“Go, just get out,” Liam sternly commands. “I don’t know how you managed to fuck this up THIS bad.”

A silence.

“GO!” The new guy flees into the break room, bumping into you and nearly spilling scalding hot coffee everywhere. You get a large splash right on your chest, burning you, but it’s not intolerable.

You stand, coffee stains ruining your new blue work shirt, and give the chubby dude a look. He’s obviously had a day and a half before noon. A chewing out from Liam, even as concise as that, isn’t easy to take. You’d know more than most.

“Sorry, w-I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He fixes his thick glasses and knocks over the creamer, spilling white powder all over the countertop.

“You don’t say?” You grab a big handful of napkins and begin damage control on your shirt.

“I do say.” Jeez, Equestrian must be his fifth language, due to that thick accent. He’s not Unicornian, Germane, anything you’re familiar with. “I, I should just go home.” He smears his glasses in an attempt to clean them. You watch his eyes, attempting to stare the incompetent one down, failing to make eye contact. His brown eyes change color when he takes his glasses off. His pupils change shape as well. You find yourself staring from instinct born of militaristic alertness. They’re like a cat’s, slender and pointed.

The new guy, his name you couldn't be bothered to learn, snaps dumbly and puts his specs back on. “Uh, bye.”

“Don’t trip on your shoe-laces.” He nearly does just that. A clutz making it into Liam’s proverbial power plant platoon was more than a rarity, it just plain didn’t happen. The fifty of your coworkers are predominantly well trained and experienced. And his eyes, that was such a strange image.

You sip your still boiling coffee and take off your shirt. Liam comes and mops up some of the mess with napkins. “I suppose we’re letting any dumb mother fuckers into the plant nowadays.”

“Must be,” you say, wishing you brought another shirt today. It’s near the last thing on your mind however. You glance at the clock, dreading every minute.

“Clean up and shape up, Slavik,” Liam says as he tosses his brown napkins away. “You’ve got to do Dom’s calibrations and get number four spinning again. If that turbine doesn’t get rolling soon, there will be too much force on the others, an-”

“And we’ll have to bleed water through a dumb drain.” You shake your shirt and slip it back on. “I can still take off at sixteen-hundred, right?”

Liam cracks a smile, knowing the hydroelectric plant has one competent worker. “If you can get everything running and calibrated smoothly, you can take off when you’re done. I can keep things going well if no other engineers shove sticks up their asses.”

“Uh, right.” You toss your cup away, not in the mood for hot brown water anymore.

“Hush up, Slavik, it’s an expression.” Liam slaps your back and grabs a donut, then sets it down.

“Watching your girlish figure, devushka?”

“Zatknis’, Scheißkopf. I’m not single like you, I have to watch my gut.” Liam laughs with you and slaps his stomach, not much flab at all there. He’s not quite the strapping young lad he was as a sailor, but he’s fit enough. You know you’re stronger and faster, definitely more creative.

“I see you’ve not forgotten all your Unicornian, at least the curses. What about the Germane? Where’d you pick that up?”

“Around,” he says flatly, eyeing a bear claw that lies in the communal box. He grabs a cheese stick from the fridge and looks out at the plant, the torrents of water muffled behind massive walls of concrete. “I have a new favorite bar, they’ve got Germane beer and dishes. We should go sometime.”

“I’ll bring my new girlfriend,” you say, enjoying a break to ‘shoot the shit’, as Vinyl said once.

Liam chomps away, ignoring the proper operation of string cheese. “No way, huh? Finally acquired a taste for Equestrian, huh? Or is she a foreign girl?”

“I forget. Where’s Manehatten?”

“City girl!” Liam smiles and leans back in his seat. “Manehatten is on the east coast of Equestria.” Liam’s always been kind with sharing common knowledge, unlike the band or any internet forum.

“Yeah,” you continue. “She’s new to Ponyville. Octavia’s her name. She’s in the band.”

“In? Your band?”

“Yes.”

“Not the one with the piercing and the THC molecule on her back, right?”

“No. Oh, no, God no. No, Octavia is the bassist, writes a lot of stuff too.”

“She the foundation of the band?” Liam says with a chuckle.

“I, suppose. You know we’re playing tonight, right? I know you’re old and don’t like any music over fifty decibels, but you could at least buy our CD.”

Liam shakes his head. “I could, but I’m old. I don’t know how to work that compact disk crap. I’ll buy it when you’ve got a vinyl I could use.”

“A CD player is a LOT less complex than a nuclear reactor, asshole.”

“So is your mother.” Liam crumples up his wrapper and tosses it at the trash bin, missing. “Damn wind.”

“Careful, you might break it.” You feel suddenly bored of your old friend.

“Huh?”

“The wind? You know, farting.”

“You’ve got a knack for humor, you know that?” Liam gets up and stretches some.

“I thought it was rather bad, actually.”

“That was sarcasm, Slavik. Don’t you have some calibrations to do?”

You heft the last bass drum in place, and find yourself in a storeroom with two other roadies. A band from Baltimare has a lot of grungy, beat up equipment, hardly worse than your set.

“Fuck,” you say to no one, wiping your brow. Your work shirt is still coffee stained and now sweaty. You step over some crap and ignore the two guys getting friendly on stuff that isn’t yours. You walk out into the dim hall and turn right. You run into Octavia, chest first. She catches herself and moves to you, apologizing almost as quickly as you.

“I wasn’t watching, sorry Octavia!” You grab her arm on a whim and stand with her.

“It’s alright, Slavik.” She makes you smile every time she says it. “It was one of those slo-mo, watch-it-happen-but-can’t-stop-it type of things.”

“Weird, those are weird, yeah.” Your mind is racing again with your plans. You have to ask.

“You look like you had a fun day at work,” Octavia says, standing very close.

You look down and remember your coffee explosion. “Oh, yeah. This new guy at the hydro plant fucked up pretty bad. Made my whole day busy cleaning up his mess. He single-handedly disabled two turbines, we need an extremely expensive part for both. I, I don’t want to bore you. I’m kind of tired, too.”

“I bet,” Octavia chuckles and drags a finger along your sternum, making a slalom with your shirt buttons. “We still have to play at midnight, you know.”

“I know.” You grab her hand when she’s done doing the little race back to your collar. “Are we still on after?”

“As long as you got the, protection.” Her blush is too cute. A busy woman power walks by, near invisible to you.

“I think we’ll be fine.” Her expression is less than expected.

“You DID get it, though-”

“Yeah, yeah! Oh, I see how you... yes, I have condoms.”

Octavia snickers and grins wide, but doesn’t look away. She plays with your fingers for a second.

“So how did Vinyl react?”

Octavia slinks one half step closer. “Well, she, um...”

“Slavik?” You beam.

“Does she know about, us?”

Octavia looks away. “It just, hasn’t come up.”

You slip a hand to her hip. “Octavia, if you and me are... a thing, and you and Vinyl are a thing, something’s gotta give.”

“I know, Slavik,” Octavia says in a slow sigh, resting her head on your shoulder. She looks up, after looking around the seemingly deserted hallway. “I was thinking, I like you, and I really want to spend the night at your place again. But, if we can, can we keep this secret?”

Octavia squeezes her hand in yours, you squeeze back a little more. “I’m not just a one night stand, am I?”

A hurt look comes over Octavia’s face. “Of course not! Slavik, you really are something.”

“I know, and you’re amazing too, Octavia. I just wanted to tell you that even though you have a good thing going with your girlfriend, I’m glad we’re going to do this.”

“Let’s focus on selling albums until then, alright? We have all night, Slavik.” Octavia presses her body to yours, wrapping her arms around you. “All night.” She smiles and looks up into your face.

“All night to take our time, see how many times we can do it before passing out for the entire day.”

Octavia blushes and sinks into you again. You hold her closer and slide your hands down her back to her tight little ass. It’s rounder than her girlfriend’s, just a touch. You squeeze her cheeks and lock lips quickly. You taste her sweet, sweet lips again, sending you in a tiny trip of ecstasy.

You let her go, knowing your lusts will be properly indulged soon enough. Octavia moans softly as you break the kiss. A tiny bridge of saliva links your and her lips for a small moment, then falls. Octavia’s cheeks are scarlet, and her shoulders are anxious.

“Been awhile, hasn’t it?”

Octavia smiles meekly and nods. “Scratch has been touring and whoring her name out a lot. She sent home her whole advance though. More money than if we sell every fucking cd tonight.” Octavia’s face shows how dejected and jealous, yet proud she is.

“The band will survive, Tavi. As for the performance, we’ll kill it, we always do. I just hope I can survive ‘Manchmal’ without Medley’s tits falling off. I mean, out.”

“She said she’d be careful!” Octavia scoffs, remembering the “wardrobe malfunction” two sets ago.

“Yes, but we should taste her drinks and make sure she’s not getting drunk beforehand. Honestly, Octavia, you should do vocals. Sleigher has the bass player do vocals.”

“But he doesn’t have to keep the band going through fifty two chord changes and seven time changes.”

“Good point...” you lean back against the wall and rest your eyes.

“Slavik,” Octavia barely whispers in your ear, eliciting a physical response from you.

“Yeah?” you answer, not opening your tired eyes.

“Want to make out for a bit?”

“As long as we get to nap, I’m under for anything.”

Octavia chuckles and kisses your earlobe, sucking it playfully. “It’s down, not under, sexy.”

You grab Octavia’s nice butt and pull her to you, making her giggle even more. “I’ll go down on you if you don’t stop correcting me all the damn time!”

“Oh, please do!” Octavia laughs as you pin her to the wall, still not a soul around. She smiles wide up at you, holding her shoulders to the wood paneling.

“Where could we go to get a quick nap, Tavi?”

“One of these storerooms, maybe? I’ve got my soccer mom van, too. Just got out of the shop.”

“Oh yeah, you have that van. How convenient.”

Octavia rolls her eyes as you force her to stay still. “You’re telling me. Stop that, come on. The back seats aren’t in there, so we have plenty of room.”

“Oh, baby.” Octavia rushes forward to meet you as you let her go. You give her all your sleepy passion in one embracing kiss. Your hands roam as much as hers. Octavia lifts her leg high, wrapping her foot around your leg. You send your fingers between her upper thighs from behind, feeling yourself stiffen as she warms your fingertips. Octavia moans as you push your tongue into her mouth.

Making it to the van while concealing a raging russian is tough. You nearly dive in when Octavia unlocks the door. You lay back on the grey floor of the unsexy mini van and begin immediately lifting Octavia’s cute little sweater vest. Octavia giggles as you touch her bare skin as she straddles you, letting you take her breasts in your hands again. She squeezes with you, her hands on yours, tossing her hair out of her face. She smiles wide and moves a little as you caress her breasts. Octavia winks seductively and lowers the straps, showing you her nude torso.

“Ah, I remember these fondly.” You reach up to grab them again, ignoring the bra landing on your face.

“Heh, nice word choice there, Slav.” Octavia lets you squeeze her nice, soft breasts a little longer. Her dark nipples are sensitive, you’ve recently learned, and she loves when you pinch them. Especially hard. Octavia holds her hair up above her head, then shakes it around. You feel a bit of spit pool in your mouth at the sight.

Octavia leans down, her face a peachy pink. She puts her fingers on your collar and begin working on your shirt. “I admit, Slavik. I love your natural, musk, or whatever it is.” Octavia smiles and runs her fingers along your stubble. “When I’m with you, you make me so, you make my chest feel... Slavik, you make me want you so bad.”

You pull her face down and give her the cue to shut up, just a bit of tongue. Octavia moans softly and leans her whole body on you. You barely have time to suck on her tongue before she gets up.

“Sorry. Buttons,” she manages to communicate. You help her take your shirt off. Octavia falls on you again, smiling and giggling with you as she runs her fingers over your chest. She kisses your neck and settles into your chest, sighing every now and then, stroking your side.

“Am I a half decent pillow? Because you make for one amazing blanket.” You feel sleep tugging at your eyes already.

Octavia nuzzles closer, nodding, rubbing her face into your slightly hairy chest. You wrap your arms tight around her and entwine your legs, her soft dress pants so good to slide against. “Don’t you want to fool around some, Slav?”

“I’m tired, hon. Maybe you can convince me...” you trail off, your stirring groin battling your tired mind for dominance. The nethers gain a strong boost from a gentle brush of Octavia’s upper thigh. She straddles your leg, her womanly warmth seeping through. The heat of the car makes itself known when you take a deep breath. You force your eyes open, only to see her black hair moving back and forth slowly as Octavia slides her womanhood up and down your leg, pleasing herself as much as pleading you.

You grab her ass greedily and feel as she continues with more enthusiasm. You kiss her earlobe and encourage her more and more, until she’s dry humping you to the point where it’s just silly. Octavia sits up and rides your thigh like her whole sex life depends on it, complete with hot moaning action. Octavia’s round breasts move with her, swinging a little with the rolling motions. Octavia’s face is deep red when she finally stops.

“A bit much?” she asks in a hush.

You touch her hips softly, touching her warm skin. “Yeah, maybe.” You sleepily slip your fingers up and down her sides as Octavia giggles softly, stradling you again.

The sexy musician stands on her hands, her soft breasts hanging down over your collar. “Well, Slavik? What do you want to do?”

You smile and lazily take one globe in your hand, then squeeze it softly. “Honestly, Octavia,” you say, watching her smile. “I was just hoping for some spooning action. I’m very sleepy. I would love to sleep with you.”

The response Octavia gives is delayed, but concurring. “Me too, I want to nap some too. I mean, we basically have to if we want to stay up until dawn. I was up with Scratch this morning helping her pack.”

“Another concert?” Octavia flops gracefully onto her side, her upper body still nude like yours.

“Yeah, all the way in Fillydelphia.” Octavia rolls over and scoots back into your arms.

You nuzzle into her hair and kiss the back of Octavia’s head apologetically. “Is she at least good to you when she’s here?”

“I wish,” Octavia whispers, her voice heavy. “She’s usually PMS-ing over every little thing, saying I’m too posh, saying she won’t ever be really famous.” Octavia stirs a little in your arms. You pull her close, sharing as much intimacy as possible. “Vinyl wants to move to Los Pegasus, or be a big shot in Applewood. I, I could never do that. I would be miserable. That town’s built of plastic and facades, alcohol and decayed morals. Fuck that, I just want to stay in Ponyville. Be a big fish in a small pond.”

Octavia sighs heavily, her shoulders shaking a little. You nuzzle into her again, wishing you could get closer than touching her with her whole body. “It’s alright, Tavi. Things will work out, I’m sure. I promise.”

“Slavik,” she barely breathes, her slight sobbing starting to teeter on the edge. She rolls over and looks at you, her beautiful magenta seas beginning to swell with tears. “I, why can’t she be like you? So honest, grounded, and still beautiful and sexy and talented?” Octavia kisses your cheek and hugs you, tight. Very tight. You hug her back, then tighter. Her tears spill over and disturb your own tumultuous swirl of emotion. You hear her stifle her sobs, but you don’t shy away.

“Slavik...” she whispers, breathing in deep, making her chest expand in your embrace.

“Yes, Tavi?” you barely breathe back.

She breaks away, her slight mascara running down her face in horrible little streaks. Her pained smile is strong. “Thank you, so much. You’re the best friend I could ask for, and then some. I think you really deserve someone, really someone special.”

“I’ve got one in my arms right now.”

Her smile grows into a gleeful beam, a terrific sight. Octavia pounces, hugging you close again. She rolls on top of you again, smothering you. You let her coat your cheeks, chin, forehead, neck, collarbone, then your chest in wet kisses. Octavia looks up at you and crawls back up to your face. “Slavik, I don’t know what to think.” She rests on you again, her soft tits pressing into your chest.

“On one hand,” she begins, resting her lovely head on your chest. “Scratch is fun, makes plenty of money, and my first. She’s a music fanatic, and loves to party. I, I guess I like partying too. It’s just, when I picture us in five years, I can’t see anything different. Her on the road, touring, me maybe with her.” You have to work not to chuckle as she turns her head to rest her other cheek on your chest. “On the other... you’re a strong, stupid sexy man. Tall, handsome, intelligent, funny, fun, talented, have a steady job with advancement and benefits, your own place, you’re hung, in my band, have such a good ear for music, you are creative, uh, don’t do a ton of drugs, what else?”

“I’m single,” you add, trying to keep all emotion out of your voice.

Octavia lifts her head, her black mascara smudged and grey on her cheeks. Some makeup is on your chest. “T-true.” She drops her head on your chest and sighs heavily again. “Slavik, I just don’t know what to think of this.”

“Then don’t. Let what happens to happen, just happen.” You stroke her back some, feeling her cute curves.

Octavia sits up and looks at you, a defeated expression upon her face. “Really? I mean, you really think that I should just, let go, listen to my instincts?”

“Yes, of course. I say, in situations where two outcomes are drastically different, but just as desirable, flip a coin. Don’t think when it’s in the air. When you catch it, don’t look. Just listen, what do you want it to be? That is what you want to happen. It works for choosing a pizza topping, drumstick buying, role playing game choices, even romance.”

Octavia blushes, her cheeks dirty crimson. “But, I really want both of you,” she whispers.

“I want you, Octavia. But, I know that I want you to be happier even more. Even if we have to remain a secret, even if we have to cut this off, I want you to wake up in the morning with a grin, knowing you are with the one you really want to be with.”

She stirs, then lays still, her pretty magenta eyes fixed on yours. The silence is thick as the stuffy air. Octavia smiles, only slightly, making your heart race. She sits up and rests against the back door, sighing and thinking.

You sit up and feel cold without her. Octavia’s nude upper body looks strong, able, untested, but still young. She’s got love to give and a life to live, and she doesn’t need anyone.

Yet, you need her. You’ve fallen asleep at night with her in your thoughts for months. Octavia’s creative genius, her dry wit, her surprisingly dark humor, her pretty face and beautiful hair, her scent, her touch, cute smile, her preciously rare laugh, her round ass and perfect breasts, her sensitive slit, her slit! You watch her breath the warm air and picture the one time you’ve touched her. It wasn’t long ago, and it wasn’t for long, but it was a priceless chunk of time. Octavia’s pink petals were, or are, very easy to wetten. The memory of her convulsing and moaning and soiling her own sheets awakes your lust again. You almost feel guilty for so greedily desiring a taken woman, but it doesn’t feel that wrong. She loves the things you love, is so interesting, so beautiful, so... perfect!

You can’t take the silence. You move to Octavia and grab her hand, looking deep into her eyes. Her deep thought is broken, and so is her frown. She smiles, looking into your eyes as you gaze back. Her deep magenta oceans suck at your soul, making your heart race and jump up into your throat. The way they’re focussed on yours makes you feel powerful and wanted. Not just wanted, no, desired. Invited.

Needed.

“Octavi-”

Her delicate finger touches your lips. “Don’t spoil the moment... Slavik.”

You drift together until Octavia suddenly lunges forward, her bare body engulfed in your embrace. You hug her close, then pull her tighter. You feel her breath on your back, her heart beat faster than yours. Octavia sighs and breaks away, a genuine smile, soft and gentle fills her normally solid face. She melts into your arms and locks her lips with yours. You feel and hear her moan a little as you kiss her again, sharing all your love.

