Eros: a Collection of Experimental Short Stories

by darf

Chapters

A Ruby's Blossom
On Lips
Kiss
Chaos Theory (Text Version)
With Him
Enharmonic: a Movement in Four Parts
Chaos Theory (Arranged Version)

A Ruby's Blossom

When someone sets their eyes upon a sight

That robs them of their tongue and of their mind

There is no recourse but to take the fight

Of their soul to that which must be blind

It’s said that love is bless’ed with the dark

Of mystery in match beshroud its eyes

To pay no heed to make or form or mark

When leading gentle lovers to their prize

Often, truth in common sense is dull

A saying or a phrase devoid of worth

But this one holds ‘gainst cynical annul

Because it tracks a force that guides the earth

There is no path or dotted line in love

There is but heart, and what we find thereof

At first, a boy’s desire can be daunting

His eagerness pretends a puppy’s eyes

His words of need can be construed for wanting

His sugar-spinning all made up of lies

The key that unlocks favour from reproach

Is a mix, persistence and restraint

Honest aplomb that gives a grace to broach

Affection for someone without constraint

It is a task to prove his love is real

A chore beset by time and lengthy deed

But if he earnest holds to what he feels

The passion he keeps back can then be freed

And boyhood love can blossom into truth

With all the fire carried from his youth

When first I thought I’d laid my eyes upon

A beauty so sublime to stop my heart

I offered all until my all was gone

And each night, pining, tore myself apart

I offered crimson jewels and rubies red

I offered up my self-esteem and worth

I persisted no matter what you said

Deterred by no force between heav’n or earth

Yet everyday your answer was the same

Too different we, and different age besides

Although you said persistence was my name

Love was a game I must forego the prize

But one day all the world between us changed

And just the flame between us has remained

Ah yes, of course, I must retell the tale

Of how your wooing went from plea to plan

And how, before your serenades grew stale

You caught my heart with softness in your hand

So weary was I of your plenaries

Letters full of words you could not mean

Blinded youth instead of honesty

And talks of how you held me in your dreams

I can’t forget the turning of events

That opened up my eyes to all you spoke

When finally you told me what you meant

In dreaming of my face as you awoke

And how as I remember now that day

I couldn’t have foreseen what you would say

Rarity, the jewel of my eye

It’s not enough to say you are sublime

That every single day that passes by

Without you in my arms is too much time

To be without the sweetest sight my eyes

Have ever had the fortune to behold

It’s not enough to say that I despise

The thought of us apart as we grow old

But what is true, and what I need to tell

Is more than how your beauty makes me weak

That though my adoration seems a spell

I only act as heart inside wills speak

As not in waking or in sleep dreamed of

A pony with whom I could so be in love

Of course, we both remember what came next

When finally that word had crossed your lips

I saw you then, more sure than genuflect

And offered you my hoof, and then we kissed

I never knew ‘till tasting of your breath

A thing there was to make heart’s beating cease

That taste could then have carried me to death

And still, at least, my heart would be at peace

But there was still much more to show than that

As pleased would I have been to let you pass

Our night was no time lifelines should fall flat

Instead, a time performance could surpass

The expectations built up in our dreams

To learn what love might lie within our means

I took you up the stairs into my room

And blushed bright when at last you stepped inside

The blankets were awash in your perfume

The empty bed left naught for us to hide

We tumbled into sheets and pillow lace

Without need for first-step ceremony

At last my touch could gently trace your face

The sigh your softness stole was testimony

I felt, at last, the reverence in your eyes

Of all the things you said to woo me then

Gentle caress showed my words were no lies

I meant them and would mean them all again

But, at last, the time for words was done

No time but whens two souls could become one

A dragon’s claw, I learned, is oddly fine

A talon touch, but soft and with such care

My hand was shaking as I called you mine

Breathed your scent, and fingers through your hair

A night of firsts, both for you and I

For me, first touch of dragon’s foreign form

For me, the first a lady’s body spied

The softness of your skin and fur so warm

Each touch was gentle, guiding ever tender

The shimmer in your taken hesitance

Each trail on your skin was subtle splendor

A chance to witness all your resonance

‘Til finally, the preparation through

You gave yourself to me, and I to you

Each moment then held worlds in a second

So complete was the union ‘tween our souls

The luster of your pleasure only beckoned

For essence of each instant to extoll

The fire came from heart to scald our lips

The flame so hot it welded us as one

And yet, the same, inferno was eclipsed

By waterfalls of ecstasy undone

As time ticked on, all trepidation vanished

I called your name and held you to my chest

Consumed by love, a wonder that I managed

To hold back – but of course, I did my best

So we could crest the peak of bliss together

And hold the moment in our hearts forever

I spoke again the word that made you mine

And closed my eyes as fervor became pause

I drank it from your mouth like sparkling wine

And let you take my hooves into your claws

We froze as our euphoria ebbed past

Captured by felicity of love

For though our pass’nate dance had crested fast

Time stopped as heaven welcomed us above

Sweet Rarity, your name a sparkling stone

Behind my shuttered eyes, I saw your smile

Spike, dear Spike, now mine and mine alone

Your scales shined to me like emerald isles

The words we shared unconscious in a kiss

And rode our wave of passion into bliss

Since then, long nights have passed to set apart

The moment of our joyful consummation

And nothing still has pried you from my heart

That bolstered into love from my fixation

Never once, my sweet, has crossed the thought

Of separation from you in my mind

And you, my darling dear, need worry not

Of fracture in the gem our love’s refined

The only point of our uncertainty

Is future we will find as such a pair

And that, I think, is no great mystery

For in the scope of space, there is no care

For me, but keeping eye my blossom gem

And me, my knight, and holding him my stem

For as a flower, love can bloom so bright

Although it might not seem so at first sight

On Lips

“Hey.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.”

“What’s up?”

“Are you feeling... frisky?”

“What? I... why do you ask?”

“‘Cause I can feel you poking me, silly.”

“Oh... sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. I think it’s cute.”

“‘Cute’ probably isn’t the word you’re looking for.”

“Oh, fine. Would you prefer ‘sexy’?”

“I dunno... I guess.”

“Well, Mr. Sexy, would you like to do something to take care of that thing I feel jabbing me in the butt?”

“We... I mean, we could, if you want to.”

“Well, it certainly seems like you do.”

“Sorry...”

“Don’t be sorry! I’d love to.”

“You would?”

“Uh-huh. I can get frisky too you know.”

“Well... okay. Should we...?”

“Hmm?”

“Well, we can’t just go right into it, can we?”

“We could.”

“It doesn’t feel right.”

“Well... why should we wait?”

“I dunno. Just... c’mere.”

“Mmph... your lips taste good. Were you eating something?”

“I, uh... I had a piece of pie earlier.”

“The one in the kitchen?”

“Yeah.”

“I hope you left me some.”

“Come on, I’m not that much of a pig...”

“I know, I know. Come here.”

“Hey—”

“Mmmm... cherry, right?”

“I think so.”

“It’s a nice flavour for you.”

“Thanks...”

“Do you feel better now? You might feel like waiting, but I certainly don’t.”

“No, it’s fine. We can... okay. So, do you just want to...”

“Do you want me to be on top?”

“You don’t have to...”

“I know I don’t have to. Do you want me to?”

“I wouldn’t mind...”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. I know you like it—you can just say so.”

“I’m sorry. I get nervous when it comes to... stuff.”

“Oh, when it comes to stuff?”

“Stop. You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do, and I know you do. I think it’s adorable. But you don’t have to.”

“It’s hard though.

“I can see that.”

“Oh come on.”

“Haha, sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

“Very funny.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“...”

“So did you want me to be on top?”

“...Yeah, kinda.”

“Can you say it for me?”

“...do I have to?”

“No, you don’t have to, but I’d like it a lot if you did.”

“Ugh...”

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. Here, do you wanna lie down—”

“Twilight.”

“Mm?”

“Twilight, will you... would you mind... being on top... this time?”

“That’s good. Maybe a little bit more... assertive, you know?”

“Ugh, I’m no good at this.”

“It’s fine. It’s not anything. I just wanted to hear you say it that’s all.”

“...Can... Twilight... you should be on top, this time. I want you to... I wanna watch you... ride...me...”

“Ooh. I like that a lot. Well, since you told me so nicely.”

“Hnn.”

“Oh, did your head hit the board there?”

“No, it’s fine. I just nicked it.”

“Phew.”

“...”

“...So... you want me to ride you, do you?”

“Oh, gosh, don’t...”

“Don’t? Hmm, I’m not sure. It seemed you liked it when I said that. When I said I was gonna ride you.”

“Ahhh...”

“I felt it twitch. Do really like the idea of my bouncing on top of you that much?”

“Geez, Twi, don’t... you shouldn’t...”

“I shouldn’t, shouldn’t I? Well, I can hardly help it when I can see you’re enjoying so much. Are you gonna lie down for me so I can... ride you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Here, have a pillow.”

“Thanks...”

“Gosh, you’re so hard.”

“I’m sorry...”

“Why on earth would you be sorry? I love it. Can you feel how wet I am?”

“Yes...”

“It’s ‘cause I want you so bad. I wanna ride you until you can’t hold back anymore.”

“Twi’...”

“...”

“—!”

“Nnnnh. Gosh you’re hard. So hard.”

“Twi...”

“Do you like that? Do you like me on top of you like this?”

“Twi, fuck, you feel so amazing...”

“Oooh, dirty talk. I like that. Talk dirty to me while I ride you.”

“Fuck, Twi, you’re so good at that, you feel so tight...”

“Uh-huh. You like my pussy rocking up and down on your big dick?”

“Fuck...”

“Mmm, I like the way you buck up at me like that. I can’t help myself when I feel you push inside me... my head gets all weird. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, gosh no...”

“Good. I wanna say dirty things to you until you’re ready to shoot inside me.”

“Fuck... not gonna be long if you keep that up.”

“What, if I keep whispering naughty words into your ear like this...”

“Nnngh...”

“Ooooh, Caramel, I love the way you feel inside me. I love the feeling of riding your cock...”

“Twi, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna...”

“Already? But we just started.”

“I... I know... I’m sorry. You just feel so...”

“Huh. That good? Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I guess I should probably be flattered.”

“Gah... don’t wiggle like that. Seriously, just hold still for a second.”

“Sorry, sorry. I can’t help it.”

“Can you... you should probably get up, for a minute.”

“Awww. Are you sure?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, sweetie. I think it’s a compliment; that you can’t keep from getting off after only a few minutes of me being on top of you.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Take a minute if you need it.”

“Can I... can I touch you while I... while we...”

“You want to touch me?”

“Yeah. I always want to touch you. You’re beautiful.”

“Oh, shush.”

“I mean it. I think about it every day. Just looking at you makes me wanna throw you down and smother you in kisses.”

“You’re such a sweetheart. I love how romantic you are.”

“Maybe a little bit.”

“Do you wanna smother me in kisses right now?”

“Well, one part of you...”

“Ooh! What’s gotten into you? I love when you’re forward like this.”

“I can’t help myself sometimes. You look really sexy right now.”

“I’m glad you think so–oooh my gosh...”

“Mmmm... nnmmh...”

“Oooh, Caramel, don’t stop. Press... press a little harder with your tongue, just at the top... a little harder—yes right there ohhhh my gosh...”

“Mmm.”

“Oh, so good, your tongue, feels, really good...”

“Nmnh. Uhh...”

“Caramel? Are you okay?

