As early morning light slithered through the blinds of the nearby window, Applejack found the bed unbearably empty. Lying on her belly, her face buried deep in a feather pillow, she reached out and searched for a sweet someone.
Only the fledgling warmth at the tips of her fingers remained in a small depression still apparent in the mattress. As she crawled closer to the center of the queen size, the lingering tang of jasmine, lavender, and sweat hit her nose. She nudged a small recess in her soft pillow and sighed.
Applejack rolled on her back, covering her face from the sunlight with the palm of her hand. She stretched her legs down the full length of the bed and pushed against the sheets until they popped out from under the mattress.
She lifted her hips up and plopped the soft, tingling covers under her heels and sides. A back muscle popped and she let out a smile as she wrapped herself further in the sheets.
“You are such a cute spring roll, dear.”
Applejack opened an eye. Rarity’s milk-white skin was barely visible through her translucent purple nightgown. Its color matched the walls and her coiffure. She was beautiful.
Rarity rested against the door frame. Her left hand stretched to the top corner, the other rested on her hip. She accentuated the bend of her waist with a subtle, coquettish flick. She never looked away from her paramour.
The violet bed sheets garishly contrasted with Applejack’s hair and outlined her taut body. Rarity traced Applejack’s legs under the covers, picturing the freckles that peppered them and waited to be uncovered.
Rarity’s hand slid away from her waist and made its way to her face where the freckles would be if she had any. Quick smudges or blemishes of mascara would do the trick.
“You’re the spring roll, Rar’,” Applejack said with a chuckle. “You know, I ain’t often sleeping in satin.”
Applejack recalled the dryness of the wool and linen that made up most of her belongings and furniture. The unmatched softness of satin was a novelty and the kiss of the fabric on her freshly shaved legs left them tingling. She didn’t dislike the sensation. She would be hard pressed to confess such an incriminating thought to her partner, though.
“You should come more often then, darling,” Rarity replied as she sashayed to the bed and sat at the edge of the mattress. Her hand gripped the covers as she climbed atop and sat astride the satin-bound girl. She hung there for a moment, her lips teetering a foot above Applejack’s. “Next week’s sheets will be silk.”
Applejack looked away to hide a flustered smile and the red hues on her cheeks.
Rarity chuckled as she struggled to meet her lover’s olive green eyes. She closed her legs in against Applejack’s sides to lock her in place.
Applejack put on a pretense of a struggle, only to relax a couple of seconds later. Only her toes wriggled inside the satin twirl.
“Never would’ve thought you’d be the clingy type,” Applejack remarked with a simper.
Rarity shook her head. Her grip slackened and she plopped down to Applejack’s side, stretching a slender arm and leg over the satin-cocooned farm girl.
“My own little spring roll,” Rarity whispered, folding her leg back under the covers and around Applejack’s waist.
Applejack sneezed, her nose tickled by Rarity’s hair. She huffed a few strands away only to dig her face deeper in the less than coherent purple mass. Applejack’s brow furrowed at how disheveled it was.
“What time is it?” Applejack asked, looking for the alarm clock on the nightstand behind Rarity. “Shouldn’t you brush your hair for work?”
“Still early for a Saturday. And you know, it's been a long time since I last took a day off,” Rarity mused. “Why waste time brushing my hair when I know you’re going to mess it up again?”
Applejack pressed her hand against a sore spot writhing in her shoulder. The sheer weight of Rarity’s luggage had left her begging for a cart the night before.
Smiling at her purple and white diamond, Applejack struggled through drowsiness as she ran down her mental checklist. The second harvest of the year was about to start, but not yet. Big Mac was getting ready for it and Filthy Rich was impatiently waiting for his Zap Apples.
“I think I can allow it.” Applejack chortled. “For now.”
The busy street several stories below echoed through the windows. Applejack’s ingrained routines teased her to get out of bed but there were no apple trees there to attend to. So far from home, she could only wait.
“I can’t believe you got me to come all the way to dang Manehattan with you,” Applejack mumbled as she tried to wriggle out of the satin cage.
