FSE

Furry search engine

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Looking around with bewilderment, the mouse stopped to rub at his cheeks. Melted snow had gathered on his clear, stiff whiskers, making them glisten with wintry wetness. Drying them off, he picked up his bags and approached the check-in counter. He hadn't been to an airport in decades. Nineteen years, in fact. He was understandably nervous. Felt out of place here. Somewhat provincial, like a country bumpkin.

Before he was allowed through to the boarding area, he was patted down by a toothy pit bull security guard with a broad, hanging tongue and a male-eating grin. Twice. Full body. The rodent's eyes boggled at some of the places those paws were feeling. And then, to top it off, he was 'wand scanned' between the legs. Presumably to see if he was hiding a bomb in his pants. Which he certainly wasn't. And even if he was, those canine paws surely would've felt it. Regardless, the mouse half-expected the wand to start beeping when it passed over the center of his groin. That's what happened in sitcoms, wasn't it? But it didn't, thankfully. And no studio audience laughed at him. He was relieved, cause he would've blushed something fierce. He blushed far too easily.

Next, waiting in line while his carry-on luggage passed through X-ray scanners, he kept glancing at the nearest 'arrivals/departures' monitor. All the text was posted in 'alarm clock' green. His flight hadn't been scheduled to depart for another two hours, but everything was already running late due to heavy snow. Big, bold declarations of 'DELAYED!' began to appear, covering half the readout. Two hours? Probably more like twelve. Maybe twenty-four. He began thinking the worst, shoulders gradually slumping. Great. That's just what I need. To be stuck in an airport all night. This place creeps me out ...

It was in his nature to be early, though. Which was why he was already here. He just hated being late for things. Tidy, fastidious, and organized. That was usually him to a tee. And with the local news stations already trumpeting their 'Winter Blast 2012, Snow Team - Ice Fortress' coverage, his natural, prey-like anxiety had begun to flare, and he'd begun pacing and worrying a full forty-eight hours ago. I'm going to miss my plane. I know it.

So, he left home, a small, run-down place in the countryside that he'd inherited, hours before originally planned. And he made it into the city just fine. Well, eventually. He took a few wrong turns. If you weren't familiar with the region, it was easy to get confused. He had no idea what any of the streets were actually called. He just used skyscrapers and monuments as landmarks. It didn't help that they'd recently moved the entire airport. It was now further away from the interstate. What had this one cost? A billion dollars? And the former one was just sitting in the same old spot, abandoned. Probably being used for drug deals. Anyway, what started as flurries was now outright snow. It had only recently begun to stick, so the buildup wasn't insurmountable yet. But visibility was steadily decreasing by the minute. He could attest to that. But he was here in one piece. That was the important thing.

He'd parked his side-dented navy-blue VW in the public garage for a ludicrous fee. Had no choice. He lived too far away to use public transport and no one had been available to ferry him. He was alone. Had been for a while, now. No one wanted a mouse of his comical stature ...

Finally finished with security, he grabbed his carry-on luggage (just one bag; the other, bigger bag, with most of his clothes and stuff, had been left at the check-in counter and was probably already in the depths of the airport) and scurried toward the terminal. There was no real hurry, now. That much was clear. But he still couldn't slow himself down. I have too much pent-up energy. Why can't I relax?

Aromatic scents greeted his pink, sniffing nose as he went. Cinnamon rolls with lots of gooey icing on them, glowing in glass containers beneath incandescent lights. He'd smelled those the moment he'd arrived. Maybe they were an airport staple or something? Spicy noodles, too. Mostly 'fast' food kiosks with neon signs. Which, as a rule, he always avoided in the real world. (The airport didn't feel like a real world to him. It was purgatory. A place between here and there.) He preferred to eat healthy. But, still, it made him hungry. There was also a lemony, plastic scent. Floor cleaner. This place was still new, of course, so everything was kept in a shiny state. Lots of glass windows. You could really see the snow, now. Whirling oppressively. And, on top of that, there were constant announcements over the loudspeakers, the murmur of the other passengers. So much was going on.

It was all so distracting to him that he didn't see her stop in the middle of the wide, carpeted aisle to check an overhead 'departures' screen. He scurried, head down, lost in thought, right into the back of her. Just like that. A surprised squeak and an 'mmf!', immediately losing his balance, wind-milling his arms instinctively. He almost caught himself. Almost. And would have, too, if he had let go of his bag. But he didn't, and the extra weight did him in. With an untimely twist, he performed an unintentionally comic face-plant. His tail shooting straight up for a split second and then flopping aside like a broken mast. It didn't hurt nearly as bad as it appeared to. At least, that's what he told himself as he rolled over onto his back with an airy groan.

The backpack-wearing rabbit he'd run into hadn't even budged, strangely. Like a cement wall or maybe a fortress. She was tall, lithe. Athletically elegant. Perfectly composed in every way. She just raised a brow and turned around, calmly, twiddling her antennae-like ears. "You okay down there?"

