((Explicit)) Chapter 18 - Easy Lover (Phil Collins and Phillip Bailey)

Anyone who knew Ditzy Doo well could tell you that the woman was used to being lost in the woods. This week for Ditzy was more like getting lost at the DMV without an appointment. She had no idea what to do with herself. She'd had to explain thrice to Dinky why Buck was crying next door.

The first time he was chopping onions, second time he was reading a sad story, third time was no it doesn't matter what that Pound Cake kid says, boys are allowed to cry! Dinky was worried that Adagio had put a hex on Buck, which Ditzy supposed was sorta true, but Ditzy said that really, Buck was just going through something strange and sad. Ditzy just wished she knew what it was.

At first, she was busted up because she thought that Buck and Adagio were an actual couple, but then she got to work and things got way more confusing. Scootaloo told her that Buck and Adagio had a fight; the worst one yet and now Buck was heartbroken. She wouldn't say anything else, which probably meant she wanted to say a whole bunch more, but Ditzy could guess. Adagio had said something really cruel to Buck, or she got tired of pretending to be nice, or she had pushed him and he stood up to her and that was that.

But she had seen them on TV. Buck looked happy, at least for the bit that she saw. Beat up, sure, but weirdly happy, next to Adagio. How could he be happy, when he'd gone through so much magic nonsense in such a short time? Why was he suddenly so sad? What could have happened?

Before, Buck's tears were a whispered sob. Now they were like the wailing that Dinky did that time she got lost in Barnyard Bargains. Being at home this Sunday was like living in a haunted house.

Buck sounded wounded. Ditzy understood him well enough by now to know that he'd need time to gather himself back up again before he wanted to talk. Talk. Boy did they need to talk, and boy was Ditzy scared to talk.

But if Buck had just broken up with Adagio, he might think Ditzy was trying to catch him on the rebound, and she knew that just wouldn't be right. She also knew that he needed her now more than ever. What could she do?

Well, Ditzy knew there was one sure way to put Buck in a comfy space, and Ditzy was gonna do it.

It took Buck's rumbling stomach to get him out of his bedroom. By then his eyes were sore and his cheeks were salty and red. The only other breakup that hurt this bad was when he'd left Her. At least then he didn't have a busted arm.

His usual cures for depression weren't working. A hot bubble bath was off the table because he couldn't let his arm hang, and he couldn't write either. All he could do was awkwardly jerk off or watch TV or read, but none of them helped. He couldn't escape the pile of anxieties on his shoulders, even into a pleasant fantasy.

Instead, Buck sat at his desk and stared out his window, just like he did just before meeting Adagio. Amazing how little things changed. The bill for his rent sat next to the one for utilities; the duo glaring up at Buck with quiet condemnation.

As he heard the pot on his stove boiling, Buck dragged himself to his feet and told himself to just get through this. Buck's mind quietly asked which 'this' did he mean.

Was it the unwanted press attention he was sure to get soon, or the hope that the local news would not become national news because he didn't want to talk to Mom about it, the fact that he hadn't talked to Ditzy about that kiss, the bit about how he was apparently magic and had been the whole time, or the fact that if he didn't get some kinda money sometime soon, he'd be boiling this same top ramen over a campfire in a fucking alleyway once the month rolled over.

And then, of course, there was the bit where his heart was broken. Everything hurt from the fight on the Boardwalk but nothing hurt so god damn much as Buck's heart.

The fact of the matter was that Adagio had used him. Had been using him the whole time. He was her meal ticket, and he never knew that he was a feast for her. As he dropped the noodles briefly onto the floor and then into the pot, Buck tripped into his classic tradition of overthinking. A corner of his head swore that if he ruined another bowl of ramen like this then there would be a rebellion.

Adagio had wanted him for his magic the whole time, which made sense since Buck didn't think he was either much to look at or all that charming. Adagio must've sniffed him out at speed dating and then targeted him. He was easy, so all she had to do was snuggle up and Buck had gone along, despite the red flags. That made sense; Buck had something Adagio wanted, so she led him along until...until what? What the hell was she going to do with him? What the fuck did it mean to be a magic generator in a world without magic? Did this have to do with hanging out with the Rainbooms or was Buck always magic and nobody ever bothered to mention? And if he was super magical, glitter just shooting out his ass when he wasn't looking, what the fuck did that mean going forward? If kissing on Adagio meant rifts to Equestria opening up, what would that mean if he and Ditzy got together? Buck was affectionate; if he felt too strongly about someone he'd be putting them in danger, so what the fuck was he supposed to do?

"Be alone forever I guess." Buck mumbled. "You're bad at emotions in the first place, how're you supposed to feel anything when you might end up puttin' people in danger? This must be how Mark Ruffalo feels. Like I'm the least hot person in Thor Ragnarok and also kind of the Hulk." His feet had wandered away from the stove, and now they were pacing him around the living room.

There were so many damned questions that he'd need answering. How much did Sunburst and Starlight know that they weren't letting on? How long had his best friend been dating a monster hunter? How the fuck could he control this?

And then there was the obvious bit. What about Adagio? What would she do now that she'd been found out? Would she retaliate against Starlight, or maybe come after Sunburst or Ditzy or Scoots and hold them ransom? Would she just try to catch Buck alone and drink him down? Or would she try to play him again? Buck wanted to think that she wasn't like that, but he knew after Saturday that Adagio Dazzle would do whatever it took to get what she wanted.

What was he going to do for money? What would he say to Ditzy? Questions swarmed like mosquitos biting into his grey matter. It was too much; everything about Saturday was too much and so was making lunch, apparently.

The noodles had been reduced to a sizzling, smoking mess fusing to the pot, and as Buck kicked himself for getting distracted, he tried to figure out how all of this was his fault.

A knock at the door snapped Buck out of his typical self-loathing. The package was a simple white delivery box, and on top, it said 'To Buck, from Adagio'. It was a new phone. Well, it was exactly the same model as his old phone, with the same case, like a meticulous reproduction.

When he booted it, it had the numbers of Adagio, Scootaloo, and Sunburst. It was terribly considerate, especially for her, Buck thought, and then his vision blurred with tears again. He wondered how long it would be before he could look at the phone without hurting.

Today his arm was especially sore, but it was sore early for a break, which Buck assumed meant that Starlight's healing spell was working. He could still work, even if it was just hitting buttons.

Buck set the pot on the growing pile sink dishes, setting it to soak with as much care as he could muster. He tried to use the task as an anchor because drifting on his own shitty feelings was only making things worse.

Maybe he could distract himself by dusting and vacuuming. As long as he kept moving, he wouldn't have to sit and stew.

"Well, if I'm very lucky--which I'm not--or very clever--which I'm not--maybe I can navigate all of this before the cops catch me standing around talking to myself."

Buck dipped into his emergency burrito stock, which he kept for the semi-frequent occasions in which he managed to cock up at cooking, and after washing the tear streaks from his face, he thought he might be able to limp his way through the workweek. It wasn't until Thursday that he managed to stop wallowing in self-pity and head out to work.

Buck heaved a sigh of relief as he entered Sugar Cube Corner. Thursdays were usually decent for deliveries, which meant he didn't see Ditzy as he walked in. That meant he wouldn't have to try and stumble through a cogent conversation with her yet. He was so scared of opening up on her about this, he didn't seem to notice Scoots waving at him as he crossed the floor and put his things away in his little locker.

On top of that distraction, his guts were all twisted up because Adagio cornered him on the trolley. He was still shaking a bit after that, and he'd...man, why'd he have to pick that damn song? He'd been drowning out his shitty mood in old crooner songs from the '50s, then Adagio came looking helpless and...well, what the fuck was he supposed to do?

"A man is kind." He muttered.

"Buck! Hey, uh, are you okay to work?" Said a sheepish Scoots. She still had bandages on her arms, but she looked no worse for wear, and that made Buck feel a little more steady.

"Not even okayish, Scoots, but I'm doin' my best."

"I'm not...good at this kinda thing, but do you uh...wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Oh thank goodness." Scoots exhaled. The clock ticked. It was quiet.

"Did I miss the rubber neckers?" Buck said casually, after what felt like a thousand years.

"Oh yeah, you should've seen it! A buncha people came barging in here on Monday, asking how I knew Adagio and why I know you! It was crazy! Most of them didn't even tip!" Scoots said.

"Sounds about right. Scoots...how's Ditzy?"

"You don't know?"

"Haven't seen her just lately. I think she's givin' me space."

