Here is chapter two. Be warned, that intimacy I've been fortelling is going to happen in the later half.
Deep in the sewers of London, not far from the riverfront, in Professor Ratigan's lair, lurked a motley crew of several mice, a lizard, and a bat. Most were quite tense; their leader had vanished and was dead for all they knew, and most of their colleagues had been caught and imprisoned. They themselves had been fortunate enough to escape such fate, and with nowhere else to go they'd returned to the hideout, but they were not sure what to do now.
Fidget had just woken up a little earlier, it being the evening. His mind had been preset, after several years of working for Ratigan and having lived in this location all his life, to follow a basic routine, which he immediately began without thought. It was only when, not having encountered Ratigan, he'd gone to find him and inquire what he wanted of him tonight, that he recalled what had happened over the last few days.
Now he lurked by the steps beneath the faucet of the rum barrel, on which he normally slept. For the past five minutes he'd alternated - in an almost perfect pattern - between pacing back and forth at a normal speed, wings tightly crossed and head hung low, then pacing as though he were in a relay race for a few seconds, then scrambling onto the bottom step and curling up till one could only see a ball made of gray wings.
It was during his second bout curled up on the steps that Bill, the lizard, came over with a bottle and a spoon. Tapping Fidget's shoulder as best as he could, he said, "Fidget, it's time for your medicine!"
Fidget peeked out at Bill, who was carefully pouring the medicine into the spoon. "Now open wide, young feller me lad!"
Fidget didn't like the nasty tasting stuff any more than the next person did, but Bill's addressing of him as though he were twelve and not seventeen spurred him to say, "Oh for crumb's sake, gimme that!", and grab the spoon, miraculously not spilling anything. After forcing himself to ingest the foul syrup rather than project it as far as he could spit, he shuddered and groaned, before asking, "how many?"
"Two spoonfuls, I'm afraid."
"Ugh! Uggghhh!" Fidget grunted as he grabbed the bottle, poured up the next one, and repeated the process.
"Well now, that takes some nerve, I'll say!" Bill laughed.
"Grr, cut it out and go away!" Fidget growled before climbing up the steps on all fours, standing upright, and slinking into Ratigan's ballroom. He then made his way over to the fountain, which often held champagne if Ratigan was in a celebratory mood, but was now bone dry… and sticky. Fidget slumped down and leant over the edge of the basin, peering in. He'd have preferred if it had water or at least some liquid in it, but settled for pretending there was. If there had been, one would have seen right away that what he was doing was running his fingers through it, then splashing it about for a while, then drawing his hand out and just staring absently at his reflection when such activities held no further interest.
He couldn't get Olivia off his mind. Try as he might, all he could think about was her lovely Scottish accent, her gorgeous brown eyes and tan fur, her winsome but sincere smile, and the way her mouth and her hand had each felt to his lips.
He'd known few women in his life. The ones he had encountered were nearly all mice. Knowing that few women bats were present in this part of London, and knowing his job as right-hand man to Professor Ratigan, and that he was not the most comely of lads, Fidget had prepared himself long ago to remain unattached all his life. He had never given up entirely on romance, however; whenever he'd thought of his father's stories about his mother, he'd thought the prospect of himself falling in love not entirely hopeless. Of course, he'd always figured if it did happen, it would be with a woman bat. He'd never dreamed it would be with a woman mouse.
And what a match love had made! He could have easily fallen for a slummish girl, like one of those ones that danced onstage at the Rat Trap Saloon, or a prostitute, and nobody would have cared much if they'd hitched or entered some form of a relationship. But no, it had to be a young lady from a respected middle-class family; she being as refined as a lady of title, herself, in his eyes. It didn't help that he'd only met her because under Ratigan's orders, he'd kidnapped first her father, the renowned toymaker Hiram Flaversham, and then herself, but that wasn't the biggest obstacle between them.
It had crossed his mind once or twice since that first day, that maybe he could ignore all the objections and elope with her anyway. They could live together, far out in the country and away from it all. Nobody would bother them, and everything would be just fine. It was not a far cry from what his parents had done - his mother's family had strongly disapproved of his father, and had written her off when she married him, but she had not cared; all that mattered to the two of them was being together. But Fidget knew it wasn't the same in his case. He couldn't just take Olivia, for one thing she had a much more loving relationship with her father than his mother'd had with her family. And he may have done it under Ratigan's orders, but of his own accord he would not separate Olivia from Hiram.
