Whiteout

Flurry Heart, Princess of the Crystal Empire, heir apparent to the throne transparent, was not having the best Summer Solstice Eve ever.

The worst part of it was, it wasn’t like she’d had a bad Summer Solstice Eve either. For the most part, everything had gone swimmingly: the festival during the day, the parade in the afternoon, even the weird early dinner that was supposed to precede a long night of partying had all gone off without a hitch.

But that just made the small things—a spilled drink here, a broken shoe heel there—all the more aggravating, because it wasn’t enough for today to be good. Selfishly, vainly, she’d wanted it to be flawless, and the fact that such tiny flaws were actually bugging her was worse than if the whole day had been a total disaster.

And now, of all things, it was a little lock of rebellious mane hair refusing to stay where she wanted it that was fraying her nerves beyond all reason. It should’ve been simple to comb out, or at least tamp down with a spritz of product and a little cannon grease, but she’d been at it for ten minutes now, and if anything it had just gotten worse—sticking straight out from her temple in a frizzy, infuriating lump.

Stars, she couldn’t go out looking like this, like she’d just rolled out of bed and didn’t care how un-Princessly she appeared. Not with so many ponies watching her—them. Not with this being their first…

“Flurry? You in here?”

Flurry’s shoulders twitched, and her heart skipped a beat. It just about always did when she heard his voice, even after months of hearing it every day, like she was a nervous little filly trying to hide all her little flaws behind painted-on smiles and clever turns of phrase.

Just as quickly, though, she calmed down—remembered who she was, and repeated it to herself until she believed it: a Princess, dammit. She was fine. Everything was fine. And the proof of that was standing behind her now, smiling at her in her guest suite’s vanity mirror, eyes sparkling at the sight of her.

“Bad hair day?” Pound said, still smirking. Before Flurry could answer, he licked the edge of his hoof and rubbed it over the unruly bit of mane she’d been struggling with, smoothing it down with hardly any effort.

Flurry sighed. Of course she’d been overthinking it, just like she always did. And of course today didn’t need to be made perfect by outfits or hairdos or fancy receptions, because it was already perfect from the moment she’d woken up that morning, with his hooves wrapped around her and his breath tickling the back of her neck.

“Thank you,” Flurry muttered, chuckling to and at herself as she leaned into Pound’s touch. “I’m a mess.”

“You’re a very pretty mess,” Pound said, matting down another part of her mane with a kiss. “All the other messes are super jealous.”

Flurry grinned, and giggled, and swiveled in her seat so Pound’s next kiss would land on her lips. “I just got this idea in my head, y’know?” she told him. “Our first Celebration together, all magical and perfect… I don’t know. I’m being silly.”

Pound grinned back at her. “You know what I’m gonna say.”

“That I’m already perfect?”

He kissed her again, a quick peck that spawned butterflies in Flurry’s stomach. “That I love being silly with you.”

Speaking of un-Princessly behavior, it would have been very improper for Flurry to melt into a puddle right now, squealing like a foal at a boy-band concert. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t think really hard about doing it, and about dragging Pound down to the floor with her so he could do whatever he wanted with her squishy lovestruck remains.

“Come on,” Pound said, breaking her reverie with a nudge on her shoulder. “Come with me.”

“To where?” Flurry asked as she allowed herself to be gently pulled onto her hooves. “Is the party starting?”

“Nah, not for another hour-ish,” Pound replied. “Just need your help with something real quick.”

Flurry had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but she was more than fine following Pound to wherever he felt like explaining it. Which, it turned out, wasn’t inside Ponyville Castle or even anywhere in town, though they did stop briefly to chat with his parents as they finished setting up for the town's overnight festivities.

For most of her life, she’d only known the two of them conceptually, the way a foal was distantly aware that her friends had parents and those parents presumably had lives outside of cameo appearances during playdates. By now, though, she’d gotten to know them as fellow adults, and it turned out they were great fun to hang out with, spoiled her like a daughter whenever she and Pound stopped by, and deserved at least some of the credit for where they all were today.

She hadn’t been sure what Pound would choose on that night almost a year ago, the Twentieth Anniversary plus one day of Twilight’s School of Friendship opening. Even after they confessed to each other, after she was finally honest with him about what she wanted and found out he wanted it too, she had still wondered whether he’d be okay with leaving home—whether what they wanted could work with hundreds of miles between them.

