"Is this seat occupied, miss?"
The smooth masculine voice wasn't the one she'd been expecting, and she looked up from the menu to see who it belonged to. A tall, broad stallion stood over her, his white coat immaculately groomed and his azure mane coiffed into a modest wave. A warm smile met her, his face gentle and expectant, and she hesitated. From his monocle, dinner jacket, and pencil moustache, he didn't look out of place as a member of the minor nobility, though in Canterlot, many ponies fit that description. Looking the part was practically a requirement of living in certain parts of the city.
"I'm waiting for someone," she answered, glancing at the clock on the wall - 07:34pm. More than half an hour had passed since the arranged meeting time, and she'd been sitting here for fifteen minutes before that. Watching as the second hand climbed towards the top, the minute ticking over, she let out a sigh and put down the menu she'd been perusing to pass the time.
"If you don't mind my saying so, you look like you've been waiting for a long time."
"That's all I seem to do these days," she replied. Forcing a half-smile onto her face, she nodded, and the stallion pulled back the chair opposite her with a gentle hum of magic. The gamboge faded from his horn as he pulled himself in to the table.
"I do hope that waiting will be a little less dull with my company," the stallion suggested, his tone filled with a warm humour. "Miss...?"
"Fleur de Luce," the mare answered, guessing his next question as recognition crossed his features. "Yes, I am related to Fleur de Lis. Her twin sister, if that isn't immediately obvious."
"I dare say I did recognise the resemblance," the stallion quipped, eyes passing down her flowing cotton-pink mane.
"As does everypony else," the mare informed him. "You're the first pony to not address me as miss de Lis since I arrived in this city. It didn't help that the table was booked under her name."
"You're here to see your sister?" the stallion deduced, receiving a nod. He pursed his lips slightly. "I travel in the same circles as she, and I have to say, I am disappointed in her lack of diligence. Manners are below no pony, no matter their station."
"I'm sure she's just busy," the mare answered, falling into an instinctive defense, but the stallion shook his head.
"There is no price that absolves one of their duty to be punctual and respectful," he insisted, waving over the waiter, who came swiftly to the table. "If you could, please have this table's bill put on my tab." With a nod, the waiter strode away, and the unicorn stallion turned back to the mare across from him.
"You didn't need to do that."
"No, I didn't," he answered, smiling knowingly. Fleur blushed, her lips turning up into a smile of her own. Taking a moment to compose herself, she tried to relax.
"I don't believe I got your name?"
"I do regret that you're correct," he answered. "Fancy Pants, at your service, miss de Luce." He bowed his head in a short gesture of respect.
"Please, call me Lucy," she insisted. "It's always how we distinguished ourselves as foals, and I never grew comfortable with my full name after Lily became the glamour star she is today."
"Lily?" Fancy repeated, testing the unfamiliar word. "She has never disclosed that name to me."
"She prefers the prestige that comes with her formal name. Fleur de Lis sounds so much better rolling off the tongues of the rich and famous, and printed large on the cover of magazines. Lily doesn't have the same ring to it."
"Does the similarity cause confusion for you?"
"More than I would like. I've had ponies correct my name for me during bookings. My train ticket here, for instance, was reserved under Fleur de Luce, but the clerk obviously thought that there was no way that a mare who sounded and looked like the famous Fleur de Lis could be anypony but, and so that's what was printed. If I didn't look and sound exactly like her, I doubt I could've gotten away with using them at all."
"It's rather poor form to assume to know what a mare intended," Fancy noted.
"It's normal," Lucy explained to him. "They have to do their job, and it isn't hard to imagine why they think that my name is a misspelling of somepony they know exists. I just wish I didn't have to justify my existence all the time. Nopony believes I am who I say I am; all they ever see is my sister, and all her accomplishments. I'm never congratulated or looked upon approvingly for the things I've done, the things I've achieved." She chuckled lightly and shyly. "Not that I'd want congratulations, mind you; I hate the spotlight. I couldn't stand living the life Lily leads."
"Quite misfortunate for you, I imagine," Fancy observed. "Being identical to one of Canterlot's most recognisable models yet hating the attention that goes along with it."
"If I didn't know better, I'd say I was cursed," she replied. "I'm much happier just spending time with my plants. They aren't so nosy as ponies."
"A hobby, or a career?" Fancy asked.
