Intimate Details

Intimate Details - Part 14 “The Art of the Dress”

Rarity fought to control her galloping heart as she made her way to the balcony seats provided her and her friends. Octavia’s reaction to the dress was one for the ages, and her cheeks still burned from the intense kiss she had been given in response. But more than that was the act of putting it on. Rarity was still in a moderate amount of disbelief just how aroused she had gotten helping Octavia clothe herself.

Rarity’s prime desire in life was not clothing people… But disrobing them. She took great pleasure in the creation of clothing, sure. But to her, there was nothing more sexy or arousing than removing the pieces she created from the people she made them for. Countless times Rarity had dreamt of dressing someone up, anyone really, and then taking her sweet time in removing every last stich before getting down to the deed. Or maybe leaving some of it on.

Nevertheless, helping Octavia don the immaculate ensemble had put Rarity in quite a state. But more than that, she knew she was in for the trip of a lifetime. She had caught a few haunting strains of the pieces Octavia would be performing this very evening here and there whenever Octavia practiced in their home. To hear them played professionally and in a formal setting such as this… Rarity could hardly contain her excitement. It was almost distracting enough to deter her attention from what lay over the horizon for the evening.

Almost.

“Heya sis!” Sweetie Belle stood up as Rarity slipped through the door to the private balcony. There were only six seats, two rows of three, and it was here that Rarity, Sweetie Belle, Amethyst, and her guest would be watching the show. Sweetie Belle wore her formal dress, which was the only dress she swore she needed. Rarity had actually had several fights with her little sister about acquiring more clothes for her, but Sweetie Belle became more and more adamant about not accepting them. Rarity always wondered why, but when she saw Sweetie Belle, she was reminded why she never pressed the matter more.

Sweetie was absolutely charming. Her little sister had truly become a woman, or was at least well on her way. She was slender and tall, standing just about a half a head shorter than Rarity. Her moderate bust filled out the dress well, and the hem that used to fall to her ankles now sat respectably just above her knees. The silky-smooth fabric glimmered faintly in the dim lighting of the concert hall, and complimented Sweetie’s curves well. Rarity wondered what could possibly have possessed Scootaloo to leave the charming young woman. Because more than Sweetie’s admirable looks, she had quite a personality. She was talented, intelligent, and a phenomenal conversationalist. For her age, she was knowledgeable and polite. Rarity was proud of her. Which was why it was such a mystery that her little sister’s childhood friend and teenage lover had left. Nevertheless, she gave Sweetie Belle a warm hug before turning to their other two guests.

“Amy. My goodness, you look ravishing.” Amethyst wore a stunning knee-length ball gown, if one could call it that. Rarity always thought it walked the line between a bodice and a cocktail dress. It hugged Amethyst’s curves so intimately, Rarity almost blushed once more, but the respectable length and full-neck collar covered every inch of her skin from chin to knee. Still, it left her shoulders and arms bare, and Rarity knew the open back fell almost as far as the top of her posterior. It was a risky piece to wear to such an occasion, but Amethyst pulled it off remarkably well. Her hair had been prepared in a stunning ponytail that fell down her back in numerous layers, and small jewels had been woven into the hairline of her forehead, making her hair sparkle with the same fiery-red hue as the dress. Beneath it all were her purple eyes, flashing brilliantly despite the light. She looked incredible.

“You forget, this was one of yours.” Amethyst bubbled as she gave Rarity a warm hug.

“No, I remember. It took me four whole days just to get the design right.” Rarity returned, fighting the blush that struggled to rise to her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve been formally introduced to your guest…?”

“Oh, of course. Allow me.” Amethyst turned and offered a hand to either woman, bringing them together. “Rarity, allow me to introduce Miss Fleur De Lis.”

“Aah, so you’re the one Amethyst has been making all those commissions for.” Rarity beamed and took Fleur’s hand in a respectful handshake, both of them giving a small curtsy. “You look fantastic in that dress. I must say, the silver highlights blend remarkably well with your hair.”

