Holiday Special
Mattias the mouse has his first holiday guest in a while.
Hey everybody! I decided I need to write something to celebrate Christmas, so I was all like, "nothing says Christmas like buttsex." So here we are. This story here could be considered sort of a sequel (that's a scary thought) to On Befriending Kobolds, which is found here: http://www.sofurry.com/view/390144. Mattias is so terrible at making platonic friends. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it and would love to read any comments you might have!
The abrupt appearance of snow outside of his windows marked the arrival of the most wonderful time of year. Mattias the mouse could not contain his excitement, and although he had very little, he went about decorating his humble woodland home. He strung about the brightly dyed strips of old cloth, set the pair of old knitted stockings to dangle from the mantlepiece. He even adorned the only door he had, the one that led outside, with an inviting wreathe of bells and pine needles.
He sang as he worked, the joyful carols half-remembered from a now distant life spent beyond the impregnable fortress of trees that surrounded him. Each one felt as hopeful and optimistic as the last, although he often had to improvise words when the memory failed him. In a way, that made each song seem that little bit better, perhaps even more special, as he was able to contribute his own lyrics to the occasional verse. The songs were all about sharing, mutual respect, love...
Although the snow often meant that he would see less and less of the numerous animals he cared for. In fact, despite Mattias' best efforts to make his home seem as inviting as it might possibly appear, he had never had a wintertime visitor. He didn't let that discourage him, of course, as every winter was a new winter. This one, he felt, would surely not be spent alone. So he set a lit candle atop each windowsill, just to make sure that his home wasn't missed by any old or hitherto unmet friends. They couldn't visit him if they couldn't see the house through the foggy weather outside, after all.
The little mouse didn't lack for work. Although he had few rooms, each needed to be perfectly tidy. He sorted away what he could and hid beneath his bed whatever he could not. Then he washed down each item of furniture not covered by an old tablecloth, swept up his floors, beat out his old rugs and even polished the frames of the paintings that dangled from his walls. He couldn't expect people to celebrate Yuletide in filthy conditions. People wanted to be surrounded by mirth, and that meant cleanliness! Perhaps that was why it was so quiet last year. Perhaps he didn't clean enough.
He only found himself able to pause in his otherwise ceaseless efforts to perfect his home when the sun started to set. The mouse placed a pot of water over his fireplace and watched the sun descend. There was a sigh brewing that he didn't wish to confess to, but nevertheless, it forced its way by his lips and carried with it the quiet realization that he may well be spending another Yuletide alone. After all, most of the animals slept, his kobold friend would be hibernating with the rest of his kind and nobody from the old world beyond the woods seemed to know where he was.
No. Somebody will visit, he promised himself. He couldn't have sour luck every year in a row. He went to fix a mug and cocoa, determined not to seep into any sort of sour mood. It was the season of rest and miracles. The season where the harvest was done and there was nothing to plant. The season where the snow formed curious mounds that appeared at times to be smiling, as though enjoying the display of peace and rest around them. He wouldn't allow himself to feel mopey during such a beautiful time. His pink tail flicked about behind him as he donned a smile and started, again, to sing the old songs.
One foot in front of the other. Don't pause. Ignore the cold. It only bites because it is allowed to. The fog is thick and it is difficult to see. The direction matters not. The woods are not infinite. Sometime, somewhere, a breach in the endless ocean of trees and bushes must appear. Continue. Persevere. Bare the cold.
He held the tattered old cloak tight around his form, doing his best to maintain control of his motions. The shivering was a weakness that had to be quelled out of him. A weakness that would not be tolerated by any of his ilk. In a way, it was fortunate that he was alone, as the ridicule he would be subject to would undoubtedly sting far more than any chilling wind. Yet despite this, he found himself longing for the familiar faces, the sun-touched waters and the old warmth of home.
He became dimly aware of an orange glow through the fog. It did not pierce through, but rather, cast a muffled ring of illumination. Could it be shelter? A hallucination? Some manner of trap? It mattered not. It was a destination he could see. A goal that appeared more attainable than the yet undiscovered end to the infinite ring of woodlands. The encouragement provided by the sight allowed him to speed his exhausted legs, carrying himself with the same determination that had thus far allowed him to survive the cold and unfamiliar environs.
