Encounter at North Park

by Dusk Melody

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Romance, Princess Luna, Drama, Original Character, Octavia, Fetish
Length: 22007

Dusk Melody wasn't looking for love in North Park. Brush Stroke wasn't looking for love when he left his apartment. While they weren't looking for it, they would find love with each other

Two stallions, one broken hearted. One who was unsure of his life have a chance meeting in North Park. One being from a family of royalty. One being from a common family, both needing love in their lives happen to find each other when they need somepony most. Can these two help each other, and can Dusk learn that there isn't a set time to how long one's heart can heal?

~ ~ ~

This story features: M/M sex, BDSM, Dominance, Submission, Loving Snuggles

Thank you to Zervon Tora & Nira Lightshine for pre-reading, editing and the description.

Sequel can be found here; We Just Got The Day...

Published 2018-01-01 21:00:06 UTC
Last updated 2018-01-01 21:00:06 UTC

Chapter 1 - Yes, I'm Fine, but I Could be Better

Dusk Midnight Melody was fine. He was fine. Absolutely fine. Totally, one hundred per cent, completely, fine. He was fine when he left Stripes’ Cup of Java coffee shop. He was fine when the noonday sun hit his midnight blue fur. He was fine when the slight sea breeze coming from the Manehatten shoreline ruffled his feathers. He was fine when he turned north and began to walk.

He was fine. Dusk Melody was fine.

The Prince was also a liar. ‘I’m fine…’ he told himself again, knowing that even as he thought this, it was a lie. “I’m fine…I’m fine…” he said aloud to himself as he walked along the sidewalk. He alone seemed oblivious to the fact that with each step, his shoulders slumped and his head dropped lower. Every step he took, his powerful wings drooped. Wings that were capable of propelling him to over the speed of sound now hung loose and limp at his sides.

“I’m fine…” His charcoal grey mane and tail wilted with every step. He didn’t really know where he was going, except that he was going north. He had told Caffeinated he would explore the North Park. He figured walk north until he hit grass. Really though, he didn’t much care where he went.

“I’m fine.” Every couple of steps, he repeated what was fast becoming a mantra. A not-very-convincing mantra. He walked, slouched, along the sidewalk past all manner of ponies. The young royal stumbled by stallions, mares, colts, fillies, families, old and young. Some recognised him, most did not. Some stopped and stared, others ignored him completely. He didn’t really care.

Dusk walked past a young couple who immediately pulled out their phones for photographs. He walked on past a couple of stallions who called out a greeting. To a pony he ignored them all. Not because he wasn’t fine, because he totally was. The tears that brimmed his pink eyes didn’t mean a thing. He was fine. As he walked along, completely not looking where he was going, he ran and re-ran the last conversation he’d had through his head.

“Hey, hey babe!” The joy and happiness in Dusk’s voice was almost palpable to the zebra, even across the coffee shop. “I’m sorry I woke you up, sweetie, how was the show?” Caffeinated sincerely wished his machine was louder, about a million decibels louder. “It was a sold out performance?”

Thankfully, the tea machine was slightly louder when it boiled, the zebra just heard Dusk ask, “You have a tour deal? Fifty dates? Oh babe that’s awesome!” Figuring the phone call was going well, and that it was almost over, the large orange stallion placed Dusk’s cup on a tray and started to walk over when he heard…

“Yeah, I'm still in Manehatten. I'll see you when I ge...what!?” The very tone of Dusk’s voice made Caffeinated want to pause and turn around, but he was in the no-pony’s land between thee table and the counter with nowhere to go. So reluctantly he carried on. “You won’t be there, why?” Dusk demanded.

“You’re leaving tonight.” Caffeinated’s ears drooped with the Prince’s as he saw the pegasus visually deflate in front of his eyes. “Right I see. No, Vocal, no I understand.” There were tears brimming in Dusk’s pink eyes. “Y-Yeah...” he sniffled, “I…I love you too, yeah…”

In a bit of a daze, Dusk put his phone away as the zebra carefully laid his tea in front of him. “He…he isn’t coming tonight.”

“He’s going on tour right away?” Caffeinated asked gently.

“He signed a multi-million bit contract last night for him and the band.” Dusk uttered, staring deeply at the full teacup. “They’re leaving for Las Pegasus tonight and then on to Vanhoover.” Now Dusk’s voice almost broke as the tears in his eyes leaked down his cheeks. “He hopes I understand.”

“The world won't end if you want to skip a coffee shop mic night and go on tour.”

“Y-Yeah...no…” Dusk sniffled, letting the tears leave tracks on his fur, “He hopes I understand he's far too busy with this tour, record deal, autobiographies or whatever else to have a coltfriend.”

“Ah, so that's the rub then.” Caffeinated smiled sadly as he got it. “You've been traded for a star of glory. Sorry, I have nothing stronger here than my coffee.”

“Yeah...” Dusk wiped his hoof across his cheeks. “I'm happy for him, really.” He hitched up a wide fake smile. “See? I'm all happy.”

Dusk Midnight Melody let out a sigh as yet more tears splashed down his midnight blue furred cheeks, the hot salty tears leaving tracks of matted fur in their wake. “I’m happy for him, really…” Dusk had given up trying to convince himself he was fine. He wasn’t. So, now, he tried to convince himself he was happy, instead.

“Hey! You wanna look where ya goin’ plothole?” A mare yelled out just as the royal stallion walked into her.

“I’m fine!” Dusk shouted back. He was crying so hard he didn’t actually see the mare he had walked into on the sidewalk. “I’m happy! Can’t you see I’m happy‽”

“Damn Canterlot weirdo!” The mare spat back when, with no sign of apologising, Dusk walked on his way to wherever it was he was going.

Not that Dusk cared very much. He didn’t care whom was looking, or whom recognised him or didn’t. “Yeah...” Dusk wiped his hoof across his cheeks, matting his fur all the more than it already was. “I'm happy for him, really.” He hitched up a wide fake smile for nopony’s benefit other than his own. “See? I'm all happy.”

‘I'm happy for him, really…’

Except, except well, he wasn’t. Not really. Dusk Melody wasn’t happy. Not in the slightest. The truth of the matter was he had endured one of the most stressful Thursdays of his young life yesterday and right now, he needed a hug and a cuddle from his coltfriend. He needed a loving caress and a tender kiss, and a strong hoof around his shoulder telling him it would all be alright.

“I need you, Vocal!” Dusk blurted out, the effeminate stallion not caring who shot him puzzled looks due to his sudden outburst. He needed his lover, he needed that soft pale grey muzzle to nuzzle away his fears and worries, to tell him that no matter what, he was a good stallion. “Bu-But yo-you won’t now, will you?” Dusk asked nopony in particular, tears dripping onto the pavement beneath his hooves.

Caffeinated, to his credit, had tried in the coffee shop to offer his help, as much as he could. Sadly, earl grey tea only helped so much. Dusk scuffed his hoof on the sidewalk as he walked along. Was he going the right way? He didn’t give a flying feather if he was or not. The orange zebra’s words of comfort wafted back to him.

“So, are you back to the pond to see who you can catch next?” Caffeinated asked with a smile, “I can send you to a seedy bar in Soho.”

“Nah it’s alright I guess.” Dusk shrugged, that pit of melancholy opening up in his gut again, “I am happy for him, and I hope he gets what he wants. It’s just, last week we were talking marriage and now...I dunno…”

“Just last week when I mentioned marriage you both freaked when I asked who would wear the dress.” The orange zebra teased, “Though I guess it doesn't seem so funny now.”

“No...” Dusk again stared at his teacup. “I would've worn a dress for him mate, I really would.”

That did not help. If anything, that just made Dusk cry all the more. He walked into at least four more ponies on his way. A car horn honked twice, or was it two cars honking once each? Dusk didn’t much care. He didn’t notice or care that in crossing the road he had almost been ran over by two taxis. He didn’t hear what they shouted at him, which was probably for the best, really.

~ ~ ~

Brush Stroke lay snoring in his large Princess sized bed, green eyes closed and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth. The comforter lay strewn on the lacquered floorboards and the sheets were tightly would around his mid-blue body. He lay in the same aspect as he had for the past nine hours. He would’ve laid like he was for another nine, had his alarm clock not buzzed loudly, rudely awakening him from his slumber.

Groggily, through bleary eyes that screamed of the aftereffects of a night of excess, the thirty two year old earth pony stallion swept his red and yellow mane from his eyes and attempted to cancel his alarm. The plan was to go back to sleep. That plan was negated somewhat when he fumbled and instead of shutting it off, he knocked the clock off his nightstand, where it lay buzzing on the floor.

“Oh…horseapples…” he grunted after a further ten minutes of trying to ignore it, he admitted defeat and got out of bed. This was easier said than done, as he was rather hung over and a teeny bit sore. It took a further quarter of an hour to extricate himself from the cocoon of his blankets and bedsheets. At last, with the sun on his face, he was able to silence the alarm.

In a fuggy haze, he staggered from his bedroom and out into the hallway of his apartment. He was barely able to make out the white doors and tell them apart from the bare exposed brick of his walls. Groaning, the earth pony staggered past his second bedroom that he had converted to a studio in search of his bathroom. Once inside he caught sight of himself in the mirror. Mid blue fur was matted, his mane looked like it had been styled by a hurricane – ‘bed head’ was not the word – his head felt like workponies were jackhammering his skull and his mouth was as dry as Saddle Arabia.

“You my son, will need a lot of work before you can hold a paintbrush…” the pep-talk didn’t help. “Still,” he said to himself as he ran a bath, “That’s what I get for going to Old Cinch’s Bawdy House…” That thought in his head, Brush Stroke sank into a very hot bath full of rose and lavender scented oils.

“Oils…heh!” That thought alone made him chuckle, for it was his nickname. As the hot water worked its way into his tired and aching muscles, more and more of the night before came flooding back to him. Hours spent with cheap beer, cheap wine, cheap salt lick and even cheaper whores. Still, the stallions that Old Cinch provided were good, so in the absence of anything else, he kept going back.

Taking a very deep breath, Brush Stroke plunged beneath the surface of the water, at once soaking his face and mane through. While he was under, holding his breath, he reflected that was why he was sore. They didn’t call Red Velvet ‘Big Red’ for nothing. Finally, feeling better, he resurfaced and gulped in a much-needed lungful of air. “Can’t keep going back there, Oils,” he reprimanded himself. “You’re gonna catch something itchy, or worse, you’re gonna get a reputation…”

Getting out of the shower, he toweled himself off, laughing as he did so at how much like his daddy, Dandelion, he sounded right then. Brushing his teeth, at last getting rid of the taste of death from his mouth, he could almost hear his daddy’s voice in his head, telling him how disappointed he was in his son.

“Yeah well,” he told a much better looking reflection, “Not like I have anypony to wake up to, is it?” With a snort, he spat the toothpaste out and rinsed his mouth. Suddenly he felt a lot more equine than before. Now, all he needed was tea.

Thankfully, in his kitchen, now he was fully awake, he had some of his favourite tea to hoof. Oolong, a Zebrian import he found better than the Neighinese, was just what he needed to start the day. While it came in many varieties and flavours, he liked the sweet and fruity blend he always bought. It had that honey aroma that was just the thing to cure an Old Cinch induced hangover.

‘Hmmm, that hits every spot,’ he thought once he was sat in his favourite recliner overlooking Manehatten’s North Park from his pent house apartment. He didn’t even like Cinch or the Bawdy House, all that much. He didn’t really like getting drunk, either really. That was just a means to an end. As he sipped his stupidly expensive tea, the artist knew the drinking was just to forget about his other adoptive parent.

His dad, Starbright, was sixty, old, crippled and with a grumpy streak as wide as Equestria itself. He was an earth pony, an ex-Captain in the Equestrian Army. A natural healer, he had served in the medical corps. He had lost both his hind legs fighting in the Changeling War of 2001, when Queen Chrysalis and her army had invaded the nation’s capital city, Canterlot. As a result of his wounds and internal injuries, the old Captain’s health was failing recently, and in the absence of a coltfriend, drinking took the edge off knowing his dad didn’t have long left.

“Here’s to you, dad.” Brush Stroke smiled grimly and finished his oolong tea. With a sigh, he heaved himself from his recliner with the intention of fixing breakfast. That intention however was quickly and mercilessly squashed by a glance at the clock. 10:45a.m. “Ugh…I hate time…” he groused, knowing he’d already lost almost all the morning, he instead bypassed his kitchen in favour of his studio.

He had work to do, commissions to finish, money to make.

In his studio, the only room in his apartment to have white walls, he sighed. This was more than just his work space, it was his refuge from the world, from the universe as a whole. Nothing got in here, no phones, no TV, no radio, nothing except light from the full-length windows. Brush Stroke looked at his ‘in-progress’ stack ad sighed once more. There was at least seven half-finished canvasses leant against his wall. Landscapes all, he had one for Coco Pommel for her clothing shop, one for City Hall, one for the mayor of Manehatten’s private collection, as well as four others for his wealthy patrons.

Patrons and fame were not the problem. Inspiration, or rather, lack of it, was. As of late, Brush Stroke was finding he enjoyed his calling in life less and less. Painting was becoming less of a love and more of a labour. Still, he persevered because his dad needed money for the vast array of medication he was on. Twenty different pills and medicine per day wasn’t cheap.

“I need air…” he thought. Air, being outside, in the landscape he was painting, would clear his head. Hopefully, it would return his mojo, too, because he had zero skill in anything besides his art. ‘Still,’ he mused to himself as he picked up his collapsible easel, canvas for the mayor – a landscape of the North Park marble fountain – and his box of oil paints, ‘It keeps me in this lush apartment and my dad alive, who am I to complain?’

Fueled by imported tea and a desire to do right by his dad, Brush Stroke rode the elevator down to the ground level. At least it was sunny at the moment. He was hoping, as he crossed the road to the park, to get some solid hours in and get a wriggle on with his commission. ‘Then,’ he sighed despondently, ‘There’s all the others to do too…’ They all were promised to their respective owners by the end of the month, which was just a couple of weeks away.

Idly, as he entered the park, he wondered if Old Cinch would give him a job. With a laugh though, he squashed that idea. He did truly love his craft, even if he fell out with it from time to time. Brush Stroke laughed to himself at the frankly absurd notion of getting a ‘regular’ job as he carried his equipment through the park. He knew where he was going. The Trottingham native had walked these parks many times, and his destination was off the beaten track.

