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Emerson was up before his alarm.

When you were a farmer, you rose with the sun. Day after day, season after season. Call it instinct or muscle memory, but his body had developed a routine.

The golden-furred harvest mouse yawned, fighting some grogginess. But he was conscious, more or less.

Something tickled his whiskers.

Without thinking, he lightly brushed it away, opening his sky-blue eyes and squinting at the ceiling. Sunlight was coming in through the east-facing window, making the center of the room glow while simultaneously casting deep, bold shadows in the corners.

There was a lot to do today, wasn't there? Had to haul that straw he'd baled yesterday to the garden center. Plow the empty wheat field up. And that was just before noon!

Emerson yawned again.

The tickle came back.

He swatted a big, bushy tail away from his face.

Wait ...

Tail?!

Eyes going wide, he rolled onto his side and saw the nude, sleeping form of--

The fox squirrel's grey-and-brown tail flicked back across his face, swirling about, smothering him.

"Gah!" Squeaking, the naked mouse battled with her appendage, finally managing to hug it to his creamy-white chest.

Charlie.

Emerson blushed, everything coming back to him. All at once, in a heated, vivid rush.

The niece of his neighbors, Charlie, short for Charlene (don't call her that!), was from Canada. She was in America to help her aunt and uncle run their farm. They were getting older and needed younger paws, and she had grown up on a farm her parents had been forced to sell. So, she was familiar with the ins and outs.

She and Emerson met at a cookout and kept bumping into each other. Day after day, week after week. In the fields, in town. Both achingly lonely, they'd finally lost control of themselves yesterday, and he'd ... well. Humped her against the side of his barn. In broad daylight.

I can't believe I did that!

But he had.

Because he loved her.

Right?

His ears got hot.

They hadn't officially exchanged 'I love you's' after they'd done it. Or after they'd come back to his house and did it again. Or after they'd wound up in his bed last night ... _ _

But as Emerson looked at the new girlfriend's (squirrel friend's?) sleeping face, he felt it. Attraction, affection. Love.

A tomboy, Charlie wasn't 'glamorous.' But she was distinctly cute. Bright in spirit, grounded, relatable. The actual squirrel next door.

It had been years since the mouse been in this situation. Intimate and vulnerable with another? There was happiness, a sense of relief. He'd emotionally bottled himself up for so, so long, and she was helping him release that pressure.

But there were still remnants of ... anxiety, self-consciousness? Was that normal? Or was he just uniquely awkward?

BUZZ!

The mouse twitched and blinked.

Impulsively, he turned to reach for his phone on the bedside stand. But the screen was dark.

BUZZ!

It was Charlie's phone. Someone was calling her. Sitting up and peering past the squirrel's prone figure, he could read the words 'Call from: Auntie.' Her aunt and uncle. Oh, heck! Charlie probably hadn't told them where she'd be ...

Emerson's pulse quickened.

What would they think when they found out?

Would they be upset?

Would they hate him?

It's not like he could get new neighbors!

Would they send Charlie back to Canada? They couldn't do that, right? She was a grown adult!

Calm down. You're overreacting.

Maybe they'd approve of all this, invite him over for dinner every night, and adopt him as an honorary squirrel?

Hmm.

Could he pull off acting like a squirrel?

Eh, iffy.

BUZZ!

"Charlie ... "

No response.

"Wake up."

The mouse poked at her. Poke, poke ... rub? Rubbing got a response. But it was more 'keep going' than 'I am now active and alert.'

"Do I need to get an ice cube and put it on your neck?"

Charlie grunted, rolling from her back to her belly (and taking the sheets with her), leaving Emerson completely exposed and her bushy-tailed rump facing the ceiling.

Her back and limbs were silvery with an undercurrent of earthy, sandy brown that became predominant on her neck, breasts, and belly. She was also a few inches taller and several pounds heavier than the slender, gold-and-cream harvest mouse. So, it was going to be hard to get her to budge.

"Are you ... can you hear me? At all?" he asked uncertainly, his prehensile tail prodding at her.

He knew that squirrels, in the distant past, had undertaken spells of hibernation. It would make sense that they were still deep sleepers. But this was the first time he'd spent the night with one. How did you wake one up? He had no clue!

Whiskers twitched.

He carefully took hold of her, wondering if he was strong enough to roll her onto her back?

Worth a try.

Instead, the squirrel suddenly reached out and clutched at him.

"Eek!"

Blindly, Charlie wrestled him onto his back. Raising up, she swung a leg over so that she was straddling him, and then ... a wobble? A tilt! This way, that way, before she fell over in slow-motion. Her body eventually blanketed the mouse's. A singular snore emanated from her maw, and she hugged him possessively.

