Mouse-o'-Lantern
"What are you doing?"
"Making a mouse-o'-lantern."
"What?"
"Mouse-o'-lantern. Carving a pumpkin," said Field.
"Oh." The lion sat down beside him. Tilted his head. Watched for a bit. "Not doing a very good job of it."
"Well ... " Field sat back. Sitting on the concrete steps of the porch. "There's a matter of the ears." He shook his head slowly. "And the whiskers. It's ... " He put the carving knife down. "It's not really ... feasible, I guess. I just ... wanted to try, you know?"
"Never carved a pumpkin before, so ... "
"Never?"
The lion shook his head.
"Not even, like, when you were little?"
A shrug.
"Mm," went the mouse, and he took a breath. Looked around. At the copper-colored, bronze-colored leaves. At the earthy-brown of all the trees. "Well ... " A pause. The air had a bit of a chill about it. A bit of a nip. And it made the mouse's nose and whiskers twitch. Twitch.
"You alright?"
"Nose is cold."
"Well, then come inside."
"It's too pretty ... to be inside. I mean ... I can't be inside."
"Well, if you're chilly ... "
"I just wanted to create something. I wanted to ... make it work, and ... " Field nodded at the half-finished mouse-o'-lantern. "It sort of ... fizzled on me." Pause. "Or maybe I'm the one that fizzled." He looked to Fuzzy. "I can never be sure."
The lion nodded quietly.
Field was still looking to his mate. Looking.
"What?" Fuzzy asked. Lazily.
"Nothing. I just ... "
"No, I know that look."
"What?"
"That look. It means ... "
" ... nothing. It's ... "
" ... that you want something. And I know what you want."
The mouse blushed, looking away. He could only shrug apologetically.
"Come here," Fuzzy whispered.
The mouse was stationary for a second, and then ... slowly crawled into the lion's lap. Nestling. Nuzzling. And sighing ... and saying, "Mm ... you're really warm." He closed his eyes.
"So are you," the lion whispered back. Directly into one of the mouse's ears.
Field sat for a minute. A moment more. And then ... turned his head so that he could kiss the lion's neck. Softly. A kiss on the right. A kiss on the left. A kiss under his chin. Just kissing. Little soft, shy kisses. Squeaky kisses. Mouse kisses.
The lion let him kiss ... and then kissed him back. On the forehead. On the cheek.
And the mouse tilted his head and let the next kiss hit his lips. Soft, slow kiss. Sweet. The lion didn't like messy, breathless kisses. The mouse did, but ... had to restrain himself from sucking on the lion's muzzle. He just ... allowed himself to be softly kissed.
A minute of kissing, and ... the mouse tugged, tugged at the lion's fur, whimpering a bit ... trying to lead him into the grass. Beneath the grey-blue sky.
The lion followed, and the mouse ... was wriggling out of his clothing, and ... trying to pull the lion's off.
Fuzzy chuckled, watching Field ...watching him twitch and squeak as he went about the task. Watching him get more and more worked up.
And when his mate was bare, the mouse went down on him. Slithered, snaked, squirmed down ... until his muzzle was where it needed to be. Where it wanted to be. Nibbling with lips, and then ... licking with tongue ... and then taking in the lion-hood that was there. Taking a few sucks ... and then bobbing slowly. Field's eyes closed, nose flaring and twitching ... as he went.
The lion simply closed his eyes and purred. And let the mouse have his way.
Field bobbing, bobbing ... pausing. Sucking. Squeaking.
The lion gave a few bucks into the mouse's mouth, but soon stopped ... and gave the mouse jurisdiction.
Meanwhile, Field's paw having strayed to his own mouse-hood ... pawing himself. Already wet with pre. Pawing as he bobbed and sucked ... hoping to make his lion climax first. And then follow suit.
A small plane went by overhead.
Leaves were falling through the sky.
All the pumpkins on the porch were of their orange color. Of their autumn stature. Some with black markings on them. Scribble marks ... for where the knife was to cut. But none of them had been cut to completion.
The lion's breathing became erratic. The moans increased. Little moans. The lion was always a quiet yiffer. Compared to the mouse, who ...
... was squeaking from the throat. Quite lustily. And bobbing, going ... pawing ...
... until the lion came in his muzzle. Giving out a satisfied purr. A long, long purr. Which vibrated his body.
The mouse allowed the seed to pool in his mouth. And then he swallowed, and then he crawled forward, laying right on top of the lion, and he pawed ... until he released on the lion's belly. Matting their fur. Bellies rubbing. And him squeaking and squirming, eyes squeezed shut from the sensation.
And it took a minute for them to recover. They breathed, breathed ... laying there.
And Field took a shaky breath. "Mm ... um ... " He swallowed, sniffled, said, "I'm not so chilly now."
The lion chuckled, eyes shining and locking with his. "I bet you're not."