Eyes colored with dancing flames and just as warm gazed out the frosted window across a seemingly endless blanket of soft white snow. Her body trembled, the cold bit the tip of her nose and coaxed a shiver which reached the tips of her beautiful, sunny yellow feathers. Even within the confines of the Friendship Express, there was no escape from Winter’s chill.
Spitfire stuffed her hooves into her royal blue Wonderbolt’s snow jacket and huddled low like a turtle trying to hide within its shell. If a turtle’s shell could be puffy and blue, she mused.
Outside, the wind blew a cloud of powdered snow across the land. A phantom breath ghosted across the back of her neck, her feathers bristled in protest and held for a bare moment, then two … then slowly relaxed.
The train resumed its rapid journey, cheerfully rocketing the car from side to side as her mother once rocked her cradle so many years ago, completely undeterred by the cold. Whether mild snowfall and occasional gusts sweeping across the land or the heavy haze and howling winds of the early morning, its trip would not be stopped.
Much to her benefit.
“Good thing I didn’t try to fly all the way from Baltimare. These babies would be riddled with icicles,” she said to no pony in particular. Glancing at her wings, she unfurled them and spread her feathers wide to inspect her preening. Not a one could be out of place when she saw her princess again.
They were perfect, of course. Why shouldn’t they be after an hour’s labor? Soarin could go eat his heart out for all that teasing he gave.
“Lovestruck as a schoolfilly, my cutie mark,” she groused, a fond smile playing upon her lips. “He and Fleetfoot were so saccharine in their early days I could feel the sugar grains sticking to my teeth!”
And they’d only gotten worse over time. Much worse. How many times had she found their neckties or caps hanging over their hotel room? The very one they shared with her?
But, then again, she couldn’t exactly claim Soarin was wrong, either. He had, after all, witnessed quite a few of those warm smiles creeping across her muzzle as she poured over the latest letter her princess had sent, the rosy blush in her cheeks as her mind wandered when that scent of lilac, musty book pages, and ink wafted to her nose, and then dared to hug it close and close her eyes, imagining for just a moment that there was no distance between them.
That her Twilight Sparkle was there, in her hooves, not hundreds of miles away in that sleepy little town on the edge of Everfree.
Soon enough, she told herself. I’ll be with her again soon enough. What’s another hour’s wait?
Torture, really. Short by comparison to the three months spent apart since that kiss on the platform in Canterlot Station, but torture nonetheless. Like dangling a carrot just out of reach of a starving pony.
Being unable to kiss her gorgeous princess until those lovely mulberry feathers fluffed and a happy squeal tore from her throat was totally comparable.
Totally.
Still, she had an hour left to wait. An hour of nothing but the slight chill, an endless blanket of snow, and the gentle rocking slowly enticing her to rest her eyes for just a bit.
She flicked her fiery tail and shrugged. Why not? The night would certainly be busy enough.
Spitfire reclined in her seat and shifted about so her jacket would cover as much of her as possible. Her wings unfurled to wrap around her hind legs like a feathery blanket. Slowly, she let her heavy eyelids droop closed and breathed deep.
Before sleep could take her into its embrace, a thought came to her. One of a certain coy, smirking Princess of the Night who so delighted in her wordplay and innuendo.
“Swear to Celestia, Luna,” she grumbled sleepily, “if I dream about Twilight and you tease me about it at the Solstice Social, I’m going to spit literal fire.”
The chuckle that echoed about in her ears as she drifted off was purely her imagination playing a trick. It had been a long tour season.
And, frankly, her sanity could only take so much.
The shrill train whistle shook her to her bones. Spitfire grumbled a slurred curse, her ears pinning as she blinked sleep from her eyes. A moan built within her chest and gave itself voice in a deep purr.
Spitfire rubbed her forehead to fight off the mugginess clouding her head. Why did afternoon naps always seem to make her feel worse after being so enticing beforehoof? Perhaps Twilight could provide an answer. Backed by science, no doubt.
She rose, wincing at the stiffness in her muscles and joints—the products of years of hard flying and crashes in combination with the cold. The one thing she hated about the season. But the chance to surprise her beautiful girlfriend would make it all worthwhile.
Hopefully, Rainbow had managed to do her part. She certainly hadn’t received any packages.
Unless, of course, they arrived while she was in transit. That would be just a bit awkward.
Rearing onto there hind hooves, Spitfire reached up to collect her travel bag from the shelf, careful not to disturb the precious cargo within as she slung it over her shoulders and exited her compartment. Her hooves carried her swiftly through the train car, passed ponies of all ages, from elderly couples to young parents shepherding excited little ones on her way toward the open door. With a quick nod to the conductor, she stepped down onto the old wooden platform dusted with flecks of powdered snow and ice. She glanced up, grinning shamelessly as her eyes wandered over the old sign hanging above the door into the small station office:
Welcome to Ponyville
Her grin nearly split her face. “Hon, get ready. Spitfire’s home.”
With a merry swish of her tail, she stepped into the station office, her brilliant orange eyes scanning about like a hawk in search of Rainbow Dash. She didn’t have to look long.
Rainbow Dash stood, leaning casually against the ticket pony’s stand in her purple jacket, scarf, and snow hat, her typical cocky smirk playing upon her lips. As soon as her eyes met Spitfire’s, she pushed off the stand, her sky blue feathers fluffing, and trotted over. “Hey, Cap. How was the trip?” she greeted warmly.
“Long, boring, and a bit cold,” Spitfire replied without losing a bit of her smile. “But it’ll be worth it to see her again.”
“Darn right!” Waggling her ears, Rainbow jerked her head toward the open door leading out to Ponyville proper. Wonderbolt captain and top prospect walked out of the station and fell into step together.
Spitfire rustled her wings as a cool breeze ran through her feathers. “How’s she been?”
“Good. Twi’s been her usual egghead self, of course. No change there. We did finally get her to cut loose on drinking with us at Berry’s on my birthday a few weeks ago.” Rainbow snickered. “She’s such a bubbly drunk. And affectionate as a schoolfilly, am I right?
It didn’t take much for Spitfire to conjure up a good visual. After all, she’d witnessed it once herself. Twilight Sparkle, the princess of her heart, with a rosy hue coloring those adorable mulberry cheeks and a silly grin creasing her muzzle as she cuddled her friends, giggling at every silly little thing that spilled forth from her lips.
She snorted and shook her head. “Oh geez! I’m a bit jealous I missed that!”
“Eh, you got her first time.” There was a beat of silence, then a snicker. “In multiple meanings of the phrase.”
