The elevator doors slide open in front of her – elevator doors. She still can't get over that. With the state of her own dorm, she's surprised these elevators exist, and double-surprised that they aren't covered in graffiti and broken glass and dried vomit.

Twilight steps out onto the third floor. She's feeling good – more than good, better than good. Her backpack is gone, along with her sweater vest. She's replaced her frumpy jeans with a fetching little skirt, just short enough to give her a bit of scandalous thrill. She walks, easy and relaxed, mostly at peace with the universe.

There's an open lounge to her right as she steps out. As usual, the TV is on and someone is sitting there with their back to the elevators. As not usual, that person has long pink hair.

"Fluttershy?" Twilight strays off her path, wandering into the common room.

"Hmm? Oh... hi." Fluttershy looks up, just enough to give a short, friendly smile. Then she tears her eyes back to the TV.

"What are you..." Twilight trails off as she sees the man on the screen.

"...That's no joke, friends. Iron Will is so confident that you will be one hundred percent satisfied with Iron Will's assertiveness techniques, that if you are not one hundred percent satisfied... you! Pay! Nothing!"

Twilight cringes as she watches the man strike a different pose on each syllable.

Is he wearing a suit with... the sleeves cut off?

She covers her mouth with one hand, shaking her head, holding in withering laughter. She's about to say something appropriately witty, but the man on the TV screen cuts her off.

"I wanna hear you yell if you're tired of being a pushover!"

"Mmm," Fluttershy nods gently, munching on popcorn.

"Yell if you're tired of being a doormat!"

"Wooooo," Fluttershy says quietly.

Twilight gags loudly, wondering who would ever pay to listen to this idiot. "Wow," she says, "this is actually pretty funny."

"Funny?" Fluttershy looks up at her with nothing but blank confusion.

"There you guys are!" Rainbow Dash enters loudly. "Alright, ladies, you ready to – aw man, 'Shy, you're watching THIS guy again?"

"Again?" Twilight's eyes practically bug out.

Fluttershy hugs her bag of popcorn to her chest, protecting it. "...He turns doormats into dynamos."

"He turns stupid people's money into more steroids for his show-muscles," Rainbow Dash says. "Look at him! He's all... leathery."

"He has a healthy tan," Fluttershy whispers.

"He looks like a meat-monster," Twilight says.

"He's a bodybuilder," Fluttershy says with a pout.

"Whatever." Rainbow Dash snatches the remote off the couch.

"Now, to demonstrate that Iron Will's techniques will work for..." The man's gruff voice disappears as the TV screen goes dead.

"Oh." Fluttershy pouts harder.

"Guy probably has a tiny dick anyway," Rainbow Dash says.

"He does NOT!" Fluttershy says, glaring at her roommate.

Twilight and Dash freeze, just blinking at their friend with bemused smirks.

"Um... I mean..." Fluttershy shrinks against the couch, a mortified parody of herself.

"No, it's alright. I'm sure he's hung like a gorilla," Twilight says with a smug, clever smile.

"Mmm!" Fluttershy nods vigorously.

"Eww, Twilight!" Rainbow Dash says. She only looks grossed out for a second. "I know she likes 'em big," she nods towards Fluttershy, who squeaks and slams her eyes to the floor. "But you? Eww."

"No, they..." Twilight starts to explain, but can't quite finish that sentence. "Nevermind."

Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes and ruffles Fluttershy's hair, wearing a weary, "What can you do?" kind of smile. "Come on. Let's head out."

So they do. They make their way outdoors, the three of them walking side-by-side, Rainbow Dash in the middle with her girls flanking her.

They don't talk much. It's a strangely quiet night – the campus seems deserted, an empty Friday. A sharp Autumn wind whirls around them, pulling drifts of brittle leaves along the ground. They walk on, down the hill, past dorms and small square fields and then veering off, away from the quad. Towards town.

Twilight tries hard not to shiver, folding her arms around herself and rubbing them. She should've worn a jacket, but none of the ones she owns seem right anymore – they all look hopelessly frumpy. Obsolete. She wonders if Rainbow Dash would even notice if she looked frumpy.

"What are you, cold?" Rainbow Dash says.

Twilight stiffens up, pretending for just a second that she isn't. "...Yes," she says.

Without a word, Rainbow Dash drifts closer and loops an arm around Twilight, pulling her in by the hip. Her other arm rubs Twilight's shoulder, pulled snug against Dash's track jacket. It's instant relief, even if it's a little awkward to walk now.

Twilight glances past her paramour. Fluttershy is conspicuously looking ahead, maybe even away slightly. Twilight knows by now that it's nothing malicious – just Fluttershy being Fluttershy. She used to feel like she should be jealous of the pink-haired girl, but those feelings turned out to be patently, obviously ridiculous. Fluttershy is as harmless as her name would suggest, even if she looks like she could wreck every home.

They walk on, down a large, quiet, empty street. Off to the side, only glimpsed through gaps between townhouses, Twilight can see the lake. Well, really, she can see the black expanse where the lake sits, swallowing the measly light around it.

They reach downtown in just a few minutes. "Downtown" consists of a few short streets and a few more empty shopfronts, interspersed with cheap restaurants and bars. It's far from what Twilight pictures when she hears the words "college town." All that she can think when she sees this place is a town that's seen better days.

Twilight's never been here. Not like this, at night. It's not quite quiet and empty, there are people walking around here and there and music drifting out from bars, but it's still nothing like she imagined. She nestles closer against Rainbow Dash, hiding against her under the streetlamps.

Dash leads them up to the closest pub. A man is waiting at the door, a mean-looking dude with a shaved head and a very cheap leather jacket. He stares them down as they approach.

Rainbow Dash shoves Fluttershy in front of them, grinning as the poor girl squeals loudly.

"Alright, you got any –" the man starts to ask. His eyes slide down to Fluttershy's chest. She's wearing a thick yellow sweater, but even it can't properly contain her boundless breasts. The man looks duly impressed, and he waves her in. Fluttershy enters the bar as apologetically as possible.

Twilight's heart unwinds a little.

Well, that was easy.

She gets just a little less worried about the card in her pocket with the words UNDER 21 printed right above her picture.

Rainbow Dash steps up next, still holding Twilight at her side. She proudly hands the bouncer her license.

"Huh." He cocks one eyebrow. "You're thirty-seven?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Dash says with plenty of leftover sass.

The bouncer rolls his eyes. "And you?" he says to Twilight.

"Uh..."

"She's with me. It's cool," Rainbow Dash says.

"Sure, it's cool. Soon as I see some ID," the bouncer says.

"What is this crap?" Rainbow Dash barks. "I said she's cool."

Twilight shrinks into the girl at her side – the bouncer was kind of leaning against the entrance, relaxed and bored. Now he stands up straight, obviously flexing and trying to look bigger.

"You show me ID," he says right at Twilight, "or you walk."

Twilight gulps loudly. She feels Rainbow Dash's hand tighten at her hip, the fingertips digging into her shirt.

But then a huge guy in a red work shirt pokes his head out from the bar.

"Hey." He waves at the bouncer.

"'Sup, Mac?" The bouncer smiles easily.

