The Twining

Shining Armor needed a plan. Unfortunately for him, plans seemed to be in short supply.

The first problem had been Twilight herself, and after some deliberation he’d wrapped her insensate body in his magic and carried her to the hotel’s enormous food store. It was big, stocked full of enough supplies to last three winters, and – most importantly – locked from the outside. He’d shut her in with more than a little pang of regret, but she was already starting to stir and she was too dangerous to let her run loose. He certainly couldn’t take her on in a straight magical fight – he’d only managed to knock her down earlier thanks to the element of surprise and her addled state of mind. Next time he probably wouldn’t be so lucky.

So he shut her away, and all he could do was hope she wasn’t seriously hurt. She didn’t seem to be, and hoping was all he could do for the time being either way.

Afterwards, Shining had retreated to his quarters to plan his escape, and had so far been wholly unsuccessful. A brief check outside the hotel’s front door had proven futile: the ice and snow had chilled him to the bone, and he wouldn’t have lasted more than an hour out there. Not on his own. Warming magic would only last so long in weather like that, and when he ran out he’d be a dead stallion.

That was a dead-end, then. His second idea was to find some way to contact Cadance. She’d know what to do, she always knew what to do. And this dilemma with Twilight was sort of her area of expertise, too. Well, not really, but perhaps close enough that she would have some ideas. Worst case scenario, she would be able to arrange a contingent of the crystal guard to come and rescue him and his sister. Royalty did have its perks, after all.

But he’d drawn a blank there, too. If Spike had been here he could have gotten a message to Celestia, but Twilight had left him in charge of Ponyville’s castle in her absence, so that was another no go. Shining made a mental note to get a dragon for himself, and more importantly not to leave it behind when going on long excursions into isolation.

Teleporting? Twilight had always been better at that than he had, and the possibility of getting it wrong was too great to imagine. The further the distance, the greater the scope for whatever showed up at the other end to be… something else. Every unicorn had the horror stories drilled into them: ponies showing up inside out, or materialising inside something else. Or someone. Or even never rematerialising at all. Shining would have to be far more desperate to try something like that.

He was stuck. That was sort of the point, after all, it was why caretakers were needed in the first place. Shining groaned and lay back on his bed, staring dejectedly up at the ceiling. Was that how this was going to be? Stuck here until the thaw, leaving Twilight locked in a glorified cupboard? Maybe it was. Maybe it was the only thing he could do.

Except he’d locked Twilight in with the food. He’d had the foresight to grab a few supplies before shutting it, but it wouldn’t last him the whole winter. And then what? Hope Twilight had come to her senses, he supposed. There wasn’t much of a choice left. An entire winter, locked away in this hotel. And now, alone. It didn’t bear thinking about. And what about all the strange things that had been going on? What about room 237? Twilight was living proof of the madness they could cause, what the hotel wanted of them, and he was supposed to survive the entire winter without the solitude driving him insane?

There had to be a way out, had to be something he could do to get Twilight and himself away from here, out of this place. It was just so hard to think. Visions of Twilight’s manic expression, raw lust in her eyes, and the imagined version of her in the hallway baring everything as she urged Shining to mount her, take her, rut her senseless into the carpet. With all that swimming around in his head, it was no wonder he couldn’t come up with a plan. He just needed to clear his thoughts, get those images out. And it would be so much easier without that incessant scratching and scraping against wood, too.

Wait. What was that last thing?

So caught up in his whirling mind, Shining hadn’t really acknowledged the sound until he focused on it now. A cold fear enveloped him, the kind that made all his skin feel a little too tight, his fur standing on end. It was coming from inside the room, from the door to the en suite bathroom. His head slowly turned, as if of its own volition, looking out across the gulf of his room at the bathroom door, even though he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know what was making it.

Letters were carving themselves into the wood, flaking paint and wood chips scattering onto the carpet beneath as some invisible force hewed out rough lines. As Shining watched, eyes wide, it finished its message with a final scratch.

TSECNI

He didn’t need to look at the mirror across from it to understand – it wasn’t hard to read it backwards. That sickening, oppressive twisting sensation was filling his stomach again, the one that made his head spin and pound and the world feel like it was slipping away from its axis, the feeling that always emerged when the hotel began to manifest its despicable will.

