There She Goes
A scurry-ful step-stepping, with a string of soft squeaks, as the mouse started to cross the street. But, suddenly, he was stopped in place! Held back! All wide-eyed and whisker-twitching, looking around. To the side. Left, and then the right. And then craning his neck and wriggling his mousey body to peer behind him.
Aria, white brow raised, eye-smiled in that pristine, controlled way, tilting her head. Looking rather crystalline beneath the blue sky and yellow sun. On such a mid-June day. And Ross's long, silky-pink rope-tail was clearly in her right paw. Clearly. Wrapped around her fingers, her wrist. Pretty securely, too. " ... is something wrong?" was the snow rabbit's prim, poised question. "You seem flustered."
"You, uh ... " The mouse cleared his throat, his voice airy and effeminate. As he whispered, " ... you got my tail." A pause, and a blush. Biting his lip. The tail flailed in place. "I can't move."
"You were scurrying away with yourself." She nodded, still holding the snaky tail. One she'd held many times before. One she'd done many things with. Holding it like a reign of some sort. Mouse-tails could be rather fun, really. They weren't big and fluffy or furry, no. Maybe they had their limits. But they were so perfectly built for tugging and stroking. And, as Aria knew from experience, suckling on the tip of a mouse's tail for no reason other than you wanted to? Was good foreplay.
"I was just ... the, uh," he went, stammering. " ... the sign said 'walk'."
"It did," was the nodding agreement. "'Walk'."
"Yeah?" He still didn't understand why Aria wasn't letting him go. Why she hadn't walked with him to the other sidewalk.
"By definition and practice, scurrying is not walking. With traffic as it is, I didn't want you to get carried away. You have a tendency, when you move, to zigzag all over." She was such a reasoned creature. When she wanted to be.
" ... well," was all he could say, looking across the street. The sign, now, showed an orange paw. A 'do not walk' signal. "We missed our chance to cross!" Ross squeaked, with soft worry. So much about him was soft.
"It will cycle through in a few minutes," she assured, soothingly. "Are we in that much a hurry? Don't we have the day off?" Aria asked. Again, with her logic.
Ross just sighed and nodded, swallowing, his heart beating a little bit faster than normal. Cities unnerved him. And the fact that, for the remainder of his and Aria's schooling, they had to live in one?
Aria, ice-blue eyes appearing rather serene, said, as if intuiting his thoughts, "We shan't spend all our summers in urban confines. We will live in the countryside ... "
" ... someday," he finished, nodding. Whiskers twitching.
"Yes," was the confident, simple assurance. "I know you have faith. And you are the reason," she said, "that I have it, too. So, do not doubt."
He met her eyes, shyly. His own eyes blue-grey. "I'm not doubting. I just wish our future wasn't so far away." Their future: him as a photographer, her an engineer. Working just enough to afford a house way out in the countryside. Where they would live in nature. And have a baby or two. Eventually. " ... the countryside in the summer?" he said, knowing from experience, having been raised on a farm. "It's shrouded in romance. Passionate storms, perfumed flowers, swoon-ful sunsets, simmering stretches of sun. Everything green with promise. I mean, it's not perfect. No place is. But, you know, it's ... " A sigh. " ... close enough. Everything there is ... " He trailed.
Aria eye-smiled, still holding his tail. She loved his poetry, his artistry. How it was fueled by a well of emotion that she, herself, didn't have. Her emotions restrained, held back by her 'emotional freeze.' Snow rabbit physiology and psychology were unique from other rabbits. Though, no mistake: snow rabbits were still rabbits. And that meant a whole lot of 'being rabbit-y.'
" ... close enough," Ross repeated, quietly, going on with his thoughts. And looking around at all the tall, towering buildings, all the busy, bustling cars, all the shimmering, heat-waving sidewalks. It was 87 degrees right now, right around noon. The mouse swallowed, sighing, flushed. Telling his wife, " ... I wanna be wrapped in purity with you." Leaning closer to her, twitching some. "I wanna ... " He licked his lips, eyes closing halfway. " ... wanna be far away from anything artificial, anything mass-produced, anything generic. Anything casual and crowded. Anything overused. I wanna be in rarified air with you. I wanna make love to you," he said, not stopping with the unfiltered poetry. Sometimes, his heart just welled with it. Sometimes, he just had to let it out. " ... wanna make love to you in a field beneath the stars. In the wild grass and irises."
Aria, her big, tall rabbit-ears like white-furred, charcoal-tipped antennae twiddling atop her head, took a short, steamy breath. " ... that would be," she admitted, equally whispering. Equally privately. In spite of all the honk-honking car horns and overhead jets and sputtering motors and other bits of noise pollution trying to stamp their conversation out. " ... that would be most ideal." Maybe not the most romantic way of saying 'I'd love to do that.' But her logic sometimes made her words a bit formal. It was typical of snow rabbit demeanor. Finally letting go of his tail, she moved her paws, now, to his sides, and scooted him right up to her, front to front. Nose to nose. Her black, charcoal-colored nose to his ever-pink, ever-sniffy one, their whiskers daintily brushing as she whispered, eyes almost closing, " ... one of these days, I shall take you to the Interior," she said, referring to the Heart of Alaska. Where she'd been born. Where she was from. Closer to Fairbanks than not, but mostly in the wilderness. " ... we shall breed on the banks of the Yukon. Beneath the Northern Lights."
Ross could only swallow. And then, cheeks flushed beneath his muddy-brown fur, give a short, short exhale. " ... o-okay," he agreed.
An eye-smile, her nose bumping his.
His head tilted. " ... w-we're on the sidewalk. The, uh, cars, the furs ... "
" ... are watching us. I know," she whispered, pulling back a bit. And eye-smiling brightly as she smoothed at her tank-top shirt. "The heat makes us many kinds of hot, it seems."
"Heat is passion?" Ross half-asked, half-told her, innocently, sweetly. In his airy, little way.
Meeting his eyes, she nodded. "Indeed." Eye-smiling more, and then sighing, looking around. To the other sidewalk, across the four-lane street. "I suppose we should pay attention to the sign, after all, if we have any wish of getting to the grocery."
"Are we really gonna walk back with all those grocery bags?" Ross asked, whiskers twitching some.