Quite why the city council had placed a marble fountain out here, where not very many ponies went, was beyond him. He didn’t really care, if he was honest. He was getting paid to paint it, not critique its placement. It really was a fine fountain. All marble, it consisted of a rearing pegasus mare stood on what looked to be the moon’s surface. Water shot out of little balls held on hollow pipes, made them look like shooting stars around the rearing mare.

Without looking up, Brush Stroke arrived at his spot, the same spot he always used when he came here, roughly a hundred feet from the fountain, the overhanging trees formed a quite pleasing natural frame. The artist got busy setting up his easel and canvas. That done he sorted through his paints and brushes.

~ ~ ~

“Five years…” Dusk muttered as his hooves suddenly touched grass. He assumed he was at the park, seeing as it was grass. And there were trees, and flowers and a bench, and fountains and other ‘park’ things going on. Those two words alone made the Prince want to further break down in tears. He’d been with Vocal Chord for five years. Five years, since he had been nineteen, since he had met him at the fun fair in Canterlot.

“Five bucking years!” Dusk screamed his anguish, though it did precious little to make him feel better. If anything, as he shut his eyes and cried louder, he felt worse, because when he closed his eyes, he saw her. He saw her, and what he had done.

Unable to fight it any longer, he slumped on the grass, ‘somewhere’ in Manehatten’s North Park. He guessed, wherever it was, it was off the beaten track, as the grass here was rather long and it came up his haunches, going a little way to obscuring his cutie mark. Not that he cared.

He wanted to be alone.

“N-No I d-don’t…” he cried, his tears falling here now too, “I want V-Vocal!” As much as he wanted his coltfriend – or, ex-coltfriend now, the more he cried. He wanted to tell him what he had done, to be told afterwards he was a good stallion, not a monster.

He did not see the mid-blue earth pony stallion set up an artist’s easel some distance behind him. As Dusk cried, he shut his eyes. He was completely oblivious to the quite spectacular marble fountain twenty or so feet in front of him, and the overhanging trees that gave it a natural frame.

Pink eyes clenched shut, he cried. Unbidden, thoughts of earlier the before day crept into his head. He could see them, the Wardens all thirteen of them, lined up on their knees in the care home’s dining hall, some were begging for their lives, some were weeping, while some had silently accepted their fate. He could see his mother walking up and down the line, or the thing that shared his mother’s body anyway, coldly pronouncing judgement and announcing their sentence. Try as he might he could see the Nightmare’s slit green eyes alive with vengeance as her long horn lit up and one by one the Wardens fell, their hearts magically crushed to ruin in their chests.

Dusk didn’t want to remember what came next. He knew well enough. Still the memory came. Last of the Wardens to fall was Amethyst Glory. Not once did she flinch or quail, not once did she try and run like the others. As the Nightmare fitted the blades to his wings she just knelt and bared her neck, not once looking away nor showing any remorse. Dusk blinked, those emerald eyes fixed upon him were full of hate, the mouse daring the eagle to strike. That look burned into his mind.

“I say!” Behind him, the blue earth pony artist, finally set up with all his equipment, saw the mare in the way of his painting. He had just squeezed out some oil paint onto his palette only to discover his view of the fountain obscured. “I say, you there, can you hop it, missus?”

‘Amethyst Glory, I pronounce you guilty of the willful neglect, false imprisonment, grievous bodily harm and torture of one hundred and forty seven ponies placed under your care over the space of fifteen years.’ Dusk Melody didn’t hear the earth pony. He heard his voice in his head, reading out just a few of the unicorn’s crimes. ‘Do you have anything to say before I carry out your sentence?’

Brush Stroke had everything in place to get started. He took a pencil in mouth and looked up, only this time, he saw he wasn’t alone. There was a midnight blue pegasus blocking his view, sat right in front of the fountain. He put the pencil back in its holder. “I say!” He called out, getting no response from the pony, “I say, you there, can you hop it, missus?”

Snorting out a breath of frustration, the artist stomped a little closer to the pony blocking his view. He wasn’t annoyed with the mare as such, more that he was a day or two behind with his commission for the Mayor’s private collection. His own fault, really. “I said, ma’am, can you please shift?”

Dusk shivered – he heard the stallion’s irate voice, but he didn’t think it was directed at him. He kept shouting ‘missus’ and ‘ma’am’, after all – he just wished with all his soul that his mind’s eye would show him something else. ‘Ha! Don’t make me laugh, colt. You don’t have it in you like she does…’ He heard Amethyst Glory’s taunting words like she was right there, on her knees.

“For the last time, love, can you please move your ass?” The stallion was now by Dusk’s side, not that the Prince noticed him any more than he noticed the wonderful scenery all around him.

‘You don’t have it in you like she does…’ were the last words to come from Amethyst Glory’s mouth as Dusk flexed his wings. He could still see the flash of the impossibly sharp wing blades, hear the swish of metal cut through the air, smell the sudden overwhelming coppery tang of blood that filled his nostrils as it fountained from the awful wound.

“Alright love,” the artist grumped, taking out a paintbrush from behind his ear and jabbing it sharply into the pony’s shoulder, hard, “I’ve asked nicely. Now, hop it quick smart, guvnor! You’re in my way!”

"Gah!” Dusk exclaimed, the effeminate stallion suddenly and abruptly bought back to the here and now by the incessant jabbing in his left shoulder. “What the hay! Ow!”

‘It’s not a mare…that voice…she’s a he…’ the artist attempted to process this, still jabbing the midnight blue pegasus in the shoulder with the pointy end of his paintbrush. Slowly, as he poked him, he glanced downwards with emerald green eyes and saw his sheath. Lovely, cute, and perfectly formed, it was there. ‘Oh…he’s cute!’

Dusk went back to studying the ground. He mumbled, “I'm fine...” through a very loud sniff that did nothing to hide his tears.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Brush Stroke shifted a little uncomfortably. He rather regretted jabbing the pony with his paintbrush now. “You may not have noticed, but I'm painting a landscape and it should be pony free.”

“I didn't notice. I'm sorry. Do you need me to move?” Dusk asked, wiping at his pink eyes with the primary feathers of his right wing.

“Well, it would be nice if you could be fine over there where I'm painting instead of being fine here.”

“Oh. Okay then.” With what seemed like a huge effort, the sobbing pegasus hauled himself up and he walked over to where the easel was set up. “My name's Dusk, by the way.” He didn’t know why he even did that, introducing himself, except the cute rugged earth pony was cute in a rugged earth pony way.

As they walked together, side by side, Brush Stroke was struck by just how much the stallion looked so much like a mare. “Brush Stroke, but only my dad’s call me that. I prefer Oils.” As he spoke, the mid blue artist returned to preparing his pallet, selecting the few colours he’d need for today and squeezing them from the tubes.

“Oils...” Dusk blinked away another sniff and looked at the easel as well as the pallet cutie mark on his well-toned flank – stop it Dusk! – “You're an artist?” ‘Oh well played, you idiot!’ he wanted to yell at himself, but he argued that it was probably a rebound thing.

Casually, Brush Stroke glanced down at Dusk's flank, his shapely, rounded flank and saw the cello in the moon cutie mark. “Takes one to know one. I'll hazard a guess that you don't paint.”

“No, no I don't. I play violin.”

“A good instrument.” Brush Stroke commented, he pulled his favourite pencil from its holder. “So, what has you in such a ‘fine’ mood today?” he asked, taking said pencil in his mouth and sketching out a rough outline of the main features of the fountain and the surrounding trees.

“My coltfriend in Canterlot left me.” Dusk answered simply, though he wondered why he told this stranger that so candidly. Then, he reasoned, he did ask. “I was with him five years. Told me over the phone just now that he didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

Brush Stroke said nothing until the preliminary sketch was done and he had put down the pencil. “Oh, I see. You’re that kind of fine, huh?” he picked up his large paintbrush to block in the general image of the fountain.

“Yeah. That kind of fine.” Curiously, in spite of his extremely maudlin mood, Dusk shifted where he was sat so that he could watch the artist work. With a few deft strokes of the brush, he had turned a blank canvas and some pencil lines into what was undeniably the fountain. “You're pretty good, by the way.”

A few more strokes of the large brush later, and the basic fountain was in place, ready for a smaller brush and the details that would make it truly pop. “It's a living,” Brush Stroke commented with a sigh. ‘Living’ was what it was. He was quickly losing his love for it. “Your accent says out of town.”

“Canterlot.” Dusk replied, watching with rapt attention now as the earth pony blocked in the different shades of green for the foliage of the overhanging trees that framed the fountain. “Yours says you're north of Trottingham.”

As soon as the foliage was blocked in to his liking, he turned to Dusk with a raised eyebrow, “Are you a detective for the Canterlot symphony?” he asked, now with a different brush he began skillfully working on the tree trunks and branches.

“N-No, I um, I meant it's a nice accent, that's all.”

Brush Stroke couldn’t quite hide the smile on his muzzle as he painted. ‘So, the cute pony thinks my accent is nice, does he? Hmmm…I wonder…’ “I rather enjoy it too. What brings you all the way out to Manehatten?” he asked, wondering what he was doing if his coltfriend – ex - was back in Canterlot as he started work on the shrubs and grass.

“Oh, well I'm visiting some friends that live out here,” Dusk answered vaguely. While he liked the look of the earth pony, he didn't feel the need to go into the whole royalty thing just yet. “I'm staying over with them on Stallion Island for a few days…” he trailed off when he looked at the painting. “That's incredible. It was blank, and a few strokes, and that tree looks like an actual tree!”

“Your coltfriend lives here.” He said, not really one hundred per cent listening while he was busy working in some basic detail on the grass.

Dusk Melody shook his head. “No, my coltfriend...ex, coltfriend, lives in Canterlot. He's a singer, in a band.” He blinked a few times as what the artist had said began to sink into his brain. “Did you mean, ah,” he blushed very hard indeed, “you?”

Brush Stroke almost dropped his brush, but he recovered enough just in time to finish the grass. “No competition then. Now to bring this to life!” Taking up a smaller, flat headed brush, he returned to work some shading and highlighting into the foliage.

“You know,” As Dusk decided to be a teeny bit brave, he scooted a little closer so that his charcoal grey tail flicked over Brush Stroke’s red and yellow one. He had just that moment remembered what Tempest had said back at Caffeinated’s ranch about scheduled rain. “We um...we should really be going, somewhere, inside ah, soon.”

“Yes, later.” Brush Stroke, entirely focused on what he was doing – namely adding details the fountain – didn’t pay his spectator the attention he deserved.

Dusk groaned internally. “No, ah...Oils, I mean going as in now, going.” As he spoke, he glanced up at the gathering clouds. Clouds that were getting steadily darker and darker by the second.

“Very good, you have a nice day.” Brush Stroke mumbled, brush held in his mouth and his green eyes zeroed in on his subject material. A few moments later, however, and the rain started. Slow at first, the droplets got bigger and bigger, splashing all around, a few hit the canvas.

“Wh-What the…” those two words had barely left the earth pony’s mouth when the sky opened up into a deluge. “What? What's this? No!” Frantically, Brush Stroke tried to protect the canvas with his forelegs only to smear it all the more. “This cannot be! The weather ponies should stop this!” After a few seconds of hard pounding rain though, he realised all was lost, and he sat on the grass. “It is now my turn to be fine!”

When Dusk saw the pout on Brush Stroke’s face, the green eyes on the verge of tears themselves, he very tentatively placed his foreleg around the earth pony’s shoulder. He didn’t care that the thundering rainwater was drenching his mane slick wet, he didn’t care his fur was already soaked in the first few seconds of the downpour. He saw and recognised a fellow artist in distress. “I'm sorry. I thought it was a fine painting.”

Brush Stroke was very glad of the foreleg draped around his shoulder, even if the stallion providing it knew nothing of why he painted, just why he was so upset. It wasn’t because his art was ruined – though that had a part in it – it was because he wanted the money from his art to provide for his dad’s expensive medication. “It now looks like one of those dreaded modern art pieces…oh well…” he slowly began putting away his supplies in his battered old case.

“You can do over, right?” Dusk asked uncertainly, looking from the pony to the canvas and back again. “Um, can I help?”

“Yeah, sure, though there’s not much to do unless you think you can collapse the collapsible easel.” Dusk did indeed tackle the easel, though having never encountered one before in his life – since junior school anyway – his attempts in the pouring rain was rather funny, taking him longer than it should. It was a funny moment, and any other time, Brush Stroke would’ve laughed. But his heart wasn’t in it. “Care for some tea? There’s one of those zebran shops on the west edge of the park.”

“Yes! Ponyfeathers, yes!” Dusk fluffed out his wet feathers, “I could really use some tea!” What he wanted to follow up with was, ‘Some tea with you,’ but he stopped himself at the last moment. While the earth pony carried his ruined canvas and his art case, the pegasus hefted up the collapsed easel onto his back for the walk across the now empty North Park.

Dusk Melody, a very wet and soggy Dusk Melody, sat at his table in the Laughing Pony Coffee & Tea bar quietly nursing his cup of earl grey while the rain pounded down outside. Across from him, sat opposite at the same table, an equally damp and soggy Brush Stroke sipped his oolong tea. The walk here from North Park, while not long at all, had been conducted mostly in silence.

The young Prince wanted desperately to say something, anything, to break the silence that had been like an all-encompassing entity since they had left the park moments before. The stallion with him was very, very attractive. Sadly, there was not a copy of ‘Romance 101: A Beginner’s Guide to Dating’ anywhere to hoof. “Ahem…” he coughed politely, “So um, you have two dads?”

It wasn’t much, but it was something, at least.

Brush Stroke sipped his warming tea, savouring the honey aroma almost as much as he savoured looking at the blushing stallion sat with him. He ignored the steady drip of rainwater from their fur that was making a puddle under their seats. The artist smiled, “Yes I do. Both earth ponies. My daddy, Dandelion has a flower shop in Trottingham. My dad, Starbright, is ex-military, Equestrian Army.”

“I have two mothers.” Dusk felt the need to reply, “My mum is a cellist in the Canterlot Philharmonic Orchestra and my mom…my mom…” he froze a little at that. He didn’t really want to divulge just whom his parents were just yet, in case this sexy, rugged stallion think he could use him. “My mom…works nights, doing a job.”