"They're with us."

"Yeah? Cool, alright." The bouncer waves them through.

Rainbow Dash drags her inside, muttering some smug things while glaring at the door man. Twilight stiffly follows, still high on panic.

The bar is a narrow, dim, cramped room, crammed full of as many tables and chairs as can fit in the small space. Twilight can't even begin to make sense of it – the noise alone, the pure noise, a cacophony of loud voices and TVs and music blaring all at once, muddling together into an assault on her ears.

The huge guy in the red shirt is right in front of them. He's solid, a mountain of a man, with freckles that give him just a hint of boyish cute. Rainbow Dash goes right up to him.

"Hey, thanks for..." she trails off, because he hasn't noticed them at all. He's too busy listening to Fluttershy, leaning in a little to pick up her gentle words.

"...That was really nice of you," she finishes.

"Hey, anytime," he says, giving her a smile like he means plenty more.

"You know this guy?" Rainbow Dash says. Fluttershy and Mac startle a little, just now remembering that other people do, in fact, exist.

"Oh, sorry. This is Mac," Fluttershy nudges the big man, sidling up close to him to do so. He gives a polite little wave. "I had a practicum at his farm last year."

"Ain't my farm," he cuts in gently. "Family's."

"Right, right." Fluttershy smiles, wider than Twilight's ever seen. "His family's farm."

"Nice to meet you...?" Mac says.

"Rainbow Dash." She practically puffs her chest out, posing for maximum awesomeness.

"Twilight," Twilight says quietly.

"Pleasure," he says. His way of talking is strange to Twilight – it's more than just the accent. It's his slow drawl, lazily rolling his words out. He looks over his shoulder. "This here's my sis, Applejack."

A tall blonde appears out of nowhere, her cheeks sprinkled with the same freckles as her brother. Twilight feels a guilty rush just looking at the girl – she's tanned, and built, and has an absolute knockout of a figure, much as she tries to hide it behind dirty, simple clothes.

"Howdy," she says. "Jus' AJ's fine."

Twilight instantly feels a void next to her – Dash's arm is gone, and the rainbow-haired girl walks right up to the new arrival.

"You can not be serious," Dash says. "Howdy? And the hat?"

They all stare at the beat-up brown stetson on Applejack's head.

"What's wrong with my hat?" Applejack glares.

"Nothing." Rainbow Dash is obviously holding in a mean laugh. She points at Applejack's sneakers. "I think you lost your cowboy boots, though."

"I might lose one up yer ass, you keep on like that," Applejack says.

"AJ," Mac says with plenty of worry.

"Wow, you wanna touch my ass? And I thought you local girls were boring," Rainbow Dash says.

Applejack scoffs loudly. "Yeah, no, how could a lowly farm girl ever compare to a college co-ed?" She puts a bent hand to her forehead in a mockery of daintiness, raising her voice. "Ooh, I'm at college! I'm gonna drink half a light beer and kiss a girl! That'll piss off my dad, but not enough so he'll stop sending money!"

"Hey, I'm on a scholarship!" Rainbow Dash barks, suddenly very angry. "And I could drink your wannabe-Dixie ass under any table."

"Little thing like you couldn't drink a dog under a footstool. You college idiots – thinkin' you got grit just 'cause you threw up a few times." Applejack shakes her head, grinning.

"That's it! You and me! Shots! NOW!" Rainbow Dash jabs a finger into the taller girls chest with each sentence.

Twilight blinks rapidly, not sure how things are happening so quickly. Suddenly, Rainbow Dash and this new girl, this buxom blonde knockout, are sitting together at a tiny table, yelling for shots to be lined up. People all around the bar take notice, cheers and whoops ring out.

Mac sighs loudly and shakes his head. Fluttershy puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Let's just sit," she almost whispers.

Twilight follows them, not looking away from Rainbow Dash for an instant. Dash – her Rainbow Dash – is eagerly eyeing Applejack, grinning with that sexy, predatory, almost angry smile that she gets when...

When she's about to pounce on ME.

Twilight sits, barely cognizant of anything but the spectacle going on a few tables over. The competitors each raise their first drink, looking each other in the eye. For a long time. Just staring, smiling, like they're about to just knock the table over and do it right then and there on the filthy bar floor.

They're not going to do THAT what is wrong with me?

They drink, and people go wild around them, cheering them on. They slam their glasses down. They reach for another. They say things, probably flirty, sexy things. Twilight can't hear. She can feel her brow furrowing, her eyes narrowing at the beautiful, terrible Rainbow Dash.

"Miss?"

"Huh?" Twilight tears her eyes away. A waitress is waiting, standing right next to her with her pencil raised.

"Oh... I need a second," Twilight says.

The waitress nods and moves on down the line.

"A Shirley Temple," Fluttershy says.

"Alright, we do our Dirty Shirleys with vodka or rum, which do you want?"

"Um... neither."

"Okay, you... wait, what?" The waitress almost moves on to Mac.

"Neither. Just a Shirley Temple," Fluttershy says.

"Oh... kay..." The waitress shrugs. "What about you, handsome?"

Mac orders something. Twilight has no idea what it was – Rainbow Dash is pointing at Applejack's chest, saying something. Something naughty and mean, she can tell by Dash's smile. Pointing at Applejack's magnificent chest, reigned in by a checkered orange shirt, tied instead of buttoned, over a low-cut white tank top. Twilight can see freckles on AJ's skin, freckles that must go down further. The crowd around them laughs.

"And you?"

"Oh!" Twilight tears her eyes away again. "I'll have... uh... a... beer?"

The waitress stops just short of rolling her eyes. "We have..." she embarks on a long list of names, names Twilight isn't exactly familiar with. Then she's finished, and Twilight is just sitting there with all eyes on her.

What is this? Isn't beer just that thing idiot guys always want you to come over and drink?

"What kind do you like?" Mac leans over the table towards her. "Stout or lager or what?"

"Stout," Twilight says instantly, mostly because it was first on the list. It sounds solid and plain, though, and she quickly feels it was the right choice.

Mac gives her an impressed nod and then orders her a pint of something. Twilight barely listens, she can't stop staring at Rainbow Dash, feeling something hot and loud and angry rumbling low in her gut.

Applejack leans over their table and tears the zipper of Dash's jacket down, pulling it open, exposing the t-shirt covering Rainbow Dash's modest, sleek chest. The crowd around them erupts into a chorus of "Ooooooooooh!" and Rainbow Dash laughs wildly.

"Mac?" Twilight turns her back on the horrible spectacle. "Does your sister have a boyfriend?"

Mac snorts loudly. "Not likely."

What?! WHAT?!

"Is she into girls?" Twilight asks urgently.

"Whoa," Mac holds his hands up. "None of my business. Yours either, come to think of it."

Twilight fumes on her seat, wondering how such a nice-looking guy could be so devious. "Fluttershy?"

Fluttershy cringes as if struck, surrendering to Twilight instantly. Twilight searches for words, a question to ask, anything, she's not sure why she's even glaring at the poor pink-haired girl.

"You've known Dash for a long time, right?" Twilight asks.

"Mmm-hmm. Since before college," she says.

