Since I've fallen madly in love with Beau and Vanilla being a couple, I've taken upon myself the task of giving these two love-bunnies another piece of the literary action. I also have a few other ideas on what to do with these two rabbits, so the ending will be somewhat open-ended.
Only Ozzie the mole belongs to me. Everything and everyone else belongs to Archie, the Sonic Team, and SEGA.
Desert, auburn sunlight rose over a small town nestled snugly between the giant sand dunes of the Great Desert as a beautiful, ruby-haired lady rabbit traversed the front porch of a small, modest-looking country-style house, the heels of her shoes clanking against the wood as the vibrant sounds of conversations from various locals reverberated through the warm, arid air. The lapine halted her walk, just behind the porch's railing, her russet eyes pausing to take in the old-fashioned scenery.
Oh, how it took her breath away, even after all those years of abandonment! Nothing—absolutely nothing—brought more nostalgia to Vanilla Rabbit than the sights and sounds of her childhood home.
Just across from her stood the old general store, once as skeletal and deserted as the rest of the town had been during Robotnik then Eggman's fateful reign of terror...but now refurnished and resurrected from its desolate slumber, much to the euphoria of the returned inhabitants. The plethora of eager customers and visitors were undeniable testimony to that recently newborn fact. Non-Mobian horses trotted up and down the road, insouciantly and gaily on their merry way. Though the pale-blue sky overhead brimmed with clouds that blocked out the sun's warmth and light, Vanilla remained under the roof-extension that served as an awning; she was none too keen on receiving cloud sunburn all because of habit-induced overconfidence.
Out of the peripheral of her eyes, Vanilla peeked at her shadow, the elongated umbra trailing from her feet like an intangible hour hand—almost 12'o clock, according to her discerning. A tiny frown came across the doe's dainty face.
'He's almost late,' she observed with concern. Odd...that man's always particular about being punctual. What on Mobius could be holding him up?
"Mommy...?"
"Hmm...Oh, Cream!—is something the matter, sweetie?" Vanilla had just turned to discover her eleven-year old daughter standing right behind her. The petite rabbit girl, dressed in an orange, knee-length, and loose-fitting dress (she had truly grown in the past year), simple, sky-blue sneakers, and a dark red handkerchief (a last year birthday present and hand-me down from a certain Southern gentleman) around her neck in place of her former blue ascot, was wringing her hands in a nervous fashion, her similarly colored eyes illuminating with what looked like worry.
"Daddy's coming home, isn't he?"
Her mother couldn't help giggling at the address meant to indicate the buck whose heart the older woman inadvertently captured long ago. 'The wedding preparations aren't even halfway finished, and she's already calling Beau her father.'
Then again, the mother rabbit couldn't say she was surprised at this long-standing development. In fact, feelings of good nature between her fiancé and her daughter went both ways: just as Cream admired Beauregard—something the young kit had been doing ever since meeting the older rabbit after her and her friends' successful play—so, too, did the Southern lapine dote upon the younger rabbit as a true, loving dad would upon his baby girl...tight hugs, slobbery kisses, and mushy, cutesy nicknames included.
Yet time and time again, Vanilla couldn't help but pause upon catching a glimpse of sadness that would flash in Beau's eyes, only to then flicker away just as quickly, hidden away beneath layers of happiness and content.
Bunny, all her kidding about "getting jealous of the little darlin' and all the attention she was gettin'" aside, at one point mentioned to Vanilla the tragic story of the miscarriage Beau's first wife, Lulumae, ended up suffering through...and the resultant loss of the unfortunate couple's newborn son. Never would the cybernetic Southern Belle forget the haunting howls and cries she heard from her place in her childhood room that fateful night...or the sore redness that dominated her beloved uncle's eyes the following—and just as heart-wrenching—morning.
That tragedy proved the true frailness of the ex-Baron's war-hardened heart...punctured by something not even the sharpest of bayonets could compare to...which is why Vanilla, all reservations aside and from the very first time the fatherly affection began, never made a single move that displayed disapproval towards the love blossoming between her prospective husband and her daughter.
