Nights Of Love

Greater Love Hath No One

"If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I."
—Michel de Montaigne

~

While the sun began to set against their backs, Citrus Blossom and Braeburn settled into their train cab. Cozy and small, it was comprised of two booths with a table in between, along with a small bunk bed. Rays of fading sunlight shined through the window beside the bunks, warming the tiny room in spite of the growing night.

Though the two were far from alone on the train, the frosted-glass door muffled the continuing clamorous celebration surely taking place all around them. Many of their friends from Appleloosa and beyond had attended the wedding as well. Bottles of cider and whiskey were surely being passed around and stories shared as the wheels churned them back towards the heart of the west.

Nevertheless, as Citrus Blossom sat in the cab next to her stallion and rested her head on his shoulder, the couple might as well have had the entire train to themselves.

Braeburn chuckled as Citrus leaned into him, curling a forehoof around her waist and pulling her close. “Tired already?”

“Mmm… Not really.” Tapping her forehoof playfully against the silver star pinned to his vest, Citrus added with a smirk, “But did you really need to change back before we came home?”

“Says the mare who packed up her own dress as soon as we said we were gonna leave,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

Citrus scoffed. “You know how I am with my clothes. I’m lucky enough that I didn’t get anything on it during the reception. Not gonna push my luck with dinner on a moving train!”

Braeburn laid a forehoof on top of hers and snickered. “Ah figured as much. But as fer my vest… Ah hafta, Citrus. The longer Ah stay outta Appleloosa, the more chance there is that one o’ ‘em Deputies causes trouble ‘gain.”

“Oh, you mean the Deputies you trained?”

He snorted. “Can lead a pony ta water, Citrus—“

“But you can’t make him as good a law-pony as you,” she finished, beaming.

Braeburn adjusted the brim of his Stetson and chuckled again. “Heh, well, Ah guess ya could put it that way. Point is, Ah need ta be back in uniform as soon as we git off this train. Ah wanna be rarin’ ta go when we—“

Citrus giggled, bringing a forehoof to her lips.

Raising an eyebrow, Braeburn asked, “What’s so funny?”

“’Rarin’ to go?” Citrus repeated, failing to stifle her laughter. Avoiding his eyes, she continued to chuckle, sending a light tinge of pink across his cheeks.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Catching her breath, Citrus didn’t respond at first, burying her muzzle his chest while she calmed down. Finally, once she could look at him without dissolving further into laughter, she grinned. “Just think about it… ’Rarin’ to go,’ Brae,” she said with a wink, resting a forehoof on his chest.

Braeburn rubbed his nape and looked away. “Oh. Heh… Well…”

“Well what?” she teased.

“Well,” he said, meeting her gaze, “Ah never would’ve taken you fer that kind o’ mare, Citrus. Ya know, one o’ ‘em dirty-minded ones.”

Citrus smacked him on the shoulder, feigning offense. “Hey!”

Braeburn smirked. “Ya know, Ah would expect that from Babs, o’ maybe even Bloom on a rare day, but you? Citrus Blossom, the refined mare of Manehatten?”

Citrus rolled her eyes. “Oh, c’mon, Brae. You and I both know that Citrus Blossom is long gone.”

“Maybe…” Braeburn brought his forehoof to meet hers on his chest and squeezed it tenderly. “But Ah like this one better. Much better.”

Behind Citrus Blossom’s perfect eyes, something shifted. Braeburn watched as his mare scooted closer against him, then leaned up, resting her muzzle against his neck while she whispered hotly into his ear:

“Oh, do you?”

The forehoof on his chest applied direct pressure to his heart, which leapt in response. Missing a breath, Braeburn was unable to reply. In his wordlessness, the confined cab, with its locked door, shrank to the size of the entire Universe itself.

And though the train beneath their hooves sped onwards towards Appleloosa, through meadow and over river towards plain and desert, time itself might have suspended for all that he knew.

Once he caught his breath, Braeburn looked down at Citrus Blossom lying against him and said as confidently as he could, “Y-yeah, Ah do. Ah really do.”

“I see…”

The calm, reserved demeanor of his mare disappeared, replaced by the coy teasing of her smile and her slow exhalations against his ear. Braeburn had never known Citrus to be a tease or a flirt. Right now, with her tail swishing against his hind fetlocks, if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought otherwise.

“So…” Moving to face him directly, Citrus lowered her eyelids. “How long is it to Appleloosa, Braeburn?”

The stallion found that his forehooves had a mind of their own, wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer to him. “Eight hours, Citrus,” he said, his tone deep and smooth.

“And how long has it been?”

“... Thirty minutes,” Braeburn guessed, time the last thing on his mind in this moment.

Citrus bit her lip. She stroked his chest in circles, looking away from her stallion as if in deep thought.

The hoots and hollers beyond their cab door, faint as already were, seemed to fade completely. The roaring and roaring motion of the locomotive’s steam, of its wheels eating up the track that separated them from home, offered no interruption. Though he possessed all five known senses without handicap, Braeburn wondered in those seconds if he had gone deaf, or perhaps blind, to anything but her.

