Sleeping in Light
The moment unfurled much as the day had. In a lemon-yellow light. Without struggle or fight. A natural, dreamy flow of ...
... consciousness. Of innocent understanding.
The two furs dwarfed by their elements. Keeping still on the ground (so as not to get lost in the firelight of time).
The bat ... on her belly in the grass, propped up on elbows. Wearing a white tank-top. And jean shorts. Eating vanilla ice cream (with chocolate chip shavings), and watching the mouse blow bubbles.
The swelter had come. Descended in the middle of this afternoon (putting it past 80 degrees). It was mid-spring.
Field, bare-chested, in his frayed jean shorts ... his pink, thin tail waving behind him (as if conducting the rays fo the sun), held a plastic bubble-wand in a paw (and a bottle of soapy liquid in the other). Ninety-nine sense, the stuff, at the Lebanon Wal-Mart.
And the pink-furred bat, from her horizontal, grassy position, slid her ice cream spoon (the silver of which glinted in the light) out of her muzzle. Said, "My turn yet?"
"You're having ice cream."
"Mm ... " She shifted. Sat up (with an exhale). "Here." She reached up, gently presenting him with her ice cream bowl (and spoon).
The honey-tan farm mouse exchanged the soap and wand for the bowl and spoon ... sniffy-sniffing all the while.
"There's not that much chocolate in it," she said, of the ice cream, as she rose to a stand. Stirring the liquid in the soap bottle with the (neon-green!) Bubble-wand. She wore a sun-drenched smile. "It'll melt ... by the time you get done sniffing at it." Her eyes darted to his. Met his.
"It's how mouses say hello," Field offered quietly. Warmly. Sinking to his knees in the grass. Sniffing. "We should move to the shade."
"And miss all this light?"
"My fur's starting to mat with sweat ... "
"Mm ... nothing wrong with a sweaty," she said (silkily), "mousey." A giggle. Eyes lapping him up.
The mouse felt his temperature rise ... from her action. His chest rose and fell. Rose and ... fell.
"Anyway," she continued. "If mouses say hello with their noses ... don't know why you'd need to say hello to the ice cream."
"Look, I have to sniff it ... or I can't eat it, okay?" he offered lamely.
A giggle. She knew that. She found it unbelievably cute, but ... he was so self-conscious that he did it. His constant sniff-twitch.
Sniff!
Twitch!
A giggle (on her part), as she pulled the bubble-wand out of the soap, and took in a breath, and ...
... blew bubbles. Buoyant, bouncy ... breezy!
Bubbles ...
... bobbing brightly.
Bursting!
Field, spooning ice cream into his muzzle ... watched her (from his sit). Still in the sun. Still bathed in light. Still sweating lightly.
The bat turned in a slow, slow circle, blowing bubbles all around, and ... eyes following them into the air.
Air. In her bones (where the marrow should be). Air ... her second skin. Her second coat of fur, rather. She stirred the bubble-wand in the bottle. It made a click-clack sound. Click-click ... stir-stir. Pulling the wand out. And sucking air, and ... pursing lips, and blowing ... whoosh of soft, hot air. Right from her lungs.
Field, after one or two spoonfuls ... had set the ice cream dish in the grass. Letting the stuff melt.
Adelaide blew another batch of bubbles, and ... looked over (and down) at him. The mouse. Her mate.
"What?" he whispered quietly.
"You don't want the ice cream?"
"No ... "
"Want the bubbles?" She presented the wand and bottle. "You had them first ... I didn't mean to take them," she apologized.
"Darling, it's ... fine," he whispered. He liked watching her. Didn't matter what she was doing. Dressing. Combing her fur. Blowing bubbles. Didn't matter. He liked watching her. How she moved. Her confidence, her flight-like grace. The color of her ... the pinks. The shades of pinks, and her ... velvety wings, and ... her toothy, cheeky smile. Such verve! Such ... life. She was so alive. More alive than anything or anyone he knew, and ... to watch her ... was to lose himself. Was to fade away. He was so in love ...
"We're still in the sun," she whispered back.
A quiet nod.