"We can take the free shuttle-bus. It will get us most of the way back to our apartment. And we can manage the rest of the distance. Besides, you are a very fit mouse. You enjoy a good walk."
"Scurry. Good scurry," he corrected.
A head-tilt. "Very well. A good scurry. And me," she added, "a good hop. And I suppose it's only fitting that we work up a sweat now, in preparation for later ... " She let the implications of that hang in the muggy, urban air. Rabbits, with their increased virility, their sultriness, always had a certain thing on the mind. It seemed that way, anyway.
Ross, being a meadow mouse, was much more modest. A lot shyer. And Aria's little comments and sizzling glances and suggestions always made his ears go rosy-pink. Always made his eyes dart. Reactions that were really, in Aria's mind, rather cute. And only made her want him more. Mouses had a natural cuteness about them that was very hard to resist. You wanted to hug them and squeeze them and protect them and never let them go.
"We may walk, now," Aria said, with a nod, grabbing one of the mouse's blunt-clawed, padded paws. Leading him off the sidewalk and across the asphalt. It was a little bit uncomfortable, today. With everything absorbing all the heat the sun was giving, it made walking on the 'blacktop' a bit uncomfortable on the foot-paw pads. Being that almost all furs went, by nature and necessity, barefoot all the time. Their foot-paws were built to handle terrain. That's what the pads were for. But, still ...
" ... I'd rather be walking through grass in the countryside," Ross had to say, just because he couldn't stop from saying it. " ... you know, rather than all this stuff." He said 'stuff' with a bit of a scrunch-face. As if they were walking on ground that wasn't totally real.
"I know," was Aria's simple response, as they reached the other sidewalk. And as the cars, behind them, began to putter-put and zoom-zoom forward and toward the next string of lights. "'Cities are for rats, not for mouses'," she said, repeating what Ross often lamented.
The mouse, with a sudden bout of 'mousey stubbornness,' just nodded. "Well, they are." And he nodded again, whiskers twitching.
"Still," Aria said, continuing to hold his paw as they walked, side-by-side, toward the Circle, " ... most opportunities for schooling and careers go through cities. At some point, anyhow. That is why we're here. Opportunities that we chose to pursue. Had we stayed only in our respective rural confines, we'd not have been able ... "
" ... I know, I know," the mouse went, twitching.
" ... to go after jobs we enjoy," Aria continued. "I cannot be taught engineering in nature. Nor can you be professionally trained in photography on a farm."
"Well, I know that." A squeaky sigh. "I know why we have to be in the city," Ross went, sighing, whiskers twitching. Looking around, wide-eyed. Ears all a-swivel. So many noises. So many bad, oily smells. It made his nose to wrinkle as it sniffed.
"And had we not come here," she added, more importantly, "we would not have met."
Ross nodded quietly. That was true. "I'm not questioning fate, or where we're supposed to be, or ... you know? I just can't help but yearn."
"For?"
"Well, lots of things. I mean ... you know that. I tell you all the time."
"You do," she acknowledged. "But I don't tire of hearing your dreams. Your hopes. You have a way of making them seem so noble. Like glowing panoramas one aims to journey into."
Ross was quiet for a moment, not responding to that. Even if it were true. Which it was. Sometimes, he could get carried away with the poetry of things. He wondered if that made him seem foolish, sometimes. Aria insisted it didn't. And, sniffing the air, he finally continued, "I come from fields, pastures, woods. I grew up with silence and breezes. It's part of me. It's my sustenance. I mean, you are. Our love. God, too. And nature. All of that." A pause. "I need all those things to survive. You remove any one of them, and it becomes ... "
" ... less complete. And more of a struggle," she finished, nodding. "I do understand," she insisted.
"I know." A twitch. "I know. I'm sorry ... "
"It is alright. You simply worry too much. I know you cannot help it. 'Mousey anxiety' and all. But you are getting better. When we first met, you were much more anxious than you are now."
A flush. A little nod.
"Love has tamed you some. Nature will tame you the rest of the way ... is what you believe, yes?"
"I just wanna be back there, Aria. With you," he said. That was always the most important thing. Not just returning to the countryside. But doing so with her. And be it the Hoosier or Alaskan countryside, it didn't really matter. In his mind, he'd always imagined they would stay in Indiana. Aria hadn't said anything to indicate that she wanted to go back to her home. To visit, yes. But not to permanently live. They would probably end up somewhere north of here, within reach of Indy. But far enough away to have total privacy and openness.
"Patience," she said, eventually, as they reached the Circle. "That is what we must have. The both of us."
"Patience?"
A nod, as the snow rabbit's eyes darted up a bit. Briefly. Scanning up to the observation-towered top of the Soldiers and Sailors Monument. And then, gaze coming back down, she finished, "We can both be impatient. For different reasons." She didn't elaborate on that. Just said, in a change of subject, "Would you care for some ice cream before we stop at the grocery? The store's still a few blocks away. The ice cream shop is closer." She let go of his paw and pointed: The South Bend Chocolate Company. They had ice cream. Not just chocolate, but all kinds.
"Isn't that a little bit frivolous? I mean, it's ... we're on a budget," he went, ever-concerned about such things. They were both going to college while living down here. And both working as much as they could in the meantime. Jobs on or around campus. In the student services office, or in the student center. Sometimes restaurants, even (though not right now). Stuff like that.
"Ice cream is never frivolous," was Aria's certain response. "Besides, I come from the snow. I am a snow," she insisted, "rabbit. Remember?"
Ross shyly smiled. "I haven't forgotten."
"Then you know I am very fond of sweetly-chilled things ... and, if you wish to save money, we could buy one cone instead of two?" She began to eye-smile as she said this.
"You wanna share a cone?"
"Is there a problem with that?"
"No, uh ... well, I don't know." A whisker-twitch, hesitating just a tiny bit.
"You've had your tongue on more parts of my body than I can name," Aria said, without embarrassment. "Licking the same ice cream cone I lick surely isn't too 'germy' for your fastidious and tidy compulsions to allow?" She was, as she said this, notably dilating. Her pupils were. Dilating. In furs, one of the clearest symptoms of arousal.
