Nights Of Love

Through A Glass Darkly

"Love is like a friendship caught on fire. In the beginning, a flame, very pretty, often hot and fierce, but still only light and flickering. As love grows older, our hearts mature and our love becomes as coals, deep-burning and unquenchable."
—Bruce Lee

~

With night looming on the horizon, the celebration continued throughout Ponyville. Page Turner watched as his daughter’s friends, family, and acquaintances—many of whom he had just met today—took the first reception with them, dancing, laughing, and sharing champagne as they headed towards the second. The parties had yet to end, even if the two brides had already turned in for their wedding night.

Turner found himself smiling, a proud grin on his muzzle. He had never imagined he would even meet the foal he suspected he had fathered all those years ago, much less attend her wedding. Everything that had transpired in these past few months aside, he considered himself to be a lucky stallion.

A very lucky stallion, as the presence of that mare’s mother reminded him.

“Something wrong, Page?”

Turner looked over to see Libra Scales standing beside him. Together, the two stood on the platform of the Ponyville Train Station. The last train to Appleloosa raced away from them, Citrus and Braeburn having left them behind.

While Turner knew he would be seeing them soon, he ached to see them leave early. However, he also knew exactly why they chose to depart early tonight, and could only grin further.

Still, Turner wouldn’t be returning back to the desert plains for a few more days. He, his daughter, and his daughter-in-law would be spending some quality time together… along with the mare standing beside him.

“Oh, nothin’, Libra,” Turner said. “Jus’... thinkin’.”

Libra, still in her dress, ran a forehoof through her mane. The sleek, billowing silk of the dress clung delicately to her figure, though it flattered her, its dark shades of blue complementing her light-orange irises perfectly. Whatever remaining thoughts that pierced through Turner’s thick skull were completely forgotten as he looked over at her.

“About what?”

“Er…” Turner broke his stare and glanced down at his hooves, the slightest tinge of pink spreading across his muzzle. “Jus’... Youze know, Citrus an’ Brae takin’ off so early.”

Libra snorted. “Oh, don’t you think on that too much, Page. I know exactly what they’re doing.”

Turner averted his eyes and cleared his throat. “Heh, well… Youze know how young couples are.” Fishing for the flask in the interior pocket of his tuxedo, he took a quick drink and stared at the sunset, letting liquid courage relax him.

Libra dismissed him with a forehoof. “Oh, I know. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s just going to take a little while for me to get used to it. Though, after everything that’s happened…”

Although her tone shifted a bit somber, Libra shook her head and added more cheerfully, “I can’t exactly say I didn’t expect it or don’t support it. Just that will take some time before I nudge them towards the altar.”

Wide-eyed, Turner spat out his whiskey.

While the stallion coughed, Libra raised an eyebrow. Laying a forehoof on his back, she asked, “Are you alright?”

“Bah… heh…” After wiping his muzzle clean, Turner caught his breath and tucked the flask away. “I’m fine. Braeburn, though? I think he might need a warnin’.”

Libra prodded his chest, rattling the flask in its pocket. “Don’t you dare, Page Turner.”

“Yes ma’am!” Turner chuckled while mock-saluting her.

Bringing a forehoof to her lips, Libra giggled, then shook her muzzle. She staggered slightly as she continued to laugh, becoming weak in her hooves.

With a wry grin, Turner draped a forehoof over her shoulders. “‘Ey, what’s so funny?”

“N-nothing,” Libra muttered, leaning into him as she poked at his chest. Sighing, she rested her muzzle underneath his chin. “Nothing at all…”

Perhaps due to the half-full flask of whiskey in his pocket, or maybe the slowly setting sun, Turner experienced a new rush of warmth on his muzzle. “Youze sure?”

Libra looked up at him and smirked. “So I was right.”

Turner blinked. “Right ‘bout what?”

“You’ve been drinking,” Libra said, a small smile on her lips.

“Oh…” Rubbing at his neck, Turner straightened his posture. “Well… Jus’ a lil’ bit. Heh. Youze know. Champagne at the reception, an’ then—”

Libra prodded at the bulge in his suit pocket. “And then some of your whiskey. Earlier, and just now. You’ve been drinking, Page. I can smell it on your breath.”

Ashamed, Turner continued to rub his neck while he pushed her forehoof away from his pocket. “Well, er, I’m… I’m tryin’ ta cut back. Afta Manehatten an’ everythin’... I know I should quit, but it’s a lot less than I used ta—er!”

A tug of his tie yanked him forward. Turner almost fell forward as Libra Scales pulled him down, meeting her muzzle with his own.

Bringing a forehoof to the side of his cheek, Libra lowered her eyelashes and said quietly, “I didn’t say that was a bad thing.”

Turner’s eyes widened. “Wh-what?”

As she released him, Libra looked around. The train station was completely deserted and closed, even its guards having departed for the brimming evening. Beyond the horizon, the sun began to gradually dip behind the northern mountains. A gentle but cool breeze spoke of a cold night to come. With nightfall approaching, she turned to the stallion again.

“It’s getting dark, Page.”

Confused, Turner simply nodded.

“And you’ve been drinking,” Libra said.

