Brighter Visions Beam Afar
"Mm?"
" ... I said, 'you're distracted'," Ketchy repeated, sipping her drink, a benign, homemade punch. Ginger ale, frozen orange juice concentrate, pineapple juice, and sugar. Very sweet, with icy chunks. She took a few more sips, before swallowing and continuing, "You get in these 'broody' moods, sometimes." A short sip. "I tend to notice. Mm ... you tried this stuff? The punch?" The squirrel's bushy tail was arched proudly behind her, fluffy, luxurious. Squirrel-tails were the creme-de-la-creme of tails (or so any squirrel would tell you). They spent a lot of time, daily, grooming them
"It's Field's recipe," was the nodding, slightly-distracted response. The bat's own tail was sticking through the 'tail-gap' built into the back of her chair. It was a two-foot tail, short, a bit thick. Like a rudder, almost. To steer the air with. It was covered in soft, pink fur. Just like the rest of her. Watermelon, cotton candy, carnation-colored pinks. Oh-so-feminine pinks.
"Ah, that's right. I don't know why I forgot that."
"Well, it's actually his grandma's. Yeah, it's tasty." A pause, tilting her head a bit, and then blinking a few times. "Broody?" Adelaide asked, just now registering what the squirrel had earlier said.
They were both in the library, with a small crowd. The new library. Being that the old one (built in the 20's on a Carnegie Grant) had been unceremoniously shuttered. The new one had been placed not that far away, at the end of the Main Street, rather than in the center. The place was well-lit, with the overhead, neon lights turned on, giving their shadow-free glows, contrasting with the golden lights of the candles that were on the long, wooden tables, the tabletops covered with red and green cloths. Not fancy tablecloths, but not garish ones, either. Simple, festive things. Christmas music was playing in the background, elegant, mostly instrumental. Traditional, spiritual songs, not pop songs. And the invited guests, be them sitting or standing, were chattering and nibbling on cookies, scattered throughout the main space.
"What?" Ketchy asked, sitting opposite Adelaide, over near one of the walls.
"You said I get 'broody'?" the pink-furred bat repeated.
An honest nod, and a little, chittering smile. "Uh-huh. Why? You don't like that?"
"Well, I'm not sure even sure what you mean. Like, how do ... "
" ... your heat's in the middle of the month, right? Usually every, uh ... "
" ... six weeks. Three days every six weeks." A tiny, quiet nod. "So, sometimes the middle, sometimes the beginning. Yeah." A pause. "I can't work then. Middle of next week."
"Think I don't know that?" was the reply. She'd tried working through one of her heats before. Bad idea. Absolutely no focus, no coherence of thought. Absolutely swimming in pheromones, drawing hungry glances from every male she passed. She'd lasted an hour, before she'd called Denali, sobbing, pleading for him to come and take her. Take her home, yes. But literally 'take' her, more importantly. To make the feral feelings stop. It was rather scary. To be so overwhelmed with desire. You felt like an animal. Everything became so raw.
So, it was generally the policy of all employers that a femme and her mate would have 'heats' as paid off-time. But, sometimes, furs needed the money from work, and would stubbornly try to ignore the urges.
"Yeah, I know you'll be off," Ketchy continued. "I think Ezri may fill in for you." Ezri was another squirrel, and a casual friend of Ketchy's and Adelaide's, being that Ezri worked with Field at the orchard. But the orchard was closed for the cold season. "She had her heat last week. She's free, so ... I mean, I know Field's the current substitute worker for such things, but he can't fill in for someone's heat leave when he's on heat leave, himself, you know?"
Adelaide just nodded. And stuck out her dextrous bat-tongue just a bit. "I know." But it was true that bats' reproductive systems were a bit slower than most other furs. Not in terms of sex drives, no, but they did had longer gestations. Longer periods of time between 'heats,' et cetera. Because of such biological things, bats weren't as common as many other species. They just didn't reproduce as quickly or as much. Though they were by no means 'endangered' or 'rare.'
"Well, it's December 8th today, so ... you said middle of next week," the squirrel said.
"So?"
"Well, it's around this time, around four or five days before your ... " The squirrel trailed, nodding. " ... you start to get broody. Never fails. But more so, recently."
"Just because I have wings, Ketchy, doesn't mean I'm a bird," was the response. "I don't have a 'nesting' instinct. I don't need to be sitting on eggs."
"No, but you got eggs. Rather, 'an' egg ... that you really want your mouse to have."
Adelaide said nothing, just looking down into her plastic cup of punch. It was good punch. Probably the best she'd ever had.
"You listening?"
"Ketchy," Adelaide responded, looking up. Her angular, swept-back ears keen of hearing. Not as big or noticeable as mouse-ears. And maybe not as good in terms of range. Though, technically, Adelaide could hear higher pitches than Field. "I am listening, alright. I just ... what do you want me to say? I don't even know what your point is." She took a deep breath through the nose. The air smelled of gingerbread and peppermints, of evergreens. There was a little Christmas tree, a real one, set up by one of the big windows near the double doors. It was decorated with candy canes and gingerbread furs. Hence the nice smells. The lights on the tree were the golden variety, rather than the colored kind. At home, Field and Adelaide's tree had the colored lights. The ones that could blink on and off if you chose a certain setting. Akira loved those. She would sit and stare, mesmerized. The sight melted Adelaide's heart. She had Field take a picture of the scene.
