Like a Cat in the Night
Glenda and Stygian stumbled as they entered Stygian's hotel room. Two lamps glowed with warm yellow light on bedside stands, a deep merlot-colored comforter covered the large bed, and a large picture window showed the scattered lights of nighttime Griffonstone.
Looking around, Glenda fought to keep her tail still. It wanted to whip back and forth in excitement. Its tip twitched, beyond her control.
She sniffed, sampling the smell of new carpet and fresh paint. The hotel was less than six months old, another fruit of Princess Twilight's new trade policies that were dragging Griffonstone into the modern world.
Stygian dropped his saddle bags onto the dresser and levitated off his rough cloak, hanging it in the closet. Glenda pulled the half-empty bottle of wine from the restaurant from her shoulder bag and placed it on one of the bedside stands.
"It's a cold night," Stygian said, rubbing his nose, "but nicely warm in here."
This was her first good look at him, now that his cloak was off. A small pony—very small, even smaller than Raven Inkwell or Ambassador Small Talk, the two non-alicorns Glenda knew well—but he seemed lean, rather than scrawny. Well, Glenda had read his books. He might not have been Rockhoof or Flash Magnus, but years of criss-crossing Equestria on hoof will get anypony in wiry shape.
He smiled at her, tilting his head slightly.
Glenda's heart pounded and the feathers on the back of her neck stood up. A quick series of soft pop noises came from the floor where the claws on her rear paws extended into the carpeting.
They stared at each other for a few moments, neither of them saying anything. Glenda, now really feeling the wine, spread her rear legs a little wider to be sure of her balance. Her paws—larger than pony-made snowshoes—anchored her onto the floor despite the strong buzz from the alcohol.
"I'm out of practice," Stygian said. "It's been some years. Or a millennium, depending on how one reckons it."
Glenda hopped up to the bed with a single flap of her wings and plopped belly-down, arms folded on a pillow, looking over her right wing at him. She let her tail swish, long sweeps to the left and right, that gave him fleeting glances at her treasures. "Come up here and cuddle with me while you read more of your book," she said.
He stared at her rump and licked his lips. She patted the bed next to herself. After shaking himself and levitating up the book, Stygian climbed onto the bed and lay down next to her, his left flank touching her right. "What should I read? From the beginning?"
Glenda lowered her chin to the pillow, allowing her body to melt into the surface of the bed. His warmth next to her relaxed her muscles.
Years of remembered longing flooded her. Another creature who liked books! Her past fantasies had always assumed the body next to hers on this wonderful night would be a fellow griffon, not a pony, but that hardly mattered now, did it? Everything else from the fantasies that went back years, to her lonely and horny adolescence, were coming true. Somegriff—somepony—kind, gentle, and well-read...
"Not the beginning," Glenda said. "Read the scene where they make love the first time."
"Indeeeeeed," he said, flipping pages.
"What form of griffon was she?"
"Princess Gladia? Clouded leopard and snowy owl."
The breath caught in Glenda's throat. The book was Stygian's own colthood fantasies, obviously, and he'd picked another leopard form, just like Glenda! Clouded leopards weren't as fluffy or as cold-adapted as her own snow leopard form, but from a distance looked rather similar. "Why did you choose leopard for her?"
"Our hero, Lightless Dark," he continued, "found the thick fur of her tail most... irresistible." Stygian's tail brushed against hers and Glenda bit the pillow.
"Here we are," Stygian said. "I've probably had a little too much to drink to translate as I read. Do you mind if I read the original Old Ponish? You're fluent enough, yes?"
"Yes," Glenda mumbled into the pillow. His tail was still brushing hers and she felt a smoldering heat working its way up her spine. Something like a live coal seemed to be burning under her tail, a sensation unlike anything she'd felt before. A sensation of...
She had been lying with her hind legs tucked under her belly. She extended her legs and spread her hips, letting her belly press down onto the soft comforter of the bed. He shuffled sideways, his own hip pressing against hers.
He read, Lightless Dark entered the dark foyer of the decrepit castle, calling Gladia's name. She stared down at him from her perch high in the rafters, barely breathing, her eyes wide with attention. Lightless Dark's horn lit, casting pools of illumination and shadow around the ancient stonework. He called her name again, looking left and right, forward and backward, but revealing his unicorn instincts by never looking up. As he passed beneath her, she leaped from the rafter, stooping on him, flaring her wings at the last second, silent and deadly as any owl making her kills by night. She landed on his back, rear claws pricking his flanks, talons scratching his shoulders, and her beak clamping into the scruff of his neck.
Dampness built under Glenda's tail, the mound of her pubis throbbing against the soft comforter of the bed.
Gladia knocked him down, flipping him onto his back, and planted her hind legs to either side of his hips and lowered her weight, pelvis heavy on his abdomen, pinning him. His hornlight waxed, illuminating her huge yellow eyes. With the talons of her left claw, she scratched delicately at his exposed throat, tracing circles in the soft fur around his larynx.
"Yield," she said, "for I've gotten the drop on you."
"I yield," he replied with a smile, "and find myself at your mercy."
Glenda exhaled a pent-up breath. The nubs of her eight nipples rubbed against the bed, too, and she found herself shifting her torso left-right-left-right on the bed to rub them against the fabric.
Gladia's talons scratched downward from his throat, across his chest. She squirmed her hindquarters backwards, sitting on Lightless Dark's tail, trapping it, and both her claws played down his flanks, talons leaving furrows in his coat. Her breath rasped through her beak as she stared down at him, at her mercy, and the soft hairs of his tail rubbed her Most Secret Place.
Glenda slowly extended her right wing, wrapping it over Stygian's body, pulling him closer.
Lightless Dark stared up at her, a thin smile on his face, but a drop of sweat beaded on his brow. Gladia shifted the scratching, her talons now tracing to the insides of his thighs, circling closer to his stallionhood, then away, then back. His chest heaved as he fought to remain still, the randomness of her scratching sending tiny shudders up his body, but he dared not move too much or too suddenly, lest her talons break his skin.
