Up to Speed
The sun was out. The air was hot, and there were precious few clouds today. And Bell-Bell gingerly maneuvered behind the pit wall at the track. Side-stepping a few hoses and squeezing between two stacks of slick tires. Finding Dusky in his fire-suit, pacing back and forth. Back and forth. And he stopped when he saw her.
"Hey," Bell-Bell said quietly.
Dusky just nodded at her. Not quite making eye contact.
"What are you doing?"
"Getting ready to run some practice laps." A pause. "Thought that was obvious."
"Was just asking ... "
The buttery-furred rabbit nodded again.
"You always pace before you go out there? Before you get in the car?"
"I just wanna go."
She listened.
"I wanna get in the car and go. Damn tech inspection. Takes forever. Like I'm gonna mess with the car, you know? Like I'm gonna cheat ... " His voice trailed. He was many things, maybe. And he'd done many things, no doubt. But he didn't cheat. But, still, it was proper procedure for all cars (from all teams) to be checked before they ran official laps.
The deer's ears swivelled a tiny bit. She scuffed her hooves on the asphalt beneath her. Letting out a breath.
The rabbit seemed uncomfortable. He still wouldn't make eye contact.
But she had to tell him, didn't she? Like, right now. Else, she may lose her nerve, and to have this thing festering between them ... she didn't really want that. It was too much of a distraction.
"Anyway," Dusky said quietly, just to fill the gap in the conversation.
The sound of revving engines was heard. Some other fur going out for a practice run. The rising, climbing purr of the motor, and the glistening of the chassis ... as the car left the pit lane, rumbling low into turn one. Picking up speed.
Dusky squinted, watching it go.
"Dusky ... "
"Mm?"
"Look at me," the doe whispered.
He did. Half-heartedly.
"All the way. I mean ... look at my eyes."
He finally did so. "Well ... "
"Well, a few days ago, you asked me if ... you know, you asked me ... "
He nodded, and then shrugged. "You don't have to worry about it."
"Why not?" she asked.
"If you don't want to ... "
"Why do you think I'm here? Why do you think I'm standing here?"
"I don't know," he said, a bit coldly.
She drew in a breath through her nose. "Are you gonna listen to me, or are you gonna play stupid?"
The rabbit scowled at her words. "I don't play stupid," he whispered.
"Well, you must," she assured. "Cause I know that you aren't stupid. So, it must be an act. You must be playing it."
"Bell-Bell ... "
"Look, I just wanna help you."
"Who said I needed help!" His whiskers twitched in agitation. His long, slender ears waggled atop his head.
"You said it. Without words, you say it ... all the time. Your actions. Your tone. The way you won't make eye contact ... how you drive so recklessly. Your quick temper. So, tell me, Dusky ... does any of that need fixing? Or is that REALLY how you wanna come off as?"
The rabbit said nothing. Ears vibrating at the sound of the car that had left the pits a few moments ago. It had picked up speed and was now doing laps of over 210 miles per hour. Racing, roaring by. A rocket-like streak of color. The mechanical being tamed by fur ... organic and mechanic. A meld.
"Are you listening to me?"
Dusky nodded quietly.
"And?"
"And I don't know what you expect me to say. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you," she stressed, her growing frustration evident in her voice, "to be RESPONSIVE to me. Give me something, Dusky." A pause. "Please," she whispered.
The bunny swallowed.
The deer took a small step forward. "I like you. I ... I'm not gonna ramble as to why, or ... you know, I just do. Just trust me. I do," she assured. "I think you could benefit from ... " She trailed, and the continued, "from having a committed, devoted mate ... someone with faith. Someone ... I like you. I don't like to see you hurting." A pause. "It doesn't make sense, I know, that I should want to help you. That I should even care. I should let you wallow in your own flaws, yeah? But ... but I can't. I just can't," she said, swallowing. She had to pause for a moment to collect herself. "But I need an invitation here. You HAVE to tell me you want me, too, because ... otherwise, it's a waste of time for the both of us. And I'll just turn around and go to the other end of the pit lane, and ... leave it at that."