"Well, you just go on these nurturing sprees. Before your heat. 'Broody.' Like, today, you kept trying to do things for me, kept asking me if I was okay, and ... like you were my mother or something. Then you kept hugging me for no reason ... "
Adelaide smiled lightly, tilting her head a bit, deep-pink eyes brightening. " ... well, I suppose I may have been a bit smothering today, now that you mention it." She ran her finger along the rim of her plastic punch-cup. "I mean, outside Field, you're my best friend. I just wanna make sure you're okay."
"I am okay," the squirrel insisted, tail fluttering behind her a bit.
Adelaide just nodded quietly. "Alright," she whispered back.
"Are you reading my mind again?" the squirrel asked, raising a brow.
"I'm not reading it. I'm sensing it. There's a difference."
"I don't know how you even wield all that," Ketchy said, after a small pause, with an accompanying shake of the head. "All that mind stuff. Those 'mind powers'. Seems too complicated to me."
The bat didn't say anything to that. Just took a healthy gulp of punch, and said, "I've been smothering you?"
"I shouldn't have said anything. I mean, it's fine ... you only do it when you get 'broody', like I said, so ... "
" ... and you don't get broody?"
"As a rule, no. I mean, not that I've ever noticed. Not that anyone's ever told me," Ketchy said, picking up a cinnamon cookie that was shaped like a star. She nibbled off one of the 'arms' of the star with her rodent buckteeth. "Anyway, I've never really wanted kids. I'm not the brooding type. You, however ... "
" ... well, why haven't you told me this before? I mean, why tell me now? I mean, is it a problem, or ... "
" ... no, no." An insistent breath. "Just so you know, is all. Just so you're not around strangers, who don't know you as well as I do ... and get all 'smothery' around them."
"Is 'smothery' a word?"
"Let's assume it is." The squirrel smiled. "I just wanted you to know, is all, so you can ... you know, I don't want ... "
" ... you're just trying to make sure I don't embarrass myself around strangers. Like at a party here, mm?" the bat guessed. They were, the both of them, at this Christmas party. They both worked at the library, and it was the annual staff Christmas party, which was always held a week or so into December. Everyone on the staff was here, as well as family members, et cetera. And library card holders. It was basically open to the whole town. Not enough furs had come to make it 'standing room only' or anything, but there was a nice crowd. It was a Friday evening.
Ketchy nodded a little.
Adelaide smiled. "Well, I appreciate that. But aren't you 'mothering' me about my 'smothering?' I think you nurture me just as much as I nurture you. That's what friends do. They nurture each other. They don't need a reason. They don't need instinct to compel them to care," she breathed, "for each other."
The squirrel flushed a bit, nodding, angular ears cocked atop her head.
"Aside from Field, you're my best friend," Adelaide continued.
Ketchy didn't respond to that.
Adelaide didn't need her telepathy to sense the squirrel's sudden unease. All she had to do was read the rodent's body language. Her twitches and such. And, being married to a rodent, being intimate with a rodent (with Field, of course), Adelaide was well-versed in their body language. "Ketchy ... "
A sigh. " ... what?"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing." A pause. A whisker-twitch. "Just ... I seem to be every-fur's 'best friend.' I mean, aside from their mates. Aside from Field, you say I'm your best friend. Aside from Orinoco, Rhine considers me her best friend. And so on ... and it's, like, you know, I just don't know why that is." A little sigh. "I just ... " She frowned for a second, looking up, the frown fading, whiskers twitching. " ... it makes me feel a little, uh ... I don't know," she admitted. "Everyone likes me. And yet, sometimes, I don't like myself."
Adelaide nodded quietly, saying, "Well, you have a history." A pause, not elaborating. Only, "You're very much like Field, in some ways. Like most rodents. You need constant care and affection. You need someone who's just a little bit more dominant or confident than you," the bat said, "to be there, to build you up. Someone who, in return, you can love and latch to and be everything for."
Ketchy said nothing for a little while, just looking down at the table. "That doesn't explain why I just ... am so hard on myself."
"Because, most of your life, you've given your entire sense of self to furs, and have usually gotten nothing in return. But you're too nice and too good a Christian to be mad at others, to blame anything on them. So, you blame yourself. You feel that you're not good enough. That maybe there's something wrong with your personality, or maybe you need to give even more than before, and ... " The bat trailed. " ... then you end up overextending yourself, and you get all frazzled."
Several whisker-twitches.
"Field has some of the same problems, like I said. Or did, anyway. Except, with him," Adelaide said, "it was more a situation where ... well, he didn't just blame himself. He punished himself. He didn't eat. He ... " A sighing, little pause. She didn't like to remember that her husband had once been in so much pain. She wished she could erase all of those memories from his mind. But knew she couldn't. Knew that, if those memories were gone, the growth that had resulted from them would be negated. " ... he wasn't in good shape when I got involved with him. He was afraid of intimacy. The first time I kissed him, he shook. His paws literally trembled, and he started crying, and ... it was hard for me to deal with. Because seeing him in pain made me feel pain. It took a while," the bat breathed, "to get him to stop associating love with pain. To get him to realize that they weren't the same thing. He'd just come to believe that, every time he let his guard down, someone was going to hurt him. Was going to rip his heart out. He was just terrified of everything."
