Author's Note
Minimal spoilers for Rider on the Storm in this chapter.
Takes place during Chapter 5 - Vulgar Display of Power. Reading up to that chapter is recommended, but not required.
Salt in the Wounds
SLAM
Tempest bucked the entrance hall door open hard enough to break both the door and the doorframe, the door hanging off of the wall by its bottom hinge for a beat before the screws pull out of the wall and it collapses to the ground. Your very purple and very pissed off guest stomps her way in, looking like she’d just gotten out of the shower herself. All she had on was a fresh bodysuit, but she was cratering the ground with every stomp even without her horseshoes.
Tempest wasn’t even trying to hide how steaming mad she still was. Gone was the cloaked dislike for you, masked by her cool glare. This time, she was glaring at you with undisguised hostility, teeth bared and ears pinned back.
That might have been intimidating for ponies, but it remained the cutest thing in the known universe for lil’ ol’ you.
“Oh hey girl, what’s up?” you chirp. “Can I getcha somethin’ to drink?”
“Shut up,” she hisses. “Just shut up!”
“D’aww, now why would I do that?”
“We aren’t finished,” she growls. “Not even close!”
She continues her march of doom towards you with every intention of trying to kick your ass again. Pretty impressive honestly, seeing so much fight left in her! Your smile adopts a dangerous edge, both of your hands coming out and extending in a welcoming gesture, beer still in hand.
“Ho? Mukattekuru no ka? Nigezu ni kono NONNY ni chikazuitekuru no ka?”
“Don’t bother begging for mercy. You’ll have to attend the invasion in a wheelchair once I’m through with you!”
“Ho hoh! Deha jūbun chikazuku ga yoi!”
That’s one menacing step for man. And one very angry snort for marekind.
ゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴゴ
Step by step, the two of you approach one another, neither one of you having any intention of backing down from the gauntlet she’d just thrown right onto your floor. Your eyes stay nice and locked onto hers, but you can already tell from the not-so-slight tell in her gait that she was still recovering from your little hoe-down from earlier. You, however, had the advantage of a nice, long soak in your Call of Duty regen bath over her, meaning that your exhaustion level was very much not mutual anymore. Not that she knew that.
As you close in to about two or three paces, she springs forward to deliver a jab with a foreleg. But it wasn’t as fast as you knew it could be, and with a swift palm deflection courtesy of your free hand, you shift quickly into a knee strike to her barrel that sends her tumbling off to the side with a pained grunt.
“Moroi, moroi!” you cackle, shifting down and out of weeaboo mode as you crack your beer open and take a swig. “Girl, I admire your gumption, I really do. But you really oughta just relax and take a load off!”
She chooses to respond by scrambling to her hooves and leaping back at you with a snarl. With a resigned little sigh and a matching eye roll, you nevertheless keep your smirk intact as you toss your crowler up into the air. The move successfully draws her eyes off of you, and by the time she realizes her mistake, you’ve already grabbed her fetlocks and transferred her forward momentum into swinging her around in a circle a couple of times until you let her go at just the right time, sending her flying straight towards the door to your bedroom. She hits it with another grunt, damaging it in the process, but this time she lands back on her hooves. And upon seeing you effortlessly catch the beer you’d just tossed up without even looking, she snorts with unrestrained anger and continues to press her attack, pawing briefly at the ground before breaking into a charge. Only this time, with her horn sparking up.
The display worried you for a bit, until you saw the magic charge she’d built up suddenly fizzle out with firework-like pop, causing her bite back a more high-pitched and painful grunt as she winces from more pain than what you’d just laid on her, stumbling mid-charge and coming to a brief halt to clutch her head.
Huh. Guess her magic doesn’t spring back nearly as fast as her body when it’s pushed to the limit, huh? Well, that’s both good and bad. On the good, it means that, in theory, you shouldn’t need to worry about neutralizing or suppressing it. You weren’t wearing any armour, after all, and having your... nature revealed this early would be a very bad play, indeed. But on the flipside, she’s just stubborn and pissy enough to try and keep casting anyways. She could very well hurt herself real badly doing that, and having her take herself out of the upcoming invasion would also be a very bad play.
Your instinct was, unfortunately, proven correct: she grit her teeth and muscled through the pain, keeping a charge running through her horn as she pawed at the ground for a second time, breaking into a noticeably more unsteady charge. Welp, guess you’ll have to suppress her magic for both your sakes now.
Good thing you keep prepared for wild shit like this, huh?
Maintaining your somewhat weakened smile, you shift into a fighting stance and shift back towards the pillar closest to you, taking another swig of your brewski. This plan, sadly, meant this’d be the last you could taste of it. Shame, too: it was some good shit.
Infuriated, Tempest picks up more speed, ready to gore your ass with her sharp n’ sparkly. You wait for her to get halfway across the room and commit fully to her move before taking one last little sip, followed by you sacrificing the remainder. The crowler is thrown her way, making first contact with her horn. The can, of course, gets obliterated. But more importantly, the beer inside turns into a sudden blast of boozy steam. She cries out in surprise, shutting her eyes in response but nevertheless continuing her charge despite an initial stumble.
By the time the steam blast happened, you had kicked off the pillar behind you for some extra vertical height, grabbing hold of and hanging from one of the many black metal lanterns that hung from each pillar in your penthouse. She makes contact with the pillar and takes a decent chunk out of it with her power, but wound up falling over when she did so, letting out a properly pained cry.
Taking advantage, you drop back to the ground, grabbing Tempest’s barrel before she could stand back up and chucking her straight back at your bedroom door before she could so much as react. Her legs flail mid-air and her eyes go wide with surprise, and before long she hits the door again with a mighty THUD. The door somehow stays intact, but the impact pulled the hinges from the wall, causing her to fall into your bedroom along with the door.
She scrambles to get back up as you approach, but freezes when she sees where she is, staring off at your bed. What about your bed, of all things, just set her off? Weird. Well, it makes your approach go without any interruptions either way, right until you’re a few feet away from the door, her ears swivelling around to the hushed sounds of your bare feet on the hard floor. She damn near jumps out of her skin as she bolts back upright, scrambling back away from you and further into the bedroom. For whatever reason, she looked really spooked. Her tail was pinned down super hard, and you definitely saw a pinkish tint to her cheeks, too.
A theory springs to life in the back of your head upon seeing that adorable little sight. One that turns your smile wicked, and forces you to hold back a laugh.
Oh jeez, Tempest. Did she really take one look at your bed, and figure you were about to turn this tussle from a shonen into a hentai? Hah! Never took her for a filthy fucking pervert. But hey, you could see it.
Her ears lower as you enter your bedroom proper, and you let out a low, menacing chuckle as you look her dead in the eyes, grabbing your door off the ground and propping it back against the doorframe.
ドドドドドドドドドドドド
“I’m going to suggest, very strongly, that you bury this particular hatchet, Tempest,” you open in a low tone of voice. “The invasion is in two days, I’ll remind you.”
Mentioning the invasion broke her out of what you had to assume was her perverse little fantasy, and she shook her head way harder than necessary as she glared back at you, emitting a low growl.
“I’ll make you pay for what you did, Anon!”
You raise an eyebrow at her as you nonchalantly grab the small box containing your horn rings from on top of one of your dressers, surreptitiously slipping one of the dark metal bands onto your ring finger. “Even if you can’t attend the invasion?”
“You’re the one who won’t be attending the invasion!” she fumes.
“Okay, seriously?” you deadpan. “You’re really about to trade gettin’ your horn back for throwing hands with me?”
She lets out a furious cry and charges back at you again. You roll your eyes and let out an unamused sigh.
One destructive, one-sided tussle later...
“Aaaaah!”
Tempest cries out as she’s tossed like a ragdoll onto your bed. She doesn’t have the time, let alone the remaining energy, to pull herself up before you’re on top of her, pinning her face-down against the remains of your bedding, effectively ending the fight.
“Yeah, that’s enough of that,” you tut. “You’re done.”
“Get off!” she snarls, struggling like her life depended on it. “Get off of me!”
“Are you gonna calm down, Tempie?”
“I said get off of me!”
You roll your eyes. “Guess that’s a ‘no’.”
“I’ll kill you! I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t get off of me right now!”
“Really? Sounds like you were gonna do that anyways.”
“Let me go, you bastard!”
“I guess,” you sigh, injecting some mischief into your tone, “I’m gonna have to calm you down now, aren’t I?”
Whatever she was about to yell at you was halted when she looked back at you, catching sight of your matching—if half-hearted—mischievous smile, and the fingers on your free hand waggling in her direction. Her eyes go wide and a tiny gasp leaves her throat, that pink tint returning to her cheeks.
“No,” she murmurs for a moment before going back to struggling. Her horn tries to spark, but she grimaces with pain as the ring you put on her prevents any more than a small spark from being emitted. “No, no no no, d-don’t even think about it!”
Now, you had a pretty good idea of what was going through that filthy, unwashed mind of hers: she thought you were gonna get handsy with what you’ll freely admit is her smokin’ hot bod, and start ravishing her six ways from Sunday. And it hadn’t escaped your notice at all how she kept staring each time your fight earned her an upskirt shot of the now very beaten-up bathrobe you were going commando in. You’ll have to disappoint her, however: she’s not the main character in a bad hentai, and you’re not fourteen anymore. She needed to relax, and badly. And as it happens, you have just the ticket to resolve that.
“No, don’t you dare!” she cries out, a small twinge of fear in her expression as your wiggling fingers get ever closer to her. “Don’t you dare—!”
Her words die in a choked gasp and her body goes rigid as your digits make contact with her scalp, just behind her ears. You don’t give her time to adjust to their presence, starting on delivering the itchies only a second after she froze up.
The result was immediate. A half-pleased half-groan escapes her throat for a split second before she cuts it off, her eyes screwing shut and her teeth gritting in a feeble attempt at resisting the goodness that was coming her way. You could feel her start to tremble beneath you: refusing to allow herself to relax.
“Wha... what is this?” she groaned, her resistance fading by the second in truly adorable fashion.
What it is is the result of your own investigations. See, all that influence you held with the storm beasts came with a whole host of upsides, like letting you stay up to date on all the new prison arrivals, including whoever the Storm King decided to black-bag in secret. Which very much included that unfortunate little pony that was the centrepiece of the big dipshit’s demonstration on the Obsidian Spheres. Now, you genuinely didn’t expect the Spheres, which was a surprise unto itself, but you did have plenty of time to do some of your own interrogation on that captive mare before her twist ending.
Now, what does any hot-blooded man do to calm down a little four-legged horse person that looks like an adorable house pet? You pet ‘em, of course. And to your genuine surprise, it worked amazing on that captive. She was fucking putty in your hands within a minute of getting the scritchies, and happily told you everything you wanted to know. No idea why it works, but that hardly matters. Besides being adorable, the only thing that mattered was that—as Herr Todd would put it—it just works.
Evidently, it was working just as well on Tempest. Only difference is that she’ll need a few more minutes to break down.
“N-no, I— aaah!” She opens her eyes briefly to look back at you with a pleading expression, most of her struggling coming to a stop as she trembled beneath you. “S-stop...!”
Your only answer is a wider smirk and a shift in target. One hand trails around her neck, fingernails gently dragging along her coat as it starts working on her jaw and throat. The other no longer keeps pinning her down, shifting instead to get to work on those flattened ears of hers. Fresh groans of very obvious enjoyment hiss from between her teeth, and her eyes still hold defiance: a shaky vow to not break under your ministrations.
As the itchies continue in earnest, hands shifting all around to hit all the right spots, the source of her ongoing resistance goes through some changes. At first, she was obviously continuing her little fight in her own limited way. Then she wanted to deny you the satisfaction of victory. But finally, in her last stretch, there was embarrassment. Embarrassment at you seeing her like this. Seeing her broken down from such a strong, tough gal into a vulnerable, shivering mess.
But in the end, it was too much for her. With one final chin scratch, Tempest Shadow broke.
An unrestrained, shameless groan of delight gave it away, followed immediately by her body going slack. And still you continued the scratchies in earnest.
“There you go,” you hum. “Just relax. I’ve got you.”
You’re sure it was some kind of lingering pride that kept her from using her words or opening her eyes. No doubt a case of ‘if I don’t acknowledge it, it’s not really happening’, or some such cope. What she did do was press her head against your hands, desperate for stronger scratches, inviting you to have full run of her neck. And boy, were those hands busy with that neck of hers, going from simple scratching to kneading the muscle underneath, massaging all of that tension away. She grunted with half-pained approval as you worked her muscles over, her head flopping down and her chin lying against the bed as her neck muscles slacken under your touch.
