Spike sighed, moving to go sit by a bench overlooking a nearby park.

Almost as soon as he took his seat, though, he felt an unfamiliar buzz coming from his pocket. He fished out his phone, pondering at the unfamiliar number.

He pressed the answer button, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"What's good, skank?" a voice called, slightly fuzzy.

Spike wrinkled his nose, though he knew his mystery caller would be blind to it. "Excuse me?"

"Cheer up, sunshine. Doesn't my voice ring any bells?"

"Not really," he grunted.

"You helped my girlfriend and I find our collective contacts," she said.

Spike's mind wandered for a moment. Then, "Lyra?"

"Bingo. What's up? You haven't answered your phone in months. Me and Bon thought you were dead or something."

"I was in a coma, actually," he said, adopting a tone of sarcasm. "But thanks for checking up on me, you know, just really good job there."

"Missed you too, babe." Lyra returned. "But since you're feeling better—"

"Are you seriously going to booty call me right after I got out of a coma?"

"Are you seriously turning down an offer to absolutely destroy me and BonBon if she's up for it maybe?" she shot back.

"I'm not exactly at liberty to continue a threeway with my favorite lesbians, no."

There was a scoff. "Joke's on you, bitch. BonBon's the dyke, not me."

Spike grimaced at her harshness. "Really? Because I thought it was pretty heavily implied that you were gay."

"Dude, it's BonBon. No one's that straight."

Spike snorted. "Well, color me surprised. Does she know she's been tongue-punching a straight woman?"

"Spike, buddy, come on. Loose lips and all that."

He rolled his eyes. "Sure thing."

"So, that's a no on the boinking?"

"Maybe? My..." he hesitated, "boss is probably going to be pissed at me."

"Pfft, right, like your boss can tell you who you can and can't sleep with."

Spike held his breath.

"You're shitting me."

"I shit you not." He rubbed his neck out of habit, absently noting the people walking by, glancing at him. "I, uh, was kind of responsible for the whole coma thing."

"What? What have you been doing since I last saw you?" Lyra cried, incredulous.

Spike took a moment to recollect, and then another to phrase them. Then, "I came back to my old town, slept with the librarian, got a footjob in the bar, had a threeway with a bumpkin and rich girl, knocked boots with an athlete in a back-alley, got in a fight with another dragon, got crippled and lost my fire, ended up in the hospital, cuddled with a masculine cowgirl, ran away from a wolf, pissed off the local witch-doctor, slept with the same bumpkin from before and her two childhood friends, beat up the wolf from before, had a dream where I almost got sodomized, stole a priceless ruby from some gangsters, got my fire back, partnered up with the librarian, a princess, and a father-figure who turned out to be Arch Mage, and burned a fire demon that I may have been responsible for waking up."

There was a gravid silence on Spike's end. Just when he was about to speak up, he heard:

"You're a DRAGON?"

Rainbow Dash huffed as she trotted down the park's cobbled path, engrossed in her late morning jog. The familiar tightness in her calves was a welcome sensation, the runner's high beginning to hit its stride even as she strode through the grove of her home. She wore a form-fitting work-out shirt and running shorts, marked only by a thin layer of sweat from the sun's heat.

She meandered throughout the park, silently enjoying the shifting of her body like the finely-tuned machine that it was. She took care of her body, and felt genuinely sorry for every poor bastard that had the misfortune of not being the sex goddess that was Rainbow Dash.

Damn, I rock, she thought to herself.

She blinked as she heard a familiar voice off to her side, and glanced over.

"Spike?"

Surprised, he looked up, searching with his eyes until he saw her. "Dash, hey!"

Growling, she marched up to him. "Don't you 'Dash, hey' me, you gorgeous prick." She slapped him in his mouth, prompting an indignant protest from her victim. "Everyone was worried sick when you ended up in the hospital, again."

"Maybe I was trying to beat your record," he shot back.

Her runner's high was forgotten, replaced by an angry, hot itch that rose to her cheeks. "And that's not even the worst of it. The Princess may be about to rip you a new asshole when she finds you, but once Rarity finds out you're up, she's going to fuck that hole with a chainsaw doused in fire."