Spitfire turned slowly, a flat look bored into the grinning mare’s eyes. “You’re just begging for me to cash in on all this lip you’re giving me so I can make your life miserable when we call you up, aren’t you?”
“If it means I’m on the team? I don’t care. Make me fly as many laps as you want!”
Oh, rook. You just played my favorite song. Spitfire hid a smirk. Perhaps she could interest Twilight in joining her to take in the spectacle. It just might be good for a laugh at their favorite loudmouth’s expense. Until then, she’d just have to smile and bear it.
Though not without a dark chuckle of warning which, to her glee, spurred a visible shudder from her little pet project. Spitfire wasn’t so unsporting that she wouldn’t give some level of a hint as to just how doomed her next victim was.
Rainbow cleared her throat, quickly averting her gaze in favor of looking ahead and pointing. “L-Look! Friendship Castle, dead ahead!” she sputtered, a too-wide-to-be-true grin splitting her face.
Spitfire let it slide. There were more pressing matters to attend. Guided by Rainbow’s hoof, she let her gaze sweep out over the little-white-painted houses and straw-thatched hooves typical of the local style. Only a few buildings really stood out—one the famed Carousel Boutique, with its artistic merry-go-round design, a central two-story building she could guess to be town hall, and some sort of sweet shop decorated to look like a gingerbread house. All of them adorned with tinsel and glittering ornamentation depicting the fabled Fires of Friendship and the Founders Six.
However, the glimmer of crystal above them all drew her eyes like a moth to an open flame.
In the twilight, Friendship castle lived up to its princess’s very name. Though it did strike a stark contrast to those modest straw-thatched houses and the picturesque scenery before her, there was a sort of alluring charm to how deep sapphire and pale blue crystals shone against the orange and purple sky.
Orange and purple, with blue for contrast. How very perfect for the pair of them.
“Made sure she didn’t send your present in the mail,” Rainbow said softly. “She pulled a boatload of arguments as to why it made more logical sense to send it out early so you could open it on Hearth’s Warming Morning, everything about how she wanted you to know she remembered and all. I swear, your mare is more stubborn than me when she puts her mind to it.”
“I believe it.” Spitfire shook her head and laughed at the memories of her princess’s purple eyes flashing with determination and desire to hold onto what they had and try to make something of it. To try and make things work. “How’d you get her to give in?”
“Told her that it’d mean more if both of you exchanged gifts in person.” She waggled her ears again. “Also that she wouldn’t get to savor the look on your face if she just mailed it.”
Sunny yellow ears twitched. Frowning, Spitfire arched a brow. “That almost sounds like you expect me to melt in her hooves, rookie. Care to share what you know?”
Rainbow’s eyes danced. “Can’t! Sworn to secrecy by the bonds of a Pinkie Promise!” Her grin took on a dangerous edge. “I can tell you that you’ve got no chance, though. Doomed is an understatement, and resistance is some word that starts with 'f' that Twilight said but I can’t remember.”
“That so?”
“Daring Do would fall to this one,” came her solemn reply.
Curiosity demanded that Spitfire press for details. With a few minutes, she was certain she could have Rainbow Dash singing like a canary.
Then the mare who waited three months to see her Twilight Sparkle reared her head and boxed the impatient side of her over the ears. She would find out soon enough! Once she was with Twilight again, she’d have ample opportunity to pry and tease this little secret about her supposedly inevitable doom straight from her princess’s sweet lips.
And, oh, would they ever be sweet.
Besides, ma would almost surely tell her it was rude to keep a lady waiting when her certain doom was all planned out and wrapped with a neat little bow.
A low, throaty hum and lick of her lips betrayed her eagerness. “Well, there’s only one thing to do when your girlfriend prepares your doom, rookie.”
Rainbow Dash raised her brows. “What’s that?”
“Fly headlong into it and see if you can turn it around on her. Let’s go.” Her pace quickened, her heart hammered in her chest as she hurried toward her destination.
By the time her hooves touched on the shoveled path, the hard, cold dirt leading up to Friendship Castle, Spitfire would happily confess she was nearly prancing her way to the door. Privately, of course. Never to her nosey teammates, and Rainbow Dash had been warned under pain of having her wings for feather dusters against sharing the slightest hint of such with Fleetfoot or Soarin.
Not that it did anything to stop the mare from snickering, but she agreed to keep her mouth shut at least. Which was just about all Spitfire could expect.
Rainbow reached the door first, opening it with a quick twist of the knob and gentle push to avoid any squeaking hinges. She poked her head around and rubbernecked, no doubt scanning to make sure the coast was clear. After several seconds, she beckoned Spitfire to follow with a little motion of her hoof. “C’mon,” she hissed, slipping in without so much as a by-your-leave to anypony inside. “Keep quiet.”
“Not gonna knock?” Spitfire arched a brow. “Is this a Ponyville thing, or just—”
“Sorta, but this place also houses the new library, so ponies just sorta walk in and hang out here!” She gestured around the foyer. Sure enough, the circular room was lined with bookshelves, each filled to the very brim with books of all sizes, colors, and sorts. There was even a spiraling staircase leading to a second level up and another down, with a sign reading “HDN: 0000 - 4999 Downstairs, HDN: 6000 - 9999 Upstairs.”
And just as was the same all over Ponyville, Twilight Sparkle had made sure to decorate her castle accordingly. Each shelf was lined with tinsel of all different colors, wreaths hung over the archways leading to the halls, holly was twined around the spiraling railing, and, of course, a grand Hearth’s Warming tree, easily as tall as some of those houses they’d passed by, stood at the center of it all, yet unadorned with ornaments or lights.
Humming curiously, Spitfire flicked an ear. An interesting setup to say the least, as far as the library went. Sleepy little town or not, she half expected to see a similar setup to Canterlot Castle—some sort of gate, at least a small guard troop, and … well, the typical stuff. The décor, however, was quite traditional, and well done.
Then again, Twilight had made mention of being a librarian before she became a princess. Why wouldn’t she maintain such status?
But then, she noticed the twin hallways on either side of the room. Neither of which had any helpful signs to hint that Twilight might be found if she took a quick walk down the paths beyond them.
“Where would she be then?” Spitfire asked, keeping her voice soft.
“If Spike and Starlight are keeping he occupied like I asked, then they’ll be in her study pestering her about some magical whatsit.”
A magical whatsit. The only thing that kept Spitfire from rolling her eyes was that side that longed to see her princess. Rainbow had done her a solid, setting all this up and convincing Twilight to hold off on sending her gift, all while keeping her visit quiet. Ma would tan her hide if she spat in her face in return.
Not to mention, she’d feel like a bigger jerk than she’d been at Rainbow Falls.