“Doing a job, huh?” Brush Stroke snickered, for that sounded like somepony who worked at a place like Old Cinch’s Bawdy House. “Gotta love a job. In answer to a future question, I’m adopted. From the Trottingham Orphanage at age four, or five, one of the two.” He cast a look around the zebra-owned café, fishing for a way to continue the conversation, now it was started. It was odd that he’d talk to a stallion, usually he paid bits and engaged in some unfulfilling sex. Unfortunately, the waitresses in their vintage frilly dresses, paper hats and roller skates didn’t offer any help. “You too, I assume?”

"Hmm?" Dusk made the questioning sound just as he took a mouthful of his tea. Quickly, he swallowed. “Oh ah, no, no I’m not adopted. My mum invited a gu-ah, friend, to join them one night. The result was me. I still see him, the stallion I mean, he’s in my life.”

“Lucky you,” Brush Stroke commented coolly, almost instantly regretting his rather icy tone.

“Oh um…I didn’t mean, ah…I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine,” Brush Stroke felt a little wretched. He’d made the cute stallion have an upset frowny face. It didn’t suit him, at all, especially when he had that sexy ‘wet mane’ look going on, combine that with the ‘stallion next door unremarkable but pretty’ prettiness about him, the artist thought this was a pony he could have some fun with. He reached over the table and laid his wet hoof upon an equally wet foreleg. “You weren’t to know.”

“Still,” Dusk blushed, the red tinge at his cheeks showing through his wet midnight blue fur. Around him, waiters and waitresses roller-skated to and from tables, carrying orders of food and drinks like they’d done this all their lives. Everypony was oblivious to the sparks and fireworks cascading inside him just as much as they were oblivious to the butterflies in his tummy. The hoof squeezing his foreleg was as hot as his tea. “I’m sorry.”

When Brush Stroke merely snickered at his predicament, Dusk mumbled, “I'm ah...rubbish at this, sorry.” Quickly he decided to change the subject. “You come here often, then?” Instantly, he wanted to take the foreleg that was being squeezed and facehoof with it. That was so lame! Even without a book to guide him!

“I do,” Brush Stroke nodded, his wet red and yellow mane looking more like a wrung out mop head rather than the sexy wet look he was going for. Oh well. “To enjoy the eye candy, and the drinks here aren't too expensive.” As he said that, a waiter skated past in a tight outfit as dated and frilly as the waitresses.

“You are a cute looking stallion.” Dusk Melody said, instantly his pink eyes went wide. He didn’t know where in Equestria that came from. Possibly the part of him nearest the hoof that was gently caressing his leg. Wait, caressing? When did stroking turn into caressing? Not that he minded.

“No.” Brush Stroke playfully shook his head, again sending his wet mane over his eyes and ever more water dripping onto the floor. “I'm handsome, you are cute.”

Dusk Melody set his teacup down and lifted his free hoof to his muzzle, hiding an extremely mare-like giggle before he took a very big brave pill and he tentatively brushed that cute wet mop of a mane from those sexy green eyes. “Oh, yes you are…” For some reason, Vocal Chord was very far from his mind as he gazed across the café table into those eyes.

The mid blue earth pony leant forward, extending the caress of his hoof further up Dusk’s foreleg all the way up to his shoulder. “So…Dusk, who’s feeling fine, were you just checking out the scenery in the park or looking for a bit of action?” He asked seductively, his eyes half lidded.

“Action.” Dusk couldn’t believe he had said that! That was so unlike him! ‘But…why shouldn’t I?’ he thought to himself as that hoof slowly slid up and down his leg. ‘Why shouldn’t I have some fun? I’m a free agent, besides I bet Vocal’s not worrying about me…’ Taking an even bigger brave pill than the one before, he raised a shaky hoof and awkwardly he caressed Brush Stroke’s foreleg. “Action. Definitely. With you.”

“Good choice.” Brush Stroke breathed an inward sigh of relief. This midnight blue pegasus pony was rather cute, after all. “You like art?”

Dusk took a long sip of his earl grey tea. Purely for nerve. “I like your art.”

“Ah,” Brush Stroke smiled. ‘Another groupie fan…’ was his first thought, but then he banished it quickly. This cute pony didn’t seem like the typical simpering fan. “So you know of my art?”

“I um, I don’t, much.” Dusk admitted with an even fiercer blush on his face than he had before. He wanted to combust and hide, run away or die somewhere far, far away. Celestia he was bad at this flirting! “And I love you...Ugh...it, I mean it!”

Brush Stroke simply laughed. “You can love my art, but it is far too early to love me.” Again he caressed the pegasus’s wet foreleg. “After all you don't even know me outside my art, and you don’t know that very well.” At that, he gave Dusk a wink. Besides, it was a bit hypocritical, wasn’t it? He didn’t know Red Velvet very well, but he still slept with him. “Still, I think I'll give you a chance.”

Dusk Melody was about to say something incredibly witty and no doubt spectacularly sexy and alluring. Sadly, before he could open his mouth – to no doubt insert his hoof in it – a caramel coloured zebra mare walked over to their table. A rather angry looking zebra mare. With a Laughing Pony paper hat on her head. “Oils!”

“Aaah…Geneve, how nice to see you!” Brush Stroke smiled at his friend, or, as near to a friend as he got. More, she ran the café, and was more or less friendly when he spent his bits in there. “She owns this fine establishment,” he explained for Dusk’s benefit.

“Cut the gumph, Oils.” Geneve, friendly as she might be, wasn’t looking too friendly at that moment. She let out a deep sigh. “I’m gonna have to ask you two to leave.”

“I say, why?” Brush Stroke grinned, “Is it because I’m here with this really sexy stallion, expressing our feelings openly?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, blowing a kiss to poor Dusk, who looked set to burst into flames. Their hooves were still touching each other’s forelegs.

“No, you dipstick!” Geneve facehooved, hard, then she clipped Brush Stroke’s ear, equally as hard. “You know full well I don’t care who you sit with. It’s because of that…” she emphasised ‘that’ and pointed her hoof down to the floor. Both Dusk and Brush Stroke followed her gaze and became aware of the ever growing puddle of rainwater underneath them. “You’re as wet as a seapony’s bathing costume, both of you. You’re a health and safety hazard, so, nicely, sling your hooks. Please. Besides, it’s stopped raining and you're both sopping wet. You need to dry off before you catch a death of a cold.”

Brush Stroke really couldn’t argue with that. Mercifully too, he noticed the torrential downpour outside had mostly abated by now, too. “Fine, Geneve,” he exclaimed dramatically as he got to his hooves and collected his painting supplies together. “Come, Dusk, we’ll depart for now. But,” he seized the café owner’s hoof and kissed it. “We shall return!”

“Go on, get out!” Geneve rolled her eyes, but nonetheless had a smile on her face at the artist’s antics. She liked him, and not because he spent bits in her shop. “Hey, Oils,” she said as Dusk once more picked up the collapsed easel, “The colt there looks sweet. Why not take my advice for once and try settling down with this one, huh?”

“Yes, mom!” Brush Stroke snickered and, ducking a well-aimed swipe from a caramel coloured hoof, led Dusk back outside into what was left of the rain, now just a slight drizzle in the early afternoon. Still, he had to admit Geneve had a point. Dusk was cute. He just didn’t know if he was ready for commitment, what with his work, and his dad’s health.

“This one?” Dusk asked, eyebrow raised, “What did she mean, ‘this one’?”

“Oh…ah, well, that’s just Geneve being Geneve, you know how these zebras are…” Brush Stroke waved his free hoof in the air as casually as he could. “They no speak the Equestrian very well…” Thankfully, Dusk seemed to buy that. Thankfully, because the artist didn’t really feel like going into his nocturnal habits at Cinch’s place. “I live in the building over there.”

Following where Brush Stroke’s hoof was pointing, to the multi-storey apartment block that overlooked North Park, Dusk noticed that the neighbourhood was old but very well to do with the landscaping and maintenance, it was clearly well kept. It reminded him of the middle noble’s quarters in Canterlot. “It looks nice. Old but a well-kept kind of old. I like it.” He walked along by the earth pony’s side. “So...this one?”

“Yes,” as Brush Stroke approached the main entrance, the door buzzed open.

The earth pony guard inside nodded politely when the two stallions entered the main lobby foyer of the apartment building. “Greetings, Mr. Stroke.” Brush Stroke simply returned the nod and, without a word, walked over to the wide elevator and pushed the PH button.

“Top floor, huh?” Dusk smiled when he noticed which button his – hopefully – potential date pressed. Unfortunately, as the elevator doors closed, he remembered just how claustrophobic he was. While all pegasi were affected by what was affectionately called ‘the pegasi’s fear’, some were affected more than others. Dusk Melody, as it happened, was very affected. “You go to the Laughing Pony a lot I take it?” he asked in an attempt to distract himself.

“I actually prefer their tea over the neighanise shops.” Brush Stroke replied casually as the elevator lurched into motion.

“Since being in Manehatten,” Dusk commented, staring dead ahead and trying to control his breathing, “I've grown rather fond of Stripes’ Cup of Java in the Times building.” It was no good. The walls were closing in closer and closer, about to crush him! He scooted closer to Brush Stroke, his hoof on his foreleg.

“The Times building near city hall?” Brush Stroke asked, his eyebrow raised at the sudden contact. While a little unexpected, it was certainly not unwelcome. “I've been there for an interview…” he trailed off, eyes wide. ‘Well, if that didn't sound pretentious, what does?’ “They didn't have a good selection of teas, but the zebra there told me about The Laughing Pony.”

Unmoving, Dusk squeezed the mid blue foreleg and nuzzled the earth pony stallion’s strong muscular shoulder. “Caffeinated's alright like that.” It was then that he realised just how intimate he had been. “I'm ah...ah...sorry, I hate elevators…”

“This one is perfectly safe.” said the artist in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, tapping a sign near the floor select buttons. “Inspected regularly.”

Unconvinced, Dusk didn’t let go. “I'll hold your hoof, if you don't mind, Oils.” Strangely, the handsome stallion’s presence was going a long way to keeping the walls at bay.

“On no, not at all. Not at all.” Brush Stroke had no qualms or objections to the very, very cute stallion next to him holding his hoof. His only objection was that the elevator ride was over way too quickly. He wished it was slower so as to prolong the moment. All too soon though, the doors opened to reveal the penthouse floor foyer. “Let's get you dry, shall we?” In the foyer, opposite each other, were two doors. On the left was labelled Brush Stroke, and on the right the door read Blue Quill. “It’s just through here.” Using his keycard, Brush Stroke unlocked the door and opened it, standing aside to let the pegasus enter first.

"Oh wow I like this!” Dusk exclaimed having not taken more than a few steps into the apartment. He was immediately taken by the bare brick walls of the expansive apartment and the nice pricey upmarket furnishings that were draped everywhere, from the faux leather couch to the seventy two inch flat screen TV hanging on the wall. “Reminds me of the green room in the Canterlot Royal Theatre…” Dusk’s pink eyes went wide. ‘Oh you arse! Up my own shaft or what?’

Behind him, Brush Stroke's eyes widened a bit. His first thought, scandalous though it was, was that here was a cash cow he could exploit – not for himself, but for his dad’s medical bills. Alright, and for himself. “You've been, oh, sorry, you did say your mom played for the symphony.” He blushed, while he didn’t know much about music, he knew not everypony just played at the Royal Canterlot Theatre. “I have a full bath in here,” he opened a door. “You can get cleaned up and dry.”

Poor Dusk had a monumental blush on his face as he murmured, “I first performed there when I was seventeen...I'll ah, thank you, for the bath, I won't be long.” He was happy to jump into the bathroom, if only to hide his blushing face. Brush Stroke however chose to use the master bathroom that was adjacent to the pit he called a bedroom to do the same and he was quick about it so he could make tea.

When Dusk Melody – eventually - reappeared from the bathroom (Brush Stroke had the time to not only shower but tidy up his bedroom, the apartment and make the tea in the time it took Dusk to have a bath) he had his charcoal grey mane styled and dried, his midnight blue fur cleaned and brushed, and he was straightening the feathers out on his right wing. “Thank you, for that.”

As the earth pony was pouring the hot water, he had to be careful as he almost scalded his hoof. Dusk was no longer a bedraggled soggy sobbing mess. He was a very, very beautiful stallion. “I’ll ah, I think I'll show you about while that steeps.”

Dusk noticed Brush Stroke as well. Red and yellow mane slightly damp and unruly. The sight momentarily took his breath. “Oh...oh you are handsome indeed, Oils.”

“Th-thank you, you, ah, look divine.”

“One tries,” casually, Dusk flicked his mane, folding his wings away and he walked over to his host. Thankfully, that brave pill he took in the café was still working, because from nowhere he kissed the artist’s cheek. “That was for the bath, it was most kind.”

Brush Stroke could feel his cheeks burn bright red, no matter how much he told himself he did not blush. “Ah, um, um…right, the tour!”

“I'm all yours, Oils. Lead on.” As it turned out, there was a lot of space in the loft apartment. The whole floor was U shaped in which he had half and Blue Quill the other. There was a master bathroom adjacent to his bedroom, plus store rooms and supply cupboards off of the studio area, and even a dining room across from the kitchen. The tour took in all the rooms, and the studio was last so Brush Stroke could gather the art supplies just inside the front door.

Inside the large white walled studio, Brush Stroke showed off the couple of complete personal works, which were rather old, but he didn’t admit that, and several incomplete commission works that were waiting to be finished. Dusk was taken immediately by one landscape in particular. One of the Celestial Sea painted from a hill overlooking the Horseshoe Bay and the Equestrian east coast. “Oh my...Oils, these are magnificent!”

‘If you only knew that was four years ago,’ Brush Stroke thought sadly, ‘when I still had my spark to paint. All he said though was, “Thank you.”

“I mean it!” The more Dusk looked at the painting, he fancied he could see Griffonstone on the shore across the Celestial Sea, as well as the crew on the sailing ships on the water. “It's like being there, looking at these!” The one in question was of a cityscape as viewed from across the river in Gernsy. “Are these the ones you're working on?”

