More than One Way to Please a Lady
More than One Way to Please a Lady
by Clavier
It had been a very long time since Spike had moved to Ponyville, and time changes all things. What childlike wonder he had sadly lost in the intervening years had been replaced by a gentle maturity, a soft-spoken kindness that willfully defied the nature of his otherwise brash species, and a keen but subtle brilliance that rendered him a delightful and intuitive conversationalist. With Rarity, his inappropriate lust of youth had faded into a respectful, albeit begrudgingly accepted, friendship, and this friendship was closer than most. The only tragedy of his now well-established pubescence was that his successful amity with Rarity had never allowed room for true love, whether expressed by the deepest of emotions or that more literally deep physical act, with anypony– or, for that matter, anyone.
Rarity was hardly unaware of this state of affairs. She cherished their friendship, but felt in some ways responsible for holding him back. One’s foalhood crushes are by tradition kept distant, and allowed to fade into a happy nostalgia instead of this awkward sort of cherished but unromantic truce. By keeping Spike in her circle of friends, she had kept him more distant from potential suitresses, or suitors as the case may be. And those potential suitresses should have been plentiful.
When distracted from the sheer taboo nature of such a relationship, nopony with even the slightest inclinations towards stallions, or male creatures in general, could deny Spike’s attractive prowess. Although relatively small for a dragon, his stature, somewhat larger than even the largest of ponies, was impressive, and complemented by a physique that exuded power. His scales had darkened into a deep purple that shone brilliantly, and he spoke in a soothing baritone; he was regularly the center of attention whether he wanted to be or not. With all of that, plus the perfectly balanced abilities to be brave and brash, and yet gentle and kind, he was everything anypony could want in a stallion. Except, of course, for being a stallion.
It was with these thoughts that Rarity came to a bewildering realization: She would never have intentionally condemned a creature of his substantial virtues to the purgatory of eternal friendship. Had their situation been different, had they met later in Spike’s un-pony-like maturation process, or had Spike not been so infatuated with her in his youth, she would have been head-over-hooves for him. She had long since learned not to seek out her idyllic Prince Charming, and yet this friend, who she had known nearly his entire life, was everything that a proverbial Prince Charming should be, with only the minor exception of his species.
Was that so important? Did it really matter?
Should love be so bounded?
No, she had resolved. It should not.
With this conclusion confirmed, reconsidered, then confirmed once more, she set herself to act on it. She knew that Spike never would; she had unwittingly crushed the part of him that wished to years ago. She only hoped that some embers of that former longing remained. Although allowing herself to get lost in this newfound infatuation gave her heart a flutter she hadn’t experienced in many years, she was sure that if he had no spark left, it would be she who was crushed this time. A life without risks is, however, a life not worth living.
“Spike?”
“Hiya, Rarity!” The lilt that had decorated his voice when speaking to her in years prior was gone, and his simple, platonic greeting nearly made Rarity reconsider her decision. But she was too far gone now; her resolve might waver, but it would not break.
“Spike, could we speak? In private?”
He was unaccustomed to these tones coming from his good friend, but nonetheless indulged her. “Oh, of course.”
They retreated to a private corner of the library. Twilight Sparkle had left the old Ponyville library in his capable claws when she’d moved on to teach at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. With any other pony, this would have been a teary farewell, but Twilight popped in regularly with unannounced flashes of bright magenta light, making it seem as if she’d never left at all. Her years of study had rendered her nearly omnipresent, establishing the very notion of farewell, as she had put it, “moot.” Even so, she couldn’t both teach and maintain the little library in a distant village, so Spike was more than willing to take on the latter role.
“Spikey,” Rarity had removed the “Wikey” component of this term of endearment when he’d grown bigger than she, “how long have we known each other?”
“Wow.” Spike made no attempt to hide his surprise at the question. “Years, my whole adult life. Why?”
She bit her lip, unsure how to broach the subject. “And… after all these years of wonderful friendship we’ve shared… how do you feel about me? About us?”
His eyes widened in some unreadable mix of surprise and sentimentality. This was answer enough for her to go on.