Everything else but Citrus Blossom’s contemplative smile and the thundering of his heartbeat came to pass, and Braeburn wouldn’t have traded back for any of it.

Finally, Citrus turned back around and shifted her position, sitting on his stomach. “Well, then,” she began, looking down at him with those perfect eyes and that perfect smile, “that’s more than enough time, don’t you think?”

Braeburn simply nodded.

His wandering forehooves found her hips, holding her tight as he looked up to the mare straddling him. He swallowed hard, his tongue become thick and obstructive in his mouth. Blood rushed to his ears and muzzle, his heartbeat drowning out everything but her warm, steady breath.

Citrus Blossom in all her beauty was so close, so close to the twitching stallionhood between his hindhooves, he feared he might not be able to hold back this time, unlike the countless others…

Leaning down, Citrus threw her forehooves around his neck and drew her muzzle close to his. She whispered to him in that same sweet voice, her voice as smooth as the desert sand, as smooth steam rising from the oasis, as smooth as her skin…

"That’s right. It's just you and me in here, Braeburn. Nopony can get in. The door’s locked.
It’s just us…

“Just you..."

She ran a forehoof through his shaggy mane, letting it slowly trail down to his cheek and neck before resting it above his heart. His arrhythmic heart skipped a beat at her touch, at her slow breath against his neck, at her eyes piercing into his.

"... And me."

Braeburn felt himself continue to stir between his hindhooves, beginning to rise. His ears and cheeks burning, he knew nothing but the sensation of Citrus's lips finally meeting his, lost for words or coherent thought.

The stallion melted in her forehooves, his body falling slack against her as they dove downwards, together, into the caress. Citrus Blossom kissed him deeper, sliding her tongue past the entrance of his mouth.

Braeburn pulled her close, wrapping his forehooves around her torso as his tongue engulfed and entwined with hers. He moaned through their kiss, closing his eyes and hoping—no, praying that this was not a dream.

Eight years of repressed desire reawakened, spreading through his veins, rushing blood to all the inconvenient places. The reins holding him back from taking her, from making her his mare, and he her stallion, were finally cut.

With the setting sun casting their shadows tall and long into the cab, there was no more holding back.

Braeburn had spent too many lonely nights to count cursing his biology and doing everything short of smacking himself down there, willing himself not to think of her, not like that, to resist this now.

Besides, there was no way in Equestria that a gorgeous, elegant mare like Citrus Blossom would ever love a simple stallion with unshorn fetlocks and dust in his mane. At least, that's what he had previously thought.

Now, eight years of trials and tribulations and life and death later, all he had ever known was brushed away, cast aside, ground to dust. There were no more fears, no more questions.

There was just Citrus and Braeburn, alone in their little train cab, uniting in hoof and tongue and heart.

Lost in the kiss, he jolted when she removed her lips from his. As he opened his eyes, Braeburn saw Citrus slowly crawling off him, swishing her tail and blushing deeply. Before he could open his muzzle, she grabbed his forehooves with her own and tugged, then spoke softly.

“Let’s go to bed.”

Far from nightfall, he slowly rose to his hooves. As he looked around their little cab, his eyes suddenly widened.

“R-right here? Right now?”

She trotted up to him and began nuzzling his chest, neck, and shoulders. “Yes, Braeburn,” she answered quietly, leaving a quick trail of kisses down his jaw, “right now.”

Braeburn swallowed .“But… What if… Haah...” The teasing nibble of her teeth on his shoulders took his breath away.

“What if what?” Citrus bit down a little harder on his neck.

Fighting the chill in his spine that threatened to bring him to his hooves, Braeburn asked with all his might, “Wh-what if somepony hears us, Citrus? O’... mmf... sees us?”

Removing her muzzle from his neck, Citrus took a step back and stared straight into him. She paused that same contemplative pause, tapping at her chin for a moment before letting her forehoof fall to the floor.

There was a new fire in her eyes, one that transfixed him, making her all but irresistible. If he had any last shred of doubt in his mind, she erased it in two words:

“Let them.”

Then, her lips were on his again, and he finally surrendered.

Braeburn took hold of her, wrapping his forehooves around her and kissing back deeply, passionately. She moaned softly as he grasped her, returning the kiss by wrapping her tongue around his.

Certain that his thundering heart must have given out and rewarded him with this dream of dreams, Braeburn led Citrus Blossom to the bottom bunk bed. Trotting backwards, he laid down on his back on the mattress, then picked her up and pulled her on top of him.

Citrus Blossom, eyes still closed, deepened their kiss. When she no longer felt him returning it, she opened her eyes to find him staring up at her from below. "What's wrong, Braeburn?"

Braeburn sighed and shook his head, a dreamy grin on his muzzle. "Yer so beautiful, Citrus. It’s jus’... Ah still don't understand. Ah still can't believe how you could go fer a stallion like me."

Instead of replying, Citrus kissed his neck, glancing up to see him nicker in pleasure. Grinning, she moved her lips to the other side of his neck, letting them linger there, nibbling gently at his fur. Her forehooves moved next to his vest. It drifted down to the floor along with its silver star. His Stetson was gently removed and placed next to them on the bed.