“Why thank you.” Fleur blushed slightly, running her hands down the length of her own dress. “Amy made it specifically for this evening.” Her dress was somewhat conservative, and didn’t show off much flesh, but it fit the atmosphere almost perfectly. The detailed layering on her skirt was masterfully executed, and flushed into the hem without a single flaw. The transition between the fabric of her dress and her legs was smooth and unbroken by shadows or unsightly stitching, and rose to meet the blouse in a flawless transition.

Fleur herself was tall and slender, standing a few inches higher than Rarity, but not as tall as Amethyst. Rarity remembered long ago that she had been introduced to this beautiful woman, during her brief stay in Canterlot while she worked on Twilight’s birthday dress. The whole ordeal had ended rather well, and had drawn quite a bit of attention to Rarity’s boutique. Since then, though, Rarity had all but forgotten about the high-brow socialite. Rumor had it that she and her husband had divorced over a fidelity issue, but she had acquired her husband’s business in the divorce. She had since become a respectable businesswoman but still managed to remain a high-class powerhouse. She was one of the women who was at the helm of Canterlot society. Her dresses and her behavior at high-class events were always valuable gossip in the following weeks. Rarity wondered how many of these recent events she had worn dresses made by Amethyst. Her boutique was probably going to explode with new commissions and sales.

“Well you look stunning, darling.” Rarity stopped admiring the dress and looked out over the edge of the balcony. “I think the show will begin shortly.” She muttered, noting the way everybody was taking their seats and looking up towards the stage. Sure enough, the first full-bodied chord began to fill the air with its somber tone. On their balcony, everybody took their seats. Sweetie Belle and Rarity took two seats in the front row, while Fleur and Amethyst sat behind them. If they felt any trepidation at taking the lesser of the available seats, they said nothing.

Not like anybody in the concert hall could say anything. The curtains had gone up, and there she stood. Octavia. In all her womanly glory, clothed in Rarity’s dress, holding her cello and bow.

This time around, the dress didn’t shine as it had before. The gems woven into the fabric didn’t catch the light and throw it back like a million tiny stars. This time, the gems captured the light and held it. Octavia’s skin glimmered, almost like she herself were made of diamonds. The specially-colored rubies were the same hue as Octavia’s own skin. She stood in front of an entire concert hall, wearing what appeared to be nothing. The way the shimmering fabric hugged her hips and her bust, anyone would have guessed she had stepped out of the shower, and this was an effect of the light on her still-wet body.

But it all became clear as she slowly began to move. As soon as her arm lifted the bow to the strings, the gems shifted in color. A collective gasp went up from the crowd, and Rarity felt her heart race even faster. The gems began to change color, shifting from a muted ruby-red to a brilliant and deep purple. The spell Rarity had toiled over for the past three weeks was working. It all became clear, as the definitive lines of the dress were soon made obvious. Their purple color showed everyone present that Octavia was not nude, but fully clothed. Two delicate straps wound up and over her shoulders, leaving her long arms bare, save for two bracelets affixed firmly to her wrists. These, too, were set with the same gems as the rest of the dress, and changed color effectively. The two straps over her shoulder supported a modest bodice that covered Octavia’s admirable breasts and her delicate ribcage. It opened up at the hips, though, exposing the edges of Octavia’s pelvis, complete with a long and wide slit down her thigh. The fabric re-joined for the delicate skirt at her knee, falling just to the tops of her ankles.

The effect was a breathtaking one. Rarity had spent hours going over each stitch of fabric, making sure it was perfectly in place. Once again, she hadn’t slimmed or muted Octavia’s thighs in any way, shape, or form. Instead, she had enhanced their curves, brought them out for all to see. In the recent months of being with her lover, Rarity had discovered several vicious bits of gossip about Octavia. It seemed many people in Canterlot accused Octavia of over-eating, and the product was her massive thighs and wide rear. She was the brunt of many jokes involving her girth, some of which were downright evil.