"Oh...well...uh, you didn't hear it from me, but she was really down when she came in on Monday. I told her about what happened, and then she was just sorta confused. More than usual. At least I think, I don't super know her that well."

"Well, she doesn't really do confrontation, and she's probably worried that I'll snap at her if she talks to me. She's been on my mind."

"Yeah?"

"Everything's been on my mind." Buck said. "It feels like there's a million things on my shoulders just waitin' to topple over if I step wrong."

"That sounds pretty scary, Buck."

"I don't know what to do, Scoots."

"'bout what?"

"Everything. Everything's all fucked up." Buck had found his way to one of the tables. His eyes hurt almost as much as his arm.

*DING DONG*

Buck was halfway scrambled back to his workstation when he realized who it was.

"...hi Buck." Ditzy Doo came in, returning a dolly cart that had probably been stacked with boxes a little earlier.

"Hey, Ditzy. Done with your deliveries?" Buck tried to cut through the murky awkwardness with a smile, but it came out pained and uncomfortable.

"Yeah...I mean, no, there's probably gonna be more, uh...how's the arm?" Ditzy Doo said. Her hand flew up to adjust her hair but got a little scared and so decided to hide at the back of her neck instead.

"It hurts, but it's coming together real fast." The statement drifted off lazily between the ticks of the clock. Ditzy smiled that awkward smile that usually reassured Buck, and with it as motivation, he managed to find just a tiny speck of bravery. "Ditzy, can we talk, please? It's raw, I know, but there's somethin' I gotta--"

The delivery chime rang on the little tablet at the front desk, and on Ditzy's phone.

"Oops, sorry, gotta get going!" Ditzy tried to beat a hasty retreat but mostly managed to smack her elbow in the kitchen threshold before awkwardly shuffling out with another box of treats. "We'll talk later Buck, bye!"

And then she was off again. Buck's fist came down on the counter and then immediately regretted doing so.

"Shit!"

"...are you mad at Ditzy?"

"No, Scoots."

"Are you mad at Adagio?"

"...No. I'm mad at myself for lettin' her play me."

Buck swallowed the dryness in his throat. It was sore and only served to make the quiet moment more uncomfortable.

"Buck...do you like Ditzy? 'cause if you do, you should tell her, and also Adagio." Scoots said. It came out like a shy lunchroom query.

"Why would I...it doesn't matter, really." Buck said.

"Why not?"

"Because I need to tell Ditzy that I'm magic. When I do that, she won't want anything to do with me."

"What? Why!?"

"'cause she hates magic, Scoots. Fuckin' hates it. And that's not the worst of it; I think...I think she wants to get intimate with me, but we can't, 'cause what if my magic flares up and somethin' happens? If I hurt her, I couldn't live with myself, Scoots."

"Woah...Buck, are you okay?" Buck touched the wetness on his cheek. He grimaced and wiped his face with his sleeve. He needed to cut this shit out. He was dangerous.

"No."

"Okay...uh...well...do you wanna hug?" Buck looked up from his hands and down at Scoots. Her big purple eyes were filled with sympathy and her arms were outstretched. It would be his first human contact in days, and with no strings attached. He turned away.

"I don't think I should." And then he felt her warmth on his back. Scoots' arms were barely long enough to get around his waist, but as she squeezed, Buck felt just a little bit of the tension in his head level off.

"Is this weird...?" Scoots murmured into his back.

"Everything's weird right now. It's okay, I think." Scoots squeezed him tighter. She wasn't acting herself, and it made Buck forget a little of his own troubles.

"I missed you, bro." Scoots said against his back.

"It's only been a coupl'a days, Scoots." Buck said. It was gentle, or at least he intended it to be. He patted Scoots hands where they met at his stomach, and she quickly retreated from him. When he turned to look, Buck saw Scoots' face all flushed, and she was awkwardly facing forward.

"...It's boring here without you." Scoots said.

"Scoots? Were you worried about me?"

"Shut up, Buck!" Scoots snapped.

"If you insist." Buck shrugged. He could almost feel the heat of embarrassment washing off Scoots. It took her a little while to relax again.

"Okay...are you gonna catch on fire if I go use the bathroom?" Scoots eventually said.

"Probably, but go on anyway." Buck chuckled.

And then he was alone.

Buck looked at the clock. Not even an hour had passed since he got in. His eyes felt heavy.

"God damn. I ache in so many ways, right now." He sighed.

*DING DONG*

"Welcome to Sugar Cube Corner!" Buck's customer service voice came out automatically. Striding across the floor on a pair of purple heels was...someone he didn't recognize right away. She had carefully styled short blonde hair, dark tan skin, and an intimately familiar set of lines just under her eyes. She strode like a supermodel on a tightrope up to the counter, then stared at Buck for several seconds.

"Is there something I can get for you, ma'am?" Buck said, finally. His worksona settled in with restrained enthusiasm and smiled just ahead of his real face.

"I'm here to do a bit of window shopping, Mr...?" She said. Buck gestured helpfully to his name tag. "Purple Prose. That's a reasonably pleasant name." She said. Her heels tapped on the tile as she walked along the length of the display case. Buck couldn't help but notice the back view on the older woman. She had a silhouette that would've fit well on a playboy cover about a decade ago. She was wearing a purple lady suit with a matching pair of slacks. They were very tight around the ass. Focus, man.

"Thanks? Um...do I know you from somewhere?"

"I severely doubt it. My name is Ms. Harshwhinny, and I happen to work at the Barnyard Bargains Super Tower, just a few blocks from here." Buck caught his wince before it could slip out. So it was that one, then. Adagio had complained about her enough for Buck to understand Ms. Harshwhinny. It was time for him to play boomer baby talk again.

"Well, ma'am."

"Miss would be preferred."

"...well, Miss, if you'd like a sampler plate, I can set that up for you. It can be hard to decide on a treat, since they're all so good. I'd recommend the minty fudge cupcakes, which in my professional opinion are better than any other cupcake in Canterlot." Buck said.

"Hm. That sounds a bit sharp and wild. Do you have something a bit more subdued?"

"If you want something tender and sweet, there's the vanilla matcha cheese cake, which goes gorgeously with other caffeinated things, like a black tea or a coffee. I think it'd suit a business woman like yourself." Buck said. His posture had changed. It was odd, how comforting it was to just sort of slip into another role when the real you is a disaster.

"And what about something a bit riskier?" Ms. Harshwhinny said. She was bent over, studying the case, in side profile to Buck.

"Miss?" Ms. Harshwhinny rose and did a quick runway 180 to look at Buck, who tilted his head, not unlike a dog before snapping back to attention. "I didn't catch that."

"Something riskier." Harshwhinny grimaced; or maybe her face was just naturally like that, and turned toward the window, leaning against the edge of the display case. "Something dark, spicy and perhaps a bit fruity. Preferably thick and satisfying." It was at that point that Buck's eyebrow rose.

"...well I'm sorry to say that our passionfruit jalapeño ice cream cake poppers won't be properly in stock until they're done testing. But we do have a spiced rum ball red velvet cupcake! Hey, between you and me?" Buck said, conspiratorially. Harshwhinny took on a wry smile and leaned in.

"It's got homemade butter cream icing on top. Better than sex!" Buck whispered. Ms. Harshwhinny turned away with a dark, chittering giggle.

"Oh, Mr. Purple Prose, Adagio was right about you." Ms. Harshwhinny laughed.

"Eh?"

"Well, she talks about you from time to time, when pressed. She once said that things are 'never boring' with you around." Ms. Harshwhinny said.

"Ah, well."

"She's also said that you are famous for missing the point. A man with your reputation ought to have clued in by now." Harshwhinny said.

"Miss, I see what you're gettin' at, and I'm tellin' you that I'm not only not interested but my damn arm's in a cast."

"Is that so?"

"Well yeah, it's still mostly broken, I think."

"Well, it's just that I happen to have a lucrative opening that you may wish to seize. A man of your talents will fit right in, I assure you." Her businesslike tone hadn't lost a step, but now Harshwhinny was frowning across the counter, leaning forward slightly.

"Look, lady. I don't know what you've heard, but I'm not like that."

"Oh please, any man that can reach the standards of someone like Adagio Dazzle is worth something. If she's chosen you as her bedmate, I should like to see your skills for myself. I don't believe in wasting marketable skills, Mr. Purple Prose. It would hardly be unpleasant for you." Harshwhinny stepped slowly around the counter, then reached out to stroke at Buck's chin.

"First of all, don't touch me." Buck slapped Harshwhinny's hand away. Her scowl flickered, almost a smirk. "Second, I ain't cheap, lady. 'specially not for you." Buck said, crossing his arms.

