Chapter I
"He's late," Fleur grumbled to herself, ducking out of the bright afternoon sun into the shade of a Canterlot alley and pulling back the sleeve of her trench coat to check her watch. Adjusting her matching black fedora with her magic, she checked to see that nopony was following her before slinking deeper into the shadows.
"Monsieur?" Fleur called, her voice hushed. She caught a faint sound like ruffling feathers from behind her and began to turn, asking, "Is that—"
Fleur tried to scream as she felt a flesh-tearing talon pierce her coat and grip her withers, but another covered her mouth before she could utter the slightest peep. Her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in, and her limbs tingled with the flood of adrenaline, but a voice of reason cut through the fog of her terror before she could turn on the aggressor.
"If I wanted to harm you, you wouldn't be breathing," the voice whispered into her perked ear, chilling her to the bone and pronouncing. It pronounced the w's as v's in the fashion typical of Griffian immigrants. "I'm going to release you now, but you must promise not to scream."
Trembling in fear and wavering in nausea at the stench of rotting fish on the speaker's breath, Fleur nodded imperceptibly and squeaked in affirmation through the razor-sharp claws sealing her lips. Feeling his talons release her, she collapsed to the ground, her chest heaving, her head swimming, and her heart pounding. She spared a glance over her shoulder to see that her hind legs were still erect and the speaker, a brown-furred, white-feathered griffin, dressed conspicuously in a black leather bomber jacket and Griffian ushanka, was appraising her flanks beneath the hem of her coat. A scarlet blush burning her white cheeks, she tucked her elegant pink tail between her legs, staggered back to her hooves, turned to him, and whispered harshly, "What was that all about?"
"My apologies, Madam," the griffin muttered, adjusting the satchel slung against his side, "but I can't risk you alerting the Royal Guard to my presence. I'd have to fight my way out, which would mean more blood on my talons, a higher bounty on my head, and if I were captured, a plucked, shaved griffin hanging by his crushed windpipe from the castle battlements."
"Did you bring the Filly?" Fleur asked, her voice devoid of sympathy.
"Of course I brought it," the griffin snapped, raising his voice without raising his volume. "I don't know what kind of incompetent you take me for, but so long as you make this worth my while, I don't care."
"I'm not having sex with you, if that's what you're implying," Fleur said, her blush returning. "I saw you eying my flanks."
"Your flesh is squishy, and your bones are frail. A griffin would tear you to pieces in the bedroom without even trying." The griffin got a faraway look in his armor-piercing eyes. "That's not an experience I want to repeat."
Her eyes widening with comprehension, Fleur wanted to wrap him in a consoling hug, but the knowledge she'd garnered from the Canterlot Archives about his extensive involvement in Fillydelphia's organized crime stayed her hooves.
"It's a damn mess to clean up," the griffin added by way of explanation, destroying any sympathy she might have harbored for him. "Speaking of messes, this Filly has just been dying to meet you. Cash will do fine, but don't expect it to come cheap. You wouldn't believe how hard smuggling these things has become since the nationwide ban took effect."
Fleur levitated a black velvet sack out of her coat's breast pocket and offered it to him, saying, "I think you'll find this to be more than adequate."
The griffin snatched the sack out of the air, stretched it open with his talons, and peaked in at the pile of gold bits glittering in the stray beams of sunlight. The corners of his bone-snapping beak turning up in a smile, he said, "Yes, this will do fine."
He drew the strings, closing the opening, pulled a sizable package out of his satchel, replaced it with the sack, offered it to her with a sickening grin, and said, "Here, see if this is to your liking."
Fleur cradled the package in her magic like a foal, levitated it up toward her nose, peeled back the outermost layer of grease-stained white wrapping paper, and took a long, slow sniff of the intoxicating mix of scents within, the strongest of which was that of seared flesh. Unlike his breath, it didn't make her nauseous. Instead, the heady aroma sent an exhilarating shiver through her body and caused a tingling dampness to form between her thighs as her lavender eyes glazed over. She stowed the package in her saddlebag and glanced up from beneath the brim of her fedora to thank him but saw only the typical bustle of Canterlot beyond the alley.
***
Upon arriving at her and Fancypants's home in Canterlot's palace district, Fleur closes and locks the door behind her, unslings her saddlebag, levitates the package out and through the open bedroom door, and places it on the nightstand. Now comes the tricky part, the part that none of the mundane races can accomplish without being professional contortionists, the part that makes her wonder if such garments don't exist solely for the sake of flaunting a unicorn's telekinesis.
