Every Hour Here
"Shuttle-pod One, you're clear for launch ... wish I were going with you," said the voice over the comm. Sounding a bit hollow, as comm voices always did. But there was something else there. Something frailer. Ketchy, since her night on Pelios Station, had been somewhat shy and withdrawn. Acting more like a mouse than a squirrel.
"I'll take you some pictures, Ketchy," said Rella. She had brought her camera. It was in the back, in her pack. With the food rations and water bottles. They would only be down there for a day and a night, but ... always be prepared.
"You take pictures?"
"I won a prize, once," Rella started. "Yeah ... "
"A prize? Like, a ribbon or ... something?"
"It's in my quarters."
"Yeah?"
"Girls," interrupted Wren. From the co-pilot's seat. He was hugging his mahogany-colored tail to his chest. Bushy, rich tail. He often hugged it when he was ... antsy. Or feeling frustrated. Or worried. Or ...
Rella giggled. "Captain says we gotta stop the chit-chat. Apparently, we need to go to the planet for some ... fauna samples or something important like that." She said the word 'important' with a bit of sarcasm.
"Have fun," was the reply. Sounding a bit like ... a tease. Ketchy was a good observer. And was a bridge officer, to boot. She'd observed enough of Wren and Rella's interactions to see the ... attraction, as it were, between them. The yiffy tension.
The shuttle-pod descended from the bay ... beneath the belly of the ship. The underside of Luminous. And, turning, it angled to the planet blow ... pushing its nose through the upper atmosphere. Flying to the clear of the azure-blue sky, to the lower layers. Humming all the while. Rella thought that, these pods ... were rather cute little things. From the outside, anyway. Inside, they were a bit cramped. Luckily, she wasn't claustrophobic.
Unfortunately, Wren was. That was the true reason he was hugging his tail to his chest. Though he wasn't about to admit that to her. Or anyone. Captains weren't allowed to have weaknesses. It was one of those unspoken rules.
"I can't stand flying these things," Rella muttered. Eyes dancing over the controls. She sighed. "Don't suppose you'd like to try?"
"No, thanks ... I failed my piloting class at school."
"And you're a captain?" She smiled.
"Just don't hit all the turbulence," said Wren, trying to ignore her grin. But unable. It was (like she was) contagious. Though his smile was more cautioned.
"Thought most captains began as fly-furs ... rough and tumble risk-takers, flying by their fur. And then the harshness of life tamed them and reigned them in, and they became captains. Thought that was how it worked," Rella teased. She giggled a bit, eyes shining as they looked out the window. The blue was so bright! And they were reaching the cloud-layer.
Wren and Rella were the only two furs on the pod, of course. And, since they were explorers, they were going down for a bit ... to collect samples. Of fauna. Take back some plants, even. Scan the local animal life. Catalogue the world enough to make a decent entry in the database for it. No fur had ever really checked this place out.
And they would stay the night ... in sleeping bags. Outside, if they could. If the weather allowed. As the away team had done on another planet a short while ago ... the Captain hadn't joined them on that mission. Rella, however, had gone ... but both squirrels, either way, relished foot-paw-fall on any sort of soil ... not often getting the chance since leaving Home-world.
"Why can't you stand flying them?"
"Mm?"
"I mean ... why don't you like flying?" Wren asked, nose and whiskers twitch-sniffing.
"I could ask you the same." Her fingers flew over the controls, making slight adjustments. Manipulating the rear thrusters.
"Well, for me, it's just ... I like ships. I love ships," he corrected, "but ... I don't know. I don't have that spark with technology, that ... feeling for it. I use it, and I ... appreciate it, but I can't connect with it, you know? In order to pilot a ship, to really fly it, you have to ... connect with the machine. Have to understand it. How it works. Its moods."
"Well, it just comes naturally to me ... I mean, I can do it," Rella said, "but I don't want to be a pilot or anything. Because I can do other things better."
"We all have our own talents, I guess ... it's funny, you know," Wren reflected. Voice quiet. "How different we all are. Yet ... how we all, at the core, want the same basic things. Have the same basic needs. It's ... " He went quiet.
"Didn't strike you for a philosopher."
"I'm not. That's why I'm shutting up now."
She giggled. "Aw ... " She reached a paw over to him ... held it there.
He blinked, and ... realized she wanted his own paw. And he put his to hers. And she clasped.
"Didn't strike you as shy, either," she whispered.
"Well, I'm not really ... feeling myself today."
"No?" she whispered.
He shook his head. Meeting her eyes.
