An Affluent Zebra

The pair of outliers silently walk the long, elaborate halls, which maintain their poshly decorated interiors even unto the quiet guest quarters. Ronnie had expected her hooves to be louder on the tile, but she walks with a surprisingly soft step compared to his dress shoes, as if she doesn't wish to be heard.

Well, the hall itself may normally be quiet, but they're trying to ignore the less-than-silent, occupied rooms they pass, with wet clothes underarm. Eye contact is a little difficult at the moment, both staring forward.True to what Mister Banks forewarned, each shut door they walk by offers it's own audible, promiscuous tidbits. Muffled moans and giggles, even the creaking of beds can be subtly heard, helping keep a firm blush on Zharris' face as she avoids looking at Ronnie.

"How often does this sort of thing...?" Ronnie leans down, asking quietly.

"Every time." Zharris responds bluntly, hardly masking the groan that follows it.
"I'm usually in bed by this point."

"Not your kind of late-night activity?" Ronnie chides, enjoying the side-eye she flicks his way.

"...It's a lifestyle I'm not terrible partial to, but must reside uncomfortabley near due to the nature of my business. The upper echelon of Canterlot enjoy... alternative tastes. I'll survive."
It's a simple answer, preloaded by a long pause, betraying the calm tone of her voice. She's not comfortable with this kind of thing, clearly.

"Farasians don't do this kind of thing?" Ronnie asks, surprised.

"We do not have a system of nobility, tied to blood or wealth. We have elected officials, whose benefits come at the cost of responsibility." Zharris informs, glad for the distraction.
"What of Humans?"

"Our rich... do weird things, yeah. Judging by some of the sounds, I don't think you're the only one bunking with a human for the evening." Ronnie notes, swearing he recognizes one of the voices as they pass.
"I'm with you on this, though. Like I said, I'd rather get dinner sometime. I like to get to know who I'm cajoling with."

"As would I. I would still enjoy a meal after this, if you're willing. I doubt your station will be ready to leave by the morning, considering the size of the barrels I saw Mister Banks get pulled from his stores earlier... though why wait for the evening? Perhaps breakfast, or even lunch?" Zharris comments, finally managing to glance up at him as the conversation shifts.

"Absolutely." Ronnie smiles back. "Whichever we end up going for sounds fine by me, though getting breakfast in town sounds enjoyable. I doubt the other guests are going to be good company in the morning."

"You make a good point. I believe I know a nice, quaint Cafe that sits on the edge of the city, with a nice view of the surrounding plains."
A small smile finally breaks it's way onto Zharris' face as she looks forward again, walking closer to Ronnie as they continue to try and ignore their surroundings.

Zharris looks outright relieved when she finds the door she's looking for, muttering in relief under her breath, her pace doubling as she quickly enters. Ronnie barely gets through before she shuts it firmly behind them both, locking it tight. A large sigh escapes her, leaning against the closest wall.

It's a sizable room, just as fancy as the rest of the mansion. Well-carved wood furniture rounds out the place, offering a desk, a chair, dressers, and easily one of the most out of date, medieval-looking beds Ronnie has ever seen, straight out of some fantasy movie. Curtains drape from it, and it has more pillows organized about it than an entire neighborhoods worth. A thick, comfy carpet offers a pleasant underfoot feeling.

Ronnie carefully sets the rest of her dress down on the top of the closest dresser, before draping his wet clothes across the chair, hopefully to dry by the morning.

It doesn't take long for Zharris to join his side, lightly prodding at his leg for his attention. The good leg, thankfully. She's been especially cautious around his injury, something he's appreciative of.

"Would you help me out of my bathing suit? I could reach the zipper, but..." Her snout points to it. It's place a little awkwardly on her back, off-center. Probably so she can reach it with her mouth, but even still, doesn't look terribly comfortable to reach.

Ronnie leans down, placing a hand against her side as he tugs the zipper down. It takes a few tugs, but Ronnie tries to be careful around her fur.
"Zipper with fur is a... bold choice." He comments, raising a brow.

