Dreads-ful situation (MxF, OCxOC)
The bath water was hot, even now, though the steam probably wasn’t helping. He could feel her skin under that black and white coat of hers, and it felt good. His hands slipped over her breasts, massaging and molding, pressing her back against his chest. He felt the reverberations of her moans through his lips at her neck, pressing kisses and licks into them between deep breaths through his nose, as though to reassure himself she was there.
Her jewellery was left at the bathside, and he couldn’t remember where his clothes were. Not that he cared to remember. He didn’t care much for where hers were either. He slipped a hand down her side, locking his lips to her neck and sucking eagerly. She squeaked, much to his delight, though his next attempt had her moaning sweetly again as his hand found her thigh, kneading the flesh under the hot water slowly. Her hands were on his, one at her breast, the other her thigh. She was squeezing them, which in turn spurred him to keep going, if not be a bit more aggressive.
His teeth met her neck as he bit her now, his teeth making marks unto her flesh and she cried out in ecstasy.
“Zanath…”
~*~
Dreads woke up with a start. It took him a moment to remember where he was. Right, a dusty desert in a sleeping bag, tracking down some thief or other, because his mentor had thought it a good ‘beginner’s job’. Not too far from him was his mentor, Zubari. Larger than Dreads by a magnitude, Zubari was a shadow warrior of his tribe, one of the largest in Zebrica, and had been teaching Dreads, originally from Canterlot, his way of life. Dreads was, as expected of a descendant of the shadow Stripes, a large stallion. Standing just under six foot four, he gave Zubari a run for his money even, but Zu was still bigger.
Thankfully, the older stallion was still asleep. It might’ve been difficult to explain the details of his dream to the big stallion. You don’t exactly just tell someone you’re having sexual fantasies about their sister. No, that was dangerous, especially with Zubari. Being the first born of his family, it was his job to protect his siblings, and he did so zealously. Not saying the rest of his family couldn’t defend themselves, but Zubari certainly didn’t let anything happen to them if he could prevent it. Unless it’s his middle brother getting slapped or something. He normally just let that happen. But then Zirqon generally deserved it.
“Fuck me…”
He couldn’t focus. He was trying not to let it show, but he knew Zubari had noticed. Not a single detail slipped by the hunter. Not ever. And it showed. Zubari’s track record was flawless. Dreads had been fully focused on his studies, but the previous fortnight, Zubari had introduced him to his family.
The matriarch’s family.
Though he could stand meeting and being upstanding to his youngest brother, Zhevran, who would succeed his mother as leader of the tribe, and Zirqon, the perveted middle brother, Dreads eloquence had come to a screaming, jarring halt upon meeting Zubari’s sister, Zanath.
Now, Zanath was older than him, no doubt. But, as far as Dreads was concerned, she was perfect. Perfect eyes, perfect height, perfect hips, waist, chest…
He shook his head, trying to stave off such thoughts. She was an Enchantress, and thus, far from the trackers and bounty hunters he was training to become. An unattainable goal. Besides, he was fairly certain she just saw him as an annoyance. Although, that said, he liked her abrupt style too. She spoke plainly, and spoke her mind, regardless what others seemed to think. She, like her youngest brother, was incredibly intelligent, and very talented with magic. Zubari, at the time, had merely seemed to blame Dread’s speechlessness upon her abrupt way of telling him to go away, and Dreads hadn’t tried to convince him otherwise. Dreads was barely twenty. He had no idea how old Zanath was, and hadn’t seen it polite to ask of it. Besides, it might give away information he didn’t want getting out.
He had a serious thing for her.
It probably hadn’t helped that, upon meeting her, she had been wearing an outfit that, in Equestria, would have been seen as either ‘obscene’ or far too ‘improper’, showing off her midsection in a tribal skirt and top, with a very fancy hairstyle to go with it. In short, she’d been absolutely stunning. The family had been visiting Zebrica, and Zubari had seen fit to introduce them. Probably an obligation since he’d taken on Dreads as a student.
Ugh, this is stupid. I’m not getting anywhere on this.
He pushed his sleeping bag off of him and stood up, stretching briefly, before sneaking another look at Zubari. The big zebra was asleep still, thankfully, so the younger zebra took a deep breath and left the camp. Figuring he’d find firewood first. Unfortunately, there was little to be had. A fact he was surprised he didn’t consider before, considering he was in a desert. So, instead, he found a relatively flat area, and started running through a series of exercises Zubari’d taught him.
The first Martial combat Zubari had taught him had been a form of Tai Chi, not for combat purposes either. Dreads was an angry stallion, or had been, for a long time. Tai Chi was a martial art dedicated mostly to Strength, breath, visualisation and body structure. It was used often to relax and calm, as he found the slower movements much less demanding.
Slowly, he began to run through the various techniques. The smooth movements relaxed his muscles, and he tried to picture flowing water as he did so, a visualisation that, apparently, helped.
Water, flowing through a stream. It parts around a rock, wearing it down. The ability to go around an obstacle, to wear it down, rather than waste energy breaking through. So too must my movements be, and so too must I work, going around the obstacle, find the path of least resistance. Water is soothing, warming. It washes away stress, eases pain, lubricates the passing of pain, leaves one refreshed, hydrated, sleek and-
He stopped suddenly and shook his head again with a grunt, his dreadlocks whipping him several times in the violent display. Another image of Zanath had popped up in his head, this time in an imagined Equestria styled one piece bathing suit, and had distracted him yet again. Probably didn’t help that it was closer to a designer style, and not reserved.
