For a moment, I feel my eyes open fully in surprise, but then they slip closed as I absolutely lose myself in the sudden and completely unexpected rush. His mouth had been still before when I had kissed him, but now it is alive and I can't help but respond in kind. The hand at the nape of my neck tilts my head back and up, clasping my cheek and trailing a thumb across my fur. He presses my mane to my neck and pulls me towards him as he kisses me, and again I feel a spark of feeling up the back of my spine. I can't help but murmer softly against Anon's mouth in longing for the sensation.

He leans back a little so that our lips part and we again study each other briefly. I can see my questions mirrored in his expression. What's happening? What in the hell is going on? What did I just do? Should I...should we...

Too many questions. Life is fleeting.

I raise my chin and our mouths come together again, more eagerly now, almost desperate. I reach up with my previously useless hoof to touch his chest and cheek. I draw him in with my mouth, my body, my soft moan of delight, and he readily reacts. My lips part and I breathe the same breath as him as he presses his tongue against mine. Lips cross, hands grab, the heat of breathing transfers, and he kisses me like he wants me more than anything else at this exact moment.

His hand moves off of my cheek to rest by my head on the mattress. I open my eyes as our kiss breaks for an instant, and I take in the scene. His body rotates awkwardly at the waist so that his upper half looms over me in the dark. I can see crescent moon curves of skin in green, some rising and falling as his shoulders move to reposition his body. I breathe in a short gasp at the contrast of light and dark, the fluid motion of flesh in the glow. The sheet shifts, and when we again come together. His chest rests down on my own with only a slight weight. But I can feel how warm he is, now damn near hot his skin is to mine. My eyes shut as I'm again overtaken by his smell, his touch, his lips.

As he shifts and our lips slide across each other's, I'm very suddenly aware of how small I am right now compared to him. And how mostly naked he is. Our bodies, unprotected by any of his clothes except his underwear, are so close, touching and moving against each other with each intricacy of the kiss. He's almost on top of me in this bed, and my hoof shakes for an instant on his chest as I realize it. Still, this somehow seems less intimate given our earlier conversation. More...inevitable.

He seems to feel my nervousness and backs off. The cold air that seeps between us feels like ice compared to the warmth there before.

“You ok?” he says, and he sounds out of breath.

I try to say yes, but words don't really come out. I can feel the vibration in my hoof moving to my shoulders. Nerves, the cold, I don't know what this is. Adrenaline even. But I feel awkward suddenly, unsure, like I've never felt with a one-night-fling stallion. Under all that, I know I don't want to stop though, that this isn't a bad thing. I want this. I really really want this. I nod up at him that yes, I'm fine. He looks a little skeptical, and I nod again. A smile doesn't feel right, so I don't offer it, but I know there's a pleading in my eyes that I hope he can see.

Now he nods back and allows me to pull his head and body back down on me. With more weight this time. As he kisses me, I kiss up hard against him now, surprising him a little. I feel the air suck back out of my mouth as he gasps at my unexpected advance. He responds by leaning down farther, kissing me deeper, exploring more of my lips and tongue. His chest presses against me and I feel the sheet by my head tighten as he tenses his hand in a grip with the intensity of all this.

With one hoof I find the small of his back next to me and gently tug at his body. Almost instinctually he moves over so that I'm under him, partially pinned under his form. My body rises to meet him then eases him back down to the bed with me underneath, my legs apart. His free hand also finds the small of my back, gripping it with desire and intent, pulling me up into him. The heat of our bodies join as we touch, feeling almost painful.

Those underwear of his are an afterthought now, not really restraining anything. As he uses my lower back to hold me up against him, I feel how hard he is for me through the undergarment. It's terrifying and enticing at the same time, not at all like a stallion, and I allow him to push his body against me. I even push back, liking how that hardness feels against my inner thigh. As my tongue crosses his lower lip, I utter a soft moan against his mouth. I feel him press harder against me in response.