Brush Stroke nodded. “That is another one for Manehatten City Hall.” Or it would be for City Hall, if he could be bothered to finish it.

“Another?” asked Dusk, an impressed look on his face, “You mean your art is there now?”

“Oh, yes in the lobby.” Brush Stroke replied, no trace of ego in his voice. “That one is to go across from the elevators on the main floor.”

“Well, colour me impressed!”

“Okay, I’ll maybe use a soft red for that.”

Dusk giggled, rather unused to this flirting business without a dating guidebook to help him. Still, as Rainbow Dash sometimes told him, go with the flow. “Perhaps my feathers, hmm?”

“Wouldn't that make it hard to fly?”

“If you coated all of the primaries, yes…” Dusk had a think, as he really did fancy this earth pony a lot, so much of a lot and to the burning depths of Tartarus with Vocal Chord. Why shouldn’t he be happy? Didn’t he deserve to be happy as well as the next pony? “So, what part of me would you paint?” he asked through lidded eyes.

Brush Stroke’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, “That's the problem. I just, I don't know, I'm in a rut!” he waved his hoof over the unfinished works waiting to be completed, “I have lots of work to do, but no motivation. I was trying to work on the mayor's piece, and then it…” he waved out of the window, “rained.”

“It was scheduled, I thought you knew,” Dusk scooted over to the despondent artist and he cuddled him, wrapping his forelegs around his neck. He took a deep breath as the brave pills were wearing off. “Would you um, ah, would you like to um, go out, with me?”

Pointedly, Brush Stroke did not push away from the cuddle, nor did he return it, but he did lean into the effeminate pegasus. “Where?”

Dusk held him tight, adding his strong powerful wings to the hug. “I'm going to an open mic night at Stripes’ coffee shop later. I'll be playing my violin, and I’d like you to come, as my date.”

“Isn't that like karaoke?”

“It is,” Dusk responded, straightaway picking up on the distaste in the other pony’s voice and loving him all the more for it. “But there'll be poetry readings, musicians playing, that sort of thing.”

“I'm not any good at that, but I'd...I'd love to hear you play.” Brush Stroke smiled a rare genuine smile, a smile that reached his green eyes rather than one that he plastered on his face. “Maybe you'll be my inspiration.”

“It's a date then?” Dusk asked, with a hopeful look on his face.

“What time?”

“Starts at four, till whenever, I think.”

“Seems a little early,” Brush Stroke commented, though he wasn’t trying to be awkward. “Will there be food?”

“There will be, yes,” Dusk replied with some surety, for he remembered Caffeinated and Mapper talking about the catering at the open mic night the day before at the zebra’s ranch. “There’ll be a buffet selection of things.”

“That does sound nice,” Brush Stroke agreed, “Do you need to get your instrument?”

Dusk shook his head, still unable to quite believe he had secured himself a date, all on his own! “No, somepony is bringing it for me later,” he responded, playfully kissing his nose.

“We have plenty of time, then, don’t we?” Brush Stroke assumed, rather naturally, that the friend that Dusk was staying with in Manehatten would be bringing it along. “I say, would you care to model for me?”

“I'd love to!”

Brush Stroke grinned, it was a grin that grew into a smirk when he glanced down at Dusk’s shapely feminine flanks. “I think I feel my inspiration returning!” Strange though, how his ‘inspiration’ happened to be down near his sheath area. As it happened, in his studio, he had purple chaise with gold trim. Still grinning, he moved his new model over to it and he proceeded to position and pose him upon it. Once he was satisfied, the artist painted the stallion just like he was a maid from Prance.

“I think I like being your model, Oils…” Dusk almost purred as he laid back in an extremely provocative manner, his left wing just covering his sheath while his hind legs were spread apart.

The painting, as it happened, either by chance or design, took up the rest of the day till they both left the penthouse apartment. The poses Brush Stroke requested of Dusk grew ever more provocative as the afternoon wore on, partly as he was trying to establish how far he could go. It turned out he could go pretty far. As things progressed, through the occasional tea and viewing breaks, Brush Stroke was getting more and more ‘hooves on’ in posing his model.

Dusk Melody, for his part, loved the very hooves on approach. It was just a shame he wasn’t more so.

Chapter 2 - I Just Wanted to See Your Face When she Walked In

Dusk Melody then entered the building with a mid-blue earth pony stallion as his companion. “It wasn’t that bad,” Dusk said, “just a bit of rain.”

His companion replied, “That rain ruined a perfectly good painting!”

Wildfire bounced, “I hear Dusk! Who is that with him?”

Tempest called out, “I’m glad to know some pony’s parade was rained on!”

Airmail added, “It was published in the paper, Dusk. I’m not sure who it is Wily.”

Dusk moved his companion towards the herd’s table, and tried to keep his voice low, “Please don’t make a scene here, these are my friends.”

“Fine,” the other stallion responded, and then to the group, “I don’t read the papers, but fair enough.”

Caffeinated came up to the table and dropped off Dusk’s cup of Earl Grey tea, “Help yourself to the buffet. What is your friend drinking?”

“Thanks Stripes,” Dusk replied gratefully for the tea. “Hey guys, this is Brush Stroke. I met up with him in North Park.”

“I’ll have a coffee please, black,” Brush Stroke replied to the zebra. “Hello, and please call me Oils,” he said to the group at the table.

Caffeinated left to get the coffee. 'Now I remember that stallion. I just may need to have a chat with him later.' the barrista thought to himself, now that he knew where he recognised Brush Stroke from.

Serenity walked up to the table and placed a single plate of food in front of Mapper. Mapper fed both herself and Serenity from the plate.

Brush Stroke looked around the table, “You have some impressive friends, Dusk.”

Omega looked the pair over, “Hello Oils, been to open mic night before?”

“No,” responded Brush Stroke, “but Dusk here said it’d be fun though.”

Omega laughed, “Welcome to the insanity.”

“It isn’t that bad,” added Airmail. “Just organised chaos.”

Sunshine walked in and saw Omega wave a forehoof. He walked over and gave the stallion a deep kiss, “Food now!” He then marched off to the buffet table.

Brush Stroke watched and smiled, “Organised chaos I like. Sort of like my workshop.”

Wildfire spoke up, “Hey D, who’s your new friend, and where is Vocal?”

Omega chimed in, “Yeah, how did his gig go?”

Airmail nudged Wildfire and spoke of over the noise of so many ponies, “Recital, Trumpet, and Requiem just came in. They went straight to the buffet table.”

“Will Tinkerer and Belle be coming?” Wildfire asked.

“No,” answered Snowfall, “Belle is working tonight and Tinkerer is with her.”

Dusk gave a soft sigh, “It went well, Omega. Too well as it happens. He isn’t coming, ever.”

“I’ll let Buttercup know. She covers entertainment,” Airmail said and added, “So, by ever, did you two have a falling out?”

“You can say that Airmail,” answered Dusk, “Vocal decided that the tour was number one in his life, and old coltfriends need not apply.” He welcomed the hug from Brush Stroke.

The three newcomers sat at the table. Requiem spoke up, “Hi Dusk.” She studied the other stallion as she thought she knew him.

Dusk asked, “Are we all here that’s coming?”

Requiem answered, “All but my husband, Longshore. Go ahead and do intros. I can fill him in later.”

“Okay then, this is Brush Stroke, but he likes the name Oils,” Dusk led off. “And this mare is my close friend Wildfire, whom I told you about.”

“Pleased to meet all of you, and it is good to put a face to the name Wildfire,” stated Brush Stroke.

“Just call me Wily,” she smiled.

Requiem asked, “Oils, don’t you have a painting in City Hall?”

Brush Stroke was pleased to be recognised, “Yes, I do.”

Sunny chuckled, “Oh, we have another celebrity.”

Brush Stroke blushed, “A minor one, for now.”

“Dusk, when is your mom going to get here with your fiddle?” Requiem questioned.

“She should be here soon,” Dusk answered.

“Your mom’s coming?” Brush Stroke smiled, “It’ll be nice to meet her. You didn’t talk much about her earlier.”

“No,” Dusk swallowed, “no, I didn’t.”

“Dusk, would you be interested in doing a performance together?” asked Trumpet. “I was thinking Trotskovsky’s Marche.”

Dusk nodded, “Yeah, why not?”

Trumpet smiled, “Should be fun, that piece goes well with the violin and Prench horn.”

“Should be awesome mate.” Dusk looked to his friend, “Wily, you reading during the show?”

Wildfire bounced at the table, “Yes D! I have a couple of poems ready.”

Longshore arrived at the table with a plate full of food and received a kiss from Requiem. “Contracts are a pain in my tail,” stated the stallion.

“Ah, my poor baby,” Requiem said with another kiss. “You can lie down on the couch and I’ll talk to you until it is all better.” That comment received laughs from several ponies.

A flash of turquoise light near the coffee bar revealed Luna and Octavia. Both dressed in their Gala dresses. Octavia wore a bridle and carried her cello case on her back. Luna carried a violin case and held Octavia’s reins in her magic. The pair nodded to Caffeinated and approached the herd table.

The noise level in the room dropped drastically. The knowledge that Serenity would perform was common, but to have Lady Octavia perform brought this night to a whole new level. Many started calling friends to encourage them to join the party. Brush Stroke stuttered, “T-that’s P-p-princess Lu-Luna h-h-here!”

When the couple reached the table Dusk spoke up, “Hi mum, mom, thank you for bringing my violin.”

“Mom!” said a shocked Brush Stroke. He looked between the alicorn and earth pony, “She’s your mom and she’s your mum!”

Mapper laughed, “Good evening Mistress Luna, your son’s failure to talk about you is an understatement.” She gave Octavia a good look over. “You’ve brought your Pet! How sweet of you. Shall she be performing?”

Luna looked over Mapper and Serenity and sighed, “Tie?”

Mapper nodded, “Tie”

Dusk was perplexed, “Tie?”

Luna looked at her son, “My goal was to out dress Mistress Mapper tonight. I have a feeling a sneaky zebra may have warned her.” She turned to Octavia, “You may answer, Pet.”

Octavia kept her eyes to the floor, “Yes Mistress Mapper, I was allowed to bring my cello.”

“Mistress Mapper,” Luna stated which drew the mare’s attention back to her. “My present to you for tonight. For my Pet’s sake I do hope she pleases you.”

“Junior Pet!” Mapper spoke with authority.

Wildfire was snuggled between Airmail and Tempest. Both were trying to get her to eat the veggie casserole after she found out it had celery in it. Now she saw her opportunity to escape. “Yes Mistress!”

“You have graduated to Middle Pet for tonight,” continued Mapper, “and do finish your food you took from the buffet.”

Wildfire’s ears drooped in defeat, “Yes Mistress.”

Mapper continued, “Now I have a complete set! Do you think if I combine them I’ll get an alicorn?” The ponies around her laughed.

Trumpet was star struck by the sight of Octavia, and he spoke to Dusk, “Think she would join us on that Trotskovsky piece?”

Dusk snickered, “Try stopping her, with her Mistresses permission, of course.”

Mapper looked at the stallions, “She came here to perform and perform she will!”

Caffeinated joined them at the table, “Good evening Luna, here is your lunar café, not on the menu, and Mapper, what is Octavia drinking?” Another hush fell over the crowd when they realised how familiar the barista was with royalty.

Luna interrupted, “Mistress Mapper, my pet has been bad, so if I might suggest Earl Grey tea for her.” Octavia let out a little whine and pawed at Luna’s dress.

“Very bad indeed,” Mapper nodded. “Mistress Luna, would you do me the honour of taking care of your Pet’s watering and feeding for the night?”

“Very good Mistress Mapper,” Luna turns to the zebra, “Earl Grey for my wayward pet.”

“Same as your son?” Caffeinated asked, “With steamed milk?”

Luna nodded, “That will be fine.” She noted that Mapper was feeding Serenity from her plate, and looped the reins over Octavia’s neck. “Pet, please fetch me a plate of food and put enough on the plate for yourself too.”

“Yes Mistress.” Octavia walked over to the buffet and started loading up a plate.

Caffeinated returned with a tray full of drinks. He put Octavia’s tea where Mapper pointed and distributed refills to the herd.

Luna held up her cup of coffee, “I normally drink it black, but I approve of this non-menu coffee.” The zebra simply smiled as he returned to the coffee bar.

“Shine?” Dusk asked. He only received his mom’s smile for an answer.

Octavia returned with a plate full and set it in front of Luna. The alicorn smiled, “Do drink your tea Pet before it gets cold.”

The grey mare did so with a grimace and hoped her wife would soon give her some food to hide the taste.

Caffeinated moved to the building entrance as he saw a white zebra enter, “Shangazi kahawa kuwakaribasha usiku.” His aunt’s coat was liberally sprinkled with grey and there was plenty of sliver highlights in her mane and tail. They gave each other a nuzzle and then he continued, “Angalia Mungu wa Usikuni hapa!”

The mare responded, “Lazima uwe utani kwamba hawezi kuwa!”

Both Luna and Mapper turned when they heard the Zebran spoken. Mapper broke out in laughter and Luna turned her attention back to the pink unicorn. Mapper controlled her laughter, “That’s Coffee Bean, Caffy’s aunt and High Priestess of the Hall. He is bragging about you being here, and she doesn’t believe him.”

Luna commented, “You do know I speak fluent Zebran.”

Mapper rolled her eyes, “I’d hope so since they worship you. Other than Thespy, the rest of the herd doesn’t understand Zebran. I just want to let them in on the joke.”

Caffeinated gestured at the herd table and watch his aunt’s eyes go wide. After a couple of minutes he finally nudged the frozen mare to move.

Coffee Bean did eventually move on unsteady legs. As she got closer she moved faster and fell prostrate to the floor in front of Luna, “Naomba huwezi kunipiga wafu Mungu wa Usiku,” the mare begged.

Caffeinated put a hoof on the mare’s shoulder, “Tu kuamka yeye ni nzuri na kuzungumza Equestrian.”

Luna smiles, “Please arise and I’ll be killing no ponies tonight. Caffeinated has spoken highly of his family.”

Coffee Bean stands, “Oh, please forgive my rudeness.”

Luna pats a spot next to her, “There is nothing to forgive. Please join us at the table. Caffy, fetch your Aunt a lunar café please, and a refill for me.”