"Just one of those ... sleepy, tired, shy days? One of those ... curl up with a good book and your own tail days?" Her voice was so warm ...
He nodded quietly. "I guess so ... I mean, I have to be strong, you know? For everyone. Have to put on an edge. Can't show fear. Even if we're near-dead, you know, or in such grave danger ... I can't show it. I can't show that I feel it. Cause the crew, they all look to me ... for support. For ... you know, for strength. I'm their leader."
"You like to lead. I know you do."
"I know. I just ... long to ... open up a bit. To not have to put up an edge, a shield ... all the time."
She took a slow breath, realizing he was, in a roundabout way, trying to tell her that he wanted to open up ... to her. With her. To trust her. But was still afraid it might be inappropriate for a captain to mate with an officer. Lest he have to send her into danger. Lest he give an order that ended up hurting her. Lest he have to live with that ... if something went wrong ...
The pod went through white clouds. Into them.
"That's one of the things I don't like about these things. About space-to-sruface/surface-to-space traveling ... you're blind in the clouds," said Wren.
"Really? I like that part the best," said Rella.
"Why?"
"The anticipation. The surprise. Like ... when you open the gift you get on your birthday. The clouds part, slip away, and ... " Her eyes glowed. "And there it is," she whispered.
The land was green. Verdant. It stretched for countless acres.
"It's a place like this," Rella whispered, still holding Wren's paw. And giving it a squeeze. "Where redemption can be found. Where ... you can be like an island, you know? Floating free ... " She took in a deep breath. Almost imagining she could smell the fresh air. Even from inside this cabin. And she reluctantly let go of Wren's paw. "I have to land." She giggled a bit.
He nodded. "Be gentle?"
"Oh, I always try," she teased.
"I would hope so."
Rella smiled, both paws back on the controls. Flying, dancing so skillfully, angling the pod, maneuvering it into a clearing. She stole quick glances at Wren ... between adjustments. She was seeing a new side of him on this trip. And they'd only left the ship five minutes ago! But she was seeing him ... vulnerable. Seeing him ... needy. Needing her. But for all the decisions he had to make, and for all the edge he always wore (dealing with shadow furs, dealing with predatory admirals) ... in this pod, with her, with a femme he'd begun to care for ... the edge had melted away. Replaced by something different. And Rella longed to find out what it was.
The pod shuddered as it set down.
And the two squirrels looked to each other.
"Shall we go for a walk?" he asked.
She giggled, smiling ... nodding. "Sounds like a plan."
They'd been going for thirty minutes, and the pod was fading from view. Becoming a dot on the grassy plains. The grass wild and yellow-green. Waving, bending, and brushing their shins as they moved.
The breeze was slight. Enough to ruffle their fur and move their tails a bit. Enough to shuffle their whiskers.
Rella spread her arms wide. As if soaking the sun. "Isn't this lovely? Oh, I do miss this," she said.
"The sun?"
"Well, sunlight, air ... grass, flowers, trees. Just little things. I mean, I like being in space, but ... and, truth be told, I'm too antsy to stay in one place for very long. I have been up to this point, anyway. But I've been young, and ... " She squinted, closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath. Voice quiet as she slowed to a stop. "I could just see myself settling down in a place like this. Laying root in ... this." She breathed. Sighed. "You know?"
He nodded quietly. He knew.
"Um ... " She shifted the pack on her shoulder. Wearing her uniform, but a tank-top version of it. For the sun. For the warmth. "Um ... well, we need to reach the tree-line, and ... "
"Why'd we land so far out in the clearing?" he asked again. Having asked that a few minutes prior.
"I wanted the exercise. The walk. The air. Thought it would do us good. I mean, who knows next time we'll be on a planet like this? And ... you know, a good walk never hurt anybody. Gives us time to talk and ... get to know each other better." She smiled warmly, turning her head, giving him a look.
"Makes," he said quietly, "sense."
"Yeah," she whispered. Her whisper going quieter than his. And she felt this was one of those moments. One of those moments when she should lean forward and kiss him. Out here in the open air. Sun and flowers everywhere. Do it, do it , do it, do ...
" ... it should stay light for a few more hours. We'll reach the tree-line in half an hour, I bet," said Wren.
"Yeah," she agreed. Nodding.
"When we get there, I'll collect the weeds and grasses, and any plants of medicinal value. You can get the flowers and leaves."
