{"sf1_id":4454,"sf2_id":"Welwpk1x","title":"After Hours","author":"Squirrel","words":3775,"posted_at":"2005-01-08T23:03:00.000Z","tags":["Anal","Feline","Food","M/M","Mouse","Oral","Shower"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/4454-after-hours","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Welwpk1x","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/3e/ff/3eff1062-b149-4eb7-9923-739730c00593","description":"","content":"He was carrying some kind of sauce. A big pan of sauce, which was red-orange in  \ncolor. Spicy. The kind you put on meat. And the mouse, Deering, wrinkled his  \nnose as he shuffled back into the kitchen. He didn't like the smell of this  \nstuff. Too strong. With a hint of barbeque. Unpleasant to the mouse, who rarely  \nate any kind of meat. But it needed to be stored in the walk-in refrigerator.  \nFor tomorrow. It was evening, an hour after the cafeteria (where he worked, of  \ncourse) had closed. And it was just him and one other student. They were on  \nclosing duty tonight. Luck of the draw. It was all so standard, so ... well,  \nboring, really. Though he hesitated to call it that. Saying that one was bored  \nor that any given task was boring was ... well, an admission of defeat. Or maybe  \nit was just lazy. He didn't know.  \n  \nHe should've asked for help. It was a big pan, a lot of sauce. But Deering was  \nan independent creature. Even in the most dire of circumstances, he would keep  \nhis mouth shut, rather than ask for assistance. He reached the door to the  \nwalk-in, and wondered how he would open the door, which was heavy. Made of  \nmetal. Both his paws were occupied with holding the pan (which was full,  \nsloshing, and slipping in his grasp). He shook his head. Of course. His tail. He  \nsighed, yanking open the door with his tail, his thin, long tail.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Some days, Deering thought he might be going insane. Or that he already had.  \nSome days, he didn't care. This was one of those days. He didn't feel like a  \nflesh and blood mouse, with warm fur and limbs, with a heart. A natural,  \npassionate creature. No, he felt mechanical. Like a zombie. Like clockwork. In  \nthis city, this college town. He didn't trust technology. Not entirely. Not like  \nother creatures did. He was from the countryside. A rural mouse. A farm mouse.  \nAnd he felt displaced here. Trapped. Buildings. Roads. Cars. No room to pace, to  \nbreathe. He felt ...  \n  \nHis lengthy, looping thoughts were dashed, his mind reeling, as he bumped into  \nsome boxes. The spicy sauce sloshed over the edges of the pan, spilled onto him,  \nand he cursed quietly. Flushing. Not all the sauce had spilled, but ... too much.  \nAnd onto him. He looked about, anxious. He would have to clean it up. And,  \nanyway, he couldn't tolerate messes. He slipped out of the walk-in, snatched  \nsome small towels ... and wiped up what he'd spilled. But he, himself, was still  \ncovered in it. And was left holding the towels. He shivered at the spicy smell.  \nStepped out of the walk-in (again), and ...  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"You should've asked for help.\" Max. The other student. He was a cat. Gray and  \nblack colored. Silver. Rich fur. A shorthair.  \n  \n\"I didn't know where you were,\" Deering lied. He had. Of course he had. He had  \nhis large mouse ears, like little satellite dishes on his head.  \n  \n\"Get it cleaned up?\"  \n  \n\"What?\"  \n  \n\"The sauce.\"  \n  \n\"Oh. Yes.\" Deering nodded. Max was taller, bigger. And it wasn't like cats and  \nmice were enemies anymore, but ... instinct was instinct. Deering didn't trust  \ncats. And this one ... always had this scent about him, even now. And it mixed  \nwith the smell of the sauce, and the mouse, for the life of him, couldn't figure  \nout what it was ...  \n  \n\"Is it in your fur?\"  \n  \n\"What?\"  \n  \n\"The sauce,\" Max repeated. Eying the mouse. He licked his lips.  \n  \nDeering saw that. Was it because the cat's lips were dry, or because Deering was  \ncovered in sauce?  \n  \n\"Hmm?\"  \n  \n\"Oh,\" went Deering. \"Yes, it is ... unfortunately, it's,\" he said, \"On my fur.\"  \n  \n\"Well, give me the towels.\"  \n  \nDeering did as told.  \n  \n\"I'll put them in the hamper. It's in the bathroom in the maintenance hall. You  \ncan put those clothes ... in the hamper, too,\" said Max. Referring to the mouse's  \nmessy work clothes. The bathroom happened to be in the locker room.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Okay,\" said the mouse, the sauce making him nauseous. Or maybe he was getting  \nsick. He didn't know. I'm not a hypochondriac, he told himself, if that's what  \nyou're thinking. It's not, he replied. To himself.  \n  \n\"You okay?\" the cat asked. Squinting. Eyes squinted, little slits. They looked  \nso dangerous, those eyes.  \n  \n\"Yes,\" the mouse replied. \"Uh ... yes.\"  \n  \n\"Good. We're all done, then,\" Max said, business-like. \"I can lock up. I have  \nthe key.\"  \n  \n\"I know.\" Deering had deferred to key to him. He hadn't wanted the  \nresponsibility.  \n  \n\"Alright.\"  \n  \n\"Okay,\" said Deering, swallowing. That scent ...  \n  \nThey turned off the lights, went through the back door (which led to the empty  \nmaintenance hall), and while the cat locked up, Deering went to the locker room.  \nSighing once inside. The sigh seemed to echo. It seemed to unsettle dust.  \n  \nMax came in. Brushing past the mouse, on his way to his own locker. For his own  \nchange of clothes. He was purring.  \n  \nDeering opened his locker. An old, rusty locker, and as his paws clutched at and  \ntook out his things, he felt a warm breath ... and spun.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"You okay?\" The cat was there. Too close.  \n  \n\"Yes,\" he said, with more force than intended. \"I wish you would stop asking me  \nthat.\"  \n  \n\"I hope you're not scared of me.\"  \n  \n\"What?\"  \n  \n\"I hope you're not scared of me,\" Max repeated. Genuine.  \n  \n\"I'm not.\"  \n  \nThe cat squinted. \"You never talk to me. When we're working.\"  \n  \n\"I don't talk to anyone,\" Deering said seriously.  \n  \n\"I know.\"  \n  \nPause.  \n  \n\"You should try it,\" Max continued.  \n  \n\"Talking?\"  \n  \n\"Yes.\"  \n  \n\"I'm talking now. That's my fill.\"  \n  \n\"For the day?\"  \n  \n\"The week.\"  \n  \n\"I see.\"  \n  \n\"I need to, uh,\" said the mouse, taking a breath. \"Change.\" That scent ...  \n  \nMax was still purring. \"There's a shower back there. An open shower stall.\"  \n  \n\"Um ... \"  \n  \n\"You should take a shower. Clean off that sauce.\"  \n  \n\"Well ... \"  \n  \n\"So you don't have to walk all the way back to your room ... smelling like that.\"  \n  \n\"Well, I can wait.\"  \n  \n\"Can you?\"  \n  \n\"Yes.\"  \n  \n\"Tell me ... are you a patient mouse?\"  \n  \n\"Look, can I ... anyway, why do you care?\"  \n  \n\"If you don't want a shower ... \"  \n  \n\"I really need to get going.\"  \n  \n\" ... I can lick you clean,\" Max finished.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; The mouse was taken aback. A sudden surge of adrenaline and realization. This  \ncat, in his way, had been ... or was, rather ... hitting on me, the mouse thought.  \nComing on to me, or ... and that scent. Realization again dawned on him. That  \nscent. It was arousal.  \n  \nThe cat waited for an answer, his tail moving like a hypnotizing snake.  \n  \nThe mouse swallowed, throat dry. He'd never faced a situation like this, and  \ncertainly had never taken a sexual invitation. And had never given one out. He  \nwasn't a risk-taker. Wasn't bold. And yet ... the thought, the sudden, carnal  \nthought of ... of having sex with Max, a basic stranger, a cat ... of being  \nphysically dominated by this cat, here, in this locker room, at night ... a flood  \nof strong images, emotions ... pelted the mouse. His breath became shallow. He was  \nscared. He trembled. He didn't know what to say. His eyes flickered to the door,  \nthe way out. And yet ... a darker side of him begged him to submit, to ...  \n  \nMax had apparently reached the limits of his patience. For he maneuvered  \nDeering against the row of lockers, putting the mouse's exposed belly to the  \nmetal, undressing him. Ending any deliberation. Revealing all of the mouse's  \nlight-brown fur, his furry, rodent form. His tail. His everything.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; The mouse trembled, shivered, as the cat's paws smoothly flowed up and down his  \nsides.  \n  \n\"Don't shake,\" Max told him, in his silky, masculine voice, his feline voice.  \nWith a purr. And with surprising gentleness, whispered into Deering's sensitive  \near, \"I'll take care of you, okay?\"  \n  \n\"Oh,\" Deering whispered. He practically melted on the spot. That voice. In his  \near. That purr. That promise.  \n  \nThe cat grinned at the mouse's emotional state, wriggling out of his own  \nclothes. And Deering, paws on the lockers, still leaning against them, let out a  \nlittle gasp as the cat's rough tongue went on a voyage up his back. Licking  \nthrough his fur, up the outline of the mouse's spine.  \n  \n\"Where's the sauce?\" Max demanded, sniffing, purring.  \n  \nThe mouse swallowed. \"My paws. My arms. My ... \"  \n  \nMax turned the mouse around. So that they faced each other. And he licked.  \nDescended a bit. Licked the mouse's paws, his arms, up through his fur, to his  \nchest. Licking, lapping. Warm. Wet. Raspy. Stirring the mouse's fur. Deering's  \nbreath was shaky, spiked with arousal, anticipation. Adrenaline. The cat licked  \nhis body as if he were a living lollipop.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"I like how you taste,\" Max breathed, licking.  \n  \n\"Thank you,\" Deering said, barely audible.  \n  \n\"You taste ... good. A sugared mouse. Do you like sugar?\"  \n  \n\"I guess,\" Deering breathed. Heart hammering.  \n  \n\"You're sweet.\"  \n  \nThe mouse exhaled at the intimacy. The tongue. He inhaled. Licked his own lips  \ndry as the cat's lips mouthed through his fur.  \n  \n\"Like a strawberry. When you dip it in sugar.\"  \n  \nDeering let out another breath. The cat still licking him. Purring.  \n  \n\"I guess that would make you a mouse-berry,\" the cat said, smiling.  \n  \nExhale. Swallow. \"Uh-huh.\"  \n  \n\"My tongue's starting to dry out.\"  \n  \nThe mouse met the cat's eyes. He had stopped licking.  \n  \n\"There's a shower back there,\" Max said.  \n  \n\"I know,\" Deering whispered.  \n  \nThe cat grinned. Showing his teeth. \"You know cats aren't entirely fond of ...  \nwater,\" he said.  \n  \n\"Yeah.\"  \n  \n\"It makes us moody.\"  \n  \n\"Just ... just ... can we go?\" Deering managed, unable to take the teasing. He felt  \nslightly intoxicated.  \n  \n\"I like that. I like to hear you beg.\"  \n  \n\"I'll take a shower with you,\" Deering continued. \"I'll ... \"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"You're being too proper.\"  \n  \n\"What?\"  \n  \n\"You want to mate me, or you want me to mate you. Wet. Screaming. Yes?\"  \n  \n\"Um ... \" He took a huge breath. Fighing his worries. And nodded.  \n  \n\"Show it, though. Be raw. Be an animal. Lure me.\" The cat's eyes suddenly  \nseemed to glow. Now that he'd tasted his prey ... he was on fire. Deering felt a  \nspike of fear, wondering ... wondering if he was in over his head. If he would  \nregret this.  \n  \nThe cat waited, tail still moving like a snake.  \n  \nThe mouse swallowed, coy, nimble. And lowered to all fours. Began to crawl  \ntoward the back, toward the shower. Raising his tail. As his paws and paw-pads  \nshuffled on the dusty, hard floor, his tail-hole was clearly visible. And his  \nsack ... swinging, loose but being drawn upward as his member poked out of its  \nsheath, got firmer ... swinging between his legs. His fur. His hips. His paws. A  \nyoung, slender rodent. Submissive. Crawling away. Trembling.  \n  \nThe cat watched, licking his lips. Nodding. Breathing. Breathing. \"Oh, that's  \nit,\" he whispered. \"That's it.