“The city and all its yeehaws...” Rarity teased, pressing herself further against Applejack’s side. “Thank you, darling. I really needed a hand.”
With a wistful breath, Rarity rose from the sheets and went back to straddle the blasé cowgirl again. Closer this time.
Chest to chest, Applejack felt the weight of her companion over her. The ebb and flow of Rarity’s breathing, the subtle whistles coming from her nose, her fingers pressed between her lumbars and the mattress and, sometimes, a twitch here and there down the length of her white legs. Applejack chuckled as Rarity’s eyelashes caressed her ear every time she blinked.
Rarity rubbed her cheek against Applejack’s ear. The farm girl smelled of sunflower oil and cranberries. Dragging her hand along her partner’s side, Rarity combed her fingers through Applejack’s long, knotted hair. She couldn’t tame such a wild, bristly, sun-filled cascade. Rough like straw; she loved it.
As she cuddled and clung, Rarity watched beams of light shine through Applejack’s blond hair like a summer sun over a spool of golden thread. A yarn so rare and pricey even her own Boutique couldn’t afford any. She felt Applejack tense again, hesitant until the cowgirl reached over and embraced her.
Applejack hated cages. The city was one. So was the lack of personal space. For anyone but Rarity, she would have relented. Her proximity was all but a cage. Her warmth brought Applejack reassurance and called up memories of cold winter nights in the barn at Sweet Apple Acre, huddled with loved ones next to a fire.
Applejack’s arm went up Rarity’s back and away as she slowly crawled back under the sheets and into the memory foam mattress. She stopped short of pulling the sheets over her eyes as Rarity’s grip strengthened again.
Looking at the ceiling through Rarity’s hair, Applejack briefly studied the roughcast, spotting some patched up areas, the possible mark of a water leak over the past few years.
As Rarity snuggled further, Applejack looked around at her partner’s surprisingly austere Manehattan apartment. She’d not paid attention as they’d arrived the night prior.
Besides the bed and the cupboards, nothing there hinted at being used regularly. It was professional and purely functional. The only furniture was a clock radio, an electric guitar, and a flat television screen. The glossy monitor mirrored a blurry reflection of white, purple, and a smudge of yellow.
Applejack’s nose tingled. She turned back to look into Rarity’s blue eyes with a slight frown.
“You put on perfume on your way to the coffeemaker, didn’t you?” Applejack asked playfully, reaching at Rarity’s hair from under the sheets.
Applejack twirled some purple strands between two fingers as she took in the unfamiliar scent. It smelled… strong, and mixed. Vanilla, and something she’d not smelled in a long time.
“Yes, maybe…?”
“Like... my Aunt Orange,” Applejack remarked.
Rarity’s cheeks puffed with an indignant pout. She shoved herself away and onto her knees, her behind firmly rested on her achilles. She glared daggers. A snapping retort boiled to come out but she held. Applejack’s freckled cheeks twisted and creased. Rarity could see the gears churning behind her friend’s concerned eyes.
“AJ! That’s not how you court a lady!” Rarity scoffed, a grimace on her face.
Applejack scoured her memories until it suddenly clicked. She recalled the morning habits of her spick and span aunt. Morning routines were the brand of the Apple family. With the same judging frown, she looked up at Rarity.
“Have you been smoking?”
“N-no,” Rarity protested, Yanking her hair out of Applejack’s hand.
“Sugarcube?” Applejack dragged herself out of the purple covers to sit against the wooden head of the bed frame. “I thought you’d stopped.”
“No, I didn’t! Wait, no, I, uhm...” Rarity sputtered into silence. She gave a quick look at her friend and turned away, closing her arms around her ankles as she brooded over the edge of the bed. “One should never point out a lady’s flaws. How you could be so… mean?”
“Oh, come on, Sugar...” Applejack sighed, shaking her head. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you. It’s just that… Vanilla’s very strong perfume for you and… I know Aunt Orange’s smell after a smoke–even after all those years away from this dang city.”