'He's already been through enough pain; it would be cruel to deny him whatever happiness he's been blessed with.' Vanilla tenderly smiled as she bent her knees a bit to be more eye-level with her child. "Of course he is, dear. No matter what, I just know he's doing all he can to reach us."
"Yeah, don't sweat nuthin', Cream Pie!" an upbeat, femininely Southern-accented added as its source, a third rabbit, strolled from the left side of the house. Donned in a medium-pink bikini and sporting three cybernetic limbs—her right arm and both legs—the blonde-furred beauty flipped her wavy, sunlight hair from her stunning emerald eyes as she took a seat in a porch bench standing right behind Vanilla and Cream. "Uncle Beau's always a fighter when it comes to bein' on time! Heck, when I was your age, he fought through a mall on Black Friday once—almost got himself trampled, too—just to get a birthday present for yours truly."
All three women giggled at the story, the oldest and youngest of them not the least bit surprised at the idea of Beauregard Lee Rabbot subjecting his being to such "perilous" obstacles for his family.
Just then, a mighty neigh sailed from across the windswept horizon. Vanilla, Cream, and Bunnie, their collective laughter interrupted by the sound, shot their visual focuses to the origin of the sound: a dark, able-bodied equine bounding across the sandy landscape and towards the town, snorting fiercely and proudly, its glossy mane blowing gracefully from the strong winds...a familiar buck seated boldly atop its back and gripping its reigns with mastery deserving to be envied...
Bunnie was the first one to greet the man as the mighty chestnut stallion halted in front of the front steps, its benign snorts almost as if beckoning the three women to approach. "Uncle Beau!" the ecstatic dame exclaimed as she bound her dismounted favorite relative in a fierce hug that nearly deprived the unprepared fellow's lungs. Beau still managed a smile, never one to forget his dear niece.
"Easy, now, Buns," Beau managed to joke after a slightly strained chuckle even though he hardly appeared to struggle with reciprocating the hug, "ya' got this ol' man in a chokehold!"
Bunnie immediately loosened her grip on the elder rabbit, even though she knew very well her grip had been very mild in the squeezing exerted. One aspect that never changed about her uncle: his sense of humor.
Up next was Cream. The speed at which she dashed towards the man would have made Sonic the Hedgehog proud of her.
"Daddy!"
"Hey, Creamie, c'mere, ya little—" Beau's smile shone with an illumination sure to put the Sun and its sister stars to shame as he eagerly scooped the young girl into his sinewy arms and held onto her tiny form as if she were an invaluable treasure—and in Beau's shimmering, steel-blue eyes, Cream might as well been. The two rabbits maintained their strong grips on each other as Beau spun in circles, his chuckles and Cream's tittering swirling in audible duets that soared to the heavens above, ready to proclaim their heartfelt joy to the gods above.
Then his eyes caught the observing pupils of his love...his angel of mercy...dress and crimson hair billowing in the wind like an angelic cloak and hood...russet eyes full of maternal content and satisfaction...resoluteness in kindness manifested in a physical form so breathtaking...all made even more perfect and divine by the glow of the slowly soaring sun...
The ex-Baron knew his fate was sealed the moment the holder of his heart spoke his name, his whole soul and being already ensnared by the emotional lasso spun by the three women congregated around him.
"Beauregard."
And he could have disregarded the end of the universe for all the rest of the world mattered.
"Vanilla."
Modesty was never far from Vanilla or vice versa; the cozy, little house's interior proved that fact very well. Beau chuckled to himself as he slipped his black boots off, revealing two coarse, sweaty, impurely white socks, and shrugged away his brown duster jacket and hung it upon a nearby coat hanger. The notches of the rabbit's back popped and cracked from the lithe stretch administered to them.
'Damn, that feels good! Ah didn' realize how long Ah was crouchin' over that there horse out there.'