Mumbling, the rodent nodded. He was sitting flat on his rump, now, protectively reaching for his carry-on bag right as a group of squirrels scampered past. "Y-yeah ... I should've been more careful. I was stuck inside my own head." A sigh. "As usual. Careless of me ... "

"As long as you're no worse for wear," she replied, extending a friendly paw. "Come on. Take it."

He hesitated but took her paw, as ordered. It was warm. And her palm-pad felt so soft against his.

"Up you go ... "

She pulled with ease, and he bounced right on up, letting go of her and brushing at his clothes, idly. They were fine. When he returned his focus to her, he did a double take. Standing straight, his eyes only came to her breasts! He swallowed hard, giving a shy squeak before tilting his gaze slowly, shyly upward. Upward. Until eye contact was made. "Uh ... hi," he went, because he didn't know what else to say. He was a little tongue-tied.

The rabbit giggled. It was a light, attractive sound, indicative of someone with a good sense of humor. "I guess we should do a proper introduction?"

"Um ... " He stammered but nodded.

"I'm Malaika." A gentle bow, adjusting the backpack straps on her shoulders. "And, yes, I'm tall. I know."

"I've never seen your species before," the mouse blurted, admiringly. The rest of the terminal faded away. Not literally, of course. But it might as well have. It was like the apertures of his eyes had widened. Bathing her in diffused, heavenly light with such a short, hazy focus. He'd met rabbits, of course. Even a few hares. Well, maybe not 'met,' but he'd been around some. In the same room, okay? But none had been like her ...

Long, distinguished ears, soft, silky fur. Dark brown in color. Even her fluffy bobtail was brown (rather than the usual cottony white). Sharp black streaks ran all along her jaw-line on both sides of her muzzle, framing her cheeks like movie-star makeup. Like she was wearing a hitched-up collar. There was white, though, in spots, in the rings around her eyes. And cream-colored fur poked up above the neckline of her shirt, too, indicating her belly was probably lighter than the rest of her. And she was, indeed, tall. It was like her ears resided in the clouds.

" ... I'm not surprised," Malaika replied, eventually. Letting the mouse undress her with his eyes. No harm, right? She'd drawn similar reactions before, of course. Not to toot her own horn or anything. But whereas most males simply ogled, the mouse was almost revering her. It was rather flattering. "I'm a riverine rabbit. Not native to the Americas. There aren't many of us left," she told him, trying to draw him back to reality.

"Mm? Oh ... how come?" he asked, innocently.

"Nature doesn't always protect its children, I guess." She paused awkwardly, but quickly recovered. "You're an unusual thing, yourself, though," she teased, touching a finger to his nose. Bop! One finger. Like pressing a button.

It made him immediately cross-eyed and shivery.

She pulled her arm back with a sly smile and added, because it was the truth, "And so short, too. Are you even four feet tall?"

"Yes!" he defended, self-consciously, eyes falling. He held his tail in his paws, wringing at it a little bit. "I'm, uh ... actually, I'm almost five feet." Four feet, ten inches. Okay, nine-and-a-half inches. There was nothing wrong with rounding up. His chest puffed out, and he raised his gaze back up to hers, nodding emphatically. "It's true!"

"I believe you." She smiled, widely. Giving him a wink. "I'm six. To the top of my head. Doesn't even include the ears." And they looked to be an extra foot, possibly.

"I'm actually tall for a male of my kind. But I'm an African pygmy mouse. Is why I'm this size. It's genetic. I mean, I'm not from Africa, myself. I was born here in America. But my parents and, uh, grandparents ... " He sighed and swallowed, letting go of his tail. " ... so, we're all like this. The whole species. And my grandparents are in their eighties. I haven't seen them in decades, and they don't have much longer to, uh ... "

The rabbit nodded. My, he loves to ramble, doesn't he? Squeak, squeak, squeak. She listened, patiently, while also drinking in the mouse's fur. It was rather distinct. Almost brick red, or maybe russet. Hard to pinpoint in this white airport light.

" ... so, they wanted to see me. They paid for my ticket." He bit his lip with noticeable buckteeth. "So, yeah."

"That was very nice of them. They must care about you a lot."

"Mm-hmm. Makes me feel guilty, though. I don't know that I deserve it." He swayed, nervously, clutching at his carry-on bag. He sidestepped a wolf in a business suit. And then an Arctic fox in a parka. "Lot of predators in the city ... "

"I'd noticed," she replied. "I suppose we should leave the aisle. Find some empty chairs. I think all the flights are delayed. Might as well sit down while we wait." It was an invitation.

The mouse looked up, blinking shyly. "You want me to sit with you?"

"Yeah, why not? I'm flying alone."

"Me, too," he echoed. "I wonder if we're on the same flight?"

Malaika smiled. "Have no idea. Maybe ... "

He swallowed, looking overhead. Sure enough, the hanging monitors were now completely filled with big columns of 'DELAYED!' ... but, now, a few 'CANCELLED!' notices were popping up in ominous red. They might literally get stranded here! And for some time, too ... what a mess ...

The rabbit nudged the short rodent on the arm. "Let's go," she said, phrasing it in such a way that it both was and wasn't a suggestion.

