FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"It's your week to do the dishes," Petra called from the kitchen. "Don't think I'm gonna do 'em just cause they're pilin' up! I've already started the laundry and I'm going to the store. I'm not bleedin' Cinderella, you know. Even if I am friends with a mouse ... "

No response.

"Juniper!" the brown rat snapped.

Still nothing.

Except for wacky sound effects ...

Petra poked her head into the living room, scowling at the weasel on the couch. "Hey, eggface. Did ya hear me?"

Not looking away from the TV screen, the slender weasel, holding a Switch controller tightly in her paws, tilted her body this way and that to go along with the game action. "Gotta dish out justice first."

"Thought you beat that game already."

"This is New Game Plus."

"What the hell does that even mean?" the rat asked. "Nerd."

"Hey, you're the one sleeping with me."

"Only cause you're good at sex," the rat accused.

"Don't hate me cause I'm gifted," Juniper said, giving a glamorous head-toss.

"Those dishes better be done when I get back."

"Uh-huh."

Petra moved on, cutting through the living room to the other side of the house.

Their home had two bedrooms. One belonged to Juniper. Petra shared the other, and a bed, with Eagan, a male chipmunk. The three of them were in a polyamorous union. There was a pair of rabbits in their orbit, too, but they lived a dozen miles away.

Petra opened her bedroom door and stuck her head inside. Eagan was at their desk, tapping away at his laptop.

"Watcha doin'?" the rat demanded.

"Working," the chipmunk said, not looking up. Eagan did 'website stuff.' That's how he described it to people who weren't tech-heads, which included Petra.

"I'm goin' to the store," Petra mentioned. "Want anything?"

"The store?!" the chimpunk asked with exaggerated excitement, bounding out of his chair. His brushy tail flipped up and down.

"God dammit," Petra said quietly, knowing what was coming.

"Dooon't cryyyy," Eagan sang in a high-pitched tone, making a fist of his tawny-furred paw and pretending it was a microphone. "I can't play preteeennd. Wake up there next to yoooouu, but I wish I was next to hiiiiiim!"

The rat sighed, squinting her dark eyes.

"Loooooks liiike this could be the eeeend, but I'm not that good at goooodbyes ... "

She crossed her arms, waiting.

"So, I'm just goin' to the store, to the store!" Eagan proclaimed loudly as he reached the chorus, dancing in place. Chipmunks were naturally energetic. He could do this all day. "You may not see me anymore, anymore! I'm just goin' to the store!"

"You finished?" Petra asked blankly.

Eagen harrumphed and sat back down. "I can't believe I'm intimate with someone who doesn't appreciate Carly Rae ... "

"Life's full of disappointments. You'll live."

"Barely."

"Besides, pop's only good if it's from the--"

"70's or 80's." Eagan flashed her a smile. "You're so old school!"

"Don't give me that look," the rat said.

"And what look is that?"

"I don't know ... but it's something mushy."

"You know you love me," Eagan declared with a broad smile. "Say it! Go on. I won't tell."

"Liar. You told Juniper the last time I said it to you. She wouldn't let me forget it."

"She gnawed it out of me! Weasels have really sharp teeth ... "

Petra just repeated, "Do you want anything or not?"

"Hmm. Well, we need toothpaste."

"Yup."

"And rust remover," Eagan added.

"What about food?"

"Sourdough pretzels? The big, crunchy kind."

"I know the ones."

"Sunflower seeds," Eagan said. "Almond butter. Whole wheat bread. Oh, soup! We could use some soup. Carrot ginger. Or split pea. I want both!" His whiskers twitched. "You aren't writing any of this down ... "

"I'll remember."

"No, you won't."

Petra shrugged.

The other rodent blinked. "You usually go shopping at night. It's more crowded in the daytime." The rat didn't have any patience for crowds.

"Gotta stock up before this alleged 'blizzard' tonight, don't I? Snowmageddon '21. Else all the bread, eggs, and milk will be gone and we won't be able to survive on French toast." The news had spared nothing in hyping it up, which meant it would probably underwhelm. "Besides, Meadow needs to go, too. You know how mice are. All pitiful and flustered."

"And cute," Eagan added, turning back to his computer.

"Gotta be her bodyguard."

"Don't make it sound like you don't enjoy it."

Petra considered. "I'd bring her into our circle ... but she's in too deep with Fibster. My fault, really." The rat had nudged the two of them into going out. How was she supposed to know it would stick?