The corner of Spike's mouth turned upward, the bastard. "Graphic. Did you plan that one?"

"I've been saving it," she returned.

Spike held her gaze for a while longer, then sighed. "Look, contrary to what everyone else keeps giving me shit for, I knew what I was doing."

She snorted. "Could've fooled me."

He stared at her. "Hey Dash, here's an idea. Maybe I know I've made nothing but poor decisions since I got back, and I'm trying to do better."

She crossed her arms and stared at his chest. "Yeah, well, tough shit. Today's not a safe day, and I refuse to talk about my feelings, so I'm staying pissed at you."

Spike continued to eye her, none-too-subtly looking her up and down. Finally, he said, "Why are you really mad at me?"

Dash stared, sullen because of the sour turn her day had taken. "I was scared for you," she admitted, then turned and walked away, upset.

With a bitter taste in his mouth, Spike wandered through town.

He knew Dash was just being her usual stubborn self, but that didn't make him feel any better.

The sooner Luna comes for me, the better, he grumbled to himself.

He caught a glance of the Crusaders from across town, and they waved, beaming, but appeared busy. He returned the gesture, feeling bittersweet.

He met with Applejack at her stall, but even a friendly hug and words of encouragement on her part did little to improve his mood.

Granted, Dash wasn't the only reason for his disposition.

While he had been talking with Applejack, he'd had the familiar sensation of a prick on his neck, as if someone was watching him.

Glancing around, he'd scanned the marketplace until he found her.

Rarity.

She'd been on the opposite side of the marketplace, sitting down at a cafe table, lips wrapped around a straw submerged in vanilla milkshake. She was wearing a black blazer and pencil skirt, and though her eyes were hidden by a pair of matching Burberry's, Spike knew that she was staring him down.

Seeing that he had finally noticed her, she released the straw, and with exaggerated slowness, folded her fingers into a bridge and simply looked at him, giving him her full attention.

Looking back on it, it was exactly the kind of cliche behavior he'd come to suspect from Rarity, but he was unnerved just the same.

"Hey," he whispered to Applejack, "Forced castration is illegal, right?"

He was halfway back to the library when she caught him.

As he darted from house to house, trying to remain out of sight, he felt a tingling sensation at the cuff of his pants. A second later, he was planted face-first into the ground.

Before he could react, he was flipped over. Spike only caught a quick glimpse of Rarity's face before his vision turned white.

"Just so you know," a familiar voice rang into Spike's still smarting ears, "I was incredibly distraught when you went under."

Spike's head lolled to and fro, steadying only when he came to his senses. Blinking the stars out of his eyes, he waited until his vision adjusted to his darkened surroundings. It took him a moment to realize that he was staring at the inside of Rarity's bedroom, a place he'd seen only sparingly.

"But, well, Sweetie Belle never was much for keeping secrets." A pair of bright blue eyes moved in front of Spike, scrutinizing him. "I was understandably upset at first, but after a while, everything more or less settled."

"I—" A stinging slap struck his face, stunning him into silence and leaving his cheek smarting.

"I am talking. Do not speak." Rarity stared at him, silent but furious. Now that she stood in front of him, Spike saw that she was dressed in her same outfit from before. "I thought you were better than that."

Spike glared at her, feeling a taut force around his ribs, realizing he was bound with ropes to a chair. Kind of pointless, considering how strong he was, but Rarity was all about atmosphere.

Continuing her apparently planned monologue, Rarity pulled up a stool, resting an elbow on her knee and laying her head into her open palm, reminiscent of a thinking pose. "I mean, it's not like I saw it coming, but I really should have, considering your poor decision-making skills and Sweetie's unprecedented thirst." She tapped a finger to her chin. "Granted, my sister is capable of making her own decisions, but I was under the impression that there was an understanding between you and I."

Spike grunted. "News to me."

Rarity pursed her lips in a frown, but didn't strike him again.

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"I know you'll tell me."

"Shut up. I think that, after all you've done since you've come back, you haven't learned a single thing." She smirked when Spike's gaze turned indignant. "A hit dog will holler."

Before Spike could retort, she turned serious again. "Why did you seek out my sister and not me? You must have known that I would've said yes, eventually."

