How to Say No

Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?

It was one of those nights. Spike’s claws clacked sharply against the desolate castle corridors with every step, echoing into the emptiness. Twilight had asked the question, the one she asked so often. And so, naturally, Spike had said yes.

He always had, after all – ever since the first time. Since the time back when they’d lived at the library, and he’d awoken to Twilight moaning into the pillow, hoof between her legs. She’d spotted him staring, and after a moment of horrified embarrassment the expression on her face had changed, lingering over the little dragon and the hard lump he’d been unable to keep from making under his blanket. And then she’d asked him the question, and Spike wasn’t sure if he could have said anything other than yes.

And so she’d held Spike beneath her and taken his first time, given him hers, and Spike hadn’t really enjoyed it. He’d never thought about Twilight like that before – she’d always been more like a mother to him – and then she’d fucked him and she came so hard as she rode him and Spike came too but afterwards he sort of wished he hadn’t. When Twilight fell asleep, hugging him to her chest and the stickiness covering his cock started to get cold as it drew back into his sheath and the room stank of sex and sweat, Spike had stayed awake and stared at the wall.

The next day, Twilight didn’t talk about it. He wondered if she regretted it too. It was okay, he would forgive her. It was just one mistake, just one regret they could share. They didn’t have to talk about it if Twilight didn’t want to. But then that evening he’d been lying in his bed and heard Twilight whisper his name from above him and ask the question again and knew she didn’t regret it at all.

Maybe it would have been better if they had talked about it, if things had been different afterwards. If Twilight hadn’t just treated him the same as ever, at least until the evenings when she was horny and pulled Spike into her bed and kissed him and fucked him and murmured things she would never have said to him in the bright of day, things like Fuck me Spike and Harder don’t stop and I love you. But then the morning would come and he’d be her assistant again, her ward, and they never talked about it. Twilight never wanted to talk about it, she’d made that very clear. And so instead they acted as though nothing had happened, nothing had changed, except some evenings Twilight would ask the question and Spike would always say yes.

Things were a little different now that they had the castle. Spike had his own room, for a start, and he’d asked for it specifically. He’d seen the disappointment on Twilight’s face when he asked, and actually it was more than that. A deep sadness and hurt, like he’d betrayed her somehow by asking. But of course she couldn’t really say no, and Spike had found and decorated a room to his liking and he’d hoped the distance would be enough for Twilight to stop asking.

It was not.

And there was Starlight Glimmer, too. Once she’d moved in, Twilight had actually stopped asking, but it didn’t last. He never thought it would. Eventually she’d mustered up the courage to invite Spike to her bedroom again, careful to explain that she’d soundproofed the whole thing with magic just in case. If Starlight ever noticed Spike’s night-time rendezvous with Twilight she never mentioned it, and after that, Twilight had asked the question more than ever.

The words might have changed

Sleep in my room tonight?

but the question was the same. And Spike always said yes.

He was pretty sure he was supposed to, that it would be strange not to. It was his understanding that colts and stallions were very eager for that sort of thing, and certainly Twilight had had her share of suitors who would dream of being in Spike’s position. She’d turned them all down, of course, but Spike always knew those evenings would be ones where she asked him to sleep with her instead.

And surely they weren’t doing anything wrong. Yes, he’d been a bit young when they first started – and maybe that was why he’d said yes, because he’d been naive, because he hadn’t really understood what he was agreeing to, what he was giving away. And once he’d already said yes, it was all that much more difficult to change his answer. But that was a long time ago, so now when Twilight asked him he knew he should be excited, should be pleased. Should always say yes. And so Spike tried to want it. He really did try.

It didn’t help.

Maybe there was something wrong with him, he wondered, as the door to Twilight’s bedroom loomed at the end of the corridor. At first he’d thought it might just be because he was a dragon and Twilight was a pony, maybe that was all it was. But then he thought about how beautiful Rarity was and knew it couldn’t be that. Although even that attraction had dwindled lately. He’d caught the pained looks on Twilight’s face whenever it came up, whenever he talked about Rarity, and so he stopped. And now whenever he thought about Rarity or spent time with her he just remembered those evenings with Twilight and felt sick to his stomach.

