Torn Fabric

by Storm butt


Stitch

The smell of Prince Blueblood’s neck gave a pleasant aroma of nightlife fun and romantic, lustful thoughts to Fancy Pants. Of course these abnormal thoughts were more than likely fueled entirely by his decision to stay firmly at borderline drunk and very tipsy as the two ponies rode along the streets of Canterlot. A wine bottle was in his magical grasp hovering in front of the two that Blueblood insisted every time he took a drink was a horrible decision that made them look like bums who might as well beg on the street.

“You smell of posies,” Fancy Pants giggled. He had cornered Blueblood against the side of the carriage, pushing his body against the prince’s so that Blueblood was forced to sit there and endure the intense cuddling and neck prodding with a ticklish, mustached upper lip that Fancy possessed. If the older unicorn was in a much sounder state of mind he might have resisted the urge to unbutton the top three buttons of both his and Blueblood’s dress shirts until they had at least gotten inside of his home, but right now Blueblood smelled far too… intoxicating. He wanted a taste.

“GAH!” Blueblood shouted.

“What?” Fancy inquired, as if he hadn’t just stuck out his tongue and licked the underside of Blueblood’s chin.

“D-Did you really just lick me?” Blueblood sputtered out a shocked half-giggle half-irritated cry before shoving his leg against Fancy Pants’ body in a failed attempt to get his new conjoined partner to remove his body. “That’s unsavory! N-Not to mention probably very unhygienic. Honestly how you managed to remain atop the totem pole of social class I haven’t the faintest idea!”

“You shout a lot,” Fancy Pants giggled. Again, he was in a state of mind where he was making irrational decisions. If Blueblood was willing to drink more he might have not tried to hide the way he was blushing at the kiss he received on his neck and wouldn’t have tried to sheepishly suppress his giggle. “I behaved myself at dinner. Would it be far too corny to make a joke about you being my desert?”

“You made several remarks about taking that ‘Big hunk of a meal to go’ home. I hardly call that behaving.” Blueblood grumbled and managed to calm down Fancy’s teasing hooves by actually holding him back and letting the stallion put most of his weight on him in a gentle, calm cuddle. “Of course I did respond with… what was it? Oh dear I might have been blushing too much to recall…”

“You said if I called you a hunk again feel free to give me the scraps of the table next to us,” Fancy giggled. “Much better than blushing and keeping silent, don’t you agree?”

“Shut up,” Blueblood grumbled and held Fancy just a bit tighter. The wind of the carriage whipped through their hair as Blueblood quietly grumbled about social class and rubbing his hoof up and down Fancy’s back and mane. He kissed Fancy right at the base of his horn and actually gave a chuckle when Fancy giggled.

Had it been any other night Fancy Pants might have contained himself more. He needed more than anything on tonight of all nights for Blueblood to feel loved. He had said it at least two dozen times and counting. When he feared he was coming on far too strong he took a sip of wine and fought away whatever crept in the back of his mind telling him he was being too uncouth. He kissed Blueblood more in public, holding his face in both hooves and whispering cheesy poetic words of affection that even he found hard to take seriously without cracking up in a fit of giggles that Blueblood found difficult not to join in. Even now, in the safety of the carriage as they bumped along through the night and stared up at the stars Fancy pants found his hoof rubbing in circles along Blueblood’s fluffy chest.

“You smell like cheap wine,” Blueblood muttered, though buried his face into Fancy’s mane and breathed in deeply. When Fancy tried to unbutton a fifth hoof from Blueblood’s shirt Blueblood instinctively grabbed Fancy’s hoof, but didn’t pull it away. He held it there momentarily and squeezed, but after a moment of hesitation he allowed Fancy to continue.

“Tell me you had fun,” Fancy said in a quiet, gentle kind of a tone that he wasn’t positive he had spoken in during the run of the night. He looked away from Blueblood for perhaps the first time in quite a while and stared at the trees and buildings pass by as the carriage road along the cobblestone path.

“I did,” Blueblood replied.

“Good,” Fancy chuckled.

He suddenly felt Blueblood squeeze him tighter. His hot breath fell from his mouth and warmed Fancy in what the otherwise chilly air blowing through his mane cooled him. It wasn’t his usual kind of a hug. Blueblood’s hugs felt desperate in a way that surprisingly rarely tired Fancy Pants out. Blueblood usually above all else seemed to attempt to leech comfort from Fancy through his hugs, but this one felt different. It didn’t feel desperate and tight, it felt soft and warm, as though it were meant for Fancy alone.