And as he stared at the mirror anyway and the word slashed backwards into the bathroom door somehow seemed to stare back, a loud slam against the other door in his room made him jump so badly he almost slipped and fell right out of his bed. A loud, sonorous bang, followed immediately by another. He knew exactly what that meant, too.

Knock knock.

“Shiny? Big brother?” came a muffled voice through the wood, one he immediately recognised as Twilight even though that was impossible. But only as impossible as the apparitions outside room 237, only as impossible the doorway that had taken him halfway across the hotel in an instant. Only as impossible as INCEST carving itself in reverse on his bathroom door. Another loud slam against the wood, and he could hear Twilight laughing from outside. “I’m home.”

The next slam was hard enough to splinter it, wood buckling inwards and sending fragments erupting across the room, Shining raising a hoof just in time to cover his eyes. Splinters pelted his coat, and the next impact against the door made sent large chunks of wood skittering to the ground as the top half began to crumple under Twilight’s assault. Instinct took over, Shining rolling off the bed and landing deftly on his hooves, staying low as another shower of splinters rained over him. Twilight had the exit covered, his only option was the bathroom. He charged towards it, and behind him the room’s door finally surrendered to Twilight’s magic and disintegrated, shattering into an explosion of boards and wood dust. He didn’t turn around, though, not even when he heard Twilight’s snarl of frustration and galloping hooves, and she wasn’t quite quick enough to catch him. He slipped into the bathroom at the last possible moment, the sound of Twilight’s hooves right behind him, and he slammed the door shut just in time to hear her crash against it.

Shining slammed the bolt across, but he knew it wouldn’t hold her for long. This door was old, far less sturdy than the other had been. If Twilight could get through that, this one would be even easier.

Think. Escape. But how? He’d cornered himself, shut himself into a dead-end (not that he’d had much of a choice in the matter). And now Twilight stood between him and his freedom, and there was no way his magic would work a second time.

There. The window. A small, sliding one, high in the wall. Thank Celestia he’d been sleeping on the ground floor. Yes, he’d be out in the cold and the snow, but he’d stand a better chance than in here all the same. He could even loop back around to an entrance if it came to it – anything was better than staying here.

The window slid easily enough, requiring only a minimum of elbow grease, but the hard part was yet to come. The window was small, and high, and while Shining Armor certainly wasn’t fat, the fact remained that he was a full-grown, ex-military stallion. His frame was far from slender, and Shining had no idea how he’d fit through the tiny window, the cold air and snow blasting inwards and already making his teeth chatter. He had to try, though, before…

Shining hesitated a moment, his hooves hooked around the window frame. Before what? What was Twilight doing out there? He’d expected the bathroom door to be mostly off its hinges by now, but instead there was nothing but an eerie silence outside.

He paused, his hooves growing chill against the icy air. It was a trap. Had to be. Couldn’t have been anything else. Just Twilight pretending she wasn’t there and waiting for Shining to do something stupid, like open the door.

And it was stupid, he knew that. It was absolutely the stupidest thing he could do when instead he could be focusing on his escape, but something held him back. The silence was unnerving, yes, but that was Twilight ou there. His own sister. Why was she hesitating?

Shining groaned and dropped back down from the sill. He’d been kidding himself if he thought he was going to fit through that window anyway. It would have been difficult even back when he was a foal – a fully grown stallion stood no chance.

He just didn’t want to know what the alternative was going to be.

“Twilight?” he asked the door, already hating his decision. “Are you okay?”

“No,” came the muted response, and a little jolt shot through Shining’s stomach as he heard the thick, telltale sound in her voice. Twilight was crying.

“Are… Are you going to break this door down, too?”

It took a bit longer for Twilight to answer this time. “No,” she said, eventually. And then: “Can we just talk?”

“I don’t think I should open this,” Shining said. “Not when you’re like this.”

“That’s okay,” said Twilight, but Shining could hear the hurt in her voice. “We can talk like this.”

Shining was far from convinced, but it wasn’t as though he had any other recourse. “Okay,” he said, slowly. “We can talk. Just like this.”

There was a long silence, and then Twilight spoke, and though her voice was still thick with tears he could hear the slight smile in it, too.

