The front door clicked shut behind him.
Soarin’ busied himself removing the scarf from around his neck, cheerily unfurling it with a wing. “Thunder?” he called. “I'm home!”
The house—their house, a cozy little setup just on the edge of a Canterlot suburb—made no sound in response. Soarin’ blinked, slumped a bit, and finished slinging his scarf over the door-side rack. He took a moment to stomp off some of the snow and mud sticking to his hooves, wiping the worst of the crud off on the doormat. Outside the window, snowflakes whirled gently down onto the white-speckled cobblestone street.
Soarin’s wings flexed listlessly as he ambled into the kitchen. Thunderlane might have been the laziest member of the local Ponyville weather team (a reputation he was very proud to uphold), but he was absolutely incredible in the kitchen. After a long day of sweaty, shivering flying, Soarin’ would have been more than happy to chow down on some homemade cornbread, hot and flaky, with golden chunks ready to dip into tomato soup—
But then… the kitchen was empty, too. Soarin’ frowned, and then caught sight of the clock. His eyes widened, and he flinched.
Eek. Eleven-thirty. He usually tried to be home a lot earlier than that, but Spitfire had been a juggernaut today. Add in enough co-captain paperwork to keep him drowning in ink, and he'd found himself flying home through a dark flurry of light snow long after the sun had set. Tired, exhausted, and as sweaty as a yak in a heat wave, Soarin’s mind had been blank of near anything other than what he'd do when he got home, whenever that might be. A hot shower, a warm meal...and maybe some cuddles on the couch with his Thundie while the flakes outside fluttered down toward the ground. He'd expected to be late, but he'd thought he'd be getting home closer to nine, at the latest.
On tender tiptoe, Soarin’ made his way upstairs. He dodged over the eighth step, which creaked when you walked over it, and was immediately grateful for that decision when he heard the soft, comfortable sound of his favorite stallion’s snore coming from their half-open bedroom door.
Smiling, Soarin’ stepped in, his wings curling in softly against his sides as his hooves went from click clacking on the hard wood floor to pressing lightly onto the soft blue carpeting. He squinted a bit to let his eyes acclimate from the darkness of the upstairs hallway to the yellow-gold glow of the bedroom.
Snoring peacefully on their bed was Thunderlane, his muzzle poking up into the air. One hoof was tucked under a pillow, and the other was draped almost foalishly across his nose. His chest steadily rose and fell, his cute little nostrils flaring out with every exhale. His hind legs were splayed out around him, lying almost crookedly atop the covers.
He was also, Soarin’ noted with a sudden twinge of guilty interest, wearing socks.
A quartet of slinky socks, so long as to approach leggings in size, were pulled up tight around Thunder's four hooves. They were striped with alternating blue and white, and their cotton fabric looked incredibly soft. They were Thunderlane's favorites, Soarin' knew...but he only wore them when he was either feeling very chilly, or very frisky. The snow outside might suggest simply the the former, but as Soarin's gaze wandered appreciatively over his coltfriend's slumbering form, he hoped that both reasons were probably true here.
Where Soarin' was lithe and fast, Thunderlane was taller and bulkier. His shoulders were broad with muscle, while Soarin's were built for lean, agile speed. Those taut, proud muscles ran down Thunder's sides in long, smooth striations, rounding out slightly around his hips before curving out around his amazing thighs. Soarin' felt himself to be quite the professional in thigh-assessment, given his career, and he knew his boy was pro-grade in the thighs. And there, just below Thunder’s waist, where his cute butt poked up into the air, was a set of tight-fitting underwear, the fabric nestled smartly just above his croup.
Oh, gosh. The sight of it alone made Soarin's cheeks tinge with red, his muzzle curling up in an exuberant smile as he took in his Thundie’s sleeping form. As his eyes flicked over to Thunder's night-table, where the soft golden glow of his lamp still shone, he saw a familiar blue bottle standing innocuously on its surface, just close enough to the edge to be grabbed easily from the bed. Its teardrop logo somehow managed both an aura of both casual naughtiness and pure innocence at once.
Soarin's grin widened and his hooves shuffled with excitement. He glanced back over at Thunderlane—and nearly cooed at just how cute he looked. Thunder's left hind leg twitched, his cute, well-toned butt poking up another centimeter higher into the air. Utterly adorable. Thunderlane's muzzle pressed firmly against his pillow, his cheek nuzzling against it as he sighed in his sleep.
