Non-Menial Tasks
"He threatened the welfare of your mate. You had no choice." The snow leopard feigned to the left, going right ... and driving to the basket. Easy lay-up.
Pyro panted, frowning. "It's not ... I mean, I know what I'm capable of. It's not that," the wolf explained, as he checked the ball ... with Assumpta. As he dribbled, staying on the perimter. They were in the ship's exercise room. Which had a miniature basketball court, as well as ... running machines, weights, et cetera ... the wolf and snow leopard had met by accident. He'd come in when she'd been in here, and ... had seen her shooting free throws. Hitting them all ... had challenged her to a game. His mate was on duty, and ... he'd wanted to talk to her, anyway, about recent events ...
"Then what," she stressed, "is it?"
Pyro went for the three-pointer, and ...
... SWAT! A rubbery fading, bounce, bounce ... bounce ...
Assumpta tilted her head.
"I'll get it," Pyro whispered, going for the ball. "My possession, right? You knocked it out-of-bounds ... "
"Yes."
Pryo blinked. Blinked. "This dim lighting," he said, "hurts my eyes." The lighting levels on the ship had been reduced by fifteen percent ... to help conserve energy. They had seven days left ... before the engines would have to be shut down. Before they would be dead in space. And, still, no planet on the sensors. Not yet ... oh, not yet ... oh, please be something. Please, let there be something. To die in space ... in a vacuum. Freezing to death. Suffocating ... the wolf had witnessed plenty of ... death. On his Luminous. On the others side (in the mirror universe). He didn't want his new friends, his new crew ... they didn't deserve this. He'd survived the destruction of one Luminous. He doubted he could survive the destruction of a second. If this ship went down ... he knew, inside, that ... he would go down with it. It was just a feeling he had ...
"Do you wish to forfeit the game?"
"What? No," the wolf said (hurriedly). "No, game's not over."
"I am winning," she said, recalling the score, "seventeen to five. We are going to twenty points."
"Thirty. We're going to thirty."
A blink of the eyes. "Since when?"
"Since ... now. Since always," Pyro defended. "Best of five. Okay? Best of five ... "
The snow leopard smiled that mysterious eye-smile of hers, offering, "Very well. However, if your intent is to change the outcome of the competition, I suggest you ... "
Pyro, in a burst of speed, went to the left, and ...
... SWAT!
Didn't make it. The ball bounding, bouncing ... out of bounds. Again.
The wolf stood, panting, looking to the feline. "What the hell," he went.
"I am simply playing defense."
"This is a FUN game. We're playing for FUN," Pyro stressed, going after the ball (yet again).
"Then why bump the score limit ... to thirty? Why make a series of it?"
"Assumpta ... " Pyro didn't really have anything to say. Just had wanted to ... say her name in an exasperated way. And he sighed. "I don't know, okay? I just ... let me get a shot off, okay?"
"You are a wolf. A male wolf. Your strength SHOULD," she said, "be comparable to mine."
"I'm prey. I'm ... I'm not a snow leopard. I'm ... you have the advantage."
"Only prey would admit," she commented, "to being at a disadvantage. A predator would never admit such a thing."
"I'm not a predator."
"As you've said. However, you do admit ... to having dormant predatory instincts. You attacked the bat ... that molested Soldotna. You would've killed him ... "
" ... had it been necessary. It wasn't."
"I am going to assume," Assumpta said quietly, going for a water bottle, picking it up in a white, clawed paw ... squirting the water into her muzzle. Some of it dribbled off her lips and whisker-tips. "I am going to assume," she said quietly, after swallowing, looking back to him. "That you have killed before."
Pyro said nothing. Just swallowed. Just looked at her ... with his red, red eyes.
"I have ... killed," she whispered, "too. In my past. It ... did not agree with me. I could not do it ... like other predators could. I became more prey-like in my ways, and ... eventually, I was banished from predatory society. I am still a predator," she said, "and I am proud of that. It is who I am, but ... there are certain instincts," she said, remembering just a few weeks ago ... when she had interrogated the Arctic fox (who'd been surgically altered to appear as a snow rabbit). "There are certain instincts I wish I could ... remove," she said, "from my mind."
Pyro just breathed.
"But I cannot. They are a part of me, and I must live with them. As you must live with yours. Regret ... solves nothing. Lament ... solves nothing. You must learn to live with it."
