Rara's Redemption (Coloratura & You)


                                            Original thread: https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/35864686


                                            >*scritch* *scritch* *scratch*

                                            >The gentle sounds filling the air of the Manehattan penthouse suite do not match the energy behind the words creating them.

                                            >Silence only briefly breaks the sound as you lift the quill from the parchment to gather more ink.

                                            >You have no difficulty thinking of the words you are writing as they flow onto the page from your heart.

                                            >This has been a long time coming, especially due to how much as you put it off.

                                            >As much as the words hurt as they were ripped out of your emotions, they left a cool clarity in their place.

                                            >This was for the best and you knew it, even if you had to blink away tears as you set about your heartbreaking task.

                                            >Yet you knew your heart had already been broken, only now acknowledging it.

                                            >With how well things had started between you and her, it was hard to believe your relationship could have gotten so strained.

                                            >Worse yet was the absence of addressing it.

                                            >She had to have known there was a problem, you had voiced as much to her on more than one occasion.

                                            >Yet still, nothing. Virtual radio silence from her.

                                            >Perhaps she thought by ignoring this issue it may go away on its own, or maybe 'the countess' is above such things.

                                            >'The countess' doesn't have relationship troubles.

                                            >'The countess' is too perfect for that.

                                            >The thoughts drive your hand with bitterness and regret, scratching the most recent words a little too deep into the paper.

                                            >Maybe if you had spoken up sooner, things would be different.

                                            >As much you can dwell on her avoidance of the heavy subject, you know your own hands are stained in that regard as well.

                                            >When things were starting to slowly get worse, you know you should have put your foot down, yet there was a part of you that just didn't want to admit it.

                                            >You had filed away the red flags in the recesses of your mind instead of being a man and facing them head on.

                                            >It worked, for a time.


                                            >Yet your willful ignorance caused them to fester.

                                            >While you and she continued to live a fairly happily together, your resentment built.

                                            >Resenting her, for her ego which grew daily.

                                            >For her fake persona which had replaced her true self gradually over time.

                                            >Resenting yourself, for permitting this all to happen without making a stand for both of you.

                                            >For being content to pretend at a falsely happy relationship, instead of struggling together through a real one and becoming better for it.

                                            >By the time you realized things were not going to improve on their own, it was too late.

                                            >The course had been set.

                                            >Sighing with regret, you pause your writing to look out from the absurdly expensive room's windows.

                                            >The early morning Manehattan skyline, while beautiful in its own way, never really appealed to you.

                                            >Especially now as all it does is remind you of previously happy moments you shared with her, looking at it together.

                                            >Now you can only look at the past with lens of regret.

                                            >These memories fill your eyes with tears again, staining your cheeks with their bitterness.

                                            >Wiping them away and shaking your head, you are interrupted from writing again by the sound of hooves outside the door.

                                            >Preparing to explain to an obsessed fan that she's not here, you stand.

                                            >She's not here at all lately, you think with a grimace.

                                            >Unexpectedly, you hear a key turning in the lock.

                                            >Your pulse jumps in your neck as you begin to feel the panic set in.

                                            >She's not supposed to be back yet.

                                            >Though you would have preferred to tell her about 'taking a break' face to face, you can't stand the thought of doing so with that ridiculous veil in the way.

                                            >It would hurt too much.

                                            >The door swings open, revealing a smiling Rara.

                                            >The real one, which you've not seen in a long time.

                                            >"Anon! I'm so happy to-"

                                            >She freezes a few steps into the suite, smile dropping as her jaw falls open.

                                            >"You-you're... you..."

                                            >"You're leaving?"

                                            >Her small voice shoots through your heart, paralyzing you.


                                            >You’ve not heard her genuine voice for months.

                                            >The sincere pony you grew to love, hidden for so long behind fake eyelashes, makeup, and a veil, is suddenly standing in your doorway.

                                            >The shock on your face must mirror hers.

                                            >Though yours is more from surprise hers obviously indicates pain.

                                            >A deep pain driven straight into her heart.

                                            >You try to say something, but you can’t get your voice to work for some reason.

                                            >The packed bags and traveling coat you’re wearing are answer enough.

                                            >Even from here you can see her eyes water, and within moments tears are cascading freely down her cheeks. She’s crying silently with her wide eyes, still too shocked to vocalize her hurt.

                                            >Your mouth is dry. You’re stuck watching those painful drops as they leave wet tracks in the short hairs of her face. You notice there’s no mascara in them, she’s free of makeup.