His underwear is slipping down slightly. He'll be naked soon, I realize. I've never seen a naked human before, or been around one who was naked, especially considering he's the only one here. But he's about to be, and it scares me. That he'll look at me, and I'll look back, and we'll see all of each other. Unprotected. I try to think only about what happens after that, because the very thought that I'll be against him, naked, is enough to draw another unexpected moan out of me, and staves off a little of the fear.

Anon pulls my torso towards his naked chest. My hooves find his bare skin as he hugs me against him. I again feel so small and exposed, and while I want to reach up and cover myself and just...hide from him, I instead put both hooves against where his shoulder meets his chest. I try to keep my limbs from trembling as I hold onto him for dear life. He holds me back and drinks me in with another deep kiss.

One hand runs up the length of my back and over the curves of my ribs, letting the fingers trail like cloth over my skin. He caresses the side of my lower stomach, eagerly but patient. My form twitches as his fingertips brush over the sensitive curve where my belly meets my inner leg. I break the kiss as I half moan half whimper in surprise at his boldness. He runs his hand back up the way it came, and I tuck my chin downward and bite my lip with the swirling pleasure of pain and ecstasy that comes with it. I can feel him sigh out a soft sound of his own as he brushes his fingers over my increasingly warm fur.

I want him so much at that moment. The sound of his wordless voice hangs in the air close to my lips. I can taste his desire for me, and I want to indulge it.

I writhe under him as he again pushes his hips down against me like he's trying to hold me still under him. I obey just a little, but push back against him to urge him on. Now his voice is a little louder when he makes a sound. I love that sound, that I'm causing it. It's not one really of joy or happiness, just raw response to the pleasure I'm causing him, and I want to give him more.

He holds himself back away from me suddenly, his hand still palm down next to my head. I look up at him, almost panting, and he stares back. I feel the tension and strength from his arm thrust down beside me, and I turn my head to lean my cheek against it as I continue to look up at him. I'm very aware now that I'm shaking all over, and now I know part of it is with anticipation from what's to come as well as nerves. It won't be long now.

His tongue flashes over his lips as he wets them. His mouth works silently for a moment as he tries to find the right words.

“D...do you...?”

I blink at him, my face solemn. I remove my hooves from his shoulders and chest and carefully pull his undergarment down off his waist. I arch my back up into him as I tug them onto his thighs, then adjust around him as I pull them down past his knees. He instantly knows what I'm up to and I allow him to pull them the rest of the way. He lets them drop heavily onto the mattress beside me.

I can barely breathe. I want to close my eyes in fear, maybe hide myself or even just start to cry with how much weird stuff I'm feeling. I'm driven. I can't suppress the absolute ache between my legs for him. To please him. To feel him inside me. It's insatiable and a hunger that pounds through my blood like I'm in heat. I can't quite look him in the eyes, too embarrassed and unsettled, but I suck in a long slow breath as I hear him fumble for a response to our present, naked situation. I just want to hear him speak. Please. Say anything.

“I want you.”

I barely know if it's my voice or his that sounds in the darkness, but I can feel my mouth move as the whisper echoes between us. And I do. I want him.

The next moments are so fast. His body descends on me like nightfall, I feel his skin and mouth on my lips, cheek, neck, chest. I yelp softly into the empty room as I feel his mouth over my neck and shoulders. My body fidgets and squirms under more of his weight, touch, and kiss, and my breathing often comes out in sounds of pain, pleasure, and wanting. We push and pull each other, all movements of silhouette and softened shapes in the night. We contrast. We blend. Our bodies find each other and speak in motions. My mane feels a tug, my teeth graze the skin of his shoulder as I whisper his name into the air over and over as a plea and a prayer.

And then he pushes into me in one continuous motion and I cry out from the intensity. We both go still, breathing hard as we feel our bodies at last connected. My legs shake against the outside of his hips as I feel his warmth inside me, and I put my head back against the pillow while we catch our breaths. He's inside me, I think over and over. It's almost a surprise to both of us, I think, and we're still briefly, almost in shock and unsure what to do other than just savor the feeling of him penetrating me.

