Unprofessional

Things that go bump in the night

Spitfire groaned and twisted around, her wings tangling up in the blankets covering her. Drifting in and out, she twisted around, trying to get back to deep sleep with no success. Scooting backwards, her eyes went wide as something warm and fuzzy brushed against her; she felt a hot breath against the nape of her neck accompanied by a slight snoring. Without looking at him, Spitfire pulled one of Soarin’s forelegs around her and relaxed in the simple feeling of him holding her. His body reacting instinctively to the touch, Soarin pulled her closer in his sleep, burrowing his muzzle deep into her mane, no doubt taking in her scent.

Spitfire smiled as she glanced around the room, the memories of their afternoon together washing over her, making her giggle softly. Inhaling deep through her nostrils, Spitfire stifled a cough; the smell of musk still clung to the air, probably having gotten to the point where it’d get stuck in the walls, though Spitfire couldn’t bring herself to care. Instead she moved her hindquarters close to his, brushing the base of her tail against Soarin’s nethers. Soarin groaned in his sleep and ground his hips against hers, pulling her closer with his hooves until Spitfire was locked in a loving embrace. Snickering, Spitfire held one of his hooves and brushed her muzzle over it, the coarse fur tickling her snout as she did.

She glanced around the room again, the moonlight streaming in through the window bathing everything in a soothing blue light. The corners where the light didn’t reach were covered in perpetual darkness. A shiver traveled down her spine and she gulped, wanting to pull away and not have to look at it. It frightened her. It wasn’t something she’d be willing to admit, especially not to anypony who knew her personally, but something about the dark scared her. Watching it, she felt like she stood on the edge of a mighty abyss, an endless darkness threatening to swallow her up if she got to close, and just like that all her fierce courage vanished, leaving behind a frightened filly where once there had been a mare.

She forced her eyes shut and buried her face into the blankets, not wanting to look at it any longer. Rolling around and causing Soarin to groan, she buried herself into his chest, pressing her head against it, listening to his soft breathing and heartbeat. Gradually her shivers died down as the warmth of the blankets and Soarin’s body washed over her, forming a protective aura around her that she knew couldn’t be broken. Her eyelids slowly grew heavy again as she watched the sleeping stallion holding her, his face completely calm as he twisted a little, moving a hoof up her neck and head, coming to a stop at her ear. His hoof weighed a little on her face as he slowly began moving the tip over her ear, flapping and tugging at it. Spitfire smiled and looked tiredly at her lover, for a moment picturing him as a little colt cuddling up with his mother as he kept playing with her ear.

Pulling the blanket over both of them, Spitfire curled up best she could next to Soarin without breaking the embrace. Her vision blurred, making her blink several times. Despite her wanting nothing more than to fall asleep, something within her was holding her back. Every time she drifted off she forced her eyes open once again, a bad feeling washing over her that she couldn’t explain. She carefully lifted Soarin’s hoof off of her face, shivering as the air made contact with the spot where he’d been, and rolled over on her back, staring at the ceiling through half closed eyes. Beside her, Soarin twisted and shifted in his sleep, rubbing his hoof over her stomach and pressing down on it, though she hardly noticed him. Her eyes focused on the cloud above her, the moonlight coming in from the window bathing her upper body in its light. Spitfire lifted a hoof towards the ceiling, drawing an invisible circle in the air as Soarin’s breathing caused the fur on her chest to move back and forth.

Something just wasn’t right about the situation, though Spitfire couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out what it was. She wasn’t sad, that much she knew, in fact these last few days had turned out better than she’d thought they would, and yet something about lying in bed with Soarin like this made a knot form in her stomach. Spitfire shook her head violently, electing another groan from Soarin. This just wasn’t working, but she wasn’t about to lose a whole night’s sleep over it, whatever was plaguing her could wait until morning. Sliding back into Soarin’s embrace, she tried closing her eyes and force herself to sleep. But as she did, Soarin once again pressed his hooves against her stomach and squeezed her tightly, causing an all too familiar pressure to build in Spitfire’s nethers.

“Oh great, guess that one can’t wait ‘til morning,” Spitfire mumbled, making her way out of bed.