"Career," Lucy informed him. "Though I like keeping my work close to me as often as I can. Lily was the outgoing socialite even as a foal, whereas I prefered my books and my flowers. I majored in botany and horticulture at the University of Manehatten and now I lead the research on medicinal properties of plants at the Filydelphia Institute of Medicine."
"Quite an accomplishment," Fancy commented, nodding approvingly. "It sounds like theres a lot of merit to you that ponies ought to appreciate."
"Thanks," Lucy responded, smiling at the sincerity. "But it isn't an accomplishment that gets noticed particularly. Ponies like the flashy and the grandiose, like Princess Twilight and her friends, or Sapphire Shores, or Songbird Serenade. Studying and cultivating flora doesn't get you on the front of magazines - beauty does."
"Of which you have no shortage," Fancy assured her. "There is nothing that Lily has that you lack. There is nothing wrong with simply not wishing to pursue a path in life."
"As flattering as your words are, I don't have the confidence to do what she does."
"With respect, that simply isn't true," Fancy rebutted her. "There was a young model who had a very short career, but made waves while she was active. Her face was on everything from posters and billboards to magazine covers and flyers, all across Equestria. She was more timid than a mouse, yet with the right motivation, she became a sensation. You could easily match your sister in her fame if you so wished. Your wish to not do so is entirely understandable. Not everypony wants the same career or lifestyle, and it's hardly as though you're lacking any skill or talent as it is."
The mare let a few seconds pass in silence, pondering his words. "Why did you come over to me?" she asked. The stallion smiled, as though knowing he'd be asked this sooner or later.
"Like many others have today, I'm sure, I recognised you," he told her. "At least, I thought I did. I wondered why miss Fleur de Lis was sitting alone in a restaurant in Canterlot, and why she was intently reading through the menu rather than drinking in the room around her. It's so very unlike her, you see. I decided to investigate."
"You only wanted to speak to me because you thought I was Lily," the mare realised, mentally slumping.
"Not at all," Fancy assured her. "If you'd acted as she did, I would've assumed you to be her, offered a few friendly words, and went on with my evening. Instead, I found a fascinating conversationalist. This has honestly been perhaps the most interesting dinner I've had in months. And speaking of dinner..." Glancing around, he waved over the waiter again. "I believe we ought to eat."
"I'm not sure I'm ready to order," Lucy informed him.
"Order everything that catches your fancy," he told her. "It's a free meal for you, and I insist on making it as fulfilling as I possibly can. Consider it compensation on behalf of your sister's shortcoming."
Lucy's lips curled into an involuntary smile, one that she couldn't wipe from her muzzle throughout dinner. Fancy was courteous, charming, and unfathomably generous. Out of everypony who'd ever given her the time of day in her adulthood, he was the only one who hadn't turned away after realising she wasn't her sister, or who didn't want to try and drunkenly seduce her into a bed for a disappointing few minutes of apathetic activity. He listened to her, took interest, and answered any questions she had about him without sounding arrogant or boastful. He was the perfect conversationalist, and before she'd even finished eating, she'd forgotten she was supposed to have been meeting her sister at all.
It was only natural she accept his invitation to come home with him.
The stallion's house was large and ornate, as she expected, but she didn't see much of it, and acknowledged far less. She was far too consumed with Fancy's confident gait and endless reservoir of personality, pulling her along with the promise of more, yet never stepping outside the demeanour of a suave and polite gentlecolt. Only when they'd entered his bedroom did he approach her and raise a hoof to hold her chin, cradling her gently and giving her a few seconds to urge him on with her pleading gaze before he closed in and pressed his lips to hers.
It was chaste, at first, soft and quick, a delicate peck between them, but it quickly grew to a far more deep and sensuous play. He led the dance, keeping their movements measured and in snyc, and managed to ensconce her in a warm blanket of comfort and control, without laying a forehoof on her or making her feel small or vulnerable. It shouldn't have been possible, causing her such feelings with so little to show for it, but she fell into the experience welcomingly, casting her rational mind aside for the night. It'd be there in the morning, when she'd need it, but Fancy she only had for the night.
She melted as the stallion's tongue nudged hers, letting out a whimper into their ever-deepening embrace. His movements were inexorable, but gentle, languidly travelling over and around to taste and feel her, rolling tender loops around her comparatively sluggish tongue. Even at his relaxed pace, he was agile, touching at the roof of her mouth teasingly before folding back down and meeting her slow reaction, always one step ahead of her. She'd never known a stallion to be so soft and yet so in control, leading every movement and motion with nothing but suggestion. Was she under a spell? She neither knew nor cared, not when the result was this weightless bliss.
