Derelict Snow Glade
In the middle of a snowstorm, a rabbit finds himself stopping at an abandoned cabin to rest.
This was done as part of a writing prompt for Writer's Crossing.
Posted using PostyBirb
Snow crunches underfoot for the white rabbit as he emerges from the trees of the expansive forest. Whiskers wiggle as the fluffy coat provides the otherwise lean explorer with enough warmth to get by. The leporine figure tiptoes through the snowy glade and towards the old shack, which holds the markings of neglect--old and warped wood, broken windows, and the lack of any light.
This is just the kind of place for someone like the traveler--well worn and forgotten as each other.
The door creaks open without an issue, and the vagabond steps inside. A firestarter kit is enough that the bunny needs to breathe life into the old fireplace and provide shelter from the worsening storm.
All-in-all, things are cozy.
The rabbit slumps back in the old dusty chair by the fireplace and pulls out the dried biscuits to nourish for the long journey. The chill from the outside blows in, but the coat's warmth keeps the lone visitor from listening to a growling stomach.
The place is much more inviting than anywhere out in society, where the rabbit is no longer welcome. The figure curls up and snuggles into the old rickety seat, where the soft, comforting scent of one who had been here before lingers for a time.
What sort of person called this old place home? Were they as derelict as the rabbit, forced to live out here in nowhere? Or were they someone who enjoyed their privacy, living out here all alone and not expecting any guests to come stomping their cold, wet feet through the snow-drenched glade?
The wind howls through the broken windows, bringing swirling vestiges of a storm into the house. The traveler shudders when the cold fingers of winter brush against his face. His eyes flutter open, and he blinks once before opening them wide.
He clings to the old chair and stares up at the tall, broad-shouldered figure, white as the snowstorm around him and looking with a curious gaze down at him.
Such a bear.
And the scent.
The bear reaches forward, caressing the rabbit's cheek, a warm smile upon the cold face.
The rabbit freezes.
The bear leans further forward, wrapping another arm around the rabbit's warm coat, pulling him in.
The rabbit melts.
The homeowner licks upon the traveler's neck, carrying him off and away from the old fireplace.
They travel to a bedroom, more well-kept than the rest of the house, with sheets and covers that the homeowner tucks the rabbit under. The bear joins him under the sheets, laying atop of him, his massive form around the more diminutive form.
The rabbit's breath is ragged as he feels the arousal of his host, just as sure as the host feels his.
The tongue licks over his mouth, and he allows him entrance, soon filling him with muscle as the bear tastes every corner inside of him.
The rabbit wraps his arms around the old bear, gripping tightly to him with hands and knees.
Cock rubs against cock, stiffness stimulating stiffness, but all the while, the rabbit only cares about one thing--how warm he is.
The bear pulls his mouth free, licking at his snout, chuckling, stroking the rabbit's head.
The rabbit whimpers and rubs against the bear.
The bear holds him tight, pulling back, drawing along the cock, the balls, and finally, pressing up into him.
The rabbit lets out the first loud sound in forever, a word that he hadn't uttered in a while. "Yes... yes!"
He repeats this word repeatedly as he is filled. His eyes roll back, looking to the window outside, where the snow continues to fall, where it piles around the room, obscuring the forest and the glade.
All that exists here is him and his love for the day, and that's all he needs.
The bear is strong and deep, but he is tender, hitting him in the most sensitive spots with his giant tool.
The rabbit arches his back, his delight knowing no bounds.
He lets out a weak and whiny cry as he reaches the end of his rope, shooting out onto the bear and staining the white fur a slightly off-white.
The rabbit's eyes shoot open, and he groans, rubbing his eyes and laying back on the chair. The fire still burns in the fireplace. The touch of the cold winter still blows against his fur, but he finds himself now sitting alone in the old shack, drenched with the daydreaming orgasm.
He shuffles for an extra pair of undergarments and slips into them, grumbling as he does. Such a tranquil time in the shack has been ruined, yet again, by his pathetic nature. His libido is more like the fire inside this old house than the cold wind that blows outside. He stands there, half-dressed, hands upon the windowsill, letting the cold air blast his white fur.
Why can't he be like an average person among the others in the world beyond? Why must he constantly find the need to get off? Why must he go after the types that are unavailable to him?
His ear twitches and swivels, and he immediately turns around, hands against the wall, eyes wide, staring at the door.
The old warped wood creaks open, and a figure lumbers into the doorway. Dressed in the ranger's uniform, the towering bear looks at the small and frightened rabbit before him. He gives the rabbit a warm smile and holds out a hand.
"Hey there, fella," he says, "It's dangerous alone out in a blizzard."
The rabbit steps away from the window, taking the offered hand.
The bear wraps a tight warm blanket around his body. So cold, he never knew how chilly it was.
Perhaps, he was ready to invite the cold forever in that old shack, but now, he is happy just being warm...