“Yeah, my... sorry. My neck kind of hurts.”

“Oh, Sweetie. That’s okay. You don’t have to keep going if you hurt.”

“But you were enjoying it...”

“It’s not worth you feeling uncomfortable. Did you hurt your neck earlier today?”

“Not really...”

“Well, that’s okay.”

“Sorry—”

“Shhh. Don’t worry about it.”

“...”

“...do you think you’re ready to try again, then?”

“Oh... yeah, I guess. Am I still hard? I can never tell once I get started.”

“Hahaha! What? Yes, you’re still hard! You feel like a piece of iron.”

“Oooh. Okay. Didn’t know.”

“You’re as hard as a rock, hee hee.”

“Don’t... don’t, too much with your hoof.”

“Sorry, sorry. Did you want me to be on top again?”

“I think you probably shouldn’t. I might not be able to let you know if I’m close again.”

“Did you want to be on top then? I know it’s not your favorite.”

“But you like it.”

“Yes, I do, but still—ooh!”

“Did you hit your head on the board?”

“No, not at all. I love the way you did that. Just throwing me down so you can have your way with me.”

“Was it too rough?”

“Uh-uh. You could even be a little rougher, if you wanted.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, just like that. Pin my hooves down... mmm...”

“I... wow. I never thought of... holding you down like this.”

“Do you like it?”

“I kind of do. I didn’t realize how much... smaller you are than me.”

“Hmmm... I am smaller, aren’t I? I’m practically helpless against a big strong stallion like you...”

“Twilight, I’m not that strong.”

“What do you mean? You’re holding me down right now, and I’m powerless to do anything. Why, you could spread my legs and force yourself inside and all I’d be able to do is watch...”

“Like... like this?”

“Ohh, gosh, yes, like that... don’t, don’t.”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No... sweetie, it’s okay. Just play along.”

“Oh. Right, right.”

“...mmm... no... don’t, please, please stop...”

“Not a chance.”

“Please, just let me go, I swear, I’ll do anything, just don’t hold me here against my will and fuck me with that big stallionhood of yours.”

“Listen to that mouth. You sound like a dirty slut. You’re practically begging for it. I can feel how wet you are.”

“Ohhh, I am, aren’t I? I can’t help it. I don’t want to be, but when I feel your big strong forelegs holding me down and then you keep f-fucking me like that—like that oh, fuck, it feels too good for me to say no.”

“Tilt your head forward.”

“Huh?”

“Do it. Tilt your head forward.”

“O-okay. Why do you want me to—ohhhh...”

“Mmmf.”

“Don’t, don’t, not my horn, too much oh gosh oh gosh, don’t...”

“Shit. You just clenched so hard around my... around me right now.”

“Nnnh. Well, I can’t help it if you do that.”

“Twilight, I’m not gonna last much longer—”

“Oh, please, just a few more minutes.”

“But I’m really close.”

“So am I, it’s okay. Just... hold on for another two minutes, okay?”

“Mmmnh.”

“Oooh... just keep.. just keep slamming... really d-deep, like that.”

“Ffff.”

“Oh, Caramel, just a little bit more, I’m so close.”

“Fuck, Twilight. I can’t...”

“Please! Here, let me...”

“Woah, holy shit. Twilight, don’t!”

“...it’s... okay... don’t worry, it’s okay... nngh...”

“You have no idea how tight you get when you do that. Fuck, really close.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just go... whenever. Please. Go ahead.”

“Twilight...”

“...g-go ah-head... please... now, now inside me, now now please now Goddess I need it fill me up with your cum pleeeeaaaseee—”

“Twilight!”

“Oh, Caramel, I’m... nnnmmmh....”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking, so good, shit...”

“Mmmmmmmm, yes, yes, inside, mmm...”

“Hunh... hunh...”

“Ahhhhh...”

“Guhh...”

“Mmm...”

“...”

“Jeez.”

“What?”

“There’s just... sorry. I didn’t realize how much I...”

“Is it leaking?”

“Yeah. All over the sheets.”

“It’s fine. We can wash them later.”

“Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t trade this for anything. Come here.”

“Okay.”

“Hmmm.”

“Mm.”

“You are wonderful.”

“You too.”

“Ahh..”

“...”

“You know... your mouth tastes pretty clean for someone so dirty.”

“Is that so? Well your mouth still tastes like cherries.”

“I thought you said it was a good flavour for me.”

“It is, but it’s making me hungry.”

“We can get up for something in a second.”

“I know... but I don’t want to right now.”

“Me either.”

“...”

“Do you want to just lie here for a bit?”

“I think I’d like that.”

Kiss

“Pinkie Pie,” Dash said. Her Eyes got big in that way they did when she was thinking, really Thinking about Something, or maybe feeling it, depending on the Thing.

“Yes, Rainbow Dash?” Pinkie said back. Pink and Blue. They matched each other in a way. Pinkie draped her arms around Dash’s body and leaned back like she was pretending to be Someone In Charge, or Someone Who Understood, or anything more than what she was, which was Pinkie Pie.

“You... do you ever worry, sometimes?”

Pinkie’s head shook before Dash could finish her question, but Dash plodded on, paying no mind to Pinkie’s gesture.

Pinkie Pie liked that—the way that when Dash had Something on her mind, there was no force on earth that could stop her from bringing it out. Pinkie knew because she had tried before without much success.

“I worry sometimes,” Dash said.

“What do you worry about?”

Pinkie’s voice sang. It was like a chipper chirping that burbled into melody at a moment’s notice. Pinkie liked to make her normal voice as cheerful as her singing when she could. She liked it because it made other ponies smile.

Dash sighed.

“It’s stupid, but... sometimes I worry that one day I’m gonna wake up and all this will be gone. Not everything, but just... you. Us. This.”

It was to Pinkie’s credit that she could hold her tongue long enough for her hug to come to being, which it did, with Rainbow Dash letting out a startled sort of oof as Pinkie squeezed her tight enough to cause an only-for-an-instant panicked wing buzz.

“I don’t worry about that one bit.” Pinkie relented in her hugging and Dash could breathe again, which she did, though not in anything more than soft swallows of air, because she had Pinkie’s eyes to look into, and her Body to hold her there.

“Because,” Pinkie continued, “the only thing to end it is us. And I know that won’t happen.”

“But what if—”

Pinkie’s hoof proved a perfect interruptor, plugging Dash’s mouth and bringing back those wide Eyes again.

“You can worry all you want,” Pinkie said. “You can wake up tomorrow and decide that things are going to be different. But for now, right now, this is the way things are. I’m not going to change them, and there isn’t anything you can say to convince me otherwise.”

Rainbow Dash’s Eyes got smaller then, and a bit of something shimmering danced at them towards the edges. She smiled. Pinkie Smiled.

“Pinkie...”

“It’s okay.”

They pressed their noses together, nuzzling them like tiny fingers reaching to find each other, and holding for a second because they knew they weren’t alone. Rainbow Dash’s nose felt like a soft fuzzy something that Pinkie wanted to bite down on in a playful way, but she didn’t.

After a few seconds, Pinkie and Dash looked up and opened their eyes, and their hooves found a place around each others’ backs. Pinkie’s eyes flared for an instant before she closed them, and leaned forward, and she and Dash kissed.

And to Pinkie, the kiss in that moment was Everything.

When they met there were differences between them, as there were with anyone, and Rainbow Dash had had no qualms about directing her opinion in Pinkie Pie’s direction, in the way that she always did Pinkie had Smiled and bared the entire thing, because there was no opinion of her such that she couldn’t see it as a stepping stone to friendship, the problem being that friendship was one thing but what this was was another, something now Pinkie couldn’t imagine trading because it was so perfect, she had never imagined that in the instant that became seconds minutes hours days and so many months till now that what might happen would happen, it was when she saw the sparkle in Dash for the first time and felt it in herself, not a sparkle like the way the moon or stars overhead did but a sparkle like something caught in the flicker of a candle-flame that was brighter for one second than it ever had been before, Pinkie saw it and she wanted to believe it was real and for a minute that had meant thinking more than she had about anything in awhile, what did the sparkle mean and why did she like it so much, and she wondered if she had sparkled too because anything like that look in a second was worth hanging on to, and from then on she had thought about Rainbow Dash a little differently even if it was silly at first, and it probably was, it was probably that day they had spent together before things turned sour for a while, no it must be before then when Pinkie had imagined an afternoon into an evening and she had looked for Rainbow Dash who hadn’t heard the twinkle in Pinkie’s voice that was there extra hard, partly because she wanted it to be and partly because she couldn’t help it, she had found Dash like she was a small frightened critter to be stopped from fleeing, Pinkie had always been good with animals, she was no Fluttershy, and sometimes she hugged too much, but in the end everything seemed to work out, and Rainbow Dash had sounded anything but happy to spend the next day with Pinkie, but Pinkie didn’t let it hurt because she had something flowery around her heart that told her it would be Okay, and even better, it was more than okay, and she’d laughed so hard that day it felt like her lungs would never stop aching, and Dash had done the same, and even though Pinkie hadn’t said it then she recalled so much later into Dash’s Eyes that instant she had seen her Eyes for the first time, really Seen them, and there was a kiss on her lips she couldn’t show, and then things had gotten complicated because of feathers and chants and things that nopony else saw, Pinkie was jealous, of course she was jealous how could she not be jealous but as much as there was jealousy in Pinkie there was always more happiness and she had told herself there was no pony worth hating even if they were a pony called a griffon and no matter what was between Dash and Gilda she could make things okay and show Dash that it didn’t matter what happened because she wanted her to be Happy, she’d told this to Dash so many months later and Dash had gasped and then smiled and then the night blurred away into grabkisstouchnoair and that sound Dash made when she was happy, really Happy, and Pinkie kissed her afterwards every time because she wanted to catch it, and that only brought out more, until the only thing left was pillows and the next morning, telling her had been hard, harder than anything and Pinkie hadn’t been sure how to do it because there was nothing in anything she remembered to prepare her for how she felt, she asked ponies and didn’t ask and threw away what they said and kept it close, and in the end the only thing she remembered was a bunching of notes inside her stomach that told her to do what felt right, a song had come and Dash had sat at the center of it like a startled bird until Pinkie was done and out of breath and her heart tipped over the edge of a cliff ready to break until Dash pulled it back, pulled it close, pulled it up to her chest and her face and breathed in a sigh of Pinkie’s name Pinkie and Pinkie’s hooves had felt like they were fireworks for days afterwards when she touched her lips and remembered a Kiss, how she could walk and see Rainbow Dash and not hold herself inside and run up and smother Dash in Kisses which was embarrassing at first but now Dash wanted them as much as Pinkie did so there was seldom a chance for them to do much else, and from then on there were nights like no other when there was a black blanket overhead a plaid picnic quilt and Dash and Pinkie and each other’s arms and the first night of those sounds and later dates and moments spent together and one time Dash and flowers and Pinkie’s heart had burst and the walls of her house from then on were painted in those sounds and whimpers and the fluttering of wings that Pinkie didn’t let stop until the morning sun came up, she was in love that was no mistake but more what she was in was Blue, she was drowning in Dash’s everything her smile and the flick of her hair and her jump and soar and giggle and reluctant blush for every peck on the cheek until she unblushed and kissed right back Pinkie had always liked the colour blue it was perfect like the sky and she could look up at day and see nothing but tiny tufts of clouds and endless avenues of empty cerulean everywhere and imagine she was waking up to Dash every time and sometimes she did and that was when the sky was no matter because everything else was perfect she was in Love, she said it too much except when she didn’t need to and Dash prickled on it sometimes but when she let it out the words were like bombs going off and Pinkie sheltered both of them with touch and touch and touching there and no sleep until the clock rolled into the early hours and the bed was sweat and tangles and Pink and Blue bliss Love, it was a funny word when Pinkie thought it because she’d always known she loved ponies everypony but never in this way because she could see somepony sad and feel her heart shrink until she made things better and she knew her friends and could count them off in her head and tell their birthdays and favorite things and what would make them happy but what she had for Dash was different because it was new and uncertain and she had no songs about it until she had made one up and in a way all of that was more exciting than anything Love, and when she saw the tiny flutter of feathers on Dash’s back that was it Love, and Dash’s reluctance was no more a challenge than it was an accommodation and Pinkie wanted too much and too little all at once but none of it mattered, because what she had simply was and Dash had it too and they both did together like they never had before Love, Pinkie learned new things like how a hug really felt and how a tongue went and how she was more and more sure of herself even when she wasn’t and Dash was always surprised and that was the sweetest thing Love, nothing could make her unwant what she had and when Dash worried it didn’t worry her because there was no certainty in life but what she would feel and she felt it so strong there was no way back and what if things fell apart and if they did then Pinkie would go from there even though she couldn’t imagine it she knew that things would be alright because she had a piece of the brightest Blue to cling to Love, no matter what Love was now and Dash was now and Pink and Blue was a prettier combination than either of them had ever imagined swirls in the sky when the sun rose and the petals of carnations that grew together in gardens and parts of dresses and strange ice-cream flavours and feathers on fuzz on bodies together that never in a million years would pull apart Love.

