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Sweat-drops weighing down his whisker-tips, Field gave a brief back-step, a sort of half-scurry, with his bare foot-paws kicking up alfalfa and straw-dust, swirling the golden motes within the beams of sun-setting light that were slanting in through the sliding window-doors. He sucked air and held his breath, almost sneezing as he finally raised his paws and arms, in one quick, fluid motion, and took the shot, the orange basketball thrusting outward in a dim, easy arc as he jumped. Ropy mouse-tail hanging like a question mark in the hot, stale air behind him. One paw remaining raised as he stood, now, on tip-toes, holding the 'follow-through.' " ... yes, yes ... oh!" was the squeak of victory, as the ball swished right through the rim, right through the net, as if it was ... " ... nothing but air! How many feet away is this? Thirty? It didn't even hit the net!"

"It did, too," his brother muttered, unimpressed. Crossing his arms. "That was just lucky. Anyway, you were behind by, like, five points."

"No. No," Field insisted, seriously, shaking his head, posture tensing a bit. He was panting quite heavily. They were in the hay loft (or, as Field had called it since when he was little, the 'hay mountain'), having just unloaded one wagon of hay. The bales unloaded, first, onto the elevator, which chugged them up, up, and dumped them off, where the brothers would stack them. They were waiting for the next wagon to be pulled up. It was a sunny evening in July, around seven, the temperature having been in the mid-80's with little cloud-cover. The roof of the barn had absorbed the heat and trapped it in here, where there was little circulation. A breeze was blowing through the open window-doors, but it was still unquestionably stuffy.

" ... yes. You don't even know what you're ... "

" ... talking about. I do, too. That was ... that just ... " A few more pants for breath, wiping his sweat-matted forehead-fur. I could really use some water, Field thought to himself, as he continued aloud, " ... that was a million-dollar shot. I even said." A few animated chitter-squeaks.

"There's no such thing as a million-dollar shot."

"I called it, though! You heard me say that before I shot it ... " Whiskers all a-twitch, all a-twitch.

" ... yeah, but it doesn't mean anything." A head-shake. "That just ... "

" ... makes me the winner."

"No, it doesn't."

"Hey, I was winning by a lot when we started this game," Field insisted, getting very competitive. He was normally so shy and gentle, but he had a quiet competitiveness about him that, when he played games, even 'friendly' ones, sort of leaked out. And maybe flared his 'mousey stubbornness' a bit. He was very passionate about his Hoosier sports. " ... I was. I was raining down threes." There was an old, old piece of wood, a big board, nailed to the roof and side-beams near the east wall. With a hoop attached. It had been up there for nearly seventeen years, maybe. Field remembered, when he was very young, coming up here during winter nights and shooting baskets. Lit only by a single incandescent bulb in this big, dark loft, with all the hay and straw around, and the college basketball games on the static of the AM radio.

" ... then how come you stopped raining 'em down? How come I won?" his younger brother demanded, almost in a taunting, smiling fashion. Dover was the second of Field's brothers. Field, at almost twenty-four years of age, was the oldest of four children (he also had a younger sister). Dandy was the youngest brother/sibling. But he was outside, or maybe in the house. Probably being lazy.

"Uh," Field went, in a mocking, head-bobbing way, "cause I worked nine hours at the orchard before coming here and spending the last two hours unloading hay? Cause I'm tired. I had just enough energy for that first amazing volley of shots, and then ... "

" ... whatever."

" ... I trailed off. If I hadn't been working all day ... "

" ... excuses, excuses!" Dover squeaked, swatting at a fly with his tail.

" ... no! I made the million-dollar shot, so it doesn't matter, anyway, cause I win."

"There's no million-dollar shot," Dover repeated, grumpily. Almost throwing his paws in the air. "That's just what furs who are losing make up ... to, like, to make them not lose anymore."

"Hey, that's the rules. Rules is rules," Field said, insistently. "Million-dollar shot is the most difficult shot on the court, and you get one chance ... million-in-one chance to make it, and if you make it you automatically win the whole game. Cause it's worth a hundred regular shots."

"What?" Dover went, with somewhat of an exclamation to his tone. "That doesn't even make sense. And it wasn't even a million-to-one shot ... anyone can make that shot."

"Alright, then you shoot it," was the challenge. "If you make it, it's a tie. If you don't, then I still win," Field said, nodding.

"I don't need to do that, cause I already won," Dover said, scrunching his muzzle and moving past Field. Bumping into him on purpose and raising his arms to declare, "Champion of barn basketball: Dover! What an excellent game, don't you agree, Bob?" he said, faking a play-by-play announcers' call. "Why, yes, Bill, Dover clearly had the talent to outlast his opponent, who had to resort to lame trick-plays to hide how many bricks he was laying ... "

" ... you better ... " Field stifled a giggle-squeak. " ... you better stop it. I mean it ... "

" ... word has it," Dover continued, his back turned to Field as he walked away, "that Field is an expert at throwing up bricks. Maybe I can have him build the foundation to my new house."

Squeaking, Field scurried forward, not able to take such remarks. And rushed into Dover, tackling him.

Dover yelled and twitched and flailed over-dramatically as ...

... Adelaide's head poked up through the 'hole-in-the-floor' entrance to the loft. Standing on the rungs of a wooden ladder. " ... you two ready for the next wagon? All I can hear is squeaky arguing," she said, with a cheeky smile. Looking from one mouse to the other. They really weren't all that similar. But, then, Field had always been the 'odd mouse out' in his family. "I don't wanna have to throw this water on you to get you to behave." She lifted a canteen and semi-tossed it, semi-rolled it toward them. It began to roll back, being that the straw and hay 'debris' sloped toward the door in the floor, but ...

... Field stretched and stopped it, picking it up and squirting a good amount of water into his muzzle. Whiskers glistening and twitching off droplets. A few gulps and sighs. " ... mm." Another sigh. Another squirt of water before tossing it to Dover. Field, while his brother drank, began brushing the loose hay and straw off his jeans and shirt. Mouses were tidy creatures. And Field could be especially tidy, at times. He didn't mind getting dirty, but he liked to be clean. " ... eh ... almost started licking my paw-pads," he said. "To groom my whiskers."

"You lick those paw-pads, and it's gonna taste pretty bad," Adelaide guessed, chittering with mirth.

"Well, hey, I can't help but want to ... it's instinct. I gotta groom." He squirmed in place a bit.

"Mm," was the bat's only response. A throaty sound, accompanied by a nod. Her swept-back, angular ears keenly picking up her husband's breathing, as well as the bugs buzzing around up here. "Some insect thing is hovering around your ears."

"I know." A frown. "It won't go away." He paused for a moment, before joking, as only a spouse could do, "You gonna eat it for me?" Adelaide ribbed him about plenty of mouse things. It was only fair play to rib her about bat things, too. Besides, she knew how he felt about bugs as food.

"Funny, Field," she responded, smiling. Giving him a squint. "I don't eat things with stingers. That looks like a stinging thing."

