Chapter Text
~ I ~
Starlo, despite being an early-riser in the mornings, tended to be rather grumpy when he first woke up. It was true when monsterkind was still trapped in the Underground, and the same was true now that everyone had been living on the Surface for about a year.
So when he shuffled into the kitchen that morning—half-dressed, shirt clinging to his chest in crumples, glasses missing—he wasn’t expecting anything unusual. He barely noticed you leaning against the counter, arms folded, lips painted a shade that could only be described as “eye-catching.”
“Mornin’,” he mumbled as he walked by.
“Morning,” You replied sweetly.
He nodded, opened the cupboard, pulled out the bag of coffee beans, and blinked at your reflection in the toaster.
Then he did a double take, slowly turning around to face you.
“You wearin’ lipstick?” He asked slowly, squinting at you.
“Mm-hm.”
He raised a brow. “Since when?”
“Since about five minutes ago.”
He furrowed his brow. “We got somewhere to be?”
“Nope.”
“…Ceremony? Birthday? Somethin’ else?”
“Nope. Just a test.”
Before he could respond and finish grinding the beans, you crossed the kitchen in three swift steps and kissed him, smack on his lips.
He made a startled noise in the back of his throat as his hands flailed uselessly for a moment. He managed to grip the edge of the counter, but failed to avoid looking like he’d been shot in the knees. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and just long enough to leave his brain rattling around in his skull like dice in a cup.
Then you pulled away.
Starlo blinked.
You then leaned in and began to inspect his mouth with clinical precision. “No smearing,” You muttered. “Somewhat even application. Minimal transfer… Nice. I’ll give it an 8/10, but only because the color is a little too bold for my tastes.”
Starlo stared at you incredulously, pulling his glasses from where they’d been tucked into his shirt pocket and putting them on. His voice emerged an octave higher than usual. “W-What… was that?”
“That, my lovely little lizard, is a controlled environment,” You replied, already scribbling in a tiny notebook. “No food or weather variables. Subject seems rather off-kilter.”
“Subject?”
“Don’t worry,” You smirked, winking at him. “You’re anonymous.”
“I’m the only person you kiss like that, and everyone knows it,” Starlo mumbled, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth.
You tilted your head. “What, are you complaining? Because I can totally ditch the experiment if you want.”
“No! No, I— I’m— I’m just—”
He made a soft noise and reached blindly for the coffee pot, opting to leave his words there. Even as lunch eventually arrived, he still hadn’t fully recovered.
You were sprawled across the couch reading when he wandered in from the back porch, hat pulled low, brow still knit in residual confusion. He looked at you in a way that gave your stomach butterflies.
“You kissed me,” he spoke, as if it had only just hit him.
“Uh, yeah?” You replied, eyes still focused on your book. “I’m your partner. I thought you were used to it.”
“I-I am, just not for— for whatever you were doin’ that for!”
“Research? Oh, yeah. I’m doing an experiment. Didn’t I tell you?”
Starlo huffed and sat down beside you, stiff and suspicious. “…You didn’t tell me what it was, though.”
“Lipstick durability,” You said plainly. “Surface product. I want to see which ones survive contact. I’ll be doing one each day.”
“And how many do ya got?”
“Four in total, I believe.”
Starlo perked up a little at that. “So… yer gonna be kissin’ me all week?”
“That’s the plan.”
A long silence, then...
“…Can we circle back to today’s one later?”
You raised a brow at him. “I thought you were flustered.”
“I am flustered! I just… liked the flusterin’. But only a little! Tough sheriff’s like me gotta keep up their reputation, y’know,” he grinned, unable to hide the faint color dusting his cheeks. He gave you a wink before stumbling out the door.
By the time evening arrived, Starlo had spent an entire day off balance.
He missed a nail while fixing the front step to Dina’s saloon. Knocked over a couple rolls of bandages in the hospital. Even forgot to wear his badge— he still couldn’t believe he forgot it— which earned him no fewer than four mocking salutes from Ed and Mooch.
“You okay, boss?” Ed asked gruffly. “Ya look like you’ve been spendin’ too much time in lala land.”
“I do not—!” Starlo started to bark, but stopped halfway through, sighing heavily.
Because it was that.
He couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss.
That night, as he climbed into bed beside you, he glanced over at you like he was bracing for impact.
“Y’gonna do that again?” He asked, voice low as his glowy white eyes watched you in the dark.
You turned toward him, shadows soft on their face as his dim glow illuminated you. “What, do you want me to?”