"I know," he grunted. "And I didn't 'seek her out'. She and her friends offered me a gauntlet of poontang, so I agreed."

"You didn't answer my question."

"You're not just some pretty face, Rarity."

"And my sister is?"

"You should know by now that we're not doing the friends-with-benefits thing."

"News to me," she muttered. If he heard her, he didn't indicate it.

"Should've known you were into S&M."

The seamstress stammered for a moment, before finally regaining her composure. "Why does everyone say that? I've never so much as touched a riding crop!"

"Fine then," Spike said, shifting in his seat. "Just untie me and—"

"You are not leaving here until I am done with you," she said sharply.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like you're going to stop me. I'll just burn right through these—shit." Of course she took his gem, she wouldn't be so stupid as to leave it there. Without it he wouldn't be escape his bindings with magic.

"You were saying?" Rarity said, smiling beatifically.

"I still have my strength," he growled, tensing his muscles. The ropes started to give, but they were in no hurry to snap.

Rarity frowned, moving forward. "You can't break those ropes without cutting into skin. They're magic."

Spike ignored her, concentrating on his efforts to snap his bindings. True to what she had said, the ropes began to tug onto his skin, but the thickness of his body's flesh made the pain all but unnoticeable.

Rarity's frown increased in size. Not only would he destroy the ropes soon enough, but he'd likely destroy her chair with all the force he was exerting.

Ever the strategist, the seamstress moved her hands to her collar, shrugging off her blazer and deftly unbuttoning her blouse, until it hung open and her black bra was showing.

Spike stopped immediately. "What are you doing?"

"Undressing. I would've thought it was obvious."

"I can see that—"

"Oh, I bet you can."

"—I just don't see why!"

Rarity smiled, though there was no real charm in her face. "You're obviously determined to be difficult. I can be difficult too."

"I've noticed."

"So," she said, "I've decided to make things more interesting. For every question you don't answer honestly, I will remove one piece of clothing." She sharpened her gaze. "And as you know, I have a very keen eye."

Spike stared her in the face. "And what do you think that will accomplish?" He was defiant, but Rarity could detect a hint of hysteria seeping into his voice.

Rarity cleared her throat, a hand on her hip. "The fact that you haven't pursued me, and yet maintain that you haven't lost your attraction, seems to mean that either you are lying, which I doubt, or," and here she tapped her cheek in a gesture of contemplation, "Or, you're scared of being at my mercy."

"I—" Spike started to speak, but hesitated, eventually falling silent.

For all of his growth, to Rarity, he looked every part the intimidated young boy from so many years ago.

Brushing aside her nostalgia, she knelt down so that the two of them were eye-to-eye. "Why did you leave?"

Despite their proximity, Spike looked away, stubbornly refusing to look at her. Sighing, Rarity shrugged her blouse from her shoulders, her shoulders bare.

Spike swallowed, determined to look anywhere but at her body.

"Please dear," she sighed, "don't be difficult." She reached a hand forward, rubbing his neck until he relaxed and his muscles lost their tensity.

Finally, speaking lowly, he said, "I felt like I wasn't needed anymore."

Rarity frowned. "You had to know that wasn't true."

Spike shrugged halfheartedly. "Yeah, so? Feeling like that, day-in, day-out, do you know what that does to you? I mean, try to see things from my point of view, Rarity. I'm only friends with the people I know now because Twilight knew them first. For all I know, I'm never going to do anything other than be Twilight's assistant, and then what? Everyone knows I'm going to outlive her, and what was I going to do with myself then?"

Rarity sighed. "Unfortunately, it seems that you thought this out, which makes it much more difficult to be upset with you."

Spike stared at her with some measure of relief and incredulity. "You didn't think I just decided to leave on a whim, did you? If there's anything I learned from Twilight, it's planning."

"Did you tell her?"

He shook his head. "Not all of it. Twilight gets all clingy and emotional whenever someone mentions how I'm going to outlive her."

Can't say I'm surprised, Rarity thought to herself. "What did you expect to accomplish with appealing to Luna?"