She hangs her fedora on the nearby rack, rises up onto her long, slender hind legs, propping her forelegs against the wall beside the door, magically undoes the buckle around her waist, allowing her coat to flap open and exposing her bare fur to the conditioned air, pulls one foreleg toward her while magically tugging the end of the sleeve away, and repeats the process with the other so her coat hangs over her like a cape. She slips the fabric down her withers, slides it over the base of her tail and the purple-and-gold fleur-de-lis cutie marks adorning her lean flanks, and finally lets it crumple to the floor around her fetlocks. Giggling to herself, she imagines Fancypants would have quite the view were he to step through the door. Unfortunately, he won't be home for almost half an hour. That will give her plenty of time to lose her composure, remind herself that what she's doing is to test the mettle of their relationship as much as to satisfy her depraved fantasy, regain her composure, and sit through the remaining time in a heart-pounding mixture of agony and excitement.
She slips into the bedroom, leaves the door slightly ajar, strikes a match, and lights the jasmine-and-vanilla-scented candles around the room. The dim amber light casts interesting shadows along the walls as she rearranges the blankets and pillows to form a cozy nest just big enough for two ponies to lay beside each other, settles in on the far side, and emits a little hum as the lustrous satin sheets caress her sensitive underbelly. Knowing today will either end her marriage or bring her and Fancypants closer together than ever, she tries to relax.
The next half hour passes exactly as she predicted, but when she hears Fancypants call her name from the entryway and ask if she's home, her heart redoubles its efforts to beat her ribs into submission.
"In here, love," she calls back as silkily as she can but fails to suppress the undertones of anxiety and vulnerability. Her ears perk up at the thumping of hooves against the carpeted floor, and the creaking of the door's hinges silences her internal monologue. Seeing Fancypants's cerulean eyes smiling at her, she tries to put on a seductive smile to compliment the atmosphere, but judging from the shift in his demeanor, her insecurity is as plain as day.
Fancypants slips off his black velvet bow tie, the only article of clothing he's still wearing at this point, settles into the nest of blankets and pillows next to her, nuzzles her cheek, and asks in a softer relative of the distinctive, genteel voice he uses in public, "Is something troubling you, my dear?"
"It's nothing," she answers, absently smoothing the line left in his fur by his tie with her snout. She considers contriving some endearing explanation, proceeding with a loving and passionate if not especially exciting roll in the sheets like they usually do, disposing of the as-yet-unnoticed package once he falls asleep, and forgetting she even considered roping him into her depraved fantasy, but as she raises her head, the knowing look in his eyes tells her she can't talk her way out. Even if he can't know exactly what's on her mind, he understands her better than anypony, and he knows she's deeply troubled. She closes her eyes to hide her tears and touches her lips to his in a kiss she knows may be their last.
Fancypants wraps his forelegs around her withers and holds her tight, feeling the tension in her muscles melt beneath the warmth of his touch. Finally, he breaks the kiss, wipes the tears from her eyes, and says, "You know you can tell me anything, Fleur."
"I know," Fleur says, surprising herself with the conviction in her voice. She knows she can tell him anything, even her deepest, darkest secrets. He may not be into the kinkier acts in which some members of the aristocracy engage, but neither is she. It's really just this one, and it's not like she's just his trophy wife. If he loves her as much as everything she knows about him says he does, he may not agree, but he'll at least understand. With that in mind, she lets a demure smile spread across her face, returns his hug, her cheek against his, brushes his curly cobalt mane back, and whispers into his ear, "I've just been thinking."
"That's nothing new, is it?" Fancypants asks. "I've always thought you were a rather thoughtful mare—certainly more so than the ponies who say otherwise. Have you been playing me for a fool all this time?"
The edges of her smile curling up a little more, Fleur pulls away to meet his eyes and nudges his shoulder with her hoof. The echo of truth in his accusation revives some of her discomfort, but his playful smile gives her confidence, and she presses on, "Before I answer that, perhaps you could do something for me."
Lowering his forelegs from her neck to prop up his torso as he lies on his side, Fancypants says, "Of course, my dear, anything."
Figuring there's no sense worrying now that there's no turning back, and if this is the end, she might as well enjoy it, Fleur lets her smile turn mischievous, lights her horn, levitates the nondescript package through the air from the nightstand, sets it on the sheets between then, and in response to his arched eyebrow, says, "You did say 'anything.'"