Turner bit his lip, nodding again.

“And you said you wanted to stay in town.”

“Yes…”

Libra narrowed her eyes. “With whom?”

“Er…” Taking a step back, Turner scrambled to think of an acceptable response.

While he had been staying with Libra for the past few months, things between them had been… mixed. Appearing to have forgiven him fully, she was reluctant to see him leave the cabin, even for a short while.

Though they exchanged kisses regularly, he sensed that she was holding back, restraining herself. While he detected a hint of intimacy in her touch, they had yet to share a bed together—not that he minded. Manehatten and all its hell had robbed him of energy for just about everything during his recovery, including libido.

His original intent was to spend the night at Sweet Apple Acres, hoping that there was a guest house or, at the very least, a cozy barn. When Applejack revealed that the guest house was pending construction by the more skilled of the newlyweds—who had not only been busy with the wedding, but taking care of his daughter, too—and that the Apples would be staying in town, he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

With no desire to trespass (along with wanting to respect the brides’ privacy), the barn and farmhouse were out of the question. Now that he had a decent amount of liquor in his blood, sleeping outside would not only be dangerous, but illegal. And he hadn’t exactly brought the bits for a hotel room, either.

So, when Page Turner finally looked back at Libra Scales, he could only shrug. “I… I’m not sure, Libra.”

Two raised eyebrows clashed with her narrowed eyes.

Turner sighed. “I was gonna stay wit’ Applejack an’ ‘em, but dey are stayin’ wit’ friends, an’ I wanna give Babs an’ Bloom some privacy.”

Libra’s expression softened, though her brow remained furrowed.

“I could sleep in the barn, but since Applejack didn’t give me dat option, I think dat wouldn’t be very kind o’ me.”

A small smile replaced her furrowed brow.

“So…” Turner sighed again, shaking his head. “I dunno. Didn’t bring the bits fo’ a hotel, an’ Celestia knows it ain’t a good idea ta sleep outside when I’ve been… havin’ a few drinks, even iffa it’s nice outside.”

“I see.” Libra met his gaze, then stepped towards him. “So… What you’re saying is that you’re not sure where you’re going to stay tonight?”

Turner shook his head, that same warmth washing over him as she approached. “Do youze?”

Libra rested a forehoof against his chest, looking up at him. “No, I was actually planning on staying with you, Page.”

Stayin’ wit’ me…?

Mortified, the slight pink on Turner’s muzzle reddened. “Oh… Sorry, Libra, I, uh…” He pulled out the exterior pockets of his tux, devoid of all but cloth. “I only took enough bits wit’ me fo’ a train ticket an’ maybe a meal. I thought I could jus’ stay at Sweet Apple Acres an’—”

“Then why didn’t you object when Applejack said she and the others were staying in town tonight with the Cakes?”

Turner shuffled his hooves. “I didn’t want ta impose.” Not on the day o’ ma daughta’s weddin’, most certainly not.

To this, Libra Scales said nothing, only studied him. Turner, far too old to be a nervous colt, felt his heart skip a beat in his chest as she regarded him, still touching him, still looking absolutely beautiful beyond words in the fading light…

“Alright.” Libra removed her forehoof from his chest. “Follow me.”

This time, Turner was the one to raise an eyebrow. “What are you—”

“Do you want somewhere to sleep tonight, Page?” she asked sternly.

Swallowing hard, he nodded.

“Then follow me.”

With that, took a few steps towards town center. When he didn’t immediately follow, she glanced over her shoulder and scowled. “Well?”

“Er…” Tearing his eyes away from her swishing tail, Turner muttered, “S-sorry, Libra. I’m comin’.”

Slowly but surely, he put one hoof in front of the other, following after her through the streets of Ponyville. The mare remained silent during their journey, though she occasionally waved and greeted some of the passer-by.

Turner greeted those he recognized, many of them shooting approving nods or grins in his direction. Looking down at his tuxedo—the finest piece of clothing he would ever own—he shrugged it off, assuming that the others were admiring his outfit. Dat mare Rarity did an amazin’ job… Makin’ dis tramp look like a high-class stallion. Heh, heh.

Turner zipped his lips as Libra Scales led him through the streets, though he remained thoroughly confused. Maybe she’s got a friend o’ two she didn’t tell me ‘bout who lives heeya? Somepony wit’ a guest room o’ two? O’ maybe—

“We’re here, Page.”

Stopping in his tracks, Turner shook out of his thoughts and followed her gaze. Before them was a three-story inn. The Horseshoe was painted in thick lettering across its facade. The inn appeared to be moderately upscale, painted with vibrant colors.

Through the front double-glass doors, Turner could see various fine sculptures and indoor plants decorating the lobby. This was most definitely no two-bit flea hotel—nothing like those he had resorted to in his darkest times, when he could hear screaming through the thin walls and count the mold spores on the ceiling.

Suddenly, his tongue became rather thick in his mouth. “Umm…”

“What’s wrong?” Libra asked, far too closely to him.

