Worth A Thousand Words

The crackling sound of wood burning permeated the air of the room, the scent of the fireplace an inviting sensation to thoughts of storytelling and quiet nights in the wilderness. For Featherweight, there was not one, but two differences here. The first being that his wilderness surrounding him wasn't an amalgamation of trees, bushes, and weathered paths, but comfortable furniture, plush carpets, and the walls of the studio room he was inside.

The other difference was the company; the typical lit fire suggested the warm presence of other fellow friends and travelers alike, an experience Featherweight wasn't unfamiliar with from his time in Ponyville. In this apartment, Featherweight had only one other pony with him, and she was more captivating than the lit fire behind her. Fleur de Lis was lying on one side, facing towards the photographer with one hand on her hip, the other in front of her to steady herself.

Her appearance was immaculate as always, the decision on this shoot being one aimed for a more alluring, sensual take. Featherweight had gone to Photo Finish for advice, and she suggested aiming for a more intimate ambience than what he had been doing. She looked gorgeous in every shot so far, in his eyes. The selection she'd chosen here was designed in the idea of a romantic evening at home: a black dress with thin shoulder straps and a teasing window to bring attention to her curves and full figure. Fleur had her mane brushed and styled in a loose fashion that curled at the tips, kept away from her face as she smiled at the camera. A wine glass was placed just in front of where her chest rested, the positioning of herself and the glass keeping her decent yet teasing for a closer look in the same glance.

It only continued as one went further down her figure to her slim waist, the hill arching up once more to reach the swell of her hips. The dress ended at her lower thigh, her white legs crossed over the other, ending with her bare feet and pedicured toes. A hint of her tail made itself known just by her ankles, a dash of light purple and amethyst that only kept one focused on the model in her entirety as she was cast in the flickering lights of the fireplace.

Featherweight listened to the click of his camera as he snapped a picture, lowering it after the photo had registered in the camera's storage. He smiled at Fleur from his spot across from her, a couple of feet separating the two. “Let's take a breather for now. I don't want you feeling like you're being cooked and primed for dinner.” He remarked.

“Oui. I much rather prefer a diet of seafood and vegetables to meat.” She agreed, giving a small laugh as Featherweight approached and offered her a hand. “How did the shots look from that angle?”

Featherweight held the camera up, turning the display so she could see it as he did. Cycling through the photos, he paused at the first and made his way through each, the variety between them demonstrated in either his angle or of a small adjustment on Fleur's part.

“It seems to be going good there. The lighting is offset by your dress and coat color being opposites like they are, but it works to bring out your features. How long have you had that dress, you said?” He questioned.

“Only a month or two now. I have never had occasion to wear it until tonight.” Fleur answered, turning to smile at the stallion beside her. “You are growing more used to this now, no? Compared to our first shoot?”

Featherweight nodded at her remark. “It feels a lot easier, you're right.”

“I'm going to go switch into the next outfit.” Fleur said, giving him a light tap on the shoulder. He looked up from the camera to her as she smiled at him, dragging her finger along his shoulders before parting, turning to slip into the adjoined bathroom nearby. Featherweight watched her go, eyes trailing down her back to the heart-shaped rump that gave a small sway in her step before turning himself away to look at the fireplace instead.

Taking a slow breath, Featherweight kept his eyes on the flames while his hand ran through his mane. It did little to ease his nervousness. Since their encounter with Flare Shot, Fleur had become more open around him. She was more prone to physical contact, using gentle hugs or brushes of her hand instead of maintaining a casual distance. The newfound closeness did plenty to bolster his spirits while working, let alone the way his heart would rush every time she touched him. He would try to tell himself that these emotions weren't a crush, wasn't him falling for the beautiful mare; but he couldn't stop feeling nervous whenever she got close.

She was beautiful, intelligent, and bore a kind heart. He could see it in her smile, her laugh, the way she listened. The loud crack of the wood burning snapped him out of his thoughts, color rushing to his cheeks as he realized he'd zoned out while thinking of Fleur. Shaking himself from it, he put his mind back to task, checking over the camera again to be sure there was no impending problems or technical issues he might run into mid-shoot.