"I think Azure will have a fine time cataloguing these." Azure was a squirrel, too. The ship's botanist. Expert on plants and fauna. Both terrestrial and not. "I bet many of these have never been seen by furs before. Maybe some of them can be spliced and ... we can grow them onboard. Make hybrids. Experiment with different flowers. I've been thinking," Rella said, adjusting her pack again. "That the mess hall could do with a bit more ... hominess. You know? Flowers in vases on the tables. A bit of music. I mean, open up the kitchen so we can see the boiling pots and hanging pans, and ... make it more comfortable. We have to eat all our meals in there, spend much of our free time in there, and it's so sterile."
"Is that your professional opinion?" he asked. Smiling at her as he walked beside her.
"Yes ... or close to it."
"Ah ... "
She giggled. And scanned the horizon. "Those are some hilly hills out there."
"Hilly hills?"
"You don't approve? A little alliteration never hurt anyone, either. Walking and alliteration. We're going for broke today ... or didn't you know?"
He chuckle-squeaked. "Suppose not ... but Field's the writer. Not me. I don't know ... about word structure and all that."
"Field's a writer?"
"Yeah ... "
"I gotta say, and I hope you don't mind me saying this ... "
"You don't think he's fit to be first officer?"
"I think he's ... well, no. Honestly. I love him. He's a great mouse, and I'm ... really happy for him and Adelaide, but ... if you're incapacitated. If you're taken out of commission during a fight, or ... then command will fall to him. I don't know how comfortable that makes me. I imagine he'd wilt under those circumstances."
"Who do you suggest?"
"I don't know ... " She shrugged. "I just ... he seems a curious choice."
"He's my best friend," Azure replied.
"Well, I didn't mean to ... question it, or anything. I just ... you know, as your second officer, I thought I'd ... "
" ... gun for a promotion?" He grinned.
" ... let you know," she finished, giggling. "Honestly ... I'm just saying. I don't want the job."
"No?"
"No. Who'd run tactical in my absence?"
"Don't know ... "
Quiet. The breeze. The birds. The whispering of the grasses. Their steps and all the colors in the air. Everything ... everywhere ...
"What were we talking about?" she said, breaking the silence.
"You being a candidate for first officer?"
She blushed. "No ... alliteration. We were talking about alliteration."
"Were we?"
She nodded.
"Well, I ... it's not much of a topic-starter."
"No, I ... suppose not." She went quiet, breathing deep. Still walking. They would be there soon. To the trees. To the shade.
"Here," he whispered, stopping her, and withdrawing his water bottle. "Come on." He gently led it to her lips.
She flushed. "It's okay. I can ... "
"I don't want you dehydrated."
She nearly wilted then and there. The masculine concern in his voice. The ... she saw in his mannerisms, his eyes, how he wanted to care for her. How he did care for her. She took of the water, and wiped her lips. Nodding. "Thank you," she whispered.
"No need to thank me for giving you water."
"Not for that. For ... being sweet," she whispered.
He bit his lip. Looked to the ground. His tail, like a furry, luxurious flag ... was buffeted by the breeze a bit. "Can't say anyone's ever called me sweet." He looked back up to her.
"Why not?" was her whisper.
Their eyes locked.
"Hmm?"
"I don't know ... " He shrugged. "I'm too intense."
"You don't seem it."
"Not now. Not here, in this ... paradise. With you ... but back on the ship, in a command situation, I'm ... "
" ... not in a command situation right now. And those situations don't define you. Wren, it's ... I mean, it's like ... our jobs don't define us, do they? Maybe they help drive us, but ... we're more than our parts. We're ... much ... we're more than that," she said, and she'd instinctively drawn closer to him. Her muzzle nearing his neck. And she blinked and pulled back and swallowed. And said, "Um ... we should keep moving."
He nodded. "Yeah ... " He sighed. Cleared his throat.
When they reached the tree-line, Rella craned her neck. Letting her pack slip off one furry shoulder and to the ground. Rubbing her neck with one paw ... using the other to stretch. Standing on tips of foot-paws and reaching upward. Arching. "Oh ... gosh, to be in such OPEN space! I feel I could expand. I feel I could ... just disperse."
"If you did that, I'd have a hard time chasing after you ... you and your molecules. Traveling like pollen."
"Become the wind, then. Steer me with your breath."
"The wind can be cold."
She smiled, almost giggling. They were speaking in poetry now. Speaking in hopelessly romantic ways, and they were standing in lush grass. Beneath trees that were rustling, whispering, flushing ... beneath skies that were deep and colorful. And there was no one to stop them ...
Rella replied to his last words with, "Can't it also be warm? Doesn't it simply depend on the weather? On outside factors?"