Then, slowly, we begin to move.

It's without any real rhythm at first, just a slow give and take between our bodies. He pushes into me and I rise my hips to meet him and force him deeper inside me. I breathe in long sighs and quick gasps and above me I hear his breaths quivering. He puts his hand around the back of my waist to get a better angle and again plunges into me in a long steady stroke. I let loose a whimpering moan from how warm he feels inside me, how deep he is, and I tense around his member as he pulls back.

My muscles flex and twitch as my legs wind across his lower back to hold him inside me. My head tips back, my eyes shut, and I sigh out a groan towards the headboard. I can feel how hard he is inside me, purposeful his motions are, and I can hear his breathing trying to find the happy medium between a rhythm and complete chaos. He tugs at my back and hips as he brings us together again and again, forcing his member in to the hilt and sending my back arching up as I whimper with the slight but welcome pain of it.

There's no real release yet, but a relief is quickly flooding through me. After wanting him there, after wanting to feel him gripping me and penetrating me, the sensation of it now is intoxicating. It's the first bite of a cake after smelling it cooking for so long, a sip of ice cold beer after a long day's work. It's getting something I've been patient for, at least somewhat patient, exactly the way I wanted it.

He's beginning to form a bit of a slow even pace now as his thrusts find more confidence. With each one, I roll my hips against him, moving both against and with his motion. My body grips him, tries to keep him inside every time he starts to withdraw. He pulses as I do, just a subconscious response to my own body's effortless beckonings. His breathing falls in time with his thrusts, occasionally coming out with small sounds when I roll my body with his just right. He forces himself deep in me each time, finding parts of me I never guessed he'd know, bringing forth small yelps or cries of surprise and yearning.

My hooves, which I've dropped down to either side of my head, paw at the sheet till I'm afraid I may cut them open. I bite my lower lip to try to drown out my own sounds of pleasure and ache. I press my cheek to the pillow, wanting to bite it rather than my lip so I won't eventually make it bleed from the effort. My eyes are shut, and behind them I see sharp streaks of color and light whenever he again shoves inside all the way, like an aurora. It makes the sensation all the more intense without anything to distract me. There's just sounds, color, his skin against my inner thighs, his heat throbbing inside my body, and the continuous motion slowly building into a steady beat between my legs.

With one thrust he pushes almost too deep and a streak of white pain crosses my vision. I cry out loudly, unable to bite my lip hard enough, and my hooves fly up to his chest. I find the skin hot, wet with exertion, and I feel the blood pounding furiously underneath. He slows a beat at my cry, but doesn't quite stop. He leaves the thrusts shallower, a little slower, and he groans through teeth and lips at my abrupt touch. With each next movement, building in force and depth, my forelegs tense on him. One finds a spot near the collarbone and the other slides down to his hip, almost trying to feel the repetitive rhythm he's picking up with my hoof. Both my hooves shake, the one on his hip pulling slightly, urging him in and out, over and over.

We're breathing loudly now, and I can hear my heart pounding inside my chest, head, thighs. I feel it beat with every individual onslaught and retreat, and it's hard for my breaths to keep up.

My eyes flicker open slightly and I look up from my place between him and the mattress. It's picturesque there in the dark as my eyes adjust to the low lighting. His shoulders rise and fall, his muscles constrict and contract, all a writhing ripple of green and white slicing through the darkness. I can see his thrusts, one after the other, relentlessly sending bolts of sensation running through my entire self, and my mind falls away, just a moment, to remember him like this. To remember this moment of being under and around him in the glow of our heat and the outside light of the dwindling party. Then another powerful jolt hits me and I'm jerked back into myself with a wilting cry of desire.

