Twilight couldn’t bring herself to move for a long while. At some point the candles went out.
When she finally stirred from the ball she’d slumped into, leaning against the chair her father had been sat in and feeling his warmth slowly leave the fabric, the room was almost pitch black. The only light came through the windows, from the barest hint of blue staining the sky over the horizon.
She’d stopped crying, too – there was nothing left anymore, and her eyes were dry and sore. Most of her was sore, in fact. That could partly be blamed on sitting in the same position for so long, but beneath that stiffness was a deeper exhaustion that ran right to her bones. Twilight didn’t know how to fix that one.
Go on then, she thought. I know you want to say something.
Celestia’s voice didn’t reply. Neither did the bitter voice, Night Light’s double. Even her conscience had no response for her. For a brief moment Twilight wished the Princess actually was here, or any of her friends. Someone she could rush and hug and just stay surrounded by their hooves. She quickly dismissed that as stupid fantasy, for the same reason she couldn’t do that with any of her family. Long hugs demanded questions, ones Twilight couldn’t answer.
Night Light hadn’t even wanted to touch her at the end. Hadn’t even helped his daughter off the floor because… Why? Because he was scared? Because he was disgusted? Twilight didn’t know. She didn’t think it mattered. Either way it was a far cry from the tight grip he’d had on her hooves before that, from the feel of his chest pressed against her own.
She shook her head. Thoughts like that didn’t help the pangs that kept stabbing through her, driving perilously close to her heart. Didn’t help the dull ache that filled her almost completely, pushing out everything else.
We all fall down sometimes, kiddo. You just have to keep picking yourself up.
Even now she couldn’t get him out of her head, Night Light’s voice calm and gently encouraging. But Twilight had done more than fall down this time. She’d plummeted.
And she wasn’t sure she could pick herself up anymore.
***
Clink.
The sound of cutlery against plates. It set Twilight’s teeth on edge, making her wince every time it sliced through the silence that only she and her father noticed or belonged to, the rest of her family blissfully unaware of the thick atmosphere settling itself between them. Their voices barely reached Twilight, mere background noise as she did her best to not look at her father. She still stole every glance she could, though, chiding herself whenever she did.
Several times she caught him doing the same, their eyes snapping together. Each time she’d immediately avert her gaze, ashamed. She couldn’t believe no-one had noticed that they hadn’t spoken a word to each other all morning. Twilight had barely spoken at all, in fact, dodging all but the most direct questions and answering even those with monosyllables. She didn’t feel like talking. Her voice sounded much too loud.
“And so Cadance’s guard says,” said Shining, grinning already at the coming punchline, “but Princess, we don’t have any Water Buffalo!”
Three-fifths of the table immediately burst into raucous laughter, leaving Twilight fidgeting uncomfortably with a weak smile to pretend she’d been paying attention. Night Light seemed as lost as she was, the same uncertain expression on his face. Twilight doubted she’d be in the mood for laughing even if she had been listening, but the hollow laugh she gave to try and keep up appearances felt even worse than silence, somehow.
If Twilight had thought it hard to be around her father before, that was nothing compared to now. Even just the sight of him at the head of the dining table made her sick to her stomach. It would be easy to dismiss the feeling as anger at his reaction, but Twilight knew it wasn’t.
If anything, she was angry at herself. Angry for rushing when she should have waited. Angry for letting her imagination run away and drag her along with it. No, the closest she could compare that feeling to was dread. An insidious, creeping apprehension that sunk its claws into her mind and refused to let go.
She had no idea what Night Light would do now that he knew. Twilight was losing what little control she’d had on the situation in the first place, and the worst part was that so little had changed. Despite that sickening lurch each time her eyes fixed on him, the old fire still burned. Her gaze still slid down his body, all the way to his flanks until it could go no further, her heart leaping up into her throat. Her emotions pulled her in twenty different directions at once, anger and regret and heartbreak and love and lust all vying equally for her attention, and all getting her nowhere.