Applejack watched Rarity rake through her hair and bring a few strands to her nose. A twinkle shone at the corner of her eye. A couple of long seconds later, she turned back to Applejack with pinprick tears on her cheeks, “Vanilla’s really not my flavor, is it? I—”
Applejack smiled back. With a grunt, she lifted herself off the pillows and covered the distance with an arm. Gently catching Rarity’s shoulder, she pulled her into a side-hug.
Rarity hesitated, throwing a quick, angry glance back. But she relented. She turned and lie against Applejack, resting her head against her friend's strong chest, and embraced her waist with both arms.
“What’s wrong, Sugar?” Applejack asked, comforting her soulmate with tender strokes. “You smoke when you’re stressed. Is there something in Manehattan you wanted me to be here with you?”
Rarity laughed dryly, wiping away a single tear against Applejack’s shoulder. She looked at the window blinds and the light sifting through. A febrile smile graced her face and she asked, “There’s really nothing to hide from you, is there?”
“I guess not,” Applejack reassured with a brighter smile. “I’m your girlfriend after all.”
With a long breath, Rarity grabbed the untucked satin cover and dragged it over herself and Applejack. She pulled it to her chin and toyed with the edge for a moment. She took a deep breath but nothing came out of her lungs at first. She gulped down, threw a quick teary look at Applejack, and sighed.
“Canterlot Carousel went bankrupt last week.”
The news sent a cold shiver down Applejack’s spine.
“What about Sassy?”
“She’s… She’ll be fine. I’ve written her recommendations. It’s not like Canterlot isn’t crawling with fashion shops.” Rarity sighed. “I’m not worried about her. She’ll make it. I didn’t, though.”
“What about you? I hope you don’t worry too much?”
Rarity paused, processing the question. She looked up with squinting eyes and blubbered, “What kind of question is that, Applejack? Of- of course, I worry about myself. I worry about bills, loans, cash flows, income statements, account payables, and especially about account receivables!”
Applejack’s arms hurt under Rarity’s pinning nails, gripping and grating at her skin through the satin.
Rarity gulped down audibly as she prepared her next tirade.
“Rarity…” Applejack prodded.
Rarity drew a long, shaky breath as she stared Applejack into silence.
“Canterlot aristocrats are poor payers you know, Applejack,” she said. “They’re needed nonetheless. They’d come to the shop, order, and never pay. I’d just nod back. It’s called... decorum. Prickly, shiny but not a dime to spare, those bunch. All of them. You perform the deed, make them tunics, and they repay you with good words here and there. My dream to come to Canterlot. All but just a scheme for, for… exposure.”
Applejack could feel each of Rarity’s erratic breaths. Rarity was seething, and her eyes looked into the nether that was her memories.
“Is that why you came to Manehattan?” Applejack offered, glancing toward the door as the dark smell of coffee slowly wafted in. “To get far away from the Canterlot hoity-toiters?”
Rarity let out a wry laugh, sniffed, and sighed. To Applejack’s relief, Rarity released her grasp over her arms and went to wipe the few tears off her cheeks.
“Filthy Rich owes me one,” she said. “He offered to lease me a street-level location in Manehattan.”
“That’s good, I guess,” Applejack said with a nod.
Rarity huffed with resolve, “I’m known enough to work outside the capital.”
Applejack hesitated. Accounting, finance, and marketing weren’t her forte. She was an apple farmer. She harvested and sometimes even made cider. It was a straightforward work. She always avoided customer service, especially if it involved the high society. Holding back a sigh, she tenderly wrapped her arms around Rarity and let the satin cover rest upon their shoulders. She had no words.
The clock radio crackled to life, “It’s seven o’clock! You’re listening to one-o-three FM radio, Manehattan Central! Hard at the top of the Rock!”
A constant note. A quick few riffs cracked on an old amplifier-plugged acoustic guitar. Fingers squeaked against steel strings as a croaky voice began to scream into a microphone.
“~I’ve been through a lot, trainhoppin’ the country
From east to west, southbound to sunny streets
Where nobody would kick me out of the holes I dig~”
The audio saturated, throwing off rhythms with merely a few instruments, two guitars, one percussion and a synthesizer. Sometimes, they drowned the singer’s wailing voice.
