FSE

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"You're staring at me, again."

"Am I?"

"Mm-hmm," Adelaide said. The bat lazily leaned back in her chair, letting her delicate wing-arms drape down to the floor. The other rooms in their old, drafty farmhouse were carpeted. Not this one. Her wingtips brushed the smooth, hard tiles, feeling the chill that came from the basement beneath the kitchen. Would it ever get warm again?

It was a late-February night, a Friday, a little after nine-o'clock, and winter was refusing to let up. Frozen granules were pelting the roof and windows. Ceaselessly pit-pat-pattering, battering the walls. It was an ice storm out there, complete with travel advisories and the like. Slip and slide. Traverse the roads at your own risk. Being poor, rural souls, and off work 'til Monday, they were fine spending the whole weekend at home. If the power went out, they'd just make electricity with each other. Or possibly borrow a generator and tractor from Field's parents. Either way.

"Well, I can't help it," Field eventually whispered from across the oblong, wooden table. She was right, of course. He'd been staring. And still was. Guilty as charged. But innocent at heart. The mouse, too, leaned back, listening to the frozen rain and letting his meal settle. Pasta, bread. Fruit. A green vegetable. Broccoli, actually. A little white wine to top it off. With his fast metabolism, he felt the slightest bit tipsy. It made him more relaxed than normal.

"Why's that?"

"What?"

"Why can't you help it?" she needled playfully, her plum-colored eyes looking royally purple in the dimness. They only had one light on. The hanging one above the kitchen sink. A single incandescent bulb. Three lit votive candles sat in the middle of the table, too, scented slightly of vanilla. Or was it crème brulee? Sugar cookies? Either way, it reminded them both that dessert was still pending ...

"Do I really need to say?" he asked, whiskers twitching, lightly glistening.

"Flatter me." A fanged smile. "You know you want to."

He giggle-squeaked lightly, looking away. Then helplessly back to her, sitting up straighter in his own seat, tail wavering behind him. "I really do," he admitted, dimples visible on his golden-furred cheeks, which only added to that aura of 'mousey cuteness.' He was a purebred harvest mouse, pelt soft and short, the color of a ripened wheat field in mid-summer. Hence his name. Field. Being born to a farming family had played a part in that, too.

"I'm waiting," the bat breathed, sultrily, taking a deep breath. It made her breasts rise up beneath her shirt.

This didn't escape his attention. Adelaide wasn't busty like a bovine, but she did have appreciable curves, nonetheless. Hills and valleys that encouraged his eyes to explore, to rove around. Luxuriously poke about. Her fur was so eye-catching, so warm and pink. Very pink. All over, even in the private places. He still, after all this time, wasn't sure what shade to call it. Cotton candy? Watermelon? Bubble gum? Those aren't real colors, Field. They're flavors. Sweet ones, though. No mistake. Oh, how she made him salivate, so feminine and flirtatious. Confident, dominant. And her playfulness! How could he resist?

"There's poetry on your tongue, mousey," the bat breathed, pulling him back to earth. "I can sense it."

Field could only nod.

Adelaide lifted her wing-arms up, now. Placed them on the tabletop. "Well? Out with it," she encouraged. Field was the type that needed to be nudged into action, sometimes. Romantics tended to be thinkers above doers, even if they didn't like to admit it.

"You're my Winged Victory. My Nike of Samothrace," he blurted, passionately. It was a comparison he'd made before. Several times. It was one of his favorites.

And she casually replied, as she usually did, "We've been over this. She doesn't have a head."

"Well, with a head."

"So, you put me on a pedestal?"

"Sometimes."

"Field ... "

The mouse blushed. "You like it ... "

She grinned. And didn't deny that. Just teased, "Careful, though. Put me on one too high, you might not be able to reach me. Or I might hurt myself flapping back down to you."

"I'd learn how to fly, I guess."

"You don't have wings." The bat stretched hers out for show.

"Then you'd have to jump. I'd catch you ... " He blinked. "Wait, if I can get you up there, I'm sure I can get you down. Logically, right?" A pause. "I'd just use a ladder. How high is this pedestal, anyway?"

"It's your creation. You tell me." She considered. "Could be high as the moon ... "

He smiled. "Silly ... "

"It was orange yesterday. For a little bit, when it was rising ... "

"The moon?"

