Grains Falling Out of the Hourglass
The first time Luna kissed Celestia, she was drunk.
The drunken mind is an odd thing. It takes away the how and the why, and leaves only the who and the what, and even then the who can be easily forgotten, and the what can often be left behind. It takes a great deal of alcohol to reach such a point, and the first time Luna kissed Celestia, it was many hundreds of years before ponykind had discovered distillation, and thus she had to rely on the sweetness of mead and the bitter tannin of old red wine to reach such a point.
They were still young back then. Celestia’s mane was a bright pink, Luna’s a pale blue, both much shorter than they would become in the due course of time. They had won some sort of battle, or ended some sort of war, or perhaps it was merely a seasonal festival, but in any case, in those days, a feast was a common occurrence. It was hardly that there was a great deal to be excited about - Equestria was a much less civilized, much more dangerous place. But when there was reason to celebrate, the ponies of Equestria would gather and feast, and party ponies were much more plentiful in those days.
Luna remembered very little of the night, but she had remembered the kiss. Celestia’s lips were warm. Receptive. Thin against her own, but with a plushness to them, a give that felt delightful locked against hers. In all her drunken stupor, that alone held fast in her mind. They had kissed, and there was a great deal of cheering and hollering, of ponies even more out of sorts than the both of them egging them on, pressuring them to go further. It got very sloppy, very quickly. Tongues got involved. It was hardly the sort of thing one would hear in the romances to come later in Equestria’s history.
When they had separated, she was short of breath. A seed had been planted. A wanting for more had been bred. Celestia wouldn’t let her kiss her again, though. Luna had tried, but every time their lips came close, she turned away. Perhaps Celestia had thought that Luna had made a mistake in the heat of the moment. Luna had thought the same thing to herself, and for centuries onwards, she would say it to herself again, and again, even in the darkest hours of the night, when all was still, and Luna had found a dark corner for herself, a place where she could do… what ponies did in private, when alone, when thinking of great kisses and desiring great mating. She had been drinking, after all. It had been an unintentional step into something that perhaps a mare of her stature could never afford to do.
Luna told this lie to herself, over and over again. It was effective, but even the most effective lie wears thin after so long, and as the years passed by in the hundreds, it soon wore away like limestone.
The second time Luna kissed Celestia, she was high.
The centuries had passed. Time had been kind to the inventiveness of ponykind. Soon, the small village that they had made on the side of that mountain soon carved itself into a city of impossible size and scale, and had called itself Canterlot. Many great inventions graced ponykind - the printing press, the horse-drawn carriage, the underappreciated art of plumbing. Larger, safer ships enabled Equestria to trade with her neighbors across the shining seas, and they did so with great gusto. Soon, Equestria was filled to the brim with Saddle Arabian silks and Chineighse teas, and the minds of its most affluent were filled with the modern ideas of Germane doctors and Prench artists.
Luna was not popular in the day. She was seen as a barbarian. A reminder of Equestria’s early years of strife and violence. But in the night, Luna was very popular with artists, particularly musicians and composers, and with the dandies who lived their lives in the night, and who introduced her to the exotic imports of far away, enjoyed in the dens in the backs of the streets that had formed one on top of another. Luna soon found that it was hard to do anything privately anymore, for the papers of the daylight blasted at her with article after article, expose after expose, saying that she had a problem with drugs, particularly the letter-named works of chemists taken in tabs, and especially with opium.
Luna had found opium to be her drug of choice. It was truly a social concoction, after all, and in the lonelyness of the night, it gave her just the touch of contact that she needed. Celestia disapproved, of course. Strongly disapproved, at that. But Luna was far beyond caring at that point. She knew that the daytime had no love in store for her anymore, and that the company that she kept and what she did with them was the subject of great and preposterous rumor. Celestia was the day, and she was the night. Celestia had no place to judge, and she knew that.
Still, in the back of her mind, she knew what her actions costed Celestia. So, Luna would steal out of the castle, far after most ponies had fallen asleep, covered in a long, dark cloak, casting a spell upon herself to make herself seem smaller. And when she did this, she would skulk the streets of lower Canterlot, hoping to find one den or another, ignoring the drunken and flying-high ranks of the poor and destitute in this part of the city, for she had little time to tend to them or to even spare them a coin or two. She was out there to join them, and in time, she would do so, staying within the smokey confines of the den, staring off into space, her demons warded away for but a few hours.