Twitching, he nodded and followed her lead. Out of the main aisle, to the left. The seats were filling up quickly with weary, cranky travelers. A few crying cubs, too. The usual 'crowd' sounds. But they found a dim spot in the far corner. A wall behind them. Huge windows to their right, and the terminal stretching out everywhere else.

The rabbit, upon sitting, dropped her backpack to the floor and crossed her lithe, loping legs. The fur on her bare foot-paws was very thick. Maybe that was a winter adaptation. The mouse didn't want to ask, cause then she'd think he had a thing for foot-paws, which he really didn't. Though, uh ... you know ... I mean, they're nice and all. Hers are. Yeah. Those legs. I wonder what they look like bare. Hopping, loping, wrapping around my body and, uh ... I just don't have fetishes. I'm not kinky, he assured himself. No ...

"So, what's your name, again?"

"Hmm?"

"Your name."

"I don't think I actually said," he admitted, taking off his coat. The pockets were bulging. Stuffed with protective gear for his vulnerable extremities: toboggan for his head, ear-mittens for his ears, obviously. And then a balled up tail-sock, to boot.

"How 'bout you tell me, now? It's only fair," Malaika pressed, swinging one of her bare foot-paws toward him. Giving a harmless nudge to his knee. "I told you mine."

His ears went rosy-pink. "You'll laugh, though."

"I won't."

"I think you will," the short mouse insisted. He'd learned this from experience.

She made a 'cross my heart' gesture.

He sighed and looked away. Almost all the chairs were occupied, now. That was quick. And there were still dozens of furs standing around. There was literally nowhere for anyone to go. They were all stranded. Which was ironic, considering airports were places you went to become un-stranded, right? Realizing his attention was drifting again, he sat up straighter and finally mumbled his name.

"Say that again?"

"Chaparral," he repeated reluctantly, whiskers twitching.

The riverine rabbit's smile almost jumped off her outlined muzzle. She folded her arms and paws behind her head.

"You said you weren't gonna laugh!"

"Is this laughing? I can smile if I want." She looked the mouse over, indiscreetly. Hey, it was a free country. Aside from the brick-colored fur (and creamy front; gosh, he looks like a red velvet cupcake, doesn't he), his ears were less rounded than usual. Vaguely triangular. The grey tail was more typical, long and fleshy, dotted with short, nearly invisible hairs. "That's quite a fancy name, you know. Sounds very 'upstairs'."

"Upstairs?"

"Well, upstairs/downstairs. High-end versus lower-end."

"Maybe," he muttered. "But I'm called Chap for short, if that makes any difference. That's what I usually go by."

"Chap?" What a darling nickname. But she didn't say that. Just, "Less upstairs, but rather British."

"I've never even been to Britain."

"If you say so," Malaika teased. "Though, to be honest, you do seem rather out of place in an airport. You act like you've never even been in one. So, I guess you could be telling the truth."

"It's been a while, yeah ... "

"Since you've been here? Why's that?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I just don't travel much."

"There's gotta be a reason."

"Aside from money?" he posed, with obvious frustration.

"Well. Okay. That's a good reason," she said, nodding. "But you can find ways around that. Otherwise, no one would ever go anywhere." Especially in this economy.

"I'm just not very adventurous. I'm not impulsive. I, uh ... I'm a stick-in-the-mud." He looked down at the floor and to his bare foot-paws, sighing.

"Come, now," she chided, softly. "I wouldn't say that."

"Well, you just met me," Chap replied. "So, you wouldn't know."

"I'm a very good judge of character," the rabbit said, with a wink.

He blushed. And then looked into her eyes. They were, like the rest of her, a shade of brown. Chestnut, maybe. "Says who?"

"Says me."

Chap softened at this. "So, what are you doing here? Where are you hopping off to?"

"Ha, ha," she mocked. "I've never heard that one in my life. 'Hopping' off to ... "

"I wasn't even trying to be funny. It was just ... I mean, that's what rabbits do. You hop."

"Not exclusively," she defended, playfully. "I suppose your only mode of movement is 'scurry,' then?"

He stuck his nose into the air. "As a matter of fact, it is. I've been known to scurry up walls, even in repose. There goes Chap, they say. Sleep-scurrying again."

"And who's 'they'?" Malaika asked. "Your harem?"

"The proverbial universe. I don't know. Point is, you don't have to nitpick my use of language."

"I'm not nitpicking," she whispered back.

"Then what are you doing?"

"Flirting."

" ... oh." He swallowed. "Right. I knew that."

"Mm-hmm." A mew of mirth, crossing her arms in front of her, now. Right below her breasts. "But to answer your question, I played basketball in college. On scholarship. I'm tall and, like you pointed out, got the 'hops.' Tried, for several years, to get into the pros after I graduated. Never really work out. I'm good, but not that good ... " She sighed, wistfully. " ... so, a few weeks ago, I got an offer from a Euro league I'd tried out for last summer. I guess they like me. That, and a roster spot unexpectedly opened for them. It's only four months a year, or thereabouts. Pays well. I'll come back home in the off-season."

"I'm impressed," Chap said, shyly.