Turner glanced down to find her standing right beside him, her muzzle barely reaching his chest. “Uhh…” Looking back up to The Horseshoe, he paused, struggling to answer. What’s wrong?! What’s wrong is… I’m not sure youze know what I—

“Page? Are you okay?” Libra looped a forehoof around his neck. “Something wrong with this hotel?”

“N-no, nothin’s wrong wit’ it,” he managed at last, catching his nerves in his teeth. Forcing a smile, he looked back down at her. “Everythin’s fine. I… I jus’ am a lil’ surprised, dat’s all.”

“Surprised? Why?”

“Well… I told youze I don’t have the bits fo’ dis,” he admitted sheepishly, regretting his short-sighted nature. Should’ve had a backup plan, Turner… Now she’s shellin’ out hard-earned bits on youze ungrateful—

Libra chuckled. “Oh, I know. It’s on me, Page.”

Turner blinked. “C-come ‘gain?”

Stepping in front of him, Libra nudged towards the hotel. “Come on, let’s go and get ourselves a room. You can pay me back later.”

Get ourselves a room?!

Chuckling nervously, Turner mumbled, “L-l-later… Gotcha…”

With a grin spreading across her muzzle, Libra Scales turned around and started up the steps. Turner followed, making his steps slow, careful, deliberate. Her tail was flicking merrily behind her again. The stallion couldn’t help but stare at it, its swishing strands as hypnotic as a psychologist’s pocket watch before his eyes.

Before he could even process what was happening, Turner slipped inside The Horseshoe after Libra. They checked in at the reception desk, where the receptionist took their names and Libra’s fifty bits, before offering them the room key.

Room key.

“Finally. Let’s head up, Page,” Libra said with a grin, holding the key tightly in her forehoof. After thanking the receptionist, she started towards the stairs to the third level.

The warmth returned to his muzzle with a vengeance. Turner gave her a head start, waiting until she was several steps ahead of him before he followed. As he did so, the receptionist giggled to herself. Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder.

The receptionist winked at him. “Anniversary night?”

Turner fidgeted with the buttons of his tuxedo. “Er, no… Ma—our daughta got married today.”

The receptionist clasped her forehooves together. “Oh, congratulations!”

“Th-thank youze.”

She winked again. “Better hurry up, or your daughter will be the only one getting lucky tonight, stud.”

“Heh—um—well—er” Turner stammered in reply, feeling his muzzle catch fire. Lucky? Stud?! Horseapples, I ain’t no mare-chasa no mo’! What the hay is dis lil’—

“Page, are you coming?”

Looking up, he called her, “Y-yes, Libra! Be right there!”

While he began following Libra up the stairs, Turner caught one last glance of the receptionist. She was smirking.

~

Holding the door open, Libra looked around their hotel room. “Not exactly as classy as I hoped, but not too bad, either,” she observed, scrunching her snout at the questionable wallpaper choices and the still-life paintings hanging against them.

Turner entered beside her and whistled low. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

Libra closed the door behind them and locked it, strike and door-chain both. She left the key on the small table beside the door, then walked over to the window. Three stories above Ponyville, she saw the streets below them beginning to empty.

In the night sky, Luna raised her parish lantern high, the harvest moon gleaming as it traversed its course across the atmosphere. Scores of stars peeked past their dark blanket, further illuminating the night. The Princess had kept her promise of a beautiful night in full.

Libra opened the window, leaving it slightly ajar. She stood there for a few moments in silence, letting the night breeze caress her face and mane.

Turner unbuttoned the jacket of his tuxedo and reached into its interior pocket, then set the half-full flask of whiskey beside the key on the table. After checking his other pockets and finding them empty, the stallion took in the room again.

Next to the small table was a lone chair. A writing desk sat against the adjacent wall, along with another chair. Against the wall to his right was the bed, full-sized and neatly made with two fluffy pillows. Next to where Libra stood was a nightstand, a single lamp and a small bouquet of flowers on top of it.

Not only had she booked a single room, she had booked one with a single bed.

It momentarily became rather difficult to breathe.

Libra Scales turned away from the window, moonlight casting a silver shadow over her features. Her freckles, her eyes, her mane all glowed in the darkening room as she looked over and smiled at him, her molars perfect and pristine. The dress accentuated her features even more perfectly in this light and this side of her.

She’s beautiful… Jus’ as beautiful as she always was…

“Page?”

“Uh!” Horseapples!

Avoiding her eyes, Turner rambled, “Um, I was thinkin’, um, uh, iffa youze give me one o’ dem pillows, I can use sleep on the floor, use ma jacket as a blanket, nice an’ comfy dat way, youze know, heh…” All too aware of how stupid he sounded, he was still unable able to stop himself. “‘Cuz, heh, youze know what dey say, mares first, er, I mean, youze can have the bed, an’—”

“Page Turner,” Libra said calmly, “please come over here.”

Nodding, Turner shut his muzzle and walked over. When he reached her side, she turned around and pointed to the zipper on the back of her dress.

Turner bit his lip. “Er… Are… Um…”

“Can you give me a hoof, please?”

“S-sure.”

“Thank you,” Libra said, smiling softly.