The night she kissed Celestia started the same as all the others. She arrived at the Grinning Tiger - her preferred den - and was soon in a booth in it’s upper floor, the workers preparing the stuff for her.
The lights were low, dim, and the air was cut by the light sound of a Spaneigsh guitar, as well as the laughter of the many high parties of high and low society, cutting through the air like daggers. Luna smiled as her favorite pipe was handed to her, as friends she would forget in the thousands of years before her smiled, and waved, and coddled up to her, as the stuff was heated and she took a deep breathe of it. The weight of the crown, even in its absence upon her sky-blue maned head, fell away in moments.
The colors of the room, it’s reds, it’s browns, it’s oranges, soon became brighter than anything else. There was a giddyness in her chest, and all of the lurid jokes surrounding her seemed better, those these too became lost to time, and Luna’s only friends in the world were all around her, and all was happiness, for however brief a moment. Sound became indistinct, echoing across her skull, and nearly every nerve in her body was blissfully numb. She joked, and laughed, and held close her friends of the night, but then she heard a throat clearing besides the booth, and glanced up to see her sister’s radiance. Her friends became statues, mere facsimiles of companionship, and cleared away. Luna never saw them again after that, but this did not register in her drug-addeled brain.
“Good evening, dear sister,” Luna said, through opium-numbed lips. Celestia looked so regal. So powerful. She stood before her hollow-eyed sister with all the principality and relaxed well-to-do demeanor that befit a mare of her status. She was beautiful. Luna could vaguely recall a time when Celestia had looked this beautiful before, but her head was so filled with blissful sensation that she couldn’t connect the dots.
“Luna,” she had said. “You must come home at once. This isn’t you.”
“Isn’t it?” Luna said. “I am the night, after all.”
“This is not the night, Luna. Night is sleep, the realm of dreams. You have been derelict in that duty.”
“Bah! Duty,” Luna said, waving a dismissive hoof. “I knew of duty once. I am afraid I’ve moved on from it. Besides, I have vanquished more than enough nightmares for the night. Please don’t bother me with reminders that I still must vanquish my own. Shall I rent the good pipe for you? I fear you have never visited the den with me.”
Celestia sighed, sitting in the booth, a vague hum of magic about her, placing her hoof upon Luna’s. She wasn’t wearing her horseshoes. The frog of it felt so soft and warm, and pleasant, and it spread through Luna’s entire body, and she wasn’t sure how responsible the opium was for it.
“We must go home,” Celestia said softly. Her voice, too, was radiant in this haze. Truly, she was the Sun. Luna was entranced.
“But the players haven’t finished their song yet!”
“No, Luna. We are going home, you are going to sleep this off. I will see to it myself. How could you do this to yourself? It pains me to see you this way. Is it something I have done?”
Luna swallowed. She took another hit off the pipe. Celestia couldn’t stop her before she could. She blew the smoke out of her nostrils, like a sort of great dragon, and felt the burn of it against her sinuses like a forest fire.
“It is nothing,” Luna said. “It is personal. Why have my friends gone?”
“They were not your friends.”
Luna blinked. “But… But…”
“Luna,” Celestia said, patient as ever, giving Luna’s hoof a squeeze. “We must go. Alright? I have already paid your tab in full. It is alright to leave. I have a carriage waiting outside. Please, Luna. I beg of you.”
Luna’s mind had no capacity to race. All she knew was that Celestia insisted, and Celestia was beautiful, and was she not here if for the pursuit of beauty? And so she nodded, and they left the den behind, and soon were in a carriage together, Celestia’s white coat still blooming in Luna’s vision. She felt suddenly cold, for she had left her jacket, and laid upon Celestia, her head in the mare’s lap. Celestia did not turn away. She held Luna close, and muttered to herself about what a fool she had been, and what a fool Luna had been too, and how they could still patch this up, but Luna had to sleep this off. Luna didn’t hear the words. She only heard Celestia’s voice, musical as it was, playing in her mind like the world’s most wondrous harp.
Celestia kissed the top of Luna’s head. “I love you,” she whispered.
Luna did the same, and tilted her head up, and locked lips with her sister, and her world exploded into pleasant sensation.
The third time Luna kissed Celestia, she had no excuse, and it all became clear to her, then, how she truly felt about her sister.