Fidget removed his cap from his head, then splashed his head into the imaginary water in the fountain. If the real thing helped one get ahold of themselves, maybe this would work.
"Y'know that works best when there's water," Bill's voice stated from behind.
Fidget lifted himself up and turned around, lips curled up in the imitation of a snarl at having his privacy invaded, then he gave up and leant over the fountain edge again, chin resting on his wings. Perhaps part of him wanted Bill to stay, and ask what he asked next.
"What's got you so down, Fidget?"
"Huh? W-what do you mean?" Fidget glanced around the room to confirm they were alone.
Bill sat down on Fidget's left with his back to the fountain, one arm crooked ontop of the edge. "Well I'll admit you're not always the most chipper feller around, but these past few nights you've been especially, er… sullen."
"I am? Didn't notice." Fidget looked away again.
"Well, you've hardly spoken since you fell into the river. Normally you're always talking to yourself about something!" Bill thought it amusing but Fidget scowled; he never thought others were aware of that. "And believe it or not, you snap a whole lot more whenever someone speaks to you, and you've got that perpetual frown on your face!"
Fidget looked at Bill wearing a feigned smile intended to prove him wrong, but all it did for him was give one the impression he needed castor oil. It made Bill laugh, which further annoyed Fidget. Why was he always so "chipper" as he put it? If someone else wasn't - namely Fidget - why couldn't he at least pretend not to be so optimistic?
"Fidget, is it the Professor that's bothering you?"
Fidget peeked at Bill again. He thought Fidget was upset, maybe even scared, now that Ratigan had disappeared. True, the professor had been a major part of the bat's life for as long as he could remember, but that wasn't what was on his mind most of the time. Should he lie and affirm Bill's concerns just to get him to lay off?
"Erm, yes… uh no.. yes… maybe, I… no. Yes. No or yes!"
No or yes? What kind of answer was that? "Fidget, it is alright to be scared now that he's gone. The rest of us are too. But you shouldn't bottle it all up."
There he went again. Talking to him like a child. It was one thing when Ratigan did that to him, but Bill was, in terms of rank, just a colleague, and only about thirteen years older than him at that. And why not bottle his feelings up around the others? He'd bottled up a lot of things over the years, and he hadn't exploded yet. It was none of their business anyway.
"Well, if there's anything you need to talk about, you know where to find me," Bill said, getting up and departing.
But Fidget didn't want to confide in Bill. He had known the lizard all his life, and yet, though he'd only known her three days, the only one he wanted to confide in was Olivia. She was the only one who would understand, because she was only one who knew how he felt. She felt the same.
/
Olivia walked along the dock at the riverfront, up to the door of the Rat Trap Saloon. Having paid close attention to what Basil and Dr. Dawson had said whilst explaining to her how they'd found Ratigan's lair, she remembered this place was part of the directions.
She knew she was entering a saloon intended for ruffians and sailors and other riff-raffs, and that an unescorted young lady dressed in middle-class clothes would be sure to raise eyebrows or worse, but she wasn't jaded by it. She carried her parasol and a small knife in her coat pocket, just to be safe.
She opened the door to a dim-lit, crowded room which smelled strongly of cheap liquor, smoke, and at least a hint of vomit. She saw men in old, faded, raggedy clothes, pie-eyed from heavy liquor consumption, and slumping over the bar tables; overly-made up women with bare arms and exposed chests, who might have been in their early twenties but looked facially to be in their fifties and up; she guessed immediately what occupation kept them. A number of these women were playing cards or getting drunk with the men, and probably it was all included in the list of things they would do to please them and get paid for it. Up ahead she saw a beautiful white-furred mouse in a blue, feathered leotard dancing in a risqué manner with a few better-covered women who might have been her sisters, they looked so alike. She paused for a moment to observe these showgirls, watching as they skilfully dodged the efforts of several lust-filled audience members to get up to them, and thinking that if their appearance and behaviour spoke for all who worked that sort of job, showgirls seemed marginally more refined than prostitutes. Marginally.
