Silly and Seriousness
They'd arrived at the track (in Texas) an hour or so before nightfall. Had gotten temporarily settled, and then the dark, like a blanket, came over the sky. And the land. So, the racing furs all filtered about. Some staying in their trailers. Some going into the garages. Some going to the little restaurants just outside the track.
Which is where Field and Adelaide were. At one of the little restaurant/bars.
It was just before ten-thirty.
"You have the most ... "
"What?" Field asked, twitching his nose. Sniff-twitching his nose and whiskers. Looking, wide-eyed, at her. At his pink bat.
"Nothing." An eye-smile.
"Come on," he urged. "What were you gonna say?" He sipped at his drink. Which was a grasshopper. A milkshake kind of thing, with vanilla ice cream, milk, and creme de menthe liquor.
"You just have ... very dainty tastes," Adelaide told him, "when it comes to alcohol."
"Dainty?"
"It's cute. Really."
The mouse gave her a bit of a look. And then a bit of a smile. And sipped at his shake. "Beer gives me a headache," the mouse told her. "Plus, it tastes foul."
Adelaide sipped at her own drink. "Tastes fine to me."
A small smile. A small shrug.
And a fox filtered into view. "What a darling pair of love-furs. I hardly recognized you, Adelaide, without all the flash-bulbs," the fox teased. Referring to the bat's large following in the press.
"You, on the other paw," the bat countered (with a confident bite), "are instantly recognizable. No one oozes guile quite like you, Cobalt."
The fox chuckled. Spreading his arms innocently. "What can I say? I'm a fox."
"Mm-hmm."
Cobalt was Daly's teammate. Daly won the last race. Both of them were foxes (though from different countries). Cobalt was so named for his deep-blue eyes. "Enjoying your milkshake, mouse?"
Field looked up. Nodded quietly.
"Leave him alone, Cobalt," Adelaide said. With no rush in her voice. But, all the same, it was clear she wasn't gonna tolerate any funny business.
"Not touching him. But you prey are ... very quaint." The word "quaint" meant as an insult. "Were you a femme predator," the fox continued ...
"Did I ask for your opinion?"
"I'm just being friendly," the fox said, smiling, still standing. He had a drink in his paw, but hadn't sipped from it since coming over. But it was clear that it, like Adelaide and Field's drinks, had some alcohol in it. "But if you were a femme predator," the fox continued, "you would've won a race by now."
"Meaning?" the bat asked, squinting a bit.
"You just don't have that gut instinct, Adelaide. That 'kill or be killed' mentality. You have the blood of prey."
"I'm an omnivore," she said smartly.
"You know what I mean. Anyway, hunting and eating bugs is hardly the same thing ... as going after REAL blood."
"I wouldn't be talking, Cobalt. Your completely in the shadow of your teammate. So ... who are you to be giving me 'winning' advice?"
"It's not fair, you know," said Cobalt, ignoring the bat's words. "I've been in this league for four seasons now. You come in, and ... get all this attention. What have you done to deserve it, hmm? Other than ... " He nodded at the bat, eying her body a bit. Thought of saying something crude, but ... changed his mind. Instead, finishing ... " ... other than being of the 'gentler' sex."
Field, through all of this, stayed quiet. He knew that Adelaide was very capable of defending herself. And rather preferred, in these situations, to not have the mouse jump in. Cause, when he did, it made it seem like her male ... was coming to her rescue. And further gave the more jealous drivers fodder. Plus, Field was very timid. Hardly aggressive. Adelaide had more of that streak in her ... than he had in himself. So, the mouse just sipped at his drink, ears swiveling, nose sniffing. Keeping perfectly attuned to the conversation ... but trying to stay out of it.
"Maybe it's because I'm not a whiner. And I don't sulk. And I don't bare my teeth at furs when I've had a bad mood. Maybe it's personality," Adelaide said, eyes sparking ... as if daring the fox to keep going.
"I would be very, very careful," Cobalt whispered, "if I were you, bat. There are more predators in this series than there are prey."
"And?"
"We can make things difficult for you."
"Try it," Adelaide responded, fur bristling. Her paws on the edge of the table, and her winged arms spreading a bit. Flaring of the wings was a sign of warning ... with bats.