Finally, she was starting to relax. But you weren’t about to stop at her neck, oh no. You still had to de-stress the rest of her, and you couldn’t do it through her suit.
She tenses slightly once again when she feels your hand lift away from her neck and loop under her foreleg, grabbing hold of the hidden little zipper for her suit. Remembering herself, she looks back at you with a mixture of embarrassment, indignation, and even a bit of fear, and not even the other hand working her scalp over again can ameliorate that look.
“Don’t,” she softly begs. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“I’ve still got the rest of you to work on,” you hum. “Now get back to relaxin’, you.”
She doesn’t. In fact, she gets visibly nervous as you unzip her suit at a decent pace, that pink tint returning to her cheeks as her underside is exposed to your bedding. You gently take her foreleg into your grasp next, trying to weave it through the leg hole of her suit, but she keeps it curled close to her body, refusing to let it budge. Her eyes held a glimmer of defiance: clearly, thwarting her suit removal was a tiny way to keep fighting you in her mind, and she would not let you pull her legs through the suit’s holes.
So you don’t.
rrrip
Hooking your fingers into the leg holes, you tear through the material easily, causing her to flinch and become even more nervous. She even bites back a small whine when you rip open the hindleg holes. And she goes right back to being tense when you start peeling the suit off of her in earnest, once again starting at the neck and working your way down. Like the zipper, your pace is decent and steady, and in about five seconds time you’ve got her down to her birthday suit. And after pulling her tail free from the dirty and damaged weatherproof article, you unceremoniously toss it off to the side.
Everything about Tempest’s expression and posture screams ‘I can’t believe this is happening’. She shivers slightly in the open air, probably more out of shock than the temperature. That suit never did leave much to the imagination, and sure enough, she’s exactly as sculpted and muscular—and physically attractive—as you expected her to be. Though seeing her actual cutie mark for the first time was a surprise. Didn’t think she’d have that as her special talent!
“D-don’t,” she meekly protests, her cheeks tinting pink again. “G-get away.”
Alright, enough sightseeing; you’re liable to give that perverse little hamster wheelin’ away in her noggin a shot of espresso at this rate. So without further ado, your hands return to her neck. And so begins her full-body massage.
In no time at all, she’s back to screwing her eyes shut and refusing to speak, pretending that this wasn’t as nice as you both knew it was. But the noises she makes tell the whole truth for you. Slowly and methodically, you work her muscles over, squeezing out the tension she’s holding like you’d squeeze the juice out of an orange.
Over the course of twenty-odd minutes, you work Tempest’s muscles into putty. Outside of feeble, insincere pleas for you to stop, she offers precisely zero resistance to your work, giving you full run of her body. By the time you finish, she’s completely splayed out on her stomach, panting gently as she recovers from your work.
“There,” you hum. “All better now?”
“Mmmnnn...” She pulls her forelegs back towards her, folding them against her body as she slowly cranes her neck to look at you. There was still some glimmer of defiance in her eyes. “T-take off the ring.”
Smiling, you reach over towards her head, and she moves it to meet you in the middle, her suppressed horn front and centre. Rather than grasp the ring in your fingers, however, your palm rests on top of her head, your thumb idly rubbing the base of her horn.
“Anon,” she hums with annoyance, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to look threatening. Emphasis on ‘attempt’. “Take the ring off.”
You raise an eyebrow. “You gonna behave this time?”
She screws her eyes shut with annoyance, relaxes her face with desperation, and reopens her eyes with a new, pleading look. “P-please.”
“Tempie,” you warn.
“No magic,” she quickly blurts. “I-I won’t use any magic. P-please, just take it off. I...” She swallows dry, averting her eyes. “I hate how it feels.”
Humming, you lift your hand off her head and grasp the ring with your fingers. You pause, however, to look her in the eye. “One spark, and it goes back on. Capiche?”
Annoyance played across her face as she lightly snorted. “F-fine.”
With a quick little twist, the ring unlocks and slips right off. Tempest exhales with relief, reaching up to rub the broken appendage with her hooves for a few moments. She freezes for a moment when your hand rests on her withers and gently rubs between the blades, but she lets out a soft hum soon after, laying her head back down on the bed and loosening back up under your touch. All the while, you keep the ring handy, slipping it loosely onto your other hand’s ring finger.
“Horn rings hurt me,” she explains unprompted. “B-because mine’s broken.”
“Good thing you’ll be getting it back then, huh?” you hum.
Outside of her tail flicking, she doesn’t respond. Not immediately, anyways.
“Why?” she softly inquires, a hint of annoyance mixed in with her vulnerable uncertainty. “Why didn’t you beat me?”
You raise an eyebrow. “I did beat you.”
“Normally!” she qualifies, bringing the annoyance front and centre. “Y-you could have just beaten me up and put me in the hospital!”
“Oh, easily,” you hum. “But then, you wouldn’t be in shape for the big day, would you?”
She lifts her head a bit to glare at you. “Is that your excuse for humiliating me like this?”
“Girl, what’s humiliating about getting a free massage?”
“What, am I supposed to thank you for it?!”
“It’d be nice.” You grin at her ever wider, successfully irritating her again.
“I hate you,” she huffs, turning away with a small snort. “I hate you so much, you know that?”
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” you chuckle, adopting a knowing tone. “Usually they mean it, though.”
“I do mean it!” she exclaims, her ears starting to fold back. “Sweet merciful Celestia, you are such a tailhole!”
“Yeah, I get that a lot, too.”
“Why do you think?! I-I can’t believe you just... p-pet me!” Oh sweet God, that embarrassed blush as she said that is fucking adorable. “Pet me like a dog! A-and then you went and stripped me!”
“I said I needed to get to the rest of you. And you weren’t exactly being cooperative.”
“Why would I be?! Like I’d want some sick, perverted freak like you to get under my—!”
She realizes she made a grave mistake the second the words left her mouth, her hooves snapping over her pie hole and her eyes widening as her blush turns from pink to red.
There it is.
“Under your what, Tempie?” you hum dangerously.
“Nothing!” she blurts, far meeker than normal for her.
Your eyes lid and your smirk becomes almost wolfish, and there’s a genuine fear in her eyes when she takes your expression in. She tries to stand or crawl—anything to escape, really—but the hand still on her withers applies plenty of downward force, keeping her in place.
“No! Noletmego!” She thrashes to no avail, wanting to be anywhere but here right now. “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean to say—!”
“Tempie,” you coo, your words dripping with playful danger. “What, exactly, did you think I was going to do to you?”
Hah. There’s the +9 Tsundere Blush of Denial you were looking for. And it came complete in the box with her eyes darting away from yours, and her mouth moving in an attempt to say something—anything—that didn’t make her out to be the world’s biggest pervert. All while you wore the world’s biggest knowing smirk.
“Nothing!” she bleats more than she hisses. Her words come our faster and more frantic as your head starts leaning in close to hers. “No no no, I mean it! I didn’t think you were—!”
“You thought I was gonna fuck you, didn’tcha?”
There it is. The perfect, deer-in-headlights look, her struggles freezing like said deer as her mouth hangs open in abject shock. You have her number, and she knows it.
“You thought I was gonna ravage you.” She blushes and lightly whines when your fingers gently graze her barrel, slowly running down towards her rear end. “Ruin you. Turn you into a shivering little puddle beneath me. Didn’t you?”
“N-no... I-I...!” She shivers under your touch.
“And the entire time I was so thoughtfully giving you that massage, you kept wondering to yourself when I’d start copping a feel, weren’t you?” you hum, savouring her reaction like a fine wine.
“S-stop...”
Your low, humoured chuckle gives way to a playful sigh. “Ahh, Tempie. Tempie, Tempie, Tempie. You didn’t have to go through all of this shit, you know. If you wanted to fuck...”
She gasps as your hands reach her flank, briefly palming her cutie marks. “Don’t,” she whines.
“All you had to do was ask.”
With that, your hands began to softly knead and grope her rear. A soft whimper leaves her and a blush overtakes her face as she stares wide-eyed at the sight, doing absolutely nothing to stop you.
“There,” you hum, your grin somewhere between playful and evil. “Was this—” you give her rump a quick, firm squeeze with both hands, making her gasp “—what you were hoping for?”
“No.” She buries her head in the bedsheets, covering it further with her forelegs as she descends into full-blown denial. “Nononononono...!”
While her front end continued to deny her deepest desires to both you and herself, her rear end was telling a wholly different story. Slowly but steadily, as your kneading continued, her tail was lifting up and away, putting her mare bits on full display for you. True to your... literature’s illustrations, her marehood was a slight shade darker than her surrounding coat, and was every bit as good looking as you expected it to be.
Out from the bottom of her slit, her clitoris makes it’s first appearance: popping out with a light squelch, exposing the pink of her vaginal opening above where it parted her folds. It stayed out for a split second before retreating back inside, leaving a light dampness coating her folds where it went. Your Equestrian porno mag collection had prepared you for how mare pussies looked and operated, but still images can only do so much: they only ever showed the clit hidden on one image, and exposed the next. Seeing the winking happening in person, however? Far hotter sight. And the sound it makes really completes the experience.
Humming aloud, your groping hands slow their roll, your thumbs slowly dragging along her coat as they reach towards her slit in unison, her clit popping back out in anticipation. Tempest tensed under your hands as your thumbs approached, and she uncovered her head to look back at you with an expression of pure embarrassment, fiery rage, and just a little bit of insistent desire.
“Don’t!” she whines, desperation colouring her tone. “Y-you already beat me! Haven’t I suffered enough?”
“Tempie, Tempie, Tempie,” you hum, playfully shaking your head as you smile at her. “I don’t want you to suffer. I just want you to relax.”
And if you had to appease the lusty little demon squirrelling away in her subconscious to do it, then you’d do it with a smile. Even if you had to pull a Skull Face and awaken your aged, tamed, and incredibly powerful demon to overpower hers: your Lethice to her Zetaz.
Your thumbs finally reach her entrance, working together to brush against the engorged, increasingly warm folds in parallel, rubbing gently up and down. A huge shiver ran through her as you made first contact, and she grit her teeth to stifle a small groan.
“A-aaaah...!” She shuts her eyes tight and grits her teeth harder to stifle the light moan that came once your thumbs reached her lower folds, her clit winking out again and brushing against their tips, sandwiching itself between them. Her eyes only reopen halfway, her ears pinned back and her expression now completely ashamed as she looks back at you, desperate to spare herself from further embarrassment. “P-please...!”
You don’t stop. Nor does she resist you. Up and down, your thumbs continue their cycle, rubbing along her opening. They settle into a nice rhythm with her clit, the bundle of nerves poking out to kiss them each time they reach the nadir of their motions. All the while, Tempest’s eyes screw shut again and she bites her lip softly, trying not to vocalize just how nice you were making her feel. With less than ideal results.
“Aah... Ngh... Ohh... O-oooh...”
You hum at the small splatter of her juices that flecks out with one of her winks, small rivulets of her natural lubricant trailing down her vulva. You weren’t even touching her that much, and she was already like this? Oh, she needs this. She needs this bad.
Changing strategy, one hand trails down her hindleg and gently grasps it right below her hock, gently enough that she could easily break free if she wanted to. Meanwhile, the other hand switches up it’s touches to her marehood. Your thumb pulls away, only to be replaced with the second knuckle of your index finger, sliding up and down along her opening and applying only enough pressure to stay in contact with her moist folds. Her clit was quick to pop back out at it’s descending rub, giving your furled finger a coating of warm fluids to ease it’s motions.
“Aaaah...! A-Anon, please!” There was a desperate look in her eyes: desperation for more that she tried to jiu-jitsu into desperation for you to stop. “I’m sorry, okay?! I’m sorry I tried to kill you! I-I won’t do it again, I swear! Please, you don’t have to do this. Just... just let me go!”
“I’m not keeping you here, Tempie.” you point out with a smirk. “You’re free to leave whenever you want.”
She says nothing. There’s nothing to say to that. Despite her begging, she does literally nothing to extricate herself from this situation: not even so much as struggle. Nothing but emit another soft moan as your finger receives a more voluminous splash of her juices.