Spike stopped. This was largely predicated on the fact that if he didn’t he would walk straight into the ornate crystal door that marked Twilight’s bedroom. With a resigned sigh, he pushed it open and stepped inside. It was dim, but he could still easily make out the form of Twilight under her bed covers, and as he shut the door behind him she called out to him, her voice husky with lust.

“Hi, Spike,” she murmured. “I was beginning to wonder if you were even coming, you took so long.” He could hear the need dripping from her every word. Had she really been wondering? He doubted it. He’d never refused her before, why should that change now?

“Yeah, sorry Twilight,” he replied, staring at the floor. “I lost track of time.” That was a lie. A blatant one. In fact he’d been watching the clock like a hawk, wondering how late he could push it, wondering if maybe Twilight would be asleep by the time he arrived and then it wouldn’t be his fault she didn’t get what she wanted from him.

She smiled warmly. “It’s okay,” she said, and patted the bed next to her. “Want to come snuggle?”

That was her excuse, her way of not having to explicitly say what she wanted, what she needed. But it also wasn’t a question that really needed an answer, and Spike didn’t give one. At least not with words, and he shuffled over to the bed and she raised the covers for him to slip beneath them, and she pulled him to her chest, his back against her, and for a moment she was content just to hug him, although his tail had accidentally slipped between her hind legs as she shifted and he could feel slickness against his scales.

“My little Spike,” she breathed into his ear, her hoof beginning to wander down his chest as he froze up, rigid and still. She didn’t notice, she never noticed, and her hoof moved lower and lower until it reached his sheath and began to press against it, trying to coax his length free. And soon, just like always, his body began to react to the stimulation even if he’d have preferred it didn’t, even if he’d rather have just been in his own bed by himself and not here with Twilight nuzzling his neck and planting kisses against his scales and toying with his now-hardening length.

“Twilight, I don’t-” he began, but she shushed him.

“It’s okay, Spike,” she said in a reassuring tone. “I want this.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s just-”

“And I can tell you want it too,” she said, giving him a gentle but meaningful squeeze as he hardened against her hoof. And Spike didn’t really know what to say to that.

Maybe he did. He did always get hard, after all, and he almost always finished too, unless all Twilight wanted was to fool around a bit. That must mean he enjoyed himself, right? And it did feel good, regardless of how else he felt during. So yes, he decided, he must want this. Must want Twilight to play with him, to ride him, to cum on top of him. Must want to lie awake in the darkness afterwards and stare and the wall and try to forget it ever happened.

That last part didn’t sound right to him, but what did he know?

And he was hard, now, Twilight’s gentle caresses making him twitch and grunt even if he didn’t really want to, and as she kissed his shoulder from behind him he could feel the smile on her lips even if he couldn’t see it.

She leaned in to whisper in his ear again. “I want you to use your tongue.”

Spike swallowed, and then nodded. He disentangled himself from her hooves, and Twilight lay back and spread herself for him as Spike slid down the bed. She was already so wet for him, her excitement obvious as he settled himself between her legs. She didn’t always ask him to do this for her, but it was still more often than not and Spike was more than used to it by now. It was almost routine.

If Twilight wasn’t as wet as she was right now, Spike would start slow, kissing up her thigh because she’d told him she liked it, because it always made her squirm. It had been a few days since the last time, though, and he could tell she was desperate for him to just get on with it. Privately, Spike was glad. The less foreplay she needed the quicker this would be.

And so instead of teasing her he leaned forward and pressed his muzzle against her, his tongue flicking out and pushing into her, and Twilight moaned in satisfaction and clamped his head between her thighs. She’d told him time and time again how good his tongue felt, how as a dragon he was able to reach so deep inside her, do more than any stallion ever could. Spike wasn’t quite sure how she would know that; as far as he was aware Twilight had never been with a stallion. Just him. Always him. Maybe she was just guessing, but Spike knew her favourite places weren’t even that deep anyway, and he was pretty sure any stallion would be able to reach them all.

