by Tempe O'Kun
“Slow down.” The etchings show all manner of celestial tortoises. By the light of the air vents, I can see they trace all around the walls. “You might be tough as old leather, but the traps in this place would stamp you with more than a decorative pattern.”
“The floor in here doesn’t have those loose tiles.” She swings a solid kick against the barrier. Nothing. “Should be fine.” Bracing against the notched pole, she hops up to deliver a massive wallop to the door with both feet.
From the ceiling with an echoing clatter, a massive copper turtle shell rattles down. It covers the cussing hare in an instant, clacking to the floor. Furious scrambling rattles around inside it.
A step back toward the tunnel saves me from similar entrapment. I walk toward her, tapping with care on the shell. “You okay in there?”
Her face emerges from the front opening, giving her the appearance of an irate, bunny-eared turtle. “Do ah look okay to you?”
I laugh. The situation is too absurd to do otherwise.
“Blast it all, Blake!” Struggle as she might, she can’t force her shoulders through. “Ah’ve had mah fill a’ this whole fluff-mattin’ consarn!”
Stifling my amusement, I wipe a tear from my eye. “Just relax. This has to have some kind of catch.”
“Ah’m not waitin’ for you to poke around.” She grunts with the effort of another full-strength bunny-kick. The shell barely shivers. “That tears it—ah’m shootin’ mah way outta this overgrown teacup.” A gun clicks inside the heavy stone enclosure.
“Don’t do that.” My wing fingers tap their way along the massive shell. The shell’s engraved surface has been inlayed with turquoise to form a single continuous mosaic. “The bullet’s just as likely to just bounce around and hit you.”
Head still poking from the shell, she sinks into sullen grumbles.
With a cautious eye out for any secondary trap that could spring out at me, I lean over the shell. “It looks to have a catch, but it’s not exposed here. See if you can reach it from the inside.”
She fumbles around inside the shell, then a loud click rattled through the chamber. Her next kick against the heavy copper shell shifted it. After great effort, we managed to lift one side high enough for her to slip free through the hole. She stood, flustered and fur mussed.
I patted her shoulder, dust puffing off it like locomotive steam. “I may have an entirely new outlook on your lifestyle after this.”
Her sigh turns into a cough. “Afraid ah might too.”
My ears perk up. Our voices sound different now; the acoustics of the room have changed. I peer up to see an opening has been revealed in the ceiling, around the notched pole. A single flap of my wings carries me over the ornate copper shell. My toes and wing fingers grip the beam and allow its use as a ladder. With due care, I climb onto the top of the tortoise shell. A short climb sees me up the pole and into some new space. After checking the floor for further traps, I climb in. Columns of light pierce the darkness, resting upon various new tortoise engravings.
Below me, commotion rises. “Move outta the way, lawbat.” She moves to stomp her way up onto the artifact.
“Don’t climb on the shell!”
“Why?” Her ears launch up like signal flags. “Thing had no objections to clamping down on me.”
I sigh. “It is clearly an objet d’art.”
Wariness cools her enthusiasm. Her boot returns, gingerly, to the floor.
I must admit I’m impressed with her regard for the arts. “Toss me the rope and I’ll pull you up. You can brace against this pole without wrecking the shell.”
With wary slowness, she shrugs the rope off her shoulders and throws it to me. Once I secure it, she hops clear of the shell and starts walking up the notched pole. “So help me, Blake, if ah wind up with a tail full a’ darts...”
With a resigned groan, I decide correcting her now would only increase the odds off her damaging the massive shell. Instead, I offer a wing and pull her the rest of the way up. Together we stand and take account of the room.
About half the size of the one below it, the space is again round and circled by a band of carvings in the stone. A spiral of air shafts streams light around to various points of the chamber, illuminating specific portions of the wall. On a pedestal at the center of the room gleams a turtle figurine, about an inch tall.
She searches around the room for some hidden passage or compartment. “Where’s the great treasure?”
“I think that is your great treasure.” I lift a wing at the stone pedestal at the center of the room.
She glances askew at it, then kneels to examine it closer. Its copper shell looks quite a bit like the giant on that trapped her minutes before. “We came through all that for this little bug?”
