FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was New Year's Eve, late-afternoon, and the sun was steadily sinking toward the horizon.

As she got out of her car, garage door still open, Meadow squeaked.

The snow and wind whipped at her face, reaching inside to stab at her.

There's no escaping it!

It wasn't just cold. It was achingly cold.

Shivering uncontrollably, Meadow scurried around Fib's vehicle, up a short flight of steps, and desperately fumbled with the doorknob as she tried to enter the house. Her muscles were slow to react. The harvest mouse's buckteeth chattered. Whiskers were stiff, glistening with ice crystals.

She finally made it inside and slammed the door shut the door behind her, slumping against it and blowing out a breath.

"Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh!" she muttered desperately, taking off her gloves and clasping her furless, pink paws together. She blew into them to warm them up.

A vortex of heavy polar air had settled over the region, bringing about a 'deep freeze.' The wind made it worse. Much worse. Not only by swirling about the powder-white snow, causing dangerous drifts and driving down visibility. But the wind chill? It didn't matter how many layers you wore, because the air, gusting at thirty miles per hour, cut right through.

Like endless icy daggers.

I'm so cold I almost wish I was in heat.

And given the feral madness involved, that was saying something!

"Butterscotch?" called Fib from the other room.

Her mate, a fellow harvest mouse. Six years younger than her (32 to her 38), he was outgoing and extroverted. Butterscotch was his pet name for her, on account of her warm, candy-colored fur, which was patterned identically to his own.

"Y-y-yeah," she managed.

"You're home early!" he said as he came to greet her.

"A lot of p-patients cancelled today c-cause ... of the ice and s-snow." Meadow, shivering, wriggled out of her heavy winter coat, hanging it (and her toboggan hat) on the coat rack. "And c-cause it's a holiday tomorrow, and ... they, uh, s-sent me home." She worked as a receptionist at a dental office.

"Poor girl! Come 'ere. I'll warm you up by the fire," Fib offered, opening his arms.

Meadow, kicking off her snow boots, went to him.

They hugged.

Closing her eyes, she nestled her nose against his neck. "I think l-left the garage door open ... "

"I'll get it. Don't worry." He combed her head-fur with his fingers, brushing his whiskers against hers and whispering soothingly, "Do you want some hot tea?"

"Y-yes."

"I'll go brew you some." He kissed her forehead.

Meadow hugged him tight, not wanting to let go.

Fib knew all about the weather, of course. He was a meteorologist for a local TV station. Weekday mornings:

"Fib the Morning Mouse here! Welcome back to 13 Sunrise. Hope you all left your pipes dripping over the weekend! Don't stop yet, though. While the worst of the winter storm has passed in terms of accumulation, we're in for another bitterly cold day here in Central Indiana. Triple tailsock weather," Fib said to the camera, as if announcing a DEFCON stage. "That's right. I said triple."

Wearing a button-up dress shirt with a colorful bowtie, he stood aside as the onscreen graphic changed from 'radar view' to 'current temperatures.'

"It's going to be a clear, sunny day, but don't let that fool you, folks. A wind chill advisory remains in effect until 11 AM tomorrow. Before accounting for wind chill, which makes all this feel even colder, we're still near zero degrees in most of the viewing area, including downtown Indianapolis. Carmel. Tipton. Both at negative one. Lebanon is actually at negative _two_right now. That's the seventh-coldest temperature on this date ... going back to 1871! Brr! But hope is on the horizon ... "

The map zoomed out.

Using his prehensile tail as a pointer, Fib reappeared and gestured at a front moving across the Midwest. "You'll see some warmer air out here. This bubble going to displace our polar vortex starting late tomorrow. Temperatures will steadily climb."

The graphic finally changed to show the seven-day outlook.

"We should be back above freezing by mid-week, and even above the seasonal averages by next weekend. We're expecting some all-day rains with this system, and we'll give you more details as it gets closer."

Fib flashed a big, bucktoothed grin at the camera and proclaimed, "And that's my golden guarantee!"

Meadow sat on the couch while Fib made the tea.

Their house had central heating but was also fitted with a fireplace. Nothing said 'cozy' like a crackling fire. It was so primal. Elemental. Romantic. She watched it while she waited, zoning out. Eyelids becoming heavy.

She was just about to drift off when Fib returned. He had two mugs of sweetly scented red tea. Vanilla bourbon rooibos. Steam wafted from the tops.

"Here we go!"

He put them down on the coffee table in front of the couch, on coasters between a pair of poinsettia plants, and then sat beside his mate.