The effect of the kiss lingered for several seconds after he pulled back, the warmth of contact dissipating gradually until she couldn't ignore his absence any longer. When her eyes fluttered open, Fancy was already half undressed, his jacket, bowtie, and waistcoat already discarded, and his shirt unbuttoned at his chest. Emerging from his clothes, he somehow looked more rugged and fierce, as if his raw, unwashed nature was being released from its civil confines. His expression remained cool by comparison, assuring her that he wasn't going to simply turn into a beast and ravage her. She wouldn't have complained if he had, but his willing, easy restraint spoke of a strength in him, and she found that just as spine-tinglingly enticing.
His hooves didn't carry much weight behind them, simply showing her where he wanted her to go, knowing she'd obey without question. With very little guidance, Lucy lay her front half on the bed, relaxing her forelimbs and raising her rump for his easy access. It was so simple, presenting herself for a stallion's pleasure, a thought that she normally would've shrugged off with apathetic disinterest, but with the stallion in question, it became something more. Now, lifting her tail and signalling to him that she was ready for anything he wanted to do to her was a must.
The wait was agonising. Why was he taking so long? The seconds ticked by, each one dragging labouriously until she was ten minutes into a ten second wait. He was shuffling behind her, the crumple of cloth telling her he'd discarded his stylish and cumbersome clothes. Now he was bare behind her, unwrapped and ready to claim her, to do what a stallion was supposed to do to a willing mare, and a thrill ran up her. It had to have been twenty minutes since she'd been guided to the bed, so why was she still waiting? Within a few more seconds, that wait had progressed to half an hour. Why? She'd done everything she needed to do, and he had to have her now. How couldn't he? He must've been as hard as diamond behind her, a muscular body rippling with every minor movement, his pride swinging like a battering ram underneath him, eyeing her up like a piece of meat. She shivered as a lustful chill ran up her spine, her marehood winking involuntarily.
That did it. Lucy gasped at the contact, shocked at what she felt. It wasn't his weight settling atop her, or the wide, flat surface of a male's crown meeting her entrance - heat rolled over her sodden crotch and a dexterous appendage dragged itself up her thigh, missing her lathered lips by what felt like milimetres. She flushed as the realisation set in, arousal and timidity clashing at the prospect of such a proper stallion treating her in such a way. He wasn't even touching her, not really, and already she felt the reservoir of her excitement filling, her skin tingling along the path he took. His technique hadn't changed from when he was kissing her, slowly and surely exploring her at his own pace, making sure he was thorough as he ascended to her derriere.
Her tail batted his head involuntarily, flicking harmlessly against him as he marched his lips across her cushiony behind, each gentle press sinking an inch before he moved on. With a tender insistence, his magic gripped her tail, hoisting it up and pinning it to her back so he could continue uninterrupted, pulling back and placing his hooves against her butt, groping the pillowy flesh as though savouring the way it surrendered to his presence. Lucy couldn't suppress the whimper that crawled from her as he spread her, exposing her to the air and to his gaze, the fact that he'd already seen all of her doing nothing to dampen the nervous excitement at being ogled just that little bit more.
The first brush of his tongue was electric, forcing a gasp from her that reemerged as a groan, feeling the rub of every individual tastebud as they passed her gate, the slow, long drag building a powerful charge deep in her core. His second pass was quicker, but still took the time to properly cover her dilated cove, ensuring that not a single drop of her pleasure escaped his path. He didn't push into her, not yet, his muscle curling around to match the shape of her teardrop, leaving not even a milimeter of her unvisited. She shivered, unable to do more than attempt to stay still while he combed his way around her, circling one way and then the other.
Without warning, he pressed his muzzle flush against her nethers and thrust his tongue into her, reaching into her welcoming cove. She let out a whine at the insertion, his dexterous muscle probing at her sensitive walls with a practiced precision that he shouldn't have had. She didn't know her own body with the level of knowledge he seemed to possess, and every movement he made seemed designed specifically to evoke the biggest reaction from her that he could manage. He lapped and licked, gliding from point to point, spot to spot, each contact in sequence feeding the fire that was growing inside her.