Glenda bit the pillow, imagining the scene, placing herself in it, the rhythm of Stygian's voice and the poetry of the Old Ponish words swirling around her.
Ready at last, Gladia's claws moved down, slowly, as she locked eyes with him, until the tips of her talons touched the soft fuzzy sack that covered his jewels. "In the old days," Gladia told him, "griffons were the predators and ponies the prey."
"Those days are not so far past," he replied.
She bent down and bit his shoulder—judging the pressure of her beak to hurt but not draw blood—and scratched the tips of her talons along the rounded curves of his jewels. His breath rasped as he fought to hold still.
Glend's tail spasmed, its underside now damp.
The princess released his shoulder and scooted down, her own treasures moving off of his tail and the cool air of the castle striking the heat of her own brazier. She nibbled and bit, his chest, his flank, his stifle, his cutie mark, as the palms of her claws massaged against the warmth held in his treasure sack. He moaned, deep in his throat, a purr than any griffon would have envied, and then his stallionhood was in front of her, just poking from its sheath as his love for her waxed.
Gladia's tongue licked around the ridge of her knight's lance and she nibbled, ever so gently, with her beak. His entire body jerked at the feel of the knife-edge surface across the velvety skin of his most sensitive place.
"Should I stop?" Gladia asked, a single sharp talon mussing the fuzz on the underside of his sheath.
"Never," he replied, looking down over his own belly to stare into her eyes. "I never want you to stop—"
Glenda lifted her face from the pillow, turned toward Stygian, and gently bit his ear, catching the warm skin and soft fuzz between the razor surfaces of her upper and lower beak.
Her left claw reached across, closed the book, and moved it to the bedside stand. "I've heard enough," she whispered, and tickled the inside of his ear with her tongue. She closed her eyes.
Stygian turned his head, his lips brushing along the side of her beak. Her beak wasn't particularly sensitive, not like she imagined a pony's lips to be, but even his light touch sent a shiver down her spine, setting the fluffy down on her chest and neck and underwings to poof straight out.
Glenda touched his lips with her tongue, and his own tongue poked out, brushing back. Placing a claw behind his head, she cocked her head sideways and pressed forward, edge of her beak to his lips, and slid her tongue into his mouth, letting their tongues play together. His mouth was warm, hot, and the warmth filled her, mixing with the wine that already had her head swimming and light. Her wings flexed and trembled, her tail swishing even more rapidly.
His tongue traced along the ridge of her beak, then probed in, brushing the soft palate at the roof of her beak. Glenda stiffened, the sensation a shock, unlike anything she'd felt before, kissing not being much of a griffon custom. Well, maybe it needed to be!
Her eyes opened. A moment later, his did too. They stared at each other from an inch apart as they brushed their tongues back and forth together.
The claw on the back of his head slid down, talons scratching his mane, down his neck, and she traced figure-eights along his spine with their tips.
"Nice," Stygian said, breaking the kiss and raising his head to the ceiling. "Talons are so... pointy."
"Dangerous?" Glenda said.
"Indeed."
With both claws, she reached across and rolled him over. He made a "hrnk?" sound as he landed flat on his back on the dark bedspread.
Glenda hiked up a leg and straddled his hips. She leaned down, looming over him, and flared her wings, tenting them over him and casting him into shadow, her claws flat on his chest, mashing his thin frame down into the mattress with her predatory weight.
Their tails swished in time, her talons pricking his breast, her massive rear paws spread wide as she squatted on his pelvis, her rear claws poking through the fabric of the comforter.
As they stared into each other's eyes, she lowered her rump just a little more, the weight of her hindquarters and the wetness of her excitement pressed down onto him. The throbbing of his balls with his heartbeat pressed up into the soft flesh and fuzz of her secret place.
"I like your book," she said. "It was very... exciting."
Stygian smiled. "You stopped me just as we were getting to the good part."
"I wanted to see if we could write our own scene." Glenda leaned forward, bending down to nibble gently at his lips with her beak again. Purrs rumbled deep in her chest.
"I'm always up for researching my next book," he said, reaching up to rub her chest and feel the almost seismic vibration of her purring. She flapped her wings, letting steel-like cords of her flight muscles press back against his hooves.
"I've got the drop on you," she said, quoting Princess Gladia, a single talon scratching lightly through the fuzz on his throat.
"I yield," he quoted back with a smile.
"Then I'm going to... to..." By the sky and the sea, what was she going to do? The wine buzzed in her head and sudden roiling lava filled her belly.
She didn't know what to do! She'd had sex dozens, hundreds of times—but always to make a few bits, to earn a meal. Tartarus, she'd lost her virginity to the healer who set the broken bone and put the cast on her arm! A barely-adolescent Glenda had made a bad stoop onto a fish in the Guto river and smashed her left arm into an underwater rock. The worthless healer—she refused to call him a doctor no matter what the sign on his hut read—had financed her treatment, fucking her nine more times.
She—she knew how to fuck but didn't know how to make love. She didn't know how to screw somegriff—somepony—she actually wanted to screw. This situation was utterly new to her.
"...what did Princess Gladia do to Lightless Dark after she stooped on him?"
Stygian chuckled. "I believe the modern term is 'beakjob.'"
"Oooooohhhhh..." Glenda said.
"Now, Glenda, anything that you're uncomfortable with, anything you don't want—"
She reached down and grabbed the tip of his stiffening stallionhood with her left claw, wrapping the strong fingers around it and squeezing.
"—ah. I see."
She kept her eyes locked on his, preferring to start exploring his body by touch. His erection throbbed in her palm, warm, thick, and heavy. Glenda wiggled her rump left and right, letting the wetness of her secret treasure smear across the soft fuzz of his scrotum. Her other claw drew down his flank, talons scratching enough to hurt but not quite draw blood. He squirmed and Glenda almost drew her claw back, but then a smile crossed his face, so she scratched a little bit harder.