"She doesn't seem the poly type, anyway. You have enough lovers. It's good to have a friend!" Eagan assured.

"Spoken like someone who actually gets along with people," the rat remarked as she turned and left.

Petra parked her car in Meadow's gravel driveway and honked the horn.

The front door of the house opened. A golden head appeared, a toboggan cap situated between two big ears. Then the mouse vanished from view. Half-a-minute later, Meadow reemerged with her purse over her shoulder. She locked her door and scurried to the passenger side of Petra's car, her long, ropy tail appearing a bright sky blue. It was covered from base to tip with a thermal tail-sock, meant to protect furless tails from frostbite.

The harvest mouse got in and closed the door, putting on her seatbelt. "Brr!" She put her purse in her lap.

"Got enough layers on there?" Petra asked.

"Just three or four."

"Or?"

"Depends if you count underwear as a layer."

"Maybe half."

"Fib said it's gonna snow later," Meadow said, of her boyfriend. Fib was a weatherman for a local TV station. "Well, tonight, anyway."

"I know," the rat replied.

"You're not wearing the tail-sock I got you," Meadow noticed.

"Wasn't feeling optimistic enough to rock any bright colors today." Petra put her car in reverse and began pulling out of the driveway. The tail-sock she had on was a hypnotic black and white spiral design. Once on the road, the rat quickly zipped up to speed. "Besides, you're not wearing the mask I gave you," she said, of the face covering Meadow was taking out of her purse to put on.

Though vaccinations had started, mask mandates were still in effect. The virus was still out there, and neither of them had been able to get their shots yet. Fib claimed everyone at his station was going to get them soon, in the next week, as they provided a 'vital community service.' All the on-air talent was going to get them on live television to 'build public trust.'

Meadow, distracted by how fast Petra was going, said, "Slow down! Speed limit's 40."

"Like there's any cops out in these parts?"

"There might be ice," Meadow said.

Petra sighed and slowed a little, to at least five miles per hour of the posted limit.

"Anyway," Meadow continued, "the mask you gave me had a snarling expression on it. I can't wear something like that!"

The rat side-eyed the mouse. "How come?"

"Because."

"But you can wear ... what are those? Flowers?"

"Fruit blossoms."

"You're so feminine," Petra teased.

"What's that on yours?" Meadow countered.

"Album art. It's only 'Terrorize'." When Meadow didn't respond, the rat added, "A-86's defining record? One of the best debuts in music history?" Petra skipped a beat and said, "Apocalypse-86?"

Unimpressed, Meadow just said, "That rat looks rage-y."

"Hell, yeah!" Petra said. "That's the point." She bobbed her head and mouthed some unintelligible lyrics. "Terror Eyes. Now, there's a fucking classic. And it's a pun, too. Mice like puns."

"I guess ... "

Petra began to slap her paws on the steering wheel, humming and grunting the tune. She stopped to say, "Just be glad I didn't wear my 'Fear' mask. That one's got a provocative cover. With the rat boy and the cops taking aim at him? Sister Activate Holds the Fire. Probably my favorite song of theirs."

"Sounds charming."

"Eagan doesn't get it, either. He likes the kind of stuff you like." The rat sighed. "No one likes what I like ... "

"That's not true."

"Excluding sex," Petra added.

"Oh. Well." The mouse's whiskers twitched. "Maybe you're drawn to opposites?"

"No. I'm just ... different," Petra decided with a frown.

"You're unique!"

The rat tilted her head. "Fine, we'll go with that."

"You have 'rattitude'!" Meadow continued brightly.

Petra made a 'gag' face. "Alright, calm down. Don't say things like that when we're shopping. You'll damage my reputation."

Baxter, in the shadowed wings of the set, wasn't on for another fifteen minutes. But instead of brushing up for his 8:50 sports segment, his final of the morning and last until the midday newscast, the river otter found himself zoning out and watching the on-air content.

"People are coming hungry to Monument Circle today," said a doe. The deer kind. Belle. She was outside, on location, a mile or so away. Dressed in a big, fluffy jacket, with a woolen cap on her head.

"It's a downtown tradition dating back more than _fifty_years. Six tons of holiday cakes and cookies have been served this week, and today's your final chance to get some." Belle's hooves could be heard clacking on brick as she stepped toward a masked guess, holding her microphone at arm's length. "What goodies do you have left?"

