Keepin' Your Heart a Soarin'

You shuffle along the fancy concrete path towards your apartment complex, arrays of beautiful tulips and happy looking garden gnomes stretching across both sides of you. As much as you've come to view your co-workers like family, a lot of them appear to be the dullest knives in the whole kitchen, let alone the drawer. Customer service and inter-office management issues aside, you feel so very glad to make you way up those familiar stairs. You eye Soarin's apartment.

"The door's ajar," you mutter. Oh, no. Oh.... no. No! Praise Celestia, no! Knowing that Clover had barged through in one of her feminine moods, feeling even hotter than during the usual fight, you brace yourself on the wall alongside the door. You lean forwards slowly, trying to hear what's going on. All you can see through the slightly open door are some crumbled papery bits scattered along the carpet. Everything is as quiet as a funeral. "Hey..."

"Well! Buck you!" Clover shouts, hooves pounding over to the door with the sound of a gigantic dragoness.

"No," says Soarin' in a gruff voice.

You hear Clover stop, and your heart races. You can't think, fighing being eons away from your strong suit. You find yourself just freezing completetly in place.

"Buck.... you, Clover."

A enormous grin breaks out across your face, and you feel your heart rocketing up to the stratosphere. He's finally standing up for himself. He's finally starting to believe in himself again.

*Slam!*

The door flings open right onto your left shoulder, knocking you down on your side. You make a torrent of quiet coughs, mind filling up with a weird black haze. You somehow manage to see Clover hurling herself down the stairs, hooves sliding upon the railings. You blink uncontrollably as you clutch you head, trying to stand back up. You spot Clover, now just a little dot on the horizon, still storming off.

You smile once more, and you take a deep breath. You feel fine enough, although you can't believe you forgot that the doors opened outwards. You brace yourself, and you lean over inside Soarin's place. "Hey, there. Is everything... everything..."

You can't finish the sentence. Your eyes swell to baseball size as you take in the horrible scene. Smashed glasses and plates litter across the upturned furniture and emptied out dressers, clothes torn up. Every other picture got smashed. The rest ended up tossed randomly amidst loose garbage.

You suddenly hear a low moaning, and you scurry over to the entrance to the bedroom. You lean over and rub up against Soarin'. You stare upon the thick, ugly bruises going up his chest and belly, black amidst the blue. His other cheek sports a matching mark, just like the last fight, and he seemed to have taken a bucking right to the chin. You can't believe the horrible welts across his front and back hooves, and nasty cuts seem to stretch along every few inches of his body.

"No, no, no," you groan, and you immediately run your hooves through his body. He tries to look up at you, but you just throw your head around, checking to see if he's broken any bones. "No!" You fantasize about dropping Clover from the top of Celestia's Canterlot Castle.

"I'll... I'll make it through okay," he says, slumping himself up against the wall.

"No, we have to get you to a hospital or something!" You try hard not to panic, your hands clutching Soarin's hooves tightly.

"Listen, you," he says, putting a lot of affection into that last word, "I know injuries, and I know I'll make it through fine."

You know that he'd lie to you. Yet you can tell, from his posture and his specific tone of voice, that he means every single word. You sit besides him, looking over at the open bathroom tub. "Please, just relax or something. Get in the shower. Let me get some potions and some, uh, some band-aids, and some... uh..." You tense up, having almost no idea how Equestrian medicine works. It mostly seems to scare you, especially when the doctors wave vials that smell like year old salad.

"A shower'd be nice," he says, trying to stand up. You immediately get behind him and hold him upwards. You wish that you could cradle him gently in your arms, picking him entirely up. He just seems to0 darn big, but, still, he curls up along your shoulder and lets you lead him step by step.

You flick on the water and set it to a nice, warm spray. You run your hands along his back, your arms brushing against his crumpled wings, and you place him right in the middle of the stream. In a way, you can't imagine it. You're so close, so intimate with him, and you've nursed such an intense one-way crush for weeks and weeks. Yet you hate yourself for even enjoying a little bit of this, given the horrible circumstances.

"I'll just stay with you, ready until you can make it to bed," you declare, "and then I'm going right to the police."

"No," he mutters, his face bathed by the torrent of water. "That's not necessary. It's over." You feel a strong sense of finality in his voice.

