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You can do this, Meadow.

Close your eyes.

Slow, deep breaths. That's it.

Count to ten? Maybe a hundred.

No, wait!

That won't work.

Don't think.

Yeah.

Clear your head.

Let the sensations cradle you ...

The soft, fancy sheets, blue and white, against her bare, wheat-hued pelt. Fur and fabric. The downy blanket on top of it all, heavier, warmer. Locking in her body heat. Her body. Somewhat petite, not quite five-and-a-half feet. More supple and curvy than not, with all the normal mousey attributes: big ears, long, ropy tail, twitchy nose and whiskers. Everything subtly moving. Motion. Steady, repeated. Breasts rising, swelling upward with air, and then sinking as she exhaled. Rise and fall. Up and down. Everything rhythmic, like nature's white noise, lulling her closer and closer. Closer to sleep.

Closer.

But not quite.

She peeked one eye open. Then the other.

Clenching her jaw, the mouse grabbed at her head-fur, squeaking in pent-up frustration. "Mm-f!" Rolling onto her side, she glanced at the bedside alarm clock. 3:17 AM. And the sun, though hanging low, was cheekily peeking through the windows! Even with the curtains closed, it was making it through. Bold, slanting rays. The kind that cast heavy shadows. It was still nighttime. Right? Technically, scientifically nighttime? Her mind and body began to argue.

Sun means morning!

But you're tired, aren't you? You should be tired.

Daytime, though!

You need sleep.

Wake up, wake up!

"Guh!" she groused, flailing her golden limbs, kicking the sheets and blanket away. A hot huff, sitting upright. She wiped a soft paw across her muzzle, idly, before running her fingers through her head-fur. "Water. I need water ... " She stood up, fighting the urge to stretch. But after taking a few steps, she gave in. Twisting, reaching. Idly squeaking. "God." And then, padding the rest of the way to the kitchenette, she opened the mini-fridge. Retrieving a bottle.

As she pulled the top open with her buckteeth and drank, she wandered to the window and pulled the curtain away, slightly. Squinting hard. The view wasn't as fantastic from her room as it was from the lobby, on account of it facing in a different direction. But it was still jarring to see such widespread wilderness. Trees everywhere. Spruces, she'd been told. Back home, agriculture had lent a 'manicured' look to nature. Perfectly squared fields and patches of isolated woods. Very pastoral. The kind of land Appalachian Spring made you think of. That wasn't the case here. Everything was untamed.

The female harvest mouse smoothed the curtain back into place, took another swig of water, and then looked around for her clothes. Panties. Pants. A t-shirt. Wriggling into them. She didn't bother with a bra. I just want to walk to the lobby, pace the hallway. Maybe moving around will tire me out, settle me down. Probably not. But it's worth a try.

So, in her bare foot-paws, she opened the door to her room. Made sure she had her keycard before leaving and taking a right turn. The lights were dim out here. Her room was on the second story, and once she reached it, she paused on the balcony overlooking the main lobby. She suspected there was someone on duty down there but didn't see them. Just empty couches, unoccupied chairs. Clean tables. Embers smoldering in the fancy fireplace. Probably for aesthetic purposes more than practical heating. But even in early June, there was a certain chill in the air. The rustic quality of the 'Bed and Breakfast' was certainly inviting. Laidback. Simple. But it was the view that was the real draw.

Through the large, insulated windows, Denali National Park occupied the entire horizon. The sun twinkled, as if laughing at Meadow's temporary insomnia. She strained her eyes, wondering if she could spot Mt. McKinley, or Denali, as the locals called it, the tallest mountain on the continent. But, no. Not from here. No matter. She'd seen it earlier on one of the tour busses. It had stopped several times to let everyone take pictures. She'd gotten several. Hopefully, when she got home, she could frame a few.

"Big, isn't it?"

"Hmm?" The mouse blinked in surprise, almost jumping as she looked to the left. Her big, dishy ears swiveled. She'd been so lost in thought, not to mention 'light loony,' that she hadn't heard his approach. You're prey. And you let a predator sneak up on you? She chastised herself. Pay attention, Meadow. "Um, well." She glanced back at panoramic view. Then at the ... canine thing? Wolf? A mix-breed, from the look of it. Odd-colored fur, a mix of white, tan, and black. He was several inches taller than her. Strapping, well-defined. Her nose sniffed. And he smelled kinda nice, which was a plus. "The park?"

"Six million acres," he bragged.

"Size isn't everything."

"I suppose not." He smirked, toothily, black-padded, white-furred paws grabbing hold of the wooden railing. He pushed against it. "Mm."

"It is impressive," she admitted. Her attention flitted from the windows to the male. Is he flexing for me? Trying to show off? "The view, I mean." Not him. But, also, yes him? "I could stare at it for hours."

"Even in the middle of the night?" he teased, easing up. His fluffy tail wagged a little.

She rubbed her eyes and blew out a breath. Whiskers twitching. "I've never seen the sun at 3 AM. I went to bed at midnight, and the sun was out. I wake up in the middle of the night, or what I think is the middle of the night, and ... sun's up again." She rolled her neck around. "Can't get back to sleep." She wasn't naïve. She'd known it would be like this. Her entire trip had been daylight-heavy. But the further north in Alaska she traveled, the more pronounced it became. It was starting to get to her.

"Not unusual for a newbie."

"What about you? Does it keep you up?" Is that why he was out here?

"No, I'm used to it," he assured.

"Well, uh ... does it even go down at all?" She'd assumed it had during her brief two, three-hour rest. Before she'd woken up and been unable to get back to sleep.

"Heh. For a few hours, yeah. Now, further north, above the Circle? In Barrow, it doesn't set for weeks."

She shook her head. That was unbelievable. "Everything is so foreign up here." Both fantastic and unnerving at once.