“All right, then.” She smiled, nodding at Rainbow Dash. “Lead on to my brainy girlfriend’s study, Dash.”
Rainbow swished her colorful tail and guided her down the right hallway, passing by crystalline windows and sculptures of ponies of each of the three tribes, even a few smaller ones which looked like little dragons and—was that a changeling? It was! All the races of Equestria were well represented within Twilight’s castle. There were even a few griffons in the mix.
Friendship Castle, indeed.
When they reached the end of the long hallway, there was a single tall door made of solid oak. Rainbow nodded toward it, answering her question before it could be asked. She brought her hoof to her lips, miming a quick reminder for quiet, then grabbed the door handle and gave it a tug, gritting her teeth and pinning her ears as she slowly pulled it. A visible wince went through her at the little squeak of the hinges.
So much for sneaking her in.
With a low chuckle, Spitfire trotted into Twilight’s study, though not without shooting a wry smirk at a sheepish Rainbow Dash. “As organized as she is,” she murmured just loud enough for her top prospect to hear, “you’d think they’d remember to oil these hinges a little more.”
The room all but exceeded her expectations of what she might find in Twilight’s study. Oh, there were bookshelves upon bookshelves, some taller than the ones which lined the walls out in the foyer, and each seemed to be engaged in a struggle with the very laws of physics—specifically, any which thought to limit the number of books the studious princess could fit onto her bookshelves. It was barren of Hearth’s Warming decorations, however, all save for a miniature evergreen tree sitting in a planter to the left of a polished oak desk where her girlfriend sat with a festive holiday mug held aloft in the raspberry glow of her magic. On her right, stood a mare of pink coat and purple and aquamarine mane, with a young drake perched upon her back—Starlight Glimmer and Spike, Twilight’s student and number one assistant, if Spitfire remembered correctly.
Spitfire felt her breath catch in her throat as she watched the dying sunlight which shone through the window run down her lovely, gorgeous form—how it played over the sensitive tips of her ears, to each and every one of her soft, downy mulberry feathers and budding muscles along her wings, then slowly caressing her sides on its way to accentuate those hips.
Only the presence of the two other mares and baby dragon prevented her from easing the door shut and prowling toward her prey. Her wings positively itched to wrap around Twilight’s barrel and hold her tight while her hooves wandered and teased every inch of her squirming, writhing body and a flurry of kisses coaxed a heady moan from her lips. Or perhaps just a nice, long embrace to start. A chance to sit together and bask in the warmth after three long months apart.
By Celestia’s pinions, those three months might as well have been three years. When was the last time she had the chance to just stand and appreciate Twilight’s beauty?
Three months ago on the platform in Canterlot Station. She had been watching Twilight laughing through the window as the train pulled out of the station and a crowd of reporters and bypassers swarmed around her like a bunch of buzzing bees. Or perhaps more like sharks. Yes, like sharks.
And she was the poor sucker lost in the middle of the ocean, the sight of a kiss stolen from her lips serving as the blood they scented in the water.
Ah, yes. I do owe her for that one.
Her hooves carried her closer, her tongue ran slowly along her lips. With each step, her heartbeat quickened as an unabashed grin spread across her features and a sway of hips and tail, well-practiced, sensuous little dance, made its way into her gait. Doomed, was she? Not if she got her hooves around Twilight Sparkle first.
Starlight Glimmer tapped an idle hoof against the floor. “Anything?” she asked, her ears flicking, no doubt at the sound of a newcomer’s hoofsteps against the floor. “Anything at all?”
“Nothing yet,” Twilight replied absentmindedly, her eyes never left the page. Spitfire could almost imagine the little frown playing upon her lips. She sighed, giving her tail an agitated flick. “I think you might have to face facts—Spike might just be—”
“He isn’t,” the mare cut her off. “I’m sure of it. I know I’ve seen it in one of his books!”
Chuckling from his perch upon her back, Spike reclined so his head rested upon his claws, which were propped up on her hip. “Give it up, Starlight. Twilight and I did research on Star Swirl’s thaumatological proofs while she was still in school. There’s nothing in there about a theory of mass transferrence.”
“Forgive me if I don’t take the word of a baby dragon over actually reading it from one of Star Swirl’s texts. But I’m not going to let a biased source settle this bet, you little smart mouth! You’re going to be making those lemon squares!”
“She says after forty-five minutes of ‘what about this other book’ …”
Wrinkling her snout, Spitfire stole a look back at Rainbow Dash and raised a brow. Her star prospect waggled her ears and mouthed one word:
“Distraction!”
Nodding, Spitfire resumed her approach, just in time to see Twilight let out another sigh, this of irritation. Then, her horn flashed and the bickering pair yelped as twin bubbles caught them around the ear and gave them a sharp twist. “If you two are going to fight like hens, I might as well just teleport you over to Sweet Apple Acres! Applejack would probably welcome the help cleaning out the chicken coop, actually.”
The pair wisely took the course of silence. Starlight stole a quick glance over her shoulder, her eyes met Spitfire’s and ears perked. She made to speak, then seemed to think better of it, instead sending a little spark of magic to crackle before Spike’s eyes.
“Ow! What the hay was—” Spike stopped when he Starlight nodded over his shoulder. He turned to find Spitfire approaching, and promptly beamed, his earfins stood up straight.
Spitfire aimed a smirk in his direction, bringing a hoof to her lips before jerking her head toward Twilight and shooting both he and Starlight a wink. Then, she slunk up behind her princess, her wings unfurled in perfect pouncing position, tail lashing like an excited cat’s. She reared up, looming over the oblivious mare as she silently positioned her hooves to catch her in an inescapable embrace.
Her timing was perfect.
With a shake of her head, Twilight finally looked up from her book to fix Starlight with a tired smile, just as beautiful as the one she wore the very day Spitfire claimed her first kiss, and said, “I’m sorry, Starlight, but Spike’s right. I can’t find any mention of mass transferrence in any of Star Swirl’s thaumatology books. Honestly, I—eep!”
At last—at long last—Spitfire’s hooves wrapped around that lovely neck, her sunny yellow wings encircled Twilight’s warm body, and all four limbs pulled her in close for a tight embrace as her lips pressed into the crook of her girlfriend’s neck and she drank in that ever-enticing scent of lavender, musty pages, and ink.
Oh, how she’d missed that scent!
She nuzzled her way up Twilight’s jawline, trailing fluffy kisses along that warm, velvety smooth coat as she savored each and every little squeak her efforts garnered. A slow journey which ended only when her lips brushed against the edge of a delicate, delectable ear, which flicked at the hint of teeth upon its tip. She blew a cool breath upon it, purring, “Guess who.”