His lower lip brushed down, flicking against her winking bud and ensnaring it between his tongue, which he hadn't withdrawn from her. She felt the drag of the underside of his tongue against her pip, legs tensing as the delightful, unrelenting torment assailed her senses, the white-hot sensation coaxing more fluid from her depths. His tongue was put to better use, flicking against the bundle of nerves as his lips sealed fully around it, suckling gently as he eased her towards the inexorable end to which he'd been working. Half of her tried to stay quiet, to not shout out her obvious pleasure and roll her hips against him, but it was a losing battle, and her stifled pants soon devolved into full-fledged moans as the pressure inside her became too much to hush.
He didn't speed up, or press any harder - he didn't need to. His work was just too good to resist, and the gradual tightening in her limbs and core reached its boiling point, the dam breaking with a resounding crash. She wailed, putting sound to the sensations coursing through her, body running on automatic as she tried to contend with the momentous surge slamming against her mind. She could feel him still working her clenching quim even as she rolled and shook, but her attention was anywhere but on him right now. Her muzzle pressed into the bedsheets, she screamed, lightheaded and overwhelmed with the coursing torrent, until the world stopped spinning and her body was convulsing lightly enough that she could say she had some level of control over it.
He must've been waiting for her to regain her composure before he mounted her, she realised, as the weight of the stallion settled on her back, leaning against her with enough restraint to make her feel safe and comfortable. What a gentlecolt! Even given the lewdness of their situation, she couldn't help but feel a swell of appreciation and affection at his manners. She murmured happily, her heart thumping as his blunt crown grazed the space his muzzle had been less than a minute earlier, and the mare's anticipation built into an internal baying, cheering and hollering for his grand entrance. If his oral expertise had been so astounding, how good could he make her feel with the part of him that was supposed to service her?
She didn't have to wait for long, as with a slow, confident thrust, the tip of his shaft parted her lips and slid into her yearning valley, followed by a few more inches. She was so wet that it was a surprise to her that he didn't just claim her all at once, accidentally or otherwise, but instead eased back a couple of inches to thrust again, each one a gentle push to introduce more of his tumescence to her confines. She squeezed down against the intruding member as it passed deeper into her, the girth stretching her inexperienced tunnel and yielding little to her body's efforts. His medial ring felt like it should've come sooner, entering into her after what felt like a stallion's full length had already glided past her gate, and still he pushed on, feeding her inches at a time in slow, lengthening thrusts. It was only when his groin came to rest against her rear that she realised she'd been holding a breath, and let it out in a rush.
Soft smooches danced delicately across her neck, affording her something light and fleeting to contrast the ever-present fullness within her. Her eyes closed, allowing the pleasantness to ebb and flow, lapping at her awareness like a placid tide lapping at rocks on the shoreline. In spite of how warm, comfortable, and nice it felt, everything felt sharp, defined, and vivid, as though her senses were turned up to a new level she didn't know she had. His heartbeat pumped against her back, his stallionhood pulsing inside her in a delayed echo. She could smell his cologne, the sweet spice tickling her nose teasingly, just enough to keep her hooked and wanting. Had he moved yet? Had she moved? She felt like she was moving, a thousand tiny, static prickles tapping at her nerves, anticipation and need coalescing into an impatient but submissive desire.
At first, she thought she'd imagined it, a trick of the mind brought about by her lust, but it persisted, and she realised he was moving. She clenched down, her already tingling walls buzzing as they pressed against his cockflesh, squeezing his retreating rod ineffectually as it was dragged from her depths, searing her insides in an unfathomably beautiful burn as it passed. She whimpered at the intensity, receiving nuzzles and pecks of affection in response, which only made her muscles squeeze down harder. His medial ring emerged from her tunnel, a ripple flowing through her at the subtle change, and she shivered, fighting to keep her hips still. He'd only pulled out once, and she was already panting and silently pleading for more like a whore in heat.
His return was just as slow and gentle, his pace rightfully decided by him, and every inch was torturously divine. She did reasonably well, able to keep her noises to a minimum until his medial ring pressed past her entrance again, at which point she groaned, low and unladylike, unable to even retroactively care. From there, her voice was a near-constant purr, tracking his progress into her depths by the rigid circle's presence against her chamber, grazing her flesh with just the right amount of pressure. He didn't speed up; he didn't need to. He knew it, too, receiving her signals as clear as if she'd spoken them out loud to him in plain ponish, and so he continued as he was, probing her gently and lovingly.
