Sparkling Cider loved strength of character. But what she loved even more was strength. Period.
“What are you gonna do, Sparky?” Ivory cooed, her smirk so wide it burned the back of Sparkling’s head through pillows and bedsheets. “Poke me with one of your bottle openers?”
“Don’t call me that,” Sparkling groused and pouted, batting her legs to try and kick the welcomed intruder riding her back.
Out of reach, Sparkling switched tactics. She began to push back against the mattress to free herself, as hard as she could.
Very hard. Vein-poppingly hard!
She bit her lips, grunted — wheezed. To no avail. Ivory was tall, big, annoying. Annoyingly big and tall.
Sparkling puckered her lips and collapsed in defeat. She wasn’t much of an Element of Honesty in the bedroom. She kinda liked that state of affairs, if only a little.
Alright, fine. A lot...
Enjoying a small respite from Ivory’s grasp, Sparkling turned her head to the window. The late morning sunlight pierced through the crack in between two thin cream curtains, casting the room’s white and salmon walls in a subdued golden hue.
The song of cicadas watted in from the nearby trees outside, the ones that marked the edge of Ivory’s town: Ponyville. Really, a small enclaved hamlet that didn’t compare at all with Manehattan. The cacophony of insects and distant farm animals had replaced that of cars and people. It was a change. A welcome one.
Ivory’s hand combed through Sparkling’s short-trimmed hair, and shoved her back down into the mattress.
“Little Opal wiggles a lot,” Ivory chuckled.
Her face and teeth sunk deep into a clean pillow, Sparkling twisted to snake away, only managing to turn her head and gasp for air. “And they’re not called bottle openers, they’re tire-bouchons! You rough coal-peddl–”
Ivory leaned forward and forced Sparkling back into the sea of feathers and fabric. “Fancy talk, sweet cake,” she tut-tutted.
Sparkling fought against a strengthening grip, grunted, pushed, failed, tried again. Nothing. She gave up and dropped fully against the cushy bed mattress. Ivory followed her.
That broad lady Sparkling was marvelously happy to call her girlfriend lined up over and against her; feet, legs, torso, and head alike. A hot blanket of a girlfriend. Firm, forceful, and vigorous.
“You reek,” Sparkling muttered, hands gripped over a loose patch of bedsheet as she scrunched up her muzzle at the pungent smell of sweat. Remarks were the only mode of power she had left.
A dusty white hand reached and covered Sparkling’s lips. Tightly.
“Do I?” Ivory whispered in a husky hushed voice, her warm breath brushing over Sparkling’s ear, her lips gently touching the earlobe at times.
Ivory’s other hand went down and locked around Sparkling’s waist. Fingers wrapped against one side, she carried Sparkling further up on the mattress. With two hefty legs laid against hers, Sparkling found herself curled in a fetal position, spooned head to toe, her back locked against a girdling girl made of granite. One hiding a lava core.
Ivory did smell of sweat. That was a bedtime truth, but it was a stingy perfume Sparkling had learned to appreciate — in a sense. Acrid, salty, but Ivory’s. Her girlfriend’s.
Still, Ivory could really have taken a shower before dragging Sparkling up to the bed. That barbarian. Sparkling had just changed the sheets! Didn’t that tall chimney sweep know how far the dry cleaner was in that puny Ponyville town of hers?
Tartarus and damnation. Country ponies just didn’t know how to optimize their time. And take care of their wares by the by.
“ You rascal. I’ve just changed the sheets,” Sparkling pestered, echoing her thoughts.
“Hoodwinker. You smell too, you know?”
“You’re just being mean now.” Sparkling pouted.
“Tut-tut, apple face.”
Sparkling turned her head to stick out her tongue, but a foreign hand wrapped tighter around her belly. Ivory bent forward and locked Sparkling in. Battle ensued! Sparkling hammered her legs and pitched, gnawing at a stray pale finger in the hope to see Ivory eye to eye. Or catch one of her sempiternel grins.
