> Like Fine Wine
>  by SleeplessBrony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Like Fine Wine
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

        It’s funny, really.
        Laughable.
        She watches them walk across the other end of Ponyville’s town square.  Neither of them even glances in her direction.
        Clearly he doesn’t have a true eye for beauty, if he’s running off with…that.
        Her practiced, perfect posture sinks just a bit.
        That was uncalled for.  She looks quite charming.  There’s nothing wrong with her.
Indeed, she’s actually quite attractive.  And so young - younger than him, even…
        Stop being so deplorable.  You should be happy for him.
Her eyes linger on them.  They do look happy.  They turn down a side street and strut off together.  She almost immediately loses them in the crowd.
        She takes a few steps, her destination completely forgotten.  Her hooves clop quietly on the smooth, clean cobblestone.  The town square is bustling, even more than usual.  Throngs of ponies crowd through the busy streets.  With the new town hall and the redone shopping arcade, it almost looks like one of Canterlot’s more fashionable districts.  It certainly isn’t quite the quaint little town it used to be.
        Rarity adores it completely.  Not that she didn’t enjoy the quaint while it lasted, but…
        How could they be getting married so SOON?  I swear I had him over just a few months ago.
        She ambles aimlessly, oblivious to the hustle and bustle.  This is completely unfair, really.  He asked for her hoof, and she declined.  Who is she to object to his backup plan?
        Ha!  Backup plan.  Really?  As if he wouldn’t have dropped you in a moment for a fresh young thing like that.
        She grimaces as she walks, not seeing what’s in front of her at all.
        Well, what was I supposed to do, say yes?  Puh-lease…I’ve never heard such an oafish proposal in all my life.  “Rarity, you know we’re both getting on in years…” Ugh!
        She huffily dismisses that train of thought.  As it happens, she comes to pause in front of a display window proudly bearing her own logo.  Designs she slaved over months ago are on parade within, with prices listed in the thousands.  Her lips curl up into a smug smirk.  She had always contracted with distributors, of course, but the first time one opened a line for her in Ponyville?  
It seemed silly at first, but even she had to admit that the traffic at the Boutique was getting to be a bit much.  Now the Boutique is for only her most exclusive clients, while the hoi polloi have plenty of other places to eagerly admire her work.
She stares at her logo on the window.  A minimalist pair of eyes, and a purple curl of mane.  She’s always loved it - so simple, and yet so refined - and so damnably sexy.
A haggard mare stares back at her from the glass, smirking.  Her own smug smile disappears instantly, and the mare copies her.  The eyes are the same as in the logo, deep blue and perfectly alluring.  But around them…
Ghastly.  Just ghastly.	
She slowly shakes her head, watching her reflection do the same.  There are the slightest suggestions of wrinkles around her eyes, visible even around her glasses.  They look like grand canyons to her.
She takes brief solace in the sight of her own mane.  It’s still perfect, of course.  She dyes it as vigilantly as ever.
“Excuse me?”
Rarity turns her head to see a much younger mare smiling at her.
“Yes?” Rarity says, raising her eyebrows.  The other mare hesitates.
“Um, you’re Rarity, aren’t you?  If you don’t mind me asking,” she says.
“You are correct,” Rarity answers.
“Oh!  Of course.  Of course you are, I mean, who wouldn’t recognize you?” The mare laughs nervously, trailing off.
“Can I help you?”
“Would you…would you sign this for me?” The mare holds out a book, much wider than its slim number of pages.  Made for pictures, rather than words.  Rarity recognizes it instantly – it’s a collection of photos of her work, with design sketches and commentary.
“Ha!  An autograph?  It’s been ages since anypony asked for one of those.  I’m not that kind of famous.”
The mare blushes and looks away as Rarity grasps the book with her magic, slipping a pen out of a hidden pocket on her dress.
“I want to be a designer.  When I’m older.  You’ve always really inspired me.” She forces herself to meet Rarity’s eyes.  “And this was the last art book where you modeled your own designs.”
“Yes, well,” Rarity titters, signing the inside cover with a flourish.  “I had to make way for the fresh young faces, you know.  I suppose one can’t stay beautiful forever.”
“If anyone could, it’d be you,” the mare says, almost dreamily.  Rarity cocks an eyebrow at her.  “Uh -!  I mean, um…” 
This amuses Rarity very much.  She generously gives the young mare the gift of a sultry look, and quickly kisses the inside of the book.  Her signature is now punctuated with a picturesque smear of lipstick.
“And who should I make it out to?”
“Oh!  Uh, Silky Smooth.  My name is Silky Smooth.”
I should think so.
Rarity finishes with her pen and hands the book back.  Her fan just holds it in her hooves, staring in awe.
“Feel free to stop by the boutique sometime.  I’d love to give you a tour,” Rarity says.
“Wha -?  Really?!”
“Really.”
The mare looks like she’s floating, hugging her now-signed book to her chest.
“Gosh, thank you!” she gushes.
“It’s nothing.  Ta for now.” Rarity walks past her, just barely flicking her tail as she brushes by.  She doesn’t have to look back – she can feel the look on the girl’s face.
Ah, admirers…
Feeling worlds better, she remembers why she came out in the first place.
But there’s still plenty of time.
She wanders past more storefronts.  Out of nowhere, her hooves feel very sore, just on the edge of hurting.  There’s a new, bigger fountain in the center of the square, surrounded by hedges and picturesque benches.  She finds an empty one and daintily sits with a heavy, relieved sigh.
She rests, thinking nothing at all.  It isn’t long before she’s interrupted.
“Well, well…if it isn’t Rarity.”
She looks up to see a rather dashing stallion grinning at her.  She instantly recognizes him as one of her boy toys, but other details escape her momentarily.  He’s very attractive, in that kind of artificial, glossy, magazine-picture way.
“Good afternoon,” she says, not really with any warmth.
“I would join you, but I’ve got a thing.” He doesn’t stop grinning.  Something about his perfect teeth annoys her deeply.
Which one is he again?
She’s fairly certain he’s just one of those up and coming local celebrities.  His cutie mark is a microphone - of course, that one with the radio show.
Right, that was the joke.  He has the looks for TV, but he went radio instead.
She realizes that she can’t pull his name out of her memory, and feels awful.  She doesn’t show a bit of it.
“I was wondering if you were, hmm…’free’ tonight.  Thought maybe I could stop by the boutique.”
He grins even harder, obviously straining to keep his pecs and forelegs flexed.  His voice drips smug, reminding her of a Prince she met so long ago.  She silently scoffs.
“As a matter of fact, I am quite engaged tonight,” she lies.
“Ah.  Too bad.”
He starts to walk away, and suddenly Rarity is very much paying attention.
“I’m having a guest over.  Another stallion, as it happens.” Another lie.  She grins wickedly.  But he barely turns around.
“No problem.  Maybe you can pencil me in for some other time.” 
He barely stops for her response, just walking away with his stupid young pony toned flanks.  Rarity glares at him as he goes.
He - he can’t do that!  Whether he actually cares or not, he’s supposed to at least act a little bit jealous.  It’s just no fun otherwise!
She sighs loudly, looking around at the other benches.  Suddenly it seems like happy young couples in love occupy them all.
Jazzy Jams.  That was his name.  Ugh.
She sighs again.  She’s not actually upset.  He’s something of a bore, anyway.
It’s just no fun anymore.
She mentally strikes him off of her list.  That’s been happening quite often lately – the list has dwindled at an alarming rate.
Perhaps it’s time for something of the…other persuasion.  It’s been a while.
That young lady’s voice plays in her ear, begging for an autograph and swooning.
Mmm…
She smiles, staring off into space.  Ponyville’s clock tower interrupts her, chiming the hour.
Speaking of lovely mares.
It’s time.  She picks herself up off the bench and ambles off.



Rarity waits patiently at her usual table.  This was Horsia’s, once upon a time.  In her mind, it still is.
It’s unusually slow, for a weekend lunch.  The line out front only goes to the next building over.  A less valued customer would have been asked to wait until their whole party had arrived.  As for herself, she was more than fashionably early, but she’s been comfortably seated the whole time.
She sips an elegant glass of water and tries to let her mind settle.  It takes longer these days to get in the zone – she used to take off at a moment’s notice, planning patterns and colors and stitches in her mind.  Now she needs time to relax and come around to it.
Before she can, she notices heads turning.  They’re not turning because of her, sadly, but they are turning nonetheless.  She follows them, guessing correctly what it is.
A different kind of celebrity has just entered the restaurant.
Twilight Sparkle waits at the hostess’ stand.  The wait staff, even at this fine establishment, can’t help but gawk a little.  The customers don’t even bother trying not to.
She’s wrapped in stately robes, looking every inch the Archmage of Equestria.  Her mane is long and straight, darker and marked with thin streaks of silver.  Like shooting stars.  She looks around with a faint, wise smile, still not sure how to deal with the public’s attention.
Rarity smirks as the employees build up the courage to serve the new arrival.  All around her, hushed conversation springs up.
“Did you hear about the demon she defeated?”
“I heard she saved the Princess.  She SAVED the Princess.”
“I read the other day that it was really her who defused the whole griffon situation…”
Rarity watches as her guest is finally ushered over.  She waves as their eyes meet, and then she’s floating up off her cushion, her chest full of lightness.  They nuzzle silently, then turn it into a tight hug, smiling into each other’s manes.
“It’s good to see you again,” Twilight says quietly, once they break apart.
“It’s always good to see you.  Please, sit.” Rarity gestures at the table.
They sit.  Twilight’s eyes dart around, taking in the crowd.  Ponies all around them are pretending not to stare or else discretely taking pictures.  The two friends wait for a few moments while the novelty passes, and most of the onlookers have returned to their meals.
“You look lovely,” Rarity says.  “Although I still think those robes hardly suit you.  So serious looking.  Just when is the Princess going to let me try my hoof at a new version?”
Twilight chuckles softly.
“They’re traditional.  I’ve gotten used to them,” she says.
“You wear them well,” Rarity says.  She means it, although she's really staring at Twilight’s face.  They’re both almost exactly the same age, but Twilight looks ten years older, at least.  There are heavy creases on her brow and around her eyes, making her look exhausted.  Too many long nights poring over dusty tomes, no doubt.
But her eyes are as sharp as ever.  They glint with cold intellect, almost detached, and they make Rarity a little uncomfortable despite their owner.
“Table for two?” Twilight asks.
“Why, yes.  Is someone else coming?”
Twilight looks angry with herself, then smiles like it’s no big deal.
“Right, I must have forgotten to tell you.  Sorry, I brought - well actually, it’ll be a nice surprise.  He should be showing up any minute now.”
“He?” Rarity makes a show of adjusting her glasses.
“Heh.  Yes.  I think he’ll be happy to see you, too.”
Rarity looks puzzled.  She feels like this should be easy, but nothing’s coming.  This is one of those times when she really does feel old and slow.  Twilight smiles at her confusion.
“Anyway…how have you been?” Twilight asks.
“Oh, the usual.  Fashion, glamour, worshipful admirers everywhere I look.  Just fabulous, really.”
“That’s good.  Everyone at the palace has been talking about your new line.  They keep saying it’s a comeback, but I didn’t think you went anywhere.”
“Isn’t it silly?  That’s what all the critics were saying.  They’ve been calling it the unnecessary comeback.  I really dislike it, actually.”
“It sounds like a negative thing.”
“Doesn’t it?  Honestly, they couldn’t come up with anything better.  Now it sounds like nopony wants it, but if the sales are any indication…”
She halts and blinks as something catches her eye.  Out of habit, her eyes were tracing the lines of Twilight’s clothes, analyzing the cut and colors.  She can just barely see a simple, circular pendant on Twilight’s neck.  It’s decorated with three smiling flowers.
“You still wear that?” Rarity asks, amazed.  
Twilight follows her gaze and then scowls.
“Of course I do!” she snaps loudly, drawing stares from nearby.  “Why wouldn’t I?”
Rarity’s jaw drops.  Twilight cringes, glancing around with apologies on her face.
“Sorry,” she mutters.  “Sorry, I…”
“No, I’m sorry,” Rarity says.  “Of course you do.  How insensitive of me.  I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Twilight looks down at the table.  Rarity reaches over and takes her hoof, squeezing firmly.
“We all miss her, Twilight,” she says.  “She was lovely.”
“…I know.” Twilight doesn’t look up.
Long seconds tick by.  Rarity holds on tightly, waiting.  Twilight sniffs once, loudly, then looks up.  Her face is normal again.