"I've learned to live with plenty," Pyro whispered, orange basketball in paws. "Don't tell me ... that I need to learn to ... I've lived," he stressed, "with plenty." He looked at her ... as if ... he'd known her. The pain in his eyes ... as he spoke to her. And he looked away. Breathed. "I just ... you're the only one I feel comfortable talking to ... about this. I don't wanna scare Dotna, and ... Field ... I know I can talk to him, but I don't think he'd entirely understand. You're the only one ... "
The snow leopard nodded gently. "Any help I can offer ... is yours," she said graciously. "You and I are both ... outcasts. In our own ways ... "
"I don't like to think of myself as an outcast."
"Nonetheless ... you are. As am I. We both appear to be predators. I am more of a predator than you, but ... on our basest levels, we are both predators. We are not like ... the prey of this ship. Even if we wish to be." A pause. Eyes darting.
Pyro errantly bounced the ball. Nose sniffing the air ... his powerful sense of smell ... and the feline's powerful scent.
"What, exactly," she asked, "do you fear? You hear you will ... "
" ... hurt somebody. Hurt myself. I'm afraid of ... pain," said the wolf. "I ... I'm not a dark fur. I'm not ... at my heart, I'm not. But ... I had to masquerade as one, and now that ... I'm in a safe place, and able to drop the act ... I find that ... the life I lived ... is imprinted on the life I'm living. I want them separated."
"Sometimes, that is not possible."
"I know ... doesn't stop me from wanting it." Dribble ... bounce-bounce ...
"My ultimate advice is ... to stop fighting yourself." A lighting-quick flash, and ... she had stolen the ball. "There is a Northern saying ... "
"Yeah?"
"A wolf divided ... cannot win a game of basketball."
A chuckle. A shake of the head, red eyes glowing. "Yeah?"
A serene, mirthful nod. "Yes."
"Well ... guess I should ... stop fighting myself, huh?"
"That would be my suggestion." A nod ...
Pyro smiled. "We still playing?"
"If you can call your game as 'playing' ... then, yes, we are. I just hope you know what you're in for."
A chuckle. "Mm ... I never do."
Chester padded into engineering, eying the warp core ... the swirling blues and purples, and the hum of it ... staring ... staring ...
"Be careful. It'll hypnotize you," said Juneau, "if you don't watch out."
Chester blinked and shook his head. Shyly smiling, and ... looking to her. The squirrel. His mate. "Mm ... I, uh ... brought the conn report."
"Ooh, the conn report," she said, giggling, taking the computer pad ... from his paw. "Tells me what I already know ... about my engines." She smiled and looked to him. "You should be giving this to Field." All department heads reported to Field ...
"Yeah, uh ... I just ... I HAD to give you the conn report. There were some things, uh ... thought you might ... wanna look over," he said, fidgeting. Tail snaking ... and nose sniff-twitching.
"Oh ... ah, well ... you know," she said, staring with mock ferocity at the pad. "You know, you're right. This needs to be thoroughly," she whispered, "looked over. But ... let's not discuss it here. Let's go," she said, trailing ... looking around, smiling, nodding at the second level, "to my upper-level work station."
"Um ... "
" ... uh ... oh ... " Juneau's now-bare ... furry back was pressed to a series of computer consoles. Causing little beeps and whirs and ... churrs from the computer. "Floor, floor," she panted.
Chester guided her to the floor. The upper-level work-station could shield them from view ... as long as they weren't standing upright. They weren't, at the moment ... they were on their knees, so if anyone down there was looking up and ... they would only see the tips of Chester's ears.
"We're gonna have to be quiet," Juneau realized, eyes darting ... smiling helplessly. Her shirt on the floor. And the doors to this small space ... locked.
"Quiet ... quiet," Chester repeated, nodding, nodding. He had yiffed with Juneau ... on the job ... before. They had done it in the shuttle-bay a few times. Well, MORE than a few times. Their favorite pod to do it in ... was Shuttle-Pod One. And, to be honest, nearly every furry pair on this ship ... had done something yiffy while on duty. Chester, in talking to Field the other day ... Field had confessed that, during his walkabout (when he was supposed to be checking all departments), he'd ... stopped by his quarters and ... and Rella often went into Wren's ready room in the middle of a shift. And would be in there for a good forty minutes. They never admitted to yiffing on duty, but ... when Rella would come out, her tail would be all mussed. Everyone got the picture. So ... if Chester and Juneau got caught, it wasn't like they would get in trouble or anything. However, they preferred NOT to get caught ... it gave a thrill, doing this, but ... it would be a bit embarrassing if it were directly evidenced by the engineering staff.