“I can’t believe you thought locking me in the pantry would work,” she said. “You do know I’m an alicorn, right? I can think of a hundred different ways I could have gotten out of there.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Shining. I didn’t mean for all this to happen.”

Shining leaned against the door and slid down it, allowing himself to relax, even if only a little. “I know,” he said. “It’s this place. The hotel, there’s something wrong with it.”

“No, it’s not that. I mean, it is, but it’s also not.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like…” Twilight hesitated, searching for the right word. “This place is like an amplifier. It doesn’t change us, it just makes those feelings stronger.”

“Wait, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying the hotel didn’t make me want anything I didn’t already. It just showed me how much I needed you. And it made me a little crazy in the process.”

“A little? Twilight, you blew up my bedroom door.”

“Hey, I could have blown this one up too! But I didn’t, did I? I even had a cool line I was going to say and everything.”

Shining wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Twilight’s idea of a ‘cool line’ was. “So what stopped you?”

There was another pause, and he heard a little sniffle from the other side. “Realising how much you were going to hate me if I did.”

“You know I could never hate you.”

“Yes, you could,” Twilight insisted. “And you probably do. And I love you way too much to bear that. I want you too much to bear that.”

“Twilight…” Shining said, a warning edge to his voice, preparing himself to leap to his hooves again, half-expecting another shattering blow to slam into the wood above him.

“It’s not me being crazy, and it’s not the hotel. It’s just… It’s just me. It’s just what I want. What I’ve always wanted, ever since we-”

“That was nothing,” Shining said, firmly. “It was just a dumb mistake we made when we were both too young to know better.”

“It wasn’t nothing. And I think you know that too.” He heard a shuffling from outside, Twilight drawing nearer, her voice growing more earnest again. “That’s why you never forgave me, isn’t it?”

“Of course I did.”

“You say that, but it isn’t true. Do you remember, you didn’t talk to me for weeks afterwards? And ever since you’ve always kept me at hoof’s length, and I know why.”

Shining’s fear and concern had started to melt away, burned off by hot anger that surged up from somewhere deep inside him. “That’s not true. I never held it against you.”

“I didn’t say that, I said you didn’t forgive me. And that’s because you felt it too. You wanted it just as badly as I did.”

Shining wanted to shout something back, that anger now roiling around inside him, but he couldn’t find any words that meant what he felt.

“But of course we couldn’t,” Twilight said. “Because we’re siblings, and that’s wrong, isn’t it? Everyone else would say so. And then you had Cadance and that’s when you started being nice to me again, because then you had enough excuses that you didn’t have to be scared of how you felt anymore.”

“I was never scared.”

“You still are. I still am.”

Shining thumped a hoof against the wood in frustration. “I’m not.”

“Then open the door.”

Shining shook his head, even though there was no way Twilight could have seen it. “This is a trick.”

“No trick,” Twilight said. “I Pinkie promise.” She let out a quiet laugh, although it was still somewhat fractured through her tears. “And you can’t break those. Pinkie would never let me.”

It was a trap. It had to be; there was no way it could be anything else. It was a trap and the moment he went out there she would pounce and it would all be over, but none of that mattered. Shining had already made up his mind. He rose to his hooves again, took a deep breath, and unlocked the door.

When he opened it he was fully expecting to see the crazed mare his sister had become earlier, the same mad stare, that unhinged grin. But that wasn’t what he found outside. Instead the mare before him seemed suddenly very small, sitting on the carpet and staring up at him, her eyes wide and shining with tears, as if she’d never truly believed he would open it. As if she’d been expecting him to keep her shut out.

Just like he’d always done.

They stayed frozen for a moment, eyes locked, Shining wary and ready for any sudden movement, prepared to slam the door shut again if Twilight tried anything, if he had time. He probably wouldn’t. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, crystalised, the air thick with anticipation.

But there was no great shattering like Shining expected. Instead Twilight simply smiled weakly. “Thank you,” she said, and even though she was smiling there was barely any hope in it, and her voice was little more than a whisper. “I didn’t think you actually would.”

“You’re not going to go crazy on me again?”

Twilight shook her head. “I promised.”