"All of us rodents," Ketchy breathed, not making eye contact, "carry that anxiety. That fear. It never goes away. Other species can't understand."
"I understand it," Adelaide breathed, very seriously. "You know what Field and I do when we ... make love," she whispered, privately. "You know what happens. I've told you. So, you can believe me when I say: I know exactly how it feels. Because I've felt it from his point of view."
The squirrel's eyes watered. She sighed and blinked. "I, uh ... I didn't mean to make it sound like ... "
" ... it's alright," the bat soothed, not letting the squirrel apologize. Because there was no need for her to do so. And because rodents had a habit of constantly apologizing. "But the anxiety doesn't have to control you. It can be honed, channeled ... calmed. You know that."
The squirrel nodded, looking to her friend. "Rhine's just so bright and funny. So irreverent. Playful. You're so confident and toothy, so warm and sultry. And me? I'm ... just me," she said. "I'm just little, old Ketchy."
"You're twenty-three. That's hardly old. It better not be, anyway," Adelaide teased. For she was the same age.
This drew a small smile from the squirrel. "Well, you know what I mean. It's, like ... I wanna be those things. I want those qualities. I'm just I'm too boring. I'm too plain. I don't have children like you or Rhine or ... you know, haven't started a family. I'm married, but I married outside my species."
"So did I."
"Yeah, but you married into a family of mouses. That's not too far from bats. I married into otters. That's way different. Sometimes, I just feel ... "
" ... like the odd fur out."
A quiet nod, and then a sigh. "Don't get me wrong. I love otters." A pause. "I must sound like I'm feeling sorry for myself or something. I'm really not. I'm just ... I've always been this way," she breathed. "I take myself too seriously." A whisker-twitch. "I mean, I tell all these things to Denali," she said, of her husband. "I mean, I tell him everything. It's just ... sometimes, I don't think he understands like you do. I mean, cause you're ... like, you have a special knowledge of what it's like to be a rodent. Like you said, with your, uh ... through Field, and your mind-stuff, and all."
Adelaide smiled gently. "It's fine. Mm ... " She began sipping her punch again, sighing, thinking of Field, which led to a few random thoughts, which led to her thinking about ...
... an hour or so earlier, closing time at the Sheridan library. Outside, that too-soon winter-dark where the sun went to sleep at five-o'clock. The cloud cover threatening flurries. The book-laden building being relatively devoid of activity right now, save for the lively presences of Field and Adelaide. And Ketchy and Denali. And Akira.
The two adult femmes had been the only ones working here today. The two males, meanwhile, had dropped their wives off this morning, each couple only having enough money to own one vehicle. Them, a car. And Field and Adelaide, a truck. There wasn't a college graduate or attendee among the four of them. Denali worked at the garden supply center in Westfield, eight miles southeast. Field worked from March to November at an apple orchard and country store near his and Adelaide's farm-house. Right now, though, with his work closed for the season, the mouse worked as a substitute at the library. Adelaide had gotten him the job, but it was only for a few days a week. The other days, he watched Akira, their two year-old daughter. On days both he and Adelaide were working, Field's family usually watched the little mouse-bat.
Regardless, both males were now back. Not to take their wives home. Rather, to help them set up for the library's Christmas party. And Field had Akira in tow. But, right now, Akira was being watched by Ketchy, because all worries and details and circumstances aside, certain things just absolutely had to be taken care of, like the ...
... pleasant, rising fire in her supple, furry hips, in her soft, delicate groin. Oh, yes, a fire. Is what it felt like. The best kind. The kind that didn't burn you or hurt you, but licked you deliciously up. Fueled by oxygen, as well as need and desire, the heat was only stoked higher by the ministrations of her mouse.
Slick-slick, was the subtle sound, the sound of his modest, circumcised shaft dipping in and out of her treasured tunnel. Slick-slick. Sinking in, pulling back. Only the head remaining inside. And then the whole of it sinking back in, only to pull back again. The constant repetition of that friction, that thrusting. That in and out.
That loving intercourse.
For, oh, yes, he had the bow. His mouse-hood, like the bow that played her violin. Her strings. Bow and strings, coming together, body parts, spiritual art. And it was like music was being made.
The mouse and bat were in the staff kitchen, lights on, door locked, window-blinds shut. Field, having come in from the cold, still dressed (somewhat) to that effect. A coat on, unzipped, hanging loosely open, with a button-up t-shirt showing beneath. The shirt long enough that, normally, it would end just below his tufted sac. But the fabric was scrunched and lifted, resting above his genitals, where it was soaking up some juices. His sac, meanwhile, was swelling, tightening closer to his body, nestling right into her labia with every forward movement.
The bat, fangs embedded in his muscle, leaking 'mating milk' into his blood, just drooled and huffed, eyes half-open.
His blue jeans, unbuckled belt, and white, cotton briefs were collected round his ankles, almost obscuring his bare, honey-tan foot-paws. Though it was cold out, it wasn't cold enough to mandate shoes. So, they remained bare, rising and falling, pushing off the carpeted floor. And then lowering. And pushing. Going up to tip-toes and back down to the pads, then back to toes, allowing his hips to move vertically as well as horizontally. Allowing him to subtly alter his angles into her. His modest, four and a half inch mouse-hood driving into her with succulent passion, pushing her further into bliss. Oh, yes, even while in the grips of his own, hazy pleasure, he managed to brush her walls in certain, different ways, expertly working her body. Holding her with one paw, and the other straying, straying ...