"Such as?"
"Love ... vulnerability. Wide-eyed wonder."
"Nature heeds no emotion. It has no emotion."
"It must have ... to sprout such flowers," she said, nodding around them. At the blues and the purples. The violets.
"Those are God's doing."
"And God made nature, and God is love, and ... "
"We're getting ... far beyond my capacity for debate," Wren told her, giggling. "Um ... I'm not a philosopher. If you want that, go for Adelaide or Field. They're ... I mean, they're fanatics compared to me."
"You saying you don't believe it?"
"Believe what?"
"In God. In fate."
"I believe it," he whispered. "I just ... am not one to debate it or ... dwell on it. You know?"
"Not one to look deeper?"
"I don't know ... "
"You still don't believe in time travel, do you?" she teased. "Even after what we saw?"
"It was ... dubious, I admit, but to assume that it MUST mean that ship was from the future, I mean ... I've my doubts."
"Doubt. Doubt is your ... problem, Wren. I ... " She took a step to him. Was right in front of him. "You doubt that, if we ... that it would work. You doubt you could keep it separate from duty. You doubt you could keep it together if I got hurt. You ... doubt it."
"Yes," he confessed. "But I'm ... "
"Believe it?" she pleaded. Quietly. "Please? Believe it could ... work ... believe ... me," she begged quietly, voice below a whisper. And her arms were around his back. She held him in a hug and breathed such a deep breath. And let it out. And closed her eyes, breathing in another breath, and ...
He hugged her back. Up against his chest. It felt so nice ... like how he couldn't describe.
"No one's here," she told him. Nose on his neck. Muzzle parting to whisper to his angular, swiveling ear. "It's an hour 'til dusk ... "
"We have to collect samples."
"We can do that in the morning. Or ... later. By flashlight."
He chuckled. "By flashlight?"
"Won't make a difference. Not a lot's riding on this mission, right? And ... you could've assigned someone else to come down here, but you came yourself. And you asked me to come, too. You knew we ... how cramped it is on a star-ship. Come on, Wren," she whispered honestly. "Don't tell me ... you ... didn't want me. I mean ... want this." Her breathing was coming at a bit of a stagger.
He licked his dry lips. Nodded quietly. Just nodded, and he ...
... kissed her! Sweet, soft. A little peck to the lips. And her eyes closed and her neck craned upward at the act.
His paws went to the bottom of her tank-top ... lifting the fabric, the bottom of it ... pulling it up.
She lifted her arms. It slid over and off, and it fluttered to the grass.
"Um ... "
"Never ... unbuckled a bra before?" she teased.
Flushing, he shook his head.
Her turn to flush. "Well ... not that hard," she said gently. Turning around. Letting him unclasp it, and it fell, too. And she kept her back to him. And he wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Yours now ... darling," she said. Having been wanting to call him "darling" for days. It was her favorite term of affection. She had wanted to say it. Wanted it to be said back to her.
"You gotta help," he prodded. "I helped with yours."
"Oh, you're so ... " She giggled, not finishing, turning slowly around. Blushing a bit.
His eyes darted down.
She cleared her throat, cheeks and ears flushed beneath the fur. And she lifted his shirt up and over. And off.
He was a few inches taller.
She looked up to him, her belly to his. Breast to chest.
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. And her eyes closed, too. And he daintily moved to kiss her forehead. And down to kiss her nose.
She giggle-squeaked at this! No one had ever kissed her nose before. It tickled. It felt funny, but ... it made her smile.
And he smiled at her smile. She was radiant.
There was a pause.
"Go on," she urged, nosing his neck. "Go on ... " Her whisper was gentle. Not at all teasing. Not at all callous. But gentle and loving.
He went, sidling a bit down, kissing and gently suck-sucking the fur of her neck. Leaving little wet spots. Her head went to the side, closing her eyes. As his muzzle roamed down, sniffing her fur, nosing her fur. Both of them hot beneath their pelts.
His mouth found its way to a nipple. Sucked. Tongue flitting over it.
"Oh ... " Her breath left her.
He continued.
"W-wren ... g-get it ... h-help me take it ... " She was fumbling at the rest of his attire. At his pants. "Um ... off ... "
He did so. Wordlessly, he did so, and ... it only took a minute or two before they were both bare, before their tails, their rumps ... foot-paws. Noses, bellies. Every cute, furry part of them ... was exposed to the air.
She squeaked as she found herself on her back in the grass.