The clink-clank of high-heel shoes gave away the identity of the woman just behind Beau (the buck was currently facing the door) before she even spoke. All the same, though, Beau held no qualms against his lover snaking her arms under his to massage the strained chest muscles that lay underneath the thin white, collared shirt. Beauregard resisted the urge to growl by drowning it in his throat before slowly turning himself around in Vanilla's gentle grasp and slipping his own arms around the doe's pleasingly plump waist.
Neither rabbit uttered a sound nor a word; they didn't even smile. They merely remained where they were in the "mini-hallway," coffee earth and titanium ocean courting and dancing around each other...like two long-time friends blanketed by the planet's silence, two drastically different seasons back to back...
A man once surrounded by war and shadow, torn from the fragile and precarious peace he and his ancestors had known for centuries, thanks in no small part to the once ongoing tensions between the Southern Baronies and the Kingdom of Acorn...
A woman born into peace and sunlight, reared to appreciate and cherish both the natural beauty of the world all Mobians and humans had been blessed with and the connections between family and friends, regardless of the curve balls fate had been tossing her way as of the past couple of years...
Yet for all these differences mattered...they only gave added strength to the force binding the hearts of these two lapines together.
In Vanilla's warm chocolate eyes, Beauregard could see the future. He could see visions of laughter with his new family, both old and new, members brought together by blood, marriage, or even past circumstances. He could see joy, celebrations, and hope—all these qualities reflected at him and more.
In Beau's cool azure eyes, Vanilla could see the past. She saw flashes of peace and content shattered by loss and agony. She saw hearts and families broken apart by war and misfortune—some losses mendable, others...simply not so.
The urge to delve deeper into the other's mind intoxicated the couple's entire existences. Shivers ran up Beau's spine at the warmth elicited by Vanilla's breath, the expelled air stroking the buck's cheek like a gentle summer breeze. Short gasps of anticipation escaped Vanilla at the fierce, animal-like drive behind the ex-Baron's neutral sapphires, the man's grip on her waist and now back as confident and masterful as it had been on the horse's reigns.
At last...they smiled. Foreheads pressed against one another in pure, unadulterated affection...deep-seated chuckles and dainty giggles pirouetting into the air in perfect unison...
If only they could remain this way forever...
"Ahem."
But, alas, this tender moment had to draw to an inevitable close. Beauregard Rabbot and Vanilla Rabbit tensed immediately upon hearing the accidently-on-purpose cough that had originated from the entrance to the living room. Too mortified to think an excuse for their visually suggestive positions and actions, the two, wide-eyed rabbits reluctantly turned their heads in the direction of the sound.
The former Grandmaster swore he'd never blushed so hard in his life!
Standing right before rabbit couple, the attending audience stood in the entrance in stark silence, each of its members displaying various amounts of shock, embarrassment, or, in the case of the last one, amusement.
On the leftmost side, Bunnie stood with her arms crossed, both her face and her mind struggling between cooing at the touching scene and chortling at how the two adults just managed to get themselves caught during such a moment of passion.
To the cybernetic cowgirl's right, a male coyote with short, stylishly cut, blonde hair and wearing a simple pair of blue shorts, a red T-shirt, and a pair of dark brown shoes stared at the couple in unprepared shock, his crystal blue eyes wide at a scene he certainly would have never imagined, especially not with a former sub-boss of Eggman's legion involved.
Next up were none other than Cream and Cheese, the former clasping her hands before her mouth, trying in vain to the hide the tiny smile on her muzzle, while the sky-blue cherub merely watched the two lapines staring back in frozen action, diminutive mouth agape and not bound to be closing anytime soon.
To the left of the munchkin duo stood a young, carnation hedgehog with short, bob-cut style hair, red hairband, eyes the color of summer forests, red go-go boots adorned with white fringes and vertical stripes, and a carmine dress that billowed from the waist to just above the knees like the petals of a rose in full bloom. Like Cream, she, too, had her own gloved hands clasped in front of her mouth, except there was no smile on her countenance—only eyes full of surprise.
