Healing With Love
Her eyes were closed.
His with hooded lids ... nose in the snowy-white fluff of her bobtail (which gave off strongly of her rabbit scent).
Aria on her side, somewhat. And Ross ...
... his body now sliding. Sliding up hers. Paws through the soft, soft fur of her strong rabbit legs (for rabbits were born runners and hoppers). To her hips. To her belly ... rolling her onto her back, gently, and laying, horizontally, on top of her.
Their noses now touched.
"Aria," the vole whispered.
Her icy-blue eyes, from this close, met his. "Yes?"
"I love you ... " Still whispering. Still in the sheets. Another restless night on Solstice, waiting ... to get where they were going. Waiting for something to happen. Feeling that something would. And soon. Be grateful for this respite ...
"As do I," was her quiet, proper whisper (in response), "love you. My mate." She nuzzled his nose. Softly, softly. Nose-nuzzling.
His whiskers twitching.
Her whiskers unmoving.
"I must be ... be the luckiest fur," he said proudly, eyes shining, "in ... in ... well, anywhere," he finally said. Shyly. "I ... to get to be with you. To have," he whispered, "you." A pause. And he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Back before," he said, "you know, I ... back when I was ... " He didn't say the word 'human' ... he ... couldn't bring himself, hardly, to say it ... it was too painful. " ... back then, I was ... lonely," he whispered. "Very lonely." A pause. "I didn't have anyone. I ... I prayed about it," he admitted, "every day. And ... you know, I guess love works in mysterious ways, you know? I guess that's a cliche ... " He trailed. Breathing, breathing ... on top of her. "But when I asked God to lead me to a mate someday ... I had NO idea it would be ... like this. Like you. Like ... it still feels like a dream." He fell quiet. Admitting, "I think you saved me ... Aria ... "
"I do not," she began, whispering, but ...
... he explained, "When I got turned into a fur ... it hurt. Physically. Mentally. I was so scared, and had been through so much pain. I'd ... lost my other life. And was ... if you hadn't been so kind to me. If you hadn't taken me under your paw. If ... you hadn't protected me like you did," he told her, "I probably would've caved in on myself." A pause. A flush. "I ... I just ... you gave me the confidence and the joy to keep going. I don't think I've told you that yet, but ... it IS true, Aria. I mean it."
The snow rabbit remained quiet. Long, slender ears ... relaxed. On a pillow. Listening to every heartfelt word. Listening ... and feeling a flush. Despite herself, she flushed beneath her fur. And nodded weakly. "I am ... only glad," was her eventual response, "to assist you."
"I love you," Ross said again (for the second time in the past five minutes). He was so wide-eyed. Used to be human. Now a fur. Was mated to a snow rabbit. In his eyes, anything could happen! The universe was so full of mystery and wonder, and ... God had a plan for him. And her. For all of them. It was like life was a story. Being written by the day. And they were characters, and ... it all felt so ... so epic. So poetic. So ... " ... lovely. You're so lovely," he whispered, kissing her neck. A very, very soft kiss. A little smack-smack sound. And ... another. Mouthing the white fur on her neck. Wetting it at a bit. Matting it, and then ... pulling back. To meet her eyes again.
She met his gaze. Held it. It hadn't been an easy transition for him. The adjustment. From learning how to live in a new body, and ... how to deal with furry 'urges,' and ... the predator/prey tension, and ... this constant, lurking threat from his OLD species, and ... he'd done well. She admired him. Lesser souls would've whined. Would've despaired. But ... he was a meadow mouse. And was gentle, and ... faced it with faith. Did he sometimes panic? Did he sometimes cry ... well, yes. He was needy.
He NEEDED her.
He was ... special. Quiet, low-key, and maybe other furs found him 'boring,' but ... like this, in private, in the quiet ... when he opened his heart and soul ... he was the most gentle, caring, emotional creature. He was so tender.
And having a job now, on the ship ... as a cook in the mess hall ... well, it gave him an extra spring in his step. He was starting to mingle with the crew better. Had been given the field rank of ensign. Was ... being accepted.
There were still those on Solstice who were suspicious of him. Very ... suspicious. But he gave off no threatening air, and ... if you really got to know him ...
Aria, from this close, breathed of his mousey scent. And tilted her head and closed her eyes. To allow him to peck her neck with ... barrages of kisses. Mm ... soft ... mmm ...