Shining gave her a long, hard stare, trying to probe for any dishonesty. He didn’t think she was lying, and he was usually able to tell. Still, it was with heavy steps, teeth gritted, that he made his way over to the bed, brushed off the splinters with a burst of magic, and sat down. It took a great deal of resolve to turn his head away from her and let her out of his sight, half expecting a painful jolt of magic, or for her to simply tackle him as she’d tried to do earlier. Neither happened, and Twilight simply sat there and watched him pass.

“You wanted to talk,” he said. “So here I am.”

Twilight swallowed, shuffling her wings uneasily. “We have to talk about what happened. Back then.”

“We already have,” Shining said. “We said everything that needed to be said, years ago. We don’t talk about it because it didn’t mean anything. Because we both regret it.”

“I don’t,” said Twilight, quietly. Bitterly. “I never did.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” Twilight rose to her hooves again, and hurt flashed over her face when she saw him flinch at her sudden movement. “And I know you feel the same way,” she insisted. “You always have.”

“That’s not true.”

“You don’t have to lie about it. There’s no one else here. Nopony around for miles and miles.”

Shining sighed. “What do you want from me, Twilight?”

“I want to hear you say it again,” she said, settling herself on the bed next to him. “Just once. I want to hear it.”

“I can’t do that. You know I can’t. I’m married. I have a family. A foal, maybe another one soon. And you’re going to be the Princess of Equestria.” He shook his head. “You’re my sister, Twily, and I’ll always love you, but you can’t be anything else. You can’t have this.”

“Just once,” she whispered. “That’s all. Just say it, one single time. Like you did before. I’ll never ask again.”

“I can’t,” he insisted.

“You can. No one else will ever know. It’s just us, just you and me. Like it used to be.” Her eyes were starting to shine with tears again. “Please.”

Shining winced. He couldn’t. He absolutely couldn’t – there were very few things in this world that he couldn’t do more than say those same things he’d said all those years ago, the ones that had plagued him ever since. He shouldn’t have done it then, either, but he’d been stupid. He didn’t know any better.

He didn’t want to know any better.

But…

Twilight was right about one thing, at least: nopony would ever know. Maybe that was what he was scared of. His safety net, his fallback, had been taken away. Shining never had to worry about denying it back home because he had too much to lose. Here, he had none of that to rely on. No excuses. Only his own conviction.

And if anyone could break that, it was Twilight.

It had always been Twilight.

He sighed, and closed his eyes. “Okay, you win,” he said, regretting the words even before they left his mouth. “I want you.” He heard the slight hitch in Twilight’s breath as he said it. “I’ve always wanted you. I never stopped.”

Twilight was smiling again, a real one this time, one that wasn’t crooked or broken. One that was warm, her eyes sparkling. “Thank you,” she murmured. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Are you happy now?” he muttered.

“Almost.”

Twilight was so close, when had she gotten so close? When had the room gotten so warm, a hot flush in Shining’s cheeks? When had Shining started to lean closer, and when had he take Twilight’s face in his hooves and pulled her in for a kiss?

It was a lot better than their first one – they’d both had more practice in the years since – but it was filled with the same earnestness they’d felt back then, the same longing, the same want. The same passion that made them kiss until his lungs burned and when they finally broke apart it was as if coming up for air from drowning, and Shining could still feel her against his lips.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he said.

“Do you want to stop?”

And if only there was an easy answer to that. There was supposed to be, he knew, but instead his heart pulled him in so many directions at once. Think of Cadance, think of Flurry. Think of Twilight, think of how much she hurt, how much she cried when you shouted at her back then and walked out after taking her first kiss. Think of how just the sight of her makes your heart beat faster, and think about how much you hate yourself for feeling that way. Think about how much she wants you too. Think about how no one will ever find out.

Think about how right it felt when you kissed her.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

And then they were wrapped up in each other again, and her lips were soft and warm and perfect, and fuck, she was perfect, she was always so Celestia-damn perfect and it wasn’t fair. It had never been fair that she was his sister, so unreachable and unattainable. That she was so perfect and he couldn’t have her, that they wanted each other so badly and still could never have been together.

It wasn’t fair.