Sobriety had been Luna’s lifestyle for at least a thousand years before, and upon her return, she discovered an Equestria that had left the hedonism of its old ways behind, and had become either clinical and sanitized, or mired in rural tradition. Luna had never preferred one or the other, for in her youth she found both quite dull and uninspiring, and only recently had she discovered the pleasant charms of the quaint lifestyle of modern Equestria thanks to the colts and fillies of Ponyville. Celestia had remarked to her, when she awoke to a mane made of the starlight sky, that Luna had now matured, that she was now older, wiser, far beyond her rebellious self of yesteryear, or the warrior princess of the years before that.
Luna didn’t feel that way. A lifetime of regrets weighs heavier on the soul than a lifetime of wasted opportunities. Time had worn down Luna’s ability to comprehend the mundane and the everyday. Luna’s life felt episodic, more than anything, a haze of nothing events in between episodes of excitement, or friendship problems, or the realm of dreams. Equestria was funny, in a way. It had abandoned hedonism, for dreams offered a window into the hedonistic world without any of the repercussions of them in the real world. Luna had seen dreams that made her blush, made her white with fear, made her feel free from the terrors of the world.
Luna saw a dream Celestia had. It was a still image, but she still felt it right to confront her about it. Early in the morning, when Celestia had arisen and Luna was meant to go to bed, she came to Celestia’s chambers as she slowly rose the sun into place.
In her radiant sunrise, Celestia was beautiful. The swirling emotions of yesteryear rose high in Luna’s chest, the images that had been burned into her mind from a mere peek into Celestia’s dreamscape on the forefront of her memory. Time seemed to slow, seemed to dilate. Another episode. Luna could feel it coming on. Another spot in her memory that would be specific, be timestamped, gone over again and again. Luna swallowed. She hoped, desperately, that this wouldn’t be a regret.
She did not greet Celestia. She merely spoke the truth.
“I saw your dream.”
Celestia sighed, the sun on it’s course upwards, letting it go and turning to look upon her sister. There was a meekness in her eyes, a spark of embarrassment.
“I was hoping you would,” she said.
Luna took a deep, shuddering breath. “Is that so?”
Celestia approached. Luna stood still, looking away from her.
“Luna,” Celestia said. “Life has been so hard for both of us.”
“Yes,” Luna whispered.
“We’ve been through so much together. So many enemies. So many friends. And when I lost you… I feared that it would have been for forever. Worse still, I feared you would never forgive me.”
Luna said nothing. Celestia placed a hoof under her chin, raising it up.
“Luna, I’m sorry,” Celestia said. “I… I may have read too deeply into the past. Misunderstood your feelings by not examining the circumstances. The things you have done… I not doubt they have left your mind addled, your memory sporadic.”
“I feel like a mare with half a brain,” Luna said softly, shooting Celestia a wry smile.
“Luna, I’m so sorry,” Celestia croaked, tears welling up in her eyes. Luna embraced her, held her close. Her body was warmer than anything Luna had ever felt, and softer than any time Luna had touched it before. Luna knew that she had to come clean, now. She had to share with Celestia the conclusion that centuries of addictions and the drive for pleasure had brought her to.
“Celestia,” Luna said softly. “You are forgiven, but there is no need. I am home now. I will no longer run away to bars and dens and houses of the unholy. I have done everything a pony can do and somehow survived it all. There has been one constant throughout, one thing I have discovered.”
Celestia swallowed. “I… I think I know what it is.”
Luna took a deep breath. She was coming close to crying, herself. “Celestia… Is it so wrong to fall in love with one who keeps you from killing yourself?”
Celestia was quiet. Their embrace tightened. No words had to be spoken, for the answer to Luna’s question hung in the air like a perfume. They looked into each other's eyes. What Luna saw in them defied all comprehension. It was something that mortal words cannot describe. Something with no form, no scent, no visual metaphor that could adequately describe it. It was more than love. More than lust. More than anything else in the world. It was an emotional experience only immortals may know, a level of devotion beyond anything one could find in a thousand lifetimes.
Their lips drifted in front of each other. Not touching. Inches away from each other, puffy, wet, ready. It was as if, every time they came close, a spark of static flew in between them, sent a shock down Luna’s spine. Luna’s eyes had drifted shut. She peeked out, just a little bit, just to look upon Celestia’s face, and saw Celestia doing the same. She couldn’t help but giggle like a schoolfilly. It felt like a dream. It felt unreal. It felt better doing it this way, without any substances in the way of her full enjoyment of her sister’s lips.
She took the plunge. They connected. They were one, if only for a moment.