"I'm a fire-breathing dragon, I'm going to live for hundreds of years, and on top of all that, I'm homeschooled." He snorted. "Not to mention I don't have a magic stamp on my ass that tells me what I'm good at. There are literally no other jobs for me that someone else couldn't do better."

"So, what," Rarity started, raising an eyebrow, "you felt lonely, so you ran off to be a personal soldier for a woman you barely knew?"

"Superhero," he muttered.

Resisting a shriek of frustration, Rarity clenched her hands together repeatedly, as if they were around her idiotic friend's throat. Restraining herself, she asked through clenched teeth, "Why?"

"Why not? I needed to get out, to go somewhere and breathe. Anywhere but here."

"But—"

"What did you think would happen?" He asked, grim-faced. "I stay here, work the library the rest of my life, and hope that maybe the two of us get together?" He shook his head. "I may be a jerk, but I deserve better than that."

Rarity crossed her arms, but said nothing.

"Now," he grunted against the rope, "let me out."

Rarity raised an eyebrow. "Why would I do that?"

"Because we both know you're not going to do anything to me. You may be pissed at me, but you're not the kind of person who'd risk our friendship to make a point."

Rarity stared at him, unfolding her arms. Her frown slowly morphed into a jubilant smile. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "My dear, friendship has everything to do with it."

Contrary to what Spike expected, Rarity had no qualms about being open with her feelings. She had demonstrated as much immediately following their exchange:

"Do you see that chaise lounge, over there?"

"The chair? Yeah," Spike had said. "What about it?"

Hand glowing magic, Rarity levitated her captive from his chair, tightening the ropes around his back so that his arms remained tied together. "Normally," she said, "I would have scruples about doing things out of their proper order." She chuckled as she deposited Spike on the chair. "But, well, we've known each other so long, and darn it if I'm not fond of the pretty ones."

Spike fidgeted. "Are you doing this because of me and your sister?" His heart thundered in his chest as Rarity circled the chaise, just out of his field of vision.

"Not really," she admitted. "But as far as this pleasant little tête-à-tête goes, vengeance is the status quo." A soft, trained hand rubbed the base of Spike's skull, scratching the nape of his neck fondly. The hand vanished, replaced by a depression of the chair as Rarity hoisted herself onto the tender cushion, straddling Spike's waist with her thighs. "If you ask me, this was always going to happen. You and I, we're just too pretty to keep our hands off of each other for long." She lowered her head, staring him in the eye. "If you'll excuse my arrogance, there really was never anything else. You've always been mine. I've just never come to collect."

Spike raised an eyebrow, but didn't contest her point. "You'd make a good dragon," he said.

Rarity smirked. "I shall take that as a compliment. Now, you have one of two options. Leave now, and our friendship shall continue where it left off." She wiggled her hips to adjust herself.

If the pressure in his undergarments was any indication, Spike's erection was doing its damndest to murder his pants. "Or?" he asked, strained.

"Or, you can be a good boy and let me get this out of my system. The catch," she said, holding up a finger so that he could see, "is that you may not initiate any contact of your own accord."

"What?!"

"That's your punishment," Rarity said, nonchalant. She had the nerve to inspect her fingernails as she ignored his protests.

Simmering down, he sighed, bumping his head against the armrest. "Fine, you crazy cat lady."

Ignoring the slight, Rarity smiled, reaching forward and rubbing Spike's face with the palm of her hand. "You are my friend, Spike. Never forget that." Then she summoned a pair of scissors and deftly cut open his shirt. "And I am about to hit you with some next-level friendship."

She adjusted herself so that she was resting parallel to Spike on the chaise. Instead of starting off immediately, she simply stared at him openly, smiling.

"So," Spike coughed, embarrassed, "why a chair?"

"It's fuck-resistant," Rarity murmured.

"What?"

"I have never had another person share my bed. Not literally, at least." Her hand reached out to stroke his abdomen. "And until I am married, I never will." She gave him a squeeze. "Does that answer your question?"

Spike swallowed. "Kind of."

Rarity seemed content to continue staring, not moving except for an occasional blinking of the eyes and an unhurried massage of his torso.

Finally, she sighed, pulling herself closer to her partner. "I almost wish we could stay like this for the rest of the day."

