Scotch on the Rocks

Shit…I kissed him…I really fucking kissed him. It was the wine, right? Why the hay would I do it otherwise? Totally just the wine… I thought in an attempt to convince myself that I wasn’t even slightly interested in other colts. That feeling, the one I had our first time drinking, and the one in the locker room, was coming back on me in full force. Maybe it’s the cider? I must have drank more than I thought or something. How many did I have? Three? Or was it four…six maybe?

I was trying my hardest, but there was no denying I was into him. I liked fillies…but I was a coltcuddler too. The best way to deal with this is just forget about it. It definitely worked the first time. I didn’t even remember that kiss happening…or maybe that was just from the alcohol.

The night suddenly got way more awkward than it already was. I gulped slightly, and glanced at Butterscotch who I was sure was waiting for my response. He must have forgotten about it though. He was busy concentrating on his hooves again as they plodded along the path. I sighed with relief, and he glanced at me a moment before turning his eyes up towards the sky.

My plan was simple, get Scotch home, say goodbye, get out before anything else came up, and forget that night ever happened. He, or more likely, I was making it difficult though. His body brushing back and forth against my own was feeling better by the second. Instead of wanting to push him away and let him stumble the rest of the way home on his own, I wanted to bring him even closer to me.

I looked around, back and forth, to make sure nopony was watching us. The world around us had grown even darker since we reached the outskirts of town and there were no more street lamps to light our way. I could hear the distant rushing of the creek by Scotch’s cottage, and saw the glow of his porch light farther ahead.

Even if somepony saw us walking, it was dark enough that our features were hidden. They’d of course assume that one of us was Scotch heading home, but me, they had no clue. Even though that was the case, I was still cautious. I had no idea what would happen if anypony figured out I was into colts. I was definitely sure it’d ruin my reputation though.

As long as nopony saw us…then everything was fine, perfectly fine. I tightened my wing around his back, pulling him snuggly against my side. He at me, but didn’t say a word, just smiled. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing what I was. My heart was pounding, and my body practically shaking with nerves. I was tough though. I could easily pull through those first awkward moments…besides, even if those feelings were so nerve wracking, they still felt good.

I couldn’t believe how long I’d hid those feelings from myself. It was like they were repressed memories, bad enough to forget. The problem was, they weren’t bad at all. It felt pretty good to have feelings for him…I guess that’s just the way pony society works. You try so hard to act ‘normal’ and to fit in so no one questions you or makes fun of you, that you forget who you really are; and I’m awesome no matter what! That’s a fact. Yeah, I’m different, but being unique is what makes somepony so cool, right?

I had never really realized how cute Butterscotch actually was. In a way, he sort of did look filly-ish. His face was slender, but not too small, nicely rounded. The cute pink bangs hanging down near the sides of his face and slightly covering his eyes fit him perfectly…and those eyes, the best feature on him. Although they were still a bit glazed over from our night out, his eyes were large and puppy-dog like as always, their vibrant teal color easily seen in the starlight. His normal expression, which was slowly returning to his face, displayed a trace of his persistent anxiety and fear, along with a sweet, submissive smile upon his face. He was really cute.

I decided to take a look at his body too. I peered over my shoulder and gazed at the parts which my wing didn’t cover. I knew for a fact he rarely, if not never, worked out or got any form of exercise, but his body was slim, the nice kind of slim, not a stick like he was back in Flight School. I’m not a douche, so his looks weren’t the only thing I liked. He had that adorable personality to match. It was definitely annoying sometimes, but most of the time, it just made him even cuter and more likeable.

I shook myself, realizing that he seemed to grow cuter and cuter by the second in my mind. Maybe he slipped some kind of drug in my cider or something… He didn’t. I was still just having a hard time admitting to myself how I really felt.

The boards of the bridge creaked under our hooves as we crossed over the small stream next to Scotch’s cottage. The light glowing beside his door was warm and welcoming compared to the cool, dark night. I realized there was a major problem with the plan I had developed earlier. The one where I’d get him home, leave before anything else happened and forget about the night altogether. Well, I didn’t want to leave. His body felt so awesome against mine. I wanted to hold him as long as I could.

I didn’t just want that. I wanted more. I wanted to kiss him again like back on that night. I remembered how it made me feel inside, but forgot exactly how his lips felt against mine. I wanted to find out again. I wanted to snuggle up to him, let him nuzzle his snout against my chest. I wanted to make out with him…I wanted to grind our bodies together and warm ourselves up…I totally wanted to buck him…

His persistence had finally paid off. He’d bugged me for so long, and finally, I’d given in to what he wanted. He had no clue though…or maybe he was just being shy. After that many years, I’m sure the fear factor would be pretty bad. He finally had me, but wasn’t sure what to do next? Typical Scotch.

He gently opened the door and flicked on the lights with his hoof. On the floor in front of us was his little bunny, Angel. She was a little cunt most of the time, but she really cared for Scotch. She crossed her little arms and tapped a foot angrily against the ground.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Angel…what time is it?” Butterscotch’s eyes darted up to the wooden cuckoo clock on his wall. “Oh my…” It was getting pretty late. “I’m very sorry, Angel. I know… I said I’d be home sooner. I never meant to… make you worry. You go on to bed, you look really tired. I’ll be there shortly.”

The rabbit shook her head and let out a high pitched huff before hopping away up the stairs. “Yeah, hi to you too, Angel!” I yelled up at her.

“Mmm, Blitzy…you should probably be getting home soon too… I think.” By his long pauses, still slightly slurred speech, and really slow blinks, I could tell he was still drunk, but way better than what he had been.

I honestly didn’t want to go home. The fly back wasn’t that long at all, but on cool nights like that, it seemed to take ages. His house was always so cozy. The nice rug laying in the middle of the floor; the warm green color painted over the wooden floor boards; the comfy couch sitting in the center of the room near the back, the low glow of the lamps beside it. All of it made it really welcoming. Scotch would definitely be a good interior decorator if a pony wanted something all warm and cozy. I figured it’d be nice just to stay there, not go home that night. Of course the cold air outside wasn’t the main thing keeping me there. Even if I was a bit of a coltcuddler, that totally didn’t mean I was a pansy. I could easily tough through the slight chill in the air. I wanted to stay for Butterscotch.

“Actually, uh…” I paused and scratched at the back of my head with a hoof. “I was thinking maybe I could stay over. Ya know, a sleepover, just like old times.”

“Really?” Butterscotch asked, almost in shock, although he was too drunk to show it. “You had to…put up with my shit all night long, and you’re…really still willing to spend more time with me?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Hearing him curse never got old, and still hasn’t to this day. “Of course,” I said with a smile. “You’re not that hard to deal with…besides, I’m really starting to like your shit. It’s fun.”

“Well, um…what’d you want to do? I… wasn’t really prepared for guests.”

“Uh…uh…” There were so many things I wanted to say to him as I mumbled out those ‘uhs,’ but I just couldn’t figure out how to get them out. “Uh…” Finally, a certain something he’d said from earlier that night crossed my mind, and I figured out just what to say. “You know how you said you really wouldn’t mind a nice, strong stallion with a big cock, ya know, rutting you out? Well, I could help out with that…”

Probably not my best line. If it was anypony other than Butterscotch, I think I would’ve had a hoof smacking into my cheek at that point. A much simpler, ‘You’re right, Scotch. I do love you,’ would’ve easily done the trick, and made me sound way less horny. I wasn’t really worried about what I’d said then though. Just what it said about me.

Holy Solaris, Blitz, you’re such a fucking fag! Total Coltcuddler…GAY! What the hay are you thinking…and doing?