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It was mid-morning on a grey, nippy Tuesday, late-January. "Two decades? Really?" "Yup," Adelaide replied. The pink-furred bat was seated behind the library checkout desk. "Damn." A pause. "Since when? Since you met him or-" "Since we mated." "Do you remember how it was?" The bronze-and-silver fox squirrel was seated on the desktop itself, foot-paws not quite reaching the carpeted floor. The two co-workers and best friends were the only ones in the building. (The small-town library had a part-time staff, but they were the only full-timers. Adelaide as 'head librarian' and Ketchy as 'assistant.') As usual during 'slow hours,' they'd gotten to gabbing. "The sex?" Ketchy nodded. "It was alright," the bat replied honestly. "Just alright? Did you orgasm?" "Eventually." "So, you had to do it yourself?" "Did I say that?" Adelaide challenged. "Well, not to brag, but Kody blew my mind our first time!" Ketchy declared, of her 'himbo' handyman mate. "I could barely stand afterward. Ha. I told him, heh ... I told him I could handle a studly rabbit buck? And he grinned and said: 'famous last words'. Hoo, boy!" "I was Field's first first," the bat defended, sitting up straight. "He was really nervous! Needed to find his groove." A slight smirk. "After that, though? I saw stars." "Stars?" "Shooting ones! And planets," Adelaide added. "Wait? You took Field's virginity? Aww! That's so cute!" "You already knew that," Adelaide insisted. "I did?" The squirrel touched her chin. "We tell each other everything. I know I've told you that." "Huh, probably." Giving the bat a lookover, Ketchy asked, "So, you two hooked up when you were ... twenty?" "Twenty-one." "Right. And how many partners did you have before him?" "I don't know." A shrug. "A dozen?" None of them mice. "Damn, girl! Bats be freaky." Adelaide rolled her plum-purple eyes. "Why? How many did you have before Kody?" "Four. No, wait ... five." A pause. "Does only oral count?" "An age-old question." Speaking of 'age-old,' "I sometimes forget you're my elder ... " Adelaide scrunched he muzzle. "Don't call me 'elder.' You're only eight years younger than me." The ghost/red bat hybrid was 41. "Do the math! That's twenty percent more youth!" "It's not even a full generation," Adelaide insisted. "We're both millennials." "Ah, but I'm a late stage, happening millennial! You're from the old school first wave." "If you say so ... Ketchikan," the bat said, using the squirrel's full name. "Don't call me that," the squirrel insisted with a squint. She preferred to go by her nickname. "Then don't call me elderly." "I didn't! I said 'elder.' That's different." "How?" "One just means you're older than me. The other implies you're decaying." "Alright, alright ... " They both went quiet for a minute. Ketchy, starting to fidget, re-started the conversation by saying, "I just realized! You and Field are celebrating your twentieth anniversary? Well, guess what? Kody and I are coming up on our tenth!" "Congratulations," Adelaide said distractedly, scanning her work e-mail. "We should combine our celebrations since they're both milestones!" "They are?" "Anything that ends in '0' or '5'? Instant milestone." "But ours is in February. Yours is summer." "Then we'll do it halfway! In April!" Ketchy suggested. "If you wanna throw a party, we'll show up, but Field and I weren't planning anything big on our own." "Seriously? How come?" "What's there to do in rural Indiana in the winter? Also, you know how much of a homebody he is." Ketchy, Kody, and Adelaide were all extroverts. Field was the sole introvert in the friend group. Adelaide, finished checking her e-mail, picked up a Bluetooth coding gun and started scanning returned books. Once they were re-entered in the system, she set them on a cart for Ketchy to restock shelves with. "Welllll," the squirrel continued, "are you at least gonna give each other presents? You gotta have presents. Oh! I know what you can get him." "What?" "China!" "The country?" Adelaide echoed. "Nooo, dishware! Fancy stuff! Like Royal Doulton." "I have no idea what that is." "You knowww ... the real British shit. For fancy teas." She skipped a beat. "Don't you ever watch Antiques Roadshow?" "Is that still on?" the bat asked distractedly. "Uh, obviously." "Field doesn't drink tea." "But it's the tops!" "So, it's the Coliseum? The Louvre Museum? A symphony by Strauss?" The bat grinned. "Huh?" The squirrel made a face. "It's a joke." "Aren't jokes supposed to be funny?" "It's an old song reference." At the squirrel's blank expression, Adelaide emphasized, with annoyance, "Cole Porter?" "That sounds like someone grandmas listen to," Ketchy insisted, waving a paw. "Well, I can't be a grandma if I'm not even a mom, can I?" "A mere technicality. You're old enough for both!" "Mm ... let's not start on this, again." "For