Worth Waiting For
Bell-Bell poked her fork at her salad. A tossed salad. Lettuce, spinach leaves, a bit of green onion. Some cheese and croutons.
"Never seen anyone eat a salad," Dusky remarked, "without dressing. Like, the salad dressing."
"Never cared for it."
The rabbit nodded. Poking at his own food. He wasn't really hungry, truth be told.
A radio was on in the restaurant. Some radio station. Some song. Singing softly, "Meet me there ... just you alone. I won't ever ask again ... "
Bell-Bell continued poking at her salad. Lifting her fork and taking her bite.
Dusky, nose twitching, watched her. Eyes on her. Nose on the food. Ears on the music, which continued to sing. He listened to the words as he watched the deer eat. "You're like a bird on a wire. In spite of the sun ... the other one's the lucky one, and he's gone ... "
The deer reached for her water glass.
"You know where I live," the music sang. "Walk the floor. You know where I live ... "
"Um," Bell-Bell said, sipping her water. "How's your food?"
"It's okay."
"Pasta. Mm ... didn't know pasta could be anything BUT okay. It's kind of hard to mess up."
"I guess." A pause. "My parents burned pasta once, though."
"Burned it?" she asked.
"I don't know. It's just ... one of my earlier memories. They were watching something on the television, and they forgot the spaghetti noodles on the stove. All the water evaporated, and the noodles burned."
The deer nodded quietly.
"I know that's a really random story to be telling you," Dusky apologized.
"It's okay ... "
"I don't even really like pasta," he said, sighing, pushing his plate away. "I'm not hungry," he whispered.
After a few seconds, the doe offered, "Want some of my salad?"
A shake of the head.
The song on the radio was nearing its end. "I wish that just for once," it sang, "I could come home and miss ... all those things I'd see here on the news. Instead, I see you. I couldn't forget ... without reward, without regret ... "
Dusky bit his lip.
"You know where I live," went the chorus. "Walk the floor. You know where I live ... "
"You're being," said Bell-Bell, speaking above the music, "very quiet."
"I don't have much to say," was the rabbit's honest whisper. As he stared at the vase of flowers in the middle of their little booth. "I mean, I never do." He looked up. Met her eyes. "Ask anyone ... and they'll tell you."
"Well," was Bell-Bell's response. "Everyone's got something to say."
The rabbit gave a little, disbelieving smile. And gave no verbal response.
"Some furs are just afraid of saying it, is all."
"I'm not afraid," the rabbit responded immediately.
"I knew you were gonna say that," the doe said quietly.
He looked to her. Squinted a bit.
"You're not the type to admit anything, are you? I don't think you're the type to lie, but ... you're not the type to tell the truth, either, about how you feel. You just give vague, non-committal answers."
"So, what, are you ... insulting me?" he asked, still squinting.
"I'm just making an observation."
The rabbit blew out a breath and leaned back in the booth. Staring, unblinking, at the table. "I would've been more comfortable having lunch."
"Then you should've told me that," the doe said, "before agreeing to supper. Or do you say yes to any-fur who propositions you?"
He didn't answer that. Only picked up his spoon. Fiddled with it.
She tilted her head. Asking, "Mind if I ask you something, then?"
"Would it stop you if I said 'no'?"
The deer smiled a bit at that. And continued, "You're afraid of the dark, aren't you?"
The rabbit's nose and whiskers twitched. He gripped the spoon.
"I'm not gonna tell anyone," Bell-Bell whispered.
"I'd prefer if you didn't," he responded. In equal whisper. Without meeting her eyes.
The deer, hoof-like hands (with only three fingers and a thumb on each hand) on the table, asked, "Are you gonna be okay for the race on Saturday night?" It was to be a night race. Run just at sunset. The majority of it under the lights. For, by race's end, night would completely fall.
"There are big lights all around the track. I'll be fine."
"It's okay to be afraid of things."
"Yeah," Dusky huffed. "If you're a mouse. I'm not a mouse. I'm a rabbit."
"So, that makes you impervious to ... fears?"
"It should," was his serious response.
The doe sighed, looking down at her salad. And then looked back up. "Well ... why?"
"I don't know," he confessed. He cleared his throat. "Can we talk about something else? We're trying to be mates, right? Is this the kind of stuff mates talk about?"