Nodding again, Turner looked over to the zipper. Such a simple task should not have phased him in the slightest. During one of his gigs aboard a cruise ship, he often assisted some of the showmares with their elaborate outfits. The stallion was actually quite accustomed to formalwear, able to wrangle even the tiniest zipper on the first few tries.

Nonetheless, he struggled a bit out of nervousness with Libra’s, taking his time as he pulled the zipper down. She watched him over her shoulder as he worked, saying nothing, only smiling that same smile at him. Once he finished, she held out her forehooves, motioning for him to help her pull out of the dress’s sleeves.

Turner complied again, mentally berating himself all the while. Jus’ hurry up an’ get it done! Geez! Youze is makin’ dis far mo’ awkward then it needs ta be.

… Then ‘gain, I ain’t the one who brought her ta dis hotel an’ booked a single-bed room…

“Thank you, Page,” Libra said once her forehooves were free. She finished undressing, then folded the dress back up and sat it on the writing desk.

“Youze welcome,” Turner said, trying to hide his blush. She was far more beautiful without the dress than with it.

“I suppose you would like some help getting out of your tux, then?” Libra asked, lowering her tail as she turned back around.

Taken aback, Turner stuttered, “B-b-beg p-pardon?”

“It’s getting late, Page.”

“I-I know.”

“And you have been drinking.”

“Y-yes...”

Libra approached him slowly, cautiously, as if the space between them was littered with needles or nails, or perhaps something sharper. “We should probably be going to bed soon, don’t you think?”

We? “I suppose so,” he said quietly, then took a step to meet her.

When Libra reached him, the first thing she did was loosen his long, red tie, pulling out the Windsor knot. Next, she moved to the silver buttons of his tuxedo jacket. Her forehooves worked steadily, though with a tangible urgency. Silent and focused, she moved from one button the next, little beads of sweat forming on her forehead while she worked.

Turner chose not to break the heavy silence between them, choosing instead to remain still. He did not object when she worked his forehooves out of his jacket sleeves, nor when they tapped at the buttons on the cuffs. Complying with each and every silent request of hers, the stallion accelerated the process of his own undressing.

Soon, everything but his white, long-sleeved undershirt had joined the mare’s dress on the desk. Thirteen buttons to go.

Libra Scales returned from the dress to him and fumbled at his undershirt’s buttons, her forehooves shaking. Concerned, Turner looked down his snout and met her gaze. She mumbled something inaudible in response.

“Libra? Youze alright?”

Libra struggled with one of the buttons. “J-just give me a minute, Page,” she muttered. Her voice was shaking, too.

Anxiety rising in his chest, Turner nodded and exhaled slowly. Jus’ get dis ova wit’, an’ quick… Lie down an’ wait until tomorrowa… It’s too damn hot an’ cramped in heeya…

By some miracle, Libra managed to break free from the button that frustrated her so. She slowly moved to the next one, then the next. Less than a minute later, his undershirt was open, his fur chilled by the night breeze blowing across his coat.

“Th-there… That’s all of them,” Libra said, almost in a whisper. She avoided his eyes, a slight tinge of pink dotting her cheeks.

“Oh. Th-thank youze,” Turner said. “Couldn’t have got ‘em maself. Heh.”

Silence.

Turner looked down to see his forehooves still in his undershirt sleeves. “Um, Libra, do youze think youze could, uh…”

Libra was staring at her hooves.

Turner bit his lip. “Um… Iffa… Iffa dat’s okay…”

Libra looked back up and took a step forward.

Still biting his lip, he added, “Iffa not, I can get ‘em out maself. Jus’ takes me a bit. Heh, heh, you—”

Libra Scales laid her forehooves against his chest, pressed right above his heart, leaned up, and kissed him.

“—Mmf!”

Wide-eyed, his slight blush blooming scarlet, Page Turner staggered, taking a step back. Libra Scales responded by pressing harder, leaning into his chest and closing her eyes as her tongue knocked at the entrance of his mouth.

“Nnng…” Thoughtless, breathless, Page reached for Libra’s tongue with his own, accepting it and pulling her with him. His forehooves, their sleeves forgotten, curled around her waist, pulling her closer as she stood up on her hindhooves to reach him muzzle-to-muzzle.

With strong, measured, steps, she guided him to the wall, pushing him firmly against it. Grabbing at his mane with one forehoof, the mare pushed herself against the stallion and deepened their kiss, suckling on his tongue, running her own across his teeth.

As Page held her, he felt Libra tremble, felt her own heart thunder and jump in time with his. She clutched tightly at his mane, tugging at his roots, while lying flush against him. When her hips bucked against his twitching, awakening stallionhood, he finally opened his eyes.

Panting as she pulled away, she lowered her eyelids and looked up pleadingly into his copper irises, her own shining topaz crashing into his. “Pa—Page…”

Struggling for his own breath, he managed, “L-Libra…”

Her forehooves found his heart again, tugging at the thick tufts of fur protecting it. “I—I’m sorry. I… I just—”

“Sorry? Why are youze sorry?”

“I…” Sighing, she looked away from him, ashamed. “I… I know that things aren’t—that things will never be the same between us, but—”

He lifted her chin with a forehoof, forcing her to face him. “What—what are youze talkin’ ‘bout?”

