Moondancer♂ and Anonymous Are Both Gay and Socially Inept Ponies

by Milk and Honey

First published 26th of July, 2020

Moondancer thinks he doesn't need friends. Anonymous thinks sexual harassment makes them. Do they have a future together?

Please imagine the cover art of Moondancer to depict him with pudge. Yes, that's a male Moondancer.

R63 universe. Amending Fences never happened. Moondancer lives alone in a dorm at Canterlot University.

Written for the stallion thread.

Tags by chapter:
Chapter 1: None.
Chapter 2: None.
Chapter 3: None.
Chapter 4: None.
Chapter 5: None.
Chapter 6: None.
Chapter 7: None.
Chapter 8: Unwanted erection from intimate physical contact, magically heightened sensitivity (by accident), accidental hoofjob, premature ejaculation.
Chapter 9: Sexual fantasies, masturbation (solo and imagined mutual), frottage (imagined), 69 (imagined), followed by virgins experimenting with French kissing because one of them read it in a book, an intentional hoofjob, drinking cum from a magical condom, blowjob (real), removing a plus-sized buttplug, making sure a partner is ready for anal, anal, danger of being discovered during anal due to its noisy continuation despite the risk, and (minor) cuddling.
Epilogue: None.

Chapter 1

"Nerd shit, huh?"

Moondancer snapped up against the back of his chair, forelegs flailing to keep from tipping over. He managed to grab the edge of the table and pull himself back to stability, heart thundering with heaved breaths. He shot a glare at the sniggering green pegasus leaning against his table, elbows on it and supporting his head. He looked handsome, young—definitely a first year—and wore a red flag of a cocksure grin that told Moondancer he wanted absolutely nothing to do with this stallion.

"Mind if I sit here?"

Moondancer glowered at him with thick, knitted brows. "Go away."

The pegasus got off the table and took the seat directly across from Moondancer, despite there being an orthogonal chair to maximize distance between himself and the unwanted pony. He slung his saddle bags—designer ones, Moondancer noticed—onto the chair next to him, but didn't take any study materials out. He just propped his head on his hooves again and looked at Moondancer, "So, what's that nerd shit you're reading?"

"Why would I talk to a rude pony that nearly sent me into cardiac arrest?"

"I have been known to stop hearts, but this is the first time hearing it from a stallion." Moondancer hated his smirk.

The pegasus tilted his head to read the titles of the textbook pile that dominated Moondancer's side of the table, "Damn, dude, this is like, the motherlode of nerd-dom. Stellar Rotation, Mana Collisions in the Interstellar Aether, Magnetohydrodynamics in Binary Stars? The fuck's a VLBI?"

"Something a pony studying liberal arts could never understand." Moondancer dug back into his open books, willing himself to block out the prattling pony across from him.

"My reputation precedes me! I didn't think a fourth year would've heard about me this early in the semester, but hey, I guess I'm just that good."

"Good at annoying ponies…"

"The name's Source. Anonymous Source. And you are...?"

"Studying. Leave me alone."

"And you said I'm rude. Can't I get your name, cutie?"

"Don't call me that."

"Why not, cutie? Cuties like you need to be told you're cute or you'll waste all of your time on nerd shit."

Moondancer realized he had re-read the same sentence five times in a row. He sighed, magicking up his taped glasses in a pink glow. "What do you want?"

Anonymous flipped his black mane out of his eyes, "Uh, your name?"

"No. Why are you bothering and insulting me?"

"Felt like it."

Moondancer grimaced. Anonymous was the worst kind of pony. The inconsiderate type that runs on emotions, acting and speaking without thinking. He looked back at his book, "Stop bothering me."

"Why won't you tell me your name? Is it 'cuz I called your nerd shit nerd shit? 'Cuz it totally is nerd shit. Nerd."

With gritted teeth, Moondancer glued his eyes to the page. Scanning, scanning, where did he leave off? Right, key points. He began reading: All objects displaying blazar behavior have strong flat-spectrum thaumic cores—

A hoof caressed the outside of his left hind leg, from fetlock to knee. Moondancer pushed himself away from the table in shock, the scrape of his chair legs echoing in the empty library floor, "BUH"

Anonymous stifled his laughter with both hooves, purple eyes crescents of malicious mirth. Moondancer took deep breaths as the adrenaline from sudden contact wore off. "What is your problem!?"

Between giggles, Anonymous managed to give an intelligible answer, "You still haven't given me your name, nerdball."

"Asshole!"

"Wow, your parents must've hated you."

"That's not my—ugh!" Moondancer hopped off his chair and started packing his saddlebags, "I'm leaving."

"Aw, c'mon, don't be like that, Asshole." Anonymous snickered, "Just tell me your name already. Room number works too."

Moondancer's face got stuck between frowning and confusion, "Why would I give you my room number?"

"I mean, we could go back to my dorm, but I'm stuck with other first years and figured you'd like some privacy. Fourth years get those one-bedroom dorms."

Moondancer's curiosity overtook his annoyance. He couldn't keep himself from asking, "Privacy for what?"

"Are you serious?" A wide grin spread across Anonymous' face when Moondancer cocked his head in response, "Luna's teats, you're a virgin. You're already, what, twenty-two? Are you seriously a virgin?"

"W-What's that got to do with—" The innuendo finally clicked. Moondancer's flattened ears tinted in embarrassment, "Th-That's none of your business, jerk! You can't ask somepony you just met stuff like that!"

"Oh, Celestia, you totally are. Holy shit, that's incredible. What the fuck have you been doing for the past four years?"

"Studying! This is an institution of higher education, not some bar to hook-up at." Moondancer shoved the last of his books into his bags, leaving the reference material he was reading on the table.

"Institution of—you're such a fucking nerd. Uni's all about making friends and connections and shit. Nopony comes here to study."

Moondancer slung the bags over his back. "I don't know where you got that idea from, but it's wrong. I'm leaving."

"Aw, where're ya going, cutie? I'll come with." Anonymous slid out of his chair. Moondancer could see the pegasus' cutie mark; a red question mark, feathered, ending in a quill's nib.

"Do not follow me."

"Why? You look like you could use a friend~"

Moondancer snorted and walked out of the library, taking the stairs down to the first floor. He looked over his shoulder as he exited through the revolving doors and was relieved to see Anonymous hadn't followed him. I hope I never see him again, he thought. He's going to flunk out before the semester ends. His kind always does. They show up, go to parties and get drunk and screw like rabbits. Then exams come around and, uh-oh, you mean I actually had to study?

Moondancer sighed, passing through morning shadows of the quad’s trees back to the third year dorms. I'll just have to come back tonight or tomorrow. The jerk'll probably be off 'partying,' i.e. acting like an animal, hung over, or something else and take the rest of the week off. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, I'll skip to week four, I suppose, since I won’t have access to those reference materials.

He went back to his dorm and settled in for a long, peaceful study session before classes officially began tomorrow.

"'Sup, nerdball."

Moondancer didn't respond. That was his mistake yesterday, responding. Anonymous was a troll, a bully. He was looking for a reaction. All Moondancer had to do was not respond, and he would get bored and go off to do... whatever it is attractive extroverts do. Probably drugs and sex.

"Hey. Heeeey. Ground Control to Major Asshole, do you read me? Heeeeeeeeyyyyy."

Supernovae are classified by their optical spectra—

Anonymous puffed up and shook Moondancer's book, "Stop ignoring me, Asshole. I'm talking to you."

Moondancer focused on the words: if a supernova does not show hydrogen lines in its—

Black, shiny hooves attached to green legs covered the textbook's pages, "Asssssshooooooole."

The book slam,ed shut in Moondancer’s magic, missing Anonymous’ hooves by a hair, “Whoa! Careful there, you could’ve scuffed my hooficure. Not very friendly of you.”

Crap. He responded. Now Anonymous was going to stick to him like glue until afternoon classes started. Moondancer sighed, “Please, please leave me alone. I want to study.”

“What are you even studying for? All morning, it’s just been syllabus this, introductions that, read these pages for next class. You’re going to finish the semester before the first week’s even over.”

“I like to keep up with my classes. And fourth year courses assign a heavy workload at the outset because it’s expected of fourth years to know what higher learning is.” Moondancer opened his book and nosed back to the page he was reading, muttering under his breath, “Not that a first year would understand.” He levitated a quill and scratched out notes as he read.

Anonymous leaned back in his chair, hind hooves braced against the table, pushing it enough for Moondancer’s quill to ink over his previous notes, “First years get easy courses because faculty understands we gotta hop on makin’ connections. By the time you’re a fourth year, like you, it’s expected that you already have a network of peers and professors to help you once you graduate. You do have a network, right, Asshole?”

Moondancer scrunched and pushed the paper aside, copying over his notes, “My name isn’t Asshole, and I’m a third year, thank you very much. Stop bothering me.”

Anonymous snickered, “The mystery of Asshole thickens! His name unknown, his intellect unmatched, his bed unused.”

Moondancer grumbled and read over his copied notes. Satisfied, the ruined sheet is magicked over to the recycling bin and he resumes reading. A blissful twelve seconds passed, fooling Moondancer into believing Anonymous got bored, before the young stallion opened his stupid mouth again, “Speaking of thick mysteries, dat flank tho’.” He let his chair fall and slid with it, hind leg stretched out to press into Moondancer’s squishy flank, “Where do you get that cake from?”

Moondancer yelped and scrambled out of his chair, anger overtaking shock as he shouts, “What is your problem?!”

Anonymous put a hoof against his trembling lips, body shaking with suppressed laughter, “Quiet, Asshole. This is a library.”

“MY NAME ISN’T ASSHOLE!”

“Am I speaking Prench, here? Did I not just say that this is—”

“A library. yes. If you have another outburst like that I will have to ask you to leave.” An old yellow earth mare with a gray bun and horn-rimmed glasses on a turquoise bead necklace approached Moondancer’s study table. The library’s top floor was the designated quiet study area, although as there was nopony else around, she had let their conversation slide. “We can hear you downstairs. Do not disrupt others like that again.”

Moondancer’s ears pinned back in apology. “Sorry, Quiet Time. But this jerk keeps—”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry, too. Anyways, I gotta catch my next class. See ya around, Asshole.”

Anonymous picked up his saddlebags and trotted off. A vein bulged on Moondancer’s forehead as he hissed at the retreating pegasus, “My name is not asshole!”

Quiet Time looked between the two and shook her head, “File a complaint next time instead of shouting, Moondancer. I’d hate for you to be barred from the library.”

He hung his head, rubbing one foreleg with the other. “Yes, Quiet Time.”

“I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Quiet Time, but right now all I need is peace and quiet.”

Moondancer got back into his chair and relaxed. Finally, he could do some intensive studying. He still had about an hour before his next class, so he should be able to get into a good rhythm. And he did, for close to half an hour. He shut his textbook and went to the reference book he had to abandon yesterday.

He nosed it open to the page he dog-eared and came face-to-face with a drawing of a mare presenting for the viewer in vivid, but cartoonish, detail, cutie mark reminiscent of dancing. ‘Foxtrot’ was scribbled in looped cursive, and below that read ‘I can hook you up. She eats virgins. ;)’ The signature for the ‘artist’ read ‘Anonymous.’

He took the picture out and tore it up into small pieces in his magic with a full-toothed scowl, flinging the ball of lewd confetti into the recycling bin. He had no desire to look at that—that garbage. He didn’t want to meet this ‘Foxtrot’ or have some soulless fling. He wanted to study. That’s what he wanted. To study in peace.

He gave up trying to focus on his studies soon after and decided to go to class early. Maybe he’d get some coffee. The cafe on campus knew how to brew it strong. He sighed, packed up his saddlebags, and trotted off for caffeine and a clear head.

Author's Notes:

Moondancer's textbook lines were picked at random from The Role of VLBI in Astrophysics, Astrometry and Geodesy.

Chapter 2

“Moondancer.”

“Eh?”

“My name is Moondancer.”

Moondancer sat at his usual table, studying reference materials as usual, across from Anonymous Source, as usual these days. Anonymous stuck to him like a rash since the semester’s start weeks ago.

Anonymous had been unnaturally quiet during the five minutes he had been here, reading his book, so Moondancer felt… compelled to keep the situation copasetic. That was it. Anonymous was a dumb first year and would easily get bored without stimulation, so Moondancer would keep Anonymous from finding entertainment at his expense.

A smirk played across Anonymous’ lips, “Cute name.”

Of course he would do his best to ruin it. Moondancer’s kindness was wasted on stallions like him. Why did he even bother? Moondancer scowled and went back to reading.

“Cute name for a cute stallion.”

Don’t rise to it, Moondancer. Persevere. Focus on your readings and you’ll make it through. Why did he talk to this stupid, horny teen? All he ever did was proudly express prurient interests and poke fun at Moondancer with crass, puerile jokes. He was nothing but a bully.

Anonymous leaned back in his chair, holding up the paperback he had been reading, the spine broken from him folding the book backwards over itself. Moondancer hated it so much. That kind of treatment towards books was unacceptable. He wasn’t one to care about minor things, like dog-ears or highlighting or notes in margins, all of which he was guilty of, but destroying the book like that served no purpose.

Anonymous met Moondancer’s scowl over the book and unfolded it, showing the creased front cover off. Yellow scars criss-crossed a starry field with two blushing stallions, one a unicorn and one a pegasus, in suits with bubble helmets staring up at space in wonder. The title, styled like stamped metal, read ‘Sleeping Beneath the Stars’. It looked completely lacking in scientific rigor; some decades-old pulp without substance or sense.

Anonymous waggled the book in his hoof, “It’s a good book. You’d like it.”

“It looks asinine and unlearned. Perfect for its owner.”

“Here, let me read an excerpt for you:”

Ion Tail flew to the peak of the Montes Coltillera—

"Flew?"

"Uh, yeah. Ion Tail is the pegasus." Anonymous taps the cover, "See? His suit protects his wings, so don't worry."

Moondancer scowled, "You can't fly on the moon. It has a trace atmosphere. Not enough air."

"Wh—Who cares, dude? It's a good story. Shut up and let me read it." Anonymous coughed and found his place.

Ion Tail flew to the peak of the Montes Coltillera dome and sat down, staring up at the cosmos. He contacted Aphelion Heart on his 'C' comm—

"What's a 'C' comm?"

Anonymous grunted, "Stands for crystal communicator. It's a magic device they use to talk in space. You know, because it has no air or whatever?"

Moondancer didn't respond. The reading resumed.

He contacted Aphelion Heart on his 'C' comm.

"Aphelion Heart, you need to come up here. The view of the Horsehead Nebula is—

"How is he seeing the Horsehead Nebula from Coltillera?"

Anonymous set the book face-down and stared at Moondancer with thin lips and furrowed brows, "What are you even on about?"

Moondancer sighed, talking to Anonymous as if he were a foal; slow and over enunciated, "Coltillera is always facing Equestria. It's the anchor point for Luna's magic. The Horsehead Nebula is in the opposite direction."

Anonymous stared at him. Moondancer rubbed his temples with his hooves, "Which means that they couldn't see it from Montes Coltillera. The moon's facing is locked. And since we don't revolve around the sun like other systems, Equestria's orbit will never allow ponies on Montes Coltillera to—"

"Who fuckin' cares!?" Anonymous stood up from his chair, hooves on the table to lean over it. He lowered his voice to a harsh whisper, "Why are you nitpicking every little thing?"

Moondancer allowed himself a small grin at riling up Anonymous, "Because it's bad science."

"Science isn't the point, Asshole. It's about the story of two stallions admitting their love for each other while waiting for rescue after their spacecraft crashed!"

Moondancer made a derisive snort, "You're right, it's rude of me to expect anything from some two-bit 'red book'."

"You do not call Posie Prose's magnum opus a 'red book'! This is literature at its finest." Anonymous slumped back in his chair, picking the book up and flipping through it to a marked page, "Shut up and liste—shut up. Listen to this:"

Chapter 12: Bivvy for Two

Aphelion Heart shivered back to back with Ion Tail in the crater. The meteor storm did irreparable damage to their ship. Their signal beacon had been destroyed, food reserves split and spilt across the sky. Even if help came for them, they wouldn't be found in time. They were as good as gone.

He hugged himself and stared up at the debris floating away above. It sparkled like starstuff. He searched for meaning in the beautiful destruction, but found none. It was all just an accident, unfortunate circumstance. A small pouch of pudding—

"Don't even fucking think about interrupting."

Moondancer shrugged. He'd had his fun. He was sure Anonymous would leave him alone after today. And then he could finally, finally have a peaceful study session.

A small pouch of pudding tumbled away, ruptured, globules of chocolate flung to Celestia-knows-where. It was the last one. He had been saving it.

Aphelion Heart wept.

Moondancer felt Anonymous staring at him, but he focused on his own books, levitating his quill to take notes, In the case of a black hole, the accreted material can only radiate until it reaches the event horizon R_S.

Ion Trail turned around and hugged him.

"Don't cry, Aphe. We're gonna be okay," Ion Tail said.

"No we're not. This is it. We're toast! We worked so long and hard, and for what? For nothing," Aphelion Heart said.

"We did the best we could," Ion Tail said.

"And it wasn't enough," Aphelion Heart said.

Ion Tail reached around to Aphelion Heart's suit panel, turning on the interphase mode. He set his own to—

"Interphase mode makes their suits combine into one so they can share life support systems and cuddle and stuff. And it just works, so shut up."

Moondancer nosed over to the next page, "I didn't say anything." Hence a quasar with a luminosity of—

"Are you even listening?"

"No."

A hoof slammed Moondancer's book shut, the hard cover swatting him on the nose. He flinched backwards, glasses almost falling off his snout, "What the heck is your problem?!"

Anonymous looked upset. And… hurt? "Let me finish this part and I'll leave."

Not like Moondancer cared. He rubbed his snout and grumbled, "You could leave now, instead, and save us both the trouble."

Anonymous responded by reading aloud:

He set his own to interphase mode, as well. Aphelion Heart let him, and their suits combined into a bivvy for two. Ion Tail spooned Aphelion Heart, resting his head on the unicorn's neck.

"I want to be alone," Aphelion Heart said.

"You didn't stop me from joining you," Ion Tail said.

Aphelion Heart didn't respond. Ion Tail gently squeezed his friend. Aphelion Heart whimpered and curled up, making it easier for his mission partner to hold him. Ion Tail licked the tears from Aphelion Heart's cheek.

"And you saved me from the meteors. Thank you," Ion Tail said.

"How can you say thank you when I'm the one responsible for destroying the ship?" Aphelion Heart asked.

"Because I got to hug you again," Ion Tail said.

Aphelion Heart turned around to face Ion Tail. His tears shimmered like liquid stars in his eyes.

"But I doomed both of us. I could have saved the ship, too. I'm sure of it," Aphelion Heart said.

"No, you doomed yourself for me. I would have died, and you could have continued repairs and returned home," Ion Tail said. He rubbed his nose against Aphelion Heart's.

"I couldn't have! I don't want to go home without you," Aphelion Heart said. He hugged Ion Tail back and returned the nose rub.

"It's a little late to say this, Aphe, but I love you," Ion Tail said.

"I love you too, Ion," Aphelion Heart said.

Ion Tail pulled his head away and searched underneath his wing. He pulled a pouch out from it and offered it to Aphelion Heart with a smile.

"Is that chocolate pudding?" Aphelion Heart asked.

"I was saving it for a special occasion. I think this is as special as it can get," Ion Tail said.

"I knew mission control wouldn't have made a basic inventory error like that!" Aphelion Heart said.

Ion Tail held the pouch. Aphelion Heart tore it and spat the trash between them. Ion Tail bit down on the pouch, feeding Aphelion Heart. It was hard to eat, and he got pudding all over his snout. His tongue reached out to lick it up.

"Wait," Ion Tail said.

Ion Tail spat the pouch out. His tongue came out and he licked up the pudding. Aphelion Heart blushed.

"Ion," Aphelion Heart said.

"Aphe," Ion Tail said.

Their lips closed in for a kiss—

"You can stop now. I don't want to listen to you reading smut."

Anonymous threw the book at Moondancer, hitting him square in the horn and making him wince, glasses hitting the desk. "It's NOT smut! It's erotica! The highest form of literature, the only art that dares to show the full pony experience!" He swiped the book and stuffed it in his saddlebags. "I have to go to class, Asshole. See you never."

"Bye!" Moondancer glazed his voice with cheer, satisfaction on his face despite the sore horn. He magicked his glasses back onto his snout. That was it. Anonymous Source was out of his life for good. He double-checked that he had written down the formulae correctly and continued on with his studies. Long-slit aurascopy of stellar ley lines in nearby galactic nuclei…

Moondancer stretched at his desk in his dorm, magicking away his textbooks. He had just finished an entire semester's course load for the second of his six classes this semester. It was too late to start studying something new, but too early to turn in. His thoughts turned back to the library today and scowled. Of course Anonymous would try to read him a red book aloud. Way to play into stereotypes. Loud, boorish, always thinking of sex…

And why read a book about gay stallions to him? It's not as if he cared about stallions. Or mares. He was perfectly happy to be studying. In peace and quiet, alone. Studying alone. Studying… wasn't something he could do right now. But, that was fine. He had other hobbies to distract himself.