"You wanted to move to the shade ... "
"I did, but ... "
" ... what?"
A swallow. A tilt of his head. And he squinted (in such bright April light). Not meeting her eyes, but whispering to her, "Your fur ... shines in the light. Like its ... lapping and licking all over you. Like its jealous. It just ... to see you in the light," he whispered, trailing. Biting his lip. And then looking to her.
Her deep-pink eyes met his blue-greys. The warm color of her eyes colliding with the cooler color of his ... a storm front, then and there, seemingly ... invisibly ... forming. Brewing. A wanting. A yearning. A stirring in the air between them. Brought on by those eyes. Oh, eyes ...
Field swallowed, flushed. Fur matted with light sweat. A bit darker-colored in places (because of it). The lighter colors of his chest and belly slightly contrasting to the pure honey-tan of the rest of him. His dishy ears swivelled. Like little sensory satellites. Like sun-shades. Like ... so many things. His nose sniffed and twitched, and ... oh, such motion! Such constant, subtle motion. His energy. Boundless. His feeling. Limitless. The bat's mind, telepathic, probing ... slid around his own (like a cool sheet).
Field's eyes fluttered. And went to a close.
"Got a lot of clutter in there," she said (of his mind).
"I do not," he defended, frowning a bit. Eyes opening. Pleading with her. "I do not ... "
A bright giggle. And she sank to her own knees, and ... put the bubble bottle (and wand) aside. And crawled up to him ... on all fours. "I know that," she whispered. "I'm teasing." She smiled. Showing her teeth. Her fangs.
"Well ... "
"Field," she huffed.
"Yeah?" The mouse was sitting on his rump now, legs bent at the knees ... before him.
"I don't know," she confessed. "Just felt like ... breathing your name." Pause. "You know?" She put her nose on his chest. Breathed of his fur. And ... nosed him onto his back. Proceeding to crawl over the top of him. "You know?"
"I don't know," was his weak-willed whisper. He couldn't resist her ... shouldn't. Didn't want to.
The bat's body seemed to thrum with each breath.
Field was sure he could hear her heartbeat. He was sure he could ...
"Oh," she breathed. Him on his back. Her on paws and knees above him. Muzzle hovering above his. "What am I going to do with you?"
Field smiled shyly. Ears turning rosy-pink.
"We should get in the shade," she whispered to him. "You didn't put sun lotion on your ears."
"We've only been out here twenty minutes."
"I don't want them to burn. I don't want you ... " Her nose touched his. "I don't want any kind of pain to come to you."
"But I can't move," he whispered.
"No?" she whispered back. Nose flaring.
His nose twitched, twitched ... sniffed ... what was this batty scent? What was this pink-hued thing? What was she doing? His nose seemed to ask such questions. To which Field's mind would reply ... she's a bat. She's my mate.
But what is she doing, his nose seemed to ask his mind ... to which his mind would reply ... she is trying to relax us.
Field's heart giggled at his mind and nose, saying ... no, no ... she's trying to melt us!
Adelaide, eyes darting very slightly ... her smile widened. "Am I?"
"Mm?"
"Trying to melt you?" she said, grinning. Thinking it was cute that the mouse was debating with himself ... about her. Every facet of his mind was fixated on her. And it gave her a shiver. A flush. That kind of love. That kind of ... need. That kind of ... feeling. It humbled her, and her grin melted to a soft smile, and she closed her eyes. Tilted her head. Muzzle-to-muzzle.
"What are ... " But he needn't ask what she was doing. He already knew. Asking ... was simply an impulse. Simply a mousey ...
... reaction. Drawing, from him, a reaction. As her lips met his. Soft, fleshy lips. Soft, soft sucking ... and even softer parting. And the softest, sweetest stare ...
"Adelaide ... "
"Yeah, baby ... " She moved back to a sit. A straddle of his waist. Leaning down, paws caressing his shoulders. "Mm?"
"I ... I love you," he said. So shyly. The words, they were precious. He spoke them with such delicacy. Such care.
Her eyes blinked. She closed them (to hide that they were watering ... but the mouse, his mind able enough to sense her emotions ... he knew). Her eyes opened.