A part of her even drew a small, vindictive pleasure from her father’s obvious turmoil. Twilight wasn’t the only one who had to hide it anymore, and for some reason that brought a tiny sliver of comfort to her otherwise hopeless predicament. It was a bitter and hurtful feeling to add to the already over-complicated mix, she knew, but that didn’t make it any less appreciated.
And, worst of all, the rising tension between them was beginning to be noticed. Perhaps only subconsciously so far, but the previously lively conversation had already dwindled to subdued coughs and near-silence, leaving little else but those awful clinks against the china that Twilight hated so much. For the first time since the night before, her father looked directly at her. He’d picked up on it too, his gaze simultaneously accusing and pleading. This is your fault, it said. Help, it said.
Twilight could only turn away, down at her untouched breakfast.
“So, uh…” Shining began, trying to clear the air and failing miserably. “Cadance and I were thinking of heading into the old town nearby. The train goes straight there, if anyone wants to come with us?”
His question was met with a resounding silence, leaving Shining tapping the tabletop awkwardly as it dragged on.
“Guess not,” he said, eventually. “Well, you know where we’ll be, at least. See you all later.”
And with a scrape of chairs they were gone. Velvet followed soon after, but if she said anything Twilight didn’t hear it, so lost in her own tumbling thoughts. She’d barely heard Shining. Night Light was a different matter entirely, his words immediately jolting her back to reality.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and even just the sound of his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
“You keep saying that.”
“I know.” He sighed heavily. “It doesn’t feel any better to me each time, either.”
A long silence. Twilight almost wished for the clinking again, just so there’d be something to fill it.
“I shouldn’t have left you last night,” he said eventually. “I… I panicked.”
Twilight said nothing, biting her lip as Night Light watched her carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. She just kept staring at her uneaten food, maintaining as blank an expression as she could.
“Twilight, please, can you at least look at me?”
No.
Another long pause.
“Come on Twilight, you’re not a foal anymore. You can’t just be silent and hope this goes away.”
And now Twilight did look up, fixing Night Light with a fiery glare. “Isn’t that what you did?”
Her father winced. “That’s not fair.”
“It sounds fair to me.”
“You’re upset, I understand that, but getting angry at me isn’t going to help.”
“Then what is?”
“I don’t know,” Night Light admitted. “Shit, Twilight, I don’t know. I don’t even know if anything can, but we have to try, right?”
Twilight said nothing.
After watching for any hint of emotion, her father sunk back into his chair with a long exhale. “I didn’t sleep last night,” he said, and Twilight thought it was more to himself than to her. “I had to lie beside Velvet, and all I could think about was the way you looked at me. The way you talked, the… Everything. And knowing that I did that to you. Damn it, Twilight, I can’t do this.” His voice was beginning to crack. “You probably don’t realise, but I never went back to… that place. I couldn’t.”
Oh, Twilight knew alright. She knew because she had, countless times, all in the hopes of meeting him again, of having him again. At her lowest the hoofcuffs clicked around her every single night, and yet no stallion had ever even come close to him. No stallion had been him, and once Twilight resigned herself to that fact she’d stopped going entirely. That was over a month ago, now.
“The kicker is,” Night Light continued, slowly now as if each word had to be dragged out of his mouth, “I never went back because I couldn’t help seeing the mares there as somebody’s daughter.”
Twilight stared at him, dumbfounded, the angry sheen draining out of her eyes.
“How could I justify it, with a daughter of my own?” he continued. “Even before you… Even when I didn’t know, that thought haunted me, Twi.”
He’d never called her Twi before. Only ever kiddo, or Twilight.
“It wasn’t that I actually thought you’d be there. Never in a million years. But those mares all had fathers of their own, and to degrade themselves like that… Why, Twilight? Why were you there?”
Twilight swallowed. Her father was looking at her with pure desperation, seeking some rational answer other than the truth; Twilight had gone there because the thought of lowering herself like that sent a warm flush through her even now, made her have to clench her legs a little tighter together beneath the table, remembering the chill touch of the hoofcuffs as Night Light mounted her, claiming her as his own. She couldn’t tell him that – it would break him even more. But Twilight couldn’t lie either. He’d see right through it, and so instead she tried to deflect the question.