Pinkie and Dash pulled only an inch apart and the kiss hung in the air between them.

“Pinkie Pie—” Dash said, and stopped with a sort of choke, like the I Love You was caught in her throat.

But it didn’t matter to Pinkie, because showing I Love You was just as good as saying it, and she showed it with a pounce, and Dashed eeped and lost herself in Pink.

Pinkie forgot thought and time, and knew only onward with Dash’s body next to hers every moment was that kiss, and that kiss was each moment, forever blue and soft wings and losing herself in seconds that were that moment, instant oblivion neverending that moment, here, now, that moment with Dash beside her.

Rainbow Dash is a really good kisser, Pinkie Pie thought.

Chaos Theory (Text Version)

Reading Instructions:

It is highly recommended that this story be viewed in its intended, randomized format available in the previous chapter of this compilation. That said, to meet Fimfiction guidelines, it is presented here in text format. The scenes have been arranged aleatorically as is, but are better enjoyed with the intended 'per session' randomization

The bedroom is fit for a princess.

The walls are draped in frilly-looking decorations: multi-coloured weaves of fabric that hang down to the floor and give the appearance of butterfly-stolen silk. A four-poster bed is the centerpiece of the room, laden with fancy imported sheets and griffon-down pillows.

Princess Celestia sits at a wooden desk on the far side of the room. She’s hunched over the desk, staring at a piece of paper as though she’s expecting the words to appear of their own accord.

She sighs.

“Come now, Celestia; why the long face?”

Celestia spins around instantly. When her room is used to quiet and peace, that voice does not belong.

“Discord,” she says. Her tone still drips with ichor even after these many months.

“The one and only. I trust I wasn’t disturbing anything... though, I must say that glowering at that poor piece of paper doesn’t seem like the most enjoyable way to spend an evening.” Discord elongates his syllables in odd places, stretching them out like he’s fitting each one in his mouth before letting it loose. He hovers in the air, the lower half of his body on the side of the wall outside of Celestia’s room, his perpetually amused face and upper body poking inside.

Celestia glares at him, but reminds herself after a moment that she doesn’t need the full weight of her fury now. Things are supposed to be different.

“I would appreciate it if you would knock before entering, Discord,” she says.

Discord’s mouth turns up so much at the sides that it’s a wonder his smile doesn’t stretch past the corners of his head.

“Duly noted,” he says. His lower body extricates itself from the wall and enters the room proper. He floats lazily through the air, poking at the odd decoration with an outstretched finger.

“What is it you want, Discord? I’m in the middle of something,” Celestia says.

“I can see that,” Discord says. He stops and turns towards Celestia before lowering himself to the ground. “I suppose I’d hoped to catch you not in the middle of something... or at least not in the middle of something so rivetingly exciting.”

Celestia raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

“I don’t suppose you can pull yourself away from your ever-important work to spend a few minutes with little old me?” Discord asks.

“You may have a minute of my time. Is it something important?”

“Isn’t it always?” Discord pushes himself off from the ground and floats over to Celestia’s side, dragging his finger through the air as he grows closer to her face. The tip of his claw just misses the underside of Celestia’s chin, and she meets it with an uneasy eye.

“I was just thinking that you and I haven’t really spent any quality time together in ages. It’s been... what, at least two, three millennia?”

Celestia’s expression stays sour. “What do you mean?” she asks.

Discord rolls his eyes. “Come now, Celestia. Surely you don’t need me to spell it out for you. Look into your dictionary of subtlety. Haven’t you missed our time together, after all these years?”

Celestia turns abruptly and walks to the door of her bedroom. The door opens with a flash from her horn and she points past it with her hoof.

“Out,” she says.

“Oh, now really, I’m offended. Surely I wasn’t that bad?”

“This isn’t something I wish to discuss, Discord. That part of our past is long behind us.”

“Hmm, yes, it is, isn’t it?” Discord floats again, this time landing on his back on Celestia’s canopy bed. He supports his head with an arm bent at the elbow, and a rose appears suddenly in his teeth.

“Surely you must have some fond memories of our erstwhile trysts. That time in the Crystal Kingdom, with the carved fountain and the light that hit us from every angle; wasn’t it beautiful, Celestia?”

“Discord...”

But her horn shimmers, and the door closes again..

“You’re very pretty when you’re agitated, Celestia. I know you hate to hear it, but it’s true.”

Celestia doesn’t speak, but she turns her head further towards the bed, staring right into Discord’s face as he smiles at her.

“Think of it as a bit of relaxation, if nothing else. I don’t simply expect to float in here and pull you from your meticulous royal work for a night of unbridled passion—”

Celestia blinks, and suddenly Discord is missing from his place on the bed.

She feels something on her neck—the prickle of a claw touching her fur, and a face leaning close to her ear.

“Oh, who am I kidding? That’s exactly what I plan to do.”

Before Celestia can react, she’s on the bed, and the pillows at the head of the meticulously folded blankets bounce up as her body-weight rocks the mattress. She spins herself about as soon as she lands, but Discord is gone already, and then beside her, smiling.

“Discord...” she says again, her tone edged with warning.

“Now now, Celestia. You must surely know me well enough to know that I would never expect such a beautiful prize without doing something to deserve it.”

“I would not believe that for a second, Discord. Wouldn’t cheating be more your style?”

Discord holds a hand to his chest with a shocked expression.

“Cheating? Moi? You wound me, Celestia. I may enjoy bending the rules from time to time, but this is different. This is a game between the two of us, is it not? And you know when it comes to ‘us’ that I always play fair.”

Discord moves his hand from his chest and extends it towards Celestia.

Celestia eyes him for a moment before she raises her hoof. She places it in Discord’s claw with a nervous motion. He wraps his fingers around Celestia’s hoof and shakes.

“Wonderful! I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I do intend to hold you to that, Discord.”

For the first time, Celestia’s glower has softened into a smirk. Discord grins back at her.

“Ah, there’s the Princess I know. Yes, yes I’m sure you do.”

With the softening of her expression, Celestia’s posture relaxes as well. Still on her back, her limbs become less stiff, and she lets her legs rest on the bed, showing her soft, white stomach. A hint of blush creeps onto her cheeks as she realizes how exposed she is.

But Discord shakes his head.

“Ah, dear Celestia... as much as I might want to take you like this, it would be simply unbecoming as a beginning to the night. I said I would make this worthwhile, and I plan to adhere to that.”

Celestia blinks and Discord is gone again. She swivels her head in either direction looking for him.

He appears behind her, and his mouth is next to her ear again.

“Remember... with a little chaos, everything is much more interesting.”

Prance. The streets awash with wafting smoke and freshly opened bakeries, the city sidewalks lined with tiny round tables and the well-dressed ponies sitting at them.

Celestia y est, et Discord de l’autre côté. Celestia wears un pull à col roulé rayé blanc et noir et un béret enjoué, while Discord est vêtu d’un chapeau haut allongé et d’une mince moustache frisée qui s’enroule inégalement sur son côté droit. A cup of coffee sits in front of each of them, and a tray of pastries and baked goods in the center of the table.

Celestia prend une petite gorgée de son café and eyes the tray.

Discord raises an eyebrow at her.

“Ah, Celestia, ma délicate fleur du matin, sûrement vous devez chercher à m’amuser en prétendant que vous puissiez être un match pour l’élongation biblique de notre sélection de pâtisseries.” Discord reaches to the center of the table and grabs a scone, curved like the shell of a sea-mollusk, or an organ with a natural bend.

Celestia smirks and lowers her coffee cup. Her horn glows and a giant croissant lifts off the platter, hovering in the air above her drink.

“Discord, mon labyrinthe ambulant, mon coffre à jouets d’enfants toujours pas rangé … à présent, vous devez comprendre que le seule amusement que je vise à t’accorder est de mon propre gré. ”

Discord watches as, horn still glowing, Celestia floats the croissant over to her cup, tilts it upright, and dips the tip into her coffee for a few seconds. When she pulls the pastry out, la tête feuilletée est gorgée de torréfié foncé sucré, et elle relâche quelques gouttes dans la tasse, avec une ou deux qui s’échappent sur la nappe.

“Ça a l’aire délicieux, non ?” Celestia raises the croissant to her mouth. The end is still swollen, and she aims it squarely forward as she opens her mouth, distending her jaw until the tip of the giant thing can fit between her teeth. Au début, juste un tout petit peu entre à l’intérieur, but her horn glows further still, and more of the croissant moves, slowly disappearing. The flaky crust slides past Celestia’s lips and she closes her eyes. Elle fait un bruit autour de la pâtisserie artisanale dans sa bouche qui sonne comme un murmure de contentement sans équivoque.

Discord la regarde fixement. Several ponies from nearby tables stop to watch as Celestia tilts her head back. Seul un quart du croissant est visible. A tiny fleck of pastry falls onto Celestia’s turtleneck as the last bit slips over her tongue and vanishes into her mouth and presumably down her throat.

Celestia licks her lips and swallows. Elle se penche vers l’avant avec une certaine lueur dans ses yeux

Behind Discord, not but three blocks away, ten construction ponies wipe the beads of sweat from their brows. The tower they have been constructing for weeks, un monument colossale pour Prance, has received the final piece of its composition, et son érection peut finalement être considéré

Her first one. When she was too young to know what it had meant and it had only been an intangible bliss that her body had told her was right.

She was watching it. She had lived it a moment ago, putting her all into it, the first and most strenuous time no matter how much she practiced. They had told her she’d be fine, and she was, but nothing in the world could have convinced her of it.

Her first sun.

She watched it peak on the horizon, and it felt right.

Before she’d known what it meant to touch herself there, her hoof had been downward like it had a mind of its own. Like it was the sun cresting between valley of her marehood. She gasped the first time, wordlessly, because it had only ever been a place, and now it was a thing, and a moment, and nothing had ever felt more amazing.

