They traveled Woodland Walk in silence. The sun had set and a cool breeze rolled across campus. Starlight’s head was down, it had been for some time. Anon wanted to say something reassuring to her, but his mind was an error screen. Held fiddled with his pocket lining as he thought about what happened. He felt conflicted. On one hand, he’d liked Starlight’s enthusiasm, but the execution was lacking. On the other, he felt he should have been thinking in a different frame. It was a new dimension; instead of thinking about how sex was executed, he should’ve been thinking about what it meant. That foreign feeling rose inside him again, like he was displaced, someone else. He hated it. He wanted to get away from it, to hide. But then he looked at Starlight. She looked so sad. He would have risked anything to make her happy. That was a strange feeling, too.

He decided to swallow his pride. He stopped. “Starlight.”

She paused too and looked at him. Her eyes were sunken.

Anon walked to a nearby bench. It was wooden, painted green, though the paint was chipped at the edges. He brushed aside a few leaves and sat, then patted the seat next to him.

Starlight looked at the bench, then down Woodland Walk. She lifted a hoof, hesitated, then hopped up beside him. She avoided his eyes.

Anon was out of his element, he knew it. Dedicated, bridge-mending conversation with someone you… With your marefriend? What is this? He inhaled. “We should… Talk about what happened.” His words sounded stiff, even to himself. Why was talking so hard?

“I know,” Starlight said. “I’m… Sorry.”

Anon shook his head. “No, that’s wrong.”

Starlight sank a little further. Anon gave himself a mental slap. He’d meant to say something reassuring. How was he supposed to frame the discussion the right way?

“What I mean is, that’s not it. I don’t want an apology.”

“But I owe you one anyway,” Starlight said. “I embarrassed both of us.”

Her words were a mental slap in the other direction. Of course she’d feel that way, idiot. Now he had three directions. First, bad blow job; second, her motivations for it; third her embarrassment. Alright, the first could be pushed aside. It was his knee jerk reaction to think she was worried about her performance. That was old Anon speaking. The second was big. It made him uncomfortable to think about it, but at least he could procrastinate using number three. He needed to understand her feelings before he started spouting at the mouth.

“You didn’t embarrass me, Starlight,” Anon said. He wanted to add that she could never do that, but maybe that was too much. “And you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. Uh.” His brain hitched again. Damnit. What should she feel, then? Uh oh, she was looking at him. She’d expect more. “You didn’t do that bad a job, really!” Damnit again! No, that was old Anon talking.

Starlight looked down again. “But not a good job, either.”

Alright, he could work with this. “It’s not about that, Starlight.” He put his hand on her neck and stroked her mane. She was tense. “Don’t get ashamed on my behalf. You know how often I screw up. Not that you screwed up. You didn’t. You didn’t screw anything up.” He felt like he was cutting wagyu beef with a hacksaw; he was butchering this conversation.

Starlight met his eyes. He got lost in hers and calmed. “You’re really bad at this,” she said. Fuck, she knew. But maybe that was a good thing.

Anon sucked in a breath. “Yeah.”

They watched a small group of ponies pass. Anon knew the moment he’d dreaded was there. The awkward part. He had to find a subtle way to lead into that part of the conversation.

“Why’d you do it,” Anon said.

He felt Starlight flinch. He realized what he’d said a second too late. He wanted to hide in the passing group.

“I…” Starlight’s eyes returned to the dirt.

Anon felt like he’d tripped before the finish line in a hundred-meter dash. He looked where she looked.

“I mean I…” How to finish the sentence eluded him.

“I don’t know,” Starlight said.

“It just, uh. Well it seemed a bit out of the blue,” Anon said. “Not that I mind. But do you mind?”

Starlight seemed to be in thought. He was unsure if he should say something else. He continued to stroke her mane. She was still tense.

“Did it anger you?” Starlight asked?

“Huh?”

“I thought if I did something you’d like… But did it anger you?”

Anon stopped. “Not a bit.”

He gritted his teeth, then asked, “Did I anger you?”

Starlight looked surprised. “How would you have done that?”

“It’s not like people. Mh. It’s not like ponies are generally happy being told to stop something like that,” Anon said.

Starlight’s eyes were on him again. That was a good sign.

“No, I’m glad you told me to stop. I think I appreciate your honesty,” she said.

Honesty? Is that what it was? A chill breeze brushed the leaves around the bench. He scooted a bit closer to her.

