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Martian Baby Mama

Part 2

A Biker Mice from Mars fanfiction

By Gideon Kalve Jarvis

Commissioned by JadeStyx

Author's Note: All characters are copyright Genesis Entertainment (among others); the author makes no profit from this story. This story takes place after the ending of the 2006 continuation of the series.

_ _

Sites recommended for further enjoyment of this story: http://www.oocities.org/stoker1439/BikerMice/depth/love/main.htm for the explanation of relationships in the series; and both http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biker\_Mice\_from\_Mars and

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Biker\_Mice\_from\_Mars\_%282006\_TV\_series%29 for good information about the two series that inspired this story.

Carbine stood in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. Fresh from the shower (and after so many years, there was now enough water on Mars for a proper shower), her fur dry, the former Resistance leader looked her body up and down appraisingly. Long, skinny legs, made for running, and a figure that was way too boyish for her liking. She felt she was too skinny, really, a state brought about by too many missed meals and too many days and nights of constant activity when there just wasn't time to eat or to rest. Her butt was flat, her breasts almost as bad, tiny things with darker dots to mark the nipples, hardly enough to draw the eyes of any boy mouse. Brushing aside her long, dark hair, the light grey-furred mousefemme heaved a long sigh, her eyes fixing, not for the first time, on the scar that tainted her face, running ragged across the bridge of her nose.

“No wonder Throttle's spent so much time on Earth," she told her reflection. “I can barely stand the sight of me. How could I expect anything different from him?"

It had actually been three months now since the Biker Mice from Mars – Throttle, Vinnie, and Modo – had brought about the downfall of the many forces threatening both Mars and Earth, bringing peace to both planets. Three long, lonely months for Carbine, as she wrangled the politics of Mars into shape, while Throttle and his bros spent their time on Earth, doing their necessary part to help stabilize the planet in the power vacuum created by the sudden overthrow of the tyrants.

There was another reason Throttle had stayed on Earth, though. Carbine was pretty sure that Throttle thought she didn't know about the other reason, but she did. The other reason Throttle was still on Earth was Charley Davidson.

Looking once more at the scar on her face, and then down at her body – too skinny by far to be really, truly beautiful – Carbine could hardly blame the peach-furred male. But it wasn't just looks, was it? She didn't think Throttle was so shallow – though looks certainly played a part – to leave her just because she wasn't as good-looking as Charley. No, Charley had a better personality, a gentler disposition, a more caring, giving nature than Carbine ever would. Carbine gave of herself for the Resistance, for the people she led, and for the cause of Mars. Charley, on the other hand, gave of herself for her friends. Carbine had pushed Throttle away more times than she could count, because she thought the Resistance was all the most important thing. In direct contrast, Charley was always there for Throttle and his bros, no matter what. Was it any wonder that Throttle wouldn't come back to her, now that it was possible? Now that the war was finally over.

Despite her belief that it was Charley Davidson that had drawn the eye of the one she loved, Carbine couldn't find it in herself to feel jealousy. After all, she'd brought all her present loss on herself; she was the only person who deserved any blame.

Turning from the mirror, the grey-furred mouse reached for her underwear. A less critical eye would have had a far less unfavorable impression of Carbine's figure. Skinny or boyish is how she would describe herself, but while she wasn't voluptuous by any means, she was very obviously a woman. Beneath her short-trimmed fur, her body was toned, sleek, and tight with compact muscle, her breasts pert and petite – easy mouthfuls for a male Martian mouse. Her face was delicately-boned, and besides the scar running jaggedly down the left side of her face from the bridge of her nose to just below her cheekbone, her face was actually quite pretty. If the truth were told, the scar might actually be thought to accentuate her looks, adding character and approachability to a face that could otherwise be so cold and aristocratic in its beauty.

But Carbine saw none of this; all she saw were the flaws, the scar on her face the worst flaw of them all. After all, Martian mice had worked for centuries to breed out even the least failing in their bodies. To bear open scars and blemishes was considered gauche at best. She had to admit to herself, though, that she was lucky: hers, at least, was small, and mostly blended into her fur. She could have ended up like Vinnie instead, forced to wear a flexsteel plate to conceal his wounds, or the mousegirl, Harley, that he'd loved before her disappearance.

Caught up in her brooding as she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in panties and bra, her clothes for the day draped on the bed of her quarters, Carbine almost missed the soft buzz of the phone. Almost, but not quite. Turning, she scooped up the receiver in one hand, the other lifting her pants, holding them open while she stepped into them.

“Hello?"

Carbine listened for a few moments, her eyes growing wide at what she was told.

“Really?" she said, her mouth spreading into a smile. “Today? Why didn't he…ah, I see. All right, I'll meet them at the transit station. Goodbye."

