//------------------------------// // 5. Into Our Future We Walk // Story: Out of Love // by Carapace //------------------------------// Aspire awoke to warmth the likes of which he only knew on those happy nights of nymphood sleepovers. His eyes still shut, he smiled, shifting just slightly in the comfort of the night’s bedwrap as he tightened his embrace around the beautiful mare in his grasp. Nuzzling into the back of her neck, her drew a sleepy, contented sigh from his podmate. His girlfriend. The notion to stay just like this, snuggled together, and bask in her company all day floated to the forefront of his mind. But the pesky responsible adult side of him decided to stand up and remind him that he wasn’t a nymph on summer break any longer. He was a full-grown changeling with a trade. A trade which began today. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, washing over his slumbering girlfriend’s coat. She shuddered in his grasp and mumbled in her sleep, “‘pire, not in front of the foals … s’posed to be teaching …” Arching a brow, Aspire opened his eyes and fixed the back of her head with a wry look. He blew a breath out his nose to banish a few locks of mussed purple mane, then leaned in to nuzzle just beneath her right ear. “I’m certainly not doing anything I wouldn’t in front of the classroom,” he whispered. “But you need to wake up so we can get moving, silly Doodle.” Her fear flicked twice and she began to stir as if to rise. And, indeed, years ago he might have been fooled into thinking she would be awoken so easily from such comfort. But countless nights spent sleeping at one another’s homes had educated Aspire in the ways of the sleeping Sure Stroke. A knowing smile crept across his muzzle. The show was about to begin. She settled right back down with another mumble, incomprehensible this time. Her feathers fluffed and twitched and he could feel her forehooves clamp down upon his own, squeezing them tight like she was trying to make certain he couldn’t release his embrace or try to tickle her out of her happy slumber. A wise move, he had to say. Unfortunately for her, it provided no such protection from his nose, lips, or fangs. The changeling nuzzled a slow circle in her mane, the tips of his fangs teasing her scalp gently in just the right way; it never failed to make her gasp and arch her back and press into his chest. “C’mon, Doodle,” he crooned, kissing just beneath her ear. “You know it’s time to get up. I’m gonna have to start nibbling if you don’t behave.” Another flick. She ducked her head as if to hide and her wings unfurled just as much as the bedwrap would allow, but it wasn’t enough to cover herself and protect from the impending onslaught. Instead she gave a more insistent murmur, one of stern demand for continued sleep and cuddles, and nuzzled his wrists. Adorable. But not today, pretty mare. He leaned in close, teasing his lips and fangs along the outer edge of her ear. “Wake up,” he sang. Aspire opened his mouth and let the forked tips of his tongue flicker against her coat, drawing another sudden bout of flicking to try and escape. But all for naught. He caught it in his teeth and nibbled gently for a few seconds, savoring the gasp and rush of desire he tasted. A needy whine sounded from the back of her throat. Feathers fluffing, Sure Stroke pressed herself against him, her hips bucking back. He felt her tail swish against his carapace. “Aspire!” she pleaded. “Time to wake up,” he said with a teasing chitter. “Let go of my hooves and open your eyes so we can get moving. I need to slice the wrap open anyway.” Sure Stroke gave another whine, this one tapering off into a grumpy little grumble, but she surrendered, releasing his hooves and giving a little toss of her mane that whipped him in the face. One last little show of rebellion before his demands were met. Fair, but he couldn’t let that pass without retribution. Aspire nipped just beneath her ear, catching a bit of skin with his incisors in a way that made her squeal, then leaned forward to slice the bedwrap open with his long fangs. Their cheeks brushed together as he worked, hers pressed against his as she gently nosed along the corner of his mouth. Always that last effort to sway him, so very much like a changeling, in her own way. A true mare of Respite. Any other day, perhaps. Turning to plant a gentle kiss on her lips, he pushed outward, splitting the bedwrap down the seam he’d created. The wrap split apart with a rubbery noise, and