Crash
Pace, pace, pitter-patter-patter.
Silence.
Pace, pace ...
" ... Deering."
... pitter-patter-patter. Delicate mousey foot-paws shuffling on the carpet, retracing steps, body moving back and forth, back and forth between the desk and the sealed door. With long, ropy tail trailing behind.
"Deery?"
"Mm?" The mouse stopped, twitching, blue eyes wide with anxiety. Twitch. Pace. Stop. Twitch-twitch.
"Come here," Audra whispered, patting one of the couch-cushions with her paw. The office was dim. Mostly dark. It was twenty-four hours after the High Command/Federation treaty vote. Twenty-two hours since she and Deering had officially 'mated.' And twenty minutes since the entire governmental facility had gone into 'crash' mode. Lock-down. Which meant a security breach. Which meant a bomb threat. Which meant an orbital ship or station, or even a land-based government facility, had been compromised with hostile intent.
It meant any number of things.
But, since, during 'crash,' communications went down, they had no way of knowing for sure. All doors automatically sealed themselves, so the only way to leave the office was to pry the door open or short-circuit the motion-sensor mechanism (which was embedded just inside the wall). But it was protocol during these situations to stay put. To prevent a wild panic (especially amongst the prey). The facility was protected by shields and security guards. If this was truly urgent, they would've been evacuated.
But evacuation wasn't necessary yet. So, everyone was just stuck where they were.
" ... relax? Please?"
"I'm ... I can't, I ... "
" ... need to come sit down."
Deering, whiskers twitching, anxiously looked to his new mate.
She raised her brow a bit, locking gazes. Her eyes green. Like emeralds.
And, after a moment, the deer mouse sighed a bit. A soft, little breath, whispering, "Alright. I, uh ... sorry," he went, padding over to her. To the couch. And sinking onto the cushions, weakly leaning his head on her shoulder and closing his eyes. "I'm scared," he breathed, whiskers all a-twitch, twitch, twitch.
"This happens at least once a month ... seriously," she told him. "I've been through this before. And I'm still here." A soft nose-nuzzle to his cheek. "Alright?" Truth be told, she was scared, too. She was prey. A mouse. She had to deal with that gnawing anxiety, that wriggling unease. But, also, "I, uh ... I took some 'anti-mousers' ... uh, earlier." She normally didn't stutter when she talked. But she was embarrassed to admit such a thing. "I had a meeting with the admirals, about reinstating, uh ... Redwing Station." A sigh. "I know I'm an ex-officer, a commander, so I'm somewhat used to dealing with 'brass,' but they intimidate me. I just ... and I only got one shot to meet with them, cause they rarely make appointments for 'civilians.' If I hadn't charmed them with my cuteness, they would've fobbed me off to their assistants ... " She trailed, feeling like she was making excuses.
Deering just breathed softly, head still on her shoulder, big, dishy mouse ears swiveling so slightly, listening keenly.
Audra opened her muzzle, then shut it. And opened it again, saying, "I take them sometimes ... not every day," she assured. "I should've told you. It's just that, you know, being a mouse in a high-pressure job, and ... " She breathed in through the nose. "I, uh ... " A sigh. " ... I know that some mouses think that taking medicine to ease the anxiety is equivalent to saying 'I'm ashamed of being a mouse.' Hence, uh, 'anti-mousers' ... I just ... " A soft twitch, nose in his neck-fur, now. "Deering ... "
" ... it's okay."
"Are you sure?" she whispered.
"It's fine. I ... I ... give me one," he whispered. "Please, I ... my heart," he went, eyes very wide, heart going hammer-hammer-hammer in his chest. The anxiety. The fear. It was almost paralyzing. And, sure, he felt it all the time, and he'd taken medicine before, but he tried not to. Only if he really needed it. But in a situation like this? The lights off, the doors sealed, the building possibly in danger of being bombed? Possibly, they could all be seriously hurt or even die tonight? This was an extenuating circumstance, for sure. "I'm scared ... " His whiskers quivered.
"Alright," she soothed, stroking his arm. Tenderly brushing her fingers through his buttery-tan arm-fur. "Alright ... stay here." And she gently slipped off the couch, going to her desk, fiddling around, opening a drawer. And returning a few seconds later. "You need water to swallow it?"
A weak nod.
"Okay, uh ... food processors are down. They run the main power grid. I got some ration packs in my desk for, uh ... situations like this. Water packs," she said, returning to her desk. Rummage-rummage-rummage. And a squeak. "Here. Okay," she said, using her rodent buckteeth to tear a corner off the pack. And, returning to her new husband, she handed it to him.
Deering, sitting up, took the water pack. Put the pill on his tongue, tilted his muzzle back, and squeezed some water in. Eyes shut, he swallowed. Getting it down on the first try. A sniffle, and he nodded, handing the water packet back to her. "I, uh ... it might spill."
"I'll prop it up somewhere, or ... no, I got an empty water bottle in my desk," she remembered. "Just be a few seconds. Just take slow breaths."
Deering nodded, leaning back against the couch-cushions. His heart rate slowing. Immediately feeling some of the effects. "Mm ... how, uh, long do these things normally last?"
"Six hours."
A twitch. "Six?"
