Teeth-marks
Alabaster, his white fur damp with sweat, smelling so hot ... his naked, lazy body half-draped across hers, sniffed at her breast. Sniff-sniff, and a nose on her nipple ... soon, nose moving up, away, replaced by lips. "This ... this," he whispered, lips hovering above her rigid, pink nub, "is my favorite nipple ... "
"I didn't," breathed Olivia, his partner for the night, "know ... I didn't know," she said, her breathing very warm, and noticeably labored, "that you had a favorite."
He buried his muzzle in his fellow snow rabbit's bosom. And he breathed slowly, softly ... and a shiver went down his bare back, down his spine, to his bobtail. Making it flicker absently. Making him huff out, muzzle roving over her soft, furry mounds, and going back to his 'favorite nipple' ... and giving a suckle or two.
"Mm ... "
Suckle-suckle, with eyes closed, nose flaring. Suck, suck, wriggle your tongue on her nipple ... make your muzzle dance, and try not to appear too horny. Try to hide the drool that drips from the corners of your lips.
"Mm," was her continued sound, almost like a mew. Mew ... mew ... so soft, such a sound. Teasing his ears.
His white, bulging sheath ... revealed what it housed. A swollen, pink glans ... a drop beading at the tip. More and more emerging. The full head, and the first inch of the shaft, and ... slowly, slowly, it slipped out ...
... and the emergence of it ... was watched, by Olivia, with half-open eyes. Her pupils dilated, and head propped up with a big, white pillow. "I do enjoy ... h-how it appears," was her random, little comment. "It is ... it is like," she whispered, "a promise coming forth. An affirmation of physical fire."
Alabaster, his rabbit-hood at six inches, fully out ... but not yet fully stiff ... he breathed hard, swallowing, lips sliding (with the tiniest of 'slip' sounds) off her nipple. His bare, white belly was on top of her, and ... so tangled, so askew, body-on-body, fur-on-fur, and, chin on her breasts, he looked her in the eyes.
She returned the gaze.
"You are giving off ... a very," he mouthed, "strong ... scent."
Her breathing was audible.
He, suddenly, gave an eye-smile ... and gave the slightest of nods. She was in heat. He pulled back, swallowing, and pushed her legs further apart. Getting to his knees on the sheets between them, and looking down. Swollen, so-pink lips, and almost red ... the glimpses of her vaginal canal (which he got by carefully prying her labia apart).
"I wished to surprise you ... "
Alabaster said nothing at first. Just staring. Just allowing his finger-trips to trace her pussy. The thicker tufts of white fur that covered her mons, and barely-there, white-white hairs that covered the very edges of her vulva. At that little perimeter where the fur stopped and the flesh started. Felt like velvet. The snow rabbit, again, parted her lady-lips with his fingers ... touched along the insides, and ... fingers moving up, so his thumb could softly, so slowly wag, wag, wag on her hooded clitoris.
"A-alabaster ... "
"It is shy," was his quiet, formal reply. "I wish to draw it from its hood ... " And he continued thumbing, tweaking her clitoris. Continued to make her squirm.
The pleasure of her weak head-shaking, and her paws clutching, gathering the white sheets ...
He played her like a prized instrument. He knew how to please a femme. He was a snow rabbit. He'd had lots of practice ...
"Ah," she mewed, almost inaudibly ... " ... ah ... "
"That feels good," he stated for her.
A breath-quivering nod, her head-fur rustling on her pillow. Her legs, without her knowledge (the motion was so instinctual) raised ... knees bending, and legs parting ... her femininity presented in full, heated view.
And Alabaster, nodding, breathing through the nose, whispered, "Good ... good ... " It never failed. He knew how to work his partners ... without fail, he could get his femmes to present themselves for breeding ... without asking. Without forcing their legs fully up and open with his paws. He prided himself on getting them to 'present' like that. On instinct. On touch alone. On ...
" ... on," she huffed, breath shaking. "Put it ... put it on," she rasped.
Still on his knees, his erection raging hard (and his breeding instinct flaring, flaring), he asked, swallowing, "Where is it?" A bit of urgency now in his voice. He was losing control. Had spent all his resistance on hyping his partner up ... but the breeding was always best when the femme was fully aroused.
"It's," Olivia said, drawing a breath, "in the first drawer ... the bedside stand."