"And what makes you think I won't compensate you appropriately?" Harshwhinny plucked a checkbook from her jacket pocket and quickly scrawled on it a number with enough zeros to pull a gasp out of Buck.

"And what do you say now, Mr. Purple Prose?" Buck felt like he was naked at an open mic night. He caught his breath. The wall clock ticked thunderously out of sync with the pop music jiving through Sugar Cube Corner.

"...what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to meet me in a private location and let me have a lovely evening in your care. After which I will leave you be and we will never speak of this again, unless of course you'd like to pursue a more consistent form of employment under me."

"Was that a joke?"

"You will give me your assurances that you are not carrying any venereal diseases, and that you will not stop until I say that I am satisfied, do I make myself clear?" Harshwhinny said. She hadn't broken eye contact. Buck wasn't sure that she'd blinked.

"I'm clean, and I still haven't agreed to this. How do I know you aren't going to pull some bullshit?"

"I assure you that my checks are not in the habit of bouncing, but I could make a cash transfer to your bank account right now if that's what you'd prefer. I'd also like to film it, for my personal enjoyment."

"What?" Buck balked. He heard a sound like a tiny, uneven drumroll nearby.

"I know what you're thinking, Mr. Purple Prose, but I assure you, any released film of the two of us cavorting would be more incriminating on me than you. You've got nothing to lose and, well, you saw the number." Harshwhinny said. Her tone dipped into a low tone that Buck assumed was used for board room negotiations. It wasn't quite like Adagio's predatory presence; this was the glowering of a salesman at a fancy car dealership.

"If you wanna film me, you're gonna double that number." Buck sneered. This seemed to catch Harshwhinny off guard, but then her shock unwound into a look of dull amusement.

"It appears the rumors were wrong about you, Mr. Purple Prose. Apparently, you're no ones' fool." Harshwhinny said. She placed the phone on the counter. "So, do we have a deal?" The number was enough to pay Buck's rent two times over, and that was before doubling. Buck pulled out a blank ticket and, after checking his phone two or three times to make sure the numbers were right, he wrote down some necessary information. Harshwhinny sent a quick message through an app, and Buck's phone jingled with a Sonic the Hedgehog ring sound.

"My address is on the other side. You can come tonight, around 8:30."

"Tonight? Isn't that a bit hasty? Are you that excited, Mr. Prose?"

"Don't flatter yourself, ma'am. I'm considering this another shift at work, and I'd rather get it done quickly."

"And professionally, I hope."

"Yes, I can offer professional quality." Buck sighed. Ms. Harshwhinny daintily raised her hand to about chest level.

"You may kiss it."

"Excuse me?"

"I've already paid you. You may kiss it." Harshwhinny repeated, just a bit forcefully. Buck grimaced, took Harshwhinny's hand as if she were a visiting dignitary, and with the sort of reverence one would show to their favorite porn star, Buck planted a tender kiss between her knuckles.

Buck heard Harshwhinny's breath catch, felt her fingers curl in around his own. Right. It was going to be one of these, then. Women in her age range tended to have very similar fantasies, he reasoned. He called it "evil stepmother syndrome". Buck bent his knees very slightly, let his shoulders slump, and tried to conjure a nearly innocent wideness in his eyes as he looked up at Ms. Harshwhinny. Her lip trembled briefly and curled up into the smallest of smiles.

"Excellent, Mr. Purple Prose. I'll see you tonight." Harshwhinny snatched her hand away, and with a quick and measured spin, she strode out of the store, leaving Buck almost alone.

"Scoots, if you tell anyone I'm never going to game night with you again." Buck said. Scoots stumbled out of the kitchen like a baby deer, blush full on her face.

"Buck, what the heck?"

"I mean it, Scoots. Not a damn word to anyone."

"Buck...don't'cha think Ditzy won't like it if you do that?"

"To be fuckin' frank, it's none of her business, or yours, Scoots."

"...what about Adagio?" Buck shut his eyes and tried once again not to overthink. Here was a solution to at least one of his problems, delivered to his door and gift-wrapped, and all he had to do was swallow his pride for one night. There were always risks, but the cash was worth it. Come to think of it, Buck thought, this seemed to be about his worth.

He was no good at keeping girls, but at the very least he could please them.

"What about her?" Buck said.

When Buck got home after work, a miracle happened. It seemed a miracle at first, anyway, There was a thump in the middle of his apartment that shifted the things on his desk. Buck had made the thump, as he'd managed to trip over his own damn feet while taking off his shoes again. He didn't land on his keys, which was a small mercy. Instead, he got an elbow down before his face could smack the floor. His left elbow. Buck didn't need to be told that landing on the elbow of an arm that had been fucking fractured in a fight with a tentacle monster was a bad thing in general, but what would have been helpful to know is why that arm didn't hurt much.

Buck touched in the space between his bicep and tricep. The sting was still there, just a little bit, but it was dull. He lifted his arm. It hurt, but far less. He undid his sling, let his arm drop. It only hurt a bit.

Buck couldn't believe it, at first. Then he realized what was happening, and his pleasant surprise curdled into resignation. He couldn't lift much of anything without it hurting, but his arm was mostly healed, it seemed, and way ahead of schedule.

"Ain't a bettin' man...but I can guess." Maybe the magic in him had accelerated his healing or made the spell stronger, or something. This should've been exciting, but Buck knew the score; having magic in you just meant there'd be more magic bullshit ahead. That's how it was with the Rainbooms, and that's how it was gonna be with Buck, he just knew it. At least he'd be able to jerk off properly now.

Buck laundered his bedspread at the coin-op downstairs, and he opened his window to air out the room and then broke out a few half-burnt scented candles from he couldn't remember how long ago. He applied moisturizer to his hands and made sure to exfoliate his face. He reapplied his deodorant and he even put on some lip balm for good measure. He managed to do all of this without looking in the mirror since he refused to meet his own eye.

A typical black tank top and his pyjama pants were more than enough, with some tight boxer briefs underneath in case Harshwhinny was the kind that liked to unwrap her gifts. He heard some muffled jazz coming from next door. Dinky would be asleep and Ditzy would be relaxing for the evening. Good. Just as he was thinking about how he'd trim his nose hairs without a mirror, he heard a curt and unfamiliar knock.

"Good evening, Mr. Purple Prose."

"Miss." Buck said, stepping aside. Ms. Harshwhinny's scrutiny cut a sour look across Buck's living space. She didn't resist as Buck gently removed her jacket and placed it on the rack. She was wearing a white shirt and suspenders.

"I was expecting a hotel room, at least."

"Times're tough." Buck said. He guided Harshwhinny to his bedroom door.

"Didn't I pay you well enough?" She hadn't asked about the arm. That's weird, isn't it? Buck thought.

"You expect me to use the commission for set dressing?"

"I expect professionalism."

"Professionals are frugal." Buck said. He pushed the door open. The bedroom was lit by a lavender-scented candle glow, a soothing lo-fi track filling the dim space. "But that doesn't mean they can't perform properly."

Harshwhinny wasted no time. She had a little tripod for her phone, which she carefully aligned on Buck's dresser to get a good shot of the bed. Buck sat, then patted the space next to him. His eyes stared straight ahead.

"Well?" Harshwhinny said, sitting on the slightly squeaky queen-sized mattress.

"Let's talk about what you want tonight to be. How d'ya want me to act?"

"Ah. Well, I'd like your full service."

"You want to be here all night?"

"Hm. I've paid for more than all night, but I can't very well sleep over. You wouldn't let me, would you?" Harshwhinny said. Buck snorted. "Why don't you pamper me a bit then, Mr. Purple Prose? I'm a very busy woman, and I don't have many chances to simply unwind. After that, we can get to the business itself."

"I can do that, but I meant are you looking for a character?"

"Well, how about the one you showed me at your work?"

"You want customer service?"

"Yes, And the twist you used at the end. Don't think I didn't notice."

"Okay. Young, pampering customer service that humors you and looks at you like an innocent pool boy. Am I gettin' that right?"

"My. You have done this before, haven't you?" For just a moment, Harshwhinny's uppity drawl melted into a seductive purr. It gave Buck a bit of pause. It reminded him of Adagio. Worse, it reminded him of Her.

"You paid for the best. Are you ready to start?" Buck sighed.

"Certainly, Mr. Prose. Let's begin." Harshwhinny said it like she was the captain of a starship crew. Buck stifled a chuckle and then made an effort to empty his mind. Breathe. This is just a role, that you're building one piece at a time, he thought. Find what she wants, and give it to her.