The bunny breathed through his twitching nose. Squinting in the sun. Beneath his fire-suit, his buttery fur was matting lightly with sweat. He let out a breath, hearing that car go by again. Leaving a fading purr in its wake.
The deer waited. Hugging her arms around her own, slender form. Watching the scoring pylon for the car's lap-time.
"Are you ... are you," Dusky stammered, "asking to be mates?"
The doe looked to him briefly. Nodding seriously.
"But we," the rabbit started, and stopped.
"What?" she asked.
"We've never even yiffed or anything, and ... you know, how do we know it would work ... "
The deer's muzzle twitched with a mixture of anger and hurt. Her words coming out with quiet, determined force. "So, what, a mate-ship can't work unless you've YIFFED first? Is that what you think love is about? Yiff?"
The rabbit twitched. Scolding himself for blabbing that out. But also a bit mad at Bell-Bell for scolding him like this.
"That's NOT what this is about, Dusky," she told him. "Do I wanna yiff with you?" she said, lowering her voice (lest they be overheard). "Yes," she whispered quietly. "Yes, I do, but ... " Her heart hammered. "That's not WHY I want you. That's not WHY I wanna be your mate. I don't want you just for the yiff. That's NOT what this is about ... "
"I'm, uh ... sorry. I didn't ... "
"Look," she said, softening. "Look, yes, I wanna be mates. I'm asking you ... to try. To try with me. Cause I think I can help you, and ... cause I want you. I think we could do things for each other. And, yes, I want it to be physical, but ... not at first."
"I'm a rabbit," he said weakly.
"I know that. I'm just asking you to ... be celibate for a few days. While we get to know each other. So we can learn about each other. Talk. You know? I don't think you fully understand how powerful intimacy is ... you think you can casually do that and get away without some kind of damage? Then I think you underestimate the power of it. What lust can do to you."
"I'm not trying to be bad," Dusky said quietly. "I never try to be bad."
"I'm not saying you're bad. But you let your instincts control you ... and not your mind. And not your heart. And I think that simple instinct is too wieldy a foundation to rest your soul on. You need more. I want to help give you that."
"Why do you like me?" he pressed.
She gave him a slight, confused smile. "I wish I entirely knew. But ... maybe I can find out. I just need your help," she said, "to do that."
The rabbit looked around. His car was being rolled back to his pit-box. Off the tech line. And he looked back at the femme deer. At her dainty grace. At her keen blue eyes. She was waiting for an answer. And he was afraid to give her one. Afraid of commitment. But why not try? He wanted her. She wanted him. Why was he so afraid of saying yes?
The doe fidgeted, squinting in the sun.
"Alright," Dusky said, clearing his throat. Nodding. "I'll be your ... " He looked around again. " ... mate."
A smile melted onto her muzzle. One that she'd been holding back. And she let out a breath. "Alright," she said.
"But, I, uh ... I don't wanna hurt you."
"Then don't," was her simple answer.
The rabbit twitched. Wishing it were that easy. He didn't want to hurt her. Then don't. But he was terrified he would. Somehow. That this wouldn't work out. That it would fall apart all because of him, and her heart would get broken, and ...
"You going out on the track, then?" Bell-Bell asked, eyes bright.
"Yeah. Yeah ... "
"Mind if I ask you something?"
"What?"
"You ever pray before you go out there?"
"Pray?" He blinked.
"To God. I mean, I ... you know, right, that there's a chapel service before every race. About half of the drivers come. Adelaide and Field are there. Lumba and Chester ... but you're never there."
The rabbit said nothing. Just shrugged weakly.
"I would think ... with your job being as dangerous as it is ... that believing God was protecting you," she told him, "would be a comfort."
"Maybe I don't wanna be comforted," was his response, coming off as darker than he'd intended.
"Why? Why wouldn't you want that ... "
"Never really thought about it, to be honest."
The doe nodded quietly. Not pushing it any further, but just saying, "Well, maybe we could pray together sometime. Before a race. Maybe it might help."