"I don't know. I've never had a mate," she answered slowly. And she didn't believe in yiff outside of mate-ships. She adhered to her faith. Even if many chose not to ...
Dusky blinked. "What? Really?" He paused. "You're, uh ... you're ... "
"Yeah," she whispered, flushing a bit. Not saying the word. Virgin. "But I've never been mated, no ... you?"
"I've not been mated before, no," he answered. And opened his muzzle to say something more. And shut it.
But she nodded, understanding what hadn't been said. "Ah, you ... you've never been mated, but you've had more partners than you can count on both paws. Yeah?"
Dusky's ears burned. From shame. Embarrassment. Something ...
"We're just opposites, I guess. Maybe opposites attract," the doe said gently.
The rabbit, waggling ears still burning, sipped from his own water. Took a gulp or two. And put the glass down. Feeling the condensation on his paw-pads.
"So," the doe said, taking a deep breath, and offering a warm smile. "How'd you get into racing? Never asked you that ... "
"I was a wild child," the rabbit said. "Didn't have any money, but ... you know, I wanted to get away from home. Couldn't afford school. I got involved in racing bikes first, you know. Like, motor-bikes, but I liked cars ... I never really liked bikes. I got a chance to drive a sprint car one time, and they liked what they saw. And, years later, here I am. Driving open-wheels."
"Years later. You make it sound like ... you're so old. You're only twenty. I mean, that's younger than me."
The rabbit tilted his head and looked her over. How old was she, exactly? He hadn't even though about it.
"Twenty-three," she supplied, as if reading his mind.
"Oh."
A slight giggle. "Yeah. I know ... mm ... but ... " She shrugged her shoulders.
"What about you, then?" Dusky asked, feeling he should counter her question. "Why do you do," he asked, "what you do?"
"Well, I like furs." She put both her hands on her water glass. But didn't pick it up. And she, smiling lightly, biting her lip a bit ... looked to the flowers on the table. "I like furs. I mean, I'm not a party-fur or anything, but I like to interact, you know. I like to help furs. Be around them. But I like media, and ... how it can reach so many souls, I guess. I don't know. Bottom line became ... I liked sports, especially, you know? But I'm kind of thin, and ... unfortunately, not blessed with any athletic skills. So, I couldn't play." She paused. "So, I decided that, hey, if I can't PLAY sports ... maybe I could do some other job related to sports, you know. There were plenty of things. And ... like, media jobs. And Adelaide's been my friend since school, and when she got a break in racing, she asked if I would manage her press and stuff, cause ... well, she's a bat AND a femme. She gets a lot of attention."
"I've noticed," Dusky said.
"Hope you're not jealous of her ... "
"I'm not," was all the rabbit said.
The doe eyed him. "She's not trying to shove it to anyone. Not trying to take anyone's glory. She's got an equal right to be here."
"I said I'm not jealous." A pause. "If anyone should be jealous, it's Lumba. She's a femme, too, but ... everyone's so in love with Adelaide."
"I don't think Lumba cares. She's very low-key."
"Yeah. Well, I'm not, but ... I don't necessarily WANT press, either," Dusky continued.
"Yeah, I've ... I saw you got fined a few times."
"Was just being honest. They know I'm going to be honest, and that's why they shove the camera in my face ... they should know to stay away. They just bait me."
"Well ... " The deer let out a breath. And picked up her glass. Sipping water. And put it back down, keeping her hands on the glass. "Well, anyway, so Adelaide got me my job, basically. That's why I'm here."
Dusky nodded. And nodded again. Looking around at the other furs ... all in their own conversations. He sniffed the air. The smell of food. The smell of warmth.
Bell-Bell fidgeted a bit.
And the rabbit looked back at her.
Her blue eyes delicately met his.
Say something, say something, Dusky told himself. Say something. "You look pretty."
A smile melted onto her face. "Thanks."
He smiled a bit at her smile. And realized he was still holding his spoon. And he put it down.
"You look," she countered, "handsome."
"You're just telling me that cause I said you were pretty. You're repaying the compliment."
"I am, yes, repaying the compliment, but I'm not doing it out of obligation ... I'm doing it cause that's honestly what I think. You are handsome."
The rabbit flushed. Breathed in through the nose, and cleared his throat.
