Smooth Strings
“Miss Octavia, whenever you’re ready?” The monotone voice called out across the mostly empty recital hall, addressing the singular mare poised with her cello on stage. Her ears flicked, but she otherwise showed no hint of discouragement or nervousness as she drew her bow across the strings of her instrument, her hands relaxed. The slightly chilled room was at ease when she began to play, multiple applicants having already passed by in giving their attempt at impressing the judge of the orchestra. With the gentle grace she’d made her second nature, Octavia started her piece, a little known composition that would let her display the range of skill she possessed with the sole instrument she’d never part from for anypony.
Octavia Philharmonica was in the middle of searching for a prime position for a player of her self-appointed caliber. Every tutor, every teacher, each had praised her skill with the highest of marks. Her family couldn’t be prouder, having been helping her since her youth. They watched as she grew into the mare she was now, and her achievements lined the walls of their home. Her hands continued to pull and move as the chords played out in her ears, each transition and note like a carefully built machine she’s calibrated to the finest perfection possible. She allowed a smile to grace her lips as she reached the end, a slow crescendo before finally ceasing. The black-maned mare brought her arm back down to her side, her violet eyes peering out to the judge who tapped his pen to his chin.
“You’re well worth the reputation that your tutors give you for, Miss Octavia. I’d be remiss to not have you in my grouping.” The judge, who was in fact the conductor for the orchestra she was trying for, scribbled down a few notes on his sheet. “Second chair. Be here at 3:30 on Thursday.” He finished scribbling and looked up. “Next!”
Octavia kept her reactions to a minimum as she stepped off stage calmly, her heels tapping on the stage floor while another musician took her place. The stallion had a cello like her, no doubt seeking a similar position. She let her mind wander when she found a seat and began packing away her cello. Her performance had been immaculate in her mind. She’d hit every note properly, held no pause too long nor too short. And she’d been accepted into the very orchestra she’d wanted to play in since she was a little girl!
Yet…second chair. It was not a rebuke by any means to be second chair in the full Royal Orchestra. But it was still a remark on her abilities. She’d come just short of reaching the top, right underneath whomever would be considered a superior to her skill at the instrument she’d done her best to make a living out of. Was it possible that her presentation had been off? Was there a miscalculation she neglected to resolve or correct before playing?
“First chair. Well done, mister Breve.” The conductor’s words rang in her ears, and Octavia immediately shot up. The first chair was already decided? How long had she been daydreaming? Abandoning her cello for the moment, she peered out from the side of the stage to see the same stallion of before smiling, giving a nod to the conductor’s approving smile. The twinge of anger did not breach her composure, yet her eyes narrowed as she took in his appearance.
Tall, taller than herself, yet thin. Graceful even, with lean arms and a torso that went well with the suit he’d chosen. His orange fur, a dulled, rustic coloring, was clean and seemed to shine under the spotlights of the stage much like his instrument did. His mane was a light white shade, short and barely even reaching his neck covered part of his forehead which he brushed aside in a futile gesture. She admitted reluctantly to herself that in another light, he’d be attractive to many a mare, herself included. But that was pushed aside by the reminder of him being her superior now in the orchestra, a thought that stung like a lit coal against her flank.
She drew herself from her thoughts as he passed by, giving her a small wave as he sought his own chair out to rest in. He sighed and settled into it, undoing the clasps on his case and moving to open it until he found Octavia standing before him. “Hello there.” He said politely, offering her a smile.
“Yes, hello. I’m sorry, but I understand you’re to be first chair?” she questioned. At his nod, she extended her hand to him. “Octavia Philharmonica, second chair.” She clarified in her introduction. He took her hand and kissed her knuckle, the mare pushing down any sensation of a blush that tried to creep up her cheeks. He was even cultured; the picture perfect musical stallion.
“Gentle Breve. I listened to your performance, it was marvelous. You have to be one of the best mares I’ve seen holding a cello. Not too shabby to look at either.” He said, the sly compliment accompanied by a charming grin. The effect of it though was lost on Octavia, the seed of resentment still planted in her mind.
“Yes, well. I was wondering, to better allow ourselves to harmonize and play together. Perhaps we could practice some of the pieces?” he blinked at her offer and nodded. It made sense to him. “Would you prefer to meet here, or perhaps another locale?”
He shook his head. “Coming here would be difficult, I wager, with all the preparations they’re doing. Why not come down to my house, I’d be delighted to have such a lovely guest in my home.” He offered.
Octavia nodded. “Certainly, I can do so. Where can I find you then, Mr. Breve?” she asked, and he quickly found a scrap piece of paper in his case to write his address on. Taking it and placing it in her own case, she smoothed her dress out before speaking again. “I must ask…how long have you been playing? To gain first chair is remarkable, at this level.”
“Why, since I was a teenager, I suppose. I happened upon it by chance one day, exploring around an old music shop. It’s led me to where I am today, you could say.” He answered. He watched as Octavia didn’t respond at first, simply staring over at him before speaking finally.
“Of course. Please, excuse me. I must be going.” She gave a short bow before going on her way, her black mane and tail shimmering in the light. For Breve’s behalf, he found her a beauty to see walk away. He’d have been troubled had he witnessed the grim stare she fixed on any passerby ponies who tried to meet her eyes. She maintained that harsh look until reaching her flat, the open room and silence a break for her to finally release herself from the composed calm she’d been bound by.
“Of all the injustices…” she muttered as she kicked off her heels and placed her case in her bedroom, moving to the sofa where she laid herself out on her back, a hand resting on her head as she thought back to the audition. “Losing the first chair, to a younger stallion of less experience and years? What would mother say of me?” she questioned aloud before sitting up. Her formal dress was no longer needed, and she quickly discarded it, putting on a simple blouse and skirt that allowed her to relax better in the privacy of her home. Running delicate fingers through her mane, the bitterness still stung at her mind.
“I must improve. To be the best, you must always aim higher.” She recited from memory before deciding to seek out a meal to make. It was as she cooked that a thought struck her she had not thought to speak of: she’d no idea what song Breve had played to the maestro to earn first chair. What composition had he performed? Was it an unheard of piece? Original work of a genius yet unfound? She paused these musings and put them on hold for now. Her questions could wait until they practiced. Perhaps there was yet some secret this stallion knew that she’d overlooked? It would have to wait until tomorrow, the day they arranged to meet.
***
The next day, Octavia chose to try and approach the upcoming task with the most optimism she could muster. It would not do to not give her all, and she’d not let herself fail in her goal to be the best, by any measure. She’d taught herself every composition she’d knew by this point in her life, every measure, intonation, pace. But here she was, aiming now to try and learn more, some secret to gleam from the hands of another musician. After her shower and breakfast, she’d tasked herself with her appearance. After all, her mother’s voice chimed in her ears, a mare’s beauty isn’t just in her music.
Looking in the mirror, she was confident in her own looks. Her black mane, brushed and straightened, fell down to the small of her back in one long cascade of shadow, a trait of her looks that she’d been complimented on by many a suitor. A light application of eye-shadow and blush highlighted her face, her grey coat light and trimmed short, yet kept soft thanks to her regiment of lotions and washes. Her figure was another proud factor in her eyes; the crude term “voluptuous” coming to mind. In her college years, she’d been deemed a treasure of Canterlot University’s campus, with many a stallion looking to see if they’d get away with more than staring at her derriere. Those years brought a humored smile at the remembered attempts at flirting many had tried with her. But most had been rebuked for looking only to say they’d been with the Grey Queen, some called her. The front was no less displeasing, and Octavia realized she’d easily be mistaken for a model with her physique. Yet, none had chosen to dispel the hole in her heart, reserved for that sole pony that saw more than a pretty face.
