Harvest time was long. Every minute stretched out for days, every day for weeks. The sun beat down on the backs of the ponies who collected apples and reaped wheat for the Apple family every moment, and it never relented.
But harvest also ended. With the Apples, it always ended in a party, one big celebration to end all celebrations, the kind that ponies talk about for weeks. Every farmer within a day’s distance from Ponyville was there every year without fail. Their wives’ (and sometimes grown children’s) exasperation to the contrary, no head of household was missing. Every Apple hired hoof was mingling. The Apple family paid for a band and there was plenty of the best food.
But what really made such an occasion worth all of the hype? Cider. The old reserves are tapped every year, even as they were replaced. The family pulled out the private stock, the apple wine that’ll knock ponies together like rabbits in the spring. Some would say that there was enough gathered and bottled liquor in one place on this most happy night to burn down a substantial portion of the province. Conservative estimates placed it at closer to enough to burn down the town, which was far more reasonable.
They call it liquid courage, Caramel thought as he downed his third glass of hard cider. So far, he was starting to wonder how accurate that was. He still wasn’t sure. Not about the party--no, he was quite enjoying that. Or would have been, were it not for the question which nipped at his heels like a dog.
Ponies milled about, deep in their drinks and getting deeper. A great crowd of them danced haphazardly but happily in the middle of the fallow field out behind the farmhouse. Everything about this party was crazy, Caramel had to admit. The stage had been built in about three hours--he knew, because he’d had to help put it up as soon as the last of the apples were off the damn trees out in the east orchards, the ones by the forest. The dancing floor was just a lazily marked off amoeba. About the only thing done with foresight was the gathering of spirits, because the Apples had priorities. Caramel, for once, was grateful for the attention paid to such things. He could use some more, in fact.
Across the dancing crowd, far from the legs where Caramel loitered nursing an empty glass, was Big Mac. No amount of milling, dancing ponies could tear even an ounce of his attention away from Macintosh. A whole harvest's worth of busy, frantic labor hadn't been able to do it, after all.
Even from here, Caramel's eyes did to Macintosh what he had done to his family 'a cider. Caramel simply drank him in. His toned body, his calm demeanor. They said that he was a champion drinker. No pony claimed he was a hoot at parties, but not a pony minded. Like a great shadow he watched over the revelry, and he smiled.
Caramel thought he was magnificent.
"Hey, you gonna move?"
Torn from his reverie, Caramel blinked at the mare who had addressed him. He didn't recognize her. "Ah... Yeah, just gimme a second," he said and without another moment of hesitation filled his glass halfway and drank again, as if that would help, and left it behind him on a table as he made his way along the dancers' circumference, a moon orbiting the home planet, on a collision course.
He had thought about all of it. Every possible outcome and approach had been considered.
How could he not? Day in and day out, working those fields and all the while his mind was elsewhere. His eyes were always on Mac, tall, strong, sweat pouring down his muscular neck and down flanks that were steel-hard and tight from years of work, strong legs that looked like they were carved by gods. Focusing on work had been impossible, because Macintosh was always there, driving Caramel crazy. All harvest long, he had been watching, dreaming, seeing how it could happen in a million ways. How they could happen, in a million million ways.
But as he got to the other side, Caramel stalled. What if he scared him off? Is he… even… stars. Caramel, seriously. He shook his head. No. He really just needed to do this. Talk to Mac, see if he could get even the faintest glimmer of interest, or else this was going to drive him mad.
So, with the kind of studied sloppy caution that only the mildly inebriated can employ, Caramel sidled up to Macintosh and put on his best smile.
“Hey there,” he said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. His heart beat like a foal who’d just discovered music.
“Howdy,” Mac shot back, as he always had, but then he smiled. “Thought you didn’t care all that much for crowds.”
“I… uh,” Caramel blinked. “Well, I mean they’re okay. I mean, I was just here to see--” he coughed.
