You aren't sure what it was, exactly, that made you stir in the middle of the night at first. It must be some typical time like three o'clock, because honestly, it's always three o'clock in the morning. Not that there's anything wrong with that: It's enough time for you to have gotten a good bit of rest, and if you just close your eyes, you can get another four or so hours before the sun's up and you're expected to be on the way to work.

Just gotta close your eyes again and go back to sleep; no getting up for a drink, no musing over things that can wait until morning. Just...close your eyes.

Better check the clock first, though.

You reach out to pull the wind-up alarm clock on the end table closer, and freeze. Your foreleg isn't pinned or anything, but there's a solid weight upon it that cannot possibly be your blankets, which are currently pooled about your hind hooves below. It's strange, too, because it's rather cool outside, and the blankets had been quite necessary in getting comfortable enough to even falling asleep...yet you are perfectly warm, and oh dear Celestia there's somepony pressed up behind you in bed.

Your brain races. You're in your bed--Ponyville--so you didn't hit up any large clubs last night; they're all in Canterlot. Ponyville had Berry Punch's establishment; maybe you went there and had a cute colt follow you home? Nothing like that; Berry swore she'd keep you from making any such inebriated decisions, and your thoughts are too lucid to have been drinking anyway.

You realize that in stirring, if not solely by your quickening breath, you've alerted this mysterious bedmate of yours to your consciousness, and a soft chuckle from behind you confirms this. Shuddering in worry, you slowly start to turn your head, at least needing to have the fear of anonymity dispelled.

"No, my dear," rumbles the deepest, smoothest voice this side of Big Macintosh's, just an inch away from your ear. "No turning around just yet..."

At least the sound of his voice alone could have sent you into heat, so you've got that going for you. "Wh...who are..?"

"Come, now," he purrs in your ear again. "You know the pertinent question is, 'what?' As in, what could have drawn me to your bed in the dead of night?"

You start to shake your head. This all seems so impossible, yet the weight of his hoof--you chanced a look down; the leg was an ashen grey against the deep azure of your own coat--and the way his chest pressed against your back, his breath hot against your ear: These sensations didn't lie. This is happening.

He chuckles again, deep and rich and almost vibrating in your head. "You know, most ponies of royal stock might take offense to a question being met with silence."

Your thoughts set to a full gallop once again. Royal stock? There are only two stallions of royal standing you know of: Prince Blueblood, and Prince Shining Armor, neither of whom are the correct color. Disguise isn't out of the question, but the former wouldn't be caught dead in Ponyville by all accounting. Okay, it was mostly Rarity's accounting, but it still held up. That left Prince Shining Armor, and he's not only happily married, but lives all the way up north, in the Crystal Empire.

The Crystal Empire, only recently reclaimed from--

Your breath catches in your throat, and his hoof is close enough to feel your heart hammering as you work out the impossible in your head. "But...but...y-you can't be here, you were...were..."

"Rest assured, I am here, my little pony."

You squeeze your eyes shut. "This...this is a nightmare...it has to be, has to be, I'm going to wake up, oh Luna let me wake up..."

You don't wake up, even as he presses closer, and you feel his lips brush against your ear softly. "Oh? Why must it be a nightmare, little filly? Are nightmares not filled with fear and suffering and pain?" His mouth closes around the ear he's been teasing at for some time, and teeth--fangs!--press in on either side of the sensitive shell. He's going to bite into it, he's going to eat you, the legends always said he ate...why is he suckling on your ear?

"See? Can this not be a dream of pleasure instead?" he chuckles, not quite letting your ear go until his attentions wrest the slightest of moans from your lips, and only then do those razor-sharp fangs drag back through the fur of your now wet and very sensitive ear.

"But...you...they all said...y-you were a mon...a monster..."

"If you truly desire an unpleasant 'dream', I'm sure I can oblige, my dear..."

"N-no, I..." You swallow, and turn quickly and deliberately, affording him no chance to stop you this time.

Inches away in the dark, there he is, in your bed. The Tyrant of the North. King Sombra. His eyes, a vibrant red like blood, seem to glow with their own light. His mane itself can barely be seen unless silhouetted by the moonlight through the window; its inky blackness cascades like silk about his face and withers. Luna help you, he's sexy, you could just--

No! No ogling the evil monarch invading your bedroom! "I don't...are you going to...to hurt me?"

