I'll never understand why Sunset Shimmer loves me.
Don't get me wrong, I know she does—and not just because she tells me every day. Sunset is the kind of person who's all-or-nothing with every aspect of her life, so I know that if she likes me enough to want to hold me or kiss me, she must really, truly love me with all her heart. I guess I just wish I could see in me whatever she sees. I know it must exist, though. Sunset is so sure, so certain, that there's no way she could be wrong.
She's a lot smarter than I am, so I don't think I'll ever understand it the way she does, no matter how she tries to explain it to me. My dumb, lumpy brain just isn't capable of comprehending things the way Sunset does. That's okay, though. Maybe I don't need to understand. Sunset being with me at all is proof enough that there's something about me worth loving.
That same confidence, so bright and overflowing, is also… Let's call it fragile when it comes to how Sunset feels about herself. Most people, even her closest friends, have no idea how much anxiety and doubt Sunset struggles with on a daily basis, but for whatever reason, I can see through the cracks in her veneer.
Maybe because I have so many cracks of my own.
I think it's a good thing, though. Maybe that's part of why Sunset loves me as much as she does. When we're together, she doesn't have to worry about hiding the parts of herself she's not proud of, because she knows I see them already. She knows, despite whatever flaws she thinks she has, that I love her the same way she loves me—fully and completely.
Such thoughts give me a little extra comfort on nights like tonight, when we're alone in her apartment—no, our apartment—and the rotten parts of my brain keep screaming at me that she'd be happier if someone else was here in my place. Someone more open, more willing to take hold of those intimate little hints Sunset makes from time to time.
I really shouldn't be complaining. The list of people who'd love to see Sunset Shimmer nude has to be hundreds of names long, yet I'm the only one in the whole world lucky enough to have actually done it. I'm the only one who's ever slept beside her, the only one to have her press her body against mine, even if it's through the thick gray sweatshirt I wear to bed every night. She chooses to share herself with me, Wallflower Blush, the weird, sad plant girl, for some crazy who-the-fuck-knows reason.
If only I could return the favor. She deserves as much, and… and it's not like I don't want to. It's just not that easy for me. We've been together for close to seven months now, lived together for three, but she still hasn't even seen me without the frumpy, oversized sweaters I hide beneath all day, every day.
I tug at the sleeve of my sweater as I curl into a tighter ball against Sunset, burying myself a little more in her embrace.
I really am a horrible girlfriend.
No, no, that's not fair. Sunset is always telling me how important it is to be fair to myself, and part of that is advocating in my own head for why I feel how I feel. I mean, of course I don't want her to see me without my sweater. I don't want anyone to see.
It's not like she doesn't know why either, which is almost certainly why she's so patient with me. Even if I don't deserve it.
She's so good to me.
We've talked about it. We talk about it a lot actually, which I guess is kind of inevitable, given how big a part of my life it's been for so long. It's a little eerie how easy it is to talk about it now, at least with her. I still haven't told the counselor I've been seeing at CSU, but it's important to be fair to myself. I've only had two appointments so far, and both she and Sunset keep telling me to take things at my own pace. I'm not sure that's a good idea, honestly, because if I just took things at the pace I wanted to, I'd probably be dead by now.
I'm glad I'm snuggled up against Sunset in the position I am. At least this way she can't see me scowling at myself for having such stupid thoughts again.
"Wally? You okay?"
Oh yeah.
Sometimes I forget that even without her supernatural empathy, Sunset can always tell when I'm upset. Somehow, I always think this time will be the time she won't notice, and every time she proves me wrong.
I probably tensed up or something without thinking. Idiot.
"I-I don't know," I say. Whenever I don't talk for a while, the first words I say are always kinda dry and scratchy and I hate it. "Just thinking stupid things."
"Oh yeah?" Her voice is so clear, even when it's just above a whisper. "What kind of stupid things?"
I hug my arms to my chest and sigh. "I hate that part of me still feels like I have to hide stuff from you."
"I don't think that's stupid," Sunset says.
"Well it feels stupid," I say, and immediately regret it. Mom was right, I really do sound like a whiny brat sometimes.