"That's why most furs come, I wager," the male said. "To get a taste of something different. Well, one of the reasons. The freedom. The grandness. The isolation. The virgin wilderness. Well, as 'virgin' as wilderness can be in this day and age." He looked the mouse over. Is she a virgin? I bet not. She has to be at least thirty. And, speaking of the Midnight Sun, her fur was a deliciously golden color. Warm, inviting. Like butterscotch. And, for lack of a better word, tits. The outlines of which were clearly visible beneath her shirt. She's not wearing a bra, is she? "Why are you here?"

The mouse bit her lower lip. "Thought that was obvious."

"Not in the hallway," he corrected. "In Alaska."

"Oh. Some of those reasons, I guess? The things you mentioned."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she whispered back, refusing to elaborate. Saying, instead, "But, also, my grandparents passed away last year."

Confused, the apparent canine hybrid tilted his head. "Mm. Sorry to hear that," he said, simply.

"They were nearing ninety," she said, as way of explanation. "It was sad, but it wasn't a huge surprise." Seeing the look on his face, she said, "I got an inheritance. And I'd never taken a big trip before. So ... "

"Ah!" he went, smiling again. His tail resumed its wagging. "So, you chose Alaska? Obviously."

"Obviously," she echoed, squinting. He seemed familiar. Really. His voice, especially. "You, uh ... you're a tour guide, aren't you?" That's it! Yeah. "I saw you. On the bus I took."

"Heh. Guilty as charged." He looked forward, out the windows. Then scanned the lobby. Partially to hide his embarrassment that he didn't recognize her in return.

"I'm Meadow," she supplied.

"Meadow." He nodded, gathering himself and extending a white paw, which gave way to a rusty, tawny color on the arm. He was like an abstract painting. Splashes of this and that. "I'm Homer."

She took the paw, cautiously. It nearly covered her own. And it was very warm. "Like the writer of the Odyssey?"

"Only more epic," he added, squeezing her golden paw. Lifting it to his muzzle, he planted a kiss on the backs of her fingers. "It's a pleasure." He added a second kiss for good measure before releasing them.

She looked down, demurely, clearly flattered. She'd always been a sucker for praise. It was fairly easy to butter her up.

"A shy mouse like you? I'd figure you for a cruise sort. Inside Passage. Panhandle. All that."

"Who says I'm shy?" Meadow mumbled, looking back up. But not exactly making eye contact.

"You keep blushing, for one. Those ears are a dead giveaway."

She smiled and hugged herself. It was true. She was shy. Though it made her shyer to admit it. Was that weird? "My ears are always doing that."

"Is that all they do?" he wondered, flirtatiously.

She giggled, buckteeth flashing. "Mm." After a moment, she said, "To answer your question, I, uh, thought about it. Staying by the coast. But a cruise seemed ... I don't know. Lazy?"

The canine chuckled.

"You agree?"

"Well, it's for furs who want to 'relax' on vacation. You normally don't get as up-close and personal on those. I mean, for instance, you don't have the likes of me taking you behind the scenes." He flashed a self-assured grin.

The mouse tilted her head. Was that an observation or a promise? "I've never been able to relax. Have too much energy. Most of it nervous."

"Still counts."

"Yeah. It does." She didn't sound particularly pleased about it, though.

"We don't get a lot of 'prey' here in the Interior. Well, except snow rabbits. Ton o' them." Not that he was complaining. He'd had nothing but pleasant encounters with the 'Tall Ears.'

"Why's that?"

"They're indigenous."

"No, not the rabbits. I mean ... "

"Why's Alaska so predator-heavy? Well. Summer's nice but short. And the winters are long. Dark. Oppressive. You have to be hardy to survive them. Not that prey can't be," Homer amended, diplomatically. He was a modern-minded fur. He believed in equality and all that. "Just how the demographics shake out."

"I wouldn't last one of your winters. There aren't enough tail-socks and ear-mittens to protect a mouse from negative forty or whatever the extreme is. Don't know how anyone would function." Summer was her favorite season. She liked it warm.

"Don't know what you can't do until you try. I mean, if you grew up with this? And it's all you're used to? Long as you dress in layers and have a few 'happy lights' to keep you company, you'll be fine," he joked. "Some furs drink their way through it. I'm not a fan of that." There were ways to keep warm that didn't involve hangovers.

"I feel kinda stupid," Meadow admitted. "I read some tourist-y books before I came." Like the mosquito being the unofficial 'state bird.' Though, actually, it was the willow ptarmigan. Oh, and the largest rainforest in America was in Alaska, too! Trivia tidbits. Nothing practical. "I'm still a novice."

"It's a big place. Takes a while to get a hang of it." He turned around and leaned on the railing, again. This time with his rump. "So, where are you from, exactly? Lower 48?" He raised a brow. "You're not Canadian, are you?" Not that there was anything wrong with that!

"Indiana."

"Mm." He clicked his tongue. "Never been there."

"It's one of those flyover places. Not a lot to see or do. Compared to here, especially."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"No?"

"Out here, we're sorta isolated. I mean, back where you're from, you can probably find well-known specialty stores to shop at. Or see new foreign films at an art cinema. Go to big, national sporting events. Can't do that here. Not on the same level. Even in Anchorage."

"I hadn't thought of that ... "

"Some furs like the isolation. They thrive in it. Others need to be in the thick of things."

"I guess I'm in-between. Something about isolation appeals to me." The harvest mouse took a short breath before confessing, "But I don't want to be alone, either."

"Sounds like you desire a happy-medium. Intimacy." He paused, himself, and said, "I can't help but notice you're here alone?" He phrased it as a question. Sounded gentler that way.

"What makes you think there's not someone else back in my room?" she countered, coyly.

Homer tapped the side of his powerful nose a few times. "I don't smell anyone on you."

"Oh."

"You aren't alone now, though," he insisted, warmly.