"I love you," he repeated. For it beared repeating. It needed repeating. "I love ... you," he panted. As she moved down for another kiss. As she stole another breath.
As she broke the kiss to pull back again. As she quietly licked her lips. "I love you, too," was her response ... her paw fishing for his. Fingers meshing with his. Squeeze ...
... and a squeeze back.
Bat and mouse in the yard, in the sun, in the grass ... next to a melted bowl of chocolate chip ice cream. Next to a bottle of bubbles. And a (neon-green!) bubble-wand. Under the azure sky, and ... in a land of desolate power lines. Of blooming, greening fields. The alfalfas, and the grasses. And the flowers (wild and not). Hard to believe that, just a day or so ago ... there had been rain. Been dark clouds. Been hale. And, now, here and now ... sunny. Bright.
So many springs, so many summers (and autumns and winters) ... so many of solitude (had the mouse endured!). Before this.
Before her.
Lonely no more.
Oh, lonely no more ...
Their love could be a country-western song!
But, then ... ANYTHING could be a country-western song ... the mouse, thinking this, giggled.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"Nothin' ... "
She probed at his mind. "Mm ... " A smile. "You think our love is worthy of song?" Eyes, again (as they so often did) ... resting at a meeting place. Windows to souls.
"Yes," was his earnest whisper. And he could write it. He would write it ... but the song was always changing, was always getting better. The constant revisions, the constant lilting melodies ... would it not be an impossible task? Would it not take a lifetime? Or longer?
The bat at her straddle ... eyed him.
"What?" he asked, a bit self-conscious. Suddenly.
"Thinking," she whispered.
"Why?"
An airy little shrug. "I don't know ... " An exhale. "But I ... I'm all fuzzy. I can't think," she confessed. "You're ... doing such things to me." She leaned down.
The mouse's heart quickened.
"You look past all of my flaws," she told him. "No one's ever ... done that. They expect me to be perfect. I'm a bat. I have wings. I breathe," she said, muzzle hovering above his, "of rarified air. I'm the strong one," she whispered. "I'm not allowed to crack ... "
The mouse wasn't sure what to say. He just ... listened. Swivel-eared, he listened.
"In rooms, I'm the one ... that draws attention. You're the one that goes unnoticed in a quiet corner. I'm the one who can talk and laugh with such ease. You're the one who shyly stutters when greeted by a stranger."
"Adelaide, what ... "
"I'm just ... " She leaned back up. Paws on his chest. Feeling his rising, falling breath. Fingers running lightly over his pink, mousey nipples ... " ... I'm just ... " She trailed. Took a breath. "Other furs, they pressure me. They have expectations ... you know? I'm ... but you just ... you're so selfless," she said.
"I'm ... "
"Field, you just ... I don't know how I won your devotion." She stroked his belly. Biting her lip a bit.
"You never needed to win it. You only had to ... ask," Field whispered. And she had. When she'd approached him ... nearly a year ago. Had persisted in getting him to have a meal with her. So persistent. She'd seen something in his eyes. In his motions. In the way he moved. In ... she had seen things. A spirituality. A gentility. Something so refreshing, so different, so unassuming ... and the need to taste of that ... the need to know more of it ...
Her eyes watered again (in their bright, shiny way).
"I've more flaws than you," Field whispered. "I've ... "
"Hey," was her coo.
"I've more reason to be passed over ... than you."
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. Quietly. "No ... "
The mouse swallowed. Eyes closing. "Adelaide ... "
She rubbed at his belly. Up to his chest ... to his shoulders. Paws running through soft, short ... mousey fur ... soft, honey-tan fur. Fingers running through it. To bury her nose in that. To breathe of that downy, mousey scent. Field, to her, smelled like winter mornings ... curled up beneath sheets. Smelled like stepping out of the shower. Smelled like cinnamon toast for breakfast. Smelled like all sorts of quiet, humble moments. Everyday moments. Things one took for granted ...
