“Excuse me, um, do you need help c-carrying those, m-miss?”

Rarity glanced over her shoulder. The speaker, a young unicorn colt with lanky legs and a face full of acne, gazed up at her with a look of besotted adoration. He wore a vest embroidered with the store's name, Acclaim!, and the door he was supposed to be holding open for the rest of the fashion outlet's customers had swung shut, nearly striking an older pegasus mare in the face. Rarity couldn't help the smile that crept onto her face. Mm. Still got it.

“Oh, darling, that's quite noble of you.” She batted her eyes at him and glanced at the packages floating serenely in the air behind her. Truth be told, she wouldn't mind having a personal valet to carry them back to her apartment. Not that she needed the help – it simply meant she could shop even more. She made a show of considering the colt's offer, and just as she was about to accept, a flash of blue outside the wide glass windows caught her eye.

Rainbow Dash, of all ponies, was standing across the street. She ignored the hustle and bustle of the busy city around her as she looked into a small bookshop's window display. Her mane, as shockingly bright and garish as Rarity remembered, danced in the light autumn wind.

Rarity nearly dropped her packages in surprise.

“Sorry, maybe next time!” she said to the colt, not even bothering to face him. She pulled the door open and dashed across the street, dodging around one of the light rail carriages that ran all throughout Fillydelphia's uptown district. Rainbow Dash was still looking into the bookstore when Rarity stopped just behind her. Their eyes met in the window display's reflection, and Dash spun around to face her.

“Rarity?” Rainbow Dash looked as surprised as Rarity felt. Her wings flared like she was about to leap into the air. “Ohmigosh... Rarity!”

“It is you!” Rarity felt herself smile uncontrollably. “Why, I thought I saw you across the street, and I thought to myself, 'Surely that cannot be Rainbow Dash!' But here you are! What are you doing in Fillydelphia, dear?”

The smile faded from Dash's face, and her wings settled back to her sides. She bit her lip and glanced around the sidewalk before she answered.

“Oh, you know, just taking some personal time,” she said. Her voice was as scratchy as ever, though deeper than Rarity remembered from their magical years in Ponyville. “The Bolts wrapped up for the season last week. Good time to travel, right?” The smile reappeared, but tight around the edges. It didn't reach her magenta eyes.

“Well, any time is a good time for travel, I always say!” The pleasantries rolled off Rarity's tongue without effort. Hundreds of nights attending soirees and garden parties hosted by the highest minds in Equestrian fashion gave her countless opportunities to practice the art of speaking without really saying anything, and while she spoke, she studied Rainbow Dash's face and posture.

She didn't like what she saw.

There were still bags beneath Dash's eyes. Her ears never seemed to point in the same direction, always swiveling about, as though a thousand phantom sounds assailed her. The bright mane that caught Rarity's eye before seemed almost dull, now that she was close enough to count the individual strands.

“So, how have you been?” Rarity asked, as though the answer weren't obvious. She tried to keep the concern out of her voice. “I haven't seen you since the, ah...”

“Funeral,” Dash finished for her. “And I'm good. You know. Getting better.”

Rarity cleared her throat. How long had it been? Almost half a year, she realized. A cold spring drizzle tinged with sleet had fallen the whole day of the funeral. It was like the weather had shared in their mourning. Knowing the pegasi, perhaps it had. She shook her head to banish the memories.

“Yes, that's good to hear. Very good to hear.” She forced herself to smile again. “Have you seen any of the girls since then?”

“Huh?” Dash jerked slightly – lost in her own memories, apparently. She gave a little scowl at something, then looked back at Rarity, her expression calm once more. “Nah, been... busy. Real busy. With flying, and stuff.” A pause. “And traveling! Yup, been going everywhere. Lots of travel.”

