(Not That Sort Of) Monster
by ashi
Chapters
1. Idle Thoughts
I never gave it that much thought, to be honest; it was one of those things that just snuck up on me without my ever being consciously aware of it, like the revelation that I was considered to be a doormat by most of the ponies in town, or that others thought I possessed a good singing voice. I'd heard the jokes, of course. One so used to having ponies talk behind their back always picks up on these things eventually. They think that I don't hear, of course, or that I'm not liable to kick up a fuss even if I do. But I do. Internally, at least.
Don't you think that they're a bit too close for comfort?
Isn't it weird how he'll just be waiting in her home most days?
Celestia knows WHAT they get up to behind closed doors, but you should hear the noise some nights …
Truth be told, this is water off a duck's back to me; for pretty much my entire life, ponies have been making fun of me. Because I couldn't fly, because I was weird and gangly, because I spent all of my free time talking to animals.
If you think what they say to my face is bad, you should hear what they murmur behind my back; so, by necessity, I've been forced to develop something of a thick skin in order to cope with the snide chatter. Sticks and stones, as I believe the saying goes.
His mind, however, is an enigma wrapped in a puzzle box surrounded by a moat of chocolate milk, and while I understand him about as well as anypony possibly could, that still means I don't understand him in the slightest. I'm usually so good with monsters, too.
Not that he needs me to, with all of his power and knowledge, I worry about him. What did he think of those ponies who made fun of him just for being different? Just for having a different worldview than most? More importantly, what would he do about it if he was pushed just that bit too far?
Princess Celestia, even Twilight and my other friends, are all under the mistaken impression that I control him, that I tamed him with my empathy, but the reality is far more complex than that; for his own inscrutable reasons, he wants to be friends with me, and he has even begun making overtures to the others, though they're still reluctant at this stage to accept. I can't say I blame them, but I can still think it from time to time when he tries his best and they rebuff his efforts. Yes, he comes on strongly at times, but imagine you were dying of thirst in a desert and somepony offered you a glass of water. You'd hardly sip politely, would you?
What he did in the past, I'm not even sure I can forgive that, and it's probably for the best that neither he nor Princess Celestia have ever given me the full litany of his crimes. There's only so much a fragile pegasus can take after all, and I still have a hard time with what he did to just myself and my friends. It's so strange to think that all of this could've been avoid if, rather than imprisoning him, somepony had just taken a chance on befriending him. All of us have the capacity to go a bit strange when deprived of company.
A friend. That's all he is to me: nothing more than a friend. Somepony to share cucumber sandwiches with on a pleasant spring afternoon.
So why did just looking at him make the blood rush in my ears? Why does his mischievous smile make my heart pound in my ears? Why did that misshapen agglomeration of parts that contrived his body, so radically different from what conventional wisdom said was attractive, make all four of my knees quake?
Whatever strange force had gripped me, one of the symptoms was, it seemed, taking temporary leave of my senses; seeing him by the fountain near the Town Hall, that roguish grin of his in place as he observed the ponies going about their daily lives, something changed in me. When I got close enough, I pressed my muzzle against his.
As I would tell myself over the next several days, it was a peck, not even a real kiss. That said, it was still totally out of character for me. So much so that even he, still unaccustomed to all the naunces of the ponies that he had found himself mixed up with, was moved to comment upon it.
“What was that, Fluttershy?” Discord's expression was curious. Considering. No doubt, he'd seen ponies kissing – pecking – before, but never having experienced it for himself it was a strange feeling for him.
“Um,” I said with all the profoundness that I could muster, my cheeks turning the same rosy hue as the apples in the nearby stalls. “It was a kiss. Er, it's something that ponies who really like each other do sometimes to show that they, well, really like each other.”
“I see,” he replied with scientific interest, a notepad appearing in his lion paw. With his eagle claw, he produced a quill and wrote something down. “A friendly gesture? One meant to evoke a feeling of closeness?”
“Something like that, yes. But ...” Did he really not know what a kiss was? Celestia said that he was thousands of years old, even older than herself and Luna. In all that time had he never … kissed? I found myself feeling sorry for him. Tartarus, even I'd been kissed in my short, sad life.
“Hm?”
“You know, don't just go around kissing anypony, okay?” I said, hoping to ward off any potential awkwardness. Whenever Discord learned something new about friendship, his tendency was to err on the side of overzealousness as he giddily through himself into applying those lessons on everypony he encountered. “Only ponies that you really, really like. And with their permission, of course.”