It was enough to make Twilight mewl and arch her back. “Sp-Sp-Spitfire?” she squeaked.
“Surprise, hon,” Spitfire whispered huskily. “Happy Hearth’s Warming.”
A shudder ran through her captive girlfriend, she could see the smile tugging at those lovely lips. Twilight tried to turn in her grasp, but Spitfire refused to relent. She’d waited far too long for this—the chance to hold and nuzzle and tease her to her heart’s content, happy reunion or not.
Though it did bring a warmth to her chest. Like that fire Twilight once said she found in her eyes.
Twilight finally submitted to her fate with a feigned grumble and duck of her head to hide a wobbly smile as she settled in. She tilted her head, laying it against Spitfire’s and drank in a deep breath before letting out a happy little sigh. For a moment, there was silence between them, broken only by the sound of their breathing and the drumming of Spitfire’s heart in her ears.
It was broken by an awkward little cough. Spitfire flicked an ear, her fiery orange eyes glanced up to find Starlight Glimmer looking at the pair of them with amusement written plain upon her face, but she at least had the decency to hide any sign of laughter which might threaten to burst forth.
Spike, on the other hoof, had all eight claws stuffed in his mouth, his cheeks filled like a foal who’d stolen cookies from his mother’s jar.
“Oh!” Twilight squeaked, her cheeks flushed a deep purple and ears pinned against her mane. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t—look, about the thing with—”
Starlight held up a hoof. “Don’t worry about it, not as important. We’ll settle this, ah, little spat another way.” She shot a look over her shoulder and grinned. “Won’t we Spike?”
“Sure!” he choked out through a snort of laughter. “We need to get things set up for the decorating party anyway. Food’s made, but we kiiiiiiiinda got sidetracked getting it all set out.”
“You mean, you got sidetracked by the argument. I was ready to get everything set up.”
Spitfire had to admit, they were certainly dedicated to their roles. Unfortunately, she wasn’t particularly interested in seeing just how long it took for them to make Twilight groan and banish them from her study. Another time, perhaps.
Instead, she simply raised her brows and glanced toward the door, toward a waiting Rainbow Dash, and made a show of tightening her embrace around Twilight.
Her message was received with the slightest of nods. “But that’s a discussion for another time,” Starlight added smoothly. “We’ll go take care of that now. Why don’t you two …” she trailed off as if she had a playful comment to add, but bit it back. Her grin was positively vulpine. “Relax and catch up for a bit? We’ll handle this—oh, Rainbow!” She feigned a gasp. “When did you get here?”
Rainbow Dash didn’t miss a beat, even as Twilight peeked around Spitfire to level a curious look in her direction. “I bumped into Cap while she was wandering through town, lost as a newborn puppy. Told her to follow me on over, and I figured you’d either be here, in your lab, or in the kitchen.” Before Twilight could question her, she pushed off the door and beckoned Starlight and Spike with a jerk of her head. “Come on, slowpokes, let’s get this taken care of before Twilight starts flailing at the time or whatever.”
“Excuse me!” Twilight cried. “I do not flail!”
“You flail,” Spitfire teased, dotting her cheek with a kiss. “But it’s endearing. And gives me something to work toward when I get to hold you like this and kiss you like—”
“Aaaaaaand we’re gone!” Rainbow called, all but dragging Starlight out and kicking the door shut behind her.
Snickering, Spitfire nosed against Twilight’s burning cheeks. Her feathers fluffing gaily. “Oh, Dash,” she muttered fondly. “Such a little filly at heart, wouldn’t you agree, hon?”
“Yes, she is. More than you know.” Finally, Twilight managed to squirm her way around so she was facing Spitfire. She stole a quick kiss to her lips, then licked her nose, sending a delighted shiver which left the vaunted Captain of the Wonderbolts wanting—no—needing more. Those brilliant purple eyes shone with love and jubilant glee. “Why didn’t you tell me you were planning to visit?”
“Thought it might be fun to make it a surprise. Dash was a lot of help on that front, actually. Keeps a secret pretty darn well.”
Mulberry ears twitched. Spitfire felt her smile grow to cheek-aching proportions as comprehension dawned upon her girlfriend’s beautiful face. “So that’s why she was so insistent I wait to give you your presents until we could meet up in person again! Ooh! You two!”
“Guilty as charged,” she admitted with a warm chuckle. Then her brain caught up. “Hang on a minute. Presents? Plural?” Spitfire wrinkled her snout. “Dash only mentioned one present. What the hay do you mean presents plural?”
“Oh, my! Did she only mention the one?” Twilight asked, her eyes glittering. “I must’ve neglected to share that with her. Silly me.”
Spitfire’s mind raced. She drew back, furrowing her brows in thought. Something about that look, the way those eyes glittered made her feathers fluff and heart beat like a drum, ready to leap headlong into the fray. And yet, there was just something about it that made her want to shiver and just …
Let herself be lured into whatever fate her Twilight had chosen.
Even her best piercing stare, guaranteed to make any mouthy cadet break out in a cold sweat within ten seconds, was no match for that faux innocent smile and fluttering eyelashes—yes, Twilight fluttered at her!
That alone was worth another shiver. “What did you do?” she asked softly.
“Are you going to tell me what you got me for Hearth’s Warming?” Twilight returned, leaning in to nuzzle her nose, a coy grin spreading slowly across her features.
“Not a chance.”
The glimmer in those eyes shone brighter than before. Twilight tutted. “Well, then, I suppose you, my dear, secretive Wonderbolt, will just have—” without warning, she darted forward and nipped at the tip of Spitfire’s nose, giggling at the squeak it garnered “—to wait and suffer not knowing one of my little secrets.”
Cursing, Spitfire rubbed her nose and tried to pretend her cheeks weren’t burning. That blushing, stammering little princess she’d teased until she practically melted in her hooves had taken to the game, the relationship itself, like a duck to water.
And may she be struck in the rump by a lightning bolt if it didn’t make her feel aflutter like a schoolfilly all over again.
She sighed, licking her lips. “So … Ponyville does the old decorating party too, huh?”
“I don’t know of any town that doesn’t,” Twilight replied. “It’s sort of changed a bit of late. We used to all get together at Town Hall, but ever since I got this place …” she trailed off, glancing around at her castle with a half smile on her face. “Well, apparently it made more sense to bring the party to the castle, both for the room and because of the authority.”
“Heh, that makes sense.” Pausing a moment in thought, an idea came to her. Spitfire grinned and quickly slipped her bag over her head and deposited it gently on the floor, then slid her way onto Twilight’s chair, close enough that their thighs brushed together. “Since they’re taking care of stuff and we’ve got a little time, do you wanna maybe get some tea or just stay here and … y’know. Enjoy this?”