*** *** ***

Stepping out into the darkened hallway, Spitfire shrugged, her feathers rustled. The whole house lay in almost complete darkness, pierced only by the strong moonlight coming in from the large windows, creating a sharp contrast between light and dark. She couldn’t hear any sounds, no ticking of clocks or dripping of water; just a deafening silence throughout the entire house, broken only by the puffy sound of her hooves against the cloud floors. The moonlight intensified a bit, lighting up the hallway before her. Spitfire sighed in relief, her fear of the dark slowly diminishing. At least now she could see where she was going. She mentally facehoofed over not having just awoken Soarin and asked where the bathroom was, but yet again her stubbornness and pride had gotten the better of her, and she wasn’t about to go back up and admit defeat. Besides, the house wasn’t that big, surely finding the bathroom would be a piece of cake. But she’d have to find it fast. Now that she was actually aware of her predicament, Spitfire forced herself to cross her back legs constantly, holding back the urge. Sure, she could’ve just gone then and there, then replaced the cloud floor with some fresh ones from outside, but that was out of the question. She wasn’t about to let her own body win over her like that, she wasn’t a foal anymore, and she gave herself a little smack on the cheek for even considering it.

Steeling herself, Spitfire made her way towards the living room, passing quickly through the dark areas, eyes constantly twitching and looking, making sure everything was okay. As she made her way into the large room she relaxed a bit, her body becoming bathed in Luna’s moonlight. A small but noticeable rush made its way throughout her body, her fears suddenly seeming a little less fearsome, as if the moon was powering her up and bolstering her courage. Spitfire smiled up at the lunar body and gave it a wink.

“Thank’s, Luna, I needed that,” Spitfire said silently, before crossing her hind legs again, her entire backside clenching up, “Now if you’ll excuse me…” she added, quickly trotting towards the door, praying to the princesses that there’d be a bathroom somewhere there. For a moment she contemplated going in the yard behind the house, but once again she shook the thought out of her head.

She entered the hall practically tap-dancing, sweat running down her forehead as her eyes darted around. She bit her lip. The hallway wasn’t as well lit, only a small stream of light coming in from a circular window on the door. Eyes darting around madly she finally spotted a door with a small heart-shaped sign hanging from it. Praying to Celestia that it wasn’t just a broom closet, Spitfire almost sent the door flying off its hinges as she entered and turned on the light. She was met by the sight of a shower, a sink, and in the corner, thankfully, the porcelain throne she so desperately sought. Not wasting a nanosecond, Spitfire plonked her ass down on the cold surface, a shiver running up her spine as she did, her mouth forming like an “O”, her back hairs standing on high end. She didn’t dwell on it though, as nature took its course, the pressure in her stomach finally diminishing as she let herself go.

Her tongue rolled out of her mouth as a satisfied smile spread across her lips, her mane a complete mess as she leaned backwards against the cold porcelain. If there was anything that could almost top an orgasm, this was it, and Spitfire was willing to bet bits that any other pony would agree. Panting heavily, she strained her body a little, forcing her stream to increase in power, creating a powerful sloshing sound below her.

Her stream died down after roughly thirty seconds, making Spitfire close her eyes and sigh heavily. She panted heavily and glanced up at the ceiling, her eyes closing halfway as a newfound sleepiness washed over her. Having finally gotten rid of her nightly torment, Spitfire could think of nothing better than curling up next to her stallion and fall asleep in his hooves. With a yawn she jumped of the seat and flushed, then headed for the sink. Turning the water on, she started washing her hooves. She caught a look of herself in the mirror and snickered at the sight of her frazzled mane. In her sleepy state she’d neglected to dry her hooves, and now, leaning against the sink, one of them slipped against the porcelain. Her head crashed forward right into the mirror, shaking the cabinet it was attached to. Spitfire yelped, rubbing her forehead and wincing angrily.

“Dammit, good going there, Spitfire, now you probably cracked the fucking glass too,” she swore to herself as she looked at her hoof. No blood, luckily enough, but looking at herself in the mirror she noticed a small blue spot starting to form. The mirror itself was virtually undamaged, aside from a very small crack in the glass that Spitfire barely noticed. While the outside looked fine, Spitfire still worried about the inside. She’d bumped the cabinet pretty hard, making her afraid that maybe she’d done some damage to the insides. She opened the cabinet, the mirror swinging outwards. Normally she wouldn’t dare going through somepony’s private stuff like this, but opening the cabinet she suddenly found herself under minor assault of said items. Bottles, small containers and an assortment of knick-knacks fell out of the cabinet, causing Spitfire to stumble and fall back on her haunches, though being that the floor was still made of cloud, she didn’t hurt herself. The last thing to fall out was a small orange bottle with a white lid that hit Spitfire right between the eyes.

