Room For Rent

Chapters

A Lucky Meeting
A Lucky Dinner
Too much luck?
Luck of the Draw
Lucky Streak

A Lucky Meeting

Lucky Charm jerked awake with a start as a loud, resounding crash echoed downstairs.

The stallion stared at the ceiling for several long moments, sleepily trying to process what he had heard, pushing unkempt green sleep-mane out of his eyes.

Carefully, he rolled over onto his side, extricating himself with some difficulty from the tangled grasp of twisted blankets. Once free of the fabrics, he dropped carefully onto his hooves, stepping towards the door.

“Hello?” Lucky called down the stairs, squinting into the gloom. The moon shone far overhead, casting shafts of meek light down through the skylights. But it wasn’t enough light to see a great deal of detail.

There was a faint groan from somewhere downstairs, and Lucky frowned to himself, staring down the stairs.

Reaching the door on the second floor from where he suspected the noises were coming from, he frowned deeply, lifting his hoof to awkwardly knock on it.

It was the only room in the entire house that he had no idea what was behind. For the last six months, he had been renting it out to a mystery guest.

Lucky was, fortunately and unfortunately, extremely lucky. He had resigned himself at an early age to never abusing his ‘gift’, but had, at a party, accidentally entered himself into the Cloudsdale lottery. And of course he had won the first prize of more bits than he could ever conceive of spending.

Or at least, that’s how it had first seemed.

The house had been his first major purchase. Paid for for the next three decades, he wouldn’t have to spend a bit on it until he was going grey in the mane. Or so he thought. ‘Hidden’ charges that he had overlooked began to build up, and his decidedly lacklustre ability for any kind of discretion in his spending habits had led to him racking up quite a debt. In desperation, he had tried to rent out one of the rooms to get some kind of income going.

That was when his mystery guest had showed up, dressed in a dark cloak, offering him twelve months worth of rent right off the bat.

After some hesitation, Lucky had accepted.

All he knew about his guest was that she was female.

And so, for six months, Lucky didn’t know what lay behind the door. He had respected the privacy of his guest. He hadn’t even noticed her presence before. She was quiet, clean and came and went through the window, he assumed.

“A-are you okay in there?” Lucky asked, his voice cracking slightly with nervousness.

A pained groan greeted him.

“I’m coming in!” Lucky announced loudly.

Lucky reached for the door handle, and it wouldn’t budge. Locked.

Snorting once, Lucky reached into the alcove beside the door, groping around behind one of the statuettes there until he found a key. He inserted it into the lock, twisting it and then pushing the door open.

The meagre light of the moon coming in from the open window barely illuminated the bookcases that lined the walls. Lucky didn’t know where they had come from. They weren’t there when he had rented out the room. One corner of the room was given over to some kind of display stand, a blank pony body to place clothing upon. A Wonderbolt uniform was stretched across this one, with a pair of goggles sitting on top of its bare, smooth face.

A bed sat in the other corner not occupied by bookshelves, and the bookshelves themselves were littered with books in various positions. It was untidy and disorderly, and Lucky very much doubted that any of the books were kept in alphabetical order.

But the main focal point of the room was the mare, in a Wonderbolt uniform, laying on her side in a pool of vomit.

Lucky scrunched his nose up as the vile smell assaulted his senses. His eyes immediately began to water, and he felt the urge for himself to throw up in kind rising and clawing at the back of his throat.

“H-hey, are you okay?” Lucky asked, gagging faintly and trying to breathe through his mouth.

A faint mumbled groan was his only response.

“Are you some kind of cosplayer?” Lucky asked uncertainly, even as he cringed and stepped closer to her, ears splaying back. Hesitantly, he reached for her shoulder. “Can you stand?”

“Do I look like I c… c... “ the mare trailed off, stuffing a hoof against her muzzle and then heaving, throwing up against her hoof and making a mess of the suit covering it.

“Oh yuck…” Lucky winced, cringing deeply. Taking a shallow breath through his mouth, he stepped in behind the mare and wrapped his hooves around her, tugging her upright.

The mare swayed unsteadily, and almost toppled, but Lucky steadied her with a hard shove of his shoulders, giving a dismayed glance at the disgusting bile that was getting on his wings.

“F-fuck rookie… don’t be so… so…” the mare swayed again, dropping onto her rump and looking like she was going to throw up again.

“No! Stop!” Lucky protested, waving a hoof in front of her face for attention. “Stop! Look at me!”

The mare gave him a long stare, unblinking, and unseeing. She had very pretty eyes.

“Focus on me. Just look at me. We’re getting you to the bathroom, okay?”

The mare stared at him, head tilting slowly to the left, her body starting to lean.

Lucky straightened her up, shaking his head and then pushing underneath her, supporting her further. “C’mon, lean on me. Sunshine and puppies. Just think of sunshine and puppies!”

“W-what… what are you talking about, rookie?” the mare queried weakly.

“Focus,” Lucky said quietly, staring into her eyes seriously, even as he began to walk her towards the door.

Awkwardly, the mare leaned against him, and he pushed and tugged her as best he could out the door and down the hallway. Eventually, he got her to the bathroom, and then quickly slipped away from her, holding her at hooves-length and nudging her towards the toilet.

The mare staggered slightly, and then blinked at the toilet, before stumbling to it and throwing up into it violently.

Lucky watched for a moment in almost abject horror, before he quickly stepped over to the sink and began to vigorously splash water onto his neck and chest, scrubbing off the mess that had been spread onto his fur. “Ugh…”

“Urrrgh…” the mare groaned, swaying heavily, before resting her chin on the edge of the toilet.

Gagging slightly, Lucky crept over to the mare, brushing her mane out of her face with a hoof, and then delicately holding it away from her face. “Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. Just take deep breaths.”

After a solid half hour of watching the mare throw up into the toilet, and being subjected to the fetid stench of vomit and stale sweat, Lucky was just about at his breaking point. He left the mare with her chin on the edge of the toilet, and then went to the bathroom window, shoving his head out of it entirely and trying his best not to throw up himself. His dinner was trying very hard to make a reappearance, and he was desperately trying not to view the encore.

After taking several gulps of fresh air, he withdrew from the bathroom entirely, heading to the kitchen and grabbing a pitcher of water and a glass, bringing it to the bathroom. He set the glass on the edge of the toilet, filling it with water and then offering it to the mare.

The mare groaned softly, but took the water almost greedily, shoving the glass against her mouth hard enough to chip a tooth and downing half of it one greedy, far-too-large gulp. A splash of water left her mouth, and Lucky leaned backwards, wincing, as she threw up again.

On the second try, however, she managed to keep some of the water down, groaning pitifully and then whimpering, the fabric around the eyeholes of her suit matted with tears.

“You are a mess,” Lucky stated.

“And you are… you are… you are green,” the mare protested, pushing at him weakly with a hoof.

Lucky winced slightly at that, having no real comeback. He was green.

“Good lord, did you drink an entire keg?” Lucky asked bluntly, looking the mare up and down. “You look like you threw up and then swam in it.”

“Don’t drink,” the mare said shortly, before retching again, but this time, she didn’t throw up.

“Look, we gotta get you out of that suit,” Lucky said, making a motion with a hoof.

A faint groan left the mare as her only response.

Lucky frowned deeply, scrunching up his face as he stepped closer and then looked intently at the suit, trying to find the zipper.

“Front,” the mare said, voice muffled by the bowl.

Lucky nodded, awkwardly slipping a hoof up between the mare’s forelegs to find the end of the zipper, and then drawing it down her chest and across her belly. He paused halfway down her form, and released it. “Could you, uh… get it the rest of the way?”

“Fucking rookie…” the mare muttered, lifting her own hoof and leaning so far to the side that Lucky gripped one of her wings to hold her steady. She pushed the zipper the rest of the way down, to the very end that rested just in front of the visible mound of her cunny.

Lucky blinked once as he noticed it, but was far too close to gagging and throwing up to be remotely aroused. He began to tug the flight suit from around her shoulders, urging her to slip her hooves out of it. It was clammy and cold from the stale sweat on the mare’s body, and was thoroughly unpleasant.

Carefully, he rolled the suit down to her rump, and then paused uncertainly. “Uh…”

“Rookie…” came the muffled jab, even as she lifted her rump and pushed the flight suit down over her rump and tail, tugging the fiery length of it through the hole in the suit. The suit pooled between her hindlegs, exposing her body to the stallion behind her.

Lucky wrinkled his nose, ducking down to grab the flight suit and toss it into the sink. He then pushed the mare sideways, carefully, towards the shower.

After a little bit of confusion and resistance, the mare allowed herself to be led to the shower, until Lucky turned on the hot water and stepped in with her.

A low groan of delight left the mare, and she dropped onto her stomach, letting the water wash down over her fiery mane, slicking it down and hopefully cleaning some of the vomit from the ends of the strands.

“This would be mildly sexy if I didn’t feel like throwing up,” Lucky admitted, making a face as he picked up a bar of soap, pushing it towards the mare across the bottom of the shower. “Clean yourself up a bit.”

“Not… not gonna help me?” the mare slurred.

“No, no, not a chance,” Lucky said with a strained laugh, shaking his head. He spread his wings slightly, a disgusted look on his face as he scrubbed at the portions of his body that had come into contact with the mare.

“Am I really that disgusting?” the mare asked, forlorn.

“Sweet Celestia, yes,” Lucky scoffed, giving a shudder. “At least, the contents of your stomach are. Especially when they’re all over me…”

“Sorry… I’m terrible…” the mare said, sniffing faintly.

“Oh… oh please don’t cry…” Lucky said, hanging his head slightly and giving a long-suffering sigh.

“B-but I’m terrible…” the mare whimpered, starting to sob brokenly.

Lucky gave a helpless groan, resting his head against the cool tile wall.

“I don’t even know where you’re going to sleep,” Lucky stated, scratching behind his ear with a hoof.

“Sleep here…” the mare muttered.

The two ponies were still in the shower, and the mare’s mane covered most of her face. The faint, but pervasive smell of vomit was still noticeable intermittently.

“You can’t sleep in the shower,” Lucky stated flatly, shaking his head. “C’mon, you can sleep on the couch in my room.”

“Not bed?” the mare slurred, gazing at him.

Lucky shook his head firmly. “No, no, not a single chance in tartarus are you sleeping in my bed. You will be sleeping on the couch with a bucket close at hoof in case you want to be sick again.”

“Fine,” the mare muttered, before groaning heavily and slumping against the shower wall.

“C’mon, let’s get you dry and warm,” Lucky said, checking himself over to make sure all traces of her sick was off his fur, rising to his hooves and then stepping out of the shower, grabbing a pair of towels for them both.

A low, faint groan left the mare as she awoke, and her eyes opened for a solid quarter of a second before snapping closed again as they were assaulted by the weak rays of morning light.

“Oh… oh sweet Celestia, my head…” she whimpered, swaying slightly and then going limp once more, feebly tugging the blanket up over her face.

“Good morning, my fine alcoholic friend,” Lucky said, placing a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice on the arm of the chair in front of her.

The mare sniffed slightly, nose poking out from under the blanket. She carefully took the orange juice, sipping it once or twice, and then downing it in one go, before groaning faintly again.

“Head hurts?” Lucky asked sympathetically.

“Pounding… pain…” the mare muttered, groaning faintly. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Lucky queried.

“Just a… a blur. I only remember showing up at the party,” she responded brokenly.

Lucky raised an eyebrow at that, before shrugging slightly to himself. “Well… I found you passed out on the floor in the room downstairs in a pool of your own vomit. Quite disgusting, actually.”

The mare wrinkled her nose deeply. “Oh… that’s… disgusting. Was it in my mane?’

“I think we managed to get it out after some scrubbing,” Lucky said casually.

“Scrubbing?” came the blank query.

“Scrubbing. I pushed you into the bathroom and shower since you were throwing up. Your flight suit looks pretty ruined. And you probably paid quite a lot for it. Looks like actual Wonderbolt material. You some kind of cosplayer?” Lucky asked, lifting the edge of the blanket slightly.

“I’m Spitfire, you moron!” the mare hissed, tugging the blanket back down.

“So… my mystery guest, who I never see come or go, and has been renting out a room for six months now, is Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts?” Lucky asked dubiously. “Look, I’m all for character acting, but this is sad. I found you passed out in a pool of your own vomit, for Celestia’s sake. At least a Wonderbolt would be able to hold their alcohol.”