"If you can name it, we still have it," said a middle-aged male bobcat. "Cupcakes. Vanilla, peppermint, chocolate. Sugar cookies, peanut butter blossoms, chocolate chip, white chocolate macadamia." The camera panned to a row of food trucks.

"Were sales down this year because of the pandemic?" Belle asked.

"Yes, unfortunately. But we know everyone has been affected. It's not just us. We'll bounce back next year!"

"And these aren't generic, dollar store goods, right? They're all fresh and homemade."

"That's correct."

"And what happens to the money you raise?"

"Seventy-five percent of it is donated to charities and people in need. The other twenty-five pays for the supplies and ingredients and our staffing for the week. This is really a community service," the bobcat declared.

"And how long will you be open?"

"It's been all this week and, as you said, today is our last day. 'Til sunset. Then we'll close up shop and donate the leftovers to the food pantry."

Belle looked straight into the camera and smiled brightly. "Well, there you have it! Now, I've got to enjoy some cookies before they crumble. Back to you in the studio!"

"Thank you, Belle," Opal the Jersey cow said.

"Yum-yum!" her co-anchor, JR, a coyote, chimed in. Then he put on his serious face and segued to, "Before we get to the weather, last night on the east side ... "

Baxter tuned the coyote out, turning away and blowing out a loud breath.

"What's wrong with you?" Fib the 'weathermouse' asked. He was on after the next commercial break. "Aside from the usual."

"Nothing," Baxter said. Why did Fib always have to stick his twitchy nose in everything? Mice were sneaky like that. Those big ears. They heard everything, and because they were so quiet they were involved before you realized it.

The mouse and otter had been rivals ever since they'd started working together. With opposite personalities, they'd had a tendency to butt heads. But relations had been thawing of late. They were more like 'frenemies,' now. Is that the right term? Maybe it was just acclimation. Or maybe they really were starting to like and respect each other? Yeah, right.

The director yelled, "And we're at break! Two minutes!"

"That used to be Dotty's segment," the golden harvest mouse told Baxter, of Belle's remote. "Are you pining again?"

"Did I say that?" Baxter asked, voice tinged with annoyance.

"She's been gone for a month," Fib said of the sprightly chipmunk. She'd covered 'destinations and local events.' Fluff pieces. She'd been trying to get into the Chicago market for a while and had finally made it. "I've been to Chicago. It's not that great."

"It has what Indy has times three," Baxter pointed out.

"Then why don't you move there, too?"

"I don't want to live in a metropolis."

Fib picked up a tablet and rechecked the latest NWS bulletin. 'Icy Cold Snap! Storm Chances Highly Likely!'

"Why should I still care, anyway?" Baxter continued, trying (and failing) to sound nonchalant.

"About?" Fib asked distractedly.

Baxter made a face. "Dotty." He swiped at his whiskers. "Not like she and I were ever officially together ... "

"Hah! Sure, you weren't." Fib put the tablet down and started counting with his fingers. "Except those times in the breakroom, the editing bay, the conference--"

"Why don't you say that a little louder?" Baxter scolded.

Fib shrugged. "Figured everyone already knew."

"Don't you have those memorized yet?" Baxter said, looking at Fib's array of multi-colored weather maps.

"It's a bit harder than reading along to video clips. There's actual science involved."

"I could predict the weather better than you could play sports."

Fib ignored him, or tried to.

'Hmm, it's January'," Baxter said, speaking in a higher-pitched voice to mimic Fib. "I bet it'll be cold tomorrow. Also, clouds. That's my golden guarantee!' See? Now, let's see you hit a baseball or catch a football."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Fib said, getting the 'thirty seconds to air' shout out from the news director.

"I sleep just fine," Baxter lied. The truth was, he hated being alone. Otters were playful and sociable by nature. "Dotty wasn't the only fish in the sea. Just need to put myself back out there." He nodded, puffing himself up. "I need a rebound!"

As Fib brushed past him and onto the set, the mouse grinned and said, "You miss enough shots to get one."

Baxter rolled his eyes.

"Pistachios, apples, carrots ... celery?" Petra rummaged through Meadow's shopping cart. "You eat like a mouse," the brown rat accused, making a face.

"I am a mouse." Meadow swatted at Petra's paw with her prehensile tail. Her tail-sock was still on, even while shopping. "And you saw me put all this stuff in here. Why are you so surprised?"

"Guess it was so boring I blocked it out. We gotta get you some hearty rat food."

