Artful finished his painting with the last, perfect brush stroke. He returned it to the tray after dipping it in clear water and swirling it around, then stepped back to gaze at his newest creation. It was nothing grand, merely an assortment of fruits in a shallow bowl, which was, in turn, on a tablecloth, and the background was some random wallpaper pattern he remembered seeing that one time. The fruits had various tiny imperfections, spots that attracted the eye, various bumps and, in the case of an apple, what one would call a scar. The painting contained a variety of textures as well as a challenge to shade it all correctly, and thankfully there was only one light source that Artful needed to keep in mind. He could have perhaps placed a candelabra in there, to make it more difficult yet that much more satisfying to do, but it would have taken longer to finish, and Artful didn’t feel like it was what he wanted.

When one had a talent mark, there was always a feeling of right and wrong when following that talent, and Artful felt like this painting in particular didn’t need any more detail or time spent on it. He thus left it to dry while he thoroughly cleaned his brushes, then dried them off, and packed all his painting supplies away into a bag. As he did so, his mind shifted to a different painting he had made, a painting of Wild.

On a purely professional side of things, Wild was a joy to draw. He had definite, sharp features that could easily be translated into lines, and his muscle definition could work as an easy reference. His color scheme as a pony was relatively simple - Artful shuddered to imagine how much it would take to paint Princess Celestia correctly - and his body overall was nice and smooth and easy to paint.

On a far less professional side of things, Wild was handsome. As far as Artful could remember, he had a thing for knights. As a foal, he had read many romance novels featuring knights, and even before he knew he was a stallion, the romance novels were all about gay romance. He realized now that it was a sign that he was a stallion, although that realization had to wait until he was no longer living under his biological progenitors. He did his best not to think about them anymore, so he brushed all the painful memories aside, knowing that they would not repeat, and he was know who he truly was and wanted to be.

Artful knew it was true that the initial attraction he had to Wild was physical. While Wild was not officially a knight, he was handsome and he wielded a sword, a combination of which made something inside of Artful tingle pleasantly. After seeing Wild in all his glory during the tournament, Artful decided to approach him.

In the following days and weeks that Artful knew Wild, it wasn’t uncommon for Artful to fall asleep or to wake up to certain fantasies he had. He rubbed himself on the bed sheets as he imagined pleasuring Wild, feeling wanted and desired, the two exchanging hot, passionate kisses. He longed to feel Wild’s muscles as they moved to pleasure Artful, to hear his moans, to see him in all his sexy glory, and there were many more images Artful had that he kept to himself. One day, perhaps they would be real, but Artful knew not to push where it wasn’t welcome.

Wild was, without a doubt, not the kind of person who would go for casual sex or would easily allow intimacy in general. It all came from his personality, and what Artful discovered of it would, perhaps, make others quickly change their mind on pursuing Wild.

First of all, Wild shied away from touch, which already made him, in the eyes of others, odd and weird. Touch was, universally among ponies, the language of love and care, a form of communication most grew up with since they were born. Artful, however, knew what it was like to not want to be touched. Before his body was changed to fit who he really was, he did not like physical contact, for every touch was a reminder that he was wearing a skin not his own. He could never fully look at himself in the mirror then, knowing that all he could ever see was wrong wrong wrong, as if someone was screaming those very words at him. Once his body fit him, once it stopped feeling like a flesh prison, he still, for a long time, shunned touch, fearing he would feel just like before. To this day, he sometimes had to remind himself that his body was now truly his own, that it was right, that it fit, that everything about it was just like he wanted it to be.

It had taken Artful a long time to unlearn the behavior his biological progenitors - he refused to call them parents - wanted of him. They only saw him for his wrong body, not for his mind or his soul. They thought he was lying, that he was simply seeking attention he was not owed, that he had to swallow his complaints and be a mare his biological progenitors wanted him to be. He had come a long way since he feared discovery when he tried to deepen his voice despite his then-youth, when he tried to find a way to make himself into a mare despite how much he didn’t want to if only so that his biological progenitors would accept him, when... there were enough things to remember indeed, and he had no desire to relive them anymore.

Now, Artful knew they were wrong to treat him like that, and he would be quite happy if he never saw them again. He, of course, knew their names, and he could perhaps learn of their fate after the authorities were involved and had launched an investigation into what they had done to him.

When he was asked if he wished to learn, if he wanted to follow the court case, if he wanted to confront them... he decided that it was not worth it.

"I don't want to know," he had said then, his voice steady, "I don't want them in my life, and I won't give them my attention."