Twilight balks a little. She hadn't known that. "Well... what is she doing?"

"Having a drinking contest with Mac's little sister?" Fluttershy offers.

Twilight groans and viciously rolls her eyes.

"Is something wrong?" Fluttershy asks.

"No!" Twilight almost yells. "No, nothing is wrong and everything is fine." She slams her elbows onto the table, resting her chin on her hands so she can angrily stare at the other side of the bar.

Dash snatches a drink out of Applejack's hand, mere inches from her lips, and downs it herself. Applejack goes to steal one of Dash's drinks in return, and they lock arms as they struggle over it, pushing and pulling against each other, hands clasped onto arms, flexing and writhing and...

"Who does she think she is?" Twilight growls.

"Uh..." Mac raises a finger.

"Right, sorry, not your sister. Her. The other one." Twilight intensifies her glare.

"Um..." Fluttershy mutters.

"No, I know she's your friend and all. But seriously," Twilight throws her hands up. "Why would she do that? She knows how uncomfortable it makes me when she... hits... on..."

Fluttershy and Mac are staring at her, more than confused.

"Sorry," Twilight mutters, tapping her fingers on the table.

They sit silently for a few seconds. Twilight nervously shifts her eyes back and forth at the rest of the table, but they seem to only be staring at each other.

"You guys are right, I shouldn't let it upset me," Twilight says. She's fighting hard to keep her eyes from wandering over, especially every time the cheers pick up. "I guess it was silly of me to think..." she trails off, leaving a forlorn pause over their table.

"She does like you," Fluttershy says.

"What?!" Twilight blinks rapidly. "Then why is she doing... that?" She blindly flails towards the ruckus nearby – she's still trying hard not to look, but she's pretty sure Rainbow Dash just not-so-accidentally spilled a drink down Applejack's shirt.

Fluttershy just shrugs back at her. Then she shrugs at Mac, who's obviously trying to look like he has no idea what's going on.

"No, no! You know what? This is fine!" Twilight throws her hands up, slamming them back down to the table hard enough to sting. "This is college. Let's be crazy and meet people and... and... just... I don't know." She stares down at her hands, oblivious to Mac and Fluttershy glancing at each other, having their own private, silent conversation. She snaps her eyes up to them. "Right? Isn't that how it works? I'm just being silly, right?"

"Uh...?" Mac rubs the back of his neck.

"I'll just get another girlfriend..." Twilight grumbles.

"Rainbow Dash is your girlfriend?" Fluttershy asks, genuinely curious.

"I don't know!" Twilight yells desperately. "Every time I start to think that's what it is, she says something or looks at somebody else like she – like she wants them, not me, and then she says things about them, right to my face, like it doesn't even hurt me. And it does!" Twilight pauses for effect – her audience is shocked at how obvious it is, they're right there with her, of course. "And I don't even know if she actually does anything like that with other girls. Does she?"

She aims that last one right at Fluttershy. Fluttershy stares back, caught in headlights. "Um... I don't think so. I don't know. Maybe you should ask her?"

"But I can't just ask her or she might –"

Twilight trips over her own tongue, gripping the edge of the table.

Might what? Say she does?

"Oh, hey. Drinks." Twilight snaps out of it as the waitress appears. Fluttershy and Mac are casting wary, worried glances at each other – obviously they understand her predicament. The waitress puts a tall glass in front of Twilight, full of something dark, so dark it's almost black, sporting a thick head of foam. It looks like some kind of foul poison. It looks perfect.

"Cheers?" Mac cautiously raises his glass. They clink their drinks together, Fluttershy blushing lightly for some weird reason.

Twilight just stares at the glass in her hand, feeling it chill her fingers. This is the perfect time to start drinking, really. Salvation at the bottom of a glass, right? She shrugs, and takes a sip with wild abandon.

"Ack! Guh!" She immediately regrets that decision, coughing and choking on the bitter liquid. She feels her face scrunch up, pulled inwards by alkali poisoning her tongue, by the worst coffee in the world run over ice and dumped into her mouth. "Blah!"

Mac cocks an eyebrow at her. Fluttershy watches with obvious concern, carefully sipping at her straw.

Twilight puts the glass down and pushes it away, almost scooting her chair out, anything to put some distance between herself and that foul liquid. Mac and Fluttershy give each other a long look – Twilight could swear there's a whole conversation going on between them, said entirely in subtle nods and looks. She sees Fluttershy nodding towards her, and Mac gets that light in his eyes, like he gets it.

"So..." He clears his throat loudly, looking at Twilight. "Not much of a drinker, huh?"

Twilight hides her hands in her lap, vaguely remembering the time her father had caught her experimenting with a bottle of cooking sherry. "...No," she admits. She glances up – she had been expecting Mac to be shaking his head, or getting ready to say something mean, something that all the other kids would laugh at.

Instead, he's just kind of smiling at her. For just a second, she feels some kind of telepathy, reading the words in his smile.

Hey – that's alright. No big deal.

She's so shocked that she clearly shows it, blinking and gently gawking at him.

"Can I get you somethin' else?" Mac asks.

For some reason Twilight's eyes start to run off on their own, over to the bright center of fun in the bar, two cute girls going at it like nobody's business. She yanks them back into place with a weary sigh.

"No. Thank you, though," she says.

She stares at the glass of terrible beer, wondering how it swallows light so completely.

"Do you want some of my Shirley Temple?" Fluttershy says, sliding her glass closer to Twilight.

Twilight stares at that instead. It's a bright, festive little drink, a flashy cup of fun. It even has a cherry on top.

She sighs again.

"...Okay."

"Why would you watch gorilla porn?"

Twilight actually stops walking. She grunts as Rainbow Dash shakily stops with her.

"...What?" Twilight says.

"Gorillas. Big ole' gorilla dick. Bleeeeeeehhhhhhhhh..." Rainbow Dash sways, her head lazily rolling around. Twilight is just barely holding her up, marvelling at how heavy the girl suddenly feels. She shakes her head and keeps walking.

"Isn't that like... illegal?" Rainbow Dash mutters, her feet dragging on the ground.

"Yes. Yes, watching gorillas fornicate for purposes of sexual gratification is probably illegal," Twilight recites, staring straight ahead. They're almost there, just a few more terrible feet to the elevator.

"You shouldn't do that," Rainbow slurs. "You shouldn't like that."

"I don't. I like other girls. Like you."

"What'd you say?" Rainbow Dash tries to raise an arm and point it at Twilight, but it goes wild, wandering off towards who-knows-where. "What'd you say to me?"

"Nothing," Twilight says coldly. She leans Dash's body against her own, just long enough to push the elevator call button. She cradles Dash in her arms, waiting, feeling her slowly, inexorably slide down to the floor.

"You said I like other girls."

"You do," Twilight says.

"I'm sorry," Dash moans, sounding like she means it. "I'm sorry!" she says again, this time sounding like she couldn't mean it if she tried. "You think I sleep around?"

Twilight rolls her eyes. This is maybe the fifth or sixth time she's heard this in the few minutes since they left the bar.

