Princess Celestia was a creature of the night, sleek and slight, the color of her alabaster fur no different from the silvery moonlight that spilled in from the high windows of the guest chambers he called his. Under the moon's splendor, she appeared dreamlike —a sweet dream, an angel— but in the stark darkness, she was like a ghost, a thing of long limbs and grim light —a pale horse with a crown, Death— stalking ever so closer. The contrast was so odd and amusing that the human wasn't sure if she'd really came to his room in the dead of night until she came once three times in a single week.
Mark could never bring himself to sleep around this time, waking up on reflex to watch the strange ritual the alicorn felt compelled to act out. He would breathe very slowly, carefully watching her out the corner of his eyes. If this was just another one of her kinks, good lord did Celestia have them, he would have understood in a relative way —being her sexual partner and all—, but it certainly didn't feel like it.
The great vain mare, a title he gave her, had sort of a gimmick. A particular habit she wouldn't stop performing around him. He didn't think she did it on purpose or at least, maliciously, but she would not hesitate using her magic around him for ridiculous reasons.
Transforming things when she could have called for one of her ponies to bring whatever she needed. Conjuring objects that he could have easily passed to her. Summoning things he was sure couldn't exist in this strange world the moment he brought it up. If it wasn't for the parade of servants that kept Celestia's informal offices clean with a daily sweep, her rooms would be packed to the brim with duplicates of forms and files, cups and plates, and all sorts of furniture.
But the thing hated the most was her levitating him along when he couldn't keep up with her brisk stride. The first time was fine but the sixteenth time of him floating along like a limp kitten was pushing it.
All and more of the many magical tricks and spells she had to have known she used, being who knows how many years old. But here and now, when she could have teleported in or used some weird spell to walk through his closet mirror or whatever else she had in her arsenal, Princess Celestia chose to walk.
The tell-tale sounds of her golden-clad hooves clinking across the smooth marble floor before they met carpet, then into sensual thumps as she stepped out of her shoes, was like a prelude to the end. The end of what, Mark didn't know. But his heart kicked into high gear once her dainty hooves approached his bed. Then came the final thud, her crown levitated to his bed stand.
It was so strange, whatever this was.
Especially when he compared it to that, that being him and her. Quick sex and private nooks.
Always deep, deep into the long night, did she come. When the bright stars and the dark sky pretended it that it would stay dark forever, dawn and morning merely dreams, and that distant blue rising up from the horizon was something to pay little attention to.
And morning itself might never come if one judged her on how she acted, silent and swift, the way she snuck herself into his sheets and bed. Pushing him over and pulling him close, spooning and spreading like she was water and he clay. Her touch always had him shivering at any other time, buzzing with anticipation of whatever little act she needed him for.
But here, her touch, he couldn't think of a word for it.
Princess Celestia was a relentless beauty, wild and wondrous, but this mare in the room with him... Mark didn't know her.
Their forms ensnared and entangling to the point that it was hard to tell whose limb was whose. Besides the obvious differences between them, him being human and her not so much. It was so much more confusing then how she was during the day, busy, her time clocked to the last second and words were few. Even here, she didn't say much besides a sleepy sigh barely heard over the low creak of the bed springs as it adjusted to their combined weight.
And yet, it was more than he heard from her in four whole days. Sultry groans, stifled moans and the accidental echoing grunt from when they were bumping uglies in a narrow closet of a important meeting room in session with the Canterlot Plants and Park Committee weren't counted.
Did she think he was asleep? Did she only come when she thought he was asleep?
So many questions ate at him during these nights then quickly forgotten in the morning. But tonight his mind wandered, confused by the comfort and warmth of their bodies, of her. He tried to think of some sort of explanation, details he's noticed over her nightly visits. Her great white wings stretched over their bodies, casting a pale shadow resembling a halo. Mark blinked, his heart stirring at the sight of the great and powerful mare sweetly sleeping by his side. The tips of her soft feathers touched his face as the wings arched, a stray feather falling onto the comforter.
He closed his eyes, trying to force himself to go to sleep. To stop thinking and dream his questions away but he couldn't. His mind ran in circles, matching the light snores of the princess.
She always came on a Tuesday.
Or it would start on a Tuesday should she continue coming in the following days after. The weekday was significant in Mark's mind. Tuesday was the day he was supposed to have returned to Earth and it was also the day Princess Celestia had delayed him to ask for a favor. A sexual favor that had him lingering around Canterlot Castle a month longer than he ever would have expected.
And it was towards the end of this month, on a Tuesday no less, he wondered if Celestia had gotten bored.