Caffeinated does a little bow, “At once your Highness.”

Coffee Bean was in awe, “This, this is most unexpected Mungu wa Usiku, how may I serve you?”

Caffeinated called out from the coffee bar, “You could bring her the coffee.”

Luna watched the elderly mare seemed to fly to the coffee bar and put the tray on her back. She returned just as swiftly without spilling a drop. Coffee Bean set the tray on the table and hoofed Luna her drink. She raised the drink, “To the night.”

Coffee Bean raised her own cup and replied, “Ndoto Mwezi.”

Luna’s turquoise eyes narrowed, and she saw genuine fear in the mare before her. She had forgotten the zebra still revered her for what she once was. Luna tapped the cup and took a drink while she watched as the zebra took a long awaited breath and sipped from her own cup.

Coffee Bean coughed as the coffee and moonshine poured down her throat. “Forgive me.”

Luna lightly laid a hoof on Coffee Bean’s shoulder, “There are things that should not be spoken of in the open.”

Caffeinated, Thespian, and Topper joined the table. Caffeinated stated, “Everything is well in hoof and it is time to get the open mic going. Is everything okay Lulu?”

Coffee Bean swung a forehoof and stuck Caffeinated, “Angalau yeye nyuka wewe wafu!”

Luna again put her hoof on Coffee Bean’s shoulder. “Please Coffee Bean, I can accept informalities with friends, and nopony will be struck dead tonight.” She sipped her coffee, “Unless the coffee should run dry.”

Coffee Bean leapt to her hooves in a panic, “Je, una kutosha? Je, mimihaja ya simu ghala?”

Caffeinated hugged his aunt tight, “Please calm down. Everything is fine. We have plenty of coffee, just relax.”

“Forgive me Coffee Bean,” Luna said with a smile, “Your nephew’s life is safe, it was but a joke.”

Coffee Bean blinked a few times as she calmed down, “Kama wewe kusema, Mungu wa Usiku.”

Caffeinated released his hug, “Yes she said it, now sit down next to your Goddess and learn from her. And please, Aunt, speak Equestrian.”

The opening acts of the open mic are normally reserved for first time performers. The audience gave instant and honest feedback. Cheers and clapping hooves are loud, but so are the cat calls and comments for any unfortunate poor performances. Nothing derogatory was said, and it is all meant to be in good fun.

Mapper spoke up, “Well that was very entertaining. Any more of your relatives showing up tonight, Caffy?”

Caffeinated chuckled, “Cousin Leaf may show up to play her drums.”

Octavia took another sip of her cooled tea and grimaced. She looked to her son and opened her mouth only to close it. She then looked to Luna and Mapper.

Mapper didn’t miss what happened. “Junior Pet, you are on Free Time until I have need of your services. If you want food or drink you are dependent on the whims of Mistress Luna.”

Octavia let a smile cross her lips, “Thank you Mistress.” She turned back to her son, “Dusk, who’s your friend, sitting next to you?”

“Oh, right mum,” Dusk puts a foreleg around the earth pony’s shoulder. “This is Brush Stroke.” Dusk noticed that he is still too shocked to speak. “He likes to go by the name Oils.”

“Mistress Luna,” Mapper enquired, “do you have a favourite piece you would like Junior Pet to perform?”

Luna responded, “Yes, I’d like her to play Les Carnaval des Animaux. It’s a Prench piece.”

Dusk hugged his companion tighter, “Oils, this is my mum, and my mom of course.”

Mapper smiled, “Excellent choice. I do hope she has some stamina tonight.” Mapper enjoyed the indignant look on the mare’s face. “The stallions, Dusk and Trumpet would like her to join them in some sombre piece. I also plan to have her play to a poem read by Middle Pet and to a song that Senior Pet will sing.”

Luna waved a dismissive hoof, “She’ll do fine. May I inquire as to what your Pets will be performing?”

Coffee Bean muttered, “Nilidhani kungekuwa taa zaidi na chini ya majadiliano.”

Luna did a spit take and turned back to the zebra she saw cringe. “I like to chat over coffee so I fear there will be no lighting tonight, and your Equestrian is slipping.”

Coffee Bean bowed low, “Sorry, sorry, please forgive this silly mare.”

Luna leaned forward and kissed the mare’s nose which left Coffee Bean speechless. “I like silly mares.”

Mapper laughed, “Then you will truly like that one. Anyways, I’m having Middle Pet read the Jabberwocky.” She hoofed the poem in braille to Wildfire. “Study that Middle Pet and do not embarrass me.”

Wildfire took the sheet of paper, “Yes Mistress.” She ran a hoof over the bumps while Airmail and Tempest watched, intrigued.

Mapper continued, “Senior Pet will sing Ode to Joy. I have the sheet music to both, in case Junior Pet is unfamiliar with the works.”

Octavia sniffed, “I have performed both, Mistress Mapper.”

Mapper kept mental note of the infractions that Junior Pet would account for. “Middle Pet you are on Free Time until your performance. You have poems to read?”

“Yes, Mistress,” responded Wildfire, “I have two, Mistress.”

“Very good,” Mapper nodded, “You will perform those first so your voice is warmed up for the poem I want you to read.”

“Yes Mistress,” was Wildfire’s response.

Recital was whispering in Coffee Bean’s ear when the zebra mare leapt again to her hooves. “Yeye alifanya nini?”

Caffeinated face hoofed. Luna looked back to the zebra mare and smiled.

Coffee Bean pointed a hoof at her nephew, “Je, kweli kuwaambia mungu wa usiku alikuwa farasi mbaya?”

“Equestrian Aunt, Equestrian!” said the exasperated zebra stallion. “I did say that because she was a bad pony.”

“Bado wanaaishi?” Coffee Bean said with disbelief.

Luna again put her hoof on Coffee Bean’s shoulder, “He lives because I was a bad pony.”

Coffee Bean sat back down as she tried to comprehend what had happened. Recital smiled and again started to whisper in the zebra mare’s ear.

Both Luna and Caffeinated waited to see what Coffee Bean would do next.

Brush Stroke finally found his voice, “Interesting family and friends you have Dusk.” He turned to Octavia, “It is a pleasure to meet you Lady Octavia, and you Princess Luna.”

“It is nice to meet my son’s friends,” Octavia started, but she was interrupted when Luna decided to feed her again.

“We will have to talk more, Oils.” Luna commented before she turned to her wife. “I expect you to finish that tea.”

Octavia replied in a very subdued voice, “Yes Mistress.”

Omega ate off of Sunshine’s plate, “So, Dusk, you and Oils have hit it off? Where did you find this drifter, Oils?

Dusk nuzzled his friend, “Yes, we’re together.”

Brush Stroke saw the lay of the land and kissed his partner, “This little darling happened to sit in the way of my painting, and I asked him to shift it. We ended up talking.” He kissed Dusk again, “I do like his blush too.”

Omega chuckled, “Yes, he does blush rather well,” only to watch Dusk blush harder. “So, he didn’t play hard to get?”

“Is this an interview, Omega?” Dusk asked.

“Not at all,” Brush Stroke continued, “he was very interested in what I was painting, and I couldn’t shake him off.” He looked between the two, “Interview?”

Dusk commented, “This stallion is the political reporter for the Manehatten Times, and he has interviewed me before.”

Brush Stroke nodded, “Maybe I should start reading the paper.”

Coffee Bean let out a high pitch squeal and fell over with one forehoof raised in the air.

Caffeinated rushed over to her and with the aid of Recital and Trumpet help to get her upright. With a voice just above a whisper and a look of desperation in her eyes, Coffee Bean asked, “Wewe alimgonga yake?”

Luna, Mapper, and Thespian burst into giggles.

“I told you, Aunt,” replied Caffeinated, “she was a bad pony.”

As Luna laughed she gasped out, “He swings hard too.”

Coffee Bean took her nephew’s face in her hooves, “Sisi kamwe kuzungumza haya tena.”

Caffeinated nuzzled his aunt, “It never happened, no problem Aunt. Please try to speak Equestrian.”

Luna regained control of herself, “I don’t know if my bottom will let me forget,” The squeak from Coffee Bean was precious. “Son, when were you going to introduce us to your new coltfriend?”

Thespian excused herself from the table as Dusk winced, “Give me a chance, mom. I just met him!”

Omega laughed, “He doesn’t want Oils to slip from his hooves, Luna.”

Sunshine chimed in, “Besides, he is already at stage four. Meet the parents.”

Omega laughed, “Have you kissed him Dusk?” He promptly kissed his ray of sunshine.

Brush Stroke smiled, “Oh, he has, haven’t you love?” He leaned in half way to Dusk, who closed the distance to complete the kiss. Sunshine and Omega both clapped their hooves quietly.

Dusk looked at the stallion, “Many times once it stopped raining.” He turned to his mothers, “You’ve met him now. I hope you are pleased.” Luna nodded, while she may not know his works, the others seemed to think he is a good artist. Time would tell if he was good enough for her son. Dusk planted one more kiss on Brush Stroke, “I’m still hungry, do you want anything?”

Brush Stroke nodded, “Just fill a plate for the two of us.” He watched Dusk walk off to the buffet table, “He’s such a pretty mare.”

“Yes, he is,” Omega agreed.

“I’ve seen him prettier,” commented Luna.

Thespian walked past the table wearing armour and fake wings. “My turn,” she said as she walked past and onto the stage. The herd listened as she sang the ‘Rhine maidens’ Song’ as Flosshilde. Her performance was followed my much hoof clapping and cheers from the audience and herd.

“This performance is splendid,” Brush Stroke announced. As Dusk sat back down at the table he leaned toward Omega, “But not a patch on last night’s performance I gather.” His smile grew wider as Dusk blushed.

Omega nodded, “I’m quite sure I heard Thespian singing last night too.”

Thespian returned to the table. She left her armour and wings on. “I’m sure you did Omega. It is good our beds don’t squeak too loudly.”

Brush Stroke nuzzled Dusk, “Dusky was quite proud of it once I got it out of him. As I said, such a pretty mare.”

“Oh,” Omega smiled, “you’re speaking of his performance.”

Dusk grew positively hot next to him, “Yes, the four on one, I believe?”

“His performance was award winning,” commented Luna. She was happy to see Brush Stroke had to keep Dusk from crawling under the table.

“Well I did cheat a bit,” Omega admitted, “I did take two turns.”

Sunny added, “After the performance he proved just how pretty he can be.”

“Could we move along,” pleaded Dusk.

Brush Stroke gave him another kiss, “Yes dear.”

“Wildfire,” Caffeinated called out. Once he had the mare’s attention, “You’re up next after this act.”

“Thank you, sir,” she nuzzled her companions, “I got this.”

Airmail asked, “Do you need help getting to the stage?”

“I just need directions,” Wildfire responded.

Airmail and Tempest shared a look and Tempest whispered into Wildfire’s ear, “Okay, after you stand turn to your right. About fifteen paces will put you even with the stage. Turn left and the stage is about twenty paces away. There is a gap between the tables, but it isn’t a big gap. Stage is about one foot off the floor. It is ten by ten and the mic is front centre.”

Wildfire nodded, “I got it. Nothing to do but do it.”

Airmail added, “Go ahead to the first turn left and wait. Sonic will announce you.” She gave Wildfire a kiss which was followed up with Tempest’s kiss.

Wildfire stood up and moved to the spot. She really didn’t want to fail in front of the others. Sunshine smiled, “Dusk did look good in silver highlights, but with your fur you’d look good in gold highlights, Oils.”

Luna leaned over and kissed Octavia on a lighter bit of grey fur, “You’re my pretty mare.”

Brush Stroke laughed, “You may be right, but I’ll never be as pretty as this mare,” he said as he hugged Dusk.

Octavia moves to kiss Luna on the lips, “I’m not that pretty.”

Sonic’s voice came over the PA system, “Next up is Wildfire with some poetry.”

Mapper’s stern voice sounded, “Junior Pet will not embarrass the Mistress with disagreement!”

Octavia looked like she was about to cry, “No Mistress.” She leaned against Luna, “I’m your pretty mare.”

Brush Stoke looked to the stage, “Isn’t that your friend Dusky?”

Dusk watched Wildfire move her way forward, “Yes, and she is quite good at poetry.”

Wildfire held her wings in front with tips to the floor as she moved forward. She felt the chairs as she passed tables, and heard the comments from ponies who realized she was blind. She was worried at first, but none of the comments were hurtful. Just realization or encouragement. When she felt the stage she stepped up and move to what she though was the middle and turned left. Wildfire moved forward till she felt the mic stand, just a bit to her left. She took a moment to centre herself. ‘I did it!’ The mare smiled and her voice caught the first try, “H-hi, th-th…” Wildfire cleared her throat, “Excuse me! Hi, this is a poem called ‘Flying High’ and I dedicate it to Airmail and Tempest who helped me know what it was like to fly again.” Wildfire took a calming breath. Her braille notes were under a hoof, but she didn’t need them.

“Up I fly, Through the sky.
On eagle's wings, Soaring high.
Down below, Rivers flow.
Waving plains See me go.
Sun so bright, It's almost white.
My wings of gold Reflect its light.
In the air, Flies my hair.
Inside of me, Joy flares.
Gaze upon the sea. I think it's like me.
None can hold it. Forever free.”

She heard plenty of hoof claps and Airmail whistle. “Thank you, this second one I call ‘Wildfire’. It is for the herd of friends that have taken me in.

From the audience a pony called out, “Yeah, I’ve heard of friends.”

Wildfire snickered, “That’s good, do you have any?” Which was followed by much laughter. Once again Wildfire paused to centre herself. She did change paper just in case, but her confidence built from the audience reaction.

“I burn I bake I turn I wake.
Filled with the fire you set in my heart.
I can't explain my desire been there from the start.
Hot flame engulfs my brain I couldn't douse it if I tried.
You melt my pain forgetting the times I cried.
Does your blaze burn too, mine keeps growing.
Please tell me if you do for my seeds keep sowing.
You started me like a match faster than fast.
My soul you did snatch wildfire at last.”

More hooves clapped and Wildfire made it off the stage. She walked back through the tables with encouragement voiced in her ears. Once back she received a big hug from Tempest. “You’ve set my heart on fire.”

“Thank you Honey” she said as she returned a nuzzle. “What did you think, Pretty?”