The meadow mouse wriggled a tiny bit, gently, sliding down ... to play with her breasts. To lick at her nipples ... before descending his muzzle. Suck, suck ... stop. Suck ...
The snow rabbit sighed. The pleasure ... was so special to her. In so many ways. And ...
... Ross, certainly, was the most-romantic yiffer she'd ever been with ... and the only of her myriad partners ... that she'd ever taken as a true mate. Ever devoted to. The only one she'd ever loved.
Snow rabbits found it hard to express emotions. They were so ... conditioned by the ice. So frozen. Out of necessity. For their own protection (for their harsh environment ... bred harsh emotions; their release would ... destabilize their minds). And ... it just WAS. But ... they needed to breed. Just like every other furry species.
They took partners. Entered into 'breeding groups.' Seven to ten rabbits per group. You bred freely within that group. Every member was tested ... before being let in. To make sure they were safe. But, once the group was constructed, you ... bred with whom you pleased. When you pleased.
But snow rabbits were ... in the end, rabbits. Even if they were SNOW rabbits. Still rabbits. And rabbits had stronger yiff drives than most other species ... and ... the temptation to breed outside your given group ... was fierce.
Twenty-three.
Twenty-three different males ... twenty-three different male-hoods (to put it less callously) ... had sowed her. Had gifted seeds of life and pure pleasure into her body. None ever taking root. Nineteen snow rabbits, two domestic (or regular) rabbits, a kangaroo rat ... and an Arctic fox. The last one ... forcibly. He'd had a knot. The ... it had been a very, very painful experience. A trauma. The worst memory of her twenty-three year life.
But necessary. She'd been doing her duty ... but ...
... twenty-three distinct imprints on her soul (and many of them ... imprinted more than once) ...
... that were permanently there. They couldn't be removed. She'd imprinted souls with them, and ...
... Ross was twenty-four.
And, hopefully, the last. The one and only ... for the rest of her life.
There was no limit to the amount of imprints a furry heart could receive, of course. But, generally, prey believed ... that even SO ... the larger the number of partners ... the weaker the heart became. For its energy and spirit was ... divided between them. The heart's structural integrity was weakend.
But if you found one true love ... and stayed with them ...
... your heart's energy went into ONE source: that of your mate. No memories of loves lost, and no ... memories of callous giving ... no regrets.
And Aria, herself ... had found that ONE. And ... had asked, from her Savior, forgiveness. Had repented. She knew she was absolved.
She was not the same.
She was better. And she planned on staying that way. Staying pure.
A sigh from her. She'd told Ross all of this ... had felt it necessary to tell him. Had been anxious as to his reaction ... had explained to him that snow rabbits were often viewed as 'predator-like prey' ... and that, because of their emotional barriers, they ... didn't devote themselves into loving mate-ships. But, rather, partnered into larger breeding groups ... she'd done her best to explain her culture. To help him to understand. Had assured him she was physically clean. And emotionally re-devoted to the Christian prey faith ...
"I left my home," she'd whispered to him. Honestly. Eyes darting. "I left my species. I left my home. I came ... here. To Solstice. I ... was assigned here. Advance chose me. He wanted me as a first officer ... because we both came from hostile environments. Him the desert. Me the tundra. I was wanted. At home? No one wanted me.
"So, I left the snow rabbit militia and joined the furry fleet." A breath. "I came to believe that ... my species, in demeanor, in ... action," she'd whispered, "was becoming more predatory. When the war was over, I discovered the snow rabbits had sacrificed so much of what made them prey ... in order to gain that victory. They had become so much like predators themselves. They had lost faith."
Ross had listened. Whiskers twitching. Swallowing. He nodded quietly, lightly.
"I no longer adhere to the yiffy practices of my species. I ... am still emotionally frozen. I am of the ice. I cannot help that. But ... in the months since I left home, I have not yiffed once. Not until you. I've pawed. Used holograms. But I've been waiting for a mate," she'd told him. "So I can devote to him ... so I can LOVE," she said, "him, and ... restore my heart to a full and healthy state.." She'd weakly swallowed. "You," she whispered, "are that mate. That love. And ... I tell you this, about my past, because ... you deserve to know. I ask that ... you try and understand."
Ross had swallowed again, whiskers twitching, eyes darting a bit. Before looking to her. "I'm ... it's a bit unsettling. To be honest. I mean ... twenty-three guys? How can I live up to that?" He imagined each cock ... sowing in her pussy, and ... her getting pleasure from it. It ... almost hurt (to think about it). Even if she'd done that in the past ... it's ... was hard to explain. Just don't think about it ... best not to ... it's in the past ...