Hobbies such as… reading! He had a collection of good science-fiction novels, emphasis on the science, that he brought with him from home. He got up from his desk and left the common room for his bedroom, crawling up on the bed to peruse the titles adorning the shelf on the wall above the headboard.

They had a layer of dust covering them. Moondancer frowned. How long had it been since he'd sat down with a good book? He wiped them down with a hoof, shielding his face from the dust with magic. Let's see… Neighvan, no… Fervor Fringe, no… ah, here we go. Woolly Words.

Contrary to his name, his fiction was anything but soft. The only errors Moondancer had found in his works were things Woolly never could have known due to scientific advances that had happened in the decades since he stopped writing, but Moondancer wouldn't fault him for it. He pulled it from the shelf and settled underneath his covers, turning off the lights and turning on his reading lamp.

The Centennial Condor, adrift in space, ran on waning power crystals…

Moondancer closed the book, satisfied. He hadn't taken the time to appreciate a book in a long, long while. Since before he was even a first year, if he recalled right. Had it really been that long?

He looked at the bedside clock. An hour until sunrise.

Had he really been reading that long?

Moondancer groaned, pushing his glasses up to rub his sore eyes. Of all the days to stay up all night reading, it was one with morning class. In two hours, he had to be in Dr. Kelpier's class and—

He bolted upright as terror took hold. There was a test today. He wasn't going to be in top form. How was this going to affect his grade? GPA? Scholarship? Graduate school recommendations? Career? Life? Everything was on the line here and he just fucked himself because Anonymous made him want to read a book.

He held his head in his hooves, "Crap, crap, crap!"

Calm down. Just get coffee. He pulled back, forcing his head up. Coffee and camp outside the class. His class was the first one so there's no way he could miss it, even if he fell asleep. Dr. Kelpier would wake him up and he'd take his test and go back to his dorm and sleep. Except he couldn't, because Dr. Nebulebray counted attendance as part of her course's grade even though that was stupid and unnecessary because she wrote the damn textbook on magic in geodetic applications so her lectures were straight from the book and—

Moondancer closed his eyes and took a deep breath, resting his head in his hooves. All he needed was t—

Moondancer woke up. The sun was low enough to shine through his windows. He just fell asleep in his own hooves. They peeled off his cheeks and he could feel the marks they left. He slept through both classes. His posture left him in ringing pain when he moved. He didn't feel like catching the last half of the third, or going to the fourth. He didn't feel like doing much of anything right now, so he curled up underneath the covers and cried.

Chapter 3

Moondancer slunk down the hallways of the sciences building for Dr. Nebulebray's office, head hung low. Dr. Kelpier was firm about not allowing Moondancer to take the test. He had a no make-ups policy when there wasn't a good excuse, and reading a book all night was not a good excuse. Moondancer might still manage to get an ‘A’ if he achieved a perfect score for everything else in the class, which, at the moment, felt an insurmountable task.

He didn't have high hopes of Dr. Nebulebray being any more forgiving. He'd been reading and re-reading her syllabus during the walk over and found it read much like Dr. Kelpier's. His ears folded. It must be department-wide policy, or even school-wide. He had half a mind to tuck tail and turn around now.

But he didn't. He came to her ajar office door and, after half-listening to hear if she was busy, half mustering the courage to be told he was going to have to deal with the consequences of his mistakes again, entered. He left the door ajar.

This was the first time Moondancer had seen Dr. Neulebray's office. It was the second time during his education that he had seen a professor's office, preferring to catch a professor after-class for any clarifications he needed, or wrote his questions down and sent it through the school post if they couldn't be resolved during the fifteen-minute break between classes. Considering her teaching style and strict personality, the atmosphere of her office was a surprise.

Small effects adorned her desk and shelves, photographs of friends and family standing next to vibrant houseplants and commemorative shoes from the many royal nature hikes that spanned Equestria. The Badlands one stood out, ruddy from the dust and harsh winds endemic to the region.

Little of the wall's original color could be seen past posters announcing new book releases and theater productions of all genres, many Moondancer did not recognize. Dr. Nebulebray was nursing coffee and going over another class' essays with red ink. She made the pages bleed.

Her eyebrows raised when she saw him. "Moondancer. Unusual for you to make use of visiting hours. What's the occasion?"

Moondancer slipped into the soft chair and looked down at his hooves, tapping them together as if the words he needed to say would appear if he found the right rhythm. His voice quavered as he spoke, "Uhm… yesterday…"

"You skipped my lecture?"

Moondancer nodded, the words stinging his ears. His cheeks felt hot, so he adjusted his glasses, hoping the reflection of the lights would grant him some cover.

Dr. Nebulebray took a sip from her coffee, adjusting in her chair to better face Moondancer, "And you were hoping for forgiveness to not have your grade harmed by inattendance, yes?"

He nodded again. A silence followed. Please, I know I don't deserve it, but please, please…

"It's department policy not to allow forgiveness barring good reason, Moondancer. It's also in my syllabus. Yet you came here, knowing that. Did you hope to convince me with those tears?"

Moondancer shook his head. It was all he could do. What did he think was going to happen, anyway? If anything, she was worse in her office. This was her home turf. And he expected charity?

"I don't think I'm being presumptuous when I say that students like you, Moondancer, feel strongly about my attendance policy. Correct?"

Of course she wouldn't miss an opportunity for a lecture. He nodded again.

"Higher education is more than learning from a book, Moondancer. Anypony can go to the library and study. I've seen you there every time I drop by. I daresay the library is your home, and your dorm serves you in two ways: a place to sleep, and a place to study when the library isn't open. Correct?"

A weak nod.

"My attendance policy is to encourage friendship amongst students. It usually helps ponies like you, but you're a stubborn one. Only participating in discussion to answer questions, gone as soon as lecture is over, and never seen chatting before, either. Nose always in those books."

Dr. Nebulebray drained her coffee, crumpling the paper cup and tossing it into the recycling bin, "You make for a terrible student, Moondancer."

Moondancer crumpled up much like the cup.

"Brilliant, yes. Always engaged with the big and small pictures, animated in conversations, your insights inspiring and the excitement in your eyes nostalgic. I see a bright future ahead for you in research. But."

She shuffled the papers on her desk into a neat stack and put them to the side. She spread her hooves out on the table. "A good student grows. You aren't growing, not as a pony. Why did you miss my class?"

Moondancer looked up. She was smiling at him. Warm, caring. It was uncanny and confused him to no end.

"Take your time. Somehow, I expect a good reason from you."

Moondancer wiped his eyes. He noticed he was shaking. He took a shuddering breath, opened his mouth to talk, but his voice hitched. He went back to breathing. He tried talking again. It took several minutes for him to calm down enough to talk. Dr. Nebulebray's smile never lost its soft understanding.

His voice was weak, and speech filled with pauses, turning a simple sentence into a public address by a sweating orator, "I was reading a book."

Dr. Nebulebray let Moondancer rest before she pressed him, "What book, if I may ask?"

"Harmony Lost, by Woolly Words."

"A classic." She had a twinkle in her eye, "You know, my copy is signed by Woolly himself." She pulled a ratty book down from her shelf, the cover yellowing and breaking along creases. The spine was broken so badly that the book splayed open when set down on the desk, showing off torn pages of underlined passages and commentary. She flipped to the inside of the front cover and, sure enough, there was Woolly's signature in silver marker. Moondancer stared.

"This is yours?"

She nodded, "And you're more than welcome to look, you know. Books are for sharing."

Moondancer took it in his hooves and turned the pages. The text itself didn't have his attention, but the markings around it. More than once, he found himself nodding along with Dr. Nebulebray's commentary. The margin notes were filled with miniscule equations and gushing about novel applications of theory, mirroring his own thoughts. Moondancer blinked and felt tears stain his cheeks.

"I was so excited to have my book signed by him, you know. I daresay I had a crush on him. I was the first one in line at Noble Barn's and shouted across the store to talk to him as he came to the desk where the signing took place, about how I had never read such a wonderful book in my life. He stopped to read my notes and I could've passed on right then. I'll never forget what he said to me next."

"What did he say?"

Dr. Nebulebray rested a cheek on her hoof, melancholic, "He said, 'You missed the point.' I could barely give him my name to sign. He shattered me with four words."

"That's... awful."

She laughed, "I was so upset I threw the book into the garbage when I left. I went back for it later, because I still loved it, but not after galloping home and crying into my mother's neck about it."

Dr. Nebulebray relaxed in her chair, leaning back, "So I read the book a hundred times—you can count the tallies on the back cover—until I understood what Woolly had meant. And you know what? After a hundred times, I still didn't. It remained a mystery to me until I was a fourth year, much like yourself."

"I'm a third year."

Dr. Nebulebray smiled at the comment, and Moondancer couldn't understand why, "Exactly like yourself. It wasn't until I met my husband that I understood Harmony Lost."

Moondancer waited for her to continue, to reveal the mystery. And waited, and waited. "Did he read it, too?"

"No."

"Did you talk about it with him? Your husband is Dr. Quanthaum, right? Did he understand some science that was lost on you? I actually have a few questions myself about how Woolly Words addressed Princess Narcissa's immortality and—"

"Nope. I don't think he'd even know the book existed if he hadn't seen my poster of it. He was never one for 'rigid fiction,' as he puts it."

Moondancer sank back, bemused, "Then what? What's the answer to Harmony Lost?"

"You'll be richer for discovering the 'answer' on your own, Moondancer. And you will, someday."

He disliked that knowing smile on her muzzle. He passed the book back across her desk, and she shelved it. She turned back to Moondancer, "I'd say you had good reason to miss my class, Moondancer. You must have been starved for a distraction if you missed an entire day's worth. But—"

Moondancer's growing smile faltered.

"In return, I want you to make a friend by the time exams come around. It doesn't even have to be in my class, although I think they would all make wonderful additions to your social circle."

Moondancer struggled to not roll his eyes. He wasn't about to look a gift in the mouth, and forgiveness at all was better than what he had expected, but the condition attached annoyed him. Who did Dr. Nebulebray think she was, giving him a friendship assignment? Princess Celestia?

"I'll… try."

"That's all I ask. Now, run along. I've kept the pony outside waiting long enough."

Moondancer turned his head and saw somepony waiting through the crack. He shuffled off with a murmured 'thanks' and pushed the door open. There stood Anonymous, scowling at him. Moondancer was caught off-guard. Dr. Nebulebray only taught third- and fourth-year classes. Hard science and maths classes, at that. Why was he, of all ponies, here?

"Move."

Moondancer shuffled past Anonymous into the hallway. The pegasus entered and shut the door. Moondancer stood there and stared. He had thoughts of eavesdropping, but shook them from his head. He needed to catch up with his studies.

One out of two was a failing grade, but he still felt like he managed to achieve something with his visits. He was just glad the other two professors didn't take attendance or had tests yesterday. But they both had tests tomorrow.

Moondancer pushed his glasses up and trotted off. It was going to be a long study session after classes. He was thinking of picking up Chineighse. Maybe stir-fried mushrooms. Yeah, that sounded good.

Chapter 4

Moondancer groaned on his favorite library table, quiet so as not to disturb the others making use of the silent study environment. Midterms were around the corner and Moondancer hadn't so much as had a repeat conversation with anypony in any of his classes, let alone made a friend. He had no idea how to. The last moments where he killed conversations replayed in his mind.

"Actually, that isn't Einstifle's general relativity formula; it's…"

"Party? Ugh, why don't we have a study session instead? … O-Oh, your birthday..."

"But you have to admit Unicorns are the strongest tribe. We built Canterlot!"

He learned every way possible to not make a friend. This was stupid. He was one of the smartest ponies around—besides his professors, and even then he had doubts about the assistant professor of chemistry, Dr. Burns—so it should be easy for him. Trivial! But it wasn't working. He either felt like a lost colt in conversations or ponies got offended—for no reason! (well, besides the birthday party goof)—when he talked. This was why he didn't make friends. He didn't even want them. Ponies were irrational and took away precious hours of his day, cutting into his studying time. And reading time, when he rationed it in. It was a preventative measure to keep from having another day like that.

No, he was better off without ponies, like he thought. But he still needed a friend by the time finals came around to keep his grade up in Dr. Nebulebray's class. So how was he going to manage? He didn't have enough free bits to convince somepony to play the part for the rest of the semester, and most ponies were too stupid or emotional to be his friend. There wasn't anypony he knew from primary education that he could—well, there was D—no, no there was not. So that was it. He'd lose his perfect GPA in his last year, for no good reason other than some donkey playing Princess Celestia. Why did she make attendance such a large part of the grade?

Moondancer rocked his head against the table from side to side, watching ponies that didn't have a worry in the world besides their midterms.. Dr. Nebulebray wouldn't accept making her into a friend—he could already hear her going on about peer groups—and there wasn't another pony anywhere on campus that he'd been able to have more than two conversations with.

A familiar green pegasus came into view, studying at a table on the other side of the room.

Nope, not another pony anywhere.

As Moondancer watched Anonymous, he noticed he actually was studying. Shocking. He didn't think the stallion could sit down for longer than ten minutes if he wasn't feeling somepony up or bullying them. If he could be studious like that, then maybe—no. He couldn’t.

There was no pony Moondancer could have n+1 conversations with, where n was the number of times Anonymous pestered him.

Actually, those weren't even conversations, were they? It was harassment. By that logic, he'd never had a conversation with Anonymous, and that put him dead last on the list of ponies Moondancer had the potential of befriending to save his grade.

Oh, Luna, he saw. Moondancer turned his head to look in the opposite direction. Anonymous saw him staring like a creep. Please don't come over here. Moondancer flipped open his book to study. Ignoring the fact that Anonymous had the ability to keep on talking with Moondancer even after his feathers got ruffled, there was no possibility of friendship there, real or bargained for.

Moondancer took a quick glance and Anonymous was looking at him. Moondancer's eyes flicked back to his books and stayed there, glued. He wasn't even reading the pages. He was trying to get the idea of befriending Anonymous out of his head and it wasn't working and there was no reason for that and Anonymous took the seat opposite of him.

"Caught ya starin', Asshole." Anonymous wore a frown. He whispered, leaning across the table, "What gives? Thinking of how to give me shit over studying, or about glazing my hot flank?"

"Wh—no!" Moondancer scrunched his snout, ears flat and turning red. He spoke too loudly and attracted angry glares from a nearby table's study group. Oh, how he hated that wicked smirk. His whisper back was low, but harsh, "I wasn't thinking about you at all. Go away. I have to study."

"You've been sitting there for half an hour, books closed, moaning to yourself. And you were staring at me for the last five minutes of it. Think I wouldn't notice?"

Moondancer's head went back into his hooves. No solution to his grade problem, and now he wasn't going to get any studying done. Great.

"What's the deal? Why have you just been sitting here looking nerdy and sad?"

"As if I'd tell you, jerk. You'd just make fun of me."

"Tell me or I'm going to get us kicked out of the library."

"You can't do th—HIII!" Moondancer sucked in air as Anonymous' hoof traveled up the inside of his leg, prodding the soft interior of his thigh. An angry 'shush' let him know he was one more molestation from being forced to study at his dorm, sans much-desired reference books.

Anonymous kept his giggles down with a hoof. Moondancer glared, flushed. "Fine. You made your point. I've been sitting here thinking because I…"

"Because…?"

Moondancer dipped his head and chewed on the neckline of his sweater. He couldn't just out and say he needed to make a friend for class, or explain why he—aha! He could.

"Because of you, I have a make-up assignment to make a friend."

The deadpan stare wasn't the reaction Moondancer hoped for. He continued, "Because of your stupid book, I got a reading bug and read a good one instead of sleeping, and I missed my classes because I fell asleep. Dr. Nebulebray said I would get forgiveness for my absence if I made a friend before the final exam, and since this is all your fault, you owe me."

"I don't owe you shit. In fact, you owe me for being an asshole last time we hung out, Asshole."

"How can you call that 'hanging out'? All you did was interrupt my studying and make fun of me and sexually harass me, like you just did not two minutes ago?"

"I don't see you stopping me. So, which is it? You into this, or just stubborn?" He motions down his taut barrel with a hoof.

Moondancer stared. He caught himself, growled, and started packing up his books, "You're right. I need to stop being stubborn. Maybe Luminous Dust will give me another chance at being her friend, birthday invitation screw-up notwithstanding."

Anonymous scowled, "'Her,' huh."

Moondancer put his saddlebags on. Anonymous took a book out of his and pushed it into Moondancer's face. It was Posie Prose's Sleeping Beneath the Stars, "If you read this book and tell me what you think, I'll be your friend."

"Fat chance." Moondancer pushed the book out of the way and walked out of the library. He'd have to make do studying at his dorm.

Moondancer was sure he could make friends with Luminous Dust. He'd seen her test scores before, and she was smart, so they should have a lot to talk about besides boring social junk, like birthdays and such. And if he didn't make friends with her, he'd just take the grade he was given. His scholarship didn't demand a perfect GPA; that was something he demanded of himself. No, he was not going to read a red book to make a friend. He wasn't desperate.

Moondancer was desperate.

He didn't understand how it all went so wrong. She was a brilliant mind, so why did she concern herself with trivialities like pop culture and gossip? Where was the substance in that? She didn't want to talk at length about anything he was interested in from class or from his readings. He tried to play along, but it didn't work. She excused herself from the conversation. That was that.

Moondancer couldn't eat last night. He couldn't stomach the thought of getting a grade worse than perfect. That idea ate away at him. It was even worse than the idea of reading smut to get Anonymous to pretend to be his friend until the semester was over. And so here he was, chewing the neckline of his sweater, head buried in his forelegs on his favorite library table. Waiting for the jerk to show up.

"Well, well, well. Look at that. The egghead's about to crack."

Fuck.

Anonymous slung a foreleg over the back of the chair as he sat down, hind hooves braced against the table, leaning back. He wore a shit-eating smirk, "What's the matter, nerdball? Too intelligent to make friends?"

"Just give me the stupid book."

Anonymous let himself slam back into the floor, cackling. The silent study floor was empty after midterms, but the library patrons below were not going to be happy, "You know, Moondancer, I've been thinking."

"That's a—" No, Moondancer, no. Grit your teeth and bare it. You need this.

"First?" Anonymous smirks, "Not bad, but I've heard better. No, Moondancer, I think you might have had a valid complaint before. Well, really, it was flattery. You know, about me running through your mind all night? Making you lose sleep?" He snickered.

Moondancer tried to fuse with the table. Did he really need a friend? He didn't, right?

"So I figure I'll read one of your books in exchange for you reading Sleeping Beneath the Stars. Fair?"

No. "Fine."

"Great!" The book bumped against Moondancer's nose, "I'll meet you back here in, oh, a few days? I know you're a very busy stallion with many dates to keep—" Moondancer hated that snicker, "—and I'm not sure I'll be able to make it through this paperweight without falling asleep once or twice."

Moondancer looked up. Anonymous was waving a damaged, familiar copy of Harmony Lost, "Dr. Nebulebray let you borrow hers?"

"Yeah, we talk books a lot. More hits than misses with her, which is better than I can say for most of the mouthbreathers in my classes."

Moondancer sat up in his chair, puzzled, "Why do you even know Dr. Nebulebray, anyway?"

"Oh, she's teaching a course on space as ponies knew it through the history of fiction. Fascinating stuff. Did you know there was a prevalent theory among some reclusive Earth tribes that we revolved around the sun? They'd never even seen a unicorn before!"

Moondancer exhaled loudly. Not quite a laugh, more of a sigh with levity, "How long ago was that?"

"Oh, ancient history. It was just a tidbit from the second class, but I've been giving Dirt Apple shit for it ever since," Anonymous grinned, "He got his licks in a few classes later when we analyzed the literature surrounding Icarus, the first pegasus to die flying to the sun. And not the last…"

"Ancient history in the second class? Dr. Nebulebray always rushes through formalities in my classes to get to the material."

"Well, she didn't this time, and I'm thankful. I dropped a class to add that one my first week here. Something about it spoke to me."

Moondancer quirked an eyebrow, then shook his head. Anonymous wouldn’t have; he was being capricious, nothing new there, "I'm going to go back to my dorm to read this in peace and quiet."

"I've got some lotion if you need it."

Moondancer took several seconds to connect the dots between Anonymous' words and his waggling eyebrows. Moondancer recoiled, "Ugh, you're disgusting."

"It's natural, baby. And you're definitely gonna need it by the end. Posie Prose knows how to fuck a page."

Moondancer gagged, leaving a laughing Anonymous behind. He was all too happy to go back to his dorm. Anonymous would have definitely been breathing down Moondancer's neck as he read. The thought made him blush, and he shook it away. Anonymous' lewdness was contaminating his mind, although he didn't trust that stallion to be behind him and not try something, either. With a shiver, Moondancer cantered off.

Chapter 5

Moondancer didn't understand the book. No, that wasn't quite right—he knew trash when he saw it, and this was unmitigated garbage—but understanding how anypony could call this the 'highest form of literature' was beyond him. The science wasn't. It was fantasy that stole the coat of grounded and well-researched science, put it on backwards, and pretended it fit. In fact, Moondancer had kept track of every inaccuracy he found, writing summarized descriptions of why and how each one failed to stand up to the rigors of pony knowledge. He found it fun.

