Approximately two and a half hours, an epic light show, several awkward autograph signings and a trip to the flower shop later, Spike found himself trekking down the moonlit streets of Ponyville in much more acceptable and casual attire; a v-neck, green scarf, jeans and a silk coat. Okay, casual by his standards. All those years of moonlighting for a certain somepony taught him how to stand out when it came to clothing. He regretted not bringing the matching fedora along for the ride, just to see if Sweetie Belle liked the dark and mysterious look.

He pulled the coat tight across his chest and gave a heavy breath because it was cold. Like, really cold. The excitement of the concert was the only thing keeping him warm and that was gone after a successful performance on Sweetie Belle’s part.

The bouquet in Spike’s grasp was a collection of blue roses (He used a hefty bit of his paycheck to get them in that color), and tucked under his arm was a box of assorted chocolates, the sort a skinny robed lady would be eating in a commercial by the truckload and yet somehow remain skinny. Spike knew Sweetie had a constant hankering for candy, it was in her name. While it would be common for a teen idol’s waist to be concave, Sweetie wanted to send a positive message to her female demographic. “Eat some sugar, girls. There’s nothing wrong with little chub,” she’d always say. Her record label was none too happy about that, Spike remembered the shouting match over the radio fondly.

He looked up at the luxurious yet charmingly rustic hotel, then used his free hand to pull out the letter Sweetie Belle had slipped into his pocket. How she did it, he had no idea. “She probably used an invisibility spell, she’s good at that sort of thing, avoiding the paparazzi and all...” He scanned over the letter. He’d already read it at least twice back at the auditorium but he wanted to certify that he had a sure thing going on. Sweetie Belle’s fancy handwriting alone made him feel warmer.

Hiya, Spike! Sorry we didn’t have a chance to talk before the performance. Rarity kept coming into my dressing room to change my outfit. I had to lie that I spotted Fancy Pants, then she got all flustered and buggered off to look for him. She’s gonna get mad at me later. I think she’s got the hots for him.

Anyway, you should definitely come visit me. I’m in the penthouse of Paradis Des Chevaux. None of the paparazzi know I’m here, and I’d rather keep it that way, so be discreet, okay?

Love from Sweetie Belle.

PS! Really sorry about the awful suit, the label forced my hand.

Spike's mind raced for a second. "Rarity was here? How did I not— Aw, she dotted the i’s with hearts.”

Any other dude getting a personal invite from a rising starlet would take offense to that advice. Be discreet. Spike knew well enough that if the paparazzi once hounded Fluttershy like timberwolves for the sheer excuse that she existed, then it wouldn’t be above them to call out Sweetie Belle on an interspecies relationship. “Celestia forbid, she might end up on PMZ.” He shuddered at the thought. Or maybe it was the sensation of somepony tapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey, superstar.”

“Vinyl, uh, hey.” Spike let the DJ take the lead like the gentledrake he tried to be. She opened the double doors to the hotel lobby and swaggered inside like she owned the place. “You’re staying here, too?” Spike asked as he followed her inside.

Vinyl stretched out her arms, which certainly emphasized her assets. It was like she was deliberately showing herself off for Spike, but he was too distracted to care. “Yeah, I’m in the fourth room of the third floor, I just stepped out for some fresh air.”

The walking pair passed by the doormare. She gave them both a friendly wave before returning to painting her nails.

“Fresh air? From what?” Spike asked. He chuckled as Vinyl slid into the elevator like a smooth criminal, and he mirrored the action. He then hit the button for the third floor, followed by the one for the penthouse suite. I'm comin' for you, Sweets. He crinkled his snout. Phrasing. Boom.

Vinyl blushed furiously at his question, mashing her legs together. Evidently, at a glance, she wasn't wearing anything that could qualify as underwear. “Well, it’s been a long time since I had Octavia alone, and we're both hopped up on post-concert relief and apple cider. We decided to make the best of the night." She scratched the back of her head. "It’s gotten pretty damn heated.”

Looks like everypony's getting laid tonight. “Using a few of the tricks I taught you?” Spike asked. He thought up a few memories back, particularly ones of Vinyl breathing heavily with her chin on his shoulder. Their heads were still. Their hips, not so much.

The elevator doors slid shut and the lurch of the ascent forced Spike into a stumble. He could never get used to that. He ended up with a face full of Vinyl's marshmallow. Just like one of those Japaneighse cartoons Twilight kept hidden on the top shelves. Only with less tentacles.

“Enjoying the ride, are we?” Vinyl chirped. She did nothing to remove Spike from her cleavage. The drake resisted his every primal urge telling him to enjoy it. Well, he did enjoy it, but his mind was elsewhere. He backed away, muttering apologies under his breath, while he ensured the chocolates and flowers weren’t smothered.