“Sorry,” she says.  “It was a while ago.  I’m better now.”
Rarity looks at her with sympathy, tinged with just a bit of skepticism.
“How’s your love life?” Twilight says with a fake smile.
“Ugh.” Rarity releases Twilight’s hoof, slumping just slightly on her seat.
“Ugh?”
“Ugh.” Rarity nods in affirmation.  She waves a hoof in the air dismissively.  “Eh…and then more ugh.”
“Mmm.” Twilight nods very seriously.
Rarity is debating whether or not to expand on that with real words when another commotion draws her attention.
Somepony screams.  A monster is standing in the restaurant’s front doorway.  The waiters start running for cover and more screams ring out.  Twilight calmly excuses herself from the table.
“Nopony panic!  He’s with me,” she calls out, blunt with authority.  The screams stop, but tension hangs thick in the air as Twilight greets the monster and guides him over to their table.
All eyes follow them, but again, the commotion dies down as the novelty wears off.  Hushed conversations flow around the room as ponies in the know explain to their friends.
The monster politely declines when a waitress offers him a cushion.  He sits on the floor, looming over their table.  Twilight takes her seat like nothing is out of the ordinary at all.
The monster smiles at Rarity and says something.  Rarity realizes her mouth has been hanging open this whole time.
“Spike?!” she gasps out.
“Hey, she does remember me!” He turns to Twilight with a victorious smile, like she owes him ten bits.
“Du…wha…you…” Rarity sputters and gasps, looking him up and down.  He’s big – not huge.  Maybe a little bigger than your average griffon.  His snout is longer and thinner.  His spines are pointier, accenting the sharp curves of his –
“Wings!” Rarity keeps gasping.
“Oh yeah.” Spike proudly displays them, flapping just a little.  “Jeez, they sprouted a long time ago.”
“It - It’s been years, Spike, I’m so sorry.” Rarity puts a hoof to her snout, hardly able to believe what she’s seeing.
“He’s become quite the flier,” Twilight chips in.  “He trained with Rainbow Dash, you know.  Definitely gotten me out of a few tight spots.”
“Anytime, Big Sis.”
He holds up a large, scaly fist and Twilight raises a tiny hoof.  They bump, sharing a look between two old veterans.
“Uh – goodness,” Rarity’s mouth is still hanging open a little.  Her eyes dart all over him – he has such strange muscles, so different from a pony’s body.  He looks fast.  And powerful.  And dangerous.
“My…Spike, you’ve really grown,” she says, pointing with a hoof.  She feels a little dumb for some reason – she hadn’t meant to use that tone, but it just slipped out that way.  Old habit.
Spike grins at her, displaying rows of terrifyingly sharp teeth.  Before she can react he takes her outstretched hoof in his huge claw and kisses it.  She freezes completely, her face blank.  He looks up from her hoof with his strange, slit-shaped pupils.
“It’s good to see you again,” he says.
She yanks her hoof back, shocked at how shaken she feels.
“Ha!  Ah ha…ha.  Oh my.  Uh…likewise,” she stammers.  She rubs her hoof where he kissed her, still feeling the weird, smooth touch of his lips.
Twilight narrows her eyes at Spike, obviously suppressing a groan.  Rarity sees her nudge him with a back leg, glaring.  He seems to ignore her, but he relaxes, sitting up again.
“You…uh…you look like a real dragon now,” Rarity says.  This time her tone is decidedly un-flirty.
“Thanks.” He puffs his chest out, but his grin looks forced.  He turns his grin on her.  “You look amazing.”
“Oh, you’re just saying that.  You must not remember what I looked like before.” Rarity slips back into her usual self for a moment.
“No, I mean it.  I can’t believe you and Twilight are the same age,” Spike says.
Twilight’s face goes blank.
“Hey!” she says.
“Oh, Spike, stop it!” Rarity says.

Why do my words keep coming out sounding like that?  Do I not know how to turn it off?
        “Seriously, you must do Yoga or Pilate’s or something,” Spike goes on.
        “Pilate’s!” Rarity can't help but gush.  “Good guess!”
        His grin deepens.  His eyes look hungry.  Rarity shrinks back, feeling fight-or-flight instincts pecking at her brain.  She feels small and weak, like prey.  Somewhere in her mind she knows it’s silly, but fear is trembling through her veins every time he looks at her.  She realizes suddenly that she’s panting a little.
        Twilight looks like she’s caught on.
        “Spike.” She puts a hoof on his shoulder.  “Tone it down.”
        He gives Twilight an “aww, come on!” look.
        “Rarity,” Twilight says.
        She stares at Spike’s teeth with wide eyes, frozen on her cushion.  Rows and rows of gleaming, sharp, pointy…
        “Rarity!”
        She snaps out of it.  She looks at Twilight, feeling a little dazed.
        “Calm down,” Twilight says.  “He’s not going to hurt you.”
        “What?!” Rarity scoffs.  “Don’t be ridiculous!  Of course he’s not going to hurt me!  What are you talking about?”
        Twilight shakes her head, like she’s seen all this before.
        “I’m used to him.  But I know not every pony is.  It’s natural to be a little unnerved.  Lots of dragons eat ponies, after all,” she says.
        Spike bows his head and frowns.
        “I know.  But it’s true, Spike,” Twilight says.
        “That’s preposterous!  Spike would never!” Rarity says.
        “That’s also true.  But,” Twilight lectures.  “You’ve still got an animal part of your brain that’s telling you to run away from him.”
        “I have no such thing!  Look.” Rarity scootches over and, with great effort, grabs Spike’s arm, pulling her closer to him.  He looks astonished but goes along with it, settling on the floor right next to her.
        “See?  How could I be afraid of little old Spike?” She smiles far too hard, hanging tightly on his arm.  She hardly notices the feel of it, but she does notice the heat – his scales burn against her hooves. It feels like she’s sitting right next to a fireplace.
        Spike shrugs and looks at Twilight like his hands are tied. Twilight just grimaces at them.
        “Just like old times,” Rarity says, trying to ignore how hard her heart is pounding in her chest.  She does ignore the fact that she never once sat like this with Spike when he was young.  Her hind legs are tensed against her seat, ready to spring away.  
        “That’s nice of you to say,” Twilight says flatly.  “But that doesn’t change how he looks.”
        This time Spike’s face goes blank for a moment.
        “Hey!” he says quietly.
        “Indeed.  What is that supposed to mean?” Rarity says with a haughty glare.
        Twilight sighs loudly.
        “Most ponies just see a dragon.  They don’t know him like we do,” she says wistfully.
        “That.  Is.  A.  Shame!” Rarity says.  “Just disgraceful.  Spike?”
        She turns to him with her hoof raised – again, old habit has her reaching down to condescendingly rub his spines.  But now, she’s looking down at his thick body.  She looks up in surprise at his head, towering over her.  He lowers his head, bowing before her, and she gives him a token stroke behind the ear.
        When he was little, she would stroke his spines sometimes.  The way you would stroke a cat or a dog, saying something like, “Who’s a good little boy?”
        Now she touches him tentatively, leaning away.  Like being forced to touch a dangerous animal.
        “I can’t see how anypony would be afraid of you, Spike.  I should think you look rather impressive,” she says.
        He raises his head and his eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised.
        “Really?” he says.
        “Absolutely!  Why, just look at that luxurious color!  It really suits you.”
        He looks down at his own body – his scales have darkened quite a bit, turning a deep purple.
        “And those spines!” Rarity goes on.  “Very dashing.  They almost look like a wild mane, the way all the young stallions are wearing them these days.”
        Spike blushes, an unusual thing for a dragon.
        “Geez, come on, Rarity.  I mean, uh…thanks?” He fidgets nervously, also unusual for a dragon.
        “There’s nothing wrong with the way you look, Spike,” she says.  She smiles a little deviously – his obvious discomfort is calming her down.  “I’d wager that you’re quite popular with all the dragon mares.”
        “Heh – uh, well,” Spike forces a grin.  This time the sight of his teeth only makes her heart race a little.
        Twilight rolls her eyes so hard she almost shakes the room.
        “Alright, we get it, Rarity.  You aren’t afraid of him.  You don’t have to flirt with him just to make a point,” she says.
        Rarity and Spike shoot her a glare in almost perfect unison.  Then they each notice the other and shoot upright on their seats, pointedly looking away.
        Twilight’s eyes bug out a little.  She makes a grand show of sighing loudly and shaking her head.
        “Anyway.  Perhaps we should order?” she says.
        “Yeah, I’m starving,” Spike blurts out.  He glances around the room.  “Didn’t this used to be Horsia’s?  When I was a kid I always wanted to eat here.”
        “It used to be,” Rarity says, casually flipping through a menu.  “It’s not quite the same anymore.”
        She tries to peruse today’s specials, but she feels eyes on her.  She looks up – Spike is staring at her with a faint smile playing on his lips.
        “That’s okay,” he says.
        She responds with a puzzled look, then smiles at him. He turns back to his menu, seeming satisfied.  The paper looks tiny and comical in his claws, and Rarity can’t help but watch him read.  He looks different, almost completely.  But somewhere in his eyes she can still see the little boy that used to endlessly fawn over her.
        He licks his lips once as he reads, darting a slender, forked tongue out for just a brief moment.  She catches a glimpse of his teeth again and her breath catches in her throat.  Her smile drops away.
        She looks back to her menu to choose her lunch, but she can’t help glancing over at him every few moments.



        Rarity wakes up slowly, floating back to consciousness.
        Her eyes creak open.  She smacks her dry lips together a few times without thinking.  She starts to get up but feels a painful kink in her back.  She settles back down.
        She’s on a couch in one of her many new rooms.  She hadn’t meant to really sleep – just a quick nap, was her final thought – but the sunlight in the windows has been replaced by a starry sky.  She fumbles her hooves over a side table, grateful that nopony is around to see her flailing like some old ninny.  Her hooves find her glasses.
        She remembers coming home and feeling utterly exhausted.  By the end of lunch she really was finally getting comfortable around Spike, but still – that was over an hour of stewing in tension, feeling adrenaline coursing through every vein.
        Her back’s protests are ignored as she wearily gets up.  She gets a glass of water and does a quick make up check – only a little mussed up, fixable with a few moments attention, there, perfect again – and makes her way to her first, original inspiration room.
        Projects in progress are scattered everywhere.  It’s the one place in her life where mess is reinterpreted as organized chaos.  She strides up to the last thing she was working on, a half-finished casual ensemble draped over a dress form in the corner.
        She stares at it, floating her glass of water in a magical glow.  She was stuck on this one earlier.  She keeps staring, wondering exactly where she left off.  Nothing about the outfit strikes her in any way at all.
        Ah, that was it.  That was exactly it.
        It’s so…eh.
        It’s boring.  Rote.  She’s done it a million times before, with success each time.  But nonetheless…
        It needs something.  Something different.  Something unusual.
        She keeps staring.  She takes a sip of water.  Her eyes go wide before she’s even finished.
        Ideeeeeeeea!
        She glances over each shoulder before rummaging around in one of her many stores of fabric and material, digging to the very bottom.  Something quite naughty is hidden down there.
        She floats a strip of the unusual ingredient out, draping it over the waist of the mannequin.  It lies there as a belt, perfectly accenting the rest of the piece.  It’s just right, a risqué little piece of flair that draws the right kind of attention.
        It’s illegal.  Vastly so.  She grimaces, wondering how to get away with using it.
        I could always just claim it’s synthetic.
        That would never work.  Not to trained eyes.  She runs a hoof down the leather, shuddering over the smooth bumps of the scales.  There’s just nothing quite like the real thing, is there?
        Strange that a crocodile could end up looking so beautiful.  Or is it an alligator?  Oh, what’s the difference anyway?  Some poor creature had to die so you could use its skin.
        Well, it’s already dead.  Damage done.  Would be a shame to let it go to waste at this point.
        Still.  Illegal.
        One would think that with friends in such high places, a fashionista could get away with a faux pas here and there.
        She smirks at the very idea.  Twilight Sparkle would most certainly disapprove.  Vehemently.
        She sighs and slides the leather off, holding it in her hooves.  It’s so strangely firm to the touch, so different from what she usually works with.  It was acquired as a mere curiosity, the consequence of an adventurous mood.  But it was quickly forgotten.  It’s not like she could ever really use it.
        The doorbell rings.
        She drops the leather, and almost drops her glass.  A paranoid flash of panic jolts through her brain.
        They know!  Burn the leather!  No, flush it down the toilet!
