Applejack couldn't believe her luck.

At first, Spike had been reluctant to join her on her week-long retreat to the heart of Whitetail Woods, but some lighthearted reassurances by Twilight and herself were all that the young man needed to assent to their one-on-one excursion.

"Relax, sugar," she had told him the day after she'd won the wager—Twilight had looked equal parts terrified and overjoyed, seeing the bottle's nose land on Applejack—"that talk last night was jus' me poking a little fun at 'cha." She had smiled gently, clapping him softly on the shoulder. "'Sides, it'll be fun. When's the last time it was jus' you and me?"

Spike had paused, pondering, until it became clear that he couldn't come up with an answer.

"Fine, sure," he said, cracking a half-smile. "Besides, you'll need someone to keep you safe for when things get scary out there."

Applejack had rolled her eyes, hands planted firmly on her hips. "Thank goodness I've got such a big, strong man like yerself to keep me from harm's way," she drawled. Neither of them addressed the fact that Applejack could kick a tree in half if she so chose.

Rainbow Dash had insisted that the apple farmer had cheated, but couldn't provide an explanation as to how. In any case, Twilight wasn't willing to consider a re-spin. Applejack, for her part, had kept the showboating to a minimum.

So it was that several days later, the two found themselves backpacking to the wilds west of Ponyville, a scant few miles away from the base of the vast and imposing Smoky Mountains.

The first day had been the worst so far. Spike was used to traveling vast distances on foot, but he lacked the endurance and powerful muscle that Applejack had acquired from years of hard manual labor. They had needed to stop multiple times for him to rest, particularly on the more difficult hills and burrows. It was something that, despite Applejack's affections for the young man, caused her no small amount of frustration, though she did well to hide it.

They'd stopped for the day near a small stream, one that hadn't been indicated by the map she had brought. She'd made sure to avoid the railroad tracks—she'd wanted to remain as immersed in nature as possible—and going by the surrounding terrain, they were in the westernmost heart of the woods this side of the mountain range.

They had made good progress for the day, despite setbacks, Applejack had concluded. When Spike had complained about his aching muscles, the farmer teased him, offering to carry him bridal-style the rest of the way.

He hadn't found that very funny.

As for keeping clean, they had agreed to take turns bathing in the nearby stream, something that Applejack had looked forward to taking advantage of.

"You've got five minutes," she'd told him, as the young man emerged from his tent wearing only a towel.

He snorted. "Or what? You'll fish me out?"

"Or I'll come in," she'd replied. She'd had her back to him as she said it, though she could only imagine the stunned look on his face. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired of walking around in my own filth, so if you don't want little ol' me to harm yer young virgin eyes–"

"I got it," he called back, already walking away. Applejack chuckled, hunkering down and gathering supplies for a campfire later that night.

She busied herself with the usual preparations, and after a suitable amount of time had passed, she removed herself to the tent—they had only brought one—and undressed, throwing the clothes she had shed in the corner.

Exiting the tent, she donned a towel, which she noticed covered only the bottom half of her breasts to an inch or so past her buttocks. Applejack grumbled to herself, somewhat displeased to once again be reminded of her abnormal body size.

She sauntered to the stream, taking her time as she absorbed the crisp but heavy presence of the woods. Speckled light marked a path in intermittent bursts, a walkway nearly untrod by human feet. Applejack inhaled the deep earthy aroma and felt her muscles relax. She was in her element, she knew so without thinking it.

As she reached the stream, indicated by the burbling of water sounding like so many marbles coursing over each other, she thought to herself how easy it was to imagine that she and Spike were the only people on the planet. The thought lent itself to the unbridled freedom of the outdoors, and at that moment Applejack was fiercely glad of her decision to come here.

No responsibilities, no joint-grinding work. No family or friends to go see, no long walk down to the town square.

No one watching them.

Spike had remained in the stream longer than his allotted time, but Applejack couldn't blame him. As she dipped her feet into the surprisingly warm water, the current beat coaxingly at her skin and she let out a slow groan of approval, one which was drowned out by the peaceful, serenading rumble of the river.

She inched herself in gradually, starting when the water surged past her thighs, until finally she found herself neck-deep in the burbling brook. The current was just shy of being obtrusive, tugging without any real force, allowing Applejack to release her hold on the bank and wade out toward the middle where Spike was.

"Couldn't get out, huh?" she asked teasingly, when she had positioned herself directly behind him.

Spike cursed, nearly losing his balance and falling over into the water. "Warn me next time you do that," he cried, backstroking a safe distance.

"I don't blame you," she confessed, closing the distance again, smiling. "Nothin' like losing yourself in it completely, innit?" She sighed pleasurably, rolling her shoulders. "I can't believe I almost forgot what it was like."

"It's nice," he agreed cautiously, eyeing Applejack somewhat uncomfortably.

The farmer rolled her eyes. "Land's sake, there's no reason to be a stick in the mud. We're jus' out here, bathin' together. Nothin' nefarious." She feinted towards him, grinning as he flinched away.

"I–Applejack, I'm not even wearing clothes!" He protested.

The blonde held his gaze, now finding his prudishness less entertaining. "Neither am I, but you don't see me making a deal of it, do ya?"

He said nothing, only watching her reservedly.

Applejack had had enough. "C'mere," she said, reaching for his arm.

Spike recoiled, backing away. "Wh–no! Don't touch me!"

"Would you stop being afraid of me?!" she barked, swimming closer. Spike's back pressed against the riverbank, to his dismay. Applejack planted her strong, firm arms on either side of him, preventing him from retreating further. She drifted in the water, not a foot away from him.

"Look at me," she ordered, lifting a hand to grasp his shoulder gently. She repeated herself once more, her expression softening when he complied, albeit with visible reluctance. "Spike, do you trust me?"

He didn't answer immediately. She could tell from his troubled stare that he wanted to answer in the affirmative, but part of him was expecting a trap, a try at some primal desire that lurked at the back of his companion's mind.

"I think so," he finally answered, voice low.

Frowning, Applejack allowed the statement to sink in, before trying to decide how next to proceed. She lifted a hand to his neck, rubbing it softly. "You know that I'd never hurt you, right?"

"Yes," he replied, slightly faster than before.

"And you know that I'd never take advantage of you?"

Now he looked at her, peered into her eyes, her green orbs offering honesty where his emerald were seeking it. She could tell by looking at him the moment he reached an inner conclusion. Spike seemed to shrink in on himself slightly. "Yes," he said quietly.

"Okay then," she said, just as quiet.

She inhaled, bracing herself for what she was about to say. Exhaling, she noticed the effect her breath had on his wet, exposed skin.

"Spike," she breathed, "you have to realize something." She met his eyes again, massaging his jaw with her own powerful hand. "You're not a little kid anymore, you jus' ain't. And I'm sorry if I'm making you uncomfortable, but now that you're full-grown and all, I know I can't expect you to react the same way ya used to do when y'all were little." She moved slightly closer to him. "Things are always gonna weird be like this, now that you got big and we went an' noticed each other. And there's nothing we can do about it until we talk it out."

He gazed into her eyes, and Applejack realized with an unexplained guilt that some part of him felt a deep, internal responsibility for growing up, for steadily gaining a deeper understanding of his friends as he grew older. Somewhere along the line, Spike had come to view the people around him in a complete and unfiltered capacity, something that he had been loathe to confront.

All of this, she could understand from the honesty of his eyes. She pressed forward, winding her arms underneath his to grasp the bank opposite her. Their chests pressed gently against the other, and Applejack rested her head on his shoulders.

They stayed like that for a while, with Applejack registering the young man's fevered heartbeat slamming into his ribcage at the proximity of her bare breasts.

"Breathe," Applejack commanded gently, and the boy obliged her with obedience. Soon, after a minute of steadying breathes and coaxing words from his companion, Spike's heartbeat slowed, to the point where his and Applejack's flickered in and out of synchronization.

"Better?" she asked, and she felt him nod, before he remembered she couldn't see him, and answered audibly in the affirmative.

"Better," he said, his voice more stable.

Applejack disengaged her body from his, smiling. She retreated to a respectable distance, maintaining eye contact. His gaze was slightly lidded, as if he was tired.

