Lovelinesby SleepIsforTheWeakChaptersMinor Giant StepsLets Start at the Very Beginning... A Very Good Place to StartGive You This, Give You That, Blow a Kiss, Take it BackMinor Giant Steps"Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in The Beyond where the love of our lost one pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy," the stallion said. And the casket lowered. It cranked into the ground. She pressed closer to the body next to hers, expecting the feeling of the figure she'd spent almost the past two years gripping and loving and touching to be there. But she found a different body. White coat instead of yellow. Soft, clean, instead of rugged and rough. She looked up to Jasper. He looked down to her. She looked across the way at her betraying anchors staring back. And then she looked back to the ground. And her eyes clenched shut. It cranked and cranked and cranked. She squeezed closer to her little brother. And again, even closer. But Jasper wasn't there anymore. He was fluffy and where- where was he going? Where did he go? Crank, crank, crank. She needed him. She pressed harder, but the fluffy. The fluffy and the white overtook her. She opened her eyes, willing those anchors away and all she found was pillow. She rolled right, cracked her eyes open further and found wall. She craned left and found short, two-tone grey mane. And then she collapsed back into her pillow with a sigh. She rolled to her side, wanting to sink into the wall, and clutched said pillow. "You alright?" she heard behind her, tension in the voice. There was always tension. There was always an undercurrent. There was always… something. "Fine." "Dream?" "Nightmare." "About?" "The funeral," she muttered and Stormee rolled to her back, sad eyes finding the ceiling. "I had them, too." "After it?" "Yeah." "They've come back recently," Opal muttered and rolled to her back, right hind leg falling against Stormee’s left. Opal tensed instantly. "Do you know why?" Storm murmured. "Could probably guess." "Do you… do you wanna say?" "It feels like three years ago," Opal sighed, foreleg flopping over her forehead and legs stretching out. She was thankful she felt no ache. She'd had one too many margaritas at yet another stifling dinner last night and when one conversation turned into yet another fight, it could've turned bad, really bad. She was thankful it hadn't. She was thankful they'd once again averted angry sex. They'd averted sex at all. "What do you mean?" Stormee whispered, pain and fear lacing her already husky voice. "It feels like there's still an ocean between us." "I know." "You feel it, too?" Opal asked, rolling to her side to look at her. "Yeah." The unicorn dragged her eyes over the choppy hair, the terrified eyes and the matured features angling her face into a frown. "I still love you, you know," Opal whispered and those eyes shot to hers. They knew. Instantly, they knew. " But you're not in love with me anymore, are you?" "No." Opal lied. Her voice betrayed nothing. Stormee gulped and looked away, tears forming on her lids. They fluttered shut and she saw eighteen year old Opal kicking her out of her house. She saw fifteen year old Stormee—herself—not stepping into the other mare and hugging her like she knew she should have. Like she knew Opal needed her to. It felt exactly like three years ago, but this time she had something. She had something and yet, it wasn't anything without Opal. She pulled her eyes back open and lulled her head to the left. She fell upon draining light orange eyes. Granny Smith’s eyes—her heart ripped in two. They drained in more ways than one. They drained out everything: hope, tears, sadness, regret, loss, the weight of the world. "I love you," Storm whimpered. "I know." "I'm sorry." "For what?" "For doing this to us," she wept. "Why did you? Why did you have to leave me for three years?" Opal whispered, swiping her tears and wishing her heart felt differently. She was in love, but she needed out. She needed out more than anything in her life. She needed happiness and light and rainbows; the stuff Storm used to provide. "I needed away from you. I needed away from that town." Stormee whispered. "Was it worth it?" "No." Opal nodded with finality, tears dropping from her jaw and drying on her pillow. She wanted to curl into it, grasp its fluff and sleep for years. "You know, my dream always had you in it. My dream was captured based on feelings built by you. Your dream was about something exclusive of me," she cried. "And now you've found it." Stormee sobbed silently and nodded. "Yeah, I did. But I see you in-" "No buts. I need out. I can't breathe anymore." "Out?" "Of this." "You want to quit?" "My heart already has," Opal whispered. "I'm sorry." The pegasus wiped at her face to no avail, her eyes wouldn't stop leaking, and she was no longer the pubescent teenager who thought crying was uncool. Crying was a relief. "I guess I deserve this." "What do you mean?" "For treating you the way I did. I deserve this, to be on this side of it. Life can balance now, right?" "It's not about that." "Then Celestia, what's it about?" Stormee sobbed, swiping more. "I keep trying to figure out what it's about and there's nothing. There's nothing out there to tell us what to do, what's right for right now, what's right for the future, what could happen and what should be." "I know, darling. I know." "I'm so sorry." "I know you are. I am, too." "What do you have to be sorry for? You're still perfect. You're always perfect. I've never known someone so perfect," Stormee wept. "I should've made us talk. I should've gone back to you after the funeral. I should've understood that you were fifteen and heartbroken about Granny and scared. I should've, I just should've. We failed on talking across the board." "We're talking now. Maybe we can-" "I'm done." "Opal." "I'm done," she whispered. "You can't be done." "You once were. Now I am." "I came back," Storm cried. "And then you left before we were fixed. You left before you gave us a chance. You went back to war." "I…" "It's okay. Maybe we'll come back to each other yet again. But right now, it's over. It's been over, Storm. The only difference is that I finally have the courage to say it." The unicorn’s voice was dead. Final. "I can't live without you." Stormee sobbed. "You did for three years." It smashed into the pegasus like a steamroller. She had. And now she'd get to live without her forever. With that, Stormee rolled into Opal and cried the rest of her tears. Four Years Later The Canterlot Castle was a magnificent sight to behold, even to the ponies of Canterlot, who saw it every day from their high-rise windows. The effect was even grander when one was standing in front of it. She’d never quite get used to it. Her previous experience had been looking out on it from down below, from Ponyville. The north field back on the farm provided the best site for gazing at the suspended castle in the entire village, and she would sigh at it all day long as she bucked trees with Jasper, while her mind wandered away into the future. “It’s gorgeous.” “It is.” “We should get inside.” And they do. The guards at the entrance let them by without a second look, clearly having been told to look for them. Her stomach curls into itself painfully the closer they come to the castle. Did she make Captain? I thought Jasper said Skylar said that she did… She deserves it. Stormee Dash. The first female Captain of the Royal Guard. It's not a big deal. Four years was enough to get over her. And, knowing Stormee, she had had no problem securing other conquests of flesh. Her stomach tightens. They're in the castle now. She can't breathe. "Are you alright, love?" Of course he would notice. He was so attentive. She slams her eyes to his blue ones, slams a smile onto her features. Does he see it's fake? "I'm marrying you, Vance. How can I be anything but perfect?" She pressed closer to him, trying to find comfort in his beaming smile, and then later in his hot, suggestive kiss. She could do this. Vance McElroy was delicious and marrying her. She could definitely do this. Who needed Stormee Dash? She can’t do this. She glares at the paperwork. Turns to glare at the clock. Then the door. It had to happen, didn’t it? Fate, they say. It knows best. Stormee wanted to feed the fuckers who said those words a mouthful of her spear. What to do, what to do? There really was nothing she could do. They’d be here any second. She’d be here any second. Whatever. Stormee was never one to run away. …Except for those two times she ran away like a little bitch and