"No way!" Rainbow Dash yells. "No WAY! But if I did, I would totally do that girl from the bar." Dash tries to wave an arm and just flops it around instead. "Whass her name, cowgirl. Shut her RIGHT up."

Twilight glares at the elevator – she's starting to get pretty tired of that line, too. She pictures herself dropping Rainbow Dash roughly to the floor. Or down the elevator shaft. Or into a volcano. The doors open before it can go much further than that.

They tumble inside together, Twilight dragging Dash's dead weight around. In the confines of the elevator the stink is even worse – the girl in her arms reeks of raw, eye-watering liquor, a horrible smell that Twilight knows is soaking into her clothes.

"I jus' like to look..." Rainbow Dash slurs. "I swear, I just like to look. She was hot, wasn't she? Wasn't she hot, though?"

Twilight glares at nothing. The elevator crawls its way up, slowly and agonizingly pulling itself up, inch by inch.

"Hot and... like a..." Rainbow Dash mutters, hanging limp from Twilight's shoulders.

Twilight feels her nose scrunching up again, and takes a deep breath. Almost there. Almost there and she can drop this dumb drunk beautiful train wreck off and...

What? Never talk to her again? HA!

Her shoulders slump, lowering Dash almost to her knees. The elevator doors open.

"I'm fine!" Dash barks loudly, stumbling to her feet. She pushes against Twilight, launching herself directly into the elevator's open door frame. "FINE!" she yells again, plummeting to the floor.

Twilight finds herself unable to move temporarily, just staring at the pile of terrible girl collapsed onto the floor before her. The elevator doors start to close – one side bumps into Rainbow Dash, making her moan pathetically.

"Ugh... come on." Twilight groans loudly. She grabs Dash's arms and pulls. Rainbow Dash hardly moves, moaning again.

"Come ON!" Twilight grunts.

"Uhhhhhhhwwwwaaaaaaaa..." Rainbow Dash wails quietly, her eyes still closed.

I. Cannot. Believe this.

Twilight rolls her eyes, still pulling, haltingly dragging Rainbow Dash out of the elevator. She drags her past the open common room, willing herself not to look, to see whatever bemused people must be watching this spectacle.

Rainbow Dash starts kicking and stumbling with her legs, occasionally finding purchase. The two of them do a darkly comedic dance down the hall, pulling and grunting and breathing heavily. They arrive at Rainbow's room much as they were, Twilight hoisting Dash up by one arm.

"Keys?" Twilight asks.

"Uh," Dash grunts.

"I need your keys."

Rainbow Dash's eyes bug out. She makes a weird, choked coughing noise. Twilight's starting to get pretty tired of this, too.

"Oh god no." She drops Dash immediately. "Not here! Not on me!"

Dash clambers around like a blinded animal, stumbling towards a trash can a few feet down the hall. She throws herself onto it, almost into it, and it tumbles over on its side towards her.

Twilight watches with an anxious grimace – Rainbow Dash ends up almost lying down, her head deep in the trash can as her stomach heaves over and over again.

"Really?" Twilight says. "How could you possibly have any left in you?"

Rainbow Dash just convulses one last time in response.

"Keys!" Twilight scowls, willing herself to glare at the ceiling. She throws her hands onto her hips.

"Unh." A short grunt echoes out from the trashcan.

Twilight growls, a weary sigh that would put any harried mother to shame. She walks up to Rainbow Dash, just a skinny pair of jeans sticking out past a stinking cave of vomit. Digging through her pockets gives Twilight a weird, dark kind of joy – under other circumstances this would probably be fun.

"It huuuuuuuuuuuuuuurts," Rainbow Dash moans.

Twilight jumps in place, halting her angry frisking. "What hurts?"

"My throooooooooat huuuuuuuuuuuuuurts..." Rainbow Dash moans, rolling back and forth a little.

"Ugh." Twilight rolls her eyes, prying a set of keys out of Rainbow Dash's back pocket. The door opens easily – the room is a mess, as it always is, a smelly zoo of a mess.

She grabs Rainbow Dash's legs and drags, stopping only a moment later when she realizes how much she's dragging.

"What are you –" Twilight fumes. "Let go of the trash can!"

"I's mine..." Dash mutters. "I puked on it."

"What is wrong with you?!"

Twilight pulls, shaking Dash's legs until the barely-conscious girl slides out of her shell. Just a few more feet, and...

There. She drops Dash's legs. The door closes. Done.

Twilight collapses, sitting down on a pile of dirty laundry next to Rainbow Dash.

It's quiet. She hardly remembers flicking the light switch on, and now the room is harshly lit by the single fluorescent circle above. Twilight's never seen that light turned on before – usually it's one or several of the half-dozen lamps spread around the room.

Very quiet. The only thing she can hear is the occasional muted rattle of one of Fluttershy's animals rustling in its cage.

She risks a sidelong peek at Rainbow Dash. The girl is lying prone, on her side, her face slack and blank. It's hard to tell if her eyes are closed or just swollen almost so.

Okay, okay... black-out drunk? How many drinks? Over how many hours?

She files through her memories, checking catalogs of notes taken during orientation seminars.

On her side, good, no choking... wait, wait, check for breathing check for breathing!

Twilight darts a hand out, holding her fingers under Dash's nose. She feels nothing. She can't tell if Dash's chest is moving or not.

Oh my god oh my god

"Dash are you –"

"Humma muh fffffuuuuuuh..." Rainbow Dash mutters, stirring just enough to slap Twilight's hand away. "I'm fine."

Twilight is too stunned to sigh in relief. It forces its way out anyway, after a few seconds.

"God, I was really worried for a second," Twilight says, taking one of Dash's hands in her own. She pulls it over and cradles it in her lap, stroking Dash's palm with her thumb. It feels good, even after all that, to hold her slender, firm hand, intertwining their fingers, feeling the tight strength of Dash's muscles lying dormant.

"Worried? About me?" Dash says, her eyes still closed. She gets a silly, loopy kind of smile. "Thanks, babe."

Twilight sits there, holding her hand. Rainbow Dash squeezes her hand every few seconds, seemingly more awake.

Maybe she finally puked it all out.

Dash extracts her fingers and starts gently rubbing Twilight's arm, just lying there perfectly still except for the arm that Twilight's claimed. It's so... nice, somehow, sitting there in a pile of smelly clothes in a room full of smelly animals with a girl smelling of... of...

Stupid? She smells pretty stupid.

Twilight smirks, shaking her head slowly. It vanishes as Rainbow Dash's hand suddenly moves up, clumsily clawing at Twilight's shirt.

"What...?" Twilight hardly moves as Dash's hand fumbles its way up, groping at one of her breasts.

"What the hell are you doing?" Twilight bats her hand away.

"Come oooooooooooon," Dash moans pathetically, sliding her hand up Twilight's thigh, sneaking under her skirt.

Ew ew ew she has VOMIT on her JACKET.

Among other things.

"Stop that!" Twilight shoves Dash's arm away, pouting and crossing her arms. "I'm mad at you."

"You can't be mad at me," Rainbow Dash slurs, mumbling against her laundry, her eyes still closed. "You freakin' LOVE me."