The fox, a predator, and well-tuned to instinctual signs ... picked up on it. And tilted his head. Not really wanting this to erupt into a fight. Not with all these furs here. It would reflect badly on him. That was the thing with her (and Lumba). When a male fur (such as himself) tried to confront a femme fur ... he came off as being a brute. No, he couldn't touch her ... it wasn't worth it. But, all the same, he could, as he'd said, make things difficult for her.
"Maybe you should leave," Adelaide advised.
Cobalt narrowed his eyes. And raised his glass a bit. "Good luck ... come the weekend."
Adelaide just kept her eyes narrowed.
And the fox filtered away.
The bat sighed, eyes darting to Field.
The mouse's eyes, wide and wondering, met hers.
"I'm alright," she assured (at a whisper). But she sounded a bit tired. She hated when this happened. She hated being resented by some of the other drivers. And being resented, even, by some of the fans. They believed she had a huge ego, and ... but she didn't. She wasn't racing to stick it to male furs. She loved male furs. She had a male mate! Goodness ... no, she wasn't doing this to make a statement. She was doing it cause she loved to race. To compete. To her, it was fun, and ... it gave her good feelings.
"You wanna go back to the trailer?" the mouse whispered. His paw slid to the middle of the table.
She slid her paw there, too. Where the mouse meshed his fingers with hers. "Mm," went the bat, closing her eyes. "Not yet. I'd like to get something to eat." She opened her eyes. "I'm okay. Really."
"I'm sorry that I ... can't defend you."
"Field ... "
"I know you wanna prove your mettle with all of them, but ... I wanna help."
"You know mice can't argue. They get flustered, and ... you're not the best at confrontation." She smiled warmly.
He flushed, nodding. "I know. I just ... I should be protecting you."
"You do," she whispered, squeezing his paw. "You protect my heart. You keep it at full flower."
The mouse smiled widely, dimples showing on furry cheeks. And ears flushing rosy-pink.
"Okay?" the bat whispered.
Field nodded quietly.
And Adelaide, stretching her winged arms a bit, let go of his paw. Her swept-back, angular ears moving ever-so-slightly. "Now ... " She reached for the menu.
"I think I need another milkshake."
A giggle. "You'll get yourself tipsy."
"Maybe."
A toothy grin. "Mm ... more drinks. And food. What shall we eat ... " Her eyes scanned the menu.
Welly and Lumba walked through the parked trailers in the darkened infield. Walking toward the garages. Toward her garage. Where her car (and back-up car) ... where the cars were being unloaded.
The skunk walked a pace or two behind her. Watching her walk. Just how she moved. And how her thick, rudder-like tail ... swayed a bit. How it gave her balance. He remembered, earlier, running his paws along that tail. Every inch of it. Paws sliding to her rump, and ...
"Welly?"
"Um ... yeah?" He blinked. Taking a breath. Some of the stars were visible above. But a good deal were obscured (from a mixture of partly-cloudy skies and light pollution).
"I do not wish us to be awkward," she said, her accent very evident. It was always evident. But, sometimes, it seemed sharper than normal.
"We're not," he assured.
She fell back a step or two. So that they were side-by-side. Eventually, both of them ceasing their walk. And standing still. "I know that, as a reporter, you ... cannot show bias. In your reporting. Or ... the coverage you give."
A quiet nod.
"We are mates now," she said. They had agreed to that. They had mated. "But ... I do not wish that to affect your job."
"It'll be okay. My boss will understand ... when I tell him," the skunk added. He wasn't sure that he was going to reveal the fact that he'd mated the otter ... not now. Did it really provide that much a conflict of interest?
"The other drivers may be ... agitated. They may not trust you enough to speak openly around you. Maybe afraid that you'll share their set-ups and secrets with my team."
"Lumba, I ... it doesn't matter. I love you. It's ... furs can look at me how they want. I know how to do my job. I can write about the races objectively." A small smile. "Even if I'll secretly be pulling for you."
She returned his smile. Her rich-brown eyes and fur ... glistening, slightly, in the available light. She was so graceful. So strong. She could be a dancer, perhaps. Or a gymnast. She was, like most race-car drivers, more short than tall ... but she wasn't petite, by any means.