The sidewalk traffic continued to flow around them, and in an unspoken accord they turned and walked side-by-side down the street. Upscale stores with fanciful displays – here a haberdashery, selling brightly plumed hats; there a glassblower, his window filled with a thousand wondrous creations – passed beside them, barely meriting a glance. Stately maples lined the streets, their leaves blushing red with autumn's late grandeur. Rarity ducked her head to avoid an errant branch.

“Yes, travel. How wonderful.” Rarity considered her next move. It felt like she was walking on thin ice. “Have you considered visiting Ponyville while you're free? I just know the girls would love to see you.”

“Ponyville?” An irritated, almost pained look flashed across Dash's face, though Rarity couldn't for the life of her understand why. Surely Dash didn't blame anything that had happened on Ponyville? That was years ago, and—

“What about you?” Dash interrupted her musing. “When was the last time you went home?”

“Home?” Rarity blinked. “Well, I was just heading back to my apartment... oh! You mean Ponyville, of course. I suppose it's been over a year now.”

“Why don't you go back more often?”

The question brought Rarity up short. She stopped in her tracks, then quickly stepped out of the way of a unicorn stallion and his family. A pair of young fillies toddled by, following in their father's path.

“Well, Dash... I suppose this is home for me, now.” She made a vague gesture with her hoof to encompass the bustling metropolis all around them. This, she realized the moment she first stepped in Fillydelphia, all those years ago, was home. The city was everything she ever hoped for, filled with shops and art and restaurants and ponies, a hundred thousand ponies all clamoring their way up society's ladder.

“Exactly,” Dash said. She nodded, as though she had somehow proven her point. An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. Rarity felt the ice cracking beneath her hooves.

“But you know,” she gushed. “I was thinking just the other day of visiting Ponyville again! I mean, it's been so long, right? Why, we could visit together, Rainbow Dash. We could... we could get the whole gang back together!” Her worried smile was replaced by a small, hopeful one.

Dash stared at her for a moment, then frowned and looked down at the sidewalk. Her wings flexed one at a time before settling back to her sides. She chewed on her lip for a moment. Finally, she snorted.

“Yeah, Ponyville. I guess that would be cool,” she said, a bit of her old swagger coming back. “We could party with Pinkie, grab some drinks with Applejack... heh, even Twilight would be fun to hang out with again.”

Rarity let out a tiny breath. Success! Her smile relaxed and grew wider. “Wonderful, dear. I have a few things to tie up here, but I can grab a train...” She trailed off. She had been about to say “tonight,” but that wouldn't work.

Some loose ends took more than a day to tie off.

“I can grab a train tomorrow night,” she continued after only a brief lapse. Hopefully not enough for Dash to notice. “Oh, this is going to be fun. I haven't seen Sweetie Belle in months!”

“Right, fun. It's gonna be awesome.” Rainbow Dash nodded, but her gaze was off to the side. Rarity couldn't help the feeling that Dash was trying to convince herself of that truth.

“Well, I'm so glad we ran into each other. Why, this is the best thing that's happened to me all month.” Rarity stepped forward to give her friend a hug. Dash started to flinch, almost as if afraid of the contact, but it was too late to escape. Rarity's forelegs wrapped around Dash's shoulders, and she gave a little squeeze.

Rarity had always been trim, the result of an obsession with her body image that, at times, bordered on the unhealthy. A careful diet, light exercise and an incessant work schedule gave her a perfect form. She was sleek, with just enough curves to catch a suitor's eye and say to them, “Hello, darling. Yes, you. I just wanted you to know that I am emphatically female.”

Rainbow Dash, as Rarity now felt, was beyond trim.

If Rarity took one of the wooden clothes horses from her boutique and wrapped it round with iron cords, she could not have more closely emulated the pegasus in her grasp. There was not a scrap of loose flesh on Rainbow Dash's body. Her muscles were taut bands just beneath her hide. It was like hugging a suit of armor.

She gave Dash another squeeze, then stood back.

“You... you're doing okay, right?” she asked in a whisper. The tension she felt in Dash's body was like a coiled spring, wound far beyond its tolerances and ready to snap.