"Okay." Buck got to his feet, turned, and looked over Harshwhinny, searching for something to compliment. He offered his hand. "Miss? Could you stand, for me? Let me help you out of those."

Harshwhinny blinked incredulously. Where had his accent gone? She placed her hand in his, and with a gentle tug, he brought her to her feet. Buck was slightly shorter than her. He reached up and straightened Harshwhinny's collar.

"Hold still, please." His thick fingers brushed her neck as Purple Prose carefully undid the top button of her shirt. How long had it been since a young male had fussed over her like this?

"It's not entirely necessary for you to undress me, Mr. Purple Prose." Harshwhinny said, giving zero resistance as his hands slid her sleeves off her shoulders. He was behind her now.

"Well, I'd like to. Arms up, please." Buck said, just behind her ear. Harshwhinny allowed him to shift her shirt off and watched him carefully fold it and place it on top of the dresser. "You have beautiful shoulders."

"Hm?"

"I mean it. You're in excellent shape for someone who works in an office." Buck said. His fingers traced along the apparent line between Harshwhinny's deltoid and bicep muscles. She was well-toned, and while Buck wasn't really looking, he noticed that her bra was one of the ones he tended to see on racks at Barnyard Bargains.

"Naturally. A sound employee needs to have a sound mind and a sound body..." Harshwhinny trailed off a bit and Buck's hands slid up and down her stomach.

"A sound body, huh?" Buck noticed zero blemishes on Ms. Harshwhinny's naked shoulders and caressed the tender curve of her stomach with the tips of his finger. He felt the slightest tremble.

"I-Indeed."

"You can relax, Miss. Trust me to take care of you." Buck slid his arms around her in a soothing embrace.

"Apologies for the ugly beige bra, Mr. Purple Prose. It's just that--"

"It's just that women with your size have a hard time finding bras that are both sexy and practical?" Buck said. He kissed Harshwhinny's shoulder, sliding his hands to her back, trailing up.

"Yes. You'd be amazed the tax you can pay for having certain physical assets." Harshwhinny said. Buck carefully undid the bra's band, one tiny hook at a time. He kissed gently at the nape of Harshwhinny's neck, earning another little hitch in her breath. "You are remarkably gentle, Mr. Prose."

"I can be. I think a woman like you should be treated gently."

"Excuse me?" Harshwhinny's tone sharpened.

"Just the lower back pain alone speaks for itself." Buck said. Harshwhinny's bra dropped to the floor. Buck's hands came around and cradled Harshwhinny's breasts. They felt heavy and a bit saggy. He gave them a tender squeeze and slid his fingers around until he found her nipples. With the slightest pinch, Harshwhinny went rigid and seemed to hold her breath. "I think that you have a beautiful body, Miss. I think it ought to be handled with care."

"Mr. Purple Prose?" Harshwhinny said as Buck's hands groped and fondled her chest.

"Yes, Miss?" Buck said.

"I would like to kiss you." Harshwhinny said. Her head turned and found Buck's lips ready to receive her. Buck gave her a nod. Even Harshwhinny's kisses were short and curt. Buck pulled her hips towards him, pressing his crotch against her, then his hands slid up and began to unbuckle her pants. Between Harswhinny's pecks, Buck unzipped her slacks.

"Please let me know if I'm going too fast." Buck said softly. Harshwhinny kissed him and let it linger as his fingers trailed in her waistband. He planted trailing kisses down her back as he slid her pants down. He kissed softly against the slope of her ass, then rose to begin folding. Harshwhinny grabbed his wrist in a firm grip as he stepped away from her.

"Don't go. Just leave them on the floor." Harshwhinny ordered. Buck obeyed, then guided her to sit. He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. Harshwhinny sighed and closed her eyes, then balked at Buck as he cut the kiss off, sliding down to knee height.

"Do these heels make your feet ache?" Buck said. He carefully unbuckled one, gingerly lifting the foot to slide it off, and then the sock. He kissed up along Harshwhinny's shin.

"They sometimes do, but they also command a certain authority, so I am more than willing to bear with it."

"That's very noble of you." Buck droned. He placed the pair of shoes away from the bed, and then kissed along Harshwhinny's other calf, up to her knee. His hand slid up behind the knee and heard Harshwhinny let out the slightest of squeaks. Buck smirked, then sat on the bed next to Harshwhinny. "Could you scoot back on the bed and lay down, for me?"

"What for?"

"You said to help you unwind."

"What exactly are you going to--!" Harshwhinny gasped and shrunk away. She laid back, stifling an involuntary giggle, then very nearly a moan. Buck had taken her foot and was gently massaging her inner sole.

"Exactly what I said." The middle knuckle of his left hand pressed circles into Harshwhinny's foot while his right hand steadied her ankle. "Relax, Miss. Relax..." Harshwhinny sighed with relief and went slack.

"Now, tell me, what has you so stressed?"

It was almost time. The preparations had taken what seemed like forever, but the time was finally coming to make her move! That is to say. Ditzy had been working all evening at it, but finally, it was coming together. Her living room was filled with the smell of rising dough and minty chocolate. She had heard Buck say once, maybe that he would die on the hill that mint and chocolate was a great flavor combination, even though Scootaloo said it made her gag. Now, all Ditzy had to do was wait for them to finish cooking and cooling, and she could go over and surprise Buck with a tasty treat!

That had to raise his spirits at least a little bit, right?

Ditzy turned up the tv. It was some spooky news report about strange happenings in town. Something to do with missing persons. Could have just been a hoax. Ditzy didn't like liars.

"Honestly, first tentacle thingies and now this! Was Canterlot ever really normal?" Ditzy said. "Poor Buck, getting all tangled up."

Dinky was the heaviest sleeper in the world, so Ditzy could go next door and at least give Buck a muffin, even if he didn't want to talk. Ditzy thinly hoped he didn't want to talk. She was real scared that he would want to talk about Adagio, or about the kiss, and then she would get nervous and start rambling!

Ditzy's needles stopped. This had started as a scarf for Scootaloo, but it was getting kind of out of control.

"Come to think of it...is Buck home yet? He should be; I mean, what would he be out doing with a broken arm?"

"And that's why I keep a bottle of wine under my desk. Being a leader is extremely difficult, but managing an office is that on top of being a babysitter for grown adults." Harshwhinny sighed. She was now on her stomach, eyes closed as Buck dug his thumbs into the small of her back.

"That sounds like a massive amount of pressure, Miss. I know how hard it can be to try and get people to do the right thing. It's like herding ladybugs." Buck said. Harshwhinny laughed in a way that suggested a row of periods instead of an exclamation point. It was rough and filled with a dry meanness. Then the chuckle broke into a groan as Buck rubbed her sore back muscles.

"You have odd sense of humor, Miss. Deep breath..." Buck instructed. Harshwhinny's back rose as air filled her lungs, and she exhaled loudly as Buck pressed down with his palms. There was no crack.

"When you've worked in my field; shepherding people toward a goal, for as long as I have, you learn to savor your petty little laughs when they arise. It's how you stay sane." Harshwhinny said.

"Forgive me for sayin', but it sounds like you've been through a lot." Buck said. His hands slid up her back and pinched her trapezius. How long had it been since he'd treated Adagio this way? Don't think about her now. This is just a role.

"I suppose that's something we have in common, Mr. Purple Prose." Harshwhinny said.

"Oof, you're extremely tense around the neck, Miss."

"That's quite enough. Would you mind scratching my back?" Harshwhinny said. She shifted onto her side and curled into something of a fetal position. It was odd to see someone with such a commanding presence look so vulnerable. Buck laid beside her and dragged his nails up and down her back, especially focusing on where the band of her bra was.

"I'm sure your Adagio has told you plenty of stories about how I'm a ferocious monster in the office." Harshwhinny sulked.

"No, she was more verbose about describing you. And by the way, she ain't 'My Adagio.'

Ditzy Doo gasped on the other side of the wall. Her thoughts were racing.

"Buck is with a woman in his bedroom!" She whispered. "But it sounds like she asked him to...scratch her back? And they're sorta chatting?" Did Buck make a new friend? How were they so intimate already? Ditzy thought she really ought to stop listening and leave him alone, but she was feeling a familiar old worry, and she didn't want to think that Buck had already found another woman so quickly after...he said she's not 'his Adagio'.

Scootaloo was telling the truth.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah." Buck's persona slipped just a bit, and his accent poked out.

"I was under the impression that the two of you were very close. The word 'boyfriend' was used on the local news."

