Lust

I blink slowly. Several times.

Strange. Last I remember, I was having a delightful time with Fluttershy in the restaurant, yet now I'm in Fluttershy's cottage. She's staring at me expectantly, like she wants me to answer her something, but I don't recall her asking me anything.

"Er, what was that, darling?"

Fluttershy shuffles around a bit, swallows, then says, "I said, I want to make love with you."

I blink slowly. Several times.

Odd. I remember—No. I heard her the first time. My mind just didn't want to admit it; I just need a few moments for it to sink in . . .

Fluttershy wants to have sex with me!? What! Why? This is the first date we've ever had, and she's never asked that of me before! Why is she asking me now? No, no, never, absolutely not!

I shake my head vigorously and step back. Fluttershy is my marefriend though, and my closest companion. Why did I reject that notion so vehemently? Thank goodness I didn't voice those thoughts out loud.

I take a moment to contemplate the situation more rationally. I nigh on swore to her that I would do almost anything for her happiness. But the mere mention of sex instantly gives me cold hooves. Yes, we are close, closer than she or I ever expected that we would be. She loves me very much, I love her back dearly, and I couldn't be happier with this arrangement. I would do almost anything for her happiness. Almost.

I look up to Fluttershy. She's clearly anxious, waiting rather impatiently for my response, her ears swiveled forward for what I have to say. Again, a hind hoof rubs against the other.

"Uh . . . I-I think I need some time to ponder what you just said," my muddled mind passes to my mouth. "Why don’t you make some tea for the both of us, and I answer you then?" I put on a crooked smile.

Fluttershy hesitates, biting her lip, a tense look on her face; it seems she's reluctant to go. She rubs her hind legs together again and says, "Okay, Rarity. But only if you really, really need the time." She looks at me hopefully, but I nod my head vigorously: yes, I really, really need the time. Fluttershy turns around and walks off to the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room with my thoughts.

Once she leaves, I start pacing around the room, my thoughts a whirlwind. Sex is such a big step to take in a relationship, and I never imagined that timid, demure Fluttershy would be the one to ask me that question. I've never given thought to the subject with her before, and for a very good reason: I can't have sex with her.

I can't change the fact that mares don't appeal to me. Is she attractive? Of course she is, but not in a way that stirs my loins. I look to Fluttershy working in the kitchen. Her form is perfect and slender, her mane is long and luxurious, and her coat is nearly as pristine as mine . . . but those are but observations to me. She is indeed all those things, but she doesn't . . . do it for me.

Fluttershy has so many other lovable facets about her that my sexual preference is normally not a problem. We hug, we kiss, and we share a bed just like any normal couple. I've only ever told her of my sexuality a couple of times before because it's never been an important subject. But sex . . . Sex is the physical consummation of the lust that two ponies share between themselves. Mutual physical attraction is nigh a requirement for mutually enjoyable sex. And that's the problem.

I want to have sex with her. But I can't. It's not in my nature. The very idea of having sex with Fluttershy—and I shudder to use this word to describe anything related to her—is revulsive to me. I've read my fair share of books, so I vaguely know how it works. But the mere idea of licking Fluttershy's . . . ugh . . . and grinding our . . . ngh . . . The image—of the act, not Fluttershy, never Fluttershy—just fills me with disgust.

But then . . . She wants it. She needs it. I sniff the air a little. The aroma of earl grey is strong in the air, but even stronger is the telltale scent of female excitement. Even though Fluttershy's still in the kitchen, I can smell it from here. It seems the only reason I didn't detect it back in the restaurant was because I was distracted by the sweet and intoxicating pungency of truffle wafting from her dish. I think back to our date:

"I-I would love to be your wife, too. The lucky wife of such a lovely, pretty, p-perfect goddess. But if you're sure that I'm not moving too fast . . . D-do you think that . . . maybe, after this date, we could, um, go home and—"

"Dinner is served, ladies!"

I'm rather certain that I know now what Fluttershy was trying to tell me. I sigh and trace the same circle around the living room again. I only intended to impress Fluttershy with my wardrobe tonight, not arouse or excite her. But it seems that's exactly what I did. Fluttershy was so taken by my image that she could do nothing but take me home and confess her feelings.

And it's not as if Fluttershy was overly subtle about her desire, either. Her frequent stares, her heaving breathing, her aggressive kissing . . . I observed the signs; I really should have been able to interpret them. But it seems I was too distracted to pay them much heed. Or maybe I thought that Fluttershy was too innocent a pony to express those tells in public.

Or maybe I just didn't want to see them.

Like the day I first found love in Fluttershy, I find myself now with the same problem again: I'm at an impasse between two paths, neither of which I want to take. But I don't have a week to ponder my decision this time; Fluttershy will be finished making the tea very soon. And in any case, I will never put her through the same misery she experienced the first time.

As soon as she finishes brewing the tea, Fluttershy brings her tea set to the living room table. "Thank you," I say quietly. I hold a teacup in my aura, taking a deep breath to breathe in the bouquet of the tea—or to wash my nose of the other pervasive scent in the room. I take several slow, long draughts from my cup. The tea does its work and my mind slows down just a little bit. I put my cup down and observe that Fluttershy's teacup looks untouched. She's also fidgeting rather mightily with an uneasy expression on her face. If I didn't know better, I would have asked Fluttershy if she needed to use the restroom. But I do know better, and I know she doesn't. I finish the rest of my tea quickly; Fluttershy is getting impatient again.

Once I finish, I say carefully, "Sweetheart?"

"Yes?" She says, leaning closer to me eagerly, eyes wide.