A fierce howl cutting through the budding night, as well as a malevolent rustling through the nearby bushes, provided the last little bit of motivation he needed to attempt to run. His head throbbed from lack of sleep and overexertion, yet he managed a struggling imitation of running nonetheless. His hand went to his belt and drew out the sword that rested there, the leather straps of the hilt freezing against his palm. He drew nearer and nearer to the orange light.
Around him, he saw twin silvery-yellow orbs. Reflective eyes watching him, waiting for the moment he abandoned his guard completely. Or the moment when the cold overtook him, and he fell tumbling down into unconsciousness. Neither would occur. He was not weak. He would never die in such a pitiable way. He shook the encroaching ebb of sleep from his head fiercely, striding on with a feral growl brewing in his throat. Let the creatures that watched him come. Let them offer him a death worthy of a warrior.
But none did. He felt them around him, heard them behind him. The moments of which he was aware illustrated a number of hunters, perhaps four or five, cunningly positioning themselves as they followed. Wolves, most likely, or something more sinister. He felt relief as he reached the source of the light, a small window in the wooden log wall of a cottage. Through the window, he saw a figure inside, small and wrapped in a cloak or blanket. It knelt before a fire and stared into a steaming mug. A creature like that would stand no match for his sword if it thought to deny him shelter. He would never harm the creature, of course, but intimidating it was another matter. That fire assured him that this was shelter worth seizing.
The armed man circled the cottage until he found a veranda. Sickly-looking vines entwined the support beams, looking as ill as he must have due to the cold. On the door was some strange ring adorned with little copper bells and red ribbons. The ring itself was made from pines and twigs, like an odd bird's nest with no center. He raised a fist and pounded it against this quaint thing, causing a jingling as well as a series of thuds. His opposite hand still clutched tight to his sword.
Mattias' heart leaped again. He had imagined a few knocks at his door, but this one sounded different. It sounded particular. The mouse cautioned himself against getting too excited, lest he suffer disappointment again, as he eagerly climbed up to his feet. "Coming, just a minute," he called out as he hurried through to the hallway. He was afraid that whoever might be at the door would leave before he even said hello.
The mouse fumbled some with the lock. The key was old and worn, and the lock itself an ancient, battered contraption he had found lost amidst the trees well after he found the cottage. It had never been the most functional thing. But now, although he had battled with it a million or more times in order to leave his home, he felt that the struggle were more intense. That every second he spent attempting to open the door was a second of offense against whoever might be on the other side, lessening their chances of staying to keep him company through the snow. He only wanted a little chat.
What he received, as he finally managed to swing the door open, was the brief sight of an imposing figure he didn't recognize. The stranger was easily a foot taller, and appeared to be clad in strange, protective clothing. It shoved its way by him, forcing itself inside. Mattias would likely have protested had he not seen the sword the stranger was carrying. Instead, he only watched as this towering, likely dangerous man shuffled down the mouse's cozy little hallway and in toward the fireplace.
Mattias spent a moment or two pondering. He wasn't familiar with this strange guest of his. This strange guest who, by the look of it, could hurt him very easily. He could venture out into the woods in order to find protection, maybe even attempt to alert Thirifax or one of the other quaint friends he had accumulated over the years. But then, wasn't this precisely what he wanted? Somebody to sit by the fire with? Surely it would be foolish to wander off into the snow alone, risking getting eaten by any number of predators, just because of a poor first impression. No, he decided. He would give this odd new man a chance.
The mouse closed and locked his door again. Then, slowly, he made his way down the hall and toward the open passage that led into his sitting room. Peeking around the corner warily, he saw the strange figure had sheathed his sword and now stood before the fire, dripping a small puddle from the melting snow that covered his shoulders and cloak. The cloak itself was a red hue, trimmed with a mottled fur Mattias could not recognize regardless of his familiarity with numerous kinds of animal.