You find yourself laying down, losing yourself to Octavia’s soft moans, returning a few yourself. The interior of the van was cold without her touch. Your head rests against the flooring as Octavia lightly flicks her tongue on your lips. You let her do it again, inviting her into your mouth with a hand sliding down her back. Octavia tenses with good sensations as you grab her round ass gently, her tongue slipping into your lips. You suck on it, pulling her closer still, nearly forcing her to straddle your leg again.

Octavia’s hand traces your chest blindly until it rests on your abdomen, palming the newly shaved happy trail. She breaks away and looks at you, her fingers hooking into your pants. She looks down and smiles, then looks back up, making you grin.

You give her a slow wink.

Octavia takes a quick breath, then looks back down. She gulps hard as she works on the button. You allow her to do all the work, you’re tired, after all. Octavia pulls down your zipper and cautiously puts her hand down your pants. Your hardness is poked blindly as she works to pull it out of the hole in your boxers. Her novice grip is far from unwanted.

Finally, after some pinching and struggling and constricting your testicles, Octavia gets the shaft to stand fully erect in the early evening air. She wraps her fingers around the base and grasps it just hard enough for you to feel a pulse.

“Dear Celestia, doesn’t that hurt a bit, Slavik?”

“A, a bit, I suppose. Just treat it gently but firmly,” you say, lightly rubbing her free arm.

Octavia smiles and begins to move up and down, her first finger and thumb doing most of the squeezing. It feels great, but it does hurt. It hurts so bad just to wait, not to ask for more.

Or more skill.

Octavia goes a bit faster, obviously somewhat uncomfortable. She moans softly, gripping your tool and stooping over a bit. “Slavik, do you want me to suck your cock?”

Her small, sexy voice is the best. You feel your cock throb as her long hair lightly brushes against it. You just smile and nod.

Octavia gets down until her hips touch the carpeting. She sort of smells the tip, a blush and a grimace form on her face. You watch her timidly put her lips to the tip, then look into her eyes as her lips wrap around the head. Her warm breath graces your sensitive skin as she sucks you into her untrained mouth. Octavia’s hand goes flush against your hip and her eyes squeeze shut as you slide deeper into her mouth, nearly a third of your girth is inside her face now. The hot, wet sensation drives a railroad spike of pleasure through your brain.

Octavia moans, vibrating your sensitive member some, then lets you go, letting her saliva fall in thin strands. “Ughk, that was, well it was, fun. Was it alright, Slavik?”

Again you smile wide. “It was fucking fantastic, Octavia. I can’t wait for my turn to please you.”

She smiles and sits up on her side, unknowingly seductive. “You really liked it? I could keep going, if you want.”

“Yes, I want! P-please.”

Octavia giggles a little, then sits back on her knees. “If you could kneel, that would make it easier for me, baby.”

Baby?! “Of course, love.” Octavia beams and blushes as you get up and remove your pants. You leave the boxers on for now. Octavia gets on all fours and grips your shaft in her right hand. She licks her lips, burps behind a posh hand, then opens wide. You feel her wet and hot tongue grace your sensitive member lightly as she sucks you into her mouth. Her luscious lips suck gently at your member as she pulls away, moaning softly. Octavia goes down again, gagging just a little bit. You watch her suck harder, then pull back, knowing that it feels great. Her shoulders shake a little when she inhales through her nose, your meat filling up her mouth. You stand tall on your knees as Octavia loses herself in you.

You find your hand on her gorgeous hair, riding her head as it bobs gently back and forth. The slick sucking accelerates slowly, and Octavia’s started to slurp up her saliva. She’s really drooling now. You’re tempted to buck your hips and fuck her face, but that would be cruel to a first timer, especially one with such knack for oral.

The bassist stops for a breath and to rub her throat. “Sorry, I need a second.”

“No, no it’s okay, Octavia. No, not okay, fucking wonderful! Tavi, that was amazing.” You sit back down as she rests, sitting in such a sultry position. You ache to jump and fuck her right now. You think you might just turn the tables and eat her out for a few hours.

“R-agk, really? I, you know it’s my first time,” she looks away, blushing hard.

“Really really. Do you want to continue?”

Octavia licks her lips and takes a deep breath, then flashes you a seductive look. “I’d love to.” She takes your steel shaft in her hand and pulls on it, then forces you to penetrate her wet grip again. She jerks like this for a bit, finding that it brings you the most pleasure. You lay your head back and feel your pleasure grow with every strong, slow stroke.

“That’s not too hard?” Octavia asks with a whisper. You simply shake your head.

“No,” you reply, looking back down to her from your half-sitting position. “That’s great, Octavia. Could you, uh, use your mouth, soon? It does feel fantastic, though.”

Octavia smiles and nods. “Of course, Slavik. But, it’s too fucking quiet for this.” You watch her get up and crawl to the front of the van, fumble with some things. Octavia turns on the stereo, blasting some classical piece. She turns it down, changes the CD, then comes back. A familiar album by a favorite band of yours picks up. You instantly recall the rhythm of the first track.

Watching her climb over seats topless, in her tight black pants, is very erotic. You get up and needlessly help her, “accidentally” pulling her giggling body to yours. Octavia’s tight, round ass grinds your dick some as you kiss her neck and touch her torso. Your fingers find her nipples and gently pinch, then meander around to hold her breast and play at her pant’s button.

“Ah, already?” she moans out, giggling and moaning and grinding and gasping as your fingers slip into her wet panties. “I thought you would enjo-oh, enjoy ejaculating on my chest.”

“It’s cumming,” you say, resuming sucking on her neck.

“Right!” Octavia spits out quickly, struggling to stay coherent as you touch her wet clitoris. “Where w-was I?”

You stop and let Octavia up, smiling back at her smile. She blushes as you stick your wet finger in your mouth without a second’s hesitation. The flavor makes you recoil a bit. It’s not as harsh as you thought it was, but the suddenness was a shock.

“Mmm, tasty,” you say with a cheesy thumbs up. Octavia rolls her eyes and giggles, then sits back on her haunches.

“Okay,” she says, digging into the music with you, lightly touching your erection. “I’ll just pick up where I left off, then...”

You spread your legs wide and let Octavia lower her mouth to you. Her hot breath precedes her warm, wet tongue. She’s much less shy, now that she’s used to the flavor. Octavia moans and sucks you deep in her mouth. Now, it seems she’s much less bashful. Music and your touch being the only variables in this new environment, you decide to leave the specifics of Octavia’s new fervor in mystery.

You rest your palm on her cranium as she bobs up and down. It feels more amazing than before. Octavia sucks hard and pulls up, pulling wetly on your sensitive skin. Then, she pushes your curved head into the roof of her mouth by pressing hard on the underside with her soft tongue. The bumpy surfaces of her tongue and mouth are different yet mind-numbing. Before you have time to realize it, you’re nearing your limit. Octavia’s a natural, it’s as if she’s studied the anatomy. Maybe she has.

Octavia stops for a moment and rests her chops. “Ah, was that good, Slavik?”

You look down at her, her sexy magenta eyes all yours. “The best, Tavi. I was really getting close.”

“A-alright, do you want me to finish you off, or do you want to, do it yourself?”

You play with her dangling black strands of soft, shimmering hair. “You brought those tissues back here. Do you want me to frost your great tits?”

Octavia loses it, breaking down in a snicker. She hugs your waist, your spear standing against her neck. You let her chuckle for a bit, drumming on your waist with the fastest song on the album. Octavia rocks her head a little with you, basically forcing you to thrust your hips a little.

You don’t stop when she stands up on her hands. She doesn’t say anything during a delicious breakdown, just stares at you. Octavia bites her lip and goes back down. She grips the base of your slick cock and licks the underside with her flattened tongue; she’s the antithesis of bashful.

The song goes to a slower part, so she gently sucks you deep into her mouth again. Octavia looks up with her beauteous eyes, grinding and twisting and moaning as she slurps up all her spit. Octavia takes a quick break to stroke you skillfully, then goes back down. She closes her eyes and strokes you with her hand as her head bobs up and down, accelerating.

You force yourself to breath deep and enjoy her mouth for as long as possible. Your erection is throbbing painfully now, aching to flood her mouth with your load. You grunt and thrust your hips involuntarily. The track changes once more, your favorite song on the record is on now. Octavia goes faster now, sucking so hard her cheeks are caving in. Her speed is faster than the brutal beat.

Grunting is as common as exhaling. Octavia is too good, she’s a prodigy of pleasure. You just want to force her face to go faster, but she might not be so willing and amazing. You feel a stopper in your lungs, preventing anything than half of your chest cavity to fill with air. You pant shallow breaths and hold back the detonation. The sensations of Octavia’s wet lips sucking on your dick sends sharp spines of surreal pleasure throughout your core. You begin to feel your sack ache in your trousers, so you pat Octavia’s head gently in warning.

“Ah, that’s good! G-gonna shoot soon, Octavia. Where?” You feel her saliva cool on your cock, it’s a true battle not to force her face to the carpet and paint it right then.

“Here!” She says, sitting up and holding her perfect C-cups together.

You get up and stand tall on your knees, forcing Octavia to lay down. You grip the base of your rod and grip hard, not pulling quite yet. The noiseless picture of Octavia staring up at you, helpless, waiting for you makes your breath catch. No. Not helpless, willing, skilled, beautiful, but perfect. Consenting, wanting, maybe even needing.

“Come on, Slavik. Blow your load all over my chest, cover my tits in your hot, sticky... cum.”

She just mouths the last word, but it makes your ears and busy mind ring silent. You stroke only twice before feeling your tool work. The entire organ fires, launching a thick volley. All of the ten shots hit Octavia’s chest from short range, some longer, stronger and more voluminous than others. You relax and sit back on her hips gently, spent, your rod sticky with spit and sperm.

Octavia giggles and wipes her cheek with a forearm. “Holy fuck,” she says, fighting the music. You reach back and turn it down some, suddenly too loud.

When you turn and inspect the damage again, you’re surprised. You expected a decent coating in one area, but that’s not the case. Octavia’s left hand as well as her breasts are plastered. Your thick seed, flying as blindly as it was, mostly coated her chest on her left side. You grab the box of tissues, thankful that it’s full, and steal a few before letting Octavia wipe up.

“Sorry,” you softly say, hypnotized by her slow work. “I, it was... nice.”

Octavia shoots you a strange glance, but not an angry one. She sits up and wads up some more tissues. “I’m glad you liked it so much, Slavik,” Octavia says, her face blood red.

“Heh, well, I guess I’ve kind of saved up, too.”

“Oh. Really?” Octavia’s snideness is not unwarranted. You still feel proud..

You take some of the dirty tissues and stuff them in a plastic bag. “You were amazing, Octavia. Beyond amazing. I never knew oral could be so good.”

Octavia’s blush moves through her shoulders. She looks up to you, some semen dangling from a tissue, threatening to land on the carpet. “You really, really liked it then?”

“Absolutely loved it.” You take a tissue and finish up the last of the mess on her breast, taking a slow, generous handful. The two of you use a pocket-sized bottle of hand-sanitizer to clean your bodies. You leave your dick messy, knowing how greatly rubbing alcohol and genitals mix.

“Every second was pure heaven, Octavia,” you say, rubbing your hands over both of her breasts, the small amount of alcohol freezing on your skin. Judging from the look on Octavia’s face, it’s just as cold on her chest. “Just like every second I get to spend with you. I only wish...” you move in and kiss her cheek, then move to her ear. “That I could return the favor.”

“No,” she whispers. “Some lotion, first, that sanitizer stuff dries my skin out like crazy. And,” she continues more lightly. “You can rub my tits as much as you want.”

You take the bottle she points at, squirt some of the lotion in your palm, then work her breasts for at least two full songs. Octavia moans and spreads her legs, encouraging you to go all over. After a bit, however, she stops you.

Octavia smiles wide as she leans back, pulling you down by your hand. You stand on your hands and knees. After putting your package away, you kiss Octavia on her clothed knee. She covers her chest, erect nipples rock hard, as you slip your hands down to her waist. You hook your fingers in her pants and pull, lifting her by her nice little ass. Octavia’s soft pants slide off easily, exposing her shapely, sexy, soft legs. You feel your dick harden again and your salivary glands roar to life. You have to stop yourself from diving on Octavia and ripping her panties off.

You manage to seductively lick along her thighs until you get to her underwear. Her scent is so strong, it’s invigorating. You inhale deeply and shut your eyes, hovering above her soaked panites. You kiss her labia through the fabric, gently pursing your lips, pulling through the cotton garments. Octavia loves that, leaning hard into the interior of her auto. You look up and lick her nub as she squeezes her bare nipple a bit. You manage to catch her eye once before going back down to move her underwear.

Octavia grins meekly and covers her bare slit. You sit back, her soaked panties in hand, and watch as she slowly spreads her lower lips for you. “You don’t have a rubber on you now, do you?”

You shake your head. No lying now. “No, they’re still in my room. I forgot, I suppose I should have brought one, just in case we, uh-”

“Slavik, you’re rambling. Let’s do this, please?” Octavia demands with a smile that you get to work.

You oblige silently and get back down to her exposed pink. You replace Octavia’s spreading fingers with your own, parting her fat labia easily. Her puffy lips are hot and soaked under your strong fingers. Octavia sighs deeply as you kiss her nub, then suck it into your lips. You nuzzle your knuckle againsts her little entrance and lean into it as you play with her clit. The moans increase bit by bit as you speed up and push harder into Octavia’s pussy.

You rest your head on the soft skin above Octavia’s shaved pussy and kiss her, pushing your first finger into her. She grabs your hair as your fingertip pops inside. Your rigidness throbs as her tight, hot pussy squeezes your first digit. Octavia moans more as you push deeper, then all the way. She thrusts her hips just the slightest bit as you pull your finger back and then push in again, feeling her ribbed flesh suck on you. You can feel every little bit of her insides; your cock is painfully hard with envy.

You move down again and gently kiss the musician’s penetrated lips. You catch her smile and flash one of yours before licking her super sensitive nub. Octavia rests a hand where your head had rested before, rocking her hips as you finger her faster and faster. You spin your wrist around and feel for her special spot, but it eludes you. Octavia tenses as you attempt another finger.

“N-no,” she softly says. “T-two’s too many, ahmmmmm your fingers are too thick, Slavik.” She smiles, panting, and looks down.

You flick Octavia’s clitoris in response, eliciting a tiny spasm from her core. You hear the song change, making you aware that there is music playing. Again. You breath through your nose, sure Octavia can feel the warm air on her femness, and push inside again. She moans hotly as you slowly pump her pussy, grinding around, massaging the “roof” of her vagina with the length of your thick finger. You bend your finger up towards her stomach, wrist up, but keep your finger straight, moving left and right. She really likes that. You smile and bury your lips into hers, kissing and sucking blindly. You love this sensation, her warm, wet sex all around your finger. She’s very tight, especially at her entrance. Octavia begins moaning as the song takes a more mellow turn, letting you hear her better.

You lose yourself to her, to touching her, loving it nearly as much as she. Fingering Octavia is a joy and a privilege, not mere foreplay. It’s definitely not a chore: her wet womanhood loves your touch. Before the seven minute song is over, Octavia’s rolling her hips around with you. You sit up and hold her, fingering her from behind. The ball of your palm presses into her labia as your first finger curls up inside. You are forced to switch hands, but your ambidexterity allows for a perfect replication. Octavia moans as you suck her neck, then her shoulder. You know her sweater vest won’t cover the hickie, but you don’t care much at all at the moment.

The music bathes the both of you in chordal ambiance. You listen to Octavia’s moans become ragged from point-blank. She lays her head back, showing her delicate neck to the universe inside the vehicle. You touch it lightly with your sticky free hand, watching Octavia immerse herself in the pleasure your fingers bring her. You lay her down on the carpeting and move again between her gorgeous thighs. She doesn’t look down this time, too close to her climax.

You clear your throat, crack your knuckles, crack your neck, then get down to business. You use your thumbs to pull Octavia’s lips apart and gently lick her exposed pink. So far, Octavia’s been quiet, save for her sexy moans. You kiss and lick her clit some more, too, loving her little hip movements. You take your right index and penetrate again, making Octavia gasp with pleasure. You turn your wrist up and move your body to Octavia’s side Your palm on the skin above her slit as you pull your first digit out and push in with your second, bathing the dry finger instantly in her heat. Just as quickly, you find her g-spot without trying. The absent spongy bulge presents itself to you now, and now you circle it and stimulate it like it’s the most important thing in the world. Octavia shakes and shudders at your touch, moaning, grabbing your free arm on the other side of her.

“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, yes! O-oh, Sc-Slavik, just like that, yes, yes yes yes YES!” Octavia bites her lip and tosses her head around, her hips wildly lifting and falling. Her animated body moves as the music picks up again. You watch her right hand clasping at your thigh, and an idea hatches in your brain. You slow your playing finger some and take her hand and make it slide up your hairy leg to your groin.

“Ah, alright,” she whispers, smiling up at you. Octavia grins and grabs your crotch gently, feeling for your stick. You pull it out of your shorts for her, but she finds it on her own. Octavia grins and bites her lip as she slowly tugs on it. You bend your neck down as she strokes you well and suck her clit into your lips. You middle finger pumps her pussy deep and hard as you play with her clitoris, determined to make her scream.

Octavia’s hand works very well, making you feel fantastic in no time flat. You punish her with pleasure for her deed. “G-god, that feels good, Slavik. Yes, do that, JUST like th-hahh...” She trails off, her hand limp and hovering in the air near your tool. You feel Octavia zombify as you rub her special spot. All Octavia can do is pant and moan and thrust her hips a tiny bit. You use your other hand to please her clit, straining your back to keep yourself in such a position. Octavia’s tiny pussy milks your finger, not knowing. Her lips begin to spasm with her hips, she’s going to cum.

You wonder if she’s a squirter, like those porn stars. You hope so. If so, she’s aimed at the door, so nothing important will get soaked. You rub her clit more and circle her g-spot a little lighter.

“G-ah! More, Slavik, I’m so close, I’m, so close!” she screams over the music.

You squeeze her clit cruelly, relishing her cry in pained pleasure. Octavia thrusts her hips forcefully as you pinch and play with it enthusiastically, still holding back with her other spot.

You feel her hips tense up and her pussy quake around your finger, so you push into her spot hard, rubbing like crazy. Octavia cums, and she cums hard, stifling her screams into her arm. Her whole sex shakes and she arches her back. You watch her whole body spasm and her toes curl as she cums, leaking out some clear, off-whitish fluids. She calms down quickly, moaning and rubbing herself. You leave your finger in until she looks up at you with her beautiful magenta circles. You get down and kiss her deeply, touching her sweaty body with both slimy hands.

Octavia pulls you down and rolls over you as silence at the end of the album carries on. The only noises are your tongue slipping over hers and some light moaning. The darkness of silence eats at your consciousness. The world’s best blanket slows down on top of you until you’re both resigned to gentle kissing, sucking on lips lightly and eventually stopping. You open your eyes once and see her, tracing your chest with a finger.

“You almost made me make my van very dirty, Slavik.” Octavia whispers a different pronunciation this time, the “I” sounding like “ee”. It’s very cute, coming from her.

“Prosti, moya krasivyy.”