"I'm the one who should be thanking you," Field continued. At a wispy whisper. "I was battered and broken. I was ... but you scooped me into your wings. I have so many flaws," he confessed. "I have so many ... pains. So many traumas. So many ... " A trail. And a swallow. "Your forgiveness, and your ... your acceptance ... "
" ... taxes me not," she finished for him. "You are not," she assured, "a burden. You are a light. You are brighter," she assured, "than this very sun under which we melt."
"I'm not," he insisted. Oh, his wobbly confidence.
"You are." Oh, she, his medicine. His stability.
Neither fur ... self-standing. Both dependent. Both reliant.
Both.
Love ... took both. Sacrifices from both. Gave joy ... to both. Neither one of them had the upper paw. And neither one of them had to understand how this had started, and why it was working ... simply seeing themselves on the other side of the loneliness and doubt. And fear. Seeing themselves on the other side of all of that. Seeing their own smiles in the mirror.
It was enough. It was more than enough. Enough, and yet ...
... she couldn't get enough of him. More, more ...
... wanting more!
Another kiss. A soft, sweet, glancing kiss. To his cheek. Moving to his lips.
And his arms clutching at her tank-top, nose flaring. Whiskers ... oh, twitching!
Both of them ignoring the rational signs. Ignoring the logic. Ignoring the science. Ignoring the signs of: "Warning! Love ahead ... perilous terrain!"
All the cynicism, all the bitterness ... all the faithless furor of the world, the society in which they lived ... all of it fell to the back-burner. Fell off the stove. All of it crumbled in the face of this evidence: that love was solid land.
And it would not give way.
A kiss ... another kiss. To the cheek. To the lips.
Paws on hips.
The booming thunders of their pasts ...
... unheard. Unheard above their breaths. Their beating hearts.
Her pink paws fumbling at the button to his shorts. Tugging down the zipper ...
Field arched, raising his hips and rump slightly off the ground. Allowing her to slide the shorts off. White briefs, too ... getting them to his knees.
A tiny squeak. "My tail ... "
A huffing smile. Adelaide freeing his silky, twining tail ... from the tangle. Fishing it out of the clothing. Setting it (gently) aside. And pulling off all his attire ... and giving a few rubs of his rump-cheeks.
His own paws tugged at her tank-top. Tug, tug ...
... and she obliged. With a soft, vulnerable smile, and pulled the shirt up, raising arms. Pulling it off. Letting it fall aside. Unbuckling her bra ... tossing it aside, too. To the grass.
A chitter-squeak ... as he pulled at her shorts.
"Mm ... " A giggle. As she rose from her straddle. Resting on her haunches, and then raising a bit. Unbuttoning, unzipping ... pulling down ... standing to step out of the clothing. One foot-paw left inside. And kicking the clothing away. And lowering back down to her haunches. Extending a paw.
Field shyly took it.
And she pulled him up.
"Where ... "
" ... the shade," she whispered. "We're going to the shade."
Thirty seconds later, they were on the ground again. In the grass (again). Beneath the shade of a sycamore tree. The chalky bark and the sturdy, speckled limbs ... and the huge, rustling leaves. And them beneath it all. In the cool dimness of the mid-spring shade.
"Mm ... I could never," Field whispered, "live in the city ... "
"No breeze, no trees ... no fields, no birds," she whispered. A toothy grin. "And no making love outside."
"Yeah ... " A shy, airy giggle. Eyes darting. "Mm ... " This was not the first time they'd done this out here, in the open. Wouldn't be the last. The fields, the pastures, they went for miles, and the trees stood guard (hiding them from any small planes that might be motoring above them). The gravel road on which they lived ... was sparse of cars.
Adelaide, smiling, closing her eyes, slipped to Field's side. Shifting so that her back was to his chest.
He put an arm round her belly. Hugging her back against him. Snug ... to him.
Neither could stand any more foreplay (be it verbal or done with the eyes, or ... physical teasing). Neither could wait ... so hot were they. So baited for breath. Such ...
... cooperative captives of this Hoosier noon.
Such lovers of nature.
So safely able, here, now, with each other ... so safely able to give themselves to each other. There was no wondering ... of instinct begging to hurt. There was no question ...
... of safety.
Warmth.