“I could ask you the same thing,” she said, and immediately Twilight knew it was the right response.
Night Light froze, before slumping back into his chair in resignation. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway. The damage is already done.”
For a long time neither of them said anything, both staring down at the table in front of them, tracing the dark veins which swirled through the wood. Night Light cleared his throat.
“Twilight, did you mean it?” His eyes were shimmering now.
“Mean what?”
“You said you weren’t sorry it happened. I just keep hearing you say that, over and over, and all I can think is that you only said it so I don’t blame myself even more. That’s the only thing that makes sense. I have to know, Twi, did you mean it?”
“Yes,” she murmured, just loud enough, and she could hear the choked breath catch in his throat. “I still do.”
Another silence.
“Are you okay?” Twilight ventured, after a time.
Night Light laughed bitterly. “That’s a hell of a question, Twilight, and I don’t think I’m ready to answer it right now. Before we talk about this I think we both need time. It can’t end the way it did last night.”
The ache in Twilight’s chest stabbed deeper. Night Light dropped his head into his hooves.
He looked so pitiful, sitting alone at the end of the enormous table. So crushed. A wreck of a pony holding on by the barest thread. As Twilight looked over her father, really looking for the first time that morning, she saw the dark crescents under his eyes, the deep lines creasing his forehead.
He didn’t hear her approach, flinching when she first wrapped her forelegs around him. When he opened his mouth to speak Twilight shushed him. He wasn’t ready to talk – he’d said so himself – and so instead Night Light let his daughter hold his head to her chest, closing his eyes as he sank into Twilight’s embrace.
And of course her mind strayed, here with his body so close to hers. Of course she remembered fragments she’d tried to push down and bury, but Twilight didn’t let them surface for long. It was the last thing her father needed to be reminded of right now, even though Twilight’s traitorous heart leapt at the hot touch of his skin against hers.
She knew they’d never mention this again, this moment, the first time her father had ever shown his vulnerability. This time was for now and now alone. This moment was theirs to forget.
Twilight would even pretend she’d never felt his tears, warm and wet against her fur.
***
Click. Click. Click. Click.
Four cuffs, one for every hoof. The sound alone used to make Twilight shudder, but not anymore. Her tail flicked as the attendant passed, but from nervousness, not arousal. Oh, it was still there, a faint tremble beneath her skin, but it was almost nothing.
She shivered in her cuffs. Had the room always been this cold? Twilight thought not, and she wasn’t sure it was all that cold now. It just felt like it.
She stiffened at the metallic screech of the opening and shutting door as the attendant left her very much alone, barely able to move. This was her last try.
She’d been patient, oh so patient, but, as the weeks turned to months, Twilight’s faith in her father’s return had dwindled to almost nothing. If faith alone had been driving her she would have stopped long ago anyway. No, what kept her going back was the heat that filled her each time she remembered his touch on her flank, a warmth that sank through her body all the way to her nethers. The burst of excitement every time she remembered his words, both the coarse and
I’ll come here again
the promise.
The promise most of all.
Minutes ticked by, and Twilight waited. This really was the last time, she told herself, as she had done countless times before. If he didn’t come tonight, then he never would. And, despite everything, when the door squealed open again a flutter of anticipation rose in her chest. Two pairs of hoofsteps now, advancing towards her. The attendant placed the stallion’s hoof on Twilight’s rump, where it immediately began rolling over her skin, and then he quickly vacated, leaving them to their own devices with a final screech from the door.
Immediately a second hoof joined the first, the stallion squeezing and groping her flank, and the cold realisation that Twilight was about to be disappointed once again set in. This wasn’t her father. This stallion was too rough, too uncaring, the grasping hooves entirely for his own benefit. In the past that would have turned her on to no end, being little more than the stallion’s plaything for however long he saw fit. But now? Now she just wanted to get him over with.
The stallion wasted no time in mounting her, and for the first time Twilight realised quite how huge he was. Not just down there (although the heavy warmth resting on her ass suggested he wasn’t lacking in that regard either); the stallion was so big he barely touched her back as he stood over her. And then he pushed her down with his weight anyway, asserting his dominance.