real, though. You're thumbing your nose-leaf ... leaf- nose? What do you call that snout of yours?" Ketchy asked. The bat had a fleshy 'protuberance' that jutted, leaf-like, above her nostrils. She'd gotten that from her father, Brisbane. Her mother Marion had an 'undecorated' nose. The 'leaf' enhanced her echolocation abilities, which were expert- level. "My nose," was Adelaide's flat reply. "Well, you're thumbing it at centuries of tradition, Addie!" "I don't even have thumbs," the bat reminded. Lacking proper paws, she had one big, bendy digit at the end of each wing- arm. "Are those things opposable?" A hesitation. "Yeah ... " "Then they're thumbs!" the squirrel decreed victoriously, fiddling with the scanned-in books. "Anyway. China is the gift for twentieth anniversaries." "Says who?" "Society! Which we're living in!" "I think you live in a fantasy world, sometimes." "I can prove it." The squirrel whipped out her phone and did a quick search. "Okay, here's the list. See? It's super official." "Uh-huh." "You're not looking!" Adelaide gave Ketchy's phone an obligatory glance. "Mm," she acknowledged. "So, you're on china, see, and the gift for tenth anniversaries is ... tin?! Are they serious?" The squirrel scowled, her bushy tail fluffing about. She checked a second website to be sure. "Damn. Didn't know that. That sucks." "Maybe you can 'suck' a can of soup," the bat quipped, unable to hide her amusement. "Bah," Ketchy scoffed, scrolling with her thumb. "Gimme a soda, instead." "Soda cans are made with aluminum." "What? Since when?" "Since always." "Know-it-all." "It's our job to know stuff," Adelaide said. Ketchy grumbled. Checking the rest of the list, the rodent continued her lament. "Man, they really blue ball you with the good stuff. You gotta get to forty years before the precious jewels ... rubies, sapphires. Gold is fifty. Diamonds sixty?! I'd rather get all that when I'm young!" "Those sound like rich people gifts," Adelaide said. She and Field weren't exactly swimming in money. Field worked at an orchard. Adelaide made more than him as Sheridan's head librarian. Combined, they got by, but they didn't have enough to be extravagant, let alone amass any true savings. Most of what they earned went into their rustic farmhouse, which seemingly always needed upkeep and maintenance (the well, the crawlspace, the roof, the windows, the HVAC unit). And then there was replacing old appliances (fridge, stove, washer, dryer) or paying for their two used vehicles (a pickup truck and car). Add in food, clothing, general supplies, electricity, fuel for winter heat? Various insurances? Oh, and property taxes? "Besides," Adelaide added, "I've never seen you wear jewelry." "Are you saying I can't be feminine? Or elegant?" The squirrel put her phone down. "You just used the term 'blue balls'," Adelaide pointed out, giving Ketchy a pointed look. "Heh. Yeah. Picked that up from Kody." "I wouldn't imagine that's a problem he ever has." The bat added slyly, "Or that it would be contagious." "I picked up the term, not the ... pffft!" "You gotta admit, that was funny." "Eh. Heh. It was okay." Ketchy shrugged, stifling a smile. She grabbed hold of her bushy, cinnamon-sugar specked tail and started to groom it, insisting, "I could pull off jewelry if I wanted ... " "Sure." "I mean it! Necklaces, bracelets, earrings. Girly stuff." "What kind of stuff?" "Fancy things that, uh ... that glitter and jingle. Ooh. Ribbons and bows?" "Go ahead, then, princess," Adelaide said distractedly, tapping her elongated bat thumbs on her keyboard. Lacking proper paws, she had to peck-type. "Come in tomorrow like the belle of the ball." "What would it get me? You'd make fun of me. And Kody wouldn't care," Ketchy said with a slight frown. "He likes me rough and tumble; prefers tomboys to beauty queens. Heh. He thinks female basketball players are the epitome of hot. Especially if they can dunk." "A man of taste." Adelaide tilted her head and asked, "Does he like me? I'm not a tomboy." "Yeah, he's all for hot pink 'vampires," Ketchy teased, "buuuut ... he likes Field more." "Figured." The harvest mouse had a crush on the Himalayan rabbit and had sucked him off (to completion!) once. In the girls' presence, of course. Kody, initially in shock, was constantly angling for it to happen again. Plus, both guys liked sports, so they always had something to talk about. Adelaide honestly couldn't remember having a one-on-one conversation with Kody before. Huh. She must've at some point, right? The squirrel, hopping to her feet, pocketed her phone and gripped the handles of the book cart. "So, yeah, I'm not getting Kody 'tin' for our anniversary. That's out." Her tail swished. "Just as well, because I know what he really wants." "Pussy?" "That and a new Switch game. Cruze'n Drift 3: Drift'n Cruze." Adelaide scoffed. "They made