"Wait, uh ... what?"
"How long ... "
" ... the pills or the 'crashes'?"
"'Crashes'," Deering whispered. He already knew how long the pills lasted (Audra was right: six hours).
"Normally two, three hours. They gotta make sure it's an 'all clear' before they release everyone. Gotta cover all bases." A flowing sound, the water from the packet being poured into a water bottle. And, then, she put it all away, coming back to the couch. Sighing as she flopped down beside him, at a lazy sit. "Here we go ... here," she whispered, "we are. We're just gonna relax," she said.
"What do, uh ... what do you normally do during these things?"
"Normally?"
A squeaky nod, his head back on her shoulder.
"Paw," she confessed. Her ears got a bit hot. "Or, uh, nibble on something in those ration packs. Read over my schedules and write my reports on my computer pads. The computer pads are isolated systems, obviously, so ... I can still work with those. Got some things I can watch or read on those, and ... " She trailed, a paw moving across his shirt.
A light nod, breathing in slowly and deeply, breathing of her earthy scent. Mouses tended to have earthy scents. His nose went into her neck fur, and he wriggled a bit.
She squirmed, moving with him, body flowing in response to his own. Like they were two clockwork mouses, designed to work together.
"What, uh ... what'd the admirals say?" His lips parted, sucking lightly on her wheat-colored fur.
She fumbled with his shirt. Quietly, carefully beginning to lift it, in the hopes of peeling it off.
His arms raised.
"They said they agreed that Captain Terrence's testimony was probably bogus, and ... privately," she added, successfully getting her husband's shirt off, exposing his creamy-whit echest, "one of the prey admirals told me the only reason Terrence hasn't been discharged is because he has predatory backing. But, uh ... they didn't feel, regardless, that Redwing Station was feasible to operate under the Federation banner at this time. Too far away. Of too little impact. We got problems closer to home, and so ... yeah, they're not gonna reverse their decision. But I tried ... "
Deering gave a bit of a chitter, his wife's paws roving over his bare chest and belly, fingers splaying, sliding through his fur.
" ... so, I contacted Commander Peregrine on the sub-space comm, afterwards, and I told him as much. He thanked me." A breath, fumbling with Deering's pants, now. "He told me that, uh ... he knew I had to try and reverse the decision, just because it was a mouse matter. And it was my duty. But that he was secretly hoping I'd fail, cause he and his little crew are hoping to turn Redwing into an independent oasis for ... way-out ships, and, uh ... " A button undone, and a zipper going down. " ... lift your hips, Deery."
He did so, with a wriggle, his pants sliding off his hips. And white, cotton briefs following, her paws guiding them down, down past his knees. "I can, uh ... kick 'em the rest o' the way," he breathed.
An eager nod from her, raising her arms, wriggle-squeaking out of her own shirt. And working her own pants down, down, off. Leaving her in bra and panties. While Deering, beside her, was bare.
"Hey," he breathed, so gently, with his shy, effeminate wisp. "Hey, I got naked ... "
" ... mm-hmm," she said, eying him playfully, drinking him in her with her eyes. And a delicious drink it is, she thought to herself. "Mm.". Her tail was snaking through the air like a come-to-life spaghetti noodle.
"What 'bout you," he said, his rural accent slipping into a heavier twang. Just on that single sentence. As if he was so relaxed he didn't realize he was speaking so loosely. But it returned to normal as he continued, "Aren't you gonna join me?"
"I was leaving the bra and panties for you," she breathed, close to one of his ears, "to remove ... thought you might like to 'unwrap' me." A giggle-squeak, and a soft, dizzy breath. They were already forgetting they were under a lock-down, that they were potentially in danger. Their scents swimming in each other's noses, their body heat shared, their dreamy intentions converging into reality. For no mistake: they were on their way to sweet, loving sex. Mouse-on-mouse on her office couch. And, oh, they were getting excited.
Oh, the thought! That it may be true. That love may, at this hour, this very minute, supplant all that was grey and blue in the world, and make for sugary-sweet light. Make for emotions warm and bright.
"Mm ... " His paws fumbled at her bra. He blew out a breath.
"You have rural paws," she noticed, turning her head. "They just ... I can tell," she breathed. "It's not a bad thing, either," was her assurance, pupils dilated. Last night, they had stayed at his place. After the floor vote, after getting their 'mating' rings, after exchanging their vows. After it all, they'd gone back to his little house in the fields half an hour outside the city. They'd been discussing, on and off, where they should permanently live. And were leaning toward Deering's house.
His house had been in his family line for a few generations. It meant more. And, out there, in the countryside, there was quiet and peace and nature. And after working in a hectic, noisy political forum all day long, it was such a welcome respite. Audra had really enjoyed herself last night. Had gotten a very restful sleep. And not just because they'd bred for the first time before going to bed. (Though maybe that had a little bit to do with it. Maybe more than a little. Maybe a lot.)