... Adelaide, half-naked, sucked air and tensed beautifully.
He was thumbing her clitoris.
"Nn, hnn ... " Muffled huffs, her breaths washing hotly, moistly over his honey-tan neck fur. Where her muzzle was stuck 'til they both climaxed.
His fingers, as deftly as they could given their situation and position, brushed over her nub, then focused on the flesh around it. Stroking circles around it. But not quite touching it.
The bat arched, moaning from the throat, her lower attire completely off. Pants and panties on a chair over there. Still, though, dressed in her bra and shirt, sitting on the very edge of the wooden table. On the edge, sitting on her rump, thighs not-so-shyly parted, winged arms around his neck and upper back. Pulling him forward a little, leaning her own body slightly back, her femininity now far enough from the edge of the table and elevated enough to give Field less-strenuous access. Her fangs still embedded in his neck, where they'd been for five minutes now.
But they'd been going quickly, eagerly, a bit sloppily, given their location and time constraints, and the mouse was already beginning to lose it (or 'give it,' perhaps). He withdrew his paw from her groin and put it on her back, beneath her shirt. Clutching her fur. Both his paws around her now, body leaning forward, forward, further against her. Further into her. Erratic, high-pitched squeaks, his mouse-hood tingling with pleasure. Tingling. Pleasure. "Oh, oh ... uh ... " Breaths starting to fall over each other, ears throbbing hot, gorged with blood. A sort of beet-red, the heat spilling through the rest of him, matting his fur, putting him in a total, squeaky haze.
Adelaide hugged him haphazardly, hurriedly. Hugged him happily. Holding hard. Her femininity beginning to ripple slightly, as if pulsing, as if trying to milk him.
Squeaks, squeaks, soft, simple, simmering. Her raw-pink, furnace-like muscle so slick and steamy, so perfectly fitting over his flesh, so perfectly ... perfect ... p-pleasure. "Ah, ah ... ah." A sudden, sloppy, squelching hilt, the twitches, the spasms. The convulsions of shared pleasure. As he ejaculated time and again, each spurt of semen sending a bolt of pleasure shiver-scurrying up his spine. Oh, such satisfaction, sowing the love of his life. Becoming one with her. Feeling her. And her, in turn, feeling him.
Oh, spiritual union.
Oh, love.
The bat, smelling his scent, his sex, his sweat, gurgle-chittered, sounds muffled against her husband's neck, her body following with tremors and shakes, elaborating on his climax by adding her own. Furious ripples of her vaginal muscles, clenches, a flowering, feminine pleasure that seemed to fling itself to her extremities. Tremor. "Hnn." Spasm. "Mm!" Her cervix dipping down to get as much seed as possible, and orgasmic fluid dribbling from her sex. Her sweet, sweet sex. Her wings weak, her paws unable to close. So shaky from the tidal wave of pleasure. She could only pant and reel, reel. Reel. Rather dazed.
The mouse's eyes closed, he panted audibly, very flushed beneath his fur.
Adelaide, sighing, eventually drew up the energy to pull her fangs out of his neck, severing the direct, telepathic link. And looking to her husband with half-open, hazy eyes. "Mm ... oh. Oh, Field ... "
" ... w-what?" he asked, whiskers weakly twitching. And, while the bat had pulled out of him, he hadn't yet pulled out of her. He couldn't make himself move. The head of his mouse-hood got ultra-sensitive after orgasm, and it was surrounded by her still-juicy walls. The act of pulling his organ back made him wince with sensitivity. So, he stayed put. For a little bit longer. Besides, it felt so warm and nice where it was. Oh, gosh.
" ... love you," was her breathy fragment of a sentence.
Eyes closing, he leaned his forehead, fur lightly matted with sweat, against hers. "I love you, too," he whispered, adding, in his shy, effeminate tone, "so much ... darling ... "
" ... it's alright," she soothed, winged arms around his back, now. Tugging at his coat. "Mm. You look," she told him, to lighten the mood a bit (after such fierce, intimate pleasure), and because she couldn't resist, "so cute in a tail-sock."
His ears, having descended from their heated high, flushed back up again. Just a little. In his haste, he hadn't taken his tail-sock off. Mouse-tails were bare, delicate flesh. Same with their dishy ears. So, in cold weather, in winter, they needed ear-mittens and tail-socks as protection from frostbite and numbness and such. He'd remembered to remove the ear-mittens. It was impossible to forget those, being that his ears were very erogenous and got very hot when gorged with blood. Ear-mittens made the heat stifling and the sensitivity unbearable. So, his ear-mittens were on the floor. His tail, while nicely sensitive (lined with short, invisible hairs) didn't produce the same effects. So, he hadn't been prompted to remove the tail-sock. Besides, his tail, being long and thin, was the part of his body that always got cold first, and ...
" ... your mind's wandering," Adelaide told him. "You're obsessing."
"I'm not. I just ... forgot to take it off," he said, of the tail-sock. His tail snaking through the air, slightly held down by the cotton fabric of the tube-like covering. It was a bit comical to see the normally-expressive, ropy tail slightly fighting gravity like that.
