If That Isn't Love
One snowy-white foot-paw was on the pale-blue carpet, toes wriggling in random bliss. While the other was in the air, leg bent, knee up, and pink, silky panties dangling, the fabric swaying with the unsteady motion of her body. As the snow rabbit, her shirt gone (though her bra still on), leaned back on the red couch-cushions. The vole's paws on her warm, soft thighs, keeping her legs open. Paw-pads caressing in little circles.
Aria swallowed. Let loose a huff of air. Inhale. Huff!
While Ross, the meadow mouse (her mate of three months), was on his knees. On the floor. Between the coffee table and the couch, and (naturally) between her legs. Like her, he was wearing nothing. His clothes several feet away, in a bit of a haphazard pile.
That's normally how things happened when you were young and in love: quickly.
None of it mattered, though. The location of the clothes. Their exact physical positions. Minor details in a scene.
The meadow mouse's muzzle, in full contact with her, pressed forward. Closer. Stopped. Sounds. Of slick licks and slurping sucks. Hot, close, and sensual ... as his muzzle eased back, almost to the point of breaking contact with her body. Her femininity. But, again, he muzzle-humped in. Nose and lips between those folds. Closer. Make use of your tongue. Such a passionate one, the vole. Ease back. Press in.
Leaving Aria to give her hot huffs, and her yearning, rising rabbit-mews. It was no news that mice were naturally submissive. That they were the best at ... doing ... this ...
... his lips pursing, nibbling. Breath hot and quick and rushing, whiskers brushing all the pinks of her. All the wet, glistening patches of sensitive flesh. Breathing her with every needy breath. The taste! The scent! His furry, rodent instincts, his male intuition. That led him into such a frenzied focus on his task ...
... that he could only nibble her up! Nibble her up ...
... to make her huff (even more). Out of such an act, such feeling.
Such love.
The vole's modest, lapping tongue flickered on her hooded nub.
Causing her to quiver. Her panties finally falling from her dangling foot-paw (and to the carpet). Huff! Swallow. Huff ...
... him, too, huffing. Finally coming up for cooler, fresher air. Swallowing, squeaking lightly upon excited exhales. And, in the dimness of their apartment, meeting eyes. And holding that contact.
Hazel to ice-blue.
Outside their fourth-story windows (with the blinds only lowered half-down), Downtown Indianapolis. Where they were living. The skyline. Rows of lit-up windows and blinking red spires. Neon-blue letterings on building-faces. The glowing white of the Chase Tower's crown. And, nearer by, roofs of places. And trees. But farther out (indeed, farthest), the rising, orange moon. Somewhat obscured by cloud wisps.
The meadow mouse swallowed, twisting his naked, furry body round a bit. To grab the bottle of ice-water on the coffee table. He took a swig for himself. But only quickly, and just a bit ... immediately deferring the bottle to Aria.
The snow rabbit nodded her gratitude, fur damp from sweat. Her eyes half-open. She pulled open the bottle-top and squirted water into her hot, dry muzzle. Putting her lips, finally, on the 'nipple' of the bottle, and greedily suckling the liquid.
Ross stroked her thighs while she drank. Ran his fingers up and down her vulva, the lips of her labia. Very, very delicately. As if not to be touching her at all. And, all the while, neck leaning back a bit ... so as to be looking up at the sitting rabbit (from his kneeling position on the floor). His look was one of devotion ...
She shivered, swallowing. Paused to breathe. And gulped more water.
Snow rabbits, being from the North, coming from the ice ... got dehydrated very easily when exposed to heat. (Much more suited for the cold.) On warm days, she would have to drink twice the amount of water an average fur would. When making love, it was a necessary thing: to stop a few times during the act ... to let her drink. To keep her hydrated. To keep her energy up.
The vole didn't mind. Was patient. And loved her. And knew he had his own quirks. His own things ... his own emotional weaknesses. How she put up with him ...