“~Dig constantly, maybe one day I’ll reach epiphany
To the city of the second sun where nobody but me
Can decide where I’m ending up to be~”
Rarity slapped the radio with the bottom of her fist. As she turned back, she cocked a brow at Applejack’s amused look.
“Still ashamed about liking that hard rock stuff, eh.”
“It’s not hard rock.” Rarity feigned offense, wagging a finger at Applejack’s nose as she gradually leaned against her. “It’s punk! That one is more folk punk than actual punk, of course. This station has hard rock songs as well for sure, and post-rock, and horrorcore, and… And so many other genres!”
“I quite liked it when you did that multicolor frazzle a couple years ago,” Applejack sputtered, not willing to argue about Rarity’s quirky music tastes. “And, you know, I…”
“Hmm, hmm?” Rarity pressed forward with a grin, pianoing her fingers up Applejack’s belly under the covers.
“No, no,” Applejack corrected. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t you try and avoid me, farm girl!” Rarity badgered further, grabbing both Applejack’s shoulders as she sunk them both under the sheets.
Applejack glanced away, giving a short, hectic laugh, “Have you ever thought about calling your future boutique the Mane Hatter?”
Rarity muttered, releasing the shoulder grip to rub her eyes and face.
“Are you really trying to do a Rainbow Dash, here, right now, with corny puns, jokes, and the whole cliché?”
“I…”
“And no. It’s already trademarked.”
“So you’ve thought about it?”
Rarity’s eyes widened. She grabbed the nearest pillow and shoved it into Applejack’s face. “You sly dog,” Rarity said with a grin, propping her legs under Applejack to lock her in.
Applejack snickered and lifted Rarity off the mattress like a sack of grain.
Rarity ‘eeped as she tumbled back and landed face-down on the bed.
“Top dog, you mean,” Applejack teased as she sat on top of Rarity.
Applejack pinned Rarity down, two strong hands anchored to her shoulders. Rarity feigned a fight but quickly abandoned, smirking instead.
“Well...” Rarity giggled. “Now you’re at it, top dog, you may start your handiwork. And can you pass me a pillow, pretty please?”
Applejack cocked an eyebrow and soon realized her position. Rarity always had the dramatic talent to play herself into the situation she wanted in.
Applejack nodded silently, feeling the creased nightgown around Rarity’s shoulders. The fabric ruffled against Rarity’s skin, causing the tiny hairs on the sides of her neck to rise. Applejack moved her hands over to Rarity's shoulders while the gown tickled her fingertips. Applejack could see a smile grow on her lover’s face.
“I want you to give me your cigarettes first, Rar’,” Applejack said, grabbing a thrown-about pillow that Rarity rapidly dug her face in.
“Don’t you Rar’ me,” Rarity grumbled.
“Rar’?” Applejack repeated sternly as her hands circled tight against Rarity’s sides.
“Fine,” she said, giggling at the tickles. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll worry about it later.”
“Rar’?”
“Alright, alright. I pinkie-promise I will give you my packs. Happy?”
Applejack smiled. She pinched the nightgown at its lower part and slowly rolled it up Rarity’s smooth, pristine skin.
Rarity let her arms be carried forward and giggled as Applejack slipped the nightgown past them.
Applejack contemplated the translucent garb for a second. She folded it and set it at the head of the bed. Straddled over Rarity, Applejack reached back to the nightstand. She opened it and pulled out a bottle of oil. Rarity was always prepared.
While Rarity stretched face-down as she lay on the mattress, Applejack squeezed a good amount into her hand. The subtle smell of bergamot hit her nose. She returned the bottle to its drawer and rubbed her hands to warm up the oil. Finally, as a smile grew on her face, she went to work.
With steady pressure, Applejack applied long strokes away and across Rarity's back. She dutifully followed the ribs and spine, repeating the same movements multiple times as she warmed up Rarity’s skin.
Rarity was tight. She felt each strong yet gentle stroke as Applejack's hands glided along her spine. Fingers and palms crossed her shoulder blades several times. Enthralled by the oil’s citrusy notes reminding her of Earl Grey, Rarity slowly heeded the many knots knitting her back.
