FSE

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The earth was alive, today!

Rhythmic and pulsing, finally freed from the long, hard winter. The bitter cold? The heavy, oppressive snow? The ice? All of it was a melted memory, now, eclipsed by brightness and warmth. And color. Such color.

Daffodil yellows.

Emerald, leafy greens and verdant, powdery blues.

And in the backyard, honey-gold and candy pink.

"Ah, ah ... ah-CHOO!" The harvest mouse sniffled, rubbing at his twitchy, whiskery nose. "Ugh."

"You should take an anti-histamine."

"I did." Another sniffle. "I have been," he insisted, clearing his throat and gripping a spade. "They get worse every year," he complained, of his allergies. He resumed digging the hole he'd been working on. He'd started it with a shovel, of course, but it needed a little finesse. Dirt flew. Just a few more inches!

The bubblegum-pink bat stood beside him in a simple, flattering sundress, the straps lazily clinging to her shoulders. She had a glass in one wing-tip. Some sweet beverage. "Missed a spot," she teased.

He paused and gave her a look.

"What?"

"This is going to be worth it."

"I didn't say it wasn't."

"Almost done." The mouse's ropy, pink tail snaked through the recently-mown grass, chest flexing beneath his bare, butterscotch pelt. It was warm. Sunny. As he often did when such was the case, he'd forgone a shirt. They lived way out in the countryside. What difference did it make? Just blue jeans and even bluer boxer-briefs, the hem of which was peeking out above his pants' sagging waistline.

"You forgot your belt," she observed, plum-purple eyes glimmering. She sipped from her drink and licked her lips with that long, wily tongue. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Yeah. Well ... " Field paused to wipe at his nose. The allergies were always worst in the morning. He'd feel better after lunch. Which they were going to have as soon as he was finished here.

"Is that why you were up half the night? Your nose?" Adelaide prodded. "You woke me up with your wriggling." Which meant he must've been very restless, indeed! Because she was a much heavier sleeper than him. It took a lot to stir her from a deep slumber. Field had once claimed to put an ice cube on her foot-paws and failed to wake her.

"Sorry about that," he said, quietly.

"It's okay." The breeze swirled, suddenly, and her dress fluttered up.

"But it wasn't that." The mouse, side-glancing, caught a flash of her white, silky panties. "It was, uh ... " He shook his head. Focus. "The moon, actually." He reached aside for the young fruit tree laying between them. A year old. Raised in a nursery. And ready, finally, to be planted. He positioned it perfectly. "Can you hold this upright while I push the dirt back in the hole?" he asked his mate.

Adelaide nodded, setting her drink on a stable patch of grass, wing-arm and big, grippy thumb reaching to hold the tree in place.

Field used both paws to shovel the dirt around the base, packing it in as tightly as he could. "But, yeah, the moon? It was fuller than full. Bright and orange to start, then creamy white. Like a spotlight." Would've been beautiful if he hadn't been so tired. He patted the dirt down, then wiped the back of his forehead with his forearm. "Whew." He sweated very easily. "It was streaming through the windows, even with the curtains down. Was driving me crazy."

"I didn't notice." She pulled back from the tree, testing its strength. It stood upright on its own. "But, then, bats and moons go way back. Or didn't you know?"

"I know everything about bats," the mouse insisted, proudly.

"That so?" She smirked.

"Yes, and don't make me elaborate on that, or we'll end up rolling around in the grass here. And then my eyes will be all puffy and red."

"And so would your ears," she breathed.

He swallowed, giving a sheepish smile. "True enough."

Adelaide giggled. "So, you're done? We can go back inside? We gotta eat lunch, then get going. I'd rather not be there for more than an hour or two." They were going to the library in the nearest small town. Adelaide worked there. It was a Sunday, and the place was closed, but she'd agreed to put in some extra time to help prepare for the big 'Spring Cleaning' book sale in a few weeks. And she wanted Field to come with her.

"Yup. That was it." He paused as his sidewinding tail hit her glass. "Is that ... pink lemonade?"

"Mm-hmm. Want some?"

"Is that a trick question?" Or an innuendo?

"Go on," she said, gesturing with a wing.