joined the war. But we don’t talk about that. The knock comes. She freezes, and then slams her eyes onto a file report. Look busy. Be professional. “Come in.” she barks, like the Captain of the Royal Guard should. That’s right. She’s a hardened motherfu— The door opens. And there she is. Every time. It never fails. Stormee is almost rocked back by the sheer force of her beauty. It’s so familiar. Oh, so many memories. Opal asleep and curled up next to her after their first date, Opal reading to her over Hearts Warming, Opal gazing lovingly into her eyes. Opal making love to her. That last one. It destroys her in the most beautiful of ways. The tastes, the smells, every word, touch, sigh and pant and whimper and moan and… She wants to jump out of the fucking window. Into a cold lake. She wrenches her eyes open and glares over at the window and slams her hind legs together. This was going to be a complete and utter disaster. “Captain Dash.” Hold up. Who the fuck is that? Oh. Him. Naturally. The groom. Opal’s getting married. What was his name again? “Mr. McElroy.” She remembers at the last second, and then pats herself on the back for not growling the word. Professional. Opal McElroy? No. Just, no. “I just wanted to say, Captain,” McElroy comes forward, gratitude written all over his face. He grasps her hoof and shakes it. “Thank you for protecting our country.” Suck up. Her lips tighten into a thin smile. “The safety of my country and the ones I love is thanks enough, Mr. McElroy.” She says calmly. They are words that were instilled into her on her very first day of Basic. She means them wholeheartedly. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?” she says, her smile disappearing. She needs these two out of her office. Mostly Opal. She needs Opal out of her office. Mostly the temptation. “Yes,” McElroy says, seemingly all too happy to get down to business. He sits. Opal does too. “The Guard has been tasked with the security detail of the wedding.” Stormee starts, but pauses at their shocked looks. She raises a brow sharply. “Is that a problem?” “No, of course not, but…” Opal stammers. “The wedding is held in the Castle.” Stormee drones, all too happy to cut her off. “By the Princess. Not to mention Mr. McElroy’s politician family, and the presence of all six bearers of the Elements, as well as other esteemed guests. The Guard is very much needed.” There’s no reply. Then, “I think it’s a fantastic idea!” McElroy explodes. “Actually, Captain,” he starts, a bit hesitant. He leans forwards. “Could it be arranged that the Guard provide security in other places?” Stormee’s brow inclines, the exasperated look on Opal’s features not escaping her. Overprotective, I see. Maybe a bit overbearing too, hmm? “Myself and a few of my higher-ranking officers can provide security detail at any additional venues before the wedding, as well.” She smirks faintly. “We want you both alive so that your wedding can go off without a hitch.” Frankly, it’s tiresome. And she hates the fact that she cannot refuse. Horrible case of faux pas for the entire Royal Guard, were she to refuse. The Royal Guard always stepped up to the task asked of them. “That won’t be necessary, St—Captain.” Stormee ideally wonders what took the mare so long to jump in. The stumble on her name makes her hold back a grin, and a jealous whine. Her name from Opal’s lips is pure erotic… chocolate. All warm and sweet and… oh, McElroy’s talking again. “Please, love; I just want everything to be perfect.” McElroy starts, almost pleadingly. “Why would someone try to hurt us, Vance?” “It’s always possible. You’re beautiful and I’m not exactly unimportant.” Opal huffs, slumps back into her chair. McElroy turns a wide smile on Stormee. “Thank you for understanding, Captain.” “Of course, of course. I take my job seriously.” She hums, years of being around the Canterlot nobility refining her voice into smooth silk, covering up her previous thoughts of erotic chocolate. “Very well, then.” McElroy repeats, as he gets up. “I believe we’re done here, Captain?” It’s almost nauseating how perfect he is. “Quite, sir. Have a wonderful day.” She chirps back, tearing her eyes away from Opal. They both get up, and it’s done. She stares after them, watching Opal’s backside move enticingly with every step. She’s very sure Opal knows she’s staring, too. Professional. Right. Lets Start at the Very Beginning... A Very Good Place to StartNine Years Ago, May Each time she closed her eyes, she imagined it differently; it's why she stopped closing her eyes. The yearning buried deep in the pit of her stomach went from burrowing with a small overnight bag to having set up camp, built a community, and held elections. Two years would do that. For two years, she did everything asked of her. For two years, she watched as her heart slowly left her own body and took up residence in the unicorn's. For two years, she rode the coaster that rocked her life so magnificently. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't help it. She couldn't fight it. It was a beautiful, unexpected crash of pure, meant-to-be passion. And still, each time she closed her eyes she imagined it differently. Everyone told her, "Your first love is the worst." Add the fact that her first love stole her heart at age of thirteen, held it for the next two years and then turned her back on a whim and Stormee figured her "worst" was worse than most. It was the absolute worst, the ultimate worst. The worst that everyone prays they don't experience. And here she was, experiencing it. Life experience, they say. Live it up. Embrace it. It makes you who you are. Ridiculous. Her life experience stole who she was. It ruined who she was. She didn't believe any of their one-off, feel-better one liners. She hated life experience if it meant she felt like this. She felt robbed; robbed of her heart, robbed of her adolescence, robbed of a healthy future love life, robbed of her sanity, robbed of emotion and happiness, of laughter, of peaceful days, of light kisses, and brilliant orange eyes. She found herself broke, completely, in every sense and definition of the word. Ripped apart from the inside out, devoid of worth, and empty, she was a shell of her former self. Moments of their past haunted her. She loathed the back of her eyelids. She loathed her dreams. She loathed photographs, notes, cards, yearbooks, and the box marked O in her closet. These things held history. They flaunted it right in front of her face and pretended like it didn't matter. It probably didn't, anymore. They met through school. Well, that was a lie, actually. They’d known each other far before school. The Apple family and the Dash family had always been close, and so they practically grew up together. Or rather… around each other. Yes, they were not that close in age—three years glaring between them—so they could never really form that bond. The bond that Jasper had with the twins. The bond that Paz had with Lightning. The bond that only comes when you truly grow up with a pony. That’s okay. It was totally fine that they didn’t have that bond. That bond would have gotten in the way—made things super awkward. Kind of like the love triangle/not-really-a-relationship-except-for-when-it-is/whateverthefucktheywerecallingitnow between the twins and Jasper. Poor Jasper, wedged between the two clear loves of his life, pussying out because he couldn’t choose one. Those three would end up hurting each other something terrible. Everypony knew it. The entire fucking town knew it and held their breath. But that was totally beside the point. The point was, they never really associated with each other much, before school. School was what brought them together. They weren’t really in the same general group of friends, but they ate lunch together because Jasper and the twins, and felt like two third wheels around those three’s never-ending…whateverthefuckitwas. So they started talking. Hesitant, absentminded small talk to drown out the other three occupants of the table. How was your second period? Good. We had a test. How did you do? Think I did pretty good. And then it grew and they became something like friends instead of associates. And then the day came. In retrospect, it shouldn’t have happened. None of it should have happened. It was wrong, and completely terrible. But it brought her something she could never fathom at that point. Something she still had trouble fathoming. Was it all real? Did love as intense and all-consuming as this exist outside of books? It was a mistake. She hated making them. But she was stupid and reckless