//------------------------------// // 4. Our Home's First Meal // Story: Out of Love // by Carapace //------------------------------// Aspire’s dazzling blue eyes flitted about the room, a smile spread across his face as he examined his work. Green storage slime oozed down the corners of the room and crawled out over the floor like webbing, his wooden desk had been set up along the far wall with a podseat before it, and his pencils, pens, papers, and several of Sure Stroke’s sketches were all organized to an almost obsessive degree. His old saddlebags, tattered and worn by years of running around town and playing, hung from a hook mounted on the wall. A tall bookshelf stacked to the brim with all the texts and stories he’d collected over the years stood along the far side wall, facing toward the desk so they were easily visible. The perfect method for an idle selection, if he did say so himself. Aspire stole a glance up at the ticking clock stuck to the wall by a glob of slime. Five-thirty, he thought. Need to finish up making my bedpod before dinner. Turning his attention back to the half-finished bedpod, the changeling stepped toward it as he maneuvered his tongue about within his mouth and let his slime glands begin to secrete their payload. His cheeks filled, Aspire drew in a deep breath through his nose and tilted his head back, then snapped forward as quick as a striking snake and spewed a thick stream of gelatinous slime over the pod, where it hit with a delightful squelch against the thick outer shell. He nodded in satisfaction, his smile spreading into a grin. “Finally,” he muttered with a happy buzz of his wings. Aspire took a running leap, spreading his hooves wide and turning about in midair so he landed on his back within the warm, gooey embrace of his new bedpod. The changeling let out a sigh and repeated, “Finally!” His own room in his own house! A home shared with his sister and favorite ponies, no less! Were he still a little nymph, Aspire might’ve kicked his hooves in the air and chittered his head off! The thought gave him pause. Who was going to tell him that he shouldn’t do just that? He was an adult, for love’s sake—and in his own home! Aspire could do what he liked, and if he so pleased to act like a nymph at his age, he would! So he did. The full-grown changeling kicked his hooves in the air and chittered, buzzing his wings against his bedpod so the very slime vibrated around him and echoed with his wings. A strange, trilling melody tickled his ears and only made him chitter more. “Should I come back?” Sure Stroke’s voice, thick with amusement, called from the door. His ears twitched. Aspire jolted upright, his eyes snapped open and flitted about until he found his beautiful girlfriend standing in the doorway with a playful grin spread across her muzzle. Sure Stroke sauntered into the room with such confidence and grace in her stride that one would’ve been forgiven for forgetting how nervous she’d been in her younger years. Her deep blue eyes scanned the room with a hawklike gaze, appraising his work as if she herself had plans for how his room should look. A notion which brought a wry snort. As if! The teasing edge to her smile vanished. “It looks good,” she said softly, turning her gaze upon him. Sure Stroke approached the age of his bedpod and reared up, resting her hooves upon the outer shell. “Almost like your old room.” Aspire rolled over so he could nuzzle her nose. He trailed his hooves up to caress the underside of her wrists. “One or two changes here and there,” he murmured. “Why tinker with the overall design when it isn’t broken?” “Fair enough.” Sure Stroke leaned into his touch. “I see you’re happy with your bedpod. Is it as comfortable as the last?” “Of course. But don’t take my word for it.” He snaked his hooves around her elbows and then, with one quick jerk, tugged her forward so she toppled over the edge and into the gelatinous embrace of his new bedpod. Then he rolled over and threw a foreleg across her chest, squeezing her tight before he dotted her nose with a kiss. Sure Stroke let out a squeak, her wings unfurled and feathers fluffed in a magnificent display of plumage. Feathers so soft and beautiful he would let himself be wrapped in those wings even if it meant sacrificing his bedpod for her bed. A sight which earned her another kiss. A streak of pink dusted her cheeks. “Flirt,” she accused. Aspire hummed an affirmative. “You know it.” He leaned forward, slowly licking her nose. “And