a third one?" "Of course! And there's already a fourth in development. Cruze'n Drift 4: Ultra Drift." "That's so stupid." "Stupid fun!" The series involved 'extreme racing,' full of neon colors, flashing lights, and turbo flame boosts, set to hyper techno music on crowded roads that twisted, ramped, and elevated through crazy environments with 'big bads' like sentient tornadoes and angry cacti trying to explode you while you raced opponents in a variety of kooky vehicles, ranging from school buses to snow plows. "If you say so." "You're just upset cause Kody and I whipped your tails in Cruze'n Drift: Xtra!" Ketchy insisted, coming to her mate's defense. During one of Kody's birthday parties, the couples had faced off in a video game match. "You did more than that," Adelaide reminded. Competition was practically foreplay for the squirrel and rabbit. Video games. Sports. Board games. It didn't matter. They always got hot and bothered trying to best each other. It was their shared kink. "So, we got a little carried away. Big deal!" "You had spontaneous sex on the couch! Field and I had to retreat to the kitchen." "Yeah, where you had sex on our table!" Ketchy countered. "While listening to us and getting off on it." "You're giving yourself way too much credit." A pause. "And wooden surfaces are easier cleanup than cushions." "Well, we don't eat off the couch, do we?" Ketchy asked in a calm, parental tone. The bat chittered with mirth. Ketchy blew out a breath, re-sorting the books on the cart. "So, what are you gonna do? Huh? If you're not getting each other cool gifts, you gotta do something memorable. Twenty years is a big deal!" Adelaide stopped her work and asked, "What do you suggest? And don't say 'china'." "Hmm. Maybe take a day trip! Or, like, a one-nighter. You know? Indy's only an hour away. Saturday night into Sunday morning. Go to a Pacers game, eat at a fancy restaurant. Stay in a downtown hotel." "That's a good idea, actually." She scrunched her muzzle. "We might be able to swing that ... " "And while you're there, do a spicy roleplay. Heh, make him dom you!" "Dom me? Field?" Adelaide echoed. Her mate was meek, even for a mouse. "Sexually!" "I know what you mean, but-" "Has he dommed you before?" "Yeah ... " "Oh, really?" Ketchy's ears perked. "He's on top more than I am." "No, no, see ... nuh-uh." The fox squirrel shook her head. "That doesn't count!" "Not even a little?" "It's not just about positions. You're still in control, right? In those scenarios?" "I mean ... I guess." "Sure you are. Also, you said it yourself. You've had sex with a dozen other people. He's only been with you! And, well ... he sucked off Kody, if we're-" "Your point?" Adelaide asked impatiently. "You're practically his trainer!" "He's not a Pokemon." "Heh, Pikachu Field." Adelaide furrowed her brow. "So, is it just normal 'femdom' or you make him call you 'Mistress'?" Ketchy wondered. "Cause that'd be hot!" "Ketchy. It's not 'femdom'," the bat insisted, making a face. "I'm not kink-shaming, Addie! I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt to switch it up! Pretend to be something or somebody different. Kody and I roleplay all the time! It was awkward at first, but now it's super fun. It's really freeing." The squirrel fanned herself with her tail. "Yeah, you're notoriously restricted." "You don't need to get stuck in a rut to get rutted!" Ketchy skipped a beat before prodding, "Heh. Get it?" "Mm ... " "I'll put it this way: on the flavor scale, you two are hovering around ... vanilla bean, maybe? Now me and Kody? We're chocolate peanut butter ripple. With marshmallows. Mmm!" "Vanilla is way better than chocolate." "Says no one." "Also, I'm an exhibitionist," Adelaide reminded plainly. That was the bat's biggest kink, even more than the sub/dom stuff. Sex outside the home. In nature, at work (both her and Field's). They'd even done it in a movie theater once! She always had to seduce the nervous mouse into doing it. But making him lose himself? Got her off just as much as the actual sex. Had they ever been caught? Well. Not technically ... ? "So?" Ketchy went. "How can you say I'm stuck in a rut if I'm into stuff like that?" the bat challenged. "It's not the activity, it's the routine." Adelaide sighed. "I'm only saying this for your benefit! I want you to have a great time." "Well ... guess it wouldn't hurt to try." The bat shrugged. "But we hardly need to wait for our anniversary to do that." "Great! Then maybe give it a go tonight?" The bat briefly hesitated before answering, "Maybe ... " The squirrel goaded, "Unless you think you can't do it?" "Are you saying I can't pretend to be subby for one night? Psh. Give me a break." The bat leaned back in her chair. "How hard can it be?" "For most girls? Not very. It's expected of us. But you're not 'most girls.' Also, you're a bit of a control