All that frustration he’d pushed down for so long – buried with the rest of it, the memories and regrets – was in every moment of their kiss. All that wasted time, all those moments of longing and jealousy and self-loathing. All released, set free at last, and they melted together in a blur of heat and desire. They sank down to the bed together, entwined so tightly, neither willing to let the other go in case this moment would somehow end, in case sense would prevail over want. But as long as they held onto each other, it would be okay. As long as Shining clung to Twilight, her wings wrapped around him, this moment would last forever and everything would be right and good. Everything would be her.

There was no room for anything else. No room for Cadance or Flurry or guilt. No time for it, borne breathlessly from one moment to another as they rolled across the bed together and her embrace was warm and gentle and close all at the same time. They came to a stop, and now Twilight was perched above him, as unwilling to break the kiss as he was, and so didn’t matter if it lasted forever because neither of them wanted it to end.

Except, finally, it did, and Twilight pulled back. They were both panting again, and her cheeks were flushed red and her eyes were filled with pure, wanton desire, the kind of smouldering gaze that could turn any stallion’s head, the one that couldn’t be faked, could only be honest.

Shining’s stiff length twitched as she shifted above him, and fuck he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard, so hard that it almost hurt, aching and desperate. Maybe back when he and Cadance had first started. Or maybe further back still, when Shining had pushed Twilight away and stormed out of the room and told her siblings weren’t supposed to kiss that way, hoping she wouldn’t notice how stiff she had made him doing just that.

He wouldn’t push her away now, though. Even if she wasn’t practically pinning him beneath her, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He wanted nothing more than to let Twilight continued and do whatever she wanted to, everything she wanted to. He could feel how wet she was, the heat coming from her as she brushed against his length, teasing and toying as she shivered at the sensation.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” Twilight breathed.

But he did. He’d been waiting just as long.

No one will ever know. You’re safe here. We’re safe here, together.

They were both too desperate for much foreplay, and there was no need for teasing, not really. No need for build-up. There had been years enough of it, after all. Years of sidelong glances and painful stabs of jealousy and regret. Years of wondering what it would have been like if Shining had stayed, if he hadn’t shaken off Twilight’s affection. If that dumb, ill-advised kiss had become something far more, if they’d only let it continue to the inevitable. If Shining hadn’t fled.

You had to. You couldn’t stay.

No, he couldn’t have, but he’d wanted to. Twilight was right, he’d always been sure to keep a careful distance between them after that, but not for her sake. For his. Because if he didn’t, Shining had no idea how he would have kept those feelings buried. For all the good that did him.

None at all, and now he simply regretted all the wasted time, all the hurt. He’d pushed her away and let her blame herself, and now he’d given in anyway but Twilight wanted him as badly as she had back then all the same.

“Are you ready?” she asked, and there was a tinge of nervousness in her voice, of uncertainty and doubt that managed to pierce through the haze of lust.

He wasn’t. He never would be. Shining hadn’t been ready back then, and now they were mature enough to not even entertain the idea, no excuses this time. And yet here they were, and what they were about to do still hadn’t really sunk in. Or maybe it had, and it was already enough to make Shining’s head spin with desire.

But he nodded anyway, and Twilight carefully repositioned above him, and Shining gasped as she slowly, oh so slowly, began to sink down his length. And Celestia she was tight, wrapped around him, enveloping him as she let out a loud, shivery moan and still kept dropping her hips.

He remembered the apparition outside room 237, that look, how she’d presented herself to him. Come play with us. He’d looked away, then, horrified. Terrified. Scared that if he didn’t it would bring everything back, but all too late and the image had been scorched into his memory anyway.

There was nothing to stop him looking now. He saw everything as his sister slid down and took all of him into her, feeling her squeezing and tightening around him, feeling her shudder a little every time his cock twitched with desire. He couldn’t stop a quiet grunt escaping as she took more and more of him, as the hotel melted away and there was nothing but hot, velvet tightness around him. Unable to focus on anything else, unable to see anything but Twilight atop him.

Her rump reached him, and he was hilted inside her, Twilight pausing as her body tried to adjust to the thick length buried so deeply into her.

“Just… just give me a moment,” she breathed.

Shining needed one too. There was no going back anymore, no changing his mind. An irreversible line had been crossed, the thing that he’d been running from for so long, but now he was here Shining knew he would never have done any different.