With a deep sigh, he closed his eyes. "So nice. You feel wonderful, Glenda. Your... excitement is warming my own furnace."
A high-pitched squawk escaped her before she could stop it. "I'm dripping on you, you mean."
"Well, yes, but I was trying to be poetic about it."
Releasing her grip on his cock, she shimmied downward, sliding off his hips and to her left, plopping belly-down on the bed next to him. Still keeping her eyes locked on his, she shifted her head towards his torso and then let her eyes move forward.
His stallionhood throbbed in front of her, not quite fully erect, still about half-sheathed. His balls glistened, soaked by her flows. Something told her he wasn't particularly huge by pony standards—his whole body was pretty small for a stallion—but compared to the griffons she'd fucked over the years, it was downright intimidating! The simple fact of the matter (and Glenda had read quite a few books on the topic, being lonely and horny in the library) was that big cats had proportionally tiny dongs.
Ponies did not.
"Scoot up," she said, making a shoo, shoo gesture. Stygian levitated pillows against the brass-rail headboard and shimmied up into a sitting position. The change in posture left his thick shaft pointing vertically at the ceiling, and his wet scrotum rested heavily on the base of his tail. His balls drew Glenda's eyes, the tip of her tail flicking with predatory intent, as she noticed his balls were enormous. Well, okay, be honest: Glenda had never seen a pony's undercarriage before, so she couldn't compare. But compared to griffons, his balls were enormous.
Crawling on claws and paws, she inched forward, planting herself on his tail, centered between his thighs, looking up into his face.
"You're—you're okay with this, Stygian?" she asked, brandishing a claw and letting the lamplight glint on the honed edges.
"A little danger in the bedroom is a nice relief from the stresses of everyday life, don't you think? So long as it's not real danger."
Glenda lowered her head and touched her tongue to the glistening patch of fuzz on his balls, her eyes closing as she tasted her own flows on him. Her taste was strong, not surprising for a mostly-carnivore, almost savory and heavy with her scent.
Oh, she hoped he would soon sample that taste, but first...
She licked, tongue extended, from the fuzz of his balls, across his sheath, and up, along the underside of his cock, to the tip, keeping her eyes locked on his.
Stygian leaned back, head against the pillow, and moaned, a sound of contentment deep in his chest as his eyes slowly closed. She dragged the dull back of a talon—not the scalpel-sharp cutting edge—up his shaft, from the base to the tip, and the purr-like rumble in his chest redoubled.
Okay. Okay. He liked that... nuzzling his throbbing shaft with the curve of her beak, she worked back downwards, from his tip to his balls. She put gentle pressure on his balls with her palms, pressing them into his body, massaging, and then circled her palms underneath his scrotum, hefting their weight and letting the tips of her talons scratch the thin fur where his hips met his torso.
He sighed, relaxing further into the bed. "I must confess..."
"Hmmm?"
"I've missed this, missed hands, living among other ponies. A good... fondling..."
Her beak opened, slowly, and she licked around his left ball before pulling it into her beak and ever... so... gently... biting until the sharp cutting surfaces, capable of skinning a rabbit or filleting a fish, scratched against his soft fuzz.
She applied slightly more pressure, his testicle captured between her upper and lower beak. Her tongue stroked it, wetting the fuzz on his scrotum more.
His eyes opened and he looked down at her. "My, my, Glenda," he said. "I like that."
Her left claw scratched the fur covering his other ball with the razorlike tips of her talons. A shudder ran up Stygian's spine, sweat breaking out on his brow. Mumbling around his jewel, she asked, "Sure you're okay?"
"My heart and my soul trust you, Glenda, but my body knows it's prey and you're a predator."
She shifted her not-quite-a-bite to his other ball, rolling it between the upper and lower halves of her beak and waggling her eyebrows up at him, scratching the dock of his tail with two talons. A purr rumbled deep in Glenda's chest as she moved from his balls to his erection, opening her beak and running her tongue up the underside of his cock.
His cock was firm, thick, and heavy, many times bigger than any griffon's, and she gripped his balls with her hands as she nibbled his medial ring with the curved hook of her beak.
Her own excitement swelled, her tail thrashing and her entire backside soaked with the flows. Her heart pounded in her ears and throbbed in her pussy. He clit and nipples hurt in time with her pulse.
"Very exciting, Glenda," he whispered, eyes locked on her.
Wriggling upwards, she shifted her weight, claws planted on his inner thighs, and let her tongue rest against the tip of his cock. There was already a tiny drop of sharp-tasting fluid there as his own excitement built. She licked back-and-forth over his tip, getting every bit of his flavor.
Glenda grabbed around the base of his cock with both claws, planted her tongue against the underside of his tip, and then closed her beak until its curved hook scratched the flare of Stygian's glans. She closed her beak slightly, taking his tip in between the upper beak and her tongue, his heartbeat throbbing up his shaft, the tip pulsing against her tongue and the roof of her beak, his heartbeat fast and strong.
Oh, he was excited! And possibly scared, his heart was racing.
Well, Glenda knew exactly what to do. With the same trained muscle memory she used to swallow wriggling two-pound trout whole, she swallowed, pulling the flared tip of his stallionhood into her throat.
"Oh!" Stygian said.
Glenda looked at him, staring into his eyes and breathing through her nostrils, waggling her eyebrows. With another swallow, she got more of his cock down her throat, now with about half of his length captured.
She breathed carefully, his thick circumference filling her throat. Instinct told her the fish is stuck get it swallowed! but she fought against that.
Her left claw cupped and squeezed his balls, her right scratching up-and-down the lower half of his cock. She lifted her head up, withdrawing his cock slowly, its flared shape scraping along her esophagus, his every heartbeat throbbing deep inside her, until his tip popped out of her throat and back into her beak with a schlurp.