They'd gotten to work a little bit late today, but everyone had forgiven them. After all, they were 'newly-mates.' They got a lot of congratulations and hugs and such. As had Russo and Astrid, who had also officially 'mated' last night. And that mate-ship was more surprising. They weren't the same species. They weren't even both prey or both predator. They were a definite dichotomy. Add that to the fact that Astrid had been ousted from her Council seat by her fellow predators and had immediately taken a job with Russo, the snow rabbit High Command's ambassador to the Furry Federation. And, well, you had an interesting situation. Sylvan had been in an extremely grumpy, growly mood all day long, and the furs here in the rodent wing of the building, being prone to chittery gossip, were taking bets on who he'd take his aggression out on first.
But all of that aside.
Everything aside.
Bra removed.
And his fingers slipping beneath the light band of her panties, peeling them down, down, her body wriggling to accommodate him. Until her foot-paw was able to kick them away, into the dimness of the office. Onto the carpet somewhere.
"Now," Audra breathed, nodding, "I'm naked. Happy?" she asked, panting a bit.
A cute, squeaky nod, and a sigh from Deering, who tenderly leaned into her, half-sprawling across her, lips going to her shoulder, mouthing, mouthing. Wasting no time. Oh, no, wasting no time at all. Going down a bit. To one of her breasts, where he gave little huffs on the furry mound, circling the hardening nipple slowly, slowly. He wanted to give her a few seconds of anticipation, a few seconds of shivery waiting. A few seconds before he began the actual suckling.
"Oh, gosh," Audra sighed, feeling his lips graze the nipple. Her paws stroked the back of his head, a few fingers errantly brushing against his ears. Barely. Enough to make him suck in air.
A squeak, and the nipple slipped between his warm, loosened lips.
Audra leaned back, closing her eyes.
And he suckled.
"Oh ... " Her sounds were soft. Controlled. Just like his. Mouses could, indeed, be 'squeakers' during sex, but that didn't necessarily mean they were 'loud.' They just made lots of sounds. Many of those sounds being muffled, soft, and chittery. High-pitched, light. Like they could float away in the air. Like their love was made of clouds and sunshine and things. Yes, lemon-drops and flowers and mousey-mouse tails. There love was made of things so sweet and good. Or so it seemed, anyway, as the two naked rodents began to limb-wrap, began to twitch and squeak, their tails snaking like wayward, happy ropes, and their ears big and dishy and turning rosy-pink. As they pressed together on the couch, winding up horizontal. Winding up with ...
" ... me," she panted, "on top, Deery." A swallow, a nod, her body raising and legs spreading a bit. She straddled his hips. No penetration yet. Just sitting there, at a straddle. "Just don't, uh ... give any sudden twitches. You might buck me off the couch." A nose-sniffing smile, her thin, silky-pink tail snaking long and lazy in the air behind her.
Deering's own tail, side-winding off the couch and on the carpet, seemed to writhe in time with hers. "I won't buck ya off."
"I know," she breathed, her paws pressing to his bare, rising/falling chest, thumbs wagging over his little, male nipples. And, stopping her thumbs, she looked down at him, leaning over him. Hunching over. Whispering, "You know, we've only done this a few times, now, but ... it feels so comfortable. Even before it starts. Like I know ... like I know you'll touch me like how I wanna be touched. Like I ... "
" ... we're both the same species," he reminded. "We both know how each other works." A pause. And, more romantically, "And I think we're just ... suited," he told her, "for bein' in love.
"We certainly wear it well, don't we? That happy, little glow, that ... extra hop in our scurry." A breath, her fingers straying to his, brushing the gold, little ring on his finger. "Your paw looks very handsome."
"And yours looks very pretty. Your ring's better."
A giggle-squeak. "Which reminds me ... which," she said, lowering her voice, "reminds me." She gave him a playful look. "Saw you and Russo comparing your rings today. Comparing ring-sizes. Made me wonder if that was a subconscious ... you know, showboating thing ... "
"No ... no, it wasn't," Deering insisted, blushing beneath the cheeks. "You know it wasn't ... "
" ... sure?" she teased.
"Audra ... "
" ... I know. I know you weren't thinking about that." A head-tilt. "Still, I thought it was kind of amusing."
"Mm ... anyway, he's a rabbit. There's no contest."
"Rabbits have bigger rings? Or bigger ... "
" ... 'things'," the mouse breathed. "You're makin' me flustered."
"Am I?" Her paws roved about his body.
"Mm. Just ... anyway, he's a rabbit. He's leagues ahead o' me in that department." Not only did rabbits have juiced-up breeding drives, but the average male rabbit was just over seven inches, with a sheath. The average male mouse was just under five inches, with no sheath. With a normal breeding drive.
"Rabbits may be the universe's self-proclaimed 'sex experts,' but you know what? I'd rather breed with a mouse any day. They're very eager, full of ... finesse," she managed, shivering at the memory of last night. And this morning. And midday. What beautiful pleasure they had shared. "Everyone knows male mouses give the best muzzle of anyone. Even better than rabbits. And what rabbits have in stamina ... you have in softness. Making love with you has been like ... slow-burning in romance. I imagine, with rabbits, it might be a bit lustier. And that's not what turns me on. Mm ... and I think you got delicious mouse-parts. They suit you." A grinning breath. "And, as you've no doubt noticed, I mated," she said, smiling down at him, "a mouse. And we're gonna be together now and forever ... " She felt, at this point, a bit girlish. Not like a twenty-three year old Council representative. But like a lazy, hazy femme. Purely feminine. Not a cog in a machine or one part of a whole. But just ...