"Now look," she said softly, and he paid full attention to her. "I'm naked," she said, turning around and indicating her bare back, before rotating back. "You're naked," she stated, indicating his bare chest and wet hair. "The fish are naked," she proclaimed, to Spike's surprise. "The birds are naked, hell, that squirrel over there's got his cock hangin' out–"

"Applejack–"

"Now you can go and be embarrassed all you want," Applejack said, focusing her attention again on her young companion, "but the fact of the matter is that I'm the same ol' Applejack, whether I'm wearin' pants and a shirt or jus' the hide on my back. I ain't any more liable to act out jus' cause you caught the girls drifting."

Spike nodded, the last traces of reddened embarrassment leaving his face.

"And if you don't trust me to treat you right," Applejack said, and Spike caught a pained look fleeting across her face, "well then, we're gonna have a time of it spending these next couple days together."

The green-haired teenager sighed, rubbing his shoulder and looking away. "Okay, Applejack. I get you."

"Do you?" Applejack asked. "Because if we're gonna be out here, I need you to feel safe around me."

"I–" he started, before taking a deep breath. "That's fair," he admitted. "But I trust you." After a moment of hesitation, he added, "And I'm sorry."

The apple farmer beamed. "Much obliged." She turned around, wading out towards the middle of the stream, towards the shore nearest to camp. "Now do me a favor and give me one of those back massages you're so good at."

Twilight sat up in her bed, cursing and loving the pain in her hips at the same time.

It was close to three in the morning, she noted as she grasped her eyeglasses from the nightstand next to her. Gentle snores echoed forth from under a pillow, and the Princess made sure to move as quietly as possible so she didn't wake her partner.

Big McIntosh, or Mac, as he preferred to be called, was deceptively peaceful. He possessed all of Applejack's strength, and then some, as her aching thighs could attest. In addition, he possessed none of his sister's intensity. The large man was calm, if not firm, and certainly well aware of the attention he garnered wherever he went.

Twilight felt somewhat guilty for not seeking out the elder Apple sibling earlier, for not getting to know him on a personal level, but there was no helping that now. There had been an unspoken law between the girls that demanded all of friends of Applejack maintain a friendly but respectful distance from her brother. If Mac's earlier comments, few as they were, were any indication, he'd been on the same boat. Being a family man before all else, and having no close friends of his own, he had felt reasonably isolated.

I would've liked to get t'know you first, he had confessed to Twilight before they started, and her guilt was palpable.

The same day Applejack and Spike had left on their week-long trek to Whitetail Woods, Apple Bloom and her big brother had stopped by the castle to check in on her. Luckily enough, the other Crusaders had been close by, so after a short while Apple Bloom hadn't needed much coaxing to leave the two adults to themselves.

One look at McIntosh was all that Twilight needed—they both knew why he was there, it was in his eyes. To her credit, she smiled and offered to "Make some dinner, first."

He accepted, smiling gently, but it seemed almost as though he was looking through her at something else.

It was with a detached, surreal quality that Twilight went through the motions, and wondered if she should really be doing this. She knew herself well-enough, though, to know that when she got like this it was impossible for her to stop herself from going forward.

As the sunset painted the kitchen in warm light through a nearby window, Twilight found that she immensely regretted inviting her partner to dinner. Mac wasn't much for talking, but since he was only here to fuck—she'd only invited him to fuck—a companionable silence wasn't really in the cards. So she had tried talking for the both of them, filling the conversation with meaningless filler until they could get to the reason of his visit. The main problem was, however, that her conversation filler sounded fake and guilty, which made it so much worse than the awkward silence.

And then Big McIntosh—beautiful, smart McIntosh—declared halfway through dinner that no, he wasn't that hungry after all, and would instead like to talk a walk around the castle. And Twilight, being the opposite of an idiot and realizing an out when it was provided, graciously deigned to guide him through the halls.

So they found themselves in the throne room, that beloved circle of chairs where Twilight and her sisters spent many sacred nights in each other's company. A pang of icy guilt shot through Twilight as she stopped, feeling as though she was fumbling through the dark with matters she shouldn't concern herself with.

Then Applejack's hot brother asked Twilight to sit in her seat and put on her crown, before he promptly ate her out in the middle of the throne room, and the Princess of Magic simply stopped giving a fuck.

He had hiked up her skirt past her hips, pulling her starburst-patterned underwear off her pelvis and flung it God knows where, and buckled down, brushing his tongue against the outer folds of her vagina and allowing his steaming breath to wet her lips.

Twilight shuddered, falling down slightly in her seat as her eyes watered. "Please take off your shirt," she asked submissively, and the tanned farmer obliged, pulling back to unbutton his rich red flannel shirt and discarding it. Twilight hadn't given it much thought before then, but she was immensely glad that his toned and muscular chest was free of hair. She recalled that his build was that of a strongman, not that of an athlete like so many of the other showoffs in town.

It was then that Twilight reminded herself that this is why she made that deal with Applejack, this was what made up for the awkward filler and the guilt and the going through of the motions. She reminded herself that at the end of the day, the two of them, she and Mac, were two consenting adults who really just needed to get laid.

It having been weeks on months on years of Twilight going without any kind of sexual involvement, it didn't take McIntosh long at all to bring her closer and closer to a climax. His tongue and lips rarely left Twilight's loins, coursing and kissing wherever they could find purchase. He pushed into her a few times, licking her insides while he did this thing with his upper lip that made it brush against her clit every so often and tease the hell out of her.

She splayed her legs wide open—what if someone saw her, she thought with a thrill, the castle wasn't locked until an hour after sunset—and her feet rested on her lover's broad, broad shoulders, surging back towards her with each thrust of his head.

Twilight gave a low cry, whimpering and placing one hand on Mac's head while the other covered her eyes. This doesn't happen, she thought to herself, Twilight Sparkle doesn't get fucked in her throne room by her best friend's brother.

His tongue slithered out of Twilight's pussy, clinging to the roof and brushing so hard against her clit that Twilight swore she could count the taste buds as they passed.

He looked up at Twilight, his green eyes uncharacteristically fierce and demanding. McIntosh's lips clamped down around Twilight's bump, and as the Princess thought that he really did look a lot like Applejack after all, Mac sucked.

Twilight's body wracked, feeling as if her life came tumbling out of her veins and shooting out through her cunt. She really didn't know any other way of describing her orgasm; after the waves of pleasure had come coursing down her body and out across McIntosh's face, Twilight felt spent, like a sweaty, cold, freshly-electrified corpse of a woman. Some part of her wondered if she had ever done anything to warrant Applejack's older brother wanting to go down on her, or if that was simply something he liked to do for the women he bedded.

Big McIntosh—sweet, beautiful, great-with-his-mouth McIntosh, bless the child—pulled her up, the Princess of Magic, and smiled at her. "Still with me?" he asked.

Twilight knew she was exhausted, but she didn't know she would sound so tired as she bleated, "Please let me suck your dick."

His smile widened into a softhearted grin, and Twilight realized that she had managed to flatter the guy. "Can you lead me back to your room?" At her weary gaze, he unzipped his pants and revealed himself to his Princess.

Twilight's eyes widened as the woman got up in her seat and instantly reached for it, open-mouthed and skeptical. She almost wanted to check with her magic to make sure she wasn't seeing an illusion.

Mac batted her hand away gently. "Bedroom," he insisted, and Twilight obliged. With a wave of a magic hand, the two were teleported to Twilight's room, landing soundly on her purple circular mattress.

"I know, I said I'd suck your dick, and I will," Twilight rambled, throwing herself down on her back and spreading her legs, "but if you don't get inside of me in the next five seconds, I think I might actually die."

"Can't have that," McIntosh said sarcastically, leaning down and lining up his apple-headed monster with Twilight's already soaked folds. With a quick check to her face to make sure Twilight wasn't in pain, he pushed into her, groaning loudly all the while. She kicked off her modest purple heels and yanked her lilac dress to above her stomach. She remembered to keep her crown on, though—she wasn't so far gone as to forget what he liked.

As her lover reached all the way back to the innermost caverns of Twilight's pussy, the Princess of Magic seriously debated whether it would be irresponsible to dedicate a holiday to Mac and his life-changing dick.