"You do not need to ... "
"I just need you to tell me that I'm different ... that, to you, I'm different. I'm not just a breeding partner. Another body. I'm ... a MATE," he whispered desperately.
"You are. I've ... said as much, Ross. I ... love you," she confessed. "I do love you. I ... love you," she said again. Looking to him with her cool eyes. "I latched to you because I needed you. You needed me ... both of us," she confessed, "are ... we need each other to heal from our pasts. Our wounds. Do you not ... agree?" She'd head-tilted, waiting with baited breath.
"Yes," he'd whispered.
"I am stating here and now ... that, as your mate, I am devoted to you. Only you. I hope you will trust me ... "
"I do trust you," had been his reply. Eager. Needy. "I do ... " And he'd ... paused, and ... proceeded to tell her about his OWN history ... in these matters. It was only fair. She'd told him hers, and ... he'd confessed she'd been his first yiff. Or, at least, PROPER yiff ... " ... I ... I sucked, uh ... cock ... a few times." A pause. "More like twenty. I don't know. I didn't keep count ... " He flushed. "Most of it was with the same guy ... I ... it was a few years ago, when I was younger. When I was ... alone and confused." He was too embarrassed to meet her eyes. "I'm not like that anymore, Aria. You have to believe me ... I love femmes more than anything! I was just ... curious." His ears burned.
"It is alright," she'd assured. Funny ... in a way ... she could SEE him sucking a male. Could see it. Hadn't thought about it before, but now that he'd admitted it ... it wasn't hard to envision. And ... why did that make her so nervous? Even as she insisted it was fine ... why did that unsettle her? It ... he's over it ... he said so. Don't hold it against him ...
"When ... when I paw with Herkimer and the Captain and ... and then, I just ... paw and kiss, and ... I don't do that. I don't do that," he insisted. "I know there's a line. I ... I don't do it."
"I believe you," the snow rabbit insisted. "Ross, I trust you ... "
He'd nodded, blushing beneath his fur.
They'd both aired their sexual, romantic histories: him, the shy, effeminate, relatively-inexperienced male ... who'd lost his proper virginity to Aria. And Aria herself: the very experienced femme, who'd grown up in an emotionless, promiscuous culture.
He'd long-since pushed thoughts of males out of his mind ...
... and she'd long-since abandoned her species' emotion-free breeding habits.
They'd both changed. WERE changing ...
... so that, together, they could make a new, fresh love. Together, they could prosper.
Together, they could ...
... heal.
Those confessions had come weeks ago. Weeks ago. Before watching blinker-bugs together. Before the bubble baths. Before the sweet and succulent kissing lessons.
Before. And now?
Now, since then, since their mate-ship had started ...
... Ross was growing nicely into his new, furry pelt. Was becoming a true fur. Helped ... by her.
And she? She was losing a bit of her icy edge. Was starting to melt ... just a bit. She would never be capable of a full thaw. It simply wasn't possible. The genetic make-up of her species forbade it. Again, for her own protection. But ... she'd taken him as a mate. She LOVED him. She was very protective of him. It was MORE than instinct ... it was FEELING.
Time ... and change ...
... and here they were today. Now. In their bed. In the middle of the night.
But before this moment ... before reaching such an ease ...
... it had taken, at first, practice (lots of practice) to hone Ross's yiff skills ... practice which NEITHER of them minded, but ... which had been very frustrating for the vole. Who'd prematurely ejaculate ... constantly. A minute after engaging intercourse, he'd lose it. And Aria nowhere near her own orgasm ...
Practice.
After one time, he'd ... started crying. Ashamed. And ... then, one time, he'd felt self-conscious. Being that furry friends often pawed together, he'd seen ... other males' penises. Other crew-furs (like Welly and Handel and Lipton, for instance, were all ... over 6.5 inches). Most of them were bigger than him. Mice typically averaged five inches ... WHEN erect. When not erect ... smaller, obviously. He'd become so self-conscious about his size, feeling it was a matter of male, furry pride ... and that, somehow, he didn't measure up ... convinced he wasn't able to give Aria enough pleasure. Convinced he was deficient.
Practice.
Another time, he'd gotten so eager with her clitoris ... during oral ... as to make the sensitivity turn from pleasure to ... something more intolerable. Causing her to yip in almost-pain. He'd incessantly apologized afterwards.