She made it to his fifth or sixth stroke before her impulses got the better of her and she thrust back, demanding he do more to satisfy her. He chuckled, an amused rumble vibrating his chest against her back, and his lips met her flicking ear, kissing it and whispering an affirmative understanding. Smoothly, he sped up, putting a little bit more effort into the back-and-forth of his hips, keeping her just on the boundary of satisfied, seeming to know exactly how far he could push her patience before she demanded more. Each time she felt like she was approaching that point, he'd kiss or lick or nip or thrust, and her head slumped loosely back onto the bedsheets.
The pressure in her continued to build, rising like a roiling floodwater until she felt saturated with pleasure. Still it rose, her core tightening as the bubbling inside her grew ever outward, pushing at her limits until she was bursting at the seams. His pace remained measured throughout, calmly kissing her while she squealed and huffed into the duvet, her marehood gripping him tight as he worked her. She sailed over her precipice, the stallion atop her paying her cry no heed as he continued to roll his hips against her rear, ignoring her vice-tight contractions. She muffled her scream as best as she could, enduring her protracted climax without any sort of grace or restraint. Her mind swam in endorphins, her senses fuzzy, and she couldn't tell when the orgasm began or ended. Maybe she had one, or maybe several. She didn't know, and she didn't care. She was lost in a tempest of carnal delight, and she welcomed the vigour of it.
He continued for a while - at least, she assumed she did, as much as she was able to in her marooned state - before he hilted and let out a groan into her ear, a hot wetness filling her. The sound, the feeling, the knowledge that he'd just finished inside her without asking - it made her shiver, another flare of lust pushing her over the edge one last time. She met his throaty vocalisation with one of her own, not bothering to stifle this one. She let him hear it, going with what felt right. Him claiming her as his, taking her without words, that was right. Her showing him how much she loved what he was doing to her, that was right too.
She yawned, unable to hold back the fatigue now that their boisterous activity had concluded, and let her heavy eyes droop. A lazy smile lifted at her muzzle as she sank into the tender embrace of sleep, latently feeling her partner ease her up onto the bed. How considerate of him. What a gentlecolt.
Lucy's schedule was rote. She woke up at the same time in the same place, ate the same rotation of breakfasts throughout a week, showered in the exact same way, and took the same route to work. Her hobbies were mostly solitary, and so she did them a particular way, listening to her favourite music. Her life was mundane, but she didn't mind it. There was comfort and unsung value in the mundane. Nevertheless, she knew exactly how her life worked.
When she woke up in an unfamiliar bed not to the familiar chime of her alarm clock, but to the tap of heavy curtains blowing in a breeze, she froze for several long seconds in shock, her eyes rocketing open. This wasn't her bed. This wasn't her room, going by the ornate design of it. That meant that this wasn't her house, and that the other pony in the bed wasn't-
Turning her head as quickly as she dared, she ogled the stallion. Unicorn, looked prim and posh, pencil moustache. Fancy Pants, wasn't it? Her face burned as the memories of last night came back to her, the things they'd done together etched onto her brain. How did it come to that? She was never normally so reckless as to go home with a stranger! She felt another surge of heat to her face as she reminded herself that, actually, her recklessness couldn't have been bad if it had ended so well.
While she was debating herself, the stallion in question stirred, murmuring happily and opening his eyes a crack. She froze again, caught like a deer in headlights as he smiled.
"Good morning to you too," he murmured, a half-smirk tugging the corner of his mouth upwards. "I'd ask if you slept well, but since it's rude to talk with your mouth full..." He let the sentence hang, chuckling to himself at a joke only he seemed to understand.
"Mouth full?" Lucy repeated, awkwardly. It had been far easier to talk to him when he was clearly out of her social league, or even when they'd been doing the unspeakable together.
"Yes, your..." He paused, as if something was slowly registering to him. Blinking and wiping his face with a forelimb, he glanced over at her again, eyeing her up and down. "...mouth...but...if you're there, then who...?" He glanced downward, and for the first time, Lucy noticed that the duvet was moving slightly, minutely enough that she hadn't immediately picked up on it. Curiosity and confusion crossed his visage, and with a deft yank, he pulled back the covers.
The shocked silence couldn't have lasted for more than a few seconds, but it felt like it stretched on for hours. There, brazenly laying between the white stallion's hindlegs, was a mare, slowly bobbing her maw up and down on his morning erection. Already, the proud pole was glistening with saliva, indicating how much had already been taken into the female's mouth. Without pausing her ministrations, the mare looked up at her new viewers and winked to each of them in turn before returning to her task.