In that moment where he bottomed out, in that single infinitesimal moment in time, Twilight knew a peace that defied all understanding. She perceived the universe in motion around her, the cures to any and every disease, saw even the moment of her death in the far off future, and welcomed it all lovingly.

Then McIntosh pulled his dick out of her, Twilight slid across the sheets with him because she was clamping so tight, and as he thrust back into her, Twilight could only scream "FUCK!" as the universe collapsed around her.

As he slammed into her, Twilight's breasts jostled themselves out of her bra, rocking along with the bed as the man with the beautiful cock speared her again and again, killing her a little bit more each time. She didn't know what her cervix ever did to Applejack's brother, but the guy seemed to be doing his damndest to bash its brains in with the head of his dick. It wasn't exactly painful, but Twilight soon found it hard to breathe through her mouth, feeling as if she was being punched in the gut repeatedly.

Eventually, she switched positions, lying prone on her stomach so he could beat into her and watch her ass move with the motions. He spanked her roughly with the palm of his hand, and Twilight vaguely recalled calling him Daddy a few times, she wasn't sure.

The farmer's thrusts soon lost their consistency as his hips rolled continuously into Twilight's, becoming erratic and urgent. His cock buried itself in Twilight's scorching insides as Mac breathed, pressing close against his lover's back and asking if she wanted him to pull out.

In the heat of the moment she had answered Fuck No, I Want Your Big-Dicked Babies. Mac didn't really know what to say to that, so instead he just pulled out and unloaded several thick jettisons of cum into Twilight's mouth, which the Princess concluded was still a pretty awesome finish.

As Twilight finished her recollection of the night's events, she reminded herself that Spike and Applejack had left only that afternoon. She still had six days to commit sacrilege with Mac all over her castle, and maybe form an actual lasting friendship that was eight years overdue.

She realized that yes, in the interest of a week of amazing sex with her best friend's beast of a brother, it was completely worth selling out Spike to aforementioned best friend. Hell, Spike was likely getting his soul fucked out right now, he'd probably end up thanking Twilight for her unusually wise decision.

Of course, though, all the real credit lay with Applejack, who thought so quickly on her feet and made the whole deal possible.

Fucking bless you, Applejack, she thought to herself, nestling back down in her bed and pressing her back to her lover's snoring chest.

After giving his companion one of his famous back massages—he'd had to work from the side as Applejack was fond of allowing her legs to drift with the current—they'd gotten back to camp. With a little work, Spike found himself able to look at a naked Applejack without feeling undue discomfort, or other, more polarizing emotions. The ease with which he could suddenly separate sexuality and nudity astounded him.

They napped through most of the afternoon, after which they ascended a nearby hill, which afforded them a clear view of the sky above the canopy. Together, they watched the sunset as they rested in the grass, side by side.

Applejack sighed, causing Spike to look over at her. The bleeding amber skyline was reflected in what he could see of her slanted eyes. Her skin, reddened by the horizon, radiated energy and strength, which was reinforced by the gravitas of her powerfully built body. The young man wondered what was on her mind, and thought to inquire. As if she had felt his curiosity, Applejack spoke up before he could ask.

"You ever think of running away, sometimes?" she asked, her voice pondering.

Spike's eyes widened. "From what?"

"Everything." Her arms folded underneath her chin, contemplative in stance. "Jus' getting up and leaving everything behind to go see something new."

Spike wasn't sure he was comfortable with this line of thought, but if Applejack was interested enough to broach it, he felt he could at least indulge her. "I used to, when I was a kid, sometimes."

"Me too," she admitted. "I mean, I actually did, once, but I came back."

"Where'd you go?"

"Manehattan."

Spike ahhed in recognition. "Right, you told me. Your aunt and uncle took you in?"

"Eeyup."

She was silent, so long that Spike felt awkward waiting on her to continue. "I don't think that counts, though."

Now she looked at him, the sunset still in her face. "Why not?"

"Well, you weren't really running away," he observed, "you just moved to go live somewhere else. Running away means not telling anyone where you're going."

She blinked, absorbing that.

"Do you want that?"

Applejack shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe." She sighed, her voice sounding pained and filled with longing. "Sometimes I jus' need to get away from it all, so's I can remind myself who I am."

Spike pondered this. "Was that the reason for this trip?"

"Yep."

More silence, though this time it felt to Spike amiable rather than awkward.

After several minutes, the sunset started to wind down, the massive orb of fire shrouding itself in the skyline.

"It's jus'," Applejack said, breaking the silence, "sometimes I get caught up in the 'me' that I am with everyone else, and I don't get too much time to find out what I'm like inside. Like, I don't know the deep-down Applejack anymore, and I gotta come out here sometimes and do some diggin' to find her again."

Spike sat on his side now, turning his body towards her. "Like you're wearing so many hats, you forget what color your hair is?"

Applejack snapped her fingers, a small sound of laughter escaping her mouth. "Jus' like that, see!" She rolled onto her stomach, glad of his understanding. "You ever feel like there's a buncha different 'you's' all bunched up in your skin, and you lose track of who's who?" She didn't wait for an answer, which was fortunate, as Spike didn't have one. "See, it's like, I'm Apple Bloom's sister. And I'm also the woman out there fightin' monsters and helpin' save the kingdom every other month. But the two, they don't even know each other. Granny Smith's granddaughter ain't the same person as Rainbow Dash's best friend. I ain't the Element of Honesty the world needs me to be when I'm minding the apple fields 'n breaking my back." She shifted. "And it's like they're all me, but there's more to me than jus' them. Sum of your parts, and what not."

Spike's eyes widened in realization. "Lots of hats," he murmured.

"Lotsa hats," she confirmed, taking a deep breath. "Sorry, I..." she shrugged. "I jus' get to thinking these things, and, I dunno, it feels...heavy." She rolled onto her bottom, supporting herself with her hands as she gazed into the distance. "So I come out here, and it gets better for a while." She ripped off her stetson and shook her long, flowing hair loose. "I come out here, I can remember what I'm like, and I can stand a little straighter 'cause I ain't gotta wear no hats."

They got up from the hill, guiding each other with their hands and minding the stars in the sky as they meandered back to camp. Applejack heaved a sizable amount of firewood into a circle of stones, then signaled for Spike to let loose. The young man pursed his lips, calling forth a stream of green fire to ignite the pile of kindling. Moments later, they sat on separate logs, watching the pillar of flames grow higher and higher into the night.

Applejack felt the scorching heat cause the skin on her face to retract. She removed her boots and socks, allowing the heat of the bonfire to surge through her body. Next to her, Spike opened a duffle bag, pulling out a pair of bent wire coat hangers, a massive bag of marshmallows, and an eight-pack of hot dogs.

As he speared both sticks, Applejack monitored him out of the corner of her eye.

Over the years, Spike had changed greatly in physical appearance, but little in terms of personality. Indeed, with the spirit of a sardonic old man, it seemed that his body would forever be playing catch-up with his mind.

He wasn't particularly muscular or otherwise physically imposing, but he had a natural sort of beauty, much like Applejack herself, or even Fluttershy, though obviously more masculine. His stiff sylvan hair pointed ever forward, and his gently pointed jaw leant his face a sense of male confidence.

Somehow, he had felt Applejack's gaze on him and ceased his movements to look at her, questioningly. "What is it?"

The farmer grinned slightly. "You wanna play a game?"

Spike looked at her, suspecting a trap. "What kind?"

"Let's say, uh, Twenty Questions. Sound good?"

He considered her request. "Alright, sure. Bring it on."

The blonde smiled, stretching back and accepting a marshmallow on a stick as it was offered to her. "Okay then." She entertained several different questions before deciding on one. "Who's the prettiest woman you've ever seen?"

Spike groaned, as if he had been expecting this. "Should've guessed."

"C'mon, who?" Applejack pressed.

The green-haired hesitated. "Cadance," he answered.

Applejack blinked. "Really?" She hadn't expected that at all.

"Yeah."

"Huh," she said, chewing on her tongue. "If you could have any of the Princesses, who would you choose?"

Spike pondered the question briefly. "Twilight."

Applejack was stumped again. "Why?" She thought for sure he'd repeat Cadance's name, or at least say Celestia.

