With the final deadbolt slid across I can finally feel at peace. My keys fall to the floor and the weight of the armor I wear finally hits me.
Despite what my cousins say about the difficulty living on farms compared to urban lifestyles, Canterlot is far from an easy place to live. We may not have Manehattan's industrial size, but we have its criminal underworld. We may not have Ponyville's Ever Free, but look at royal parties long enough and you can spot the monsters lurking there.
We also don't have Cloudsdale's well...no walk areas, but it's not like anyone expects one of the dozens of thousand year stones to give way and send one of the ridiculously disproportionate buildings toppling over starting a chain reaction that will send our precariously placed city from toppling over the mountain!
No, nopony does. After all why worry about living on the edge of a mountain when a runny nose could tarnish your musical skills and leave you indigent the next day for missing a recital. Or better yet somepony figures out you love somepony else that nobility didn't deem okay. Or maybe goddess forbid something as dastardly as a blemish ruins your perfect complexion.
The things that go wrong in this city, we’re like Las Pegasus without the slot machines and low standards. Stars above I envy those cousins of mine that only have to deal with eighteen hour workdays three hundred and fifty days a year. At least they don't have to sort through problems that get more inflated than unveiling day at the zeppelin factory.
And who gets to solve these problems? Princess number one, the majestic and mighty Molly, is so busy training lady Twilight to become princess number four she rarely leaves her chambers. Princess number two, the socially inept one, handles political meetings the same way a manticore would handle a bear trying to take it's meal. Princess number three has defected to the crystal empire and princess number four hasn't been fully capable of controlling whatever she is in charge of now, though I do feel more civil around my co-workers lately.
In my line of work though I would wager some chemical has probably leaked into the coffee machine at work but I will worry about that later. Right now I am lying at the door of my shared apartment wearing the best protection bits can buy, which at the end of the day only weights me down.
I shuffle up on my hooves and walk to my couch, kicking the golden horseshoes off as go. I am about to start to peeling out of my 'regulars' but something stops me mid stride. Of all the difficult choices I have to make this is always on my list as a tough one. My apartment has magically shielded windows strong enough to put a changeling on its flank, my door has three deadbolts on it and is even stronger than the windows and the whole place is a stone's throw from the local guard station.
I have not quite got to the stage where I scan all my food and drink, the funds for that disappeared when the panic room needed a new set of lanterns. Besides I have a guard nearby who insists on tasting all my food before I do.
All of this precaution is useless the second I leave my door, and the second me and my guard part ways I am left to fend for myself. Perhaps the reason I have lasted this long was my foresight. My opponents wear the same garb I do and probably have far more security to help them sleep than fine wine. Still, knowing at some point I have to remove my armor is the scary part, tonight though I don't have a choice. No rebuttal comes to mind, no clever way to work around the facts.
I walk slowly to my bedroom and leave the door open. I have to get it over with at some point, but this is a finely made suit that has stopped more swords than any guard will and saved more lives than all my hours of volunteer work at the hospital over the years. It deserves some respect. I move quickly. Unbuttoning and undoing my armor as gently as possible. After three minutes of delicate work I am finally free, and stand back to admire my greatest source of protection hanging in my closet.
The suit is made of finely woven linen, and accentuates the finer details of my form while hiding the less appealing sides. It is the simultaneously the perfect camouflage in a business meeting and the best means of protecting my reputation, which in Canterlot means as much as my life.
All that is missing is my tie, which still hangs around my neck. Normally I would sleep in it, and wake up with fine attire around my neck instead of the cheap fabric of bad suit. A filthy imitation of sophistication belonging to a filthy stallion with a disgusting scent on his breath and his magic aura around the filthy tie, strangling the life out of me.
Then again I would sleep in it if I were alone. But tonight I am not. I untie the red fabric and gently redo the knot around the clothes hanger. Satisfied with my work I walk to bed turning the lights off. I am rarely graced with guests at this hour. Especially since I never invite anypony here and don't hand out copies of my keys. My guest is clearly determined to see me and remain unseen himself, which will make greeting him all the better.
