Fugue
" ... and the ship?"
"Intact, Majesty, but ... our brothers were lost." The bee, bowing his head, waved his antennae. Sadly. Shiny eyes glittering like many mirrors. "I regret to inform."
The Queen's spindly legs wavered. With no surprise evident. "I sensed as much. I sensed their loss."
"Yes, Majesty." He didn't make eye contact. Just nodded, on his knees. "Shall we retrieve the empty vessel? Reconstitute it?"
"No. Let it be a resting place."
A reverent nod. "Very well." A buzz-lined, gossamer pause. "A deep-space ‘High Command' ship, the Majestic, took a bio-neural gel pack from our lost vessel's bridge. According to our monitoring network. This ‘Majestic' sent a coded communiqué back to the snow rabbit Home-world. We easily deciphered it." The bee's fuzz seemed to puff up, a bit egotistically. "Presumably, they are going to attempt to analyze it. It may take them days. Our language is mostly unknown to them." A huff. "Years, even! To analyze."
"But they will try. Yes, they are curious. The furs. Most curious."
"Furs, Majesty?" the subordinate echoed, with disdain. "That they may be. But they're messy animals, surely. We cannot have them involved with us. They will be a stumbling block for us. A source of corruption and confusion to the Hive. If, by chance, they do decipher our data ... they will stick their noses into things."
"The yellow jackets are stumbling blocks enough. They do not play fair. By far. It would be beneficial to have the furs on our side. Should this conflict escalate. They did, after all, repel the wasps. The yellow jackets know this, too. It will keep them on edge. We will be stronger for it." A pause. Nodding at her own sage-ness. "We shall need, then, a mediator ... to work as a conduit between us and the furs. If we are to be allies."
"A mediator?"
"Someone who can speak on their level."
"That is a low level to stoop to, Majesty."
She gave him a stern look.
"All they know how to do is breed! The furs."
"They achieved warp-capable space-flight, did they not?"
"Motivated, I am sure, by the thought of finding new species to have endless coitus with." A huff-buzz sound. Crossing his arms.
"I think someone is upset they were removed from harem-duty."
"I dance well, Majesty!" he insisted, pleading. Speaking of bee mating rituals. Which began with sensual dancing. "I have been working on my waggle." He stood up and shook his stinger, trying to prove it.
But the Queen denied him. "I need genetic variety to keep a strong hive. You had your turn for now. You should now do as your brothers do."
"I do not wish to ‘do' anything with my brothers ... I would sooner love-make a fur." A scrunch-face.
"That is your business. For your own time. Not mine."
His wings fluttered and buzzed. Opening his proboscis/mouth to say something ...
... but she interrupted him with, "In the meantime, I have a task for you."
He nodded, listening.
"That mediator I spoke of. Send an ‘artist bee'."
"Why not a worker? A drone?"
A stern glance. "Your impertinence is testing me today, servant. Just do as I say. Unless you want to be harvesting honey in the combs?" When he gave no response, simply lowering his head obediently, she nodded. "Now, artists are adept at expression. Communication. Understanding. An artist bee will serve a better liaison between us and the furs. Find one. Send him ... tell him to establish contact. But to take orders only from me. I shall summon my telepathic abilities to keep him up to date." A pause. "Send the one with the cello."
The servant drooped. "He is so noisy, Majesty. And he smiles too much. It is unbearable."
"Hence why I am sending him away from here."
A nod. A simple nod. Smiling, himself. "Majesty is wise. I will carry out these instructions."
"As you should. Now, buzz-buzz," she said, shooing him off with her spindly legs. And when he was gone, she tapped a button near her throne. Signaling for her harem. As the only female of her species, she had a duty. And she wasn't about to shirk on that.
S-shaky inhale, and a soft, whispered, " ... o-oh." Like her very breath was being taken from her. Like she could do nothing else in response to his solid, rich-pelted body arching against her own (rather, into her own) with such confident frequency.
The red squirrel's furry arm, left arm, dangled around his sloping neck. Loosely. So loosely, with closing fingers and a limp wrist. Her blunt-clawed toes, meanwhile, curled in the air. Her lower half wasn't touching the floor. Am I floating, she wondered? I'm holding to him, but I feel out of my mind. So hard to think. So hard to make sense of this. So, don't, Adele. Just go with it.
A throaty mew from him. Made his presence vibrate all the more.