"Cadance is married," he clarified, "Twilight worships Celestia like a goddess, Luna scares and arouses me at the same time, and if I messed up with any of them, I could potentially ruin a country." He shrugged. "Twilight's the safe bet."

"Huh," Applejack repeated. "That's...actually well-reasoned." Spike shrugged, accepting the compliment.

"What next?"

"Alright, how about this?" Applejack said, rubbing her hands together. "Any woman in town, who do you pick?"

"For what?"

"For anything," the farmer said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Spike sighed. "Zecora."

Surprised for the third time, Applejack wondered what the rationale was, and tried not to jump on the immediate reason why he'd choose her–

"And yes, it's because of her skin," he clarified.

"Is that a, um, thing you have?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "A fetish?"

"She looks good, and I want to taste her. Satisfied?"

Applejack choked on her spit. This was a getting a little too real for her. "Satisfied," she said, wheezing.

After taking a few moments to get her breath back, she composed herself. "Okay, this'll be good: most important part on a woman's body?"

"Hair," he answered immediately.

"Bullshit," she replied, skeptical.

Spike grinned at her response. "I think it's important for a woman to look classy." He crossed his arms. "Give me Sapphire Shores with a bald spot, I wouldn't touch her."

Applejack wondered if he was telling the truth. "Was that why you said Cadance at first?"

"Part of it, yeah."

"If you had to do someone's mom–"

"Mrs. Cake."

"Biggest walking fetish?"

"Nurse Redheart."

"Nicest ass–"

"Your sister–"

"Oh, fuck you–"

"You asked!"

Applejack growled. "Whatever. Hottest old woman?"

Spike looked at her suspiciously. "Celestia...?"

The farmer rolled her eyes. "Hottest old woman who looks old?"

"Oh. That one games inspector."

"The one with the short hair and the fat ass?"

"You know it!" Spike laughed, getting into it.

"Favorite position?" Applejack asked, hoping to throw him off.

It worked. Red-faced, Spike eyed her, thinking. "Missionary," he finally said.

"Oh," Applejack said, waving the answer away like an irritating fly, "I forgot, you're into that vanilla mess."

"You can see each other's face while you're doing it," Spike protested. "It's romantic."

"In theory," she added, winking at him.

Spike crossed his arms, unable to challenge her remark. "Whatever."

She burned through a few more questions, until Spike reminded her that she only had three remaining. He watched her, curious as to what she would ask with her final inquiries.

"If you could have anyone out of the six of us," she started, and this caught Spike's attention, "who would it be?"

Spike hesitated, leaning back and looking at the night sky. "Pinkie," he decided, looking back at his companion.

Truth be told, Applejack was surprised, but not out of disappointment. "Why not Rarity?"

"I don't..." he sighed. "I don't think I feel that way about her anymore," he said, to Applejack's immense surprise. "Not as strongly, at least." At her insistent look, he continued. "It's just, the more I think about it, the more I felt ridiculous for ever really thinking it would happen. It feels like I'm in a different league than her, sometimes. Like she's operating on a different level than me." He spoke as if he'd thought about the subject at length.

"And Pinkie isn't?"

"Pinkie's on everybody's level," Spike stated, and Applejack found that she couldn't really argue that point.

She was silent for several moments, mulling over this rather significant piece of news. It shifted pretty much everything she thought of Spike, from her opinion on his maturity to hopefulness of her own, to a kind of wilting sadness that her friend felt he wasn't the right person for the woman he grew up loving.

Suddenly, before she could stop herself, she asked, "What about me?"

Spike looked up at her, his expression nearly blank. It bothered Applejack that the question hadn't seemed to surprise him. Was she really that transparent?

"I think you're out of questions," he said quietly, and turned back to look at the fire.

They spoke no more that night.

After nearly half an hour of silence, a mute sense of agreement reached the two that it was time to retire for the evening.

After Applejack kicked dirt into the ebbing flames of their fit pit, she turned to her side, expecting to tell Spike to gather up their supplies and bring into the tent. Which was unnecessary, as he had already done so and left Applejack to herself.

Sighing, the farmer kicked off her boots, leaving them just outside the tent as she entered after her partner.

Spike was already undressed and shirtless, resting under the comforter as he read an untitled book by light of the bug zapper hanging outside their tent. Applejack stripped herself of her clothes, wondering if he would look at her while she did it. If he had, he did a good job of hiding it.

Clad in only a reasonably-sized sports bra and boyshorts, she settled in the covers next to Spike, wincing slightly as she felt the brush of the ground through the tent layer underneath her.

"G'night," she whispered, frowning when she heard him repeat her sentiment to her in a grunt. She fell asleep while he was still reading.

The next few days were by far the worst.

Applejack rose late, to her own surprise. Usually she and her family woke while it was still dark in the sky, but on that Tuesday morning the young blonde farmer exited her tent to find blue skies and sunshine overhead. She frowned—she thought she had felt Spike leave the tent in the early hours of the morning, but she didn't anticipate him allowing her to sleep in so late.

Blinking, she glanced around the campsite. Directly in front of the tent, drawn in the dirt was an arrow pointing away from the clearing, towards the river. Her frown deepened, carving deep lines into her usually proud and youthful face.

It was a matter of seconds before she noticed the plate sitting on top of one of the logs from last night. Applejack raised an eyebrow, surprised that the young man had thought to make breakfast for her before setting off to the river to bathe. She hunkered down on the rough piece of wood and ate, wishing that it had been a little warmer.

As she got halfway through her meal, she heard footsteps approaching the camp.

"Hey," Spike said, clad only in a towel and flip-flops.

"Hey," Applejack returned, keeping her gaze on the dead wood in the fire pit. Neither camper met the other's eyes.

As the farmer finished, she placed the dishes to the side and grabbed her towel, heading to the river to bathe.

Applejack inhaled the air as she walked down the path, but no matter how fresh it smelled to her, it didn't seem to fill her lungs to the brim quite like it did yesterday. Her soaking was brief and strangely sordid. For the first time in her adult years, Applejack felt naked, truly exposed out in the water. She found herself glad to exit as soon as she had finished, then angry and sad at herself for betraying the woods with her discomfort.

As she got back to the clearing, she found that Spike had dressed and packed up the rest of the camp.

His eyes widened as he saw Applejack return—he had already collapsed the tent. "Sorry, I forgot–"

"It's fine," she said, trying for a smile and failing. She pulled her clothes out of a duffle bag and began to change. Spike turned around to allow her to change in silence, but Applejack forced a laugh and commented, "It ain't nothing you haven't seen before." But he didn't respond, and the fake laugh felt fake and stale and Applejack felt stupid for even daring to speak up.

She was pissed off at him and at herself: one question, one stupid little desperate comment and they're weren't talking to each other. He had to know she was attracted to him, she had assumed that was common knowledge by this point. They were both regarded as the 'mature' ones of their friends, dammit, they were above this petty, awkward cold-shoulder nonsense.

They traveled in silence for the rest of the day, Applejack not singing wilderness tunes, Spike not complaining of the distances traveled. Applejack made sure to eat on the way so that she wasn't hungry come nightfall: when they set up camp at a cozy little cove, then, Applejack entered the tent early and didn't come out. She pretended not to have seen Spike's look of surprise as he held open the bag of rations, though she felt a vindictive satisfaction all the same.

Wednesday, it had rained.

Spike decided that he was going to stay in the tent all day, even though it leaked occasionally. Since Applejack was still upset with him for ignoring her, though, she stubbornly decided to crouch under a reasonably sheltered tree, even though it leaked occasionally. Come sunset, the rain still hadn't let up, and Spike opened the flap to the tent to find a sullen Applejack hunched over, sopping hat drooped as she peered miserably out at a tumultuous lake.

Eventually, she had decided to come in and towel off. After some hesitation, she removed her underwear and exchanged it for a new pair. She was sure that she had felt Spike's eyes on her this time, and allowed for that to be her only small satisfaction for that disastrous day.

Later that night, Applejack curled up under the covers, shuddering when Spike's hand brushed across her back.

"You're freezing," he said, worried.

"'m fine," she grumbled, her voice raspy from not being used all day. She asserted that she didn't need any special attention, but neither did Applejack protest when she felt Spike's bare chest align with her back. She sighed when his arm encircled her waist, and figured that just this once, she could forgive him.