According to Pound, his mother had answered his version of that question with a smile and a gentle tone: “Dearie, if you don’t go with that girl and live the life you want without even thinking about whether we can manage one silly little shop without you, I will take this rolling pin here and I will lovingly, passionately beat you to death with it.” And now, thanks to her son heeding her advice, the Cake family had two silly little shops—the original in Ponyville, and a satellite location in the Crystal Empire run by a fastidiously hard-working pegasus, who served a dizzying array of pastries during the day and had a two-month waiting list for dinner reservations at night.

But for all the hours he worked and eager customers he served, Pound always had time for the mare he’d left home for. If Flurry wanted to hit the town, he’d leave the restaurant early and join her, mane still damp from the shower he’d rushed through to rinse the sweat and spices off his face. If she was away on royal business, he’d send her a hoof-written note by magic every night before bed—sometimes a letter, sometimes just a doodled smile, and always infused with his natural earthy scent. And when neither of them had things to do, he’d just be with her, reading a book with his shoulder pressed to hers or dozing on a loveseat with her head in his lap.

There was no other way to put it—he was perfect. So much so that Flurry had to remind herself sometimes that this wasn’t all just a fortunate accident, that he really loved her and she deserved his love. Believing that got easier and easier with each passing day, and she loved him more and more because of it.

All that said, though, he could’ve at least told her where he was taking her, and why. Even after he took to the sky, leading her out of Ponyville and into the rolling fields surrounding it, he stayed completely silent, his indecipherable smile her only clue about his intentions.

When they landed on a hilltop about half a mile out from the town limits, he still didn’t say anything. Instead, he just looked at her expectantly, still smiling, like she was supposed to already know why they’d stopped here.

“What…” Flurry began to ask—and then she saw it.

It wasn’t anything big, just a comfy-looking blanket spread out under a poplar tree and holding a picnic basket full of baked treats and snacks. Nevertheless, her heart crept into her throat, and her eyes began to sting. She knew exactly why they’d stopped here—exactly where they were.

“I don’t know if it’s the exact right spot,” Pound said, seeming to take her silence as hesitance. “After a decade, y’know, all the hills around here kinda look alike. But it’s pretty close, at least. And we’ll have a great view of the fireworks later, if we want to come back and–”

Flurry threw her hooves around his neck and kissed him—madly, messily, like she wanted to make up for a hundred more they should’ve had right here at this spot. He kissed her back—gently, tenderly, just like he had the first time they’d been here all those years ago, when he’d set off an explosion inside her a million times bigger than the ones in the sky above them.

“This is incredible,” she whispered once she found the strength to pull away. “You’re incredible.”

“And you,” he murmured back, nuzzling his nose against hers, “are perfect.”

Caught halfway between swooning and sobbing, Flurry chose neither and just kissed Pound again, hoof caressing his chin, chest pressed into his. The next time she pulled away, she let her head fall beneath his, cuddling into his neck with a contented sigh. This day had gone perfectly after all.

“If you asked me to marry you right now, I’d say yes,” she mumbled idly, chuckling a bit at how much she meant it. Pound chuckled too—but in an odd way, like the sound had gotten stuck in his throat briefly on its way out. She leaned back and looked at him. He gave her a truly baffling look back: crestfallen and thrilled and amused all at once. Was something wrong? Was it something she’d…

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

“Um… well…” Pound mumbled, laughing to himself as his cheeks began to go pink. Flurry beat him to the punch, flushing scarlet in seconds as her hoof clapped over her mouth.

“Shit,” she said—trying not to laugh, or scream, or shake herself to pieces from irrepressible glee. “I messed it up.”

“No, you didn’t mess it…” Pound tried to say, chewing on his lip so he could get the words past the grin split across his face. “Kinda expected a different order to things, but…”

“No-no-no, let’s… let’s do this right.” Flurry backed onto the blanket and sat down, taking deliberate deep breaths, dramatically composing herself like an actress preparing for a scene. “Okay,” she told Pound once she was situated. “I’m sitting here, amazed by your romantic gesture, totally clueless. Go.”

