Rabbit Racket
Thwack!
The tennis ball cleared the net. Bounced. A neon-green and yellow sphere.
The rabbit reached for it, swung for it with the racket.
Bonk!
The ball went back, and the other rabbit ...
"Missed! You missed!" the first exclaimed.
"I know, Rye. I saw it," the second mumbled. Bare, furry chest heaving. Matted. He wore a tired expression.
"That means I win the point," Rye rambled. "And the match, and the game ... well, all of it, really." He bobbed on his bare foot-paws. Dressed, like the other rabbit, only in shorts. "Don't be a sore loser, Trip," he continued.
"I'm not," Trip replied. He frowned. His nose twitching. "I'm just no good at these games. I don't know why I let you talk me into playing them."
Rye shrugged his furry, butter-tan colored shoulders. His fur was near-white on his chest and belly, and around his nose, but the rest of him was that warm tan. He squinted in the lemon sunlight. "Cause it's good exercise, and it's fresh air ... and I enjoy the company," he said sincerely.
Trip just blushed and shrugged. "Well," he started, trailing.
Then the two rabbits wandered off the makeshift tennis court (which was just low-cut grass, worn to the dirt in places; and an old volleyball net that sagged in the middle, touching the ground in spots). They were in the countryside, at Rye's house. Which wasn't too far from Trip's place.
They wandered to the barn, where the rackets and tennis balls were kept ... along with other sports items. Basketballs. Et cetera. In a trash barrel next to a small refrigerator. Which was plugged into the barn's only electrical outlet. Along with a whirring fan that turned its head back and forth, simply blowing hot air. It was probably a waste of electricity, but Rye was convinced it helped. So, whenever he was in the barn, he let it run. Even in winter. He liked the whir. The hum. Liked the moving air.
"A drink?" offered Rye, opening the refrigerator.
"Sure," went Trip, letting out a breath.
"Water," said Rye.
Trip nodded. "That's fine."
"Only, let's not have the bottled stuff. We'll have the stuff from the spout outside." He found some empty cups on a dusty shelf. And, with a bounce in his bunny steps, went back out into the hot, summer sun.
Trip followed, though at a slower pace.
Rye, at the spout, pushed the handle upward. So that it jutted out. The spout produced a gurgling before the water poured out in a crystal stream. He smiled, waiting a few seconds, and filled the two cups. And pushed the handle back down, turning the water off.
"Thanks," said Trip softly, as Rye handed him his brimming cup. As he eagerly drank of the cold liquid.
Rye nodded, gulping his own water.
They meandered back to the barn.
Rye noticed Trip lagging behind.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Well, nothing ... just, my foot-paws ... "
"What?"
"They're tired." He shrugged.
Rye smiled warmly. "Come on," he said, taking his friend's paw. "Sit down." He sat his fellow rabbit down in the hay, on a hay bale. And crouched down, his paws closing around Trip's long, furry foot-paws. Massaging. Beginning to rub.
Despite himself, Trip couldn't help but sigh.
Rye handled each foot-paw with care, rubbing the pads, caressing the toes.
"You don't ... have to do that." Trip had closed his eyes, taking a breath.
"It's okay," Rye whispered back.
Trip breathed in, out. In. Out. Relaxing.
Rye's nose and whiskers twitched and sniffed. His long, acute ears wiggling. The feel of the rabbit's foot-paws ... and fur. He was hardly aware that his paws were leaving the foot-paws and sliding, running through the fur on Trip's legs, stopping at his thighs.
Trip's breathing had gotten faster. His heart pounded, pounded. He swallowed, eyes open and meeting Rye's.
"You want me to stop?" Rye whispered.
Trip swallowed. They had always been ... very close. They had pawed each other off before (well, only once ... and they hadn't talked about it afterwards), but ... well, never anything beyond that. And it felt, right now, that ... that it would go beyond that. Far beyond that. If they let it happen. The desire to indulge it, the desire for romance ... to have something more with him. To take it further. These things swam through Trip's mind. He thought that maybe this was wrong, or that maybe it would ruin what they had, but ...
His heart hammering faster, swallowing again, Trip whispered, "No." He felt a bit dizzy. "Don't stop."
Their intent made clear, it was as if ... somehow, the wall of tension cracked. Crumbled. And the two rabbits started to flow into each other. Rye undressed them both, which didn't take long. They were only wearing jean shorts ... because they'd been in the sun. Playing. Sweating.