Although she pushed his forehoof away, she didn’t flinch from his gaze this time. “Us, Page.”

“What ‘bout us?”

Libra sighed, her forehooves starting to shake again. “I… I know it’s been twenty years, and… and it seems so much has happened since then, especially in the past few months, but…”

Libra Scales, the mare whose cutiemark represented reason and rationality, trailed off, chewing furiously on her lip as she stared at the floor. Page Turner simply held her and waited, catching his breath, catching his rapidly beating heart as it threatened to end this conversation far too early.

It was irrational what she was about to say, and she knew it. But yet, she had to say it. Had to.

“Page…”

She stroked his mane as she leaned up against him, doing her best to meet his eye level. A soft but genuine smile spread across her blushing cheeks.

“Page, I… I know we didn’t know each other very well back then, and we don’t really now, either, but… I’ve enjoyed your company these past few months, and… It really has been wonderful having you in my life again…”

Page gently rubbed her back and smiled. “It… it’s been wonderful bein’ back in youze life, too. An’... havin’ youze in mine.”

Libra sniffled. It was only then that Page noticed the tears shining in her eyes.

At his frown, she continued, “N-no, I mean it. I am really glad that I found you… Or, rather, that Babs found you…

“And I guess… I just… After everything today, seeing my daughter get married to somepony she loves, and me being alone for all these years…”

The forehooves against his chest trembled. Page tightened his grip on her waist, holding her close and nuzzling her cheek. “Libra, it’s okay.”

“No… it’s not okay, Page.” Suppressing further tears, Libra took a deep breath before meeting his gaze once more. “I’ve been so alone for so long. I had to keep everything together… Keep everything together for Babs, and Citrus, and Brae, and the whole family, and…

“It’s been hard. It’s been bucking hard, Page.”

Unable to do anything but agree, he simply nodded. The thought of what his now-deceased excuse for a brother had done to Libra, his daughter, and his daughter’s sister—along with all of their family—made his blood boil. The faintest flicker of a snarl flashed across his muzzle, though it was immediately replaced by the small smile he offered up to her.

Libra took another breath, her whole body shaking against his. “It’s been so damn hard, and how I’ve managed to keep it together, I don’t even know.” She sighed again. “But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore, since everything is over and done with.”

“Yes, dat’s true…”

“But…” Her small smile returning, Libra stroked his mane tenderly, letting her forehoof trail down to his cheek. “Deep down, I am still lonely… Very, very, lonely… And having you around, even just the way that you have been, has been a blessing.”

Page couldn’t help let a blush follow his grin.

“But, still…” Shaking her head, Libra chuckled. “Still, in spite of everything, in spite of twenty years… When I look at you, Page…

“I know that, in spite of everything, there’s the stallion I fell in love with all those years ago. There’s the father of my Babs Seed.”

Libra was leaning closer to him, ever closer, every inch of her pressing against him. His breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped another beat.

Between them, he began to twitch and stir again between his hindhooves when she pressed that part of herself, slick and inviting, against him.

Page Turner blinked, then shut his eyes. When he opened them, Libra Scales was still lying against him, holding him, stroking his cheek, leaning ever closer.

Her words were melodious in his ears, her scent more intoxicating than any liquor. He tightened his grip around her waist, knowing what was coming, knowing it and wanting it and needing it so very, very much—

“And I find myself falling in love with that stallion again.”

Her breath was sweet on his muzzle, sweet and warm and welcome. He longed to feel the sensation of her lips against his, the touch of tongue against his. He yearned to unite with her, to be with her again, to join her and tell her of his most secret heart—

“Page Turner, I loved you then…”

He prayed silently to the Most High that he would be given a sign, a sign that this was truly real, that she was really saying this, and really going to say this—

“And I still love you now.”

When he finished his prayer, he opened his eyes, and found his mare in white illuminated in the moonlight as she laid against him. Above her mane, her halo shone even brighter, and he knew that the time had come.

“I love you, Page Turner,” Libra Scales whispered, trembling along with her words.

He moved one of his forehooves to cover both of hers.

“I love youze too, Libra Scales,” Page Turner whispered back, a tear of his own dotting his vision.

There was only a millisecond of hesitation, in which her eyes met his and found no falsehood, before they met again.

Libra leaned up and mashed her lips against his, pushing herself firmly against his chest. Page squeezed her waist and pulled her up, kissing back, just as hard. Her forehooves found the sleeves of his undershirt and moved quickly, pulling them free.

Once his undershirt fell to the floor, Libra turned, lifted her tail, and brushed it under his nose, smirking. Page gasped and blushed, almost falling forward, so powerful and tempting was her scent.

Libra winked at Page from over her shoulder, swishing her tail.

Needing no further prompting, instruction, direction, or suggestion, Page reached forward and wrapped his forehooves around her waist, lifting her up. Holding her tightly, he made his way towards their bed.

Libra straddled him, clinging to his waist and chest while she furthered their kiss, wrestling her tongue against his own. Her heat and his length intensified all the while, little encouragement necessary.