After the teen girl were two armadillos. The first one was the taller one of the pair—ebony body, intensely red shell, two ears perking out from under said shell, peach light brown underbelly, and medium blue eyes. Unlike the coyote, he wore no clothes save for red-and-white shoes completely identical to those worn by Sonic the Hedgehog and a common pair of white gloves. All he did was stand in place, arms limp and to the sides, his widened eyes blinking every once in a while, too transfixed by the sight of the Baron's obvious moves on Vanilla to even consider speaking—or what to speak for that matter.
Continuing on in the line-up, next up was a shorter, green-shelled, female version of the first armadillo, dressed in a dark-grey T-shirt, black pants, and medium grey shoes. Her emerald eyes, despite her youth, usually held traces of wisdom and experience not commonly found in someone of her age and held a consistent blankness that most folks would easily mistake for expressionlessness ...now, though, there instead lay nothing but speechlessness and wonder. Her black-and-red Big-O fashioned arms were crossed behind her back in uncertainty, their wide-eyed owner at a complete loss at what to say. Her mouth repeatedly opened and closed, the words present in her mind but never able to vocalize into reality.
Penultimate was a young, yellow-furred flying squirrel clad in a sky blue jacket and light blue shoes (each vertically marked by one white stripe), both articles of clothing matching his baby cerulean irises. His great, bushy tail twitched in nervousness and he rubbed one of his arms with the opposing hand, the mammal sharing the red-shelled armadillo's stupor at the ex-Baron's behavior, but also anxious of the response to come from the Rabbot himself.
Last (but certainly not least)—and by far the hardest for Beau or Vanilla to look at right now—was a short, stocky, peach-underbelly mole clad in only white gloves and red shoes, each of the latter adorned with a vertical yellow stripe down the middle and metal-spiked soles. He was standing a bit further back than the other young spectators...but only because he needed room to hold his sides in and keep his blocky wrist communicator, which sat on his right arm, from bursting out in static-entrenched laughter.
Eight faces, eight expressions...one giant elephant in the room...and Beau, for all his military expertise, had not the slightest idea of how to fix this fine kettle of fish with only minimal humiliation.
So imagine the elder's further chagrin the second Bunnie, his own kin, opened her graceful, smirking mouth and wittingly stated, "Ya'll sure you don' wanna take this someplace less...crowded?"
Needless to say...Bunnie's advice turned out to be helpful...extremely helpful.
Beauregard and Vanilla, after leaving the house in their stupor of shock, not even bothering to give so much as an explanation (even though Beau did throw a mild glare Antoine's way the moment the coyote parted his lips to speak), sat upon the front porch of the house, the sun already beginning its return to the horizon, as evidenced by the shifting shadows.
Neither adult dared to make so much as a peep, each one afraid of what the other could be thinking—Beau about how Vanilla must be upset at him for allowing them to be caught in such a tender situation (and by the young ones, no less!); Vanilla, how unnecessarily regretful Beau must feel concerning her feelings over said embarrassment.
In a sudden, simultaneous burst of tension-induced acquiescence, both rabbits faced each other, prepared to put the recent affair behind them...
"Now, Vanilla, listen..."
"Beau, I need to you to listen..."
...only to stop right then and there, greatly shocked yet pleasantly impressed by how their minds seemed to almost read off of and be in sync with each other.
Beau looked to the ground and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly; Vanilla looked to the sky and blushed, her hands picking at her gloves out of habit. The buck kind of accidently-on-purpose scooted his body half an inch closer to Vanilla. The lady lapine pretended her blush, which now glowed hotter and redder, didn't exist at all.
"Shucks...darn kids...had to ruin the moment," Beau joked in a good-natured tone as he shook his head in bemusement, even though a touch of nervousness remained in his eyes. Vanilla, in a likewise effort to water down the tautness, giggled behind her hand before looking back at Beau with a happy and relieved smile.