It's a drumbeat now, his motions into me, and he keeps ringing out each one deep and hard, making the sensation last. The echoes of the pleasure reverberate in my mind and body. I hear him moan out my name once in a broken voice and know he's hearing the echoes too. I know he's enjoying me, using my body to please himself, using his body to pleasure me. I know he's throbbing and aching to empty himself inside me, and feeling me asking for it with each roll of my hips. It's a desperate want from both of us, almost a need, and the inertia of it drives us ever onward.

I keep time with his thrusts, telling him with my body that I'm enjoying this and want more. Occasionally I shiver under him and moan, my voice becoming a higher and higher timbre with each passing plunge. He's so hard in me that even my twitches and tightenings don't seem to constrict it much. My winking just tugs at him and milks the pleasure out of him in short breaths and slow fractured moans.

My heart is thudding out so loudly that it masks occasional whimpers from me inside my own head. I feel like it's trying to stay one step ahead of Anon's pace in and out of me. My grip on his hip tightens and squeezes to use his body as leverage to pull mine against him harder. I've almost forgotten the one on his chest, but I can feel his skin and hear his hissing groans of pain. I just hope I haven't scratched his chest too deeply with my hoof and that I haven't drawn any blood.

With a sudden thrust he moans and grunts behind closed lips and falls forward somewhat onto me. I'm caught up abruptly in a swirl of his scent and body weight pressing down on my quaking chest. I breathe in the smell of sweat, sex, and effort that hangs in the air around us and let it out in a quick sigh that's jolted by his continued rhythm. My hooves slide to his back, gripping him tightly each time he tweaks something inside of me that sends my spine arching and twisting in surprise.

His breathing next to my ear is quick, heated, and rattling. I hear the sound of each stifled noise, each attempt to not say my name or offer an expletive. In turn I push my face into his collarbone and neck, breathing out his name and my pleasure against the skin. My voice comes all in m's, n's, and h's now as it finds its way through gritted teeth and set lips, occasionally allowing a vowel to slip out as he throbs or pulses inside me.

Again he pushes too deep and I try to hold back the cry that comes with the feeling. Instead I bite down on his shoulder and neck, gently but firmly, and whimper the wordless reaction to his blood and flesh. It's sudden, and I haven't asked him if its ok to bite, so his sharp yelp of surprise isn't that shocking to me. What does shock me is how readily he utters an affirmation dripping with wanting and wonder. I bite down harder, he thrusts deep, and we both emit wavering sounds of delicious agony.

I hold his body as close as I can, and thrust with him to take all of him into my body. I want to feel him buried there, his stomach and hips flush with my inner thighs and both of us writhing with the feeling of being connected through warmth, wet, and want. He gives me every inch, and I take it with only a cry against his chest as complaint.

Against my breast, I feel his heart beating, pounding, and rushing, far faster than mine. Erratically, at a breakneck speed. Amidst the floating sensation overcoming my brain and body, through the endless ache for him rippling up from between my legs, logic manages a foothold.

How long has he been fucking me? My stomach sinks and even as he thrusts deep inside, the intensity has waned some. How long has he been on his knees, working his body to force himself forward and back? He's doing all the work, and he just told me moments ago that his body is weak and susceptible to fainting! I can't ask this much of him. As much as I'm enjoying this, I can't let him hurt himself during this act. Still...I'll be damned if I'm going to let this end just yet.

I place a hoof between him and me on his chest, and push against him firmly. He sits back from my body, his strokes slowing to a near stop. It's a simple request of body language, so slow and intentional, and he senses something has changed. He sits back, still lodged inside me, and looks down questioningly. I feel a tingle of affection for him as I notice the concern in his face, not for himself but for me. He thinks I'm not ok, and it worries him. Now I finally do smile a little, not from the sex, but from some childish flattery I feel at being worried about by someone like this. He's breathing very hard though, and his face is deeply flushed. I sense this was a good decision, and wait as he tries to catch his breath.