I sigh and shake my head. It has to be said. "Fluttershy . . . I love you very much. I would do almost anything for your happiness. You know that, right?" Fluttershy nods attentively. "I . . . want to make you happy, and I know that—" I stifle a cringe at the next word "—s-sex would make you very happy indeed.”

Suddenly, Fluttershy squeals excitedly, the widest grin I’ve seen yet on her face tonight. She scampers around the table and captures my mouth in an eager kiss, moving so quickly that I have no time to react; it feels like being assaulted with pegasus. Fluttershy removes her lips from mine, but only takes a moment’s breath before attacking me again. I would normally be returning the kiss with fervor, but I'm not finished speaking. With what I still must tell her, I can't bring myself to enjoy it much.

Fluttershy separates from me again. "Oh, wonderful!" she says. "Thank you, Rarity. You don't know how—" kiss "—hot . . . you are right now. That tight dress, and your soft saddle, and the b-bridle on your lovely face." She's panting again. It seems that privacy is all that Fluttershy needs to feel comfortable and considerably less timid. "Could we go to the bed, please? I know it's small, but it's soft and nice and warm and I want you so badly." She turns around and starts walking to the stairs.

"Sweetheart, wait," I say. Fluttershy turns around and looks toward me, her ears perked. "While what I said was true . . . um . . ." I pause, feeling quite a bit like my marefriend right now. The words I have to say are hard, but they must be said.

"It's also true that . . . how do I phrase this . . . Y-you know that I've only ever dated stallions in the past, right?"

Fluttershy pauses. She looks confused. "I know, but . . . Rarity, we've been together for so long. I know you were straight before, but then you kissed me. Then you held me. Then you loved me." She walks closer to me, eyes glittering, a world-ending smile on her face. "You've been so good to me. You set up dates for us, you share a bed with me, you give me gifts. You even said we might marry someday!" Somehow, her smile gets even brighter, nearly blinding me with the joy it bleeds.

"And I love you, too," she continues. "I want to hug and kiss you. But I also want to really, really love you. I want to bring you the joy you bring me every day." She steps closer still. Dear Celestia, that smile . . . "You were so sexy in the restaurant, Rarity. I just had to bring you home and show you how much I love you.

"I know that sex is a big step, but you said at the restaurant I couldn't move too fast for you and you were just so sexy and I've waited for so long. If we really love each other so much, why can't we share it like this?" Her smile is a mixture of loving and hopeful.

I step back and purse my lips. That smile is so persuasive; it takes an extraordinary amount of self-control for me not to immediately say "Yes!" to that face. Somehow, the rational part of my mind comes through, and I say instead in a strangled voice, "I-I'm sorry; C-could you give me another moment to think?"

The smile on her face loses its splendor for just long enough for me to notice. "Um . . . okay. Just don't be too long, please," she pleads.

I nod quickly and look away, trying to think properly. I bite my lip. It seems that Fluttershy has confused romantic love with sexual love. Similar as they are, there is a distinction to be made. Romantically, everything she said was true: I do love her very much in that way, and through our time together, our love has only grown stronger.

But sexually, I find her exactly as I always have. Beautiful, yes, attractive, perhaps, but arousing . . . no. I just don't see her in that light, and I have never seen her in that light. I sigh and shake my head.

But then I make the mistake of looking back to Fluttershy. She's still smiling that same blinding smile. She looks so excited, so joyous. Her beauty may not be capable of spellbinding me, but her smile does it effortlessly. I don't want to break the illusion that she's constructed around herself. I can't take her happiness away from her. I know that for my own sake, I need to say "no"; I need to deny Fluttershy the pleasure she wants and wants to give me.

But then I'll be wiping that smile that I love so much from her face.

My gaze is drawn up into her soulful eyes. There are a number of emotions in them, but there's one I see that occludes even her immense happiness, and it's one that I was somehow unable to identify before. Lust. I see that emotion clearly now, and Fluttershy is swimming in it. Almost literally. Trickles of moisture have escaped her panties and the folds of her dress and are now tracing several dark lines down her inner thighs. She grinds her hind legs together again.

Lust is one of the most powerful forces in Equestria. It urges celebrities to scandal. It breaks happy marriages apart. In extreme cases, it pushes ponies to public obscenity, the desire to satisfy their lust so strong. It has afflicted so many ponies, including myself. And it has now thoroughly infected Fluttershy.

It was strong enough to push her to cut our first date short. It was strong enough to give her the courage and audacity to ask a question I didn’t think I would ever hear. And it will be strong enough to coerce her to find her sexual release.

I know her well enough: if I deny Fluttershy her lust now, she will hide her disappointment and say "it's fine," when we both know it's not. She'll be broken over the fact that her marefriend won't play with her, but she'll be silent with regard to the pain she feels. Then, she will find an excuse to retire to her bedroom, and she will . . . masturbate to satisfy herself.

I close my eyes and hide a shudder. Disgust washes over me, stronger still than my feelings of distaste for sex with Fluttershy. It would be absolutely preposterous for her to fulfill her desires in that way when her marefriend is, quite literally, sitting in the next room, too caught up in her own greedy feelings to grant her lover a simple request.

If there was any doubt left in my mind before, it is thoroughly banished now. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I have to try, if only to keep that smile on her face.

I open my eyes and put on a smile of my own, trying not to think about what I've resolved to do. It's forced and too wide, but it does its job as Fluttershy's smile somehow brightens even more and she starts shuffling her hooves on the floor in anticipation. My mouth twitches.

"Of course, Fluttershy."