“Got it,” replied Discord, the notepad and quill disappearing into the thin air from whence they had came. “Well, I must be off, my dearest Fluttershy. Chaos isn't going to spread itself. Unless I invented some type of Self Chaos Spreading machine, but then, what would I do?” He threw his head back and laughed exuberantly, and I felt my heart warming at the sound.
Before I could say anything in reply, he was gone in a burst of light and something else tugged at my insides. I couldn't deny it any more.
“I'm in love with Discord.”
2. Understanding
Days pass by in a blur of activity, though I feel slightly disconnected from it all; in spite of the fact that we talk every single day, the subject of the kiss never seemed to come up again. Idly, I wondered if, while he was off gallivanting through Equestria and parts beyond, he was trying to find beings to practice on. For some reason, I find that thought amusing.
Part of me thinks that it's a good thing we haven't talked about it. If such a thing were even possible with somepony who rarely, if ever, shares their innermost thoughts, Discord strikes me as being even more guarded than normal. My read on him is that there is something weighing on his mind, but he isn't sure how to bring it up. Or if he even should bring it up. His wild red eyes offer me nothing to go on, however, and his whimsical changes of mood made it difficult to gauge what was really happening in that turbulent mind of his.
Finally, during afternoon tea at my cottage, the dam burst. It was probably just as well Angel Bunny wasn't around because this was going to be awkward enough as it was without him getting in the way, laughing his little furry head off. “Fluttershy,” Discord said, scratching the end of his nose with a talon, “kissing, according to my own research, is far more than just a gesture of friendliness, isn't it?
I took a deep breath because I suddenly felt as though all of the oxygen had been sucked from the room, and I needed a couple of seconds to figure out what the best tack would be to take. On the one hoof, I certainly wanted him to know how I felt, even if he didn't understand or feel the same way. Given the vast differences in our ages, backgrounds and even our species, I wasn't going to place too many bits on him magically wanting to be with me in kind.
On the other hoof, if he really was so naïve, so inexperienced that he had to do research on what a kiss meant, then I didn't want to feel as though I was taking advantage of him. Discord was still a friend, still somepony who was technically in my care, and that meant I had certain duties that I considered sacred toward him.
That somepony could be more innocent than I am? It scarcely bore thinking about. Especially one so ancient. My heart went out to him as I realised the depth of his isolation all these years. “It can be,” I finally said, taking a sip of tea while I gathered my thoughts. “For some, it's a greeting. For others, it's a way to convey intimacy.”
“And there are different types of kisses for different situations.”
“Yes,” I replied, though he wasn't really asking me a question, just thinking out loud. At the best of times, even with my friends, I always felt as though I was walking on eggshells around them; with Discord, that feeling was amplified a million times over. I knew well his capriciousness by now, and I didn't want to be on the wrong end of it. Still, though, I have a duty of care toward him and that meant explaining often painful things to him.
Love, if he ever wanted to experience it with a pony or any other being in Equestria, was a painful, messy, tricky business.
“What kind of kiss did you give me?” he asked, an inquisitive expression colouring his muzzle. Strange how, despite the odd assembly of features, he managed to look so handsome.
“Friendly.” My resolve, it seemed, had decided to abandon me.
“I see.” He took a bite of his cucumber sandwich without enthusiasm.
“You're disappointed?” I asked carefully, trying to keep my face neutral.
“No, not disappointed,” he replied, his claw hovering inarticulately in the air, as if trying to draw the words he wanted, needed, out of the ether. How did one explain what one could not understand? “When you kissed me, I felt something. It was similar to the pang I experienced when you walked away from me after I turned Ponyville to snow. Only a hundred billion times worse.”
Okay, I wasn't expecting that, and I felt a shudder of self-loathing. A familiar sensation. “I'm sorry,” I said meekly, not realising the suffering I had put him through.
“Why?”
“It sounds awful!”
“Not at all, dear.” Discord frowned, the realisation dawning on him that he wasn't making himself entirely clear to me. “That pang was the slivers of friendship being drawn from my pitiful excuse for a heart. The kiss amplified them. Is that possible? An exceptionally powerful form of friendship?” He cocked his head to the side, studying me intently. Just as Twilight Sparkle sought Princess Celestia's guidance whenever she was confronted with an insoluble problem, so, too, did Discord look to me for the same.
Discord. Lord of Chaos. Ageless, eternal, all-powerful. Looked to a timid pegasus for advice.