" ... Audra?"
"Mm?" she went.
"You're zonin' out."
"I feel ... you make me," she breathed, "feel so feminine. Like such a mouse. Like ... " She drew in air. She wasn't able to word it. "I'll just have to show you," she breathed, "in a bit." Oh, she would show him how she felt. Cause, in this case, actions were better than words. Actions were going to outshine words. Oh, yes. " ... mm ... and I'm sorry for teasing you. I know you're very sensitive. Very," she breathed, "emotional. I was just trying to make you smile. I love seeing you smile ... "
And, unable to help it, he smiled, biting his lip. "You're ... "
" ... making you smile?"
" ... making me happy," he supplied.
"Should I stop?" she breathed.
"No," he mouthed back at her, eyes all innocent.
"Mm. Good. Cause I don't think I can ... "A swallow, hips raising. And lowering. Grinding against him. "You're not fully erect yet," she noticed. "Mm ... "
"No ... "
" ... well," she breathed, pupils heavily-dilated, ears swiveling and arching. "Well, we most certainly," she went, dismounting from her straddle and slinking down, down, " ... have to fix that."
"Well, uh ... you, uh ... " A squeaky wriggle, whiskers twitching.
" ... don't we?"
Deering swallowed.
"I know, when it comes to giving muzzle, you'd much rather give it to me ... and, believe me," she breathed, hotly, "I'm gonna let you." A huff. "But, as much as you love eating me out, I love giving you a good suckling ... you gonna deny me that?"
A barely-made head-shake, head-fur rustling on the couch-cushions.
A sniffy smile from her, exhaling on his semi-limp mouse-hood, lips descending, opening, paws stroking his belly.
"Ah ... " The deer mouse, eyes closed, lolled his head to the side. And stretched his toes and snaked his tail. " ... ah." A shaky breath, clutching at his wife's shoulder-fur, letting her do her thing. Oh, he was definitely erect now.
" ... I just can't ... I want him here," Rhine managed, eyes watering. "I mean, not here-here, cause it's too dangerous here right now, but ... "
" ... I know, I know." Orinoco cradled his wife softly, in her office. "He's okay. He'll be okay when we go home. My parents are watchin' him. He's far away from this."
A sniffle. "I just ... I know, I know," she breathed, wiping her paws at her muzzle, blinking several times. She'd been, for the past several minutes, worrying about their child. Their son. As a mother, as a parent, to be in a situation that could, potentially, end badly? Her thoughts had immediately raced to her baby. And how she couldn't reach him right now even if she wanted to.
" ... hey," Orinoco whispered, close to her roundish ear. "He's fine. You'll see him. We both will. This 'crash' won't last that long. Just another hour or so. And then we'll go home."
Rhine, closing her eyes, nodded. "Maybe ... y'know, sometimes, I think this job isn't good for havin' kids. I wanted a baby so bad, an' ... but was it ... " She sniffled. " ... I mean, this job's always got us busy, an' we're never with him as much as we should be."
"Well, we don't have to both work here. One of us can work closer to home, or ... y'know, not work, or ... we can discuss it," Orinoco said, sincerely.
"I wanna have more kids, Ori."
"I know ... darling, it's okay." He stroked the back of her neck, soothing her. Speaking calmly to her. "An' I wanna give 'em to you."
"But if we have more, we ... y'know, we'll have to change things a bit. Cause I can't have a family an' have this job. This job sucks all our ... time," she managed, "and energy."
"You love this job. Don't pretend you don't."
"I know. I just ... I gotta choose between the job or havin' a family, and the family's gonna win."
"Well, we just got Dixon right now," Orinoco said, of their four-month old son. "And you're there for him. We both are. We're not absent from anything. And he's with his grandparents when we're here, an' ... "
" ... I know. I know, Ori, that's just ... it's a thing. It's an instinct," Rhine stressed, "thing. I just wanna see my baby." Another sniffle, leaning into her husband. "What if it's ... terrorists. Blow this place up, and ... "
" ... no, no ... hey, don't think like that. It's probably just a false alarm. Or something they were able to stop. We've been through these things before."
A sniffle.
"Right now, things are fine. You're not gonna get pregnant again," he told her, "soon. We're careful during your heats."
A sniffle, and a nod. "We should ... anyway, let him grow up a bit, a few years older. And then have more."
"Would be a good idea. You don't wanna be raisin' two infants at once. We're still rather young."
"I feel old," she sniffled.
"You're twenty-three."
A little, brightening smile, her 'otter playfulness' coming back around. "That's kinda old."
"Isn't."
"Is."
"Rhine ... "
" ... mm?"
"If you really got these things that deep on your mind that ... that, y'know, they distress you, then just tell me. We can talk."
"I didn't know," she said, honestly, "it was on my mind that much 'til ... 'til this 'crash' thing happened. Then I got scared, and ... "
" ... your mind went to life's priorities."
A nod. "Yeah ... " A sigh, putting her nose in his rich-brown fur. "I'm alright, now. I mean it. I am ... I, uh, Ori ... "
" ... yeah, darling?"
