All Ears
The softest of sweet, squeaky moans, ears hot and sensitive. Flushed, gorged with blood, gone rosy-pink, extra-erogenous to every touch, every breath, every errant lick of her tongue.
Audra, panting lightly, leaned closer to him, muzzle inches from his right earlobe, that big, fleshy dish. A shaky exhale, her whiskers brushing against the perimeters, the rims. And her tongue giving modest, little licks to the interior. Her sniffy, nosy breaths filling his hearing and making him melt.
Deering whimper-squeaked in weak, effeminate pleasure, sinking further into the couch cushions. Her couch cushions. Her office. Her ...
Chirrup!
... door chime.
Chirrup!
"Go away," the field mouse cursed at the door, quietly, drawing a few stabilizing breaths. "Sorry, Deery ... should've turned the chime off." Audra, swallowing, pulled back a bit. She was still mostly dressed. They both were. So, she didn't need to fumble for anything as she padded to the door, took a deep breath, and tapped the 'open' button (for the door had been locked).
It swished apart, into the wall, revealing ...
" ... Rhine."
"Hey," the otter said, cheerily. And, taking a single sniff, she perked. "Ooh ... hey, what are ya doin' in there?" She poked her head in, taking a few steps. The door swishing shut behind her. "Hey, Deering."
The deer mouse, ears heavily rosy-pink, gave a weak wave with his fingers, looking even more shy than usual.
"You havin' sex?" Rhine asked Audra, eyes widening. "Why aren't ya naked?"
"We are not," the field mouse replied, carefully, "having sex ... " A trail, and, " ... we might've been about to have ear-sex," she amended, very quietly, "but ... "
" ... so, that's, like ... what's that for mouses? Second base? Third? It's not a home run ... "
" ... Rhine," Audra breathed, flushed beneath the fur. Impatience in her tone.
"Sorry. Heh, uh ... yeah, anyway, heard 'bout your meeting. Vote passed an' all, an' I came to tell you that the full Council vote is tonight at 6 ... so, looks like you got it done."
"You had to physically come into my office to tell me that? Why are you in the rodent wing of the building, anyway ... isn't there, uh ... mustelid? A wing for them. Aren't you one of those ... " A small shake of her head. " ... your office is there."
" ... y'are flustered, y'know that? It's very cute."
Audra's whiskers twitched.
"I just wanted t'be sure ya got the memo. Vote at 6. You both gotta be there, cause you sponsored the motion."
Audra nodded. "Well, we'll be there."
"Also, there's been some civil disturbances in some places, recently ... involvin' bats. The usual 'he was tryin' to read my mind' and 'she was gonna suck my blood' stuff ... typical paranoia. We got it under control, but the bat representatives want to launch a 'bat education' program. Like, an ad campaign. To dispel myths and rumors 'bout bats abilities. They insist this will cut down on crime 'gainst bats. The predators think it's a waste of tax money to create a program which tells furs things that should be common sense, but ... my reply to that was 'commonly, a lot o' furs got no sense.' Isn't that a good one? Heh!" The otter grinned. "So, that's gonna come up for vote by the end of the week, but the bats, since they're close friends of mouses, wanna correspond with you on that, so ... they'll be contacting you."
Audra, throughout all this, nodded thoughtfully, listening. And even, eventually, reached for a computer pad and tapped a few notes. Just to keep all of this organized.
"Also, because we found out there's an otter crew-fur on that Redwing Station ... y'know the one. Well, cause o' that, the otter offices are lendin' their official support to get the Federation militia to reinstate Redwing as a Federation-sponsored institution. Which would give them Federation protection and privileges. We were gonna lend it anyway, but ... "
"Yeah, uh ... I was gonna contact Peregrine, their commander. I am," she reminded, rubbing her forehead with her free paw, "a mouse representative for the Council." Her other paw held the computer pad.
Rhine, smiling, joked, "Really?"
"Yes," was the flustered reply, whiskers twitching. "Yes, and I work for the benefit of mouses, all mouses ... all across the Federation. Even ones in the middle of nowhere. My species is my main concern, so Peregrine's plight, him being a fellow mouse ... is well on my radar. I'll address it, okay?"
Rhine playfully held up her paws. " ... okay, okay. But," she said, "if you want to get Redwing re-instated, just know that, even though you prob'ly got majority Council support, it doesn't matter. Council has no jurisdiction over internal military protocol. The problem will be convincing the militia admirals that it's a worthwhile facility to uphold. They're convinced it's a waste o' time, an' that bogus testimony Terrence gave? They seemed to buy it hook, line, an' sinker. So, you gotta undo that propaganda damage, but ... it's gonna be a job. And does this Peregrine mouse even wanna come back into the fold? Or is he so ticked off he wants to stay independent? So ... the admirals don't like lingering issues. They like to nip things in the bud and move on. So, if you wanna do anything with that issue, make sure it's within the next week. Else they won't give you an audience."
"Will do. I'm not worried about it."
"Thought mouses were prone to worrying?"