freak." "I'm not a control freak." "You always get your way." "Because I'm reasonable and people want to accommodate me." "Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. You've been ordering me around all morning!" "I'm your boss," Adelaide said dryly. "Make Field be your boss! You always instigate sex, right?" "Yes," the bat answered plainly. "Make him do it!" "He'll be uncomfortable ... " "You can learn new things about yourself when you leave your comfort zone. And if you don't like it, don't do it again!" At that, Ketchy wheeled the book cart away from the desk and toward the shelves, saying over her shoulder, "Also, I expect full deets!" It was 5:30 in the evening, and the sun was setting. The flat, open farmland, cold and windswept, was specked by eddies of fluffy, white flurries. The snow was forecast to get heavier overnight, accumulating up to three inches before morning. But their colorful, boxy house was toasty warm. One-story and four rooms (with three additional 'half-rooms' like the bathroom and a few nooks), it was the definition of cozy. It was also nearly seventy years old, hence the amount of maintenance required. Field was home before Adelaide (winter was the 'slow season' for agricultural jobs; the orchard peaked in summer and fall), preparing supper in the kitchen. "What's cookin', mousey?" the bat cooed, coming up behind him, nosing his golden nape. "Oh, hey!" Field squeaked, looking over his shoulder. He'd heard her enter, of course, but had been distracted by the radio. Sports talk, which was still basking (much like Field, who was wearing red) in Indiana's first college football championship. "I made lentil soup," was his eventual reply, curling his ropy, prehensile tail around her. "That's, uh ... I mean, for the main course." "Smells tasty." "Also, some salad." Using 'butter lettuce', which had a silky texture and a slightly sweet taste. "And I've got a loaf of whole wheat bread in the oven." "Sure it's not honey-wheat?" she teased flirtatiously, wrapping her kite-strutted wing-arms around his yellow-gold self. Field giggled, snuggling into her embrace. She grazed her fangs against his neck. Shivering, he leaned forward to stir the soup, smacking his lips after giving it a taste. "Mm?" He lifted a big, wooden spoon over his shoulder, offering some to Adelaide. The bat licked it with her long, wily tongue. Slowly. Suggestively. "Mmm." "It's ... it's not too salty, is it?" he asked, ears blushing. "It's perfect." She pushed her nose along his cheek, breathing of his fur. A few seconds later, she let him go (reluctantly) and shuffled to the fridge, pulling the door open and surveying her 'bug shelf.' She was omnivorous. Field, meanwhile, was a vegetarian. Given his sweet bucktooth and expertise in fruit, she often teased Field that he'd walk around with a permanent erection if she were a 'fruit bat.' Just last week, he'd freaked out when he felt a stray leg (or antenna; he didn't exactly put it under a microscope) on his tongue after kissing the bat during a post-meal canoodle, which had led to Adelaide having a giggle fit. Hadn't been the first time that had happened; far from it. Once Field calmed down, he smiled about it, too ... after returning from brushing his teeth. And swishing some mouthwash. Field turned off the radio and began to set the table. "What do I want ... what do I want," Adelaide mumbled from the fridge, scanning her options. They'd just gone to the grocery yesterday. Monday was their 'errands' day. Toasted crickets? Fried beetles? Mm, no. Something rich and savory. Sauteed cicadas! Yes. 'Shrimp of the land.' They were even biologically related to shellfish. She pulled out the package. "I think I'm gonna heat some of these suckers up, add 'em to my soup." "Oh. Uh ... sure," Field said, whiskers twitching. The bat chuckled, unzipping the bag and plopping some cicadas in her empty soup bowl, heating them in the microwave. "Just pour my soup right on top," she said after she took the bowl out. "Okay," Field said, putting on an oven mitt to remove the bread from the oven. He let it cool for a few minutes before grabbing a serrated knife and slicing it up. Adelaide took a seat at the table. Her phone buzzed. She checked it. Ketchy: welllllll? Adelaide: i just got home? Ketchy: that never stops Kody!!! Adelaide: *eye roll emoji* suppertime, talk later After supper, Field did the dishes by paw (they had a dishwasher, but it saved on the electric bill not to use it). Drying his pink, furless paws on a towel, he turned in a half- circle to face his mate. She was fiddling on her phone again, so he cleared his throat until she put it down and looked up. Having her attention, he smiled shyly, biting his lower lip, absently tracing the 'Indiana' logo on his shirt. "What?" Adelaide asked. "Nothing ... " She knew better than that. "Were you going to offer