"Did you see it?" the bat asked.

"Mm-hmm." He did, actually. Coming home from work.

"Like a big cheddar cheese wheel." She gave him a sly look.

"I haven't eaten that much cheese, lately," Field defended, without provocation. "Just that macaroni. And those crackers." A pause. "And that slice of pizza. It's not a true stereotype!"

"I've never met a mouse that didn't like it," Adelaide said.

"Well ... everyone likes it."

"Unless they're lactose intolerant."

"True." He stretched, idly. "Don't know who started that cheese on the moon rumor. Totally false."

"I wouldn't know what to do up there, anyway."

"Where?"

"On your imaginary pedestal," she replied.

"We're back on that?"

"So close to heaven? I'm not angelic enough."

The mouse giggle-squeaked.

"Oh, so you agree with that, then? I see how it is."

"You're the one who said it!"

"I did, I did ... " Adelaide shifted her right wing-arm, hooking her big, bendy thumb around her half-empty ... no, half-full. Definitely half-full wine glass. And brought it to her muzzle. She tipped it back, polishing it off with a slosh and swallow, feeling a sudden heat course through her throat. Riesling, was it? From Australia. Like her. She'd been born there, but her parents had moved to America, to Indiana, before she'd picked up an accent.

Anyway, they'd gotten this particular bottle because it was inexpensive and had a cute label. She set her now-empty glass down with a clink, licking her lips with her long tongue. "Mm-h." Versatile tongue. Very wily, wriggly tongue. It could do more than catch insects. The mouse knew from experience. It could wrap like a snake around his ...

"Well ... " Field swallowed. She was doing all that on purpose. Making her breasts jiggle, doing those tongue-exercises. Trying to fluster him. It was working, of course. And he chose not to fight it, giving her a provocative look that came from seven years of sharing her bed. Had they really been mated that long? "You're definitely not the kind of angel I learned about in church when I was little. I'll admit that."

"Because my wings aren't feathered?" she joked.

"That. And you don't hide behind layers of robes." He smiled, widely, unable to resist adding, "But you do bring 'good tidings of great joy'."

"You're not referring to 'words on high,' are you?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"If attempts at 'procreation' count as spiritual proclamations?" He almost twisted his tongue, there.

"They're both God-sent," she murred, lowly. "Aren't they?"

He nodded, breathing, "See, you're much more fun than an angel. I was right the first time. You're more like a Greek goddess. They were allowed to make love. Even with mortals ... I think."

The giggle-chitters flowed. "True. Yes ... but, still, I'm only as fun as what I have to work with, mousey," she insisted. "I'm not a solo artist."

"And what do I have, exactly?"

"To work with? I think that's pretty obvious ... "

"H-heh ... Adelaide ... " He walked right into that one ...

"Your cock, for one. I'm rather fond of it." A lusty look. "I hope that's not a surprise?"

"No ... " His ears went rosy-pink. It definitely wasn't. "It's, uh, fond of you, too ... "

"Mm. Good."

"What else?" he pressed. He'd just regaled her with compliments. Wasn't it her turn, now?

"You're sweet," she said, immediately, "and eager to please. You keep in great shape." She sighed, hotly. "Mm. You have this ... incredible stamina ... " Back to the physical stuff, again. But they were lovers. This wasn't a platonic relationship. "Buttered up yet?"

"Buttered and bashful." In equal parts.

"Perfect," she insisted. "I love it when you blush." His fleshy ears, especially. She could read them like a book.

"You always say that ... "

"It just riles me up." She drank him up with her eyes. He was better than the wine. Much more potent. "I know the real reason is probably instinctual. Blushing and flushing, blood to the extremities ... that's all part of sexual arousal, right? They're signs of it, anyway. So, knowing that, maybe the animal part of my mind is subconsciously turned on when your ears redden. Because I think you're aroused by me? And I respond to the perception of you wanting me by wanting you in return." That made sense, right?

"Well, I do blush a lot. And I do want you. The two must be related."

"There we go. Case solved. Who needs the scientific method?" she asked, spreading her velvety wing-arms.

"Well, not so fast. I mean ... maybe we should run some experiments. No harm in that, right?" Field posed.