"They are, and I worry about a lot of things, but ... right now, that's not one of them." A few more taps on her pad, and Audra cleared her throat, sighing and looking up at the otter. "Anything else?"
The rich, brown-furred otter, with her black, diamond-shaped nose and roundish ears, steered her sturdy rudder-tail for a few seconds and asked, with a cheeky smile, "Ear-sex, huh?"
A heavy, embarrassed sigh, flushing beneath the fur. "Rhine ... "
" ... y'know how cute that sounds?"
A whisker-twitch. "Rhine ... "
" ... no, but is that even allowed? I mean, for non-married, non ... unmated furs? I mean, going by the faith, I mean. I mean, me an' Ori didn't do any o' that 'fore we got married. But, then, otters don't have erogenous ears."
"It is allowed for us, actually, but that's a ... topic," the field mouse panted, "for another time and ... "
" ... how come that's ... like, it's cause mouses are an exception? I mean, not many species got ears you can do that with ... so, it must be an exception, or cause, like ears aren't private parts? I mean, it's a public, visible ... like, it's an ear," the otter stressed. "Not, like, sex organs? And cause no penetration, I bet. No puttin' stuff in each other's bodies. I mean, an ear's an ear ... an ear's not a penis or a ... "
" ... yeah, an ear's a different thing. We got abnormal ears. Rhine, please," Audra begged, squeakily.
The otter paused. "Ah. You're kinda horny."
"Yes, I am very, very," Audra whispered, twitching desperately, and catching herself before she said something crude. Finishing her sentence, instead, with, " ... very worked up."
"That what they're callin' it now?" A giggle.
"My door was locked for a reason!" she squeaked.
Rhine grinned widely, nodding. "Y'are flustered," she repeated. "I'll go."
"Thank you," Audra breathed, shoulders sinking with relief. The mouse tossed her computer pad to the couch, where Deering, twitching quietly, caught it and set it on a nearby lamp-stand.
As Rhine padded for the door, she reminded the mouse of the floor vote.
"I'll be there," Audra assured. "And I took note of everything else you told me, so ... any other news or anything else, you leave me a message. Or you tell me later." She began to push the bigger, taller otter to the door. It swished open.
Rhine, giggle-chirping, said, "I'm goin', I'm goin'! Heh ... but, y'know," she whispered, stepping back into the office, "if you two go ahead and mate, you could use a lot more than your ears."
"We're discussing it," Audra said.
"You'd make cute mates. It'd work. I know it would."
"If it happens, you'll be the first to know ... I don't have anything on my schedule until the vote, and I wanna spend it all with Deering."
"Gotcha." A wink.
"Rhine ... "
The otter, turning to go, stopped. "Mm?"
A sigh. "Okay, look, I'm sorry that ... that I'm, uh, snapping at you." A pause and a shy shuffle on her foot-paws. "I love you, you know? You're a dear friend."
The otter beamed. "I love ya, too."
Audra, whiskers twitching, whispered, "Don't tell any-fur, okay, about me and Deering? I think we're gonna end up mated before the night's through ... I'm almost sure of it," she confided. "I'd rather tell everyone myself, in the morning. But if you blab it around today, I'm gonna have a hundred furs knocking on my door with congratulations, and right now I don't want congratulations. I just ... "
" ... wanna snack on mouse ears?" And, seeing Audra's look, Rhine explained, "Ran into Russo in the hall, y'see. He told me how you an' Deering came to your office for a 'snack.' We debated what ya might be havin' ... cheese or somethin'. I'll have to tell him you're actually havin' 'mouse ears' ... bet that'll get an' eye-smile out of him."
A look from Audra, who was trying not to smile, herself.
The otter grinned some more. "Gotcha. Gonna go. And, seriously, lips," Rhine said, making a 'zip your lips' motion, "are sealed."
Audra gave the otter another look. An 'I am very serious' look.
"For real! Lips sealed."
"Go?"
Rhine giggle-chirped again, leaving, bidding, "Have fun ... bye Deering!"
"Bye," was the wispy, barely-heard response. The deer mouse had been very quiet throughout all this, letting the two femmes talk.
And, Audra, sighing a heavy sigh (and a muttered 'good grief'), locked the door again. And turned the chime off. And said, turning back to Deering, "They can use a battering ram on that thing, and I still won't let them in ... I'm so sorry about that." She padded back to the couch, body tingling, heart hammering. "She can be overwhelming, sometimes."
"It's okay," was the mouse's airy, little whisper. "Otters will be otters, even at inopportune moments."
Audra giggle-squeaked. "That they will ... " An exhale, back on the couch, leaning back into his soft, warm body. " ... mm. Your ears ... "
" ... what about yours?"
"We, uh ... take turns," Audra panted. "I can't exactly nibble on your ears while you nibble on mine. We'd need detachable heads."
The rural fur giggle-squeaked. " ... that's kinda funny. The though o' that, I mean ... "
" ... mm ... just relax, Deery." A pause. "I know I said I wouldn't call you Deery, even though you told me I could. But ... I want to, now. Is that okay?"