“I'm fine,” Dash said. “You worry too much, Rares.” She reached out a hoof and poked Rarity in the chest. A friendly gesture; Rarity winced anyway.

“Aha, yes, I suppose I do.” Rarity cleared her throat. “Well, I need to get these packages back to my place, but I can't wait to see you--”

“Hey, you wanna hang out tonight?”

“Tonight? Well...” The question knocked her off balance, and she glanced around, stalling for time. For some reason she couldn't meet Dash's eyes. “The thing is, dear, I already have some plans for tonight.”

“Oh. That's cool.” Dash's face was a study in indifference. “No biggie. We'll see each other in Ponyville.”

Plans? Is that what you're calling it now?

“Exactly,” Rarity said. She ignored the nagging voice in her head. “I'm glad you understand.”

Oh, I'm sure she'd understand. She might not want to be your friend anymore, but she'd under—

“Well, I'm afraid I need to get these things back to my apartment,” Rarity continued, rolling right over her own thoughts. “I can't wait to see you, though. Ta ta!” She leaned forward to give Dash a friendly nuzzle followed by a sheepish nod, and then she turned and stepped away.

Her apartment was in the other direction, of course, but it would've been awkward to spend much more time in that conversation. She cut across the next block and circled her way back home. Her last sight of Rainbow Dash was a forlorn blue spot in the crowd, quickly subsumed by the bustle of Fillydelphia.

Rarity's apartment was on the floor above her boutique. It was, in a way, not unlike the arrangement she had when she owned the Carousel Boutique in Ponyville. She could work downstairs during the day and retire upstairs at night. And, of course, go shopping in the finest fashion district in the world whenever she wanted.

Her assistants had already closed up the shop by the time she returned. A neat stack of orders lay on her bookkeeper's desk, and she spent a moment flipping through them in search of anything interesting. Most were for copies of last fall's designs, just now coming back into vogue with the advent of colder weather. She would have to check her stock of fabric to make sure there was enough for all these orders.

At the bottom of the stack was a request for something new, a bespoke evening gown for a wealthy socialite Rarity had had the fortune to design for in the past. Just reading the description sent her into a moderate tizzy. Autumn foliage in rubies and lace? I can do that. She scribbled a quick note on the order, instructing her assistants to schedule a fitting session as quickly as possible. The quill was already back in its holder when she realized her error and scribbled in another line. Schedule a meeting as soon as possible – after next week.

She gave the rest of the shop a quick glance – the waiting area was pristine as always, with samples of her finest work on display. A few fashion magazines, carefully selected to feature her own wares, sat on the table. The workroom was a bit of a mess, but she let that slide. Having assistants meant making compromises, and the neatness she had so prided herself on back in Ponyville was one. Besides, creative chaos sometimes led to better results.

The apartment upstairs was spacious, nearly as large as her entire boutique back in Ponyville. Custom oak furniture, wrought by some of the best earth pony crafters, decorated each room. The walls and floor were accented in the same blues as her boutique, all of it designed to showcase the room's most precious content.

Her, of course.

She set the pile of packages down in her bedroom and turned to the closet. Calling it a closet was a bit of an understatement – it was almost half as large as the bedroom itself, with multiple aisles and shelves filled with every hat, saddle, shoe, dress or gown a pony could imagine. Each item seemed to call out to her, begging her to select it for the evening.

What to wear, what to wear. A vexing question indeed. Aside from merely impressing her date, she had to consider the environment. Dinner at one of the city's nicest restaurants? Dozens of potential customers would see her. Or later at the theatre, taking in a showing of The Mare and the Night? Hundreds of ponies might see her! She considered a wide-rimmed cerulean hat with an ostrich plume. Too fancy?

Oh, just wear what you always wear.

She scowled at the hat and moved on. A sleek black gown on a hanger beckoned her. Simple, yet sophisticated. Good for any occasion, really.