Applejack woke the next morning in a decidedly better mood.

Despite the misery of yesterday, the stocky young woman felt uncommonly well-rested. Yawning, she attempted to sit up, only to stop, confused, when an arm wrapped about her stomach stopped her.

"Don't get up yet," Spike groaned, and Applejack was reminded of her deep love for a man's early morning voice. It was one of her more enjoyable reminders that the young man she had watched grow up was no longer a boy.

"Okay," Applejack whispered, gently easing her way back down into his bare-chested embrace. Spike gently brushed the hair out of her face, and Applejack urgently reminded herself that they weren't yet at the point where she could turn around and kiss him.

Eventually, though, the farmer knew that the peace of dawn had to end. So it was that a scant few hours later, their silent vigil together ended, and Applejack disentangled their limbs as she rose to face the day. Gone were the fleeting early morning moments where they could curl up next to each other and forgo thinking—the day was for Walking and Talking and Fighting, or so the past few days had proven.

Applejack and Spike decided to go without bathing that morning: the nearby lake was teeming with wildlife, and the ground was still loamy from yesterday's torrential onslaught, as evidenced by the abundance of earthworms on the surface.

Instead, Applejack decided to go fishing.

Grabbing a slim, sturdy wooden rod nearby, Applejack placed it to her side, then selected a handful of hairs from the bottom of her ponytail and cut them with a utility knife from her pocket. She examined the golden strands she held—they were certainly long enough, especially when placed end to end, but her foreign, oily smell would likely keep the fish from biting. She resolved to roll the strands around in the mud a little after she finished braiding them.

Applejack's work took her only ten or so minutes, so deft were her hands. She tugged on the thirteen foot-long braid: tough, just like her. She grinned.

Using her knife, she created a thin slit through the thickest part of the branch and slit the cord through. Taking one of the wire hangers from the previous nights, she bent off a small piece and fashioned it into a hook, grinding the end against a rock until she deemed it sharp enough.

The work on the makeshift fishing pole was crude, she noted, but it would serve its purpose well. She speared a nearby earthworm and cast her line into the lake.

The sky overhead was grey, with a very light drizzle coming down. The mountains were to their backs, and Applejack could hear a faint rumble off in the distance, a portend of a coming storm.

She had been in no mood to get even more of her clothes wet, so she wore only a flattering red bikini top and deep black swim trunks. Her hair lay against her back, unmarked by her usual tie. Her trademark stetson rested in her lap.

Nothing was biting so far, but then, fishing was a game of patience, after all.

After a while, Spike came over to sit beside her. Neither of them felt the need to speak, but Applejack was glad to notice that the tension from the past two days seemed to have died that previous night.

They sat for what seemed like hours, comfortable and trusting in the other's presence. The only sound was the constant hoots and howls of the forest behind them, and the gentle percussion of rain on the lake's surface. Occasionally Applejack would snag a fish on her makeshift pole, which she would immediately retrieve, snuff out its life as quickly and painlessly as possible, and add to a growing pile next to her. The smell started to bother her after a while, but she didn't complain.

After an eternity of silence, Spike asked, "Why did you really ask me to come with you?"

Applejack wasn't quick to answer; not because she needed to think of one, but rather that she felt no need to rush, such was the effect the outdoors had on her.

The farmer breathed in the drizzling rain, the untamed wilds, felt it coat her insides with its primal energies. The mud beneath her toes and the water lousy with life called to her, bled into her, and she was reminded for the first time in a long time what it was like to be Applejack.

"I got another hat I been wearin'," she said slowly, and Spike had to strain to hear her over the rain, "and no matter how I look at it, I can't seem to take it off." She looked at Spike, green eyes shining from behind the flaxen stands of her hair. "Only, sometimes I can't tell if it's a hat at all, or jus' me. Cause the only time I even know it's there, is when you're there."

Spike's eyes widened marginally, though he didn't pull away. Instead, he pulled in closer, his shoulder bumping hers.

Applejack turned back to face the lake—it was easier to talk to him when she didn't have to look at him. "It's funny," she said, "being around you. Cause sometimes I jus' don't know how I should act. I don't know what hat to put on, or if I should jus' be m'self. I dunno if you want the Applejack that you grew up with, or the girl who saved ya from those timber wolves all them years back, or what."

She shook her head. "I dunno if you'd be mad at me if I told you I was puttin' on a brave face for ya all those times. And, ya know, I watched you grow up 'n get big, and I seen what you've become, and I approve of ya, I like ya. And then sometimes I get to feeling guilty for," she swallowed, hard, "for feeling attracted to you." Applejack wiped a glistening corner of her eye with her wrist and sniffled. "And I don't really know what to do about it, and I'm not sure if you're ready to see me as an equal jus' yet. I don't know if tellin' you will hurt you or not, cause it feels like I'm tramplin' on somethin' sacred when I think about kissin' you."

As soon as she finished, Applejack wished that she'd never answered in the first place. A great weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, but at the cost of her privacy. She felt naked and exposed and stupid in front of him, and it was a terrible vulnerability that she knew he wouldn't be able to handle.

She hadn't seen him move, but suddenly his arms moved under her shoulders, enveloping the two companions in a close embrace. Applejack's fishing pole lay to the side, forgotten.

"Look at me," Spike said, his voice low and comforting. Applejack obeyed, lifting her teary green eyes to meet his, which were alienating in their composure. The young man pressed his forehead against Applejack's, and it was in moments like these that he seemed so much older than he really was. Maybe it was the dragon in him, Applejack resolved.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

Instantly Applejack nodded, her eyes never breaking contact with his.

Spike smiled gently, with a hint of sadness. "And you know I'd never hurt you?" he pressed.

"I know," Applejack murmured, eyes watering as she prepared herself for rejection.

"Then help me," he said, pleading, and now it was Applejack's turn to wear a look of surprise.

"What do you mean?" she asked, hating her voice for sounding so weak and childish. "Help you how?"

"Tell me what to do," he begged, pulling back and looking Applejack in the eyes. "Tell me what I can say to make things better, because I've never done anything like this before." He bowed his head, accidentally brushing her collarbone with his lips and causing her to shiver. "The only thing I know how to do in life is stand by my friends," he said, releasing the blonde from his embrace and kneeling so that she looked down at him. "So," he said, his voice shaking in nervous anticipation, before he managed to steel it, "if you still want me, then...yes, but you'll have to keep teaching me a little bit longer."

Applejack was speechless. She worked her jaw, closed it when she realized words weren't coming out, and swallowed the lump in her throat.

"On one condition," he added, and Applejack looked down at him, sniffling. Spike's hand reached down and plucked Applejack's stetson out of her lap and plopped it down on his own head. "No hats," he stated, smiling as his hands rested on her thighs.

The farmer let out a choked laugh, hugging her partner's head to her chest and shaking with relief. "No hats," she promised, her voice tremulous.

The two lay that way for a while as they waited for Applejack's rapid heartbeats to calm, and Spike felt the pumping in his companion's chest slow to match his own. Heat rose to his face as the farmer sighed, her chest sagging and bringing Spike's face down with it.

"Applejack?"

The blonde looked down, twitching as she felt the green-haired youth angle his head up at her, his chin gliding between her cleavage.

"Yeah?"

"Can...can I kiss you?"

She blinked slowly, sitting up and watching as Spike followed the motion of her body. "You know," she said, her voice ardent and nervous, "you wear that well," gesturing to the hat on his head.

He bowed his head, his face flushing. It was obvious, though, that he was still waiting for an answer to his request.

"Clean the fish," she whispered into his ear, "and then we'll see."

She pulled away, relishing the look in her companion's eyes as she did so.

As night fell, the two companions—Spike wasn't exactly sure what they were now, actually—returned to the campsite. They had been hard-pressed to find dry wood under the cover of dark, but eventually they managed to build enough of a stockpile to create a fire to wash the cold from their bones.

The two sat close to each other, but far enough that they could see the other's face when looking up. Applejack had donned an orange flannel shirt to keep her shoulders warm, but left the front unbuttoned, an act which Spike deeply appreciated.

She had barely taken her eyes off of him.