I did not have the security I do now when I was younger, and therefor the only protection from combat was determined by how fast I could run. Since then I have prepared myself since my mother of late left me alone with him. It was such a shame when he would not let me leave to learn the business of the upper class. And an even greater shame when he visited me only after I had finished clawing my way up in the world.
But if growing up under a pair of hooves taught me anything it was to relish the moments where business and pleasure collided. And the only sight sweeter than a drunken wretch finally hauled away by the royal guard is the lack of bruises on me. Years of spare time well spent.
I hear the door click shut and remain still while my mind goes over the many techniques the royal guards teach to incapacitate a pony. I slowly sit up in bed my horn aglow in the pitch black room, the spell senses for magic uses and tracks movement, satisfied there is nothing near me I silently move to open the door to let light into the room again.
I open the door suddenly with a repulsion spell charged. Nothing happens. The curtains are drawn and all the windows are shut. I feel my heart accelerate as I walk towers the door levitating a knife from the kitchen near me. I shudder at the thought if violence with it, but if the intruder is not a unicorn he would have to disarm me first believing I am more dangerous with a weapon. Truth be told I probably am, but what good is martial arts without a suitable partner.
I reach the door and remain still, there is nothing but a small draft coming from under the door. Faint, but strong enough the gradually blow my door shut. Undeterred I turn on the lights and spin around in one quick motion ready to defend myself.
The room is as I left it though. Truly mystified I walk over to the closed curtains and examine them. The remote shutting crystal is underneath one of my horseshoes, the weight pressing hard enough to activate it.
Sighing dejectedly I free the remote and open the curtains letting the light of the city seep in. Levitating the knife back I walk to my bedroom again disappointed. The city is no Manehattan, but break and enters are not uncommon and master thieves would never turn down a challenge to prove their skills.
As I enter the doorway I turn the lights off in the other room letting the dim lights from Canterlot guide my way to my bed. I have just left the doorway when two hooves grab me. One goes around my neck lifting me to stand on my hind legs while the other goes into my mouth muffling my surprised yelp. The door is kicked shut by what I presume is a right wing, as the left one comes to my nose and hovers in front of my eyes.
************************
The primary feathers on Pegasus wing are not sharp, but when inches from my gorgeous eyes they relay the message quite well.
I stop struggling and stand still. My captor nudges me toward the bed and slowly we begin to walk toward it. Judging by the size of his fore hooves which are covered in a dark material that clings to his skin, my captor is male. His wings though are uncovered but his colour is impossible to determine in the dark.
As we reach the foot of the bed I am thrown forward, my face pressing into the mattress. I don't struggle or charge magic, my adversary is too close, and if he hit my horn while I was casting a spell…
I shudder at the thought. The closely pressed intruder grunts in amusement, then climbs on my back and pins my legs with his wings. With his hooves free he grabs my mane and pulls. My head arcs up but I grit my teeth and wait, his weight is balanced entirely on my back keeping me from moving. While I may be immobile the technique to hold me down is a complex one, and if either one of upsets the balance I can reverse it.
He leans forward and runs his bared teeth over my neck. I can feel his grin even though I cannot see it and soon enough his purpose becomes clear. I shut my eyes as he bites into my neck drawing a pathetic whimper from me. He withdraws momentarily to growl in delight, as he moves forward to bite again though I lower both my right legs.
He tumbles off me leaving me free to run to the door. I turn to face my attacker who has rolled onto his hooves again and is preparing to lunge. I leap and him catching him by surprise and grab his neck into a headlock with my other hoof held above his head. I am about to bring my fetlock down on him when I feel my legs become swept from under me.
We both fall back onto the bed teeth bared in pain and rage. He recovers first grabbing my neck and pushing hard. I fight the instinct to try and pull him away and instead focus on his other hoof, I can live with little air but if he lands a hit on my sternum I will spasm and become helpless.