"Perhaps it was for the best," the doe commented. At Beau's confused stare, Vanilla elaborated. "Bunnie had a point about how public you and I were being." Vanilla giggled once again but stifled the urge to do it any further. "Honestly, that sounds more like what Amy and Ozzie would do...perhaps Bunnie and Antoine even."
To her sudden concern and shock, Beau grimaced, looking away from her, his throat holding back a strong growl...only to close his eyes and release a heavy sigh, unwilling to release the anger in his love's presence. "Ah'm, sorry, Nilly. Guess this ol' cony needs more time adjustin' than he thought."
No more words needed to be said; Vanilla understood all too well. She merely closed the distance between her and the man of her heart, stroking the white fur of Beau's cheek with her fingers, the material of her glove soft and warm against the male's skin. No smile, joking or otherwise, returned to the ex-Baron's face. His face remained as stoic as ever; his expression showed no acknowledgement to the doe's attempts of comfort.
His hands suggested differently.
Before the mother rabbit could blink, she found herself pressed up and hard against Beauregard's firm lips, her squeak coinciding in perfect synchronization and unison with his moans of pleasure.
But once again, Beau moved too fast. Without even giving Vanilla the chance to close her eyes and moan her way into the sensual groove, he parted their lips and stared her hard and long in the eyes, an eye of the hurricane silent in the face of a delicate tulip, even as the storms of the surrounding world continued to whirl around them.
"Woman...you know I'll neva' be able let it go. No matter what, everything mah daddy put in my little head about the Kingdom of Acorn...that's about the damn last I have left of him." His face drew closer and closer, hot, moist breath trickling down Vanilla's face and bringing involuntary shivers down the doe's spine.
"I-I'm sorry, honey," she slowly stuttered...but out of awestruck amour rather than fear. Her mind could barely manage to properly process the energy crackling in her cowboy's voice, the fiery conviction beyond evident in Beau's hard metal eyes—by his mere iron touch...
At last, Beau's lips upturned into a smile...but not out of happiness—oh no. Something sizzled from the way his midnight-ebony nose twitched and flared with deep, forceful exhales of air...his sinewy muscles flexing in and out as his hold on his future wife drew their flesh more and more in...his diamond-shaped ears twitching in an excitement akin to that of a hungry wolf with its helpless prey in its paws...
"Neva' be. Not about that. Don' ever—and I mean ever—believe you have a place in that goddamn hate still alive in me. You were neva' there. You neva' lived the hell I did. My daddy was a kind soul, a loving soul...and he died believing what our ancestors believed in—right at the hands of a D'Coolette." The rage returned...his voice trembled dangerously..."My brother—Bunnie's daddy—was smarter than that. He loved Daddy, too...but he also knew who was right. I didn't. Not a little boy that wanted his father back."
Beau shook his head in rueful memory...His tears fell in silence..."Oh God save me...I'll neva' let what I loss go..." Those eyes that always used to smile at him, hollow and dead...the blood of his father spilled across the barren earth, tainting the soil with crimson tears...his own innocence-shattered tears, reverting him from thirteen all the way back to three...even as shouts and cries echoed all around him, his fallen parent now to be counted among the dead...
The soldiers dragging him away...regardless of his screaming protests...his truculent cries...his piteous pleading to stay with the man left to rot in the smoke and ashes...
And now Bunnie...claimed by someone kin to his father's slayer...the thought almost escaped him as retch every time he saw that boy's face...
The worst part: Antoine never returned the hostility back. He never struck back or talked back. The damn boy merely took it in stride and shrugged it off. He drove Beau utterly insane that way...and a tiny part of the rabbit wanted to thank him for that. Wanted to thank him and let go of everything tied to that hate and hurt...
Not forget...simply let go...that was all.
"Beau..."
No one tore away from anyone. Hands sank into the fur of Beau's cheek. The angel in his arms spoke lowly but clearly, her voice silk to ears once familiar only the drums and gunshots of war. Bold earth into crumbling iron...