                                            >Some travel down to her nose, falling to the floor with the smallest sound.

                                            >Your heart and mind are struggling to figure out what to do. Stop fixating on details and say something you idiot, stop staring! Come on! Please say something!

                                            >You’ve got your mouth moving now, but still no sound. You can’t find the right words.

                                            “I-“

                                            >”I’m sorry!”

                                            >Her outburst cuts you off.

                                            >”This is all my fault, I’m such a stupid pony!”

                                            >This wasn’t the Coloratura you were mad at, this was the original.

                                            >”I was stupid, and stubborn, an-and I got caught up in trying to be somepony I wasn’t, and n-now you’re leaving me and it’s all my fault!”

                                            >Her sobs are flowing freely now, punctuating her self-critical rant as she fails to choke them back.

                                            >”Why? I don’t actually care about money, or fame, or any of that! I care about ponies, about Equestria. I don’t want to be fake anymore! Who cares if I can’t reach as many ponies, if my music doesn’t inspire them there’s no point!”

                                            >”Now I’ve hurt the person closest to me.”


                                            >She’s trembling now, from a mix of anger and guilt. Yet she’s looking you straight in the eyes.

                                            >Her fiery honesty cuts through it all, the tears, the shame, the past hurt.

                                            >It’s thawing your heart from the months of coldness you’ve grown accustomed to.

                                            >Suddenly she loses that spirit though, turning her eyes to the floor as the guilt weighs down her head.

                                            >”I-I’ve made mistakes I can’t take back. I’m just a dumb pony who played at being somepony great. I know why you’re leaving, and, and…”

                                            >Her breath catches as she tries to steel herself. She looks up at you again.

                                            >”You should want to leave. I’ve been a bad pony, you deserve better.”

                                            >You only now realize your own tears have been flowing for some time, as her words hit home the reality of what you were about to do.

                                            >You envision her cold and alone, without you by her side.

                                            >”I know I’m too late now. I just wish I had said something sooner, but I was so focused on- no, no it doesn’t matter why.”

                                            >”Before you leave, I want you to know I am so sorry. I didn’t treat you like you deserve, you’re the greatest thing to ever happen to me. I’ll let you go, please just find somepony who will treat you right.”

                                            >She moves to step out of your way so you can walk out of the room. Out of her life.

                                            >You step forward and she shuts her eyes, unable to watch you leave.

                                            >Not today, little pony.

                                            >You walk to her, kneeling and embracing her in a hug. Her surprised gasp isn’t enough to quell her sobbing. Her body begins to shake as she weeps, letting go and openly crying into your shoulder.

                                            >You’re crying into her neck as well. Your world becomes filled with her, the real her. Her shaky cries, the beat of her pulse against your ear, the clean scent of her mane and coat. The genuine close contact with everything bared is raw. It’s not pretty, but it has beauty in it.

                                            >You both lose track of time, drinking each other in after such an extended time apart from your true selves.


                                            >You hold her, and she holds you. You make up your mind to never let her go again. You’ll do whatever it takes to keep her true to herself this time.

                                            >She pulls away to peer into your eyes, her own bloodshot but sparkling with renewed hope.

                                            “I missed you.”

                                            >You don’t even have to think about it, the words come forth of their own accord. It’s true, you’ve missed her so much it aches.

                                            >A small laugh of joy bursts out of her, the musical nature of it tickling you with shivers down your neck.

                                            >”You’ll stay? I’m not too late?”

                                            >Her voice is still shaky but you can hear her desire to make things right.

                                            >The question lingers in the air for not more than two moments.

                                            “I’m not going anywhere.”

                                            >She lets out a hitched breath and relaxes her muscles, clearly relieved.

                                            “I think we should have an honest talk though.”

                                            >She nods and allows you to pick her up and carry her to the couch. You’ve spent many evenings just like this, cuddled together watching the sun set over the skyline. This time the cool clouds outside reflect the more somber, serious mood.

                                            >You hold her close, arms wrapped around her barrel as she tells you about the most recent stop on her tour, in a small town called Ponyville. She tells you how she met a pony living there who was a friend from foalhood, and how this friend of hers shook her back to her senses.

                                            >She even fired her faggy manager, Svengallop (now you won’t have to worry about him stealing your expensive oats anymore, that cunt) and did her whole show without him.

                                            “I’m proud of you Rara. That took some guts.”