Alabaster crawled, stretched over her, fumbling at the stand-drawer, and he got it open, snatched the little package, and ... shut the door, leaning back, sinking back onto his knees. As a formality, he quickly scanned the text on the package ... 'penis type: rabbit ... features: ribbed; tapered end ... color: clear' ... and his fingers were already tearing the condom out.
Olivia just laid there, legs spread, foot-paws on the sheets, knees bent ... resting her muscles a bit. And then pulling her knees back, pulling her foot-paws off the bed, so that they hung in the air ...
He began to put the little, plastic sheath over his aching, ready cock ...
... when she flicker-flicked her tail. It was on the sheets, jutting out from her rump, and flickering, and it was waving her scent to his nose. The few feet of distance.
Alabaster caught his breath, mewing, fumbling with the condom. He knew she'd done that on purpose ... her way of teasing him (as he'd teased her). Her bobtail flickering, stirring the close-by air, and ...
... it was on him, and he was on her, and jabbing his hips, quickly, rabbit-like, and ...
" ... oh! Oh ... " He was in. He was in ... halfway swallowed by her vagina, and sinking, slipping deeper, until he was at a hilt. And, there, he paused. "Uh," he panted, swallowing, eying the water bottle on the bedside stand (filled with ice). He was going to be needing that. But, for now, his eyes returned to her, and, still at a hilt, he began to grind, grind his hips to hers, the close, heated friction drawing collective huffs from their muzzles.
Olivia's eyes, hooded, half-closed, stayed on her partner.
"Ol-olivia ... " He mouthed her collarbone, which showed through her fur, and, slowly, he worked his way to her neck, and ... " ... uh, uh," he went, giving a few, static humps. His breath was shaking by the time he'd gotten to nibbling, with his big, front rabbit teeth, on her ear ...
"Be ... be sure," she whispered, in that restrained, formal sense of snow rabbit 'playfulness' ... " ... not to leave any ... t-teeth-marks."
"I will try not to, my love," was his reply ...
... and, through her pleasured, rising haze, through her pulsing, pounding need to breed, she did a silent double-take. He'd called her 'my love' ... and, he, himself, hadn't recognized it. It must've slipped out ... 'my love' ... her eyes closed. Why? Why'd he do that ... why ...
... his hips pulled back, stiff, slick shaft (covered in the little, plastic sheath of the condom ... which, Lord, he wished to take off ... male furs universally LOATHED condoms, but they were the best form of birth control, so all male furs used them during their mate's heats ... and furry femmes had found, by now, ways of 'convincing' their males to put them on; pills and injections often had negative, unintended side effects ... while condoms had none, with the exception of dulling the sensations of intercourse a tad) ... his shaft revealed, almost to the tip, until he pushed back in with a fleshy, slurping sound.
"Uh," Olivia went, thoughts wandering ... her loins burned. The need to be filled, to have something, anything ... inside her ... throbbed. And was being satiated by that which the need demanded most: penis. Perfect piece of blood and flesh. Perfectly filling, perfectly rubbing, bumping, sliding against her wet, wet walls, creating a sort of blissful, natural friction that was driving her wild ... and causing her to sigh with relief (all at once) ...
... and Alabaster knew, as skilled a breeder as he was, how to angle into her at just the right angles. So as to stimulate the most sensitive parts of her walls. So as to make his body grind as close as it could to her clitoris.
"Hah ... ahhh ... " Olivia's arms and legs, by now, were latched around the trunk of his body ... and heels of foot-paws digging into the backs of his thighs. She held on. Held on ... mewing ... mew-mew-mew ... in that delicate, pleasured way.
Him purring rabbit-purrs from the throat, pleased, pulling ... pushing ... penis plowing its way though her gloriously hot femininity. "Mmm ... hmmm ... mm ... " Such a steady, growing rhythm. Such a ...
... squeal as left her throat. So aroused, so worked up, so ready ... as to be staving off orgasm with a sweaty squirm. C-calm ... calm down. Not yet ...
"Uh, huh," Alabaster breathed, trim body atop hers, both of them writhing. Her back on the sheets, and his muzzle seeking hers. He whispered something. Several things ...
... which made her hooded eyes raise. Which made them open fully, and ... they darted to meet his. She let out a shaky breath, licking her dry lips.
And he gave the slightest of nods. As if indicating a 'yes' to her silent question of 'did you just say that?' ...