        Instead, she puts it back where she found it.  She checks herself in a large mirror, confirming her composure.  She fixes a welcoming smile on her face and makes her way downstairs.
        “I’m very sorry, sir or madam, but unless you have an appointment I’m somehow not aware of, the boutique is closed,” she sings out as she approaches the door.
        “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a customer, then.”
        “Spike?!”
        His voice is deeper, caught in the throes of adolescence, but still his.  She opens the door and he’s there, posing proudly, wings on full display.  A flush of adrenaline tingles through her, and she freezes in place.
        “Uh - hi?” he says.
        Her mouth moves wordlessly – her hooves feel weak and wobbly.
        “Sorry to surprise you like this.  I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he says.
        He looks worried by her lack of reaction.  She takes a deep breath, forcing control.
        “No, no, nothing like that.  Although I am surprised.  To what do I owe this pleasure?” She beams at him as if he were a customer.
        “Nothing special.  I just wanted to talk.”
        “Oh.”  She tries to glance past him, but he’s too big.  “Where is Twilight?”
        “Back at the hotel.”
        “She didn’t feel like coming along?”
        “Well,” he smiles a little wolfishly.  “She doesn’t know I’m here.”
        “Oh!  You…came alone?” Rarity cocks an eyebrow at him, trying not to look too suspicious.
        “She and I don’t do everything together.  Not anymore,” he says.
        “Naturally.  Naturally.  You’re grown now, everyone needs his or her space.  I understand.” She pauses, putting a hoof to her chin.  “So - you came to see me.  Alone.  To talk.”
        “Yup.” He nods very seriously.  “Is that okay?”
        She takes a long look at him, and instantly feels very silly for it.
        “Of course!  Of course, how rude of me, how could I keep such an old friend waiting on the doorstep?  Do come in.”
        She steps aside and beckons.  He has to duck his head and fold his wings in to fit through the door.  He expands again once he’s inside, posing like a stately statue.  His eyes go wide as they take in the boutique.
        “Wow!” he says.  “This is all new, isn’t it?”
        “Well, it’s the same building.  Fundamentally.  But yes, there have been all manner of additions and renovations,” she recites the usual spiel, leading him along towards the kitchen.  “With all the business I’ve been doing, I just needed more and more space.”
        “No kidding.”
        They walk past display racks, fitting rooms, studio set-ups, all dark.  Large, almost cavernous hallways branch off to new wings.  
        “You know, this really takes me back,” she says as they walk.  “I remember when you used to come over all the time to help me around the house.  Such a little gentleman.”
        “See?  I didn’t drag Twilight along all those times, either.”
        “True, true.  I suppose she doesn’t really like fashion and sewing as much as you do,” she says with a wry smile.  Spike snorts loudly.
        “Maybe I just liked listening to you talk.”
        He’s smiling at her again.  She feels her composure going, because of his teeth, of course.  She steadies herself and leads him on, saying nothing.
The small kitchen in the back is still much as it was – it hasn’t gotten nearly as much attention as the rest of the building.  Rarity turns the light on and feels strangely not at home – she gets a weird urge to do a round through the whole building, turning all the lights on.  The room feels so odd, an open gift shop in a closed museum.
        “Can I get you anything?” Rarity asks.  She wants to sound more motherly than dately.  She isn’t very good at it.
        “No thanks, I’m good.” He settles in, far too large for the table.  She pours herself another water, realizing that her last one was forgotten upstairs.
        “You still live alone?” Spike says, glancing around in disbelief.
        “Yes, well,” she joins him at the table, all practiced nonchalance.  “I have my work.  You know I’ve always been a career mare.”
        He snorts again, quietly, making little wisps of steam from his nostrils.
        “Sure, sure,” he says.  “I dunno, it’s still surprising.  I was sure you would be married, or…something.”
        “Mmm.  Just because I live alone doesn’t mean -”
        “Right.  Right.  Of course you have a…” he says, looking relieved.
        “Actually, to be honest, I don’t.  Not at the moment,” she says, a bit ruefully.  She’s not sure if she meant to show it or not.
        “Seriously?” he balks.  “How?  I mean, you’re famous!  And look,” his voice cracks slightly.  He looks panicked for a moment and clears his throat, then continues.
“Look at you.  You’re more beautiful than ever.”
She makes a point of not meeting his eyes.
“You’re too kind,” she says.
“No, I mean it.  It’s crazy that you’re alone,” he says.
“Spike,” she says sternly.  “That’s very flattering, but it’s not polite to overdo it.  I’ve,” she sighs heavily, intent on dramatizing the moment.  “I’ve gotten old.”  
She’s horrified – it sounded genuinely sad, way more than it was supposed to.  Spike doesn’t miss a beat.
“So?  I’ve gotten old, too.  It’s not bad.  Look at these things!” He flares his wings out, his eyes lighting up.  “Being old is awesome!”
She narrows her eyes a little.
“That’s different.  You’ve only gotten better.  But me - my best days are behind me.”  She finds herself staring at the floor, wondering why she’s guiding the conversation this way.
“That’s not true.”
She looks up at him.  As long as he just smiles like that and doesn’t grin, she can’t see his teeth.  She forgets to be uncomfortable and smiles back, preparing another evasion.
“Spike…” All she manages is an evasive tone.
“Maybe you don’t believe me, but it’s not.  You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” he says.  Again, she looks at the floor.
“You know,” he says, “At the palace they have entire cellars just for ageing things.  They put things down there and leave them for years, until they’re just right.  Whole huge rooms full of cheese, just sitting there.”
She raises one eyebrow.  She knows exactly what he’s saying, but she pretends not to anyway.
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.  It’s like you’ve been in one of those rooms.” He looks as overly dramatic as Rarity looked before.
“Did you just compare me to old, smelly cheese?” She wrinkles her nose up.
“Hey, it’s good cheese!” He shrugs.  She gives him a withering stare, and he falters.
“Uh, I mean…”
She can see him thinking quickly.  She smiles as he scrambles for a parachute.
“They have wine, too,” he says with a grin.  “Finest wine in Equestria.”
“That’s much better.  I prefer chocolate rather than cheese with my wine, as it happens,” she says.
“Well I don’t have any chocolate.  Or wine, either.” He scratches his head.

And why would you?       
She locks that thought away.  He’s staring at her again.  This time she’s the one scrambling for a parachute.
        “Uh - funny you should mention that.  I order all my wine from Canterlot.”
        She floats a bottle from a rack on the counter, offering it to Spike.
        “Hey.  Palace Wine.  Speaking of.” Spike holds it gingerly, turning the bottle this way and that.  “Straight from the cellars of Canterlot’s Royal Wineries.  Aged to perfection,” he reads.  “Heh, I have no idea if this is a good year or anything.  I don’t even know what it tastes like.”
        “Wha?” she gasps.  “You’ve never tried it?”
        “I don’t really drink.  Not my style.” Spike tries very hard to look cool.
        “Well you should at least try it.  It’s simply divine.”  She floats two glasses along as well.  “If you’d like to, that is.”
        “Hey, if you’re offering.”
        “Ha!  Well, you are of age now, aren’t you?  I don’t see why not.”
        She giggles a little as she pours two glasses, horrified at every movement.
        This - this is fine. This is all fine.  Just two old friends talking.  This is fine.
        Spike carefully holds his glass, far too small for his claws.  It’s adorable, watching him try to manage it.
        “I guess this is like a raise, huh?” he says.
        “Hmm?”
        “You used to give me a soda when I would come over to help.  You always joked that you were paying me.  For services rendered.”
        “I remember now.  You were such a good helper.  You certainly earned some kind of reward.”
        Their eyes meet and they both look away instantly.  She’s so unsettled by his strange, slit-like pupils that it’s making her blush.
        “We’re supposed to drink to something, aren’t we?” he asks.
        Rarity takes a moment to think, trying to find something that’s nice without being suggestive in any way, shape, or form.  Spike doesn’t bother waiting.
        “To old cheese.” He raises his glass.
        Rarity snorts out loud and instantly covers her mouth, horrifying herself even more.
        Oh, why not?
        “Excuse me!  Ha - ahem.  Yes.  To old cheese.”
        They tap glasses.  Rarity takes a generous swig, but has to hold in another snort as Spike chokes on a tiny sip.
        “Ack!  Bleh!” He gives his glass a confused look.  “THIS is what wine tastes like?”
        “It’s an acquired taste.” Rarity smugly swirls her glass.
        Spike steels himself up and sips again, this time only frowning a little.
        “It’s good,” he says with a big fake smile.
        “Fibbing?  Perhaps you’re less of a gentleman than I remembered.” She gives him a look that’s given pause to countless stallions.  He deftly counters.
        “That’s funny.  You’re exactly as I remember.”
        She can’t say anything – she knows how she responds to flattery.  Instead she laughs just a little evasively and glances around.  Again, she gets the urge to run around turning lights on.  The kitchen’s light doesn’t extend past the doorway.  It looks like they’re surrounded by darkness.  It’s so…
Intimate?
        “Spike!  How silly of me.  You must be uncomfortable at that table,” she says.
        “Huh?  No, it’s -”
        “Come with me.”
        She ambles off, not giving him the chance to respond.  She leads him again through dark hallways to one of her sitting rooms, usually used for entertaining her more amicable clients.  Among other things.
        “Here!  Although I suppose these couches may be a bit small for you, as well,” she says as they enter.
        “I’m fine on the floor.”
        “Are you quite sure?” she trails off as he settles in on the plush carpet.  He gives her a content nod.  She adjusts the lamps, bathing the room in warm, slightly dim light, before settling onto one of her many fancy sofas.  She’s sitting just high enough that their eyes are level.
        There.  Much better.
        Spike looks around, fumbling with the glass of wine in his claws.
        “This reminds me of the palace.  You must be really raking it in,” he says.
        “Oh, enough about me.  What about you, Spike?  I must admit I hardly know what you’ve been up to all these years.”
        “Eh, nothing too special.” He shrugs.
        “Are you still Twilight’s assistant?” she says, sipping more wine with a cheeky smile.  Spike is unfazed.
        “I’m more like her partner now.”
        “Really?” She looks interested without having to fake it.  “I’ve heard some…interesting things about her work lately.”
        “Heh.  Yeah,” he chuckles, just a bit wearily.  “It does get interesting sometimes.”
        “When she told me she was taking that position, I pictured her…well, being her.  Studying and researching and what not.  I had no idea it was so -”
        “That’s what it mostly is.  But sometimes…you know Twilight.  She’ll do whatever the Princess asks.” Spike stares down into his wine, not coming close to drinking it.
        “I’m sure.” Rarity rolls her eyes a little.  “Still, the things I’ve heard.  Do you really go along with her…for -?”
        “Yeah.” Spike looks distinctly uncomfortable in his own scales, hesitant.  “I mean, she’s so powerful now.  It’s really amazing, the things she can do.  She does all the heavy lifting.  I’m really just there to watch her back, I guess.”
        “Watch her back?  Spike, you’re making it sound like you’re some kind of bodyguard.”
        Spike shifts his eyes around, chuckling a little.
        “That’s funny.  That’s actually how the Princess put it.  Unofficially, anyway.  Officially, I’m a special agent in Her Royal Highness’ service.” He speaks his own title with mocking fanfare.
        “Goodness!” Rarity sits up on her couch, faintly wondering why it’s so warm in here.  She doesn’t remember turning the heat on.  It must be Spike, of course.
        “Hey, it’s not like - I dunno, I didn’t sign up for any of that stuff.” Spike looks strangely serious, drawing into himself.  “I just wanted to help Twilight.”
        “Of course, of course.  I’m sorry, Spike, I didn’t mean to sound like that.  I’m not judging you.” Rarity reaches out as a token gesture, not close enough to actually touch him.  “It’s just so strange.  Last thing I knew, you were a cute little boy.  I can’t picture you as a soldier.”
        “I’m not.” He finally warms up again, smiling at her.  “I’m Twilight’s partner.  I do it for her.”
        Rarity is relaxed but upright, more engaged than she can remember being in a long time.  Usually when she’s entertaining, the conversation revolves around celebrity gossip and who’s doing whom this week.
        “It’s…dangerous, isn’t it?” she says, teasing her hoof along the rim of her glass.  Spike looks away again, obviously uncomfortable.
        “Sometimes,” he says.
        Rarity met a member of the Royal Guard once, some time ago.  He had bragged endlessly about his one time in combat.  It was thrilling sometimes, but it quickly grew tiresome.
        And he was SUCH an oaf in bed.
        She can tell Spike would rather talk about anything else, but something about his reluctance is so charming.