Yes, thought Twilight, rolling her eyes behind the blindfold. You’re SO impressive.
His musk filled Twilight’s senses; the thick scent of aroused male. It made her head spin a little as the stallion pressed against her entrance, sliding up and down her folds. Twilight was far from over-excited, but she could still feel his length dampening as he teased her.
He didn’t wait long before growing tired of his game, grasping her flanks authoritatively as he pulled back to get the right angle. And when he pushed into her all pretence of teasing disappeared, thrusting roughly to the hilt with barely any hesitation. It didn’t hurt, at least, but the stallion clearly had no concern about building her up to it. He just wanted something willing to fuck.
And fuck he did, with only a couple of slow strokes back and forth to warm up before plowing himself into her, his hips slapping loudly and lewdly against her flank with sharp smacking sounds each time. She moaned behind her gag, not out of passion but in the hopes it would get him to finish quicker. Maybe it did.
The stallion didn’t last long. The ones that skipped foreplay rarely did. They were so concerned with themselves that actually trying to last was beyond them, and they barely ever gave a damn about the mare. This one certainly didn’t, a harsh grunt Twilight’s only warning before the stallion gave a final, errant thrust and his warmth began filling her, his length twitching inside as he came.
She trembled as he did so. Even without any hint of climax, his satisfaction still sent slight ripples of pleasure through her body. The initial attraction this place had brought never fully left, after all. Most of it had just been redirected to something – someone – else, and tonight she’d been left wanting once more.
The stallion pulled out with a satisfied groan, his shaft already softening. He didn’t say anything as he kicked the floor three times – his signal to leave – and Twilight didn’t expect him to. He was done with her now, and she reminded herself that this was the last disappointment she’d let herself go through. This wasn’t worth it.
She repeated those words to herself as the door screeched open. This is not worth it.
And despite her best intentions, she returned to the room seven more times before abandoning hope entirely.
***
Twilight watched rain course down the window, crashing against it in a torrent of white noise. With every howl of the wind the glass rattled dangerously in its frame, threatening to break free from its trappings to shatter over the floor.
Three days. That was how long Night Light had avoided her for, how long every meal was spent dodging eye contact, how long her father did his best to talk to her only when absolutely necessary, and only with other family present. If ever there was even the slightest chance of being alone with her, Night Light would find some reason to be anywhere else. Twilight didn’t argue when he made his excuses. What would have been the point? Instead she’d just shrugged and let him go. They both knew he was lying.
From a distance she’d watched as the rings under his eyes grew darker from lack of sleep, as he began to retreat into himself, as she had done at first, too. Twilight remembered staying up until sunrise, etching the same words on parchment over and over in the hopes she might start to believe them if she wrote them down enough times. It was wrong, it was wrong, it was wrong. And yet, when she burned the page so Spike never saw it, she’d relished the sight of the flames turning the words to ash.
That didn’t make watching her father fall apart any easier. Twilight had to believe he’d talk to her soon, that he couldn’t keep letting it eat away at him like this, but as the days passed the chance had seemed more and more bleak. Until this morning. This morning when her father came to the table his previously blank eyes had been replaced by a hard sheen, and after breakfast he’d given her a look. The one she’d been waiting for. The one that said he was ready.
And so Twilight had gone back to the drawing room where they’d shared that first night here, and the other night she’d tried to push out of her mind. She settled herself in one of the armchairs, curling up to watch the rain. She hadn’t had to ask where to meet him; this was the one and only place she’d even considered.
And Twilight waited.
She waited until her legs grew stiff beneath her, until the sound of the ceaseless rain had been reduced to nothing in her ears, and the already sparse light that made it into the room had just begun to darken. Twilight didn’t mind. She’d already waited three days, what was a few more hours? She could wait that long. For him.
“Hey, kiddo.”
Her breath caught. She didn’t turn round, some small part of her afraid that if she acknowledged him he’d turn tail and flee, deciding he wasn’t ready after all, and never would be. But then he rested his hoof on her shoulder.