It hurts. A sharp, piercing tear, right in her chest. Twilight is terrified she might cry, feeling something welling up in her eyes, threatening to spill out.

"I love you, too," Rainbow Dash says, smiling dreamily.

Salvation. Just like that.

"...Really?" Twilight says.

"Sure," Rainbow Dash says, sleepily smacking her lips. "Bunches. Tons. Love ya to bits."

Her hand makes another sneaky attack, crawling up Twilight's leg. She intercepts it, and instead of batting it away, Twilight traps it in her own, cradling it again.

"I didn't say I loved you," Twilight says.

Rainbow Dash shrugs, the barest hint of movement. Her hand squeezes Twilight's.

"Huh." Twilight raises her eyebrows, feeling glimmers of hope she hadn't known she'd been waiting for. "I never, ever, thought I would hear you say that."

Dash squeezes her hand again, a gentle, weak little gesture.

"You know, we shared some classes. Last year," Twilight says, not sure why she's spilling this secret but happy about it anyway. "I don't know if you ever really noticed me. I noticed you, though."

Dash doesn't move. Patiently listening.

"You used to make me so mad," Twilight goes on. "You'd sleep right through some of what I thought were the most interesting classes. And when you weren't sleeping you were playing with your phone – Professor Celestia totally noticed, you know! She's just nice enough not to bring it up."

She smiles guiltily, playing her fingers against Dash's beautiful, skillful hand. "It's silly. I always got so worked up about you. Funny how it turned out. Or maybe it hasn't changed that much."

She almost chuckles. No, it has changed. Here and now. Her and Dash. Together.

"I never, ever thought I would say this to you... but..."

She takes a deep breath. She holds Dash's hand tight.

Say it SAY IT for once in your life just DO IT.

"I'm really worried that I'm falling in love with you, Rainbow Dash."

She beams proudly, straightening her posture as she says it. Maybe it isn't perfect. Maybe it isn't pure or whole or even close to the smart thing to say. But it's still the most wonderful thing she's ever felt, finally just coming out with –

A snore cuts loudly through the room.

Twilight freezes, one eye twitching. She turns to Rainbow Dash. Dash is snoring loudly, completely passed out, her hand hanging limp in Twilight's. She's drooling onto her own dirty laundry.

"Ugh!" Twilight groans, throwing Dash's hand from her lap. "UGH!" She growls. She hits Rainbow Dash, slapping her on the shoulder, throwing impotent rage wherever she can.

"...Shut up, Fluttershy..." Rainbow Dash whines. She rolls over, away from Twilight, completely oblivious.

Twilight feels her teeth grind against each other, her hands tensing into claws. She feels like she could burst into flames at any second.

AWFUL. Awful, awful, AWFUL.

"Fine!" Twilight yells, throwing her hands up. "FINE! Forget it! Forget... forget you! Ugh!" She glares around the room, finding nobody to notice the injustice of it all. "I should just leave you here with... with..."

She trails off, finally noticing what she should've noticed a long time ago.

...Where is Fluttershy?

The truck shudders to a stop, brakes squealing a little as it gracefully noses up to the intersection.

It's a strange place for a red light. The middle of nowhere – darkness stretches out forever in every direction, fertile fields swallowed up by the night. Two lonely, empty roads cross, and the truck waits at the traffic light while nothing crosses in front of them.

Mac's hand leaves hers as he shifts into first gear – the stick moves reluctantly, thunking into place with reliable stubbornness. He looks back and knocks on the rear window.

"Red light," he says. "Do what you gotta do."

"Huh?" Applejack blinks, woozy and dazed. She nods a few times, then picks herself up from the bed of the truck. Fluttershy watches in the the sideview mirror as she leans over the side, and then –

She looks to the front, pretending not to hear.

Mac's hand finds hers again, slipping into her fingers and resting on her lap. It's huge, dwarfing hers easily, but he nestles a few of his fingers into her grasp anyway.

The light turns green.

"You good?" Mac says, without looking back.

"Mmmhmm." Fluttershy sees Applejack raise a thumbs-up.

Mac's hand goes away, but only long enough to shift. It comes right back.

He drives on like that, slow and careful with his sister lying in the pick-up's bed. The road is a tunnel in front of them, the only thing in a silent black sea. Fluttershy can pick out the tall grass along the side of the road, zipping by along the edges of fields lying dry, picked-clean after –

Movement. She gasps with joy and squeezes Mac's hand, her eyes following the deer as they bound off into the shadows. For just a moment she had seen them clearly, eyes snapping up and glowing in the headlights before bounding off into darkness, white rumps fading quickly.

She smiles at Mac, squeezing his hand again. Her eyes light up, brows raised hopefully.

He glances sideways at her, watching the road. But he smiles and nods back, squeezing her hand in return.

"Did y'all see those DEER?" Applejack yells, holding her hat secure as she hangs herself over the side of the truck.

Fluttershy winces at the sudden noise, her hand scuttling under Mac's.

"We never go huntin' anymore. When are we goin' huntin' again, Mac?" Applejack rambles, sliding back down into the bed. "I wanna shoot me some MEAT."

Fluttershy's hand freezes. She turns to Mac, one eyebrow raised carefully.

He's wincing, looking like he wants to throw a glare back at his sister. He turns to Fluttershy and solemnly shakes his head.

Nope.

She raises her eyebrow even further, staring into him.

Really?

He nods emphatically.

Not anymore.

She nods back, satisfied. She gently pats his hand. It slips away, throwing the truck into a lower gear as they sail smoothly through the night. But it comes right back afterwards, running his thumb over her knuckles.

They turn onto a bumpy dirt road, passing under a weathered wooden gate. The farmhouse is just ahead, a single light on the porch the only sign of civilization for miles. They pull right up to it, the headlights searching over a barn and then the house itself, a huge, rambling, storied pile of rooms.

Mac parks the truck. Fluttershy gets out quickly, eagerly, her shoes crunching in dirt and gravel as she carefully closes the door behind her.

She loves the smell. Almost more than anything else about the place, the first thing she noticed the first time she ever set foot on Sweet Apple Acres. A light breeze brings it to her, like it always does, cool and clean and alive. She takes a deep breath, feeling everything from the cows in the barn to the few apples still hanging ripe, even out to the wild forest beyond.

It's so much stronger in the dark, with no distractions. She smiles, deep and strong and real, the kind of smile hardly anyone ever sees from her.

She makes up her mind, again. Never, ever going home to the city. Ever.

Mac comes around from the back of the truck, holding Applejack up by one arm. Her shoes graze along the ground, not quite tall enough to throw an arm over her brother's shoulders and still be standing.

A dog starts barking from inside. They're happy barks, welcoming home.

"SHH!" Applejack yells impossibly loudly, her voice echoing into the night. "WINONA! You'll wake up Apple Bloom!"

Fluttershy rushes up to the door while the Apple siblings lag behind, peering in through a small window. Winona is just inside, panting and barking, smiling in that perfectly stupid way only dogs can. She quiets down the moment she sees Fluttershy waving, just sitting eagerly waiting for the door to open.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" She hears Applejack behind her. "I got this." Applejack stands unsteadily, holding her hands out for balance. Mac hovers nearby, waiting for her to fall. But she doesn't.