"Is it? You think it is?" he went, twitching more than before, suddenly anxious. Twisting his head all about, ears swiveling. Making sure it wasn't buzzing or landing on him. "As long as it's not a wasp, though," he continued. "Those mud dobbers ... dabbers? Mud wasp things?" Several twitches. "They build those nests up here. Oh, I don't like wasps ... " His wispy, effeminate voice trailed off as he shook his head. In a little squeaky huff. So cute! Before he drew more air and added, " ... wasps are the worst." A pause, biting his lip, and then adding, "Also, sticky burrs and thistles. And wasps. Those are all the worst."

Adelaide just nodded and said, "Not gonna argue that." A slight smile. Field was being, no doubt, extra-cute right now. She couldn't quite pinpoint the reason. Maybe it was his innocent, effeminate way of speaking, or maybe the fact that he was sweaty from a day of manual labor, and she could practically imagine herself running her fingers down his chest and around his sides and sucking on those shoulders and ...

... Dover, done with his share of water, rolled the canteen back to Adelaide, who blinked and stopped it just in time. Dover didn't really say anything to her. He often didn't. Field's family was a little wary of the bat, even after all this time. She intimidated them. To some degree. And, plus, she was simply more open and more playful than they were. Field's family was very traditional and reserved and kept most of their emotions to themselves. And Adelaide and her fangs? Which were used for 'intimate' purposes? Well, very modest mouses didn't really know how to respond to her toothy smiles and attitudes. Not to mention all those 'vampire' misconceptions.

And, besides, Field was the first mouse in three generations of his family to marry outside his species. It hadn't been until he'd gotten Adelaide pregnant (three years ago) that his parents had finally warmed up to her. She'd given them their only grandchild (in Akira), after all. But the other relatives? That was a different story. But that didn't matter right now. All that mattered was ...

" ... we were playing. That's what we were doing," Dover eventually muttered, brushing at his head-fur, and then scratching one of his ears. "And Field tackled me in a fit of rage."

Adelaide chittered.

Field shook his head and cleared his throat as his tail 'accidentally' poked at Dover. Several times.

" ... will you stop," his brother complained, telling Adelaide, "He's just mad cause he lost at basketball."

" ... maybe for, like, the first time ever," Field said. "I'm just so used to beating Dover that I forgot what losing felt like. And then I realized: hey, I didn't lose, cause I made the million-dollar shot."

Dover just rolled his eyes and got up, moving off to the other side of the loft, nearer the elevator. The next wagon was probably still parked out in the field, hence the delay in unloading it. Dover had a tendency to be a bit moody, sometimes. Maybe it was because he was a teenager. Or maybe it was just his personality.

"Million dollar shot?" Adelaide asked, winged arms holding to one of the ladder's top rungs. As she looked up at her husband.

"Yeah, you've never heard of it?"

"Is that cause you just made it up?" A cheeky grin.

Field giggle-squeaked, eyes darting. And then going to hers. "Maybe." A soft, little sigh. "Anyway, I would've won fair and square if I hadn't been weeding green beans all day. And tomatoes." A pause, and a frown, telling her, "I've decided tomatoes are the stupidest plants. They're, what, fruits? Fruits, not vegetables, or ... whatever they are, I don't even care. Cause I think they're stupid. That's for sure." He wiped a paw across his pink, ever-sniffy nose, getting the sweat off. His whiskers twitched, and he held his tail for a moment before letting it go. His honey-tan fur, in the dim light, looked darker than it usually would.

" ... gonna elaborate on that?" Adelaide asked, wanting him to go on. When he did that 'blabber-mousing' thing, it was cute. It just was. The bat decided that her earlier thought had been correct: his cuteness was extra-strong today. It was really getting to her. Oh, yes, it was. Not that she minded ... " ... mm?"

"Well, like, come on. They're, like ... you know, normal plants can grow. Normal plants can be plants. Tomatoes think they're better."

A burgeoning smile. "Why's that?"

"Well ... " A huff. " ... cause they can't even stand upright. You have to put them in 'tomato cages,' and give them all this special attention, have to prop them up, and put all this stuff on 'em, and ... they're just pampered and full of it." A frown, whiskers twitching. Twitching. "I'm adding tomatoes to my 'forget about' list."

"The list with peaches at number one?"

"Peaches and tomatoes." A certified nod, crossing his arms stubbornly and raising his nose a bit, nodding again. Mousey stubbornness, indeed.

"What about pasta? Tomato sauce on pasta?"

" ... well ... that's pulverized tomatoes. They're not a threat. I'm talking, like, intact tomatoes. I won't eat those."

"You never do, anyway," Adelaide pointed out.

Field gave her a shy smile. "Are you on my side or not?"

"I'm on your side, darling, and every other part of you," was the cheeky, immediate response. "Don't you worry."

His ears went rosy-pink, and he stated, bashfully, " ... Adelaide."

"What?" she went, feigning innocence.

A shy twitch, knowing better than to fall for her act. " ... making me blush," was all he mumbled, ears swiveling subtly. "So, uh ... but, yeah," the mouse went, nodding. A tired, bewildered breath. "How was your work today?"

"Busier than before, I guess," the bat said, of her job in the nearest town's library. She leaned forward, holding tightly to the ladder-rungs. "Just cause furs are starting to go on vacations, and they like to take three or four books with them, so ... and then they ask me 'what's a good summer read?' Like for a plane, car, or the beach, or ... and I direct them to the romance section." A wink. "I mean, who wants to read something dramatic on vacation?" A pause. "But, really, I don't read all that much. I don't think either of us does," she said, nodding at Field.

" ... yeah. Well, I could never get into reading," the mouse said. "I can't sit still. I'd rather write a story myself or watch something with you, or ... you know, be outside or something, especially."

Adelaide nodded, fully knowing this. She'd been in his mind enough times to know everything. " ... but it's a little depressing. That we can't take vacations, I mean? You and me." Because, of course, they couldn't afford it. "So, I just ... you know, don't like to listen to furs coming into the library boasting about how they're gonna be spending a week lolling at 'so-and-so.' I'm, like, in my head, 'How can you afford that?' Especially with the economy. But I guess that's ... I shouldn't feel like that, I know. But part of me does," the bat admitted. "I'm very happy with our lives. I wouldn't change anything. You know that."

"I do," the mouse whispered, gently. " ... but it's alright. I understand. We never got to take a honeymoon." A pause. "But we will, someday," he said, with faithful innocence.

Adelaide had to smile. "It doesn't matter," she assured. "Just take me out into the pasture ... that's as far as I need to go to have a good time with you, okay? I'm not high-maintenance or anything." She licked her fangs.

The mouse just blushed more, hotter in the ears and warm beneath the cheek-fur, whiskers twitching as he weakly cleared his throat. "So, uh ... was that all? Just summer readers coming in?"