"Like what?" Meadow asked innocently.

Petra steered her cart down the frozen food aisle.

Meadow followed with hers. She blinked. "Frozen pizza?"

"Now, as a connoisseur, I'll tell you that Newman's Own and California Pizza Kitchen?" The rat mimed a chef's kiss. "Top of the line. We'll call those 'prestige' pizzas."

"Okay ... "

"They're the best, but ... they're kinda thin, so not very filling. You'll end up eating more. If you wanna feel full, and I mean_really_ full, you gotta go for Freschetta or DiGiornro. Thick, loaded with toppings. Mid-tier in quality and price. Respectable but not puttin' on the ritz. Now, finally, on the low end, you got Jack's and Tombstone. Oh, and Red Baron." The rat shrugged. "Guilty pleasures if you're on a strict budget, but not pizzas you wanna admit you ate."

Meadow shook her head, not sure if the rat's knowledge was impressive or scary. "I had no idea it was this complicated."

"Good thing I'm here to teach you, then," the rat said, opening a freezer door. Her dark eyes darted up and down. "Think I'll go for a medley. Never know what kind of mood I'll be in these days." She got four different brands, putting two in her cart and two in Meadow's.

"What are you ... I don't ... I can't eat all this!" Meadow said. "Don't they have small ones?"

"You mean six-inchers?" The rat scoffed. "Amateur hour! Full-footers or get out."

Meadow's whiskers twitched behind her mask.

"Besides, they're not for you, they're for me," Petra announced.

"So, why are you putting them in my cart?"

"Cause they're on sale, but they're limiting customers to two per transaction, see? Now, if I get two and you get two and give yours to me? I have four. Four frozen pizzas! That'll last me at least a week." The rat tapped the side of her head. "Gamin' the system." She tapped the side of her head to indicate how smart she was.

"Clearly, I'm naïve to how the world works."

"Don't worry, girly. I'll still keep you around."

"You're not going to eat all these yourself ... "

"Juniper and Eagan will help," Petra assured.

"I guess that's slightly better ... "

"It's cute how even your guilt trips are passive-aggressive."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Meadow said passive-aggressively.

A half-hour before the midday newscast, Baxter was eating lunch in the sports wing of the news department. A tuna sandwich and chips. A television screen on the wall was playing a mix of football highlights and previewing the wildcard playoff matchups.

"Think they can make a run?" someone asked, of Indianapolis.

The river otter blinked and sat up straighter, looking over his shoulder.

A rabbit.

A doe.

Not from around here, either. A desert cottontail. Big, tall ears, an almost dusty orange pelt that turned white on her frontside.

"You're from ... Nevada?" Baxter recalled. Kendra. That was her name. Her picture had been in the weekly staff bulletin. She was one of the new producers, putting together the newscasts from behind-the-scenes. So, in effect, his boss.

Guess I better behave, then!

The job had opened when the previous occupant had been hired away by the local NBA team to run their broadcasts. Local news had such a high rate of turnover.

Like Dotty ...

"New Mexico," the rabbit corrected, ears flicking high. "Albuquerque. Born and raised."

"Never been." Baxter swiveled his chair to face her, his rudder-tail slotted through the gap in the back and resting on the floor.

"It's pretty neat! Bigger than people think," Kendra said. Standing, she swayed from side to side. Her voice was soft. "I miss it, sometimes. Especially today."

"Bet you're not used to his kind of cold, huh?" the otter guessed.

"Never even seen snow before."

"Really?"

"Yup! Today will be my first time."

"I'm from Boise. So, if you ever need ski lessons or a partner in a snowball fight, I'm your otter."

"Otters are always winning gold in luge and skeleton at the Winter Games," Kendra noted.

"Never could remember the difference between the two," Baxter admitted. "Belly or back? But we are good at sliding."

"I guess that's my awkward way of saying that our network has the Games this year. Summer, not Winter. But, uh ... " Kendra rubbed her neck with a paw. "I've been tasked with deciding which on-air talent we're going to send to Japan for on-site reports and features."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm. Would you ... I mean, are you interested? I could put you in the pool for consideration," Kendra offered.

"Sure! That'd be great!"

"Okay." Kendra smiled and nodded. She took a breath, looking at the floor and then up at the TV. She didn't seem shy as much as introverted. Baxter, meanwhile, was as extroverted as they came. Gaze drifting back to the otter, she said, "Idaho, huh? Do you like potatoes?"