"Oh!" Stygian repeated, relaxing backwards against the headboard and his eyes closing again. Glenda licked him, circling her tongue around his tip and sampling the sharp taste of pre-cum, then lowered her head once again, swallowing him back down, deeper this time, getting him fully deep-throated, the tip of her beak touching his belly. His balls throbbed against her palm as she massaged them, then she lifted her head up once more, the flare of his cock dragging along her throat. She closed her beak—just a little more—as she pulled up, scraping along the velvety soft skin over his steel-shaft hardness. He moaned in pleasure.
At the top of her stroke, the flared tip of Stygian's stallionhood just at the back of her throat, she squeezed on his balls and started short up-and-down bobs with her head, letting the curved tip of her beak rub along the upper side of his shaft. She sped up, faster, opening her claw so that she could massage his balls with the flat of her palm. His balls pulsed against her palm, throbbing, and his cock flared, the glans widening suddenly and getting stuck her her throat on her downstroke, jamming inside her with a sudden sharp pain just above her larynx and his entire body spasmed, his tip flaring wide enough it closed off not just her esophagus but also her windpipe. Glenda's eyes glazed as she tried to exhale but the breath was caught, her lungs full of stale air, and then Stygian whispered "Selene!" as his cock pulsed, pulsed, pulsed and thick wads of cum filled her throat, his balls throbbing in time against her palm.
He slumped backwards and a few inches sideways. Glenda's claw released his balls and she reached down to her own nethers, the pad on the tip of one finger rubbing her clit as the talon-tip brushed the fluff of her tail. She sucked, the same throat muscles that were so powerful and practiced at swallowing whole fish massaging his flared glans and extracting every drop of cum.
His load spent, the flare of his tip faded and she could breathe again, pent-up breath rushing out and then she sucked in a fresh lungful. Purring rumbled deep in her own chest as she rubbed her clit harder, moisture dribbling down the finger to her palm. She closed her beak a little more as she lifted her head off his cock, giving him a good scrape from the sharp ridges.
Flopping from her beak, soaked with saliva and dripping a last string of cum, his cock slapped against his belly. Glenda swallowed, licked the edges of her beak to ensure no cum remained, and swallowed again.
Glenda settled onto the bed, belly-down next to Stygian, and scratched his belly fur with her talons. "Wow."
"Wow," he agreed, shimmying back down from a sitting position to lying, on his side, facing her. His forehoof reached out and stroked her wing. "Wow."
For a few minutes, they just lay there, eyes closed, panting, catching their breath. Glenda's tongue rubbed against the roof of her beak, sampling the last of his taste, swallowing to clear her palate. She pushed up onto her elbows, grabbed the wine bottle from the bedside stand, yanked the cork out with her beak, and spit the cork onto the floor.
She took a long swig, straight from the bottle, and then offered it to Stygian. He sat up and levitated the bottle to take a smaller sip of his own. Glenda glanced between his hind legs and saw that his cock had retreated into its sheath, the fur matted with her saliva and a few last drops of his seed. His balls were slowly drying, matted with her pussyjuice and saliva.
"I can feel the wine hitting me again," she said, lifting her wings about an inch off her flanks.
Stygian put the wine bottle to the bedside stand on his side. "Your wings... your feathers are a little mussed."
She flared her left wing and cocked her head to look at it. "Yeah, this is the time of day I usually preen myself, before bed."
"Lie down, flat on your belly, in the middle of the bed, and spread your wings."
Glenda blinked at him, tucking her wings tight to her flanks. Had he just—? "You...you know how..."
"Unless it's changed in the last one thousand years, of course."
She wriggled to the center of the bed, spread her arms and legs, and looked over her shoulder at him.
"Close your eyes and relax."
Glenda pulled a pillow to her, tucking it to her upper chest and resting her chin and throat on it.
Her heart pounded. A griffon's wings were her most valuable possession. Glenda, in particular, had to hunt to keep herself fed, her civil service salary from the library insufficient to fill her belly. If Stygian injured her wings, even accidentally, she would be in dire straits until she healed. Even damaging too many feathers could ground her!
She closed her eyes and—after another moment's hesitation—spread her wings across the bed, a griffon's gesture of ultimate trust. He moved, rustling the bedsheets and sending tiny vibrations against her belly, into the hardened nubs of her nipples. She expected the prickly-warm-cold feel of his magic to touch her feathers, and—
—and she jerked and turned to look at him when his lips and tongue touched her leftmost primary feather.
"Are you okay?" Stygian asked, lifting his head away from the feathers.
"Yes, yes," Glenda replied. "I just figured... unicorn..."
"I like how you taste." He smiled and brushed a hoof against the base of her tail. "And after I've preened you..."
"Oh!" Glenda sighed and lowered her chin to the pillow again, the tip of her tail swishing violently. Once more, the tickle of his lips and tongue on her primary tingled up unto her wingtip. He was surprisingly gentle, more gentle than she was when she preened herself, since she was usually tired and in a hurry to finish and get to bed.
His lips and tongue straightened the barbs, not fast but not too slow, and then he moved inward one feather and started the next one. The sensation was unlike anything she'd felt before. Her mother had preened her as a chick, but that had always been quick and perfunctory, her mangy juvenile feathers too messy to be worth expending much effort on. For that matter, her mother had never really liked Glenda very much, whereas Stygian—
But this... her left wing tingled with his gentle ministrations, moving inward one feather at a time. Muscles relaxed as he moved from the tip towards her torso, muscles she hadn't realized were tight. Glenda had hardly flown that day, having spent it walking next to the unicorn.