"I said it's cute," Adelaide repeated, smiling.
"It's silly. I feel silly."
"That all you feel?" was the tease, paws holding to the sides of his shirt. She found it rather amusing that they'd launched into a casual, little conversation, being that their genitals were still meshed together. She loved that they were that intimate. That they could be in such a situation and, in the coming-down from the sexual high, tease and talk to each other so easily.
" ... it felt really good," he said, after a moment. Of their quick bout of love-making. "It always is. You always ... feel so good." A staggered sigh.
"Mm," was the bat's own contended sound. "My mouse," she breathed, with such affection.
Field, feeling himself shrinking, and feeling the sensitivity lessening to what he could handle, slowly pulled his hips back, mouse-hood glistening with fluid as it flopped aside, leaving excess mouse-seed to trickle out of Adelaide's petal-lips. "I'll, uh, clean up," he told her. He was a compulsive tidier, anyway. He didn't mind.
"Alright," she breathed, slipping off the edge of the table, to her foot-paws. "Whoops." She almost lost her balance. "Knees a bit weak," she panted, swallowing. And then smiling tenderly. "You make my knees weak. I've never been able to say that about anyone else," she told him, soon regaining her balance. And, once doing so, stepping into her panties and jeans. "We're gonna have to wash ourselves with water from the bathroom sink, cause ... there's no shower here."
"I remember."
"Well, we can't smell like breeding when the party starts. We'll draw every nose in the room." She raised and flapped her winged arms, stretching. "Mm." Flap-a-flap-a! Soon lowering them, making a few chitter-sounds.
Field, flushing, nodding. "Uh ... will you wet some towels in the, uh, bathrooms, then? Later? We can wet our fur, and pat it dry."
"Course. Well, let's clean up in here and then get everything set up first ... we'll have a half an hour leftover to get the scent off." A pause, now fully dressed, adjusting her clothes 'til they were comfortably on and comfortably smoothed. "You think Akira's driven Ketchy crazy yet?"
Field smiled as he finally pulled his own pants and briefs back on, padding to the sink, wetting a dish-towel with some water and liquid soap (scented citrus). "Probably," was his eventual response. "She's always jittery around kids."
"I think she's afraid of them," Adelaide said, honestly. "She's very conflicted about ... well, cause she can't get pregnant by Denali. He wants a baby, but she doesn't have a strong inclination. She just needs more confidence, I think. She's convinced herself she's deficient on some level. And that she'll raise a child wrong. Or maybe it's their innocence. You know, the 'innocence of babes?' Maybe it intimidates her. Cause she's made so many mistakes in the past." A pause. "Mm. I know my rodents."
"You do," Field agreed, washing up the 'mess' on the table.
"Yes, indeed," Adelaide echoed, beginning to strip the mouse's tail of its tail-sock.
Field, smiling shyly, turned his head. "I thought you said I looked cute in it."
"You do," was her sultry whisper. "But, no matter what, mouse-parts always look better in their natural state. I prefer you naked."
"Adelaide," the mouse replied, in that quiet, bashful way of his, that effeminate way of his. He cleared his throat. "I can't go again," he eventually said.
"Did I say I wanted to go again?"
"Well, you have that 'unfulfilled' look about you."
A giggle-chitter. "Maybe. I'm just ... we normally take our sweet time. Make it lingering, sizzling, romantic. I'm not used to grabbing 'quickies' after hours at work." They'd done this before, of course. In this same way. In this same room. But, still, it wasn't part of their normal routine.
"I know what you mean," Field said, nodding. "But I ... I won't be reloaded," he whispered, "'til my next peak." Which would be about six hours from now, before bed. "I can't, like ... like your ... " A flush.
Adelaide grinned. Field always stammered when he it came to discussing sexual mechanics.
" ... you can have lots of orgasms at once. I can't," he finally blurted. "You have quick refractions. I need time ... "
" ... between erections. Field, it's fine. Calm down, mm?" She showed her fangs, full of mirth. "You're sated. That's fine. I'm not asking to go again. I'm sated, too. I was just saying, is all, that 'quickies' leave me wanting more."
"Quickies," he repeated, whiskers twitching. "Eh, it sounds ... I don't like how that sounds."
"Sounds too illicit?" the bat asked, going to the sink, washing her paws.
"It does."
A chitter. "Mm. You're the best," she said, grinning again.
"Why?" he asked, eyes mousey-wide, full of innocence. "What'd I say?"
Turning the faucet off, drying her paws, she turned and said, "Your modesty's just too cute."
"You think everything about me's cute," he pointed out. "Not that I mind," he added, quickly. "Just that, well ... you do."
"Well, that's your sexual advantage, isn't it? Cuteness? Mousey cuteness? I can tell you," she breathed, "it's got me totally hooked." She brushed her fingers against his whiskers, across his chin. As she walked past him. "You done cleaning up?
A nod.
"Well, we better let Ketchy and Denali have the room. And take over on the setting up." And a sudden chitter. "You brought the ingredients, right? For the punch?"
"Yeah. They're still in the truck. I'll, uh, go and get it," he said, washing and wringing the dish-towel, setting it on the wrack, and then pausing. "Uh ... it's below freezing out. I, uh, need to put my things back on."
She padded toward him. "Allow me." A grin, and she slipped his tail-sock, back over his tail, and then picked up his ear-mittens and fitted them over his ears. "Mm."
