Pure-Bred
A shiver went up his spine, from his tail-tip to his twitching, sniffing nose ... making his whiskers, even, to tingle. He leaned his head back (just a bit) and exhaled, and inhaled, and ... back-and-forth, with quickening speed, did he breathe.
He was on his knees on the floor.
She was sitting on the edge of the couch-cushions.
Her soft, silky-white paws traced over his ear-edges. The thin, pink perimeters of his dishy lobes. Softly, they traced, with fingers occasionally straying ... to the lobes themselves. Running little circles, little patterns ... on the over-sensitized, blood-gorged flesh.
Ross's eyes were hooded. The meadow mouse in a bit of a daze. Whiskers twitching, and nose sniffing, and his long, pink tail snaking with utmost silence.
She, watching him with gentility, with care, continued ... thumbs on the insides of his lobes, and fingers on the outsides, thumb and forefinger pressing on the same spot of his ears ... from both sides. And, together, sliding simultaneously. From the center to the edge. And then letting go. Getting another grip. Sliding from the center to the edge (again).
The vole was huffing now ... and giving off such heat. Oh, to touch his ears was to touch such warmth. Almost sizzling. And to hear his heart patter-pattering in his chest. Her own ears not as big, size-wise (but, rather, thinner, taller) ... could hear as much.
They were in their quarters. It was morning.
The lights were more dim than not.
Aria's fingers switched positions a bit, her paws completely going to the inside of his ears, and ...
" ... A-aria," he breathed, tensing as she ...
... drifted her soft, white fingers, with the blunted claws, inward in his ear, closing in on the canal. The tiny, invisible strands of fur that surrounded that open ear-hole. With her finger-tips, she massaged his inner ear-hairs.
"Ah!" He arched. "Ah ... hah ... " His breaths came out in puffs.
Ear-sex was an art. Only certain species had the ears, first of all, to do it ... mice and rabbits the most prevalent ... but it took patience. The ears, for these species, were sensitive things. Very delicate. You worked them too hard ... the pleasure would become pain. You worked them too soft, and you'd never get there.
She was about to slowly press her fingers to his ear-canals ... but noticed him lip-licking. As if, maybe, his lips were dry. His tongue peeking out of his muzzle, licking his lower lip, retreating ... licking his upper lip. His nose flaring, whiskers wildly twitching ... sniff-sniff! Sniff!
The heat and sensation from his ears was hampering his ability to articulate his thoughts ...
... but she understood. He wanted to give something back to her.
And, huffing herself, now, in anticipation, and her heart quickening, she spread her legs ... and he immediately, with an instinctive, signaling squeak, went for the opening ...
... which Alabaster slid into. Sighing heavily. "Ah ... ah," he went, slumping over Olivia's back. Olivia was a femme snow rabbit. From Alabaster's engineering staff. He'd wanted, truth be told, to breed with Arianna ... who was currently without a mating party. He'd sent invitation for her to join, but ... she'd been non-committal. No doubt because of that snow-mouse. She was always finding excuses to chat with him.
Regardless, Olivia had agreed to join Alabaster's breeding party (which consisted of five of the other snow rabbits on the ship, excluding him). So, now, there were seven in his group. All, upon entry, taking a verbal oath to stay within the group. You could breed casually with any group member, at any time ... most snow rabbits liked to choose a different group member every day. The ones who didn't, the ones who veered toward 'coupling' ... were evicted from the group. To outsiders, it may have seemed callous, but ...
... it was how snow rabbits had operated for centuries. Now instinct. Their emotions, for their own protection, had been frozen ... to FEEL honest love, a snow rabbit could DO, but to express it? Most snow rabbits feared such fierce emotion. Feared that, if they went in that direction, it would loosen their mental control, and ... lead to self-destruction.
And there was the singular fact of a rabbit's yiff-drive.
Whereas, other furs needed to breed twice a day ...
... rabbits needed more. Three or four, depending.
Alabaster, catching his breath, pulled his hips back, sliding a bit out of her ... exposing his now-glistening member to the air of engineering. He gave a rabbit-purr, and slowly slid back in, his penis disappearing through the white tufts of fur ... and the pink lips of flesh. Burying deep into her wet vagina. And parking there.