His eyes settling on the package, Fancypants levitates it off the sheets and cautiously peels back the layers of greasy wrapping paper. As he nears the final layer, the unmistakable stench assaults his nostrils, making him lose control his magical grip. The package falls back to the bed, its grease soaking into the sheets. Blanching noticeably through his white fur, he looks to her and asks, "Fleur, what is this?"
By way of explanation, Fleur calmly lifts the package in her magic and peels back the final layer to reveal a Fillydelphia cheese steak stuffed with a creamy, opaque cheese sauce, charred slices of pepper, mushroom, and onion, and fold upon shaved fold of seared, grease-perspiring flesh from some unidentifiable animal who may or may not have been sapient and consented to being butchered.
Fancypants finds his voice, but he doesn't address her so much as the green-and-red olive that stares back at him like a periscope from the toothpick skewering it into the submarine sandwich's upper bun, "My Goddess, Fleur, do you realize how scandalous being in possession of one of these is? Where did you even get it?"
"That's not really important, is it?" Fleur asks, caressing his chin with her hoof to draw his attention back to her.
"I should think not," Fancypants says, rises to his hooves, takes the sandwich in his magic, steps off the bed, and makes tracks for the door. "All that matters is getting rid of this thing before anypony catches us with it."
"Please don't be angry with me, Fancypants," Fleur says in a sad, vulnerable voice, not having moved from the bed.
Fancypants sighs, sets the sandwich on the nightstand by the door, and turns to her with eyes full of concern and confusion but little anger. "I'm not angry with you," he says as she climbs off the bed and walks over to him. "I'm angry with your decision. You could be imprisoned for this."
"I know," Fleur says, draping her forelegs over his broad withers, which easily support her slender frame, "but I also know you'd never turn me in. You care for me too much. That's why you're so upset."
"I love you, Fleur," Fancypants affirms. "I just don't want to see you hurt."
Fleur smiles and gives him a brief peck. "I love you too, Fancypants, and I'd never put myself in harm's way like this without a reason. All I ask is that you hear me out. Afterwards, if you still think it's a bad idea, I'll get rid of the Filly myself and never speak of it again."
"All right, Fleur," Fancypants concedes, "I suppose you deserve a chance to explain yourself." He lets her guide him back to the bed, settles in beside her once again, and listens intently as she describes her curious fantasy. The scent of her growing arousal and the passion with which she gives her explanation affects him profoundly, and when she finishes, he asks, "Before we were together, did you ever play this fantasy out with anypony?"
"I'd never dream of it," Fleur assures him, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. "I've wanted to do this for a long, long time, but I've always dismissed it as something that could never happen, for I'd never met anypony I could trust enough to even discuss it. That is, until I met you."
Smiling the genuine, heartwarming smile she knows and loves, Fancypants says, "In all honesty, I still find the whole idea a little unsettling, but what I said about doing anything for you wasn't hyperbole." He levitates the sandwich back over from the nightstand. "If this is what you really want, which I can plainly see that it is, I'm willing to set aside my reservations for the evening and give it to you. Scandal be damned."
Fleur gives him another peck and says, "Thank you, Fancypants. If it helps, you can think of me while you do it. In a roundabout way, I'll be thinking of you."
Fancypants rolls onto his back and kisses her neck as she leans over to caress his growing erection with her inner thigh, coaxing it forth from its sheath. His smile becomes strained as he watches her levitate the sandwich over and feels her pull away, but a tracing look up her hind legs and around her slender flanks to her moist vulva, obscured as it is by her massaging hoof despite her spreading her thighs in response to give him a better view, gives his libido the boost it needs.
Fleur aligns the sandwich with his glans and pulls the toasted buns apart on one end, allowing some of the thick, lukewarm sauce and bits of flesh to drip out onto his stomach. Sliding the sandwich three quarters of the way down, which is as far is it will go without him poking through the other side, she moans, the unique nature of telekinesis allowing her to feel every fold of shaved flesh, slice of charred vegetable, drop of warm sauce, and inch of toasted bread like extensions of her body as they mold around his erection.
It feels better than she ever imagined. If she closes her eyes, she can almost picture herself in the sandwich's place. As she begins to thrust the sandwich over his erection, the sensation of her hoof wedging between her vulva and rubbing circles around her spread labia magnifies tenfold, making her gasp, "Oh, my Goddess, yes!"
