Table Manners

by Grimm

Rating: mature
Tags: Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Sex, Bon-Bon, Slice of Life
Length: 4220

Dinner with your marefriend’s parents is stressful enough, and the last thing Bon Bon needs is Lyra trying to make it more... exciting.

“It’s just dinner.”

Three fateful words. After weeks of cajoling, Bon Bon agrees to a meal with Lyra’s parents. It’s just dinner, Lyra insists. What’s there to worry about?

Quite a lot, as it turns out – Lyra most of all.

Published 2015-12-18 00:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-12-18 00:20:02 UTC

Multitasking

Bon Bon dragged the brush through her mane again, and sighed at the result. Of course it would be today of all days that it decided to misbehave.

Another groan came from outside the bathroom. “It looks fine, Bon Bon. It’s looked fine for the last twenty minutes. Can’t we just go?”

“It is not fine, Lyra. I can’t get it right, and we’re not going anywhere until I do.”

“I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about,” Lyra replied, appearing in the doorway and leaning against the frame. Bon Bon’s lover had settled on her classic ‘just got out of bed’ look, a style Lyra had perfected so completely that she never did anything else. “It’s only one night, and my parents loved you last time!”

Bon Bon gave her a pointed look through the mirror. “They didn’t even know you were a lesbian until you introduced me as your marefriend.”

“That was a carefully thought out move!” Lyra protested. “They wouldn’t be able to say anything with you right there, and I knew it would go down easier if they got to know you before it sunk in.”

“You also neglected to tell me they didn’t know.”

“Yeah, that was part of the plan too. You wouldn’t be able to yell at me.”

Bon Bon sighed and returned her attention to the mirror. “Next time, leave me out of any Equestria-shattering revelations to your parents.”

“I’ll think about it.” Lyra crossed the room, close enough that their flanks were almost touching. “You know, you’re cute when you’re flustered. I should have set this up weeks ago.”

Bon Bon didn’t deign that with a response, and Lyra only leaned closer, her warm breath tickling against Bon Bon’s skin.

“But you don’t need to worry – they know what we get up to in the bedroom now, right? Well, maybe not all of it.” She began to nip at Bon Bon’s ear, giggling at the low purr it elicited.

“That’s not fair; you know how much I love that.”

“Oh, I know.” Lyra didn’t stop. If anything her attentions only grew rougher, and now her hoof was roaming slowly over Bon Bon’s fur.

Bon Bon shivered, rubbing her hind legs together, her tail twitching instinctively. “Okay, you’ve really got to stop. I don’t have time to shower, and I can’t show up at your parent’s house reeking of sex.”

“You’d better hurry up then,” Lyra murmured, kissing her cheek. “Otherwise I might get carried away.”

Bon Bon let herself enjoy Lyra’s touch for a few moments longer, the wandering hoof getting dangerously far back before she shook her marefriend off. “Okay, you win. But I’m going to make you pay for teasing me later.”

“Not if I do it first!”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” Bon Bon gave her mane one last run-through with the brush, regretted it immediately, and threw the offending article across the counter in disgust.

“Don’t sweat it, Bonnie. You look as sexy as always.”

“If that’s what your parents are going to think, I should be concerned.”

“Aw, stop worrying.” Lyra hooked a hoof around Bon Bon’s shoulders, almost casually enough to pass as a loving hug until she started dragging Bon Bon towards the door. “It’ll be fun!”

Bon Bon was sure it would be anything but.

***

A loud squeal filled the room as Bon Bon’s fork scraped against the plate again, and she winced. As if the awkward silence hadn’t been bad enough. It wasn’t her fault that these were unicorn utensils – made for magic, not hooves – but every time her lack of a horn made itself apparent she couldn’t help but shrink a little deeper into her chair. At this rate she’d have merged into it before the meal was over.

She still wasn’t sure how someone like Lyra could have come from a household like this; to say the atmosphere was austere would be a terrible understatement. The Heartstrings’ house was large and bleak. Grim portraits of presumably long-dead family members loomed over them as they ate, and the overall atmosphere was one of sullied superiority, as if the family not-so-secretly believed their rightful place was with Canterlot nobility rather than the denizens of Ponyville.