"Because I'm an athlete?" A head-shake. "It's hardly a 'rock star' existence. Not on my level. I'm basically going to the 'double minor league.' Several steps removed from where I'd like to be."

"But you're still wanted for your talent. That's what everyone wants out of life. That's what I want. Well, among other things ... plus, you get to see the world." He trailed off, adding, "You'll do well for yourself."

"Well enough, probably," she admitted, with a nod. "But there's no job security. I mean, I'm twenty-five. I have ten years of good playing time, and that's assuming I stay completely healthy. Most players get injured sooner or later. What'll I do after that? I've no backup plan. I'm only good at 'activities.' So, assuming I live 'til 85, that's fifty years. My modest nest egg won't last that long, and even if it miraculously did, I don't like to sit around." She made a face, gesturing with her coffee-brown paws. "I like to be active. That's part of the enjoyment I get from sports. Your heart racing, the rush of breath. Energy and endurance. Dancing with gravity. I'm a very physical rabbit," she stressed. "I love using my body."

"Uh-huh," Chap breathed, dumbly, eyes taking incredibly long exposures of her.

Malaika laughed.

"Sorry. I, uh ... I know you weren't necessarily talking about ... " He faltered, blinking repeatedly. He didn't want to say the word 'sex.' He didn't want her to think he was obsessed with it. Though maybe he was, sometimes. " ... I know you weren't talking about that, but ... "

"Relax," she said, casually. "What if I was? I'm a rabbit. We have a reputation in that department." She grew more serious, though, as she added, "But it doesn't really help my species. There are only a few hundred of us left. Pure-breeds, anyway. If you count the cross-breeds, you're talking a few thousand. I'm surprised the government hasn't captured me and put me in a zoo." A sarcastic chuckle.

"What happened?" Chap asked, quietly.

"Oh, you know, crossbreeding, of course ... then migration, politics. Our line became diluted and scattered at the same time. It isn't any one thing. We were a niche species to begin with, and we come into heat less frequently than other rabbits. So, we reproduce slower, and you know ... there's only so much you can do. No species lasts forever. I know we'd like to think otherwise, but those are just the sad facts." She paused before asking, "I mean, should I be forced to give up my basketball career to have countless kits? Probably by artificial insemination? So, I wouldn't even get the pleasure of conceiving them. Just inject me. Pop 'em out ... sacrifice my life and freedom for my species? When, in all reality, we're probably gonna go extinct eventually, anyway, and there are literally hundreds of other rabbit species to carry on our extended essence? Is it fair that I should have to bear the burden of our survival?"

The pygmy mouse shrank back a bit, having no answer. It sounded like a no-win scenario to him. He wanted to say he was sorry, but that might seem insincere.

"That's the situation we're in. The females, at least. There are maybe a hundred of us? The males ... well, I love males. Don't get me wrong," she assured, with a slightly-wicked grin. "They have their purpose." An exhale. "But their job is the easier one. Even if they're diligent fathers, we still get saddled with the hard stuff." A weak smile. "Listen to me, talking like it's someone's fault. I mean, that's how nature is. For a billion years! It's normal. It's beautiful." A sigh. "I really wouldn't mind being a mother, someday, honestly, but ... eventually, on my own terms. When I'm ready. Not now. Not until I'm thirty-five. Maybe even forty. That's my timeline. There's too much I want to experience before I take on that responsibility." She put her paws together. "I guess I'm a feminist, but who isn't nowadays? Is that selfish?"

"No ... "

"Well, my parents think it is. I'm one of nine purebred riverine children. My mother had her first when she was nineteen. Eventually, her body couldn't handle the strain anymore, and she had to go on the pill ... " She sighed. " ... I don't know. It's complicated. Like most things in life. I guess I have issues ... " She glanced out the big, vertical windows. "Yeah." The snow was coating everything like powdered sugar. Big, clinging flakes. Inches of it. You couldn't even see the pavement or the markings on the wings of the airplanes. It was a total white-wash, glowing eerily in the artificial lights under an otherwise darkened, cloudy sky. It was cold out there, too. Not subzero or anything. But definitely uncomfortable after a few minutes.

"I have issues, too," the mouse confessed, quietly. Hoping that would reassure her.

An airy laugh. "Yeah?" She turned her attention back to Chap. "What do you do, then?"

"My job, you mean?"

"Sure."

"That depends."

"On what?"

"The day. The season ... "

"You're unemployed?" Malaika guessed, apologetically.

"At the moment." He hated admitting that. It made him sound pitiful. "Just for the past few weeks. Well, past month. I'm a writer. Uh ... creative writing, actually. That was my area of concentration. But I'm pretty versatile. Also did some journalism. Not 'news,' though. I don't care for news. More like analysis. Criticism. I was a film critic for a paper, once ... " He nodded, whiskers twitching. "Then they moved everything online and just started linking to 'better' reviews. They didn't need me anymore." A sigh. "So, mostly, I just write on my own and take odd-jobs to get by. Stores, restaurants, agriculture. Whatever. I'm pretty frugal. I'm managing for now ... " But he knew it wasn't a long-term solution. He had zero savings. He'd never be able to retire when he got older. Eventually, he was going to have to find something stable. Or else.