“It makes some sense. The tribe that built this wanted you to learn patience. Giving you a huge reward wouldn’t seem their style.” Without being as obvious as her, I search the room for any more loose stonework. “It might even be token, meant to be retrieved as a sort of test.”
A scowl darkens her muzzle. “Testin’ mah patience, all right.”
I pad up next to her. “I think it’s rather darling.”
“Ah’m sure ya do.” Her blue eyes roll, catching the light with a sapphire gleam. “Yer keen on fine little things.”
“I am.” I stretch up and kiss her cheek.
“Don’t go butterin’ me up now.” She crosses her arms at me. “Ah’ve still got mah dander up over this nonsense.”
We depart the complex at a more assured pace than we entered. The occasional copper snapper clattering at our heels only winds Six up further. At long last, I walk with her out of the tunnel and into the warm sunlight of an Arizona afternoon. “I have to admit, Six: that was quite pleasant.”
“Tribe that dug this thing’s lucky they vanished, or ah’d give ‘em a piece of mah mind.” She shoves the little tortoise into my grasp.
I study the bauble, having not noticed her snatch it in the first place. “You don’t want to keep it? I’m sure it’d worth something to a collector of antiquities.”
The mention of money raises her eyebrows, but she heaved a deep sigh. “No… You keep it. Ah’d rather have you happy than some rich dunce.”
We head back into the buttes and twisty cliffsides and begin the long climb that will lead us back toward White Rock.
Chapter 2
I reckon all his fun parts run pink.
Light floods out the opening door. The sheriff strides up all doleful, wings folded, his gold-flecked eyes on the stars.
I lay a paw on his shoulder.
Being grabbed by shadows startles him some. Goes for his gun, but I pluck it from his grasp. Being the clever sort, he bowls into me, knocking us both to the dirt.
Pinning him to the gravel before he can fuss further, I smile, panting. “This ain’t exactly the sort of tumble ah was aiming for, sugar bat.”
He stutters like a seizing telegrapher. “S-Si—”
I lay a finger on his lips, returning the iron I lightened him of.
He fumbles it into his holster with one hind paw, staring up at me. Looks awful darling like that, all startled and joyful in the moonlight; not my fault I need to kiss him for it. He relaxes under me a moment, then breaks off to glance into the night. Nobody’s around, but I let him up, figuring we’ve got better things to do than lay in the gravel all night. I’ve no sooner dusted off my clothes than he’s herding me into the City Office on his wing. Eager little thing.
A swift boot shuts the door, and I’m alone with my lawbat. Silver light plays along the coal-black fuzz of his wings. A lonesome longing burns inside me as I recall how silky it feels against my nose, my tongue, my…
“I thought you left.” He’s fixing to sound tough— if he wore boots, though, he’d be shaking in them.
“Turned aroun
d.” And, even with a price still on my head, he ought to know better. “Figured one more night in your company wouldn’t go amiss.”
“You’re welcome to all the nights you want.” His wing fingers close on my paw. “Days too.”
I slip a paw along his muzzle, all gentle-like. “I don’t put up fences, I just ride ‘em. This is just the way of the world right now.”
Before he can get another word out, I kiss him again. He lifts up to meet it, obliging my paws to run up his back.
He breathes real deep, then manages to pull away from my kiss again. “You’re in heat.”
Bashfulness sweeps through my ears, but fails to stop my nibbling along the bottom of his muzzle. I’ve always been the willful sort.
Hushed by my bunny charms, the sheriff folds his wings around me. I rest my muzzle on his, feeling all secure and longed for. Matter of fact, I’m feeling quite a bit of longing pressed against my more private regions. I press right back, eliciting a tender eep from the fruit bat.
Giggling like a fool, I throw the lawbat over my shoulder. He agitates some as I carry him down the hall to his room, putting on a show of trying to squirm free, but I keep hold. He has a cozy little bedroom. Some might take it as being a mite small, but it’s got plenty of room for what I’m planning to do with him. Even just walking feels all slick and tingly. I set the sheriff down, thunder rumbling through my heartbeat. My eyes settle on the tidy little bed. “Sleepin’ up in the rafters still?”