Moving his hooves from her waist up to her shoulders, he warned, "Don't ya think Ah'm gonna l-let ya dodge that question…"

"Oh?" Citrus stretched out on top of him. "And what if I do? What’s the big, bad Sheriff of Appleloosa going to do to a little mare like me?”

Blushing scarlet, Braeburn muttered, "Ya have no idea, Citrus…"

"Oh, but I think I do..." Flickering her tail, Citrus brushed it slowly between his hindhooves, sending chills down his spine. To his dread, Braeburn's stallionhood began to awaken further, hardening slightly at her touch.

"N-no fair." Braeburn flipped their positions so that he was on top this time. Holding her close with his forehooves around her waist, the stallion pressed his lips to hers. Falling deeply into their kiss, he explored her mouth, massaging her tongue with his own.

Citrus wrestled her tongue against his as she pinned her forehooves against his chest, seeking, finding, pinning, winning, and losing. All in one embrace, one caress, one motion. She closed her eyes and let herself fall with him, let her soft moans fill his ears.

And it was all she'd ever wanted—to be held by him like this, to be kissed by him like this.

Reluctantly breaking their kiss, Braeburn looked into her eyes, lowering his voice. "Now... Tell me this time... How does a pretty mare like you end up wit' a stallion like me?" He nuzzled her neck and kissed near the base of her ear, his heart racing in anticipation.

Through a whimper of pleasure, Citrus held him closer and said, "Because... A mare like me... fell in love with a stallion like you..."

Braeburn froze, pulling back to stare straight at her. Had his ears betrayed him, just as the stirring length between his hindhooves did?

By some stroke of the Most High's mercy or Fate's fortunate smile, he was lying on top of Citrus Blossom, running his forehooves through her mane and staring into her eyes. By sheer, incomprehensible alignment of the stars, he was here, lying on this bed while the Heavens and the Earth passed them by, with her.

Luck had saved him more than once. Perhaps luck had brought him here now.

Braeburn had long ago accepted the fact that he was deeply, hopelessly, madly in love with Citrus. Throughout the eight years since she and Libra had staggered into Appleloosa, he had done his best to hide it. He allowed his love to show through sly words and endless devotion, working his hooves into the sand to keep her and his aunt healthy, happy, and safe.

He had never, ever let himself believe that his feelings could be anything but unrequited, or that he would ever hear the words she was about to utter.

To his supreme disbelief, Citrus lifted Braeburn's chin to meet her eyes and said, "Yes, Braeburn…

“I love you."

If he had been a few years older, he would have keeled over right then and there, so fast and erratic was his heart—almost painfully fast, almost as if it was ready to jump out of his chest and embrace the mare who had stolen it.

"... Do you love me?"

Her words were quieter now, as if she feared that they would all be for naught.

Braeburn answered her the only way he knew how.

Caressing her chin with a forehoof, Braeburn said, "Ah always have, Citrus, an' Ah always will.

“Ah love you, too."

Citrus let a tear fall from her shining eyes.

It was real.

Pulling him closer, Citrus kissed him again, deep and needy and wanting, wanting to fall into him and mold with him and become one with him. Wanting to lose herself in finding him, become two waves of the same sea—two sides of the same horizon, twisting and turning and entwining and becoming the beginning and end of the other.

As Braeburn returned the deep kiss, entwining his tongue around hers, Citrus let her mind wander.

She wasn't quite sure when she had first fallen in love with him. To pinpoint one skipped heartbeat out of hundreds was a seeming exercise in futility. To fully list Braeburn's qualities, all the little things she loved about him—his smile, his laugh, his courage, his determination, his eyes—would require more parchment and ink than what could be found in the Canterlot Archives.

Nonetheless, Citrus knew that, some time ago, Braeburn had become more than a Deputy to her—or a Sheriff, for that matter. He had become more than family, more than a friend. He had become more than a stallion who could buck apples, or build cabins, or take care of his family—of her.

Some time ago, Braeburn had crossed the boundary in Citrus's mind from one she had to love to one she wanted to love. To love more than she was allowed or expected to do so. To love more than she had ever thought possible.

To love in a way that both terrified and excited her—the kind of love for which there is no end, no going back.

And, as Braeburn's heart began to thunder in time with hers, she realized that she knew then how Apple Bloom and Babs Seed must have felt at that moment, almost four years ago, when they confessed that their love had been greater than what they believed their hearts capable of holding for one another.

This, Citrus Blossom thought, must be what it feels like to truly be in love.

She broke the kiss, paused for breath, and snuggled closer to him. The heat between her flanks showed no signs of stopping, her sweet scent beginning to tantalize her stallion’s nostrils.

Spurred by her rising need, Citrus closed her eyes and nuzzled his neck. She waited only a moment before turning her muzzle to meld her lips with his.

Braeburn rested one of his forehooves on her stomach, allowing a little bellow of a moan to escape his lips as he pulled her closer. His stallionhood began to extend once he detected the musk of her need, the scent accelerating his own.

Soon, the confined cab was hazy with their combined pheromones, the aromas of their need pulling them deeper into the depths of desire.

When Citrus grasped his tongue with her own and pressed herself completely flush against him, Braeburn slid his forehooves down her soft chest and stomach, resting them just above her marehood.