Malaika offered a reassuring smile. "Yeah. It's difficult, anymore. I'm sure something will come up. I know that sounds totally lame and patronizing, and you probably get it all the time, but ... " It was better than being negative, wasn't it?

" ... yeah." He blew out a breath. "In the end, I think it's about who you know. Social connections, making inroads. Survival of the fittest. I guess that's what capitalism is. But I don't know that there's a better system." He wriggled, tensely. "It wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't so isolated. It would be more bearable, I mean. I live alone. In the middle of nowhere. Which ... okay, I prefer the country to the city. No contest. But loneliness wears you down. You start to feel heavier." He couldn't believe he was talking about this. But it felt good to unburden himself of these bottled-up feelings, and he kept going. She wasn't stopping him, after all. "The main thing, I think, is that furs look at me, and I'm so short? They think I'm just a teenager or something. They don't take me seriously as a mature adult. Not as a worker, or ... or as a potential mate," he added, sadly. "Just cause of how I look. And there's already this stigma attached to mouses, anyway. That we're anxious and weak. That we have all these hangs-ups. Maybe we do, but ... " He sighed, dejectedly. " ... I just hate being judged like that."

"That's their mistake," the rabbit whispered, after a moment. "I don't see anything wrong with you."

"You don't?" He looked up, biting his lip.

"No."

He smiled, helplessly. "I'm actually older than you. Bet you didn't think that."

"By how much?" she asked, raising a brow.

"Three years. I'm twenty-eight."

"You're right. I thought you were maybe twenty-two or something. But I was pretty sure you were 'legal,' at least," she teased, with a grin.

Dimples showed on the mouse's cheeks. "I'm definitely legal," he whispered back at her.

Giggling, Malaika leaned back, lazily, in her chair. She uncrossed her legs. "Hmm. Are you propositioning me?"

"You were the one who said they were flirting," Chap reminded, evasively.

"Only cause you were."

"I'm too submissive to have started it."

"That's not an outright denial."

The mouse took a breath. His throat was dry. "Uh ... well, no, it's not." He looked at her with burning attraction.

"Then shut up, mousey," she breathed, lightly, sticking her tongue out at him. Looking down at him in a very alluring way. Then adding, with a throaty, mewing sound, "You really remind me of a red velvet cupcake. But there's just one thing I haven't figure out yet ... "

"What's that?" he breathed, his heart skipping a beat.

"What flavor is your icing? Vanilla or cream cheese?"

The pygmy mouse felt his fur matting with sweat. Before he could even think about responding to that, an airline representative saw them in the corner, laughing and talking with such chemistry and apparent affection. He understandably mistook them for mates. He approached them with a voucher, apologizing for the hold-up, nothing we can do about Mother Nature, we're all in the same situation, et cetera. Then said, "It's getting a little too crowded in here. The fire marshals demand we keep the numbers under a certain size. There's still some hotel space adjacent the airport. It's not being used. Single bedrooms. So, as a courtesy to our loyal customers, we're trying to accommodate them. But we're taking care of the couples, mainly. Just to maximize the bed-space ... "

Chap blinked, his surprise leading to an impromptu near-confession. "Oh, but we're not ... "

" ... too modest to accept your offer!" Malaika finished, kicking the mouse in the shin. Giving him eyes that said 'shut up for real, this time.' "That's most kind. Really. Thank you," she told the rep, taking the voucher. "Uh, how do we get there, exactly?"

"It's not far. Just ... " And he pointed and gave them directions. "Have a goodnight," he bid them before moving on. He had a few more vouchers to give out.

"Oh, we will," the rabbit promised, under her breath.

"Malaika," Chap whispered, when the rep was truly gone. "We're not really mated."

A bright-eyed shrug. "Like I don't know that? All the flights are grounded. We're not goin' anywhere. Do you wanna sleep on these chairs for two days, or do you want a hotel? Even if it's an economy room with no breakfast buffet included," she said, reading the fine print. "But a bed's a bed."

The mouse blew out a breath. Yeah, a bed was a bed. That was true. But, in this case, they'd both be under the same covers. Doing who knows what. It was one thing to sit here and lust over this exotic, endangered rabbit and have boyish fantasies. It was another to think that they might actually come true! He was literally dumbfounded.

She stood up, brown bobtail flickering. Completely confident and towering over him like an Amazonian goddess. "Come on. Maybe we can get something to eat, too, on the way. I'm starving. What I wouldn't give for a fresh garden salad ... "

"I sleep in the fur, by the way," she announced, from the bathroom. Voice slightly muffled.

"Uh ... " Chap cleared his throat, licking his lips. He pawed at the bed-sheets. The lights were mostly off, except for the one on the ceiling right above him. And the bathroom light. " ... yeah. That's fine. I do, too." Really. He did. He wasn't just saying that so he could see her naked.

"Good." A gargling noise. Spit. "You already brush your teeth?"

"Yeah ... " He glanced at the bedside clock. It was well after ten. They'd stopped to eat at a little restaurant on the concourse, where they'd talked more. She'd gotten her salad. He'd ordered a grilled cheese on wheat bread, with a fruit/yogurt cup on the side.