Seeking to impress her partner to be – she’d chosen to call him partner rather than superior now, for sake of sparing him any animosity she could avoid – she delegated herself to a relaxed outfit, a satin shirt of light blue with a white skirt that rested on her hips and extended to her knees, highlighting her legs in the outline. She smiled and gave herself an approving nod, tail swishing behind her as she stepped out the door and made her way to the written address. She would normally have her case wheeled or carried by another pony, but chose to bring it herself. Let it not be said that Octavia cannot pull her own weight, and literally at that.
The housing complex was impressive, to say the least. Positioned in a decent neighborhood, there was little street traffic in that breezy morning. Her mane waving behind her head, Octavia finally arrived at the front door of her fellow musician. A couple polite knocks later and she was rewarded with the door opening, revealing Breve. He was dressed likewise casually, a button up, white long sleeved shirt and black khakis donned, and surprisingly, a pair of glasses perched on his head. “Ah! You’re early!” he exclaimed, rubbing at his head sheepishly. “I just finished making sure my home would suit the presence of another musical talent.
”
She smiled at his courtesy and compliment, easing the tension that had been resting in the back of her mind. “Not to worry. I’m not one to judge for one’s own upkeep. I did live through college after all.” She replied as he held the door open, granting her entry. The inside wasn’t luxurious, but cozy for what she assumed was a single individual. The wood-floored hallway gave way towards a receiving living room, the floor giving way to a cushioned carpet that eased Octavia’s steps. The walls were a simple white paint, though he had a few decorative artworks on the walls to give it flair. Nothing outlandish and she could even recognize a few works as well. Seating herself on the red sofa, she leaned back and felt relaxed.
“You’ve done very well for yourself.” She remarked, drawing another smile – she mentally slapped her wrist for wanting to call the smile charming – from the stallion. “I can imagine quite the comfortable living space here.”
Breve shrugged his shoulders, his hands at his hips. “It’s nothing too special, but it’s certainly a home.” He clapped his hands together and grinned down at her. “So, you mentioned wanting to practice? What particular piece were you thinking to start with?”
Octavia nodded, settling into her professional state of mind. She intended to make an impression, and it wouldn’t do to disappoint. “How’s about Bell’s Cello Suite No. 1?” she suggested.
“Ah! You’re a mare after my own tastes, Miss Octavia!” he replied, moving to the corner where his own cello case was positioned. “Is it alright if I just call you Octavia? No offense, but a beauty like you should at least be a Mrs. by now.” He asked. Being turned away, Breve missed the healthy flush that came to Octavia’s cheeks. She wasn’t certain if he understood the intent of his words, but the compliment was plenty obvious.
“O-Octavia is fine.” She clipped out, swallowing to regain her calm as he turned to her. Using a seat nearby for himself, he placed himself in position in front of her, with Octavia having retrieved her own instrument as well. “Shall I lead or would you like to?”
“By all means. Ladies first, as the saying goes.” He nodded at her, and she permitted herself a polite grin.
‘Let’s see if you’re worth the praise you’ve been given, Mr. Breve.’ Octavia thought to herself before closing her eyes, settling in as she began to play. He soon joined in, the pair approaching the task of turning the singularly played piece into a duet for the two. It took slow and steady work, but a harmony was found between the two midway in to the song, causing Octavia’s eyes to open as she took in his playing form. She had not been observant enough when he had auditioned, but now she could see it firsthand.
He did not disappoint.
His hands kept to their places and moved fluidly, no beat skipped or note missed. His timing was impeccable, the sounds being made to match her rhythmic own. Once or twice, she found herself pushing to insure that she did not let up, nor fall behind. It was halfway exhilarating, halfway infuriating. ‘How…how is he…’ she kept her words to herself when the piece finished, putting on a forced smile as he nodded.
“Wonderful. I knew I was right when I predicted you’d be skilled, Octavia.” He praised, and she felt a tinge of joy, but it was tainted by her bitter jealousy of his skill. She kept her smile fixed before he spoke again. “Let’s try another. Let’s see if you catch on with this one.” He drew his bow up and started another piece, one that was lighter but quicker. She thought to object, but the grey mare smirked instead at the challenge.
It went on like this for several hours, to the extent that Octavia could feel her hand going sore from the intensive efforts of playing. The one they were currently on, a piece that Octavia vaguely recalled in her stressed and weary mind, was flowing like the others when it came to an abrupt halt when Octavia stopped moving her bow. Breve continued the note he was on until he heard the lack of his partner’s cello and looked up to see the mare with her head bowed.
“Octavia? What’s wrong?” he asked, lowering his own bow and setting it and his cello aside. It was a good thing he did, or her sudden outburst would have caused him to drop one or both.
“I don’t understand!” she exclaimed, all trace of calm lost in a burst of frustration. Octavia looked up to him, her eyes brimming with tears of emotion that dripped from her heart as much as her cheeks. “How…how could I have even imagined being as good as you?” she turned away, heart wrenching in her chest. She was thankful her black mane hid part of her face, knowing the makeup she’d applied was likely running now.
Breve watched, uncertain of how to act. “Octavia, you played beautifully! What do you mean, not as good?” he questioned.
Octavia didn’t answer, the emotional fortitude she could normally wield now lost in this moment of harsh and unyielding sorrow. She knew she had no chance now. Every song she put him through, she was out-played. Every note, one step higher than her. Every chord, another mark against her as failure. “Don’t patronize me!” she said, her hands clenched to her skirt. “I’ll never get to be first chair…but I don’t understand! I memorized every note, every line, every piece I could! Why…what am I doing wrong?”
A tense silence filled the room as the clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, Octavia’s sniffs the only other sound. When she heard his chair creak, she cringed, expecting a harsh rebuke and rejection. When his hand came to sit on her shoulder, the mare whimpered, but soon found her head resting against the soft cloth of his covered chest. She blinked in confusion, and looked up at the stallion. His eyes held no ill intent, and she laid there in muddled thoughts before he spoke.
“You technically did nothing wrong. But it’s not what you’re playing that’s wrong. It’s what’s with you that needs the adjustment.” Breve said quietly.
“I…” Octavia sniffed, dabbing at her muzzle to wipe away the loose tears. A provided tissue aided her, and she thanked him before continuing with a sniffle. “I don’t understand?”
Gentle Breve nodded and pulled her aside to the sofa, instruments abandoned. When he sat, she chose to seat herself beside him, but didn’t lean on him. Her hands lay folded in her lap as she looked to the stallion when he resumed speaking.
“Octavia…why do you play?” Breve asked. The simple question made the mare blink.
“I play to be the best, of course. To excel at playing music.” Her reply was automatic, the years of tutoring coming to mind. “I’ve trained in it for so long that it’s my entire life. I don’t know what else I could do!”
The white-maned stallion nodded and brought a hand to his chin in thought. “So you don’t do anything else? You don’t cook? You don’t clean?” his questions made her head shake slowly.
“I do those, anypony sensible does. What does that prove?” His grin only served to confuse her further. “Don’t smile at me, explain yourself! What does doing household tasks have anything to do with music?” she demanded.