Anonymous hadn't asked him to be forgiving to the book, or fair. All he wanted was for Moondancer to read it and share his thoughts. Well, he was going to get them. Moondancer doubted he'd be able to suffer through the lurid details Posie Prose slipped between nonsensical descriptions and actions without his inked screed. And there was so much talking, all of it inane! Posie spent two pages on a conversation about the proper way to assemble a haydog. Really. He skimmed over that noise—skimmed over most of the noise, really, and skipped the smut. He was glad to be done by the second night of reading.

He waited at his favorite table, watching ponies come up and go down the stairs, excited. He had a hefty stack of note-sheets clamped together, sliding the awful book around on the desk in idleness as he waited for Anonymous to get here. It had been several days, so the pegasus should be here soon—and there he was.

Anonymous trotted towards Moondancer with springing steps and fluttering wings, wearing a nice smile. Moondancer didn't know what to make of his enthusiasm. Cautious optimism seemed safe. Moondancer smiled at Anonymous with condescension, rapping his hooves on his formidable, thirty-page thesis on just how dumb Sleeping Beneath the Stars was, "You seem—"

"Harmony Lost was awesome!" Anonymous flounced into a chair and pulled the book out; it had grown many colorful tags that fluttered in the air as he shook it, "I can't believe a nerd like you would read something so—so moving!" He shushed back at the peeved ponies around him, but lowered his voice anyways, "It's one of the best books I've ever read."

Moondancer's optimism threw caution to the wind. He blinked away his surprise and replaced it with well-deserved smug, "I'm surprised you were able to understand it, much less enjoy it."

Anonymous flipped a hoof, leaning over the table, "Woolly did a good job of using analogies to keep me from getting too lost in the technobabble. But all the science-y mumbo-jumbo—"

"It is not mumbo-jumbo. Dr. Nebulebray and I could tell you that—"

"—shut up, Moondancer—all that crap isn't even the point. This is the best tragic romance I've ever read."

He missed what Anonymous said next. Moondancer looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Tragic romance? Did they even read the same book? It was a war story—the best war story written to date. Possibly ever.

"—And so when Princess Narcissa couldn't overcome her vanity, that just made Orion Star's sacrifice all the more poignant—"

"What are you talking about? It's not a romance novel. It's military sci-fi. It's about the war between the Empire of Echoes and the Terra Resistance—"

"What are you talking about? Did you not read the book? The war was commentary on tribal politics, a conceit to justify Orion's one-sided romance for Princess Narcissa, although it wasn't boilerplate dribble by any means. Why do you think the last chapter was just the last transmission Princess Narcissa sent Orion Star before he betrayed her and rammed the cockpit of her flagship, killing her and ending the war?"

"Second-to-last chapter. I always skipped it, anyways. It wasn't relevant to the plot, and frankly, ramming a ship into another in space is just—"

Anonymous growled, standing up from his chair and pushing his face against Moondancer's "An epilogue isn't—it was the plot! Did we even read the same fucking book?!"

Moondancer retreated, ears flat, "Apparently not. You must've read some crap from your own library by accident. Harmony Lost is speculative science-fiction on what the future of ponykind might look like if we devolved again into distinct tribes, yes, but had advanced far enough that each tribe had their own spacefaring technology! You can see the love and care Woolly Words put into every faction's technology, with extensive research and triple-checked math. He actually understands how much fuel and food and crew it'd take to command a ship, unlike Posie Prose's hoof-waved horseapples! They didn't have even enough fuel for a round-trip! They were doomed from the start!"

"You can shove your math up your ass! Both books are about the characters and their relationships. Both were all about ponies loving each other! How could you miss that? Do you… do you not understand other ponies?"

His voice went quiet, "Is this why you have no friends?"

Moondancer stood up and pressed back against Anonymous, pushing him into his chair, horn sparking, "I don't need friends, that's why I don't have any! I don't need friends to study! I don't need friends to do research! I don't need friends to be happy!"

"You both need to leave." Quiet Time's stern voice cut the argument down.

Moondancer realized that he had been shouting. All around him were angry ponies, glaring. He hissed at Anonymous, who looked lost, "This is your fault."

Anonymous got off his chair with a "sorry" and walked off down the stairs. Moondancer grimaced at his pile of notes he had made for Anonymous and magicked them into the recycling bin, slinging his saddlebags on and trotting off with flushed ears. He endured everypony's stares as he left.

Anonymous waited for him outside, leaning against the library garden's stone retaining wall. He trotted up to Moondancer, wearing a frown, probably a fake one, "Dude, I—I'm sorry, I didn't know. About your, uh..."

Moondancer walked right past, but he followed. Moondancer kept his eyes straight ahead, "Know about my what?"

"Er, you know, your… because you don't get, uh, other ponies?"

"What are you talking about? I understand other ponies just fine. In fact, that understanding is why I know I don't have any need for them."

"You do? So you can read facial expressions and stuff? You know what 'ears down' means?"

Moondancer met Anonymous' eyes, "What kind of question is that? I'm not a foal!"

Anonymous looked away, "Well, like, it's good if you can. That stuff can be hard when you have a… disability."

"Disability!?"

"Or maybe it's a disorder? I'm pretty sure it's not a disease. Wait, is disability offensive? Look, man, I didn't mean to be—"

"I am NOT disabled!" Moondancer threw his side into Anonymous', pushing him away, "And if you're just going to insult me, then fuck off."

Moondancer cantered away. Anonymous caught up with a flap of his wings, keeping pace, "Okay, okay, you're not the D-word, my bad. I'm, uh, I'm still sorry though. Hey, stop."

"What for?"

"You were supposed to tell me what you thought of Sleeping Beneath the Stars."

Moondancer snorted, "I wrote an essay on every stupid thing in the book. You can go dig it out of the paper bin in the library if you really care. I'm not going to waste my time telling you how it was the worst thing I'd ever read."

"Why did you throw it out? Shit, dude, you could've at least, like, thrown it at me or something." Anonymous sped up and cut Moondancer off, forcing him to stop at a fork on the quad, shielded from the afternoon sun by large sycamores, "I seriously wasn't trying to piss you off back there. I—"

"You called me a disabled, friendless loser to my face, right? That's definitely what you tell ponies when you're trying to be nice to them."

"I didn't call you a loser, dude."

Moondancer scowled, "Whatever." He tried to step around Anonymous, but he spread his wings and side-stepped to keep blocking Moondancer. He closed his eyes and growled, "What were you trying to do, then, if not insult me?"

"I thought I was about to have a good conversation about a book I liked! But then you got all nerdy on me and started talking about nerd shit and I'm like, 'did we even read the same book?', because it sure didn't feel like it!"

"And now we're back to this. No, I'm done." Moondancer stepped forward, but Anonymous refused to move. They pressed chest to chest, "Get out of my way."

"You'd really rather take a hit to your grade than be friends with me, huh?"

"If I could get points for punting you with my magic as far as I could, I'd have a GPA above four." Moondancer stepped around Anonymous and headed for his dorms.

Anonymous trotted up to his side, "Why don't you understand other ponies?"

"Assuming I don’t—which I do—why do you care?"

"Because you're fucking weird, bro."

"Insult me some more. That'll work!"

Moondancer quickened his pace, and Anonymous kept it, "Just answer the question."

"I have no reason to talk to you, jerk. How am I supposed to use reference materials now that I'm kicked out of the library? Quiet Time has probably banned me. The rest of this semester is going to suck, and it's all your fault."

"Look, I'm sorry, but like, I didn't know you were…"

Moondancer broke into a canter. Anonymous kept pace, "Ugh, ignore that. Hang out with me!"

"No!"

"Why?"

"You're the second-biggest jerk I've ever met!"

"Second? No, that's not important. I'm trying to be friendly, here! Don't you want a friend?"

Moondancer came to a stop outside the entrance to the residence hall he was staying at, "I don't need friends. I already told you this!"

"What about your grade?"

"I don't care about my grade anymore, because somepony just got me banned from the library. This semester's shot." Moondancer entered the building, and Anonymous followed him, "Go away!"

"But we could have fun together!"

"I have no interest in bars, parties, drugs, sex, or any other ways you debase yourself. Stop following me."

They entered the stairwell, Anonymous neck to neck with Moondancer, "We don't have to do any of that, we can do something you like, instead. I like other stuff, too. Give me a chance."

"You're too stupid to understand anything that I would like. We have nothing in common."

"You don't know that!"

Sweat had Moondancer's glasses falling from his snout. He magicked them back into place, "You're sociable, I'm not. I'm smart, you're not. You enjoy being a crass, rude, attention-seeking jerk while I enjoy quiet self-study. No, I do know, and you know it, too." He walked up to the door on the landing, entering the hallway of the floor where his room resided.

Anonymous followed behind him, stopping short of the door Moondancer stood outside of, "Give me a fucking chance, dude."

Moondancer fished a key out from his sweater's pocket and unlocked his dorm, "Why do you want one so badly?"

"Because it's sad to see somepony so—shit, no, I didn't mean it like that!"

Moondancer entered his room and shut the door in Anonymous' face, locking it. He dropped the key on the disused cabinets by the entrance and went to his desk, slinging off the saddlebags in the dark. He ignored Anonymous' muffled voice, turned on the reading lamp, and studied until bedtime.

Chapter 6

Moondancer found a manilla envelope waiting for him on the floor before his dorm's front door one morning. It was addressed to him by Anonymous. He stepped on it and went to class.

“Moondancer?” Dr. Nebulebray’s severe expression wasn’t unusual, but being called on by her after class was. He walked up to her desk, thick eyebrows knitted. He had a suspicion on what the conversation would be about. “How has your friend-making been going?”

He rolled his eyes. Of course this was what it was about. “I’ve given up.” When he saw her frown, he amended with a stutter, “For the time being.”

“I never took you for a pony that gives up, Moondancer.”

“I know my limits.”

“Are you really fine with having your grade harmed?”

Moondancer magicked his glasses up his snout, “No, but I have to live with the consequences of my actions.”

“And you’re fine with the consequences of giving up on another pony’s attempt at friendship?”

Moondancer looked away. The classroom was empty, his peers outside respecting the private instructor-pupil discussion they could see through the door’s glass pane. He scuffed a hoof against the rug, “I’m not going to be friends with him. He’s a jerk.”

“He does have quite the mouth, does he not? It’s refreshing to hear in these stuffy halls, though; like a breath of air.”

Moondancer’s eyes hardened. He looked back at Dr. Nebulebray, “His ‘refreshing’ behavior got me kicked out of the library. This semester’s ruined, and so is my perfect GPA.”

She smiled, “So I was right to check up on you, then.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t check the folder he left for you, did you?” She held up a hoof to halt his questions, “He worked very hard with me on it. I think you owe him another chance.”

“But he’s a jerk!” Moondancer stared in disbelief. Had she even met Anonymous before?

“He’s a little abrasive, yes, but from the behavior I’ve seen from you, you’re the pot calling the kettle black.”

He gave her a scowl, “We’re nothing alike. He goes out of his way to—to piss ponies off!”

“I assure you, he’s kind in his own way when you get to know him.”

“Yeah, right. He wouldn’t know kindness if it plucked his primaries. Much less be able to show it…”

Dr. Nebulebray shrugged, “Well, you have ample evidence waiting for you at your dorm. Why don’t you go and test your hypothesis?”

Moondancer grumbled a non-reply and left for his next class.

The envelope sat on his desk, unopened. The hoofprint was clear; he twisted his step into it. He felt a hint of guilt, or perhaps it was shame, for the foalish act. He’d been staring at it for a minute, unwilling to dump its contents out. Did he not want to give him a chance, or was he scared? No, he wasn’t scared. There was no way for Anonymous to salvage—no, it wasn’t even salvage. You can’t salvage something that never existed in the first place. Ugh.

Moondancer didn’t have anything to lose but time, and he wasted enough of that staring at the envelope. He’d scan the contents, confirm what he already knew, and dump them into the recycling bin. Then he’d study, friend-free, how he needed to be. His magic undid the brass clasp and shook the envelope, papers sliding across his desk.

On top of the thick stack of stapled papers were a few loose-leaf ones. The first, folded into quarters and most prominently stamped, was a poster-sized, full-color “technical” drawing—more of a cartoonish facsimile, really—of Orion Star’s Centennial Condor, roughly how he had imagined it. The hull was cut-away, allowing the artist to draw the bridge, engine room, and living quarters in loving, inaccurate detail. One corner was devoted to the Centennial Condor’s specifications, correct—no doubt thanks to Dr. Nebulebray—down to the third significant figure; another to a drawing of the main battery of varied gun pods in the wrong positions and out of scale with the ship. In the last free corner, the ship’s designation as it might appear on official Empire of Echoes dossiers stood boldly. The artist’s signature below read ‘Anonymous, for Moondancer,’ with a heart. Crimped by his hoofprint.

He felt like shit. He shook that feeling away. Why should he feel bad? Anonymous thinks some… stupid poster is going to get him forgiveness? He couldn’t even tell port from stern. It was worthless. Moondancer folded the poster up with care and set it aside, going through the rest of the pile.

Moondancer’s thirty-page packet ripping Sleeping Beneath the Stars was next. Anonymous wrote rebuttals in red ink, but as he turned the pages, the defenses came down and he saw Anonymous agreeing with him on certain plotholes made apparent by his scathing review. His eyes skimmed the page, reading the last sentence aloud, “... In the end, it doesn’t diminish the work in my eyes, but you do raise good points, and the story would have been stronger with more attention paid to those details.”

The words brought little joy to Moondancer. Just like Anonymous to rob him of the satisfaction of winning an argument by turning it into an apology. An apology he was still not going to accept. Beneath the packet was another letter, a written apology. The last in the stack. Anonymous’ script was pleasant to look at.

Moondancer, I deeply regret what I said to you that day. I really was trying to be nice, but I don’t know how to do that. Obviously. I’m really, really, really sorry. I didn’t want to upset you. I just wanted to hang out with you, even if you can be challenging at times, and I can be… worse.

I have another apology gift but I want to give it to you face-to-face. Meet me outside the library after classes tonight. Or tomorrow night, hopefully, because the gift won’t be any good after. I’ll take it as a no if you don’t show up by then.

Oh, yeah, I talked with Quiet Time and you’re not banned from the library, but I am. That’s why we have to meet outside.

Sorry, again. I fucked up.

Moondancer snorted. Holding a gift ransom? Unsurprising behavior from Anonymous. He looked the apology over and over again. Not being banned from the library is good news, at least. But Moondancer didn’t want to buy the apology. Anonymous had called him challenging, he didn’t mention why he wanted to even be friends in the first place, and the ransom were good excuses not to.

He looked out the window. It was night. He wanted to be stubborn, to not go and make Anonymous suffer for what he had done, to not be baited into having a conversation he didn’t want with a pony he didn’t like about a topic he didn’t need to discuss. But a small part of Moondancer, his conscience, nagged at him. This was a lot of effort to go through, and although he didn’t understand the motives, it was… the most anypony had ever done for him. Bad as the poster was, drawing it must have taken Anonymous days to complete. He even had Dr. Nebulebray’s help, at least for part of it. If only it wasn’t Anonymous.

Moondancer needed a break from studying, anyway. He left for the library.

It may have been a trick of the moth-swarmed sidewalk lamps, but Moondancer swore Anonymous lit up when he saw him walking across the quad to the library. He became less so as Moondancer approached, and settled into morose pebble-kicking when Moondancer stopped before him.

Anonymous looked up from his miniature soccer at Moondancer, looking… shy? “‘Sup?”

Moondancer glowered, making Anonymous shrink back, “You have something for me?”

“Uh, yeah. So, uhm, I got these tickets, and… well, here’s yours.” Anonymous pulled a slip of glossy paper from beneath his wing and hoofed it over. Moondancer looked at the writing on it. A Woolly Words lecture on science fiction!? And it was scheduled for two nights from now at the Canterlot Royal Theater. He looked up and saw Anonymous holding a ticket, as well, “I thought that we could, uh, maybe go together.”

Moondancer narrowed his eyes. Anonymous looked down at the ticket, “But, if you really don’t want to hang out with me, uhm… here.” He held it out, “I don’t want to ruin it for you.”

Moondancer magicked the ticket out of his hoof. He opened his mouth to insult Anonymous—he had thought of many on the trip over—but clammed up when he saw the sadness in those eyes. Well, what did Anonymous expect? Everything to be fixed like—no, it wasn’t even fixed. There was nothing there to fix. Right?

“Uh—guess I should’ve expected that. Heh.” Anonymous shook his head and smiled, “You’d probably want to go with Luminous Dust, anyway. She’s more your speed.”

“I-I, uh...” Moondancer looked away. Anonymous was making this difficult. Giving Moondancer second thoughts, making him actually feel sorry for the pegasus. Who was Moondancer going to go with, anyway? Luminous Dust was as mysterious as any mare he’d ever met before, and inviting Dr. Nebulebray would be weird. She’d probably be too busy with coursework this late in the semester, anyhow. Going it alone was an option, but it seemed wrong. His thoughts and eyes kept going back to Anonymous, who gawked at the stars with feigned interest. He really did seem sorry, and really did seem to want to be friends, for whatever reason… “Why?”

“Huh?” Anonymous snapped back to attention, “Why what?”

“Why are you doing all this?” Moondancer waved a hoof, “This… apology stuff. Why do you want to be friends so bad?”

“I like you.”

Moondancer wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he blinked.

Anonymous continued, “I can tell you’re different from other ponies—not like that, I mean, like… you’re interesting. You’re a lot more fun to argue with, too.” He laughed with a little, genuine smile, “So, yeah. I wanna be friends.”

“Fun… to argue with?”

“Don’t you love a good argument?”

“Discussions, debates, battles of intellect have their appeal. Yours lack substance.”

Anonymous snorted, “Guarantee you I can run circles around you the minute we’re not talking nerd shit.”

“Meaningless, meandering chatter about haydog assemblage, perhaps? Not interested.”

That smirk found its way back onto Anonymous’ face. It suited him more than looking sad, “Oh? Scared?”

“Hardly,” Moondancer said with a scoff, “I have far better things to do with my time than explain why the sauce goes on the bun first.”

Anonymous’ eyes lit up, “You philistine. You like soggy buns?”

Moondancer bit his lip. Was he going to let himself be goaded into this conversation? He should’ve kept his muzzle shut to begin with if he wasn’t. Besides, maybe this… could be fun. He liked winning debates. “Have you ever heard of a toaster, Anonymous? Or does your foalish tongue prevent you from enjoying depth of texture?”

“Depth of texture? It’s a fuckin’ haydog, my dude. You’re not just a nerd, but a pseud.”

“It is not pseudo-intellectualism to enjoy well-crafted street cart cuisine! But, considering the crap you consume for books, I shouldn’t expect you to understand the dimensional extravagance a well-toasted, seasoned bun begets the haydog.”

“Cuisine? Toasted and seasoned buns? Why are you even eating a haydog at that point? Go to some fancy sit-down and let us hard-working ponies enjoy honest, old-fashioned fair fare, bonehead.”

“Tribalism from a birdbrain. Typical.” Moondancer magicked the ticket back to Anonymous with a little smirk of his own, “At the very least, I’d like to hear how wrong your thoughts are on the lect—”

Anonymous hugged Moondancer, “It’s a date!” He took the ticket and flew off, laughing, before Moondancer could say a reply.

So he shouted one, instead, “It is NOT a DATE!” He watched Anonymous until the pegasus had disappeared behind the tree-tops in front of the first year’s dormitory. The fruity scent of the hug clung to him, the warmth refusing to leave, making his chest tighten with an uncomfortable fuzziness. He turned around and took a stomping step toward his own dorm, shaking everything from memory. “Jerk.”

Chapter 7

Moondancer and Anonymous shared a two-seater at the opulent theater close to the stage, a pair of hoof-rests the only barrier between them. That didn’t make him uncomfortable; Anonymous’ ‘accidental’ touches while waiting for the lecture to start did. They were warm and he wanted it to stop.

“Would you please keep your hooves to yourself? Woolly is due to talk any minute now!”

Moondancer flinched away from Anonymous’ hoof as it patted his shoulder, “Relax, dude, these seats are just super uncomfortable. Hard to settle in—speak of the devil.”

The theater cools from bubbling noise to a simmer of whispers as Woolly Words took the stage. An ancient, bald thing with liver spots and an off-white coat walks over to the podium aided by a cane. He coughed into the mic and brought silence.

“Good evening. I hope you are all well. My name is Woolly Words, and I’m an author, best known for Harmony Lost and Redshift, Blueshift, among a few others. As a writer of science-fiction that has been around for many, many years, I must say I am dissatisfied with the majority of what I have read; thus, I will be breaking my vow on teaching by example and lecture, instead. This lecture will be about the most important, least seen aspect in science-fiction today: characters…”

Moondancer elbowed Anonymous’ creeping leg off the hoofrest, shooting him a glare. He pretended not to notice. Moondancer’s resistance to the little contacts here and there waned as Woolly Words’ lecture picked up. The old pony had a dry wit that accompanied skilled oration to keep him invested, to the point where he didn’t notice Anonymous’ foreleg rubbing against his until the lecture wrapped up an hour and a half later. He jerked away, “How long were you doing that?”

“Eh?” Anonymous looked down at his leg and shrugged, “Didn’t even notice. But, damn, what a great lecture!”

“How could you not notice you were rubbing up against me?”