“Twilight?”
“Hi Dad,” she breathed.
He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving her side and settling himself in the chair across from her.
“I don’t really know where to start,” he said. “But I do know we can’t keep going like this.”
Twilight nodded, neglecting to mention how long she’d already held this secret for.
“I think first I need to explain myself,” Night Light began, shifting uncomfortably. “You need to know why I was there. Why I needed… that.” He sighed. “You’ve probably guessed by now, but things between me and your mother aren’t exactly perfect. We both made mistakes, and that was mine. In fact, this holiday was meant to help bring us back together, with all our family here to see what we’d missed. Things don’t ever seem to work out to plan, do they?” Her father laughed bitterly. “I knew that was going to come back to bite me, but to think…”
He edged his chair a little closer to Twilight’s, placing his hooves on her legs.
“Twilight, if I could possibly had known, if I’d even had the slightest doubt… I’m so, so sorry.”
“You should be,” she said, dully.
He nodded in resignation. “And after the other night… Damn it, kiddo, I don’t know what got you like that, but it’s… it’s all my fault. If you could- If even part of you thinks you could forgive me, that’s more than I deserve.”
Twilight shook her head. “I don’t forgive you,” she said, and her father made a small, choked sound. She wasn’t finished. “You never came back.”
“I… what?”
“You told me you would,” she said, tears beginning to sting her eyes. “Before you left, you told me. I’ll come here again. You said that.”
“Twilight, I-”
“And you never did!” Twilight’s anguished shout startled even her. “It was never you, no matter how many times I went back there, no matter how many stallions I let…” She was fighting back sobs now. “You lied.”
Night Light sat reeling in stunned silence. Finally he found words. “I never meant to-”
“You lied!” Twilight saw the helplessness in her father’s face, and she didn’t care. “You lied! You lied! You lied!” She kept repeating that, over and over as Night Light did the only thing he could and wrapped her in his hooves, his embrace doing nothing to stop her outburst. She started hitting his chest, not even truly in protest but because she couldn’t think of anything else to do. Her father made no effort to stop her, cradling Twilight against him as she cried. She hated him, she loved him, she wanted him, and Twilight wished she could hold onto all three emotions at once, even as they tore her apart.
He held her until her tears ran out, until all that was left was drying on her cheeks and against his fur. And when she next spoke her voice was hollow and useless. “I needed you.”
“Twilight…” he began, but it was a sentence with no end.
“The other night,” she said, trembling as she came to terms with her father’s closeness now that the tears had gone, “I didn’t think you were going to stop me. I didn’t want you to.”
He said nothing, though Twilight thought maybe his hooves held her a little tighter.
She pushed a little more. “I don’t think you wanted to stop me either.”
Now Night Light shifted as if to push her away, like he’d done last time. Twilight held his hooves firm, looking up into his eyes, so close to him.
“Damn it, Twi, don’t…” He trailed off.
“Say it,” she said, the words like broken glass. “Say it.”
“You’re my daughter,” he whispered. “My Twilight. We can’t.”
“But you always say it that way,” Twilight insisted. “Always you can’t, we can’t. You never say you don’t want to.”
She could feel his heart beating against hers, feel it quicken when she spoke.
“It’s wrong, Twilight,” he muttered, his hot breath running over her neck. “It’s so, so wrong.” But he didn’t try and push her off him again.
“I don’t care.”
And, as her father held her in her hooves, Twilight placed a kiss gently on the bridge of his muzzle. If she’d thought he’d been tense before, it was nothing compared to the way he froze after that, every part of him becoming like a statue around her. It was just a kiss, the same kind they’d shared countless times before as father and daughter, but of course this time it meant so much more. He looked up at her, eyes wide and unbelieving, and she waited for the inevitable push away.
It never came.
They sat there in silence, a thousand words spiralling through the air but never leaving them, and Twilight took her chance. Trembling, she moved her head down, down, until their lips met. It was little more than a long, gentle touch, barely resting against each other, but it was enough. It was more than enough.