“Okay,” Pound replied. He moved to stand before her, shoulders squared, still trembling a bit. “So…”

They stared at each other for a moment. Flurry giggled first, and Pound broke right after her. “I had a bit of a speech planned,” he informed her sheepishly.

She leaned forward on her haunches and pecked him on the lips, offering as much silent encouragement as she could with the look in her shining eyes. “Go ahead,” she whispered as she sat back down, her gaze never leaving his. He sighed, bent a more serious expression onto his face, and said what he wanted to say.

“I wanted to bring you out here because… because of what this place meant to me. Because, for a long time, it represented something I wanted but didn’t think I’d ever have. That I wasn’t sure I deserved to have.”

He smiled at her, growing more confident as he got going with what was clearly a well-practiced spiel. Flurry let him continue, drinking in every word, trying to commit every sensation of this moment to the deepest parts of her memory.

“I spent so long stuck here, in this idea of you that wasn’t real, because I thought I could learn to live with it if I just ignored how I felt long enough. And I wasted so much time, time I could’ve spent with you, being happier than I ever thought I could be, because I followed my fear instead of my heart.”

He sat on the blanket in front of her and took her hoof in his. With his other forehoof, he dug into the picnic basket, extracting a small velvet-lined box from under a pile of fluffy-looking rolls.

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said, blinking away tears, glowing inside and out. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and make every new moment with you better than all the ones we missed.”

He opened the box. A gossamer-thin silver bracelet lay inside, garnished with a blue-and-gray piece of labradorite fashioned into a miniature heart. “Flurry Heart,” he said simply, “will you marry me?”

For just a moment, Flurry thought about saying something snarky like “I’ll have to think about it.” She thought much, much better of it.

“Yes,” she told Pound. “Yes.”

Finally, he stopped holding back. A grin split his face, and a giddy chuckle slipped out of him as he fastened the bracelet around Flurry’s proffered hoof. It fit perfectly, and looked absolutely stunning—but it could’ve been a mud-crusted rock tied to a piece of twine, and her answer would’ve been exactly the same.

She looked up at him, and only realized when she saw tears beading in his eyes that she already had tracks running down both her cheeks. And she’d thought she looked like a mess before.

Well, as long as her makeup was already ruined…

She grabbed Pound by the shoulders and pulled him onto the blanket with her, kissing every inch of him she could reach, pressing him closer and closer until she could feel his heart hammering against hers. They rolled sideways, legs entangled, faces wet with who could tell what, and then Flurry pushed herself on top of him, straddling him at the waist, guiding his hooves with hers so he touched every part of her—her wings, her back, her withers, all the way to her…

“Uh… Flurry?” Pound grunted, speaking in whatever words he could sneak past her lips. His hooves had settled on her ass, squeezing gently as she ground herself atop his stiffening stallionhood. “We’re… it’s a little public here.”

Flurry trapped his bottom lip between her teeth, and tugged on it gently before sitting up to stare luridly down at Pound—at his sharp chin, and his broad chest, and every other delicious part of him. “It’s either this,” she told him, panting for breath, “or I jump you in town on the way back to our room.”

He glanced around at the deserted hills surrounding them—and then his eyes darted back towards her twitching lower half. “This is better,” he said with a nod and another squeeze.

“Much better,” Flurry added, just before Pound hooked his hoof around her neck and pulled her down on top of him again, repositioning his hips in the same motion. Instead of being awkwardly trapped beneath them, Pound’s cock now stood straight up behind Flurry’s rump, rubbing against her folds, silently asking to be invited inside. She tensed her flanks, kneaded him between her stifles, begged without words for Pound—for her fiancé—to have his way with the mare he’d just promised to marry.

And he did, in a way. He rolled them over again and slammed her onto her back—not roughly, but firmly, in just the way he knew she liked. He kissed her once on the lips, then on the neck, nipping at the soft skin under her chin. From there, he gradually moved down her body, tracing his path with touches of his tips and tongue, and finally reached her legs, which he peeled apart so he could bury his muzzle between them.

Flurry had really thought this would go a bit differently. She’d expected him to loom over her, his cock prodding against her nose, ordering her with a twitch of his eyebrow to do what she did best—and she would’ve loved to do just that, as good as she’d ever given it, until his eyes rolled back in his head and his seed spilled down her throat and dribbled down her chin.