"I must go to the garage, and ... must help out. Get some things set up. The next few days will be mostly set-up and preparation."
"I know." The skunk nodded quietly. "I've been to races before."
A light giggle from her. "Would you wish to wait in the trailer? I shall be back in a few hours. After midnight, probably ... but ... I shall be back."
The skunk nodded quietly (again). "Alright. I ... I'll wait up for you."
"You don't have to do that."
"I'd rather," he assured (with a whisper). Wondering if, perhaps, it was a mistake. The otter was his dream femme. He'd had a crush on her for months. But ... he hadn't expected to be standing here. Intimate with her. And was that a problem? Was it okay for a sports reporter to be involved with an athlete in the sport he was covering?
They'd never taught him about that in writing school.
Then again, most things well worth learning ... were never learned academically.
The skunk sighed, running his paw through the black fur on his forehead. Watching Lumba move off. Waving to her, and then turning back for their trailer. Their. Ours. Our trailer.
The skunk felt a bit light-headed. Love could do that to you. But what a lovely loopy-ness it was!
Bell-Bell stared at her drink.
Adelaide nudged her with a wing.
The doe looked up. "Sorry," she whispered. "I know I said I wanted to talk, but ... I'm not sure what I want to say."
"Well, something's on your mind, obviously." A pause. "A male."
The deer looked up.
"I'm telepathic, remember?"
"Oh ... yeah ... "
"Anyway, even if I weren't, it's ... always my first guess when a fur's feeling down. Loneliness, or ... relationship problems."
"I wish I HAD a relationship to begin with."
"Who's the fur?"
"Mm?" the doe sniffed at her drink. And sipped. Field had wandered away (to the other side of the bar ... upon the femmes request).
"Who is he?"
"I don't want to say."
"Why not?"
The doe sighed. "You'll tell."
"I will not! I'm a soul of discretion."
"You'll tell Field, and ... Field will end up talking to the ... the male in question," Bell-Bell whispered, "and ... "
"Look, you wanted to talk? Do you trust me, or not?"
A breath. "Dusky. It's ... Dusky."
"Dusky?"
"I know, he's ... " The deer shrugged. "He's wild and reckless. He can be cocky, and he has an attitude, but ... I just hear a little voice crying out in pain. No one wants to really help him. Maybe cause they can't, or ... cause he's so much a paw-ful. But I think he's ... " The doe took several gulps of her drink, hoping it would make her tipsy real fast. " ... hot. I think he's hot. He's ... well, you know."
"He's got that smile," Adelaide agreed.
"Yeah, that ... young buck kind of smile. That rabbits have." The doe swallowed, cleared her throat. "Makes my heart flutter. I don't know." A pause. "I think he knows. I mean, he DOES know that I have an interest in him. I haven't directly told him, but I know he knows." She went quiet. "Are you gonna eat those pretzels?"
A shake of the head.
The deer reached for the pretzels. Started sucking on them.
Adelaide watched with amusement.
"What?" Bell-Bell blinked.
"You're sucking the pretzels for the salt. Shall I get you a salt lick?"
The doe blushed. "Look, it's just ... a deer thing, okay?"
"I'm just teasing," the pink-furred bat said gently.
"I know. I'm sorry. I just can't stop thinking about it. About him. About me. How to confront him."
Adelaide watched the doe very carefully. "You're not telling me something."
Bell-Bell, looking at the tabletop, shook her head quietly. "No. I promised I wouldn't tell ... but I know he did something, and ... I'm sure it's not the first time. I'm just worried. I don't think he's ever committed to anything in his life. I don't know ... he's wild, you know? I mean, really wild ... "
"You make him sound like a jungle fur. Or a predator."
"I don't think he KNOWS ... what he is. He's prey. He's a bunny. But ... he's trying to race away from all that. I don't know." She went quiet once more.
"So, basically, you want to talk with him ... but you're afraid he'll close his ears or be too evasive, or ... "
"Yeah."
"You want me to talk to him?"
"That's not what I was gonna ask ... "
Adelaide's eyes widened a bit. "You want me to read his mind?"
The doe nodded quietly. "I need to know he feels it. I don't wanna make a fool of myself."