        “Have you ever had to…protect Twilight?” Rarity says, eyebrows raised.
        Spike looks taken aback – the answer is written all over his face.
        “Sorry.  Excuse me.” She instantly feels bad for pressing the question.
        “No, it’s okay.” Spike recovers, drumming his claws against his own glass.  “I mean…I don’t like to…you know.  Hurt anyone.  But I didn’t want to let anything bad happen to her anyway.  Now it’s my job to be there.  I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”
        “Mmm.” Rarity nods, sipping more wine.  Spike looks happy, like he’s convinced himself.  But it doesn’t last long – he heaves a heavy sigh.
        “…But?” Rarity asks.
        “Mmm.” Spike snorts quietly with a sad smirk.  “I don’t know.  Most of the time I just fetch books and stuff for her.  I like that.  But everyone treats me like I’m some kind of - I don’t know…”
        “Dragon?” Rarity says thoughtlessly.  Spike frowns.
        “Yeah.” He lies down and folds his arms, resting his chin on them.  “I miss the old days.  Here in Ponyville.  You know, just hanging out.  No diplomatic missions.  No foiling assassination plots or escorting dignitaries.  No ponies gasping and shrieking and hiding their foals everywhere I go.”
        Rarity feels her heart breaking for him, just a little bit.  She remembers Spike as a wide-eyed little kid, finding at least a little joy in everything.  She frowns, the corner of her mouth twitching a little.
        “Spike?”
        He looks up at her from the floor.
        “I have to confess something. I’m so, so sorry…but I don’t want to be dishonest with you.”
        His eyebrows shoot up.  She can’t back down now.
        “When I first saw you, in the restaurant?  I was a little afraid of you.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t recognize you at first, and you’re so…well, you are a dragon.”
        “Oh.” He deflates into the rug.
        “I mean…” She feels angry with herself for even bringing this up, and vows to turn it around somehow.  “It’s not your fault, Spike.  That’s just how you are.  You can’t help it.  Anypony who knows you knows it’s silly to feel that way.  That’s why I felt so awful about it, I suppose.”
        “It’s okay.  I’m used to it by now.  I’m not a kid, I know about other dragons.  I know I look just like one of those monsters.”
“You are NOT a monster, Spike,” Rarity says sternly.  He raises his eyebrows again.  “I know how kindhearted you are.  I don’t want to ever hear you compare yourself to one of them again.  You’re different from them.  On the inside.”
Spike raises his head, looking amazed by her.  It’s quickly overtaken by a shadow in his eyes.
“Thanks.  But I still look like them.”
“Spike!” she scolds him.  He reacts like he’s still a kid, instantly looking guilty.  “Now who’s being hard on themselves?  You look wonderful, Spike.  You’re very handsome.  You’re just different, that’s all.”
His whole face rises, buoyed by her words.
“Really?” he says.
“Absolutely.” She sips her wine again, as if ending the discussion.  When she lowers her glass, Spike is staring at her.  He looks determined, all of a sudden.  Now it's easy to picture him as a soldier.
“Rarity…I want to confess something, too.”
Uh oh.
She jumps in place, tensing up.  She knew, deep down, that she was treading a fine line.  She just wanted to make him feel better.
“I wasn’t entirely honest.  I came here tonight to tell you something.”
She fumbles with her glass, looking for any kind of excuse.  Nothing comes to mind.  Her smile is cracking around the edges.
“I’ve wanted to tell you this for a long time…” He takes a deep breath, digging his claws into the rug.
“Spike…don’t.” Stern again.  Almost desperately so.
“Why not?” He narrows his eyes.
“We have a lovely friendship, don’t we?” Rarity grins hopefully, hiding behind her glasses.  It has the opposite of the intended effect – Spike seems to steel himself up further.
“Maybe.  But I have to say this.”
For all her own melodramatics, having someone else treat her in kind is a little unsettling.  Rarity braces herself, closing her eyes.
“Spike!  Please.”
“I love you.”
He blurts it out, breathing again the moment it leaves his lips.  Rarity winces, then forces herself to look at him.
“...Spike.” She loads his name with as much sympathy as possible.
“I always have.  Ever since the first moment I saw you.” He looks her right in the eye, unwavering.  She avoids his gaze, preparing as many soft apologies as she can muster.
“Spike...that's...that's very sweet of you to say.” Her look says something else entirely.
“It's okay.  I know you don't feel the same way.”
Her facade breaks completely.  She openly gawks at him.
“I'd be stupid if I hadn't figured it out by now, right?” he says.
She just stares at him with her mouth hanging open, lost in unfamiliar territory.  She'd been ready for a confession of some kind, but this?
“I...uh...” she stammers, having no choice but to just lay it out.  “Spike, I don't know what to say.”
“You don't have to say anything.  I wanted to say it.  That's all.” He looks so calm, resigned, like he's duty-bound to bear this.  “Don't worry, I'm not mad or anything.  At some point over the years I just realized you would never love me back, and...I don't know.  I've gotten used to it, I guess.”
Rarity sits still, completely astonished.
“Spike, I'm...I'm sorry,” she says.
“Don't be.”
She gives him a look of almost admiring confusion.  He's so calm about this.  She's seen grown stallions reduced to tears over her, breaking completely.
“It's not your fault or anything,” Spike goes on.  “That's just how it is.”
He smiles wearily, his duty done.  Rarity sinks into a guilty frown, not sure how she's coming out as the one feeling bad here.
“You were always so nice to me,” he says.
“Well I'm sorry!” she snaps, making Spike blink in confusion.  “I never meant to hurt you, Spike.  You were a child!  What was I supposed to do?”
“Hey, hey.  Relax, it's fine.” He holds his claws up.  “Besides, it's not just that, is it?”
At long last the elephant in the room introduces itself.  Rarity suddenly takes great interest in her couch cushions.
“I mean, I'm a dragon.  And you're a unicorn...”
“We're not even the same species,” Rarity mutters.
“I know.  I get it.  I'm weird.  I get it.”
Now she really does feel bad for him.
“Spike!” she starts to scold.  He holds up a claw solemnly, cutting her off.
“Don't worry about it.  It is what it is.  I've had a lot of time to figure this out.”
She almost sulks, still having trouble wrapping her head around how he's acting.  She's never seen anything like it, in all her long years and many courtships.
“So - is that it, then?” she asks.
“Yup.  Just wanted to say it.” He looks amazingly unperturbed.  “And boy, does it ever feel good!  I've been holding that in for like, forever.  I mean, everyone knew,”
“But it feels nice to get it off your chest all the same, doesn't it?”
Spike nods, somehow smiling a little.
“I must say, I'm rather impressed, Spike.  You've become quite the young man,” she says, treading the line again.  He waggles his eyebrows over-dramatically.
“Impressed enough to go on a date with me?” he says.  She answers with an unimpressed face.
Careful there.
“Kidding.  Kidding.” He waves a claw.  She relaxes.  “Besides, there's probably like, laws against that or something.”
“I don't think so.  I don't think anyone ever anticipated needing a law against it.”
“I'm just too wild for the law to keep up, I guess,” Spike says, all haughty coolness.  Rarity truly believes now that he trained with Rainbow Dash.  She laughs silently and smiles a little.
“Thanks.  For listening to this,” he says.
“Of course, Spike.  You had to say your piece.  I respect that.”
They look at each other, and immediately look away.  Awkward silence takes over the room with a victorious laugh.  Rarity taps a hoof on her sofa, completely lost.  Usually at this point the stallion in the equation would be begging for her to reconsider, or hemming and hawing and trying to still wheedle some sex out of the deal somehow.
“Anyway,” Spike says, fumbling with his claws.
“Anyway,” Rarity answers.
“Here.  I wanted to give you this.  Before I forget.” Spike reaches into his...pockets?  She was never quite sure how that worked.  He pulls out something that sparkles in the light, reaches over, and places it on the couch before her.
She looks down at it, cocking one eyebrow.
“It's a gem,” she says, flatly.
“Yup.”
She's seen thousands upon thousands by now.  This one is nice – it's a fine example of a sapphire.  Nothing out of the ordinary, though.  It’s not even half as nice as the ruby she practically conned him into giving her once, so long ago. She really prefers diamonds, anyway.
“Thank you?”
“I have a hoard now.  A real one, with treasure and stuff,” he explains.
“Oh!  Good for you, Spike!  That's sort of a thing for dragons, isn't it?”
“Kind of.  That was the first piece I put in it.  I wanted you to have it.”
“Aww!” She puts a hoof to her chest, activating her standard gift appreciation routine.  “I see.  That does make it special, doesn't it?”
“That isn't the only reason it's special.”
She glances down at the gem again.  Nothing about it is particularly striking.  She could even see herself passing over it if selecting for a garment.
“...Oh?” She glances back up at Spike.  
He gets a clever smile.
“You don't remember,” he says.
“Remember?  Remember wha-”

“You've been very patient today, Spike.  And for that, you get the finest reward!  This is from me, to you.”
He just stares at it, then at her.
“Is something wrong, Spike?”
He hugs it to his chest, amusing her.
“No - It's perfect!”

Her breath leaves her completely.  Her jaw drops.
Her eyes tear up, blurring the gem.  She puts a hoof to her snout, feeling a lump well up in her throat.
“Spike...” She clears her throat, taking great effort to speak clearly.  “You...you kept it?”
“Of course I did.”
She closes her eyes, feeling foolish for the tears that slide out.  She sniffs loudly and takes her glasses off, dropping them wherever.  She wipes at her eyes.
“I thought you would...I don't know, eat it or something,” she says.
She can't see, but she hears his gasp.
“Never!”
She squeezes her eyes shut tighter.  She used to pride herself on her control over her own tears.  These are hers to command, and now they're running amok.
She wants to run away.  Others don't get to see her like this – she's panicking a little, completely exposed.  She sniffs again and forces herself to turn to him, to put up some kind of front.
“I...this...” She's right on the edge of blubbering, her eyes shimmering.  “This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever given me.”
He frowns, looking hurt.  Looking finally like something's happened he didn't expect all along.
She can't hold it.  She chokes and sobs once, burying her face in her hooves.  She hides behind them for what feels like a long time, trying to just get this damn water coming out of her eyes under control.
“I'm sorry,” Spike gravely breaks the pause.  “I - I should go.”
She drops her hooves and looks at him, horrified.
“I can let myself out.”
He gets up and starts trudging off, not looking back.
Now she really does panic.  She glances back and forth from him to the gem and back, shaking with a mess of emotions.
He's leaving.  He's slowly walking out of the room.
Words leave her brain completely.  Something strange is happening, her mind racing with no actual thoughts running through it.
He's past the other couch now.  Almost to the door.
She looks back and forth frantically, steady as a metronome.  He's leaving and this is it and she'll still be here all alone in her big, dark, boutique with all her success and money and fame.  Everything she needs.  Nothing missing.  Right?
He's almost at the door.  His head is bowed, just slightly, shoulders slumped.  She rests her hoof on the gem, seeing copies of herself looking back.  She looks awful, completely forlorn.
He's in the doorway, casting a long shadow out into the hall.  This is it.
“Wait!”
He freezes, his spines twitching.  She looks around for whoever said that and realizes with a start that it was her.
“Wait.”
She lets her hooves move on her own, carrying her over to him.  He turns, looking confused.  She comes to a stop in front of him.
They stare at each other for the longest second of her life.  She has to crane her neck up – her head only comes up to about the height of his shoulders.  He waits cautiously, all kinds of doubt in his eyes.
“Don't go,” she hears herself say.
“...What?” he mumbles.
“Don't go.”
He gives her a look like he's checking her for weapons.
“Why not?  There's nothing more to say.”
She bites her lip, unsure if she's uncomfortable or going insane or happier than she's ever been.  She's not used to letting her words come out unfiltered, especially with men.
“I...I don't want you to go.”
He looks shocked, but he quickly reins it in.  Somehow he's ended up the guarded one here.
“What are you talking about?” he says.
“Don't go.  Please.”
She says it very quietly.  Simply.  As if there weren't worlds of possible meaning behind every word.  He glares at her.
“Look...I understand, about before.  I was just a kid, it's fine.  But if you're messing with me now,”
“I am NOT messing with you.” She matches his glare and doubles it, making him shrink back.  “How could you even think I would do such a thing?”
His face is awash with confusion and apologies.
“Yeah...but...” he wonders.
“You are right - you aren't a kid anymore, are you?” She smiles, touching a hoof to his arm just above the elbow.  His eyes go wide at her touch, she can practically see his heart rate picking up.