Laid out like this, it incredibly clear to Soarin' what his coltfriend had been planning. It was even more obvious when he spotted the long stallionhood pushing out from beneath Thunder's belly, its length still wet and gleaming with liquid. Dressed up with a mind to get frisky, Thunderlane had pulled on his best socks and lathered himself up with lube, more than ready to seduce his hard-worked coltfriend the moment he stepped inside.
It was so easy to picture it, too. Thunderlane, grinning to himself like an utter goof as he laid against his pillow, idly stroking his shaft, his ears perked up eagerly to listen for that telltale click of the key in the front door...
And it hadn't come. Not soon enough, anyway. Soarin' flinched, and his ears flicked back over his skull. Aw, crap. A Wonderbolt trainee soon learned how to get on with very little sleep, but Thunder woke up at six o'clock every morning—which explained the frequent naps—to report for duty at the Ponyville Town Center. Sleep for him, the lazy stallion, was absolutely non-negotiable. Soarin' could see it in his mind's eye, his sexy, dressed-up coltfriend fidgeting, yawning, his pretty stallionhood slowly growing softer as his eyes drifted further and further shut.
There was a small puddle of drool on Thunder's pillow. Soarin' grinned at that...and then frowned, cursing himself silently.
He should've been home earlier. Something in his gut twisted, and Soarin’ winced again. Thunderlane had wanted to surprise him with some sexy time, and all he'd gotten for his troubles was a cold, empty bed. Soarin' knew that Thunder would blow off any kind of apology in the morning, but he couldn't help but feel guilty all the same. He stood there, fuming at himself in dark silence for a moment, not even the drifting flurries of snow outside their bedroom window making the tiniest sound.
...Blushing a bit, Soarin' realized that, for all that he felt like an ass for missing the moment his coltfriend had been planning for, Thunderlane's ensemble really was tremendously cute, perhaps more so for the artlessly casual innocence of sleep. It was also hot. And sexy. And—oh damn he was getting hard.
Biting his lip, Soarin' peeked down below his legs, and couldn't help but grin a little as he spotted the thick, black flare of his member bobbing happily in greeting. Back on the bed, he spotted Thunderlane’s own member twitching in its owner’s sleep. Half-hard, it also had a small puddle of drool pooling beneath its lip. The poor guy, it seemed, hadn’t even gotten the slightest release on his own. He’d waited for Soarin’...and fallen asleep with a half-hard erection and absolutely no fulfillment.
Soarin’ sighed, a guilty smile flickering onto his muzzle as he watched Thunderlane’s cheek, cherubic in sleep, rubbing drowsily against his pillow.. Darn it, Thunderlane, he told himself. Even when you're asleep, you're still drop-dead sexy. The socks, he had to admit, didn't hurt one bit.
Eh, he decided. Life was too short to mope when there was a cuddly guy in your bed. Soarin' figured the best way to make amends was fill the empty space on the bed, and add his warmth to the moment. And besides...though he couldn’t make up for the lost evening, maybe Soarin’ could at least bring his coltfriend some happy, afterglow-warmed dreams.
Heartbeats later, Soarin' found himself cuddling up to his coltfriend's comfortable side, the quilt and mattress depressing gently beneath their combined weights as he shifted his mass onto the bed. "Mm. Mine," Soarin' grunted, one hoof curling around Thunder's toned tummy as his other pushed up along Thundie's big ol' shoulder. "You big, adorable lunk."
Thunder snored helpfully. Soarin' chuckled, and fidgeted a bit to get more comfortable. Soarin’s hardening shaft, now reaching a few inches above his own belly, bounced playfully against his chest as he squirmed his hips into position.
Enthusiastically spooning Thunderlane from the side, Soarin' brought both hooves around his coltfriend's, tracing his arms gently along Thunder's slim waist before meeting a tuft of warm, poofy chest fur. He played with that for a moment, smooshing out Thunder's always slightly unkempt coat beneath his hooves as his erection grew to its full length. Thunder's rump, cushioned by his tight-fitting underwear, nevertheless served as a welcome pillow for Soarin's swelling member, the leaner stallion's shaft nesting comfortably in between the small indentation left by the cotton fabric.
Soarin' took a deep breath, inhaling Thunder's heady scent. Idly, his right hoof drifted down to stroke softly against Thunderlane's half-hard length, the other still playing with the comforting ball of chest floof. "You went to all this trouble," Soarin' murmured, taking care to keep from being loud enough to wake the slumbering stallion up. "Just to make some fun for the two of us."