“Well, for a start, it proves you know how to do something other than play the cello.” He answered. At her unimpressed stare, he raised his hands defensively and continued. “The point being, Octavia, that life is about a lot more than being good at music. I don’t do this because I want to be the best. I do it because I relish the opportunity to play for anypony who’d listen.” His explanation made her eyes widen in curiosity, but he spoke before she could.
“I’m going to wager you had some tutoring when you were younger?” Octavia nodded, leaning back into the sofa. She toyed with a loose strand of her black mane, conscientious with the spotlight on her. “Your parents paid for it, wanting to see their prodigy grow up to be the best she could be. But what did little Octavia want?”
The mare blinked and looked about the room in thought. “I…well, I want to play! I mean…isn’t that right?” she asked.
“You enjoy making music, right?” She nodded. “Playing it, performing it?” Another nod. “Then why isn’t that enough?”
The question made her pause as her mind reeled to the past, when a similar question had been posed to her father. It was the Octavia of the past, tiny in frame and rubbing her sore wrist as she set down her cello. She wondered why she had to practice so much, what was so important about the hunk of wood larger than her whole body that she had to learn it. What followed that question was a harsh slap and a demanding voice asking what made her think she could do as she pleased. Octavia Philharmonica wasn’t going to be anybody by being a slacker, he declared, oh no! She was going to get to the top by giving her everything.
“I…I don’t know.” She whispered, and moved to lean her head on the stallion’s shoulder. “So much of my life has been about music and perfect presentation, just…it was like nothing else mattered.” Octavia whispered. “Not what I wanted, at least.”
Breve’s hand rested on her shoulder as he pulled her into a one-armed hug. “Does Octavia still want to play?” he questioned, and at her nod added, “Does she want to play to be the best? Or because it’s what she really wants?”
Eyes narrowed, the mare thought long and hard before finally getting up. She reached for her cello, holding it gingerly, before pulling it flush to her body. Breve looked on, his eyes watchful as the beauty in front of him drew her bow, for once without task or song in mind. She only drew it across the strings, and began to play a nameless tune. She kept her eyes closed, letting her ears and hands guide her as emotion flowed to her fingertips. The stallion in the room sat up, eyes widening as the sounds uttered from the cello were unlike the masterpieces she’d been playing before. It surpassed them, and when she drew to a close, he almost asked her to not stop.
“How…how was that?” Octavia asked, looking up to the stallion.
“That…was absolutely amazing.” His praise drew a tearful smile to her face, and the tension left them as he picked up his own cello. They continued on to play, though nopony could place the precise name of the music coming from the apartment. But it could not be contested by anypony that it was anything short of wonderful. The pair carried on well into the night, Octavia’s form seeming lighter with the weight of her worries before lifted. With Breve, she had nothing to worry for, no one to try and impress. She was free to be just Octavia, and she embraced it. She could smile and laugh, and there was no wrong in playing nonsensical sounds, or even just watching Breve play.
When the clock’s chime rang eleven, Octavia gasped in surprise. “I can’t believe we’ve been at this for so long!” she exclaimed, moving to immediately pack up her cello. “I’m terribly sorry, I took up your entire evening!” she apologized, but the stallion held up a hand to stem her apologies.
“I’m pretty sure tonight was one of the best and most enjoyable nights this apartment’s seen. I’d be delighted for you to stop by again, any time you wanted.” The offer made Octavia pause before looking to him. He was smiling that charming grin at her again, but she didn’t push it off as a trick or ruse. Breve mistook her stare for offense and cleared his throat. “I meant, of course, assuming you enjoyed tonight.”
Octavia shook her daze away and spoke. “No, no, I did! I’m sorry, it’s just been awhile since anypony’s wished for my presence with them.” She explained, fighting a blush down at the unintended innuendo that could be implied. “I would be happy to visit and play with you again, Breve.”
He stood and walked her to the door, the evening air greeting them as the apartment’s light flooded out to the walk. Streetlights dotted the road as few cars drove by, the rush of daylight long gone. “Will you be alright? I could walk you home if you want?” He asked. He couldn’t tell if his question was from purely manners or if he subconsciously wanted more time with her. ‘A little of both,’ he decided when she replied.
“I’ll be alright. I’m not far from here, and I’m well-armed.” She tapped her cello case, drawing a small chuckle from Breve. “I’ll see you at the practice at the hall then!” Octavia declared, walking down the street. Breve leaned against his doorway, watching her walk on and particularly how her tail moved across her swaying rear. He stopped himself and blushed, shaking his head with a grin. The night would sleep peacefully from there, two musicians both in their beds with thoughts of the other bringing a hopeful light to their spirits.
***
Ever since that first practice, Octavia had found herself a new fire to guide her spirit, the self she’d let go of so long ago. It came to life within her when she was with Breve, and everyone around her could sense the change in her demeanor. The maestro had found out from Breve that the pair played together for practice, and fully encouraged it, pushing other likewise pairs together. It brought a sense of camaraderie amidst the sections, though no one could quite find the match for Lyra. She insisted that she didn’t need anypony to practice with, being the sole harpist. Yet Octavia took note that every time Heartstrings left, there was a two-toned mare waiting for her, bearing a treat to snack on.
The practices with Breve became a normal occurrence for Octavia, the grey mare becoming more and more relaxed with his presence. Sometimes, they did nothing but play, rarely speaking except with glances or small motions. Other times, they let their instruments and hands rest, partaking in other activities. Breve confessed that he was an avid chef, a trait he’d picked up from his childhood that aided him now with the company he entertained. More than once, Octavia was treated to a healthy portion of extras to take home with her. Likewise, Octavia revealed her fondness for reading, admitting to hosting a plethora of books at her home that had each seen their share of attention. She brought one on every odd occasion, and let him borrow them if the title caught his fancy enough. Octavia did her best to hide her smirk when one of the ones he’d choose would be of the saucier persuasion, though imagining him in the position of the nameless and faceless stallion the book would supply her with caused her cheeks to warm.
It was on an outing with one of the violists, Risen Key that a question was posed that nailed something on the head for her. “You want me to what?” she asked, looking for a repeat.
“I said, haven’t you asked that Gentle Breve out yet?” the cream-coated mare leaned over across the coffee table, nudging the small cup of herbal tea she’d ordered on that bright day. “You two are so hard to separate; it’s like pulling teeth from a muzzle!” Her metaphor made Octavia wince lightly, but she waved a hand dismissively.
“Oh, come on. Gentle Breve and I are just good partners together. He’s been a wonderful friend to me.” She stated, but Risen kept on.
“If he’s so wonderful, then what’s stopping you from asking?” She toyed with a loose strand of her green mane before continuing. “If he said no to you, I’m pretty sure he’d have to be one of the dumbest stallions around. You’re always so bright around him anyway! The way you two have your little jokes, and don’t think I haven’t seen those smiles you give him when he starts to play!”
Octavia felt her face warm, and she reached for her mug to sip a large portion of her beverage down in thought. Would it really be that bad of an idea to ask him? Sure, she didn’t want to wreck the dynamic they had now. And he’d become such a big part of her life! Her eyes widened when she recalled a memory of a movie night the pair had partaken in. It was one of the popular flicks that Octavia had continuously heard mentioned on the radio, so she thought to give it a go with Breve. The pair had obtained a copy and settled in at his house to watch it, since he had the larger television. Over the course of the movie, Octavia had found less interest in it and more in the shadows of her eyelids, falling asleep at the halfway point.