"This isn't a goddamn argument about what to serve for dinner. This is goddamn assault. This is like attempted murder. Domestic violence," you sputter, hands smashing against the bathroom sink in frustration. I'm not letting that cold, hard bitch get away with this. You grit your teeth hard, your eyes narrowing on the red marks upon Soarin's cheeks. "Clover."

"Clover is gone!" Soarin' screams, and he has his turn to smash his hooves down, making a big splash that coats your shorts with water. "History. Left and left forever."

You can't think of a response. The torrents of emotions coursing through you-- relief that he dumped her, fear that he's still really hurt, sheer hatred towards her for doing this, a lovey-dovely kind of feeling at seeing his soaking wet mane and body curl in the water, and so on-- bring your logical mind to a standstill. You just breathe deeply, finding yourself with your hands under Soarin's shoulders for support. You lose track of time, hoping that Soarin' has started to feel better.

"That's not good enough," you finally mutter, kneeling down and looking at Soarin's face eye to eye.

He seems to see right into you, picturing what's inside your heart. You do the same. He doesn't seem tense, worried, or lonely anymore. That endless pain, something like a splinter in the back of his mind that always drove him crazy even in happy movements, has disappeared forever. You can tell, and you smile.

"You need some magical something," you comment, "something to get you to feel better." I wish that I had some idea how the physics in this freaking stupid pony world works!

"Behind the teas in the refrigerator. It's small, grey, and out of the way," he says. You pull back your hands, and you sigh in relief as you see him stand on his own. You run over to the kitchen, open the door, clutch a vial, shut the door, and return to Soarin's side. He smiles as you hold out the vial, popping the cap.

He takes a drink. Immediately, a small white aura oozes across every inch of his body. The bruises don't seem to go away, but the cuts shrink and the ugly colors start to fade. At any rate, he's smiling for the first time in a long time. You just seem to feed off of his happy expression, trying not to overly swoon.

"Thanks, my friend," he says. You find yourself already moving closer, inch by inch. The torrent of water splatters along your shirt and down your shorts. "I guess I'll spend a long while in here."

"Sure," you comment. You take a deep breath. What... what am I going to do now?

"Can you help me with my wings, though?" he asks, turning his back to you. "I'll feel so much better if I clean those out."

"You bet!" Your hands already shoot out, almost acting my themselves, and you nestle your fingers into Soarin's feathers. The contrast with your skin feels amazing, especially with every inch of his body being soaking wet. You flow your fingers upwards through his wings, letting the water flow. You nudge your hands over and make two long scratches along his back, massaging the base of his wings. Your hands curl along his lower back, pressing against his cutie marks. You give his feathers one last run through, this time twittering your fingers and trying to tickle him.

You gaze at his face, turned back over towards you, all the while. Ripples of pleasure show on his handsome mug, and you love it. As you pull your hands back, he makes a sudden pouty expression. You almost want to make a "squee" noise.

"Thanks a lot, but I think I've got a problem," he says.

"Problem?" You don't like the sound of that.

"And, by the looks of things, you've got that problem too," he says as he turns around.

Your eyes run down Soarin's body, that beautiful sky-blue on dark blue figure that you seemed to fall in love with at first sight, over to his throbbing colthood. You take a gulp, seeing his thick thing pointed right up in the air twoards you. He makes a soft moan, a hoof touching against your shoulder. You glance over at yourself, and you discover your pitched tent on your shorts.

"I... I... I..." you stammer. You've always found Soarin' attractive in so many ways. He doesn't just have the taught yet sleek body, coated in muscles, of a champion flier coupled with the pretty face of Photo Finish's latest model. He also has an eternal inner sweetness, the sort of personality that would stop mid-trip to soar down and help an elderly mare across the street. He's like Fluttershy's heart in Dash's body, almost. You hardly care about him being a stallion and you being a human, you've heard about such parings in Appleoosa and elsewhere.

"Well, how about solving our problems together?" he asks.

You open your mouth up wide, not able to say anything.

He laughs. "I guess that last sentence has to be one of the stupidest pick-up lines ever," he comments, putting a hoof through his long, flowing mane.

"There's something... something..." you say, stepping over towards him. You click to turn the water off. He gazes at you intently, a look of surprise going over his face. You reach out with your hands, and he puts his hooves onto them.

"I don't want it like this."

