For most ponies, loneliness is like the weather. Predictable. Frequent. Best to be weathered with friends and family or at worse, alone in a place where nobody cares to know your name. For Celestia, loneliness is a sickness. And worse still, she’s a terminal case.
Loneliness is not a simple cold that she can brush off. Nor a bit of flu that she can sweat away, cradled in covers. She is not plagued by the usual assortment of mental woes: self-hatred, self-pity, indecision, and the worse of them all, regret. Instead, she longs for comfort. The worse sort of comfort. Physical stimulation. Irrationally. Pathetically. And yet, she’s here. Seeking it all the same. Not a cure. No, she isn’t here to be cured. But to receive her daily dose of momentary pleasure, fledgling affection and for her loneliness to be cast away, banished, if only for now. If only for today.
Celestia wakes with the unfamiliar sun, blue baleful light spreading out across the tiny apartment, the modern furniture and then the bed, two lumps, two bodies, lying there. Hours after the fact, the smell is there. The remnants of sex; male musk, thick and pungent, and feminine odor, light and flighty.
Reminding her what happened hours before. What will happen hours after.
The white alicorn sits up, her wings carefully unfurling and getting the exercise they desperately need. Blood sweeps in. Dull pain sweeps out. They ache, limply heeding her silent command. Her wings are rather stiff as well but she couldn’t blame them. They would be slower than usual after indulging her need to be pounded into a mattress. She enjoys being on her back far more than she dislikes mornings working out the unwanted kinks.
Long breaths. Celestia rubs her hooves together, attempting to be more than a touch-starved manic. He’s right there. Slumbering softly. It would be wrong interrupt his sleep just because he didn’t have his arms around her. Short smiles. He’s there. He’s hers. All hers, all morning. Celestia turns to the wide window on the left, the city of Chicago coming to life with their curious cars and planes flying over ahead.
One of her ears flickers to the side, catching the magical hum of the portal she used to arrive.
Simple calibrations of the magic mirror situated in the Crystal Empire is her method. Abuse of her royal authority is her sin. She happily spins a tale for Cadance and Shining Armor, explaining her duty to do some personal fact-checking on a long-lost foe trapped in the mirror. They never ask for a name. Good of them. It has no name, not really, though loneliness is a fine title. Subtitle, if she has to be honest. Like her own, Celestia the Princess, it matches, X the Loneliness It makes a sort of sense, a sad sense of duality. The royal couple never goes beyond asking her to take a guard or two with her. And of course, she rebuffs them.
Loneliness is already a fine companion to bring along.
Yesterday night plays between each blink of her eyes. Blink. Celestia waltzing into the home, naked of her usual regal apparel. Something had been on her mind. Irritation. Luna made another one of her comments again during dinner and it stung, it burned. Blink. Celestia pushing the human down on the sofa, magically unclasping his belt. Blink. Her willing mouth grasping onto the edges of his boxer and pulling them down. Blink. His hot cream spilling out on her tongue. Blink. His eyes, flashing. Darkening in lust. Blink. Her on her back, him between her thighs. Blink. Sweet, sweet, release.
Her comfort is still asleep. Tony, a human who lives in a human world. He’s the color of bronze, a sharp contrast to her alabaster-white fur. He’s taller than any stallion she knows, though he doesn’t look it when he isn’t standing up. Six pale dimples in the middle of his back make a star, looking almost like a misplaced cutie mark. His hair is shaggy, long curly black strands moving like wisps in the lazy wind.
Tony shifts in his sleep, sliding closer with a sleepy shuffle to her side of the bed. Celestia smiles, she smiles long and mischievously. The gray sheets ride low on his hips, a trail of tanned flesh flashing with every slow rise of his chest. Celestia bends her neck and places a experimental peck on his forehead.
Tony still sleeps. None the wiser.
Her lips move, a kiss to his nose, a kiss to his lips. Tony kisses back, a pressure to her lips a surprise. Celestia pauses, waits to see those eyes open, those green eyes look at her as if she was the only mare in the world. And she was in this world, but the way he looks at her every morning, a slow gaze, bright and blinding and heart-stopping, gently looking from her hooves to her lips- It makes her feel. It makes her, weak-kneed. It makes her, linger and long and wonder. Over him. Always him. Keenly. Utterly. Shying from those mortal eyes, glancing away from that reflection in its depths.
There’s a Celestia who looks happy in them. A Celestia who doesn’t remember loneliness. She’s too much. He’s too much. Coming to see him, speaking with a human who knows nothing about Equestria or Celestia’s name. Celestia the Princess. It feels unreal, too delightful to be real. In a world where nobody knows her name, loneliness isn’t here. It is. It has to be. It follows her everywhere. It reasserts itself when she leaves.
Perhaps another sickness takes its place. A sort of love sickness. She wonders what Tony thinks of her. Does he think of her a flighty mare, coming to see him when she’s down? Does he imagine her as a love-stricken loon that he’s only humoring because he likes how she spills out in words, in touches, in passion when she comes around.
Ah, Tony still sleeps and her lips continue their descent, a kiss to his neck, a kiss to his collarbone.
She scooches under the sheets, lips leaving behind flags in the shape of kisses of her absolute invasion. Down falls his chest, then his belly and then, his belly button. Celestia continues, sprinkling kisses until she meets with a familiar friend. Tony’s cock, half-hard and eager, twitches when her lips presses against it.
"This won’t do," she murmurs, "we have to toughen you up."