And he did know all of them, learned them over the years whenever Twilight told him to go between her legs and use his tongue and push it deeper fuck Spike yes that feels so good. He’d gotten good at it, he knew that, but it was hardly a point of pride. He just wanted to get her off quickly so they could move on, so they could finish sooner. But she still almost never let the night end before he’d cum. Spike wished she would.

Sometimes – although far less often than she asked him to do it for her – Twilight would try to use her mouth, too. She’d take him in, wrap her lips around him, swirl her tongue against his length. But still she wasn’t very good at it, couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell what he liked and what he didn’t. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t really like any of it. Either way, it took a long time for her to make him finish like that, but sometimes she would insist and Spike would lie there and his cock would ache in her mouth and he’d wish he was anywhere else. And afterwards Twilight would always look at him with such pride that she’d managed it and Spike just wanted to curl up in a ball and pray it would be a while until the next time.

She wouldn’t do that tonight, at least. Spike could tell. Twilight was so pent up, so aroused, every flick of his tongue against her making her shiver and moan. No, he already knew how tonight would end. He would bring her to a shuddering climax, and then she’d feel guilty about him not coming yet and also she still wouldn’t be satisfied anyway and so she’d pin him down and ride him until they were both exhausted.

Sometimes, rarely, she would let him be on top. Spike hated that even more. At least when she rode him he didn’t have to do all that much, could lie there and try not to think about it, try not to see Twilight moaning above him as the bed creaked and sweat pinned down her mane. He could try to imagine it was anyone but Twilight, the closest thing he’d ever had to a mother, using him like this.

“Oh, Spike,” Twilight panted. “Don’t stop.”

As if he would. He had said yes, as he always did, and there was no turning back. And so his tongue pressed insistently against her, and the taste of her drenched him, and whenever he breathed in it was full of the scent of her excitement and his cock throbbed harder in anticipation even as his mind reeled in revulsion.

Twilight’s breaths came quicker, harder, her moans loud and desperate and her thighs held him ever tighter and he knew she was close, knew she was right on the edge. And so he pushed her over it and Twilight shouted his name to the ceiling as she shuddered and groped futilely at the bedsheets as if they could stop her from quivering and losing herself in bliss.

When she finally came down from her climax, Spike pulled back and his muzzle was soaked and he never really knew how to deal with that, his instincts telling him to lick it clean but then he’d have to keep tasting her and his mouth was already full of her taste, he didn’t want any more.

And then Twilight pulled him into a passionate kiss, and he wondered why she always did that when he’d finished eating her out, surely his lips just tasted like her and why would she ever want that? But she kissed him anyway, and it only added to Spike’s discomfort because he had no idea how to react to it. Part of him kind of wanted to let her kiss him, to just enjoy it, while the rest of him screamed inside his head that it was Twilight and what was he doing what was she doing she was his caretaker not his lover. So when Twilight pulled back Spike mostly just felt relieved that he didn’t have to think about it anymore.

“Was that good?” he asked, already knowing the answer, already knowing he didn’t really want to hear her say it.

“That was amazing, Spike,” Twilight said, her chest still rising and falling so rapidly, biting her lip, her cheeks flushed. “You’re so good at that.”

He wished he wasn’t. Maybe then she wouldn’t keep asking. Although that hadn’t stopped her when they’d first started and he still hadn’t known what he was doing and she’d fucked him anyway, so maybe she’d always ask regardless.

And then she was kissing him again, and rolling him over so she was on top of him and he wondered if she thought she was being subtle, like he wouldn’t realise what she was doing until she pressed her marehood against his shaft and covered it in her excitement as she rolled her hips against him. But he always realised.

“Are you ready?” she asked, shivering as she held back a moan that threatened to escape as she ground herself against him, as he slid against her but not inside, just a promise of things to come that he never really wanted.