Neither of them was fully naked. Just half-bare ... pants and underwear around their ankles. Snowy, tail-flicking rumps exposed. She was leaning, paws and arms extended, against a bulkhead, and he was standing right up behind her, in a close, grinding doggy-style.
There were three other furs in engineering, currently, but they were all snow rabbits, too. And all happened to be a part of the same breeding party, so ... two were humping on the floor behind the warp core. Another was sitting on the second-floor catwalk, masturbating.
Alabaster had sealed the doors, though, in case any of the 'warm-bloods' showed up for their shifts early. They wouldn't understand ...
He, with his muzzle in the back of Olivia's neck, panted out. Hot, baited breaths ... taking them in. Releasing them. Her neck-fur soft and filled with the scent of her. He ran his nose all over her nape, his whiskers twitching to the motion. While he happily bucked forward ... buck ... buck ...
... slight moans coming from her as her elbows bent with each motion. As she was rocked forward a bit, and then leaned back. Her bobtail held high, and somehow having worked itself under his shirt, pressing against his belly. His own bobtail to the open air, flicker-flicking like a tundra flame.
She huffed with satisfaction ... huff, huff ... uh ... huff ...
... and he wrapped both arms and paws all the way around her, hugging his chest to her back, and working one paw free ... to flick at her swollen clitoris ...
... mew! Mew! Her tail flickering against his warm belly.
His blood pumped. His ears, tall, thin, standing at full, aroused attention. Pull back, listen to that soft, fleshy sound ... that wet squish. Hold it, and slide yourself back in, through that heated, perfect muscle. Male and female essence, intermingling, to breed with full abandon. No emotional strings. No responsibilities.
No hooks.
Just breeding. Like pure-blood rabbits. Snow rabbit and snow rabbit melting together, like grinding glaciers ... to evaporate upon finish, and to snow down upon someone else.
Freedom of not being trapped. But to taste of such sweet, sensual things, all the same, and ...
This was ... oh ... was what, mm, it was supposed to ... mm ... mm ...
... the clitoral and vaginal stimulation, and the wild, panting breath of Alabaster in her ears, threw the femme to the edge, and her vocal mews, almost like squeals, rung out. Vagina rippling, femme-parts trembling with fluttering muscle-spasms, flinging physical pleasure to her extremities ... oh ... huff! Huh! Huh ... her eyes closed, and she sucked air through her gritted teeth, enduring the release ...
... while the squeezing, the rippling, the milking-motion of her muscles, and his own ramped-up, desperate need for climax ... everything built to him slowing to a sloppy hilt (why a male, so powerful and poetic during yiff, with strong, steady strides of his narrow hips, had to be reduced to clumsy, stumbling thrusting ... a total loss of control during ejaculation ) ... and the subsequent spurts, jerking, writhing him into rabbit-barks. Raising his muzzle. Giving a rabbit-bark to the air. Oh, the force of it! Oh, the bliss ... the bliss of it!
After a few seconds, half a minute, maybe, as they were both free of release, Alabaster huffed a bit. Swallowed. And shuffled back a step or two, his wet, still-stiff penis flopping out of her, bobbing in front of his body. Leaving her to drip semen ... which strung from her opening, running down her sweaty, matted thighs.
He watched her backside, and her tail, and ... as she pulled her underwear back on. And her pants. He, taking a deep breath, did the same. Both of them smelling of yiff, no doubt. They'd have to take a shower. But they would do that separately. To shower together would only encourage 'attachment' ... but, fully dressed, they met each other's eyes, and he stepped forward a bit, and put his nose to hers. And let his whiskers twitch. A motion of gratitude.
"You are welcome," was Olivia's whisper. And she nodded to him, politely.
"You may shower first," he said, indicating his head toward the bathroom. All bathrooms on furry ships had showers in them (for this precise purpose).
"Thank you," she said. "And I am glad to be in a breeding party once more. You are most kind to include me."
"You are a good inclusion," he said, nodding to her. "I will recommend you to the other males."