She touched herself as she watched the flames flicker on the distance orb she had risen. She touched herself as she watched the ground blossom into life underneath her star of day. She touched herself as she watched the raising of everything that she had set into motion.

She was wet for the first time. It was strange, but she ignored it because it felt right. She found the button above her slit and gasped for real when she touched it, and that had been her focus then, and her hoof had rubbed frantically as the last part of the sun’s circle came into view. Touched. She had touched herself like someone desperate, suddenly needing whatever was approaching, as the land underneath needed the sun.

As the last tendril of daylight snaked its way over the distance mountains, the world woke up, and Celestia came for the first time. Her legs shook and gave out, and she fell to the ground, never tearing her eyes from it, the sight, the sun, that was hers now, and her life as a Princess with it.

And being a Princess meant being a mare, even if that meant

Discord and Celestia sit next to each other on a bluff in the moonlight, a hill on a giant cliff-face overlooking what seems to be all of Equestria.

“The moon is lovely tonight, isn’t it?” Discord asks. He wraps an arm around Celestia’s shoulders and pulls her closer.

Celestia looks up at the sky. She stares into the face of the moon and lets the light soak into her eyes.

“It is,” she says. “Luna has outdone herself tonight.”

“Yes, she certainly has.” Discord sounds distracted.

Celestia doesn’t speak, but she watches Discord until he turns his head.

“I’ve always thought there was something special about the relationship between you two. Two halves of the same whole. Each of you has what the other doesn’t. In a way, you complete each other.”

“Yes, I suppose we do. But, as much as we are different, we are also alike.”

“Mhm, I imagine so. You know, I’ve always thought Luna was a bit of a looker as well, though her derrière isn’t nearly as nice as yours.”

Celestia’s mouth falls open and she shoves Discord in the chest as hard as she can manage. Discord grins at her.

“Discord! I would thank you not to discuss my sister that way.”

“Really? Come now, Celestia... don’t tell me you haven’t compared yourself at least once. That’s what sisters do, isn’t it?”

“Not in that fashion, Discord.” Celestia’s tone is cold, but it doesn’t feel completely frozen. There’s something in the edge of her voice, almost like a star sparkling overhead.

“Well, I’m sure she must have. Luna’s always struck me as the more ‘exciting’ one. I wonder what she’d say to a roll in the moon-grass after you and I are finished...”

Celestia shoves again, but this time her hoof passes right through Discord’s chest into nothing.

“Enough! If you don’t want to spend the rest of the evening by yourself, you’ll change your line of questioning immediately.”

“You’ve really never thought about this?” Discord asks. He pulls his arm away from Celestia’s shoulders and spins around her once before sitting cross-legged just on the edge of the cliff. “You haven’t ever given her a once over? Weighing up your differences in a more tangible fashion? As I said before, I think you’ve got the leg up when it comes to posteriors, but there is something to be said for Luna’s shape. The girl looks like she has a bit more cushion on her.”

“I’ve never thought about that.” Celestia turns away, directing her glare to the moon-grass on the cliff beneath her. But Discord shifts and appears there too, and Celestia doesn’t bother to look away.

“You’ve never thought, when you were in a hot bath with only your thoughts and your hooves to occupy your time, how nice it might be to have another pony who really fit your shape to spend time with you? Somepony who might know what it feels like to have such lovely wings and such a wonderful horn to play with? Or how much she might have grown an appetite for playing with them, in all her seclusion?”

“Discord, please, that’s enough...”

Discord’s hand finds Celestia’s chin and holds it in place, and Celestia is forced to stare open-eyed at Discord as he leans closer.

“You’ve never thought about how it’s your job as a big sister to guide your little sister into the real world? You’ve never thought about how much fun it might be to teach her the way you’ve always dreamed about teaching certain other ponies?”

Celestia blushes, but Discord continues unhindered..

“Surely you can imagine it now. Just close your eyes and think for a minute. About Luna. About how beautiful she is. Her wings grace her backjust so, don’t they?”

Despite Discord’s hand on her chin and the cloying tone of his voice, Celestia’s eyes fall closed of their own accord. Just like that, the image of Luna appears behind her eyelids, facing away, smiling, unaware of Celestia’s watching from behind.

Her imaginary gaze drifts downward onto the back-most part of Luna’s hindlegs where her cutie-mark creeps over.

Discord’s claw touches the tip of Celestia’s tongue as it peeks out from between her teeth.

“I suppose you can’t be blamed; we have your rear to stare at all day, of course, but whose do you have to stare at?”

Celestia opens her eyes and finds Discord there, smiling at her in the moonlight.

“Discord...”

“Shhh. Close your eyes again. I want you to imagine something more for me.”

Celestia closes her eyes, and her mind is a blank canvas.

“Picture yourself lying alone. In bed. The sheets are warm, the night is cold but not too cold, and you’re just settling in to go to sleep. But... a stray thought catches you before you can drift off. Not of anything in particular, but enough to switch something on. Like a heat between your legs. Making your wings get stiff in that way they do. So, before you try to fall asleep, you decide it’s time to give yourself some much needed attention. You start by trailing your hoof down your chest and stomach...”

Celestia keeps her eyes closed, but she holds a hoof up and pushes forward in quiet protest. Her hoof meets only the air, and settles on her stomach when it returns.

“Discord...”

“Shh. Still imagining... you begin to enjoy yourself. Nothing racey, not just yet, but savouring the closeness of your hoof to where you really want it to be, maybe teasing, touching, getting yourself excited—when, who should walk into your bedroom but your dear sweet sister, Princess Luna. And... she looks flushed too. Excited. Her wings are stiff, you can see. And when she turns nervously at the door, you get a perfect view of her decadently shaped backside.”

“Nnnh...” Celestia lets out a noise against her better judgement. In the same stead, her hoof creeps lower, between her legs, resting just above the place where the heat is coming.

“You and Luna share a gaze for a second until she speaks. ‘I had a bad dream, sister Celestia. Can I spend the night with you?’” Discord imitates Luna’s voice perfectly, and the image in Celestia’s mind intensifies. “And of course, what big sister could say no to that? So you let her crawl under the sheets with you, and turn out the light in an effort to pretend you were about to go to sleep. But you don’t feel tired. You still feel hot, and excited, and now you feel it more, because you can tell it’s coming from Luna too. Her body is so close to yours, and she presses back against you so you can feel her wings brushing against your chest, light feathers and stiff muscles showing exactly what she’s thinking.”

“Mmmm...” Celestia’s hoof begins to move. She tries to pretend she doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she can feel Discord’s stare on her, and it only makes her brush brighter and move faster. Her mind is still focused on the scene behind her eyes.

“Then, without either of you saying anything, you move together. Your hooves find the place they were before you shared a bed, and you begin to move in tandem, both of you in a different way but at once the same. Your bodies jostle the bed as you move, your legs twitch against each other, and the heat between you adds to the fire burning up inside you. More than anything, you feel something in the air—a sort of electricity brewing a tension between your touch that makes you press into each other, wings, chest, hooves, legs, and finally grinding forward and backward on each other like you’re both looking for the same thing and only inches away from asking for it.”

“Mhm!” Celestia throws herself forward onto all fours and holds herself up with one foreleg, her other still working between her legs, sending tiny cascades of clear droplets onto the moon-grass as she imagines her sister there next to her, rocking in the same way she is, touching herself under the same moonlight, only inches away.

“Then, while you’re both in your own worlds, suddenly, something pulls you. The tension between you snaps like an elastic band and you’re pulled together, closer, and Luna turns to face you. She turns so you can feel her foreleg, bumping as you move, and her nose against yours, the softness of her breath on your fur and the whimper of her voice in the air as she touches herself the same way you are. And the two of you open your eyes.”

Celestia does. She opens her eyes.

Luna is there, smiling at her with a ragged look, like exhaustion.

“And the two of you lean forward and kiss,” Luna says.

Celestia tastes her sister’s mouth. She leans forward into Luna’s lips, hungry, panting, her hoof between her legs, moaning a stream of empty, desperate syllables into her sister's night-black mouth.

“Mmmm!” Celestia moans, alabaster hoof blurring in the moonlight. Luna is more reserved, but still present, still hot. Her wings flare out on her back and her body shudders as Celestia kisses her, breaking the circle of their lips every few seconds to dive in again, panting with fresh breath each time, and moving, still moving her hoof.

As Celestia leans forward into the kiss, stronger than each time before, she feels the tip of her horn touch her sister’s.

Without a word, she

She knew she shouldn’t have been watching. Beyond the fact that it was quite rude to spy on somepony while they were bathing, this was her mother.

But she had to see.

The bathing pool shimmered as Aurora stepped into it. The second her hoof touched the water, a great yellow light spread through it, flickering and changing between gold and silver every few seconds before settling back to its natural colourlessness, then lit only by the persistent glow of Aurora’s body.

Celestia’s mother sighed as she submerged herself in the steaming pool. She closed her eyes and let her shimmering multilcoloured mane fall to her shoulders and then into the water.

Celestia watched. She bit her tongue to still the sound of her breathing as she felt her body tingle.

Her hoof moved downward.

She knew this was even worse. Watching her mother was one thing, and at least something she could pass off as a wanton curiousity if caught or questions. But this was something altogether different.

In Celestia’s mind it was more-or-less the same, or motivated by the same desire. She was curious, she assured herself. Surely there could be no harm in watching.

She couldn’t ignore the ache of her body as she watched, though.

Her mother was beautiful. A stature so perfect, like a statuesque edifice of perfection carved into the shape of an alicorn. Her wings were so majestic. Her mane was so bright. Her coat was so soft...

Celestia held back a gasp as she snapped her mouth closed and felt the sensitive button at the top of her marehood. She shouldn’t be doing this, she knew. But that only made the tingle of her touch more intense.

She watched as her mother lowered her head into the water and pulled it back with her mane soaking wet, a rainbow of glowing prismatic strands now hanging low past her shoulders.

Her mother looked so good with her hair down. Celestia bit her lip and rubbed harder.

She watched as her mother leaned back in the bathing pool and let herself float on her back, spreading her legs into the warm water and sighing again as every part of her soaked.

Celestia stared through the water, between her mother's legs.

Her hoof became a blur as she watched. Her mother there, so beautiful, the utmost perfection. One day she would be like her mother, sublime in beauty and poise, the picture of physical aspiration for everypony to admire, so blessed in appearance that she could drive a stallion or mare mad just from a glimpse of her exposed body.

Celestia stared intently at her mother’s underside. She imagined that she could be close to her, sharing in the relaxing caress of hot spring-water and drifting close on her own back until her body touched her mother’s, and they both turned, smiling and reaching out to touch each other. To touch her mother’s hooves, her wings, to run a hoof along her soft, svelte stomach until she reached the delicate folds of her marehood and then to touch her there and hear the tiny moan to be eked from her lips—

Celestia shut her eyes and bit down on her tongue. She tried to keep silent, but a squeak made it past her lips as she came. Her hoof became slick as she clenched her legs, squeezing her foreleg between them and inhaling through her nose as she came, imagining the softness of her mother’s lips, body, coat, caress, everything.

Aurora made a soft splashing sound as she turned onto her side, resting with her eyes off in the distance as she reoriented herself in the pool. Turning on her side in Celestia’s direction—

Celestia’s horn glowed not seconds after her spasms stopped and she promptly disappeared, leaving only the faintest trace of moisture on the stone where she had stood as evidence she had ever been there.

