Rainbow Dash REALLY Wants to Fuck In Inappropriate Places!

by B_25

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Rainbow Dash, Sex
Length: 2588

Why are Rainbow and Spike in a fancy restaurant? Are they friends... more than friends... or in a place in-between? Does a story have to make sense in order for it to be read? What is the worth of something typed against a dying laptop battery?

Why are Rainbow and Spike in a fancy restaurant? Are they friends... more than friends... or in a place in-between? Does a story have to make sense in order for it to be read? What is the worth of something typed against a dying laptop battery?

[Cover by Welost!]

Published 2021-12-31 06:30:03 UTC
Last updated 2021-12-31 06:30:03 UTC

8% Left

Rainbow Dash REALLY Wants to Fuck in Very Inappropriate Places!
B_25

Is there anything more terrifying than starting a story? That horrible moment when you transition from an enjoyable idea to the halt of misery that comes from actually having to write it? No self-consciousness exists during the playing of daydreams and fantasies—regardless of their qualities.

The characters speak naturally and with their proper voices; the settings are either vivid, or you do not care that a scene is just dialogue floating in an abyss. Quality does not matter when you are looking to be immersed in something other than boredom. Everything starts to play and click, sometimes a rewind to fix a spot or try a different route. The whole process is enjoyable. For you get to experience it like a movie, like a receiver, without any testing or proving of skill.

Then you're set to write about all that you enjoyable watching and tweaking, and suddenly, a pause consumes you. It causes you to do other things, to spend time refreshing pages that have not changed. Opening the blank page is hard enough; actually writing something becomes a new impossibility.

The reader may be confused by the above paragraphs for several reasons. Perhaps they are hoping to be stimulated by two characters doing inappropriate acts in inappropriate places (which is to say that, in appropriate places, the acts then become appropriate.)

Maybe the reader is looking to have more than their eyes and mind simulated, and fingers or a sock hang limply.

The third and the most likely kind of reader is here to see exactly what this story will be about. How it will go. They, too, will be confused by this opening, and perhaps none will have even read this line.

The point of this opening is the hope that there is a point to this opening. The writer is equal to a reader in a bookstore that has selected a novel at chance. They open it up and, through next series of lines, seek for something to happen that causes them to deem that this story is worth adding to the collection.

The writer has no clue what lines are to follow. If all this writing will add to a worthy point of some sort to make the whole endeavour, of writing and reading these words, worthwhile. Either a fist is pumped or shoulders are shrugged.

We are on this confusing journey together.

This story has nothing more to it than a title.

And now, folks, we will see where that titles leads.

Spike did his best to ignore the hoof that brushed against his foot, for Rainbow Dash looked away while she did it, looking out the window to the sweep of the city beyond them. It was a slow caress of blue furs sweeping across his scales.

A daintily swing of a leg that amounted to nothing more than that.

They sat at a white clothed tabled with a candle fixed to its center. Rainbow, looking out the window still, glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. With a smirk, she looked outside and, with a flex of her wing, gave a little flap.

The candle went out.

Spike harshly whispered under his breath. “Rainbow!”

Her head turned more toward him, though an eye remained glued to the glass. She gave a knowing, confused expression, with a smile and a chuckle and a return to the view. Spike huffed. Leaning forward, he spit a flame, burning the candle in a green light.

Seconds later, a hum appeared, and stallion in a vest stood to his right.

“Excuse me, sir,” the waiter began as his wings flexed through the holes of his attire, one that flapped lightly, another holding a plastic lighter; the green flame went out, and the standard issue orange returned. “We insist on no changes to the lighting. It ruins the atmosphere for the rest of our guests.”

Spike opened his mouth to defend himself, to accuse the true perpetrator, to clear his name of the crime and regain standing with the ones that could ruin the food to come. But Rainbow was still looking out the window with a hoof propped against her cheek. She didn't even lazily check to see the commotion.

“I'm sorry.” Spike placed a claw on his chest and bowed. “My mistake.”

The waiter paused as if to say please ensure it does not repeat, but cantered away instead, as a hoof sneaked between the dragon's thighs. They shot open in a spread—smacking the table and clinking the glasses atop it. Others glanced over, and Spike nervously chuckled, sinking into himself as the faces turned away.

He glared at Rainbow Dash. “What are you doing?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you doing?”

