Lust

"I CAN'T DO IT!"

I scream and yank my head away from her for a second time. I tuck my head into my breast and wrap my hooves about myself, curling into a ball. Tears of shame leak from my eyes.

I failed her again.

I barely hear Fluttershy cry out my name. A pair of hooves comes to embrace me tightly, but I pay it no heed. I hear nothing but my choked breaths, I feel nothing but pain deep in my gut, and I see nothing but my unquestionable catastrophe at trying being a good marefriend playing back in my mind over and over again.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whisper over and over, as if my words could fix anything. It's all that can escape my pitiful mouth. I can't even do something as simple as accept pleasure from my marefriend. Why can't we just enjoy sex together like any normal couple would?

The question doesn't even need answering: it's my fault. It's all my fault. I'm holding her back from the pleasure she wants.

I don't know what Fluttershy is doing, but she proceeds to wrap her wings around me tightly and rock me gently with her hooves, like she would a baby foal. I uncurl just enough to clutch a wing with my hooves and weep into it. It's a tiny source of comfort, pitiful as it is, and underserving as I am of it.

Her head is right by my ear, and she's whispering things to me in that soft voice of hers. I don’t understand what she's saying to me, but I catch a few things here and there: "Rarity . . . Love you . . . Just cry . . . Let it out," is all I hear. All the while, she keeps embracing me and rocking me back and forth while I continue to release my sobs and my makeup and my hitching breaths into her wing, unaware and uncaring of everything except my tears and her words.

I don't know for how long I wept, but Fluttershy, bless her heart, stayed with me the entire time. Not needily, not impatiently, she just stayed, letting me loose my burning shame into her. And she never stopped whispering those sweet words into my ear.

Eventually, my tears stop and my babbling slows. I know my face is a mess, and I keep my face buried in her wing. "I'm s-sorry," I say one last time, muffled by Fluttershy's down.

"It's okay," she says back, as I think she's been doing the entire time. She runs her hoof through my mane in long strokes, gently working out the knots in it. Her face is against my shoulder, and she's nuzzling it gently, but not coaxing my head up or forcing me into anything. She's pampering and hugging me like my mother would.

She releases her hooves and wings for a moment. I turn around, now facing her and looking down at her body sitting on the bed. She no longer hugging me, but she stays close with her hooves at my sides, seemingly ready to capture me in another hug should I need it.

"Now, are you feeling better?" I hear her ask me, worry in her voice.

I keep my head down, refusing to look at her face-to-face. I know what I'm hearing in her voice, but I'm afraid that I'll find more in her eyes. Disappointment, betrayal, veiled anger? Lust that still needs to be satisfied? "Um . . . a little," I mumble, shuffling my forehooves a little bit. I miss her hugging already.

"Can you tell me why you got so upset?" she asks next.

I tense up and bite my lip. It's clear in my mind what the reason is. But I promised myself that I wouldn’t tell it to her. I promised that I would maintain the illusion for her. She doesn't have to know that I'm not attracted to her. A pained expression grows on my face, I clench my eyes shut, and I shake my head from side to side almost imperceptibly.

Next thing I know, Fluttershy's hooves are around me again. "Please, Rarity," she pleads into my shoulder, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice, "I hate seeing you like this. I love you, and it tears me apart inside when I know something is making you unhappy. It hurts a lot. I just want to know what's bothering you so we can be happy again." She kisses me on the cheek. "If you don't want tell me, that's okay. Just . . . promise me it's nothing serious."

"A-ah . . ." An involuntary sound escapes my throat as I realize the horrible mistake I've made. I return the hug, falling into her forehooves once again. What a fool I have been. In trying to insulate Fluttershy from my own problems, I've only caused her more pain and more worry. And that is perhaps my biggest failure: Fluttershy is not happy. Neither of us are.

I sigh. I don't know what will happen when I tell her the truth. I don't know how she'll react. But I know that continuing this charade won't help matters. It never did. I nod into Fluttershy shoulder and nudge her away so that we can talk. I decide to tell her the things that I should have told her from the very start.

"What's wrong, Rarity?" Fluttershy prompts.