When she came to, it was morning again, and she lurched up from the bed. Glancing about, she quickly deduced this was not her own bedroom, as the furniture was entirely different and contained various fixtures and trinkets she vaguely recognized. The door opened, and she tugged the sheets to her neck, though a moment’s observation made her feel silly as she realized she had on all the clothes she’d worn the night before. Breve entered, and smiled seeing her awake.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, fair beauty. Enjoy your visit to dreamland?” he smiled at her.
“Breve, I’m so sorry! I must’ve fallen asleep last night during the film!” she exclaimed. “Oh, I hope you’re not angry. I promise, it wasn’t because of you!”
He only laughed and waved his hand to put her at ease. “It’s alright, I went out like a light soon after. Didn’t quite live up to the hype, that one. I figured to let you have the bed while I slept on the sofa. I’ve fixed some breakfast, if you’d like?” His offer awoke her stomach, and she’d blushed beet red in embarrassment when her belly growled its agreement to the idea. The memory of it all was pleasant, but it showed more of his character to her. He could’ve taken advantage, copped a feel or snuck a peek, yet didn’t. He was the perfect gentlecolt to her, even sacrificing his comfort for her own.
Octavia sat her glass down and bit her lower lip. “Do…do you think I should?” she asked Key, who beamed.
“Duh! Oh! Wait till after the performance we have tomorrow night. You could ask him right with the upswing of the conclusion, and he’ll sweep you off your feet and…” Risen trailed off as Octavia laughed at her friend’s imagination, yet part of her could feel a sense of longing for one of those romantic conclusions she read in her books to happen with Breve.
She put no more thought to it until the night of the concert. Having found a new dress for the event, she kept it folded up and brought it with her to Breve’s apartment, the pair of them having agreed to go together as each other’s support. Her knocks at the door were scarcely done when the door pulled open. The sight in front of her made Octavia’s eyes widen, and her throat to go dry. Breve stood there before her, his shirt undone and mane askew, wet with water fresh from the shower. “Oh good, you’re here! Come on in, I was just finishing up.” He stood aside, and Octavia had to tear her eyes away from the pecs and flat stomach she’d been admiring.
‘It’s a surprise none of the other mares have had a go at him!’ she thought to herself, seating herself at his sofa. His physique was nothing like an athlete or physically built stallion, but he was certainly fit. Perhaps he ran in his spare time, working up a sweat? She buried the rest of those thoughts when he followed in with her, buttoning up his shirt much to her inner self’s disappointment. Yet with the new knowledge of his form beneath the clothing, she could make out how well it suited him, lining his musculature flatteringly.
Said stallion had moved back to his room, his hands fiddling with his collar as he looked himself over in the mirror. But the image playing before his eyes was not himself, but instead the beauty sitting in his home. Octavia may not have realized it, but over the course of time they’d spend together, he found it more and more difficult to not voice his attraction to her. Everything about her spoke of a grace and spirit that mystified him, contained within what he’d consider a gem in the world. Octavia had become so much a part of his life of late, when she wasn’t in there with him, it felt much emptier. The quiet sometimes got to him, and he’d replay one of their songs they’d practice, just to try and emulate her presence.
And now here she was, her radiance enhanced by the way her dress clung to her features. His hands were twitching at the thought of how soft her mane must feel, to caress the fur on her cheeks as he leaned in and…he quickly shook his head, trying to push down the warmth that was rising in his face. “Keep it together…don’t screw this up.” He told himself as he finished adjusting himself and came back to the living room. He took the time to admire her dress, a formal yet elegant piece that was held up by two straps over her shoulders. The red fabric seemed to shimmer when she stood up, and it took a grand effort to not stare at how her curves filled out in the dress’ confines.
“Come now…surely you didn’t forget?” she asked suddenly, drawing him out of his mind and back to reality. When she stepped closer, he paused, his heart skipping a beat before feeling her hands fix something on his collar. His bow tie had been left askew, but with practiced ease, Octavia had straightened it properly. He smiled gratefully down at her, and she gave him one in kind, staying close like that for a second longer than needed before stepping away. “Shall we go?” her extended arm was soon taken by Breve’s own, his other hand coming to rest on said arm as she waved down a taxi to come for them.
Inside the cab, Octavia found that he continued to hold her arm even while they sat, causing her cheeks to warm lightly. If he noticed, he didn’t speak of it. Instead, she took it as a sign that maybe he could see her being like that more often, and let herself lean over to rest her head on his shoulder. “It’s a big night tonight. They’re expecting even one of the Royals to show up.” The black-maned mare chimed from her position.
Breve had blinked when he’d felt the pressure of her head on his shoulder, but felt no urge to make her leave. It was comfortable to him. “Not to worry. Even if it’d be for only friends, I’m sure you’ll play wonderfully. You are a true beauty behind the cello, Octavia.” He remarked.
“Don’t go selling yourself short, mister. After all, somepony in this cab is first chair, and it certainly isn’t me.” She teased him quietly. Fiddling with her purse strap for a moment, she looked up at him. “Breve?”
He looked down and found his sight wholly occupied by her violet pools. “Y-yes?” he stammered out before regaining his composure.
“I…I wanted to say thank you. For helping me, and being there for me. You’ve been…a wonderful friend. You helped me find myself again.” She said softly, blinking as she smiled.
The stallion grinned in kind. “Hey, you’ve been just as grand. I think I can easily say that you’ve brought me more life than I’d expected to have in these past few weeks. I think also it’s safe to say I’d like for it to continue too.”
Her eyes widened and she swallowed. Was he saying what she thought he meant? Could he be interested in her? Before she could pursue it, the cab came to a stop, causing Octavia to almost frown that their musical obligation stopped her from hearing something that the mere thought of was making her heart race. He opened the door and held it open for her, letting her exit and follow him inside to the orchestra hall. Throngs of fellow ponies stood in line, awaiting entry. The sheer number made Octavia stare in surprise, but she masked it once they entered through the side entrance meant for performers.
Inside, the various sections were touching up their instruments for the performance. A few of the brass had even taken to re-oiling their parts, making sure that no single piece or function was faulty. Taking it all in, the pair felt the buzz of excitement lying underneath their efforts, and they gave each other a glance before smiling. “Let’s go and find our instruments, shall we?” Breve suggested, and Octavia followed.
Coming up to the lined up cello cases, Octavia quickly found hers and set about unpacking it, checking the strings and giving it a once over to insure nothing was out of place. When she didn’t hear Breve do the same, she looked up and saw him staring at the line of cases. “Breve? What’s wrong?” she asked, setting down her cloth rag used to polish the wood.
“My case isn’t here. I’ve checked each of these. My cello is gone.” He said in a hushed whisper. Octavia started and got up immediately, setting aside her instrument. “We need to find the maestro.” He stated, and she followed after him.
Quickly locating the aged stallion and relating the details, he called over the staff and demanded an explanation. The manager did a quick count as each shook their heads. “One of them’s not here. We had a temporary hire pop up when we were short on staff. He didn’t call ahead to say he would be missing tonight.” The red-maned stallion explained. Octavia gasped at this.
“He stole it? But why?” her question was met with a downturned glare as the maestro answered.
“Sometimes, when a big event is announced with royalty attending, scalpers and thieves get the idea to nab anything they figure could be valuable. And in those times, one of the best and most valued items is the very instrument used to entertain the gathered watchers.” The maestro ran a hand through his greyed mane and sighed. “We are without a first chair now. We’ve no backups, and by the time we’d have one arranged, we’d have delayed the performance. It will reflect on us poorly in the eyes of the nobility, let alone Her Majesty.”