But he said yes anyway. Because he always did.

And so Twilight kissed him one last time, and then he felt the telltale tingle of her magic enveloping him as she aligned him with her entrance, and then she slid down onto him and he was inside her and her warm, wet walls wrapped around him and he scrunched his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to look.

It was one of the few advantages, he’d found. He could always close his eyes because Twilight would assume he was lost in pleasure, lost in her, just like she was in him. And he could tell she was from how she quivered on top of him, how her forehooves on his chest shook and tried fruitlessly to cling to his scales, how she clamped down around him and drew him into her, so tight, squeezing desperately against him.

Celestia, she was needy tonight. Even for Twilight, her moans were already so loud, so full of lust, and as she adjusted to him inside her and began to rock against him the place where they were joined was already beginning to make wet noises that Spike couldn’t avoid hearing no matter how much he wanted to. He could feel her tail flicking against his legs every time she sunk down and drove him all the way into her, and when he opened his eyes hers were tightly shut now instead, and with every drop of her hips her breath caught and he could see her tense and shudder, her wings threatening to flare above him.

“Fuck, Spike,” she breathed, and not for the first time he wondered why this always brought out such coarseness in her, why her gentle demeanour was always replaced with harsh words. And he wondered if whatever made her act like that was the same thing that made her pull him into bed with her, made her pin him beneath her, made her blind to his discomfort.

He thought it must be.

“Grab my flanks,” she commanded, and Spike obeyed, his claws gripping her tightly as she rode him. Maybe too tightly, as Spike tried to focus on anything else and maybe some of his resentment leaked through as his claws dug into her. Twilight didn’t seem to mind, though, her gasps only getting louder. “Yes, just like that,” she whispered. “Oh fuck.”

Spike didn’t say anything. He never did. He never saw the need. There was nothing he wanted to say, nothing he could, and certainly nothing like the things Twilight said; no desperate demands or exultations. And so instead he simply held her tighter and if she wanted him to pull her down onto him then she would be disappointed, because Spike did nothing. He did nothing as she bucked her hips and gasped and moaned, did nothing as she called his name over and over, did nothing as her riding grew faster, as she began to bounce on him. And when she leaned down and pulled him into a passionate kiss in the heat of the moment, he still did nothing.

Nothing was all he wanted.

Sweat shone through Twilight’s fur, and her eyes were full of fire, of lust, and the panting and desperate mare above him bore so little resemblance to the one that Spike knew and loved. She was so lost in her desire, in her rapture, in the feel of him inside her, and he hated it. He hated how she looked when they did this, hated how far from Twilight she became.

And yet, it was still so much of her. Still looked like her, of course, but more than that. Still Twilight in the way she moved, in the way she spoke even as she cried out his name or murmured things that she’d never even consider saying during more polite hours. In the way she smelled, even, despite the almost overwhelming scent of sex. Whenever she leaned in to kiss him it was so impossibly Twilight, and her lips were warm and her fur was soft and Spike wished more than anything she’d never do it again because it only made his stomach sink lower, made his heart ache all the more.

It was different, that was the problem. Everything else she did on these nights was so rough, so forceful, so unlike her that it was easier to keep them separate. There was Twilight, and then there was the pony that asked him to come to bed with her, that teased out his cock and then fucked him until she was satisfied and didn’t even notice that he didn’t enjoy it, didn’t want it. He could almost pretend they weren’t one and the same, right up until she kissed him and it was so tender and caring and it was just so much Twilight and that wall he tried to keep between the two crumbled away every time.

And all the love in her kisses couldn’t make up for everything else.

It didn’t even begin to make up for it.

And so when she kissed him his claws dug deeper into her flank, partly because he was trying to hold in his distress and partly because he was failing to hold in his anger. Usually this didn’t make him angry, just… hollow. But sometimes it did. Sometimes he would start to hate her for it. And that was another reason why he wanted to keep them separate in his mind, try and act as though they were different. Because he loved Twilight. Deeply. More than anyone else in the world, he loved her.

