Intermission
A draining sound. And the lights went out. And the picture stopped moving, the large screen going blank and dark. The whole theater dead save for those little, dim running lights on the floors of the aisles.
A static-sounding voice came over the loudspeaker. Apologizing. Offering free popcorn and stuff from the concession stand. And promising to fix the problem in the next ten to fifteen minutes.
"Want to get some popcorn?" Toby asked. He was a deer. A buck. Sitting next to his companion, Flint. Who was a squirrel.
"No."
"It's free."
"I'm not hungry. I told you that," the squirrel replied. His nose and whiskers were twitching. Even without full sight of him, Toby could sense as much. Flint continued, "I told you that when we arrived."
"It wasn't free, then."
"They always burn it, anyway."
They were the only ones in the theater. It was a weekday showing. Matinee showing. A film that had been out for awhile.
"I think movie theater popcorn is the best," Toby said. "I don't know why, but it is."
"I know."
"Was that sarcastic?"
The squirrel said nothing.
"Maybe we should get some," Toby continued. "Popcorn, I mean."
"Go ahead."
"If you're not gonna have any, what's the point?"
"If you're hungry, fine. But I'm ... I don't want popcorn," said Flint, flustered. "You have to make a big issue out of everything."
"I think you're the one that does that," he corrected. Serious.
"I am not," the squirrel said stubbornly.
Pause.
Toby then commented, "Maybe they'll pay for our tickets, too. Or give us free passes. They should."
"Well, it's not their fault the power malfunctioned." Pause. "We rely too much on technology. It will be our undoing."
The buck frowned. Sighed.
"What?" Flint asked.
"You're in a mood, is your problem."
"I'm not in a mood." He hugged his bushy tail. Meticulously grooming it. As he always did. It was never perfect enough.
"Denial. Always denial."
"Stop it." Pause. "And so what? I can't be in a mood every now and then? You're never in a mood?"
"My bad moods aren't nearly as cynical as yours."
"Mm," the squirrel went, making a frown face. He sniffed and shrugged. Shook his head. "Sorry," he whispered.
"It's okay."
"Yeah?"
The buck nodded.
Neither said anything for a minute.
The buck giggled.
"What?" Flint asked.
The deer said nothing.
"What?" the squirrel pressed.
"I just had ... a thought." The way he said it ...
"A thought?" Flint said.
The buck said nothing.
"Look, tell me. What's so amusing that ... " The squirrel stopped as he felt the hand, Toby's hand, slide through the fur on his waist, into his pants. Until he was gripping the squirrel's sheath.
"Can't get away from me now," Toby teased, whispering into Flint's swivelling ear.
The squirrel swallowed. Letting out a breath. "Well, I hadn't ... hadn't planned on it. On getting away, I mean."
"Relax."
"What?"
"You're nervous. Don't think I don't know when you're nervous."
The squirrel shifted in his seat, both from the fear of getting caught, of getting found out ... and the feel of his partner's hand slowly up and down his sheath.
"Get your pants off," the deer whispered.
"I can't just take off my clothes in ... "
"Just put them down round your ankles. No one will see. We're the only ones in here."
"What if the movie comes back on? The lights? Somebody will find out," Flint whispered conspiratorially. Chittering.
"Hush," Toby said, whispering into his ear. "Come on. We don't know how long it'll stay dark."
The squirrel took a shaky breath. He and Toby had ... well, they'd been intimate before. He wasn't nervous about that. But he was a private, guarded squirrel. He didn't volunteer information about his private life, or his sexuality, or ... and he certainly didn't engage in such risky behavior. Doing it in public. Running the risk of getting caught. Being judged. Being ...
"Hey," Toby whispered, still stroking him. The other hand on the squirrel's belly. Running through the fur there. "You're always so timid. Just ... take a chance, huh? Relax."
"It doesn't feel ... "
"What are you worried about, exactly?"
"I don't know."
"I bet you do know." Pause. "Come on. It'll be fun. It'll feel good. Your adrenaline might even enhance it."