Fleur's return was announced by the door creaking as she opened it, stepping back into the room and closing the door behind her. “Voila!” She exclaimed when Featherweight looked up to her. It made him swallow down the shyness bubbling up inside him again as he took her in. She bore no shoes, socks, or leggings even, this time going with an elegant and somewhat fluffy looking red bathrobe that went with her white coat extremely well.

“Red always does look well on you, Fleur.” He complimented.

“Oui, Feather. Very astute.” Fleur praised while walking up to him. With the way that the bathrobe would shift and seem to shimmer against her figure, Featherweight felt it was a reasonable wager that there was nothing hidden beneath that thin bathrobe other than Fleur's own eye-catching body, a fact that rang throughout the stallion's being. “I had other ideas, but this one stood out to me. Do you think it suits my figure well enough?”

Like the question needed to be asked. Fleur's elegant figure kept the bathrobe tight about her torso, her full bosoms resting on her chest without a bra or any other support to keep them upright. The red silk material hugged her sides, fitting snug and proper to show how wide her hips were. The tantalizing exposure of her thighs past the end of the bathrobe made him jerk his eyes back up to her face, where her violet orbs waited, bright as they gazed back at him.

“Y-yes. Definitely. You look great, Fleur.” He spoke, managing to find his voice. Fleur nodded before bringing a finger to her chin as she spoke.

“What if we tried a different camera position for this one?” she suggested.

Featherweight turned away from the model and let his eyes wander until they found a small stepladder propped by the door. Nodding, he went to it and retrieved the stepladder before bringing it to the setup. “What if we tried one from above? We wouldn't have to worry about glare from the firelight coming off of the red colors, and we'd have a full perspective shot of you with a good background?”

Fleur clapped her hands. “Magnifique! Allow me a moment to get in position, Featherweight.” She said, passing by him to move to her spot in front of the fireplace. She was close enough that the stallion could smell a hint of her perfume, a subtle but sweet fragrance that made him pause before shaking his head to clear his senses. Turning, he watched as she laid upon her back, settling herself before stretching her legs out, one arm curled around her middle as she let the other rest above her head. Featherweight unfolded the stepladder and placed it near the model's body, choosing to try from her side than directly beneath her as the stepladder would have been too close that way.

Stepping atop the fixture, Featherweight turned his camera back on and settled atop his post before staring into the viewer. His mind came to a pause, however, when he took in Fleur's image.

'Stars and Moon above.'

It was like looking at a picture of genuine erotica, the kind one would see on the bookshelves of markets across Equestria. Unlike the cheap literature, Fleur's image was gorgeous. From his vantage, the firelight to her right gave her white coat and the red color of the bathrobe a pleasant glow. Her mane was cast about her head like a halo of light violet, bringing attention to the smoldering gaze she gave the camera – andhim – as she laid upon the floor. The robe itself had parted slightly from her posture, giving a tantalizing peek of her hefty breasts but maintaining enough decency that she was in no way obscene or too risque.

His hands shook the camera before he took a breath and steadied himself. 'Focus. Do your job.' He told himself as he snapped one, then two shots. Fleur would give an adjustment every couple seconds, changing her expression from sultry to inviting, to a come hither look, to a playful pout; a wheel of expressions that had Featherweight's heart pounding and sweat crawling down the back of his neck.

“Do you want to change position again?” He questioned after finishing a shot. His hands were starting to hurt a little from how tight he was gripping the camera.

“Perhaps. Allow me to adjust this.” Fleur remarked before lifting herself up on her elbows, hands coming up to pull at the cloth of the robe. Feather was left to watch from his position above her, his eyes wandering as she worked at her cloth. A hum of thought left Fleur's lips as it seemed the robe wouldn't do as she beckoned; a sigh left her before she scooted back, to give herself more leverage and pull. The robe moved, but in a way that left Featherweight to nearly drop his camera as as the bathrobe fell aside, caught on some sort of hitch. “Oh!”

For the briefest of moments, he was treated to the sight of Fleur's bare chest. His eyes hovered on the visage of the model's exposed skin and darkened areolae, the white breasts capped with dark red nubs that weren't erect, but no less tantalizing to the stallion's view. His imagination conjured the idea of what they’d look like up close.