Once Page reached the bed, he laid Libra on her back, then climbed into bed beside her. His bones groaned and his joints protested, but he ignored them, heeding instead the demands of his heart.

Far from a young stallion, Page Turner long tired of mares who played games, mares who spoke from both sides of their muzzles, mares who teased and taunted but desired nothing. Libra Scales, far from a young mare herself, never engaged in that sort of nonsense with him—not then, not ever.

As he crawled on top of her, lying belly-to-belly, chest-to-chest with her as much as their differences would allow, she only further communicated her desire, sucking hard and fast on the tip of his tongue. While his forehooves found her sides and caressed them gently, her own flowed down his chest to his belly.

Between his hindhooves, Page’s black-and-pink stallionhood, all eight inches of it, broke free of its sheath, sliding between them and coming to rest against his stomach. Libra let out a little gasp when his warm member brushed against her fur, but otherwise continued the kiss, keeping her tongue and lips locked with his.

Closing his eyes, Page traced the contours of his mare, feeling her curves, her shoulders, waist, hips, and flanks. Time had only served to make her ever more beautiful. She was as lovely as she had been twenty years ago, albeit more sturdy. Years in the Appleloosian orchards had toned and thickened her muscles, not that he minded one bit.

While Page memorized the curvature of the mare beneath his touch, blindly stroking her fur, Libra, her own eyes closed, trailed her forehooves past his firm stomach towards his stallionhood. The stallion bucked his hips instinctively when her fetlocks softly brushed against the head. Grinning in their kiss, she moved her forehooves to the sides of his member, stroking teasingly slow and tender.

“Haah… Nnng…” Page opened her eyes and smiled down at her, breaking their kiss. “G-goin’ dat route already, eh?”

“Yes,” Libra answered, her tone slow and seductive as she continued to stroke his hardening flesh with her forehooves, “and it seems that you like it just as much as you did before.”

Page grunted in pleasure, closing his eyes. “Youze always did know how ta touch a stallion…”

Licking the side of his neck with a flattened tongue, Libra continued to stroke him, focusing primarily on the flat but throbbing head. “And you always knew how to touch a mare. How much longer before you take me?” she murmured, smirking.

“Mmm… Haah-aah… Not nice ta tease, Libra…”

“Says the stallion who stared at my flanks the whole way here,” Libra whispered back, nipping gingerly at his sensitive throat. Page groaned and squeezed her tight, almost enough to knock a breath out of her. She responded by replacing her gentle teeth with rough ones, leaving a deep impression on his flesh.

Page growled and threw his head back, grinding his stallionhood against her forehooves. Warm, thick pleasure throbbed through him, beginning at his member and spreading through his veins. If he wanted to last, he wouldn’t be able to handle her touch for much longer. Like his mare, he had been far too lonely for far too many years. Her forehooves alone were enough to make him writhe and thrash in ecstasy.

Raising his hips, Page stood up on his hooves, then stepped backwards. Resting only his forehooves on the mattress, he gently pulled her down so that her hindhooves hung lazily off the bed.

Libra raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

“Youze’ll see,” Page said with a wide smirk, wiggling his eyebrows.

Remembering back to when she had been in this same position with him, Libra’s blush deepened to crimson. Nodding, she laid her head on a pillow and spread her hindhooves, allowing him easier access.

Kissing from her neck down to her stomach, Page took his time, the mouth-watering scent of her marehood pressing him on. His stallionhood twitched at the mere smell of her. It had been far too long since he had been so close to this smell, thick and sweet and tantalizing.

Thankfully, the stallion was experienced enough to distinguish a mare’s scent when in heat from a normal arousal. As such, there was no need for questions, hesitation, or contraceptives; Libra was just aroused, and just for him, warm and wet and ready.

When he reached her clitoris, swollen and wanting, Page couldn’t help but smile. He had thought back to that night twenty years ago for his own private purposes many a time. Tonight, he had the chance to not only make another memory, but to make Libra his. He would not let himself slip through her hooves this time.

With only a grin and a wink, Page lowered his muzzle, then gave a slow, long lick between her lower lips.

“Mmmph, Page...”

Wrapping her hindhooves around his neck, Libra yanked him closer, eliciting a gasp from the stallion. She shuddered in delight as he flattened his tongue and used as much as he could to tease her, stroking and tickling her labia. The pressure of his forehooves squeezing around her flanks for support, coupled with a series of delicate kisses close to her clitoris made her buck, grinding her marehood against his mouth.

Bringing a forehoof to her muzzle and biting down, Libra silenced her continued moans, floating away into pleasure with each teasing lick. Feeling her own nectar dripping down her inner flanks, Libra knew it was only a matter of time before he would push her to climax. She continued to buck in time with his kisses and strokes, lost to her rapture.

When he pulled her hood back with his tongue and flicked her pearl, Libra Scales arched her back and cried out against her forehoof, muffling her ecstasy. Page grinned and flicked again, then pulled her clitoris into his mouth, suckling at it tenderly.

“MMPH!” Baring down on her forehoof, Libra bucked and shivered, grinding madly against his muzzle. The furnace between her flanks roared, tingling pleasure spreading through her. Staying calm, Page continued to suck and nibble at her clit, holding her hips down with his strong forehooves.