Their combined shout pulled her back from her oral service to regard them, planting a final kiss on the stallion's crown just before she spoke.
"Good morning," the oral servant answered, smiling sanguinely at them, a facetious grin sitting just below the surface. "You taste as delicious as ever, Fancy. And very good to see you, Lucy."
"Wh- Why- What are you doing here?" Lucy sputtered. "What are you doing?!"
"I'm performing an act known as fellatio on a dear friend and long-term paramour," came the casual, flippant reply. "This is Fancy Pants, socialite and one of the most trusted of Princess Celestia's aristocrats. We met at the Grand Galloping Gala one fateful year, and he has been such a generous stallion in helping my work blosom across Equestria."
"Where were you last night?" Lucy asked, frowning at her sister. "You were supposed to meet me for dinner! We were supposed to be catching up!"
"Oh, my, was that last night?" Lily questioned, gasping and holding a hoof to her mouth in mock surprise. "Oh, dear, how forgetful of me. You see, last night, I arranged for a date with Fancy here, and, well, being such a forgetful mare as I am, I must've arranged to meet him at the wrong address. How embarrassing!"
Lucy turned to the stallion in question, glaring at him. "Did you know about this?" she asked, biting back the accusatory snarl that was threatening to slither into her tone. "Did you pretend to take an interest in me, pretend you could see me past her, just to belittle me?"
"What?" the stallion asked, sitting up. "No, not at all! I would never do something so despicable!"
"What's my name?"
"Your name?"
"Yes, my name. What is it?"
"Lucy."
"My real name."
He hesitated, clearly rummaging through his memory. "Fleur...fleur de...Luce. Your name is Fleur de Luce."
Lucy harrumphed. "All this time, you thought I was her. When you showed interest in me, in my hobbies, my career, my personality, you were just pretending. You feigned interest in me just to rub it in my face that you can have any pretty mare you want so long as you say the right things and flash your money and charm. Well, it worked."
"No, miss de Luce, please-"
"IF I MAY," Lily interrupted, speaking up to cut off both parties. "I can explain away any awkwardness. Fancy here is far too much of a gentlecolt to stand you up like that, and certainly isn't a rapscallion who'd simply court you to shatter your heart. Nor am I some ungrateful mare who'd abandon her twin sister on a pre-arranged evening. Fancy here came home to see an informative little note on his pillow. What did it say, Fancy?"
"That you wanted to partake in some role play," the stallion revealed, seeming resigned to answering honestly. "You explained that you had booked a table at The Blosoming Petals for quarter past seven in the evening, but wished for me to arrive at seven thirty. I was to act as though I'd never met you, and you were going to pretend to be someone else. You wanted me to seduce you as though this were the first evening we had ever laid eyes upon each other."
"That was what I had written," Lily confirmed. "And I believe he performed admirably. It was a shame I couldn't be there to witness it for myself, but it would be foolish to risk ruining a plan that had taken so long to put into fruition by turning up at the very spot from which I needed to be absent."
"But why?" Lucy asked.
"Yes, I'd quite like to know too," the stallion added. Lucy glanced at him, casting her eyes back to her sister.
"For your benefit, of course."
"Whose?" Lucy asked. "Mine? My benefit? You arranged for a stallion with whom you are in some...relationship...to seduce me on the pretense that it was you, and you had me agree to this seduction on the pretense that I was seeing you. You betrayed me."
"Of course I didn't betray you," Lily rebutted, rolling her eyes as though her sister had just made an incredibly boorish and childish remark. "I'm here today because I knew I'd have to let the both of you know at some point what I'd arranged. If I'd been cruel for cruelty's sake, I'd never have turned up at all."
"That doesn't change that everything we shared was fake," Lily explained, exasperated. "I told him things I've never told anypony else, and he made me feel as though I wasn't a nobody. I felt free, and you took that all away from me. Nopony has ever made me feel like that, and now I learn that the one pony who has, lied. Even if he didn't mean to, he lied, because you tricked him into it. That's your fault!"
"Me."
"I'm sorry?"
Lily breathed in, and back out, smiling an amused smile. "You've never told anypony certain things about yourself, except, you have. You've told me. Not directly, no," she continued, seeing that Lucy was about to interrupt. "But you don't think that I never picked up on your doubts and fears, do you? Little clues you left in letters you sent me, the way you seemed to shrink back from me when I became a star? I know how my success makes you feel, and how difficult it must be to be mistaken for me every day. If I made you feel that way, it seems only right that I try to help you, no?"