"It's fine," the mouse assured, paws gently in her fur, fingers trailing about. "Audra ... "
" ... yes?"
"Did you mean it, when you said to Rhine ... that we'd probably be mated b'fore the end of the day?"
Meeting his eyes, the field mouse took a breath through the nose. And nodded sincerely. "I meant it. But, uh ... let's talk about that in a bit. After we play with ... " A swallow. " ... with each other's ears. I mean, that's ... we gotta discuss it. The mate-ship. Where we'd live, et cetera. You're a rural fur, and I'm not, and would we live in the city or the country? And we gotta get the rings and say the vows to each other, and we could do that after we leave from the vote tonight, and ... and ... but I wanna talk about it first. I mean, to really ... so that we know ... that ... mm ... " A delightful, arching squeak, trailing off.
Deering, while she'd been stammering, had wriggled his body so that his muzzle had access to her right ear. With his lips, and with his rodent buckteeth, he nibbled delicately on the thin, pink perimeter.
Her breath became a bit shaky. "Oh ... Deery," she breathed. "I've wanted ... I've not had that done to me," she said, voice breaking, "in so ... so long, I ... " A deep breath. "Oh ... " This was but a morsel of the pleasure her body was crying for, throbbing for, aching for.
And a shy, tender whisper, so close to her lobe. "Like you said: ears first ... then talk."
An eager, panting nod. She wasn't going to argue with her own advice. Especially not when it was relayed back to her by someone as gentle and nice as him.
Deering, voice a whisper, put his muzzle on her neck. Leaving her ear for a moment. A pant, licking his dry lips, sucking on her neck. "I ... I wanna breed you," he managed, too worked up to stop himself from saying it, "so bad." A breath. "And I hope you won't think I'm crazy if I say I love you ... " His paws clutched at her fur, very needily.
"If you're crazy, then I am, too. Cause the love's mutual." A swallow. "We're furs, Deery. It's the way we are. Full of ... full of love and fur and fury, flying at us fast." There was a tremor in her voice. She wanted him just as bad as he wanted her. "But, for breeding ... we can wait a bit. Just ... wanna do it properly," she said. "I know you do, too. We can't imprint until," was her repeating breath, "it's official."
His body pulsed and twitched. He nodded weakly. "I know ... I know. I just ... "
" ... it's okay. I understand. I feel ... the same things, but, uh, just ... gimme your ear," she whispered. They were, at this point, a tangle of panting, baited breaths and whisker-twitches, and warm, wriggling forms. They were both losing running on dreamy, romantic energy.
A willing turn of his head, as they sank further back against the couch cushions, at lazy, sprawling sits, bodies touching, fur meshing. And her muzzle nosing at one of his rosy-pink, cherry-pink lobes. "You got a lot of blood in you. I've never seen an ear get so flushed."
A light, squeaky sound.
"Just relax," she told him. Parting her lips, tongue peeking out, muzzle leaning so close, and her tongue sliding along the inside of his ear-lobe. She almost imagined it sizzled as it went. Cause his ear felt so warm to the touch.
"Ah ... uh," he squeaked, weakly, lightly. He squirmed a bit, trying to pull away.
She didn't let him. Ears were sensitive things. At first, they always felt too sensitive, but once you got over the initial stimulation, the pleasure became quite ...
" ... oh."
"There you go," Audra whispered, right into his ear, feeling his body begin to relax. "Feels like you're gonna melt, right? Like you're just ... just gonna melt," she breathed, "in a pleasured pool of mouse?"
A weak, barely-made nod. A chitter.
"I have the same ears. I know how they work ... I'll be careful," she assured, privately, so quietly. "Just hold to my tail, okay ... " Her snaky, ropy tail swerved around.
His paws weakly grabbed for it, clutching it like a life-rope. His nose quivered, and his muzzle opened. "Ah ... ahn. Nnm."
She wetted his ear with her tongue, breathing into it with her muzzle, and nibbled on it with her lips.
Deering panted, in so much pleasure he began to whimper-squeak.
A heavy breath from her, hearing this, and she slowed her pace. "N-need a break?"
A weak, whisker-twitching nod.
"I can push you over the edge ... "
" ... I, uh, need to ... catch my breath," he said, weakly, swallowing. He wanted the ear-gasm badly. But if he didn't catch his breath before she finished him off, he'd end up gaping like a fish out of water.
Audra nuzzled his neck, her panties, beneath her clothing, a bit wet. She was leaking with arousal, her femininity flushed and pouting.
And Deering, even sitting upright, could smell it. It smelled good to his male instinct, and he sighed foggily as his nose incessantly sniffed. His mouse-hood fully erect, rubbing against the fabric of his white, cotton briefs, which made him dribble pre.
She, with darting eyes, saw the bulge in his pants. And swallowed, kissing the deer mouse on the lips. "Mm ... mm," she went, pressing, tilting her muzzle, leaning into him.
