Feeling more than a little maudlin, Bucky watched as Shining Armor played on the floor with Cadance. The room was crowded and there was much excitement about the Grand Galloping Gala. Shining Armor was laughing and Cadance squealed with excitement when Twilight Velvet, Twilight Sparkle and Shining Armor’s mother, picked her up, squeezed her, and blew a raspberry against her stomach.

Night Light was having a quiet conversation with Luna, who had Erebus. Tourmaline was prancing about the room, delighting in all of the good feelings to be had here. Tourmaline’s presence confused Bucky a great deal—little Cadance adored Tourmaline, but Cadance was still just a little skittish around Crisis. But Cadance was warming up to Crisis, which made Bucky hopeful.

Twilight Sparkle was having an animated discussion with Lugus about the future of Griffonwood and how important it was to her vision of the future of Equestria. Yew Wood sat beside her husband, but remained silent during the conversation, choosing to listen and learn.

Rainbow Dash, Derpy, and Flash Sentry were discussing Rainbow’s growing belly, and Rainbow Dash showed off her increased muscle mass. Pregnancy had been good for the rainbow maned pegasus—she had never been in better health or condition.

Without warning, Pinkie Pie exploded into the room, she was giggling, her eyes bright with mischief, and she had Cheese Sandwich hot on her heels. Both had manic rictuses of glee and clouds of confetti swirled around them. Before Bucky could even register what was happening, everybody in the room had their drinks refreshed, food had been laid out, and much to Bucky’s surprise, he found a tall, frosty tumbler in his talons filled with a mysterious drink.

As he sniffed it, Pinkie Pie vanished, muttering something about the big party involving the Stable of Representatives. His drink appeared to be some sort of frozen banana smoothie spiked with high test rum. Bucky’s nose crinkled a bit as he looked at the little paper parasol in his glass, and then, shrugging, he slurped up some through a straw.

Closing his eyes, Bucky realised there was a lot more than just rum in his glass. He tasted notes of chocolate liqueur, some kind of honey based booze, and other things that he couldn’t quite make out. It burned like the fires of Tartarus going down his throat. Pinkie knew how to make a fantastic mixed drink, but Bucky suspected that most ponies would be in a coma before finishing the glass.

He was thankful that he wasn’t most ponies.

The spring session had gone better than anypony could have hoped. Much had been accomplished and the representatives were looking forward to the summer session, which was being extended because this one had gone so well. Twilight Sparkle’s harmonisation of Canterlot had been wildly successful. The city felt alive again. There was a new sense of purpose. A feeling of accomplishment.

A feeling that anything was possible.

Bucky’s ears perked as Cadance let out another joyful squeal and then began to babble to Shining Armor, a never ending stream of almost incomprehensible foal talk done at high speed. Bucky could only make out a few words, such as bath, bubbles, and boats. He took a long pull through his straw and felt the burn. He was going to have to give Pinkie a hug for this. No doubt, she would try to kiss him… and Cheese too if Bucky didn’t keep his guard up.

Without warning, Bucky was quite taken by surprise. Thistle slunk up beside him, pressed up against him, and, much to his shock and surprise, the saucy kelpie licked him. Bucky sat frozen as the kelpie’s rough tongue slithered up his cheek, and then he felt the tip lingering in his ear, tickling him. His eyes went wide and Bucky could not help but wonder if anypony had seen what Thistle had just done.

Giggling, Thistle fled the room, and Bucky, after finishing off his drink in one gulp, went off to follow Thistle, wondering what the seductive kelpie was up to. As he departed, Bucky belched and spit out the little paper parasol that had been in his drink.

Thistle was leading him on quite a chase. He paused, sniffed, and tried to figure out which direction the kelpie had gone, his talons scritchy-scratching on the floor. A wide, manic grin was on Bucky’s face. He could smell arousal and Thistle’s unique kelpie fragrance.

Ahead, he heard giggling. He picked up his pace, enjoying his hunt. He could wink right to her location, but what would be the fun in that? He would find her soon enough, and when he did… he had plans for his kelpie.

He moved past a group of guards and he heard them chuckling. He ignored the lunar pegasi and kept going. He was getting close. He could smell her… her scent was so strong that he was drooling. His ears picked up the sound of a door opening and closing ahead.