"Like this?" He has no idea where you're going with this.

You sniff, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. He leans over closer as you hold your fingers upon his hooves. "Like this. Here, now. You've just broken up with Clover, finally. And, praise Celestia, I'm so happy for you. I just... you're not yourself. I don't want a one-night-stand. I don't want to be your comfort boyfriend, your fall-back." He seems to understand, nodding. "I don't want to be the afterthought, the post-break-up sex partner in disposable sex that doesn't mean anything."

"Meaning," he says. You spot a few tears popping up on him as well. He shivers in place, emotions long bottled-up starting to pour out.

"I want you," you say, and you put your hands and his hooves over to his chest at that last word.

"I know you do..."

"I won't take advantage of you. I will love it if you could see me tomorrow morning before work, coming over to Colgate's place. We could have some drinks. Talk. See what blossoms. And then, if things work out, I'll find out that you and I can have something serious," you say, crying at every other sentence. You finally wipe your nose and meet eye to eye, just mere inches from Soarin's face. "I can't prey upon you like this, when you've gone through what you've gone through."

What feels like an eternity passes, and Soarin' stands straight up. He takes a deep breath, quivering in place. "You're a gentlecolt... you... and..." he mutters.

"Gentlemen," you whisper, making a little laugh at the misplaced wording. Oh, seriously. I have morals. Morals-- why is that so unique?

Soarin' suddenly screams out a loud whine, hooves rubbing up along his cheeks. The tears just flow like rivers from his eyes. You can hardly think before he collapses down into your arms, his head buried in your embrace.

"It's been so hard," he groans. "So hard, so awful. Ever since I cheated. I had the world in the middle of my hooves before. But I wanted more." He pounds his hooves into your chest. "I had to have more. I thought I was invincible, with nopony able to catch me." He babbles on incoherently, letting it all out. You feel the load coming off of his spirit, and you feel so happy to just be there for him.

"It'll be okay," you mutter.

"I didn't ever listen to you. I just thought-- I just knew. Every last time she hit me, I thought that I deserved it. I was hitting myself. I knew that I deserved the punishment. I had to have her, only someone as pathetic as me could... and she..." he went on, his tears soaking up your shirt even more.

You just take in his words, but you finally have to stop him. "S-s-soarin'..." You push him a little bit away, your voice quivering. "I'm..." You feel shame swelling up inside of you, holding you down like an anchor. "I'm sorry that I left you here, going back to work. Left you back alone." You shift you head to the side, sniffing. "I'm sorry that I left you alone, day after day. Not getting involved."

Soarin' doesn't say anything in response. He simply sits down and taps you on the nose. It's such a cute guesture, especially under the circumstances. You think he mouths that "It's will be okay."

"It's okay," you mutter. You stand up.

He stands up as well, stepping out the bathtub and lining up right in front of you. You've never seen him looking so handsome, his cheeks blushing and his mane rubbing along his shoulders. "It will be okay if..." His hooves move down your chest, over to your sides. "You go out with me, maybe like tomorrow morning." He pushes you to the side, leading you out of the bathroom. "Maybe before work?"

"It's a date," you reply, smiling. Your emotions feel out of control, your brain bathing in hormones. It's different if he really loves me. It's different if I really love him. It's not just pointless break-up sex. It's not simply taking advantage.

"You know," he says, curling his head around your leg seductively, "I can already tell that it'll go well, and I can already tell that we'll hit it off together, wanting to go serious."

You believe him, thinking of the various times where you coincidentally happened to be in the same place having lunch and talked. Those are basically dates, right? "Right," you reply as he leads you to his bedroom.

"So, there wouldn't be a problem with taking our relationship to that level right now, would there be?" he says. You sit down on his bed.

If he loves me. "No, I guess there's no problem," you say. I need to know. I have to know if it's love. Love!

Soarin' leaps over into the bed and turns on his back, head up along the pillows. You see his soaking wet mane and tail spreading out into the sheets, his hooves prancing idly in the air. You feel yourself throbbing even harder within your shorts, screaming at you to get started, but your heart feels incomplete.

"Soarin'," you moan, getting up on the bed. You perch yourself right above the handsome stallion, hands shoved down inside his moist mane. You lean forward, your legs rubbing up against his. His wet fur feels truly wonderful against your bare skin.