“But...I'm still a...and you're a...”
She laughs nervously, waving a hoof in the air.
“Details.” She smiles uneasily.
His mind is completely blown.  Rarity eases down a bit, feeling in control again.  Kind of.
“But...but...” he stammers breathlessly.
“Sit.  Please.”
He nods mutely.  She leads him, pulling with her hoof, dragging his weightless body along back to where he was sitting.  He settles down in the same spot, his face a stone mask of complete bewilderment.
She sits next to him on the floor.  She feels tiny, next to his folded wings.  He glances over at her and balks in terror at how close she is, tearing his eyes back to nothing.
They sit.  The gem sits on the couch in front of them, and they both end up staring at it, sitting on edge.  A long pause stretches out, full of possibilities.
“That really is the sweetest thing anyone's ever given me,” Rarity says calmly.
“You're not going to eat it, are you?”
She smirks and smacks him on the shoulder.  He's solid as a house – her hoof bounces off of him.
He fidgets next to her, barely able to muster a few glances at her hooves.  He's exuding awkward tension, every bit the nervous teenager she expected before.  He gulps loudly and works his jaw like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.
That's more like it...familiar territory.
“So.  Spike,” she says, still staring at the gem.
He winces.
“You love me.  After all these years.”
He nods, almost grudgingly.
“Even after giving up hope that I would ever love you.” She almost sighs, wallowing in the sappy romance of the idea.
“Well...yeah,” he mumbles.  “I mean...right?  You never loved me.”
This time she winces.  Rarity can't fathom how this keeps happening – the tables are turning so fast that they're practically flipping in the air.
“I did give up.  I still love you, but...you...you?” He manages to just barely look at her out of the corner of one eye.
“Things are different now, Spike.  You've changed.  I've changed.”
He looks almost terrified.
“Do you -?”
“Well,” she hedges, phrasing every syllable delicately.  “I didn't.  Before.  We can be honest about that.”
He nods again, silently, taking comfort in familiar pain.
“But now - well, like I said, things have changed.  Perhaps I should... reassess... things.”
He turns to her with complete, dumbfounded wonder.  It doesn't last – he can't keep his eyes on her.  He obviously panics and jumps back to staring at the gem.
She sighs a little at his display...no, at his honest actions.  There's no facade here, she realizes.  She's seeing right down into the unvarnished nuts and bolts.
“Re...reassess?” he asks.
“Mmm.” Her eyes grow confident enough to inspect him briefly.  He's so different – not just from how he was before, but from anything she has any experience with.  He tenses up, obviously feeling her gaze, digging his claws into the rug again.  She starts to wonder what those claws would feel like stroking through her…
I can’t believe I’m even CONSIDERING this.  This is madness!
Calm down.  Calm.  Deep breath.
One step at a time.
“Let's talk,” she says casually.
“...talk?”
“Mmmhmm,” she says.  “Talk.  As two adults.”
His eyes go wide.  He freezes completely.  As an adult.
“Have you ever...met anyone?” she asks.  “Before we met again, I mean.”
Her question hangs in the air, gathering momentum before he can answer.
“No.”
“Really?”
“Dragons aren't the most social creatures.  I've never really met another one, honestly.”
He seems okay to talk as long as he doesn't look at her.  She smirks, amused.
“I don't suppose you've ever been taken with another pony?”
He chuckles softly.
“Heh, not really.  Twilight asked me once to...”
He jolts and stammers, rubbing the back of his neck.  Rarity shakes her head, blinking.
“What?!”
“Duh, I mean...jeez, she's gonna kill me.  She made me promise not to tell.”
Rarity just gawks at him.
“I guess this is payback for when she told everyone I had a crush on you, huh?”
Rarity continues to gawk at him.
“...What?!”
“It was...it was right after.  You know.  Cheerilee.”
Rarity's mouth snaps shut.
“Oh,” she says.  “Oh my.”
“Yeah.  She...uh...she was in a pretty bad place.”
“Did you...?” one of her eyebrows asks.
“No!” He looks at her like she's crazy.  “No way.”
“Sorry, I just...”
“I couldn't.  Even if things weren't like...you know.  I don't know, it's funny.  I've never felt this way about another pony.  Just you.”
Naturally, through talking, they've started looking at one another.  That line breaks it up.  Rarity looks down at her hooves.
“Sorry.  I shouldn't have asked,” she says.
“It's okay.  I shouldn't have told,” he says.  “Promise you won't tell her?”
She raises her head and smiles at him.
“Cross my heart and hope to...”
Her smile fades.
“...Fly?” he suggests.
She nods weakly.
Life is short, isn't it?
“I miss her,” he says.  “Not as much as Twilight does.  But I do.”
She disobeys certain parts of her brain and takes a long look at him.  He's looking down at the floor, not out of awkwardness this time.  If he were a pony she would put a hoof on his shoulder, maybe lean her head against him.  Something, anything to show her she understands.  Sometimes words aren't what's right.
She scoots an inch closer to him.  It's all she can muster.  He reacts as if she's touched him somewhere private, jolting upright.
“Is this alright?” she asks.
“It's fine!” he blurts out awkwardly, unable to look at her for more than a moment at a time.
“You're so warm,” she says.  She hates to admit it, but at night she's started feeling cold aches in her joints, no matter how many blankets she sleeps with.  She's even, to her horror, started including it as a consideration when deciding whether to invite someone into her bed.  
“Heh...chest full of fire.  That's a dragon for you,” Spike says.  He's a furnace right next to her.  It's like a dry sauna...no, not as hot.  Not overpowering.  Just comfortable.
She hovers next to him.  They're molecules, atoms away from their sides touching.  He raises a claw to his snout and clears his throat.  When he puts it down, he smoothly rests it over one of her hooves, hovering on the tips of his claws.  Not touching her.
Her breath catches in her chest.  Adrenaline welcomes itself back, winding itself through her body as she stares down at his huge claw dwarfing her limb.
He is not a monster.  I'm not scared...I'm not scared of him.  I'm not.
Her heart pounds in her chest.  She's ashamed at feeling this...
...fear?
She really isn't that scared, she realizes with a start.  He unfurls one wing, draping it over her, and she gasps out loud.  Again, it hovers just outside of actually touching her.
She's wrapped in his warmth, mingling with the heat already coursing through her body.  She raises her other hoof to her chest, almost fanning herself.  Her lungs feel tight, she's panting like a schoolfilly.
This...this is...this is preposterous!  He's a different species, for pony's sake!
“Is...is this alright?” he asks quietly.
“It's fine,” she blurts out, grinning nervously.  She punctuates it by daintily clearing her throat.
She leans into him, as if drawn by a magnet.  His side is a wall of firm scales and muscle, and none of her strange apprehension can stand up to how undeniably comfortable it is.  His scales aren't hard or sharp, like armor.  They're smooth, tough, almost soft.  Like leather.
His claw is trembling over her hoof, not quite imperceptibly.  She rests her head on his shoulder, flattening her mane against his scales, and the trembling doubles.
“Rarity?”
She looks up at him, delighted to see how nervous he is.  He was so stoic before – he seems more real now.
“Yes?” she says.
“May I...kiss you?”
She laughs out loud, a musical chime that she quickly cuts off.
“...Sorry.” She puts her hoof down.  “You're adorable, Spike.  So old-fashioned.  May I kiss you - such a gentleman!”
His face doesn't flinch, still waiting for an answer.  She gulps loudly, then bites her lip again.
This is it.  Put up or shut up.
Her wine is still sitting on the couch.  She lights her horn up and floats it over, finishing it in one gulp.
Spike's wine glass is still on the floor.
“Are you going to drink that?” she asks.
“...No,” he says.
She snaps it up and downs the whole thing, coughing a little.  Then she turns to him with an anxious grin, reaching into her reserves of routine charm.
“You don't have to ask, Spike,” she says with forced seductiveness.
He looks like he can't even understand her language.  He's completely frozen, not trembling anymore, his whole body stock still.
Her body seems more than willing to pick up his slack.  Her hooves are shaking, and she slams one on top of the other, binding them still.  The moment stretches out, cutting her with anticipation.
“...Well?” she says, almost angrily.
He jolts, like she's driving him with a whip.  He leans closer to her, lowering his head, terror all over his face.  She braces herself and lifts her chin, closing her eyes.
She can feel the heat of him as he draws closer, feel the hissing snarls of breath in his throat.  She winces back, unable to keep her head from turning away.  One eye creaks open and immediately snaps shut again, he's so close...
Warm, scaly lips land right next to her mouth, pressing gently against the pure white of her muzzle.  Her wince deepens as it finally happens, images of sharp, dripping fangs ringing out in her brain.
And then it's over.  It lasted less than a second.
She opens her eyes, blinking.  Spike is staring at her, resigned to defeat.
“You didn't enjoy that, did you?” he says.
She fakes an indignant gasp, glaring at him.
Did I?
“How could you say that?  That was lovely,” she says.
“It was?” He cocks an eyebrow.
It was?
“Certainly so.  That was your first kiss, hmm?  Wasn't it special?”
He frowns at her, clearly a little sharper than she had given him credit for.
What is wrong with you?  If you're going to do it, then just do it.
“...Sorry.  Here.”
She boldly takes his chin in her hooves and pulls him close again.  He gasps in surprise, displaying a menacing set of fangs right in front of her.  She freezes, pupils shrunk down to pinpricks.
Teeth.  TEETH.  Oh goodness they look so SHARP.
They're right there, gleaming in the warm light, as big as steak knives.  Her haunches burn in terror, her chest flutters with fear.  She hangs there, not moving, until it's obviously been too long.
Spike pushes her hooves away, drawing back.  He scowls at her.
“I know what I look like.  You don't have to do this just to make me feel better,” he says.  She can tell he wants to growl it, to sound tough and manly, but it just comes out sad.
“Spike!” She stomps a hoof on the floor.
Is he wrong?
He turns away, still forcing a scowl.
Look what you've done!  The poor thing...
That - that's not what this is about.  Is it?
No!  No I want to do this.  I think.  Do I?  Why can't I just do this?
Hmm...what possible reasons could one have to not commit bestiality?
I...that's not...we...
She glares at herself and tries to meet his eyes.  He avoids her.
Am I really that shallow?
Shallow might not be the word you're looking for, darling.  Perhaps insane?
No!  I want to do this.  I want HIM.  He's so sweet...
Then just kiss those gleaming fangs of death and be done with it!
She narrows her eyes, indignant at the pain on his face.  This cannot stand.  This will not stand.
But...but...SHARP...
She puts a hoof on his shoulder, firmly.  He barely moves, but for a slight, sulky creasing of his eyebrows.
Familiarity breeds comfort, does it not?
“Spike?”
She says it firmly, like commanding a servant.  He doesn't move.
“Spike.”
Still he ignores her.  She grabs his chin and pulls his face over, holding him right in front of her face.  That breaks his sulk, and he stares at her in wonder again.
“Open your mouth,” she commands.
“What?!”
“Open.  Your.  Mouth.”
He looks at her with pure confusion, but obeys.  He grins, nowhere near a smile.
My my my, they are something indeed.
She holds in a gasp, locking herself down in haughty, master seamstress mode.  She turns his chin this way and that, inspecting his teeth.  They're pearly white, and indeed they are big and sharp.  But they don't look nearly so bad now, devoid of context.  They might as well be decorations.
“Say aah.” 
“Uh...” He cocks an eyebrow.
“No.  Aaaaah.”
She demonstrates briefly, showing off her tonsils.  He follows suit, washing his hot breath over her.  She runs her eyes all around his jaw, taking clinical interest in the peculiarities of his mouth – there's no small dangly thing in the back of his throat, for one.  For two, the fangs are only up front – they transition to flat molars in the back.
Well of course.  How else would he chomp down gemstones?
There.  Just bits of enamel and bone.  Nothing to be afraid of.
What is wrong with you?  He could tear you limb from limb!
        She wrinkles her nose up.  She's been with a few pretty impressive stallions – soldiers, athletes, that sort.  One of them could have killed her with a well-placed strike or two.
        Is this really all that different?
        Her nose wrinkles again.  Is that...mint?
        “I never thought a dragon's breath would smell so fresh,” she says, genuinely astonished.
        “Uh,” he blushes, reflexively rubbing the back of his neck.  Rarity finds this deeply charming.
        “Aha!  Just in case, hmm?  You sly young thing.” She smiles mischievously, prodding his chest with a hoof.