Throttle was coming home! It took all of Carbine's willpower to keep from squealing like a little girl at the thought of his return to Mars, arriving at the instant transport station between Mars and Earth in just a few hours. According to Rimfire, Modo's nephew and the one to bring her the news, Throttle and the bros were acting fast and quiet like they were because they didn't want to attract any unnecessary media attention. After all, they were heroes, and right now, what they wanted more than anything else was a little privacy.

After all, Charley Davidson was pregnant.

Carbine's first impulse was to leap to all manner of conclusions about how such a thing could have happened. Rimfire hadn't known any details, and probably wouldn't have talked about them if he did – the boy was such an ingénue sometimes, and though it made him endearing, it hardly made him a useful source of good gossip. After a moment's consideration, however, Carbine decided she didn't really care: Martian mice hadn't had much use for marriage or monogamy for…well, longer than Carbine had been alive, really. While there was still the lingering impulse to want sole rights to someone, Carbine didn't find it too hard to set such selfish desires aside. After all, more than anything else, she wanted Throttle, and she didn't care if she had to share him in order to have him.

Tugging her long duster over her many-pocketed vest, Carbine went down the stairs of the newly-finished apartment building where she lived, modeled after some of Chicago's finest architecture, and hurried to her bike. If she wanted to meet the bros at the transit station, she'd have to hurry.

*

“Ngh," groaned Charley Davidson as Vinnie slowly stroked his red antennae over the human woman's visibly pregnant belly. “I can't believe how much that turns me on!"

Little sparks flashing from the tips of his antennae to Charley's smooth skin – she'd taken to wearing very short t-shirts and sports bras along with sweat pants and gym shorts since her clothes started to get snug – making Charley shudder all over, before Vinnie grinned up at the auburn-haired human. Putting a gentle hand on her slightly swollen tummy, then his other hand on Harley's own gold-furred belly as the mousewoman sat nearby, the white-furred mouse shrugged.

“It's just how we Martian mice bond with our children," he explained. “I'm imprinting on our daughter."

“You're sure it's a girl, huh?" Charley playfully challenged, reaching down to gently caress Vinnie's antennae with her hands, making the white-furred biker mouse shiver just like he'd made her shiver.

“He's sure," Harley answered with a shrug of her own. “Believe me, you can always tell. Once the baby cums, you always know if it's a boy or a girl."

“You just made my unborn daughter orgasm?" said Charley with an astonished expression, before her expression turned teasing once more. “What kind of pervert are you, anyway, Vinnie?"

“She didn't cum right then," laughed Harley, while Vinnie blushed furiously. “Believe me, you'd have known it if she had." The gold-furred mousegirl stroked her own plump tummy with obvious affection. “The first time my son came, I was blissed out for almost an hour."

“Just three months and already having orgasms," Charley murmured in amazement. “That's so unreal."

“Maybe," agreed Harley, “but it's true. Of course, we don't do things like that once the baby is born, at least until he or she is physically mature enough to handle it. Right now, though, our babies are essentially a part of our bodies, completely dependent on us. What they feel, we feel, and what we feel, so do they. At least, that's how it is for us Martians. I really don't know what it's like for humans. Since you've got a Martian baby in you, though, I'd guess that you'll be experiencing what I'm going through. Maybe a little bit less," the mousegirl amended with a slight nod to admit her lack of certainty.

“How do you know so much about Martian babies?" Charley asked with a light grin, before shuddering again as Vinnie continued slowly stroking his antennae over her bare belly.

“My mother told me, of course," Harley answered readily. “It was a part of the Talk. That, and I learned a lot from the Nomad Rats while I was with them. They're a lot more focused on making babies than we mice are; comes from their rough lifestyle, I guess. I was just lucky mice and rats can't interbreed, or this," she rested a hand on her tummy, “wouldn't be my first."

“And a whole year of this, too," Charley murmured wonderingly, glancing out the window of the transport craft, letting her mind wander to the starscape visible outside (it was only a projection, of course – the transport took its passengers through null space, which wasn't terribly interesting in appearance), her thoughts somehow finding a connection between the infinite expanse of space and the new life growing within her, though the thoughts weren't formed enough to be properly articulated. “At least there's been no morning sickness."

“We bred that out about a thousand years ago," Harley stated proudly, before her face fell, and one hand went to the scars only barely hidden by the bangs of her wavy dark blonde hair. “Of course, there are disadvantages to a society that puts so much emphasis on physical perfection."

“Tell me about it," laughed Modo, seated across from Vinnie and the two women, Throttle only an arm's distance from the dark-furred male – specifically his cyborg arm, which he flexed to draw attention to it. “Been hard to find dates on Mars with pretty looks like mine. Losing the eye's one thing, but the whole arm? I've had a lot more luck on Earth."