Spike cast a sideways glance at her. "We could," he said, hesitantly.

Rarity sighed again, lifting herself so she rested just above Spike's head. "Unfortunately, both of us will have places to be."

"Rarity, come on," Spike urged. "I get why you want to do this, but can't we wait until the mood is right? Don't you want to do this the right way?"

The dressmaker stared at him, contemplating. "I've waited years. So no, not really." Then, grasping his chin with her fingers, she leaned in and kissed him full on the lips, and any resistance Spike had crumbled to dust. She smirked as she felt him shudder as she deepened their contact.

Her skilled tongue batted his inexperienced one about, aggressive but playful as she pushed and tugged at him. Her fingers raked across Spike's chest, clutching at his hardened muscles as she straddled his waist and tugged him up from the chaise, her hands pulling on the taut muscle of his back.

Without losing a beat, she rolled her hips into his crotch, relishing the bulge that proved her finesse. He let out a boyish groan, thrilling her and reminding her of the power she had always held over him. Slowing her gyrations so as not to end the fun too soon, she broke the kiss, moving to brush her lips against his collarbone. He spoke his shiver, and as Rarity inhaled the burgeoning scent of her friend, she felt him flex in frustration against the ropes that dug into his wrists.

"Frustrating, isn't it?" She murmured, teasing his sensitive neck with an open-mouthed kiss.

Spike groaned, spreading his legs and allowing his partner closer access. Rarity hummed as she felt the fullness of his erection press between her thighs.

Leaning back, the dressmaker untangled her hands from behind's Spike's back. Gently, she pushed him onto his back, before shrugging off her blouse and unhooking her black bra. Ever so slowly, she lowered her chest until it was mere inches from Spike's face. "Tug," she commanded, and moments later, the dark fabric was tugged from her shoulders by way of Spike's teeth, baring her breasts, full and pale.

Given his experience as far as sex was concerned, Rarity considered it high praise indeed that she could stun the young man just by being topless.

"It's really happening," he said, dazed.

"It's really happening!" Rarity confirmed, complete with jazz hands.

With cautious anticipation, Spike arched his back to reach Rarity's chest. Resting on his arms, he took one pert nipple into his mouth, reveling in the sensation of the soft, malleable flesh he massaged with his tongue. Rarity sighed, hugging him with her hips and absently combing his rough hair with her fingers. For a few moment's time, Rarity simply coasted on the pleasure of his attentions, communicating her pleasure through throaty moans. As he worked, Rarity traced a line from his neck to his stomach. A flirtatious grab to the groin and a thrust of the hips caused Spike to yelp into Rarity's breast, to her enjoyment.

Eager to keep her momentum, Rarity once again broke the contact, scooting forward on the chaise until her rear was level with Spike's head. He made to say something, but his speech was muffled by the fabric of the skirt.

Finally, he managed to convey, "I can't see anything."

"Experiment," Rarity suggested. He'd find out soon enough that she'd gone without undergarments today.

Tentatively, Spike's tongue explored in the dark. A questioning grunt came up from Rarity's hips.

"Those would be my thighs."

His tongue moved. "Uh?"

"Congratulations, you found my southern star. Didn't think you were that risque, really."

"Heugh!" His tongue moved again.

"There's a good man," she breathed, bracing herself against the armrest.

Spike's tongue meandered about her folds, seemingly content to torture them as their owner had tortured him. At seemingly random intervals, he would brush against her bump of flesh, only to stop as soon as he would get a reaction.

Rarity grunted at his teasing, nails curling into the chaise's fabric. She attempted to hasten his efforts by grinding into his mouth, but he wasn't persuaded. Frustrated, she groaned, saying "If you're not going to take this seriously—"

Apparently, Spike had been waiting for just such a moment for her temper to get the better of her. Rarity gasped as his tongue speared her insides, an invisible line of heat racing through Rarity's meat pocket womanhood.

The dressmaker bit into the armrest of the chaise, muffling a scream and wondering for the first time if letting a dragon with an extendable tongue eat her out was a smart choice.

Tapping into her magic, she brought her phone from a nearby end table, setting it to record as she placed it facing the two of them.

For a rainy day, she said to herself.

