Hotel Room
All the way in. So deep ...
"Oh ... " The moan almost didn't make it past the mouse's throat ... so light and shy it was.
... and the squirrel pulling back, only the head left inside ... and sliding back into the other rodent. With a gentle buck. A hump. Into the mouse's rump. Tight and hot.
The sound of panting, panting ... the sound of sacs slapping.
A limp mouse tail trailed over the side of the bed, to the floor. Like a silky, pink rope. Which grew out of that warm and furry ... wonderfully weary ... rump. Back on bed, legs spread, whispering, "Please ... please ... "
A wilder buck.
The mouse's slender body rocked back. Elicited a forced-out squeak. "Uh ... yes ... "
"Mm ... "
The pad of a foot-paw. The squirrel's foot-paw. Two foot-paws. Claws digging into the powder-blue sheets ... pushing off the bed ... pushing into warmth. Claws digging. Signs of a body tensing. In the dimness, tensing.
The mouse squeaked. Squeaked. As did the rickety bed ... as it was rocked by the squirrel. Whose nose was on the mouse's neck.
"Oh ... oh, yes ... oh ... sweetie ... " Such tender, airy words ... with such a rising, pleasing urgency. Such a yearning.
The smell of hot and sweaty mouse fur ... unmistakable. Heat. Scent of mouse. And of wide, dilated eyes ... now half-open. As the window was half-open, letting cool air inside.
"Uh ... uhn ... " The mouse's senses drowning him ... in scents, sounds ... unable to control his vocalizations anymore ... squeaking ... slender, rodent form ... writhing. At a burn. Mouse-hood stiff and smooth ... leaking.
The feel of squirrel. Fine, silky squirrel ... hips a flurry ... drilling to the rodent's insides. To sow his seed. Strong and solid. Bushy, brushy tail. Of a mouse's limbs wrapped around the squirrel ... the glint of fur in pale, pale light. A midnight intimacy.
"Mm ... oh, oh!"
"Uh ... uh!"
A sudden drain of energy, a sudden, screeching halt ... for both ... a single second of hang-time ... the point of no return. And then ... orgasm.
Barks. Chitters.
Squeaks.
A pool filling inside the squeaky, sweaty mouse, who chittered and spurted his own. To the belly that rested up against him. Twitching helplessly ... in orgasm ... tail-hole instinctively clenching. The kind of fierce, explosive clenching ... only possible through climax ...
The squirrel almost squealed ... at the mouse's involuntary milking ... of his cock.
A moaning tangle of paws, limbs, fur ... and sucking mouths, sucking each other for moisture, for taste.
One of them shivering, drooling, moaning, "Yes, yes ... yes ... "
The other going, "Oh, oh ... oh ... "
And panting, panting. Slowing. Cooling.
Recovery.
The squirrel leaving the mouse's body ... flopping down beside him. "Oh ... gods." A breath. A swallow. A paw wrapping round and pulling him closer. "I told you," he giggled, "that I would ... make you beg ... "
"Oh," breathed the mouse. Panting ... panting ... and blushing. Naked, in the fur, smelling of seed and sweat ... and squirrel. Sweet sex. But feeling ... ashamed. A bit ... well, slutty. Like he'd just ... given himself away. Another part of him. How much was left ... how many furs owned a part of his soul? The mouse breathed quietly. Not knowing what to say, really. He didn't even know the squirrel's name ...
Half an hour or so ago, Field, the mouse, had been in the lobby of the hotel ... whiskers drooped. Sipping at some pink drink.
"Champagne?" asked the squirrel, suddenly taking a seat beside him. At the bar.
Field gave an embarrassed little huff. "Mm ... cherry 7-Up."
A giggle ... on the part of the squirrel. "Huh ... never had it."
"Wanna try it?" Field sloshed the soda in the glass. Ice cubes clinking.
"Nah, I've had too much to drink already ... " The squirrel swatted a paw at the air.
"Well ... " Field looked to his soda. And to the squirrel. "Why'd you come to the bar, then?"
The squirrel shrugged. "Hungry."
"Oh." A nod. "They have a good cheese pizza." The mouse had tried it. That had been his supper. And a breadstick.