"Well ... " A deep breath, contemplating. " ... reading program stuff. Tried to stay away from that. Then one of the computers was acting funny. Made a whir-clunk noise. But I don't know anything about those, so ... it was working when we closed up for the day. Ketchy wasn't there today, though, so it was a bit tedious. I mean, I get along with the other furs who work there, but Ketchy's my best friend. Aside from you, of course ... " A quiet nod. " ... but she makes work less stuffy."

"Ketchy's ... "

" ... on heat leave. Two more days. She started today." A pause, before mentioning, "Mine's end of next week. Ten more days, I think." A slight chitter.

"I know ... " Field cleared his throat again. Must've been all the alfalfa dust he was breathing in. " ... feels like you just had your last one ... "

" ... three days every six weeks," she said. "Been almost a month." Femme bats had a 'heat' every month and a half, not every month (like most furs). On account of their reproductive cycles being a little slower.

Field looked around, and whispered, "Well, I guess I shouldn't call it 'your' heat. It's pretty much 'ours,' I think. I mean ... I feel every part of it. I share every bit of it when you bite me. I know how it shimmers and strikes, full of both goodness and feral, primal insanity. It's ... " A sigh. " ... I don't know," he admitted.

"It unnerves you a little," she said. Not a question, but a statement.

"A little. Yeah." A small breath. "Anyway, I'm just ... being silly, I guess. No reason to talk about that right now. Of all times and places ... "

"No, it's alright. I know your mind, remember? You're a very polite, civil mouse, and ... " A slight nod. " ... you're also a hopeless romantic. Heat-sex isn't the most romantic. It's very basic, you know. Out of control. We become more like mere animals when ... " She trailed off, trying to use the right words. " ... most males don't have to worry about that. They just enjoy the extra sex. But you have to 'feel' the burning insanity with me, and it's a little scary."

A twitching nod. Not saying anything further.

"But when we go insane, we'll go insane together. Alright?" she said, giving a reassuring smile. "Besides, in the end, it's more enjoyable than unpleasant, mm? Don't you think?"

The mouse bit his lip and tried not to smile, finally replying, " ... uh, yeah." He sighed and swallowed. "Anyway, you better make sure to take your pill. We really can't afford to accidentally ... "

" ... I know." A pause. "I'm taking it," she said, quietly. They wanted to have another baby. They didn't want their daughter to be an only child. They wanted her to have siblings. At least one or two. To have a bigger family. But, right now, financially? There was no way they could afford it. The logistics of work and savings and ... none of it would add up. They both needed to be working to stay afloat as it was, and one of them would certainly have to quit their job if they had two kids. So, they had to wait. Which was fine. The only problem was the worry of 'what if waiting turns into more waiting.' What if something came up? Right now, the mouse and bat were young, had lots of energy, were both very healthy. And loved each other so very much. Why should money, of all things, keep them from having another baby together? It almost seemed cruel. "You alright?" Field asked, twitching.

"Course." The bat smiled, taking a slow breath. And then letting it out. "It's hot up here, isn't it?"

"Mm-hmm."

Adelaide took another breath. "Just wanna hug you," she said, quietly. "But, if I do that, I'll fall off this ladder. And," she added, "if I come up there? I may not wanna come down. Doesn't heat breed passion? Or is that cute mouses?"

Field, at her warmth, relaxed and squeaked, eyes darting shyly. "Well ... " He finally looked to her. " ... I'll hug you lots later." He paused, almost caught in a tongue-twister with 'lots later.' "I've been wanting to hug you all day ... " Hugging her was so wonderful. The gentle holding, the nosy nuzzles, and how her winged arms literally acted like living, velvety blankets around him, making him feel so safe and wanted.

" ... I kind of guessed," the pink-furred bat whispered simply, in one of her 'sultry' tones. "Mm ... you're in a good mood, though," she said, pupils dilating, "aren't you." Again, not a question, but something stated. Something observed. "Just the way you're all competitive with your brother, and so chatty right now ... you got some extra scurry in you, I bet. You totally do. I can sense it."

He bit his lip. "Extra scurry?" His tail, despite his weariness, began to snake wildly, while his whiskers kept up with their usual twitching. His ears swiveling, too. And he was still panting a bit. "Well, I don't know. I do feel a bit funny. I should be wiped out, you know, but I still feel kinda ... you know, kinda, like, uh ... " He didn't wanna say it. He was too modest. " ... I feel all full of contradictions right now."

"Nothing wrong with that," the bat added. Licking her sharp, pearly-white fangs. "Extra-heady, is what you are right now. That's a more proper phrase. Extra heady. Mousey-motion overdrive."

"I, uh ... well, if that's what I am right now, then you must be extra-batty, you know. Practically flighty. Way you're whisper-kissing at me all of a sudden." His ears flooded with even more blood, turning a bit pinker, pinker. Close to rosy. But it was hard to tell in the dimness of the barn, and with him already hot and sweaty anyway.

"Whisper-kissing? Not sure what that means, exactly, but I like it. Mm ... that's a good one. Mm." A swallow. "Anyway, so we're both worked up ... no surprise. We both want the day to be over so we can be," she said, in her toothy way, "all over each other. Think we'll call that one a draw," the bat said, drinking the mouse in with her eyes. "Mm. My mouse." A pause. "My love ... " She breathed the words, just because. Because she had to. Because she wanted him to hear them. "Anyway, uh ... your parents are probably wondering where I got to. I was just was supposed to come up here and tell you to get ready for the next wagon. And bring you the water. Not start chatting. I guess I can't stay away from you, huh?"

A modest giggle-squeak. "Guess not." A deep breath. "That all, though?" Field asked. "Cause I'm sure my mother was ... "

" ... well," Adelaide said, biting her lip. "Yeah, maybe ... "

" ... demanding something. Bet she heard me and Dover arguing and sent you to tell us to 'cut it out!' ... mm?"

Giggle-chitters. "Well, it's that Boston temper. I don't know. She thought me and my telepathy ... or, as she calls it, my 'mind control,' could better quell the rambunctiousness."

"Scurry-ful-ness. Quell the ... "

A head-tilt, allowing, " ... scurry-ful-ness. Of course, of course."

"So, you're going to mind control me?" was the tease, whiskers twitching and tail snaking aimlessly.

" ... not yet," was the equally-suggestive reply. With a bit of a wink. A pause, and a swallow, beginning to descend down the ladder. And then stopping to add, "Oh, I almost forgot: Akira wanted me to tell you she found a 'toe'."

"A toe? You mean a toad?" A blink, whiskers twitching.

"She insists it's a 'toe'," Adelaide said, smiling. "She found it, then lost it. I'm teaching her how to use her 'echolocation' ... her echo-bursts, you know? So, we tried that, and she found it again, and touched it. Tried to pick it up. When it hopped, she squealed one of those glee-squeals and flapped her wings."

"Aw ... " The mouse sighed, nodding quietly. Their daughter, the mauve-furred mouse-bat, was almost three years old. And was very bold and curious. She had more of Adelaide's personality than Field's, really. She had the mouse's innocence, though. " ... well, I'll ... " The elevator, behind him, was finally turned on, beginning to chug-chug-churn, the bales moving upward. " ... I'll be down in a bit, then. I guess it'll be too late for supper."

