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The sun hadn't even risen by the time the young weasel woke up, his eyes blurry from a night filled with dreams of chasing rings that wouldn't fall down through the forest, never quite catching up to them as he ran and ran. Shaking his head to clear it, the ermine looked over to his dresser, smiling in relief as he saw the half dozen glinting objects sitting so nicely on the small table. The dream had him wanting to venture outside, though. His food stash was growing low and with winter rapidly advancing in the northern woodlands, there was never a time where hunting wasn't a good idea.

Snacking on a few strips of dried rabbit, Ramone stretched out his limbs, skittering up through his warm burrow to meet the chilly edge of the early morning. Thankfully, his fur was beginning to thicken in response, giving him extra protection from the bite of the arctic winds. The sun only came up for a small portion of the day, barely melting the frost before it shrank below the horizon. All his normal prey were likely getting ready to hole up for the winter, the rabbits with their fat bellies, the visual imagery causing his salivary glans to drool just a little in response.

Ramone slurped as he looked around, making sure there wasn't any horrible owls around, even though he knew they mostly stayed put during the day. Sensing that the coast was clear, the weasel exited his earthy home and took a whiff of air, trying to catch the scent of any nearby prey. The only thing he caught was a puff of snow as it blew into his nostrils, making him sneeze and glare at the snowdrift in disgust. Turning away, Ramone darted off into the forest, knowing he could easily track his way back home; he had done it several times in blizzard like weather.

He hadn't traveled too great of a distance, maybe a few miles, when he heard the telltale chitter of a nearby rodent. Rodents were Ramone's favorite meals. They were easy to catch off guard at this time of the year, usually too focused on gathering up whatever remaining nuts and berries they could find before they'd hide in their dug out homes in just a few weeks. Having done his research well, the clever ermine already knew of the locations of three rabbit holes and two rat nests, but there was one species in particular he really, really liked.

Blending in with the snow, his newly formed pure white coat helping to hide all of him beyond his beady black eyes, Ramone peered around a tree and saw the bushy tail of a young squirrel chowing down on a few berries, a small stack of acorns and a pine cone not too far from where he was nibbling on a blueberry. The rodent was a bit overweight, clearly fattening himself up for the long snooze he'd take when the sun's presence became almost non existent and the land became as cold and bleak as the night sky above them.

The nearest tree to the squirrel was about eight strides away, the weasel counting them out in his mind, well aware of how far the bushy tailed rodent could travel with each wild, frantic stride. Mapping out his attack route, the weasel planned every movement precisely. Normally, eight paces would be a close enough distance for the rodent to get back to in time to scale his tree and avoid becoming an ermine's meal, but with his added weight, though not unsightly, it would slow him down just enough that Ramone knew the only way the squirrel would survive was if he tripped during his attack. There wasn't a chance that would happen.

Having locked on to his target, the ermine slipped just a step or two closer, his ears low to his head to hide their black tips as he advanced. Waiting for that perfect moment, his flexible spine kept him comfortably still for the half minute it took for the squirrel to nervously look away and snag another piece of fruit.

He would never get to eat it.

With the stealth of an assassin and the speed of an arrow, Ramone sprung, launching himself at the rodent, closing the distance in just three seconds. In that small window, the squirrel turned and sprinted towards the tree behind him, going right for the one the ermine had calculated he would. Even with the lightning speed of the weasel, the heavy set squirrel made it to his tree in time, but he didn't climb up more than a foot of its bark before he cried out, the weight of a ferocious ermine slamming into him and then latching on.

Vulnerable and incapable of defending himself while on the tree, the squirrel let go, falling backwards, in hopes that he could better fight on the ground. When they landed, the tussle of life began, the squirrel bucking and kicking, screeching in terror and fury as he tried to roll himself over in order to dig his sharp, rodent incisors into his attacker's side, face, ear, anything that might get him to release his ever tightening hold. He beat his arms into the weasel's chest, but his grip didn't loosen. Fighting with all he had in him, the rodent twisted violently, managing to break his legs free of the predator, but before he could build off the advantage, he felt razor sharp teeth sink into the back of his neck.