"We were." Buck said, souring.

"But that's no longer the case? I can only assume from her temperament that Adagio is at fault. Are you feeling quite alright?" Harshwhinny sounded like a patient math tutor as she tutted. Buck rankled at her condescending tone.

"I am, and that's all I'll say about it. Tonight is about you. Go on." Buck said. He scratched at her lower back and heard Harshwhinny hum with contentment.

"I know my approach can be abrasive, but I only do what I do because..."

"Because it's what's best for the team."

"It's all that I know." Harshwhinny finished with a sigh.

"We're...not always good at the things that we want to do, Miss. I understand. Is this good?" Buck said. He reached up and started scratching in Harshwhinny's scalp. He noticed the greys in between the blondes, then.

"Sss...yes, that's good. It's lonely at the top, did you know?"

"Trust me, it can be just as lonely at the bottom."

"Well, at least I'm not lonely tonight. Mr. Prose?"

"Yes?"

"For just a little bit, before we begin, would you mind holding me?"

"Holding you?" Buck said. He scooted up and laid himself in a big spoon position against Harshwhinny. His arm slid over her. "Like this?"

"That will do fine, Mr. Prose." He felt her hand grasp his gently. Her other hand petted and slid along his fingers. "It's odd. None of the rumors mentioned this side of you, Mr. Prose. I didn't expect you to make me feel so..."

"Comfortable?"

"Vulnerable." Harshwhinny spat.

"I guess they wouldn't."

"It makes sense. The creatures in this horrible city wouldn't know a quality individual if it bit them on the neck." Harshwhinny said. She'd paused briefly before she found 'city', like other words weren't quite pejorative enough. She must've grown up in the country, Buck thought.

"I was going to say my other talents must speak louder, but sure, go off."

"It's amazing how little things change when you change locations. People are small-minded no matter where you go. I shudder to think of all the years I've worked just to end up landing here by a quirk of fate. Disgusting." Harshwhinny said. She shook with rage and squeezed Buck's hand, almost painfully. He didn't say anything.

"Well? Are you not going to say anything, or did my grumbling strike you mute?" Harshwhinny huffed.

"That's where I know you from! You were at speed dating a while ago; same night I was there!" Buck said, springing up, excitedly. Harshwhinny squinted over her shoulder at him, wondering why her blanket was running away.

"You must be mistaken."

"No, you definitely asked if I was mute then, too. But I was just letting you talk, like now." Buck smiled.

"If you insist." Harshwhinny said. She nearly recoiled as Buck began to stroke her side.

"I know it must not mean much coming from me, Miss. But I'm sure there're plenty of folks out in the city that would love to get to know you. I've found that when everything goes wrong in my life, it's always my friends that help me pull through."

"I don't need friends." Harshwhinny growled. Oops. Buck tried to course correct. He'd offended her.

"Of course not. But you do need intimacy, don't you? You seem pretty touch starved to me." Buck said. He slid back down and nuzzled his nose at the back of Harshwhinny's neck.

"I'm perfectly fine as I am."

"Sure. But we all need a little love, now and again. I get it."

"Love. Hah! Love is fickle. Love can change. Love can be consumed and the leftovers of a heart spit out like seed."

"Yikes. Is that Lord Byron?"

"Whom?"

"Never mind."

"What the heck is going on in there?" Ditzy said. Buck was having a pretty intimate conversation with someone that Ditzy hadn't heard before, but it seemed pretty platonic. Buck treated Scootaloo about the same way, Ditzy thought. As long as Buck was okay, that's what mattered in the end. Maybe his friend would like a muffin as well?

The thought had just registered when Ditzy was jolted suddenly by the loud chime of the oven. She had to finish up those muffins, so she got up. She felt pretty guilty about spying again, but giving Buck those muffins would help a lot. She was sure of it.

"For your sanity. I'm just saying, Miss--"

"You've said enough, Mr. Prose. Let's move on to the main event."

"Are you sure? We could keep on--"

"That wasn't a question." Harshwhinny said.

"...fine. Let's move to the edge of the bed, Miss." Buck gestured for Ms. Harshwhinny to lay back at the edge, but she instead rose and stood before him, crossing her arms. Buck noticed that everything on her but the sharp lines on her face had a bit of sag to it. She had round birthing hips, a mostly flat stomach, and toned thighs. She really was very beautiful, despite the sour look on her face.

"Well? Kneel." Harshwhinny said, down her nose. Buck slid off the edge of the bed and down to his knees. He was on eye level with her perfectly trimmed mound of venus. Just below sat a slit so tight that Buck couldn't see her clitoris.

"Like this?"

"Yes. Now, I take it you know what to do, Mr. Prose?" Harshwhinny said. She lifted her knee and rested it on the bed beside Buck's head. Her eyebrow raised, as did the corner of her lips.

Buck nodded, then licked his lips and dug in.

Harshwhinny's stance was firm as Buck's tongue slid slowly up and down her labia. Buck lapped with patient slowness, licking softly until Harshwhinny grabbed his head and pressed insistently against him. This was the easiest part. He didn't have to talk; all he had to do was perform. She tasted sour and hot. He licked deeper with just a bit more speed, catching up to the lazy tempo of the chill beats floating through the room.

"Yes...there you go, Mr. Prose. Ah, ah. Look at me." Harshwhinny said. She pulled at Buck's roots, and he fixed his eyes straight up at her in response. "There you are...do you like the way I taste?" Buck tried to lift his head out, but Harshwhinny pushed down with her hips. He was trapped. "No, you can tell me right where you are."

"Mmm...mmm..." Buck stared up into Harshwhinny's icy blue eyes and he groaned against her walls, digging into her wet hole with his tongue. Harshwhinny's hips rolled into Buck's face with a sudden, jerking pace. She had Buck fast by the hair with one hand and was fondling one of her nipples with the other. A few low gasps came out of her lips as she stared down at him.

Of course. Women like this were all about control, weren't they? Her sharp nails stung at his scalp.

"Just like that. Just like that..." Ms. Harshwhinny grunted. There was no rhythm to her movements, Harshwhinny thrust into Buck's face, occasionally pausing to groan and squeeze her thighs around him.

It could be worse. At least you've got air. It could always be worse.

Buck reached up and stroked the sides of Harshwhinny's smooth hips and let her lead. She only went harder and more frantic. Now she was biting at the tip of her nail, one eye open as she rubbed herself all over Buck's mouth.

"Be...a good boy...and suck on it...!" Harshwhinny whined. She pulled back on Buck's hair, and the tilt of the head was enough for him to start suckling and lapping at Harshwhinny's clitoris.

Buck let his head go slack, and as he ate her out, he let his mind wander. Maybe he'd treat himself to sushi? Sushi always made him feel better. She didn't taste all that terrible. It was a tacky, semi-sour taste, with maybe the slight hint of a floral note. She'd washed before coming over. Buck thought maybe in another life he could have been a professional wine taster. He thought that stuff was a load of elitist horseshit, of course, but he'd like to get paid to convince rich people that their palettes were more advanced than the poors, but make up increasingly ludicrous reasons for it. Ah yes, if you swirl it next to your ear first, you can hear the flavor profile settling in. It's like pop rocks, do you hear it? Mm. Yes, yes, I think this has a flavor like the man who stomped these grapes has a cheating spouse. Can you taste his resignation? Yes, yes. Resignation. Buck was so tired of resignation. He wanted to resign right the fuck out of his current living situation. With his piss poor credit score, at best he could aspire to an only halfway shitty loft on the other side of town. When he was a kid, he'd always dreamed of a little observatory on a beach. Or maybe even a lighthouse. Going crazy in a lighthouse alone with maybe some watercolor paint and a typewriter sounded like the ideal retirement for him. And internet access, preferably. Might be kind of rad to stream it.

"Am I boring you, Mr. Prose?" Harshwhinny's voice lanced straight through Buck's bleary-eyed daydream, bringing him back to the dissociative episode already in progress. Harshwhinny had asked a question. Buck tried to pull back and answer, but Harshwhinny held him firm, his lips mashed up against her drooling gash.

"You're doing an excellent job down there, but I can see you drifting. Is this the professionalism that I paid for?" Harshwhinny hissed. She loosened her grip on Buck's hair, but certainly didn't let go.

"No Miss. Sorry Miss. I have a lot on my mind." Buck said in a whining tone. Harshwhinny's eyebrow raised.

"I don't care for your excuses. You aren't even hard. Am I truly that dreadful of a task?"