Practice.
A week after his arrival ... practice, practice, and ... she'd coached him on pacing, positioning, technique, style ... had urged him, coaxed him, soothed him. He was fragile. Emotionally fragile. He, unlike her, couldn't suppress his emotions. He felt them ... the FULL brunt of them. And ... his transformation, and ... being a mouse ... the instincts. The anxiety. She understood ...
... a less patient femme would've snapped at him. Would've ridiculed him for not being 'masculine' enough. Not being male enough. But, no, she understood ...
... and she nurtured him. She helped him. She wanted him to be okay.
And he'd soon gotten the hang of it.
Two weeks by.
Soon, the embarrassment and ... insecurity ... all of it melted away. And, now, today, weeks after they'd first coupled in the simulation room, he was a regular, romantic ... awesome yiffer. The best she'd ever had. And maybe that WAS because she'd helped him get to this point. Maybe that's why it was so satisfying. The fruits of ... their mutual 'labor.' Their mutual vulnerability and intimacy.
Their mutual love.
"Darling," Ross breathed, back in the present. The here-and-now. Bursting all the thought bubbles floating between them.
"Mm?"
His muzzle was off her nipple. He was panting lightly. "I love you." That was, what, the THIRD time he'd said that ... in the past ten minutes?
Her eyes opened. Her icy-blue eyes. And she eye-smiled (like she could do). "I love you, too," she responded easily. For she did. It was SO apparent.
And SO right.
And getting better by the hour. Surely, this was a love that would last forever. Surely ... mm ... mmm ...
He was working on her other nipple now.
She closed her eyes and just ... focused on the feeling. His lips. His wet, whirling tongue. And the heat of his muzzle. And the weight of his slender, trim, mousey body ... on top of her thick, furry pelt. Her snowy self.
The vole took his time. He knew, by now, what she liked. What felt good to hear, and ... he took his slow, sweet time. Just suckling. No hurry. No hurry ... right? No ... no ... mm ... mmm ...
No talk of predators ... of the tension you could cut with a knife. No talk of predator/prey things ...
... and no talk of humans. No talk of uncertain futures.
No talk ...
... just love. Make love. Make ART. Free-flowing, physical, spontaneous art ... is what this love was ... tangibly expressing itself as. Make it.
Make pleasure.
Pleasure.
Mmm ...
" ... mm. Mm ... "
He went down, down ...
... down on her. All the way down. To where his paws were on her soft, soft thighs. To where he could push them open (with no resistance). To where, bending over, on his shins and knees, he could ... wriggle more to a lie-down. Could ... put his nose there.
There.
The treasure of her. The beauty ... the thicker tufts of pure, holy-white fur, and ... the thinnest layer of white fuzz around the lips. And the lips themselves. Where no fur grew. Just ... flesh. Pink, soft, vulnerable. Exposed. And between them? Jewels ... of femininity ... such ... delicacy. Such ...
... mm ... mmm ...
His nose went in. For a sniff or two ... his whiskers brushing her thighs. And then her vulva itself. And ... that first tentative lick. Right up and down the line of her pussy. That first thrilling taste of ... her body. The lusty want of her ... mixed with the loving need of her. Forging new experiences and feelings altogether.
Mice, because of their natural gentility and submissiveness, gave oral better than almost any other furry species. Maybe they didn't have the longest, most twisting tongues, but ... general consensus was that: mice gave the best oral. It was simply in their nature to ... be submissive. To be so caring. To ...
... oh, it was a treat.
And Aria's heart hammer-hammered in her breasts. Which rose and fell, rose and fell, her nipples hard from the previous sucking. And from the anticipation of what was to come.
More shy tastes. His tongue-tip resting on her pussy-lips. Lifting. So he could move an inch to the side and mouth the thicker, heavily-scented tufts of fur ... on her groin. Fur was typically thicker near the groin. He sucked ... matted it all, and traced his tongue on her labia. Wetting the snowy fuzz outside ... and the fleshy, wet lips inside.
"Oh ... oh," she whispered, unable to help it. Hot beneath her fur. Legs bent at the knees, spread wide open, with the sole-pads of her foot-paws flat on the sheets. Her clawed toes wriggling.