"Can we start kissin' again?"
A beaming smile, and an otter-chirp. "Sure thing ... "
" ... my night vision isn't very good," he confessed. It was dark in here, of course, with all the power off. The governmental facility's power, anyway. The skyline of the capital was still glowing, with all those bright, yellow-lit windows. And the moonlight showering down from way above, adding to the atmosphere of it all. 'Moons'-light, rather, for there was more than one. " ... are there three moons?" Russo asked.
"Two," Astrid corrected. "One is habitable. The other is not." A pause. "How many moons do you have?"
"I do not own any moons," was the simple, logical response, his bobtail flicker-flicking simply. He, like her, was bare. Their clothes discarded, over by the work-desk. They'd been snuggling for the past hour, ever since the 'crash' had started. They'd cuddled and talked, sharing their secrets, sharing their hopes and fears. At once point, Russo had said a prayer for them both. Astrid had put her paws together and quietly listened, wishing she could be that elegant with words and ideas. Wishing she could have such belief.
"Don't own any moons?" A meow of mirth from the feline. And she gave him a little nudge. "And they say snow rabbits don't have a sense of humor ... "
"Who, exactly, says that?" He looked to her, with a bit of cheek in his posture.
"Mm ... how many moons," she repeated, with a toothy grin, "does your world have?"
"Three." A nod and a pause, his muscles tensing. "We have Arctic foxes on our second moon."
She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"It is a very contentious issue among my species. They were put there when the wasps destroyed their sun, as a temporary emergency 'shelter' ... when they were ferried into our space. It was a makeshift solution. But, after a few weeks, we found them a new world. So, another exodus began." A pause. "Some foxes, however, refused to leave the moon. Their reasons were varied, and I do not believe they had malicious intent, but ... still, who were they to be making demands? We saved their species from extinction, and they use our own land to 'bargain' with us? They were entirely out of line." A sigh. "However, forcibly removing them would've been bloody, and would've derailed the peace treaty we now have with their species." He furrowed his brow. "So, to this day, there are still a few thousand foxes on our second moon, in a little colony. Granted, we weren't using the second moon for much, but snow rabbits do live there. They were quite upset with the High Command for allowing it ... "
Astrid listened, angular ears cocked atop her head.
" ... but, whenever I am home, at night, and I look up at that moon? I don't see beauty. I don't see the sun's pale, reflected light. I see a symbol of predator/prey tension." His whiskers drooped a bit. "It saddens me. I just ... when I look up at my night sky, I just want to see a moon. That is all."
"Russo ... "
" ... but it is my fault," he continued, shaking his head, "for not being more ... "
" ... for what? If I were in your pelt, I would probably feel the same way. You do not hate the Arctic foxes, do you?"
"No." But he did fear them. And he didn't entirely trust them. They were, after all, predators. "No, but ... I fought them. In the war. I was only ... " His eyes blanked for a moment. " ... it was only a few years ago."
The jaguar was quiet, ears cocked.
"Prey aren't meant to kill. We haven't the fortitude for it," was all the snow rabbit said, his right paw trembling for a moment. He grabbed it with his left paw, stopping it, shaking his head. And, in a few seconds, his calm veneer was restored.
Astrid was a bit concerned. More than a bit. "Russo ... "
" ... I am fine. I do not hate predators. I simply hate what predators make me feel." And a pause. "But you are different. And I ... I want you to know that," he assured. "I did not marry you only for the breeding. I really do find you intriguing, and ... "
" ... you don't have to convince me of that. You've showed it to me. In bed. In your words. In your looks. You've had experiences with predators, and I've had experiences with prey. But we're engaged in a new experience with each other. And it will be better."
The snow rabbit nodded.
"Just do not belittle your feelings on such issues. You are allowed to have opinions."
"As a Christian, I should have better," he stressed, "opinions ... than some of the ones I have."
She scrunched her muzzle, not sure how to answer that.
There was a moment of silence.
And then another light nod from the snow rabbit. "I can't see very well," he whispered, "in the dark."
"I know." A pause. "You can see me, I trust?" the jaguar asked. She was sitting inches away, right next to him on the couch. In his office. His new, rather sparse office. Astrid had promised to help him 'spice it up.' And, no doubt, tropical-born felines knew all about 'spice.'
Looking to her, his pupils fully-dilated, he nodded gingerly. "I can see you," he whispered.
A soft purr. "Mm. My night vision is quite good."
"So I deemed."
"I will protect you from the dark," Astrid declared. A very feline thing to say. In a very proud, predatory tone.
Which made Russo eye-smile.
Which, with her keen night vision, she could see so clearly.
"You say these things ... you say ... "
" ... I will protect you," was her refrain. "That is my duty as a true predator, is it not? To protect prey? Rather than harm them ... " She trailed. " ... or, at least, I think so." Even if the majority of predators had a 'different interpretation' of things. She didn't have to play to that type anymore. It was, in a way, a relief to be working for Russo, rather than Sylvan. At least, now, she would be doing productive, honest things, even if her focus would be 'quadrant-wide' instead of 'species-specific.' But no more breeding around for votes. No more power plays, enigmatic threats. No more sabotaging prey-sponsored bills with last-second add-ons like 'Captain Kalmbach Appreciation Day.' Astrid was, indeed, feeling good about things. She was a little but unnerved. After all, wasn't this a big risk? Especially the 'love' part?