“Someone must have slipped me some without telling me…” Spitfire muttered darkly, voice muffled by the blankets. “When I find Soarin, I’m going to wring his bloody neck.”

“Yes, yes, sure you are,” Lucky said airily. He nudged her side with a hoof. “C’mon, get up when you’re ready. You have to help me clean up down there.”

“Clean… up?” Spitfire asked blankly. “Do you… know who I am?”

“You’re Spitfire,” Lucky said with a certain tone of condescension.

Spitfire stared at him for several long seconds, eyes widening slightly at the stallion, confused and almost stupefied.

“Now, you made a mess in my home and you’re going to help clean it up. Your rent agreement does not contain a clause for a maid,” Lucky said, waving a hoof and turning about with a flick of a green tail, heading back downstairs.

Spitfire watched him go, stunned.

Lucky gagged faintly as he scrubbed at the floor with a thick, stiff-bristled brush. A bucket of water sat next to him, with a faint swirled rainbow colouration in it. It smelled faintly of sunflowers and daisies.

Spitfire paused awkwardly in the doorway, a hoof lifting to brush her mane back, her wings giving an anxious little flick and quiver. “Uhhh… do you… have another brush?”

“Over there,” Lucky said, motioning with his nose towards the top of a bookshelf. Another scrubbing brush was resting next to a Daring Doo novel. “You do a lot of reading?”

“Uh… yeah…” Spitfire said awkwardly, picking up the brush and wrinkling her nose deeply, almost gagging at the powerful stench of drying vomit. “I l-like to… to you know… read books and stuff. Between shows.”

“So a cosplayer and a connoisseur of the writing arts?” Lucky asked, even as he rose and stepped over to the open window, hanging his head out it and taking several deep breaths of fresh air.

Spitfire joined him a few moments later, panting heavily and looking like she was going to throw up again. “I already told you, I’m not a bloody cosplayer!”

Lucky raised an eyebrow, and then bopped her nose lightly with a hoof. “I don’t believe you and never will. And sweet Celestia what did you drink? It’s like you threw up, drank it, and then threw it back up again when it was good and fermented.”

“I’m going to kill Soarin,” Spitfire panted, taking deep breaths through her mouth. “He gave me alcohol. He insisted that he get me my drinks… always trying to make me ‘lighten up’,” she growled darkly.

“He probably thought you were the real Spitfire,” Lucky said blithely.

Spitfire gave him a long, bewildered stare.

“So… I’m guessing you come and go through this window so nobody sees you?” Lucky asked simply, tapping the windowsill with a hoof.

“Uh… yeah…” Spitfire responded awkwardly, looking away. “I kinda needed a place to hide away from… everypony.”

“How odd,” Lucky said, scratching his chin with a hoof. “I thought cosplayers lived for the fantasy of who they’re playing as. So you’d want to be constantly in the limelight, wouldn’t you?”

Spitfire gave him a long, blank stare.

“I took the liberties of taking your suit to the drycleaners this morning,” Lucky said with a jerk of his head towards the front door. “You owe me fifty bits, by the way.”

“Fifty bits?” Spitfire asked, “Couldn’t you just put it on my… Oh.”

“Account?” Lucky asked with a faint smirk. “You don’t have an account with me. You paid up-front for twelve months of room rent in a very untraceable banker’s cheque. Trust me, I asked around to see if I could find out who owned it.”

“But you never looked into the room yourself?” Spitfire asked blankly. “I would have known if you did. I had things propped against the door.”

“Yeah, I never looked into the room myself. Figured I didn’t wanna know,” Lucky said with a shrug of his shoulders. “But had I know it was inhabited infrequently over the last six months by a very cute cosplayer, I would have barged in much sooner, trust me.”

Spitfire cleared her throat, looking away. “I never did… uh… thank you.”

“No, you did not,” Lucky said simply.

“Well… thank you,” Spitfire said carefully. “Thank you for… you know… all of this. You’re not going to… tell anypony that I’m in this room, are you?”

“Yes, I’m sure I need to tell everyone I know that I have a cosplayer staying in my home,” Lucky said, rolling his eyes.

Spitfire looked away again, nodding awkwardly. “Yeah… just a cosplayer. Nothing to tell anypony. Well… if there’s anything I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask?”

“Have dinner with me,” Lucky said instantly.

Spitfire baulked. “W-what?”

“Have dinner with me,” Lucky said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I won a coupon for a free dinner at a very nice restaurant, but it’s for two ponies. Won’t accept single diners.”

“Now that, is a lie,” Spitfire said, turning to face him, eyes narrowing. “I know for fact that a restaurant wouldn’t turn down a single diner if it’s a coupon for a double. What’s the real reason?”

“Well, I don’t get out a whole lot,” Lucky admitted, head tilting slightly to the left as he gave an easy shrug and a wry smile. “I don’t want to sit at a table, alone. Especially not in a fancy, upscale restaurant. So I haven’t had any real reason to use the coupon. Plus… you’re cute. I’ve always been a fan of Spitfire. She has a really nice colouration, so looking like her doesn’t detract at all.”

Spitfire gave him another long, dubious stare. “You’re not really this stupid, are you?” she asked, exasperated.

“Smart enough to know a fake Spitfire when I see one,” Lucky said with a grin, watching her brightly. “So, you gonna tell me your real name, or will I have to think one up?”

“You’re going to have to think one up,” Spitfire said carefully.

“I think I’ll call you… C.J. Cosplay Junkie,” Lucky said with a firm nod. “So… dinner tomorrow night, be in your room, fancy clothes optional, at sundown, C.J.?”

Spitfire gave him a guarded stare. “Ponies will recognize me…”

“Good,” Lucky said with a bright smile. “They’ll think I’m with the real Spitfire. And that’s a score!”

Slowly shaking her head, Spitfire just continued to stare at him.

Lucky jerked his head back over his shoulder, giving a long-suffering sigh. “Well, time for us to get back to work. We’ve got a lot of scrubbing to do.”

“Going to murder Soarin…” Spitfire said darkly, turning away from the window.

Lucky raised a hoof. “Wait here a moment!”

Spitfire turned back to the window, sucking in a deep breath of the fresh outside air while Lucky bounded down the stairs.

Lucky came back a few minutes later, holding a pair of washcloths in his hoof. He offered on to Spitfire. “I drizzled some vanilla over them, put it over your nose to block the smell.”

Spitfire nodded, taking the cloth and putting it over her nose, inhaling and then giving a sigh of relief. “That’s better.” Her voice was muffled by the cloth.

“Time to scrub some more, C.J.,” Lucky said, motioning towards the floor, picking up the brush.

Spitfire nodded, peering sideways at Lucky, picking up her own brush. She smiled faintly behind her cloth.

A Lucky Dinner

Lucky looked himself over in the mirror, turning this way and that, giving his mane a little bit of a push with a hoof.

He had never really liked how he looked. Green from hoof to mane. Green coat, green mane, green tail. All various shades of dark green. Even his cutie mark was green: A four-leaf clover.

Humming thoughtfully, he pushed his mane out of his eyes again, before frowning deeply. His mane was nowhere near as styled or pretty as Spitfire’s. But it would have to do.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, looking at the time, nodding to himself. He turned on his hooves, heading for the door.

Spitfire jerked slightly at the knock on the door, her wings giving a slow flex and clench as she tried to work out the nervousness. She slid a bookmark in her book, and then placed it aside. She rose to her hooves, and tiptoed over to the door, carefully opening it.

“You look nice, C.J.,” Lucky said, looking her up and down.

Spitfire gave an awkward grimace. “I uh… I didn’t do anything different.”

“I noticed,” Lucky said generously, smiling at her brightly. “Is that your natural colouration?”

“Uh… My mane highlights are a brightened a little bit,” Spitfire admitted, rubbing a hoof through her mane self-consciously. “But other than that, yeah. All-natural.”

“You lucked out,” Lucky said with a slight nod, looking her up and down again. “You look exactly like Spitfire!”

Spitfire facehoofed, giving a long sigh. “You’re not going to let this drop, are you?”

“Not until you admit you’re a cosplayer!” Lucky said with a happy smile, head tilting slightly to the left. “Now, you ready?”

“Why wouldn’t I be ready?” Spitfire asked with a long sigh.

“Because you’re female,” Lucky pointed out calmly. “Notoriously bad at being ready for dinner-dates and whatnot!”

Spitfire glowered at him. “You realise this is going to suck, right?” she asked bluntly. “The moment they hear that the great Spitfire is in the building, they’re going to all go stupid and ruin my lovely evening with my eccentric, incredibly dense landlord.”

“It’ll be fun, c’mon!” Lucky said cheerfully, turning on his hooves and heading downstairs.

Spitfire gave him an awkward stare, before shaking her head and following after him, closing the door behind her.

“Do… do you think… think that you… could possibly s-slow down?!” Lucky asked between ragged pants, wings beating hard at the air, sweat pouring down his forehead.

Spitfire glanced back at him, looking chagrined for a moment, giving a sheepish smile as she slowed her pace. “Sorry, used to setting the pace in training flights,” she explained.

“Sweet Celestia you’re fast,” Lucky panted heavily. “You should totally try out for the Wonderbolts. The whole Spitfire-worship thing you got going… you’d be able to meet her!”

An awkward silence stretched between them as Spitfire looked away.

“You ever been to this restaurant before?” Lucky asked once the silence had started to get deafening.

“Can’t say I have,” Spitfire admitted, frowning slightly. “I try to stay out of public.”

“Don’t want people catching on that you’re not really Spitfire?” Lucky teased.

Spitfire gave him a long, blank stare.

Spitfire and Lucky back-winged to a neat stop in front of the restaurant. Lucky was a little bit less ordered than Spitfire in his landing, and paused for several long moments to compose himself, panting faintly.

“You gonna be okay?” Spitfire asked, concerned.

“Just not used to Wonderbolt speeds,” Lucky admitted, breathless.

Already, ponies were starting to stare.

Lucky grinned as he noticed the ponies staring, and waved a hoof at Spitfire excitedly. “Spitfire! This is Spitfire!”

The ponies stared at him, and then Spitfire, and then at each other, before guardedly going back to their conversation.

“What are you doing?” Spitfire hissed. “Is this some kind of show to you?!”

“Shhhh,” Lucky pressed, placing a hoof over Spitfire’s mouth to keep her from talking. “Must let everyone know that Spitfire is in the building!”

“You are an asshole,” Spitfire growled, glowering at him, before pushing past him roughly towards the front door of the restaurant. “Let’s just get this over with.”

A few minutes later, Lucky and Spitfire were seated on one of the balcony seating areas, overlooking a very picturesque view of the ground far below Cloudsdale.

Lucky peered around the table, and then waved for the attention of a waiter. “Waiter!” he called.

A waiter picked his way between the tables, coming to stand in front of them, glancing sideways at Spitfire, his curiosity obviously piqued.

“Who is that?” Lucky asked, pointing at Spitfire with a goofy smile.

Spitfire shrank down in her seat, grimacing.

“That would be Spitfire,” the waiter said, confused.

“Yes!” Lucky said, grinning from ear-to-ear. “That’s Spitfire! I’m totally on a date with Spitfire! Make sure everypony knows!” he said with a rapid, earnest nod. “Look, are there any photographers around that can take some pictures?”

The waiter looked guardedly from Lucky, to the rapidly receding face of Spitfire as she tried to hide under the table. “I uh… I believe I might have seen one or two in the lobby earlier, chasing after Sapphire Shores.”

“Make sure they know that Spitfire is here!” Lucky said with an earnest nod, before leaning over closer to conspiratorial whisper to the waiter: “She’s not really Spitfire, she’s a cosplayer… just… play along and I’ll make sure there’s something in it for you.”

The waiter perked up at that, giving a sudden bright smile. “Oh, oh yes! Indeed! I shall see that they are notified, sir. What will you be drinking tonight, sir?”

“I’m rather fond of the red wine,” Lucky said.

“And you, Madam Spitfire?” the waiter asked, turning to her.

“Just water, please…” Spitfire mumbled awkwardly.

“I will return with your drinks,” the waiter said, stalking away rather hurriedly.

“I’m going to kill you,” Spitfire said bluntly.

“We haven’t even had the photo-shoot yet!” Lucky said happily, bouncing in his chair slightly.