"This is certainly a unique experience," Fancypants observes as his eyes fall back to the sandwich repeatedly lurching toward him and sliding back over his erection in the aura of her magic.
Fleur giggles, a soft, harmonious sound that draws his attention back up past the rapid rise and fall of her chest to her smiling lavender eyes. She's so captivated by his loving smile that she doesn't notice him leaning in and reaching down with his foreleg until his hoof alights on her exposed underbelly and rubs circles in the thin fur over her smooth nipples, eliciting a little yelp and causing tingles of pleasure to radiate out from her belly. She presses into his hoof, reaches her free foreleg across his neck, closes her eyes, and brushes her lips against his.
Fancypants closes his eyes, parts her lips with his, and as their tongues reach out to meet each other, thinks back to the first time they ever kissed.
***
Fancypants lay on his back against the slightly damp grass next to Fleur with his head and shoulders propped up by his forelegs. Their conversation having petered out, they were content to watch in comfortable silence and enjoy each other's warmth and company as the sun setting behind them allowed the moon and stars to shine through the pastel orange-and-purple veil of the sky and cast amber light and sprawling shadows across Ponyville, the Everfree Forest, and the shoreline of Los Pegasus that was just visible past the distant mountain range.
The patches of snow that hadn't fully melted yet on account of their altitude trickled water over the edge of the cliff where the grass and trees laden with budding leaves that veiled the alcove from the rest of the park gave way to rocky outcrops, and the little green sparks from the myriad mating fireflies dancing overhead reflected in the streams, becoming ever brighter as the sunlight faded and the sky turned indigo.
When the twilight hours were nothing but a memory and the only illumination was provided by the moon emblazoned with a unicorn's visage, the surrounding stars, the fireflies, and the distant lights of Canterlot, Fancypants turned to Fleur with an unspoken question in his cerulean eyes.
Fleur turned her head to return his gaze, but a sudden gust made her shiver and blew her pink mane over her face like a shroud.
Fancypants turned the rest of his body to face hers, reached across with his free foreleg to brush her mane out of her lavender eyes, and felt her shiver again, but it was the good kind of shiver, the kind that gave him all the answer he needed. Stroking her cheek with his hoof before trailing it down her neck and draping it over her withers, he leaned in, closed his eyes, and touched his lips to hers. He kissed her timidly, their lips barely touching.
Fleur turned to wrap her forelegs around his withers, pressing her lips more forcibly against his, and pulled him into a hug, the soft fur of her underbelly mingling with his as his quickening heart beat against hers.
Fancypants broke the kiss first but stayed firmly locked in her embrace, their chests rising and falling in harmony as they gazed into each other's smiling eyes and panted for air.
Fleur recovered first, snuggled up against him, rolled onto her back, pulling him on top of her with his lower body between her slender thighs, hooked her hind legs around his haunches, and with her forelegs, pulled his head into a deeper, more passionate kiss.
***
"As he pants from the exertion of erecting his marble pillar in her picturesque gorge, the grooved alabaster horn standing tall against his forehead bobs before her parted lips. Swimming through the ocean of tactile ecstasy that saturates her senses to the island of coherent thought, where she devises a delectably devious plan, she raises her head from the cloud on which it lies and..." Fleur trailed off and silently read the next few lines from the story she had picked out to read with Fancypants on their anniversary, a blush steadily spreading across her cheeks. "Oh, my."
Fancypants, who lay snuggled against her side between the satin sheets beneath the thick, fluffy blankets, silently envying the pegasus pony in the story who could hug her delicate wings around her lover's back to add a whole new level of intimacy to their embrace, levitated his glass of fine red wine over from the end table, took another sip while turning the book to face him, read silently from where Fleur left off, and said with a barely noticeable slur, "I've never heard of such a curious practice before."
"Really?" Fleur asked in disbelief. The alcohol having loosened her lips, she added with a slightly wistful tone, "I've never tried it, myself, but I've certainly heard of it."
Fancypants turned to her with an arched eyebrow and curious smile, eyed her long, elegantly filed and polished horn, and said, "Well, I'm not usually into that sort of thing, but if this story isn't just spouting hyperbole, for us to go all our lives as unicorns and never know what we're missing would be a crime."
Her blush deepening, Fleur stammered adorably, "I, um, wow, okay, well, I mean, if you want to, I suppose giving it a try couldn't hurt, but if it's really as good as the story says, whichever one of us receives the, ah, stimulation first may not be able to return the favor for awhile."