He broke the pause ... with a lick to her nose. Making it to sniff. Making her whiskers to twitch. Making her to sigh out.
And she, still licking her lips, began to lick his own.
Until their muzzles were locked, tilted in a sucking, succulent kiss. Saliva-swapping, tongue-touching kisses. Oh, breathe ... remember to breathe!
Breathless!
And ... and ... don't forget the hips. Don't forget to ...
... grind, grind. Stop. Pull back and ... hump!
"Uh ... "
Buck-buck ... buck ... never so purely male as this. As giving her this.
And her, never so purely a femme ... as in receiving it. And mewing out ... mew ... " ... mm, hmm ... mm!"
"Huh! Uhn!" Alabaster's form, his poise ... all of it began to break down. As it always did as the tingling of climax began to snake its delivering promise through his body.
But, even so, she broke first ... this time, for good. Her pussy-walls shaking, quivering, in fabulous, fluttering tremors, her vagina almost squeezing, milking the bow that had played her strings so well ... and the juice of her femme nectar soaked the sheets, and wetted his tight, furry ball-sac. Adding to the scent of overwhelming yiff in the air ...
" ... hah, hahhn ... uhnnn. Uhgg," he moaned, eyes squeezing shut in watered, pin-wheeling ecstasy. Bliss must've been, the snow rabbit reasoned (in the back of his unfocused mind) ... bliss must be, vulnerable and sweaty, ejaculating in the one you loved. Or, at least, it was male bliss, and ... oh, to be a male ... oh ... he felt a swell of pride as his penis jerked, jerked. Spurting seed. Even knowing it was all collecting in the tapered end of the condom ... he still purred in pride. For HE was the one who was breeding her. She was in heat, and HE was breeding her. No one else. He was. He was breeding her now ... he, huffing air, gave a rabbit bark. And then another. And another ...
... and the sounds of declarative male pleasure and possession, they rung in her slender, waggling ears. Echoing. Flushed beneath her fur, the pleasure flitting through her nerves, pussy quivering, quivering in after-shocks ... Olivia hugged her male's twitching, mewing body. As he endured orgasm. As she endured hers.
They held.
They latched.
They got through it. Huffing, matted. And both in dire need of water ... but, to reach the water bottle, he'd need to pull out of her body, and he would NOT do that ... not yet ... let his penis shrink, first ...
"Oh," she went, with such delicacy. "Oh ... "
Alabaster softly moved to kiss her. Lips-on-lips, muzzle-to-muzzle, with whiskers touching ...
The blunt claws of her fingers dug through his fur.
His nose flared, twitching, and ... the kiss broken, he panted hard, resting his nose in her neck-fur. He sniffed at her.
She sniffed at him ...
... and, after another minute, he finally pulled out of her, his rabbit-hood limper, and the condom weighed down with collected semen.
"Allow me," she whispered, before he could take it off. And she, panting a bit, shifted positions, getting to her knees (he, now, on his knees, as well), and she gently unrolled the little, artificial sheath, and got it off him. A paw wrapping round his now-sticky, softening cock ... and giving it an affectionate squeeze.
He closed his eyes and breathed through the nose.
And she let go. And she sniffed at the condom, shivering, unable to help herself ... sticking her tongue in, and working the thing, with her fingers, inside out ... lapping up the semen. A few strings dripped to her belly-fur, but she swallowed most of it ... and, sighing, satisfied, she tossed the now-empty condom aside.
He watched her, staring, heart not having slowed yet ...
... and she eye-smiled. "We ... we need," she whispered, "water."
A weak, flushed nod, and he reached for the water bottle. Deferring it to her first, and, oh, did she drink! Gulp, gulp, gulping, water trickling down her lips, weighing down her whisker-tips ... until she sighed heavily, panting, and gave the bottle to him.
He polished off the rest. And it was a big bottle.
And, then, for a moment ... there was silence.
Olivia eventually saying, in hushed tones, "What you said to me ... "
" ... I meant." Alabaster's eyes were serious. Icy-blue and unwavering.
"Love is not ... not acceptable," she said, "for breeding partners. You would be banished from the party for feeling this."
"Which is why I was hoping you felt it, too," was his simple response. And he had to look away. And he wrung his paws. "I ... I love you." Pause. "Olivia ... surely, over the past weeks, you've come to notice my affections. How they've been stronger than your other partners."