Her head turned to him, but her eyes locked to a distant tower, and she fixated on that. With his legs open, her leg stretched between his thighs, and her hoof rubbed into his crotch. His legs shut, locking the hoof there. It stroked him harder within the confined space.

“R-Rainbow!”

She looked at him properly this time. “Huh?”

“What are you doing?!”

“Eh. Sitting here. Lookin' out this window.” Rainbow returned to looking out that window. “Always thought I'd end up in Manehatten somehow. Everything is quick and busy. It's loaded with anything you could ever want. But I never really settled here. Just never did the trick for me—not even enough to spend an odd week off.”

Her hoof found a spread in his scales, a place that tingled as it open, tickling pleasure inward. He felt something that wasn't supposed to be felt when one was out and about. Spike's mind squished that input.

“I meant with your leg.”

“What's wrong with it?”

“It's between mine.”

“You feeling okay?”

“Not with your leg there!”

“But it's not there.”

“Yes, it is!”

“You sure you didn't have too much to drink?”

“I ordered water!”

“Maybe they brought you the wrong glass?”

“Quit playing with me!”

“In what way?”

“Both ways!”

Rainbow chuckled and smiled. Smiled in a way that melted any anger she could ever raise in someone. Beautiful. Serene. Dashing. A peek of the angel inside the devil. Spike blushed as everything within him warmed. He was in love. But he would never have the courage to confess.

“Then you'll have to open your legs, champ.”

Spike wanted to crack a joke, but knew no joke would restore his honour. His legs open, and her hoof trailed across his thighs, retreating outward. Rainbow sat normally and looked out the window. Then her wing flapped a breeze, and the candle extinguished its flame.

“R-Rainbow!”

Staring at the city, she stuck out her tongue from the corner of her mouth.

Spike growled.

And then there was another hum.

“Sir,” the waiter began as he leaned over the table, relighting the stick. “Are you finding yourself in some difficulty of sorts?”

“N-No, I—“

“We are rather busy at this establishment,” the waiter went on as he stood proper again. “Certainly too busy for us to be playing games. If you would be so kind, could you find another way to impress your date?”

“She's not my...”

The waiter strolled away.

And a hoof stomped his foot. Spike jerked up in his chair and looked down to the mare across from him. Rainbow's sidelong glare twitched fear in him. It was her first genuine look of the night. “I'm not your what?”

Was this a trap? It had felt like a trap.

No answer allowed him to win.

“You're not my marefriend.”

Her snout flared. “You saying I ain't a mare?”

“No!”

“Then you're sayin' I ain't your friend?”

“Of course not!

“So I'm your marefriend, then.”

“No, you're not!”

“We gonna repeat the last two questions?”

Spike deflated once her smile appeared. Rainbow didn't look away this time. Was this a test? A teasing for him to confess? He slumped and looked down at his drink. Their plates of food had yet to come. No distraction of eating could save him now. Looking around, he saw the surrounding tables were all filled, but the traffic between them was light. Low service tonight.

Did she already know? She teased him too much for that to not be the case. Did she feel something back? It felt odd, wrong even, for a bold mare like her to be interested in a weak dragon like him. But they were here, and they were like this.

Would she toy him along only to put him down?

Rainbow would never do that to a friend.

“I'm bored.”

Spike blinked. Looking across the table, he saw that the peagus had slumped in her seat, forelegs crossed, glancing from side to side. He slumped. She'd returned to being a child again. He sighed. “Then, maybe, you should have picked better company.”

“Nobody else indulges me like you do.”

“Twilight must be so proud that I grew up to be an enabler.”

Rainbow continued to slump in her chair until she slid underneath the table. Spike's brows knitted as he peered downward. The cloth ruffled as something crawled between his legs. Glaring around him, he saw that the coast was clear, and he lowered his head to his glass.

“Rainbow,” he started. “What are you doing down there?”

Something wiggled between his thighs. “Finding myself some fun.”

Then something stroked his crotch. His knees bolted upward and crashed into the underside of the table, clattering glasses. Warmth and hardness intermixed at the center of his being, growing and extending into a soft, solid shape. Like a surprise ejection, his dick sprung out, flopping into the open.

His mouth opened as thousand things passed through his mind and only breath escaped over his tongue. Anger followed by an apology followed by shame. Blame to her then himself then to her. She was below the table, with his dick, which she had actively brought it. Somehow, it all still felt like his fault.