A blush creeps into his voice. “When you’re not here, Six, I’m upside down in more ways than one.”
I blush too, hiding behind my ears as I settle in next to him. “That ain’t fair. Nothing ah say ever sounds like that.”
He brushes my ears aside, cradling my cheek. “Maybe not to you…”
Darn lawbat keeps compelling me to kiss him. This time I get brave and lick on his lips some. Shouldn’t surprise him— he’s the only fella I practice such skills with, and he knows I’m real fond of when he does tricks with that twister of a tongue he’s got. His wing thumbs trace through my chest fluff, over my galloping heart and down the buttons of my vest.
Clothes fall to the floor as we get to gettin’ reacquainted. Soon I’m wearing nothing but a gunbelt and straddling the sheriff. His soft wings caress my back; his brown eyes glimmer up at mine, with more gold than most river prospectors see in a lifetime. I want to ask him if he loves me, but am fearful of any answers he might give. Instead, I ease myself down onto the warmth of his body, letting it soothe away all those cold desert nights.
Erect and hot, he feels right pleasant against my fur. I angle up, rubbing my lips along its length. Blake moans, then giggles.
I cross my arms over my naked breasts. Blazes, do my nipples feel tender and hard. “Just what are you gigglin’ at, sheriff?”
“Your tail! It’s tickling my… my…”
I glance back, then bob my fluffy tail against his sac. He squirms, arching his body up against me. I show mercy and let him pull me down for a kiss. After a few fluttery touches of our muzzles, he turns his head a little, allowing himself better access to my mouth. The taste of canned peaches lingers on his breath. That long, talented tongue coils around mine, milking it. Feels mighty unusual, even if he did use it on me a while back. Granted, he used it elsewhere...
I carry on rubbing against his length, spreading slick wetness as I ride. My poor little bunny burrow clenches for attention. Reaching down, I lift the head of his member and prod it against my opening. Takes a little wrangling, and a moment passes where I question my technique, but then I gasp as he spreads me wide.
Blake gives joyful little squeaks as I work my way down onto him. Doesn’t hurt like I recall, but the going in is powerful tight. I try to set my loins at ease—this was their idea, after all. I grope at the base of his shaft, feeling that he’s about halfway into me. Trembling at the thought, I press on, my pale ears swaying down to his dark-furred chest. In the moonlight, the black tips of them seem to be picking up his color.
It’s a peculiar thing, making love for the second time and without a recently relocated shoulder. Allows a bunny to notice the little things. Like how she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat as he’s buried inside her.
I lift off him a ways, mouth opening in a breathless sigh at the empty feeling this brings. Not that I mind how it tugs on my nethers, mind you. Letting my weight carry me back down, I slip onto him again. I tilt my head and watch in the moonlight as our fur meets. I keep thrusting and try a few different angles, seeing what feels best. I find that laying down close to him feels mighty pleasant, allowing my clit to rub right into his fur, and still affords me plenty of room to bounce like I’m standing in the stirrups.
My gunbelt catches on the fur of Blake’s belly, drawing forth a pitiable whimper. “Oww!”
“Sorry, Jordan.” I hold stone-still. My clit tingles in the chill night air. “Didn’t mean to.”
“I’m okay.” He rubs where I pulled his fur, then caresses my shoulders with his wing thumbs. I can hear a smile in his panted breath. “Don’t stop on my account.”
I hitch the gunbelt higher, so as not to repeat the performance. On powerful bunny legs, I bounce up and down his shaft. Feels awful nice to be the one doing the riding. We’ve only done it once before, and I was in no condition to be on top. Feels awful nice in general, having that healthy length of lawbat inside me. The sheriff starts humping back, move in time with me as much as my clumsy thrusts allow. Doesn’t seem to bother him none, judging by how he cups my modest breasts, squeezing all tender-like, letting my nipple rub against his palms. Ain’t my most sensitive bits, compared with elsewhere, though I’m glad he’s keen on them, since nobody else notices ‘em. Blake, though, he gives a little extra twitch down below, swelling a little more against me. Makes a bunny blush, seeing how he fancies them so.