"I was in a rush to finish the outfit for the event, and hadn't quite figured a strap or button system for non-Abada's, or Unicorns, that didn't interfere with the dress part. Not my first choice, but..." Zharris trails off, trying her best to watch him, though she has to stop partway through, mumbling about a sore neck.
"Admittedly, I may have not thought ahead to this part, though I am glad to have your assistance."

"It's very well made, either way. It looks like something I'd see back on Earth -- you're very skilled, Zharris." Ronnie compliments -- better to say skilled than talented, even if she's a mix of both. It's clear she works hard on her projects, the way his words get one of Zharris' ears flicking.

"Thank you." She says warmly, shaking her herself loose as the zipper reaches her rear. She's especially wriggly around the rump, the bathing suit getting stuck on her back legs for... obvious, shapely reasons. An embarrassed glance-back from Zharris relays a request for assistance. As respectfully as he can, Ronnie tries to help tug and slip the suit off of the zebra, to varying degrees of success.

Through this, Ronnie discovers that Zharris has some surprisingly meaty thighs, giving a fair bit of squish under the pressure of his fingers. It's a comment he keeps to himself, as the suit finally slips off her and piles on the floor.

Zharris exhales loudly as she's freed, shaking her leg.
"Uh. Just a bit too tight. I need to re-measure myself..."

Somehow, it's less sensual seeing her 'naked' then when she was wearing her clothes. Funny thing, that.

"One too many of those sweet Canterlot treats?" Ronnie guesses, grinning as he steps back.

She gives him a look over her shoulder. It's playful, thankfully.
"... It's my cheat day. Don't give me grief me over it." She huffs, turning and grabbing her suit with her teeth, carrying it over to the chair, to find a spot to drape it over and dry, that isn't taken up by Ronnie's clothes.

"No complaints here." Ronnie raises his hands in surrender, turning away.

Now that he sees her beside it, the size of the furniture really comes back to him. It's all... small. Half-sized. Even the big, ye-olde bed doesn't seem that large compared to him. Not to mention, there's still an article of clothing of his that needs to be off and dried.

"So... Ponies and Zebra's and stuff are comfortable with nudity, right?" He asks vaugely, crossing his arms as he tries to think. He's kinda gotta get these off, but...

"Our natural state? We only wear outfits for status and events and such. A vast majority of Ponies, Zebra, and so on wear little more than an accessory or a hat, at the most. If you can't tell." She notes, glancing down at herself.

There's a small pause as she slowly looks back up. Her gaze, notably, pauses at the still-wet but now no-longer tenting unders that serve as Ronnie's only form of decency, no matter how badly they perform in that factor.

Which, under her newfound attention, slowly begins to resume it's previous state of 'tented'.

"I... see why you're asking." Zharris clears her throat. She's doing her best to be polite about it, but no matter what way she looks, her eyes don't follow.

"Would it make you uncomfortable?" He tries to ask, but Zharris' lips purse.
"I know it's basically eye level for you, but--"

"Ronnie, it's not hidden. At all. Just take them off before you catch a cold. I won't look." Zharris deflects, shaking her head.

"...Do you want me to wait until you stop looking, or...?"

"Sorry." Zharris shoves a hoof over her eyes, turning around.

"I mean, I don't mind the attention..." Ronnie mumbles, taking a moment to work them off. They, too, join the drying pile on the chair. He's still a little damp, but if he's lucky, his clothes won't be soaked in the morning.

Only problem now, is that he's alone with a pretty mare, in a small room, naked. Not really how he expected this evening to end. The day was full of surprises.

"Okay, now... clearly we can't have you walk around like that."

"Bit of a difference between our species staying in the buff?"

"Yours seems to let it stick out a little more than a stallions. Just, uh..." Zharris mutters, trying to think. And trying not to look.

"Just gimme one of the blankets and the pillow, I'll make do on the floor." Ronnie tries to offer -- no dice. Zharris looks almost offended by the idea.

"Enough with trying to sacrifice your sleep to make this less awkward. Just... get in the bed, Ronnie, and use the blanket to hide it." She finally nips his polite attempts in the bud, pointing at the awaiting mattress without looking.

"I'm not letting you take the floor, Zharris." Ronnie goes to object, finding Zharris in a moment of thought. She raises her head, resolute, if a little nervous.

"I won't be. Because I'll be joining you." She states firmly.