That squirming guilt touched Soarin’s belly again - but this time, he held it, closed his eyes, and released it with barely a shiver. The night may not have been their perfect evening, but at least Soarin’ must still be able to provide a happy ending. And besides… Soarin’s muzzle curved into a grin as he recalled the times Thundie had found himself woken up from a lazy nap with an erection prodding into his side. “You make for the best dreams, dude,” Thunderlane had chuckled that summer afternoon, rubbing his shoulder against Soarin’s as his own growing erection dribbled pre onto both their bellies.
Soarin’s smile broadened, getting a bit wicked along the edges, and he found Thunderlane’s hoof to give it a little squeeze, feeling Thunder’s pulse against his own for a moment. The day of last year’s Summer Sun Celebration, the two of them had wound up on the couch, so intertwined in each other’s arms that it was hard to tell where lithe Wonderbolt ended and bulky weathercolt began. Thunder had been so warm, so comfy, so soft that it hadn’t been long before Soarin’s length had started prodding against Thunder’s back, their drowsy hooves wrapping together as soft grunts and moans mixed with the gentle creak-creak of the old couch.
Thunderlane's mind may have been asleep, but his ever-ready libido was still more than happy to respond to Soarin's light touches. His heavy shaft stiffened, its girth swelling steadily as Soarin' pulled his hoof along it in delicate, loving strokes. Soarin' smiled, nuzzling against his coltfriend's shoulder as his own erection reached full size between them, his tightening balls pressing gently against Thunder's lightly shifting rump. The soft cotton of Thunder's socks felt incredibly pleasant sliding across Soarin's still-tense hind legs, especially as Soarin' moved to intertwine them, legs locking together as he pressed their bodies closer against one another.
The soft lubrication of Thunderlane’s proud shaft left Soarin’s hoof coming away wet and gleaming in the soft, amber light. Soarin’ exhaled, a strand of his mane flopping away against his cheek. His smile twitched and he looked down fondly. "You smell even more delicious than your cooking," he whispered softly, and held on a little tighter. A long heartbeat passed, with time pausing in their warm little bedroom, for all that the snow continued to fall outside.
Finally: “Well, then,” Soarin’ murmured. He pecked Thunderlane’s cheek, hoping that the soft sound of his voice wasn’t enough to wake the other stallion up. “No use in letting all of this go to waste, is there?”
Thunderlane's erection finally stopped growing, his flare coming to a rest gently against his chest fluff. A thick drop of pre oozed from his slit, and Soarin' shivered with glee as he moved to feel its hot, turgid length throb against his hoof. Thunderlane grunted in his sleep, shifted his weight. His well-rounded ass flexed, instinctively clamping more tightly around Soarin's shaft as his powerful thighs pulled Soarin's hind legs in further.
Soarin' groaned, too, though quietly, stifling the exuberant response with a smile. With a small beat of amusement, he reached down and felt the waistband of Thunderlane's briefs. His cock had gotten hard enough to poke up out of it, stretching the elastic band to its limits. Inside, his coltfriend's hefty nutsack was well-supported by the stretchy fabric, their rotund volumes tucked cozily away inside of the warm cotton. Soarin' grinned to himself as he began to rhythmically grind against Thunder's rump, his hoof giving Thunderlane's balls a friendly squeeze before drifting back up to the midpoint of his shaft.
Sorry I couldn't give you a happy ending before, buddy, Soarin' thought to himself. His cheeks dimpled, and he took another full sniff of Thunderlane's scent. Where other stallions were woody or heavy, Thunder smelled spicy, his arousal always twitching with eagerness and impatience. It might fly away if he wasn't careful, Soarin' thought with a chuckle. Let's give you a sweet dream, instead, he decided. A nice wet one.
He pulled both arms around Thunderlane's thick barrel, then moved to wrap both hooves tenderly around his coltfriend's throbbing length. Soarin' sighed happily as he snuggled up and buried his muzzle in Thunderlane's shoulder fur, each pump of his own hips making the sleeping Thunder's back flex in a lazy, almost comforting but oh so gratifying response.
"Such a sexy, sexy stallion," Soarin' murmured. His eyes drifted shut, and he summoned up images of Thunderlane posing for him; of that smug, beach-bro smile asking him what he was waiting for...