"When you smile, it's just ... you've got a lot of youth in you."
"Is that a good thing?"
"It's very ... appealing. I can't explain it."
"Mm ... " The rabbit nodded. Picking up the menu.
"You want dessert?" Bell-Bell asked.
"No. I just ... I'm just looking." His eyes scanned the items. They had appetizers geared for certain species. Carrot-like things for rabbits. Cheese dishes for mice. Salt licks for deer. He chuckled to himself at that.
"What?"
"Nothing." He put the menu down. Letting out a breath. And he met her eyes. "I just don't like sitting still," he said honestly.
Her eyes on his, she nodded. "I know," she whispered.
"It's not that I feel trapped ... when I do, you know. When I sit still. I just ... "
" ... have to deal with things," Bell-Bell supplied.
"I'm not a coward," he whispered, as if trying to convince her.
"I know you're not," she said. "But, as I said, you have fears. It's normal to be afraid of things."
"Yeah, and I told you ... I'm not a mouse. I'm a rabbit. I shouldn't have THIS kind of anxiety, you know?" He looked around. "I mean, see that mouse over there? He's eaten EVERYTHING on his plate already. And his squirrel companion hasn't touched his own food yet. It's, like ... the mouse is instinctually afraid some-fur's gonna come and snatch away his food. Afraid he's gonna starve. So, he eats up his food as fast as he can, as soon as he gets it. He just can't, for the life of him, take the time to savor his food." A pause. "All mice are like that, I've noticed. Field ... you seen him eat?"
Bell-Bell nodded.
"He does that."
"Just the way mice are."
Dusky nodded.
"I didn't know," Bell-Bell added, "you were so interested in furry psychology."
"I just like to think about things like that. As I said, I never went to school."
"Maybe you should."
The rabbit just chuckled a bit, shaking his head slightly.
"Why not? You save up enough of your winnings, you could easily pay for it."
"I'm just not the type, Bell-Bell," Dusky said. He fidgeted a bit. "As I said, I can't sit still, you know? I'm a race car driver. I'm not a student who could ... sit as desks all day, every day, taking tests. I couldn't stand that. It's so static. I mean, you go to school, right, to get a better job, to make more money, to have a better standard of living. That's what it's for. It's not about bettering yourself, or ... it's about money. I have a job. I make more money than the average college graduate does ... by doing what I love. By racing cars. I don't need an education," the rabbit said.
Bell-Bell just listened, angular ears swivelled, cocked.
"Anyway, I just ... " The rabbit trailed. He swallowed. "Sorry, I ... didn't mean to rant at you like that."
"It's okay," Bell-Bell whispered. "I just wish you weren't so cynical."
"I don't mean to be. It's just ... the way it comes out."
The doe nodded again. "I understand."
"Do you?" the rabbit pressed. "I mean, DO you?"
She nodded again. "Yes," she whispered, meeting his eyes.
He met her eyes, too. Keeping the eye contact. And not breaking it (though he wanted to). Her eyes were so piercing. So pure. She was so much better than him. He honestly felt that. He didn't deserve a fur like her. Her kind of patience. Her kind of good nature. He felt a bit guilty ... and, in the back of his mind, he kept thinking about how he wanted to yiff her. Wanted to yiff with her. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, pushing those thoughts aside. She's more than a warm body, Dusky ... love is more than that. Control yourself. But I'm a rabbit, he responded. Yes, you are. But a sentient rabbit. With a soul. Stop making excuses ... you're not a wild animal ...
"You okay?" the doe asked, leaning forward a bit. Her hand sliding across the table. Taking his paw. Brushing it.
The rabbit shivered at the touch. His instinct flared, and he clamped down on it. He just nodded, letting out a weak breath. Heady with the scent of her. "Yeah," he whispered. "Yeah ... " He opened his eyes and smiled at her. And swallowed. "Um, it's just ... it's been forever since I've had a real conversation with anyone, you know ... been a while," he admitted, "since anyone's wanted to get to know me like this."
"Well, you're worth it," she assured (assuring herself as much as she was assuring him). She squeezed his paw.
The rabbit gulped and squeezed back.
"I, uh ... prayed for you," she told him, "last night. I've been ... actually, for a while now."
The rabbit looked to her. Feeling a bit self-conscious at that. "Praying?"