Aria emptied the bottle. The sound of dry sucking, and she let it fall to the couch cushions. Sighing heavily.
"You okay?" was Ross's effeminate, quiet voice. Which was like a lifeline in the dark.
A nod. "Yes."
"I'll go refill the water bottle."
"We can continue," she insisted, in her level tone, panting lightly. Having cooled down.
"It's okay." The meadow mouse got (shakily) to the soles of his foot-paws. Stood for a moment, gaining his balance. And then proceeded.
"I do not wish to interrupt the ... flow," she insisted, "of this." Always one for logic. Always one for order. They had that in common, at least: the want (more of a need, really) to have things organized. To have things clean.
To stay pure.
He gave her a shy, easy smile. "Darling, it's ... it's fine," was his repeat. Bare. At the sink. Their apartment was a bit small. It was on the campus of the urban university. The two mates both in college. Her for technology. Him for art.
The sound of the faucet running. The bottle, lid off, being filled. And then ice being added. Soon, the vole was back. The water bottle was on the table again, and both of them were ready to resume.
It was late on Sunday night.
Class tomorrow, but ...
... not late enough to sleep. Not yet.
Too much to love, to taste, make, and feel.
Do.
Settling back on the floor, between her ...
" ... legs. You ... you walk too fast!" Ross accused, scurrying after her.
"I do?" An eye-smile. The kind that only ice-furs could do.
"Yes!" Pant, pant. "Those ... those loping rabbit legs. Like you were built to run marathons."
"Provided we've water, snow rabbits have excellent long-term stamina. As well as strong leg muscles."
"Well, I KNOW ... I know that," said the vole insistently, at her side. On a grey sidewalk in the park. White River State Park. Mid-morning on Saturday, and the sun so bright! And the air warm (but not hot). The skyscrapers (most of them modest, maybe, compared to bigger cities, but ... for someone of rural birth and background, like Ross, they never failed to impress).
"However, if I recall my inter-species physiology ... mice are excellent sprinters. And very energetic." The last fact was something she'd, indeed, witnessed first-paw.
"Sprinters," emphasized Ross. "Bursts and fits of energy, not, like ... having LOTS of energy isn't the same as having stamina," he argued. "You know?"
"I do not." Her white, puffy bob-tail flicker-flicked behind her as she walked. Her foot-paws stepping with such calculated elegance. An elegance that didn't go unnoticed by his eyes.
"Well ... " He sighed as they went, biting his lip. Trying to figure out how to say what it was he wanted to say. "Well, like ... like, okay, my body produces a lot of energy."
"Yes."
"Nervous energy. Fidgeting ... energy. Like, I can't stay still for very long."
"You like to squirm and wriggle."
A flush. "Well ... yes, but ... I have energy. But I don't have STAMINA. YOU, though, have stamina ... but not my ENERGY."
"Is not the definition of stamina 'enduring strength and ENERGY' ... ?"
"Yes, but my energy doesn't endure. It comes in patches."
"Never-ceasing patches. Hyper," she said, "patches."
"Aria!"
"What?" she asked innocently.
A sigh. His whiskers twitched absently, and his nose couldn't stop sniffing. "I just ... don't walk so fast! Is all I'm saying! I'm having a hard time matching your pace," he said, his voice trailing to a whisper.
"Very well."
"Just don't ... lope away on me," he continued. Expressing, perhaps, a subconscious fear of having finally found (after all this time!) love. Only to have it fly away.
"I will not." A pause. "I think you like the word 'lope' ... I think you like rabbit words."
"What? Why would I like rabbit words ... "
"Because you like ME." An eye-smile.
"I feel like I'm being teased here," Ross said, whiskers still twitching, and his tail snaking about.
"Not at all," she assured genuinely.