Twilight was right, he wanted this. He always had, always imagined it, and as Twilight shivered above him and somehow clenched even tighter around him, a strange feeling washed over him. The sensation that this was inevitable. Fated, that he and Twilight were somehow destined to end up this way no matter how hard he tried to fight it, that the universe would conspire to somehow bring them together. All for this moment, this instant. He lay back and tried not to buck his hips as Twilight shuddered above him, even though the temptation was so great.

Cadance didn’t normally want to take it slow, and though he was trying not to think about her right now the difference was all too apparent, Twilight’s relative inexperience obvious.

“Are you okay?” he asked, and Twilight smiled down at him

“I am now,” she said. “Ready?”

Shining nodded, but Twilight was moving before he’d even given his response, gently lifting her hips before sinking back down onto him and letting out a loud gasp that was filled with years’ worth of denial and unslaked desire, finally sated. Arching her back and clutching at the fur on his chest, her wings fluttering a little as she took him in so deeply, all the way to the hilt again.

There was no hesitation this time, Twilight beginning to ride him in earnest, holding him down as her hips bucked and the loud moans of her passion began to fill the room. She opened her eyes to stare into Shining’s and for a second there was a flash of something else. A memory. A moment.

Come play with us.

The thought no longer brought that sickening revulsion, however. Instead he saw the memory of Twilight bending over for him and could no longer deny his excitement, raising his hooves to grab her hips, pulling her back down onto him with a lustful growl, no longer content to lie there passively as she enjoyed herself.

Twilight gave another shuddering moan at his sudden forcefulness, her marehood practically pulling him as she shivered and gasped, as she drew closer and Shining couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blissful expression on her face. Oh fuck, how badly had he wanted to see her like this, quivering and moaning and impaling herself on his length, screaming his name to the air as she rode him, as he pulled her down and thrust upwards to bury himself as deeply as he could, and still it wasn’t enough. Still he needed so much more.

Twilight leant forwards the rest of the way, enveloping him in another kiss, and Shining remembered the first one. The one on his bed, how they’d dropped to the covers together just like this, and how he’d felt himself growing traitorously hard. The little “Oh!” that Twilight had made when it brushed against her stomach, and then how he’d broken the kiss and disentangled himself, storming out, blaming her even though the only one he’d truly blamed had been himself.

No running, this time. No blame. Just lust and love and adoration. Just need, just perfection. Because this was perfect, was right, because otherwise how could it have felt so good? How could it have made Shining’s heart crash in his chest with that nervous rush he hadn’t felt since he was a colt sneaking off to a closet to make out with Cadance? He knew that feeling, knew it all too well, and if it was wrong then it was the entire world that was wrong. He needed Twilight, and she needed him, and nothing else mattered.

Maybe they’d matter in time, maybe there’d be things to worry about after this, but not here, not now. Now she could ride him like this and they could melt into the kiss together, melt in every way together, and no one would ever be able to stop them. No one could tell them they shouldn’t and couldn’t, no one could tell them it was wrong. They were alone, and together, and that was all they needed.

The bed creaked beneath Shining as Twilight’s movements grew more frantic, more erratic. His grip on her waist tightened, but he was no longer leading her movements. They were too much, it was all too much, too intense. Now he was simply clinging to her, letting her buck and roll her hips and bounce atop him. Letting her drive him ever deeper, wrap ever tighter, her marehood as desperate and needy as she was. Urging him onwards, to fill her as much as he could.

Every buck slamming back down against the mattress, hard enough for her rump to smack loudly against him and sending a visible ripple across her flank. Her tail swishing and flicking behind her, Shining grunting and gritting his teeth as Twilight’s movements grew ever faster, ever more desperate, her moans rising in pitch as she reached closer and closer to her peak.

The bed creaked, her wings fluttered, Shining’s breathing hard and heavy. And then Twilight arched her back and let out one final, rapturous cry, shuddering atop him, no strength left to try and buck her hips anymore as she came, her marehood squeezing and trying to milk him for every drop.