A squeak and a whisker-twitch. "It feels restrictive."
A giggle. "Mm. Come on." Adelaide went back to the door, unlocking it, opening it, walking through.
The mouse followed.
Ketchy and Denali were on the other side of the open library space, here on the upper level. The first floor was adult reading. The basement was old bargain books for sale, as well as children's books.
"Your turn," Adelaide said, with a toothy, fang-showing grin, looking to Ketchy.
The squirrel gave a teasing smile, only saying, "He breed you decked out like that?"
Field, shyly squeaking, said, a bit defensively, "I gotta get things from the truck. I wasn't wearing all this."
"He wasn't," Adelaide insisted, giving Ketchy a wink.
Which made Field's ears get hot beneath their ear-mittens. He twitches and scurried to the door, out into the cold. Where you could currently see your breath. Fetching the punch ingredients from the back of the truck.
"I see you handed off Akira to Denali," Adelaide observed. "She too much for you?"
Denali, entering the conversation, insisted, "She was the model of a good girl. Weren't you? Mm?" The otter gave the mouse bat a gentle-tickle.
Akira, in her bright, little voice, went, " ... an' n'otters is ... inz th' waterz."
"Otters belong in water? Not libraries?" Denali said. "Well, don't bats belong in the sky? Mm? What are you doin' on the ground, then?"
"I'ma mouze-batz!"
"Daddy has her well trained," Adelaide said. "Field's very insistent that she's a mouse-bat, not a bat-mouse."
"Which one is she?" Denali asked.
"According to her birth certificate, she's a mouse-bat." For mixed-breeds, when it came to family lineage, the species of the father was always listed first on all official documents and such. "But," Adelaide said, "both daddy and the state can think what they want. We'll indulge them. But we know what you really are, don't we, Akira? My little bat-mouse? Mm?"
Chittery!
"Who wants some bugs?"
Ketchy, piping back up and leaving her chair, said, "I don't wanna see anyone eating bugs. Wait 'til I leave."
"Just cause I put flies in your soup ... "
" ... it wasn't funny," the squirrel insisted, trying not to laugh. It certainly hadn't been funny at the time. Even if it now tugged the corners of her muzzle into a semi-smile.
"Well, I enjoyed it," Adelaide insisted. Insects were, of course, a necessary part of any bat's diet.
"I wouldn't eat the soup after she did that," Ketchy explained to Denali. "So, she had the soup. Bugs and all. And I had her fruit salad and bread. We switched lunches."
Denali chuckled, also standing, beginning to move for the staff kitchen.
Ketchy casually followed, insisting to Adelaide that, "It's gonna smell like mouse in there. I know it. His scent's stronger than yours," she said, of Field.
"It's earthy," Adelaide replied, sighing. She loved that earthy mouse-scent. She loved putting her nose in his fur. As he loved doing to her. He would run his nose through her pelt, up and down body, and ...
" ... well, still."
"You really need to get bred, don't you" Adelaide told Ketchy. "You're getting a bit cranky."
"Cranky? Tense, maybe, but ... " She made a face. Then smiled. "You're such a tease. You're a cheeky thing. You know that?"
"I prefer 'toothy'."
"Mm. Well, I do need to 'get bred,' and I'm gonna enjoy it. Maybe," she said, "as much as you two enjoyed it."
"Are you saying Field and I were expressing ourselves," Adelaide said, using a 'polite' term, "rather loudly?"
"That's how I chose to put it." A wink. "Just sayin', you better not make fun of me when I come back out, cause I got ammo on you, too." A sniff. "You smell like you were soaked in sex. You better clean that off."
"When Field gets back, we're gonna pat ourselves with water from the bathroom sink."
"Alright. Well, me and Denali will have to do the same. They should really have put a shower in this place." A frown at that. Really, what were they thinking? No shower?
"I guess the builders must've thought the town library was actually for literature and checking out books. And serious culture and civilization. Not for breeding between the shelves."
"Eh, the minds of some furs, mm?" Ketchy went, giggle-squeaking.
"Darling?" Denali called, somewhat impatient, standing shirtless in the kitchen. Jeans still on. His rudder-tail steered about, and he looked to her. Waiting.
The squirrel, doing as squirrels do, scampered. To the kitchen, inside, locking the door behind her.
" ... whuz in th', whuz th' nozes?"
"Noises?" Adelaide asked Akira, holding her daughter in her arms. Bobbing her a bit.
"An' da an' ma. Youze in th' ... "
" ... we were just playing. Just playing," Adelaide said. Which was kind of the truth, wasn't it? Breeding certainly wasn't work! Indeed, it was a sort of play. And then she added, "You'll understand when you're older. Not that it's entirely understandable," she admitted, "even then. And not that I'm looking forward to you finding out, but ... " She dreaded the thought of dealing with Akira's first heat. They'd have to keep her home from school, watch her. Keep the males away. And hope that they'd done a good enough job instilling their morals and messages in her. So, that, when she was on her own and faced with temptation, she wouldn't give in to it. "Akira, promise me you're not gonna worry me sick? Alright? That you'll be okay?" There was a desperate tenderness in the bat's tone. "Please," she whispered.
Chittery!
A slight giggle-chitter. "Mm. Well, I suppose that's one way of putting it."