“There we go, slight wardrobe malfunction. Feather?” Fleur looked up from herself to only find him stepping away from the stepladder and stumbling back from her position. His hand was over his eyes as he fell back against a sofa, the cushion catching his fall as he curled back onto it. The camera was left on the far side of the couch, abandoned and still on but away from Feather's trembling other hand.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” He repeated again and again, his eyes kept hidden by his hand overtop them.

“Feather! What is the matter?” Fleur sat up, looking down to see the cause of the wardrobe malfunction: the stepladder had caught the end of the robe, the backside having been longer than she'd realized and thus when she'd tried to change position, it had caught. But Featherweight's behavior to such a sight was much more concerning. Standing up, she tied her robe closed and approached the shivering stallion. “Featherweight, darling, whats wrong?”

“Please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to look!” He answered, keeping his gaze hidden away from seeing her. “Please, I-I'll go home, a-and we can forget that happened and-”

“Feather, calm down. You'll give yourself a heart attack!” Fleur said, coming up beside him. Feather's body continued to shake before he felt and heard Fleur's magic glow alight. His body was being lifted off the sofa; his trembling renewed, imagining he was about to be thrown to the door for his mistake. But instead of the harsh rebuke of the wooden floor, his form found purchase in a soft embrace as silk caressed against his arm and hand. Arms encircled around his shoulders as he realized Fleur was beside him, and holding him to her. Her warmth was soft, as much as her curves were against him.

“W-what?” He didn't peek out; it could be a trick, a ruse. He could have misled himself and Fleur may only be intending to keep him put to scold him, for all he knew. That was how everypony back home treated him, how she'd treated him.

“Breathe, Feather. Breathe.” She whispered to him. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears as much as his own rapid, short breaths, but found it hard to meet the request. “It is alright. I am not going to hurt you. I would never dream of it.” Her words were spoken slow, clear and gentle as he listened to her over the crackling of the fireplace. “Breathe.”

It took a few minutes of silence, but Fleur's patience was rewarded with Featherweight's gradual calming as he inhaled and exhaled in long breaths, their fervor dying down as he rested against her neck and shoulder, cradled there by the older mare as she watched over him.

“Are you ok, Feather?” She asked.

He nodded, silent but calmed from her gentle hold and reassurances. The sharp sensation of fear had been dulled to a low undercurrent, subdued by the new feeling of shame at his reaction to her beautiful form being revealed.

“Featherweight, please. Look at me.” Fleur beckoned, but Feather didn't move. It was not until her own hand came up and clasped his, gentle but firm, that he responded. He let her move his hand, his eyes afraid to meet hers as he looked up. The stallion let her hold his hand as she stared back at him, the violet orbs searching what he felt like was his own soul as much as his very face. “You don't need to be afraid of me, Featherweight. I would never harm you. I wouldn't dream of it!”

Featherweight nodded. “I-I know.” He mumbled out. “I-I'm sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize. But I must know: what made you respond in such a way?” She questioned. “Truth be told, you would be the first man to have turned away from moi when I was exposed than to stay and look.”

Featherweight shook his head. “I-It's not right to look at a mare exposed when she isn't supposed to be. I'm not...I'm not a perv.” He answered, eyes casting aside from the beauty as she listened.

“No, you are not. You are my friend, Featherweight. A dear friend.” She replied, using her hand on his cheek to turn him back to her. “This is something you've had trouble with before, have you not? Something in the past?”

Featherweight looked into her violet pools before sighing, moving to lay back against the sofa and away from the mare beside him. The plushness of the sofa wasn't as comforting as the mare's embrace, but his emotions dizzied the line between comfort and discomfort in that moment. “I'm not exactly sure I...I mean, why does this matter to you? Shouldn't you be telling me off for seeing your chest or something? Isn't that how this works out?”

Fleur shook her head. “It was an accident, Feather. I wouldn’t scold you for something you didn’t do on purpose. Do you know how often things like this happen in our line of work?. We are all grown adults here; nopony is going to be immature and raise a fuss when we are all used to such things.” She explained. “A model takes it as a compliment when her beauty catches the eye of an onlooker. I have posed in much naughtier sets, believe me.”

Featherweight's cheeks colored, but he nodded at her reply. “You remember where I come from? Ponyville?” Fleur nodded, and the stallion continued. “When I was younger, like, five or six years ago. I was an awkward teen. Like, really awkward.”