Sometimes, he wanted to go back on his word, to request to learn about it all, but he had held himself back. With time, he knew he would cease thinking about what could be, could stop thinking of what would happen if only his biological progenitors were not only that but proper parents, but he couldn’t help it sometimes. Rarely now, he dreamed of them saying the words he wanted them to say.

"Good morning, son."

"We are proud of you."

Those dreams happened less and less the more time passed, and he was grateful for it. What those people thought of him was not important, not anymore, and he would neither seek their approval nor hope that they would change.

Artful now had his own name, his own body, and his own future, all in his grasp. He would live his own life, and he would discover his own happiness.

Once he had grown brave enough to look at himself in the mirror, he could finally feel the rightness of his own body. It was finally his own, not just a thing he hated yet could not get rid of. Over time, Artful had gotten into a habit of casual touch, and the insistence of his therapist helped. He remembered how, at the time, it was scary to let anyone this close, and he thought it would be for the best if it never happened. However, he had overcome this despite the difficulties and the awkwardness stemming from his lack of experience. Fortunately, no one judged him for it, no one even asked why, and so he had learned to like the touch and willingly go after the sensation.

Not to say that everything was perfect. Artful knew he was still quite shy and uncertain, and initiating that touch took some effort others simply didn’t need to spend on it. He still had trouble with casual friendly bumps, but at least he could give and receive hugs without much difficulty.

When it came to Wild, it was clear he had experienced some trauma, although Artful did not know what and would not dare ask. The scars that he had had until recently told a story, and Artful had a terrible feeling about it, yet still he did not speak a word of it. Without being told, he knew it was something Wild would want to be kept private, that any interest in it was entirely unwelcome. If Wild ever chose to reveal what those scars were, it would be on his own terms, Artful understood that much.

Despite this, Artful remained attracted not just to his looks but to his personality. There was a certain gentleness to Wild, one that would not be apparent if all anyone ever saw of him was him fighting in his swordsmanship club. Perhaps some would label him a brute, but that was not true, not true at all. There was a side of him that cared about others rather deeply, though Artful could only guess just how deeply it went. This was what made Artful want to pursue him further. Then he learned that Wild cared about the changelings and did not want to see them suffer for the actions of their queen, and that was when it solidified the deal for Artful. It was simple - he decided Wild was truly worth pursuing despite all the hurdles.

Artful, when he was rejected, understood why it happened. Wild was not ready and wanted to become ready, which reminded Artful of times when he was not ready, when he needed to get better first before involving himself with anyone. He wondered when Wild would be ready, and if Artful would be the one Wild would pursue. While it would perhaps sting if Wild chose someone over him, Artful would do his best to let it go. Attraction was not something one could control, after all.

When Artful exited the Art Club, he realized that perhaps he would get an answer to the relationship question this very day. Wild was standing off to the side, his eyes on Artful, although there was nervousness about him. Artful couldn't say he was the best at figuring ponies out, but there was really one thing Wild could be at all nervous about when it came to Artful.

“Oh, hi!” Artful greeted him cheerfully, “Everything alright?”

Artful was possibly the only one that knew of Wild’s therapy sessions, and he made it clear that he supported Wild and would never make fun of him for getting therapy. Whatever happened during the last session, led Wild to Artful, and Artful had a feeling he knew what Wild and his therapist talked about. However, he decided to let Wild speak his mind, just in case Artful was wrong.

“Hi,” Wild greeted him in that pleasant and soft voice of his, which bore an accent Artful knew nothing of, “I...” he swallowed, an expression of frustration appearing on his face, and then he started signing. He asked if Artful wanted to talk, somewhere in private.

“Alright,” Artful gave him a nod, then let Wild lead the way. Unsurprisingly, Wild had already picked a spot, which was one of the many rooms in the Royal Orphanage. This one was a simple sitting room, with just enough space for two ponies to sit opposite each other on the sofas, surrounded by a bookshelf on one side and a large painting of a boreal forest on the other.

Artful set his painting supplies bag to the side after unbuckling it from his body, and sat down on one of the sofas. Wild, stiffly and awkwardly, sat on the other.

“I...” Wild cleared his throat, “I thought about... um... I, uh...” he did not look at Artful as he fumbled with his words, “Remember when I... when we, when we talked about... having a relationship?”

Artful nodded, giving Wild an encouraging smile.