And, just then, Field returned with grocery bags in his paws, the punch-ingredients inside. And he padded over to his family. And they began to set up for the party before they went and wetted their fur free of too strong a scent.
"So, do you want another one?" Ketchy asked, back in the present, nibbling on another cinnamon-star cookie. They were rather tasty. She'd already had, like, three. They were small, though. It wasn't like they were big cookies.
"Mm? Another cookie?" Adelaide blinked a few times, coming out of her thoughts.
"Baby. Another baby."
"Oh." A pause. "Well, it's not about 'want'."
"What do you mean?" A tilt of the head, whiskers twitching a bit.
"Well, the obvious. I mean, Field wants it. I want it. We'd love to have another baby, but ... I mean, we never, ever planned on having just one. We don't want Akira to be an only child, to have no siblings to grow up with. You know? So ... at least one more. If the second one's a girl, I think we'd try again. To see if we could get a boy. But no more than three. If they're all girls, it doesn't matter. I'd love them all."
"Field wants a boy?"
"Actually, no. He wants all girls. I want a boy." A slight smile, leaning back in her seat. "I don't know why that is. Well ... " She trailed, leaning forward. " ... I think he's afraid, if we have a boy, the boy will turn out like he did. And make some of the mistakes he did."
"Because male mouses are effeminate ... "
A tiny nod, tilting her head a bit, breathing through the nose. "Yeah. He figures, I guess, that the girls won't fall into that waify pattern. That they'll be like me. He wants our children to be more like me. And less like him."
"But he's such a nice mouse. Why would ... " A shake of the head. " ... why would he even worry about that?"
"Same reason you worry about having children. Cause you doubt yourself. And, doubting yourself, you fear producing a replica of you ... and watching that replica feel the same pains you felt." A pause. Saying, lightly, "Psychology's supposed to be easy for bats. I guess I have a knack for it."
"Why didn't you ever try to be one, then? A psychologist?"
"Didn't have the money to go to college. Just had other things ... " She spaced out for a moment. " ... and, anyway, whether or not I can read minds or sense feelings and do all that, whether or not it comes naturally to me," Adelaide said, "that doesn't mean I want to make a living out of it. Using my telepathy to sift through the problems of countless strangers, day after day?" A pause. "It might pay great money, but the mental toll on myself ... sometimes, a bat can snap." She'd not witnessed this first-paw. But she'd heard about it happening. No, she preferred not to play that loosely with her mind.
"Well ... " The squirrel took a deep breath. " ... so, it's the money thing? I mean, about you and getting pregnant? That why you're not pregnant yet?"
She rubbed her own neck, nodding lightly. "If we had the money to support a bigger family, Field would have my egg fertilized the soonest chance he got. To put it simply." Another nod. "Yeah." A sigh. "But we can't, so ... "
" ... and you're on the pill, right? Birth control ... " The squirrel, herself, needed no birth control. Squirrels and otters couldn't reproduce. If they wanted a baby, they'd have to adopt. Or have Ketchy artificially inseminated. But that was a whole other matter, to think about another time.
" ... of course. I mean, we can't risk me not being on it. It's pretty foolproof." The bat shifted in her seat, her voice quiet. "We have trouble making ends meet, you know, as it is. But, yeah, if we had another baby right now? The hospital bills, doctor's appointments, immunizations, cost of extra food, clothes, and saving for future schooling, et cetera ... on top of the taxes and bills we already pay for our house and truck and stuff?" A bewildered shake of the head. "I just ... I hate that, you know? I mean, I hate that our reason is money. That we're not having another baby cause we don't have the money. That just ... " Another shake of the head. " ... seems mechanical. Seems twisted. I love Field so much. I wanna have his children. You know, it's ... I mean, did it used to be that way? Throughout history? Furs living in the wilderness? Did they even care? They loved each other, wanted a child, and they had one. Rich or not."
"And a lot of them grew up in poverty. And still do," Ketchy pointed out. "Look, you want the best possible environment for your children. You want to be able to care for and fully provide for them. I mean, there's nothing bad about that. That's being responsible. That's maturity on your and Field's part. I mean, if most furs had your maturity, we'd probably all be better off."
"Well, it's not like I want to be rich, you know. I'm not trying to be greedy. I don't mind ... you know, being modest and rural. I like that kind of life. Quiet, simple. Keeps you humble. But it would be really nice to be a bit more comfortable, financially." A pause. "As I'm sure you know." Ketchy and Denali were probably a little better off than Field and Adelaide, just because they didn't have a child. But, still, the squirrel and otter weren't exactly rich, either.
"Yeah." A pause. "I'm sure, eventually, you'll be able to, you know ... like, be able. Just wait a few years, maybe? Save as much as you can. Wait 'til Akira gets to be four or five. That way she can appreciate having a sibling. Right now, it'd probably be too much for you to handle. Two children in diapers."
"Yeah," Adelaide said, nodding. "I know." A friendly, sighing smile. "I know ... I mean, that's what we're gonna do, so ...I just worry, sometimes, that what if something goes wrong? Right now, we have the health and energy to handle children. We have time before us. I don't wanna be, like, sixty and raising a teenager, you know. I don't wanna be having children after thirty. I'm already twenty-three."
"Which gives you seven years to get knocked up two more times. I'm sure you'll fit it in," Ketchy said, grinning.