Russo just nodded again, a bit distracted.
And the feline blinked, snapping out of her own thoughts, and continuing, "How much of it do you feel?"
"The anxiety? The fear?"
A tilt of her big, feline head. "You are prey," she said. "You must have those things."
"Not as much as a mouse, say, or most any other prey."
"But you still feel it ... "
"Feel is a tricky word. I cannot fully 'feel' anything. It's all," he told her, "held back, frozen behind an instinctual, psychological barrier. It's ... it affects me, and I know what it is. But it's an underlying thing, like getting a trickle from a stream." A sigh. "It is complicated."
"I'm pretty complicated, myself. I know about frustration."
"I am not frustrated. I do not lament having a 'freeze.' I would become feral without it. My world, my habitat ... can be harsh. Icy and unforgiving. We used to be violent. And, with our heightened breeding drives? Even lustier than rabbits currently are. God gave us freezes to protect us from ourselves. I shudder to think what I would do, how I would become," Russo told her, "if it were to fail."
"Just as my greatest fear," she breathed, "is becoming feral ... so is yours, as well. Losing one's mind. One's civility. One's sense of self. Being swallowed up by mere instinct. Rather than having that instinct tempered with intellect."
"And spirituality," the snow rabbit added, nodding. "Yes." He took a slow breath through his coal-black nose, which was such a contrast from the white of his pelt. His nose, paw-pads, blunted claws, and ear-tips were all charcoal-colored. The rest of him a pure, snowy white, save for the pink of his ears, lips, and rabbit-hood. I am, he thought to himself, rather monochromatic. Thankfully, it comes off as striking instead of boring.
"Russo?"
" ... mm?"
"You trailed off. You were going to say ... "
" ... becoming, feral, yes ... is a fear of mine. But, by extension of that, my worst fear is even greater: losing my soul. To be feral is to have no soul. And without a soul ... "
" ... you can't go to heaven," Astrid guessed.
A weak nod. "Yes." And a deep breath, his ears twiddling. "I am sorry to be so ... " His muzzle scrunched a little. " ... to get on this topic," he finally said.
"You are a creature of logic. You needn't apologize for trying to find it." A pause. "I am not scared of deep thoughts, even if they stray into the unknown."
A soft eye-smile, from inches away.
"For all our differences, we want many of the same things. I think, together, we can succeed in getting them."
"Indeed?"
"Indeed," she repeated, leaning forward. "And I suggest we begin ... " Paws on his bare chest. " ... with the obvious." They'd only bred a few times, but breeding with a snow rabbit? Was even better than she'd imagined. Russo was naturally 'talented.' "Mm ... " A hot, hungry purr.
"I have no objections," he breathed, as her lips grazed his, "to that."
"It is ever-apparent to me," the jaguar said, pink, scratchy tongue matting the fur on his chin, "why so many furs are afraid of love. It is an altering force. It controls you. Works through you. Not," she said, lips sliding back up, brushing his again. "Not the other way around."
"It requires consistent vulnerability. As well as selflessness," the snow rabbit agreed.
"Mm ... "A nod. She kind of wanted the conversation to fizzle off. She wasn't necessarily as much an 'intellectual' as the snow rabbit was. And, though she did enjoy conversation, she preferred banter of a sexual nature. Or, at least, that's what she would've preferred right now. And her paws, roving up his bare sides, tried to intimate as much.
Russo tilted his head, their lips touching again, smacking softly, saliva stringing. "And only," he breathed, to her, so close, so warm, " ... and love is the only thing that can truly redeem ... the truly repentant are, in a way, the true lovers in life. Such is the basis of my faith," he explained. "Redemption through love both received and returned."
"I suppose so ... " The jaguar, herself, wasn't a Christian. Though she desired to have faith, she wasn't sure how to go about it. Predators tended to rely on themselves. Dependence on others (even Deity) was viewed as a weakness. A liability.
Russo, as if sensing her thoughts, said, "I shall teach you ... "
"What if I am not able to believe?"
"If a snow rabbit is able, a jaguar is able," was the gentle response. "And I ... need to know," he breathed, honestly, "you will be with me ... "
" ... I am."
"No, I meant ... " His nose to her neck-fur, now, breathing of her scent. " ... in heaven. I need to know you'll be with me ... "
"You are worried?"
"I am prey, even if I am frozen-over. I just need the comfort of knowing. Now that we've 'imprinted' on each other's souls, I just ... but I will not press you," he assured. "I do not want to press you."
"If I feel pressed," she assured, "you will know." The jaguar knew this was a bit tricky. A predator/prey, interspecies, interfaith marriage? "I wish to learn. That is why I mated you. Because you have things, believe in things ... that I admire. That I want. And not just physical. But, for now ... "
" ... darling," he breathed.
She shushed him. "For now, let us relax, mm?" A nuzzle. "Mm ... "
Taking a lazy breath, he nodded and repeated, "As I said: I've no objection ... to that ... "
" ... mm," she purred, kissing him again, pressing him to the couch-cushions. She was bigger. And she was stronger. And she made it abundantly clear, rumble-purring, grinding against him, naked and horny.