And her pretty brown eyes finally lidded shut, helplessly ...
... as the snow rabbit, well aware of his impromptu partner's physical tics and reactions, her sounds, those soft, breathless, weakened sounds. Well aware, he screwed his chief engineer. Yes, that was crude. But wasn't it the truth? In the science lab, no less? Groping that soft, bushy-tailed rump of hers. Just outright fondling it, fingers spreading and then coming together, curling. G-grab. H-hump. That tail, goodness. The volume of it. The luxury.
" ... oh, C-cap ... captain ... " A scrunch-faced, breathless squeak. Whiskers wild. Her muzzle raised, nose to the ceiling. Her clitoris tingling like a sensitive hot-spot. She was getting louder, no doubt, as her succulent, fertile tunnel was speared into time and again, thrust after purposeful thrust. The simplicity of the motion (and of the very act itself) was lost on her. Because the feelings were so overwhelmingly complex. She could only hold on and respond to him.
Swallowing, giving a headier, more verbal mew, his paw, a paw, went to her chin. Then over her lips, her mouth. C-covering it, haphazardly. Trying to keep her quiet. Sure, the walls were soundproof enough. This was a furry ship, after all. But that never stopped things from being ‘heard.' Never.
A rodent chitter.
He sucked air, angling his so-very-stiff, pink-pink penis, humping. With rhythm. With style. His blunt, leaking head pressing to and sliding back and forth against her upper vaginal wall. He'd already found her ‘sweet spot.' He was a rabbit, after all. And determined to live up to his species' ‘reputation.'
Adele's body went into sudden, sustained spasms. Just like that. The switch was flipped. It was joyous. Her muscles rippling, fluttering in orgasm around the bare, glistening-wet shaft of flesh that was playing her like a priceless instrument. " ... a-ah ... y-a-ah! H-h ... " A squeaky, muffled ... animal yelp. S-squeak, squeak! Like being pummeled by a tidal wave, rocked by tremors of all sorts, her sex quaked, sending shockwaves through her clingy limbs. Like hitching to a tree, she hitched to the snow rabbit. Bushy, bushy tail ‘swooning' ‘til it couldn't stand upright. " ... o-oh."
The snow rabbit pushed two fingers past her buckteeth, into her muzzle, now, gently pressing down on her tongue. Trying to get her to ‘suck.'
... w-whimpering, juice visibly dribbling in clear lines off her puffy vulva and into her very thick groin-fur ... before drip-dropping onto the computer-consoles and carpet, she obeyed. Suckling on those digits. Wetting the fur. Using her tongue, the roof of her mouth. Keeping her head mostly level. She sucked, black nose flaring.
" ... s-sh ... h-hu ... " Panting, arms moving, his eyes rolled back. " ... h-hush, mm-m-hmm ... " His tongue peeked out, body leaning forward. A sharp angle. Where, just before, he'd been standing and she'd been sitting on the edge of the main science console, he was now arching over her, putting her on her back. Breath hissing past his own buckteeth as, sliding his wet, matted fingers in and out of her maw, h-he h-humped ... a few ... m-more times. F-few ... m-more ...
... she trembled. She felt it. She swore, swore on her life, that she could feel that white, milky ‘seed' flowing into her. Like a glorious, quenching antidote. Dousing the feral fire of her maddening heat. For, oh, the squirrel was in full-blown estrus. No mistake. They both knew it. But they were furs (as went the cliché, the age-old excuse), and ... it just happened. It was just happening ...
" ... o-oh, g-gaw!" the snow rabbit whined, in mid-ejaculation. Paws all over her sides. He couldn't keep them still. They just ... just roved, moved. "A-ah, y-yah ... " ... sowing her, doing his biological duty and, Lord, being awesomely rewarded for it, he huffed. And m-mewed, too. The sensitivity, the fire-working pleasure sparking up and down his spine. Clouding his brain and exciting his groin. He savored it. Like it had a taste. And, oh, it did ... it did.
Adele was clearly in afterglow, her eyes blinking but glazed over. Pupils still fully-dilated. Her mind trying to push through both the fog of what they'd done and the fog of her underlying ‘condition.' She'd never been so satisfied after breeding. Sigh after sigh, and she hardly felt like moving or speaking. But, clearly, something had to be said, right? Eventually? " ... I, uh ... u-uh, that's not ... s-sir ... "
" ... I k-know," he whispered, flushed, nodding. In need of ice water. He swallowed. Snow rabbits dehydrated quicker than other furs. And he was fairly matted. Oh, yes, he'd worked up a sweat. And you always should, really, at least to some degree. If you're doing it right, he told himself.