He raises his other leg for a hit leaving his chest wide open. Taking the opportunity I aim my left hoof at his out-spread fetlock and my other swing at his gut. Both collide, the skin tight clothing doing nothing to soften the blow leaving him doubled over in shock. His grip fails as my hard hoof collides with the joint in his leg, allowing me to rise up again.
I lunge, tackling him onto his back and holding his and pointing my horn to his exposed head. He snorts in amusement as I realize my mistake. Before I can pull away his hooves grab mine and he flexes his wings, the force sending him into the air with me tucked against his chest.
I feel myself being thrown away over his head. I see a brief glimpse of the high ceiling and charge my horn. With a flash I am underneath and behind him with my momentum carrying me upwards. I grab his wings and brace myself as I fall back to earth. He spins around tensing his muscles angling his belly toward the roof, there is no escaping this. I hit the mattress hard with his weight crushing down on me. I don't release though, I am exhausted and dizzy from the quick teleport.
He struggles, pressing his wings against me momentarily before stopping, my left hoof is around his midsection just above where I hit him. The other is around his neck in a tight choke hold. I can't think much, I know he's more athletic and slightly injured, but I have no idea how to stop him. So I simply wait not surrendering my grip on him.
Some time passes and eventually the struggles cease. I hear a strangled groan and feel his muscles relax. I stop applying pressure on his neck but keep hold of it for good measure. We lie there for a while, his head occasionally moving from side to side looking over at the tangled mass of limbs. His breathing slows as he softens into my hold. My mind swims with worry. He was a fighter, he dared to break into my home and bypassed all these perils and then surrender?
I want to tighten my grip, shake him until he resumes wrestling for control. But as he relaxes further into me I cannot bring myself to do more harm. With a frustrated sigh I release him. I stay where I am panting for a few moments until I look up at him. His eyes are just visible in the poor light and the brilliant blue orbs stare back at me with what I can only hope is a submissive gesture.
Grunting in effort I push him off me and let my horn glow enough to let me get a good look at him. True to my suspicions he is clad head to tail in a dark skin-tight garb that looks like Spandex. The only parts of him uncovered are his wings and tail which is tied in a band and damp with sweat.
I feel heat rise to my cheeks along with a twisted smile. My horn is already charged with magic and my focus could not be clearer. His eyes widen as magic engulfs his entire body. The mask is torn off letting his blond mane fall over his face. My heart misses a beat as he shakes it out of his face and blows it away from his face.
I know he has a temper under the cool guise of professionalism, and I am determined to be as provocative as possible. True to his words though he does not flinch as I look at him hungrily. I want to get up and continue our game, an office stiff like me should have no chance against a stallion like him. Seeing my grin he curls his fore hooves against his belly.
I feel my heart pick up its pace again, nights like this are a surprise for me with some new way to beat me into submission. Instead though he just pulls the already tight body fitting causing tears to appear everywhere around his midsection.
I flinch as the material snaps revealing my fully erect prize. My eyes drift toward his, I already know everything about each inch of his impressive length, being on the receiving end of it more times than I could remember does that.
Instead I want to see his face. This is the first time I have won and I want to remember every detail of it. He looks smug even in defeat, his eyes are wide in mock terror and even with his training I can see a semblance of a smile creeping up the corners of his lips. A smile of my own grows as I put grab the end of the bed for support and move body over his, he has a lot to learn about losing and my excitement is palpable.
I hang for a moment in anticipation as he shuffles around under me to get a better position, before long though I let low groan as a tongue draws along my shaft. He starts with long strokes along my entire length before putting his mouth the tip, coaxing another low groan as he begins to bob back and forward.
While he's busy working his way up and down my length an idea comes to mind. I stand up and withdraw from his mouth with a wet pop, as I stand on my hind legs hear a barely audible whine escape his muzzle.
I cannot help but show a couple of teeth as I loom over him with a malicious grin plastered over my face, his look of false fear does not waver as he looks into my eyes submissively and moves up to continue sucking me off. Without a routine to follow he stares at me before I guide him up toward my throbbing length.