"Where did Basil say the trap door was?" she wondered as she gave the entire room one more glance. She supposed she would have to ask the bartender, if he really had been in cahoots with the evil professor and his organization,* surely he would know. She approached the bar counter, ignoring the stares - some surprised, some malicious, some with indicative intrigue - that she attracted from the bar's patrons. Although she would have preferred to scold them soundly for it, she even pretended not to hear the cat calls.
"Excuse me," Olivia began as she approached the counter.
"I'm sorry Miss," the bartender said in a gruff tone, keeping his gaze on a mug he was wiping with a cloth, "we can't serve women without escorts."
"I'm not here for a drink," Olivia stated. "I am looking for a bat called Fidget."
The bartender looked up in surprise at her, and a few faces turned with cocked eyebrows;* the question of the moment was obviously what this beautiful, decent mouse could want with scum like him. The bartender asked as much.
"Now what could a fine young thing like you possibly want with him?"
"Um, that is between the bat and myself," she said dismissively. "I'm given to understand that he lives nearby this place. Where shall I go to find him?"
The bartender gave her a suspicious frown, but nevertheless put down the mug and the cloth, and motioned to her to come around the counter. He showed her to the trap door situated back there, and said, "If you must go down there, Miss, you'd better have someone come along. It is very dangerous."
"No, thank you," Olivia replied, "it is best if I go alone, and I've made it this far alright."
"Well, don't say I didn't warn you." The bartender muttered, then told her how to get to Ratigan's lair past this point. He held the door up for Olivia, and she thanked him, before proceeding on her way.
It was filthy deep in the sewer, and as she proceeded down a rickety staircase (which in some parts appeared half-rotted with mould), then picked up her skirts and hopped carefully along the stones in the dirty, mirky water surrounding an open pipe up ahead, she certainly did not envy those who had to travel this passage regularly.
It was even harder going up through the dark, grimy, scummy pipes, and she wished she had brought a lamp with her so she could see better. But she made it just fine, and presently came to a grate which, with a little difficulty, she managed to lift up and climb out from underneath. Now she stood in the unpleasantly familiar region that had made Ratigan's preferred refuge. A short walk away was the rum barrel which served as his ballroom.
She noticed two mice men walking out of the barrel, and ran behind a wooden pole to wait till they went away. She heard them talking, and peered round to see them sitting on the steps, one in a striped shirt and jacket smoking a cigarrette and the other, a short, heavy-set one in an orange shirt and green vest, lighting a cigar. She realized with disappointment that they intended to stay like that for a while. She wondered where Fidget was, and if there was some way she could get past those mice without them noticing her.
She decided listening to what they said might be of use. From what she made out, it seemed as if there were a few other thugs that had escaped capture at Buckingham Palace, and that several of them had gone up to the Rat Trap for refreshment, while the rest stayed guard over the hideout; when they came back those still here would take their turn. Olivia winced; out of all those mice that had overheard she sought Fidget, how many might have been those men? Then she thought she heard the short one say, "I'll betcha ol'Fidget's gonna stay here all night."
"Yeah, he's not been himself. Thinks no one notices, either."
"Bill's convinced he misses the Professor," the short mouse said, which was met with a mocking laugh from his companion, "but I know what's really got him."
"Really?" The other asked, inviting him to continue.
"The bat's been bitten by the love bug!"
"What?" The mouse in the striped shirt asked in both amazement and amusement. "Fidget in love! Oh, the wonder and glory of it!" he teased, clasping his hands and fluttering his eyelids. This display, though it prompted the other mouse to hold his sides with laughter, did not please its secret witness in any way.
"But - but really!" The one in the striped shirt said between laughs, "how did you, hahaha, how did you find out?"
"Nah, it doesn't take a detective. Didn't you see him in the back staring at that picture?"
Calming down, the other asked, "You mean the one with Basil of Baker Street, Flaversham's daughter, and the old mouse?"
"No, the one with Basil of Baker Street and all the little pixies fluttering everywhere!" Came the sarcastic response. "Course I mean that one! The bat can't take his eyes off the lady! I even saw him trying to cuddle up with'er!"