"I love you," you whisper. You close your eyes, and you kiss him. His lips meet yours, and the emotions come to a boil. His hooves migrate to your chest as you make out. His head tilts up and down, side to side, and around in a little circle dozens upon dozens of times. You feel bursts of pleasure going through your head, and your hands slide over to the back of his head, your face still buried in his flowing mane.

He moans. You moan back, feeling his tongue tease along the bottom of your mouth. You don't really know what to do, able to count on one hand the mostly unhappy times you've gotten this far. Still, you take in his wonderful scent and tender touch, savoring every moment. After a torrent of quick kisses, bodies rubbing up and down from the tops of your heads to the bottom of your feet, you pull back.

"I love you," he whispers back, smiling. You see his cheeks blushing, covering up the horrible bruises from before. You feel something deep in your soul, almost like a key fitting into a lock. He means it. You take a deep breath. He does.

You swing around, your head moving down his neck over to his chest. You make big, sloppy kisses as your hands massage his sides. He loves it, panting hard. You finish up the kisses, head buried in his thighs. Your hands travel from his wonderful, muscular legs up to his flanks. You glance up at his face, and his anticipation-filled expression looks absolutely adorable.

"Y-your going to k-kiss my... colthood?" he mutters, trying hard to breathe.

You nod. You try not to show your nervousness-- having never done this to anyone else. You'd only ever been on the receiving end a few times, when your ex-girlfriend was in an unusually good mood.

Your fingers nestle around his sack. He moans softly, and you slide your head over. You gaze at his colthood, mouth watering. You slurp upwards, just like with a huge ice cream cone. He lets out a muffled scream, and you pause. Well, well, well... I suppose poor Soarin' has one of those 'hair triggers' or whatever girls call it. You run your tongue around the tip, amping up as Soarin's hooves touch your back so seductively. Your fingers massage along the base as you slurp repeatedly up and down the tip.

He's loving it, pulses of pure pleasure rocketing up his sides. You use a little teeth, scraping gently along the edges of his colthood's tip. He shivers, making a feminine kind of coo. Well, more of that, then? I guess that's how you do it. You kiss the tip several times, hands pumping along his colthood. You thrust your head forward, taking Soarin's rod entirely into your mouth.

His legs buckle, and you can feel the intense joy coursing through him. You slurp his colthood inside your mouth, hands pressing against the sides. You use your teeth as you lean up and down. He can hardly stand it, his hooves wiggling along your shoulders as his pre-cum bubbles out.

You throw your head back and take a little breath before you go again. As your lips go over his colthood again, bathed in that wonderfully masculine scent of a strong young pegasus, your fingers clutch his sack. You move down, slurping inch by amazing inch, until you take it in as far as you can go. You slide your body forward and pull upwards, taking your sweet time. You finally clutch his colthood tightly in both hands, feeling him right up against the line, and you give the tip one last passionate kiss.

He screams, so loud that they can hear it across the street, and his body shivers uncontrollably. Soarin's thick cream pours into your mouth, flowing down your throat. You shoot upwards, trying to breathe. You swallow, feeling rather weird. It doesn't taste bad at all, but it didn't really taste as good as you had expected either. Stupid lying ex-girlfriend!

"You swallowed," he moans, his mind floating up into heaven. You stand up over him once again, gazing both at his limp colthood, dripping a tiny bit of his cream upon his left leg, as well as his wonderfully satisfied face.

You shrug. He pants as he sits up in the bed, hooves digging into the sheets. You feel rather confused as he moves his head over to your belly. "So, do you... uh..."

He tries to think about what to say, but he gives up and just slants his head. He bites the top of your shorts and pulls them down along with your briefs. He gazes at your manhood, eyes bulging.

"I guess you've never seen a human's... uh... organ," you mutter.

"It's all one color? That's so weird!" Soarin' calls out. You cough. He freezes for a moment before putting on a sheepish expression. "Uh, I mean... it's fine."

Your thing sticks out in the air, throbbing, but you really don't know what to do. "Soarin', uh," you say, twiddling your fingers together, "I was hoping that maybe you'd... you'd... let me treat you like the girl then, now."

You want to kick yourself for sounding so awkward, but he understands. You gaze upon the stallion's beautiful body as he rolls around on his back again, this time with his flanks curled up in the air. He looks incredibly nervous, cheeks flush. You move forward, trying to look confident as your eyes focus along his waggling tail over to his plot. His tail seems so incredibly cute, almost calling out to you.