And all the worries, the concerns, everything that had been swirling around the snow rabbit's mind for the past hour suddenly faded, slipped away. 'Seriousness' was best left for another day.
Seriousness.
Seriously.
Segued to ...
... sex.
Heavy breathing on the jaguar's part.
The tip of the snow rabbit's pink member already pushing free of his fuzzy, white sheath, ticking upward with blood.
A nip to his neck-fur, biting his pelt so gently, gently. Just a bit. And growling as she did so.
His pulse picked up even more. He felt weak, his rabbit-hood fully grown between his legs, all seven inches of un-sheathed rabbit-hood. Throbbing, throbbing with sensitive need, making him give a few mews.
Moist between the legs, she rolled away from him, off his body, off the couch, slinking across the carpet, slowly, on all fours. Her soft, spotted rump wiggling with the snaking motion of her calculated tail. A questioning 'mrowl,' paws clawing at the carpet. Claw-claw-claw. She was panting, waiting, ready for him.
He hesitated for just a moment, in a rising, heated haze, just watching her like hypnotized prey.
Her tail, ceasing all swaying, fully raised. An unmistakable, universal invitation. A male didn't need to be told what to do when a bare femme raised her tail.
A mew, a rustle, a shuffle.
A steamy hiss.
The rabbit off the couch, on all fours behind her, slipping up and over her backside, snow-white belly-fur to her spotted, orange-red-brown back-fur (so many rich, hot colors), hips bumping into her rump. A bit awkwardly, at first, due to over-eagerness. Which made Astrid chuckle to herself, recalling a common saying among femme predators: 'male prey have enough blood to operate their brain or their penis, but not both at once.'
A mew, and a dry hump, rabbit-hood sliding through her rump-fur. A shiver, trying to compose himself, trying to calm down. Enough, anyway, to successfully mount her. He slid back a bit, settling to his knees. And closed his eyes. His bobtail weakly flicked.
The jaguar, still on all fours, asked, "You okay back there?"
A weak nod, his paws on her hips. "Just ... I, uh, yes," he managed. "Yes," he breathed.
"You forget how it works?" A toothy, purring grin, feeling loose and easy.
"I ... I am well aware," he said, clearing his throat, "how it works. I just ... I just ... "
" ... oh," she realized, suddenly serious. "Oh, you need water."
A weak, panting nod, throat dry, eyes half-open.
"Oh, uh ... uh, got a water bottle, the one we used at lunch. On your desk. Should still have water in it," Astrid said, rising to her knees, shuffling to the desk, grabbing about in the dimness. Her eyes immediately seeing what she was looking for. And she came quickly back, handing him the water bottle. "I'm really," she breathed, "sorry. Russo ... "
A gulp, gulp, gulp of water, suckling it from the 'nipple' of the bottle, and then sighing, paw dropping. Fingers securing the 'nipple,' rolling the bottle aside. It stopped in front of the couch.
"I'm sorry," the feline repeated, ears flattening atop her head.
"For what?" he managed, energy coming back. Re-hydrated.
"I was teasing you, and ... you needed water, and I didn't notice." A pause, shaking her head, looking out the windows. "As a predator, I shouldn't let such details escape my attention. I was ... " She looked back at him. " ... distracted."
"I was, too," he assured. "Else I would've gotten the water before we started. I just got carried away before I realized I needed it."
"I forget, sometimes, how delicate prey are. How much care you require."
"You do not require care?" he asked, not believing that.
"That is one of those 'deep,' psychological issues ... which we have no time for," she said, skirting the topic. Taking a huge breath, giving a blunt but tender, "I would like to breed, please."
"Well, since you said 'please' ... "
" ... mm, mustn't forgo niceties. For I do appreciate ... "
His paws slid all over her back, rubbing, caressing.
" ... your abilities. And ... ah, I ... uh ... "
The snow rabbit, with his buckteeth, nibbled on the nape of her neck. "I told you these were good," he breathed, "for more than food ... " Nib-nibble-nibble.
A hazy purr.
Still using his muzzle on her neck, but also moving his hips, his tip poking into her velvety, tropical sex, which seemed to pulse with heat, which seemed so, so slick, such a friction. Such a delightful ... " ... oh. Oh ... " Her walls smothered his flesh.
She meowed and arched her back.
He was forced to arch with her, being that his belly was pressed to her back. And he gave a rabbit-huff, bobtail flickering behind him. A happy sound, ears waggling. And, adjusting to the sweetness of penetration, he pulled his hips back, then plunged them forward. Going into motion. And repeating it, repeating it, until he found a steady, loving rhythm, working her body. One of the nice things about breeding, the snow rabbit thought to himself, is that, to pleasure yourself, you have to pleasure your partner. My thrusts give me pleasure, but they give her pleasure, too. Such a mutual, symbiotic act.
Such poetry.
A heavy breath from her, and a long, lazy meow.
One of his paws, wrapped round her belly, had slid down, down, a finger lightly touching her clitoris. "Ah, ah," she breathed, sizzling with pleasure, her walls rippling lightly.
