Afraid of a Season

You feel sick, and weary, and unhappy. It's almost the end of Summer. Happiness and brilliance no longer fill each day, one and all are panicky, nervous and scared. None will speak of this disturbing shift in emotion, but they all know about it. Soon fall will be around, the days will become short and it'll be back to the dreadful grind of winter.

You sit on the fence on the farthest side of Sweet Apple Acres, the setting sun mocking you as it sinks into the horizon. Not wanting to look at it you turn your gaze to the grass, a soft wind blows it to the left. Something catches your ear, the near silent sound of someone trotting closer. A smile curls across your face, you look up to see Big Mac moseying forward, sprig of wheat in his mouth.

Oh, he makes it all better. You try to dispel your grin, but it just won't work. He says nothing, taking a position beside you on the fence, leaning up against it.

"Hey," you say, a little of your giddiness showing in your voice.

"I thought I'd find you here." There is some silence, you can't think of anything to say, and you know Big Mac won't say anything.

"You like sunsets?"

"On occasion."

"Depends on the company you're with?"

He nods, looking at the orange globe in the distance. You begin to feel nervous, afraid of how to precede.

"Are you liking this sunset?" you say, hoping your little hint makes sense to this hard to crack stallion.

He looks up at you, with a calm expressionless face, "It's one of the better ones."

You pray that means what you want it to mean. You clear your throat awkwardly. It's getting dark, darker even with the clouds gathering above.

"How's the whole mare situation?"

He shrugs, "No changes. You know I'm particular."

Oh he always says that. What does that mean? Maybe it's a hint!

"I am too. Have I ever told you? It's so hard to find the perfect one," you apply some emotion to those last few words.

He looks at you with curious, and confused eyes.

"I think I understand..."

Your eyes go wide, did that just work? Did it happen?

"Looks like it's going to rain," you comment, looking up at the dark clouds that have blocked out the moon.

"We should head inside before it comes down," he replies softly, heading off.

You hurry to catch up, somewhat excited. But also very aware that you could be getting your hopes up for nothing. The rain comes pouring down before you and Big Mac are even half way to the farmhouse.

By some chance while you and he are stumbling around the fields a small shack comes into view. You're already soaked, and so is he. You give him a smile and nod toward the little rickety thing. His pace quickens, and you step it up to keep up with him. By the time you and him get inside there is no longer any point. You brush your wet hair out of your eyes, suddenly realizing how small this place is. There is next to no room to move, you and Big Mac are forced close together, hot breath washing over each other.

The patter of rain and the huffing of you and him are the only sounds. You can't recall anytime you've been close with him like this. It's nice.

"Well, we might be here awhile."

He looks around, "Eeyup."

You inch closer to him, just trying to some of his warmth. He doesn't seem to notice, and doesn't move.

"I'm cold, you?"

He looks up at you with slightly wide eyes, head nodding slowly. Your really close now. Maybe now is the time to make a move. In a swift movement you lean down and kiss him. The night goes silent, the rain seems to stop, all you can sense is his lips pressed against yours. But he retracts quickly, stumbling back and hitting the wall, a bucket gets knocked over, creating move clatter.

"The hay is wrong with you?"

"I-I'm sorry, it was an accident," you claim, flinching.

You fucked up. You fucked up, badly.

"That wasn't no accident. Y-you just uh..." his voice trails off.

He shakes his head. He recollects himself, and steps forward, not looking upset or disgusted, just tired. And maybe a little unsure. He takes a few unsteady steps forward, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. Assuming he is trying to get close you shorten the trip, inching forward, face hot and hands trembling. Why does this have to be so hard?

You and him are within touching distance, He hops up, putting his hooves on your chest. He looks at you sternly, his face a mix of uncertainty and disturbance. You dip your head toward him—

Success! Oh this is amazing, you shut your eyes tight. It's just like you've imagined. He pulls back again, brow furrowed, searching around the room with his eyes.

"What's the matter?"

"This is a little, uh, strange for me."

You close the gap, "relax, don't worry. We can go as slow or as quick as you want."

He glances over at a bale of hay.

"Might as well go quick. An' I got an idea."

"Are you sure about this?"

He nods, laying some more hay on the floor. You take off your wet shirt, but hold off undressing further. He gets on his back, cracking a nervous, shaky smile. You return, your own uncertainty bleeding through. This could very well be the best thing that's happened in a very long time. You descend upon him, running your hand up his soft stomach.

A kiss gives you another taste of this fine stallion. Once more you notice the patter of the rain as your senses heighten. One of his hooves runs down your chest, down to your leg. It meets up with his other hoof, undoing the button on your pants. With a sharp intake of breath you slid off your jeans, your hand running over his shaft.

He lets out a long breath, shivering at your touch. You smile warmly, kissing his chest, the his mouth another time. It only gets better. He nuzzles your chest, soft mane tickling you. His musk becomes noticeably, causing the wellspring of arousal to burst in your chest. You lean into him, nuzzling his muscular neck and running a hand through his mane. His length pulses in your other hand, slapping against his underbelly with some force. You can feel the blood as it pumps. . .

You button up your shirt, just now noticing the rain has ended. Big Mac gives you a half grin, you spot some regret in his features. But your brain won't accept it, you're too focused on basking in the afterglow of what could be the first time in a series of great times to come.

"Wow. I don't even know what to say after that."

He leans up against the wall, catching his breath, "Eeyup."

"Yeah, that works."

A knocking comes at the shack's door.

"Big Mac?" Applejack calls.

Fuck. His eyes go wide and shoot to the door. He shakes his hoof at you, singling for you to hide behind something. You duck behind the door as it's the only option. Applejack lets herself in, a few drops of rain water flying by.

"Hey, whaddya doing in here?" she asks.

"Er," his eyes flick to you in the corner, "Just keepin' out of the rain."

"Well c'mon Applebloom was worryin' about you. Ya know how late it is?"

"Nope," he replies, following her out.

The doors shuts after a few seconds. You wait with your ear pressed up against the door, listening for their fading voices as they walk back home. After about ten minutes of shakiness you let out a sigh of relief, sliding down the door. Except for the little interruption at the end this has been the best night of your life.

You slip out quietly, running back into town and sneaking into your house. A shower and a change of clothes, and you're right into bed. You lay your head down, dreaming of what could be and trying to forget what stood in your way.