"You told me once—a long time ago— that some are long past being saved. I think I know how to save you."
"Are ya sure about this, Nilly? You still got a chance to think this ova'."
From the thick, downturned eyebrows to the soft frown, one needn't think hard or long to deduce Beauregard's evident concern. There were so many complications that could result from what he and she were about to indulge in. Would the boons of their potential mating outweigh the risks and sacrifices? What would they do if this experience resulted in—?
Beau didn't dare venture down that dark line of thought. Instead, he chose to distract himself by watching Vanilla whose slim, silkily smooth back almost seemed to beckon to the woman's hesitant other...begging him to accept and participate in the opportunity being presented before him. Indeed, the cowboy's sharp eyes never failed to notice the delicate slope of Vanilla's nape as her hands repeatedly caressed soft, thin shoulders, the lilac nightgown hiding the hidden, sacred beauty lying in wait for its hero to uncover it...
The lady rabbit, with noticeable reluctance, finally tore her gaze away from the evening sky and its iridescent display of salmons, crimsons, tangerines, and goldenrods. Before long, her eyes, too, partook in their visual absorption of the subject of their owner's potential lovemaking...and what a sight Beau was to behold.
Somehow...the sight of his chest expanding and contracting through the thin, white undershirt sent Vanilla's senses wild! How could the sound of one's breathing be enough to ignite her hormones and nearly send her off into a passionate frenzy? Vanilla mustered and exerted all her willpower not to jump right upon Beauregard and...well, allow nature to "take its course."
Yet why shouldn't she feel this way? After all, Beau was a remarkable specimen of a rabbit—lean and tall but strong, well-groomed, and—not to mention—masterful with his sharp, refined expressions and Southern baritone voice. One mere word was always what the man needed to make Vanilla melt like her namesake—right in his well-toned arms where he wanted her.
More than just his looks...He was a tough, honest, fair, and well-disciplined gentleman and, at the same time, kind, honest, trustworthy, loving and brave. Even during his time as Grandmaster, he treated his comrades, subordinates, and rarely, if he deemed so, even his enemies with respect, gratitude, and, most importantly, compassion. Those people serving under the lapine were like family to him because he treated them, led them, and cared for them as such.
Matilda was living proof.
Vanilla knew right then and there that even if no man could ever replace her Peter—just as she, like every other woman, could never hope to replace Lulumae—she'd gladly take Beau as her second chance.
"I already have." She smiled. "And to be honest, Beau...," her graceful steps swished her dress to and fro before the rustling finally ceased in unison with her destination finally being reached. "I don't give a damn."
She undid his shirt and peeled it apart wide enough to reveal the man's furry chest; the mother rabbit gasped a bit at how the ginger evening light, even with the blinds somewhat down, transmuted this man's appearance into something gold yet still sentient...like an act of defiance against King Midas's curse. Beau's warm sigh of pleasured anticipation flowed over Vanilla's head as the female breathed in and out to calm herself...her heart beating from the reality being engendered by her and her cowboy...her nerves tingling like bungee cords stretched to their greatest extent...
'It will be alright. It will be alright. It—will be...' her petite hands sank their fingers into Beau's deep, silky chest fur until they struck muscle, '...alright.'
Beau hitched his breath for a second before releasing it into another sigh. Oh, this felt so good! He'd almost forgotten how nice it felt to receive such affection so intimately. The Southern gentleman, never one to refuse a lady's requests, quickly undid the remainder of his buttons...allowing Vanilla full reign of both his chest and his abdomen. His large hands ached to return the favor...but they remained at bay—for the moment at least. Beau had more control than that...somewhat to his love's dissatisfaction.
Meanwhile, Vanilla giggled, tickled pink at the prospect of being permitted so many opportunities to explore...discover...mark her love upon her enraptured demon like a love-driven teen would chalk her heart's desires upon a hidden, empty brick wall. She felt as if intimacy would not be enough, even if dragged out to intercourse, the practical potential apex of her and Beau's physical relationship.