"Not in any of the bad ways," he replies entirely too smoothly, not making this any easier for you.

You close your eyes. "If...if I ask you to leave me be...will you?"

"Certainly," he says. Your eyes shoot open. "I know when I'm not wanted in somepony's bed," he adds with a smirk. "And I know this isn't one of those times."

"What makes you so sure?" you ask, surprised at your boldness.

"Because you haven't actually asked me to leave you be."

You open your mouth to speak, and something stops you. Maybe it's the thought that this must still be a dream, just an incredibly vivid one. Maybe your mind is producing all this to help cope with the natural wants that have built up since the last time you had a friendly stallion over. You think of what this says about you if this is real and you're genuinely considering letting the fabled Shadow King sweet-talk you into a night of little sleep and carnal bliss.

You decide you don't care all that much what that says about you.

"Do you want me to leave your bed, and let you get back to sleep?" he asks.

"...n-no."

"I didn't think so."

You start to say something in reply when he's upon you, lips crushing against yours in the most aggressive kiss you've ever taken. His tongue dominates your own, and you can feel his fangs there the whole time--sharp, dangerous--and all it does is turn you on more. The moan which signals your wholesale surrender is almost entirely swallowed by Sombra, and he presses the offensive, rolling atop you as your forelegs wrap around him as best you can. Your eyes are half-lidded and the rest of the way glazed over as you taste him as deeply as he does you, finding yourself lost in his ruby gaze.

Slowly he pulls back, tongue lingering on your lips before licking his own and grinning down at you in the darkness, your own muzzle thoroughly dampened from the kiss.

"I want you to consider something, my eager little mare," he murmurs, stroking a hoof in a slow circle on your chest. "How literal do you think all those tales about me are being when they say that I would eat ponies?"

Your eyes widen again, clear once more. He didn't mean...well, of course he did. You bite your lip as you ponder the many potential meanings of the phrase "carnal appetites", and as he watches the thought come to its conclusion, he begins to sink down, inch by slow inch. Your heart hammers again in your chest, but out of anticipation this time, not terror. He's dangerous, sure, but it's only turning you on more right now.

His breath stirs the thinner, silky coat lower on your belly as he descends, his forehooves nudging your hind legs apart. You know now that this is your last chance to tell him you don't want him to do this, and you gleefully see that chance off on the last train to the frontier with a further parting of your thighs of your own volition.

"Such a forward mare you are," he taunts, his muzzle brushing against your teats as he speaks. "Practically baring yourself for me in such a fashion..."

You count your blessings that he can't see your cheeks burning in the darkness.

"And so enticing when you blush so brightly..."

Crapbaskets.

All modesty is gone the instant his lips make contact with you again, closing about your left teat and suckling until his sharp teeth graze the tender flesh, his eyes meeting yours as he sets your entire body squirming. Your quickened breathing carries a little note of a moan each time you exhale, growing louder as he persists until he lets go of the dampened flesh with a faint, wet pop.

He immediately moves to the other and all but bites it outright--eliciting a sharp squeal from you in the process--before his tongue provides a softer touch once more, pulling until the second nub of now oversensitive flesh is freed, the nipples hardened in the cool air that moves in his wake. You mourn the absence of his lips around your teats, but soon realize that's not where you want his muzzle, or his talented tongue.

Fortunately for you, Sombra doesn't seem keen on making you wait unnecessarily. You can't see all that well in the dark, save for his eyes as they stay focused solely on you, but his breath between your thighs tells you exactly where his muzzle is. It's only a moment later when your breath catches in your throat again as you feel his warm and broad tongue caressing slowly up the cleft of your marehood, leaving you just a little more wet in his wake than you already were before.

"Divine," he practically growls from below, licking his lips. "And trust me, my dear, I have tasted divinity before." A soft kiss, a torturous half-inch below your clit makes you squirm. "Luna has always stood for lovers, but I hope you do not think your Princess of the Sun so chaste as she likes to pretend." You have a moment to raise your eyebrow at what he insinuates before his hooves grow heavy, pinning your hind legs at full spread, leaving you exposed and unable to move. "Let me show you what once made Celestia glow."