This was it. This is what they'd been waiting for.
Love.
And it would not turn on them. Would not fail. Would not hurt.
Oh, love ...
... slipping into her. As his paw supported her thigh, helping to keep her right leg (the one exposed to the sky) lifted.
Adelaide's eyes, closed, darted beneath the lids. And her breath held.
Field exhaled as he moved his hips. As he made his motions. As his mouse-hood, pink, ready ... buried, bit by bit, up and into her. Into her passage.
The bat's paw fumbled for the mouse's. Squeezed.
A squeeze back ...
... and a little huff. A soft huff. From her.
As the mouse pumped (with such reverence) slowly in and out of her. The motion wet, slick ... easy. Natural.
The pleasure warming her. Warming her further (more so than the air). Matting her fur (and his) with sweat. Both of them matted, panting ...
... both of them fur-and-blood creatures. Full of want. Full of need.
Expressing.
Exhaling.
Empathic ...
... to the point of unity. This was a union. Spiritual. Born of faith and prayer and time and ... patience.
Love, like life ... was so much bigger then they were ... loomed so much larger.
Was so much more than simple sorrow and joy.
A squeaky sigh ...
A chittering huff ...
In these unguarded minutes, oblivious to the world. To all activity and prose. Simply drawn to each other.
A slight, slick sound ... as the mouse drew back. Pushed in. Drew back ...
... pushed in.
A sigh! (From her.)
A pant! (From him.)
And it was Adelaide who wriggled away ... who shifted her position (and, in doing so, his position, too).
Field, a bit disconcerted, found himself being rolled onto his back. His tail pinned beneath him, writing in the green grass (like a pink, harmless snake). He blinked up at her ... questioning. Innocent.
"My ... my bite," she huffed. Showing her fangs. "Remember?"
"Mm ... course ... " A deep flush beneath his cheeks. So hot!
The bat, at a straddle of him ... lowered down. And sighed. As she took control of the tempo. Her fangs already dripping drops of her mating milk (brought on by the onset of intercourse). Her biting instinct was flaring, and ... would have to be sated. If the biting instinct was triggered and a bat did not bite ... pounding headaches and nausea resulted. Lasting for several hours ... nature's way of ensuring that the bite took place.
The mouse, helpless ... ridden ... huffed and squeaked. And clutched weakly at her bare, furry sides. Warm, warm sides. Warmer fur. Oh, the warmth ...
... of her!
The bat rose ... and fell. Bounced with a light, gentle motion. Never growing manic. Rather, savoring. Settling to where the mouse had her at a hilt. Her passage wet, warm, wrapped around his sensitive flesh.
Sparks of sensation.
Sparks of feeling.
Field, briefly, in his pleasured haze ... thought of his tail lit like a 4th of July sparkler. Sparking day and night. Lit by the fire in Adelaide's breath.
Adelaide, seeing the image in his head, laughed aloud ... so brightly. Her laugh was so comforting. It rang of such joy. And she nodded, nodded weakly, whispering, "That ... that would be something to see. Mm ... " A giggle. "Mm ... "
Field squeaked ... as she wriggled her body a bit. As she poked at his nipples. And he reached back to retaliate.
Her belly arched. As his thumbs wagged back and forth over her own nipples. As his paws cupped and gently grabbed at her breasts.
But she thwarted any further breast-play (promising, in a whisper, he would get plenty of it ... when nightfall came) ... and leaned forward, over him. Began lapping, licking at his neck. Wetting and matting a spot on the right side of his neck.
Field closed his eyes. His heart hammered. His nerves tingled. His mouse-hood still firm, still embedded in her.
She still straddling, but leaning forward, almost laying on top of him now. Her biting instinct producing a numbing agent in her saliva. It took a few minutes to lick and work enough saliva onto his fur ... to numb the side of his neck. Numbing took a few minutes of tongue-time. So, a simple kiss or two ... wouldn't numb his lips or his tongue. Not unless he continually sucked his muzzle for two whole minutes ...
Field breathed, breathed ... with growing erraticness.