"Oh, my gosh," Emerson went.

Was she a sleepwalker?

He looked left. Then right. Then at her face. He blew on her whiskers. Blow, blow, blow. Nothing! She was out like a light.

Hmm.

She'd responded to rubbing earlier ...

He tried rubbing her back.

The squirrel chittered unintelligibly.

"You gotta get up," Emerson said gently. "We both have work to do, and you didn't tell your family you'd be out all night. They're probably worried ab ... abah, h-hey! What ... "

The squirrel was grinding her hips against his!

The mouse huffed. Was he allowed to feel good? Cause he was starting to. But she was asleep! But she was also the one doing it?

She didn't let up.

Emerson, meanwhile, found himself growing more and more erect.

"C-charlie, I don't know what you're dreaming about, but ... "

The squirrel rose up again.

"Oh, hey, you're awake?" the mouse asked hopefully.

Nope.

Her eyes were still closed.

The mouse gave up and impulsively reached for her jiggling breasts, grabbing and groping, getting a feel. What? He couldn't help it. They were there! And, well, maybe she was actually dreaming about all this? And her body was acting it out? He certainly didn't want to ruin a perfectly good dream ...

Charlie chittered, eyes darting beneath her lids. She planted her arms against his slender, lightly-toned chest, pushing off his body for leverage, raising her hips.

Emerson took the opening, reaching down to grab his thick cock and point it upward. When she lowered back down, he was there, guiding himself inside. Pulling his paw back, he watched as her sex swallowed him up. She sank all the way down to his large, fuzzy rodent balls.

"Hah," Emerson huffed. Boy! She was so wet, hot, smooth. So everything! He was already tingling, whiskers stiffening to their tips.

The squirrel rose up, then flopped back down.

Emerson squeaked!

Again, she rose and fell, rose and fell. Soon, she was vigorously bouncing on top of him, with enough force to make the bed creak and rattle.

The mouse, muzzle hanging open, panting for breath, knew this wasn't going to be a passionate, slow-burn session. This was of the 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am' variety. He was already close!

"C-cha ... Charlie! I'm ... you're g-gonna make me! Ah! AH!"

Emerson gasped, shuddering hotly as he came, seed shooting straight up into her body, no doubt flooding her womb. He vaguely wondered whether they should be more careful. Sure, the odds of mice and squirrels reproducing were, what, 1 in 20? But still a chance. She wasn't in heat, though. Wouldn't he have smelled it?

Those worries were very brief, as a shockwave of pleasure obliterated his active thoughts. He could feel her vagina clenching. She was cumming, too. Her barks indicated as much. Loud, squirrelly sounds that filled the room.

"Oh, oh, g-g ... oh, gosh!" Emerson cried.

And then, as they cleared their shared peak, the squirrel wavered again and fell back to his chest, resuming her strong, unbreakable hug of the male.

Emerson reeled beneath her.

What just happened?!

"Ahmm!" Charlie went, yawning widely.

"You're awake! Finally," the mouse said. "Aren't you?"

"Mmm. Yup. Heh ... hey, Emmy," Charlie murred into an ear. "I had the best dream! You were in it."

"I ... yeah, I know," Emerson emphasized bashfully, his sensitive cock giving residual twitches inside her sex.

Charlie looked down the length of their bodies and giggled. "Hah! No wonder it felt so real."

Hugging his lover, the mouse wondered, "So, uh ... does this happen a lot?"

"What? Doing stuff in my sleep? It might," she admitted coyly, clawed fingers drawing invisible patterns on his cheeks. "Guess I should've warned you, huh? I was afraid it would freak you out ... if you find food in bed when you wake up, I probably did a zombie raid of the kitchen in the middle of the night."

The mouse smiled, touching his sniffy nose to hers.

She looked into his eyes, a bit of insecurity seeping out. "You're not ... worried I'm going to mess up your routine? Be your dreaded snooze button?"

"How could I be?" he replied softly, his ropy tail threading through her abundant tail-fluff. "I just found out I'm literally the mouse of your dreams."

"Oh, you're a total dreamboat, Emmy," she confirmed, beaming happily and tilting in for an eager kiss.

His obliged, lips finding hers, suckling sweetly as their whiskers tangled.

Emerson momentarily forgot the schedule he had for today. He was supposed to do what? When? Huh? The bed was too comfortable, and Charlie too warm. Maybe she was his snooze button. Was that so bad?

He was in love.

The world could wait.