“Great, now you probably woke up the whole neighborhood,” Spitfire groaned as she got up. Knowing she couldn’t leave this mess behind she started picking up the scattered items, putting them back in the cabinet. She knew she’d probably have to explain to Soarin what happened once he noticed his organization had been disturbed, but she trusted he wouldn’t linger on it. And if he did, there was always the option of just lifting her tail for him and he’d forget all about it.

It didn’t take her long to stuff the items back into the cabinet, and the only thing finally remaining was the little bottle that hit her in the head. Picking it up, Spitfire swallowed a little, a feeling of unease slipped back into her mind and a knot formed in her stomach once again. Holding it against the light, Spitfire noticed a small assortment of pills inside the bottle. Her unease grew as she, against her better judgment, opened it. Spitfire looked down at several blue capsules that looked almost like candy, although she knew all too well they weren’t. Swallowing again, she looked over the bottle, trying to find some kind of label, but to no avail. Either there was none, or Soarin had peeled it off.

“Alright, Spitfire, calm down, for all you know he might just have a stomach problem or something,” Spitfire said to herself, taking deep breaths and putting the lid back on. She put the bottle back among the others and turned to leave, only to glance back. Biting her lip hard, she opened the cabinet again; the bottle of pills stared back at her, almost like it was taunting her. This wasn’t good. Mentally beating herself over the head for it, Spitfire grabbed the bottle again and took out one of the pills, stuffing it into her mane. She then put the bottle back into its place. She didn’t feel good about herself for doing this; but she was hoping and praying that her fears were unjustified, and that the pills were completely harmless.

Then again, there weren’t any guarantees to that, for all she knew Soarin was getting pumped up behind her back... No! She violently shook her head, not wanting to think about it. She didn’t want to even consider such a thing, especially about him. Things had gone so well up to this point, and Spitfire wasn’t going to let her fears get the better of her again. Swallowing hard and taking a few deep breaths, Spitfire closed the cabinet, taking one last look at herself in the mirror. It was nothing, she told herself, forming the words silently on her lips. She said it, but part of her still wouldn’t believe it, and she made a mental note to herself to check the pill against the medical records just to be on the safe side.

Swallowing hard once more she turned off the lights and closed the bathroom door, leaving her once again in the darkness. And this time it felt worse. A lot worse. The trek back through the house suddenly became a long hallway shrouded in darkness.

Making her way through the house once more, the weight of what she’d just done came down on her hard, making her stop several times and glance backwards. She really wanted to go and put the pill back with the others, but knowing herself, she wasn’t about to let that happen. This wasn’t just about them being lovers anymore, much to her dismay. As a captain of the Wonderbolts she needed to know if one of her team members were clean. The Wonderbolts weren’t exclusive to Cloudsdale, having divisions spread out all over Equestria, and held a good reputation of being the best. That meant no fixers or steroids, just good honest training, and Spitfire would rather give up her power of flight than to see the organization’s name tainted by a doped up flyer. Especially if said doped up flyer also happened to be the stallion she loved.

Shaking her head free of bad thoughts, Spitfire made her way back upstairs after what seemed like an eternity and quietly entered the bedroom. Soarin still slept like a log, having rolled over in his sleep and ended up in Spitfire’s spot. He’d managed to kick off the blanket and was squirming in place, trying to get warm. Spitfire smiled and grabbed the blanket in her teeth, pulling it over him, before slipping under it along with him, embracing his powerful form.

For a moment she just lay there, feeling his chest move up and down, nice and easy. At that moment in time she was willing to forget her fears and just enjoy herself, not caring about her little discovery in the bathroom, and just take in the fact that she finally had somepony in her life who wasn’t going to leave the next morning. She buried her muzzle into his mane, the soft hairs brushing over her snout and a faint smell of apples penetrating her nostrils. Her eyelids started growing heavy again despite the moonlight still shining through the window, her vision becoming blurred as sleepiness washed over her like a warm blanket. Before sleep took her completely, Spitfire leaned over Soarin’s sleeping face and lightly pecked his cheek. It didn’t matter what problems he might have, for that moment in time, Spitfire settled for just having him, nothing more, nothing less. Barely able to keep them open anymore, Spitfire closed her eyes, allowing the darkness to take her.

“ZZZZ….”

Spitfire’s eyes shot open.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Soarin.”