                                            >”Well it wasn’t the same show; I had to make a lot of changes. It felt better though. I was happier with myself and I think the audience liked it too. I was just myself, for the first time in a long time.”

                                            “I think I need to find this Applejack and thank her personally. She brought you back to me.”

                                            >”You know she’s the first one who called me Rara? It was her idea actually. It suits me better than my full name anyway.”


                                            “She sounds like a good friend, honest enough to speak plainly even if it risked your friendship.”

                                            >”I’m sorry I acted-“

                                            “One apology is enough Rara, I accept it. I was being selfish anyway. If I had spoken up sooner, or really tried to get through maybe I could have helped. I was trying to take the easy way out after just putting up with it. I should’ve done more, so I’m the one who should apologize.”

                                            >She relaxes against your body as you hold her.

                                            >“Apology accepted then. Thank you for putting up with my mistake for so long.”

                                            “Hmmm.” You make a show of scratching your chin. “I’m not sure the countess was a total mistake, her music wasn’t bad. She needs work on her personality though.”

                                            >She giggles, wiggling deeper into your arms. How you’ve missed these times. Simply relaxing together with your marefriend, sharing body heat, the view, the ambient noises. Just being there with her doing nothing, or anything. She made everything better.

                                            “Have you thought about what’s next? Since your current tour is cancelled and you seem set on changing your style.”

                                            >”You could join me.”

                                            >Your eyes widen at the suggestion you should’ve seen coming. Early on in your relationship she had this idea, it was part of how you met after all. Her manager wouldn’t budge though. You weren’t one for entertaining large groups of ponies either.

                                            “I don’t know Rara, maybe that would be too different for your fans.”

                                            >”I don’t care if some fans dedicated to the countess personality don’t approve! I’m feeling more free this way than I have since I started singing. We could stick to small venues – I know how you feel about crowds.”

                                            >”It would make me happy to have you by my side.”

                                            >That’s all you needed to hear, you’re convinced.

                                            “Alright. Sounds like we need to start writing some music then. We should think of places to perform as well, it seems like everywhere local is usually booked in advance.”


                                            >”How about we go back to Ponyville? I could introduce you to my friend and her family there, since you’re keen to meet her. She has an adorable younger sister who can really sing, along with her friends.”

                                            “I’d like that.”

                                            >”Maybe we could look for a house there too.”

                                            “Seriously?”

                                            >”I know you don’t like the big city and I would honestly prefer to live somewhere else too. I was supposed to be here for my music connections, but since that’s not my real concern I’m not going to worry about that anymore. Canterlot has its own music scene anyway and Ponyville is fairly close by. It all makes sense in a way.”

                                            >It definitely sounds nice, living in a more rural setting with your mare. Perhaps a fresh start would be healthy for both of you. Even though you had been living together for some time now, you want to do so with the real her. Maybe a new environment is a good way to give yourselves the freedom you want.

                                            >”It’s also really cheap there for some reason, maybe it gets attacked by monsters and chaotic magical beings every week! Hehehe!”

                                            >You both laugh at her joke, it’s probably just cheap because it’s not the city. Probably.

                                            >”Hey.”

                                            >You look down at the snug pony in your arms. She’s looking up at you with her gentle smile.

                                            >”It’s been so long since I’ve been with you like this. I’m happy right now.”

                                            “So am I.”

                                            >She looks over at your guitar case, on top of your other luggage.

                                            >”Would you play that song for me? The one you were playing when we met? I don’t ever want to give up on us again.”

                                            >You stand, placing her back onto the warm couch and retrieving your guitar.

                                            "I love to play music for you, you're the first that listened."

                                            >Sitting across from her on the other end of the couch, you begin to play. As you focus on the music you reminisce to the day you met her.

                                            https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RViFRTgC2y4


                                            >After your 'arrival' to Equestria, things were a bit difficult. Ponies in Manehattan were too busy to care about you once the novelty of "only one of my species" wore off.

                                            >In between odd jobs you took your guitar to the streets. It was one of the few things that had come with you along with your memory of some songs you used to play.

                                            >It worked well enough. Most ponies were too busy to even look at what you were doing, though some of that crowd would toss a few bits as they trotted by. A handful would pause and listen for a bit then continue on their way, only sometimes donating.

                                            >Once you were even harassed by a manlet pony as he called you a "featureless, no talent" after he asked where your cutie mark was.