"Mm-hmm. Well, we'll still have something ... something," she repeated, more loudly. As if making a promise. "Mm, and don't get too much alfalfa dust in your ears. Else I might have to clean them extra-thoroughly ... "

" ... that a suggestion?" The mouse swallowed, heart actually quickening at the maybe not-so-subtle promise of ear-sex. Mouse-ears were very erogenous, and when licked and nibbled and blown into just right ...

" ... seeing as it's not the least bit cold in here, I'm going to assume that's not a shiver of discomfort, mm?" the bat joked. "Wasn't a suggestion. Just a thoughtful reminder," she added, as she descended out of view, leaving Field with his muzzle open just a bit, as he panted and ...

" ... Field!" Dover shouted. "Stop being all twitter-pated. You two are so weird," the younger mouse said, of Field and Adelaide.

"We're not weird." A frown-faced objection (but not to the 'twitter-pated' part), whiskers twitching. "Anyway, you shouldn't eavesdrop on others' conversations."

"I wasn't," Dover insisted. "Are you helping me with the hay or not?" A few bales were beginning to stack up, and Dover was huff-puffing grumpily as he quickly tried to stack them four-rows high.

" ... I'm coming," Field said, sighing, clearing his throat, and padding over to the south side of the loft. True, he'd been working all day, and had been tired on and off. But Adelaide was right. He did have a little bit of 'extra scurry.' And he planned to use every ounce of it.

" ... Akira, we don't do that. No, come on," Adelaide said. " ... no, open up. I mean it, young miss." A stern tone. And then squinty eyes. "Akira."

The mouse-bat squirmed and then, at that last 'mom threat' pronouncement of her name, opened her little muzzle, and out flew the lightning bug which had been on her tongue. It hovered quickly away, wet but unharmed, glowing, dimming, and glowing again. " ... momma, I'z hung-ree!" was the whine. She arched her body, as if she was going to fall over like a rag doll. She rolled her head. " ... I wanna bugz."

"You're not getting any when you ask for them like that."

"Momma!"

"Hey." Adelaide pointed a blunt-clawed finger. "You were being so good all evening. Don't go and ruin it now. When we get in the house, we'll eat something. I promise. But we don't eat those," she said, of lightning bugs. Bats, of course, needed to eat a goodly amount of insects as part of their diet. Akira, being half-bat, needed them, too (much to Field's well-established chagrin). "Lightning bugs are bad for eating."

"Iz cuz ... uh, cuz pretty bugz?" The young mouse-bat's eyes widened.

"Cause they're pretty? Well, they are, but ... their glow-juice? Tastes bad. Tastes very bitter. And, anyway, they're very friendly, nice bugs, very romantic. Daddy would get sad if we hurt them. So, we don't eat them, okay? You got plenty of reasons not to. Take your pick."

" ... uh," was all Akira went.

" ... we can eat the crickets. Just don't let daddy see you catching any, cause he'll try and set them free." A slight smile. "How 'bout some cereal for supper, hmm? With dragonflies and blueberries?"

"Yah!" was Akira's agreement, flapping her winged arms. Flap-a-flap-a! " ... an' mash-melloh's!"

"No, you're not getting cereal with marshmallows. You're eating good cereal. Healthy cereal."

" ... oh-kay," was Akira's reluctant, sighing agreement, looking as cute as her daddy looked. That 'mousey cuteness' had been unmistakably inherited. Still a bit wide-eyed, their daughter looked around the yard. There were hundreds, thousands of lightning bugs, all out in full force, bobbing like champagne bubbles or warp-speed stars. All above the fields and pastures of the Hoosier countryside, beneath the heavens, the moon. The actual stars weren't all visible yet. It wasn't dark-dark, just dim. The sun below the horizon in the west, but its faint pink and lavender light still visible in the sky. But all of it was like a light-show accompanying the symphonic sounds of the creek-frogs and mockingbirds. It was almost too much to appreciate. Life flowing too fast and abundantly to fully register.

" ... now, come on. Up you go." Adelaide lifted Akira up into her winged arms. Adjusting her grip to hold her comfortably. "One of these days, you're gonna get too big for me to do this, you know. To pick you up like this." A sweet nuzzle to her daughter's forehead. "But let's not think about that ... let's not," she said, more for her own benefit than Akira's. "Now, where's ... daddy," Adelaide went, trailing off, squinting. "I thought he was behind us?" She looked back to their old pick-up truck in the gravel driveway. "Oh, he didn't even get out of the truck," the bat whispered, with a soft tenderness. Because she sensed, suddenly, that the mouse had dozed off. And as she and Akira padded back from the porch of the house over to the truck, it was obvious that the mouse's breathing was erratic, and that his head was slumped to the side. Adelaide put Akira down and opened the passenger-side door.

A slight squeak from Field, as he twitched, eyes reopening. Having been leaning to the side, he'd started to fall as the door had moved.

" ... you got your seatbelt on. Not gonna fall," Adelaide said, reaching over him and undoing the belt. Her voice very protective. "You alright?"

A little nod, and a stifled yawn. " ... just been a long day. I'll be fine. I just need to eat something," he insisted, voice soft. Quiet. Whiskers twitching and nose sniffing. "I'll ... I'll, uh, still have energy for ... "

... a knowing smile, nuzzling his arm, nodding. "It's alright." A kiss to his cheek. "Come on. We're gonna have cereal or something. Or whatever doesn't need cooking." It was just after nine-o'clock, and both of them had work all day tomorrow, too. Field's mother would watch Akira for them. The hay-baling, though, was supposed to be done for the week. So, maybe tomorrow would actually be less busy. And they wouldn't be working until sunset.

"The lightning bugs are so pretty," Field breathed, in his wispy, gentle voice. "It's so romantic." He leaned his head on Adelaide's shoulder as they made their way to the back porch, up the concrete steps. " ... what were you and Akira ... she tried to eat one, didn't she?" Field guessed. "I was awake enough to gather that."

"She did try and eat one. It survived. Don't worry ... "

" ... we should ... after supper, we should come back out here. To enjoy all this. I mean, the summer. I mean, like ... there's an empty wagon in the field. You know ... " He trailed, long, ropy tail snaking behind him.

" ... I know," she whispered, putting the key into the lock, opening the porch door, nudging Field into the kitchen, and herding Akira inside, too, using her winged arms like scoops. Scooping them forward. "You gonna put supper together?" she asked Field. Not that they were cooking anything right now. But, still, Field was better in the kitchen than she was. For the most part. Though Adelaide could make a mean blueberry bug muffin.

"Yeah, I'll get some stuff. You gonna give Akira her bath? I can take a quick shower after, and ... just to get less dusty and stuff."

"Mm-hmm." A nod. "Bath for her, supper for all of us, shower for you ... and beddy-bye for the bat-mouse," Adelaide said. "And 'love each other very much time' for the grown-ups."