"Thanks." He was thirsty. He coiled his tail around the glass, as tightly as he could, and lifted it. Slowly, carefully. It sloshed and spilled a bit. Harvest mouses were the only mouse species to have prehensile tails. That didn't mean they had the strength or dexterity of an outright paw, but ...

"Show off," she accused, lightly.

"You know you think it's cute." Paws taking the glass from his tail, he took a sip. Then a swig of lemonade.

The bat looked around the yard. There was their cozy, little house, of course, and a few sheds. An outdoor storm cellar. A garden. Tall oaks and maples. Beyond it were pastures, alfalfa fields. Patches of woods. There was another house diagonal to theirs, just outside shouting distance. And yet another a quarter-mile down the road. But they definitely had privacy. "So, what varieties did you plant again? I like tart apples," she said.

"I know." His face puckered up, smacking his lips. "You need more sugar in this lemonade." He returned her glass.

"Didn't stop you from polishing it off," she said, turning the glass upside down. It was empty.

He just smiled and took a deep breath, explaining, "I planted you a Pink Lady." He could barely eat those things, himself. The acid made his teeth hurt. But Adelaide liked them. And, well, the name was quite fitting.

"Aw ... "

"I like sweet, so I planted myself a Mutsu. A Kindercrisp, which is a new Honeycrisp cross. That's sweet-tart. Then there's a Golden Delicious to enable cross-pollination." Four trees in all. They'd been twenty bucks each.

"I thought apples trees pollinated themselves."

The mouse grabbed his spade and stood up. "A few can. Most need pollen from another 'like' tree. That's why you should never plant just one. You gotta have partners for it. Now, this Mutsu here is a triploid, which means it can't pollinate anything. Goldens, though ... " He pointed at one of the other freshly-planted trees. "They're universal and self-pollinators. The bees, here," he said, ducking his head as one buzzed past his ear, "are the facilitators. They'll spread pollen from one tree to another."

"The more you know!" she quipped. "Sounds salaciously sexual." It was all go in nature, wasn't it?

"Um ... I guess. Kinda." The mouse's whiskers twitched, shyly.

"So, Golden Delicious is the 'herm' of the apple world, then?"

"I don't know if I'd go that far ... "

"You're golden, mousey." She bumped up against him, wrapping her wing-arms around his exposed, furry back.

"Yeah? And?" He touched his muzzle to her snout. I mean, obviously, gold is the best color! But, still, he wasn't sure what she was getting at. "You calling me a herm?"

"You're masculine enough, but you have some undeniably effeminate flourishes," was her diplomatic response. While she was straight, he was bisexual. "It's a delicious combination."

Dimples appeared on his warm, butterscotch cheeks. He hugged her back.

"And you taste sweet," she whispered. "I know this because I've ... "

"Adelaide," he mumbled.

" ... you. So, maybe, when these trees are grown, we can play Adam and Eve beneath them during a full moon?" she pressed, undeterred by his rising bashfulness. It only fueled her fire. The more flustered he got, the more she wanted to fluster him, and the more she did? The more he wanted her to. It was a scintillatingly sensual circle. "I mean, since you aren't gonna be able to fall asleep and all ... "

"Right, right." He exhaled, hotly. "Yeah. That'd be nice," he hazily agreed. "If I hadn't planted them within view of the road."

"Who's gonna come down a rural road on a summer midnight?" she asked, fangs grazing his neck.

"I, uh ... d-don't know. Mockingbirds, maybe? They'll repeat anything they hear," he insisted with a squeaky shiver. "They might spy on us and memorize our sounds and then sing them outside the neighbors' windows."

"Let them." She tilted her head, pressing her lips to his.

The mouse, paws bunching up the skirt of her dress, kissed the bat. So pink and pretty. So toothy. Confident and playful. My everything. His fingers found the violet bow she normally wore around her tail base. He fiddled with the ribbons, then allowed his fingers to wrap around her short, rudder-y appendage.

"Mm." A twist and a smack. As she pulled back, saliva stringing. She severed it with her tongue.

The mouse, ears pinker and redder than they'd been a few moments ago, released her. "Mm. Um, anyway ... " He almost rubbed his paws against himself in a shy, idle gesture, and then realized they were caked in dirt. So, he just bit his lower lip instead, thoughts sprouting from the seeds she'd planted in his head.