Despite having about as much magic as a blade of grass, I had somehow acquired my own friendship student. What a crazy world we lived in. “It is possible, Discord,” I said, offering him a small smile, knowing that it was now or never. “We call that feeling love. It's a powerful connection between ponies, one not easily broken. It can be a source of tremendous strength to us, but it also has the capacity to be one of our greatest weaknesses.”
He looked at me, and it pained me to see that he hadn't quite gotten the sense of what I was saying. Discord, I think, was looking at this as if it were a problem to be solved, a loose bit of chaos that had him temporarily stymied and needed to be worked out. “So. What do I do with it?”
“What does your own intuition tell you to do?”
Discord's eyes closed and he was silent for a moment. “It tells me … it tells me that I need to be close, physically, emotionally, spiritually, to the pony that I have this feeling for.”
I feel his appendages settle upon on my shoulders; when I looked up from behind my mane, all I could see before me was red. A colour that I had always associated with evil, with bad tidings. Well, no longer. Now it was the colour of beauty, of longing, of wanting.
“Is this close enough?” I asked, feeling his warm breath tickling my face.
“No,” he replies, his lips touching ever so softly against mine. “We need to be closer still.”
3. Intervention
My friends are less than thrilled by these developments; it has been about a month since Discord and I became an official couple, announcing ourselves to Twilight Sparkle and our other close friends, and the subtext to conversations around Ponyville has finally become text. It's all right for him: if the jokes, stories and gossip get to be too much for him to handle, Discord will just zap himself off to the Chaos Dimension and leave me having to deal with everypony on a daily basis.
Yes, he offered to take me with him, but I declined. Like I said before, I can deal with ponies talking behind my back.
I feel like I'm going through what I did at Summer Flight Camp all over again, except I don't have the liberty of excusing these ponies on the basis that they're dumb kids who don't know any better. When it's ponies that I respect, ponies that I've since come to care about, I can only take offence when I'm described as The Draconequus' Doxy. Who you are dating should not be anypony else's business, but then, can I really blame them for their reaction? How would I feel if Twilight Sparkle was to come home one day with Queen Chrysalis as her paramour?
That ridiculous thought gives me my first genuine smile after a trying few days.
I'm meeting up with the girls for a sleepover at the library; I hope and pray to all of the Goddesses that it will be just a normal get-together like any other, but I know what's coming, and I try to steel myself for it as best I can. Yes, their intentions are pure and honourable, but a as a wise pony once said, “The path to Tartarus is paved with good intentions.”
They're staging an intervention. They'll never say it out loud, but they think that I'm naïve, that I'm too stupid to make my own decisions, that I can't even be trusted when it comes to my own love life. To them, I'm just an animal lover who can't deal with anything more complex than feeding rabbits and singing with the birds. Goddesses, how I envy my friends their depth of understanding of me. Imagine how offended Twilight would be if I described her as just a librarian, or Pinkie Pie as just a baker. We're, all of us, more intricate than a couple of brief descriptions might suggest, but it suits them to think of me as simple.
The irony that I'm older than all of them is writ pretty large.
When I enter the library, I find them sitting in a rough horseshoe on the floor, waiting for me to join them with brittle smiles etched onto their muzzles; their expressions turn when I sit, becoming all but unreadable, though Pinkie Pie – as per usual – is the one having the most difficulty in keeping herself calm. Of all my friends, she's the one I find the most difficult to understand at times. Like Discord, she is capable of being flighty, of valuing fun for fun's sake, and I adore how her energy and presence lightens up even the darkest room. I think, given her fun-loving nature, she is the one most likely to empathise with my feelings.
Tartarus knows, in another universe, her and Discord might make an ideal match.
Rarity is the first to speak, and befitting her ladylike status, she does so quietly and gently, trying to keep her upper-crust accent free of emotion. While I do not think of myself as particularly ladylike – I care little for fashion, looking good, or preening myself – the fact that I am soft and delicate is probably why she thinks of me as the most feminine of the group, and thus the reason why she invites me with her to the spa so often.
While it isn't a profitable use of my time per se, it does at least give us the chance to spend time together, so I can at least value it for that alone. “Darling, Discord is … unpredictable. I'm not so sure that you've thought this through properly. What I mean to say is how can you be certain that he isn't just using you?”