“We’re not without a first chair.” Breve protested, drawing everypony’s attention. The orange-coated stallion was smiling, even with the news of his missing instrument. “Maestro, one way or another, my cello will return to me. After all, it wasn’t a rare model. But what matters more is that we give the best performance we can. If you’re looking for a first chair, she’s standing right next to me.” Octavia blinked before gasping lightly.
“You can’t mean!” she whispered as the Maestro raised an eyebrow.
“Are you sure? You realize that I chose you over her for a reason for that seat?” He reminded them both. Octavia frowned and looked away, but Breve’s hand on her arm guided her attention back up to him.
“With all due respect, sir. She and I have been practicing together since you first assigned us, and she has improved dramatically. You told me so yourself two weeks ago, her capriccio was the best you’d heard in practice.” He replied. His defense of her picked the black maned mare’s spirits up, and she looked to the Maestro for confirmation. The aged man blinked and muttered quietly before looking up at Octavia.
“Miss Octavia? Do you feel up to the task?” he asked. His response was a determined nod and smile from her, and he smiled as well. “Well then. Get the rest of your group together, inform them of the changes. Breve, we’ll keep you here to make sure nothing else comes out of order.” He clapped his hands and the group split.
From there, Octavia’s mind was a rushed blur as they went to work. Informing the group was no trouble, as they had been prepared before this had anything happened. Though shocked to hear Breve’s instrument was stolen under their noses, none of them raised issue with following Octavia’s lead, much to her relief. The music sheet remained the same for her, which was also no issue at all to begin with. The only worry was being the first to play, and with such an immense crowd before them, it grated on her nerves.
“Hey.” Breve snapped Octavia out of her thoughts and she looked up from her cello to him. He was smiling at her, and she gave one in kind. “How are you feeling?”
She set her handkerchief aside and let her hands rest in her lap. Posed like that, Breve realized that her beauty really did shine on stage, under the lights. The way it played off of her black mane, the contrast between her coat and the sheen of her dress. Even her eyes were captivating to him, and he realized a second later he was staring and she back at him.
“I’m doing ok, I think. It’s what I’ve always wanted, truth be told. I just…” she trailed off and he tilted his head to listen as she spoke softly. “…I wanted you beside me.”
He smiled at this, his cheeks warming much like hers did. “Who said I won’t be?” he kneeled down beside her, his head on level with hers as she blinked owlishly at him.
“But you can’t be on stage without an instrument?” she asked, confused. Her response made him snicker quietly.
“When you’re up there, and you think you’re gonna freeze up or something?” he tapped her head, and she blinked. “Close your eyes. Think back to when we played together. When it’s just you and me.” His words made an unbidden smile cross her lips, and she nodded. He gave one in kind and stood as the announcer finished the preliminary instructions for the performance, and began to list off the various sponsors and guests.
As he walked off, she watched him go, and kept that smile on her face. Her heart was pounding, now in pure excitement. The Maestro had stood and taken his place at the front when she refocused herself on the musical performance, and stood at the ready, bow and cello in hand. The entire stage and hall fell quiet, and she took a momentary glance to look out at the waiting populace. Hundreds sat in the linings, nobility of all kinds of wealth and professions. Further back, it gave way to ponies of lesser stature, until the very backs, which were common seats. A cursory look to the sides and up showed the special reserve seating, and she could scarcely make out a tell-tale curtain of a wavy blue mane, twinkling and acting of its own accord.
Octavia closed her eyes and remembered Breve’s advice. Her mind drifted back and away, pushing the stress and nervousness to the edges of her mental sight and focused instead on the one figure that’d been a solid rock for her since they’d met. The way he’d smile when she’d complete a song he asked her to try, the way he was always gentle with her. The bow in her hand came to life and she made the first stroke across her strings, the music coming to life by her will.
***
Music has a curious way of working wonders on the intelligent mind. It can conjure emotions, memories, all of which follow the same chords that the music plays out upon. It was once said that a mere flute player had persuaded the master of Tartarus to permit his wife to walk free, so beautiful was his music. If one peered into the hall that night, they’d be treated to the sight of hundreds of similar souls all being beckoned by the call of one instrument, guided by Octavia’s fair hands dancing and moving across her cello. Breve’s advice had sparked a connection from her instrument to herself, and she clung to that connection, pumping as much of herself into the music as she could.
When the final chord rose and fell, and her bow came to rest at her side, all was quiet as no one dared even breathe. The first clap came not from in front, but from the side. Octavia turned her head and her eyes widened, seeing Breve clapping his hands together, his teeth showing in his wide smile. It set off a chain of applause, growing in volume and reaching a level that made Octavia’s cello seem to shake from the vibrations and echoes, calls for an encore reaching her ears. The Maestro gave a deep bow and rose, extending a hand to the mare and her fellow members, each giving a bow or curtsy in return.
The cheers carried on until the lights rose again and the mass began to file out, all abuzz with post-performance glee as Octavia sat herself down. Immediately, she was set upon by her fellow musicians, each asking just how she managed to construct a piece so well, or what she did to her instrument to play so well. She laughed and tried to respond, but things became a blur as they were ushered off stage to the green room. Breve was waiting there for her, and she giggled before leaping into him, the stallion bracing himself as he caught her.
“Did you see? Did you see?” she asked repeatedly, laughing into his chest.
Breve could only nod, his cheeks warming as he felt her press into his form. It would take an idiot to not notice how two specific somethings were squishing against his chest so easily. “You were terrific, Octavia. I’m quite sure that you’d have knocked them off their feet if they’d been standing up.” She giggled and looked up at him, her violet orbs vibrant with life.
“If anything, with that kind of playing, I’m probably out a job and-“ any trace of thought was cut off when her lips met his cheek, and he paused, going a rosy tint as she leaned back down on her heels.
“I did it because of you, Breve. I couldn’t have without you.” She remarked, her own cheeks flushing as she realized what she did. Yet in her excitement, not one part of her could reason or remark it as being bad, since she had internally desired to do it for some time. Breve was still recognizing that the soft pressure that had been on his cheek was the feeling of her lips when the Maestro entered, his eyes alight.
“Octavia! My dear, you were magnificent!” He approached the pair and wiped at his brow. His eyes were alight with glee as he clasped Octavia’s hands. “All of the nobility were at their feet in cheers! I even heard word that Princess Luna herself was pleased, and would be returning to hear more at our next performance!” he released her and moved on to the rest of the collected members of the orchestra, the air flowing with joy.
Octavia couldn’t help but giggle at the happiness they all exhibited. It was only after a short time spent congratulating and cheering on others that the adrenaline of the show left her, and she gave a small yawn. “None of that, Octy!” A green furred arm hooked around her middle and the grey mare felt herself tugged as Lyra spoke. “We gotta celebrate our success!”
The cellist blinked and smiled nervously. Lyra was also known for having several wild parties where more often than not, you’d wind up in bed with one or more ponies clinging to you and a headache you’d like to forget. “I think I’ll have to pass, Lyra. As much fun as it would be, I’m quite done for the night.” She looked around and saw Breve standing by her case, chatting with the maestro. His appearance put an idea of who she’d rather be with if there was to be any celebration. “I’ll be heading home with Breve.”