Wriggling like a fish in a cage, her arms bound tight in Ivory’s embrace, Sparkling kicked even stronger, sending the bedsheets flying and with them, cool air waltzed over her body. The welcomed freshness of the breeze bit where Ivory’s sweat had smeared upon her skin.
“Bully...” she mused, an eye peering out of her makeshift pillow fort. The red door that locked them out of the rest of the house was open by a slit. “Is Marble home?”
“Oh, you pure maiden,” Ivory cackled. She arched over Sparkling, close enough they could kiss. Sparkling wished for it, puckering her lips smeared with auburn lipstick.
Ivory dragged her tongue across Sparkling’s cheek.
“Yuck!” Sparkling spouted, slapping about trying to force Ivory away from getting more– more herself! “Get off, you swine!”
Her girlfriend lay down and pinned her yet again. Sparkling reached out around her head and grabbed onto Ivory’s mess of hair. Wet and glistening under the slice of sunlight peering through the window, she locked her hands over a few clumps and brought them to her muzzle.
The curtains flapped with a hot, humid summer wind that carried itself across the room. Sparkling was burning, and regretted not buying a fan before departing from Manehattan. Now in Ponyville without a proper store in sight, summer announced itself to be rough and batteringly bright.
Sparkling glanced back at Ivory who smiled, eyes closed, her chin nearly resting against her scalp. Like a sleeping giant.
On her side, Sparkling rolled her eyes, let go of Ivory’s hair, and instead pressed her manicured fingers around the sculpted arms wrapped around her shoulders.
Sparkling muttered. Tension and knots underneath lied at her fingertips, past the caked roughness of dried sweat on Ivory’s skin. With that dumb miner of hers, this summer was going to be a long series of laundry chores.
“Whatcha thinking about, apple pie?” Ivory asked.
She opened one of her deep blue eyes, and shifted closer to Sparkling to lay her cheek next to her ear. She didn’t miss out on nibbling at it. A few times.
A shiver of delight thundered across Sparkling at the mercy of Ivory’s hands. One slid on her shoulder, the other ran over her side and hip. Both hands rubbed against her gooseflesh, scrubbings that spread waves of tingles deep down Sparkling’s legs and wiggling toes.
Sparkling clasped her palms together against her chest and Ivory’s free hand came back up and over, closing around the joined hands. Ivory’s biceps rolled against her shoulder and she dug her face into Sparkling’s short hair, her chin coming to rest against her petite neck.
“You said I smelled, huh?” Sparkling mumbled, pressing her legs back against Ivory’s who closed the gap further.
Locked into a fetal position, safe and cozy, though hot and drenched, Sparkling dragged Ivory’s hand to rest over her eyes, to screen the pouring sunlight through the slits between her girlfriend’s fingers.
“I hope I don’t stink,” she continued, cooing. “It’s so hot, down south.”
Ivory’s teeth chattered into her girlfriend’s ear, startling her. A series of exaggerated sniffs around her golden mane followed. That was… sensual...
Sparkling grumbled. Here she was in Ivory’s wrapped arms, being mocked. She! The astute and business-hardened Cider Mare. Cider Mare... Damn Ivory, Sparkling did hate that name. That, urgh, sobriquet. At least it was better than Plumpled Butt, Sunscreen, or worse — she shivered — Sparky.
Sparkling rolled over; or at least tried to worm her way around. She threw her head back and caught a glimpse of Ivory’s wide grin in between her disheveled and dirty purple hair. Long gone was the bun she wore at work. Only the grey strap that used to hold it remained, entangled in a strand of hair.
Ivory shifted around at a crawling speed, pushing down as she rose to sit on her knees, atop Sparkling’s back, who could only bite down on her matted pillow. Sparkling threw her hands back, unable to reach Ivory far with her trimmed nails. She gave a few playful scratches while pushing to find some slack. She liked those red marks on her girlfriend’s lap. It always made its way around the talks in those towns.
There was no slack to be found at all.