“Is...are you...” he says, not sure exactly which question is the right one to ask.

“I'm....fine...” I murmur between breaths. “Are you?”

He nods vigorously with eyes that scream yes, but I still am unsure. His flush and quickened breathing do nothing to comfort me, and I get the feeling he'd say anything right now not to withdraw. But I don't want to harm him. I don't know how bad the anemia is or what it would do to him if he overexerted himself. He could make himself sick maybe, and even a small risk is too much for me to push on like this. But I know what I can do now.

I smile at him, somewhat mischievous and somewhat embarrassed, as I sit up with him still in me and continue to push him back. His body haltingly obeys, but his eyes question me every inch of the way. I feel his member sliding inside me as I reposition and I push my hips forward to do my best to keep him inside. Still, I wince and chew my lower lip to keep from letting him know how intense it feels. He doesn't seen to notice my awkwardness, too wrapped up in what's happing. He's still blinking at me as our dynamic begins to change, with him falling back towards the bed.

“Berry...” he says, half a question, half a protest.

I push his body back, beginning to rise above him, my legs still planted on either side of his hips. He almost slips out of me, the head tugging back and my body fighting to keep him within. I suppress a moan, and instead try to find words of comfort.

“Lay back,” I barely more than whisper, and he responds like it was a strict order.

As his back hits the bed I slip a little on the crumpled sheets and his member comes out of me. I whine, hating how empty I feel now. He starts to sit up, maybe thinking I'm in pain, and sets a hand on my shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says quickly, “do yo-”

I shut him up by planting another kiss on his lips. This time he moans against my mouth and cups my cheek in his palm. He kisses me back deeply as I once again slowly push him back onto the bed with me on top. This time there's absolutely no sign or protest or uncertainty, just mouths, hands, warmth, and wetness. As his head finally meets the mattress, I pull my lips away and bite the place on my lip where his tongue has just touched.

My face draws away from him and I shiver as my body meets the cold air, without his to cover me. His hands slip from my face and neck to my shoulders, forelegs, waist, and then at last hips. I crawl back a little, almost out of the reach of his searching fingertips but not quite, and sit up straight with my legs on either side of his thighs. In the feeble light, I can see him standing erect just in front of my body, light glistening off of the skin that is still so wet with my own passion for him. I glance up at him, blushing with nerves, and I see him regarding me with bewilderment, but maybe a little hope too. Like he's afraid to dare to think that what I'm about to do is real.

I don't blame him for that. This all does seem so surreal, so fast, so effortless. It's like falling through the open air without a parachute to catch you or wings to help you fly. You just close your eyes and fall into darkness and nothing is there to break your landing for you, wherever your landing may be. But I'm here now. He's here. If we're falling through this surreal night, we're doing it together.

I lean forward with my hooves on his chest and raise myself up. His hands grip my waist tightly, and my breaths heave with anticipation again as I position myself. My face is close to his as I raise my lower half, my weight on my hooves, on his upper torso, and find the mark I'm looking for. Then I slowly ease myself down, away from his face and more upright, and embed him again inside me. I cry with the feeling of being penetrated once more, as his pulsing warmth fills me from within and reaches deeper and deeper as I sink. Over my own noise, I can hear him gasping out longingly into the crisp air, and feel his grip on me tighten to hold me down. Till he's all inside and I'm sitting astride him with my shoulders shaking and hoof tips grinding into the flat of his chest. Till he's twitching and aching like I am, waiting for me to begin moving like he knows I will.

I hold my breath, trying to find some sort of internal metronome for myself. Then I feel my legs tense, my stomach tighten as I rise up, stroking his shaft with my body in a slow, gripping way. His hands guide me up, wait as I pause with just his head inside me, then pull me more forcefully back down to envelop him once more. We both shudder, and I allow him to begin guiding my pace with the gentle pressure of his fingers on my sides and hips as I begin to ride him.