"I like fries with my fish," he joked with a toothy smile.

"Heh ... "

"I heard that you played volleyball, was it?" Baxter asked.

"In college, yeah. Won a national championship! Well, our team did ... I was just lucky to be along for the ride."

"Impressive!"

"That was my junior year. Senior year, I tore a ligament in my knee and ... " She shrugged and trailed off. "I was headed into media, anyway."

"I played in college, too. Not volleyball," the otter quickly said. "Water polo."

"Never met anyone who played that! Did you have to wear one of those silly caps?"

"Yep. And goggles."

The rabbit giggled.

"We never won anything, though. Not even our division. But, hey, I got a scholarship out of it."

"As long as you had fun."

"Most of the time."

The cottontail looked at the TV again, clasping her paws behind her back. "That was a good interception." She nodded at the replay. "Single-pawed? And the vertical reach?"

Baxter casually leaned back in his chair. "Awesome, yeah." Answering her original question, he added, "Colts might have a run in them, if they get lucky. They're not the best team in the conference, but 'any given Sunday,' you know? Division will be loaded with quality QB's soon and our guy's on the cusp of forty. In a few years, we'll be stuck in a rebuild. So, hopefully, they make the most of the opportunity."

"Uh-huh," Kendra said quietly.

Baxter wondered if he was being too 'inside baseball.' He added, "It's just more fun covering the local teams when they're on top. Community buzzes! Gets the adrenaline going."

"Doesn't hurt the ratings, either," Kendra said, speaking from a practical production point of view. "More viewers for the playoffs means we can charge more for ads."

"Hadn't thought of that," Baxter admitted. "Makes sense!"

Kendra looked around. "Well! I should ... I gotta go. And I think you have a 12:20 spot coming up?"

"That I do." Then he was off for the day. He almost asked what time she got off but didn't want to press too hard. Or come off as desperate. Does she like me? I think she likes me. She's cute! But we just met and she's my boss. If he wanted to make a move, he needed to think it through.

"Have a good one!" Kendra said, pivoting and padding off.

"You, too." The otter sighed as he watched her go. Something about a rabbit rump! Those hips? Those little, fluffy bobtails, flickering like furry flames? And the huge, hopping feet? Mmf ...

For the first time in a while, Baxter wasn't thinking about Dotty.

"Busy?" Juniper asked, pushing open the bedroom door.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Petra said, straddling Eagan. The rat and chipmunk were in the fur. No penetration yet, just some heavy rubbing and grinding.

"How would you hear my knockin' over all this rockin'?" the weasel teased, sashaying toward the bed. "Hey, Eagan."

"H-hey, June," Eagan panted, still winded from a vigorous make out session Petra had put him through.

"Got room for one more?" Juniper asked. "Only, I kinda don't wanna be alone right now." Outside, the light was fading. The wind was picking up, howling ominously. Snow was beginning to fall. It was like the world was on the precipice looking straight down.

Petra glanced at Eagan.

"Sure," the chipmunk said.

"I'm game if he's game. But he's cumming in me," Petra stressed. "You got him last time."

"Fine, whatever. I'll sit on his face." The weasel smirked, her shirt and top flying across the room. Then she kicked her pants and panties off and climbed into bed. "And suck on yours," she told Petra.

"Smooth talker."

"You can play with my tits."

"Just so long as I can breathe," Eagan reminded beneath them.

Half-an-hour later, blizzard conditions reigned. With the worst part of the storm parked above the center of the state, all anyone could do was hunker down and wait it out.

The two harvest mice were snug and warm, golden in color and comfort.

Fib had safely arrived at Meadow's house a few hours earlier, where he was going to stay for the weekend. After dinner, they'd wound up on the couch in front of the TV. An old black-and-white movie was playing, one of those zippy, romantic screwballs. The Lady Eve.

The mice steadily lost track of the plot, ending up horizontal and somehow losing their clothes in the process. The resulting cuddling was becoming increasingly intense.

Fib fumbled for the remote and pressed at buttons until the TV was muted. Then he let the remote tumble to the floor.

"Meadow ... " Spooned up behind her, arms capturing her in a hug, he nibbled on his girlfriend's neck.

"Mmm?"

He buried his nose in her fur, breathing of her scent. "I love you."

A shy, little beat passed. She grabbed one of his paws, fingers meshing as she replied, "I love you, too, Fib."