“Jesus, girl,” you remark. “How long’s it been since you got some?”
“N-none of your—aahhh—b-business.”
“That long, huh?” you infer with a cheeky little smirk that she hated seeing, her snout wrinkling and her cheeks slightly puffing out in the purest, cutest display of tsundere denial you’ve seen to date.
“Sh-shut up.”
“Make me.”
Her angry grumble doesn’t last long, crumbling back to stifled moans.
“Y’know, as much as I love hearing you sing for me like this,” you remark, adding your middle finger to the mix and increasing the pressure just a tiny bit, “I think it’s about time you just came clean. You want this, Tempie.” A sensual chuckle rumbles forth from your throat “No, you need this.”
“I do not!” she denies adorably, her scowl turning venomous. “Wh-who’d ever want a sick, disgusting freak like you?”
“You, apparently,” you retort with a mischievous grin, increasing your pressure against her marehood.
“Aaah! Y-you’re sick,” she spits.
“And you’re the neediest, leakiest girl I’ve ever had the pleasure of, well, pleasuring. Enjoying yourself?”
“No!” she blatantly lies. “I am not—aaah—e-enjoying this.”
“Then I guess,” you hum dangerously, unhanding her marehood and instead grabbing her other leg, “I’ll just have to kick things up a notch.”
“W-wait what are you—?! Aaaah!”
She cries out in surprise, not pleasure, as you flip her over onto her back with a quick motion, sliding her closer towards you as you go. Her forelegs reflexively curl up against her body as she is pulled close, her ears flat and eyes wide with surprise and alarm.
Your fingering hand walks along her leg and across her inner thigh as it comes back at a slow, teasing pace towards her honeypot, while your other hand shifts lower, brushing past her hock and pressing against her other thigh, gently spreading her wider as it holds her in place. Goosebumps break out across Tempest’s skin as your fingering hand walks it’s walk, and her muscles tense under your hold, preparing to make an escape that you knew at this point she wasn’t going to make.
“So here’s what’s going to happen.”
“N-aah!”
Your hand returns to her marehood, but not yet actively: all four of your second knuckles rested against her slit, remaining unmoving even as she winks against your index finger.
“First, I’m going to warm you up a bit. Get your blood flowing a little before we dive head-first into what you really want me to do to you.”
“I don’t want you to do anything!” she lies again, a furious blush spreading across her face.
“Mm-hmm, sure.”
“I’ll kill you!” she fumes, once again choosing not to action that threat, let alone fight back. “I swear, I’ll kill you if you try anything!”
“Which leads me nicely to point number two,” you hum. “Let’s call it... safety.”
Your index and middle knuckles pinch her clit, and she wasn’t prepared to bite back the moan this time. Causing her to cover her mouth with embarrassment once it left her, her blush getting just that little bit brighter for it.
“I know how you work, Tempie. And like I said, I know you want this. I know it’s hard, really hard, for you to be honest about that. So I won’t make you admit it to me.”
Too busy with holding back her moans, all she could do was glare at you as you continued gently pinching her nub, following it back into her folds.
“Instead, I’m going to make you do something you’re really used to doing. Something easy. Something that’s automatic for you by now.”
Releasing her clit, your fingers pull back enough to fully extend, taking advantage of their differing lengths to more effectively prod, tease, and gently flick at the erogenous bundle of nerves, causing her eyes to screw shut under the sensations.
“All you have to do to get me to stop this,” you hum, “Is tell me to stop. That simple.”
Her eyes shoot open at your words. She makes to uncover her mouth and try to speak, but your other hand shoots up to silence her with a finger.
“Ah-ah. Let me finish.” Now came the evil smile. “When I say I’ll stop, I mean it. All hands will be off of you, and won’t ever go back on. You’ll be totally free to leave, no questions asked. No more rubbing, no more teasing, ever again. You’ll never get to feel me warm you up.” You lean in close to her for your next line, your voice turning low, lascivious, and dangerous. “And you’ll never get to experience what it’s like to be fucked so hard that the bed breaks from under you. Ever.”
She was breathing heavily onto your shushing finger now. Your entire spiel had succeeded in working her up, and nowhere was that more evident than the look in her eyes. What started as deep-in-denial anger was now just indignation, coloured by a growing haze of lust. She didn’t want you to stop. And that promise of intense sex only cemented that desire, the lustful component of her gaze growing by leaps and bounds upon your mention of it.
Your finger falls away from her mouth, the hand it was attached to brushing along her body as it returned to her thigh. Once it was back, you pull away to an upright position again. “I’m going to count to three.”
The fingers on her nub shift position, sinking an eighth of an inch into her now soaking wet folds.
“On three, I’m gonna warm you right up with these fingers of mine. I’m gonna bury ‘em knuckle-deep in you. And then I’m gonna screw you senseless with them.” The evil smirk comes back for a round 2. “Do you want me to stop?”
Her jaw works, but no words emerge. Her pride is in an open civil war with her unrequited needs, and neither one of them has the mic. All she can do is breathe heavily in response.
“One.”
You apply some pressure, twisting your fingers to and fro ever so slightly. She stifles a small moan, her clit winking out again, helping to guide you into position.
“Two.”
She looks away from your eyes and down her belly, towards your point of contact with her mare bits. Her wide, lustful eyes were full of disbelief: disbelief at what was about to happen, and disbelief that she was actually about to let this happen.
“Three.”
Her back arches and she lets out a stifled cry as your index and middle fingers smoothly penetrate her, the fluids they’d been slathered with beforehand doing an incredible job at easing their passage. As promised, your fingers hilt up to the knuckles inside her, and right away her passage clenches hard around them, her nub winking aggressively against your thumb all the while and giving your hand a quick, fresh coating of her mare juices.
“Aaaaaaaah...!”
Her eyes close and her head lolls back as a low, shameful groan of pleasure leaves her throat. Rather than lose herself any further in the sensation, however, she forces herself to look back at your amorous point of contact. With a light shiver and a furious blush, those turquoise eyes shift back up to you, trying to glare holes through your head.
“Y-you’re not going to break me,” she defiantly declares.
A faintly amused sigh leaves your lips, and you immediately shift her pissy expression by way of twisting your digits, causing her eyes to squint nearly shut and forcing her to cover her mouth with her hooves to stifle another moan.
“Tempie,” you hum, “We’ve been over this.”
Her teeth grit in a feeble showing of resistance. Her head wants to lie back down on the bed so bad, and get nice and comfy for what she knew was to come. You draw a much louder, longer, and shame-filled moan from her when your index finger curls, gently scratching her sopping wet, velveteen folds from the inside.
“I’m not trying to break you.”
Curling your middle finger as well does her defiant little show in, and her head finally arches back against the bed, lightly twisting to the side as she tries so very, very hard to stop herself from vocalizing her approval. That glare of her continues through a half-lidded eye, but it was struggling to stay open.
“I’m trying to make you relax.”
And hopefully, satiating her lusty little inner demon would do the trick.
With that, your fingers begin pumping in earnest.
Tempest’s eye screws shut as the fingering starts, the stifled noises she makes both adorable and erotic in currently equal measure. Her free hindleg feebly brushes against your arm, trying somehow to deflect your motions and prevent you from doing more, but the trembling limb doesn’t have anywhere near the strength she needs. You knew enough about pony mares to know that if she really didn’t want you inside of her, she could keep you out with ease: their vaginal muscle control was such that they could flat-out deny entrance to anyone, full stop. The fact that she was not only letting you in, but putting on this little puppet-play resistance act, told you that she was getting off on this whole scenario, and nowhere was that more evident than in just how ludicrously wet she was.
“Aaah... Nnngh... Ahhh-haah... mmmph...”
As you change up your motions, adding some finger curls to the mix every now and then, your digits brush against a spot inside of her with an ever-so-slightly different texture. Tempest gasps loudly when you touch it, her body going rigid for a moment. You’re only confused for a split second before you realize what it is you’ve just brushed against.
No fucking way, G-spots aren’t pure fiction in Equestria? Jeez, nobody tell the porno authors back on Earth about this place!
With that nugget of knowledge under your belt, you continue pleasuring the shivering, deeply embarrassed mare beneath you. Every so often, you take what you’ve learned and use it to enhance your mix-ups: either thumbing her clit or making a ‘come hither’ motion right onto that spot of hers. Whichever one you pick, it draws a low, deeply pleasured moan from her. And you get an especially loud one when you do both at the same time.
“Aaaaah...!”
Tempest bit down on her hoof, trying and failing to stifle the sounds of her moans, whines, and sighs. She shivered and trembled beneath you, her hindlegs twitching in the air as her free foreleg pawed uselessly at the covers beneath her, desperate for something solid to hold on to. Every now and then, she cracked open one of her tightly shut eyes to glare at you, shutting it again with a lengthier, lower moan—almost on command, really—whenever your fingers scritched that special little spot in her, or whenever your thumb gave her nub that little squeeze: both things she’d never admit she liked the most about your successful, knuckle-deep approach to getting her rocks off.
Yet every time she looked at you that way, there was less and less resistance. In it’s place, a haze of lust crept into her eyes, glazing them over little by little. Heralding the piecemeal increases in the volume and frequency of the noises you drew out of her, and making her hindlegs spread out just that little bit more in service of granting you unrestricted access to her. But no matter how good you made her feel, there was always that small, intense fire in the back of her eyes, separate from her resistance: an ever-present sign of how she remained unbroken, and a silent promise to never break under you, despite her situation.
Silly girl. You just went over this.
“Ngh-haaaah...! Aah... oooooh... hnnnngh...”
And then, many lingering minutes into your tireless, constant fingerblasting, you saw all the signs. The stronger, more insistent clenching around your fingers. The liquid arousal now leaking freely down her rump, small droplets flicking out with every thrust, coating your hand thoroughly. The tension in her belly, it and the rest of her body beading with sweat. Her needy panting for sweet, precious air. Her moans coming out just an octave higher, her mouth no longer obstructed by her hoof, with both forelegs now splayed out uselessly to her sides.
“Ha-aaaaaah... aaaah, nngh, o-oooh...”
She was close. So very, very close.
And yet, you could also detect confusion in her voice. Like she didn’t quite understand what was about to happen to her. The downright criminal realization and question occurs to you then: has nobody made her cum before?
A tiny whine leaves her throat. “I-I caaaan’t... Wh-what’s—ooooooh... h-happen—ah!”
Sweet pony Jesus, this smoking hot cutie has never cum before.
Oh, hell no.
Where there was once dickish amusement, there was now a righteous drive that any hot-blooded brother would understand: this girl is a victim of a fucking crime, and you are rectifying that shit post-fucking-haste. With the zeal of a holy crusader, you intensify your ministrations, going at her harder and faster. She cried out almost immediately, her eyes shooting open to look back at you, an undercurrent of confusion and fear in her otherwise lust-occluded eyes.
“Haaah! Wh-what are you—?! Aah! Ha-aaah! I-I don’t—aaaaaaah!”
“Hold onto me.” Your free hand comes out, resting against her upper barrel, rising and falling rapidly with her breathing. “You’re in for a fuckin’ ride, babe.”
Whatever she was about to say, be it protest, begging, or what-have-you, was cut off with a strangled cry of delight as your technique shifted: a full-on assault on that innermost spot of hers, in concert with a pincer attack on her rapidly winking clit, your thumb squeezing it against your pistoning fingers. Reflexively, her hooves latched onto your hand, holding on for dear life as you did, indeed, give her a fuckin’ ride.
A few more seconds of this was all it took for her to burst. And boy, did she ever burst.
She damn near lurched off of the bed when her back arched, a pleasured half-scream ringing out of her, the ecstatic note held for several very long seconds. The tension in those muscles all came to a head, each string pulled as tight as piano wire. A healthy volume of warm mare cum squirted out of her, bathing your hand damn near up to your wrist in her juices. And to top it all off, her inner muscles weren’t content to just squeeze you like a carnal vice: they were actively rippling around your fingers. Drawing them in. Milking them.
Dear God, just thinking about your little soldier feeling that on him was redirecting your blood flow something fierce. But this wasn’t about you right now. This was about her.
At long last, after a good quarter of a minute and change, she went slack, her entire back flopping against the mattress once again, with her body rolling onto it’s side soon after. Her breathing was deep and ragged, yet also calm and relaxed. That relaxation was evident in her muscles as well, with nary a tremble seen or felt in any of her legs. And through her half-lidded eyes and that faint little smile, it was plain to see that she thoroughly enjoyed the experience, and was savouring the afterglow like a fine wine.