Applejack always stopped when she’d grazed one. She circled, made a mental note of it, then proceeded to another.
With the oil evenly applied, Applejack pressed her palms against Rarity’s shoulders and began kneading. Applejack pulled up and back and took great care to never pinch. She carried her strong hands downwards, pulling and releasing the skin. She left no place untouched.
No matter where she went, tension and knots made their presence felt. The years Rarity had spent crouched at her designer’s desk fought Applejack’s hands wherever her fingers went. Rarity was a beautiful field trip.
Rarity shivered, tremors carrying across her body and twisting under Applejack’s hands. The bergamot’s intoxicating smell tickled her nose. Her mind wobbled as awareness slipped. Only the shaping touch of fingertips remained.
Applejack dug deeper into Rarity’s muscles everywhere knots and bumps could be. Each stroke of her thumbs left ephemeral red streaks as blood rushed back in. Rarity answered with purrs and shivers.
Applejack found a difficult spot right below Rarity’s shoulder blade. She couldn’t pin the spot. The knot, as tight as a small pebble, always slipped left or right.
Unable to break the knot with her thumbs, Applejack pressed her knuckles above it. Patiently moving along Rarity’s spine, Applejack pressed up and down over the spot in long, continuous strokes.
The knot popped loose, wrestling out one of Rarity’s precious moans. Rarity’s back muscles fluttered as Applejack reached the top of hips. Tension trickled down her back along with the sweat that pearled against her sides.
Applejack focused back to Rarity’s neck. She gently set her elbow against its right side and slowly lowered her forearm against the shoulder.
Using elbow and forearm, Applejack squeezed all the way down the side of Rarity’s spine until she reached the top of the hip bone. She then transferred the pressure from her elbow to her forearm and progressed to Rarity’s leg. Applejack kept a steady pressure as she worked her way to the foot.
Rarity had lost track of time. Her mind kept sinking lower into peacefulness, a calm warmth that ebbed and flowed under hands she trusted. The smell reminded her of her Carousel Boutique and simpler times. A stormy night at a friend’s place. A long climb up a mountain. Holding hands in high school with someone yet to be fully loved. Mindfulness went along forgetfulness. So far from it, she still felt at home.
Applejack pressed her thumbs between Rarity’s toes and pressed with her indexes against the sole of each foot. She stretched every toe, ruffling them individually as she gently pressed the joints. It always ended with a nice, gentle tug.
Applejack brushed and grazed Rarity’s legs, massaging up towards the heart with a closed hand against the back of the thighs. Sometimes she stretched, sometimes she bent. She motioned clockwise around the knee. Down to Rarity’s ankles, Applejack gave the joints nice rubs, smoothing the tendons around.
Rarity’s back arched as she stretched further under her lover’s strength. Her hips jittered and a couple of quakes crawled down her sides. She’d reached the seventh heaven, a lightness like she rested inside a cloud.
Applejack finished each leg with a caring tug and brushed her fingers back up her thighs, her hips, all the way up to her neck.
Finally, Applejack sat next to Rarity, laid her head against her neck, and reveled in the warmth and citrus smell coming off her lover’s back.
“That was divine,” Rarity gushed as Applejack extended an arm. “You could have worked in a spa in another lifetime. Thank you.”
“A farm girl has to know where the hurt is.”
Rarity mumbled incoherently as she stretched, wiggling her limbs. After she’d settled, she only gave a sigh.
“Sugarcube, it doesn’t matter what’s happening tomorrow,” Applejack said as she rolled Rarity over to look into her eyes. “I’m the one here, right now, with you on your day off. Let’s act like it.”
Rarity gave a shy smile.
Applejack beamed in the morning light as she teetered away.
Rarity’s smile faltered slightly, looking cross. Only after a moment did the light and a glowing smile come back to her. She took a long breath, shaking herself as she reached for Applejack’s wrists with both hands.
“Thank you, love. For being here with me.”
“I’ll always be.” Applejack kissed that smile. “That’s my policy.”