Starlo hesitated, grinning sheepishly. “I… maybe just a little.”
You leaned in, slow and gentle, and gave him one more kiss—just a little one, warm and lingering.
This time, he sighed happily, melting into your side.
Soft.
Content.
“Was that still part of the test?” He asked quietly.
“Nope,” you smiled. “That one was just for you.”
He curled into you like a monster who’d been waiting all day to fall apart.
And in the dark, you smiled as you wrapped your arms around him, cradling his warm body against your chest. You were already planning what tomorrow’s shade would be.
~ II ~
The next morning, Starlo woke up in a fog of blankets and warmth.
His first thought?
They kissed me again last night.
His second thought?
They’re gonna do it again today.
His third thought?
I am not ready for it, but Angel above, do I want it.
He found you at the bathroom mirror, already halfway through applying a soft, shimmery orange-pink to your lips.
Starlo stopped in the doorway. “So what’s this one, then?”
“ Sunset Shimmer ,” You replied cheerfully, blotting your lips with a tissue. “It’s got a satin finish and supposedly lasts through ‘light physical contact.’”
His rays twitched slightly. “Light?”
You turned toward him, examining him as if he were some sort of handsome test dummy. After looking him up and down just long enough to get him squirming a little, you murmured, “I’m thinking… neck.”
Starlo swore he felt his soul leave his body.
The day continued to pass by. You didn’t pounce right away. No… you waited.
You helped him make breakfast. Sat with him on the porch. Helped him clean out a supply unit for the Royal Guard (when did his job become so community service based? Although, you supposed it always had been, depending on how you looked at it).
Starlo, on the other hand—poor, doomed Starlo—kept glancing nervously over his shoulder as if he were being stalked by a large cat.
By midday, he’d gotten so twitchy he knocked over a whole bucket of water while at Sunnyside Farm.
“Jumpier than a jackalope,” You tsked, looming behind him. You walked over and rested your chin on his shoulder. “You okay?”
Starlo gave a shaky laugh. “I just— I know yer gonna do it, but I dunno know when . It’s makin’ me feel crazy.”
“Oh, sweet thing,” You murmured softly.
Then you kissed the side of his neck.
Gently.
Warm and slow, lips brushing over skin like a breeze. His scales were soft and warm, and he was trembling.
Starlo jolted and gasped like he’d been hit with a tranquilizer. His whole body stiffened; the bucket he’d just picked up slipped from his hands and clattered to the ground yet again.
“ Ghhhk —!”
You stepped back, admiring the faint pink print just below his bottom left ray. “Hm. Some smearing. Pretty minimal, though.”
He didn’t answer. He was too busy leaning on the fence for support, trying to remember how to breathe.
“That ain’t fair! I— I wasn’t ready!” He managed to stammer eventually, voice hoarse.
“That was kind of the point,” You said, scribbling a note.
Day Two: Sunset Shimmer. Slight neck transfer. Strong fluster response. Subject is dazed and trembling.
“I’m a grown monster,” Starlo whimpered. “And the sheriff! You can’t just sneak up and— and do that to me. That’s bandit behavior, darlin’. Yer bein’ sneaky.”
“But you like it,” You teased, nudging him gently with your hip.
He made a noise somewhere between a whine and a growl. “I like you . Everythin’ else is just— collateral damage, or somethin’.”
You leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “Then brace yourself for day three, sheriff. Because it’s only gonna get better from here.”
Starlo groaned like a man sentenced to blissful, unavoidable doom.
Later that afternoon, he ended up passing Mooch on patrol.
“You’ve got something on your neck,” Mooch chirped, eyeing the pink smudge.
Starlo clapped a hand over it, but it was already too late.
“Was it the same one as yesterday?” Mooch raised a brow, giggling. “Or are you two going through the whole makeup aisle?”
Starlo stared into the middle distance for a moment, then shut his eyes.
“…There’s a notebook and everythin’. I ain’t gettin’ any reprieve.”
“Ha! They’re charting your downfall, that’s what they’re doing!”
“And I’m letting them!” Starlo hissed back, chuckling somewhat deliriously . “I can’t tell what in tarnation is even wrong with me.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re in love. And it’s gross. ”
Starlo slumped against the nearest post, shaking his head slowly. “If that ain’t the truth…”
That night, after returning home, you and Starlo cuddled on the couch beneath a fleece blanket, a fire crackling in the hearth and the faint scent of that morning’s pink lipstick still clinging to Starlo’s skin. He still hadn’t gotten rid of the mark.