" ... I can transfer," she blurted out, randomly. Meaning ‘off the ship.'
A shake of the head, brow raising. "N-no. No need at all. Besides, we are far away from any outpost."
"But I ... " She licked her lips. " ... I serve under you, though. It'll be awkward."
A mirthful gleam in his eyes. "You are under me. And you have been served. But I feel no awkwardness."
An embarrassed hotness in her cheeks. She wasn't sure if she found that funny. But, then, snow rabbits had a restrained sense of humor, so what did they know about good jokes? Probably as much as mouses, Adele mused. Mouses being another joke-handicapped species; just because all their humor was cheesy and cutesy. "You know what I mean," she whispered, finally having caught her breath. For the most part, anyway.
"I do, yes. And if it makes you feel better: we shall just not speak of it ... agreed?"
"But it happened," the squirrel said. "I can't ... you know, pretend it didn't. I can't forget something like this."
"I am not asking you to." He stroked her sides, paws coming to a rest on her supple hips. He admired her loosely-hanging breasts. The sheen of her soft, reddish-brown fur. The peaks of her nipples.
" ... we'll just get in trouble. I mean ... you're not supposed to breed outside your ‘group,' right?"
"My party." A pause. And a coy, head-tilting acknowledgement of, "Not technically, no. Most snow rabbits do, now and again," he admitted. "The ‘breeding parties' aren't a perfect system by any means. But it's tradition. And gives our, shall we say, ‘infamous virility' as convenient and safe an outlet as one can hold together ... while still allowing for casual breeding. It is an uneasy but palpable compromise between sexual anarchy and sexual confinement."
A hesitant look. Lot of fancy words there. It made her blink. " ... you make it sound so technical. Like it's some kind of political arrangement for your species. Some kind of social contract."
A slight nod. "In a way, it is. But you cannot judge our culture. I am not judging yours. Rodents do not generally breed outside of mate-ships, correct?"
" ... we don't ... normally do ‘casual', no." A twitch. "This is my, uh, first time for that. I bet a lot of rodents have done it, but ... the perception and practice is that we save it for those bonds. Those relationships. We try so very hard to."
"Because of your faith? Your spirituality?"
A tiny nod. "In large part. But we're prey, you know. Emotional. We get hurt easy. We just gotta be careful ... " A breath. " ... and I, uh, wasn't judging you, though. I was just saying." A swallow, whiskers twitching.
There was a moment of silence, filled by the tiny computer-sounds, the beeps and bops, the hums. You could faintly hear the warp core beneath the carpeted deck plating. You could also hear the softened breaths of the two crew-furs.
He licked his lips after a moment, just because. " ... why did you let me do it? Just the obvious reasons?"
"I needed sated. I was in no frame of mind ... to say no," she admitted weakly, hating that answer. Feeling like an animal. But it was the truth. "I'm in heat."
"And now?"
" ... I have a clear head. Should last an hour or two. Then the ‘madness' will come back ... with gradual force. The panting, sweating, even the scent. It'll all flare back up again. Worse than ever. Once this ‘fulfillment' wears off."
"You should've remained," he said, sensing her slight discomfort, "in your quarters. Heat leave is mandatory."
"I'm the only one who can rewire the lab scanners to read that ... that damned jell-o thing the bees use to store their computer data on," she said, twitching. "I knew my heat was close to breaking when I came in here. But that was this morning. I thought I had a few more hours. ‘Til evening, at least."
"Apparently, you didn't," the snow rabbit said, properly.
"No." A twitchy breath. "And then it took longer than I thought to wire all this, and ... I stayed in here for lunch, and sometime after lunch ... " She didn't remember when, exactly. " ... sometime after that, I had finished. It's all wired and analyzing. But I just had to sit down. Started to sweat, lose my breath. Lost all focus. Track of time ... then you came in ... "
A quiet, understanding nod. He wondered if he should ‘disengage' from her body. He was growing a bit limp. So, he slowly, slowly withdrew, his limp rabbit-hood flopping aside. Dripping a mixture of fluids from its tip.