and lived first, because thinking was for when you were old and had foals and whatever. So she strutted up to the table on that day nine and a half years ago, fearless and confident—maybe even overly confident. She approached the other mare like a fucking ninja, tapped her on the shoulder and then spun around the other way so that when the unicorn looked for the offender, she would not be there. She sat across from Opal in her usual seat. The Drama Three had not arrived yet—probably having a threesome quickie in the bathroom, or something like that. Opal was reading. Not, like, text-book-reading-because-she-forgot-to-do-her-homework reading, but reading-a-book-for-fun reading. Idly, she watched Opal read for a while. The cafeteria was half-full, abnormally calm, most ponies were outside enjoying the weather. “Are you busy tonight?” She didn’t know why she said the words. In truth, she never really planned anything. She winged it, as it were. And it just seemed like the right thing to say. Honestly, she wasn’t having the best day. An argument with Skylar was a supremely common thing in the Dash household. She and Skylar just didn’t get along. Their banter was the stuff that helped Stormee sleep at night. It told her everything was okay in the world. But they did not have very many legitimate fights. But today they had. What was it even over? She couldn’t remember for the life of her, and gave up when she grew bored of thinking in general and then she shut her brain off. Thinking wasn’t good for her. “Why do you ask?” Opal hummed into her book. “You wanna come over?” That got her attention. Opal looked up at her, cocked a brow in that way that Stormee was just beginning to find maybe attractive. “I have homework.” “Bring it.” “I have chores after school.” “Skip them. Topaz can handle the extra work.” “I don’t know, Storm.” She looked hesitant, sounded hesitant. And suddenly, it was all Stormee could think of. It was all she desired for some crazy reason. She just had to get the other mare to come with her. It was probably because she was competitive, and Opal was refusing. “Please? I’ll make it worth your while.” “O-okay.” She turned away after that, sidetracked by the Fabulous Three coming to the table. And that was that. Seven Years Ago, November She brought herself back to her present nothing and looked over to the empty lunch table in the corner, her forelegs wrapping tightly around her stomach in reflex as her eyes fell shut to will away the tears. She begged them to spare her this period. Spare her one hour, please. She needed that hour. The edge of the cliff felt closer each day. She so desperately needed that hour. With deep breaths and calming hoofs stroking over each elbow, she gathered herself and then forced her eyes back open. They immediately fell on none other than her most-beloved and most-dreaded vision: Opal. She stood across the cafeteria, sullen eyes on Stormee. Those foreign eyes bore into her as she froze. She felt the tears. She felt the edge. She felt the void inside echoing the deep rasps of her taut breathing. And yet she couldn't turn away. It would kill her not to, but she couldn't. She looked deeply, digging for anything that told her she still knew Opal. The eyes didn't look the same. The stance didn't seem the same. The near invisible, helpless and hopeless smile that graced the edge of her lips right then even seemed foreign. Her Opal was gone. Gone where, Stormee always wondered. How far away? Could she visit? Would she visit? And then the new Opal was gone, shuffling into the table beside their table. Stormee thought she saw those stranger eyes flicker to it for half a second, but it'd been weeks since she trusted anything she thought she saw. Everything swirled around her and she lost herself more and more on a daily basis. She'd proven herself wrong far too many publicly humiliating times in the past six months. So she stopped trying. She was almost sixteen for crying out loud. Because what the hell was it coming to? What the hell happened to them? Where was her Opal? How did it get to this? When would she stop crying, aching, and dying inside? What would it take? God, what would it take? The full cafeteria gave her no reply. Give You This, Give You That, Blow a Kiss, Take it BackNine years Ago, May The excitement over finally growing a pair still rushed through Stormee as she practically pranced up the stairs to her bedroom with Opal in tow. The unicorn followed at a cautious creep behind her, having never been past the downstairs of the Dash household. And even that was restrained to the kitchen and living room during all the Apple-Dash dinner get-togethers. The door shut behind them and the pep in Stormee's step as she crossed the room was unmistakable. Opal fluttered to a stop near the door and let her eyes take in the pegasus and her humble abode. It was nothing like Opal pictured. Something about Stormee's temperament and general disposition made Opal think the room would be laced with graffiti art and those, those hate-speech posters or something. But the room was nothing like that. It was small. Tiny, even, with only a bed, a giant, looming bookshelf, and a desk. All three were constructed of gorgeous dark wood. Gray was the main color scheme of the room. In fact, it was the only color in the room. It was on the bedspread, the worn area rug, the walls, and the curtains. It made the room look even tinier than it already was and gave a certain feel to the place that Opal could not exactly place. Gloomy? Lonely? A shiver shot down her back, but she shrugged it off and focused on Stormee. The pegasus was sprawled on her immaculately-made bed, watching her with interest as Opal surveyed the bedroom. And that was another thing that struck Opal: the cleanliness and borderline obsessive order that everything was in. Not that there was really a lot of things in the bedroom, but every surface was freshly shined; not a trace of dust or dirt. "You can set up your homework on the desk." Stormee droned helpfully from her lazy slump on the bed. She had procured a book from somewhere in the few seconds of Opal's inattention, and was now flipping through it idly. Opal approached the desk, absentmindedly running her hoof over the polished surface. It was antique, if her limited but present knowledge of home decor served her correctly. Perfect condition, too. "They just don't build furniture well anymore." Absentmindedly, Opal nodded her consent, admiring the endless carvings in the wood. "The desk won't bite, Opal." She nodded again, feeling her face heat up at the tinge of amusement in the other mare's voice as she scooped her books and placed them on the desk. Here, a couple of photographs stood—the only ones in the entire bedroom. They were framed in lustrous metal that caught the light streaming through the window and reflected it. The first was of all seven members of the Dash family—the same one that hung in the Apple living room. The second was simply of a filly Stormee and her eldest brother, Lightning Dash, who was well into his teens. What was he, seven years her senior? Something like that. Yeah, Topaz was only a year younger than him. Opal sat in the rickety chair that was tucked under the desk, frowning at the way it swayed on it's thin, old legs and the rebellious strands of twine that poke her in the flank, and opened her Equestrian Literature textbook with a cold knot of dread in her stomach. Equestrian Literature. The spawn of Tartarus in class form, taught by Hades himself. Time passed, mostly filled with the sounds of birds chirping right outside Stormee's window and the turning of pages. Finally, Opal sat back in the increasingly wobbly chair with an almost inaudible sigh of pure vexation. "Problem?" Opal glared at the textbook in front of her with the burning fury of a thousand suns. "Equestrian Literature. It is the bane of my existence." "What's the question?" Opal huffed, sitting forward and looming over the textbook while reading aloud, "How does the character of Romeo Mountague, from William Neighkespear's classic tragedy, defy the overall gender stereotypes of today's—?" She cut off sharply, feeling Stormee suddenly hover over her shoulder, her wing flaps stirring the uncomfortably hot air of the room to settle onto Opal's back. "Have you even read the story?" Storm asked, bemused, and Opal's eyes fluttered closed at the teasing caress of hot breath on the side of her cheek. Why did it feel so...? "Y-yes. In class." She hadn't understood it. The use such large variety of poetic forms confused her. It was like Neighkespear