“Tu sei il mio stallone” she whispers back. The language barriers are impenetrable for now, but you can work on that later. For now, there’s time to cuddle and nap.

Octavia kisses you once before rolling onto her side, offering her nice butt to move against. You hold her waist and rest on your elbow, very happy to be nude with Octavia.

Silence slowly begets sleep.

It’s hot, sticky, and something’s tickling your nose. You puff it away and try to flip over, but something’s pinning your arm. When you attempt to move, an army of freezing needles pierces your forearm, erupting in annoying pain. You open your eyes and roll back anyway, only to see a mass of long, messy dark hair.

The woman keeping your armed pinned and asleep stirs and then rolls into your chest, nuzzling closer. She’s very attractive, and very hot to the touch. Carefully, you fish your arm out from under her and hug her close, finally starting to blink through the morning amnesia.

But it’s not morning. The sky is dark outside the curved windows. The both of you just had hand and mouth sex in Octavia’s dorky van, you remember. You shake your head, dying of thirst, and hold Octavia’s sleepy form close, drinking in her soft moan of content.

You can’t hold back a huge smile as you rub her sticky back. You can’t deny yourself liquid refreshment for long, but for now a glass of water can wait; there’s snuggling to do.

Octavia kisses your cheek and wraps her arms around your chest, holding hers close. You rub your face in her nice dark hair, softly breathing her naturally overwhelming scent. You listen to her breath on the silence, occasionally moaning just the slightest at your touch.

After a very comfortable time, Octavia gets up and rubs her eyes. You lay your head on your hands and watch, unashamed completely to the lack of clothes. Octavia blushes some, but doesn’t hide herself or look away. She even smiles as she looks over your flaccid length.

“G-good morning, Slavik,” Octavia says softly, clearing her throat hard.

“Morning, my beautiful Octavia. I think we should get going to get some water, yes?” you ask, sitting up and pulling your underwear from under your pants.

Octavia shakes her hair and leaves it in a furious tangle. “Yes please. Oh, what time is it?” You pull on your shorts as Octavia hunts for her cellular. You smile and help, tempted to kiss her and eat up all the time you can. Instead, you find it wedged between the driver seat and a bag.

“Twenty-three hundred, we’ve time.” Octavia sighs with relief and sits on her knees, letting you drink in her nudity for another minute. She sits back and rubs her knees, red from rug-rash.

“Sorry for the harsh carpeting. It’s like steel wool on my knees, jeez.” Octavia slips on her panties, blushing as she does so.

“No joke,” you reply, your elbows a bit raw. It’s hardly an issue. You’re tempted to stop her from getting less naked and kiss her, then slip a finger down to her perfect womanhood. You lay still instead, watching with all intent as Octavia fills her skin-tight pants.

You accept her into your arms after she finds her sweater vest. As nerdy as it is, the argyle garment fits perfectly on her and just as well on stage. She’s really cute with just that on, you remember with a devious grin.

Octavia moans softly, sighing, as she falls into your sleepy embrace. Your mind is still booting up and your eyes still have boogers, but they can wait. Octavia smiles and laughs seductively as your hands find her breasts.

“Mmmm, Slavik,” she softly coos. Octavia communicates without any more words that she wants to sit on your lap. You lean against the side of the interior and kiss her neck. There’s a sizeable hickie there from earlier, purple already. You can’t help but grin, knowing she’s carrying proof of your afternoon delight.

You hum the familiar tune, eliciting a spiteful chuckle from Octavia. She strokes your chin, feeling the five o’clock shadow as you gently caress her breasts. Octavia moans just the slightest bit as you squeeze them harder, then harder still. She sighs and lifts her head as you venture south. You kiss her neck and feel your pants begin to grow uncomfortable as you lightly cup her womanhood. The warmth is fantastic.

“Ah, maybe water can wait...” Octavia says softly as you stroke her hot femness through her pants. She melts like butter to your touch. The heat intensifies a bit, the liquid seeping all the way through.

You slip your hand under her pants slowly, drawing out a hot gasp of delight. Octavia undoes the button of her pants with a little pop and shrieks.

“Medley!”

“That’s an odd thing to shout during, Octavi-oh.” Medley stands outside, looking at the two of you with her jaw on the gravel. Octavia scrambles to fix her pants and hide while crickets chirp and guitars play behind a parking lot and a heavy wooden wall.

“Slavy!” Medley finally shouts, her melons heaving in their heavy-duty holster. “What the FUCK?! I thought we had something!”

You wipe your slightly damp fingers on your khakis and stand up on your suddenly stiff knees. “No, no, we do! We, wait, we?” you ask. “What’s this ‘we’ shit?” You gesture to both Octavia and the exasperated Medley. She looks particularly drunk tonight, her hair horrible and her makeup extra-whorish. “We as in you and me, or we as in Octavia and I?”

“Asshole!” she shouts. “Get the fuck out here, you fucking prick, I awta kick yer ass. You too, bish.”

“No, I’m not going out there,” Octavia states.

“Why not?!”

“Because,” she says. “You’ll assault me, that’s why.”

“Damn STRAIGHT!”

“Girls,” you interject, loathing the altercation already. “Calm down, let’s go inside an-”

“YOU calm down! Fucking scumbag, get your ass backstage, we go on in like an hour and I’m not near drunk enough.”

You give Octavia a look and crawl outside. The cool air is a comfort and a pain, bringing new life to your lungs but killing the musty and lusty heat. Medley trods heavily in front of you. Octavia climbs out and follows, locking up.

The parking lot is packed. Pods of partiers drink and smoke and wait and refresh outside in the clear, warm night. The summer night is not cold, but it’s not the heat of a sweaty van or the cooked stage. You give the burly guy at the back door a nod, but you don’t need to. Ponyville’s small enough and you’ve played here so much that he might as well be an old friend. Too bad you can’t remember his name.

“Can’t believe this shit...” Medley mumbles loudly as you head to the equipment room. The band on at the moment is not slowing down at all, they’ve got a very dark and grandiose energy. You hold a hand behind you and make Octavia covertly stop.

You turn and give her a nod, receiving a smile. Medley half-stomps to the back room as you and Octavia sneak into the thickest part of the crowd, disappearing immediately into plain sight.

“WE, THE, PEO-PLE...” the singer screams out at the top of his lungs, the entire ensemble engaged in an epic set. You resist the urge to dive into the pit and shove the sweaty teens around; you’ve got to avoid bruises and bumps and broken bones for tonight. Octavia is beaming at your side on the outer rim of the mosh pit, however. The song seems to be coming to an end, but it just falls out to a slower and somehow louder section. Like some of the symphonic music Octavia forced on you, it sprouts a smile on your face and a lift in your gut. The feeling is amazing, without equal.

Octavia sneaks her hand to yours, and you look down at her. The bassist and cellist’s face is flush, she’s feeling it, too. This music is like the best of both worlds: thumping bass and hard, abrasive guitars with intense polyrhythms, and the soul-wrenching quality and professional precision of a world-renowned orchestra. It’s as if 18th century composers passed their genius onto hate-filled adolescents. Octavia’s pretty face makes everything that much more meaningful. You hold her hands and just want to hoist her up as the song progresses through cheering and a little drop-off.

The vocals smooth out fantastically, giving rise to an alien, high-tech feeling ballad. Majors precede minors, and the uplifting feeling turns into cement. Octavia smiles wide and laughs out loud, a precious sound heard in the crowd.

“What’s funny?” you ask, nearly shouting.

“You!” Octavia gives you a quick peck and a hug, then leads you to the back of the crowd. “Your face when you were looking at me, it was hilarious!”

The both of you find a little railing near less people and lean. “What do you mean?”

“You were grinning like a dumb monkey, is what I mean. It’s cute.” Octavia gives you a quick peck.

You feel her body nuzzle closer as you bump hips. “I couldn't help it, the music, it... it was nice.”

“No, you’re nice,” Octavia says resting her head on your chest. You just want to skip the show and spoon for a few hours.

“Are we on next?” you ask Octavia quietly, not sure if she can hear. She nods, rubbing her face into your stained shirt.

“Fuck yeah. Hopefully Medley isn’t too drunk.”

“I know, right?” Noteworth adds. “She’s full on rustled, I tell ya. Hey, you two uh, a thing then?”

You look up and see the guitarist with a nonchalant look. He’s got his work shirt on too: a greasy navy blue mechanic button shirt with a stained wife beater under. “Where the hell did you come from, Noteworth?”

“A place. Er, backstage. Like I said, Medley is in a bad way.” He scratches the back of his head, looking around awkwardly. “Er, so... yeah. Let’s go back and make sure Medley doesn’t break a bottle of schnapps over a snare, okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, remembering the gravity of the situation. “Yeah, let us go, then.”

Octavia remains silent as she follows the two of you backstage to the room by where you met earlier. You can hear shouting long before you get to the door.

“And if I have to fucking haul your shit around ONE MORE TIME, I’ll hold your puny putrid cock and cut off the rest of your ugly fucking body!” Medley continues screaming at Seventh String. It looks like he’s just watching the paint slowly rot on the wooden walls, ignoring the bullshit she’s spewing. The last comment hit home with you, however.

Noteworth tries to sneak a word in. “Medley, calm dow-”

“No, you!” You shout back, drawing a sudden silence from everywhere. It’s as if the band heard you. “Shut your dirty mouth, Medley, and open up your waxy ears, because I have something to tell you.” You take one step closer, blocking the door. “You and me, we never had a damn thing. You batted those eyelashes at me and you might as well have been trying to tickle down an iron curtain. Second, you have fucking horrible taste in music! Take that song you forced the band to listen to a week ago. ‘Back in the Saddle’? That’s fucking... lame. You, how you look, how you talk, how you act, how you sound, how you ‘sing’, it’s all described aptly by one four letter word: lame.” You turn in place and squeeze the bridge of your nose, eight familiar eyes fixed on you and broiling your rage into a high-pressure steam.

Medley leans heavily on an expensive bass drum. “B-but you always texted me back-”

“Because you’re fucking pathetic and you seemed like you wanted the recognition! Stand the hell off my stuff, it’s worth more than you. Go out and buy a real damn metal album, you dizzy bitch.”

Medley tears up some more, her cheap makeup already all over her face and skimpy top. Eight eyes are on her, and she’s too weak of constitution to stomach it. “F-ff-” she can’t even mumble a rebuttal before she storms out, nearly hitting the door frame.

“Holy...” Noteworth whispers. “Dude.” He walks over and clasps you on the shoulder. “Dude! Dude, you just, dude!”

“I think what he’s trying to say is ‘nice going, getting rid of the dead weight’.” Octavia grabs your other shoulder gently, convincing you to look up at her.

“Yeah. Uh, thanks.” You look up and see Seventh String offer a fist. You bump it and crack your neck. “I’m sorry, I gue-”

“No, man,” Seventh says. “We’re sorry. Me, mostly.” He takes up his guitar case in one hand and takes one step to the door. “Sorry for letting that girl in the band. She did know how to suck cock like a pro though.”

“No way!” Noteworth shouts. “You too? Oh man!”

“Slut,” Octavia barely whispers under her breath.

“Indeed.” You feel validated, to say the least. Octavia stays nearby and averts her eyes. You accept her hand with a smile when she sneaks it to yours.

“Uh, I just thought of something,” Seventh says. “Who’s gonna do the vocals?”

“You, like always?” Noteworth states like it’s hardly an issue.

“No,” you but in. “The singing. The girl’s part is kinda important.”

A silence carries throughout the room. Noteworth and Seventh String look around, ignoring the coming showtime. Octavia squeezes your hand and catches your eye. Her magenta orbs are unsure, but capable. You know she can sing, but, can she do it?

“Octavia,” you say without much thought.

“N-no,” she says instantly. “I, uh.... no, I couldn’t...”

Noteworth and Seventh String look up now.

“Uh, Octavia?” Seventh String asks. “Can you... sing?”

She nods. “Yeah, I took ten years of choir.” Her tone is begrudgingly confident, as if she is absolutely sure of herself and her abilities, yet doesn’t want her neck on the line.

“And you know the lyrics?” he asks.

Octavia’s level stare is like stone.

“That means yes,” you whisper, flicking Octavia on the side. She erupts in an adorable little fit, protecting her ticklish sides.

You laugh and deflect her retaliation with your forearm, backing off and sneaking in another pinch or two.

“Alright!” you say, holding Octavia at arm’s length. “Alright, so Octavia will do the vocals tonight with you, Sevy.”

“Right,” he says, half paying attention. He had pulled out his tuner sometime and began wanking around, running through a few riffs with ease. Noteworth was gone in the bathroom, and Medley was likely in the women’s room, blowing chums for cash.

Not really, you assure yourself, but who cares? “Alright,” Octavia whispers, finding her bass.

“Nervous?” you ask quietly, getting your crap together. The red digital clock on the wall says you’re on in ten, but the band on is still going strong.

Octavia opens her case and begins getting ready herself, the band on still blasting away. “I’d be lying if I said no. But,” she continues with a little sigh. “I think no matter how we do, and I’m fairly certain we’ll do great, I’m certain tonight will be a fantastic night.”

You give her a little wink and sit on a case, not much to do while the other band is up. “So you’re excited then?”

“My heart’s beating like a damned humming bird, yeah I’m excited!” Octavia crosses her legs and rocks in her seat some. “Maybe a bit nervous as well.”

“Don’t be,” you reassure her, looking for a proper place to pop a squat. “I’m sure you’ll kill it tonight. We all will. Without that dead weight you’ll have to work a bit harder, but... I’m sure you’ll do great. Fantastic, and if you don’t feel like singing any particular part, just let Seventh do it.”

“Yeah?” she replies. “I guess.”

“You guess? Bullshit, you didn’t convince me!”

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Eh, good enough.” You give up and sit on the floor in front of her, hungry for another taste of her pie. You take off your buttoned shirt and lean against her chair, resting between her knees. Octavia rests her bass on your head, but you couldn’t care less.

A little time passes with no noteworthy occurrences. Octavia plays some bits unamplified, all but a few melodies escape your recollection. Before long, however, you’re woken up by a sudden cheering. The blasting music has finally ended, it seems.

Before any time at all, it seems like you’re on stage and ready to perform. The crowd is definitely warmed up, the last set must have been pretty great.

Some fit guys and girls are already at work moving the heavier stuff when you get to the back door with Octavia. You help adjust the drums and other stuff to your liking, mostly. You’ve got a fairly standard metal drummer’s setup, but a few personal modifications. Two china cymbals, for example. There’s a special stick bag hanging from a tom, you smile and think of the twenty-minute long song that will be used for. The band mills around on stage, letting the crowd collect again after a bathroom break, smoke break, shot break, breather, whatever. The large hall is stuffy with sweat of a few hundred. The turnout is the biggest you’ve seen, and you’re the headliner. It’s fucking beautiful.

Seventh String catches your eye. You twirl a stick and give him a little nod. You smack every drum seven times, making sure it’s tuned. Luckily, they are. Octavia cracks her neck and rolls her sleeves up. She has her sweater vest over a nice lavender blouse, deep pink in the reddish stagelight. The theme for tonight’s show is purgatory, just like the name of your album. Purgatory, by Fallen is Babylawn. Has a nice ring to it.

Noteworth wanks some, tapping up and down the frets in a nearly random pattern, drawing a few hollers from the teenage sluts in the crowd. He plays the 9/8 riff twice, then stops to stretch his fingers.

At last, when you’re just getting in the zone, Seventh String plays a chord and steps to the microphone, his long blond ponytail grotesquely neat.

“Good evening, ladies and gentile genitalia. How the fuck is Ponyville tonight?!” Seventh String shouts into the mic, getting a huge response. “BULLSHIT! I can’t hear a damn thing! I guess Silence is Spoken took your balls, huh? Let’s hear it for those fuckers, they’re fresh from Baltimare and came all the way on their own tour just to see little old you. Ain’t that kind? Come on, were they killer or were they FUCKING KILLER?!”

The crowd erupts again, maybe a bit louder. You pound a little double bass, just to make sure your testicles are functioning at full capacity. “NOW IS THE TIME!” Seventh screams. “NOW IS-actually, one announcement.” A few boos, mostly playful. One “get on with it” can be heard. The voice is a little familiar, but you shrug it off. Octavia strolls around, shaking her long black hair about some. The view from behind is pretty nice.

“Before we go on,” Seventh goes on, “those of you with any mathematical prowess may have noted our diminished sum upon this performing platform. Our vocalist Medley couldn’t make it, and I’m not sure if she’s coming back. But,” he says. “BUT,” he shouts, “IF YOU SEE HER, SEND HER A BOUQUET OF RADIOACTIVE DICKS!” Seventh lightens up and pulls the mic close to his face. He speaks in a timid tone: “She’s out of the band.” He regains his stage presence and takes a short walk around. The crowd is chirping and buzzing with some confusion, at least those who actually know the band and it’s members. Three, well, two of the band members actually grew up here.

“Eeyup, she dun fucked up. Long story short, we’re a four man group now!” The crowd cheers some, inquiries fly above those. Some accusations even trickle through to the back of the stage where you sit, ultimately bored.

“But NOW IS THE TIME! FOR TOMORROW, IS THE SUMMER SUN CELEBRATION! Be sure to head up to the library for the afterparty! But DON’T TELL ANYONE, CUZ GODDAMN IT’S A SURPRISE!” Seventh’s vocal stylings are really a credit to dementia. “NOW HEAR THIS! BEYOND THE STARS, LIES YOUR DEMIIIIISE!!”

The crowd screams their lungs out, finally getting what they paid for.

You take in the biggest breath you can and roar as loud as possible: “YOU WANNA SEE FUCKING CRAZY?!” Three quick slaps of the china and the first song explodes into the air. A grueling, yet clockwork-precise blast beat crushes everything in it’s path, a double bass and cymbal and snare and tom earthquake blasts forward. You keep the pressure on, already making yourself breath hard. The bass amp is next to you, just like it should, bathing you in a brutal and perfect and constant chordal progression in a complex rhythm. You finish the fill with a spastic and perfect roll then a one-bar blast, then take it down a notch.

The chaotically organized opening was picture perfect, and you can only assume the audience looks like angry hornet soup. Seventh String and Noteworthy take the lead with their dual solo, a perfect melodic line with a perfect harmonic above. Octavia loses herself to the metal, a precious sight, when you can see it. You never lose a note of her heavy sound, however. Some say the bass is the foundation of the band. Dammit, it is, and that’s fucking important. You grin and run along, keeping the double bass spot on. This whole song is reminiscent of a giant, maybe ancient train on a prophetically unstoppable path to a divinity’s unbreakable temple. The analogy Seventh String came up with made more sense to Octavia than you, but the image became clearer once you heard the song they composed.

This song was one of four that they wrote together. The other five were written individually; Octavia wrote three. Technically, you remember as you blink away a bead of sweat, she’s the lead writer. Except for the intense solos, the chords of which are her brainchild, Octavia really did make the band. You risk a look and catch her looking at the ceiling, sure and trusting in herself and her bandmates. She carries on, just like you, in the background. Like a nuclear engineer on a submarine, she forces the ship into violent waters.

Before you know it, the song’s headed into another, just like you’ve all practiced. The next song starts off slower, and you get a chance to catch your breath. Octavia plays a broken chord, each note perfectly tuned and in minor to the last. Then another, progressing on to a crowd of cheering fans. Not a huge one, each scream of praise can be heard individually. But they’re dedicated, earned, and ever growing.