"Bell-Bell," Adelaide said diplomatically. "I mean, if I just scanned his emotional state, that would be fine. He wouldn't know. But a deep, mental scan ... can be FELT. You know ... "
"Well, just ... you're telepathic. You're empathic. I think you could get through to him."
"Bell-Bell," the bat said again.
The doe reached for another pretzel. Sucking the salt off. And nodded quietly. "I know ... I gotta talk to him myself. I just ... I really am afraid, Adelaide." She looked up. Light-blue eyes darting a bit. "I don't know why."
"You're in love with him. He might be in love with you, but ... you're afraid Dusky's pain will become YOUR pain. It's a risk. Starting something with him ... would be difficult. Would be risky. You want assurances that it'll be worth it. That it'll work out."
The deer swallowed. Nodded.
"Love gives no such guarantees," the bat said quietly. "And maybe it's better that way. Otherwise, we wouldn't learn anything from it ... " A trail. A pause. And, "Most of us have loved and lost ... before winding up with our lifelong mates. You know, it's ... in the end, it's sweeter. When you finally have it."
"Yeah," Bell-Bell whispered. Looking around. "He's not here, is he?"
"Dusky? No ... haven't seen him."
"Good. I'm ... my knees feel like jelly. I couldn't confront him now."
"You'll let me know how it goes?" Adelaide asked.
"I will," Bell-Bell promised. "Thanks for being so understanding. I mean, I ... I half-expected you to be upset. I mean, I'm your publicist, and I'm wanting to get involved with one of your competitors."
"You're my best femme friend, Bell-Bell. Aside from Field, you're the fur I trust most. If you love him, you love him ... I won't try and keep you from that."
"Mm ... well, thank you." A pause. "But, you know, I kind of wonder if it IS love ... or if this is just a compulsion to play fix-up. To find a battered fur and fix him. That, by doing so, I'll feel better about myself. You know? Is Dusky a potential mate," she asked, "or ... a potential project?" She drooped a bit. "I just can't be sure. I mean, am I attracted to his edgy youth, his ... you know, if we became mates, would I tire of it? Do I know what I'm getting myself into?"
"Well, as they say ... there's only one way to find out."
The deer looked to her friend.
"Just dive in." Adelaide smiled. And sipped from her own drink, scanning for her mouse.
Dover, on his knees, gently squeezed the tube of KY. It was the warming jelly kind. "Love this stuff," Dover remarked, in the light of the trailer. Blinds closed, door locked, but lights still on.
"Yeah ... " Dusky sat a mere foot away.
The older, brown-furred rabbit squeezed the jelly onto his fingers. Setting the tube aside. Lubricating his fingers. "They have a liquid and a gel, but ... mm ... the jelly feels so good. Mm ... move your tail, baby," Dover whispered affectionately ...
Dusky swallowed, flicking his white bobtail upward, rolling onto his belly ...
"There you go," Dover said, massaging Dusky's tail-base. Massaging his pink, puckered tail-hole.
The buttery-furred rabbit shivered hotly ... and swallowed.
"I'm really glad you wanted me to stay another night."
"It's ... fine," Dusky said blankly. "I, uh ... it's fine."
"Have to admit ... I'm starting to, uh ... heh ... well, get fond of you." A pause. "Don't worry, though. Like I said last night ... I'm just happy to fool around. You needn't worry about love or mate-ship," he insisted. But the way he said it ... maybe he was starting to doubt that philosophy?
"Y-yeah ... " One of Dover's fingers slid into his tail-hole.
Dover grinned. "But, uh ... hope we can KEEP fooling around ... "
"Ahh, ah ... "
Dover's finger massaged Dusky's prostate ... and then pressed it sharply. " ... yeah?" he asked.
"W-w-we'll see ... uh, uhh ... " The sensation was one of throbbing sensitivity. It made him feel like he had to go to the bathroom ... only, he didn't. It was the most acute, panting pleasure.
Dover's finger, inches-deep inside Dusky's clenching hole, pressed very, very firmly. "I'm not lettin' up, mate ... 'til you say yes."
Dusky squirmed, seeing stars ... gaping, "Y-y-yess ... uhh ... uh, we ... "
Dover, chuckling, let up on the pressure.