"I've . . . I've been lying to you," I confess, "about . . . about wanting to have sex with you." There's no gasp or growl or any other outward hint that Fluttershy hear what I said. But I know she did, and I keep my eyes down, away from hers, afraid. "I'm so, so sorry."

I feel a hoof on my shoulders. Another lands on my face, but it doesn't feel like a strike. More a . . . a tender caress. She doesn't seem that angry. I gather the courage to look up and meet Fluttershy's eyes.

They're not filled with disappointment or anger like I thought they'd be; they're overflowing with that same worry I've been hearing all this time. Not judgmental, not accosting, they're the eyes of a caretaker who wants nothing more than for her charges to feel better. No animosity, no distrust; all that's left is a distilled concern for me. A very small amount of my tension leaves the room.

"Why did you lie?" she asks gently, calmly.

I sigh. "Because I couldn't break your illusion. Fluttershy . . ." I pause. "Do you know the difference between romantic and sexual love?"

The brief flash of confusion that crosses her face is all I need for an answer. I continue.

"Romantically, sweetheart, I love you. I love your personality, your kisses, your hobbies; you have thoroughly captured my heart. Never forget that. In that aspect, I am not straight anymore. But sexually . . . nothing has changed. I have told you that I am heterosexual, and that is still the case. I am still attracted to males . . . exclusively."

"You . . . you don't find mares attractive. You don't find me attractive," Fluttershy says. A hint of sadness has entered her voice.

"Ngh . . . No, I don't, and I'm sorry," I concede guiltily. "I couldn't stand looking at your, guh . . ." I stop and gesture feebly at Fluttershy's lower body. I can't even look at it anymore, and another pang of guilt attacks me as I realize that she may never have it satisfied properly by her marefriend.

"When I do, it just feels wrong to me," I continue. "Every time I looked, I couldn't help but imagine how different it would be with a stallion. I don't see sex with you as appealing, but I know you do with me. I tried to do it, sweetheart; I tried so hard. But . . ." Moisture gathers in my eyes again. ". . . I can't. And for that, I am so, so sorry." I hang my head.

Fluttershy remains silent for a long time, and I look back up cautiously. For some reason, the sadness is gone from her face, replaced with what I can best describe as "horror." Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is open. I hear a half-mouthed-half-whispered "what?" escape her lips. Moments, later, however, her mouth closes and her eyes contract. Her brow furrows into a sharp "V," and her lip curls downward.

Oh no, she's angry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Fluttershy! Little as I know it will do, I open my mouth to apologize again for my awful—

"—I'm sorry, too."

My words die on my mouth as Fluttershy takes my line. I blink, a flash of confusion crossing my face. "Fluttershy, you have no reason to be sorry."

"I do. I should have known that you didn’t like doing this. I noticed that you were getting tense, but I didn't want to stop because I was too . . . excited." That should have been a happy word, but Fluttershy spat it out like a leaf of poison oak, guilt and disappointment—at herself?—written on her face.

I shake my head. "No, Fluttershy, it's not your fault. You had every reason to get excited over me. I purposefully chose my wardrobe so you would be excited. I wanted to please you! Little did I know your night would end up . . ." I gesture to us: the dark eyeliner that is surely drawing lines down my cheeks now, the abused wing in which I loosed my guilt, the stained and smelly sheets which tell the story of a night in which no real pleasure was had. ". . . like this."

For some reason, my words seem to do nothing to ease her. Fluttershy shakes her head with a frown before dropping the scowl on her face and looking back up. "Rarity?" she asks.

"Yes?"

"I know that you're generous, and I know you want to make me happy, but please—" Fluttershy leans forward and puts her hooves on my face, earnestness in her eyes "—tell me what would make you happy. Was there any part of this that you liked at all? I don't want our first night together to end like this."

I shake my head again vehemently. "No, Fluttershy, please don't worry about me. This was supposed to be your night—"

"No," she says firmly. "This was supposed to be our night. Please don't sacrifice yourself for my sake. I won't have it. Not now, not ever." Her gaze is fixed on me, her eyes solemn. "Let me take care of you, now. Please, what would make you happy?"