"Hmm," was his sniffy, nose-flaring breath, his arms weakly going round her body, pulling her closer, hugging her. "Mm ... " Smack-smack sounds of their lips, little pants, little wisps of words half-formed. And breaths mingling, saliva stringing. As they parted
"M-my ear," was her pant. "Uh ... " Deering hadn't even needed a split second before he indulged her. His muzzle was already there, already near, and he begin to nibble on her lobe, giving it lazy, little licks. "Huh ... " She, panting, figured out a way to stimulate his ear at the same time. No, it wasn't the same as muzzle-to-ear (which was true 'ear-sex'), but she found, with an arm wrapped around his neck, she could use her paw. Her paws. Her fingers. She could rub and brush and lightly tug. She ... oh, she ...
"Mm ... mm," he went, ever-so-carefully holding the edge of her ear between his lips, while his tongue slid over the flesh. And, letting go, he panted into her ear-canal, blowing hot air over the clear, invisible hairs in there.
And her furry fingers ran in circles, drawing shapes on the outside of his earlobe, moving to the inside, backtracking. Holding his lobe between her thumb and forefinger and wagging the thumb back and forth, and ...
... and, "Uh ... uh!"
"Hnn ... mmn ... "
Eventually, the two mouses, limbs wrapped round each other, mostly dressed, eeked and squeaked in ear-gasm, bodies arching, bumping, wriggling in bliss, tails tingling and whipping all about (for, in the weakness of his joy, her tail had slipped out of his paws, flailing alongside his own). Bare foot-paws erotically bumping, toes touching, noses all a-sniff and whiskers at a wild twitch. And ears, of course, wracked with a blood-lit fire, the heat dripping to their extremities. Their furry pelts matting with sweat.
"Oh ... oh, gosh," Audra eventually breathed, not wanting to move. Pressed against the male mouse. Nose on his shirt.
His arms were around her, holding her there. And he weakly twitched, eyes half-open, nose resting on her head-fur.
There was a moment of quiet. Before Audra managed, "Thank you ... " A breath, nuzzling him lovingly. "Thank you ... "
"I ... I love you," he replied, swallowing.
"Love you, too." She craned her neck and met his eyes from inches away. His eyes being blue. And hers green. "That felt so sweet."
Deering, flushed, nodded genuinely, whispering, "I, uh ... I think we'll have to change our plans."
"What do you mean?" she asked, eyes a bit wide, giving a tiny chitter.
"Well, we were gonna ... uh, play with our ears, and then talk. But I think I need some water first."
"Ears, water ... conversation." A smile. "I think we can adjust the schedule."
And Deering smiled brightly at this, nodding in agreement.
" ... all ice?" Russo repeated, shaking his head, pushing his silvery fork tines into some green, dew-wet lettuce leaves, which were sprinkled with carrot and radish shavings, as well as shredded cheese. He then brought the fork up, close to his lips. "A good deal of our planet is covered with ice, yes. Glaciers. Ice shelves. But no more than half. And we do have a summer season." He primly guided the fork-ful of salad into his muzzle, chew-chewing, nodding a little bit.
"So, you do have a summer? I'd heard you didn't." A pause, stretching her compact, well-muscled form, the reddish-brown patches of her fur glinting in the overhead light. "It is my favorite season."
"Mine is winter." An eye-smile and a nod. "It is simply ... shorter than most, our summer. While our winters are longer and fiercer. But the briskness is delightful to us. We are built to handle it." A breath. "But, yes, it can get breezily warm on my world. It just depends." A whisker-twitch. "But I rather fear the increased use of modern technology, accompanied with our growing population, poses a rising threat to the stability of our environment. It is something we are going to have to carefully address."
"I see," the jaguar said, quietly. A slight nod. "We have environmental issues here, as well. Ironic, in a way, considering we come from nature ... and are repaying it with such callous gratitude. As if we don't remember from whence we came. Our food, our resources ... it gives us everything. If we betray it, it will punish us."
A thoughtful nod. "Yes ... but nature does not act on its own. It does not have a soul. It is under God's paw, and God sustains us. Nature is part of His provision. And if it turns on us, it will be because we have turned on Him." A nose-sniffing breath. "But I am not a cynic. I have faith, and am hopeful we will make the right choices. I pray, anyhow, and do my best ... but I cannot control the actions of countless others."
"True. But you can hope to influence them." A tiny pause. "That is why, among other reasons, I wanted to be on the Council. To influence others for the better, and to assure a future for my species, and ... fellow predators. All furs," Astrid assured. "I love my home."
"I know the feeling," the snow rabbit told her, his bobtail flickering (unseen by her) behind his chair. "I miss my world. I am quite a distance from it, and I doubt I shall be called back anytime soon. But I knew I would be facing such a reality when I became an ambassador, so ... I do not complain. I, too, wanted to help my species. And public service became my goal. I enjoy working with others." He looked around the room, out the windows. It was dim, so not much could be seen. Other than city lights and departing/landing space-craft. "This world has its own charms. Though your cold regions are further toward the caps."
"The poles, we call them. And, yes, they are." Astrid paused. "I was born in the tropics. I love the heat."