You already know what you're going to pick. Something slutty.

“No, I don't think so,” she said to the gown. She was still young for her social position, and she needed something that showed off her youth. Something that showed off her skill, but also reminded ponies who she was. She turned down the next aisle.

The blue dress caught her eye instantly. It was more of a slip, really – rich, dark blue fabric that shimmered in the dim light. She plucked it from its hanger and pranced into her bedroom to stand before the mirrors. With a thought and a bit of magic, the dress floated into position, lightly draping itself over her back. She fixed the clasp over her breast and looked up to see the result.

The unicorn in the mirror was stunning. Even with a mane slightly askew from a day of shopping, she would easily be the most beautiful mare in the theater, including the actors up on stage. The deep blue dress matched her eyes and offset her royal purple hair. She really should wear blue more often.

She nodded at her reflection and floated the dress to a nearby rack to wait. She had a few hours to kill before their dinner reservation, which meant she barely had enough time for a bath.

“So, does your sister still live in Ponyville?”

Rarity smiled across the table at her date. They had just finished the main course – a sinfully delightful plate of lightly toasted oats garnished with carrot slices and drizzled in honey – and were waiting for the desert to arrive. It was one of the better meals she'd enjoyed in months.

Even better than the food, of course, were the glances from their fellow patrons. The dim, candlelit restaurant was one of the most expensive in the city, and barely a dozen other couples shared the room with them. From the moment they walked in, Rarity had been subject to every stallion's eye. She drank their attention like a flower drinks sunlight.

“She does, she does,” Rarity answered. She paused for a moment while a waiter set their deserts before them. Some sort of carrot cake, she guessed. She gave it a little nibble and had to suppress a moan. So delicious.

“Oh, c’est magnifique,” she continued. “Anyway, Sweetie Belle. I gave her my old boutique to use as a studio. You should hear her sing – I keep telling her she has the talent to make it in a city like this, but she says she wants to stay in Ponyville. Someday I'll get her to change her mind.”

Her date nodded. He was a fine specimen of a unicorn, even by her standards. White coat, just like hers, with a dark blue mane that was stylish in a slightly unkempt manner, as though he had more important things to worry about than his hair. He worked for the crown in one of Celestia's liaison offices at the city center. Fillydelphia sometimes seemed very far away from Canterlot and its courts, and it was easy for most ponies to forget they had a princess. Celestia didn't seem to mind.

He was smart, stylish and handsome. His body was straight out of a fantasy. He was, many mares might have argued, quite the catch.

If only she could remember his name.

It was something to do with marks, she was sure. Feather Mark? No, that's silly. Hardly a name for a stallion. Check Mark, perhaps? Maybe something to do with checks? She disguised her ponderings with another bite of cake.

Oh, like you care about his name, anyway.

“Well, if she's half as talented a singer as you are a dressmaker, she would do well here indeed,” her date said. He tried a bite of the cake and made a pleased sound.

Seems like a nice pony. Better than you deserve. Can't even remember his name, but you'll fuck him as long as he reminds you of—

“Anyway, it's getting a bit late,” she said suddenly. “We should probably start heading to the theatre. I'd rather not get stuck outside with the crowd.”

He glanced at the grandfather clock standing against the wall. There was plenty of time before the show started, even if they ambled to the theatre at a slow mosey. “I suppose it is. Hopefully this show will be as delightful as the dinner.”

She smiled at him and raised a hoof to beckon their waiter. As always, she paid for both their meals and left a generous tip.

“How did you get tickets for this, anyway?” her date whispered in her ear. His breath tickled her mane, and she leaned a bit closer against his side.

“Oh, a favor here, a favor there,” she whispered back. The actors on stage were volleying lines at each other loudly enough to cover their quiet conversation. “I made a lovely little dress for one of the actresses – I think we'll get to see it in the final act.”