couldn't make up his mind on how he wanted to write the damn thing, and, and just, ugh. "Well, Mountague is a total filly," Stormee mused, leaning on the desk casually and staring at the very thick book occupying it with disinterest. "Like, in the beginning, he's going on and on about this one mare that he's into. Then at the ball he falls head over hoofs for a mare who's name he doesn't even know. Not to mention, he takes poison to kill himself like a pussy instead of using a dagger like one would expect of a supposedly macho stallion." Stormee rolled her eyes, tsking. But Opal wasn't listening. Had stopped listening. Couldn't focus with the small space between them, frankly. Her body was, was, reacting in a strange way. She was sixteen and had never felt such feelings, such tingles from the simple presence of another body near hers and a breath on her skin. It was new, electrifying, and terrifying. It brushed over the curve of her ear and lit every nerve throughout her body like one glorious domino effect screaming, "Look what you were waiting for!" She never knew she was waiting for it. She never knew she was craving it. She never knew, not anything really, not until Stormee. But maybe it was just hormones? Surely it wasn't anything special. She was sixteen, after all, and lately everything seemed to just be... different. Stormee watched out of the corner of her eye as it all transpired on the unicorn's face, and the flashes of so many emotions from confusion to anxiousness passed themselves over her features. Finally Opal's eyes fluttered closed in something like frustration, and she released a sigh that felt monumental. She released it all. Stormee felt it. And somehow she knew that she needed to act. The urge was misplaced; they had just been discussing Neighkespear for Luna's sake! Homework! Homework was innocent and not at all... this. But the mood shifted between them so dramatically in that moment... surely she would be a fool to squander... Fuck it. Not waiting for Opal's eyes to flutter back open, she leaned in and pressed her lips to the mare's. It was light, fleeting, almost a question of 'is this what I'm supposed to do in this moment?' But Opal didn't push her away, so she guessed it was not totally unwelcomed. They froze like that, stock-still except for the earthquake pounding through them; neither could find a thought to direct something more. Then, movement registered. Still hesitant, still cautious, and Opal inhaled deeply through her nose, needing to steady the shocks pulsing through her as Stormee pushed a bit harder against her mouth, effectively taking her first kiss. Questions raced through Opal's mind faster than she could sort them. What was happening? Celestia, what was happening? The feeling of those still lips pressed against hers unleashed something in her, again. And she had no idea what it meant or what it was. Her shaking hoofs wanted to rise up, dig into the pegasus's mane, open her mouth and kiss her like she was bursting to, but they didn't know how. She was sixteen. She'd never felt lips on her own, much less the perfect pair under the perfect pretenses attached the perfect mare who she'd never looked at before. Celestia! She couldn't think of what to do next. She couldn't picture a book to reference. She couldn't conjure up a show to emulate. She couldn't breathe; remember her name, or much less how to act. So she sat and she let it happen to her. She let Stormee happen to her. And happen it did; the mare started pulling her lips over Opal's. She could hear the ragged breaths coming from her nose. She could feel Opal's hoofs twitching at their sides, wondering what to do and where to go and how to touch. Storm slowed her kisses to almost a crawl. Her own heart pounded in her ears and then she cracked her eyes open as she kissed that top lip, then the bottom, and then took a nip. She saw Opal's eyes fluttering behind their lids. Stormee put all of her harbored feelings behind each slow, pressing kiss, hoping it'd hit Opal over the head and pierce her through the heart. This is what I feel. But the mare just sat there, confused, shoulders shaking, chest heaving, and lips still. Stormee's eyes slid shut again and she moved her hoofs around each side of Opal's neck, pulling her closer, tighter, and almost inside her. "Opal," she breathed out between long, purposeful kisses and pulls to the mare's beautiful lips. The lips she'd wanted to kiss for six months, in a repressed part of her brain that would leave her waking every morning from a pleasant dream that she couldn't remember. Oh, she definitely remembered now. "Opal, kiss me," she begged, tilted her head to fully lock onto the mare and held it. She'd hold it until Opal felt it, whether through feelings or lack of oxygen, Storm didn't care. It pulsed heavily through the larger mare until the gates finally poured open and snapped her inabilities in half. A light bulb exploded inside, taking her thoughts from one slow realization after the next into a full blown light show, a celebration, and fireworks. Oh, the fireworks. So the sayings were true after all. Stormee was kissing her, that's what was happening, he brain snapped at her in elation, as if this fact pleased it greatly. And, wow, she was seriously kissing her. Hmph. She could do this. She could kiss. Opal Apple could do anything—even get the mare, apparently. Her narcissism ignited at that realization and shot new tingles further south than she'd ever felt. Opal gasped for air, ending Stormee's assault. She could definitely do this. And she would. She moaned into Storm and picked herself up off the haphazard chair before the poor thing broke under them, and walked Stormee into their sturdy friend, the wall. She knew he would come in handy the second she walked into that room. She just didn't know it would be like this. She moved into the kiss, tentatively parting her lips to meld with Stormee's. It caused a domino effect of eagerness in the blonde: gripping hoofs, shifting, and tightening cheeks into smiles around the mouth occupying hers. Oh yes, Opal learned how to kiss and quickly; she had no choice in the matter. She wanted to feel and taste all of the mare's lips and, and inside them. Her hair stood on end at the thought, but boy she wanted to feel that eagerness and want again. And each time their mouths parted, she almost took the leap, but settled for nibbling a lip instead. She nibbled and kissed like her life depended on it, maybe it did, just waiting for the moment her first kiss fears would fully die and she could do everything she was imagining in her head, just like the superstar she was. God, why was there no manual for this? Why had Opal not done research? Why did she not freaking know? She could've prepared. She could've been better, the best, for Stormee. Releasing Opal's neck to wrap her forelegs fully around her, Storm brought their bodies together and stood them on their hind legs for more contact. Her forelegs circled tighter and tighter and she couldn't believe her luck when Opal circled around her own waist in return, pulling her unbearably closer. When their bodies met each other, Opal never looked back. That feeling right there was all she needed. She wanted it and would take it. She pulled the mare tighter, parted those lips, and slid her tongue inside. Sounds started to pour out of Stormee's mouth as Opal felt around the sweet, wet warmth and the pegasus failed to stop them. She groaned as their tongues danced and embarrassment flooded her cheeks, but Opal only kissed her deeper, letting the noises spur her on and releasing her own muffled pants in return. Stormee couldn't believe this was happening. Opal was perfect, better than she always dreamed, and in every way. She clenched her hoofs in silky blond mane and her tail curled at the need pulsing through her. She kissed Opal impatiently, wanting to feel every bit of her right that second. Oh, Luna, were mares her age supposed to feel things like this? Surely, surely she could make an exception if they weren't, because this was Opal and Opal was, O-Opal was, was... Her whimpers grew louder and she found herself pinching her teary eyes tighter. She craved for a slight inkling of control or, or she'd never look back. She would tumble, giving everything to this mare in an instant. She couldn't go there, not yet. She could keep steady. She would. She had to. She reined herself in, grasped the control and held it. Held it for dear life. But then Opal sighed into her, releasing a hum of pure joy and heaven and like she'd just found home. And instead, Stormee unraveled around her. It was happening. It was all happening and nothing would stop it.