No longer a kiss any daughter should give their father, no longer a little peck on the cheek or the forehead. This was a real, true kiss, and the surrounding air electrified and made all Twilight’s fur stand on end. When she pulled away she was out of breath, and she hadn’t even realised she’d been holding it.
She kissed him again, for longer this time, holding herself as tightly to him as she could. She wouldn’t let him go this time, never again. She had him now, holding him so close as she began to gently press herself down into his lap, unable to stop her hips from rocking back and forth slightly in clear anticipation.
Words were beyond her now, but that didn’t matter. Night Light was holding her in his hooves and that was all that mattered, and she kissed him once more, stealing his breath away. Like the last time they’d been here, she felt him start to stiffen beneath her, felt that hardness pressing into her and sending a warm rush of vindication through her body.
Twilight steeled herself for another rejection, ready for her father to shrug her off, send her sprawling onto the floor again. She knew it was coming, but even as she waited for it she couldn’t resist pressing his growing length between their bodies, feeling its intense heat against the soft fur of her chest. Even if this was to be the last time, she’d take what she could.
The push never came. Instead her father let her keep on teasing, her bucking motions making him gasp at each brush of her fur against him. Shaking, she reached a hoof down, brushing past the side of his stallionhood. Still the push didn’t come, and, emboldened, Twilight took him in both forehooves, beginning to play over it as she thrust herself against him. She was soaked already, and she could feel her own excitement plastering his tail to the chair beneath them. Twilight was sure to be gentle with her touch, though, oh so gentle. Nothing more than teasing so he would be more than ready for her, carefully angling her head down so when she panted out each desperate breath the hot air would roll down his front and over his twitching length.
Now the scent of his arousal hit her, strong and musky. Familiar. It was more than enough to shatter the faint vestiges of Twilight’s restraint, and she began to lift herself up, pressing her marehood up against his length as she did so, biting her lip as memories of hoofcuffs and
fuck this mare sure is tight
blindfolds filled her thoughts. He had been so close to her all this time, but now he was finally hers.
One last look down at her father, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, was enough. And then she was lowering herself onto him, his length easily parting her folds and filling her, Twilight whimpering as she took him in. Everything that had eluded her since that night all those months ago came rushing back; her father – the stallion that had cared for her, looked after her, picked her up when she fell down – was sliding into her and grunting with primal satisfaction, the sound making Twilight tighten around him even more.
Oh Celestia she finally had him right here in her hooves, she finally had him and he was so warm, every part of him blazing like a furnace, and the white noise of the rain had faded to almost nothing against the heavy thump of his heart that Twilight could feel through her own chest, pressed tightly against him.
And this time he knew.
This time he knew all too well that the mare stifling her moans against his fur as she ever so slowly dropped onto him was his little filly, the one who wanted – needed – him so badly that even just having him inside her was enough to nearly push her over the edge right then and there.
This time there were no blindfolds. No secrets. There was only him, and the wonderful sensation as she pushed him ever deeper, shuddering and shaking with every inch.
Finally she could go no further. Twilight took a moment to allow her spinning mind to settle, even though all she wanted was to start rutting Night Light so hard the chair would break. After months of fitful nights spent fantasising, toying with herself in the vain hope it would alleviate even some of her desire, Twilight wouldn’t let herself rush this.
No matter how much she wanted to.
Instead she savoured every moment as she so so slowly began to lift herself up again, even just the tiniest amount sending sparks crackling through her skin, his length pressing against her. Unable to stop herself, Twilight bit down on his shoulder in an attempt to both quiet her lustful moans and to give her some way to resist the tremors that rattled her to the core.
And then, just before coming off of him entirely and already feeling so terribly empty without him, she dropped back down, delighting in the way he twitched inside her as she enveloped him once again.
Even with his eyes closed her father’s excitement was obvious, his breathing coming in sharp hisses through clenched teeth, his grip tightening on the chair’s arms until they creaked. With each of Twilight’s muffled exultations into his neck she could feel him melt a little further into his seat, another twitch inside her. It only made her want to be even louder.