He hummed quietly in response, and they resumed their silence. It was actually quite a good play so far. Romance, intrigue, villains and heroines. Almost like one of the silly romances she had amused herself with as a younger mare, now brought to life on stage.

The lights overhead dimmed for a change of scene, and when they returned, new set pieces had been rolled onto the stage. The prince slept in his bed beneath a glowing moon high above his roofless room. A shadow darted across the stage and leapt through the prince's window.

“Oh, I've heard about this scene,” Rarity whispered. “Apparently it's a bit, ah, risque.”

“Well, it can't be too bad. Otherwise they wouldn't let foals...” He trailed off and glanced around. There were, in fact, no foals in the audience. Up on stage, the heroine slipped into the prince's bed.

“They don't have plays like this back in Ponyville,” Rarity said. She felt herself starting to blush. Beside her, her date shifted in his seat, and it was all she could do not to grin.

“Thank you for the evening, Miss Rarity.” Her date leaned forward to place a polite kiss on her cheek. “It was delightful. I hope to see you again soon.”

“It was my pleasure, I assure you.” She smiled and lowered her head demurely, trying not to let her thoughts show on her face. Why didn't he ask? Every stallion always asked. Did she have to beg?

You'd like that, wouldn't you? Begging him in the street? At least then he'd know what you are.

“It's still early though, isn't it?” He paused to clear his throat. “Could I, ah, interest you in a drink?”

And there it was. She let out a little sigh of relief. “That's very nice of you to offer. I think I would love a drink or two.”

And maybe something else besides? But hey, might as well keep up the act. You're still a good pony.

He grinned, looking a bit silly, and held open the door to his apartment. She lightly brushed against him as she entered.

The apartment was dark, with only a single lamp keeping the night at bay. Her date bustled around her to turn on a few others, and the rest of his home came into view. It was tidy–either he was unusually organized for a bachelor or he'd entertained some hopes of this very outcome. Most stallions did. She buried a smirk before he came back around, a tumbler and a pair of glasses hovering in the air beside him.

“Is scotch alright?” he asked. “I'd offer some wine, but I don't have anything chilled.”

“A scotch would be delightful,” she said. She stretched out on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her body. It wasn't as nice a couch as hers, but then, he only had a government salary.

It was a good enough couch, she decided.

He took a similar position on the rug in front of the couch and floated a pair of glasses between them. She carefully grabbed one with her magic. They clinked them together and each took a deep sip. The fiery liquid burned its way down her throat and seemed to settle in her chest, filling her with a deep, soothing warmth.

“Oh my,” she said. “That's good stuff.”

He tilted the bottle in the air, inspecting the label. “It was a gift from a few years back, actually. I've been saving it for a special occasion.”

Aww, he called you special. Good thing he doesn't know he's just a nameless stallion filling a hole in your life. That'd kill the mood, wouldn't it?

She ignored her own thoughts, chasing them away with another sip. Besides, he wasn't nameless. Mark, mark, something mark...

“Bright Mark!” she blurted. It was shockingly loud as it broke the romantic quiet.

He started at the sound of his name and gave her a bewildered glance. “Er, yes?”

“Ahem, sorry. I was, just, ah...” She felt herself blushing and hoped it was too dim for him to notice. “Just surprised you would open such a special gift, just for me.” There, that was appropriately sappy.

It seemed to mollify him. He gave her a smile. “I think you underestimate how special you are.”

This time she didn't mind the blush. She finished off her glass and set it down with a very deliberate air, then lowered her head onto her crossed forelegs. Her eyes were level with his. Come on, take a hint!

He did. He set his glass beside hers, then leaned forward to brush her cheek with his lips. It was more of a nuzzle than a kiss, and she hummed encouragingly in response. She felt him smile, and he leaned forward, pressing his mouth against hers. Lightly at first, then more insistently. His tongue pushed against her lips, and she met it with her own. The kiss stretched out for long seconds.