“Alright… water’s out of the equation then,” He muttered to himself, sinking into a different stance ready for a different set of movements.
The Earth, he thought as he began the more primal form and style of Hung Gar. A style known for strong stances, and rooting oneself to the ground beneath ones feet.
The earth is strong, the earth is stubborn. The earth moves only with the strength of one who would command it, stronger than itself. The earth is versatile, the earth is unmoving. The earth will absorb anything the universe will throw at it, and remain strong, supple, unw-
He stopped again, frozen midstance, and groaned as another piece of the dream blasted its way back into his memory. The ‘feeling’ of his hands at Zanath’s breasts, and how they looked as he’d groped them. Not a good start, and even worse getting along. He hadn’t even gotten that far.
So. Earth and Water both. Well fine. Fire was always more my style anyway.
So, he settled into his preferred method of attack, determined to at least finish one set of exercises that morning. Shaolin Kung Fu, from all the way from the Neighsian dynasties, was a powerful art made up of powerful hand and leg movements. His favourite, and most practiced, style.
Fire, he thought resolutely, making the first strike, Fire is powerful, fire is passionate. Fire molds and attacks all obstacles in its path with the single minded intensity of making it burn. Attack from all directions, single minded and uncaring. It can be dangerous, and turn on its master if unheeded or not cared for properly. Fire is-
Another flash, this time of the bright blush and steam from the dream before and Dreads almost cried out in frustration, stuffing his fist in his mouth at the last second to cut it off.
You cannot be serious right now! He thought angrily, “I just want to fucking… ugh!”
He looked at his hands dubiously. He only had one style left. He stuck to the four main ‘elements’ of the world, as Zubari had instructed, and they’d served him well so far. But he wasn’t terribly good at the last style, though he didn’t really understand why. Zubari had once told him it was because air snuffed out fire, and that a free spirit, though possible to be passionate, didn’t have the single minded purpose that Earth, Water or Fire did. But, reluctantly, he sank into position anyway.
The first stance of Baguazhang, otherwise known as ‘Circle Walking’.
The air. Ever moving, ever changing. Without form, without anger, Air is not made to destroy. Air is evasive, and nonviolent. However, given the chance, Air can act strong, and defend those it deems worthy. Air-
He fell on his ass after losing concentration mid leap and sticking his landing, this time a vision of Zanath from his first memory of her sticking in his head. He howled in frustration, drawing the dagger at his side, turning and hurling it all at once. The single bladed weapon buried itself in the sands and Dreads hid his face in his hands, almost on the verge of crying.
Why couldn’t he get her out of his head!?
“Something bothering you kid?”
It was only when Dreads looked up that he realised he was on his knees. Zubari, shirtless like himself, looked down at the young warrior sympathetically. Dreads took a deep breath, trying to root himself in this moment, to calm himself. It didn’t help, it just made him think of the Earth again, and again the flashback was there. Running his hands through his hair helped a little.
“Nothing sir,” He said stiffly in reply, “Just… a bit of frustration. Still can’t get air right.”
Zubari huffed, obviously unimpressed.
“I’ve been here since your second attempt,” He clarified with a wry smile, “It’s not just that is it?”
Dreads hesitated. Zubari spoke again, “You know you can tell me anything, right Dreads? I’m not going to judge you. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”
Yeah, but I’ll bet you’ve never crushed on your mentor’s sister, Dreads thought bitterly. But that wasn’t what came out of his mouth.
“Yeah… I know.”
“So, spill,” Zubari insisted, sitting across from his student, a respectful distance between the two of them. Dreads hesitated once again, before making a decision.
It’s not like he needs to know everything…
“It’s… It’s a girl.”
Zubari obviously wasn’t impressed. Dreads was quick to continue.
“It’s not… I didn’t sleep with her,” He insisted quickly, “I haven’t even really spoken to her much. It’s just…”
“She’s caught your eye,” Zubari said slowly. Dreads nodded.
“I’m trying to get her out of here,” He grunted, putting his fists to his temples, “I thought… I thought training, exercising, would help.
It’s always helped me focus before, to concentrate on the task at hand. But…”
“Everything reminds you of her,” Zubari finished for him. Dreads nodded. Zubari sighed this time, thinking.
“I just… I know I can’t have her… I thought that, after Kariin I’d… but I’m still too weak to let go, aren’t I?”
Zubari appraised his young student with a critical eye. Dreads had grown at an alarming rate the past few years. Giving him an outlet for all the aggression he felt towards his father, and his frustration at city life, had done him a world of good, and Zubari liked to think he was more a father figure to the boy than a teacher, though he was that too.
“It’s not that you’re weak, Dreads,” He said reassuringly, “You’re just passionate. And you have a hard time letting go of those passions.”
“Obsession, more like,” Dreads said bitterly. Zubari couldn’t help but smile.
“Kid, I labelled you a fiery Zebra the first moment I met you. And I wasn’t wrong. What’re the traits of fire?”
Dreads took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
“Determination, passion, easily angered, difficult to control,” He said slowly. Zubari nodded.
“True. You’re a determined zebra, Dreads, and you are angered easily. You’re also incredibly passionate, in every aspect of your life. Be it the hunt, your training, and whatnot. But Fire is most passionate in the aspect of love, or devotion. And you need to learn to control that, because if you don’t, it could destroy you.”