Sparkling tacked her legs and waist against Ivory’s full-on weight. And the hands of her white goddess landed against her shoulder blades, pinning Sparkling down. She huffed, gasped out of air — quivered with a smile. The pressure of ten spread fingers and large palms against her back forced satisfying pops out of her spine and she shivered more. Tiny pinpricks of light danced in her eyes and she wiped her brow against her pillow.
“Love it,” she murmured, imagining the medley of colors that was the sight.
Cold, purple hair dangling down to brush against her light orange back. White hands pressed down, catching the biting sunlight.
“Louder please,” Ivory smirked.
“You heard me!” Before Sparkling’s snit could escape her lips and pillow, Ivory clapped her hands down and drowned the coming growl. Sparkling wormed her head out. “Boor.”
Ivory laughed and pressed down, fingers starting their work.
They kneaded skin and tissues beneath. Espousing each line and muscle, towing the space around gently popping articulations. Sparkling bent under the strength of her ladylove; revelled in the fizziness that ensnarled her whole. Ivory knew her twists and folds.
“You fold like a beginner at a Las Pegas casino,” Ivory snarked, working her fingers up to Sparkling’s shoulders and around both sides of her collarbone. Sparkling purred like a cat. “I expected resistance from a business mare.”
“Bully,” Sparkling sniped, her lips teetering apart in between two ripples in her pillow.
“Stop complaining, I’m the one plowing here.” How lyrical... Ivory’s hands crawled back and down under Sparkling’s armpits, and scratched at the skin. “Missed your shaving appointment, have you?”
Sparkling kicked, bit, rolled, and cursed. Or hoped to. She didn’t budge, couldn’t. Ivory was too much of a monolith. “You bitch.”
Ivory laughed again and went further down along Sparkling’s sides right where neurons fired and tendons tensed the best, the weak points of Sparkling’s flawless lines.
Ivory pressed her rear down harder, earning a little huff from her lil’ Spark. Her hands dug between the mattress and mined for Sparkling’s belly, where her calloused fingertips furthered forward till they met over a pristine, orange belly button.
At last, Ivory leaned forward and lied down over Sparkling again. All good and dandy for Sparkling, rejoicing under the firm weight of her girlfriend pinning her into a cage of safety. Ivory’s heavy breathing thrummed against her back. They enjoyed the silence.
For a time.
Birds chirped outside. The wind danced with the curtains. A cart careened somewhere near. And Ivory’s fingers wiggled between the bed and Sparkling’s tummy, tightened and worked their way down. Down, and again. And again.
Sparkling bit her lips, Ivory’s broad shoulders shuffling into a more comfortable position. She felt herself shrinking under the weight, under the pressure, and much more.
Coming to settle down in Ponyville for the summer like a bohemian had been a splendid decision. Sparkling sighed, moaned, and tensed. She was in heaven.
And in heaven she was minuscule, while her alabaster angel was a marble giant. Tall and imposing. Sparkling liked it that way. There, she was a prude, tiny, bratty mare under a benevolent hand. Or rather, two.
Sparkling panted lowly, until she finally found the strength — and breath — to giggle. “I'm so glad you said yes. I love you so very much, hun.”
“Eh, same.”
“I see you’re always the romantic kind, eh?” Sparkling deadpanned, pinned under like a vulgar runt.
“I dig raw diamonds,” Ivory said, the smug dripping off her like her sweat, “not spout poetry.”
“And I’m a rough diamond, right?”
The answer didn’t come quickly enough and Sparkling bit the bed and threw her head back to give her Ivory a cocked eyebrow. With Ivory’s hands locked around her belly and arms, they both rolled to the side to spoon again. Facing the window.
“I’m no jeweler,” Ivory said in a hushed tone, “but I know how to sand a gem, if you catch my drift.”
Sparkling cocked both her brows this time and shook her head. Romantic indeed. “Blimey.”
As Ivory let her tight clamp relax, Sparkling turned around and pressed her face in the crux of Ivory’s rough-cast chest and neck, and took in the burning presence of her dear girlfriend. Strong breaths at a time.
Under all that mass of purple hair, she did finally find a diamond of her own.
“I love you.”
Author's Note
ngl, eight-foot tol Amazonians are valid