They had finished dinner but a short while ago. Applejack remained turned towards the fire, but her piercing green eyes rarely strayed from Spike's body. Every now and then, they would rise and accost Spike himself, but they mostly seemed content to roam over the young man's chest and forearms. Spike wasn't sure if the woman had noticed, but Applejack's nostrils would flare whenever her eyes strayed to his collarbone; her toes would clench and her breathing would hitch whenever she saw his torso flex.

"Applejack?"

The farmer's eyes contracted, softening as they reached her partner's face. "Yeah?"

"Uh," Spike mumbled, and it was difficult to tell if he was blushing or if it was just the fire reflected on his face. "Should we do something...?" He shrugged, grinning nervously. "It's just, you're staring at me really intensely right now, and it's making me kind of nervous."

Applejack laughed anxiously, looking away in mild guilt. "Sorry 'bout that," she apologized, rubbing her arm.

"Say, uh..." he started, only for his voice to waver and halt.

"What is it?"

The green-haired youth ground the tip of his shoe into the dirt, arms crossed as he looked away from the farmer. "Why me?" he asked, voice soft and unsure.

The farmer looked at him, half-smiling. "I don't really know," she confessed, and judging by his face, it was clear that this answer wasn't what he had wanted. "You ain't changed much since we met, and I didn't jus' up 'n wake up one day and think you were gorgeous, neither." She shrugged, looking into the fire. "One day, I jus' thought that you were getting to be a man, and seein' as how you are who you are," she said, gesturing to him vaguely, "I started figurin' you'd start wantin' someone to be with. And o' course, you being you," she laughed uneasily, "I thought you'd have an easy time of it, gettin' any girl in town. Course, one day I figured 'any girl in town' included me." She looked at Spike, chest heaving, but he only gazed softly at her, waiting for her to continue. So she did.

"I didn't think much of it at first, you an' me. Figured you wouldn't be into someone my age, and if you were it'd be someone like Rarity." She shrugged tiredly. "But it was nice to think about, from time to time."

"And then what?" Spike asked, intrigued. He pulled his legs to his chest as he settled in for a story: as far as he was concerned, Applejack's thought process was as fascinating a fireside tale as any.

The farmer bent over, hugging her chest. "Then...I got to thinking about it more, and more. I'd think about you an' me, together. Not even the frou-frou romance junk you'd catch from Rarity, jus' the simple, every day stuff. Jus' being together, see?" She smiled as if thinking of a fond memory. "Like, layin' down in a field together after a long day, or me playing with your hair the way you like. And I got to thinkin' about it an awful lot, 'cause sometimes you need a good idea to chew on t' get you through the day, and I liked that one cause it never got stale."

She looked at him, eyes tight with guilt, but his gaze was soft and inquisitive, so much so that the farmer felt compelled to continue.

"Wasn't long after that that I couldn't go long without thinkin' of you," she confessed, meshing her fingers together and looking into the flames. "I started goin' into town hopin' I'd catch you out on an errand, cause the you in my head never really measured up to the you I could lay hands on."

Spike blinked, feeling a rush of blood heat his face. He stared at her, mouth slightly ajar as he processed this new, flattering information.

"What else?" he asked, curious.

Applejack looked at him, twiddling her thumbs and looking guilty in general.

"I dreamed about you a few times."

Both Spike's ego and affection for Applejack skyrocketed with that revelation, and he decided then that Applejack had earned that kiss.

"What kinds of dreams?" he asked lowly, sliding off of his seat and rolling to his feet.

Applejack studied him, a nervous, hunted look on her face. "A bunch o' kinds," she answered cautiously.

He sat down next to her, leering mischievously at his partner. "Were any of them...graphic?"

The farmer appeared shy and abashed, something Spike was far from used to seeing on her face. She seemed half-likely to bound away from him, so tense was the nervous energy in her body.

"Some of 'em," she admitted, breathing heavily. She seemed to steel herself as she processed her partner's interest.

Turning, the farmer scooted closer to the young man, draping her naked legs over his lap and slipping her arms around his shoulders. She buried her nose in his neck, inhaling deeply and tracking the line of his collarbone with her lips as the stress slowly melted from her body. Spike shuddered, hugging the girl closer to him.

"I wrote 'em down," she said, "the really good ones, I wrote 'em down so I could think about them later."

"Yeah?"

"I can show you, once we get back in town," she offered, breathing warm, sweet air onto Spike's neck.

He chuckled excitedly, and Applejack savored the deep rumbling motions that shook from his chest into hers. She felt his hand part the hair over her cheek, and he whispered into her ear, "Only if we get to reenact them." Applejack shivered, nodding vigorously in agreement.

"Y'know," Applejack said lowly, speaking directly into her partner's nape, "we're th' only people out here. No one else for miles around." She rubbed Spike's back and pecked gently at his jaw. She rotated so that her abundant chest pressed into Spike's. "If you've got a mind to capitalize on that, well, I don't think I can stop a big, strong man like yerself."

Spike's heartbeat picked up. "I thought you said you weren't going to take advantage of me," he said slyly. His hand gripped her well-toned thigh, caressing it with mild feverishness.

He could feel her smirk into his neck. "But you never said anything about not takin' advantage of me."

Spike laughed inwardly, his voice low and having the slightest gravel to it. "No, I guess I didn't." He gently bumped Applejack's head with his own, prompting her to raise her gaze to meet his. Without hesitation he pressed his face to hers, relishing the smell of smoke from her breath, and the warm, subtle heat of her pinched skin. His unexplored mouth closed ranks with hers, their lips stroking against one another's before clasping themselves together.

The kiss was brief but exploratory. Applejack groaned, a sound of pleasured suffering and willful compliance as she jerked back. Recovering, she allowed Spike to press his lips once more to hers, yielding access to the warm, moist confines of her mouth. Again and again their lips collided, their respective holds on each other's body tightening and growing more passionate with each passing second.

Feeling brave, Spike broke their kiss, swinging Applejack around so that she straddled his waist. The bonfire cast her body in warm tones, bringing to light the farmer's long, messy hair and bruised red lips, mouth parted slightly. Her freckles appeared dark and enticing, her eyes bright and wondering, curious of what her partner would do next.

Shuddering but confident in Applejack's trust in him, the young man placed one hand on his lover's waist, allowing it to roam over her compact and tightly muscled stomach. He palmed her six pack, and his eyes widened, reveling in the thrumming power of the older woman's body. Another hand traced the line of Applejack's spine, rubbing the small of her back as she shivered in appreciation.

A bold hand completed its path up Applejack's chest, yanking her bikini top to the side to reveal one tawny, freckled breast. He gasped at the sight as he groped her chest, awed by both her beauty and the simple fact of her nudity. The blonde cried hoarsely at the contact, arching into her lover's touch.

"Oh, wow," he whispered, rolling the ball of flesh in his shaking hands. Applejack was known for striking a cutting figure, but Spike had had no idea that the woman could appear so unlawfully feminine.

He pulled her further, taking the tip of her breast into his mouth. Applejack groaned at the warmth of his tongue and ground her hips into his involuntarily.

Spike retracted both of his hands, allowing Applejack to support herself as he leaned backwards. The farmer's body now spanned over his, and while she was slightly bigger and more physically imposing, Spike found her weight on his waist and torso to be comforting.

Applejack deftly reached a finger around to her back, slipping under the shirt and loosening the red strap, throwing the red bikini top to the dirt. Her breasts heaved forth and she sighed at the freedom.

Bold hands slid down past Applejack's swim trunks, pawing at her firm rear and spreading her cheeks. "Shit," she groaned, backing her hips into his hands, trying to coax his fingers inside her.

It was almost too much for her, with Spike tonguing her breast from the front, and grasping her ass so possessively from behind. It was hard for her to not feel adored.

"Wait, wait," she panted, trying with shaking legs to stand up. Her swim trunks, pulled halfway down her legs, were quickly loosened and discarded.

Now naked except for her orange flannel shirt, the apple farmer rose from her seat, her skin glowing with a healthy sheen of sweat.

"What's wrong?" her partner asked, confused and worried that he had under-performed somehow.

"Nothing, sugar," she breathed, catching her breath. She pointed over her shoulder at the tent. "But if we're gonna keep goin', I'd rather be on a flat surface."