There were some who even accused Octavia of mutilating herself, hence the reason why she always wore long pants and full skirts. Rarity understood now why Octavia had always been so self-conscious about her hips. It wasn’t a simple sense of modesty over a well-endowed midsection, but rather the product of countless years of being the brunt of high-society jokes. That, coupled with a few wardrobe malfunctions by her previous tailor had made Octavia a pariah amongst high-society socialites.

Now, though, Rarity knew each one of those tongues had been stilled. They had all been shown Octavia’s true beauty. Her legs weren’t an abomination, something to be laughed and made fun of. Her hips weren’t a hindrance, nor were they too large. In fact, they were perfectly fine. Rarity had shown every single doubting eye how Octavia was meant to be viewed. Had shown them Octavia’s true side.

She was womanly. Powerful. Strong. Proud. And damn it all if she wasn’t downright sexy. The concert hall watched with rapt attention as Octavia spread her stance, adopting a powerful position before raising her bow to the strings.

If the dress showed Octavia’s womanly side, her performance showed her mastery. The concert hall erupted into a waterfall of rapid, choppy notes that almost started out as a jumble of sound, incomprehensible from feedback from an electric instrument. But as Octavia continued to make her bow dance across the strings, hitting or slashing across it at times, she realized.

She’s playing Cello Suite number twelve at a one-thirty-second time signature.

The fast display of skill was unparalleled. Octavia’s fingers flew over the strings, playing out each clipped chord and arpeggio at eight times the normal speed. She didn’t miss one meaningful note in the entire passage, moving through each movement with masterful precision. Rarity was swept away as Octavia flawlessly transitioned into a three-fourths time signature, slowing drastically into a moving and powerful piece. Each chord vibrated through the air, gripping her chest with its solemn intensity. She felt the tears fill her eyes as Octavia’s hand rocked back and forth with each new chord.

And then she took a left turn into new territory. Halfway through the piece, a certain passage lined up with the first four notes of a modern pop song. Octavia played through those first four notes before abandoning the twelfth suite and playing the new and popular song. Applause erupted from the stunned concert-goers as they all recognized the new song, being covered by none other than Canterlot’s most talented cellist. The beat was catchy, and Rarity smiled as the lyrics to one of the day’s modern standards came readily to mind. Octavia played through the whole thing flawlessly, playing all of the memorable parts as she could without having to resort to a recording or a second instrument.

When the first song was over, Octavia took a moment to breathe. She let the bow drop by her side, her head hung as she prepared for the next piece. Rarity watched, just as spellbound as the rest of the audience, as her dress did what the spell had been fashioned to do. The gems shifted in color once more, this time turning from the deep, rich purple color into a fiery-red ruby. Such a spell had never been implemented into a piece of clothing before. Mages had changed the colors of gems since time immemorial, but never had one thought to embroider them into fabric and have someone wear it. The second the gems changed from purple to red, Octavia began playing again. This time, the first heartfelt chord elicited a few tears from Rarity’s eyes. She played a slow, almost mournful piece. It was as if her cello were a dearly loved friend who had just suffered a great loss. Rarity could feel the emotion in the notes that filled her ears and her heart.

She was gripped with helplessness and depression, yet at the same time, she felt awed at what was transpiring before her very eyes. Octavia kept her head hung as she played, her raven hair falling over both shoulders to hang down her front. The glimmering pinpricks of red light flashed through the long strands of her hair now and then, but she kept her brilliant eyes covered with her bangs, playing the solemn piece with a bowed head; as if she were praying.

And again, the dress changed.

Octavia stomped her foot four times, tapping out a fast beat, and on the fourth, flung her hair backwards. The dress shifted into brilliant diamonds, as white as the purest clouds. The music surged forth, following a quick and beautiful whip of Octavia’s neck. She flung her hair into the air, fanning it out as the bow flew across the strings once more. She had transitioned from a passionate and meaningful piece into a fast and emotional rollercoaster in the span of four beats. Rarity felt herself actually flatten into the seat. Her hands gripped the armrests and she felt her throat close with shock. She could hardly breathe or think. Octavia had suddenly reached out and gripped the throats of everyone in the concert hall, robbing them of any control they had over their breath. Using her cello, this simple woman commanded everyone in the concert hall.