Ross was on his bare, muddy-colored belly now, and hooked both arm around her thighs. Paws clutching fur. Tongue exploring deeper, more hungrily, and ... vagina. He shivered as his tongue met it. The thrill, and the ... moistness ... pure, one hundred percent ... unfiltered femme. On his tongue. In his nose. A sheath for his penis. A gateway to life. A thing of pure, spiritual beauty ... and he retracted his arms and paws, panting, so he could hold open her pussy-lips and ... just look. Just stare. For nearly a minute ... and then his eyes slowly drank in the rest of it. Up to her cute, little clitoris. "You're beautiful ... " He whispered it to her. Continuing to stare. That ... nub of hers. Mm ... and ... eyes going back down, and ...
... muzzle going down, too, again, and tongue slipping just inside the entrance. He could only manage to get it just inside. His tongue wasn't good enough to tongue-fuck her. But ... no matter. It ... there were other ways to pleasure her, and ... soon, his muzzle gently pressed forward and up. Forward and up. Tongue licking along the lower portions of her pussy. Every time. And worming back to her opening. Before muzzle-humping again.
Muzzle-hump ... muzzle-hump ...
"Ohh ... uhhn," were her light, light moans. Airy sounds. Exhales.
He didn't stop.
"Huh," she exhaled, voice a bit shaky. Her breasts rose and fell, and ...
... his scritched a paw on her belly. Softly, softly, while ... softly muzzle-humping her pussy. Before his motion slowed, and he stopped, and ... resumed his careful, attentive licking. Up, up ... to that nub. Her clitoris.
Belly rising and falling with her breasts. For breath.
Her body was so warm. So soft, so warm ... and so very real. He couldn't get enough. She was his mate. She was so, so beautiful. So poised. So controlled. Such a snowy white ... and it didn't matter if other furs called her 'ice queen' behind her back. He knew better. He knew ... the passionate heat that was buried within. He'd tasted of it. Smelled it. Witnessed it. In her eyes. Her words. Maybe she couldn't express it, but ... he KNEW it was there.
A sigh from her, and ... a gasp. And a sigh ...
... as, fingers tracing on one of her thighs, he slid his lips over her erect, little clitoris. Just his lips. And ... hummed. Hummed lowly.
"Huh ... huhn." Arch! "Huhh ... "
He stopped. And ... lip-nibbled. Lip-nibble. And hummed once more, and ... stuck his tongue out (as far as it would go). And danced it atop the little thing.
Now came the animal sounds. The sounds of pure pleasure. The sounds native to her species. With Ross, his animal sounds were ... squeaks. Chitters. With her, it was ... yips. Yips and high-pitched barks. And little growl-purrs (that had to be HEARD to be understood).
Two of his fingers, then ... massaged her lower pussy-lips. Rubbed, rubbed. Pulled them open. Ran little circles around her vulva, before sliding in. Through the lips, and ... to her vagina. Both fingers worming in. Slowly. Slowly. Sliding. Inches ... inches in. And then pumping. From the knuckles to the finger-tips, pumping out and in.
"Huhhn, uhnn ... uh ... " Baited breaths, and ... squirms. Her body writhing a bit. Yip, yip!
Free paw on her belly, he held her down. Lip-nibbling and fingering, and ... his fingers curling upward. To massage at the walls of her vaginal canal. Her tunnel. Rub, rub ...
... suck, suck ... stop. Exhale hot, moist air, and ...
... squeal! Squeal! Her wet, pink, muscular vagina clamped on his fingers. In spasms. Tremors that flung pure physical pleasure from her heated, wavering pussy ... to all corners of her sweat-matted, snowy body. The juice of her orgasm dripping down his fingers, to his paws ... and to the sheets of the bed. Quiver. Clamp, clamp ... milk, milk. Milking his fingers ... as if milking a penis. But only fingers this time. No male milk ... to milk for. But her body didn't know that. It kept quivering ...
... as her breasts, nipples rock-hard, heaved. Her eyes squeezed shut. Muzzle open, huffing. "Ohh ... huuhhh. Ohh," she breathed. Deep inhale! "Oh ... " Sigh! Deep inhale ... " ... mm ... " Smaller sigh. Until she regained her composure. Until the wave had passed. Until ...
... he, panting hotly, pulled back a bit, slowly withdrawing his fingers from her body. And putting them to his lips. Rubbing the juice on his lips, and then sliding his fingers inside his muzzle. Sucking them slowly as she, through barely-opened eyes, watched. Still heaving, and ... giving him a dazed, little nod. Giving him permission for what ... she knew he needed. What he needed next.
They were partners. MATES. They pleasured each other. They bestowed pleasure.