"Maybe," was all the rabbit said, eying his car. He wanted to get in there. He wanted to slam on the gas and fish-tail out of here and race off. The irony being: that he would be racing in circles. Fast, fast circles, but circles all the same. So, really, he was getting no further away from any of his problems ... he was simply, to use an analogy, chasing his own tail.
"I'll see you tonight? Can we have supper tonight? Together?"
"Yeah," Dusky said awkwardly.
"There are a few of those small, family-owned restaurants outside the track. They're really unique. We can go to one. Talk over a meal."
"Alright." He nodded again, starting to fidget. Wishing to hop away. Over that wall. Into the car. The more he thought about this, the more nervous he became.
The deer scuffed toward him, and planted a kiss on his cheek. With eyes closed. And then softly withdrew. "Is it too early," she whispered, "to say I love you?"
"I don't know," he confessed, twitching. Shrugging.
"Well, I do. Someone loves you, Dusky ... just remember that."
The rabbit swallowed, nodded. "Yeah, uh ... I gotta go. I'll, uh, see you later," he said, his cockiness completely gone right now. Replaced by a self-consciousness that was making him wobbly. Where was his youth? His brashness? Where was his irreverence now?
Bell-Bell, relieved, her step lighter, moved off.
And Dusky turned around, blinking. Seeing Dover on the other side of the pit-wall, checking some of the equipment.
The two rabbits exchanged glances.
Dusky swallowed. "Uh, Dover, I ... "
"Hey, bud, it's alright," the other rabbit insisted. "Got yourself a good catch there." But there was a bit of a bite to his voice as he said that.
"Dover ... "
"I said it's alright," the other rabbit insisted. Trying to smile. But it was hard to, with the lump in his throat. He blinked and moved off.
Dusky sighed, closing his eyes. Breathe. Breathe ... just breathe.
Just get in the car.
Get in the car and go.
"That was a good speed," Adelaide said. In her garage. Her crew had just left for their one-hour lunch break, leaving her and Field alone in here. The upward-sliding door had been closed. The lights were on, and they were in the back. In a corner. The bat was in a swivel chair. "I think ... you know, maybe I can get the pole."
"Mm-hmm ... "
"Only, last week, I had the fastest practice speed, and I only got on second row, so ... "
"Mm ... " A clearing of his throat. And the mouse, on his knees, looked up with wide eyes.
"Mm?" went Adelaide. "Oh ... " A sheepish smile. Showing just a bit of her fangs. "Sorry. I ... you're trying to concentrate, aren't you?"
"A little bit," the mouse whispered airily, in his light, rodent voice. His muzzle was between her opened legs. The bat slumped down a bit in her swivel chair, legs spread. Clothed from the waist up, but from the waist down ... her pants and such were around her ankles. And the flower-pink fur round her pussy was a bit darker in hue (due to it being matted with saliva).
"Just nervous," the bat said. She let out a deep breath. "I just feel more and more pressure to ... win something, you know? Furs question my ability. I get all this hype, and they want me to validate myself, you know, by ... you know. I just ... " A sigh.
"I know," the mouse whispered. Understanding. "I was just hoping this would ... help you relax," he said, nosing her leg. "Plus, the added thrill of doing it here, in the garage ... usually gets you excited."
"It is helping," she assured gently. "And I am excited. I'm very grateful ... " She scritched behind his sensitive, dishy ears. And she offered a smile. "Just wish they would get off my back," she said, referring to some (not all) of her fellow drivers. And the press. "I just wanna race. I don't wanna be a media event. And ... you're so shy, and I know it's hard for you to have to put up with it, too. I know all you want is a rural life ... " She trailed. Bit her lip. "I promise, Field ... when I'm done racing, and I've saved up enough from my winnings ... you know, in a few years," she said, "after I've won some stuff ... " She trailed. Swallowed. "When that happens, we can buy a little place far out in the countryside, in farmland. Have a baby," she whispered delicately. There was no way they could do any of that now, but ... " ... I promise I'll let that happen."
"I just want you to be happy," the mouse told her.
"Well, I want you to be happy, too, so ... this is a mate-ship. We're partners. You've sacrificed a lot to follow me around. To put up with all this."