Ronnie blinks.

"Both of our species are quite socialized, and we... have an understanding of the others physical boundaries. I believe... sharing the bed for the evening would suffice. It seems large enough. Mostly."
She seems nervous as she asks, constantly side-eye glancing at him even as she tries to remain facing away. One of her hooves is idly tapping the floor, quiet only because of the carpet underneath.

She seems almost antsy awaiting any response from Ronnie, chewing her lip.

"Cuddle buddies?" Ronnie leers, stepping towards the bed.

"I-if you have to put such a term to it. Just leave me enough room, and we should be fine. We can put a pillow, or several between us if needed."

There's a quiet creaking as Ronnie climbs onto the bed, trying to get comfortable. Zharris is doing her best not to look, remaining resolute in her stoicism.

"Uh... small problem." Ronnie calls out.

"Is it covered?"

"Huh? Uh... yeah. Hold on."

More quiet shuffling.

"...Alright, that's about as hidden as he's getting."

"What is the... issue." Zharris finally turns, taking in the situation.

Ronnie takes up the entire bed. He's awkwardly twisted to the side, one leg tucked up to cover himself, even under the blankets, in an attempt to make some room for Zharris. Which, there is -- directly beside him, in a small pocket. They'd basically be cuddling the entire night.

"...Cuddle buddies was an apt description." Zharris groans, hoof to her face.

"If it's an issue, I can still --"

"Nope. Zip." Zharris makes a zipping motion across her lips. Undaunted, she leaps up onto the edge of the bed, joining him on the mattress. She's careful to step around his legs, lowering herself to fill what little space is left for her.

There's really not much room.

"Can you try to lay the other way?" She offers, face scrunched as she tries to find a balance between hanging off the edge of the bed, and being pressed up against him.

"Sure, let me..." Ronnie mumbles, trying to twist around.

"Careful."

"Trying to be. This blanket is heavy..."

"You're dropping pillows on me."

"Theres too many, anyway. Put some on the floor."

"I did. How many are there?!"

"Almost..."

"Wha-stop pushing me!"

"I'm not!"

"Your -- your rear! It's pushing me off!"

"If I try to lay like --"

"Alright, enough."

"I've almost..."

"Ronnie. Enough!"

"Huh?" He pauses, looking behind himself.

"Turn back over. We'll just stay close. I'd rather not wake up with a sore neck on the floor."

"You sure? I appreciate you rank me above the floor, at least."

"Yes. Just do it."

"Alright, just watch out, because..."

"..."

"...Alright, there we go. Easier that time."

"...Ronnie, what's poking my leg?"

"Ah, shit. Sorry. Let me just... tuck it... there we go."

Zharris clears her throat.

The best they could figure was, for all intents and purposes; spooning. You might think he could just lay flat or straight, but this was not a bed of convenience. A proper, well built bed meant for a good night's rest would allow that. Especially if it was actually to Ronnie's scale.

And as the pair notice, there are clasps in the headboard for... certain activities involving securing an individual in some form of restraint. No words are shared, only a mutual glance and the pursing of lips. The bed is built to be sturdy first, comfortable second.

The only way to make what little bed was left work, was to spoon. How convenient.

As for ways the night could have played out, neither admits that things honestly weren't that bad. Zharris was soft, Ronnie was warm. Both were respectful, and understanding. Not to mention, the underlying interest that continued to push their tolerance of the ever-ridiculous situation. They did have dinner planned, after all.

They just had to get through the night first.

"...Comfortable now?" Zharris asks over her shoulder. She's faced away, towards the edge of the bed, feeling the warmth from Ronnie's body against her back.

"Yeah. Can't promise I won't snore, but I can work with this. This isn't too much for you or anything, right?" Ronnie jokes, half expecting to wake up with a pillow over his face if he does. Feeling Zharris' fur against his underside, he certainly wouldn't be cold tonight. She's warm, if still a little damp, though that might be why she's got her back fully pressed up against him. The only downside was the awkward angle he was keeping his hips at, trying to keep... his obtrusive member tucked between his legs, but it would calm down soon enough. Probably. The difference in their height made that one a little easier, since she was higher up on the bed so she could reach the pillows. Downside, her mane was in his face. Thankfully, voluminous and soft, even after being wet.