"Do you shower at night or in the morning? Or both?"

"Night, usually ... why?"

" ... mm." Brush-brush. Spitting again, semi-warm water pouring from the faucet. "Only, you should probably wait until morning."

"Why's that?" was his delayed response.

She turned the water off, reemerging in a pearl-pink bra and panties. And nothing else. Arms bending, paws holding to either side of the open doorway as if she were holding up the foundation of the entire room. Or maybe even the world. Like a lapine Atlas. "Oh, I don't know," she breathed, her eyes sparkling.

"Right ... " The mouse nodded, hazily. She was steamier than a hot toddy on the worst winter night.

"Are you gonna take your shirt off or what?"

"Now?"

"Yes, now." She dropped her arms and sauntered toward the bed, sitting on the other side. A few feet away from him. And she reached an arm across to his, brushing her fingers against his wrist. "What's wrong?"

"I'm ... I'm really nervous, to tell you the truth," Chap admitted, his voice shaking.

"Aw. Really? Look, there's no reason to be," she assured, pulling her arm back. She cocked her head, quizzically. Suddenly wondering, "Have you had sex before?" She'd assumed so, but you never knew ...

"Are we having sex?" he countered, with an awkward evasiveness, voice raising to a cutely high pitch.

" ... uh ... yeah?" Malaika mouthed, barely audible. "I was hoping." She flashed him a wild, bucktoothed smile. "I'm horny. I thought you were with me on that. All that flirting, and ... " She tilted her head the other direction, waiting for him to confirm this for her.

"I'm horny, too. I mean, not like ... or, you know, I'm worked up. Like, I'm melty." A flustered pause. Settling on, "There's honestly not a polite way to state how I feel right now." He had to swallow before continuing, "And, yes, I've 'done things' before. It was just a very long time ago ... " Eight, nine years, now? He'd just turned twenty at the time.

She giggled, her eyes dilating. "I see. Well, if it puts you at ease ... we're furs, aren't we? We're sentient, but we're still animals. And we're stuck in the blizzard of the decade. Or, at least, something close to it. And, even if we just met, I happen to like you. I think you're cute. So, tell me: what else could we possibly be doing but fucking our tails off?" A lazy shoulder-dip. "Unless there's something on TV you'd rather watch ... "

"No. Nothing else." An emphatic, twitchy nod. And then a head-shake. And another nod. Yes? No? He couldn't tell what was up and what was down. She had him in a tizzy. "Yes. I mean, when you put it like that. That's an excellent point. I, uh ... what you said ... "

" ... God, you're adorable," she interrupted, leaning forward. Crawling toward him with happy, hungry look on her face. She'd had supper, of course. But she hadn't gotten her dessert yet. Her nose waggled up and down.

"You're beautiful," he blurted back.

"Thank you. Now, lose the shirt," she whispered, settling on her shins and knees in the middle of the bed.

"Did you put up a 'do not disturb' sign?" he asked. "Should we turn the light off now or after?" He raised his arms, tugging at his sweatshirt. It got caught on his head, and he wriggled like mad. His ears getting in the way. Tug, tug. Got it! Tossing it aside with a huff. "Malaika, I don't have a condom ... "

"Yes, after, and I'm clean and not in heat," the rabbit smoothly answered, in order.

"Okay. I'm not in heat, either," Chap mumbled, dumbly, as he fumbled with his belt. Unbuckling it, then popping open the button to his jeans.

A laugh. "I should hope not."

"I meant, I'm clean, too. I meant that part. I promise." He quickly undid his zipper and arched his hips, pushing his pants down his thighs. Oh, it felt so good to get out of these clothes. His whole body was electric.

"I know what you meant. And I believe you," she went, watching him undress. That's it. "Boxer-briefs. Interesting."

"Why?"

"I pegged you as the straight-up briefs type."

"I used to be ... "

"What made you switch?"

"These don't ride up with wear. They're more, uh, form-fitting." A shy smile as he added, "And they come in different colors."

"Heh. I see what you mean. Especially about the form-fitting." The outline of his swelling 'essence' was quite evident beneath the sky-blue cotton. She reached out and rubbed it through the barrier. Slowly, in circles. Helping it to grow even bigger.

His eyes closed, sucking air. It whistled faintly as it moved around his buckteeth.

"Contrary to what you might be thinking, I don't breed with every-fur I meet at the airport. Though I think I'd be right in saying I have more experience than you." She stopped rubbing his loins. And, for the first time, seemed almost vulnerable. "I really enjoy your company. You're genuine. I just want you to relax with me. Maybe we can put the world on hold and share something special ... "

"I'd like that so much. I just ... and I'm trying to relax. Honestly. I just can't believe this is happening," Chap muttered, excitedly. Looking up at her with wide eyes. Even when they were lounging in bed, she loomed over him. "I keep thinking: what if I parked my car a few minutes earlier, or got through the security line just a half-minute later? I never would've bumped into you. Then we never would've chatted, and we wouldn't be in this room, and ... "

"Yeah, you'd probably be in someone else's pants right now instead of mine," she teased.