"No Miss. Not at all. I'm here for you, tonight. I'll do whatever you need me to." Buck said. He maintained eye contact and planted a few sweet, apologetic kisses on Harshwhinny's clitoris. The slightest of grins.

"In that case, Mr. Prose. I'd like you to lay me properly." Harshwhinny said. She took her leg off the bed and stepped aside. Buck wiped his face on his arm, then sat up on the bed, patting the space next to him. Harshwhinny sat in the sternest manner possible. Buck screamed in his own head not to fuck this up.

"I apologize. I was focused on pleasuring you, when I should be savoring you. That's what you came for." Buck said. He reached over and squeezed Harshwhinny's thigh.

"You're not as slow as you look, Mr. Prose."

"And what's the matter with looking slowly?" Buck purred. He kissed her shoulder. His hand drifted up her thigh. "Some things are a feast for the eyes. You can't take a great work of art all at once, it's simply not done." His lips slid up to Harshwhinny's neck. Buck's hand trailed up her form, took her hand, and placed it at the back of his head. He nibbled up her trapezius slowly. Harshwhinny sighed as Buck touched his praise into her tender nerves.

"...go on." Harshwhinny blushed, finally. Buck reached into his old mental thesaurus, the one that got him through many english exams, and fished out some five-dollar words.

"Every work of art has innumerable details, both intentional and not. To appreciate the piece, you have to train your eye to notice these details. The swishing brush work of an impressionist piece, or the wandering plucks of a slow jazz guitar number..." Buck said. His feather-light fingertips brushed Harshwhinny's nipple then wandered down her stomach.

"An adorable mole placed right against the navel. The tender slope of shapely hips." Buck's fingers strolled along the outer edge of Harshwhinny's thigh. His other hand took her cheek as his sight met with hers. "A pair of gorgeously sharp and intimidating eyes, placed in a face of classical beauty." Buck said, against her lips. Harshwhinny's hand slid down and found something else to touch. Her fingers were as smooth as silk as they toyed with his half-hard shaft. It began to twitch. Focus now, Buck. Don't wander.

"Are you calling me a work of art, Mr. Prose?" Harshwhinny whispered. Buck kissed her just barely in the space of a second.

"Yes. You are a piece of architecture." Buck's fingers slid down toward her inner thigh.

"What?" Harshwhinny hissed. She pinched at Buck's tip in an almost painful way.

"You've been built up, shaped by your own hands and perfected over years. You are sturdy and resplendent and eternal. A masterpiece." Buck said. He stroked at Harshwhinny's cheek. At the same time, he stroked at her labia with even more tenderness. "Let me appreciate you, Miss."

"So you are a professional after all~" Harshwhinny smiled as Buck kissed her. He tried to push it into the salacious but chaste sort of thing you saw in old movies. Like the woman wasn't super into it, but the man was, and he was pushing his luck. From the other side, Buck guessed. Harshwhinny's palm slid all over Buck's cock head, while his fingers found their target. Harshwhinny gasped against Buck's lips as he rubbed sweet, squeezing circles around her clit.

Harshwhinny's rigid poise began to melt away as Buck pushed her down with his insistent kisses. She squeezed at his length, and in answer, he slid his fingers inside her. Harshwhinny's head hit the bed. She gasped as Buck pressed in, and reluctantly let out a breathy moan as he thrust upward with his fingers. There was a series of wet, rapid shlicking noises.

For a few moments, Harshwhinny was nothing but squeezing thighs and low groans, groping at Buck's cock as his quick fingers worked her. Buck kept up a speedy pace, playfully nipping at her lips. Her moans thinned out into high, chest heaving gasps until she desperately snatched at Buck's wrist and pushed him away. A few strands of hair were in her flushed face. She looked almost angry.

"Enough teasing! I told you to lay me properly." Harshwhinny said. It seemed hard to maintain 'professional composure' through gritted teeth and shallow breaths. Buck got up and opened his drawer, pulling out a colorful bit of wrapper.

"What is that?" Harshwhinny snapped.

"A condom, Miss?"

"Birth control?"

"Yes, Miss."

"Throw it away."

"Miss?"

"You heard me. You will give me exactly what I want, until I'm satisfied. That's what I paid for." Harshwhinny said, the flicker of a smirk crossing her face. Buck ran the numbers in his head. Menopause? Definitely. STDs? Unlikely. He tossed the condom over his shoulder. His tank top followed it, then his pyjama pants. Harshwhinny joylessly looked over his body.

"Yes, Miss. Lay back. Relax..." Buck said. He lubricated his now hard cock with the fingers that had been inside of his client. He lined himself up.

"Stay close to me. I want to look in your eyes as you feel me, Mr. Prose..." Harshwhinny said. Her hand was back on Buck's neck, but firmly around the front. Her knees opened to let him in. She was smiling again.

"Yes Miss. Just hold on..." Buck's cock slid against her wet lips. He took care to line up properly, never letting his eyes wander away from hers. She sneered and winced as he slid into her. It was a fight to fit.

"You're incredibly tight, Miss...you're squeezing me!" Buck had definitely read somewhere that older women experienced shrinking down there if they didn't use the muscles regularly, but apparently if--he caught his rambling thoughts before they could wander off. He made of show of moaning softly as he made it halfway in.

"Come on then...give me the rest of it, boy." Harshwhinny hissed. Buck grunted and slammed the rest of his length into her. She dug her nails into his back and licked her lips. "Theeeere you are, Mr. Prose..." She growled.

Buck immediately started thrusting. It was a sensual grinding at first, but then there was a spark of pain across Buck's face. Harshwhinny had slapped him.

"Don't hold back on me, Mr. Prose. I paid for the best. You will give me your best. Deeper. Harder!" Harshwhinny groaned in a low, demanding tone. Buck grimaced and adjusted himself a bit. He wiggled his cock inside her for a moment, then drove it home as he took a scissoring position against Harshwhinny. With one leg between her thighs and the other over her hip, Buck started hammering into the older woman. Now he knew what she wanted. She wanted a young man to go crazy for her. Harshwhinny's demands fell apart, replaced by the sort of throaty grunt that only older women make during sex.

"Shh! I have neighbors, Miss." Buck insisted, and instantly Harshwhinny was biting her knuckles while Buck's hips slapped wetly into hers. He watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Harshwhinny grabbed at the bedsheets with her other hand, her stern expression barely staying afloat while Buck rocked her body. She was surprisingly easy. She was getting close. Buck winced as he kept up the frantic pace. He'd have to pull out soonish, but he thought he could get her over first. His left arm ached. It felt like this was taking forever, but it was just one night. Buck could handle one night.

"Ooh..! Mm..Haah! Oh!" Harshwhinny grunted like every hard, heavy thrust was a surprise. Buck groaned and huffed in Harshwhinny's ear. Stroke her pride a little.

"Miss...you feel amazing!" Buck said. Harshwhinny's words were unintelligible. Every time she started to speak, Buck drove his cock in hard and pressed in as deep as he could.

"Nononodon't slow down! Don't slow down, Mr. Prose...!" Harshwhinny gasped. Buck picked up the pace, and now he could feel her legs shaking. She was so damn wet, he was sure he'd have to launder his sheets again right after this. Maybe in the morning.

*SLAP*

Harshwhinny's cold side eye caught Buck once more. She'd slapped him in the exact same spot as before. Harshwhinny grabbed his shoulder for support and stared at him coldly while he plowed her. She ground her teeth together and shut her eyes as Buck worked her until she found those barking grunts again. She was sort of cute, in a way, Buck decided. He also decided that he didn't want to fucking do this again. Harshwhinny's grunts became light and airy and close together. She was right on the edge now, Buck could feel it in her trembling squeezes. Her hips were bucking up into his desperately. He needed to push just a little bit more...

"Is that good, Miss? Is this what you wanted? To be ravaged by someone who can appreciate a real work of art like you? So close, Miss! I'm so close!" Buck groaned. Harshwhinny was writhing and shaking underneath him, she was so close, and he was so close to being done, but suddenly, her eye shot open again.

"Stop." She snarled. Buck obeyed, breathing heavily.

"Miss?"

"Do you think I can't tell when someone is faking it for my sake?"

"Miss, I didn't--" And suddenly she rose with surprising strength. Suddenly Buck was beneath her. She pinned his left wrist to the bed. It hurt.

"That's enough talk out of you, Mr. Prose. I'm the one who does the ravaging from here on..." Harshwhinny hissed. Buck placed a placating hand on her hip, but she snatched it and pinned it up with his left. Somehow, he was still inside of her. Her hand was large enough to cover half his face, and she leaned her weight onto that hand, her palm flat against Buck's mouth. All Buck could do was breathe heavily and hope she would be done soon.