I keep my eyes closed and head low as I begin to rise and fall over his body, searching for a comfortable pace. It lets me search through the stabbing feelings of ecstasy to try to find some music or harmony between our bodies. It doesn't come readily, and for a while I let him push and pull me, up and down, to pleasure him at whatever speed he wants. Then, as waves of want and depth begin to come like the tide, I can sense it. The forward and back, up and down. I feel a beat to it, like the drums I felt in him before, and I listen and obey their song.

My body begins to move without the direction of his hands, and he lets me stroke him at my own pace now, pulling away so far that he's almost out, then dropping back down with him fully engulfed. I feel him relax under me little by little as he lets me do the work, and I grind my hips as I hit the bottom of my motions to send his head back in an unexpecting groan. He doesn't have to be the one exerting himself now, he can just lie back and enjoy me without having to worry at all. The notion of that satisfies far more than my aching body.

I am beginning to feel a tightness in me now, a taut little twinge coursing up my inner thighs to find an intersecting point. He must feel it too, for a hear a catch in his throat as he breathes. His hips rise and fall into me to match my descents as he keeps time with me. I am beginning to clamp down around his shaft, and his width feels all the more solid and foreign inside me, and all the better. Our limited friction slides against intimate parts of me and I shudder each time he bucks upwards against my rhythm. He's barely suppressing tortured moans now, and I'm not even holding back. I have lost track of my own calls and cries, and have abandoned my voice to the chill air around us.

The steady sound of our bodies' impact against each other picks up into a swifter pace. I hit a posting-trot and hold it, bringing my hips forward and up, then back and down in a quick rocking motion. He grips my waist again so he can thrust up into me from below. I can scarcely feel my own hooves on his chest, and I know that I must be pressing down on him very hard, maybe bruising or drawing blood. He is now venturing so deep into me that it hurts every time, and the shock of pain raging up through my stomach and chest is so sweet that I gasp in each new breath.

My head, which has been hanging forward with my mane around my face, bursts back with the force of a perfectly timed thrust. My face tips back, my mane floating up and over my neck like I am breaking through the surface of the water. I breath in the first breath of air, like I have been holding it in, and even I am aware through my stupor that the sound of it echoes through the room.

He's throbbing in me now, the tension winding up and building, and I sense inevitability in our motions. Within me too I have felt the inertia-given twinge that tells me I can't take much more. Like an ocean, the pleasure rolls, the tide creeping up on me, every time a little closer to my shore. Completely unstoppable. His breathing has quickened too, openmouthed, as I ride him hard and deep. I sit back with him buried in me, my hooves moving to find his hands where they hold onto me. And I make sure each plunge brings him entirely inside me, so that I can feel him pulsing all the way to the back. His rasping breath becomes almost a series of begging sighs.

Almost far away, I can hear a whisper and plea in his voice as he tries to warn me. I want to answer, to tell him to go ahead, to urge him on, but my voice is lost in whimpers and moans, so I tell him with my body. I hold him in, push my hips forward and back as well as up and down, spurring on his finishing bucks. I can feel my wetness dripping cold down my inner thighs to his body, and know well that I am not too far off either. My body is tingling, thrusting, aching to have him empty himself into me, to feel the rush of his pleasure that I have so well earned.

The tension builds, pulls overly tight and ready to bounce back. I feel the thud of my heart mingled with the thudding expectation inside me, and I moan his name to the darkness over and over as I approach the end. The sound sends a shiver through him and I feel his back arch up into me, his head thrown against the bed and mouth open. I squeeze him inside me and I feel the spreading, pulsing warmth as his last thrust begins to fill me.

He's cumming inside me, I tell myself. I've made him do this. I've wanted it, wanted to feel overflowing with his craving for me, and the feeling is now overpowering. Bits of color struck in lightening bolts course through my shoulders, hips, and legs as I throw my head back and cry out in surprise and release. I feel the twitch between my legs, the stabbing of an itch finally being scratched, and the brief aftershocks that come with this internal earthquake. Once, twice, and once more, far softer, but each with a wordless exclamation of feeling. It goes on and on, feeling endless and effortless, the moment before you fall over the edge of a cliff. It stops, and I'm left with my mind empty and my body full.