You say nothing, content to just watch her finally relaxing and enjoying herself. Y’know, she was cute as hell even with all that edgy pretense of hers. Without it? Oh, she was adorable. Delectable, even.
She spends an impressive amount of time just lost in her own happy little world: a little past two minutes by your entirely inaccurate judgment. But her awareness had to return eventually, and it settled on right now as the opportune time. Her eyes widen and her ears flatten as she remembers where she is. And more specifically, who it was that delivered that slice of nirvana to her just then.
“Yo-you...” Her glare wasn’t nearly as powerful as you knew it could be. It was like she wanted to be really mad at you, but simply couldn’t summon the anger. A good sign! “You just... What was that?”
“That,” you chirp, “Is what’s supposed to happen. A first for you, I gather?”
“You... son of a...” Nope, she just couldn’t get mad. So she chose instead to glance over at her rump. More specifically, the hand still on it. A lift of her hindleg showed your fingers still where they were: knuckle-deep. Confusion warred with annoyance in her eyes as she looked back at you, and her voice was noticeably uncertain, even uneasy. “A-are you saying that...?”
“Didn’t know you could cum too?” You quirk an eyebrow. “You’re not about to tell me you’re a virgin too, are ‘ya?”
“No!” she bleats, flushing red.
“Well whoever ‘ya slept with before was fucking shit, I’ll tell you that much.”
“Clearly,” she fumed, glancing at your fingering hand again.
“So!” you chirp again, flashing her a winning smile. “All calmed down now, babe?”
She looks away with a heart-stoppingly adorable blush, complete with her ears folding back. “D-don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
Jesus Christ almighty she was covering her face. “Sh-shut your damn mouth.” Holy fuck she’s adorable.
“Still full of piss and vinegar, huh?” You chuckle. “Can’t say I blame ‘ya.”
She gave a sharp little gasp as your fingers finally pulled free of her marehood, and her head whipped back around to glare at you nice and proper.
“I mean, if I found out I’d been getting laid wrong this whole time, I’d be pissed, too.”
The two fingers responsible for pleasuring her were slightly wrinkled from their lengthy stay inside her. Giving your fingers a little waggle, you look Tempest dead in the eyes and give those fingers a slow lick—
Whoa. Holy shit. She tastes good. Like, really good. The distinct flavour of fizzy candy, of all the fucking things, blended in with that cocktail of powerful pheromones that screamed ‘fertile female’ to your lizard brain, and flicked all the right switches in turn. Not at all what you were expecting.
You make your pleasure known with a low, rumbling hum as you slowly tongue-bathe your hand in turn, never breaking eye contact with her. The source of your unexpected flavour surprise looks back, but not with a glare. No, she was wide-eyed and red-faced, her mouth hanging open in abject shock and more than a little arousal of her own.
You make a show of saving your pinky finger for last, and pop it out of your mouth like a lollipop when you were done with it. “That. Was fucking delicious.” Her ears lower in response to you licking your lips. “Definitely going down on you later.”
She didn’t understand what you meant by that at first, but a little waggle of your tongue cleared up the confusion for her. And her response was a bright red blush, accompanied by a small gasp and her tail pinning flat against her mare bits.
“Unless, of course, it’s not foreplay you’re after now.” For the pièce de résistance, you undo the cord of your bathrobe and toss it aside with one motion, leaving the front of the tattered covering to flop open. “No, you’re cravin’ the main course, aren’tcha?”
She couldn’t so much as utter a word in response, utterly transfixed as you slowly remove your garment, pacing the reveal for her viewing pleasure. You’d been tenting your bathrobe for a while now, and her eyes were naturally drawn towards the prominent bulge even before you removed the cord. Freed from it’s very soft confines, however, your erection stood proudly at attention, emerging out from between the flaps. She barely even noticed you losing the rest of the robe with a quick little roll of your shoulders, the tattered article sliding unceremoniously to the floor right next to her bodysuit. No, her eyes were firmly on the prize here, and boy howdy was there some serious hunger smouldering in those eyes of hers. Flattered by her staring, your little soldier throbs a little in appreciation, a fresh bead of pre rolling down from the tip.
“How about it, babe?” She flinches, fruitlessly shaking her head to silence the hungry beast within her as she looks up into your eyes, uncertainty and need fighting each other in her gaze. “You want this. I want this. So how about we stop beating around the bush, and get right to it?”
She can’t say anything, though God only knows she’s trying. Her attempts all come out as jumbled, embarrassed stammers. Some of that reads as angry, tsundere rejection. Others read as desperate, super tsundere acceptance. But after a few moments of getting nowhere with her words, she falls silent at your deep, commanding, almost threatening chuckle.
“Ahh, that’s right. I almost forgot.” She lets out a small gasp when you reach down and grab one of her hindlegs, wearing a smouldering smile all the while. “You prefer fightin’ back, telling me ‘no’.”
“N-no waaaait!”
Despite her cry, she offers zero resistance as you pull her in close. In only a moment, she’s laid on her back again, both hands gripping her thighs and spreading her legs apart. She lets out a semi-frightened half-moan when your member flops onto her underbelly next, neatly nestled between her teats: a preview of just how deep you were about to go. Those wide eyes of hers dart between you and your cock, and though she looks really nervous, she also looks the most turned-on you think you’ve seen so far.
“Last chance, babe.” Even you couldn’t keep the low rumble of need out of your own voice at this point, and you doubt any mortal man could. “Last chance to say no.” You lean in close to her, grinning wickedly as your noses come close to touching. “And I do mean the last time. ‘Cause once I’m in, not even King Arthur himself can pull me outta you.”
A low, aroused whine leaves her throat. She wanted to say yes. You knew she wanted to say yes. She knew that you knew that she wanted to say yes. And yet, that lingering pride kept her from saying the magic word. The only thing it would allow her to say was ‘no’. And you both knew that there was going to be no ‘no’.
So just like before, you start counting. “One.”
She stifles her whimper with a lip bite as you pull back and away from her face until you’re upright again, dragging your member slowly, ever-so-slowly back between her teats, savouring the feel of her mounds and the warm, soft skin of her underbelly. You could hear the quiet squelching of her clitoris winking against open air by the time your head cleared the valley of her teats.
“Two.”
Uninterrupted, your dick continues it’s journey along her surface until finally, the head shares a brief little kiss with her winking nub on it’s way down, causing her to shiver. It arrives at it’s destination soon after: prodding at her entrance, head gently pressed up and against her clit as it winks even more rapidly now, gently helping to guide you into position.
“A-aaah...”
You hold your own groan in, saving it for when you were inside her proper. Even so, the heat and moisture caressing your tip was unreal: a little teaser of what was to come. And the constant lavishing said tip got from her winking nub only enhanced the experience.
“You’re sick,” she moans, her tone thick with syrupy lust. “T-taking advantage of me like this...”
“Is that a ‘stop’?” you retort, renewing that wicked smile.
She winked against you in quick succession, accompanying her response of a needy little groan, traces of frustration working their way into her tone. Those smouldering eyes of hers held the remainder of her response: she wanted you inside of her now, and she was promising you nothing but pain and suffering if you even thought about stopping now.
You answer her in kind with a short hum.
“Three.”
Tempest lets out a sharp, shuddering gasp as you begin to penetrate her proper, slow and steady. Her body offered zero resistance, your head pressing inside smoothly, the copious amounts of her juices doing their job properly by lubricating your entry. You bite back your groaning at the initial sensation, opting to hold it until you were all the way in.
Over the course of five whole seconds, Tempest threw her head back against the bed, tossing and turning it all around as she panted and moaned at what, to her, was your torturously slow entrance. Those moans began low and sensual and climbed to high and desperate for the entire duration, until finally, your hips collided with a light, damp smack.
“Aa-aaaaaaah...!”
“Nngh...”
Her body instantly rewarded you with a powerful clench, intensifying the groan you’d been holding in. This girl’s insides were out of this goddamn world: the texture was amazing, the heat was unreal, her muscle control was incredible, and all the while, she continued to leak like a faucet. Her clit regularly winked against your groin, as if peppering you with little kisses. And to top it all off, being balls-deep in her had your tip poking against what had to be her cervix. For her part, Tempest looked beyond pleased with what she was feeling as well, her head fully rolled back as she let out an unashamedly pleasured moan.
The two of you stay locked together for a while, just savouring the sensations. You’d have thought that getting deep enough to start prodding her cervix would have been less than pleasant for her, but apparently not: your attempt to pull back a little bit for her sake was halted by her muscles clamping down hard, and her hindlegs curling up and around your lower back and pulling you in even further: the pony equivalent of a leg lock. Through her panting and groaning, she cooed quietly with delight every time your tip brushed and ground against the end of her line, shivering slightly each time. Either mares don’t hurt from this like human girls do, or she’s got a masochist itch that needs scratching. Either way, it’s an itch you’re more than happy to scratch.
But you can only stay static and locked-in for so long. Both blood and lizard brain clamour to screw her into next Tuesday, and you’re not about to deny that call.
You exhale, looking Tempest in the eyes. “Ready?”
Her unfocused eyes shift down and up towards you, meeting your gaze. Her rhythmic squeezing let up, and you felt her hindlegs unlocking. You knew damn well what her face was saying: she wanted you to fucking rail her, even more than you did. And who were you to deny her request?
She gasps, short and sharp, when you pull back, and moans and shudders when you push back in. And thus, the railing began in earnest.
You start things off slow, pulling back only halfway on each stroke, letting her get a feel for things, constantly listening to the cadence of her groans to gauge when to change things up. Continuing the theme from last time, she really seemed to like it when you went deep enough to poke at the door to her baby maker, so you made it a point to mix things up with a nice, deep prodding every third or fourth stroke, drawing a shuddering moan from her each time.
“Ohh... Aaah... Haaa... A-ahhhh...!”
As your speed begins to pick up, you also discover another sweet spot for her: she liked it when her entrance was given some attention as well, especially by way of stirring her up with a circular grinding motion. Adding it to the repertoire of mix-ups, you start to settle into long strings of thrusts, going for either a deep poke or a stirring grind to break up the monotony, much to her delight. She really liked it when you treated her to both at once: stirring her up roughly before plunging in at near full force. Her reward for those little treats was an especially powerful clench that locked you into her depths for a few moments, rippling and squeezing you all the while.
“Aa-aaaaahhh! Haaah, nnngh, oohhh, aaah, ha-aaah! Haah, I-I’m—Aaaaah!”
You didn’t need the verbal cue to tell that she was already getting close again. God only knows how pent-up she must be. Good thing you’re here to correct that. Maintaining your speed, you switch to deepening your thrusts instead, intent on sending her careening over that edge for a second time.
“Aaah! Ohhh! Ha-aaah! O-oh sweet Celesti—aaaaah! I-I’m... I’m g-gaaah!”
You make one last series of rapid, all-out strokes, and you don’t stop until, at last, the dam bursts. Her back arches again, her hindlegs squeeze against your sides for support, and she throws her head back with a second loud cry of release.
“Nhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!”
“That’s it,” you coo, already starting to breathe heavily. “There you go. Let it all out.”
She gives your groin a fresh coat of her juices, and as much as you’d have liked to keep fucking her during her orgasm, you were in no position to do so: her inner muscles kept you locked balls-deep in her, giving your member the full milking experience your fingers had gotten a sneak preview of before. It was every bit as good as you imagined it would be.
“Nngh... Fffffuck...!”
So good, in fact, that it was bringing you close to your own finish line. And though this would hardly be the worst time to fill her up, you hold fast, aiming to get a few more minutes and another orgasm out of her yet. Even so, her hungry passage does get a little consolation prize by way of a few spurts of well-earned pre: evidence of your own near-finish.
Eventually, she comes down from her high, her inner muscles relaxing along with her outer ones as well. Like last time, she’s left a panting, thoroughly pleasured mess from the experience. And even though you’re once again free to move, you stay where you are, letting her ride things out once again.
“Whew.” The sex was definitely taking it’s toll on you by now, and getting that close to your own edge had you panting a bit with her. “You all right?”
Outside of catching her breath, she doesn’t answer. But as she comes down from her high, regaining control of her breathing, the look in her refocusing eyes shifts away from that haze of lust, replaced with a growing self-awareness. You recognize this all too well: post-nut clarity.