Airmail led off with a lusty kiss, “They are as beautiful as you, and your beauty shines.”

Sonic called Recital and she excused herself from the table. Coffee Bean watched her go as she pondered all that Recital had told her.

“Those were lovely poems, Wildfire,” commented Dusk.

“Thank you D.” Wildfire couldn’t contain her glee, “And for more kisses like that I can read more poetry.”

“Sounds like some bed time reading,” added Tempest as the got in on the action.

“The Trotskovsky piece is up next,” Caffeinated informed the group, “and Mapper, I’ve added Octavia to your pet line up. Order is Earth, Pegasus, and Unicorn.”

“Thank you Caffy,” Mapper responded.

While Recital sang an original dark song about bullies and poisoned chocolates, the musicians readied their interments. When Recital left the stage, the audience were left pondering if they really wanted to eat the chocolates on the table. A hush moved through the crowd when the three ponies took the stage. Most ponies would pay hundreds, even thousands, of bits to listen to Octavia play, and here they were able to listen for free.

“Middle Pet,” Mapper inquired, “Are you familiar with the poem? You may take the notes with you.”

“I am, Mistress,” Wildfire answered, but she held the notes just in case.

Mapper smiled, “I found your poems acceptable, Pet, you may have a dessert of your choice.”

“Thank you Mistress,” Wildfire glowed with the praise.

Airmail asked, “Would you like your dessert now?”

“Only if there is chocolate,” Wildfire licked her lips.

Airmail lowered her voice to a whisper as the audience had grown silent, “After this performance.”

Luna’s voice could just be heard, “Make me proud my love.”

The three, being as they were, well versed in classical music performed the sad poetic symphony named Marche Slave by Trotskovsky flawlessly. The haunting music mesmerized the audience. When they finished there was a moment of silence before thunderous hoof clapping and cheers erupted.

As the three took their bows, Luna move her hoof over to Mapper’s, “I do love to hear my Pet play.” The alicorn wiped away her tears.

The group returned to the table and put away their instruments. “Junior Pet,” Mapper called out, “You have earned a dessert and drink of your choice. Do finish the tea first though, one should not be wasteful.”

Airmail stood, “I’ll get your chocolate love, and be right back.”

“Thank you Airy,” responded Wildfire.

“Yes Mistress,” Octavia said as she finished the nasty tea.

“What would you like Pet?” asked Luna.

“Milky coffee and a chocolate too, if it pleases you Mistress.” Octavia answered.

Caffeinated smiled, “One Celestia special coming up. Requiem, you and Longshore are up after this next act. Then it is my turn, and Lavender, you’re after me.” Caffeinated moved off to get the coffee.

Airmail returns with two plates of chocolate. “Here you go Wily. Luna, I heard what your pet wanted and took the liberty to bring it for her.”

Octavia smiled, “Thank you Ms. Airmail.”

Wildfire inhaled the delicious dessert, “Thank you Pretty.”

Luna kissed Octavia, “You did very well love.”

“All three of you did very well,” amended Thespian.

“Most true,” Luna agreed.

Caffeinated sat the cream with coffee in front of Octavia while Requiem and Longshore excused themselves from the table. “Baron, if you could pony the fort while I take my turn?”

“Of course I can.” Baron replied as he stood to see to the guests.

The herd watched Requiem and Longshore do a feisty ballroom dance on the small stage. The performance received well, and earned the pair much appreciated responses from the audience. Caffeinated moved onto the stage after the couple left. “Out of deference to our very special guest and to my Aunt, I will first read my poem in Zebran. Out of deference to the rest of you I’ll read it again in Equestrian. The audience laughed. Caffeinated did his first read through.

“Katika usiku sisi wanazurura Ni giza, tuko peke yake.
Hata hivyo mimi sina hofu kwa mwezi ni karibu.
Mwanga wake unang'aa juu yangu na wote mimi kweli wanahitaji kuona.
Mimi Bask katika mwanga wake laini ulimwengu mpya gani kuonyesha.
Amani na utulivu ni moja katika utulivu.
Mungu wa Usiku na mwanga wake upendo, mioyo kila mahali kuachiwa huru.
Bila wasiwasi au hofu ya kuishi maisha ya haki, na Mungu wa Usiku.”

Coffee Bean watched her goddess while her nephew read. She saw Luna’s eyes shine with moisture and smiled as Caffeinated then started his second read through.

“In the night we roam It is dark, we’re alone.
Yet I have no fear for the moon is near.
Her light shines on me and all I truly need to see.
I bask in its soft glow a new world does it show.
Peace and tranquility are one in serenity.
Goddess of the night with her loving light, hearts everywhere set free.
Without worry or fear to live life right, by the Goddess of the Night."

Brush Stroke commented to Dusk, “His poem is rather good.”

The loudest hooves clapped at the herd table, while the rest of the audience also showed their appreciation. In part because Caffeinated ran this event and made it free to attend. He passed Lavender on the way to the table. “Mapper, there is this and one more act before your Pets perform. Thank you Baron, I have the helm.”

“Stripes,” Dusk commented, “You came close to matching Wily’s reading.”

“C’mon D,” Wildfire exclaimed, “He did much better than me!”

Caffeinated chuckled, “Tie?”

Wildfire giggled, “Tie.”

Coffee Bean leaned close to her nephew, “Mimini fahari yaw ewe mpwa.”

Luna waved the zebra stallion over to her, “Your aunt is right to be proud. Thank you for the lovely poem.” She followed up with a kiss.

“You are most welcome, Mungu wa Usiku,” Caffeinated returned the kiss.

Lavender then proceeded to tell an utterly outrageous story about a cabbage and a motorcycle road trip which left the audience gasping for breath. Even Luna thought it was the funniest story since forever. “I do hope someone has a recording of that,” gasped Luna. “Tia so needs to hear it.” When the mare returned to the table Luna had her breath back under control, “Really, A helmet on a cabbage for safety?” Lavender took a little bow for a reply.

“Mapper,” Caffeinated stated to get the mare’s attention. “Your three are the last of the program. They follow Coffee Bean and after your group is karaoke.”

“Thank you Caffy,” Mapper nodded.

Dusk kissed Brush Stroke, “Having fun Oils?”

Brush Stroke smiled, “Not bad for a first date, Dusky.”

Caffeinated brought around refills, and whispered far too loud into Dusk’s ear, “How did the questionnaire go?”

Dusk choked on his tea and tried to slip under the table. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as Caffeinated walked off snickering.

“Oh, I smell a story.” Brush Stroke nuzzled the stallion that attempted to escape.

“No!” Dusk shook his head, “No story, nothing at all to tell.”

Wildfire laughed, “I’ll be happy to tell him.”

Dusk’s voice grew stern, “You wouldn’t dare!”

Mapper interjected, “Please refrain from ordering my Pet around. It’s not that I want to save you, Prince, but your story can wait till karaoke starts. Plus, I trust my Pet to speak truthfully.” Dusk grumbled, but said nothing.

“Aunt,” Caffeinated started, “It doesn’t look like Leaf made it, but Sonic has the recording.” He kissed the zebra mare’s cheek. “Do well.”

Coffee Bean took the stage and the audience gave her respectful silence least the Priestess cast some zebra curse on them. Sonic started the recording of tribal drums and Coffee Bean danced like a mare a third her age. The dance included a chanted prayer in Zebran. It was a prayer to Nightmare Moon seeking protection and good harvest.

Luna watched the performance intently, and listened to the words of the prayer. Too much history that she had tried hard to forget came to the forefront of her mind. The performance was flawless, yet Luna was uncertain what to think about it.

Mapper laid a hoof over Luna’s, “Treat it for what it is. A hope that you can still provide.” She watched Luna nod before she removed the hoof. Coffee Bean left the stage. “Junior Pet you are on stage for three performances. Do not embarrass me.” Mapper looked to her other two Pets. “I will say the same to both of you.”

“Yes Mistress,” Octavia and Wildfire said together. Serenity said nothing but did bow.

The audience went quite as Octavia took the stage for a solo performance. She began the Prench piece and her cello sang. To Luna, Mapper whispered, “You’d think she has unicorn magic.”

Luna whispered back, “Indeed, I think so myself.” Luna smiled at the flawless performance.

The audience erupted with hoof claps and cheers at the end of the performance. Mapper stated, “Airmail, be a dear, and lick the chocolate off Middle Pet’s face.”

“With pleasure!” Airmail announced as she went to work and quickly licked Wildfire’s muzzle most thoroughly.

“Middle Pet, make your way to the stage quickly now. Start your reading after Junior Pet does the intro bit of music.” Mapper saw Tempest started to whisper to Wildfire. “Tempest! Stop being a mother hen. She made it up there fine on her own the first time.”

Wildfire enjoyed the face cleaning and gave each of her mares a kiss, “Yes Mistress!” The diminutive pegasus followed the same path to the stage. When she stepped up on it Octavia gave a light tap of her hoof to let her know where she stood. Wildfire moved to the mic and sat down with a hoof hoovering over the paper. She was determined to do this and not give any reason to embarrass her Mistress.

Octavia begun to play and on cue Wildfire read the poem. She tried to be as dramatic as she could. The poem itself was rather funny though and it was a challenge for the mare.

A few moments into the performance and Luna winced. She whispered to Mapper, “She drops a note now and again. It’s the arthritis in her hooves.”

Mapper shrugged and whispered back, “I wouldn’t know. I listen to carnival music all day.”

Throughout the poem the audience laughed, and at the end they clapped loudly. Wildfire took a bow and left the stage and returned to the table. Serenity passed her on the way and brushed Wildfire’s flank with her own.

“She dropped two notes on that piece,” stated Luna, “and she will admit to it.”

Wildfire returned to the table, “You have pleased me Middle Pet,” commented Mapper, “you may have some of Airmail’s cake.”

“Oh, come on!” Airmail sounded upset, but both she and Mapper giggled.

“Yay!” said a happy Wildfire, “I get cake.”

Serenity walked onto the stage and moved over to nuzzle Octavia. “They judge us as individuals. Don’t get lost in my singing.”

Octavia nuzzled back as she flexed her sore aching hooves. “Very well.” Serenity moved forward to the mic. The audience was enraptured by their presence. Two of the greatest performers on stage together in a downtown coffee shop. They saw history being made. Serenity made full use of her three octave range to belt out the song, and Octavia used her cello to sing for her.

Brush Stroke commented to Dusk, “You could have sold tickets for a thousand bits a seat for this performance.”

Luna though listened with a fine ear and fought to hold back the tears as her wife dropped note after note. “She’s struggling.”

“You will have to forgive me for my punishment will be light,” responded Mapper. “This is too beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it? Still if she was doing it on purpose, I’d say don’t hold back,” Luna responded, “but she is truly trying her best.”

Mapper reached out a hoof to Luna, “I take it she can be quite naughty if she feels you’re being inattentive?”

Luna nodded, “She can be a hoof full at times.”

The performance ended and it brought the house down. So many texted the ‘I was there when it happened’ texts to friends and family. The pair left the stage and Caffeinated took their place. He waited for the crowd to calm down before he made his announcement. “Thank you all for attending. The mic is now open to anyone that wants to do karaoke. Please give your song selection or track to Sonic.” Caffeinated returned to the herd’s table. Ponies lined up to talk with Sonic. Some came this night for karaoke, but found much more.

“Mistress Luna,” Mapper led off when Serenity and Octavia arrived at the table, “I noticed how beautiful Junior and Senior Pet looked on stage, and I have to ask where you got Junior Pet’s gown?”

“Ms. Rarity was quite kind enough to make it for me,” answered Luna. “She is very generous with her talent.”

“I should ask Coco about it then,” responded Mapper, “she may be able to make me a near copy. I think it would look fetching on Senior Pet.”

Luna smiled, “There is no reason you can’t have her put on Junior Pet’s gown right now.”

“Ah, but there is,” Mapper spoke with a sly smile. “Junior Pet, how was your performance?”

Octavia stared down at her own forehooves, ashamed her body was failing her. “I failed, Mistress, I’m afraid to say I dropped five notes throughout the night.”

Mapper nodded, “Senior Pet, yours?”

Serenity looked Mapper in the eye, “I failed, Mistress, I missed a note.”

“Mistress,” interjected Octavia, “She missed the same note I did, and I believe th…”

Mapper cut her off, “You will not make excuses for Senior Pet!”

Octavia’s voice was sorrowful, “I have failed you Mistress.”

Mapper looked to the blind pegasus, “Middle Pet! I would have your opinion on Junior Pet and Senior Pet’s performance.”

“Mistress,” Wildfire responded, “I felt they were both excellent, I really enjoyed the show.”

Mapper turned to her wife, and Serenity spoke, “She tells the truth, Mistress.”

“Mistress Luna,” Mapper said as she turned to the Princess, “where will you be spending the night?”

Luna smiled, “I have not made plans, and mayhap you have a suggestion?”

Mapper thought out loud, “Should I punish them now or later, is the question.”

Luna shrugged her shoulders, “I see no harm in punishing them later, Mistress Mapper.”

“Caffy,” Mapper called out, “you up for house guests?”

Caffeinated laughed lightly, “Is there a time when I’m not?”

“Well,” Mapper’s grin took on a feral look, “there was that time when…”

“Yes!” Caffeinated interrupted, “I’m available for house guests!”

Mapper giggled with enjoyment at the zebra’s embarrassment, “Airy, Stormy, are you two up for another night at Caffy’s place?”

Tempest replied, “I’m free and clear for Saturday.”

Airmail added, “Sure, as long as you don’t keep me up all night.”

“Then, Mistress Luna,” Mapper spoke, “may I suggest you spend the night at Caffy’s. It would be better than any hotel.”

Luna nodded, “I would have to agree with you there.”

Coffee Bean looked to her nephew, “Mungu wa Usiku ni kukaa katika nyumba yako?”

Luna laughed, “Yes, Coffee Bean, I am, again. Your equestrian is slipping again.”

Coffee Bean announced, “Mimi kukas…forgive, then I’m staying at my nephew’s house too.”

Caffeinated smiled, “I love you, Aunt, and you’re always welcome.”

“This has the makings of a fun night,” Luna added.

“As for punishments,” Mapper’s voice turned serious, “If you wait too long they forget why they’re being punished.”

Luna amended her earlier statement, “Our Pets are intelligent, but I can understand your concern.”

