly. She extended the water bottle to him, giving him the remainder of the water.
"I love you," he breathed, putting the nipple of the bottle into his muzzle, "too ... " Gulp, gulp. Pause. Breathe. Gulp. Gulp. And a heavy sigh from him, as well, as he tossed the empty bottle aside. It clattered harmlessly before rolling to a stop.
"I found that," she said, more coherently, "very satisfying."
"As did I." He eye-smiled, on his knees and his shins. The heels of his foot-paws resting into his rump-cheeks.
She, still sitting against the wall, knees bent, nodded. Eye-smiling back at him. "We must clean up and shower in one of the bathrooms."
"Yes," he agreed, feeling very, very good. Oh, he this would tide him over, indeed. For another six/seven hours, anyway. Oh, to be a snow rabbit. Emotional freezes, yes. Some would call that a disadvantage. He knew better. And he knew, as well, how much he loved her, and how breeding with her was a true spiritual union.
"You, uh ... never repaired the main console," she said, eye-smiling, teasing him.
"I shall leave that to S-7's repair teams."
Her eye-smile made her eyes glow, seemingly, now. "A wise decision. You are not a fixer, darling."
"I fixed our needs, didn't I?"
"I believe our needs will break down again in ... another seven hours. As I said, you are not a fixer."
"I do not believe this is something," he said, eye-smiling himself, his nose hovering next to hers, sniffing, sniffing. "I do not believe this is something we wish to fix ... do you?"
She shook her head lightly. "No. No, I do enjoy ... our constant attempts to repair ... that which needs no fixing. I ... "
He stole her breath with a last, lingering kiss.
Before they dressed, cleaned up, and crawled back into the access tubes, headed for the nearest bathroom. Headed for the shower.
"Who are you?" the little snow rabbit asked.
"I'm Arianna." An eye-smile from her, and she crouched down in order to meet him at more of an eye-level. "You are Sheridan, correct?"
"Yes."
"What are you playing with?" she asked gently, looking at the little rabbit's toys.
"Ships," was all he said. "Ships and stuffed furs." He was holding one of the plush, stuffed furs. It was a snow rabbit plush. And his toy ships were in a little pile on the carpeted floor.
"When I was little, I used to sleep with a plush. It looked similar to yours."
"Mm." Sheridan's whiskers waggled. "Are you a friend of Ollie's, then?" He eyed her, and then looked to Ollie. The white-furred mouse was standing a few feet away. "I met Ollie before."
"He's my husband," she told him, and she drew a breath. "He tells me you have no mother or father."
Sheridan remained quiet.
"You are an orphan?"
A whisker-twitch. And the little rabbit squirmed. "I'm seven years and eight months old," was all he said.
A gentle eye-smile. "You are a growing boy," she said, nodding.
"How old are you?" he demanded.
"I am twenty-two."
"That's really old."
A continued eye-smile. A head-tilt. "I will take that as a compliment."
They were on the station, S-7, in a classroom-like space. There were toys, desks, chairs, and learning screens. The other children were on their lunch break. One of the teachers was lingering behind Ollie, and there was another adult snow rabbit, too. An officer from the station. The officer who had been charged with overseeing the welfare of the orphaned rabbits.
"Sheridan, Ollie and I ... we are trying very hard to have a baby."
"Breeding?" Sheridan asked.
"Yes, breeding. But it's very hard for mouses and rabbits to reproduce. Some can. And some can't. My Captain and her husband," Arianna explained, "were able to. But Ollie and I have been trying for months, and we are not having the same success."
Sheridan didn't understand.
"We are going to keep trying. And we pray that the Lord will bless us with a child of our own someday, but ... we were very sorry to hear about your family. We want children so badly. And we would be honored to adopt you."
"Adopt?"
"You would live with us," Ollie said. "On our ship."
"You have a ship?"
"We serve aboard the Arctic," Arianna explained, gently. In her snow rabbit demeanor. Still at a crouch, and still near the little rabbit's eye level.