They passed beneath a sycamore. Near an open area, where an amphitheater was. Limestone seats coming out of the grass and soil, rising up a slope. And fur-made waterfalls, and branches of the canal that streamed all over ... and on the bigger stretches of the canal, anchored gondolas. Weeping willow trees were spaced about, dropping, looking their peaceful selves. And oaks, too, dropping their acorns on you. Seemingly giggling, the oaks, silently ... as they dropped acorns on your head and ears and shoulders, causing you to jump, bark, squeak, hiss, or whatever ...
"I gotta ... hold on," said Ross.
"Mm?" the snow rabbit arched her brow, stopping. They were partly in shade. The light dappling on their fur. So far, the snow rabbit, from the barren tundra where she'd grown. And the meadow mouse? Out of his element in the city ... but they'd come here together. Started this together. They were planning a future ... together.
One plus one.
"Gonna take a ... a picture." The mouse fumbled for his camera. Digital. Six MP's. Could fit easily in his pocket, and ... it wasn't, like, a super-camera, like the kind they used for magazines and newspapers. Didn't have one of those telescope lenses or anything. It was just a digital thing (and he preferred digital over film, which would elicit squints of suspicion from the 'artsy' furs) ... but, anyway, with the resources he had ... his talent overcame any disadvantage in equipment and et cetera.
His ability would shine through.
He could capture things (in words, in photos). Things no one else saw.
Things that only a lifelong rural eye would ever really notice.
Aria waited patiently while Field zoomed in on a scene. The meadow mouse one for taking scenes of 'still life,' or 'scenery' ... nature, mostly. That was his strength and specialty. Scenes. Not events or furs or things ...
Click!
Picture taken. Bend a little, holding the camera out, and ... click! (Again.)
"One in color, and one in black and white," Field explained to her. "Though the black and white shot is from a lower angle. Gets more sky."
A nod from her ... and an eye-smile.
A blink. A flush. Pocketing his camera. "What?" he whispered, as behind them, in the grassy areas, furs threw frisbees ... or just lounged. The park wasn't as busy mid-morning as it would be later. Not that it was ever CROWDED ... unless there an event going on IN the area. But, compared to the lunch-time strollers and walkers and loungers ... it was pretty sparse right now.
The park was filled with museums: the Indiana State Museum, the Eiteljorg Museum for Native American and Western Art ... the NCAA Headquarters & Hall of Champions ... as well as other places. Victory Field, the minor-league ballpark. The waning RCA Dome (soon to be replaced by the high-tech Lucas Oil Stadium, which was being built right beside it ... you could see the cranes). And across the pedestrian bridge: the Botanical and Butterfly Gardens, and the Indianapolis Zoo.
And that was just in the state park area ...
... but, they, right now, the two of them ... they were going to the zoo.
"Aria?"
"Mm?" They were walking, turning ... making for the bridge. The skyline of the city was very close and hazy behind them. Looking at it from the west, as they would do, the light coming from the other side was swallowing everything up. All lemon-like. You couldn't see the Circle from here, where the center of the city was. The Soldiers and Sailors Monument (one of Ross's favorite things here), and the big mall, and all that ... the view, though, from here, was very good.
Even for one who vowed not to get stuck in the city. Or ever really get too attached to it. "This is only temporary," Ross would assure. "When we're done here, doing what we need to do ... we'll be back in the countryside."
Aria had no problems with that, so ...
It was just a matter of ... well, lots of details, and time, and stuff. For now, they were here. Just the way it was. Mated college furs with just enough money to get by.
They were still walking. Still going.
Ross still asking, "Why'd you eye-smile ... when I had my camera out?"
"Because I wished to. Because I like watching you create." A tilt of her head, and her tall, slender ears. "Because it gives you joy. You're good at it ... like very few furs honestly are." She waggled her ears. A gesture of playfulness. "And you shouldn't have erased those pictures."
"What? What pictures ... "
"From yesterday." A knowing glance. "From last night."
A flush. "Oh ... " Ears going rosy-pink as they went. The sun on their backs. "I didn't. I just ... I put them on the computer. Saved them there. So ... you know, I'll print them myself." A pause. His voice hushed, as if thinking they were being eavesdropped on. "You don't get THOSE kinds of pictures developed at a drugstore."