“I got comfortable. You don’t question comfortable, ‘specially not when it’s as elusive as it is in these awful seats.” Anonymous stretched himself over the seatback, making too much noise.

Moondancer cringed, looking around, “Don’t be so loud. Ponies are staring at us.”

“Like I give a shit when I’m your date. Let’em.”

“I am not your date. This is not a date. We are never going on a date.”

“Whatever, dude.” Anonymous slid out of his seat, eyes on Moondancer as he joined him on the ground. They followed the crowds out together, “So, did Woolly name-dropping Posie Prose herself finally convince you that—”

“—a broken clock is right twice a day? It’s good evidence.” Moondancer rolled his eyes, “Was that the only reason you brought me here? To prove a point?”

“Nah, it was to prove two points. He spent, like, fifteen minutes dedicated to the magnum opus that was the final chapter—the REAL one—of Harmony Lost. How deep the character threads went, how things couldn’t have turned out any differently, how everything from the setting to the premise was purpose-built to tell the story of unrequited love that ended the only way it could have—in tragedy.”

Moondancer’s eyes rolled again, “The characters being so developed were hardly necessary. The ideas explored were the main attraction, and what ideas they were! Don’t tell me you didn’t feel even a hint of wonder when he described the process Earth Ponies used to synthesize fuel for—”

“Nerrrd.”

His eyes completed a third revolution around the room, “Of course you didn’t.”

“Hey, I did appreciate it. It sounded pretty cool, I think? That was the bone juice analogy, right?”

“Bone juice?”

“The fresh squeezed bone juice, millions of years in the making.”

“That’s not fresh. And it wasn’t described as juice! And many more components went into it than just bones. The actual basis of the fuel was—”

Anonymous checked Moondancer’s side as they left the theater, an island in the thronging crowd, “Nerrrrrd.”

Moondancer huffed, “You are such a jerk.”

Anonymous flashed a smile, “So, where should we go next?”

Moondancer looked up at the starry night overhead. He didn’t like how city lights dimmed the depths of space, but he could imagine what it must have looked like. The moon was still low in the sky, the evening young, “If I make it back to my dorm, I’d be able to get some more studying in.”

“What? This can’t be the end of our date!”

“It’s not a date.” Moondancer turned with a shrug for the campus, clopping down the lamp-lit cobblestone road, “Being able to listen to a lecture by Woolly Words was fun, though. I appreciate the opportunity.”

Anonymous trotted up beside Moondancer, too close for comfort, “Don’t you at least want to get a bite to eat, or something? You can’t study on an empty stomach.” He turned his head to look back at Moondancer’s hindquarters, a lilt to his voice, “Although something tells me you don’t have that problem~”

Moondancer’s ears folded, “You’re rather rude for a hypothetical date. Is this how you treat all the mares you hook up with?”

“Ponies enjoy positive attention paid to their appearance, Moondancer.” Anonymous slipped a wing over him, but Moondancer slid out from it on reflex. “Anyway, see any place you want to eat at? My treat.”

“Calling a pony fat isn’t positive,” Moondancer mumbled under his breath. Anonymous showed no signs of hearing it. Moondancer slowed down and looked around the street. If Anonymous was paying, he may as well get a free meal. Prench… would be too expensive. That bistro looked expensive, too; his eyes kept wandering, seeing crowds of ponies seated at tables and lines of would-be diners waiting for an open spot, “Every place here looks too expensive or busy. Actually, I know a Chineighse place. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall restaurants that never draws a crowd. If you’re paying, I may as well get something I know I’ll like.”

“So kind of you to not want to waste my bits, Moondancer.”

“If you’re worried about that, we can just go to a Hayburger. Although I think you’d get a better bang for your bits with my place.”

“A better bang, huh~? I wouldn’t mind that, not at all.” Anonymous’ laughter made Moondancer blush and walk faster, speeding up into a trot. Anon caught up. “Hungry, are ya? Yeah, let’s go get Chineighse. I’d love to see one of your oh-so-rare haunts.”

Moondancer stayed quiet and trotted faster. Anonymous, thankfully, took the hint, and the two stallions were off.

It really was a hole in the wall. One covered by a glass door and dimly lit by a red-and-white sign saying Chineighse, several ponies inside eating at one of the three tables that could be squeezed into the little shop without receiving a fine by the fire marshall. The adjoining buildings looked little better; Canterlot’s backstreets had cheaper rent for a reason.

The bells chimed as they entered. Moondancer was greeted like family by the blaze-bearded earth pony working the counter, “Moondancer! So good of you to visit tonight. What’ll you and your friend be having?”

Moondancer smiled, happy to see somepony he actually liked. “Di San Xian for me, Dim Sun. I don’t know about him.” Moondancer turned his head, but Anonymous was no longer beside him.

“I’ll have what he’s having!” Anonymous called from the sole two-seater table, leaning his chair back until it touched the white-washed wall. A fiery glare from Dim Sun had him stop leaning on the chairs, a little embarrassment on his snout.

The register opened. Dim Sun looked at Moondancer. Moondancer looked at Anonymous. Anonymous threw a bag of jangling bits across the room with an underhoofed pitch, Moondancer shaking off surprise in time to catch it in his magic. He shot a glare over his back before counting out the bits. He sighed at Dim Sun’s raised eyebrow, “No, I don’t know why I’m hanging out with him, either.”

Dim Sun nodded, “It’s like that sometimes. Food’ll be out in a jiffy!”

Moondancer levitated the purse back with him to the table, sitting across from Anonymous. The pegasus leaned on the table, scratching his mane, “The fuck’s Di San Xian, anyway?”

“Why did you say you’d have it if you didn’t even know what it was?”

“I figured a gourmet like you would know what’s up.”

“Gourme—I am not fat!”

“Whoa, relax! I’m just saying you know what’s good in life. Besides, I like a little heft.” Anonymous’ leg was expertly kicked away by Moondancer before it could connect, “Relaaax. We’re all friends, here. You, me, that dude behind the counter...”

“Friends don’t call each other fat, even if they joke about liking it.”

“What makes you think it’s a joke, dude?” Anonymous leans further across the table, a twinkle to his eyes as he stares down Moondancer.

Moondancer looked away and sputtered, unable to form words. Anonymous leaned back in his chair with a smirk, clearing the table for Dim Sun. He sets down a tray with two teacups and a teapot with steam streaming out the spout, a half-opened box of sugar cubes provided alongside it. “It’ll be a little while longer on the food.”

Moondancer thanked him and magicked one lump into his cup, dissolving it with hot orange pekoe poured over. Anonymous hoofed three lumps into his cup and held it out for Moondancer. Moondancer leveled his brow, “Take one out.”

A state of confusion drew borders on Anonymous’ snout, “Are you actually doing this right now?”

Moondancer levitated the teapot out of Anonymous’ reach, his face unchanging, “Yes. Take one out.”

Anonymous scrunched, “I know how I like my tea, Moondancer.”

“You like it wrong. Take one out.”

“Fuck you, I’m not taking one out. Pour me my damn tea.”

Moondancer stared Anonymous down, “Take. One. Out.”

Anonymous stared back. The contest held, neither stallion willing to blink or budge. An errant under-table hoof slid along the underside of Moondancer’s thick thigh, making him jump, splashing tea from the pot on the table. “I am going to pour this over you if you don’t stop sniggering and take one out.”

Anonymous let loose a melodramatic sigh somewhere in his fit of giggles, “Fiiiiiine, I’ll take one out.” He dumped his cup over the sugarcube box and puts two back in, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I am not cute.” Moondancer poured Anonymous tea after dragging the box of sugarcubes to his side of the table. “And you’re wasting that chance you begged for. Jerk.”

Anonymous frowned at the box being taken out of reach. He swirled the cup of tea, smelling it, “I don’t see you walking out on me.” He sipped, mulling it. “... Nah, needs another. Hoof my blocks over.”

“I’m about to ask for a take-out box.”

“C’mon, don’t be like that. Look, I’m sorry.” Anonymous reached across the table.

Moondancer took his hoof off the box of sugarcubes, “If you’re sorry, then act like it.” He winced as Anonymous plonked another cube into his tea and sipped with satisfaction. “You need to stop drinking soda if you need three cubes. Two is understandable, but three is one too many.”

“Am I the one that looks like he chugs soda all day, here? In case you haven’t noticed, I got an athlete’s build, while you… do not. Not that that’s a bad thing, though. I think I already mentioned that.” Anonymous sipped more tea, “Mmm. Three is perfect.”

“Academic achievement leaves little time for physical exertion.”

“I ain’t complainin’, dude. Oh, food’s here!”

Dim Sun balanced two heaping plates on a tray on his back, sliding it off onto the table, “Enjoy!” There’s barely enough space for both trays. After nods to the chef and a quick game of tetronimos, the table is overloaded in a manageable way with napkins, drinks, and dinner.

The white, square plates curved up at the corners, each heaped high with a trio of crisp, seared vegetables on white rice, covered with sesame seeds and a fragrant garlic and soy sauce, slivers of scallions scattered throughout. Black eggplant slices and vibrant green bell peppers chunks contrasted the skin-on potato quarters. Moondancer dipped his head down and ate, a mouthful of savory delight playing on his tongue, biting through the fried vegetables’ fragile exterior into the tender center with a happy hum, licking his lips of errant rice.

Anonymous made a show of his enjoyment, the noises he made borderline pornographic and worryingly sweet to Moondancer’s ears. “Hot damn, this is great! How do you get eggplant to be this crispy?!”

A laugh boomed from the back, “It’s what eggplant you use, my friend, not how you cook it! It’s a special variety from my home country. Difficult to get, but oh-so-rewarding!”

Anonymous went back to stuffing his face. Moondancer made an approving grunt and followed suite. There was inexcusable pride in hearing Anonymous loving the food, but he felt it all the same. At least he could enjoy Anonymous being too busy to talk.

“So, tell me about yourself.”

Moondancer shed an internal tear for peace cut down in its prime. “What kind of question is that?”

Food splattered back onto the plate as Anonymous talked with his mouth half-full, “Iunno, like, a friendly one?”

“Disgusting.”

“Sorry,” Anonymous swallowed.

“It’s a stupid question to ask. It’s too broad, too vague. Tell you what about myself? Should I give you a chronological overview of my life? Tell you my favorite color, or food, or something else equally trite? See, this is the problem with small talk; it’s just a waste of—”

“Goddamn, dude, it’s just a question. You don’t need to give a lecture on it.”

Moondancer huffed, “If you actually care, ask a meaningful question instead.”

“What do you consider to be a meaningful question, then, so I don’t send you into a temper-tantrum?”

“I’m not having a temper-tantrum. I’m explaining why this perfunctory social activity of ‘small-talk’ is a pointless endeav—”

A held-up hoof interrupted him, “What do you want to do after you graduate?”

“Ah… go onto graduate school. Then earn my doctorate, get a spot in HAPL for my pet project, manadynamics of lunar bodies in cold-nebula stellar precursors. Dr. Quanthum works there, and he should know me through Dr. Nebulebray, so I have an in. You didn’t understand any of that.”

Anonymous shook his head, “The fuck’s a HAPL?”

“Horsekins Applied Physics Lab?”

Anonymous stared at Moondancer. Moondancer pushed his glasses up with a sigh, “The leading research and development lab in Equestria for astrophysics, among many other disciplines? Everypony who’s anypony in physics fields works there. It’s the lab. Everywhere else is a pale imitation for hacks.”

“Nerd shit, gotcha. You’re not gonna have any problems with that, guaranteed.” Anonymous resumed eating.

Moondancer rubbed his temples, “Uuuuugh… damn liberal arts majors.” He used the silence to go back to cleaning his plate.

“Sho—gulp—so is that it?”

“What do you mean, ‘is that it’? I know exactly where I’m going and how I’m going to get there. What more could there be?”

“I mean, good on you for having goals, but like… you don’t want to travel? Meet a band you love? Find love? Get married, have foals...”

Moondancer growled, “No.”

“No to what? The foals?”

“I’d be too busy with research.”

Anonymous scooched forward, closing the distance between them. “But do you want them?”

“I… I want to work at HAPL.”

Moondancer watched Anonymous pick up his cup of tea and take a sip. He hummed, “More?”

Moondancer looked down at his plate of food. Anonymous leaned over his, “You want to work at that lab more than you want to have a wife and kids?”

“Of course I do. What kind of stupid question is that?” Moondancer dived back into his plate, close to finishing the meal.

“Hmmm.” Anonymous reclined and took another sip, “So you do want to start a family?”

Moondancer pulled away from his food, “No, I… I don’t know.” He licked his lips, savoring the coated grains of rice.

Anonymous stuck his tongue out and moved his head forward, stopped, retracted his tongue, and picked up a napkin, pushing it at Moondancer’s face. “You missed a spot.” He giggled at Moondancer’s consternation, “Uh, sorry. It’s—it’s an older brother thing…”

“I’d hate to see how anypony related to you turned out…”

“C’mon, don’t be like that. I’m an only child, anyway. I volunteered at the orphanage.”

Moondancer quirked an eyebrow, “Community service?”

“Fuck’s sake, dude, I’m a jerk, not a criminal. Besides, they liked me well enough. I’m cool.” Anonymous flashed a cock-sure grin.

Moondancer found a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, shaking his head to hide it, “You don’t need wings to fly when you have all that hot air.”

“You love me.”

Moondancer hid his mouth with a hoof, “You wish. The only thing you’re good at is annoying me.”

“I do wish.”

Moondancer sputtered into his hoof, wetting it. He stopped himself from wiping it on his sweater, using the napkin Anonymous dirtied instead, “What do you—”

Anonymous burst out laughing, tears coming to his eyes, “The look on your face! Holy shit, you thought I was serious?”

Moondancer hit the table, “When you say stuff like that so seriously, it’s hard to tell!” His ears flushed hot as Anonymous held his stomach, bending over, “Why do you keep fu— scr—… messing with me?!”

“Beca—hah—ause you’re too damn cute!”

The boiling point was reached. “I’m leaving.” Moondancer pushed the table into Anonymous and stood up.

“H-Hey, wait! Don’t leave!” Anonymous pushed back against the table, freeing himself to chase Moondancer out the door, “I’m sorry! I’ll stop messing with you, so don’t—”

Moondancer spun around, red, “You’re not sorry! You’ve just been making fun of me the entire night. I’m some kind of joke to you. That’s it, isn’t it? Just some—some kind of big joke! Brought me out here to laugh at!”

Anonymous backpedaled, “Dude, I didn’t mean—”

“My name isn’t DUDE! It’s MOONDANCER!” Moondancer advanced. He could see ponies staring, scurrying along in the street. He didn’t care.

Shrinking back, Anonymous stumbled for words, “M-Moondancer, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“If you’re sorry, then act like it. I told you that already, right?” He stomped forward, “Tonight was supposed to be an apology, right? You’re really fucking bad at apologies, Anonymous!” Moondancer blinked away a tear. Then another.

Anonymous’ head hung low beneath Moondancer’s brow-beating rage, “I know. Look, I—I’m trying, alright? I—”

“Trying isn’t good enough.”

“But I AM trying, ain’t I? I drew you that poster, I wrote an apology, I took you to a lecture by your favorite author, I paid for your lunch, I—”

“—acted like a jerk the whole time you were doing it! You keep stringing me along with favors and presents so you can keep me around! Like—like you were buying me off to be your friend!”

Anonymous’ silence was damning. The pegasus was folded on the cold stone of the sidewalk, on the verge of tears himself.

“Like you were…”

“M’sorry, dude…”

“You… were.”

Anonymous hiccuped.

The realization was like being dunked in cold water. Moondancer looked down at the younger stallion before him, the one he just shouted down to the ground, a tear-stained, shaking leaf. Shame pushed his anger onto the backburner as he reached out and hoofed at Anonymous’ withers, “Uh, I… l-let’s go back inside…”

Anonymous nodded, limping out of view of pedestrians through the door. Moondancer follows with his tail tucked and head low.

Dim Sun stopped cleaning off the table when the bells chimed at their entrance, “That was quite a… ah, back for seconds? I’ll get you a fresh pot of tea.” He gives Moondancer and Anonymous a fatherly smile, trotting off to the back with dirty plates and cold tea.

The restaurant was empty.

Anonymous flopped into his seat and buried his head in crossed legs atop the table. Moondancer stood there, staring at him. What was he supposed to make of this? Moondancer’s anger wasn’t satisfied by making Anonymous cry; it was redirected at himself, and that made him feel awful. Awful for feeling awful about being awful to an awful pony—no, he wasn’t entirely awful, but—Moondancer shook his head and sat down, letting Anonymous have the table. How was he supposed to handle this?

Should he?

He was well within his rights to leave Anonymous, storm off back to his dorm, and turn in for the night. He’d done nothing but be a creep and a jerk all night long. And Anonymous’ problems weren’t his. He had some kind of issue, issues, a twisted personality that made him stand out from the crowd—in a bad way—and kept him from joining it. No, he could join it, he’d just pay his way in.

Was that really joining it? Or buying a day pass?

Dim Sun’s cough didn’t answer Moondancer’s questions, but it did distract him from them, “Tea’s here, gentlecolts. Enjoy.” He waited for Anonymous to slough off the table, set the tray down, and flipped the ‘open’ sign in the door to ‘closed.’ He hushed Moondancer and headed for the back, “Take your time. Tea can’t be rushed!”

Were all ponies this understanding?

Moondancer avoided looking at Anonymous. He magicked sugar cubes into the cups—one for him, three for his… acquaintance—and filled them. He stared into his cup, only found tea, and drank it in annoyance.

“I—uh, I’m sorry. I-I’ll leave soon. I just need… a minute.” Anonymous’ voice dragged Moondancer’s eyes up to the pegasus. He looked bad, like he had been battling back from the verge since he approached—since he was pushed to it a while ago. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t fooling anypony, but he wasn’t crying.

“Tea.” Moondancer winced. The word was barked out, harsh, flaking rust. He coughed, took a sip, and tried again, “Have tea.” Oh, much better, Moondancer.

Anonymous took his cup in both hooves and dragged it close, nursing it as regulars did down on the strip, “Sorry.”

Moondancer’s sweater found its way into his mouth. He chewed it, thinking over what to say. What he wanted to say and what he should say. He found the categories beginning to overlap and sighed, “I… I accept your apology, I guess.” His eyes narrowed in mental pain, the last words tacked on without thought. It hurt, but he had to try harder, “I mean, you didn’t seem sorry, but—”

He set his cup down on the table with a hushed curse, splashes coloring the surface with amber tea, “I. Accept. Your apology. And I’m… sorry, too.” He concentrated on wiping the table down with a sweater sleeve.

“Don’t be, dude. I’m a jerk.”

“I’m not sorry. I mean, I am, but—I’m not saying sorry because you’re—gah!” Moondancer adjusted his slipping glasses, ”I did to you what you did to me before. That’s what I’m sorry. For. That’s why I’m sorry, I mean.” He forced himself to meet Anonymous’ eyes. They would be pretty if he wasn’t crying. Ignore that.

“Meh… I deserved it.”

“You do-oon’t.” That got a laugh from Anonymous. “You don’t.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Moondancer.”

“No, I—Okay, you did, a little. But I’m still sorry, even if you did deserve it.”

The conversation lulled. Moondancer poured himself another cup, and Anonymous when he needed one. He still felt that he had things to say—too many to track in his head, to grasp and pull out and say, but things that he had to say all the same. He coughed, drawing Anonymous’ attention away from the door. His eyes were still moist, but he didn’t quiver at the edge of crying anymore, so Moondancer spoke with confidence, “I didn’t think you could cry.”

He always said the stupidest things when he was confident.

“Surprise!” Anonymous tried to light his face up, but it was clear the bulb had broken. The fake laughter only hurt.

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t. It’s stupid, but… I guess I didn’t expect someone as egotistical as you to be capable of anything beyond bravado and sycophancy. And seeing that you are… even if it was coming, and I’m justified, I still feel bad about it. So, I’m sorry.”

Anonymous turned back to his tea. Moondancer copied him. The conversation died again, with Anonymous eyeing the exit. Moondancer wanted to say more, but he worried about doing so. He’d been talking a lot, hadn’t he? Talking poorly, too. If he kept talking to Anonymous, would Moondancer be preventing him from leaving? Even if Moondancer wanted to say more—assuming he’d be able to figure out what that was and how to say it—he shouldn’t trap Anonymous in a conversation he didn’t want to have. Right?

“Pathetic, isn’t it? Me, I mean.” Anonymous slid the cup between his hooves, “No real friends, just… buying others’ company, because I… well, you know how I am. Nopony would hang around if there wasn’t good incentive.” He pressed the cup between his hooves and drew it up to his snout, taking a sip, “And the incentive isn’t even good enough, so I have to go out of my way to find somepony that I think is just as lonely as I am. Fuck me.”

“You wish,” Moondancer said with a nervous chuckle. Anonymous reciprocated with his own, close to a chirp. Cute. Ignore that. Moondancer massaged a temple with his hoof, “Uh… but, being serious. You don’t… I mean, you’re like me?” Friendless.

“More than you’d think. I don’t shut ponies out like you. Not totally, at least. But every time I think I’m getting anywhere, I just keep acting like a jerk, and… well, you know how that goes.”

“Why?”