“Alright, suit yourself! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” she exclaimed, walking off and cheering as she was hugged by two other friends of hers, a stallion and mare. Octavia made her way to Breve and nodded at him, as he spotted her. He nodded in kind before dismissing himself from the Maestro. “All ready to go?”
“Of course, if you are.” He replied automatically. “If you’d like, you can come back to my place for a little peaceful reception?”
She hooked one arm around his while her other came to rest on his chest, her hand patting lightly. “I think I’d like that very much, Gentle Breve.” She stated warmly. He wasn’t sure what, but the white-maned stallion found that her answer made his own skin tingle. He hefted her cello onto his back and the pair made for his apartment, not speaking to savor the peace of each other’s company.
Arriving at his address, the calm evening air was a blissful touch on Octavia’s face and skin as she left the cab, following Breve inside where she kicked her heels off at the door. “Oh, thank the stars. I needed to get those off!” she exclaimed as her feet made their silent approval known.
“I can’t begin to fathom the intelligence of you girls and your heels. Why not something more comfortable?” Breve teased from the kitchen, reaching into the fridge to locate something for them both to enjoy.
“Oh, hush. You know full well we mares look our best when we wear something stylish. Comfort is sometimes sacrificed for it.” Octavia replied. The cool tile floor was a bane for her sore feet, and she shivered in a mixture of pleasure and relief. Hearing a clinking of glasses, she looked up and saw Breve placing two wine glasses onto the kitchen table, a bottle next to them.
“Please, Octavia. You don’t need heels to look grand. You do that just when you smile.” Breve complimented, making the mare’s heart flutter in her chest. He looked up from the bottle as he uncorked it. “I thought perhaps some calm and good company would let you end the night well?”
Octavia’s smile grew and she stepped forward, plucking up one of the glasses. “With you, Breve? I could be anywhere, anytime, doing anything.” She stated confidently. He poured them both a fair portion, and they clinked their glasses together before retiring to the living room. From there, they drank slowly and chatted endlessly, curled up on the sofa. Breve had blushed when Octavia had chosen to lean up against him, her legs curled up to her as her head rested on his shoulder. He’d gone and removed his formal dress shirt, the loose shirt beneath the only layer separating her from his bare skin.
“What will you do now, Octavia? The maestro looked pretty happy with how well you did tonight.” Breve said as he finished his second glass. Octavia had been on her third, a small tint of red touching her cheeks from the easing effect the wine was having on her. She’d let down her mane as well, the small bindings she’d had in place to keep it still now done away, a curtain of black laying over her shoulder and touching her midriff. Just the sight of her like this, smiling and relaxed with him, made his pulse pick up.
“Any maestro would be happy with a good performance for royalty.” She replied, giggling to herself. “But for me? I’ll continue to play. I’ve never felt so alive than how I did tonight.” She looked up to him. “And you?”
“Well…find another cello, for sure.” He joked lamely, drawing a sympathetic smile from her. “Don’t worry. I know a few people who can help. Other than that, well…we’re both a part of the orchestra together. So I guess you’ll have to put up with me for awhile still, huh?” His statement made her blink and she set her wine glass down as nervousness played across her features. “Octavia?” he asked curiously at her change of mood.
“I…I want to keep playing with you. Even with how great it was tonight…it’s not the same without you.” She remarked as she looked back up at him. It was in that instant that Breve realized just how close up to him she was. Her lips looked full and inviting as her tongue ran across her lower lip for just a moment, wetting it. The fragrance of her perfume was in his senses, a scent that made his first instinctual response to be to nuzzle into her mane and get more of it. Her hand scooted up and rested just under his neck, pressed against his fur. “Breve…”
The stallion leaned closer, his eyes closing slowly as he gave in to the inner desire that had been lurking within him ever since that first practice. Their lips met in a gentle embrace that caused Octavia’s eyes to shoot open. He was kissing her! The way his lips rubbed against her own made the lust sitting in her heart soar, and she pushed back, her eyes closing again as she clung to his form. Passion met love in that exchange, Breve’s hands coming to wrap around her waist as she melted into his embrace.
She finally parted for air, sporting a healthy blush now much like the stallion before her. “How long have you wanted to do that?” He asked quietly, his gaze now brimming with affection as he looked down at her. The hands at her back rubbed her through her dress, caressing her gently as he waited for her response.
“Ever since I realized I’ve fallen for you.” She whispered back, her half-lidded eyes peering into his as she rested against him. Her hand had been joined by its opposite, resting on his chest. The confession inspired her to press on, and she leaned up, kissing him once more. Her tail rested flat against his leg as she gave a soft moan, his lips pressed to her own as he tugged her closer by her waist. The dress prevented her from fully straddling him, but she was content in that moment to just be held there. His tongue slipped against her lips and she parted them to let him in, her own pink sliver emerging to slide against his own. His taste was sensually wet, and she heard him utter a soft groan as his hand wandered down and cupped her rear through the dress she was wearing.
The hiss she let out made him pause and he pulled back. “Everything ok?” he whispered, watching her with concern.
Octavia only giggled at his protectiveness and pecked his lips with a kiss. “Yes, except…” she pulled her hand up to slide one of the shoulder straps of her dress down. “…there’s too much in the way.” Her eyes burned into his, and he caught on with a smirk.
“Well, let’s clear the air then…” he murmured as he brought his own hand up from her rear, trailing it up her side in a teasing, brushing motion that made her shiver before he found the other strap. Taking it in his fingers, he tugged on it slowly, and Octavia only grinned as the red number slowly came down her figure, a curtain falling to reveal the curves beneath. She smirked at the sudden intake of breath he had when he saw her figure. “Goddess, you are so beautiful.”
“You’re not bad yourself, handsome.” Her hands came to rest on his chest before scooting around to hook around the back of his head. With the dress pooled at her waist, she laid clad in only her bra now, a black piece that contained her impressive bust away from sight. Breve was positioned to get an eyeful of them though once she sat up, tugging the dress further down and away until she had flung it across to a nearby chair. The rest of her made him gulp, as she was left in only a racy pair of panties and long stockings that emphasized the beautiful curve of her legs and hips.
“Don’t worry. If you like what you see, you can certainly get a feel for it too…” she teased as she tugged his hands up to cup her chest. With the bra containing them, his hands were treated to a soft texture as he rubbed her through it, causing her to groan lowly. He seemed wholly focused on them, his eyes wide as he slowly dragged his fingers across them, tugging and giving both a small squeeze. “Do you like?”
Breve’s answer was to lean up and nuzzle into her neck, kissing at the tender exposed skin there. The contact made her breath hitch as she petted the back of his head encouragingly. “Oh, yes…you’re so wonderful when you touch me like that…” Octavia whispered in his ear. Her encouragement pushed him further, the curtain of her mane swallowing him up with her smell as he licked and nibbled at her skin. The small fire that had been steadily fueled this far was starting to ignite the rest of him, and Octavia could feel it as she grinded against his lap. Even covered by his pants, the bulge pressing into her thigh only caused her to heat up moreso.
“Breve…oh, my Gentle Breve…” she whimpered when he nipped at her collarbone. “W-we should…move to the bedroom, don’t you think?” she gave a start when he suddenly sat up, and she clung to his shoulders as his arms wrapped around her middle and rear.
“Don’t worry, baby…I’m not letting go of you.” He said as he looked up to her, cradling her in his arms as he made his way to the bedroom.