Until the numbing was done. Until she opened her muzzle, her fangs an off-white in this shade. Dripping drops of milky fluid. Until she pressed the points of them to his fur. Adjusting her jaw. And ...
... sinking them in. Sink, sink ... bite!
The effect was immediate.
The mating milk entered the mouse's bloodstream, carried through him ... tingling his body with a brief, electrical sensation. One that was purely pleasurable. He moaned.
Adelaide, teeth embedded in his muscle, huffed ... unable to verbally speak once a bite had taken place (being that she couldn't move her muzzle from its position).
Their minds started to flow together. Their physical sensations ... became to join.
They were merging.
They were one.
Memories, flashes of them ... always hit ...
... images of the mouse plunging into the creek. Trying to catch a turtle. He hadn't caught a turtle in quite a while. He would lose his edge ... if he didn't regularly catch them. Plunging into cool creek water, worrying of leeches ... were there leeches? Hesitating before grabbing the shell of the reptile. Before wrestling it to dry land. To the grass and cattails, only to discover ...
... it was a snapping turtle! Snappy-snap! Snap!
Withdrawn paw! Barely!
The turtle glaring.
Field giggling with glee ... had he known it was a snapping turtle, he wouldn't have picked it up. A good thing he hadn't known.
Images of her ...
... at a rural airport. Sitting at wooden picnic table. Watching the small planes. Going up to the parked planes, running the pads of her paws on the undersides of their wings. Vowing that she would learn to fly them. She would learn to fly one, and ... take Field into the sky. For why should her mate be in love with her, a winged thing, and be afraid of flying? She would loosen his fears ... all of them. She would get rid of them all.
They would fly.
Memories ... of Field eating asparagus for the first time. It was chewier than he thought it would be. And he had it again the next day. Broccoli, asparagus, peas ... he was loving green vegetables. Who would've thought? Such rabbit-like behavior from a grain-nibbling rodent!
Memories ... of Adelaide. Picking purple hyacinths on a hill.
Field sobbing, crying in the dark.
Adelaide sick with a fever.
Field passed out on the kitchen floor. From dehydration.
Memories of loneliness. Of despair.
Doubt.
And renewal.
Stronger faith. Memories of ...
... Easter. Of the cross. Of the life and death and resurrection. Of eternity. Faith honed, renewed (like a phoenix) with every attack. Every verbal assault.
Doubts ... and certainties.
Perspective.
Faith.
Celebration.
Life.
Dusty, gravel roads. Barns that were falling to ashes. The sadness invoked from such rural repose.
The crass developments and generic buildings ... built where farmland was. How the land would never return to what it was.
Images of Field ... at an ice cream shop in Burlington. Blueberry ice cream. At the Milky Way in Lebanon. Tangerine-vanilla twist. The mouse collecting ice cream dishes from all the ice cream shops in Indiana. A dozen down. Oh, hundreds to go!
Images of Adelaide ... turning slowly in front of a mirror. In a dress. Stomach fluttering with a palpable nervousness.
Field running a red light. Two feet from being dead.
Adelaide sobbing on a swing in the rain. Such loss. Such grief. Oh, dear God, when would it stop ...
A night of twisters.
Ice freezing on the power lines. Toppling them over.
A knowledge of life and death. Of seasons. Of cycles.
Innocence lost. And regained.
Redemption.
Failing every math class at school. The loss of confidence. The spiral into depression ... the mouse's blank, sleepless nights. The salt in his wounds.
The pressure on the bat. With such poise, such strength ... coming such expectations. Her ease, her confidence ... was expected. Furs anticipated nothing less. Finding, in Field, a fur ... who didn't demand incessant perfection. Who wanted HER. And not the things she made of.
And the mouse ...
... the images, swirling. The memories. Unfurling.
Followed by a clear, bell-like pleasure ... that melted, second by second, through their bodies. Displacing the images and ... rendering everything into a pleasured, dream-like haze. So good ... oh ...
Adelaide weakly rising, falling ... as best she could (having to keep her fangs in place).
Field bucking up and into her (weakly).
Paws all over. Paws clutching. Paws roving. Through fur and over limbs. Touching tails and wings and ...