Stars danced in his vision as pain surged more adrenaline into his frame, the sensation of rivulets of blood seeping down his back, making him fight with every reserve his body contained. Had it been an earlier time in the year, he might have broken free, but the ermine was toned and lithe, built and enduring, outlasting the rodent as it gasped for air even as it rolled through the dirt several times. The weasel's legs wrapped over his own, stretching him out as he snaked his arms under the rodent's armpits, forcing his chest to the ground before rolling him over again, leaving his prone belly facing the sky, his eyes to gaze at his home for just a bit longer before the world would fade into blackness.

However, Ramone found that his libido had skyrocketed, his weaselhood out and firm from the heavily laced blood rushing through him. He had the squirrel and he and it both knew that escape was no longer an option. Using his insanely flexible spine, the ermine pushed his hips lower, hearing the rodent meep in horror as his hooked penis slid over his rump and then snaked in between his legs, settling in just over his tail. In hopeless embarrassment, the rodent comically lifted his tail up, using it to cover the humiliating sight as he chittered in agony as the hooked dick roughly slammed up against and then into his small, tight anus.

Chuckling into the rodent's bloody neck, Ramone used his own adept tail to wrap around the base of his prey's tail pulling the appendage back down to expose him once more, just in time for him to lean back. His cock sang quite happily as he slid back to his tip and then drove forward again, hilting the hissing squirrel and flexing his rod before slipping back out. He repeated this action again and again, his paws drifting over the rodent's exposed and vulnerable form, finding the male's nipples and giving them a tight pinch and twist as he continued to buck into the violated squirrel's depths.

The weasel hadn't let a load loose in weeks and his prey's asshole was proving to be an incredibly glorious sheath to sink into. His balls patted up against the squirrel's taut ones with each thrust, the ride becoming smoother as his frantically dripping member spilled and spread his natural lubrication all over his passage. By now, the rodent was gripping into the ermine's sides, but not in a way of defense, but rather a show as if he was trying to keep a grip on his own self. Letting go of the beaten rodent's neck, Ramone snaked his head upwards, grinning wildly as he caught the sight of a dark red member throbbing on top of the rodent's chest, its tapered tip oozing out its own translucent fluid with each severe pump his would-be-killer's hips.

Wrapping his arms tightly around the squirrel's chest, he brought his fingers up to his nipples, squeezing them deftly, his claws pressing against the hardened nubs as he neared his peak. White stars danced in front of his face, his world going red just as delirious ecstasy poured through him, his teeth finding the prone squirrel's nape yet again as he sunk in one final time and then cried out as he began to seed his prey, adding in his own flavor that would make his meal just taste that much better.

Lewd moans could be heard above him as the rodent was filled, his own shaft throbbing and dancing on his chest. He felt warm even in the cold air as the ermine's spunk flooded his depths. Going limp as the last of his semen spilled out onto his tail, he gasped for breath, feeling his captor's teeth release his neck once more. When he felt them once more, this time warmly drawing his desperate dick inside, he shuddered and then chirped, his hips involuntarily bucking, sinking his whole length into the ermine's maw.

Ramone chuckled and then began to bob up and down on the dark red spire, relishing the cries of both lingering pain and stuttering breaths and shudders of growing joy as he heard the rodent cry out in rapture. His staff stiffened before erupting, the weasel more than eager to down each and every spurt of semen the beautiful male squirrel could produce. He rolled and massaged his tight orbs squeezing tightly on his rod until there wasn't a drop left to suck out and his prey languished in exhaustion upon his chest.

Leaning back, the weasel brushed a paw gently over his frame, relaxing his hold and just sliding his arms around his chest in a friendly embrace as he waited for the exhausted and spent rodent to catch his breath and wits. Peeling his head back, Ramone spent a minute or two lapping up the matted blood, ensuring to clean his puncture holes and cover them in saliva to help protect against any infection. After a few minutes of closeness, the stoat laughed gently and gave the squirrel a soft nip on his long ear.

"Dillon, sometimes I think you want me to catch you so much, you're willing to risk your life just in the hope that it is me. If that had been any other ermine, you wouldn't be breathing right now."

"Rammy, I knew it was you from the moment I caught your scent when you pulled me from the tree. Besides, no one else would have just latched on and pulled me off instead of slicing my side wide open. You got me good, though. I doubt I'll have the energy to even crawl up my tree for hours."