Their hearts pounded in unison. Their thoughts followed Octavia’s track.

All to the beat of her cello.

And she had just begun.

Unlike last time, Rarity managed to keep herself from running. Her makeup was a complete mess, but she wasn’t the only one in that regard. As the curtains fell on Octavia’s stunning performance, women throughout the concert hall left their seats for the bathrooms. Rarity and Amethyst joined the crowds, going to fix eyeliner and mascara. They managed to beat the largest group to the nearest bathroom, and finished their task before being buffeted by the rush of tear-stained faces. They rendezvoused with Sweetie Belle and Fleur outside of the balcony, and agreed to stay and socialize for a while.

Rarity had one thing on her mind at that moment, though. She wanted to get back to the highrise with Octavia. The dress was too complex to remove on one’s own, so she’d be stuck in it until Rarity could assist. Then again, that was the point behind the design. Rarity wanted to remove each stitch by herself. She wanted Octavia to her own. The burning ache of melancholy sadness and joy she had just been subjected to could not go unpunished. Or unrewarded.

But, as it stood, Rarity needed to own up to her accomplishment. She grinned as Natalie Delacroix emerged from the crowd of women, grasping her arm in a firm grip. “You’re coming with me, Rarity.” She breathed. Rarity’s grin evaporated almost instantly. Behind Natalie were the two big men that had driven the van. They looked seriously at everyone around them, and their presence alone seemed to part the sea of faces. Rarity looked at Natalie seriously, her expression drawn.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re not familiar with the paparazzi, I take it.” Natalie grunted. “If any one of these socialites discovers you’re the one who-“

“Ahem.” The big man on the left cut Natalie off. She shot him a knowing look before leaning in to whisper in Rarity’s ear.

“If they discover you’re the one who made the dress, you’re going to get mobbed.”

That most certainly sounded like something Rarity wanted to avoid. Even as she looked around, whispers and looks were being cast her way. Soon enough, the whispers gained definition and body. The looks turned into stares. The two big men escorting her held fingers to the earpieces they wore and began to maneuver forward. Rarity felt her heart hammer against her ribcage. People began to move a little closer.

“We need to go.” Natalie breathed, pulling Rarity between the two big men. “Now.”

“She’s the dress designer.” Someone said off to the side. The look Natalie shot the man could have melted ice. Rarity felt another hand rest on her, low on her back. Both it and the one on her arm made one point very, very clear to her:

They needed to leave, and they needed to leave now.

“Well.” Rarity gasped as she finally reached the back seat of a long limo. “That was an ordeal.” She grumbled to no one in particular. As it turned out, she was not alone.

“Tell me about it.”

“Tavi?”

“Hello, love.” Octavia beamed as she emerged from the shadows of the long limo’s back area, sliding along the bench-like seat to sit beside Rarity. “Had your first run-in with the paparazzi?”

“Yes.” Rarity breathed, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye as she slid closer to Octavia’s side. “They are quite rude.”

“Oh darling.” Octavia breathed. “This was your first rodeo. Just wait. They’re incorrigible.” Octavia wrapped Rarity in a warm hug, drawing the trembling dressmaker into a warm embrace.

“I was actually kind of scared there for a moment.” Rarity breathed, nuzzling into Octavia’s brilliant raven hair with a soft sigh. “I didn’t think I’d make it out of there without fainting.”

“That’s right… Your blood pressure had to have made that a hundred times worse.” Octavia mused, stroking Rarity’s hair soothingly. “I’m sorry you had to do that alone. Maybe next time we’ll arrange a way for you to stay backstage so we can leave together or something.”

“Maybe.” Rarity smiled and pulled away, but only to press her lips to Octavia’s. “Let’s go home?”

