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Depending on the level of sweetness, the first bite of an apple can be extremely pleasurable.
There are many factors to be taken into account when taking that first bite. The freshness of the fruit in question, the crispness of the apple’s skin. The level of juiciness of the perfect apple, drawing forth the mouthwatering urge to bite down and partake of the succulent treat. Each apple emanates an almost vivid scent in itself, which only serves to further enthuse the taste buds into participating in the joyous event of devouring it.
In short, the anticipation leading up to that first bite is as equally important as the apple itself.
With Soarin staring over him, Braeburn had never felt quite so much like an edible delicacy.
“Just quit lookin’ at me like that,” Braeburn flushed, Soarin’s grin only growing. “It’s creepin’ me out.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Soarin slid the bedroom shades closed with a sly smirk, and brushed a lock of cobalt mane from his eyes. “Now, are you going to hurry up, or do I have to do it for you?”
Braeburn blushed a little deeper, and continued struggling with the yellow striped socks.
This was obviously such a bad idea.
He regretted ever letting the mischievous pegasus into the house, knowing full well his intentions.
Especially trying to meet up with Soarin while the majority of the Apple family was out and about – so much for watching Applebloom for her sister like a reliable cousin. If any of them were to find out just what he had slipped away for…
“I, uh…” Braeburn coughed uneasily, holding up a hoof to display the stuck sock. “… Might need a little help with these.”
Soarin snorted, and chuckled loudly.
“Shh!” the cowpony huddled beneath his hat quickly. “You’ll wake up the young ‘un!”
“Oh, please,” the pegasus rolled his eyes and ruffled his wings, motioning for Braeburn to lift his hoof a little. “I’m like a friggin’ shadow.”
Braeburn tried to reply, only to be cut off by Soarin’s lips. His tongue slithered over his own, and Braeburn shivered with anticipation as the socks he had fought for so long with were slowly but surely removed.
“A really, really horny shadow,” Soarin snickered, his wings extending a bit more.
“I just got that on…” Braeburn sighed sadly, but quieted himself when Soarin took to removing the other article of clothing. He sat on the edge of the bed silently, biting his lip as the pegasus gently tugged away at the other sock with his teeth. Soarin’s eyes were locked onto his the entire time, his grin widening as the heat in Braeburn’s face seemed to spread through his chest and… further down…
“Jumping a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t ya?” Soarin asked, his eyebrow not the only thing raising.
“Q-quit teasin’ me,” Braeburn turned his head in embarrassment. However, it was far too late to hide anything; then again, he probably wouldn’t have, anyway.
“Bah,” Braeburn’s coltfriend prodded his member with his muzzle, nuzzling it hotly so that it rose a little higher. “I’m starting to think that you hate fun, or something.”
“That ain’t it, and you know it,” Braeburn mumbled sheepishly, using his hooves to keep himself still as Soarin’s steamy breath rose and fell across his erect stallionhood. He tried to keep himself focused by speaking, but his hooves were still trembling. “We just gotta hurry before Applebloom wakes up…!”
“Slow down, cowpoke,” Soarin gently pushed him in the chest with one hoof until he began to fall back against the bed. “No need to rush to the finish line without enjoying the race!”
Braeburn grumbled back, but again silenced himself when he felt Soarin’s lips tenderly touch the end of him. His touch was so hot that Braeburn could have sworn that the heat blossoming off of him was about to light the tip of his candle.
It took Braeburn a few seconds to realize that even his breath was shaky, and he tried to get a proper grip on himself. He just had to stay focused, that was all…
He couldn’t help but let out a pleased little moan as Soarin’s heavy tongue rolled down his piston, expertly wrapping around the base and steadily working its way back up to the top. Braeburn sighed in satisfaction, letting his head fall back and using his hooves to keep his back off the bed.
“Ah! Didn’t you just – whoo! – say to take it slow?” Braeburn whispered loudly, quivering with excitement.
Soarin released his love muscle with a little pop! and grinned, a single sliver of saliva dripping off his chin.
“Oh, hey. Yeah, I did,” Soarin chortled, wiping his jaw. His azure wings were spread stiffly to his sides, twitching in time to his breathing. “Can you really blame me for getting a little carried away?”
“Yes.”
Soarin snorted again, fluidly hopping onto the bed as well. Braeburn blushed deeply when he saw the dangling meat flute bobbing right over his face, accompanied by a pair of healthy meat spheres. His breath caught in his chest at the sight, the strong scent of Soarin’s knob penetrating him to the core and making his every hair stand a little straighter on end.
It had been a long time…
Braeburn’s cheeks seared with heat, and his head hit the bed with an unexpectedly loud but delighted squeal as Soarin’s tongue tickled his tip. He huffed and panted, struggling to hold himself back as Soarin skillfully tugged at his throbbing stump with his lips. Hungrily, Braeburn sucked the pegasus’s tool into his own mouth, his contented moan muffled by hot flesh.
Soarin’s was always bigger than his, but Braeburn could live with that. The long, speckled stick was already hard, and Braeburn resisted the urge to gag as it jabbed the back of his throat when he pulled it down too quickly.
Soarin hissed in pleasure, his hips gyrating above him slowly.
“Easy, pardner,” Soarin said breathily. “I can’t hold on if you do that.”
Meaning that Braeburn had practically just been giftwrapped a way to ensure that Soarin would pick up the pace a little…
Of course, by this point, Braeburn was seriously considering throwing abandon to the wind and taking things as slowly paced as the pegasus was trying to do.