Spitfire just groaned faintly, hiding her face under her hooves. “Wake me up when it’s over.”

“Here’s the cameras!” Lucky gushed, pointing with a hoof towards the two photographers who had been directed towards them. He waved them over with a hoof. “C’mon! Come get some pictures of Spitfire!”

The two photographers gave dubious glances back and forth between Lucky and Spitfire as they arrived at the table, and one of them gave a half-hearted snapshot of the awkward-looking Spitfire half-hidden behind the table.

“Excuse me, but… are you the… real Spitfire?” one of them asked carefully, giving Lucky a suspicious stare.

“Yes…” Spitfire said, giving a resigned sigh.

Lucky pursed his lips, waving his hooves angrily. “Look, C.J., do you really think that Spitfire herself would just say ‘...yes...’ in the most resigned, completely lame way possible? It’s Spitfire!” he hissed, glowering at her. “Now try it again, with more passion this time. ‘Yes!’, this is how a Wonderbolt Captain talks!”

Spitfire gave him a long, perplexed stare. “U-uhh… Yes! Yes! I am the real Spitfire! Why do you even ask? Isn’t it obvious?”

“Better!” Lucky said with a bright smile.

The two photographers looked between Lucky and Spitfire, and then exchanged a glance, before they both turned and walked away.

A silence stretched out between them as Lucky read the menu.

“How did you do that?” Spitfire asked, her voice squeaking slightly. “H-how?!”

“Magic,” Lucky said, grinning at her and wiggling his hoof in a mystifying fashion.

“That… that was… that was amazing,” Spitfire whispered. “They just… walked away! They didn’t even take any pictures!”

“Miss Spitfire?” the waiter asked as he returned, placing the water down in front of her. He bowed carefully. “May I have your autograph?”

“Certainly,” Spitfire said automatically, taking the pen the waiter offered and scrawling her signature across a napkin for him. The waiter took the napkin, stuffing it into a pocket of his vest and then placing down the glass of wine he carried in front of Lucky.

“Are you both ready to order dinner?” the waiter asked, looking between them.

“Sure are!” Lucky said with a grin, “You ready, Spitfire?”

Spitfire sipped at her glass of water, chasing a pea across her plate with a fork. “I… I don’t believe you pulled this off.”

“Pulled off what?” Lucky asked simply, finishing off the last of his mashed potato, an ear perking up at her.

“You convinced everypony around us that I’m some sort of… cosplayer!” Spitfire whispered ecstatically. “I haven’t been able to have a dinner out like this without being molested in years. Even the waiter when he asked for my autograph… he just… he acted like he was doing it to be nice, not because I’m famous!”

“Well, you are a cosplayer, so that helps,” Lucky said airily, waving a hoof dismissively.

Spitfire gave a long, exasperated sigh. “So… why do they call you ‘Lucky’? What’s your special talent?”

“My special talent is… luck,” Lucky admitted, frowning slightly down at his plate. “Absolute, unadulterated luck.”

“That’s… a really odd talent,” Spitfire said, frowning slightly. “Not really marketable.”

“I also sell good-luck charms,” Lucky said with a slight grin. “They really work!”

“You know that lucky charms are just a device predicated on twisting confirmation bias to scam the gullible, right?” Spitfire asked, giving him a long, flat stare.

Lucky held up his hooves. “Hey, hey, slow down with the big words! Anyway, they really work with me! I’m lucky myself, right? So lucky charms work when I make them! I call the concept ‘transient luck’.”

“Transient luck?” Spitfire asked blankly. “Short-termed?”

“Erm… doesn’t ‘transient’ mean ‘transferred’?” Lucky asked after a moment.

“No, ‘transferred’ means ‘transferred’,” Spitfire corrected.

Lucky’s ears splayed back, and he gave a sheepish smile. “Well! Transferred luck, then! I am stupidly lucky. All the time. Every time. I can’t turn it off. And so… the way I see it: If I made a lucky charm for somepony, it has to work!”

“No, no it really doesn’t,” Spitfire responded, mystified. “Even if you are lucky, why would it transfer some of that luck?”

“Because I’m so lucky!” Lucky said with a grin, watching her intently for a long moment. “Wouldnt it be really unlucky if I made a charm for someone and it didn’t make them lucky. Because then they’d be sad at me… or mad at me. Or they wouldn’t give me repeat business!”

“That… makes a twisted kind of sense,” Spitfire admitted, frowning slightly. “So… how do you know you’re lucky?”

“Little things,” Lucky said, frowning slightly. “Big things, too. Everything, really. You, for instance.”

“Me?” Spitfire asked, blinking once.

“Well, think about it. I won the lottery. By accident! I was buying myself a soda, and they didn’t have any change. So they gave me a two-bit lottery ticket instead of change. And I agreed because I was thirsty. So thirsty. For no good reason. Anyway, that was the winning ticket. Won so many bits. What are the odds, huh?”

“Pretty damn low,” Spitfire admitted.

“And then, when bills started piling up, I found the one roommate willing to pay twelve months of rent in advance for a single room, that is neat, tidy, quiet, never seen, never heard. Before yesterday, I didn’t even know who was in there. And you’re absolutely smoking hot and you agreed to have dinner with me and my crazy scheme to convince the waiters and ponies around that you’re a cosplayer actually worked,” Lucky rattled off, giving her a long, flat stare. “And that is luck. All of that.”

“Not all of it,” Spitfire said with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “I didn’t agree to dinner because it was luck.”

“I would argue differently,” Lucky challenged. “Name one thing in our meeting that wasn’t pure luck.” He sat back in his chair, grinning smugly, hooves crossed in front of his chest.

“I vaguely remember you holding my mane for me as I threw up violently. And I remember you helping me to scrub vomit off the floor for what was an hour or two of retch-inducing hell. Was that luck?”

Lucky opened his mouth to respond, looked puzzled, and then closed it again, frowning deeply. “...Touche.”

Spitfire gave a triumphant grin at that, watching him intently. “That wasn’t luck in the slightest. And coming up with this elaborate web of lies and deceit to convince everyone I’m a cosplayer… that’s not luck, either.”

“Whatever you say, C.J.,” Lucky teased.

Spitfire narrowed her eyes at him, but smiled faintly, taking another sip of her water.

“So, I guess this is good night, then?” Lucky asked, panting faintly, flexing his wings. They were standing in front of the door to her room. “Don’t want a goodnight kiss?”

Spitfire looked thoughtful, before frowning at him deeply, eyes narrowing. “I was going to say ‘yes’, but then I realised I’m only saying that because you’re really lucky.”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Lucky chirped with a wry smile, moving to close the door. “Goodn—”

Lucky was cut off as Spitfire took a step forwards and gave him a firm, yet soft kiss, right on the mouth. His wings automatically sprung upwards in surprise and delight, and his cheeks warmed slightly as he kissed her back tentatively.

Spitfire pulled back from the kiss, placing a hoof over his mouth. “Now now, this was just a goodnight kiss. Down boy.”

Lucky gave a chagrined smile, swallowing thickly and trying to fold his wings down against his back.

Spitfire gave a mischievous little smile. “You’re cute when you’re all flustered. It’s nice to see some cracks in that perfect composure,”

“So uh… will I see you again?” Lucky queried.

“Not tomorrow, I’m afraid,” Spitfire said, frowning slightly.

“Why is that?” Lucky asked, a little bit too quickly.

“I have a…” she trailed off slowly, eyes narrowing at him. “You… already know, don’t you?”

“I checked the Wonderbolt schedule,” Lucky admitted with a slow smirk. “Spitfire has a show tomorrow, so obviously, you can’t be seen anywhere, or people would start to suspect that you’re just a cosplayer!”

“Yes, that’s entirely it,” Spitfire said, rolling her eyes. She shook her head, looking him up and down once. “Day after tomorrow. Midday. I’m dragging you out to the lake and making us lunch. I expect you to be here.”

“Would you come searching for me if I didn’t show?” Lucky simpered.

“With your luck? I’d do it with a leash and collar,” Spitfire said bluntly.

Lucky perked an ear upwards, bowing slightly. “I am a very lucky pony,” he said with a smirk. “Goodnight, C.J.”

“Goodnight, Lucky,” Spitfire said, gently closing the door. She smiled to herself as she flicked the lamp on and curled up on her bed to finish the newest Daring Do book.

Too much luck?

—Followed me?!”

Lucky jerked upwards from a mid-morning nap, blinking rapidly as he heard Spitfire’s rather irate voice from downstairs.

It was still the day after, and he hadn’t expected Spitfire to be in the room.

“Of course I followed you!” a male voice responded, irate and defensive. “What else would I do?!”

Lucky rolled out of bed, carefully stepping down onto the floor and then creeping to the door, quietly opening it and heading downstairs. He paused outside the door to Spitfire’s room, resting his ear against the wood.

“You had no right!” Spitfire growled, and Lucky heard her stamp her hoof, causing something porcelain on her bookshelves to rattle.

“I had to make sure you were fine! You sort of just… flew off. You know, after…” the male trailed off, awkward.

“After you drugged me!” Spitfire hissed.

“There weren’t no roofies in it!” the male protested weakly. “Was just some spirits to make you loosen up a little bit.”

“What is my policy on alcohol in my flight school, rookie?!” Spitfire almost screeched.

There was a long pause. “U-uh… uh… n-no alcohol, Miss Spitfire.”

“That’s right!” Spitfire growled, a note of malice in her tone. “And despite the fact that my views on alcohol are well documented, you still slipped me some!”

There was something mumbled that Lucky couldn’t hear.

“No, Soarin! If you ever do anything like this again, you’re fired! Now get out of my room! THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A PONY, ROOKIE!”

Lucky barely had time to leap out of the way of the doorway as the male pegasus came barrelling through it, pushing the door open and then bolting down the stairs towards the front door. Lucky cringed, head turned to the side, a hoof lifted, halting the door before it shoved into his face. It bounced off his hoof, barely missing hitting his nose.

Spitfire stood in the doorway, chest heaving with her heavy breathing, glowering down the steps after him.

Lucky peeked around the doorway, eyebrows raising. “I should check to see if Spitfire died this morning in a freak training accident or something.”

Spitfire glanced at him, processed what he said, and then gave a bewildered stare at him. “What?”

“Because you are channelling her spirit,” Lucky said with a wry grin. “You’ve gone and made it really awkward for the real Spitfire when Soarin catches up with her, C.J.”

Spitfire just stared at him for several long, long moments.

“Your flight suit is downstairs,” Lucky said, motioning down the stairs. “It’s mostly clean, I think.”

Spitfire blinked once, and then nodded jerkily. “I’m… uh… sorry you had to hear that.”

“Gotta keep up appearances,” Lucky said, shrugging his shoulders and wings in a carefree way. “Nobody will believe you’re the real Spitfire if you don’t go dressing down her co-captain. How does that work, anyway?”

“We’re co-captains, but as the face of the Wonderbolts, I can fire and hire who I wish. And if he does anything that stupid again, he’s fired,” Spitfire growled darkly.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” Lucky said, giving her a small smile.

Spitfire’s ears reddened slightly.

“Don’t you have a show to get to?” Lucky asked, motioning towards the clock on the wall.

“Yes… yes I do,” Spitfire glowered. “And I have to fly next to that abysmal excuse for a co-captain.”

“Well, it won’t do to turn up late, y’know. How does it work over there anyway. Do you just… sleep at the headquarters?” Lucky asked blankly.

“Sometimes,” Spitfire conceded, nodding.

“Well that… kinda sucks. You know that renting the room comes with amenities, too, right? Got a shower, a lovely cloud patio, a kitchen… you have your own bed in here, of course…” Lucky trailed off suggestively.

“Why, are you suggesting I move in?” Spitfire asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Woo, this conversation is pretty damn redundant,” Lucky said, scratching his head with a hoof. “I’m just saying. Y’know. Things. I don’t mind having you around. You’re cute. Sexy. Well, smoking hot, really,” he said with an earnest nod. “And when you’re in that flight suit… oh my…”

Spitfire flushed a little bit further at that.

“And with that cosplay fetish you have, I could totally be the young rookie and you could strip me down for not flying right, and make me… I don’t know. Clean you up after a hard day’s flying…” he trailed off, holding her gaze with a slow, mischievous grin. “...With my tongue.”

A visible shiver passed over Spitfire’s form, and her blush became noticeable.