“She's right,” says Rainbow Dash, never shy about venting her opinions when she thinks that she's right. Which is pretty much all of the time. Sometimes, I get the feeling that she likes to fly while talking simply because she enjoys the sensation of being above other ponies. “He's done some pretty nasty things in the past, and you're never going to know if he's fully reformed or not. What if he turns around tomorrow and buries Ponyville under snow, or chocolate milk, or something worse?”
I offer a shrug at this; I have thought about all these things and more, but you can't spend your entire life being ruled by what-ifs. “What if the weather team makes a mistake and a flash flood hits Ponyville? Or is encased in ice?”
“That's different,” Rainbow Dash replies protestingly, flying up close to my face until we are practically nose-to-nose. “What if he's just using you to find out more about us, about the Elements of Harmony, huh?”
“Discord is going to make mistakes, that's why we all have to help him,” I say. “Maybe he isn't fully reformed, but he's learning, he's trying, and he won't make any progress if you keep doubting his sincerity.” The words sound pitiful even as I utter them, but they're all that I have.
“Fluttershy, just last week he was swapping the manes and tails of all the ponies in town,” said an exasperated Twilight Sparkle. “You can't defend that sort of behaviour.”
“So. When Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash pull a prank, that's perfectly fine, but when Discord does it, it's suddenly a problem?”
“But-”
“-Nopony was left permanently injured, right? He always undoes his chaos once he's had his fun,” I say, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. They aren't ever going to see my point of view, and my frustration is threatening to boil over. In my entire life, I think I've only ever been properly angry once or twice, and I almost regret not adhering to Iron Will's teachings. Being able to express my annoyance would feel good right about now. Useless and damaging, of course, but good.
“Sugarcube,” Applejack says, her voice tender and concerned; the same one she uses when she's trying to console Apple Bloom, thus underscoring the fact that I'm just another little sister to her, somepony who needs the benefit of her wisdom and guidance. “We're only telling you this because we love you, all right? We don't want to see you getting hurt by somepony you barely know.”
“It's my choice to get hurt,” I say, my eyes closed, voice firm. “Discord has changed.” I turn to Twilight Sparkle, looking directly into her pretty mulberry eyes. “You're always telling me that everypony has good in them, that everypony deserves to feel the magic of friendship. Are you now telling me that you were lying?”
Twilight sighs, but before she can offer a rebuttal, I feel forelegs wrapping around my waist and a lock of dark pink hair tickling the back of my neck. “Fluttershy,” Pinkie Pie says, her voice more subdued than I've ever heard it, “if you're happy, then I'm happy. I may not trust Discord, but I trust you.”
Seems I was correct in my assertion, then. Of my five closest friends, only one supports me.
Only one understands my choices.
Still, it's better than nothing, isn't it?
I return Pinkie's hug and thank her for believing in me.
4. Monster
We spend the next few days together meeting up with Pinkie Pie at Sugarcube Corner; I wouldn't be so rude as to say that my other friends are giving us a wide berth, but that's exactly what they're doing. The six of us now only gather whenever Equestria needs saving, and that's only for about thirty minutes or so every week. Sadly, it's not really enough time to have a meaningful dialogue about what utter jerks they're being right now.
No, that's cruel. Yes, I understand that, from their perspective, they're just looking out for me, but it's the patronising nature of that concern that makes me think of them so wickedly. Their treatment of me, as if I'm some feeble-minded filly too driven by hr hormones to make a well-thought out decision, incites a quite fury within that fills me with such contempt for myself. Nopony ever tells Rainbow Dash to stop flying, or Twilight Sparkle to stop spending weekends rearranging her bookshelves, even though both of those things have plenty of potential for self-destruction also. But when it's the big, dumb baby of the group, it's free rein to tell her what to do.
I'm paraphrasing, of course. I can't tell them what I really think without coming across as a shrew in kind, unfortunately. They've never been fortunate enough to experience love; some of them have had infatuations, crushes, but they've never known that feeling of being connected, heart and soul, with another being. I wish I could share it with them, to make them understand, but I can't. I can only hope that they, too, find their own special someponies one day and maybe then they'll realise what they've been putting me through all this time with their doubts.
It's early in the afternoon, so the place is largely empty, but there are a few ponies dotted around the various tables, talking and whispering; I try not to let it bother me, but hushed voices always arouse my suspicions. Maybe they're just talking about the upcoming Equestria Games and whether or not they're going to try out for one of the teams?