Then I collapse forward against him, spent and woozy, and he catches me as I fall.

I lie shaking against his naked chest, trying desperately to get air to my oxygen-starved systems. My breaths come out in sounds that I scarcely recognize as I feel me still squeezing around him, still embedded firmly inside me. I can feel his weakness too as he winds his arms over me protectively, but without much muscle, and sighs out every breath from an open mouth. Under my ear, through the rushing and impact of my own surging blood, I can hear his heart thudding on at a blinding pace. Somewhere in my pleasure addled brain, I shut my eyes and try to will it to slow down, to calm itself. I know I'm fooling myself as I feel like it does slow at my request, for just half a beat, before returning to it's strenuous rhythm.

My body feels small, far away from me. It feels frail and tiny curled up there atop his body as we both try desperately to remember what breathing is. And my shoulders continue to tremble with the rushing chemicals swirling in my brain and loins, which I know he can feel. He manages to hug me a little closer to his form, and the shaking subsides somewhat, but not enough for me to feel strong again. Now, all I feel is the rush, the daze of being half awake and half dreaming, the dizzy childish want for soft and warmth and comfort. All I want is to be there in his arms breathing in the smell of our passion as I try to remember such basics as my name, location, and form. I want to be wrapped in his touch and voice and just lose myself there for a while, forget everything outside this moment.

I know it can't last, there's a lot of this that can't last. But for a moment, can't I just be this one thing? Can't I, for now, just be his?

We remain connected at our hips, still but flowing together against my insides and legs. I can feel him growing soft inside me and I'm so careful not to move, afraid it might hurt him or me. That fear resounds in part of my chest and brain, and at least one part of me wakes up from the surreal dream. It's the part that worries, unfortunately, but even it is weak now. The floating spell breaks, and I'm back in my body.

I raise my head a little by tipping it back to look up at his face. I see he's staring down at me gently, his chest and lips still heaving with wanting to get air. He's flushed someplaces, pale others, and his eyes are dulled by exhaustion. I blink up at him, and now, for the first time since we started, I see him smile. Genuinely. I see joy, know I caused it, and suddenly feel shy in front of him. Naked, penetrated, and trembling from sex, I feel shy in front of that smile. I know that through the flush of exertion, I must now be blushing.

“Are you ok?” I say, the words forcing out around much-needed breaths. “Are you alright, I mean, is everything ok, do you need...?”

He smiles and shakes his head yes at me, but the worry is still there. Knowing how anemia is, and that he has it is making me so nervous. I really can't help but ask over and over and watch as he nods to assure me that he's doing fine. At last he puts his palm against my cheek and I go silent. I also look away, down at my hoof against his collarbone, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

“Berry...Berry I'm fine,” he says at last, and his voice is soft and even, not even tired.

He just sounds tender and at ease, and the sound puts me more at ease too. I let my face droop down against his chest to hear his breaths and still heavily beating heart.

How did I get here? How did this happen?

Somehow...I don't care. I am here. It happened. I'm glad it did, I wanted it to, and I'm collapsed against his naked body in his embrace right now. There's absolutely nothing bad about this. I tell myself to enjoy it, and a part of me answers that I already have been the entire time. I even allow myself a small, giddy smile. The smile you have when you get something as a gift which you secretly wanted and didn't dare to ask anypony for. He seems to notice it, for a feel the rumble of a brief laugh under my head. He runs a hand up and down my back, like he's feeling to see if I'm still actually there, if I'm still real.

“So...” he says softly, some personality back in his tone.

“So...” I say back.

There's no finish to this statement, but it is something to say.