" ... I, uh ... " The mouse weakly cleared his throat, whispering, "I can share a cone with you. Uh, I'm not that fastidious. I kiss you a lot, don't I? I like kissing?"
"You do like kissing. Very much," the snow rabbit agreed. A slight mew of contained mirth. "But you are still very picky when it comes to your food. I've noticed you're less concerned with 'tidiness in bed' ... than 'tidiness in your food.' You are very tidy when it comes to your eating habits." The mouse, before he ate almost anything, would sniff at it. Sniff, sniff. Sniff at it, and tentatively touch his tongue to it, as if testing it. And, then, ultimately, would begin his nibbling. Careful, tidy nibbling. Always going at it slowly. He was never one to gulp or take big chews.
" ... darling," he insisted, "I'll share an ice cream cone. Like, why would you think I wouldn't?"
"I didn't say you wouldn't. I am simply asking if you wish to?"
"I don't have a problem with it," was his answer. "I'll lick what you lick. I'll suck on your muzzle right now and then lick your ice cream cone after you do, and ... whatever you want, okay," he went, blabber-mousing, and starting to stumble over his words. In a hot, flustered, summery way. "You, uh ... don't have to, uh, tease me." Surely, it had to be hotter than 87 degrees. It had to be 90, at least. He eyed the shades and shadows cast by some trees that were 'planted' here and there.
"You know I cannot help myself. I enjoy," she whispered, admitting it outright, "making you flush and blush. Making you wriggle. I like making you flustered."
A weak, swallowing nod. Looking back to her and whispering, " ... b-because, uh, once you get me flustered, it gives you an excuse to un-fluster me?" His eyes wide and his voice innocent.
"Exactly. Unfortunately, there are public decency laws that prevent me from 'un-flustering' you right now. I shall have to wait until we're back in our apartment." A head-tilt, and a slight, brow-raised nod. "Mm." She licked her lips and looked to the chocolate shop. "Shall we, then? A vanilla cone? I know you prefer vanilla." The way she said that ...
... made the mouse blink a bit. What was that supposed to mean? Whiskers twitching and hot all over, he just nodded and followed her into the ice cream shop, thin, ropy tail trailing behind him and almost getting caught in the door. Which made him squeak and stick very close to Aria. There was no mistaking, even if you didn't know them, that the snow rabbit was the dominant partner in their mate-ship. Ross being submissive to her. When it came to instinct and personality. It wasn't like he was a waif, though, or that he wouldn't ever take initiative with her. When it came to their breeding habits, he topped her well over half the times they did it. He would gladly do the traditional 'male' things. But, all the same, the snow rabbit was the clearer instigator. Always leading, stringing him along. More so than he strung her. They were comfortable with that arrangement. Maybe it was the 'reverse' of the normal male-femme dynamic, but neither of them found it odd. Maybe their respective families did, though. But that was another issue entirely.
After they'd gotten their ice cream cone, they wandered away from the Circle, past the Chase Tower and the Regions Bank building, a block. Another block. Moving toward the 'Marsh,' which was a little grocery. The only grocery downtown. They weren't going to get a whole lot. Just things like carrots, celery. Milk. Grapes. Rice. Healthy things. Oh, and a bottle of white wine. Or two bottles, maybe.
Aria, holding the ice cream cone with a napkin, so that the melting, dribbling cream didn't sticky-up her prim, pretty paws, licked a little circle around the top of the cone. The ice cream was a very rich kind of vanilla. Maybe French vanilla. It was very crisp, very clean, very good. Vanilla always had that airy, mellow taste to it. It was very gentle. Sort of like my mouse, Aria thought, with a private eye-smile. Taking a few more licks before handing the cone over to Ross.
The mouse, carefully taking it as they walked along the sidewalk, sidestepping furs who were moving in the opposite direction, made the flustered comment, " ... you, uh ... look, don't think I don't know how you're licking that cone. That's not how normal furs eat ice cream."
"How do normal furs eat ice cream?" Aria wanted to know. Her tone more sultry than not. There was simply no dousing the 'horny' in a rabbit. You could breed 'em silly, and it would just come right back in a few hours. They were insatiable, incorrigible. They certainly had the reputations. Ross had always assumed, before meeting Aria, that all those things had been stereotypes. But he could safely say that they totally weren't.
And he supposed that, ultimately, he shouldn't complain about Aria's 'appetite.' What a thing to lament! You should be writing poems celebrating rabbits. You should stroke her all over. You should savor her. Enjoy her. Flustered, his thoughts beginning to wander, the mouse assured himself that 'I do enjoy her.' Very, very much. And he didn't mind that she was always 'in a mood.' Or that she had very little modesty to speak of, basically. It was just that he, himself, did have modesty. A lot of it. And, in public, when others were watching, it was a little overwhelming, sometimes, to try to maintain his 'mousey politeness' while (at the same time) trying to absorb and react to Aria's relentless advances. In private, sure, she could flirt him horizontal whenever she wished. He'd not hesitate. But it was different in public. Mouses had a reputation for being very religious, very innocent. And he was, indeed, a devout Christian. And the fact that he'd not married another mouse, or even another rodent? That he'd married a rabbit? Rabbits known for their lust and secular-ness? Well, he knew that other rodents might be judging him for that, or might be staring, or might be ...
" ... Ross?" Aria went, gently removing the ice cream cone from his paw. "Are you going to eat this? Or let the sidewalk-ants have it, instead?"
"Mm?" A hot, ear-flushing blink. Hearing a few car motors rumbling by. A bus or two stopping at a 'bus stop.' A few solitary trees, like green islands, rustling in the soft, soft breeze. And the war memorial park, not too far off, offering more greenery. Grass, even. Whole stretches of it. It looked like an oasis amidst the rest of the scenery.
"You were 'zoning out'," she said, patiently. With warmth to her tone. She was used to his actions and reactions. There wasn't anything he could throw at her that she couldn't deal with. She knew mouses. Before meeting and marrying him, she hadn't. But, oh, now she did. Oh, no mistake. And that 'mousey-ness' had rubbed off on her in more ways than one. She had, through him, become a Christian herself. Her faith may not have been as emotional as the mouse's, but she did believe it in her heart. And though her species' practice was to 'open-breed,' she had married him. And wasn't planning on hopping away. Ever. So, for as much as she'd 'loosened' him up a bit, he'd 'reigned' her in just as much.