"No?" Another eye-smile. Egging him on.
"No. And ... I didn't wanna leave 'em on the camera. I get paranoid like that." A pause. "When you grow up in a small house with three siblings, you carry a healthy paranoia about privacy ... "
"Well, I would like to see them ... "
"Well, I'll ... print them later, then."
"I will help you," she said, still eye-smiling, and still in her Arctic demeanor. Ice furs, by nature, coming from such harsh environmental confines ... had developed an instinctual state of 'emotional freeze.' Their true emotions so volatile, so feral ... that they needed to be kept from any REAL thawing. For, if unleashed, they'd be uncontrollable. It was just ... how they were. How God had made them.
They weren't cold. Despite Ross's overhearing his mate being referred to as an "Ice Queen" ... a thing of astounding beauty but no personality and no sense of fun. Made him mad when furs didn't look deeper. When they didn't want to put forth the EFFORT.
But snow rabbits weren't bad. Not at all.
Just ... they didn't express their feelings in the same ways.
They were unique, and Ross, being rather unique himself, seemed to understand. And liked it.
"Are we agreed?" Aria asked, bringing the subject to a close.
A blink. "Yeah ... mm ... " An absent nod. Remembering ...
... Friday night, lit only by a lamp, her white fur naturally reflective. And bold shadows surrounding her limbs. Bare, on the sheets, and on pillows, too. In the bedroom.
"Hold ... yes, that," Ross whispered, looking intently at the little screen on his camera. Perfectly framed. He turned off the flash (cause it would make her fur TOO bright, and skew the natural warmth of the room), and ...
... click!
Aria, breathing softly, sat up. "Did it turn out?"
"Beautiful," Ross whispered, licking his lips. Nodding. "Um ... yes." He gave her the camera.
"Black and white. A good choice. Accentuates the lights and darks." An approving nod.
"Yeah. Mm ... well, I've done a few color ones, too, it's just ... since it's NIGHT, you know, and you've got white fur, I just ... " He shyly held out his paws.
She gave him the camera back. "I shall sit on my shins this time."
"Sounds good ... " A nod. The meadow mouse, too, was bare.
It had been HER idea, actually. He'd resisted at first. He'd insisted it would make him feel 'silly.' But, in her soothing, stable way, she'd countered his fears with rational responses. It was just a bit of ... well, a suggestion of foreplay. And they were mates (certified by a mating ceremony at their church). Why couldn't they have a sense of play?
What was wrong with that?
For them to take stylish, nude pictures of one another ... and to even use a tripod, and the automatic timer ... so they could take pictures of themselves wrapped around each other, limbs entangled, or kissing, or ... anything. Just take pictures.
In other words: look, but don't touch. Ramp yourself up a bit ... build anticipation.
Have fun.
So, that's what they were doing.
"Ready," the snow rabbit breathed. Froze.
Click!
And she shifted a bit. Lowering her head. On her shins, her knees, and paws on the sheets. Her ice-blue eyes intense, and her slender ears folding forward, almost hiding one of her eyes. Her white, snowy breasts hanging loosely, nipples a soft, soft pink.
Ross took a deep breath. Swallowed. And squatted a bit, moving an inch this way.
"Perhaps you should do a count," she advised. "I'm often ready before you are."
"Uh ... okay. Well ... one, two ... " He leaned closer to her, one eye open, looking to the camera screen, and the other eye shut. "Three?"
Click!
A blink. And she sat up, asking, "Was 'three' a question or a statement?"
"I don't know. Mm ... "
"I think that is cute."
"Me not knowing?" His whiskers twitched. Chest rising and falling with his breaths.
"You being flustered like this. In this manner. In this situation."
"Oh."
"It is your turn," she said.
"To be photographed?"
"Among other things, yes." A polite nod of the head.
"Um ... here."