“Tomorrow’s a gloss, you know,” You murmured, running your fingers along his arm. You relished in the way he shivered a little.
Starlo shifted his head, then groaned into your shoulder. “I’m not gonna survive the next few days of this.”
“Don’t worry about it. You’re doing great.”
He clung to you a little tighter at that, his heart a little louder than he meant it to be.
And somewhere deep down, he hoped tomorrow’s one really smeared.
Just so you would have to try again.
~ III ~
Day three arrived with thunderclouds. The storm was still rolling in when Starlo opened the bathroom door and saw it.
Rainbow Dash.
Bright. Shiny. Reckless.
It was the lipstick equivalent of a dare, essentially.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, voice still gravelly from sleep.
You snickered, then smacked your lips together and gave him a smile that could melt highway paint. “Nothing life threatening has been observed.”
“Yet,” he shot back. “I dunno much about makeup, darlin’, but I do know that them glossy lipsticks don’t even pretend to stay put. You’re doin’ this one on purpose.”
You shrugged. “Every experiment needs an outlier.”
By the time breakfast arrived, Starlo was a disaster waiting to happen.
He was too aware. Too tense… much like yesterday, you supposed.
Every time you leaned toward him to grab something off the table, he flinched like he was about to be ambushed by affection.
“Everything alright, sheriff?” You asked innocently, sipping your tea in an idle manner.
“Just dandy,” he huffed, refusing to meet your eyes. “Just… bracin’ for impact.”
“Not yet,” You replied. “But soon.”
The storm then broke in the afternoon.
Rain hammered against the roof. Wind howled down the chimney. The power flickered just long enough to throw everything into soft gray.
Starlo was trying to light a lantern in the living room— preparing for the possibility of the power going out— when you snuck up behind him, quiet as shadow.
“Hey, Sheriff.”
He turned just in time to catch the bold, fiery kiss that hit him smack on the lips. All gloss and heat and mischievous intent.
It lasted all of three seconds, but it still knocked the lantern out of his hands.
“Wha—”
You held up a small mirror and turned it toward him.
His lips were absolutely coated in color.
You tilted your head. “Damn. Major transfer. Complete failure in durability. But extremely high satisfaction.”
Starlo opened and closed his mouth, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. He made a face. “I can taste it. Why do I taste like citrus?”
“Oh, hush. You look great,” You responded warmly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. He whimpered like a needy dog.
“You counted on this happenin’. Ya can’t fool me.”
“Obviously. I wanted to see if a full-gloss could be salvaged.”
“And…?”
You beamed. “It can’t. But you do make a very cute test subject.”
For the rest of the day, Starlo refused to wipe his mouth.
“Oh, so now you’re proud?” Ceroba said when she spotted the bright smudge during a walk around town.
“It ain’t pride,” Starlo mumbled, dazed. “It’s… preservation. That was… I dunno, but it was somethin’. I feel like I gotta honor it.”
“You’re blushing so hard that you’re glowing,” She said flatly. “Your rays are pulsing, Star.”
“I dunno what yer talkin’ about.”
Later that night, you and Starlo curled up in bed together once again. You ran your fingers along his scales as he lay there, half-melted and halfway to sleep.
“You didn’t even resist this one,” You whispered. “The kiss today, I mean.”
He huffed, then mumbled tiredly, “I really did. But yer so… and then the gloss… and the way ya always—ugh.”
“You liked it.”
“Don’t mean ya gotta say it out loud. ” He then nuzzled into your neck like he was trying to merge souls with you. “So what’s tomorrow?”
You grinned. “It’s a matte one called Rarity . It’s supposed to be kiss-proof for twelve hours.”
“Angel above...”
You couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
~ IV ~
It was still raining by morning.
Soft light pooled at the edges of the windows, soft and sleepy. Starlo wandered into the kitchen in a tank top that was slightly too big for him (industries across the nation were still having trouble adjusting their process for making clothing— they had all sorts of different bodies to make clothing for now, after all). It hung off one shoulder, and his tail swished as he padded out into the kitchen, still sleepy and disgruntled from waking up.
You were already at the table, finishing a cup of coffee and fiddling with the tube of lipstick. A cool, elegant violet matte. No shimmer. No gloss. Just quiet confidence and serious elegance.
You glanced up as he entered and smiled.
“Today’s formula is a bit of a challenge,” You said. “Twelve-hour matte. Full pigment. No transfer… supposedly, anyway.”
Starlo squinted at your mouth, then blushed slightly and looked away. “That’s, uh… that’s the kinda color that gets stuck in yer head, I guess.”
