[AiE] Cuddling time with Celestia

>the day is ending and you're done with your 16-Tonnes grade work
>working for the Apples is hell on every muscle in your body, especially your brain
>but they pay you every last bit you earned and the hours end when they end
>no unpaid overtime for your ass
>the last basket of apples is inside the cellar and you come up
>Granny Smith pays you and you automatically thank her and mosey on along
>your brain is on auto-pilot at this point
>On the road to Ponyville you see Applejack, and her siblings returning home
>some event was going on where princess Celestia visits every village in Equestria to give them thanks for what the contribute to the country
>bla bla politics, nobody but the young and energetic care
>you give a nod and a grunt and pass them by
>to hell with politeness, you just want to go to your room in the attic and stare off into space with some wine before sleep claims you
>every pony in town seems to be gathered in the only named street in the entire village
>Sugar Cube Corner
>what about Boutique Boulevard
>Library Lane
>but these ponies are weird anyhow
>they fear-worship a ruler that shows nothing but kindness and understanding
>fuck it, you just move on, keep going through the crowd to your destination
>move away that pony, this one with the fuscia coat - you don't even know what fuscia is but fuck it your brain don't give a fuck
>just slide on through, making split second decisions of whether to give the ass or crotch to these crotch-high ponies
>just keep on moving, don't care who what or where, push this white thi--
>fuck
>it's only after everything's gone quiet that you notice you dun goofed
>that ain't no white thing, it's Celestia's neck
>her slender, soft, warm neck
>the contours of her sternocleidomastoid (yeah, you studied some medicine, what of it)
>you remove your hand before you can pop a boner and just keep on moving

>hell, you didn't even mean to, it was a leftover order in your brain
>well, she's forgiving, she'll understand, given how you look like Hell
>reeking of sweat won't help, but hey, even in the local jail you'll get the rest you want, so win-win
>as you leave the ponies start murmuring amongst themselves
>''did you see him touch the princess''
>''how crass, he didn't even look the Princess in the eyes''
>''was that a human boop or something?''
>''does he have the hot-to-trots for the Princess?''
>just keep walking, just keep walking
>Twilight might make a big deal out of this now or in the morning and you're actually curious as to how her Royal Paranoidness will blow it out of proportion
>but with the sound of murmurs and rumour there's another sound accompanying you in the night
>the thud of hooves behind you
>they're not naked hooves, they're too loud, too sharp
>they're dressed in some regal pony shoes
>your face is burning red so badly you feel the heat around your face contracted with the whipping night air from the sped up pace you just started
>the hoof steps increase in tempo as well
--Oh Jesus tap-dancing Christ--, you think, --What have I gotten myself into?--
>you move through the street and end up in a lone, unassuming little house near the edge of the village
>you enter inside, she does as well, and climb the staircase to the attic, to your little not-so-safe-anymore place
>the fold out couch is folded out with a sheet and a blanket ready and waiting
>the steps have stopped and she's most likely examining your man-cave while you take the cheap bottle of wine on the floor and fill up a glass with it to the top
>for her
>what little is left of the wine you take for yourself
>now you turn around and look at Celestia

>you offer the glass to Celestia which she picks up readily with her magic
>silence as she sips on the wine
>her expression is innocent
>like a young girl exploring a new city
>big eyes, small - yet lively - smile and erect, anxious ears
>thank god you don't have angina because HNNNNG
>she moves past you, lightly brushing her left wing and flank against your arm, and sits down on the couch with an audible fwomp and a creak of the springs
>oh yeah
>she's been at the cakes
>It's at that point that the thought hits you: you not only have a girl in your room
>but you have the ruler of an entire country in your room
>all because you touched her neck and ignored her all the way back home
>if you were anymore alpha, you'd go full circle and become the omega, which would make you God
>and even God is looking down on you and spitting phlegm in envy at you
>because does he have a cute princess in his crib
>I think not
>all he has is Mormons, and god knows how fun they are
>Celestia looks at you and smiles
>complete brain shutdown is in effect from that point on
>''I like your room, Anonymous'', she says, ''The simplicity is endearing. The craftsmanship in Canterlot castle is a sight to behold, but I've always preferred simplicity and calmness to overcompensating detail and ostentatiousness.''
''Yeah.''
>at least it was a word
>she just smiles on, like your tongue wasn't looking like a schizo's interpretation of Spaghetti Junction and functioning just as efficiently
>you see she pats the empty spot next to her with her hoof
>''Please, Anon, you are the host.''
>Take a swig from the bottle, wish it was something stronger, and follow orders
>when you sit, you feel how much Celestia's royal tush has dented your couch/matress
>it must be at a 60* angle
>just enough to give you an excuse to lean in on her
>if you weren't holding your spine muscles rigid in fear of doing just that
>for someone who acted so alpha not ten minutes ago, you're being profoundly gamma

>with that thought, a thousand caps of spaghetti spillage stories from /r9k/ flash through your mind
>then you try to emulate Celestia's would-be thoughts in the next five seconds
>most filled with questions of how wimpy this little human is after such a show of dominance
--Dude, no!-- You think --I am not going to puss out in front of the female (pony) of all females (of ponies).--
>your muscles slacken and you slide closer to Celestia
>maybe it's the alcohol, or the fact that the attic is a bit stuffy, but she's exceedingly warm
>and her cake-loving softness only makes it better
>it's like having the world's biggest stuffed toy that has the capacity to cuddle right back
>just as you think this, Celestia's wing shoots out and hugs you closer to her
>your face is pressed close into her neck and you can feel her mane magically float over you
>she doesn't smell like anything, really
>but by Mjolnir, sniffing her is intoxicating
>it's airborn peace
>she places her hoof softly on your thigh
>in return you put your left arm around her and gently caress her free wing, while your right hand finds a spot on the aforementioned hoof
>the bottle is forgotten, but she catches it before it can fall and puts in on the floor
>she takes another sip from her glass and brings it to you
>you can see the slight change in colour on the glass where she put her lips
>you take a sip as well
>cheap wine never tasted so good
>her coat hairs tickle your nose now, so you shift your head some
>she interprets this as a sign that you want to cuddle more intimately

>Celestia places her snout closer to the top of your head
>you instinctively look up and gaze into heaven
>her eyes are closed, her lips slightly parted and closing in
>now or never
>in that moment she and you are locked into the universal sign of romance and love
>her lips, though flat, are full and very soft
>her tongue explores your mouth and often dominates your own muscular limb, not that you're complaining
>not wanting to be the passive party you reach out with the once-leg covering hand and start gently rubbing her ear to which she moans lightly without releasing you
>you stop to gasp at some air and release yourself from her embrace
>you just played tonsil hockey with Princess Celestia and she's damn good
>as you ponder these facts Celestia takes off her regalia and lifts the covers
>no invitation is needed, you disrobe and enter the make-shift bed with her
>much like with her country, she leads this encounter
>she opens her forelegs wide and you snuggle closer
>she hugs you closer to herself and you can feel the easy rhythm of her heart
>cheeky girl, she didn't even get a slightly higher beat
>she was in control this entire time
>you look up, feeling insulted, you're no pet to be dominated
>but those lavender eyes hold such caring and love for you that you forget everything and bury yourself in her chest
>her royal cushiness, as it were
>she kisses the top of your head and you nuzzle against her
>sleep claims you both