She broke away with a quiet sigh. He wasn't a bad kisser, at least as far as she could judge such things. Firm, but not crassly aggressive with his tongue like so many stallions. She shifted onto her side and gave him her best “come hither” look.

It worked. He took a breath, then followed her up onto the couch. It was barely large enough for the two of them, even with most of him overlapping her. The poor thing simply hadn't been designed for this sort of activity. She grinned at the thought and lifted her head to steal another kiss.

He rested his forelegs on either side of her body, taking enough of his weight that she felt comfortably pressed rather than crushed. She squirmed beneath him, running her hooves up and down his huge chest while they exchanged more kisses. The bite of scotch on his tongue slowly faded as their saliva mingled.

“Wait,” she said. She pushed him away with her hooves and wriggled out from beneath him enough to free her dress. A quick thought and surge of magic unclasped it and floated it off her body. She folded it, very neatly, and then set it on the arm of a chair safely off to the side.

“Ahem. You may continue.” She drew a hoof along his chest as she settled back down onto the couch. He grinned at her, and they spent the next few minutes in a warm haze. The scotch had settled pleasantly into her brain, banishing for a time the critical thoughts that always seemed to pursue her. She didn't think – she simply enjoyed the feel of his tongue against hers and the delightful weight of his body pinning her to the couch.

The kissing stopped, and she was about to open her eyes to see why when she felt his lips press against the side of her neck. She cooed quietly, then drew in a quick breath as he nipped at her skin. So, that's what he likes, hm?

She tilted her chin back, exposing more of her neck to his questing lips. The familiar warmth had finally started to build between her legs, pulsing with the beat of her heart, and she pushed her hips insistently against him. He let out a shuddering breath, warm and hot against her neck, almost as hot as his tongue as he traced a wet trail up to her jaw and then her ear. Her ear flicked around maddeningly before he captured it with his teeth and nibbled on the firm, sensitive flesh.

Rarity absently regretted that she wasn't the one nibbling on him, but it was getting hard to keep her thoughts straight. She settled for running her hooves through his mane, down his back, along his sides and against his chest. His body was pleasantly toned, hard where she was soft, filled with power and strength that screamed masculinity. She writhed beneath him and moaned as the heat between her legs became an inferno.

And then his hoof was tracing its way down her side. She jerked and gasped as it pressed against her mark, then gasped again as he pushed it between her legs in search of that burning heat which was already filling the room with a musky scent.

Despite her body's clear and open invitation, she tensed, her limbs locking in place around his sides. This was the part she always dreaded, when they felt how wet she was, how shameless she was. His hoof lightly touched her there, between her legs, and the drawn out moan that poured from her throat was equal parts pleasure and fear. If he were a good pony, this was when he would push her away in disgust, order her out of his house and onto the street like the shameless hussy she was.

But he didn't. Instead he returned his mouth to hers for a deep kiss, and his hoof pressed against her lips, parting them ever so slightly. A surge of pleasure shot through her, and when she moaned again it entirely out of lust. The fear, for now, was banished.

Of course he doesn't care. They never care. He always knew you were a slut.

She bit his lip, harder than she intended, drawing a surprised grunt from her lover. He pulled back, his breath hot and ragged. Even in the dim light, she could see in his eyes the feral intensity that was beginning to take over. The cuddling and foreplay wouldn't last much longer, she guessed.

“Would you like to go to the bedroom?” she whispered.

He nodded, and just as quickly was off of her. She rolled off the couch onto the floor, and they walked together down the apartment's lone hallway, bumping and nipping playfully at each other the whole way. Their play grew hotter and heavier, and they almost didn't make it to the bedroom.

His room was small, and the bed small as well, but she judged it would be large enough for their purposes. She gave him a final bump with her shoulder, then darted toward the bed, hopping up to plant her forelegs upon the mattress. She turned to look over her shoulder and flicked her tail to the side, giving him a glimpse of her most private of treasures.