Octavia steps to her, Medley’s, microphone and takes a deep breath. Without even needing to hum the pitch or anything, she hits it dead on. “This life,” she begins softly, knowing the true way to sing it. Medley always butchered the tone for the sake of sounding deeper than the shallow kiddie pool she was. “... Is destroying all my dreams. It tears the seams at what seems like it should last, making dust from perfect slabs. This life,” she goes on, you and her the only ones playing at this section. “... Erodes this life, taking our work, labors laid to waste. This love,” she sings, dropping into the darkest, most harsh chord ever. It’s a lochryan, she says, whatever that is. “... is a paradox of needing. This life, dank and rife with loneliness, we live... love... learn to keep our matches dry.” You play a small fill as the other two join in, riding shotgun to the vocals and the haunting melody.

“Metaphors fail the wit, scraping dirt just for a hit, who gives a shit who’s getting fucked? An orchard can’t heal the sick, but medicine can’t feed the thin, the fatties can’t see us beyond their chins.”

You blast away a thick fill, beating out a double bass and smacking the crash on the dome at the end, creating a cute little “ting” at the end of a heavy, complex two-bar rhythm. You unleash the monster and just go, letting the fury of your hate flow forth with practiced and intelligent precision. The others come in when they’re supposed to. You come off the solo and level out onto a complicated and double bass heavy section, you the churning wheels of a speeding, bass-fueled locomotive.

“LIIIII-VING...” Seventh String shouts into the microphone. “IIIIIS KIIIIILIIING LIIIIIIIIFE...” he finishes the verse, you slapping out a fill after every line. Some are thicker than others, some are more syncopated.

The next section is a favorite. A harsh breakdown, lengthy and with all three guitars in unison, on harmonies and all, push out a crazy Mozart-esque arpeggio. The rush of a perfect song, it’s unparalleled. Unlike accomplishing avoiding a member of the secret police, you aren’t left in the heart-racing purgatory of doubt and fear. You’ve won, and there’s no downside or worry.

The breakdown breaks down, and instead of finishing strong, it decays, acid melting the chordal structure and nipping at the tempo. It’s tough to master, but the four of you find faith in Octavia’s lead, her amp right behind you. As the notes slowly fall away forever, you feebly lay down a few more hits.

A gross little noise plays in your ear, Octavia’s final sounds eek out, if they can be called that. A truly brutal ending.

The crowd erupts at the ending, bringing you back from the zone. You smile wide, wiping some sweat away, and immediately notice Octavia to your right. She smiles at you, her long black hair looks like she just went a few rounds with a leaf blower and lost. Her face reflects the stage lights with some healthy sweat, making some of her bangs curl on her forehead.

Ponyville is still cheering when she approaches you, setting her bass down on the ground. Octavia steps on the set platform, leaning over some. Her lips, her luscious lips move some, but you can’t hear a sound over the crowd. You gesture your deafness, and Octavia just smiles, rolling her eyes. Suddenly, the bassist lifts her sweater vest over her head and drops it at her feet. She rips her blouse off, pulling the buttons clean off. Octavia stands in just a bra in front of you, her face blood red and smiling. Octavia quickly pulls her sweater vest back on to some booing. You thump the bass pedal a few times like a heart, “lub dub, lub dub.”

Octavia furiously flips you a finger, her lips curled up in an enraged grin in spite of her embarrassment. Funny, she’s hardly bashful when she turns around and bends over, slowly picking up her bass. You stop the heart gag and watch her stand up and strut to her microphone. Her little argyle vest fits her like a glove, almost. You’re jealous of the crowd, who has a better view of her front. You do, however, get some quality time to drink in the shape of Octavia’s legs in her tight pants.

A wolf whistle penetrates the cheers and shouts. Seventh string whips his hair around, letting it hang around his face and microphone. “Your faces melted yet, can we go to the afterparty and get blitzed now?” The crowd shouts again, voices louder and happier than others.

“No?!” Seventh looks at Noteworth in a mock questioning. “Are these fuckers serious, we gotta keep playing? FUCK!” He grabs the frets and screams, strumming harsh chords. “WE’RE FUCK-ING BROKE!” You brap out the double bass rhythm with that lick, the hook of your song “Fucking Broke”.

“WE’RE!” Fucking broke! a few of the fans chant, actually knowing you or your music. “YOU!” Fucking Broke! A few more join in. “FACE!!” FUCKING BROKE! Nearly every tired and sore-throat body in the crowd shouts this time. You play a signature of yours, a triple bass intro to your personal second-favorite song. Like tying your shoes, the rhythm is so engraved into your mind, you could do it blindfolded. It’s a short intro, but fucking powerful nonetheless.

The more stable song starts out, even if the riffs are insane. Seventh starts the song, after your lead in, with a very catchy and original melody. This song is your barn burner, your jam session. It can go for the allotted three minutes, or it can go for fifteen if everyone takes a lengthy solo. Tonight, it takes seventeen minutes up. Octavia’s controversial addition to this chart is what makes it the best. After two choruses and three verses and two solos, the song breaks down to a really catchy little bassline. Instead of a heavy metal track, it’s more like ska. You considered a trombone solo, maybe a trumpet, but that might not be fitting. Medley said she knew a chick who played trombone, but, well, she’s not here now.

While the punky section is over, a little rest is given. The music rises slowly on a crescendoing drum roll. Then, the “bass drop,” as Octavia put it, comes. The tempo nosedives and the volume explodes. The triplets are excruciating on your calves. They burn a deep, good burn for the seventeen second long bass drum “roll”. The guitar solo is a dual one, Noteworth playing the upper harmony this time, all the while you and Octavia driving them on. The ending leaves an unrelinquished wanting in your heart, even if the organ is beating upwards of two hundred times a minute.

Seventh and Noteworth stumble and meander on stage after the marathon, sweating hard. Octavia bends over a little, spreading her feet just past shoulder-width. You, with a seat built in, just go half limp. The crowd, which you can only see the craniums of, looks almost just as beat.

“Danke,” Seventh String says tiredly into the mic. “That’s a favorite, as you all may or may not know.” He takes a deep breath, setting his guitar on a stand and removing the mic from it’s home. He takes a deep breath and continues conversing with the crowd, considerably endowed with it’s numerical composition. “We here at Fallen Is Babylawn Corporation would like to thank each and every one of you mighty masturbators for coming out tonight, for without you, we are nothing. And without us, you’re nothing. And you know what else, lovelies? You need us, that’s right. Indeed, you need us like food, because, we know you.” He turns and gestures at Octavia, sweat on her gorgeous face. “And we know you need tits. Well, we got ‘em. And we know you need dicks. Well, we got too many, please take one as you leave tonight.

“But, above aaaaaallll genitalia, we are certain you need this more than anything: Purgatory.” He stands up and replaces the microphone and throws his shirt down. “BECAUSE!” he shouts over some feminine screams. He’s so damn lanky, you can’t imagine why he’s the “cute one”. “Because, we know you need to shovel some more dirt onto your moral high ground!” A brief pause hangs in the air.

“No? Nah, fuck that, am I right? Anyway, a ticket lets you hear us once. An album, now THAT, ladies and gentlesquatches, will let you listen to us in the home, in the car, on the john, while you’re reading, while you’re fucking, while you’re jerking off, while you’re jerking off in the shower, while you’re at one of our shows, while you’re jerking off at one of our shows, while security tosses your perverted ass into an alley for jerking off in public, on a walk, while you’re jerking off, while you’re watching us jerk off, while we’re playing the damn music on the album-folks, fucking grab one! They’re like, twelve bucks and they’re still warm from the oven! Now, I remember while we were mixing the ingredients to make ours-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Even you can hear Liam as he shouts, his voice is man.

Seventh stands up fully and steps back some. “Fine, be that way!” He says with a little chuckle. “Fine, you want we should another song for ya?” He strolls back around and hangs up his mic, then finishes his water and grabs another. “Fuck I gotta piss. We’ll be concise for ya, but not TOO MUCH!”

“Bitch, eyo bitch,” Octavia says into her microphone, hardly shy on stage.

“The FUCK do you want, Octavia?” Seventh grabs his guitar again, Noteworthy cracks his neck.

“Hey, let’s play the cover we were doin’ two weeks ago. Exiter, wasn’t it?” A single voice in the crowd screams something, you can’t hear it.

“Fuck, the one with the... yeah, hell yeah!” He steps away from the mic and nods to Noteworth, and it seems he remembers the song just fine. You’ve actually just listened to it, making out and getting head from Octavia. You laugh to yourself a bit, catching Octavia’s wink. You return a big thumb. It looks like you’re all going to do the faux encore with a twelve minute masterpiece written by an older heavy metal band from right here in Equestria.

“Pretty ladies and the paling competition,” Seventh says in his announcer voice. “Please strap on your favorite phallus and ream your favorite butt to tonight’s last tune: Exiter, by Lunar Priest!”

A few people in the crowd explode, sending the rest tumbling in an uproar of cheering. Seventh String starts off with a riff from another song, but that’s the way Exiter started off in the practices. You get the tempo from Octavia’s accompaniment, then join in, officially starting the song.

The beginning gallop is easy enough, but still fucking killer. You allow yourself some time to admire Octavia’s slick body as she rides the wave. You let them play the broken chord four bars, then hit the road running. You don’t have to strain yourself with the intense section for long as the first verse begins.

“Rising to the heavens, postponing the dawn, looking like a shooting star, breaking through the mold! Darkening the horizon, damning all the land, no longer is she among us, eternal night’s at hand!

“Stay up for Exiter! Evil is her task, wake up for Exiter! Morning begs to ask...” The chord progression isn’t very easy to digest completely, but fun as hell to hear. That makes the music hard, but sound easy. Octavia’s adding all sorts of interesting stuff, too, like accents and things on different beats. You catch on to her patterns during the verse, and play on those some. Octavia moves a bit closer to you and slaps out her syncopates stuff even harder. You hear her eighth-note figures and raise her sixteenths, making a crazy sound appear. The rhythm doubles on itself when you hit the second and fourth sixteenth notes as Noteworth takes the first solo section. Just a classic arpeggio, but the melodies sound really cool.

What you and Octavia do there actually create a weird constant cycling of sixteenth notes. You strain and keep it up, staying atomically precise. Octavia stomps as the solo finishes and backs off, relenting to the previous pace. You gladly ease up on the snares and go back to riding along, neither pushing forward nor pulling back.

Octavia stands in front of her mic and sings backup for the next verse. Her bass playing doesn’t degrade one bit from perfect. God, she’s like a robot with how consistent she is. It’s truly inspiring. Octavia’s perfection is it’s own unintentional leadership. “Everything she touches, freezes in her grip. Let her see you sleeping, well ain’t that a gyp?! First you’ll snore and slumber, hump and light a cig, the very way you live your life will be forever dimmed! Wake up for Exiter! Damnation is her task, stay up for Exiter, here she comes now, DROP TO YOUR KNEES AND KISS HER FEET, IF YOU PLEASE!”

You pick up the silence left after the shout with a drum solo, only Octavia galloping through the chords with you. The next verse comes in like a comet. “Who is this new mare?! Where is she from? Exiter comes, for everyone. You’ll never see her, but you’ll feel the purple haze blaze through your hair!”

The crowd cheers as you move through to the next section, it’s damn impressive how the nearly religious chords make the stage shake. “She’s come by to break you all, make you fucking snap. Look up and see only the moon and stars. So much self-indulgence in her fairytale grin, complacency becomes prevalent, just like white lies.”

The chorus rings out again, and you can hear Seventh’s voice becoming a little hoarse. Octavia’s rings true with his, however, allowing him to back off a bit. Noteworth plays the next solo as Seventh gets a quick sip. Octavia chokes her hand up on the neck and plays an octave below, perfectly mirroring Noteworth. The solo is more or less exactly like it was on the original LP, but you’ve tweaked it for the next section. Seventh comes in, sweeping arpeggios in the chords. He even adds some pelvic thrusts as he wanks away, dominating the stage again. The solo comes to an end, but he keeps at it, tapping away some, letting Octavia lead the next verse.

“When she leaps among us, with her royal yell, all shall hear the ringing in their ears, a special brand of hell! Devouring the children, or the fable goes, only when there’s night and candy shall we not be her foes!

“Stand up for Exiter! Damnation is at hand, wake up for Exiter, here she comes now, DROP TO YOUR KNEES AND KISS HER FEET, IF YOU PLEASE!”

Solo follows solo and before you know it, Seventh gives the riff for the end of the song. Everyone waits until he’s done, then blasts out a unison rhythm in 9/8, just to fuck with everyone. You and Octavia lead Noteworth and Seventh String to speed up as they go. If you could see at all beyond the mini-jungle gym of metal in front of you, you think you’d see smoke coming off of the fret boards. Then, with one sudden bang, the song ends perfectly. The last chord rings throughout above the cheering crowd.

“FALLEN, IS, YOUR BABYLAWN!” Seventh shouts, kicking his stained shirt into the front rows. You try to stand a little to alleviate your knees, sending a pain up and down the side of your legs. Yeah, they’re a bit stiff. Your ears are ringing despite the plugs. You bend down and pick up a dropped stick when a white, sweat-traced garment lands on your head. You take Octavia’s blouse off your head and fling your shirt at her with your stick, missing by a few yards.

The crowd quiets voice by voice. That was easily the best set ever. The best part is that now, you can leave. You force yourself to stand and hear what Octavia has to say. You take the plug out of one ear and lean close to her, her mouth close enough to grace your hot ear with her breath.

“H-hey,” she nearly shouts over the ambient roar.

“Hey!” you shout back.

“C-can we get out of here? Like, now?! I, fuck, I...” Octavia looks around some. You follow her eye and notice some roadies waiting to rush out and grab some gear.

“See you fuckers two blocks down for the afterparty!” Seventh String shouts into the microphone. “We can’t wait to smoke your weed and drink your booze!” The house lights come on and some lame music comes on the speakers. The groupies rush out onto the hot stage and begin taking stuff back piece by piece. None are in a huge hurry, and all smell strongly of cannabis. You step back and pull Octavia backstage as some friends of Noteworth come onstage and mill around, planning. Seventh String helps pack and also hovers some, chatting, slapping hands and stuff.

Bass case in hand, Octavia drags you by the arm away from an acquaintance and adoring fan. Spin Disk, one of the other band’s guitarists and an amature percussionist. You sort of resent Octavia for pulling you away from him, but she makes up for it the second you step outside into the slightly cooler air. A fresh breath is very invigorating, nearly as much as a sudden and wet kiss. Octavia doesn’t even wait until you’re to her van to pounce. You catch her and lead the short way to her car. She furiously moves her lips with yours, shoving her tongue into your mouth and sucking hard on yours.

You help her get the rear door open and slide her instrument in, certain the set is in good hands. It’s Seventh String’s as much as yours.

Octavia slides out of her van and hugs you tight, grabbing your butt playfully. She laughs a little and walks around to the driver’s side. You hop in the passenger and head out to your neighborhood, more or less ignoring the big “HORE” written in red lipstick on the back window.

You put a hand on Octavia’s warm upper thigh as she drives. Your shirt is in back with hers, you look back and check. Before you know it, you arrive at Octavia’s place. You hop out and wait for Octavia to unlock the door, slipping back into your shirt,then pin her to the wall the second you’re inside.

Octavia moans in your constraint. “Got that protection on you, stud?” she whispers.

“No, it’s in my night stand.”

“We’re going to your place then, Slav.”

You pull her wrists to your side and share a deep, passionate french kiss with Octavia, feeling her melt in your arms. You taste her tongue properly this time, sharing your spit. Her delicious lips have their own unique flavor; it tastes like Octavia.

You don’t bother with the car since you’re only going to walk two blocks. Or, run. Octavia races you, her in sneakers and you in boots. She wins, only by a hair, but you’re less out of breath. Even after tonight’s intense workout, you’ve more endurance than her. You smile at that tidbit as you find your apartment key on the ring.

Octavia pulls you down to the couch. Luckily, you manage to kick the door closed on the way down. Her sweet lips carry a faint salty flavor from her sweat, and her body smells strongly of her natural odor. Octavia doesn’t smell bad. In fact her natural “musk” drives you mad with lust. The silence of your darkened living space is filled with moaning and smacking lips and slight sounds of friction of fabric running against fabric.

You roll over and nearly fall off the sofa, but catch yourself on your hand. “Follow me,” you say before Octavia can complain. She leaves her blouse on the couch and follows you to your bedroom in just her pants and sweater vest.

You open up your computer and play the last album that was playing, a favorite band. The music picks up mid-song on some quality speakers.

“Holy shit,” Octavia says, sitting on your lap, making your bed creak just a little. “This, is this STARS?”

“Yeah, it is-” Octavia pushes you down onto the covers. She smiles seductively down at you.

“Good choice,” she whispers. “I’m still riding a high from the show, Slavik.” She moves her body back and forth over yours, slowly moving to the brutal metal. “Ah, oh my god,” she closes her eyes and moans as you lift your leg against hers, your knee gently pressing into her sex. Octavia sits up on it, biting her lip as she grinds on your knee a bit. She’s on fire down below. You play with her like this as Octavia removes her top, then nearly tears off her bra. Octavia’s great tits fall out bouncing. She comes down again to let you catch her breasts and squeeze and pinch and bite them. Octavia’s moaning is too sexy as you suck on her beautiful breasts. She groans softly as her hand reaches to your crotch, cupping and pressing into your genitals. She undoes the zipper and massages the underside of your erect girth with her palm through the underwear.

Octavia pushes back and looks you in the eye as she licks her palm, then goes down to the ground. You sit up as she kneels before you. Octavia quickly pulls your pants off and then your underwear, leaving you in your shirt. She sighs heavily with hunger as she spies your full package. She lowers her head and kisses the base, licking all around it.

“Mmmmmm...” Octavia strokes and licks your whole organ hungrily as the music plays on a softer, sadder song. Magenta eyes hold yours as Octavia purses her lips around the tip. She holds your head in her lips and licks the thick, bulging head, lightly squeezing your sack in her hand. Octavia opens wide and sucks more of you into her mouth and pulls back, sucking hard. She goes down and sucks as she pulls back a few more times, the sensation is unbelievable. You lean back some and cup her head in one hand, letting her work. Octavia pushes her head down far and circles your cock with her whole tongue, taking extra time to play and suck on your head.

How Octavia is such a master cock sucker is a mystery, but you’re incredibly happy to have her work her magic. The music puts her in a weird trance, the melodic changes like signals to a sleeper cell. Octavia drools all over your hard, thick member. Her slimy spit falls from her lifted lips in strands to your wet dick. She lets them fall and jerks you off fast, her thumb and first digit squeezing your head with every downstroke.

When most of her saliva has fallen to her hand or her play thing, Octavia looks up, panting, her face a crimson. “Does that feel good, Slavik?”

You nod and sit up taller. “Fucking unbelievable, Tavi. I’m actually getting sorta close already.”

“Ahmm, oh god, tell me more.” Octavia looks up and gulps, staring at you and stroking you off swift and gripping hard. “Tell me about how I’m going to make you shoot your cum all over me!”