It took a while—Glenda had no idea how long—but he reached her innermost flight feather on her left wing and then his teeth bit down on her flank, just where it met the root of her wing, and she squealed in surprise at the tickling sensation. He released the bite and ran his soft nose and tongue down her flank, from the base of her wing, along her ribs. She giggled at the tickling, her talons kneading the bedspread and the claws on her rear paws extending from her toes. His tongue brushed past her ribs, over her kidney, and then he nibbled her thigh, teeth biting down on the hard muscles, and her tail lifted. She felt the air of the room cooling her moistness as the tail's massive fluff lifted away—
Glenda squeaked as his nose brushed under her tail, and his tongue danced along her pussylips. Shocks like lightning strikes ran up her spine, down her legs, and her tail went erect and its fur poofed out to the maximum of its epic, alpine-cat fluffiness. She purred.
She bit the pillow, slicing the fabric of the pillowcase open with her razor-edged beak as he nuzzled her, his soft lips massaging against her most private place, his tongue darting down, swirling around her clitoris and heating the insides of her belly like a glowing ingot of metal from a blacksmith's furnace. Her rear legs spasmed and her tail trembled. Her claws grabbed brass rods that ran vertically as the headboard, the metal creaking with the strength in her arms.
Stygian licked and suckled her treasure, his magic brushing the tight muscular ring of her forbidden entrance. The sensation of magic pressing into her butt caused her eyes to pop open—the was a type of sex play griffons never, ever engaged in, and the sheer surprise and taboo of it forced a mewl from her throat. She wiggled her rump, hoping he would deepen the exploration of his spell into her unplumbed depths. All the while, his forehooves massaged the thick muscles and soft fur of her hips and buttocks. His horn brushed the underside of her tail, and he slid further right, breaking contact with her clitoris, the magic that pressed into her anus fading away, and he started licking and kissing up her right flank to the base of that wing.
He began with the innermost flight feather on her right wing. Glenda panted, tail thrashing, butt tingling and legs spasming. Her pussy throbbed, wondering why he had stopped eating her, and her anus spasmed, wanting his spell pushing back into her tight, muscular ring.
That... that tease! He'd warmed her up and then moved to the other wing, leaving her pussy and ass throbbing!
Glenda's mind momentarily flashed to the other lovers she'd had. Easily dozens of other griffons over the years. Not one had teased her, preened her, massaged her—they'd just used her, more like a masturbatory toy than a partner.
Stygian... Stygian was trying to make her feel good.
A single tear ran down the left side of her beak. She buried her face deeper into the pillow to hide it. The tingling sensation worked its way out toward her right wingtip as he preened one feather at a time, lips and tongue straightening the shafts and interlocking the barbs.
"Oh," Stygian said. "A broken secondary." He paused.
Into the pillow, Glenda said, "Go ahead."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah." She tensed.
This time, it was the feel of magic rather than his lips. A soft pressure tugged on the damaged feather and instead of the sharp pain of pulling it, he wiggled it free with little more than a dull ache.
"Oh!" Glenda said. "That hardly hurt at all. You can't go back to Equestria, you have to stay here and pull all my bad feathers."
Stygian chuckled and then continued preening her. When he finished her last pinion he... paused. Glenda closed her eyes tighter and held her breath, wondering what he was going to do next.
He sat down on her tail. That... wasn't what she had expected.
"I must say, Glenda, your tail is extremely soft. It feels wonderful."
She wriggled it gently and felt his massive balls shifting against it.
His forehooves brushed the pads of her left paw, then pressed down with a gentle massage. He kneaded her paw and her claws slid in-and-out of their sheaths with the gentle pressure. She arched her back and lifted her still-spread wings an inch or two off the bed as his hooves moved the the back of her leg, above the paw, massaging the thick cords of muscle. He found a knot and made a hmmmmm sound as he worked on it.
Glenda spread her arms wider—claws interlaced under her chin, elbows fully extended—on the bed and found her beak hanging half-open, her tongue lolling out as the waves of relaxation washed up her body from his ministrations. Stygian's hooves moved up, from her leg to her thigh, finding new knots and working them out, too. Her purring redoubled, shaking the bed.
More of her flows wet the underside of her tail and soaked the thick fuzz around her own treasures. The room was warm, well heated by the radiator in the corner, or she would have been shivering, given how soaking wet she was.
She wagged her tail, lifting it slightly, to rub his balls with her tail's fluffy coat and muscular strength. His massaging paused for a moment, then he moaned softly and continued, shifting to her right flank and thigh, releasing those knots, and working down to that leg and paw, taking several minutes, before finishing by massaging the pads on those toes.
Lastly, his hoof brushed the top of her tail. "Roll over."
Her eyes popped open and she turned her head. A little bleary—it had been a long day, and the massage had lulled her into a stupor—she blinked over her shoulder at him. "Hmmm?"
He lifted himself off her tail. "Roll over."
With a quick twist, she flopped onto her back. A wave of self-consciousness washed over her, which she intellectually knew was rather silly, having already emptied his balls into her belly and him having already kissed under her tail, but she wrapped her wings around her torso, arms hugging her knees to her belly, hiding her treasures from his view.
Looking over her knees, she saw he was quite well recovered from their first round, his stallionhood thick and hard, throbbing under his belly and ready for another go. Yet another advantage of the preening and massage: time to recover.
"So," Stygian said, looking down at her. "You seem nervous."
"A little," Glenda said, looking away, up, toward the ceiling. "I've had sex before, but never really... made love? I've never been with somegriff—somepony—I actually liked."
"That's sad," he said.
"And... and... and..." Glenda shut her eyes and bit her tongue.
"And you've only been with other griffons before?"
She nodded.
His magic brushed under her chin and his tail rubbed against her tail.
"You—you've been with griffons before?" Glenda whispered.
"I don't want to violate another's confidence, even if she's a thousand years gone, but... yes."
She stayed put there, waiting, curled tight, unsure of where to go next. There had been moments in the past where she'd had sex, sure. But this was so... different. Stygian was different. Questions that had been quiet up until now suddenly came to the forefront of her mind, but their mental chatter silenced when Stygian's hoof came to her cheek in a gentle caress.