Meadow couldn't help but smile. He was sweet. What were the odds of bumping into someone like him, though? At this hour, no less? Maybe I'm still asleep in my bed and this is just an elaborate fantasy. "I was just stretching my legs." Did I already say that? I forget.

"Me, too." His tongue lolled out, briefly. "Mind if I make an observation?"

She shook her head.

"Most furs come up here with someone. The ones who go solo are almost exclusively male. So, it's a bit ... well, it's very unusual to see someone like you."

"Like me?"

"Female," he said, obviously. Eyes checking her out again. Very obviously female, yes. "Beautiful. Unadorned. Surprised you haven't picked up anyone along the way." He raised a brow. "Or have you?"

She appreciated the continued flattery. Really. And it showed in her ears, which were getting rosier by the second. "Um ... " She stammered. "No, I haven't. I, uh ... " Change the subject. "I hope this doesn't offend you, but, um ... "

"What am I?" Homer anticipated. In his experience, when you put attention on a shy girl, they got out of it by putting the attention back on you.

Meadow nodded.

"Now, why would that offend me?" he murred.

"I, uh ... I don't know." An eye-darting smile. "I just ... "

"I'm a mutt. Basically. Mother's a Siberian husky. Father's a coyote. If pressed, I identify as coyote," he explained, nonchalantly. "Lot of hybrids up here. Males outnumber the females, but ... well, you gotta keep warm." A playful wink. "Good thing hybrids are infertile, really, or we'd have a genetic free-for-all going on."

"I'm just a boring pure-bred. Harvest mouse," she explained, almost mumbling it. He was so talkative. And enthusiastic. Was he always this bushy-tailed at such an early hour?

"Why's that boring?" he pressed, sidling closer. "It's new to me. Deer, house, field, wood ... " He nodded as he listed them off. Yeah. That was as far as his sphere of 'mouse' knowledge extended. "Never heard of 'harvest mice' before."

"Actually, we prefer ... "

"Mouses. Right! Heh. I knew that ... " A chuckle. "Cute."

"I'm just plain, though," she continued, unable to shake the feeling. "When you're purebred, you blend in. You're homogenous." And a lot of other escalating, fancy adjectives. She bit her lower lip. "At least you're different. There's probably not many like you." I bet he has an interesting history. And leads an adventurous life. "The only thing unique about my species is that we have prehensile tails."

"Comes in handy, I bet." A wink.

She just looked down, lips curling up. "Depends."

"Heh. Everyone's fascinating in their own ways. It's all perception."

"I guess." She didn't sound convinced. She still felt plain, somehow. She'd lived a quiet, simple life, with little to no trauma and scant adventure. Secure. Healthy. Everyone wanted a life like that, right? And she was grateful. She was happy. She was! It's not that she wanted drama. Just, maybe, a few interesting stories to tell? Or scintillating secrets to keep? You only lived once. Presumably, anyway. And she sometimes felt she was playing it safe.

After a moment, Homer said, "There's something else unique about your species."

"What's that?" she asked, curiously.

"You're unbearably adorable."

Meadow swallowed, giggling nervously. "Oh ... "

"You know, you better get some sleep," he told her. "Me, too, really." He was actually heading back to his room when he'd seen her. Had been down in the lobby, making sure he wasn't on tomorrow's tour roster. It was supposed to be his day off. But, sometimes, guides got sick or the tourist load was so heavy they needed reinforcements. Besides, he'd always been a night owl. "The sun's not gonna go down for another, oh, twenty hours." He ventured to put a paw on her shoulder. "I wouldn't wait for it."

She nodded, quietly, shivering at the touch. Some part of her had been waiting for that. For him to make physical contact.

"Actually, tomorrow ... well, today, technically." It was already tomorrow. "It's my day off. Was gonna take the train to Fairbanks. If you're not booked for another tour, you should come with." He withdrew his paw, finally.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him.

"I assume you've never been."

"No, but ... "

"I'm being too presumptuous, aren't I?"

Another nervous giggle. "No, it's just ... "

Homer tilted his head. He was a gregarious fur, sometimes overly so. Living life day to day, spontaneously. It was easy for him to invade others' personal spaces without realizing it. But he'd gotten the impression, from Meadow's tone and body language, that she was submissive. And, well, he wasn't. So, they were presumably a good fit, right? Both unattached insomniacs. Part of him, a large part, fantasized about one thing leading to another. A fur could dream ...

"Thanks for the ... um, the invite." She cleared her throat. "But, um, I'm not sure if ... "

"It's okay," he quickly replied. Rejection! Homer felt a pang of disappointment but hid it well. He wasn't one for emotional outbursts. "Well, then ... " He took a breath and bowed, politely. "I'll, uh, bid you goodnight, Miss Meadow." He flashed that winning smile and turned to leave.

The harvest mouse squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip. Wrestling with herself. Don't be silly. I'm not! Then stop him? "Wait!" she squeaked.

Pausing, the coyote looked o'er his shoulder.

Wringing her tail in her paws, she opened her eyes and took a step or two in his direction, hips swaying, breasts swelling beneath her shirt. "I'm ... like I said, I'm not really tired yet." Why am I so damn shy? Why do my ears get hot when a male shows even a passing interest in me? Look at him. He's playing it so cool. He's so confident. I really like that.

He turned and crossed his arms, casually. "Well, neither am I, to be honest, but I don't like lingering out in the hallways during godforsaken hours. It ends up drawing attention. And there are more efficient ways of communication than whispering ... " His voice got a bit husky as he said this.

She caught his drift, so to speak, and wasn't sure whether to smile, giggle, or what. "Oh?"

"Mm-hmm," he assured. "You like tea?"

"Sometimes." It wasn't her beverage of choice, by any means. But it would do in a pinch. And, besides, the drink was merely a pretense. A flimsy reason to invite her to his room. An appetizer before a midnight snack.