An appreciative eye-smile from her. "I would recommend you to the femmes, but ... you need no recommendation." A continued eye-smile, and off she went.
Leaving Alabaster to sigh and sniff the air, feeling quite good. Mm ...
"Uh ... uh," Aria softly went. A sound that seemed to please the stars outside the window, making them stream by faster. Or at least it seemed that way. She sat up a bit, and ... slouched back down. A tiny bit of squirming on her part. Her paws on her mate's shoulders, holding on to him. Gripping him, and clutching at his fur.
Ross, eyes closed, tongue out of muzzle, took a lick here. And a lap there. Running the tip of his tongue up and down. And lips doing a bit of kissing, a bit of nibbling ...
"Mm ... "
... lick-lick-lap. Stop ... breathe. Sigh! Oh ... lick-lick ... he didn't have the most maneuverable tongue, but it worked, all the same. He was a mouse.
The snow rabbit lifted her foot-paws up, legs raising a bit more, spreading ... a bit more. Sinking back into the cushions of the couch. Thinking, somewhat wryly, that right now, she didn't look very Captain-like. But being the Captain didn't make her an ancient, classical statue, did it? She was still fur and blood ... just like the rest of them. Only, she couldn't afford to fully show that.
Not in front of the rest of the crew.
In front of him, though? Her mate? The guard let down ... and she was so grateful for his presence.
Aria had been in breeding parties before. She'd found them ... spiritually un-fulfilling. As much as snow rabbits claimed otherwise, they needed love just as badly as anyone else. They were just afraid of it. She understood why. Her species NEEDED its emotional freeze. If it thawed, they'd become violent, primal ... uncontrollable. She understood the need for detachment, but ...
... surely, there was a middle ground?
She'd found it. Had gone out on a limb, and had wanted ... something more. Something.
No empty thoughts, no paranoia, no mistrust ... no feeling like just a piece of tail. No lapses of confidence ...
... used to, she would love without love. But, looking back, how could one do it? Her compatriots, how could they still do it? Did they just not know any better? Did they not know what poetry was? Did they not believe they had a soul? For them to put their mortal brands on each other, their intimate imprints ... without thought or reason, but just blind grabbing? Giving away pieces of their whole, and cheapening what was meant to be a strong, unified beauty of fiery spirit and form?
One plus one ... making two. Two halves. THAT was a foundation.
One plus one plus one plus ... one or two more? Hopping from here to there, un-committal. Over time, the dilution that occurred ... left one with a blind sort of blandness.
But, then, any type of yearning could be justified (even if by lies).
And to think ... that some furs actually thought this whole intricate design of tangled created itself. But ...
... no time for logic. Even if it's in your nature. Don't think. Don't be proper and civil, Aria. Now is not the time. Loosen up, and let go ... flow with it ...
"Mm ... mm ... "
Aria returned her paws to their earlier spot: Ross's dishy, blood-gorged ears. Her own ears tall, slender, antennae-like, and rigid with blood, themselves, and listening ... to her mate's little, soft sounds. Knowing they meant something. Pleasure. But a purposeful one. And not just doing it for himself ... though, to put it crudely, the vole loved to eat pussy. More than any-fur she'd known. But, then, all male mice (of all sub-species) were universally known for that penchant (and supreme skill for doing it).
"Uh ... " She let out a welcome grunt as the meadow mouse slipped two fingers into her vagina. All the way, worming them a bit, and then pulling them back. Pushing them in. To the knuckles this time, and curling the fingers up ... in a little gesture. So that the finger-tips were on the upper wall of her pink, searing, muscular canal. A gateway to life and pleasure. And it was between his mate's legs! What luck!
His tongue lashed out at her upper lips, and them his muzzle veered a bit. To run his lips through the fuzzy, snowy fur ... the thin line of fur that was between the thicker, tufted fur that covered the rest of her groin, and the naked, fleshy lips of her vulva, which pouted at him. And he returned to licking them lusciously ... before zoning in on her little, erect nub.
She tensed. Knowing what he was going for ...