It was always exhilarating to make love outdoors, in nature. As was intended. As their feral ancestors did. And when you lived in the middle of nowhere, you had the freedom to do just that! Such a freeing, wild rush.

"We, uh ... we don't have to wait until summer, you know," the male eventually decided.

"Oh, I hadn't planned on it." A wink. "For your sake, though, we'll at least wait until the pollen dies down."

He took a deep breath. Just as well.

Adelaide began walking back to the house.

Field, after a blank pause, scurried after her.

"So, when are we gonna have apples? A year? Two?" she asked.

"Two to five years is when the first fruit appears. After five is when you approach fuller yields." And that assumed you kept up with the regimen of pruning, spraying, and general maintenance.

"What?" A frown. "You mean we have to wait that long?"

"Trees have long lives, Adelaide. These'll last us, like, thirty years! All that fruit. And I've gotten varieties that are staggered, so late-August, mid-September, late-October. As soon as we eat all of one, another will be ready." Besides, he worked at an apple orchard. So, it wasn't like he didn't have access to fresh apples. But it would be nice to supplement that with their own supply. It would allow him to make a lot more sauce to last them through the winter and spring.

"What a smart mouse you are," she cooed, playfully. She wrapped her thumb and wing-tip around his fingers, and they walked paw-in-wing. "You know, think this is the first time I've seen you with dirty paws!"

"It is not. And they're not dirty," the fastidious mouse insisted. He was a bit of a clean freak. "I, uh, just didn't want to ruin my new gloves."

"Messy mouse," she razzed.

"You wish," he replied.

"Don't tempt me, Field," she warned, as they walked up the steps and onto their porch. She opened the screen door and gestured 'you first' with a wing-arm.

He gave her a suspicious look. Then went inside.

And she goosed him.

Squeak!

"So, where's Ketchy?" Field asked, again, of Adelaide's co-worker and best friend. It was an hour or so later, and they were at the small town library. Alone. The place was quiet, as libraries tended to be. Occasionally, a car could be heard going past the front doors on Main Street.

"I told you. She and Kody had some family reunion thing to go to. On his side." The squirrel was mated to a rascally rabbit. When Adelaide hung out with Ketchy, Kody would sometimes tag along to hang out with Field. The mouse was never sure what to say or do. He and Kody had nothing in common. Except sports. So, they'd watch and talk about that. Which was nice, actually, because Adelaide wasn't big on sports, herself. Except auto racing, and even then only casually.

"Oh. Right." A pause. "Am I getting paid for this?"

"I clocked you in. You saw me."

"Just being sure." The harvest mouse wandered about. "Why are the computers still on?"

"They like to leave them in sleep mode."

"Why not just turn them off?"

"I don't know." The bat shrugged. "Because?"

"Mm."

"Don't complain, Field."

"I'm not!"

"We just have to go through the older books and sort them for the big sale in a few weeks." Ten cents to five dollars! Gently used! The money would go to purchase newer books, among other things. "There's no race, today. Not like you have anything else to do."

"No, no race," he echoed, lamely. Weekends without Indy Car races were the worst! Thankfully, May was just around the corner, and with it the 500. Way better than Christmas! "But there's basketball games."

"Then turn on the radio. There's one on the checkout desk."

He considered and shook his head. "No, that's okay." He didn't think she'd appreciate that, even though she was offering it. And, besides, none of his teams were playing today.

"Now, come here." She waited for him and then gestured about. "All these boxes are full of old books," she began explaining. "But we don't want to sell them all. Only the ones that are really outdated or dinged up. The better ones we'll save." For future sales or to put back on the shelves. Or even to trade, somehow. "You might wanna check the stamps to see when they were last checked out, too. If it's been, like, five years? Then we can probably let it go." Adelaide looked through a few books, distractedly, moving them from full to empty boxes. "If you find any you want, let me know. I'll set them aside to buy. I get first dibs."

"Hmm. None of these really interest me." He began sorting. "Mulch Ado About Nothing. A whole book about mulch?" he asked. He opened it, making a face. "It's two hundred pages!"

"It's a library, Field. There are books about everything here."

"Everything?"

"You name it, I can find it for you. I've worked here for as long as you've worked at the orchard." She dug through a box and grinned. "Here's one. Right up your alley."

"Mm?"

She tossed it to him.