“Why do I act like a jerk? I… it made me friends, at first.”

Moondancer quirked an eyebrow, “... How?”

“I, uh… I wasn’t real good at making friends as a colt. It was scary, made me anxious, no matter how long I watched other ponies or read about making friends or—well, to make a long story short, I tried making jokes one day, and it worked. I made friends, and it was great, for a while. The problem is that most of my jokes made fun of other ponies. It wasn’t bad at first, but the further I pushed the bigger the laughs were, and… well, it became a—a, uh…”

“... A habit?”

Anonymous slumped in his chair, “Yeah. By the time I realized what happened, I was alone. Stupid, isn’t it?”

Moondancer magicked more tea into his cup to drink, “I think I get it.” It made him uncomfortable how much he got it, although he was on the other side of the coin. He always preferred books to ponies, but he still wanted to have some close friends to talk with. He had one, but—but that was the last one.

“We’re a couple of fuckin’ losers.”

“You’re the loser. I’m going to HAPL.”

Anonymous sniggered, making Moondancer smile. Anonymous flipped his mane, “If nerd shit like yours can make you not a loser, then I can’t be a loser, either.”

“You, a nerd? You can’t call yourself cool anymore.”

“Nah, dude, it’s like this; you know my full name, right?”

“Anonymous Source? It’s a strange one.”

“My whole family tree is like that.”

“Your… how does your family keep any of that straight? You’re telling me your father and mother are named Anonymous Source, too?”

“No, but we all have that same general theme, and it’s regional—I’m the only ‘Anonymous Source’ pony here in Canterlot. Every time you read something credited to ‘an anonymous source’? That was one of us acting as a mouthpiece for Very Important Ponies. We publish books and art under the family name, too. Best kept secret in the trade.”

“But—what? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would anypony trust you—”

“Celestia cut our clan a deal a long, long time ago, and we’ve had protections by tribal leaders going way back. Of course, we’ve made our own works of art, found our own information, just to keep our clients safe. Tackitus? Half of his sources were us. The Voynicker Manuscript? Us. The Watergait informant? Us. Sometimes it’s a shy pony—those ones might come forward after the fact. Other times, it really is just us. And sometimes?” Anonymous leaned in close, cupping his hooves to conceal a conspiratorial whisper, “Sometimes it’s something inconvenient, embarrassing, dangerous. Everypony comes to us. That’s why they trust us—we move more dirt than a graveyard, and we could fill one with careers if we were betrayed.”

“You—you’re pulling my leg, right? There’s no way something this stupid exists.”

“What do you think this cutie mark means, Moonie?”

“Don’t call me that.” Moondancer leaned around the table, looking at Anonymous’ cutie mark again. Still a red, feathered question mark, still ending in a quill's nib, “You know, if you’re meant to be anony—if your identity isn’t meant to be known, having it as your cutie mark is stupid.”

“That’s exactly what they want you to think.”

Moondancer’s face drained of all amusement. Anonymous found it hilarious, clutching his sides in a fit. Moondancer went back to his tea, waiting for Anonymous to settle down. When he did, Moondancer pressed him, “So what is your cutie mark about?”

“I ran a school paper with the gimmick that every contributor had to go unnamed. It got shut down pretty quick—you’d be amazed at what some ponies will say when it isn’t their flank in the line of fire—but I kept it going in my free time. Turns out, I really like the sort of shit you get to read when ponies are free to speak their mind. Can’t really make a career off of free, anonymous letters, though, so it’s a hobby. That’s why I’m here.”

“And how much of this is written by you?”

Anonymous smiled, silent. Moondancer shook his head, “Figures as much. Tackitus, seriously...” He wanted to say more, but bit his tongue.

“I know what you’re thinking right now. Cowardly, right?” Anonymous held up a hoof, quieting him, “Yeah, I guess. But it’s important, too. I was being serious about Watergait, you know—and I think ponies like me have to exist to keep things honest. Either way, I’m here, I’m proud, and I’m not gonna change.”

“You’re not going to change?” Moondancer quirked a brow.

Anonymous paused, biting his lip, “I—I can try to be nnn… less of a jerk.”

“Well… I don’t know if I’ll be able to, but I’ll try to be less... severe?“

Anonymous stifled a snort, “That’s one way of putting it. But, hey, if you’re willing, I am, too. Shake on it?”

Moondancer let himself smile, holding out a hoof, “I have no idea why I’m giving you another chance.”

“Third time’s the charm, right?” Anonymous shook Moondancer’s hoof with a wink, “And I know all about charm.”

Moondancer rolled his eyes, “I regret this already.”

“You love it.”

“You wish.”

“Moondancer? I think this is the start of a—”

“I’m going to chuck you outside if you say it.”

Anonymous stared at Moondancer. Moondancer stared back. He magicked the door open, the chimes ringing like a musical locket. A droplet of sweat beaded on Anonymous’ brow, before—

“—beautiful friendship.”

Anonymous laughed as he sailed through the open door, wings unfurling with a roll to dance in the night sky, “Catch you on the weekend, nerdball!”

Moondancer snorted in annoyance, but couldn’t help the smile on his face. He finished off the tea and walked up to the counter, “Dim Sun? Sorry for keeping you open so late. I appreciate your consideration.”

The stallion addressed finished wiping down the last dish, giving Moondancer the last smile of the night, “Anything for a regular! Now, go on and get outta here. Some of us want to sleep tonight!”

Moondancer nodded, dropping spare bits on the counter and cantering off before they could be refused. His hoofsteps were light as he trotted back to his dorm, a thought running through his head. He’d made a friend! His grade was saved! They had their differences, but Moondancer wouldn’t lie to himself that there were no common interests between them.

When he stopped focusing on the negatives of the night, the positives stood out. Getting to share a lecture, chatting over dinner, learning about each other—even if it wasn’t a light subject, Anonymous still found a way to lighten the mood. And getting close to another pony felt… good. It felt really good to get close to Anonymous.

In an emotional way.

Yes, emotional. He liked sharing things about himself, even if the pony he was sharing them to was being flippant; he still said it was guaranteed he’d make it in HAPL. Moondancer knew he would, but hearing somepony besides his professors saying they believed in him put him in high spirits.

The trip back flew past Moondancer, already finding himself unlocking the door, magicking off his sweater into the clothes hamper with the rest of its carbon copies, and snuggling himself deep beneath the covers, content. He’d made a friend!

His eyes shot open.

Oh no. He’d made a friend.

He had no idea how to be a friend.

Chapter 8

“Dude, we just hang out and shit. I’m sorry, but friendship ain’t rocket science.” Anonymous read on a low-hanging branch above Moondancer, the pair relaxing in the shade. Well, one was, at least. “It’s something you do, not study.”

“Excuse me for worrying, then, because it’s not something I’ve done in a long time.” Moondancer paced below the pegasus, his saddlebags full of studying materials that he hadn’t been able to touch the past two days. He’d spent it fretting over the specifics of friendship calculus.

“You’re doing it right now, though.”

“I don’t want to mess it up.”

“That’s all you need, Moonie. A willingness to learn. Right? We’re both losers, so as long as we admit we’re gonna fuck up from time to time, it should be alright.”

“I’m not a loser.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“How can you be so nonchalant about this? You’re in the same boat as I am, so why aren’t you freaking out?”

Anonymous set the book down on his stomach—more drivel from Posie Prose, Moondancer noted—and sighed, “Maybe I am? Not all of us wear our hearts on our sweater’s sleeves, Moonie. Don’t you get sweaty wearing those all the time?”

“No, it’s quite breathable. And how are you not cold? It’s chilly today,” Moondancer was punctuated by a breeze that swept a cold through the quad’s colorful trees, “and I find it hard to believe a pony that’s had a ‘successful social life’ like you is under any distress spending time with somepony like me.”

“Saying ‘successful social life’ like that was uncalled for, dude.”

“Sorry.”

“And I am ‘under distress,’ as you put it. The only ponies I’ve ever been this open with are… uh, none.”

Moondancer stopped his pacing, “Not even your parents?”

Anonymous bit his book off his stomach, swiveled on the branch and slid off, landing on his hooves, “Nah.” He set the book down spine-up on the late Autumn grass by the tree’s trunk.

“What do you mean, ‘nah’? Is that all I’m going to get? ‘Nah’? How are you being more open with me than your parents? Do you have family pro—”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just—uh,” Anonymous rubbed his mane, watching the college crowd lounge on the quad, “It’s hard to explain.”

Moondancer huffed, “We have all day. Time is not of the essence.”

“It’s not that.” Anonymous’ gaze traveled to Moondancer, then bounced off as if repelled, “Not that kind of hard, at least.”

“What other kind of hard is there?”

Anonymous snorted.

“Mature.”

“Sorry—well, back to the main thing. I’m always clowning around. So when I have to be serious, it’s… hard. I don’t like doing it.”

Moondancer chewed on the thought. Anonymous sat against the tree, crossing his hind legs. Moondancer noticed how his muscles moved under his coat, and looked away in a hint of shame, “I take things too seriously.”

Anonymous’ hoof paused as it picked up his book, “Wait, don’t tell me you were unironically defending toasted buns?”

“I wasn’t... entirely serious about the debate?”

“Sweet Solaris, you—” Anonymous paused. Moondancer could see the gears in his head turning, the tongue flicking in the hollow of his cheek. It had fascinating motions. “You could help me be… more serious? And I’ll help you learn how to clown around, since you really seem to have a hate boner for ‘pointless’ shit.”

Moondancer frowned, “Must you word it in such a crude manner?”

“Come on, that wasn’t even that bad. I could’ve said—”

“—that I have a penchant for not wasting my time on drivel?”

“If you wanna be a no-fun nerd about it, sure. I’m joking! See, you’re never gonna get yourself a marefriend if you’re so wound-up all the time.”

Moondancer rolled his eyes harder than he thought possible, “Why is it always sex with you?”

“To breed is to be, Moonie! Let me be your wings. We’ll get you hooked up before finals, guaranteed.” Anonymous slung a leg over Moondancer’s withers. He grumbled at the contact, but touchy-feely was a fact of life with Anonymous. The extra warmth on the cool day was nice, too, in its own way. As was the closeness...

“How am I supposed to go from friendless to marefriend in just three weeks? I’m behind on my studies enough as it is, I can’t commit to a relationship right now.”

“Two words, dude. One-night stand.”

“That’s three words.”

“Hyphens, dude. Hyphens.”

“I don’t care how many hyphens you use, I’m not going to have a one-night stand. Never.”

“Ever?”

“You couldn’t pay me.”

“I dunno, dude. I’ve got a lotta bits,” Anonymous nuzzles Moondancer’s cheek, “I bet I could find your price~”

Moondancer bolts out beneath Anonymous’ leg, flicking his blushing ears “I am not a prostitute.”

Anonymous laughs, “Bits in your purse, dinner and a movie, what’s the difference?”

“You know how warped that is, right?”

“I see things for how they are. But, fine, your world and bed will go unrocked tonight. What do you propose we do, instead?”

“I need to study. I’ve wasted too much time alrea—”

“Moonie,” Anonymous walked up beside Moondancer, “Do you have any homework left to do for the semester?”

“No, but—”

Anonymous’ neck craned toward Moondancer, “No essays, no papers? Only reviewing for finals?”

Moondancer leaned away, “Yes, but—”

“Are you in any danger of scoring less than perfect on a single one?”

“I—I still need to study for graduate sch—”

Anonymous throws a leg around Moondancer’s neck, pulling him in close, “Moooonie~. Live a little. Your career’s in no danger if you take a day off. Your future might be, though. All work and no play makes a dull pony.”

“I am not dull.”

“You want to study instead of party. You’re, like, a butterknife.”

Moondancer turned his head away from Anonymous. He was too close, his breath was on his cheek and it tingled in a way he didn’t like that he liked, “I have many interests.”

“Like what?”

“I enjoy studying history, economics, pottery—”

“Studying pottery.”

“Yes, extensively; for example, the material culture of ancient tribes of the Fertile Shoe is fascinating. There are distinct differences between pre-pottery and pottery life, foremost of which is the capacity for society to support potters after advances had been made in the understanding of earth pony agricultural magic, which lead to dramatic boosts in productivity, meaning fewer ponies were chosen by Harmony to be farmers; thus, pottery. Pottery, in turn, helped to further advance societies. It was actually responsible for the invention of the wheel, you know; our earliest examples—al-Aheimare in origin, naturally—were simpler, hoof-shaped pieces that lacked—why are you giggling?”

“Oh, nothing,” Anonymous patted Moondancer’s withers with his leg before taking it off, “I’m just enjoying you.”

Moondancer kept his head turned away, speaking to the dead grass, “I don’t understand what you mean by that.”

He felt a velvet snout run up his neck, making him shiver and flinch, “And that’s why you’re so enjoyable. Hey, I’ve got a bright idea! Let’s do pottery together.”

Moondancer stepped away, a cautious hoof hanging in the air, “You…” the hoof swings to point at Anonymous, “want to study pottery with me?”

Anonymous blows hair out from his eyes, “No, I want to do pottery. I know the pottery professor and he keeps the studio open twenty-four-seven. We can make bowls or whatever. It’ll be fun!”

“Hmm,” Moondancer hoofed his chin, relaxing with the distraction, “Perhaps. It can’t be that hard to make a bowl, can it?”

“If you’ve read as much as it sounds like you have, you’ll pick it up quick. Alright, let’s go. We only have a few weeks left, and good pottery takes a while.”

“Lead the way.”

Moondancer found himself watching Anonymous as he led the way to a campus facility Moondancer had never visited, the Prancis Haycon Center for the Arts. The unfamiliar paths had unique sights and sounds vying for his attention, but it was affixed firmly on the figure diagonally in front of him. Anonymous was handsome. That wasn't a new thought; it had been one Moondancer had when he first saw the pegasus. What was new was his appreciation of how good he looked.

The shine on Anonymous' hooves; how his legs carried him, fluid and confident; a sprinter's extensors apparent to anypony rippling beneath his coat, the subtle bulge of biceps at the base of flank. And what a flank it was. Moondancer wanted to touch it, feel it move, tense and relax underhoof, and he recoiled at the thought. He hung his head in shame, staring at the patterned brick path leading them to their destination.

He shouldn't be thinking about a friend like this. Because that's what Anonymous was; a friend. And that's all that he was. A friend Moondancer needed for his grade, a friend that was trying to help him, because Anonymous liked him. Did Anonymous like Moondancer like that? Romantically? Anonymous had no concept of personal space, but did that imply attraction? Had Moondancer ever seen Anonymous hanging out with another pony? No, he had not. He had no frame of reference for any of this and it was giving him anxiety and squeezing his heart and—

Dammit, Moondancer thought, why do I have to feel this? Be like this? Why do I have to go and ruin a good thing? … A good thing? Moondancer drew deeper within. Was it a good thing? Yes, he thought, my friendship with Anon is a good thing. I've had fun, despite the troubles, and I want more. I want more...

Moondancer shook his head, I can't have more. It's too dangerous. He doesn't like me like that. He's not into me. He wants to help me get a marefriend! That's not something a pony that... wants me would say. And every time he's been sincere, when he isn't teasing me, he said he wants to be my friend. Not a coltfriend, not a special somepony, but a friend. He has to be touchy-feely with everypony else; even Anon couldn't be that brazen.

He sighed, looking back up at Anon. Specifically, at his wings; they were folded. Moondancer saw little difference in the structure compared to passing pegasi, but he knew what they felt like, and they felt incredible. Like a hug, even when only spread over his back. Warm. Something he wanted, needed—no, wanted, it must stay a want—to be wrapped in. Wrapped in them someplace dim and intimate, on something soft, someplace quiet where he could close his eyes and listen to Anon's breathi—

A smooth, black hoof booped him, "Caught ya 'mirin."

Anon stood facing him with a smirk that made Moondancer feel ashamed. Red from ear to tip, he blustered forward, "I was not. I was thinking. Let's just go. This is it?"

"Yeah, this is the place." Anon trotted forward into a building Moondancer could only cringe at. He pitied the poor engineers that have to work with these 'artistic liberties,' and the crew that had to hold all of those heavy river stones in place while flying...

The pottery room was a disasterpiece. Tri-tone walls striped with orange, cream, and pale green were dusty and stained by dried clay and glaze. Clay splotches caked the ground, stools and wheels strewn about according to draconic formulae of friendships rather than anything rational, loose tarp hanging over drying shelves where a horn could easily catch and tear—or even topple. Moondancer marveled at the mess while Anon unhooked smocks from the wall, “How can anypony work like this?”

“Cracked Crock is all about self-expression, dude. This chaos is, like, the will of the creative unconscious manifest.”

“It’s an accident waiting to happen. How many students have lost their work over the course of this semester alone? Five? Fifteen?”

Anon slid the smock over his neck, careful to tie it beneath his wings and not over, “Only three. And one of ‘em could only blame himself ‘cuz he set his vase on top of a tarp somepony else was using.”

Moondancer rolled his eyes, “Oh, only three students have lost their hard work this semester due to completely preventable causes. That’s good.”

“Yeah, Crock usually says it’s way worse at the start, but our wavelengths really harmonized. Here, throw this on.”

Moondancer caught the tossed smock in his magic and slid it over his neck, making sure it covered his sweater. He rolled up his sleeves, “Wedging is first. Where is the clay kept?”

“Look at you,” Anon smiled at Moondancer as he sauntered over to a long work table with cabinets beneath, “acting like a pro.” He opened one and bit down on a half-filled bag of gray clay, dropping it onto the plaster surface with a thud. Moondancer watched him cut two chunks off the block with a wire, “So, given any thought to what you want to make?”

Moondancer walked up beside Anon, a hoof grabbing his slab of clay and stood it upright, considering it, “I was considering stoneware in the vein of Dingyao—ceramics made under Northern Song’s dynasty—but this is earthenware clay. Do we have access to lead glazes? A decorative green-glazed dish for my dorm keys and meal card would be nice...”

“And here I thought you’d blank when creativity was required!”

Moondancer frowned at his stupid grin, “Do you ever tire of being wrong?”

“When it comes to you, Moonie, I delight in it.” Anon got to work wedging his clay.

Moondancer turned back to his slab of clay and shook his head, “You delight in the strangest things.” He set his hooves upon the clay, mushing it together. It was thick, dense, and required effort to make malleable. He grabbed the sides of the top and pushed down and in, down and in, down and in, working up a sweat. The muscles in his forelegs stung, a burn setting in. His clay wasn't close to being wedged. A wandering eye saw that Anon's clay had been wedged into a textbook ram's head, complete with a frown and angry eyes. Moondancer growled, wrapped the clay in his magic, and kneaded it. The relief in his legs was welcomed. Anon resting on a hoof and staring was not.

“Stop watching me.”

"You want me to wedge it for you?"

"I can wedge it in my magic."

Anon taps his forehead, "You can't keep using magic, Moonie. I don't have a horn. How am I supposed to help you out later?"

"I don't need help."

"Not for wedging, maybe, but what about centering? Opening? Pulling? Your first throw is gonna be shit if you don't have anypony to help out. And if you're using magic, I can't help."

"I don't need help."

Anon shrugged, "Suit yourself." He scooped his clay up and walked away from the table. Moondancer levitated his clay and followed.

Anon weaved through the chaos. Moondancer lacked his deftness, bumping into stools and stubbing a hoof with a hiss against the pedals on a wheel. Credit where it's due, Anon didn't laugh at him. "You alright there, big guy?"

"Fffine." Moondancer walked on three legs, following Anon to the head of an oval of wheels and stools, seating eight ponies in total, covered with tools. He shifted equipment around so that his wheel and a spare were next to each other. Moondancer sat with a frown, sucking on his stubbed forehoof, "You seem popular for someone friendless."

"Jealous, Moonie? Hold on, almost forgot the water." Anon slapped his clay down in the center of his wheel and headed for the sinks, filling up a pair of buckets.

"I'm not—" Moondancer paused, tongue tying on his throat-lodged heart. He dropped his clay on the wheel and thought. There was nothing wrong with Anon having other friends; he was the type that needed to be around a lot of ponies, anyway. He was jealous, and that was irrational. So he needed to figure out why he was jealous, so he could stop being jealous, so he wouldn't ruin the friendship that Anon wanted to have with him. Jealousy is... his jealousy is rooted in—

Two buckets hit the floor with a slosh, knocking Moondancer out of his rumination, "Relax, dude. I doubt they'll last. I'm not gonna stop being your friend even if I make a few more, anyways."

Friend. The word hurt, his stupid obsession with Anon hurt, everything just hurt. Why couldn't he be normal, have friends, not get hung up on the first pony that was nice to him? There wasn't anything there. It was all teasing. Teasing. Friends teased each other. "I'm not jealous."

"The colt doth protest too much, methinks. That's not centered." Anon took his clay off the wheel. He plucked the sponge from his bucket and wrung it out, spinning the wheel slow to wipe it down and get a good work surface going. Finished, he wrapped wet hooves around the base of his clay, centering it.

Moondancer levitated his clay, mimicking Anon's process of wiping the wheel down, "I know." He concentrated on the clay, a wrung-out sponge wetting the top as his magic wrapped the base, bringing it in. He tried to focus on centering, but practice was different from theory, and the emotions buzzing in his head didn't help matters.