"Why don't I do you first, then?" Fancypants suggested, his tone speaking of clear delight at her embarrassment as he reached his foreleg out to brush her neck soothingly. "If it's that good, I'll be content knowing I'm the one who did it to you and keeping you company while you recover."
"You're sweet," Fleur said and kissed him. "So, um, do you want to have any foreplay first, or shall we just jump right in?"
Fancypants answered with another kiss, and another, and another, gradually making his way from her lips to her cheek, temple, and forehead. Feeling her entire body quiver and hearing her pant in anticipation as his lips approached the base of her horn, he nibbled on her ear to give her a second to catch her breath. Then, without warning, he dragged his tongue up from the base of her horn all the way to the tip, feeling sparks of magical discharge and eliciting a delightful squeal. Knowing the answer, he asked, "You seemed to enjoy that. Shall I continue?"
"Oh, my Goddess, yes!" Fleur pleaded.
***
"As you wish, love," Fancypants said, having suggested to Fleur a moment ago that such a special occasion called for something a little different, something outside their usual routine, something they'd never really done before but he'd always wanted to try. In lieu of telling her what that something was, he began trailing kisses down her neck and chest while undoing the lacy strap of the her wedding gown with his magic, pulled the fabric aside to expose her belly and nether region, and suckled her sensitive nipples, causing her breath to catch in her throat before picking up as he continued his southward progression.
Looking up to meet Fleur's eyes with a devious grin, he pulled his lips away just above her vulva, eliciting a tortured whine as he diverted his attention to the ankle of her left hind leg and gradually made his way down to her thigh. Her breath picked up again and her accumulating natural lubricant smothered the air with the wonderful scent of her arousal as his lips drew closer and closer to their target, but he switched to kissing her other thigh at the last second.
"Fancypants!" Fleur cried, tilting her head down to look at him, the sight of his tongue so tantalizingly close to her vagina as her hind legs lay splayed open behind her further kindling the fire in her loins.
Fancypants nipped at the soft skin of her inner thigh, eliciting a twitch and a tiny yelp before smiling up at her and asking, "Yes, love?"
"Please," Fleur pleaded, her voice quavering as he licked her inner thigh like a dog cradling a bone.
"Please, what, love?" Fancypants asked, his innocent tone clashing with the devious glint in his eyes.
"Please, Fancypants," Fleur whispered, blushing scarlet, "put your tongue in my—aaah!" Her voice broke off into a squeal as he dragged his tongue up between her labia without warning, lapping up her sweet, tangy fluid before pushing back her hood and tugging on her exposed clitoris with his lips. Her head fell back against the bed, her back arched, and her hind legs squirmed in the air as his tongue rolled over her clitoris and she moaned in ecstasy, "Oh, Fancypants!"
***
"Um, Fancypants, what are you doing?" Fleur asks breathlessly. The kiss ended when Fancypants took to nibbling on her bottom lip, which gave her a thrill at the thought of being eaten and amplified the currents of pleasure his thrusting into the sandwich was sending through her glowing horn into every nerve in her body, but when his eyes were still closed as he started lapping at the fur on her cheek, she knew his mind was elsewhere, and she had a good idea where. His broad, wet tongue soothing the heat from the blood flushing her cheeks, she says more sternly into his ear, "Fancypants!"
Snapping his eyes open and stopping mid-lick, Fancypants pulls away, a blush to match hers bleeding through the white fur of his cheeks. "My apologies, Fleur... I seem to have gotten a little carried away."
Fleur hums, a smile spreading across her lips, which are still moist from their kiss. "Remembering our wedding night, were you?"
"Among other things, yes," Fancypants says, grinning sheepishly. "The first time we made love, for one." He lids his eyes and emits a soft moan as she grips the sandwich around his erection a little harder and thrusts a little faster, more bits of filling dripping out onto his stomach. Saying that the sensation is strange would be an understatement, but knowing what it's doing for her is enough to keep him erect. The fond memories help, too. In fact, they give him an idea.
Unbeknownst to him, Fleur is having the same idea, and she can barely hide the excitement in her voice as she suggests, "I was rather enjoying that, actually. Perhaps you could continue your, ah, oral ministrations. Though I do enjoy the attention, you needn't limit yourself to my face." She draws her hoof up from her vagina, lays on her back with her front and hind legs sprawled like a starfish, turns her head to him with a coy smile, and says, "Please, feel free to explore."