        “So...wait.” The hurt leaves his face, but the confusion lingers.  “What exactly is going on here?”
        “Well...” She makes a show of being embarrassed.  “I was afraid of your teeth.”
        “Oh.”
        “Please don't think that I find you ugly or anything, it's really just that.”
        “Huh.” He seems to consider this in a sober fashion.  “Rainbow Dash is always saying how bad ass they look.”
        Rarity rolls her eyes.
        “She would say that.”
        “Hmm.” Spike ponders briefly.  “What if I just...?”
        He curls his lips around his teeth, gumming them together.  He looks like an old, toothless pony, eagerly eyeing Rarity as he smacks his stretched lips together.
        “Ha!  Spike, that looks ridiculous!”
        He stops hamming it up and grins at her, happy to make her laugh.  Their eyes meet.
        Rarity feels her breath pick up, sees that look in his eye, that same look they always get right when they make up their mind to kiss you.  Apparently that look crosses species lines.  He starts to lean forward...
        Those TEETH.  She feels a wince forming and cuts it off.  She puts a hoof firmly to his chest.
        “Spike.”
        He raises his eyebrows, hers to command.
        “I want you to kiss me.  No matter what I do, even if it looks like I'm scared.  I want you to really kiss me.  Right now.”
        The slits of his eyes contract.  His mouth hangs open.
        “Now, Spike!”
        He darts forward, and then it's really happening.
        Her eyes shoot closed.  Her whole body tenses and a muffled whimper escapes her lips as he presses his against her.  She keeps her lips forced close, quivering, just sitting there letting him have at her.  She feels one of his claws reach up and gently, carefully rest on her neck, brushing against the curls of her mane.
        He opens his mouth, just slightly.
        Teeth teeth teeth TEETH
        She can feel them, through his lips.  Smooth, hard blades, savage and menacing in her mind.  Her heart is pounding almost painfully hard, cold sweat breaks out all over her body.
        She whimpers again and shakes as she forces her lips to open, to return this terrifying kiss.
        And it's at that moment that she realizes how wet she is.
        Her eyes almost shoot open.  She opens her lips, damp heat blasting into her mouth.  She puts a hoof to his cheek, rubbing it over the smooth bumps of his scales.  Her jaw relaxes, moving her lips against his in a mutual massage, and they're finally, finally actually kissing.
        She darts her tongue out against one of his fangs and feels an almost sickening rush of arousal clench in her flanks.
        AAAAHHHH!  AAAAAAHHHHH!
        She can't tell if the screaming in her head is fear or pleasure or both.  She feels a slender, strangely dry thing snaking against her tongue and panics completely when she realizes what it is.
        She jumps back, breaking their first kiss with a yelp of surprise.
        “What?” Spike gasps.  “What?  Did I hurt you?”
        “No!” Rarity yells, eyes wild.  “Your...your tongue!  It...it... it it it tickled!”
        “...Uh...sorry?” Spike is panting a little.
        Rarity is panting a lot.  She's gasping for breath, blushing, completely flushed.  Her tail is straining at her own muscles, holding itself politely up and to the side, welcoming any guests that might arrive.
        “Was that...was that good?” Spike says.
        Rarity keeps panting, swimming in a light-headed rush of adrenaline.  She barely hears him, barely can keep touch with how time is passing.  Her eyes dart all over his strange body, he's big and powerful and terrifying and she needs more.  Right now.
        Her right eye twitches.  Her thighs quiver, and then she pounces against him with a throaty growl of desire.
        “Whoa!  Mmf!” Spike grabs onto her, more out of defensive reflex than anything.  She locks lips with him, hanging her forelegs around his neck.  She sticks her tongue deep into his huge mouth and feels his tongue flicking against her.  She almost comes right there just from the feel of those awful, terrible fangs against her lips.
        Oh, I am so getting banished to the moon for this.
        She breaks off just long enough to push him to the floor, rolling him onto his back, and then she pounces again.  She leans her arms and chest on him, waving her rump in the air off to the side.  She kisses him over and over again, her back hooves stamping against the rug frantically, rubbing her thighs together.
        Spike just lies there, barely even moving his mouth anymore.  He holds his claws out to the side, completely surrendered.  Rarity sits up a little and stares down at him devilishly.
        “What's the matter, Spike?” she says, relishing his look of astonishment.
        “Uh...duh...uh...” he stammers.
        She runs a hoof in small circles on his chest, marveling at the luxurious feel of his smooth underbelly.
        The dam has broken.  The line has been crossed.  There's no going back, and curiosity has free reign.
        “Rarity, I...” Spike gasps.
        “Shhh.” She leans against his face, pushing their noses together.  “Just kiss me.”
        He swallows loudly, and then he kisses her.
        She holds back, giving him the chance to explore her.  He's clearly never kissed anyone before, kissing like a tender, shy amateur.  Rarity loves it intensely, waiting with bated breath as he slowly slides his tongue into her.  He tentatively flicks the tips against her tongue.  The knees of her hind legs bend inward, cringing around the pulsing wetness between her legs.
        His hand reaches up and strokes her mane, grasping at the loose curls.  He slides it down seamlessly onto her coat, fumbling in a way that feels like he's teasing her.  His claws aren't quite so sharp as they look – the points drag along her smooth white back, but it doesn't hurt.
        She bites his lower lip, forcing his claw to clench in reflex.  It stings a little, but doesn't break the skin.  He pulls his head back, looking worried.
        “What's wrong?” Rarity asks, sighing a little at the feeling of his claw.
        “I - I don't want to hurt you.”
        “Spike...” She laughs a little, almost condescendingly.  “Don't worry.  I'll tell you if something's wrong.”
        He just stares at her in amazement, his mouth hanging open still.  She nuzzles against his neck and nudges his arm with her own, moving his claw up and down her side.  He catches on quickly and starts stroking her coat, holding his fingers back so the points of his claws barely touch her.
        “Spike.” She almost scolds, calling him silly with her tone.  “Use the points.”
        He looks terrified, carefully clenching his claws into her skin.  He rubs back and forth, sending tingles through her body.
        “Ooooh, it's just like getting brushed!” She closes her eyes and moans out loud.  “Spike, that's lovely.”
        She rests her head against his chest and feels him grow more confident, brushing her down her back and side.  Her tail flicks around frantically, while almost nauseous pulses of sexual thrill course through her body at each sharp stroke of his hand.
        He reaches up with his other hand and starts running them down both her sides, pulling a moan from her lungs.  She smiles and starts kissing and nibbling the hot, firm flesh of his neck, wondering at the strange tastelessness of it.
        She feels his neck flex as he leans his head down, and then her limbs give out completely.
        “OH!”
        He's kissing her neck – hot, grunting breaths blast against her coat as those teeth are millimeters away from her vulnerable neck.  His lips kiss and caress, and she slumps against him, going cross-eyed.  Her hips arch and writhe, bucking a little against the air.
        Dear goddess what is wrong with me?
        She tries to muddle some thoughts out in the middle of all this hedonism.  It's not that she doesn't understand the idea here – she's heard of many strange sexual practices, even tried a few of the least naughty ones.  But she's never had anything close to an interest in being hurt.  Occasionally, mares she'd known had admitted to liking being whipped or spanked or tied up or even cut, but she always secretly found it sort of silly.
        She's enjoyed being dominated, in a way.  Nothing wrong with being taken rough by a big, strong male.  But being threatened?  Being in danger?
        Spike leans up against her, sitting up a bit.  He runs one of his claws through her mane tenderly, lovingly.  She moans in response and feels him smile faintly against her neck.
        That can't be it.  Spike would never hurt her, she's in no danger.  He's a complete sweetheart.  A gentle giant.  He worships the very ground she treads on.
        Then what is this?
        He smiles a little wider, opening his mouth.  Hard ivory brushes right against her coat, the points pressing against her neck for just a moment.
        “Uh!” she grunts, her eyes rolling back.  Her head presses into him harder.  Something hot drips down her stifles, literally wetter than she's been in years.
        Hmm.
        He kisses her neck harder.  He's attentive, at least.  He can see that she likes it, even if he doesn't know the full extent of why.
        I don't think I even really understand why...
        She grits her teeth, squeezing him with her forelegs.  Her rump wiggles in the air, bouncing up and down on her restless hooves.
        His lips and claws stop all the wonderful things they're doing.  He sits up.
        “Hmm?” She looks up at him, almost sleepily.
        He's perched on his legs, sort of crouching.  Ah, his tail, he's resting on it.  Spike looks down at her and prepares a question, looking just a little more bold for his successes.
        “Rarity?”
        “Yes?”
        “Can I – M, may I -?”
        Still nervous, though.  She answers immediately, with no idea what he's asking.
        “Of course you may.”
        She gasps as she's lifted into the air, cradled in his thick arms.  He holds her effortlessly, like a rag doll, clutched to his chest.  One arm supports her back, while his other hand cradles her rump most satisfyingly.
        “Oh!  Oh my.” She gives him the sexiest look she can.  “You're so strong, Spike.”
        He beams down at her, sending a thrill through her chest at the sight of those delightful teeth.  She's pressed up against his chest, almost sweating from the heat of his skin.  His arms flex against her, the points of his claws digging in just a little.
        She arches her eyebrows and leans her chin against him, inviting him to pick up where he left off.
        He kisses her, cradling her in his arms.  They make out like that tenderly.  Rarity tries to remember the last time she was this turned on just from kissing, or ever, for that matter.  She comes up blank.
        Spike grows more comfortable every second, grunting into her.  His tongue gets bold, flicking into her mouth and wrapping around her own tongue, amazingly dexterous.  Rarity wonders at all the possibilities there, soaking her tail with her imaginings.
        It's too much.  She can't take it anymore.  
        This is so, so wrong.  For so many reasons.
        It doesn't matter.  Nothing else matters at all.
        “Spike?”
        He was nibbling her neck again, just using his lips.  He pauses.
        “Carry me,” she whispers.
        “Huh?”
        “Upstairs.”
        He turns bright red, as much as he can, at any rate.  He nods dumbly, looking like he won't allow himself to think what she knows he wants to be thinking.
        The room moves around them.  She leans her head against his scales, cooing softly.  He holds her tight as he walks through the dark boutique, his feet making heavy thuds against the floor.
        “Upstairs,” she directs.  “Down the hall, second door -”
        “Same as before?” he interrupts.
        “Why, yes,” she says.
        “I remember.”
        She sighs and smiles deeper, relaxing in his grip.  They glide through darkness and up stairs, and then Spike shoulders his way through a door, bowing his head to fit through.
        A small lamp is on.  Her glass of water from before is still sitting where it was when the doorbell rang.
        “The bed.” She nods at it.
        “The - the bed?” he stammers.
        “Mmhmm.”
        It's a huge canopy bed, usually vastly oversized.  She’s always loved how extravagant it is.  She smirks as she realizes that it's actually going to be practical, for once.
        He lays her down gently and immediately steps back, hovering at the edge of the mattress.  She winds up a disappointed tone.
        “Spike?” she says.  “What are you doing?”
        “Um...” He rubs one forearm, looking completely mortified.  “You want me to...be...with you?”
        She arches an eyebrow at him.
        “In your bed?” he says.
        “No, Spike, we're finished.  You can go now.”
        His jaw drops.
        “I'm joking, silly.  Come over here.”
        She pats the mattress next to her.  He gulps loudly and takes one careful step forward.
        “Isn't this a little...fast?”
        “Aww, Spike...” She almost tears up at his chivalry.  But she quickly puts her game face back on.  “How many years have we known each other?”
        “Uh...a lot, I guess.”
        “Don't you want me?” She almost pouts.
        Spike makes affirmative noises, clearly going insane wondering if he's dreaming or not.
        “Haven't you wanted me for a long time now?” she asks.
        “My whole life,” Spike says, in a trance.  She silently swoons, swimming in the fact that someone actually said those words to her, and meant them.
        “I want you, Spike.”
        He shudders and takes another step closer.  He stops just shy of touching her, looking nerve-wracked all over again.  Rarity is about to tighten the snare when something potentially awful occurs to her.
        “Um...we can...can't we?” she asks.
        “I...I don't know.” Spike glances around.
        “I mean...dragons do have...?” She looks down, arching her eyebrows.
        “Oh gosh!  Yeah...we...but I don't know...”
        She drops all pretenses and inspects him, scrunching up her snout.
        “Where is it?” she asks.
        “Oh!  Uh...it's there.”
        She looks harder, getting more confused every second.  She glances up and Spike is sweating, fidgeting with his claws.  His mouth is moving around, but he's clearly having trouble actually making words.