“Fuck, Octavia,” you say, suddenly close to climax. Her soft, wet fingers provide an amazing balance of friction and pressure. “Yeah, your hand is amazing. Suck it again, I love the way your spit looks when you let it fall like that. Ah, yeah, yeah go as deep as you can. It’s okay if you gag.”

Octavia can’t breath as your tip presses into her esophagus. She can only gurgle a little bit and go even deeper, filling her throat. She’s so tight and warm, until she comes up again. Octavia gasps for air, leaving her lips open wide. Spit clings to her face and your cock, creating several shimmering bridges. She makes a kissy face , joining the strands into one thick one. She picks it up with a wet hand and catches it in her mouth. She seems to savor the taste a little before kissing your head again, squirting her saliva onto you again. Most of her thick, slimy spit rises into the air as she pulls away. Octavia plays some more with her food, spitting and slurping and never swallowing.

“Yeah, fuck, that’s hot, Octavia. God, wanna make me cum? I’m so fucking close, where do you want me to cum?”

“M-mouth-?” Octavia says through a thick mouthful of meat. She sucks the head hard, gently moaning and going down again. She pulls back on your cock with your lips rapidly, stroking most of the length in a seemingly practiced motion. The sensation is unbearable. You place your right palm on her cranium groan as she goes on, fellating you to the finish.

“O, O you’re amazing, I’m gonna bust, ah, yeah just a little mo-oh... wait, waitwait, hold up!” Octavia lets go and swallows hard just before you reach the peak. Your cock throbs hard, but only leaks out a little cum. You hold back the sensations as much as you can, but it’s tough. You win, somehow, and hold off. Not cumming makes your balls ache fiercely.

“Sorry, Slav,” Octavia says, touching her neck. “I couldn’t take it, I, I just want more! I... uh, I also learned that ‘edging’ will make you ejaculate more.”

“From fucking where?”

Octavia moves her lips gently against the throbbing base of your shaft apologetically. “Um...” she says, humming and kissing your wet cock. “Internet.”

“But why?” you ask, leaning your head back as Octavia groans, sucking on your balls. She doesn’t even mind the short hairs.

“B-because,” she stammers, slobbering all over your genitals. “I, the taste, it... because.” Octavia grabs your dick and rubs the underside against her cheek. She strokes the defeated softness out until you feel ready to burst again. “Do, do you wanna shoot your cum in my mouth?”

“Fuck me, Octavia, when did you get so dirty?” You grin and sit up some, encouraging Octavia to continue.

She seems to take it as being put off, unfortunately. “I... I thought you would like it. Do you want me to be qu-”

“No, no not at all! Octavia, you’re so fucking sexy. Yeah, O, I wanna bust a huge load right in your cute little mouth. What do you wanna do with my cum, Octavia?”

The bassist perks up a little, smiling as she squeezes your throbbing organ by the base. “Swallow?” she says softly. Octavia moans aloud as she licks the base again. She just loves doing it, it seems.

“If you want! I’ve got tissues, just in case, so no worries.” You lean far back and knock a nearly empty box of white tissues down from a suspiciously convenient shelf. Octavia giggles some as you bring it to your side.

Octavia sucks at the base of your cock again, unashamed at flicking her tongue up and down the bulging underside. “Mmmm, alright, love. You getting close again?”

“Yeah, yeah. Octavia, work your magic, make the pain go away,” you facetiously plead. Octavia grins wide as she goes down again. Your unbelievably rigid member disappears into her wet, hot mouth again, making you feel that warm, trembling feeling in your core again. You buck your hips just the slightest as she finds her quick pace again. Octavia moans around your shaft, vibrating it some as her tongue caresses the sensitive bulge on the underside. You feel your sack clench up a bit just before your dick twitches.

No need for a warning as you cum hard. Octavia doesn’t slow her bobbing head one bit, maybe even speeding up some. Thick spunk shoots right into her mouth in an angry volley. You do your best to stay silent as Octavia seals her lips around the tip and strokes your slimy stick. She moans and quivers some, grabbing her breast hard as she tastes your sperm.

Octavia sucks out the last drops of hot jizz and leans back on her haunches, touching a finger to her lips. She clamps her eyes shut and wears a grimace as a gulp can be heard over the music. Octavia opens her eyes and looks at the ceiling, then tilts her head back and swallows again.

“Aaah, I got it,” she says with tainted pride. “W-was it too kinky, Slavik?”

You unclench your hands, whose muscles you had no idea were tensed, and touch Octavia’s hair. “No way, Tavi.” She blushes deeper at the pet name. “That was extremely sexy. Uh, just don’t expect a kiss.”

Long black hair hits your hand and knee as she smacks her palm with her face. Octavia gets up and sits on your lap, moaning just a bit as you kiss her neck. Octavia giggles softly as you grace her ticklish spot on her hip, sliding a hand up her slightly sweaty back as you lay her down. You take one large, round globe in your hand and squeeze hard, feeling her squirm with anticipation.

“G-go get some water, before I eat your pussy out for hours.” You nearly shove Octavia off of you. She gets up, reluctantly, staggering at first.

“Wait, Octavia,” you say, getting up behind her. You kick your pants aside and grab her close. “You look like you’re about to die from an unsated libido. Get naked, start warming up. I’ll be right back with some liquid refreshment.”

Octavia just smiles and sits down, sliding her hands over her chest. You watch just for a second, then take off in the buff.

You toss your shirt into a dirty clothes hamper and take the stairs two at a time as you head for the kitchen. You gulp down two glasses of water, replacing fluids you just now notice you’ve lost. It must have been a sizeable load. You grab three reused bottles of water and take the stairs three at a time back up.

When you return, Octavia’s sitting on her side in just her lacy black panties on your bed. You nearly drop your water in shock. There’s a saying that roughly goes “a woman’s body is a temple”. Octavia’s is a god damned perfect palace of precise proportions. Her round breasts are full, soft, youthfully perky. The way they hang slightly brings about a physical beauty that defies your first attempts at rationalization. Her sizeable chest accentuates her slender, long waist. You hunger to touch her sides almost as her tight, round ass, her shapely thighs and her pristine, and now wet womanhood.

“Oh, hey Slavik.” Octavia says with obviously false causality.

“H-hi,” you manage to say back. You gulp at your heart, hoping it will fall out of your throat and back to your chest. “G-got some water...”

“Danke,” she says laying down and stretching. You find your leg’s controls and make for your bed as she flips over and puts her great ass in the air, rolling forward and stretching like a cat. It’s adorably sexy. On the way, you change the harsh death metal to something a little more pleasant. You change the track from “Fungi Explosion” to “Darkwood Weir”.

“Oooh, that feels good,” Octavia says, stretching again. You set the water aside and kneel behind her, fully erect once again. You just grip her hips from behind, pulling her butt to your hips. Octavia yelps a little, then giggles, moaning softly and encouraging you to slide your cock up and down between her round cheeks. She looks back and bites her lip. “That feels even better, though.”

“Stand up on your knees, please” you say softly, holding Octavia close from behind as she does so. You spoon with her for a moment, holding her bare breasts in your hands and kissing her neck. She shudders and moans to your exploring fingers slipping further and further south, your other hand still holding one of her perfect breasts.

Octavia’s a waterfall down there. Her upper thighs are coated with her warm, slick, strong juices. You pull at her panties and pinch her sensitive, ticklish nipple. Octavia moves her nice ass around, grinding right into your girth, lightly coating it with some sweat and vaginal juices. You quickly adjust your rod so that it rests under Octavia’s wetness, the anatomy making it lift up into her flatly. You exhale as Octavia suddenly closes her thighs, trapping your cock in a hot, soft, moist embrace.

“Feel good, Slav?”

“Not bad, love,” you whisper in Octavia’s ear. You can’t help but groan softly as Octavia’s warm, slick thighs love on your manhood. Your hips move on their own, pushing into Octavia’s round ass and stroking her wet, hot panties with your helmet. The soft, satiny fabric does nothing to contain her overflowing womanhood.

Octavia reads your mind and bends over onto all fours. She flips over and rolls onto her side, reaching for some water. You don’t waste one millisecond. Octavia giggles as you pull her panites off. Her wetness stings your nostrils with a strong, strong scent. You exhale hotly onto her lips, absolutely sure she can feel every molecule of air passing over her petals. You drag your lips along hers, her little clitoris already hard to the touch. You lick her nub, eliciting a gurgle of surprise.

“Pf-gl-avik!” Octavia sputters, spitting out a mouthful of water onto herself. “I was d-drinking!”

“Sorry, O, I was eating,” you say with a wink. You look up at her apologetically, holding her nice, shapely thighs around your head. “You’re sensitive, I know,” you say to Octavia as you sneak a hand up along the underside of her upper leg. “The last thing I’d wanna do is make you... cum!”

You bite your lip and push your finger into Octavia’s pussy. She screams in surprised delight as your first digit sinks in far past the second knuckle, writhing around as Octavia squirms feebly. You would have her by the short hairs, if she wasn’t clean shaven. You lick her belly and wrestle her down, forcing your finger all the way inside. Octavia moans and twists around in pleasure, her hot twat is a wet fire around your digit.

“Yeah, ah, Slavik, that feels great...” Octavia churns the blankets up with her arms and legs. Your manhood is yearning for some moisture as you begin to force in a second finger. In her blissfully catholic state, Octavia’s throat catches cutely in pained joy, her mouth agape and smiling from ear to ear. You drink in Octavia’s facial and bodily reactions to two fingers like ambrosia.

“Ah-!” she finally says when you push harder into her vice-like tightness, Octavia’s hot, ribbed walls gushing with her juices.

You pull out your fingers and give her senses a break, even if it seems she just wanted more.

“You alright, Octavia?” you manage to ask, your entire being consumed with conflicting lusts. You urge to primally mount her hard, fuck her raw, cum in and on all of her. However, your soul, your heart just wants to take her slow, make Octavia reach orgasm after shaking, sweating, screaming, squirting orgasm. Both images make you hungry for the other.

“Yeah, Slav,” Octavia speaks softly. “That, that was great, b-but thank you for stopping. It, kind of hurt.”

“Bad?” you ask. Octavia moves to your side hugging you close. She nods, rubbing a wet cheek on your chest. “T-that bad?” you whisper.

“No,” she replies, sitting up. “I, it was, it hurt, a... quite a bit. But it’s gone now, it’s okay. I’m alright, really. Come on, Slav... you still, you’re still rock hard.”

“Yeah, how can I not be?” you say with a wink, licking the slime off your fingers.

Octavia takes your wet digits and sucks on them individually, hard. With a free hand, she strokes your strong member slowly. “Ah~” she says with a sexy little moan, letting your fingers pop out of her mouth. Octavia draws you in and kisses you deeply, sucking on your tongue when you offer it. In one motion, you find yourself under Octavia. She’s straddling you, holding her dripping twat over your wide chest. You reach under her thighs and encourage her to sit on your face.

You take a deep breath as Octavia lowers herself down. Her nice pussy smells so hot and tastes so good. You find yourself humping at air as you roll your tongue back and forth against her pink. You grip Octavia’s slender hips and suck on her clit hard.

“Aaah, Slav...” Octavia whispers, gripping your short brown hair and squeezing her thighs lightly around your face, lifting herself up. “S-so... so good, but can you finger me again? I wanna feel you hit my g-spot like you did, that was too great.”

“Like this?” you whisper back up at her, sucking on her clit, sliding your first finger inside. The position is a bit awkward, but you manage to turn your wrist in a way so that you can sweep back and forth, covering her special orgasmic place.

“YES!” Octavia cries out, undulating her hips back and forth on your face. Her fluids leak all over your chin and neck, soaking your stubble. The brunette cries out some more in pure joy as your wrist begins to tire. Octavia leans back some, letting you breath and relax.

You sit up as Octavia kneels next to you. She immediately pins you down and kisses you deeply, unashamed as she tastes her own juice. Octavia moans a little as you hold her breast and breaks away. She mops up some of her juices from your neck and chin, then swallows hard, showing off her throat to you.

Octavia straddles you again, laying her hips against yours, spreading her legs wide. Her hot body is all on yours. Octavia kisses your lips once, seductive and slow. With just the faintest bit of breath, Octavia whispers: “Fuck me, now.”

You slide your hands down Octavia’s back to her butt and pull her up to you for a deep kiss. Her firm, round ass is yours to command. After feeling her tongue and the heat of her mouth, Octavia pants hard and sits up, her wet twat laying right on your girth. Her soft petals squish under her weight.

“Let me get the rubbers, love,” you say to Octavia, lifting your hips gently and pressing up into her pussy with the base of your shaft. It feels natural, so good you can’t wait to get it in.

Octavia reluctantly gets off, likely getting off just like you at the rubbing. Your dick is crystalline as you get up and go to your dresser. The music continues as you grab the brand new package of twenty large condoms.

“Slav,” Octavia says softly, sliding back to the wall. “H-how many times did you wanna do it tonight?”

“Oh, I’ve got a crate downstairs, this is just gonna be until we go to the fetish room.”

A stare, harsh, then melting. Octavia smirks and unwinds her undue tension. “You’re getting a hang of that humor thing, love. But really, why twenty?”

You kneel down in front of Octavia and put your arms on her knees, then your head on your arms. “It was either three or twenty, and the price wasn’t much different. So why not twenty?” You sit up slightly and wind up your muscles, placing a strong palm on Octavia’s knee, the other hand still holding the package. “We’ll just go one by one, see how long it takes to run out.”

You carefully tear one of the dark-red packages open and roll it on carefully. It doesn’t go all the way to the hilt, despite it’s acclaimed “large” size. Octavia mentions this, and all you can offer is a surprised and indifferent shrug. You move to her again and place both hands on her knees.

Octavia bites her lip as you pry her knees open. You give her a kissy face and go down on her again. Octavia immediately grabs your head and rolls her hips into your face as you lick her pussy again. Her shakes and moans and giggles get you harder than hard. The cardboard box full of rubbers is lost in a mish-mash of blankets and limbs and saliva as you put a finger deep into a twat.

Octavia quivers some as you rest your head on her stomach. You stroke her thigh as her legs spread wide in the stuffy room, her great ass caressed by the soft, freshly stained sheets. You kiss Octavia’s stomach and stand back up on your knees. The effort is taxing.

“S-slav,” Octavia says in a hush. “Faster...”

You can’t help but beam and look into her eyes, Octavia’s round breasts rising and falling with her shallow breathing. Accelerating is easy, now. Octavia moans louder and deeper as you move your finger along her g-spot, your thumb compressing her clit. In seconds, Octavia’s twitching lightly and her nipples harden. “O-oh, oh yeah, Slavik, right there!”

Octavia arches her back as your finger becomes a blur, fucking Octavia as hard and fast as pleasurable. Octavia’s shoulders shake violently, then her whole body spasms, her hot, tight twat clamping down around your finger. You can’t even fully appreciate her orgasm before she squirts a long line of almost clear fluids all over your arm and bed and crotch. The hot fluid doesn’t have time to cool before your dick is bathed in another wash of Octavia’s girlcum. She shouts again and squirts another time. You move your rod in the way, your hard abdomen catching the rest like a backboard. Her essence drips into your cupped free hand as she spurts a fourth and smaller time. Octavia shivers some and squirts one last little shot, falling short and adding to the wet spot.

“F-fuck,” Octavia can barely whisper as you continue stroking her g-spot. Your finger was squeezed hard, but it still felt great. “Y-yes, oh my fucking god... Slavik, I’m so sorr-”

“Thank you!” you nearly shout. “Octavia, can you do it again?”

She nods, smiling and resting her head back. “Glad you love it, Scratchy hates squirting.”

“Fucking how? Come on, cum again!” you find your volume too high, but you can hardly help it. Octavia giggles a sorry, sad little laugh as you suck on her sticky clit. “Get some water if you need to, by the way.”

“Dank-oh, thanks...” Octavia goes mostly limp again to your finger.

You mastubate Octavia gently but quickly, touching her cervix and pulling out to the tight entrance. Her back arches in no time flat.

“G-god, yes!” Octavia softly screams. “Yes! Mmmmmore, more Slav, y-yeah... fuck, I’m gonna cum again. W-when you do that... that... that, so good, when you do... that... harder... push into, it... harder, yeah, yeah, yes! Oh, FUCK me!”

Octavia’s hair flies around in a messy whirlwind as your curl your finger up on every downstroke, pulling on her spongy little spot with every movement. Octavia sits up, making it a little more difficult to suck her clitoris, but she pushes your face away anyway.

“God, Slav, I’m gonna cum again, hard... where should I, s-”

“Squirt on my cock,” you hoarsely whisper. Octavia just smiles and sighs, her sweet breath gracing your filthy lips again.

You smile back at her and carefully prod her clit with your erection, managing to finger her at the same time. Octavia grabs an ergonomic marker from it’s cup on your desk and sticks it inside herself, after wiping and licking and seductively sucking it clean. You grip your shaft hard and slowly stroke as Octavia clenches her eyes and teeth, sitting up, stimulating her special spot for you. She makes the grey plastic tube turn to a blur inside herself, but slows down in defeat after just a little bit.

“C-can’t do it,” she nearly whimpers, her voice carries a tinge of pain on it. You just sit and watch her try, drinking in her edging pleasure. Seeing her so close is a bittersweet delight. After thirty solid seconds of watching Octavia rub her clit and fuck her pussy for you, you cave and give her a finger. Octavia smiles for a second as you lick the dirty marker clean, then drop it. She lifts her thighs over yours to let you get closer. Octavia rubs her clitoris furiously as you dip your finger inside again. Just ten seconds after you touch her, she seems on the verge of exploding. This angle, this glorious angle, isn’t going to work.

Octavia nearly screams as you roll back and pull her over you. Her cries of surprise and pleasure are muffled by the sheets near your head. You can hear her moans and her breathing again as Octavia lifts her head and cums. Your finger digs into her spongy little spot hard, forcing her to squirt immediately. A long pair of spurts come out and hit your protected rod, drenching the fake lubricant with real stuff. You move Octavia’s quaking hips down and force her to spurt all over your length at point-blank range. The heat comes through the rubber with no problem at all.

Spent again, Octavia goes limp and lays awkwardly on your torso. You stroke your throbbing organ until she comes back, her hot, sweaty body too good to keep still.

“J-just one more,” she whispers, breathing deeply. “One more, then we leave for my place so I can brush my teeth.”

“Works for me,” you reply with a tender kiss on her neck. “Then we can use your fetish basement. Mine’s a bit dirty at the moment, I’ve got to get the gimps to tidy up this week.”

Octavia shuts you up with another kiss, then looks into your eyes with her gorgeous, sincere, precious magenta rings that shine with a beauty that can only come from within.

“It was funnier the first time, Slav,” Octavia says softly. She lets her head fall and rest against yours as she stands on all fours, obviously tired. You let Octavia collect herself, her precious girlcum drying on your tool. You can’t help but jerk off as Octavia’s juice lubricates you. Your hand feels great, but you need the real thing.

“Octavia,” you whisper. “Do you want me to take over?” You lift your rod up until the tip graces her clitoris ever so softly, making her jump a little.

Octavia sighs deeply, her warm breath blowing gently past your ear. “Sure, Slavik. Take me any way you want. I’m yours, completely. Just, be gentle, please.”