"I got some. Peppermint. Might help you relax. It's the pouches, though, not the 'real' stuff."

"Well ... " She wanted to say 'yes, make me tea, make steam blow out of my ears,' but couldn't quite spit it out. Damn modesty.

"Follow me," he instructed, warmly, moving fully away from the panoramic view. She's the type that needs prodding. She likes to be led. He smiled. I can do that. So, he guided her into the windowless right wing of the facility. His room wasn't far. "Just right here." He pulled a keycard out of his pocket. Swiped it. The door clicked, and he opened it, quietly ushering the smaller mouse inside. He looked both ways before closing the door. The other tour guides would razz him endlessly if they found out about this. They always did. They were just jealous.

She looked around his room, her tail wavering. It was similar to hers. "Do you, uh ... stay here often?"

"Few months a year. Summer. Few years, now. Sorta use it as a base during the tourist season, yeah. Then work various odd-jobs. Or I have. Logging. Fished for a few seasons, but that got to be too dangerous for my tastes. Which is saying something! Paid pretty well, though." He'd done a bit of everything, really. "But I always need the money. Cost of living can get high up here ... "

"You're so rugged," she said, resisting a dreamy sigh. Or, at least, he made himself sound that way.

"Heh. Maybe? I'm a softie at heart, though. Pardon the, uh ... yeah. Sorry." He picked up some clothes. Tossed them into a pile. "I know your species is fastidiously tidy. Or so goes the stereotype."

"It's more true than not in my case. But ... don't worry about it," she insisted, whiskers twitching. The room was clean enough. She'd seen much worse. "It's late, and ... "

"Just have a seat."

She did so. Chose the couch. Paws primly in her lap as her head angled and looked around. The room was scented of him. And, like all the rooms in the lodge, heavily accented with wood and 'Northern' décor. As well as some ethnic masks and totems. The room wasn't segregated into sections. Rather, the cozy mini-kitchen and living space simply opened into the bedroom. "You don't have a lot of personal stuff ... "

"Like possessions? Naw. Wouldn't know what to do with it. I mean, I don't have a real home, per say. I'm a bit of a nomad."

"I do," she said, quietly. "Have a home. And, uh, lots of stuff." Most of it immaterial. She looked down at her paws. "So many roots," she explained, "keeping me in place. I wouldn't have the nerve to pull them up. Not permanently." Was that a weakness?

"Well, hey, different strokes for different folks," Homer reasoned, easily, bounding about. Snacks. We need a snack. Nuts? No, too euphemistic. Crackers. That'll do. He grabbed a box.

"Not a lot seems to bother you, does it?" she finally asked.

"Should it?"

"Well ... I mean, there's so much to worry about."

"Life's too short."

"And unpredictable." And unpredictability could be dangerous.

"Can be thrilling, though. Not knowing? One can get off on it." He chuckled, heating some water in a pot. "Surprised you came all this way if you've got all these hang-ups."

"I don't have ... hang-ups," she said, lamely.

"What are they, then?"

"Neuroses."

"Heh!"

She smiled at his reaction. "I'm not entirely weird, though."

"Of course not! No one is entirely," he stressed, "weird. But very few furs are normal."

"Mm. But, yeah, I made myself take this trip. Ten days. I'm on Day Seven. I've really enjoyed it so far. Wish it could last longer." A hesitation. Her whiskers twitched. "Part of me is afraid, once it's over and I go back home, back to normal, I'll say, 'well, I had my adventure,' and be satisfied. And never try anything like this again."

"Nothin' wrong with satisfaction," he drawled, in a singsong way.

"Nothing wrong with wanting more, either," she answered.

"I'll agree with you there, mousey." He eyed her. She looked sweet enough to eat. In a non-gory way, of course. He lowered his voice. He couldn't hold it back any longer. "Pardon me saying, but ... you're not wearing a bra." Mouses had reputations for big 'accessories' compared to their body size. Males and huge balls. Females and, "Your breasts."

She looked down. Then back up. "What about them?"

"Knowing they're hanging all loose and stuff? Makes me wanna feel 'em. Well, I'd wanna feel 'em regardless, but it makes it more practical." He growled, playfully. "Been wanting to tell you that."

"Oh! My. Well, I ... see, I, uh, got dressed ... " She swallowed. She'd forgotten about that, actually. I'm not wearing a bra. And he likes my breasts? He hasn't even seen them ... and he wants them? Wants me?

"Got dressed in the dark?" He winked. "Impossible. Midnight Sun, remember?"

"Not in the dark. In a hurry," she corrected. "I didn't think I'd meet anyone in the ... " You want him to feel them, too, Meadow. Don't you? You want his paws lifting them, squeezing them. Each fleshy, furred mound, each side. You want his muzzle suckling your nipples. You know you do. That's why you came back to his room. Stop being modest for just a minute, won't you? You're a fur. It's okay to acknowledge your instincts. He's flirting with you. Flirt back!

"Well, regardless of why, I'm glad you forgot. Gives me something nice to think about." He smiled, widely. Then got out two mugs, putting a pouch of peppermint tea in each one. He tapped his foot-paws on the floor, blowing out a breath as he waited for the water to heat. "Watched pots," he muttered. After another minute, it was ready, and he filled each mug three-quarters full. And finally padded over to the couch to rejoin her. "You still seem nervous. Thought I told you to relax."

"Did you?" She exhaled, audibly. "I'm a mouse," she replied, taking the mug carefully. Steam was coming from the top.

"Is that a reason or an excuse?" he asked, spreading his legs and leaning back. He blew on his own mug. Then ventured a sip.

"I just don't often, uh, find myself ... " In contrast, she crossed her legs, keeping her thighs pressed together. She took a cracker from the box he'd brought back. Nibbled it all up. Then grabbed another.