" ... I think I'm leaking on the console," she said, of herself. She was just as much in need of a shower. "I'm not gonna get electrocuted, am I?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood. Silly thing to ask, Adele. You're the chief engineer. You should know. I guess your jokes are no better than his. That's one thing you have in common: telling bad jokes.
"I should think not," he said, in response to her question. Not getting that it wasn't serious.
"Yeah ... " Her voice was shaking. The more she thought about this, the more vulnerable she felt. It's not that she didn't like the Captain. He was handsome, friendly. They got along. They were both senior officers. They saw each other several times a day. But it just wasn't appropriate. It wasn't smart. They hadn't even used protection. Adele wasn't on birth control injections, cause she didn't have a mate. And hadn't been ‘doing it' with anyone. Could rabbits get squirrels pregnant? " ... y-you ... you could've left the room, you know." She tried to sit up. But got dizzy. "Oh, gosh ... " She laid back down, twitching, legs still spread and loosely around his trim hips.
"You were giving off a stunningly strong scent. Any male would've been affected, but ... I'm a rabbit. A male rabbit."
" ... yeah, uh ... I felt that," she said. Again, trying to be light-hearted. She forced a shy, shy smile.
"So, you can understand I have less capacity for restraint. ‘Breed like rabbits' isn't in everyday language for no reason. We have little self-control. The moment I smelled you, it was bound to happen. And like you said: you were in no frame of mind to deny my advances once they'd been set into motion."
"Maybe." She closed her eyes, and then reopened them. She wasn't sure what to say. Biting her lip, she rubbed her belly, looking down.
"Lieutenant," he said. And then corrected, "Adele."
She didn't look up.
A paw slipping under her chin, he tilted her head. Upward. And saw her watery eyes. "We may have bred ‘under the influence,' but ... I believe myself proficient in pleasuring the opposite sex. I thought I had pleasured you greatly. Enough to make you happy. Yet you are crying."
A sniffle. A weak nod. " ... yeah. Well, not crying, but ... " She wiped her eyes. "You'd know if I was crying."
"I see." He wondered what he could do to assuage her. "Snow rabbits do not cry."
" ... yeah." The red squirrel calmed herself. "You did pleasure me, by the way," she assured. "Oh, my gosh, you did. It was great ... I mean, I was ... I d-don't get that loud. Normally. Or that, uh ... wet." Her cheeks flushed. "It wasn't just the heat. You were good." You sound like a gushing school-girl with a crush, Adele. Reign yourself in. He's your Captain. How many times do I have to tell you that?
"How do I know," he asked, lightly, with a polite eye-smile, still cupping her chin in a paw, "you are not just telling me this because I am your superior? Because you do not want to be written up ‘on report'?"
" ... you're being silly, now." Was it her imagination, or did his ears bend in the cutest way? And those charcoal highlights at the end of all that snowy-white? On his pelt?
"Snow rabbits are never silly." Those ears, still bend over, waggled and stood up straight.
"Not even after sex?" she asked, demurely.
His eye-smile grew. And he caressed her cheek with his fingers. "Not even," he whispered gently, in a reassuring hush. "Now, we can let this ... ‘encounter'," he said, serenely, "gnaw at us, or we can agree that it was most enjoyable." A rabbit-purr. "And not dwell on it."
Adele, at that last bit, felt a sudden pang. A rather sharp one, too. " ... what do you mean?" she asked, before she could stop herself. Quickly adding, mind reeling, "Oh. Oh, of course. I mean, you have your ‘party,' and I have ... " ... no one, she said silently. To herself. No one. " ... yeah," she whispered, deflating. Good Lord, Adele, you're emotionally attached to him? Already? You did it once! It was a freak accident coupling. Don't you know that snow rabbits don't ‘do' love?
But he hadn't become a Captain by being insensitive, or unaware of his crew-furs' feelings. " ... what is wrong?"
"Nothing," was the evasive response.
"You sound disappointed."
"I'm fine." She sat up. This time, fully able to do so. But she was naked. And she lowered her paws between her legs to cover herself. But ... but then raised them to her hanging breasts, instead, closing those thighs. Unsure what to cover, if anything. He'd already seen it all. Touched it all. Not making eye contact, she stammered, "I ... I can't reach my, uh, my pants. My bra ... "
" ... I tore off your clothes," he reminded. "They were bound to get scattered." He turned, his bare rump to her. That cotton-y fluff-tail. That bob-like thing. He had strong legs. Strong foot-paws. A good back.