Also a little damp.

"I am glad. Goodnight, Ronnie. Tonight was... interesting. I enjoyed your company. I doubt this event would have been as enjoyable without your companionship." She admits, shifting in the bed slightly.

"I'd have just stayed at that table and kept snacking if you didn't come say hi, so I appreciate that. Still on for breakfast or dinner or something tomorrow? Or are we going to awkwardly walk in two different directions, and pretend tonight never happened?"

"...I would like that."

"Pretending this didn't happen?"

Zharria snorts.
"No. I'd like breakfast. That sounds enjoyable."

The two lay in the dark, tucked under eccentric blankets, surrounded by too many pillows, both on the bed and on the floor, trying to move past the current situation by finding sleep early. What little light still carries between their curtains highlights the edges of Zharris form, though the light is slowly fading as proper night arrives.

Is this when one of the Princesses takes over, or something? Like, moves the moon? Are they focused on that all day, or do they just set it in motion? Ronnie had more questions, but they could wait. He didn't want to keep Zharris up.

... Though, while Zharris was comfortable to lay with, the bed... was not so. The mattress was stiff, and the pillows felt like they were for decoration.

Or biting, judging by the teeth marks a few inches from his face. Ronnie finds himself hoping the cleaners are thorough.

Unfortunately, the guests in the neighboring guest room didn't share that same goal of trying to enjoy an awkwardly close, quiet night. The shortly-lived quiet of the room is cut into by a sudden, muffled moan on the other side of the wall, and a rambunctious degree of creaking as they thud against the barrier between rooms.

"...They're really going at it, huh?" Ronnie jokes, lifting his head from the pillow and laughing to himself.

"Ronnie. Please." Zharris sighs, trying to dig her head further into hers. If she gets any deeper, she's gonna go through the mattress.

"...Hope the cleaning service is thorough." He snorts, vocalizing his musings, and Zharris groans loudly.

"Oh, do not... that is disgusting." Zharris grimaces, lip curling -- though the short snicker that escapes her doesn't get past Ronnie.
"Would you stop?" She grunts at him, before frowning at the wall.
"And would YOU quit it?" She nearly shouts.

No dice, the wall keeps thudding, the moans keep moaning, and the bed keeps creaking, all not quite as muffled as one would hope. Might have even had the opposite effect. Sounds like they're getting faster.

Ronnie settles back down, the two trying their best to ignore their neighbors.

Counting sheep... staring at the decorations on the wall. A nice painting of Mister Banks overlooking them while they sleep. Or try to. Or usually overlooking other activities.

What a promiscuous bunch.

Anyway, sleep.

...

It is not working.

Ronnie can feel Zharris take a deep breaths, her chest rising and falling heavily as she tries her own methods of forcing a slumber.

Given by how many times she sighs, they're in the same boat.

"Ronnie?" Her voice suddenly chimes in.

"Hm?" Ronnie hums, lifting his head.

"Still awake?"

"If I wasn't, I'd be surprised."

"Ronnie... might I ask you something?" Her tone is breathier than usual, and he can feel her tail flicking around under the blankets.

"Sure." He shrugs.

"Hold on..." She says quietly, nestling closer as she wriggles around, turning over so she's facing him. Her nose is nearly against his neck, her breath hot on his skin.

"What's bothering you?" Ronnie leans down, trying to get a better look. She seems... distracted, glancing away, mustering something.

Finally, she looks up at him, stopping her fidgeting. She braces herself, taking a long breath...

"...The Rhinoceros Beetle you spoke of. Is it as big as the Rhinoceros of our previous conversation, or is the only similarity it's name?" Zharris asks earnestly, perking up.

Ronnie does his best not to burst out laughing, but a smile still manages to slip its way through.
"...The name. They're no bigger than the palm of my hand, I think. A majority of bugs are pretty small. There's a few that can be kind of big, but not that big."

"Ah. I see." She nods, her gaze falling back down as she wriggles around to face away again. She pauses, looking at him again.
"And you don't know of any other kinds?"

"Not off the top of my head, no. I could try to get you a book about Earth bugs, if we can figure out how that whole process works." Ronnie instead offers.