... his whiskers twitching. Nose ... sniffing! Ears burning with blood and heat.
Her breasts heaving.
A duet.
Both of them writing, moving, complimenting each other ... the touches, the motions. Further, further ... carrying them further.
And closer.
Closer.
The pleasure tingling ... creepy-crawling through the bases of their bodies. Creepy-creepy-crawl ... mm ... mmm ...
Huff, huff ...
... squeak! Squeak!
"Mm ... mmm ... "
"Uh ... oh," went the mouse's moan. "Uh ... " Eyes watered to a forced shut. A paw between their bodies. Reaching down, fishing ... pushing her sensitive nub like a button. Push, push ... rub-rub! "Ah ... ah! Adelaide ... " He ran his paws all over her rump. Grabbing at her rump-cheeks.
"Mm ... hmm, hmm ... " The bat's nostrils flaring! A deep whiff of sweaty, earthy mouse.
Field shivering, gasping ... the finger that was working on her nub ... he felt it. As she felt it, he felt it. The worming pleasure that spiraled from the act. He felt her muscular passage filled. Felt it ... wet, wanting.
She felt the mouse's breathlessness. Felt how his body was a twitching ball of frantic fur. Felt how he endured the pleasure of his stiff flesh ...
Feeling each other's pleasure (on top of their own).
The merging of memories, feelings, physical sensations ... overwhelming. Flooring them. Too, too ... much ... much ... mm ... mmm ...
... and ...
... complete! Peak!
Adelaide came first. Usually the second to come ... she came first. With a stretch of her legs, with a foot-paw, with toes curling. Inadvertently, her toes hitting the stem of a white dandelion. Sending the seeds scattering to the warm, lazy air. Sending them clinging to the fur of her foot-paw and ankles. The bat ... writhing, and going still. "Mm ... uh, uh ... uh ... " Femininity wracked in spasms. Oh, spasms! Sending waves, waves of pleasure ... all through her body. The satisfaction. The ... oh ... good ... so good. The only recourse was to echo-burst. Right against the mouse's neck. The echo-bursts vibrating lightly in his ears. Fluid dripping from between her legs ... in dewy drops that ran down the mouse's furry, tightened sac ... and fell sweetly to the grass-blades. "Oh, Field ... "
The brunt of her orgasm ... floored the mouse. A shiver tore through his spine, to his tail-tip. Tail jerking like a downed electrical wire ... before going suddenly rigid. The shiver so hot. So, so hot ... like a fuse had been lit. He couldn't move his hips. Could make no further motion ... simply, he felt the twitch, twitch ... the baited breath. Gasp, gasp ... and fire! Fire! Spurt, spurt ... little, desperate spurts of mouse seed. Into her body. Her heated warmth. Sowing. Imprinting his soul on hers. Giving himself to her. The pleasure that occurred! He squeaked weakly, giving a wispy, mousey moan ... chittering ... huffing! Oh, huffing! "Uh ... um ... mmm ... " Deep breath! "Oh, oh ... "
His helpless reaction disturbing the hummingbird that had been perched on the wire of the electric fence several yards off. It launched, glowing, swooping in a buzzing blur over their furry, writhing bodies ... landing in the tree-limbs above them (to jealously watch).
Adelaide feeling the punch-like effect of the mouse's release. The twitching pleasure that ... enveloped him. It enveloped her ...
"Uhnn ... oohhh ... "
"Mm, mm ... mmf ... "
And, together, they rode it ...
... and saw it through.
And remained quiet. Remained joined.
Until she withdrew from his neck.
And he, in turn, pulled out from between her legs.
Until, panting, sweaty ... in the shade ... they laid.
Eyes closed and noses on each other's cheeks.
Breathing.
Breathing ...
... of the glow that now consumed them. That was now their blanket.
There were no words.
Only a desire to sleep with each other. Then and there. To rest. To recover. To be in the shade, and yet ... to be in light. The light coming from their hearts. The light coming from their faith (and their Creator, who kept them safe).
Light.
So, wordless, they slept in the (simultaneous) shade and light.
Oh, they knew they would be alright.