The clothing his strange guest wore appeared to be a suit of thin boiled leather strips. Armor which coated his torso and most of his thick arms. Although the armor made a certain sense to Mattias, he found he couldn't quite recall seeing much like it before. The kobolds sometimes wore the hides of animals to protect themselves, but this was something that appeared much better made. Much like the sword he held, which appeared more like a storybook artwork than the crude, twisted weapons he had encountered in the woods before.
The figure's features were coated with a sleek brown fur, which faded in color around the muzzle. Mattias could identify the creature as an otter, though he had not met one before. The books he read claimed that otters lived by the coasts, in far-removed seafaring cities. Hesitantly, the little mouse rounded the corner entirely, padding his way toward the armored otter cautiously. He didn't know whether otters would speak the same language as he, so he ventured, in his quiet and meek voice. "What's an otter like you doing in a place like this?"
The armed otter's broad brown eyes set on Mattias, who paused in place. Mattias was sure that he must have appeared afraid, as he certainly was. He watched as the otter seemed to churn over the mouse's words, then as a curious smile spread across his whiskered features. The otter replied, "forgive, has been many years since spoke rodent. Have come in search of shelter. Pardon rudeness, yes?"
"Oh, I don't mind." Mattias, encouraged by the friendly reaction, huddled his way nearer. He craned his neck to peer up at his visitor, who only looked back with a a cordial curiosity. From all Mattias could see, fear and suspicion was not among the things the otter had displayed toward him. And it was no wonder. Mattias could see that the otter, who stood at least a foot above him, was also muscular and by all means a more powerful individual. Tentatively, the mouse offered, "my name is Mattias. It's nice to meet you." "Rhaum," the otter replied. He extended a broad, webbed paw, the gesture as sharp as the small claws at the end of each digit. Mattias hesitated a moment, before reaching one of his smaller, more fragile-seeming hands up to Rhaum's. The otter reached out further to seize Mattias' wrist, locking their hands in a tight warrior's bond. Mattias did his best not to wince under the pressure the otter exerted. It was clear to Mattias that the otter must have seen through the effort, as he added with another smile, "a fair arm you have, Mattias the rodent."
The mouse murmured a timid thank you. He spent another moment weighing options and attempting to predict consequences. The otter appeared only patient as he waited, peering down at the pensive mouse with the same smile creased across his maw. Mattias' hand was released, and Rhaum placed his so casually atop the pommel of his sword. It wasn't a threatening gesture, but it told the mouse that this otter had become so accustomed to wearing a weapon as to make it a part of his stance.
Mattias fidgeted as he stood, the silence growing awkward in his mind. He might have thought that the otter was mute, had he not heard Rhaum speak moments ago. Again reluctant and anxious, Mattias mumbled the offer, "you're welcome to stay here as long as you like. I have to admit, I've never seen a weapon like yours before." And he added, as an afterthought, "or a person like you."
The otter bowed his head just a bit further than was necessary to look at Mattias. The mouse understood this to be a display of respect, and didn't hesitate to respond in kind. A chuckle was elicited from Rhaum in response. "It is good that you say, Mattias. The reputation of rodents is of hospitality and generosity. And the reputation of I, and the people that birthed me? It is of vigilance and the settled ways, and in past of venturing and exploring."
With that, Rhaum reached up to unclasp his cloak. Although it was no longer covered with snow, the clothing remained damp. He started to fold it up in his arms, soon creating a bundle of soggy cloth. Mattias, without hesitation, reached up and took it from the otter. They exchanged a nod of understanding and a mutual smile, before Rhaum continued speaking. "And the sword? It is Ebenhardt, the blade of boars. An heirloom, yes?"
Mattias shuffled along, retrieving a contraption of horizontal sticks elevated atop four legs from the corner. He set the cloak out atop it, then dragged the whole of the thing over by the fire. As he did, he asked, "how come you're in the woods? I don't mean to be rude, but I always thought that otters liked the ocean. These woods aren't close to the ocean at all."
"Ah, but that is a tale, yes? It is warm clothes that are needed, if any are to be spared. And then we will sit and we will speak of tales, mm?"