“When you were much younger, you had a sort of adorable infatuation with me… but I’m afraid that while you’ve grown into a stunning example of the masculine form, I’ve wilted into a weathered echo of my former beauty.” It wasn’t true, but neither was her statement of it an attempt to beguile him into a sympathetic state. Her business as a couturier had never really boomed as she’d hoped it would, and much of the bravado and self confidence she’d once had was lost. She was insecure, lonely, and, although she wouldn’t let it stop her, terrified of rejection. Her heart pounded in her chest and it took great effort to keep her legs solid and planted, but she pressed on, unwilling to let these fears undermine what she was realizing may very well be her last chance at love. “Is… is there anything left, Spike? Anything more than our… platonic friendship?”
He was stunned. Beyond stunned. He grasped for words but found none, resorting to a feeble nod in their stead.
She smiled softly, some of her confidence restored. “I’m sorry that I never took your feelings seriously, Spike. I’ve been downright unforgivable… but I hope, perhaps, that you can forgive me anyway?”
He could hardly move, and certainly couldn’t speak. He thought it insane that she would be asking for his forgiveness, but couldn’t express that. He just nodded again, numbly.
“Perhaps,” she continued, now quiet and less assured, “some time we could have dinner together? Just the two of us?”
Spike nearly used the same weak nod once more, but managed to eke out something more. “You mean… a date?” His usual sonority was gone, replaced by a contratenor squeak not unlike the voice of his youth.
“A date.”
Rarity looked into his eyes, her blue orbs wide and just a bit moist. He lost his tongue once more. All he could do was nod.
Their date had been vastly more successful than either could have hoped. So had their second, and their third. Spike had never let his maturity and intelligence entirely rid him of his playful nature, and he now revealed it to her like a long-hidden gift. It was effective; she was enamored, and he was as well. Their years of friendship had set a solid foundation that enabled rather than hindered the growth of closer feelings.
Upon the terminus of their third date, a play which would have been insufferable if not for each other’s presence, they strolled through Ponyville’s cobbled streets as Celestia’s last rays lazily warmed their backs. Some small and since-forgotten comment of Spike’s brought a fluttering laugh to Rarity’s lips, and she leaned into her beau, enjoying their company. It was surprisingly comfortable, leaning against him. He had such strength, and although he wasn’t especially warm, being a cold blooded animal, his scaly exterior belied an unexpected softness. She enjoyed being with him. She enjoyed their simple touch.
But she wanted something more.
Their walk led them to the spot at which they usually parted ways. Today, she wouldn’t allow it. “Spikey,” she cooed, with only the smallest hint of trepidation, “would you like to come back to the Boutique with me?”
Spike was a well-spoken dragon with a typically unflappable manner, so Rarity was always overjoyed when she managed to fluster him. This was one of those times. Rather than waiting for his eventual response, she simply began her walk towards her home, gingerly swaying her hips as she walked with unambiguous intent. Even if she had been leading him to the slathering jaws of Cerberus, he would have followed willingly, a machine pulled by basal nature without fear or thought of consequence. Thankfully, she had wholly more pleasant intentions for both of them.
When the door of the Carousel Boutique was shut and locked, and Rarity had assured that no filly interlopers would interrupt them, she dropped all pretense and thrust herself into the awaiting claws of the stallion of her dreams, be he a stallion or not. Kissing Spike was joyous and unique, as his lips were completely dry, but neither sticky nor hard. They were smooth to the touch, like a gemstone. In many ways, in fact, it was like kissing a soft gem, and she allowed that illusion to carry her a bit farther than perhaps she ought to have. But it was a flat kiss; she'd momentarily risked intruding with her tongue, but judged that his rather sharp fangs were a daunting obstacle. However, she thought, that was no reason for the reverse to be withheld.
Pulling away, she airily whispered into his ear, “You can use tongue, you know.”
He was more than willing to comply.