They were truly each other's fire and ice.
Ross, blinking a few more times, seeing they'd reached another street-crossing, let out a deep-breath, whispering, " ... you need water?"
"Why?"
"Uh, cause it's hot?" He was always worried about her. Wanting to tend to her all the time, make sure she was comfortable, make sure she was okay. Cause of his 'mousey anxiety,' maybe. "Mm?"
"I could use some, yes. But I can wait until we reach the grocery." Snow rabbits, coming from a cold climate, didn't last as long in the heat. They dehydrated twice as quickly as normal furs. Aria's forehead-fur and paws (white-furred, with charcoal pads and blunted claws) were already damp with sweat. Her tank-top clinging to her belly. Her jean shorts more tight than loose, when it came down to it. But not overly tight or anything.
Ross was clearly taking this in, with eyes looking down.
"I am up here," Aria said, with an eye-smile. A paw to his chin. Gently lifting his gaze.
"Mm?" Another blink, eyes coming from her clothed, supple hips. To her own eyes. "I'm s-sorry. I, uh ... it's really hot today."
She removed her paw from his muzzle. "I'd noticed. I am working up a sweat," she whispered. Again, with 'suggestiveness.' So much of what she said could be taken to have two meanings: the normal, clean, intended meaning. And an implied, sexual meaning. Did rabbits do that on purpose? Or were they just so sensual that they couldn't help but speak like that?
" ... so, you do need water?" he stressed.
"You look like you could use some, as well," was the observation.
"Uh, we can ... " He cleared his throat. " ... there should be a water fountain under the balcony of that bank there? When we cross the street?"
Aria, looking, gave a nod. She saw it. And gave another lick of the ice cream cone. " ... you think," she said, licking her lips, the cream evident on her pink tongue-tip, "you can handle it this time?"
"The ice cream?"
"Mm-hmm." It came out almost as a rabbit-purr. Her poised, puffy bobtail, like a cotton-ball of white, tear-drop shaped fluff sticking above her rump, flickered like the hottest of holy-white flames. Flicker-flicker!
Ross's eyes slightly moved, slightly. To the corner. To catch that tail.
Aria saw this.
Cheeks so hot, he tried to pretend he hadn't been looking. "I can handle the ice cream," he assured, maybe with more force than usual. As if trying to hide his sudden, melting vulnerability to her. But, then, wasn't he always vulnerable to her? He was a gentle, emotional creature, so soft. So full of finesse. Always innocent. No matter what happened, no matter how bad things got, that innocence was somehow maintained.
" ... if you say so," was the snow rabbit's restrained, playful response. With such a level, calm tone. As she handed him the ice cream cone. "The napkin is starting to soak with cream."
"I'll be careful." He nodded, and saw that the street-sign showed a tailed figure in motion. "We can walk," he said, and he licked at the cone, leveling the ice cream off with the cone's top. And then digging his modest tongue in, in, creating a little dip, a recess into the cone.
Aria, grabbing his tail and tugging him along, noted, " ... it is interesting."
"Mm?" The mouse, as they reached the sidewalk near the bank's balcony, looked up. Cream-drops on his whiskers. They twitched off in the hot, glinting sunlight. Twitch-twitch.
"When I had the cone, I was licking the ice cream in a circle. Into a point. When you got the cone, you immediately began to dig into it ... to create a hole to lick into."
" ... wait a minute," the mouse went, severely flushing. His ears went beet-red. " ... wait. What are you saying. I'm just eating ice cream!"
"Consciously, yes. Subconsciously ... "
" ... no, no. I was not pretending that ... " He lowered his voice, looking around, his tail snaking in Aria's paw. " ... I was just eating ice cream."
"As was I." A head-tilt, and an unmistakable eye-smile. "I just wonder: can it be sheer coincidence that we both ate the cone as we would eat ... "
" ... Aria," was the very shy squeak.
" ... each other?"
"Aria, that's ... mm ... " A deep exhale, whiskers tingling. His throat felt suddenly dry.
"Water?" was all she said, clearly loving this. Loving the state she'd gotten the mouse into. He was twitching all over, so hot, so full of wriggles and squirms. Eyes wide, ears pulsing with heat. Oh, she could just pin him to a wall and ...
" ... y-yeah. Yeah, water." A swallow. He shyly, insistently handed the ice cream cone back to her. And she, in turn, let go of his tail. "You can finish it. I can't."
"Not hungry?" she asked, raising a brow as she took the remainder of the cone.
"I shouldn't eat too much sugar. Sugar and heat and mouses ... I might scurry up a skyscraper. I'm worked up enough as it is."
"Not quite enough," was the snow rabbit's whisper, as she succulently finished the ice cream.
Ross just shook his head, trying to calm down. Goodness! Calm down. Please. Please, he repeated. As he went for the water fountain, hunching over it. Closing his eyes and letting the cool liquid drench his lips, suckling it up. Suckle, suckle. His tail snaking behind his rump as he drank.
Aria, hips slanting a bit, her weight focused on one side, tilted her head. And drank in the mouse's trim, healthy back-side as he drank the water.
Re-hydrated and cooled off (slightly), Ross stood and began to turn around.
Aria straightened her posture as he did so.
The mouse blinked.
"What?" the snow rabbit asked. Having finished with the ice cream.
" ... what were you doing?" the meadow mouse asked, whiskers twitching.
"Waiting for you to finish." An eye-smile, as she brushed past him. Taking a much longer drink than he'd taken. She needed more water.
And Ross, as his wife took her turn at the fountain, squinted, looking around the hot, busy streets of the capital city. And he began to notice ... " ... Aria," he went.
" ... yes?" was the mewing response, as she finished drinking. A heavy, relieved sigh. She felt much better, now. With cold water. It really helped. Another sigh, her waggle-ears waggling atop her head, and her bobtail giving a few flickers.
" ... like, I swear, you're ... you're drawing attention."
"Meaning?"
"Like, we're walking, or we're standing here, and other male furs are, like ... like that wolf, and that bull ... " He pointed discreetly. " ... they're like 'there she goes, look at that rabbit, look at her tail'."