“R-Rainbow! I... you... tch, g-get out from down there.”

A voice whispered through the wood as a foreleg hooked around his cock. “Nuh-huh.”

“Rainbow, seriously!”

“You said I'm not your marefriend,” the breath from her words washed and tickled his cock with its mist. Her furs brushed up his head as she released spittle over it. “Yet this thing seems like it wants to hang with me. What do you make of that, big guy?”

Spike shouted in a whisper through the cloth. “That a mare on the street paid twenty bits could get the same reaction!”

“Oh? But I don't think your friend would come out as easily.”

Her lips kissed his tip, and his dick flicked from the impact, sliding into the tightness of her muzzle. Rainbow moaned deliciously and Spike beat a fist on the table. The knock rattled the glasses, and many more glanced over to see a claw covering his face.

Spike's eyes clenched shut as his face warmed. He felt naked, even though all were, with his dick out from its sheath. The flick of Rainbow's hoof tucking mane behind her ear had touched his thigh. She descended his length, compressing it into the velvet sponginess of her throat.

“Another issue, sir?”

Spike curled his claw and shook his head. “None. None whatsoever.”

“I see the candle has survived you thus far,” that smug stallion must have been glancing around for show. “But the same cannot be said of your date. I must let you know that, once a dish has been ordered, it cannot be cancelled or refunded.”

Spike's fangs tore into his bottom lip. “She's still here.”

“In the bathroom?”

“Is it any of your concern?”

“Very well.”

The waiter left, and Rainbow let up, releasing to Spike's tip before falling again. She found a sort of tempo in raising and falling, bobbing, no doubt delighting in the way Spike's legs opened and closed, wrestling all over the place to deal with the pleasure inflicted.

He whispered to her, “I''m going to finish if you're not careful.”

She stopped sucking his cock for a second. “Duh.” Vines of drool hung from her lips as she spoke. Then her eyes closed as she dove back in. His cock throbbed in her mouth, massaged atop the waterbed of her tongue. She deepened the effect, taking him into the passage of her throat. Feeling the soft clumps roll over and squeeze him tightly.

His rump wiggled on the wooden chair and the legs rose and dropped on the ground. He nearly tipped over his his claws dropped to the seat to grip it. Cracks broke across the wood as the heat reach its supreme. Without warning, his cock burned with warm milk, an internal, pleasant tickle that expanded across his joy.

The temperature shot in ropes that fired deeper into the equine's throat. Rainbow drank him greedily as he shifted in place, twisting to milk the final throes of pleasure, breathing heavier than he should as she sat here. Rainbow remained on him for the full while, enjoying the heat, the musk, the sensation of being pressed to his most personal spot.

She drank the last of his seed and slowly pulled herself free. She licked him, leaving him clean, no excess left when her lips left him. Seconds passed before the mare crawled back into her seat. Rainbow absentmindedly wiped a hoof across her lips.

Then looked out the window.

“Rainbow.”

She hummed while looking out the window.

“Why did you...”

She shrugged. “Seemed faster than asking for a refill.”

His eyes passed to her glass. It was still full of lavender wine. Then his eyes set back onto her. It clicked then, for him, on why he loved Rainbow Dash. Logic, he could get with Twilight Sparkle. An honest rodeo could be had with Applejack. But it was only the mare in front of him now that he could never predict. That she would always cause trouble for him. That she would always do things just to do things.

It went against every notion of love he had been raised on; it defied every standard he should look for in a mare. There would always be chaos around her, either found or invented. She would push him in ways he would never wind up in otherwise.

Anyone else would have been a better candidate.

And yet...

“Rainbow?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you be my marefriend.”

“Hmm.” Rainbow glanced at him, pushed her lips to the side, and resumed staring out the glass. “I'll have to think about it.” But then there was a thud, and she glanced back in surprise, seeing the dragon laid back, slumped, in his seat... and he was still sliding. “What are you doing?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

And then Spike slid underneath the table.

So what is the moral of the story? The moral of the story is that there is no moral to the story.

This fic was written in two sittings. The first was more inspired; the second was forced to type against a dying laptop battery. Nothing about this story can be edited or changed for only ten percent of life remains. Writers can only type as far as the next line will permit. It is something plucked from nothing, and we can only hope that, once it is typed, that it will somehow make sense.

And to be okay if it does not.

Don't worry.

I didn't understand any of this, either.