Sunset rubs my shoulder in a slow, repeating motion. It really isn't fair just how comforting such a small thing can be. "There's nothing wrong with having boundaries. If you're not ready to open up about some stuff, then you don't—"
"But I already have, that's just it." I rudely interrupt her like the socially inept cretin I am. "I-it's not like you don't already know, just…"
"Ah." Sunset's tone is painfully neutral. Is she forcing that just for my benefit? Would a more natural tone be one of disgust? Of course it would, it should, I'm—
No, shut up, Wallflower. Stop trying to read her mind. That's her talent, not mine. Even if it feels like I know what she's thinking, I don't—I can't know for sure. It's not fair to assign my own hateful thoughts about myself to her as well. That's what my therapist says anyway. I'm still not sure I believe it, but I can pretend to at least. For Sunset's sake, if not my own.
"So," Sunset continues, as if I didn't almost spiral down the drain of self-hatred just now, "how many days clean are you at now?"
Twenty-nine days, seventeen hours, and about thirty minutes, give or take a few.
"Almost a month," I say quietly.
Her arm around me squeezes me close, and she softly nuzzles my head. "I'm so proud of you, Wally," she says. I can practically hear the smile on her lips.
Sunset is proud of me. Shouldn't I be proud of me, too? Do I even want to be? How can I be proud of avoiding something so core to my identity that I don't even know who I am without it?
No, that's not being fair to myself again, idiot. That's exactly why I'm trying to stop. I want to be—deserve to be more than Wallflower Blush, the sad loser who cuts herself. I meant it when I said I don't know who I am without self-harm, but that's exactly what I want to find out, right? That's the whole point of counting the days, of going to therapy, of getting away from my parents and moving in with Sunset, all of it.
Too little, too late. No amount of stupid optimism will undo what I've already done to myself.
"Wally? Did you hear me?"
Sunset's voice jolts me back to the present. "S-sorry, what? I zoned out a bit."
"I asked if you'd be willing to try something," she says.
I twist around in her one-armed embrace until I'm facing her. "Depends on what it is."
"If you didn't have to hide it from me anymore, wouldn't that make life so much less stressful?"
"W-well yeah, but it's not that easy," I say. That's an understatement, really. The thought of Sunset seeing me, really seeing me, puts a knot in my throat. She'd never think of me the same afterwards, I know it. She might just break up with me on the spot, and I wouldn't blame her.
"I know it's not easy." Sunset puts her hands on my shoulders and looks right at me with those bright blue eyes. "And it's not impossible either."
Her eyes are so pretty. That's all I can think about. I'm supposed to be saying something but all of my meager brainpower is being consumed thinking about just how stupidly pretty Sunset Shimmer is, and how stupidly lucky I am to be her girlfriend.
If she sees, I might lose her. What am I supposed to do though, hide my body from her for the rest of my life? I… I want this to work. I want to be with her long-term, and I know she wants the same, and that means eventually we'll…We'll be together in the way I know she's wanted for a long time.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't want it too, but again, it's not that easy. What am I supposed to do, just be like, 'Sorry Sunset, the scar-hiding hoodie stays on during sex?' Of course that wouldn't work, and besides, it's not like my thighs are any better than my arm. I'm awful to look at all over.
Again, Sunset's voice pulls my brain back to reality. She smiles that perfect, pretty smile of hers as she brushes my bangs aside and tucks them behind my ear. "I love you, Wallflower," she says. "I really, really do."
My soul always lights up when Sunset Shimmer says those words to me of all people. Yet another impossible miracle she can make happen like it's no big deal. Her gaze meets mine, and in those gorgeous blue eyes, I can make out something steely, something like cold and true determination.
"No amount of scars will ever change that," she says.
"Oh." My voice comes out as a squeak. I should say something else, but it's taking all my mental and emotional energy just to keep the sudden tears in my eyes from spilling out.
"If you want to," Sunset says, "and you think it'll be good for you, then I think it's worth making yourself do something that feels really difficult now, because everything after will be easier."
Suddenly her face is right in front of mine, her hands on my cheeks, and just like that she's kissing me. My heart is doing flips, just like it does every time. Her lips are so soft, so warm, so—
When Sunset pulls away, she's wearing an ear-to-ear grin. "And when you do, I'll give you another kiss just like that one," she says as she hugs me tight, "to prove I still love you just as much."