Rhaum counted his blessings as he dismantled his damp, freezing armor. Mattias the rodent had displayed the kindness and compassion he had come to expect from much of mousekind. Inviting him inside a warm cottage, which for some reason or another had been decorated with curious little things that the otter could only explain away as part of some curious western mousan religion. They had a tendency for such things, he mused. The invention of odd new customs that defied the ways of the Great Ones.
The mouse had offered him clothing and the privacy to dress. Yet, as he appraised each clearly hand-made garment with his webbed fingers, he found that not a single one would fit him. It was to be expected, of course, when he considered the significant differences between their sizes. "Mattias," he called out, hearing an eager scurrying outside of the bedroom. There was no door connecting it to the next room, as indeed Mattias' house had no doors save the front.
"Yes? Is everything alright?" The mouse had raised his voice to the loudest Rhaum had thus far heard, only barely audible from the other room. Rhaum couldn't help but chuckle. In his time, he had met quite a few courageous and confident mice. It was refreshing to see that some timidness yet inhabited the diminutive creatures.
The otter responded, "the clothing is unfit for an otter's form. It is well if I wear nothing at all? Or, if it is preferred, I may wear the blanket as clothes."
There was a predictable pause from Mattias, which only drew out yet another chuckle from the otter. No doubt the little mouse was feeling hot in the face over the offer of nudity. As expected, the near frightful reply resounded through the empty doorway just as the pause came to border on awkward. "You can wear what you like. I don't mind. I, um, I'd just like you to be comfortable is all."
Rhaum neatly stripped the mouse's bed of one of its blankets, coiling it about his shoulders much like a cloak. He let it fall about him as it pleased without any thought for modesty. He wandered out of the bedroom to find Mattias waiting for him by the passage that connected it to the sitting room. The little mouse stared at him for yet another stretch into an awkward amount of time, before the otter opted to simply wander on back to the fireplace. "Come," he instructed, his tone friendly despite the comment. "It is time we sat and shared stories, yes?"
The mouse scurried along behind him and the two settled down by the fire, beside the rack that held Rhaum's cloak. Rhaum wore his smile still, watching the mouse as the mouse instead chose to observe the fire. The refreshing shyness was somehow appealing. Other mice might have taken this as an opportunity to discuss their family history or gossip about the politics of their neighborhood. To have a quiet audience was something that Rhaum always enjoyed.
"You wished for the tale of how I came to be in your home, woodmouse?" Mattias offered a glance and a small nod. The mouse twisted about where he knelt, pulling up his own blanket from the floor and draping it about his shoulders again. The two sat facing one another, clad in bedding and exchanging curious looks. Rhaum knew he was a strange thing to the mouse. And now that the otter gave it some thought, he decided that it was strange for such a creature to be living in a forest filled with wolves by his lonesome. He ventured, "I offer it in return for your tale. We will each tell of how we came to be in the woods, yes?"
"Your story will be more exciting than mine," Mattias replied earnestly. He toyed with his blanket some, giving the rug a look. "I'll tell you if you would like to hear it, but please, tell me yours first."
The otter nodded, satisfied. "Very well. It is a simple thing. The way of my clan has become to be sedentary. They live in but one place, swim but one water. They say that although home is not perfect, there can be no better place. It is perhaps so. But the place they live, the home, is too far from perfection for I. It is a place tinged of bloodshed and..."
Rhaum paused, noting the strange surprise in Mattias' big blue eyes. There was a certain disapproval, a cringe at the word 'bloodshed.' He considered ending his story now, but decided against it. The mouse had asked for an explanation. The otter continued, "grief. When we arrived on that coast, it was home to owls. The horrid creatures abducted some few of our clan, and our oaths compel us not to leave a-one behind. And so it is arms that we took, swords like Ebenhardt and his sister, Reinvryn, to mete justice and save our missing ilk."
Mattias appeared conflicted. The mouse wore a mixture of interest and distaste on his pallid features. It was clear to Rhaum that the violence was what the mouse objected to, and yet he had said nothing of it. The otter went on. "The fighting was bitter and many died. Among them, a lover of mine, who was but strong and boar-headed. Ebenhardt was of his family, passed now to I. When the fighting was ended, the owls fled. The clan was so weakened that the elders looked unto our coast and decided, 'yes, here is a good land. We will settle and build.'