“Just so you know, that was the same place Octy was several times over the past hour and a half,” said Vinyl. She was blushing, but as per usual she looked very cocky. There was just no such thing as molestation for this mare, only compliments. “Want to know where I was?”

“Uh...” Before Spike could protest Vinyl held up two fingers to his muzzle, grinning sadistically all the while. Spike backed away and covered his nose. “Celestia, Vinyl! What makes you think I want to know that?”

The DJ gave a shrug. “What? It smells like cinnamon." She actually gave her digits a whiff. The audacity, Spike thought. "And why so prudish? You’re not a stranger to my goods. You're never this... reserved,” she said that mockingly, "under the covers."

Spike waved her off and looked away, resting one hand on the elevator bars. He couldn't afford to get aroused by anypony but the one. It was part of his dragon code. A different sort of dragon code, one that wasn't just made up as a child's excuse for responsibility. Mares deserve a dude with tact, he would always remind himself. “Vinyl, you know I love you, but the only mare I want to think about right now is Sweetie Belle. She personally requested to see me. Me, myself and I. You know what that means, of course.”

Vinyl’s smile disappeared as she looked to Spike, a glint of hatred in her eye. Her magenta eyes gave a flash of red. They tend to do that. “You lucky bastard!” She gave a punch to Spike’s chest. It hurt him much more than it should have, but they laughed anyway. “You didn’t have to lay on the class act, you just needed to show up to the gig and she gave you the call? Do you have any idea how jealous I am right now?” She eyed the plastic box under Spike’s shoulder. “So I can assume those aren’t for me.” She tapped her hoof. "Damn, I needed a pick-me-up, and those energy supplements taste like boiled concrete."

Spike wasn't about to leave a good friend dangling when she had a reputation to live up to. He shrugged, then reached into the box and pulled out one of the smaller bits, a cluster of peanuts wrapped in white chocolate. He knew Sweetie never cared for those ones. He gave it a casual toss. “Here, it matches your coat beautifully.”

“Aw, Spikey Wikey!” Vinyl caught the sweet and put it in her pocket, a devious look crossing her face. “You just gave me an extra hour of wrestlin' time. Imma put this to good use later.”

“Speaking of later,” Spike said, raising his head up, “this totally isn’t the longest freakin’ elevator ride in Equestria!” If he had a watch he would have checked it, and it probably would have said 'dragging-this-out-for-all-it's-worth o'clock.'

Vinyl patted him on the back. Almost too enthusiastically. “Relax, dude. Sweetie Belle’s precious petunias aren’t going anywhere.”

Spike’s eyes darted to the bouquet. “Th-these are roses.”

Vinyl rolled her eyes and snickered at Spike’s adorable dorkiness. Adorkableness. “Wasn't talkin' about the flowers." She patted him on his spines, which she would normally tousle affectionately after a rut, but they were stuck skyward at this point. "Don’t ever change, scalehead. You and your fashion sense, your blunt humor... You could have any mare in the world, you know that?”

“P’shaw.” Spike felt more embarrassed than humbled. Though, she is right.

“Yeah, I know, tonight you’ve got only the one in your sights. You hold her tight and give her a good time, you hear?” Vinyl leaned in close and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and another pat on the back. She whispered into his ear, “If all else fails, you can always join me and Octavia. We’re going aaaaall night.”

Before Spike could answer (He was open to the idea, even if his focus was on Sweetie Belle), the elevator came to a stop. “About time, geez.”

The doors opened to the third floor and Vinyl Scratch took her leave. “Good luck to you, dude. This is where I get off.” She gave Spike the thumbs up, then raised her two unholy digits again. “Phrasing, boom,” she boasted. As the doors closed, she laughed again with a naughty smirk.

With that, Spike was left alone in the elevator, and he dreaded how long the ascension was going to take. “Mistress of time... You are a bitch.”

Thank Celestia, that ride up wasn't nearly as agonizingly long.

All that was left between him and the mare of his recent fantasies was a door and a doorbell. Only the penthouse got a doorbell, obviously enough. Spike reached out and pressed it, and endured the ever too long wait for somepony to respond. He was doing miniature hops, his heart doing backflips, until a simply angelic voice rang out in partial song. “Who is iiit~?”

Even muffled by the walls, Sweetie Belle was a sound worth coming all this way for. “It’s the drake of the ivory keys, Madam Belle,” Spike replied, trying to sound as sappily polite as equinely possible. It was just a little joke he picked up after years of following orders as a glorified maid.

He relished that voice when it sounded out again. “Wow, that was fast! I didn’t expect you to show up so soon, I mean, I have this room for the weekend. Ah, hold on, I’ll get the door.”

Spike leaned against the wall as he heard the jingling of keys, then a thud, Sweetie Belle probably dropped them, and then her hoofsteps growing louder as she approached the door. Every step was in perfect sync to his rapidly pounding chest.