you love it.” Her blush deepened, a wobbly smile played upon her lips as her ears slowly splayed back. He felt the tip of her tail swish against his ankles. A low purr built in his chest and rolled about in the back of his throat. Aspire nipped at his girlfriend’s nose with his tiny, pointed incisors, then kissed the very same spot, earning a squeak and squirm that sent his blood pumping. Throwing caution to the wind, he sealed their lips together in a heated kiss and teased her lips with his forked tongue to request entry. One, to his delight, Sure Stroke was happy to grant and met with her own joining the fray with vigor. The sweet taste of her love—cake with sweet white frosting—and a kick of lust’s spice danced upon his tongue. Aspire held her close, his tongue ensnaring hers in that way he knew would coax forth a gasp and sensuous arch of her back. Sure enough, her grip around his neck tightened, Sure Stroke pressed herself against him, mewling into the kiss. The tips of her primaries teased and trailed up his thighs to caress his flanks. For a split second, he considered skipping dinner with Esalen and Toola altogether. Why not? He had his favorite meal in his bedpod. And she seemed all too happy to play. Not to mention eager. But plans had been made, and he couldn’t just assume that Sure Stroke would agree to feed him because of how she tasted. Besides, a kiss, a hug, a moment alone with her was more than enough. Those little moments always were. Not to mention, he had her every day now. Every day together in their home. It almost pained him to break the kiss, and the protesting whine it drew from the mare beneath him drove him to appease her with an affectionate peck upon her snout. Aspire sat back on his haunches and gently tugged her up into a sitting position. “We should probably head out to the kitchen,” he said softly. “Before Essy and Toola decide dinner for us.” Sure Stroke playfully rolled her eyes. “Oh, how horrible. It’s not like you and Essy don’t like the same foods!” She flicked a feather across his snout. “Or like we don’t know one another’s tastes after years together.” A fair point, but he couldn’t just give her that. Her little feather flick earned her a gentle boop upon her nose. “Well, yes, but I think we should still have a say in what gets made, so come on.” Aspire tugged her toward the edge of the shell, chittering in amusement as she feigned a groan and tried to sandbag his efforts. A quick jerk brought her tumbling forward into his embrace, just perfectly so he could nip at her ear. The pegasus yelped, her ears splaying once more. “E-Excuse you!” she cried. “Quit acting like a foal and I won’t have to tease,” he retorted, baring his fangs in a wicked grin. “I won’t complain though—I win either way.” With a huff and a poorly faked glare, Sure Stroke twisted out of his grasp and aimed a swipe of her wing at his head as she moved toward the edge of the shell. Years of such antics prepared him well. As if he had a sixth sense, Aspire ducked at just the right moment, just in time to feel her downy feathers brush over his mane. Then, he darted forward and, laying a hoof upon her wing so she couldn’t go for another swipe, stole a quick kiss. Sure Stroke’s frown was ruined by a little twitch at either corner of her mouth. “Jerk.” “You know it, Doodle.” Aspire waggled his ears and stole another kiss. “Now come along. It’s our first meal together in this house, and I will cocoon and drag you along if you force me to!” His threat carried little real heat, more teasing than anything. But it served to get her moving, albeit with another playful roll of her eyes and incomprehensible mutter under her breath. Sure Stroke hopped down from the bedpod and took her place on his right side. The tips of her feathers brushed affectionately against his flank. “Ready, oh venerable smugling?” she teased. Leaning in to brush his shoulder against hers, Aspire nosed against her cheek. “Of course, silly Doodle.” Mealtimes in Faith’s house had always been a bit interesting—well, mealtimes in changeling houses throughout the village typically were. It only made sense, given that some meals involved feeding on ponies’ love and then coaxing the silly things to eat more than their usual fill to regain their strength. But what was quite different was how they cooked when in teams. Faith had always taken such duties on herself, all but forbidding guests to assist. Her family and the mares in her nymphs’ lives, on the other hoof, were