“Thuh... this...” She uses her forelegs to push herself up a bit, looking down her body at where you two were connected. “Is this... is this really happening?”
“Heh.” You give her thighs a gentle rub. “Sure is, babe.”
“I... I...” Blinking, she tears her eyes from your conjoined pelvises and looks up into your eyes. Indignation was there, of course, but there was also a note of sadness, too. “Th-this wasn’t supposed to happen.”
You raise an eyebrow, but don’t say anything.
“You weren’t supposed to win. You weren’t supposed to beat me again! You...” She pauses to shut her eyes and inhale sharply through her nose, deflating a bit as she exhales and reopens her eyes. “You weren’t supposed to—”
You cut her off with a quick stir of her honeypot, causing her to gasp and clench around you.
“And yet, here we are,” you hum, wearing a hungry, mischievous smirk.
“B-bastard,” she huffs, briefly looking down at your union with a small blush.
“In the flesh. And lovin’ yours in particular.” You punctuate that line with another cheeky little stir, drawing an annoyed yet pleased grunt from her.
“Ugh, I hate you! Haven’t you...” Her eyes light up with realization, followed by a mix of disbelief and a kernel of blooming lust as she looks back at your union, then back up at you. “Wait. Wuh-wait. You... you haven’t...?”
“You got me real close, I’ll give you that.” Your grip on her thighs tightens back up, and you fully re-enter her again, your tip once again prodding her inner barrier and drawing a short, pleased little grunt from her, despite herself. “But I’m not through with you yet, babe,” you growl. “Not even close.”
An involuntary moan leaves her as you slowly yet forcefully start stirring her up again, just the way she likes. Warming both of you up for the next round.
“N-no wait—aaaah! Ngh... d-don’t!” Now that she had her senses again, she looked really keen on keeping them. “P-please, don’t go so—haa-aaaaaaah...!”
For your third and hopefully not final trick, you start brushing your length against that sensitive spot you’d found with your fingers, the new sensation cutting her off briefly.
“Y-you...! Aaah... Grrr...!” Snorting, she shifts her hindlegs from squeezing your sides to gently curling around your back: a much lighter, easily escaped leg lock. Not that you had any intention of escaping from it. “J-just can’t h-heeeelp yourself, c-can you? Ahhn!” Oh yeah, she was fully tsundere again, and you loved to see it. “Violating me like thiiiiisss...! Ahhh... Y-you damn a-animal!”
A faux-thoughtful hum leaves your throat. And you come to a complete stop, half-pulled out of her. It’s been a while since you did a little trolling.
“Haah... Wha... what?”
“So you’re not enjoyin’ this anymore, is that it?” you question, a sinister grin splitting your face. “You want me to stop, is that right?”
You already knew the answer, of course, and her continued needy winking confirmed that answer where her mouth couldn’t.
“I...! Y-you can’t...! You can’t just—!”
“Can’t I, now?” You lean in a little closer for dramatic effect. “Like I said. I’ll stop on your say-so, just like that.” A raised eyebrow. “You do, after all, want me to stop. Right?”
She’s completely exasperated, tripping over her words with a furious blush as she tries to tell you to continue in a way that doesn’t sound like an admission of wanting you to plow her like a summer field. Finally, however, she has enough: something in her eyes snaps right then, and with a loud, frustrated groan, her hindlegs clamp hard around your back, forcing you all the way back inside her.
“Fine! Fine, you win!” she exclaims, eyes screwed tightly shut as she finally chooses honesty. “Finish what you started, damn it! Is that what you wanted to hear, you sick bastard?!”
You reward her with a triple treat: a rough stirring and a deep poking, head brushing her sweet spot as you go. Her eyes bulge open with a throaty moan in response.
“Better hold on to something, Tempie.” you warn with a deep, guttural growl. “Because I’m about to fucking ruin you.”
There’s no slow start-up this time. No gentle on-ramp. You jump straight back into screwing her brains out, and she ups the auditory ante with throatier moans and the addition of small squeals. She wasn’t holding herself back anymore, and neither were you. Grunts and groans hiss between your teeth as you absolutely ravage her, her inner walls once again doing an incredible job of working you over.
“Aaaaaaaah! Haah-aaah-ha-aaaaaaah!”
Try as she might, she can’t keep her hindlegs locked around you under the onslaught, and as they release their pressure, it gives you greater latitude to pull back even further on your strokes. Her forelegs busied themselves with pawing helplessly against the bedsheets, and her head remained thrown back, twisting left and right under your assault.
But she wasn’t done surprising you yet. On one of your rewarding deep thrusts, she squeezed and held you in place for a lot longer than usual. At the same time, her hindlegs once again locked around your back, but this time for the sake of leverage: with a little burst of strength, she pulled the rest of her body up and pressed it against yours, her forelegs wrapping around your torso to hold her in place as her head laid against your chest. Reflexively, one of your thigh-gripping hands comes up to steady her, holding onto her back.
“Haah... aaah... I... I hate you,” she murmured in perhaps the greatest, most erotic bedroom voice you’ve heard in recent memory. She pulls her head up to look you dead in the eyes, and the wild, desperate lust in her eyes both completely eclipsed her higher thought processes and perfectly complimented both her new tone and her heavy, needy breathing. “Making m-aaahh... m-me feel so...” She paused to give your cock a rough, milking squeeze, accompanied by a wiggle of her hips and a throaty giggle. “Goooood...”
No mortal man in your position could stop himself from groaning at a move like that, and you weren’t any exception. A defiant little glimmer appeared in her eyes upon hearing your own pleasure vocalized: she’d found a way to keep on fighting you in her own little way. Emboldened, she presses her nose against yours, getting close enough to share breath as she looks you dead in the eyes with a smirk that screamed ‘payback time’.
“Stop,” she ordered. “P-pull out.” Her hindlegs squeezed even tighter around you at her demand, preventing any such action.
Ohh, that’s her game, then?
“Nnngh... You little minx,” you grunt, the amusement in your tone laid on the rough gravel of your own primal needs. Going along with her little game, you make to pull out of her with a half-hearted effort, and are unsurprisingly not able to do so. For her part, Tempest lets out a breathy laugh at your efforts.
“So much f-for—ooooh, s-stopping when I s-said.” Her forelegs shift up, draping across your shoulders as she gives your member another long, rippling squeeze, successfully getting you to groan again. “C-cant believe you’d... aaah... d-do this to me,” she croons. “I knew you were awful, but...” She giggles despite her act, giving you another groan-worthy squeeze. “This takes the cake.” Another squeeze. “M-monster.” And another. “Rapist.” And another. “Scumbag.”
All right, Tempie. You get it. She wants her brains fucked out? She’s getting her brains fucked out.
A low, dangerous growl rumbles forth from you, and you can see the excitement light up in her eyes in response. That was all the warning she got before you all but jumped back onto the bed, pinning her beneath you. She barely has time to let out a shuddering gasp of delight before you start plowing her at full bore once again, both your arms and her legs clamping tightly around their respective partner’s bodies.
“Aaaaahn! I knew iiiiiit! Aaaah! A-haaaah! S-stooo-hyaaaah!”
“Nnngh... Grrrr... Not... urgh... happening...”
“D-dooon’t-haaaaah! A-aaah! S-stop!” She was really getting into this. “Nuh-n-nooooo... aaaaaah... Aaaa-hah-haaaah!”
Interspersed with her often times half-hearted pleas to stop were the loudest, lewdest noises she’s made so far. She’s way too into this for it to just be a little puppet-play act to fuck with you. No, this is 100% her fetish. Why does it not surprise you that Tempest is into rape play?
“Aaaaahhn! Nah-haaaah! Aaaaaaah! N-nooooh stop! Aah! I-I’ll kill you! Haaaaah! I’ll kill you in your sleep—Gyaaah! Ah-haaaaah...”
You smirk down at her. You knew her game. She knew you knew her game. Through all her false threats and insincere pleas to stop ravaging her, she was making the biggest ‘fuck me’ eyes that were equinely possible to make, promising to kill you in your sleep if you didn’t continue railing her to the point of complete retrograde amnesia.
Fortunately for her, Anonymous always delivers. But in the back of your mind, you get ready to make her nice and comfy for when the post-nut clarity hits her like a freight train; you could already tell she was gonna need the aftercare something fierce.
With her making full-body contact now, you could feel her cries and moans as much as you could hear them, and she could do the same with your steadily growing grunts and groans. You could hear and feel her breathing heavily against your neck, chin resting on your shoulder for support as she took in your scent as much as she took in fresh air. You were more than close enough to take in her own scent in turn: the faint, sweet, almost fruit-like smell that her sweat normally had, coupled with the heady scent of sex and that wonderful, distinctly feminine musk that made your lizard brain very happy and very aroused in equal measure.
But even a man like you has limits. And you were starting to near those limits, your breathing and groaning getting more ragged to show for it. Signs that Tempest picked right up on, weaving them into her act.
“Aaah, nnaah, aaaahh, n-noooh don’t, nnnghaaah, doooon’t, aaaah, pull oooout aaaaah-haaah!”
But two could play at that game. It hadn’t escaped your notice, how close she was, too. Close enough for a simultaneous finish? Only one way to find out.
As you brought Tempest panting and squealing towards her third climax of the night, she got ever more aggressive. Each rewarding mix-up thrust earned you a longer, more rhythmic clench, synchronized with a brief squeeze of her legs around you and a breathy, increasingly unconvincing plea to stop. As her edge crept even closer, she actually started biting your shoulder. It was all in service of milking a climax out of you, and Lawd have mercy, it was working. Your grunting and groaning was getting breathier and more strained to show for it, and she picked up on it like a shark smelling blood, intensifying her efforts to get you to blow the mother of all loads in her.
But that went both ways, too. Try as she might, her façade was cracking at the seams as she got closer to the edge, unable to maintain the flimsy illusion of being ravaged against her will. It took very little time for it to split down the middle with a hoarse, throaty moan, her hindlegs once again locking around you.
“Aaaaaaaahhhn! Haaaaah faster you aaanimaaal! Rut meeeaaaaaaahhh!”
Your chuckle hisses through your teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”
You do as she asks, picking up your speed, each deep plowing you delivered hitting the end of her line each time. You could’ve sworn that inner barrier of hers was giving your tip a kiss each time you bottomed out. Sweat beaded across both of your bodies, running down in small rivulets or flecking out onto the bed or each other from the impacts. The wet slaps of your brutal assault on her were never as loud or prominent as they were now, and the heady, hormonal cocktail of scents hanging in the air was at it’s absolute zenith.
And, of course, your climax was hanging on a knife’s edge.
“Grrrh... Hnngh... Aaah...” You were breathing more than speaking at this point. “Here it comes, babe—”
The very second the words left your mouth, Tempest exploded. A loud moan, bordering on a scream, ripped forth from her throat as each of her legs locked tightly around you, pulling you in, keeping you in place as she held on for dear life. The splashing of her fluids against your groin was good in it’s own right, but the powerful milking of your cock was what finally did you in.
Everything now was pure instinct. In the moments where the telltale pleasure of your point of no return swelled within your body, you grabbed hold of Tempest, locking her down in turn, preventing any escape. Your grunts and breaths became deep, rough, almost animalistic as the sensation enveloped you. Finally, it too reached it’s zenith as you began cumming in earnest.
In the exact moment that the first jet fired out of you, Tempest’s half-scream blossomed into a full one, her ecstasy reaching it’s crescendo. In your sex-addled state, you could’ve sworn that your climax was audible. The second voluminous shot inside of her made her marehood clench hard, milking your length even more. It made the third shot that pulsed forth all the more intense.
“Guh... Fffuck...!”
On pure evolutionary autopilot, you continue filling her with a fourth blast. And a fifth. Sixth. Seventh. Eighth. It only dimly registers to you how backed up you must’ve been upon the ninth jet, your mind awash with the primal instinct to fertilize your chosen mate. The intensity and volume of your climax begins to fall at the tenth shot, and continues to plummet during the eleventh and twelfth. By the thirteenth throb, you had little more than a small spurt to offer to her thoroughly bred confines, and every throb thereafter delivered little more than a dribble: mere aftershocks following that biological 8.9 on the Richter scale.