He descends upon you, his tongue tracing every part of your outermost folds until your heavy breathing becomes plaintive whimpers, right forehoof doing its best to bunch up sheets for a grip, and the left coming up to your muzzle to muffle your building noises.

He stops cold.

"Mnnh?" you plead, trembling after just a moment.

"Hoof down," he commands, with an air of knowing you'll obey. "You would not deny your King a voice of adoration, would you?"

Your shaking left hoof joins the other in gripping the sheets. Your voice fills the room with a pleasured scream as he immediately sets back to work, tongue delving into your sex and deeply, filling you and exploring all of your innermost secrets. Your blush has increased tenfold and it must be glowing like his eyes, but you no longer care as he devours you, tongue finding that cluster of pure ecstasy against the front wall of your passage only to leave it untouched for moments at a stretch before attacking once more, the built anticipation erupting within you.

The neighbor probably hears your next cries, and buck it, you've heard her and her husband often enough that she can just deal with it tonight.

"You know," he murmurs between licks as you catch your breath for the next one. "Earth mares have long been my favored consorts." He nips at your clit directly this time, playing those dangerous fangs across the sensitive flesh, and you can't even scream, the sensation making you tremble mutely for a moment. "I'm going to enjoy seeing how long you take to tire out tonight."

He doesn't stop after that, and while you're still trying to determine if it's more of a threat or a promise, he engulfs your aching marehood within his maw, tongue driving fully into your quivering walls. It's not the filling sensation you need, but his masterful touch--making you wonder how many of those thousand or more years he spent practicing just this--quickly builds your pleasure to the breaking point.

Your vision is blurred and shaky even in the dark, but his eyes never leave yours as he pushes you over the edge, now attacking that innermost center of pleasure as you shake and buck your hips against his iron grip. He seems to drink in your orgasm as you gush around his tongue, your walls clenching desperately around it until the waves slowly fade, leaving you breathless but yet unfulfilled. That had been just the warm-up, and his predatory smirk confirms it as he moves up over you once again.

"I seem to have found myself the most delectable and loudest mare I could have hoped for," he says, and so close to you now, you can see your dampness coating his muzzle. "Of course...only the best for the King, would you not agree that to be fair?"

You nod faintly, eyes still half lidded as you recover from one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had in your life.

"Mm, not good enough. Regale me with your voice again, and answer as you ought."

"Y-yes, m-my King," you reply.

"Is it not pleasant to yield to your King's desires, so long as he sees to your every need?"

"Yes, my King," you repeat, finding it far easier this time.

"And yet I fear there is yet a need I have not seen to," he presses on, and you can feel his body settling atop yours, and a presence which had not been felt before, hot and steel-hard, throbbing against your belly. "Tell me, do you desire...something more? Pray thee, just speak it; ask for it and I shall show you how generous a master and ruler I can be."

"I...w-want you..."

"Louder," he growls.

"I want you," you repeat, clearer this time.

"You want me for what, exactly?" He's grinding against you now, and you aren't sure when exactly he started.

"Put it inside me, please," you beg, unable to meet his eyes as you say those words.

"Eyes up; I would see the honesty of your plea." He uses one hoof to lift your chin, to guide you to look back into his eyes.

"Please put it inside me." A little softer this time but you speak no less clearly. He smiles.

"Better, but what shall I put inside you, and where? You aren't being very clear with your request, my subject."

"Please rut me, my King!"

He's already pulling back as you finally plead for him to take you, and your breath is expended as he slides forward, filling you to the hilt. You can't even scream as he plunges his royal stallionhood into your dripping pussy, just barely a size larger than can comfortably fit. Your body aches from his entry, and yet a satisfying euphoria wraps around you, and you know that not only are you capable of taking him--not that he'll relent after you asked him so sweetly--but that you'll enjoy every thrust even if it leaves you too sore to move in the morning.

His grasp returns, this time pinning your forehooves down on either side of your head as he braces himself, and he finally starts to draw back. Prepared for it now, you can feel every detail of his cock as it drags with a slick friction against your sensitive inner walls, thick enough to grind against all of your most pleasurable spots inside. He pulls back until all but his tip is outside of you, and you glance down, seeing the impossible length and girth that was just buried to the hilt, smeared and glistening with your wetness as proof.

"Do you like what you see?" he murmurs in your ear.