Blushing madly, Braeburn realized he could sense her down below, burning and glistening and ready, a fire and a furnace blazing just for him, only for him.

He was close enough to touch her, to feel her, close enough that he could see the remnants of her joyful tears clinging to her eyelashes...

Breaking the kiss, Citrus flung her hindhooves around his waist, straddling him. Scarlet sparked across both of their cheeks as she exhaled hotly over his muzzle, unable to wait much longer.

Urgency knocked in her body, soul, and mind. Every touch, every kiss only added to her overwhelming necessity, making her blood hot and her mind wild.

She needed him more than ever.

"I want you, Braeburn..."

Citrus breathed heavily, fire in her veins and her loins and her eyes and her mane. She tightened the grip of her hindhooves around his waist and used her tail to tease him. Her soft, delicate strands stroked him up and down, eliciting a shudder of pleasure from her stallion.

The overpowering sensation of his musk and the shivering of his spine only furthered her drive. She leaned in close to whisper into his ear, "I want you right now."

Citrus Blossom kissed and nibbled at his neck, the light tug of her teeth making him gasp. "Please."

Braeburn bit his lip in pleasure. "Ah… Ah..."

The stallion groaned as his length finally slid in between them, extending fully and slapping against his belly. He opened his eyes to see her staring back at him, her blush matching his.

The demands of his body dominated his thoughts, making his mind a haze of fire and ice. Opposing desires tangoed with each other, switching positions, needing and wanting to lose their element in the other—as he wanted to lose himself in her, in the swaths of her mane and her fur and the embrace of her hooves and the caress of her lips.

Braeburn didn’t immediately answer, letting his forehooves wander again instead. Stroking her chest and stomach gently, he was amazed at how soft she was. Soft and warm and his.

He wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there, to entwine and connect and unite with her—body and soul, heart and mind, two becoming one.

One concern, however, made him hesitate, if only for a second.

"Yer not... Um... in season, are you?"

Citrus Blossom shook her muzzle and smiled, stroking his mane. "No, sweetie, I'm not." She nipped at his opposite ear this time, letting her hot breath chill and spur him in the same motion.

Then, Citrus lowered her voice to something smooth, sultry, smoky. Something that Braeburn had never heard from his mare. Something that set his veins afire and pulled him deeper into the sea of desire threatening to consume him.

"Now..." Glancing down at his belly, Citrus said with half-lidded eyes, "Let's do something about that little friend of yours. Or, should I say, big friend."

Braeburn chuckled awkwardly, blushing deeper still. "Heh, well, uh—"

Citrus whispered, “Just relax,” and moved her forehooves to his shoulders.

Switching their positions, Citrus pushed the stallion down into the bed, using her other forehoof to steady herself. Leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, chest, and stomach, she quickly made her way down between Braeburn's flanks. She let her teeth tease him as well, though she made no motion to slow her pace.

Having lost her virginity long ago to a colt who had never come close to deserving it, Citrus Blossom was ready, experienced, and in no mood to wait. She had waited long enough already.

Descending down his body, she let a final kiss grace his hips, exhaling hotly over his flesh when she met her destination.

There, all ten inches of black-and-yellow stallionhood waited, hard as a diamond in a snowstorm and displayed for all to see.

Braeburn shifted his hindhooves as her breath wrapped around him, aroused even further by his own embarrassment. Though he had (shamefully) fantasized about lying in this exact position with her, he had brushed aside all thoughtsof it becoming reality.

Reality came in a burst of ecstasy when Citrus began running her warm, thick tongue up and down his length.

"Oh, Celestia, C-Citrus..."

She stared up into his eyes as she teased him—into his pristine, emerald-green eyes, into the eyes of the stallion who saved her, who rebuilt her when all was destroyed, who kept her warm and loved on those dark, dark nights.

She stared up into his eyes and didn't want to let go.

Flattening her tongue, Citrus swirled around the head, then ran her tongue back down to the base, then back up again. The taste proved addictive rather than unpleasant—sweet and musky, salt and sugar. Better than she had expected, and far better than she had tasted before.

Moaning , Citrus rested her forehooves on his hips, looking up at him while she gave him long, slow, teasing strokes.

"Haah..." Closing and opening his muzzle in wordless rapture, Braeburn leaned back and shut his eyes. He tugged at his mane, yanking and grunting, desperately searching for a hoof-hold.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be real. It was too much of all he had ever wanted, all he had ever dreamt, to be real.

Opening his eyes, Braeburn glanced down in disbelief as Citrus Blossom’s warm, wet tongue traveled up and down his stallionhood, little whinnies of her own pleasure only serving to spur him further.

He reached down and brushed her mane back away from her face, tucking it behind her ears and neck. A low moan echoed from his throat as she suckled lightly around his head, teasing his sensitive skin with her teeth.

"Haaah... Citrus... Ah... Ah love ya so much..."

She smiled and pulled away, murmuring in delight as she licked her lips.

"I love you too, Braeburn.”