Charley and Harley both blushed at Modo's words. Since that night after they'd liberated the sister planets, Earth and Mars, and restored water to the barren Martian wastes, both women had shared themselves freely with the Biker Mice. When Modo said he'd had more luck on Earth, what he really meant was that he'd been enjoying the company of the two women opposite him, human and mouse. He'd especially been enjoying the fact that they allowed him to indulge himself in his biggest kink: anal sex. Considering that Modo was sizable, extremely so, he knew perfectly well how generous Charley and Harley were by allowing him to do with them as he pleased. If Modo hadn't been Charley's friend for life after all the tough times they'd been through during the revolution, he certainly was now.

“Hey, what about your girl, Throttle?" Vinnie suddenly chimed in. “You've been carrying a torch for Carbine pretty much all the time I've known you. Think you might settle down, maybe have some kids too?"

Up until then, Throttle had been silent, simply leaning back in his padded seat and quietly observing events, while his green-tinted shades made it seem as though he wasn't actually paying attention at all. Not that this was terribly unusual for Throttle, laconic soul that he typically was. When Vinnie asked his question, though, the peach-furred male's brow furrowed, and he looked away.

“I don't know," was all he said, and before the often-oblivious Vinnie could say anything else, both Charley and Harley put a hand on his shoulders, causing the white-furred mouse to pause, then blink as he realized his faux pas.

“Aw man," said Vinnie, climbing into his seat and strapping in as the warning light signaling their impending arrival on Mars came on. “I'm sorry, Throttle. I just didn't think."

“It's okay," answered Throttle, giving Vinnie a slight smile – as close as Throttle typically ever got to a friendly expression – to let the younger mouse know he wasn't upset at his bro. “It's just," he shrugged, his mouth turning down thoughtfully, “Carbine's her own woman. She's got lots of stuff she's gotta do. That stuff may or may not include me. If it doesn't, I don't wanna get in her way."

“You love her too much, man," said Modo sympathetically. “Too much to make her do things that would make her stop being who she is."

“Yeah," agreed Throttle before heaving the slightest of sighs.

“What if you can't keep her, bro?" asked Vinnie, his expression beneath his flex-steel mask one of deep concern. “You know we'll always be there for you, no matter what."

“Then I guess I start over," Throttle responded, shrugging as though he didn't feel anything at all, even while the other four in the cabin could feel the weight of the galaxy hanging on Throttle's shoulders from the tone of his voice. “But it's good to know you'll be there," he added, giving his friends a small, grateful smile. “We've always been there for each other, after all. Even when we didn't have anything else. Or anyone."

The light above the cabin door suddenly dinged on with a light tone, and the five friends strapped themselves in. While the transit between Earth and Mars was both fast and fairly safe, it could still be pretty bumpy at takeoff and landing. Harley especially didn't enjoy the transit, and gripped Vinnie's hand tightly; she got motion sick fairly easily, which was a big reason why she didn't ride Martian war bikes, but took roles as a mechanic instead during her time in the resistance, and with the Nomad Rats afterward.

“Guess this is the moment of truth," Throttle murmured softly to himself, the words inaudible to anyone except Modo, seated next to him.

*

“Moment of truth time," Carbine said to herself as she strode down the causeway leading to the landing zone. In front of her, only a short distance off, she could see the transit station lighting up, forming a swirling vortex of blue and black light. That was the signal that a transport was about to reach the other side of its jump between worlds, and at the sight, Carbine felt her heart skip more than a few beats. “Guess I'll never be any more ready than now," she admitted to herself, squaring her shoulders as she stopped at the safety cordon and waited.

There was a rush of wind and a great flash of light, and Carbine's duster went billowing out behind her, as did her long black hair. She'd taken extra care of her hair that morning, brushing it until it shone, and wishing she knew just about anything more than what she did about prettying herself up: which is to say, almost nothing. Being the general of the resistance didn't leave one a whole lot of time for social niceties, after all. Then, before Carbine's eyes, one moment there was an empty landing pad, and the next the transport had arrived.

“I can do this," Carbine thought to herself, taking several long, deep, steadying breaths. “I've ordered around men that were twice my size. I can handle meeting an old boyfriend, and his…other friends." Speculations or no, Carbine had to admit, she really wasn't sure what Throttle's new relationship with Charley Davidson was, and somehow she just couldn't find it in her to jump to conclusions – that wasn't fair to either her or Throttle. “And even if she's his woman," she continued to work out in her mind, “it's not like we've ever owned each other, is it? We can still be friends. And maybe we can still be something more."

That last thought came before Carbine could stop it, and the thoughts that followed on its tail immediately made her cheeks and the bridge of her nose flush, her nearly invisible whiskers fanning out to let off the heat of her sudden and uncontrollable blush. Of course, it was before Carbine could get herself under control that the rear hatch of the transport hissed with decompression, then lowered, and the object of Carbine's thoughts strode down onto the landing pad, as calm and confident and pure male as he'd ever been in her wildest fantasies.

Great galaxies, he'd never looked so good.