Finally, she allowed herself to go limp, draping herself over the edge of the chaise lounge while her partner assaulted every inch of her vagina.

She groaned, slapping the side of the chair, but Spike showed no sign of letting up. Her hips were shaking, and a coiling warmth in her stomach informed her of her approaching orgasm. Rarity had to muffle another scream as her partner's teeth brushed against her outer folds, his lips making a kissing gesture even as his tongue snaked through her body.

Her orgasm was powerful and immediate. A dull but blunt wave of pure pleasure mingled with heat roared through her body, sending her toes curling and the tips of her ears burning. She curled her hips around Spike's head, her walls clenching against his mouth. His steaming breath was a welcome sensation on her wet, trembling thighs.

Shaking and exhausted from her overwhelming orgasm, Rarity brushed her hair back from her sweat-slicked forehead. Switching positions was tiring, though she was determined to see their tryst through to its climax.

"Sit up," she breathed, once she had managed to come to a rest on her side.

Spike did as he was commanded, searching for Rarity's expression. His gaze darkened with satisfaction and lust when he saw her, sweating and disheveled. "What now?"

Taking a moment to compose herself, Rarity hiked back her skirt, exposing her reddened clit. "Finish it," she said, her voice low and husky.

With a wave of her hand, Spike's pants fell below his waist, resting at his calves.

Rarity's eyes bulged. "On second thought, don't finish it." She cringed. "I want my cervix to live."

Spike glanced at her. "What?"

Rarity scoffed. "What do you mean, 'what'? That thing could break mailboxes, I am not putting it inside of me."

Spike rolled his eyes. "I can't do anything about it, Rarity. No magic means I can't shrink it."

Rarity blinked. "Why would you ever shrink it?"

"So I don't have to lift weights every time I go to the bathroom." Spike would've rubbed his eyes if his hands were free. "I'm actually average as far as dragons go."

"Somehow," Rarity said, skeptical, "I find that hard to believe."

"Dragon women top out at seven feet, bodies proportional." He stared at her. "If I were any smaller, it'd be like throwing a hot dog in a grocery bag."

Rarity scrunched her nose at the comparison. "Point taken."

She stared at the colossus that dared call itself a penis, and contemplated her choices.

Pro: this was an opportunity that only adult stars and their ilk could ever know.

Con: she would look like a little girl trying to pass as a woman if she couldn't handle it.

Pro: Spike might be a tease, but he was always gentle when it mattered.

Con: if she didn't conduct herself properly, she would probably die.

"I'll do it," she murmured to herself.

Spike rested upright, back to the chaise, as Rarity tried to find a suitable position that gave her a modicum of control. Finally, she settled on taking Spike's place on the chair, controlling his hips with her left hand and grasping his neck with her right.

"Slowly," she grunted, guiding his member with magic. Her hand gave his buttocks a squeeze, before pulling him towards her. His tip slipped into her without preamble, eliciting a gasp from the two of them. Cautiously, Rarity edged her partner ever deeper, stopping every once in a while to breathe and wipe her face on the remains of Spike's shirt.

"Stop, stop, stop," she groaned, placing both hands on Spike's chest to halt his movement.

"Are you okay?" Spike asked, concerned.

"I can't fit it all," she said, sweating. She wiped her forehead, disappointed.

"That's less flattering than I thought it would sound," Spike admitted.

Rarity glared at him. "Not helping."

"Try angling your hips?"

"Do you know how vaginas work?"

"Lady," Spike warned, "you are going the right way for a cock-slap to the face."

"You wouldn't dare," Rarity challenged, scowling.

"Don't you tell me what I would or wouldn't slap with my cock."

Rarity held back a snort. "You are so immature."

"S'what I do," he replied.

The dressmaker puffed out her cheeks. "Alright then, let's give it another go." Once again spreading her legs, she gripped Spike's sides. They both groaned as he entered her, Rarity's womanhood gripping Spike's member tighter than a hyena with lockjaw.

Rarity's nails dug into Spike's back, causing him to frown. "Not so hard," he murmured into her ear.

She let up immediately, red-faced. "I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

Spike scoffed. "You'd have to really work at it for it to hurt. I didn't want your nails to break."