I pause. Even after she was left unsatisfied, even after I failed her twice, even after I confessed our fundamental incompatibility, Fluttershy still wants to take care of me? "I . . . I don't understand," I croak. "I failed, Fluttershy. Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're hurting. Because you hurt yourself to try to please me. And I hate seeing you in pain." She kisses me on the cheek. "You already tried so hard for me. You said so yourself." She kisses me again. "So let me try for you. What would make you happy?"

I find myself looking into Fluttershy's eyes. Whatever lust is left there is now nothing but a smolder. Lust, one of the most powerful forces in Equestria, and Fluttershy beat it back for my sake. For my happiness. Only she would be able to do that. She actually makes me want to try even harder to find a way to satisfy her, if only to give such a noble and compassionate mare what she rightfully deserves. How did I ever come to deserve such a mare?

Backed into a retreat, I can do nothing but attempt to answer her question. I turn my mind inwards. For this entire time, I've actually not given any thought to what I enjoy. I've only thought about what would please Fluttershy. "I . . . I liked the cuddling," I say quietly. "Before we got into any of the sex? The hugging, the kissing. That was good."

Fluttershy nods and brings me into another hug before collapsing down to lay on the bed, bringing me with her. She clutches me close and nuzzles her cheek into mine. Bringing her muzzle up to my ear, she whispers, "Then that's what we'll do."

"But, sweetheart," I protest, "you're not content with this. You want more, don't you?"

"No, Rarity, I really don't need—" She stops abruptly and pauses for a moment. Shaking her head, she sighs and says instead, "Yes, I do want more." Fluttershy pushes her hooves against my chest so we look at each other face to face. I see sadness, worry, contentment, and some latent lust in her eyes. But occluding all of that, I see steel resolve. "But I will be fine. Your happiness is more important," she says firmly, no quaver or unsureness in her voice.

"But, no . . . I need to . . ." I stop. Because I know I can't. Fluttershy is offering to try instead. And she's telling me that I don't need to try. And that she'll be okay with it.

I need to be the one give to her what she wants. But maybe . . . just this once . . .

"O-okay," I whisper, surrendering to Fluttershy's infinite kindness.

She draws me in again and brings her wings around to wrap me as well, like she's protecting a baby bird from harm. In all directions, my sight is obscured by a haze of yellow. And from all directions, every part of Fluttershy's body radiates love and concern for me. With a sensation that I actually enjoy, and with no pressure from myself or others to do anything disgusting or unappealing, for the first time tonight, I feel warm.

Slowly and gently, Fluttershy starts to massage my back with her hooves again, working out the numerous knots that have again formed there even in the short time since she did it last. Sighing in comfort, I let her do her work. I dig my nose into her chest, feeling her unnaturally soft and well-maintained coat and taking in that ever-present and ever-soothing scent of pine needles that I've been missing for quite a time. She smells nice again.

All the while, she peppers gentle kisses on my forehead, my horn, and my cheek. I do my best to reciprocate, taking my muzzle out of Fluttershy's chest fur and looking up to Fluttershy's face. She looks down at me and slowly moves her lips closer to mine. We meet halfway in a slow and affectionate kiss. Unlike before, she's moving slower now, only pushing at my tongue or exploring my mouth when I do it first.

Eventually, after many minutes, Fluttershy finishes her massage, but unlike the first time, her hooves migrate no lower. One stays on my back to keep me close to her breast, and the other cradles my head gently from below. She whispers to me, "I know you want to bring me pleasure, but please don’t hurt yourself to do it. You mean too much to me."

With a sigh, I wriggle up to Fluttershy's voice so that we are level with each other. I say quietly, "This was supposed to be a night of happiness. I'm just . . . disappointed in myself that I couldn't make that happen for you."

Fluttershy shakes her head a little before bringing a hoof behind my head and guiding it to her lips for a gentle kiss. When we separate, she says, "You make me happy every day by just being with me."