“Easier said than done,” Dreads muttered darkly.
“True,” Zubari continued, “And it’s not something I can teach you. My patron element is Earth, not fire, like yourself. So I cannot teach you how to control your passions, any more than you could explain to me how deeply they run. I’d never understand it.”
“Doesn’t make thing any easier.”
“No, it doesn’t. But you’ll push through it anyway, like you have with everything else.”
Dreads looked up, his dreads framing his harsh features, to the harsher, scarred visage of his teacher.
“I trust in your abilities to adapt, kid,” Zubari said fondly, standing up, “After all. Fires aren’t known to give up easily. Only when all their fuel is gone. Think on that. I’m going to make breakfast. Meet you back at camp.”
And he left, a hand briefly pressing against Dreads’ head. The young Warrior had to think for a while, and he had time.
Fire is powerful… It adapts to its situations by growing hotter, or gives up when its fuel is taken away. It doesn’t expend needless energy, and always finds what energy it needs. This generally means zebras and ponies that base themselves upon the fire element have hidden reserves of energy nopony else has, or can understand. They’re not as stubborn as Earth fighters, and will give if the need is great.
Our passion is great, as is our anger. But love? I mean, I’ve heard of love being described as a spark, or a flame, but come on. That’s just a saying. It has no basis in this aspect… does it?
He frowned.
Besides, who says it’s love? Lust is always spoken of as a fire. It’s probably just a stupid infatuation. Maybe, if I can find her flaws, I can dispel it?
Another flash, this time of her looking at him, hands on her hips, exposed midsection incredibly tempting, and he grit his teeth, forcing it from his mind.
Fuck… This is harder than I thought. She’s abrupt? That’s a flaw, right? She’s very outspoken, to the point of cruelty I suppose. That’s a flaw too. She treats others like they mean nothing? I mean, she wasn’t really polite to me… But then, Zubari had warned me we were interrupting her research… Maybe that’s what it was? No! No, flaws Dreads! Flaws! Fuck’s sake.
Another flash, this time a little fantasy of him and her, her on him though, holding him down with a smug grin on her face. He growled at himself and ground his knuckles into his head.
Fuck’s sake, get out of my head! I don’t have the time to be thinking about you like that… fucking succubus bitch… Why are you so perfect!?
He couldn’t really think of her any other way. He knew her flaws, he just went over them. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. For some reason, it just didn’t matter to him.
Spirits damn you Zanath… why must you torment me so!?
“Fuck… I’ll just talk to her then,” He growled to himself, standing up and brushing sand from his pants and back as best he could, “Maybe, when she laughs in my face, it’ll be easier to take.”
It was going to hurt. Instinctively, he knew that. But, given a plan of attack, he seemed to be calmer, more in control. With another deep breath, he sighed slowly.
It’s not perfect… Not like her. But it’s better than nothing. And it’ll work… I’m sure it will.
With that thought firmly cemented in his mind, he went to join his mentor for breakfast, and to agonise over his decision, be it for better, or worse.
SOME TIME LATER
The Shadow Stripes tribe prided themselves on many things. Their culture, their way of life, and of course, their soldiers.
The strongest militant force in Zebrica resided in the Shadow stripes tribe. Warriors that were stronger, faster and just overall better than everyzebra else. This was the tribe Zubari hailed from, as well as his apprentice descended from. And they were back in camp.
Dreads had caught his target, though he’d nearly suffered a sliced carotid for it. The wound wasn’t nasty, and Zubari had stitched it together the best he could, but the healers of the village still insisted upon taking a look at it, one of them muttering that he didn’t want Dreads to end up like Zubari. Dreads, to be honest, thought it’d be kind of awesome to look like his mentor, covered in scars. But he also knew each scar had its own story, and not having that would diminish the awesome factor by several denominations.
It was almost three days before the healers allowed him to leave, much to his annoyance, despite his reassuring them he was fine. He had to keep his temper in check more than once as the healers became more and more paranoid, but once he exhibited no symptoms of anything worse than maybe chronic pains, they let him out, naught but a thin line hidden under his coat to show for it.
And Zubari had taken him aside, and the pair had celebrated his first contract. Zubari even let him keep the wanted poster. Told him it brought good luck. Dreads was not a suspicious person, but if his mentor told him it was a good idea, then he’d try it out.
It was during his time at the encampment that he met the mare who plagued his mind again. She’d done so for almost a month, maybe more. It was frustrating, and it had thwarted him more times than he’d like to admit. It was his lapse in focus that’d almost got him killed, in fact.
And this time, she walked in on him, rather than him on her.
“I had heard you were injured in your hunt.”
Dreads looked up, his eyes widening and his ears pinning back flat against his head. Once again, the stunning Zebress was in clothing that most of Equestria would consider risqué. Tribal wear was, of course, a favourite of the tribes, but none wore it, Dreads believed, better than Zanath. She was a well developed mare indeed. Her body curved in the most provocative of manners, and she had the most beautiful coat he’d seen in a long while. Though, last he’d seen her, she’d been short, to the point, and angry. Zubari’d told him it was because they’d disturbed her studies.
“D-Dame Zanath!” He said, alarmed, “I… I was not expecting a visit.”
He was in his own quarters, upon the simple bed within. He hadn’t been expecting company, so he was only wearing a plain, white singlet and pants. He made to stand, to make the proper respect, and she held up a hand.