An eye-smile. "Your emotions boil you ... and mine are frozen through. Perhaps I could cool you down, and you could thaw me a little," he suggested. "Perhaps the confluence of hot and cold ... "
" ... could make a perfect storm?" she finished for him, raising a brow, her angular, feline ears cocked atop her head. And her spotted tail snaking about lazily. There were about twenty other furs in the cafeteria, all chattering amongst themselves. It was never as busy in here during dinner as it was during lunch. A lot of furs went home for dinner. But, when you worked for the Council, you often worked long hours, so the cafeteria remained open most of the day.
"Perhaps." A nod, and he ate a few more bites of his meal, pausing briefly to ask, "Is my salad bothering you?"
"Mm?"
"You seem fixated on the fact that I am eating. We did come down here," he reminded, "for both food and conversation."
"I am not used ... " A sigh, and a pause. "Prey," she continued, trying to word it politely, "have certain eating habits that I am ... "
" ... uncomfortable with?"
" ... unused to," she offered.
A head-tilt, bringing another forkful of salad to his muzzle, sniffing it with his coal-colored nose. His bobtail flicked. "Elaborate."
"Well ... " The jaguar had a fork in her own paw, as well, and it poked at some spaghetti with meat sauce. Notable-sized meatballs mixed among the noodles and blood-red pasta (the color appealing to her predatory nature; she liked red). " ... you ... prey," she corrected, "tend to nibble. Tiny, bitsy little bites, so careful and meager. As if your food is some precious commodity that must be savored."
Chew-chewing on salad, the snow rabbit raised a brow, his antennae-like ears twiddling. And his whiskers giving a singular twitch. The background noises in the cafeteria sounded dim: the clinking of silverware on plates and bowls, the sorting of trays back in the kitchen. The whirring of the food processors.
"With predators, with us ... we guard our food ferociously. If someone touches it, we swipe at them."
"'Never touch a predator's plate,' is something I was taught as a child, yes." A pause, and an eye-smile. "And I believe the rest of it went, 'Or you'll get your paw bitten off'. Would you really bite off my paw if I touched your spaghetti?"
"Not all the way off," was the dark, joking response.
The snow rabbit wasn't sure how seriously to take that. He only tilted his head and said, "I shan't be touching it. You needn't worry."
"I hadn't planned on worrying. I am simply saying ... we eat our meals with gusto. Big bites, big chews. You eat with little bites and little chews. We both protect our food ... me with furtive glances, you with sniffs and twitches. We both eat as if we're afraid our food will be swiped away. I think we both eat," she said, "as if we're afraid food will stop coming."
"We are animals. You a hunter, me a gatherer. It is our instinct to fixate on food. Just as we fixate on breeding. Modern society has made it, however, less of a task to acquire food ... so, we no longer have to hunt or gather. But the instincts accompanying those actions remain, and go on display when we dine. I do not think either of us can help how we eat." A head-tilt. "I am well-versed in psychology," he explained.
"I see."
"And your next question will be, 'Are you psycho-analyzing me'?"
"I was not going to ask that," Astrid assured, shaking her head, her golden, slitted eyes looking to him.
"No?"
"No." She sat up straighter in her chair. "I was simply going to point out how prominent your buckteeth are."
" ... are they?" Russo went, opening his muzzle, putting his teeth on display. "Are they that big?"
"About as big a rodent's."
A mirthful, quiet eye-smile at that, closing his muzzle. "Mm. Big, then," he reasoned. "Still, what makes for good nibbling at meal-time ... makes for equally good nibbling, if not better nibbling," he reasoned, privately, "at bed-time."
"I'm sure it does," was all the jaguar could say, a bit hot beneath the fur. She hadn't bred with a fur who'd had buckteeth before. Most of her breeding had been done with fellow predators (felines, canines, foxes, fishers, a few birds of prey). As well as hoofed mammals (horses, moose, bulls). She hadn't actually done a rabbit. "I wouldn't know ... "
" ... well, I am giving you my assurance: it makes for erotic nibbling."
She had to take a deep breath at that, a bit flushed beneath the fur. "I do not nibble. I gnaw and tear and chew."
"I would hope you would restrict yourself to simple gnawing," the snow rabbit said, "when it comes to ... "
" ... yes," she said, interrupting. "I do restrict to gnawing. However, I do enjoy an occasional bite. A firm grip of the pelt with my teeth. And a rumbling purr. It makes the prey go all weak." A pause, licking her lips with her scratchy, pink tongue.
"So, you have bred with prey?" He felt his paws getting a bit sweaty.
"Some primates, prairie dogs. Never a rabbit or rodent," she assured.
"Primates and prairie dogs always struck me as casual believers," Russo responded, with a nod.
"They didn't need much convincing, no. But, then, as common knowledge has it ... neither do rabbits."
He had to tilt his head at that, giving her a nod. "Rabbits are connoisseurs of breeding. I can't make excuses for that. In the past ... " A sigh, putting his fork down and picking up his glass, which was filled halfway with chilled, white milk. He brought the glass to his lips, taking a sip. And then putting the glass down. " ... in the past," he whispered, "I behaved as my species is expected to." A light nod, and he looked intently at her. "Just as you behave as your species is expected to."
