Polyamory in D Minor

It was a surprisingly fanciful affair. Neon suspected that the two of them had split the room in two at one point, but eventually their interests bled together in a mishmash of old Germane pub and new Germane disko. The bar itself was made of cherry wood, highly polished to a light, tannish wash. Neon could feel his hooves slide comfortably on the shiny surface. Ornate decor bordered the ceiling, casting fanciful shadows on the opposite wall from the dim, low-light orange lamps that hung above its surface.

Neon didn’t. He only gave a knowing smirk and an affirming nod. He stood on one side of the bar, surrounded by a thousand sources of intoxication and relaxation, with the two mares on the other side. One leaning against the cherry wood with a toothpick hanging from her grey lips, the other one wrapped her partner in a warm hug. Vinyl’s horn glowed, and an old rock-and-roll CD blasted out soul from a speaker in the corner.

Neon looked the both of them over. Charcoal mare held white unicorn, nibbling her ear. Octavia made Vinyl squirm, made Vinyl hers. And both of them made eyes at him. These were a pair of mares so wildly in love he was lucky to even be allowed to mix their drinks.

Dammit. The doubts were on the way back.

How could he even hope to hold a candle when two flares shone so bright together? What did he give their relationship it didn’t have before? How could they brush all of this aside and let him take the burden of trying to understand, to know how it felt to be a part of something? Did they really know him as well as they thought? Did he know them as well as he thought?

Neon cleared his throat. He had drinks to pour.

“What’ll you two lovely ladies be having?”

Octavia cracked a toothy grin. “Cosmare for me,” she cooed.

“I’ll take an Appletini!” Vinyl squeaked.

Neon nodded, ancient knowledge resurfacing to the front of his mind, drowning out new concerns.

He cracked his neck from side to side, rolled his shoulders around, even flexed a bit as he pulled out spirits, anything he could do to keep up the goofiness and keep away the thoughts of worthlessness and needlessness. But try as he could, Neon couldn’t keep it up. His Stepford smile fell flat, his brow furrowing with concentration.

Maybe being professional about it would work. His face went neutral, but his brain went hyperactive, exact measurements zipping through his cortex. Neon spun a pair of cocktail glasses onto the bartop, his eyes narrowing along with his focus as a tumbler flipped around in his hooves, the cool, familiar touch of metal dousing the feelings brought on by the warm touch of lips together.

Showtime.

First up, Cosmare. Three parts citrus vodka, check, splashing into the mixer like water, filling the air with a strong, sweet scent, lemony and yet eye-wateringly brain-numbing. Two parts cranberry juice, check, red cranberry bled into clear citrus, like Octavia’s crimson-tinged eyes bled into his heart. One part Cointrot triple sec, check, keep it classy. Octavia liked classy, the cosmos darkening, clouded now with a tinge of orange. One part lime juice, check, giving it the kick she needed. Stir, pour, flame with an orange slice, serve. Neon pushed the drink forward, swallowing.

His hoof was shaking. He knew Octavia could tell he was nervous still. He knew it, and he knew that she was just laughing it off.

“You can uncross your eyes now, Neon,” she chortled.

Neon blinked a few times, and the mares in front of him giggled delightedly at his expense. Curtain, first act. So far, so good. So what if his hooves still shook?

“Hey, I haven’t done it in a while! I needed to focus!”

Vinyl giggled. “Hey, while you’re focused, loverboy, whip me up that Appletini, would ya?”

Neon blinked again. Magenta eyes. White lips asking for a green drink. Beauty he was unworthy of, asking him of all ponies to mix for her. Focus, he told himself. Focus, don’t think about it. Power. Drinks had power. Water wisping against the sides of the mixer, bottles flying in and out of his sight. Second act, go.

Three parts vodka, check, the strong stuff, kicked like a bastard. Vinyl the bastard unicorn, years in an orphanage. A half-part apple juice, sickly sweet and sticky, and a half-part Apple Family Cider from Ponyville. A bottle he remembered sending up to Vinyl at Christmas, and she had sent back a note telling him how much she loved it.

She loved him. Octavia did too. Neon desperately tried to blink it away, but it kept returning to the forefront of his mind.