“Yes, let’s. Driver? My apartment, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The driver up at the front of the limo turned his head to smile at them over his shoulder before rolling up the screen separating him from the two of them. The limo pulled out of the underground parking garage beneath the concert hall and onto the busy late-night Canterlot streets. Rarity watched out of the tinted windows as the paparazzi slid past, replaced instead by the traffic and lights of the early-spring city. She nuzzled a little closer to Octavia, happy to be beside her lover on the drive home.

It took them maybe fifteen minutes with the traffic, but soon enough the driver pulled into another parking garage beneath the high rise apartments they called home. There were another two big men waiting for them, and Rarity recognized the uniforms as the front-desk security guards. “Miss Octavia, Miss Rarity. Welcome home.” The one who opened their door smiled and offered a hand. Rarity took it thankfully, pulling Octavia with her. The guards escorted them to the elevator, and guided them all the way to the top floor. Octavia sighed as she opened the door to their apartment, and the guards left them.

They were finally home. Safe and alone. Sweetie Belle would be going back to her own home, the new one the royal treasury had bought for her. Amethyst and Fleur De Lis would have found their own way out, though Rarity would guess they had stayed behind to socialize. As it were, the two of them were alone at home, their cell phones were turned off, and the forecast called for plenty of wine and good company.

“Rarity.” Octavia groaned, reaching down to unfasten her heels. “I think you’ve outdone yourself.”

“I don’t know if it was better than the first.” Rarity muttered with a blush, mirroring Octavia as she slipped out of her own cursed heels.

“No, really. I could feel it. This dress-“ She lifted the hem of the color-changing dress. The gems were now a brilliant, sparkling green. “Was better than the last. I promise you.”

“Thank you.” Rarity muttered, still blushing. She finally freed herself of the pain-inducing heels, sighing with relief at the cool feel of the hardwood floor. Octavia turned to her then, a coy smile on her lips. Rarity would recognize that smile anywhere. Both of them were famished, and probably in dire need of a square meal and eight hours of rest. But Rarity knew with one look that neither of them were going to sleep any time soon.

“Bed?”

“Bed.” Rarity took Octavia’s hand and pulled her down the hall, laughing with a childlike sense of exuberance. The two of them slipped into their bedroom. It was here that Rarity took control of the situation. “Sit.” She commanded, releasing Octavia at the edge of the bed. Octavia obeyed, grinning as Rarity stepped backwards just a few feet. Slowly, she began to strip, pulling her dress off inch by inch. Octavia watched as Rarity shed her clothes one by one, making sure she took her time in doing so. Much to Octavia’s chagrin, Rarity didn’t stop until she was completely devoid of any clothing. Panties included.

It was half for the enjoyment of watching Octavia squirm, and half because Rarity didn’t want any distractions herself. This way, without a stitch between her and her target, she could truly enjoy what was to come.

Rarity’s prime sexual fantasy was to remove every stitch of clothing bit by bit, and take her sweet time doing it. Octavia wouldn’t have a choice in the matter. Rarity would use her magic to restrain the cellist if she must. But as it turned out, Octavia was more than willing to be subject to Rarity’s ministrations.

Rarity crawled onto the bed, making her way around to Octavia’s back. The cellist pulled her hair over her shoulder, exposing the back of the dress. Rarity took a moment to remove each of Octavia’s earrings, made from the same color-changing jewels as the rest of her dress. She kissed each lobe gingerly, eliciting a soft whimper and a low groan from her lover. Octavia shuddered, but didn’t make any moves. She knew this was Rarity’s treat. A payment, of sorts, for working so hard on the dress. That didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it, though. As the two of them had discovered before, Octavia rather enjoyed it.

Because for Rarity, removing each piece of clothing was as much a religious experience as it was sexual. She didn’t just get off on taking clothes off, or what came after. She worshipped the one wearing them. Each inch of Octavia’s skin was sacred to her. Beautiful and praise-worthy on its own. Rarity would take as long as a half an hour before they ever did anything sexual. She would spend each minute caressing, kissing, touching, massaging… And it was then that Rarity began her long and pleasurable journey.