A blush. "I definitely would not ... "

"No?"

"No." An adamant headshake.

"That's because you're a romantic, aren't you?" She'd guessed that fairly quickly. It was an attractive quality to her.

"Yes ... always have been, deep down. I'd just forgotten ... " Forgotten how it felt. How wonderful it was. Now, he remembered. She'd reminded him. This meant something. It must, because his brain was buzzing and his heart was swelling, and he felt a little drunk.

" ... glad I could jolt your memory. Now, how 'bout you return the favor." She, very close to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, loosely. Tilting her brown-furred muzzle and locking lips.

Chap's paws immediately went to her hips as they kissed. She twisted one way, and he followed, fluidly. And then she twisted again, smacking apart. Saliva strung. Neither said anything. They just bumped noses, panting quietly, and then melted easily into another kiss, and another. Each one spawning more.

Below, he curled his fingers around the hem of her panties. He began to shimmy them down, inch by inch. Freeing even more fur. Right hip, left hip, right hip. Until she pitched onto her side and raised her inviting thighs. The underwear was gone in a flash. Hers. His, too. He wriggled out of those boxer-briefs in a blink, also undoing her bra and flinging it over his back. They were both bare, now, fully exposed to each other. Fully given. He began sliding o'er the top of her body, their belly-fur meshing so softly. He kissed at her breasts. Tongue dancing around a nipple. And then directly on it. Lowering, slowly, into a sensual suckle.

Malaika nodded hotly, encouragingly, cradling his head as he nursed. Idly playing with his thin, fleshy ears. Nimbly tracing the edges. The sensitive rims. Drawing invisible patterns on the backs of the heated, blood-gorging lobes. The heat. Rising. Temperatures so hot that, if they were doing this outside in the parking lot, they'd surely melt all that snow away and all the cars and planes could leave. Together, they felt more vital than the sun.

Vowing not to stop until both her nipples were sapphire-hard, he switched his muzzle to the white-furred breast above her heart. Gently groping the recently-abandoned left breast with one paw while the other paw went down between her chestnut-furred legs, fishing about. A single finger working its way into her body. Curling up, temptingly rubbing the upper wall of her passage. And then pulling out soon after. Just giving her a faint, tickling notion of what was to come.

But she didn't want to be kept waiting. She was done being patient. She wanted it, now. Right now. Arousal had her moist and hot as a jungle. The endangered riverine rabbit squirmed to the middle of the bed and grabbed at the pygmy mouse, pulling, hugging. Laying flat on her back, opening her legs more fully for him. Arching herself upward so that he'd be forced to pin her back down as he slid into position. As he aimed to consummate their growing attraction.

His stiff, drooling essence, shaded blood-gorged pink, wasted no more time in nudging, unprotected, at her vulva, outright parting those pouty petal-lips. It was like an island of flesh in a sea of fur. Chap gave a quick, corrective shift of his hips, realizing he needed to adjust his angle. There. Down and up. Then pushing. Without asking. Without thinking. Just pushing, pushing. Now sliding forward, inward, sinking with shocking smoothness into her feminine tunnel. Finally, fusion.

She softly gasped at the long-awaited penetration, toes curling in mid-air before her heels settled, in a digging manner, on the backs of his legs. He was of comfortably average length. She'd expected that. He was a mouse, not a horse, after all. It was perfectly nice. But the girth took her slightly by surprise. She had to admit. He was admirably thick when erect. She couldn't help but wriggle her furry, bobtailed rump as her slick walls formed around him like a glove, a sheath, a second skin, prompting him into seeking the friction that would lure them into nature's delicious snare.

Huffing, he pulled back, leaving the blunt, plum-pink head of his member just inside her body but exposing the now-glistening, vein-popping shaft to the bedroom air. Savoring the dual temperatures of both spaces. He closed his eyes and pushed back in. So smooth, like a knife through butter. An immediate hilt. His tightening, furry sac nestling against the flesh of her vulva. He would've been a fool not to moan. "Oh-h ... "

"Mm ... yeah, m-mousey ... "

Urged on by her response, he began grinding, gyrating his hips in a concerted, clockwise fashion. For about half-a-minute. Ensuring that his tufted groin-fur was rubbing directly over her sensitive, budding clitoris.

Her head rolled aside, ears flicking, nose moving up and down. Her maw hanging open. Panting hotly, as if she couldn't get enough.

So, he kept doing it, starry-eyed, trying to stay composed when, with raging instinct, he truthfully wanted nothing more than to resume thrusting. And, eventually, he did. Had to. Oh, God. Oh, yes ... yes ... ditching the 'side-to-side,' and indulging in a healthy, happy amount of genital-squelching 'in-and-out.'

" ... ah! Ah-n ... " She wrapped her lithe limbs around him more tightly than before. Her athletic strength never more evident. The feel of her grip. Her scent mixing with his own, fur literally flying, as loose strands drifted in the air that stirred above their bodies due to the force of their movements. As they simultaneously hopped and scurried in horizontal place. "Nn-h ... "

He lost himself in her. His tail whipped and his hips blurred. His essence moving like an oiled piston. Such intense, needy passion. He wanted, suddenly, to kiss her again. To taste her again. Like how one craved the cherry on top of a sundae. He wanted that sweetness. But she was still taller than him, even laying down. He couldn't quite reach her maw from this position. He strained his neck, but he couldn't get his lips close enough. Not unless he were to pull out of her body, and ... well, at the moment, in the throes, he hadn't the willpower to do that ...