"Hey," the mouse whispered, massaging her thighs. "I love racing. You know that ... "
"I know, but ... you can't deny that this kind of life, actually LIVING this kind of life ... can put a strain on things. You know?"
The mouse nodded quietly. He knew. A pause. "You really mean that? About us ... moving to farmland and having a baby?"
A gentle, delicate nod.
The mouse bit his lip, dimples showing on his cheeks. "Well ... but you need to make a legacy for yourself first. You gotta win a race, and then the 500, and the championship. There's a lot to do. You don't need to worry about having to pull out of this sport any time soon. I'm not tired of it yet." He reached for her paw and squeezed it. "As long as it gets your motor running, then it gets mine going, too."
A giggle. "Mm ... " And she giggled again. "Yeah ... " She returned the squeeze to his paw. "Thanks, darling. For your love. Your devotion," she whispered.
"You're welcome," he mouthed, eyes bright. "But I should be thanking you ... "
"Mm ... we can exchange compliments all day long, but we've less than an hour 'til the crew gets back. You're not done with your meal," she said (with a very toothy grin). "You're a young mouse. You need to stay healthy. So, go on ... " She prodded his shoulders.
And he closed his eyes. Exhaling. "Mm ... 'kay," he said shyly, paws gripping her thighs again. Still on his knees, he leaned forward.
"Here," she whispered. She slid down a bit more, raising her legs up. "No, uh ... let me put my legs over your shoulders," she suggested.
Flushing, the mouse nodded, his tail snaking behind him. A silky-pink rope.
The bat squirmed down in her swivel chair, and kicked off her shoes and pants (and panties), and put her legs on his shoulders. The bend behind her knees ... resting on each shoulder. "There," she whispered. "Better?"
The mouse nodded. Throat dry. He had full access now. And he leaned forward. She adjusted her legs and position as she needed to.
And he, muzzle tilting, resumed the licking that he'd started earlier. To the fur around her pussy-lips. Mouthing it. Matting it. Just kissing, sucking, and slowly moving closer, closer to the lips themselves. And, upon reaching them, worming his tongue between the folds. Where the fur became so short and fuzzy ... and then where the fur disappeared entirely. Giving way to pink, wet, luminous muscle. The essence of her femininity ... the taste of it dancing on his tongue. The scent of it swimming in his nose.
The pink-furred bat closed her eyes, and allowed her winged arms to settle over the mouse's head. Dimming his view a bit, but from this close, he needn't much light. He'd memorized the view (from all the times he'd witnessed it). So, he closed his eyes. And simply allowed his tongue and his nose to do the work. And his lips. He nibbled on her folds, and then squirmed a bit. Tilting his head to the side, and kissing her lips. And proceeding to lather them with more kisses and little suck-sucks. And little tugs.
Making out with her pussy.
Causing her to arch a bit. Her breasts rising and falling. The beating of her heart picking up pace. She let out a very audible exhale.
The mouse's paws had to leave her thighs for a moment ... to unbutton, unzip, and pull down his jean shorts and briefs. The pressure of his pent-up mouse-hood was a bit uncomfortable. And, attire to his knees, the modest, sheath-less cock flopped out, waggling a bit before settling at an upright angle.
Huffing and half-naked now, the mouse licked up the line of the bat's exposed pussy. His tongue running over some of the pink fuzz that separated the fur and flesh. His tongue slipping, with wet friction, along the folds of her vulva. The mouse's tongue wasn't the most maneuverable tongue, but ... he made up for it with his vigor.
"Uhh ... uh," Adelaide moaned softly, gripping his big ears. Which, as gorged with blood as they were ... were extremely sensitive to touch.
"Mm ... mmm ... " His muzzle parted, panting, he'd gotten his tongue to penetrate her vagina. He held it there, worming it, but had to retract ... cause of the strain on his jaw. Huffing, body temperature rising, he slurped up her pussy. And began, with his lips, to nibble and wet her clitoris ...
"Mm ... huhn!"
