Finds its Way Back Again
The smell and sensation of sweat still lingered by the time Princess Celestia brought forth the morning, and it was a scent well-liked by both ponies. The curtains were drawn in the inn room, caging the heady smell that laced the twisted, messy sheets. Through the knotted tangle of blankets, the shape of two ponies could be glimpsed. The first pony was a mare of standard build whose movements and short-cut mane and tail gave her form an illusion of slimmer legs that had helped her slip into the beds of many stallions before this one, and she aimed to end up in many more when she was done with him. Her mane was a red plume whose cheap dye was starting to fade, revealing the roots of a gray-pink striped with a dark creamy color. Under those locks, bright pink painted her eyelids in smudges that were ruined from the previous night's debauchery and they bled into the last remaining smudges of blush still on her face.
Peeking out from the blankets was her cutie mark: two bottles of essential oils. Jars of the stuff could be found in her discarded saddlebags on the floor — not just for her own personal use, but for selling as well. It was a good enough way to make bits and a decent premise to find her way into new liaisons. Petunia Petals came from farming stock in the new settlement of Ponyville, and though she loathed what she felt was the nothingness of her rural roots, she could not deny it gave her the skills to secure her special talent and make her bits in a big city like Canterlot. Mixing up her brews allowed her thoughts to dance with plans of seduction.
Her purple eyes fluttered openly tiredly and she took in her partner. The stallion lying beside her was stocky, with unshorn fetlocks revealing silver hooves. His coat was the palest blond color — so light that it looked white. His mane was blond in his colthood, he had told her when she was half-listening but had darkened to a deep butterscotch, all while his brother had gotten a bronzer hue. Petunia Petals had never met Rhodium's brother Pallas Blueblood, or his blonde-maned sister Platinum VII. She would never know if they all shared the same blue eyes that ran in Equestria's most goddess-favored clan, the one adopted by none other than Princess Celestia herself. She only needed to know the here and now.
Petunia knew that Pallas was single and Platinum was still in school. These personal bits would slip out of her lover's mouth when she didn't keep it busy, and she would entertain the knowledge only because it was about him. But she did so with the indifference that ruled her heart. Every fact he shared with her was as temporary as a ripple and left her mind just as easily as it was shared. This was a time for primal equine passion, for dirty deeds, and breaking the vows that had no place here.
Blue eyes opened, surrounded by the tiredness such a pale coat betrays, and peered at Petunia from under a sweat-mussed mane. "Good morning, my minx."
Petunia's smile was devious and her eyes sharpened as she gazed back at him. "Ever the fine morning to wake up with you, my Dee."
She found that he lived up to the letter's other sense well enough, and where he was lacking in that department, he made up for it with the roughness and wildness that she craved.
The smile he showed her in return was devoid of tenderness and full of hunger that guided the way it curled across his mouth. They were not one to share much like sweet talk, as it satisfied nothing in them and turned off the loveless nature of their desires. This was another night he was away from his wife — and the nights they slept together with him able to stay until sunrise were rare. He always had the illusions of life to return to, if one didn't think of her as the illusion — not that she would mind that. She didn't dwell on it much, and illusions were good enough for her.
Their trysts were whenever they could manage to secure them, but Rhodium was one to simply find alibis for staying out late instead, knowing that his working wife was the only one honest in being out late. Such things were necessary to secure time to ravage Petuinia, who wondered if all married stallions were this filthy — he was the first that she ever took to bed. Serendipity Stargust was a unicorn mare who ran both an airshipping business and was deeply involved with the work of the Canterlot Navigator's Guild; when she had reasons to be out, there was no doubt to the honesty of her late nights. But her husband, Rhodium, had been born into a life that did not necessitate work and had been finding endless reasons to stray from the Blueblood Manor in Hayfable since his bachelor days.
So far, he had not been found out. And even if they were — so what? Petunia cared little for broken hearts, and adultery wasn't illegal. Rhodium wasn't sure he'd object to keeping two mares who knew about one another, and he could not think of what consequence might befall him.
"I can't say that I'm all that's awake," Rhodium said, his voice a warm, sleazy whisper in Petunia's perked-up ears. When she looked down to his loins, a predatory grin eased its way onto her face and she licked her lips.
And he didn't plan to be found out for a long, long time.
Her response was to move forward into his forehooves with a move that was half-rolling, half-lunging. It was not enough to know what he meant — she felt it, too. Her favorite part of him — and the only part that mattered. Petunia pressed against him until he rolled onto his stomach with her atop him, and from there she maintained her grip on him like she was a queen at her throne. Even during the times she let him mount her, Petunia always maintained dominance. She controlled how she would be satisfied, how she would have him, and how far they would go — when he was atop her, it was her dirty words, fussiness, and denial that kept him wrapped around her hooves. Petunia was the one who decided when and how he would rut her senseless. Now, her teeth were at his neck, biting, licking, and nipping ferociously to the sound of Rhodium calling her a slut each time her teeth gripped his warm flesh.
He'd simply magic the marks away later; she was the only one who knew he was here. He was the only one who needed a disguise; she could flaunt the marks of their encounters shamelessly if she chose to. His noise-canceling spells let them make as much noise as they wanted; she knew he was quite alright with never being told 'I love you' and not just because she'd never said those words to anypony before, but because he didn't want love to get in the way of what they did. As if it ever could.
They rarely kissed, but when they did, it was with single-minded desperation that left room for nothing else to bloom. Tongues and muzzles met in a sloppy display of each trying to get as much as they wanted from the other, devoid of any affection as they simply rutted with a lust that would shame rabbits.