But if he preferred this instead—lavishing her lips with broad swipes of his tongue, soaking her opening with saliva and her own slick arousal, teasing and tantalizing her until she felt like fireworks were exploding in every part of her at once—that was fine too. More than fine. Holy shit, it was about the finest thing she could imagine.

Except for one thing, that is. Something she wanted even more and, as much she loved him for his efforts, wasn’t going to wait for any longer.

“Pound…” she sighed, squeezing his head gently with her thighs to get his attention. He glanced up, lips still pressed against her pussy, tongue flicking over her clit and sending little jolts of euphoria up her spine. “Mmmfph… Pound…”

It took him a few seconds, but he eventually picked up on the specific flavor of yearning baked into her gaze. He surfaced from beneath her and crawled up her body at a leisurely pace, drinking her in with his eyes, objectifying her in a way that made her feel less like a Princess and more like an unconquerable goddess.

Finally, his eyes were level with hers, and his lips—still damp with her essence—were inside kissing range. She pressed her muzzle to his, took his face in her hooves, spread her legs and hooked her hocks around his back.

“Take me…” she whispered to the stallion she loved. “Make me yours…”

And her husband-to-be obeyed.

He slipped inside her slowly, decadently, opening her up inch by inch as his breath escaped him in a quiet hiss and her grip tightened around his neck. When he bottomed out, stretching her a little more with every thump of his pulse through his length, he stayed there for a moment, perfectly still, eyes shut as she shuddered under him.

Pound withdrew, keeping the same steady pace, pulling a gasp out of Flurry as his shaft tugged exquisitely on her innermost depths—and then he plunged back in, firmly and fully, forcing a moan from her lungs and a flash of ecstasy through her brain. He clutched at her as his hips moved faster, and she held him just as tightly as the pleasure inside her ramped up—as her skin tingled and her jaw quivered, and she met his eyes with elation flowing through her.

“Did you think about this?” she asked him, a shaky squeak the most audible tone she could manage. “For all those years? Doing this with me, right here?”

Pound hilted himself inside her, his face tensing as the head of his cock pressed against the deepest part of her. “Uh-huh…” he sighed.

Flurry sighed too, and smiled as she kissed him. “Me too,” she said—and she meant it, and she knew he did too, and it just made everything feel that much impossibly better.

He balanced himself on his haunches, took her hind legs in his hooves, angled his hips upwards and drove into her with steady, powerful strokes. She tried to participate, to match his blissful movements with her own, but there was little she could do from this position but lie back and enjoy it. And did she ever enjoy it—did she ever relish the incomparable feeling of being filled, completed, taken by someone she trusted without inhibition, who she would do anything for so long as it made him flush and grunt with satisfaction, while she squealed and shook right alongside him.

After a minute or so, she propped herself up on trembling hooves, kissed him and beckoned with her head until she guided him off her and onto his back, his cock standing straight up and glistening with her fluids. She climbed on top of him, pausing on her way up to wrap her lips around his bulging head and suckle until he groaned in delight, then straddled him and took him inside her again, caressing him with her thighs and hooves and inner walls, so sensitive now that the tiny internal motion almost knocked her off him completely.

He grabbed her by the flanks, tried to thrust upwards—and she pushed him down into the blanket, firmly but gently, saying with her eyes and smile and sweat-soaked body that it was her turn to lead. And she did—arching her back and rotating her hips, rising to the very top of his cock with each stroke before slamming herself back down, stars bursting behind her eyes with every damp slap of her thighs against his.

Pound wrapped his hooves around her own, still braced against his chest so she had leverage for every downward thrust. He trusted her too. He wanted her—screamed it with the lust in his gaze and the love in his tender touch, and the pretty little jewelry he’d given her that she’d already decided never to take off.

That alone was worth more than any material plaything or carnal sensation. It had kept her going through months of gossip among the Crystallian nobility and the club-going citizenry, all the whispers about how this relationship would never last and that poor Equestrian country boy had no idea what he was in for. It had silenced the loudest voice of them all: the one inside her head, so sure all those other ponies were right about her, so unwilling to let her feel or act or be good because the rumors and jokes would fly anyway no matter how hard she tried to prove them wrong.