"In a stranger's room in the middle of the night?" Another, deeper sip. He liked his tea hot, apparently. Liked his females the same way. She really was cute as a button. Definitely had a 'girl next door' vibe going on. Why haven't I given rodents a closer look before now? I know there aren't many up here, but I don't even flirt with the marmots. It's like I just assume they won't be interested in a predatory mutt like me. Maybe because they're so inhibited. It takes more work to get them relaxed.

Not knowing how to answer him, she focused on the tea. "Refreshing," she said. "I love peppermint." Especially those red-and-white candy discs. One of her weaknesses.

"Mm-hmm." He smirked, throwing his head back and downing the rest of the tea. "Ah," he sighed. "Ooh." He put his mug down and placed his paw on her back. "This is nice." He chomped on a few crackers, himself.

"Yeah ... "

"Relax," he breathed, licking his lips and rubbing her through her shirt.

"I am." Another sip of tea. "I'm trying, at least," she whispered, vulnerably.

"Let me help you?"

No response.

"Meadow?"

Finally, a nod.

"Not gonna hurt you," he soothed, lifting his arms and stripping himself of his shirt. Revealing a very impressive chest.

"I know, I know ... " She stared, dumbly. Oh, wow. She put her mug aside before she dropped it. Still half-full of steaming liquid. But she wasn't thirsty anymore. She was hungry. And not for food.

"Good." His light-furred chest puffed out, proudly, as she drank it in, and he let his big, clawed paws slide up and down her back. Then down, down. Up. Then down, again. Staying down. And moving beneath her shirt, eventually. Slowly lifting it up.

She sucked air and sat up straighter.

"Easy, there." After a moment of rubbing, he murred, "You have such soft fur." Soft and short. And such a bright, sunny color. She'd be a sight for sore eyes in the middle of a dark Alaskan winter. Almost wish she wasn't leaving in a few days. "Love the feel of it."

"Thanks," she mumbled.

"Lift your arms." He got her shirt up and o'er her head, careful with the ears. Once it was free, he tossed it. She couldn't see where. She could only draw air, hotly, sighing as he cupped her breasts, gently thumbing her nipples. Excellent. "Now, why are these hard, hun?" he wondered, eyes shining with mirth.

"Just ... just b'cause," she slurred. They were both half-naked. Soon, they'd be fully so. And breeding. Wouldn't they? She was already imagining it. I've never gotten this close to anyone so quickly. I didn't even know he existed an hour ago. Is this wrong? Should I be slowing down?

"Mm. Well." He nodded, nosing her head-fur. Licking her ears. The rims, at first. Then the backs. "Always wanted to play with a mouse's ears."

She nearly melted on the spot, mumbling incoherently. With each broad, warm tongue-swipe to her lobes, her concerns seemed to evaporate.

"Sensitive, huh?"

Squeaky nonsense.

He didn't ask her to repeat herself. He understood the gist. Pants feeling uncomfortably tight, he unbuttoned them, yanked down the zipper, and said, "Get on your back, hun."

She did so, panting, twisting her head to look across the room. "What about ... bed ... "

"I'm comfy right here. For now," he added, shifting to all fours above her. "You're so cute. Did I tell you that?" I probably did. Three or four times. "Well ... it's cause you are."

"I don't tire of hearing it," she replied, honestly. The more aroused she became, the headier she got. "You're, uh ... " She reached up, pawing at his furry chest. Nice, even pelt. With toned definition beneath. All that outdoorsy stuff, no doubt. A thrill ran through her as she felt his muscles. The strength they must contain. And having that strength pressed against her? "You're handsome," she finished. How many hours have I been awake? At least twenty. Have I gone without sleep this long in my entire life? I can't believe I'm still able to get aroused. I feel like this is a dream. Lord, please let it be real. Please.

"When's the last time you had sex?" he breathed curiously, nuzzling her cheek. Sucking on a patch of golden fur. His eyes were green. Emerald green. She hadn't noticed that until now.

"What?"

"When's the last time," he repeated, slowly, "you were bred?" He drifted up her head and blew into an ear. The right lobe. A hot, directed jet of air. And, when the breath was spent, he inhaled and swirling his tongue toward her ear canal.

"Ah-h ... " She grabbed at him, desperately, foot-paws stretching out. Then going limp. Legs pulling back and falling apart. To say that felt good would've been lying. It didn't feel good. It felt great. Her ears were hot, now. Pink. Pinker. Flushing with blood. She could hear her own pulse. Everything threatening to burn.

"I asked you a question, hun," he reminded. Not having experience with ear-sex, he backed off her lobes. He sensed she was close to something? But didn't want to overdo it. From his cursory knowledge of the subject, it was a delicate art. Too much stimulation could hurt. Too little would merely fizzle out. He wished he had more time with her. She could teach him how to do it. How to pleasure her best. Look at you, Homer. You're pining. When have you ever done that?

"Last year." Early last year. "Year-and-a-half," she corrected, sheepishly.

"Another mouse?" he guessed, starting to grope the breast above her heart. Rolling it around. Kneading it.

"Mm-h. Yeah ... "

It hadn't lasted long. Two months? Maybe three. She'd almost mated him. They'd had decent enough chemistry. Fireworks hadn't gone off every time their eyes met, no, but realistically, should one hold out for that? And risk missing out on companionship entirely? You can't be a perfectionist. Life isn't always ideal. Successful relationships require compromise.

Thirty-one years old and single, she'd been worried then, as she was now, of ending up old and alone. He'd wanted children, though. A family. That was really important to him. He'd come from a big family, himself. She hadn't. Try as she may, she'd been unable to get over the realization that, 'I don't want to be a mother.' I never have.

He'd tried to convince her that she did, that she was just nervous or insecure, and he'd be there to support her. Which she'd found insulting. 'Just because I'm female, you think I subconsciously want it? I told you how I feel. I don't need kids to be happy.' They'd argued. The metaphorical knives had come out, and he'd accused her of having antisocial tendencies, being an introvert. 'You've always been like that. I thought maybe I could help you.'