“It’ll do,” Mac said, and shrugged. Then, as Caramel tried to put together something vaguely shaped like a sentence, he cocked his head to one side and regarded the smaller stallion curiously. “You know, you look a little uncomfortable there, Cara. You alright?”
“Yeah! I’m great.”
Macintosh raised an eyebrow, and then chuckled. “You know, I was just startin’ to get restless. You might do better away from the crowd, and I needed some help gettin’ a few more barrels out. Can’t be too careful with my back. You sober ‘nough?”
“Me? Oh, oh yeah,” Caramel said. “I’m fine. With you. To go with you.”
Mac chuckled, gestured towards the farmhouse, and began to walk off into the night. Caramel trotted behind, elated. His imagination ran wild. Anything could happen now, after all. Anything. Oh, whoops, I was just trying to get by, I didn’t mean to get so close! A meaningful glance across--
He shook his head. This was stupid. There was no way in Tartarus he could convince Macintosh he was worth any attention. He probably wasn’t even into stallions, with Caramel’s stupid luck.
Mac opened the door, and held it open long enough for Caramel to come in. Inside, he turned on the lights and they proceeded towards the back. Caramel had been in the Apple’s house before--a few times, in fact--but he had never been through the door in the back of the house, the one that led down into the cellars. Trying to put aside his insane fantasies for a moment, he took some solace in the fact he was about to see a part of the Apple’s farm that few outsiders ever saw. No one got to see the storerooms unless they were family, near family, or there was a really good reason.
The door itself led down a flight of stairs. Just inside, a small lantern hung. It had a key that Macintosh turned carefully, and it came to life, illuminating the long stairway into the dark cellar. Carefully, the Apple stallion lifted the lantern from its hook and carried it down with him. Caramel followed.
When they came out into open space, Caramel waited while Mac lit a few lanterns hooked to the wall, like the one he carried. It was kinda spooky, really, but the warm buzz kept it from bothering him. Actually, he was starting to feel the effects of that warm buzz more now that it had had time to settle.
“Wait here, would you? I’ll jus’ be a moment,” Big Mac muttered. “Echoes somethin’ fierce in here…” he muttered, and Caramel heard it bounce all around.
Macintosh moved off to search and Caramel waited from him by the wall. In the dim light, he could almost make out the words on the barrels. He squinted, trying to read, but then gave up.
It was about this time that it occurred to him where he was and who he was with.
He took a deep breath and held it, shifting his weight from hoof to hoof nervously, mind racing. He’d always had an overactive imagination. The kind of overactive imagination that thought about how nice it must be to feel another stallion’s hot breath on his neck, teeth nibbling on his shoulder blades. They were all alone down here, weren’t they? Down in the basement… they could do anything. Big Mac could pin him to these walls, bite on his ear, make him groan for it--
Caramel shook his head and shuffled to hide his excitement. He was glad for the dark.
Gah… This is stupid. I’m stupid.
But it was nice to think about it, wasn’t it? It made him happy. It made him something else too, but he was trying not to focus too much on that because it was kind of obvious.
It was about this time that he heard a voice in his left ear.
“You’re obvious, y’know.”
He jumped, or tried to, but a hoof on his back kept him still. Caramel’s heart hammered in his throat.
“W-what? Big Mac?”
“Eeyup.”
“Celestia… you scared me! Why’d you sneak up on me like that?” he asked, trying to calm down.
“So I could do this without you tryin’ to act all coy,” Macintosh explained, and then Caramel felt heat run up his spine as Mac kissed his neck.
“W-wha--” His protest was swallowed as Mac gently pushed at him, kissing up his neck and covering his mouth. He had been close to the wall but now he was pressed against it, and he didn’t care at all. It was smooth, it was cool, it kept him close to Mac.
“You know…” Mac said, grinning in the low, flickering light, “you ain’t that subtle. I’ve seen you lookin’, and I know you told Blues you were wantin’ me. Am I wrong?”
