All I Need's A Love In The Dark
“Rainbow. Thank you for coming out. Please, sit.”
Rainbow Dash nodded and took the offered seat. “No problem,” she said and then tried to smile. She was sure he could see how it trembled as it raised her cheeks, and so she dispelled it with a clear of her throat that was unnecessary. “So, um, what’s up?”
She forced her ears not to fold, clenched her teeth, and berated herself. ‘What’s up’ was not something one said to their boss, no matter on what kind of friendly terms they were with them. She knew that much.
Yet he didn’t seem to care. Light blinked off of his spectacles as he leaned forward and braced himself on his desk. His face was expressive; concern, gentle but firm, colored his eyes and twisted his face.
“Your performance has been dropping,” he said, noted, in a low voice. Concern colored it, too.
Rainbow swallowed—she swallowed, she did not gulp—and said nothing in response because she doubted that he was done, and because there was no denying it or excusing it.
“Is something troubling you? Problems at home?” His voice imitated that of a school counselor, and so did his questions. She felt her hackles rise.
No, I have no problems at home, counselor. It’s not like my father is never home, and it’s not like my mother is a delusional basket case who lives in different time periods.
“No. Everything is fine,” she breathed out, equal parts resentment and distress searing her like acid. She met his eyes, put on the mask, and proved to him that she meant it.
And it worked. Of course it did.
“Alright,” he said. Unsure as his voice was, though, she was nearly certain he would not question her again. “If you need to talk, I’m here—” of course he was “—but in the meantime, pick up the performance, eh?”
His spectacles flashed again and behind them his eyes gleamed meaningfully and a brow rose with significance. She nodded crisply and smiled charmingly.
She rose, and he shook her hoof, and she walked out of the office.
And then, she let the mask drop. A scowl graced her face and she sighed out in lassitude. She ran a hoof over her face and then pushed it through her mane.
A part of her was relieved, of course, but a bigger part of her—
“Excuse me,” she muttered out, and the mare paused in her tracks with a smile that was ready to help. “What time is it?” she asked, and then barely listened to the answer as she studied the mare.
Something like restrained interest welled inside her, and then shame washed it away. But it was there, and maybe it was something to contemplate, and something to stay awake over at night.
“Home,” Rainbow called as she pushed open the door to Carousel Boutique and tromped inside, collapsing on Rarity’s chaise lounge with a sigh. Scent filled her nostrils: fabric and perfume.
“Welcome back, Dashie Dearest,” Rarity’s voice called back from the kitchen. “I was just making some tea, would you like any?”
Rainbow rolled her eyes behind their closed lids. “You know I don’t drink tea,” she called back and then scowled.
“One of these days I’ll get you to try it, and you’ll see it’s not so bad.”
“Yeah, sure,” Rainbow muttered as she rolled onto her side and pulled a pillow over her face.
“How was work? You’re home late.” Rarity entered the room, floating her teapot onto the nearby coffee table and sitting in her recliner. The steam of the Earl Grey tea tickled her chin as if to entice her and she breathed in the scent.
“Fine,” Rainbow said from beneath the pillow. “I got called up to Cloudsdale. Boss wanted to talk with me.”
Rainbow took a deep breath as she waited for Rarity to respond, but to her surprise she heard nothing. She pushed the pillow away from her face and turned to lay her cheek on the velvet plush of the chaise lounge to stare to where Rarity sat. Rarity was looking contemplatively at her, frown adorning her face, small and pondering. There was a crease to her brow and a distance to her eyes.
“Rarity?” Rainbow called out when Rarity had sat like that for longer than her nerves could stand.
Rarity jolted out of the stupor slowly, and, it seemed, even when she met Rainbow’s eyes, she was still only half there; the rest of her was still contemplative. “I missed you,” she said, a hushed note of sincerity and underlining wistfulness.
Rainbow smiled, but perhaps not for the reason she should have. “I missed you, too,” she said back, and then Rarity set her cup neatly to the side and stood. She crossed the room to the chaise lounge and before Rainbow could even voice her inquiries, Rarity kissed her.
It was a kiss, a proper one, perhaps even more than a proper one. It was simultaneously the kiss hello that one gave their significant other, and the kiss that was used to let one know of carnal desires and prompt the actions of cranial desires.
“Why don’t I go start us a bubble bath?” Rarity whispered when she pulled away, and her eyes were molten night skies with her desire.
Rainbow exhaled hard and then rolled her jaw. “Sure.”
Rarity moved away from her and Rainbow watched her saunter until she could watch her no more, and then she turned her head back to stare at the ceiling passively. In seconds, she heard the pipes in the walls duly hiss with the rushing of water and then she got up.