It was very hurtful. Especially coming from someone you'd been sleeping with, doing the most intimate, animal things with. From someone you thought you sorta loved. Someone you were trying to love deeper. Maybe it was true. Maybe I am an introvert. So, what? Why can't I be loved for what I am?

It went downhill from there.

For a while afterward, she'd questioned her femininity. Wondered if a lack of traditional 'maternal instincts' made her less whole, less desirable to potential mates. As she'd just confessed to Homer, she hadn't had sex since then. A few times, she'd wanted to. Who didn't? But I get attached. I get emotional. I haven't wanted to risk the heartache. Why can't I separate sex from love? I don't love Homer, here. But I like him. We just met, sure, but he's nice. Nice is nice! If he's willing to make me feel good, what's wrong with that?

Nothing.

Nothing's wrong with it, Meadow.

Enjoy yourself.

Live life.

Screw him.

But she couldn't stop obsessing. What about a mate? It didn't help that all her acquaintances from high school and college had pups, now. She would get their Christmas cards every December. That's just what furs in rural Indiana did. Grew up. Went to school. Worked. Got mated. Had kids. Lived in a nice house until they died. It was a standard checklist.

She'd checked off a few boxes, herself. The house, the job. Her trip to Alaska was, in part, an attempt to jar herself into a different trajectory. It was so big and beautiful here, and the air was ripe with possibility. It felt like anything could happen. A new discovery every day. Maybe you'd find something in nature. Or maybe you'd find something in yourself. But you were likely to find something.

"Hey," Homer whispered, kissing on her cheek. "Hey, baby ... "

"What ... "

"You're zoning out on me." There was genuine concern in his voice. He wanted to have sex with her, but he wasn't using her for sex.

This distinction wasn't lost on the mouse. And her eyes watered at his surprising level of tenderness.

The coyote frowned, a paw rubbing her cheek. Strumming her whiskers. Uh-oh. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing ... " She choked the word out, pitifully.

"You sure? Is it because it's been a while for you?" He hoped he wasn't being oblivious. He sensed she wasn't telling him something. But, then, why should she? They'd just met. There was no rule that said she had to spill her soul to him. I haven't spilled mine to hers. Fair's fair.

"Yes. I want this ... " A stabilizing breath. "I want you."

He nodded with relief. Then propped himself up a bit, wearing a helpless, lopsided grin. "Full disclosure? In regards to sexual history? I got some last week." Tail, that is. "A few times, actually." Snow rabbits. Hikers. Does. They'd come from the Kenai Peninsula on a weekend trip to see Denali. They were like dynamite in the sack. And had the craziest libidos, so they were always looking for it. He'd never had a foursome before ...

She didn't know why his confession was amusing. Something about the look on his face. Total lack of shame! It was inexplicably charming. She giggled.

He leaned down to touch noses, explaining, "I keep clean. Don't worry about that. And you're not in heat?"

"No," she assured.

His nose figured as much. "Well, I guess it wouldn't matter," he added. "We're not genetically compatible, anyway, right?" He'd asked out of habit. A lot of the females he fooled around with were fellow canine-types.

She looked into his eyes.

He looked back. "I'm not seeking anything long-term, hun. I'm never in one place long enough." He paused and added, "But I ... well, it gets really lonely, sometimes ... " She didn't know it, but that was hard for him to admit. Sure, he had his flings and affairs. He'd lost count how many. It would probably embarrass even him to know the true number. It was so hard to make lasting connections when you had no roots. But a life without any connection was too bleak for the sociable coyote to fathom.

Meadow hugged him, quietly.

Homer, briefly appearing emotional himself, quickly regained his composure. "I, uh ... you know, when I can enjoy some fine company, and a finer piece of tail? I take it." He nuzzled her forehead. "And you're pretty fine."

"Thank you. And you don't need to justify yourself," she replied, softly. "In fact, wish I could be more like that ... " Easygoing, well-adjusted. Not afraid to enjoy moments for what they were rather than what they could be.

"You're half-naked beneath me on my couch, mousey. Looks like your wish is coming true." He nosed her cheek, now. "In my line of work, with all the revolving, random furs I meet, dalliances," he said, phrasing it gently, "are my primary fun." He mouthed her face repeatedly before huffing into a large ear, "You like fun, don't you?"

Meadow struggled for a response. The coyote had, while speaking, worked a paw into her pants. And was directly stimulating her clitoris. Rubbing, pressing upon it. But not roughly. He was gently massaging around it, skirting it. Then giving it intermittent, direct taps and touches. "Mm-h. I do." Oh, yes, she did. She liked fun. I'm going to have fun. This is actually going to happen!

"I've never had mouse pussy," he told her bluntly, pulling her panties down. His powerful nose sniffing audibly. Her scent. Ooh. "I've had skunk, moose, rabbit, bear ... hell, even orca. Never mouse."

"R-really ... " She'd never been with a coyote/husky thing, either. Or anything of the canine persuasion.

"You're wet, baby," he cooed, fingering her raw, slick vagina. Felt tight. And hot as hell. He wanted in. "You ever taken a knot?"

She shook her head. Her throat was dry. The way he was talking to her? Blunt, confident? A massive turn on. "Keep going," she panted.

"Mm-h," he grunted, sliding atop her. Fumbling with clothing. All of it, impatiently. His, hers, pants and boxers soon on the floor, her panties dangling around an ankle. He bumped. Prodded. She kicked her panties aside. There was nothing but fur between them, now. "I like you naked," he huffed, simply. "Better this way." His tapered, canine cock slid parallel her labia for a while. Rubbing, rubbing, before angling perpendicularly, pointing at her slick, hot tunnel. "You ready?" he whispered, warmly.