Only vaguely aware of the others behind the leader of the Biker Mice, Carbine simply stood there, completely unaware of the figure she cut against the light of the rising Martian sun, her hair and duster flowing in the lingering wind, her face flushed, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly parted. Throttle's eyes were on her – even without seeing them through his tinted shades, she knew he was looking at her. Feeling him looking at her, Carbine couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. All she could do was stand, and wait.

Then Throttle was past the cordon, and Carbine suddenly knew this was it, the moment she'd been dreading. Now was the time when everything came back, all the old grievances, all the times she'd spurned him for the sake of duty. She was completely at Throttle's mercy, and she knew it – welcomed it! As all her past transgressions against the man she loved played through her mind once more, too many for her to even try to count them, Carbine felt within herself that Throttle was within his rights to tell her off, to spurn her and tell her where she should go and how to get there. She deserved it! He was closer now, almost close enough to reach out and touch, and Carbine felt herself aching for the slap across the face she knew she deserved, but somehow knew Throttle would never deliver – he was just too much of a gentleman. He was more man than she had ever deserved.

Knowing she didn't deserve the one man she'd ever truly loved, Carbine was frozen like a mouse beneath the shadow of a hawk as Throttle came up to her. He was so close! She could smell him, he was just that close, his scent musky with a hint of sweetness, and despite herself, Carbine felt her eyes growing heavy-lidded as she just basked in his presence, knowing in her most secret hearts that this would probably be the last time she'd ever see the man she loved.

Then Throttle's arms were around her, and Carbine was limp in his powerful grip as he kissed her, cruel and savage and sweet and tender all at the same time. And just like that, Carbine knew it had all been forgiven, and everything would be all right. That was when she kissed him back.

*

“Vinnie's been a busy boy," Carbine quipped with a grin as she nestled happily into the crook of Throttle's arm. The luxury limo was standard transportation these days for Carbine, ever since she'd become the most powerful political leader on Mars, and she had to admit, the cushions were very nice indeed. Even nicer, she decided, with Throttle lounging on them, her cheek pressed close against his naked chest.

Across from Carbine and Throttle, Vinnie grinned like the cat that ate the canary, while Harley and Charley both blushed deeply, their hands going automatically to their pregnant tummies, while Vinnie's hands went over each of their shoulders. Carbine couldn't help but let her gaze linger on both beautiful women, especially Charley. Knowing that the baby in the human woman's belly wasn't Throttle's made her feel a little better, but at the same time, she felt a twinge of disappointment. After all, as gorgeous as Charley was, the hottest greasemonkey Carbine had ever known, if she'd been Throttle's mate, then perhaps there'd be room for three, or even more in the tan-furred mouse's bed.

Nearby, a light, subtle smirk on his face, Modo read Carbine's expression with ease. Now that Carbine wasn't the leader of the resistance anymore, she didn't work nearly so hard at hiding her true feelings, and Modo…well, Modo was the sort who'd long ago learned how to wait and watch.

“Guess you'll want to walk Vinnie's girls through their ritual purification, huh, Carbine?" he asked, his tone completely casual, making the subject seem quite natural, and not affected at all.

“Ritual purification?" asked Charley, blinking as she looked around at the mice in the auto-driven limo's rear section.

“It's an old custom," Harley explained, looking at Modo with newfound respect, as she'd also apparently picked up on Carbine's mood, but hadn't quite figured out how to respond to it. “Back when water was so rare, travelers were supposed to share a bath with the tribal leader of a Martian community. Since water was like blood, it was a way of tying the community together."

“Actually," Carbine added, “the ritual was even more important when the traveler was a pregnant woman. The tribal leader was supposed to personally take part in bathing the woman, to show total and complete acceptance of the woman, in case she gave birth within that community and needed the assistance of the rest of the tribe. Having babies was – and is – very important to us Martian mice; we've had so few for so very long, every pregnancy is a precious thing, and every birth a celebration." She smiled, feeling herself grow more relaxed as she fell into the role she was supposed to play, silently thanking Modo for his subtle help, and promising herself that she'd reward him properly in the very near future. “Both of you should probably get used to being touched a lot, especially by mousegirls. After all, not only are you pregnant, you're a human, Charley."

“Thanks for noticing," Charley laughed, the others joining in.

“Seriously, though," Harley added. “You're not just beautiful, Charley: you're also exotic. Even with such easy transportation between our worlds, there aren't many humans on Mars. Certainly no pregnant ones. To us mice, a pregnant woman is the height of beauty, so…um…well," she flushed, and grinned sheepishly up at Vinnie, “let's just say that I'm glad Vinnie isn't the jealous type."