“You are so very adorable when you’re flustered,” Lucky said with a sly smile, holding her stare.

Spitfire shivered again, before shaking her head and shuddering faintly. “I have to go. But I find your confidence just… so fucking sexy,” she growled, leaning forwards and kissing him forcefully, before pulling back and darting away. She took a running leap through the windows, wings folded tight to her body, before she took off flying with strong sweeps of her powerful wings.

Lucky watched her go, smiling faintly, licking his lips nervously and then closing her door for her.

Lucky stretched slowly, ears splaying back, wings flexing and arching, tongue curling out as he gave a mighty yawn.

A hoof prodded him in the side, and he yelped, flailing and falling bodily off the bed.

Spitfire tilted her head at him slowly, an ear perking upwards slowly. “You’re a very heavy sleeper.”

“I tend not to have ponies sneaking up on me,” Lucky said, peeking up at her with one eye.

“Well, we have a lunch date… Rookie,” Spitfire stated, staring down at him.

Lucky rolled over onto his back to peer up at her with both eyes, wings giving a slow, lazy flex as he stretched again. “That isn’t for hours. It’s still morning!”

“You really are lazy,” Spitfire said, shaking her head down at him. “Ten minutes, rookie. Be there, or I’m coming back with a leash and collar and I will set the pace.”

“You keep promising that, but you never bring it,” Lucky said with a pout.

Spitfire rolled her eyes, nudging him with a hoof. “Be careful what you wish for.” she said ominously, turning and heading down the stairs.

Lucky groaned faintly, throwing a hoof over his face and dozing off again.

Lucky reawoke to the sound of something jangling above him, and the sensation of something closing around his throat.

Immediately, the stallion jerked awake, flailing hooves and scrabbling away, rolling away and moving hooves up to his throat to try and get whatever was choking him away from him.

A sharp jerk in the leash brought him up short, and he gave a wheezed gasp of surprise. A thick collar emblazoned with the Wonderbolt logo was wrapped around his throat, with a black leash leading up to...

Spitfire stood in his room, dressed in her entire Wonderbolt outfit, the blue flight suit stretched taut across her toned form, and her goggles sitting on her forehead, just underneath her fiery mane.

“I warned you, rookie,” She said calmly, watching him with narrowed eyes.

Lucky swallowed thickly, tugging at the collar once and then twisting to peer down at the buckle, frowning and slowly arching an eyebrow. “No padlock?”

“Not even you are stupid enough to remove it before I give you permission. Now. Are you going to come willingly, or am I going to be tugging your leash the entire time?” Spitfire asked with a slowly growing wicked smile.

Lucky looked down at the leash, and then back up at her, ears pinning back slightly. “Well… which way would you find most fun?” he asked with a sly smile.

Spitfire looked him up and down carefully. She stepped closer, undoing the clip on the leash, and then slipping the leash into her saddlebag. “I think I’ll let you fly along behind me. But if you lag, I’m going to treat you like the rookie you are and use the leash.”

“Yes ma’am!” Lucky said, straightening up and giving his best Wonderbolt salute.

“Do I need to get the leash, Rookie?!” Spitfire called back over her shoulder, eyes narrowing dangerously at him.

Lucky was lagging behind, chest heaving and wings pumping almost awkwardly as he tried to keep up with the Wonderbolt. She wasn’t even sweating, just coasting along in front of him, but he was having to expend every bit of energy he had to even keep up with her.

Spitfire snorted back at him, shaking her head. “Fucking rookie!” she growled, loud enough for him to hear. She pointed down towards the ground with a hoof. “We’re here!”

Lucky gave a sigh of relief, folding his wings and letting himself drop, not even bothering with the backwinging to a soft landing. He just spread his wings when he got close to the ground, landed on his hindlegs and then tumbled across the soft grass without a care in the world, ending up splayed out flat on his back, wings spread wide, chest heaving as he gave a low groan.

Spitfire was much more graceful, landing neatly and transitioning smoothly to a calm stride towards him. She clicked the leash onto his collar, and then tugged it firmly. “C’mon rookie, or I’m going to drag you there like putting a leash on a cat.”

Lucky gave an incoherent groan.

“C’mon,” Spitfire said, tugging the leash firmly.

A low groan left the stallion, but he staggered to his feet at the insistent pull around his neck, clumsily stepping along behind her.

Spitfire led him through the clearing they had landed at, and then into a stand of trees that grew around a stream. It was a path she had obviously travelled several times before.”

“So… w-why do… why do the wonderbolts have these?” Lucky asked between ragged panting, tugging at the collar with a hoof.

“Training,” Spitfire said bluntly, tugging the leash a little more firmly. “Mainly for high-speed manouvres. The leash and collar is held by the leader for tandem flights, so that it’s not possible for the follower to end up lagging behind. It’s part of how we keep so close to each other during our flights. Training with these,” she pointed out, tugging again.

“Clever,” Lucky panted, hanging his head slightly, allowing himself to be lead. “And kinda demeaning.”

“That’s all part of the training, rookie,” Spitfire said with a sly grin, tugging him right over to a small drop in the land. The stream wandered over an eroded cliff, creating a kind of short waterfall.

Trees crowded close on eight side of the water, giving a kind of privacy screen, while at the base of the miniature waterfall, the water had cleared away the soil to reveal smooth rocks underneath. The water pooled and swirled around the rocks, leaving alternate areas covered and uncovered.

“Nice spot,” Lucky noted, “Is this where we’re having lunch?”

“It’s my favorite spot in the whole world,” Spitfire said, stretching out happily and unclipping the leash, slipping it back into her saddlebag, before placing the saddlebags on the ground.

Lucky gave a long sigh, stepping down into one of the shallow rockpools and then splaying out, only his nose and face resting out of the water, chin on a rock.

“Are you really that tired from the flight?” Spitfire asked bluntly.

Lucky nodding, saying something muffled and incoherent.

Spitfire shook her head slowly. “We’re going to need to get you some endurance training,” she stated, picking up her saddlebags in her mouth and leaping nimbly to the rock in front of him, avoiding stepping in the water.

“Don’t wanna get wet?” Lucky asked, peering up at her as she sat down on the smooth rock and then dropped onto her side, pulling the saddlebag toward her.

“Have you seen what these suits do when they’re wet?” Spitfire asked, lifting a hindleg and peering at him. “It’s like wet cotton… just hugs all my curves and is basically see-through.”

Lucky’s eyes widened and he felt his throat go dry at the pose Spitfire had taken. With her hindlegs spread like that he could see, quite clearly, how the taut flight suit hugged each and every curve of her form, especially the way it held tight over the visible mound of pegasus cunny.

Ears reddening, Lucky looked away, clearing his throat nervously.

Spitfire giggled mischievously, laying her hindleg back down and then opening the saddlebag, pulling out a pair of sandwiches.

“Sandwiches?” Lucky asked, ears perking upwards slowly. “We came all this way for sandwiches?”

“Sandwiches and dessert,” Spitfire said with a slow, naughty smile.

“Dessert?” Lucky asked, head tilting to the left curiously.

Spitfire hummed faintly, digging around for a jar filled with some creamy white substance. “Whipped cream! And it might be a little cliché, but I didn’t bring any plates…” she trailed off, giving him a long, smouldering stare.

“So is my good luck going to lead to a plate being washed downstream or your stomach being the perfect surface for eating whipped cream off it?” Lucky mused, smiling up at her innocently.

Spitfire’s eyes narrowed slowly, and she tapped the rock in front of her with a hoof. “Come up here, rookie.”

Lucky gave a low groan, pushing himself to his hooves and wading out of the water, before splaying out on the rock in front of her, carefully on his stomach.

Spitfire raised an eyebrow slowly. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you got so excited from that little tease that you have to lay on your stomach…?”

Lucky’s ears reddened further, and he bit his tongue, looking away.

Spitfire giggled, eyes narrowing at him slowly. “Whatever happened to that sexy, confident stallion that had me shaking and quivering yesterday?”

Ears pinning back, Lucky just stared at her for a long moment. “You put a collar on him and broke his spirit.”

“Ahh,” Spitfire said, stretching out lazily, picking up her sandwich to take a bite out of it, pausing. “A shame. That stallion was hot.”

Spitfire went to take a bite of her sandwich, but Lucky stopped her with a gentle hoof on her own. He led her hoof back down to the bag the sandwich had came in, forcing her to drop it.

“What’s the meaning of this, rookie?” Spitfire asked imperiously, eyebrows raising, eyes narrowing.

“Shut up, C.J.,” Lucky said with a slight smile, pushing her back slightly and stepping over her, leaning down to kiss her intently.

Spitfire fought back for a moment, giving a slight annoyed hum, pushing at his chest lightly with a hoof, wings spreading slightly against the rock underneath her. Her low hum became one of delight as Lucky pressed himself over her, kissing her intently, their tongues meshing together in a heated embrace.

Lucky gave an eager growl, tilting his head to the side slightly to deepen the kiss, one of his hooves sliding down her form and finding her haunch, resting over her cutie mark, squeezing her through the flight suit.

“You are so bloody sexy,” Lucky panted as he pulled back to take a breath, peering down at her, smiling.

“And you’re somehow handsome while still being green,” Spitfire said in wonderment.

“Don’t insult my colour scheme,” Lucky growled, kissing her again. His hips pushing in against her own, spreading her hindlegs with the pressure of his motion.

Spitfire gasped into the kiss, but didn’t struggle, allowing her hindlegs to be spread, wrapping them around his hips as she kissed him eagerly in response.

With a firm grind and arch of his hips, Lucky rubbed himself right up between her thighs, his wings stiffening and quivering above them both as he felt the growing length of his arousal grind right against soft, cloth-covered pegasi pussy right through her flight suit.

A low shudder passed over Spitfire’s form, and her ears reddened as he ground himself against her all the more intently, her hindlegs quivering weakly around his hips. “Mnnf… y-yes…” she whimpered breathlessly, pushing herself up against him firmly.

Lucky panted heavily into the kiss, a hoof pushing between their forms, finding the zipper at her throat and tugging it down eagerly. He dragged it down the length of her stomach, right to the end, which was just above the enticing mound of that warming cunt.

With a lustful growl against her lips, Lucky pushed his hoof right down into her suit, and began to rub intently between her thighs, grinding back and forth slowly, rubbing right in against the moistening, incredibly soft outer lips of her pussy.

Spitfire shuddered, quivering underneath his attentions, twisting this way and that and quickly wriggling out of the top half of her flight suit. She wrapped her bare hooves around his upper body, grinding towards his attention eagerly.

Lucky growled heatedly, grinding his hoof all the more forcefully against Spitfire’s heated, drooling cunny, seemingly trying to suckle on her tongue as he kissed her intently. He stared down at her for several long moments, grinning, watching her expression as she shuddered and writhed under his touch. Her eyes opened, and she stared up at him, smiling in response. “Mnnh… You’re going to get lucky today, Lucky,” she crooned.

Lucky stared down at her, his ears splaying back, his hoof stilling between her thighs. He slowly drew back, his hoof glistening with her moisture, his wings giving an anxious flutter.

“D-did I say something wrong?” Spitfire asked, sensing a shift in his emotions. “What did I say?”

“Oh… you didn’t say anything,” Lucky assured, taking a step backwards, dipping his hoof into the water to clean it off, biting his bottom lip and looking away. “I just… uh… I think we’re taking this a little bit too fast.”

“We’re taking this too slow,” Spitfire responded immediately. “Way, way too slow! We’ve stopped. You stopped!”

“I know I did…” Lucky said, giving a pained grimace. “I’m just uh… I’m not in the mood.”

“There are at least ten inches of evidence to the contrary,” Spitfire pointed out, her eyes lowering slightly to between his thighs.

Lucky winced, crossing his forehooves and laying on his stomach to hide it. “I’m just… I’m not in the mood any more, okay?”

“What did I do wrong?” Spitfire asked plaintively.

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Lucky reassured, sighing and rubbing a hoof through his mane.

Spitfire’s eyes lowered, and she self-consciously started to pull her flight suit up, sliding her hooves back into the sleeves. “Do you want to… leave?”

Lucky shook his head firmly. “No. No. I want to stay here with you. But can we just… have lunch? Like normal ponies?”

“Normal ponies?” Spitfire asked with a hollow laugh. “I am anything but normal.”

“You’re normal to me, C.J.,” Lucky said earnestly, giving her a long stare. “Can’t we just eat?”