Fancypants returns her smile, licks his lips, earning an anticipatory shiver, and says huskily, "Well, I can't turn down an offer like that, now can I?"
"Mmm," Fleur moans in response as he nibbles along the edge of her ear. Her breath catches as he nips at the base, stinging the sensitive nerves in a way that's both pleasurable and a little painful and causes her to lose her magical grip for a moment, but his feather-light kisses soothe the momentary soreness and begin trailing down her cheek to her neck. His medium-length mane and mustache tickling the skin beneath her coat combined with his proximity and gentle ministrations further distract her from her magic, slowing her thrusting and reducing the relevant sensations for both of them, but he doesn't seem to mind, and neither does she. Sustaining the repetitive motion is strenuous, and she's content to take a break in favor of enjoying him enjoying her.
Fancypants continues trailing wet kisses down her chest and massages her ribs with his hooves, stopping every now and then to linger on an especially sensitive spot. As his kisses find their way to her belly, her breathing picks up and her skin twitches involuntarily with each little nibble, for they both know where he's headed. As his lips pass along the shallow indent between her nipples, he feels her body quiver, hears a soft moan escape her lips, makes his way up one of her nearly flat breasts, and swirls his tongue around her nipple while massaging the other with his hoof, earning a shiver, and as he begins suckling, a longer, deeper moan.
Her fluid drenching the area between her thighs, which aches in longing for his touch, Fleur is about to ask that he keep moving when she feels him kiss her nipple, making her lose her train of thought, brush his hooves along her inner thighs, pressing them further apart and sending electric bolts of pleasure down to her crotch, and start trailing kisses straight toward her vulva as his hooves circle around to squeeze her cutie marks. Her heart pounding, she begins panting with increased rapidity as he closes the last few inches. When he kisses her clitoris through its glistening hood, her breath catches in her throat and a wave of pleasure crashes over her groin, ripples out across her body, and washes her thoughts out to sea.
"I don't think I've ever seen you this wet," Fancypants comments before slathering her vulva with his tongue, drinking down her sweet, tangy fluid as more seeps forth from her folds to take its place.
Fleur writhes beneath him, her forelegs tucked against her chest and her hind legs shaking uncontrollably as sparks of pleasure tingle wherever his mouth passes over. She suppresses a squeal as his broad tongue wedges between her labia and probes around inside her, his lips and mustache tickling her sensitized vulva.
Fancypants withdraws to catch his breath and ask, "Have I ever told you how delicious you are, Fleur? I swear I can taste apricot."
Fleur knows what he means, having enjoyed the naughty thrill of licking the hoof she'd use to pleasure herself on the occasions when he was away on business, but all that comes out when she opens her mouth is the lovechild of a moan and a gurgle, so instead of answering, she grasps the mangled sandwich on the bed beside them in her magic, clamps it back around his firm erection, and resumes thrusting, the unique sensation drawing little more than a smirk from him but frying her nerves with fresh jolts of pleasure despite the absence of direct stimulation. Her mouth still hangs open when he plunges his tongue back into her vagina. The sensation amplifies the pleasure already racking her body, so her shallow attempts to breathe come out as panting gasps.
Fancypants presses her crotch into his face with his hooves, squeezes his tongue into her vagina as deep as it will go, and wiggles it around her warm inner vagina as her muscles flex against it. Delighted by her writhing and moaning and knowing she won't be able to hold out much longer, he goes for the kill.
Feeling his tongue retract, Fleur experiences a moment of confusion and glances down just in time to see him push her clitoral hood back with his lips and wrap them around the engorged, sensitized nub of flesh beneath before her head falls back against the sheets, her back arches involuntarily, her hind legs wrap around his head, locking his mouth against her vagina, and a squeal forces its way out of her throat, rising in pitch and volume as he suckles her clitoris, rolls it between his teeth, and flicks it with the tip of his tongue. She thrusts him into the sandwich as vigorously as her magic permits, the pressure that's been building in her loins bursts, and the tension that's wound her muscles up like springs releases. Her eyes clench and her limbs spasm as wave upon wave of orgasmic ecstasy floods over her body from her nether region, where he licks up the fluid spilling out of her quivering vagina unabated. She loses track of time as the pleasure overwhelms her thoughts and senses and destroys her magical focus.