A giggle-chitter, looking away. "Mm." And then looking back to the squirrel. "True. Yeah. Well, I pray about it. And we do our best. To work and stuff, and ... "
" ... I wish," Ketchy said, gently interrupting, "that my faith was that strong. As strong as yours. And as strong as Field's."
"Who says it can't be?" Adelaide asked.
"I don't know." Ketchy's whiskers twitched a bit. "I'm just too serious. Too hard on myself. Like I said before." She turned a bit, checking on Denali. He was sitting with Field (who had Akira in his lap) at another table. They were chatting with Azure and Assumpta, as well as Herkimer and Opal. The squirrel sighed, looking back to Adelaide. "I just wanna be so good for him," she said, of her husband, "and he tells me that I am. He tells me I could never disappoint him. But I'm constantly afraid that I'm going to, somehow."
"Well, your history, like we talked about, you know: before you married him, you had lots of relationships with, uh ... well, guys who didn't really care about you, emotionally. You gave them everything, and they were either afraid or hesitant to give the same in return. You became used to never being able to please them. To never being fulfilled. So, even though you've been married to Denali for two years, now," Adelaide said, "you still carry that over. That whole thing. I mean, Field was that way. When I first hooked up with him? I mean, you know how he was. And he's a lot better, now. He's so much better ... it just takes time," Adelaide confided.
"How much time? I mean, why is it taking me so long to ... you know, to get over my flaws? To calm down?"
Adelaide slid her paws across the table. "We develop differently. Different paces. I really don't know what else to say to that. Just ... "
" ... what?"
" ... you want stronger faith?"
A nod. Ketchy, of course, was a Christian. And went to the same, little church that Field and Adelaide went to. She believed. She prayed. But, sometimes, she felt she was doing something wrong.
"You try too hard," Adelaide whispered.
"What?" The squirrel bit her lip, not quite understanding.
"You try way too hard to see things. You try way too hard," the bat continued, "to see God, to repent for your sins, to ... everything. You overcompensate for everything. Because of your aforementioned past, or because you're a rodent. I mean, I know how rodents can be. Like I said, you're extremely emotional, extremely vulnerable. Needy." A pause, stating, "It's been my experience that, in their neediness, a rodent will do just about anything to be needed in return. And, sometimes, the quest becomes obsessive."
Ketchy let out a breath, but didn't say anything. There wasn't much to say. Adelaide was pretty much right.
"Denali needs you. The problem is: you try too hard to make him need you. When you don't need," the bat stressed, "to even try. He needs you because he loves you, and he loves you because you are," she said, "you. You don't need to do anything but be you ... to make him love you." A pause. "It's like the star. The star of Christmas, the one God put in the sky, so bright, so glorious ... to lead the way to the newborn King? It was there. Seen from countries away. Hundreds, thousands of miles away. The world away. And wise furs followed it. They did back then. And they do so today. And, sometimes, the journey to reach that star ... it takes a while. But, on the way, you grow and adapt. Because faith is worthless if it can't stand up to fire, and it can only stand up to fire if it's repeatedly tested."
Ketchy listened quietly.
"You're trying too hard to see the star, be it salvation, love, whatever. You try too hard to see the stars. Just take a breath, just look up ... and see it. See Him. And know that you don't have to be perfect or super-furry to get to Him. To get there. You just have to be patient. And receptive. You have to put yourself in God's paws. At His mercy, His grace. And trust Him. Faith is trust. I mean, Field worries all the time. As do you. I mean, I'm no rodent, but I have my moments of worry every day. But meaning, purpose ... fulfillment. All those things through Christ."
"I know," the squirrel whispered, sighing softly, closing her eyes.
"I love you as a friend. You know that," Adelaide said, squeezing Ketchy's paws.
A sniffle, and a quiet nod.
"Alright?" the bat breathed, smiling warmly. "I'll help you. I'm here. Just remember: brighter visions beam afar." A small pause. "Just like the Christmas star."
The squirrel opened her eyes, unable to keep the smile from melting to her muzzle. "Thanks," she mouthed, silently, very grateful. But not able to word such a feeling. Just showing the bat through the look they exchanged. And the return squeeze of her paws.
"You're welcome," Adelaide mouthed back. "Now," she said, sitting up straighter, giving a chitter. "I ran out of cookies and punch. I think I need some more. And," she said, "I think there are seats at Field and Denali's table."
A giggle-squeak as they both stood. The squirrel saying, "You're not gonna let me go on a sugar high, are you? I don't wanna go on a sugar high ... " Rodents couldn't handle too much sugar. It made them manic with energy and twitches, more so than usual, even. And, then, afterwards, there was a depressing 'crash' of emotion. It wasn't a fun experience. Well, it was for a time, at least. But the end result wasn't something most rodents enjoyed. The problem was that most rodents didn't plan on sugar highs. They just sort of lost track of what they were eating, or couldn't stop themselves, and one thing led to another.
" ... I've been keeping track of everything you've sipped or nibbled. I'll stop you when you're nearing your limit. Denali's keeping an eye on Field for me, I trust?"
"He said he would."
And, so, they went to the table full of treats, talking brightly, the squirrel's tail very animated, and the bat with a constant, mirthful show of fangs. The air outside rather cold and nippy. But the air in here very inviting, indeed.