“Stop.”
He did.
“Sit.”
He also did. If Zanath told you to do something, you simply did it. Though, Dreads doubted he could do any different, even without her standing in the tribe. As daughter to the matriarch, or ‘Dame’ is Zanath’s title was, she had absolute authority, much like her mother. Not to the degree that her mother did, of course, but if she told you something, or to do something, you did it.
With the practiced air of indifference, she swept across the room, seated herself next to him, and pushed his chin up. Just her touch sent electric shocks down Dreads’ spine, though he refused to show it. He felt light touches, like butterfly wings, running across his throat, where the cut had been healed. He felt a blush coming on, but shoved it back down.
“There’s nothing here.”
“I know,” Dreads said nervously, “I kept telling them I was fine milady but…”
“They overreact at the best of times,” she muttered, “And don’t act fast enough at the worst. I know.”
She stood up, sniffing. Dreads got the distinct feeling she was unimpressed. It was probably correct. For a long while, there was absolute silence. An awkward silence, as Dreads tried desperately not to check her out, and Zanath simply stared at him coldly. Eventually, Dreads sighed.
“This… this is stupid. I need to talk to you.”
“Oh?” She asked, “Of what?”
Dreads stood up, stretching his arms, and running a hand through his hair, the dreadlocks as messy and meticulous as ever.
“It’s… complicated.”
“You wished to speak of it,” She pointed out, annoyed, “So speak.”
Dreads couldn’t help but growl his frustration, and he stood up.
“Fine! Fine, I’ll get to it, I’ll try.”
He ran his hand through his dreadlocks again with a sigh.
“You remember the first we met,” He began slowly, “You and I didn’t get off on the right foot. I was interrupting you, and I couldn’t really speak-“
Zanath raised a brow. Clearly she remembered, but she wasn’t saying anything. Dreads swallowed heavily. This was not going as smoothly as he’d hoped.
“Then I was off on my hunt and…”
“Mhmm. Congratulations, you took down a petty thief,” She said drily, “Are you getting to the point yet?”
Dreads felt a muscle in his cheek twitch.
“I’m trying to.”
“No, you are stalling,” Zanath replied, “I am wondering if you will ever get to the point before we die of old age.”
Dreads snapped, grabbing Zanath’s shoulders and shoving her against the wall. She didn’t even seem slightly phased, though her gaze did narrow.
“I was gone for a little over a month!” He snapped angrily, “I met you for less than ten minutes! And I couldn’t get you the fuck out of my head!”
At that, her eyes did widen, though only slightly.
“You were always there! Fucking with my dreams, messing with my exercises. Hell, I got this freaking cut because you popped up in my head!”
“You would blame me for your incompetence?” She demanded. Dreads growled at her again. Idly, his mind noted that he’d been doing that a lot.
“I’m not lying! I’ve come to hate you! A month, and I couldn’t stand the thought of you! Because every time I thought of you, something went wrong! I fucked something up somehow!”
His fist crashed against the wall next to her face and, for the first time, he saw her flinch.
“Spirits, I hated the thought of you so much…”
His face fell, and he let his head hang.
“I was going to confront you, get these fucking thoughts of you out of my head, once and for all. But now that you’re here…”
His every breath was filled with her scent. It was hard to concentrate with her smell in his nostrils, clouding the majority of his senses.
I should have just stayed the fuck on the bed… fuck I’m such an idiot… Spirits she smells good
“You cannot keep your eyes off me,” Zanath replied. Dreads didn’t see the little smile on her face.
“I can barely keep my hands away,” He growled, sniffing deeply of her scent, his nose at her shoulder, “And it’s driving me completely insane.”
“Do tell,” She practically purred, now smiling a little more.
“You’re always in my head,” He grunted, “You, your fucking body, you stubborn, blunt, fucking beautiful enchantress… The mare I can never have.”
“Indeed, your mentor’s sister,” She teased huskily, one hand on the arm still holding her shoulder, the other now on his clothed chest, “And daughter of the Matriarch.”
“An Enchantress,” he growled, “Far above a mere warrior like me, and an outsider at that.”
“A descendent,” She reminded him, “Not an outsider. A lost member of our tribe, not an outsider.”
“Doesn’t make much of a difference does it,” He snarled lustily, nipping at air above her bare shoulder, barely holding himself back, “Fuck, I want you so badly…”
“Then why not take me?” She asked, “I am at your mercy, yet you do not make a move?”
Dreads really wanted to. Spirits knew he wanted to. It was taking him everything he could muster just to hold himself back from claiming her as his right then and there, stopping himself sinking his teeth into the mare before him, trapped between himself and the wall. He wanted to tear her clothing off of her form, and claim her body for his own.
“Spirits knows I want to…” He managed to say out loud. With an inhuman strength he didn’t know he had, Dreads pushed himself away from her via the wall, falling back then upon his bed with a shaky sigh.
“But I can’t. Zubari’d kill me, and I can only imagine the punishment I’d face… I’m not… I’m just a warrior. I don’t deserve…”
A wave of force damn near knocked him off his bed, and his back hit the mattress with significant force. The breath in his lungs was knocked out of him in a ‘woosh’. Before he could sit back up, he felt a weight upon him and, looking up, saw Zanath straddling his waist, a frown on her face.