She started with the long and concealed zipper at the top of Octavia’s spine. With a very purposeful touch, she guided the zipper down, pulling it slowly enough that Octavia squirmed a little. She would do that as Rarity went about this process, but she would never move. She knew she was going to enjoy this almost as much as Rarity was. The zipper slid down her spine, following each gentle bump, before stopping just above the crack of her rear. Rarity propped herself up on her knees, hovering over Octavia’s back gently. She slid one finger into the aperture of the dress, pressing her lacquered nail against the bottom of Octavia’s spine. She slowly ran it up the length of her back, watching with an amused smile as Octavia shuddered. She had elicited a chill. The first of many.

“Aah.” Octavia breathed as Rarity laid her hand flat between her shoulders, parting the zipper further. The straps around her shoulders sagged, and Rarity gently guided them halfway down her long arms. Octavia didn’t move, but let the straps rest in the crook of her elbows. She knew if Rarity wanted them all the way off, she would remove them herself. Octavia only had to sit there and let her lover do as she pleased. Which, in and of itself, was half of the excitement. Rarity’s lips split into a giddy grin as she laid both hands flat on Octavia’s shoulders.

Her excitement began to grow as she felt the gentle rise of Octavia’s collarbone underneath her palms. Her fingers curled around to Octavia’s neck, her nails digging in just a little. Octavia groaned and rolled her head in a slow circle, causing a cascade of silken hair to fall over Rarity’s forearms. She shuddered at the tickling sensation, but didn’t stop it. Instead, she let Octavia’s hair hug her wrists, even as her hands travelled lower and lower. She changed direction around the end of Octavia’s ribs, her hands slowly curling around to the flat plane of her stomach. Octavia leaned back until her shoulders rested on Rarity’s breasts, giving her love free reign over her front side. And it was here Rarity slowed considerably.

Her hands lingered on Octavia’s stomach, tracing the gentle curves from the top of her pubis to the underside of her ribs. She even circled the cellist’s petite belly button a few times, getting a soft groan and a thin whimper in return. She was taking her time, of course, but she felt the excitement and urgency begin to build. Her hands ventured higher, cupping the underside of Octavia’s breasts. The cellist whimpered once more. While she didn’t say anything, she was allowed to look up at Rarity. Her eyes spoke volumes her mouth otherwise wasn’t allowed to. She wanted Rarity’s touch all over her. She wanted gratification.

Rarity wanted it too, but hers came in a different form. And tonight, at least for the next few minutes, it was all about her. Well, maybe a few less minutes than usual. Rarity would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling the eagerness build up already. In fact, her womanhood ached for satisfaction already. She was half-tempted to let Octavia lay on her back and straddle her lover’s face, to be licked and sucked to orgasm. It would be nice.

But not as nice as if she waited. Instead, her hands slid up the smooth slope of Octavia’s breasts, fully cupping them with her entire hand. Octavia’s eyes closed and she gave a low, blissful, throaty groan. Rarity could feel the hard goose-fleshed nipples underneath her palms. Octavia was likely aroused beyond belief. If her nipples were any indication, her own womanhood would be positively dripping by now. Rarity wanted to smell it. To taste it. To feel it.

She couldn’t do it. Not tonight. Not right now. “Stand up.” She panted, gingerly pushing Octavia’s shoulders away from her chest. Octavia obliged with a warm grin, her hips swaying gently. Rarity slid off the bed and walked around to Octavia’s front, her heart hammering with pent-up desire. She settled herself on one course of action and one course only. That meant she was going to get it, no matter what.

“Oh!” Octavia gasped as Rarity fell to her knees, pulling the straps of the dress all the way down and off. Rarity’s hands glowed as she threw the clasp on the bracelets, letting them fall to the ground haphazardly. Octavia seized the opportunity, threading her long, supple fingers into Rarity’s hair. That helped, since Rarity leaned forward to press her lips against the flat pane of Octavia’s twitching stomach. She earned another throaty groan in return. Her arms wrapped around Octavia’s thighs, embracing her hips, pulling herself tight against the full curves. Octavia squirmed, swaying side-to-side as Rarity’s kiss turned a little wetter. When she pulled away, she left a shining bit of saliva behind. Octavia was panting now.