How am I supposed to say no to that?
She's right. I know she's right. Even with every alarm bell in my head screaming at me to stop, I know hiding myself from her can't go on forever. Not if I'm ever going to be with her in the way I want to be.
"Okay," I whisper, and Sunset smiles again.
I fidget my way out of her embrace, drop my fingers to the hem of my sweater, and… and I stop.
This is a bad idea. It has to be. The second Sunset sees them, she'll recoil in horror and—
No, no, that isn't true. Sunset loves me. She's told me so a thousand times by now. I have to trust that she'll be as understanding about this as she is about everything else that's wrong with me. Besides, she already knows what she's about to see, so what am I even scared of?
That's such a stupid, stupid question. Having to look at what I've done to myself is so much worse than just hearing about it. All the unsubtle glares and whispers of my peers, my parents, of everyone over the years whenever I failed to properly cover my scars served as reminders of why I always wear long sleeves around others. I'm disgusting. I'm disfigured, mutilated. And worst of all, I did it to myself, crafting a foolproof deterrent against any kind of genuine human connection.
But Sunset's still here with me. She still asked me to be her girlfriend. She still tells me she loves me every day without fail, even if it's just a whisper in my ear before she falls asleep.
Sunset loves me. All I can do is trust her when she says she'll still love me after this.
With a sharp inhale, I pull off my sweater as quickly as I can.
Cool air washes over my bare shoulders. It's actually a nice feeling, but of course it's undercut by the realization that I'm now sitting beside my girlfriend wearing only a loose-fitting tank top, all my shame on display.
Panicked instinct takes over, and I hug myself tight, my left arm tucked in to hide it better. My face is burning up, and I'm suddenly all too aware of where Sunset's sitting, where her eyes are, what her perspective is, and how I can keep my scars out of sight as much as possible.
It's an impossible task. In my periphery, I can see her staring, but I can't blame her—I'm too disgusting, too damaged, too marred by dozens and dozens of little reminders of what a broken, useless shell of a person I am. That's not even mentioning the huge, horrible streak of scar tissue running down my forearm, signaling to Sunset and all the world that I shouldn't even be alive anymore. No matter how I might twist or hide, Sunset will still be able to see them, see how fucked up her girlfriend really is, how much better off she'd be if she threw me back out on the street to die and—
"...Y-you're really pretty," Sunset says.
What?
Is she making fun of me? No, Sunset would never do that—not anymore.
"You're, uhh…" Sunset's eyes are wide. "I mean I knew you were pretty, but like…" She swallows thickly, blinking for the first time since my sweater came off. "Oh gosh…"
That's when I finally realize that it's not my scars she's staring at.
Oh.
Oh.
Just like that, my face goes red again.
Sunset suddenly looks up. "Oh geez, I'm making this weird, I just…" Her eyes trail down to my chest again, and I'm frozen in place like a gay deer in rainbow headlights. "Uhm… You're just really, really pretty and, uhh…"
"N-no, it's okay." I'm stammering like an idiot and I don't know why. "I-I, uhh… I'm glad you think so."
"I guess just, you always wear baggy stuff, and uhm…" Her eyes meet mine again, but only briefly. She swivels away and sits stiffly on the couch, staring at her knees. "Sorry, I shouldn't stare, sorry."
Whatever nightmare scenario I'd been expecting would've been easier to navigate than this. I almost forget about my scars for a moment as my own eyes trail down to my chest.
I don't think I realized just how revealing this tank top was until now. It's not like I ever expected anyone to see me in it, not when I always wear at least one other heftier layer of clothing over it.
I… I should be embarrassed right now. Maybe I kinda am? But there's this other feeling, this soft, fluttery thing in my heart, and it's all I can think about. It's a nicer feeling, one I've never felt before. I'd been expecting stares of revulsion and rejection, but instead Sunset said…
She said I'm pretty. Sunset saw me, all of me, and still thinks I'm pretty.
"So, uhm…" I shuffle a little closer to her while keeping my scarred arm tucked beside me, out of sight as much as possible. "You really like boobs, huh?"
Sunset's face is as red as her hair. "I-I guess so, yeah. Or, I really like, uhm…"
"Y-you really like mine?"