They both started laughing at the lovesick bat's expense again. Olivia had all but forgotten about that photograph. After Basil had ingeniously managed to save himself and Dawson from the trap Ratigan had ensnared them in, he'd gathered the old doctor and herself together with him just before the camera - which had been a finishing touch on the trap - went off. Neither Olivia nor Dawson had been prepared for it, and so while Basil, in the middle of the trio and with his arms around their shoulders, had a camera-ready smile on his face, they on the other hand looked a bit dazed and confused. She almost chuckled at the memory, before she remembered she had to be quiet.
Olivia wondered if the picture had been moved from the area where the trap had been set. If not, and if Fidget was still looking at it, she might be able to sneak past these fellows and get to him yet. Over near the grate through which she'd arrived, there were a couple of large wooden human crates. If she could get over there discreetly and run behind them, she could probably make it work.
She inhaled strongly, then gripped her parasol a bit tighter in her right hand, and gathered up her skirts in the other, and made off.
"Say, did you see that?" she heard the one in the striped shirt say.
"What?"
"Somebody just ran behind those crates! An intruder!"
"What if it's the police?" The short one sounded worried.
"One bluebottle* scampering about like that? I doubt it. But he might be here to ransack the place. Let's get him."
"Oh dear," Olivia thought, "now what do I do?"
She decided the best thing to do was to keep going; she might be able to outpace them. If she could reach Fidget before they got her, he would help her.
No such luck. They had wisely chosen to cut her off in the direction she was headed. Olivia gasped in shock as they snatched her, and tried to beat them with her umbrella.
"Where do ya think you're - why you're a lady!" The short one exclaimed. Olivia lowered her arms from her attack pose as they recognized her.
"Flaversham's daughter!" Both mice took their hats off and bowed.
"Yes, that is right," Olivia replied.
"B-but Miss, what could possibly bring you back here?" the mouse in the striped shirt asked.
"I-" she thought over her words carefully. "I am here to see Fidget."
Both stared at her wide-eyed. Then as if forgetting she was there, they turned to each other; the short one saying, "Ya hear that? She wants to see him! It goes either way! The lad's done himself real good, even with a mug like his!"
Olivia had not forgotten that just days ago she had dismissed Fidget's visage as unattractive herself, but now she was incited at hearing her beloved insulted like that. "I imagine if you were a bat yourself, you'd be quite delighted to have a face such as his," she said curtly.
The short fellow was put in his place. Looking apologetically at her, he and his friend placed their hats atop their heads again. "If you want to see him, we'll show you to him." They each took her by the arm with unexpected gentility. They were really nice men at heart. Olivia thought there must be an interesting story behind how they came to work for the most wanted criminal mastermind in England, no, Britain's history. Back to the matter at hand, however, she hoped they would not stick around after she reunited with Fidget, she felt nervous enough about what she planned to do, without any spectators…
/
The moment he'd recollected the existence of that photograph, Fidget had picked himself up and gone out to look at it. It was not much, but any substitute for being near Olivia would do. He sat cross-legged on the paved floor of the sewer, in front of her image, staring up into those big eyes he'd come to cherish so.
He told himself on the night of Queen Mousetoria's jubilee, as he took his time in the Rat Trap Saloon, waiting for Basil to try to come and nail Ratigan, that he could never see Olivia again; it would be too painful. But when he was freeing himself from his bonds later, at Buckingham Palace, and he'd seen her watching him, spellbound, he had instantly trashed the thought. He knew this was a woman he would have to steal every opportunity he could to see, to be near.
Those lips. Those delicate, soft, tender lips. Why had he not kissed her on the mouth last night? He'd been itching to do it again ever since he first tried it. Maybe because she wanted to go home, and if he had kissed her like that, he wouldn't have been able to stop. Here was her picture, however… maybe he could get some satisfaction out of…
He tried for several minutes, but it just wasn't the same. He needed the real thing. He resumed sitting down and fixing his gaze on Olivia's picture, wishing for the real thing.
Who knew how much later it was that, like a miracle, he heard her voice. He turned first his ears, then his head in the direction it came from. He heard two of the other thugs talking to her, heard her say she wanted to see him, heard her defend him from their snides about his appearance (which caused him to smiled in the most comely fashion he had in a long time), and he heard them say they'd take her to him.
"Fidget!" She cried as she ran out of their grasp and over to him. The look on his face as he ran to meet her was elevating. The lovers locked into each other's arms/wings upon impact. They stayed like that for a moment, until Fidget became aware that the men mice were still present. Olivia looked down at his half-frightened, half-scowling face, and said, "Fidget, they already know. They figured it out for themselves."