        “Shhh.” She prods him with a hoof and pushes, sending him standing up straight.  She had expected the mystery to be solved at this point, but she still doesn't see anything between his hind legs.  Just smooth scales.
        “Was I not clear enough?  I was asking about your...ahem...um...”
        “Yeah, I know,” he stammers, looking strangely bashful.  “It's...uh...it's kind of like my pockets.”
        She gestures with her hoof for him to present himself already.  He reaches down, and she prepares for the worst.
        Well at least he still has that tongue.
        She stares openly as he fumbles with a fold of scales, and then...
        “AAAAH!” She jumps up on her hooves, shooting to the edge of the bed.  She tries to climb up her pillows, her tail curling between her legs in defense.
        “Aw jeez.” He cringes.  “It's small, isn't it?  I knew it.”
        “You...you...wha...you...” She can't take her eyes away.  One of her hooves flails around for her glasses, but they're still downstairs.
        “I know.  It's small, for a dragon.  I read it in this one book -”
        “Y- Y- you you have TWO?!” she sputters, ignoring whatever idiocy he was saying.
        “Huh?  Oh, yeah.  You didn't know that about dragons?”
        She gasps and stutters, stamping her hooves into her pillows.
        “Technically, it's one with a dual...”
        “BIG.  Big.  My goodness,” she says breathlessly.
        “Yeah?” Spike's face lights up.  “Uh...yeah.  Heh.  Sure.”
        She starts to catch her breath, still staring at it.  Them?  She floats the glass of water over and gulps some down loudly, frowning in aroused fear.
        “So...do you still want to...?” Spike looks to her, desperate not to trip so close to the finish line.
        “Ah ha.  Ha...oh.  Oh my.” She takes another drink of water, then sets the glass on the floor.  “Well.  Let's...let's have a look at you, shall we?”
        She creeps back to her spot on the bed, still staring at her new guests.
        Goodness, he's bigger than any stallion I've seen...
        It makes sense, darling.  It's generally proportional to body size, isn't it?
        Yes but...but...oh my...
        She sits before him, staring even harder.  They're pink and thick, with weird, rounded heads.  Instead of veins, knobbly bumps run down the length of each.  They're still clearly genitals, not different enough to be totally alien.  But...
        Rarity gulps loudly.  Part of her wants to run screaming.  Part of her is wondering how this is supposed to even work.  Part of her can't decide which one she wants first.
        “My word,” she mutters, still a little breathless.  She tears her eyes away and up.  Spike is grinning, born anew.  It's funny how one small shift in perspective can have such monumental effect.
        “I guess they would be big for a pony.  I don't know why I never thought of it like that,” he says.  She titters at his obliviousness.
        “You're so silly.  Here I am quaking in fear that they might be too big and you're wallowing in insecurity.”
        “Too big?!” He gasps in horror.
        “Oh no.” She smiles with hunger.  “Oh no, no, no.  Not quite.”
        Spike sighs with relief.  She pauses, despite her reassurances.  She's back to staring at them, wondering if they really might be too big.  Not that big is bad, but...this might be a bit uncomfortable, actually.  Being stretched wide by one of those huge, knobbed, club-like...
        Her tail spasms violently.  She can feel herself winking, begging for it.
        But it's going to hurt!
        Her hoof starts to reach out unconsciously.  Just imagining the coming pain is making her drench the bed.
        Dear Princess what is WRONG with me?
        This is so strange.  It's depraved.  Degenerate.  Deviant.
        Nopony has to know.
        They're both hard as diamonds, quivering and throbbing.  Pointed right at her.
        “Do you...what should I...I've never done this before,” Spike admits the obvious.
        Rarity snaps out of her trance, shooting her hoof up, onto his chest again.
        “Shhh.” She leans her forelegs on him, feeling precarious with her belly poised right over his twin spikes.  She kisses him briefly on the lips and pulls him down onto all fours again.  She turns around and flicks her damp tail right in his snout, watching his reaction over her shoulder.  It's priceless.
        “I want you to make love to me, Spike.”
        He blinks rapidly, his jaw hanging slack.  She winks and flexes her hindquarters in the air, trying to hold a demure, innocent look.  He slowly reaches forward, hypnotized by so many of his dreams coming true all at once.
        Something’s missing.
        What?  What could possibly be…
        Ideeeeeeeea!
        “Wait!”
        He freezes and frowns, ready to be thrown out after all.
        “Sorry.  One moment.  Really, just one moment…I’ll be RIGHT back.”
        She dives off the bed, much more spry then usual, feeling hot tears of excitement from the movement of her thighs.  She hasn’t worn it in ages, but it’s somewhere.  She knows it’s somewhere.
        “Um…” she hears Spike say.
        “Just hold on.”
        She dives deep into a jewelry box on her bureau almost frantically, digging through priceless works of art, not even glancing at them.  
        Her heart almost stops its pounding when she sees the red velvet of the box’s bottom.  Her body is screaming at her, ordering her to jump back into that bed and just get some satisfaction already.
        No, dig to the side, it has to be...
        “Ah ha!” she yells out loud.
        She slips it around her neck and turns to Spike, posing tall and proud.  The look on his face as he recognizes it is deeply pleasing to her, a mix of utter astonishment and reverent lust.
        “One of the kindest acts I ever experienced,” she says.
        He stammers incoherence.  She can almost see the heart-shaped ruby reflected in his eyes, framed by the blazing shine of well-polished gold.
        She climbs back onto the bed and repeats her previous performance, flicking her tail and posing just for him.
        “That’s better.  NOW I want you to make love to me,” she says with a victorious smirk.
        She instantly feels his claws on the curve of her rump, his fingers tensed.  Her heart leaps into her throat, every nerve tingling in thrilled anticipation.  She hides her face against the bed, not wanting him to see the wince she can't hide.  It's an excited wince – she's smiling and almost silently squealing in joy – but still a wince.
        “Oh!”
        She gasps as she's lifted into the air, again, as if she weighs nothing.  Spike flips her over, gently, and lays her down on her back.
        “Like this?” she says.
        “I want to see your face.”
        She swoons, actually putting a hoof to her forehead.  Her display is cut off shortly as Spike climbs over her, looming over her, wings unfurled.  He looks HUGE, in every way, trapping her under the burning heat of his body.
        He leans down and kisses her, long and tender, sending waves of hot need through her body all over again.  She's panting rapidly, legs spread slightly.  Her hooves feel along his scales absentmindedly, her whole being yawning in anticipation.  Everything is that dripping, burning spot between her legs, demanding satisfaction.
        Spike looks down and up and down again.  He looks worried, now that part A and part B are easier to compare.
        “Are you...are you sure?” he says.
        Rarity gasps out some frustrated nonsense, nodding angrily.
        “I don't want to hurt you.”
        “Just DO it, Spike!  Ravage me!” she almost yells, striking his solid chest with one of her hooves.
        His eyes go wide.  He obeys.
        “Eeeep!” she squeaks as he presses against her, all composure gone.  She shakes all over – finally, finally, FINALLY there's pressure against her entrance, being touched where it's been needed most.
        Spike lets out a mighty growl, his whole face settling into bliss even as one of his heads is just barely pressing into her.  She grips his arms tightly with her own, holding her breath.
        He slides forward.  The rounded tip helps, spreading her lips easily.  Her own arousal helps more – he glides in almost smoothly, stretching her open.
        “Oh...MY!  SPIKE!” she growls out, throwing her head back and closing her eyes.  His head is barely inside her, and her flanks are quivering, her thighs straining to spread wider.
        “Are you okay?” he asks.
        “YES!  Yes, yes, yes!” She pulls at his arms, thrashing her head side to side.  Spike pushes forward, gently.  He reaches down with one hand and pulls his extra member up, letting it slide along the top of her mound, jutting out into the air.
        Rarity's eyes pop open.  The head is all the way in, she’s stretched in a perfect, tight circle around him.  His extra shaft pulses and presses, shivering right against her clit.
        He pushes again.  Rarity moans and yells out something extraordinarily unladylike.
        “Rarity!” Spike looks embarrassed.  She almost scowls at him but catches herself, managing a weak, apologetic smile.  
        She's losing her mind.  One huge maleness is driving into her, while the other is sliding against her sensitive button, bumping with its knobs.  She's right on the edge of an incredible orgasm, she can feel it coiled up tight in her lower belly, waiting to strike.
        He pushes with his hips again.  The first bump of his shaft stretches one of her lips even wider, and she gasps loudly.  He stops.
        “Slowly!  Slowly.” She grits her teeth, her chest heaving.
        He nods and pushes smoothly, agonizingly slow, sliding into her by the millimeter.  She feels every bump along his length individually stretch as it enters and then slides along her inner walls.
        He enters her for hours, days, years even.  She feels like she could lie here for at least twice that long, teetering on the brink.  Everything below her chest feels tight, stretched, full to the breaking point.
        “AAAH!” she yelps in real pain.  Rather than slide further in, his last bit of push slid her whole body along the sheets.
        “Sorry!” he gasps, halting his advance.  “Are you okay?”
        She whimpers and moans, her mouth hanging open.  She nods weakly, her eyes unfocused.
        “Is that...are you -?” Spike mutters.
        She pulls herself together a bit and looks down.  All she sees is his second member looking back at her, but she would guess she's still a few inches shy of taking all of him.
        And he can go no further, no doubt about that.  It feels like his dick is tickling the back of her throat.  The last push hurt, when he bottomed out.  But with him just resting inside her, throbbing and burning, it feels absolutely divine.
        She looks back up at him, nodding for him to get things moving again.  His eyes flash, and he pulls back.
        For some strange reason, it's on the first out stroke that she comes.
        Perhaps it's the bumps of his second cock running along her clit, or the amazing squeezing inside her as he leaves empty space behind, but whatever it is, she climaxes immediately.
        “Uh!  Uh!  Uh!” she grunts and gasps, high-pitched and out of control.  He's left his head inside, and her mound is trying desperately to hold on to it, to choke it into submission.
        “Whoa!” Spike's eyes go wide.  He growls and snarls, blowing wisps of steam from his nostrils.  He glares, just a little feral, and drives back into her, forcing her clenching muscles apart.
        She can't even make noise any more.  She just makes quiet, choking little gasps, her mouth hanging open in the best shock of her life.
        He strokes out again, then in again.  He finds a smooth, slow rhythm easily, quite the little natural.  He even stops himself just short of pushing too far.
        It feels like she's coming with each stroke.  It's incredible – she can't even breath, much less think or move.  Her forelegs tremble, clinging to his thick, scaly arms, but she doesn't feel any of that.  Every sensation she experiences is centered around her crotch.  His hot, thick phallus sliding in and out and in.  His second phallus stroking up and down her nub, teasing it with each bump.
        Spike makes love to her smoothly, almost calmly.  He picks up speed a little and holds there, stroking into her as steadily as the seasons.  Her whole body keeps shaking, begging for more, reveling in this ridiculous, rolling, continuous orgasm.  She keeps choking, no air moving through her open mouth.  Darkness starts to creep in on the edges of her blurred vision.
        “GAAAAHHHOOoooooohhhhhh...” she gasps loudly and moans, remembering to breath.  She sucks in air, gulping it down in great greedy pants even as Spike keeps tending to her, not faltering in the slightest.  Her eyes focus.  She comes down just a little, still floating high on that throbbing, hard fullness inside her.
        This is still going?  How has he not finished?
        She winces in pleasure, feeling tingles of another small orgasm shiver up and down her spine.
        He's a virgin, for pony's sake.  Well, WAS a virgin...
        She shivers again, sweating all over.  She's not sure how much more of this she can take.
        Well?  Are you just going to lie there, dear?  Is there finally a male who really can overcome the beauty of one Rarity?
        She glares, flaring her nostrils.  She shoots one hoof down to his exposed cock and strokes it up and down frantically, running her hoof over his bumps.
        “Gah!” He growls again.  He picks up his pace, making the curls of her mane bounce with each thrust.
        Rarity keeps trying to stroke him, but she weakens and trails off quickly.  She can't hold it – he's overwhelming her.  She surrenders, lying back and looking up into his intense green eyes.
        He locks gaze with her, pounding into her now.  Her thighs ache, still spread and sticking up into the air.  She feels the tremors of another huge orgasm forming in her belly, coiling just above the dragon thrusting inside her.
        I can't...I can't, I just can't...
        She can't even move, can barely think.  She feels drained.  Either he needs to finish, or she needs...
        “Spike!”
        He halts instantly, raising his eyebrows at her.