She said nothing to this. Just darted her eyes to the table.
"We both behaved, or still behave," he said, "like animals first. And sentient, soulful creatures ... second."
Astrid opened her muzzle to say something, but shut it.
"I could make excuses for my ... well, my history," the snow rabbit reasoned, slowly, thoughtfully. "My sex drive is rampant. Rabbits have the most-active sex drives among furry species. As a result, I ... how was I to do anything but behave like a rabbit? How could I escape my own biology, my own instinct? My need to breed?"
"We all need to breed," the jaguar whispered, somewhat hotly. "So, you need to do it five a day times ... and I need it three? How much of a difference does that make, ultimately?"
"It makes a difference," the snow rabbit assured, at a whisper. "You have greater refractory periods. Ours are shorter. Which means less time for a clear head ... we, as snow rabbits, especially, run on logic. But it's hard for logic to gain permanent traction when it's being buried every four, five hours ... by sheer instinct."
"My instinct is to be dominant. Is to hunt. Is to kill. That has nothing to do with breeding, and yet it occupies my mind ... a good deal of the time. You have to split yourself between logic and breeding? Well, I have to split myself between bloodlust and breeding, and I can assure you," the jaguar said, with passion in her tone, "that what I have to feel every hour of every day ... is more," she argued, "taxing than whatever it is you feel. Because you have an emotional freeze." A shaky pause. "I do not," she whispered, barely audible, her eyes suddenly vulnerable. "I don't ... "
Russo remained quiet, biting his lip a bit. He swallowed, eyes flooded with concern. He hesitated for a moment. And then slowly slid a paw across the tabletop, closer to one of her own.
Breasts rising and falling, the jaguar closed her eyes. And inched her paw closer to his, allowing him to take it. And the flowers in the clear, glass vase in the center of the table seemed to smell more fragrant than she'd previously noticed.
He held to her paw, then, and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I am sorry," he offered. "I did not mean ... " A pause, licking his dry lips. " ... I did not mean to ... "
" ... it's alright," she said, clearing her throat. Part of her wanted to pull her paw away. But she couldn't will herself to do it. It felt nice. To have it held. To have his soft, furry fingers entwined with hers. It felt meaningful. And she'd never been touched in a truly meaningful way before.
"I studied psychology in school, but ... what one studies in a classroom, what one absorbs academically, is never quite congruous with what one encounters 'in the field.' What one encounters in reality." A pause, squeezing her paw a bit more firmly. "We all have a lot to deal with. Each of us ... our own burdens," he whispered, "our own struggles. We all walk a fine line between civility and sheer animalism. We're all trying to keep our balance."
"I am afraid ... " Her voice shook a bit. " ... I am afraid I am going to fall toward the side of animalism. That I will become feral." She had seen so many of her colleagues succumb to that. Sylvan, when he'd killed Deering's predecessor, him and the others dining on that mouse. Eating sentient meat. "I do not wish to become feral," she repeated, more desperately. "I do not want to lose my mind."
"You will not."
"How do you know?"
"Because I will not let you." A squeeze with his paw.
Astrid met his eyes, and then pulled her paw away. Almost daintily. And she fiddled with a napkin, looking down at her plate. "Could you kiss and suck a muzzle," she whispered, "that loves meat?"
"You need to eat it. You have no choice. You are a carnivore."
"But ... "
" ... there are things such as breath mints and toothbrushes." An eye-smile. "You are a predator, and I'm not asking you be anything less than that. Just as I would hope you would not ask me to be anything less than prey."
"I wouldn't." A pause. "I do not eat sentient meat," she assured him. "I am not a murderer. I ... only eat feral creatures."
"I know," he whispered. "I believe you."
Astrid sighed through her nose. "But I know predators who have ... who do," she corrected, "kill sentient prey. And feel no qualms." A swallow. "The predators on this Council," she confessed, very quietly, "get away with many things, and ... " An exhale. " ... though the prey would never admit it, the predators still have more power. And, at times, they abuse it. I am not saying that prey are better. I, myself, am a predator, and I am proud of that." She looked to the tablecloth, and then to the flower vase, and then back to him. "But prey often use their weaknesses, their anxieties ... as excuses," she breathed. "Predators could never get away with that. We have such heightened expectations placed upon us."
"When are you physically stronger, with dominant personalities, that will be the case."
"I feel that prey, though, are allowed to be themselves. Be individuals. And us, as predators? We're urged, by the culture, to be ... generic. To follow a mold. To treat our emotions as frivolous. To put up fronts." A shake of her head. And she closed her eyes. "I am sorry to get on that topic."
"It is a necessary topic to debate," he said, quietly.
"Not right now. Not between you and me." She opened her eyes. "Politics are best left for working hours. And work is over," she breathed, "for today. Is it not?"
"Yes," he agreed, nodding.
"I keep thinking ... " She looked around, taking a breath. "I just ... what if I hurt you? By accident? What if I get too rough?" She closed her eyes. "I mean, if we were to ... " She trailed.