Finally the door opened, and the mare of the hour showed her face. Spike flushed immediately at Sweetie Belle’s natural beauty and let out an involuntary sigh of contentment. As per the quota, she wore no makeup whatsoever, and her curly puce hair fell all the way to her shoulder blades. Spike could still remember when her mane was just neck length, back when she was an elementary schooler. Almost a decade later she looked look a million and a half bits. Eh, more like a million and three quarters, and that’s being stingy.

It was what Sweetie was wearing that gave her an element of purity that was hard to find in show business. She filled out that white robe like nobody’s business. It clung to all the right places of her not-too-skinny body while leaving enough for the imagination to wonder what the star singer looked like underneath. Despite Sweetie being a head smaller than Spike, he felt far inferior in her presence. I'm not worthy, o goddess.

Sweetie took ahold of Spike’s hand and lead him inside the suite with a spring in her step. She was so bouncy, which blurred the line between adorable and sexy. “I’m sooo glad you’re here. It can get lonely hiding from the press, you know that? I just got word that they’re swarming the boutique. Oh, poor big sister.” She pouted.

“Rarity works pretty well under stress. I’m sure she can handle them,” Spike said. He didn’t want to focus on the downsides of fame and fortune. Or Rarity. But the upsides of the former were right in front of him. The almost overly shiny and clean penthouse was large enough to hold a rodeo, absolutely littered with couches and cushions, as well as quite possibly the largest radio he’d ever seen. Speaking of, that thing was playing songs from Sweetie’s first album, back when her voice was squeakier. He rather liked this one in particular, and he found himself humming along.

"Well you're a real tough cookie with a long history
of breaking little hearts, like the one in me.
That's okay, let's see how you do it.
Put up your dukes, let's get down to it!"

“Not my finest work, but it’s still catchy as heck, huh?” Sweetie asked, squeezing Spike's hand tighter. She jumped about some more. "It's so energetic, I love it!"

"Hit me with your best shot!
Why don'tcha hit me with your best shot?
Hit me with your best shot!
Fire away!"

She was rubbing her fingers over his scales, tickling his senses and making it difficult to focus on the music. His eyes kept falling on the prize. He didn't want to be rude and tell her to get on with the ritz, but he doubted he would be able to last much longer. He tried to distract his growing libido with the music again.

“Never gonna get it out of my head.” True story. It stuck with him for weeks after it hit the Top Forty. He once had to the change the station three times to hear something else.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Sweetie let go of Spike and bent over to retrieve a small remote.

Spike would have confessed to staring at her rump as she kneeled down. Or maybe she wants me to. Either way...

“Ah, there we are.” She pressed a single button on the remote a few times until the radio switched over to a much more subtle station, this one playing some light jazz. “Throw your coat and take a seat; what’s mine is yours.”

“I daresay I’ll exploit that privilege, m’lady.” Spike pulled off both his coat and his scarf, swung them around in the air and tossed them smoothly onto one of the many footrests. He then flopped onto the couch facing the unlit fireplace. He then remembered what he had occupying one of his arms. He presented both the flowers and the box to Sweetie. “Hey, I brought you these. A successful performance deserves something almost as beautiful as the performer herself." His smile turned sly. "And I figure we may as well piss off the milksuckers trying to starve you to a stick.”

Sweetie started bouncing up and down once again, having to hold her robe against her chest to contain her, um, excitement. “Oh em Celestia! Thank you, thank you so much!” She immediately snagged the bouquet and took a huge bite out of the blue roses. She moaned with delight at the sugary-sweet moist taste. She paused her chewing for a second. “Wait, the blue isn’t toxic, is it?” she asked through a mouthful.

Why would it be? Good question, though. “Not that I know of.”

"Eh." She swallowed the mouthful immediately, then took ahold of the chocolates and opened them up, levitating the lid into the dustbin. She frowned for an instant. “Aw, one of them is missing. Oh well, this is still very generous.” She eyed Spike curiously. “You know why I invited you up here, of course. You didn’t need to flatter me. I was going to sleep with you anyway.”

Wow, somepony's getting assertive. Spike tilted his head and gave a devil may care smirk. “Oh, I know I didn’t. I just really, really wanted to.” He patted the empty area of the couch and beckoned to her. Showtime.

Sweetie returned the smirk and set the chocolates on the glass table. She swayed her hips and her legs over to the couch and relaxed next to Spike, leaning over to rest her chest against his. The knot of her robe began to come loose, and the cloth along with it, revealing a hefty bit more of her cleavage. Spike could tell by the sultry glare in her eyes that he was supposed to stare. Don't mind if I do! The pleasant view of her large breasts intensified the slight yet very apparent sensuality of Sweetie walking her fingers along the exposed V of his chest. She then cupped her hand around his cheek, pulling his face closer to hers. She puckered her lips and brought them against the drake’s muzzle for a kiss.