She moseyed up the stairs, in no real hurry to get there and have to wait while the tub filled. The stairs creaked under her in an unnecessarily suspenseful way and she rolled her eyes, and then frowned at how put off she was. She smiled, and then shrugged it all off, including the fact that the smile was hollow and hurt her cheeks. Perhaps it was weariness that did it, who knew?
She reached the landing and turned to go into their bedroom, joined to which was the bathroom.
The bathroom was a grand thing, the epitome of a ‘master bathroom’—completely tiled white, sparkling black granite countertops gleaming under bright lights, and blah blah blah. A white fuzzy rug, their white towels hanging on a towel rack underneath a window that was stupid and unneeded because who put windows in bathrooms?
Rarity was already in the tub, adjusting the water temperature to perfection. With a final tiny tap to move the handle to the left for more warmth she locked eyes with Rainbow. Steam was rising invitingly from the surface of the water, not hot enough to be seen, obviously, but hot enough to exist and be felt by those in the room. Eventually the mirrors, all three of them, would be foggy.
She stepped over to the tub, and Rarity’s eyes trailed her and seared into her. She put one leg over the edge and into the water, and then two, three, four, until she gingerly sat across the tub from Rarity, the cold metal of the tap between her wings.
They exchanged eyes of all kinds in the moments that followed, and then Rarity leaned forward and kissed her. It was a kiss that did not go from 0 to 60, but instead had its birth at 60 and went on to be even more heated. It was hungry, bordering on unpleasantly vicious, but maybe that was just her imagination.
Rarity bit her lip, sent it stinging, and then pulled back. She had drifted closer and their faces hovered centimeters apart, but perhaps that could be said of all things: even things that were miles apart could be measured in centimeters and therefore be centimeters apart.
Rarity was close enough to wrap her hooves around her, and that was what she did. She wasted no time in stroking Rainbows wings, too, once she was back there: it was as if she had reached behind Rainbow for the sole purpose of stroking her wings.
The wings responded, as wings did, but the pleasure was minimal. Rarity kissed her again, made love to her mouth, and it was almost sloppy if not for Rarity’s natural precision and grace. In any other time or situation she would perhaps feel fondness well up inside her because of that, but not now, and not in this situation.
Rarity pulled away and her rubbing strokes increased to include small circles at the bases. Rainbow groaned softly and then sighed out and dropped her head to cling onto the curve of Rarity’s neck and shoulder. In her intakes of breath she felt the presence of the steam rising from the water in her mouth.
And then Rarity gathered her and walked her forward the two steps that they could take so that Rarity was against the other side of the tub, back braced against the sweating wall.
She huddled as much as she could to that wall, and Rainbow tipped herself back to half lie on the bottom of the bathtub. And then Rarity pushed herself forward to lie on top of her, and Rainbow had the room to stretch herself out—she should have gotten in on Rarity’s side so that she could relax on the sloped side instead of bracing the back of her neck on one side of the tap and have it at her cheek. And yet, perhaps she shouldn’t have, because the cool metal felt ridiculously pleasant right now.
And then Rarity’s hoof made its way between her legs and she sighed. Rarity set a fast pace, as was apparently the norm for today, and stroked her with hard, narrow circles. Rainbow clenched herself in time, and then sighed again after a long while. Rarity kissed her urgently, and when she let her lips go she whispered, “Come for me, Rainbow.”
And Rainbow wasn’t even close. And they’d been at this for a while. And she was trying. And Rarity was looking at her expectantly. And Rarity was touching her, and whispering things into her ear with heat and urgency, and nibbling on it.
And so Rainbow came. It was a habit to gasp and then tighten her muscles until they trembled, until her entire body trembled, and to add little manual spasms every few seconds, jerking her body around and making water slosh. It was habit to growl out Rarity’s name and bite her shoulder for no reason except to keep up the act. It was habit, to ‘come’, if only for the reason that it was what was expected of her, but truly for the reason of getting it out of the way; satisfying Rarity and dodging another bullet—because if Rarity knew, and Rainbow sometimes suspected she did, then there would be no them. How could there be?
And when she had kept the charade up long enough, she relaxed her muscles and sighed, passing false tranquility over her features and holding her lids at half-mast. Oh, she was a pro at this, and it left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Shame overtook her, scorching, and then vinegary self-depreciation and frustration shot their daggers.
She cradled Rarity’s face and kissed her deeply, slowly, and in her mind she poured all her sorry into that kiss—but of course one’s apologies could not be tasted, and if they could Rainbow would naturally mask them. But since they could not be tasted then she could indulge in this one kiss, the one opportunity she had to apologize to Rarity.