Twilight’s hooves encircled her neck before she even finished asking. “We can have tea in a bit. For now, I,” she whispered, pressing their noses together, “am perfectly happy sitting right here with the most beautiful mare in all of Equestria. And after three months apart, I’ve got no plans to cut this short.”
Spitfire waggled her ears and planted a kiss on her lips. “Well, I don’t know how you could possibly be sitting with yourself, but I’ll take runner up. Otherwise, your wish is my command, Princess.”
There were a few things Spitfire found constant no matter where she travelled—good friends could always be found at the pub, Hearts and Hooves Day was not a day to try going to any restaurant, the Summer Sun Celebration and newly minted Winter Solstice Festival were days when everything shut down to pay homage to their princesses, and Hearth’s Warming Eve was all but sacred. With that, of course, went certain traditions.
The Hearth’s Warming Tree decorating party, to be specific.
Things were a bit different in the larger cities like Cloudsdale, Canterlot, or Manehattan. It just wasn’t feasible to have everypony in those big metropolises gathered in one place, even in Grand Canter Square or the Cloudiseum, there simply wasn’t enough room for such an event. In small towns like Ponyville, on the other hoof, that wasn’t the case.
Spitfire lounged on Twilight’s plush red couch, a mug of hot cocoa in one hoof with the other slung over the backrest, and watched as the towns ponies worked together to trim the great evergreen tree standing tall in the foyer. Her Wonderbolts snow jacket had been removed and now hung on the coat hanger in one of the closets somewhere, leaving her clad in a blue sweater bearing the familiar lightning bolt set upon a pair of pegasus wings upon the right side of her breast, and her name stitched in gold on the left.
Tinsel and colored light strands were wrapped around it in opposing spirals bound for the topmost branches, bright bulbs of all shapes and designs hung from metal hooks, as did a few little plush ponies and bears. Still to come, however, was the great gold flame which would stand proudly at the very top, a tribute to the Fires of Friendship which banished the ancient Windigoes and saved the Three Tribes from certain doom. The honor of placing it would typically go to the head of the little community or household where the celebration was held.
She wondered idly whether they would select Twilight or their mayor as she turned to entertain a few wide-eyed little foals, who all but stampeded over to either sit with her on the couch or at her hooves to hear all about what it was like to be a Wonderbolt. Or, rather, what it was like to be the Captain, the proverbial face of the greatest flyers in all the land.
One little foal of pewter coat pushed his way into her vision. “Have you ever crashed at full speed?”
“More times than I care to count. It’s never a good time.”
“I heard you run the Wonderbolt Academy,” a little pegasus Rainbow had taken the time to introduce as Scootaloo chipped in. “She says it’s super tough to get in, and even harder to make it through!”
“Yeah!” the cold added. “My brother went to the Academy!”
Spitfire’s ears twitched. She fixed the colt with a curious look, humming as she glanced him over. A slow smile began to spread across her face. “Thunderlane, I’m guessing?” At his nod, she grinned. “You’ve both got the same muzzle, though you’ve got nicer eyes.” Chuckling at the way he blushed and hid behind his wings at her praise, she returned her attention to Scootaloo. “It’s true, the Academy is very selective with who gets let in, because we want to train the best possible candidates so we can make them the best possible Wonderbolts in the future. It’s tough to get in, tough to make it through, and tough to last through the Reserve Program, but it’s all part of the process. Think of it as a really long math problem.”
The little filly pulled a face. “Ugh! Math? I hate math! All those stupid numbers and letters that are numbers they want you to find get so annoying!”
Oh, how many times had her ma heard her say those very words? All the way through primary school at least. Spitfire gave her a gentle shouldering and a reproachful hum. “Yeah, but all that math can help you do important things—like figure out how fast Rainbow Dash will have to fly if she wants to make it down a two-hundred length sprint in under ten seconds to get through our tryout circuit.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Spitfire knew she’d made a mistake. The foals’ eyes somehow went wider as a chorus of gasps swept through the tiny gathering. Scootaloo voiced their joint thought, “Rainbow Dash is going to be on the tryout circuit?”
It was all the warning she had before they crowded closer, their voices blending together into an unintelligible mass of excited babbling for their local heroine.
And though the flurry of questions came fast and furious as an all-day presser, she certainly didn’t miss the gleeful glitter of Twilight’s eyes whenever they mat gazes, nor the way those mulberry feathers fluffed.
Her princess was enjoying this far too much. Why it was almost as if she expected Spitfire to get cozy in this little town! Smugness, on top of that certainty in her alleged doom, when it came time to unwrap gifts! It just wouldn’t do.
Never one to simply sit and take her lumps, Spitfire leapt into action—quite literally. She kicked off the couch and, with a flap of her mighty wings, took to the air, flipping over the awestruck foals and landing nimbly on her three free hooves. Not even a drop of cocoa spilled from her mug. Eat your heart out, Firestorm. you slob. Aloud, she said, “Sorry, kids! That’s all the time we have! I’ve got a princess to romance and pester!” She quickly weaved her way through the crowd before they could give chase, ducking under an errant hoof as a giggling Pinkie Pie in a wool-knit sweater tugged a blushing stallion in a green and red scarf toward the doorway leading toward the kitchen.
One of the doorways she’d noticed Pinkie Pie discretely planting an insidious sprig of mistletoe a couple hours earlier. Cute.
Cloudsdale or Ponyville, some things just never changed. And why should they?
Perhaps she could concoct her own little scheme to get Twilight under the mistletoe soon enough. Though maybe not so inconspicuously. Something to consider once she got her hooves around the gorgeous princess standing just a few paces before her, idly swishing that neatly groomed tail to give a teasing glimpse of her shapely rump.
Down girl. This is behaving time, she scolded herself despite the purr which built in her chest and gave itself voice in a heady rumble as she closed in on her target. Spitfire set her mug down upon a nearby table and swooped in on Twilight, catching her around the barrel and earning a startled yelped as she pulled her into a tight hug, then leaned up to nuzzle beneath her ear and whisper, “What’s got you looking so smug and knowing today, hon?”
Though she squirmed in Spitfire’s grasp, Twilight leaned into her touch and planted a kiss on her nose. “Can’t I be happy watching you have a good time with the ponies in town?”
“Point. But we can’t have you be the smirking one. That’s my job. You, on the other hoof, are the squirming one.” A kiss beneath her girlfriend’s jaw spurred a squeal. “There we go, the balance is restored, and all is right in the world.”