A tiny, tiny nod. "I have," she whispered.
Both rabbits were still on their knees, their shins, their rumps resting on the heels of their foot-paws. And their bobtails exposed.
"But, even so ... "
"I have ... I have spent time," Alabaster said, "thinking about this. I ... I used to hate the Arctic foxes. But I have now forgiven them. I know that redemption is now possible. Before, I ... my heart was hardened. But I ... " He trailed. "I am changing. I used to be concerned with nothing in the realm of feelings, but ... now, I am curious. I believe that certain emotions can be harvested in safe quantities ... that we can feel more within the limits of our freezes." A pause. "Aria and Arianna have proven that. I ... I have warmed to their faith."
"You wish to engage in a Christian mate-ship with me?" Olivia whispered ... " ... monogamous. Devoted. Like the warm-bloods?"
"I love you," was all he said. "I know I do."
"I have never heard a snow rabbit confess of 'love' to me ... "
A weak tilt of the head. "But I feel it," he assured. "Not fully, of course. Not even close. But ... enough of a sliver of something to know that ... that's what it is." He looked to the sheets. "I wish to be your sole breeder. To breed you daily. I do not ... want other rabbits inside you," he confessed. "The thought of it ... makes me uncomfortable."
Olivia was quiet.
"A few days ago," he continued, "during the football game in the simulation room ... I saw how you looked at me. I heard the things you said. And I ... I've seen how your body responds to mine. But, more importantly, how deeply your eyes appear when our gazes meet." A pause. A breath. "I believe there is more to life than ... I ... I want more," he whispered. "I want you."
She continued to listen. Her slender, waggle ears held tall.
"You do not need to give an answer," he informed her, "if you do not wish. I would understand. But I ... I wish to leave the way of breeding parties. I wish to change ... while I am able. Before I am too set in my ways. While I am young."
Her nose, doing a singular twitch, was pointed in his direction.
"But I cannot do it alone. I am not strong enough. I cannot last on this ship without someone to breed with. I need someone with me ... "
She swallowed, nodding. Nodding lightly. "I have seen," she whispered, "some kind of change overtaking you ... in recent weeks. I am not as surprised by your words as you may think."
He bit his lip. A very informal motion. An expressed sign of nervousness.
Olivia's paws went to own ears. "You did not leave any teeth-marks."
"I promised I would not."
"You have been, from the start, an expert nibbler. That I should trust you to nibble on my frozen heart ... " She exhaled, looking to the sheets. Eyes distant. And then darting to him. "I accept," she whispered, "your offer."
Alabaster blinked several times.
A moment of silence. "How will we inform the others? They will not appreciate this ... they may shun us."
"Aria and Arianna won't ... the warm-bloods won't."
"The rest of the snow rabbits ... "
" ... will adapt. The ship's breeding parties can rearrange themselves. Trade members. They will balance themselves out."
A nod. "I suppose they will." Her eyes, doing a slow, dawning eye-smile ... they were glacial in their glory. "My mate." A tilt of the head. "The words are not familiar to my tongue."
"Then we will have to say them often. My mate," he said to her.
"My mate," she whispered back.
"I ... I have a copy of the mating vows," he said, "on a pad somewhere." He scanned around. "It's in the other room." He swallowed. "We both say the words, before each other, and before God ... as a verbal affirmation of a spiritual endeavor."
"Then you must get the pad," she said.
He, eye-smiling, feeling a bit dizzy, nodded quickly, eagerly, and slipped off the bed, loping out of the room.
She watched him go. And waited for him to return. Her mate.
A blunt-clawed, blue paw reached over and activated the shower controls ... turning it on. The streaming jet of steamy-hot water, pouring from the showerhead. And warming, warming, warmed.
"Come on," Barrow whispered, holding his paws out.
And the chipmunk delicately took them, smiling, her nose giving a deep sniff-twitching breath. "You know, if we shower," she said, hesitating to get in (with a playful look on her muzzle), "that's, like, you know ... the point of no return."
Barrow blinked.
"It negates anything ... any friction," Bic explained, "from happening afterwards. Cause we'd only get messy again, and we'd only have to take another shower, and ... well, are we sure we wanna be clean yet?"
The bat giggle-chittered. "You're quite the thinker, you know that?"
A coy tilt of the head. Eyes gleaming. "Mm-hmm."