"Mouse-bat," Field corrected immediately, at Adelaide's sneaky way of slipping 'bat-mouse' into the middle of that sentence. As if Field wouldn't notice! "She's a mouse-bat."

Akira, meanwhile, flapping her little winged arms and immediately objecting with, "Buh I's naw ... "

" ... 'tire, naw tire' ... mm-hmm. I've heard it before. You're never tired. You're the incredible 'never needs sleep' girl," Adelaide said. "By the time we get you washed and we eat, it'll be after ten, and that's your bedtime. You'll be tired. Trust me."

Field smiled shyly, sighing some, leaning against the kitchen sink for a moment, and watching them. Quietly, reveling in his wife and daughter, soaking in their presence, their life, their love. The intangible (yet, somehow, not) spiritual things that glowed brighter than all the lightning bugs put together. " ... darling," the mouse eventually whispered.

"Mm?" Adelaide, beginning to undress Akira for her bath, looked up, halfway to the bathroom (which was just beside the kitchen).

" ... I love you," was the whisper.

"I love you, too." An inaudible breath. "Very, very much ... " The reply returned, equally whispered, and equally honest and raw.

"I'm sorry I can't, uh ... handle Akira tonight. I normally would. I'm just ... "

" ... it's alright. Save your energy." A soft, little wink. "Really, it's okay. I don't mind dealing with her tonight ... just get some food out and ... "

" ... I just wanna do everything for you. I want to provide for ... "

" ... I know," Adelaide breathed, lingering and then eventually scooting Akira into the bathroom and turning on the water. And sending Field a telepathic, 'It's okay.'

"Da!" Akira called, from the bathroom, where the water had been turned on. The tub beginning to fill.

"What?" Field answered.

"I foun' a toe t'day!"

"You did?" he replied.

"An', uh, iz a ... spawts onnit ... " Akira trailed as Adelaide helped her into the tub and began to wash her fur.

The mouse, still in the kitchen, just smiled and swallowed, tired eyes watering. He didn't know why. They just did. And he opened the refrigerator and removed the blueberries. And strawberries. And milk. And went to fetch some cereal from the closet, as well as some ...

... succulent, sloppy kisses.

Delivered from him to her, out here in the field, on the wagon, the house within view across the gravel road. After Akira had been put to bed (while Field had taken a quick, two-minute shower to clean up). After supper. After all of it. Closing in on ten-fifteen at night, and both of them a little bit tired, sure, but sleep could wait. Tired eyes and weary muscles could wait. The world could always stand in line when love was so ripe and ready to be served.

He kissed her again, in that loose, lazy way, the kind of way where lower lips were sucked and saliva was strung all over whiskers. Where you could swear that intimacy had an actual flavor, an identifiable taste. Where audible smack-smack sounds became notes, and where slurps had a certain suction to them, like ...

" ... mm. Mm," Adelaide went, weakly, her paws straying up her husband's bare back. Which was facing the twilight above. She just felt him from beneath, caught in the same delirium he was caught in, everything like a dream as she laid on her own back. Atop of a few blankets. They'd brought some blankets out here so they wouldn't have to lie flat on the wood-boards. His belly, in response to her gentle writhing, went flat atop hers, fur meshing. Her paws not stopping, but not rushing, either. Simply feeling the muscles beneath his pelt as he twitched and moved with her. He was a trim mouse. Not magazine model trim, no, but a healthy rural trim that came from working outside all day. Slender, good for running her paws all over, up and down, to stroke his body 'til he squeaked like a melting mouse. Like he was gonna be a puddle beside her. The texture of his short, soft fur, and how his tail and whiskers never stayed quite still. Adelaide savored these things. As well as his earthy, mousey scent. Her nose against his neck, sniffing. Then a deep breath, followed with a sigh, winged arms tightening their hold on him.

Their clothes were off, obviously. Somewhere. Haphazardly at the side of the wagon. Some of it (Field's shirt and briefs) having fallen off the edge and into the wild grass. Easily spotted in the crescent moonlight. Though Adelaide had half the notion to just walk back to the house 'in the fur.' Unless some random car came down their gravel road at this time of night, they weren't likely to be seen by a soul. But they'd decide upon that when they were ready to go back inside. Right now, they were reveling in their shared nakedness, just getting started with their outdoor, rural firework show. The bat's pretty pink paws up to his shoulder-blades, now, not stopping this time, just sliding right up past his nape and to his ear-bases.

" ... oh," was the sudden, lingering sigh-sound, the kisses fading. His muzzle tilted aside, in a bit of a harmless daze. "Oh ... t-that's nice," he mouthed, gratefully. He twitched and swallowed, making airy noises. Nothing loud, nothing callous. Just cloud-like 'whooshes' of air, almost like whispers. In response to his wife's blunt-clawed, furred fingers pressing constantly at the backs of his big, fleshy lobes. Rubbing around in circular, massaging ways, fingers eventually splaying to cover the entire back-sides of his ears, as if 'palming' them. The mouse weakly held his breath. "A-a ... ah, A-adelaide," he managed, sighing, beginning to pant. His ears starting to gorge with blood. " ... ah," he went, a bare foot-paw stretching, toes bumping her furred ankle. His eyes screwed shut.

" ... good boy," was all Adelaide breathed, hotly, sexually. Leading him, as she often did. And having successfully worked him up. But not enough. She needed to work him up more. "There's a very ... good boy. Mm, my mouse ... just relax. Feels good, doesn't it ... " Still palming his ears, she bent her knuckles, beginning to curl her fingertips round the rims. Letting her filed-down claws move back and forth (by mere millimeters) on the upper-insides of his ears. Paw-pads making a point to make full-on friction with the backs.

Field, eyes watering beneath the lids, breath moist and rushed, felt himself being moved. "W-ha ... " The bat was taking 'advantage' of his sudden haziness to swap their positions. Nudging him off of her. A dizzy, naked squeak, his honey-tan chest heaving for breath. His penis, half-stiff, flopped about as he was rolled. The bat sprawling with him, rolling him onto his back. Fully, now. Holding him down, and then crawling on. "Thought I'd ... " A heated swallow, and a deep breath. " ... take you for a ride tonight," he heard the bat say. Her paws shifting a bit, more fully to the front of his ears, so that her fingers could slip and circle into his lobes, tracing round and round, closer to the ear-holes. But not all the way there. She was saving that for her tongue.

A weak ... w-weak nod. All while he just ... j-just ... became so, so hot. Was, am, is. I'm so hot, was all he could think. His ears searing in their sensitivity. Beet-red. The capillaries showing, and his sense of hearing heightened, to the point where it almost pulsed, pulsed. Like his heart. Hammer-hammer. Hammer. The heat from his ears beginning to 'break.' Which was when it seeped out of the ears and into his cheeks, his chest, flushing him all over. Making him begin to sweat. W-which meant ... he ... he was close ... " ... p-please," he moaned. " ... u-uh." Oh, he felt like he was burning up. His paw-pads sweaty, now, fur matted. Everything tingled. S-so good! His paws held to his wife's bare sides. Everything was ... oh, gosh. Oh ...