me some dessert?" He answered with an evasive, "Maybe?" "Well. What've we got?" "Homemade cookies." He'd made several varieties for the holidays and had frozen the leftovers, which were still perfectly good. Peppermint blossoms, ginger molasses, snickerdoodles, and three-chip chocolate chip. "And, um, ice cream." A fresh pint. "From Handel's!" Their favorite ice cream parlor. "Caramel vanilla crunch." Vanilla ice cream with caramel swirls and salted pretzel pieces. "Anything else?" she wondered, cocking a bubble gum brow. Wait for it. Wait for it ... "Maybe ... maybe you'd like a butterscotch parfait?" he posed, eyes drifting. There it was. The submissive mouse never directly asked for sex. He waited for Adelaide to make the first move, and if she didn't? He'd give subtle, roundabout hints. Through gestures or euphemistic wordplay. It would've been frustrating (or 'blue balling,' as Ketchy would say) if she couldn't read him like a book. 'Butterscotch parfait?' The gold-and-white mouse was offering himself for dessert. "Mousey ... " "Yes?" he breathed, eagerly padding forward. Remaining seated, the bat lazily opened her wing-arms and said, "What would you think about trying a little ... roleplay, tonight?" "Roleplay?" "Mmhmm." "Like a game?" he asked innocently. "Something like that." Field's ears blushed. "Oh. Oh! Um, sure! What kind ... what roles are we going to play?" He smiled and blurted excitedly, "Like a Star Trek roleplay? You can be the captain, and I'm your lieutenant, and we'll be on an away mission and-" "Maybe you can be the captain?" "Me?" "Mmhmm." "You mean, like ... you want me to top you? I like doing that! Do you want missionary or doggystyle? Or we could-" "Not just physically top ... mentally, too," she added. "Oh." His whiskers twitched. Adelaide gently prodded, "You think you can do that?" "I, uh ... I don't know?" Ropy tail wavering, he opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. "So, what do you ... how do you think I should, um, 'do' you, though? Do you want me to ... " He lowered his voice. "Want me to do other things to you first?" "Mousey," the bat practically purred, "You decide. I'm giving you complete control." "But what about you?" he asked. "I'll follow your lead." Getting self-conscious, he flashed a dimpled, bucktoothed smile, upping his cuteness as tried to bargain with her. He sucked in a deep breath. "Adelaide, can't you lead? Pleeeaase?" His whiskers twitched with desperation. He was much more comfortable yielding to her. "I'll do whatever you want! I trust you." "I trust you, too. And what I want," she insisted gently, "is to play a little role reversal." "Why, though?" "Honestly?" The bat shrugged. "Ketchy dared me." A pause before adding, "Said we couldn't do it." This got Field going (as Adelaide knew it would). He had a competitive streak of his own. He squinted and crossed his arms. "Oh?" "She knows we've been together a long time. She thinks we're both stubborn and addicted to our routines. Thinks we're too 'vanilla' compared to her and Kody." Field huffed, tail whipping about. "Well, hah, joke's on her, cause vanilla is actually one of nature's most complex flavors! Way more versatile than chocolate! And much harder to grow!" The vanilla plant was literally an orchid. "Preach," the bat said. "Addicted to routines, hmm? Was it 'routine' when we had sex in her bed?" the mouse challenged. "Well, she doesn't actually know about that one ... " "Oh. Right." Thanksgiving before last, when the squirrel and rabbit had gone to Southern Indiana for a week to celebrate the holiday with Kody's well-to-do family, Field and Adelaide, living a few miles away, had brought in their packages and mail and checked on their house every night. Which led to them watching Field's basketball team on one of their 4K televisions. They had two, one of which happened to be in the bedroom. When the game had been a blowout (in the wrong direction), Field had dejectedly turned it off, and ... well ... They'd washed the sheets afterward, of course! "But she knows about the kitchen," Field insisted. "When we played Cruze'n Drift? She was there for that. And the foursome." That had been another time entirely. The four friends had a long, ever-growing history of entanglements. "Fox squirrels are like those balls in pinball machines," Adelaide explained. "Careening all over the place. She doesn't know what she's talking about half the time." Maybe more than half, honestly. "Then why are we indulging her?" "Well ... so she won't have bragging rights when we don't try? Might be different. Might be fun!" "Hmm ... " Field wasn't convinced. "It wouldn't hurt to try, would it?" "No ... " "That's the spirit!" Sitting down at the table opposite her, his smile returned and he asked, "Alright." A deep breath. "So! Can we do the Star Trek thing?" "Whatever you say, dear," Adelaide