“But… But…”
“If I ain’t right ‘bout you, just tell me and we go get those barrels. Pretend that none of this ever happened, and I’m sorry…” Mac gestured back towards the shadowed racks. “If I’m right… well,” he grinned. “Jus’ tell me.”
“Tell you… tell you what?” Caramel shook like a leaf, and not because he was afraid. This was like a fever dream come true.
“Gimme the word, and we take this upstairs, nice and quick.”
Caramel felt like he was afloat. His breathing was shallow, his legs shook, and every part of him screamed yes. He wanted this. He wanted this badly. He had no idea what was happening but he wanted it.
No, he knew exactly what was happening.
“I… you sure? Nopony will come looking for you?” he asked, his voice shaking. “How did you know?”
“Cara,” Mac began, and just hearing his name made Caramel shiver. “You are the least subtle colt I know, trust me. I’m sorry, but you’re about as good at poker as my little sister. I notice you lookin’, I know what your interests are, and I put the pieces together.” He paused. “Blues may have told me a little…”
Caramel groaned.
“Or a lot. Says you went… on and on…”
“Kill me…” Caramel continued.
“Naw,” Big Mac laughed and leaned in to kiss him firmly on the mouth. “Think we can do somethin’ else, though, if you’re up for it.”
Caramel groaned shamelessly, savoring the taste of him, the little hint of cider on his lips. He wanted more. He needed more.
And with that, Mac was pulling at him, taking him back upstairs, through the living room and up the stairs. Caramel for the first time felt his drinks as he stumbled up the stairs, but he followed those beautiful legs, strong legs that were about to help Mac buck him into next week. Celestia, but they were just magnificent, he thought to himself.
Mac pulled him along down a dim hall and into a sparse room, with only a bed and a few book shelves, and closed the door.
They crashed together again, Mac leaning over him and Caramel bending and melting like a tree in a hurricane. Caramel was being pushed back--no, led back, guided towards the bed by somepony who felt like he knew what he was doing.
When his hindlegs hit the bed he fell back willingly, lying flat so that he was exposed. Instinctively, he brought his hindquarters up, trying to hide his erection, but that just seemed to make it worse.
Big Mac eyed him for a moment, mounted the bed beside Caramel. He turned, showing off--Caramel was not dissapointed. He was huge. Something must have shown on Caramel’s face, because he laughed.
“Well?”
Caramel tore his eyes away from Mac’s cock with some difficulty and looked back up at his face. He swallowed. “Y-yeah?”
“You wanted it. Go on, then.”
Caramel returned to where he’d been looking. He swallowed again.
Macintosh chuckled and moved. “You’re a shy one,” he said, and before Caramel knew what was happening, Macintosh was pushing him firmly down against the bed. Mac was on top of him, covering him up entirely. He felt every inch of Mac and shivered as Mac bit his neck and ground their erections together.
But Mac didn’t stay there too long. He had plans. He moved up, and Caramel came face to face with Macintosh’s member. Timidly, he he stroked it with a hoof, and Mac let out a little grunt of appreciation. Caramel scooted forward, emboldened, and began to stroke along the length while kissing up the sides of Mac’s legs, nibbling on those hard, muscular thighs, each little nip getting more and more of Macintosh’s excited little responses. Mac throbbed against his hoof, thrusting just slightly, eager for his mouth.
Caramel was losing his mind. He felt his own need. If he weren’t so busy with Mac, he would have reached down and helped himself, but with every sign that Mac was enjoying what he was doing, he needed to continue. He needed to hear those grunts of pleasure.
He worked his mouth up towards Mac’s balls, sucking on them for a second before moving up to lick along his length. He could taste Mac, could feel him trying to be still even as Caramel suckled the tip of his cock and then took it all into his mouth. He swirled his tongue slowly, savoring the experience, savoring how Macintosh reacted, before beginning to bob his head back and forth.