The clay wouldn't land in the center after several throws. When he managed that, he couldn't control his magic to make anything proper out of his clay. It fanned out when his magic went too high, or the top leaned away from the center, or he squeezed too hard and it forced through his magic, slinging flecks around. He huffed, looking to his left to see Anon's progress. He had already finished pulling and was ready to take the bowl off the wheel. It was wide, smooth, with walls that angled upward in increments instead of a continuous curve. It was good.

All Moondancer had was a sloppy pile spinning circles in front of him. He wilted.

“It’s okay to ask for help, Moonie. We’re supposed to be having fun, yeah?”

Moondaner wiped his sweating brow in disgust. It felt shameful to have this much trouble with a task so simple. He’d studied the techniques before, read countless books. So why was it hard? He needed help. “I tried.”

“Yeah, dude, you did. Let’s get your hooves dirty. I’ll be right back” Anon leaned over to an adjacent wheel and took a wire left over from a previous class, separating his bowl and picking it up with care. Moondancer watched his tail bob as he walked away.

Moondancer turned back to his clay. Coming here was a mistake. Being alone in private with Anon made him want to try stupid things, things he tried his best not to consciously think about, but did anyway. What would Anon say if Moondancer said he liked him? As more than a friend? No, he couldn’t do that. That was too risky, too bold, too prone to disaster. He needed something safe, something harmless. Something friendly.

What if Moondancer asked for a hug before leaving?

Are hugs something you ask for? Or is it something you just do? Anonymous hugged him a few times before, so it would be okay if Moondancer initiated a hug, right? Friends hugged each other, so that was okay to do. He wouldn’t be overstepping any boundaries, and he’d get a hug. How long could a hug go? He tried to think about how long their previous hugs had been, but time stood still in those memories. They made him short of breath and constricted his chest. Hugs had so many components he had never considered before. Of course there was the physical contact, the warmth, but did ponies normally think about how soft a coat was, or the lingering kiwi-scented shampoo, or the breath that swept across the back of one’s neck—

Anon draped across Moondancer’s back, pushing him forward. He started with a yelp, kicking the wheel off-balance. Anon saved it with a wing, snorting in surprise, “Fuck, Moonie! Calm down. I told you, you’re too far from the wheel. You gotta be right on it. Spread your legs.”

“Wh-wuh-what?” Moondancer’s legs fused together.

Anon pushed forward again. Moondancer could feel Anon’s lungs press into and pull away from his back with every breath, heat radiating through his sweater, the light aroma of shampoo making his head swim.

“You need to be right up on the wheel so you can brace your elbows for stability. Open ‘em before I open ‘em for you, and I know you don’t want that.”

You don’t know anything. Moondancer pried his legs apart and let Anon press him up against the wheel. He struggled to control his breathing. Count in your head, Moondancer. In, two, three, four… he thought, sucking air through his nose and regretting the fresh deluge of Anon invading his senses, five, six, seven, eight. Out, two, three, four. In, two, three four…

Anon moved a stool in front of Moondancer’s wheel, sitting down, knees knocking knees, “Alright. Your clay’s already wet, so we don’t have to worry about that. Let’s center it together. I’ll pedal.”

“Mhm.” Moondancer focused on the clay, watching as Anon picked it up and dropped square in the center, his legs snaking between Moondancer’s to work the wheel. Moondancer wanted to close his legs to feel Anon’s, but resisted.

He stayed focused on the clay, instead, as Anon’s hooves held his, pressing them into the base of the clay. “You’re too straight, bend over. You gotta use all your weight to make throwing easy as possible.”

“Mhm!” Moondancer felt his pupils shrink, gaze boring into the clay.

Anon shifted his grip, maneuvering Moondancer’s hooves to stand up against the clay, the toe of each pressing down and in on the top. “... There we go, now it’s centered. Next is opening the bowl up. Use your toe… yeah, like that.”

Moondancer dipped his toe into the top, slow and gentle, making a wide opening in the top. A laugh escaped him; he was actually throwing a bowl. All of that pain he went through to do it with magic was pointless. Anon would sit here and literally hold his hoof through the process. He didn’t even have to ask Anon to touch him. He just did it on his own. Of course he did it on his own, you moron, Moondancer thought. That’s the kind of pony he is. An inconsiderate invader of personal space and I don’t mind that at all. Moondancer shook his head. He almost messed up his bowl due to the intrusive thoughts. Stay focused, don’t think about that. About how Anon was taking this seriously, how he was eager to help Moondancer out, how he could be a good pony if he was around a friend he trusted.

“Alright, now to make the hoof and walls thinner… ...there. We’re ready to pull. It’s more like squeezing, but whatever.” Anon stood up from his stool, breaking Moondancer’s concentration on the rapidly progressing bowl before him.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m not gonna be able to help you pull this bowl out on the other side. Backwards, just won’t work.” Anon walked around and draped himself across Moondancer’s back again, his forelegs braced along Moondancer’s. His head was to the side, close enough that Moondancer could feel the warmth radiating off his neck, the air swishing as he spoke, “This is the make-or-break stage, but lucky for you, I’m gonna guarantee you make it.”

Words failed Moondancer, and he didn’t trust any noise he’d make in their place, so he nodded.

“The hardest part is pressure, but if you hang your legs for me—like, relax…” Moondancer let his legs go limp, allowing Anon to move them as he wished. He tilted the hooves, testing his range of motion, and gave a satisfied grunt that made Moondancer’s ear flick, brushing against Anon’s neck, “There—I can control your toe pressure for you. You’ll get a feel for how it should go and, by the end of it, have a bowl that doesn’t look like shit. Easy. Now, let’s start.”

Time seemed to slow down for Moondancer as his hindlegs worked the pedals, bringing the wheel up to speed. His vision stuttered looking at Anon’s clay-covered hooves and caked fetlocks hold his, tilting one so the toe pointed down inside of the to-be bowl, the other skimming the wheel to close in on the to-be bowl’s base, “The key is to pull from the bottom, where all the clay is. We’re gonna get about three pulls max before more pulling just kills it, so it’s important to use everything we have.”

He became aware of how the sweater’s fabric shifted as Anon rubbed across him, the specifics of his weight as it moved from side to side to control Moondancer’s hooves, and, he found, if he didn’t concentrate on Anon’s soothing voice, he could feel Anon’s heartbeat massage his back.

He lost himself in this private world, swimming in guilty pleasure as Anon wrapped him. He became aware of blood redirecting itself and thanked every star by name that his smock covered him so he could resist without being found out. Resisting desire proved difficult, and he was losing ground inch by hardening inch. There was too much Anon to ignore, too much intimacy. He needed a distraction. Math, he needed math. The HMS Mareope is preparing to launch from an unknown exoplanet whose radius is 7.21×10⁶ m and mass is 6.86×10²⁵ kg, he thought, which means the escape velocity would be...

“You are in the zone, dude.”

“Nuh?” Before him, Anon had pulled a beautiful, wide dish perfect for catching daily necessities discarded by a tired unicorn passing through the entrance to his dorm. Using his hooves. He was vaguely aware that Anon had been talking the whole time, but he had been lost in the calculations. Shaken from them, and encouraged by the energy in Anon’s voice and how the stallion hanged onto him a little closer, his erection mounted another attack against their friendship.

He had to get out of here, now. Before something bad happened. How?

“I’ve never seen anypony this focused on pottery, not even Dr. Crock.” Anon was still on him, resting on his back. “So, fun, right? Yeah?” Did he sound worried?

“Mhm.” Moondancer gave a curt nod and kept his head tilted down. It was difficult to make out through the folds in the smock, and it was tied low enough to hide if he was at an angle, but all bets were off when it came off. The pink length running along his stomach would be noticed with a moment’s glance. So what options did he have?

“Told ya it’d be fun!” Now Anon sounded relieved. What was he worried for? He wasn’t the one who agreed to traipse off into seclusion with an irrational crush and he wasn’t the one squirming in his seat, trying to think of a way to hide a serious, sensitive thing from plain sight. A thing that throbbed every time he stole a sideways glance at Anon, which told him no amount of waiting was going to help. That meant using magic to hide it.

Illusion magic was not Moondancer’s forte, nor was this a simple spell by any measure, but he should be able to get of—cast the spell without issue. It could render invisible specific parts of things, and required minimal concentration to maintain. Great for entertainers, and also helpful when inscribing the little details of magical circles and runes without the quill getting in the way. All he needed was for Anon to look away so he wouldn’t see the magic outlining Moondancer beneath his smock.

“Now, all we gotta do is take it off the wheel and check back on it in a few days. When it’s in the bark stage, we can trim, put a nice hoof on it, and all that good shit. It’ll be ready before finals, so you won’t have to worry about it cutting into your precious study time.” Anon let off Moondancer with a giggling chirp, then leaned over him before he could even sigh, a wire in his hooves to free the bowl.

The bowl. That’s how he was going to get Anon to look away.

Anon hummed with satisfaction as the wire bit into the bottom of the clay and pulled clean through. Moondancer focused on it, following it up as Anon lifted it over his head. He needed to behave normally. “W-Was it necessary to be on t—to lean over me like that?”

“I didn’t hear you complaining before~” Okay, Anon’s hoofsteps were leading away. Moondancer held open the top of his smock, greeted by his glistening flare. He concentrated on the spell, how the magic flowed through his horn, which curves to make it take and points to focus it into. When he opened his eyes again, he sighed. It was gone.

“Y-You needed to be to help me make the bowl. And I was ‘in the zone,’ as you said; I didn’t even notice you.” Moondancer looked down at himself again. There was a bulge where the smock was tied around his stomach, but even Anon wouldn’t notice that. It’s not as if he watched Moondancer all the time. Although, Moondancer wouldn’t mi—focus, focus…

When Moondancer dismounted his stool, his hindlegs about buckled; something had gone wrong with the spell because he should not be this sensitive. Oh no, what if he made a damp spot on the smock? Was clay covering it? He swiped his hoof on the wheel and smeared it over the smock covering his flare; a mistake. He landed on his flanks from the pleasure that tipped into pain. He felt himself dripping like an old faucet. He had to part ways before something really bad happened.

“You alright, dude? Trip on something?” Moondancer heard tarp being unfolded and refolded, his bowl, no doubt. He started for the exit.

“Y-Yeah! This room’s a m-mu-mess, hahahaaa.” Every movement tortured him. How the smock shifted as he walked, slowly, towards the exit; his inner thighs rubbing sensitive parts, forcing him to go bow-legged; even Anon’s voice made him twitch, as if Anon was whispering into his ear even though he stood clear across the room.

“Yeah, sorry. Like I said, we’d clean up, but… well, whatever.” The snap of wings, the flutter of feathers, and then Anon was by his side. His wings brushed Moondancer’s back as they closed. Moondancer froze in place, the drip turning into a leak. It got harder—the spell, the spell became harder to maintain, but at this rate, the dampness and smell would—

The smell. It was going to be noticeable as soon as the smock was taken off. He couldn’t do anything about that; he’d just have to book it as soon as it came off. “I r-really need to go st-study now, Anon. I’m w-worried about finals and—”

“‘Anon’?” Anon—Anonymous spun around, glowing, “Did you just give me a nickname?!” He pranced closer to Moondancer.

Moondancer backed off, wincing, “Y-Yes? What of it?”

“I was wondering how long it was gonna take you to drop that formality. ‘Anonymous’ is such a mouthful. I’m surprised it took you until now to get tired of gagging on it.” Why did he have to talk like that? Word things in that specific way? Why?

He continued to approach. If Anon touched him, he would explode. Moondancer held up a hoof, “We’re friends now, so I… thought it would be appropriate. There’s no need to hug me. Please.”

Anon stopped and rubbed the back of his neck, “Oh, heh… r-right. I guess you got tired of… earlier. Well, whatever. It means a lot to me, Moonie. Feels like we’re actually...” Anon trails off, looking at the ceiling. Look at that tuft. Look at it. Thick and poofy enough to cast a shadow, no doubt soft and hot enough to stave off even the most bitter of winter nights. Moondancer wanted to shove his face in it and smell.

He didn’t. He restrained himself. He didn’t restrain himself from staring, but from touching. “... Friends?”

“Uh, yeah. Friends. Like we’re actually friends now, heh.” Anon turned back to walk to the exit. Moondancer followed him, watching him untie the smock and bite the neck, standing up to hang it over a hook on the wall, “Hey, I’m gonna grab something to eat from the chow hall. You wanna come with? You can get a to-go order if you—”

“I really need to study, sorry.”

“... Right. Yeah, that’s okay. We’ve already wasted enough time here.”

Moondancer reached the smock wall. “I-It wasn’t a waste of time. I’m thankful for the newfound appreciation of the art of pottery you gave me. And, uhm, for… you going out of your way for me.” He started undoing his smock with his magic. Anon leaned against the doorframe, blocking Moondancer from a swift retreat. Well, he’d just have to hope he’d be able to brush past Anon without making a mess. He took a deep breath. It was time. He slid the smock off of, bit it, hung it on a hook, and was immediately hugged from behind by Anon.

“And thank you for giving me so many—”

Anon’s hooves met right on Moondancer’s tip, pressing in from both sides. Moondancer came with a shriek, a prodigious load shooting out and covering the smocks. He fell against the wall, Anon bumping against his back and flanks as he stopped. The collision urged another rope to splash beneath the smocks, staining the lower, orange stripe white. Anon’s hooves were still on him, squeezing him once in shock. The third load fell short, draping across the floor as it hit the trimming. A few final spurts left a puddle at Moondancer’s hooves. He shuddered, horn caught in cloth, breathing ragged against the wall.

“Chan… ces?”

The spell might have broken. Anonymous might have seen. The thump from Moondancer rearing back, scattering smocks, may have been Anonymous falling against something. Moondancer did not stay to see or look behind himself as he tore off. He galloped through and out the building, across the quad to his dorm, up the stairs, and slammed the door to his room shut, locking it. He sank against it and wailed.

Chapter 9

Moondancer drew the quilt tight around himself. Before him, a binder angled with the bed to make a flat surface that accommodated comforts he very much needed. Pancakes slathered with blackberry jam and topped with dollops of cream, and a tall, iced glass of milk. Simple, sinful, and somehow burned because he couldn’t afford his cooking attention while stomping and squalling. He ate between hiccups.

Why did that have to happen? That was the question ringing in his mind for hours. He had almost managed to escape, almost managed to keep his friendship, almost managed to save his grad—It’s not about the grade anymore!, he thought. It’s about Anon. It’s been about him for longer than I want to admit. How am I supposed to face him now?

He floundered through his thoughts, trying to find a single way to salvage what he could from the wreckage. He was too ashamed to be around Anon anymore, much less talk to him. He didn’t know what he could write in a letter—didn’t even know where Anon stayed, or whether his roommates respected privacy to not root through his post or read over his shoulders. How could they stay friends after this? It wasn’t as if Anon had walked into him while he was showering or something. Moondancer… ejaculated after Anon hugged him. Anon touched him. Those soft soles squeezed him and—

Moondancer shook his head to steer the thoughts away from treating Anon like that, but it was too late. He grew, stiffening from the memory. Imagine what it would feel like if it was on purpose! No, don’t. Holding Moondancer from behind, forelegs dipping low, squeezing together over his erection and sliding up. Stop. Sliding down with a whisper, “I wasn’t teasing, Moondancer. It was all sincere.” Ugh!

Moondancer kicked the licked-clean plate and drained glass off his bed, resolving to clean his mess up later. He threw himself down, back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was caught in a mental prison. It was time to plan an escape.

Moondancer wasn’t going to be able to approach Anon. He just wasn’t capable of that. So it was up to Anon to take the lead in this situation. He’d always taken the lead before, so it’s not as if he wasn’t used to it. Right? That seemed logical. So, how would Anon take the lead?

Leaving it up to Anon left two possibilities. Either Anon got in contact with Moondancer, or he didn’t. If Anon didn’t… then that was it. Over. The bitter voice in his mind told him that’s how it would turn out. Anything social never worked out for Moondancer, so there’s no reason to expect anything different now, especially after that screw-up.

But what if Anon did reach out? Would Moondancer be able to face him? That depends on what Anon came to say. What would he try to say? Three possibilities arose; to finalize the end of their friendship, to pretend it never happened, or…

He throbbed at the final thought, a hoof sliding down his stomach to grasp his cock, but he stopped himself. He had to finish thinking first.

If Anon ended their friendship, it would be through a letter. There was no reason to meet face-to-face with somepony that tried to hide their erection from you and orgasmed after you hugged them, unless it was to make fun of Moondancer. He didn’t think he could survive that.

If Anon wanted to pretend it never happened, Moondancer… could accept that. Maybe, with time, they could forget about it while hanging out together. It would give Moondancer time to come to terms with his feelings and, hopefully, discard them. Anon would avoid bringing up the topic altogether if he wanted to forget it. That’s what he would do.

If Anon wanted to… he would be clear. There was no reason for him to hide away from Moondancer if that was the case. IF he did, he would eat up what he had done to Moondancer. Anon was anything but shy about sex. Maybe he would knock on Moondancer’s door tonight…

Moondancer pulled the quilt aside and took off his sweater. He stood tall and waved in the cool air, an embarrassingly wide flare, the pink shaft right below it pinched sharp and expanding back out to average girth before the ring, widening to a thick base emerging from his light olive sheath, hidden by a stomach that enjoyed more pancakes than it should. He was self-conscious about it, but that didn’t matter right now. He breathed deep and grasped the base. Nothing did, not tonight. He had squared it away. All he could do was wait and see what happened next.

Or imagine what happened next. Anon would knock on the door, and ask to come in. Somehow, he would convince Moondancer to let him in, and he would kiss Moondancer before anything could be said. Moondancer’s hooves grasped his base. He whined; while not a stranger to self-pleasure, it was rare for him to indulge, and his fantasy tonight was powerful.

He rubbed himself, hooves circling as they traveled north. Anon’s lips were probably soft, and hot, and their noses would push together and breathing would be difficult and unnecessary. After the kiss was broken, he would show Anon the bedroom. What did Anon look like down there? Moondancer imagined Anon hitching his tail. A black sack, the same color as his hooves, would swing and mesmerize him. Anon would notice and put a sway to his step, smiling back at Moondancer at the effect he had on him.

They would lie down together, kissing again as they both became erect. Words would fail them, so they would touch one another, much as Moondancer did now. Anon’s hindlegs would graze his thighs like so many times before, making him shiver. Maybe Anon would go a little further, and rub his scrotum with those fluffy fetlocks—

He gasped as he reached the tip, imagining Anon playing with it. He could feel Anon’s hooves squeezing on his tip like they did hours ago, but with purpose. Teasing, twirling, poking and prodding, the sole of a hoof pressing down on his flare and rolling around, driving him insane. Moondancer ringed his flare, panting. He was already close.

Anon would want it to last longer, so he would stop his assault, pulling his hooves free. Anon would lie on his back, pulling himself away from Moondancer’s strokes. His would be… black, and look normal. It would be a good size, too. He’d ask Moondancer to s-suck him off. Moondancer took a hoof away from pumping and put it against his mouth. He’d sit up, between Anon’s legs, his penis pressing against Anon’s. He’d rock his hips, humping hot flesh, his hooves jerking off Anon as he kissed the tip and tasted with little licks what Anon had to offer. Moondancer imagined it would be…

He licked pre off his hoof. Salty? And a little sweet. Anon would taste salty and a little sweet. It would burn his tongue. He dug his hoof into his mouth. Anon would be antsy from the teasing, but Moondancer wouldn’t give in that easily. Anon had teased him for weeks; it was about time he had his revenge. He’d be confident, pulling away and letting Anon thrust into air against Moondancer’s cock. Anon would look so cute like that. So Moondancer would climb over Anon and turn around, offering himself to Anon’s mouth as he finally took Anon into his own. But Anon wouldn’t settle for that. He’d push Moondancer over, climbing on top and pressing down against Moondancer’s closed lips. He’d lick the ridge of Moondancer’s flare. Moondancer would gasp and Anon would enter.

Moondancer’s hoof was inside his mouth now and his one-hoofed pumping became jerking, sliding freely with the stream of pre flowing from the tip. He would suck, and Anon would thrust in and out. He would bob in synch with Anon and buck his own hips at the same time against Anon’s tongue and Anon would somehow manage to take him inside and suck him hard and maybe even swallow and they both came at the same time, Moondancer’s mouth inundated with Anon’s salty and a little sweet semen.

The earlier relief only intensified this orgasm as jets erupted into the air, drizzling up Moondancer’s stomach and chest, glazing his glasses and falling into his gasping mouth. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes with just how hard it was hitting him. His legs shook and hooves dug into the blankets, the jets becoming shots becoming spurts. Moondancer made a mess of himself and his sheets. He licked his lips and tasted only shame.

He pulled his glasses off and covered his eyes, the tears coming freely now. The fantasy disappeared in a plume of mental smoke. There was no turning back down. Anon was nothing more than a sexual fantasy for him. He couldn’t even be friends now; that felt way too good. It would be all he could think about around Anon anymore. And every time he tried to pretend he was just a friend, his heart would break in two like it was doing now.

Moondancer turned on the bed, dragging the sheets off with him. He stepped on the discarded plate and shook his hoof, the clean surface somehow still sticky after being thoroughly licked. He needed to do laundry now, and to take a shower. And, he noted as he walked to the bathroom, spot-clean the trail that dripped from his coat.