"Experiments?"

"To see if ... you know, all that stuff is true."

"We both know it is." She paused, tilting her head to add, "Now, if you're trying to find a polite way to suggest we have sex ... "

"I was, yeah."

" ... then I'm all for it."

"You're incorrigible," he told her.

"Maybe." The bat chittered with mirth. "But you're the one who's suggesting we fuck. So, what does that make you?"

"Those weren't my exact words ... "

"Thoughts, then," Adelaide amended.

"And what if I made them actions? I mean, that's what we're building to, isn't it?" Field observed.

"I'd say so," she breathed, hotly, breasts swelling up again. "Go on, then." A wave and a nod. "You're the male. Make a move on me."

"Like ... "

" ... physically, Field. Get up and do something," she challenged. "I know you can ... "

"Of course I can." He'd just threatened to, after all. "I'm just, uh, not the dominant partner here," he told her. He was submissive to her. She normally set the tempo and style, and he responded to it.

"Well, let's pretend that you're full of 'machismo.' At least for tonight." She gave him a flirty wink, slowly peeling off her shirt. That would encourage him, surely. "You'd prefer to do what I want, right?"

He nodded, shyly, watching as she exposed her hot-pink belly-fur. And her bra.

"Well, I want you to have your way with me. Understood?" she said, tilting her head a bit. Getting that shirt up and o'er her head, past her big, sweeping bat-ears. It wasn't a really a suggestion, even if it sounded like one. She was giving him an order.

"I, uh ... yeah... I think I can manage that. Muddle through, somehow," he blabber-squeaked, already out of his chair and circling to the other side of the table, ropy, prehensile tail trailing behind him. Heart hammering in his chest, he quickly blew out the candles and pulled Adelaide's seat away from the table, too, spinning her around.

The bat dropped her shirt to the floor and looked up at him, spreading her wings in a 'take me, I'm yours' sort of way. She wasn't very good at playing submissive. But, oh, she could do enticing. And that's what she was doing right now.

He returned her gaze. He could stare into her eyes forever. If only he wasn't so horny. He reached down to pick her up. "Put your wings around me," he whispered into one of her sonar-capable ears.

Wordlessly, she threw them around the mouse. His arms moving under her legs and back. One, two. He lifted her up, carefully, and whisked her past the threshold of the kitchen and into the dark living room, where the sound of freezing rain against glass was more prominent. The windows were bigger in here. But the air was warmer because the fireplace was in here, too, its augur whirring, the flames flapping. A pellet stove. Field stopped in front of it, letting the warmth envelop them both. He shifted Adelaide in his arms, tail whipping about and whiskers began to twitch.

"I don't think I wanna make love on the stove," she teased. "Burning with desire isn't supposed to be literal ... "

"I'm not putting you on the stove," he replied, distractedly. "Just wondering ... couch? Bed?" Where, exactly, they should do this? Did it even matter? Maybe they could do it standing up. That was always erotic. Against a wall, perhaps? He turned around, looking back to the kitchen. The bathroom. There was always the shower ...

"I'm not in charge," she reminded, lightly, nosing at his neck. "You decide."

"Mm-h ... " He secured his hold on her. He needed to put her down somewhere. And soon. He was only twenty-eight, but a life of manual labor hadn't been kind on his spine.

She wrapped her wing-arms around his neck more desperately, mouthing and tonguing at his chin and cheeks. Kissing her way toward his lips, encouragingly. "Field," she moaned. "Just choose something." It was almost a plea. Her desire was turning into an ache. There was only one antidote ...

He nodded. Okay. Bed! Yes. Definitely their bed. That's the most comfortable, reliable option, right? He almost stumbled forward with enthusiasm.

Adelaide let forth some echo-bursts in the dark, whispering 'left' and 'right' as needed. They'd lived in this house for years, of course. And it wasn't that big. But with darkness fallen, complete cloud cover, and no lights on except in the kitchen, it was pitch black. She didn't want him to stub his toes on a coffee table and ruin the mood.

With her guidance, he easily found the bedroom door, teetering on one leg and using the other to kick it open. Bam! It swung back with a clunk, and he lurched forward, practically throwing Adelaide down onto the middle of the mattress. The wooden bed-frame audibly creaked.

