“Please? Just a little?”

“No.”

Vinyl sighed and curled up to her wife, nuzzling the grey fur on her neck. “Pleeeaase. Just a little. Pleeeease.” Swiftly, her nuzzling evolved into tiny pecks, which travelled up and down the cellist’s neck, traversing the gentle fur and skin.

Octavia sighed and gave up under the loving, caring pressure. She rolled over, positioning her body on top of the pianist’s, her smile matching Vinyl’s lusty grin. Slowly, she neared the pianist’s lips and forced them into a kiss. Locked, entwined with each other, the mares began a peculiar grinding, feeling the heat wash over them. Just a little indeed, rushed a thought through Octavia’s mind. Not that Vinyl can’t hold out for more…

“Mom? Mama?”

Octavia yelped into Vinyl’s mouth and slid off the slim, sweaty body. “H-hi, sweetie!” she greeted their daughter, a tiny grey earth pony, whose mane was not yet long, but beautiful already, with streaks of blue and charcoal.

“What were you doing?” the filly asked innocently, trotting towards the bed and jumping onto it, occupying the small cavity between the two older mares.

“Oh, uh…” Octavia looked at her wife helplessly, prompting Vinyl’s brain to work hard. Alas, it was Vinyl, so there wasn’t a single semblance of thought or idea in her head. “We were just kissing,” Octavia didn’t exactly lie. I merely concealed the truth.

“Why don’t you two kiss me like that when I go to bed?” the filly pursed her lips and closed her eyes, expecting a kiss from her mothers.

Vinyl chuckled, while Octavia smiled motherly and pecked the filly on the lips slightly. “Because this kind of kiss is for when older ponies kiss. This is the kind of kiss,” Octavia explained, exchanging a look with her wife that was full of love and adoration, “that is reserved for a very special mare that you’ll like when you’re old enough.”

The filly scrunched her face. “I don’t like fillies. They are posh and stupid.”

“Well,” Vinyl echoed, sitting up in bed, “liking stallions is also an option.” The pianist wrapped her hoof around her wife and the other hoof around her filly. “Mama and I will support you anyway.” She pondered. “Unless you fall in love with a griffin.”

Octavia nodded resolutely. “Of course, sweetie. Liking colts is all right.”

“I don’t like colts,” the filly shook her head. “They are ugly and smelly.”

The two older mares exchanged worried looks. “Well, Glissando…” Octavia began cautiously. “I guess you’re just not at an age to-”

“I like ice cream!” Gliss’s face brightened up as she jumped off the bed. “I want to marry ice cream! Can I marry ice cream?”

Octavia giggled and patted her daughter’s head. “Of course you can. You can do whatever you want.” She sighed, realising how great it was that their daughter could have the future she desired - and the future she deserved. What if… a thought crawled into her head. What if Vinyl and I could also do what we wanted? Would we even have met?

“I can’t draw on Mom’s drafts,” Gliss objected, casting a glance at the white unicorn.

“Yes,” Vinyl nodded, “because you are a smart little filly who doesn’t draw on Mom’s to-be-book.”

“To-be-book?” Octavia enquired in surprise, getting up from the bed, while Gliss blushed and looked at the wall.

Suspicion immediately crawled into Vinyl’s mind as the white mare sprung from the bed. “Wait. Slidey. Look at me.” Gliss refused to even glance at her mother. “Did you doodle on my drafts again?”

“I…” Gliss bit her tongue - quite literally, staring at the far wall, as if it was the most interesting thing ever.

“Slidey.” Vinyl put her hoof on the filly’s shoulder, trying to catch her gaze. “Did you or did you not draw on the drafts for my book?”

“Your book?” Octavia blinked, marvelling at the scene unveiling before her.

“I…” Gliss gulped. “I refuse to comment on the grounds that it may incriminate me!” she blurted out, without fully understanding what she was saying.

Vinyl opened her mouth, then closed it. Then she laughed light-heartedly and ruffled her daughter’s mane. “You are just like your mother. Me,” she clarified, glancing at Octavia. “Okay, let’s see the state of my drafts.”

“Vinyl-” Octavia began, but her wife interrupted her swiftly:

“Yes, I’m writing a book. It’s like writing music, you know?” she confessed as the two mares looked at the stack of paper in the kitchen, on top of which there was a doodle of a six-legged pony. Vinyl sighed and patted Gliss’s head. “Good, Slidey. That’s one nice pony. See?” she addressed Octavia as soon as the gleeful filly had left the kitchen. “She’ll never be a visual artist. But she’s trying. That’s what I’m doing.” Vinyl sighed as Octavia took up the topmost piece of paper. “I’ll never be a writer but I at least want to have one printed book by my name.”

“White snow was falling from the sky,” Octavia read aloud and skimmed the paper briefly. “Vinyl… Is this book about me?”

“Not exactly.” Vinyl picked up the papers, skimming through the text. “Heh, a typo. It’s a book about us.” She looked up to meet Octavia’s wonderful lavender eyes. “How we met. How we fell in love. It’s the story of our lives.” Vinyl placed the papers on the table and took a step towards her wife, who, it seemed, was seeing the goofy pianist in a new light. “You know, when we grow old and frail, and sit by the fireplace in our countryhouse… Wouldn’t it be nice to just take a printed version of our lives and read it? Maybe read it aloud to Gliss and her marefriend… Or coltfriend,” Vinyl quickly supplied.

Octavia smiled. “Or her ice cream.”

“Or ice cream.”

The cellist reached out for her mare and drew her into a tight embrace. “Have you thought of the title yet, love?”

“Oh yes.” Vinyl smiled and took a step away. “I’ll call it… The Snow on Her Cheek.”