The two of them trudge up to the door. Applejack sways on the stairs while Mac lets them in. Fluttershy waits patiently while Applejack stumbles inside.

"C'mere you mutt," Applejack almost falls over trying to pet Winona, goofy giggles spilling out of her.

Fluttershy keeps waiting. It takes her a second to realize that Mac is holding the door. For her.

She goes inside. The house is dark, lit only here and there where the light from inside sneaks in the windows. Applejack has already collapsed on the couch, rolled onto her side away from the rest of the world.

"Jus' don't wake up Apple Bloom," she mutters. "Poor girl."

Winona whines and nuzzles Applejack's back, sitting and waiting while her master flops one tired arm around to scratch behind her ears.

Fluttershy stands by the door, still nervous. She wonders why Applejack never worries about waking up Granny.

New light creeps into the room from the kitchen – Mac is doing something in there, small, muted sounds of a person trying not to make noise with glass. The living room is a crowded, cozy collection of beat-up old couches and easy chairs, every flat surface crowded with pictures and old-person knick-knacks.

He comes back with a glass of water, leaving it on a small table next to Applejack's couch. He has to slide it in amongst half a dozen picture frames.

Fluttershy watches as he puts a hand on Applejack's shoulder, gently shaking her. Applejack places her hand on his, creakily opening her eyes. She nods up at him a few times, patting his hand.

He looks up at Fluttershy. He shrugs – it makes him look ten years younger, for just a second, boyish and charming. She can't help but smile back.

Applejack's hand slides away, asleep or close to it. Mac gently squeezes her shoulder and takes his leave, heading for the narrow staircase at the back of the room. Fluttershy follows, stopping to give Winona one last quick petting session.

Mac lets her go first. It's dark, but she knows the way – she's been here plenty of times before. She's usually scared of the dark, of creaky old houses and – well, of everything, really. The kind of skittish fear she knows she should have outgrown a long time ago.

She doesn't feel a bit of it now. Mac is right behind her, just a few steps below, his huge body making the stairs squeal in protest.

They sneak down the hall. The first door they pass has a horseshoe hanging on it, right above a few pieces of paper with Bs and B-minuses marked on them, proudly displayed. Mac rests his hand on the small of her back, and they tip-toe together, to his room.

He collapses onto his bed instantly, sitting on the edge of the saggy old mattress with a sigh of relief. Fluttershy does a little tour around his room, running a hand lightly over random things she passes – an old football trophy, a hardly-used desk, a dusty old box of comic books. Things from yesteryear, lingering on.

She pauses – her fingers come to rest on a picture frame, turned away from the bed. No lights are on, but the stars suddenly seem very bright through the window. Still, she can't quite make out the photo. But she knows what it is.

"Some kinda night," Mac says.

"Mmmm." She pulls her hand away from the picture suddenly.

"Yer friends seem nice."

She turns to him and tiptoes across the room, pretending she hadn't been looking at anything. She sneaks up to him, feeling his eyes on her, wondering why it never scares her like it does when other people look at her.

She gets a little cat-like smile, safe in the dark here. She knows why, of course. It's because it's him. She stops at the edge of his bed, standing inches in front of him, her hands demurely folded in front of her.

"I'm sorry if they seemed – weird," she whispers. "They're not always like that."

"Shoot," he scoffs, looking at her with an easy smile. "Ain't even a thing. Ain't even on my mind just now, really."

She can just barely make out the emerald of his eyes tracing up and down her body. She folds her fingers together, biting her lip, her heart pounding with anticipation – it's been at the back of her mind all evening, all day, all week, forever, but it's only now and here that it's real and when is he just going to –

She gasps, almost squeaking. His rough hands slide slowly, gently up the back of her legs, dragging over her cheap jeans. They stop together right at the tops of her thighs, cradling the curve of her behind.

She grabs his shirt at the shoulder, bunching the coarse fabric up in tensed fingers. He gives her rump a tender squeeze and then his hands move up and down, massaging her thighs. She leans forward, letting out a deep breath of relief and resting her hands on his chest, her head lying in the crook of his neck, pink hair spilling all down his red shirt.

She has big breasts – she hasn't quite come to terms with this, but she is at least willing at this point to acknowledge the fact that they exist. Mostly to curse having them – they get in the way, and make every shirt she buys fit funny, and at the end of most days there's a slight ache in her lower back.

And that's not even getting into the way they make boys act. Even when she wants the attention, they're like two black holes for men's thoughts. The few times she's let a guy get close, they always go right for her chest – pushy and pinchy and getting lost in the heavy, troublesome mounds. Every time.

Until she met him.

"...Mac?" She stands up straight, looking him in the eye.

"Mmm?" He gives her right cheek an affectionate little squeeze, bordering on a pinch.

"Why do you always... um... touch my legs... first?"

"Huh?" He stops massaging her. "What, you don't like it?"

"NO, I do!" she says instantly. "It's just... um..." She glances down, at her own chest, and then away, embarrassed even to look at them.

"Oh." Mac nods at the huge swell in her sweater, even as he slides his hands around to the front of her jeans, trailing along the waistline. "Those ladies usually steal the show, huh?"

She gives him a curt little pout. He chuckles back, fumbling with her belt buckle – not leather, naturally. Some kind of thick canvas.

"Truth be told, I'm scared of those things, 'Shy." He unbuckles her belt and starts clumsily searching for the buttons on her jeans.

"Scared?" she balks, speaking almost at a normal person's volume.

"'Fraid I might get sucked in or somethin'. Mighty intimidatin', those two."

She smacks her hand against his chest, a solid wall of muscle. She rolls her eyes huffily, but for some reason her lips refuse to cooperate – they're stuck in an amazed little smirk.

"Nevermind," she says.

Suddenly, quicker than thought, one of his hands is one the back of her neck, pulling her into a kiss. She almost panics, her hands shooting out and hovering around them. For all its sudden start, he kisses her slowly, politely using his tongue until he feels her calm down. When his lips pull away, a different kind of tremor is shaking in her chest.

"I don't wanna get stuck on those two," he whispers. "The rest of you's just as pretty."

She can feel his other hand getting frustrated, failing to deal with her jeans in the dark. She rushes to help him, her hands trembling a little. They work at it together, four anxious limbs working in tandem. In an instant cool night air is sending goosebumps along her thighs as he slides her pants down.

Her hands retreat as soon he's taking her jeans off, leaning against him for balance. Mac bends down to finish his work, and she kicks her shoes off, awkwardly with her pants around her ankles. She steps out of them, one leg at a time, and feels a dusty old throw rug under her socks as he kisses his way back up, setting her breath all a-flutter the higher he goes.

She's glad it's dark – her underwear is silly and pink, with yellow butterflies all over it. The kind of thing a little girl would wear. She always thinks she should buy something lacy or low-cut, something sexy, and of course she never thinks to really do it, she never thinks, and she frowns in the dark as he gets closer to...

Mac doesn't care at all. She can feel him smiling against her thigh as he kisses her, his big, rough hands squeezing her legs again. She can feel every callus in every one of his fingers, scratching over her flawless milky skin. He moves up and up, following after with his hands, getting closer, and then he's...