... and his lips softly settled over her clitoris. Softly stayed there. And softly sucked, tongue in direct contact. "Mm ... mm ... " While his fingers pumped, filling her, hitting that 'sweet spot' inside, and the combination of everything, before long, was too much ...
Her head thrown back, breasts (hanging loose, like snowy mounds, with her nipples erect) ... breasts heaving, she quivered, sucking in air. "Uh! Huh ... uhnn ... " And a trickle of fluid, and a tremor inside her. Like an earthquake keeping her in place.
Her climax only intensified the mouse's oral ventures. Which ended with some gentle, slowing muzzle-humps, until he sank back on his knees and shins, huffing with her ... needfully erect, but more concerned with her satisfaction.
Her eyes, half-open, met his, and ... she nodded her gratitude.
"Water?" he whispered.
Another nod. Equally soft.
"And ... for you, too," she managed.
He paused, unscrewing the lid to the water bottle (filled with ice water). "Mm?"
"You should drink some, too," she said, taking the bottle from him. Downing a gulp, and then two ... snow rabbits dehydrated faster than 'warm-blood' furs. "You are going to need it," she promised, her ice-blue eyes sparkling. Doing that eye-smile thing.
And Ross flushed, giggle-squeaking ... and taking a swig of water. No need to argue this ...
"Oh ... oh ... " Wilco finally rolled off of her, onto his back, huffing out hard. "Oh," he went again, swallowing, nose flaring (and whiskers twitching).
A paw slid slowly onto his belly. Arabella was still on her back, and now beside him (instead of under him).
They were quiet for a moment. As they recovered from their love-making. The flying squirrel's tail trapped underneath his back. And her tail, with the tuft on the end, trailing over the edge of the bed (and to the floor).
Little breaths.
Little rustles.
Little touches of affection.
Until she said, "You have to get going soon ... "
A little nod. Rustling the pillow-cases. Still in a daze, the flying squirrel was.
"You know, we can ask the Captain to put us on the same shift. That way our off-hours will be the same. Then we can actually SLEEP together," she said. "Instead of just getting an odd-hour at dawn and dusk." Oh, how dreamy would that be? Sleeping together? Waking up besides someone ... that was a thought to make one swoon, sure enough.
"Mm ... I go to pieces in front of the Captain," Wilco admitted. "She intimidates me." A pause. "They all do ... "
"The snow rabbits?" Her nose sniffed the air. Her whiskers twitched. And her ears, even while she was lying down, did a bit of the swivel-swivel.
"Mm-hmm." He nosed her, eyes closing (hers opening). To be young and newly-mated ... surely, this was some kind of rich. And he blinked, and she blinked. And they looked at each other from this close.
"Well, I'll ask her, then ... but Aria's different than the others. And none of 'em are that bad, to begin with."
"I don't wanna talk about snow rabbits ... " He really didn't. He felt like a little child around them. Like they were so much smarter. But, really, they were JUST as much ... furs ... as everyone else. They did the same things. Just ... in different ways.
"No?"
"No. I wanna talk about ... "
" ... having breakfast. You need some breakfast."
"Well, what about you?"
"I get to sleep all day."
"And work all night," he countered. "So, does that make my breakfast ... your supper?"
"Best not breach the issue. Too confusing." A smile. "Anyway, seriously, I'm gonna ask Aria to put us on the same shift."
"The DAY shift."
"Day shift," she assured. "But it's up to her. She might say no. I'm just a lieutenant."
"I'm just an ensign," he replied.
"Mm-hmm." The sound was soft in the bedroom air.
A giggle-squeak. "What does that mean?"
"What?"
"That 'mm-hmm' ... was that a threat, he asked, grinning, "or a promise?"
"Maybe both." She nestled up to him, paws roving some more. Soft, sensual touches, subtle strokes through the fur. Just to FEEL the presence of the one next to you. To breathe of that same rarified air. "You know, after yiff ... you're a lot more stable," she teased.
"Hey," he chided, though smiling.
"Seriously, before, you're bouncing off walls, all bumbling and hyper ... "
" ... and now?"