For several moments, they stayed like that, building each other up through their locked lips, making hardly any sound beyond their occasional breaths. Eventually, Spike’s lizard tongue breached Sweetie’s lips, working its way inside and flicking at her own tongue. She let out a much more audible moan as she raised her tongue to compete with Spike’s, reaching into his mouth. When their tongues united, they relinquished their lips and let their moist appendages embrace. They then parted entirely, leaving nothing but a small trail of saliva between them.

“Jeepers...” whispered Sweetie. She was overwhelmed. She expected a kiss, but not something nearly as passionate as that. “Wow... I just... I wanted to thank you, Spike.”

“Didja now...” Spike replicated her hushed voice as he moved his muzzle against her neck, burying his claws through the curls of her mane. “Thank me for what?”

Spike knew what exactly, but hearing it from her while his lips and tongue teased at her fur made it far sexier. “Thank you for believing in me, along with the rest of the girls... Coming to my rehearsals, giving me pep talks when I had stage fright... Crum, Spike, do you even have to ask? You were- Ah.” She gasped, quickly escalating into a moan when Spike’s lips suckled where her neck met her shoulder. His teeth were threatening to break the skin, making it all the more dangerous and exciting. “You were there from the start, you know? I wouldn’t be nearly as big if it weren’t for your support.” She wrapped Spike up in an impossibly close hug, which he gladly returned. “How could I not repay that?”

Spike chuckled, patting the small of Sweetie’s back. “Yeah, that’s me, the pinnacle of awesome.”

“Are you ever...” She returned to the sugar bowl for second helpings. That kiss didn’t last as long but it was no less sweet. After that, she reluctantly pulled away, though she didn’t bother to cover up her nearly exposed bust. Spike got an eyeful while he could. “Listen, that concert got me all riled and sweaty, and I hate to do this, but you know how Rarity raised me. I gotta wash up.”

Spike understood immediately, just then taking notice of the sweat on Sweetie’s fur, particularly over her cleavage. It made her all the shinier. “Yeah, I know. Hygiene or die, a Carousel Boutique standard. Do what you have to do, I’m not going anywhere.” He sat back and relaxed, enjoying the view of Sweetie taking her curves to the washroom.

She turned around. "Just give me a sec, okay?" she said, motioning for Spike to stay put, like one would to a dog.

The drake shrugged and held his arms out. "Hey, I'll give you all the secs you need."

Sweetie sang with laughter, and kept doing so long after she left the room and closed the washroom door.

This left Spike to his lonesome, feeling like just a speck in the gargantuan penthouse. He settled for remaining on the couch, crossing his legs and popping one of the sweets- “Ooh, toffee!” -into his mouth. He let his natural body heat melt the chocolate before he chewed slowly. He wanted to keep his motions slow to still his rapidly beating heart. Just that kiss alone had sent his blood into a rampage. He could see his chest thumping.

That’s when he slapped himself across the face. He stood and approached the wide window. It took up nearly the entire wall, giving him a bird’s eye view of Ponyville. He could see Twilight’s library clear across town. But he was more focused on his reflection. It gave him a disapproving glare, one that made him feel so embarrassed he didn't even care that the reflection started talking.

“Why are you being such a prude? Come on, Spike. This is what you came here for. You’re not going to ogle Sweetie Belle’s precious treasures and then chicken out on her.”

Spike responded. “Who said I was going to chicken out? I’m just nervous. I always get a little nervous. Any old pony would be nervous.”

“Yeah, but you’re not any old pony, are you? Here’s my advice.” The reflection leaned over and gave him a wily glare. “Sweetie Belle is in the shower right now, completely bare and vulnerable.”

“Could have put it better than that. You say it like I plan on attacking her.”

The reflection didn’t listen. “Odds are she’s thinking of the many ways she’s going to pleasure you for being such a good friend, and how you’ll ravage her in return. More important than that, she’s thinking of you, you stud. How do you think she’ll take to that?”

The artist within Spike drew up a very vivid mental image. Sweetie’s fur and mane clinging to her body in wet mats as the water drenched every inch of her flawless frame. Miniature droplets clinging to her breasts and nethers, others sliding along her curves. He pictures her picturing him, forcing both of her hands to trail down her belly, then reach between her legs, with her fingers breaching her oh sweet Celestia yes.

Spike grinned, then snapped his gaze away from his reflection. By some miracle, he managed to throw off both his V-neck and his jeans in two quick motions. Then, with a very slight moment of hesitation followed by a shrug, off came the black boxer-briefs. “The dragon has left the cave, Sweetie Belle!" he chimed.

Author's Note

Hit Me With Your Best Shot - Pat Benatar