And then she’d pull him into bed with her and he didn’t anymore.

He thought she’d reprimand him for his claws, tell him to be more gentle, that he was hurting her. A tiny, savage part of him was almost hoping for it. But if anything she only got tighter around him, and she let out a desperate noise from deep in her throat.

“Oh, Spike,” she murmured. “You’re so rough today.”

Because of course. Of course it only got her more excited, made her buck harder against him. And even when he made himself loosen his claws a little the damage was already done and Twilight’s breathing was coming faster now, her cunt squeezing and milking his cock as she neared her second climax of the night.

And as much as he hated himself for it, Spike was beginning to feel his own orgasm approaching, too. He could feel that rising surge through his cock, feel every heartbeat pulse through him as his length strained inside her. And she could feel it too, she always did. Of everything, that was the one thing she could always pick up on.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” she asked.

Spike nodded. He didn’t want to speak. Didn’t trust his words.

“I am too,” she told him, even though Spike already knew, as acquainted with her body as she was with his. “Let’s cum together.”

Twilight always wanted that; he didn’t really know why. It rarely ever worked out that way – one of them would almost always finish before the other – but sometimes it did and Twilight would always be so happy afterwards.

Spike didn’t understand it. He just wanted this to be over.

And at least it would be, soon, as Twilight tightened ever more around him, as her moans began to bleed into one another and her quick draws of breath were so clearly filled with desire, as the wet noise whenever Twilight dropped her hips became unbearably loud, accompanied by the sharp slap against his scales. Her tail was flicking erratically, and that was always a telltale sign, as Twilight screwed her eyes shut and shuddered towards her second orgasm.

And then there was his own, too, and he could feel that coming as well, rushing up through him. He could feel the pulsing in his cock as it seemed to get even harder, which never thought it could but it always managed to. Almost painfully hard, now, each straining throb making him grit his teeth in a strange mixture of aching, unwanted pleasure. He could feel his mind start to blank, almost like the headrushes he got when he stood up too quickly, but not quite. No, it was unique to this, a feeling he only ever felt when he was deep inside Twilight and she was begging for him to cum inside her, sometimes with words, sometimes just in the desperate way she rode him, almost strangling his length in her squeezing tightness.

And he could feel that rising feeling, too, the feeling as something deep inside him made his grip on her flanks rougher again. Some primal thing that urged him onwards even if he hated it, some primitive part of his mind making him fuck her anyway, after all his reluctance and self-loathing. Do it fuck her cum inside her breed her fuck breed cum.

And he despised that voice, despised what it made him do, how it made him feel. Hated it because he was pretty sure it was that same voice in Twilight’s head that made her want him like this, over and over, night after night. And, just as Spike did now, Twilight always seemed to listen to it.

Tonight, Twilight came first. Her wings finally unfurled and launched outwards, fanning to their full span as she shouted her climax to the room, to him. She nickered and shuddered and moaned and her marehood was desperately milking him, urging him to cum and fill her and satiate her at last.

And, soon after, he did. Spike bucked his hips upwards in pure instinct, making Twilight – still lost in the aftershocks of her orgasm – gasp and shiver as he came, spurting so deeply into her, and for just a moment all his doubt and disgust and anger was gone and Spike was lost in nothing but a wave of pleasure. But just a moment, and then it was over and Spike was sticky and Twilight was panting atop him and he could feel his cum running down the side of his cock as she sat on top of him and he just felt dirty and used.

And when she slid herself off of him and collapsed beside him and pulled him into a hug he just wanted to go and wash all of this off, wash it all away. They would, soon – sometimes together – and then Spike would wander back to his bedroom and curl up under the covers and still feel like he hadn’t scrubbed his scales enough, like he could still feel sticky remnants against them no matter how hard he’d washed them, no matter that he knew they were clean.

He never felt clean, after.

Because he wasn’t. This wasn’t. Nothing about this was clean. And Twilight held him closer and smiled against his shoulder and Spike lay there and stared at the wall.