"Thank you. I would cherish such a tome." She smiles softly, before a particularly loud smack from the other room turns it to a frown.

"Sure, Zharris. Goodnight." Ronnie sinks back into the bed.

"Goodnight."
She doesn't turn over, though. Still nestled against his chest, Ronnie can feel her crossed forearms as she leans against him, her slow, paced breath still against his skin. Her breath smells like one of those shrimp cupcakes she had earlier. It's a little odd, but not unpleasant.

He watches her fidget under the sheets, face making several expressions as she thinks to herself.

It doesn't take very long for her nose to pop back into Ronnie's view, garnering his attention again.

"Might I ask you something else?" Her voice alerts him, lifting his head again.

"More bugs?"

"Not... quite."

"Go for it."

"...This is somewhat miserable, is it not?"

"Kind of, yeah. This sucks."

"Not that you're a poor 'cuddle partner' or anything. I'm still shocked by how much heat you emit. But... my rear is hanging off the bed."

"Mine too, actually. Wanna make a floor fort?"

"You're not taking the floor, Ronnie." She tsks, getting tired of his polite offerings.

"No, like, both of us." He objects, sitting up and leaning on an elbow.

"Go on?" Zharris nods, curious.

"This bed is clearly not made for sleeping."

"Agreed."

"And I think if we pile up all the blankets, the pillows... we could probably sleep on the floor, instead. Comfier. More room."

"And we wouldn't have our heads right against the wall, nor listen to somepony get railed all night." She comments in a surprisingly crude choice of words, that only helps identify just how much she dislikes their predicament.
"This idea is sounding appealing. But... to assure our comfort, we should build such a fort to fit us comfortably, rather than waste material for sheer scale."

"Zharris... are you saying you still want to cuddle even if we're on the floor?"

"...Perhaps. You're warm." She mumbles, glancing away.

Aw. Ronnie can't help but grin, nudging her side.
"As are you. Alright, let's do it. Can't be worse than this. Actually, I'm surprised you agreed to this so quickly." Ronnie comments, swinging his legs over the bed.

"This bed is detestable." Zharris assures, starting to get up.

"What do you normally do when you visit one of Mister Banks events?" Ronnie asks, bunching up the top sheet as Zharris wriggles her way free, Ronnie standing up.

"Normally, I attend, make nice, and go...home. Early." Zharris' words slow, face growing redder, pausing in the midst of getting out of the bed.
"... Or I get a... hotel."

"...What?" Ronnie asks, craning his neck from behind the slowly piling bedding in his arms.

"Nothing." Zharris clears her throat, reaching for a pillow with her teeth, Ronnie stepping over to dump everything on the floor, and to start clearing some extra space.

Dresser, moved. They weren't using the bed, so anything on the floor that was cramping up some space became a target to be dragged beside it. Desk, chair... the Mister Banks painting was getting tucked away, too.

Zharris seemed to be distracted, watching Ronnie moving things -- every time he started moving furniture, her own pace of adding to the fort would slow significantly.

It doesn't take too long before they've got themselves a little setup on the floor. Several blankets and pillows to lay on, organized by the comfiest on top, all away from the offending wall, which now sports most of the furniture in the room pushed up against it. Ronnie's pretty proud of it, honestly.

Zharris still has a single pillow in her mouth, dangling from her clenched teeth.

"Everything alright?"

"Mmhm." She mutters.

"What..." Ronnie glances down.

Right. No pants. He's been flashing her the entire time, too focused on building his little fort, little Ronnie to the wind.

"Oop, shit. Sorry." He quickly twists a leg, trying to cover himself.

Zharris drops the final pillow, stifling a laugh with her hoof. There's a warm glow stuck to her cheeks that curves around her snout, as she watches him awkwardly contort to try and cover himself while standing.
"A little late for that, but the thought is appreciated. You humans have such strange forms."

She 'climbs' into their newly constructed nest, using her nose to lift the blankets before crawling in herself, not unlike a dog would.
"Well?" She chimes expectantly while she's getting settled.

Ronnie kneels once he thinks she's not looking, pulling up the blankets to cover himself before slipping in and joining her.

"Somehow... the carpet feels better than the mattress. Though it may just be my mind tricking itself so I actually get some sleep." Zharris mutters, wriggling into position.