The male harvest mouse smiled happily. He rubbed at her belly with his free paw and mentioned, "You know ... my lease is up soon."

Meadow nodded. She remembered him bringing it up a few days ago. Or had it been last week?

"And the station's offered me that contract extension." He was even getting a bit of a raise!

"You deserve it."

"What I mean is ... I'll be secure for a while. So, I was wondering if I should re-up for a year ... on my place, I mean. Or maybe we could move in together?" Fib sweetly nuzzled her nape with his nose. "You know?"

"Where? Here?" Meadow said, of her place in the countryside.

Fib hesitated before admitting, "Well. I really need to be a little closer to the city, for work. At least on a permanent basis. Otherwise, the commute ... "

"Right." Meadow got quiet.

She'd have to sell. This house had been in the family for half-a-century. Not that she had any family left ...

Her parents were deceased. She had no siblings and, at thirty-six, didn't plan on having children. Fib didn't want them, either. She had cousins. A whole lot of them, in fact. But they had their own lives. They didn't need a rural fixer upper. Who was she saving this place for? Herself? Why? There was nothing about her past worth clinging to.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want," Fib assured. A tender pause. "We could get a new house, somewhere on the north side," he suggested gently. "I could live here while we hunt for something, which would give us a little time to spruce things up for market. Maybe we use the money to take an extravagant honeymoon ... a week on a tropical island, far away."

"Yeah," Meadow agreed. It was a very reasonable, grown-up sort of--

Honeymoon?

Fib kissed her nape, murmuring against the back of a delicate ear. "Marry me."

Meadow's lobes spiked with heat, turning rosy pink.

This wasn't the first time Fib had asked her. Not_technically_. But the other times had been more conversational, more indirect, as if he'd been broaching the subject and exploring her mood on the matter. She'd always responded with anxious uncertainty, unable to spit out a real response, and he'd always eased up.

But this? Now?

This was ... so direct.

Meadow's insecurities rushed to the fore.

It's like that Carly song ...

'Romance is fine. Pour me some wine. Tell me it's just for the fun of it. I don't want to be the one, the one. It's too much pressure! It's too much pressure!'

Meadow just found it hard to believe anyone could love her like Fib did. She trusted her love for him, but why would anyone love _her_like that?

I'm nothing special. I'm just me ...

Her relationship history before Fib was full of fizzled connections, of loss. Lovers and family alike. She invariably lost everyone she cared for. It hurt too much to think about losing Fib, too Just the possibility made her weak. But she was just certain something would eventually go wrong. If not of her own doing, then maybe something randomly bad would happen or--

"Butterscotch," Fib breathed.

"I ... I, uh ... " Meadow realized she was getting dizzy, breathing so fast she was going to hyper-ventilate. Her eyes watered.

Fib just held her, nuzzling, making soothing little squeaks.

Meadow opened her muzzle to say more, but the words got caught. She was afraid to live with him and afraid to live without him. If both fears were equal, why did it matter which one she went with? Why did the concept of being happy make her feel a strange form of guilt?

It's one word.

Just say it!

Come on ...

Fib's fingers between her legs began to curl between her thighs. "It'll be okay. I promise."

Meadow sucked air, temperature rising.

Fib, fingertip grazing and then outright rubbing her clit, whispered, "How 'bout it? Mm?"

Meadow arched her body. "Mmh ... " She knew that the pleasure she was feeling, that he was giving her, was influencing her thought process. But so what? She felt good. Because of him. With him. She wanted to feel this way all the time.

As his fingers strayed and he penetrated her sex with a one, sliding it in and out, Meadow finally whimpered, "Y-yes ... "

Fib beamed. Meadow couldn't see it, but she could practically feel it. "Really?"

"Yes," she repeated, panting for breath. She tried not to get hung up on the details. Not right now. She just went with the feeling, the emotion. And it was bringing her to him with the force of a tidal wave. She felt lighter when she said it, like a weight had been lifted.

Fib kissed at her with abandon. Shoulders, neck. Cheek. "Oh, Butterscotch!" One of his paws pushed up on the leg she wasn't laying on.

Meadow got the hint. She raised it upward, exposing her loins to him, wet with anticipation and need.

The other mouse, achingly erect, touched his sex to hers, teasing, rubbing. Tingles of pleasure sparked between them. Cutting foreplay short, Fib pushed into her sex from behind.