You raised a brow. “Is that a compliment or a complaint?”
“Not a complaint,” he mumbled, grabbing a piece of toast and stuffing it into his mouth. “That’s me mentally writin’ my will. But ya do— I mean it’s… ugh. Ya look good. You always look good.”
“Why thank you,” You smirked. “I knew what you meant the first time, though. I was just fishing for compliments.”
Starlo groaned.
This was gonna be a long day, and a long day it proved to be indeed.
By the time the afternoon rolled around, Starlo was suffering. You continued to keep up the trend from the last couple of days— tease him, then strike when he didn’t expect it. He had no way of knowing when it was coming.
You just existed in the same space as him, talking about your notes and plans for the week, all while casually, constantly wearing the lipstick as if it was nothing. And Starlo?
He fumbled his badge during his rounds. Forgot to finish sentences. Walked into a post at one point. Moray asked if he had a fever.
“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Just… thinkin’.”
“Thinking?” Moray echoed.
Starlo looked out toward the cloudy sky like he was contemplating the Angel, or God, or whatever. Humans were intense about religion, that was certainly something he’d picked up during his time on the Surface so far.
“Star…?” Moray asked again. Starlo stared at a cloud passing by.
“Lipstick.”
That told Moray everything they needed to know.
By evening, the tension in him was so taut it might snap.
He sat with you on the couch while rain tapped against the windows. The fire was low. You had a blanket over your lap and Starlo’s shoulder was brushing yours, just barely. At one point, you shifted and moved the blanket so that it was covering the both of you, and he snuggled into you without a word. You gave him a soft smile after feeling his tail curl around your leg.
He was quiet, but certainly not calm by any means. He was buzzing, barely holding himself together.
You eventually closed your notebook, slid it off the table, and turned to face him.
“You know,” You murmured, “You could just ask for it. That’s also part of the test today.”
His gaze slid over to yours. “For…?”
You gave him that look. The one that always made his markings glow just a little brighter. The one that made his pulse do stupid things.
“You want a kiss,” You murmured teasingly, slowly sliding a hand up his shoulder. “Don’t you?”
He swallowed hard, eyes flicking to your lips. “I always want a kiss.”
You smiled, then leaned in.
The kiss was soft. Intentional. It wasn’t totally teasing like day one or chaotic like day three—it was slow, full of warmth and certainty, like you were sure he’d melt for you.
(He did. He always did.)
You eventually pulled back only a few inches, just enough to breathe. Starlo’s mouth parted like he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the words, so you traced your thumb across his lip.
It was clean. No color at all, not even a light stain.
“It passes,” You announced, sounding almost disappointed. “But emotionally? I’d call that a total disaster.”
Starlo blinked at you, dazed. “You just rewired my brain, sugar.”
You kissed his cheek sweetly. “Good.”
~ V ~
The rain had stopped.
The world outside glistened with leftover stormlight, and the town looked almost clean for once. Soft gold spilled across the kitchen floor as Starlo leaned on the counter, a mug warming his clawed hands, his shoulders low and quiet.
He watched as you emerged from the bathroom.
You were dressed simply today. No gloss. No glam. Just a soft, natural color—barely there. The kind of lipstick that could almost be mistaken for nothing at all.
But he noticed. Of course he noticed.
“Yer goin’ subtle for the final day?” He asked, voice quieter than usual.
You glanced at him over your shoulder, slightly concerned. “You sound disappointed.”
He gave a soft, sad smile. “Guess I just thought there’d be… somethin’ dramatic for the finale. Not that this is bad by any means, I just… I dunno.”
“Mm. You’d rather I dipped myself in glitter and tackled you?”
“I wouldn’t stop ya.”
You laughed, but his didn’t come this time.
He looked down at his mug. “I know it was just an experiment and all, but… I liked this. Mornin’ surprises. Chasin’ you ‘round the house, tryin’ to guess what shade ya picked. You kissin’ me like it was a test that I kept failin’ on purpose.”
You were silent for a moment before letting out a half-laugh, half-sigh. “Star, it doesn’t have to end, you know.”
He looked up as you crossed the room and stopped in front of him, your eyes warm and understanding. “I don’t need to be wearing lipstick to have a reason to kiss you. I do that because I like to. And it’s funny to watch you get all flustered.”
He swallowed.
“I just—” His voice cracked as he glanced away, looking embarrassed. “I don’t get a lotta things that feel this good, y’know? And I don’t want it to go back to normal like— like nothin’ ever happened. Like I wasn’t… yours for five days straight.”