Spike's tongue was, frankly, enormous. Round, thick, warm and bulbous, it protruded deep into her mouth only with some effort on both parts. This kiss felt less like a kiss than a rather more intimate act she had only had fleeting experience with, though one for which she was now considering Spike's eligibility in a new light. Either way, it drove her wild. With the heat rising between her thighs and moisture now dripping to her knees, she determined that this had been foreplay enough, and she was ready, willing, and perhaps even begging for the main event. She pulled away, twisted herself around, knelt on her forelegs and, lifting her tail, presented herself willingly to her lover.
Spike made an incomprehensible sound and an unintended lick of dragon fire warmed her posterior, causing her to elicit a moan somewhere between pleasure and pain. “S– sorry!” he cried out at this mistake, but it had only driven Rarity's lust further. She stiffened her hind legs, indicating that he should continue.
His claws wrapped around her midsection. In spite of how gentle he was trying to be, they dug slightly into her. It was invigorating. He put as little of his weight on her as he could manage, but even as such, he was simply a very large specimen of manhood, and her hind knees quivered under his weight. Even this was exhilarating. She did everything in her power to prepare herself for what she expected to be a uniquely intense experience, closed her eyes, and swallowed hard.
She pulled in a breath, and he thrust. The feeling was…
Nothing.
Just… nothing.
He was going through all the proper and requisite actions, he was keeping good rhythm and good weight, by all respects he was doing everything right, and yet…
There was nothing.
Something was missing. Something quite important to this sort of behavior.
Spike could sense that something was wrong, even though by his understanding of what few lessons Twilight had managed to give him on dragon sexuality, everything was going properly. He had no idea what the problem was, and yet he felt embarrassed, ashamed, and emasculated, and dismounted with a muttered, “I'm sorry… I– I just don't know what's wrong…”
Rarity was confused, but mostly just felt pity. What lust she'd entered this moment with had faded quickly and quietly. “Spike… Spikey… oh, my, I'm not sure exactly how to put this…”
She turned to him and spoke very softly, with the shaky cadence of a pony overwrought with sudden trepidation. “You are quite sure that you're a male dragon, yes?”
He backed away, eyes widening. “What? Of course! What else would I be?!”
Peeking underneath his powerful frame, she confirmed her suspicions. No, it wasn't merely hidden away, tucked under scales or skin. Where she'd expected something, and frankly something quite large and enticing, instead she found only flat, green scales. She had no idea what to say, baffled by this wholly unexpected development. So instead, she just looked up again, staring at him quizzically.
Even though he still didn't understand what was happening, Spike was more ashamed than he'd ever been. Pain in his eyes, he made a quick escape with only a short muttered apology as farewell. Rarity considered following him, but it felt as if her hooves were glued to the ground. She didn't know what to do.
That night, she didn’t go to her bed. She lay on a plush couch and thought, carefully. The only conclusion she could come to was an unpleasant one. There was only one pony who could explain, only one pony who could even start to make things right.
She would have to talk to Twilight about this.
“Twilight?”
It had been difficult to find a time when Spike wasn't in the library, especially as he and Rarity had been avoiding each other since their botched sexual foray. Still, the library was one place that Twilight Sparkle nearly always monitored, and as such, it was the best way to get in contact with her in a hurry. There was always the possibility, however, that she would be teaching or otherwise occupied.
“Twilight?” Rarity's voice echoed through the dark room, and for an instant she was sure this was a bad time.
“Hey Rarity, what's up?”
She nearly jumped out of her skin. “Twilight! You startled me!” After a few deep breaths, she continued. “You really oughtn't to sneak up on ponies like that.”
Twilight's voice carried remorse, but subverted by her light chuckle. “I'm sorry, Rarity. What do you need?”
Rarity furrowed her brow in consideration. This would have been an overly personal revelation with anypony else, but with Twilight it was nearly too close a subject to broach at all. Twilight was in many ways like Spike's mother, in spite of their apparent age now being about the same, and had never been informed, let alone allowed to approve, of Rarity and Spike's romance.
“Twilight… mmm, I fear I should have sought your blessings, and I didn't. For that I am sorry.”