"Wouldn't mind some of that myself. Try not to hog all the placebo effect?" Ronnie comments, feeling a little awkward after flashing the zebra for the last ten minutes. At least the floor was, markedly, more comfortable then the poorly designed set bed.

"No promises, I'm pretty tired."
They're both laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling.

Yeah, this was better.

One thing was missing though.

Zharris breaks the silence, glancing over towards Ronnie from under the sheets.
"I know we have room now, but..."

"Missing the warmth?"

"Would you mind?"

"No issue with..."

"I'm not... unappreciative of the firsthoof demonstrations, if I can say. Just try to not let it poke me." She equally avoids the question, while walking right into it.

"I'd say no promises, but I think we've made it pretty clear that's not how we want this night to go."
Ronnie chuckles as he opens his arms, lifting the blanket around himself and making room for the curious Zebra, who quickly shuffles over -- Ronnie helping by pulling her in once she gets close, until they're in an almost exact replica of the position they were in moments ago on the mattress. Both eagerly accepts the others offered warmth under the sheets, skin to fur, pressing against the other even more than prior.

Yet this time, it isn't so bad. Probably just how shit the bed was.

"Are all humans this warm, or is it just one of your Fire-Fighter things, to be akin to a furnace?" Zharris mumbles, her back firmly pressed into his chest. This time, Ronnie's having difficulty keeping his hips tilted away, the way she's so steadily aligned against his underside.
"Might be good to keep one of you around on those cold Farasian nights..."

"There's definitely an appeal to this kind of thing. Put up a job listing, I'm sure you could find someone."

"And what if I had a specific individual in mind?"

"Depends, I suppose. What might be the going rates?"

"Is an evening with such a beautiful mare not enough for your voracious soul?"

"Ah, but I've already got that."

"Hm? Oh, I was speaking of that Jacob fellow, he seems nice. Since he's akin to a Zebra, perhaps we'll get along?" Zharris asks, a coy smile creeping across her lips as she glances at him from over her shoulder.

"..." Ronnie frowns, tsking dryly.

Zharris snorts, her body twitching as she giggles.
"I kid. Perhaps we can discuss fees and such over tomorrow's breakfast."

"Mmhm. Goodnight, Zharris." Ronnie shakes his head, trying to hide his own bemused smirk.

"Goodnight, Ronnie." She says, though her words are still troubled with the odd snicker.

The two press further into the pillows, to attempt a rest previously denied by their neighbors. In the time it's taken them, the room is nearly entirely dark, save for the lightest hint of deeply-hued color creeping through the covered window, offering Ronnie's adjusted eyes the slightest aid in visualizing the mare he's sleeping aside. Beyond simple sight, however, the sensation of touch provides far more information to his sleepy curiosity.

He can feel Zharris still fidgeting under the sheets, mumbling to herself, like she's uncomfortable or having trouble getting settled.

Before he has the chance to ask her about it, however, she speaks up.

"This is going to sound... strange, and I don't want it to sound misleading at all. But..." She suddenly asks, rolling over in the bed to face him. Her face is firm, but there's an undeniable twitch of nervousness in her hooves. That glow from earlier is still firmly radiating from her snout and cheeks, even as she makes eye contact.
"I'm having some trouble falling asleep... could I request that you pet me again? Is that strange of me to ask?"

"Head and ears?" Ronnie's hand snakes out from behind a pillow, fingers waggling.

"That would be divine." She scoots closer, tilting her head down and neck up. He can feel her nostrils huff warm air against his neck again as she nestles right in, unabashed.

His fingers brush into her fur, caressing upwards into her mane.

"It's kind of funny..."

"What is?"

"Nothing."

"You can't just start a comment and bail on it, Ronnie. Show some dedication." She mumbles, tapping his chest with a hoof.

"... Jiggles does the same thing when he wants pets." Ronnie mutters, Zharris frowning.

"... Are you comparing me to your pet cat?" Zharris tsks dryly.

"That's why I stopped talking." Ronnie sighs.

"Now you have to keep petting me, or I'll take it personally." She huffs proudly, nudging closer. Somehow. They're practically smushed together at this point.