“It’s not something I’ve ever done before,” Starlight said. “I mean, not really. There was this one time at a party with this stallion, but I was so drunk I don’t remember most of it. I’m out of practice.”

“I’ll say,” Anon said. He kicked himself. Why did words slip from his mouth before he could evaluate them? He hastened, “I mean, it’s… It’s not something you can just jump into. It’s like eating a mare out. If you don’t know what you’re doing, it can be uncomfortable.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Starlight said, eyes cast to the side.

Anon shook his head. “Sorry. What I’m too dumb to say is I’m glad you’re bad at it.”

Starlight remained quiet. Anon wanted to murder his tongue.

“What I mean is… Look, I’ve known plenty of girls who’re good at giving head. They’re all total skanks though. They’ve done it a lot. That’s not who you are. That’s why I, uh.” The end of that sentence was “that’s why I like you,” but he was unsure if that line would help or hurt his cause. There were other reasons he liked her. Would that be too restrictive? He chose a different line. “That’s why I’m not with them anymore.”

His own line surprised him. It felt true in an unexpected way. So what was he doing hitting on other mares? The more he thought about it, the less he understood himself.

He felt Starlight’s hoof on his leg. “That’s sort of sweet. I think.”

“I guess it kind of was, huh?” Anon said. But he felt worse for it. Exposed. He tried to push back the feeling. He took his hand from her mane and tucked it beneath her hoof, then held it. His vulnerability resurfaced as unease. “Uh, if a little corny.”

Starlight lifted her eyebrow. “Maybe a little?”

“What made you feel like you, you know. Like you had to do it though?” Anon asked.

Starlight’s ears flattened again. “I’m really not sure. It just felt right?”

Anon rubbed his thumb atop her hoof. “I didn’t pressure you into it, did I?”

“No, it’s just…” Starlight’s eyes darted.

“Because if I did, I didn’t mean to.” He felt too nervous. This should have been easy.

“No, really,” Starlight said. “You didn’t.”

“Then is it something else? Because you know you don’t have to…”

“Stop blaming yourself,” Starlight said. “I mean, maybe you did a little.”

He knew it. His heart sank. “What was it? I was getting too physical, right?”

“No, it’s...”

“I shouldn’t have kissed you in the diner, you probably felt like you didn’t have a choice.”

“No, wait.”

“I just got a little excited.”

“It wasn’t the kiss, no.”

“Was it the tongue? I probably went too far. I was—”

“STOP,” Starlight yelled. “It wasn’t what you did tonight.” She exhaled.

Anon remained quiet.

“I don’t want you to get bored with me,” Starlight said.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been with so many mares, and you’re so, you know, horny all the time. I guess I was worried if we didn’t move further soon, you’d… get bored with me.”

Oh. Shit. He really was an idiot. He sat dumbstruck, her words echoing in his head. He’d been so focused on his feelings entering into a relationship with her, so stuck up his own ass, he’d repeated his cardinal sin on a massive scale. He neglected to think that she might be just as nervous, just as out of her element, just as vulnerable. And there he was, the big dicked jackass, swaggering around with other mares. There he was, proving her fears right.

Anon scooped her into his arms. She squeaked.

“You don’t get it,” he said. But thinking about it, how could she? He only just got it himself. “You’re all I need.” His throat was burning, but men don’t cry. Shut up, eyes.

Starlight’s forelegs lifted around him. “Okay.”

They were locked in their hug for a while. Anon was unwilling to detach, in case his eyes ignored his command. He thought about an old song. Maybe it was a prayer. Yes, all his life he’d prayed for someone like her. But it was too hard to say something like that out loud. He hoped she would get the message somehow.

It was getting chilly. No, it was already chilly. He wondered if Starlight was chilly. She rubbed her nose into him. Maybe she was alright. These thoughts were convenient ways of delaying the last thing he knew he needed to say. He swallowed.

“We’ll move at our own pace, yeah?”

She nodded against his shoulder.

That unease bubbled inside him again. He imagined a Kalashnikov gunning at it. It subsided.

“Let’s go back to the hotel,” Starlight said.

“Sure.”

They decoupled. Both paused to look into the other’s eyes. Starlight’s were watering, too. At least he could maintain some dignity, then. They left the bench together and walked back to their room. Anon realized at some point during the walk they’d just survived their first major hurdle. Maybe they could make this work.

They’d better. He was all-in now.