She swung her legs off the bed, and fully stood. "I do KNOW how to use a camera. I may not have your 'eye,' but ... "
"It's okay. I know. Um ... how should I ... " The vole looked around, whiskers twitching. Nose sniffing. Pupils dilated.
"You seem ... distracted?"
"Mm?" A look to her.
"We are mates. There is no need for embarrassment at this ... at taking pictures like this. We had this discussion not twenty minutes ago ... "
"I'm not embarrassed," he offered, cheeks flushed. Ears rosy-pink and swiveling, gorged with blood.
She blinked. "Then what?"
A huff of breath. "I wanna yiff you up a wall, is what ... " He sounded so cutely desperate. "I just ... I've been looking at every curve and limb and breast and ... strand of fur on you ... for the past half hour. And I haven't ... "
" ... yiff me up a wall?" An eye-smile. Eyes crinkling with mirth.
A smile from him, which turned into a giggle-squeak. "It just means, like ... "
" ... you want it bad? Bad enough that the force of it ... would put us up a wall?"
"Something like that," was his quiet, bashful admittance.
She stared at him with interest.
He gave a whisker-twitching tilt of the head.
She gave a mew from the throat. A happy sound. "Well ... I suggested this activity for our enjoyment. So we could relax, and wind-down, and ... soak each other in," she said, "before ... I didn't mean for it to frustrate you. I didn't mean to put you in a tizzy."
"I'm not frustrated," he insisted. "I don't know." A pause. "Just hyped up. But that's not a tizzy. Tizzy has a bad connotation. I don't do tizzies."
"Of course not." She nodded, understanding. Though one had to wonder if there was a bit of teasing in her tone.
"I don't know." A pause. "I'm not used to being able to let my guard down around anyone ... I mean, I wasn't, you know, until you ... and here I am, taking nude pictures, and ... and I love you so much, and I'm foot-paws over nose, and ... it's just a different feeling. Sometimes, it trips me up. And I get all dumbfounded." He trailed, and took a deep breath through the nose.
"Believe it or not," she assured silently, "you have the same affect on me ... I believe it is called," she said, eyes darting, mind searching, and then looking directly at him, "being love-struck."
A warm smile. "Yeah," he whispered. He bit his lip, holding his tail in his paws, and ... met her eyes. "Yeah."
Aria nodded. And, now having his camera, playfully announced, "Well, now that we are continuing ... I would like you on all fours."
"Mm?" was his squeaky sound.
"For the camera. I would like you on all fours."
"On the, uh ... bed? Or floor, or ... "
"We will try you multiple ways."
A giggle-squeak.
An eye-smile. "Did I say something wrong?"
"You KNOW what you said ... 'try you multiple ways' ... "
"I believe you are making a double entendre out of an ENTIRELY innocent," she claimed, "statement."
Giggle-squeak! "Whatever ... you have a sense of humor, Aria. I KNOW you do ... I've seen it. I know when you're making a joke."
"Snow rabbits do not joke."
"Oh, yes they do!"
Her eyes sparkling, she tilted her head. "Do you object to that?"
"No ... "A shy shake of the head. Nose sniffing, and ears dishy. Slender, mousey body, alive with the energy of the moment, all twitches and sniffs and ... all that stuff! Quite a contrast to her calm, graceful, composed posture.
And, with him in position, and her crouching to get the right angle ...
... click!
Click!
Click!
"I have never seen a creature with such colors."
"It's a lorikeet. From Australia ... mm ... whoa ... " Ross ducked. As one of the tropical birds fluttered overhead. They were in the tropical aviary at the zoo.
Aria squinted.
Ross, noticing, asked, "You okay?"
"My eyes don't take well to such ... blinding color. It's hard to process." Blink-blink, trying not to stare too long at the rainbow-ish bird feathers.
"We can ... we can go ... "
"No," she whispered. "You love birds." The vole was a bird-watcher. They would, in their walks in the park, just be strolling ... when he would point his paw and go all excited-like, stammering about how he'd just seen a green heron! A goldfinch! A barn swallow! "You've wanted to get avian close-ups ... "
"You sure, though?"