Citrus took a moment to reposition herself. Spreading her hindhooves, she flicked her tail up against her marehood near her swollen clit, shivering at her own developing arousal. Although she ached to reach back and relieve herself of her own hypnotizing need, she resisted with every inch of her willpower. This wasn't about her right now.

This was about loving the one who had put all the broken pieces of her back together, back when everything had been stolen from her. This was about showing love to the one who had been by her side all these years—the one who had given his all and asked for nothing in return.

This was about Braeburn, the stallion she loved.

Locking eyes with him, Citrus approached him, ready to take him in. She opened her mouth and supported his stallionhood gently with a forehoof against its side.

In one swift motion, Citrus enveloped Braeburn, taking the first few inches of him, head and shaft both, between her lips.

Letting out a baritone moan of absolute, torturous pleasure, Braeburn clutched at his mane, his hips grinding involuntarily against her. "Mmph! Citrus!"

Holding back the urge to cough when he suddenly bucked into her throat, Citrus closed her eyes and took a breath through her nostrils. Carefully, she held him in place while she took him further. That slow, soft tongue of hers sucked and licked at his shaft as she descended down his length.

His stallionhood twitched and throbbed in her mouth, making both of them moan. Citrus took another breath again and forced herself farther down, until she could feel herself reaching her limit. Once she had taken as much of him as she safely could, she opened her eyes and pulled back up, sucking and licking on the ascent.

Braeburn spread his hindhooves further and threw his head back on the pillow, unable to silence his cries. Waves of pleasure rocketed through him, sending warmth from his loins outward. Making him buck. Making him groan.

The physical sensation was far more intense that anything he could have imagined. He could only lie helpless while the mare of his dreams took his most sensitive organ in her mouth, sending his mind reeling, flying, beyond the stars.

Braeburn rested his forehooves in her mane, stroking it gently as he watched her bob up and down on his thick, pulsating stallionhood. Catching her gaze, his pleasure was only amplified by the sight of Citrus staring straight into him through her journey up and down his member.

His mare’s expert tongue swirled and suckled at the head, then traversed down his shaft, pushing as much of him into her mouth and throat as she could handle. With every stroke, Braeburn felt Citrus drawing him closer and closer to his edge. It took every last bit of his willpower to keep steady and let her decide the speed, rather than forcing himself down her throat, as his shivering hips only begged for him to do.

Sweet, salty pre leaking from his tip, Citrus Blossom retracted briefly, holding him between her forehooves. Savoring the taste of him in her mouth, she swallowed all she had, then looked back up at him in anticipation of more.

"Braeburn… Ahh-haah..." Citrus moaned, her marehood growing hot and wet from the mere act of servicing him. "Don't hold back, alright?"

Nodding furtively when she took him back in, Braeburn muttered, "Ah… Ah won't st—hnnng!"

Clutching at the bed’s comforter, Braeburn closed his eyes as his hips began bucking independent of his will. He arched his back as that taunting edge sent his heart racing faster, bucking like a wild-stallion in his chest.

Citrus held him down with one forehoof pushing against his waist, the other carefully supporting his stallionhood. She doubled her efforts and enveloped him again, letting him fill her mouth, fill it with a delicious taste and pressure. Feeling herself dripping with need, she moaned in a haze of her own pleasure as her stallion began to cry out in a language beyond Equestrian.

The thick, throbbing head of his member began to flare inside her mouth, making Citrus withdraw a bit. Still, she continued, swirling her tongue around his head, sucking on his shaft, tugging gently at his skin with her teeth.

All the while, she looked up at him, fiery-rubies crashing into emeralds, her cheeks crimson when his eyes met hers.

"Citrus, Ah'm—Ah'm gonna—"

Braeburn clenched his teeth as she overtook him at last, sending him tumbling over the edge of the edge.

Pulling his hips back, he made his best effort to escape the warm, inviting furnace of her mouth, only to be foiled by Citrus's firm grasp of hoof and tongue. Closing his eyes, Braeburn cried out in a low bellow of a whinny, shuddering and bucking his hips as he pumped hot, warm trails of his nectar into her mouth.

Citrus Blossom swallowed him, every last drop, drinking in the sweet, salty taste of her stallion. She held him close and firm, closing her eyes and relishing the wonder of having pleasured the one she loved for the very first time.

Drawing back as rode out his climax and emptied warm, sticky seed into her mouth, Citrus licked him clean, finishing up the last drops glistening on his head before she finally pulled away from his now-flaccid member. Licking her lips, she looked up at him with a grin.

Braeburn scrambled to sit up and looked away from her, all previous blood that had rushed down below now proliferating across his muzzle in shame. "Citrus, Ah, Ah'm so sorry, Ah—mmmf!"

Wrapping her forehooves around his chest, Citrus leaned up and kissed him urgently, swirling her tongue, thick with his taste, around his. Braeburn groaned in ecstasy as he returned the kiss, pleasantly surprised that he wasn't as nauseating as he thought he would be.

Pressing close to him, Citrus moved her forehooves up to his neck, then brushed her most sensitive area against his stomach. She cooed in pleasure of her clitoris grinding against his fur, leaving a slick wetness behind.

Braeburn's eyes shot open when her scent reached his nostrils. Sweet and inviting, it cast aside any post-orgasmic exhaustion that was beginning to bear down on him. He wanted more. He needed more.