Ronnie rolls his eyes, producing a second hand from under the sheets. While one focuses on slowly raking through the fur on the beck of her neck, up into her mane, and back down again, the other hand begins tracing the base of her ear. It flicks every time he rounds it, tickling as he follows the edge of her ear to the tip.

Zharris let's out a long, content hum.
"...You can go lower." She huffs quietly.

Ronnie pauses, catching her attention, eyes widening.

"O-oh, not like that. Just..."

"Being blunt might do us both a favor here. Could you give me a quick heads up about... pony... erogenous zones? Places I should avoid?"

The blush on her face gets brighter, ears flattening.
"Um..."

"Because earlier, when I was petting your chest at the pool, that's roughly where a zone would be on a human woman. So I'm just trying to..." Ronnie tries to be politely blunt about it. It's a little difficult, dancing around the topic when their situation is already so... well, flagrantly sensual.

"No, I appreciate that you ask, Ronnie." Zharris sighs, taking a moment and steeling herself.
"From what I've... seen, I'm assuming we have similar genitalia. Just... placed differently. So..."

"Butt and it's surrounding regions?"

"...Yes."

"So everything higher than that is alright?"

"...Mostly, yes."

"Mostly?"

"Your hands. It's not a sensation that I'm used to. It feels... good. Good, in a confusing way that makes me question things. Ponies, Zebra, when we're close to another, will nuzzle, or enjoy being near another. This, is... overstimulating, in the best of ways. It's why I suppose I'm having trouble finding... boundaries, and why I appreciate you for being willing to respect them." Zharris explains, lifting her head to look at his face while he speaks, their noses close.

"...Ah." Is about all Ronnie can muster, as things start to make more sense. They've already made their stances on the situation, but also their mutual interest, clear... but the situation was completely new for both of them, and the overlap between how each of their species handles things was causing some unnecessary chafing.

"Thank you for explaining, Zharris. Could I ask you a favor, then?"

"...What would that be?"

"Since we've established... what both of us are looking for in this moment, would you trust me to lead?"

"Lead?" She repeats, head tilting slightly into the pillow.

"If you're uncomfortable at any point, you can ask me to stop. But I think I've got a good idea of what you're looking for, with something to... help you fall asleep."

She seems a little hesitant, glancing down at his chest, hooves fidgeting with the other.
"I... okay." She eventually manages, placing her tentative trust in him.

Rather than her mane, or her body, Zharris finds the palm of Ronnie's hand gently cupping her cheek, thumb stroking through the surprisingly softer face-fur that lines her surprised expression. While his fingers work along the edge of her jaw, his other arm raises over her, wrapping around her back and pulling her tightly against him, tracing circles between her shoulders and occasionally rising to stroke through her mane.

The wordless Zharris hardly has a response for this sudden action, beyond her back reflexively arching under the sudden contact. A harrowingly, but surprisingly respectful, assault upon her senses that left her confused, appeased, and mumbling under her breath. Careful, tender affection and an unbridled proximity sends tingles that ripple up her body, Ronnie able to feel every twitch from her.

"We can stop at any time." Ronnie reminds, worried that he's overstimulating her as she previously claimed -- but her face snaps upward, her nose smacking his, getting a surprised laugh from him.

"Do not." Zharris snips, trembling.
"This is...." She barely manages, breathy. Her mane is messy from all the bed-bound movement she's been up to, loose strands falling in her face as she gasps quietly. Ronnie can feel her hooves pat his sides, slowly feeling him out under the sheets to pull him close in turn, wrapping herself around him.

This was... getting a lot more sensual than he initially intended. Honestly, Ronnie isn't really sure what he expected to happen, considering her last reaction. At least she wasn't against it, but still, not where he was trying to lead the night.

Or maybe Ponies, and Zebras and such are just... weirdly physical.

...He can feel her hind leg between his legs as she returns his embrace, accidentally brushing his member more than once, between small gasps. She's got no clue, completely subsumed in the attention on her head.

Stay strong, Ronnie. You're a man of principles. Just think of that breakfast. Or how everyone else in this building is probably getting busy. Or how there's a breathy, supple mare currently straddling your waist.

Yeah, this was gonna be a tough night.