another matter entirely. Much like their ancestors in the Faerie Glen, when changelings came together to cook, it wasn’t just a simple matter of preparing ingredients, cooking, adding spices, and serving. Aspire idly tossed a can of lemon-pepper across the kitchen into his sister’s waiting hoof, with such accuracy that she didn’t even have to turn to look in order to catch it. At the same time, he nimbly stepped out of the way so Toola could prance past on her hind hooves carrying a tray of freshly cleaned and sliced fish—tilapia, this time—while passing him a pair of spice shakers for the rice without so much as a stumble or faltering step. Rather, she tittered and waggled her brows at him, flicking her tail across his shoulder as she passed him by. He stuck his tongue out at her, chuckling to himself, and trotted over to deliver the spice shakers to Sure Stroke. Setting them on the counter next to the stove, he gazed over her shoulder to inspect her progress. The light brown grains and scent of herbs made his mouth water. Aspire waited until his loving girlfriend gave him the nod and shifted to allow him space before he took up the spice shakers and lightly seasoned the pan. A hum of her approval earned a smile and peck on her soft, violet cheek. “Smells good,” he praised. Sure Stroke rustled her wings. “It’s that old recipe you all seemed to like last time you visited my—er, my parents’ house,” she amended. “I thought it might go well with the fish, especially the lemon-pepper.” “I’d imagine it will. I look forward to trying it. Do you mind if I just—” he made to reach across the stove to grab a little bottle of soy. His girlfriend didn’t lean back as he expected. Instead, the cheeky little thing leaned up and kissed him at the end of his jaw, right where the joint met his neck. The exact spot she knew never failed to bring forth a rolling purr. A teasing nibble nearly made him jump. Aspire retrieved the bottle of soy sauce and shot her a sidelong look, and received a winning grin in kind. She’d pay for that later. He flicked his tongue across her snout, smirking at the squeal and scrunch it elicited, then stepped away from her side of the stove before she could retaliate. Others might call it a retreat. Aspire preferred to think of it as a tactical maneuver toward future girlfriend squirming. Aspire trotted over to where he’d set up a half-circle pan over one of the open burners, leaning over to inspect the green beans he’d been working on. Taking a quick sniff, he nodded happily. They were ready. He poured a generous amount of soy sauce into the pan, then plucked the sesame shaker off the overhead rack and shook the seeds over the hissing, bubbling mixture. With another nod, he selected a wooden spoon from a hook and began prodding the green beans around so each was evenly soaked. Their meal was ready in short order. The four divided up duties with little discussion needed—each bringing their respective dish over to the table, then setting about to retrieve plates, cutlery, glasses, and cider from the icebox. Once the table was set, they each slid into one of the wooden chairs surrounding the table—with both couples, predictably, sitting so they were closest to one another—and began dishing up their food. Idle chatter mixed with laughter and mirthful chittering as they began to eat dinner. Their first meal together under their own roof. And by love was every bite of it delicious. From the delicious kick of lemon-pepper tilapia to the perfected spice of Sure Stroke’s rice, and the tangy green bean dish he’d so carefully made, Aspire wasn’t quite sure he could’ve picked a better meal. Well. A full meal of love notwithstanding. That just wasn’t fair. By the time they’d finished everything off, Aspire found himself wanting more. But without any leftovers remaining, he had to settle for something he and Esalen hadn’t done since they were five. The twins shared a look, then a solemn nod. Aspire had to suppress a snicker at the confused glances Sure Stroke and Toola fixed them with before they picked up their plates in unison and set about licking them clean, complete with loud slurping noises. Musical laughter filled his ears, the taste of mirth played upon his tongue like cotton candy fluff as he finished cleaning his plate of soy and fish. A delectable sweetness he savored. Then, the felt the soft caress of one of his lovely girlfriend’s feathers tease along the outside edge of his ear. Aspire squirmed and writhed, a half-squeak