Minor Giant Steps"Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in The Beyond where the love of our lost one pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy," the stallion said. And the casket lowered. It cranked into the ground. She pressed closer to the body next to hers, expecting the feeling of the figure she'd spent almost the past two years gripping and loving and touching to be there. But she found a different body. White coat instead of yellow. Soft, clean, instead of rugged and rough. She looked up to Jasper. He looked down to her. She looked across the way at her betraying anchors staring back. And then she looked back to the ground. And her eyes clenched shut. It cranked and cranked and cranked. She squeezed closer to her little brother. And again, even closer. But Jasper wasn't there anymore. He was fluffy and where- where was he going? Where did he go? Crank, crank, crank. She needed him. She pressed harder, but the fluffy. The fluffy and the white overtook her. She opened her eyes, willing those anchors away and all she found was pillow. She rolled right, cracked her eyes open further and found wall. She craned left and found short, two-tone grey mane. And then she collapsed back into her pillow with a sigh. She rolled to her side, wanting to sink into the wall, and clutched said pillow. "You alright?" she heard behind her, tension in the voice. There was always tension. There was always an undercurrent. There was always… something. "Fine." "Dream?" "Nightmare." "About?" "The funeral," she muttered and Stormee rolled to her back, sad eyes finding the ceiling. "I had them, too." "After it?" "Yeah." "They've come back recently," Opal muttered and rolled to her back, right hind leg falling against Stormee’s left. Opal tensed instantly. "Do you know why?" Storm murmured. "Could probably guess." "Do you… do you wanna say?" "It feels like three years ago," Opal sighed, foreleg flopping over her forehead and legs stretching out. She was thankful she felt no ache. She'd had one too many margaritas at yet another stifling dinner last night and when one conversation turned into yet another fight, it could've turned bad, really bad. She was thankful it hadn't. She was thankful they'd once again averted angry sex. They'd averted sex at all. "What do you mean?" Stormee whispered, pain and fear lacing her already husky voice. "It feels like there's still an ocean between us." "I know." "You feel it, too?" Opal asked, rolling to her side to look at her. "Yeah." The unicorn dragged her eyes over the choppy hair, the terrified eyes and the matured features angling her face into a frown. "I still love you, you know," Opal whispered and those eyes shot to hers. They knew. Instantly, they knew. " But you're not in love with me anymore, are you?" "No." Opal lied. Her voice betrayed nothing. Stormee gulped and looked away, tears forming on her lids. They fluttered shut and she saw eighteen year old Opal kicking her out of her house. She saw fifteen year old Stormee—herself—not stepping into the other mare and hugging her like she knew she should have. Like she knew Opal needed her to. It felt exactly like three years ago, but this time she had something. She had something and yet, it wasn't anything without Opal. She pulled her eyes back open and lulled her head to the left. She fell upon draining light orange eyes. Granny Smith’s eyes—her heart ripped in two. They drained in more ways than one. They drained out everything: hope, tears, sadness, regret, loss, the weight of the world. "I love you," Storm whimpered. "I know." "I'm sorry." "For what?" "For doing this to us," she wept. "Why did you? Why did you have to leave me for three years?" Opal whispered, swiping her tears and wishing her heart felt differently. She was in love, but she needed out. She needed out more than anything in her life. She needed happiness and light and rainbows; the stuff Storm used to provide. "I needed away from you. I needed away from that town." Stormee whispered. "Was it worth it?" "No." Opal nodded with finality, tears dropping from her jaw and drying on her pillow. She wanted to curl into it, grasp its fluff and sleep for years. "You know, my dream always had you in it. My dream was captured based on feelings built by you. Your dream was about something exclusive of me," she cried. "And now you've found it." Stormee sobbed silently and nodded. "Yeah, I did. But I see you in-" "No buts. I need out. I can't breathe anymore." "Out?" "Of this." "You want to quit?" "My heart already has," Opal whispered. "I'm sorry." The pegasus wiped at her face to no avail, her eyes wouldn't stop leaking, and she was no longer the pubescent teenager who thought crying was uncool. Crying was a relief. "I guess I deserve this." "What do you mean?" "For treating you the way I did. I deserve this, to be on this side of it. Life can balance now, right?" "It's not about that." "Then Celestia, what's it about?" Stormee sobbed, swiping more. "I keep trying to figure out what it's about and there's nothing. There's nothing out there to tell us what to do, what's right for right now, what's right for the future, what could happen and what should be." "I know, darling. I know." "I'm so sorry." "I know you are. I am, too." "What do you have to be sorry for? You're still perfect. You're always perfect. I've never known someone so perfect," Stormee wept. "I should've made us talk. I should've gone back to you after the funeral. I should've understood that you were fifteen and heartbroken about Granny and scared. I should've, I just should've. We failed on talking across the board." "We're talking now. Maybe we can-" "I'm done." "Opal." "I'm done," she whispered. "You can't be done." "You once were. Now I am." "I came back," Storm cried. "And then you left before we were fixed. You left before you gave us a chance. You went back to war." "I…" "It's okay. Maybe we'll come back to each other yet again. But right now, it's over. It's been over, Storm. The only difference is that I finally have the courage to say it." The unicorn’s voice was dead. Final. "I can't live without you." Stormee sobbed. "You did for three years." It smashed into the pegasus like a steamroller. She had. And now she'd get to live without her forever. With that, Stormee rolled into Opal and cried the rest of her tears. Four Years Later The Canterlot Castle was a magnificent sight to behold, even to the ponies of Canterlot, who saw it every day from their high-rise windows. The effect was even grander when one was standing in front of it. She’d never quite get used to it. Her previous experience had been looking out on it from down below, from Ponyville. The north field back on the farm provided the best site for gazing at the suspended castle in the entire village, and she would sigh at it all day long as she bucked trees with Jasper, while her mind wandered away into the future. “It’s gorgeous.” “It is.” “We should get inside.” And they do. The guards at the entrance let them by without a second look, clearly having been told to look for them. Her stomach curls into itself painfully the closer they come to the castle. Did she make Captain? I thought Jasper said Skylar said that she did… She deserves it. Stormee Dash. The first female Captain of the Royal Guard. It's not a big deal. Four years was enough to get over her. And, knowing Stormee, she had had no problem securing other conquests of flesh. Her stomach tightens. They're in the castle now. She can't breathe. "Are you alright, love?" Of course he would notice. He was so attentive. She slams her eyes to his blue ones, slams a smile onto her features. Does he see it's fake? "I'm marrying you, Vance. How can I be anything but perfect?" She pressed closer to him, trying to find comfort in his beaming smile, and then later in his hot, suggestive kiss. She could do this. Vance McElroy was delicious and marrying her. She could definitely do this. Who needed Stormee Dash? She can’t do this. She glares at the paperwork. Turns to glare at the clock. Then the door. It had to happen, didn’t it? Fate, they say. It knows best. Stormee wanted to feed the fuckers who said those words a mouthful of her spear. What to do, what to do? There really was nothing she could do. They’d be here any second. She’d be here any second. Whatever. Stormee was never one to run away. …Except for those two times she ran away like a little bitch and joined the war. But we don’t talk about that. The knock comes. She