“Don’t you dare tell me who I can, or cannot, share my time with,” she grumbled at him, ignoring his wide eyes. His hands found her thighs, the only thing he’d dare really touch, and he swallowed.
“W-what are you doing?” He asked nervously. Zanath smirked down at him, pressing her hands into his chest, to hold him down perhaps? He wasn’t sure, though he knew she wasn’t nearly as physically strong as him so…
“I cannot see how you can misunderstand my intentions,” She purred, sliding her hands under his singlet to get a more personal feel of his coat, “I thought I was being rather clear in my intentions.”
“well.. but…”
“You would assume to tell me what to do?” She demanded, her eyes sparking mischievously. Dreads swallowed nervously.
“I… no?” he responded fearfully. She grinned at him.
“Good. Because, for now, you are mine, and I will do with you what I want.”
Dreads felt a thrill shoot through him at that proclamation, and he shivered under her at her touch. His hands moved tentatively up to her hips. She smiled at him, grinding against him a little to tease him, before leaning down. Her chest pressed against his as she leaned forward to kiss his shoulder, up to his neck, and then to his jaw. He groaned, hands sliding up from her hips, feeling her out. Her hips to her waist, waist to her armpits. From there, he relocated his arms entirely, resting them on her shoulders, and gliding his hands down her smooth arms, and then back to her hips. She sighed a little, but otherwise seemed unaffected as she kept teasing him, placing strategic nibbles and licks at his shoulders, throat and face, occasionally playing with his ears as well.
It was driving him crazy, and he knew she knew it. Though, it was at the back of his mind as she bit a particularly sensitive spot on his neck and he groaned.
Fuck… dammit… Fuck this
His hands locked around Zanath’s back and, with a show of strength, he flipped the both of them over, Zanath yelping in surprise as, suddenly, she was on the bottom, and Dreads on his knees at hers. And he didn’t waste any time pressing his advantage. He darted forward, latching his teeth on her shoulder, holding her hands above her head with one of his larger hands. She cried out as his teeth bit into her shoulder with enough strength to bruise her, and his remaining hand went to her left breast, squeezing it eagerly over the fabric. Now it was her turn to moan, and Dreads smiled around her shoulder. He sucked on the bruise he’d already formed, then pulled back, relishing the red mark he’d left on her shoulder, and the red face she already had, though he’d guess he does as well. Even so.
“Not if I claim you first, My enchantress.”
He leaned down again, but this time, it was to push her top up, to expose her chest to him, despite her spat of pushing at his hand. Now, he latched his lips around one of her nipples, and suckled violently. Another groan from her, this time her legs tried to push him off. His spare hand, however, foiled the attempt, pushing one aside, as he moved around the other. Now her legs were locked around his waist and he grinned down at her, panting. His dreads, longer now than they were a few years back, fell far enough to brush against her chest.
“And it sounds like you wouldn’t mind either way.”
“You are an asshole,” She growled at him with a mean grin.
“You fuckin’ love it,” He growled back, with a wicked grin of his own. He leaned down again to try and catch her mouth, when she slipped a hand free, grabbed one ear and tugged. With a pained grunt, he tried not to move, but it was too easy to lose balance. His weight shifted and Zanath used it to her advantage, spinning him onto the mattress and sinking her teeth into him this time, biting the hollow where the shoulder met the neck. He hissed in painful pleasure, a hand on the back of her head, egging her on, and another now on the underside of her corresponding thigh. They hadn’t even gotten everything off yet, and Dreads was hot. He could feel sweat on his brow, and he could feel it on her as well.
F-fuck…
He felt her suckle upon his neck, just like he’d done to her, and he groaned, his hand tangling in her hair as he yanked her back. Strings of saliva fell as she hissed, her mouth leaving his flesh. He yanked her hair back, which pulled her back, as he sat up, his abdominal muscles rippling, as he came level with her. He let go of her hair, both hands now falling to her hips, and buried his head in her chest. He slathered her breasts with attention, kisses and licks, the occasional nibble or bite. He found a nipple and latched onto it with his teeth, drawing a gasp from his lover. He felt her hands, now upon his head, pressing him against her. His hands pushed their way under her skirt, and wasted no time in squeezing her delicious rump.
“A-ahhnn… Mmf…”
He smiled at the noises she was making. It was perhaps the most musical sound he’d ever heard. He felt himself finally, pressing against his pants, and he licked his lips against her chest. Her hands left his head, and he felt them tugging on his singlet now. He growled in protest, pulling her rump tighter against him. He didn’t want to let go. She gasped again as he bit her other nipple, and forcefully pulled the shirt from his body, cutting off his grip to her breast, and let it hang upon his arms, her fingernails raking his back.
“Nngh… Zanath…” He grunted.
He felt her hands moving down his body, pressing against his upper body muscles, down to his abdominals, where she pressed and caressed gently at them, then at his jeans, fiddling with the button.
“Mmf… I can feel you,” She purred hungrily, as his attention widened from her chest to her collar bone, to her throat, “Show me, give yourself to me, little soldier.”
“I’m not so small, enchantress,” He growled throatily, feeling the button come loose at his waist, “That I give up so easily.”
He squeezed her rump once more for good measure, before spinning her around onto the mattress, once again in the dominant position. She tugged at his jeans, and he didn’t hesitate to help her, kicking them off, along with his underwear. His singlet left too. She smiled, one hand now caressing the new player in their little fight for dominance. And he was big. It was relieving really. He wasn’t compensating.