“As are we all when we are stretching growing legs and learning new emotions.” Fleur replied.

“It does. Pretty predictable, I know. A-anyway. You know how when you're young, you make mistakes, right?”

“Learning from mistakes is a part of life, yes.” Fleur said.

“Yeah, well. This mistake I made stuck around for awhile.” His remark left his expression downcast, but Fleur kept her eyes fixed on him. Seeing her undeterred, he took a breath before beginning.

“There was a girl, Diamond Tiara was her name. When I was still in school back in Ponyville. She and I didn't exactly see on the best of terms at first, since she was kinda obnoxious to everypony. Some of my other friends got through to her though and she lightened up a lot. Or, so I'd thought.” He started, looking to Fleur before continuing. “We were working on a project in class together, for a summer festival. Just something simple. Since it was the end of the day, a lot of my classmates left their things out, scraps on the floor, tools. Everypony was more focused on their vacation coming up.”

Fleur nodded, and he continued. “I was helping put up some decorations around the class, and I tripped on something on the floor. I didn’t have good balance back then, even for a pegasus, so I tried to catch onto something to help me out. Unfortunately, it was Diamond Tiara in front of me. My hands grabbed her shirt, and when I went down, so did her shirt too. She was left topless in front of the whole class, myself included. I had maybe a second before she screamed and slapped me across the face. Everypony was laughing, because they thought I’d done it on purpose. I didn’t mean to, it just happened that way.” Featherweight leaned back into the couch. “Because of that, I’m always nervous around mares. I’m worried about making another accident and making myself out like a fool again.”

Fleur shook her head, raising her hand up to his cheek and turning him back to her again. Featherweight's brown eyes were cautious, but Fleur's violets kept him still as she spoke.

“Wounds of an emotional nature are sometimes the hardest to get beyond, Featherweight. Nopony is weak for dealing with such things. But you pressed on, no? You are here now, in Canterlot, a city few can dream of succeeding in and working towards your dreams. It takes time to heal, but it mends itself.” Surprising him, she leaned down and planted a brief, momentary kiss upon his cheek. It left his face red, but he kept listening.

“The past is in the past because it chooses to be. You are not the stallion you were when you were young. You have grown, matured. You are an upstanding young man, a hard worker. Do not let yourself be defined by one bad event: surpass it and learn from it, to become that much better yourself.” Her smile widened as she stayed close. “You might even find a mare who would want you to throw her shirt off, no?”

Fleur's words struck a chord with Featherweight, making the stallion nod at her wisdom. His trembling had ceased by now, soothed by her comfort. At her joke, he gave a quiet snort before speaking.

“That's really good advice, Fleur. But, I mean, look at me.” He gestured at himself with his free hand. “I'm not exactly somepony to grace the cover of Equestrian Illustrated shirtless, now am I?”

Fleur hummed in consideration before a playful smile came to her face. “Why not let moi be the judge of that?” She suggested.

“Beg pardon?”

Featherweight looked up at the taller mare as she stood up from the couch, following suit when she gestured for him to.

“Tell me, Featherweight. Your once-upon marefriend blamed your apparent lack of muscle as a cause to depart you, no?” She questioned. At his uncertain nod, she continued. “Take off your shirt.”

Featherweight blushed. “What? Why?”

Fleur's smile turned a touch impish as she waited, patient. “Am I not the experienced model in this room, Featherweight?”

“Yes, you are.”

“And would I not have an eye for what could and should make for a decent appearance too? Clothed or not?”

“...I think so?”

Fleur nodded. “Good. Then we agree. Take off your shirt.”

Confused, but curious, Featherweight unbuttoned the red polo he'd been wearing and laid it on the sofa. The air of the fan brushed against his pale coat, making him raise his arms up to cover his frame. He held them there until Fleur approached him, getting him to lower his arms as she laid her hands upon them.

“Trust me, Feather. Nopony else is here but you and I. I will not hurt you. I only wish to show you what I see.” She explained.

Feather let his arms come down until they were at his sides, leaving him to stand bare from the waist up before the supermodel. His nervousness tugged at his mind to put his shirt back on, that she was going to inspect him and find him lacking, despite her assurances. He was a thin stallion, after all; no real muscle or bulk, a credit to his pegasus heritage. But he reasoned there must be some purpose to her intentions, particularly after her curious statement.