"Er, right," the one in the striped shirt said, scratching his nape. "Well, I, uh, think we'd better go." He turned to leave, then looked back at his companion, who still had a look of disbelief on his face, staring at the young lovers.
"Come on," he said, grabbing the short thug by the arm and dragging him away.
"I just don't get it," the short one muttered. "What does a nice little thing like her see in a guy like Fidget? She practically towers over him!"
Fidget had never really thought about that before. Now, as the others went out of their range, he glanced up and down Olivia. Yeah, she was a little taller than him, well, about a head's worth, but she was still rather short for a mouse. As for his own stature, he couldn't help it. Bats, at least the ones in this region of England, were small. He was about the height his father had been, and his father had apparently been tall for their sort.
Anyway, neither Fidget nor Olivia could have cared less. Being together again was first on their minds. Fidget didn't even stop to wonder how safe Olivia's journey here had been; he had a hankering for her that would not quit. As she tried to ask how he was feeling, after his fall into the Thames, he interrupted her by pulling her down and fusing with her orally.
Olivia responded for a while, then finally pulled away and said, "Fidget, I came here tonight because Father and I are going away to Scotland for the summer."
Fidget's face darkened ever so subtly at this news. Olivia went on, "I had to see you one more time before we left, but… um, that's… not all."
Now that she was here, she suddenly did not know what to say. It was more difficult to propose the next part of her plan when actually in person with Fidget. How would she say this?
"Uh, what's wrong?"
"Fidget," she herself fidgeted with her umbrella, "you know I could never be with another man, now that we've…"
"Heheheh, yeah!" Fidget grinned childishly. He was glad to hear her say it.
"And um, when a man and woman love each other, of course they'd normally be married, but even if they weren't…" Good grief, she'd never had this much trouble articulating before.
Fidget picked up on the discomfort of the situation. "Uh, heheheh, exactly what're you getting at?"
"Have you ever thought of being a father?" She asked directly.
Fidget blinked. "Uh, um, well," he looked away from her and puzzled over this. A father? But in order to become a parent, didn't one have to… was that what she was trying to suggest? That they… oh dear. Fidget was aware of the basics of intercourse, but though he'd occasionally experienced hormonal tensions throughout his teens, and though in the lifestyle and class he belonged to there was ample opportunity, he'd never actually done it.
"Y-you wanna - well how - how, uh, how would we start?" Fidget turned back to her.
"You've never been…" Olivia still spoke with shyness on the topic, though she was determined to do it, "you mean you never have?"
"Nope." Fidget shook his head. Olivia was delighted to hear this; knowing Fidget was at the bottom of the pillar, and that men, especially those low down, often enjoyed the pursuit of paramours, she'd not been sure whether he had been used or not. It was good to know that as she gave him her virginity, so he would give her his.
"And wait, wait! Isn't it supposed to be bad to do that if we're not married?"
"I've thought about it all day, Fidget," Olivia explained. "I've decided if we can't get married, the very least we can do is yield a child. And my father has wanted a grandchild for years now, but I just couldn't bring myself to give him one with any other man. It will be covered for a while, at least; it shouldn't become noticeable until we come back from Scotland."*
"Yeah, but what about then?"
"Then… I suppose I'll have to say I am married, but my husband is still in Scotland. Don't worry, I can think of a reason for that in due time."
Fidget comprehended all of this. To be a father. With the woman he loved as the mother of his child. He didn't want Olivia to get caught in a scandal, which if unearthed, the truth about how it happened could only lead to, but she seemed bent on this idea, and he was tempted by it too.
"But Fidget, we can't do it here. Not with those thugs - those men around."
"Heh, guess not. Well, uh, there's the boss's old room -"
"No Fidget, I don't want to conceive in any room where that wicked Professor dwelled," Olivia cringed, "besides, if it is around here, it wouldn't do anyhow. Depending on how… ahem, how long we were, it would increase the risk of others finding out."
"Hmmm… oh! Oh! Wait a moment!" Fidget said. "Most of us were arrested, so a lot of the houses are empty!"
"Houses?"
"Yeah! Most of the guys lived down here in the sewer, coz either they were too poor to live anywhere else or it was just to keep an eye on them, you know?"