Pinkie Pie bounds over to us with our order, somehow keeping everything perfectly balanced on her various limbs and atop her head, and I return my attention to the here and now: it's a large pecan pie, two hot chocolates, and a veritable mountain of whipped cream for both. Discord, of course, doesn't need to eat, but he seems to enjoy it, and he seems to enjoy having my company while he does so. If he wanted to, he could just snap his fingers and have anything he wanted, but I think he enjoys real, hoof-made food more than doing that.
I think. He seems to. For somepony I've been dating for over a month, I know so little about him. I want to ask, but more than that, I want him to feel like he can tell me anything. Honestly, it disturbs me a little how close I've gotten to somepony who is so cagey. He has his reasons, I'm sure, not least of which is the fact that he spent a thousand years of living death trapped as a stone statue while the world passed him by. Maybe he'll open up more as time goes on, as the other ponies begin to accept him? Maybe it's to protect me? Maybe there are things that he just can't share without setting off my tender sensibilities? That said, the knowledge that we could spend the next sixty years or so until my dying day together without ever chipping the surface of what makes him tick does weigh on my mind a little.
I wonder what he'll do, then? Without jealousy, I contemplate him moving on, finding somepony new. I hope so. I'd hate for him to be alone, to revert to his old ways. Princess Celestia will always be around to keep an eye on him, I suppose, keep him in line. The thought of him using anger and grief as an excuse to cause trouble, to become the Lord of Chaos again, makes my stomach feel jittery. I don't want him turned into a statue again.
“Discord?” Pinkie Pie has a look on her face that I'm having trouble reading. “Would you mind if I asked you a question?”
“Sure, Pinkie,” he says around a mouthful of pecans. I can't help but put my hoof to my mouth to stifle a giggle as he sprays crumbs and whipped cream all over the counter.
“Manners, dear,” I say, handing him a napkin.
“Does it bother you,” she asks, indicating the ponies in Sugarcube Corner, whom, I've just noticed, have backed off considerably from the counter and are giving us sideways glances whenever they think that we're not looking, “that they think you're still a monster?”
“Not at all, Pinkie Pie,” he says with that roguish smile of his, making a dismissive gesture with his lion paw. “Ponies fear the unknown, and they betray their fears through their ignorant, idle gossiping. I, in turn, simply choose to ignore them.” He turns to look at me, eyes bright. “You don't think that I'm a monster, do you, Fluttershy?”
“Yes, I do,” I say, and I have to hold a hoof up to his lips before he can interject. Even Pinkie Pie is looking at me in shock. “But not that kind of monster. You're a beautiful one, with a kind heart, and you just needed somepony to make you realise it. You shouldn't be ashamed of who are you, Discord.”
“Never,” he replies, kissing my cheek and leaving a trail of crumbs down one side of my face.
“You guys are so sweet together,” says Pinkie Pie excitedly. “If only I could bottle you two and use you as ingredients in my next batch of cupcakes!”
Discord and I share a look, then burst into peals of laughter; Pinkie Pie is not slow to join in, and we soon forget about the other ponies staring at us entirely. If my other friends could only see us together things would be perfect, but I quickly dismiss them from my thoughts. They'll come around eventually.
5. Love
As soon as we return home, I push Discord down on the bed, the springs creaking in protest as I land on top of him, and kiss his his muzzle all in one swift move; his clawed hand reaches around to the back of my neck, pulling me close to him, while the other roves along the gentle curve of my spine to the small of my back to …
“So. I'm not that kind of monster?” he asks, an impish gleam in his eye as he breaks the kiss in order to get a better look at my crimson features.
I blush deeply and suppress an embarrassed giggle. “Okay, I freely admit that it was a silly line, but it was the best I could think of in the heat of the moment. And speaking of heated moments ...”
“Fluttershy?” Discord's look is deadly serious, something I'm pretty sure I've never seen before, and just for a moment I forget the position that we're in.
“Yes?” I search his eyes for some sign of what is coming, but his intent is unclear to me. Wouldn't it just be so typical of my life to date if this is the point where he realises that he doesn't actually feel the same way about me? Or worse, if this is just an extended and elaborate prank that he's pulling?
My baseless fears are allayed the second he touches his lips to the edge of my nose, then to my muzzle, before he says to me, “I love you so much, Fluttershy. If this-” he gestures to how we are spread out across my, our bed “-is too much, too fast, then all you have to do is say so. I don't want to hurt you.”
“Is it too fast for you?” I ask, raising my eyebrow.
“No, of course not,” he replies, a little bit too quickly.