A heavily blushing Citrus laid flush against him, clinging to him with all four hooves and swishing her tail near her marehood. "I... I'm really glad you liked that," she said, grinding herself lightly against his stomach. She gasped, stroking her throbbing clit with a thick tuft of his fur. "Ah! You were—haah!—wonderful, Braeburn."

Braeburn grinned. "'’Wonderful’?'"

"Taste wonderful..." Citrus's ears flattened as she giggled into his neck. "S-sorry. That's a pretty naughty thing to say, isn't it?"

"Naughty, eh?" Raising an eyebrow, Braeburn asked with a sly smirk, "Yer a naughty mare, is that it?"

Citrus bit her lip, her ears flattening against her head and her forehooves clutching at the back of his mane. She bucked her hips against his stomach again, sliding up and down while she nodded.

Braeburn leaned in closer and wrapped his forehooves tightly around her. Encouraged by her scent and his release, his primal instincts took hold of him. The need for his mare, his love, and to unite and be with her surpassed his lingering nerves.

"Naughty mare… Ah see… Am Ah gonna have ta teach ya a lesson?"

Grinding again against his belly, matting his fur in thick streams of her nectar, Citrus whinnied as she cried out, "Please! Please, Braeburn." Her mind was a haze of throbbing need and unrequited desire. The cab spun, not on account of the train.

It was becoming almost unbearable. She needed him—his touch, his kiss, him inside her.

His blush matching hers, Braeburn caressed her deeply, adrenaline awakening within him as her wonderful, eager molars brushed against his tongue. More little gasps and moans escaped her, making his hooves wander again, down to her chest, her hips.

Citrus nibbled and suckled on his tongue, asking and requesting and begging with the tango of her mouth against his. His answer was wordless and swift.

Quickly, Braeburn exchanged their positions, flipping down on top of her. He laid her down on the bed, then rose to all four hooves. The stallion brushed a forehoof down her chest and exhaled hotly as they tore away from their kiss, a thin trail of saliva connecting their tongues.

Without prompting, Citrus spread her hindhooves, then looked up at Braeburn. Breathing heavily, she let a forehoof wander down her coat, down her chest, down her stomach, letting it come to rest above her marehood.

Still staring at him, Citrus teased her slit with the tip of her forehoof, then spread her lips, revealing a swollen, throbbing pearl and rivers of anticipating nectar.

Braeburn swallowed, feeling his stallionhood peek from its sheath and extend again at the sight of the beautiful mare—the mare of his dreams—lying seductively on the bed, spreading herself for him.

"Like what you see?" Citrus whispered, blushing and aching for him to touch her.

Braeburn nodded slowly, transfixed by the sight before him. "Yer... yer so beautiful, Citrus..."

Citrus winked and sighed in anticipatory pleasure. "I'm not just for looking, Brae..."

Crimson covering his muzzle, he leaned down to her ear and whispered back, “Ah know…”

His forehoof slid down her neck, her chest, her stomach, then found her forehoof as it rested against her button. Braeburn squeezed her forehoof with his own and pressed gently.

Citrus bucked her hips in response and closed her eyes. “Hahh… Who’s the tease now?”

“Takes one ta know one,” Braeburn murmured, pushing her forehoof away. He tapped her clitoris gently, once, twice, invoking chills down her spine and moans from her throat.

Citrus closed her eyes and arched her back, brushing against his forehoof. Warm, thick pleasure drowned her thoughts, replaced with only the burning furnace between her flanks.

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him with a smirk. “Mm… I’ll give you that… and much, much more…”

Moving so that he was muzzle-to-muzzle with her, Braeburn kissed her gently, then said as he began to stroke her, “As will Ah…

“Ah’ve wanted this fer too long…”

Citrus cooed, sweat dripping down her forehead and neck. “Ah… hah... Me… too…”

His strokes became more forceful, the tip of his forehoof and the light hairs of his fetlock focused on the epicenter of her pleasure. Citrus’s hips began bucking of their own accord in time with his taunting rubbing.

Braeburn continued, increasing the speed and pressure while he looked down at his mare with a warm smile and loving eyes. Rewarded by her soft moans and cries, the stallion furthered his ministrations, using his other forehoof to tease up and down her slit. Citrus groaned and rocked heavily in response, grinding against his keratin.

His thick stallionhood, ready for a second round, extended further as her musk became overpowering. Full and erect against his stomach, his member twitched impatiently. Nevertheless, Braeburn fought the temptation to enter her right then and there, too focused on readying his mare.

Jaw agape, unable to speak more than a few shaky words between her groans, Citrus Blossom stared up at the stallion of her dreams, watching as his forehooves worked a beautiful magic between her flanks. “Haah… Oh, Brae... Nggg…”

Citrus cried out again when his thick, warm tongue found her neck, licking slowly from nape to throat and back again. Nibbles escalated to bites while he continued to stroke her. When the tip of his forehoof teased her entrance, she bucked forcefully against him, burying her moan in his mane.

“Aaah! Haah… Brae…”

“Yea?” he asked innocently, kissing her neck. “What's wr—nnng!”