"Yeah. You know ... praying. Don't you ever pray?"
"No ... "
"Have you ever? Even once?"
The rabbit didn't answer.
"It's not that hard," she said softly. "I could teach you." A pause. "I mean, if you want ... if you want, just ask."
Dusky's eyes went out of focus for a bit. And then he blinked, tilting his head. Confused. "You prayed about me?"
"For," she corrected. "For you. Yes."
The rabbit's eyes watered. "Why?"
"Cause I love you," she answered sincerely. Delicately. As if the words were liable to shatter.
And Dusky let out a breath. And took one in. And asked (again), "Why?"
"Can't you just believe it?"
"I don't know how to have the kind of faith ... in love, in God, in anything ... that you have," was his admittance.
"It can be learned," was her response. And she sat up bit straighter in her chair, smoothing her dress. Her simple dress. Straps on the shoulders. Breezy enough (in color and design) for the muggy summer night out there. "Anyway, I ... just wanted you to know."
"Why? It's ... now, I feel all self-conscious. Like ... like I have to be living up to something now."
"You keep wanting proof that I'm in love with you. Well, I'm supplying it. I pray for you. That's proof. I'm here, sitting here, talking with you, eating with you. There's proof. The evidence is in the very air you're breathing, Dusky. So, I just ... stop trying to shoot it all down. Stop trying to blink it away."
The rabbit just looked at her. She was very unlike ... what he'd thought she would be. But, then, what had his preconceptions of her been? He wasn't entirely sure. Only, she was surprising. She was gently relentless. And pretty. Very elegant and pretty.
The doe flushed a bit at Dusky's stare.
The rabbit blinked. "S-sorry ... "
"It's okay," she assured quietly, smiling at him. "Mm ... well, maybe we should pay for the meal, and ... take a walk?"
"A walk?"
"Yeah," she said quietly.
"Like, back ... back to the infield? At the track?"
A quiet nod. "Well, we can ... if you'd be okay with just ... sleeping."
The rabbit swallowed.
"Not yiff-sleeping with each other, but ... sleeping. Resting. You know ... " A trail.
The rabbit squirmed a bit.
"You've never slept with anyone ... without yiffing them first," she realized.
The rabbit took a shaky breath. And shook his head. Not letting her see his eyes. "But, uh, that doesn't mean ... I don't wanna try. To just hold you. To just ... rest," he said quietly. He did feel tired. From many, many things. More things than he would ever let on. "I'd like to try." After all, they were trying to be mates, right? He just feared he wouldn't be able to control himself. "I'm a rabbit," he told her again.
"I'm quite aware of that," she said, smiling lightly. "But ... we can talk. Whisper to each other. And fall asleep." But her own heart was beating, beating, beating ... at a quickened pace. She wanted him, too. It wasn't that she didn't want yiff. She wanted it. Pretty badly. More badly than he probably thought. But ... she was trying to make a point to him. A point that, "I want you for more than a warm body." She took a breath. "I want to prove that to you. You're not just ... a piece of male ... meat, you know, to me. I want it to be something deeper. I just want you to understand that. Is why I'm asking that we not yiff yet ... I mean, not tonight, anyway." Her breath was shaky. Her throat dry. She took another sip of water.
And Dusky, watching her, trying to figure her out (what kind of manner of soul was she), just nodded quietly. "Okay," he whispered. And he bit his lip, smiling at her. Feeling something he hadn't felt in a long time: valued.
Bell-Bell took a deep breath and beamed, and nodded, and stood. "Shall we go?"
Dusky nodded and stood, smiling a bit more.
The skunk, paws on her waist, held her to the shower wall. The shower was small. It wasn't a luxury shower, but they could both fit in here. Standing up, they could both fit in here. And he sucked and mouthed the side of her neck ...
... as the otter, eyes hazy, panted. Water weighing down her whisker-tips. "D-did you, uh," she started, her accented voice a bit staggered, "get your ... your story done ... "
The skunk, swallowing, sucking and kissing the underside of her muzzle (forcing her to angle her nose to the ceiling), went, "Mm-mm ... uh ... " His paws ran up and down her wet, matted sides. Wet fur. "I think they'll call me ... t-tomorrow ... "
Lumba took several breaths, groping her mate's rump-cheeks. Grope, grope. "But they'll fire you ... "
"If ... if I'm forced to choose," the skunk said, settling down, "between that job and ... and this," he said, putting both his paws on her left breast right above her steady, beating heart. "I choose your heart." A breath. "If you'll let me."