freezes, and then slams her eyes onto a file report. Look busy. Be professional. “Come in.” she barks, like the Captain of the Royal Guard should. That’s right. She’s a hardened motherfu— The door opens. And there she is. Every time. It never fails. Stormee is almost rocked back by the sheer force of her beauty. It’s so familiar. Oh, so many memories. Opal asleep and curled up next to her after their first date, Opal reading to her over Hearts Warming, Opal gazing lovingly into her eyes. Opal making love to her. That last one. It destroys her in the most beautiful of ways. The tastes, the smells, every word, touch, sigh and pant and whimper and moan and… She wants to jump out of the fucking window. Into a cold lake. She wrenches her eyes open and glares over at the window and slams her hind legs together. This was going to be a complete and utter disaster. “Captain Dash.” Hold up. Who the fuck is that? Oh. Him. Naturally. The groom. Opal’s getting married. What was his name again? “Mr. McElroy.” She remembers at the last second, and then pats herself on the back for not growling the word. Professional. Opal McElroy? No. Just, no. “I just wanted to say, Captain,” McElroy comes forward, gratitude written all over his face. He grasps her hoof and shakes it. “Thank you for protecting our country.” Suck up. Her lips tighten into a thin smile. “The safety of my country and the ones I love is thanks enough, Mr. McElroy.” She says calmly. They are words that were instilled into her on her very first day of Basic. She means them wholeheartedly. “Now, let’s get down to business, shall we?” she says, her smile disappearing. She needs these two out of her office. Mostly Opal. She needs Opal out of her office. Mostly the temptation. “Yes,” McElroy says, seemingly all too happy to get down to business. He sits. Opal does too. “The Guard has been tasked with the security detail of the wedding.” Stormee starts, but pauses at their shocked looks. She raises a brow sharply. “Is that a problem?” “No, of course not, but…” Opal stammers. “The wedding is held in the Castle.” Stormee drones, all too happy to cut her off. “By the Princess. Not to mention Mr. McElroy’s politician family, and the presence of all six bearers of the Elements, as well as other esteemed guests. The Guard is very much needed.” There’s no reply. Then, “I think it’s a fantastic idea!” McElroy explodes. “Actually, Captain,” he starts, a bit hesitant. He leans forwards. “Could it be arranged that the Guard provide security in other places?” Stormee’s brow inclines, the exasperated look on Opal’s features not escaping her. Overprotective, I see. Maybe a bit overbearing too, hmm? “Myself and a few of my higher-ranking officers can provide security detail at any additional venues before the wedding, as well.” She smirks faintly. “We want you both alive so that your wedding can go off without a hitch.” Frankly, it’s tiresome. And she hates the fact that she cannot refuse. Horrible case of faux pas for the entire Royal Guard, were she to refuse. The Royal Guard always stepped up to the task asked of them. “That won’t be necessary, St—Captain.” Stormee ideally wonders what took the mare so long to jump in. The stumble on her name makes her hold back a grin, and a jealous whine. Her name from Opal’s lips is pure erotic… chocolate. All warm and sweet and… oh, McElroy’s talking again. “Please, love; I just want everything to be perfect.” McElroy starts, almost pleadingly. “Why would someone try to hurt us, Vance?” “It’s always possible. You’re beautiful and I’m not exactly unimportant.” Opal huffs, slumps back into her chair. McElroy turns a wide smile on Stormee. “Thank you for understanding, Captain.” “Of course, of course. I take my job seriously.” She hums, years of being around the Canterlot nobility refining her voice into smooth silk, covering up her previous thoughts of erotic chocolate. “Very well, then.” McElroy repeats, as he gets up. “I believe we’re done here, Captain?” It’s almost nauseating how perfect he is. “Quite, sir. Have a wonderful day.” She chirps back, tearing her eyes away from Opal. They both get up, and it’s done. She stares after them, watching Opal’s backside move enticingly with every step. She’s very sure Opal knows she’s staring, too. Professional. Right.
Lets Start at the Very Beginning... A Very Good Place to StartNine Years Ago, May Each time she closed her eyes, she imagined it differently; it's why she stopped closing her eyes. The yearning buried deep in the pit of her stomach went from burrowing with a small overnight bag to having set up camp, built a community, and held elections. Two years would do that. For two years, she did everything asked of her. For two years, she watched as her heart slowly left her own body and took up residence in the unicorn's. For two years, she rode the coaster that rocked her life so magnificently. She couldn't stop it. She couldn't help it. She couldn't fight it. It was a beautiful, unexpected crash of pure, meant-to-be passion. And still, each time she closed her eyes she imagined it differently. Everyone told her, "Your first love is the worst." Add the fact that her first love stole her heart at age of thirteen, held it for the next two years and then turned her back on a whim and Stormee figured her "worst" was worse than most. It was the absolute worst, the ultimate worst. The worst that everyone prays they don't experience. And here she was, experiencing it. Life experience, they say. Live it up. Embrace it. It makes you who you are. Ridiculous. Her life experience stole who she was. It ruined who she was. She didn't believe any of their one-off, feel-better one liners. She hated life experience if it meant she felt like this. She felt robbed; robbed of her heart, robbed of her adolescence, robbed of a healthy future love life, robbed of her sanity, robbed of emotion and happiness, of laughter, of peaceful days, of light kisses, and brilliant orange eyes. She found herself broke, completely, in every sense and definition of the word. Ripped apart from the inside out, devoid of worth, and empty, she was a shell of her former self. Moments of their past haunted her. She loathed the back of her eyelids. She loathed her dreams. She loathed photographs, notes, cards, yearbooks, and the box marked O in her closet. These things held history. They flaunted it right in front of her face and pretended like it didn't matter. It probably didn't, anymore. They met through school. Well, that was a lie, actually. They’d known each other far before school. The Apple family and the Dash family had always been close, and so they practically grew up together. Or rather… around each other. Yes, they were not that close in age—three years glaring between them—so they could never really form that bond. The bond that Jasper had with the twins. The bond that Paz had with Lightning. The bond that only comes when you truly grow up with a pony. That’s okay. It was totally fine that they didn’t have that bond. That bond would have gotten in the way—made things super awkward. Kind of like the love triangle/not-really-a-relationship-except-for-when-it-is/whateverthefucktheywerecallingitnow between the twins and Jasper. Poor Jasper, wedged between the two clear loves of his life, pussying out because he couldn’t choose one. Those three would end up hurting each other something terrible. Everypony knew it. The entire fucking town knew it and held their breath. But that was totally beside the point. The point was, they never really associated with each other much, before school. School was what brought them together. They weren’t really in the same general group of friends, but they ate lunch together because Jasper and the twins, and felt like two third wheels around those three’s never-ending…whateverthefuckitwas. So they started talking. Hesitant, absentminded small talk to drown out the other three occupants of the table. How was your second period? Good. We had a test. How did you do? Think I did pretty good. And then it grew and they became something like friends instead of associates. And then the day came. In retrospect, it shouldn’t have happened. None of it should have happened. It was wrong, and completely terrible. But it brought her something she could never fathom at that point. Something she still had trouble fathoming. Was it all real? Did love as intense and all-consuming as this exist outside of books? It was a mistake. She hated making them. But she was stupid and reckless and lived first, because thinking was for when you were old and had foals and whatever. So she