The sheets went in the hamper. Moondancer turned on the water, stepping into the hot shower after a minute. He lathered himself with a levitated bar of soap, letting the shower hide his tears. He never should have given Anon his ticket back. Moondancer wasn’t meant to have friends. Not Anon, not Dusk Shine… nopony. It always ended in tears.

Serves him right for thinking this could turn out differently.

Moondancer didn’t see Anon over the next two weeks. He never showed up that night, or the day after, to Moondancer’s guilty disappointment. Moondancer’s nerves stayed frayed, always hopeful and scared that Anon would leave him a letter, or appear before him one morning, or wait for him outside of the library, or, hay, even showed up at Dim Sun’s the night he went to buy take-out. His hope faded fast. With finals looming, he focused on his studies. Had to. Tried to, anyways. It was difficult.

Like right now. Moondancer massaged his temples, buried behind books piled high at his table on the top floor of the library, a fortress of knowledge shielding him from the world. He could not focus on anything but the desire for Anon to betray all expectations and show up, the desperation he had for closure. Real closure. Even if it ended, anything was better than this. This… hope that Anon would show up, or write, or anything. He needed Anon to allow him to move on. He needed a goodbye.

He hated this. He hated how he thought he had finally given up hope, only for it to rekindle and burn brighter than ever before, so close to finals. His first exam would be the day after tomorrow. There wasn’t any time left to be hung up on Anon.

He couldn’t focus on the text before him, so he marked his place with a torn scrap of paper and pushed it aside. He moved the stacks of books around, no topic strong enough to pull him into a pursuit he could lose sight of Anon in. He groaned, shoving the last stack aside. Anon sat behind it, in front of Moondancer, as he always did.

Moondancer blinked.

“Man, you really tune everything out when you’re in the zone, huh?” Anon stayed soft and quiet. The stallion was unusually groomed. His coat shiny and fluffed, mane brushed and styled and full of body. There was a sheen to his lips.

Moondancer blinked again.

Anon waved an outstretched hoof in front of Moondancer’s face, “Yooo. Cutie, you there? Still in the zone?” He grinned, “Or have I enchanted you?”

“What are you doing here?” Moondancer, hissing low and harsh, leaned down and under Anon’s hoof to make sure he was heard.

Anon pulled his hoof back and set it on the table by the elbow, resting his head on it as he flashed a slip of paper, “Dr. Nebulebray gave me a permission slip to use the library for study during finals week.”

“No, why are you here now!? Why did you just show up? I thought you—” Moondancer choked on the last word. He leaned back.

“Relax, dude. Damn. I figured you’d want some alone time. Needed it after that, if your load was anything to go by.”

Moondancer turned red, and not entirely out of embarrassment, “You didn’t even write!”

“Fuck was I gonna say, Moonie? ‘Nice cock, 8/10’? ‘Wish that wall was me’? Oh, or maybe ‘If pottery got you that excited, wait ‘til tonight’?”

The red was fifty-fifty between angry blush and flustered blush. Moondancer struggled to control his volume, “Yes—Anything! Something to let me know if we were still friends or not! And only now do you decide to show up, while I’m studying, and—and it’s to tease me. You only showed up to bully me. Wanted to get one last laugh at me before finals, huh?” He didn’t believe what he was saying, but—

“Stop being such a virgin about it, Moonie. Clinginess doesn’t suit a cute stallion you.”

“I’m talking about basic decency, Anonymous! I’m not being clingy! And—And I don’t think I’m a virgin anymore...”

Anonymous hid his smirk with a freshly manicured hoof, “You reek of virgin, dude. You think getting hugged counts as sex? Are you for real?”

“Y-You… touched me.”

“Did I fuck you?”

Moondancer shuffled back into his chair, feeling like Equestria’s biggest joke, “No…”

“Did you fuck me?”

Moondancer shook his head, staring at the desk.

“Then, d-do you—do you w-w… yo-you’re a virgin, Moondancer. A kissless virgin.”

Moondancer wasn’t stupid. He understood what was going on, and it pissed him off. Anonymous had gone out of his way to look as good as he possibly could, and it was for Moondancer. Moondancer’s heart did backflips in his chest. Anon liked him. It was the simplest thought Moondancer ever had, but it put him in a state of elation. An elation that was being ruined by Anon’s dishonesty.

Moondancer had had enough.

He shot across the table and kissed Anon full on the lips, recoiling in the same second in horror, anxiety, anger, and shame. The brief contact left a deep impression of having brushed his snout against sun-baked clouds. His tongue darted out to taste his lips. Citrusy. “N-N-N-Now I’m n-not kissless anymore. J-jerk.”

Anonymous licked his own lips, “I can help with the v-virgin part, too.”

A thump came from the underside of the table. Moondancer felt light-headed and brought his hindlegs together, leaning back to look around the library. Everypony else was studying, so they wouldn’t notice if—he gasped as a toe brushed against his sack, teasing his cock further from the sheath. He glared at Anon, who smirked back.

Moondancer scooted forward until his stomach pressed into the table, whispering, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Anon leaned forward and whispered back, his hoof running up the underside of Moondancer’s dick, “I didn’t get a good feel last time. Are you complaining?”

“We can’t do it here! Not in public. I-If we’re going to do this, we need to be somewhere private.”

“Your place, then.” Anon withdrew his hoof.

Moondancer frowned, the relief only half-welcomed. He looked down at himself and his horn lit up, recasting the spell he had used back in the pottery room. A surreptitious hoof confirmed that he had miscast the spell again, but that wouldn’t be a problem as long as Anon didn’t make it one. He grimaced; Anon would definitely make it one.

“I hid myself. You need it?”

Anon shook his head, “Some of us can keep it in our sheathes.”

“Whatever. You go in front of me. I’m not going to let you make me… y-you know, so don’t even think about it!”

“Hair trigger, huh?”

“It’s the spell!”

“Sure it is. Alright, big guy. I’ll lead you to—”

“Just go.”

“Somepony’s excited.” Anon slid off his chair. He looked over his shoulder at Moondancer, shook his rump, and took a leisurely stroll towards the stairs. There were few times in Moondancer’s life where his sweater was uncomfortably hot. This was one of them.

He swept his notes, textbooks, and other studying materials up in his magic, stuffed his saddlebags full, and caught up as Anon walked down the stairs. This was happening. It was really happening. Being exposed to the air and feeling himself thump against his sweater with every step, having to match Anon’s excruciating pace and watch his hindquarters bob and weave and flex, yearning for a glimpse at what hid behind his tail.

He got one. On the final flight to the ground floor, Anon flicked his tail up and away, showing two things off to Moondancer. Soft and delicious black skin, his taint plump like a peach and hindlegs crossing together to push his pouch out, and a translucent disc of silicone that stretched open his asshole, vaguely pink at the edges and darkening in the center. The sight didn’t last a second, and Moondancer wouldn’t wait one more to see it again. He descended the stairs to Anon’s side, “S-Stacks?”

“Somepony’s really excited.” Anon leapt over the last three stairs and skirted the railing to continue down to the basement. Moondancer trotted after.

The stacks were open, long rows of shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling, a thousand and one drawers and boxes containing centuries of knowledge. Nopony occupied them this late in the semester, but Moondancer still directed Anon towards a secluded back corner, jabbering as he went, “I-I just need, uhm, I won’t make it back to the dorm if—”

“You want a hoofjob?”

Moondancer’s ears caught fire. “Y-Yes.”

“Okay, sit down against the wall.”

Moondancer did so, sitting down and pushing himself back up against it. Anon parked himself in front of Moondancer, prying apart Moondancer’s legs with his hooves, “N-Now, stop your spell. I wanna have fun this time.”

Moondancer dispelled the illusion, sighing with relief as the sensitivity died down. He looked at Anon, and every insecurity welled up at once. He was on display, at Anon’s mercy, and had no experience. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as Anon stared at his cock, eyes tracing the weird, abnormal shape that came to a point before mushrooming into something grotesque. He already felt like he was going to cum. What if he didn’t last? What if he messed up? He cursed himself for not reading Posie Prose when he had the cha—

Anon looked mesmerized. He didn’t shy away, recoil, or make a nasty face. The pegasus was blushing, his wings open, transfixed. He looked up into Moondancer’s eyes, stopping his heart. “I-I’m… I’m gonna touch it now, yeah?”

“Is it… too… y-you like it?” Moondancer felt like an idiot for asking that. He wouldn’t have his hooves hovering in the air if he didn’t!

“It’s wild. A-And it’s yours, Moonie, so of course I like it.” Anon gulped. Moondancer loved the motion his throat made.

Finally, the hooves made contact, light and prodding. Neurons misfired, interrupting thought, an electrical shock zipping straight from base to brainstem. Moondancer sucked in air through his teeth, seizing up. The hooves flinched away. “S-Sorry, did that h—too much?”

Moondancer regained his breath and shook his head, “T-Too good.”

Anon looked genuine in his concern. Scared, even. Moondancer could see the early stages of his erection forming as the hooves made contact again. “O-Okay. I’m going… to go slow, so I can e-enjoy this. I don’t want you firing off before I’ve had my fun.”

“Mmm.” Moondancer squirmed against the wall, repositioning his tail and flanks to be more comfortable. He watched Anon massage his base, reflecting dim light as they moved higher with short strokes. He flicked his eyes up. Anon concentrated on his cock, oblivious to the world around him. The thought entered his mind again; this is actually happening. This is not a dream. And both of them were doing their best. His anxiety melted away to make room for passion.

Anon frowned. He took his hooves away and licked them, “Knew I shoulda brought lube…”

“Anon?”

“Huh?” Anon looked up from his hoof, mid-lick.

“I-I think your wish came true.”

“... Huh?”

“I think I love you.”

Anon’s wings snapped open. They were beautiful. Just preened and shaking a little, filling the quiet hum of the controlled climate with a whispering shhh. He looked away at the ground. “You remember the stupidest shit…”

“Can we kiss again?”

“You’re killing the mood, Moonie. You didn’t ask before, so why are you asking no—”

Moondancer leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on Anon’s lips. The warmth made him shiver, and the faint taste left of whatever chapstick Anon had used made him thirsty. Anon pushed him back, firming up the kiss and… licking his lips? Moondancer pulled away. “Why did you lick me?”

“What do you mean? You’re supposed to use tongue.”

“... Ew. Where did you get that idea from?”

“It’s not gross. It’s hot! Posie Prose does it all the time in—” Anon clammed up, snout scrunched and hooves rapping against the hard stone floor.

“You mean… you haven’t actua—”

“Of course I have! You’re the weird one for never having even heard of it before. Aphelion Heart and Ion Tail used tongue, y’know? I was about to get to it when you interrupted me that one time.”

“Uh… huh. Well, it’s gross, so I don’t want—”

“C’mon, Moonie, you didn’t even try. Give it a chance.”

“I don’t know… I guess, but don’t do weird stuff like that again without warning me first.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.” Anon initiated the kiss this time, prodding at Moondancer’s lips again with his tongue. Moondancer resisted the urge to pull away and opened his mouth, letting Anon in. Anon’s tongue touched his, then flinched away. The sensation was weird. It didn’t make Moondancer feel light and fluffy like kissing did. Anon’s tongue darted forward a few more times, and Moondancer tried to reciprocate. Their tongues bounced off one another at every contact, and Solaris forbid one tongued teeth; that broke the kiss with a shudder from the offended party—both had been on the receiving end at least once—and forced them to try again. After three attempts, they pulled apart for good.

“That… wasn’t as hot as I thought it was going to be. With you, I mean. It was totally hot all the other times I did it.”

Moondancer wore a smirk, and he felt a little ping of pride when Anon’s ears drooped. Even now, they were talking like they always did. It was absurd. “Don’t believe everything that you read, Anon. Red books are derided for a—”

“I’m going to stomp on your balls if you call Sleeping Beneath the Stars a red book one more fucking ti—”

Moondancer silenced him with another kiss. A normal one, this time. One where Moondancer melted into Anon, and Anon begrudgingly melted into Moondancer. Closed lips felt so much better, thought Moondancer, when I can focus on his breath. They matched, inhale for inhale, and outlasted their attempts at Prenching. When the kiss broke, Moondancer looked between Anon’s forelegs and saw that he was fully erect. Moondancer felt a dopey grin cover his snout, and he giggled. This was so much fun.

Anon fumed. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“No, I’m lucky I have you.”

That only annoyed Anon more. “When the fuck did you get smooth?”

Moondancer’s reply hitched in his throat as Anon grasped his cock once more and stroked from ring to base to ring and back again. The saliva, while not fresh, was enough to let Anon’s hooves glide. The rigid toe of his hoof led the sensations, followed by the firm sponge of his frog and the squish of his sole. They wrapped both sides of Moondancer’s leaking cock, traveling the length over and over with vigor.

Moondancer closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall, focusing on Anon’s pumping. The pressure increased until it felt like Anon was trying to choke Moondancer’s cock at the narrow passage before the flare and fell as his legs were pushed apart by the base. The flow of pre made Anon’s hooves slide faster, making him use more pressure. He bolted up when Anon pushed his chokehold below the flare up into the flare, bending it up as his hooves slid off it. “AH!”

Anon flinched, “S-Sorry! Did I hurt you?”

Moondancer breathed deep, filling and emptying his lungs before reclining back against the wall, “I-I’m okay. That was just… intense.” The rim of his flare stung, not quite burning, but feeling very much alive and sensitive. It wasn’t a feeling he hated. “If you’re more gentle, then…”

Anon gulped, and nodded. He leaned over and began stroking again. Moondancer watched this time. Seeing another pony labor over him like this—a pony he loved, that was no longer a debate—had him feeling close.

Anon let off when he closed in on the flare, letting his hooves spread to follow its contours. He squeezed on the tip, curving the flare’s rim up a hair before sliding off again. He ran his hooves over the ridges of the flat tip, flicking them down with gentle swipes of his hooves. Moondancer reached the edge, “I-I’m gonna—”

“Catch it in your magic!”

“H-Huh?”

“Catch it, trust me. It’s gonna be great.”

Moondancer nodded, horn glowing. He ballooned his magic out over the head of his cock, closing around the flare as a condom might. Anon grinned and pumped like there was no tomorrow, making Moondancer’s cock bounce around as he jerked him off. Moondancer’s legs began to jitter and he bit down on his hoof, eyes closed tight when he felt a lump of seed surge forward.

He cried into his hoof, the three free ones scraping against the stone as he came. Anon kept pumping, and even leaned down to lick the underside, encouraging the lumps to smooth out into healthy ropes that filled his magical condom and kept going. Moondancer expanded his magic, cum leaking down his shaft as his control wavered. It only made Anon pump harder, tongue darting out to catch the rivulets streaming out.

By the end, Moondancer was dazed. What happened in the pottery room couldn’t even compare. He felt drained, as if Anon eked out every last drop, when all Anon had done was jerk him off. If this is what a hoofjob feels like, I’m going to die if I have sex, he thought.

“Okay, can you close your magic and keep it full?”

Moondancer nodded, weak, and ‘pulled’ the magic off of himself, a pink sphere full of his cum floating between them. There was enough to fill a tall glass.

“Now, open up the top and tilt it towards me. Watch me, okay? Are you watching?”

Moondancer’s eyes fell from the sphere to Anon. Anon had tilted his head back, mouth open, tongue hanging out. He jabbed at the sphere, pointed to his mouth, and let out a pleasant hum. Moondancer’s erection stopped softening. He blinked, his breathing shallow, and shaped his magic into a pitcher, tilting it over so a milky stream fell. Anon angled his snout and caught it.

He made it look like it was the best thing he had ever tasted. Again, Moondancer watched the motions of his throat. Anon let his mouth fill before swallowing a bulging lump down in a single, pleasured gulp. He did that three times. “Pah! You have a good diet, Moonie. Salty, and a little sweet. I could drink eight glasses of that a day.”

“That was the m-most at-ta-tra—the hottest thing I have ever seen.”

“Still think Posie Prose is a hack?”

“Were you only interested in me because I reminded you of Aphelion Heart?”

“... No...”

“I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“About what?”

“About how much I resemble him, in retrospect. And you kind of resemble—”

“How about you just forget all of that and help me out, here? I can’t walk back to your dorm with this raging stiffy.”

Moondancer considered Anon’s penis. It wasn’t as good of a size as he imagined, but that was fine. Straight, black, and with a normal flare that leaked freely, making the shaft shine. Delicious was a word that crossed his mind. “I could—”

“I’m not letting you cast spells on my dick, dude. Who knows what the fuck’ll happen if some amateur at sex spells starts sorcerer-izing my junk?”

“—Why not shaft, incidentally?”

“Can’t be too predictable, Moonie. Readers hate that, and I was already stretching it with sorcerer-izing. Shoulda gone with ‘hex-slinging’ or something, yeah?”

“I didn’t take you for a serious writer.”

“I mean, I get it, but that still kinda hurts, dude.”

“Sorry. Anyway, I was going to say, ‘I could suck you off.’”

“Oh.”

A silence followed. Moondancer leaned forward towards the delectable tip, eager for a taste. “So…”

Anon spread his legs, leaning against the shelving unit behind him—The ‘Z’ unit (not because nopony ever needed the shelf—Zebrican Studies thrived in many disciplines at good ol’ CU—but because it was the furthest from the entrance)—and shuffled around, letting his back fall away from the shelf past the withers so his wings were free. “G-Go ahead.”

Moondancer got on all fours and kneeled down, wincing as his hard-on tapped against the stone floor. He stood his hind legs up and lowered his snout to Anon’s dick. No longer uncomfortable, he enjoyed the faint traces of soap and musk entered his nostrils with a sniff. It was a good smell, one that made his mouth water. He stuck his tongue out and licked the tight spot where the underside of Anon’s flare connected with the shaft. The cock bounced away from the contact, Anon’s sharp gasp making his ears flick.

Moondancer looked up, tongue hanging out. “Was that… wrong?”

Anon, lips pursed, shook his head. Moondancer looked up at Anon, flicking his gaze between the dick in front of him and Anon’s misting eyes. He moved his tongue forward and saw Anon follow the tip. Something about that captivation, the sway he held over Anon made Moondancer feel good. He enjoyed the sound of Anon’s lungs emptying in a burst as his tongue connected with Anon’s cock. Again it bounced away from him. Moondancer shuffled one foreleg to free the other, grabbing Anon’s base so it would stop bouncing away. Anon’s hooves rattled on the stone, applause as far as Moondancer was concerned. He set himself to work.

Anon’s pre tasted fresh, for lack of a better word. Somepony that ate a lot of leafy greens, hay, and herbs. Moondancer dragged his tongue up from the shaft to the head, savoring at the source. He lapped Anon’s pulsing flare with long, wide, slow strokes, judging the size. He wouldn’t have to strain his mouth, but he was still worried about teeth. Better to adjust for the size later, Moondancer thought.

He opened wide and took the tip inside, careful to close only his lips—a maneuver that was harder than he thought it would be. He froze as his lips pulled his teeth down. This wasn’t anything like his fantasies. He became aware of every movement his snout made. If he shifted his head wrong, he could bump his teeth against Anon. Or, if he took more of him inside, lever Anon’s cock against the roof of his mouth into his teeth. And while his lips were touching the shaft, what if he pursed them too hard? And where should his tongue be, what was it supposed to do? There were no less than five separate confounding factors involved in giving an adequate—

“D-Don’t stop, Moonie. Please.”

Moondancer saw the need in Anon’s eyes. His concerns took a backseat; he would go slow and figure it out as he went. His primary concern should be… movement. If he could move, he could add onto that. Moondancer kept a light seal and moved his head down, taking Anon into his mouth.

The sensation felt strange. Anon stirred the air inside his mouth, and despite his hold on the base, still twitched around. It felt alive, like a fish. Something with a mind of its own and unpredictable movement, eager to return somewhere. Moondancer preferred it to be eager to stay. He had to build up to it.

Once he felt he could move without thinking about it, Moondancer wanted to close his jaw for a tighter seal. But how would he do that without risking denture-to-dick contact? A sacrifice was necessary.

The only jaw Moondancer could move was the lower one. He moved his tongue, running it along Anon’s cock and shielding it from his teeth. A moan made him look up; Anon’s nostrils flared with deep breaths. “Y-Yeah. Use your tongue. P-Please…”

Moondancer stopped himself from nodding. He hummed, instead, and flexed his tongue, curling the sides up Anon’s length and pulling them back. Anon sounded happy, so Moondancer went back to closing his mouth. There was a heat that radiated from the cock that warned Moondancer, keeping him from ruining Anon’s pleasure. With a good seal, he returned to moving, taking his tongue out from between cock and teeth to lick it.

He could feel the heartbeat pound against his tongue. That made Moondancer short of breath; he’d never thought he could taste a pony’s pulse. He wanted it to beat faster. He looked up at Anon as he bobbed up and down. Anon looked back. The beating got faster.

“M-Moonie, I…” Anon lifted a hoof, hesitating halfway to Moondancer’s head. Moondancer hummed in response, heart skipping a beat as Anon’s hoof cupped his cheek beneath the ear. It went backwards as Moondancer went down, stroking the back of his neck and playing with his mane, making his ears flip out. Moondancer felt himself leaking on the floor. Everything about pleasuring Anon drove him crazy; listening to those hooves scrape and tap when he hit a good spot; the heated, heavy breathing that hitched in time with feeble wingbeats against the shelf when Moondancer remembered to suck; the petting and stroking, those moans...