By this point, Charley's eyes were absolutely huge, her cheeks deeply flushed, as the full import of what she'd just been told sank in. Not too long ago, she'd been…well, not uninterested in her own sex, but not really interested either. Just neutral on the subject. A chance encounter with Harley had been enough to change her mind quite thoroughly, and for the past three months she'd been getting even more mousemuff in her diet than mousecock – and there were three Biker Mice to Harley's one! There was just something so intensely erotic about the way another woman reached orgasm, something at once so familiar, and yet so exotic. Now, her hormones going crazy in the throes of her pregnancy, her lust at heights she'd never even thought possible, Charley was being hit on by Carbine, Throttle's girlfriend! And Throttle was watching the whole thing, that inscrutable smile firmly in place on his handsome face, his expression almost unreadable behind those dark glasses of his. At least, it would have been unreadable, if Charley didn't notice the more-than-sizable bulge running down one leg of the Biker Mice leader's blue jeans.

“I suppose," Carbine continued, “that since I'm the new leader of Mars, I really ought to act the part. Since we're going to take part in an ancient ritual – all of us," she added pointedly, glancing at each of the mouseboys in the limo, “I'm going to need a little preparation. But since the Biker Mice are heroes, it shouldn't take very long to make all the arrangements, only…oh, maybe an hour or two, I think. I'll just drop you off at the Grand Mars Hotel – ever since the revolution ended, that's been my headquarters. While you get comfortable, Throttle and I will be making a few calls."

*

“An hour or two, huh?" said Throttle as he followed Carbine into her private suite, quietly shutting the door behind him with a light flick of his surprisingly strong tail. “What's your rush?"

“There's just so much I want to say to you, Throttle," said Carbine, walking toward the large window that took up most of the far wall of the large bedroom suite where she made her headquarters. “It's been so long, and we've both changed. Can anything be the same?"

Carbine continued to talk, reaching out to rest one hand on the glass of the window, looking out at the afternoon sun. Her whole body was tense, and she radiated that nervous tension. Throttle just watched the grey-furred mousegirl for a short while, arching an eyebrow as he noticed how she wasn't looking at him – actually, she was probably deliberately avoiding looking at him while she just kept on trying to reason out her own tangled emotions.

Some things weren't meant to be solved by reason alone.

With Carbine looking out the window instead of at him, Throttle casually rolled his shoulders, letting his vest slide down his arms, before he tossed it over a nearby chair. Unbuckling his belt, he slowly peeled open the front of his jeans, then bent forward, pushing them down his strong, muscular legs. Throttle was the sort to wear boxers, since he enjoyed the loose fit (as opposed to Vinnie, who was a briefs kind of guy, and Modo, who tended to wear only a jockstrap), but it was only a matter of moments before those joined his jeans and vest, slung over the back of the same chair by the big table where Carbine had all her important papers stacked.

Naked save for his shades, Throttle approached Carbine from behind, his smooth pink penis sliding free of his sheath as he admired the woman he loved. Even in the midst of her pensive state, she was beautiful to him, utterly captivating. He wanted her, just like he'd always wanted her. To think any differently was, for him, completely impossible. Carbine felt guilt, duty, confusion, and concern. Throttle only felt his desire for her.

“I…I guess I'm just not sure if we can even make a relationship work. Now that I'm the leader of free Mars…"

“Do you want us to work?" asked Throttle suddenly, breaking off Carbine's words, making her give a soft gasp as one strong hand took hold of her hip. She didn't resist as he turned her around, looking up into his eyes, close enough now that she could see them even through the tint of his glasses. “I want you, Carbine. I want you the same as I've always wanted you. It's been a long war, we've had to go through so much, and now…now I'm tired of waiting. Right now, what I want, more than anything else on Earth or Mars…is you."

He was naked, Carbine realized then. While she'd been agonizing over the past and the future, Throttle had instead focused on the present. Perhaps, the dark-haired mousegirl realized, that was what was most important after all. Despite herself, despite all her efforts to be strong, to never show weakness, Carbine was trembling as Throttle pulled her close, her hands lifting to press against his broad, muscular chest, fingers just beneath the pink nipples sticking out through his tan fur.

“Throttle…" Carbine got out, but she had to admit she had no idea what it was that she intended to say. In the end, however, it didn't matter, because that was when Throttle kissed her.

To humans, a kiss is one of the most intimate actions, putting complete and total trust in one's partner while pressing together some of the most sensitive sensory organs at a human's disposal. To Martian mice, a kiss was even more intimate, even more trusting, because a proper Martian kiss means that the antennae touch as well. That, of course, was exactly what happened then, and Carbine couldn't hold back a needy whimper as a shock of raw erotic energy coursed through her body.

Skilled kisser that he was, Throttle turned his head slightly, moving his body firmly against Carbine's more slender form. His movements ensured that his own softly glowing antennae stroked hers until they, too, started to glow, albeit far brighter than his own. This was normal for Martian mousegirls: just like human women, mouse women were capable of experiencing vastly greater degrees of pleasure than their men, once they'd been properly awakened to that knowledge.