"I don't care how long it takes. You are going to put out this fire in me, Mr. Prose!" Harshwhinny brought her hips crashing forward, and with little in the way of grace she pumped her hips frantically. She was so damn tight it almost hurt. The bed squeaked as Harshwhinny laid into him, a vicious smile splitting her face. Now her moans were girlish and high. Her icy eyes gleamed. Buck shut his own, but then he felt trails of sharp pain as Harshwhinny raked her nails across his chest.

"Look at me!" Harshwhinny demanded. She slapped him across the face and grinned. Buck nodded quickly and stared back up. Her pussy was strangling his cock. Buck tried to grunt encouragement, but it was a little more of a wheeze. Harshwhinny's thumb was on his neck. She was licking her lips. It was coming. Buck couldn't help it. He tried to lose himself in her eyes, but something was wrong in them. He closed his fists and silently thrust up against Harshwhinny. She moaned in triumph.

Harshwhinny fell against him, sliding her hands under his back and immediately digging her nails in hard. She put all of her effort into bouncing her hips. "Good boy...! Good boy...!" She hissed against his ear.

Buck's mind twisted away from the scene. It's just one night. Just keep it together. Be a man. It could be worse. It's just a role. It's not you, it's just a role. It's just a role. It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Ditzy please, tell me it's going to be okay!

Ditzy took a tiny morsel of the cooled cupcake and giggled with excitement. They were perfect! She'd sprinkled some crushed oreo on top for just a bit of crunch. Combined with the creamy chocolate and the cool mint, she knew that Buck would love it. She wrapped one in a bit of plastic and left it on the bed stand next to Dinky.

"A nice little surprise for later..." Ditzy said, kissing her sleeping daughter's forehead.

Now, what to wear? It was late already; close to 9:30, but then Buck was a night owl, anyway. Ditzy decided to wear some pyjamas.

"It would be weird to show up in a dress, wouldn't it?" She giggled to herself. Her pyjamas were a sleeveless dark blue thingy with sheep sleeping on crescent moons as a pattern, with matching shorts. Ditzy straightened her hair out in the mirror, just to be sure.

"Don't be silly! Buck doesn't care about how your hair looks, he uhhh...he likes your shampoo? It's fine. You're fine! Buck needs you, so, just march right over there, and give him the muffins! Oh...that sounds dirty..." Ditzy said to her reflection. She shook the cobwebs out of her head, did a little fist pump in the mirror, and then, with a little plate of fresh, delicious muffins in hand, she stepped out into the hallway.

"You've performed adequately, Mr. Prose. Money well spent, in other words. I'd like to thank you for your time and patience." Was that meant to be a compliment? Buck couldn't be sure. He stood in his threshold, dressed only in his reclaimed pyjama bottoms. His hair was a mess, his chest and back stung, and he had settled into a depressingly familiar dirty feeling that at least distracted him from the other failures in his life. Harshwhinny seemed to be waiting for a rebuttal that didn't come. Buck simply stared at her, exhausted.

"Yes, well, that being said. Can I expect further cooperation in the future? I'd be more than willing to pay the same rate." Harshwhinny said.

"Don't hold your breath, lady."

"Was I really so awful?" Harshwhinny huffed.

"Are we done here?"

"I suppose we are. Good night, Mr. Prose." Harswhinny gave Buck the tiniest nod, looked left, smirked for just a moment, then turned right and strode to the stairs. Buck watched her go, to make sure that she actually left, and once he heard the half-click half-slam of the door downstairs, he finally let himself breathe.

"Buck?" Buck wished he could turn into a statue for just a moment. He looked slowly over in the way he always saw victims in horror movies look. His dread turned into silent terror as he saw Ditzy Doo standing in the hall just outside her door. She had a little plate of treats, a set of extremely cute pyjamas, and a deeply confused expression. Buck thought to scramble behind his door and slam it shut, but he couldn't seem to move.

"...hey Ditzy. I didn't know you were still up."

"Buck, who was that woman?"

"No one! No one, just an acquaintance o'mine that needed a lil' help, that's all." When did you start lying to her?

"Are you alright?" Ditzy said. She stepped forward, and every molecule in Buck's body caused him to step back.

"That's alright, Ditzy. It's late. Did'ja bring me muffins? That's real sweet!" Buck panicked. He shrunk slowly back into his threshold, hand pulling the creaking door closed.

"Buck, let me in." Ditzy's eye roamed Buck's face, then trailed down. She gasped. "Buck, you're bleeding! What did she do to you?"

"I'm fine, Ditzy, I'm fine! It's okay, we can have the muffins later. I'm really tired, so I think I'm gonna go to bed." Buck's protests trailed off as Ditzy's fingers touched the side of his head. He thought for certain that she would yank at his hair as Harshwhinny had, but instead, she stroked gently like she was soothing a puppy.

"Buck, it's okay. You're okay. I'm here..." Ditzy said. Her forehead touched Buck's, and it was all he could do to not crumble into dust right on the spot. Buck let out the breath he'd been holding. "I'm helping. Please, let me in." Ditzy soothed. Buck nodded.

The music was off, now. The candles snuffed. Buck sat despondently on his living room couch, hating everything about himself as Ditzy applied bandages. The uneasy silence finally broke with Ditzy's concern.

"She scratched you up...what happened, Buck? Who was she?"

"I don't really know." Buck droned.

"You don't know? Why was she here, Buck?" The rubbing alcohol stung in Buck's new cuts. It wasn't punishment enough.

"You know why, Ditzy. I know you hear what people say about me."

"No, I don't, Buck. I learned a long time ago not to listen to rumors about you. I was at CHS too, remember?" Ditzy giggled, and her warmth splashed across Buck's cheeks. The memory wasn't pleasant, but it was far away from here.

"Ditzy. Money's hard. Everything costs an arm and a leg, and sometimes Sugar Cube Corner isn't enough. Sometimes throwin' articles around isn't enough either." Buck started. He wasn't sure how he'd get through this. Ditzy was sitting behind him, rubbing his back in little circles. She was listening.

"This last while has been real rough on me."

"It sure has, Buck."

"You have to understand, Ditzy, I didn't want to do it. It's been a long time; I've been good! But I needed the money."

"Buck...what happened?" She wasn't getting it. Buck shook and fought his tears back as he turned to her.

"Ditzy, I'm a prostitute! Not the fancy escort kind, neither. I'm just...a cheap fuck. That's why girls talk about me in town! It's because they know I'm a whore!" Buck's tone went high and cracked and desperate.

Ditzy's head was spinning on a carousel. She tried to put the pieces together. It made sense, didn't it? Buck was scarred. He had a hang-up about being used. He kept in shape and did a lot of self-grooming. His emotional distance. His exhaustion. All the girls he took to his room.

Those weren't dates. They were paying him!

Ditzy felt like she was sitting in the eye of a hurricane, and every ounce of her wanted to scream for help, but then she stopped and thought. Buck had been sitting in this storm the whole time. She tried to be as careful as possible.

"How many times have you had to do this?" It was the kind of whisper you gave to a child that had an accident in second grade.

"I don't like to count that stuff..." Buck said. "A lot. Too many. Not for a while though, Ditzy, not for a while, I promise. I'm sorry!"

"Berry Punch?"

"Not the first time. I thought there was really something there." Buck said.

"The other time?"

"She paid me." Buck sighed.

"But why, Buck? You can do lots of stuff! Why...why this?" Ditzy said. Buck gritted his teeth.

"Because I'm not good at anything else, Ditzy!"

"What? You fix stuff for me all the time, and, and you're creative!"

"You can't get paid to just 'be creative', Ditzy! And you have to go through a whole expensive program to be a handyman."

"Well, well, you're uh, getting pretty good at making those tarts! And you can sing! And don't you draw sometimes, too? You've got so many ideas, you're smarter than you think!"

"No, I'm not. A smart man wouldn't have to do this shit to get by. I'm okay at a bunch of stuff, Ditzy. But I'm not fuckin' good at anything. I'm not charming enough to be an influencer. I'm not good at numbers, so most office jobs are a no go, and I'm a college dropout. Nobody fucking wants me, not even at entry level. Only reason I got the gig at Sugar cube Corner is 'cause Pinkie vouched for me. I got nothin'."

"Buck, don't talk like that! You've got plenty going for you! All you have to do is try, and, and get out there, and someone'll see! All it takes is for the right person to see you, and like you, and it'll all work out!"

"I don't even like me, Ditzy."