Mapper nodded, “Yes, at least some of the time they are.” She giggled and then resumed her role as Mistress, “Senior Pet you embarrassed me with your performance! Remove your gown!”

“Yes Mistress,” Serenity responded and quickly used her magic to remove the fancy gown which left her wearing a rope harness and panties.

Coffee Bean said, “One sexy mare,” and when she saw Serenity blush she added a whistle.

“I fully agree with my Priestess on that,” added Luna.

Mapper looked Octavia over, “As for you Junior Pet. Your punishment will start now also. From now until dawn Middle Pet will carry you cello.”

Octavia’s eyes went wide, “But Mistress,” she said as stamped a hoof on the floor. Mapper’s grin widened as she waited to see if Octavia could dig her hole any deeper.

Luna came to her wife’s rescue, “Pet…”

Octavia closed her eyes with a soft sigh, “Yes, Mistress.”

Mapper smirked, “Spunky. So, Luna, will your son be joining us tonight?” Mapper spoke as if the pegasus wasn’t there.

Luna turned to her son, “Well?”

“Actually,” Dusk answered, “I’m heading back over to Oil’s place.”

“After I’ve heard the questionnaire story, darling,” Brush Stroke interjected.

Mapper laughed, “Middle Pet you have free time, as I want to hear this story too.”

Caffeinated barked out laughter while Wildfire also laughed with an evil grin on her muzzle. Airmail moved to a guard position between Dusk and Wildfire.

Dusk shook his head, “Mom, banish me now, please.”

Luna shook her head, “Hush, it’s a funny story.”

Wildfire raised her head high, “Well, y’know how Vocal Chord was his first coltfriend, right? D was so nervous about asking him out on his first date he went to Princess Twilight, his old teacher, for advice.”

Dusk cringed in his seat while Omega nuzzled his husband, “You’re going to like this story, Sunny.”

“Princess Twilight,” Wildfire continued, “gave him a book. One hundred one tips for the novice romancer, and he followed it word for word!”

Dusk tried to slip under the table, but Brush Stroke caught him in his hooves, “You aren’t going anywhere beautiful.”

Wildfire could only imagine how much Dusk squirmed, “He wrote out a seventy-five question questionnaire,” she laughed, “it was twenty-five pages!”

Dusk groaned, but Omega added, “It gets better.”

Wildfire tried to control her own laughter, “Dusk got a hot air balloon from the Princess, and gave the questionnaire to Vocal Chord during the ride.” Wildfire could no longer control her laughter as she finished, “and Vocal Chord took one look at it and tossed it over the side of the balloon!”

Brush Stroke busted out laughing, “Oh, darling that is priceless!”

Omega put his two bits in, “Should have arrested the both of them for littering.”

Dusk facehooved, “When will you stop telling that story?”

Wildfire continued to laugh, “When it stops being funny!”

Omega smiled and added, “I think it would be a fitting epitaph, ‘Wait I’m only on question fifty-two!’”

“Wildfire,” Luna snorted and giggled, “it will never stop being funny.”

Dusk groaned, “Thanks Twi…”

Caffeinated clapped Dusk on the shoulder, “Now you can proceed to question Oils without fear,” he snickered.

Dusk rolled his eyes, “I hate you all. Mom, seriously? Couldn’t you have banished me five minutes ago?”

Between her laughs, Luna got one word out, “No!”

Brush Stoke snuggled Dusk, “Smile darling, it was pretty funny.”

Trumpet spoke up, “Caffy, you going to want some moral support tonight?”

“Really Trumpet,” Thespian said, “You don’t think my husband can handle nine mares?”

Trumpet smiled, “It would be ten if I come over.”

Dusk looked at Octavia, “I think Trumpet just wants to hang out with my mum.”

“Well it won’t be eleven,” Brush Stroke said, “as I’m taking my mare home.”

Dusk nuzzled his companion, “I’m your mare now?”

“Of course you are dear,” Brush Stroke said with a kiss.

Mapper spoke up, “Your mare? You should dress her up nice. Lavender, yes, Dusk would look best in Lavender.”

“I’m not too sure about that,” Lavender responded, “Do you think he would look good in my Topper?” Mapper facehooved at a pun gone wrong and Lavender laughed.

Caffeinated spoke while the others groaned. “Sure Trumpet, we can play some cribbage while the mares hatch some nefarious scheme to doom us all.”

“As long as you have coffee,” Luna stated, “You are free from my nefarious schemes.”

Coffee Bean looked at Luna with a gleam in her eyes, “Tunapaswa mpango wa zaidi ya kutupa ziezi wa jua.”

Caffeinated quickly responded, “Aunt! Now is not the time!”

“Caffy is right,” Luna said as she lightly put a hoof on Coffee Bean’s shoulder, “my sister will have to wait for another time.”

Coffee Bean smiled, “I’m patient.”

“As am I,” Luna added and then she turned to Oils, “So, where will you be taking my colt?”

Brush Stroke answered, “My place is not far from the uptown park, Princess.”

Sunshine nudged Omega, “To bliss if he is a good pony.”

Baron asked, “On the west side?”

Brush Stoke answered Sunshine first, “I’m counting on him being a naughty mare first.” He then turned to the elder, “Yes sir, it is.”

Luna smiled, “Please, less of the ‘Princess’, Oils. We’re practically family.”

Omega nuzzled his husband, “Sing me a song, Sunny.” He watched the stallion get up and head over to where Sonic waited. “Your mare likes it rough, in case he hasn’t been confessing.”

Brush Stroke smiled as he watched Dusk blush, “Oh, does he now? This night gets better and better.”

“He does another trick,” Omega snickered, “but I’ll not reveal that one.”

“Well I do have all night,” Brush Stoke kissed Dusk and helped him to his hooves. The group said their good-byes as the pair left.

Chapter 3 - Your Past Need not Define Your Today

“Just how long were you going to string me along about your moms?” Brush Stroke asked Dusk on the sidewalk outside of Stripes’ Cup of Java. For once, the artist wasn’t concerned with the party they were leaving behind. For once, he was more concerned with his future.

Dusk too wasn’t thinking about his mother or his mom, or the Open Mic night that his friends were enjoying back inside. He wasn’t, as they walked along, seemingly without a destination, bothered about the chilly Manehatten night. “Until I was sure about you, Oils.” The midnight blue pegasus answered truthfully. “I wanted to be sure you wanted me for me, not who I was connected to. Plus I kinda wanted to see how you'd react.” He nuzzled the earth pony’s cheek. “Forgive me?”

‘That’s an interesting question…’ Brush Stroke thought to himself. He took a deep breath, a moment to think about his next words. “Thinking about it, I never realized the movers and shakers that went to that event. Baron is one of the many ponies I owe a commission to. The only reason I think he said nothing was because I was with you.”

“Hmhmm.” Now it was Dusk’s turn to consider what his companion had said. As a royal, of course, he was accustomed to attending high end events with influential and connected ponies. By now it was nothing unusual. “You were quite right you know. Ponies would happily pay thousands to watch my mum and Serenity together like that. What painting did Baron request?” he asked curiously.

“His rooftop garden with his wife, Snowfall, in it. Still, with you from Canterlot, I wasn't expecting to meet the parents on the first date.”

“That was frightfully naughty of me, wasn’t it?” Dusk giggled a very mare-ish giggle behind his hoof. “I suppose I didn't want to scare you away.”

Brush Stroke paused on the sidewalk a few dozen feet away from the coffee shop they had just left and let out a deep sigh. For once, the bright neon lights of Manehatten had no effect on him. For once, he listened to the music of the traffic in the city. It was nice, with Dusk. “I'm thinking the same thing.” He decided to take a chance and go downtown. “There is a place not far from here over on forty-forth called Trixie's.”

“Trixie's Place?” Dusk’s ears perked up at that. “I know the one in Canterlot quite well.” He draped his powerful wing over Brush Stroke’s body. “I apologise for not telling you I was a prince sooner,” he said with a giggle, allowing himself to be led along, though Brush Stroke kept to his thought as they walked, seemingly content to let Dusk ramble until they arrived.

And, ramble Dusk did. Sheer nervousness wouldn’t allow the young royal to keep quiet. “Still,” he said quickly as they turned onto one street after another, passing many neon-lit bars and clubs on the way, “There's nothing like having Wily as a best friend to get all my secrets out. She's a bit like immersion therapy…” he realised he was rambling on and at last, he went quiet, enjoying the nighttime stroll.

Once they had arrived at Trixie’s Place, and safely navigated the slabs of muscle that were the security at the door – a far cry from Old Cinch’s place – Brush Stroke, without comment, led his partner up to the first floor bar, which was a quiet zone away from the dance floors and the playrooms. “I'll have a double whiskey,” he said to the bartender, “and whatever my friend wants.”

Dusk scanned the menu and his eyes finally alighted on a safe option. He was still recovering, after all. “I'll have a Nyx Zero, please.”

That surprised Brush Stroke somewhat, when Dusk chose a non-alcoholic beer. 'I guess what happened in that café wasn't an act, then…’ the artist thought as he led the way, with his shot glass in hoof, over to a nearby empty table. “Nice safe neutral place,” he started, his tone solemn, “If you want to run, I won't stop you.”

“Oils, why would I want to run?” Dusk was understandably confused as he sat down on the empty seating pad opposite his date. He supposed this was technically still a date, given that they had been to the Open Mic just moments before. “I'm having a great time with you.” And he was, too. He hadn’t thought about Vocal Chord since earlier at the coffee shop, with Caffeinated.

“You are the Prince,” Brush Stroke sighed once more, his hoof stroking his glass, “and I am the rogue.”

“A sexy rogue, if I may say.” Dusk was amazed at himself for saying that. He put it down to all those brave pills he had taken during the day. It also helped that Wildfire, Celestia bless her hide, had spilled absolutely everything about him at the Open Mic. “Still, I think rogue is a bit strong, Oils.”

Brush Stroke was looking intently at his whiskey. He could virtually taste it on his tongue. “I know you are not after my fame and fortune,” he said, still studying his shot glass, “I'm too busy squandering that away myself.” He held a hoof up to stop the Prince from speaking. He had to get this out. “When I found out who you were, I saw my ticket to easy street.”

Dusk, his beer bottle held to his lips, narrowed his pink eyes, just a little. “Go on.”

The mid blue artist smiled, though it wasn’t a smile that reached his green eyes. “While you were off powdering your nose in the coffee shop, I had a nice and friendly chat with Princess Luna and Lady Octavia, and the both of them love you very much. They hoped I would be a good influence for you, and my thoughts of using you waned.”

Dusk Melody didn’t really know what to make of that. He was grateful, if anything, for the artist’s honesty. Honesty he could work with. “I'm glad to hear it,” he replied with a far more genuine smile, taking a sip of his beer, “because I'd very much like to have your influence on me.”

“It doesn't end there.” Brush Stroke continued, determined to start any possible relationship with a clean slate. “While you were showing your talent with that violin, that scary zebra friend of yours cornered me. He seemed to know all about me. I blame Geneve for that, who speaks better Equestrian than I do. After that chat I realized just how much I would hurt you if I wasn't up front with who I am. Funny how threatened you can feel when ponies, who never threaten you, talk to you.”

“Plus there's mom,” Dusk said with a playful giggle, “Don’t forget her. She'd banish you to the sun in a heartbeat if my mum didn't get you with her cello first.” He could see though, that his attempt at humour wasn’t going down very well. “May I ask why you thought of using me? You obviously have your own money and fame, you don’t need me.”

Brush Stroke laughed at that, though still the humour didn’t seem able to reach his whole face. “You were too busy starring at my flank earlier to hear what I said at the beginning. The more I put off my commissions the more my fame disappears. What money I don't send home I squander on booze, salt lick, and prostitutes. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Proper Playcolt, huh?” Dusk laughed, though what his partner had said sunk in and he connected a few dots in his head. “Am I to assume the money sent home is for your parents?”

The earth pony nodded. “My dad is a war hero from the bug wars.” He said by way of explanation, referring of course to the Changeling Invasion of Canterlot. “Why the place I have is affordable. Still, his current medical needs aren't being met, so he needs assistance.”

Dusk reached over the table and he had his hoof on Brush Stroke’s foreleg. Now it all rather made sense, and the Prince found he wasn’t mad, not in the slightest. “That's not such a bad thing to use me for, if you ask me.” he winked, “Now. I have a thing to ask you.”

“I'm in confession mode, so ask away.”

“Did you mean it, back at the coffee shop, when you called me your mare?” Dusk asked nervously, biting his lip. “The way you were at the Open Mic, it was dominant, like you were when you were posing me in your apartment. I um, I liked it.”

Brush Stroke moved a little and placed both his forehooves on Dusk’s own, looking him straight in the eyes. “To be honest, my head wasn't on straight at that moment. It is now. If you'll have me as your stallion, I'd be honoured if you'll be my mare.” He could see then, the effeminate stallion would make a beautiful, pretty mare.

Dusk leant his head down and he kissed the part of his partner’s foreleg just above the hoof. “I'd be honoured indeed to be your mare and, even more honoured if you'll be my dominant strong stallion.”

Brush Stroke blinked several times, his mind processing the fact that here he was, sat opposite a stunning pony who was giving himself to him, willing and eager to not only be his coltfriend but so much more than that. And it wasn’t even his birthday. “Is the zebra expecting you back tonight?” he asked hopefully.

“No. I'm all yours.”

“Please come home with me.” Brush Stroke said, the dominant part of him starting to stir. “I have a painting to finish and a new hope for tomorrow.”

“I'd love to,” Dusk leant over the table and breathed the word 'Master' in the earth pony’s ear, before kissing the outer edge and nipping it hard enough to make him flick it.

When Brush Stroke stood up to leave, kissing Dusk on the way up, the midnight blue pegasus noticed that the artist never once touched his drink while they had been talking. “Was the drink for if the conversation didn't go well?” Dusk asked with a gentle smile.

Brush Stroke nodded, leaving the full shot glass untouched on the table behind him. “It’s a drink called loneliness…”

As they left Trixie’s Place, Dusk Melody draped his wing over Brush Stroke’s back. “Then I'm glad you didn't need it.”