Rarity didn’t need to wait any more. She was ready for this. She wanted it. No, she needed it. Using her magic, she grasped every zipper and intricate clasp on the bottom half of the dress and threw it at the same time. The dress seemed to grow as the collapsible seams and zipper compartments freed Octavia’s prodigious hips from the fabric. The glimmering gems lost their enchantment, turning back to the flesh-colored tone they originally kept. It looked almost like Octavia was shedding her skin, like a snake. Rarity watched, breathless with anticipation, as the dress slid off of Octavia’s wide hips, leaving nothing behind. Octavia was completely nude now. And Rarity couldn’t be more happy for that fact.

“Aahn!” Octavia gasped as Rarity dove right in. Her mouth opened in a hot exhalation, and she lifted Octavia’s leg over her shoulder. Almost immediately, Rarity was wrapped in the warm haven of Octavia’s thighs, her mouth filled with the cellist’s dripping womanhood. The insides of her thighs were slick with her desire, and Rarity felt her cheeks begin to grow wet with the runoff. She lost track of time and breath there in Octavia’s crotch. At some point, Octavia fell onto her back, all of the strength gone from her well-endowed legs. Rarity was restless. Her tongue pulsed in and out of Octavia, lapping up her juices, assaulting her clitoris. She didn’t stop. She didn’t pause for even a moment. Her mouth was a restless, insatiable machine. Octavia shuddered under no less than four orgasms before Rarity finally pulled away, her lips and chin dripping with the excess juices.

“Guh.” Octavia groaned, her stomach twitching. Rarity licked her lips with a sly grin, looking up the length of her lover’s body. Between Octavia’s cleavage, she could see the pleasured, half-lidded expression she had forced onto her lover’s face.

“Good?”

“Words… Cannot describe.” Octavia panted, managing one quick glance down her body at Rarity.

“Hmm. Good.” Rarity leaned in for one long, pointed lick, moaning as she felt Octavia twitch atop the sheets. She didn’t dive back in, though. At least, not yet. Instead, Rarity crawled up onto the bed, half-dragging, half-guiding Octavia until her legs were fully atop the sheets. Then, Rarity swung her leg out, positioning her own neglected womanhood above Octavia’s open, panting mouth. She felt the first tentative brush of the cellist’s tongue slide over her dripping clitoris, eliciting a shiver and a soft moan from her. She didn’t rest for long, though. She dove back into Octavia’s core, her entire mouth opening to take in the soft, fleshy folds. Octavia cried out as Rarity speared the poor woman’s delicious pussy with her tongue, driving as deep as she could manage. Her teeth scraped over Octavia’s clitoris, sending the poor woman over the edge of yet another orgasm.

Her shock didn’t last long. Rarity let out a long, drool-filled groan as Octavia returned the motion in kind. The aching need for fulfillment was suddenly and completely quenched as Octavia’s tongue lashed against her core. She could feel drool and wetness slide down her thighs, all the way to her knees. She was absolutely sloppy downstairs. Octavia wasn’t missing a single moment of it. Rarity would have given anything to see what the cellist’s face looked like then. It was almost a shame that she was caught up getting just as sloppy herself.

Almost.

Her first orgasm ripped through her stomach, nearly robbing her of what strength she had. Rarity cried out loud, throwing her head back as Octavia flicked her clitoris back and forth as quickly as her tongue would allow. Octavia gasped and groaned as Rarity flooded her mouth with a thin stream of feminine ejaculate, and then cried out loud as the purple-haired magi returned the favor in kind. Her fingers slid deep into Octavia’s pulsing vagina, curling upwards into her g-spot effectively. Rarity watched with a smug, albeit breathless, sense of satisfaction as Octavia squirted all over the sheets.