Gasping for breath, her face deeply flushed, it was all that Carbine could do to keep her feet as Throttle started to unbutton her shirt, taking his time, letting her watch with shivering anticipation as he exposed inch after inch of soft, supple mouseflesh. As her shirt fell open, Throttle deftly undid her bra's front clasps, her eyes glued to his hands the whole time as he parted her shirt and duster, almost, but not quite exposing her breasts, even as her bra fell to the floor at her feet.

Hands stroking outward, Throttle took his time, let Carbine feel herself being exposed to his shaded eyes, let her know fully just how much she was at his mercy as he opened her shirt, then her duster. At first Carbine hugged herself, covering her small breasts, embarrassed of them, heat rushing to her face. But then she dared to look at Throttle's face, at his sweet, giving smile, and she lowered her hands, letting his hands go to her shoulders, opening her shirt and duster with them. A light stroking of his fingers, and Carbine shivered lightly as her upper body was laid completely bare, her nipples so hard right then, they ached. The room was comfortably warm, even without her shirt, so Carbine knew it wasn't the chill that was making her nipples so erect.

Kissing her again, Throttle engulfed the grey mousegirl's breasts in his hands, handling them, squeezing them, mauling them. He was such a brute! As the kiss ended, Carbine whined, her whole body tense as he caressed the undersides, lifting the plump little mounds. This lifting, of course, made it all the easier for him as he lowered his head, his mouth closing around first one stiff nipple, then the other suckling slowly, wetly, his tongue doing talented lips doing things to Carbine's whole body that made her weak in the knees, the core of her being feeling as though it were turning to liquid fire. She couldn't breathe! He'd stolen that breath, her hands gripping his shoulders with desperate tightness as she cried out his name, wondering at how her whole body could be controlled by such a tiny pair of areas on her slender frame.

The crotch of her pants was soaked.

Continuing his slow striptease, Throttle's fingers unbuckled her belt, far more slender than his own, then began undoing the buttons of her trousers. Carbine lifted a hand to her mouth, biting down to stifle her whimper as she felt Throttle's wonderful, skilled hands caressing her naked stomach, then her hips, fingers hooking into the waist of her panties. He gave them a slight tug, and her trousers fell to the floor, before he knelt, taking his time, and taking her panties with him.

Unable to conceal how her legs trembled, Carbine was whimpering more loudly now, feeling herself so very damp between her legs at the thought of those eyes staring at her most precious place. For Carbine, it had been a very long time since she'd been able to find time for personal relief, let alone an opportunity for lovemaking with someone else. Now she was watching Throttle unlace her boots, and lifted each foot for him, one by one, as he pulled them off, leaving her naked feet to sink into the plush carpet of the suite. Her feet were surprisingly small and dainty…or perhaps not so surprising, since she was, in fact, such a petite and fine-boned mouse. If it weren't for her tendency to adopt an aggressive, dominant manner in every situation, refusing to let her control slip for even a moment, she could actually be truly, deeply beautiful.

Right then, she'd let that control completely slip.

“Ah!" she cried out as Throttle's hands caressed her inner thighs, her own hands going to his head, resting in the small gap between his ears and his antennae. “Th-throttle!"

Throttle only gave Carbine enough time to see his muzzle approaching her delicate folds, let her feel his hot breath on her tender flesh. Then he engulfed her lovely little cunny with his eager mouth, and in mere moments, the room was filled with the wet, luscious sounds of the tan-furred Biker Mouse almost literally devouring Carbine's delicious and very juicy quim, and the loud squeals and moans of Carbine herself as she arched her back, thrusting out her trim breasts, nipples still glistening with his saliva, her hips grinding against the tongue delving eagerly into her depths.

Lavishing all the care and attention that he'd been saving up for too many years now on the woman he loved, Throttle closed his eyes, just basking in the taste and smell of Carbine's most intimate places, and in the wonderful sounds of her desperate, pleasured moans. Soon, as he started to work his mouth even more firmly up and into her, his tongue delving against tender inner flesh that hadn't been properly stimulated for much, much too long, those moans rose in pitch and volume. That was when he opened his eyes, to better watch his love's beautiful face, flushed with the force of her pleasure, her mouth open wide to give proper voice to her feelings – to what he was doing to her.

Starting to lose control of her body, Carbine lifted one hand to her mouth, biting down on her pinky finger, while the other hand moved to right between Throttle's antennae. Right then, Carbine's antennae were glowing brightly in pulses as the pleasure washed over her, and then crashed through her as she screamed out Throttle's name, her hips jerking in violent spasms of raw orgasm.

Just when Carbine was sure she was about to lose her balance and fall to the plush carpet, Throttle was standing up, his hands slipping beneath her, lifting her into his arms like a blushing bride. And she was blushing! Looking up at Throttle's face, Carbine felt so small and vulnerable in his arms, and she buried her face against his bare chest, closing her eyes as the beautiful, masculine scent of him filled her nostrils. He was carrying her toward the bed, she knew, and she knew very well what he was going to do to her there, just as she knew there was nothing she could do to stop him now. Throttle might not show a lot of emotion, but once he got started, he was a beast in the bedroom!