Rarity glared at him. "My nails are the least of my concerns right now."

Spike only smirked, before gently moving his hips forward. "You ready?"

"I've been ready," Rarity replied, rolling her eyes, smirking. Both her hands rested on Spike's rear.

"Aw yeah," Spike said, rolling his eyes in return, "that's how Daddy likes it."

"Oh, shut up already," she groaned. Her legs rested on the back of Spike's calves, idle. The two of them continued their lovemaking, Spike pumping into Rarity with middling strides. Slowly, they worked up to the majority of his girth. Despite his lack of exercise for a substantial amount of time, Spike for the most part retained his endurance. Rarity, still sensitive from earlier activity, panted with the effort. Her face was coated with a fine sheet of sweat, her breasts heaved with every thrust. Her hair was steadily becoming more and more unkempt, a sight Spike found satisfying and arousing in the extreme.

Rarity's hands dropped to her side, feeling as if they had become bars of molten lead. "I can't," she panted, exhausted. Motioning for Spike to continue, she laid her head back, mouth contorting with every movement that her partner made.

Rarity moaned, feeling her sensitive womanhood trace over every contour of Spike's cock, every throbbing vein. He pumped into her with increasing fervor, maintaining his stance despite being unable to brace himself with his hands. Rarity's pale white skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, her face flushed with blood. She whimpered quietly with every stroke, becoming lightheaded and uncomfortably warm. Her legs shaking, Rarity weakly reached up, grasping Spike's face and bringing him low for a deepened kiss.

Before she knew it, Rarity was building up to a second orgasm, weaker but pleasant. It was a lazy pleasure, trickling up her spine like a line of fire. She found it to be similar to drinking a strong glass of wine, warming her from the inside out.

Rarity's finger's clenched and unclenched, toes curling as the first wave of pleasure hit. She rolled her hips in time with the thrusts, pinching at Spike's hips with her thighs. Spike grunted, starting to sweat as his pulsing cock started to lose its rhythm, and Rarity knew he was close.

"Mouth," she moaned, wincing as Spike dislodged from her and somehow managed to stand up straight. He was redfaced, his heaving chest bearing a sheen of sweat.

Rarity leaned forward, hooking her hands around Spike's waist as she pulled him close. Her lips wrapped around his manhood, savoring the taste. She relished in his groans, and she was glad that she had taken the time to record their encounter.

Slowly, she eased him forward into her mouth, stopping midway down his length. She looked up at her partner, winking mischievously as she pursed her lips.

The effect was immediate.

Spike shuddered as he came, knees buckling as his twitching cock emptied itself, and eight months worth of semen made a glopping noise as it flowed endlessly into Rarity.

Rarity maintained eye contact the entire time, observing him as she held his throbbing member in her mouth. Her cheeks were rosy, but her satisfaction was evident in her cocky smile.

As she swallowed for the last time, Rarity wiped her mouth and grinned. "Next time, if you are good," she said between breaths, "you may use your hands."

Once his hands were free, Spike awkwardly donned his clothes, conscious of his friend's eyes on him.

Once he had pulled on his shirt, Rarity asked, "Remind me, what is your phone number?"

Wary, Spike gave her his number, in exchange for hers. "Do keep in contact, dear," she said, smiling.

"You realize you can't just summon me for a booty call, right?" he said, suspicious.

"You wound me, Spike." Rarity said, placing her hand over her heart in mock-hurt. Her wink broke the illusion. "I am a lady, first and foremost, after all."

"Alright then," he said, uncrossing his arms. A cautious smile broke out upon his face, so similar to that of the young boy from so many years ago that Rarity's own smile widened even further. "It was good seeing you again, Rarity."

"You're telling me," she said, embracing him tightly in a hug. It amused her that, despite his growth, the two of them were still more or less the same height. "Best wishes."

After he had gone, Rarity meandered into the bathroom, preparing to bathe before making dinner. She drew up a steaming hot bath, broke out her favorite bath salts, and retrieved her hidden stash of chocolate and wine from the chest near the bathtub.

Curvy figure be damned, she'd finally gotten laid and she was going to celebrate.