"Oh! Okay then, I'll be right th–ERE! HEY!" he screeched: Applejack had grabbed the young man by the waist with one arm and proceeded to walk over to the tent. "Put me down!"

Applejack laughed, her face red with humor. "I'll put you down soon enough," she promised, before reaching up and snatching off the young man's shirt. Spike continued to protest vehemently, until Applejack lowered him just enough so that her lips reached his collarbone.

"What are you–" he started to say, before grinding to a halt upon feeling Applejack's lips on his throat. He shuddered as her lips found purchase in a small tender crevice just under his chin.

"You like that?" the farmer purred, kissing his sensitive flesh and glad that she had found his weak spot. Teasing him thus, she pushed aside the flaps to the tent, settling to the canvassed floor with her partner in tow. Spike's only response was a series of unintelligible groans.

Grinning, Applejack gently placed her lover on the floor, on top of a well-loved comforter. With a slight tug, his shorts fell below his waist, allowing Applejack a view of his dark purple boxers. Smiling deviously at the sight of his manhood, she gave his bulging erection a kiss through the fabric, making sure to leave her lips long enough to make him squirm.

"Look at me," she ordered.

As soon as their eyes met, Applejack took the band of his boxers by her teeth and dragged them south. Her tongue traced the veins of his erection, and as Applejack maintained eye contact while lapping at the engorged penis before her, she reasoned that Twilight's estimation of Spike's girth was fairly accurate.

Making sure he was lathered properly, Applejack shuffled forward, delivering a thick, wet kiss to her partner's stomach while grasping his throbbing erection in one hand. Looking into Spike's eyes all the while, she shifted his cock directly between her breasts and began to pump.

"Ohhh no," Spike groaned, sitting up, sweating. His arms shook as he tried to support his weight.

"What's wrong?" Applejack asked, puzzled as she juggled his cock between her breasts. Going by his quaking voice and unintentional thrusts, the farmer thought that she had been doing a good job.

"I'm close," the green haired teenager explained, grunting.

The farmer scrunched her nose, still grinding at her partner's dick. "Already?"

"Virgin," he reminded her.

Applejack rolled her eyes, though she supposed she couldn't blame the young man for his lack of experience. Seizing his dick in place with her ample breasts, the blonde leant down and wrapped her lips around the tip of his member. Her tongue flicked across his head, curving around around the contours of his manhood and massaging each vein.

She was just getting into it, deepthroating him, when he came. Applejack squirmed: she had just been kissing his balls, her lips grazing his crotch when the first load came shooting at the back of her throat.

"Mmph!" She pulled back, pounding her chest and trying not to cough.

Spike sat up, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat. "Are you okay?"

Applejack nodded, getting on her hands and knees. After a few moments of idle silence, she swallowed the load, coughing once she had finished. She looked at at Spike, and he could see that tears had sprung up from the corners of her eyes with the effort. "A little warning next time?" she asked, her voice groggy.

"Sorry," Spike said, wincing. He moved to put his head between Applejack's legs in interest of returning the favor, only for the blonde to shrug him off.

"We can do that later," she assured him, still catching her breath. Applejack fell onto her back, spreading her legs and grasping her young lover by the wrists. "Y'all said this was your favorite position, didn'tcha?"

Spike nodded, eyes wide as he surveyed Applejack in the dark. He couldn't actually believe it was happening. Applejack—who had seen him growing up, who had been a pillar of authority in his early life, who had saved his skin more times than he could count—was sweating and willingly exposed to him, waiting for him to part her folds and make love to her.

What did I ever do to deserve this? he asked himself as he propped himself over Applejack, gasping as his member brushed her unseemly hot thighs. The mess of her loins was slick and firm, something Spike realized as he pressed against Applejack's lips and felt a substantial resistance.

"It's okay," she whispered, and placed insistent hands on his buttocks, gently pulling him into her.

Spike's eyes bulged as he entered her; whatever he had been expected the inside of a vagina to feel like, this wasn't it.

Applejack was warm—incredibly so—and gripping him with a startling tightness. Her womanhood throbbed against his member, leaking a hot moisture that ran down Spike's thighs and past his knees onto the comforter. She hadn't stopped pulsating since he'd entered her, and as Applejack trembled involuntarily at his proximity, Spike wondered how it was possible to be so deep inside another person.

"Keep going," Applejack said, voice strained. Her fingers clenched down on her partner's rear as she forced him deeper inside her, until she had spread herself as completely as possible on his member. Her muscular legs wrapped around Spike's waist, her freckled breasts speckled with sweat.

Spike lifted his hips, marveling as Applejack's waist followed him. The farmer moaned noisily as he pulled out, something that Spike took great pride in.

"Keep doing that," he murmured, settling on his forearms and kissing Applejack's nearest nipple.

She blinked, eyes half-open. "Doing what?" she asked. She yelped as he pressed back down, forcing himself back into her shivering crotch in one stroke.

"That."

They had worked themselves into a rhythm, Spike pumping slowly but consistently into Applejack's hips, Applejack sighing his name and running her fingers through her lover's hair. A couple of days ago the farmer might have had scruples about making love to the young man given their history, but each time Spike punched her to the core and absolutely speared her on his cock, she became more and more sure that she had made the right choice. What ending capable of being seen as good could possibly end in anything other than this?

They shifted positions a few times: Applejack found that her favorite was when she sat on her hands and knees and allowed Spike to just beat the shit out of her from behind. His nails dug deliciously into each side of her ass, and as he bottomed out into her again Applejack considered looking into getting a ball gag as she screamed an octave higher than usual. She couldn't see Spike's face as he raised an eyebrow.

"Are you close?" he asked, running his hand over her muscled back and grasping her waist.

"Yeah," she panted, her face in the pillows. One of her hands grasped a jostling breast, the other massaging her clit feverishly. She groaned as she felt her climax approaching: she never thought that she'd enjoy bottoming so much, but Spike wasn't afraid to be rough with her, which she both appreciated and needed.

He slammed into her ass, jolting her muscular, freckled cheeks and slapping his balls noisily against her working fingertips, and ideas sprang to life in Applejack's mind as he drove her further to the edge: ropes, handcuffs, leashes and collars if he was willing to trust her; surprising him with her mouth on his beautiful cock while their friends were in the next room talking. Hell, maybe for his birthday she'd let him fuck her in the ass, she'd been curious about that kind of thing for years anyway.

Following this train of thought, her once-innocent ideas of spending time with him evolved, warping to something more mature and intimate now that they breathed the possibility of fruition: Spike coming to see her after her work day had finished, kissing her neck, taking her to the barn and ripping her sweat-drenched jeans off before rutting her brutally in full view of all who would watch; Spike throwing pebbles at her window in the darkness of midnight, waiting impatiently but lovingly for his girlfriend—Applejack's heartbeat raced so fast she thought it had stopped—to let down the rope, before climbing up, kissing her hello and making love to her womanhood while she forced herself to remain silent so her siblings wouldn't hear; Spike walking unashamed into a room with her on his arm, his hand playing with her long golden hair, the two of them being simply at peace together; Spike at the family reunion, meeting her loved ones, baking with her aunts and great aunts, arm wrestling the other young men, reading his comic books and minding the toddlers with Apple Bloom and Babs, toddlers with Spike—

She shivered as she recalled her surroundings, as if she was coming down from a dream-fueled high, and Applejack had to suspend her hopes for the future, intoxicating and dangerous though they were. Her fingers pinched down on her clit, spiking her with pleasure, and another hard thrust pushed the girl's face into her pillow completely. The simple act of unintentional derision was enough to send her over the edge, and as Applejack's last thoughts of her possible future bled from her mind, she wondered how Spike would think of her if she offered to swallow his cum one more time.

Applejack knew it went against his nature to be disrespectful to any woman, but she couldn't help but think of how wonderful their lovemaking would be if he wasn't afraid to shame her every now and then: she thought of him slapping her face, of pulling her roughly by the hair, of him forcing himself into her when her back was turned, and marking her insides as his with his wealth of hot semen—

"I wanna fall in love with you," she mumbled unintentionally, then immediately slammed her head into the pillow once she realized what she had confessed.