"Yes."
A little nod, and ...
... they wandered under branches, and onto a little, wooden bridge.
A searing orange-yellow-black bird perched there, on the railing. It was clacking its beak and squawking. Looking quite scary, if one were to be honest. "Cherry ... cherry ... "
"Oh, my gosh, it's talking!" Ross chittered with glee. Hadn't expected that! And he knelt down to the bird's eye-level, camera zooming, focusing.
Aria squinted carefully at the bird. Unlike Ross, keeping her distance. "It seems to have a fondness for ... "
" ... cherry! Cherry!"
" ... cherries." The rabbit's slender, antennae-like waggle-ears were brushed by a branch-hopping bird (which was green and blue). She turned, looking up, a bit startled. No prey fur, no matter their environment, ever reacted well to the stimulus of bird shadows ... swooping, talons raking ... her heart pounded. Eyes wildly moving about.
"I got the picture," said Ross, standing, seeing his mate's discomfort. He took her paw. "We can go ... " The vole, afraid of many things, and mice being such total prey ... was, in this rare instance, the stronger of the two. And he gave her his strength ... shared it. Squeezed her paw.
A quiet nod from her.
And they left the aviary.
They ambled around the zoo. Chatting with each other, him giggling, her making observations. Him taking pictures. Her giving him encouragement. They watched the swimming and sunning harbor seals and the ('they are kind of homely, aren't they') ostriches ... and went and saw the sea-horses.
"Incredible," was Aria's decree, upon walking around tubular, aquariums ... all filled with sea horses. Their tails wrapped around plant stems. Their bodies bobbing. She analyzed them intently. Ross following.
And they saw penguins, and turtles, and rhinos. And elephants.
"Elephants remind me of cows," Ross said.
"In what way?" Aria made a face, unsure as to what he meant.
"Well, elephants and cows ... they're both big and lumbering. They both eat a lot. They're both a bit aloof, and ... " A knowing smile, being a country mouse. Coming from meadows and pastures and fields. "And they're VERY nosy."
"Really?"
"Mm-hmm. Cows? SO nosy ... put their noses in everything. They got really wide eyes, too. They're great."
"Docile."
"Mm?" went the vole.
"Elephants and cows are both docile. They have that in common, as well," she said.
A nod. "True."
"I cannot think of any other similarities."
"Well, you don't need to ... I started it," he said. "I was just saying ... mm ... ooh," he went, pulling out his camera. Seeing a good shot.
And they looked at penguins. Saw so many things.
Such life. Such teeming, beautiful ...
... life. Love.
Two letters removed from being the same word. They MUST be related.
For, back in the present, on the couch ... breeding as they were ... life and love, they blurred.
"Mm ... mm ... " The mew-sounds coming from her throat. Her eyes watered to a close. Her nose sniffing, resting on his shoulder. She would breathe of his scent. And it was such a sensation of ... rightness. If rightness was even a word. But it was.
He was, for her, rightness.
And she the same for him. It was a cliche that opposites attracted, and yes, on the outside, they were VERY opposite, but ... really, they had a lot more in common ... than either had first known. And thank goodness they'd been mutually persuaded to see this further. To take it deeper, and ...
... well, they were too entangled to now separate. Could any force cause them to come undone?
A kiss worked its way into the activity.
A sloppy, lip-loosening kiss. Once, twice ...
... his tongue on her lips. And her tongue, more versatile, more able, slid into his muzzle. And stayed there, licking at his cheeks, his teeth.
He was huffing hard, pulling back to breathe, and then going back forward. Muzzle-to-muzzle. Close, full-on kisses.
His slim, rodent body, muscles tensing ... as he moved forward. The slightest, sweaty pause. And pulled back. Effeminate pleasure-squeaks, his sounds. So tender. As he always was. A tingling, rising rhythm ... of his body joined to hers.