Spitfire pursed her lips, giving an annoyed snort. “Fine, fine. Whatever.”

Lucky smiled faintly, crawling back up the rock towards her, taking the other sandwich from inside the saddlebag. He unwrapped it, taking a bite out of it, gazing at Spitfire for a long moment.

“So are you going to tell me why you just went cold-fish on me?” Spitfire asked plaintively.

Lucky’s ears pinned back, and he gave a helpless shrug of his shoulders. “For… you know… effeminate reasons. They’re personal.”

“Are you too much of a rookie to own up to your emotions?” Spitfire asked bluntly.

Lucky nodded silently.

Spitfire rolled her eyes, giving a long, frustrated sigh. “Look. Okay. I’ll give you this once. I did kind of… jump you.”

“Kind of,” Lucky said with a wry grin.

“But I swear to Celestia, if you turn me down again, then… well, you’ll never hear from me again, understood?” Spitfire stated, glowering at him.

“I understand,” Lucky said, hanging his head a little. “Do you want to… take off your suit? So we can get under the waterfall?”

Spitfire glared at him for a moment, before shrugging out of her flight suit, tossing it atop her saddlebag. She stretched, kicking her hindlegs a moment, giving Lucky an unimpeded view of her glistening cunny, unintentionally.

Lucky stared for a moment, swallowing thickly, and then looking away.

“Well c’mon then, rookie,” Spitfire said shortly, stepping over towards the waterfall, letting the water wash down over her fiery mane.

Lucky rose, biting through the last of his sandwich and swallowing it down before joining her, carefully stepping in underneath the waterfall. The rocks here were more slippery, slimy with moss and lichen. With a little bit of effort, he managed to seat himself down in the crook of a pair of rocks, motioning for Spitfire to join him.

With some hesitation, the mare stepped closer to him, raising an eyebrow at his rather prominent arousal. “It’s taking all your self-control not to just hold me down and ravage me, huh?” she asked bluntly.

Lucky bit his tongue, nodding slowly, wings giving an anxious flex. “You have no idea.”

“You must have a pretty good reason then,” Spitfire reasoned, even as Lucky grasped her and tugged her into his lap, so that her back was against his chest.

Lucky rested his chin on her shoulder, wrapping hooves around her midsection, trying to squirm into a more comfortable position, even though Spitfire had to contend for space with with an almost urgently throbbing stallion cock.

With a naughty little grin, Spitfire slowly ground herself back against him, wiggling her hips slightly. With the length of cock against her rump and back, she was grinding herself almost teasingly against the base, while the feathers of her wings tickled near the tip.

“S-stop that…” Lucky whimpered, ears splaying back slowly. “Y-you tease.”

“Why do you want me to stop, Lucky?” Spitfire asked simply. She leaned forwards, dropping down onto her hooves, and then turning around, pushing a hoof rather forcefully against his chest, holding him down. The other hoof began to stroke languidly along the underside of the stiffened stallionhood.

The heavenly vision of a soaking wet Spitfire took up all of Lucky’s vision, even as she continued to idly stroke up and down him with a teasing motion that would never, ever get him off. “Tell me why and I’ll stop.”

“But y-you’ll…” Lucky whimpered, biting his bottom lip. “I-I was going to l-lay here with you and kiss you s-sweetly and j-just enjoy nature with you…”

Spitfire arched an eyebrow at him, continuing to stroke languidly up and down him with her hoof, watching him intently. “The sooner you tell me why, the sooner I stop. And if it’s a really, really good reason, I might even get you off, rookie.”

Lucky whined faintly in the back of his throat, his wings flexing ineffectually against the rocks behind him. “B-but…”

Spitfire hummed innocently, leaning forwards and opening her mouth, extending her tongue. She came within mere millimetres of touching him, her hot exhalations washing over the stiff length of his cock, making it throb even more intently. She stared up at him expectantly.

“O-oh f-fuck…” Lucky whimpered, quivering under her teasing. “F-fine… I-I just… You said it yourself. I was getting l-lucky.”

“Lucky?” Spitfire asked, drawing away and idly stroking up and down him again with her hoof. “As in…?” While she waited for a response, her hoof slid down to the base of the stiff stallionhood, and she squeezed lightly, even as she began to slowly wash the tip of the aching cock with firm, teasing swipes of her heavenly tongue.

Lucky whimpered, his eyes clenching closed and back arching on reflex, his hooves grasping at the base of his own wings, almost tearing out feathers. “L-lucky… Y-you’re only doing this because of l-luck…”

Spitfire stared at him, pausing with her tongue on his tip. She blinked once, before her eyes narrowed, her expression turning dark. With a low, angry growl, she parted her lips, sinking down over his cock, tongue feathering at the tip of it firmly.

Lucky tensed up underneath her, shuddering and quivering, his hindlegs spreading and closing alternatively as he resisted the urge to hump up into the amazing muzzle that was now bobbing aggressively on his stiff, throbbing cock.

Growling intently, Spitfire gave a few more rapid bobs, suckling at him hard and fast, bobbing rapidly, before tugging off of him with an audible pop! of suction, glowering at him. “You think this is luck?” she growled, offended. “You think that I’m doing this just because of your luck?”

Another low growl left the mare, and she dove back over him, head working up and down fervently, her hooves squeezing around his base. After a series of mind-numbing bobs, she drew back, staring at him with narrowed eyes, tongue feathering over his tip as her hooves worked him off powerfully. “You think this is luck, rookie?!” she hissed. “Do I strike you as somepony that would let the powers of ‘luck’ control me?” she asked, staring at him intently. “Do I?!”

“N-no ma’am,” Lucky whimpered, arching and writhing underneath her, not entirely sure if he wanted her to stop any more.

“I am my own pony, rookie! I do what. I. Want. Nothing controls me, nothing nudges me!” Spitfire growled, giving him a rapid series of firm licks and then suckling almost angrily at the very tip of his throbbing erection. “I’m not doing this because you’re lucky. I’m doing this because you’re different!” she hissed, punctuating each exclamation with a pause and a heavenly, forceful suckle on him each time. “I’m doing this because you’re strange, and wonderful, and different, and because I find you arousing enough to fuck you!”

Each word was followed by a firm swirl of her tongue and a bob of her muzzle this time, her motions aggressive and forceful, like she was arguing with him with the greatest blowjob to ever grace any pony anywhere. Lucky could already feel himself losing control, the already-thick tip of his cock swelling and flaring in warning.

Spitfire barely seemed to notice, just widening her muzzle even further each time she took him into her perfect mouth, growling and suckling at him intently, twisting her muzzle now to increase the tension just begging to burst.

“You are most definitely lucky to have me do this to you,” Spitfire growled, glaring up at him, “But in no way was luck the driving force behind this happening! I choose what happens! You understand, rookie?! Say it!”

Lucky whined softly, having trouble remembering his own name, let alone trying to repeat words. With great difficulty, he stared down at her, looking past the earnestly-throbbing length of his flared stallionhood. “Y-you c-choose w-what hap… hap… happens…” he slurred, nodding earnestly.

“Good!” Spitfire growled, glowering at him. “Now shut up and cum in my fucking mouth!”

Lucky barely had time to register what she said, before she dove back over him, her hooves squeezing around his base intently as she bobbed and jerked him in time. Each time she pushed down over him, her lips pushing past the medial ring, she would tilt her head to the side, and then draw back up, giving him a different sensation each and every time she moved.

Already near his peak, Lucky didn’t stand a chance, his back arching and wings slapping wetly against the rocks as he jerked underneath her, pumping sudden hot bursts of pegasus spunk up into her willing mouth.

Spitfire growled, suckling around him intently, drawing back so just the tip was in her mouth as hot volleys of stallion spunk gushed into her mouth. She swallowed intently around him, suckling and swallowing rapidly with each eager burst of urgent jism pumping into her mouth.

Lucky arched and cried out at the sensations, feeling like fireworks were going off in his skull. He pushed at her head with his hooves, trying to get her off, but just slipping ineffectually with the soaked mane in the way. And still she suckled at him, swallowing and bobbing her muzzle with heated growls, forcing out every last drop of his gooey load for her hungry muzzle.

With a shudder and a whimper, Lucky fell back, gurgling blankly up at the sky as water fell over his face. He didn’t even care.

Spitfire snorted once, swirling her tongue along his underside, suckling as she drew upwards, before panting faintly, staring at him. Her lips and chin were awash with the gooey white of his spunk, being rapidly washed away with the water of the waterfall.

With a low growl, she stepped over him, blocking out the waterfall with her head and mane, resting her nose against his own.

“If you dare suggest that my affections for you are only there because you’re lucky, ever, ever again, I’m going to put the leash on you and drag you through an endurance race by the throat. Am I understood, rookie?!”

“Mnngharghle…” Lucky groaned hazily.

Spitfire snorted derisively, and then grasped his muzzle, kissing him furiously, hugging around his shoulders with her hooves, glowering down at him intently. “Now, thank me.”

“Thank you, Spitfire,” Lucky panted, opening one eye to stare up at her.

Spitfire paused for a moment, her ears pinning back, her demeanor softening. “Call… call me C.J.”

“Thank you, C.J.,” Lucky said with a tired smile, rolling back and forth underneath her in euphoric delight. “I’d offer you some kind of recompense but I can’t feel my legs.”

Spitfire snorted once, kissing his nose firmly. “It’s all the high-flight training. Our entire breathing tract is over trained to take the strain of breathing at higher altitudes.”

“I choose to believe that your special talent just involves—

—You really shouldn’t finish that sentence. I’m much, much faster than you.” Spitfire finished for him.

“Whatever you say, C.J.” Lucky gave a low, content groan, throwing a hoof over the mare and weakly holding her against him. “You promise that you’re just… You know... not because?”

“I will bite you, rookie,” Spitfire growled, kissing him again.

Luck of the Draw

Lucky groaned faintly, stirring and shivering slightly. He was laying on the cold floor in his lounge room, where he had collapsed several hours before after finally arriving home from his date with Spitfire.

Several parts of his body hurt. Mostly his wings and shoulder muscles used to support flight. His wings refused to even open properly, just hanging limply while the muscles screamed in protest at any attempt to make them do any work.

With another soft groan, the stallion dragged himself to the kitchen, pulling out a jog and glass of water to shakily swallow down.

Spitfire had already taken her leave, heading off for the Wonderbolt HQ for some reason or another.

Lucky leaned against the counter heavily, letting it take the weight off his legs a little bit, even as he peered up at the calendar on the side of the fridge. It was a Wonderbolt calendar, with the dates of all their shows in neat font underneath each day they were scheduled to perform.

There was a Wonderbolt show tomorrow.

Lucky looked at the clock on the wall, placing his glass down. 2AM.

There was a Wonderbolt show today.

With a long, weary sigh, he made his way towards the stairs, heading for his room, each step seeming to be harder than the last, until he could finally collapse half-on, half-off his bed, falling back to sleep almost instantly.

A bleary-eyed Lucky limped through the front gates of the Wonderbolt Arena, heading for the ticket stands. Only the last few stragglers were buying their tickets. Some of them were even dancing from hoof to hoof in anxiety of getting a ticket.

Lucky was completely calm and collected. There was no chance at all of tickets running out before he got in.

The line dwindled slowly, and one other pony got in line behind Lucky, panting and out of breath, sweating with exertion, mane frazzled.

Lucky arched an eyebrow, and offered her his spot in the line.

The mare stared at him dubiously, but accepted with a mumbled ‘thanks’.

Lucky just hummed to himself quietly as the line continued, up until he was ready to get a ticket. He slid across his bits, and accepted the ticket stub. “You’re in luck, that was our last ticket!” the ticket master said with a bright smile.

Lucky just nodded, before pausing. “Is there any kind of… lucky draw associated with this ticket?”

“There’s a lucky draw, yes. A free upgrade to the viewing box at the top of the stadium, including a visit from the Wonderbolt captains! Meeting the Wonderbolts! It’s more than anypony could wish for!”

“When is it drawn?” Lucky queried.

“As soon as I take the last of these tickets up to the raffle bin,” the ticketmaster said with a smile.

Lucky frowned deeply at that, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Something the matter, sir?” the ticketmaster asked, likely frowning.

Lucky nodded. “Yes, yes there is…” he said thoughtfully, scratching his chin with a hoof. “That mare that went in before me… what was her ticket number?”