"I like you," Sunset says. "A-and, yeah, I also like… You're just perfect, Wally, really. Everything about you…"
How can she say that after seeing my scars? My stupid tiny brain can't put it together, and for a moment I think I'm gonna start tearing up again.
That doesn't last long though, as Sunset quickly closes in on me and presses her lips to mine, just as she promised she would.
That's when it hits me, I think. That's when I really start to understand what should have been the most obvious thing in the world. She can do this after seeing my scars because she doesn't care. Even if I can't understand how that's possible, I know it's the truth all the same. She doesn't care about them. She only cares about me, and she loves me—all of me, even the parts I'm not proud of.
The same way I love her.
Finally, Sunset pulls away from the kiss. She's breathing just as heavily as I am, her eyes flicking down to my chest when she thinks I'm not looking. Every time she does, I feel that little flutter in my heart again.
This… This is it, if I want it to be. I can see it in her eyes. I felt it in our kiss. Right now, in this moment, Sunset Shimmer wants me. She's just waiting for some sign that I'm okay, that I want her too, because she's patient and caring and she loves me, and suddenly my heart is full of fire as I surge forward to kiss her again.
It's slow, yet insistent, just like the very first time. But in the midst of it, as her hands find my cheeks and we indulge in each other again and again, I feel something new. Some desperate, primal thing in the back of my head is suddenly aching for Sunset to… to touch me.
Surrendering to that impulse, I take her hand in my own and place it on my breast.
The kiss hitches, and Sunset pulls slightly away, just enough to look down, then back up to meet my eyes. She's waiting again. She wants to be sure I want this, and I do. I've wanted this for so long, held back by my own stupid anxieties about my own stupid body and what I've done to it, but Sunset's eyes don't see me that way. I can tell by the way she presses her forehead to mine, by the way she whispers my name, that all she sees is the girl she loves and nothing less.
I'm the luckiest girl in the world to be loved by someone so wonderful. With a deep breath, I let instinct take over and squeeze Sunset's hand on my breast so that she kneads me gently, nodding as I do. It's the only way I can think of to show her how much I want this.
Apparently it works, because next thing I know Sunset's standing up, dragging me up the stairs to the loft and pushing me onto our bed. Before I can even think, she's on top of me, kissing me, one hand on my cheek while the other trails down to my chest again.
She smells like fresh air and cherries, and the one thought I have is that this is really happening. I'm really here, with her, and we're really about to…
Now I'm the one yearning for more and more, kissing deeper, sighing softly as she plays with my chest through my top. It's not enough, though. It's not enough for her and definitely not enough for me. I want her to love me, I want her to feel me, see me, touch me—
I sit up as best I can while still kissing her, breaking away just long enough to pull my tank top off and toss it to the floor. Sunset's hands are immediately around me, even as she kisses me again. The hug turns into something more as I feel her hands drift up and find the clasp of my bra. She pulls the hooks apart, the tension in the straps vanish, and seconds later my bra joins my tank top on the floor.
The loft falls silent. Sunset is staring at me like I'm the most beautiful girl in the world, and for maybe the first time in my life, I feel like I actually am.
"Y-you're perfect, Wally," Sunset says breathily. She's eyeing me like a panther ready to pounce, eyes wide and full of energy. "I-I… I always knew you were, but…" She swallows thickly, then tentatively reaches forward. Her hand, so warm and gentle, cups the side of my breast, and we both shiver. "Mmmh…"
The whole time, I'm aware of Sunset's gaze, of exactly where she's looking. Her eyes never once flick to the horrid array of scar tissue running along my arm. She doesn't care about that, she never cared about that. I just can't believe it took me so long to figure that out.
Sunset spreads her fingers, taking the whole of my breast in her hand. A faint giggle passes between her lips as she briefly meets my eyes with hers. "You literally have perfect boobs," she says, softly squeezing me as my breathing deepens. "Is this okay?"
"Y-yeah." My voice hitches as she rubs around my nipple and oh gosh that feels good, like a bolt of pleasure connected directly to somewhere lower. My head goes back, and I think I see Sunset grinning widely again, but it's hard to tell with my eyes lidded as they are. I don't have to see, though. I don't have to be wary around Sunset like I am with everyone else, with something in the back of my head always on alert for the slightest hint of displeasure or aggression. The sirens that blare in my head all day, every day are silenced by those warm tingles of pleasure I feel as Sunset keeps on playing with me.