after one last whine from his darling girlfriend as she sat up and tossed her messy mane over her shoulder, she shot him a dirty look. A cheeky smile played upon his lips. “Good morning to you too, sunshine,” he teased. Eyes narrowing, she flicked her primaries across his snout. “Hush, you,” she shot back, her warm smile robbing her words of any venom. “You’re lucky you’re cute or I’d have to pummel you for waking me up like that.” His smile grew into a vulpine grin. Aspire rose slowly, with a sinuous, almost fluid motion, and caught her in a tight embrace. The changeling pressed his cheek against hers and drew his snout up her shoulder on a slow trek toward her neck, spurring a gasp as he coaxed her to present it for a gentle kiss and tease of his fangs. “I think,” he purred, “I might like to see you try, Doodle. If only so I have a reason to pay you back for the offense. Though, you just might enjoy that.” The shudder that ran through her body demanded he flick his tongue to taste it. Oh, and there it was—sweet, delectable love, yes, but with no small dash of that wonderful spice he, admittedly, had craved for months. A little taste of her ardor, her want for him. Not for the first time did he wonder if she might find it odd that he enjoyed tasting her desires when he coaxed them out; if he asked, might she be her precocious little self and demand to know why he only teased it? The answer was quite clear to him. It was mixed in, like a bitter herb. Nerves. Not ready. Aspire gave no such hint that he was bothered. For how could he be? They would be ready when they both were ready, and not a second before. Until then, he had this. The chance to nuzzle a trail up her jawline to steal a lingering kiss upon her lips which made her ears splay and cheeks fill rosy red. “But for now,” he continued, sliding past her to hop out of the pod and flick his tail across her nose, “we need to get moving or we’ll be late for our first day of trades.” Another bout of grumbling. She fixed him with a tired glare as she made to follow. “You’re a jerk, you know that?” “Yes.” He waggled his ears. “But I’m your favorite jerk.” He didn’t even try to dodge the swipe that followed. He’d earned that one. After the pair had taken their turns washing and going through their respective morning rituals, Aspire and Sure Stroke met up again in the hallway to share a quick kiss and nuzzle before they trotted to the kitchen. As they made their way through their new home, the familiar scent of daisies, oatmeal, and freshly squeezed juice wafted to Aspire’s nose. A contented smile spread across his face as they rounded the corner to the kitchen. It wasn’t pancakes, but his sister and Toola knew a good breakfast. The mares were awake and peppy, as usual. Toola hummed and bobbed, swishing her tail so those lovely curls of hers bounced with each little motion of her hips while she added a bit of milk to the mix. She barely had to look over her shoulder to catch the can of cinnamon Esalen tossed her way, laughing as she put it to the side. “I’m not adding this into the whole thing, Essy!” she called. Esalen chittered from her place near the table. “You know we all use it,” she replied, setting a ceramic jug of orange juice at the center. A plate, cup, and utensils were already set at each position. Her horn lit verdant green and a tendril of magic snaked out to collect a bowl of fresh daisies, floating it over to rest by the jug. Satisfied, she looked up, causing her sugar pink eyes to meet Aspire’s. “Well, well, good morning, sleepyheads,” she greeted with an ear waggle. Her tongue flicked out, a coy smile spread across her muzzle. “And how was our night together?” Rolling his eyes, Aspire leaned against his blushing girlfriend and said, “Quite lovely, as a matter of fact. Spent the entire time wrapped and snuggled with the most beautiful mare in Equestria. Thanks for asking.” The little squeak and duck of Sure Stroke’s head earned a round of chitters and giggles. Her feathers fluffing, she sucked in her lips as if to try and hide that goofy smile threatening to spread. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered bashfully. “And, yet, I’m not lying,” he replied without missing a beat. The playful quips and laughter went back and forth as Toola doled out a bowl of oatmeal to each of them, passing around the cinnamon so they could season it to their liking. With that done, the four young adults sat down together as they had the night before and dined, a nice, leisurely conversation flowing between bites and sips, stolen kisses and brushed shoulders. Though perhaps not with the same discretion that might have been required under their parents’ roofs. Once they finished, Aspire and Sure Stroke collected the dishes and cutlery, taking them over to the sink for a quick wash. An unspoken little routine that had become quite typical as they’d gotten older—whoever didn’t cook, washed. When everyone cooked, it was time for team washing. Aspire glanced at the clock glued to the sitting room wall by a well-placed glob of slime. “I’d better head out,” he noted. “If I don’t now, I’ll have to gallop through the village again.” “And we get an hour of free time before we even have to think about moving!” Toola teased in song. “Maybe should’ve found a trade that let you sleep in, lazy-chitin!” Esalen wrinkled her snout. “Leave his nicknames to me, treasure. That one missed the mark a bit.” The bubbly little gymnast turned yoga instructor flicked a curl of her bouncy tail across her love’s nose. “I’ll nickname him if I want to, Essy! And I’m not wrong anyway!” “Fair enough. He is lazy.” Rolling his eyes, Aspire turned to summon his saddlebags. “Har har, laugh it up. One day, you two will adopt a nymph or foal, and I’ll teach them all sorts annoying things to do when I send them home from school.” He pointedly ignored their laughter and taunts in favor of catching his girlfriend in a hug and dotting a kiss upon her nose. “Have a good day with mom.” “And you with Abacus and the foals,” Sure Stroke replied softly, pecking his lips. “I’ll see if I can sneak away to have lunch with you.” “Hmmm, now there’s something to look forward to.” The pair shared one last kiss, then Aspire regretfully released her from his embrace and briskly trotted out of the house and down the path leading into the village. His mind quite clear and set on his goal—his first true day of teaching. It wouldn’t do to be late a second time, Abacus’s little joke notwithstanding. Speaking of which … A wicked smirk made its way across his lips. Abacus had been just a bit too smug with his little prank. And having all their students sing that old song at him after? Clearly, the student-teacher would have to impart a lesson to his mentor. If he could beat him there. Aspire galloped toward the old schoolhouse like so many times before. This time, he had a few surprises in mind for that old unicorn. The thundering of his hooves against the wooden floor echoed through the hallway, a familiar sound, though one that came without the fear of detention for a change. A wide grin split his face and he had to swallow a chittering laugh as he skidded around the corner, hopping on his right hooves to try to avoid an unfortunate collision with the far side wall, before he hurried toward his goal—that classroom door at the far end. Hopefully, he’d beaten Abacus. He could just slip in, plant a little surprise, then slip back out and act like he’d been waiting. Like a good student. Even he had to snort at the notion. Who’d believe that for more than half a second? It’d probably work better if he just wandered around a bit until he saw Abacus show up, then sauntered in a few minutes after to enjoy the look on his face and the sweet, sweet taste of a prank gone well. Aspire trotted to a halt just before the door and pushed it open, his eyes glowing green and his very carapace itching to get started. Both that wicked glow and his smile died faster than any plan to steal from Queen Euphoria’s sweets stash. “Ah, good morning, Aspire!” Abacus greeted with a merry wave. The stallion was seated at his desk with a mug of hot tea and two stacks of papers ready for grading. He fixed his new trainee with a bright smile and nodded toward the teapot he had set in the back corner on a small cupboard. “I just made a pot a bit ago. I’ve got a few spare mugs, unless you brought one in your bags.” The changeling shook his head. “N-No,” he replied dumbly. “I only have the one Doodle made me for Sharers’ Day a few years back and I worry about breaking it, so I just … leave it home and only use it there.” Come to think of it, he hadn’t used it since the move. He’d have to change that later, but first, his plans! How in love’s name was he supposed to get one over on Abacus to balance the scales? Licking his lips, he trotted over to deposit his saddlebags by the desk, eying his teacher a moment. “Did … you come in early because you were behind on grading?” Chuckling, Abacus