I have had a while to think of a few ideas to try, I wait until he has half of my length in his mouth and quickly place a my hoof on the back of his head. He hesitates for a moment as I lean on him to balance better on two hooves only. I regain my grip though and gently push him forward each time after he withdraws letting him take more of me with each attempt. A few tries later my patience snaps, and just as he pulls back I hold him still by his mane.
He groans, sending vibrations up my shaft and looks directly into my eyes, my hips buck forward a little at the sight prompting another cute moan. His hesitation only lasts a moment though, as I savour the feeling he slowly starts to move forward, his tongue squirming against underside of my cock.
I groan in delight struggling to keep standing, I rarely enjoy blow jobs, but I can feel myself getting closer to the edge, my hoof being pulled along by his eager head fighting whether or not to let his continue his ministrations.
With a grunt I pull him back, not wanting to finish too early and hold him still in front of my twitching member. I release him and fall back on four hooves sliding back into routine. I look at him hungrily and he turns around to present his rear to me keeping his tail down to hide my prize.
I saunter up to him purposefully and sit just before him. I know he is watching me and stick my hoof into my mouth, coating it with spit as I lift his tail. I run my hoof around his entrance making sure there is little friction for him for later. He extends this courtesy to me only as a formally, but unlike him I have a mean streak and put pressure on his ass.
His watch him squirm as the thought of hoof play crosses his mind. Its not one of my kinks and neither is using fear, the moment was too good though and I withdraw my hoof after I see him grit his teeth and shut his eyes. It is nice to know he would not have stopped me should I ever try to hoof him, I’m not after nice though. I rear up and place both of my forward hooves against his back. With the momentum, and guided by magic I bury most my length into him.
His muscly form shudders and I hear him snort in pain. I give him a moment to adjust before starting at a slow pace to loosen him up. It has been weeks since I have been inside him and with every movement I can feel his walls constrict around me. I quicken my pace and start thrusting with more force. I can hear him panting and the sounds of my hips slapping against his are intoxicating enough to give my horn a low charge.
With the dim light I can see his face contorted in a mix of pain and euphoria. His teeth are gritted as he grunts, trying to choke back expletives, he is rarely the sub in our moments and he is beginning to look like the tough son of a bull I love. Muscled, funny and a damn good rut giver.
Thinking about his size I pull out momentarily, still panting and back up. He looks at me longingly and sighs at the sudden absence of pleasure. Staying confident and full of adrenaline from the 'foreplay' we had earlier I motion for him to roll over, and when he is on his side trying to tuck his rigid wings to his side to avoid lying on them I levitate him up and onto his back.
He looks concerned in the low light as he lands softly onto the mattress and gets dragged to the middle of the bed by my magic. I walk over to him and pin his limbs down as I position myself over his throbbing member, I have never won truth be told until now but truthfully I never hated being underneath him either.
This time though I intend to ride him out on my own terms. I sit over his crotch and guide his rock hard dick toward my flank , I can feel my tail twitch as- "No". I freeze up and in panic teleport completely off him. I flash back into existence and look over him for any damage.
Not a mark is on him, I know there are charms on both of us to heal damage and dull pain but the concept of causing permanent damage to him is still vile. I look into his eyes and receive a reassuring, but still shaken glance.
It takes a few seconds of confusion before I realize my error and his dejected stare tell me all I need to know. Seven to one gender imbalances can get nasty in the summer, being held down spread eagle in the middle of a bed with a shapely, but still effeminate figure above you. It’s something every stallion fears and all part of the job for him.
I give him an apologetic look and move closer toward him for a kiss, he stops my lips with his hoof though and nods once. I look at concerned, if I couldn't care less if I had to stop entirely, I was too eager and feel awful. He smiles slightly as he runs a hoof up my leg, his eyes tell me once more though all I need to know. I hum in contemplation, if he is fine to continue I really want to finish my way.