" ... so ... " Adelaide, too, was panting, as her dextrous bat-tongue, meant for catching bugs, expertly maneuvered into the mouse's right ear. " ... so c-cute," she sighed, going quiet as her tongue licked at the hot, pink flesh of his lobes. She imagined a 'sizzling' as her saliva touched his delicate, blood-hot ear-flesh. It really didn't sizzle, of course. His ears may have felt as hot as frying pans, but .... a slight giggle-chitter at that last thought. They were kind of shaped like pans. His ears. Like dishes. Her tongue began flicking to his ear-hole. Wriggling there. The tip touching, thrusting, and ...

" ... a-ah!" A gape, squeaking. Whiskers twitching, arching ... b-belly arching up to hers, pushing her up. But she pushed back down, keeping him pinned. Keeping him squeaking. Making him gasp again. " ... ah, ah!" His ears throbbed and tingled with pleasure. T-tingling, so, so good, so ... to the rest of his body. A shivery-hot sensation that was ... w-washing over, o-oh, oh, gosh. " ... oh, oh." Little whimpers, tail flailing like a downed electrical line, wriggling helplessly, totally bewildered. Hot, breathless. He swallowed and sucked air. From the pleasure. Oh, the ... " ... oh," he panted, fur lightly matted with sweat. " ... oh, gosh," he went, eyes finally peeking open. The tingling beginning to subside. The heat still there, but cooling slightly.

Adelaide, pushing herself up to straddle of his body, her knees and shins on the blankets and wooden wagon-boards, and her paws propping her arms above his chest, breathed a warm, " ... you're so cute when you ear-gasm." She gently thumbed at his little, male nipples. "Felt good?"

" ... mm ... mm-hmm. D-definitely." Such soft, wispy breaths. "A-adelaide ... "

" ... I know." She tweaked his nipples, now, gently.

" ... n-next time you ... " A flush and a swallow. " ... next time, wait 'til you're biting me? And, uh, y-you can feel it, too ... "

Adelaide smiled, breathing in deep, feeling a little wet between the legs. Very wet. " ... I know. We've done that before. That's not what I wanted this time ... just wanted you to relax. You do so much for me. You fawn over me," she breathed, "all the time. Shower me with romance every chance you get ... just wanted to return the favor."

A weak, lip-licking nod. Another nod. His pink nose flaring between little sniffs. " ... t-thank you," he mouthed, meeting her eyes. His own pupils fully-dilated, eyelids half-open.

"Mm-hmm," she went, gazing at him with a hot hunger.

"I wanna be wrapped ... wrapped up, a-and ... sow my seed in you," he insisted, innocently, quietly, meeting her eyes. Unashamed to be naked with her in the open, country air. Unashamed to be pinned beneath her. Unashamed to be making intimate eye contact. A slight stammer, though, as his natural shyness seeped in. " ... do I really fawn?"

"It's a good thing," she assured. "Ketchy was telling me that, when we're together in public? That it's so obvious we're married. Like, immediately obvious. That we're all over each other."

"All over each other? In public?" A blink, having finally come down from the whole ear thing.

"I told her I didn't think we were that obvious."

"I don't think we are. I mean, I ... I stay close to you, but that's just ... my mousey nature." He knew he was a bit clingy. "I'm not, like, making out with you in front of other furs."

A chuckle from the bat. "No. But, still, apparently others think differently ... " A chittering smile.

Field blushed. "Maybe that's why my brother called me 'twitter-pated' after you left the hay loft earlier? Then he said we were 'weird'. Maybe it's cause we were ... "

" ... all over each other?"

"Not physically." A pause, looking up at her. "But in words, gesture, and emotion? All that? I guess we were." A sheepish look. "I guess we always are."

"Well, we do have a telepathic bond, via me," she stated, obviously. "Mm. When others ask, we'll just tell them that our love is like the light in that Sunday School song? The one where it says not to hide your light under a bushel? We can't hide our love. It just glows and oozes out, and ... it's incorrigible. God-given and blessed. A fruitful thing." A fang-showing grin. She leaned forward, almost horizontal atop of him, and planted a kiss on his damp forehead. Whispering, "Now, enough talking. You got some seed to sow ... " She gyrated her naked hips a bit, purposely rubbing her groin, where her fur was thicker, over her husband's modest, circumcised mouse-hood. " ... mm," she went, fang-tips grazing his cheek, making the faintest contact with his twitching whiskers. As her breath washed over his chin. "I know you usually like to eat my pussy before, uh ... before the humping starts, but, uh, I already snacked on your ears, so ... and it's g-getting late. Can't have too many appetizers right now, c-can we? Main course, I think," she breathed, privately, "would be good about now. For me. Don't know ... h-how you're ... "

"Y-yeah, I think, uh ... I think so," the mouse agreed. "Main course." He sounded a bit breathless. " ... but, uh ... "

" ... you can eat it in the morning," she promised, grinning. Chuckling a bit. "Horny mouse ... muff-mouse," she teased, so hot, flooded with desire, putting her nose to his. Her nose mostly still. But his was sniffing in its small, incessant way. " ... tickles," she breathed. "Always does. So, you think so, huh, about skipping to the ... "

" ... main course. Mm. Yeah. L-let me in ... your legs ... you gotta," he panted, "open 'em, uh, w-wider. Just a ... just a bit ... "

" ... mm-hmm ... mm, I don't know about you, but that cereal didn't do enough for my," she breathed, beginning to suck on his chin, skirting his lips. And then angling back to them. " ... enough for my appetite," she finished, giving a long, lasting kiss. One that made paws grab for dear life and breaths catch. " ... mm." A smack-sound. "Seriously, if we ... if we can calm down for a moment," she panted, leaning her forehead against his. "I think we should say a little prayer first? Give thanks?" A shaky breath. "Just that we haven't prayed before sex in a little while. You know, I don't wanna get in the habit of ... of not doing that ... " A swallow. " ... I think it's important, now and then, you know ... "

" ... yeah." A breath, nodding. Licking his lips, shyly so, eyes closing as he hugged her from beneath, the mouse whispered, intimately, "Dear God, thank you for, uh ... " He paused for a moment, trying to compose himself. Both himself and the impromptu prayer. " ... thank you the abundance of life the summer brings, and how that abundance, be it in fireflies, apples, alfalfa, or romance, is a reflection of You. The Artist. And the Muse. How, in love, especially, You reside, and the beauty and poetry of it all, I, uh ... I just can't put into proper perspective." A breath, keeping his eyes closed. And hugging Adelaide down atop of him, as she hugged him from above. He was afraid he'd stutter and lose the prayer if he opened his eyes. He needed to keep going. Let it flow. Let it come from his heart.