strutted up to the table on that day nine and a half years ago, fearless and confident—maybe even overly confident. She approached the other mare like a fucking ninja, tapped her on the shoulder and then spun around the other way so that when the unicorn looked for the offender, she would not be there. She sat across from Opal in her usual seat. The Drama Three had not arrived yet—probably having a threesome quickie in the bathroom, or something like that. Opal was reading. Not, like, text-book-reading-because-she-forgot-to-do-her-homework reading, but reading-a-book-for-fun reading. Idly, she watched Opal read for a while. The cafeteria was half-full, abnormally calm, most ponies were outside enjoying the weather. “Are you busy tonight?” She didn’t know why she said the words. In truth, she never really planned anything. She winged it, as it were. And it just seemed like the right thing to say. Honestly, she wasn’t having the best day. An argument with Skylar was a supremely common thing in the Dash household. She and Skylar just didn’t get along. Their banter was the stuff that helped Stormee sleep at night. It told her everything was okay in the world. But they did not have very many legitimate fights. But today they had. What was it even over? She couldn’t remember for the life of her, and gave up when she grew bored of thinking in general and then she shut her brain off. Thinking wasn’t good for her. “Why do you ask?” Opal hummed into her book. “You wanna come over?” That got her attention. Opal looked up at her, cocked a brow in that way that Stormee was just beginning to find maybe attractive. “I have homework.” “Bring it.” “I have chores after school.” “Skip them. Topaz can handle the extra work.” “I don’t know, Storm.” She looked hesitant, sounded hesitant. And suddenly, it was all Stormee could think of. It was all she desired for some crazy reason. She just had to get the other mare to come with her. It was probably because she was competitive, and Opal was refusing. “Please? I’ll make it worth your while.” “O-okay.” She turned away after that, sidetracked by the Fabulous Three coming to the table. And that was that. Seven Years Ago, November She brought herself back to her present nothing and looked over to the empty lunch table in the corner, her forelegs wrapping tightly around her stomach in reflex as her eyes fell shut to will away the tears. She begged them to spare her this period. Spare her one hour, please. She needed that hour. The edge of the cliff felt closer each day. She so desperately needed that hour. With deep breaths and calming hoofs stroking over each elbow, she gathered herself and then forced her eyes back open. They immediately fell on none other than her most-beloved and most-dreaded vision: Opal. She stood across the cafeteria, sullen eyes on Stormee. Those foreign eyes bore into her as she froze. She felt the tears. She felt the edge. She felt the void inside echoing the deep rasps of her taut breathing. And yet she couldn't turn away. It would kill her not to, but she couldn't. She looked deeply, digging for anything that told her she still knew Opal. The eyes didn't look the same. The stance didn't seem the same. The near invisible, helpless and hopeless smile that graced the edge of her lips right then even seemed foreign. Her Opal was gone. Gone where, Stormee always wondered. How far away? Could she visit? Would she visit? And then the new Opal was gone, shuffling into the table beside their table. Stormee thought she saw those stranger eyes flicker to it for half a second, but it'd been weeks since she trusted anything she thought she saw. Everything swirled around her and she lost herself more and more on a daily basis. She'd proven herself wrong far too many publicly humiliating times in the past six months. So she stopped trying. She was almost sixteen for crying out loud. Because what the hell was it coming to? What the hell happened to them? Where was her Opal? How did it get to this? When would she stop crying, aching, and dying inside? What would it take? God, what would it take? The full cafeteria gave her no reply.
Give You This, Give You That, Blow a Kiss, Take it BackNine years Ago, May The excitement over finally growing a pair still rushed through Stormee as she practically pranced up the stairs to her bedroom with Opal in tow. The unicorn followed at a cautious creep behind her, having never been past the downstairs of the Dash household. And even that was restrained to the kitchen and living room during all the Apple-Dash dinner get-togethers. The door shut behind them and the pep in Stormee's step as she crossed the room was unmistakable. Opal fluttered to a stop near the door and let her eyes take in the pegasus and her humble abode. It was nothing like Opal pictured. Something about Stormee's temperament and general disposition made Opal think the room would be laced with graffiti art and those, those hate-speech posters or something. But the room was nothing like that. It was small. Tiny, even, with only a bed, a giant, looming bookshelf, and a desk. All three were constructed of gorgeous dark wood. Gray was the main color scheme of the room. In fact, it was the only color in the room. It was on the bedspread, the worn area rug, the walls, and the curtains. It made the room look even tinier than it already was and gave a certain feel to the place that Opal could not exactly place. Gloomy? Lonely? A shiver shot down her back, but she shrugged it off and focused on Stormee. The pegasus was sprawled on her immaculately-made bed, watching her with interest as Opal surveyed the bedroom. And that was another thing that struck Opal: the cleanliness and borderline obsessive order that everything was in. Not that there was really a lot of things in the bedroom, but every surface was freshly shined; not a trace of dust or dirt. "You can set up your homework on the desk." Stormee droned helpfully from her lazy slump on the bed. She had procured a book from somewhere in the few seconds of Opal's inattention, and was now flipping through it idly. Opal approached the desk, absentmindedly running her hoof over the polished surface. It was antique, if her limited but present knowledge of home decor served her correctly. Perfect condition, too. "They just don't build furniture well anymore." Absentmindedly, Opal nodded her consent, admiring the endless carvings in the wood. "The desk won't bite, Opal." She nodded again, feeling her face heat up at the tinge of amusement in the other mare's voice as she scooped her books and placed them on the desk. Here, a couple of photographs stood—the only ones in the entire bedroom. They were framed in lustrous metal that caught the light streaming through the window and reflected it. The first was of all seven members of the Dash family—the same one that hung in the Apple living room. The second was simply of a filly Stormee and her eldest brother, Lightning Dash, who was well into his teens. What was he, seven years her senior? Something like that. Yeah, Topaz was only a year younger than him. Opal sat in the rickety chair that was tucked under the desk, frowning at the way it swayed on it's thin, old legs and the rebellious strands of twine that poke her in the flank, and opened her Equestrian Literature textbook with a cold knot of dread in her stomach. Equestrian Literature. The spawn of Tartarus in class form, taught by Hades himself. Time passed, mostly filled with the sounds of birds chirping right outside Stormee's window and the turning of pages. Finally, Opal sat back in the increasingly wobbly chair with an almost inaudible sigh of pure vexation. "Problem?" Opal glared at the textbook in front of her with the burning fury of a thousand suns. "Equestrian Literature. It is the bane of my existence." "What's the question?" Opal huffed, sitting forward and looming over the textbook while reading aloud, "How does the character of Romeo Mountague, from William Neighkespear's classic tragedy, defy the overall gender stereotypes of today's—?" She cut off sharply, feeling Stormee suddenly hover over her shoulder, her wing flaps stirring the uncomfortably hot air of the room to settle onto Opal's back. "Have you even read the story?" Storm asked, bemused, and Opal's eyes fluttered closed at the teasing caress of hot breath on the side of her cheek. Why did it feel so...? "Y-yes. In class." She hadn't understood it. The use such large variety of poetic forms confused her. It was like Neighkespear couldn't make up his mind on how he wanted to write the damn thing, and, and just, ugh. "Well, Mountague