"Do the parts... fit?" he mutters. He looks shocked at himself for saying those words out loud.

"Yeah," you mutter without really thinking. In a way, you feel honored to be both his first guy as well as his first human. You also wonder if you'll be left sorrily disappointed in a moment, pressing your manhood down along his thighs. You run your fingers through his tail. He quivers with anticipation. As you take a gulp, you gaze at his tailhole, a pretty blue thing that already seems soaking wet just like the rest of his body.

You move your fingers down and press in a little. Soarin' moans, head going to his side and biting a pillow. You see him pick the pillow up between his hooves, eyeing your every move. You massage your fingers a little inside his tailhole; you can't believe how snug and cuddly it feels. You pull them out, clutching his tail with them. Your manhood seems wet enough to start, and you can't hesitate another second. You close your eyes as you poise your thing right against his tailhole, hands now locking with his hooves.

*Thrust!*

You let out a deep groan as you push forwards. Ripples of sheer pleasure course up your sides, making your hands jiggle. You shift yourself deeper, inch by heavenly inch. His plot feels incredible, even more snug, soft, and tender than you could have possibly imagined. You nudge all the way to the base, feeling his sack rubbing along your leg. Your old girlfriends have nothing on his handsome stallion.

Soarin', for his part, sputters with tingles of joy. You start to pull out, insides overwhelmed by the pleasure, and you barely keep yourself from falling right on top of him, hands popping onto his shoulders. You take yourself almost completely outside of his warm body, and you savor his intense panting as his head buries into the pillow.

"Soarin', please," you mutter, hands moving over to his neck. He shifts the pillow over, gazing eye to eye with you.

You shove yourself forwards again and you kiss. You can't believe the passion, the total abandonment as his mouth seems to become yours and vise versa. You quiver as he holds you in snugly, your manhood pouring pure pleasure through your sides. You know that you should take your time, going through slowly. You pull back a little, loving those moans of his. You're tired. He's tired. You've both had very long days, and you've both waited long lifetimes for a true love-- where you could give yourself over mind, body, and spirit to someone else-- as well.

Your thrusts become something animal, something intense. He keeps on kissing you; it feels almost as good as what's between your legs for both of you. You know you can barely hold it in much longer, body building up higher and higher with pleasures you've never known. He knows as well, and you feel him curl his wonderfully wet legs behind your back as well as nudge his wings over to your sides.

You pound him all the way to the base, his sack bouncing against your legs. He breaks the kiss, letting out yelps just short of screams. His face seems so totally adorable as he flips from side to side, blushing profusely. Your manhood flows into him time and time again, the wave after wave of bliss inside your mind coming right up to the line. He leans his head back, mouth opening up wide. You start your one last thrust, hearing him make a smooth gasp rather than a full shout.

You smother you face into his, kissing passionately, as you pump right inside of him. His legs against your back press you in even deeper, his wings bathing your sides with dozens upon dozens of little feathery kisses. You feel jolts of sheer joy course through both your bodies, and your manhood pulses inside his amazing snugness. Your hips thrust up and your hands grind against his chest, both of you zooming right over the line.

You melt inside of Soarin', pouring out very last drop inside of him. Your head moves up against his, your mind covered in endless bursts of pleasure. He makes a torrent of gasps, completely overwhelmed. You'd marvel at how long you lasted under the circumstances, but you can't make a consious thought at all. You just shift over to the side, collapsing on the soaking wet sheets besides Soarin'.

You hear your warm cream dripping out of Soarin's plot, his front hooves nudging against his chest. Rather than say a world, you simply snuggle over to his side, bodies locking from your toes tickling the ends of his back hooves to your face buried inside his cheek. You feel his mane rubbing all along your neck and shoulders, the fur gently embracing your bare skin so wonderfully. You can't picture yourself ever feeling this good ever again.

Soarin' nudges just slightly upwards, gazing at your longing expression. You see his eyes droop as he smiles. His front hooves slide up and down your hands for a little while. You yawn as his head curls a few inches over, Soarin' flying off into dreamland. You grip him even closer, his wings wrapping your like a blanket. Finally, you close your eyes as well, making a happy sigh.

To Be Continued...