Fluttershy gasps, clenching her fingers. He places one gentle little kiss front and center on her panties – part of her wants to hide away, to just go someplace else in her head while he does what he wants, until it's over. Like she used to, like she always did with other boys.

She'd tried that, her first time with him. It... it didn't work. It just wouldn't work. The way he looked into her eyes, waiting for her to meet him there before every movement, it just...

She starts panting, her stupid chest heaving with every breath. Shocking herself, she tangles one hand up in his hair, his lovely, glorious rust-colored hair, and pulls his head up.

He stares up at her, a little confused. Pleasantly so.

No?

She smiles at him. He'd taken a kind of special pride in that part, ever since she bashfully admitted that he was the first man to do... that to her. He always, always does it to her. And that's... well, the only word she can really think of is wonderful.

"Uh...?" he says, still held back by his hair.

Fluttershy releases him. "Oh! Um... sor–"

She stops mid-word. A gruff voice cries out in her head.

Don't be sorry! BE ASSERTIVE!

He's still staring up at her, waiting on her word. She tenses up, her breath quickening, trying somehow to perform the unfamiliar act of consciously recognizing what, exactly, she wants.

"Can we... um... can we..." she taps her index fingers together in front of her, knowing how cute it must be. "Can we skip that part? Tonight?"

Mac gives her a bemused chuckle – he looks so boyish again, between his goofy smile and the freckles. "Uh... sure. If you want."

"Really?" she asks. "I mean, if you want to, we can –"

He chuckles again, shaking his head. "It's fine, 'Shy. What do you wanna do?"

She stares longingly into his bright green eyes – of course it's fine. Everything's fine. She can't imagine that he ever could be angry, at anything, and she feels silly again.

Silly, and... different. Something. She can't really put a word to it.

Smoothly, without fear, she reaches out and starts unbuttoning his shirt, working her way down from the top. He gets the message quickly and starts from the bottom, meeting her in the middle. He takes it off, and Fluttershy's hands don't wait for her permission to go ahead. There's no undershirt, no t-shirt, nothing underneath but a solid, hairy man-chest. She curls her fingers through his coarse, dark hair, grinning at the image of her hands, small and pale against his pecs.

She kisses him, pressing her body against his. She climbs up on the bed with him, straddling his hips, and he pulls her in tight against him. Her legs work on their own, doing something so embarrassing, so amazing, grinding her crotch against the hot, solid body under her, cursing the fabric between them.

Her heart pounds – there's something inside her, something with a wicked smile and sharp eyes, gleefully stepping in as she finally, finally lets her guard down. Something that knows exactly what she wants. Something she only sees from the Fluttershy in her dreams, a confident, happy girl who says things. All kinds of things.

She lifts her arms, sticking them straight up in the air. He obediently pulls her sweater up and over them, her pendulous breasts pulled up and then sinking back into place. There's a T-shirt, just a slight little thing with the words CLOUDSDALE SUMMER CAMP stretched over the front, and that goes, too. She slams her arms down as soon as they're free, frantically tearing at the fly of his jeans.

He helps that along, still kissing her, breaking away from her lips to move haltingly across her cheek and under her ear. She awkwardly holds himself over him, yanking his pants off inches at a time, and gasps with a grin when she realizes he's not wearing any underwear. He tears at her panties, sliding them down one side at a time, strong fingers sending naughty little tickles everywhere they trail down her legs.

They kick what's left of their clothes off their feet, and then he's naked under her. She clings to him, her knees sinking into the mattress, running her hands over the rough hair on his chest and shoulders, tracing the line on his upper arm where pale muscle meets a leathery tan. He rests his hands on the small of her back, pulling perfectly in time with the needy rocking of her hips.

She can feel him against her. His hard, hot length slides against her lips, parting them slightly with each thrust she gives. His head is lost in a coarse nest of dark, pink hair, tickling a little as she grinds against him.

She's wet and blushing, achingly wet. Her breasts, still reigned in by a simple white bra, pool between them, smooshed against the firm muscles of his chest. She hooks her arms over his shoulders and clasps her hands behind his neck, resting her head against his collarbone, gasping with each slight, slick motion between her legs.

She feels him unhook her bra. He tugs it out from between them, lifting her arms again, and then...

She loves this. This part, this moment, when they're finally completely naked, nothing but quivering, sweaty skin against skin. Her breasts pool against him again, his chest hair tickling her huge, flat nipples. His hands, his strong hands, go right back to cradling her rear, the tips of his fingers digging into her.

She moans and kisses his cheek, squeezing her thighs against his. One of his hands leaves, digging around at the edge of the bed, and then she hears the telltale crinkle of plastic.

She sits up, drawing his concentration away from the deadly adversary that is a condom wrapper in the heat of passion.

"Can I... can I do it?" she asks.

He grins and chuckles again, dropping the half-opened thing onto the flat shelf of her chest. She pouts and grabs it, climbing down his body until her knees are on the floor.

He's right in her face. She freezes and stares at him – for all the oral attentions he's given her, she's yet to return the favor. In the half-light of the stars through the window, she can't make out more than a thick shaft, throbbing at attention.

She wonders, idly, what it would feel like to... to take him, in her mouth like that. What he would do with his hands. What kind of noises he would make. Part of her wants to try, right now, to just lick and suck and caress his... his thing until she feels his hot, salty...

She swallows, blinking a few times. Too soon, maybe. That other girl in her isn't in charge yet. It's still scary, sometimes. Still new.

With a daring little thrill, she gives him a quick kiss instead, just a peck right on the tip. He jerks and moans, even just from that, and it makes her smile. Then she carefully places her hands at the tip, ready to unroll the rubber onto him.

And then she just sits there.

She stares at it, holding the latex just above him. She never had any strong opinion on condoms one way or the other – just part of the whole... thing. But lately, she's started thinking of them as a necessary evil. She'd blushed when it hit her for the first time, lying naked in his arms afterward, wondering what it would feel like without one.

Feeling him. Really feeling him, to truly have nothing between them, nothing stopping his strong male body from filling her completely. What it would feel like to... to feel him do... that inside her. It must be so... so...

She blushes now, breathing hard, her nostrils flaring a bit as her imagination runs wild. She gets a determined little glare – this is it. Tonight is the night. She didn't come all this way, force herself through all that embarrassing horror at the campus clinic, just to turn back now.

She drops her hands, letting the condom fall to the floor. Then she climbs back onto him, picking up right where she left off.

"Whoa! Uh... 'Shy?" Mac says, not quite responding to her moaning and kissing and grinding.

"Mmm?"

"You forget something?"

She stops, bowing her head and staring up at him like she's been caught. "...No."

"Um... 'Shy?"

She cuddles up close against him, hiding. "I started taking... um... something."

He holds her, completely still, for a full second. She doesn't dare to look up into his eyes.

"It's... it's okay. Is that okay?" she asks desperately.

"Seriously?"

"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it, before, I just thought –"

He cuts her off with a kiss. A fierce, perfect, tender kiss, making her moan quietly and squirm against him.

That is very, very okay.