Twilight only raised an eyebrow and flattened her ears in response.
Deciding there was no purpose in dancing around the subject, Rarity stood tall and spoke her peace. “Spike and I have been dating.”
An entirely incomprehensible expression found its way to Twilight's face, and she spoke in a low tone which may have been anger or just profound surprise. “I'm not sure how I feel about that, Rarity.”
“I'm afraid that's not even why I'm here, dar–” she halted her usual affectionate term, realizing that this was not the time, “Twilight.”
Now in the role of a defensive mother, Twilight's expression changed to unamused pensiveness. She again didn't reply.
“You see, Spike and I… a few nights ago, things became a bit… intimate. And, well…” her voice trailed off, unable to find an appropriate series of words.
Twilight's expression jumped violently from extreme to extreme, starting with shock, then confusion, then a small and well hidden look of pride in her “son,” then anger, then wide-eyed realization. Her cheeks burned bright red with empathized embarrassment. “Ohhh. Oh, Rarity. Oh…”
She knew.
She opened her mouth once more to talk, but decided on a more formal introduction. Even though the library had been out of her control for years, she knew where every single book was, including the one she was looking for. She dashed to a far corner, igniting every light as she went in an unthinking display of incredible magical prowess. With a quick glance over the shelf above her, she found the book, and lowered it to her in a magenta aura. She lifted it to a table near Rarity, where the latter's heart dropped slightly at the prosaic title.
Comparative Sexual Anatomy.
Twilight flipped it open and ran quickly over the table of contents before deciding on chapter 3. She moved to that page, where Rarity couldn't help but giggle at the chapter title.
A Brief Introduction to Male Genitalia.
Twilight shushed the inappropriate laughter and speed-read a few pages, skipping over an assortment of diagrammatic comparisons of all male forms to Rarity's usual preference, that of ponies. Finally, she found a chapter sub-heading she was looking for.
Other Forms of Male Reproductive Anatomy.
That didn't sound promising to Rarity. Twilight hoofed the book over and pointed at a paragraph. Unsure, Rarity read it.
The phallus, i.e. a penis engorged by blood, is a unique feature of mammalian physiology. For the remainder of this chapter, we will focus on non-mammalian forms, in particular those of reptiles and birds. Reptiles may be divided into three groups: those with penises engorged by lymph or simple muscle contractions, including crocodiles and tortoises; those with a morphologically similar but distinct organ, the hemipene, which includes lizards; and cloacal animals, who possess no external genitalia. Birds are taxonomically included in the latter group, although several have independently evolved similar organs, which will be discussed as special cases in a later chapter.
After that dense nightmare of text, she was barely willing to read the next sentences. But she knew she had to. She had to know.
Dragons, being the closest living reptilian relative of birds, are suspected to possess no external genitalia of any description. However, no successful study of dragon reproduction has ever been performed by ponies.
She knew what she had read, but she looked up pleadingly nonetheless. She needed to hear it from Twilight. And Twilight recognized this.
Twilight's face was still brightly lit, but she ignored the embarrassment. She only had one simple phrase to say, and would not have been able to say any more even had she wanted to.
“Rarity, dragons don't have penises.”
This conversation had been a bit less private than either of its participants had known. Although Rarity had been careful to breach the library only when Spike was out, she wasn't sure how long the situation would remain that way. In fact, the dragon had returned only minutes after she and Twilight began talking. Listening in from outside the door, he had heard every word. And the last sentence, delivered with a sort of clinical detachment that only Twilight could manage, stuck to him.
He was missing… something. Because of his species, because he was hatched by strange means and distant from his homeland, he was incomplete.
And because of that, he could never love Rarity. Not properly. Not like she deserved.
It was a horrible revelation. It tied knots in his stomach and drove him to tears. He flew away from the library at his fastest pace. His vision blurred and he fled into the blue sky, with no destination in sight or in mind. He just wanted time to think, to absorb and accept the circumstances life had given him, and he knew no better way to do that than to fly into the empty air.