"Are you saying I am being ogled?" There was a certain amount of level amusement in the snow rabbit's controlled tone. "Snow rabbits are very rare in Indiana. I am probably the only snow rabbit many of these furs have seen in person. That is why they are staring."
" ... maybe." That made sense. Sort of. But the mouse wasn't convinced. And had to shake his head and say as much. " ... I'm saying the way you move your body? That's what it is. These aren't 'hmm, curious!' stares. These are, like, 'hmm, hot!' stares."
A mew of mirth. "Ross ... "
"Aria, I'm serious."
"And?" A raised brow.
"And what?" A blink. A whisker-twitch.
"What do wish me to do about it? I am a rabbit. My sensuality will seep through, regardless of how much poise I possess." A head-tilt. "Are you jealous?"
"What? No. Why would I be? I ... "
" ... am sleeping with me?"
"I'm your husband," he said, more politely. Swallowing. "I have you ... "
" ... about four times a day?"
" ... in my arms," he corrected, more flustered by the second. Oh, there was going to come a point where he just flopped over and twitched with cuteness overload here. Pure cuteness overload. And heat exhaustion. As bashfully worked up as he'd become during this city walk. "In my arms, beside me, every day. If other males want to admire you, then ... you know, fine. You're very, uh ... beautiful. Your pelt so snowy-white and soft, and your curves, and ... your breasts," he breathed, almost swooning as he said 'breasts.' "I mean, how can furs not look? I guess you're right. You can't do anything about it. And, furthermore," he added, as if to confidently end the matter, "I'm not jealous."
"Then why bring it up?" was the cheeky counter, after a few seconds of silence.
"Because I'm, uh ... mouses are very tidy. Organized. Details. I notice things, details, things ... I'm very observant." He smoothed at his t-shirt, which was a bit damp. And sticking to his fur. He couldn't wait to get back to their air conditioned apartment and strip it off. With her. "Anyway," he continued, halfway meeting her gaze. With such a gentle shyness. "They only want you for your body. I want you for your body and," he added, with such raw genuineness, "your mind and soul, and ... and your heart."
Aria was caught off-guard by that. Not that she should've been. He said things like that all the time. He was a hopeless romantic. Most mouses were the types of creatures to whirl about, dreamily tumbling in passionate poetry. But, still, him having just said that? She'd expected him to keep on with the flustered blabber-mousing. Which was fun. But, instead, he'd gone right for the poignant 'point' of it all: he was the male who loved her. And his intent was pure. And when others looked at her with impure intent? He felt like he had to protect her, somehow. And if he could best do that through romantic, touching prose, through words, through whispers, through telling her? Then that's how he'd do it. He certainly wasn't afraid to share his feelings. Sometimes, he could be like a raw nerve, so full of emotion that it was overwhelming. Aria fed off that. He was, in many ways, 'feeling for the both of them.'
" ... darling? I, uh ... I'm sorry if I was being silly, or ... "
" ... no," she whispered. "No, not at all." Still at a whisper, and putting her paws on his sides. And closing her eyes for a moment. Before reopening them. "The heat of this day cannot thaw me enough. The heat of lust? No. But your love ... does thaw me. Makes me feel things that, otherwise, would be completely lost to me." A breath. "Sometimes, I may take that for granted. But there are moments when you say something, or I faintly, faintly feel something that I can't quite understand ... " She took both of his paws, and held them. And eye-smiled as she told him, ultimately, "Your 'mousey-ness' makes my 'rabbity-ness' more meaningful. A muzzle-ful, I know, but ... " Her lips to his forehead, his matted forehead-fur. Exhaling there, kissing. A little kiss there, and her nose breathing of his head-fur. That earthy, mousey scent. " ... it is the truth." She swallowed and pulled back.
Ross just bit his lip, smiling shyly. Warmly. " ... uh, m-my ears look like they're sunburned, don't they?"
"You are blushing profusely, yes." A mew of subtle mirth. " ... but I applied sun lotion to all your exposed 'fleshy' parts before we began our walk," she said, of his ears and tail. Mouse-ears and mouse-tails were so delicate. They could burn easily in the sun and freeze quickly in the cold. Not having fur, they had no protection from the elements. They had to be treated with great care. Especially the ears, what with them being erogenous. You certainly didn't want to have any of your erogenous bits feeling uncomfortable.
"The grocery. We, uh, still have to make it there," Ross eventually breathed, squinting in the hot sun. Which was climbing, its rays bouncing off the glass skyscrapers, reflecting all over. To the streets, which were absorbing the heat. In the countryside, the grasses and trees would break it all up. Make it cooler. Even if it was hot, you could still breathe. Here, in this cacophonous jungle, everything bounced back upon itself. Everything was trapped. Everything was stuck and suffocating. Most everything, at least, except for the mouse and snow rabbit's love, which was stronger than pollution, stronger than noise, stronger than sweltering pavement. It was a flower surviving where no soil was to be found.
"Yes," Aria simply breathed, in response to her husband's statement. "But, if I may say? That we make our shopping quick? I am very hot, and very," she said, "bothered."
"Is that like flustered?" Ross asked, wide-eyed, with cute innocence. His voice so wispy.
"Mm-hmm. Just like ... so, while I 'un-fluster' you, you can 'un-bother' me. But we must grocery-shop first."
"Yeah. Yeah, uh ... well, we don't need that much, right? Carrots ... "
" ... carrots," she echoed.
"Wine."
"Wine," she breathed, nodding, again repeating his words. "A few things," she went, nodding. "I think we shall be having each other for lunch, so we needn't plan for that. But we'll need something for supper. And food to last us the week." They could only afford to make one grocery trip a week. And, even then, they couldn't afford to go overboard and get too many 'non-essentials.' And they were both healthy eaters, so it wasn't too much of a problem. It wasn't like they went out and bought chips and cookies and sodas. " ... so, I suppose we should get walking again? Or scurrying? Or hopping? Whatever we're in the mood for?"
Ross nodded. "Yeah." A sigh. "Yeah, uh ... sounds about right." A squeaky, chittering nod, whiskers all a-twitch. They were close to the grocery. It wasn't that far. But his mind, admittedly, was already skipping ahead, anticipating the moment when ...