Thigh-high socks shifted and shimmied across powerful legs as the snug cotton of Thunderlane's briefs hugged Soarin's own shaft even closer. Thunderlane's member throbbed appreciatively as Soarin's hooves jerked it off, each lurch of his length making the waistband of his briefs groan in muffled strain.
"Gimme a flex," Soarin' panted, muffling his voice in the warmth of Thunderlane's hide. He squeezed his eyes shut and stifled a soft moan, his hips pushing forward as he humped his coltfriend's chiseled legs even harder. The Thunderlane in his mind's eye struck a pose, grinning confidently and holding one sock-clad leg up to his leg as his prime rump squeezed, both perky cheeks flexing for Soarin's appreciation as their owner pranced across the room.
"Mm," Soarin' growled softly, rubbing his cheek slowly, possessively against Thunderlane's neck. "Fucking sexy..."
His cock throbbed. Between his hooves, Soarin' felt Thunderlane's own length buck, the well-sized stallionhood obviously thirsting for more. Soarin's hooves were damp with his coltfriend's pre, and small globs of Soarin's own arousal oozed slowly down Thunderlane's back. Soarin' grinned, and gave his sleeping coltfriend's shoulder a tantalizing nibble, following it up with a soft lick.
Thunderlane's chest rose and fell in a regular pattern, his soft breaths and quiet, drowsy grunts harmonizing with Soarin's own suppressed pants. "Eager, huh?" Soarin' murmured. He gave Thunder's member another stroke, and chuckled when it flexed in his grip. "Alright then, buddy. Seems like you're ready for the main event."
Shifting his weight to his shoulder, Soarin' craned his neck over Thunder's as he reached out to the night-table beside their bed. The bottle of lube, half-open and gently smeared around the nozzle, waited patiently as he swept it up with a wing, the prehensile feathers curling around it with care. Soarin' stiffened as he felt Thunderlane's form shift under his lighter weight—and then relaxed, sighing with relief when Thunder just snored loudly and fell still.
"Whew," Soarin' exhaled. He grinned, his cheeks a little red as he pulled back into a lying-down position. He turned onto his back and tucked his wings underneath him as he got comfy. His cock, proud and fully erect, poked up into the air above his chest. A steady stream of precum went drip, drip, drip against his chest, rivulets of his own arousal running off into a puddle on the exposed sheets. Soarin' chuckled awkwardly. He'd have to wash those later; that was his part of the deal, and he'd trade a million laundry days for Thundie's cooking—and Thundie's cock, more to the point.
Idly, one of his hooves prodded against one of his overripe balls. Soarin' nearly hissed in pleasure, clenching his teeth. His fat, ripe nuts were hefty with seed, their contents pent-up from a full day of bureaucratic frustrations and constant distractions. He breathed out slowly, his eyelashes fluttering as he felt his ardent member lean forward onto his chest, its fat flare brushing casually against his fur.
Grinning to himself, he turned to the bottle of lube. He was so hard, which would make this all the easier. Gripping the lube in his wing—even as a pegasus, the utility of a third pair of limbs never ceased to amaze him—he squeezed out a hefty dollop onto his hooves before rubbing them together in growing need.
The touch of the lube to his pulsing shaft was cool, but not freezing. Soarin' clenched his teeth, shoving down a soft groan of pleasured contentment as his strong hooves worked their way into the soft flesh of his turgid member. His long cock throbbed appreciatively, the slick lubrication only intensifying the pleasure with every stroke. He curled one eager hoof around his medial ring, which was even larger than Thunder's, and gripped it tight, so tight that he nearly groaned as it throbbed in response to his hoof and his need.
But he wasn't here to jerk one off. No—even as he pulled one hoof away from his increasingly slicked member, his hoofpad still connected to his shaft by a half-dozen strands of thin, milky-white lubricant, Soarin' eyes couldn't help but flicker hungrily back towards Thunderlane's ass. So firm, round, and squeezable. Even as Soarin' ogled, Thunderlane groaned in his sleep. His back hooves pushed cutely against the quilt of the bed, digging into the mattress and pushing his well-firmed cheeks another few centimeters up into the air.
"Mmff." Soarin' couldn't help his grunt of adoration, nor could he help the appreciative throb of his cock at the sight of that gorgeous, fuckable ass. On most sexy nights, Thunderlane would get down on his hooves and knees and prop his wriggling rump up into the air for Soarin' to mount and rut. Tonight, though, Soarin' had another position in mind.