But his nearly-blind state led him into another who flew for much the same reason. He crashed headlong into Rainbow Dash's flank, sending them both twirling and plummeting towards an unforgiving patch of dirt road.
He landed first, on his back, with a simple “oof” to mark his impact. Rainbow recovered from the fall and landed atop him in a standing position, with humor in her demeanor.
“Spike, what gives?” She tried to sound mad, but was only barely containing her laughter.
He was too distraught to respond in kind, shrugging such that she tumbled to the ground. He flew off again with a cry over his shoulder of, “S– sorry, I'll watch where I'm going next time.”
Spike was not the largest of dragons, and not the fastest of dragons, but even as such he was faster than most pegasi. Most pegasi. Rainbow Dash, as is often the case, was an exception. He knew this, but couldn’t do anything about it.
“Hey, come on, I'm sorry,” she hollered over the wind as she casually kept pace with him, “I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, what's wrong?”
“Nothing,” he lied, “nothing's wrong!”
“Aww, come on, you can talk to me! We're pals!”
“I don’t want to talk about it!”
Suddenly, she was ahead of him. He nearly careened into her again, but managed to stop in time, and both of them slowly floated to the ground.
“You know I’m never going to let up,” she was genuinely concerned for the second fastest flyer in Ponyville, “so why don’t you just talk to me?”
He considered the idea. He rejected it. They glared at each other with mock malice, standing on one of the many roads which meandered directionlessly from the center of town, buffeted by well manicured trees. The scene was a bit too calming to maintain any animosity.
“Is it… something to do with Rarity?” Rainbow guessed.
Spike just nodded, slowly.
She raised an eyebrow. “Something… intimate?”
He winced. How she’d guessed that he would never know.
Rainbow Dash was in a rarely compassionate mood. “I promise I just want to help. Tell me?”
He was trapped. He relented. Unable how else to put it, Spike simply repeated Twilight’s words, in a low, pained voice. “Dragons don’t have penises.”
Although it took great effort, Rainbow concealed her laughter perfectly. She had a stoic, understanding expression that calmed the poor dragon more than he would admit. She put a hoof around his side and squeezed him close; he was comfortable enough to let a few tears drop. “Y’know, I can’t help you too much there, I haven’t got one either.” she joked.
He chuckled a bit, but still carried anguish in his voice. “It’s not the same.”
Now her compassionate expression took on a small air of mischief. “Well, maybe you just need to approach the problem like a mare.”
“I… what?”
Her smirk spoke all. “Follow me.”
“Club Five?”
Rainbow laughed at the mispronunciation. “Yeah, sure, Club ‘Five.’ Best lesbian club in Ponyville. You’re gonna be a lesbian today, Spike!”
“I, uh, don’t think it works that way.” His voice was more nervous than it deserved to be. “Am I even allowed in there?”
Her laughter grew. She was enjoying this bit of torture. “Don’t be a fuddy-duddy!”
With a tug at his whiskers, they were inside.
Dragons don’t possess the same range of hearing as ponies, and particular kinds of pony music just come across to dragons as strange, pounding baselines with no obvious harmony or melody. Spike was uncomfortable enough being there at all, and the enigmatic music in this place made him more so. Still, he dutifully followed Rainbow, unsure of what else to do.
She had obviously been there before, and scouted the bar with a careful, discerning expression, every so often looking back to Spike just to enjoy his squirming. After a few seconds of watching and dragging the dragon along, her eyes locked on another mare’s.
“Perfect,” she squealed.
The mare was a unicorn with a dark violet coat and short, jet black mane, and she looked back at Rainbow with wide, surprised eyes. Her cutie mark was some unrecognizable symbol that looked like a lowercase ‘L’ leaning against a lowercase ‘I.’ Rainbow sauntered over to her confidently, at the same time giving a nod to the bartender, who winked back and prepared a quick martini. It arrived at the mare’s spot at precisely the same time as Rainbow did.
“Hey there, cutie.”
“R–R–R–”
“You can just call me ‘Dash.’”
“D–D–D–”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “OK, you can just call me duh-duh-duh.”