"We've become mates, yes?"
"Yes."
"Then you know I will ... "
"I ... I don't wanna be just a lump on a log. I want to contribute," Welly panted, "to your life."
"I make enough money," she breathed, the jetting stream of water still running through the angled shower-head. And still pelting their furry pelts. "I make enough for the both of us ... and you can ... always," she huffed. "Uh ... uhn ... " She swallowed. The skunk was suckling one of her nipples. And tweaking the other with a paw. "You can always find a freelance writing job, or ... eventually. Don't worry ... uh," she quivered, and she bent her knees. Sinking down. Her nipple slipping out of his lips ...
... and her own lips brushing the skunk's un-sheathed, pink penis, which dribbled shower-water off the tip.
Welly, huffing, rose to the tips of his furry, black foot-paws. His white-striped tail weighed heavily with water. Sagging behind him.
"Down boy," Lumba commanded.
Welly lowered off his tiptoes.
"Mm ... " The otter, in a playful, very yiffy mood, grasped the skunk's furry, white sac. And the base of his penis, pointing it toward her muzzle. Looking at the head and slit. "Hello, cock," she purred politely.
Welly swallowed, panting. Knees wobbling. Heart pounding at her erotic ministrations.
"You seem happy," she whispered, still eying the cock, "to see me ... "
The skunk's penis notched upward just a few degrees more, filled to the brim with blood.
"Mm ... give us a kiss," she purred, and with that, her wet lips slid over the head. Enveloped just the head. And she suckled.
The skunk mewed. Actually mewed, slumping forward against the wall of the shower. "Uh, uh ... uhh ... "
The otter pulled off ... by an inch or two. Huffing. Pupils dilated. "Your ... your cock is a good kisser, darling, but ... it needs to learn how to give tongue."
Welly opened his muzzle to reply to that, but ...
... she'd already slid her muzzle over the length. Farther, this time. Inches farther. As much as she could take. Letting it marinate in the heat of her mouth, and then bobbing on the length of it. Swirling her tongue on the sensitive flesh. Savoring the essence of male. The very ESSENCE of male in her muzzle. It made her heady. And Welly mewling like a cub ... she finally pulled off and smiled, looking upward. The water from the shower stream splashing off her shoulders. But she was an otter. She LOVED being so wet.
The skunk was in a bit of a daze.
But Lumba rose. Rose up, body grinding, sliding with his. As she slid her arms and paws around him and started to sway. Slowly.
And the kissing resumed. To the cheeks. The neck. The lips.
Kiss after kiss after wet, sloppy kiss. With all the panting and huffing the situation entailed.
Until Lumba twisted around, bumping her belly to the shower-wall. Lifting her heavy, rudder of a tail ... her pink, swollen pussy-lips in view. Swollen ...
"Huh ... y-you're in heat," the skunk panted, licking his wet lips. His heart jumped up a speed. Femme heat, for every party involved (male and femme) ... was a treat. A yiffy dream. And, being inter-species mates, the otter and skunk needn't worry about getting pregnant.
The otter huffed for air.
"Heh ... that's why you, uh, chatted with my, uh ... penis. You're all hyped up ... "
" ... just b-breed me. P-please," she went. Breasts heaving. Her tail was lifted to the side, her legs were parted ... breed me!
"Uh, uh," the skunk quietly huffed, water spraying from his lips. His groin covered her rump, and his cock slippy-slid between her lips. Up into her vaginal canal. "Ohh ... ohh," he mewed. It was like his sensitive penis, the pink flesh of it ... it was like it was being immersed in a living, velvet pouch. More than a passage from the otter's vulva to her cervix, it was a natural, muscular sheath ... and it quivered with heat. Wet, loose, pink ...
The otter breathed raggedly, savoring the penetration. There was no more intimate act, to her, than having her mate inside her body like this. Especially knowing it felt so pleasurable for them both. They were like one fur, now. And though neither had the telepathic ability of, say, a bat, it was still a spiritual feeling. Their souls imprinting.