answered, as subserviently as she could. "Uh, okay. Good!" A pause, looking around and then back to her. "How do you want me to start?" "If I tell you and you do it, then I'm still leading, aren't I?" "I guess ... " "You have instincts, don't you?" "Yes?" "Fall back on them." Adelade folded her wing-arms around her body, looking like a bat burrito. "But what if they're telling me to defer to you?" "Don't overthink this, Field. Just do it." Field nodded, pausing before whispering, "Do what?" "Anything!" He sat up straight. Okay! He had this! Easy-peasy, piece of cake. He got out of his chair and rounded the table, standing beside her. Stepping backward. Approaching again. Reaching for her with a paw, prying her wing-arms apart as gently as he could (like unwrapping a package). "Do you ... do you want to go to the bedroom or do it here?" "Field ... " "Oops! I mean ... let's go to the bedroom now? I ... I command you!" "Heh. Don't you think you're overdoing it? Is that how I talk?" "No ... " "Relax. It's just us! No pressure," Adelaide coached, even as she felt the rising, desperate urge to take over. This was getting ridiculous. They could've been fucking by now! The harvest mouse was a classic overthinker. When under the spotlight, his ability to make decisions was practically non- existent. It was adorable in a flustered, mousey way, but it could also drive her up the wall. Field swallowed while Adelaide looked at him. No pressure? No pressure?! He only wanted what she wanted! But if she didn't know what she wanted (or wasn't telling him), then ... well, how was he supposed to know what he wanted from her? So, he was stuck in a comfort zone? Big whoop! He liked his comfort zone. It was so comfortable! Meanwhile, though there were plenty of males out there being casually dominant and having rollicking, carefree times right this very instant. They weren't getting tripped up. Why was he? Why couldn't he be like them? Adelaide clenched her jaw. "Are ... are you getting mad?" Field stammered, clutching his tail demurely. "I'm not mad. I'm just ... pent-up." "Me, too ... " She sighed and spread her wing-arms again. "Then take me." "Take you where? To bed? Or the shower? Or, like ... do you mean 'take you' take you, like right here on the-" "Just do something?" was her exasperated answer. She shook her head. "Grab my ass?" "But you're ... you're sitting on it?" Adelaide barked out a laugh. "Then squeeze my tits?" "Oh! Oh. Um ... yes, I'll do something! "Yeah? What?" "I'll do you!" he insisted with squeaky, high-pitched (un)certainty. Adelaide giggled more. Field's buckteeth jutted, whiskers twitching. "I mean it! I will." "Oh, gosh," the bat echoed, in an exaggeratedly breathy tone, covering her heart with a wingtip. "Is that a promise, Captain?" she said, slipping right into the Star Trek roleplay. "I'm sure you could have anyone on the ship." "But we're not on the ship, are we? We're ... we've crash- landed our shuttle on this uninhabited planet." He looked around the kitchen as if surveying an alien landscape. "If only our subspace transceiver wasn't broken! We could be here for days. Weeks, even," Adelaide said. "Quite right, crewbat." "Should we look for shelter?" "That sounds good ... " Adelaide tilted her head. Field cleared his throat and lowered his voice to sound 'deep' and masculine, saying, "I mean, I give the orders around here, lieutenant!" "Yes, Captain," Adelaide said as meekly as she could. "Let's not forget ourselves." He tugged at his shirt. Er, 'uniform.' "There's ... there's a chain of command to follow." Voice returning to its effeminate, wispy norm, he continued, "Now, get up. We should start walking. The sun is setting and our scanners are on the fritz. Probably electromagnetic interference." "Aye, sir," she said, getting out of her chair. Fluttering her purple eyes, she asked, "Would you like me to look at your ... 'equipment?' Perhaps I could ensure it reaches ... 'maximum efficiency'." Field, oblivious to the fact that she was offering to go down on him, said, "No, shelter first. Then we need to find the source of the interference. We'll require scanners to locate food and water, so we'll have to neutralize it before our emergency rations run out." "Is it that urgent?" Adelaide pouted, perhaps leaning too much into an airheaded stereotype. "I think I need to lay down." "Are you tired?" "No, sir," she said, eyes sparkling mischievously. He smiled bashfully, knowing that look. "Heh heh ... well, maybe you were injured in the crash. Maybe we both were! Yes. We should probably set down and examine each other ... I mean, check each other out. Professionally, of course!" "Of course," Adelaide breathed. "As head nurse, I've trained for situations like this." Even though she'd told Field to lead, she just couldn't stop herself from influencing him. "You ... you specialized