She watched. She just watched him move. And liked it.
He picked up all her clothes, piece by piece. Scooped them up and brought them back to her. "Shall I avert my gaze while you dress?"
She looked up, startled. Had that been sarcasm?
His eyes, unblinking, icy-blue, locked with hers.
And she blinked first. Looking down. " ... s-sir," she said, weakly, voice breaking.
" ... call me Peyton. That is my name."
A weak head-shake, rubbing her eyes. Sniffling again.
"You can call me by my name," was the repeat.
" ... do you feel anything? After what we just did? I mean, I know it ... it wasn't planned. I know it was a hormonal thing. We weren't in control." A breath. A desperate breath. "But, still ... you didn't FEEL anything?"
"I felt a great deal."
"I'm not talking pleasure. I'm not talking physical ... physical pleasure-stuff. I mean in here," she mouthed, putting a paw against his broad chest. "Your heart." She sounded so fragile at this.
"My ability to ‘feel' as you ‘feel' ... is like comparing apples to oranges. As the saying goes. I do feel. Believe me. But it cannot be expressed in the same terms."
A sigh. "Okay ... " She cleared her throat, briefly touching her breast, the one over her heart. It was beating with an aching vitality. Lowering her paw, she struggled to get her bra back on. Forget about the bra, Adele. Just get the shirt. Just get yourself covered. Just make sure you're not vulnerable anymore.
"You are stewing," he guessed.
"Yes," she blurted, with more force than intended. Which then caused her to hesitate apologetically, before continuing, "Do I need to spell it out to you? Even if it's just an inkling, a seedling, a start of something ... " A twitchy breath. " ... it's there. And there's no chance of us being able to nurture it into more, is there? Cause I wouldn't mind. I wouldn't mind trying, at least. I know it's stupid, but ... "
He looked to her.
" ... that's what's gnawing at me, now. Not that we had a moment of indiscretion. I mean, it happens all the time. Furs are furs. Heat is heat. I should've stayed in my quarters. I was pushing my luck. Maybe, subconsciously, I was doing it on purpose ... hoping I'd end up with someone. Cause I'm so lonely." It felt painfully raw to be saying these things, especially to him. " ... maybe I was hoping someone would end up with me." A sheepish look. " ... I just didn't think it'd be you. You didn't tell me you were coming down here. I would've locked the door."
"Generally, one tries to attract a mate with personality. Not pheromones."
A lonely twitch. "I don't know. Sometimes, you gotta do whatever works ... " She squirmed, feeling matted. Messy. "Point is ... "
" ... yes?" His waggle-ears raised. As he bent down to pick up his cotton briefs, slipping one foot-paw into them. The other. Pulling them up.
" ... you, as a rabbit, might prefer to do things for the sake of them. Things like that. Like what we did." A pause. "But I want purposes in life ... to find a meaning to everything. Reasons. To build on."
"I thought we had established why we ... "
"That's not ... those aren't reasons," she spat, almost angry now.
"They are." He maintained an in-control tone. Level-headed, calm.
"Those are influences. Those aren't reasons. Reasons are ... " She shook her head, twitching uncontrollably. " ... you don't understand. You just ... you can't understand."
Peyton paused. " ... why do I suddenly feel like I am being blamed for something?" He scratched his neck. "I do not like the implication. What is it they say? It takes ‘two to tango'? What we did was only half me. You were there, too. The whole time. Feral or not."
Adele, panting, shook her head slowly. " ... I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything like that." Her tail flickered. " ... I'm more upset at myself."
"For what?"
"I don't know. Not being very secure. Lacking confidence. My faith is a bit cynical, sometimes. I need to be more wide-eyed. I pray about it, but ... " She shook her head. " ... I guess this is bad for my staff performance evaluation, huh? Admitting stuff like that? I'm better at fixing engines and shuttle-pods than I am my own ... my own problems." A twitch. "That's why I got into engineering. I liked being able to actually fix things. To not only know what was wrong, but to correct them. To make everything work so smoothly that it hums." A breath. "Well, that, and I like working with my paws. I don't like sitting around. I know I'm sitting right now, but, uh ... that's different."
"I see."
She hesitated, before asking, " ... why did you get into command?"
"The command track?"
A nod.