shook his head. “Oh, Celestia no!” He raised his brows as if to share some great secret. “I come in early so I can get ahead on grading. That way, I get to go home and spend my free time with Stalwart, while the other teachers have to sit and grade papers either here or at home for hours.” Aspire struggled to keep his dismay hidden. “So you wake up early every day just to get ahead on paperwork?” He blinked. “Instead of, like, staying an extra few minutes with Stalwart?” “Oh, don’t you worry about me and Stalwart.” Abacus waved him off. “My husband wakes up before me on weekdays to shower and get ready for his shift. He usually ends up kissing me awake and coaxing me up by telling me about what he made me for breakfast before he heads out. We sleep in and cuddle on the weekends.” Oh, sweet Morrigan’s crown, he gets up that early? The corner of his mouth twitched. “I … see.” Aspire forced himself to keep smiling, cursing inwardly all the while. He’d have to find some other way. Somehow. “Very forward thinking of you. I might have to borrow that one, if you don’t mind.” The way his mentor beamed made his teeth grind. “Not at all! In fact, I highly encourage it! I’m sure Sure Stroke would just love to have you home earlier every day!” Abacus lit his horn and tugged one of the desk chairs over for Aspire to sit. “Now, why don’t you grab yourself a mug and lend me a hoof? I can show you how I tend to work the grading scale with this age group.” The stallion’s face was the very picture of blissful ignorance. Innocence, even. He didn’t have the slightest clue! Aspire didn’t dare flick his tongue. If he tasted innocence at that point, he would’ve had to hiss and fling something across the room. Any plan of deserved payback had been dashed by an unhappy, coincidental habit! One he’d have to wake up even earlier to get around! Still, he kept that smile affixed. He couldn’t let Abacus know that. He’d find a way. “That’s a great idea. You have sugar, right?” he asked, making his way over to the cupboard. “You’re asking a stallion married to a changeling if he keeps sugar in his cupboard? Aspire, please.” “Fair enough.” Aspire opened the cupboard and selected a plain white mug, then grabbed the sugar bowl. He poured himself a full cup, spooned in enough sugar to make Sure Stroke cringe and mutter in that playfully just audible way about abusing an innocent cup of tea, then placed the bowl back and closed it up. Satisfied, he trotted back over to the desk and took his seat beside Abacus. “Okay,” he said. “So, what are we grading?” “Oh, I had them do some write-ups on trades they were considering. Just like I had you do when you were younger.” Abacus gave him a sidelong look and smile. “So, really, easy grading. Unless they just wrote down a sentence and didn’t go into why or what they’d do with it.” Almost on cue, he looked down at the next paper on the stack and sighed. His smile fell. “Like this one, unfortunately. Cordial Tidings just doesn’t seem to like going into any sort of detail.” Curious, Aspire stole a peek and promptly sighed just as he had. Just as Abacus said it, one line, no detail. Ah, reluctant students. He nodded toward the stack. “Do you want me to take half?” Abacus lit his horn and split the stack resting in the middle of his desk, passing the bottom half to Aspire. “Please. The stack between ours is where we’ll put the graded ones.” “Sounds like a plan.” He settled in to start, floating a red pen from Abacus’s little cup so he could take it in hoof. After a quick sip of his tea, he selected the first paper and began reading. Purely by habit, he ran his tongue along his lips to wet them, receiving in turn the distinct taste of contentment, joy, and … Aspire froze. Slowly, he turned to look at Abacus and found the stallion looking at him out of the corner of his eye. That damnably innocent smile was still playing upon his lips. But his eyes told another story. They twinkled like dazzling stars, or a changeling in the midst of a trick. “Is something the matter, Aspire?” Abacus tilted his head. “You look shaken.” The changeling jolted. “Uh, no.” He forced a smile. “Just thinking over this one.” Abacus hummed. “Well, don’t forget to leave feedback. We want to help them of course.” His piece said, he returned to his grading, floating his coffee cup up to meet his lips without a care toward the changeling giving him the most dangerous stare he could manage. Very well. Aspire narrowed his eyes. Challenge accepted, Abacus.