"Well, how 'bout this: maybe we do some stuff IN the shower, and then it's, like, a two-for-one."
"Stuff?" she asked, with mock innocence.
"Mm." He put his muzzle to her neck. Put his nose there. And breathed of her, and sighed out, his ears hearing the streaming patter-pat of the water ... as well as her breathing. And his own. "Mm-hmm. Stuff ... "
"I think we're both being silly," was Bic's response. "I think we should just get into the shower," she declared, "and see," she said, her voice lowering to a whisper, "how the Spirit moves us."
"A plan," the bat replied, "if I ever heard one. Now," he said, "come on, then ... shoo ... shoo." He nudged her into the shower, the chipmunk giggle-squeaking, her brushy tail flitting behind her, and then getting soggily soaked. Along with the rest of her. Fur matted with pelting, warm water, appearing flatter, darker.
And he slipped in after her, drawing the shower curtain to a close. Leaving them in the shower stall ... which was also the tub. They were standing in the tub, and the showerhead, in the wall, was aimed directly at them ... all furry bathtubs were built to easily accommodate two (should the need every arise ... as, perhaps, it often did).
And he kissed her on the soft, wet cheek.
And, oh, she did squeak ... as she wrapped her arms and paws around his lower back. As she pulled him close. Pulled him belly-to-belly.
And let the kisses flow! Faster than water, faster than ...
... the chill that suddenly ran up his spine. Making the fur on the back of his neck stand up. And the bat blinked and pulled back.
Bic, blinking, too, asked, "What's wrong?"
The periwinkle bat just took a breath, shook his head, and forced a smile back onto his muzzle, and went back to her ... only to be hit with the same, fearsome feeling ... and, again, he pulled back, with his eyes darting this time.
"Barrow?"
No response.
"Barrow?" she chittered. "What's wrong?"
He swallowed, eyes moving back to hers. Saying ...
" ... they're watching us."
"The wasps?" Aria asked.
A quiet nod. "Yes. I mean, I ... that's what it felt like. Not 'wasps,' plural, but one in particular."
"The wasps do not have telepathic abilities," the Captain responded. "It has not been documented."
"'Wasp' ... 'wasp' ... it was one. It was her."
Aria waited.
"The Queen."
The snow rabbit's eyes went to his desktop, and then ... flicked up back to him. "The existence of a 'Wasp Queen' has been speculation ... she has not been seen, not been ... you're sure that's who it was? That's WHAT it was?"
"I ... I'm pretty sure. She was in my head. She left some thoughts in there, and ... I think she did it to scare us. To taunt us."
"How so?" Aria whispered. She was in sickbay. Standing in his office.
Barrow was in his chair, sitting up straight, appearing to be nervous. Bic was a few feet away, biting her lip. The bat had taken himself to sickbay to run scans, et cetera, to make sure he hadn't been insane, or wasn't sick, and ... when he was sure enough of what had happened, had called Aria down here. The snow rabbit, dressed in a bra and form-fitting shorts, had obviously been with her own mate ...
"Barrow?"
"Uh, I ... I know what I felt. I'm not crazy."
"I did not imply you were. I do believe you," the snow rabbit assured. "But, please, concentrate ... you said she meant to taunt us? How?"
"They know we're looking for an ice world for the Arctic foxes to relocate to ... they know we're harboring the survivors on your, uh, your moon." A pause. "The wasps don't like prey."
"I had figured as much," Aria whispered, very quietly.
"I think they're gonna be waiting at any ice world we come to ... and I think, eventually, they're gonna try and wipe out your own species. And ... I mean, once they either get rid of or control the perimeter worlds ... they destroyed the Arctic fox Home-world, and if they take yours? Then they inch closer and closer to the heart of the quadrant. There aren't enough ships out here to stop them ... I don't know, Captain. I just ... I don't know. I just have a bad feeling." A pause. "She was in my head," he whispered.
Bic, who had been quiet until now, asked her mate, "Can't you do the same to her?"
Barrow turned his head. As did Aria.
The chipmunk swallowed. "She can get into your head. Can you get into hers?"
Aria looked to the doctor, and asked, "Is your telepathy advanced enough to ... "
" ... slip into other fur's heads unnoticed?" he finished. And he swallowed. Eyes darting. And he nodded weakly. "Yes."