It wasn’t long until he reached the door and he pushed it open. He looked around, taking in the small, private garden. Overhead, the moon was almost full and it was bright. The night air was filled with the scent of lunar gardenias. The scent teased his nose and made him feel giddy. Lunar creatures were susceptible to lunar gardenias in much the same way that griffons were affected by catnip. Between the mixed drink he had just imbibed and the flowers, Bucky felt light headed, woozy, he felt amazing.

He staggered through the garden, his eyes darting about, looking for any sign of his kelpie. And she was his kelpie. Bucky was very, very possessive of his lucky fae water spirits, both the little one and the bigger one. He had been snuggling and smooching Bell Heather every chance he could since the little kelpie had been brought to Canterlot. Now, he needed to catch the most elusive prey, the mother kelpie. He had a mind to shag her rotten until they were both utterly knackered.

Sniffing, Bucky checked the wind to see what he could find. There was a faint hint of something floral and something musky. His tongue lolled out and he found himself quite overtaken by some primal feeling welling up deep within him. Throwing his head back, Bucky howled, a mournful, yet somehow terrifying sound. Lunar pegasi howled for any number of reasons, Sentinel had even done it on occasion, and now Bucky found himself baying at the moon, trying to summon his mate, no longer wanting to be a lonesome lunicorn.

“Aroooo?”

The howl that was returned wasn’t a real howl of a lunar creature establishing dominance over the night, but it was a valiant effort nonetheless. Bucky’s ears perked and his orange tongue dangled from his lips as he panted in the cool night time air of spring.

Stepping around a hedge, Bucky found his prey, almost bumping snoots with her. He could see her trembling with excitement… anticipation… her eyes glimmered in the moonlight. With a savage growl, he pushed Thistle over in the grass and stepped over her.

She rolled over onto her back, revealing herself to Bucky, hiding nothing. Her waterweed mane and tail spread out around her body. The pink blossoms in both her mane and her tail glistened with dewdrop moisture in the moonlight, a bright lurid pink, something almost labial.

Drooling, Bucky pressed his nose down to Thistle’s navel. She had filled out a lot since her pregnancy. She had filled in. She had curves now in all of the right places. Her stomach was firm, well muscled, but also soft. Her teats, down between her spread thighs, young, perky teats that pointed skywards, were plump and inviting.

“This is my fifteenth spring,” Thistle whispered to Bucky as his nose snuffled over her stomach. Looking up, Thistle could see that Bucky was happy to see her. Something dangled above her face.

Bucky did not reply, but his nose traveled along Thistle’s body, sniffling, drinking in her scent through his nose. He pressed his muzzle into the crease of flesh between her plump teat and the inside of her thigh, burying himself into the fragrant crevasse, and inhaled. Beneath him, Thistle twitched and giggled. His nose pressed into other places, trailing over one teat, then the other, and then he snuffled around along her other thigh, pressing himself in to the warm fold of flesh where her hind leg connected to her hip. The scent of her sweat was sweet, seductive, it was electrifying in his nose just as much as the lunar gardenias were.

Grunting, Bucky pushed his nose down into the soft, velvet flesh between Thistle’s teats and began moving up her stomach, towards her belly button, sniffing along every inch, his lips and his snoot trailing over her fevered, quivering flesh. The same fevered, quivering flesh that had once caused Bucky no end of internal debate on if it was wrong to love Thistle and desire her. In his almost animalistic state, there was no moral debate. The kelpie was a receptive female of breeding age and the smell of her desire was unmistakable.

Laughing, Thistle’s hind legs kicked upwards, she grabbed Bucky’s head between her hocks, and twisting her body around, she slammed Bucky down into the grass. She tossed a foreleg over his body, just past his ribs, and she pushed her muzzle between his hind legs.

Bucky’s whole body froze when he felt a hot, wet tongue lapping up against his own fevered flesh, leaving him slick with kelpie spit. He lay on his side, with Thistle’s head tucked between his hind legs. He twisted his lower half around a bit and opened his legs up, so that she might have an easier time, and much to his delight, Thistle did the same. Turnabout was fair play, after all. He grabbed Thistle around her slender middle and plunged his muzzle right into her arousal swollen snatch, stuck out his tongue, and began to work his way into her depths.