Everything between them shattered into pieces in this moment. With her stallion pleasuring her in one of the most intimate ways possible, taking the most sacred part of her into his mouth and caressing it so lovingly, there was no more fear, or anger, or grudges. There was still regret, but only for their lost time.

Just as she began humping and thrashing against his torturous muzzle, nearing the edge of the edge, sweat pouring down her mane and forehead and neck, Page Turner pulled away from Libra Scales and wiped his mouth clean.

“Haaah! Aaah! Nnnng! What!” Glaring at him, she demanded, “What do you think you’re—”

“Tastes jus’ as wonderful, ma dear,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss her.

Libra groaned and accepted his embrace, eagerly mixing the flavor of his tongue with her ownas they entwined. Her hips continued to buck furiously, so close to that damn edge, yet with nothing to send her tumbling.

Pulling away from the kiss, Libra snorted hotly and furrowed her brow. “You! You left—”

“I know,” Page replied with a cheeky grin. “I know I did.”

“You… You…!”

“What was dat youze always said? ‘Good wit’ dat thick tongue o’ youze,’ wasn’t it?”

Libra grabbed the other pillow and chucked it at his head.

Page laughed as it bounced off his cheek, then shook his head. “Now now, don’t youze worry, beautiful,” he assured as he laid down beside her, “I won’t leave youze hangin’.

“But… I want ta come togetha.”

Blushing, Libra leaned back against his chest as he began to position himself behind, wrapping his forehooves around her waist. Her forehooves curled back around his neck, holding him close. “Aren’t you the charmer…”

“Heh, I try…” Page moved his hips down, lining them up with hers. His stallionhood rubbed between her flanks, prompting her to lift her tail. Angling himself so that he was aimed directly at her entrance, he pulled back, waiting for the right moment. “I try, but…

“Truth is, it’s mo’ ‘cuz I love youze.”

Libra stroked his cheek and tilted her head to look at him, a gentle smile accompanying her gorgeous eyes and coy blush. “I love you too.”

Lying in the same position in which they had made love over twenty years beforehoof, Page Turner and Libra Scales paused before beginning, sharing one last, deep kiss.

Then, when he took her nape in his jaws, and she nodded and gasped, he finally entered her.

Whatever remained between them in his mind—whatever separated then and now, and prevented him from letting himself love her fully—was erased in their entwining, body and soul, their twin gasps and groans accompanying their union.

Page tugged at her neck and bit, sending primal pleasure coursing through her nerves, blood-rushing pain mixing with the intense pleasure of being penetrated by her stallion. Libra winced when his head pushed through her walls—and not due to his teeth.

Releasing her nape, Page asked, “Are youze alright?”

Breathing deep, Libra said with a slight groan, “Been… Been a while. Start slow, okay?”

The stallion nodded, rubbing his mare’s stomach apologetically. He slowed his first thrust, entering carefully, one inch at a time. Using the rhythms of her breathing to guide him, Page took as much time as Libra needed, focusing completely on her comfort at the moment.

Even so, her marehood welcomed him inside her, embracing him with tight squeezes and an overwhelming heat. His stallionhood began to twitch inside her against his will. Focusing his thoughts elsewhere, he continued to enter her gradually, wanting to make this last for the both of them. Burying his muzzle in her mane, Page groaned, waiting for her to relax before he continued.

Soon, Page bottomed out inside of her, his testicles slapping against her clitoris on the last motion. Libra squeezed his neck and arched her back against him, letting out a partial, joyful scream before she muffled herself again.

Panting, Page held himself still and rubbed her stomach once more. “R-ready?”

Libra nodded and pushed against him, quickly removing her forehoof from his mouth. “G-go and don’t s-stop!”

Page Turner needed only her approval, and when he received it, he finally let go, thrusting deep and rapid with long, masterful strokes.

“Nggg! Haah! Haah! Aah, oh, BUCK, Page!”

Squirming, thrashing, bucking, and grinding against him, Libra Scales closed her eyes and dissolved into ecstasy, into the sweet friction of his rock-hard stallionhood thrusting back and forth into her quivering marehood, into the depths of sensation and intimacy and union.

Rough and brash, Page Turner took her as he had before so long ago, as she had begged for it then—thrusting deep, hard, and fast, without so much as a reminder.

Withholding the temptation to scream, Libra clung to his neck, leaning back against him as completely as she could. Each motion sent white-hot pleasure galloping through her, from the filling firmness of him inside her, from the delightful pressure of his orbs slapping against her pearl.

It was something that his bastard of a brother had denied her often, something that she had abstained from for eight years until this night. It was something she craved—no, needed.

And Page Turner, the father of her Babs Seed, the savior of her daughter, the one she had dreamed of for so long, was the one giving it to her.

Libra Scales could have had a heart attack right then and there, and she would have left Heaven behind.

Her inner walls clung desperately to him, pulling him further, deeper. Libra moaned further at Page’s own cries of rapture. His teeth found her nape over and over again, pulling rough, pulling taut—something that only he, out of all the stallions she had been with, would do to her, and, oh, how she loved it.