A pair of warm forehooves grasped his member from both sides, stroking up and down. While he froze in rapture, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, Citrus leaned over, pressing up against his forehooves down below.

“I need you, Braeburn…”

She stroked faster, harder. Keratin and fur brushing against his twitching, throbbing stallionhood, bits of pre already leaking from the head. Her lips found his neck, licking, then biting.

Braeburn groaned, pulling his forehooves briefly away from her in the blinding haze of his pleasure.

Citrus bucked forcefully, forcing his touch to return. She spoke again, her warm, sweet breath and musk and scent and sweat and need enveloping him, engulfing him, more than her mouth or hooves could ever hope to do...

“I need you, Braeburn. Right now.”

When their eyes met, Citrus pulled away from his touch. Removed her forehooves from him, then switched their positions again. Laid him on his back, making sure his head met the pillow. Straddled his stomach, her slick warmth matting his fur.

Sat up on him, her tendrils of fiery-orange mane falling in cascades to her shoulders. Looked down at him, a blush and coy smile and inviting eyes asking all that she had ever wanted.

Braeburn reached up and wrapped his forehooves around her waist. Spread his hindhooves. Flattened his back. Looked up at her. Bucked his erect stallionhood against her tail and back.

“Ready, Braeburn?”

The stallion nodded.

“Ready.”

Citrus leaned down and kissed him.

Braeburn kissed back.

“I love you so much.”

“Ah love you too.”

As she pulled away, Citrus Blossom grabbed his Stetson from beside them and jammed it on her head.

Braeburn laughed. “Jus’ whaddya think yer doin’, Citrus?”

Citrus winked. “You’ll see.”

In one swift motion, Citrus lifted her hips, scooted back, and slid onto his waiting stallionhood.

Breathless, Braeburn arched his back as first his sensitive head, and then his shaft entered her, warm and wet and tight and constricting. Gripping her waist, he groaned at the most wonderful, pleasurable sensation he had ever experienced. For a moment, he laid still, closing his eyes to catch his breath and prevent himself from erupting right then and there.

Being inside the mare he loved, feeling her slide onto him, taking in every inch of him as he bottomed out within her, brought forth every morsel of love and joy and hope and fear and a thousand other emotions from within him, so much that, when he opened his eyes and looked up to see her smiling and blushing down at him, he swore that she was glowing, bathed in radiant light.

While the train churned its wheels toward Appleloosa and the dying sun set behind the mountains to the north, Citrus Blossom and Braeburn joined, two becoming one.

Citrus, sweat dripping down her forehead and neck, her mane a wild mess, took in a sharp, yet deep breath. For far too long, she had only dreamt of this, and when it finally happened, she needed a moment to take it all in.

His warm, pulsating stallionhood inside of her, filling her to the brim and stretching her wonderfully—so long it had been, and so big was he—was nothing short of nirvana, white-hot pleasure mixed with a tad of sore but welcoming pain.

Instinctively, Citrus Blossom’s hips rocked back and forth, proliferating chills traveling through her spine to his. She felt herself squeezing around him, trying to take more of him inside her.

Remaining still, Citrus threw her head back, panting. “Br… Braeburn…”

His chest and forehead glistening with sweat, Braeburn braced himself against the bed and panted in return. “Ye… yeah?”

“It’s… Mmmmf…” Biting her lip, Citrus looked down and bucked her hips again, making them both groan. “It’s… Been a while…”

Braeburn leaned up and gripped her tightly, bringing his muzzle a few inches from hers. “Are—are ya okay? We… Haah… We can stop…”

Resting her forehooves on his shoulders, Citrus shook her head. Slowly but forcefully, she began to rise back up, stroking him with her tightening marehood before sliding back down. “N-no… Just… Gimme a bit…”

Her tongue flopping out of her mouth as she rose back up, Citrus cursed under her breath. “Horseapples, you’re big…”

Holding her in place, Braeburn, his countenance crimson, muttered back, “Th-thanks?”

Citrus bit her lip. “Have you… Haah… Done this before?”

“Long time ago,” Braeburn said, groaning when she slid back to the base of his shaft.

“Okay… Just… Let me lead…”

“Ahh… Alright…”

Determined to make this as pleasurable as possible for both of them, Citrus Blossom gripped his shoulders as tightly as she could, her forehooves leaving impressions in his flesh. When Braeburn returned the gesture, squeezing her waist and drawing her closer, she took that as her signal, and pulled back up again.

On her ascent, Citrus breathed deeply, trying to relax. On her descent, she squeezed around him, using her inner walls to grant him an additional stroke. When the stallion bucked back against her, she knew she had found her rhythm.

The Stetson on her head bobbing in time with her hips, Citrus Blossom began to ride Braeburn, bucking against him for all he was worth. Her hindhooves pushed up forcefully, drawing up so that he was almost completely separated from her before she slid back down on him again.

By the third stroke, Braeburn was panting, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Citrus smirked through her own pants and squeezed his shoulders. “F-feels good?”

“Y-yeah…” Tightening his own grip on his mare, Braeburn raised his hips, thrusting further within her. “H-how ‘bout that?”