She chittered, losing her breath from the bounce and shivering with arousal from the mouse's strength.

Still standing, he was undoing his belt. His zipper. His pants were coming down. He hopped out of them, losing the blue, relaxed denim, exposing his butterscotch fur. Not that colors could be seen without any light. Since she was leaving it up to him, he was going to breed her in the dark. With sight dulled, the sense of touch would be heightened. Their memories and imaginations would intensify the passion.

But her hues were eternally burned into his mind. Carmine, cerise, Persian rose. In addition to all those candy-colored flavors he'd been thinking about earlier. So delectable. Mixing with his lemon, butterscotch. Whole grain honey wheat. They made such a colorful, vibrant couple, flowing together as one, a swirl of fur and form. Or soon to be, anyway. It was so close to happening! He was beside himself. There were not enough adjectives how hard his cock was. It almost hurt. He peeled his form-fitting boxer-briefs away from his surging loins, sighing with momentary relief. Oh, that was better ...

Her sweeping ears heard it all, including his heavy breathing, his frantic squeaks. She stretched out invitingly on the bed. Even if he couldn't fully see it, he could hear her sliding on the sheets. He knew the sight. He'd seen it hundreds of times before. Maybe thousands? "Oh, fuck, Field ... come on ... "

"Adelaide ... mm. I am. I want your pussy ... " It was such an obvious thing to say, but he blurted it out, anyway.

"Then take it. I'm so wet for you ... "

"I know. I'm ready ... I'm here ... " His sniffy, twitchy nose was fully alive with her familiar, fantastic scent. Finally naked, he moved to all fours over her, pulling at her own clothes. Adelaide arched her entire body to help him out. Wing-arms flapping randomly, legs kicking. Bra, pants. Gone and gone. Just like that. And her underwear. Soon on the floor, too. Probably. Maybe it was still on the bed somewhere. Who cared?

It was no surprise to Adelaide that Field was already stiff. But she still gave a gasp as she felt his hard, throbbing erection poking at her exposed, furry thighs, sliding along her pelt, the harvest mouse laying himself flat atop her, paws ceaselessly stroking, grabbing and groping. In their natural states, animal instincts flaring, urging them to breed, breed. It was impossible not to heed ...

Still flat on her back, head sinking into a soft, downy pillow, Adelaide let her thighs fall apart. Yes, knees bending, legs spreading. This was it. She locked her limbs around the mouse's warm, wriggling body. Mm, so fit. Like a fiddle. One she fully intended to play. She wrapped the rodent up. All of him. With her wing-arms, too. Those glorious, delicate things, with their velvety membranes and kite-like bone struts. Like blankets around him, covering most of his backside, her extra-long thumbs digging into his rump, spurring him toward that final step.

Field, nibbling on Adelaide's cheek, surged forward impatiently. Wriggled, angled, and pushed his hips. And, by extension, his very essence. Parting her pouty petals, it found its mark. Three, four, no, five inches deep, before bottoming out. A hot, huffy noise, his tufted, furry sac, the orbs swelling tight inside, grinding flush to her fleshy flower and the fur that surrounded it. He reveled in these first moments of penetration. It was too easy to forget how special this was, to take it for granted. The connection. The rawness of it. The sheer, shocking heat of her, complemented by such perfect wetness. Oh, god, she felt so good. But there was a way to make it feel even better. Add some friction, Field. Move it!

Adelaide whimpered from the throat, approvingly, as he pulled back, hips hovering in place, leaving just his blunt, sensitive head inside her. He teased her. And then came a sharp, firm thrust, humping, grinding. That's what she wanted. Oh, yes. His entire cock disappearing into her sex, swallowed up. He grunted and bumped her down against the mattress and the strewn sheets before pulling back again. Hovering more briefly. And soon, barely and not at all, segueing into an unbroken rhythm of in, out. In and out. Back and forth. Hump, hump, hump, shaft moving like a piston, making sure to follow his thrusts all the way through, to connect his hips directly with hers, using his thick pubic fur to stimulate her budding clitoris.

The bat's wings trembled. She bucked up against her mate, beginning to squeal. "Oh-h ... oh, that's ... " Her toes curled. Her muzzle fell open, tongue peeking out. Oh. So good! Oh, so ... good ... it made her echo-burst. The high-pitched sounds bounced, bounced. Off everything!