As her marehood continued to clamp down on him, a vice of heat and pressure, Page shuddered and let out a moan. He felt his stallionhood twitch violently inside her, close to flaring. Releasing her nape, he managed between pants, “Nnng… Haah… Libra, I’m—”

Reaching back, Libra silenced him, slamming her lips against his as she pulled him into a deep, passionate kiss.

With a loud, deep groan, muffled by her tongue twisting around his own, Page Turner finally released. His stallionhood flared and spasmed wildly as he reached his zenith. Thick, hot spurts of his seed emptied inside her, the excess trickling down both their hindhooves.

Less than few seconds later, Libra Scales slammed down on him, her inner walls securing him in place. She thrashed and bucked and grinded, riding out her orgasm. Her hooves shook and trembled for purchase while she suppressed her screams, throwing both forehooves over her muzzle.

Within the walls of The Horseshoe, Libra Scales and Page Turner soared again, pegasi in the eternal night performing the ancient sky-dance, entwining hooves and lips and ethereal wings.

Here, in an Equestria of their own, Libra Scales and Page Turner became one, finding their ascent with and within each other, bound together by the love they shared in mind, heart, and body.

Her heart racing, her breathing shallow and ragged, Libra released her grip on her stallion, slumping on her side into the bed. A moment later, Page joined his mare, panting, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

As soon as he softened, he withdrew from her, then collapsed against her back, resting his muzzle under her neck.

“Hah… Hah… Aah… Libra…” Covered in sweat, scent, and fluid, Page laid his forehooves on her stomach and closed his eyes, coming down slowly.

“Hahhh… Page…” Libra weakly squeezed his forehooves with her own, holding them close. She, too, was drenched and exhausted, her inner flanks and marehood matted with a combination of both of their juices, her mane a tangled mess, her coat glistening with sweat.

“Dat… dat was…”

“... All I ever wanted,” she finished, using the last of her remaining strength to flip over and face him.

Page grinned. “Ye… Y-yeah?”

Libra nodded and melted into him, resting against his chest. “Everything, and more.”

Elated, Page Turner melted into his mare back, holding her as close as possible. He nuzzled and kissed her cheek, sighing in bliss. “I can’t believe it finally happened. Afta all these years…”

Libra Scales kissed his neck, whispering, “You can thank our daughter for that.”

He laughed. “Yes, I think we can.”

In the silence that followed, completely still and soundless but for their breath and heartbeats, Page Turner thought back to that night in Manehatten, to the foal in the alleyway behind his bar.

When he looked in the mirror and stood beside her now, he couldn’t believe his foalishness. How could he have thought she was anypony but his own? Anypony but Libra’s own? Their own? How could he have not recognized then? How could he have convinced himself of anything else?

And, he wondered, looking down at the mare lying in his hooves, how much grief and pain and heartbreak had he caused them—he, his mare, and his daughter—all because of his foalish mistake?

The wind blew through the ajar window, ruffling his mane. She shivered. He held her closer.

On the other hoof, if he had recognized Babs Seed back then, who was to say it would have made things any better? Perhaps only doing so would have made the situation worse for her or her mother, or even himself.

Perhaps Babs Seed would have not been ready for the truth then. Perhaps Libra Scales would not have loved him then as she did now. Perhaps neither of them would have been ready.

Perhaps he would not have been ready.

Libra Scales closed her eyes and sighed like a bellows against his chest. In spite of the warmth, he shivered, then smiled.

Then again…

Page Turner’s mind drew him back to an old memory, one of the first he had made when he left the cabin in the woods and struck it out alone.

While he had been making his way out of the forest, galloping as fast as his little hooves could take him, he came across an old stallion blocking his path. Grizzled and weathered, his long, wavy white mane accompanied by a matching beard, the stallion had asked little Page Turner where he was going.

When Page Turner told him that he was running away, the old stallion shook his head and frowned, then asked why. When he had been unable to reply, the old stallion said something else… Something that stuck with him throughout his life and was brought to the surface on this moonlit night:

”When I was a foal, I thought and reasoned as a foal… When I became a stallion, I put the ways of colthood behind me. For now, you shall see only as a reflection as in a mirror; in time, you shall see things face-to-face. Now you know in part the truth. In time, you shall know fully, when you are fully known.”

Twenty-eight years later, in the thirty-third room of The Horseshoe, as he lay beside his daughter’s mother—his mare—Page Turner understood the old stallion at last.

Everything was as it needed to be then, and everything was as it was supposed to be now.

His life, once lonely, dark, and despondent, was now full of light and laughter and love.

The future was bright, and he wouldn’t change a single thing.

“Page?”

Page looked down. Libra had one eye open as she smiled up at him.

“What are you thinking about?”

Page smiled back and kissed her forehead.

“Jus’ an old friend, Libra.

“Jus’ an old friend.”

After a few more kisses, hushed whispers of goodnight and I-love-you, and the click of a lamp, Page Turner closed his eyes. So did Libra Scales.

For the first time in an eternity, neither slept alone that night.

And it was everything they ever wanted.

And it was worth every second of their wait.