"Mm ... " A bit of a drunken giggle, or so Field guessed it to be. The mouse hadn't touched a drop of alcohol in his life, and was intent ... on never so to do. But ... all the same, he could smell it. And tell ... that the squirrel was telling the truth. He'd had too much to drink ... and the squirrel was grinning, shaking his head. "Mm ... no, I want meat, mouse. Mouse meat ... " A laugh. A hopeful, disarming smile.
"What?" Field whispered. Though he'd heard perfectly. With his large, dish-like ears, it was hard not to.
"I wanna fuck you," the squirrel said, his tone low ... so they couldn't be overheard. "I mean ... God, do you know ... how difficult it is to find a fellow rodent? I mean ... we're the minority, you know? Everyone's a wolf or a feline ... or ... whatever. I've ... I need to fuck a rodent, you know ... a compatriot ... and, to be honest, I've never fucked a mouse. A chipmunk, yes ... he was ... rather portly, and he chipped like an alarm ... " A giggle. "Chipmunks ... they're chippers. Orgasm louder than anything you've heard ... hurt my ears ... but I mean ... do you know hard it is," the squirrel continued, apparently liking the sound of his voice, "to find a mouse ... a gay mouse ... one that's available, no less?"
Field's heart was hammering. Hammer-hammer. He had to struggle for breath ... out of a sudden animal arousal ... out of nervousness and fear ... suspicion. Too many things to name ...
"I've heard," the squirrel whispered, "that mice are squeakers ... you hit their sweet spot, just ... pound that prostate ... and they can't stop." A devilish giggle. "Squeak like babies ... "
Field was completely taken aback. He swallowed, starting, "Well ... how ... how'd you .. "
"Know you were gay?"
A terrified nod.
"God, mouse, it's ... " A snicker. "It's rather obvious ... "
"I didn't," Field stammered, eyes darting around. "I didn't think it was."
"God, the way you kept looking at my tail ... you probably didn't even realize you were looking, but ... "
Field blushed. "You've been ... the one gnawing on peanut shells ... in that booth over there ... " A blush. A whisper, "Yeah, I was ... yeah, I was ... "
"Checking me out ... lusting after me ... God, mouse, don't worry. I won't tell anyone ... "
"Would you please," Field stammered, flustered, flushed ... " ... please ... not use the Lord's name in vain like that?"
"Oh, sorry ... sorry ... didn't know you were the religious type."
"Well, that's because you don't know me," Field insisted, ears burning ... breath labored ... " ... and ... "
"Let's go yiff, hun," the squirrel interrupted. Whispered. Tugging the mouse's silky, ropy tail. Voice sweet ... as if they were already lovers ... " ... in my room. Let's yiff, hun," he repeated, more desperate, fingering ... the mouse's tail-base ... worming a finger through the narrow hole in the back of the mouse's jean shorts ... sidling behind the mouse ... so no one could see what he was doing, and pushing the finger through the tail-hole of the mouse's pants ... running the finger in slow, sensual circles ... right on the fur at Field's tail-base.
The mouse sighed ... let out a breath. Sagged a bit.
The squirrel rubbed more, chin on Field's shoulder, speaking softly ... " ... let's go fuck, sweetie ... we're both consenting furs ... both disease-negative ... aren't we?"
"Yes," breathed Field. Eyes closed.
"Mm ... we're both ... horny, both male ... and we're both rodents."
"I don't even ... know you." A whimper. The mouse torn ... between desire and ...
"Has it ever been so good for you," the squirrel whispered into Field's ear, "that you've begged for orgasm? I promise you, honey ... I'll make you beg ... " He wrapped his arms around the mouse. From behind. Cooed a final time, right into the mouse's sensitive ear, "Let's yiff our brains out."
Field ... only nodded. Relented. And went.
Upon reaching the squirrel's hotel room, they didn't bother to talk. Paws fumbling at buttons and zippers. Pants dropped around ankles, shirts fluttering to the floor ... Field daintily kicked his shorts aside ... and pushed the squirrel against the closed door ... kissing the squirrel, head tilted, breathless, while trying to lock the door ... but the squirrel stopped him from doing so ... and pushed the mouse backward, to the bed. Ravenously crawled atop of him ... panting, paws up and down Field's sides ... lips sucking the mouse's whiskers.
"Oh," Field panted. "Oh ... " He groped and panted, ears burning ... with blood. Picking up every pulse, every sound ...