"It's not been like this before, has it? For you?" Stygian whispered.
"N-no," Glenda admitted, "only in... dreams. Fantasy. Romance novels I lived through."
"I suppose 'opening a new book' might be a bit much?"
She gave a soft snort and rubbed her cheek against his touch.
"Glenda?"
Her eyes met his and stayed focused on the way he seemed to gaze at her. He wasn't just seeing her, he was... understanding her, like an ancient scroll written in a language nopony but he knew how to read.
"You can trust me. Right here, right now, at this moment. You can let go." Stygian offered a smile. "I'm right here to catch you. You're not alone."
It was the way he said it that made Glenda's wings unfurl, the feathers opening and her muscles relaxing bit by bit as she lowered her guard, continuing to hold his stare. She released her knees, lowering her rear paws back to the bed. After a few heartbeats, she let her thighs fall open, exposing herself. Just for him. "You promise?"
"They'd need all the Pillars again to pull me away from you."
She reached up and stuck her claws between the brass rods of the headboard and pressed her palms flat against the wallpaper, arching her back.
"Are you in a mood to... experiment?" Stygian asked.
She looked at him, cocking one eyebrow, and saw a lopsided grin on his face. "Hmm?"
"Just say the word and I can undo the spells," he said. His horn lit and a tossed-aside pillow shook itself, falling to the floor, the now-empty pillowcase levitating up and folding over and over into a thick strip of fabric that wrapped gently over her eyes and then tightened with a soft tingle of magic behind her head. The hotel room plunged into gray darkness as the improvised blindfold cinched tight.
"I like it," Glenda said.
"I have one more spell, if you're game?"
She made a tiny squeak: "...yes?"
There were sounds she didn't recognize, pops like the library's rafters cooling after sundown but more metallic, resonant... then she felt cold around her wrists. She realized: his spell was bending the headboard's brass rods and just that fast, he'd trapped her wrists above her head, the metal bars twisted into loops tight enough to prevent her from moving her arms but loose enough to not hurt or cut off circulation.
"Yes," Glenda said. "Yes." A blindfold, bound wrists? Yesterday, this thought would have terrified her, turned her into a snarling dervish of razor-sharp talons and claws, willing to kill to defend herself. But with Stygian...? He was unlike, so unlike, any of her past lovers. He was... she could trust him, and let go of the stubborn self-reliance and independence tweenaged Glenda had been forced to learn, hungry and homeless and desperate, all those years ago.
"And now..." Stygian muttered.
More clinking, clicking sounds came to her ears. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion under the blindfold as the sidelobes of a powerful spell tickled her beak, the bare skin of her claws, and the exposed sensitivity of her nipples, which stuck erect through her belly fur.
"What was that last spell?" Glenda asked. She wasn't nervous, she really did trust him, but her curiosity—well, the clichés about cats applied to griffons, she would be the first to admit.
"I flash chilled the wine," he replied as a thin stream of freezing cold trickled onto her topmost left nipple, then drizzled down the other nipples on her left side. She gasped and arched her back, her torso lifting up off the bed from the shock of the agonizing cold playing across the hot nubs, the brass rails that held her wrists creaking against the strength of her spasm, her abdominal muscles tensing and the fur on her tail puffing out—
—when the heat of his mouth clamped around the frozen sensitivity. He suckled, cleaning off the wine, as his teeth brushed the engorged nub of a nipple and his tongue pressed down on it, against it, his warmth removing the agony of the cold. Glenda gasped as bolts of pleasure and wonderful pain shot through her body and up to her head, down to the tip of her tail, as the hot-cold fire-ice sensation teased her. That nipple, already engorged, seemed to burgeon even larger and a gush of excitement wet her vulva, hot flows matting her tail.
Stygian lifted his head, pulling on her nipple with his teeth, sending a shock of pain—wonderful, alluring pain—down into her torso before releasing her.
Glenda collapsed, her arched back dropping back to the soft bedspread, and panted for several seconds. "My... my Guto that was amaz—"
A trickle of frigid wine played across her other nipples, on the right side, followed a moment later by his mouth, heat and tongue and teeth and this time Glenda actually screeched, the high-pitched undulating chirp of the osprey, which trailed off into a cat's hiss.
Her wings wrapped around Stygian, pulling him tight to her torso, refusing to let him pull back and away. He hmmmmmed and buried his face deeper into her, nuzzling her belly, sliding his biting and licking down to the next nipple in line, then up and across, hopping at random across her abdomen and keeping her guessing which of her eight nipples would next get his attention. He suckled and nibbled, cleaning the wine off her.
Eyes clenched shut, claws cuffed above her head, Glenda panted, gasped, and squawked as he sucked from one nipple to the next, biting the nubs and nuzzling the thick, soft fur of her belly. When she could stand it no more, she shifted her wings to the top of his head and pressed downward, guiding his skilled mouth lower, toward her own throbbing frustration. She whispered, "I'm plenty warmed up."
Without a word, his ministrations moved down, approaching the throbbing heat of her dripping slit, and she held her breath in anticipation...
...and he zigged instead of zagged, dodging her desperate need, biting her inner thigh and then nibbling down and around, across her tail and to the opposite thigh, circling her pussy, his breath playing across it but not touching it. A momentary flash of magic brushed her anus, feather-light, and winked out again. She bucked on the bed.
Mewling like a kitten, Glenda tried to squirm downward and catch his face with her sopping excitement, but the binding around her wrists stopped her. Her rear paws pressed on the bedspread, raising her rump an inch off the covers. "Please..."
And then his tongue, so hot and wet, so strong and skilled, touched her. She exhaled a breath she didn't realize she had been holding and her wings collapsed to the bed, a single tear wetting the blindfold, and the shock of his touch ran up her spine and lightened her head, making Glenda dizzy.
