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// Stinger 3: Pillow Talk 
// Story: Simple Melodies are for Fillies 
// by bahatumay 
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	One of Vinyl’s new favorite pastimes was pillow talk. Not just because of the glorious experiences that preceded it, or the fact that Octavia usually declined to put her clothes back on right away; but because she really got to communicate with Octavia. It never ceased to amaze her that the same mare could go from so wild and crazy to so calm and refined so quickly; how she could go from biting hard enough to leave angry red marks all across Vinyl’s body and demanding that Vinyl pull her hair to discussing the existence of the Lost Lunar Symphony and where it could have gone.

Today, Octavia rolled over on top and looked over Vinyl’s body again. Vinyl remembered a time when she would have tried to curl up and hide herself; but with a little time and plenty of love from Octavia, she had learned to trust her completely. Vinyl placed her hands behind her head and let Octavia scan her again, her only indication that she was aware of this privacy invasion the tiny smile on her face and the ever so subtle rocking of her hips as she tried to thrust her chest out a bit more, half to show off her assets and half as a subtle invitation.

“You know what I just realized?” Octavia said suddenly. “You don’t have any piercings or tattoos.”

Vinyl blinked. Not quite the way she'd hoped that would go.

Her breasts remained sadly unfondled as Octavia continued. “There’s nothing wrong with that, of course; but most other 'party animals' and DJs have numerous tattoos and many piercings.” She demonstratively traced her fingers down Vinyl’s left arm and across her stomach. “You don’t have any.”

Vinyl’s breathing hitched slightly as Octavia’s fingers gently pressed into her belly button before continuing their journey across her stomach. “Yeah,” she said. “They’d make me identifiable. Or make me look like a crazed fan.” She paused and grinned cheekily. “You’ve been looking at other DJs, eh?” she asked.

“In my defense, you were the one who brought me to the… ‘scene’, I believe it’s called? but you’re still the only DJ I’ll ever need.” She paused, examining Vinyl’s head, and tilted her head with a finger. “You don’t even have your ears pierced, though,” Octavia said, “but I’ve seen you wear earrings on stage.”

“I know a good temporary sticking charm,” Vinyl admitted. “I just stick them on the front of my earlobe. Holds all night through sweat and all of DJ Pon-3’s dancing.”

“If you can call it dancing,” Octavia said with a smirk. “Sometimes I think it looks like you’re having a seizure.”

“I’ll have you know DJ Pon-3 gets numerous propositions every night,” Vinyl said indignantly.

“And how many of them are from patrons who are not intoxicated?” Octavia asked.

Vinyl opened her mouth… and then closed it. “Plenty,” she finally said, but her voice cracked ever so slightly.

Octavia cracked a smile. “It’s fine,” she said, laying her head back down on Vinyl’s chest and resting her hand on her sternum. “I like your dancing, and I’m not intoxicated.”

“Thanks,” Vinyl said. Octavia’s current position left her hindquarters close to Vinyl’s right hand, and she was seized with a sudden urge to grab a handful for herself. 

But before she could work up the nerve, Octavia popped back up, realization shining in her eyes. “You’re afraid of needles,” she exclaimed, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.

“What?” Vinyl stammered. “No, I’m…”

“You are! That’s it! You’re just afraid of needles!”

“I’m not afraid of needles!” Vinyl protested. “I just… really, really, really don’t like them,” she finished lamely.

Octavia chuckled and rested her head down again.

“It’s just… things are not meant to be poking into my body, you know?” Vinyl said in a half-hearted attempt to justify herself. “It’s not natural, and I don’t like it.”

She inhaled sharply as Octavia’s fingers suddenly made a liar out of her.

“What was that you were saying?”

“I said, p- please?” Vinyl whimpered, rocking her hips slightly.

“That’s what I thought you said,” Octavia said, her grin turning predatory.