“So, I... I said I was not ready, and... I mean...” Wild continued, one of his front hooves tapping against the sofa, his body rocking slowly side to side, “I have... problems. With touch. Sometimes, I have... bad days. It’s... difficult for me... to understand my emotions. And I... do not know much about, um, having friends. Or... romantic things,” he seemed to swallow his next few words, but Artful waited patiently, listening closely, “And I thought... um... well, uh... I... want to try a relationship. With you. If, um, you accept my... difficulties,” Wild seemingly wilted after saying those words.

“Sometimes I have difficulties too,” Artful confessed, aiming to reassure Wild that he wasn’t alone, that it was nothing to be ashamed about, “I’m not very good at, um, touching. Sometimes, I have to remind myself that my body is my own. Bad days happen too, when I... remember some bad things.”

Wild straightened and looked at him, now fully attentive.

“I... experience the same,” Wild nodded, “I have... many bad memories.”

“Yeah... me too,” Artful said, “But I remind myself that it’s behind me, that I have a life outside of that. I know it’s never going away, because it happened, you know? But... there are things to look forward to too. I just need to, well, allow myself to feel bad sometimes, because it’s alright to feel bad about those things, but I also have to recognize that, well, they’re not happening anymore.”

“Yes, that, exactly!” Wild nodded enthusiastically, “I... I want to move on, and... I know things are going to be bad, but... I want something better.”

“Yeah,” Artful smiled widely at him, “So, I’m fine with having difficulties. You have your difficulties, and I have mine, and that’s fine. I’m fine with working with your difficulties.”

“And... I am fine with yours,” Wild’s face gained a small smile, “So... we are... trying... a relationship, yes?”

“Yep,” Artful said, “So, I guess, well, it’s time we talk about what we want out of this relationship. You know, I tell you my deal-breakers, you tell me yours, all that.”

“Oh. Okay,” Wild nodded, “Do I... start?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“Alright,” Wild nodded again, “I, um... I...” he blushed in embarrassment, “I never... did this before, and... I need... some time to think.”

“No problem, there’s no need to hurry,” Artful said encouragingly. He silently congratulated himself for not becoming a stuttery mess much like Wild was. Having known Wild for some time now, it definitely helped with finding his words and speaking them. When he first talked with Wild, it was likely that he would babble on and on about one vaguely related thing or the other while trying to find a thread to follow so that the conversation would end well.

For a while, the two sat in silence as Wild thought of what to say. It could be called awkward, but, in truth, it wasn’t. Artful was perfectly willing to give him time, to be patient with him, as he was aware that their relationship would not be simple. Wild had his past, Artful had his own, and the two would have to figure out how to work together.

“I know one thing I do not want,” Wild finally spoke, “I... do not want foals. Ever.”

“To be frank, neither do I,” Artful said.

Any talk of having foals reminded Artful of his old body’s capability of bearing them, which firmly put them out of any future possibilities. It was perhaps unfair to the concept of having foals, considering that it was entirely possible to go the adoption route, but it couldn’t be helped. Artful simply had no desire to have foals in any way. It was true that he was young, and that many young ponies went to experience life before settling down with foals later in life, but Artful simply could not see himself doing the same. Having foals, that is - he was perfectly willing to experience more things that life had to offer, once he saved up enough money. Art wasn't exactly the easiest thing in the world to earn money off of, after all.

“I... may sometimes need... time for myself,” Wild continued.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Artful nodded, “You have to have your alone time, you know?”

Wild nodded to that before growing thoughtful again.

“If we... sleep together, sometimes... I will want to sleep alone,” he said, “And it’s not... it’s just...”

“You don’t need to justify it to me,” Artful stopped him, “I understand. Don’t feel bad about it.”

“And there is also... things about sex,” Wild said, “I... well, I... would want it... someday. Don’t know when. But... it, um... it may be awkward. And... I maybe will have bad memories in the middle, and, um, want to stop.”

“Alright,” Artful said softly, getting an idea of what Wild truly meant, and the realization of exactly why Wild would have difficulties with intimacy was... far from pleasant. Still, he didn't let it take over him, and he certainly would not ask Wild to elaborate on it. Whenever Wild wanted to stop for whatever reason, Artful would do just that and not even wonder as to the reason why. It was simply something that he didn't need to know, “When you need to stop, we stop. No questions asked.”

“Good,” Wild nodded, relaxing minutely, “It’s just...”

“Wild,” Artful said, making him look at him, “You don’t need to justify any of it. I can accommodate, and I want to accommodate. You don’t need to explain if you don’t want to.”

“Oh. Um, thank you,” Wild dipped his head in a nod, relaxing even further, “Um... and, most important... please do not ask me about the... bad memories.”

“Unless you want me to, I won’t,” Artful promised, “And same with mine. Anything about me before my transition is, well, off-limits.”