in, uh, mouse anatomy at the Academy, didn't you?" Field posed. "I see you've been studying my personnel file." She made a show of licking her fangs. "Yes. I topped my entire class, in fact." His ears blushed, pulse quickening. "That's ... that must be why you're on the flagship ... " "All I want to do is ... mmm ... to serve under you, Captain," she said, draping her wing-arms around him, tongue worming its way into his mouth. Field gave a muffled squeak, shuffling back with her. They bumped into the stove, turned, shuffled, and brushed into the adjacent wall, knocking into some hanging, clanging pots. "Mm, hmm ... " His paws went to her hips, tail snaking along her inner thigh. Breaking the kiss (and the fourth wall on their roleplay), Adelaide impatiently huffed on his cheek, "Bedroom. Be firm." "I am," Field panted, grinding against her. "I meant take charge," she said with a giggle. "Ooh, w-what if I carry you to the bed and ... and throw you down on it?" he asked, feeling his oats. No, wait. He could've done that when they first met. But in his forties? Yeah, no. Probably shouldn't risk it. His back would regret it. Reeling in his bravado, he amended, "Or maybe, um ... just ... get you spread-eagle on the sheets and bend your legs back and take you? What's that called?" "A mating press, Captain." "Wanna do that?" Adelaide sauntered ahead of him, swaying her body and giving him a hip-check (which drew a squeak!). "Up to you." Field swallowed. She cast a look over her shoulder, waiting for him to take the point. The harvest mouse moved past her. "I ... I think there's a place that, uh ... that way? Yes. I noticed it during our descent." He pointed with his tail down the short hall that connected all the rooms of the house. The bedroom was at the end. "Then let's not dawdle," the bat said. They impatiently undressed (trading gropes, swapping kisses) as they meandered, leaving a trail of clothes on the polished, wooden floor. Passing the living room (with the fireplace humming), they were still in their undergarments when they entered the bedroom. That was soon remedied. Adelaide then sat on the edge of the bed, scooting back into the center, bunching up the big blue comforter that had been neatly covering the sheets. Field ogled her, never tiring of the sight. She was like a work of art, a mouse with wings. An angel from his personal heaven. The bat was two tones of pink. Hot, juicy watermelon on her limbs and head, and a paler, powdery carnation down her middle and on her wing membranes. Fluttering her plum eyes, she went full spread. Wing-arms extending straight out from her sides, she lifted her legs straight up, parting them slightly. A classic 'mating press' pose. She stuck her long, wily tongue out before saying, "I seem to have come down with something." She faked a cough. Her breasts heaved. "I think I need an injection, Captain." "Mmm, yeah?" "Of mouse-specific elements." Field's stiff, upright cock gave a twitch, leaking from the tip. "Will that cure you?" "For a while." She writhed for him, parting her pussy with her big, hooked thumb. "But I'll require regular injections going forward." "What about me?" "Mice are immune," the bat murred, rubbing her wingtip over her clit. "Hmm. I wonder why? If we're rescued, we may need to quarantine before-" "Field." He blinked. "Fuck me." The harvest mouse (with a squeak!) eagerly jumped into bed, responding to the order and crawling above his receptive mate, slotting between her open, raised legs. He grinded against her pussy while she possessively wrapped him up in her wing-arms and pulled him down. He was hers. She was in charge. All was right with the world. Muzzles met and mashed together in a string of passionate, lip-smacking kisses that left them breathless, dizzy, and dazed. Field tried to penetrate her then and there but missed, his cock sliding up along her puffy labia. He huffed in frustration! Instead of reaching down with his paws (which were both under her arching back, sliding down to her soft, furry ass), he used his tail. The bare appendage slipped between them and wound around his thick, five-inch shaft, steering his leaky tip to its desired mark, allowing him to ease into her. The tail quickly withdrew so he could plunge to an impatient, immediate hilt. Adelaide grunted, body rocked, pressed into the sheets. Her head sank into a plush pillow. Field moaned atop her, nibbling on her shoulder and pulling back for the briefest of moments before thrusting back in. Again. And again! "Mousey! D-don't stop," Adelaide said. "I need you!" The bat had wanted this all day. She danced her long tongue on one of his erogenous earlobes. The mouse shivered, motoring his trim, golden hips, cock blurring like a well-lubed piston. It squelched into her slick, smooth vagina, balls slapping against her body and getting matted from her