                                            >You just needed to make enough bits to cover next month's rent and some extra to fund looking for a stable job, but this prospect was becoming more unlikely as time went on. As the days went on your outlook became more burdened with despair.

                                            >Yet you would keep yourself steady on your path. One song in particular would keep your spirits determined enough to press on.

                                            >You didn't sing it everyday but instead saved it for the more trying ones, especially when your hat went empty the entire time. This was one of those days.

                                            >It would be so easy to give in to that despair, to wallow in being separated from your home, your people. You had to keep going though sometimes you weren't sure why.

                                            >This day had been particularly debilitating. No money earned, and not a single pony stopped to listen. So you closed your eyes and turned to this song.

                                            >Even if you were singing it to yourself, the words still rang true. You had to stay determined.

                                            >As you finished the last verse, you heard something you never had before.

                                            >Applause. Or at least, the pony version.

                                            >Opening your eyes greeted you with the visage of a smiling young mare. A light coat offset by her deep blue mane, the curls of which were bobbing as she clip-clopped on the ground in place.


                                            >Her eyes were closed as she smiled and continued to 'clap' for you.

                                            >It was gratifying to receive something you hadn't known you were missing.

                                            >Her applause came to a halt as her eyes sprang open, filled with life itself it seemed.

                                            >Those teal pools immediately caught you and drew you in.

                                            >And her voice, oh her voice!

                                            >"That was incredible! I've never heard a pony sing or play quite like that before! Though I guess you're not a pony, are you?"

                                            >Like chimes running down your spine, it was distracting and at the same time demanded your full focus.

                                            >"What are you doing on the street? With your talent you should be in a recording studio! Do you just do this for fun?"

                                            >Those eyes glimmer and shine as she awaits your answer.

                                            "I-uh, I'm not doing this for fun, I need the money."

                                            >You couldn't think of any better answer, distracted with her as you were.

                                            >A cute frown appears on her face.

                                            >"Oh that won't do at all! Ponies really need to be nicer in this city. You don't know who I am do you? That's ok, nopony does unless I'm on stage in a weird outfit. Come with me, I want to talk to you about music!"

                                            >From there she had led you to a coffee shop and paid for the both of you, a small act of generosity yet one you had not encountered in quite some time.

                                            >The two of you talked, learning about each other and your music. When she learned of your situation she practically forced you to accept her help.

                                            >Over time you grew close to her, and she to you.

                                            >You both slipped into dating each other comfortably, not once questioning the love you felt for each other over silly concerns of compatibility. It hardly even occurred to you that she wasn't human, she was a pony. She had no qualms about the issue either.

                                            >Though her initial ideas of creating music together had fizzled out with her manager's opinion, she and you found something special in each other.

                                            >It was the best time of your life.


                                            >As you bring your thoughts back to the present you finish strumming your guitar and focus on her. She's come back to you, she's real, and she doesn't ever want to leave again.

                                            >Her closed eyes open as you finish and she gives you a wide smile.

                                            >"As beautiful as when I first heard it. Yet not quite as beautiful as you are to me."

                                            "You saved me that day we met. I thought I had a plan but I was just surviving. You gave me a place to stay and a purpose. I can't wait to make music with you, miss Coloratura."

                                            >She giggles, her tail flicking around as she rests on the couch with her legs tucked under her.

                                            >"I look forward to it as well, Mr. Anon. Though I'm also anticipating making something else with you right now."

                                            >Her tail continues to flick around, spreading a slightly heady, musky scent through the room.

                                            >It has been a while since you were intimate with her, and it appears your music helped put her in the mood.

                                            >As she hops off the couch and makes her way toward the bedroom, her tail continues its rapid motions, giving you some fleeting glances of her need.

                                            >"I want to make it up to you for putting up with me for so long, but I also just need you now. Don't make me wait too long dear. I want us to both enjoy each other again."

                                            >One last tail flick and she's rounded the corner to the bedroom.

                                            >With urgency you put your guitar in its case and shed your overcoat.

                                            >Your gaze falls on the letter you had worked so hard at, now seeming like just a childish rant in your eyes.

                                            >Crumpling the paper into the bin next to the desk, you make your way to the bedroom.

                                            >Things are best said face to face anyway.


                                            BONUS LEWD CONTENT

                                            >Opening the door allows the now slightly warmer air to escape right into your face.