Nose on his chest, in the line of symmetry, in his fur. "You'd built up the need for one heck of a release ... now that you've had it, you got some sensibility in you."
"And you've got some ... "
"Stop it," she giggled.
" ... in you," he finished cheekily, his middle words obscured.
"And who's fault is that?"
"Mine." A beaming look.
"Mm." Nosing. "We gotta be careful, though ... when I come into heat. The offspring of a flying squirrel and a kangaroo rat?" A bit of a smile. "How many parts are included in that package? All our odds and ends ... "
"Well ... maybe we're too different to ... "
" ... we can." A pause. "We can, so ... "
A little nod.
"But, no need to worry, right ... we've only been mated a few days. Let's be dizzy for as long as we can stand it." A breath. "I shouldn't have brought it up ... "
"We can talk about it, if you want ... I ... do you wanna have a baby?"
She shirked a bit. "That's ... too loaded a question," she said, "for so early in the morning. Really, forget about it. We're still young."
"Mm ... okay," he said, and paused. Whiskers twitching. "I'm, uh, sorry I came off so strong. At first, you know."
"Well, believe it or not, sometimes a femme likes to be bowled over by a male ... cut through all the chasing. Less tiring that way."
"Well, it was more like ... I careened into you."
"Don't worry ... " She went quiet for a bit. "You gotta get out of bed," she reminded again. "Only an hour before your shift."
He flushed and nodded, and ... lingered. And then sat up. And shyly got dressed in front of her.
"What's that ... " Ollie sniffed.
"A lube. Don't worry, it's good ... it warms."
"Warms?" The mouse was in sickbay. He'd come to hanging out here, mostly, every day. To talk. To be an unofficial medical helper. And he and Barrow didn't have mates, so ... they'd taken to pawing together, as friends.
"Here," Barrow said. He squeezed some clear jelly out of a tube, onto his blue, furry fingers.
The white-furred mouse watched. Sitting, naked on the bat's desk, in his open-ended office ... while the periwinkle bat was in his swivel-chair. Their clothes were on the floor, in a lazy fashion.
"Here," Barrow said again, whispering gently. His fingers going to the mouse's sheath-less, pink cock. Buttering up the head and the underside with the jelly. Finger-tips moving it around a bit.
"Oh ... " The mouse quietly caught his breath. His penis ticking up with more blood.
"See?" the bat whispered.
A quiet nod.
"It gives off heat when in contact with skin." The bat squeezed more onto his fingers. This time, grasping the mouse's member ... slowly pumping.
Ollie deflated of air, licking his dry lips.
"Don't lean too far forward, now ... you'll fall off the edge of the desk ... "
The mouse nodded in understanding. The bat's paw gently stroking him, slightly up, slightly down. Squeeze. Slow ... soft. And suddenly fast, and then ... slow ...
A squeak of pleasure filtered out of the rodent's muzzle, and he ... weakly, he patted his paw on the desk-top.
The bat grinned, chuckling a bit, and left his chair. And joined him. Neither of them ... could reach the floor with their foot-paws. So, they both quietly, weakly swung their legs a bit. Barrow's thumb wagging over the back of the mouse's cock-head ...
"Oh ... oh," were the resulting whimper-moans. This felt ... so ... good. The mouse's head leaning, now, on the bat's shoulder. He huffed out hard, shaking his head a tiny bit. "I don't ... I don't understand ... "
"Mm?" Barrow went, eyes closed, still playing with his friend's mouse-hood.
"I ... I ... I've pawed," he whispered, sucking in air, "with friends ... before, but ... uh ... uh!" Ollie arched, giving a throaty squeak. He held his breath (afraid he was gonna lose it right then and there ... but he didn't). A few seconds. And continuing, " ... but ... it never felt like this. Huh ... " His penis was slick and rigid, at its full five inches ... and ... and ... " ... you're ... it's like you know how to touch me."
A flush. "Well ... "
A pause. A huff. "You're ... you went into my head, didn't you? You know the perfect ways to ... to paw me ... cause you got them from my head." A hint of anxiety in his tone.
A quiet nod. "Yes ... " A slight, slight squeeze.