A dash of vermouth for class, though that wasn’t her style, she’d appreciate the gesture. A part of Cointrot, a good thing he didn’t put away the bottle, great mares think alike after all. He held the tumbler up in his hooves, feeling droplets drip onto them, alcohol and ice-cold drops of water mixing with his sweat, the air full of the scent of needy mares, oh Goddess the air had needy mare in it and he wasn’t ready for it, and he saw concern in Vinyl’s eyes for a moment as he looked up at her, away from his work. His eyes were blurry, making her glow like some sort of angel.

“Shaken or stirred?”

She hesitated, then she giggled.

“Shake it up, sweetie!”

Neon slapped the cap on, shook it. Check. Pour, garnish with an apple slice. Check. Serve.

He felt lightheaded. He couldn’t stop thinking about them. He dared not stop thinking about them.

The drinks didn’t work. They wouldn’t work until they drank them. Until alcohol blinded them to his thoughts and feelings. Until he could blur the gazes piercing into his soul the same as his eyes blurred now. Neon knew they could see every twitch in his mouth towards a frown, hear how fast his heart beat, threatening to tear from his chest and sing Hello My Baby on its way out of the house. Neon felt the pressure of a pair of goddesses asking for him, and felt himself so utterly and completely crushed by it.

Octavia had to tap his hoof to get his attention.

“And what are you having, Neon?” Octavia said with a smirk.

Neon looked over his sunglasses, a little bit of sincerity slipping into his shaky mirror of Octavia’s smile. He grabbed a bottle of rust-colored, filthy bourbon, the label fading off and peeling. Eirish Eiglasses, the needlessly flowery lettering said proudly. Neon’s face stretched from timid smirk to a wide, pained smile, and his hoof fumbled with the cap as he popped the bottle open. There were a couple of giggles, but they fell into an uneasy silence.

He raised the bottle.

“Are you okay, Neon?” Octavia said softly, voice laced with concern, a poison against his defense.

He grimaced. The whiskey smelled strong, smokey. It stung his bleary eyes. It was just what he needed.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Vinyl broke from Octavia’s hold and sat up, leaning towards Neon with a hoof and gently pressing it against his forehead, checking for a temperature. He pulled away, and the back of Vinyl’s hoof was soaked with sweat that she wiped away on her own coat.

“Neon, you look like you’re about to have a heart attack,” Vinyl said.

“What?! I’m okay! Seriously!”

Four eyes glared at him. Neon groaned.

“Seriously, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me!”

“Neon, you’re a friend and a lover. We’re supposed to worry about you.”

“I just… No. It’s nothing. It’s okay! I…”

He sighed. The bottle clinked dully as it fell onto the tabletop, and Neon put his hooves on either side of the bottle, spinning it around idly.

“I just, well, guys, I…”

Octavia took a calm sip of her Cosmare, putting a hoof over his. “It’s okay, Neon.”

“It’s not, alright? It’s really not, especially after, y’know, all that upstairs, I guess. I just…”

“Just what?” Vinyl murmured.

Neon sighed. He took a swig of whiskey and felt his throat burn, wiping his mouth with the back of a foreleg.

He didn’t dare look into her eyes. He didn’t dare see how much his fear hurt them. He put his hooves out on the table and sighed, dizzy from the low of whiskey and the high of a new relationship, the ideas stirring within him pleasant at times, but mostly uncertain still, despite his best efforts. Neon wiped his mouth three times to make sure he swept away any remaining drool, his mind running a mile a minute and his brain running a millimeter in the same time.

“Just, I mean…”

He stammered and stuttered. Whether it was due to the alcohol or the embarrassing, if not lovely, images in his head, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he was a little bit tipsy, and a little bit frightened. A little bit intimidated, and ever so slightly excited. Two beautiful, wonderful marefriends, when most stallions couldn’t handle one.

Both mares sipped their drinks and kept their eyes on him, their attention rapt, the rock record skipping a beat. Neon used the space to clear his throat.

“It’s just, well, I’m kinda not sure how we’re gonna approach the whole, uhm, thing. Cause, uhm, truth is, I…”

Neon swallowed. “Well, I mean… I’m nervous.”

Vinyl’s hoof was over the hoof on the bottle, her smile bright and loving. Neon sighed and smiled back nervously.