He sat on his knees between her legs, his thumb rubbing at the top of her furry folds ... rubbing her sensitive bits ...
She huffed out ... eyes darting, closing. And then opening. Looking to him.
Both of their whiskers twitching in nervousness at what they were about to do. Both of their tails arched, curled behind them. Hers in the grass. His in the air. Both of them agile and fit. Acrobatic. They were squirrels. They were built to bump and grind with air. With gravity. And they were fit for doing such things ... with each other, too. It seemed ...
He leaned down and kissed her again.
"Mm ... "
The kiss was succulent. Sweet. Soft squirrel sucks. Soft squirrel kisses. Oh, she loved him ... and would. Every hour here. Every hour here, it was ... she wished she could capture this. But she daren't bring out her camera. She giggled at the thought. Too incriminating. Someone would find the pictures. And, anyway, it wasn't ... the physical sight of this that she wanted to freeze. It was the emotions. The way she felt now. The way ...
He slid into a more horizontal position.
The way he squeaked (as a rodent would do) when she reached down and tugged the firm pink of him ... out of the loose, furry sheath.
"Rella ... "
"It's okay ... I love you," she told him.
He breathed deeply, exhaling. Eyes closed. "I love you, too," he told her. It was wonderful to say. Wonderful to feel this way. It was such a relief. He finally had somebody to trust. Somebody to go to. A mate. He had found his mate.
Her paws ran up and down his sides now, and then round his back, and she pulled him down. So that he lay atop of her, and she put her legs to the sides of his, over and around. To his backside.
He fumbled to get into her. Missed the first few times. He squeaked in a cute, pitiful way ... frustrated.
"Shh ... no hurry," she whispered, knowing not to tease him about that. He was so vulnerable. Was bearing himself for her. And she doing the same for him. Now wasn't the time to tease. "Come on," she urged ... encouragingly.
He took a breath. Calmed down. Calmed his rodent nerves. And nodded, and ... slowly entered her.
She exhaled, breathing. Out ... in. Out, in.
Her in-and-out breathing matching the rhythm of his movements. Of his hips. His slow in-and-out. Slick, wet motion, so warm ... so sensitive. Such a growing, welling sensitivity. Such a warm feeling ... and he paused inside her. To savor it. This.
She swallowed. Throat a bit dry. And she exhaled. Her heart was increasing its rate, and ...
... he started up again. Gently. Quietly ...
And they went at it, squeaking, squeaking airily, softly, their squeaks growing with intensity. Carried away by the breeze. Getting lost in the branches of the trees.
"Uhn ... huh ... "
She clasped her limbs around him. "Mm ... " Swallowed. Sniffed the air. Him. His scent.
"Ohh ... "
"Come on," she whispered. "That's it ... "
He whimper-squeaked, began to buck erratically.
She felt the impact. The motion. It drove her ...
And he sagged, squeaking, sowing seed ... squeaking!
"Ohh," went Rella. Letting it out. And joining him a few seconds later. Glad that she'd been able to cum with him ... glad they had somehow synchronized.
Wren, sniffling, flushed with heat, fur matted ... huffed a bit, and ... turned his head to nose-nuzzle her neck. He made little chittery sounds (the kind that only squirrels could make). Nuzzling her. Cuddling and snuggling her.
And she wished to melt as she did these things back to him ... with him ...
And when they parted, when they were laying with each other in the grass. And when the sun was nearing its setting point ...
... Wren suggested, quietly, "We should make a little fire."
"Didn't we already?" was her smiling whisper.
He let out an airy giggle. "Can't have enough light. Can't have enough warmth."
"True," she whispered, sighing ... snuggling up to him.
They lay for a while longer. Neither actually moving. Neither getting up to make a fire, or ... set up their tent.
"Wren ... "
"Yes?"
"I want you to understand that ... this won't stop on the ship. I ... don't want you to think that, just because we're alone down here, the only two sentient creatures on this planet ... I don't want you to think this was just ... a one-time opportunity. I want it to be ... "
"I know. It will be. I promise. We're mates ... "
She nodded quietly. Put her nose in the fur of her new mate. She'd had romances, but never a mate, and ... " ... just promise me," she said. "Don't get yourself killed on this mission. By shadow furs, by ... I don't care. Promise me you'll stay safe."
"I'll try," he responded. Stopping short of promising her. He knew he couldn't do that. And knew she couldn't, either. They were in deep-space. It was dangerous. There were risks.
And their future would take some thought and some planning, but ...
That was for later.
For now, for every hour here ... they would cease to think.
They would just be.