Equestrian Invasion


                                            >Monday afternoon was usually quiet, even during the evening in your shift.

                                            >When you work in a bar famous for its drink and many unique guests you relish the slow business hours. It gives you time to organize drinks, glasswares, and to generally appreciate the liquor collection you get to play with.

                                            >You usually get some high level customers sometimes. Be it diplomats, ambassadors, generals, and the occasional small time royalties. Though the bulk of your customers are from the elite part of societies, the sort that would refuse to admit they knew Jeffrey Epstein

                                            >Today was rather different, your shift happened to come with the entire bar reserved. For whom, you weren’t told. The only answer from your boss was “it’s a surprise”

                                            >So for now, before the rush would start you start brushing up on some languages that might come up. Be it spanish, german, or chingchang. Either way you were worried. The last time you were told it was a “surprise” you served an anteater

                                            >A fucking anteater

                                            >Maybe it’ll be komodo dragon this time who knows

                                            >The bell chimed as the door was opened. There, you saw a woman with slicked back hair with a badge shaped of a thunder with wings pinned to her coat collar.

                                            >And… actual wings. Fucking honest to god wings that matched her hair color.

                                            “What the fuck.”

                                            >The woman took off her visor, staring directly at you with a smug smirk.

                                            >“See something you like?”

                                            >Now, you were proud of your professionalism. One does not simply work in a bar like this without racking up some experience, but professionalism be damned, you needed to know.

                                            “Sorry ma’am. I couldn’t help but to look at your uh… wings. Are they real?”

                                            >She smirked smugly then the wings slowly unfurled and moved so naturally. You couldn’t help but not to keep your eyes on them.

                                            >“As real as it gets, hun. Names’s Spitfire, Captain Spitfire.”

                                            >Even now you couldn’t tell if she was LARPing or you were tripping off your balls and this was some hallucinations

                                            “Pardon me for asking, but what country are you from?”

                                            >“Equestria, 1st Combat Wing, the one and only Wonderbolts.”

                                            “Equestria… oh right. That makes sense, I’ve been hearing about you guys. I’m guessing your friends reserved this place?”

                                            >She nodded. “I heard this bar was famous with cute bartenders so chose to party here today. Bureaucracy can be a dull business and us Equestrians like to…” She locked her eyes on yours firmly, unbreaking. “Blow off steam.”

                                            >You damned your professionalism once, you weren’t going to do it again.

                                            “I see. Until your friends arrive, how about some drinks? Are you familiar with earth’s liquor?”

                                            >She shrugged. “I’ll take something with a good burn. The strongest if possible.”

                                            “Easy enough.”

                                            >Behind the counter you grab the bottle of absinth then pour in the usual glass.

                                            >“C’mon hun, I’m a woman. I don’t need some handicap stuff. Give it to me straight,”

                                            “Are you sure? This is some strong-”

                                            >There was an annoyed frown twisting her lips and narrowing her eyes. A look of someone that did not appreciate having their tempered bravado tested in fear of revealing their fragile mettle. >“I said I can handle it. It’s not a man’s place to question a woman, got it?”

                                            “Uh… right. Silly me.”

                                            >“Good boy. Honestly, I can’t believe they let men here go off about by themselves.”

                                            >There was no hesitation in her movement. With one swift motion Spitfire swallowed the damn thing in one. You weren’t sure if she even had a meal before drinking either. Idiots like her were the reason why you kept bottles of water. Oh boy. This is just like when those Hollywood assholes showed up. Then again all hollywood people are assholes.

                                            >You place the bottle of water on the counter, this gets you a hell of a glare from her.

                                            >“What… you think I can’t *hick* handle my drink?”

                                            “That was really strong stuff, miss. Seriously this thing can kill you if you’re not careful. This is for just in case. I’m not doubting you.”

                                            >“Hmph. Do you cook?”

                                            “Uh… yeah? It’s part of the job though it’s rare.”

                                            >“Maybe there is hope for human men after all. Sweet Celestia, is it getting hot in here or what?”

                                            >Before you could say anything she stripped herself of the coats, then unbuttoned her shirt.

                                            >You were supposed to stop her.

                                            >The unblemished canvas that was her skin was flushed with red. As all painting deserved you gave your undivided attention. To her sunset eyes, pink lips, curved neck, and bountiful chest, all enraptured you.

                                            “Miss you shouldn’t…”

                                            >Most drunkards moved like a dying dog, stumbling and falling. Spitfire moved slowly true, but each of her movements teased a sweeter view. Her body dulled by the alcohol made her movement sluggish yet so enticing to watch. Each button undone, the heavy breath, and the fabrics teasing broke your professionalism you pride yourself in with one blow.

                                            “Undress…”

                                            >“See something you like hun?” She asked knowing damn well that you did.

                                            >The intoxicating bourbon eyes locked with yours, then she smiled. A teasing grin that knew how much of a fool you made yourself look like.

                                            >Spitfire leaned close to the bar, so close that your nose was millimeters away from your nose.

                                            >“When Princess Cadance told me about these soulmate things I was about to laugh my ass off. Truth is, I was really nervous meeting you, Anonymous.”

                                            >Hold up

                                            “How did you-”

                                            >“Shh…”

                                            >Her thin finger rested on your lips, it smelled of cinnamon and spice.

                                            >“We can work out the details later.”

                                            >She grabbed your tie then yanked it toward her, following with a kiss. Her lips were soft, faint with the taste of absinth still lingering. It didn’t take long before you fell into a ravenous pit of arousal. Tongues were intertwined while her arms wrapped your back and your hands feeling her sunlit hair.

                                            “Wait.” You break out of the kiss. “The rest of the customers, you reserved this place didn’t you?”

                                            >“I did, and told them the meeting time was three hours ahead.”

                                            “What?”

                                            >Spitfire vaulted over the counter then sauntered over to you. You flinched when her hand slithered between your skin and pants.

                                            >“Don’t question it too much. All you need to know is that you’re mine now.”

                                            “Y-yes ma’am.”

                                            >“Atta colt.”

                                            >There were questions sure but…

                                            >Who were you to question your Captain?