The feeling extended fully to Lyra’s parents. Her father was the very image of a patriarch – a dappled grey, thickset stallion who stared coldly at Bon Bon over an intimidatingly bushy moustache. His wife was pale blue with a familiar white streak through her mane and tail, though there the family resemblance to Lyra ended. She wore an eternal pout on her face, and her expressions seemed to range only from contempt to disgust, at least where Bon Bon was concerned. Lyra herself appeared obliviously cheerful, and once again Bon Bon wondered how such a cold environment could have spawned the fiery ball of good spirits that she’d fallen in love with.

“So,” said Lyra’s father, punctuating the pause with a signature harrumph that demanded nothing less than complete attention from the room, “Lyra tells us you two have bought a store together?”

Despite posing the question at both of them, Mr Heartstrings was looking intently and exclusively at Bon Bon. He wasn’t even blinking.

Bon Bon gave Lyra a desperate glance, and was rewarded with nothing but an encouraging smile. So much for backup. “Er, yes, we have. It’s… Well it’s something I’ve always- we’ve always wanted to do, and… Er…”

“It’s a sweet shop!” Lyra chimed in, at last coming to Bon Bon’s aid.

This did not appear to go over well. Lyra’s father raised an eyebrow, his moustache bristling incredulously. “A sweet shop?”

“W-well, yes,” said Bon Bon. The room felt like it had grown a good few degrees warmer. “We make all the sweets ourselves, and-”

“That’s a big investment,” he said, not waiting for her to finish. “And I’m not just talking about the money. An entire store, hm? I was an entrepreneur myself, and entering into business together isn’t something you take lightly.”

“Oh, of course not. But Lyra and I, we’re both very happy with the, um…” Still stumbling over her words, Bon Bon didn’t even notice it at first. It was such a light touch – the barest brush against her thigh – it could have been mistaken for the tablecloth. And then it curled in between her legs and Bon Bon jolted bolt upright, letting out a strangled ‘yip’ sound.

Lyra’s mother frowned. “Are you alright?”

“Yes!” Bon Bon shouted far too loudly, before managing to compose herself as the touch retreated. “I mean, yes, I’m fine. I just… bit my tongue.”

Bon Bon turned and scowled at her marefriend, who was giving her a particularly satisfied grin. As Lyra’s father launched into a monologue that Bon Bon was paying absolutely no attention to, she leaned over and hissed into Lyra’s ear. “What in Tartarus was that?”

“Nothing really,” Lyra murmured back. “I just thought it would make dinner a bit more exciting.”

On the last word Lyra’s horn flared, and the touch against Bon Bon’s leg returned, stronger this time. It could have been a hoof, if Bon Bon didn’t know any better, and in fact she was sure that was exactly what Lyra was going for. A sexy, mint green hoof that was tracing its way up between her legs like it had so many times before, inching ever closer to the heat that nestled-

“-don’t you think so, Bon Bon?”

The sudden question snapped Bon Bon out of that treacherous line of thought before it could go too far. If only Lyra could be so easily dissuaded, her magic still playing insistently against Bon Bon’s skin, and it wasn’t as if Bon Bon could just brush it aside or give it a warning slap. Instead she simply had to sit there as it caressed her so intimately, doing her best to smile as if nothing was going on beneath the table.

“Oh, definitely,” she said, with no idea as to what she was supposed to be agreeing with. Hopefully nothing that would come back to bite her later.

Whatever it was, her answer seemed to satisfy Lyra’s father, who nodded thoughtfully. “I’m glad you agree. Now, when I first started my business…”

Bon Bon leaned over again, as surreptitiously as she could. “This isn’t funny,” she hissed.

Lyra gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Of course it is. Come on, I haven’t even started yet.”

True to her word, Lyra’s magic gave up its slow teasing against her thigh and moved quickly upwards, stopping just short of its final destination, still content to simply bear the promise of what was to come. But it was the promise that Bon Bon was worried about. It was hard enough to keep it together as it was, squeezing her legs tight as if she could somehow force the intruding magic away, or at least resist the urges the teasing was giving her. She could feel her heartbeat quickening at its touch, cursing herself for it even as the heat between her legs grew warmer.

“And what did you say your store was called, again?” asked Bon Bon’s father, again breaking his monologuing at the worst possible moment. Bon Bon wished he’d just talk and talk until Lyra grew bored of this, which was looking further and further away by the second.