"Quiet," she repeated, at a hush. Her lips to his. Brushing his. Oh ... oh, she loved mice. The little squeaky sounds they made, and ... their non-stop twitching! Noses! Ears! Tails! Like ... so much energy, so much motion. Like they were equipped with little mousey motors, and ... oh, she would hug him so tightly, so warmly, and he would just vibrate with twitching energy, and ... she would giggle. And occupy herself with the challenge of trying to get him into repose.
"Mm ... mm ... "
"Hush ... hush ... " Lips to his. Quietly, wetly kissing. Tilting. Sucking, and tongue worming ... between his lips. Past them. And pulling out, suckling ... parting with a smack-smack. Lying beside him on the carpeted floor of the upper-level work station. The opaque railings and computer stations ... blocking them from all view now.
The black-and-white furred mouse ... smiled shyly. Putting his twitching nose to hers, and ... nose-nuzzling. Nosy-nose ...
She giggled airily. "Aw ... " ... and her paws continued to undress him ... until, soon, they were both undressed. "Maybe we shouldn't left SOME of our clothes on, in case ... there's a knock on the door," she said, giggling.
"Probably ... " The mouse flushed beneath the fur of his cheeks, and his ears turned rosy-pink. Mice were so shy. So modest ... like Field, Chester never uttered a curse word. Never got angry ... mice didn't get angry. They got frustrated. And you could tell when they did ... by their increased twitching. How their eyes would dart non-stop, and how they would pace back and forth ... sometimes, you just had to grab them by the tail and ... nail them in place. Hold on and ... don't let go! Sometimes, that was the only way to keep them still.
Juneau didn't get to talk to Adelaide very often ... Adelaide wasn't often in engineering, but ... she figured that, one of these days, she should get together with the bat ... and they could trade mouse stories.
Chester moved his nose to her cheek. Buried it there, breathing, breathing ... since his near-death experience several weeks ago, he'd been ... in the process of mending. The process of healing. He'd had a nervous breakdown ... and, ever since, Juneau had been coddling him and cuddling him like there was no tomorrow. Had been so protective. Mice, by nature, were submissive creatures. Squirrels were prey, too, but ... were agile acrobats. Were built with more confidence, and ... Juneau was ably able to make Chester feel safe. Was able to help him get better ... like he was before, and ... maybe even better than before. She meant so much to him ...
She ran her paws along his chest ...
... and he cupped, with his own paw, a breast ... of hers. Thumb going in wayward wagging motions over a nipple.
The squirrel sighed, arching a bit ... bushy, flag-like tail ... billowing about. And she stretched her foot-paws all the way ... as far as she could stretch. Toes wriggling. And then relaxing. Sighing, and still on her side, and ... lifting a leg. Like lifting a scissor blade ... she liked doing it like this. Oh, she liked being dominant. But ... she couldn't ride him right now, or everyone on the bottom level would see her ears going up and down, and ... that would be ... interesting to explain (once she came back down, perfumed with mouse) ... no, she couldn't be on top ... and Chester was in too shy a state (as he often was) to be on top, so ... they would do this side-by-side.
He put a paw under her thigh, holding her leg up ... she held it up, and his paw kept it up. Kept it ...
" ... up ... if we keep this up ... "
" ... uh ... uhn ... " Ketchy bounced a few times. Bounce ... bounce ... stopped. "Uhn," she grunted. "Oh ... "
" ... we're ... we're gonna get caught." Denali, pants round his ankles, shirt undone ... was leaned back in his office chair. Otter-cock inches deep in moist, hot muscle.
Ketchy, wearing nothing at all ... sat in his lap, in the direction facing him, legs spread and foot-paws stretched behind the chair. At a very intimate straddle of the otter. "Oh ... gosh, darling ... w-who cares ... " Pads of foot-paws on the carpet now ... better to push up. Better for bouncing ... bounce, bounce ...
"Oh ... oh ... " Denali sucked air. Deep lung-fulls of air ... Ketchy was right. She was right ... oh, gosh ... why was he objecting to this? Buck ... buck ... beginning, from his helpless sit, to buck (very weakly) up at her.
"Mm ... mm ... " The squirrel closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck. Hugging to him. Breasts to chest, at this straddling sit ... and ... and ...
... Adelaide's knees buckled, and she leaned forward, own paws pressed to the wall of the lift (which, with Field's command codes, they had halted ... between decks). At a stand, the pink winged thing ... kept her paws on the wall, slumping forward.
Slurp ... slurp ...