“Ah… Cara, Cara…” Mac groaned.
Caramel sucked harder, his hooves holding onto Macintosh’s flanks for dear life. His own cock was sorely unattended. He needed to stroke, needed somepony to, but as Mac began to thrust lightly he feared that he’d lose his grip.
But then Mac pulled away suddenly, leaving Caramel gasping at cool, empty air.
Mac was rummaging for something in the dark, and before Caramel could ask for what, he was back, his lips crashing into Caramel’s, his body pressing down.
Caramel felt a hoof pushing his tail out of the way and massaging around his ring, and he felt warm all over. His face flushed, but he had no time to be disoriented. Mac finished quickly, and then lined himself up.
"Just do it!" Caramel whined.
He hadn't needed to. Mac's cock pushed at him for a moment, and before Caramel could finish worrying how he was going to take it, he did. Mac entered, sliding in bit by bit, stretching Caramel out. He was not slow--he wasn't rough, but he wasn't going to be overly gentle.
Caramel groaned and rolled his head back even as he bore down. Gods, but Mac was thick.
“More!” Caramel begged.
Mac obliged, pushing further and further until he filled Caramel. He was in to the hilt and Caramel found it hard to string together coherent sentences to beg him to just do it already, just fuck him. The wait was unbearable.
“You good?” Mac asked, his voice low.
Caramel let out a high whine in response, nodding furiously, his breathing coming hard. It had been too long. Far, far too long and he needed this. He needed every second and every inch.
Mac was pushing him up the bed, little by little, building a wall of bunched up sheets around Caramel’s head, but he threw back a hoof against the headboard to stop his progress.
Now they had leverage, and he began to thrust in earnest. He went deep, his thighs hitting Caramel’s ass with rhythmic clapping. This was perfect. Caramel had had stallions before, timid or too hard, but none had managed this perfect rhythm. He just kept at it, without hesitation or even the slightest pause, just alternating between the almost unbearable deep pleasure of being filled and the aching anticipation of being mostly empty. Caramel clenched around Mac’s hardness, grinding his teeth to keep from embarrassing himself with noise.
It didn’t work. He moaned shamelessly, feel the pleasure deep in him from Mac thrusting and along the length of his own cock as Mac’s stomach rubbed along it. It was going to be too much soon.
It was going to be too much for Mac as well. His rhythmic thrusting became more erratic but just as ever-present, still just as deep. Gods he needed this!
Mac enveloped him, pushed down on him. He could smell that distinctly masculine scent that drove him wild, feel those hard, toned legs against his flanks that put the spurs to him. Mac lowered his head beside Caramel’s, and Caramel nipped at his neck because he knew that this wasn’t just a romp. This was being fucked and he loved it.
Mac groaned and Caramel could tell he was close.
“Do it,” he hissed. “Gods, fuck me, Mac!”
Mac obliged, and pounded Caramel until he came, groaning loudly into the sheets beside Caramel’s ear. The feeling of his hot seed was too much for Caramel, and as Mac continued to follow through even as he climaxed, Caramel finished, coating Mac’s stomach with his own hot, white cum.
Finally, Mac pulled out of him, and Caramel shivered as he felt every single inch of him retreat. He was sensitive. Sore, too, or he would be. The thought made him grin like an idiot.
They lay there in the darkness, panting. Caramel couldn’t believe it. He simply flat out couldn’t believe it. But here he was, messy, exhausted, and satisfied.
Slowly, Mac rose and stumbled to his feet. He looked down at himself and chuckled.
“You comin’?”
“A...Already did,” Caramel said, still in a haze.
“I wasn’t jokin’ ‘bout those barrels,” Mac reminded him gently. “Shower is down the hall. I’ll clean you off if you clean me off.”
Caramel roused himself, sitting up with a chuckle of his own. “That sounds great, Mac. That sounds amazing.”
And it was.
Author's Note
pron