Your hand came up to cradle his cheek. He leaned into it instantly, helpless as ever. “You are mine,” You whispered. “That part never ends.”
He closed his eyes, and then you kissed him. It was soft, gentle, and tooth-rottingly affectionate. His breath hitched when you pulled back.
“That’s one,” You smirked.
His eyes fluttered open. “Yer countin’?”
“Mmhm. You only get more if you ask for them.”
He flushed, the markings on his rays pulsing and glowing softly. “What? C’mon, sweets, that’s mean.”
“You like it.”
He groaned, turning his head just enough to hide in your palm. He cracked open an eye again. “Ya want me to beg?”
“Only if you mean it.”
There was a long pause, then:
“…Please.”
Your thumb brushed his cheekbone. “Please what?”
He inhaled shakily. “Please kiss me again.”
Your mouth quirked up, but you stayed gentle. “How many times?”
He hesitated. “As many as you’ll give me.”
And so you kissed him again, and again, and again, each one deeper than the last. Hungrier, needier, until he was clinging to you like he was drowning and you were the one thing helping him stay afloat.
Until the lipstick was gone entirely and he didn’t care because this was never about the lipstick. Not really.
When you finally pulled away, he was breathless, eyes glassy, hands shaking just a little where they clung to your waist. He rested his forehead against yours and whispered, “Don’t ever stop wantin’ me like this. Please.”
You kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and deliberate. “Never could.”
He pulled you in again, desperate to make the moment stretch a little longer. Just because it was the end of the experiment didn’t mean it was the end of it all.
Besides, there was still time for him to give you a taste of your own medicine, wasn’t there?
~ +I ~
The house was too quiet.
After five days of playful testing, teasing pecks, and experimental notes, the silence had weight now—like something had ended. You sat on the edge of the couch, trying to focus, sorting through your lipstick tubes like you didn’t feel the ache of absence, the emptiness that came after indulgence.
You didn’t hear Starlo come in, but you still felt his presence. The shift in the air. The heat behind you. The quiet, shaky inhale just before he said—
“Been workin’ up the courage, but I think I deserve to have a bit of fun, too.”
You turned, startled, and barely had time to see the look in his eyes before he grabbed you and kissed you hard. Not slow, or soft, or anything of the sort. This was a crash, and it was needy and desperate and everything delightful.
Starlo’s hands were already in your hair, his mouth on yours like he’d gone starved for oxygen and only you could give it back. He pushed you back against the couch, crawling into your lap with the kind of desperation that couldn’t be faked—hot, breathless, all teeth and tongue and gasped words between kisses.
“I tried—” Kiss. “—I tried to be patient—” Another kiss. “—But you keep— fuck , sweetheart—”
You clutched at his waist, tugging him closer, your own head spinning. He kissed you as if it hurt to stop, like if he did, he’d fall apart completely. And somewhere in the middle of it—when your lips were wet and parted and their breathing synced in ragged gasps—you realized that he wasn’t the only one undone.
It was easy to forget sometimes with how much you teased him. It was easy to forget that you were just as terribly down bad as he was for you. You allowed your eyes to flutter shut.
He ground himself against you just barely, like he couldn’t help it. Your hands flew to his hips, steadying him, feeling him.
“Look at you,” he whispered against your mouth, voice cracking. “Always makin’ me beg. Always teasin’ me like there ain’t gonna be consequences.”
Yet another kiss. Deeper, messier, open-mouthed and hungry.
“You gonna beg for me now?”
You tried to answer, to spit out some sly remark, but your voice didn’t work—just a choked sound, barely a syllable was what passed your lips.
He smiled into the kiss. “Good.”
He kissed you again, and again, and again, the kind of kissing that left you both gasping, lips swollen, fingers clinging, limbs tangled, heat buzzing between every breath. You pulled him in like you needed him inside your lungs, and Starlo melted into you like he belonged there.
It wasn’t just lust.
For the both of you, it was everything.
Weeks of built-up tension. Five days of being held back. Every kiss you hadn’t shared. Every word you hadn’t dared to say.
When you finally broke apart, you were both panting, flushed, and ruined.
Starlo leaned his forehead against yours, chest heaving.
“I’ve been yours this whole time,” he whispered. “Now I just want you to know that the opposite is true.”
Your thumb traced the edge of his mouth, and he kissed it without thinking.
You swallowed, then pulled him back in, because lipstick didn’t matter anymore.
Only this did.
Only him.