Sunset leads me to the head of the bed, laying me down gently on a pillow as she looms over me, smirking as gravity spreads my breasts. She swings a leg over me, straddling me as she leans in for a quick brush of her lips against my own. Looking up at her like that, on top of me and smiling that perfect smile, I swear I fall in love with her all over again. Some stupid thing in my head registers that my scars are exposed, practically on display, but those fears are gone. Sunset sees me, and all she sees is the girl she wants to—
"Aah!" I can't help the cry that escapes me as she pinches and pulls lightly at my nipple. Her other hand rests on my other breast, fingers spread and softly squeezing and kneading. My hips twitch on their own, and in response Sunset starts to rock back and forth herself, her hands never leaving my chest.
Even though I'm the one being played with, Sunset's the one biting her lip and moaning. Is she doing that for me? Just to turn me on? If so, it's a little galling how much it's working. It's always been so easy for her to get me all excited and now I can actually do something about it.
As hard as it is for me to pull myself from the tranquil haze of pleasure Sunset's lulled me into, I force myself to focus. It isn't fair that I'm the only one being touched.
Sunset doesn't seem to notice my hand creeping under her shirt at first, lost in the rhythmic thrusting of her hips against mine and the constant teasing of my nipples. She definitely notices when she feels my fingers sliding up her abdomen.
Have I mentioned how hot my girlfriend is? Because she is. She's really hot.
It's a little absurd, honestly. For someone who apparently wasn't even human for most of her life, Sunset kind of has the perfect body. If I hadn't known I was gay before meeting her, I'm pretty sure one look at Sunset Shimmer would've turned me sapphic on the spot.
She's a bit taller than me, maybe by an inch or so, and built like a ring fighter or something. All that farm work she does in the summers with her friend AJ has left her arms and shoulders fit and firm, a wonderful fact I'm reminded of whenever I'm clinging to her while we're out in public, or right now as my free hand squeezes the dense muscle of her forearm. My other continues drifting up her shirt, driven by a bravery and desire I can't begin to place. It's real all the same, though, and it leads my hand to finally make its way to Sunset's chest.
She gasps at the touch, and confidence swells within me. The sight of my hand, mine, playing with Sunset's breast beneath her shirt only serves to deepen the well of desire within me.
The sounds she's making help too.
Her chest isn't as big as mine, but that's okay. I don't know if I have a preference when it comes to boobs, but if I did, I think it'd be as simple as just saying I prefer Sunset's boobs. As much as she seems to like mine, hers are literally perfect. Just the right size to fill my whole hand as I give her a gentle squeeze in response to her pinching my nipple again. All the while, Sunset keeps shifting, grinding, riding me—moaning and sighing softly like she does in my head whenever I've imagined us making love.
I don't have to imagine anymore, though.
Sunset releases my breasts just long enough to pull her own shirt off and toss it across the room. The sight of my girlfriend, topless and smiling down at me with her face framed by vibrant waves of red and gold hair, is enough to set my heart on fire.
"Mmnh, Wally…" Sunset leans in close, so close I can feel her heartbeat as our chests press together. There's a look of pure excitement and wonder in her eyes—the look of someone about to have their first time. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this," she says before planting a soft kiss on my lips.
What am I supposed to say to that? I feel a little awful for making Sunset wait so long, especially given how badly she wanted it, but… No, that's not right. I'm not a bad girlfriend just because I needed time to be comfortable with Sunset seeing something I'm ashamed of. If anything, Sunset is a good girlfriend for being so patient with me and never pressing me on it before I was ready.
I feel grateful, not guilty. I think I finally get the difference.
That's what it means to let myself be loved.
So, instead of responding with the usual apologies and regret, I just kiss Sunset back and say, "Me too."
The flurry of kisses and touches that happens next are so fast, so deliberate, that I have to wonder if Sunset has been planning exactly how she wanted to do this for as long as we've been together. At first, I do my best to keep up with returning affections, but Sunset stills me with a kiss on the neck.