It was electric. It was every drug she had ever taken and more. Soft lips against her own, skilled lips, too. Celestia wasn’t the sort to kiss and tell, but the gentle way she held Luna’s lips against hers told a thousand stories of a thousand kisses before this. There was a promise of adventure in them, a hunger for excitement, a thirst for pleasure. Luna shuddered as the still images of Celestia’s dream, and the great promise they held, flashed across her mind like bolts of lightning. The sounds, the smells, the sensations of it! Luna had been sober for centuries, and the thought of what was about to happen between them was more intoxicating than anything she had ever had.
They seperated, but Luna’s lips did not abate in their kissing. They went lower. Down past Celestia’s chin, past her long, glorious neck. At some point in their first kiss, they had fallen upon a bed. Luna’s lips were free to discover the rest of Celestia’s body, an intrepid exploration that few had ever attempted. Down her chest, down her belly, stopping just short of her mound. Celestia’s breathing was short in the air as Luna, for just one moment, hesitated. She now stood atop the precipice. Celestia’s marehood laid before her, gently spread open, glistening in the light of dawn. The end of Luna’s long night of dishonesty was drawing close. The dawn of her unconditional, eternal, and some would even dare to say holy love of Celestia drew near.
“Luna,” Celestia whispered.
Luna said nothing. Once more unto the breach. She dove in, with no more hesitation, her lips wrapping around Celestia’s mound, her tongue diving in and exploring in all directions. Celestia writhed on the bed, making the springs squeak. She tasted glorious. Crisp, clear, like wine, a hint of sweat and a touch of peaches. Wonderfully sweet and decadent, the greatest of cakes, the most glorious of equine bodies before her. Luna’s hooves hooked around Celestia’s thighs as she dug in as a wolf would to it’s latest catch. It had been ages since she had done something like this. Far, far too long.
“L-Lunaaa,” Celestia breathed.
Luna couldn’t say anything. Her mouth was filled with Celestia’s muff. She redoubled her efforts, finding Celestia’s button as it winked against her upper lip, capturing the little thing between her lips, suckling on it like a teat. Celestia’s entire body shook, shuddered, and groaned with the effort of keeping her from letting go right then and there, and Luna felt a sense of deep pride within herself. How far had she pushed her sister, now? Truly, she couldn’t hold out for much longer. The air was filled with her ragged breathing, and the harsh, musky scent of Celestia’s arousal. A storm was brewing. A flood was coming. Luna knew this, and knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Luna lowered her muzzle, and dug her tongue in as deep as it could go. She must have pressed a switch, for with a shuddering moan, Celestia’s hips rose up against her nose, and her cunny let out a squirt of great force and sickly-sweet pungent scent across Luna’s face. Gods above, what a sight it was! Luna held herself in, pushing Celestia’s orgasm over the edge, again, and again, and again, intent on making everything about her sister’s coming as glorious as every hedonistic sensation that she had indulged in during her youth. It seemed to last an eternity, but at last, Celestia’s squirt ceased, her body flopped against the bed, and Luna rose up to cuddle against her sister.
“Luna,” Celestia breathed. Luna caught her in a kiss. Her fourth one. Certainly not the last one, and perhaps the first honest one. She hoped Celestia could taste herself against her lips.
Celestia broke the kiss. A touch of her own squirt connected their lips for just a moment, before falling away.
“Luna,” Celestia said softly. “Th-Thank you. I needed that…”
“The pleasure is all mine, dear sister,” Luna said softly.
“Shall I repay you now?” Celestia said.
Luna giggled. “Sadly, I… I am truthfully very tired after seeing all those dreams. Perhaps another time?”
“Perhaps indeed,” Celestia whispered. “I… I must repay you. If only we hadn’t these dreadful jobs as princesses…”
“Perhaps we don’t need them,” Luna said. “Perhaps we could… retire.”
“Retire?” Celestia said. “Can we do that?”
Luna shrugged. “We make the rules. I’m certain Twilight and her friends would make capable rulers, as well. And we would have all the time in the world, quite literally, to enjoy everything this world has to offer us. No more distractions. No more libations. Only you, me, and whatever we can manage to do between us.”
Celestia smiled. “Mmh… that sounds lovely.”
“So, shall we plan such a thing?”
“In due time,” Celestia said softly. “I love you, dear sister.”
“I love you too,” Luna breathed.
The fifth time, and every time onward, that Luna kissed Celestia, she resolved to do it again, and to always do it sober, for no substance could ever replace the pleasure of their lips against one another’s.
Author's Note