" ... we can ... f-fuck on the ... side," panted Dusky.
Dover withdrew his finger from the younger bunny's rump. "Breeding buddies?" he said. His voice surprisingly tender.
"B-breeding buddies," Dusky agreed, panting. Breeding buddies. A pact between rabbits ... made between rabbits. Sort of like "friends with benefits." Sort of like ... another mistake, Dusky realized. This was ... how had this happened? How'd he end up with Dover as a casual breeding buddy?
This was going to make any relationship with Bell-Bell ... very difficult. Not only would he have to hide the fact that he was casually yiffing with Dover from her, but ... if his dreams came true and he MATED with Bell-Bell, then ... he'd have to break the breeding pact with Dover. And, though Dover kept insisting he wasn't in love with Dusky, Dusky just KNEW Dover's feelings would get hurt.
Whatever happened, someone was going to be hurt.
Oh, he was in over his ears now!
He felt slightly nauseous. Only slightly.
"You alright?" Dover asked, kneading the other rabbit's rump-cheeks.
Dusky nodded weakly.
And Dover patted the bunny's butt. "Come on," he said soothingly.
Dusky didn't need instructions. Sadly, he was so used to doing this ... he didn't need instructions. Did that make him callous? That he'd done this SO many times that ... all it took was a simple pat of his rump, and he KNEW to get into mounting position? Did that make him some kind of ... well, slut?
A slippy sound ... Dover panting with pleasure as he jellied and pawed with pink bunny penis to full erection. "Mm ... mm ... isn't yiff the best? I mean ... don't you just love it?"
"Yeah," the younger rabbit breathed dreamily. That was the one thing he was certain of: yiff was the best.
It only the consequences of yiff weren't so complicated ...
But, once more, the thoughts left him as the broad chest of his new "breeding buddy" slid over his back. As, with a grunt, bunny mounted bunny ...
As they bred with the lights on.
The two furs were drunk.
Field giggled, being necked in the doorway to their trailer.
"Tipsy mouse ... tipsy mouse," Adelaide accused. They had left the bar (driven by Bell-Bell, who was clear-headed enough to safely drive). The deer had wandered off to one of the motels just outside the track.
"I'm not ... tipsy," Field defended, bright-eyed. "Am not!"
"You are, too ... " She nosed and nudged him into the darkened interior of their mobile trailer home. And shut the door behind them. Locking it.
"Mm ... mmm ... "
Adelaide, neck at a tilt, huffed. Her neck being sucked and nibbled on. Mouses were very good nibblers and gnawers. "Uh ... "
"Y-you're," the mouse whispered, "tipsy, too."
"Thought you said you weren't tipsy ... "
"Um ... "
"This is stupid, Field, to ... argue about," she breathed, giggling. Shaking her head. Feeling light-headed. Paws clinging to the mouse's arms.
The mouse was grinding his clothed hips to hers. Grinding.
"Um, uh ... " A giggle.
The mouse giggle-squeaked at her own giggles.
"Take those off!" she demanded of his clothes, grinning.
The mouse, normally shy, normally bashful ... was a bit looser at the moment. Because of the drink. His pants and briefs were round his ankles in fifteen seconds. Huffing, he gripped her hips, starting to rut her from behind. Only ...
" ... Field ... " She laughed, paws on the wall. "Heh ... heh ... I ... " Giggling.
The mouse, swaying a bit, saw she still had her clothes on. He huffed with frustration. "I ... I can't," he slurred, swallowing.
"Take a breath," she advised, smiling.
"I can't get your vagina out ... "
"I have, uh ... my belt on. I'll do it myself ... "
The mouse hung on her shoulders like a fool, slobbering on the nape of her neck-fur.
Adelaide, fur matted lightly with sweat, got her pants and panties to her knees. "Uh ... uhn ... " She rubbed her clitoris with one paw. "F-fuck ... "
"Mm ... what's wrong?" Field breathed.
"No ... no, fuck ... "
"But I ... "
A giggle. "Field ... " And she took a step, forgetting her pants were around her ankles. With an "eek" she tumbled to all fours, her short an' stubby (rudder-like) tail wagging. She giggle-chittered.