“Mmph… you do not disappoint, Dreads,” She purred. He grunted in response, gripping her skirt.
“Fair’s fair,” He growled, his grip tightening around the hem. In his lust filled haze, he didn’t take it off. Instead, he yanked at it. Her hips raised and she yelped. With the sudden sound of ripping fabric, it was torn from her body, finally leaving her completely exposed to the young zebra warrior. She was already aroused. The smell hit him like a jackhammer, and he groaned, vocalising his lust as he ground his shaft against her slick entrance.
“Somezebra is eager,” She panted. Her face was reddened, and sweat was slathered into her coat. It was fucking sexy.
“I told you before,” he growled, “I want you… so fucking badly.”
“Then don’t keep me waiting,” came her smoldering reply, and he had to stop himself from simply trying to bulrush his way in right there, only the faintest notes of his brain reminding him that he’d hurt her holding him back as he pulled back, then pushed forward again. He missed, sliding over her sex, his medial ring nudging her clit. She squealed, music to his ears, but he pulled back again, trying once more. And again, he missed. His third attempt held true, and he felt her envelop him. It wasn’t something he’d felt before.
But it was fucking amazing.
A long, low groan rolled out of his throat, and his eyes squeezed themselves shut, even as he listened to the gasp, and matching moan of his partner. He paused, trying to acclimatise himself to her, but found it impossible. Every time he thought he’d got it, it was better. He pulled back, and pushed again, getting a little deeper, much to his ecstatic delight, and her obvious pleasure. Again and again, he pushed himself in further, till he felt her envelop him entirely and, hands on the bed on either side of her head, he panted, chest heaving. Her face was bright red, as he imagined his was as well. Her hands were on his back, holding him to her tightly. He could feel her breasts against his chest, her stomach at his. Skin on skin, sweat mingling, he leaned down, and lavished her neck with kisses and licks, occasionally nibbling once more. She gasped as he hit a sensitive spot, but when he paused again, she looked at him, a little concerned.
“What is it?” she panted, curiously. Dreads hesitated visibly before answering.
“I’ve… never done this before,” He admitted, his deep voice embarrassed. Zanath’s brows raised.
“Truly?” She asked. He nodded. “Then how did… it did not seem like your first time before.”
“I was mostly going off of instinct,” he growled, “I just… I got caught up in the moment and-“
She cut him off with a finger and grinned.
“Then do not stop now,” came her lust filled reply, “Instinct serves you well, it would seem.”
“What if I hurt you though..?” he asked hesitantly. She frowned at him, then smiled cheekily.
“Has it stopped us yet?”
He looked at the bright red mark on her throat, then grinned. If she wanted instinct, so be it. He pulled back, and thrust back in slowly, experimenting. He grunted as he went back in, sliding in smoothly, deliciously.
Oh, I could get used to this.
Steadily, as he continued, he got faster, grunting some times, gasping others, as a different angle offered a new feeling, and he relished in the little whimpers and gasps he coaxed from his lover, the forbidden fruit of the Shadow Stripes tribe.
But as he continued, things started getting out of hand. The lust filled haze he’d been within whilst she pushed and prodded him further was returning, and his thoughts were becoming less and less his own, and more of his instinctive need to breed the mare he had beneath him, to make her his mare, his property.
He gave in, and with a feral growl, his pounding hips became more erratic, faster. Underneath him, Zanath grasped him tightly, her fingernails digging into his skin, then through it. Around his shoulder blades, ten symmetrical crescents began to bleed around her fingertips. It seemed to fuel him to further heights, as he grunted in mixed pain and pleasure. One of his hands found her throat, and his grasp tightened. Her airways restricted, her gasps became ragged pants as she fought for breath. Subconsciously, she noted how he hadn’t began to totally strangle her.
Suddenly, he was gone, and the feeling of being filled took the place of emptiness. It didn’t last long. His hand came away from her throat, and she was flipped. Her arms were torn from his now bleeding back and she landed on her chest, the wind rushing out of her. His hands were suddenly dragging her hips up, and she felt him re-enter almost violently. A gasp would have come out, had she any breath, but all she could do was grasp at air as he returned to his furious tempo. His animalistic growls and grunts did little to help her hang on to whatever sanity she had left, and she could feel her climax building.
S-Spirits… Such s-stamina!
His hand snaked around her chest and found her left breast, and suddenly he was pulling her up. Belly to back, he continued fucking her, now groping her roughly as well and, before she could protest, she felt his teeth sinking into her shoulder again and she screamed, hitting peak and going rigid. He, however, did not stop. Didn’t give her time to ride it out. He kept right on going for almost another minute, dragging the beleaguered Zanath along for the ride. His teeth left her shoulder, another mark to add to her night, and a particularly strong thrust saw her fall, and again he slipped out of her. But once again, before she could recover, he was at her again, this time picking her up bodily, and pressing her against the wall. Her legs hooked around his waist tiredly as he renewed his assault. She buried her face in his shoulder as her overstimulated sex was assaulted, her mind overwhelmed again as she hit orgasm once more, and this time brought him with her. Her legs locked around his waist as he snarled in ecstasy, and emptied himself in her, and her fingernails found the holes they’d already dug in his back once again, and his bleeding began anew. Electric shocks travelled up the sex crazed Dreads as he claimed her, his mare, for his own, marking her with his essence, painting her insides white. As he came down from his lust filled high, he didn’t feel the pain of his wounds. He only saw the heavily panting face of Zanath, and felt the euphoria that came from his afterglow. Slowly, gently, he lay Zanath down upon his bed. Gratefully, she curled a little, grasping weakly for covers as he joined her.