... they were, forty minutes later, back home, at their small (cozy like a mouse's den) fourth-story apartment. Slightly to the west of Downtown, overlooking the modest, Hoosier skyline. Fumbling for the keys, which clink-clinked. Clinked.
" ... y-you ... other key," Aria panted, nodding. Ears twiddling. " ... t-that's the mailbox key. Other key," she kept saying, licking her lips repeatedly. To the point where she almost didn't know she was doing it.
The mouse, with soft, squeaky pants, his heart hammering in his muddy-furred chest, nodded. " ... I know that," he managed to say, bashfully. "Just got, uh ... "
" ... carried away?"
A nod, a nod, getting the right key. Slipping it into the lock. And, oh, was he a bad, bad mouse for thinking that the key sliding into the lock was reminiscent of something he wanted to do to Aria right now? He sucked air, squeakily. And turned the key. Turned the door handle, too, pushing the whole thing open, allowing both of them to breathlessly stumble (while 'inadvertently' bodily bumping) inside.
The air conditioning felt so, so nice, so cool. Like the feeling of jumping into a chilled pool of water on a hot day? That kind of relief? That's what it felt like to plunge into the air of their apartment. Delightful shivers, all over, both of them so hot. The air nice and not. The combination liable to spawn cyclones of animal instinct.
Their bare foot-paws, slightly sweaty, almost slid on the tiled floor around the entrance. The tile wrapped round to the 'kitchen area.' There was no separate kitchen. The kitchen was just one wall of the living room, part of which was carpeted. The bedroom had carpet, too. But none of those details mattered right now, did they?
The paper grocery bags rumpled and wobbled, filled with bread, fruits, vegetables. Filled with things that appealed to the nose. But their appetites wouldn't be satisfied with mere food. They were wildly hungry for something that wasn't available at any known grocery store. Eventually, they set the bags down on their small, square table. Kind of wanting to leave them there for the time being.
"D-does anything need to be ... be refrigerated," Ross asked, airily, "that badly?" He didn't wanna sort through all of this right now. He wanted to get naked. Maybe that was crude. But, goodness, wasn't a mouse allowed, now and then, to be wildly hot and sweaty? In the name of love, certainly, but also driven by instinctual forces he couldn't deny? Weren't you allowed sometimes, to not just be 'worked up' but 'extra, extra worked up?' What was so wrong about that?
" ... it's fine," Aria insisted. "None of it will spoil. It's ... it'll be," she went, lifting her arms, peeling her tank-top off. She tilted her muzzle to the ceiling, eyes closed. Clear whiskers giving a singular twitch. Dropping the article of clothing and feeling Ross's paws immediately go to her exposed, soft belly. Her furry-white pelt, his fingers splaying, sliding up, up, down. Down. And wrapping around, shuffling, sliding with her. They bumped into a wall. Bump-a-bump. Slide, slide. Bump. The snow rabbit mewed, arms around his neck, hips grinding to his.
" ... s-sorry," Ross panted, exhales washing over her neck. The side of her neck.
"Don't be," she managed, breaths short. Shaking. Stolen, then, by a kiss. A full-on, lip-locking kiss. Which made both of them close their eyes. Muzzles pressing, sliding a little bit. A smack-smack. And deep breaths. And another kiss. Heads tilting as they did it, and suckling on each other's lips, and ... and her p-paws hooking beneath the band of her husband's jean-shorts, sliding around, around. To the front. To the button, which she fumbled with, and the zipper ... a-and a breath. Deep breath! Kiss broken. His shorts ...
... coming down. His shorts were coming down. He wriggled his hips to assist her, panting. Her saliva still on his lips. A shimmy, a shake, and trying to kick the clothes the rest of the way off.
A grateful nod, hooking her fingers, now, beneath the band of his white, cotton briefs. While, at the same time, the mouse was unhooking her bra. They were still against the wall, and half-naked, now, when the snow rabbit panted, " ... the d-door. We didn't lock the door, did we?" She couldn't remember. She didn't think they had. And when you lived in the city, in an apartment building, and were about to be making noises that carried through walls, it was best to have your doors securely locked.
A whimper-squeak from the mouse, nodding. Nodding, and inching away from her. Loathe to pull away from her sultry, soft-furred touch, her poise, her elegance. Her heat, her mews, her scent. But, somehow, for a few seconds, he managed to move off. Scurrying to the door, almost stumbling. Lock it, lock it, lock it.
Aria, knees wobbling, licked her lips again, sniffing once or twice. Turning her head to look into the bedroom, where the blinds were closed and the bed was in half-shadow. " ... bed," she went. "Let's get in bed."
" ... I n-need to get your pants off first," was the desperate whimper-squeak. In the process of unbuttoning her own jean shorts, pulling her zipper down. He almost held his breath as he began to tug her panties off, too. Removing everything. Dropping to his knees like a needy mouse, muzzle meeting her lower belly, where he tilted. To mouth, mouth wetly, saliva stringing all across her furred hips. Roundabout to her thighs. Oh, such soft, warm thighs. He could smell it, now. Her femininity. Her sex. It was moist and hot and hidden between those pressed-together legs and ...
" ... b-bed," was the snow rabbit's sultry, gentle command, having managed to reel in the mouse's tail. She gave it a harmless tug. Like pulling the reigns on a horse.
The mouse, already sucking, mouthing on the thicker, tufted fur that covered her mons, squeaked. A squeak. Tail tugged again, rump pulled back in the gentlest of ways. He panted and finally raised his head, looking up but unable to fully focus, pleading, "I wanna eat your ... "
" ... you will."
He nodded. Trying to stay calm. Trying to stay civil. But, oh, he was an extremely worked up mouse. Full of squeaks. This was 'swoon-ful-ness' out of control. Something to be experienced.
" ... you will," was the panting repeat. "Get ... g-get on your back in bed, darling." Her head was spinning. " ... come on," she urged. Her bobtail flicked urgently. "We're breeding," she said bluntly, being all rabbit.