Her paws clasped onto his sides, and then roved over his back. She, on her own back now, sprawled on (and sinking into) the cushions, with his warm, wriggling weight atop of her.
He was the submissive one, normally. In personality and physicality. No mistaking that (he was a species of mouse, after all ... and male mice were known for their wispiness). But their breeding wasn't so structured as to not allow for variety.
But details ...
... were not for now.
Shyness? It faded from him.
Guardedness? It loosened just enough (in her) to let him through, and keep him in.
Thinking?
Reason?
What were those?
Breed-breed-breed, their bodies screamed ... breed-breed ... but, more than merely animals, more than merely swallowed by blind instinct, they felt and found such MEANING in this ... more than basic need (and the supplemental want). But, in their Christian faith, and their devotion to one another, their passion, their artistry, and their ... purity ...
... in everything. Everything was shouting at them! Body mind and soul! All bombarding!
Breed-breed-breed ... love, love, love! Breed ... love ... life! Oh, life! Love! Art, is this! Breed-breed-breed ... pleasure, pleasure!
Pleasure!
Driven by pleasure, Ross pushed forward. Pause. Pull back. It was SO simple to do. So startlingly simple a motion ... just ... back and forth! That was it! Oh, wow ... oh, and SO incredible. Something so simple. Something SO sweet. His mind sparked. He huffed on her cheek, mouthing, wetting her fur, and ... and ... sloppy kissing resuming. Almost slobbering on her chin as his lips found their way to hers again.
Succulent, searing kiss ... eyes closed, noses flaring. Every sense alive. Nothing missed.
Her white, fluffy bob-tail gave a twitch or two, comfortably trapped beneath her.
While his tail went about like a live-wire above his exposed, rutting rump. Mouse-hood, slick, stiff ... sensitively plowing her fertile vaginal canal, wet, slick, stimulating him on all sides, and ... and ... and ...
" ... R-oss ... w-w ... ater ... "
He, huffing, mind fuzzy, heard her. Ears swiveling, and ... he, panting hard, pulled out of her. Mouse-hood flopping out. His chest heaving, he reached to the table. Grabbed the water bottle, and ...
... she clutched it weakly, and downed the whole thing. How many cups of water were in there, he didn't know, but she drank it all. And sighed heavily. "Oh ... oh ... " The water had dribbled down her chin and neck. Her white fur damp, moist with sweat. His fur matted, too, though not so wetly ...
"I, uh ... huh," the vole huffed. "Uh ... huh ... w-we should change positions," he managed, mouse-hood erect. Glistening with femme juice in the dim light. Beading drops of pre from the swollen, pure-pink head.
"You," she said, "were doing ... fine ... " The water was cooling her. She felt her energy return. She was good to go to the end this time.
"You can't, uh ... your, uh ... clitoris," he whispered, too bashful to say the word any louder (though his tongue had been all over it earlier) ... his shyness was so interesting to her. The layers of it, and how ... he could be bold and shy about the same things! It was just so fascinating ... but, anyway, him continuing, " ... I ... it's better for you if you're on top. I ... it'll feel good for me, either way," he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Come on," he urged, whispering. "I finished on top," he said, "yesterday."
"You sure ... ?"
"Yes ... yes ... mm ... "
"Huh ... " A huff from her. As their bodies, still pressed together (even while moving), wriggled and turned, shifting, and ...
... he was beneath her, now. On his back. Looking up, huffing.
And she, squatting, her foot-paws sinking into the cushions ... she went to her shins and knees. More stable than squatting, and slowly sank down. She wasn't about to waste any time. And he wasn't about to ask her to. By this point, the frenzy flickering through their veins, and they needed ... release ... needed release ...
His paw was there to guide his mouse-hood between her fleshy, loosened folds. Toward her vagina, and then slip-sliding in. An inch, two, three ... down. She sank down, and sighed, leaning her head back, and reaching a paw down, she immediately rubbed at her clitoris. Nodding lightly at the pleasantness of it.