“I’m… I’m not sure I’m supposed to tell you that,” the ticketmaster said uncertainly.

Lucky reached down, pulling out another hoofful of bits and offering them up. “And now?”

“Ticket number 1059,” the ticketmaster said, guardedly taking the bits. “Though I don’t see how that helps you.”

Lucky dumped another hoofful of bits on the counter. “I want you to remove her ticket from the draw.”

“That is highly irregular,” the ticketmaster said, looking down at the bits and then back up at him. “What have you got against that mare?”

“Nothing at all, just circumventing serendipity,” Lucky said with a slight smile, adding another hoofful of bits. “You’ll be doing a good thing, even if you don’t understand it yet.”

“You’re lucky I need the bits,” the ticketmaster said darkly, rummaging around in his little basket of tickets until he came up with ticket 1059, handing it to Lucky. “I hope you choke on it.”

“You’ve done a wonderful thing for that mare,” Lucky said with a warm smile, turning on his hooves and heading into the arena.

Lucky found his seat after a little bit of searching, stretching out lazily amongst the crowd of ponies that had gathered for the Wonderbolt’s performance.

The mare from earlier was sitting next to him, in her allotted seat, rapt attention focused on the cloud-field, waiting for her heroes to arrive.

Lucky’s eyes narrowed on the crowd on the other side of the arena, where he saw the ticketmaster dump the basket of tickets into a big revolving drum. A Wonderbolt official with goggles pushed up on his forehead, took a step forwards and began to spin the drum.

Lucky waited until the wonderbolt fished around inside and pulled out a ticket, handing it off to another pony to take up to the main booth. Lucky turned to the mare sitting beside him, holding up his ticket with a sheepish smile. “The uh… the ticketmaster told me to swap my ticket with you?” he offered uncertainly. “Said there was a mistake.”

“Yeah, whatever,” the mare said, fishing around in her saddlebag and giving him her ticket, taking his own without another thought, stuffing it in her bag and returning to looking for Wonderbolts.

Lucky gave a sigh of relief, relaxing back into his seat and waiting for the show to start.

After only a few moments, a voice came over the loudspeakers.

“Mares and gentlecolts, our lucky-prize-draw winner has been announced! Would ticket number one-zero-six-zero please present your winning ticket to the nearest staff member. I repeat, ticket number one-zero-six-zero, one-thousand-and-sixty! You are our lucky draw winner!”

The mare beside Lucky was barely paying attention, still too busy eyeing the field, looking for flashes of blue.

Lucky nudged her side with his hoof. “Hey… isn’t your ticket number a thousand and sixty?”

The mare blinked once, rummaging in her saddlebag again, checking her ticket. “Yeah, sure. Why?”

“You won,” Lucky said, making a motion with his nose towards the box at the top of the arena. “You get to go meet the Wonderbolts.”

The mare stared at him for several long moments, the blood draining from her face. “W-wh-what?”

“Hey, don’t ask me, I didn’t make this happen. You got the winning ticket,” Lucky said with the faintest of sly hints creeping into his smile. “Go. Meet the Wonderbolts.”

“But… I… Yes!” the mare squeaked, stumbling off the seat and bolting away.

Lucky looked left and then right, and then pushed up the divider between the seats, stretching across the new space lazily, resting his chin on a wing in his now-doubled seating area, waiting for the show to start.

There was another wait for several minutes for the show to start. The sky darkened, thunderclouds gathering, sending long shadows across the arena. It almost looked like it was readying to rain.

And then the first of the Wonderbolts appeared.

They came in low over the top of the arena, with sparklers clutched in their forehooves. To the observers in the arena, they were bright streaks of gold showering sparks harmlessly down over the cloud arena, superimposed brightly against the dark clouds.

In perfect formation, each pony veered off to the right, twelve of them all flying in a perfectly ordered counter-clockwise rotation of the arena. Lower and lower they went, forming a cascade of revolving sparks, before they all began to spin faster and faster, moving closer to the centre of the arena.

The Wonderbolts all closed in closer, until they formed a tight circle, spinning around a common point in space, a band of blurred gold in the middle of the arena. And then, half of them split off, climbing a little higher, leaving six of them on each ‘band’ of gold, spinning faster and faster, closer and closer, until a tiny funnel of wind began to form. Clouds from the arena floor started to get sucked up into the vortex, giving colour and substance to what would have been an invisible spectacle.

And then, as one, each Wonderbolt dove down the vortex of wind, holding out their sparklers towards the centre. The sparks, originally falling towards the centre and outwards through centrifugal force, now burst with energy, whipped into a frenzy of sparks by the powerful wind they were subjected to. And the special golden sparks they emitted were caught in the vortex and carried up.

A gasp of wonder rose around the arena as the funnel of wind and misty clouds suddenly became a swirling vortex of brilliant gold sparks, casting the entire arena into a golden glow.

The twister persisted for several more moments, before collapsing without any ponies to sustain it, sending cascades of golden sparks shooting outwards like fireworks. Several ponies tried to catch the spark, holding the warm glowing objects between their hooves and gazing at them in wonder before they petered out and turned to ash.

Lucky was predictably lucky enough to have one of the sparks land nearly directly between his forehooves, and he scooped it up carefully. It was warm to the touch, but not unpleasant, and pulsed with a magical glow. It was as light as a feather, and its shape was indeterminate. Barely four seconds after he picked it up, it blinked out of existence, leaving behind a smear of ash.

There was a brief pause in the show as the Wonderbolts set up their next act, and the clouds overhead got even darker and more foreboding.

Lucky briefly remembered that their new show was titled ‘Forces of Nature’, and was hoping that they weren’t going to drop a thunderstorm on them.

Ten wonderbolts all shot up from below the arena, carrying thick metal rods with large orbs on the end. All ten of them went to a different spot in the arena, laying down the rods into carefully-positioned slots, even as the storm above raged and broiled with intense fury. The first jagged fork of lightning shot down, hitting one of the lightning-rods.

Immediately, the air around the rod started to crackle.

Several ponies in the audience screamed in surprise and more than a little fear.

Lucky wasn’t particularly worried about himself, but he was concerned that somepony else might get hit by stray lightning.

It took only a few seconds before Lucky realised they were in no danger. Down below, in the crowd, position at strategic intervals, were several unicorns casting some kind of magic. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. No lightning would be striking them, he was sure.

But Lucky wasn’t so sure about the two Wonderbolts who were rising up from the centre of the arena.

The fiery mane of Spitfire and the much more subdued colouration of Soarin gave away exactly who the pair were.

Several powerful lightning strikes arced down, striking the rods and setting them crackling with their own energy. And then they started to discharge.

Seemingly random shocks of lightning started to arc back and forth between the different pylons, zapping across the distance in brilliant flashes of blue.

The ten other Wonderbolt’s had wisely drawn back, keeping their distance, falling under the protective magical ‘blanket’ that was keeping the crowd safe.

But Spitfire and Soarin were right out in the thick of it.

The two Wonderbolts accelerated, spiralling together up out of the crowds in a tight formation, so close that they could reach out and touch hooves together. Just to show off, they each threw in a barrel-roll, rotating in the air without losing a single bit of speed or position, even as lightning crackled and snarled all around them.

They separated, each arcing to the other side of the arena, before they began to weave and wend through each of the pylons in turn, somehow dodging the maniacal cracks of lightning all around them.

The lightning snarled with increasing intensity, and the skies seemed to rumble their fury at the two ponies who dared to defy them. An insane amount of energy crackled throughout the arena, and all around the two Wonderbolts, even as they continued their death-defying course around the arena.

The two of them turned at the end, and as the lightning reached the peak, forming a bizarre pattern across the arena of crisscrossing, crackling silver energy, they flew out to meet each other in the centre of the arena.

The two Wonderbolts seemed to float, hanging, suspended in midair, reaching out hooves. Their hooves touched for the merest of moments amongst the booming of thunder and the flashes of lightning, and then they both folded their wings and plummeted through the killer discharges and disappeared through the clouds at the base of the arena and out to safety.

Lucky let out the breath he didn’t even realise he had been holding.

Several more crazy, death-defying stunts followed, each based on a different element of nature. Earthquakes, fires, hail, fireballs raining from the sky. Each more crazy than the last.

And finally, it was over.

The Wonderbolts, tired and drained from an hour or more of intense flying, all settled down and filed neatly up into the top box to meet the ponies that had paid top price for their tickets.

There was a commotion as Spitfire entered the box, and Lucky was quite sure that the mare who had ‘won’ the upgrade to the box seat had fainted.

With a faint smile to himself, he dropped down off his seat, and then headed for the back of the arena, joining with the crowd that was filing out.

A single guard stood in front of a door, with ‘STAFF ACCESS ONLY’ stamped on it, halfway down the tunnel leading outside. Lucky stepped up to him, nodding respectfully.

The guard nodded in response, arching an eyebrow.

“Your boss said that that thing you discussed the other day? It’s done. But there was a bit of a complication, and you’re going to have to go talk to him about it. He was very hush-hush about it, really vague. I guess it was important?”

The guard frowned deeply, looking each way down the corridor. “Really? Now? I have guard duty!”

“I’ll do it,” Lucky said brightly, reaching over and taking the guard’s blue cap, placing it on his own mane. “I’ll keep the fangirls away from the locker rooms, promise.”

The guard gave a long-suffering sigh, before tsking. “Fine, fine. Just give me a few minutes.”

“No problemo,” Lucky said, inclining his head.

The guard gave him a look up and down, before trotting off down the tunnel.

Lucky smirked to himself, opening the door and slipping inside. He left the hat on the doorknob, where it would be easily found when the guard returned.

Nopony really noticed the strikingly green stallion walking confidently down the hallways towards Spitfire’s locker room. He was holding a clipboard, and muttering angrily to himself.

Even a pony who wasn’t as lucky as Lucky wouldn’t have been stopped. Everypony knew that somepony with a clipboard was somepony important.

And so it was that Lucky managed to walk right into Spitfire’s personal locker room.

“Spitfire told me to replace you for this afternoon,” Lucky said before the masseuse in the locker room could say anything. “You’ll still get paid, of course.”

The masseuse perked up at that, giving a smile. “Then there is a hot little number at the bar just waiting for me to buy her some more drinks. Excuse me.”

The masseuse squeezed past Lucky, escaping through the doorway, and then he was alone in the locker room.

The locker room itself was small, but very spacious. For a single pony, it was extravagant. There was a bench in the centre of the room, with towels already placed across it, a bottle of oil of some kind, hot rocks warming in a bucket of coals, and various combs and cleaning agents all lined up neatly. The shower was already running, filling the room with steam, though it was empty still.

A door to one side was a storage room, with a mop and bucket and various other cleaning devices, while a second door led to a cozy little bedroom, dark and small, with a bed with satin sheets and softest downy blankets Lucky had ever seen draped across it.

Lucky took a good look around, discarding his clipboard, and checking out the various bits and pieces he had to work with. Once he was confident he knew where everything was, he sat down on the bench to wait.

With any luck, Spitfire wouldn’t be long. And Lucky was nothing if not lucky.

Lucky Streak

“Spitfire, we need to talk,” Lucky said seriously.

Spitfire whirled to face him, eyes wide, wings arching on reflex to defend herself. She was fresh from the arena, her tight blue flight-suit blackened at various points with soot and other detritus. “H-how the buck did you get in here?!”

Lucky arched an eyebrow, and then shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.”

“What are you doing in here?!” Spitfire demanded, scowling and closing the door, casting her gaze left and right. “And where is my masseuse?!”

“I gave him the afternoon off,” Lucky said with a wave of a hoof.

“You ruined my massage?!” Spitfire almost snarled, eyes narrowing at him dangerously. “You are seriously becoming my least favorite landlord!”

“Calm down,” Lucky said, frowning at her deeply.

“What did you need to talk to me about?” Spitfire asked, frowning at him deeply, her eyes narrowing further. She seemed to pause, before blinking once, suddenly becoming much more demure. “You’re… you’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?”

“What gives you that idea?” Lucky asked blankly, blinking once.

“You came to me here at the HQ! You’re trying to make me not make a big scene about it!” Spitfire said, dancing anxiously in place.

“Wow you are bad at putting two and two together,” Lucky said with a shake of his head, making a motion with a hoof. “Come, sit,” he patted the bench next to himself.