The mouse caught his breath again, so close ... to the edge.
"I just thought it would ... you'd like it ... I'm sorry if ... "
"No ... no," the mouse whispered weakly, eyes hooded. "No, it's ... it's just," he panted, "odd. I ... you're playing me like an instrument. You know all the notes ... "
"I'm not gonna abuse ... anything. I'm not gonna violate anything," the bat promised (though he realized, now, after recent events, that lines were easier to cross than one liked to claim). "I don't always use my telepathy every time I paw with friends. Some of them are a little stand-offish about it. But ... "
"K-keep ... g-going," the mouse stuttered, pleading with his effeminate voice.
"Alright," the bat soothed, and his pawing resumed ...
"Oh," the mouse sighed, starting to suck on the bat's neck, mouthing, wetting his fur.
A sky-blue, winged arm ... went around the mouse, causing Ollie to lean even more on the bat, both of them still sitting on the desk, foot-paws poised above the floor.
"Huh ... uh ... " The mouse, in a pleasured, eyes-closed haze, was now sucking on the bat's cheek ... holding on to him. When he felt an uncontrollable urge to grab out and ... " ... I ... I gotta paw your ... "
"Go on ... "
The mouse obeyed the telepathic bidding, and he desperately grabbed at his friend's stiffness. Not caring that the bat was messing with his head ... or heads, more like.
"Now," Barrow whispered, "I'm gonna put in your mind ... how to touch me. Okay?"
"Mm ... mm ... " The mouse, panting, receiving the mental flashes, the images, the knowing. And ... soon, he was stroking the bat as if by the bat's own paw. Knowing the pacing, the firmness, the motion of his paw ...
" ... oh. Oh. Ah ... "
The mouse's nose was nearing the bat's lips.
Barrow took the first lick.
And the mouse returned it ... soon, a kiss, and lips breaking, the mouse panting hard, forehead falling to the bat's shoulders. Mm ... mm ... whimper-squeaks. Shudders. Building, building ... " ... uh, huh ... huh! Uh! Ahhhh ... " Deep sighs and squeaky, airy moans, as semen spurted in hot, white jets from the mouse, jerking between the bat's fingers, up to his own fur, and ... clinging ... and ... " ... oh ... oh," he panted, in a daze. "Gosh," he managed, giving the bat's cock a hard squeeze ... " ... gosh ... " Squeeze. Milk, milk ...
" ... ah, ahh ... ohnnn ... ohn, nnn ... " Barrow broke down, finally, as well, seed shooting up, falling to his fur, the floor, and the mouse's arm. He let out an echo-burst at the orgasm.
Ollie, a bit wilted, a bit hazy, whispered, "That was ... " He had to stop to catch his breath. "That was a good paw," he finally went.
Barrow nodded, with a weary grin on his muzzle, fangs showing. "Mm-hmm," he reciprocated. Chittering as the mouse suddenly hugged him. "Heh ... you're welcome," he said softly.
The mouse kept hugging, and let out a breath, and then let go, and then turned around, and ... surveyed the office. "We left a bit of a ... scent," the mouse managed, "in the air."
"I'll say ... " A deep sniff.
The mouse closed his eyes, breathing in ... of the scent of fur, sweat, seed. Release. "Mm ... I love that smell," he whispered.
"What fur doesn't?" the bat lazily asked, slouching a bit (for having spent most of his energy).
"One thing that would make it better ... "
"Mm?" The bat looked to him.
"A femme. A femme smell," he said.
A smile. "I know what you mean." A sigh. "Been a while since I had a mate, though. I guess that's why I'm on this ship. I was free. Nothing holding me back, so ... all that." A little motion. "Mm ... " He took a breath and slipped off the side of the desk, testing out his foot-paws on the floor. He wobbled for a bit, spreading his winged arms to balance himself. And then he padded forward. Getting some towels and cleaner. "Good thing all the carpets on this ship are stain-proof."
"This is probably why," Ollie remarked, still sitting.
"Heh ... "
"No, but ... well, can I tell you something?"
"Sure. Anything." The bat got to his knees, spraying the floor with a spray (that removed the scent and drew anything spilled ... to the surface).