"Mm?" Meadow stirred, rubbed her eyes, and yawned. Widely. "Oh." She placed a paw in front of her gaping muzzle. "Thanks." She reached for her mug, blowing on it before attempting a sip. "Oof!" A little too warm. She set it back down to cool.

You were too cold earlier.

Now the tea is too hot?

Okay, Goldilocks.

She caught Fib staring at her and blushed.

"What?" she asked, prone to self-consciousness.

"You're so cute."

Meadow dipped her chin. He was always telling her things like that, even when she didn't feel it (which was most of the time).

If I'm 'Goldilocks,' then he's 'Mr. Just Right.'

She slipped one of her paws into his, their fingers meshing.

How did I get this lucky?

"Thanks, but ... I, uh, feel like a mess," she finally replied. Her tail wavered into her peripheral vision. "See? I'm still wearing my tail-sock. Indoors." She'd forgotten to take it off with her hat and coat.

"It's thermal, right?" Fib used his tail to reel in hers. Sure enough, the sock was 'thermal.' Form-fitting, locking in her body heat. "Thermals can be a little restricting ... don't you think? A tail needs to breathe, after all."

"I am getting a little toasty. Guess I should, uh, take it off," she replied, looking into his sky-blue eyes.

"Let me do it," he breathed.

I know that tone.

That look.

"We, uh ... we've got company coming in a few hours," she reminded, sitting up straight. "And it's New Year's Eve, so ... "

"You wanna conserve your energy so you can make it to midnight," Fib answered knowingly, peeling her tail-sock off, making a slow, sensual show of it. "I get it. I guess I can control myself." He dangled her sock before letting it drop to the carpet.

Fib segued into stroking that bare, vulnerable tail. Pink, furless, warm to the touch. He then brought it to his lips and kissed it.

"Don't see any signs of frostbite."

He suckled on the tip.

"How does it feel?"

"Feels, uh ... g-good." Meadow sighed. "I mean! It's ... yeah," she answered, ears blushing.

Is he trying to make me change my mind?

He quirked a brow, as it to wordlessly confirm her suspicions.

" ... I ... I still wanna wait," Meadow insisted. It was only the half-truth at this point.

Do you really want to wait?

She didn't answer that. But she did have stuff to do.

You have to get ready for Daisy and Rico. Gotta get the food prepared, find the blow-ticklers. Or whatever those noise-making paper things are called. Party horns? Blow-tickler sounds more fun.

Fib nodded and eased up, releasing her tail.

"If, uh ... if we're both feeling up to it, maybe we do it _after_midnight?" Meadow suggested.

"Yeah?"

"Start the year off with a good memory."

"That can be arranged," he said with a wink, accepting the offer.

Fib reached for his mug of tea, which had cooled down enough to drink. He also grabbed the remote control and turned on the television, scrolling through the channels.

Meadow cleared her throat and picked up her own mug. She held it with both paws, closing her eyes and breathing the rich, vanilla aroma before bringing the liquid to her lips. It rejuvenated her body instantly.

The scent reminded her of her friend (and next-door neighbor) Daisy. She and her mate Rico would be joining Meadow and Fib tonight. Daisy's house always smelled like a heady perfume, a mixture of sweet spices and flowers ... _ _

"Here! Take a poinsettia," the big, chocolate-furred capybara said. (At her house. A few days ago, right before the 'vortex' arrived.) Daisy stopped and handed Meadow a pot. A vibrant, festively red-and-green plant, big and bushy. "Maybe two!"

"Oh, um ... are you sure?" Meadow asked. Finding it a tad heavy, the petite mouse immediately put the pot down, only for the capybara to hand her another. Meadow blinked. "Thanks." She set it next to the first one.

"Christmas is over, and I have too many. Gotta make room for spring seedlings. Won't start those quite yet, but ... planning ahead, here." She tapped the side of her oblong head, thinking.

Daisy was a successful horticulturalist. In other words, a 'professional gardener.' She worked for hire but also had her own radio program and even did guest spots on Fib's morning newscast. She was sort of a local celebrity.

But, then, so is Fib.

Why am I so plain in comparison to everyone else in my life?

"What are you planting this spring?" Meadow wondered.

"Oh! Dhalias. Begonias, delphiniums." The capy counted on her fingers. "Pansies? Snapdragons?"

"You don't have room for all of that ... do you? Inside, I mean?"