Too sensitive ... the moan indicated. And the mouse eased up. Squeaking quietly. For she was running her finger-tips, light as air, around and around the thin, pink flesh of his ear-lobes. The lobes a rosy-pink. You could actually see some of the capillaries swelling. She traced, watching him with half-open eyes, panting, "Y-you're drooling ... "
Field swallowed, huffing, unable to speak ... huffing hot air onto his mate's wet pussy. Wet with her own fluid and his saliva. Yes, he was drooling. When stimulated properly, his ears were almost as erogenous as his penis. And when both ears AND penis were stimulated at once ... well ...
Adelaide, swallowing, panting, circled her fingers closer and closer to his ear canals. Her fingers couldn't fit in there. Her tongue could, but ... she wasn't in a position to ear-fuck the mouse. What she could do with her fingers aside from massaging the lobes ... was to reach the clear, little hairs just around his ear canals (all pulled tight and erect by now). She pulled her fingers to her mouth, sucked on them, and massaged his canals.
"Huh, uh, uh," Field squeaked, hardly catching a breath ... " ... uh, uh, uhh ... "
The bat eased off.
Field sucked air. "Oh ... oh ... " Sweat-drops ran down the bridge of his nose. Dripped from his whisker-tips. His eyes were watered shut. He tried to open them, but ... and, all the while, her pussy was still there. Warm. Waiting. And he had two fingers tracing those lips, massaging, and then slip-sliding right into her vagina. And after a few pumps, he bent his knuckles. Massaging the muscular roof of her slick, heated vaginal tunnel.
Her biting instinct wasn't activated by his fingers pumping. Only a penis could activate a femme bat's biting instinct (probably the male's pre that triggered it ... more than the humping itself)
By now, how much time had passed, any conversations they'd been having ... it was all hazy now.
Her beautiful, wet pussy was being ravaged by the mouse's fingers and tongue ...
... and his ears being massaged and fondled with relish.
"Huhh! Guhhh ... uh ... mm ... mmm ... "
"Huh, huh ... umm ... "
"Hmm ... mm ... " The mouse, panting hard, finally brought his free paw to his penis. He'd kept his paws off it, but ... he couldn't. He needed to ... " ... ohhh ... ohhh," he moaned, huffing. "Oh ... " He pumped his rigid cock using his own pre. And, doing so, felt his breath stagger. His squeaks went to a higher pitch ... and his paw, like a piston, slid slickly over his member.
Adelaide chittered. Letting go of his ears and sprawling back, the back of the swivel chair bending to accompany her helpless lie-down. With legs still over the mouse's shoulders. Two fingers still in her vagina, and kissing lips peppering her pussy. A few licks to her clit, and ...
... the mouse felt her walls spasm. Felt them flutter. And he pumped his fingers to keep driving her on, and then withdrew them, squishing his muzzle to her vagina. Licking the femme juices that dribbled out ...
"Uh, uh ... uhhh ... "
He heard her chittering moans of satisfaction ... and kept licking. Kept slobbering.
"Huhh ... uh, ohyy ... oh ... " The bat tilted her head back, nose flaring. "Huh ... oh," she went, licking her fangs. Breathing hard as she emerged from the brunt of her orgasm.
"Huh, mm, mm ... mmm. Uhn, uhn ... uhh ... " Field weakly half-stood, squatting, bare rump to the garage door. "Ohhh ... ohhh," he breathed, descending into mousey squeaks as he pumped and angled his cock as her pussy. And pelted it with hot spurts of seed, which clung to her fur, dribbling slowly onto her rump-cheeks. "Huh ... oh." He sank back to his knees, light-headed.
She was about to pull her legs off his shoulders ...
... when he surprised her by diving back in. His muzzle, his lips ... spreading the seed into her fur. Around her pussy lips. And then his tongue lick-lapping it up. Cleaning her.
The bat, eyes closed, just breathed. Breathed. And sighed softly.
And, when the mouse was FINALLY done, he pulled back, sitting on his knees. Blushing hotly beneath his cheeks. His tail limp. Whiskers drooped (from the heat). And carefully taking her legs off his shoulders, so that his mate was back at a sit.
Adelaide opened her eyes. Blinked a few times.
Field smiled sheepishly.