is a total filly," Stormee mused, leaning on the desk casually and staring at the very thick book occupying it with disinterest. "Like, in the beginning, he's going on and on about this one mare that he's into. Then at the ball he falls head over hoofs for a mare who's name he doesn't even know. Not to mention, he takes poison to kill himself like a pussy instead of using a dagger like one would expect of a supposedly macho stallion." Stormee rolled her eyes, tsking. But Opal wasn't listening. Had stopped listening. Couldn't focus with the small space between them, frankly. Her body was, was, reacting in a strange way. She was sixteen and had never felt such feelings, such tingles from the simple presence of another body near hers and a breath on her skin. It was new, electrifying, and terrifying. It brushed over the curve of her ear and lit every nerve throughout her body like one glorious domino effect screaming, "Look what you were waiting for!" She never knew she was waiting for it. She never knew she was craving it. She never knew, not anything really, not until Stormee. But maybe it was just hormones? Surely it wasn't anything special. She was sixteen, after all, and lately everything seemed to just be... different. Stormee watched out of the corner of her eye as it all transpired on the unicorn's face, and the flashes of so many emotions from confusion to anxiousness passed themselves over her features. Finally Opal's eyes fluttered closed in something like frustration, and she released a sigh that felt monumental. She released it all. Stormee felt it. And somehow she knew that she needed to act. The urge was misplaced; they had just been discussing Neighkespear for Luna's sake! Homework! Homework was innocent and not at all... this. But the mood shifted between them so dramatically in that moment... surely she would be a fool to squander... Fuck it. Not waiting for Opal's eyes to flutter back open, she leaned in and pressed her lips to the mare's. It was light, fleeting, almost a question of 'is this what I'm supposed to do in this moment?' But Opal didn't push her away, so she guessed it was not totally unwelcomed. They froze like that, stock-still except for the earthquake pounding through them; neither could find a thought to direct something more. Then, movement registered. Still hesitant, still cautious, and Opal inhaled deeply through her nose, needing to steady the shocks pulsing through her as Stormee pushed a bit harder against her mouth, effectively taking her first kiss. Questions raced through Opal's mind faster than she could sort them. What was happening? Celestia, what was happening? The feeling of those still lips pressed against hers unleashed something in her, again. And she had no idea what it meant or what it was. Her shaking hoofs wanted to rise up, dig into the pegasus's mane, open her mouth and kiss her like she was bursting to, but they didn't know how. She was sixteen. She'd never felt lips on her own, much less the perfect pair under the perfect pretenses attached the perfect mare who she'd never looked at before. Celestia! She couldn't think of what to do next. She couldn't picture a book to reference. She couldn't conjure up a show to emulate. She couldn't breathe; remember her name, or much less how to act. So she sat and she let it happen to her. She let Stormee happen to her. And happen it did; the mare started pulling her lips over Opal's. She could hear the ragged breaths coming from her nose. She could feel Opal's hoofs twitching at their sides, wondering what to do and where to go and how to touch. Storm slowed her kisses to almost a crawl. Her own heart pounded in her ears and then she cracked her eyes open as she kissed that top lip, then the bottom, and then took a nip. She saw Opal's eyes fluttering behind their lids. Stormee put all of her harbored feelings behind each slow, pressing kiss, hoping it'd hit Opal over the head and pierce her through the heart. This is what I feel. But the mare just sat there, confused, shoulders shaking, chest heaving, and lips still. Stormee's eyes slid shut again and she moved her hoofs around each side of Opal's neck, pulling her closer, tighter, and almost inside her. "Opal," she breathed out between long, purposeful kisses and pulls to the mare's beautiful lips. The lips she'd wanted to kiss for six months, in a repressed part of her brain that would leave her waking every morning from a pleasant dream that she couldn't remember. Oh, she definitely remembered now. "Opal, kiss me," she begged, tilted her head to fully lock onto the mare and held it. She'd hold it until Opal felt it, whether through feelings or lack of oxygen, Storm didn't care. It pulsed heavily through the larger mare until the gates finally poured open and snapped her inabilities in half. A light bulb exploded inside, taking her thoughts from one slow realization after the next into a full blown light show, a celebration, and fireworks. Oh, the fireworks. So the sayings were true after all. Stormee was kissing her, that's what was happening, he brain snapped at her in elation, as if this fact pleased it greatly. And, wow, she was seriously kissing her. Hmph. She could do this. She could kiss. Opal Apple could do anything—even get the mare, apparently. Her narcissism ignited at that realization and shot new tingles further south than she'd ever felt. Opal gasped for air, ending Stormee's assault. She could definitely do this. And she would. She moaned into Storm and picked herself up off the haphazard chair before the poor thing broke under them, and walked Stormee into their sturdy friend, the wall. She knew he would come in handy the second she walked into that room. She just didn't know it would be like this. She moved into the kiss, tentatively parting her lips to meld with Stormee's. It caused a domino effect of eagerness in the blonde: gripping hoofs, shifting, and tightening cheeks into smiles around the mouth occupying hers. Oh yes, Opal learned how to kiss and quickly; she had no choice in the matter. She wanted to feel and taste all of the mare's lips and, and inside them. Her hair stood on end at the thought, but boy she wanted to feel that eagerness and want again. And each time their mouths parted, she almost took the leap, but settled for nibbling a lip instead. She nibbled and kissed like her life depended on it, maybe it did, just waiting for the moment her first kiss fears would fully die and she could do everything she was imagining in her head, just like the superstar she was. God, why was there no manual for this? Why had Opal not done research? Why did she not freaking know? She could've prepared. She could've been better, the best, for Stormee. Releasing Opal's neck to wrap her forelegs fully around her, Storm brought their bodies together and stood them on their hind legs for more contact. Her forelegs circled tighter and tighter and she couldn't believe her luck when Opal circled around her own waist in return, pulling her unbearably closer. When their bodies met each other, Opal never looked back. That feeling right there was all she needed. She wanted it and would take it. She pulled the mare tighter, parted those lips, and slid her tongue inside. Sounds started to pour out of Stormee's mouth as Opal felt around the sweet, wet warmth and the pegasus failed to stop them. She groaned as their tongues danced and embarrassment flooded her cheeks, but Opal only kissed her deeper, letting the noises spur her on and releasing her own muffled pants in return. Stormee couldn't believe this was happening. Opal was perfect, better than she always dreamed, and in every way. She clenched her hoofs in silky blond mane and her tail curled at the need pulsing through her. She kissed Opal impatiently, wanting to feel every bit of her right that second. Oh, Luna, were mares her age supposed to feel things like this? Surely, surely she could make an exception if they weren't, because this was Opal and Opal was, O-Opal was, was... Her whimpers grew louder and she found herself pinching her teary eyes tighter. She craved for a slight inkling of control or, or she'd never look back. She would tumble, giving everything to this mare in an instant. She couldn't go there, not yet. She could keep steady. She would. She had to. She reined herself in, grasped the control and held it. Held it for dear life. But then Opal sighed into her, releasing a hum of pure joy and heaven and like she'd just found home. And instead, Stormee unraveled around her. It was happening. It was all happening and nothing would stop it.