Olivia wasn't sure how much she liked the idea of conceiving in a strange cottage in the sewer of all places, but then, if she wasn't then she should have considered that before she came. Oh well, she guessed it was a small sacrifice that would have to be made.
/
The place they now stood together in was indeed strange, and quite dusty and unkempt. Lighted by a single kerosene lamp on the table near the stove, a few inches away,* Olivia grimaced at the state of the one-room house. But it would have to do, she thought as she turned back to Fidget.
"So uh, what do we do now?"
Olivia came over to him and gently placed her hand on his chest. "Do you feel that, Fidget?"
"Really nice," he smiled as he laid his own hand over hers.
"My dear, do you not feel energy through our contact? A thrill? Does your heart not beat much faster when you are with me?"
"Well yeah, it does."
"It's the same for me. And we can use this." Her voice was soft and rich with budding desire. Without another word, she instigated the process by leaning over and kissing him.
None of their kisses had ever been shy, as would have been expected for those inexperienced. The first, second, and now third times they'd both participated with purpose; each knew what they wanted from the other and how to get it. Each became simultaneously even greedier and more generous with each kiss. As if trying to consume each other's mouths, they crushed themselves together, tongue on tongue, sharp teeth against square, eyes shut; experiencing all pleasure and feeding all need through sensation of touch, bodies bound so tight by arm and wing as to leave little hope of separation.
Olivia dropped to her knees, so as to allow Fidget to lean over her, that she may know how it felt when the man towered over the woman. They did not break away from each other for one second as she did so, only adjusted. It felt like minutes, then hours, then days went by, then suddenly, their desires grew used to their current activity. The age-old instinct of true love that had now aroused inside them became hungrier, it would not be satiated by mere kissing anymore. Time to advance.
"Mmmm, oh! Oh, Fidget! You must get my dress off!" Olivia pleaded, pulling away from him and staring up at him with eyes glazed and dilated by love and passion. She felt a wetness developing between her legs, and knew from reading that it would not be long.
Fidget had been disconcerted in a disillusioned manner when she had pulled away, but now his interests changed their tune. To see Olivia in the nude! He knew full well how her dress shaped her body, but women apparently would dress in deceptive ways, including the use of undergarments that reshaped their figures. Now he could see for himself what she was really like underneath; his curiosity was peaked.
She knelt there, waiting as he got down on his right knee, fumbling with the buttons of her coat - in his excitement he wasn't too sharp with buttons. After he'd gotten the first three from the top down undone in about the amount of time he should have gotten the whole coat off her, she began assisting him - they would undress her together.
He was much more efficient at slipping and sliding her clothes off, and soon her coat was shed, and her dress, her underclothes, her boots, and her stockings. She stood up straight in all her female glory, petite for a mouse, but healthy; slender, curvaceous, with silken fur that glistened in the lamp's dim light.
Fidget, after a lifetime of exposure to filth and grime, was rather a heavy breather, but it reached a new level as he stood there, awestruck by her beauty. Now she was displaying a bit of shyness by draping her slim tail down one of her shapely legs.
Fidget's attraction to female legs was purely coincidental to his own lack of half his right. His gaze had always been transfixed on the showgirls in the Rat Trap, when they lifted their skirts up (or took them off altogether) and strutted or danced about onstage, showing those important appendages of motion off for all who wanted to see.
Olivia's were better, he thought, than any he'd ever seen. Long in proportion to her body, with delicate but sturdy and well-sculpted calves. Her thighs were not fat, but full, and met when she stood up. Good. Women should not have gaps between their thighs when they legs were not separated; when they did they looked skinny and undurable.
Fidget laughed quietly in amazement. "Y-you know you're… you're perfect!" he gasped.
She smiled. She curled up on the bed and invited him over, allowing him to feel and taste her perfection, chuckling and moaning thickly as he explored her body from head to toe. Fidget allowed his instincts to take over, kissing the hollow of her neck, nuzzling its softness, then working down to her full breasts, not overly large, not too small, just right. He licked at her nipples; he'd never tasted his mother's milk as an infant, and did not even know milk came out of women's breasts, so he could not have explained the primitive appeal they held for him.*
Olivia felt her body convulse with response to Fidget's ticklish kisses, impressed caresses, and occasional nips with his sharp teeth. True his bites, though mild, shocked her nerves, and true the throb in her groin was growing stronger with arousal, but she was enjoying every minute of it. Fidget had now worked past her lovely, tiny waist, down her full, rounded hips, and was adventuring along those tantalizing legs. There needed be no telling of the story behind it, those legs were just made for his hands to stroke, for his mouth to taste.