wetness. Adelaide writhed beneath him, the 'mating press' melting away as her legs came down. Segueing to 'missionary,' she hooked them around Field's undulating figure. The mouse rutted his bat, panting and squeaking (sometimes both at once). Now and then, he slowed, buffering inside her and giving shorter, grind-y thrusts, teasing her, trying to rub his body against hers in hopes of stimulating her clit. It worked. She chittered! Letting forth random echo-bursts. His brain couldn't decipher the noises like hers could (hers translated them into mental images), but he heard them. And that meant she was getting close. So, he returned to big, ball- slapping thrusts while also fondling her breasts and sucking on her neck. The bat, delighted by her mate's multi-tasking abilities, hugged him with her wing-arms, head rolling aside, tongue snaking out. "Ah ... ah, hah!" Her pussy began to quiver, just a few seconds from an all-out seismic body-quake. So, so close! Field had thought he was going to outlast her, but BAM! It struck like lightning. A sudden, white-hot tingling. It surged through his body, his brain. His everything. The pleasure was eclipsing his entire being! It was unavoidable. He buckled first. Whimpering, he stopped thrusting and buried himself in her hot, quivering tunnel. "Oh!" the mouse cried, eyes screwing shut in orgasm. 'Injecting' the bat with seed. "Oh, ohh ... oh!" "Ohhh, mousey ... mousey! Yes! YES!" Adelaide yelled before firing off a full, rapid series of echo-bursts, her sex in clenching, milking spasms, bliss flying to every extremity. (There were those stars she'd told Ketchy about.) They panted and whimpered, reeling from their successive peaks. Finally, Field slumped on top of her (still hilted), blinking himself back into focus. "G-gosh ... " "We ... heh, we still got it, don't we?" Adelaide said with an afterglow-y grin, grazing his cheek with her fangs. "Mmmm, yeahhhh we do," Field agreed, hugging her tight. She was so warm. He beamed happily. "Mmm. I love you so much." "I love you, too." They sweetly kissed, the bat using quite a bit of tongue. Shifting his hips as he started to shrink, he finally pulled out of her, leaving a mess to pool on the sheets. Cuddling a while longer, they cleaned up and showered (and Field changed the bed). But despite it being pitch dark outside, it was only seven o'clock. Way too early to sleep. So, Field ended up watching sports in the living room (alternating between cheers and gripes) while Adelaide streamed Belfry Bats on her computer in the kitchen (her favorite 90's show; about a quirky small-town roost; a reboot was allegedly in development). She was only paying half-attention, having practically memorized the show, fiddling with her phone and eating caramel vanilla crunch ice cream directly from the container. A buzz as the bat received a text. Ketchy: ?? Adelaide: *mischievous emoji* Ketchy: you promised deets! Adelaide: you promised them for me? I don't think roleplay is our thing Ketchy: but you got laid? Adelaide: *shooting star emoji* Ketchy: heh heh Adelaide: I'll spill tomorrow, Field's here The bat's big, scoop-like ears tilted. Putting her phone down, she looked to the entrance, hearing the mouse well before his appearance. He gnawed on his lower lip, slumping against the doorframe. Whiskers twitching. "Hey ... " "Hey, mousey. What's wrong?" "They're losing," he muttered of his team, making a grump face. No, that was being too kind. "Actually, they're getting owned. Destroyed! I told Kody they would. It's so embar-" "Aww," she interrupted, thwarting a would-be rant. "Didn't you win the championship last week?" His tail flailed. "That was football. This is basketball!" Adelaide knew better than to say 'so what?' even if she was thinking it. Instead, she said, "Have some ice cream with me?" "Mm. Well. Okay." He softened and joined her at the table, sitting in a chair directly beside her. Adelaide surrendered her spoon. "Thanks." He smiled and took it, swirling it atop the ice cream before sticking it in his own mouth. "Which ... mmf. Mmm!" He smacked his lips and swallowed, nodding at her laptop. "What episode is this?" He was only casually familiar with the show. "Oh, just one I've seen a dozen times." Or was it more? The bat tilted her head, catching sight of snow heavily falling outside the kitchen window. Time (and the world) marching on, and here she was doing the same old? "Guess I am stuck in a rut, huh?" Field, taking another taste of ice cream, gave his mate a shy, little look before handing it (and the spoon) back. "Adelaide?" Purple eyes met blue. "There's no one I'd rather be stuck in a vanilla rut with than you," he insisted, as if it were the universe's most romantic declaration. Adelaide giggled, sucking on the cold, smooth ice cream spoon before leaning in for a sugary kiss and murmuring, "Likewise, mousey."