As Auora’s eyes found the spot where her daughter had been moments ago, she smiled and closed her eyes.

“Always at that age,” she said to herself, and dunked her head into the

In the halls of Canterlot Castle, the walls are lined with decoration. Stained glass windows: images of saintly Equestrian presence hewn by master craftsponies—and also tapestries; some with a story, and all the more with beauty.

Celestia and Discord walk in the center of the hall between two of the great banners, red fabric on one side, and violet on the other. Discord’s mouth is twisted up in a smile.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Celestia? I daresay I still feel like you haven’t quite loosened up yet.” Discord stops and leans on the nearby violet tapestry , letting his hand vanish through it and rest against the wall to keep him upright.

Celestia stops and turns with a wrinkled nose.“Your definition of ‘fun’ is one often at odds with mine, Discord,” she says.

“But I thought this was something we both shared!” Discord pulls his arm away and stands up straight, leaving his hand on the wall behind the tapestry. “Surely you can’t tell me that when you agreed to spend the evening with me that you were expecting me to have to drag you every step of the way .”

Celestia’s eyes drift to the side. Her mouth scrunches up.

“I...”

“Won’t you live a little, Celestia? For all the ponies in the halls around you? They lived, and some of them did a not-so-good job of it if they’re hanging up here. That one looks like he stabbed a dragon in the toe. Iron Hoof the Iron-Headed, we’ll call him.”

Celestia stares at the ground with Discord in front of her. His smile is as big and pleading as he can manage. He leans in close and lifts Celestia’s head up with with his remaining hand.

“Please?” he asks with great, wide eyes.

Celestia looks away from him with her head held in place.

“I... not here, Discord. This is a special place. I feel like...”

“Yes?”

“I feel like I’m being watched,” Celestia says, and pulls her head away. “Watched by the sacred ponies that are on our every side.”

Discord throws his hand up in the air, and its brother jumps from the wall to join it, resealing itself on Discord’s wrist.

“So let them watch! These old dead ponies haven’t seen any action in who-knows-how-long. One would think they might enjoy the show. Give them a waggle of that fantastic rump of yours.”

Celestia tries to look away again, but she blushes. Discord’s eye twinkles.

“Aha! I knew it! I knew you weren’t dead inside. What was it I said? Do you like me leering at you that way? Talking about your magnificent backside and all the things you should be doing with it?”

Celestia doesn’t shake her head, but she keeps her gaze averted.

“Or...” Discord says. “Or, is it possible you enjoy the idea of being watched? You actually like the thought of all these prim and proper legends of yore watching their Princess, their great descendant, shame herself in their presence by presenting herself like a wanton one-night mare needing to be filled?”

Celestia’s face turns a red that contrasts brilliantly with the alabaster of her coat.

Discord sidles up to her with his eyebrows arched. He lets his hand rest of the small of her back, right above her tail. Celestia shudders as Discord's fingers tap against the top of her rear.

“Oh, Celestia. That is it, isn’t it? You’re a naughty girl, and you want all these old ponies to watch, don’t you?”

“No...” Celestia says. But the stutter of her tongue betrays her.

“Show them.”

Discord moves his hand up Celestia’s tail, running his fingers through the aurora colour of her hair.

“I...”

“Why don’t you start by bending forward a bit more?”

Celestia looks as though she means to walk away for a moment, but she collapses her stance just as quickly. After a few seconds, her legs slide away, and her body goes lower, arching her back and pointing her ass right at the crimson tapestry on the nearby wall.

“Do you like them watching, Celestia?” Discord asks. He runs his hand back down Celestia’s tail and lets it rest on her rump. His fingers squeeze the well-shaped cushion of Celestia's butt, and she shivers, her head facing the ground.

“Yes,” she says. Her voice wobbles, but she sounds sure of herself.

“But everypony can see how brazen you’re being...” Discord says with a cluck of his tongue for punctuation.

Celestia raises her head suddenly and stares Discord straight in the eye. With his hand still on her rump, Celestia shoves herself backwards, and Discord is treated to a handful of royal ass before his hand his forced down further, right between Celestia’s legs.

His fingers are instantly soaked.

“Let them watch,” Celestia says. Discord smiles at her.

“Do you hear, everypony?” Celestia asks to the decorated hall. The stained glass windows and historical banners give her no response but for a slight wave as the ambient pressure in the hall dips.

“Look how your Princess presents herself so blatantly. Look how she drips onto your sacred floor, eager to commit the foulest of debauchery in your presence.”

Discord’s eyebrows peak at the word ‘drips’, and he runs his finger between Celestia’s legs, prompting a fresh coat of slickness to leak from Celestia’s slit and for Celestia to groan as it does.

“Watch your Princess beg with her body to be taken and violated and used so everypony can see.”

Discord slides his hand forward again and Celestia gasps, throwing her head down to her chest for a moment before managing to pull it up.

“See how badly your Princess... wants it...” Celestia grinds herself back onto Discord’s hand, and he rewards her by slipping the tips of his fingers inside, taking care not to poke or pry with the the spiky talon protrusions. Celestia shudders and grunts in the same motion, her voice is so low it sounds almost unlike her, like a fearsome monster of some kind has possessed her body.

“There’s the Celestia I remember,” Discord says. He shoves his hand further forward and is met by a backwards thrust from Celestia, as well as a tightening of her tunnel as her lips clench around his fingers.

“Fuck,” Celestia says. It’s a meaningless word that says everything she needs to say. She can feel the eyes of millenia on her. Every one of her ancestors—her parents, her grandparents, the ponies that were birthed to creation when the world was born, that fought great wars in the stead of Equestria, that conquered nations and internal strife and all things before to bring her here, to power today, so she could stand before them like a desperate whore and let herself leak like a faucet all over the pristine floor of their conquest.

Discord's fingers bottom out inside Celestia’s pussy once or twice before he withdraws his hand. His fingers drip, and he raises them to his mouth, taking a brief taste before lowering his hand.

“Well, now that we’ve found the real you,” Discord says, sidling closer to Celestia and giving her a pat on the butt, “why don’t we have some fun and

Celestia was naughty.

She knew the guard was watching her. She watched him dart between dark corners as he followed her, hiding his breath every time he crept into a hidden nook he thought nopony knew was there. But of course, Celestia was the Princess, and she knew the ins and outs of every inch of the castle.

She knew the guard was touching himself on the other side of the door. She’d caught glimpses of his erection as he attempted to avoid detection, and each time she’d felt a tingle run through her body knowing he was so hard just from watching her. From ogling her, essentially—staring at her behind as it bobbed back and forth, walking down the royal corridors en route to her room. She made him that hard.

On one hoof, she had considered stopping and scolding him for lusting after royalty in such a fashion. Princesses were to be admired, not wanted in that way.

But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She liked the feeling of being wanted. Even as the guard was on the other side of her bedroom door, peering at her through the crack that she should have had mended ages ago, she had never felt more alive.

She wanted more.

The bed was the natural place. A good enough view from the door, and enough room to lie out just so, with her wings spread and her legs doing the same, tilting up on her back to put her royal rump and soft, desperate-for-attention marehood next to it.

She heard a groan through the door and imagined the guard holding back his load at the sight in front of him. Good, yes. She wanted to commend him, but that would break the guise of the game she was playing.

So she touched herself. It wasn’t hard. She could have pretended the guard wasn’t there, but that would have made things less fun. She wanted to know he was there—to know that on the other side of her royal chambers, one of her guards was furiously clopping to the site of his Princess caressing her pussy, putting on a show just for him, moaning and sticking her tongue out and shaking her ass at him in plain sight as she frigged herself.

Celestia couldn’t help it. She was loud. She made noise, when she almost never made noise. ‘Ohhh.’ A simple sound, but one she couldn't hold back. She waited a second, then heard the guard echo it. The return only spurred her on more.

Before she knew it, she had her eyes open and was staring, staring right at the door. It was too much of a give, would ruin everything, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to stare right into that guard’s face as he came—as she, his Princess came, and he did the same, and she imagined the big hot sticky gobs of spunk he could be coating her in, stinging her body with the heat of his climax, groaning and milking himself and Celestia’s body collapsing in orgasm as he did so and sharing something so wonderful and so awful with somepony watching her—

“—fuck!”

Celestia heard the sound from the other side of the door and knew the guard was there, that he couldn’t hold back any longer. Suddenly, no longer could she. She came, and for the first time ever, she sprayed, squirting a stream of clear liquid up onto herself, narrowly missing her own mouth.

She listened, hoping against hope in the throes of her own orgasm, gasping and grunting as she did, that she would hear a match.

She swore she could hear a thump. Some quiet groans and a series of thumps. Or splats.

Like he was cumming right there, shooting onto the wood of Celestia’s bedchamber door.

Celestia closed her eyes and tapped her clit, and came again. She came until she heard the patter of semen on her door stop, and then remembered to breathe.

She counted to twenty to give the guard time to get away, then woke up and went to her door.

It didn’t seem right to be wasteful, after

“Princess!”

“Twilight!”

Both of them will cry out. They will cry names, names that they have said so much before and only now meant.

The wine will course through both of them. Celestia will need less than Twilight, but both of them will have the taste of red still on their lips as at first they kiss, and then kiss more, and finally fall to the bed in a tumble of wings and bodies snaked around each other as the heat of their skin threatens to light the canopy ablaze.

Celestia will bury her mouth in Twilight and bring the first moans, and Twilight will be aghast and unsure and so overwhelmed by pleasure that her first two orgasms will take her completely by surprise. When her body is covered in sweat and shaking from pleasure, she will see the Princess’s slit waving in plain view of her face, and will take her first step in a new lesson and extend her tongue, and Celestia will moan like she’s forgotten how to speak but needs to summarize the whole of her want in a single syllable stretched out through time.

Celestia will lap at Twilight’s slit again, and shiver when the high-pitched squeaks of pleasure reach her lower lips. And Twilight will touch gingerly with her tongue, and then more emphatically, because she will have Celestia as guidance, and will do what feels good to her, and she will find the bump she knows feels so good, and get Celestia to grind backwards, pressing her buttcheeks into Twilight’s face, and Twilight will moan even louder and savour burying herself in her dear Princess.

And they will continue, tasting each other and edging closer, Twilight more and more ahead of schedule until Celestia pauses and sits, and lets Twilight struggle for air between laps of Celestia’s cunt, and loves every minute of it, until she feels close too, and announces it.

“Does my... number one student... want her teacher’s... girlcum... all over her face?” And Celestia will be a different mare when she is drunk, and finally free to live with Twilight what she’s always wanted.

“Yes, Princess!” Twilight will say. “Me too, I’m so close.”

“Cum for me, Twilight. Cum for your Princess.”

“Ahhhh!”

And both will dive away into pleasure, soaking each other’s mouths and forgetting to breathe until muscles have unclenched and everything has passed by, all but the opportunity for a new door that has opened into endless possibilities that both have seen and wanted, but never stepped

Solaris* is hurting. He’s felt an ache inside himself ever since that first touch, and now it’s gone from a want to a need. What’s more, Eris is dancing in front of him like a playful temptress, waving her lithe body in the air with eyelash flickers and ‘come hither’ fingers. Saying yes, please, inside, but pulling away every time Solaris attempts to step closer.

“Eris,” Solaris says. The name is an anguish breathed on dying lips. Dying for want of her, please. “Please,” he says. Solaris lurches forward, erection sticking straight out from his belly like a clumsy scepter.