"Shhh… You don't have to do anything." Her voice… God, her voice, she's practically purring with every word as she kisses down the side of my neck again. "Just let me take care of you."
It's all I can do to nod as shivers run through me, intensifying as Sunset returns to my chest. As I lay myself back fully, her eyes flick up to meet mine, and she flashes a smile at me as her hand kneads my breast again—slowly, softly, rolling it around in the palm of her hand as her fingers dance around the spot where I want her to touch most, teasing and touching so, so close—
"S-Sunset…!"
My voice cracks as I feel the heat and wetness of her tongue on my nipple, but I'm too lost in all the wonderful tingly feelings to be embarrassed about it. Looking down, I can't really see specifically what she's doing as her mouth is somewhere beneath the curve of my breast, but whatever it is it feels amazing.
I've played with my own boobs before—I mean really, what girl hasn't?—but it never felt anywhere close to this good. It's like I can feel what Sunset's doing to my nipple somewhere even lower, and just like that my legs are twitching. Some part of me registers the sounds I'm making, but again it's hard to decide if I'm embarrassed or not. What I do know is that Sunset looks very, very proud of herself.
"Mmmnh, Sunset…"
We're really doing this. She's really doing this, I'm really feeling these feelings, a warmth so pure and powerful that the part of my brain perpetually focused on hiding the parts of myself I'm ashamed of just melts away entirely. My arms move on their own, gripping at the bed, at the pillow, at Sunset's hair, almost like they're searching, reaching out for the only part of my body I can bear to focus on right now.
Are we going too fast? Maybe, but I don't care anymore. It feels so good, Sunset is making me feel so good, and I trust her. I love her. I want her to know how much I trust her, how I want to give myself to her entirely so she can have all of me, every piece of my heart and soul, even the parts I wish weren't there. I never in a million years thought anything like this would ever happen to me, but now that it is, I can't help but be overjoyed that the one I'm sharing this experience with is the only person in the world who can make me feel like I don't have anything to be ashamed of, like I don't have to pretend I'm better than I feel.
I just have to be me. That'll always be enough for Sunset.
Another wave of pleasure has my hips twitching as I reach blindly up to my shoulder, finding Sunset's hand. Taking it, I slowly lead her fingers down and barely into the waistband of my pajamas. I really hope she gets the message because I'm not sure I could speak a complete sentence right now.
Her rhythm slows, and her eyes widen a bit as she looks up at me, lips still wrapped around my nipple. She's staring at me—waiting for me. Oh gosh, have her eyes always been so pretty? I could stare into those beautiful blue eyes for ages… except because she's waiting it means she's not touching and those warm, wonderful feelings are starting to fade.
I meet her gorgeous gaze and nod frantically, and I catch a smirk forming on her lips for just a moment before they return to their task. Only this time, they're not alone. As she gently kisses and suckles at my breast, one hand returns to lazily play with the other, and her other hand at last slides down my tummy to disappear beneath my waistband and between my legs.
As soon as I feel her fingers drift along my folds, some dumb horny animal thing in my brain completely takes me over. In seconds, I've pulled off my sweatpants, oblivious to the layers and layers of scars on my thighs. They don't matter. That's in the past, and I honestly could not give less of a fuck about the past right now. All that matters to me is Sunset, who's currently pulling off her own pajama bottoms.
I've seen Sunset naked before—I've seen her naked a lot, actually, given that we're dating and live together—but never before have I been so entranced by her. I'd gawk more, but I don't get a chance as her lips press against mine again. She lays beside me, one arm cradling me and another on my tummy, with her lips grazing against my neck in a way that makes my whole body shiver.
"I love you, Wally," she whispers in my ear. "Do you hear me? I love you."
"Mhmm." All I can manage is a desperate nod. "I love you too—ahh!"
"Good." Sunset's breath is hot on my neck as her fingers make their way between my legs again, ghosting up and down between my folds and oh my gosh that feels so good. Her other hand is kneading my breasts again, almost absentmindedly playing with me as all of Sunset's focus seems directed into the words she breathes into my ear.
"Do you want me inside you, Wally?"
Oh.
"Y-yes," I say, all too aware of how desperate I sound.
"Mmmm… I like that," Sunset purrs, pressing her fingers more firmly against my folds. It's not enough, not nearly enough, but of course she knows that. "Say that for me, would you?"