Eventually Olivia stirred, and said, "Now, it's my turn."
"Oh?" Fidget looked up from his fun, a little surprised. It made sense though; he'd have to shed his clothing if they were to join at some point along this road, and after she'd given him so much of herself already, it was only fair that he give her just as much of himself. Plus, he liked the idea of those soft, lovely lips trailing him all over, having their way with him.
He pulled his cap off and tossed it willy-nilly to the side. She then joined him in removing his sweater, his trousers, and his underwear. Soon he was every bit as naked as she was. Though she said nothing, her eyes gazed at his thinness with love-induced fury. He had almost no fat on him, she realized as she saw the outline of his ribs. Was he really that hard-done by life? His leanness spoke of years of emaciation, but he was not without muscle. One of the first things she'd noticed about him were the muscles in his wings. They were sinewy, but they left no doubt of their presence. As she remembered watching him defy the ropes that had tied him in Buckingham Palace in seconds, she knew she had to get better acquainted with them, and knelt on the bed, face to face with him, and stroking first one then the other wing.
"You're very strong, Fidget," she whispered, leaning her head against his right biceps.
"Heh, thanks."
"Mmmm…" she moaned as the wing she was loving at this moment curled around her back, then garnered support from the other wing. Warm inside his embrace, she tracked her passionate kisses along his shoulder, around his collarbone, and down his chest. He had a strong, well-built chest, as bats generally had; after his crippled wing had prevented him from flying properly, his father had taught him a number of exercises to build up his wing and chest muscles, now that he could not rely on flight to do it for him.
Fidget lay down and let Olivia crawl ontop of him, grinning wide-mouthed with his eyes closed as she explored his body in a way reminiscent of how he'd ventured over hers only minutes ago. She stroked his right ear, gently fingering the notch as though her touch might seal it. This bat's ear was so different from a mouse's. It intrigued her. It was designed for excellent hearing. She felt the cartilaginous rivets tunnelling down through the ear, then the thought occurred that she could sense its feel better with her tongue. Licking his ear tickled Fidget, and he started laughing. She laughed at his laughter, then pulled away, leaving the right ear cool and damp with her saliva, and smiled. "Now the other one!" She grinned devilishly, and made true her words.
When she was done with the ears, Olivia continued with getting to know the rest of this bat. She brushed her hand over his taut, slightly caved stomach, scaled his narrow hips with both her hands, and ran them down and up his left leg. She glanced piteously at the peg which replaced his right leg halfway down, but dismissed it and felt the part of that limb which was still a real member of his body.
Fidget had gone hard the moment he saw Olivia naked, and had her intent been to undo that occurrence, she was going about it all wrong. Luckily that was not what she was trying for at all. His mind puzzled over this strange tight feeling in his groin during the moments he was not focused on Olivia's beauty, or the pleasure he felt from having her touch him in ways and places no woman ever had before. He eventually came to notice the hardness pulsed in keeping with each advance she made on him, and the throbbing sensation which accompanied it became more acute the closer her mouth or her hands came to it, so he decided it must be part of the game of intimacy.
When each had had their fill of the other's body, it was back to the mouths. Their bodies blended with each other even better now that they were nude, and the heat from their longing was making them sweat. The dampness in Olivia's nether region could no longer be kept discreet if she tried, it was any time now.
For Fidget, it was as if his instincts had been watching over his actions like proud mentors, but were now giving him a gentle, encouraging shove. "It's, it's time isn't it?" he rasped.
"Mmm-hmmm!" Olivia moaned in delight. The moment had arrived. She rolled off of him and let him get on top of her, splaying her legs to welcome him. Part of Fidget wanted to hesitate, seeing her lubricated womanhood waiting for him, and part wanted to proceed faster than the speed of light. That part of him had been right so far, so he went with it.