You kiss Octavia’s tender neck again and roll her over, pinning her down with your body. You can taste her juices still on her lips. Her round breasts push into your chest until you sit up and stand on your hands, looking up and down her upper body.

No words are spoken as you push your tool into Octavia’s tight pussy. She closes her eyes and tenses up as your cock slips in, further and further. You feel her cervix just before your tool can go all the way into Octavia. You sit still and let your manhood fill her up, her soft pussy squeezing the base especially hard.

You can’t hold in a small moan at the pleasure pulling out brings. Every single inch of your girth is sucked on by Octavia’s tight, wet, hot vaginal walls. You push in once your head begins to slip out. Penetrating again is unbearably great fun.

“Oh god...” Octavia mumbles as you begin to move consistently. This position isn’t easy on your arms, but it’s still very fun, extremely intimate. You look down and watch Octavia accept you in over and over. You speed up, watching her wetness coat your length with every plunge. Soon enough, you find yourself breathing harder and moving faster. Sex with Octavia, so far, is miles better than the best you’ve imagined.

After a minute or so of closeness and slight sweat, your knee slips off the side of the bed. Octavia smiles up cutely as you stand, still mostly inside her.

“N-no,” Octavia says, grabbing your shoulders. She clasps her hands together behind your neck and lifts her hips some. “Do me like this,” she barely whispers.

You peck her lips once before standing and fulfilling her request. Octavia’s cute, smiling eyes close shut in ecstasy as the heavy music drives your blood, fueling your muscles to fuck her deeply. You speed up more and more, feeling all of Octavia’s tight, hot, wet insides. Even through the thin rubber, it feels so great. The sensations grow and grow in greatness, especially when you pull out and penetrate again. Octavia’s legs curl around your posterior and tense up every time you push into her. You imagine the visage of you in her, going from waist deep to just the tip and back in with force. Her tight fleshy walls yield to you with a considerable fight, but she loves it just like you. Octavia’s insides are so hot, it saps your energy. You suck air, not caring if Octavia sees you sweat.

“O, I’m getting close,” you pant softly, humping Octavia hard. Octavia just reacts with a tense moan, you think she might be near as well. On an impulse, you pick her up, carefully hugging Octavia as she giggles with amused delight. You feel her weight in your tired limbs and you absolutely love it. She’s still wrapped around your body for dear life.

Octavia kisses your cheek, neck and ear, then whispers. “Cum inside, baby. I’m... I came at least twice, an-ah...” she trails off as you lift her up and lower her down, stroking yourself with a one-hundred-twenty pound body. “I’m so close, too!” Octavia whispers in a tense little whisper.

“I’m gonna cum, Octavia!” You pant hard, hugging her close and humping into her as she rises and falls with you. You spread your feet some as your knees shake before climax. You pull out to her entrance, then let Octavia fall hard onto your rod.

“Ah!” Octavia’s spasming and short scream send you over the edge in an instant. You feel your muscles turn to jelly for a bit right when you explode. You regain your strength and then some as you hold Octavia close, humping just a bit as your cock spews thick spurts of cum. You grunt as Octavia shakes in your embrace, her nails digging harshly into your back. The explosion of senses fries your brain. Octavia shudders in your arms, her tight pussy shaking with her entire body, stroking you inadvertently. The feeling of Octavia on your tool is so great, so fantastic, it draws your orgasm out for at least twice as long.

You relax at last, spent. “Ah, easy, girl.” You kiss Octavia’s tense neck and lay her down gently. She still shivers gently, a wide grin on her face.

“Oh my fucking god...” she whispers, staring past the ceiling. You pull out and watch her face light up, then her eyes close with content. You gladly roll over and hold her as she comes down from her mountain top. Her lower lips are fucked red, but not bleeding or too raw. Octavia probably got more than she bargained for.

You kiss her cheek and pull the blanket over her, glad the next album in the rotation is made of softer stuff.

“Mmm, thanks so much, love,” Octavia says, nuzzling into your embrace and tucking herself in tight under the heavy blanket.

“You’re so welcome, Tavi.” You pull yourself to Octavia’s slightly sweaty back, leaving the pink-tinted rubber on for now. You feel tonight pulling hard at your eyelids as you smell Octavia’s soft hair in your face once again.

“Love you, Slavik.”

“Love you too, O.”

Despite the fuzzy feeling in your heart, you can’t deny yourself a few touches of Octavia’s tender sex. She sighs and moans some, heat returning, but you just tease for now.

Your hand slides up Octavia’s sticky skin to rest on her stomach. It moves on it’s own to her groin again, and there it rests for several hours.

A blast beat gently pushes you off of the comfy cliff of sleep and into the tumultuous valley of waking. You roll over and find the floor, face first. You pick yourself up and slowly remember who you are, again, and kill the music. The computer screen murders any night vision you had, rendering your dark room more or less pitch black. You turn on a desk lamp by feel, carefully avoiding several empty cans.

You scratch all over, still nude from last night. The constricting rubber on your manhood, as well as the general stench of the room, makes you smile a tired little proud grin. You run a dirty hand through your short brown hair and answer nature’s call. You’re tempted just to hop in the shower now, but Octavia definitely would appreciate a hot bath as well. Maybe more, after her protein shake.

“Heh... gross.” You meander back to the bed in the not so dim light and find Octavia, stirring gently. You get down and get in bed. She flips over and sighs, reaching a capable hand out to you. Gladly, you let her grab you and pull herself close. Just as her hand traces your chest, Octavia stops and looks up, shocked. Her eyes meet yours, she’s paralyzed.

“Octavia?”

A brief pause and a few blinks pass.

“God dammit, Slav,” Octavia says with a light tone, exhaling with a soft, relieved chuckle.

You hug her close, and she immediately kisses your neck and hugs you back. “Sorry,” she whispers with a little kiss on the ear. “I was expecting a girl to climb in bed.”

“Oooh,” you simply say lightly, happily letting Octavia lay on you. She moves her leg over yours and lifts her head. You smile at her, and she smiles back. You touch her, she touches you, Octavia’s eyes are gorgeous this close.

“Octavia, I love your eyes.” You stroke her cheek and watch them watch you.

“Aw,” she says in a quasi mocking way. “That really is very sweet, Slavik. But what time is it? I actually want to go home and clean up, maybe stay up and watch the sunrise.”

“Is that the tradition?” you ask, feeling her nice round ass, but not groping.

“Mmhmmm,” Octavia nods. “Amazing sex, too. Come on, do you think you have some more fight in you, tiger?”

“For you, eh...” you sit up and pull Octavia down, rolling over in a lazy wrestling match. You pin her face down, ass up. “I could go all night, Octavia.”

“Ah! No fair!” Octavia wiggles out and sits back, slightly exposing her womanhood to you. You move to kiss her lower lips, finding a still damp spot.

You open your mouth to speak, but it’s dry. Painfully so. You lean back and find some water you brought earlier. Octavia gratefully takes a couple of swallows as well. You find your mind much sharper with some water in you. Octavia agrees to a short makeout that turns into a quickie in no time. You’ve barely got the rubber on before her nose touches your belly again. You convince, or suggest, that you form a sixty-nine, so you can share her oral fervor.

Fortunately, you’re a hair more skilled, and she yields first. Octavia pretends to be reluctant at least, making you kiss and lick her legs before she parts them. You drive your finger deep in her a few more times before pushing your rod inside her femness.

The sight of Octavia’s pristine petals parting for your pulsing pink-tinted penis is indescribably erotic. Octavia confesses her love to watch as well, so you lean back and let her. You consider taking pictures, strongly, but decide against even asking. The mental image and sensations are photographic enough.

Octavia’s tight twat sucks at your girth hard again, making you grit your teeth fairly soon. She’s riding it now, lifting herself up and dropping down, leaving you to just lift your hips to help. Sweat covers her body, Octavia’s slick skin reflects the lamplight gloriously. She has to lean forward after a bit, her hips spasming some, her breath tense.

“Oh god, oh my god, Slavik...” Octavia trails off as you take over nearly completely, fucking her hard. You grab her round ass in both hands and hump faster and harder, driving your tip home inside Octavia. “Oh god, almost, almost again...” Octavia mumbles a little more, but it can’t be heard. Her nails dig into your shoulder some as you hump her hard, your own muscles aching.

Luckily, Octavia begins moaning and shaking like crazy, her pussy vibrating around your rigid manhood. You just push deep, deep into Octavia and try as hard as you can not to cum. The slight resistance makes the release so much more powerful. Even if it’s the fourth time tonight, depending on how you analyze tonight, this orgasm feels as good or better than the rest. With a great effort, you push with every shot, feeling your cock shoot out every individual white snake. Even if this volley is more concise than the rest, it feels just as amazing. The climax’s resolution leaves you in a resolving fatigue. Resisting sleep seems a futile struggle you find little want for. Octavia, however, has a different agenda.

“Come on, stud,” she whispers in your ear. “Get your tight ass up, we have to stay up all night.”

You throw aside the little pencil leads on your eyelashes and take a deep breath. Octavia lands a kiss on your cheek as you touch her bare body, her hot tunnel of love still warming your waning erection.

“No...” you moan, hungry for sleep. “You. Do the thing, I don’t wanna.”

“Get up, Slavik!” Octavia says with a little peck on the cheek. The bed creaks in the silence at the end of the album as Octavia fishes your half-flacid phallus out and stands up.

“But why?” you moan, rolling over.

“Be-CAUSE!” Octavia shouts, pulling you off the bed by your feet. You’re jolted awake as your ass is taken by gravity to the carpet. You catch yourself just in time with your hands on the bed behind you, your feet on the carpet ahead. Octavia giggle as you get up.

“Come on, Slavik,” she says with her sexy-weird way of saying your name. “I really think you’ll love this. We’ll stay up until dawn, just the two of us, doing... well, whatever.” Octavia sucks herself to your chest as she helps you up. You hold her tight and plant a kiss on her forehead.

“We can get a little coffee,” she starts off softly. “Then we’ll take a little shower. I, uh, you kinda reek, sorry.”

“Don’t be, I do,” you inject.

“Mmm, then we’ll watch a movie, play a game or something, and go up to the annex to watch the sunrise over city hall.”

Octavia turns her head and kisses your neck, then stands back to look you in the eye. Her beautiful orbs are as alluring as ever. “Have you ever seen a Ponyville sunrise, Slavik?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “I was up all night at a convenience store on the south side for a while as a seconds job. I hated it, but not the work. I got so lonely, staying up all night alone, sleeping in the morning, alone, and working afternoons, usually talking to no one at the plant.”

“Oh Celestia, I know how terrible loneliness can be, Slavik,” Octavia adds, hugging you close.

“I know, Octavia. I know,” you whisper back, truly grateful for her embrace. You can’t help but hug her tighter and tighter. You know all about her high school days. The studying and tutoring and tutor sessions to attend never ended. After a lengthy pause, Octavia’s warmth reminds you of the cozy joys of sleep.

She breaks away before your eyelids begin to glue together again, thankfully. “Come,” Octavia whispers, holding your hands and looking over you body, groaning so softly as her eyes grace your entrapped penis. “Put some pants on and we’ll get naked at my place. Hm, I can’t wait to get my sheets dirty.”

Octavia kisses you briefly before bending over to grab her shirt. You watch her round ass as she does so, then move to grab your things. You do, however, clean off your dick before getting dressed.

After covering up hastily, you turn off your computer and lead Octavia down the stairs. You offer to bring what snacks you may have, but Octavia waves you off, claiming to have something much better.

The two of you, tired and hungry for more, walk closely to Octavia’s. In the open air, you grab Octavia’s fantastic ass hard, making her jump and yank on your waistband. You latch onto her for support and hook your fingers into Octavia’s panties, then pull up slowly. Now nearly at Octavia’s door, she leans on the tree out front and lets you play with them. She’s hot and wet again, already. You kiss Octavia deeply and let her kiss you as your hand slides down into her tight dress pants.

“Ah,” she moans softly in the warm summer night. “Oh Celestia, Slavik, that took no time at all. Fuck me inside, we’ll fold out the sleeper out of the couch and fuck like rabbits.”

Octavia smiles and laughs softly as you offer a slick finger to her. She takes it and licks it, maintaining eye contact. Once her slime is all over her tongue, Octavia grabs your face and spits it back into your mouth. You regretfully swallow her saliva and pussy juice before savoring the taste.

Octavia’s door flies open in a fury as you nearly crash through it, carrying Octavia to the couch. The cushions are off and the bed is out and made in just a little more time than it takes to get naked again. Octavia moans and kicks around in the soft silence, feeling the softness of the sheets and blanket the two of you laid out for tonight. As you kiss your way down to her wet slit again, Octavia fumbles with the tv’s remote. A childish song blasts through the surround sound, then is muted as quickly as it comes.

“Sorry, Sl-ah...” Octavia scrolls and scrolls as you suck on her little clitoris, your cock hard as a stone once again. This time, it’s nearly painful being erect.

A heavy song plays now, a hauntingly complex chord progression ringing true through the dimmed room. The television’s light is the only illumination to be had, and looking up from between Octavia’s lovely legs shows the image of her laying on a pile of throw pillows. Her milky, just barely browned skin is warm, yet looks icy in the grey light.

As soon as you notice her beauty, again, Octavia pushes your head back. “Let me taste your cock,” she whispers, “then let’s fuck again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you softly say to her, the music really bringing up deep longing for Octavia’s intimacy.

Octavia smiles as you stand on the bed, casting a stark shadow across her. The reflected light shows just enough of her silhouette for you to watch as her luscious lips wrap around your throbbing dick. Her warm breath and soft lips make you groan with pleasure instantly. Her lips smacking, Octavia moans out, thoroughly enjoying it as well.

“Ah,” she gasps, stroking your long cock. “Fuck me, Slavik. Do me, mount me, ram me, nail me, rail me, fill me, thrill me, dick me, rut me, I wanna feel your huge cock just ream me.” Octavia pants softly and kisses your cockhead, then sits back. “Too much?”

You look down at her as the song breaks down into a very tasty and dark-roasted metal riff. “Bend over, Octavia.”

With a huge smile and a cute shrug, Octavia turns around lays on the pile of pillows, collecting and positioning them just right as you slip in a finger. Octavia whimpers a little as you slip in a second, but she just lets out a big sigh and rests her head on her arms. You clean your fingers off with your mouth and grab your shaft. Octavia’s taste has become very familiar to you by now.

“Mmmmm...” Octavia moans under an amazing section. Whatever band is playing, it’s too perfect. You push into Octavia’s tight pussy, your thick head slipping in. Her wet labia isn’t nearly as wet as the tight love tunnel inside. Your bare cock flies in in an instant, squeezed hard by Octavia’s wet, hot, ribbed walls. The throbbing resumes, painfully surging through your cock in constantly random jolts.

You pant through the fantastic pain, finding a quick rhythm to hump Octavia with. She begins to whine in delight as your hips smack her round, tight ass. The songs continue, now under the two of you in volume. Octavia begins moaning like crazy and looking over her shoulder, breathing hard and watching your strong body pump into hers. Her eyes shine in the little light there is.

As your throbbing member begins to twitch with the first pangs of release, Octavia sits up some, standing on her extended arms, her voice lifting higher and higher.

“Ah! Hahhhhoh my god, yeah, yeah, yes! G-gonna... I’m gonna cum, Slavik!” Octavia grinds her hips around and moans out bliss as you grab her by the chest and pull her tight. You squeeze one breasts hard, very hard, and try to make every stroke as long as possible. Your cock nearly slips out as you ream Octavia, her hips quivering and her voice tiny with tension. As you pick up the pace, suddenly more than twice as fast and even more forceful, Octavia’s miniscule cries of joy transform into extreme shouts of pleasure. Octavia’s newest orgasm blossoms into a full-body quake, making you work to even keep your cock inside. Just that, however, is enough to send you into a personal heaven.

As Octavia calms down, her girlcum drooling out in long streams, you pull out and watch as she flips over instantly, sucking all her climax off. Octavia moans throatily and strokes your slimy cock as quick as she can.

“Want me to move so you can watch your cum all shoot out onto my face?” Octavia asks in a hush just loud enough to hear.

“Fuck yeah,” you reply, also quietly. Octavia shuffles around as you jerk off quickly, keeping your ejaculation on a hair trigger.

“Mmmm, do you wanna cream my little face?” Octava whispers in a voice that somehow fits her. She isn’t a cumslut, you know that, and the meaningful, intimate sex is hardly the same as this. Even as you wank, watching Octavia touch her breasts and lick her lips, you wonder how this can be the same girl.

You don’t wonder for long as Octavia opens wide, showing off her throat. The sight sends you over the cliff’s edge in an second.

“Gah! Hnn-nnh...” you grunt as you send a few white ropes right onto Octavia’s face, laying a long strand from her forehead to her lips, bridging her pretty eye. With the rest, you coat Octavia’s nose and chin and lips and teeth.

Octavia happily sucks the last drops out, then sits back, contented and relaxed. You sit down next to Octavia and rest. It felt great, fantastic, but now your groin feels like it just got kicked.

“Mmmm,” Octavia groans, a disgusted look on her face shines in the light of the dim tv screen, her fingers and face stained in a disgustingly kinky way. “I think it’s about time we took that shower, Slavik.”

“Yeah,” you reply flatly.”That was great, though, Octavia,” you whisper, moving behind her and stroking her soft thigh. “I mean, really kinky too.”

“I just hope you don’t think I’m like that all the time, Slavik.”

“Of course not,” you tell her, resting your hands on Octavia’s stomach as you place your legs on either side of her. Octavia leans back in your embrace, careful of the spunk on her face. You hear her gulp, and you’re curious as to exactly how much she really enjoyed it.

“I,” she starts. “It’s... weird. I love the the smell of it, but, it’s also absolutely revolting. Slavik, I’m not a slut, I’m not! But, when I’m with you, I just... I just get so wet, I can’t explain it. And when you hold me, it’s so nice. And when you ram my little pussy, oh... Slavik, I just lose my mind. I can’t count how many times you made me cum tonight, but I’ve never squirted like that. Like, you saw, earlier.”

Octavia wiggles out of your arms and wipes her face with her discarded shirt, unashamed as she bends over to pick it up. “Tomorrow’s laundry day, anyway,” you hear her mumble.

The bassist sits near you again, curling her legs in close. “You don’t think I’m a dirty whore, though... do you, Slavik?” Octavia wraps her arms around her legs and sits still. You instantly move to her side and hold her with one arm.

“First off,” you begin. “No. And that’s all I have to say about that.”

Octavia smiles, but isn’t satisfied. “Slavik, I... know a girl should be sexy and willing an-”

“First off,” you interrupt. “No. A girl is supposed to be what she is: a person. Octavia, you’re an amazing, cute, intelligent, cultured, talented, loving person. And a great, great friend. Now, don’t get me wrong, I still wan-need to make your toes curl. That’s part of it, the intimacy and the passion, but I love being with you because not only do you make me smile with your body, but you fill my heart with helium and make me swallow it back down. When I look at you after we’re done humping, I don’t see a hunk of soft flesh, I see Octavia, the prettiest, smartest, most talented girl ever.”