"Come again?" Spike asked, sweating. He hadn't caught what she had said, thank God, though that hadn't kept him from thrusting.

"Nothing, I ain't said nothing," Applejack lied, and she fell prone on the ground, face burning in embarrassment.

Spike shrugged, leaning back down and savoring the view of Applejack's firm, freckled rear as his pace slowed. "Can I say something immature?"

"Like what?" she asked, looking back at him through tired eyes—they'd been going for close to twenty minutes now.

"I really," he grunted, "and I mean really, love your ass!" He punctuated each breath with a hard thrust.

"It's yours," she immediately responded, out of breath and exhilarated.

Spike grinned, his damp green hair hanging in front of his eyes. He was close again, so close that moving was a dangerous proposition. Even so, his lips reached Applejack's ear, and he whispered, "I'm going to cum inside you."

"Oh," Applejack shuddered, and her muscles slackened at the wonderful, wonderful statement. "You really shouldn't," she whispered, her voice begging with its passiveness.

Spike, thankfully, knew enough about women to be sure of her unspoken answer. He turned Applejack over onto her back so that they were facing each other, and reentered her. As he rammed into her, bottoming out that very second to her pained squeals, he kissed her tenderly, full on the lips. Just as her neck stretched to reciprocate, his fingers closed around her throat, pushing her back down to the covers. Her eyes widened, and Spike could've sworn that he felt her squeeze him that much tighter.

"That wasn't a request," he whispered back to her, and her eyes rolling back in her head was all he needed to make her finish.

Applejack's womanhood shook weakly, her body wet and exhausted from the effort of having a young man beat into it so insistently for so long. She clenched unbearably on Spike's member, so much so that he felt sure that Applejack couldn't be wringing him more tightly if she were using her hands.

Her fluids trickled down his hardened cock, warm and distracting, and as she clenched him one too many times, Spike felt the floodgates burst open and he unloaded into Applejack for the second time that long night.

To say his dick flexed would be an understatement; anything that was left over from Applejack's oral treatment earlier shook its way out through his head, almost painfully ejecting itself into her waiting folds.

A lazy smile graced Applejack's face, and as she looked down at him, Spike knew instantly what people meant by the term "afterglow." Applejack radiated contentment and feminine energy, and all the young man could feel at the sight was pride and intrigue.

He got up from her side, working his muscles as he pulled on his shorts again. Applejack frowned, reaching for him to pull him back down, but he simply shushed her, holding her hand and gently kissing it. "I have to put out the fire," he explained, and she nodded at the necessity. While he shuffled outside and Applejack listened to the sound of dirt being kicked onto the hissing flames, she pulled on a nearby pair of running shorts and folded her flannel shirt closed. She knew it was irresponsible and childish, but she wished he could've let the flames die out so she wouldn't have had to spent those few seconds cold and alone.

Those thoughts were forgotten, though, when he reentered, kicking off his shoes and sitting down next to her. He fell to his stomach, one rough hand meeting another as he adjusted his position to meet hers.

Green eyes met green, and as the two gazed comfortably at each other, Applejack smiled kindly, crinkles forming around her eyes.

Spike returned her smile, before leaning forward and kissing her on the nose. "How do you feel?"

She enjoyed watching his lips move, so she had to think that much longer after he had posed his question to come up with an answer. After a moment of consideration, she answered, "At peace." A gentle drizzle started up, pelting the tent with gentle taps and a peaceful background noise to their togetherness.

Spike smiled, feeling some gratitude and self-importance at his part in her tranquility, and as he leaned over her, staring almost lovingly into her eyes, Applejack was reminded of what it felt like to be so young and to feel anything so passionately.

The guilt at her romancing him hadn't exactly vanished, but it had been substituted, replaced in part by a pride and ownership in her newfound lover. She had helped raised him, she'd had a stake in his state as a person, and now? Now she had him, owned him in so complete a way and in such a short amount of time that even Twilight would be hard-pressed to contest her hold over the young man.

And even so...

She felt a pull towards Spike—not the pull to kiss him, though that was strong too—a pull of responsibility and the willingness to serve that she had previously only felt so strongly towards her own family. She knew, and not merely suspected, that Spike now owned her as well, to a degree that both frightened and comforted her.

Applejack found that she didn't really mind that frightening thing, equality, as much as she feared she would. Instead, as she was coaxed to rest on top of his hips, his strong arms caressing her thigh and securing her waist, she found that it was actually, rather deceptively...

...light....

Ping!

The pebble bounced off of the high window, and Applejack reasoned that she was getting better at judging the angle and force required to hit her desired target with each toss.

As she armed herself again in the darkness of midnight, the farmer pulled back an arm, preparing to launch another missile when she found that she didn't have to.

A window opened, and Applejack grinned, only to retract it in embarrassment as she saw a head of ruffled purple hair poke itself out the window.

"Who is that?" Twilight snapped, squinting through her sleep at the perpetrator on the ground. She groaned at her friend, who waved apologetically. "What are you doing? It's nearly morning!" she hissed.

"Sorry! Sorry," Applejack apologized, waving her hands in regret. "I just got the wrong–" she started to say, before seeing a familiar tan-haired head poke itself out the window next to Twilight's.

Applejack turned on her heel and walked away, not bothering to ask or answer any questions.

Twilight shook her head and turned to the man next to her. "Could've gone worse," she said, shrugging.

"Eeyup."

The blonde farmer ignored these comments and walked down to the next window, which was conveniently located next to a fledgling set of growing trees. Putting the sight of Twilight and her brother out of her mind—yuck—she reached into her pockets and launched a pebble at the window, grinning when she hit her target on the first try.

After a time, she heard a distant shuffle of feet, before a light turned on and the window opened. A head of green hair slowly poked its head out of the window, yawning. Applejack chuckled at the sight of her boyfriend in a t-shirt and striped lilac nightcap. She climbed the tree next to his bedroom, glad that it was strong enough to hold her weight.

"Applejack?" her partner yawned, stretching his arms by the windowsill. "What are you doing here so late?"

"I wanted to hear your voice," she answered, grinning and blushing childishly.

Spike smirked, slightly more awake. He leaned on the sill, head in palm as he glanced at her. "You could've just called, you dork." It was obvious, though, that he appreciated the attention she lavished on him. "It's not like we haven't been dating for like a month now."

Applejack shrugged, though the thought drove her wild that they had been together so long; trite sayings notwithstanding, time simply seemed to melt away whenever they were together. She couldn't remember a time she had felt so young, or full of energy. Being around him made her smile more, made her bones ache less under her responsibilities. They didn't even have to leave town: every time they were alone together felt like an escape.

"That, uh...wasn't the only reason I came by," she admitted, rubbing her arm nervously.

Spike blinked, intrigued as he sat up and looked at her. "What do you mean?" It was then that he noticed a dark contraption on Applejack's back, something that had melded with the blackness of night so that he hadn't been able to see it clearly before. His eyes widened. "You didn't–"

Applejack grinned, her partner's surprise killing any fear left in her as she slung the dark amber guitar from around her back and held it in her hands. "This is happenin', partner," she said, grin stretching as the look of shock on Spike's face doubled.

"Appl–what if someone hears you?" he asked, bewildered and shy beyond words as he looked out the window from side to side for any possible onlookers.

"Then let'em hear me," she challenged, crossing her legs as she adjusted herself on the sturdy, wide tree branch. In spite of her lover's disbelieving eyes, Applejack strummed up an easygoing tune on her instrument and began to sing.

Spike's face was soon to change. His gaze turned from red-faced and embarrassed, to open-mouthed, to moved. By the time Applejack was halfway through her song, his gaze was watery and emotional, and the farmer couldn't help but grin into her song at her lover's susceptibility for sappy expressions of adoration.

His eyes followed every movement of her lips, and Applejack decided that that look of wonder was worth betting her brother, worth those days of misery out in the rain, worth Twilight's warnings of retribution if she ever hurt the young man, because the ends more than justified the means. She would do everything in her power to treasure that look of wonder, to protect and love the young man it belonged to, and to honor the faith Twilight had placed in her.

All this, she thought to herself as she serenaded her loving, tender-eyed boyfriend under the dark, blessed horizon.

There's no need to complicate,

Our time is short,

This is our fate,

I'm yours.