Rye pushed Trip to his furry back. In the hay. And leaned over him. Their twitching noses brushed and bumped, mouths hesitating. They had never actually kissed before. Maybe because they'd been afraid that if they started ... but they hadn't that fear right now. And, Rye, the naturally dominant of the two, continued his hold of the momentum. And initiated the kiss. Tilting his head, lips meeting, opening, sucking Trip's. Trip moaned with closed eyes, sucking and kissing back. The kiss going for so long ... as to have them panting when they broke it. Rye resting his nose on the other rabbit's cheek.
Trip wrapped his arms and paws around Rye's back, groping down and tugging at his white, bob-like tail.
Rye's own paws fumbled and fished down for Trip's sheath.
Trip arched a bit, closing his eyes for a second, as Rye found it. And squeezed it. And Trip let out a little whimper as Rye's sweaty paw worked him to arousal, his other paw tugging at his own sheath. And, before long, both of them were erect. Aroused. And panting as they licked and kissed each other. Before Trip fell back to his back and panted, lifting his legs up into the air. Rye met his eyes. Eager. Wanting him. And knowing what to do.
Rye, sitting up, guided Trip's legs up against him, so that his foot-paws rested up past his shoulders. So that the submissive rabbit's soft, furry rump was open and easy for ...
Trip took a deep breath as he felt his companion's meat poking him. Rye prodded his tail-hole a few times before getting in, pushing in. And the feel of that tight, hot space, the feel of ... everything ... it caused Rye's instincts to flare. He couldn't help but humping his hips, quickly.
Trip, through closed eyes, let out a yelp and a whimper, opening his eyes, which were watering.
Rye stopped his motions, "Are you ... are you okay?" He blushed. "Does it hurt?"
"No, just ... " Trip blushed, too, beneath his fur. "Just don't go so fast." His whiskers twitched, his long ears flushing pink.
"Sorry," Rye whispered, his paws running through the fur on Trip's chest. He gave one of Trip's paws a squeeze.
Trip smiled shyly.
Slower, this time, more gently ... Rye slid in and out of Trip's tail-hole. Gently thrusting in, to the hilt. Which would elicit a moan from the other rabbit, and a squirm. And then he would pull back, and then slide forward. Such an easy, warm motion. So tight. His member sparking from the stimulation. Rye panted and closed his eyes.
Trip felt his tail-hole close and clench around the shaft. Felt the warmth of it ... as it dug through him, owning him. Prodding his prostate, as if kissing it. Which caused him to moan out.
The slow and steady feeling made Rye antsy. Oh, he wanted it. Wanted to sow his seed into the rabbit's bowels. And, unable to help himself, he started to buck faster.
Trip gasped and moaned, but was used to the sensation by now ... so that the faster motion didn't hurt or feel uncomfortable. Rather, it just drove the pleasure higher. And the harsh kissing of his prostate by the other rabbit's member ... Trip squirmed and clutched for Rye's fur, pleading for him to hurry. It was so sensitive, so ... he just wanted to climax. He couldn't stand the build-up, the tease. He wanted it.
Rye felt the same. And his furry, humping hips pounded against Trip's rump, sliding in. To the hilt. Pulling out, humping back. The two rabbits panted and moaned together, their furry chests rising, falling, their long ears wiggling. Smelling of hay and fur and sweat.
"Oh," Rye started, feeling it coming. Like a flood. "Oh ... " He fumbled for one of Trip's paws. Fumbled, and found it. And clutched at his paw as his jerking spasms hit, as he unloaded into the other rabbit. And Rye tilted back and let out a sort of howl, eyes closed, heaving. And, several seconds later, he leaned back. Swallowing. And feeling something warm and sticky on his belly-fur, looked down ... and saw that Trip was spurting onto him. And was whimpering, holding his paw tight.
When they had untangled themselves, Rye held to Trip, hugging him. "Oh, my love," he breathed into the rabbit's large ears.
Trip blushed and hugged back, shyly saying, "Um ... I could use more water."
"To drink," Rye whispered, teasing, "Or to bathe in?"
Trip blushed and smiled shyly.
"Or how about both?" Rye continued, nibbling on one of Trip's ears.
Trip smiled shyly, still blushing. "That sounds ... lovely."
Which is how, ten minutes later, they wound up giggling in the tub. Taking a bubble bath.