You nod and draw in breath to answer, only for him to thrust in swiftly once more, forcing a pleasured scream from you as his heavy orbs bump against your slightly upturned rump.

"I like what I see," he purrs, nipping sharply at your ear--he might have drawn blood this time and you don't care--before continuing. "Your mane is a mess. Your coat glistens with your exertion. Your pleasure is a siren's song to your King's ears. You are mine, my little pony, and I will enjoy you to your fullest."

You realize, with dismay you'll simply have to make time to feel later, that no other stallion will ever compare to this. If it is a dream--and you aren't sure how it can be now--you hope it never ends. He begins to rock his body into yours with a steady rhythm, and when you aren't crying out, the silence between your wails of rapture is broken by the very audible sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your tight marehood, and the protesting springs of the bed beneath your combined, rocking weight.

He hasn't even broken pace before he has you climaxing under him a second time. The steady pumping of his hips as you clench around his royal scepter never once falters, and it drags your release out even longer. His control over you seems rivaled only by his own self-control: Most stallions would have paused here, lest they erupt prematurely, but he lets you ride out your climax to nearly a torturous extent before it finally subsides and you can almost start to breathe again.

That is when he begins to buck into you faster. Your hooves still pressed into the pillow, you can't even hold on for dear life as Sombra bears down over you, nuzzling down from your ear to your cheek, then lower, peppering little nips in a line as he makes his way to your exposed throat. He could pierce your flesh so easily, leave you bleeding; he could truly devour you like all those stories would have you believe, and your response is merely to tilt your chin higher.

He takes the invitation. Like a feral beast he opens his jaws wide and takes your throat in their grasp, fangs pressed against you but despite his increasing vigor in rutting you into your mattress, he holds them at a safe pressure against your neck. You hear, and feel, his growl against your flesh as his pace quickens even more. Beneath the ache of your innermost muscles being worked far more than you are used to, the pleasure begins to build again...or maybe it just never fully abated, and your passing clarity was just a calm in the midst of the storm.

It wasn't ever meant to last. It doesn't last.

The King--your King, you now know--tenses, and for a terrifying heartbeat his jaws flex, with your neck still in their grasp. The feeling of his cock flaring and twitching inside of you is all it takes to have you screaming your ecstasy for a third time in such a short span. As the telltale near-searing heat of his seed spreads throughout your abdomen, your vision blurs as every inch of your marehood ripples around him, obligingly milking him to the last drop. Every surge inside of you is a near-tangible splattering of his thick essence, and you focus on that feeling above all else: It's the feeling of your liege claiming your body, marking it as his own, and you want to savor every moment of it.

You black out.

You jolt awake to sunlight and no small quantity of singing birds, all of which you decide can go straight to Tartarus for the foreseeable future. With a groan, you look at the clock and determine you have three minutes at best before its alarm goes off. It's officially pointless to go back to sleep. Head swimming, you flick the lever on the ticking bane of your morning calm, preemptively silencing the alarm. As you slide out of bed, you make a vow to stay out of Berry Punch's bar for a month or so.

That's when you remember you hadn't gone drinking. That's when you remember what had you up so late last night, or rather, who. You spin around in place.

The bed is empty save for the book you'd fallen asleep reading: A History Of The Crystal Empire. Something that Princess Twilight Sparkle had penned after finding the recorded history lacking, you'd learned. Fascinating reading, but you find yourself somewhat disappointed that it had been a dream. A very vivid dream, and one that had been so intense that you now feel sore, like you'd run a marathon in your sleep. You sigh and head to the dresser, looking into the mirror to see how much maintenance you'll need before trotting off to work.

Your disheveled dark mane frames your eyes which look a bit more green than they usually do, and seem to be catching the light somehow. Still, it's the pendant you're wearing--a black crystal that somehow gleams red in the light, framed within a golden heart--that catches your interest the most, and leaves your mind reeling at the implications.

Should you let somepony know what happened? A friend? The guard? The Princess?

"Nah," you say out loud to nopony in particular, picking up a brush and beginning damage control on your mane with a smile that hadn't been there moments before. You can speak of futures with your King the next time he visits you...

Author's Note

Just something that got in my head and refused to leave. Still working on Weekend! Hope to have something added to that within a week or so.