“Did… Did you?” Blueblood mumbled into his ear, and then gave it a gentle kiss. He rubbed his hooves up and down Fancy’s back. “Have fun, I mean?”

Fancy pulled himself from Blueblood’s hug and looked him briefly in the eye. Blueblood looked away momentarily, but after a moment where he squeezed his eyes he forced himself to look Fancy Pants in the eye once more as steadily as he could manage. He swallowed and he wasn’t sure why. Blueblood somehow looked taller in this moment. Steadier might have perhaps been the better word to use.

“Of course, Sweetheart,” He answered truthfully. He touched Blueblood’s chest, and then thought that might have been the wrong course of action when Blueblood’s lips gave a slight frown. He moved it from the chest to Blueblood’s own hoof and squeezed it tightly, and that seemed to satisfy the prince more.

“Okay,” Blueblood answered and twined his upper leg around Fancy’s own. “If I act sappy tonight please don’t hold it over my head… Alright? It’s… unbecoming and over emotional, I know. I was just thinking how… How I was actually happy despite how I felt this morning… I’m still not sure how you managed to turn that all around by yourself.”

Fancy thought for a moment that the prince might have gone in for a kiss or look away and blush or do anything that his usual self might have done when a confession like that was given. But he hugged Fancy again and actually used his strength to drag the pony forward a few inches and pull him up further into the hug. He buried his muzzle into Fancy’s neck and kissed it once, twice, three times. He squeezed tighter on Fancy’s body and the older unicorn couldn’t do anything but find himself hugging back.

“Thank you,” Blueblood whispered.

Fancy Pants let Blueblood cling to him in that hug for as long as he needed. And as it turned out, it was just about until their carriage ride had ended. The wind had stopped blowing through their manes and the once romantic and lustful setting suddenly felt much closer to tender and loving. He wanted to say something comforting or even joking to lighten the mood, but he feared that it might strike a blow to the prince if he did anything but hold onto him. He didn’t cry or laugh or do much of anything but breathe in and out and keep the unicorn close.

Blueblood released him silently when the carriage stopped in front of Fancy Pants’ house. He might have actually been content with that if Fancy didn’t take his face in both hands and give him a kiss to which Fancy took the upper hand.

“I’ll be waiting inside,” Blueblood whispered in a way that seemed far too inviting the moment they parted. He slipped out of the carriage slowly and walked before Fancy had even gathered his own jacket. Fancy was unable to catch up to him before he was at the door and searching for his own personal key, which Fancy had granted him many months prior. The older unicorn was stuck paying the carriage stallion and looking over his shoulder absent mindedly at the prince.

He paid a tip to the driver that was probably far too generous, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thanked, but he didn’t think to reply before turning away. He stood there silently watching the closed door to his own home and heard the carriage roll away before walking along the cobblestone path to the front.

When Fancy cracked open the door he saw that Blueblood had in fact turned on no lights when he had entered, and it was difficult to see. He saw a single light at the end of the opening hallway right before the opening to the stairwell where the kitchen lay, and followed it. He set down the bottle of wine on one of the lamp tables he passed and continued forward until he saw Blueblood standing in the kitchen with a half untied red bow-tie around his neck.

“You like to watch me undress, right?” Blueblood chuckled in a sort of teasing kind of a way in a tone that Fancy had rarely, if ever heard come from him. He actually waggled his rump a little as well as his tail in a manner that was unbefitting of his usual self.

“I like to undress you, actually,” Fancy answered as he drew himself forward and undid his own bow-tie slowly. “I take it you’re not much in the mood for foreplay tonight, no? You’re acting more… frisky than usual.”

“I-I wanna do something crazy with you,” Blueblood answered in a moment of blind excitement in a tone that seemed genuinely happy if a bit nervous to admit it. “Shining told me it’s fun to be forward sometimes… Can we please just move it along before you tease me.”

“I wouldn’t tease you about that” Fancy tried insisting just as he raised his hoof and pulled on Blueblood’s dress shirt.

“You are so blatantly lying it’s almost killed the mood,” Blueblood seemed liked he wanted to growl, but now he had sparked Fancy’s interest and given him the upper hand in the scenario.

In one swift instant Fancy Pants called upon the magic in his horn and drew every curtain of every window in the kitchen and also, in something he might call adventurous, shoved off everything from the kitchen table including the tablecloth in order to make it a flat surface.