Spitfire frowned, but took a few steps forwards, pulling herself up onto the bench. “So… what is it that you need to talk to me about, then? Oh Celestia you didn’t burn down the house, did you? Are you evicting me?”

“Are you always this nervous?” Lucky asked, scooting a little closer to her on the bench.

“Only when my coltfriend sneaks into my private locker room after a show to confront me with this super-serious bit about how we ‘need to talk’. That is code for ‘we’re breaking up’!” Spitfire said, scowling at him. “And you ruined my massage, so it has to be important!”

“Oh, it’s important,” Lucky said with a sage nod. “I’m cheating on you.”

Spitfire stared at him blankly. “You’re cheating on the captain of the Wonderbolts? With who?”

“This cute little mare I met. Kinda shy and quiet,” Lucky said, shifting closer to the dubious Spitfire, giving a wry smile that completely ruined the effect of his words.

“Let me guess, her name is ‘C.J.’?” Spitfire asked, arching an eyebrow.

Lucky blinked at that, recoiling slightly, before giving a confused chuckle. “Wow… way to steal my thunder.”

“Way to steal my massage,” Spitfire retorted, snorting once.

Lucky shifted closer to her again, turning to face her properly, leaning in to nudge his nose against her own.

Spitfire went cross-eyed for a moment, blinking once.

“Shut up, Spitfire,” Lucky said. Before Spitfire could speak the angry retort she was framing, Lucky pressed in to kiss her firmly. His lips found her own, pressing in lightly, silencing the mare.

Spitfire growled in the back of her throat, but allowed herself to be kissed, glowering at him for a moment before closing her eyes.

Lucky smiled at that, pressing even closer and then bumping against her side, nudging her over onto her side, and then even further, a hoof pushing her onto her back.

Frowning slightly, Spitfire splayed out on her back, her wings arching slightly for balance while Lucky straddled her.

Lucky grinned down at her, reaching down to her throat to nudge her chin upwards and then grasp the tab of her zipper between his teeth. Staring up at her all the while, he started to tug the zipper down, exposing soft yellow fur underneath the blue suit.

Spitfire stared at him, watching with wide eyes, cheeks warming under the fabric of the suit.

Smirking, Lucky dragged the zipper lower and lower, nose pushing down her form, teeth tugging at the tab across the smooth expanse of her stomach, letting the skin-tight suit fall open to reveal the supple furred flesh beneath. He nose pushed down down to the juncture of her thighs, where the zipper ended, right above the visible mound of her cunt. It was right there, framed perfectly by the blue flight suit, the fabric hugging right around the curves, defining each supple inch of her perfect plump pussy.

Spitfire watched him with narrowed eyes, her wingtips flicking in agitation, before she arched and cried out in surprise as Lucky released the zipper and pushed his nose right up between her thighs.

Lucky was only there for a moment, nudging up against the outline of that covered cunt, giving a heated kiss against it through the fabric, before crawling up her form again.

“You fucking tease!” Spitfire growled, before she was cut off by an aggressive kiss from the male. She allowed it, closing her eyes with a faint thrumming sound of delight in the back of her throat, slowly relaxing underneath him.

Smiling to himself, Lucky drew back from the kiss, nudging up against Spitfire’s chin again, hooves lifting to begin tugging and pulling at the flight suit, lifting the ‘hood’ up over her head.

Spitfire allowed her hood to be removed, and then arched slightly, tugging the suit from over her forehooves, and then giving her wings a stretch and flick, letting the suit drop over it, freeing her wings from it, so that it was now pooled down around her hips. She arched an eyebrow at Lucky questioningly.

Lucky smiled at her, leaning in for another kiss now that her head was free of the suit, his hooves lightly tugging at her sides and hips, to roll her over onto her stomach.

Rolling carefully over onto her stomach, Spitfire did as his hooves urged, before a wicked grin spread across her muzzle. She lifted her hips in a languid stretch, forehooves tugging at the flight suit to push it down over her rump. She arched her tail upwards, dragging it through the hole in the suit, but keeping the suit stretched taut across her rump, hiding herself from Lucky’s gaze.

With a soft snort, Lucky reached up with a hoof, grasping the centre of the suit, right over her hidden cunny, and tugging it downwards without any hesitation. The centre of Spitfire’s body was bared to him, that tight plothole, and the smooth, creamy-yellow lips of her supply, inviting cunny.

Spitfire clucked her tongue in annoyance as her teasing was so abruptly halted, becoming quite aware that Lucky was gazing in at her plump pussy quite raptly.

Smiling, Spitfire wiggled her rump, feeling Lucky’s hooves grasping at her. She gasped faintly as she was spread, the gentle pressure of his hooves tugging her open, spreading her soft yellow cunt to reveal the shiny pink interior. Her cheeks warmed, and she swallowed thickly, “L-like what you s—O-oh fuck!” She broke off into a squeak and whimper as Lucky leaned in without warning and dragged a lick of his thick, warm tongue right up against her exposed pinkness, swirling his tongue against her at the end of it to make her shudder and her knees goes weak.

“I do,” Lucky growled, crawling back up Spitfire’s form, forehooves wrapping around her middle as he mounted her, standing over her, letting her feel his warm chest and belly against her back.

Spitfire bit her bottom lip, staring up at him, even as he smirked and leaned down to kiss the top of her nose. Her hindlegs shifted apart slightly in reflex, and her wings arched, pressing up against his belly.

Smirking that damnable smirk, Lucky tiled down to draw the wonderbolt into another heated kiss, upside-down this time, his tongue pressing along her own.

Spitfire whimpered faintly, her hindlegs quivering a little bit further, her forehooves grasping at the bench tightly. His tongue tasted like her.

Purring, Lucky drew back from the kiss, before drawing back to nibble at the very tip of one of her ears. He dragged his teeth across the smooth yellow fur, before growling heatedly and tugging on it.

A low whine left Spitfire’s throat, and she arched underneath him, her hindlegs quivering and straightening, a trickle of her moisture tracing down over her clit and then further down over her lower stomach.

Lucky grinned, tightening his grip a little bit, putting more pressure on her ear, tugging at it firmly and giving her sides a tight squeeze, even as he ground his hips against her own suggestively.

Spitfire whimpered softly, arching her hips further and pressing them back against him wantonly, her wings quivering in anticipation.

“Good girl,” Lucky growled in her ear, one of his hindhooves pressing at Spitfire’s, urging her down onto her stomach.

Spitfire gave a bewildered stare up at him, slowly dropping her rump down onto the bench, folding her forehooves, giving a light tug at her head, with her ear still trapped between his teeth.

Lucky relinquished her ear, and instead leaned down to bite at the first joint of her wing, chewing over it sensually, with soft little bites and tugs, working right out towards the tip.

Spitfire bit her bottom lip, her cheeks warming, eyes drifting closed as she stifled a soft moan, giving a breathy exhalation through her nose.

Smiling, Lucky released her wing, settling his weight on her haunches, letting her feel his hips against her own, even as he pressed down powerfully on her shoulders and began to knead into the muscles of her wings.

A soft gasp left Spitfire’s quivering muzzle, and she collapsed under him almost immediately, just melting onto the bench as Lucky worked his hooves in a slow circular motion over the largest weight-bearing muscles of her wings.

“D-don’t s-stop…” Spitfire whimpered, her wings giving a weak quiver and flutter before falling flat.

“That’s not the last time you’ll be begging me not to stop,” Lucky murmured heatedly in one of her ears, giving a pointed grind against her rump with his hips, even as he kneaded more firmly in against her, working down the length of the sore, strained muscles.

Spitfire’s cheeks flushed darkly under the yellow fur, and her hips rolled on reflex as she bit her bottom lip. Lucky laughed at her reaction, shifting to push a hoof between her wings, rubbing lightly at her spine. The movement freed up his other hoof, which he immediately used to push her tail aside, and then press directly up against her drooling cunt.

Gasping in surprise, Spitfire arched, lifting from the bench slightly, only for Lucky to shove her back down with a lustful growl. He used his superior weight to hold her down, chest holding her down any time she tried to push upwards, even as he hoof pressed in against her more firmly, grinding up against her drooling twitching cunny.

“S-sneaking in h-here… holding me down while you fucking g-grope me…” Spitfire whimpered in between soft gasps and moans.

“You could ask me to stop,” Lucky said conversationally, even as he slipped his hoof down to grind in against her clit firmly.

Spitfire’s eyes widened, and she bit down on her tongue, her entire form spasming slightly, her wings giving a weak twitch against his chest as a thicker dribble of her liquids drooled down to make a mess of his hoof.

“You could tell me to stop,” Lucky growled, leaning in to bite at the base of her ear heatedly. “Could order me to stop,” he continued, punctuating his statement with a firm grind against her again.

Spitfire shuddered and arched, her wings fluttering and flapping futilely against his chest as her hindlegs stiffened and her stomach visibly convulsed as she came against his hoof.

“Are you cumming, Spitfire?” Lucky asked, giving a soft bite to the back of her ear, smirking and rubbing his hoof against her a little gentler.

“N-no…” Spitfire quavered, voice squeaking slightly, cheeks reddening even further.

“Really shouldn’t lie to me,” Lucky growled, nuzzling into the back of her neck, rubbing against her in languid strokes. “You can’t deny how much you like this…”

“S-stupid sexy f-fucking green pegasus,” Spitfire whimpered, biting her bottom lip, pushing her hips back against him wantonly.

“Such a needy mare,” Lucky growled in her ear, giving a more firm grind up against her with his hoof. Spitfire’s rump had lifted on reflex, and she was basically presenting to him, chest on the bench, hindlegs stiffened to arch her rump upwards. “Basically begging for me to fuck you…”

Spitfire dropped her rump immediately, looking away, her ears burning hotly.

Smirking, Lucky dropped his rump as well, laying over top of the mare once more, his hoof curling around her haunch, pressing along her belly and then up against her plump cunny again. Spitfire bucked against him in reflex, whining softly, hips pushing back against him urgently.

Growling, Lucky grasped her hips with his other hoof, and started to ‘hump’ against her, drawing back and then shoving forwards with a powerful motion, grinding his hoof against her soft cunny with the motion.

Spitfire shuddered all over, her entire form quivering lustfully as she tried to push against him, giving soft little helpless groan and whimpers. She gasped, and cried out in surprise and delight as he bit at her ear again, beginning to tug at it with each of his ‘thrusts’, his hoof quickly becoming saturated with her liquids.

“F-fuck!” Spitfire squealed, her hindlegs quivering and spreading a little bit further, urgently pushing back against him to try and get more stimulation, her wings flapping, stiff and unwieldy.

Lucky pulled back from biting her ear, dragging his tongue along the inside of it, before leaning in with a smirk. “Mine…” he growled possessively in her ear, even as he shifted his hoof down to rub in rapid, firm circles over her clit.

Spitfire’s cheeks burned, and she arched, crying out in delight as a hot gush of her liquids spilled from her again, a second round of her orgasmic liquids drooling from her clenching cunt. Already, her inner thighs were a mess of her own liquids, fur all sticky and moist.

Drawing backwards slowly, Lucky relinquished his hold on her, grinning and kissing between her ears, before dismounting entirely.

Spitfire remained in her exposed position, panting hard, trying to catch her breath, her eyes clenched closed and a steady drip of her liquids drooling down off her clit and onto the towels covering the bench. “O-oh f-fucking Celestia…” she whined, slowly lowering her rump to the bench.

Spitfire’s cheeks positively burned as Lucky drew her into another kiss, and she gave a soft shudder. When he pulled back, she rested her forehead against his own, panting softly. “You are some kind of crazed sex-demon,” she murmured, licking her lips and swallowing several times to try and wet her dry throat. “I haven’t orgasmed like that in… in forever.”

“I’m lucky to hit all the right spots,” Lucky said with a smug little smile.

“Not just that,” Spitfire growled, grasping his cheeks with both hooves and tugging him in for an urgent, breathless kiss. “The way you h-held me down…” she trailed off with a soft whimper of delight, her knees weakening slightly again. “If you weren’t algae-green no mare would be safe from you.”

“I do try,” Lucky responded with a smirk, tugging at one of her wings. “Now c’mon, we gotta get you cleaned up.”

Spitfire groaned, but nodded, lifting herself up on shaky hooves, staggering in the direction he indicated.

Hot water beat down around them both, steam filling the air, their manes and tails all slick with the shower water.