"I don't think this was the way to go about it," Lucy argued, a twinge of irritation lingering, not yet washed away by the explanation she'd received.
"Let me guess; you live alone, you spend your evenings watering your plants, your favourite is a venus fly trap named Cleosnaptra, and you haven't been on a date since you graduated college?" The embarassed silence gave the answer she needed. "This was the only way to go about it. You're hopeless with stallions, and even more hopeless with attractive, rich, generous, charming, endowed-"
"O-okay, okay," Lucy interrupted, blushing hard. "You've made your point. You had good intentions. But what was this all about? What was the purpose?" Her confusion mounted as the model's smile broadened into a beam, and she looked at the stallion.
"Would you like to tell her?"
"Tell me...what?"
"I believe that miss de Lis here is attempting to convince you to join our relationship."
"What?"
"He said I-"
"No, no, I heard what he said. But...why..." Lucy swallowed and leaned back against the pillow. "Join? How? You're...are you dating? Why don't I know? How can this work? We don't even have...you don't feel...I don't know if I feel-"
"Lucy," he cut in, calming her enough to get his words in. "May I still call you Lucy?" At her nod, he continued. "No pony knows how they feel about another pony before they attempt a relationship. A relationship is firstly about discovering more about one another, seeing how compatible you are. I chance to say that last night's escapade at the restaurant was not truly a first date, due to the miscommunication and mistaken intentions, but I feel as though it would be a perfect springboard from which to launch something far more genuine. I admit I thought that your identity was something conjured up by Lily here, including your talents and achievements, and was impressed by her creativity, but now I see it is you with whom I should be impressed." His hoof turned her face back towards him gently when she tried to avert her gaze. "I may have been mistaken as to the veracity of who you are - for which I truly, deeply apologise - but I am no less sincere in how intrigued I am by it."
"And Lily?"
"Lily is a dear friend and, behind closed doors, an exclusive lover," Fancy answered, smiling in a way that suggested to her that he knew she'd ask it. "Given that this entire ordeal was her making, I'd wager that she would be inclined to broaden our relationship into something more...inclusive."
"Who better?" Lily asked, shuffling closer. "You're already mistaken for me, so there wouldn't be a need to hide our comings and goings. If you were anypony else, the amount of time you spent around him would raise questions, risk a scandal. But if Fleur de Lis were to double the time she spent with such a prodigious sponsor and friend...well, that's just the inner machinations of the aristocrats of Canterlot, is it not?" While Fancy nodded, she leaned in, close enough that the whisper wouldn't reach the stallion, and added, "Besides, he truly can be a two-mare job sometimes. I would like a rest on weekends."
The twins giggled, and the stallion shook his head at their behaviour. The chittering died down, and a comfortable silence replaced it, warm and cozy like a blanket. Lucy looked up at the charming unicorn and smiled, nuzzling his chest.
"Okay," she agreed. "I'll give it a go."
"That's perfectly sufficient," he replied, stroking her back in response. "Perhaps we can begin with a meal? My skills aren't quite up to a restaurant's standard, but I believe I may be able to make do." He shimmied out of bed, stretching as he touched the floor. "But that would require a companion to aid me in picking out the ingredients, and I have two equally delightful candidates from which to pick." He smiled to no one in particular. "Before that, we are all in need of a good shower. Which of you two gorgeous mares would have me wash your manes first?"
He should've known it was coming, Lucy thought to herself. For all he knew about Lily, Lucy seemed to know her more. With a swift glance and a mischievous grin, they turned back to him.
"Yes," they answered, stepping off the bed themselves and sauntering toward the bathroom. Lucy kept pace, trusting Lily to guide her. In a moment of daring, she lifted her tail, walking several paces before she glanced back to see his reaction, only to find Lily doing the same, her own tail raised. With another giggle, they entered the bathroom, hearing the heavier stomps of their third following close behind.
Today was a welcome change to her routine, Lucy decided.
Author's Note
This was written as a secret santa style trade as part of the Summer Sin Celebration. I received only another author's name and their barebones request for a story, and had to turn it into something they would like within a hard limit of 8k words. I'm glad for the hard limit too, because even aiming to keep it down, I missed the suggested limit. Me and my writing hand, eh? I hope I succeeded in making it enjoyable not only for him, but for everyone else too. Merry Summer, and Cloppy New Readings.