His tongue touched gently, feather-light, at the bottom of her opening, just above her anus and tail, and he slid it slowly up, lapping at her copious juices.
"You taste wonderful, Glenda," he said, "and I've never met somecreature so... excited. I might need a life jacket if things get any wetter." His thick tongue drove into her, and then slid heavily upward until it brushed her clitoris.
Glenda screamed. That sensation, him finally hitting the seat of her pleasure after the icy wine and hot mouth on her nipples, the nibbling and teasing, let her pent up horniness release. Not the pent up horniess of this one night: it was years' worth, a lifetime's worth. Glenda was still young, but Griffonstone was a brutal place to grow up and she carried herself with far more hard-knocked experience than a pony of her age would have. But her age meant she was barely past the hormones of her teenage years, and her past sexual experiences had ranged from 'unsatisfying' to 'nightmare-inducing,' and she'd spent years awaiting the lover who would find the key to unlock her pleasure.
As muscle spasms spread from the point where the heat of his mouth met the pulsation of her clit, running down her tail, up her flanks, to her wingtips and even making her arms tremble where they were confined above her head, she knew that Stygian was the lover with that key.
Her abdominals clenched and clenched again as she came, her entire lower body pulsating. She squirted, just a tiny trickle, and Stygian made a purring sound of his own, lapping at her and collecting the juices before swallowing loudly.
"Stygian..." Glenda whispered.
"Mmmhmm?"
"I'm ready."
With a last long, sloppy lick from the bottom of her slit to its top, he raised himself and scooted upward, planting his forelegs on the bed just beneath her wings and touching her flanks. Their tails brushed together, wagging out of time, and—
Something throbbing, heavy, and huge pressed against the wetness of her opening.
"So perfect," she whispered. "Kiss me while we... we... we fuck."
Teeth nibbled the furry-feathery transition from leopard to osprey on her upper chest. Of course, he was shorter than her. Stygian could hardly reach to kiss her beak if he was inside her, now could he?
The pressure between her thighs increased as he pressed his hips forward. Her tight opening—accustomed to griffons' tiny, pointy, catlike cocks—resisted the massive, blunt flare of his stallionhood.
"So wet," he said. "You feel so good..."
Glenda mewled again as he pressed deeper and a shot of combined pain and pleasure washed over her as he forced into her opening. It hurt like losing her virginity had, except it was a good hurt, so unlike her actual first time.
He pushed forward, slowly, inches upon inches entering her well-lubricated depths, his flare stretched her channel wide, filling her like she'd never been filled before, but it was so right, it felt so perfect, and she decided this was how a lock must feel the first time the right key was inserted...
...and he just kept going, more and more of him filling her. He grunted, suddenly stuck, as her tight channel refused to stretch further.
"You're huge," Glenda whispered.
"Not so much, but just relative to griffons." The bed squeaked as he shifted his weight, sitting on her tail, his cock now pressing more against the roof of her vagina than towards her womb. His forehooves moved to massage her, kneading her belly. She flared her wings wide, stretching them, her bound arms trying to stretch, too, and her spine wriggled on the bed.
Stygian kneaded her pubis and then slid his hooves upward, massaging the muscles of her vagina through her abdomen. With each stroke of his skilled hooves, his cock moved fractionally in, pressing her wider open as she relaxed.
The mixture of brutal stretching and gentle massage clashed, pleasure and pain combining into something far more profound. With a shout, she squirted copiously across his lower belly and her entire channel released, opening for him, and letting him slam in, hilting, his huge flare battering against the bottom of her womb.
"Ah," Stygian said. "Just wonderful. You know, griffons have a higher body temperature than ponies? You feel like you're going to scald my stallionhood right off, and there's nothing I like more."
"Fuck me."
He slid out of her. A wistful sigh escaped her beak as he retreated from her, Glenda's freshly-stretched-out channel spasming at its sudden abandonment. She flopped back, limp on the bed, wingtips trembling. Her sharp predator's nose caught the scent of her own excitement as his well-slathered cock retreated. She spread her hips wide, squeaking softly in the back of her throat. "Please get back in."
"My impatient kitten," he said. Glenda's eyes opened, but the blindfold gave her only a dark gray view of nothing. She concentrated on the other sensations, the smell of her lubrication and squirts, the touch of his hooves and the slightly scratchy bedspread, his rapid breathing.
His cock rested against her opening, a hint of magic brushing her clit as his heartbeat throbbed against her needy channel.
A tiny push forward split her open again. Glenda bit her tongue, but then Stygian retreated again, then forward again, only fucking her a claw's breadth, teasting her, he was teasing her! He knew she wanted him deep inside and he was making her wait...
Something tickled her nose. She sniffed, raising her head to angle her beak towards him. She smelled... sweat. Pony sweat. It had been thousands of years since griffons had preyed on ponies, but the instincts were still there. The instincts to pounce. To stoop.
"Stygian, free my claws."
Instantly, his magic loosened the restraints around her wrists. She whipped off the blindfold, grabbed him by the shoulders, and flipped him over, landing on him.
"Oof!" Stygian gasped as several times his own weight of sexually frustrated griffoness landed on his diaphragm. Glenda bent down, touching her nose to the side of his neck, and sniffed, sampling the melange of his smells, and especially the sweat that their foreplay had brought out.
The animal instincts rang down her spine, wanting to rend and tear, but generations of civilization allowed her to control that. Instead, she reached down and wrapped her claw around his dick and squeezed, feeling her own transferred wetness dampen her palm. She pressed his tip into her opening and slid down his shaft, taking in his huge pony cock in a single thrust, now that she was loosened up.
"Unf," Stygian said. "I take it I was being a little too much of a tease?"
Glenda licked her palm, getting the taste of her own juices. Sweeter than earlier, not as sharp, his teasing and foreplay having made her flows thicker and more honey-like. "I taste good."
"You do!" he agreed.