Aria's turn.
As Ross, on all fours, crawled up the bed ... and ... further. His erect, sheath-less, five-inch cock, pink and rather adorable (to her mind ... it really was) ... it dangled between his legs. Balls swollen, drawn tight in his sac (which was covered with thick, muddy-colored fur). He was stringing pre like ... strands of a spider web. Glistening, trailing strings ... dripping to her fur. As, panting eagerly, squeaking from the throat, he pulled his body up a bit. Sitting on his shins and knees ... paws gripping the headboard of the bed. Leaning forward, slanting himself ...
... so that, her head, propped up by a pillow ... could very easily suckle the length of him.
Which is what she did.
He drew a breath.
Her sweet, loosened lips slid down his shaft. The sensitive, smooth flesh. Immediately getting a taste of him. THE taste of him. To the base. Pause, pause, nose flaring ... for breath. Her whiskers drooped from her orgasm (and the heat their bodies were giving off). Her slender ears pliably drooped on the pillow, and ...
... " ... hmm, mm ... um," Ross whimper-squeaked, his bare, pink tail ... snake-snaking in the air. Like a live wire.
Her lips pulled back. Pull back. To the tip. And suckle on JUST the tip. Drive him crazy. Make him ...
... moan out. Make him ... squeak! Squeak!
And slide back down. Let him marinate in the heat and wetness of your maw. Let him breathe with pinwheels in his closed eyes. Before ...
... sliding back up. Sucking on just the swollen tip again. By far, the most sensitive part of his penis, and ... lick at the salty pre. And start to bob your muzzle. And ...
... hum. Like he'd hummed on her clitoris.
Hear him huff, huff ... smell his mousey sweat, and hear his nose sniff-twitch. His heart patter.
Simply suckle his penis. Make him feel like a male ... stimulate, celebrate ... his body. His gift of giving himself to her. Suck, suck, suck ...
... and ravage that deep-pink tip. Until his sac, so tight, his balls ... so big ... his cock, so rigid ... until sensitivity forced him to squeak. To chitter-squeak. In high, airy pitches. Until his body, flushed with heat and pleasure ... cried out.
Until he came.
"Ahh! Hahhh ... ahnnn ... " Moans of eyes-forced-shut pleasure. Body sagging. Heart racing. Mind ... sparking! Like fireworks had just gone off inside him! Ignited ...
... by her. She'd lit his fuse, alright. Oh ...
... the milky-white, steamy semen spurting to her tongue. Spurt, spurt. Spurt. Penis jolting it out ... with each pleasured, involuntary spasm. Not knowing it was sowing in a muzzle (not a vagina). But still sowing.
And if her femininity was fertile soil. Was a gateway to life ... then these were the seeds. The very seeds of life. And evidences of pleasure.
Male milk.
Pooling on her tongue, flowing across her teeth, to the sides of her muzzle. Her cheeks. Until he'd been milked dry.
Until, moaning and chittering, he huffed hard ... trying to regain a semblance of composure. And, with a slight, airy 'ohh' ... he pulled out of her muzzle. Slowly. So as not to hit her teeth. Pulling out. Penis starting to shrink a bit, and ... glistening in the dim, dim light. Covered with fluid, and ... flopping a bit (in front of her nose and lips) ... he drew back ... to a straddle of her waist. And paws on the sheets. At a leaning straddle. Panting ... and eyes on her ...
... as she, with eyes closed, head on pillow, slowly sloshed the vole seed around in her mouth. Getting the taste and consistency of it. Letting herself know what it was. And what it meant. Before swallowing. In two gulps ... with a third necessary to ingest any remnants. She, for one, found the taste ... erotic. If something could, indeed, taste erotic.
Ross, smiling very shyly (always bashful after orgasm) ... looked to her. And put his paws on her body. Gently massaging her breasts. Mouthing, "Thank you ... Aria ... thank you ... I love you ... " Mouthing such tender things. Eyes welling. Even though he was smiling, his eyes still welled. The ... the experience, the intimacy, and ...
... she was truly healing him.
As he was healing her. For her heart swelled, and she whispered back, "Thank you ... also. I ... love you, too." Would she ever tire of saying that? Would it's weight ever lessen?
Right now, it reverberated with all of God's grace.
The stars streamed by outside the window, seemingly witnessing ...
... that they, the icy snow rabbit and emotional meadow mouse, were, indeed, together. Unlikely as it was. Together.
Better.
Healing with love.