“Discord-”
“-Really, it's fine, but … well, you can read all the books and see all the films, but you're never quite sure how things are going to work out until you actually do them, right?”
“True,” I say, idly brushing a hoof through the unruly grey tangle that is his mane. “Shall we stop? Try again another time?”
He gives me his answer by placing a soft, tender kiss on my lips; it starts off slow, sweet and gentle, but as he finds his confidence, our mouths open and his tongue finds mine. They clash, they encircle, they part, a long trail of stringy saliva leaving us connected.
Panting, red and in need of air, he takes this opportunity to say to me, “Goddesses, you're so beautiful, Fluttershy.” His paw traces a line along my stomach, his fingers teasing at the sensitive flesh of my pelvis. He gives me a warm, inviting smile. “I don't know what I'd do without you now.”
“I feel the same way about you,” I reply, returning his smile and opening my hindlegs to encourage his progress. Even though I'm expecting it, I still jump a little when I feel the cool talon brushing against my most delicate spots. Rough and pointed, the sensation of it rubbing against me is sending tingly sensations reverberating throughout my entire body. I can't control the loud squeak that escapes my muzzle when the sturdy digit slips inside.
“Are you okay?” asks Discord, stopping what he's doing while shooting me a look of concern.
I almost want to start laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. “I'm fine. It's just …”
“Just?”
I clack my teeth together. So. He wants me to say it, huh? “I'm just not used to having anything in there.”
“Oh,” he says, momentarily becoming the picture of innocence before the most devilish grin that he can muster breaks out across his features. “We'll have to see what we can do about that, then, shan't we?”
All of a sudden, I find myself on my back, him over me with a sly grin creasing his muzzle, and my tail instinctively comes up between my hindlegs to preserve my modesty. Discord runs his paw through its silky softness before pulling it aside. He lines himself up with me and looks into my eyes. “Do you want this?” he asks quietly, all pretence of bravado abandoning him.
I nod slowly, sucking on my bottom lip and preparing for what is to come as best I can.
Though I think the situation is already quite well lubricated, Discord nonetheless spits on his paw and rubs it along me a couple of times. I make a mental note to ask him just what kind of films he'd been watching in preparation for this; I suppose he just wants to be sure that he isn't going to hurt me, and I can't find it in me to fault him for his sweetness or attentiveness.
“Ready?” he asks one more time.
“Yes!” Even I'm taken aback at just how loud that statement was.
In one fluid motion, he kisses my lips and thrusts deeply inside of me; my squeal is even louder than the one previously unleashed when his talon had worked its way into my depths, and he backs off a little. Opening my eyes, I see an apprehensive look on his face and I look down to see what has him so alarmed.
Blood.
“Don't worry,” I say soothingly, “that's perfectly normal when, ah, when somepony's new to this, okay? It's nothing to be concerned about.”
Despite my assurances, he's a little bit uneasy about continuing, but he does so at my inistence nonetheless; little tears start to form in my eyes, but once Discord begins to find his rhythm, the pain soon becomes little more than a fleeting memory and I'm left with the feeling of a pleasant fullness inside me. Spurred on by my contented moans, he speeds up a little and I hear him grunting into my ear.
Goddesses, this feels so good!
Every single one of my muscles is tensed, and – forgive the phrasing – I know what is coming up next: I let out a loud whinny as Discord continues to grind into me, and in a split-second rush my entire body goes limp as I reach the climax of my pleasure. The tiny jolts surging through me coalesce into one beautiful, explosive blossom that conspire to leave me feeling drained, limp and satiated. My forelegs encircle Discord, my hooves digging sharply into his back, and he groans in pain at my suddenly too tight grip on his flesh, but that doesn't seem to deter him.
Even though I continue to scratch at his back and tug at his hair, he is still kissing me, his serpentine tongue flicking lewdly at all the hard to reach places in my mouth; Discord plunges hard and deep inside me, and I feel a throbbing, pulsing sensation within. I whimper when his claws dig deep against my shoulders, wince when he roars his own satisfaction, and gasp softly when he collapses, spent, on top of me.
A long moment passes; we try to catch our breaths, not altogether successfully.
“Was that okay?” he finally asks, stroking my cheek with the back of his clawed hand, giving me an uneasy look.
“Discord, it was perfect,” I say, pulling him close. It was, too. My neck grazes against his and, together, we sigh.
We fell asleep as a crazy tangle of legs, arms, hands and hooves.
We fell asleep as one.