I turn away from him and walk to the opposite side of the bed and kneel down keeping my rump raised for him. He looks at me quizzically he looks at me quizzically then at his cock which only has a small amount of pre over it. I bite into the pillow and look at him with half lidded eyes, he gets the message and slowly stands up and makes his way over to me.
He grabs the end of my tail in his teeth and brings it up over to my head. As he runs his wings against my hind legs I close my eyes as I lightly shake with anticipation. He would never do something like this if he won our game, the feel his hot breath against my ear is irresistible and I arch my back trying to get closer.
As he moves to nibble at my ear I feel something hot press against me. Knowing what awaits me I moved my rear back toward it, only to feel it slide up against my flank. I whine in disappointment, I can't stand teasing like this.
I hear a soft chuckle just behind my ears. He pauses to nibble one before he harshly grabs hold of my flank and thrusts forward. I feel white hot pain fill me and cry out moving my legs further apart for him, his balls slap against me as he pounds his muscular hips against mine in a quick rhythm as my inner walls clench and contract against the hard intruder.
I feel my jaw fall lose and just moan incoherently as he continues to fuck me. His hooves are holding me and in this state I can't move an inch out of his grip. I am completely immobile in his grasp, but I am not afraid despite his size, a single word and he will stop and instantly and free me.
The pain has almost entirely faded but the intensity stays the same, the no holds barred style I love. The sudden feeling of shock as you are confronted, the thrill of resisting, the surprise in winning, and the feeling of ecstasy afterwards being rutted, hard and long, its perfect.
I hear him grunt and feel his thrusts become sporadic and uncontrolled. I know what’s coming, but can't speak a word, I simply sink further into his embrace. With a final thrust he bites my ear, I give a weak cry as the feeling of warmth spread inside me. The feeling is too much and I reach my own peak with a loud moan.
My horn explodes with colors and lights above my head as my member coats the sheets below me with several loads of seed. We stay like that for a moment before my strength completely leaves my legs. I don't worry about falling, I feel legs wrap around me and lift me from the ruined bed. I try to help with some magic but I can still see stars, and other traces of magic.
He gently places me on top of him as he lies on his back while I rest my head against his chest and the rest of my body on the clean side of the bed. I feel his wing wrap around my back and hold me closer while I cuddle up to him, utterly exhausted and satisfied.
I look up at my lover who, despite his remarkable stamina, is moments away from sleep. I smile and weakly move up to kiss his neck tenderly before he dozes off, he groans softly and moves his chin up in response. As his taxed breathing becomes soft snores I rest my head back on his barrel and wait for sleep.
I would need it come the next morning when I repay him.
Call me a cynical pony but I have never seen the royal guard as being much of an armed force. Sure we have the numbers and equipment to be Equestira’s one and only standing army, but without anything to attack beside training dummies the job becomes acting like a second police force. Now this is a problem for most of the guard because most of our commanders take pride in maintaining the ‘order through the border’ by standing around. And if funding is low falling back on our secondary line of work as temporary statues for hire to keep the peace.
I usually don’t have a problem with being on the better side of a free market world when the big monopoly business is on my side, we are a big imposing force and to be honest those stone masons never stood a chance. But most ponies think of us as the third line of defence behind the elements of Harmony and niceness in that order. Call me ambitious but I like to be known for more than just the only line of defence that imposes taxation in order to work.
Don’t get me wrong though I know I do something to keep order every time I clock in, I just happen to be more devoted to my job than the regular grunt. Sure the bed is nice and hard, and there is a decent wage to be made if you can stand biting your tongue hard enough to not tell every passer-by at a royal event that you not only know all of the fifteen hundred bits it takes to make a suit of armour. But you personally enjoyed melting every ‘hard earned’ bit from their pouches into something you wear on patrol duty around the west sewerage grate.
What makes me irritable is the danger. Of all the cities in Equestria, Canterlot is the unofficial home of the guard. On a good day we can pack the streets with soldiers and check every house if we thought the princesses were in danger. However that is not how the guard works, the policy we know and love is that nopony crosses anypony while there is a guard around.