“I hereby claim you, Zanath,” he purred into her ear, covering the both of them and holding her to him, resting his muzzle by her ear, “As mine, and mine alone.”
The only reply he got was a quiet whimper, before exhaustion hit him like a tonne of bricks and, in what seemed like an instant, he was asleep.
~*~
It was early morning when Zanath woke up, sore and naked, upon the bed of the newest shadow hunter of her tribe. Her legs quivered, and she wasn’t even standing yet. She felt his arm around her waist and smiled a little to herself. She hadn’t met a zebra with so much fight in a long time. Not that she bedded every zebra she met. Far from it.
In any case, she idly remembered he’d torn her skirt and grimaced. Hopefully, there wasn’t anyone up yet. She slipped out of his bed, surrogating a pillow for herself as Dreads stirred tiredly. A look at his back made her smirk. Thin rivulets of blood had run down his back during their session. It was nice to see she hadn’t lost her touch. With a soft sigh, she lay her hands upon his back, and willed her magic into being. The wounds closed quickly, and with a cursory swipe of her hand, the blood stains vanished, his coat as pristine as it was upon her entering. With a grimace, she realised she’d have to redress him to pull off her little deception. With a foul look at the clothes on the floor, she decided not to do so the hard way, and simply redressed him with magic instead.
After a quick reminder from her memory, she also healed the bruises she’d left from her teeth. Those’d be a dead give away as well. With a gentle sigh, she let a finger stroke his face slowly.
“When you are a little older,” She whispered to herself, and him, “And you have made a name for yourself…”
With that, she smiled and stood up, pulling her top, which was still around her chest, under her armpits, back over her ample bosom and retrieved the sad remains of her skirt. Sourly, she mentally berated herself for not learning a repair spell for fabrics. It meant she had to steal across the camp without being seen. Well, nothing ventured nothing gained, right?
With a final look at her one-night lover, she left his quarters to sneak back to her own, stealthy as a shadow.
~*~
With a start, Dreads woke up, his eyes shooting open. He blinked a few times, and looked down at the pillow he was holding tightly to himself. His legs hurt, but…
“Fuck… another dream,” He sighed, “This is getting fucking ridiculous.”
His shoulders fell and he sighed again.
“Today’s going to be a long day… again.”
Family issues (OCXOC, no full on intercourse)
The Crystal Empire. Home of the Princess of Love, and known as the most peaceful empire on Equus. Also known as the city state with the strongest cavalry unit on Equus. The Crystal Knights were the heaviest armed, the heaviest armoured, and you better believe the strongest asset of the Crystal Empire. Knights were born into the core, and followed a strict code of honour, chivalry and respect. They went through a decade and a half of training, and then five more years of Squiring services, before being knighted themselves. All of the Noble caste had something to do with the Crystal Knight core, and it was said they were incorruptible.
And, unlike other military corps, the Crystal Knights allow female members.
"We can't do this anymore..."
A common past time, and entertainment for the masses, was the dangerous, and incredibly violent sport of Jousting. To this end, The Empire had a massive tournament grounds built for tourneys, festivals and market times. Within the grounds was three separate 'locker rooms', which were more like armouries. One for each type of pony, which made for one for each core. Each armoury was separated in terms of gender, and strict rules were in place to prevent the mingling of said genders in the locker rooms.
"Shhhh... Don't ruin this..."
The Crystal Knight armoury was by far the largest, holding the largest contingency of the Empire's army. Only Earth based Crystal Ponies could be Knights, just as only Unicorns could be Shocktroopers, and Pegasi could be Blade Dancers, which made up the smallest contingency of the army, but no less deadly.
"Mmf... damn these straps..."
The heavy armours of the Crystal Knights were held on by a myriad of tough straps made of high density polymers, weaved and fabricated by specialists to be as strong and flexible as possible. The big Pauldrons, however, simply attached via powerful clips that held them secure. Because of this, they were the easiest to remove, aside from the helmets.
All of this made them some of the most feared ponies in the world. Many seemed to believe them super soldiers.
But strip away their armour, and one could see that, just like anypony else, they were simply mortal, capable of dying like anything else. Though taught to push it aside, they were capable of feeling pain. Though trained to peak physical condition, capable of tiring. Though taught to put them aside for the greater good, capable of emotion.
Hate, anger, happiness.
And love.
"There it goes..."
A crash of metal of concrete blasted its way through the self same armoury that had housed hundreds of contestants that day for tournaments as almost twenty kilos of starsteel hit the floor. One knight, now only a short sleeved cotton shirt covering his chest, winced.
"Dammit, what if somepony heard that?"
"Look around," The second knight replied, her voice obviously feminine, "There's nopony here. Nopony but you, and me."
"The squires..." he grunted back, even as he worked the clasps of her own armour, throwing aside the protective mail skirt and sash all knights wore with a much quieter 'clunk', joining her tassets.
"Are at home, I sent them home," She purred, her gauntleted fingers finding their way under his brown shirt and making him shiver at their freezing touch, "I made sure we were all alone here."
"F-for Cadance's sake," he cursed, grabbing her wrists, "At least take your damn gauntlets off."