But she had left Shining at his own precipice, and he couldn’t hold himself back. His hooves held onto her with newfound vigour, and even as Twilight’s climax ripped through her Shining began to buck upwards, lifting her up just to get leverage to drive roughly upwards as hard as possible, and then dropping back down the mattress to do it all over again.

Twilight’s ecstatic cries only grew louder, and then, as her orgasm faded and Shining kept fucking her, she dropped down and held herself tightly against him, clinging so strongly as he rutted her, tight enough that Shining wondered if she ever planned to let go, as if her very life depended on holding him close, burying her head in his neck.

“I’m close,” he murmured, and her hindlegs tightened around his waist a little.

“I want to feel it,” she whispered back, her breath warm and quick against his ear, catching every time he thrust upwards. “I want to feel all of you.”

All work and no play makes Twilight a horny mare.

Come play with me. Forever, and ever, and ever.

Shining bucked his hips upwards one last time, as hard as he could, and let go. Pleasure crashed through him, rippling up across his skin as he buried himself as deep into his sister as he could, and filled her. Completely, utterly, cumming harder than he could ever remember, as Twilight shuddered in excitement at the warmth finally dousing her lust. As Shining growled possessively, his turn to hold her close, pin her against him, his length still spurting into her, his flare locking her in place.

And then he was collapsing backwards, and they fell together, exhausted. Shining lay, panting, the occasional shiver of pleasure still rolling all the way through him as Twilight stayed draped over him, still wrapped around him in every sense. Neither wanted to move, or speak, or do anything to shatter the afterglow, content simply to bask in it. Perhaps forever.

But forever was impossible, and Twilight extricated herself and rolled off him to his side, still hugging him close in a tender embrace that was full of warmth and love.

“Thank you,” she murmured into his neck.

But despite the pleasant shudders, a gnawing feeling had begun to eat at Shining’s conscience. “This can’t be a thing,” he said, staring up at the ceiling. It was easier than looking at her. “You know that, right? Once we go back, this can’t keep happening. There’s too much at stake, too much for either of us to lose. Cadance. Flurry. The whole kingdom. We can’t keep doing this.”

He felt Twilight wince a little at his harsh words. “I know,” she said. “But for now, can we just pretend? At least until the snow melts?”

Shining smiled. “Until the snow melts,” he agreed. He turned to look her in the eye again, and there was so much adoration there it made his heart jolt, made the inevitably kiss all the more warm and close.

“I love you, Shiny,” she murmured.

“I love you too,” he said. “And I always will.”

Until the snow melts. Until things have to go back to the way they were, the way they have to be.

But not yet. For now they could be exactly who they wanted to be. Twilight nestled herself closer, and Shining pulled her in tight, running his hoof in small, affectionate little circles against her fur.

Spending the winter here together suddenly seemed a lot less unbearable after all.

***

In an easily overlooked corner of the hotel, tucked away in one of the many nooks and crannies in the winding maze of corridors, lay a small alcove decorated with history. Photographs, paintings. Memories.

Old ones, ones from times long forgotten, filled with ponies long since departed. Pictures of celebrations, reunions. Weddings. Funerals. Parties of all shapes and sizes, the photographs ranging from crisp colour all the way back to grainy black and white and then further still, oil on canvas. The hotel had stood for many years after all, and would stand for many more.

Too many years, if the dates carefully noted beneath some of the oldest painting were to be believed; impossible stretches of time, the old paint flaking but still holding on. But then the hotel was full of impossible things, and still it stood, as if only to spite those who would question it.

The most prominent of these images hung in the very centre of the arrangement, a large painting dated over a thousand years in the past. A subtitle had been carefully calligraphed underneath:

The Overlook Hotel Inaugural Ball

The painting itself depicted a vast and opulent celebration in the hotel’s ballroom, still recognisable even though the decoration had changed significantly in the years since. Ponies in dated suits and exuberant dresses, all cheering and applauding, raising their glasses high and dancing to music that – if one listened very carefully – one could almost hear, still floating through the hotel’s empty corridors.

But the most striking aspect of the painting came from the two ponies in the front and centre. Tall, towering over the ponies behind them cheering them on. One midnight blue, the other snow white. Alicorns. Princesses.

Sisters.

Celestia and Luna, wrapped in a passionate, loving embrace, complete with a deep and lustful kiss.