escaped his lips. He pinned his ear and pressed his head against his shoulder to guard from his assailant. “You are still such a nymph!” Sure Stroke mock scolded. Her eyes dazzled merrily, a bright smile nearly split her muzzle. “What would your mother say if she saw you two?” “Mom can’t scold us now!” the twins chimed in unison, both smirking at their respective girlfriends. “We’re doomed, Doodle!” Toola cried, throwing a dramatic hoof across her forehead. She fluttered her lashes. “Doomed to suffer in a house with the terrible twins, unchecked by their mother’s firm hoof! Woe is us! Woe is us!” Across the table, Esalen snickered. “Give it a reset, giggle box, you know you love it,” she said, lightly booping her love’s nose. “And you’re laying it on a bit think, don’t you think?” “When dating you?” Toola teased before pecking her nose. “Never.” Chuckling, they rose and began to carry their plates over to the sink. Aspire and Sure Stroke volunteered to wash while Esalen and Toola retrieved the rest of the dishes, then helped put them back in their appropriate cabinets and drawers. A little flirt of Sure Stroke’s soft tail earned a smile and brush of his shoulder against hers, then a kiss beneath her jawline. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile and bite her bottom lip. Those deep, soulful eyes of hers dazzled so that his heart skipped a beat. When they finished, Aspire snagged a towel off the hook to dry his hooves, then passed it over to Sure Stroke. She returned the gesture with a grateful kiss, and a little lick to the tip of his nose. Aspire beamed, leaning up against the counter while the girls trotted over, finished with their duties. “I’d call that a resounding success for our first meal together,” Esalen said. She leaned against Toola Roola and nuzzled into the crook of her neck. Her eyes flitted over to meet his. “We should probably think of some sort of rotation for meals, though. It’s probably not going to work out that all four of us can cook at the same time every night.” “Mornings, too,” he replied with a nod. Turning to Sure Stroke he asked, “Think we can take nights and they can do mornings?” Sure Stroke bobbed her head from side to side. “You do have the earliest start, so that’d probably work out best.” “Caress did say we’d be opening up around nine, so you’d be at school already, smugling.” Toola giggled. “We’ll think of you while we relax and enjoy our coffee.” “And I of you when I get done with my trade earlier,” Aspire shot back. “Sounds to me like we have a plan. And a good first night under the same roof.” Another fit of giggles escaped Toola’s lips. She waggled her ears and chimed, “One big, happy family at last!” Looping her hoof around Esalen’s elbow, she tugged her forward and threw her hooves wide, drawing everyone into the biggest hug she could manage. “Group hug! First night group hugs for all!” Laughing and chittering filled their modest kitchen. Aspire managed to wriggle his forelegs free so he could one around the bubbly mare’s shoulders, the other around his happy little pegasus. His Doodle. Sweetness, utmost love and joy from both mares danced upon his tongue. Ice cream, cotton candy, and caramel, all in one bite. If he weren’t so full, he might just ask. But, then again, the moment was far too perfect. So perfect, he had to share a look and a nod with Esalen again, and ruin it. The twins groaned, each burying their noses in their girlfriends’ shoulders and cried, “Do you silly ponies have to be so sappy?” Aspire knew full well he’d earned the gentle swat over his ears. He also knew just how much she expected it, and the mirth and joy she felt in her chest. He could taste it all night, even as they shuffled along to bed a few hours later. A feeling which only billowed when they finished brushing their teeth and made to part in the hallway. A hoof upon his shoulder stopped him in mid step. Aspire turned to meet Sure Stroke’s eyes, flitting his tongue curiously to receive a sampling of delectable cake and sweet frosting, and a hint of spice—her love mixed with desire. Fixing him with a half-lidded gaze, she trotted forward, her shoulder brushing lightly against his flank and soft feathers trailing along his side until she drew close enough to nuzzle beneath his chin. “Care to wrap me up tonight?” she whispered softly. “Spend our first night here together?” His ears stood ramrod straight. Aspire dotted a kiss upon her brow, then laid his head atop hers. “I’d love nothing more.”