“Oh you are far too old for passionate teenage ridden uncomfortable sex on a table,” Blueblood groaned through his sudden laughter as Fancy Pants wiggled his eyebrows and jumped up onto the table to sit on his rump. “That’s both far below you when you have a bed worth as much as a commoner’s home in the next room.”

“Oh just call me a dirty old man once you’re up here and kissing me, you stubborn prince.” Fancy Pants smirked and reached out his hoof. “My belly’s so big you won’t even have to touch the filthy table, if it makes you feel better.”

“Is that suppose to entice me? You’re more disgusting than the table, your know. Germy, too.” Blueblood once again tried to hide the glimmer of excitement in his eye when he took Fancy’s hoof.

The night was long and full of far too many giggles and quiet, suppressed sounds in their moment of passionate decisions. When Blueblood tried to complain about his clothing being tossed carelessly on the floor Fancy kissed him, and when Fancy tried to tease Blueblood about a certain sound he made he got a kiss to shut him up in return. There was quite a bit of poking and prodding and childish language thrown around in the middle of their fun. At least twice everything grinded to a halt when the table grew too loud and Blueblood refused to end up with certain injured to explain based on their positions.

How they ended up anywhere apart for even a moment that night seemed to slip Fancy’s mind. He barely had time to clean up before even the thought of Blueblood entered his mind again and he chased the prince to the shower. It made him feel young in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He was positive he managed to blush more than Blueblood had when he revealed that yes, he could very willingly go for a third round.

Fancy Pants spent much of the night holding Blueblood close to him. He was positive that sleep would never find him, that Blueblood’s aroma would be too intoxicating and give him a buzz stronger than any drink ever could. Even when he had exhausted himself and was finally unwilling to continue their fun any longer he was unable to keep from staying close to the stallion.

He felt very young indeed, so young that he chastised himself silently in the night for having such puppy-like affection for the prince continue even now. It reminded him far too much of his first love to a mare he could hardly remember the name too back in school. How he claimed he would die for her, and how she claimed the same for him. Something along those lines sparked in this night with the prince that he couldn’t quite explain.

Fancy however did sleep eventually. It was soundless and dreamless and long, and he awoke only once momentarily when lips pressed to his own and the bed suddenly felt much colder as well as larger. His head was heavy and thick, like wading through molasses, but not hung over. It took him three tries all within the span of a single hour to gather the will to roll out of bed and abandon the pillow which he had named Prince Blueblood’s cuddling replacement that rested between his upper legs.

He was sore. Unbelievably sore. Normally his time alone with Blueblood he wouldn’t consider a work out, but similar to genuine love making, as cheesy as it may sound. But the night before felt animalistic. Passionate, yes, but primal in urges.

Fancy Pants resisted the urge to groan when he rolled out of bed and heard the sound of sizzling from the kitchen. The room was light, which told him that it was late in the day. It also told him that his sleep schedule was now beyond a doubt ruined. He walked from his room to the kitchen and saw Prince Blueblood with a much more well rested expression than Fancy was positive he himself had and a cup of tea in his hooves. The prince had not only taken all of the clothing of the two that had been scattered about the messy kitchen, but had actually folded and separated it as well as all the papers that had been tossed.

“Are you wearing my robe?” Fancy Pants asked and raised his brow. Blueblood looked to him and pulled at the sleeve of the velvet red robe that clung to his body. He looked like some of the red had crept onto his own face in a flush when asked that question.

“It looked comfy.” Blueblood responded and sipped from his tea. Behind him eggs sizzled in a pan and hay bacon strips right alongside them gave off an aroma of pleasure when they hit his nose.

“You look adorable in it,” Fancy teased and drew closer to the prince before resting a hoof on his shoulder and going behind the chair. “You positive it’s sanitary to eat on this table? I seem to recall one of us sweating an awful lot and the other making a mess.”

“Yeah,” Blueblood snorted in a high-brow kind of a manner as if to suggest he was above such bodily functions. “You, because you’re so tubby and get winded from five minutes of going at it.”

“Best five minutes of your evening,” Fancy Pants whispered tauntingly into Blueblood’s ear and assured that his breath ran down the prince’s cheek. He kissed the prince right at the base of his horn and patted him on the chest. “If you burn my eggs I’ll know you got embarrassed by that.”