Rather than pout or puff up her cheeks as she would have a few months prior, Twilight smirked. The glimmer in her eyes returned in full force. “So you think,” came her reply. “But you’ll find it to be a rather pyrrhic victory soon enough.”
The shudder which ran down her spine was one part excitement, two parts anticipation. “Oh, will I?”
“As a matter of fact—” another kiss stolen, this time to her lips, then followed by a playful nibble “—yes.” Twilight waggled her ears and nosed against Spitfire’s cheek. “Now put me down, you silly mare. It’s almost time to put the flame on top, and then everypony’s passing out presents.”
Spitfire laughed, squeezing her tight a moment longer. “Right, right. Wouldn’t want to delay that.” Satisfied for the time being, she released her embrace, hurrying Twilight forward with a playful little flick of her sunny feathers across her left flank. “Get your rear moving before I change my mind and make ‘em wait, hon.”
A playful glare was sent in reply, ruined by the tugging at either corner of Twilight’s mouth. With a little huff and lashing of her tail, the Princess of Friendship trotted over to where Rainbow Dash and Applejack stood alongside a mare of tan coat and graying mane—Mayor Mare if Spitfire recalled correctly. It had been a while since getting those forms cleared for tornado day.
The mayor held the gold flame in one hoof, lights glinting off its pristinely polished surface as if it were Princess Celestia’s regalia. She turned and gave a single nod to Rainbow Dash, who grinned and shot into the air, her hooves cupped to her mouth as she let out a shrill whistle that made the hairs on on the back of Spitfire’s neck stand on edge.
Hurricane’s helm! That mare could make a diamond dog’s ears bleed!
It managed to get everypony’s attention, though and brought all conversation and laughter to a screeching halt. Satisfied with her efforts, Rainbow landed beside Applejack, buffing a hoof upon her chest before beaming at Mayor Mare.
“Thank you, Rainbow.” Nodding in thanks, the mayor turned to address the crowd. Her eyes shone with joy behind her thick-rimmed glasses. “Hello, everypony, and happy Hearth’s Warming to all of you.”
A rumble of “happy Hearth’s Warming, mayor” swept through the crowd. Even Spitfire joined in, albeit at a bit of an awkward murmur. Like a stranger invited off the street to take part in some big family gathering.
Mayor Mare continued on, “We’ve all had a wonderful year together in our little town, even if it’s been busier and a bit noisier than ever before with our newest and now second youngest princess slowly taking on bigger roles in Equestrian government,” she paused a moment to aim a teasing smile at Twilight as a wave of laughter met her comment. “But I, personally, wouldn’t change any of it. Well, perhaps aside from our favorite little terrors crashing their latest contraption through my office window last week.”
“Hey!” a trio of little fillies, Scootaloo included, cried indignantly, much to everypony’s amusement.
Spitfire could only raise her brows and hum. Yet another thing she’d have to get Twilight to explain. At this rate, she’d need an entire class on the town.
Then again, that wasn’t a bad excuse to rope her into some more time together.
“With that said, I see no reason to dally any longer.” The mayor turned and offered the flame to Twilight, bowing her head slightly. “Princess Twilight, if you would do the honors.”
Blushing to the very tips of her ears, Twilight accepted the gold flame with a bow of her own, then unfurled her wings. With a few quick, powerful beats, she took to the air, slowly flying up with the flame held safely in her hooves, bound for the top of the tree. A bright smile spread across her features as she set it reverently atop the tree, drawing cheers and stomping hooves from everypony in the crowd.
“Happy Hearth’s Warming to everypony!” Twilight called as she hovered down to land on the crystalline floor. “Thank you all for coming and being the best friends I’ve know in my twenty years!”
“And now,” Mayor Mare took up before the cheering could resume, “it’s time for a time-honored tradition of gift exchanging with our friends and loved ones. If you’ll all excuse me, there’s a certain stallion of mine who I need to spoil shamelessly.”
As soon as she finished speaking, the throng of ponies hurried about to find one another and gather together to exchange gifts. Spitfire made to steal Twilight away but then stopped short, cursing under her breath. She’d left the gift in her bag, back in the kitchen. Groaning, she rustled her wings and dashed back down the hallway, taking a running leap to avoid clipping little Scootaloo in the side of her head with an errant knee.
She came skidding to a halt, her hooves slipping on the smooth floor. She snatched up her bag and rooted around in it until she felt her hoof brush against the edge of the package. Merrily fluttering her feathers, she ducked in and took it in her mouth, then hurried back to the foyer, again jumping over the foals as she passed them by on her way over to where Twilight and her friends sat, awaiting her arrival. With a sheepish grin, she took her seat beside her girlfriend, scooting close enough that their flanks brushed together as she wrapped a wing around her. “Sorry about that. Left the silly thing in the kitchen.”
“About time you made it over here, Cap,” Rainbow teased. “Didn’t think we had a slowpoke running the show. Sure you don’t just wanna call me up now and take an early retirement so you can cuddle your princess?”
“The princess sitting right next to you, perfectly capable of sticking you to the roof?” Twilight jabbed back, a wry smile playing upon her lips.
“Sheesh. Somepony’s catty today.”
On Rainbow’s right, Applejack snorted and delivered a sharp elbow to her side. “You hush up ’n let them be, Dash. I’m sure as the night is cold that you’d be just as cuddly ’n attached if it were yours here instead.”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, if I had one. I’m only teasing, no need to bite my head off.” She turned, pulling out a few boxes of varying sizes she’d hidden behind a wing, then began sliding them over to each of her friends in turn. “Fluttershy, here. This is for you.”
Her words sparked the trade. Spitfire turned to face Twilight, only to come nose-to-nose with her girlfriend. They blinked, then shared a little laugh as they nuzzled one another. A quick glance down showed a tall rectangular package held aloft in the bubbling raspberry glow of Twilight’s magic. The supposed object of her doom, no doubt.
The very tips of her feathers tingled. “Happy Hearth’s Warming, hon,” she murmured softly, just loud enough for Twilight to hear. Stealing a quick peck on her lips, she added, “Hope you like it.”
Twilight’s feathers fluffed. “To be perfectly honest—” she returned the kiss with one of her own, lingering a moment before she broke it to nuzzle a slow circle around Spitfire’s nose “—you’ve already given me the only one I really wanted. Anything else is just icing on top.”
Her cheeks rosy pink, Spitfire swapped boxes with Twilight, content to hold her gift in her lap while she watched the mare begin to slice open the wrapping paper with deft little flicks of raspberry magic.