                                            >In the relatively short time she’s been waiting, she has filled the room with her scent. A wonderfully heady mixture of vanilla, honeysuckle, and… something else seeps into your lungs. It’s uniquely her.

                                            >It intoxicates you.

                                            >Your heart drums at your ribs steadily, speeding up slightly in anticipation of what’s to come.

                                            >Her desire has become your desire and it drives you forward into the room.

                                            >Your body is ready, but with the last of your lucidity you take back the reigns. No need to rush things.

                                            >You steady your breathing and take measured steps toward the tall canopied bed. You know she’s waiting behind the drapes, her vague silhouette cast upon them by the afternoon sun.

                                            >Taking your time, you remove your layered clothing one piece at a time. Though the fabric between you and her is hard to see through, you still feel her eyes on you. A good show builds anticipation for both of you.

                                            >Tossing your clothes away, you approach the bed, already at full attention.

                                            >You just need to hold back your desires a bit longer. You make your presence known with your heavy breathing just outside her current domain, waiting for her need to boil over.

                                            >She gives a cute, slightly angry “Hmph!”

                                            >”Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?

                                            >At her signal you throw open the curtains and are met with a breathtaking sight.

                                            >She’s positioned in your favorite pose, with her front hooves reaching forward and her hind planted as she shoves her rear backward, like she’s stretching her glutes.

                                            >It entices you and you can feel yourself salivating.

                                            >Your quick motion of tearing the bed covering open startled her slightly, tickling her flight or fight response.

                                            >Her marehood winks powerfully one time, spraying her anticipatory juices in the air and onto the sheets, forcing her to keep her clit on display for a solid three seconds.


                                            >You can physically feel the rush of blood to your head as your body responds to your mare’s display.

                                            >Her legs buckle slightly as her marely rose resumes winking rapidly. You can see her muscles all around it clenching down in tempo.

                                            >She really needs this, and with her pheromones coursing through your body you have no choice. You need it too.

                                            “I’m going to grab you now, alright honey? Don’t buck.”

                                            >That was a fairly painful memory you didn’t want to relive, but the thrill of capturing your mare was too good to pass up.

                                            >She nods rapidly, tail hiking even higher with trepidation. She breathes out, readying her brain to suppress her instincts.

                                            >”Okay, I trust you, I trust you, you’re not going to hurt me… do it.”

                                            >You release control of your baser self, lunging forward and palming both cheeks with your hands.

                                            >With a whinny, her whole body shivers in surprise. Her rear legs lift off the bed, but she keeps control enough to keep from finishing the motion and kicking back into you.

                                            >That was close, but so worth it. You squeeze your fingers into her plush pony posterior, kneading her powerful muscles as they relax and give to your persistent massage.

                                            >You could grope that perfect earth pony butt forever, but you’ve got a needy mare to please and you’re done teasing.

                                            >Maintaining your grip with one hand, you bring the other to her dock, grabbing onto it and rubbing it with your thumb.

                                            >”Mnnnggh!”

                                            >Music to your ears, her moan spurs you to further action.

                                            >You clamber onto the bed, yanking her back right into your face.

                                            >So close to the source, her musk slams into you as you take in full breaths like they’re going to be your last.

                                            >You plant a kiss onto her clean ponut and make your way down to your soaked, dripping, frantically winking prize.

                                            >Each wink aerosolizes her sweet fluid. The spray warms your face as you open your mouth.

                                            >She tastes just how you remember, the purest vanilla flavor you’ve ever known cascading over your taste buds.


                                            >Diving right in you run your tongue up and down her slit, desperate to drink her in.

                                            >”Aaah, haaah, mnfff.”

                                            >Her throaty moans fill your ears. They’re the perfect encouragement.

                                            >”Ohhhh, Oh yes!”

                                            >You continue to make out with her lower lips, enjoying this almost as much as she is.

                                            >Planting your lips over the bottom of hers, you suck her flesh exposing her clit to your thrashing tongue.

                                            >”Haaaah, please, haaah, nnnnff, haah, too much!”

                                            >Giving her pleasure satisfies you to your core.

                                            >Yet you know what you both want.

                                            >With one last smooch, you pull away.

                                            >Her panting and your breathing are all you can hear, besides the slight squish accompanying her clenching marehood.

                                            >Using your hand to guide you, you rub the head of yourself against her lips.

                                            >She’s totally soaked.

                                            “Ready Rara?”

                                            >”Mmmhmm. I’m yours.”

                                            >You drive your hips forward, sinking slowly into her molten furnace.