Eris watches the body of the Prince in the air for a moment, staggering forward in search of penetration. She lets the Prince get close, so close as she lies in a supine position in the air, fully presented, tiny, eminently fuckable slit that looks oh-so-soft...

And then away. Solaris could feel the tip just there, just prodding at the edge of heat and wet and almost inside. This is unending agony. He howls like a war has been declared.

“Please!” he says again.

Eris grins. "You sound like you really need it,” she says.

“Yes, I do. Please, a thousand times please, just let me inside...” Solaris thrusts again, and once more Eris bobs backwards in the air.

“Well,” she says, “do you promise that you won’t cum right away? I wanna at least have a little fun.”

“Yes, please, I promise, I swear I’ll last as long as you want, just, please, please...” Another thrust.

This time, Solaris stops. He’s held in mid-motion by an invisible hand, and Eris is the one holding it with her real hand, a lion’s paw grafted onto the side of her slender form.

“Really promise?” she asks. Her voice is soft and sultry and she sticks out her bottom lip in a pout.

Solaris groans. His dick twitches and flings a glob of precum onto the floor.

“I promise! Please!”

Eris seems to consider for a moment. She holds a finger to her mouth.

“Well...”

The hold breaks. Solaris falls forward.

He doesn’t even need to align himself. His cock is guided true to its target, and in an instant he goes from empty air to full, velvet-slick flesh, the insides of a trickster goddess wetter and hotter than the rest of the world has to offer.

Solaris doesn’t make a sound. His mouth falls open in a wordless combination between a scream and a groan.

Eris smiles and sucks in a breath through her teeth.

“Oooh, so big. Be gentle with me...”

Solaris nods absentmindedly and is already halfway out. Thrust. He doesn’t waste any time. The first bottoming out is ecstasy, even the shudder of Eris’ soft draconequus body. It’s perfect. Every facet together is perfect, but together they’re an intoxicating mix of exotic parts, each one of them more enticing than the last. Solaris wants to rub each horn and feel each wing and claw and paw and the touch of every hand softly against his chest as he buries himself inside the achingly tight hole in front of—

“You promised,” Eris reminds, tracing a single, long clawed finger along the side of Solaris’ neck.

Solaris opens his eyes and nods. He thrusts again and grunts. His balls feel full.

“I know,” he says. Thrust. Thrust.

Eris grins and giggles as Solaris pounds away like a stallion possessed.

“Just don’t have too much fun. There’s lots more to do.” Eris looks up at the ceiling with an absent look in her eyes.

“After this, maybe we can

That’s it. One last thrust and he bottoms out, and she can feel him all the way inside.

Her clench is her warning, and a sound in her throat like a strangled profanity choked out by the tidal wave of her ecstasy.

She feels him twitch. She clenches harder.

She’s

“Fuck me,” she says. She shoves her haunches back towards him and grunts in the process, pressing the soft cushion of her backside into his crotch.

“My word,” Discord says. He looks to Celestia, then down to her ass, then back up to her face again as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “It’s not like you to be so forward—”

Celestia growls and shoves herself backwards. Discord moves with her in the process, and the suddenness of the shove makes him lose his footing. In a rare moment of unpreparedness, he meets the floor on his back, and makes an exaggerated oof as a bit of air is knocked from his lungs.

Celestia is on him in an instant. She bares her teeth like she’s possessed and grinds herself on Discord’s body, pinning his arms to the floor with her hooves and sliding herself over his stomach and pelvis.

“No more playing,” she says with the hint of a snarl in her voice. “Enough waiting. Enough pretending. We both want this, and I’m tired of acting otherwise.”

“Celestia—”

Discord begins to speak, but Celestia silences him with her mouth. She kisses him emphatically, forcing his eyes closed as she pushes her tongue into his mouth. She moans into him and continues grinding, blushing red like she’s in heat. Her horn flickers with sparks at the tip and her wings flare out from her back.

As she kisses the draconequus underneath her, Celestia positions her flank and slides downwards. Her target hits dead center and Discord slides inside her.

She moans louder for a moment before pulling her face away, leaving Discord panting.

“Now fuck me,” she says. She raises her hips for a moment and stares into Discord’s eyes, like she’s daring him something.

Discord moves his mouth to make a sound, but Celestia lowers herself in an instant, taking the whole of Discord's cock inside. Discord groans in a way very unlike himself. His eyes close.

“I want you to fuck me like I’m not a Princess,” Celestia says and raises herself up again before slamming back down. Her cunt makes a loud, wet smack against Discord’s crotch as she buries him home. “I want you to fuck me like I’m a desperate, filthy pony in need of relief.” Smack. “Or not a pony at all. Like I’m an animal.”

Celestia stops with the tip of Discord’s cock inside her, and he opens his eyes, finding a brief respite in Celestia’s sudden insistence.

He’s allowed a second of reprieve before he feels Celestia move again—but he moves with her. His body stands of its own accord, puzzling, until he notices the glow of Celestia’s horn, pulling him upright, and then pulling him forward as Celestia positions herself, standing on all fours and spreading her hindlegs wide to give him perfect access to her love-hole. Discord tries to take initiative, but Celestia forces him back with a violent shove, guiding him inside her dripping hole in the same motion. Discord’s back meets stone, and Celestia pins him there, growling as she gyrates her ass on his dick.

“Come on then,” she says. She looks back at Discord with a fire in her eyes. “Fuck me properly. Get on with it.”

Discord hesitates for a moment. Celestia shoves back against him again, and his lack of choice becomes apparent.

So he fucks her.

His thrusts are entrenched in trepidation more than Celestia’s motions—she continues to grind herself backwards, smooshing her supple, well-toned royal buttcheeks onto Discord’s body and squeezing him as he bottoms out inside her pussy. Where normally Discord would seem perfectly composed in almost any situation, here, at last, he appears in over his head.

His eyes dart back and forth as the steady smack smack smack of Celestia’s booty onto his rod drives him closer to an unprepared finish line. He makes once or twice to pause, but Celestia pays him no attention. She keeps thrusting, taking over for Discord when his motion stills, riding him like a mare in the desperate clutch of seasonal hormones, needing so badly to be grabbed and taken and filled with cock and the payload thereafter.

Discord’s eyes twitch as the rest of him does.

He can’t stop. He can’t ask her to stop, because that would mean giving in. But Celestia is tight, so tight, and dripping all over him, all over the floor, splattering sprinkles of her aroused moisture everywhere with each backward shake of her hips, and there’s nothing on her mind but continuing.

Discord looks around as though searching for a distraction. He finds the well decorated castle walls and sunlight streaming in through a nearby window, but neither provides him with respite.

As he’s dragged over the precipice of his proximity, his wings flutter, so like a frantic filly’s might as they’re guided to the euphoria of their first time.

This is not Discord’s first time, but the turning of the tables makes him feel as young as he ever has.

He cums without warning. Celestia doesn’t still herself for a second—as Discord twitches and empties himself, Celestia’s body is a blur, thrusting backwards onto Discord’s shuddering prick over and over again. Shot after shot of creamy spunk sprays inside her, so much that it begins to drip, mingling with the wetness of her arousal and dripping obscenely on the floor, the perfect mixture of hot sex from both parties.

Discord groans and grips Celestia’s rump. He squeezes her cheeks as he cums, Celestia’s pussy massaging his rod for every drop of jizz that he can manage, and more still when his posture finally goes slack and his cock ceases its twitching.

Celestia grinds herself back one final time, rubbing herself in circles to make sure every inch of her insides are coated with Discord’s cum. Finally, she lets him go, and Discord slumps to the floor. He lets out a long, exhausted breath and closes his eyes, tilting his head up to the ceiling.

The steady sound of fluid leaking from Celestia’s pussy makes a noise like a trickling fountain as she turns around, making the castle floor in dire need of a cleaning.

As she looks over the shuddering form of the draconequus she’s just ravaged, her eyes flicker again.

He’s still hard.

Before he can catch his breath, Discord feels two hooves on his chest, pressing hard and pulling him upright. He opens his eyes to watch Celestia smirking at him, her horn shimmering to help as she pulls Discord to his feet.

“Can’t we take just a short breather—”

Celestia plugs his mouth with her tongue. She flaps her wings, still standing out from her back, stiff and powerful. The air around her shakes and she pulls away from the kiss with a strand of saliva hanging from her lips.

“Not yet,” she says. “Not until

The grass is as bright as a fresh-green carpet waving in the summer breeze. At the head of a meadow, a giant centuries-old tree, or even older, stretches its branches into the horizon.

Underneath, at the base of its roots, a filly with a white coat and pink mane leans against the trunk of the tree and sighs. She closes her eyes and tilts her head up, basking in the sunlight of the idyllic summer sky. Her posture is regal despite her relaxed state. She splays her sizable wings out against the brown bark, and the horn atop her head spirals into a perfect point that aims towards the sun, as though wishing it to come even closer.

A cool wind wafts against her cheek. She smells the scent of fresh flowers born from the earth, every petal’s fragrance lifted into the air and carried throughout the world. She opens her eyes.

There is a flower underneath her nose: a pink carnation, perhaps, or an equally playful light-red blossom.

The boy holding the flower smiles at her. He’s a mix of pieces and species, and he looks mischievous in his short stature.

“Discord!” the filly says. She moves to throw a hoof at him, to bat him away, but stays herself, instead moving her foreleg gently to the flower. Discord’s free hand meets her hoof and guides her to the flower’s stem, holding her there.

“I brought this for you,” he says, his voice playful and brimming with youth.

Celestia looks at the flower, then back up to the boy. She blinks slowly and realizes she’s beginning to blush.

“T-thank you,” she stammers, her tongue feeling too big for her mouth.

“Think of it as but a tiny piece of the beauty you grace the world with each day.”

Celestia’s face glows almost bright enough to match her mane. She smiles and lowers her head. Discord clenches his claw tighter around her hoof, and a sigh escapes from Celestia’s lips like she can’t hold it back.

“Thank you,” she says again.

She lifts the flower, moving her foreleg in tandem with the boy’s arm. She watches the pink petals of the flower as they come closer, then closes her eyes as the center of the blossom touches the tip of her nose. She inhales deeply, soaking in the scent of the senses-laden pollen.

She feels a tickling sensation on her nose and opens her eyes.

A flash of yellow and black ekes into her vision past her nose before she hears the buzzing of wings. The bee raises its behind, its stinger poised for delivery.

Discord shrugs and releases his hand.

The bee

Even the air of the room is soaked with sweat. The bedsheets are so tangled as to be unrecognizable, flung haphazardly in different directions from the bed and scattered on the floor or various furniture throughout. The pillows are discarded in the same fashion; the only thing that remains on the bed are the two bodies lying next to each other, one an alicorn, the other a draconequus.

Celestia and Discord are both panting, lying with their heads pointing in opposite directions.

Celestia’s mane looks wrung out, as though it’s been held under a steady stream like a fountain of perspiration. Her feathers are frayed at the tips, and her wings are wedged limply between her back and the bed like they’re too tired to flap ever again. Her horn shimmers at the tip, and her tongue hangs out of her mouth as she sucks in great mouthfuls of air.

Discord is slightly more composed, but he looks similarly exhausted. His various assemblies of appendages woven together from different species all look equally fatigued, and while he doesn’t seem as outright on the edge of collapse as Celestia does, he’s a far stretch from his usual playful demeanour. His eyes are closed, unlike Celestia’s, and the look on his face says he could go for a very long nap.

He speaks first amidst the panting.