"I ... I would live with you?" Sheridan asked, clutching at his plush rabbit. His ears waggled a tiny bit.
"We could never replace your mother and father. I know how much you must've loved them. But ... we could BE a mother and a father to you. We could be a family. We could love you like our own fur and blood. We could take care of you," Arianna said, her voice soft, calm. "We could give you a home."
"Would you like that?" Ollie asked, his whiskers twitching. Afraid, maybe, that the little snow rabbit would say no. The officer in charge of overseeing the orphaned children had been very receptive to Ollie and Arianna adopting one of them. And, ultimately, Sheridan didn't really have a choice in the matter. But, all the same, Ollie wanted Sheridan to WANT to be adopted. He didn't want to drag him, kicking and screaming, back to Arctic.
Sheridan considered. "I would live with you?" he said again, asking Ollie.
The mouse nodded. "Mm-hmm. We have a very nice ship, and we're gonna go to lots of places when we get it fixed." The only downside, really, was that Sheridan would have no peers aboard the ship. No children his age. The only other child was Sterling, and he was a newborn. But, still, Sheridan had shown he had a keen interest in talking with adults. And there was always the simulation rooms, and there was plenty of stuff to do, anyway, on a star-ship.
The little snow rabbit looked to the floor, his eyes darting. And he looked back up. "Okay," he said.
Ollie's muzzle melted into a beaming smile.
Arianna, too, still eye-smiling, and telling him, "Do you have anything you need to pack?"
"You mean, I get to go right now?"
A little nod. "Mm-hmm. We just have to sign some things and talk with the officer and teacher here," she said. "I will go and do that. Ollie will stay with you until I come back, okay?"
"Okay," Sheridan said, his eyes wide and curious.
So Aria raised up, and slowly filtered away, going to the other side of the room with the snow rabbit officer, as well as the teacher.
And Ollie lingered, and then got down to his knees, picking up one of the toy ships. "Where'd you get these?"
"They replicated them for us. They're not mine. They're supposed to stay in the room."
"Oh." A little nod. "Is the plush yours?"
"Yeah ... he still smells like how my mother used to smell. I like to keep my nose on him. When I sleep," Sheridan explained.
The mouse's eyes watered a bit, and he nodded very quietly, very lightly. "Well, we ... we hope you could come to love us, uh, as parents. We're gonna take really good care of you, okay?"
"Your eyes are shiny again ... "
"I know," Ollie said.
And Sheridan fiddled with the toy ships, saying, "I think you're nice."
Ollie smiled, his whiskers twitching.
"Are there other kids on your ship?"
"Well ... only one. And ... not any your age," Ollie explained, "but there's plenty to do. I'll show you everything. You'll really like it."
"So, you're gonna be my dad, now?"
"Yes." The mouse nodded brightly. He put the toy ship down.
"Do I call you dad?"
"Well ... when you feel like you wanna call me dad, you can start calling me dad. And I hope you'll wanna. But ... you don't have to call me that yet if you don't want to, okay? For right now, you can just call me Ollie."
"Mm ... okay," Sheridan said. "What about her?"
"Arianna?"
"Do I call her mom?"
"Well, same thing. When you feel you want to ... then you can. Okay?"
A quiet, distracted nod. His ears waggled. "Okay," he whispered. "Ollie ... "
"Yes?"
"Will I have any brothers or sisters?"
"I hope so ... we ... we're gonna," he said, "try. We've prayed very hard."
"I never had any."
The mouse nodded. "I know," he whispered.
And Sheridan looked up. And eye-smiled. "You're nice," he repeated again.
And Ollie beamed. "Thank you," he whispered. "So are you."
"Do you like to play games?"
"Course," Ollie said.
"Can you teach me new games? All I know is predators and prey."
"I can teach you lots of games," Ollie assured, feeling a swell of happiness and purpose. And sighing softly. Thanking the Lord for his this child. For the unseen opportunities that present themselves, daily, to be able to fix other lives with something so seemingly simple as love.