The paper unfolded and fell apart into a neat sheet, which Twilight then casually banished into a nearby waste bin. Then, mulberry ears stood up straight. A smile as bright as the midday sun spread across her face, she threw back her head and let out a laugh as a hoof came up to wipe tears of mirth from her eyes. “Tales of the Founders, the Full Collected Works by J. R. Trotter,” she read the shimmering golden cursive across the cover aloud. Her feathers fluttered, she fixed Spitfire with a coy smirk. “And here I didn’t think you’d get sentimental with gifts.”
To that, Spitfire ducked her head to hide a grin. “Aw, geez! I was just thinking that Maple and Whirlwind’s story was kinda special because it was part of our first date, and you’d mentioned that you loved the Founders’ stories and all …”
Another laugh. Twilight stole a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “That’s what sentimentality is, you silly mare!” She visited a gentle smack on Spitfire’s shoulder, then snuggled up to her, prompting a tightening of the sunny yellow wing wrapped around her barrel. Her eyes flitted to the box in Spitfire’s hooves, she raised her brows. “Go on. Open yours.”
Curiosity flooded her chest. If this was the object of her doom, then it must be something quite impressive. Or, more likely …
The blush in her cheeks redoubled. Something equally as sentimental. Though she lacked Twilight’s magic, Spitfire was well-versed in the fine art of shredding wrapping paper on Hearth’s Warming. Bits of vinyl paper and tape fluttered to the floor, where they were easily caught and disposed by Twilight. A cardboard box with a rather odd logo greeted her—some sort of odd container with a pony posed upon a stand.
Blinking, Spitfire fiddled with the top until the flaps popped open. From within, she pulled a rather intricate piece. A fine base of polished wood and accents painted shimmering gold stood in her hooves, a brass lever protruded from its side. Atop the stand, there was a matching, rotating piece upon which a tiny pony, a ballerina garbed in a fine dress, stood with its forelegs outstretched and one hind leg extended out with its tail while it balanced upon the other. A musical box of expert crafting.
Memories of her foalhood flooded her vision. Nights she spent huddled beneath her mother’s wings, a giddy smile upon her lips as she watched her mother turn the lever to play the song and send the ballerina on a merry dance, twirling on stage like the Wonderbolts did in the sky.
“I thought you might like it, since you mentioned dancing,” Twilight said. “Also, there’s a little something I can do to make talking a little … easier from time to time.”
Spitfire’s ears twitched. “Oh?” her voice caught in her throat. Spitfire shook herself, turning her eyes upon Twilight once more. “What’s that?”
A soft kiss sent tingles through her chest. “A little spell I found in a book some time ago. If you ever want to talk to me, push the lever in, then play the song through once. If you hear it from the box, then I’m calling you.” Twilight winked. “Let’s just say it’s best with a real-time demonstration than a simple explanation.” She paused a moment in thought. Or so it seemed. But there was something in her eyes, her very smile, which betrayed her.
Out of the corner of her eye, Spitfire could see Rainbow hiding a knowing smirk behind a hoof. So this was a lead-in, then.
“In fact, why don’t we test it out later tonight?” Twilight offered. “Say … after everything gets cleaned up?”
And there it was. Far be it from her to disappoint her girlfriend.
Smiling in return, Spitfire held the music box close. “Sure. I’d love for you to show me how this little trick of yours works.”
She would be lying to herself if she tried to pretend she didn’t feel that shiver of anticipation return at the way Twilight purred in reply. Right into her girlfriend’s waiting hooves she walked.
Though, there were far worse fates, she supposed. At least hers came at the hooves of a beautiful mare.
Fortunately for her ever-growing curiosity and the constant burn of anticipation within her breast, cleaning up after the festivities wasn’t nearly as challenging as Spitfire had thought. As with the setup, the entire town chipped in, offering a hoof to clear away the remnants of their party favors and treats, save for the sleepy-eyed foals shepherded to bed back in their cozy little homes by watchful mothers.
Even without the little hooves, everything was put away and the castle left looking just as pristine as Spitfire had found it. Though they did end up leaving the tables and chairs gathered in a neat little cluster off to the side.
Twilight had decreed it would all be dealt with the next morning and thanked everypony for their help, shooing them all out the door while they protested and tried to convince their princess and friend to accept their aid. Or at least wait until they returned to finish the work.
“These ponies, I swear,” Twilight muttered fondly as she emerged from Spike’s room, closing the door as quietly as possible so not to disturb the slumbering little drake.
Spitfire chuckled, adjusting her bag so the strap didn’t sit so awkwardly on her shoulders. “Don’t take no for an answer when it comes to lending a hoof, eh?”
“Never! It’s like I’m dealing with the flutterponies from those old stories!”
“The ones where they make deals?”
“Exactly!” Heaving a faux long-suffering sigh, Twilight leaned against her. “Won’t you save me from these silly ponies?”
A laugh bubbled forth. Spitfire gave her a playful hip check that sent her staggering a step. “Oh, just take the offered hoof, you ridiculous mare!” With a roll of her eyes, she unfurled her left wing to allow Twilight to duck under and press against her side, then wrapped it around her withers. “So, when do I get to find out why Rainbow Dash claims that I’m doomed?”
This time, Twilight’s sigh was genuine. Her tail flicked, the ends brushing against Spitfire’s flank. “That mare can never keep a secret, I swear! She just loves to shoot her mouth off!”
“Be that as it may,” Spitfire purred, teasing her tail along Twilight’s thigh, “you didn’t answer my question. When do I get to find out? Or are you going to make me anticipate my untimely end until you spring it upon me, oh wicked girlfriend?”
A hip bump came in reply. “Relax, oh impatient girlfriend, you’ll get your other gift soon enough.” Twilight’s eyes dazzled. “But first, I’m going to show you how that little spell works.” Pausing a moment, she added, “After we put your bag in my room, of course.”
“Much appreciated, hon. Lead the way.”
A short walk down the hallway, then a right at the end led them to a pair of doors. Twilight opened the one on the left with a little flick of a magic tendril, motioning Spitfire inside. She nodded to a wooden table in the corner nearest her plush bed. “You can put your things down on the table, there. Then let’s get you set up to test this out.”
Spitfire nodded, trotting over to do as she was bidden. She set her bag down, careful not to slide it lest the strap buckles scratch the wood, then retrieved the music box from within. When she turned to face Twilight again, she found a matching music box floating aloft in her magic. Well, matching save for the pony upon the stand.
She arched a brow. “They do Wonderbolt music boxes?”