“Don’t stop.” Octavia panted. Her own fingers slid over Rarity’s thighs, peeling her lips apart, exposing her insides for her love to see. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.”

“Not until… We soak the box springs.” Rarity panted, her fingers sliding back in. Just as Octavia’s joined the fray.

“Haah… Haa… How many times… Did you cum?” Octavia panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I can’t feel my legs. That’s how many times.” Rarity groaned, laying spread-eagle opposite the exhausted and cum-stained cellist. Amidst the abused sheets lay small puddles of release, the dead vibrator they had both shared, a double-ended monstrosity Octavia had picked up last week, and one very well-utilized strapon. Light peeked over the horizon, threatening to illuminate their playground with baleful light. They had been at it all night. The sheets bore evidence of the night-long romp, too. Sticky, smelly, delightful feminine arousal permeated the air, staining Rarity’s sense of smell with it’s pervasiveness. She and Octavia lay next to one another, still trying to recover.

“I don’t think we can make it to the bathroom.”

“Fuck it.” Rarity groaned, somehow managing to turn herself around to lay beside Octavia. “Stay here with me.”

“Hmm. Deal.” Octavia moaned, wrapping Rarity in a tender embrace. Their exhausted bodies gave them no protest as both women drifted off into a deep sleep. Rarity didn’t dream, didn’t even stir. When she woke, it was well into the day, and the light came in through the wide bank of windows freely. She inhaled softly, recollecting all that had just transpired. When she realized that the two of them were laying in the eight-hour-old remains of what was probably the longest and most sexual experience of her entire life, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Tavi.” She whispered, kissing Octavia’s shoulder gingerly. “Wake up.”

“Five more minutes.” Octavia moaned, squeezing Rarity as she stirred.

“Come on, love.” Rarity repeated the kiss, moving up to the cellist’s neck. That got her attention. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times before coming to the same realization that Rarity had.

“Eew.”

“Exactly.” Rarity chuckled, kissing her cheek now. “Come on. We need to wash.”

“Yeah…” Octavia leaned forward for a quick kiss before unwinding her arms from Rarity’s waist. The two women somehow managed to crawl off of the bed and limp their way to the bathroom, where they stood on the cold tile waiting for the hot bath to fill. They both slid in next to one another, groaning at the feel of soap and oil on their skin once more. After a long soak and a tender grooming session, both women felt refreshed and clean once more. Upon returning to the bedroom, though, they were struck with a problem.

The sheets were almost completely soaked through. To say nothing of the mattress pad, and the mattress itself.

“This is a problem.” Octavia muttered, frowning at the mess.

“We could sleep in the guest bedroom for a few days.” Rarity offered, her hands glowing. She pulled the sheets and the mattress pad off of the bed, wadding them all together in a bundle with her magic. The toys came with it.

“Here. I’ll get a bin for those.” Octavia led Rarity down the hall to the laundry room, pulling out a large bin for the soiled sex toys. Rarity dumped them inside to be cleaned later before shoving the sheets into the washer. Octavia added a healthy portion of detergent and started the load before grinning at Rarity. “We’ve got a serious problem.”

“I’d say it’s a serious solution.” Rarity teased, wrapping Octavia in a warm hug. Octavia returned it in kind, holding Rarity as they leaned against the washing machine. They stayed like that for a while, simply holding one another. When it came time to break the silence, Rarity did so first. With the same words that had been on her mind for a long, long time. She had said them plenty of times before, but each time was just as meaningful as the first.

“I love you, Octavia.”

“I love you too, Rarity.”

They shared a quick kiss and a warm smile. It was then that Rarity felt something pull at her hand. She stepped back, looking down at the pressure. Octavia had her left hand in both of her own. But what she held nearly stopped Rarity’s heart.

“I think it’s time we make it official.” Octavia smiled. Rarity watched as she guided a stunning diamond ring onto her third finger, settling it just above the promise ring they both wore. “Rarity… Will you marry me?”