He caught it and blinked. It was hardcover. His ears went rosy-pink! Mysteries of the Female Orgasm. "W-what ... what's this doing in a public library?"

"Collecting dust. No one's checked it out in years. Sadly, the internet has made sex books practically obsolete." She shook her head. A shame! "It's yours if you want it." She winked. "Just put it in our pile."

"I, uh, know all I need to know about the ... well, about. That." He peeked between the pages. "Oh, my ... "

"Saying you don't need instructions?"

"Huh? Um. Well?" he asked, looking up at her. "I mean, don't I do a good job for ... er, on ... uh, with you?" She'd never complained before.

"Mm-h, you do wonders, Field," she assured, heat rising in her bosom.

He smiled, shyly.

"I wasn't implying you didn't! Just thought it might give you some new ideas. Inspiration never hurts."

"Mm." His whiskers twitched. "I do tend to be a tad vanilla. Or butterscotch," he admitted. "I guess I could stand to spice it up ... "

"You're just very submissive. You require nudging," she told him, knowingly. "Consider that book a nudge." It was just as well, though. She was a dominant personality and needed a male she could mold. And Field was like putty in her wings. She lapped up his shyness like honey.

He cleared his throat, feeling noticeably hotter. "Can I open a window? Or something? It's getting stuffy in here."

"Is it?" she teased.

"Yeah ... "

"I hadn't noticed."

"Well, it is."

"You'll just let more pollen in. Adjust the central air. But don't set it too cold! I don't wanna get scolded for running up the electric bill."

"Then maybe you should tell them to turn off those computers." The mouse wandered to the thermostat, bringing 'Mysteries of the Female Orgasm' with him. He couldn't resist peeking a little more. And, when he did, his blue-grey eyes boggled. I can't do that with my tongue! Maybe if I was an anteater or an aardvark. He exhaled, hotly, setting the temperature a few degrees cooler and wandering back. Thumbing through pages, he bumped into a chair. "Ouch!"

"Careful," she said, lightly.

He just nodded. A chapter on 'female empowerment' ... with a bunch of female-on-top positions! His favorite. He gulped and closed the feminine tome, discreetly setting it in Adelaide's 'to buy' pile.

The bat smirked but said nothing.

Field, cooling down a bit, dug into a box of paperbacks. Checked them from cover to cover. Glanced at the stamp dates. Then transferred them to the 'Sale' bins. Or not. One after another. Now and then, something would catch his interest, and he'd turn to the bat. "Don't you like these?"

Adelaide craned her head. "Hmm?"

"Mysteries?"

"Yeah. Why? Which one is it?"

"Um ... Double Fudge Brownie Murder?"

"I've got that one."

"Right." She had several shelves full of mystery books. He couldn't keep track. He nodded and put it in the 'No Sale' bin. It was in fairly good shape and had been checked out last year. "I really can't believe there's a whole genre devoted to food-related murder mysteries. That's, like ... so kinky! Like a fetish or something."

"It's not a fetish. It's a niche," she defended. "They're very entertaining. And they make you hungry."

He found another one. And laughed, squeakily. "Heh ... Assault and Pepper? Seriously?"

"Oh, I've not seen that one. Gimme!"

He gave it to her. It had a torn back cover, so she added it to their personal pile.

"That's even worse than my cheesy puns," he said, finding a few more. "Licence to Dill? Butter Off Dead?" The mouse began laughing hysterically. "Hah ... heh. These are ... ridiculous ... " He giggle-squeaked and shuffled back to a chair, plopping down before he fell over from laughter.

"That's why they're so fun," she insisted, grinning at her mate's reaction.

Taking a few deep, stabilizing breaths, Field shook his head. "Mm. Heh. I don't know."

"A little 'silly' can be healthy."

"I don't deny that. I'd just rather watch a sitcom or something." Even if it was only in the background while doing other things.

"Nothing wrong with that." She nodded. They had some favorite shows they watched together. "I honestly didn't used to read much until I began working here."

"Yeah. I guess I didn't eat much fruit 'til I started at the orchard, myself," he admitted.

They continued sorting.

An hour passed.

She tossed him another book.

"What's this?"

"Read the title."

"Mrs. Mouse and Mr. Bat: An Inter-species Love. Aw!" He beamed. "Really?"