That's just not fair.
"I…" Sunset. Say it for Sunset. "I-I want you… I want—mmmnnhhh!"
I can't even finish the sentence without crying out, but it's not my fault! Sunset's finger is circling that little bundle of nerves and my whole lower body is lighting up like a Christmas tree. That doesn't stop my face from somehow getting redder when Sunset giggles at the sound I just made.
"Try again, Wally," she says before pecking me on the lips.
"Mmmh, Sunset, c'mon…" God, I know I must sound pathetically desperate, but I can't help it! I think my hips are rocking around on their own too—it's honestly hard to tell with the entirety of my senses laser-focused on Sunset's finger.
My cruel, cruel girlfriend just smiles oh-so-innocently and shakes her head, sending those beautiful red curls of hers tumbling about. "Nope. I wanna hear you say it."
Just as I open my mouth to reply, she wiggles her finger a bit, and again the only sound I can make is something between a moan and a really annoyed sigh.
Whatever it was, Sunset must've found it sexy, because she squeezes me tight in her one-armed embrace. Every sapphic siren in my head is going off at once as she kisses me again. I can feel her chest press against me—so warm, so soft—and all the while her finger keeps circling me down there, sending shivering jolts of pleasure rolling through me, but it's not enough. She knows it's not enough, she has to, but it doesn't matter, she won't give me any more unless I… Unless I—
Suddenly, the clouds of embarrassment in my brain part wide, and my mind is like a sky of nothing but big gay rainbows of clarity as my hands find Sunset's cheeks and I stare into her eyes.
"I want you inside me Sunset, I-I need—"
Then it happens. My girlfriend smiles, her finger slides into me, and just like that, we're closer than we've ever been. In that moment, it's like both our souls glow and connect into something more, something beyond the two of us together—something more immutable and powerful than any fear or misery or trauma could ever hope to destroy.
Love, in its purest form, blossoms between us as Sunset makes love to me.
Warmth and pleasure and bliss ignites within me as the girl I love moves her finger, then fingers, in and out, curling and uncurling, slow and deliberate and gentle as ever. I'm making sounds—sounds I'd usually be embarrassed by, I'm sure of it—but they're lost to my senses. All I hear is her breathing, all I see is her smile, all I feel is her.
Sunset Shimmer is my whole world, and I can tell by the way she's looking at me that I'm her whole world too.
I want to tell her, but I lose the chance to as her eyes become half-lidded and her lips close with mine, and just like that we're kissing. She kisses me again and again, her fingers working me all the while, and it's like every time our lips touch I fall in love with her all over again.
If I could stay in this moment forever, with Sunset Shimmer softly kissing and fingering me with her whole body pressed against mine, I don't think anything could make me happier.
Wonderful feelings flood through my body, sourced from the nexus of heat and pleasure where Sunset's fingers keep pumping in and out. As she finally pulls away from the stream of kisses we shared, her pace quickens and her motions deepen, like a piston driving into me harder and harder until almost everything else fades away. All I can feel is Sunset between my legs, filling me up over and over and over, as her free hand plays with my breast again.
I… I think I feel my hand too, acting apparently on its own, squeezing at my other breast. Both Sunset and I lightly pinch and twist and pull at my nipples, and I swear it's like I'm melting, losing myself in the sea of pleasure enveloping my entire being.
When I feel Sunset suckling at my breast again, something changes.
Within all the warmth spreading through me, a second flame sparks to life, burning so much hotter and brighter than anything before it. It grows and grows, swelling and surging as Sunset's fingers churn between my legs. Soon the intensity burns so brightly that it's like the whole world is drowned out by it. I can't see, I can't move, I can't do anything but whimper and squeak and moan as my girlfriend brings me closer and closer to the edge. Everything is a blur of pleasure and love and bliss—and then Sunset's voice cuts through it all.
"It's okay, Wally," she says, her voice soft as velvet. "I love you so much, baby. I love you and I want you to cum now, okay?"
I can't speak, I can't even think anymore, I—
"Cum for me, Wally," Sunset says again. "Cum for me."
So I cum for her.