Outside, the capybara's front and back yards had been converted into perfect, pristine gardens. Perennials, annuals. A changing mixture. All dormant, now, of course, but wildly impressive during the summer. People would randomly stop and take pictures. Daisy, as open-armed as they came, would go out to greet them, often giving impromptu tours.

Rico would watch shyly from the living room window until the strangers left.

"Barely!" Daisy told Meadow. "As soon as it's warm enough, the seedlings can all get moved to the garage. Can't transplant them into the ground until after the last freeze. But not all those need to be started indoors. Some are 'direct sow'."

"When will the tulips we planted come up?" Meadow wondered.

Last fall, Daisy had helped her plant hundreds of tulips in her and Fib's front yard. Meadow, a lifelong country girl until moving to the city with Fib, loved flowers. Peonies, especially. The vividly pink ones. Coral pink. Also, zinnias. All colors! Anything foolproof to grow. Tulips fit into that category, and Daisy had hooked her up with the newest and most unique varieties.

"Late-February, you'll see the tips emerge. They won't bloom until mid-April." Daisy brushed past the mouse and moved another pot, trying to clear off a desktop. "This is one of Rico's workspaces. I'm not supposed to put flowers on it."

"Does he get mad?"

"No, he's a sweetheart. He'd let me do anything I wanted. It's too easy to take advantage of that. Have to catch myself, sometimes!"

Daisy and Rico, a long-eared chipmunk, were still 'newlymates' compared to Meadow and Fib. The mice had been together five years this winter. Daisy and Rico's one-year anniversary wasn't 'til late-January.

Rico was a producer at a radio station. The one where Daisy had her show. A very even-keeled guy, often hesitant to speak his mind. If he was bothered by their house overflowing with flowers, he never said.

Getting exclusive (and frequent) access to the capy's sexual 'flower' made up for any inconvenience, however. The chipmunk had crushed on her for the longest time before they'd gotten together, so he never took their relationship for granted.

"Are we still celebrating New Year's with you guys?" Meadow asked, helping Daisy clean off Rico's desk. Running a wet towel back and forth over the top of it.

"That's the plan! Your place, right?"

"Mmhmm." Since New Year's Eve was on a weekend, Fib could actually stay up for it this year. He didn't have to be at the station at 5 AM the next morning. He only worked weekdays. "You can bring the drinks. We'll provide the food. Maybe, um ... yeah, we'll have supper at 6:30? Then play some games. Put on a movie, maybe. Then watch the ball drop."

"Sounds like a full night!"

"Mice aren't good at taking it easy." Meadow looked out a window. Dim and grey, overcast, snow flurries omnipresent. "I keep forgetting winter has barely started." She reeled in her tail, inspecting her tail-sock. "Do you think I need a thicker one?"

"A tail or a sock?"

"You kid, but furless tails can be a pain." Meadow sighed. "We gotta protect them from frostbite in the cold. Protect them from sunburn in the heat. And they're not as pretty or eye-catching as big, fluffy ones."

"Nonsense. It's low maintenance! No brushing or grooming. Get up and go! Also, a big, wavy line leading the eye directly to your rump? People aren't distracted by the tail, so they appreciate your ass more. And you got a cute one!"

Meadow giggled. "Stop it ... "

"Facts are facts!" the capy teased. "It's like an extra limb, isn't it? Your tail?"

"Well. Sorta, yeah ... " Harvest mice had uniquely prehensile tails. They were the only species of mouse who did.

"I mean, what good is a bushy tail if you can't ... well ... " The capy rattled off a list of potential uses. "Flick light switches? Use touchscreens?"

Meadow nodded. She could do all that with her tail.

"And, hey, good for onanistic purposes?" Daisy added with a big grin. "Count me in."

Ona-huh?

Meadow, blinking, didn't know what they word meant. She got out her phone and looked it up:

Of, relating to, or involving masturbation.

The mouse blushed.

Oh.

Her eyes darted.

Yup.

"Anyway, at least you have a tail." The capy swiveled her hips, shaking her curvy, tailless rump. "I'm a social outcast."

"Hardly. Everyone loves you! And I think yours, uh ... I mean, you make quite an impression even without a tail," Meadow said shyly.

Daisy wasn't svelte. No, she was buxom and shapely. Capybaras were the tallest of all rodents, so she stood above Meadow, to the point where the mouse was eye-level with her breasts.

If she hugged me, I'd probably disappear into them.

Though she had a definite 'straight' lean, the mouse would describe herself as 'bi-curious.'

Daisy stepped back from Rico's work desk and declared, "There! It's usable, now."