She let the kiss run the route to heat itself; of course it would want to run that route, she was near Rarity and she was attracted to Rarity—oh, she was stupidly attracted to her.
Yet Rarity could not get her off. Did that make Rarity that one mare in Cloudsdale? Pretty face and curvy hips that swayed.
Shame bitch slapped her. She could almost feel the phantom tingle on her cheek.
No. Of course not. Never. This was Rarity!
And it was Rarity. Rainbow opened her eyes as energy shot through her, and met the ones of azure that stared steadily at her face with love and devotion.
She grabbed Rarity’s face and kissed her again—she had broken the previous one at some point that she had not noted. She renewed the heat of the kiss and started it at 70. Oh, how she kissed her. Rainbow Dash was the champion of kissing, and she lavished every trick in her book onto Rarity’s mouth with a desperation that had never graced her before. An animal awoke in her chest and growled to get out, but she hesitated and drew back. She didn’t want to hurt Rarity.
But when she drew back she didn’t waste a second; she could not waste a second because she really and truly needed this. It wasn’t arousal in which the need had its foundation, this need wasn’t that kind of desperate. This need was the need for air when you didn’t have it, the need for food when you were on the brink of starvation, and the need for water when you were about to die from thirst.
She would fall apart, victim to her shame and self-hate, if she did not have Rarity. If she did not remind herself that this was the reason she needed to keep her head, that Rarity was the reason, and that she had some self-worth and a purpose: to be ‘the one’ for her.
How can you be ‘the one’ when you’re not even turned on by her? Can’t even get off—not by your hoof, and certainly not by hers. Hiding your lack of arousal with hot bath water. Gonna do that for the rest of your life? What if you two get married?
She kissed Rarity’s neck, damn near buried her entire face into Rarity’s neck as she made love to it with her teeth and her tongue. And Rarity moaned her name, the only name she should ever moan like that for the rest of their lives, Rainbow decided. Rarity was salty like sweat and bitter like the perfume she wore heavy on the neck area. Rainbow licked it all off and cemented the taste into her soul.
Speed and desperation ruled when Rainbow reached up to touch the essence of Rarity. It was a different kind of speed than the one Rarity had given her; Rarity’s speed was efficient, and Rainbow’s was pure, sloppy, untamed and untimed speed.
She watched Rarity’s eyes as her hoof blurred between Rarity’s legs. She could she every fresh shock in Rarity’s eyes, those clouded night skies that widened, unfocused, closed on a throaty moan. Nopony else had given her this, of that Rainbow could be sure. Nopony had taken her where she could take her. Of all the things she’d been given, of all the places she’d traveled, of every soul that had touched her like this or like that or in any way in between, this was new.
And Rainbow hurt with the fact that this was all she could offer right now. But she would make it enough for tonight.
For tonight, as long as it lasted, she could and would be for Rarity what no one else had. And then, maybe, with work, she could be more. She could be everything in the literal, legally recognized way, and then she would truly be everything.
But for now she could feel every dark flash of pleasure explode underneath Rarity’s skin. She could hear Rarity’s shocked gasps, and swallow them, make them her own, and then give them back to her.
By now the air was ripe and sweet and thick with her and Rainbow tasted it like pure sugar on her tongue; no, sweeter than even that.
Rarity’s breathing was slow now, shallow, but she still moved with Rainbow and matched her stroke for stroke until she could no more.
Rainbow shivered when Rarity came apart above her with a cry that ended on her name. She’d never tire of that, she knew; had known, since the first time she’d touched Rarity like a lover.
When Rarity collapsed on top of her, there was triumph. There was triumph, and all the smugness that Rainbow could afford herself, to know that Rarity was utterly spent and immobilized on top of her, because of her.
Silence reigned. The water was lukewarm now against them, but the heat between their bodies needed it, so it was welcome. They held each other, cradled each other, with fondness, with desperation, with trust. Rarity panted against Rainbow’s cheek, and Rainbow panted against Rarity’s shoulder.
She was not thinking, simply being, for now, dimly observing where she was, who she was with, and what they were doing. Because if she thought about anything, it would lead her back to the edge, and she just knew that nothing could catch her, not even Rarity, if she visited it a second time in such a short while.
“Rainbow?”
She hummed in response to Rarity’s careful uttering of her name. Their eyes would have met, perhaps, and perhaps they should have, but they were both too exhausted to even lift their heads for that.
“Do you…” Rarity’s breath hitched, and she felt it. It was like a strong hiccup, it was like a small sob. “Do you fake it?”
