{"sf1_id":4455,"sf2_id":"Oe5Zq8mM","title":"Melting Ice","author":"Squirrel","words":2685,"posted_at":"2005-01-08T23:06:00.000Z","tags":["M/F","Mouse","Romance","Vaginal"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/4455-melting-ice","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/Oe5Zq8mM","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=4455\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"\"My power's out.\" She was at his door, standing outside. Shivering. And holding  \nher tail in her paws.  \n  \n\"So's mine.\"  \n  \n\"Oh.\" She shrugged. \"I guess it would be.\"  \n  \nPause.  \n  \nShe shifted lightly on her foot-paws. \"Because there's an ice storm,\" she  \nadded. The countryside glistened in the dimness behind her. The sky was grey.  \n  \n\"I know. I have windows.\" He tilted his head, could see the brown tree branches  \nheavy with white ice. Could see ... ice. Everywhere. Ice. And he could see her  \nbreath.  \n  \n\"Your windows,\" she remarked, as way of noticing, \"Are cleaner than mine.\"  \n  \n\"I'm fastidious.\"  \n  \n\"I know.\" She smiled, a bit shyly, as her nose was blushing pink. Or was that  \nfrom the chill? \"Are you gonna invite me in?\"  \n  \n\"Oh. Yes.\" He stepped aside.  \n  \nShe shuffled in, twitching. Sighing. \"It's like it's dead out there. Or ... you  \nknow, like ... frozen.\" She laughed slightly. \"Which would make sense.\"  \n  \n\"No, I know what you mean.\"  \n  \nShe nodded, looking around. \"It's warm in here.\" Pause. \"I hope you don't mind  \nme coming over, but ... \" She trailed.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"I don't mind,\" he whispered sincerely. His turn to be shy.  \n  \nShe smiled at him, tilted her head. \"You're sweet.\"  \n  \nHe blushed beneath his fur. He wasn't good at taking compliments. He never knew  \nhow to handle them.  \n  \n\"You have candles going,\" she said.  \n  \nHe nodded. \"Because the lights are out.\"  \n  \nShe smiled. \"Logically.\"  \n  \n\"Well ... \"  \n  \n\"I think an ice storm like this ... it can be ... \"  \n  \n\"What?\"  \n  \n\"Romantic? Don't you think?\"  \n  \n\"I suppose.\"  \n  \n\"At the very least, it's humbling.\" Pause. \"I don't really trust technology.  \nYou know that.\"  \n  \nHe did.  \n  \n\"I hope I'm not bothering you,\" she said again.  \n  \n\"You're not.\"  \n  \n\"You seem uncomfortable.\"  \n  \n\"No.\"  \n  \nShe waited.  \n  \n\"Just that ... I wasn't expecting you.\"  \n  \n\"Don't you like surprises?\" she smiled.  \n  \n\"Not really.\"  \n  \n\"You don't like things you can't control,\" she guessed.  \n  \n\"It's not that.\"  \n  \n\"What, then?\"  \n  \nHe shrugged, trying to pin-point an answer. \"I like order. Structure. Surprises  \nhave neither. They're ... random.\"  \n  \n\"Well, this ice storm must be killing you, then. The weather's random.\"  \n  \n\"Well, that's different.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Is it?\" she pressed.  \n  \nHe nodded. Serious. \"Nature is exempt from formality.\"  \n  \n\"Why's that?\"  \n  \n\"It just ... is,\" was all he could say.  \n  \n\"Sounds to me,\" she began.  \n  \n\"Yes?\"  \n  \n\"Sounds to me like you've got yourself spinning your own webs. I think,\" she  \nsaid, \"You like to make your own complications. Because you prefer them to the  \nones life randomly gives you.\"  \n  \n\"Yeah?\" he went, a bit uncomfortable with the way this conversation was going.  \n  \n\"I think you're a very complicated mouse. More so than most. I think ... you  \ndon't often realize that.\"  \n  \n\"Realize what?\" he whispered.  \n  \n\"How special you are,\" she whispered back. \"How unique.\"  \n  \n\"Well, I'm not,\" he insisted.  \n  \n\"Sometimes, I can figure you out,\" she said, ignoring his remark. \"Other times  \n... not so much.\"  \n  \nHe just shrugged.  \n  \n\"You're sweet.\"  \n  \n\"You already told me that,\" he said. Bashful.  \n  \n\"Yeah?\"  \n  \nHe nodded.  \n  \n\"Don't you mind hearing it again?\"  \n  \n\"I don't know,\" he said.  \n  \n\"You're mumbling.\"  \n  \n\"Yeah,\" he went.  \n  \nThey were both still standing.  \n  \n\"Would you like something to eat?\" he offered.  \n  \n\"Well ... \"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Or drink?\"  \n  \n\"Well, what do you have?\"  \n  \n\"Um ... well, I can't really cook anything. What with the power out.\" Pause.  \n\"Bread and butter? Water?\"  \n  \n\"Sounds good.\"  \n  \n\"Alright.\"  \n  \nPause.  \n  \n\"I'll go get the, uh, stuff,\" he said.  \n  \n\"I'll wait on the couch. Or do you need my help?\"  \n  \n\"I can get it.\"  \n  \nShe nodded, took a breath. Sat down. Her thin tail draping, hanging up and over  \nthe top of the back of the couch.  \n  \nHe came back, a minute later, with some slices of French bread. Buttered on one  \nside. And two glasses of water. No ice.  \n  \n\"I can get you some ice from outside, if you want,\" he told her. \"For your  \nwater.\"  \n  \nShe laughed.  \n  \nHe smiled shyly, sitting down beside her. There was a coffee table in front of  \nthe couch, where they sat their plates and cups. And where two candles were  \nburning. Flickering, flapping flames like hypnotizing snakes, reaching up,  \ntrailing smoke from their bright tops.  \n  \n\"Who made this bread?\" she wondered, nibbling.  \n  \n\"Well, I didn't. I mean, I can cook, but not ... not that good.\"  \n  \n\"Well, I know,\" she teased.  \n  \n\"It was the grey squirrel. At the edge of the forest. She has that pastry shop.  \nShe makes breads.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; She nodded. \"Mm. I know the one.\"  \n  \nSilence. Bits of ice could be heard hitting the roof, the windows. Ice  \ncreaking, groaning. All the while, more ice forming. Everything crystal.  \n  \n\"It's snowing now,\" she noticed. \"A bit.\"  \n  \nHe nodded, half-finished with his bread.  \n  \n\"I like this.\"  \n  \n\"Hmm?\" He looked to her, mouth full.  \n  \n\"Us. This.\" She shrugged. \"And I like your place. Everything ... it radiates with  \ncare.\"  \n  \nHe smiled, flushed.  \n  \n\"You must spend a lot of time organizing all of this.\" She looked around the  \ndim, dandle-lit room. It was very clean, and organized with trinkets, toys ... on  \ntables, little desks. There were some plants, too.  \n  \n\"I do,\" was all he said. And then, \"It helps me relax.\" It was the only thing  \nthat helped him relax. Organizing, cleaning things. He always had trouble  \nsleeping at night. Sometimes, he cleaned his house in the dead of morning.  \nSometimes.  \n  \n\"You okay?\" she wondered.  \n  \n\"Hmm?\"  \n  \n\"You seemed ... lost there, for a moment.\"  \n  \nHe shrugged.  \n  \nShe put her bread down. Took a drink of water. Put the water down, too. Her  \ngaze flickered to the window. Which was frosted. Iced. \"So grey,\" she whispered.  \n\"The world.\"  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; \"Yeah,\" he whispered, nodding lightly. Staring at the coffee table.  \n  \nPause.  \n  \nShe turned to him. Suddenly serious. With a sudden tension.  \n  \nHis nose and whiskers twitched. Nervous.  \n  \nShe kissed his nose, softly.  \n  \nHe twitched.  \n  \nShe kissed his nose again.  \n  \nHe tilted his head.  \n  \nShe kissed his cheek. Lips.  \n  \nHis nose and whiskers continued to twitch. He breathed out.  \n  \nShe breathed in, paws moving to his chest. Pushing him back, slowly, to the  \ncouch cushions. Leaning on top of him.  \n  \nHe took in another, deeper breath.  \n  \n\"You don't mind?\" she whispered into his large, sensitive ears, her voice  \ntrailing. A bit coy. So soft. Wanting for permission.  \n  \nDespite any hesitations, he could only whisper back, \"No.\"  \n  \nShe nuzzled his nose.  \n  \n\"Okay,\" she whispered simply. So light. So airy.  \n  \nHis heart quickened. And his pulse. His breathing. He swallowed.  \n  \nShe breathed out onto his cheek, warming his fur, his rich brown fur, which was  \na bit coarser than her own, soft honey-brown fur. Which smelled of something  \nsoft. Feminine.  \n  \nThey were, in seconds, wriggled out of any clothing. Bare. In the fur. Warm.  \nTogether. And lit by candlelight. There were shadows. Bold, wavering shadows.  \nDim, flirting with the dark as the grey became more pronounced outside, and more  \nblustery. And she shifted on top of him, her belly on his. Nose to nose. Their  \nwhiskers twitching. And the weight of her on top of him ... caused him to sink  \ndown into the cushions. Breathing harder, from instinct and anticipation.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; The wind blew through the heavy, icy branches of the trees outside, sending ice  \nshards onto the roof, into the windows. A crackling sound. A branch, unable to  \ntake the stress, snapped. Broke. Crashed to the snowy ground. Joining smaller  \nlimbs already there.  \n  \nHer brown eyes met his. Close. Open. He wasn't accustomed to such intimate eye  \ncontact, and he almost flinched. Almost broke it. But he held, his paws  \nwordlessly traveling to her back, where he scratched through her fur. Softly.  \nTenderly. Scritching. Running over her slender, warm curves, her soft fur.  \n  \nShe sighed. Broke the eye contact. And then squirmed a few inches forward, going  \nfor his ears. He lay, submissive, as she breathed out a hot breath. As it washed  \nover his right ear. And she blew a delicate breath into the inside of his ear.  \nBlowing softly, a soft breeze from her mouth.  \n  \n\"Oh.\" He sighed heavily. On the verge of squeaking. But he bit his lip. Furry  \nchest rising and falling. His eyes went to a half-close before opening fully  \nagain. Blink-blinking. Feeling the warm, moist trail of her tongue on the edges  \nof his ears. He sighed out. Squirming a bit. She continued warming, wetting, and  \ncaressing his right ear, her paw reaching up to clutch at his other ear.  \nTugging.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; He whimpered. Squeaked airily. His eyes watered.  \n  \n\"Oh,\" she breathed out, into his ear. Kissing. Breathing. \"I know,\" she  \nwhispered, sitting up, straddling his chest. Paws on his fur, scratching  \nthrough. \"I know,\" she whispered again. \"Just tell me when they get too  \nsensitive.\"  \n  \nHe swallowed and nodded, flushed.  \n  \nShe stroked his large mouse ears, continuing. They flushed. They burned. He  \nsqueaked like a baby.  \n  \n\"Need me to stop?\"  \n  \nHe whimpered again. Nodded.  \n  \n\"It's okay.\" She leaned down. Kissed his neck. \"I'll wait until they cool down.\"  \nShe smiled, nosing his fur, the fur on his neck. \"Besides, you're more than  \nears, aren't you?\"  \n  \nHe blushed, smiled. Blushed again. \"Yeah,\" he whispered.  \n  \nHer lips, her mouth ... suddenly met his. His nose flared for breath, whiskers  \ntwitching. Ears still throbbing from the stimulation. And she broke the kiss,  \nlaying down on top of him. Head on his chest, her own large ears (not as  \nsensitive as his) listening to his heartbeat.  \n  \nHe let his paws move to her lower back, rubbing. He grabbed onto the base of her  \ntail (which was more sensitive than his), reeling her tail in, guiding the tip  \nto his mouth. Suckling on it.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; She sighed and arched back, and then back down against him. \"Oh,\" she went.  \nAirily. And feeling his sudden hesitation, she tilted her head to meet his eyes.  \nIn the dimness. \"Go on,\" she said softly. Her eyes reflected the candlelight.  \nHer eyes glowed. She rubbed her nose in his fur. \"I trust you.\"  \n  \n\"Okay,\" he whispered, voice quavering. Allowing her tail to slip out of his  \nmouth.  \n  \nShe raised her head, putting her nose-tip to his nose-tip. She was still on top.  \nAnd his paws went past her rump, to her legs, working round to her thights. He  \nparted her legs. Delicately. She allowed him to push them open. And she,  \nsqueaking lightly with him, let out an \"oh\" as his roving paws rubbed at her  \nfolds. Again and again. She squeaked. His paws continued to search, parting,  \nsearching. The thumb on one of his paws ... ran itself back and forth over her  \nclit. She whimpered and squeaked, oh-ing again.  \n  \nAnd, then, wriggling and writhing with her, he maneuvered to the top, putting  \nher on bottom. Back on the cushions. She maneuvered her hips with his, his paws  \nback to her arms, and then her sides. She matched his movements, and ...  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; A great flush of warm air left his mouth in a moist exhale ... as he, his member  \nfirm and out, erect, nudged her opening and slid through, into her. And she  \nclosed her eyes and swallowed upon being entered.  \n  \n  \nStationary for a moment, he thrust his hips. And then again. Pausing. And then  \nforming a steady, sliding motion. And seeing his instinct take over, seeing him  \ngrow bolder, she began to knead the cheeks of his furry rump. Blowing hot air  \ninto his ears. And she bucked back, hugging him, holding him dearly, squeaking  \nat the pure, physical feeling. At his scent. His eagerness. His innocence. All  \nof it probing into her. She squeaked out. Pinned. Bucking hard against him. The  \nsounds of their bodies filled the room. Drowning out the sounds of the ice  \noutside.  \n  \nHis eyes were at a squint. His breath shallow, fast. Operating on animal  \ninstinct. Wanting. Feeling his body surge. His tail also went erect, straight up  \nbehind him and into the air, pointing at the ceiling. Her own tail snaked out  \nfrom under her sweating, furry, feminine form ... her tail wrapping, coiling  \naround his. And as he continued to work on her, her paws traveled back up to his  \nears. Taking their temperature. And then rubbing, tugging. Stopping whenever  \nthey burned too tender.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; He squeaked, cried out. Squeaked. Unable to close his mouth between breathing  \nand squeaking and whimpering.  \n  \nShe sighed repeatedly, oh-ing each time, unable to make civil sounds. Just  \nmoans. Pants. Feeling her fur brushing with his. Feeling they were just  \nextensions of each other.  \n  \nThey meshed together, bumping, humping. Gritting their teeth as the combination  \nof everything ... was stringing, leading them to their sharp, shared reward. To  \nclimax. The rising of passion, temperature, want ... crept higher. The pleasure.  \n  \nShe squirmed beneath his weight, squeaking out.  \n  \nHe trembled, whimpering as she repeatedly brought his ears to a burn, as his  \nmember tingled inside of her, among her warm, wet muscles.  \n  \nThey teetered on the edge of the couch, two writhing, squeaking, mating mice.  \nAnd they fell off. To the floor.  \n  \nAs soon as they hit the carpet, they hit orgasm. Like an explosion. They hit  \nnearly simultaneously. She a few seconds before him.  \n  \nShe felt a flutter-flutter, waves of radiating, searing ecstasy. She squeaked  \nand cried out, clutching him, paws clutching the fur on his back. Her eyes went  \nshut. Pussy leaking fluid. Mouth gasping for breath. She braced herself. Trying  \nto ride through it.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; His reaction left his tail shaking. IT went limp. The small fall to the carpet  \nhad snatched his breath right as his seed had begun to jolt, run, and then  \nexplode, spilling, filling into her, coating her interior. He gaped, squirming,  \nfoot-paws and paws sweaty, and his whiskers drooping. His climax forced a  \nmouse-bark. And again. A yelp. Wild. His nose twitched, and squeaking, he  \nexhaled onto her mouth. Gaping. And then a wet, messy kiss. And, empty, he lay  \non top of her. Filled with exhaustion, relief, care ... too many things to  \nprocess. A wet mess. Fur. Fluid. Saliva. He panted against her. She clutched at  \nhim, held to him. He anchored himself to her.  \n  \nAfter five minutes of wordless recovery, panting for stability, he slipped out  \nof her. They nestled, side-by side, on the couch. The cushions. Just breathing.  \nTwitching. Throats dry. They downed any water left in the glasses on the coffee  \ntable. Outside, the snow and sleet fell at a slant. Sky a slate color. Heavy.  \nIced.  \n  \n\"Oh,\" she went, exhaling. Leaning back. Limp. She leaned against him. She tilted  \nher head and gave him a tired, tender smile. A soft smile. They played with each  \nother's fur, and their foot-paws rubbed together, creating friction.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; He smiled back, vulnerable, squeaking lightly as one of her foot-paws went up  \nhis lower leg, and then back down again. He wrapped his arms and paws around  \nher.  \n  \nNeither wanted to break this, any of this, by speaking. Not yet. They were  \nmostly quiet.  \n  \nWhen their bodies had returned to normal, when things had further subsided, and  \nwith the candles getting low, he said, stuttering, his mind rational again ... and  \nrealizing this sudden, unplanned reality (though he felt, somehow, they had both  \nbeen unconsciously plotting for this to happen ... for a long, long time; the ice  \nstorm, perhaps, had given rise to a perfect excuse) ... he said, \"I don't want you  \nto have to, uh, walk back ... walk home in this ... \"  \n  \n\"I'll stay,\" she whispered, accepting his invitation before he'd even finished  \ngiving it.  \n  \nHe smiled. Flushed. \"Okay,\" he whispered back. He had been afraid, in a way,  \nthat this had been ... just instinct and circumstance. That maybe they were young  \nand foolish. That maybe ...  \n  \n\"I'll stay,\" she repeated, whispering into his fur.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; He felt a wave of ... of joy. Actual joy. He hadn't felt that before.  \n  \n\"My mouse,\" she whispered tenderly, rubbing a paw on his chest, his fur. Nosing  \nhim gingerly.  \n  \nOverwhelmed, he nuzzled and nosed her back. Simply allowing himself to feel. To  \njust ... be. And he guarded her. And loved her. All through the slippery, icy  \nnight. And forever after.  \n  \n  \n\n"}