I do not think it is a good land. Maybe it is the heart of a wanderer in I, or maybe it is the familiar blood that the land is now built upon. But I have left to find a better land. A place I may show unto my people that they will move from the Shore of Owls and build elsewhere. It is why I am here, Mattias the rodent, for I seek what is on the other side of your wood." The otter wore his smile until the conclusion, at times with fondness for the recollection, at others with insincerity.
Mattias' countenance shifted from disapproving to mortified, from that to remorseful. He murmured an almost inaudible, but nonetheless genuine "I'm sorry." He remained where he was for a moment, before finding himself compelled to inch nearer and nearer to the otter, who only watched on in curiosity. When he was finally near enough, the little mouse reached his arms up and enfolded the otter in a gentle, but uncouth hug. It was the otter's turn to hesitate, before he placed his webbed hands on the mouse's back to return the embrace.
"It is not sympathy that I want for," the otter said in a reassuring tone as they parted. "You had shown me an open door and asked me a question. It is only honorable that it is answered truthfully, yes?"
"It's just such a sad thing. None of my lovers have ever died, only... Wandered away, I suppose." Mattias fumbled with his blanket again, kneeling just inches away from the imposing otter warrior. He saw the otter nod before he lowered his eyes.
"A sad thing. Sonlonir is with me in Ebenhardt. He is dead, but he has yet to wander away. To have a lover leave completely is more difficult, yes?"
"I suppose," Mattias murmured. He thought briefly of Thirifax, the kobold he had found alone in the woods, and the surreal relationship that had spawned as a consequence. "But not all of them leave completely. It's, um, much less simple than that. You wanted to know why I'm in the woods now, didn't you?"
While Mattias hoped that his shifting of the subject hadn't seemed too abrupt, he saw the otter nod. That smile never left. The mouse had begun to find it comforting. Rhaum was certainly powerful, being so much larger and indeed the veteran of at least one great battle. That he remembered to smile somehow reassured Mattias that the warrior did indeed have some empathy and concern for others buried in him. Why else would he bother to attempt to look disarming? Of course, no suspicious motive entered Mattias' mind.
The mouse cleared his throat and, not for a moment ceasing in his anxious shuffling and fidgeting, started to recount his own story. "I used to live on a farm. I had a pa, a ma and brothers... But, um, I suppose we were always a little unlucky. We never really had much food after each harvest, and not many people from the town really wanted to buy it. It was always small and a little bit sickly. They told me never to worry about things like that though. That it would always work out if you just keep from giving in."
Mattias cast a swift look up to Rhaum. He saw that the otter's smile had disappeared, and took it for disapproval. Butterflies started to flutter about in his stomach, but he knew well enough how to ignore them. By now, Mattias' butterflies were old, irksome friends with a habit of showing up at the worst of times. The mouse looked back down again, as it was easier to mumble when he could pretend he didn't have eyes on him. "One year, the harvest was particularly bad. We didn't really have enough to feed ourselves..."
"But it was alright," the mouse continued, drawing up a smile. He looked up to Rhaum again to share that smile. He saw one start to spread on the otter's features. Rhaum appeared relieved, if dubious. "Because one of the woodsfolk, the old shamans, he came to our door. He told my family that if they sent one of their sons off to become one of the woodsfolk, our family would never have a poor harvest again. They'd be fed that year and every year after, too."
"Your family has sold you?" Rhaum interrupted. The frown had spread across his features. Indignant and more passionate than the expressions Mattias had thus far seen him wear. "Hrmph. It is protection I offer you, Mattias the rodent, for slavery is an evil that is not for I to abide."
Mattias hastily shook his head. The little mouse felt his hands move and didn't recall willing them to do so. He clutched one of Rhaum's hands between his own, holding onto it gently. The mouse smiled up at the scowling otter. "They asked me if I wanted to leave, and I said yes. I was happy to help my family. I love my life now, too. The only things I'm forced to do would be to stay in the woods and tend the creatures, things I would do anyway. I would make this same choice again and again, Rhaum, really. You don't need to be angry."