Octavia could only smile and kiss him again, giggling lightly as he swiftly walked to the back. Inside, he laid her down gently, taking the time to admire just how amazingly wondrous she looked. Her lips were now swollen and puffy from all the kissing they’d done, her cheeks flushed and her eyes alight with desire. Her mane laid spread out beneath her, and two grey hands came up as she arched her back, posing for him as he smiled. He did away with his shirt, letting Octavia savor the sight of him bare chested for a moment before he was upon her.
Laying himself atop her, he assaulted her lips with vigor, his free hands coming down to caress her form. Positioned as they were, she could easily feel his hand brush past both of their stomachs before arriving at the lining of her panties. His other hand had moved under her, looking for the elusive strap hiding amidst her mane that would let him have more access to her. Finding it, he grinned into her lips before tugging it free, kissing down to her neck and slowly treading across her cleavage as the bra was removed. Her full, wondrous breasts were ripe for his taking, capped by two darkened nipples standing on end for his attentions, attentions he gladly gave.
Octavia laid her head back and gave a soft gasp as he began to kiss and assault her breasts with his hand and tongue, licking and rubbing at her flesh lovingly. When his tongue flicked at her bud, she brought her hand down and pressed his head further into her cleavage, cooing softly. “More, Breve…touch me more? Please?” she half moaned, half begged as she felt her legs twitch. His hand at her waistline hadn’t moved, and she tacked another point in his favor for being slow with her. But with her behest, she let her soft coos become moans as she felt a narrow digit begin to prod and rub her through her panties, the material now thoroughly damp from soaking up her arousal thus far.
Breve was lost amidst a sea of lust and love as he pleasured her. He loved being able to get so many sounds out of her, and his lust burned for him to make more come from her. With the way his lips were clamped around her nipple as he licked and sucked, along with his hands toying with her free breast and covered nethers, he knew he was steadily pushing her deeper into desire and sought more. Looking up to her, he slowly dragged the same index finger he’d been using to stimulate her and laid it atop the edge of her panties before disappearing within them. He cupped her with the palm of his hand and had to suppress a shudder. She was positively blazing with how her pussy was radiating heat, and he dragged the same finger down and across it, making Octavia squeal above.
“D-don’t tease me! G-give me it…p-please!” she stammered out. The very room was quickly growing hot from the pair’s actions, with sweat trickling down Octavia’s brow as she did her best to keep composure. He was going to do her in soon at this rate, in more ways than one. That train of thought derailed when she felt two fingers prod at her entrance and suddenly slip inside, causing her to groan in delight. “Oh, Breve. Right there. Right there!” she panted.
The stallion was barely able to hear, his attention split in multiple directions. He had swapped breasts, his hand now cupping wet flesh that he molded and shaped freely, rubbing her deeply as he swirled his tongue around her other nipple. Down below, his fingers had found a paradise of heat and femininity, clenched tight around his digits as he sawed them back and forth. The effect was obvious on Octavia as she writhed under him. He began to wiggle his fingers as well, Breve finding purchase in her moans as he stimulated her from multiple sources.
His lust planted another idea in his mind and he grinned into her breast before releasing it from his maw, a string of saliva linking him to her flesh before he trailed up to her lips. The contact immediately spawned a response, her tongue fervently seeking his as she moaned into his mouth. Waiting for the right timing, he counted to three before his fingers withdrew to the edge of her now swollen labia, her juices starting to run out and down her thighs, and then suddenly spreading her pussy wide with his fingers as he used the ring finger to pump into her deeply. The sensation made her gasp into his mouth and groan in a high pitch. She pulled back for air, gasping desperately.
Octavia felt on fire as he worked her over, every bit of attention he gave another spark that was starting to push her towards a swelling orgasm building within her. “Breve, please…I’m getting close…get me there, Breve, please!” she begged, rocking her hips into his finger’s thrusting. When he withdrew his hand entirely from her, she mewled in protest. “W-why are-OH!” She gasped, eyes wide, as he tugged her panties down in one fluid motion and dove in with his tongue, the appendage thick and long within her sensitive folds. A silent scream left the black-maned mare as she grabbed for his head frantically. Finding his head, she tugged desperately as he licked away, savoring her taste as he added a finger with his tongue.
She could bear no more from that point. The dual action of his finger pumping alongside his thick tongue caused her to tremble as her orgasm crashed into her. “C-cumming!” is all she could manage to utter before she screamed her release, her femcum spraying onto his waiting tongue as he lapped away, drinking up her essence as it dripped from her pink folds. Colors played before Octavia’s eyes as she came back down to reality. Peering down to the man coming up from her pussy, she panted quickly as her heart raced. Shifting suddenly, she fumbled on the bed, turning to be able to grab Breve’s waist and pull him onto the bed in a frenzy.
“You did me good, Breve…now let me return the favor.” She purred out as she quickly undid his belt and pants zipper. Her rear dangled above his head, the sheen of her juices shining on her coat as her tail teased at the top of his head. When his length was freed from its confines, it flipped up and slapped against his belly, making her gasp at him. “Oh my…oh, Breve.” She whispered as she caressed him for the first time. He was thick, the girth of his member positively large with a length she was surely going to appreciate later. Running her hand up and down the swollen mass, she felt her marehood wink in desire at the mere idea of taking him. But first things first, she told herself, before giving his tip a teasing flick of her tongue much like he’d done her. The reddened head was hot like the rest of his length, she discovered, and continue to bathe it with her tongue.
Breve sighed and tensed as she caressed and lavished his length with attention. The air was full of sensuality as he inhaled, the scent of her nearby marehood mixing with the perfume she wore and the sweat dripping from both of them. Looking up, his eyes were treated to the tantalizing sight of her pink marehood free and winking, something which made him grin. Bringing his hands up, he massaged her thighs gently, working his way up to her rear which he took the time to admire. She was a real work of beauty with how she felt and looked, and he was going to show it. With a slight push, he got her to ease her tensed legs and rest her crotch onto his face, enabling them both to please at their leisure.
When Octavia had felt him push down on her rear, she’d nearly trembled before starting to stroke him faster. Spreading her legs with him between them was an idea that sent a pleasant shiver through her spine before she refocused. His meat lay before her and she was going to have her fill of him one way or another. Taking her time, she let her tongue lash out and brush his tip before slipping down mid-way, working itself back up to the top where she swirled it around, lubricating it generously as her hands stroked and caressed what her lips could not. His very musk was intoxicating, she found, and she soon captured the tip in her mouth before slowly working her way down, stopping at a couple inches to suckle and bob her head.
As she did this, Breve resumed the work he’d done in their previous position, lapping at her pink cunny with thick, long licks as she wiggled her hips, encouraging him onward. Her efforts were making his legs tense, the muscles clenching with every brush of her tongue against his glans. The pair of them filled the room with their moans, accompanied by the wet sounds of licking and slurping that issued from their respective ends. Breve was finding Octavia’s taste addictive, pushing his face into her pussy as deeply as he could, the whole of her thighs and legs clenching around him to keep him in place. Even the smell of her, a sweet, personal scent that emanated out to him, left him trying to inhale as much of her as he could, lungs burning for more of her essence. Likewise, Octavia was scooting herself further down his member, reaching halfway and bobbing quickly, feeling him throb against her snake-like tongue that flattened and caressed him on every upwards motion she made.