“How did you even get in here?” Spitfire asked, resting on her side as Lucky dragged a bar of soap languidly over her stomach and sides.

“I crept in here,” Lucky said with a sly little grin. “Lucky, remember?”

“Still!” Spitfire huffed, brow furrowing. “This is employee-access only.. I’m worried that some random fans might be waiting for me next time I’m done with a show.”

“I had to trick one of your guards to get in here, don’t worry,” Lucky reassured, kissing the side of her neck.

Spitfire harrumped, rolling slightly onto her back, hindlegs spreading as Lucky started to rub the bar of soap over her lower stomach and thighs. “And if you’re so bloody lucky, why was the most clingy, starstruck fan ever up in the top box with us instead of you?”

“I rigged it,” Lucky said, deadpan.

Spitfire blinked once, turning to face him properly. “What? Really?”

“Really,” Lucky said, wrinkling his nose. “I swapped my ticket out for that mares.”

Spitfire gave him a bemused stare. “But… wouldn’t it be more lucky for the ticket you swapped to be the winning one?”

“Like, she would have won if she didn’t swap her ticket with me?” Lucky asked, giving a faint chuckle.

“Yes,” Spitfire said, nodding once and pushing her hips towards him lightly as the soap was pressed down over her tailbase.

“I’ve actually had that happen to me once. It was infuriating,” Lucky admitted, trailing off for a moment, reminiscing. “It was a raffle for a miniature cloud-making machine. I got a ticket because I spent ‘x’ amount of bits at the store or whatever it was. I swapped my ticket with someone else, all sneaky-like, while they weren’t paying attention. And then I still won the damn raffle.”

“So? How did you manage to beat the raffle system then?” Spitfire asked, curious, grabbing his hoof and trying to push it down between her thighs.

Lucky smiled faintly, stroking his hoof along one of her cutie mark’s instead, ignoring her ‘hints’. “I waited until the tickets were already drawn and the result was being carried up to the box and then I swapped the tickets over.”

“But what if ‘luck’ knew that you would do that, and made the pre-swapped ticket the winner?” Spitfire asked, arching an eyebrow.

Lucky gave a smirk. “I already paid the ticketmaster to remove her ticket from the draw. So when I swapped it over, I couldn’t possibly get my ticket called.”

“All of that just to not win the raffle?” Spitfire asked blankly.

“All of that,” Lucky said with a tired smile. “Anyway, if I was up in the top box, I wouldn’t have been able to sneak down here and rock your world.” As he spoke, he shifted his hoof between her hindlegs, giving a slow rub up against her plump cunny.

Spitfire gave a breathy exhalation, hindlegs tightening around his hoof. “You should sneak in here more often…” she groaned, staring up at him with lidded eyes. “Though…”

“Though?” Lucky asked, giving a slow rub back and forth between her thighs.

“Oh, it’s not really… anything,” she said, biting her tongue nervously. “Just… you don’t really… you didn’t really use your tongue.”

“Who doesn’t love having a tongue between their hindlegs?” Lucky asked with a sly little grin, nudging at her inner thigh with his nose a moment, spreading the mare with his forehooves.

Spitfire gave a gasp of surprise as she was spread to his gaze again, and swallowing thickly. “You don’t have to if you don’t wa—o-oh f-fuck!” For the second time that evening, she was cut off by Lucky’s tongue against her. But this was no gentle lick, no testing exploration. This was a hungry lapping of her very core.

Lucky’s thick tongue ground right up against her soft, pliable outer lips, pushing between them to lap firmly at soft pink inner flesh, spreading her slightly with the powerful muscle.

Spitfire grasped at his mane with her hooves, trying to push him away and tug him against her more firmly at the same time, her hips grinding and pressing towards his muzzle insistently. “F-fuck y-yes!”

Spitfire paused as Lucky stopped, his tongue pushed right against her inner flesh, pressing her open. He stared at her over the smooth mound of her belly, dragging his tongue lightly up over her clit and then back into his muzzle, smirking at her. “I am going to make you cum so hard…”

Spitfire blinked, and flushed slightly. “I doubt it…” she said, her tone half-challenging, half-begging.

Lucky smiled up at her innocently, forehooves wrapping around her haunches, holding her firmly in place as he leaned down to close his lips over her clip and the entire upper portion of her firm, plump yellow pussy. A low groan left the mare, and she lightly rolled her hips against him, a hoof lifting to her muzzle to stifle her gasp as his tongue slipped out to give a slow grind against the base of her drooling cunt.

With a wicked smirk, Lucky withdrew his tongue, and started to suckle firmly over Spitfire’s clit, letting his tongue butt up against it slowly.

Spitfire arched with a delighted sigh, her hindlegs quivering, spreading a little bit, stomach convulsing and wings fluttering wetly.

Lucky paused there, smirking up at her, before pressing in further. He suckled her flesh into his muzzle, trapping her clit against his tongue and the upper part of his muzzle, his chin wedged in against the base of her soft cunt. And then he started to suckle at her again, but this time, he suckled powerfully, hungrily suckling at the pegasus’ sweet little clit, pausing only to feather her clit with urgent laps of his eager tongue.

Spitfire’s eyes widened, and then clenched closed, and she arched against him in surprise and delight, forehooves grasping around his head. “O-oh f-fuck s-stop!” she whimpered.

Lucky ignored her cries however, diving in with renewed vigor, tongue grinding and feathering at her clit in urgent presses and suckles. One of his forehooves lifted, pressing on her inner thigh to spread her slightly, even as his tongue dipped out to grind up the full length of her spasming cunt in an eager lap.

Spitfire screamed in delight, her entire form convulsing violently, grinding and bucking against Lucky’s muzzle in earnest, hooves grasping his ears and cheeks hard enough to almost cause damage, thighs squeezing around his head and wings flapping futilely, spraying water everywhere.

After several long seconds of euphoria, Spitfire came down, splatting out on her back, spread-eagled, completely uncaring of the water splashing down over her face, panting hard and giving low groans in between slight twitches.

Lucky smirked, crawling up her form, keeping the water was spraying directly across her face, leaning down to give her an innocent kiss. “Told you so.”

Spitfire gave a tired groan, completely relaxed and almost limp as she was lead towards the little bedroom off the locker room.

Lucky pressed her lightly into the bed, smiling and nudging her cheek with his own, kissing her nose. “You have a good sleep now, you hear?”

“I can’t feel my legs,” Spitfire complained, lifting a hoof to bat at his mane weakly. “I’m going to have to cancel training tomorrow morning because I don’t think I can walk unaided after that.”

“I did good, then,” Lucky said smugly, puffing out his chest.

“You did good,” Spitfire assured, before blinking once. “But… you…”

“It’s fine,” Lucky said with another warm smile, kissing her nose, and then kissing her properly. “I’ll take care of myself before I leave.”

“Nooo…” Spitfire whined into the kiss, brow furrowing deeply.

“This evening was about you,” Lucky said simply, nudging up against her, resting his forehead on her own. “I wanted to repay you for what you did at the waterfall. Think of this as my apology.”

“You’re going to get blueballed,” Spitfire protested weakly.

“No I’m not, I’m definitely going to go take care myself in a minute. In your shower, no less,” Lucky admitted with a wry smile. “I doubt I could sneak out of here with Lucky Jr so prominently on display.”

Spitfire gave a soft whine of disappointment, before a naughty look spread across her features. She licked her lips lustfully, and affected her most pleading, naughty stare. “You should… you should send your mare to sleep with your taste on her lips,” she purred, her tone both seductive and pleading. “Give her a bellyful of your rich, warm cum to help lull her to sleep…”

Lucky blanched, crossing his hindlegs, biting his lower lip.

“Come on, you big, dominant stallion,” Spitfire whined. “Use your mare’s muzzle… Hold me down and spill yourself over my tongue. Make me taste you… send me to bed with your taste fresh in my mouth…”

“O-oh fuck…” Lucky whispered, biting his tongue hard enough that he almost tasted blood. It had already been nearly impossible to keep himself in check while pleasing Spitfire, but now, it was impossible. The half-hard length of flesh between his thighs jumped to attention, throbbing urgently for release.

“...Please…” Spitfire whined, leaning forwards slightly and parting her lips, opening her mouth slightly, lidded eyes staring up at him.

“Fuck!” Lucky snarled, rising up, the thick, stiff length of his cock becoming visible. It throbbed urgently, visibly pulsing with need. His forehooves grasped clumsily at the mare’s mane and head, tugging her slightly towards him as he leaned forwards to push his already-flaring cocktip right up against her lips.

Spitfire gave a content sound, opening her muzzle and letting the thick tip of his cock sink past her lips and into her warm, soft muzzle. She immediately closed her lips over him, gently cradling his cock with her tongue, suckling at him softly.

A low growl left the stallion, and he grasped her head, starting to hump urgently into her soft mouth, grinding his fat cocktip against her tongue over and over again, already drooling slick precum across her tongue. It was obvious from his movements that he was pent up, held back for hours, and now utterly urgent with the need to cum.

Spitfire lifted a hoof to lightly grasp around the base of his throbbing cock, squeezing and stroking, closing her eyes and suckling sweetly at the flaring tip, gently feathering her tongue along the tip of it. Each of her motions was coaxing, lightly encouraging the stallion to fuck and use her muzzle.

Lucky snarled in delight, tugging Spitfire’s head back and forth on his stiff, throbbing cock, urgently beginning to jerk his hips against her, feeling his flaring, thickening tip spreading her jaws, pressing against her tongue. With a cry of triumph, he held her muzzle over his tip, and started to pump burst after burst of urgent pony spunk right into her mouth.

Spitfire gave an indignant sound as she was jerked back and forth so roughly, before giving a moan of delight and shuddering as a rush of Lucky’s potent spunk spilled right across her tongue. It came in a fat rope, spraying thick and heavy over her tongue, coating it in the liquid lust. A second volley joined the first, backing up in her over-filled muzzle, and she swallowed thickly around his cock, feeling the warm, gooey mouthful being tugged down her throat and into her stomach. And then another and another burst came, and she swallowed those down as well, carefully timing it to swallow after every second burst, so she wasn’t overwhelmed.

After half-a-dozen or more urgent bursts, the rushes of heady spunk slowed slightly, and instead of waiting for her mouthfuls, Spitfire instead leaned forwards and started to suckle eagerly.

Lucky whimpered in delight, eyes clenching closed and hips humping against Spitfire’s muzzle as she swapped to instead begin nursing at his cock, suckling at him and swallowing repeatedly, like a foal with a teat. Each soft tug of her throat and tongue coaxed out another burst of his spunk, only for the mare to eagerly swallow it all down.

After several more urgent bursts, Spitfire started to pant hard through her nose, trying to catch her breath, having to cease her swallowing and instead let the last of his gooey load accumulate on her tongue. Her muzzle was crammed with it, a thick dribble of the musky delight spilling down the side of her chin.

And then, finally, Lucky was done, and Spitfire could slowly pull back, carefully disengaging from his flared, used cock. Her tongue lightly swiped at his tip as he exited, making sure to capture every last drop of his potent spunk before he was done.

Lucky groaned faintly, giving a hazy whine and opening his eyes.

Spitfire likewise opened her eyes, smiling at him tiredly, still trying to catch her breath, mouth full of his spunk.

With a shudder, Lucky reached down, grasping her chin and tilting her head upwards. “Show me…” he growled heatedly. “Show your stallion how much you like his taste.”

Spitfire gave a weak smile up at him, a lustful flicker in her eyes as she lifted her nose and let her muzzle fall open.

Lucky’s jaw dropped as he caught sight of Spitfire’s overflowing muzzle, her tongue, teeth, the roof of her mouth, absolutely everything coated in a film of his spunk, with a pool of it resting at the back of her throat.

Smirking tiredly, Spitfire closed her mouth and swallowed three times before she could clear her mouthful, setting to panting heavily.

“You are the sexiest fucking mare alive,” Lucky groaned, leaning in to kiss her heatedly, uncaring of his own taste on her lips and tongue.

Spitfire kissed him tiredly, before pulling back and then resting her head on the pillow. She blew him a kiss, waggling her tongue lightly. “I can taste you…” she groaned, licking her lips naughtily, even as she closed her eyes.

“Goodnight, Spitfire,” Lucky purred, kissing her nose.

But Spitfire was already asleep, smiling slightly to herself.