It hurt, as she knew it would, but her cry was not pained, rather ecstatic. That was the last time, for the remainder of their intimacy, that they kept their mouths to themselves. Marriage or no marriage, they officially lay as would a husband and wife now. And they enjoyed it. This sin was heaven for them tonight. The fire! The magma! The electricity! The storming sea! It all brewed within them, it made their bodies twist, arch, and contort around (what a beating the bed was taking!) and it was like magic. They had long forgotten that they weren't technically supposed to be doing this; what did custom know, anyway? God had made them love each other so that it was right for them to do this only with each other, and given their circumstances, hopefully He'd forgive them for doing it before the final permitting contract was signed.
Their bodies finally divided from their unison a long time later, but they felt as though the party was just getting started. Repeating all those gestures they'd earlier found pleased each other so much, they worked their way up to the summit once more, and did it all over again. And again. And again.
/
It must have been around four in the morning when the high they shared finally wore down. Exhaustion had already kept them lying still, under the blanket on the bed, Olivia nestled in Fidget's wings and her head pillowed on his neck, for about an hour. Fidget had fallen asleep, but she was awake. It seemed a little backward; she who would normally be sleeping at this hour was wide awake, and he who was normally awake was sleeping like a baby. She smiled over what they'd done. He had been no baby the past few hours. They had been as much a man and woman as they could possibly get.
She chuckled quietly as she remembered what he'd said, when they finally had no more energy to keep going. He hadn't seen until then that she was bleeding, and it had scared him. What had he done wrong? He had stammered, "I've hurt you! I-I'm so sorry! I d-I didn't mean to-"
"Hush darling," she'd sighed. "That always happens to the woman the first time. I'll be alright."
"Y-you sure?"
"Yes. What you gave me tonight is the most wonderful gift you ever could." Fidget, hearing this, was a bit confused as to how something she enjoyed so much could make her bleed, but she was clearly happy and in no distress, so he relaxed.
Now, Olivia suddenly could no longer rest. She felt a queasiness come over her, and her stomach began to churn. She groaned, and eased her way softly but quickly out of Fidget's embrace. He awoke with a start, and looked on in fear as Olivia got up and tried to take a few steps, then keeled over and retched onto the floor.
"What's happened? What's wrong?" He tried to flutter over to her in his excitement, then collapsed onto the floor himself. Picking himself up, he scrambled over to her, taking her shoulders and looking at her fearfully. She was pale, and quivering slightly, and coughing on the sour taste of her vomit, and yet she was smiling. Wonders would never cease. Was this connected with what they'd just done? Why was intercourse so hard on women?
"It's alright, my love," she gasped, her smile persevering. Before emptying her innards through the passage by which they'd once been filled, again, she whispered, "This only confirms our success. We have a child."
AN: They actually have two, as was revealed in Masked Mouse's now-vanished story. Originally I'd planned to make a third chapter to this story, but I never was quite able to develop a suitable concept. The story as is basically covers what I meant to cover, however, and I have no further inspiration on the topic, so after three years I've finally decided to just call it done.
Now, with that settled, I shall dutifully explain the details behind those parts of the story I've marked with an asterisk:
1. She's thinking "if he really had been in cahoots with Ratigan", because Basil and Dawson's account of what happened to them in the bar that night gives a strong implication of such. It makes sense, seeing as the thugs seem to use the saloon as part of a passage to and from Ratigan's lair, as well as a hangout during periods of leisure.
2. So it seems as if Fidget's name, though not quite as much of a sensation amongst the Rat Trap patrons as Professor Ratigan's, is definitely reckoned with by them!
3. As stated in Wikipedia, that's an outdated British slang term for a policeman, but I believe it was used around that time. Since I learned about the term, I've taken to using it, myself! :P
4. So the reason she ultimately decided to have sex with him is because, along with all the sentiments surrounding having offspring with him, she feels that her trip to Scotland will be able to provide unrivalled hush-up opportunites. She hasn't yet figured out what to do if the child/children she bears possess their father's features, however.
5. Remember that for these species, an inch is a much greater distance that it is for a human. I don't know what units of measurement they'd use, so I'm measuring these distances from a human perspective.
6. A theory my mother told me about why men have a sexual fascination with women's breasts is that they subconsciously recall being nursed through their mothers' breasts, and they know if their seed finds purchase inside a woman, that's where their children will receive their first nourishment.