~ ~ ~

On the way back to Brush Stroke’s apartment overlooking North Park, a relatively short journey of no more than twenty five minutes that felt like hours to the newly submissive pegasus, the earth pony artist didn’t say a word. He was lost in his thoughts of how he was going to be the Master that his mare deserved. He deeply wished the MiAC store was still open. There was no better feeling than leading a collared pet along on a leash. He had to remind himself there was always tomorrow. Inside, once they had survived the harrowing elevator ride and were back in the apartment, the dominant stallion led Dusk silently through the living room area and over to the main bedroom. Only when they were both stood by the large bed did the earth pony finally speak. “Did you enjoy your date, my pretty mare?”

Dusk Melody blushed so hard that the red tinge showed through his dark blue fur. Partly because of the dominant, confident tone in the earth pony’s voice and partly because said dominant tone had both his wings and his modest stallionhood at half-mast already. “Yes Master,” he replied, his cheeks burning at being called a pretty mare.

‘Oh he is so adorable!’ Brush Stroke thought, smirking at the decent sized member that was slipping out of its sheath between the pegasus’s hind legs. The artist patted the bed with his hoof. “Up!” He ordered simply.

“Yes Master!” Dusk answered straightaway, his wings fluttering with arousal as he hopped up onto the bed.

“Roll over to your back.” Brush Stroke ordered once he saw that Dusk was laid on his belly. That wouldn’t do, to have all the fun stuff hidden away. Immediately, Dusk rolled over onto his back with his head facing the foot of the bed. Using his hooves, the mid blue stallion moved him a tiny bit so that he was centred on the bed. Trotting over to his closet, he came back armed with a set of yellow socks.

These socks in hoof, Brush Stroke worked quickly and efficiently to tie each forehoof to the corresponding bedpost. As he worked, Dusk Melody looked at each bedpost as Brush Stroke tied the hoof to it. Once he was done, the earth pony placed a tender kiss on his new sub’s muzzle. The last thing he wanted to do was freak him out. That said, he had wanted a dominant stallion. He could do that. “Check in, pretty mare.”

Testing his bonds, Dusk gave a brief little struggle and, finding that he was securely tied to the bed, nodded his head. “I’m okay, Master.” He confirmed, pleased to no end that Brush Stroke had been considerate enough to check in and ask how he was.

Given the ‘green’ signal, Brush Stroke smiled and began to move his way slowly down his sub’s chin, gently kissing and nibbling his neck and snuffling his way down to his fluffy midnight blue chest fur. Dusk squeezed his eyes closed to prevent him from murmuring in pleasure, his swelling cock back at a more than semi erect state.

When Brush Stroke eventually reached Dusk’s cock, he used his right forehoof to press it flat against his belly and then smirked as he watched it spring back up when he let go. “MmMmm!” the midnight blue stallion moaned as he squirmed, his shaft rock hard.

While his right hoof was stroking Dusk Melody’s hard member, Brush Stroke’s other hoof was now busy rolling his adorably heavy balls around, pressing on them just slightly. “Mmm!” Dusk grunted. ‘Oh wow...’ he thought, not daring to believe he was the one being dominated for a change. ‘Oh my! I love this!’ After a few moments of this treatment however, Brush Stroke interrupted his thoughts when he began lapping long slow licks of his hot wet tongue up and down his hard throbbing rod while his hoof moved down to his tail hole. Dusk didn’t even try to stop his whimpers and moans. ‘Ooooh...th-that’s his hoof...right there!’

Smirking at how aroused his new pet was, Brush Stroke decided to move up onto the bed proper and, spinning around, he straddled the effeminate stallion, going into a sixty nine position but making sure to keep his rear end elevated up as high as he could as he went down to take the cock into his mouth. “MmMmmMMM!” Dusk let out the longest loudest most mare-like moan yet when he felt for the hot wet mouth close around his stallionhood. Involuntarily at these sensations, he bucked his hips a little as Brush Stroke expertly lifted his head up before going back down again to his medial ring.

Moving with a deliberate, torturous slowness, Brush Stroke bobbed his head up and down his sub’s now glistening rod. It wasn’t all that hard a task, given the size of Dusk’s equipment – his shaft just reached into his throat. While he'd had larger, his 'mare' was more than adequate, for a pegasus. After a few deep bobs he pulled off of it and ran his tongue down his shaft from the flat head down to his tightened balls and began to suckle on one of them for a moment before starting to gently suck on the shaft again.

“AAaaaaAAN...” Dusk Melody moaned loudly as he gave up on trying to reach the ass situated temptingly above him and he slumped back to the bed. Brush Stroke continued to work in this way, alternating between sucking on his clit of a cock and suckling on his balls right up until he sensed his pet was close. Dusk was a moaning sweaty mess by the time a few drops of pre cum was leaking from the head of his shaft.

The very instant he tasted the pre cum on Dusk’s head, Brush Stroke stood up and hopped up off of the bed, a delicious idea in his head. “Well, that sure has made me thirsty.” Turning his back to his new sub he went over to the closet and he got out some short ropes then he returned to the bed and proceeded to tie the pink stallion’s hind legs to the other two bed posts. “Be back in a moment.” He gave him a serious look. “Check in.”

‘What...he's leaving now?’ Dusk thought through his pleasure addled mind and gave a pitiful, futile struggle. ‘I-Its ok...I'm in control, I can end this...but, I wanted this…he's doing this for me...’ with that thought in his mind he finally nodded his sweat covered head to let his dominant partner know he was good.

Brush Stroke simply smiled and nodded when he got the ‘green’ signal and without further comment he walked out of his master bedroom. As he made his way through to his living room, he smirked, knowing full well that when there’s no clock and you’re left waiting, time creeps in a torture all its own. He got himself a beer from the fridge and took the time to check out Canterlot’s classical music channel on the TV. Sipping the beer he imagined the torment his new lover was in, knowing that minutes felt like hours felt like weeks and months. He had fun imagining dragging his different sized paintbrushes all over Dusk’s hooves and feathers.

Back in the bedroom all alone and frustrated, left right on the verge of a wonderful orgasm, Dusk Melody couldn’t believe it when he heard cello music of all things drifting in from the living room. The effeminate stallion fidgeted on the bed only to discover what he already knew. He was completely immobile, and by the state of his little member, very aroused. ‘Music...hey what?’ He thought as he gave another fruitless struggle before giving up. He just wanted to get a hoof to his erect stallionhood. Stood hard like that it was taunting him.

On his couch, Brush Stroke gave it just long enough for him to chug the light beer he had gotten from the fridge. He judged it had been ten minutes before he put away the empty in the recycling bin and he decided it was time to go back to the bedroom. But, before he did so, he made sure to leave the music on to cover his hoof-steps on the hardwood floor and when he was outside the bedroom he stole a sneaky peek to see if his pretty little mare’s clit was still hard.

The dominant mid blue earth pony stallion was very pleased to see Dusk was laying there where he had left him, his mottled dark and light blue cock still nice and hard. “Now, that is staying power.” He smirked quietly as he trotted back into the bedroom around the bed and into Dusk’s field of vision. “One way to avoid punishment anyway.” He moved in onto the bed and licked his sub from his tail-hole up to his ball sack, grinning when the midnight blue stallion stiffened up and let out a loud moan, drooling profusely as he did so.

Deciding he’d teased him quite enough, Brush Stroke once more trotted over to the closet and picked out a tube of his favourite cherry flavoured lube. Walking back to the bed he settled on his knees between Dusk’s bound open hind legs and he used the toe of his hoof to liberally apply the cold substance to the tight ring of his anus.

The moment the cold cherry lube touched his sphincter, Dusk let out a cute little squeak that any mare would be proud of. That sissy squeak alone was enough to make the earth pony hard – if he wasn’t already. Brush Stroke reared up so that the royal stallion could see that he was indeed quite hard. Hard, and considerably bigger by a good few inches than he was. Lowering himself, he pressed the flat head of his cock against his tail-hole. “Check in.”

Dusk Melody trembled and shivered underneath his lover. ‘Oh, this is happening!’ He couldn’t believe it was finally happening. He trembled again, at the same time wanting it to happen and scared of it happening. He knew full well if he shook his head that Brush Stroke wouldn’t do it. He knew he was in control. He was in control. Nervously, as it was the first time with a stallion who wasn’t Vocal Chord, he nodded his head. After all, they had come this far, right?

When he got the ‘green’ signal for a third time, Brush Stroke blew his pretty mare a kiss and gently he pushed forward, spreading the midnight blue stallion’s anus open very slowly as he continued to push forward and enter him. “Hmm…nice and tight.” He commented when he paused at his medial ring.

“MMmmmm!” Dusk drooled even more, moaning like a mare in heat, it pooling around his face as he willed his lover to go deeper. He was very surprised. With a cock as large as the one that was currently buried halfway in his asshole, he had expected it to hurt, a lot, and the initial insertion did sting but nowhere near as bad as he had expected. Soon, after just five gentle thrusts, it had felt wonderful.

On the sixth thrust, Brush Stroke leant in and passionately kissed Dusk’s lips. Partly because he wanted so much to claim those pretty lips and partly to distract his mare from the seventh thrust. Bucking his hips harder, he forced himself in past his medial ring.

“MMmmMMMM!” Dusk’s squeal was muffled by the kiss, and once the ring was inside him he moaned even louder when Brush Stroke began to pump in and out of his tail-hole. “Yeeeeees! Buuuuuck me yes!”

Although Dusk’s words had been slurred and muffled by the intense kiss, there was no guess work needed to know what he had said – or screamed – and with another loving kiss, Brush Stroke picked up the speed of his thrusts for his own pleasure as he used the royal stallion’s sissy hole like he was rutting a pussy.

Full of lust and need, Dusk Melody moaned as Brush Stroke rutted him hard and fast. The artist carried on rutting him hard until, with an erratic thrust, the mid blue stallion hilted himself deep inside his mare’s anal cavity and emptied his balls, filling his bowels with his hot sticky seed. “AAaAH!” Both stallion’s screamed at the same time. ‘He just...in me...so hot!’

After staying inside him for a few moments, Brush Stroke’s ejaculate had diminished and, leaving Dusk with a rounded cum inflated belly, the earth pony slowly pulled out and reached for a towel to clean himself off. “Does my pretty little mare need her relief now?”

Immediately, Dusk Melody nodded very vigorously indeed, he almost came from being called a pretty little mare in that tone of voice. Smirking, Brush Stroke threw the towel on the bed. “You are so pretty begging me like that.” Dusk just blushed intensely and nodded even harder. He really wanted his relief now.

Grinning, but just to hide for now how very proud he was of his new lover, Brush Stroke straddled his bound mare again but this time instead of keeping himself elevated he sat down on his face, grinding his tail-hole onto his midnight blue muzzle as he leant forward and took his throbbing needy clit deep in his mouth.

With his Master’s asshole pressed into his face, Dusk took the hint and immediately he licked and swirled his tongue around his puckered hole as he continued to tease him by sucking and lapping until the whimpering pony was close to the edge again and, threatening to once again leave him. Only when Dusk moaned a begging moan did he go in for the kill to fill up on his seed, not wasting a drop.

As he came, and came very hard, Dusk screamed the loudest scream so far and even through asshole pressed into his muzzle, it was clearly audible. Brush Stroke didn’t pull off of the Prince’s cock until he had drank his fill. Once he had, he climbed off of his bound lover.

Smiling, full of pride at how well he had performed, Brush Stroke carefully untied the ropes around his hind legs and put them away in the closet. “Session is over, my pretty mare,” he smiled lovingly at the quivering pony on his bed. “Care to shower with me?”

“Uuuh...” Dusk didn’t move. Not straight away anyway. He was in a heady post-climax afterglow daze as he slowly came back down to earth. Stars and fireworks were still exploding across his eyes. “Oh wow...O-Oils that was...wow, just, wow!”

“Let's get cleaned up, shall we?” Snickering, Brush Stroke led his lover from the bedroom down the short hallway to the master bath. “You know I was going to push you till I found a limit. Next time, I’ll use my brushes…” He let that hang in the air as he pointed to the wide bathtub and getting together his mane and fur shampoos and conditioners from the shelf. “So, anything you expected and didn't get or got that you weren't expecting?”

As he got into the four stallion wide tub, Dusk giggled a most un-stallionlike giggle. “I wasn't expecting the break when you went to the living room...I was so ready to pop then and there. I was kinda expecting a collar though.”

Smiling, Brush Stroke got the shower going. “Innovation keeps the play interesting. Isolation is a part of the game and it was only ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” Dusk couldn’t believe that. “It felt like twenty five...wow...really, ten minutes? I didn't know what you'd do if I went limp.”

“Most likely try to beat a little life into you.”

“Heh...I was a little afraid you'd lock it down, not that that was ever gonna be a problem.” The midnight blue pony kissed Brush Stroke’s lips under the steaming hot water of the shower. “You had me so horny.”

“Lock it down?” Brush Stroke chuckled and playfully swatted his lover’s nose with a hoof. “You've read too many odd books.”

Dusk murmured something incomprehensible under the hot water as he felt the dried drool, sweat and semen be washed away from his dark blue fur and charcoal grey mane and tail. “I've never worn one of those before.”

Brush Stroke got under the hot water and snuggled up very close. “Will there be another time?” he asked hopefully, not bothering to hide how eager he was for this new relationship to work.

‘Now that I've had a taste of that, how can I say no?’ Dusk thought to himself. Having been given a hoof-hold into this marvellous world, he wanted more. A lot more. “I ah, I'd really like there to be another time, and a time after that…”

Dusk trailed off to a happily contented silence as Brush Stroke went to work using his hooves to wash his back, moving in sensuous circles down to his tail. It was so unbelievably nice having somepony wash him down like this. He was a pretty mare being cleaned by his Master. “I do believe I'd like that too, Dusky.”

“Hmhmm…” Dusk murmured blissfully in the hot shower water as he was kissed and he returned the kiss. “Call me your pretty mare again, I kinda liked that.”

Another kiss followed that first one, and Brush Stroke wrapped his forelegs around Dusk’s neck. “Stay the night with me, my pretty, pretty little mare,” he whispered in the effeminate stallion’s ear, “I'd like some cuddles.” Tomorrow, Brush Stroke resolved to take his mare to the MiAC store, where he’d buy her a collar and a few dresses to properly show her off.

Life was good, at last.