Octavia goes in for a quick peck, but stops, only to laugh a little. “T-thanks,” she whispers as the long song ends, fading out to never ending silence. Octavia relaxes and leans into you, grabbing your hand, her light breathing and your thumping heart the only noises to be had.

“Come on,” Octavia says with only her breath. She gets up off of the lumpy fold-out bed and pulls you with her. You’re forced to trust Octavia in her darkness, heeding her warning of the stairs. One step at a time, you find yourself giddy as the two of you step into the bathroom.

Octavia flicks on the light, bathing her master bath in white light. The white tiles contrast with the black countertop, likely of a pricey dark-colored polished marble. A typical female shitstorm covers most of the sink area. Brushes, combs, curlers, makeup, teeth cleaning equipment, face cleaning equipment, cords, cans and stuff you have no idea of the original purpose of are scattered about randomly.

“I figured we could shower together,” Octavia says. With a flick of her wrist, she turns knob and water rains down from a wide shower head in a gentle downpour. Steam fogs the mirror in less than a minute as Octavia brushes her teeth. You take the opportunity to urinate, unashamed to Octavia. Still, even after a night of ramming her and cumming on her, Octavia blushes and looks away from the sight.

You wash your hands quickly after Octavia spits and rinses. You follow her quickly into the warm shower, the wide cylinder of warm water cascading down onto the both of you. You hold Octavia from behind immediately upon entering, holding your body as close to hers as possible. Octavia’s wet hair sticks to your face, but you just smile through it and hold her even tighter. Octavia relaxes in your embrace as the water begins to drench and warm the two of you.

After a bit, you feel Octavia gently move in your arms, pressing her ass into you. It’s impossible to ignore. She breaks the embrace and bends over a little to grab some shampoo. Wordlessly, you work a delicious smelling handful into her long black hair. You lather her up, rinse, and repeat twice. Octavia touches her breasts with her eyes closed, suds making her sopping-wet sweater puppies all slippery. Her mouth opens with a smiling gasp as you grab them for her, squeezing and feeling her tits slip around in your wet fingers.

Once more, you feel an undeniable stiffness. Octavia, with her beautiful hair now soft and clean, takes notice.

“Again?” she asks in an excited hush.

You turn a little and show off. “Yup.”

Octavia giggles and grabs a different bottle, this one a bronze hue. The wet bassist pushes you out of the wide waterfall until you stand in the cold corner. She doesn’t deny you warmth completely, however.

With just a kiss and a wink, Octavia gets on her knees in front of you, water cascading down all over her. She squirts some of the stuff, whatever it is, on her hands, a generous amount. Octavia begins to carefully rub it into your wet erection, the lotion instantly taking the soft out. She sighs heavily and squeezes harder, biting her lip. A warming sensation ignites on your member as Octavia rubs the lubricant into your cock. She pants a little, staring intently at the throbbing head. It feels so amazing, the way her hand works in the special lotion. Octavia uses both hands, squeezing very hard as she pushes her hands down your shaft. She squeezes hard as she pulls back as well, the pressure and the warmth and the slick sensations all adding up to more than the sum of their parts. Even after so many loads tonight, this particular erection feels as mind-numbingly great as the rest.

“I can’t believe you’re so hard again,” Octavia mumbles softly.

You lean against the chilly wall and grab Octavia’s head lightly. “How can I not be?” you ask her. “The sexiest, smartest dame is working my cock like a pro with some magic boner ointment.”

That made her smile her precious smile.

“Wanna fuck me raw, Slavik?” Octavia asks with a little kiss on your bulging cock head. The sound of hot water falls into the background as Octavia stands up, pulling herself to you. Her slick hands hook together behind your neck as you grab her waist. You give Octavia a deep, passionate kiss, tasting the mintiness, and groan. You find yourself more and more in need of her hot touch.

You break away and lift Octavia’s leg up to get your dick into her again. With the warming lube, your tip slips in like a hot knife into butter. Octavia melts all over again, her warm pussy heated by you, this time. You take her entirely in your arms and turn left and push her up against the shower wall, hot water finally heating your chilly back.

Octavia moans out loud as you begin moving, pushing her against the wall. You kiss her cheek and begin to take her weight a bit more in your arms, lifting and lowering her body on your tool. The tingling, warming sensations the lubricant bring you feel amazing, making the painful feeling of being hard once again fade quickly enough under mind-numbing pleasure. You feel hot all over as you begin to really give it to Octavia. She writhes in your embrace, moaning and twitching like mad.

“God damn, Octavia,” you say to her, barely more than a breath. “You feel so amazing raw, and this... whatever.... good....” You actually feel your thoughts slipping away and your ejaculation come closer and closer.

“Cum, ah... Octa-”

“Not inside!” she nearly shouts. You feel a deep burning in your tired arms and back, and a tasty little noise escapes Octavia as you lean back and let her fall some. You look into her eyes with a wide grin, sucking hot, moisture-laden air as you change your angle of attack a little.

Octavia stops you with a hand, bringing you back into the world of the sane. You exchange smiles as she stands on her own again. “There,” she says softly, pointing at a flat space for seating. How you never noticed it is a mystery.

You sit down on the shelf, obviously designed with couples in mind. Octavia turns around and carefully sits in your lap, sighing heavily as your flaming rod fills her up completely. The two of you immediately negotiate a quick pace, you guiding her with your hands on her wide hips. Octavia has to stoop over quite a bit, so you don’t get to enjoy the gift of her tits or her face. The mind-numbing wetness of her pussy will have to do. Octavia moans out in pleasure as you begin bucking your hips against her, dipping your burning tool all the way in her ribbed insides.

After a little bit of great fucking, Octavia leans back and lays on your body completely. You are forced to sit up and catch her, unable to move. Octavia whimpers and shakes for a second, her pussy spasming around your cock, then she regains her composure.

“Sorry, Slavik,” Octavia says softly. “I, I just came so hard.”

The way your sack is now coated in girlcum would atest to her truthfulness. “Let me take care of that big problem, baby.”

Before you even get a chance to think, Octavia bends over, showing off her red-lipped pussy. She comes back and gets on her knees before you, the bronze bottle of the best lube money can buy in hand. Just before she pours some out, Octavia stands and adjusts the large shower head so that the two of you are in a hot waterfall.

“Careful,” she says to you. “This stuff is expensive and water soluble, so lets try to keep your cock and my tits out of the water.”

“Oh, Octavia, that’s the opposite of a problem. I’ll buy a fucking keg of this stuff if you’ll just promise to come over and use it.”

“MMmmm...” Octavia trails off, staring up at you. “Yeah, I promise to do just that, Slavik. It feels so good, when your cock’s covered in it and is ramming my little pussy. I bet this special warming lubricant will feel great on my tits as you titfuck me, too.”

Your dick throbs some at Octavia’s seductive voice. With a wink and a flash of her tongue, she pours a whole glob of the yellowish gel onto her palm. Octavia cups her breasts and rubs it all in, a lot of it dripping down. You get on the floor and stop it from dripping too low. Octavia sighs and stops you, looks you in the eyes, then stands you back up.

“Ready, big boy?” she whispers, holding your dick in another searing embrace.

You just nod down at Octavia dumbly as she smiles and takes your throbbing organ between her tits. Both hands slip over her breasts as she tries to squeeze them together, a little twinge of pain flashing across her face. The feeling of her soft melons pressing on either side of your rod feels amazing, however, once Octavia manages to cradle it effectively.

Octavia crosses her arms across her bust rather awkwardly, but she squeezes the fuck out of your shaft regardless. The warming lube makes every stroke that much more amazing. As Octavia begins to pick up the pace, moaning and panting softly the entire time, you feel in your groin that special feeling. You’re going to hit the limit, and you just sit back and let that moment come.

“Octavia,” you say calmly. “Go faster, it feel so good. I’m gonna cum soon, O. Where do you want it?”

“Just cum in my tits, Slav,” Octavia says in a tense little whisper. “Does it really feel good, Slavik?” Her knowing little smile turns you on when she says your name in her special way. “Does fucking my oiled up chest feel good on your big, rock hard cock?”

“Fucking hell, Octavia!” You buck your hips with her some, making your dick feel like it’s on fire. The tingling sensations drive you crazy, igniting your brain as well. Octavia’s gorgeous little face, covered with water and black tendrils that are her wet bangs stare lovingly up at you, encouraging you to explode your love all over her.

“Do it, Slavik!” Octavia quietly screams. “Cum on my chest, paint me white.”

You remain silent and surprise her, not letting on that her dirty talk sent you over the threshold. Your brain melts instantly to burning mush. Octavia moans out thickly as you shoot again, covering her cleavage in thick cum. She sucks on your cock and teases out every last drop. She spits your last drops onto her chest, adding to the pool.

“Fuck, Octavia,” you say, suddenly tired beyond what you’ve felt all night. “That’s it, I think I’m spent. God... Celestia dammit, is that how you say it?”

“Yeah, hmm...” Octavia wipes your spunk off of her chest, succeeding at covering her fingers in hot cum. “Is that... when you cum, does it usually make you tired?”

“Me, or guys in general?”

Octavia stands and rinses her hands and body, forsaking her speech about the lube prices these days. “Uh, both.”

“Well,” you say to Octavia as you stand to hold her from behind, fighting the tunnel of darkness. “When a guy cums, and I’m a guy, it really takes a lot out of him. Not just, ya know. Literally. Mentally, too. Emotionally as well.” You hold Octavia’s still hot, slippery tits and get cozy behind her. “There’s all that buildup, and of course the intimacy. But, mostly it’s just the energy it takes to shoot all that cum out.”

Octavia just moans in response. You rub her breasts until that warming lube is all washed off. You still feel some heat on the palms of your hands, but it’s hard to say where Octavia’s body heat ends and the artificial stimulation begins. Your cock, however, still feels like it’s on fire, in a good way.

The two of you wash up in near silence, stopping to kiss or fondle every several seconds. Octavia sighs heavily when your fingertip graces her little clit, but the hot water is already running out. You have to deal with lukewarm water just to wash the last of the suds from Octavia’s supple body.

Octavia towels off, letting you touch her now. You lay her on the bed in her room, ignoring the mass of wet hair, your own body dry enough for that. You can’t help but get hard again, but Octavia leaves it alone. You’re not sure if that’s a good or bad thing at the moment.

Your fingers dip deep into Octavia repeatedly, making her moan and giggle and scream sequentially. You rest your head on Octavia’s clean, warm, just damp stomach and wrap your arm around her delicious thigh. She pants hard when you slip in your second finger, her twat amazingly tight. Octavia lays her head back on the neat covers and moans out loud. You kiss her soft skin and just go a little faster and harder, paying special attention to her spot.

“If you feel it coming,” you whisper into Octavia’s tender neck. “Just let go. Don’t worry, just cum, cum all you want, baby. Mmm, your nice, hot pussy feels so good, Octavia. That lubricant is still in there, it feels like my hands are on fire.”

“I know,” Octavia says in a little hush. She’s in a world of bliss and agony, it seems. You lick along her collarbone and feel the cool softness of the blankets. Octavia’s hips begin to tense up and shudder a bit, but that’s the only warning she gives. Octavia cries out softly and squirts again, spraying a few spurts of girlcum out towards the bathroom door, drizzling her carpet with a little clear fluid in the light shining in from the open bathroom door.

Octavia calms down fairly quickly, smiling wide and panting. You suck your fingers clean and are pushed away as you try to hug Octavia close.

“Nuh-uh,” she says, her palms pushing you away. “Not after I just showered. Come on. Wash your hands and we’ll talk.”

Too tired to argue, you walk off to the bathroom and quickly rinse your hands. You look back and see Octavia slipping into some sweat pants. You want to stop her from getting dressed, but your testicles ache in protest.

“Come,” Octavia beckons you as you step into the room. “I’ve got some dinner downstairs, and we can get tea and relax some. You, uh, if you’re chilly, there’s a robe hanging in the bath.”

You take her up on the offer of the robe, letting Octavia proceed downstairs before you.

After gazing down the balcony at the topless Octavia, you descend the staircase to meet her. Octavia has a kettle on the stove and some bacon frying. You spy an apron and give it to her immediately. With a kiss on her cheek, you help her pick out the rest of the meal. A fantastic breakfast of bacon, hot tea, orange juice, eggs inside of potato bread, toasted to crisp perfection is prepared rather speedily. The eggs inside, however, are a specialty: tiny one egg omelettes, loaded with spicy peppers and onions and cheese. You get the hang of making them, and end up using up half a carton of eggs. The stark flavor of the tea wakes you up with it’s aroma alone.

Octavia brings out a little radio and sets it on the high top table so you can dine with some progressive metal track playing.

“My god, Octavia,” you say with a mouthful of lean bacon and bread and crisp hash browns. You chew and gulp some down with a sip of hot tea. “I, words fail me right now.” You shut up and stuff more hot food in your mouth. You bob your head and drum along between bites.

Octavia laughs and swallows her mouthful. “It is pretty good, isn’t it?” She wipes her mouth on the apron and lazily drapes it over the back of her chair, giving you a full view of her torso.

The two of you dine in silence, save for the music and clink of forks and gulps. After two “grampa eggs”, as she called them, you finally start to feel less than starving. Octavia’s plush robe begins to get a bit ridiculous, so you shed that and go all nude for her. Despite your ferocious hunger, Octavia’s breakfast feast was too much for the two of you. Your plate is nearly clear by the end, but you can’t scarf down the last bits of crust and such.

Reluctantly, you bag the two omelettes in bread, a couple thick slices of bacon and a generous pile of hash browns. Once the leftovers are in the fridge and the dishes soaking in the sink, you turn to Octavia and hold her close. The song playing is very slow and intimate, unlike much of the rest of the album. You comment on it, and Octavia tells you a quick story about it.

The band’s bass player had been going through a fit of alcoholism over a girlfriend. Octavia continues talking about how that girlfriend had taken his money and pets and everything, and he was couch surfing when they weren’t on tour. He came up with that song, and the melancholy tone really showcased his emotions. Octavia plays it again, and you sit with her on your lap, drinking in the heartache. Despite it’s somber story and chord progressions, you find yourself smiling and kissing Octavia’s tender neck.

“Oh, the sun’s going to be up soon, Slavik,” Octavia whispers back, denying your hands the weight of her breasts. Octavia hops up and pulls you to her room again. You, sleepy like a bear ready for hibernation, grab the blankets she gives you.

“Huh?” you ask. “What’s, why, what are we doing, Octavia? Don’t you wanna get some sleep?”

“No, Slavik,” she says, holding the kettle carefully. You just realized she was carrying it this whole time. “We’ll go up on the annex and watch the sunrise. It’s an Equestrian tradition to stay up one night every year and watch the sun rise on the longest day of the year. It’s the summer sun celebration.”

Octavia waves you over with a smile to the old bookcase in the corner. You help her push it aside, revealing a narrow door. She jiggles the hatch some and opens the creaky door. You follow her into the near blackness.

The secret annex is musty and cold, furnished only by a few shelves with junk and a couple of chairs. The only window faces east, overlooking a small back yard and a stream beyond that. Trees cover everything else, but the iconic tower of the town hall rises above all, a defiant pillar in nature. You lay the blankets down while Octavia makes another trip for mugs, sweat pants, and the little battery powered music player.

“Here,” Octavia says as she hands you some soft cotton pants. “As much as I just love seeing your junk hanging out like that, I thought you might enjoy some pants.” You laugh softly with her. Octavia pours two steamy cups of hot water, then dips two bags in each black mug.

You sit up and listen to the symphony Octavia picked out. The first sounds are stately and prim, boring to you, but relaxing and intriguing in another way. Soft as they are, the gentle melody is inspiring. Octavia nuzzles close to you, laying her head on your shoulder. You lay your head on hers and stare out the window, half watching the violets of night fade to dull greys. The dusty air tickles your nose some, but you don’t sneeze. You’re too tired.

“Vinyl will be over sometime today,” Octavia says with a sigh.

You rub her soft, bare shoulder knowingly. “Everything will be alright, Octavia. I promise.”

“I... I just don’t want to kick her out, Slav. We’ve been so close for so long, and even if we’ve been growing apart the last few years, it still feels like I’m a huge traitor. I just, Slavik! I just can’t!”

You hold Octavia tight as she tries to stifle her sobs. “Things would have never gotten much better,” you tell her. “Now that Vinyl’s famous, or DJ PON-3, you won’t have that intimacy or passion. Octavia, we’ll make it as a band, I know we will. With you in the group, and your ingenious writing, we’re going to be big.”

“And I’ll have you,” Octavia says softly, violins barely audible now.

“You’ll always have my stinking ass to deal with.”

Octavia chuckles and sniffs. “Yeah, I’ll have you to deal with. My handsome sexual god of rhythmic, genetic and intilectual superiority.”

You rub Octavia’s back and look down at her for a little while in silence. The symphony’s second movement, a symphony you now recognize, begins as Octavia’s breathing starts to become slow and regular. You find yourself entranced in her. Everything about Octavia is beauteous. Her warm skin, her soft hair that’s nearly dry by now, her little moans as you wrap your arms around her, all of that and more transforms your heart into a pitiful butterfly trying to escape your trachea. You carefully take the barely sipped tea out of her hands and stare forward. The second movement of the symphony drags on in a lullaby of sweetness. Your open your eyes when they fall closed and watch for that yellow disc to rise over the brightening horizon. The music, however, has other plans.

You shake your head and sip some hot tea in a futile effort to stay awake. You set your mug down to the side safely and let your eyes fall. You lay down with Octavia, burying your chin in her cool, messy, soft hair and fall asleep.

Tiny ice needles wake you with deep stabs into your fingertips. You try to flick them away with your thumbnail, succeeding in only bringing their wrath in a greater magnitude. Driven to drastic measures, you have no choice but to try to move your arm. A body stirs when you do, and it rolls over and hugs you. The tiny needles flee; this was a great victory.

You adjust some and hug the body back, grateful for the warmth and the embrace as your back digs into the cold ground. What’s strange is that you are cold, wet, especially in your toes and hands. Unease wakes you up more, enough until you can open your eyes. You see a lot of dirty, long brown hair, and you smell a familiar body’s scent: it’s Anastasia.

“Where are we tonight, Anastasia?” you whisper, it being the first question to come to mind. A hundred fly by in the next instant. How did you get here? Where did Anastasia come from? Why were you so cold, even in winter? Is it winter?

Ana stirs a bit, but settles, her young body pressing into yours ass to lap. Instead of reaching around and capitalizing, you sit up, your libido far beyond sated for now. You clear your dry throat and rub the rest from your eyes. You sniff your nose clear and spy a shadow move in your blurry vision.

You freeze.

In the spindly pine forest beyond the miniscule clearing, in the shadowed daylight, is a tiny shape, barely as big as a loaf of bread. You get up to a crouch, then move to the object. For some reason, you’re compelled to investigate.

You leave Anastasia in the clearing and adjust your trenchcoat, three sizes too big and soaked in places. Avoiding any twigs or leaves, you silently make your way to the bush where you saw movement. As you approach, you hear the noise of a small girl whimpering. It’s unmistakable, the sniveling noise sounds exactly like that of a little girl who skinned her knee, or was punched by a boy or something.

You subconsciously let your guard down some as you pull the thorny bush aside. Right there, in a red-splotched patch of snow and leaves and twigs and dirt is a tiny blue horse. A pony, but it’s marred. Not too badly, as it seems. Still, it’s a baby.

