An Ear for Dancing
"Sorry, I'm ... so clumsy," Field whispered. Apologizing, looking down to his own foot-paws. Which were bare and on the sky-blue carpet. In the shadows. The room lit by a lamp, looking like some kind of evening-land.
"You're not."
He looked back up. Smiled lightly.
"You're the one who suggested we dance," the rabbit, Aria, reminded him.
"Wouldn't be the first time," Field told her, "that love made a fool of me."
A slight giggle on her part. "Meaning?"
"Meaning, I'm ... I don't dance. I just ... never have, but ... I want to dance with you. So, even if I trip over myself ... "
She giggled, biting her lip.
" ... and even if I make a fool of myself, I'm gonna try."
"Yeah?" She smiled brightly.
He nodded, nodded. Nose and whiskers twitching. And sniffing.
"Well, there's a good mouse," she whispered teasingly, standing right in front of him. Paws on his sides.
The mouse breathed, taking one of her paws gently in his. Hesitating.
"Not used to leading, I take it?"
"Well, I've ... never danced," he said, blushing.
"You mentioned that," she whispered. "That's not what I meant."
He met her eyes. Blushed. And slowly shook his head. "No, I'm not used to ... leading." His eyes darted submissively. "I already ... you already know that," he said quietly.
"Look at me," she whispered.
His eyes roved.
"Field."
They stopped. Stopped on hers, so that their gazes were locked.
"We'll just ... figure it out as we go, okay? Just ... I don't want either of us to be uncomfortable. We'll learn with each other."
"Alright," he whispered back.
"But, to be honest, I've ... never really danced, either. Not in a proper, romantic way, so I ... I couldn't tell you what we're supposed to be doing here," she admitted.
They were standing between the television (on its rickety stand) and the coffee table (with its top stained with circles left from condensation-wetted cups).
Aria cleared her throat. Took a deep breath, her ears going ... waggle-waggle. Wiggle-waggling.
Field smiled at her ears.
She smiled at his. For his went ... swivel-swivel. And she put her muzzle to one of his ears, leaning in close, whispering, "I bet ... "
"What?"
"I bet you have an ear fetish," she whispered. Into his ear. Breath soft and moist. Quiet and tender.
He swallowed. "I don't know."
"Well, you either do," she said, muzzle still in his right ear, "or you don't."
The mouse blushed, paws on her hips. Both of them standing, upright, in the position to take a slow dance, but not dancing. Still not dancing.
"You can admit it. I want to ... know about you," she told the mouse. "Your tics. Your quirks. Your ... wants."
Field blushed again. Ears flushing warmer, a deeper shade of pink.
"I'll tell you one of my fetishes ... if you tell me one of yours."
"Well, I don't," Field stammered, "know that I even ... have any. I don't ... "
"Everyone does. At least one or two. Everyone ... has something." A smile, and she pulled her muzzle away from his ear. And moved her nose to his. His nose was twitching and sniffing, and ... his tail was snaking about. And her paw went for it. Held it like holding a rope. "Mm?" she prodded.
Field licked his dry lips. Let out a breath. "I wanna dance," he whispered.
"Neither of us knows how to dance."
"Well ... we can make it up," he offered lamely. "We can just ... sway. I just wanna sway."
"Sway," she echoed (at a whisper), and nodded, and ... wrapped her arms around his chest. His middle, and she rocked this way, and that way.
And Field closed his eyes, and they swayed in a slow, slow circle.
"You know what I think?" she said, eyes closed, head now leaning on the mouse's shoulder.
"Mm?" he went, nose in her fur. Breathing out and in.
"I think," she said, opening her eyes halfway. "That you're ... you're handsome as a magazine."
The mouse giggled airily, biting his lip. "Yeah?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Is that ... I guess that's ... "
"A compliment, yes."
"Never been told that before. Never ... never heard that before."
"You have now," was her response.
He nodded lightly.
They continued swaying.
She sighed. A nice, soft sigh. "Maybe," she whispered, "the night will keep you here 'til tomorrow?"
"Hmm?"
Her turn to blush. "I was ... it was my poetic way of wondering ... if you would stay the night? It just sounded a sweeter way to ask it."
"Oh."
Aria went quiet.
"I ... yeah. I will."
She flushed with happiness. "Alright." And there was a pause. And a little giggle.
"What?" Field asked, paws in the middle of her back. Running up and down.
"Nothing. I just ... you're more timid than you need to be."
The mouse didn't understand. He didn't understand what that meant.
"You have a way with words," she told him. "You have deep thoughts, vibrant feelings ... lurking in those eyes. And ... you have a poetry about you. But you let your shyness dilute it. You don't shine it as brightly as you should."
Field wasn't sure what to say with that.
"If you could just relax, if I could just get you to relax ... I know you would glow," she whispered, kissing the side of his neck. "I know you have the capacity."
Field blushed, feeling warm. Feeling flushed. Tilting his neck at the kiss, and running his paws back to her sides. The fur of her sides. Up, up ... and down, down.
"Field ... "
"Yes?"
"I need to ... lay down," she said.
"Um ... "
"Mm?" she went, breathing out onto his neck. Out. In. Breathing. Her breath so warm.