He continued, "But Your scope, it's ... it's so far beyond me. But even if I can't word it, I can feel it. I can feel You in each breath, each star, each ... each moment, I'm grateful. For the words You left us, and the time You spent on earth, and the lessons, and the ... the sacrifice. Thank you from, uh ... from the both of us," he said, of himself and Adelaide. "For what you've blessed us with. And our daughter. She's our pride and joy. Thank you ... and, for the love we're about to make? May you bless that, as well. That we may grow closer to each other and to you through ... " A swallow, and a breath. " ... just, uh, and also, most importantly, again, thank you for our salvation and redemption, and how You conquered death, dear Jesus. You overcame the worst predator. All my fears, you assuage. Hope and life, and ... eternally, you've given us, and we thank you for that." A sighing squeak. "Um, also, thank you again for how breeding feels so good ... it feels so, so good. Thank you for letting me do it with Adelaide. Amen."

" ... amen," the bat breathed, touched by his raw words, and putting her lips very close to the mouse's ear. "That was lovely."

A flush, whispering back, " ... I was afraid I was being sappy. Or cheesy, or, uh ... "

"No," the bat insisted, seriously. "No ... it was lovely," she repeated, hugging him tighter. "And mouses have every right to be cheesy, don't they? If any furs do?" An exhale, not waiting for further words or permissions. Simply segueing right into the caressing and extra kissing, the bumping. "Mm ..." She was sucking on his cheek, now. Maybe she'd been doing that earlier. She couldn't remember. No harm in doing it again. Outright sucking, her fangs grazing his saliva and sweat-matted fur, his honey-tan fur, so warm, so soft. It was like a rising tide, or a flame flapping higher. " ... Field," she panted, winged arms wrapping around him. " ... oh, y-y ... yes ... " She nodded with a mixture of desperation and relief, raising her two-foot, rudder-ish tail, feeling the tip of his mouse-hood softly sliding across her vulva. Not entering, but sliding. Alive with anticipation, she kept her tail raised. Though, breeding in this position, it wasn't like it was going to get in the way, anyhow. But, still, it was a universal 'breed me' signal, and though Field didn't need the extra prompting, Adelaide decided to give it anyway.

The mouse, catching the tail-motion out of the corner of his eyes, panted, already working himself halfway into her with the utmost care, hips bumping up, up to hers, against hers, body wriggling in that distinctly rodent way. Paws gripping and squeezing her pretty, pink-furred rump-cheeks as he wordlessly worked the rest of his five-inch mouse-hood into her familiar tunnel. It felt, if he were to be hopelessly poetic, like a newly sublime revelation each time he did this. His penis slid like a knife into butter, his sensitive flesh suddenly immersed in adjectives too jumbled to understand. Oh, that sensation, that shock! Those first few seconds of penetration. Always felt like that. Her walls immediately snugging, fitting over his flesh like a sun-hot silk glove. She was so wet. A squelching sound came from their joined genitals each time the mouse's hips moved, engaging in the most intimate form of contact. Bringing him closer to her, and triggering her biting instinct, which would ...

... flare. The moment the pre leaked from his mouse-hood, mixing in with the wet juices that lined her vaginal walls, the signal raced to her brain. Like a mysterious spark. Like an ignition key had started something. Her body now with proof that it had been penetrated by the 'real thing,' it began to react accordingly. The telepathic union took too much mental energy to be spent on a false alarm. Her body had to be sure. And it undeniably was, as Field barely gyrated his penis in a swirling circle, hips grinding clockwise to hers, barely, barely, pre starting to drool from the excitement. Her instincts heightening, fangs beginning to fill with a milky liquid. Saliva beginning to release a numbing agent.

The whole build-up felt like falling down a flight of stairs without being hurt. Felt like delicious vertigo.

The mouse, panting quietly, continued to stimulate her with his clockwise grinding, steering his mouse-hood like it was a joystick. " ... mm. M-mm ... "

Adelaide moaned a bit.

The mouse, feeling his wife's wing-wrapping desperation, went totally still, suddenly, so she could do her thing. Letting her sniff his neck, and then letting her lap, lap, and lick her chosen spot, the right spot. Numbing it for the bite. Her fangs dripping her 'mating milk.' Her desire spiking, heart racing. Needing, needing those fangs to be ... to be ... s-slipping in. Sharply slipping into her husband's neck muscles, through the fur, the skin beneath, a few inches in. Using her telepathy and instinctual know-how to avoid hitting anything that shouldn't be hit. She was, as Field could attest to, an expert biter.

The mouse, nonetheless, gave an instinctual jerk as the bite took place.

Adelaide hugged him tightly, calming him after a second or two. And sighing heavily against Field's neck, feeling the telepathic link take complete hold. It only took eight seconds or so for the 'mating milk' to circle through the mouse's entire bloodstream, pumping through his brain, then his heart, and back round again. Linking thoughts, memories. Everything disclosed between the male and femme, husband and wife. Information, images starting to merge and blur. No secrets able to be kept. Intimacy enhanced. Full trust. Little moments, one after another after another. Hearing what each other was thinking, feeling what each other was feeling. Emotions. The tenderness, the joy. His mousey way of feeling things. And her batty way, too. And, then, lastly (as was always the case): the physical sensation. Began to be shared. The touches and pleasures of their own bodies alongside each other's pleasure. Simultaneously felt. Like they were inhabiting each other's bodies as well as their own.

It was, in effect, a spiritual symbiosis. Was the only way to describe it. They didn't dwell on the complexity of the 'how,' or ask 'why.' They'd done this too many times to be overwhelmed by it. They simply shared the intimate joy, knowing they could trust each other, knowing they'd bared it all before. They were baring it again. Gladly. Basking in each other's so-dear presence, each other's essence. They simply relaxed and expressed their romance, writhing in sweet, sweet union, pushing all the thoughts, memories, and emotions aside for now. The pleasure, at such a time, was always first and foremost. Oh, for the pleasure ...

... the mouse squeaked repeatedly, gently humping up at her, slipping deep into her sweltering, succulent vagina, easing back out, leaving his head inside. Always leaving the head inside. Once he'd penetrated her, his head rarely saw the light of day 'til the whole act was done. It was just the way he bred. He wasn't one for long, wild thrusts. He couldn't be. His mouse-hood was only an average five inches. So, he favored shorter, slower thrusts, often angling to the sides at first, but then angling up (to bump his groin against her clitoris). Easing, ultimately, into a constant, gentle piston-like motion. Little refraction-time, just an easy in, out, in, out, fast enough to provide friction but slow enough to avoid being like a jackhammer or something.

If Adelaide wanted to have fast, lusty, super-endowed rabbit-sex, she would've mated a rabbit. She wanted to be bred by a mouse. So, Field didn't give her false impressions. He simply bred her like the mouse he was, never rushing it, empathetic to her needs, always conscious of her clitoris. His sweat-matted, furry body wrapped to hers with tender earnestness. Cheek-to-cheek sweet, like a nocturne, like he was making music with her, being the bow to her violin strings. The lightning bugs flashing like piano-notes.