“We get it, Neon,” she said gently, lidding her eyes. Neon blinked and looked away, breaking from Vinyl’s touch and trying to keep his eyes from slipping back up into Vinyl’s gaze. She took another sip of her Appletini and smacked her lips with appreciation. Neon suppressed a thousand lewd images induced by alcohol and new marefriends.

“I mean, I’m nervous, and stuff, cause I’ve never done this,” he said, flatly, ashamed.

Vinyl spat out her drink. Unfortunately, this ended up spraying Neon on the face in a combination of spittle and Appletini. Thankfully none of it got in his eyes, but it was enough to make him shout and fall backwards from his seat, groaning.

“You’re still a virgin?!” she cried.

Neon groaned, rolling to his side. Vinyl’s face fell with realization, and she sheepishly peeked over the counter.

“Sorry. I mean, I just figured–”

“I’m not a virgin,” Neon muttered painfully from his position on the floor, slowly making his shaky, tipsy way to his hooves.

“Oh.”

If Vinyl’s face could have turned any redder, she would have turned into a tomato. She even let off a few errant sparks of magic, a high-pitched whine trapped in her throat as she tried to not-so-subtly deal with her embarrassment. Octavia, for her part, was puffing out her cheeks trying not to laugh her ass off.

Neon’s head poked over the bar again. He spat on his hoof, slicked back his mane, and adjusted his tie. Octavia snickered.

“You don’t have to lie, Neon.”

“I’m not! Really! Lost it at that first party Vinyl hosted back in college, regretted not saving it, then forgot about all that fidelity shit and became the class stud! You know the ladies loved me!”

“Wait, was that the one where that skank Cloudchaser was all over you?”

Neon flushed. “She was cool, she wasn’t a skank,” he grumbled.

“I used to think they just thought you were cute and vulnerable,” Octavia smirked.

Neon pouted. “Sure. That and drop-dead sexy.”

Vinyl swallowed, her face now down to a healthy pink, and she took a sip of Appletini to clear her throat.

“But you took them one at a time.”

Neon sighed.

“Yeah. I… That’s why this is all really new to me. I’ve never, uhm really had an opportunity for this, I guess, I…”

Octavia snickered. “Most stallions haven’t.”

Neon chuckled. “Guess that’s why I’m nervous. Uhm…”

He sighed. “What I mean to ask is, if it’s all right with you and stuff, well, how much experience do you guys have with this?”

Vinyl squeaked and covered her mouth with her hoof to keep from spitting up her drink again. Neon lowered the foreleg he had raised to shield himself, and saw something new in Octavia’s stare when his eyes happened upon hers.

There was something definitely naughty there now. A hint of something he hadn’t noticed before, or at least, noticed was directed at him. She had lidded her eyes and focused the laser gaze of her purple irises into his, and he noticed her flicking her gaze downward every now and again. He knew she was checking him out. Neon swallowed. He wasn’t anything particularly special, nothing that was deserving of this mare that now caressed him with her eyes. Her gaze was intimidating, yet inviting, intimate, wanting.

Vinyl hid behind her drink and pretended to take meek little sips. Octavia beckoned Neon to come closer, and he was powerless to disobey. Such was the siren-like power of those lovely purple eyes. He leaned his head over the countertop, and Octavia’s muzzle grazed against his earlobe, speaking so gently and yet so warmly, her voice resonating through the organ, making it twitch.

“Let’s just say,” she murmured, with a lust-laden voice, “Vinyl’s after-parties get pretty crazy. Usually just for her, though.”

She almost pulled away, but Neon mouthed the word “wait,” and she did just that.

“What do you mean, just for her?” he whispered back.

She smiled. “I mean, she takes a little group downstairs for a few… private drinks. I’ve seen maybe three or four stallions down here at a time.”

Neon’s eyes widened, a blush rising to his cheeks.

“None of this involves you?”

Octavia’s tone was still lustful, but now had the slightest hint of melancholy.

“I don’t like to get involved in the crazy stuff.”

“But now you’re here,” Neon muttered.

Octavia’s cheeks turned a tinge pink. “Now I’m here. It helps that I actually…”

She licked the inside of his ear. Neon gasped in surprise and pulled away, stammering.

“Care about you,” Octavia finished at conversation volume.

Neon glanced at Vinyl. She was practically a beetroot, her cheeks puffed indignantly as she swirled her Appletini distractedly.