Meadow's heart was hammering. "Yes," she managed. She didn't remember the last time she'd wanted anyone this badly. She wanted him to dominate her. To fill her, cover her. Rock her. Protect her. To drive her into ecstasy. She wanted his cock! "Please ... "

Homer sank in, immediately. Gently, carefully. Inch by inch. "Goddamn," he mouthed silently, trying not to grin.

"W-what?" she panted with a whimper. He was thick. And she felt every millimeter of him.

"Nothin', hun ... you feel great." He tried not to moan. "Just, ah, relax," he insisted, repeating his personal mantra.

The harvest mouse nodded.

He began to thrust. Slowly, at first, letting her adapt to his girth. But a minute hadn't passed before he was steadily humping, furry balls lightly slapping against her vulva. He couldn't help himself. The slick, velvety friction. It just felt too good. He wedged himself deeply, angling here, there. Thrusting toward the upper wall. Then the lower. Grinding his hips against hers, trying to make contact with her clitoris. Trying to find what worked best for her.

Legs wrapping around the male, she squeaked sharply. Whiskers wild and tail flailing.

"Ah-h. Good?" His broad tongue was lolling out of his mouth, saliva dripping freely. He did it again. That thing. She whined like a beast. "Ah-h, I got you now. Mm, right there ... ? Yeah, moan, baby," he panted, gyrating his hips.

She did. Pitifully. Oh, god, oh ... god! Her golden paws were all over his backside, reaching for his rump. Pulling at him. Clinging. More, more!

Breaths becoming erratic, the mutt slowed his humps. Then stopped. He pulled his erection out of her, and it bobbled upright, rigid, glistening with fluid. Pre beading from the tip. "On your belly. On the bed." It would be easier to knot her in a feral position. On the wider, more stable mattress. Especially since this would be her first time taking one. "Can you walk?"

"Um ... " Her legs were like jelly. "No?"

"No prob." He scooped her up, carrying her to his bed. The journey only took a few seconds. Once there, he tossed her onto the mattress, onto her breasts and belly.

The female bounced and squeaked, losing her breath.

The predator immediately crawled after her. Grabbing her curvy hips. Pinning her down, firmly.

She wriggled with arousal, lifting her rump, flowery folds visible amidst her thicker, golden loin-fur.

Homer yanked her pink, ropy tail out of the way, slapping that furry ass and breathing heavily as he aligned himself. Her sex was pouting. He reentered her without ceremony. "Uh-h." Immediately thrusting, his shaft glistening. Squelching as it mined her depths. He rocked her forward and down. Hump, hump! Bump!

The mouse was rocked forward, curling her tail around his waist. Anchoring them together. She managed to reach a paw between her legs, frantically playing at her clitoris. Time ceased to be. Everything blurred. There was only her being bred by him. Only a rising, climbing pleasure. She heard the slapping. Felt it. Assumed it was his sac. And then realized, through the haze, that she wasn't feeling fur against her sex. His sac was thickly furred. No. No, that was his ...

Bump!

The mouse's eyes flew open, comically wide.

POP!

She gasped!

KNOT!

The coyote grunted and growled, feeling a strong, instinctual victory at having tied with the female, ensuring her womb would take his seed. She'd have no choice. He hotly huffed on her nape. "Gah, you're so tight ... uhn, yeah. Mm-h ... " Full thrusts were no longer possible. Not like before. His swollen, capillary-laced knot, throbbing with blood, had wedged inside her. Very snugly. Either, as a mouse, she was tighter than the females he usually did this with, or he'd been that horny to start. He suspected both.

Meadow couldn't move. Couldn't breathe, at first. And then, "Ah! Hah. Huh ... " A string of quick, desperate breaths.

"Like a proper bitch," he approved, hotly, forehead-fur matted with sweat. Her sweet, succulent pussy strained and clenched, its smooth, delicate walls desperately trying to conform to the 'battering ram' it had been speared with. Trying. And failing. It filled her so completely. Homer began to gyrate his hips, giving half and quarter-thrusts. Any friction would do, at this point. He was so close! "Yeah. Fuck, yeah ... oh ... "

Whining, the mouse's vagina clenched again, haplessly. Spastically, almost violently this time. It wasn't voluntary. Her clitoris buzzed. Her furred fingers grazed it, nerves sizzling with delight. There! Oh, there! There was a lewd slurping noise as her sex rippled and rocked against the intruding knot, squirting. A little gush of nectar. The pretty mouse, in orgasm, squeaked and chittered deliriously. "Oh-h! Oh ... gah, ah ... "

"Oh, mousey!" His penis tingled. It was a wonderful, addicting feeling, and it quickly got better and better, and then became absolutely unbearable. Feeling her go off was the cherry on top. "Uh-n, gonna ... cum! Guh! UH!" His cock jerked, hard. Ejaculating. He flooded her with hybrid semen. Several creamy bursts. And, then ... then! He sighed and slumped. "Ooh. Yeah." He groped her ropy-tailed ass.

"Mm-f," she responded, melting under his weight. Pushing back against him, weakly.

Homer's arms then moved to a hug. "Mm-h."

They both went quiet, regaining their breaths.

Nuzzling, cuddling.

After a minute, maybe two, Meadow gathered herself enough to ask, "How long are we, uh ... "

"Stuck together? Mm." He licked and lapped at her nape-fur, matting huge swaths of her pelt. She made the cutest mouse noises as he did so. "Usually ten minutes. Up to a half-hour. Longest in my life was over forty. Heh. But I was eighteen, then. You really turned me on, though, so ... " A sheepish smile. One she couldn't see. "Could be a while?"

"I understand." She sounded only half-there. Afterglow. "Homer. You were ... that was ... " She couldn't find the right words. When's the last time sex had felt that freeing? That wild and cathartic? That downright good! Had it ever? Why can't I feel like this more often?

"Thanks, Meadow."

"You're welcome," she whispered.