Braeburn sucked a bit harder, allowing the heavy head entrance all the way to the back of his throat, where he held it and eagerly draped his lips over Soarin’s base. The pegasus shook suddenly, letting out a little cry the harder that Braeburn tugged at him. Of course, there was a point when he had to stop, if only to breathe – but Braeburn didn’t stop for long, enthusiastically slurping away at the rod and nodding his head in time to Soarin’s shuddering thrusts.
“Hang on, hang on, hang on!” Soarin jerked himself from the disappointed stallion’s mouth quickly, sliding off of him. His breathing was labored, and Braeburn could see that his wings were clamped tightly to his sides as he strained to keep from losing control.
“You can’t be tellin’ me you’re almost done,” Braeburn teased him, momentarily wondering where his hat had fallen to. Besides, it was nice to not be the one to finish first for once.
“Pfft. Please,” Soarin rolled his eyes, letting out a jittery laugh. “You’ll know when we’re done for today.”
“And we’ll never get there if’n you don’t pick it up a little,” Braeburn urged him on, tantalizingly slipping a little further up the bed and spreading his legs. He lifted up one of the striped socks with one hoof, gnawing his bottom lip in expectancy and cocking an eyebrow.
“But I’m impatient,” the pegasus shook his head, internally surrendering. He swooped in swiftly, hooves slapping to either side of Braeburn. The cowpony had difficulty biting back a gasp when he did so, anticipating and eager for Soarin to pump himself inside his stretched cavern…
However, Soarin softly tucked his lip between his own, kissing him affectionately and slowly working his way down his neck. A bit surprised, Braeburn quivered and gripped him around the midriff. Soarin’s wings were once again extending to their full length, pulsing heatedly; just as Braeburn felt the bouncing member doing right against his entrance, exciting him further.
He lost himself in Soarin’s embrace, and was eventually placed upon the larger stallion’s hips when Soarin lay on his back. He stared down at the pegasus, sloppy grin plain on his features.
“You ready?” Soarin’s smile matched his own, and Braeburn gulped loudly before nodding furiously.
The hard, inflated tip pushed ever so slowly against him, and Braeburn breathed with a jitter. His own painfully throbbing meter long king Kong dong rebounding repeatedly off of Soarin. The pegasus rustled with need, Soarin’s length swiftly penetrating him. Braeburn began flushing again, slowly closing his eyes when the dirty sounds of Soarin’s enthusiastically slapping flesh meeting his own filled his ears.
Soarin gradually pulled Braeburn further down atop him, until he was turning and grinding with equal passion.
Braeburn tried to hold back the flood; he honestly did.
For about half a minute.
After that, Braeburn was panting loudly and moaning right along with Soarin, happily driving onto his hips as the beef stick plunged into him wetly over and over. Harder and faster, Braeburn’s muscles tensing and burning as he began to shout with ecstasy.
Thinking quickly, Soarin stuffed a hoof into Braeburn’s mouth to stifle his exclamation upon ejaculation. He stiffened quaveringly on the pegasus, ecstatically slavering and licking his hoof while staring hard into the distance.
“Well, what do you know,” Soarin nickered, kissing Braeburn again. “Guess you can still beat me in a race, after all.”
“You gonna cross the finish line today, fella?” Braeburn beamed weakly, moaning again when Soarin thrust into him even harder than before.
“Does that answer your question?” Soarin grinned, enjoying just how much he was making the cowpony gasp and wriggle.
“Yea~ah~ah!” Braeburn whistled through his teeth, stiffening up again sooner than he expected. Soarin had endurance, he’d give him that much. “Come – come on,” he begged. “Give it to me…!”
“Maybe if you let me hear the magic words again,” Soarin badgered him playfully, pulling at his lip again in time to his powerful paced lunges. "Just one more time?"
“P-please fuck me, mister Wonderbolt!” Braeburn pleaded, panting in pleasure as he dribbled even more onto the pegasus. “Stuff m-my little h-hole with everything you’ve got!”
“Not quite the magic words I was looking for,” Soarin admitted cheekily, making Braeburn turn an even brighter color of red than before.
Braeburn sighed as he slipped as far onto the pegasus as he could, wiggling in satisfaction as he came again. He nestled his muzzle against Soarin’s own, his breathing heavy and labored.
“… I love you, Soarin.”
“Abracadabra!” the pegasus lit up, his schlong suddenly jamming even further into him. Braeburn inhaled sharply, his eyes widening as Soarin positively exploded inside him. The pegasus gripped him hard, pumping like a soaking, sloppy steam engine into his tight passage.
Soarin eventually allowed his stallionhood to slip messily from Braeburn’s hole, dripping lewdly.
Braeburn snuggled comfortably on Soarin’s chest, too tired to continue.
For a while, they both simply listened contentedly to the other’s breathing, comfortable in the grasp of another.
Braeburn shifted eventually, the niggling feeling that he had forgotten something important pestering the back of his mind. Noticing him moving, Soarin tiredly shuffled up as well.
“I don’t know about you,” Soarin croaked cheerfully. “But if I’m going to be leaving that much liquid in ya, I’ve got to get a little back into my own system.” He chuckled. “You thirsty, too?”
Braeburn only nodded as Soarin started toward the door, and stretched lazily. He’d have to see about cleaning up the unexpectedly large… ‘mess’ that they had made, and pretty soon. At least, some time before –
Applebloom stood in shock with her hoof poised to knock on the guest room’s door, the stunned pegasus gawking back at her the moment he pried open the door.
“Ohhhh, yeah.” Soarin breathed feebly. “We’re definitely done for today.”
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Author's Note
So, just realized that I've never written M/M, and decided to rectumfy - I mean, uh, RECTIFY that.