Sensing this, she immediately caressed the back of his head, ears and all, guiding his maw, instead, back to her breasts, urging him to nurse. And he did. He took the substitute. Tenderly but hungrily, he was all over her furry, feminine mounds, scaling those peaks.

Eventually, she began rolling her athletic hips upward, easily countering each of his thrusts, grunting in pleasure, ears bending back against the headboard of the bed as his humping became more desperate, more erratic. He drank her in with his half-open eyes, watching her face as his foot-claws nicked holes in the sheets from his repeated pushing off the firm mattress. Getting any purchase he could get. Deeply, swimmingly, diving into her divine, velvety pussy.

And then her walls became a little tighter, and a little more, more, almost like they were squeezing him. Undergoing involuntary spasms. She was having an orgasm. It was happening. Her blunted, whiskery muzzle raised to the ceiling, the veiled heavens, gaping quietly before the moans made it out, in hot, mewing force. Her whole body seized up in a firework of bliss, paws sweating. She clutched to the mouse's matted back-fur, whimpering like a beast.

He was floored by the strength of her release. His throbbing mouse-hood, having been tantalized to the point of tingling, now suddenly massaged and milked without mercy. It was too much. Unable to control it, he gave up. He succumbed. Pygmy mouse seed shooting, in a quick, direct blasts, whitely into her womb. Each ejaculation was a summer lightning storm in his brain, down his spine, and to the very tip of his vibrating tail. He arched his short, wriggly body, crying out with her, for her, because of her. Squeaking loudly. Having since come away from her breasts, he mouthed the fur near her collarbones. Time stopped. The world went away. Nothing existed but this. And, then, just as soon, because it had to, because those were the rules, his climax tapered off. Like a roller coaster reaching bottom, he slumped atop her, breathlessly.

Malaika, in an afterglow-induced high, just hugged him, not knowing what to say. Words couldn't explain the realm her heart had just reached. So, she said nothing, splaying her fingers in his back fur and running her big foot-paws up and down the backs of his legs. She just wanted to keep feeling him.

He nuzzled her unique, elegant body, overcome with joy. So much so that he was crying. Not loudly, or even with any sound at all. But when his eyes opened, they were unmistakably very wet.

"I'm so very glad we missed that plane," she finally said, breaking the silence. Her paws moved up, up his back with a slow, vulnerable cadence, eventually reaching his neck. She rubbed his nape before hugging him, loosely.

"Me, too," he sighed. "Thank God for blizzards." He wondered, for a split second, what would happen when the snow ended and they really had to leave? They still hadn't checked to see whether they were on the same flight, but even if they were, they were headed to different cities on different continents for different lengths of time. They couldn't just break their commitments. Not anytime soon. But, though strangers in the night up 'til half an hour ago, now, after what they'd just done, after the heights they'd reached ...

Maybe they could stay in touch or something? Meet up again, sometime, and try for something longer? Fantastical thoughts and scenarios mixed with more grounded predictions in both their heads. When you felt something good, your first thought generally revolved around how to get more of it. It was animal nature. But, please, don't assume anything. Don't ruin this moment with greed. Just enjoy it. Whatever happens, happens. You'll remember this for the rest of your life. No matter what comes next ...

"Chap?" she breathed, against his neck.

"Mm?"

"I don't wanna get up to turn the light off." A sheepish giggle.

"I'll do it." He pulled out of her, gently, excess semen trickling out of her and to the bed-sheets. He blushed at this. Maybe because it truly drove home what they'd just done. Indefensible visual evidence that she'd given herself to him, and he, in turn, had taken her. It hadn't been a dream.

"Okay." She stretched, fluffing a pillow under her head. Batting at his ropy tail as he sat up. "Just don't take longer than five seconds, cause I honestly think I'm addicted to your body heat. And the feel of your fur. And about a dozen other things."

"Malaika, I'm gonna melt if you keep saying stuff like this ... " He sounded happily embarrassed. How do you know when you really love someone? When does it start? What am I feeling right now?

"Not possible."

"You don't think so?"

"Red velvet cupcakes don't melt. They crumble," she told him, flicking a single ear in his direction.

"So, that's my official nickname, now ... "

"Yep."

He sat up, dizzy, hazy, and looked her over with adoration one last time before he went to turn off the light and plunge them into intimate, sleepy darkness. He may have been self-consciously short. But with her, he suddenly felt ten feet tall. And he hoped, when he stood up, that he wouldn't bump his head on the ceiling. He was lucky he didn't.

"Oh, and Chap?"

"Yeah?" he squeaked as he flicked off the light, his eyes taking several moments to adjust. Making his way back to the bed, he saw her spread out and looking promisingly his way.

"I owe you a kiss ... "