Field, after a few minutes of this, forced himself to slow down, hold back. Gently, gently easing, until he wasn't moving at all. Just balls-deep in his mate, his bold, beautiful bat, the thing in the world he most cared about. She was everything to him. He told her this. He whispered it against her face.

"F-field ... " Her tongue wormed wetly against his cheek.

"I know. I know," he cooed, turning his head, opening his maw. Locking lips with her. It was a loose, luscious kiss.

She moaned.

He squeaked.

And she slipped that long tongue right into his bucktoothed mouth.

"Mm. Mm-h ... " With a suckle and twist, he deepened the kiss, feeling her tongue sliding o'er his own, flicking to the roof of his maw. Even to the insides of his cheeks. It prompted him to resume moving his hips. No humping. No thrusting. Yet. Just grinding, gently rolling in a slow, pressing circle. Her clitoris receiving constant stimulation.

Adelaide arched her body, wings reaching, stretching, somewhat flapping. Stirring their body heat, swirling it through the dark bedroom air. Along with loose strands of fur. Winter? Ice storm? What? It was hard to believe anything existed outside of this bedroom. Time and space stopped here. She wrapped him up possessively and completely subdued his tongue with her own, feeling him respond by coiling his tail around her ankle.

Field's nose flared, whiskers tangling with hers, a delicate, twitchy feeling, and, Lord, he couldn't resist pulling his slender hips back. Her walls were beginning to flutter around him. And it felt ... well, beyond description. He had to thrust. I want to hump! She was so, so slick with a swirling mixture of her own nectar and his pre, and so hot, so full of blood. His essence began to tingle, and he plunged it back into her, rubbing against those walls, all along them. Every millimeter. Playing them in full. Bow and fiddle. Make her sing!

And, oh, the more those walls clamped around him, the better his cock felt. Which only made him thrust faster, faster! Which, in turn, made her feel better, too, and made her walls squeeze even tighter! It was a heady, hazy series of circular sensations, as if they formed a closed, sexual circuit. He couldn't stop. Neither could she. Nature upped the ante on pleasure until neither of them could resist chasing it off the proverbial cliff. Luckily, they had parachutes. She was on a birth control pill. But more than that, they were in love. Deeply. Or was nature responsible for that, too? Did any emotion or instinct exist apart from it?

The bat didn't know. Or care, honestly. Because, oh, she came. Hard.

Field sensed it building, felt it coming, but decided not to let up. He drilled her even as she was getting off around him. He plowed through it, trying to give her every inch of extra satisfaction. It was like rushing through an explosion.

With a gasp, her breasts swelled, pushing up as her lungs expanded. That breath. She held it. And, then, then ... a huge sigh! Giving weak, upward hip-thrusts, crying out as her sex, in spasms, gave a sizable squirt. A squelching sound, followed by a dribbling. Then down to a trickle. As Field's marinated mouse-hood slipped and slid through the mess.

The mouse finally slammed to a hilt. And stayed there. She was making it too hard to focus. He couldn't control himself. He weighed anchor inside her.

Her walls rippled fiercely for a moment or two longer, her loins absolutely aflame. Especially her clitoris. Her head rolled aside, body flush with orgasm. Perhaps not even her first. It was hard to say when one ended and another stopped. They just kept coming, her nipples hard as sapphires and rubbing through her mate's chest-fur. "Ah, ah-h ... AH ... "

The mouse licked her cheek in a hungry, erotic way, hot all over himself. Hearing her, feeling her in her throes. It was the final straw. Unable to fend off the surge of pleasure that suddenly sizzled down his spine and through his mouse-hood, be began to wriggle desperately. "Oh ... oh ... " He grabbed at her, grunting and pinning her to the bed, tail whipping above them. " ... uh-H, UH!" He lifted his head, sighing heavily. "Oh-h ... "

She knew he was ejaculating. She could feel it. The way his cock twitched and jumped, pulsed and pumped. She dug her heels into the backs of his legs, toes curling. She wanted all of it. All of him. "Yes, y-yes ... mousey ... give it to me ... "

Field did so. For several seconds. And slumped, slack-jawed, panting wildly as his climax tapered. As she milked him dry. His whiskers felt momentarily numb. It took him a moment, maybe two, before he could even say, "Oh-h ... oh, my goodness." He mumbled a few other things, too. But maybe it was best that they were unintelligible.