He let the teasing words hit Blueblood before pulling away and looking over his shoulder to watch him blush. He left the kitchen and winked at the pony before doing so. He trotted down the hall with a bit of a spring in his step and a hum in his tune before trotting to the end of the hallway at the front door. He found a pile of his own mail slipped through the slot in the doorway and picked it up piece by piece with his magic.

Fancy Pants was in the middle of humming some overly sappy love song he heard once at a bar when he was browsing through his usual junk mail. He chuckled when he got an ad for his own design of a dress and read through a few pointless bills that he made a mental note to check of later.

But then something caught his eye. It was right on the bottom of the pile as though it had been slipped in first. It was a large, light purple envelope. It clashed against the sea of white letters and stood out to him quickly, as if begging for him to take a look. He set every other letter down on a nearby table piece by piece before grabbing the letter in his own hooves.

Before he could even read the address he caught a whiff of something. It was something near indescribable and something that caught his attention far more than anything else had. Not even Blueblood’s own scent had made him freeze in such a way. It was almost nostalgic and youthful in a sense. A mixture of cheap but pleasant smelling perfume and old, dusty books from a library. The smell was so brief and gone even quicker that he had almost bought that he imagined it.

He felt… a memory stir within.

He turned the letter over in his hooves and saw a single name that made something clench within him.

Lacy Stitch, of Manehatton Fabric Emporium

Fancy felt his mouth open as though he wished to say something, but then he closed it in a moment’s notice. He looked over his shoulder as if to assure that Prince Blueblood hadn’t come to check on him. He then looked back to the letter. It felt thin, as though it contained nothing but a single paper.

Something about the atmosphere which just a moment prior had felt whimsical and even a bit childish to think on now turned bleak. He tore the letter slowly and gingerly, as if afraid too much noise would draw attention. He felt a stab of guilt in his gut, as though he were going behind somepony’s back. Behind Blueblood’s back.

He sat down in the hallway and stared at the doorway to the kitchen as he loosened the letter from it’s envelope and bit on his tongue. His mouth tasted bitter. He unfolded the letter and then began to read it. The penmanship was neat and lacy, and gave off this bubbly, cheerful aura that was a polar opposite of what he felt swirl within him.

Dear Fancy Pants,

It’s been so long since I’ve had to write out that name by my own hoof. You were once my favorite customer when we were young, do you remember? I still have that necklace you gave me, though of course I don’t wear it. I keep it someplace safe, though, where I can look at it whenever I want and remember those days. I’m not going to ask how you are, because any pony who pays attention to fashion like you know I do can already tell how you are. I’ve had at least three old friends ask me about your new little friend, Prince Blueblood. I’ll admit I was shocked when I saw the headline, not to mention the picture itself, dear Celestia. But in a way it made me want to pick up the quill and write to you. I’m surprised you still find passion like that somewhere deep in those designer pockets of yours to have fun like that. It made me jealous in an entirely selfish kind of a way, you know. It reminds me back when we we-

Fancy crushed the letter in his hooves. Something in him snapped not by the words on the paper that were otherwise harmless, but it was as though the muscles in his arms reacted before he could think. He sat there in the hallway silently listening only to the sound of his own breathing and looking at what he had accomplished. He tried to dig deep into his pockets, as the letter had said, and find that passion and joy he had felt just minutes ago. But no, it had depleted. He bit his tongue and felt angry at both his actions and the existence of the letter himself, both feelings making him feel equally guilty.

“Fancy?” Blueblood asked. Fancy Pants felt his heart skip a beat when he turned and saw the prince in the doorway of the kitchen. He took a step forward, and Fancy crumpled the letter further. Blueblood didn’t draw back, but he did freeze in place.

“What?” Fancy snapped in a tone that he honestly couldn’t remember ever using with Blueblood. He paused, held his breath, and then tried to fix what he might have upset. “What is it…. Sweetheart?”

“Are you… What was that letter?” Blueblood started one question, and then ended with another. He had this look of worry on his face that wasn’t too dissimilar to the one he had worn early the morning before. Confusion and fear and a need of reassurance that he looked to Fancy for. “It’s not bad, is it? Nopony is hurt, are they?”

Fancy Pants twisted his lips and got to his hooves slowly. He held the paper out in front of him with his magic and simply stared at it for the next several moments. When he looked to the prince, Blueblood seemed as though he were dying to ask something but was trying his best to be patient. But behind that was a sense of nerves that he couldn’t recall ever seeing on his lover’s face when he met those blue eyes which at any other time would have made his heart feel light.

“It’s from my ex wife,” Fancy Pants answered.