The otter coiled his webbed fingers around one of Mattias' hands, his anger gradually visibly dissipating. Mattias placed his opposite hand over those fingers. "Thank you for offering to help me, but the only thing I really miss is having company," the mouse reassured him. He appeared to possess the confidence of most mice in his reaction to a big warrior showing a moment of outrage. Rhaum admired the little mouse's reaction, even if that courage was soon replaced with another shy stare down at their entwined hands.
"I am not helping with the lack of company now, Mattias the rodent? With the fireside tales of woods and families?" Rhaum donned his smile again, this time curiously. Mattias appeared to panic at that, hastily looking back up to the otter with a mix of surprise and embarrassment painted on his face.
"I didn't mean, um, well - you're lovely company. I really have enjoyed talking to you and I'd really love to --"
Rhaum interrupted Mattias again by reaching out the webbed hand that hadn't been claimed between two sets of mousan fingers. The otter warrior rested his hand on Mattias' cheek for a moment, before rubbing it down to rest on Mattias' shoulder. "You decorate your home with displays that are strange and joyful. It is that you have no company to take joy in the reason for decorating?"
Mattias appeared surprised, both with the contact of the webbed hand and the accuracy of Rhaum's observation. The little mouse only nodded, finding that with Rhaum's hand clasped gently over his shoulder, words were difficult to come by. The otter left his hand as it was for a little longer, peering closely at Mattias, before he drew the hand away. He reached down to his chest, where he parted the blanket he wore along the middle, exposing his chest, abdomen and crotch to Mattias. "I offer to celebrate with you in the way of my clans, if it is your wish," Rhaum offered.
The mouse stared, blue eyes growing even further in size. This felt far too sudden to him, though he did note such was becoming something of a theme in his life. Surely it was a joke. He asked, "what about Sonlonir?" And he added to that internally, what about Thirifax? Would the kobold care if he accepted the otter's offer? The kobold wasn't exactly the easiest individual for him to predict and understand, but he did say he considered Mattias a sort of property.
Rhaum dissuaded his worrying with that ceaseless, gentle smile. "It is the way of different people to hold different meanings to this act. For I, it is a meaning of friendship and closeness. Such was Sonlonir's way, as it is the way of our clan. Ebenhardt bonds us, but we had many we were chose to be close with in such friendship, yes? I would be so close with you, Mattias the rodent."
Mattias felt a swell in his head. He closed his eyes for a moment, as though to see and arrange his thoughts, before opening them again. He looked over the exposed parts of Rhaum, eying the otter's muscled chest. There was a series of three scars running across it, all close together and running in the same diagonal pattern. No doubt a reminder from the otter's past battles. The otter's abdomen was muscled as well. And, the part Mattias found most distracting, the large flaccid member and sac beneath it. When the mouse next tried to speak, he found his voice wouldn't come to him.
The otter leaned forward, placing a kiss on the mouse's lips. At first Mattias didn't respond, still surprised by the unexpected offer. But after a moment of feeling the otter's larger tongue run over his lips, Mattias parted them to feel that tongue slide into his mouth. He felt one of the otter's hands come to rest on the back of his neck, where its fingers pressed into him and rubbed small circles, massaging throughout.
The warrior was the one to pull away, shrugging off and discarding the blanket that had been around his shoulders. Mattias spent another moment looking him over, seeing the taut, compact muscle flex in Rhaum's arms as he moved. There were more scars, seen as brief abrasions in the otter's slick brown fur. The mouse placed a small hand on one of them, appearing at once sympathetic. Rhaum took the hand in his own and led it down to his rising shaft. Mattias encircled it with his fingers and started to stroke.
Something of a growl crossed with a purr escaped Rhaum's throat. His smile had a lust to it now, with his teeth showing and his eyes half-lidded. He leaned in to kiss Mattias again as he rolled his hips forward into the mouse's hand. Mattias returned the kiss with building enthusiasm. He felt the shaft become rigid in his hand. The mouse squeezed the bulbous head of it, excited by the size. It was an inch or more longer than his own, and certainly much wider.