"I'm attracted to Arianna ... "
"She's the Ops officer, right? Part of the bridge staff?"
"Yeah." A nod. "A snow rabbit." Another nod.
"Ah ... snow rabbit."
"Yeah. I ... I mean, I know Ross is mated to one, but his mate's different."
"Aria is a bit different. Especially for a Captain." A pause. "You think Arianna might be different, too?"
"I have a hunch," the mouse said quietly, trailing. And he nodded. "I don't think she's a part of any of the ship's breeding parties."
"It's difficult for any snow rabbit to shun the breeding parties ... as much as I disapprove of the practice," the bat said, "it does seem to suit their nature."
"Only because they think it has to. Love is an emotion. They can't feel that ... I mean, not in the way WE can, and ... it's a strong thing, love. They're afraid of it. Afraid it might cause them to melt, and then their baser instincts will come out with it, and ... more than anything, I think, afraid of getting hurt. They don't know how to deal with emotional pain, because they can't EXPRESS it ... it's ... I don't understand them," the mouse said, frowning with frustration. "I don't get them, but ... I'm drawn to them, you know? They're so fascinating. I mean, I'M from an ice-world, so I feel like I can sort of relate, in a way. And to Arianna, especially ... I felt, with her, I could talk about things. And I felt she understood ... but ... "
"As I said. Casual, group breeding suits their nature. Rabbits have doubled yiff drives, and snow rabbits can't express emotion ... so, love becomes a problem for them. It's a great way of release. Cause they don't get hurt like we do."
"I just can't believe that doesn't ... lessen their souls. Or something." A pause. "How does Aria love, then? How does she love Ross?"
Barrow, now, returned to his chair, and flopped in it. The smell in the air having been returned to neutral. And the floor cleaned up. He considered. "Aria's different."
"We established that."
"She was personally interrogated by the Arctic foxes during the war. I happen to think ... that they broke her 'freeze' ... or, didn't break it, but put a few cracks in it. From what I know of her service record, she didn't join Solstice until after all those 'incidents'."
"So, she only loves because ... she's messed up? I don't much like that explanation." A frown.
"That's not what I'm saying ... I'm just saying she has a very layered history. Most of these other snow rabbits, they've very old-line. Aria interacted with outsiders. Met Ross. All these other snow rabbits, for some of them, this is the first time they've even MET 'warm-bloods' ... "
"Didn't know that," Ollie said quietly.
"They're a very isolationist society. Or they were. What with their war with the foxes, and ... new threats from the humans and wasps, they've had no choice but to open up. Mingle with other species. Forge alliances. Hence the half-and-half crew on this ship," Barrow explained. "It's meant to draw us and them closer together. Build an understanding ... I don't know ... "
A quiet nod. "That makes sense ... mm ... so, you think I have a chance with her? She'd want a monogamous, spiritual relationship ... not just animal lust? I mean ... but honest, committed LOVE?"
"A lot of furs are scared of such depth," the bat remarked. "I don't why, but ... I doubt a snow rabbit would admit to being scared. There's only one way to find out."
"How's that?"
A toothy grin. "You ask her."
His ears flushed a rosy-pink. "Yeah ... mm ... " A breath. "Can I use the shower first?"
"If you want," the bat said. Gesturing with a paw. "Only, don't use all the shampoo."
"You can just replicate more," the mouse said.
"I brought my own from home. It's for colored fur," he said. "Like, non-white, non-brown fur ... gives a shine."
"Can I still use it?"
"You'll shine like a snow-drift."
"Heh ... mm ... alright. I'll try it."
"It has a floral scent. Very nice. Should suit you."
The mouse smiled, whiskers twitching, pink tail snaking behind him, wavering (as if following invisible air eddies). "I won't take long. I'm a five-minute shower kind of mouse, so ... "
"I doubt sickbay will get any visitors before we're both cleaned up. Anyway," the bat said, showing his fangs, eyes sparking, "we know every-fur on the ship's been doing the same thing."
A giggle-squeak, and the mouse nodded, disappearing into the bathroom. True enough.