Thistle wasn’t playing around—she was already trying to wrap her muzzle around his girth, so Bucky skipped the hors d'oeuvres and went right for the main course. Bucky suddenly found it difficult to do anything; Thistle was applying so much suction that he could feel his eyeballs being tugged back into his skull. She was swallowing him again, as if he was a slippery trout to be eaten. He could feel her tongue undulating against his shaft. He tried to focus upon her delectable, cute little nubbin, but found that he could not. His eyes rolled back into his head as she gulped, swallowing down even more of his length.

He could feel himself being devoured and it was quite different than being eaten by wolves—in fact, Bucky didn’t mind at all. He quite liked being eaten alive by a kelpie. His claws clutched the grass and dug into the dirt as Thistle somehow found it in her to apply even more suction and Bucky’s eyes rolled back into his head as his chin dropped against Thistle’s mons. He was powerless to resist her seductive charms. He gripped Thistle’s body and held on, almost begging for sweet release, unable to do anything else at the moment. His hips began bucking in a slow, methodical manner, and Bucky was unaware that he was humping Thistle’s face. He wasn’t aware of much of anything other the rising pressure in his balls. He squeezed Thistle’s midsection and pressed his cheek against the sopping wet cleft between Thistle’s ever so inviting thighs.

Laying the way they were, Thistle had a good angle. She had taken him all in and he could now feel the hot, wet breath of her nostrils against his balls, her almost breathless snuffling against his fuzzy sack excited him in a way that few other things did.

Thistle was gushing now, Bucky could feel it soaking his cheek, and somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice was screaming at him that he needed to repay the favour back to Thistle when this was over, and it was about to be over.

Taken over by instinct, Bucky’s talons clenched into a fist, ran down Thistle’s back, along her neck, along her crest, and grunting, unable to help himself, he clutched the kelpie’s head as his hips began bucking uncontrollably. He hit the point of no return, his instincts urging him to worm his way in ever deeper, and he could feel Thistle’s tight throat swallowing all around him. Her breathing was frantic against his balls, he could feel her explosive, excited snorts.

Stars filled Bucky’s vision as the dam broke. He sent a jet of hot, sticky foal batter straight down Thistle’s gullet and into her stomach. Thistle was his only wife that liked the taste of his semen and didn’t find it nausea inducing. His hips made a few more spastic humps against Thistle’s muzzle, and each thrust caused him to squirt out a fresh load. He could feel Thistle suckling on his throbbing cock, slurping along his length, not wanting to waste a single, sticky drop.

After a few more pumps against her muzzle, Bucky went still, laying on his side in the grass. He could feel himself beginning to soften in Thistle’s throat. He felt her swallowing, the flesh of her throat tugging and pulling at his length, and much to Bucky’s surprise, he found that he had one last spurt to give. It came out with a painful spasm, making his balls ache, and his whole body shuddered as his buttocks clenched and he slammed his balls against Thistle’s nose.

He lay there, panting, his sides heaving, and then there was cool night air on his cock. He shivered, the wet slobber on his pecker making everything feel chillier. He heard Thistle giggling and then the kelpie let go of a ferocious belch. Bucky rolled over onto his back, spread his legs, and tried to cool off. Parts of him felt far too warm and the cold night air felt good against his slobber soaked skin.

Thistle belched again as she sat up, and the kelpie could not stop tittering.

“Hey, Bucky…”

Bucky was unable to reply. He lay on the grass with his eyes crossed, trying to recover, his hind legs twitching, his hips still spasming.

“Hey… you…” Thistle prodded her husband with her hoof. “It’s time to return the favour… I’m all worked up…”

Bucky groaned as Thistle wiped her mouth with her foreleg. He felt her lean down close to him, he could feel her breathing on him as her muzzle drew closer to his ear. He shuddered, still seeing stars and reeling from what Thistle had done to him.

“Hey, Bucky,” Thistle said in a seductive whisper, invoking her talent, “how does it feel to have a wife that’s a natural born cocksucker?” Before Bucky could reply, Thistle nipped his tufted ear and collapsed into the grass once more by his side. She cuddled up against him, glad to see him happy, and hoped that he would recover soon.

Thistle was happy to have a husband that was a connoisseur of filly flank steak, or as Berry liked to put it, “A well known gobbler of hot crotch cobbler.”

Author's Notes:

In the next garden over, the high society ponies hear everything.