“Well,” he says, “how was that? Not disappointing, I hope?”

Celestia takes in a deep breath, grins, and shakes her head. “Not in the slightest,” she says. Her voice beams with an indeterminable youthfulness.

Discord grins back at her. “I dare say I had a bit of fun myself,” he says

“I would hope so,” Celestia says. She sits up on the bed and turns to Discord, raising a hoof to brush her damp, low-hanging mane away from her eyes. A bit of it flickers to life, but quickly falls back to its subdued state as she tucks it behind her ear.

The bed creaks slightly as Discord sits up as well. His tiny wings flutter on his back as he adjusts his posture, arching his spine until he hears it crack. He relaxes and sits with a hunched over posture, leaning towards Celestia as he turns to her, cross-legged.

The pair stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, neither of them saying anything. Celestia still breathes loud enough to hear, but Discord is silent. His chest rises and falls as Celestia’s does, the two of them inhaling and exhaling together, looking at each other unblinking as seconds tick away on an invisible clock.

Somewhere, a barely audible minute hand passes an unspecified number.

“Well,” Discord says with a conclusory air in his voice, “I suppose I should let you get back to... whatever it is you were doing.” He sounds almost disappointed as he raises himself up from the bed and drifts towards the door. The lock clicks as it slides and Discord pulls the door open.

“Feel free to drop by if you’re ever in the mood for—”

Click. The lock turns back, followed in short order by the door slamming shut. Discord withdraws his hand and turns around.

On the center of the bed, Celestia is standing on all fours. Her mane bristles with colour again, waving about her head like a set of lights in the sky. As Discord watches, the glow of her horn vanishes and is replaced by a smirk turning up the corners of her mouth.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Discord,” she says. “But right now....”

Celestia scrapes one of her forelegs on the mattress bereft of sheets, like she’s a bull about to charge.

“Well... the night isn’t over just yet.”

With Him

She’s in love with him.

She doesn’t have to say it. She tells him in little signals that never pass her lips, because she has no words to say what she wants to say, no matter how simple she tries to make it.

She tells him with her eyes. She smiles at him and throws emerald sparkles through the air in the hopes that the tiny fragments caught in sunlight that reach his cheek will pass the warmth of her longing through the afternoon air. She stares when she shouldn’t. She winks. She follows him with her eyes because, no matter what the rest of her says, her heart can’t bare to look away.

She tells him with her touches. She rubs up against him when they’re close. His body is hot, but hers is hotter, no matter the mood of the weather or whether the world says she should be. She wonders sometimes if she’s burning inside, because there’s a fire in her chest that’s so bright when he’s around. It makes her feel like her skin is at risk of catching aflame, and the only way to put it out is with him. With the pressing of her body into his, feeling his coat, his fur, his frame like a moving bundle of bricks wrapped inside a reassuring housing. She hugs him, rubs his back, touches him here and there and whenever she can manage, because the tingle of her skin only inches away is a rivulet of rainwater forming a trickle into a dry mouth. And she is so thirsty.

She wants to tell him with a taste. She wants to let him feel her tongue on his and to coat the inside of his palette in her caress, to coax murmurs from him that will tickle the insides of her ears. She wants to run her mouth over every inch of his body and drink him in like a dessert: a platter of tastes and textures that she’ll hold on her taste-buds until her world ends.

But she doesn’t need that to be drunk off him. He’s in her veins every minute, like a heady red wine that makes the afternoons blur into evenings into her dreams that are never worth waking from.

His room. She goes to it when he’s gone, so much that she’s forgotten the shame of it. When he’s at work, she finds time to pull herself away, slipping through the always open crack in his doorway and into the tiny wooden compartment he calls a place to sleep. It’s always been too small for him.

She throws herself onto the bed and soaks up the sheets. She turns in them, trying to catch the invisible bits of him left behind: his smell, his taste, his touch. She caresses his rough quilting like it might give her the texture of his body through osmosis, trading the particles of his frame into hers and making them together. She abandons her guilt in want. There’s only him there, and she never wants to leave. She convinces herself only by omission, and by remembrance of a when that never happened, that he walked in, might walk in, and find her there.

Find her there. Please, find her there. Find her tangled in the same-colour cotton of his sheets, writhing and tumbling in the remnants of his presence, giggling softly to herself because she never imagines he’ll find her there. Find her with her face buried in his pillow, breathing the scent of him, heat, warmth, heavy days and burning overhead and silence, the fragrance of his mane like sandy speckles that she can inhale and keep forever in her dreams. Find her there, wide-eyed and unspeaking when she turns, because she’s caught up in bed-sheets and desire, clinging desperately to the clump of softness like it’s his body, and her mouth hangs open because she can’t let it go no matter how much she wishes he might walk over wordlessly and replace that bundle of linen with himself, and then move, the scent becoming real, and warm skin on warm skin and closed eyes and the sun will be everywhere.

She dreams of him at night. When there’s no part of him she can reach but the heavy stock of his frame through the half-lit wall she imagines when her eyes close. He’s there, he’s always been there, and she holds one hoof to him, always, when her other is elsewhere. She imagines him meeting her, through the wall or on the grass or floating in nowhere. There’s too much real, and she knows what she wants can’t belong. Touch.

She remembers his touch through blurred film reels; shoulder bump, side nudge, heads tilted towards each other and pressing the sweat from each others’ brows like a secret seal that might hold them together, binding them with sunlight as the agent of fusion. She would hold him like that forever, and dream sometimes in the seconds of her closed eyes of more, pushing him and shoving him and showing him what it means, what she feels, what she needs from him. She whispers his name and it tastes sour on her tongue, but it’s a sourness she loves. She would drink the bitterest of spoiled waters just to taste him once, and to let him taste the word of his name on her lips.

During winter, when it was cold, she mulled over in her head the chill of her room. Too cold, she thought she might say, and clamber for warmth in the only place it was, because no matter the frozen bitterness of the winds, or the snow, or a cruel season that only exists to make the spring brighter, he was always warm, and she could feel it in him from miles away. She pleaded with herself instead of him, and drew the only conclusion from the coldness of her skin that her fur had failed to keep from her, and reached out longingly to the wall across the room, uncaring of the frost that bit at her, because her imagining was worth it.

One time. When she hated herself for having it then, her love for him, in the way it was so awful and wrong and something she kept inside like a guilty secret, which it was. There was a moon ablaze with silent stars, and the air seemed to crackle with an ambient jitter of lightning on skin that only she could sense. Camping. They shared a tent and familiar nods, shuffling past the always jarring shrillness of the fabric signalling their entrance, and found more comfort than there should have been on blankets thrown over rocks and dirt. Goodnight, he said. Goodnight, she said. But she couldn’t push him away.

Whether she pretended or remembered otherwise afterwards is something she can’t reconcile. The blankets were so thin she could feel his heartbeat then. It was like the rhythm of the forest around her, and the pulsing of the stars in the sky overhead, beating in time to a primeval presence willing them to life, burning brightness in perpetual birth. She felt it in herself, like she might explode and decay in an instant, and realized that in all of time, the possibility of her self lie in that single moment.

She touched him. His shoulder first, that firm, almost rock-like hardness of his bone underneath muscle, and the fur she ached for beyond reason and measure and forgiveness. Unspoken. And she touched him more, shuffling closer to him, ignorant of the space between them until it moved in obligation, and they were together, and something inside her unbecame itself.

There was no more regret for her want in that moment; only propinquity, and the gentle hum of his breathing, chest rising and falling, and her ear to his side, his shoulder, and there where her forelegs draped across his chest to feel it settle with every bit of air that past his lips. Lips that she wanted. So close, but only drawing the taste of him through his touch, through the soft bristles of his fur, through the size of his body that even she felt small against, so small she wished he would turn and take her and let her disappear until there was only him, and she would be absolved of her self, because that was all she had ever wanted.

She heard no give in his breathing, and so she moved from both hooves on him to one on herself. So selfish. But she couldn’t let it go if holding on meant the warmth in her touch that she had stolen from him might burn her forever. She rocked slightly when her leg moved, but kept quiet, hearing the subtleties in every hiss of her breath and changing it to match his, so there could be nothing but their closeness and the soft shuffling of the blankets as her hoof moved. As it moved and felt her and him at once, like two polar shores on a vast ocean. Hers, damp and dirty, and littered in debris from her visits—his strong and bare, and tempered by the sun, untouched by any but the caress of the sky overhead; and how badly she longed to be there.

His scent was all, thick and strong and in the air moving to her nose through the breaths she gulped louder than she could pretend anymore, and shuddering, and forgetting her potential volume because of him, as it was always him, and no wall between them to keep her hoof from his, and she found it, and shuddered in that moment, and buried her face in his fur like a sky of something washing away her vision and the tears that came, and they did come, so strong, so that her face was damp, and all of her was like that beach in the rain, ignoring the weather because it had pristine sand to imagine, tracing a figure in the hot white canvas that it could at last touch, burning herself from breathing it, breathing him, soaking in him and herself and bathing together in the delicious bittersweet sorrow of their one moment together even if only she was awake.

Down. Breath against his neck, and a stir. She was too tired to care. She had to give up then because there was nothing in her left to matter. He could have turned and she would have smiled at him with all the empty apology in the world abandoned, because there was no bliss like the blossom of her body in that moment, and never would be again.

But he said nothing.

She slept in a world away from her dreams that night, because she had been so close to them that they were frightened.

Once and never again. She would remember him in that instant forever, because he was hers then, no matter whether he knew.

She tells herself it will be someday, that she will abandon her foolishness or find a way to make things real again. She doesn’t know. He never speaks to her dreams. No gives. He’s always there, but he feels so far away.

Every night, he looks at her with the same look, that tears her towards him in a way she must hide behind her eyes.

Goodnight, Applejack, he says.

Goodnight, she says. She can’t bear his name. But it will be on her lips when she sleeps.

Enharmonic: a Movement in Four Parts

Reading Instructions:

This story is designed with audio accompaniment in mind. While reading speeds vary, it is recommended that either before, after, or during your reading of this chapter that you listen to the companion improvisational piano piece performed by Elision.

There’s a small practice room with a piano. It’s big enough for the instrument itself and a pony or two—maybe three.

The latch on the lock clicks and the door opens. Two ponies step inside, crowding in the doorway as they negotiate the cramped space.

“I don’t see why you can’t just wait until we’re back to your place.”

“I am afraid I simply cannot wait. I need to see how your practice has been coming along. The evening will still be there when we are done.”

“Fine.”

The two voices dance together in a mix of contrast and harmony. The first is young, impetuous, and perky like a blast of cool ice-cream on an winter morning. It sounds put-out and eager to get on with things.

The second is vaguely foreign. It pronounces each word with a slight accent, something overseas, maybe Stalliongrad or Germaney.. It sounds more cultured as well—the diction is articulate despite the unfamiliarity of the syllables. Where the first voice sounds rushed, the second sounds relaxed.

The first voice belongs to a light blue unicorn with white stripes in her mane. She approaches the piano in center of the room, grumbling under her breath. Her horn glows and she pulls a set of sheet music from a nearby shelf, setting it on the piano without any particular care.

The second voice, the foreign one, is the voice of an earth pony—another musician as evidenced by her cutie mark: a treble clef stamped on her light-brown coat. Her hair is black, long, and flows down to the ground past her neck. She watches the unicorn with a smile.

The unicorn takes a seat at the piano with a huff. She readies her hooves at the keys without pausing to breathe.