"You didn't think we were the first such pair in the world, did you?"

"No, but we're rare enough. You have to admit." Though there were plenty of mouses in Indiana, and a decent smattering of bats, he'd yet to meet another mouse/bat couple aside from him and Adelaide. But, then, it's not like I get out of the countryside very often, do I? Except on daytrips. The demographics in the cities are probably way different than out here.

"Rare is unique and unique is special," she observed, wisely. "I don't need to see other couples like us to feel comfortable."

"Well, neither do I," he insisted. "Just saying ... " He took a breath and opened the book, browsing through the caricature-like drawings, splashed with watercolors. A smile appeared on his whiskery muzzle. The bat had the blue fur typical of male bats. The female mouse was plain-brown. A house mouse, probably. He turned a page. "It's sweet." A pause. "Wrong genders, though. Compared to us. And, uh, way too chaste! This is a book about love? All they do is look at each other and smile." The characters were dressed to the nines. Was their life one big fancy party?

"It's a forty year-old children's book, Field. Besides, the message is good." Diversity and all that.

"True." He put it down, thoughts drifting. Forty years. That's a long time, isn't it? And what about forty years from now? He and Adelaide would be seventy years old with grey fur. Their lives nearer to over than not. The thought made him sad. And anxious. But happy at the same time. To imagine that many years of being together? By that time, they'd be able to fill a whole library with the stories of their love.

"Well!" Adelaide sauntered over to Field. "I'm done with my boxes."

"Mm? Oh." He put the storybook aside, weakly clearing his throat. "Already?"

"You need more time?" She blinked.

"No, I'm pretty much done, too," he mumbled. He gave her a vulnerable look. "Um. So. How much do you normally make on these sales?"

"Five hundred bucks, maybe." She caressed his sides with her wing-arms, tenderly. Speaking in a soothing, gentle tone. "Doesn't sound like a lot, but ... you know, every bit helps." She hugged him, wing-arms like velvety blankets. They covered him all up.

He hugged back and sighed.

The bat, tilting her muzzle upward, blew hot breaths into his big, dishy ears.

"Ah." A shiver up his spine, making him arch. Sensitive lobes were sensitive! "What ... what are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Doesn't feel like nothing. It feels like ... wait, are you? You're ... " He lowered his voice. "Aroused?"

"You can say horny, Field."

"You are, aren't you?"

"Horny? Mm-h. That a problem?"

"It's ... I mean ... "

"You don't have to whisper. Speak up. It's just us." She chittered, lowly. "Besides, we did it in the old library, remember?" Years ago. In the kitchenette. On the table. "Haven't done it in this one yet. Don't know when we'll get another chance."

"Do you have a sexual Bingo sheet for public places?" He remembered, a few years ago, they had sex in a restaurant booth right before closing time. The old library, too, yeah. And now this? It was a pattern!

"Ketchy and Kody have done it in here," the bat insisted, not denying it.

"So, it is a game! And you and Ketchy are keeping score." His head spun. He sputtered. "What places do you still need? The grocery store? The movie theater? Oh, wait, what about the gas station?"

"You're just being ridiculous, now," she cooed, unbuckling his belt. "Though the movie theater might work. Afternoon matinee." She could see it, now ...

"Seriously?"

A giggle. "We've never been caught. And you enjoy it every time. You know you do. You're just too old-fashioned to admit it."

"I don't think that's the ... " His jeans were unbuttoned. "Point!" he squeaked.

"The point is: I'm offering you pussy and you're hesitating to take it."

The mouse opened his muzzle to object. Then shut it.

"You don't want to miss out, do you?" she insisted. She stuck out her long, dexterous tongue. Lapping at those ears. Breathing into them, again. Whispering, huskily, as she worked his pants down. "You really gonna turn down your mate?" She licked his ear-rims. And rubbed at his sheath through his underwear.

He found himself shaking his head, dumbly. "No ... " He wasn't. Couldn't? Can't. Cause penis. Wait, what? Was there a question, here?

"There's a good boy." She rubbed at his sheath through his underwear. Until she could feel it plumping, until his tip began to crown. "Now, let's get away from these windows. There are some desks in the back corner." The bat turned and padded away, sauntering her hips and shaking her little tail. The epitome of feminine wiles.