Through it all, Fancypants keeps licking until the only wetness in and around her vagina is his own saliva and her body becomes still and limp, her only movement being the rise and fall of her chest. Her writhing body, her squealing, and her gush of intoxicating fluid as she orgasmed were extremely arousing, as is the musky scent that still hangs in the air and blends with the jasmine and vanilla, but not enough to have made him ejaculate into the sandwich. He likes to think he has a bit more dignity than that. He's only doing this for her, after all. For the moment, he's content knowing how intense an effect rewarded his efforts, but that complacency doesn't last long before inspiration strikes.
Meanwhile, Fleur is starting to remember important information like her name, race, and marital status. More complex concepts soon follow, such as her present location, the approximate time of day, and what just happened to her. With that last one in mind, she opens her eyes with the intent of offering her heartfelt thanks and sees him standing over her. Before she can ask what he has in mind, he leans in to kiss her. She tastes her faintly apricot-flavored fluid on his lips and feels his erection rub against her vulva. She's about to apologize for not getting him off when she notices that something stays behind after he pulls away, something hot, creamy, and interspersed with bits of something else.
She gazes into the space between their bodies past the rise and fall of her chest and sees his erection gazing back at her and coated in bits of the seared meat, sliced vegetables, and creamy sauce. The sight doesn't exactly make her mouth water, but it does make her wet somewhere else. She imagines she'll have trouble walking after that first mind-shattering orgasm, but the thought of feeling that inside her, of becoming the Fillydelphia cheese steak, takes her back to the peak of arousal. She reaches her forelegs down to slather the friction-heated residue over her vulva and hold her labia open for him, kisses him, and says, "Take me."
"As you wish, love," Fancypants says, aligns his erection with her spread labia, and gradually, inch by inch, slides into her vagina, which stretches to accommodate him as the creamy, cheesy sauce squelches between them and provides extra lubrication.
Her breathing picking up and her heart racing as he fills her as deeply as their bodies permit, Fleur gazes into his cerulean eyes and finds herself overcome with the urge to hug him, kiss him, and feel his body close to hers. She wraps her hind legs around his haunches loosely enough for him to thrust fluently, drapes her forelegs over his withers, hugging his chest against hers, and pulls him into a passionate, open-mouthed kiss, her tongue reaching out to meet his. His quickening heart beating against hers excites her further, as does the resistance she meets upon clenching her vagina to signal that she's ready.
Fancypants breaks the kiss, smiles down at her lovingly, slowly pulls out to where his glans barely holds her open, and slides back in only marginally faster, the way she likes. When they're once again face to face, eye to eye, and heart to heart, he kisses her softly, briefly, and whispers, "I love you, Fleur. I hope you never doubt that."
Fleur grins up at him, tears welling in her eyes at the memory of how close she thought she was to losing him less than an hour ago. He's long since chased away her fears, but hearing him say it still makes her heart soar. She whispers back, "I love you too, Fancypants, more than words can hope to express."
Fancypants kisses her forehead just below her horn, eliciting an adorable giggle. "I've always put more stock in actions than words."
Fleur's grin fades into a thoughtful smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
Feeling her signaling for him to continue once again, Fancypants repeats the cycle of pulling out and sliding back in, easing them both into it by accelerating ever so slightly with each repetition and making eye contact on each inward thrust until the pleasure overrides their coordination, which doesn't take long, given that he's still worked up from their last round and she's riding on the heightened arousal of imagining herself as a Fillydelphia cheese steak.
Becoming acutely aware of the mixed scents of their arousal, the sweat matting their coats, and the sandwich lying alone and forgotten on the sheets beside them and feeling his fur brushing against her chest, belly, and inner thighs, his heart pounding from exertion, her heart pounding from rapturous elation, the friction-heated sauce between his erection and her inner vagina, and the rapid alternation between cavernous emptiness and complete fullness, Fleur knows she's teetering on the brink of orgasm and can tell from the impaired fluidity in his thrusting that he is too.
Confirming her suspicions, Fancypants says between panting breathes, "Fleur, I can't... hold out... much longer."
"I know," Fleur says with considerably less difficulty. "I want you to finish inside me."
His thrusting becoming ever more erratic and his breath coming out in ever more ragged gasps, Fancypants gives one final, valiant thrust, plunging into her as deeply as he can. Her hind legs clench around his haunches, preventing him from pulling out. The strength keeping his forelegs propped up wanes as pleasure washes over him like the warm shower he's going to need afterwards, and he rolls onto his side, taking her with him and gazing into her brilliant lavender eyes.