“Two guys,” she squeaked.

Octavia leaned towards her, perking up an ear and giggling. “Hm?”

“N-No more than two guys,” Vinyl stammered. “Third dude was a, uhm, a-a cameracolt.”

“Cameracolt?”

Vinyl squeaked meekly and nodded. Neon took a small swig of whiskey, thought better of it, and only swallowed half of it, spitting the other half into an unused glass.

“Who… took care of him?” Neon said.

“The other two guys,” Vinyl hummed.

“Huh,” Neon said. Octavia cackled.

He felt that he should have swallowed the other half of that whiskey.

“So,” Neon said.

“Yeah?”

Vinyl seemed to be back in recovery mode, finishing her Appletini and setting it down. Neon almost felt like mixing her another drink, but as he reached for the tumbler, Vinyl shook her head and pushed the glass away. Neon shrugged. She was probably saving up for when she really needed to party.

“I guess you’ve got some, uhm, expertise.”

Vinyl nodded.

“So…”

She smiled, and put her hooves over his, holding them up and pulling him close. Their noses touched, and Neon could feel how warm hers was, flushed with hot-blooded embarrassment. Her features really were kind. He could see the laughter creases in the corners of her eyes and the permanent dimples where her smile stretched across her face. There was even the faded remnants of what had been freckles in her youth. Now they were gone and smooth, but ingrained in Neon’s mind from days long ago.

But most striking was what was in her eyes. Trust. Love. Compassion. And that same desire Octavia had in hers. It felt warmer here, safer. Less predatory. Magenta hues brighter, less like siren, more… like a mother. Neon almost felt compelled to kiss her, but stayed silent and still.

“Three really basic rules, okay?” she whispered.

“Okay,” he whispered back.

Vinyl leaned back, and Neon followed her at first, wanting the touch of their noses to linger. If only the bar wasn’t so thick, else he could have made it across for at least a peck. He almost chastised himself for wanting to kiss Octavia’s marefriend, until he chastised himself for not remembering that she was his marefriend too, and after all, they hadn’t even kissed yet. Any of them. Not even a peck.

“You better listen to this too, Tavi. It’s important.”

“Kay,” Octavia said, finishing her Cosmare with one last gulp and a sigh of satisfaction. Vinyl turned to her and smiled wider, making eyes at her mare. Octavia eyed her in return, and Neon felt his heart melt at the spectacle, maybe helped a bit by the heat of her hooves on his. She let go of one hoof, only for Octavia to grab it, her grip shaky, but firm.

They were connected. They were in this together.

Neon felt the gentlest smile spread across his face.

“Rule one. Participate.”

Neon and Octavia nodded. Vinyl giggled.

“Rule two. No such thing as stupid questions. Especially the first time.”

All eyes were on Vinyl. She smiled.

“Rule three. Least experienced gets the most attention.”

Neon blushed hotly.

“It’s not ‘have fun’?” Octavia snickered.

“That’s a given,” Vinyl giggled.

They stood still a moment, the laughter never dying, a small hum of a chuckle or an amused crick in somepony’s smile. All three of them together just basking in each other’s presence. The air was laden with the scent of drinks. It was fruity in parts, bitter in others, melding to create something sweet and wonderful. Neon knew if he closed his eyes he could still find love in that scent. He could find it in the soursweet, lemony cynicism of Octavia and the fruity, heavy affection of Vinyl which overpowered the oaken, wooden taste of whiskey still on his breath.

Neon felt more than relief now. He felt confidence. There were some leftover nerves, some awkward quirks and kinks still left foreseeable in the night to come, but he had the courage now to face them. He had the courage to deal with what came as it came. It wasn’t a question of if they were right now, it was a question of when Neon was going to take a chance and be more stallion than most.

He squeezed his marefriends’ hooves, and they reciprocated. It felt trite and right all at once and he wouldn’t have given it up for the world. He didn’t want to break the silence.

But with his eyes closed, and his confidence mounting, Neon found himself being more adventurous in thought.

He didn’t want those adventures to remain in his head, though, when they could easily find themselves played out tonight.

So he cleared his throat and opened his eyes halfway, giving his mares a little smile.

“I guess we’re heading up, then.”

Vinyl sighed. “I thought you’d never ask.”