He followed obediently, in a pink haze.

Finding an empty study table, she swept a wing-arm across the surface. "Up, up," she chittered. "Lay across the middle."

"Is this table sturdy enough to support our mutual body weight?" he asked.

"Do I need to rub your cock again to turn your brain back off? I said up, mousey."

"R-right," he stammered, shivering at her authority. Ears burning with blood. Heaving for breath, he raised his arms. Shirt over and off, casually tossed. He stepped out of his pants, one leg at a time, and then set on the end of the table. Naked as anything. Whiskers twitching, tail wavering. Even his erection bobbled with his pulse.

"So much energy! Mm, what a golden treat you are," she murred, approvingly, drinking him in with her dilated, purple eyes.

He suddenly remembered they were still on the clock. And thought maybe he should mention it. But, well, they were technically hard at work. Right? He glanced down. Um. I am, at least ...

The bat flowed forward, directly in front of him.

He hooked his legs around her hips in a very feminine gesture.

This thrilled her, and she wormed her tongue into his mouth, pushing him back. Writhing out of her own clothes. Field helping her. He undid her bra. Pulled at her panties. They were both huffing and caressing. Combing, clutching fur. The passion between them hot enough to start a fire.

Wriggling back a bit, the mouse found himself staring at the shadowy ceiling. And, soon, her pink, fanged face. Those sweeping, sonar-ready ears. She looked down at him, breasts jiggling freely with gravity.

He reached up to squeeze them, feel them. So beautiful. He could feel her heartbeat.

Adelaide, straddling him on shins and knees in the middle of the wooden table, began grinding her furry loins to his. "I'm so wet," she murmured.

He didn't need to be told that. He felt it. Smelled it. Her familiar, batty scent, hardwired into his brain after all these years, had him drooling like a Pavlovian dog. More. He wanted more. Wanted wetter, hotter!

"Want your cock," she continued, shifting her hips.

"I wanna!" He angled for her.

"Wanna what, mousey?" A wing-tip caressed his cheek. "Tell me ... "

"Fuck you," he mouthed back, bluntly. "My ... mm-h, my bat ... " He could barely control his breathing.

"Mm-h. Mm ... do it, then. Go on ... "

Bumps and fumbles.

Hip-checks and mumbles.

And they successfully met in the middle, the mouse arching, thrusting forth. Slipping up, up, and in, yes, into her slick, silky passage! Large rodent balls slapping, snugging at her pouty, puffy vulva.

The bat gave an airy 'squee!' of delight at being filled and stretched by her mate. All of him. Every inch. It was hers! But it wasn't enough. She craved the electric friction that came with it. And, so, she began to rise. And fall. And rise and fall and rise and ...

"Ah ... ah ... " Field's blue eyes screwed shut as Adelaide bounced on him. As she rode him with increasingly forceful abandon. He found himself reaching for her, blindly. He had her body memorized. Every curve, every stretch of vibrant, berry-pink fur. Those glorious, ethereal wings. The bony struts and the velvety membranes. Her supple, lovely breasts. That curvy, short-tailed rump. His paws were all over her.

She fed off his attention and the feeling of his shaft rubbing against her walls, her most private places. And rode him cowgirl, alternating between slow and quick motions, throwing in a few grinding, hilted gyrations. Rubbing at her clitoris now and then. Oh, like that! That's it! Her jungle-hot juices trickled down into his sac-fur.

Field opened his eyes, again. To watch the expressions on her face. The jostling of her breasts. He reached up to tweak her nipples to test their hardness. And, oh, were they hard.

As they went, everything blurred.

Feeling replaced thought.

They simply bred.

Field was so lost in the act, in the total, forbidden rush of having sex in the middle of the town library, that he didn't realize he was nearing orgasm until his muscles suddenly seized up, his breaths became sharp and shallow, and all the tension, and, "I'm ... oh, oh ... OH!" he whined, pitifully. "OH!" Toes curled. Fingers, too. Clutching at the bat's pink fur as his cock jerked and jolted, splashing her womb with sperm.

Adelaide listened to her normally shy, gentle mate, how he was squealing, crying. For her! For me. Felt him undulating, writhing. How he wriggled. How he, in a squealing gasp, released. That thick, stiff cock. Filling her with creamy, sticky seed, dollops of it. He had such big balls. She wanted all they could give.