His body gently rocked into hers, swollen, tightened sac, furry and tufted, snugging to her petal-lips with each thrust. And pulling back, a bit damp with her juices, with each retreat. His penis tingled with sparking sensitivity, and he moaned a bit, panting, tail flicker-flicker-flicking.
Her thighs became increasingly hot, hot. Hotter. Body writhing in jungle-like bliss.
Soft, driving thrusts.
Her head hanging from being filled like this, played like this. Like she was a violin, and he was the bow. Playing her strings. Making music together. Astrid giving a meowing, sustained note whenever he brushed a really good spot.
He bred her in the dimness.
Her claws dug into the carpet. The last time she'd moaned, he'd taken note of it, and he'd begun sliding his rabbit-hood slowly over that extra-sensitive spot, back and forth, making her stretch, making her open her big, toothy jaw, making her meow, her tail wavering, vagina rippling, rippling ...
... he hung his head, forehead to her nape, as he smoothly, confidently brought her to orgasm. He flushed, panting, feeling her spasm even before the deflating hisses and pleasured growls. A few, weak bucks, a few, finishing humps, and ...
... she panted. "Ahnn, ah ... oh." A hiss. Wracked with pleasure, and feeling his body tense, tense. And then go limp on her back. She was strong enough to hold the weight, and she purred as he came.
Weak, bewildered mews of pleasure, penis twitching, spurt-spurting steamy-white rabbit-seed right at her womb. "Uh, uh ... ohnn ... " A singular rabbit-bark, fur matted with sweat. "Oh ... " Delightful, familiar shivers of lightning-like ejaculations, her coated walls seeming to milk him, urging him, tricking him into giving every last drop of semen. The excess of which already began to drip from the spot of their union, clinging to his sac-fur, dribbling to the carpet.
"Russo," was the hot, heavy pant, after a few moments. Astrid shook her head, coming down from that physical high. She was still somewhat dazed, but was thinking clearly when she said one thing. Something that, only a short time ago, she couldn't have imagined herself saying. But something that felt so good to confess: "I love you."
A tender nibble to her shoulder, and a hug from behind. Closing his eyes and leaning his cheek on her back-fur. "As do I love you, as well, Astrid."
After a few more moments of panting, the feline added, "You were right."
"Mm?" he went, from the throat, as he dismounted, fishing for the water bottle. Already beginning to drain it dry. He flopped to a sit on his rump on the dim, carpeted floor.
A look to him, sitting on her own rump, just a foot or so away from him, her nose flooded with his scent. "Snow rabbits are 'sex experts'."
Am eye-smile, and a polite head-tilt. And a simple, grateful, "Thank you."
"So, what was it?" Theo asked, putting his pants back on, his tail swishing about, somewhat rudder-like. The muskrat's fur was damp. The power had been back on for about five minutes. The first thing they'd done was take a shower, so they could head on home without putting everyone's noses into a frenzy, being that they'd just bred. But, then, Theo was willing to bet that every-fur in the building had bred during that 'crash.'
Daisy, putting her bra back on, her bushy, luxurious squirrel-tail slightly-damp and smelling of strawberry-scented shampoo (specialized squirrel shampoo, meant for tails such as hers), tapped at a computer console on her desk. "Wire report says ... " A squint. " ... domestic terrorism threat. Isolationist cell. Apparently, they were upset the Federation agreed to renew relations with the High Command. And they knew a snow rabbit was stationed here, and ... " She looked to her husband. " ... wanted to blow him up."
"Russo was the target?" The muskrat blinked, whiskers twitching.
"Well, Federation security stopped the whole thing. Computer says it's 'all clear'." A pause, turning the console off. "They would've killed the rest of to get to him. I mean, the fact that they wanted to kill him is bad enough, but ... " A shake of the head. " ... And we're the ones they're trying to 'protect' by opposing the treaty? They protect us by killing us? That's a new one." The grey squirrel met her husband's eyes.
"Don't try and make sense of it, darling. We're all safe. We can go home," Theo said. "That's all that matters." A tender smile, and a whispered, "Gonna finish dressing? Can't leave the office 'til you do."
"I'm gonna finish," she assured, flagging her tail playfully. And, also, to help dry it quicker. "I just like to take my time. Like to give you something to look at."
The muskrat chittered. "Well, dressed or not, wet or dry, near or far, you're burned into my mind, darling. I'm looking at you with my eyes closed, and I'm looking at you in my dreams. And I'm not tired of you yet. So, if you want me to stare some more? I'd be glad to."
Daisy giggle-chittered, whiskers twitching and agile body bobbing on her foot-paws. "You make a femme giddy with words like that!" she accused.
And the muskrat, padding forward, planted a kiss on her cheek. "Good," he whispered into her ear, grabbing her rump.
A squeak, and a returned kiss. "We better stop fooling around. Better drag our tails on home."
"Mm-hmm," Theo went, nuzzling her neck, and then taking a step back. And opening his arms, waiting for her to get dressed.
And Daisy eyed her husband, smiling, and putting her clothes back on.
Until they were both ready.
Until they both left the office paw-in-paw.
As if the security breach had never happened.
For love and hope were too powerful to succumb to mere 'crashes.'