Laying her down gently on the soft sheets, Throttle moved with a single, smooth motion, his lips kissing Carbine's at the same time he climbed up onto the bed. She felt his body covering her, felt his hands cup and then caress her lovely breasts once more even as his antennae touched hers, feeling the electric thrill of his mind caressing hers. Felt his penis, hard and hot against her thighs, straining with eagerness, but restrained by the will of the male himself; he wasn't through making love to Carbine. Hardly! He'd only just started!

“I love you, Carbine," said Throttle as his lips left hers. “I'll always love you. Never, ever forget that. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, no matter who you become, I'll always be there for you. I'll always wait for you. I'll never stop loving you."

The huskiness in his voice betrayed the depth of his emotion, even if his antennae against hers hadn't, and Carbine felt herself choking up a little as well, her whole body trembling beneath his powerful, beautiful male frame. There were tears in his eyes, she knew, even though she couldn't see them very well past his shades; just the tone of his voice made it obvious. As obvious as the complete and utter truth of his words: he would love her forever, no matter what.

Kissing Throttle's jaw, Carbine suddenly gripped his shoulders, then rolled him onto his back. Though Throttle could probably have resisted her if he'd wanted to, he didn't, allowing the slim grey mousegirl to take charge now.

“It's my turn to serve you," she said with a smile, her eyes widening as she leaned back slightly, feeling his pride prodding her pert rear. “I'd say at least part of you likes the idea."

Throttle didn't say anything, just watched as Carbine began kissing her way down his beautiful, smoothly-muscled body. The tan-furred mouse was like an exquisite sculpture, his years of hard fighting and harder riding having toned and shaped his muscles to sleek perfection. Calling his body beautiful, even if he was a man, wasn't inaccurate at all: he was gorgeous. And he was all Carbine's.

Luckily for Throttle, Carbine wasn't the selfish sort.

Even Throttle's resolve was pushed to its limits as the slim grey mousegirl on top of him kissed and then suckled on one of his pink nipples, exposed as she stroked her hands up through his chestfur. Not even Throttle could resist trembling a little, or hold back the soft moan her attentions brought out, his eyes closing as she shifted to the other nipple, and then started to kiss and nibble her way down his sleek-muscled body. He was so firm under her hands…mmm, and not just his muscles! Forcing herself to focus, Carbine didn't yield to the temptation to jump straight to the main course, focusing instead on the hors d'oeuvres as she nibbled his tasty tummy, tickling him a little with her tongue flicking into his navel, the one weak spot in the solid wall of his abdomen.. Then she was slowly running her tongue through the fur of the smooth, flat section of stomach just above his pubis, almost like a cat rather than a mouse, and then lower still…and lower…and…

“I need this," Carbine whispered, her tone desperate as she wrapped a hand around the base of Throttle's rigid penis, her other cupping and caressing the heavy orbs in the sac beneath, their ovular outlines clearly visible through the velvet-soft skin and short fur. Holding his shaft upright, Carbine's eyes grew heavy lidded as she paused there, panting, each hot breath making Throttle's body tense as the air brushed over the heavily-leaking tip of his cock.

“So do I," admitted Throttle, his voice tense, before his jaw tightened as Carbine eagerly engulfed his plump glans with her lips, suckling greedily, before pulling back with a pop.

Repeating this action once more, then swirling her tongue around and then into the slit at the tip, Carbine finally couldn't hold herself back any more – she was through with teasing! Desperate now to taste – really, fully taste – the male that she loved, Carbine sank her mouth all the way down on Throttle's pulsing penis. He was so big, if it weren't for Carbine's muzzle (short though it might be), and her intense desire to have all of him inside her, she wouldn't have had a chance to accomplish her goal. Fighting back tears in her eyes along with her gag reflex, Carbine looked up Throttle's body, to his face, her eyes wide, her expression eager to please. Her bare bottom, toned and small and delicate, was uplifted, her slender tail wiggling in her excitement and arousal as she started to bob her head. She'd gotten even more aroused than Throttle from all their foreplay, and she moaned loudly around her heavily-leaking muzzleful of mousecock, one hand brushing back her hair as it fell over her eyes, to make sure she didn't miss a single moment of watching Throttle's reaction to her efforts.

React he did, his belly taut and tense, his hands gripping the blanket beneath him, his toes curling. If he hadn't been exerting his whole will right then, he probably would have been kicking his legs and bucking his hips as well. As it was, every so often the tan-furred mousemale would shake his head, letting off a little excess erotic energy with that simple motion, his teeth gritted tightly, almost bared like a wild animal's. Even the thought that she could have that kind of effect on the man she loved left Carbine soaked, and she stopped even trying to hold back, her head bobbing faster, her lips tensing even more: she wanted his cum…now!