The squirrel, giggling, rolled off and away from the mouse ... and crawled to the head of the bed. On all fours. But lowering his front down, head on a pillow ... rump and tail ... raised.
Field sat, staring ... licking his lips. But almost hesitating to move.
"You've seen plenty of tail-holes, darling, haven't you?"
The mouse blushed. Ashamed. Feeling ... so basic and carnal. So ... uncivil. He quietly nodded.
"But never a rodent's?" the squirrel realized, still in position. Bushy, brushy tail ... gorgeous ...
"Always ... predators. A few rabbits, but ... usually, I play prey," Field whispered. "Too well ... no, I've never ... had a fellow rodent ... I ... " He paused. He was in this city ... had come to live with a fur he loved, but ... it hadn't worked out. He was in this hotel ... waiting until he had the courage to ... go home, or ... he didn't know. It hadn't worked.
"You're used to being submissive ... fine ... I'll do you after you do me ... just do me," the squirrel begged. So horny ... his cock was out ... dripping ... Field guessed the alcohol must've worn off ... or the squirrel hadn't had as much as he'd assumed ...
Field crawled forward ... and held the squirrel's bushy tail ... cradled it. Buried his nose in it, the fur ... luxurious, rich ... beautiful in color and highlight. It was known ... that squirrels spent at least an hour a day ... just grooming their tails ... no creature had a better tail than a squirrel. And the mouse buried his sniffing, twitching nose ... and breathed. Breathed the scent, the pheromones ... and started to cry.
"Mouse ... fuck me! Yiff ... "
The mouse, sniffling, nodded ... a bit numbly ... and put his paws on the squirrel's solid, furry hips. And placed the tip of his mouse-hood to the puckered, pink tail-hole of the squirrel.
The squirrel panted ... waiting ...
Field, after a brief hesitation, begging himself not to do this ... bucked forward ... and sighed. No longer caring. It was what he desired. He needed ... to feel good. Needed some sliver of love. He hung his head, the squirrel's tail wafting in front of his nose. The mouse's plain tail ... side-winding on the sheets ...
The squirrel's tail-hole squeezed in resistance ...
The mouse moaned ... pulled back. And humped. He humped ... with the same veracity ... that the bucks in his yiffy videos did. The stash of porn he kept at home. The videos. He pawed off to them late at night, feeling guilty while he did so. But the bucks were his favorite ... their antlers, those impossibly strong chests ... how they brayed and bellowed ... and yet fucked each other with such a majesty ... oh, the mouse wanted to be spread-legged ... and taken by a buck. White-tailed deer. Elk ... whatever ...
"Uhnn ... huhnnn ... uh," groaned the squirrel. "Gods, yessss!"
Field, eyes closed, mated the squirrel ... savoring his fellow rodent ... jealous of how beautiful this squirrel was. How confident ... and that tail ... and the tail-hole ... Field was soon squeaking, hugging the squirrel's belly, rocking ...
But, now, Field's tail-hole dipped with strings of white cum ... his cock shrinking ... and he sniffed and breathed. Both of them spent. The squirrel drowsy ... eyes heavy, snuggling up to Field ... and neither of them knowing the other's name.
Field thought of the fur he'd come to this city to live with ... how the relationship had imploded. All the other furs ... he had loved. He had physically loved more than ... he'd emotionally loved. Only four times, he figured, had he actually been in love with any fur ... that had frolicked and fucked with him ... in any given bed. At any given point of his life. All ... had imploded. Broken apart. The mouse was certain it was always his fault ... and ... he felt hollow. He felt ...
The squirrel, whimpering and now asleep, cuddled up to him ... hugging, sharing his fur and warmth. The dim lights still on ... the covers and sheets strewn on the floor.
Field quietly cried, the incredible pleasure of this random, present passion ... fighting with the more calculated demons of his mind and past. And he kissed the squirrel's nose. Delicately. Fervently hoping ... dreaming that ... this fur would ... be the partner, the mate ... that wouldn't leave him. Or that he wouldn't drive away. Field cried, believing ... that he drove everyone away from him ...
Field hugged to the sleeping squirrel, nose on his neck ... breathing of his fur. Whispering, hoping God would hear his wish ... saying to the sleeping squirrel, "Maybe you'll be the one ... "