It’s only at the tail end that you become more and more aware of yourself and your surroundings, no longer tunnel-visioned into attempting to reproduce with the mare in your grasp. Your breathing was hard and ragged, and your limbs were trembling with exertion, sweat pouring from your pores and running down your body. Your partner was in much the same state, her voice having gone hoarse from her climactic scream. You’ve enough presence of mind to roll to your side and onto your back, taking her with you and ensuring you don’t crush your mare under your weight once the endorphins were out of your system.
Without a doubt, that was the best sex you think you’ve ever had. And you know for a fact it was the best she’s ever had, too. And that knowledge brought with it that small bloom of pride and satisfaction.
Man, mares are somethin’ else.
As you come down from your climax and settle into the warm caress of the afterglow, you still remember that you’ve got a job to do: caring for your girl after the fact. Already, your relaxed hands were gently pulling the sweaty, still-shivering mare’s head against you, lavishing her neck with some much-needed petting. And just in time, too: the pleasured, far-away look in her eyes was indeed fading now, but was replaced not with clarity like you expected, but sadness.
Uh-oh. Post-nut depression, huh? This is gonna be rough.
“Why?” she murmured.
The tears were already starting to well in her eyes. One hand starts gently stroking her head, but it’s not nearly enough to stem the tide to come. Nor is it meant to.
“Why did it have to be you?” she wept, her eyes screwing shut as she started to cry.
All traces of amusement are excised from you. Your shitting and giggling fit in almost all situations, but this was one of the few exceptions.
“How could I let this happen? How could I let you do this to me?” She was starting to shout now, anger finding it’s way into her expressions of guilt, sadness, and more than a little bit of self-loathing. “Why did you have to figure me out?! Wh-why did...” A choked sob cut her words off, and she opens her watery eyes to look at you next. “Why did the best sex of my life have to be with you?!”
She feebly tries to pull away from your hands, but you don’t let her. You keep her nice and close, continuing to gently stroke her head as it rests just shy of your neck, all while she sobs to herself.
“Shhhh. It’s all right.”
She cursed you in between her cries, blaming you for her own feelings and everything that happened. As she went on, she started blaming herself for feeling the way she did. Eventually, however, she kept her blaming to herself, falling silent and weeping softly against your chest. You offer no retorts or comebacks. Just gentle, soft-spoken reassurances, and the continuing comfort of holding her close and stroking her head and neck.
As she calms down, she starts softly nuzzling against your chest. A wordless thanks for your efforts, and a silent plea to keep going. She doesn’t say a word, nor look at you. Her breathing quiets and she starts to go slack: she was totally drained, physically and emotionally, and she began slipping into sleep as she relaxed. Even as she finally lost consciousness, you didn’t stop stroking her.
Whether you kept going or not once you also got lost in the land of dreams is just one of life’s many unanswered mysteries.
Author's Note
Continues directly after the last chapter; no additional reading necessary.
Under the Waves
beep-beep-beep-beep
beep-beep-beep-beep
beep-beep-beep-beep
fzzzZZZAP
BOOM
You raise an eyebrow down at Tempest, a few errant sparks leaving her horn from the nuking she just delivered to your beeping projection clock. Well, formerly beeping, anyhow.
“I guess hitting the snooze button is just too pedestrian?” you question with a deeply amused grin.
She grumbles in response, refusing to meet your gaze and instead rubbing her cheek against your chest for the umpteenth time now.
“Fair enough,” you laugh.
It’s now been ten minutes since you told yourself you’d only spend five more minutes in bed, petting and scratching Tempest all the while. But at this point, even she was starting to lose interest in being pampered like this. Still, it was a good run.
“Well,” you hum, idly stroking her neck, her mane running through your fingers, “About time we got up, methinks.”
“Yeah,” she semi-reluctantly admits, seriousness beginning to creep into her expression and tone. “Y-yes. I-I’ve wasted enough time here.”
“Aww, c’mon! Time spent with me is time that’s never wasted, Tempie!”
“I beg to differ,” she grumbles.
Your eyes lid and your smirk turns suggestive. “Yeah? Like you begged last night?”
Her eyes widen briefly, her features twisting into a teeth-bared scowl soon afterwards.
“Tell anypony about last night, and they’ll never find your body,” she hissed, ears flattened and pink tinting her cheeks as she glares at you with narrowed eyes. “Do you understand?”
“Sheesh, will you settle down, babe?” She emits a semi-pleased grunt when you knead her shoulders, but doesn’t stop glaring. “I’m a consummate master at keeping secrets!”
“You’d better be,” she huffs, averting her eyes in adorable fashion. “A-and stop calling me that.”
“In public? Sure. Whatever makes ‘ya look tough.” You fix her with that +2 smirk of smuggery. “In private? No chance in hell, cutie pie.”
“Do...?” Through her exasperated blushing, she pulls herself up just enough to loom over your head, both front hooves planted on your shoulders. “Do you want me to kill you?”
“I want you to try, babe.” No retreat. No surrender.
She lets out a curt, frustrated snort. “F-forget this. I’m leaving.”
She sure tries to, but only gets as far as climbing off of you and turning to face the door before she stops with a small squeak, held fast by your hand grabbing hold of her tail.
“Where do you think you’re going?” you hum, a shit-eating grin playing across your lips.
“Far away from you,” she huffs, glaring back at you. “Let go of me!”
You raise an eyebrow. Your eyes unlock from hers and drift towards her rump. Your grin becomes toothy and knowing as you lift her tail a little to observe the damage, and it only grows wider when you knowingly flick your eyes back to her a couple of times, realization dawning on her face along with a look of muted horror and embarrassment.
“H-how bad is it?” she murmurs, one of her hindlegs lifting in that impossibly adorable fashion.
“If you think it looks bad, just imagine the smell,” you chuckle, a note of pride in your tone.
Breaking up the sticky carnal warzone that was her hindquarters was a quick little wink, her vaguely heart-shaped nub poking out like a soldier from the trenches. And it brought with it a small droplet of your mixed fluids, still moisturized by virtue of taking shelter in her wondrous depths, clinging to her vulva before a follow-up wink added enough extra liquid for the drop to fall onto the ruined bedsheets beneath her.
“Oh, no,” she murmurs, reflexively trying to pin her tail down to cover her mare bits. “I-I can’t go out like this!”
“Not an exhibitionist, I take it?” you hum.
“Shut up! This is serious!”
“So was I.” With a light chuckle, you push yourself up until you’re sitting upright. “Aww, don’t stress, babe. There’s an easy solution for this.”
She exhales. “Your shower. Just... let me go, and I’ll handle this.”
“No fuckin’ chance, Tempie.” She lets out a small gasp when your free hand comes up to palm her cutie mark, quickly shifting to squeezing her rump.
“Y-you can’t be serious!” She couldn’t decide if she was into the idea of a round 2, or just hated it. “Sweet Celestia, you’re insatiable!”
“I know you are, but what am I?”
“Argh!” She tries in vain to pull away from you, stopped once again by your tail-pulling hand. “No, no! Once was enough for me! Just let me clean up and leave!”
“I was getting to that, Jesus. Settle down.” With a playful roll of your eyes, and a corresponding annoyed snort from her, you continue. “It’s like you don’t want me to tell you the secret of how I won last night.”
There we go. Now she’s paying attention.
“What secret?” she demands with narrowed eyes.
“C’mon, you really thought I recovered that fast on my own last night? Get real.” You laugh. “I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker. I used some of my... secret stash to recover nice n’ quick.”
“Of course you have some secret way to recover fast,” she huffs.
“Mighty important, too, seeing how we set out to pillage n’ plunder tomorrow.”
A-hah, now you really have her attention.
“Anon,” she begins, a dangerous edge to her voice. “You’d better be in a sharing mood, because so help me—!”
“Babe, I was gonna share it from the get-go.” You waggle your eyebrows at her. “And throw in plenty of TLC while I’m at it.”
A truly impressive annoyed sigh escapes her as she shuffles in place slightly. “You won’t share it until you’ve had your way with me again, will you?”
“You make it sound so transactional, Tempie.” Her ears lower a little upon seeing your lascivious smirk. “You needed that roll in the hay bad, and we both know it.”
She looks away with a bright red blush, and you could see her biting her lip. “B-be that as it may, I-I don’t want to do this again.”
“Liar.”
She winks more forcefully against the open air.
“C’mon, Tempie. We’re way past the point of doing this cutesy denial shit. You loved getting pounded like that. And for my part, I loved pounding you in turn. And frankly, a smokin’ hot tamale like you deserves that kind of lovin’, wouldn’t you agree?”
One of her front forelegs joins the hindleg in lifting up in similarly adorable fashion. She still won’t meet your gaze.
“You want more. I want more. And I’d love to make you feel that good for a second time.”
Another forceful wink follows your words, coupled with her swallowing dry.
“So how about it, Tempie? We head to my tub, wash up for a bit, make a little love, and relax for a beat. And that’s with the extra TLC I promised ‘ya. You get what you want, I get what I want. A nice, mutually beneficial arrangement. And a fun one, at that! Not a bad deal, huh?”
Desire and practicality wars with her stubborn pride in her eyes and expression. At one point, she screws her eyes shut and lightly grits her teeth as she has her internal debate. But eventually—fortunately—she caves.
derpi 1480469 // poner 1480469 // twi 1168644 // pony 577135
“F-fine.” Both her foreleg and hindleg raise even higher in that adorable pony way as she looks back at you with half-opened eyes, caught between reluctant, embarrassed, and needy. “Y-you win this time.”
A rapid series of winks accompanies her answer, and you smile at both the sight and said answer.
“Attagirl,” you chuckle.
You release her tail and flank, and she’s quick to hop down off of the bed, staying put as she waits for you to stand up yourself. You only pause to stretch, savouring all the nice little cracks and pops.
“Sweet Celestia, what am I doing?” she groans despondently. “I can’t believe I just agreed to this!”
“Strange bedfellows indeed, eh?” You pat her flank with a cheeky smile before beginning your walk. “C’mon.”
Grumbling under her breath, she follows after you as you make your way to the bathroom. But you don’t hear the telltale sounds of hooves clopping against tile once you enter, prompting you to look back and catch sight of Tempest looking at your amazing bathroom with wide, disbelieving eyes.
“You... you use this?” she murmurs, mouth slightly agape.
“Oh right, you’ve never seen this part’a my place before, huh?” You smile back at her, shooting her a wink. “Not quite big enough to play baseball in, but it does have the king-sized tub big enough for ten-plus-me.”
As the sight settles in, and she remembers why she’s here, she starts to look downright indignant as she steps inside, shutting the door behind her. “How did you even get all of this?”
You shrug. “Stole most of it from Mt. Aris. From Queen Novo’s place in particular.” A small cackle. “Now that was a fun invasion. You should’ve been there!”
“Could’ve sworn that one failed.”
“I’ll admit, they did get away with their pearl. But it wouldn’t have worked out for the King anyways.” You turn the taps on at full tilt, flicking on the automatic soap dispenser right next to it to get the water foamy and ready for a nice deep clean. You beckon her over with two fingers. “Hop in.”
Slowly and cautiously, she trots over towards the bath, using the pony-sized steps—hippogriff-sized, really—that you never used to get inside, her hooves splashing into the growing pool of water. She stands there facing towards you as the tub fills, refusing to meet your eyes while a light pink tint colours her cheeks, her tail flicking every now and then.
“S-so. Uh.” Jesus Christ she’s adorable when she’s nervous like this. “H-how are we doing this?”
“First, we’re cleaning up.” You give a semi-faux-grimace as you lightly scratch your gross, sticky nuts. “I know I’m not the only one who wants this shit off of me.”
“No kidding.”
You shut the taps and soap off once the water reaches about two-thirds up your ankle in depth, reaching over the bath to grab the brushes, sponges, and small buckets you’d need. You don’t, however, bring out the shampoo for her: that can come once the regen soak happens. Right now, you just wanted to make a first pass, and clean most of the gross shit off right now so you weren’t marinading in it during the soak.
With cleaning shit in hand, the bathing begins in earnest. You, of course, start with Tempest. She was obviously reluctant to let you clean her off, but all protests vanished once you started. She laid down in the water, immersing half of her body into it. Where the water couldn’t reach, you bucketed it on up to where it needed to be, starting with her barrel and working up to her head. In typical adorable Tempest fashion, she tried to stifle her coos as much as possible when you started scrubbing her down. Already, a layer of dirt and other nastiness was coming out of her coat: a very good start. Once you finished with her head, hosing it off with the pull-out showerhead to keep the soap out of her eyes, she stands up on your request, letting you work on her underside next, starting with her legs. She, of course, tensed up a bit when you got to her hindquarters last, but relaxed when all you did was scrub her flanks and sponge clean her mare bits. Though the occasional winking told you she wouldn’t have minded a bit more than just cleaning, even if she’d have vehemently denied it in that adorable tsundere kind of way.