You carefully reach in and pick the pony up, mentally crying at the sick noises it makes. Even a mother’s blood-curdling screams pale in comparison to the grim noises the crying foal make.

Knowing next to nothing about horse anatomy or medicine, you merely wipe away the dirt and thorns with fluffy snow, cringing as it whimpers in your arms.

For the first time, you notice several things wrong with the equine in miniature. First is the horn, then the wings, then the buggy eyes, then the mark on it’s rump. Only once do you see her large eyes; it’s a she. Her pale mane is matted with tears and melted snow and muck. It seems superfluous, but you gently pull some of the mud and twigs out of her hair.

Forsaking your own shaking bones, you wrap the pony in your coat. It must be twenty below, even in the sun. She seems to stop crying as much. The cuts on her legs and body were pretty light, so you leave those. Still, you put the outside in to avoid staining the stained inside.

“Ana,” you whisper, looking behind you. As gently as possible, you pick up the bruised blue foal and make your way back to where Anastasia is laying. She stays silent and unmoving as the tiny horse yelps when you set her down. It’s a tired, defeated cry, short and not very sincere. You unroll your coat and check on the puny pegasus unicorn anyway.

There’s no way this is real. You feel a sort of warm feeling inside as you brush off the blood with some more snow. It works very well as a cleaning agent, but cuts your skin with searing, chilling pain.

You let the little thing whimper as you turn to Anastasia again. “Wake up, sleepy,” you hiss as you push her shoulder. Anastasia’s beauteous brown hair is dirty, as usual. Still, it’s pretty, like her. If and when she’s clean, Ana is quite magnificent. You tap her some more, noting how her pants are hanging low, not fixed properly from last night. It’s a shame you can’t recall it clearly.

The blue pony’s whimpers have subsided some, so you turn to your sexy partner. You kiss Anastasia’s tender neck, not elicting any response. You reach around and gently cup her small breast, but still nothing. She’s cold, too cold. You hold her freezing body and try to warm up with her, but she’s freezing.

You scoot back and roll her over. What you see shocks you, jarring you completely. Her eyes are gone. The lovely hazel eyes that looked at you with adoration are bloody caves teeming with insects. You shake in place, turning just in time to vomit. You wipe your mouth and hold back another lurching expulsion. You block the image you just saw and turn to the blue pegasus.

Instead of sniveling, it, too, is silent. You touch it gently on the back, she’s breathing still.

“Come on, little pony, we have to go... away from here,” you say to yourself as much as her. You attempt to haul her up into your arms, but the limp body lurches out of your grasp and lands sickeningly on the frozen earth. You stand and back pedal a little on instinct, no more than two steps.

The little blue thing struggles to get it’s shaky hooves under itself. You kneel and want so desperately to help, but she’s so weak.

But she isn’t weak. No, the miniscule horse is strong, you see. Very strong. It begins to laugh, like a human. Like a ten year old supervillainess. Quietly at first, but her giggle crescendos into a maniacal laugh of pure evil and menopausal resent. You blink, and the creature hardly as big as a pillow grows to the stature of a mature tiger, likely just as agile and fierce.

You take another few steps back and trip over a corpse.

“Why do you sleep during the day, human?” the midnight black mare asks, looking away. Armor of a pale teal hue materializes on it’s haunches and torso as you struggle to find words. You try to speak, but thoughts turn into oatmeal as the travel from your brain to your throat.

“And why do you not sleep at night? How peculiar a creature of the night is, no?”

The accent is so strange, yet perfectly Equestrian. How the monster speaks in a mature woman’s voice is off as well. Again, oatmeal.

“Is it because you are a deviant? A criminal? A ne’er do well, a murderer, thief, rapist, predator? Do you thrive in the strife of others? Do the ‘normal’ folk despise and curse and scorn and shun you? Are you unable to fit in?”

Gruel.

The supervillainess turns in place, revealing her fangs to you. “Are you like us, the princess of the night?” Suddenly, that cute little horn isn’t cute at all. “Rubbish! You know NOTHING! You are NOTHING! Your work is deplorable and no one loves you! You are living rubbish, not even fit to feed the maggots that consume those who you fail to protect! YOU ARE NOT WORTH THE RESOURCES YOUR OPPRESSORS RIGHTFULLY EXPEND TO TRACK YOU!”

In one blur, you feel weightless. Your body lifts high into the air, fast, and in just one second, the snowy clearing turns into a tiny spec. You look up and see the curvature of the earth, and further, you can see stars. You feel cold, colder than ever, and you breath in nothingness. Just as you begin to choke, your eyes feeling like they will pop out, you feel warm, too warm, extremely warm. Your winter scraps burn up before you even realize it, and your vision is charred with burning air. The last thing you see is a blue form with a needle-sharp horn rushing up to meet you. Your chest explodes with pain, the rest of your body flies beyond it with it’s own momentum.

“NO!” you shout, feeling terror consume your body.

Next to you, Octavia rolls over and faces you, pulling the blanket over her body tighter. “Nmmm..... five more minuns....” You’re back from Siberia and under some blanket in Equestria, you observe gratefully.

You smile, your body shivering as sweat cools your torso. You lay down and wrap your arms around Octavia, infinitely happy to be with her, not freezing and your belly full of homemade delicious. Just when you feel your smile settle in, another shot rings out, making you jump.

“Mnough,” Octavia whimpers. “mback, pweez...” She trails off, hugging the blankets in front of her. Just as your heart melts again to her cuteness, another shot rings out. It’s not a shot, you realize with a curse, it’s lightning. Just a plain, boring, lethal discharge of static electricity, nothing to worry about. Still, you look out the window. The sky is black and star-studded. Questions run through your mind in dozens, compounded by the lack of lights in any other buildings.

You stand at the window while Octavia grumbles, taking all of the blankets. The entire city, from what you can see, is blacked out. A softer noise rings out, likely another strike further off. A brownout now seems too odd, and you wonder why it happened. Naturally, you recollect the busy day at the plant.

You remember back to the hydro plant, the turbines. Everything seemed okay, except the water it took to get the turbines running seemed at least double what it should have. Still, you hardly see it as a problem, just an oddity while starting up. Your thoughts, you remember, were mainly of a female at the time.

Shaking off a smirk, you feel your heart racing with guilt-laced panic. What if snake-eyes fucked something up? What if Liam couldn’t take care of business? What if he, too, was waist deep in his girlfriend? What if it was just a storm, or someone crashed into a power substation thing? Other explanations calm you some, but panic is still teasing your thoughts.

A shuffling noise turns you from the window, eerie thoughts still plaguing your mind.

“Octav-ia...” You trail off. The hurricane of worry in your head calms quickly when Octavia rolls onto her side and curls up in an adorable ball.

“Five mims...” The town can burn, for all you care. Questions remain unanswered as you wrestle with the blankets. Octavia groans and flips over as you lay next to her, and you take the chance to hold her from behind. Your sweat has cooled and dried, but Octavia’s warm body heats you up under the covers very quickly. Octavia moves a little in your arms, only making things hotter. Your crotch cradles Octavia’s nice round ass as your hands cup her warm breasts, or slip over her sweat-traced stomach. Octavia moans just the slightest and moves her legs as your finger slips down the counters of her womanly hips.

Another moan escapes Octavia’s lips as your fingertip gently presses into her hard clitoris.

“God dammit, Slavik. You know just how to make me hot,” Octavia whispers softly.

You press your stiffening member up into Octavia’s backside, just holding her close and rubbing along the curves of her ass.

“I can’t believe you wanna go again, Octavia.”

She only moans in response, tangling her legs with yours. Your fingers are coated with Octavia’s fluids as they play with her labia. She tenses up slightly at your touch, gyrating her sexy hips against yours.

Your mouth waters at Octavia’s whines and moans. Licking her ear just isn’t enough.

In a giggling tornado of blankets, sweatpants, sweat and limbs, you dive under the covers and wrap your face in Octavia’s warm thighs. Her perfect olive skin, tasty and tanned and soft is slick with her feminine juices and saliva. The sharp taste excites you into a trance of lust. Your tongue moves autonomously, yet intelligently. Octavia mumbles something as your mouth’s muscles begin to tire, her message lost in the thick comforter.

Just as quickly as you trapped yourself in the stuffy, damp, and vulgarly delicious grip of Octavia’s legs, the blankets around you fly off. Octavia jolts up a little, nearly as much as yourself.

“What gives Octavi-oh. Uh, hi... Scratchy.” You lick the vaginal fluids from your lips and look up at Vinyl Scratch. Her tight tank top is stained all over, and her jaw is slack. In one clenched fist is a corner of the comforter.

A blanket of silence covers the little secret room. Octavia lays still, propped on her elbows, Vinyl standing next to her large friend by the door. The tall, lean man, nearly six feet in stature, has a little grin on his face.

A short snicker escapes Scratch’s lips, then a chortle. She guffaws, then explodes with drunken laughter. Her large dark skinned boyfriend joins in a bit as well.

“What’s so funny?” Octavia asks, covering herself with your pants. You take hers, the lighter colored pair, and slip them on, only mildly embarrassed that two strangers have seen your package.

Vinyl calms down and leans on her boy toy. “Cuz, O. Here I am, just got home from Manehatten with my boy Firestorm, and I see the... uh, shit. The room, the... this room’s open. Huh- so I come up and I see you gettin’ off, right? Stormy, you thought she was wanking, right?”

“Yeah-”

“Pfsh! I KNOW, right? Yer so cute, O. But yeah... where was I saying?” Vinyl grins wide and throws her head back. You notice the dark hand grabbing her ass, somewhat hard. Vinyl sighs, pushing her hips sideways into Firestorm’s.

“You’re drunk, Vin-”

“Shyeah I am. Summer sunny thingy’s like... th’best night, baby. Get drunk, get laid, yeah! Who’s this naked guy, Octavia?”

“Slavik,” you say, moving your hand covertly to Octavia’s. “Nice to see you again, Vinyl.”

“No, nono, your name, dude.” Vinyl gasps a little when a finger finds it’s way between her legs. “One sec, jeez,” Vinyl hisses at her new friend.

“No,” Octavia butts in, her great breasts hiding behind a pair of pants. You remain seated at her side, sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the blanket. “He’s the percussionists in our band.”

“Percuss-just say drummer, jeez,” Vinyl says. “Anytits, he’s kinda cute. Slavi ‘n Tavi, you’re kinda cute tog-holy shit, Firestorm! Touch me one more time and I’ll... something!” Vinyl giggles seductively and lets Firestorm get a bit handsy. It’s not such a bad show.

You turn to Octavia and watch her slip on her sweatpants. “What do you want to do now, Octavia?” you whisper. “How shall we handle this?”

Octavia takes a deep breath as the other two swap theirs. She closes her eyes, seemingly doing a better job than you to ignore the mutual groping. “I don’t know how to do this Slavik,” Octavia whispers, her small voice shaking some. Water in her eyes, Octavia looks up into yours. Determination and tired desire burn through the morning-night air, showing her steel resolve. Octavia comes forward and kisses you deeply, passionately, but briefly.

“But,” she barely breathes in your face, black tea lingering on her breath. “I can figure it out.”

She squeezes your hand, hinting at her mortal weakness, doubt, and terror. Octavia stands up in the darkness. She steps into her pants thereafter.

You get up as well, finally drawing Vinyl and Firestorm’s attention. “So,” Scratch asks, her shirt on the floor and her pants undone. “We fuckin’, er... what?”

“No, Vinyl,” Octavia says steadily, softly. “As you can see... I found someone else.”

“Duh, that’s how group sex works.” As saddened as you are that you will never get to hear Vinyl scream, Octavia has words that need saying.

“Vinyl, that’s not happening tonight, er... today, I really am not sure. Not with Slavik and I, anyway. I’m not sure how to put this softly, so I’ll be blunt.”

“Heh, what’s this about a blunt?” Firestorm injects.

Octavia ignores him completely, even the little spank he gives her lover. “We’re through. I hate to say it, Vinyl, I really do, but I’ve found someone else. And the both of you in my life... there’s no way we can stay together. You’re on the road, you’re famous, you’re stupid sexy, and so, so talented But, I’ve got my own life to live now. I can’t sit back and be DJ PON-3’s girlfriend. I don’t plan on sitting with my thumb up my ass while you live your life. No, I have my own dreams, now. I’m twenty-three, and for the very first time since we kissed, I’ve found my new direction. I’m a writer, a musician, a damned good one, a performer, and I’m no longer a hopeless teenage rebel. Not your groupie, not my backwards mother’s blacksheep daughter, not your threesome mate, not anything but an ex-girlfriend. Vinyl, I’m... I, I’m so sorry. You’ve been so huge in my life, never forget that. Instead of being some bored, boring, lonely cellist with zero friends or social skills and ambitions that were instilled by my parents, you gave me the gall to say ‘fuck that, fuck you, fuck all of you’!

“Scratchy,” Octavia continues after wiping up a tear. “You’ve been so kind to me, and don’t you ever, not for one stupid second, think that I never loved you.”

Vinyl Scratch’s face bears a mixture of extreme emotions. Rage, confusion, disbelief, frustration, more deep feelings you feel rather awkward for even observing. Seconds of silence last for centuries as Octavia’s partial nudity still draws your attention.

“Tavi-”

“Scratchy, I know the timing is all fucked-”

“It IS fucked, O!” Vinyl blurts something and stomps off to the bedroom, kicking away her tiny shirt in frustration. Octavia follows after giving you a quick, apologetic, strained look.

Firestorm raises an eyebrow at you, but not in hostility. He seems like he was wholeheartedly expecting to get laid, and enjoying the company of a new possible friend. A new bro is hardly on your mind, even if the events to come likely involve you sitting and listening. You move into the untidy bedroom as he lazily follows.

“... just god dammit, Tavi,” Vinyl continues. “You can’t-can’t just-I... I WAS going to be all sorry and shit, but... Okay. the plan was to surprise you and make you the whole item of worship in the threesome, and then say I WAS gonna get a loft in Manehatten and work on a new EP, maybe a fucking LP so we could, ya know... be together for once.” Vinyl lays her head in her hands. “But I guess your band’s more important than your first puppy love, right?” She would be sobbing, if not for the tears and palms in her face.

“Oh...” Octavia tries to respond, sitting still on the other side of the bed they’ve likely done a lot of intimate things in. “Oh my fucking god, Scratchy.” She’s close to tears, but denies herself and her newly former girlfriend an embrace.

“I never asked for this shit,” Firestorm gumbles, his voice more manly and deep than even his considerable size lead you to imagine. You move to the computer chair as he finds the stairs. You lean back and immediately hate the faux-leather that turns sweat into glue.

You look on as Vinyl and Octavia sit next to each other, Octavia holding her own, somehow. Vinyl is all but bawling at this point, but quietly. Octavia gives in, and slips a hand to her partner’s. “Vinyl, we can still be friends.”

Vinyl Scratch snatches her hand away and stands up, her face and hair a mess. “No,” she says, choking on tears. “You can’t fucking do that! Octavia, I’m either your best friend, or nothing! Fuck this, I need a drink, fuck. Octavia, I-GOD DAMMIT! You and I were so good! We were... were so close. God, how can this end like this? I... I should just shut up before I say something bad. Fuck me, just, just go. I don’t fucking care where, just get the hell out.”

“Scratch,” Octavia says, water falling out from her beautiful eyes. “L-look, we were really close, and you helped me so much, but now... I’m holding you back. I, I’m too busy, you’re too busy, but that’s okay.”

“Yeah? It’s okay that my new plans just happen to involve slowing down so we can spend more time together?”

“In a city a thousand miles from here, while my band does what? I’m a big part of Babylon, Scratch. We need four people, unlike you. You’re a geni-”

“Don’t, O. Don’t even start with that. We know you’re smarter than me, so maybe it’s the SMART thing to just fucking leave me.” You hold back the tidbit about how Vinyl missed the implied reduction in the number of bandmates.

“Scratch,” Octavia begins, then stops, subsiding. You sit still, ignored for now.

“Tavi,” Vinyl replies with a tear. She just looks away and slinks off the bed, falling with a thud.

Octavia rubs her eyes, clearly exhausted. You feel drained, too, but you can only imagine the emotional toll Octavia’s enduring. You feel a twinge of guilt, technically the reason for the breakup. Still, Octavia chose her path, and Vinyl is mostly upset with herself, it seems. None of that does anything to quell the self-hatred you feel, but it passes the buck, in a sense. You feel like you can deal with it, you know you can. After losing Ana so many years ago, you know you can do anything.

You wince and stand up off the chair, checking to see if you left any peeled skin behind. You sit on the bed next to Octavia, instantly getting a little side hug. You feel water come to your eyes as Vinyl turns, shuddering with extreme sorrow.

You nearly pick Octavia up, knowing she needs to leave, and now. She stops and turns in your arms, but you just pick up a shirt from a dresser and give it to her. “Come on, Octavia,” you barely whisper. “We’ll deal with this in the morn-uh, tomorrow. Alright?”

She just nods and wipes up a tear as you step through the door to the balcony. You grab your pants and shirt and acknowledge Firestorm, who’s eating your lukewarm leftovers, the selfish bastard. You have sandwich stuff and other things back at the domicile, but still, those were good eats.

“See ya, lil nig,” Firestorm says as he swallows your hash browns. You just toss him a little wave as you pull on your shirt.

“Tell Vinyl to call me tomorrow, please,” Octavia says softly, holding the door for you, wearing the top she brought over. You check your pockets and find everything, a whopping total of nothing, all you brought over.

“Yeah,” Firestorm says with a little nod.

You leave with Octavia, merely holding hands, saying no words. You arrive at your home and catch Octavia as she breaks down. For a dozen or so minutes, you just sit still on the sofa and hold her. Water slips out of your eyes too, you can’t help it. Octavia whimpers a little in the darkness, leaning heavily into you. All you can offer is a shirt to stain and a hand to stroke her back. Octavia’s long, apocalyptic black hair is still cool, a little damp.

Despite the overwhelming emotions swirling around the two of you, or perhaps because of it, you feel your eyes get heavy as Octavia’s full figure weighs into you. Her sniffling slows, but doesn’t quite stop. You take a quick breath and smell Octavia’s fragrant shampoo fresh on her hair. You rub Octavia’s back, slipping your hand under her shirt, feeling the soft, tender skin. You sigh and drink in her beauty, doing all you can not to take it for granted.

Octavia stirs and stands on one arm, looking into you. “Come on, Slavik,” she whispers. “I’m sorry you had to be there, but thanks for the help. Let’s just get some good sleep and worry about moving tomorrow.”

“Alright, love,” you whisper back, tracing Octavia’s beautiful jaw with a finger, blinking her long hair out of your eyes.

You follow Octavia as she gets up to walk the short distance to your room. You close the door and debate putting on some music. When you ask Octavia, she shakes her head in the darkness. Then you recall that the power is out, so you shake your own head and take off your shirt, then pants. Octavia mumbles something as you do so, but still removes her top, leaving the comfortable sleep pants on. Octavia’s soft hair covers your face as she snuggles into your arms, her butt pushing into your lap. This time, your erotic thoughts have no momentum, and a tired, drained sleep engulfs you in moments.