Soarin' groaned softly, unable to keep the little bubble of arousal in his chest from swelling as he carefully pushed his flare against Thunder's ready rear. He'd slung his slighter body over Thunderlane's larger one, effectively spooning the other stallion as his lighter weight pressed down on Thunder's bulkier form. Sliding Thunder's briefs down to his knees had taken an annoyingly clumsy moment of lucidity, but with them off, Soarin' had only barely managed to resist the urge to spank his coltfriend's firm, perky rear. Now, both of Soarin's hooves were curled around Thunderlane's waist, his still lube-slick pads gripping Thunderlane's pre-dribbling member with an eager, gentle lust.
Soarin's muzzle trembled, his eyes squeezing shut as he rocked his lithe hips toward Thunderlane's. The other stallion's puckered star wasn't the easiest he'd had, but it had always been the best. With a grunt, he felt the pressure give way...and a heartbeat later, he felt his flare slide in, his well-lubed shaft providing ample slickness for heated entry. Beneath him, Thunderlane groaned in his sleep, his cheeks flexing as if to egg Soarin' on. Soarin' just bit his lips, unable to stop another groan as he slid the next few inches of his stallionhood inside his coltfriend's tightness.
Thunderlane's ass was warm and slick with the mixture of the lube and Soarin's own precum. Even from the back, Soarin' could see his coltfriend's eyebrows knitting together in dreamy pleasure, his muzzle trembling as more and more of Soarin's length pushed inside of him. The sleeping Thunder whimpered with a sudden delight, then moaned deeply, almost a growl as Soarin's fat medial ring popped inside, Soarin's hefty girth spreading the athletic colt's legs even further apart by the second.
"Sshh," Soarin's murmured. He kept nuzzling Thunderlane's shoulder and stroking his coltfriend's shaft. One hoof dropped down to fondle Thunder's balls as his hips kept pumping inch after inch of his shaft past Thunder's squeezing pucker. At nine inches in length, Soarin' was a noticeable amount shorter than Thunder's twelve...but he more than made up for it with girth. A soft whimper escaped Thunder's lips, his eyes squeezing more tightly shut as the seventh inch pushed inside of him.
Soarin'—and, it seemed, Thunderlane—sighed together as their hips met. Soarin' grunted to himself, flexing his thighs with slowly increasing ardor as he intertwined his legs with Thunder's. His broad cock throbbed wetly, happy to be fully inside its fleshy home—but also eager to get the show on the road. Soarin' took a deep breath, then smiled as he heard Thunderlane moan.
"I wonder what you're dreaming about..." Soarin' whispered. He gave Thunderlane's nutsack another loving squeeze, enjoying the heft of those plump orbs against his hoof. He pressed Thunderlane's throbbing erection even more tightly against his coltfriend's chest, and imagined being able to feel Thunder's hardness against his own, inside.
There was a soft, rosy blush on the sleeping Thunderlane's cheeks, but his muzzle was curved upward. Soarin' chuckled to himself. "Showing yourself off, I'd guess," he murmured, nuzzling Thunder's neck. "Getting strutted about in front of a cheering—nah, leering crowd." He took a deep sniff of Thunderlane's taut hide and groaned with lust; sweat, arousal, and masculinity just shone off of Thunderlane's musk, to say nothing of the way it mixed with Soarin's own. "You should have been a Wonderbolt, you damn exhibitionist."
Thunderlane's soft, sleepy groan did nothing to argue back. Smiling hazily, his own pleasure rising, Soarin' shifted his weight to his knees, just enough to pull his hips back a few inches into the air—before thrusting his weight back forward. The motion was gentle, the impact light...but all the same, Soarin' found himself sucking in a breath as Thunderlane's greedy ass sucked him back inside, his own long cock throbbing appreciatively at his coltfriend's warm embrace.
"F-fuck," Soarin' whispered, his whole body quivering against Thundie. He had to bite down on his lip to keep from going further; his eyes squeezed shut as he buried his face in Thunder's strong shoulders, the other stallion's fur hot and soft against his cheek. Inhaling sharply, Soarin' drew his hips back—and then sinuously pushed his stallionhood forward again. His junk slapped meatily against the backs of Thunderlane's well-packed thighs, Soarin's own legs flexing in eager counterpoint as his girthy cock scraped against Thunderlane's slick, ready insides. His narrow hips clenched; with only a heartbeat of warning, Soarin' felt his cock twitch as it painted the insides of Thunderlane's clenching ass with tablespoons of precum.