When there isn’t though things can get messy, injustices to equine kind are found in alleys or their own houses usually in a bad way. We know it happens and if the brass gets worried enough we get them a pair of eyes to watch over whoever we think is at risk, always sticking to the guard philosophy of protecting ponies by being capable defenders.
I don’t pretend to be much of a paragon protector, knowing what they say about throwing stones when you live in cloud houses. And I obeyed that phrase like any good colt, the second I lived in a solid house, on a good solid - quite possibly made of stone bunk - I was going to go after the first bunch of misfits who dared threaten anypony in my good city again.
About two seconds into my vow of justice the clerk from the front desk runs into the wrong room and tells us to suit up and go across the street to the apartment block. I didn’t have much time to rethink my recent promise when I was buckling into gear so I stuck by it. No less than a minute later I was standing in the hallway of some decent looking place staring at a senile stallion crying on the floor.
He’d been banging on the door begging to be let in for a good hour or so before his age finally caught up with him. The owner had called in the precinct claiming to have been harassed by the guy for a while and was happy enough to wait for the old guy to leave. An hour later of tears somepony finally noticed and called us.
I didn’t know Heavy Step back then so I did what any guard would do in my position. Helped him into his cell for the night, gave him a place to sleep tomorrow and listened to his side of the story. I have to thank him for introducing me to his son later if he is still alive, hopefully rotting in his house alone and bitter.
So being the good vengeful sort I went to the ancestry files and saw exactly what I thought. Blank files left right and centre of the pony in question. I knew old man did in fact have a son who was removed from his family, without factual backing though I immediately assumed it was just another would be upper crust degenerate pushing around a lesser stallion and getting a kick out of it.
I couldn’t prove his guilt, couldn’t believe how much the poor stallion was drinking up my pay check trying to remember his son’s face and didn’t have the authority to conduct a search. I did however have the thirty bits left over from the receptionist who wandered into the wrong division of guards. A quick hushed conversation later I was on the recommendation list for the Celestial Service Protection list.
Long story short the CSP foundation were a special division designated to act like bodyguards to whoever the crown deemed important enough. When I first got a look at Bright’s I thought he was a completely different guy. He was a twitchy guy who would wore magically shielded clothing and always had a private carriage ferry him to and from his place to wherever he went.
On top of that if you looked carefully enough he would only talk when spoken to first and never for long unless somepony asked him a personal question, which he usually deflected. I hated who he was, but decided if I wanted to get close to him I better talk to him, act more like a friend than a guard.
A week later he was walking to work with me alongside him, a week after that we started talking about, inevitably if you happen to be male, mares and such over dinner. I’m not sure if that counted as a date in his book, especially after he told me of his preferences in a stallion, a little while after that I got invited inside his house. To be honest since I met him I knew he was slightly eccentric and I watched enough movies to paint a good picture of what a paranoid pony’s house would have looked like if I ever saw one and he didn’t fit the description.
When we walked past the station and he greeted all the guards by name, I was a little suspicious seeing as not even I could tell us apart in the armour. When he undid all eight deadbolts to his arrow proof door I thought he was a little over cautious. When I entered his apartment I immediately thought of my old barracks.
His home if you could call it that was two rooms, a work and living room with a desk where a couple of hundred papers and a disassembled cross sat. A kitchen with enough non-perishable foods to challenge the princess’ bunker and enough long knives to rival the royal kitchen and armoury combined.
Never in my life have I been more thankful for the stoic faced training they teach in basic. Because it was not until he opened his pantry after three minutes of polite small talk until I finally got the ‘inspiration’ to have a long talk about his fears. It was none of my business as a bodyguard, not even as a friend. But I could not justify my actions as acting out of guilt or pity.
I asked him innocently if he had trouble sleeping at night. He said he had the best money could buy around him. And I, with my boundless charm said there was no better way to ensure his safety unless I stayed the night. He was slightly sceptical at first, but being an expert in security and blunter than a hammer I informed him that spooning was second to nothing in terms of feeling safe at night. I barely noticed the wires digging into my back with his head on my chest, or the hoof cannon under the pillow.