The snow rabbit nodded, understanding. "You have bred with countless furs before, by your own admittance. Have you ever hurt them?"
"No."
"Then why are you worried?"
"Because I never ... had feelings," she whispered, "for them. I never loved them. I never needed to worry about their fates, because I didn't care about them. Not really. But, with you ... I care," she whispered, "about you." She was afraid he was going to make fun of her for that. And, anticipating this, she flinched.
"I care about you, as well," was his calm, soothing reply.
And, relaxing a bit, she looked to him.
He gave her a reassuring eye-smile. And he added, to lighten the mood, "I did not mean to imply, during the course of our conversation, that I found my over-active sex drive to be a burden. Though it can be, at times, it is usually ... something I embrace," he breathed. "I do love sex," he told her, barely audible, pupils dilated.
"I did not," she replied, "for one moment ... think you didn't."
"Mm." An eye-smile. "I just didn't want you to get the wrong impression ... as taxing as instinct can be on one's sense of civility, one's logic ... as taxing," he breathed, shifting in his chair, "it can be, more so, most delicious. Most exceedingly," he confided, "satisfying."
"Indeed." A swallow. "I quite enjoy it, as well. Breeding, I mean. Just so you know ... I find pleasure," she told him, "to be a most welcome sensation."
" ... I am glad to hear it. Though I gathered that you did."
"So, if, say ... I were to mate a rabbit," she posed playfully, not using his name or his species. But they both knew she was talking about him. "If I were to mate a rabbit, would I be able to sate him?" Beneath the table, one of her bare foot-paws slid forward, sliding, bumping delicately into one of his. Her foot-paws bigger, but his longer. His built for hopping and loping. Hers built for batting, for brute force. And her fully-clawed toes grazed the top of his foot-paw, down, down to his blunt-clawed toes. "Would I be able," she repeated, breathily, "to sate him? Would he enjoy ... " Her toes slid up his furry ankle, a few inches up leg. " ... having me?"
"You ... you would be able to sate him," was the very quiet, flustered response. "And he ... " A swallow, and a clearing of his throat. " ... he, hopefully, would be able to sate you, and ... " There eyes met. " ... he would enjoy," was the assurance, "having you." A swallow, forehead-fur a bit damp.
"You are getting hot."
A weak nod. "I just need some water. My species, we ... dehydrate easily. I need twice as much fluid, daily, as you do."
"I see ... so, I make you thirsty?" she posed, elbows on the table, teeth showing. A feline grin, and a smooth, sultry purr, enjoying the playful banter. "Mm. Mm ... Russo," she whispered.
"Yes?" His eyes widened, bobtail flickering.
But, before he could answer, a new scent, a new voice, seemingly having sneaked up out of nowhere, interrupted, "Well, isn't this romantic?" The word 'romantic' was said with notable disdain.
"Sylvan," said Astrid, her angular ears flattening atop her head in cat fashion. A low, throaty hiss, annoyed as much at him as herself. She hadn't heard him coming. Hadn't sniffed his approach. She was a predator, and she'd been pounced like this? She was furious with herself.
"Don't worry, kitten," the cougar, standing, looking down at her. "You were too busy thinking about your new snuggle-bunny. I understand." But his eyes betrayed that, no, he didn't understand. Or more to the point: he didn't accept it.
"I am not a bunny," Russo said quietly, tersely. 'Bunny,' to many rabbits, was considered a controversial term. Maybe to be used in private, behind closed doors, between fellow rabbits or between lovers, but if a stranger or a non-rabbit called you a bunny? That was extremely offensive.
Sylvan ignored the snow rabbit, all attention on Astrid. "Who is seducing who, I wonder, at this table?"
"We are having dinner," was all Astrid said, nodding at her half-eaten spaghetti.
"I am not," Russo repeated, "a bunny." His bobtail flicked with restrained, frozen aggravation. He licked his dry lips.
"I've long had the suspicion," the cougar told the jaguar, eyes squinting, claws digging into the edge of the table, "that you would be tripped up ... at some point." A huff of breath. "But I was hoping I would be wrong. You were supposed to breed, manipulate, use this bunny ... and then end it. You weren't supposed to do more than ... "
... WHAM!
The cougar, with a 'rowrl!' and a 'hsss!' went flying, landing on his side on the carpeted floor with an audible 'oomph.' Quieting everyone in the cafeteria. Squeaks and yips of alarm from observers, who all stopped eating and stared.
Astrid's head spun, and she looked to Russo, who was standing, flexing one of his legs, one of his strong, rabbit foot-paws. "Do not call me 'bunny'," he told Sylvan again, giving a worked-up mew. "And do not think that, because I am prey, I am weak. I will kick you again."
Shaking with rage, giving a 'mrowl,' the cougar pushed himself back up, up to his foot-paws. And he smoothed at his clothes, narrowing his eyes. "That was," he breathed, to Russo, "unwise. You may have excellent leg-strength. You may be able to kick. But I ... " With nary a sound, the cougar's sharp, black claws emerged fully from their pads. " ... I can draw blood. And my bloodlust is such that, even a sniff of red staining that blindingly-white pelt of yours? You'll wish you hadn't struck me."