The thick, sticky gobs of his ejaculate shooting into Fleur and filling her every crevasse complete her fantasy, but what pushes her over the edge into the throes of a second orgasm is the genuine, loving look in his eyes as he holds her shuddering body against his. She smiles and musters the coordination to touch her lips to his and hold the kiss until the waves of pleasure recede like the tide. In retrospect, it's not as powerful as her first, but there's a greater element of emotional and physical intimacy that stays with her and keeps her warm long after she recovers. Breathing through her nose helps her sustain the kiss longer, but she still has to break for air eventually.
Having had more time to recover, Fancypants waits for her to catch her breath before saying, "I hope that wasn't a decision made in the heat of the moment."
"It wasn't," Fleur assures him, snuggling a little closer and smiling a little smile upon feeling him still firmly inside her. "I was worried earlier that you might want a divorce after hearing about my depraved fantasy, but upon seeing that you were willing to go through with it just to see me happy, that your only objection was that my actions could have gotten me into trouble, that you really care for me and would never leave me, I thought about what we've been discussing these last few weeks, and I decided I wanted to be the mare to bear your foals."
Tears welling in his eyes, Fancypants hugs her tighter and says, "I'd only ever leave you if I found out you were a serial killer or something, and even then, I'd try to get you treatment first. You neither have to worry about me leaving you over the next eleven months nor the next eleven years. After that, well, I don't know how long I'll live, but I know I want to grow old."
Fleur kisses him and wipes the tears from his eyes as he does the same for her. "I know, and I can't imagine how I hadn't realized that before, but I couldn't be happier to hear you say it."
"Ponies more concerned with appearances, like that pompous blowhard Prince Blueblood," Fancypants says, earning a smirk, "may think of you as my trophy wife or some such nonsense, but that couldn't be farther from the truth. I love you, Fleur, because unlike any of the other mares who've vied for my attention, you didn't want to marry me for my status or fortune. You wanted to marry me for who I am, and I wanted to marry you for who you are."
"I guess I was worried because this is a side of me you haven't really seen before, but I love that you even love the things you don't know about me yet."
"Learning those things about each other, embracing the good, and enduring the bad can only bring us closer together."
"I wouldn't have held it against you if you weren't, but that you were willing to do this for me means a lot to me, Fancypants," Fleur says, gesturing to the sandwich, "but I think I can safely say it'll be a onetime thing. Looking back, I can't imagine why it turned me on such, but I know your willingness to do something so silly, so depraved, and so potentially dangerous just to make me happy is part of what made it so sexy."
"I love to see you happy, Fleur, and so long as it doesn't entail needless danger, I'll do everything in my power to make you so. That is to say, if we ever do this again, we'll have to find a vegetarian alternative."
Fleur giggles, "I'm fine with that."
"In all fairness, though," Fancypants says with a playful smile, tracing his hoof down her spine, "you owe me something for this."
Smiling, Fleur says, "That seems fair. How might I go about repaying you?"
"Before today, I never knew you had an experimental side—discounting how we make love face to face, of course—and I was content to leave it at that, but now that I know, I've gotten to thinking, and I happen to have a few fantasies of my own that I'd like to play out with you."
Fleur arches an eyebrow and asks, "What do you have in mind?"
Fancypants leans over and whispers in her ear.
"Oh, my," Fleur says, her eyes widening and a blush staining her cheeks.
Fancypants pulls back and asks, "Do you think you'd be up for that?"
"Yes," Fleur answers breathlessly, still blushing. "I think that's well within the realm of possibility, but we should probably get cleaned up first."
Fancypants reluctantly lets go of her and feels her slide off his still-erect penis, the slightest bit of opaque fluid streaming down her inner thigh as she stands. He watches with mild amusement as she hobbles toward the bathroom.
Fleur stops by the door, looks back curiously, and asks, "Aren't you coming?"
"Well, I can't turn down an offer like that, now can I?" Fancypants asks and gets up to join her.
Noticing the faint smirk still twisting the corner of his lips, Fleur sticks her tongue out at him.
Fancypants chuckles, nuzzles her neck, and shuts the door behind them.
The gurgle of running water echoes through, and after a few seconds, so does an exhilarated gasp in Fleur's voice, "Oh, Fancypants!"