Field followed suit, soon draped over her back, lightly bumping his hips to her rump. His mouse-hood rubbing through the fur of her cheeks. He huffed a bit, and then slowed.
"D-do your thing," she said.
"What ... "
"Hurry up and do your ... your thing ... "
"What ... w-what thing?"
"Your male thing! Use it ... to, uh ... " She took a breath. Giggled. And sighed.
"Adelaide ... "
"Yeah?" She still had her t-shirt on. And her bra on. He, too, had his shirt on. Both of them naked from the waist down. Field slumped over her back, in a doggy-style position, but not having penetrated. "I, uh ... I'm sorry I drank so much."
"What?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered, blinking. Trying to clear his head. It didn't work. "I ... we're not being very romantic. We're being silly. I'm sorry ... "
"Hey," she whispered. "Hey," she huffed, wriggling out from beneath him. And to her knees. And using her paws to cup his muzzle. Directing his eyes to hers. "Hey," she said, for the third time. "We're mates, alright? We love each other very much. And nine times out of ten, I'd prefer a long, succulent ... romantic yiff, alright? That's what you do best. It's more spiritual." She gave him a smile. Swallowing. Huffing. "But, you know ... we've both been through a lot. We both deal with a lot of pressure from ... you know? We're mates," she repeated, voice a bit slurred. "We're allowed to be really silly with each other sometimes," she told him. "So, we both ... drank too much," she puffed. "But, uh ... you know? It's okay."
"Yeah?" was his delicate whisper.
"Mm-hmm," was her toothy grin. "Got it?"
He grinned back. And nodded. He got it.
Bell-Bell tossed and turned beneath the sheets in her motel room. Staring blankly at the shadows on the wall. And she sighed.
She'd made up her mind.
She was going to confront Dusky tomorrow. Right before his practice session.
And, so, she closed her eyes, wondering if she'd still be mate-less at this time tomorrow night. Whether she'd be in this motel-room bed here.
Or his bed.
Her heart hammered. Her throat dry.
Sleep. Sleep. Just try and sleep.
Who was she kidding herself?
She wasn't going to be able to sleep tonight ...
They were still on the floor. Both of them completely in the fur now, and Field sitting. And Adelaide sitting, facing him, in his lap. Breasts to chest. And his mouse-hood at a deep hilt of her feminine tunnel.
Adelaide, paws and arms loosely around his neck, rose and fell by a few inches ... rose and fell by a few inches. Again and again. Huffing. Breasts flopping a bit. Nipples hard and rubbing against the mouse's chest fur (which was lighter than the rest of him). The fur on the mouse's chest and waist and groin was a very light beige, almost. While the rest of him was a honey-tan.
Field's paws were in the small of her back. And as she moved ... he felt the outline of her spine. Felt her muscles tense and relax. Felt her soft, pink fur. The carnations, salmons, and cotton candy colors of her. Colored like a rose. The prettiest smelling of things.
Both were still drunk, but ... not so wild about it now. Having settled into a loving, shared motion. Their bodies hot and fur matted with sweat. Their limbs hanging, clinging. The mouse's tail writhing like a sidewinder snake on the floor. Making a soft, soft rustling sound. His ears gorged with blood and very rosy-pink. And sensitive to the slightest of sounds.
"Mm ... mmm ... " The bat licking his neck. The numbing agent in her saliva triggered at will. And numbing a spot on his neck for her fangs. For her bite.
He tilted his head the opposite way. Giving her full access.
She licked and lapped at his fur, and her saliva matted it. Went beneath it to the flesh. Went into the various capillaries. Numbed the spot.
"Huh ... uh," he went, tail going rigid.
Her fangs slipped in. Bit by bit. Deep into neck muscle. Starting to drip the white mating milk. Starting to merge their minds.
His tail went lax. And then started jerking about like a live-wire as they were joined.
The memories, the thoughts ...
Adelaide was a lot more hurt by Cobalt the fox's words ... than she'd led on. Field was worried he needed her more than she needed him. Adelaide was feeling a great, great pressure to win a race. It was starting to affect her driving. Field felt like the other racing fur families (the mates and such of the other drivers) resented him ... cause he was in the press so much. Only, he didn't WANT to be in the press! It was just a result of him being so close to Adelaide. The bat had talked to Bell-Bell in the bar. Bell-Bell wanted to start something with Dusky.