“Aaah! Y-yes…” Opening her eyes, Citrus pulled down on the brim of the Stetson. “R-ready to go… f-faster?”

Gritting his teeth, Braeburn responded by bucking as she pulled out, thrusting his hips into hers.

Citrus Blossom, letting loose a growl of pleasure, grinned and whispered hotly into his ear, “Hold on tight… Sheriff.”

With that, she slammed down on him, making him bottom out inside her. Braeburn groaned as she engulfed him, squeezing and tightening all the way. Citrus allowed her own cries of pleasure to escape as she pulled back up, then slammed back down, over and over again.

Each time she rode him out, Braeburn thrusted back in, driving them together, closer, faster. Each time she slammed back down, Citrus squeezed around him, tipping them closer to the edge.

Their coats and manes covered in thick sweat, the room filled with their respective scents, estrogen and testosterone mixing and melding into a tantalizing aroma that spurred them onwards.

Her heart leaping from her chest, Citrus leaned back and tugged at her stallion’s Stetson, panting and groaning as she continued to ride him. His flat head probed only inches away from her cervix, filling her to the utmost heights of pleasure. With each sweet thrust, Braeburn stimulated the most intimate parts of her, clearing her mind of all rational thought or action.

“Nnnnggg… Haaah… Ahhh…”

Baring down on him, Citrus squeezed, contracting her inner walls around his shaft as she rode back down. The incredible friction of him against her was driving her wild. Faster, harder she rode, lifting herself back up and down, back and forth, Braeburn rising to meet her each time.

Open-mouthed and panting, she looked down to see him staring back up at her, as breathless and enraptured as she was. His mane a wild tangle of orange and yellow, his emerald-green eyes tunneling into hers, his strong forehooves gripped on her waist tight enough to ache, she knew he was close, and began bucking and grinding back against his thrusts for all she was worth.

“C-Citrus! Ahhh! Nnng, buck!”

Pressing his forehead against the pillow, Braeburn rolled his hips, thrusting desperately at her, crying out as her marehood began to tighten and squeeze. The pleasure speeding through his veins reached his heart, taking his breath away. The great pressure building up in his loins came to a sudden edge when she clamped down on him like a vice on her third or thirtieth descent.

They gasped in unison.

“Brae, I’m—”

“—Comin’!”

This time, his bellow became a roar, a deep baritone shout of pleasure breaking free as his stallionhood flared inside her, pressing deep within. Spurt after spurt of hot seed burst into his mare, over and over again, while her strong muscles held him in place, milking him for all he was worth.

Braeburn closed his eyes as he came, breathing rapid and shallow through his nostrils, his mind a haze and blur of everything and nothing. The most intense orgasm of his life galloped through him, wiping his thoughts blank and clean.

Citrus Blossom clung to her stallion as she climaxed, her marehood keeping both of them in place. She screamed out with him, as long and loud but far higher, not caring in that moment if anypony heard, or anypony saw, just that she was his and he was hers and they were each other, together, riding rough beneath the rising moon and the space between then and now.

His warm, thick seed filling her, dripping down her thighs and onto him, stole her breath as she descended from her first assisted orgasm in almost a decade. Citrus spasmed and bucked her hips as the final remnants of her pleasure faded away.

Far better than any dream, she closed her eyes, wanting to savor this moment, commit it to memory.

Citrus opened her eyes and looked down at Braeburn, her stallion still inside her. She smiled as she found her breath along with him, and he smiled back.

A few moments after his final burst, he softened inside her, then slowly withdrew. She steadied herself with her forehooves on his shoulders, then, once he was apart from her, slumped down onto his chest.

A strong set of forehooves clung to her waist and pulled her close. Closing her eyes again, Citrus Blossom took a few deep breaths as the significance of this moment finally dawned on her.

She was his mare, and he was her stallion.

And nothing could have been more right.

Finally, once she could breathe normally, Citrus Blossom looked up at Braeburn, his Stetson still on her head.

Braeburn, his face flushed, exhaled heavily and met her gaze. “H-holy shit, Citrus.”

Citrus smiled. “Best you’ve ever had?”

Braeburn nodded. “By far.”

She slammed the hat back on his head. “Good.

“Next time, it’s your turn.”

He chuckled. “‘Next time’?”

A forehoof traced circles on his chest, its owner grinning widely. “Well… You should’ve figured it out by now, Braeburn…

“When an Orange finds somepony they love, they aren’t getting off that easily.”

“You ain’t no Orange, Citrus. Yer an Apple. Ma Apple,” Braeburn corrected, kissing her snout.

Citrus giggled. “You’re exactly right. And you’re mine.”

They shared a kiss in the growing moonlight.

“So,” Braeburn asked, adjusting his Stetson, “what do ya wanna do until we git ta Appleloosa?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Citrus said nonchalantly, resting her head under his chin. She sighed and smacked her lips. “I had a few ideas.”

“Like what?”

“Well, we could always talk.”

“‘Bout what?”

“Well…” Citrus looked up at him. “As you know… As of today, my little sister has officially married before me.”

Braeburn gulped. “Y-yes?”

Citrus smirked, returning to tracing circles on his chest. “Yes, about that…”