"Awwww," She teased playfully, slipping one hand out of his grasp of her gauntlet and running it through his azure fur again, "Is the big strong Knight afraid of a little cold?"
A growl as he let go of her hand and other gauntlet (With it crashing to the floor as well) and seizing her waist in a rough grasp answered her quite well. She squealed in surprise, giggling at his sudden affection as he pressed kiss after kiss into her cheek and, as he removed her gorget, throat.
"B-brother!" She complained with a laugh, feeling his own gauntleted hands groping her ass, "That tickles!"
"Mmm, does it?" he smirked in reply, relishing the turn around, "How terrible," he continued between kisses, "I'll have to try harder..."
He pressed a swift kiss to her lips this time, smiling a little as his sister pressed back eagerly, then lifted his hands to work on her arms. The gauntlets were easy to slip out of, as he now demonstrated, and she finished. However, removing the Vambraces, Couters and Rerebraces was significantly more difficult.
"Next time," he suggested, "We do this after we've removed the armour."
"What, you're not getting tired are you?" his sister teased. He snuffed a small laugh.
"Of peeling it off of you?" He asked, "Never. It's just bloody annoying getting the clasps right."
Renault Falchion, the male, was a towering figure of six foot four and a half. By simple necessity, his armour was bulkier to allow for his size, and as such he was used to having larger clasps and switches with which to fiddle with to remove his armour, or he asked his squire to do so for him. It was one of his jobs after all. Tempeste Falchion, his twin sister and fiery knight, slimmer in build and only five foot seven, so naturally so was her armour. As such, it was harder for the bigger stallion's fingers to get to and manipulate the smaller clasps.
"I'm so close to just breaking these right now," Renault growled, fumbling with the clasps. Tempeste smiled knowingly.
"That's because you're a brute, and I'm a butterfly~" She teased, helping him with the clasps on her left first, then her right. Her arms, now bared to the long sleeve shirt she wore to protect herself from the possible chafing effects of her armour. His hands ran up her arms lightly to her bare shoulders, save the straps holding the front of her breastplate to the back. A quick alteration to the clasps at her sides and a lift later, and he'd remedied that, the crash as it hit the floor at his sister's feet, his mouth finding her neck again, his tongue pressing against her skin as she sighed at his touch.
"I don't know how you can take wearing a short sleeve," Tempeste remarked, tugging at the hem of his cotton shirt, "It'd kill me arms."
"Good thing I have tough skin then," he teased back, sliding his hands up and under her shirt, tracing her strong torso from waist to breast. A tug on the collar of his shirt pulled Renault down far enough for Tempeste to kiss him seriously, and drape her arms about his neck happily. He didn't hesitate to kiss her back either, nibbling upon her bottom lip.
"mmf," She grumbled, "Curse your tough skin then Renault. The only thing I'm jealous of."
He grinned, his hands cupping her rear just under her pale blue tail, on the soft fabric of her pants.
"You shouldn't be," came his affectionate reply, "I know lots of ponies who'd give their left arm to have a skin, and a coat, like yours."
Indeed, her purple coat was beautiful and silky to the touch under even his rough palms, and it was a pleasure to feel. She blushed under his praise and, once again, kissed him seriously.
"you're too sweet," She remarked after they separated. He smiled.
"That's not the best part dear sister," He replied, "Your most beautiful quality is, for certain, your eyes~"
Tempeste flushed brighter. Her eyes weren't a proud point for her. A lot of ponies found Heterachromia disquieting, and the combination of one green eye and one sapphire eye made up Tempeste's eyes, unlike her brother's plain green eyes.
"Now you're making fun of me," She accused of him, making him laugh, and pull a hand out from beneath her shirt and brush her short cut blue hair to one side.
"I'm being absolutely honest, my beautiful, amazing sister."
She giggled, and pressed her face into his chest. He hugged her in return, squeezing her tightly to him.
A clatter from nearby spooked the both of them, and they broke apart hurriedly. The quiet sound of music lilted through the empty space and Renault frowned.
"Merde..." He swore, pushing her back and turning quickly, "Quickly, help me out."
Tempeste took barely a moment to catch on, and started undoing the straps that secured his Cuisse to his leg.
"Honestly," She started speaking, perhaps a little too loudly, "You're too nice to your squire brother. If you can't even take off your own armour without him..."
Which was when the janitor that kept the place clean came into the room, small set of speakers on his trolley. He caught Renault and Tempeste's eye instantly.
"My lord?" he asked, surprised, then started, "My lord and lady! My apology, I didn't know you were here still!"
Tempeste snorted and Renault flushed, for completely different reasons to each other.
"It's alright," Tempeste replied, "My idiot brother sent his squire home early, and forgot he sucked at getting his armour off. So I'm helping him, but he's going to put his armour away himself."
The janitor chuckled softly, Renault's face growing redder at her scolding. Truth was, he couldn't get his clasps unlocked, which was why he was so reliant on his squires to begin with, and her telling, of all ponies, a janitor about that didn't help his public image.
"Don't worry m'lord," The janitor told the beleaguered Knight jovially, "I won't tell nopony nuthin'. I could barely tie my own shoes without my wife."
"Thank you sir," Renault replied awkwardly as the second Cuisse fell to the floor, "I appreciate your silence."
The janitor waved, then left, giving them time and privacy.
"We need to leave," Renault said immediately. Tempeste could only agree with him.
"Agreed. Armour off, clothing on, back home."