It had the desired effect. He stepped forward, ready to mount her, and she slipped away from him up onto the bed. Her tail flicked gently against his snout along the way.

“Tease,” he accused her with a grin. She smiled back and settled onto the bed, her hooves pawing at the sheets beneath her. They had a surprisingly high thread count, she noted.

He hopped up onto the bed, setting the whole thing creaking. She wondered for a moment if it would support the stress they were about to subject it to, and then the thought was driven from her mind as he mounted her, pushing her down with far more weight than before. Her tail strained to the side, entirely of its own accord, exposing her to the world. He nibbled at her neck again, and she let out a shuddering moan.

Shameless.

“Are you ready?” His breath tickled her ear. The head of his cock pressed up against her entrance, and she felt her legs shaking, like she had just run a dozen miles.

Beg him. Show him what you are.

She didn't beg. She didn't need to. A quick, jerky nod was all it took, and his hips pressed forward. Inch by inch he penetrated her, spreading her wet passage apart to accommodate him. He grunted into her ear and pushed again. Her hooves dug into the covers as she gasped. As always there was the slightest sensation of pain as she stretched open, defeated entirely by the animal pleasure that washed through her pelvis. She moaned and pushed back against his hips until he was as deep into her as a stallion could go.

They lay together for a few minutes, unmoving, conjoined, panting. She shifted her hips and felt his head twitching deep within her. The feelings – of being pinned, penetrated, possessed by this stallion, by her prince – could have lasted forever. It was enough for her.

Not enough for him, though. He tugged at her mane with his teeth and began moving his hips, slowly at first, then ever faster. Each thrust sent shudders through her body, accompanied by tiny, unladylike gasps of pleasure that escaped from her mouth. The fullness, the pleasure built with each stroke. She moaned, louder, and turned her head to bite the sheets.

Slut. Whore.

It was over too soon. That was no strike against him – he lasted admirably long. But eventually his thrusts grew faster and harder, less even, like he was out of control. Each stroke rocked her entire body and set the bed swaying. The pressure within her grew higher and higher, almost reaching the peak. She pushed against him with each thrust, utterly shameless.

He thrust one final time, nearly crushing her hips against the bed with his weight. She felt his shaft pulsing, followed by a warm flood. She strained, almost at the peak, and reached a hoof down between her legs to help press herself over the edge. A light touch was all it took, and her body shook with ecstasy.

They panted together for a few moments, unmoving. He was still buried within her. She turned her head, and he leaned down to kiss her again. They shared the pose, both satiated, until he slipped out of her and lay down by her side.

Rarity never knew what to say at times like this, so she kept her mouth shut. His foreleg reached across her back to pull her closer, and she settled against his chest with a satisfied sigh.

It wasn't bad, really.

Not bad at all.

They both got what they wanted.

Right. He got you, and you get to pretend for a little while. Seems fair.

His breath tickled her mane, and she felt the rise and fall of his chest grow steady with sleep. Stallions – always the same.

He'd make a nice prince. Except, of course, he isn't one. Just some nameless stallion you wanted to fuck.

Bright Mark was a good pony, she decided. Courteous, thoughtful and generous. She could appreciate that last part more than most.

Right. Rarity: ever so generous. Such a wonderful role model you make for foals. Except the part where you're a slut.

She let out a breath and closed her eyes. Sleep, sleep. Any time now, sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day, making sure the shop would tide over until she returned from Ponyville. It would be so nice to see the girls again. Especially Rainbow Dash.

Whore.

She didn't mind the thoughts that kept playing out in her head. All ponies were plagued with doubts, after all. Some more than others.

Shameless.

So maybe life hadn't turned out the way she expected. Her prince was still out there, and until then, this would do. She realized long ago that self-loathing was a small price to pay for some things. She cuddled up against the stallion holding her in his sleep.

Right, keep telling yourself that.

The price of not being alone.