I feel him slip a little inside me, and with an unwilling whimper I adjust forward. He slides out of me and I feel a drip and rush of our combined fluids trailing after. I stifle a yelp at how overly intense it feels, almost painful, and he grips me in his arms a moment till my body again relaxes.

“S-sorry,” I murmur.

“No worries.”

“Mnh.”

I nestle down against his body, nuzzling at his chest, and breathe out a long low sigh of satisfaction. I got to have this. I got to have him. He squeezes me in his arms then lets me relax against him again. And he got to have me. Broken, together, naked, and used up, we lie against each other, connected now by more than our mutual fate.

“What now?” I find myself asking.

It's a stupid seeming question, but a valid one. What happens now? What do we say, where do we go? I again feel the muted rumble of a laugh under my cheek.

“I have no idea,” he says, and I can tell he's smiling too.

To be honest? I don't really either at this point. We obviously don't tell anypony, we aren't going to be all lovey-dovey around anypony. And while this isn't some stupid one night stand, this obviously isn't something that's going to blossom into a lifelong romance. That would be too...complicated. And lifelong for us isn't exactly the same as lifelong for anyone else, so the title doesn't seem to fit.

He tucks a crooked finger under my chin and raises my face towards him. My mouth is smiling as it finds his, and he kisses me gently, as one who's familiar now in so many ways. Body, mind, existence. It's strange and completely unexpected to really get to know someone in such a whirlwind of activity and words. But it's not necessarily a bad thing. As he breaks the soft kiss, I'm still smiling up at him, but I can almost feel a sadness at the back of my throat. I try to swallow it down, but it sticks a moment longer.

I know how this story goes. I know the ending and it's not a happy one.

Tomorrow we get up and go about our business, and no one is the wiser. We enjoy future parties, we enjoy each other's company, we laugh, we smile. We exchange covert caresses with hands and hooves and shoulders, we cast knowing looks that make us blush and we give swift excuses about the heat. We kiss late at night around the corner from the others when nopony is looking, with hasty breaths and tongues. We tease each other, drop hints, and after everyone has gone to bed, we rest together and talk. We experience intimacy, passion, and awkwardness with each day. And then, all at once, it ends. The main characters in the story die.

We're both going to die, that part's a given. He'll most likely outlive me, I hope anyway, but who knows by how much. But more frightening to me is the very real possibility that he'll suddenly return to earth, and our lives will resume almost as if this had never happened. I suddenly feel like, after this moment, I may never feel his touch, never look into his face, never know the most personal curves of his body. That after this, I will be a memory to him, and my smell will fade from his clothes and skin. And even though our connection is limited to a mostly physical one right now, the knowledge of that possible separation hurts me. It makes his gentle warmth and kiss taste bittersweet on my tongue.

But as I look up, I see him still smiling at me. I see the affection and satiation in his eyes, and feel the tenderness of his hands on my body. I see someone like me, not like me, someone I know entirely and not at all. So I swallow as hard as I can, and the sadness drops to the pit of my stomach, just for now.

Because tonight I'm here with him. Tonight we're both alive, both strong, feeding off of each other's energy and life. We're entwined physically and emotionally, and we're enjoying every second of it without a care for anyone or anything else. Because tonight I can smell him, taste him, feel him, and even time and death can't take that away. And even if it could, the time hasn't come yet. I am with him, and for one night I am his. This moment is ours entirely, as vivid and surreal as any dream. So I lie with him and smile tonight, because it's not tomorrow just yet.

And if tomorrow comes and this really is all a dream? Then maybe...going to sleep won't be so frightening to me anymore.

-*-

Author's Notes:

Happy Valentine's Day everyone.

No matter who you are, no matter what is wrong with you or right with you, no matter what the future holds for you, I hope you know that today people do care about you. And I hope that you soon find or have found a special person who cares just a little bit more than the others. Even more than you care about yourself.

And whatever you do, never NEVER pass up the chance to tell someone you love them. Especially today.
Because life is far too fleeting.

-Pencil