The skunk, growling instinctively from the throat, began to rut her from behind, panting, panting. Were he not dripping from shower-water, he would be dripping with sweat. He felt his temperature rising. His stiff, proud member appearing and disappearing in her feminine depths. Doing what it was designed to do. Doing it, most importantly, to someone he'd long admired ... and loved. And now had. He used to dream of doing this to her. His ball sac slapping audibly against her, he strained, starting to yip.
Maybe it was the water. Maybe it was because they were soaking wet and standing up. But, as she fingered her clitoris and was fucked like an animal from behind, coarse otter-barks left Lumba's throat. Bark!
Welly's mews and yips were drowned out by her instinctive sounds. Hump, hump ... the squishy sound of cock and pussy in sexual friction.
"Uhh ... uhhn ... " He heard her cum before he felt it. Before he felt the steaming hot juices squirting, sliding down his penis, and then washed away by the shower water. Her body, especially the lower half, tensed hard, as if bracing itself, and then her muscles went lax ...
The skunk rutted, shifted on his foot-paws, and mewed ... mew, mew. He tried to bark (like she had), but he could only make effeminate mews as his wet, hard cock gave way to the spasms and quivers and joys of her glorious pussy. He came, pelting her womb with white bursts of skunk seed. "Huhh ... huh! Uh!" His sac drawn tight, balls swollen, body flushed ... the skunk slumped against her soaked back. Penis giving residual twitches of orgasmic pleasure.
Lumba panted for a full minute, licking her lips, tasting a mixture of sweat and shower water. Her throat dry. Her body wonderfully weary. "Oh ... th-thank you," she breathed. "Oh ... "
Welly, eyes closed, nose on her neck ... huffed, "You ... you're beautiful. Oh, I ... you're so beautiful." He hugged her from behind.
They hugged ...
... until he pulled out of her body, cock wet, spent, and semi-erect.
She slid her legs together. Blocking the sight of semen dripping down her inner thigh ... but it was soon washed away. "The water," she realized, "is cold."
"How long have we been in here?" Welly whispered with a blink.
"I do not know." She held to his sides.
The skunk smiled. "Time flies," he quipped, trailing.
"It would appear," she breathed, sighing, smiling, turning the water off. "It would appear so ... "
And hugging, heads leaning against each other, they drip-dried.
In Dusky's trailer, the rabbit was nestled up behind the doe. She was nearly asleep. The rabbit was wearing a pair of boxers. She was wearing her panties and one of his t-shirts. They had fought the temptation to do anything physical. It was a very hot night outside, and the trailer was a bit warm, and ... so, they'd stripped down a bit. Without getting completely in the fur. They'd kissed for a few minutes. He hadn't wanted to stop. But he didn't want to force her into anything, either. So, even though they were mates now, they'd held off. Had spent a half hour talking. Whispering to each other on the couch. Falling softly asleep.
The doe breathed inward, stretching a bit (perhaps unconsciously).
Dusky held tight to her. As if afraid she would disappear. He put his nose in the back of her neck, in the fur there, and just closed his eyes and breathed.
Her last words to him before she'd begun to drift off ... had been a sleepy, "Do you ... ever have dreams, Dusky?"
"Not really," the rabbit had replied honestly. And had paused. Asking, "Why?"
"I wish we could choose our dreams," she'd said, yawning widely. "Mm ... then I could make sure my ... dreams were about you ... "
The rabbit's eyes, thinking back on her words, watered. He swallowed, a lump in his throat. And he cleared his throat and nuzzled her closer. In the middle of his bed. He could sense, from Bell-Bell's posture and rate of breathing ... that she was asleep now. And he squeezed his eyes shut and focused on her breathing. Desperate to join her. And heart racing from the heat and scent of her. At first, he'd been upset ... when she'd suggested they hold off on yiff for the first few days of their mate-ship. To let them get to know each other more. To talk and stuff. He'd thought that was stupid ...
But, as his heart welled, the rabbit truly believed that she was worth waiting for. No one before, in his life, had been worth waiting for. And she was. And he couldn't wait to love her like she deserved to be loved. He just hoped he could make her happy ... in spite of his flaws. She seemed to believe that he could.
And his fear of the dark (and all the things that came with it) seemed to be dull right now. Dull. Far and away.
And, for a change, his rest came easy tonight. And, soon, the newly-mates were dozing. Both of them. Together.