She leaned down and kissed him again, her beak lightly pinching his flesh as her tongue traced the line of lips. Kissing wasn't really a griffon thing, given their stiff beaks, but Stygian's cock jumped inside her and he closed his eyes and moaned, so clearly he was enjoying it.
His hips moved under hers, pressing himself up, deeper into her channel. Glenda squawked when he bottomed out, hitting the bottom of her womb, something she had never felt before, not with how comparatively small griffons were compared to this pony. Sweat broke out down her own back, wetting her spine and matting the feathers along her flanks. Her tail went vertical and the fur puffed out into bottle-brush fluffiness.
Planting her claws on his chest, she closed her eyes and rocked her hips forward and backward, dragging her clit against the soft fur of his belly. Squelching noises came from where her flows soaked him and their bodies rubbed together. Her entire body twitched with the pleasure of taking in his huge stallionhood. She leaned forward, rubbing the feathers of her cheek against the fur of his, remembering the pure joy of their dinner together, the time spent with him, the conversation and companionship, emotions she'd never felt before, and her entire pussy spasmed, clenching around him.
She stroked up, slowly, her breathing sharp and shallow as the head of his cock scraped down her well lubricated channel, every muscle and nerve in her belly twinging with the motion. It was so wonderful to get fucked and not have penis-spines rake her pussy agonizingly with every stroke! Honestly, evolution really had given female griffons the short straw, sexually: griffon cocks were—in every possible way—inferior to ponies'.
Just as she reached the top of her motion, his tip at the very entrance to her, Glenda dug the tips of her claws into his chest—drawing tiny drops of blood—and slammed her hips down again, as hard as she could, smashing herself down onto him.
Glenda roared, a big cat's bellow as his tip slammed into the base of her womb again, her entire body lighting up as if on fire. She started pumping, fucking as hard as she could, absolutely no teasing, no hesitation, her hips pistoning up and down so fast and so brutally the bed bucked and Stygian's torso bounded up and down with her rhythm. Every slam down with her hips brought his belly crashing into her clit, a shock of pleasure running into her, and brought his tip into contact with her cervix, a shock of pain that—mixed with the fullness in her channel—become a wonderful ecstasy.
"I'm—cumming—" Glenda said, feeling the tightness across her body as it prepared to release. She slowed, pumping more deliberately, and nibbled his ear, her claws sinking a little deeper into his chest. Her nose sensed the scent of his blood and it made her beak water, her predatory instincts fully triggered, and she forced herself to fuck a little more slowly, teasing herself, delaying her release.
The air cooled the sloppy wetness on her backside and she slammed herself back down, taking him in deeper than ever before. His forelegs reached and wrapped around her hips, pressing her down another inch or two, his steel-firm shaft pressing painfully into her before she felt a tingle of magic deep inside. A sharp pain split her belly for a moment and then turned into a dull ache. She stopped nibbling his ear, for just a moment, as she tried to understand the unfamiliar sensation, and then his forelegs pressed her hips down another inch or two, then three or four, the fulness inside her that she thought had been absolute becoming even greater, until her clit ground into the very base of his cock.
And then she realized, the tingle of magic had been something she'd vaguely read about but never paid much attention to, pony mating magic: his cock had slipped through the opening of her womb, deep into her. They were locked together, the huge flare of his massive stallionhood trapped into her deepest point, the muscular ring of her cervix squeezed tight around his shaft and trapping his glans inside her womb.
She moved up, but only got about a tenth-inch of play before she stopped, their bodies locked together. Magic tingled deep inside her, stopping her from pulling up and off him.
Glenda bit his ear again and pressed her hips down, making short, sharp thrusts. With his huge, flared tip fully inside her most intimate place, his entire enormous stallionhood in her tight pussy, his belly rubbing her clit, she came instantly, squirting into his belly fur, the sharp scent of her flows filling the room and her tail thrashing and wings beating the bed. His tip pressed the top of her womb, rearranging all her insides, a sensation unlike anything she could imagine, the pressure in her abdomen she thought had been ready to release instead ratcheting higher, and high, until—
"Gaaah!" Stygian gasped, spasming, his body shaking as his hips pressed upward. His balls throbbed, pressed against her rear entrance, and that final sensation, on top of the others, pressed her over the edge and she came, squirting again, her womb squeezing on him as he filled her with his seed, the pressure in her belly as he filled her womb painful but also so naughtily perfect, her channel tightening hard around his shaft.
Glenda bucked, her entire body shaking and the wind of her uncontrollable wingbeats rustling the bedsheets and the curtains and her pussy squeezed again and again and her tail wrapped around his, pulling on his tail and making him gasp in pain as she nearly dislocated it.
Pushing upward, she moved her claws to the bed and saw with relief that the bloody marks on his chest weren't deep, just pinpricks. Settling her weight backwards, the soft fuzz on his throbbing balls rubbed the sensitivity of her anus and sent shocks up into her which merged with the spasming of her womb as it squeezed on him.
His seed overflowed her, hot and sticky, the smell tickling her sensitive predator's nose.
"Well," he said, "that hewed quite closely to the section of the book we didn't finish reading."
Glenda smiled down at him. "T-thank, you Stygian. I've had sex before, but never made love. That was spectacular."
He pushed up on his elbows and she leaned down. They shared a nuzzle and an awkward beak-on-snout kiss as his penis softened and retreated from her, his massive flood of seed seeping from her channel. The smell of their lovemaking and their sweat, cum, and love juices filled the small hotel room.
"Shower?" Glenda said. "I could use some help cleaning under my tail."
"My pleasure."
"I'll clean the scratches on your chest. I'm sorry."
"Think nothing of it," Stygian said.
"You know something griffons can't do, because of the barbs on their penises?"
"What's that?"
"A shower seems like the right place for this other thing."
"Must I guess?" Stygian asked. "Or will you tell me?"
She leaned in close, her beak touching his nose, and whispered, "Anal."