Fleur brought a hand to her chin as she looked him up and down, leaving the stallion unsure if he should be trying to pose for her much like she often did in front of the camera. He settled for staying still while Fleur began to walk about him.

“Do you think beauty is a one-way street, Featherweight? That to be beautiful, one can only cross that street if you have the right traits? The right mane, the right complexion, the right figure, so on?” She paused at his side, bringing a delicate hand to his shoulder.

“Well, I mean. No? I don't think anything's ever defined just one way. Or it shouldn't be.” He answered.

Fleur nodded. “Good. You see, being the success I am, many might think that only a stallion would catch my attention if he is of the same grade as moi. But this is not the case.” She explained, her hand dragging along his shoulder to his back as she moved. “I apply a different measure. Different ideas. A stallion with broad shoulders may be strong, for instance, but that stallion may also be too rough, too forceful. Too forward in his ways. You are not a huge stallion, but that suits you for you do not need to be rough or forceful. Your mannerisms show me that.”

She continued, moving to his right as he turned to watch her. A shiver crawled up his spine as her index and middle fingers trailed along his right side up to his shoulder. It kept him curious to where this was leading, as much as he savored her delicate touch. Her fingers were smooth and soft, like her own voice as she spoke. “Some would mistake a model for wanting to have a coltfriend who is rigid and strong, muscular and buff. Not I. I do not need a beefcake of a man to keep my company, if he expects all the attention to be on him.” Fleur smiled at Featherweight as he listened with rapt focus on her. “You give me more than enough attention that a mare feels in the spotlight without even trying. Many a mare likes those qualities. But perhaps most appealing of all?”

Featherweight felt his cheeks color as her hand came to rest on his chest. “Y-yes?”

“You are kind. Gentle. Honest. The qualities of a stallion that give more radiance to themselves than any sort of physical charm ever could. You may have been harmed in the past, but here, you will not find such cruelty forced upon you. Not from moi.” She explained. “I would never allow harm to come to somepony who treats me as an individual, and not just the pretty mare for a cover shot. You stood by me when Flare tried to tempt you away and discourage you. You have integrity.” Fleur paused as she brought her free hand to her own chest, mimicking her gesture upon himself.

“When we first met, I was not sure what to make of the young man before me. Would he be a friend? A chore? A problem? You answered that question on our first day together; talking to me, sharing with me. Treating me as an individual, and not merely a pretty flower to look upon. You showed commitment against adversity, and here,” her fingers gently rubbed his fur, “a heart that's pure. So if you're going to ask moi if you are one to be desired? Believe me when I say you are.”

Featherweight considered her words as she withdrew from him and moved back in front of the fireplace. It was unexpected for Fleur to be so open with him, but it was reassuring. It also stoked the flames he'd been keeping down inside all the while.

“T-to be fair, Fleur, a-and I have to be. You're...very desirable too.” He confessed. The words spilled from his tongue quicker than he could think to restrain or rephrase them. “Smart. Gorgeous to look at. Fun to be around. Out of all your pictures you've ever done, I honestly think your best are when you're smiling. And not the fake, practice one. It's that real one, the one when you're happy.”

Fleur beamed at him and leaned in closer. Featherweight had but a moment to see her drawing in before she kissed his cheek. Unlike the time before, this one dwelled longer, and she pulled back only just enough that he could still feel her breath against his skin.

“I am happy around you, Featherweight.” She said, her cheeks a red that he knew wasn't from her makeup.

He stayed put there, neither of them making a move as the crackle of the fireplace loomed in the background. It was Fleur who moved first, standing upright again before giving him a smile. “So shall we resume? I still have other outfits to try on for you.”

Featherweight nodded and fetched his shirt, throwing it back on before her words caught up to him He didn't know if it was intentional or not; his hammering heart didn't care either. “Sure. I'm up for it if you are. Let's make it our best. Together.”

Fleur's grin never faded all the rest of the night, the model giving Featherweight many a tantalizing tease as he snapped dozens of photos, pushing his camera's storage nearly to the brink. He wasn't sure if she intended to show all of these to Photo Finish, and in that moment, he couldn't find it in himself to care. He just wanted to see more of her.