Patience, boner. Your time is soon. Very soon.
Once she was hosed off, you started on yourself next. As expected, she had no desire to reciprocate the bathing, only occasionally giving you the showerhead when you asked for it. But she did look awfully hard when you got to cleaning your man bits.
“See anything you like?” you remark oh-so-smugly, not looking away from your work.
You hear her turn away with a small huff more than you see it from the corner of your eye. “Sh-shut up.”
One of the bath’s other amazing features kicks in: the magic heater crystals. They radiate like Earthling-issue electric quartz units, keeping the two of you nice, warm, and shiver-free as you both stand soaking wet in the shallow water. Have you mentioned yet how much you love this tub? Because you fucking love this tub.
“W-well?” Tempest kept looking away as she spoke in a tone more nervous than it was annoyed, her foreleg rubbing the other one in similarly nervous fashion all the while. “Wh-what now?”
“What now, indeed?” you hum mischievously. “What do you want to do now, babe?”
“S-stop calling me that.”
“No.”
“Tailhole,” she mutters.
Her eyes flick back to you. More specifically, your crotch. Her eyes flick between Nonny Jr. and not Nonny Jr. several times before she starts gazing at your package outright, an aroused blush tinting her cheeks as her tail flicks and her clitoris begins winking out again, making it’s proper appearance. In response to the peep show, your boner steadily rises to full mast, making her swallow dry when it reaches it’s gently twitching apex.
“A-are we doing this, or not?” she huffs.
You smirk at her. “Are we?”
She half-groans, half-grumbles. “Don’t play these stupid games, Anon!” she huffs, an undercurrent of need in her voice. “I already said we were going to do this!”
Said smirk widens. “Do what, babe?”
She grumbles under her breath, knowing you’re fully intent on fucking with her a bit before actually fucking her. “F-fine. Let me spell it out for you.”
Fully turning her rear towards you, Tempest slowly and somewhat nervously presents herself to you. Her hindlegs spread apart and tense, locking into place, ready to take a pounding. Her tail was well and truly out of the way. Her marehood was starting to leak, her still-winking nub greatly aiding the egress of her fluids. And though she tried not to lower the front of her body, the position made it inevitable that she’d ‘kneel’ at least a little bit.
“Get over here,” she breathes, “And rut me already.”
Well, that’s about as unambiguous as invitations go, ain’t it?
“All right, Tempie,” you chuckle, striding through the water towards her. “I get the message.”
You kneel down behind her once you’re close enough, reaching just about the right height to plow her without needing to fetch something for her to stand on. Your hands are the first thing to make contact with that delectable derrière of hers, softly kneading her cutie marks and drawing a small hum out of her. Your dick comes up next, and she shivers as it prods against her rump, biting back a small whine even as it completely misses it’s mark. Her clit winks rapidly shortly after feeling it’s missed landing, as if beckoning it over. Smiling, you drag your tip along her rump and towards her honeypot, your refusal to use your hands to aid alignment making it a lot more imprecise on purpose, much to Tempest’s not-so-hidden chagrin. Eventually, however, head and nub finally come together, sharing a nice, wet kiss with one another. Tempest groans at the contact, insistently pushing her rump out just a little further.
“Enough,” she croaks. “J-just put it in, already.”
You hum your assent, gently pressing your head against her entrance for a moment, as if looking for the right spot to enter. Little did she know, however, you weren’t done fucking with her yet. She tenses a little more when she feels you pull back and prod her a few more times, as if getting ready to take the plunge instead of just spearing her like before. Finally, you pull back and thrust forward...
“Aaaaah...!”
And completely miss her marehood, sliding along her underbelly and sandwiching your dick between her teats as her rump nestles against your belly.
“Actually,” you hum, your shit-eating grin practically audible at this point, “There was something else I wanted to ask first.”
“Wha... what are you doing?!” Oh, she did not like getting blue-beaned like that. “Stop teasing me, you bastard!”
“I’m not teasing, I’m serious!” You protest very unconvincingly.
“Aaaaaugh! I already said yes!” she groaned, winking against your lower stomach. “Or is that not enough for you?”
“Mmmmm...” You shift to rubbing her legs and thighs, grinning down at her. “Did’ja enjoy last night, babe?”
“Anon, you tailhole!” she hisses, grinding her rump against you. “Will you just rut me already?!”
“Yeah, yeah, in a moment. Once you answer my—”
“Yes!” she finally admits. “Yes, I liked it, okay?! I hate that I liked it, but I did! There! Are you done?”
You raise an eyebrow. “You hated liking it?”
Her groan of frustration was mixed in with a needy whine. “Anon, please.”
Rolling your eyes, one of your rubbing hands slides along her rump, in between your ongoing bump-n’-grind, and finds her marehood. The middle finger glides between her folds and quickly zeroes in on her nub, and she lets out a shaky little gasp when you start rubbing it in circles. “Partial credit,” you hum. “C’mon, let’s hear it.”
“You!” she blurts, continuing the admission train. “It’s because it was you! Aaagh, I hate you so much! You weren’t supposed to beat me in that fight! You weren’t supposed to beat me again! You weren’t...” She pauses for a moment, sniffling a bit. When she looks back at you, her eyes were a bit misty. “You weren’t supposed to make me feel so good. So wanted. So special.”
Aawwww. Your touching stops upon hearing those words.
She turns her head away, getting a grip on herself again. The sigh that leaves her sounds more like an embittered laugh. “Sweet Celestia, what a joke. Nopony even gives me the time of day. All my old coltfriends were awful ponies. And then there’s you, the evil tailhole. You’re not even a pony. And you still make me feel like a million bits, even when you force yourself on me.” Another sniffle. “I just know they’d all laugh at me for this.”
“Let ‘em laugh,” you chuckle. “We’ll see who’s laughing once we take over Equestria.”
Despite her state, she manages a small laugh. If there was a way to frame such amazing sounds on your wall, you’d have done it in triplicate by now. “W-were you trying to make me feel better?”
You smirk. “Did it work?”
A small bark of saddened yet cathartic laughter escapes her. “Y-yeah. Yeah, it did.”
“Then my job is half-done!” you chirp.
There’s that familiar annoyed hum. The grinding and winking followed soon after, and her next hum had a needy, erotic undertone to match. “Anon, please. D-don’t make me wait anymore.”
With a self-satisfied hum, you finally pull away from her, your little trooper momentarily saddened by his departure from Casa de Teata. He changes his tune, however, once he’s rubbing and prodding against Tempest’s folds for the second time, her eager little nub already peppering Jr’s head with kisses and guiding it into place.
“Yesss...” she coos. “Finally...”
Yeah, you agree: she’s waited long enough. Pausing only to let her fully present and brace her hindlegs, you begin your push inside of her, thoroughly enjoying the sensations and sounds of your purple partner. Your hips connect after only a second and change, and her body was quick to reward you again with that familiar, wonderful clench.
Man, you could get used to this.
“Aaaah... Hah...” Especially those moans of hers. Sweet music to your ears. “Ha-hey, A-Anon?”
“Nngh, yeah?”
“Duh-don’t hold back, please. J-just... ahn... r-rut me.”
No man with a pulse can resist an invitation like that. With a sensual, almost threatening chuckle, your hands find their way back to her thighs, grabbing hold for what’s to come. Tempest was already tightening up in anticipation.
“Your wish is my command,” you growl.
She only manages a single breathy bark of laughter before the thrusting begins in earnest, making her moan out loud again. Despite her request, you do start off a little slower, getting a brief feel for those silky, muscular insides of hers again before your speed would drown the finer details out. You only need a couple of seconds for that, though, and she certainly didn’t complain either way.
Tempest’s forelegs stretch forward further as she lowers her front half even more, presenting more of that amazing rump of hers to you. Her head lowers between said forelegs in turn, and she pants and vocalizes her pleasure all the while. The main thing bracing her against you were her hindlegs, but even by themselves, they were plenty strong enough to take you. Even though you’ve really only just started, the change in position to something more natural for a pony revealed to you a rising star of the performance: her clit. That nub of hers slid along the underside of your cock, as if perfectly aligned with the ridge of your urethra: riding it like a train on a track. With every hilt and stir you delivered to her, it winked out to give your nuts a lascivious, lingering kiss: like it was asking your boys to put in the overtime and work up a nice, extra large load for her.
Still prefer takin’ her missionary, but fuck was pony style a close second.
“Aaahn... Haaa-oooooh... Y-yesssss... Aaaaaah... Nngh, r-right there... Oooooohh...!”
Every technique and sensitive spot you’d learned about the last night applied here: she still loved getting ground against and stirred up, she still loved your tip kissing her innermost barrier, and she still loved it when you brushed against that extra-sensitive spot of hers, even if it was a bit trickier to reach from this angle and position. In turn, every squeeze and clench she gave back was just as good as it was before. To your delight, she developed her own way of periodically rewarding you: every so often, she’d reciprocate one of your hilting mix-ups with a prolonged, rippling squeeze, recreating the milking sensation that came naturally from her own orgasms. The cherry on top was the mischievous little smirk she’d give you every time she did it: a wordless tease, and an invitation to keep pounding her for more squeezes just like it, knowing full well how pleasant and addictive they were.
You can’t even be mad. Just last night, she was totally unsure of her own sexual prowess: hardly surprising, given how shit her previous partners obviously were. Now that you were showing her what a good time really was, she was really starting to come into it.
That wasn’t all she was coming into, though. The deeper, more ragged breaths she was making, combined with her tighter, more insistent squeezing, heralded her approaching climax. Issue is, as great as she’s been so far, you’re not as close as she is: not enough to guarantee the simultaneous finish that you’d prefer.
“Aaaaah! Aaah, aaaaaah, haaaah, oooooooh, f-faster! Ooooh my gosh, keep going!”
Not one to deny her request, you pick up your pace, hurtling her even closer to the finish line and hoping it’d do the same for you, too.
“Haaah! Yes! Aa-aaaah, yesss, yes-yes-yes—Aaaaaahn! M-more!”
Dear God almighty she was pushing every damn button you had. The wet, lewd sounds of your intense lovemaking and the sugar-sweet sounds of her vocalizations rang out through the bathroom as you railed her full-force, giving her everything you had. You race towards your own finish line, grunting and groaning as you got closer, the speed and intensity doing wonders to accelerate your approach.
It all comes to a stop, however, when Tempest’s dam breaks first, her tunnel sealing you in and leaving you stranded just before the finish line.
“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
The rippling, milking ministrations of her passage tries it’s very best to extract the seed it was promised, but it’s still not enough, leaving you teetering on the very edge. Her fluids spurt forth from your connecting point, coating your groin, running in rivulets down both your legs and dripping into the bath water below. She ground roughly, desperately against you all the while, angled just so her clit could press as hard as it could against the underside of your cock, trying to feel it’s rhythmic, pulsing expansions as you shot your load in her. A load, sadly, that didn’t come. And she definitely noticed, too: especially as she came down from her high.
A questioning, slightly concerned look weaved into her delighted expression as she looked back at you. Her mouth opened, a question right on the tip of her tongue. But she stops short. She must have seen your tight, clenched expression for what it was: a warning sign of your near-release, bordering on denial. In that moment, a wicked little smile played across her lips, fresh hunger welling in her eyes.
Her inner muscles clamp right back down around you, preventing your escape. That hair-raising bedroom voice comes out in full force as she lets out a devious chuckle, especially at the tense grunt that came out of your mouth when she clenched.
“Such a gentlecolt,” she coos, “Letting me finish first.”
“Guh...!”
“What’s the matter?” A shuddering groan left your lips as she started milking your cock. Only for a second: not enough to finish you off, but enough to keep you on the edge. And she knew it. “Feeling left out?”
“Urgh! H-heh, so—Ah!” Another milking. “Ffffuck. Th-this your way of—Aaah!” And another. “G-getting me back, huh?”