“Alright,” Wild replied easily, “You are, well... a stallion. You are... who you now are. You know?”

“...Thank you,” Artful gave a nod. Despite how awkward Wild’s words were, they were certainly sincere, and Artful appreciated them.

“And... I think that is... everything?” Wild let out a large sigh then, “Maybe more, but... I cannot think of more.”

“We’ll figure it out as we go along,” Artful offered, “Now, you, well, just heard my own deal-breakers. No talk of pre-transition, no talking about bad memories, well, unless I offer, and, you know, same for you, and no foals. If there’s more, we’ll figure it out. Communication and all that, it’s important in a relationship.”

Wild nodded. For a short while, both were silent.

“So, we now... begin?” Wild asked awkwardly, “What... changes?”

“Well, we can do, you know, things,” Artful let out a small laugh, eliciting a smile on Wild’s face, “We don’t need to change anything if it works. We do things together sometimes and all.”

“Yes... I like that. Doing things together,” Wild said, “Um...” he now had a deep, dark blush, “If... if we are in a relationship now... I want it to start... if you want to... with a... with a,” then, the next word was almost a whisper, “Kiss.”

Artful felt a blush of his own arise even as he nodded and stood up from the sofa, Wild following him. Wordlessly, the two got close together, close enough that each could feel the other’s hot breath on their faces. Artful noticed how their front legs almost collided and, to avoid an awkward situation, he made a few tiny steps so that his right front leg went in the space between Wild's front legs, and his left leg would be to Wild's side. This way, they can be close without actually bumping their legs together.

“I... never kissed before,” Wild admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes aimed straight at Artful’s lips with both desire and uncertainty.

“It’s my first kiss too,” Artful admitted, his voice soft, “It is... my first relationship.”

“My first too,” Wild said, and then two got even closer. It would have probably been awkward if either of the two really thought about it, but Wild was all too focused on not messing it up, and Artful was close along similar lines. They were so close that, if one of them stuck their tongue out, they’d be able to touch the lips of the other.

It was Wild who, slowly and carefully, closed the rest of the distance, pressing his lips to Artful’s. The two closed their eyes, and Artful heard Wild’s rear hooves changing position, and Wild pushed slightly forward, adjusting the position of his lips until both could feel the moisture. Artful’s wings fluttered slightly at the sensation, and he could feel a deep warmth spread throughout his body.

After what felt like forever, it was Wild who stepped back first, opening his eyes, his breath heavier than before.

“Wow...” he said, his eyes full of amazement and joy, his cheeks full of crimson. He licked his lips, then repeated, “Wow...”

“Do you want me to give you a kiss?” Artful asked, feeling flushed with heat as well.

“Yes,” Wild said, and the two met again, this time with Artful who initiated the kiss. There was no tongue play, no moans, and little movement, just the soft pressure of his lips on Wild’s and the sensation of moisture where they pressed together.

A while passed, and the two separated at the same time, blushing furiously and with wide, happy smiles on their faces, breathing heavily.

Artful couldn’t say what Wild felt, but he was ecstatic. His first relationship, his first kiss, and all with a stallion that he really wanted to be his. He couldn’t know what the future held for them, but he had a very good feeling about it, and he would embrace this future with the entirety of himself. But first, he wanted to ask a question.

“Would you like to... cuddle with me?” he asked. Either of the two sofas was big enough for the two of them, after all, and the privacy of this room meant the two, hopefully, would be left alone for a while.

Wild did not hesitate to offer a nod, and then the two shuffled until both of them fit comfortably on the sofa, with Artful draping a wing over Wild, his head comfortably in the nook between Wild’s head and chest. Artful wondered what spooning would feel like, but, unfortunately, it would be difficult, considering that his wings would get in the way.

Wild shifted in place, then Artful’s muzzle received a kiss from the side. Wild then turned his head away.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t be,” Artful said, returning with a kiss to Wild’s jaw, “You can kiss me if you want. I will tell you if I want you to stop.”

“A-alright,” Wild nodded, “And... same for me.”

And so the two rested, exchanging soft kisses every so often, and everything felt as if it was exactly how it was supposed to be, and neither of them minded that feeling.

Author's Note

I'm not trans myself, but I hope I depicted Artful in a realistic enough way. If I am somehow terribly wrong about this portrayal, feel free to correct me.

And now, Wild and Artful are finally together. Let's see where that goes. As someone who doesn't experience romantic attraction, I hope I have written this with the right amount of romance as well as a bit of awkwardness due to neither of them having experience in intimacy of this sort.