\" His eyes watched the mouse. His prey, his  \ndelicious, beautiful prey. He still had the taste of mouse ... on his tongue. And,  \nsquinting, the cat tensed. Coiled. Pounced.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; The mouse squealed, squeaked in fear and ... and whatever else, as the cat landed  \non him, flattening him, stealing his breath. They skidded across the floor,  \nright up to the shower stall. A tangle of fur and limbs.  \n  \nMax picked Deering up, nudging him inside the open-air stall. If the janitorial  \nstaff, if anyone came into the locker room ... they would be spotted in a second.  \nDoing what they were about to do.  \n  \n\"Turn on the water,\" Max instructed.  \n  \nDeering's paws shook as he did so, fumbling with the knobs. Sending a stream of  \nwarm water into them. Pelting them. Their fur became matted, drenched.  \n  \n\"Oh, my mouse. My darling mouse,\" the cat breathed, voice betraying a relief. A  \nsighing relief. He wrapped his arms and paws around Deering. \"Oh, I've wanted  \nyou ... all semester long.\"  \n  \n\"I didn't know,\" said Deering meekly, shivering, squinting as water ran down  \nhis face.  \n  \n\"Oh,\" the cat breathed, nipping at Deering's neck. Deering tilted his head,  \nexhaling. Ears picking up the running water, the sound, as it hit fur and floor.  \nMax continued, saying, \"Let me sow my seed in you. Let's make love like the  \nanimals we are. You and me. Let me,\" he whispered into the mouse's ear, \"Give  \nyou chills.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Oh, wow,\" Deering breathed, further intoxicated by the touches, the words.  \nEverything. Feeling hot feline breath in his ear.  \n  \nThe cat's cock ran through the soft fur on Deering's rump.  \n  \nDeering let out a breath.  \n  \n\"You look so ... vulnerable,\" the cat told him, \"When you're wet. So cute.\"  \n  \nThe mouse exhaled again. Flushed.  \n  \nThe cat's cock, guided by his hips, traced down the mouse's rump. Deering  \nobediently moved his long, thin tail out of the way, wrapping it around the  \ncat's waist. As an anchor. And the mouse, feeling the cat start to poke at him,  \nraised to the tips of his foot-paws, paws and arms on the walls of the stall.  \nWater, warm and wet, running down everything. Every motion feeling like liquid.  \n  \nThe cat's paws wrapped around and hugged the mouse as his hips shoved up, his  \ncock splitting Deering's tail-hole. Sliding. Digging. To the hilt. And stopping.  \n  \n\"Oh,\" gasped the mouse, hanging his head. Speared to the cat. Unable to close  \nhis mouth. He spat out water with each breath.  \n  \nAnd then the cat, tasting finality, knowing there was no going back, began to  \nmotor into the mouse. Up. Down. Up. Pause. Down. Up, down. In. Out. Sliding  \nthrough that tail-hole, into the mouse's rump. Making himself at home. Bumping  \nto his prostate.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Deering rested his cheek against the wall. Squeaking. Nose and whiskers  \ntwitching, water droplets dripping from his whisker-tips. His ears flushed warm.  \nHe heard Max purring. Like a tiger.  \n  \nAnd like a tiger, the cat drove into the mouse. Held to the mouse, humped the  \nmouse. Paws caressing the mouse's cock, giving it a squeeze each time his hips  \nthrust up and in.  \n  \nDeering panted, soaked. Helpless.  \n  \n\"The floor,\" the cat gasped. \"Let's ... oh ... the floor.\"  \n  \nDeering nodded with a whimper.  \n  \nThey managed to lower, together, to the wet, puddle-filled floor. On all fours,  \nDeering let out a huge breath. Squeaked. The cat, on all fours, had a better  \nangle at him. Was able to push deeper. He crawled closer onto him, draped over  \nhim. Pounding. Humping. Humping.  \n  \nDeering squeaked out, nose and whiskers twitching weakly. Chest heaving beneath  \nthe weight and action of the cat.  \n  \nThe water pelted, pelted them still. Drenched them. Their fur matted.  \n  \nMax squeezed Deering's cock. Squeezed. Released. And then began to paw him off.  \n  \nDeering's knees buckled. He squeaked weakly.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; The cat, claws extended, teeth showing, pounded into the mouse.  \n  \nDeering yelped.  \n  \nMax roared. Pounding again.  \n  \nAnd the mouse felt the spasms, the spurts. Felt a warm flood. Heard the cat  \nroar, growl. And then felt himself, wet, weak, squeak like a dying, broken  \nalarm. As a warm wave swept him. He shuddered and shivered as his own seed shot  \nout. White. Wet. To the puddles on the floor.  \n  \nAnd when the cat had pulled out of him, he pulled the mouse up, leaned him back  \nagainst the wall of the shower, and kissed him. Hard. Taking his breath away.  \nPawing at him. Deering squirmed for breath, pawing back, moaning, tail still  \nwrapped around Max's waist.  \n  \nThe cat pulled back and gasped. They soaked for a minute more, in each other's  \narms. Allowing the warm water to run down their bodies. Deering eventually  \nmanaged to turn off the water, and they staggered back out to the locker area ...  \nand sank to the floor. Wet mouse and wet cat. Recovering.  \n  \n\"Oh,\" Deering breathed. \"Oh.\" He whimpered.  \n  \nThe cat grinned at him. Purring louder than before.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Max,\" Deering whispered, drops dripping from his whisker-tips. He stared  \nblankly at the floor.  \n  \n\"Yes?\"  \n  \nThe words got stuck. The mouse swallowed, blinked, and looked to the cat.  \nBlushing beneath his fur, sitting there, bare, with his unexpected partner ... he  \nreached out for one of the cat's paws. Held it. Brought it to his lips. And  \nkissed it, holding his lips there, and then letting go.  \n  \nThe cat sighed and tilted his head. Smiling warmly. And then his eyes darted,  \nand he grinned. \"I still have the key.\"  \n  \n\"What?\"  \n  \n\"To the cafeteria.\"  \n  \nThe mouse was confused. And then realized ...  \n  \n  \nTen minutes later, Deering was on his back, on the floor of the store-room,  \nsqueaking and crying out like a jungle animal, his cries echoing in the small  \nspace. Bouncing off pots of pans and boxes. Paws sweating, ears burning. Tail  \nand whiskers twitching. Furry chest heaving. Feeling flushed, faint ... seeped  \nwith pleasure, and still damp from the shower. He was on his back on the floor,  \nand Max was slurping and sucking his buttered cock, the mouse having rubbed  \nbutter into his fur and on his mouse-hood. And, weakly lying there, through  \nsquinted eyes, the mouse could see strawberry jam dripping, dripping from the  \ntip of the cat's own cock, and from his furry sack, waiting to be eaten, licked,  \nsucked ...  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Right now, for the first time in a long time (or maybe ever), Deering felt  \nreal. Like a throbbing, pulsing fur and blood mouse. A living, breathing  \ncreature with wants and needs. Feeling totally alive. Feeling ...  \n  \n\"OH, MAX!\"  \n  \n  \nTwenty minutes after, they were in the shower again.  \n  \nThe mouse shoved against the hard, wet wall, weak. Soaked and dripping.  \nBleary-eyed. Gaping and squeaking as the cat drove into him. Driving. Driving.  \nDeering spat out water, breathing shaky. Forced to the tips of his aching  \nfoot-paws every time the cat humped him. The mouse whimpered, eyes closed. And  \nthe cat growled and purred.  \n  \n  \n  \nAnother twenty minutes. They were back in the store room. The cat straddled  \nDeering's heaving, furry chest. He had lathered the mouse's ears with whipped  \ncream. Rough tongue proceeding to lap it, lick it off. The mouse's  \nultra-sensitive ears burned at the activity. Burned. His fur flooded with heat.  \nPaws tingling. He could only writhe and spasm as the cat ignored his whispered,  \nrepeated pleas to stop. That his ears were too sensitive. The pleasure so severe  \n... that it almost hurt.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Oh ... oh, please,\" he begged the cat, moaning. Eyes watering shut. Squeaking.  \n  \n\"Almost done,\" Max assured, paws rubbing the mouse's chest as he licked. \"Hold  \non, baby. Hold on,\" he whispered with panting, hot breath, paws stroking through  \nDeering's fur.  \n  \n\"Oh, please,\" the mouse whimpered, clutching at the cat's furry hips. Ears  \nfeeling they were on fire. Aflame. The flush running through his entire body.  \nSweating beneath the fur. He could barely breath. Sharp jolts of pleasure caused  \nhim to squirm, and the too-sensitive pain behind it ... caused him to whimper,  \nyelp out.  \n  \nSeeing he had pushed the mouse to his breaking point (again), had pleasured him  \nto his limit, the cat took a wanting breath, descending upon Deering's  \nmouse-hood. Wanting his treat. His reward. And he got it. Sighing through the  \nnose. And it tasted like strawberry jam. He sighed. And swallowed. And purred  \nagain.  \n  \n  \nThey washed once more. The cat mated him mouse. Once more. Deering could do  \nnothing to stop him, as the cat banged him in the shower. Again. As the cat  \nroared, his blood hot, body strong. Dominant. As the cat unloaded into the  \nmouse. Deering, wet and trembling, unable to form any rational thoughts, took  \nit. Took it all. Unable to speak. He had not the amazing stamina of the cat. He  \nwas helpless, completely helpless. Drained. Squeaking airily at the throbs of  \npleasure that Max brought on. Nose and whiskers weakly twitching.  \nTwitch-twitching. And drooling from the mouth, being rained on by the water from  \nthe shower.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp;  \nAfter the shower, they wound up in the cat's room. In the cat's bed. Max had  \neasily carried the smaller, lighter mouse there. Deering half-asleep. Tired out.  \nHis arms and paws holding around the cat's neck. Nobody had seen them on their  \nway back, which was for the better. The cat's room was three stories up from the  \ncafeteria, a long walk when they were both wet and smelling of each other, and  \nwhen the cat was carrying the mouse. Neither wished to have to explain it to  \npassers-by.  \n  \nAs soon as the cat had locked his door and undressed the mouse, giving him a  \njack-rabbit plush (as Deering had, in an airy, sleepy whisper, confessed to the  \ncat that he couldn't sleep without a plush) Deering had crawled, eyes closed,  \ninto Max's bed. He had sighed. A huge, warm sigh, sniffing the sheets. The  \npillows. They smelled of Max. And he curled into the pillows, in a ball, tail  \nwrapped around him. Asleep in seconds. Hugging the rabbit plush to his chest,  \npaws clutching it. Sighing.  \n  \nMax smiled, kneeling beside the bed, watching his mouse ... watching him sleep.  \nRest. There was something so very satisfying about watching him do that.  \nWatching him sleep. How his nose wriggled, how his whiskers twitched. How his  \nchest rose and fell. How his eyes darted beneath his eyelids in his dreams.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Max smiled warmly. Sighing. And he let his clothes slip off, flipped off the  \nlights, and crawled into his bed. As he crawled over to the other side of the  \nmouse, Deering, in his sleep, lifted his head and sniffed. Sniffed. Nose and  \nwhiskers twitching. A very rodent-like impulse. His paws opened and closed on  \nthe plush. His ears swiveled.  \n  \nMax rested his nose on Deering's for a second. The mouse's cold nose  \ntwitch-twitched, flared, and caught and identified Max's scent. And doing so,  \nthe mouse's body relaxed. The tension left. He settled back down, snuggling up  \nagainst the cat's chest, curling up against him, against his sturdy middle.  \nWhich offered strength, protection. From where his ears could hear the cat's  \nsteady heartbeat.  \n  \nMax kissed Deering's cheek. And laid with him. It was well after hours. Their  \nyoung, twilight affair, he knew, would live until morning. It would continue.  \nGrow.  \n  \nDeering burrowed further into the sheets, and further against the cat's chest  \nand fur. The cat held him there.  \n  \nThe two furry souls, squeaky-clean from their last washing, sighed. And slept  \nin the dark. Moonlight and street-lights filtering, softly, through the window.  \nCasting over them like a blanket.  \n  \n  \n\n"}