Field on his knees and shins, on the floor of the lift ... paws groping, squeezing her soft, pink-furred rump cheeks ... while his muzzle made out with her pussy. With wet, sloppy kisses and sucks ... and ...
The bat's wings felt lightly matted ... from sweat ...
A finger pressed at her tail-base ... a paw gripped her rump. Pulling her forward, loosening ... the mouse wanted her to hump his muzzle, but was too modest (even during yiff) to say it ... but she felt it in his mind, and ... began to gently grind her femininity to his lips, his tongue ...
Grind, grind, grind ... whimper-whines ...
... forcing her to clamp her paw over the mouse's muzzle. Chester squeaking, sowing, in the throes of orgasm ... his mousey body shivering, nose flaring ... tail snapping erect ...
Juneau felt his final, helpless humps ... but it wasn't enough. No, no ... no ... " ... Chester," she whispered. "Keep bucking ... come on, boy ... come on ... " She cooed the words, knowing how to encourage a mouse ...
He swallowed and whimper-huffed, her paw still over his muzzle, and he weakly humped ... again. Weakly. So spent from pleasure ...
"J-just a f-few more ... mm ... mmm ... oh ... " There!
Chester let out a heavy, satisfied sigh, going limp from the sensations, and ... hurriedly pressing his lips to hers. Her moans going into his muzzle ... muffled ...
And, they, a sweaty, furry mess ... stayed on the floor few minutes more. Juneau giggling commenting, "Oh ... darling ... you're better than yiff ... you know that?"
A giggle-squeak ... a very soft one.
She sucked and kissed his cheek, whispering, "I love you, Chester. You make me so happy ... " A squeeze. "I'll do everything I can to keep you safe," she promised. Knowing that, in space, safety was never guaranteed, but ... knowing that she'd almost lost him once. And she couldn't stand another near-miss ... " ... just stay in my arms, darling," she whispered. "I'm not letting go."
The mouse's eyes watered, and he quietly nodded ... shrinking member slipping out of her, and ... muzzle burying into her breasts, where he seemed to shiver.
She stroked his back, knowing he was still in pain. "I'm not letting go," she repeated.
Ketchy sank to a full stop. A full sit. And shivered ... her spasms wracking her (and him).
The strong, mahogany-brown otter ... threw his head back. "Uhn ... uhhnn ... "
Ketchy hugged, tightly snugged, chittering ... right into his ear. Chitter-chitter ... chit ... chit ... what an odd, wonderful sound!
"Oh ... ohnn ... " Denali leaned his head back down, whiskers drooped ... lips parted, panting. Eyes opening ... and meeting hers.
A bright smile from her.
And he could only breathe (deeply) of her ... and smile happily back.
Her echo-bursts chittered in the air ... her fluid dripping everywhere. To the floor, on his whisker-tips ... drops of pussy juice weighing down his whisker-tips.
Slurp ... slurp ...
"Uhnn ... nn ... mm ... "
Until Field pulled away, huffing, puffing ... pawing his penis and ... clutching at her tail ... "Mm ... mm," he went, tugging at her short, rudder-like tail.
She knew what he wanted (read it in his mind) ... he needed to cum, and ... needed all-fours access to her pussy. And she briefly thought about teasing him ... but ... his grip was too frantic, and she soon found herself on all fours, being hurriedly mounted from behind ... and she gladly allowed the rush.
Field didn't last thirteen seconds inside her ... before he slumped and squeaked. Sowing ...
Adelaide, regaining her breath, giggled ... " ... mm ... feeling better?"
A bashful, shy swallow, and he dismounted ... falling to his rump. Tail snaking (as if drunk). Huffing. "Yeah," he confessed.
She twisted about, flashing him a playful, toothy grin. "Guess we should let other furs use the lift, huh ... " Not that this was the only lift on the ship. There were several lifts ... what did it matter if one of them was ... stuck between decks?
"After we get dressed," he reminded, blushing, giggling. Fishing for his clothes.
"Would be a good idea," Adelaide agreed, as she slipped her foot-paws through her panties, pulling them up.
Wren wandered over to tactical.
Rella looked up. Gave a bashful smile. "You'll find this interesting ... "
"Mm?"
"We've had nine reports today ... of furs ... "
"Oh ... "
"Yeah ... being caught doing 'non-menial tasks' ... mm ... "
"Normally, it's ... usually three or four a day, isn't it? That get caught?"
"Normally. Nine today. And we're only halfway through," Rella said, leaning back in her chair. They were on the bridge. The bridge was quiet today ...