"I hop before I think. I'm brash. I'm strong-willed. I like to explore, I like to make things happen. It was much better suited for me than mechanics or sciences. I am twenty-five, and I have my own ship. I would say I made the right decision."
"Yeah. Uh, makes sense. Sir ... uh, P-peyton. I'm all hormones right now. It makes me weird. Don't think I'm this neurotic all the time. I don't normally get this way after breeding. I can do cuddling, hugging, all that nice, sweet stuff. I really can." She fought the urge to corral her tail and hug it to her chest. "It's just been so long since I've done anything even remotely romantic. I guess this wasn't ‘romantic,' but ... it's the closest I've gotten. In a while. I'm rusty."
"I do not believe so," he said, gently. "You are just shy."
" ... yeah. Well, I've never considered myself ‘shy.' Anti-social, maybe, but ... " Her buckteeth biting her lower lip, the squirrel lowered her head. Sniffling. A small shake. The red squirrel, angular ears flattening against her head-fur, began to cry.
And the snow rabbit, only in his briefs, paused. And hesitated. "Is this real crying, this time?" he asked, unsure.
A sniffled, muffled nod, face in her paws.
Believing it the proper thing to do, he hugged the squirrel, who was only in her shirt. "Come here," he whispered.
A sobbing gasp for air, clutching at his chest-fur.
"Come here," he repeated, paws moving to the back of her head. And the nape of her neck. He held her, stroking softly.
" ... a-am I ... p-pregnant?"
"Unlikely," he soothed. "Our species are compatible, but barely so ... low single digit odds. No more than five percent. Had you been a mouse, maybe ten."
A weak nod. "I'm still in heat. It's gonna come back. I can ... g-go to my quarters and shut myself in there for the next thirty-six hours, but ... "
" ... you do not want to be alone?"
She looked up at him, eyes a bit red.
"I could," he said, cautiously, "help you further. With your condition. Provide the ... the ‘antidote,' perhaps? Until you are better. And, to be safe, I could discreetly fetch you a birth control injection from sickbay. If you are too ... shy," he said, using that word again, "to ask for one yourself."
"Pretty sure the crew would find out what we were doing. What we did." More sniffles. And a tiny cough. "You have a reputation, you know. The tension between you and Annika. It's very public. She claims you enjoy ‘tail' too much to ‘settle down' with anyone. She says your stubborn. I've seen how she challenges you on the bridge, and you sorta ... back down a bit."
" ... I know what she says," Peyton replied, after a moment. Carefully. "Not all of it is unwarranted, I admit. But Annika has been betrayed and hurt by many furs, snow rabbits and not ... she has seen more than I have. I was stationed on the Home-world during the wars. She was on the front lines. Sometimes behind the lines. She can be harsh in her judgments because she has been treated harshly."
"But you're still attracted to her? You admire her in some way? You'd sleep with her if she wanted? Today, even?"
No response.
She waited, though.
" ... yes," he whispered.
"Thought so." She sniffled, wiping her face with her paws.
"I will not apologize for ‘liking tail.' It is like wine. To use an allusion. You do not drink one variety for the duration of your life. You indulge in several, depending on the mood ... or the meal. Each has a distinct pleasure and taste." A pause. "I have bred with half the femmes on the ship ... and I do not regret it. It has not interfered with any of our missions."
She swallowed. Trying to make sense of that. It didn't seem possible! "There are ... thirty femmes on Majestic. Give or take. Half are snow rabbits, so ... crew's half snow rabbit. Means a quarter of the crew is femme snow rabbits ... right? Am I right? You're telling me you've bred every single femme snow rabbit on this ship? You've been inside, like, fifteen crew-furs since we left space-dock two months ago?"
" ... sixteen," was the correction, locking eyes. With her.
Adele's cheeks burned. " ... oh." Her paws. She closed them. "Right." Her voice barely audible. "Right." Why did this have to be so complicated? " ... should I be, uh ... should ... "
" ... I am quite ‘clean.' Do not worry."
A barely-made nod.
"Majestic's breeding party is unusually large, I admit. A normal ‘party' consists of eight to fourteen rabbits. But, because we are on deep-space/border patrol, and will not return home for two years ... ours has thirty. Basically everyone. Less rivalry and friction that way. Much easier." A pause. "Well ... twenty-nine. Annika left. But she will be fucking that mouse by tomorrow, I assure you," he said, with an apparent tinge of something. Obviously, Annika had impacted him more than his other ‘partners.' He's not over her, Adele realized. So, he doesn't love her. But he's got some kind of attachment. To some aspect of her personality or body or something. Well, what did you expect? He just admitted he'd sleep with her again.