I nod slowly. "I just wish I wasn't so . . . unable to please you. You are beautiful, and you deserve a mare that is more willing and able to give you pleasure." And this evening has made it abundantly clear that I can't be that mare. I look down, averting my eyes from Fluttershy. "You deserve somepony who can do that. You deserve somepony better than me."

Fluttershy's hoof coaxes my head back up. Reluctantly, I do so. The expression on her face is . . . not quite angry, but severe. My eyes are drawn to hers; they flash with intent, and they contain a fierce burning fire within. They're almost hypnotizing in their depths. I'm not unwilling to look away from her; I'm utterly unable to. I can't even blink. She's captured my complete attention, and she won't release it until I hear what she has to say. Her tone of voice is one that I've never heard directed at me before: commanding.

"Don't say that, Rarity; don't you ever say that again. I've loved you at a distance for years. I don't care what problems we may have. There is nopony out there whom I would be happier with than you." Her eyes are unblinking, and they drill into me until her words can come behind them and make their way to the deepest recesses of my mind.

I can do nothing but nod dumbly. Fluttershy closes her eyes and furrows her brow a little. The spell broken, finally, I'm able to take my eyes away from her, and I release the breath I didn't know I was holding. The exchange must not have lasted more than a few seconds, but it felt far longer to me.

When I look back to her, her eyes are back to their soft, compassionate appearance. There's not a hint on her face that she reprimanded me mere seconds before. In a weak and small voice, I say, "O-okay."

"Good," she says softly back. A small smile has grown on her face. She starts rubbing my back. "Please don't be scared of me; I just wanted you to know." She licks my face tenderly.

I nod again and draw a little closer to Fluttershy's body. I don't think that I could ever be able to fear her, but she can be incredibly . . . convincing when she wants to. "I know now," I say, and a small smile of my own grows on my face.

Fluttershy continues to lick, and I realize that she's probably cleaning my face of eyeliner tracks and makeup stains from my previous breakdown. When she's finished, she nuzzles my face affectionately to dry it of her saliva. She retreats for just long enough to find my lips and give them another soft kiss. I open my mouth and let her in, but she doesn't immediately dive in and explore my mouth. She advances slowly and only goes as far as my tongue. She pushes gently against it, and I push back.

We separate again. She pats her chest a few times and invites me to rest my head on it. When I do, she covers my body with a warm wing and strokes a hoof through my mane. I didn't think that Fluttershy would ever be the one to take charge in the bedroom, but it seems that when I show weakness, her maternal side reveals itself to take care of me. Fluttershy can be very assertive when she wants to—especially so when her marefriend gives her a reason to be as such.

I look up. She looks down and smiles warmly at me, beaming down like a pleasant ray of sunshine. Again, I am taken by her smile, but this time, I know that there's something else that she is hiding from me; it’s not on her breath, or otherwise immediately obvious, but I know that sex is still in her mind. Her lust is sleeping right now, but it’s still very much there. My guilt is coming back.

"Thank you, sweetheart," I say slowly.

"You're welcome," she replies, brushing a forelock out of my face.

"But . . ." I bite my lip. "There is something more that I want, something even more than this."

"What is it?" she asks quietly.

"I . . . I want to make love with you." They're exactly the same words that Fluttershy spoke to me some hours ago, but they mean something entirely different. "I know that you still want more, sweetheart, and I want to give it to you. I want to give it to you so badly." My voice is pleading, almost desperate: desperate for a solution that just doesn't exist. "I want to be comfortable with you in every way, romantically and sexually. I want for us to consummate like we should be able to: for you to be able to give me pleasure, and for me to be able to bring you the joy you bring me every day." I sigh, letting out the hopes that I never had. "But I just don't see how," I finish despondently.

Fluttershy shakes her head and continues to smile down on me. Even without words, her smile tells me that all is well. I breathe in contentment and snuggle into her wing. How I wished this morning that I could fall asleep under her wing; tonight, I may just get that wish. Before I close my eyes, however, I look up one last time.

Fluttershy's not looking at me anymore; she's looking off to the side, a contemplative look on her face. As I'm about to ask what she's doing, she turns back to me and smiles again. The words die on my lips.

"Maybe we can," she says.