The poor mare stopped trying.
“Now, I bought this nice drink for you, but I was thinkin’… do we really need the pretext?”
Her eyes bugging out, the mare made it clear that she didn’t.
Rainbow spoke nothing more, and simply trotted towards the back of the room. Spike, still not knowing what else to do, followed her, with the mare close in tow.
They reached a door at the back, guarded by a ruthless-looking black mare in a black coat. She obviously recognized Rainbow Dash, since she let the group through with only the slightest pause at Spike’s presence. After working her way through a winding corridor to a room marked ‘109,’ Rainbow stopped.
“My favorite room,” she explained with a smile.
On entry, it was immediately obvious why. Aside from the fact that the bed, which was a surprisingly plush four-poster affair, was covered in rainbow-colored sheets, the walls were decorated with posters of the Wonderbolts. Rainbow’s influence was plain in every corner. The purple unicorn mare followed her in, and at her behest, so did Spike. He stood in a corner, failing miserably to be inconspicuous.
Finally noticing his discomfort, Rainbow asked the mare, “Hey, you don’t mind if he watches, do you?”
“R–R–R… D–D–D–”
“Heh, I’ll take that as a no.” She nodded at Spike, who only continued to stand frozen, then she put a hoof in the air and spun it, indicating for the mare to turn her posterior towards Rainbow.
She had no qualms whatsoever with complying.
“Now just watch,” Rainbow commanded Spike with a wink.
Even though nothing had happened yet, the mare’s haunches were already becoming wet. She was quivering with anticipation, having no idea what was coming.
Rainbow turned her side to the mare’s rear, and unfurled her right wing.
With a slow and deliberate motion, she set a few feathers across the back of the mare’s knees, and began to slide them upwards. They twisted and twitched, following every curve and contour. The mare’s front knees buckled and her head fell to the ground as she let out a spirited gasp, then a groan.
The wing continued moving upwards, until it reached the very edge of the mare’s exposed labia. She shuddered and groaned once more, and Rainbow’s pace slowed to a crawl. With the precision that only a flying ace could manage, her flight feathers wrapped around the edge, with one fluttering between. The mare was actually shaking with anticipation.
After an agonizing minute of slow motion, she reached the top, then, with a smirk at Spike, flicked her wing back down again. Immediately her side was sprayed with tacky fluid, and she gave a victorious grin.
“Y’see, Spike, it’s not about having the right equipment, it’s about having the right touch,” she explained.
Spike turned his head to the mare. “And… and you liked that?”
In affirmation, she let out a series of babbling syllables that didn’t form words, then fell to her side. Her glazed expression was perfectly clear.
Rainbow didn’t seem quite as overjoyed. “Hey! Hey! Get up, it’s my turn! Not fair!”
Deciding that he’d seen enough, Spike started to slink out of the room, but was halted before he’d made an escape.
“Look,” Rainbow said, “if you want the other side of the story, just talk to Caramel. I’m sure he’d be happy to ‘help’ you.”
It was a cruel prank, but she just couldn’t help herself.
Although he suspected that Rainbow’s suggestion had been at least somewhat in jest, Spike did acknowledge the value in seeking out a stallion’s advice, and had few enough stallion friends that Caramel was hardly the worst option. He could talk to Big Macintosh, but that workhorse never seemed to want to talk about anything; he could talk to Mr. Cake, but somehow talking to a father seemed even more awkward. Caramel may have been clumsy and a bit distractable, but he was always friendly and perfectly frank.
With that in mind, Spike was flying slowly over Ponyville, on his way to a simple wooden house in one of its suburbs. His wings ached when they weren’t in use, so it felt fantastic to be in the air again. It was nice to fly freely, and it almost distracted him from his strange concerns.
Almost.
He flew circles in the appropriate area, waiting for the few wandering pedestrian ponies to be out of sight. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to be seen on this particular expedition; he irrationally feared that somepony may figure out why he was there. When a free moment presented itself, he landed softly on the cobble path, and rapped on the door.