H-Heartfelt ConfectioNARIES!” Bon Bon yelped the last bit of the word before she could stop herself, her eyes going wide as Lyra finally stopped her teasing and pressed against her, almost into her. She clutched the table edge and took a deep breath, trying to contain herself even as Lyra’s magic began to circle against and stroke her folds.

“It’s right next to Quills and Sofas!” Lyra concluded cheerfully.

Oh, she was good, devilishly so. There wasn’t a single hint in Lyra’s voice, no slip in her demeanour, no slight change in her magic to suggest it was being used for anything other than to hold her fork. Even Bon Bon wouldn’t have believed it if she couldn’t feel it caressing her so intimately, more lithe than any hoof, more dextrous than any tongue, and all with that magical tingle that Bon Bon adored so much. Adored when it was appropriate, that was. Now was about as far from appropriate as it was possible to get, and Bon Bon squirmed in her chair as Lyra’s magic grew more and more insistent.

“Ah yes, I know the area,” said Lyra’s father, thankfully still oblivious to Bon Bon’s predicament. “Is business good there? I imagine you have to compete with that bakery nearby.”

“S-sugarcube Corner?” Bon Bon asked, completely failing to keep the tremor out of her voice despite her best efforts. “Not r-really. The Cakes are good friends of ours, and... ohhh…” She trailed off into a shuddering sigh, clenching her hocks tightly together as Lyra’s magic travelled upwards to toy with her clit, turning the slow, mounting pleasure from before into sudden electric sparks that darted across her skin. Her marehood tried desperately to tighten around the tongue that would usually be right there, and instead left Bon Bon even more hopelessly turned on with nothing but that unfulfilling, immaterial tingle between her legs.

Oh Celestia, this was so wrong. Bon Bon had been trying to melt into the chair even before Lyra had started… whatever this was, but now? Now she’d be happy if a pit to Tartarus opened beneath her and swallowed her up. Her cheeks burned, flushed with both arousal and utter embarrassment at how badly she was hiding it, and Lyra just. Wouldn’t. Stop. Worse, now she’d hit Bon Bon’s weak spot she was intent on eking out as much as she could.

Bon Bon knew her marefriend too well; there was no winning here, not from the start. Even if she’d stayed impassive and somehow had the willpower to hide it, Lyra would have just tried harder and harder to get a reaction. As it was, she didn’t have to try very hard at all.

And yet there was something else, too. Beyond the embarrassment and fear of being caught, or even because of it. Something that had made it so easy for Lyra to get Bon Bon to squeak and squirm.

A dirty, shameful kind of excitement. The same kind Bon Bon would get from passing a new set of particularly scanty lingerie to the cashier, or kissing mares she barely knew in bars when she was younger, or when she and Lyra would close the store early, shutting the blinds but barely making it five feet before they fell to the floor to fuck each other’s brains out, and not stopping when somepony knocked on the door.

Yes, exactly like that.

Perhaps that was why Bon Bon wasn’t fighting this as hard as she could have. It would have been so easy to just excuse herself to the bathroom, or even kick Lyra in the shin to show she was serious, but she didn’t. And the truth was that she didn’t want to.

Lyra had picked up the conversation while Bon Bon recovered, and was now animatedly discussing the pros and cons of sugar-free substitutes for candy with her parents, neither of whom were interested. Bon Bon certainly wasn’t. She knew it was just a smokescreen anyway – a way for Lyra to keep her parents distracted enough that they wouldn’t discover what was going on beneath the table, or notice that Lyra’s horn was still alight despite having dropped her fork some time ago.

Surely using her magic like this wasn’t easy? To act so well and simultaneously lavish her marefriend with her attentions, knowing exactly the right place to make Bon Bon have to bite her lip desperately just to keep any giveaway moans from escaping, without even looking. Were she in any other position Bon Bon would have been impressed, but as it was she too busy being torn between embarrassment and arousal to focus on anything else.

And almost as if she could hear Bon Bon’s mental praise, Lyra chose that exact moment to give up playing and push her magic inside. Bon Bon stiffened again, her chair creaking all too loudly as Lyra’s magic filled her, twisting and curling in on itself to reach Bon Bon’s most sensitive spots. It was too much. Oh, it was even vibrating. When the hell did Lyra learn to do that?

And why didn’t she do it sooner?