He was gripping her ass, desperately. Squeezing. Huffing.

She rolled her hips, her entire body, felt his loin-fur rubbing on her swollen bud. His seed, so much of it, already dripping back out. It was too much. She joined him. In orgasm! Flutters and shakes. Spasms and quakes. Rippling waves of intense pleasure radiating from her feminine core, sending her body and mind into nirvana.

The bat flapped her wing-arms and echo-burst, happily.

The mouse's sizzling, pulsing ears caught those high, high pitches, the highest range. They barely registered even to his keen lobes. They bounced off everything. Walls. Shelves. The ceiling and floor. Him, her. Then, finally, back to hers ears, her bat brain instantly converting the noises into vivid, impressionistic images. He so desperately wished he could see what she was seeing. To his mousey mind, they were just ... noises. But to know that she felt so good that her moans were literally painting pictures? It was so romantic.

Adelaide, long tong snaking out of her mouth, rolled her neck around and sighed. Sucked air. And sighed again. "Ooh," she finally whispered.

"Y-yeah," he managed, in total agreement. He reached for her wing-tips, hooking his thumbs with her much-bigger ones.

She looked down at him. His fur was matted with sweat, whiskers and tail limp and relaxed. He was disheveled but somehow cuter than ever.

He returned her gaze, intently. "I love you," he mouthed, voice shaking. He always got emotional after sex. "I love you ... so much ... "

She smiled warmly and hunched forward. Laying flat atop him, breasts squishing to his chest. Muzzles nuzzling together. "I love you, too," she breathed back. "My only mouse."

Field sniffled. And it wasn't allergies this time. He hugged her tightly. Oh, to never have to let go ...

"It's alright," she soothed.

A minute passed.

They just laid together, breathing, cuddling.

"You okay?" she eventually asked.

"Yeah. I am," he assured, quietly.

"Good. So! Does this mean we can try the movie theater next?" she teased.

"Uh ... well." He swallowed. "Let's not plan too far ahead."

The bat chittered with mirth.

The mouse, growing limp, reluctantly pulled out of her. She was so, so warm. As they pulled apart, his shyness returned. He could only imagine the mess he was about to leave on the tabletop! They'd have to do a thorough cleaning before they left. Would the scent hang in the air until tomorrow? There weren't security cameras in here, were there?

"Relax." Adelaide chuckled, seeing the look on his face. "Don't think about what others might feel. How did you feel?" she stressed. "How was it?" Her nose buried in his golden neck-fur. Like straw, like ripened wheat. "Mm?" She nipped at his jawline. Then gave his cheek a kiss.

"Couldn't you tell?" he eventually murmured, grazing his lips against hers. He reached down to her rump. Her pretty, purple tail-bow had come loose. Probably when he'd been pawing at her backside, admittedly. So, he untied it and then carefully looped it back up, secure and symmetrical.

"Thanks, mousey."

"No problem." His paws retreated to her sides, fingers combing through her bright, sugar-pink fur.

"To answer your question: I could tell. But I like hearing your thoughts." Their whiskers brushed. "So, tell me ... "

"One word? Mm. Let me think ... "

"Let me help you." She kissed him, deeply. With tongue. Lots of long, batty tongue.

He opened wide and gurgled.

Sucks and smacks.

And a few sighs.

"Think of anything?" she prodded.

Panting, he pointed toward a nearby dictionary. "Can you, uh ... reach ... "

"That?" She pointed, too.

He nodded.

The bat stretched and grabbed for it. Almost dropped it but managed to get him the thick book.

He flipped to a random page and chose the most positive word he could find. "It was ... explosive," he said.

She giggle-squeaked. "Explosive? Hmm. I like it! With your stick of dynamite? Couldn't have put it better myself."

The colorful mates soon untangled, rising up and stretching, regaining their bearings. And their clothes. And some cleaning supplies from the utility closet.

Meanwhile, as they had been the entire time, and for a long time after the bat and mouse returned to their rural home, the library's army of books was dead silent. Stunned. Collecting dust on the shelves. For all the knowledge and theoretical worlds they contained, they had nothing on those two furs. They could never hope to be as vital. After all, actions spoke louder than words.