Meadow squeaked at being filled, taken by his thickness. Submissive by nature, she melted at every touch, every motion his body made. It made her hot and hazy. Made her want him even more. As it always did. Always would.

Fib didn't stop until his big, golden balls forced him to, leaving him at a hilt. He rested there, shivering hotly as he savored her body. Oh, the feel of her! Her smooth, slick sex, the warmth of it, wrapped so snugly around his shaft. She was divine, and he told her so. "My angel ... "

Meadow's blue eyes fluttered. She was too tongue-tied to respond with anything but a moan.

Fib pulled back, firmly thrusting into her.

Her breasts jostled, and she squeaked!

Fib groped at her frontside, hips moving with a steady, eager rhythm. His passion ignited, there was no containing it.

Meadow's maw fell open as she was drilled by her mate. Her moans became louder, more expressive. "Ah, ah ... mmnnff!" Her sounds mixed with his, and the slapping, the squelching, the fur against fabric, it all made for a sexual symphony. The notes became louder and more melodic as they went, closing in on a crescendo.

She could always tell when Fib was about to lose it. He never had to say anything (though he sometimes did). Just the way his breathing changed, the way his touches became more desperate and grabby?

All those things were happening now ...

As Fib doubled down and threw himself into her, Meadow's tail threaded and looped with his, entwining, casting over the back of the couch.

Warm and lazy, Meadow sank into the couch cushions as Fib repeatedly sank into her. And, suddenly, he didn't pull back. He stayed. Hugging her tight, he cried out in desperate pleasure as he filled her with his seed, spurt after spurt.

Meadow, feeling the pulse of his release, reached down and rubbed at her clit. As her mate's climax tapered off, she felt hers surging. It exploded forth, lighting up her nerves and sending fireworks straight to her brain. Her sex clenched around Fib's in helpless spasms, body flushed with orgasm.

Meadow squealed.

Fib grunted.

Then, nothing but light panting.

Neither said anything. They didn't need to. For the moment, their actions had said it all.

A little while later, the snow still fell outside the windows.

Inside, the TV had been turned off.

Aside from twitchy whiskers, the harvest mice were unmoving, nestled on the couch in the dark. They hadn't made it to the bedroom, let alone the shower. Fib had fallen asleep. It was only 9:30 PM, but he woke up so early for his morning news shifts. He couldn't stay up as late as Meadow could.

Meadow, unable to shut her mind off, heard her phone buzz atop the coffee table. Her eyes opened. She reached for it with her prehensile tail, shifting it closer to a paw. She grabbed it. The glow of the screen lit up her face. It was Petra.

PETRA: yo what up

MEADOW: Nothing

PETRA: in Meadow-speak that means you're with Fibster and you just fucked 20 times over

MEADOW: It wasn't twenty times Roll-eye emoji

PETRA: not judging, just require juicy deets

MEADOW: He's literally right behind me

PETRA: oh, so 21 times, got it! Wink emoji

MEADOW: He's asleep...

PETRA: well, I had a hot 3some with Juniper & Eagan. And a gourmet frozen pizza

MEADOW: Sounds kinky

PETRA: we had a pizza after, not during. your mind!!!

Meadow smiled and gnawed on her lower lip. It made her just as nervous to type it as it had been to give Fib an answer, but she broke the news to Petra.

MEADOW: Fib proposed to me! Blushing emoji And I said yes...

PETRA: I gotta be your maid of honor, don't I

MEADOW: You could say congrats!

Petra: I'll throw you a wild bachelorette party and we'll get you drunk

Meadow: You're so sentimental. We haven't set a date. Might not be 'til next winter when the pandemic is fully over. He wants a tropical honeymoon, and I think that's better in winter, anyway

Petra: leaves you whole year to worry about it, your favorite pastime!

Meadow didn't type anything back.

Petra: y'know I'm glad you're happy, girly

Meadow: Thanks

Petra: Thumbs-up emoji.

Meadow: So... what are you up to now?

Petra: playin' games with June. I'm a novice and still kickin' her weaselly ass. she says to tell you she never plays well after sex, too tired, excuses!

Meadow: I believe you, Juniper

Petra: suck up

Meadow: Yawn emoji. Well, I'll let you go

Petra: yeah, ok

Meadow: Squeak later!

Petra: aren't you precious Starry-eyed emoji

Meadow smiled and put her phone down, closing her eyes again and cuddling back into Fib's chest.

"Mmm ... "

_Wish we got snowed in more often! _