It was Rhaum who broke the kiss again. He pressed his forehead against Mattias', looking into the mouse's eager blue eyes. The otter muttered, "it is I who will take you." His tone offered no suggestion that this would be subject Mattias could debate. Feeling the sheer mass of the otter's member in his hand prompted him to try, not to mention the strength with which the otter could clearly use it.
"But you're so much bigger. How will we make it fit without hurting?"
"Fetch what oil you have and return without your clothes, Mattias the rodent. It is a lesson that I will give unto you," Rhaum replied, before placing another, much briefer kiss on the mouse's lips. He took the mouse's hand from his crotch and shooed Mattias off. The mouse moved away hastily, shuffling out of the room and into the bedroom. Rhaum watched the tent in the front of his pants as he went.
While Mattias was rummaging through his bedroom in search of a suitable lubricant, Rhaum set to folding the blankets atop each other. He moved the cloak-drying rack away and made a small bed by the fire, occasionally pausing to stroke his eager member. His webbed hand was clasped about his shaft when Mattias entered the room again, now naked and carrying a small jar of some clear substance. At the sight of nude mouse, Rhaum's breath hitched and his shaft emitted a drop or two of precum.
Mattias' figure was slender and demure. He appeared fragile and feminine to the otter warrior. His narrow chest and belly ran down to a cock that stood proudly erect, smaller than the otter's, but appearing handsomely proportionate to the mouse's miniscule body. The short and fuzzy fur, like the otter's, allowed for the distinct lines of small muscle to be made out. Rhaum extended his arms in invitation to the mouse, who scampered to join him on the bed of blankets.
The mouse knelt before him as he sat, and the two locked lips again. Rhaum reached around to Mattias' back, feeling his way along the mouse's fur, until he reached the two mounds of flesh propped up by Mattias' ankles. Mattias wasted no time in placing his hand around Rhaum's shaft again, seeming almost obsessed with it now. His fingers explored every inch and crevice, running up along the underside from base to tip. They ran over the spot that joined the very head to the shaft again and again, causing the otter to gasp into their kiss. Rhaum hefted Mattias up and gripped the mouse's bottom.
As the otter squeezed and kneaded his butt, Mattias moaned. The otter instructed, "use your oils," and the mouse made to do so. He started to spread the contents of the small jar over Rhaum's swollen cock, stroking along it swiftly. The mouse knew to be gratuitous with the amount he applied. After all, with this shaft going where he both thought it would and wanted it to, he had no reason to be sparing.
One of the otter's hands left Mattias' bottom for a moment. It scooped up a but of lubricant and returned to probe between the two cheeks, a finger pressing firmly and rubbing circles against the mouse's opening. Mattias drew the deepest breath he could, relaxing as much as he might as he exhaled. He felt the finger press into him and arched his back, his hand leaving Rhaum's shaft as a consequence. The finger continued inward, occasionally pulling back and renewing its invasion, until Rhaum was able to bury it in all the way.
Mattias placed his hands on the otter's shoulders for support, shuffling in to press his dangling shaft against the otter's chest. Rhaum suckled on Mattias' belly as he jerked a finger back and forth inside of the mouse. He savored the whimpering moan he heard as he added a second finger to the opening passage. The mouse's fingers dug into his shoulders and the rough jerks against Rhaum's chest became harder, more insistent, as Rhaum stretched and stroked his fingers about inside of him.
Rhaum interjected by pulling his fingers out, stroking them down along Mattias' thigh. The panting mouse peered down at him with a broad, enthusiastic smile, having thrown his worries to the wind. The otter shuffled about to lie on his back beneath Mattias, who in turn shimmied along until his bottom was pressed against the otter's erect member and his shaft against the fur above it. "Take your time," the otter suggested, reaching out to rub over Mattias' shoulders with his webbed hands.