        “S...Spike...hold on...for a moment...please...”
        He nods obediently.  He pulls out of her, less gently than she would've liked, making her gasp at the sudden emptiness.  She collapses instantly, rolling onto her side.
        “You okay?” he asks, still looming over her.
        “Ha!  Haha.  Ahem.  Yes.” She gifts him a satisfied smile.  “I just need to catch my breath.” She feels sore, yearning but sore.  She pants lightly.
        “Oh.” Spike is panting a little himself, standing at attention over her.
        She glances down at him.  They're still perfectly erect, side by side.  One is slick with her own satisfaction, the other just a little wet at the tip.
        If we use the other one – but that still leaves one out in the wind...
        She can't shake the feeling that she's losing, somehow.  Defeated.  She tries to puzzle it out.
        He should've come instantly.  He's been dreaming of this for years, hasn't he?
        Perhaps she can use her tongue on one of them while he -?
        Are you mad?  I don't think you were ever that flexible.
        Then what?
        It's not as if I have two -
        She freezes.  Spike runs a claw up and down her side, oblivious to her inner monologue.  She purrs and stretches as he brushes her, trying not to blush at her thoughts.
        No.  No, that's naughty.  You naughty, naughty mare.
        She'd tried that once, some time ago.
        Somepony had a very happy birthday that year.
        She hadn't particularly enjoyed it.  But then again, that particular stallion wasn't...
        Yes but - you want to try and put THAT?  THERE?
        Well why not?  Spike isn't all that much bigger than he was.
        “Spike?” she says nonchalantly.
        “Hmm?” He doesn't look up from brushing her.
        “I was just thinking - since you...have two...” she trails off, dragging her tail suggestively over her rump.  She lifts it to the side right as he looks, leaving no doubt as to her proposal.  Spike looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel or two.
        “Would you like to try?” she says, putting her considerable talent at sexy looks to use.
        “You – wha - really?” Spike fidgets, managing to look nervous somehow.
        Rarity takes that as a yes.  She uses her magic to rummage through her nightstand, digging through some of her more unmentionable accessories.  She pulls out a small, delicate jar, easily mistaken for ointment, or perhaps some kind of make up.
        “Turn around,” she says.
        “Huh?”
        “Don't look.  I have to apply this to...uh...myself.”
        He does so, obviously feeling a little silly.  She takes care of business grudgingly.
        COLD why does it always feel so cold?
        “Alright.  I'm ready for you.”
        He turns around, and inspiration strikes.  Without asking, she uses her magic to slather a generous amount of the unmentionable product onto his twin malehoods.
        “Whoa!” He jolts.  “Cold!  That tickles.”
        “Mmm.” She smiles dreamily, lost for a moment in the feel of his lengths sliding against her horn.  It quickly passes as she feels his claws again – one on her rump, the other on her thigh, lifting one of her legs into the air.  Lying on her side, she's lined up perfectly for both of him.  He hovers there, inches from complete satisfaction.
        “Are you going to take me now?” She eggs him on, playing up the blushing, innocent maiden tone.
        He grunts, dancing his eyes from her eyes to his target and back.
        “Such a bold young man,” she says, as if he had suggested this.  Her nervousness peeks out of her eyes just a little.
        “Whatever you ask, m’lady.” Spike almost grins.  
        He leans over her, pressing against both holes.  One claw leaves her rump and supports his upper body, sinking into the mattress next to her head.  His face is right over her, his eyes glinting.
        She drops her head onto the sheets, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes again.  His round heads are probing at her, resting against her tightest hole and on her still quivering, slick folds.  He pushes forward.
        “AH!  Slowly!  Slowly.” She sinks her hooves into the bed, tensing up.
        No, that won't do!  Relax, darling!
        She tries, unsuccessfully.  Fortunately, the lubricant does its job.
        “OhhhhhhhhHHHHH!” She groans uncharacteristically deep, almost yelling.  Spike slides into both her passages, snarling and grunting, clearly a little overwhelmed as well.
        This would be incredible if it was only her anus being entered, stretched wide by something huge and hot and hard.  As things are, it's almost too much – she moans and whimpers and squeals as he pushes further, steadily invading her.
        It hurts, concentrated on the crushed bit of her vised between him.  Both of her inner passages are looking for somewhere to stretch to, and finding nowhere to go.  The feelings are more than doubled, quadrupled, multiplied by some unknown and irrational number.  She just lies there, giving herself completely.
        She feels his burning breath against her neck as he snarls loudly, mingling with the smooth cold of the necklace.  He pushes as if he wasn't turning her inside out, heedless to how much smaller and tighter her second hole is.  It's almost agonizing, she's forced open in one hole even as the other welcomes him back gladly.
        “GAH!” she yells as he bottoms out again.  She crushes her eyes closed, waiting for him to really get going.
        And then he does.
        She shrieks in ecstasy with his first stroke, holding it through the second, trailing off and gasping for breath and then shrieking more as he fucks her again and again and again.  Her hind legs tremble violently.  Her forelegs twitch against the sheets, making the motions of running.
        It feels incredible, agonizing, wonderful.  Spike blasts into her, more rapidly than before, grunting with each stroke.  He slides deep into her, stretching both her holes wide.  She screams and babbles and whips her head and tail around frantically.
        She forces her eyes open, her face contorted in pleasurable pain.  Spike is right above her, his head bobbing up and down as he pounds her, giving her what she's begging for, even if only by instinct.  She weakly flails one of her forelegs at him, trying to hook his neck.  He gets the message and leans in close, brushing his lips against her neck just above the metal.
        Her pupils dilate.  Her face freezes.  His hot breath washes over her fragile neck, those shining fangs right behind it.  They're right there, gleaming in her vision, slick with hunger.
        Somehow, impossibly, the muscles in her hips clench.  She moans and wails as she starts coming again, covered in cold sweat and lather.  Her heart is full of helium, pounding against her ribs.  She tenses up, holding her body mostly still.
        He caresses her neck carefully with his lips, just barely brushing her with his teeth.  She whimpers with each gasping breath, drowning in pure animal pleasure.  If she could think, she would think something pithy about how she's never felt anything like it.
        He ruts her still, only having an easier time as her body stretches to accommodate him.  She revels in every violent penetration, clenching two tight tunnels around the hard knobs of his cocks.  He plunges in and out, over and over, driving her mad.  Her clit quivers like a live wire, engorged and flushed.
        She pants in panic, the whites of her eyes huge.  Spike kisses her lovingly, lost in the soft, pure white of her neck.
        She's going insane.  From somewhere deep and solid she draws the strength to speak.
        “Spike!”
        He mumbles something affirmative.
        “Are you going to finish?!” she gasps out in anxious ecstasy.  She's exhausted, tears leaking from her eyes, she can't take much more.
        “Oh.  You want me to?” he says.  Almost calm.
        “What?!”
        “I didn't before.  You looked like you wanted more.”
        “What?!”
        “Yeah, that’s kind of a dragon thing, too.”
        “WHAT?!”
        “You want me to now?”
        “YES!”
        She screams desperately, still panting.
        “Where should I -?”
        “Wherever you want, just DO IT!”
        It's far from her usual answer.  Spike's face flushes with excitement and he glares manfully, snarling against her.  He pounds her mercilessly, thrusting deep through both her tunnels, growling as he pushes.
        Rarity turns her torso, wrapping Spike's neck in her arms and pinning him to her.  She's almost completely gone, destroyed, hollowed out and replaced by two thrusting totems of dragon virility.  She's still coming, every muscle exhausted but unable to stop shaking and clenching and carrying on, every thought in her mind filled with those terrifying teeth pressing up against her soft, vulnerable flesh, every noise she makes a high-pitched squeal of...
        Spike roars in her ear, deafening.  He makes one last thrust and holds, quivering inside her.  She makes one last whimper.
        It burns.  He fills her instantly, squirting what feels like gallons.  It actually feels like it's stretching her further, dribbling out along the sides of his cocks with audible spurts.  She screams, unhinged and unrestrained.
        He pours out inside her, grunting and moaning.  His claws dig into the mattress, tearing gashes through her sheets.  He roars one last time and finally, finally, stops coming.
        He holds himself over her, panting with a big, goofy smile on his face.  She keeps shaking, letting her scream trail off.  She can feel trickles of his seed running down the curve of her ass, leaving burning trails.  She's still coming, she thinks, maybe, it's hard to tell, her whole body is still shaking.
        He collapses onto her, and now she really can't breath.
        “Mmmf!  MmmMMMM!”
        Her muffled whimpers make him jump up, still sliding around inside her.  The tugging inside her hips makes her squeal again.
        “Sorry!  Sorry.” Spike looks mortified, and he gingerly pulls his twin selves out of her.
        Rarity's eyes go wide.  His cocks slide out of her with a pop that she imagines in her head, and then it gushes out of her, pouring down her flank.  She makes fluttery, panicked noises as the initial flow trails off into a trickle, tickling and burning inside her.
        Spike slumps onto the bed next to her, breathing heavily.  She sits up and her mind goes aghast, just as it was starting to be able to have thoughts again.  She can't take her eyes off the mess all over her sheets and her rump and her tail and oh dear goodness what how?
        “Wow – wow!” Spike pants out, staring off into space.
        Rarity makes more panicked noises that Spike easily mistakes for moans of pleasure.
        “Rarity, that was - ” He turns to her, no doubt to take her in his arms and cuddle her.  Then he sees the look on her face.  He follows her gaze.
        “Oh...wow.” He looks almost proud for a moment.  “Don't worry.  It's not like you're going to start laying eggs, right?”
        WHAT
        She turns to him in complete horror.
        “I - wha – e…e…eggs?”
        “Uh, I was kidding.  That's pretty impossible.”
        She starts to sigh in relief.
        “I think.”
        Her face contorts into no recognizable emotion.  It goes over his head, and he starts to put an arm around her.
        Rarity pushes him away.  She clambers over to the edge of the bed and, in a dainty and most ladylike fashion, vomits up her lunch.



        She apologized profusely, of course.  Repeatedly.  Endlessly.  They both did.
        She could barely move, after all that.  She had to ask Spike to carry her into the shower.  He stood in there with her, holding her.  The hot water turned to steam the moment it hit his scales.  Her own private sauna.
        After a few minutes of that, she felt up to cleaning herself.  Spike graciously gave her privacy.  He's already picking up on what she wants at times, without it even being said.
        When she dragged herself out of the bathroom, almost dead with exhaustion, Spike had cleaned everything up.  He even put new sheets on the bed.  He carried her the rest of the way wordlessly.
        She's resting against him now, comfortable in her fresh bed.  She tossed her bathrobe off right away – the whole bed is warm, heat wafting into her from his rising and falling chest.  They don't even need a blanket.  His wing does nicely.
        “Rarity?”
        They haven't spoken much past the apologies.  She opens her tired eyes.
        “I understand if you...if you...if I grossed you out or something...”
        “Spike.”
        Scolding him again.
        “You have no reason to feel like that,” she says very seriously.  “That was the best lovemaking I've ever had the pleasure of receiving.”
        He looks awe-struck.
        “Really?” he says.
        “Mmmm.” She dreamily rubs against his scales.
        “But you...puked.”
        “Well, you said the e-word.  We're not going to use the e-word from now on.”
        “Right.  No problem.”
        He seems satisfied.  She watches him, his purple scales faintly reflecting the starlight streaming in through the window.
        “Spike?”
        He raises his eyebrows.
        “Would you...will you stay here?  With me?” she asks.
        “Of course.  If you want,” he says instantly.  “Do you mean just tonight, or...?”
        “I'm not really sure.” She laughs a little.  “You would give up on your duties with Twilight?”
        “If you asked?  I...I...maybe.”
        She pauses, shocked that he would even consider it.  For her.  She flutters her eyes, suppressing happy tremors in her heart.
        “I won't ask that.  I couldn’t,” she says.  “Will you come back, though?  When you're not busy?”
        “Just try and stop me.” He grins wickedly.
        She rests a hoof against his side, almost crying.  She's never felt so adored, never known a lover so devoted.  He's a one-in-a-million, true blue gentlecolt.
        In the body of a dragon.
        ...Details.
        She sighs and leans her tired head against him.  He stares at her with worship in his eyes, slowly closing them.
        She yawns quietly.  She closes her eyes, slipping away in warm, soft, comfort.
        In her mind, she pulls up the list.  She's about to add his name to it, at the top of course, when she gets a better idea.
        She crumples it up.  She throws it away.
        It really only needed to hold one name, anyway.