Over the next month there were walks together for no other reason for being in each other’s company, a nice promotion if you ask me since in the halls in the palace are much better than the building he worked in before and my job was to protect him everywhere he went.
His home became. Well homey, deadly weapons disappeared, walls where pained and the gryphon who refunded the handgun of questionable legal status helped move the new furniture in. A nice fellow once you get used to the smell of sulphur.
My client was changing as well, I introduced him to an old flame of mine and she gave him a hobby at the local clinic, somewhere that would get him recognised and feel slightly better about him. Neither of us has the time to do anything substantial outside our jobs, but it’s a nice gesture and helps feed the soul, and his ego at some points during water cooler conversations with co-workers or dinners with me.
It was on the eve of our fifth official date when I asked him about his life before coming here. The happy mood he was in completely shattered. The moment his adorable smile disappeared I knew I overstepped a boundary and apologised, he trusted me though and invited me inside for what had to have been the thousandth time.
Since I had first arrived the place had changed a lot, we followed the usual routine of me removing his coat and sitting down on the couch. Neither of us drinks much, at home at least, so I knew I was in for a talk when he grabbed a whole bottle and no glasses.
He sat down next me started talking when he had drowned two huge gulps of liquor, and told me of a stallion called Heavy Step. I think he got through a third maybe a quarter of his life story before the bottle ran out.
I gave him one of the biggest hugs I could muster and said sorry more times than I can remember. And despite what I presumptions ponies may make about his physique he’s a strong stallion, he returned the hugs and his usually stiff upper lip trembled a bit, but he didn’t cry. He moved into a building with more security than some prisons I have seen, and hired a coltfriend to keep him safe.
A couple of tears from me later and he was still incoherently spilling his heart out about how happy he was since we met and begging me to stay with him and things like that. The second I said yes though, and I don’t exactly remember what he asked me he tensed up. I was still deep in thought about what he told me so I made the second promise in my life where I didn’t know everything about what I signed up for, the first being ‘to protect ponies from danger’.
Whatever it was within seconds he relaxed and whispered something ending with “you” before falling asleep. He’s tougher than he looks but nopony is invincible, with liquid courage running him I think he said something that might have caused me to pause before it he passed out.
I was with sitting next to my sleeping special somepony with a wing draped over him and being used as a pillow, the whole cliché shebang. And all I could think about was how I nearly let his farther inside the one place he thought he was safe from him. I was willing to let a stallion live in my home, eat my food and drink away my pay check and listen for hours on end to him complain about his rich and greedy son while I did paperwork.
A stallion who was still in my home.
I knew Bright was a light sleeper, so carefully I slid my wing off him and held my breath as shifted in his sleep and held me slightly tighter. Slowly and cautiously I angled out of his grip, my gut wrenched as I saw him shift uncomfortably, searching for his source of comfort.
I stood there for a minute, I wanted to join him and do what a good spouse should do. The word was hardly befitting of though, if I really wanted to be with him I would have asked him without wanting to shove an elderly stallion in his care. Grabbing my spare keys I slipped out of the room and breathed a sigh of relief when Bright was still on the couch. Before the weather came in through the hallway chilling me to the bone, I wished I had brought my armour which would still be at the foot of the bed we shared.
It was not mine, I simply slept in it, Bright bought it a while ago when he wanted to ‘surprise’ me one day. The same went for a lot of stuff in the apartment, not that I really looked at it that much. I never really thought about his new décor as anything more than a sign that he was getting more comfortable around me. Not that he had gone to such lengths to make me feel more welcome.
As I landed at my door all I wanted to do was leave the key and break the lock, just leave this part of his life as a memory of a monster being charted away forever. I could have just left him alone with enough hard cider to kill him, it would have been the merciful thing to do if Bright finished that story of his.