"Okay," he said, a bit hazy. And he nodded, nodded. "Okay," he repeated.
And the mouse waltzed them dizzily to the couch, where they effortlessly sank down. To a lie-down. To the cushions. Where they effortlessly got bare.
And where the rabbit whispered, muzzle back to the mouse's ear, "I bet you have an ear fetish."
He blushed again.
And she didn't wait for any sort of response. Didn't wait for a yes or a no, just ... went for it. For his ear. And nibbled with her lips along the edges. The mouse had pink and thin ears, big, swiveling ears. Like little satellite dishes. And she nibbled along the edges.
Field closed his eyes and sighed.
"Don't worry," she whispered between nibbles. "You can have a go at mine ... when I'm done with yours."
The mouse only squeaked ... for his ears were flushing warmer, hotter with blood. Getting more sensitive as she nibbled. As she licked toward the middle. The inside and the outside. As she made little murrs and lapine purrs ... that vibrated there. And that seemed to soothe him. Sensual, non-verbal lullabies.
Soon, Field, eyes watered shut, started to squirm ... to squeak, and ... he whimpered for her to stop.
She kept going. But only for a few seconds more. Only to keep him on edge. And then she pulled back, panting, and nodded down at him. "You have erogenous ears, darling."
He blushed.
She giggled. And whispered, "No reason to be embarrassed by that. Mice have sensitive ears, is all." Pause. "They're cute, you know."
He smiled bashfully.
"They too sensitive?"
"Um ... they're fine. They're ... fine," he breathed.
She moved to a straddling position. Straddling him. Waggled her thinner, longer ears at him. "My ears are sensitive, too," she said.
"Yeah?" he whispered.
She nodded.
"I can't ... reach them. You're on top of me."
A silly giggle. "Yeah," was all she said.
He met her eyes. Wanting to giggle. But holding it back. Smiling brightly, and saying, "We were gonna dance."
"We danced on over to here, and ... we're taking a break," she informed him.
"We're both bad dancers." He was smiling widely.
"I would much rather sway," she said, "than dance, anyway ... sway at our own pace. Our own ... just sway," she whispered, leaning down. To kiss him. To be nearer to him.
And, upon her leaning down, he latched his arms and paws around her back, and he tilted his head ... and started gnawing on the tips of her hanging ears.
She gave a little squeal.
"Gotcha," Field whispered. Gnawing. Gently, gently gnawing. Nibbling on her ears, and then ... sucking on the tips of them. Breathing out into them.
She exhaled deeply. "Looks like it ... " She breathed. Shivered a bit.
Field worked on one ear. And then the other.
And, both of them breathing faster, both of their hearts at a rising pitter-patter, they fell into little, eager kisses. Airy kisses. To the cheeks. The nose. The lips.
Breathless.
And the mouse, arching, felt her paw wrap around his mouse-hood. Felt her paw squeeze it, and ... give a tug. Field, eyes closed, panted, feeling more at ease. More at ease than he had in the longest time. And he relaxed, and he sighed.
And she kept pawing at him. Chittering into the fur on his chest, breathing, kissing, and then crawling up a bit. "D-darling," she stammered. Her paw still wrapped around his mouse-hood. Still holding.
He swallowed, needing no bidding ... to fumble his paws between her legs, to massage between her white, furry folds, and to gently worm his fingers to her opening. To poke one of them inside. And, with the other paw, to massage her lower belly, and then down, down ... trying to stimulate her most sensitive areas.
The rabbit arched, puffy, bob-like tail ... giving a single twitch.
The mouse's tail snaking about ... jerking, and then going still. Trailing off of the couch.
She pawed him ...
... and he slid his finger in and out of her, slowly, and ... moved his other paw up to her breasts, rubbing a thumb over one of her nipples.
She ran her own thumb over the back of the head of the mouse's member ... running the thumb right over the ridge on the back of the head. Back and forth, back and forth. Fingers sliding down the front of the length. Using the mouse's own pre as lubrication.
Field's fingers felt her faster. Went in and out ... faster. Rubbed her ... faster.
Soon, her paw nearly trembling as she worked him more and more. Closer and closer.
And it was the mouse who gave way first. He squeaked and wriggled a bit, and then ... breath staggering, gave a sharp, instinctual squeak. As his seed, wet, white, and warm ... shot to her paw. To her white fur.
The orgasm causing the mouse to work more hurriedly on her, desperate for her to feel the same, to join him in the sensation.
And she arched, closing her eyes, starting to rock on his fingers (for he was now using two), and she sighed heavily, almost flinching. Passage quivering.
And she hit hers.
And, for a moment, they lay still. Both of them with their eyes closed. And both of them breathing.
The mouse cleared his throat and shyly opened his eyes. "Mm ... " He was going to say something, but his words faltered. He wasn't sure what to say. Or that anything even needed to be said. He just looked to her lovingly.
And she looked back. And returned the smile. Eyes returning the same knowing affection.
The living room was quiet.
Finally, Aria, her voice wispy and weary, whispered, "Wanna ... waltz us to the shower?"
Field breathed out a giggle. Bit his lip. And nodded.
And did so.