"Well, I attribute it to cabin fever," was Wren's response, leaning against the tactical console. Speaking in quiet tones. "I mean, we've been stuck aboard the ship ... you know, ever since we fled the snow rabbits."
"Also, it would be spring ... back home," Rella realized, "it would be spring right now."
"Yeah, but ... that can't be why ... we're too far removed from the natural cycles of Home-world. Too many years removed."
"Yeah ... " She went quiet. "Should I ... tell everyone to tone it down?"
Wren sighed. Considered. "No ... they can do it if they want, as long," he added, "as it doesn't affect their overall duties. And as long as they're not totally careless about it ... I mean, if two furs go at it in the middle of the bridge here, then ... " A slight smile. "Then I'll have to give everyone a talking to. But as long as they ... keep it fairly to the side ... "
A giggle. "Mm ... wanna know who was caught? I have names," she said, scanning the list.
Wren chuckled. "That's TOO tempting ... " He hesitated.
She raised her brow.
"Alright. Go ahead."
"Well, muffled squeaks were heard ... in engineering. They're believed to have emanated from Chester, and ... we all know who controls Chester's squeaker."
A chuckle. "Ooh ... "
"Uh-huh. So ... also, one of the lifts was stuck between decks. For thirty minutes. It was locked in place by a command subroutine ... "
"Are you serious?" Wren asked. "Field?"
"I suspect, trapped in a tight lift with ... her," she said, of Adelaide, "he just ... went into a sort of ... mousey madness." A giggle. Scanning the list. "Also ... "
"Alright ... alright, um ... leave it alone," Wren said, "for now. I feel like a voyeur, listening to this."
"Well, you'll be happy to know," Rella whispered, with a cheeky, whisker-twitching grin, "that we aren't on the list."
"Probably more because ... no one wants to report the Captain for yiffing on the job ... rather than no one figuring it out."
Rella flushed. And had to nod. "Got a point there ... "
"Yeah," Wren whispered, his paw slipping toward hers. Fingers meshing with hers. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Mm ... but ... we really need to make landfall soon. A planet. A ... moon. I would go for a moon," Wren said. "Anything. We have less than a week of power left ... and then we're dead in the water. If that happens, we're dead. Unless a ship HAPPENS to come across us and ... is willing to tow us somewhere. And judging from the friendliness of all the furs we run into, that's not likely to happen."
"No," Rella agreed.
"Check the long-range scanners again."
"I checked them ten minutes ago ... "
"Check again," he insisted.
"It's not that I'm not detecting planets," she insisted, bringing up the long-range picture. "I'm just not detecting ... " She paused, voice trailing. "Habitable planets," she whispered. "I'll ... it wasn't here ten minutes ago."
Wren peered at the read-outs. "A habitable world?"
"Appears so ... just came into range."
"How many days away?"
She tapped at her controls ... " ... um ... two days at maximum speed."
"Well, there we are!" Wren's voice spiked with optimism. Some of the other furs on the bridge ... looked up from their posts. Blinking. Wren smiled and turned away from tactical, telling the fur at helm to "set a course ... Rella will relay the coordinates."
"Wren, hold on," the squirrel insisted. "We only have enough resources to make it there ... if we go there and find out it's a bust, we've no way of ... trying anyplace else. We'll be stuck. Maybe we should float around for another day or two, and ... see if anything else comes up. And, then, when we HAVE to make a choice ... we pick the best option ... and go for it."
"This is the ONLY option," Wren reminded, "thus far. And for all we know, it could remain the only one. This crew is getting restless. We need a home."
"I don't think," she said (under her breath), "that fresh air is going to curtail our yiff drives." If anything, it would only increase it ...
Wren gave her a teasing look (having heard her). "Doesn't matter. We need resources. We need to restock our reserves ... we need ... a planet. We need rest. We need ... nature. We need," he said, looking to the stars on the viewer, "a home. And maybe that distant planet can be a home."
"I don't know," Rella whispered. After everything that had happened to them, she was hesitant ... almost feeling that something would certainly go wrong. That something wouldn't be as it seemed ...
"Helm, set a course, and engage ... " Wren went to his chair. Sat down. Fidgeted. And stood back up.
"Maybe I should have Juneau remove the chair," Rella teased.
Wren smiled. "You never know ... I might need it someday."
"Mm ... " Rella looked back to her sensor display. Eying the unknown (but habitable) planet just on the perimeter of their sensor range. What did it hold? Would it be ... what they needed? It had to be. If this planet didn't work out ...
Luminous, nose adjusting to a different direction ... warped for the planet. A two-day journey. Completely in the dark.