“I-I’m clo—!”

Moondancer took him as deep as he thought he could, puckering and sucking as hard as he could muster. Anon got loud, loud enough that he hit himself in the snout with his hooves when he let go of Moondancer to mute himself. Moondancer needed to do this again, somewhere where noise wasn’t a concern. Those sounds Anon made were better than any music.

His sucking transitioned into swallowing. Anon flooded his mouth with load after load of thick, fiery cum. It set his tongue ablaze and stuck to his throat, overriding every other sense. Moondancer tasted Anon, heard him squeak and chirp, felt his cock throb and spasm in the throes of a powerful orgasm, could see his face screw up with pleasure, smelled him, and would be smelling him for hours. It felt like Anon climaxed for a lifetime, and it was still over too soon.

Anon softened and slid out of his mouth, chest caved, guzzling air, “Fuck. F-Fuck. Holy fucking shit, fuck.”

Moondancer reared back to stand, coughing into his hoof, “I take it that I did well?”

“Siblings be damned, that was fuckin’ amazing. I mean, you need practice—a lot, but—but that felt so much better than jacking off.”

“I-I’m worried about my studies, myself, because… that was beyond anything I had ever experienced. ”

Anon stood on shaky hooves, turning around, “Get ready to go even further beyond, then, Moondancer, ‘cuz the main course has finally arrived.”

“Uh, I could cast the spell and we can go back to—”

Anon braced himself against the shelf and flagged. “Shut up and fuck me.”

Moondancer’s eyes fell down to Anon’s hindquarters. Anon wiggled it back and forth, beckoning Moondancer to come over and take it. He approached with a smile, “Somepony’s excited.”

“Har-dee-har-har, make with your dick in my ass, pronto.” Anon’s own smile let Moondancer know the words weren’t genuine irritation.

Now, how should he remove it? With his mouth was out of the question, so that left a hoof, or magic. He couldn’t decide. “How do you want me to, er, take it out?”

“What, does magic feel different or something?”

“It feels… fizzy? Not exactly cold or hot, either, but I don’t want to make you… have an accident.”

“Oh, no, I cleaned house, no worries about that. I’m feeling adventurous, so use magic.”

“Alright. Here I go.” Moondancer lit his horn, magic grabbing the base of the buttplug. Anon shivered, flanks quaking. Moondancer waited until he stopped before giving the plug a gentle tug. It yielded, but was sucked right back in. He paused. “Are you alright?”

“This feels fuckin’ weird, man. Like soda being poured over my asshole, but in a good way?” Anon looked back over his shoulder. “Go slow, but don’t stop.”

“Okay, second attempt...” Moondancer put more strength into his magic, wiggling the base from side to side as he extracted the plug. Anon made all manner of little grunts, gasps, and hums as the translucent plastic spread the black ring wide open. The plug took on a peach color as more light made it through, the surface slick with whatever lubricant Anon used to wedge the plus-sized plug into himself. Shaped like a spade, once it reached the widest part of the base, it slipped out with a wet pop.

Anon shivered, his stretched hole gasping. He ducked his head between his legs, talking to the shelf, “O-Okay. Now… uhm, go ahead.”

“So I… I just put it in, right? It looks like you already lubed up.”

“Yeah. But, uh… d-don’t go crazy back there, alright? I—I like it slow. And gentle. And...” Anon’s voice trailed off, mumbling something Moondancer already knew. Anon had as much experience as Moondancer did, but he didn’t want to admit it. Moondancer could confront him, or… he could try to comfort him. What would Aphelion Heart say? He really wished he had read that stupid book.

Well, if it’s a stupid book, Aphelion Heart would say something really stupid and corny, like not being able to—oh, that’s perfect.

He stepped forward in preparation to mount. His ears flicked back, already embarrassed for what he was about to say.“I’ll try my best, but I don’t know if I… uh, ca—w-will be able to control… myself.”

Anon seemed to like it, though. His ears dipped as he whispered back, “You’d better.” It was a soft whisper, a scared one, a thankful one. Moondancer gulped his heart back down his throat and reared up, planting his forehooves on Anon’s flanks. He could feel how much care Anon had put into his coat. It was deep and inviting, and the heat soothed an ache he didn’t know he had.

Moondancer walked his hind legs forward, ‘climbing’ up Anon’s back until his flare was close enough to feel the radiant warmth of Anon’s offering. “I’m—I’m not too heavy, am I?”

“N-No. I like… your weight. I told you that before. I’m not gonna break if you lean on me, just—just, y’know. Gentle.”

“Gentle as can be. Here goes.” Moondancer pressed his hips forward, flare larger than the shrinking hole that had been revealed a minute ago. He tapped against Anon’s entrance, unsure of how gentle ‘as can be’ should be. Anon shivered at the touch, but didn’t say anything. Moondancer heard his paced breathing and saw the way his forelegs holding him up against the shelf trembled. It ate away at him to see Anon so anxious. He rubbed his hooves up Anon’s back, following the spine and weaving between the folded wings, and circled in the nape of Anon’s neck. His hooves trailed back when it felt right, massaging the shaking pegasus beneath him. He kept his flare against the entrance, but didn’t thrust. “Y-You’re, uh, pretty… handsome.”

His compliment was met with a growl, “I know I am.”

“S-Sorry.”

Moondancer’s massage faltered. Was this not making Anon relaxed? What was he supposed to do? Shoving it in didn’t seem like the right answer; the shock might hurt Anon. Why couldn’t he be the one receiving Anon, instead? Anon didn’t have a freakish flare that would spread him like butter, and it’s not as if Moondancer was out for his own pleasure. Making Anon feel good made him feel good, and that was more than enough for him.

“What’s taking you so long? J-Just get it over with already.”

“Sorry. Sorry, uh, but… your—you look tense.”

“... T-The massage was helping.”

Moondancer released a held breath he didn’t know he had and went back to rubbing Anon’s back. Anon’s wings unfolded, allowing Moondancer to massage beneath them.

“Y-You can touch them. I think that’d help.”

“I-Is that allowed?”

“You have your cock pressing against my ass, dude. We skipped every base on our way to this home run. Shit, you can preen me later if you want.”

“How, uh, how does preening work?”

“Basically, you just use your mouth to get your feathers all nice and straight, and there are these things called ‘barbules’ and it’s important to make sure that shit’s locked tight, and—look, it’s a whole thing we can get into later. Just touch me.”

Moondancer grunted something close to an affirmative response, bringing his hooves from the muscles on Anon’s flanks and touched the wings’ base. They shifted, expanding further as he explored. Pegasi wings had prominent bones; there was little else to mask them beside muscle, and those were only what were essential for flight. It was sort of like petting a down-covered stick that reacted to his touch. Moondancer ran his toe up the ligament, watching the feathers spread at his touch. It was a wonderful sight.

It wasn’t until Moondancer rubbed the base, beneath the wings, that the tension and trembling left Anon. His wings fully extended and his breathing relaxed. He still shuddered, although it was from pleasure, not anxiety. Moondancer sighed with relief, then gasped when Anon shimmied himself back against his wilting erection. It stood to attention, ready for duty. “I’m better, now.”

“You want to put me in yourself?”

“Uh… yeah, that sounds like a plan. You can move once I’m good.” Anon shifted his hooves up against the shelf for a better angle. Moondancer rested his hooves back on Anon’s flanks, watching him rock his body forward and back, working up courage. They’d taken too long, Moondancer feared, because the hole felt like it shrunk. His fear was unfounded.

Anon took a deep breath and thrust backwards, accepting Moondancer with something that sounded between a suck and a slurp. He shuddered on Moondancer and closed around the shaft, sighing, “O-Okay. I’m good.”

It was a tightness unlike anything Moondancer could have imagined. It wasn’t like a vice, or when Anon’s hooves had strangled him, but an all-encompassing contact that assaulted his senses. Hot and slippery, moving, cycling between relaxation and contracting. Moondancer buried his snout into Anon’s kiwi-scented mane to stifle his moans, something Anon sounded like he was enjoying. He giggled beneath Moondancer, inching backwards onto him, “What’s wrong, big guy? Don’t tell me you can’t move?”

“G-Gimme a second.” Moondancer was muffled by the mane. Anon wouldn’t stop rocking his hindquarters back, drawing Moondancer in a little further each time. The tightness stung, not unlike earlier; a pleasure that came too fast, too hard for him to move. Not at first.

“But Moonie, I want it now~!”

Moondancer struggled to breathe, every motion in his hips a false start that ended with a sharp inhale. “Where did all of this b-bravado come from?”

“It came from me loving the feeling of getting stuffed and needing more. But don’t you fucking dare go fast.”

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

Anon laughed. It was giddy, the pitch not in control. The sort of laugh Moondancer made during his eureka moments, one of excitement and joy that came with a revelation where pieces of a puzzle fell into place. “I guess I really am just that good.”

“Yes, yes you are. Give me another moment and I’ll start.”

Moondancer pushed himself back up out of Anon’s mane, much to the pegasus’ audible disappointment. He was cut short by Moondancer sinking deeper into him, a throaty warble that would’ve been a dead giveaway to any other patron of the stacks were they not alone.

The way Anon parted around Moondancer had him struggling to not leap from the edge. As he went deeper, Anon’s tight ass accommodated his widening length. Before he reached his ring, his flare rubbed against a hard ball of flesh, pressing into the underside of his shaft. Anon buckled underneath him, catching himself before he planted his face against the ground.

“W-Whoa, are you alright?”

“T-That’s the spot. Hit that.”

“Kneel down so you don’t fall, okay?”

Anon nodded, lowering himself in tandem with Moondancer. He kneeled down, keeping his rump in the air for Moondancer. Moondancer let his hooves slide down to the base of Anon’s wings, a more comfortable position for him and one that Anon looked like he enjoyed.

Moondancer pushed past Anon’s prostate, sinking up to his ring. Pushing in was difficult, but pulling out was another beast entirely. Anon did not want to let him go. Moondancer shuffled his hind legs forward for better leverage, using them as much as his hips to pull out. Anon shook again as Moondancer’s flare dragged back across his prostate. Moondancer, invigorated, kept short and deliberate thrusts. He pushed a few inches past that wonderful bundle of nerves and pulled back the same distance, the feeling of Anon milking him almost as good as the feeling of making Anon turn into putty. Almost.

No more conversation interrupted them as Moondancer fucked Anon. The only movement in the stacks was thrusting and shudders, the only ponies in the world him and Anon, the only sound their breathing, the wet noises both of Anon’s ends made, and hoofsteps at the far end of the library. Moondancer froze.

The hoofsteps rang out on the stone, echoing, approaching. Moondancer’s blood ran cold. What if they were found? Did they have time to look presentable? How was he going to explain the smell? It was going to be obvious to anypony that came back here what was going on. What was the punishment for getting caught having sex in the stacks? Explusion? No, no, Moondancer couldn’t be expelled, he couldn’t, he lurched as Anon shoved backwards to finish Moondancer’s thrust.

Moondancer bent down, whispering into Anon’s ear, “What do you think you are doing? There’s somepony else in here!”

“I know,” Anon whispered back, “and that’s fucking hot.”

“Expulsion isn’t ho—ouh! Stop that!”

Anon pulled himself off Moondancer with a grin, “Make me.”

“You—!” The hoofsteps stopped approaching, maybe an aisle over. Moondancer bit back a whine as Anon continued to pleasure himself on Moondancer’s cock. Moondancer couldn’t breathe. His sweater was on too tight. Every noise the two of them made sounded like thunder and he was sure the movement would draw attention like lightning if Anon didn’t stop. And with all of those heightened senses came heightened pleasure. He was going to be caught climaxing inside of Anon’s ass and—

Moondancer snorted and whined, mouth opening and biting down on Anon’s ear, making him whinney. Anon’s wings beat. Whatever hopes of remaining undiscovered were shot. And Moondancer couldn’t spare a thought to being caught because he thrust into Anon as far as he could go, bottoming out, falling on top of Anon as he came. And came, and came, and came.

Moondancer was a heap of pudgy pony atop Anon. Anon’s ear flicked out from his panting mouth. He didn’t taste any blood. That’s good. He was worried about that.

He didn’t have the energy to move or chew out Anon for the stupid stunt. All he could do was lay there on Anon, ears drooping, listening for the harbinger of the end times (of his academic career, and thus, his life). But he didn’t hear it approach. Instead, a shelf opened, papers were rummaged through, and a feminine humph of satisfaction was heard. The drawer closed and the hoofsteps receded.

Anger replaced relief in a matter of moments. “You moron.”

“Hehehe~”

“You brain-dead, single-celled, sex-crazed dumbass.”

“That was the best nut of your life and you know it, Moonie.”

“Do you have any idea what would’ve happened had we been caught?”

“Hey.”

“It wouldn’t have stopped at being barred from the library, Anon, although that would have been reason enough to not pull what you just did.”

“Hey, Moonie.”

“We would have been expelled, Anon. Do you know what expelled means?”

“Moooooonie.”

“It means the end of my entire life, Anon. My life. Everything I have worked for would have gone up in a puff of smoke because your cum-hungry brain couldn’t wait the two minutes it would have been for whatever pony just came back here to get their research materials and leave.”

“Moondancer.”

“What?”

“You just gave me…”

“...”

“... A moonpie.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.” Anon craned his neck back and kissed Moondancer on the lips. It pissed Moondancer off that it still felt good.

Anon held it until Moondancer broke off with a huff, “... Ugh. I do. But I still hate you.”

“Feels like we’re already married, doesn’t it? Bickering like this.”

“This isn’t bickering! This is me telling you that the consequences of your actions would have had a dire impact on our futures!”

“And I’m telling you to lighten up, Moonie. We didn’t get caught, felt great doing it, what’s the harm?” Anon squirmed beneath Moondancer, turning himself around so they were face to face.

“What’s the harm? I’ll tell you what the harm is. How am I supposed to get a good job if I get expelled?”

“And what do you need a good job for, Moonie?”

“For yo—” The words caught in Moondancer’s throat. He blushed, pushing his glasses up with his magic.

“Awww!” Anon pulled Moondancer into a hug, rubbing his back, “Awwwwww!”

Anon nuzzled Moondancer’s neck. Moondancer couldn’t stay upset with so much love being thrown at him. He didn’t like being manipulated, but, well, the nuzzling felt wonderful in the afterglow. He returned it, running his snout from Anon’s cheek to the base of his neck, “We’re never having sex in public again.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Moonie?”

“I left it in my other sweater’s pocket.”

“You have more than one sweater?”

“Yes? Don’t be gross.”

“Speaking of gross, I need my buttplug. I need to keep you from leaving a trail back to your dorm.”

Moondancer sighed. He magicked the buttplug up off the floor, bringing it into Anon’s reach. He didn’t take it. “Put it in for me.”

“... Fine. Stay still.” Moondancer got on shaky legs and pulled out, his soft length making it easy. Anon had receded back into his sheath, as well, but there was a damp blotch on his stomach where he had dropped into the puddle of his prostatic fluid. There was a lot. “You, uh… I-I’ll go get you some paper towels after this.”

“Oh, yeah, good call. Unless you want everypony to know we’re an item, that works too~”

“Absolutely not. N-Not like this, anyway.” Moondancer pressed the plug against Anon’s leaking hole, finding it much easier to push in than pull out. “Some got on your tail—”

“Get me towels, now.”

“But it’ll look suspicious if I bring a wad with me into the—”

“I’m going to start pulling out nerd shit to clean myself off if you aren’t back here in thirty seconds flat.”

“Fine! Fine, I’m going. Don’t do anything too stupid while I’m gone.”

Moondancer trotted off towards the exit to the stacks. The bathrooms were on the first floor, so if he stuffed the paper towels under his sweater, it shouldn’t be noticeable. He needed to dry off, too. There was a lot left and he wasn’t going to let it stew in his sheath for however long it took him to get a shower. Quiet Time waited at the exit to the stacks with Dr. Nebulebray.

“Buh—”

Quiet Time narrowed her eyes, “Moondancer.” Dr. Nebulebray looked as amused as Quiet Time. Which is to say, not at all.

Moondancer trembled, magicking his glasses back up his sweating snout, “I-I can—we were—I didn’t—I’msosorrypleasedon’ttell—”

Dr. Nebulebray booped him. “I see that you’ve made a friend. Consider your grade saved.” She held her hoof against his scrunched snout.

Quiet Time spoke next, “And I’ll see to it that you never, ever step into my library again if you use it as a bedroom for another one of your dates, Moondancer. Are we clear?”

Moondancer nodded. Dr. Nebulebray removed her hoof, amusement on her face as she bumped her side into Quiet Time, “Told you.”

Quiet Time rolled her eyes, “Couldn’t you have at least used the bathrooms?”

Moondancer made a face, “That’s gross.”

“Told you.”

With a sigh, Quiet Time stepped away from Dr. Nebulebray, letting Moondancer pass, “Just go.”

Moondancer scampered off. He returned to an irate Anon. “That was, like, multiple thirty seconds, dude. What gives?”

“We were caught and I have no idea how we’re still students.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Idiot.”

“Eh. No expulsion, no problem. Gimme my towels, your spooge is starting to set.”

Moondancer gagged, pulling wads out from his sweater, “Do you have to use such distasteful terminology? Would ‘semen’ not have sufficed?”

“Nah, ‘cuz ‘semen’ doesn’t get a reaction out of you.” Anon took the hoof-fulls of paper towel and started dabbing himself dry, pulling sheets off and wadding them up once ruined, “So, where are we going for our third date?”

“Don’t you mean second?”

“Nah, see, this counts as the second one because we fucked.”

“But all we did was have sex. We didn’t go out anywhere or do anything.”

“My, aren’t we greedy? Moonie isn’t satisfied with the hottest stallion in town with the tightest ponut, no, he needs to be wined and dined, too!”

“Ponut?”

“Pony donut.”

“Ugh. Why did I ask?”

Anon sniggered, “Because you’re the straight pony in this relationship.”

“I don’t think I’m straight at all, if what we just did is anything to go by.” Moondancer's ears flicked in annoyance at Anon's laughter.

Finished, Anon stood up. He hoofed the wad of used paper towels to clean up the spots the two of them had left on the floor, “Anyway, third date? I’m thinking we go to one of my hang-outs. I know this club that plays the best sets. Ever heard of DJ P0N-3? She kills it on the second Friday of every month.”

“Second date. And, no, I do not want to go to a club. I can’t even dance.”

“But it’ll be fun! I promise. We’ll tear the floor up, lead some mares along, make out in front of ‘em, it’ll be great.” Anon picked the wad up and offered it to Moondancer.

Moondancer accepted it with a grimace, stuffing it inside his sweater. It was sticky. “I don’t want to lead any mares along. And I don’t want to dance in public. I’ll make a fool of myself.”

“Look, dancing’s easy. Just get in the groove and go. If you’re really hung up about it, I could teach you a few moves. Hey, that’s an idea! Let’s take dance lessons!”

“I-I, uh…”

“I know this mare that’s sweet on me, Foxtrot. She’ll give us a discount and everything.” Anon walked out of the stacks.

Moondancer followed, dumping the wad of paper towels in the trash can of earliest convenience. “You are not a nice pony.”

“Did I ever claim to be?”

“No, but—”

“Then it’s settled! Dance lessons for the third date. I’ll hit her up tomorrow and schedule an appointment.”

“Second date. And—and I want something in return for going along with your dance idea!”

Anon turned to face Moondancer. They stood outside in the fading winter light, a cold wind driving Anon closer, his breath forming clouds with every exhale. “Sure. What is it?”

“I-I, uh… I w-want you to help me… practice… anal. I don’t think—that is, I don’t know if you’re fine with being the one penetrating, but I’d like to experience—”

Anon put a hoof on Moondancer’s withers, “Moonie.”

“Y-Yeah? That’s not a weird request, is i—”

Anon pulled Moondancer into a hug, whispering in his ear, “You’re the best coltfriend I could have asked for.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“I’m gonna blow your back out.”

Moondancer’s ears flicked, glowing embers on the cold and dead campus, “That’s a little much to start out with.”

Anon laughed. He laughed, and laughed. Moondancer started laughing, too. The pair bumped foreheads, cheeks rosy and snouts rubbing. “I love you, Moonie.”

“I love you, too.”

Moondancer's stomach gurgled. His blush sharpened and he looked away, "I—I haven't had much to eat, today. Do you want to go get something to eat? Someplace warm?"

Anon turned around to stand by Moondancer's side, wing hugging him close as Anon walked them away from the library, "I know this little hole-in-the-wall café that you're going to absolutely love. Croissants that you'd swear were rolled from clouds, rich and dark roasts from across Equestria, and their chocolate pudding is to die for. Thick with cream, raspberries, and chocolate shavings. Oh, but you have to eat it hot—the skin forms fast on 'em."

Moondancer smiled, leaning into Anon. "And what's wrong with pudding skin, Anon?"

"What's wrong wi—Moonie. Moonie." Moondancer looked up to see Anon returning his smile. Blushing, wonderful, his. "Let me educate you about pudding..."