She relaxed beneath him, wings and arms still wrapped around his body. But much more loosely, now. One wing even fell away. The bat nuzzled at his face. "Mm, wonderful ... "

"Definitely ..." He rubbed his cheek to hers, tangling their whiskers. "Mm. You're a delight, darling, as always." He pushed his nose through her neck fur, sniffing at her scent. "So lovely." And though he didn't want to pull out of her, he was beginning to shrink. It was getting harder to stay. So, he lifted his hips, leaving behind rivulets of hot, white seed. They were going to have to wash the sheets in the morning ...

"How'd you like being more traditionally dominant?" He could've been way more dominant than he'd been, for sure. But she wasn't going to complain.

"It felt good," he breathed, still slightly out of it. He rolled over, laying beside her and staring up at the ceiling. It was nothing but shadows.

"Yeah?" she cooed into his ear, shifting onto her side.

"Mm ... mm-hmm ... " His ears, which she'd ignored until now, were very sensitive in his post-coital state. The extra blood hadn't left them yet.

She knew this. And was blowing little breaths across them. Then bigger breaths. And then her tongue began to lick round the rims. "But we both remember who's really in charge, don't we?" she whispered, tongue actually venturing into a lobe, circling toward the ear-canal. "Field?"

"You ... y-you are ... "

"Want me to stop?"

"No!"

Opening wide, she pressed her body against his, side by side, and did a number on that ear. The left one. Licking, nibbling. Painting the flesh with saliva. Blowing hot breaths. Until his squeaks became frantic and the blood, the rushing and blushing, became too much. The heat spilled down to his cheeks, down through his chest. In a unique, tingling way. Very different from the pleasure he'd felt in his loins. But still a form of pleasure. Oh, yes. He shivered. And the bat kissed his delicate lobe once more before pulling back. "Just making sure you knew that ... "

" ... w-what? Mm?" Field eventually went, paws moving to his own forehead, fingers running through his head-fur. His focus was slow to come back.

"You weren't paying attention to a word I said, were you?"

"You were giving me ear-sex! Minutes after regular sex. Like ... " His mind was blown, basically. He squeaked!

The bat giggled. "So fucking cute."

"And you were saying, um ... you're in charge." He remembered, now.

"Mm-hmm." She ran a wingtip down his side. "I felt tipsy after the wine," Adelaide told him. "But, now, after all this dessert? I feel drunk on you. I better not have a hangover in the morning."

"That's so romantic ... " The dimpled smile was evident in his voice. "Lucky for you, mouses have no ill side-effects."

"You promise?" she teased.

"You should know by now," he murred, groping the breast above her heart. They touched noses. And he breathed, "I love you so much ... "

"I love you, too."

A happy sigh from him. "Hold on a second ... " He carefully rose up, reaching away from her, off to the side of their bed. A flick, click, and a light turned on. A lamp on the bedside stand. They were both bathed in an instant glow. Pink and gold, their fur matted and sweaty. And, laying upon sky-blue bed-sheets, they incidentally formed a primary color triad. They were aesthetically perfect.

The bat shielded her eyes. They took a moment to adjust. "What'd you turn that on for?"

Returning to her, straddling her hips and cupping her breasts, taking a very 'cowgirl' position, he admitted, "Earlier, you accused me of staring at you." He gazed into her eyes, thumbs gently wagging over her nipples. "I wanted you to see that I still am." Also, it was only ten-o'clock. They'd probably get up and shower in a minute. Have a snack, watch a show ...

An easy grin appeared on her muzzle. Those fangs. She flashed them. "Oh? Still can't help yourself, can you?"

"I'm hopeless."

"Mm-h. Lucky for me." She gave a relaxed chitter. "You know, for a moment there, I thought maybe we melted winter away and ushered in an early spring." She gave a quick glance at the window. It was still caked with ice. The storm raged on. "Maybe tomorrow ... "

"Definitely tomorrow," he promised.

With all the passion in their arsenal, they had more than a fighting chance.