There was a brief shuffling on the other side as a bumbling pony knocked over a lamp, apologizing to the inanimate object pointlessly before making it to the door. Caramel swung the door open with a grin, and greeted his old friend.
“Oh, hi, Spike! What brings you here?”
Yet again, Spike found himself at an awkward moment, trying to breach a personal subject that part of him wanted to keep secret. “Hey, Caramel. Can we talk? In private?”
They weren’t exceptionally close friends, so this was an unusual request. Still, Caramel had no intention to ignore his friend’s plight, and opened the door invitingly.
Spike entered, and the door was shut behind him.
Caramel’s house was small. For a dragon of even Spike’s diminutive size, it was even cramped. He had to step lightly in the narrow foyer to avoid a table stacked with bills, before taking a turn to enter the living room. This room made it clear how lacking the pony’s life was: A couch, a cheap-looking rug, and that was it. There were no decorations, no accoutrements, not even so much as a carpet to hide the unvarnished hardwood. Spike was suddenly sorry for his friend instead of sorry for himself. Caramel followed him, somehow knocking over the table that he’d so carefully avoided, then also stood in the living room, and gave an unreadable look.
Rainbow Dash had sent Spike to Caramel for a reason. Anypony with even the slightest inclinations towards stallions, or male creatures in general, couldn’t deny Spike’s attractive prowess, and Caramel was one such pony, who had made the unfortunate mistake of telling Rainbow about his crush. Equipped or otherwise, Spike was a honed example of the male form, and that was not a form that he was so picky as to reject off-hoof.
“So… Rarity and I have been dating for a while…”
His heart sunk slightly, even though he already knew this.
“And there’s a, err… a problem. Sort of a personal problem.”
In spite of himself, his spirits raised a bit at this admission. He immediately felt terrible for it. Spike was not prone to blushing, but at this instant, there was a noticeable glow under his deep purple scales.
Caramel encouraged him to continue. “Yes?”
“Well,” once more, he simply repeated Twilight’s phrasing, “dragons don’t have penises.”
It was like an uncontrollable force pushed Caramel’s head down. He took a peek in confirmation, although Spike of course had no reason to lie. Sure enough, it was true.
“Um, oh. That could be a problem, I guess.” Not the most helpful of responses.
Spike scratched an imaginary itch behind his ear. “Uh, I guess the problem is, I’m not even sure what exactly one does… with a penis… since I’ve never had one…”
Caramel’s eyes widened, and he was suddenly quite sure that Rainbow had been involved in this moment of kismet. He took a few sharp breaths to stop himself from the first steps of providing a demonstration.
The dragon, having no experience in such matters, wasn’t aware of how private an area the male pony’s crotch is considered to be, and had leaned his head down to inspect. Caramel was frozen solid, as it took all of his energy not to react naturally on his attraction to a form so very close.
In confusion, Spike puffed a small cloud of warm smoke. That was too much. All at once, Caramel was fully and painfully erect, and Spike reared back in surprise. “Whoa!”
Caramel was a fairly average pony in that region, but Spike of course had no frame of reference, and so was unduly impressed by the display. Nonetheless, he was still confused. “How… I mean, what does it do?”
This was just too far. His unrequited lust hurting more physically than emotionally, Caramel babbled a useless approximation of an answer. “Well there’s penetration and then you move a bit and oh Celestia why are you asking me this it hurts um and then you go a bit more and maybe um…”
Spike was more confused than ever. In spite of having lived amongst ponies his whole life, there were aspects of pony culture and proper decorum of which he was wholly unaware. The right way to behave in this situation was one of them. In naïvety, he asked, “show me?”
Caramel couldn’t have stopped himself even if he had wanted to. He complied.
Equestria had spent many years in the development of nearly universal sexual liberation. But some taboos run so deep in the psychology of all sapient beings, that although nopony would ever bother to write them, everypony would nonetheless be basally offended by them. In these years, nearly every conceivable pair of organs had at some point mingled, but some were simply never meant to. The mammalian phallus and the reptilian male cloaca were one such pair. Neither of this couple gave that restriction heed, however.