Meadow inspected it, giving a 'squeaky clean' stamp of approval. As for the pots of poinsettias, "Can you, uh, help me carry these to my house? They're too heavy for me."

"I don't know why I find that so adorable, but I do. Sure thing!" Daisy said, easily picking up both pots at once.

Meadow, flustered by the show of rodent strength, cleared her throat and said, "Let me put on my coat."

It was dark outside and even colder than before. The wind wouldn't let up for anything, blowing madly, angry at the world.

But inside Fib and Meadow's house, a cozy bubble of companionship made the elements seem far away.

The evening, full of laughter and conversation, passed quickly.

After playing a game of charades, they'd chatted while devouring pizza, salad, and fresh-baked cookies (oatmeal scotchies with coconut flakes). Then they'd watched a movie. A romantic comedy about a disillusioned porn writer getting kidnapped and brought to a tropical island, where she ended up living out one of her novels.

Four out of five stars.

Oh, and--

POP!

Daisy opened a bottle of champagne and poured four glasses.

Midnight was only a few minutes away.

Meadow blinked, double checking the clock.

Already?

Time flies!

Fib switched the TV to one of the network feeds. Not so coincidentally, the one affiliated with his station.

"There's no way I'd hang out in Times Square on New Year's Eve," Meadow said, leaning forward from the couch to pick up her glass of alcohol. Watching the bubbles, listening to the fizz. "Even with free hotel and airfare." Hypothermia and claustrophobia and social anxiety? And fear of flying?

Maybe your New Year's resolution should be to not be so scared of everything?

Her whiskers twitched.

Maybe.

Easier said than done.

"We did a news story on it last week," Fib said. "Comparing New York's celebration to Indy's."

"Indy has a celebration?" Daisy asked sarcastically.

Meadow giggled.

Fib continued, "Times Square is very regimented. Gotta get there early, go through security checkpoints, and then you get assigned to a certain part of the Square. Just gotta wait there 'til it all goes down."

"There are concerts," Rico added. "They happened when we were watching the movie."

"Anyone big?" Daisy wondered.

"No one mega. Usually mid-tier acts?" the chipmunk recalled. "The girls were talking about it on their show the other day." By 'girls,' he meant Mandy, Kay, and Tilly (a horse, squirrel, and jaguar respectively), the anchors for 'Eyes on Indy,' a three-hour afternoon gabfest. It was one of the many shows Rico produced for his radio station.

"Can't imagine the acoustics are great in person."

"How would you even see the ball from the ground?" Meadow asked.

"They probably have viewing screens?"

"It's more a 'made for television' experience than an 'in person' one," Fib said.

The countdown clock on the screen was at T-minus two minutes.

"So!" Daisy said cheerfully, raising her glass. "New Year's Resolutions! Short and sweet. I'll go first. I plan on exercising more. Old chestnut, I know." The capybara looked to Rico.

"Well ... " The chipmunk raises his glass. "I'm going to stop saying 'yes' to everything they ask me to do at work. Going to start putting my foot down."

"Hurrah!"

It was Fib's turn. The handsome harvest mouse lifted his drink and tilted his head, saying, "I'm going to stop letting Baxter get on my nerves." Baxter, an otter, was the morning sports anchor at the station. Once Fib's fierce rival, they'd settled into a begrudging fellowship. But that didn't mean the otter's braggadocious, playboy nature didn't still bug him, especially now that Baxter had somehow got himself mated to their mutual boss. "And I'm going to win a second Emmy award!"

Everyone giggled.

Meadow smiled at her mate. Realizing it was her turn, the smile faded a bit. She raised her glass. "Um, I'm ... " She faltered. There was so much about herself she wanted to change. Unable to settle on any particular thing, she mumbled, "I want ... I just wanna be as strong and confident and capable as all of you."

"Aw, Butterscotch," Fib said, tail entwining with hers.

Daisy gave the group a reassuring smile. "Toast, or it won't come true!"

The four friends clinked their glasses together.

"Ooh, here it comes!" Daisy said, pointing to the screen. "Should we stand up? I think we should stand up!" When Rico didn't immediately raise, she swatted at his bushy, stripey tail. "Get up, get up!"

"I'm up!"

They stood, clinking glasses once more as the countdown entered the final seconds, the glittery, light-panel ball going from white to 'sparkly supernova red' at exactly midnight.

"Happy New Year!" the friends squeaked and barked in unison.

"Let's goooooooo!"

"Woo-wooooooo!"

12:20 AM.

The calendar had officially turned.

Did life feel different?

I don't know.