Somewhere, in the back of my mind, part of me registers that I cry out Sunset's name over and over again as I climax. Hot, ceaseless pleasure burns through me as I shudder and scream and writhe beneath the feeling. All the while, Sunset keeps driving her fingers in and out of me just as hard, even once the peak of my orgasm passes and my whimpering voice fades.
It passes, slows, and… and then it starts burning again, even hotter, surging past the intensity that I'd thought was the most amazing I could feel. Sunset must be able to tell I'm not done, because before I can start to beg her to keep going, she's already doing it, already—already fucking me even harder than before. Her eyes flick down to my chest, where I can feel my breasts gently bouncing around as my whole body rocks back and forth in time with Sunset's rhythm.
She must really enjoy that view, because as soon as she sees it, her expression transforms from proud satisfaction to a wide-eyed, mystified gaze, like watching me has fundamentally changed something in her.
I cannot even begin to express the joy that comes with knowing my girlfriend thinks I'm that kind of sexy.
Sweat tickles my forehead as I strain to better see the look on my girlfriend's face. Sunset hunches over and puts all her effort into making love to—no, into fucking me as hard as she possibly can. It's like my whole mind and body are wrapped around her fingers, around her, so impossibly in love with her as she looms over me, fills me, dominates me. It's a feeling beyond love, beyond want, something indescribable as my heart and soul pulses in unison with Sunset. Desperate for her, aching for her, so entranced by the miracle that is Sunset Shimmer loving me that I want to wrap myself up in her love and forget anything else could possibly exist. I want her to hold me close, to claim me, to make me feel nothing but safety and pleasure and joy when she takes me, whenever and however she wants.
Love eternal. Uncompromising. No matter what happens, I am hers forever.
When at last I succumb to my second orgasm of the night, the white-hot star of pleasure within me explodes, then keeps exploding. I squeak and cry and wrap my legs around Sunset, the muscles in my thighs tensing up and pulling her in, keeping her inside me where she belongs. All the while I keep shaking, the core of pleasure within me burning brighter than ever. I don't even know how long I'm cumming for—seconds? A full minute, maybe? It's impossible to tell.
By the time the endless torrent of pleasure finally, finally fades away, Sunset collapses atop me, her breaths as labored and heavy as my own. I can still feel her fingers inside me, now as still as the rest of her. I relish in that, and in the warmth of her whole body against mine as her head rests upon my breast.
We stay like that for a while.
Maybe it's a little silly, but I really am glad she likes my boobs so much. I never thought much of them, but maybe I'm due for a bit of self-love right about now.
I've hated my body for so long—I could never look at myself without being reminded of all the misery I suffered through for all the years until I met Sunset. But now, the scars on my arm and thighs in my periphery just fade into the background. My life was terrible for a long time—all those years of abuse and trauma and wanting to die will always be a part of it, but… I don't want to live my whole life trapped by how bad things used to be. I'm not in the back-then—I'm in the right-now, and right now, Sunset and I just shared our first time together, and that's something too special and precious for any bad memories to ever take away from me.
If Sunset loves my body, and loves me, maybe I can try loving me too.
As more and more of my mind settles back into the present, I'm a little surprised at how exhausted I am. A soft giggle escapes me as I realize I probably couldn't even move my legs if I tried.
That's no excuse, though. Tired or no, I want to be sure Sunset gets a turn.
"Sunset?"
All I get in response is a light snore. She shifts a bit, but only to get more comfortable, nuzzling my breast with her cheek and sighing contently.
I don't think I've ever been more in love with her than I am right now.
If she needs to rest for a while, that's okay. She can have her turn when she's ready. Besides, I could use some rest too.
As I lie beneath my dozing girlfriend, taking stock of the past half-hour or so, I'm honestly kind of surprised at how quickly things happened. It wasn't that long ago that I was huddled up beside Sunset on the couch, pouting and hating myself—now I'm naked and sweaty, cuddling with my equally naked and sweaty girlfriend, with her head on my breast and her fingers resting inside me. And the most amazing thing is, all it took to get from one to the other was trusting Sunset to love me as I am.
No matter how scarred I am, how damaged I am, I can still have—I still deserve all the good and wonderful things in the world.
All I have to do is let myself be loved.
Author's Note
This is the most shamelessly indulgent thing I've ever written.