I do some squeezing of my own, picking up speed. Blake’s gasping for air. Breath, his and mine, sways my ears. Lewd squishing resounds through the little room. I’m riding at full tilt now, slamming down so hard I feel his sac bounce. So hard the bed squeaks. Lawbat squeaks too, muzzle open, teeth glinting silver in the moonbeams, hunching against me like a bat possessed. Bucking hard inside me, his penis swelling just a touch wider. Wing thumbs grab my hips. Squeaks run to gasps, gasps to a breathless stammer. Then he starts spraying ropes of seed against my tender walls. I shudder, feeling pulses of heat and pressure spread down his member.
In his fit, he pinches on my nipples, causing me to jerk down against him out of reflex. My sore little clit grinds against the base of his pulsing erection, driving pleasure through my body in lightning strikes. My paw flashes down to give it a proper rub. Doesn’t take much before pleasure’s overwhelming me fast, what with the flatter of the lawbat’s enjoyment of me. I clench hard on the spurting shaft within me, the muscles of my vagina dancing all frantic, milking my sweet fruit bat for all he’s worth.
When the world returns from being a haze of pleasure, I find myself muzzle to muzzle with the sheriff. I clutch him tighter than all that’s dear in this world, reveling in the silky warmth he brings, inside and out. Buried in me, wrapped around me, I feel all full and cared for. I fall into dreams with a blanket against the night, wrapped up in my fella’s wings. “Jordan… Oh, Jordan…”
I wake to birds chittering, warm sun, and a pretty little lawbat in my arms. Seems he’s still asleep. I lie there and to myself, burying my worries in the soft of his fur. After a spell, I get to feeling the need for some diversion, my claws tracing down his chest fluff. This path leads me under the covers for a little prospecting. His fur runs coffee-brown, though his chest has more orange. His smooth midriff lead my paws down along where his wings connect, then onward to his muscled legs and tight little rump. Silky fur whispers through mine, touching me like only the wind does.
Blame my heat, blame my bunny ways, but
I’m feeling more a woman than a lady. Under the glow of the blankets, I uncover what Blake looks like when I’m not driving him to distraction.
Seems I’m quite the wild hare when nobody can see, because all of a sudden the lawbat’s getting some awful familiar nuzzles. I nibble on his sheath with my lips, tugging at the soft chewiness. My nose twitches at his scent: male, musky, inviting. Warm too, and growing warmer. My paw closes in around the base of his length. Still nuzzling in on his equipment, I start rubbing up and down his hidden shaft. As I stroke, I can feel him growing in my paw. Front of the sheath’s still nice and loose, so when I pull it back the pink tip peeks out, then gets covered again. Amuses me that it’s pink, when all the rest of him runs coffee-brown. Well, except his tongue; I reckon all his fun parts run pink.
After playing with him a spell, he firms up and pokes right on out of the sheath on his own. The head’s peeking out, so I get real brave and lick on that too. Same fruity taste greets me, wonders where I’ve been for so long. His skin’s still got a little slack, so I keep rubbing as I taste him. I’d never have thought I’d take to this so, but feeling him grow on my tongue feels unusual and grand. Then again, most things about fellas seem unusual and grand.
The sheriff moans and rolls to his back as I tongue around his sheath. Not overly sure about what I’m doing here, but the stiff length of lawbat in my paw insists I’ve got a handle on matters. Sets a real bounce to a bunny’s tail, if you take my meaning.
Blake draws the blanket back. We meet eyes. Still tonguing to beat the band, I let my nose twitch against the underside of his tip.
Passion sets a gleam to the grin of my polite little lawbat.
I squeak a giggle and let Blake drag me up his body. That hot length blazes a trail between my breasts, down my stomach, and against my heat-addled lady bits. My thin-furred loins grow damp as I ride the underside of his length. He’s real stiff now, balls moving whenever I rub up on his sheath. Having heard that can be a tender area on fellas, I scoot up and wiggle atop his round tip for a while. Softer than the shaft. Could be that it’s hotter too—but then that could be me. I remember to lift up my gunbelt so as not to jab the poor fella again. A wing reaches up to caress my breast. I smile and ride harder.