Silence, after that, and for a good while. Buck spied Ditzy's face from the corner of his eye. She looked genuinely offended.

"I'm sorry you had to see this. I understand if you don't want to talk about last week. I wouldn't want anything to do with me, either." Great, Buck, just great, get all maudlin on her, that'll help!

"I think you should have a muffin, Buck." Ditzy said, finally.

"I don't think a muffin's gonna help, Ditzy."

"Pssh. Muffins always help! Come on. Say 'ah'." Ditzy said. The absolute seriousness on her face as she held a muffin up to Buck's mouth made him crack into a chuckle. Ditzy smiled and pushed it to his lips, and he took a nibble. He blinked and took a fat bite off the top.

"...good god damn, Ditzy. That's an amazing muffin!" Buck said. It was fresh and warm and tasted like a dream. "How'd you even do this? How'd you know I like mint chocolate?"

"Maybe I know you better than you think, Buck!" Ditzy smiled triumphantly.

"You want some?" Buck said between bites. Ditzy blushed as he offered a morsel, then she frowned nervously. She touched her lips.

"Are um...do you...you know?"

"What?"

"You don't...have anything, right?"

"I'm clean, Ditzy." Buck deadpanned.

"You're not on drugs, right?"

"Besides caffeine?" Buck said. Right. He'd almost forgotten the conversation they were having.

"Buck, you really shouldn't drink so much coffee, I know you don't like it when I nag you about it..."

"Okay, Mom!" Buck huffed. For another moment, things were normal, but then Buck started to sink again.

"Don't tell Mrs. Cake about this, Ditzy. I'm beggin' you."

"Of course not!"

"And don't tell Dinky. I don't think I could take it if she started treatin' me different."

"Whaddya mean, different?"

"Like how you're lookin' at me right now." Buck said. Ditzy seemed to startle at that. She must not have noticed the way she was staring. Like Buck was a ragged coyote that had wandered onto her patio.

"Buck..."

"I get it, okay? I've heard it all. I'm used goods. I'm too easy. I'm a fuckin' tramp in the literal sense."

"Buck, stop. I can't stand it when you say things like that!" Ditzy's hands were warm and soft on Buck's cheeks. She made him face her. At that moment, he thought that her hands could hold up the whole world.

"You're not gonna see me the same way after tonight." Buck said. His eyes drifted away. He felt Ditzy's thumb rub the remaining lipstick off his lip.

"All I see is a guy who's out here doin' his best." Ditzy said.

"That's the thing, Ditzy. My best ain't ever been good enough." Then he felt her lips again. It wasn't the urgent message from last week. Buck felt his living room become an elementary school playground as she kissed him. It was tender and simple and wandering. It was perfect. It was everything he needed. She held him there in that warm and wonderful place, and he felt sad when her lips pulled away. Buck would have done anything to stay within that moment forever.

"It's good enough for me, Buck." Ditzy took Buck's hands, playing with his fingers. Her eyelids fluttered like a shy schoolgirl. Buck couldn't believe how hard it was not to cry in front of her. She made him feel so precious and seen. He didn't deserve this.

"Ditzy...can I, uh..." Buck looked away, suddenly feeling extremely shy.

"Mm?"

"Can I kiss you a little bit more, Ditzy?" Buck choked out.

"Why're you so nervous all of a sudden? It's just me." Ditzy said. She kissed Buck's cheek, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Sorry."

"Buck, it's okay. Come here...close...close your eyes, Buck..." Ditzy's words drifted into a sigh as Buck kissed her back. Ditzy boldly slid her arms around his neck and pulled him slowly down with her. There was no tongue in her kiss; it was sensual, and deeply loving. Buck wondered if she practiced this. His lips tingled. He couldn't touch her now and ruin the moment. Don't grope. Just enjoy this.

Ditzy came up for air for a moment, then decided she wasn't finished. She giggled and pecked playfully at Buck's lips. Her hand wandered down to touch his arm. Buck cringed as Ditzy squeezed his bicep.

"Oh! Your arm! I'm sorry, Buck!" Ditzy said, sitting up. She let go of Buck, then, looking panicked.

"Naw, it's okay, Ditzy. It don't hurt that bad anymore." Buck said. He went in to kiss her again, but Ditzy looked at his arm with a quizzical expression.

"How? I thought it was broken?"

"Glimglam put a healing spell on it, but it's healing a lot faster than expected."

"What? Who? How?"

"It's...Ditzy, I need to tell you something." A man is honest. Get it out of the way. It was nice while it lasted, wasn't it?

"What is it, Buck?"

"Promise you won't freak out."

"Buck, it's me." Ditzy said. Her smile was naive. Buck took a deep breath.

"Ditzy, I'm magic. I got more magic in me than any one of the Rainbooms. It just sorta bubbles up out of me. That's why Adagio wanted me. She needs to absorb magic to survive. That's what the fight was about, and that's why that thing attacked us. It was my fault."

"What?" Ditzy looked at Buck like he just announced the presence of a tumor in his head.

"Glimglam thinks it comes from emotional contact. I'm dangerous, Ditzy, and I'm... I'm scared that I'm putting you in danger just by being here."

"What're you talking about?"

"I don't know what to do!" Buck reached for Ditzy's hand, but she scrambled away. The look in her eyes was like staring down a tidal wave. Ditzy was shaking, and as Buck rose, she backpedaled clumsily to the wall, almost tripping over Buck's footrest.

"Ditzy, please don't leave." Buck said.

"I don't...I don't know!" Ditzy's head spun with panic. Had Buck been magic this whole time? Is that why he was unlucky? What were his powers? What would he do if Ditzy made him mad? What would he do to her if she stayed? Ditzy couldn't know. Her breathing quickened as Buck stepped toward her, arms outstretched.

"Ditzy, please! You said you wouldn't look at me any differently!"

"That was different! How could you be...why...did you use magic on me to make me like you!?"

"What? No! How could you say that!?"

"I need to go. I need to think this through!" Ditzy murmured, more to herself than to Buck. Buck reached out for her, but Ditzy shrieked and slammed the door in his face.

And now, Buck was alone again. He kicked his footrest over and slumped limply down onto the couch.

He thought he'd run out of tears to cry. He was wrong, of course.

Harshwhinny strode along the lowest rooftops of Canterlot as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A yawn broke through the haze of noise coming from the streets below. With a casual skip, she flitted to another roof and stretched her arms. She was far from satisfied.

A short hop. A drop. A slide down a fire escape ladder. Her heels clacked along the pavement again. It was good to stretch her legs, at least. Lounging around never suited her well. She couldn't work well inside of a box. She needed to move to think clearly. A shudder. The spring night was surprisingly cold.

Her keys jingled in the lock on the numbered door. She'd made it back to the dorm. Another yawn shook her as she entered the darkened room. She rubbed her stiff neck. Holding this posture all day was exhausting. The clock ticked. The jacket came off first. Just ahead of it on the floor fell the shirt. The pants. The underwear. She stepped out of her shoes.

She stood before the mirror. She coughed. Perhaps it wasn't the posture. She twisted her neck until she felt a satisfying pop. By then, it had gone a full 180 degrees. Perhaps it was the form itself.

"This sagging, uppity body just doesn't suit me." The impostor said. Harshwhinny's voice had gotten lost somewhere.

"Maybe that's why it didn't work...no, it's not just that." Another miscalculation. Another tiny failure.

"He isn't the base whore I thought he was. He should have fallen in love, but he turned the tables...at first." A smirk. Harshwhinny's face smiled uncomfortably wide, to the point where the mouth began to look out of place beneath her permanently irate glare. The impostor touched just below Harshwhinny's navel. Its body was cold, but down there, it was warm. It was still full.

"I didn't get exactly what I wanted...but I learned. The boy isn't so easy after all...but he can be made to heel. All it takes is a bit of fear." Harshwhinny's face disappeared in a flash of green light, replaced with the one in the photos ringing the mirror.

"Isn't that right, Adagio Dazzle?"

Author's Note

We're in the second act emotional low point of the story, but I still feel the need to brace myself for comments asking "Who hurt you?".

Song Review: Easy Lover is about two friends discussing a man-eater, who one has dated and the other is infatuated with. It's a warning not to get tangled up with someone who will use and exploit you and then leave you for broke. Buck has fallen for this trap once during the narrative already, and he's about to fall into it again, but there's no one to warn him. He's shut off. Ironically, the rumors surrounding Buck probably sound a lot like the lyrics to Easy Lover, but even as he sells his body, he shows a tenderness that catches his client off-guard.