This was a far cry from the mare Bon Bon had met so long ago – experimenting but still inexperienced even with stallions, let alone mares. A mare who had been so nervous the first time that Bon Bon had to keep stopping to make sure she was okay, and to hold her hooves to stop them shaking. A mare who had hugged her so closely afterwards, giggling and whispering that no-one had ever been able to make her feel like that before, not even in her fantasies. The mare who had been so scared when she told Bon Bon she loved her, and who had almost burst into tears when Bon Bon told her she felt the same way.

Bon Bon had said right from the start that they should take it slow, not to push it, but Lyra had only taken that as a challenge. And now here they were, Bon Bon doing all she could to keep from quivering in her seat or collapsing onto the table as Lyra’s magic worked its way ever deeper, filling her so completely, and Bon Bon couldn’t help but feel she was somewhat responsible.

A quiet cough alerted Bon Bon to the fact that Lyra’s parents were staring at her, clearly awaiting some kind of response to a question Bon Bon hadn’t even heard.

“Oh, er, sorry. I was-”

focused on how good this feels

“-lost in thought.” Bon Bon flashed what she hoped was a winning smile, knowing the effect would be slightly impacted by the fact she had to grit her teeth to keep from gasping at Lyra’s continued efforts. This elicited another disdainful grunt from Lyra’s father, but her mother gave Bon Bon a look that almost seemed tinged with concern, beyond the usual pursed lips.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re quite pale.”

Oh it’s nothing, just that your daughter is fucking me with her magic under the table. Don’t worry though, I’m not going to last much longer.

“I’m fine,” Bon Bon said, giving her words such finality that she would have almost believed them herself if it weren’t for that familiar, mounting pressure inside her. It was getting harder and harder to fight it, Bon Bon’s grip so hard on the table she was worried it might crack. It was getting harder to want to fight it, so close now that Lyra’s magic barely had to do anything to make Bon Bon buck her hips slightly off the chair. It would have been so easy to just give in, to let go and sit back and stop thinking.

But she couldn’t.

Not here, not now. Not right in front of Lyra’s parents. Bon Bon was barely holding it together as it was; there was no way she could hide it if she let Lyra’s attentions overwhelm her, no matter how tempting it was. And so she kept her iron grip on the table edge, kept her jaw clenched so tightly it creaked, kept staring straight ahead into space, or anywhere that wasn’t at the other ponies at the table. Especially not Lyra. Bon Bon wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

They were all talking again, why were they talking again? Did they really not know? Bon Bon could never have contributed in her state anyway, their words washing over her like surf on sand, barely there for a moment before they withdrew and were gone again, instantly forgotten in the wake of Lyra’s magical touch.

It was almost lonely. Bon Bon had become so used to Lyra being there during moments like this, feeling her marefriend’s warmth against her as they snuggled as close as they could, and when that wonderful moment of release came Bon Bon could always hug and kiss her, could gasp and laugh against Lyra’s neck, could shudder while Lyra’s hooves wrapped around her so tightly. Here there was none of that. Just the air that felt so cool against her, and the hard wood of the chair digging into her back as she arched it, and the ever-pressing knowledge that she was walking the razor’s edge of climax right in front of Lyra’s mother and father.

Bon Bon couldn’t begin to imagine what they’d do if they ever realised what Lyra – their ‘sweet little angel’ – had been doing this whole time, all while Bon Bon let her. It didn’t bear thinking about. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to keep fighting, keep her cool.

She could do this.

Bon Bon knew in that moment she could. She was right at the brink, but she could hold back. Of course she could; she had to. She was a rock, she was unbreakable, she was-

“-and we’re happy.” Lyra reached out and took Bon Bon’s hoof in her own, simultaneously thrusting her magic forward in a final crescendo, and Bon Bon came. Her already laboured breaths became sharp exhales, halfway between gasps and the unmistakable cries of a mare’s climax. Her legs slammed together under the table, eyes screwed shut, as if every part of her body was trying to hold in the sudden rush of pleasure before it escaped. Any facade of restraint dissolved, melting away in an instant as she threw her head back, her hips bucking in a useless attempt to take Lyra’s magic deeper, like she could move the intangible.

The part of Bon Bon that remembered where she was – why she shouldn’t be doing this – wasn’t drowned out so much as swept aside, washed away like nothing by the rising tide of her orgasm. It wasn’t forgotten, far from it, Bon Bon just couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. Instead she let herself wallow in her pleasure, let it pour over her and fill her and simultaneously empty her of anything else.