And they surely would even with that bracelet on her hoof, even after her mom screamed with joy and her dad beamed with pride and they both put on the biggest and gaudiest royal wedding any organized society had ever seen. Ponies would still talk. Ponies would still look at her and see a spoiled, self-interested, sacrilegiously horny brat, even as she threw herself into public work with Pound by her side, even as every smile they put on the face of a hungry pony or sick foal planted an even bigger grin on her own.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered besides the fact that he was hers and she was his, and being with him—being the best version of herself that he had never stopped seeing in her—was the only life she ever wanted to have.

“Flurry…” Pound hissed, a hint of urgency in his tone. “Hah… baby…”

She knew that tone—treasured every single time she coaxed it out of him. “You close?” she whispered down to him. He nodded, his bottom lip clamped in his teeth. She was pretty close herself, and she knew just how to push them both over the edge.

Flurry raised her hips until Pound’s cock slipped out of her completely, twitching and flaring with nearly fulfilled need. She backed off of him and turned around, facing the horizon and the sunset starting beyond it, beckoning him forward with a smirk and an involuntary wink of her lower lips. He leered at her hungrily, mounted her powerfully, buried himself back inside her in one overwhelming stroke and kept going with staccato thrusts that wiped every feeling from Flurry’s mind except raw and pure desire.

“Inside…” she whined, every nerve aflame, the first pulses of a rapturous peak growing in her core. “Cum inside me.”

Pound clutched at her chest, pressed her muzzle into her neck, kissed and licked and bit down and growled—and then shuddered, and flared, and hilted inside her as slick, spine-tingling warmth blossomed within her. She pushed back into him, submerged herself in the sensation, let the spread of his seed supercharge the pulsing in her gut, until…

Flurry shivered, and seized up, and wantonly moaned, suffused in tingling warmth that surged white-hot and wild from the tip of her tail to the glowing point of her horn. And for every heart-stopping second, Pound—her husband—was right there with her, holding her tightly through every thrum and throb of their magical mutual climax.

As orgasm gave way to afterglow, Flurry guided both of them down onto the blanket and flopped onto her side, Pound snuggling up behind her as his cock softened and slipped out—and suddenly, a goofy giggle bubbled out of her. Husband. She was gonna get married. The infamous Princess Flurry Heart would soon be a doting housewife… or castle-wife? Didn’t have the same ring to it. Or anywhere close to the right vibe. She could dote with the best of them, but cooking was definitely best left to a professional. Like the kind she was about to marry.

She giggled again as she turned to face Pound, who gave her a blissed-out smile and a soft kiss on the forehead. “I lo–”

“I love you,” Flurry said, right as she realized Pound was already talking. His smile widened as he chuckled.

“You keep interrupting me!” he murmured, stroking her cheek.

“Sorry! Sorry…”

He slid her hoof down her side, hugged her, and kissed her again. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” Flurry whispered back.

They lied there together for a few more minutes, warmed by the setting sun. Finally, Flurry remembered what sunset actually meant.

“We should go get ready,” she mumbled into Pound’s chest. “For the Celebration thing.”

“Mm-hmm,” Pound agreed. He didn’t move. Neither did she.

“Okay, seriously,” Flurry said after another minute or two, reluctantly sitting up. “They’re gonna send a search party or something.”

“That’d probably be bad,” Pound acknowledged. He still didn’t get up, but he did prop his hooves behind his head and watch Flurry as she did, and accepted one of the wet wipes she found in the picnic basket.

“You coming?” she asked once she’d cleaned herself up. He cocked his eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“Better get used to it,” he said, grinning impishly as he got to his hooves and nudged her on the shoulder. “You just got a lifetime subscription to much worse jokes than that.”

Flurry gamely tried to pretend that sounded exhausting—but honestly, it didn’t. Pound could be really cute when he acted dumb. She nudged him back, flared her wings, and took to the sky, with the idiot love of her life right by her side.

They met the search party right as they were organizing patrols at the edge of town. Both their moms were leading the crowd. They didn’t scream when they saw the bracelet, but the mutual hugging and sobbing more or less made up for it.