And she had no difficulty with that, she found, as at last she began to take all he offered, rolling her hips against his. It was still slow, still drawing out every moment she could, but Twilight wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold herself back.
He was forgiven. All the sleepless nights, all the unwanted, pathetic stallions. Even his rejection, casting her aside without even seeming to care when her heart shattered. Everything forgiven now, for this. For the trembling wreck he could reduce her to within moments, making her cling desperately to him because it was the only way Twilight could keep even the tiniest grasp on reality against the waves that crashed over her. He was her father, and she was taking him for her own here in this lonely house as the rain hammered against the windows. It couldn’t reach them, but Twilight was sure that if it could it would have turned to steam the second it touched their skin.
And now Twilight let herself speed up, let her hips start to thrust against him rather than her previous gentle motions, feeling him press so deeply into her as she shivered atop him, burying her head into his neck again and decorating it with nips and kisses. Oh Celestia, he was right, this was wrong, this was so so wrong but Twilight didn’t care as long as he could make her feel like this, as long as she could feel so alive in his hooves, every nerve in her body tingling and bringing her climax ever closer.
Twilight let it come, let every slight movement send those sparks through her, let every facet of her father’s features burn into her memory; his eyes tightly closed, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed red. There was so much she hadn’t been able to appreciate with the blindfold – how his muscles tensed under his skin, the look of his mane plastered against his forehead, even just the slightest movements at the corners of his mouth each time she sank down onto him – but now she could take all of him in in stark detail, as jolts of pleasure shuddered through her.
She tried to speak, but all Twilight could manage was a wavering “Haaa…” sound as her thoughts melted together and words became too difficult to focus on. She wasn’t even sure what she’d wanted to say, probably some kind of encouragement or whispered affirmation of her delight that stallions always loved so much. Even her half-moan, half-sigh had a dramatic effect, Night Light twitching inside her and the chair creaking again beneath them as she dug his hooves into the arms once more.
And it wasn’t as though she needed words to show her eagerness, soaking wet and moaning lustfully, tightening around him as much as she could each and every time she took him in. The previous tingles and jolts of pleasure had become so much more intense, each lasting longer and longer as she grew oh so close, and Twilight was more than ready for it. Closer and closer, and now she was rutting him as hard as she could, and it still wasn’t enough, still she wanted more.
And, moments before her frenzied motions pushed her over the edge, Night Light spoke. A single, whispered word that still seemed to echo through the whole room. “Twilight…”
The world exploded, Twilight dropping for the last time at the mention of her name and crying out in one final, unbridled shout of bliss. She was wrapped so tightly around her father, clutching him as she shuddered against his chest, gasping and arching her back as her climax consumed every part of her in its fire, fur standing on end as her mind blanked. Through the haze she felt his length pulse inside her, and then her father’s hooves were pulling her down as he gave one last gasp, shaking beneath Twilight as his warmth filled her so utterly, her already broken thoughts plummeting once again into a mess of lust and pure satisfaction. Again and again he shot into her, and again and again that electric rush blasted through Twilight’s entire body, Night Light’s hooves clutching her tightly against him, his touch the only thing that let her keep even the slightest grasp on reality as everything else was cast aside.
My daughter. My Twilight.
When Twilight finally came down from the impossible height he had brought her to she could do nothing more than lie against him, out of breath, listening to the rain against the windows. It had quieted some, becoming a gentle, continuous pattering sound that soothed her still frantically beating heart. She could feel her father’s through her chest, too, though it had already slowed to a much calmer pace, a steady thump that reassured her in a way Twilight would never be able to explain.
She snuggled closer to him, the only movement Twilight was capable of right now, and for a moment Night Light froze. And then she felt the touch of his hooves on her back as he hugged her. A burst of happiness flooded her chest, and, even if it was just for a little while, Twilight let it fill her, sighing contentedly against him.
The unease would come later, though – a deep sinking feeling that bit into her stomach and refused to let go. She would try and shake it off, not understanding at first, but it would gnaw and gnaw until finally Twilight realised what was wrong. What she had entirely failed to notice, caught up in the moment.
Through it all, Night Light hadn’t even looked at her once.