Is it supposed to?

Am I doing something wrong?

Daisy and Rico walked back home.

"You tired?" Fib asked as he and Meadow cleaned up from the party. He put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher before folding and squeezing an empty pizza box into the trash.

"Honestly? Yeah." The petite mouse, putting the leftover cookies in a plastic container, slumped against the kitchen counter and rubbed her eyes. "You?"

"I mean, I'm normally in bed by 9 at the latest, so ... uh-huh," Fib said matter-of-factly. To make it to the station by 4:45 in the morning, he usually had to leave home by 4:15, which meant waking up at 3:30.

"I should've let you ... I mean, us ... I don't know why I wanted to wait," she babbled, referring to Fib's earlier attempt to seduce her. She leaned against him, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry. I just thought it would be so romantic to ring in the New Year's with--"

"A bang?" Fib provided with a chuckle.

"I was gonna say 'with you," Meadow insisted.

"Yeah. Suuuure."

She giggled. "I was! 'With you.' That's all."

"Yeah. With me. Banging," he emphasized.

"You know I'd never say anything that lewd."

"Not unless coaxed," he teased.

She blushed. "I don't know what you mean ... "

"Means you're a good girl until you're not." He errantly breathed into her ear, making her shiver. "Bet I can get you to say 'fuck' before we go to sleep."

"Is ... is that one of your New Year's resolutions?"

"Maybe." The ear-nuzzling became more directly. "And there's a few more where that came from ... "

Her eyes opened.

She looked up at him.

He grinned, showing his buckteeth.

Five minutes ago, Meadow had been dead tired.

Now?

I'm going to regret this when I'm groggy all morning ...

But I don't care.

Her heart was racing.

She was upright, standing with Fib in the shower. He was a few inches taller, forcing her to crane her neck to make eye contact. Soaked by a steady stream of hot water, he hugged her close and kissed her. Short, sloppy kisses, hungry and impatient. Their furless feet slapped on the floor of the tub as they shuffled around. She'd started with her back to the water. Now, she was facing it.

At some point, Fib impatiently pressed his wet, wriggling mate to the shower wall.

"Mmf!"

He broke the kisses to nibble on her gold-and-cream body. Her shoulder. Her neck. A paw played with her breasts, rubbing over her nipples. "You're all I could ever want," he huffed.

She panted, water spraying from her lips and whiskers.

He always slays me with those romantic declarations!

Fib was a natural performer. In some ways a requirement for being a weatherman. You had to inform and entertain the audience in equal measure. Make them love you so much they'd stay loyal to you, your program, your station, et cetera.

But he's not acting when he sweet-talks me.

She knew so because of the things he did to her body.

I'm the only one in his viewing audience he does those things to.

He chose me.

Wants me.

Her whiskers twitched.

Why do I still feel nervous sometimes? He dotes on me, provides for me. I live in a nice, fancy house instead of a drafty, worn-down place like I did before we met. I know there are a lot of problems in the world, but I can't rage about everything all at once.

Aren't I allowed to be content?

To be free of anxiety?

At least ... some of the time?

She sighed. _ _

Fib isn't a normal mouse, though. He's, like ... a super-mouse.

I'm a normal mouse.

When you're the poster species for prey and you let your guard down completely?

That's when the predator pounces.

That's when life gets you.

It had happened to her before, and she still bore the scars on her heart.

This is different, though.

He's different.

You know that.

_He's the pot of gold at the end of your rainbow. _

She suddenly realized Fib was waiting for a response. Or a reaction. Something, anything. 'You're all I could ever want' is what he said. She opened her muzzle to say something back to him. But, as usual, it didn't come out.

Gah!

It's in my mind! Why can't I get it off my tongue?

She hung her head. The moment had passed, anyway.

But in lowering her gaze, she was treated to a familiar sight: Fib was very much ... excited. Ragingly so. Thick and pulsing with ... well ...

That's for me.

Gosh.

And his balls were so big. She wanted to cup them.

What's stopping you?

She reached down to fondle them.

She'd seen all this before, felt it before. Every masculine part of him. Countless times. How often had they made love over the past five years? She'd probably blush to know it. But repetition never lessened her appreciation. Or her enjoyment.

"I've wanted you all day," he said, undeterred by her silence.

Meadow, ears and cheeks burning, replied, "I want you to have me."

Knowing he had her attention and had her poised on the precipice of swooning, Fib's practiced digits journeyed southward, finding and rubbing her clit. His touch, combined with the warm water streaming through her pelt and over her sex?