A hoof on her shoulder stops her. She turns her head with one eyebrow raised.

“Minuette, my dear, please slow down. I would hope you do not plan to be this rushed for your recital.”

The unicorn sighs loudly.

“Can’t you just call me Colgate like everypony else?”

The earth pony shakes her head with a soft smile.

“You are free to go by what you wish when around your friends, but this is an atmosphere of culture. You are a beautifully trained musician at practice, and I shall refer to you as such. Can you not see why it is so?”

Colgate scrunches up her mouth as though she’s holding back a protest. The way the earth pony speaks seems always slightly off, even if the meaning is clear.

“But Octavia—”:

“No buts. You are going to play for me, are you not?”

Colgate turns her head forward again. The notes on the page wiggle at her under the dim lighting. She squints at them, as though sizing them up, daring them to run away. But they stay.

She sighs again.

“Yes."

Octavia pats her shoulder and leans against the nearby wall. “Please, go ahead,” she says.

Colgate scans the score for a minute. Her hooves trace over the keys until they find their place. She holds them steady for a second, then lowers them, drawing out a long ringing note that she sustains with a press of her hind-hoof.

“You should read the directions as you play. It will help you remember them much better when you perform the piece properly.”

Colgate grumbles but doesn’t draw her eyes away from the sheet music.

“Sostenuto,” she says. She holds the low note firmly.

The air beside her shifts, and Octavia moves closer.

As Colgate holds the note for the duration notated in her reading, she feels a warmth at her side. Octavia’s body, though not particularly warmer than anything else in the room, seems to stand out amidst the stifling air of the sound-proof shelter. Even though her focus is on the bass note she’s holding, Colgate can hear the soft sound of Octavia’s breathing as though it’s right into her ear. The passing of air between foreign, articulate lips.

Colgate swallows and moves her right hoof upwards. The delicate plink of high keys joins the bass, then take over as it the pedal note fades away.

“First movement a piano?” Octavia asks. She lets her hoof rest on Colgate’s shoulder as she plays the tiny sections of not-quite melody in a leisurely fashion.

Colgate doesn’t shift her eyes from the keys as Octavia’s hoof lingers on her fur, then glides along the back of her neck to her other shoulder.

“Pianissimo,” Colgate corrects her. She plays a soft, slow back and forth between the chord she finds at the high end of the piano.

“Ah,” Octavia says. She leans in close and rests her chin on Colgate’s shoulder as she removes her hoof. Her mouth is inches away from Colgate’s ear.

“You play it very sweetly,” she says.

“Dolce,” Colgate responds. She swallows a noticeable lump in her throat. Her voice sounds slightly shaken.

“Mmhm,” Octavia says. She extends her tongue as she murmurs, and the tip of it touches Colgate’s ear, which makes her jump slightly. But she stays in her seat, and continues her tapping of high notes.

“This part is so light, it is almost not there at all,” Octavia says. She cranes her neck further sideways and her chin runs along Colgate’s foreleg until she reaches its end. Octavia replaces her chin with a hoof, and runs that along Colgate’s shoulder as well, then along her side until she reaches her hindleg. She moves her hoof back and forth several times, just barely touching, only centimeters away from pressing into Colgate’s fur properly.

“Leggierissimo,” Colgate says. “Very lightly.”

“Very lightly indeed,” Octavia says. She leans forward and whispers the word into Colgate’s ear, treating her to another soft touch of tongue.

Colgate keeps herself from jumping. She keeps her eyes focused on the score as she comes to the next section. Her hoof begins to move in earnest.

Octavia pauses and looks up as though she’s searching for something in the back of her head.

“This section... it is very back and forth,” she says.

“Scherzando,” Colgate says. She sticks her tongue out between her teeth as she concentrates on the more demanding interplay of notes in different ranges.

Octavia doesn’t say anything. She disappears from Colgate’s periphery, and her touch as well. For a moment, Colgate wonders if she can focus properly on her perfomance to get it over with—but she feels Octavia reappear, then sees her as her eyes let her reorient her focus. She jumps again and her right hoof smashes down clumsily on a series of wrong notes to match the chord on her left.

Octavia peeks out at Colgate from underneath the piano bench. She grins widely.

“Do not let me distract you. It is important to learn to play with distractions, after all.”

The head between Colgate's legs vanishes from her sight for a moment. She tries to bring her focus back to the piano. She doesn’t manage to find more than one note before she something, there, and has to keep herself from closing her eyes and abandoning her playing completely.

A kiss. A kiss on the inside of her leg, so gently against her fur, so close to her...

Colgate shakes her head and returns her attention to the score. Only two more movements to go and she’s done. She can work through the distraction.

But this section isn’t as passive as the last.

With no warning, Octavia’s attention goes from light to insistent. A low thump of a note rings out. After a second, Colgate joins it with a gasp. Octavia's mouth jumps from the side to the center, and Colgate has no time to brace herself as she feels a tongue, Octavia’s tongue, the same one that was on her ear, pressed deliberately into her most sensitive place.

Colgate can’t help it; she’s wet. She felt the first trace of it when Octavia’s breath was on her ear. With a tongue on her slit, there’s nothing she can do about it.

She tries to ignore it. Her hooves jump back and forth as best they can manage with Octavia’s face buried between her legs.

Every few seconds, Colgate has to stop. Her tempo falls away when Octavia licks, dragging her tongue slowly up the whole of Colgate’s eagerly dampened pussy. Octavia alternates between kisses and soft licks, and hard, firm presses with the flat of her tongue against Colgate’s lips, or even higher, against her–

“Ah!”

“Directions, my dear?” Octavia asks, removing her tongue for a moment. “This section is particular in its technique, is it not?”

Colgate nods, closing her eyes for a moment and sucking in a breath through her teeth.

“Forte piano,” she says. “Heavy, then soft...”

“Precisely. Take care with your dynamics.” With that, Octavia dives forward again, and her tongue once more finds its place on Colgate’s clit.

“Ahhh... there’s... a cadenza... shortly...” Colgate says, managing the unfamiliar vocabulary through breaths and between traces of notes. She can barely manage the back and forth of volume and tempo with the delicate and not-so-delicate prodding of Octavia’s tongue—she has no idea how she’ll manage anything more demanding.

Octavia doesn’t seem to be listening. She circles around Colgate’s button, tracing the edges of it with the tip of her tongue, letting Colgate buck her hips forward to ask for more despite her need for focus.

The notes appear suddenly on the page like a wave of black. Colgate squints her eyes, trying to slow their approach.

Octavia’s tongue doesn’t stop. Colgate has no choice but to continue.

The section that’s meant to be skillful comes out shaky. Colgate tries to steady her hooves on each series of notes, but every time she attempts a run from high to low or a quick flurry of keys, Octavia presses forward further, lapping from bottom to top, making soft slurping sounds as she drinks the evidence of Colgate’s arousal.

Colgate tries to find the end of the solo with enthusiasm, but she struggles not to slouch forward in her seat, not to let her body collapse onto the piano as Octavia pays attention to her increasingly excited snatch.

And then, just as suddenly as the notes stop, so does the tongue. The rest at the end of the bar lets Colgate still her hooves, and she feels the lack of warmth from Octavia’s breath as she pulls her head back as well.

Colgate gasps for breath, suddenly aware she’s forgotten to do so for the past minute.

Octavia’s head appears in the bottom of Colgate's vision, smiling, her mouth damp.

“Caesura, non è vero?”

Colgate nods and closes her eyes as she sucks in a mouthful of air.

“Yes,” she says.

Octavia smiles wider at her. “This section is important to give the performer a respite after their exhaustive display of expertise,” she says.

Colgate doesn’t bother to nod. She just breathes. She knows she has a few more measures, even with the abandoning of any consistent tempo.

She lets herself rest for a minute more before opening her eyes and struggling to sit upright again. Octavia’s smile is gone.

The final movement.

Colgate raises her hooves above the keys in preparation for the song’s last refrain.

“Sforzando,” she says, almost under her breath.

She feels a proximity between her legs.

As her hooves crash down, so too does Octavia, diving with sudden ferocity, planting her lips on Colgate’s clit and sucking it between her teeth.

Colgate can’t help but cry out as she approaches the mounting tension of the piece’s crescendo. Her voice becomes an accompaniment to the performance, finding a strange harmony with the notes as she attempts to keep even a fraction of her attention on the sheet music and directions therein.

“Appass...appassionata..,” she says with her voice in a half-moan. Octavia nuzzles her muzzle into Colgate’s now dripping pussy, and Colgate leans forward, keeping herself held upright only by virtue of her hooves on the keys. “Accelerando,” she gasps, and Octavia licks faster, flicking her tongue quicker and quicker over the sensitive trigger of Colgate’s nub.

Colgate tries to blot out the focus on one thing or another, but both of them are inside her head, a collection of notes she can bareley make out through the haze of pleasure coursing through her. It starts from between her legs and works its way up through her whole body. Octavia’s mouth is like a delicate, tender kiss on Colgate's lower-lips, and every time Colgate feels another press of tongue against her clit, she knows she's close. The volume of her playing increases as the volume of her moans do the same, no more directions audible in the constant sound Octavia coaxes from her mouth, singing accompaniment to the increasing fervor of her hooves, building and building and building until the peak of the refrain’s climax, and then—

The notes ring through the tiny practice space as Colgate’s voice stops. Her forelegs shake and her eyes fall shut. Her whole body rocks back and forth, keeping a tempo that she’s changed so many times until now. The triumphant echo of the sustained chord hangs in the air like a celebratory banner. Octavia’s tongue lays in place on Colgate’s slit, caressing it as the shudders of orgasms work their way upwards, lapping delicately at Colgate’s lips as they twitch in the remnants of their ecstasy.

Octavia pulls her head back.

Colgate sucks in a breath of air and her hooves find the next note. A soft conclusion, building down in volume and tempo.

“Diminuendo,” she manages with a voice like a tired kitten. She leans her head forward over the keys as she plays, drawing out the last bits of melody like she’s struggling to pull them from the instrument, until the final low bass rings out. Colgate leans back and exhales loudly.

Octavia appears beside her seconds after, still smiling.

“A wonderful performance. You have certainly come a long way since you started learning.”

Colgate keeps her eyes closed for a few seconds longer as she takes in a few more breaths. She opens them and stares up at Octavia with her head upside down, leaning backwards on nothing but air.

“Thanks,” she says. She sits up and closes the lid of the piano. Her horn glows and the sheet music lifts into the air and floats back into its place on the shelf. Colgate wipes a hoof across her forehead, and it comes away wet with sweat.

“Now,” Octavia says, placing a hoof on Colgate’s shoulder. “Would you like to come back

to the attico so that I may play for you this time?”

A flicker of blue light flashes through Colgate’s eyes. She turns and stands from the bench in the same motion. She nuzzles her head into Octavia’s cheek, and Octavia returns the gesture, nuzzling back and letting her raven black hair mix with the blue and white of Colgate’s mane.

“I’d like that,” she says.

“I am glad." Octavia opens the practice room door and flicks the light off with her other hoof. “I must tell you though,” she says, leading Colgate outside, “that this particular piece is a duet.”

Colgate grins at her.

“I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“No, I did not imagine you might.”

Chaos Theory (Arranged Version)

Click here to read this chapter of the story, entitled 'Chaos Theory'.

This chapter is designed to be arranged randomly each time. Feel free to share your arrangement in the comments if you feel it contains a particularly worthwhile happenstance of one scene next to another.