First things first, she thought to herself as she undressed, grabbing her phone. Striking a pose with a hand on her hip, she positioned the camera in front of herself and snapped a picture.

As she captioned it, "Happy Belated Birthday," and sent it to Spike, she chuckled, wondering how he would react.

"Are you happy?"

Spike shifted in the back seat of the royal limo. As he expected, Princess Luna had come by nightfall to collect him.

As he had also expected, she was less than pleased with him.

"It isn't enough that you endanger my country and plow the locals, oh no," she had ranted from the driver's seat, "but then you put yourself in a coma for eight months, and even when I come to get you, you reek of vagina." Her knuckles were white. "The only reason you still have your job is because no one else is capable of doing it!"

The tirade he could stand, if not for their company.

"Luna," Fancy Pants said.

"What?"

"I understand the importance of reprimanding one's underlings for their failures," he said, raising his hands as Luna angrily turned on him, "and I am by no means trying to diminish Spike's actions or their consequences." Luna turned back to the road, clenching her teeth. Despite her frustration, her silence conveyed her agreement. "But, with all due respect, he did try his best."

The car was silent for an inordinately long time, and the only sound was that of the tires on the paved mountain road. Finally, Luna said, almost inaudible, "That he did."

Satisfied, Fancy Pants sat back in his seat, facing forward.

Spike knew it was an unreasonable thought, but he couldn't help but notice the similarities of his situation: Princess Luna, his close friend and superior, was berating him for endangering himself, and was projecting her anger out of fear and worry. Fancy Pants, his soon-to-be colleague and mentor, standing up for him, though forcing him to admit to his mistakes in an effort to do better.

He knew it was an unreasonable thought, dangerous even, but he couldn't help but mouth the words.

Parents.

It was all he allowed himself to think on the subject, but a warmth that wasn't kin to any fire spread in his stomach, and a happy, dorky smile started to curl upon his lips. He happened to look outside at the passenger mirror, and saw Fancy Pants wink at him.

After a period of time, when Spike thought it was safe to speak, he asked, "So, why are we driving instead of just teleporting?"

"BECAUSE IT PLEASES ME, MAN-WHORE!" Luna bellowed, shattering the windshield and pelting them with glass.

A matter of minutes later, they stood by the side of the road, standing in awkward silence as Fancy Pants attempted to reform the broken glass with magic.

"For what it's worth," Luna said, "I am glad to see you." She rubbed her arms, pale and deceptively delicate in the light of the moon.

"Same," Spike said. He stripped himself of his jacket, wrapping it around his mentor's shoulders. She smiled gratefully and accepted it. "So, what now?"

"Now," she said, "we groom you for the years to come. The world has grown peaceful while I was away. Compared to how it used to be, at least." She allowed her eyes to wander the horizon. "Hopefully, you will never have to fulfill your duties, but things rarely go the way we wish them to."

Spike snorted. "Ain't that the truth."

Luna eyed him. "I'm curious as to what you think of the situation."

He turned to her. "How do you mean?"

"What do you think you've learned?"

He looked up at the moon, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Altogether, he didn't feel very different from when he sought Luna out nearly five years ago. His relationships were on the level, his friends no longer treated him like a kid, and, for better or worse, his life was going to be much of the same for the foreseeable future.

Spike shrugged. "There's no such thing as growing up. Not really. Most people don't fall asleep for years and wake up in another person's body. You can't fault others for your own mistakes, either, since the only thing you can really do to improve is force yourself to improve." He turned to Luna. "For so long, I was waiting until the moment I would feel like a man. Then I realized, it's never going to come. This is it."

Luna nodded. "It's a scary thought, isn't it?"

Spike nodded in agreement. "I always felt jealous, or mad at other people, for always having it so together. But they're probably just as scared as I am."

The moon princess cooed, patting her charge on the soldier. "Ah, yes, he arrives at the great truth of existence: no one ever knows what they're doing." She sighed. "Not even me."

The young drake hugged her about the waist, and after a moment of hesitation, she returned the gesture, allowing him to hold her.

He squeezed her, breathing into her ear, "Are you still mad at me?"

She shivered at his proximity, and for a moment, she seemed to be restraining herself. She leered coyly at him. "Always."