Of course it's okay. She moans in relief. Everything's okay, anything is okay, here in this bed with him.

She comes to life again, kissing back and grinding against him with renewed vigor. His hard cock feels different against her now, tinged with anticipation, his hard rod sliding against her and growing more slippery every second. He grunts and grabs a generous chunk of her hair, leaning against her, scowling and breathing hard.

She starts to sit up, to raise herself above him, like she always does. Their lovemaking had a lovely little pattern to it – she would slowly lower herself onto him, taking her time, going at a perfect Fluttershy pace. He would kiss and grope and caress while she did it, keeping her comfortable. Then they would rock gently together, Fluttershy on top, safe and sound.

She pauses, hovering just above him. He keeps kissing her, nibbling on the base of her neck – he knows sometimes it takes her a while, how she has to ease into things.

But she doesn't want to ease into things.

She rolls to the side, taking her with him. She scoots up and rests her head on the pillow, smiling at the naked shock on Mac's face. He holds himself carefully above her, even as she tries to pull his heavy body closer.

"...Like this?" he asks.

"Mmmhmm."

"But you said you didn't..."

She kisses him, shushing the rest of that sentence forever. When she breaks away, all she can see is Mac's weathered, stubbly face staring at her, trying to recognize this girl in his bed.

"I want to," she says. She doesn't apologize, before or after. She presses her hips up against his, feeling him pointing down at her – she almost wishes she could grab it somehow, pull it into her, fill that aching emptiness between her legs whether he's ready or not.

But he is. He kisses her back, guiding himself against her with one hand. He rubs his head against her, up and down, peeking between her folds. Then he rests it right at her entrance, just the tip pressed delightfully into her.

She bites his lip, wrapping her legs around him. He pushes.

"...aaaaaaaaaaah ah!" she gasps quietly, like she always does. It doesn't hurt – it never did, somehow. He slides into her, easily, slowly working his shaft in up to the hilt. It's perfect – she can feel every quivering inch of him, every vein pounding, every slight hair near its base tickling.

She hooks her ankles together. He grunts again, she can feel his chest trembling against her. He presses and pulls, one inch back and two forward, gently over and over again, nuzzling his face against hers as he groans quietly with each polite thrust.

He bottoms out, stopping as soon as he does. She always stops here, like a scared child wading into cold water, letting each part of her body warm up in turn.

Something's different this time. She wants to just dive in, she wants this, and she knows she wants it and somehow even after everything it's okay.

She bears down on him, kissing all over his face, letting out husky, breathy little squeaking pants. He may be a gentle soul, but she knows he's still just a man, and men are animals, and certain reactions are automatic. Instinct. A rabbit couldn't pass up a carrot any more than it could stop being a rabbit.

Mac is no different. He pulls back and thrusts, not wild or out of control, just a good solid push. She gasps and throws her chin back, curling her toes as he presses as deep inside as he can go.

And then again. And again. And again and again and it's so, so wonderful.

She always wondered before, with them, how their lovemaking was so seamless – there was never a distinct moment when the foreplay ended and the fucking really began, just one gradual, smooth slope into sweating, babbling, mindless passion, the kind of rutting that made their bodies slap together and make impolite sounds.

He plants one hand next to her head, supporting himself while the other snakes under her and buries itself in her hair. He thrusts into her at an even pace, not wild or out of control, still gentle. But still fucking her.

So there was that moment. She tingles all over as she realizes it, revelling in this new sex, this new way of loving him, this kind of dirty, scary fucking that's always been so terrifying. Even lying like this, with him looming over her, weighing her down into the bed – it should be scary. It is, maybe.

But she's overwhelmingly, unbelievably turned on.

"Mac?" she whispers.

"Mmm?"

She pants with each thrust, closing her eyes shut tight. Willing herself to just say it.

"Mmm? 'Shy?" He slows down. She can tell his face by his voice – the concern in his eyes, the slight, adorable raising of his eyebrows.

She squeezes him with her arms and legs, pinning him, almost crying out for him not to slow down, not to stop, ever.

"...harder?" she whispers.

"What?"

"Please?" She winces. She's a terrible person, some kind of dirty, shameful slut for even wanting this, and he's probably just going to kick her out into the –

"OH." Her eyes shoot open wide as he thrusts again, hard, pulling back almost out of her and then ramming home. He's smiling at her, his same easy, trusting smile as always.

"Like that?" he asks, boyish mischief twinkling in his eyes.

She gulps loudly and nods. He slams her again, sending a little ripple through the sea of flesh on her chest.

And then again. And again and again and again and he's not stopping.

"...aaaaaaaahhhhhhhHHHH," Fluttershy moans, loudly for her, reaching almost conversational levels of volume.

It's heaven. Pure, unbelievable heaven. She can't even remember to be ashamed of liking it so much. There's nothing left in her head but all the amazing things going on elsewhere in her body, and him, the handsome beast on top of her, holding her down as he lays into her over and over and over again, his hot, hard naked self thrusting inside her.

She's out of breath, her mouth hanging open as she claws desperately at his back. He shifts his weight, sliding his hips up and somehow thrusting deeper into her, turning her gasping breaths into barely-audible moans on each stroke.

"Harder!" she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"HARDER!" she growls, all thought gone.

He slams her, pushing her body up until her head taps against the wall, thrusting at his full might now. She screams quietly, registering above a whisper. Her back arches up off the bed, pressing all her skin into him, her hips trying to thrust in time to his as her breasts flop up and down, almost smacking herself in the chin. He pounds her, slapping their thighs and stomachs together, sliding their hot skin together, sweat pooling wherever their limbs meet.

Fluttershy loses her mind, nothing left for her now except this big, strong, hairy, lovely, boy – this man – this man who's never been anything but nice and kind and gentle to her and always listens to her and always tells her she's pretty, not just pretty, that she's wonderful and he wants to be with her and now he's fucking her, lying on top of her and just... just fucking her like... like...

Like an animal.

She comes, her eyes rolling back in her head as her fingers clench, drawing hot blood from the thick skin of his back. The muscles in her hips flex and squeeze and shake, her body spasming as waves of incredible pleasure flutter through every inch of her, butterflies tickling inside every vein.

Mac grunts and pounds into her one last time, and she can feel him, she swears she can feel him, feel him quiver and jerk and spend himself inside her as deep as he can go. Hot, giddy warmth spreads in her belly, pushing her even farther over the edge into a shuddering, moaning mess. He collapses onto her with a loud moan, his body crushing her incredibly sensitive breasts between them, pressing her hard nipples down into themselves.

They both lie there, wrapped around each other, catching their breath. They don't kiss or fondle or even move, much – just lie there, against each other, sweat cooling against their flushed skin.

Thoughts start to come back. He's still inside her, not quite as hard and throbbing but still a hot intrusion, occasionally spasming in lazy little aftershocks. She clings to him, perfectly together with him, wrapped together in a sweaty, sticky damp mess.

She smiles, deep and real and happy, feeling tears squeeze out from her eyes, mingling with her sweat. She smiles and kisses him on the cheek, and he whispers some kind of nonsense in her ear.

Neither of them says anything close to I love you.

They don't have to.