Aria just nodded quietly, leaning against the desk, her bobtail flicking.
"But, Captain ... "
"Do you think you can try?"
" ... I'm sure the Wasp Queen has far more powerful abilities than me. I mean, she's nowhere near Arctic, right? She must be light years away. I can only sense and feel the furs ON the ship. In close proximity. If I wanted to get into her head, or mess with her, I'd have to be in the same structure, the same vicinity ... and ... and I doubt that's gonna happen."
"Why not?"
"The wasps will never let us get that close to their Queen. I mean, she's probably under constant guard, well-hidden ... I mean, we didn't even know she existed until know."
"But the fact remains," Aria reasoned aloud. "Without the Queen, the wasps will have no order, no structure ... their entire sense of being will collapse."
"Yes," the bat said, nodding a bit.
"But, ma'am," Bic said, piping up. "It's not that simple."
"How so, lieutenant?"
"Well, I'm the science officer, aren't I? I mean, I know a bit about collective consciousness ... we COULD get rid of the Queen, somehow, but ... that would leave MILLIONS of individual wasps. With no clear plan, and with new feelings of confusion, they ... they may act rashly. Plunging the wasps into internal anarchy ... may have side-effects on the rest of us."
"True. But individual threats are preferable, right now, to collective ones. I doubt individual wasps would be able to destroy stars. Or commit genocide. It is like a snake. If you chop off the head, the body will die. We kill the Queen, and the other wasps may wriggle out from the shock ... but, eventually, they'll fall."
The others were quiet at the morbid comparison.
"I fought in war," the snow rabbit reminded them. "I have seen ... violence. I have fought predators, tooth and claw. I know what they can do ... and I know ... " She trailed, closing her eyes. And she shook her head a bit, opening her eyes. "The wasps are almost certainly plotting to wipe out my species. I cannot let that happen."
Bic nodded. "I agree ... I just ... I'm just saying that get ridding of the Queen won't be a cure-all. And, you know, what if they have other femme wasps in incubation somewhere? So, if ONE Queen is killed, another is taken out of stasis ... and takes her place? I mean, to only have ONE Queen ... that's not very efficient. And the wasps are very efficient."
"True," Aria whispered, her waggle-ears drooping a bit.
"So, taking out the Queen wouldn't ... wouldn't work?" Barrow asked them.
"Maybe. Maybe not. But I just don't see how we could do it," Bic said. "And we're only one ship. If we wanna undertake a strike against them, we'd need a FLEET. And we don't have that kind of support right now. No, if we wanna move against them, it's gonna take time, planning ... it can't be anytime soon."
"No," Aria agreed. And a sigh, and she rubbed her paws on her muzzle. "For the safety of the crew, and ... for feasibility, we'll have to leave any preemptive strike against the wasps," she whispered, "for a future date." The snow rabbit yawned, and put her paw in front of her muzzle. "Excuse me," she managed, clearing her throat.
Bic just smiled ... for whatever reason, snow rabbits were SO adorable when they yawned.
Aria sighed. "Nevertheless, Barrow, I wish for you to keep an 'open mind,' as it were ... when a full-out conflict with the wasps does come, telepathy may be our greatest weapon."
A quiet nod.
"I will inform the admirals back on my Home-world," Aria said, "of this. I will urge them to start planning." A pause. "But, for now, I am going to go back to my quarters. I am going to enjoy the rest of the night."
Bic smiled. "Sounds like a plan."
Aria eye-smiled. "It does," she agreed, and she slowly started to leave ... and then stopped. Hesitating, and turning around, her eyes darting a bit ... " ... Barrow," she asked.
"What? What's wrong?"
"You okay, ma'am?" Bic asked.
The snow rabbit looked to the both of them. "Yes. I ... I just need to take one of your medical scanners."
"What for?" Barrow pressed.
"I've need of one," was all she said.
And the bat gave her the scanner, and she left, leaving the chipmunk and bat in the doctor's office, the sickbay lights somewhat-dim.
"You gonna be okay?" Bic asked.
Barrow nodded. "Yeah. Just feel kind of ... helpless, is all."
"Well, we all are. To varying degrees."
A nod.
"Now, shall we enjoy the rest of the night, as well?" his mate asked.
And the bat, showing his fangs a bit, and starting to relax, said, "I don't see why we shouldn't."
So, they went to do just that.