When I opened up to find the stallion reading through the list of finances I left on my desk my heart stopped. A small red note I sent to the shipping mare was still there with the address of Bright’s apartment on it. He takes a long look at me, and after a second or two of silent staring I tell him I found his son. And then unless I get him a couple of thousand bits a week the whole of Canterlot will know Bright’s less than humble origins. And I have been on duty at those long enough to know how seriously the upper crust take their ancestry.
I would have bargained with him, not for bits or love for his son because I was entitled to neither. Part of me wanted to know why he started hurting Bright, and hope to find some reason behind him. while the other part wanted him to do the right thing and roll over and die. He would have laughed if I had bothered to tell him before leading him on the ground to his son’s place, en route to ruin his life. I could tell from his gait he had been planning this ambush though or finally ran every pub nearby dry the day before.
And thank Celestia because he could finally move fast enough to give me time to think, reputations count for a lot in this city. You gain and lose friend and enemies based on who you are and what you have done and I had a lot of time to do some soul searching when I was slowly brining my lover’s worst nightmare to his home.
For instance I imagine the only thing scarier than having somepony find out you are a child abuser in the company of a royal guard is having somepony stomp on the ground and yell to a crowd of bruisers ‘hey guys, child abuser’ then leave you alone.
Never heard of Heavy Step again. No suspicious bodies turned up the next day, or up to this day. As far as I know there were no shouts in protest or even bright lights from spells. All I remember of the evening was going home.
I crept into the apartment and immediately noticed the stallion on the couch. And how he was not my coltfriend. He was in the other being comforted a mare in night guard armour. When we locked eyes there were no sudden jumps of joy at or waves of relief, there was only tears and my distraught apologies. When we had both finished I gave a full account of my whereabouts and activities to the guard.
I saw him flinch at the mention of his dad but neither of the guards saw it. When they left I joined them and as punishment they kicked me out of the CSP division. And in hindsight I am kind of glad they did.
I’m a strong believer in second chances, and a bigger believer in letting the universe judge you. I didn’t have a lot of faith in myself for losing a lot of my pay check, but I got the damn thing after blackmailing a desk jockey and spent nearly half of it every month keeping a revenge scheme busy in my house.
I knew this was not the end of me and certainly not the end of us. And I’m glad I only had to tell that to Bright. Breaking and entering a primes to make an apology is not something I plan to do unless I forget his birthday or something. When I finished cleaning the blood off my brow though and he asked me why I had bothered coming back here, my second chance was more like his in lieu of mine.
But I suppose stallions really love it when you pay attention to the little things, and risking jail just to keep a promise he couldn’t remember holding me to is a good first step to forgiveness. The next five involve sleeping alone and walking on eggshells for a while but the only part I don’t really understand was the first bit. He still says that risking everything for something nopony else would care about was a ballsy move. But even months later of reminiscing on the couch together he can’t remember what he said.
He has yet to ask me what I was thinking when I said yes, and it may have been the blunt force trauma’s fault rather than mine, but for the life of me I cannot remember either.
But there are more important things to worry about in the future. Bills, promotions that will get me closer to him again, deployment calls and whether or not he will ask me to garrotte him in shower for our anniversary sex. Quite sure the last one will keep me up at night, but what is missing from my list of worries is two things.
One being the Heavy Step and two being the fear of a permanent break up sort of death. And the death of every powerful necromancer in the land. Our story is far from a happy ending, but Its one in the making and judging by the messages we send each other not likely to be short of a happy one.
Right now though I don’t have time to contemplate our relationship’s end, because my world does not include a future or past in it. It consists entirely of the moment and the magic running along my back. I am twitch and shiver as it runs inexpertly down my waist somehow hitting every sweet spot on my lower back. I hear my lover softly say “turn over” and with much care to avoid brushing my stiff wings against anything I lay down before him with a sultry smile.
His eyes dart down to my waist then quickly return to meet mine. I close my eyes just as he lowers his head and moan as he starts, sure there’s a way to go for us. But I can predict a pretty happy ending coming up.