Five minutes later, he tested the knot. Pulling back slowly, gently.

"Eh, eh!" she yelped in alarm. What the ... ? That definitely didn't feel like it had during the throes of intercourse!

"Sorry," he said, letting up. "Did it hurt?"

"Just a little." She bit her lip, the pain subsiding. "I'm fine ... " I'm going to be sore in the morning, aren't I? Well. It was worth it.

"Yeah. I'm still stuck ... " He moved a paw to their genitals, prying around with his fingers. Nope. They were locked in this feral position for a while longer.

"I'm ... it's fine. I'm just so tired, now," was all she could say, unsuccessfully fighting a yawn. The fatigue blindsided her like a truck. It was shocking. She'd been so awake, and then ... and now? Her muzzle opened wide, buckteeth flashing. "Ah-m!" Yawn! Lips smacking. A deep, drifting sigh, her eyelids heavy. "I ... I wanna ... " She needed to sleep so badly.

"Careful. Those are ... " He yawned, as well. "Contagious." His tail wagged, lazily.

"I'm ... sleepy," she breathed. What the hell time was it? Four in the morning, now? She was losing track. She couldn't keep her eyes open. Should I be embarrassed? Falling to sleep stuck to a coyote's cock? Not the most elegant, proper situation to be in. Good thing she was far from home. This is between him and me.

"Close your eyes, then. Rest. We'll go to sleep ... I'll be with you. Here, though." Homer rolled them so that she was on top. Still tied to him. But laying back on his belly and chest. "More comfortable, right? Don't wanna crush you!"

"Thanks," she whispered, eyes peeking open. Shadows on the ceiling. Dancing. Watching her. Tendrils of the Midnight Sun. Her eyes fell shut again. She felt her tail being stroked. Or did she? Everything was a phantom, now. Ghostly. Slipping away. But, oh, he was so fluffy and warm. He was so ... so very ... very ...

When her eyes blinked open, she almost forgot where she was. This isn't my room! Oh. Wait. Right. Groggily clearing her throat, she tried to sit up. What ... what had happened? She couldn't raise up, though, because a white and tawny-furred arm was around her. A masculine, muscled arm. Homer. So, that wasn't a dream?

A dimpled smile spread across her face. A bevy of feelings rushed through her. Excitement. Arousal. Worry. Regret. A one-night stand? In the Alaskan wilderness? I never would've done this a year ago. Well, Meadow, you came out here because you wanted new experiences. Yeah? You can hardly complain when you get them! And she wasn't. She definitely wasn't complaining.

The harvest mouse carefully pried Homer's big paw off her, moving his arm. She sat up, rubbing at her face. Swiping at her whiskers. And then stood, naked, ropy tail threading through the air. She could smell the remnants of their union. Feel it, too. Her loin-fur was matted and sticky. Not the most attractive look ...

"Mm-h. Where you going," mumbled the coyote. How long had he been awake?

"Mm? Um. Bathroom."

"Hurry back," he slurred, head half-buried in the middle of a pillow. Eyes still shut.

The mouse just nodded and went to take care of her business. When she returned, she wriggled back beneath the sheets.

"Mm," he groaned, wrapping her up again. Cupping a breast. "Mousey."

She shivered, happily. "Yes?"

"Time is it?" was his fragmented question.

"Um ... 9:40." Way past lunchtime back home, she realized. How much sleep did I really get? Six hours? Less? Does it matter anymore?

"You coming to Fairbanks with me? We leave at noon, spend six, seven hours there before we gotta come back. Return around midnight? I know you gotta take a train back to Anchorage tomorrow."

She nodded and assured, "I'll come."

"Good. You'll like it."

She skipped a beat, smiling helplessly. She'd been doing a lot of that since last night. Her fingers traced his arm. "There's, um, a condition, though."

"Oh?"

She smiled in spite of herself. "Take me ... again?"

"Take you?" He murred, lowly. Eyes opening fully.

"Uh-huh."

"That's an awfully 'polite' request. You sure you don't mean 'fuck' or 'screw'?"

"Um. Heh ... "

"Knot, too?" he asked, counter-bargaining. Wearing a goofy, fanged smile. "Take it or leave it." He didn't always tie with the females he bred. Only the ones he really liked. Made him feel like he was properly 'claiming' them. He loved it when they squirmed around it.

"Okay." She lost her breath. The knot. The way it had stretched, filled her. Tying them together. It'd added a new dimension to sex. The submissive rodent had never felt so dominated. "Only if it's face-to-face this time." She licked her lips. She wanted to see his face when he came. I want to take that memory with me. Also, "We haven't properly kissed yet."

"Huh. You're right. That's a shame! Gotta remedy that." He lolled his tongue out of his maw. "Let me go brush my teeth and freshen up," he said, sitting up immediately. "Be right back, babe." Homer fondled one of her ears and hopped up, tail wagging as he went into the bathroom. Then called to her, "On second thought, let's just do it in the shower? I can pin you to the wall. You'll be able to kiss me plenty. Then we'll lay down and drip-dry while 'til my knot goes down."

"Heh. Um, sure ... " She wondered if she'd ever be that unabashed, that comfortable talking about sex? Maybe not. But as long as you're comfortable having it, Meadow ...

He poked his head out. "You aren't sore, are you?"

She was, actually. A little. But her libido hadn't been this strong in ages, and her desire trumped any potential discomfort. "I'm fine, Homer. I'm coming," Meadow replied, airily, getting out of his bed, a smile on her face. She took a deep, cleansing breath, hugging herself vulnerably as she moved toward him. The harvest mouse's vacation was in its twilight. She'd seen fjords, mountains, glaciers. So many natural wonders. But years from now, she knew she'd remember the sight of Homer's body the most. Sappy? Maybe. But the truth.

She'd remember him.

And the Midnight Sun.

Who knew insomnia could lead to such wonderful things?