" ... that's a very harsh word. The, uh ... that word," Adele said, of his cursing. "Say love-making, swooning, something. Breeding."
"My choice of adjectives was entirely appropriate," he said, steely and undeterred. Distracted, even.
A sigh, raising her arms in a ‘helpless' gesture. And then letting them flop back down. "Fine. If they start ‘fucking,' I'll let you know," the red squirrel promised, distracted herself. She was in shock, honestly, by his blunt, brazen admissions. Just when she thought she was getting to know him ...
" ... excuse me?" was the surprised, blinking question. Peering at her through suddenly-squinted eyes.
"Oh, no. I mean ... " She swallowed and quickly explained, "My quarters are next to his. Denison's. Mouses are squeakers. I'll know if they're consummating anything. But, uh, he won't do anything with her unless they've taken mating vows ... and, well ... okay, come to think of it, male mouses are pretty submissive. He'll probably end up moving into her quarters. Her bed. So, they probably won't do it in his."
"Squeakers? How do you know this?"
She met his gaze. "Common knowledge." A pause. A twitch, having to ask, "Sixteen? You're really serious? Why? How can you handle that?"
"Snow rabbits do not get emotionally attached. As a rule."
"I don't believe that. Look at Captain Aria. Look at Annika. Your species is adopting the ‘habit' of romance. Why not you?"
"Because not all of us feel in ‘existential crisis.' Or spiritually empty. I am perfectly happy with myself. Like I said," he repeated, "each partner, each femme is like a different ‘fine wine.' With distinct differences to savor and enjoy, subtle as they may be. Why deny myself the pleasure? If all parties are willing? It is a natural, biological urge."
"Cause it's immature!"
He gave her a puzzled look.
"I don't know," she amended. "It's ... says something about you." She rubbed her eyes, swallowing. "Plenty of reasons to deny it. I swear, if this were a Federation ship, you'd be in so much trouble."
"Furs on Federation ships do not ‘fraternize'?"
"Not with their entire crew!"
"One-quarter," he corrected, properly, "of the crew. If that."
"It's a conflict of interest. If you're sleeping with half the femmes under your command, I mean ... they have a ‘pull' over you, right? And what if a dangerous mission comes up? You might hesitate to send you ‘favorite partners' into harm's way, and might send a ‘lesser favorite' ... the whole thing is messed up."
"I am under their ‘pull,' as you put it, but ... they are also under mine. It evens out. If you cannot handle the cultural differences of my species, that is fine. But do not declare me a ‘bad fur' because I do not meet your subjective standards."
Adele craned her neck, rubbing it. Closing her eyes. "I'm not saying you're bad. I'm just ... trying to get you to go for something different." She rubbed her cheeks. Her whiskers. "Do you have faith?"
"A private one. Not as strong as yours, no doubt."
" ... take a bigger leap of faith, then. Where's the harm?"
"Give me one good reason I should," he challenged, logically.
"Me," was the frail, simple response.
"You?"
"Yeah ... I mean, I was trying to get to that, wasn't I, before you ... " She flushed. " ... explained your habits." A swallow. "I mean, this started out as nothing, but why can't we make ‘something from nothing'?"
"How about this," was his counter-proposal. "You join my breeding party."
"What?" she went, eyes widening at what she considered to be a shocking proposal.
"It would take some coaxing, but the others would let you in."
"No, no, no ... look, I'm not opening myself up for every male ‘buck' on the ship!"
"Why not? You would enjoy it." He said it very convincingly.
She almost huffed! " ... yeah, I'm sure they would, too." She rolled her eyes. "I don't care. That's not the point. I don't wanna give myself out in a million little pieces. I wanna be whole. Pure. I'm looking for a duet. Not an ... an orgy." This time, she did corral her tail into her grasp. Hugging it, like a blanket, to her chest. Covering her breasts with it.
"And, as you have no doubt surmised, I cannot submit to that arrangement on a permanent basis."
A sigh!
A blink from him.
A twitch, nodding. Sitting up straight. Smoothing her belly-fur. " ... well, then I guess that's that," she muttered, squeakily, angular ears cocking.