It blindsided her. It hit her over the back of the head, shot her between the shoulders, sucker punched her, slit her throat from behind. And in all those cases, she died.
But perhaps…
“What do you mean?” she asked, and then winced at her tone, impressed as she was with it in the same moment. Her tone was passive, if contained no breaks or inflections that might be reasons for suspicion. She’d gotten good at this game.
This time Rarity met her eyes, and in those eyes Rainbow could see that yes, she meant that and yes, she’d known about it all along.
“You know exactly what I mean, Rainbow Dash.”
Hello, edge.
She swallowed her air, she swallowed all of it, and her mouth dried as the liquid left it and shot up to her tear ducts, even though those things didn’t work like that, physiologically.
She felt tears fall, and then a sob worked its way out. “Rarity…”
“Rainbow,” Rarity called, dismayed, her face, the one that had seconds before been blurry and relaxed with post coital bliss, scrunched into worry. She sat up quickly, water sloshing over the edge of the tub at the movement. “Oh, darling, come here.”
And it stabbed at Rainbow. Her eyes, her tone, her touch, all of them caring, seared her like nothing had before. Another sob escaped, and she tried to make herself move to get up like Rarity instructed, but there was no point to it anymore. She was paralyzed, rooted, with hatred and shame—and Rarity had known this entire time. This entire time! Rainbow had played it off as cool, been so proud of herself for hiding it and pulling a fast one, but she actually hadn’t. She’d made a fool of herself.
“Rainbow, come here,” Rarity instructed, voice becoming demanding in her panic. She was out of the tub now, and held one of the towels open for her.
She managed to stand and crawl over the edge without feeling it. “Rarity, I…” she croaked out distantly because she had to explain herself. She had to.
But Rarity was wrapping her in a towel, and shushing her gently. The towel was warm and it cradled her in a way that reminded her of when she was a foal and would jump out of the tub and straight into the towel her dad would present her with and then he’d lift her up and—
Rarity led her to their bedroom, and transferred her into their bed from the towel, and then climbed in with her to hold her.
She sobbed freely, in shame and other things: there were so many emotions here that they made her dizzy. She’d repressed them for a long time, and they were finally coming out. Emotions, she guessed, could never truly be suppressed forever.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, and Rarity shook her head, refusing her apology. And now she’d simply leave her.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She sputtered, spraying spittle. “Yes it is! Rarity, I can’t orgasm—that is a big deal!”
“It doesn’t matter, darling.”
She laughed bitterly, after many attempts to do it through her sobs and hiccups. “That’s what you say now.”
“Yes, because it doesn’t. I love you.”
And it was the first time she’d said those words to her. And Rainbow felt those words rip her in two.
“I can’t lose you,” she whispered. “Rarity, I can’t…” she buried her face into Rarity’s chest as a sob shook her.
“You won’t. Did you not hear me? I love you.”
But she was not listening now. The sound of rushing water filled her ears as thoughts and memories flew by her. “Everypony’s that’s ever said that to me has left,” she started. “Every single one of them. They couldn’t handle the stress.” She sniffed and scowled. “And I used to call them mine, and they used to call me theirs, and I was theirs and they were mine—until some cheated. And I couldn’t blame them for it; I didn’t even have the right to be jealous.”
“But I’m not them!” Rarity snapped, finally forcing Rainbow to look at her. She had not been, the entire time they were on the bed.
“But you’ll become them.” Truly, there was nothing Rarity could say or do in that argument that would put her on top.
And she saw this. She saw that her preparedness and resolve to argue about and for her love would do her no good. She saw that her love honestly mattered nothing to Rainbow. She saw her tired eyes, her bitter, self-depreciating scowl, her long face twisted into an emotion she could not recognize because it borrowed from so many. She saw that face ask her to give up.
And she knew, because she was not stupid, that Rainbow was too far gone. She wanted to scoff. ‘Too far gone’ was something ponies who were cynical or lazy said about others. But here was the mare she loved, and she truly was too far gone. Even if by some miracle Rarity won the argument and convinced Rainbow, their relationship would die out quickly because Rainbow would not be involved in it.
She wondered who it was that broke her so bad that she hated herself more than she loved anything else. It was many, of course, Rainbow had admitted to that. Many had left and hurt her, but she wondered when it was that she broke, and who was responsible for that one last push.
After a long silence, the one that afforded her the time to contemplate all of this, she bowed her head.
“But I love you,” she argued, her last argument, because they said that love conquered all.
And Rainbow shook her head.
Author's Note
That ending, man. It's the worst, and I can't fix it. #writingprobz