"Ah, do you really want to stay up in a lousy tree? I've got an open spot I dug out as storage and it's more than big enough to hold your stash. Plus, if necessary, I can just go out and bring some more back, since I won't be a sleepyhead like you."

"After this, I don't think I could say no, even if I wanted to. It's going to take some time to move it all, though."

"Ah, don't worry about that, we can do it together. My burrow is a lot warmer than any tree. You'll like it there a lot more, plus you'll have a weasel to cuddle with each night."

Dillon just nodded, so spent that he just closed his eyes and began to snore softly. Nuzzling him affectionately, the weasel slid out with soothing grace, turning around to clean up the mess he made of his friend's rump. He knew it was a relationship that was an utter abomination against nature, but there were countless benefits. Semen was surprisingly filling and the salty flavor made his taste buds tingle. Still, though, he needed his meat, and he knew just the right rabbit hole where he could find food far less attractive and a lot more stringy.

It took Ramone less than a few minutes to reach the closest of the three rabbit holes and he could even hear the sounds of snoring rabbits inside. Shaking his head at their continued stupidity, the ermine strode forward to the entrance. There were so many bunnies and they multiplied so quickly that it was just obvious that they were meant to be eaten. When he arrived, he chuckled at how they never learned. Yet again, they had posted a guard, and yet again, he was too busy complaining to himself about how cold he was, spending little time focusing on the approaching ermine.

When he did look, all he got out was one choking scream, the two animals rolling down the mound as the worthless shed of fur tried to run. Unlike his squirrel friend, there was nothing ferocious about his tries for escape. He twisted this way and that, but Ramone quickly dug all four of his paws into his sides and viciously raked backwards. His prey screamed again as blood splattered out of his slashed sides, the weasel's intent no longer to build libido and adrenaline, but rather to end his prey's life faster than it took for two bunnies to create it.

Shreds of flesh were torn out of his sides as the ermine's razor sharp claws dug in again. The rabbit stumbled and fell, Ramone quickly slithering underneath it to latch onto its neck. His canines found purchase and sunk deep, far deeper than his love hold had with Dillon. Blood oozed from the holes, but the ermine had little desire to wait for his meal to bleed out. Using the surprising strength of his jaw, Ramone crushed the rodent's windpipe, silencing his screams as the dying rabbit kicked futily against the guarantee of death, his blood spitting onto the weasel's grinning face. His guts were exposed , the white bone of his ribs nearly visible, and then he stopped. Letting out one last sputtering cough, the rabbit expired from the world of the living.

By now, the yells of the awakened rabbits were easy to hear, as they ran from their home, crying out in terror. They darted off into the forest, over a dozen of them leaving the hole before their cries disappeared into the night. If Dillon was awake, he would know why they cried, but Ramone doubted he would feel too much sympathy. Just as his squirrel ate berries, acorns and nuts to live, the weasel had his own diet, a hunger of his own that he had to quench. Wasting no time, he did so, tearing eagerly into the freshly killed veal, snarling in pleasure as he ripped shred after shred from the dead body.

His lips and muzzle were stained red by the time he let out a long burp, a third of the rabbit gone, but his belly almost uncomfortably full. Picking the rest of his meal up with his teeth, he proceeded to take it back to his hole. Dillon would have likely awoken by now, and if he was smart, and Ramone knew he was, he'd have either hidden in his tree or made his way to the offered burrow. One look at the clouds told the weasel that tonight was going to be bitterly cold and likely a snowy one.

The sun had set and the wind had already picked up by the time Ramone drug the remainder of his kill into his burrow. He traveled through the few separating corridors before arriving at his stash, adding the big rabbit inside, knowing that it would feed him well for the next week. On his way out, the ermine could hear the unmistakable pants of a shivering rodent, and he was happy to see his pal making his way near, though it looked like Dillon was having trouble seeing in the now furiously blowing wind.

Ramone quickly leapt forward and bounded over to him, nuzzling him and telling him to bite down on his tail so he could lead him inside. The squirrel did so with relief, having been worried he'd die in the sudden snowstorm. A minute later and the stoat and squirrel were happily embracing each other, Ramone softly melting his friend's frozen shut eyes. When he could open them again, the two kissed, chittering to each other in the relief that the other was okay.