Her tongue joins the cause, licking the thick shaft and encouraging it to rise with haste. Tony’s knees shifts slightly, touching tentatively against her shoulders as if in confusion of what is dividing them apart. The crown of his cock presents itself, dribbling out male essence that she laps up, addicted. The smell of him fills her nose. Not just the masculine heady aroma but other places he’s been; concrete, the stench of tobacco, timber and soap. These are the things that make up Tony, putting images and smells to the words he’s told about himself. He’s a construction worker. He’s a man who loves working with his hands. There’s no way of denying he smells of his profession. She spins her tongue around his girth, getting it nice and wet with her saliva. His cock grows several inches, ready to serve at her command.
Celestia cautiously spells away the sheets, expecting to see a pair of knowing eyes peering at her but Tony dreams undisturbed. His hips unconsciously moves, slowly thrusting the air for relief. Celestia pounces, thighs deliberately brushing against his stiff cock as she positions herself over him. Pre-cum smears against her coat, a erotic gesture that makes the space between her thighs drip and drop in earnest. She’s wet, so wet. So ready to have him inside of her all over again. Her face rubs against his chest, sniffing and kissing and lonely. Slowly, she slides back. Her entrance parting for Tony’s cock without a fuss.
The mare moans, breathlessly, lunglessly, he’s so big that he takes the breath right out of her lungs and it’s just the crown. Biting her lip, she leans back, head swimming in pleasure as she takes in all of his fullness. When had this begin, she wonders in her mind, her desire for her lonely hole to be filled. Metaphorically speaking. Her hips fall back, finally making contact with Tony’s hips and his swollen balls flush against her back-end. Her pussy clenches and unclenches, greeting each curve of hot man-flesh with a snug, friendly hug.
With a quick breath, she snaps her hips and her body ignites in ecstasy. She writhes, pushing herself up and down, moaning loudly at such an early hour. Tony looks at her, eyes blinking in sleepy befuddlement and Celestia turns away, refusing to match his gaze. Her face feels hot, boiling, her ears feel red, vermilion. His hands grasps the sides of her hips, thumbs grazing against the middle of her cutie marks. The thumbs press in. Celestia wiggles, leaning from the left to the right, fending off the twinges of pleasure grinding into her soft fur. Ah, it feels- Ah, it gives-
Why did her cutie marks have to be so sensitive, so responsive to his touch?
"Celestia," her name crawls out of his mouth and she shivers, already on the verge of coming apart then and there. "Good morning, sunshine." If her ears weren’t red before, they are now. Celestia tries to silence him with a roll of her hips. Less talking, more fucking. But Tony won’t have any of that. He holds her in place, strong hands firmly cupping her luscious cheeks. "You couldn’t wait until I woke up to have your way with me? If I didn’t know any better, I’d assumed you liked my cock more than you liked me. Do you?"
"No," she says, ears flat on her head, "I didn’t want to wake you."
"So, you don’t like my cock?"
He just playing, Celestia knows that, but she can’t help but sputter a response.
"No, I love your cock," her face is burning and she keeps on going, "It’s so thick and big and it feels so good inside of me," shamelessly, "I can’t control myself when I’m in the same room with you. Knowing that I can just come and touch you, you touch me and I come. I touch and you come. It’s nice. Being with you. Being with your," Celestia stutters into a laugh, "cock."
Tony laughs along, his dark and melodious voice making her smile.
"How do you like my cock," he asks, sitting up and adjusting their position. Celestia wraps her hooves around his shoulders, thighs trembling from the change of the angle inside of her. Tony’s hard and Celestia is hardly staying still, attempting to pump her hips.
"Do you like it in your mouth?" he says, kissing her. "Do you like in your ass?"
He spreads her chunky cheeks. How does he do that? Hold all of her as if she’s as light as a feather. Not to boast but her rear is of much admiration, full and round and quite tempting to touch. One cheek is as big as his head and he holds it without even trembling from its weight. Plays with it. Makes her squirm from his thorough ministrations.
"Do you like it," he pauses, dragging out what he plans to say, "like this?" He thrusts up, driving her wild. Her vision blurs and words tumble out of her mouth. Celestia can’t remember what she says but he looks at her and she forgets, oh how she forgets that she is lonely. To be lonely is to be absurd.
He lifts her half-way before slamming her back down. Celestia arches, delirious, clawing in vain for some sort of hold for her to hang on. He plunges inside of her, quick and vigorous strokes denying her a moment to catch her breath. Her body quakes and an orgasm comes and goes with little fanfare. The speedy pleasure blinds her, throwing her into the sea of simple give-and-take.
The bed creaks, the ceiling looks strange above her. When did the world turn upside down?
She blinks, confused, abandoned, before Tony leans over her and she realizes she’s on her back, wings wide and flailing against their hold. His thrusts change, long and slow. Celestia pants, her moans and groans and cries nearly deafening. Their bodies become slick with sweat and scent. Her wings pressing on the mattress, her body pressing on her wings, and Tony pressing on her, it’s too much. Too good. She falls apart, giving blindly to the pleasure. Their bodies work together, rubbing and grinding and touching. Tony jerks inside of her, heralding the end. With one last thrust, his cock stiffens before unleashing its load inside of her. It’s hot and warm and Celestia feels full, literally speaking.
Tony slumps on top of her and she holds him, turning them both onto their sides. Celestia curls into Tony’s side, minding her horn, she rests against his neck. His hand pats her side in slow, loving circles. She feels sleepy and utterly sated. For now. Cool air blows in from the open window. The foreign sun rises, shining upon the city.
Today, if only for this morning, Celestia isn’t lonely.