“I may have asked for a custom one so I could have one more like you in uniform rather than a tutu. Sue me,” Twilight replied without missing a beat. “And you’ll see why in just a moment.” She set her music box on the bed, then hopped onto it, settling down on her belly. With a little shooing motion, she beckoned Spitfire toward the door. “Go into the room just down the hall. When you hear the song play, push the lever in and the spell will activate.”
“All right. Seems simple enough.” She turned, trotting over to the door with the music box tucked under her right foreleg. As she reached it, she paused, a thought came to her. She looked back over her shoulder at Twilight and asked, “Do I need to let the song play through, or …”
Twilight made to reply, but paused a moment. An odd smile flitted across her face, her eyes shone with mischief, and a hint of something else. “Oh, let it play through,” she said. “I think you’ll find the tune quite lovely.”
Spitfire’s brows disappeared beneath her fiery mane. Humming, she flicked her tail and strode from the bedroom. All the while, she could feel Twilight’s eyes lingering upon her form.
That shudder of anticipation returned again. Spitfire shook herself, scowling as she entered the other room. “Get ahold of yourself, Spits!” she scolded. “Don’t let her have it so easy! We’re turning this around on her, remember?”
Her wings, though, had no intention of cooperating. They itched to unfurl, her feathers fluffed, ready to spread wide and put on a magnificent display for the beautiful, conniving mare waiting but a room away. No doubt with full knowledge of what that look in her eyes had done.
Oh, Twilight would get it for that one!
The room itself was rather spartan. A guest room, if Spitfire had to hazard a guess. The bed was certainly comfortable enough, the perfect place to set her music box and wait for this fancy spell to kick in.
Idly, she hopped onto the mattress and drummed her hooves to the beat of the Wonderbolts’ flight song, humming the tune to herself. Seconds passed slowly, then minutes. Spitfire pulled a face, eying the box suspiciously. What was taking her? Had something messed up? She pricked her ears up, listening out for any grumbling or frustrated cursing muffled by the crystalline walls.
Nothing came. Odd. Or perhaps Twilight just had a better grip on her temper than she.
Just as she was ready to rise and go check on things, a light, soothing melody floated to her ears. It was … well, magical seemed a bit too on the nose, yet it was so fitting. The tune spurred a warmth, a sort of fuzzy feeling deep within her chest the likes of which only came over her when she found herself in Twilight’s company. Or for those moments when she had the time to let her mind wander to a scene with an open sky shared with her, a chance to just fly for hours and laugh with her girlfriend and share her world with a wonderful mare.
And made her just want to close her eyes and savor every second of it.
Spitfire let it play all the way through as asked, then pushed the lever in carefully. There was a bright flash of light, she blinked colored spots from her vision and shook her head. “Hon,” she muttered under her breath, “what the hay? Warn a mare next time!”
“Sorry,” Twilight’s voice sounded from just under her nose. “I forgot about the flash.”
“Bloody thunderheads!” Spitfire cried, flaring her wings as she reared back and gaped down at the music box.
The little dancer beamed back at her. Rather, Twilgiht Sparkle, a three-inch tall miniature, beamed at her from the stand, wearing the same dress and holding the same pose as that tiny mare which spun while the song played. With a laugh and waggle of her ears, she said, “I take it you’re impressed?”
“Impressed? Hon, that doesn’t—how did you even—what in the world kind of spell is this?”
“Several,” Twilight replied, pride evident in her tone. “Layered upon the box itself and stored within a runic array I put together so they don’t burn out after one use. Mine has the same, but with you. Dressed in your uniform.” Her tiny cheeks colored. Twilight ducked her head shyly and bit her lip. “Do you like it?”
Spitfire could only laugh. “Like it?” She leaned down, closer to her miniaturized girlfriend. “I love it, Twilight. Thank you.”
The blush spread throughout Twilight’s face. “I’m glad. These last few months without hearing your voice were …”
“Yeah. Likewise, hon.” Tilting her head, Spitfire affixed a coy smirk upon her face. A teasing tone made its way into her voice, “So, if I kiss you while this is going, will you be able to feel it?”
“I—uh …” Twilight ducked her head lower, trying to hide a smile. “I actually don’t know for sure.” The corners of her mouth twitched. That gleam in her eyes returned in force. “But I think that test can wait until later. I still have another gift to give you.”
Spitfire grinned. “You tricked me into leaving the room so you could set it up. You little cheater.”
“Guilty as charged. But if you want it and the chance to get even—” Twilight licked her lips slowly “—you’ll have to bring that gorgeous tail of yours in here, hon.”
She was on her hooves in a flash. “Oh, I plan to. Just you wait.”
“Three months was plenty long. But for you, a few seconds is bearable.” With another flash, the spell ended. The little dancer was featureless, frozen in place once more.
With a throaty hum, Spitfire hopped down from the bed and swept toward the door, her tail swishing and hips swing in a tantalizing dance which never failed to render her mare speechless. But when she re-entered Twilight’s room, her smile faded. That little sway in her hips faltered in mid-motion.
The bed was empty. Twilight was nowhere to be found.
Her brows furrowed. “Uh, hon?” she called as she padded toward the center of the room. “I love jokes as much as the next mare, but if you’re pulling my tail right now, you’re asking for a—hey!”
A purple silken sash wrapped around her forehead and slid over her eyes. She heard the door click shut, then the latch rattle into place as the familiar bell-like tinkling of magic filled the air.
Then warm breath tickled her ear, and a wet tongue slowly trailed along the outer edge, flat teeth nipped at the tip and spurred a choked gasp. Spitfire’s knees failed her. Her rump hit the floor with a thud. “Mmm! I’ve waited far too long for this!” Twilight crooned. The tips of her primaries trailed along Spitfire’s shoulder, along her bare collarbone on a journey to flirt across her neck. Then a gentle hoof cupped her chin, soft lips pressed against her own. “Ready for your other present?”
Spitfire whined, “Hon!” Her tail lashed across the floor.
“Oh, how I love that sound! I think we’ve both waited plenty long for this!”
The sash loosened and slowly slid down her head, caressing her coat until it fell to rest upon her shoulders, its cool touch drew a shuddering gasp.
Her jaw dropped.
Wonderbolt blue stockings hugged Twilight’s legs, accentuating her every muscle and drawing Spitfire’s eyes up to linger upon her delectable thighs. Golden lightning bolts encircled her ankles, matching the one which hung from a dark blue collar around her neck.
Twilight leaned in to lick her nose. “I’d say something like ‘come unwrap your present,’” she whispered. “But I think after this surprise you’ve given me, it’s only fair that tonight …”
Her horn flashed. Spitfire let out a yelp as the sash wound around her neck and tugged her so she was nose to nose with Twilight.
Those purple eyes burned with naked desire.
“You come first, hon.”