"We better shower," she whispered softly, still trying to find her full breath. Her throat dry. She needed some water.
The mouse nodded, eyes darting, still flushed. "Yeah," he agreed, unable to hide his smile. He was almost glowing.
The bat got to a wobbly stand, stood still for a moment, and pulled her pants and such back up. "There's a bathroom in the garage here. In the other corner," she whispered.
Field nodded weakly, pulling his own pants up. Both of them were matted with sweat. Their fur AND clothing smelled of what they'd done.
"Um, you ... you got some mouse seeds," Adelaide said, giggling, pointing to the chair ... " ... spilled a bit."
"I'll clean it up," he offered. "You get in the shower. I'll be there in a minute."
"Mm." She brushed past him, and then spun to throw her winged arms around his neck, locking him in an off-guard, whisker-twitching kiss. Her own rudder-like tail wagging a bit. His tail still limp. "Mm," she went, breaking the kiss with a smack-smack. Licking her lips. Her breath warming his muzzle from this close. "I love you, Field," she whispered. Directly at him.
And his eyes watered. He stumbled over his replied, "I ... I love you, too, Adelaide. I ... thank you. You ... "
She put her fingers to his lips. Nodding to the bathroom in the corner with a smile.
He nodded back at her, and quickly fetched a towel to clean up any mess. While she disappeared into the bathroom.
Field glanced up at the clock. They still had about twenty minutes or so before everyone came back.
And, mess cleaned up, he scurried to the shower. Thin tail trailing.
"My set-ups?"
"Yeah," said Welly, nodding. "Like, how would you say that your set-ups for this track ... vary from the last track we were at? Like, generally."
"Why do you wanna know?" Kokomo asked. He was a brown-furred squirrel.
"I'm a reporter. I report on this series ... for the newspaper."
"Oh."
The skunk padded a few steps this way, and a few steps back. "The banking on this track is sharper than the banking on most of the others you race on. How does that affect ... "
"Wait, so who are you again?" the squirrel asked, squinting.
Welly sighed, leaning against the pit wall. "I write for the sports page. I cover this sport."
"What?" asked the squirrel. The hum of the purring, running engines on the track ... zipping by. Blurring some of the words.
Welly sighed and shoved a copy of his paper forward. "This was my last article," he said, the cars already on the other side of the track. They would be back again soon. It was so hard to hold a discussion down here when the cars were running. Strangely, no one seemed to lose their patience. They were probably all so used to the noise ...
"Oh."
"So, will you be interviewed? I'm doing an article for practice, one about qualifying, and one big one about the race. That's generally how I do it ... three articles per week. Sometimes, four. Sometimes, I do one in the middle of the week. Like, a general league update, and ... "
"Can't you interview someone else?" the squirrel asked, reaching for a bottle of water. Generally, one lost a few pounds (three pounds or so) during a race. So, the drivers bulked up on fluids leading up to the contest. The squirrel suckled on the water bottle, and then took his lips off it. "Mm?"
"Well, I can't interview the same furs all the time. Thought I would get your perspective. Besides, you're starting to turn some heads."
"Maybe, but ... "
"What?"
"You always hang out with that otter."
"Lumba?"
"Yeah. Yeah, you ... like, you're stuck at the hip or something." The squirrel clambered over the pit wall. Toward his car. His pit crew busy adjusting things.
"Well ... "
"Look, I don't know what your deal with her is, but I'm not telling you anything ... cause you'll tell her."
"That's ridiculous. You don't believe I'm a reporter?"
"I know you're a reporter. You're just a biased one," the squirrel said simply. "No hard feelings. Just ... you know." A little shrug. "Go talk to the predators. They love to hear the sound of their own voice. I'm sure they'll give you something."
"Yeah," Welly replied weakly. "Thanks." He sighed and padded away, a bit dejected. This was not the first time such an encounter had happened today. More than one driver had turned him away. Citing his "allegiance" to Lumba.
So, the skunk moved off. He NEEDED to have an article to write. He needed material. But, more and more, it seemed his job and his love were in conflict. He was going to have to give one of them up. But it wasn't going to be simple, either way.