Lovelines

Nine 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.