"Mmff." Soarin' began to stroke Thunderlane's full, twitching erection with gradual intensity, each slide of his own hips against Thunder's bringing their bodies pressing closer together. "So—" Not tight, his mind told him. As heavenly as Thunderlane's rump was, it wasn’t so much tight as it was—
"—warm," he moaned softly, cooing the word as Thunder's shoulder flexed against his cheek. "And s’mine," he nickered, shuddering more. Each piston of Soarin's toned hips brought his own hefty orbs smacking against Thunderlane's ass. Soarin' felt full, felt the shadow of his release growing with each milliliter of pressure inside his nuts. He panted softly, grinding his crotch against Thunderlane's firm cheeks as his legs wrapped lovingly around Thunderlane's soft, sock-wrapped limbs.
With stifled pants and trembling moans, Soarin' pressed his weight fully down against Thunder's. The weight of their combined bodies pressed Thunder's engorged, lube-slick shaft directly against the drenched mattress of their bed, and every soft, grunted thrust of Soarin's hip sent Thunderlane's erection thrusting up between Soarin's tucked-under hooves.
Each pump of his hips came easier, each throb came closer to the final climax. Soarin' felt his legs trembling, his body quivering with the effort of keeping himself halfway between locked in and almost pounding. He whinnied quietly, his legs squeezing together around Thunderlane's sock-clad thighs as he felt his pleasure hit a peak—
Bottoming out inside of Thunderlane, Soarin' felt his turgid cock swell up in size, his girth suddenly spreading his coltfriend's rump an additional half-inch wider. He couldn't help but moan aloud, the sound of it trailing off into a soft, trembling whimper as his shaft splattered Thunderlane's warm, slick insides with jet after jet of thick, creamy spunk. Soarin's hips ground forward, twitched, as his rapid orgasm painted Thunderlane's insides white; each lurch of his spasming cock smeared another oozing rope of jizz against Thunderlane's inner cave, Soarin's ballsack trembling as his hefty nuts did their best to utterly empty their contents inside.
Several ropes of sticky spunk shot out from Thunderlane's member too, the other stallion's length bucking against his belly as it splurted thick strands of cum across Soarin's hooves and forelegs, staining the sheets below. Soarin' groaned softly, unable to restrain at least some delighted volume, his hooves wrapping tightly around his lover's barrel as finally, with a shuddering twitch, their orgasms came to an end.
With a grunt, Soarin' let his weight fall to the side. His body hit the mattress with a soft thwump, his shaft sliding easily out of Thunderlane's rear and crested along his flank. A steady dribble of cum fell onto Thunder's firm cheeks, matting his fur before Soarin' pulled himself onto his back. Slowly softening, Soarin' gave his well-spent length a small squeeze, his breath slowing as he felt the afterglow embrace him.
Smiling, cheeks flushed, Soarin' turned to Thunderlane's slumbering form. He was still asleep, the big lunk. With a half-baffled smile of adoration on his face, and a blush on his cheeks, Soarin' reached over to gently stroke Thunder's exposed cheek. "You cute, sexy colt," he murmured. "You big, beautiful stallion."
When he pulled his hoof away, he left a smear of cum and pre-cum staining Thunderlane's cheek, just above where a trickle of drool had left Thunder's pillow dark and wet. Soarin' chuckled at that, and then leaned into give his coltfriend a peck on the chin.
"G'night, Thundie," Soarin' whispered. Reaching over with his wing, he clicked the lamp off, plunging the room into sedate and silent darkness. He moved to slide his body under the covers, his torso and shoulders wriggling as he got himself comfy.
Head against his ever-favorite pillow, Soarin' exhaled, closed his eyes, and smiled. His softening member twitched one final time and then fell still, his oozing slit smearing the last remnants of his load against the warm, silky sheets.
Just as he was about to drift off into dreamland, as his eyes grew heavy and his thoughts grew sluggish, Soarin' felt the mattress depress and shift underneath him. A strong limb wrapped around his chest, a big hoof intertwining with his chest fur as Soarin' felt a warm, heavy shape roll and move into place beside him.
"G'night, Soarin'," Thunderlane murmured sleepily, and nuzzled his cheek against Soarin's. Smiling, the two cuddling stallions fell softly into sleep.