Dillon could taste the lingering blood on the stoat's lips, but he didn't mind at all. As his body began to warm up, so did his energy, and with it, he felt arousal begin to build in him again. Rolling his paws over the white fur of his lover's back, he let out a long moan, announcing his intentions with a lewd thrust forward. Ramone was only too happy to oblige, pulling him close and grinding their groins together before dragging him deep inside to his room.

Pulling the rodent up onto the bed with him, Ramone rolled over to lay on top of his mate, his lips quickly diving down to suckle around one of his nipples. He heard the squirrel squeak in pleasure, his ears perking as he began to roll his tongue around the rock hard nub, still stiff from the blistering cold they just left a few minutes before. The weasel was still too satisfied from his earlier expenditure with the rodent along with his kill to feel aroused, but he knew how horny his rodent friend was.

His tongue rasped all over his nub as Dillon shivered in his tight embrace, his bushy tail flicking this way and that as the weasel drove on with his prey. Paws drifted over his sides, far more careful and loving than they were with the rabbit an hour or so ago. While Ramone had grown up, he had always felt like there was something special about squirrels, finding them incredibly endearing in how ferociously they fought to live. His mother and two brothers had found it to be very odd, but when she brought in a baby squirrel for them to use as hunting practice, he had just stayed back with a sad look in his eyes as his brothers tore it apart.

When he had later moved out to live his own life, and found a squirrel shivering in the cold, a broken leg twisted behind him after he had fallen from a branch after a huge gust of wind, Ramone had approached him. Even with the disfigured limb, the rodent had stood his ground, fighting him with all he had until he realized that the ermine wasn't trying to eat him, but rather was using some thick grass to try to splint it. Starting at him in complete shock, he hadn't dared to do more than breathe after it was set.

Taking him back to his burrow, the weasel had nursed him back to health, but at the same time, made many explicit sexual advances upon him, finding quickly that he took a really strong liking to the males of his species. After a few gentle romps as Dillon healed, the weasel had promised him that he would never be eaten so long as he stayed near enough to his burrow that they ran into each other ever so often.

Now, there was no mistaking the loving look in the squirrel's eyes as the weasel let go of his nipple, shifting his grip to give his chest fur several licks before buying his muzzle into his navel. Snaking his tongue into the small hole, he let his member go wild, tickling the shaking rodent as his paws firmly massaged Dillon's rump before sliding down to caress his tail and tickle at his inner thighs. By the time the weasel sunk his lips around his love's plump shaft, he was hard as a rock and as leaky as a flowing stream. Ramone murred and dooked as he suckled on the squirrel's length, slurping up and down just a bit as he rolled the orbs around in his paw, his other one moving down to give firm squeezes to the base of his tail.

Dillon's eyes squeezed shut as he panted, the tension and pleasure helping to sap all the remaining cold from his body, the warm straw bed underneath him comforting, but nothing compared to his lovely hunter that was gobbling up everything his staff could feed him. His chest heaved erratically, his peak rapidly approaching, knowing that Ramone never liked to let up, bur rather just bring him over his edge as swiftly and blissfully as he could. That edge came quickly, the burning glory of sun-like heat blazing up his rod before his tip blasted the fluid into the eager mustelid's maw.

Each throb was a new train wreck of ecstasy, the hot confines of his lover's mouth sucking him dry while he squeezed his balls to drain out as much as he could. Collapsing on the straw bedding, the squirrel thanked whatever perverted god caused this unnatural partnership, his eyes rolling behind his head as he cooed, the weasel's tongue still lashing around his over sensitive prick for a few more seconds before he slid off and then playfully pounced into his chest and brought him into another hug.

"Just keep making more of that, squirrel and you'll never have to worry about me going hungry."

Dillon could just manage a short, almost tearful laugh as his purely spent, exhausted form nuzzled into the warm hold of the weasel next to him. Moaning in pleasure, he felt the warmth of a soft blanket pulled over them both as the weasel gave him a kiss goodnight before tucking them both in for the evening.