A nod, a nod, weakly standing. " ... whoa." Wobbling, stumbling. Maybe crawling? He got into bed somehow. Most male furs only had their blood go to their penis. Ross's was going to his mouse-hood and his two big ears. Which is why male mouses were vulnerable to dizziness during sex. They didn't get dizzy every time. Maybe only a quarter of the time it would happen. " ... is ... is the walls moving?" he asked weakly, head sinking into a pillow.
"'Are' the walls moving," Aria corrected, paws sweaty, body primed and aching to be filled. " ... n-no, they aren't. Your blood is being outsourced from your brain ... "
" ... oh," Ross went, eyes half-open. "I g-guess that's why I feel tipsy."
" ... that," Aria admitted, finding her breath, "or our passion is simply intoxicating. Which I believe to be the case."
A sweaty-furred nod. "Me, too," he whispered, his voice breaking just a bit. For no real reason other than he felt such strong, strong emotions right now. So much. For her. Because of her. And he thought, hazily, of putting the key in the lock. Just a few minutes ago, to get in their apartment. And how he couldn't get the image out of his horny head. " ... I gotta be in you," he blurted. "I gotta."
"I know. I know," the snow rabbit breathed, crawling over him, heart beating passionately in her hanging breasts. And Ross lightly pawed at those breasts. At the nipples he'd sucked so many times. At the soft, wobbling mounds. "You wish to be in me?" was her repeat, putting her nose to his. Nose-nuzzling, him all sniffy. Her not as much.
"Mm-hmm." A nod, head-fur rustling on the pillow. Paws retracting some.
"I thought you wanted to eat my ... "
" ... I do!" he insisted, cutely. Biting his lip.
"Well, I would just assume, then, that I'll receive the benefits of your muzzle first, and your mouse-hood second? A-acceptable?" she panted, ears flushed. Hot to the charcoal tips.
Another nod.
" ... mm," she went, from the throat. Raising herself up, scooting, scooting. Naked atop of him, her body brushing against his in many not-so-subtle ways. Her bare thighs, hips, belly. Her tail poised behind her. The weight of her, and how they were both sinking into the mattress a little bit. How, by opening her legs to move, she'd been forced to expose her pretty vulva. How she almost purposely sank her hips to run the flesh of it through her husband's pelt. Ross relished those simple sensations. And trailed his fingers to her rump, holding the cheeks, paws gripping. Gripping her behind.
The snow rabbit, rump groped, nodded. Nodded. For the past few minutes, she'd been doing her best to maintain control. But, oh, she couldn't keep it up. Now that they were both in the fur, and she had her husband flat on his back? He was feeling up her furry behind and wriggling beneath her? Oh, the sheer heat of this June day had no choice, faced with all this, but to boil itself into a blissful release of sexual steam. Which would, in the rarified air of their passion, rain back down upon them in the form of mutual love.
Starting with his tongue.
Prompting her to sigh. The first of many sighs.
That modest, wet tongue of his probing like a familiar presence through her petal-lips as she went to an all-out straddle of his muzzle. As she gripped the headboard of the bed. With both paws. Lowering her head and closing her eyes and letting him do his thing. Male mouses had a propensity for wanting to stick their muzzles between femmes' legs. Ross was no exception. He was drawn to her sex, as if drawn to honey. Her honey-pot. Giving it tentative licks. Always shy at first, trying to get a gage of the taste, the temperature, the texture. And then more adventurous 'glides' of his tongue, deeper dips, parting through her vulva, the labia, deeply licking up, up through her pink-ness, which positively pouted with heat, which had the scent of moistness. Dripping stray drops of wet. Arousal. Her natural lube.
All of it drawing the mouse's tongue lower, lower, to the entrance of the vagina. His favorite place. He almost held it in reverence. And, sure enough, he licked with a comfortable tenderness. He'd done this before. He'd do this again. To receive pleasure by giving her pleasure. Licking, lovingly licking, just like he'd licked the ice cream cone from earlier.
She, exhaling, raised her hips by an inch. Maybe two. And then, taking a deep, shaky breath, lowered them back down. Swallowing and gripping the headboards tighter. A soft whimper-sound of approval.
And the mouse, encouraged by this, kept going. Wanting more. He wanted to mix his saliva with her natural taste, wanted to lick all around. And then suck and lip-nibble up her slit, and kiss inside it, then slip his lips over her clitoris and press at it with his tongue-tip, and then suck at it, and then ...
... all of these things. His mind swam as his instinct took over the formulation of this spontaneous 'lovemaking' plan. Shifting methods, lazing his tongue, breathing, tilting his muzzle to kiss and suck here, and to dig into there.
Aria felt all this in a hot, summery blur. The pleasure not crisp and clear. Not a winter pleasure, nor a spring or fall pleasure. It was dreamy. Hazy. Sweaty summer sex. Overflowing with the promise of life and love.
He used his bumping muzzle so tenderly, pressing to her more, more. Easing. Pressing again, dragging that tongue, always going back to her clitoris. Always, he ended up there, until he simply stayed there and assaulted her precious part with tiny, little flicks of his tongue, little grazes of the lips, little directed jets of breath, and eventual suckle-sucks.
Suckle-suck, suck.
Suck.
The rabbit, already having been worked up (for quite some time), couldn't last any longer, succumbing to his eager, appetizing ministrations, suddenly arching and mewing in orgasm. Little cries of pleasure, pleasure. Pleasure. How did anything feel like that? Oh, g-gosh. Huge flutters and tremors deep within her loins. Seeming to wrack her, tremble her. Trembling. Her paws trembling, toes curling. Like a force had been unleashed. " ... o-oh. Oh! Uh ... " Drawing air, she slumped a bit. " ... oh."
The mouse, all the while, feeling her writhing. Holding to her hips. Clutching, getting the dripping nectar that dribbled out in little, little squirts from her intimate parts. As she came, as her walls clenched. It was almost intoxicating. Not even almost. It was. Was. Intoxicating. The taste and scent of her beautiful essence. His ears were already gorged, and his mouse-hood intensely hard. And he wore, for a few, breathless moments, an actual 'pussy-eating grin.' Oh, gosh, he loved doing this. He licked his lips and sighed heavily. Still tasting her. Fiercely so. But the grin soon faded to 'down to business' seriousness as his attention was recalled.