It was a truly alien feeling to Spike, like his organs were being pushed aside and rearranged. It wasn’t exactly painful… and it wasn’t exactly pleasant, either. It was the sort of experience that one would want to repeat for the sheer uniqueness of it, if not because it was otherwise gratifying.
To Caramel this wasn’t especially different from any other kind of sex, except that Spike wasn’t particularly warm, which gave him the uncomfortable sensation of fornicating with an automaton. He didn’t let that stop him.
His body having adjusted somewhat, Spike was finding more pleasure in this. His internal gonads swelled against the intruding organ, giving an ambrosial feeling he’d never experienced before. He moaned softly, which excited Caramel further.
They orgasmed simultaneously and the pony fell to the floor happily. Spike let the elation of the moment flow through him, but it was short lived. Whatever else this moment had to offer, it had given him one lesson.
There were acts of intimacy that he could not perform. Acts that Rarity should not be denied.
Caramel picked up on his sudden depression, and the reasons for it. “Look, Spike… it’s probably not that important.”
Spike snorted indignantly.
“And hey, if things don’t work out with Rarity, we can do this again sometime!” This was more for his own benefit than for Spike’s, but the befuddled dragon nonetheless laughed, lightly.
There was a nearly inaudible knocking on the door of the Carousel Boutique. It was past closing time, and as was usual in the last few days, Rarity had locked herself inside. She felt ashamed of herself for reacting so poorly to Spike’s… condition, but now had no idea how to make things right. And the last thing she needed was a visitor.
The knocking came again, a bit louder this time. She groaned and pulled herself from her bed, giving her mane a quick twirl to be presentable, then meandered towards the door. The old aperture opened slowly and creakily, revealing the unexpected visitor. She had expected Twilight, or maybe Fluttershy or Applejack, but certainly not Spike.
He scratched a series of symbols into the ground with his middle claw, a nervous tic he’d developed from Rarity’s repeated rejection years prior. He was looking at the ground, seemingly entranced by his own etchings. His voice was low and soft, with the same compassion it always carried, but with an unfamiliar undertone of remorse.
“Hello, Rarity.” His reserved salutation did little to heighten either’s mood. “I think we need to talk.”
It was true. She ushered him inside, and closed the door behind them.
He finally looked up. His eyes were puffy and red, but his demeanor was stoic and firm. He wore a slight scowl, but with no malice. Rarity had no idea what to expect of him, but was somewhat frightened by his appearance. And, if she was honest with herself, just a little bit aroused.
“Rarity.” His tone was listless, detached. “I know you would never leave me because of… this. Because you’re good, and kind, and generous.
“But I also know that you’re a mare. You’re a fine woman, and you have needs that I simply can’t satisfy.”
His stony exterior finally began to crumble, and he trembled slightly. But his voice remained deep and strong.
“I don’t want to make this difficult for you, Rarity. I don’t want to make it an issue. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that it has to end this way.
“But I think we both know that it has to end.”
Rarity paused. She gazed into his eyes, now moist and still bloodshot. She took a long moment to assimilate what he’d said.
She lifted a hoof. She slapped him across the snout, hard.
Then she kissed him.
He clearly didn’t know how to react to this at all, so just enjoyed the kiss. She pulled away and spoke with just as much conviction as he had.
“No. I refuse. Spike… Spikey, I’m falling in love with you! I would never let something so foolish as… as… as anatomy stand between us!”
She kissed him again, this time indicating with her tongue for him to use his. It really was quite enormous. Really, really, quite…
Gingerly holding his tongue between her teeth, she pulled away, such that the organ was left dangling ridiculously out of his mouth. She examined it intently, a small smirk growing with a twinkle in her eyes. Spike’s eyes crossed, trying to understand what she was doing and why.
“Besides,” she breathed airily into his ear, “there’s more than one way to please a lady.”
~fin~
Author's notes:
Thanks to Gold for giving me a title, thereby forcing me to actually write this. Gold, I hate you almost as much as I hate myself.
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