Every thought, everything ...
... flooding from one mind to the other. Back and forth.
Neither could keep a secret from the other. Because of the telepathy, and because of the link during intercourse ... and some furs might be terrified of that. Being TOTALLY exposed to your mate. Every secret, new and old.
But it was worth it.
Field knew ... it was SO worth it.
And, as a result of knowing that your partner would know what you knew ... you were more open and honest. More often, you did the right thing. It kept them loyal to each other. And the physical benefits were quite startling. Offsetting any emotional fears.
For, always, the initial flood of memory and thought.
Followed by the punch of physical pleasure.
That caused both of them to draw their breaths. The thoughts and such ... fading aside. Replaced by the physicality of this.
The mouse reached down, squeaking, to massage her belly. To wriggle his finger at her belly button.
The bat drew a breath and arched, her armed wings draped around his neck.
He turned his head (as much as he could with her fangs in his neck) to put his nose on the filmy webbing of her wings. He breathed in the heat. The scent. The softness. All the while, his finger leaving her belly button, traveling down. Until he could gently take a flick at her clitoris.
"Huhn," was her response. She swallowed, breathing in through the nose.
Field flicked it again. Very, very gently. He was never rough with her. And he could FEEL it. He shivered, a heated spark racing down his spine. All the way to his tail tip. He started rubbing her clitoris, and he panted ... FEELING it as she did.
Her armed wings hung weakly around him. Her fangs embedded in the side of his neck. Drool dripping down. She gurgled. Her lower half so warm, and the mouse's finger so gentle in its probing. And she whimper-squeaked, and started to chitter ... feeling the joy of the mouse. Feeling his stiff, wet penis. Deep in her heated muscle. In her wetness. Deep, deep ... in that velvet femininity. She felt it from her side AND his. At once. So hard to explain. So hard to decipher. It was simply overwhelming.
To be able to distinctly feel her own welling orgasm ... and his, too. To know which was which. To know, even if they happened simultaneously ... to know which was which. To feel the brunt of both at the same time. Was unreal.
And closer and closer.
Welling more and more, and reaching the point of ...
... release.
She bobbed a bit. Raising her hips and sinking them down. And the mouse humped upward a few times, squeaking, squeaking, fangs still in his neck.
They began to teeter, and they fell to their sides. From their mutual sit to their sides. The mouse rolled her onto her back, but she growled and threw her weight around. So that HE was on bottom. He was on bottom, writhing, as he came. Spurt after spurt of white mouse seed. Up and into her. Dripping out a bit. His sac tight and balls swollen. His penis twitching. His body flushed, and his breath ragged.
Simple squeaks of pleasure. Is what this was. Pleasure. Oh ...
And her nostrils flared, and she bit his neck a tiny bit harder ... as her pussy-walls quivered, squishing, milking him for all he was worth. And wracking them both with her own orgasm. Heated waves of swooning, physical bliss.
"Uh ... uhh!"
"Mm ... " A clearing of the throat. "Mmm ... "
Pants and squeaks and chitters. They were a sweaty, light-headed mess. Neither quite able to move now. But the bat slowly withdrawing her fangs from his neck.
Field squeaked weakly as she did so.
"Oh ... darling," was her breath, as she panted deeply. "Oh ... "
Field swallowed. Throat dry. Blinking up at the ceiling. And then blinking at her. Her pink, elegant, batty body in his focus. Even in the dim of the room.
She leaned forward and kissed his lips. Her lips soft and wet and warm. She kissed him. For several seconds.
He kissed back, eyes closed, head tilting. Nose sniffing and twitching. His paws clutching at her fur.
And when the kiss was broken, their eyes shining ...
... they exchanged "I love you's" ...
... and laid for a while more.
And, after seven minutes or so, stumbled into the shower. Just standing there beneath the jetting water. Eyes closed, swaying to the music of their hearts.
That actually wasn't so silly, was it ... she sent to him (via her telepathy).
No, was the mouse's response. Not at all ...