                                            >Rivulets of her juice run down your shaft as you both moan out with abandon, overwhelmed by the initial penetration.

                                            >Hilting inside her, you pause and try to adjust to her incredible heat. Her whole tunnel clenches around you rhythmically as her clit winks out to kiss your sack.

                                            >You can feel every detail, every ridge and bump of her through your intimate connection.

                                            >”Ahh-alright, I’m read-“

                                            >You pull back watching and feeling her lips cling to you, and push back in quickly.

                                            >”Nnnggghaa!”

                                            >You quickly work up to a faster pace plunging in and out, angling yourself down slightly to scrape her walls with your ridge.

                                            >Her moans and breaths sing out her pleasure with your work, treating your ears to wonderful, primal music.

                                            >Keeping one arm on her flank, you bring the other hand to reach below her belly toward her quivering sex.

                                            >As your fingertips reach the tip of her mound to prod her pearl, your hand can feel the bulge you’re making as you stretch her.

                                            >You keep this up until she stops pushing back into you. She’s losing energy as you drain her stress and energy with your lovemaking.


                                            >Time to kick things up.

                                            >You stop your bucking hips and lean forward onto her back, grasping one arm around her barrel and one on the front of her neck.

                                            >Her whole body stiffens as she recognizes what’s happening.

                                            >You bring your lips up to her ear, nibbling on it as you whisper to her.

                                            “I know you’re close. Get ready Rara.”

                                            >Lowering your head to her neck, you open your mouth and bring your teeth down with a quick bite, pressing your sharp canines onto her skin forcefully.

                                            >Her panicked whinnying fills the air as she tries to buck, but you’ve got her held to your body. Her rear legs tense and try to move futilely against yours.

                                            >The first time had been an accident, but with communication you figured this to be a shared indulgence. Her pleasured screaming confirms it again as you feel your own rush from claiming her so thoroughly.

                                            >You can feel her pleasure as she peaks, rapidly winking and squeezing you while squirting her fluids.

                                            >You hold in place as she rides her orgasm for at least half a minute. Pride and happiness fill you along with your lust at what you’ve accomplished.

                                            >Relaxing your grip, you let her fall forward onto the soft sheets.

                                            >Giving her time to catch her breath, you reposition yourself over her as you flip her onto her back.

                                            >”Haaaah, oooooh, mmmmmm. That was-“

                                            >She now notices you’re still hard, throbbing with unmet need.

                                            >”Of course, you last forever. I hahhh-had almost forgotten.”

                                            >”Take me! I want you to feel good too!”

                                            >You press back in, joining yourself to her the human way. Face to face, sharing breath, looking into her eyes as your love meets hers.

                                            >She fills your entire world in that moment.

                                            >The intimate closeness hits your heart as much as your sex drive, quickly stimulating you in the best way.

                                            >She wraps her hooves around your neck and begins licking the outside of your lips.

                                            >You open your mouth and allow her entry, pressing your lips to hers as you fence each other with your tongues.


                                            >Hers scrapes over your sharp teeth repeatedly. Each time she does you feel her squeeze down on you.

                                            >The kiss sets you off and you thrust as deep as you can, pressing against her cervix, rope after rope of your seed splashing against that barrier.

                                            >Her body responds with another orgasm, squirting more of that wonderfully scented fluid where your bodies are joined.

                                            >As you collapse onto the bed next to her, you stay connected and keep looking into her deep eyes.

                                            >All your stress and worries have been erased leaving only you and your mare to enjoy the afterglow together.

                                            >Reaching your hand over you run your fingers through her navy mane, just enjoying touching her.

                                            >She leans forward to smooch the outside of your lips, following the action with three perfect little words.

                                            >”I love you.”

                                            >It’s simple, raw truth and it fills your heart with her pure voice.

                                            “I love you too, Rara.”

                                            >The smile that graces her face in response is so beautiful to you.

                                            >She leans her head over onto your chest, closing her eyes.

                                            >You understand her unspoken message and hold her body close, continuing to brush your hands through her hair as your mare lets her exhaustion take her to her dreams.

                                            >You try to stave off your own sleep as long as you can, admiring her in the golden light of the setting sun. She cares for you like you care for her and that is the most important thing in the world to you.

                                            >Reaching over, you grasp the sheets and pull them over the both of you. You plant a kiss on the snoozing pony’s head, one last act of love before her body heat pulls you under.