Russo, heart hammering, took a backward step. He had his emotional freeze, of course. But he was still prey. He was still designed to fear predators. And his heart racing, his eyes darting, he took yet another step back.
"That's it ... you're prey. Back down. Apologize."
A steely shake of the head. And a brave, shaky, "I will kick you again." His whiskers quivered with repressed fear.
"Try it, and that foot-paw will have five nice, bloody gashes through it." The cougar readied his paws. And Sylvan, looking around the cafeteria, hissed, "Anyone calls security, and they'll deal with me ... this is a private matter."
"It is, indeed," Astrid said, getting out of her chair, "private. And, as you have chosen to make it personal ... " The jaguar, squinting heavily, put herself between the cougar and snow rabbit. "To get to him, you will have to get through me." Her tail snaked, and her compact, muscular form tensed. A throaty growl.
"Get out," Sylvan enunciated, with clenched, sharp teeth, "of the way."
"You know I can fight you."
"You are a femme. I'm stronger. You would lose."
"True," she breathed. "But I would hurt you pretty good, wouldn't I? Enough to weaken you. And then, while you're down and bleeding, Russo would deliver the final kicks. Right to the muzzle. Break your jaw into pieces," Astrid hissed. "And when you're knocked out and when security comes ... you'll wake in hot, searing pain in the brig. And tomorrow's headlines will be, 'Feline Representative Dominated By Rabbit.' How would that go down with our fellow predators? Hmm?"
The cougar growled.
"You're outnumbered. Two to one. It is you," Astrid breathed, "who will lose."
A shake of the head, paws clenching, muscles tensing. And the cougar, tawny fur rising and falling, glared at Russo and then at Astrid. "Very well," he whispered, voice quiet and dangerous. "Very well. As I told you before, Astrid: you are not my enemy. You are a feline. If you were any other species, I would kill you where you stand ... but while I can't hurt you physically, I can," he promised, "hurt you in other ways."
Astrid squinted, angular ears cocked.
"I am removing," the cougar breathed, "you ... removing you," he panted, "from your seat on the Council. I am replacing you."
"You can't ... "
" ... do that? Not on my own, no. But with my fellow predators behind me? We can make it happen. You know that."
The jaguar drooped, looking devastated. "Sylvan," she whispered.
"I need a colleague who is working for our interests. You have compromised yourself ... and for that," he breathed, "I am sorry. I was ... " He looked her over. " ... fond of you, at times. You tasted sweet."
She glared at him, quivering with a mixture of emotions.
"Your access to the governmental facilities will be revoked. You will be ... "
" ... pardon me," Russo interrupted, very calmly, very logically. Having re-composed himself after his face-off with the cougar.
Sylvan turned to look at the snow rabbit.
"I am new here, as you know. I am the High Command's ambassador to the Furry Federation. But I have no staff. I have no fellow ambassadors ... I could use," he said, looking to Astrid, "a full-time assistant. A secretary, if you will?"
"You can't do that," Sylvan blurted.
"You ... would offer me a job in your office?" Astrid breathed, looking to the snow rabbit.
"There is much to do in matters of diplomacy. Many lives to influence," he told her, quietly, "for the better. I could use some help."
The jaguar smiled. Not a toothy, predatory grin, but an actual, guise-free smile. "I accept. Thank you," she breathed.
A head-tilt from the snow rabbit, eye-smiling back at her.
Sylvan just shook his head. "Be sure," he said, jabbing a clawed paw at Astrid's chest, "you do not run into me in the hallways. Because the encounter will not go well. And you," he said, head turning to the snow rabbit, "are in over your ears. Mark my words." And, shaking his head again, he cursed, "Damn you both." What most upset him, as he stalked away, was being bested in public. Being dominated, beaten in front of an audience. He was a male predator, a male cat. And to be one-upped like that? Was absolutely humiliating. His ego was, suffice it to say, sufficiently bruised. And he was going to hold a grudge against those two. No mistake about that. He was not going to forget this.
With the cougar gone, the furs in the room resumed to their chattering. Most of them chattering about what had just happened, of course! Rumors of this would be flying around the facility within the hour.
And Astrid, still standing, looked to Russo. The snow rabbit still standing, as well. "I, uh ... I cannot thank you ... " She trailed. " ... that is a most gracious thing you just did. No one has ever been so kind," she breathed, "to me."
"I am sure they have."
The jaguar just shook her head.
It is no problem." A genuine eye-smile, and a bit of a pause. "I need an assistant, but ... " He trailed.
" ... yes?"
" ... I also need a mate."
"As do I," she responded, with a grin. Feeling, for the first time in a long time, truly hopeful. And happy, as well.
"Then let us go to my new office. And we shall discuss the details. Also ... "
" ... yes?"
A dry swallow. "I am in desperate need of ice water."
A happy purr. "Then let us get some."