She didn't simply want him or desire him; she more than hungered for him. She was beyond lusting for him. She...She wanted to follow in the footsteps of one of Loppie Wonder's songs and live inside Beau...to be a part of him...to never have to leave him...even in death.
Only now did Vanilla realize: she could not live without Beauregard Lee Rabbot; he'd become such a significant part of her life that she could hardly remember the conditions of her daily life as they were prior to her and Beau's run-in at the party last a year and a half ago.
A tight embrace engulfed Beau's slim waist...the weight of Vanilla's head smashed into the man's burly chest...tears followed...strangled gasps somewhere in between sobs and moans...Beau grew concerned...
"Nilly...?" He gently tapped her shoulder. "Nill, what's wrong? What's the matta'?"
"I don't deserve this," the distraught doe whispered mournfully against her lover's chest. She continued to cling to his body, his warmth and mere solid presence her only means of mental sanctuary. Beau had practically become her teddy bear now.
'Where the tarnation did that come from? That sure don't sound like Vanilla,' Beauregard commented in his mind as he took one of his large hands and began to gingerly stroke the side of his desert blossom's head. "C'mon, honey—don't say that. Where's all that gung-ho I saw earlier today?" Beau forced a chuckle to ease the mood and tension. "Besides, heh...that's kinda suppos' ta be mah line."
Vanilla neither smiled nor looked up to shoot an amused glare. "I...I'm sorry. I'm...I'm not sure whether I have it in me to make you happy." Her grip on his waist tightened. "I...I want to be with you...but the thought of driving you away is just..."
Beau silenced his love's self-doubt with a gentle upward tilt to the chin and then a deep, moist kiss, making damn sure his tongue held onto hers as tightly as he could enable it to. He wanted to make sure Vanilla understood that she wasn't alone, that she had nothing to worry for. He slowly released the kiss, slow enough to prolong the internal contact binding him and his future wife in ways beyond mere flesh. His eyes bore into hers being like magma spouting through the earth.
"Don't you evah think that about yourself. Baby, you are the kindest, most caring, and single most drop-dead gorgeous being Ah evah dun see walk this planet."
'He...He can't possibly mean that. I mean...I know he loves me...yet...' Vanilla frowned in pure confusion. "But what about—"
Her buck sighed in light exasperation before nuzzling her neck in an attempt to comfort her. "And, God dang it, stop comparin' yourself to mah first wife, Nilly! Gosh, she was wonderful in her own way but you're wonderful in your own way—just ain't no use tryin' to compare the two of ya'll." Beau allowed his voice to drop to a sultry octave, his eyelids and lips both narrowing in both conscious and unconscious preparation of the intimacy to come. "Ain't no shame in being scared...just let it all be...let it be..."
'He's right... I can't let fear stop me. I just have to stop being so hard on myself.' Another kiss passed between the two hares, this one, though not as deep as its predecessor, longer and, this time, not one-sided. Vanilla occupied the next few seconds of the following silence by staring once more into Beau's storm-azure irises; the depths of those eyes never failed to send her drowning in rapture. Her murmur trembled in her voice, "Please..."
"Please what?"
Vanilla closed her eyes shut and lay her head on Beau's chest once more; only this time, peace and content lay in her actions. "Please let me become your eternity...if nothing else, at least let that wish of mine come true today. I'll face the consequences of my actions...just as so long as you're with me for us to face them together."
"As one...?" His voice so full of hope and relief...
"As one..." Her voice so full of newfound conviction and bravery...
"Whatever the lady wants...," He paused to kiss her—deeply, genuinely, and fervently— back and back and back until he managed to make her drop softly onto the bed...and got right down to work. But before he did away with all his reservations (and clothes), he whispered down into her ears, "...the lady gets."
Sorry, no sex scene—I don't have enough confidence in my writing skills for that. XD