Until, slowly, it faded. She couldn’t hold onto it forever, and all too soon it was gone and she was back in the room with Lyra’s parents and reality crashed into her again. And now she most certainly cared.

Fuck.

Bon Bon swallowed, Lyra’s parents staring at her dumbfounded, while Lyra herself was attempting and failing to hold back laughter. When Lyra’s horn winked out, Bon Bon actually felt a touch of longing for her magic. Only a touch, though, and it was far outweighed by the deep embarrassment that settled in her stomach. How much did they know? Bon Bon wasn’t even entirely sure what she’d done anymore, or how obvious she’d made it. The look on their faces suggested it fell somewhere between ‘definitely an orgasm’ and ‘dubious panic attack’.

There was dead silence. Dead other than Lyra’s spluttering giggles, at least. A heavy expectation hung in the air, the demand for some kind of explanation. Bon Bon took a deep breath. “I need the bathroom.”

Lyra’s mother blinked. “Oh, yes. Up the stairs, second room on the left.” It was a robotic response – instinctual, not considered.

“Thank you.” Bon Bon stood up, the screech of her chair against the floor so loud in the silence, and stiffly made her way towards the door on shaking legs, fighting every urge to run. She held her tail down as best she could, hoping they wouldn’t notice the drip she could feel running down the inside of her thigh, and that Lyra could somehow keep them from seeing the damp patch she’d left behind on her chair.

Bon Bon didn’t stop holding her breath until the door shut behind her.

***

The wall was covered in the kind of drab, floral design that seemed to only exist in the houses of parents, but Bon Bon stared at it anyway. Beside her on the bed, Lyra snuggled closer, nuzzling her cheek apologetically as Bon Bon continued to ignore her.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

Bon Bon didn’t even know what to say to that. It was about as bad as it could get, and she didn’t want to know what Lyra thought ‘bad’ entailed.

“It’s not like they realised,” Lyra tried again.

“I wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“Well, no,” Lyra admitted, and Bon Bon could hear the smile in her voice, “but they just thought you were stressed or something. Trust me, sex is the last thing either of them ever think about.”

“I don’t want to ask how you know that.”

“Ew. I just meant my parents are about as straight-laced as you can get.” Lyra tutted. “And you say I’m the deviant.”

And now Bon Bon did turn to look at her marefriend, a deep scowl on her face. “I think you lost any right to argue otherwise when you fucked me during dinner.”

“I didn’t know you were gonna make it so obvious!”

“You didn’t stop when you found out, either.”

“Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how sexy it is when you’re trying to hold it in like that? Like I could resist.” Lyra leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a soft murmur. “And you didn’t try very hard to stop me.”

Bon Bon tried to give her another meaningful glance, but was interrupted by Lyra’s lips against hers. And despite herself, a small smile tilted the corners of her mouth at her lover’s ‘apology’.

“You can admit it,” Lyra muttered in-between kisses. “You liked it.”

“Maybe I did,” Bon Bon replied. “Or maybe I was just biding time to get my revenge.” With that, Bon Bon lunged and rolled Lyra onto her back, coming to a stop on top of her, laughing at her exaggerated shriek and silencing her with a kiss of her own.

“Oh no,” Lyra said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable, “whatever are you going to do to me, laid bare and entirely at your mercy?”

“You sound like a bad porn novel.”

“Shh, you’re supposed to be too turned on to argue back right now.”

But Bon Bon stopped, raising her head. “How thick do you think those walls are?”

“Huh?”

She grinned wickedly. “Do you think your parents will hear if we’re too loud?”

Lyra paled. “Hey, wait a minute…”

“Do they know you’re a screamer?” Bon Bon began to slide down the bed, planting kisses amongst the soft fur of Lyra’s chest as she went, matching and meeting the rise and fall of her breathing.

“I suddenly regret everything.”

“No you don’t,” Bon Bon said, her reply slightly muffled as she slid her muzzle between Lyra’s thighs.

“Oh fuck,” Lyra whispered, shuddering as Bon Bon’s tongue pressed against her. “You’re right, I don’t. Just keep doing that.”

Even the tiny movement of Bon Bon smiling was enough for Lyra to let out a low moan. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said, her eyes glinting. “I haven’t even started yet.”