Ross flushed. Seeing the look on her muzzle, with her eyes closed, as she rose up. Paused. And fell. As she rose up, and fell ... riding, riding, and sinking. And pausing. Her free paw on his chest, thumbing one of his nipples beneath his muddy-brown fur. No, they couldn't kiss from this position, and ... they didn't have the full weight of their bodies nestled into each other, but ... variety was the spice of life! (Or something like that.) And, from this position, he could play with her more, stimulate her more ... and ...
"Huh, uh ... "
"Mm ... hmm ... "
The snow rabbit, beautiful, poised, damp with sweat, kept herself fully-lowered. And gyrated her hips. Slowly, in a clockwise motion, steering him ... and tapping, rubbing at her erect nub ...
... while he whimpered and pawed at her breasts. A squeeze or two. Finger-swipes of the hard nipples. He softly squished and fondled her breasts ...
... as she gyrated in the opposite direction, and then, unable to go with the slow-burn pleasure, began to bounce. Rise, plop, rise, plop ... fast, and growling from the throat. A rabbit growl ... of feminine pleasure, and ...
... him squeaking, balls swollen and sac tight, and so close to the edge of it all. He couldn't ... he ... " ... uhhn. Nn! Huh!" he panted, shivering, eyes shut, and sowing the one he loved. (Though she wasn't in heat, so the seeds wouldn't grow. Which was just as good, cause they were in no condition to be parents.) Life-giving seed, though, spurting at her life-giving womb. Each ejaculation a JOLT of animal pleasure that floored him, and made him squeak out as ...
... she, as his was winding down, came upon her own orgasm. "Huh! Ah ... " Little mews to accompany his squeaks, as fluid dripped from her vagina. As her cervix dipped into the pool of semen her mate had just left ... as her walls milked him for every last drop of male's milk ...
... as the vole chittered helplessly.
Tremors, spasms wracking her ...
... lingering jerks of his penis.
Until both of them were ...
(biologically, emotionally, mentally, physically, artistically)
... spent.
Huffs from her.
Little gasps from him.
Having gotten through it. Through this force of nature. Having plunged into it, coming out ... as themselves. But knowing it would be back for them. And, to be honest, they didn't mind at all ... for what fur WOULD mind being a prisoner to such a cycle?
Aria swallowed hard, and ... lifted up, weakly, and ... sank back down, their union broken, but the effects of it lingering still. And she laid atop of him, sighing heavily. It was time for the cuddling, the nuzzling. The soft, soft nosing.
His arms, from beneath, going up and around her back. Pulling her down. Hugging her so dearly.
She nestled into him, nose in his neck. Breathe. Breathe. Nose him.
Breathe. Nose her. Let your whiskers run through her fur.
"Thank you," she whispered, after a bit.
A shy flush. Such intimate quiet. "You're welcome," he whispered back. "But ... but you need to be thanked. It's ... takes two, and ... " He trailed. "I love you," was his next exhale. Silently, inside, thanking the Lord ... for this. For her. For having made it possible. For sustaining it. Oh, thank you ...
She breathed in through the nose. "I love you, too," she whispered back.
A moment's silence.
Afterglow. Their world, just then, blown away.
It would come back in a minute.
But, in the brief moments until it did, it was just them breathing, and their hearts returning to their normal beating.
"We have to shower. It's ... " The rabbit raised her head, looking at the clock on microwave. " ... 11:24," she sighed. "Mm." They both needed a good eight hours of sleep. Best be in bed by midnight. Shower, and snuggle their way to slumber. And, truthfully, they were both tired, so ...
Sleep. Sleep, young furs! Sleep, and dream of SUCH things.
"Mm," went Ross. And a quiet nod. "Alright," he went, and ... together, they slowly, lazily got off the couch and went to the shower. Leaving the modest skyline scene outside the window behind.
Going to the shower.
Awash in the scenery of each other. And if that wasn't love, then ...
... well, what was?