As Aria, still reeling, began to move. Positioning herself above him, lifting up, up, bobtail flicking. Flicker-flicker! Right before she lowered to a straddle of his waist, expertly sinking down upon the length of his five-inch, circumcised penis, which was drooling steady streams of pre from the swollen, blunted head. And which simply disappeared inside her hot body.
" ... m-mm, m-hmm," the mouse moaned, from the throat. Such silky, searing-hot softness, snugging all around his sensitive flesh. So perfect a fit, so succulent a pleasure. It was hard to deal with. He could only make a few sounds and give a wriggle. It rendered him momentarily helpless as he got over the first 'shock' of delight.
The snow rabbit was in no mood to play it slow, though. Immediately, she began to rise, to steer her hips in a clockwise fashion, slowly up, up, and slowly down. Gyrating and then grinding down to him. Almost steering his stiffness, ensuring it brushed ever millimeter of her vaginal walls. Ensuring that those walls, in turn, brushed ever part of his shaft. She needed his seed. She had to make him give it. She began lifting and falling. In a singular bounce, which she then repeated, repeated, until she had a steady rhythm. Simply bouncing on him. Huffing as she did so, antennae-ears flopping, bobtail flicking. One of her paws reaching for one of his, and guiding it to her clitoris. She wanted him to rub it as she bounced. Please, please rub it. She tugged with gentle desperation at his paw. Please.
A weak, weak nod, squeaking for breath, and doing so. Gladly doing so. His other paw now on one of her hips. Where it weakly clutched at the fur, feeling her rhythms, the movements of her muscles. Rabbits had excellent lower body strength. With big foot-paws and legs made for loping and hopping. Which meant, when Aria was straddling him like this? She was gripping him and squeezing him and grinding into him with a passionate force. This wasn't a weak, barely-pressing contact. This was a solid mesh of her body to his. Careening forward, faster. There was no stopping this. There was no making sense of it.
No thoughts, no glances, no track of time.
They simply bred like animals. Married, sentient, in-love animals, but animals all the same, with wild need, mewing, squeaking, eyes shut, bodies churning and scattering the sheets, scents and pelts mingling, genitals wet and squelching, providing each other with a mutual friction, with the mutual music needed to reach the pinnacle of personal intimacy and knowing. The culmination of romance. It was breathlessness. It was a chain of happy movements. It was everything they needed to ...
... orgasm. The mouse, breath catching, almost freezing, felt it first. Tensing up, and then twitching involuntarily. Losing it with squeaky jerks. " ... a-ah! Ahn ... n-nahh, ah ... " Effeminate, airy moans, sounding out. His mouse-hood, so stiffly sensitive. Tingling. Actually tingling. It spurted, spurted, sowing steamy-white mouse-semen into his wife's womb. Each ejaculation a whole new world of punch-drunk satisfaction. Making him arch up. And then fall flat on his back, his tail limp. Whiskers drooping. Lips parted, panting, " ... o-oh. Oh," he moaned, bucking up at her. Just once more. On instinct. Little after-humps, already feeling her walls begin to massage and grip his mouse-hood for all it was worth. And he stopped moving, now, only able to hold to her hips and whimper-squeak, eyes watered weakly shut.
Feeling the onset of her second climax, the snow rabbit involuntarily rabbit-barked. A sound that bounced around the room. No doubt heard through the walls. As she was hit, once more, by quaking tremors. Stronger this time. Fuller. They felt richer, deeper. Causing the mouse's sac-fur to get soaked. Sensations that flung pleasure to her extremities. Flushing her so severely, like heat had welled up inside her and was steaming out, making her nipples hard, making ... m-making ... " ... m-mew! M-mm!"
Weak, squeaky breaths.
Toes touching toes.
His paws going back to her rump (where they'd started out). Groping it, eventually stroking her tail as only a lover would.
Her ears bent over from the heat. As she licked her lips and massaged her husband's muddy-brown chest, feeling it rising, falling with his breaths. Feeling his heartbeat. She put a paw over his heartbeat.
And, as a minute passed, and another, the blur from before began to fade. Reality becoming clearer, more focused. They regained their composure. As the blood returned to where it was supposed to be. As their breaths came back. As she 'dismounted' from him and flopped to her side, white, sticky semen dripping down her thighs and out of her sex, getting all over the sheets and their fur. Grabbing, paws trembling with pleasant exhaustion, the water bottle they kept on the bedside stand and downing most of it. Re-hydrating herself before settling fully into the sheets, nuzzling and cuddling with him in that loopy 'afterglow' way.
This is how it should always end. However it started, be it simple, shy, subtle. Or be it, like today, hungry and animalistic? However their desire for each other started, it should always end in this shared, special silence. Where the only sounds were their inhales and exhales. And the sheets as they shifted against them. And their bodies sliding together to hug. They both knew what they'd just done. They didn't take it lightly. It was purest poetry. It was how they felt for each other in way that words could never hope to explain. It was everything mysterious and good. And, oh, they soaked it in. They glowed in it.
"I feel much ... much calmer, now," Ross eventually managed to say, speaking up quietly, whiskers gently a-twitch. "I feel so wonderful." He sighed. A tiny squeak.
"I told you I would 'un-fluster' you, didn't I?" was the warm, teasing response. Nosing him gently. Feeling less feral, more civil. Feeling like she'd both given and received something special.
A giggle-squeak from the mouse. "You did, yeah." A breath. "But, uh, I always believed you." He smiled warmly.
"I know you did," she assured, eyes closed, nose to his cheek. Sniffing at him, their whiskers brushing.
"Aria ... "
" ... yes?" she whispered.
"I love you," he mouthed, with tender seriousness, turning onto his side so he could hug her better. Bring her belly to belly with himself.
She nestled into him, touched. As always. Those words never failed to touch her. "As do I love you, as well," she responded genuinely, in that snow rabbit way. "And to think," she added, lightly, with such promise in her voice, "it is only just after one-o'clock. We have the day off. And there is still a whole day left." A purposeful pause. "I wonder what we will fill it with?"
Ross giggle-squeaked so shyly, blushing, burying his nose against her shoulder and kissing it. Kissing her there before giving a muffled, "I'm sure we'll think of something."
Of that, the snow rabbit had no doubt.