“And what if it was?” She ground against you for this rippling clench, pressing her clit against you like she’d done before. Giving away to you how much she wanted this, too. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Hah-aaah!” Fuck, that one was well-timed. “Whoo. All right.” You grab her tail by the base and grind yourself against her as well, drawing a small coo of delight from her. “That how we’re playing?”
“Ooooh...” That teasing little smirk of hers was out in full force now, and you answer it with a strained yet still wicked grin.
Though you couldn’t thrust into her, you could still stir her up and grind against her. One of her forelegs lifts up as she moans, sighs, and shudders her approval at your actions, but that teasing little grin remained on her, and she kept up the periodic squeezes to keep you as close to the brink as she could. She winked insistently against you with each throb you made inside her, and she ground her clit harder against the ridge of your cock each time she felt a small pulse of pre travel down it’s length, briefly confusing it for the full ejaculate experience.
It was hard for her to keep the appearance up, however: she wanted you to bust in her bad, and you wanted to fill her even more.
“Aaaah... Ooooh...” She paused to bite her lip a little, giving you an especially protracted milking. “Ohhh gosh...”
“Rrgh...” You squeeze and knead her rump with your free hand, the other hand gripping her tail shifting so you can press your thumb against her dock. “Where... nngh... do you want it?”
“Haaah...” She clenched insistently at your words, winking in rapid succession. “Insiiide,” she moans.
That was it. The milking and winking was already on track to keep you edged again, but that fucking bedroom voice appealing to your primeval breeding instincts gave you that final push. Your groans and breathing become low and ragged and you start throbbing especially hard in her as you teeter past the point of no return, your teeth gritting and nuts pulling taut as that torturous pre-orgasmic wave of strained, almost painful pleasure washes over you.
She knew immediately what was happening, and acted accordingly. She shoved her rump against you as hard as she could, trying to get as much of you in her as possible. She clamped hard around you, trying to form as tight a seal as possible. And of course, she milked your length like there was no tomorrow and needily ground her nub against your ridge. Her body worked hard for you, eagerly beckoning and welcoming the seed it was denied before.
A strained groan hisses through your teeth as you fire the first blast inside her, bringing with it a wave of indescribable relief. Tempest cried out in surprise and delight when she felt the hard throb of cum firing through your length, and she emitted an unrestrained moan when she second jet fired into her next, intensifying her milking as much as she possibly could to get even more. And boy, did she ever get more.
Your mind is awash with a tsunami of dopamine and endorphins as you cum hard inside of her, all neurons and pleasure centres firing on all cylinders. While your thinking brain is distracted, your lizard brain feeds you with small mental images to fan your flames even more, rewarding your efforts. Images of Tempest laid out on your bed, cum leaking out of her overstuffed marehood. Images of her provocatively rubbing her belly as she looks up at you with lidded eyes and a little lip bite. Images of Tempest pregnant with your kids, beckoning you for another round.
It’s the latter images that become especially frequent as you ride out the latter half of your orgasm. Three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine intense blasts of cum rocket out of you, direct depositing in Tempest’s more than welcoming depths, each pulse drawing a throaty little groan of delight from her. The intensity and volume falls off a cliff by shot ten, but she still clenches around you all the same, even after the final, dribbling eleventh shot into her. One, two, three empty throbs pass before she realizes you’re completely spent, and only then does her clenching let up.
The foreleg she’d previously raised splashes back down into the water, trading places with it’s partner as both tremble from the intense experience. Even though she hadn’t come close to cumming for a second time, she still thoroughly enjoyed feeling you finish inside of her. The smiling look of satisfaction on her face could class as a reward all unto itself.
You soften to around half-mast inside her by the time you’re fully back in the land of the living, with Tempest continuing to keep her eyes closed, still savouring how your load felt in her. At least, you’re pretty sure that’s what she was savouring. She stirs when both of your hands slide back to her rump and begin softly kneading her cutie marks, prompting her to look back at you. A twinge of annoyance worked into her satisfied look, before uncertainty and more than a little nervousness replaced it, making her look away with a nervous little lip bite.
“Okay,” she sighs. “Y-you were right. I needed that.”
Your turn to let out a pleasant sigh. “That, you did.” You flash her a small smile. “Enjoy yourself?”
She swallows dry, somewhat nervous about admitting the truth. “I... Y-yeah. Yeah, I did.”
Your chuckle is good-natured for once as you gently pat her flanks, right on the cutie marks. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Your half-softened cock finally pulls free from her with a soft, wet pop, glazed with your mixed fluids. A soft, almost disappointed groan leaves her when you finally pull out, and a small glob of white leaks down her labia and drips into the water below, joined by a few more when she winks against the open air, further coating her clit as it’s motions push more of your cum out of her.
You look on at the sight with a note of pride, and Tempest looks between you and her rump in turn, lifting her hindleg in that adorable pony way to get a better look at the carnal carnage. A light, rosy blush coloured her cheeks as she looked, her expression satisfied yet still somewhat embarrassed. Until her eyes widen with a light gasp, and she turns her head away with a small ‘humph’, lowers her leg, clears her throat, and blocks the view of her still-tantalizing rear with her tail.
“W-well. You’ve had your fun.” Hah. She’s trying so hard to go back to hating you, but just can’t quite hack it. “Now, you said you were going to share that secret?”
“And I will.” Grabbing a sponge, you wet it in the water below, and draw a half-hearted offended gasp from Tempest when your free hand grasps the base of her tail and lifts it out of the way. “Once we’re clean again.”
“S-seriously?!”
You raise an eyebrow in response, a shit-eating smirk playing across your lips. “You really wanna marinate in our juices while my secret weapon does it’s work?”
You don’t know what god decided to give ponies the ability to scrunch their noses like that, but it’s the cutest fucking thing in the entire world. She turns away with an annoyed huff, scrunching her nose just so. “F-fine.” Her tail relaxes and lifts of it’s own volition, freeing your hand up as you start sponging her hindquarters in earnest. “Spray me down while you’re back there.”
With an amused chuckle, said free hand grabs a showerhead and turns it on, hosing her amazing rear end down in short order. She angles her rump to try and catch the spray on her vulva, her opening occasionally winking out to expose yet more of your cum: no longer just oozing out of her, but actively being pushed out. Smirking at the sight, you change the angle to spray down her tail, parallel to her mare bits, making her groan in annoyance.
“Tailhole,” she mutters, looking back at you with an increasingly believable glare. “C-clean me out.”
“After I worked so hard to put all that in you?” The smug smirk was in full force now. “What for?”
“Because it’s distracting,” she hisses, pushing her rump out again. “Hurry up, already!”
A faux-disappointed sigh leaves you. “Your wish is my command.”
Her back arches and she gasps as you drop the sponge and plunge your index and middle fingers into her marehood, reaching up to the knuckles in less than a second.
“What are you doing?!” she barks, though not without a note of arousal.
“Cleaning you out?” She gasps and shudders as your fingers curl inside her, forming the shape of a scoop. “Duh?”
“Aah! N-no, no! Use the shower head!”
“Nope,” you chirp, your fingers popping out of her with a good amount of spunk in their grasp. “Douching ain’t good for ‘ya, babe. And I’ll be damned if I let a fine piece like this,”—your fingers plunge back into her, drawing another shuddering gasp from her—“end up with problems down the line.”
“Aaargh, you’re insufferable!”
“Guilty as charged,” you hum-chuckle, repeating your au naturel cleanout all the while. “And you love it.”
“One of these days, I’m going to kill you,” she grumbles.
“You’d miss me too much,” you counter.
“In your dreams.”
“I never let my dreams be dreams, babe.”
“Stop calling me that!”
“Not now.” You scoop another load out of her. “Not later.” And another. “Not ever.” And another.
The annoyed groan she let out was heavily coloured by embarrassment and notes of arousal. “I hate you,” she croaks, absent any real vitriol.
“Love ‘ya too, babe,” you counter with a wink.
She falls silent as you finish cleaning her out, going back in for a couple extra pointless scoops just to spend that little bit of extra quality time. As much as your inner man liked the idea of seeing her walk around with your spunk leaking out of her, you understood the practicality of a deep-clean. Still, weird that she can actually feel it: you’re used to your same-species gal-pals only ever just feeling you cumming. Guess that’s another feather in the cap of marekind!
Once she was sprayed down and mostly clean again, it was your turn to sponge off and hose down your own bits. Tempest gazing sidelong at your package again definitely didn’t escape your notice, but this time you just pretend you didn’t see her ogling you. Finally, with both parties looking acceptable, you drain the nasty-ass water from the tub, hose down the sides, and start filling it back up, this time actually going above ankle depth this go-around. As you lean over the tub to fish around for your bath bombs, Tempest lays across one of the bench-like sections of the tub, tapping her hoof impatiently until the water reached her hooves and completely muffled her ability to tap.
“There we go,” you hum, spinning back to her with your prizes in arms. “You a dragon fruit fan, babe?”
“Are you going to show me the damn secret already?”
“This is the secret, babe.”
“I told you to stop... calling...?”
She trails off as you drop the bombs in, the regen one beginning it’s magic as soon as it hit the water. The flakes within and the matching gems in the walls start glowing blue, and even barely dissolved, you can already feel the effects kicking in. The water had begun to climb halfway up her body when you added the bombs, letting her bear witness to it’s power.
“Wh-whoa,” she gasps. “Th-that’s...! Ah-aaaaaaaaah...”
“See?” you sigh happily, sitting down and kicking back. “Told ‘ya to have patience, young grasshopper!”
She didn’t even acknowledge you, shuffling slightly closer to the convenient quadruped headrest near her little bench and resting her chin against it, comfortably keeping her breathing bits above water level. And speaking of water level, the taps automagically shut off once the bath was full, too: just another little extra thing that made you love this bath so very, very much.
Normally, you’d be content to just soak and relax for a while, as Tempest currently was with a tiny little smile. But you promised TLC, and Anonymous always delivers.
She hears you splashing through the water as you approach, but doesn’t react beyond keeping a semi-annoyed and curious eye on you. She tenses slightly when your underwater fingers brushes her similarly submerged body, but that tension soon evaporates once you start massaging her body in earnest. She lets out a stifled, teeth-gritted grunt as you start, but soon switches to letting out a pleased little sigh as her head relaxes and lays against her little headrest.
Stretching your muscles out in this tub was already a fantastic experience: you can only imagine what getting a massage in it feels like.
Well over halfway into your rub-down, however, you notice Tempest looking back at you with a worried but otherwise unreadable expression. You meet her eyes with a raised eyebrow, your motions continuing all the while.
“Something up?” you ask.
She opened her mouth to say something, but whatever she was about to say, she apparently thought better of, turning away from you with a noticeable degree of nervousness. “N-nothing.”
“You sure?”
“No. D-don’t worry about it. Just... keep going. Please?”
Something was obviously eating at her, but you’re not likely to get an answer out of her right now. So with a small shrug, you do as she so politely asks. You weren’t timing your massage with any degree of accuracy, but you figure you must’ve spent, oh, ten minutes or so working on her? But hey, the results speak for themselves: you don’t think you’ve seen her this relaxed, well ever.
“How’re we feelin’?”
That pleased, relaxed little hum was all the answer you needed. Satisfied with your work, you push away and grab the sponge, lathering it up and giving your arms and head a once-over before ducking under the water to rinse it all off. Once you were back up, you reach over the ledge to grab a bottle of shampoo, bringing it over to Tempest. Once again, she heard you coming, but this time she lifted her head as you got close, lifting her tail out of the water as much as she could while also presenting her mane to you. All the prompting you need to pop the bottle and get to work, starting on that tail of hers. Amazingly, she only winked once during the tail wash, and only when you got a little too touchy with her dock.
She hummed with delight as you worked on her mane next, cooing softly when your fingers dig into her scalp. It’s because of that reaction that you ended up working on her head for far longer than necessary, effectively turning it into an impromptu petting session. Not that she minded.
“H-hey,” she grunted. “E-explain something—aah, to me.”
“Mm-hmm?”
“How did you—nngh... get away with hiding this from the Storm King?” she half-moans as you continue shampooing her mane.
“What do you mean, ‘hiding’? The big ugly dipshit only has eyes for the ‘gold and plunder’ kinda treasure.”
“Unbelievable. I could have—aah! Just taken things for myself this whole time?”
“Aw, don’t sweat it. Tell ya what, I’ll give you first dibs on the loot at Canterlot. How’s that sound?”
“Sounds—mmnh... long overdue.”
“Now you’re talkin’.”