“Carbine…" Throttle managed to groan, one hand going to his head, the other gripping the sheets beneath him even more tightly, balling them into a tangled knot, and finally, despite all his efforts, his hips thrust upward, rump tense, tail lashing beneath his body, then standing straight out. “Carbine!"

That was all the warning Carbine got, and all the warning she needed, before she felt Throttle's balls tense beneath her chin, felt the pulse running along his shaft, and knew what was coming. What she didn't – couldn't – know was just how pent-up her boyfriend was. He'd been saving a lot for her! Her eyes growing huge and round at the sheer volume of thick, creamy mousecum pumping into her mouth, Carbine's cheeks swelled, and she couldn't stop a goodly amount from dribbling down her chin before she started to swallow convulsively, desperate not to waste any more of her perfect, precious lover's cum.

Tilting her head back as she rose up onto her trim haunches, Carbine made a show of swallowing the last drops of Throttle's cum. The sight, it seemed, had the desired effect, and more, as Throttle, healthy mouseboy that he was, swiftly regained his erection. Being a Martian mouse, and not a human, and an especially vigorous specimen at that, Throttle didn't have much of a refractory period. Of course, it didn't hurt one bit that he was in the presence not only of an astoundingly attractive mousegirl, but that he was head-over-wheels in love with her.

Seeing her lover's shaft growing firm again, lying flat against his belly, Carbine grinned like a Cheshire cat, and crawled up and over Throttle, straddling him, then lowering herself until she was squeezing her smooth, slick folds down onto the thick vein along the underside. Reaching up to pinch her nipples, moaning loudly as she began the steady climb to her own next orgasm, Carbine began to rub herself forward and back, being sure to pay special attention to Throttle's frenulum, even going so far as to bend forward on each backward slide, and flicker her tongue against that extra-sensitive pleasure spot. Soon, Throttle was breathing hard, his cheeks flushed, and so was Carbine, both lovers going wild at the touch of the other, at just being in each others' presence, sharing this moment of exquisite intimacy.

“I can't take it anymore!" Carbine cried out suddenly, lifting herself up just enough to reach down, holding Throttle's cock steady with her hands, soon assisted as Throttle gripped the base of his cock with one strong hand, holding it firm and steady, before the grey-furred mousegirl lowered herself down on that magnificent organ with a long, loud moan of ultimate pleasure. She was so turned on by that point that, when her butt touched his balls, Carbine's whole body started to convulse, and only Throttle's powerful, steadying hands on her hips kept Carbine from just collapsing right then and there. Even so, Throttle couldn't hold back his own wince and gritted teeth as Carbine's inner walls clenched and pulsed around his rigid penis, her sudden orgasm shuddering through his body almost as powerfully as her own.

Stroking his hands upward through Carbine's short, soft fur, Throttle lavished attention on her sides, her back, and especially on her pert, upthrust breasts, squeezing and palpating them with loving affection. As Carbine's climax gradually lessened in intensity – though it never really, truly came to a complete stop throughout their lovemaking – she began to ride Throttle, panting in pleasure-riven desperation, her hands pressing against his chest and belly to support herself, varying her position slightly with each shift. Her tail lashed out, and then entwined with Throttle's as she worked her taut, tight buns up and down, slapping her flesh against his with desperate eagerness.

Suddenly Throttle took a more active role, rising up, his hands moving to her hips, even as his mouth covered one of her breasts, biting down on a rigidly-perked nipple with his buck teeth, making Carbine squeak with pleasure and grab onto Throttle's shoulders for dear life. As he churned his cock inside of her, gyrating his hips just so, Carbine's voice raised in desperate, almost incoherent babbling, begging him for more, telling him it was too much, telling him how much she loved him, how she wasn't worthy of him, how she never wanted them to be apart again, promising him everything she could think of, including many, many carnal pleasures to come. Throttle's small, secret smile as he twisted his hips to ensure his penis rasped over Carbine's G-spot with each impact of her body coming down as his body came up made it clear that, though Carbine might not remember the many things she was promising him, Throttle definitely would, and at some future date, he would fully collect.

Right now, though…right now, Throttle could feel his own pleasures starting to peak again. After his first orgasm, he was still tingling with sensitivity, and there was no way he was going to last long. Not now, not with Carbine like she was, almost on the verge of her mind shutting down with pleasure, lavishing his face and neck and chest with needy, hungry kisses, wanting him so badly, he could feel the ache in her depths for him.

Crying out each others' names, Carbine's inner walls went through another massive convulsion, clenching desperately at the first splash of Throttle's cum against her cervix, contractions pulling his seed up, up toward an egg that neither of them could have known was ready and waiting for fertilization. Then they were kissing, and nothing else seemed to matter, both their universes shrinking down to include their lover, and nobody else.

Eventually, Carbine would make arrangements for Charley and Harley's ritual welcoming bath. But that would be several hours later. For right now, she and Throttle had much more catching up to do.