"I guess so." He stood still for a moment longer, and then slowly bent down to pick up his pants. "You are on ‘heat leave,' Lieutenant. Stay in your quarters. Spreading your heightened scent while in a ‘feral' state ... while in mixed company? Would further disrupt ship operations. That is why we have strict regulations against it."
She mumbled something under her breath.
"You have something to say?" he asked, buttoning his pants. Raising his arms to slip his shirt back on.
"I said how it's funny ... how sex is regulated on a ship run by horny hoppers. You'd almost think those ‘rules' are just for show. And I don't care if I'm judging your species' culture now or not: you might think you're enlightened about sex. But you're immature and terrified of intimacy. Any denial of that is an outright lie."
"I have no need for intimacy. It is inherently emotional. And my emotions are suppressed," was his too-logical explanation.
"Keep on saying that," the squirrel retorted, voice shaking. Asking herself, Lord, what have I gotten myself into?
There was an awkward silence.
The snow rabbit's ears waggling, and his bobtail flickering like a holy-white flame. Those big, loping foot-paws stretching bit by bit. As they both fully dressed. Peyton, gazing off (at nothing in particular), thought for a moment. And said, as Adele began to pad away, wondering if he was going to regret this, " ... I will show up at your door this evening. After my shift," he decided. "If you so desire more."
" ... alright," she said, slowly. Stopping. Her back to him. " ... but if I smell female rabbits on you, I'm turning you away."
An ironic blink. "Is that an order?"
"Depends." She turned her head. And then half her body.
"On?"
"How much you want another taste of ‘squirrel wine'."
An audible breath. Eye-smiling. And, with that eye-smile, breaking the tension that had been growing between them. "It went down elegantly ... richly," he said, "and smoothly. I wouldn't be adverse to more." A smooth mew-sound. "I hear that ‘squirrel wine' has an agility to it. Very flexible. And a fine tail at the end. I only explored the more static qualities, so ... more would be rather necessary, yes? To get the full intoxicating effect?"
She blushed beneath her red-brown fur. Pleased, really, by ... well, coming from a rabbit, that was quite a compliment. And, hey, she was a sucker for poetic turns of phrase. " ... yeah?" she went, softly.
"Mm-hmm." An eye-smile. "I do not know why I would agree to your terms. Other than ... I simply have not tried it. Romance, I mean. Perhaps there is something to it? Perhaps I can prove to you that I can resist its pull?"
"I'll have you mated to me in less than a week."
"I bet not." His eyes glowed. Those in command always liked a challenge. He wasn't going to back down, now.
" ... shake paws?" She turned fully, extending an arm. "If I win, and you fall for me, you make me your wife ... and promote me to lieutenant-commander."
"That is hardly discreet."
"I'm sure ‘snow rabbits' promote bedfellows all the time ... "
He didn't deny it. Only asking, "And if we do not end up mated? What do I win?"
"Well," she said, honestly. "I know, after I said all I said about not wanting to end up in a million pieces ... but if you don't mate me, and we're out here for two more years, and the only free male left on the ship is about to get taken by Annika? Then I might as well join your breeding party." A head-tilt. "Or I'll be alone for a long, long time. And ... truthfully, I don't think I could endure it." There was a mature pain in her voice. That was quite poignant.
He raised his brow. "Very well." And, with that, he shook her paw. "Deal. You will enjoy being in our breeding party," he said, mirthfully. "It is quite pleasurable, I assure you."
"Not as much as being lost in romance. Not nearly as much. You'll enjoy that even more." She returned his mirth with an actual, hopeful smile. "Later," she said, exhausted. Blowing out air as she stepped through the swishing doors.
" ... wait," he called.
She stopped again, turning around. Again. Looking to him.
"After all we did today, we never once kissed on the lips. Isn't that traditional? Amongst romantics? A kiss before departures?" He wasn't entirely sure how this all worked.
And her sighing, hopeful, melt-y response was, "Save that for after you tell me you love me." Looking both ways down the corridor, she finally scampered to her quarters (before anyone detected her; goodness, she needed to shower).
As he watched her go, the snow rabbit tilted his head. She was quite a stubborn squirrel, yes. But earnest, genuine. Down to earth. Trustworthy, with a quirky smile. And the way she moved indicated a flexibility, body-wise, that had some delicious possibilities. And why, he wondered, did I not notice how beautiful her tail was before?
He blinked, licking his lips.
Ice water, yeah.
Now.