The bat, still lying atop of him, her supple, freed breasts squishing down against his trim, honey-tan chest, nipples getting pleasantly hard, kept her fangs in his neck. As she had to. Sounds muffled, breaths washing over his fur. She could almost hear his heartbeat. They were so close, tied together in so many ways. She'd originally said, of course, 'I'm on top.' Because she'd wanted to ride him. Even hunched over, with her fangs in his neck, she'd wanted to control the tempo. To have him be wriggling in place and her hips gyrating, pulling, pushing, grinding. But as Field sweetly bucked into her from below, as he bucked, bucked, eased, and bucked again, rocking the wagon just the tiniest, tiniest bit, enough to hear the wheels squeak so faintly. As Field did this, the bat just moaned. Didn't move. Just sighed against him, hugging him. She could ride him another time. Right now, he was expressing his feelings for her in the purest, most personal way, the most artistic way conceivable. And to be on the receiving end of that expression? Oh, it humbled her.

So, yes, oh, yes, she hugged him broadly, with her winged arms, her clitoris grazed and bumped by his hips, his groin. Squeaky grinding going on. She felt, right now, so full, so ... t-tingling with warmth. To just hold to his body and l-let him ... let him ...

" ... uh. Uh ... " Paws clutching her naked back, clutching her soft, pink-hued fur, the cotton candy, watermelon-pinks of her. " ... mm." He was such a 'squeaker' during sex. He couldn't remain quiet for anything. When times required for very silent, discreet breeding, Adelaide would have to use all her extra telepathic energy to 'mute him.' " ... mm, mm ... "

But Adelaide loved to hear it. They were sounds of helpless pleasure. For, oh, he really couldn't help it. That's what made them so cute: the fact that they were so genuine. And so soft and squeaky, of course. You could never get tired of mouse-sounds. He was just an emotional, touchy-feely fur, though. And the bat, fangs still embedded in him, began to careen toward ... h-he was driving her, in other words, t-to ...

" ... mm! M-uh, uh ... " He went to a sloppy, shaky hilt. Very suddenly. Tensing as semen spurted out. Shot by the steamy-hot spoon-ful. Right at her womb. He lovingly, helplessly painted her cervix, shaking with pleasure as each firework-like ejaculation shivered up and down his spine. Making him gape and shiver-squeak. Making him hug to her for dear life. " ... oh. Oh!" he cried, wriggling in the throes of orgasm, the throes. Oh! And ... the p-peak of it slowly began to taper off, slowly, and a few lazy, bewildered humps, so, so sensitive, and ...

... Adelaide, feeling the mouse's orgasm from his perspective, gurgled deliciously, and simply lost it. With a whoosh of air, chittering, chittering. Joining him. Her walls trembling. Then the shifting tremors, the quake-like shaking spasms that wracked her, the pleasure thrown to every part of her. " ... mm. M-hmm, mm ... " Oh, g-gosh! " ... oh ... " Her eyes rolled back, her pussy squirting an involuntary jet of clear nectar, soaking Field's tight, swollen sac, all the fur there. Him nestled so intimately against her. Joined like grabbing, mating dragonflies, full of fiercely-needful flight.

The mouse's paws shook as he felt her vagina milking him. Felt it shudder and ripple. Felt it just as his wife was feeling it. As if it were his own orgasm. A delirious double-pleasure, of hers. And his. Dizzying him, making him pant, and just hold to her. Just breathing, just feeling his heart beating in his chest. Just the heat they were giving off. Which, after a minute or two, began to fade, as they came down from their sexual highs, slipping softly into the dreamy 'afterglow' that always followed.

Field, panting, gave a chitter as her fangs slipped out of his neck. The bat gave deep, stabilizing breaths, licking those pearly-white fangs. Which glistened in the moonlight. The mouse, watching her, felt that she was purely ... " ... beautiful. You're so beautiful. Like, the most ... graceful kind of ... " He swallowed, losing the words. Eventually pulling out of her, as well, drawing his hips back. And rolling aside on the blanketed wagon-top. Side-by-side with her, now, instead of bottom-and-top.

" ... thank you." A pause, putting her nose to his. "I love you. So much. Thank you for giving yourself to me ... like you just did," she whispered, slipping her nose off of his. To meet his lips. In a sweet, subtle kiss, which was soon broken.

The mouse, eyes shyly open, wide in the hot, July dark, just responded, "I love you, too. And the same ... I thank you for the same things."

"Mm." A kiss to his cheek, this time. "Maybe we're overdoing it on the words a bit? Sometimes, I think the act," she said, steamily, "speaks for itself." A toothy grin, giving him a hug-squeeze.

Which drew a blushing 'squeak!'.

A sigh from the bat, as she swallowed and said, "We better get back to the house. Shower and get to bed. Busy day tomorrow." A sigh. "I don't know how much energy I have left."

The mouse nodded, knowing how she felt.

"Not that busy days are bad. In the summer, in the heat of things? When everything is productive and fruitful, and when the world is full of romance? What are those days called? Mouse days?"

"There's no such thing as mouse days. There are dog days," Field said, as he licked at his own paws, and then swiped at his cheeks and whiskers, instinctually grooming himself.

"Yeah, but that's got a bad connotation. 'Dog days' are bad busy days. What about good busy days? Days full of scurry and love? Those are 'mouse days'." She watched him groom. Sighing a little.

"Says who?" A genuine, whisker-twitching smile, stopping the grooming.

"Says me." As the bat sat up, she nodded and stretched her winged arms. "Mouse days and bat nights. Or something like that. Maybe I'm being silly, but ... you know, I'm practically drunk on the afterglow you brought me to, and I'm gonna collapse into a deep sleep as soon as I hit our sheets, so ... " A giggle-chitter, tilting her head and then yawning a tiny bit. " ... how much seed did you put in me, anyway?"

"It dripping back out?" the mouse whispered, very shyly.

"Mm-hmm. Don't worry ... always does."

" ... yeah, but if we're gonna walk back to the house, now, it's gonna drip all down your thighs and ... "

" ... we're gonna shower, darling." An afterglow-induced grin. "Seriously, you don't have to be tidy all," she stressed, "the time."

A relenting smile. "I guess not." He put both paws on his cheeks and muzzle, hiding an obvious yawn. " ... mm." A heavy sigh.

The bat closed her eyes and breathed of the sweet, alfalfa-scented air, mixed in with clovers and wild flowers. Wild roses somewhere, maybe. And wheat that was being cut already. There were also the damp smells coming from the creek and pond, carried out to the wagon by the breeze. " ... such a nice breeze," the bat had to say, because it was. She opened her eyes. The lightning bugs were still going at it. It was truly lovely, like the stars had come down to earth, and were twinkling all around. "Wanna walk back in the fur? Carry our clothes? Instead of wearing them? Feel the breeze lap at us as we go? Maybe get some lightning bugs to crawl up your tail?"

A shy, romantic giggle-squeak, eyes darting. And then finally locking with hers. A sweet, little nod. "I'd love that." He reached out a paw for one of hers.

She took it.

And, gathering their clothes (and the blankets) in their arms, they walked back through the wild grass and to the house, holding hushed conversations about life and love. And lightning bugs.