She eyes the prize before her – beautiful, succulent, for her and her alone. She lowers her head down, stopping just shy or brushing her lips against the surface, and breathes deeply, savoring the aroma. She does not yet push forward, holding herself back, withstanding the temptation to just dive in and claim it, allowing the experience to linger. Such things are never to be rushed, but enjoyed slowly, delicately, each step building upon the last as it becomes something more than a mere action, but an experience.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, she leans back, away from the wonderful gem that still awaits her, away from the soft fur and tender flesh with which her lips had enjoyed only the barest contact. However, there is more to this prize than mere scents and touches, so much more hidden within. Carefully, she presses in with her magic, gradually parting it and spreading it open, a process simply too delicate for the rough touch of hooves. Rather like the prize itself, so soft and inviting, juices dripping as it’s further exposed, preparing it for her, awaiting her touch and what would be sure to follow.

“Rarity...”

The brush of magic, gentle and personal as it was, could not compare to the real goal, the true climax of this scene. It was not her magic that was meant to experience this, but her lips, her tongue, her body. This was not to be an experience of the mind, but of the senses, each devoted fully to that which she desires. Again, she leans towards the glistening prize, anticipating the first touch of the juices to her tongue, her lips to the flesh. The thought of it – the mere idea, the expectation of the experience – was nearly too much for her. It was so much to resist, now that she was so close. So hard to hold a steady pace and not simply attack it with all her desire!

Slowly her tongue reaches out, her eyes closing as she awaits the first taste, the opening notes in what should prove a symphony of sensations. She feels her heart beat as she nears her prize, her own breaths against the flesh carrying its scent back to her, enveloping her in its presence, causing it to become the whole of her experience. She lingers there, a moment, remaining in this position of half-met desire. And for that mere moment, there is nothing else. She sees nothing, smells and tastes nothing but what awaits her. But before too long, before the moment can pass or her wants – her needs – begin to wane, she takes that final step.

“Rarity.”

Words cannot describe the sensations as she finally brings the prize to her mouth. Her tongue explores the opening, taking in all the succulent flavor of the juices flowing from it. The tender flesh heavenly against it, a wonder unlike any other as her lips press down into it as well. Finally, the time has come for her release, for her to give in to her wants and claim her prize! There would be no more waiting, no more denial, no more lingering half-satisfied! Now was the time for the true pleasure of the act, the pinnacle of the experience, when she finally received that which she desires. In those first moments, it is difficult to say from what her pleasure truly stems – is it the control she exerts as she toys with her prize? Does she revel in the juices dripping down her, the mess a sign of her desires? Or could it truly be so simple, the taste alone, the sensation of it being what drives her?

However, the pleasure does not stop with her first touch, and there is time enough for her to seek the answer in the pleasure itself. It has only just begun, and can only grow ever greater from here! Now that there is nothing between them, nothing separating it from her touch, her caress, her love for it, she can immerse herself fully in the sensations! Her eyes remain closed, no need for sight when touch, taste, and scent were all she wants, all she needs to know for the experience to take her in completely. The sensations have become her world, and she knows nothing more than the sweet taste of the juices on her tongue, the flesh against her lips, and the scent in the air, surely by now soaking into her coat, marking her with the scent. But the thought of others smelling it on her, knowing of her pleasures, only added to-

“RARITY!”

******

The white unicorn jumped and learned back at the heat in Twilight’s voice. “Whatever is the matter, darling? I was only–”

“I know what you were doing. Congratulations. You win. I admit it. You can make anything sound sexy. And for the record, my eyes were shut because I was trying to ignore you.” Twilight groaned and dropped her chin to the table and stared at the half-eaten fruit and its untouched partner on her plate. “So much for breakfast.”

Rarity fluttered her eyes in her best innocent expression. “Is something the matter, Twilight?”

“Yes. Something is. I don’t think I can even finish this, now. Thanks for that.” Twilight pushed back from the table and dropped out of her chair, stalking out of the room. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back up to my room.”

“But you only just came down!” Rarity turned to watch her go, but the flash of light told her Twilight had taken the quick way up. She leaned back in her seat and called upstairs to her friend. “Why would you–?”

“BECAUSE REASONS! Now go distract Spike for a while and don’t ask why!” The slam of Twilight’s bedroom door punctuated the command.

Rarity blinked at the sudden reaction, then shrugged and turned back to the table, floating Twilight’s plate over to herself. After all, watching one’s diet didn’t count if the food wasn’t yours.

Author's Note

I'm shamelessly joining a meme. Also I seriously started to run out of things for Rarity to describe there towards the end. Probably shows.

And this might not merit Mature, but I decided to play safe with the tone it was taking.