The mouse gyrated back and forth, humping against Rhaum as the otter slowly stroked his hands along Mattias' sides. Soon the otter was massaging the cheeks of his bottom again, eliciting mewls of excitement from the mouse. Mattias left a trail of precum along Rhaum's abdomen. He started to murmur only half-comprehensible compliments and praises. The two locked eyes and, had Mattias' mouth not been agape, they'd have shared lustful grins.
Deciding that he needed more, Mattias knelt up again. He elevated himself on his knees and felt about until he found Rhaum's shaft. Holding it steady, he lowered himself down, pressing the head of it against his loosened opening. Despite the ministration's of Rhaum's fingers, the size was still a feat to overcome. Mattias breathed slowly and relaxed, bobbing gently against the head of Rhaum's shaft. For his part, the warrior didn't thrust up. He stroked and massaged the insides of Mattias' thighs, patiently waiting for that wonderful moment of penetration.
It came when Mattias, relaxed and ready, put his weight behind his descent. He felt the shaft spread him open even further, even cringed at the sensation. But, determined to feel all of Rhaum inside of him, the mouse started to bounce gently on his knees again. Rhaum reached up to the mouse's chest, gently stroking his fingers over the tiny nipples he found buried in the white fur. He took to murmuring, "there is no rush. We may do this all night. Mh, it is so tight. You are so beautiful, Mattias."
The mouse stared down at Rhaum. The firelight cast shadows over most of him, illuminating the rest in homely orange. Their eyes remained locked as Mattias slowly drove his way down along the otter shaft inside of him. The mouse moaned and gasped each time the shaft met one of the pleasurable little spots, until he reached the particular one inside the mouse. Then, Mattias cried out, reaching down to grip his own bobbing shaft and bouncing on Rhaum's with more speed to the motion.
Rhaum lowered his hands, placing one on Mattias' hip and using the other to move the mouse's hand away. The otter seized the mouse's cock, stroking it back and forth in unison with the rise and fall of the rest of the mouse. Mattias gradually made his way further down with each descent, moaning and whimpering each time, until Rhaum was all of the way in. Then, Mattias paused, panting and closing his eyes tightly to focus wholly on the sensation.
The otter murmured, his own breath hoarse from the mouse's achievement. "Well done. You are so, so beautiful..." As if to emphasize this, he raised his hips, moving the mouse along with them. Mattias took it as an indicator to start moving, and so he did, ascending and descending on the cock burrowed inside of him. He could feel every contour, every small bump, distinct and stroking its way through him. Both his shaft and the one within him leaked juices, both lovers moaning and gasping to Mattias' movements.
The mouse started to move forward and back as well as up and down, adding to the friction between them. He didn't rush, didn't pound himself down on the otter's cock. He quaked and shivered, his breath coming in shallow bursts as the otter started to move as well, rising to meet him on each descent. Rhaum started to stroke him faster, using a thumb to rub over the slick slit of his shaft with each swift caress. Struggling through his frantic breath, Mattias muttered, "Rhaum, I'm going to... I'm going..."
The otter saw the mouse's shaft spurt cum over his stomach, emitting another strange cross between growl and purr signifying his delight. The mouse's insides clamped down tightly around Rhaum's shaft in the height of his orgasm, though Mattias didn't stop moving. He started to bounce faster, feeling Rhaum's shaft stroke over his most sensitive areas again and again, drawing a loud, desperate cry from him. Rhaum thrust up into the fast-moving tightness, feeling his own climax fast approaching. As Mattias thrust his head back, Rhaum drove his member in completely, bursting his own orgasm inside of the mouse. Mattias trembled with pleasure, feeling his insides flood with warmth throughout the afterglow of his own orgasm.
When it ended, both of them were still panting. Mattias knelt atop Rhaum, both of them with eyes locked and exhausted, cheerful smiles on their faces. Mattias mumbled, "happy Yuletide."
Rhaum stayed with Mattias throughout the winter, sharing plenty of stories of all the things he and his otter clan had seen. Mattias listened to each with rapt attention, even to the ones that featured Sonlonir and the battles the nomadic clan had endured. For the first time in years, Mattias had all he really wanted. A winter celebration sharing stories around a fire with a friend.