The squirrel nodded wearily. Deciding to give in. Nodding again as the deer slowly pawed him off. With the deer stroking him, the squirrel undid his pants, wriggling, bringing everything down his legs. Letting the clothing fall around his ankles and foot-paws.
"Good boy," the deer whispered. Feeling his heart in his chest. Feeling that spike of eagerness. The antsy anticipation. One of his hands hurriedly fumbled at his own clothing. Until he managed to get his own attire down to his own ankles. Also unbuttoning his button-up shirt, letting it hang open. The buck's strong, furry chest rose and fell. Flushed. One hand bringing Flint out and erect. The other hand doing the same to himself.
"We better hurry," said the distracted squirrel. His head at a tilt.
Toby pulled Flint out of his seat, and to his own. To his lap. Leaning the squirrel's bare back (having taken off the smaller one's shirt, so he could feel that fur against his) against his bare, furry chest. His warm, stiff meat rubbing against the fur of the squirrel's rump cheeks. The buck let out a big breath. Wasting no time. Sucking in a deep breath of air and pushing in. Into the rodent's clenching tail-hole. Deep. Deeper. Into the warm and tight space. His pre helping ease the friction. He hilted himself to the squirrel, his legs spread. Hoofed feet apart, legs stretching but bumping into the backs of the seats in front of them.
The squirrel, meanwhile, having been speared to his partner, could only close his eyes. Pant. Twitch. He whimpered lightly at Toby's hand on his cock. As Toby began to stroke him again. Simultaneously bucking up against his rump, into him. Softly, though.
The squirrel closed his mouth. Bit his lip. So as to stop any squeaking. He squeaked during sex. Uncontrollably. He felt it was silly. Was embarrassed by it. Toby would tell him it was adorable.
"Uh, uh ... oh," breathed Toby, sliding in and out of the squirrel. Going as fast as he could go without hurting him. Using his free paw to hug the squirrel's bushy tail. The other paw still stroking. Hips bucking.
"Mm, mm," went Flint through his closed mouth. Nose and whiskers flaring and twitching. He hadn't expected to feel so good ... doing this. Doing it here. But his heart was hammering. And his fur was flushed. And the overload of physical and emotional feeling was welcome. Very welcome. He began to relax more.
Knowing it had been at least ten minutes and they had little time, the deer quickened his pace again. Relishing the quick motion of his hips pounding into that furry behind. With that bushy tail brushing his face. Burying his nose into that tail and just breathing. The sound and speed of his balls slapping against the squirrel. The deer leaned forward, out of the seat. Pushing the squirrel with him, draping him over the back of the seat in front of them. To give him easier access. More room. A better position. And sighing, eyes squeezed shut, the deer grunted and grunted and humped. Wrapping his arms around the squirrel's chest, in a firm, hot hug. Loving the feeling of physical closeness and warmth, of their two bodies in motion. The pleasure of the act.
The squirrel lost control of his restraint. Began squeaking. Perhaps a bit too loudly, as the deer gently cupped a hand over the squirrel's mouth. Rocking Flint forward with his thrusts. Flint's paws reaching back and clutching at Toby's fur. For something to hold to. To hold to him.
When Flint had contained his squeaking (exchanging it for light panting and whimpering), Toby lowered his hand and moved it back to the squirrel's cock. Trying to bring him to climax. He humped, giving a grunt. And then another.
The squirrel, sweating beneath his fur, felt weak while he was filled. He tried to move, but could only slump back against he buck's chest. Toby's hooves scuffing the floor as he fell back into his seat, still holding to Flint. Feeling the squirrel's tail-hole clench, clench. As the squirrel hit his own orgasm. Toby caught the seed with his hands.
Reeling for a few seconds, they quickly scrambled to get proper again. Panting, dressed again. But sweating. And the squirrel smelled of buck, and the buck smelled of squirrel. Not a half a minute later, the film resumed.
Flint let out a deep breath, whiskers twitching. He swallowed.
Toby grinned. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"
Flint, still hot beneath his fur, bit his lip before whispering back, wearing a shy, satisfied smile, "Four stars."