Deciding to step up the ante, Octavia lifted herself up before grinning around the meat in her maw. Cupping her breasts, she clasped them around his length, trapping it in a sweaty and sensual embrace of titflesh, making him groan into her nethers. Grinning in victory at how he twitched from the soft pressure of her globes around him, she resumed sucking at his length while grinding and working the rest of him with her breasts, quickly overloading Breve’s mind with the effort. He lashed out at her pussy, licking and suckling on whatever he could get ahold of. The nub of her clit brushed his chin and he brought his tongue down, rapidly flicking against it and stimulating it as much as possible. He found success when her hips clamped around his head together, forcing him deeper into her. Her moans also traveled down his length as she continued to blow him, pre-cum now dripping from the head onto her waiting tongue.
It soon evolved into a race of who would climax first, and with the aid of her breasts, Octavia found herself winning the race to make her stallion cum first. His pre-cum was increasing with each passing moment, his shaft steeling further. Breve was now groaning deeply into her pussy, the makeshift muzzle of femininity only stirring more of his lust to take her. In desperation, he brought his lips to her clit and sucked on it firmly, tongue wrapping about it as the flesh of her labia winked rapidly. With a snap, he realized she was now swallowing on his member, and lost control. Groaning loudly, he bucked his hips, and gave a small tug on Octavia’s clit.
The pair of them became awash in their climaxes as they were brought to the tipping point. Octavia’s thick hips remained clenched around Breve’s head as her juices sprayed out onto his face, her legs trembling from the waves of ecstasy passing through her. For her behalf, Octavia had at first planned to swallow all of him, a gesture of her lust and love sewn together. But with the effects of her climax, the effort to try and contain his cock within her lips proved too much. After the first onslaught of seed, she came off of him, gasping for air as his cum slid down her throat. But the pillar trapped between her breasts wasn’t done, and continued to spurt his essence across her neck and chin before landing in thick strands atop her breasts. Breve’s legs remained locked beneath her as his hot cum dashed across her grey coat. Panting, she continued to stroke him through his climax before easing up, lifting her hips to free him from her grasp.
The white-maned stallion lay panting; gasping for air as he vaguely felt her tail brush over his forehead and cheek before she felt her soft lips kiss his cheek. Breve opened an eye and shifted, pulling her atop him as her breasts pressed against his chest, the wetness of his spilled seed a cool balm to their heated bodies. They stayed there for a time, simply relishing the aftershock of each other’s orgasm, no words leaving either’s lips between their gentle kisses. It was only a few minutes after that Octavia felt his member brush against her leg, and she grinned as he blushed, a bashful smile on his face.
“Looks like you’re ready for the finale…” she purred as her hand came down to caress his renewed length gingerly. It was still wet from the saliva bath she’d given it, aided as well by the globs of cum that had been left dripping from it. Breve groaned lowly and nodded.
“I…I want you, Octavia…” he let out as she leaned up slowly, her curtain of black hiding her face partially. It only added to her allure, one eye gazing from beyond it into his own with a burning fire of desire that made him throb. He laid back and let her straddle his waist as she brought his length up, gently grinding against his meat as her marehood dripped fluids onto it. She peered down at him, and Breve felt his heart nearly stop at how breathtaking she was like this. He committed the image to memory, her nude body sweating and writhing atop him, before returning to reality as he felt his tip come into contact with a wet and hot embrace. His tip grinded against her pussy, Octavia’s swollen lips hungry for him as she began to sink him into her.
Octavia’s breath caught in her lungs as she slowly but surely took him in. “Oh…oh my…oh!” she gasped out as her inner marehood was spread apart by his girth. “Breve! Oh, Breve! It’s so thick! It’s so bucking thick!” she hissed out in pleasure. His hands rested on her hips, keeping her steady as she sank down. She paused at two-thirds down, her mind reeling and feeling light-headed. “It’s…so wonderful…”
Breve’s own self was nearly insane with the sensations pouring over his cock, his entire body locking up from pleasure. Octavia’s pussy had a tight hold on him, certainly tighter than most he’d known. He surmised idly that it must’ve been awhile for her, but lost that thought with every pulsing twitch his member gave as her heat surrounded him. The pair sat like that for a few moments, Breve letting her adjust to him as he leaned up and gently kissed her breasts, massaging them once more. The added pleasure worked like a signal for Octavia, and she slowly rose up before reaching the head and coming to a stop, then sinking down once more.
They both cried out in lust as she continued to ride him, now in more earnest as with each stroke, she became more and more enamored by his maleness within her. Her hands found his shoulders and clung to him tightly, her nails digging into his sweating skin and coat as she bounced. The motions added a distinct swing to her breasts, one that Breve found hypnotizing as he continued to massage and worship the valley of her breasts. “Oh, Breve! Breve, you’re so wonderful!” Octavia exclaimed at one point, her marehood clenched tight around him.
The lovemaking became rhythmic within them both, the stallion adding small thrusts every time she came down on him. Her tail and rear would slap into his legs as well, adding to the lewd sound of the mare’s wet pussy being speared by his length. After several minutes of it, Octavia could feel her edge nearing, but Breve was still stiff and going strong. Wanting to add to his pleasure, she leaned her head down, her black mane teasing at his shoulder and arm as she whispered. “Take me, Breve…make me feel like a real mare.” She nibbled and gave his earlobe a sensual lick.
Like a trigger, Breve’s hands came down and clamped hard on her ass, taking hold of both cheeks as he groaned heavily into her fur, his hot breath coming in quick bursts as he began to thrust upwards into her, forcing her down on him harder. Octavia’s eyes widened and a smile spread on her lips as the pace became forceful, the smooth strokes being foregone for power and penetration. He was jackhammering up into her, and she loved every bit of it. Her climax came that much faster towards her, and she frantically scrambled to hold onto him and brace herself. Breve was unimpeded, too deeply fueled by his lust as his spear pushed into her deeper. With a gasp, Octavia realized she was now being hilted into it, taking the entirety of his length into her cunny. That knowledge, along with the wet sound of their nethers meeting, tipped her over. She lost her grip and Breve had to move his hands up, catching her back as she tilted back, her breasts heaving and bouncing as she looked skyward.
“BREVE!” was all she could comprehend to say as with a piercing scream, her third climax burst to life. Her sight dimmed as the world blurred amidst the surge of orgasmic delight surrounded her being. All the while, Gentle Breve was being anything but, continuing to thrust as his length trembled within her. The added tightness of her climax served to provide the extra friction he needed for his own ending, and quickly thrust several more times before pushing her down onto his length, the entirety of him buried within her as his flared head erupted, bursting with his stallion seed and flooding her canal with him. The hand on her ass cheek remained still, holding the flesh firmly while his other arm was hooked around her back, lost amidst the lustrous soft strands of her mane as he gasped for air. They both became lost amidst their climaxes, the symphony of their screams filling the room as thought was lost, nothing but praise and ecstasy existing.
When the pair of them finally came down from their orgasms, it left them spent and drained. Octavia collapsed atop him, barely conscious, while Breve steadied her, lying back quickly with her spread out atop him. His hands were entangled in the mess of her mane, the scent of their lovemaking thick in the air around them. Resting his head atop hers, he nuzzled his cheek against her black mane and panted deeply, inhaling her scent as much as he could.
Octavia’s hands weakly grasped around him, embracing her new lover as she peered up at him. “Breve…you…you were amazing…” she whispered.
“Likewise…I’ve never had any like you, Octavia. Stay with me.” He asked, giving her forehead a soothing kiss.
“And make beautiful music together? If it’s like that, you’ll have me for life.” She replied, smiling as she snuggled up to him, unconsciousness taking them both into the bliss of a fulfilled sleep.