Oh.

That did it.

Meadow moaned, both paws moving, grasping at her mate's backside. "Ah, ah ... "

Encouraged by her response, Fib fingered her.

"Ah!"

She lifted on her tiptoes.

His paw followed, finger moving in and out, curling, gently pressing for any sensitive stretch it could find.

She lowered back down, arms around his neck. "Oh, Fib ... "

"Mmm, you like that, Butterscotch?"

An emphatic nod.

"What's that?" he cooed.

"Y-y ... yes. I like it."

"Surely, you can be more descriptive than that."

He's trying to get me to say it.

I could_pretend to be innocent and chaste and draw out this teasing._ That was normally how this would go. Or I could let him get me off and we could go to bed.

"I ... I, uh ... " She faltered, hotter than the water at this point. "Want you to, um, f ... f-f ... "

Fib chuckled and patted her ass, letting her off the hook. "Lift your leg. Wrap it around me."

She did so. Once he'd secured his grip on her, she lifted the other, leaving the floor altogether.

"Good girl," he cooed into her ear, holding her up. Leaning into her, using his weight to help pin her to the shower tiles. "I got you. Just enjoy this, okay? I'll do all the work."

Meadow clung to her mate, so desperately in love with him that she felt dizzy and weak.

I want him so bad!

He indulged that want, easing himself inside her, his throbbing shaft disappearing into her body. Inch by inch. All of it.

"Ahh," he sighed.

Balls deep, he grinded against her soft, inviting pussy before slowly pulling back. His thick mousey dick glistened with her clear juices. A silkier, thicker 'wet' than the water itself. The light, what little of it there was with the curtain closed, reflected off it differently.

The mice would've noticed such details if they hadn't returned to sucking on each other's muzzles.

Kiss after kiss, twisty and passionate.

"Mmf!" she went again, her golden back sliding over the slick, off-white wall each time he humped.

Their lips parted, and she squeaked, clutching to him as he took her higher, higher. Physically divine, existing beyond space and time. There was only this. Only them.

"Ah ... ahh, ahh," Fib huffed, his pace rapid but increasingly erratic. "You ... you gonna cum, baby?"

"Yes!"

"Ah, cum for me!"

"Y-yes ... oh, oh!"

"G-good ... good girl. Come on. There you ... oh ... oh, f--"

"Fuck!" she cried, beating him to it.

In the heat of the moment, it wasn't all that hard to say. It truly conveyed how she felt as her sex spasmed, shooting stars of succulent pleasure searing across her body, every which way, to every limb, to her brain, and back to her loins.

Fib squeaked and grunted as he buried inside her, cock jerking, pulsing. "Uh! Uhh!" His eyes scrunched shut, maw hanging open in satisfaction.

Meadow whimpered.

"Y-you okay?" he eventually murmured, not bragging about getting her to curse.

He just wanted me to give me pleasure intense enough to lose control.

Mission: accomplished.

"I love you," she whispered. "I know I sometimes ... I, uh ... I get clumsy about how to say it? But I love you so much."

"I feel that. In so many ways. You light up my life, Meadow. And I love you, too."

They nuzzled their noses together.

Fib then warned, "I'm pulling out, okay? Watch your legs. Slowly ... there you go ... hold onto me."

Meadow clung to him as her foot-paws found the floor of the tub, knees wobbling. A shower wasn't the world's most comfortable venue to have sex. But it sure saved on cleanup time. Fib grabbed the shower head and detached it, bringing it between her legs.

She squeaked, taking it from him. "Thanks."

By the time they'd turned the water off and gotten out of the tub, the whole bathroom was shrouded in steam.

Meadow used her tail to flick on the overhead fan.

They toweled themselves dry, and then Fib brushed his teeth before stepping aside so she could do the same.

As they left the bathroom and walked, naked, to their bedroom, Meadow could feel herself starting to crash. Fast. And hard.

What time is it?

Do I even want to know?

"Fib," she whispered pitifully, succumbing to a string of yawns. "I'm ... aahhhm! Mm. So tired ... "

"I know, Butterscotch." The yawning spread to him, muzzle stretching wide. "Me, too."

Helping her into bed (Meadow slept on the left, Fib on the right), Fib turned out the light pulled the covers over them both, eventually spooning up behind her. "See you tomorrow."

Meadow, drifting off, didn't know what the next year would bring. Trials and tribulations, joys and celebrations.

But whatever came, she wasn't alone.

I have him.

He has me.

We'll face life together.

She smiled.

That was half the battle.