It was a great day to be Spitfire; Soarin too, for that matter.

To understand the full awesomeness of their day, you would need to start just before Spitfire woke up. Her dreams were swirling with her favorite thing: flying. Spitfire wasn't as fast as some of the other Wonderbolts (particularly Rainbow Dash), but her speed and agility combined were unmatched.

Her aileron rolls were tighter and faster than any other, not even Rainbow Dash could match her barrel rolls, and her reflexes had saved more than one newbie from a nasty fall: Spitfire was Captain of the Wonderbolts for a reason.

But while she flew through her dreams, she started feeling her suit rubbing under her tail. It had happened before, of course, when she didn't get her suits custom-made to give her wings more room. She turned her head up, and began ascending along with her pleasure.

The dream couldn't hold her. Spitfire jerked awake, laying on her back on her huge bed, flapping her wings. The pleasure was still there, and when she tilted her head to look down her body, she saw the reason she awoke: Soarin was half off the bed, his chin just above Spitfire's dock, and his eyes were closed as he practiced his art.

Every stroke of Soarin's tongue hit spots that got Spitfire's wings flapping again, and kept them flapping. He was the only pony she had ever been with that could stop her shouting—or at least restrict her voice to inarticulate cries.

Soarin, a caring lover, kept up his efforts. He wanted Spitfire to have a particularly good day, and waking her to a good mood was just the start. Lapping along Spitfire's folds with his tongue, Soarin timed his strokes to catch her winking clitoris nearly every time it presented itself.

When Spitfire's wings flapped faster, and she lifted her voice into a shout, Soarin knew he was pushing her into an orgasm. From experience, he knew what would shove her even deeper, and turned his head a little, then bracketed her clitoris with his mouth. Soarin sucked hard, trapping the nub of flesh between his lips. Keeping his teeth well away from her most sensitive part, he gently pressed his tongue forward into contact with it.

Spitfire couldn't hold still. Her body felt locked in the moment of ecstasy, pinned in the singular moment of bliss as only her lover could inflict. She flapped her wings wildly, she squealed, screamed, and wailed, but she couldn't move her plot away from Soarin, his wings having clamped to her cheeks—over her cutie marks—to keep part of her steady.

Her lover wouldn't relent, wouldn't stop until he had wrung her dry of pleasure. Spitfire made soft whimpers between her screams of bliss, begging Soarin to let her come back down from the clouds. But he kept her there long past her ability to struggle, and Spitfire felt her mind enter a "glide." The pleasure was all encompassing, and utterly overwhelming.

Without any sense of when he actually moved his mouth away from her, Spitfire gazed at her lover's face as it grew closer. When their lips touched, the fire between her legs finally quenched. Spitfire wrapped her wings around Soarin's back, and pulled him against herself.

Inflamed by Spitfire's hungry lips on his own, Spitfire pressed himself against her body. His shaft was sandwiched, pressed between their bellies, and he felt it pulse with his heartbeat—eager to finds its home.

Clamped to Soarin like a limpet—wings and legs wrapped around him—Spitfire felt his hardness against her belly, and wanted more of it. She wanted him to fill her, to complete her, and to swell her with his fire. Spitfire's only problem was that the kiss was keeping her from telling him she needed him.

Realization dawned, after what seemed like an eternity of their lips being locked together, and Soarin would know exactly what Spitfire wanted. She felt him slide down her body again—fighting against her grip—and she knew his plan. Releasing her hold, Spitfire flapped her wings weakly at her sides as Soarin pushed forward again; pushed into her.

Flapping his wings in concert with Spitfire's, Soarin started slow. He eased into her body, spreading her vulva and vagina around his shaft. She was tight, and always needed a slow start, but Soarin was never dissatisfied with the result. Easing himself deeper, Soarin couldn't stop a little groan as his hips connected with Spitfire's rump.

When Soarin pulled back, Spitfire let out a soft whimper, but her vocalization turned into a satisfied groan when he began the dance properly. Both athletic ponies, stamina was never a problem. She rocked her body in counterpoint to his motion, pushing and pulling to maximize the length of his strokes.

Spitfire leaned down, looked at her lover working himself over her. She spotted her target; his chest. Flapping her wings in time to his thrusts, Spitfire reached both forehooves to Soarin's chest and started rubbing. The sound of his surprised groan met her ears, ensuring she knew that she hadn't lost her touch.

Each thrust robbed Soarin of a grunt, and pulled him closer to his end. He was a freight train barreling down a tunnel. With Spitfire's massage of his chest, he was pushed into a more animalistic mindset. Older parts of his modern, pony mind took control. His body became that of an animal, and Spitfire was his mate.

Powering each thrust, Soarin couldn't stop himself from being driven to the edge of a mountain of pleasure, and then plunged right into it. He became furious with his motions. Soarin had no control over the beast Spitfire had coaxed within him, not that he wanted any.

Loving nothing more than seeing her lover lose himself completely, Spitfire felt herself being shoved along the bed with the power of Soarin's bucking. Almost halfway across the bed he finally lost it. She felt his wings grab her, felt his shaft grind as deep as he could work it into her, and adored the blossom of heat inside.

Spitfire didn't hit her own peak (what would have been her second), but she was fine with that. Soarin was like a force of nature above her. His body driven by needs and hormones, but it wouldn't last. Her body feeling distinctly full, Spitfire saw the moment where Soarin's hormones stumbled, and fatigue hit him.

Back in the real world, the world where Soarin loved and cared for Spitfire with every fiber of his being, soft wings wrapped around Soarin, pulled him down against an equally soft, furry body. He was spent completely. His body had driven itself to the peak of its breeding fury, and despite his brain knowing that Spitfire wouldn't quicken, his body didn't listen.

Wings spread, Soarin flopped onto Spitfire like a deflated balloon. He let out a soft sigh every time his tightly-gripped shaft trembled inside her a little more. Vivid, orange eyes stared at him, and all Soarin could do in reply was let out a soft whimper.

Holding Soarin with her wings, Spitfire maintained eye contact with him, and started slowly stroking his mane with one hoof. They lay there, connected sensually and emotionally, while their heartbeats slowed.

Spitfire had a slow fuse, almost as slow as Soarin's was fast. Sex between them never worked unless both were willing to make compromises. Her compromise was that he would never be able to bring her to orgasm during sex itself His compromise was the need to ensure Spitfire was just as pleasured as he was, sometimes needing significant work in the process.

Despite not knowing the pleasure of climaxing from Soarin's penetration alone, Spitfire loved letting him rut her. Soarin always got so focused, so intense, that Spitfire was sure she was dealing with a monster—a very sexy monster. "Another wave of newbies coming in today."

Soarin, still recovering his senses, nodded slowly. He thought over the words again and again until they finally made sense. "Rainbow Dash should be coming to help with them. If I could, I would have gotten Princess Twilight Sparkle, too. Remember how great they were with Sky Stinger and Vapor Trail?"

Stumbling on a reply—because Soarin shifted a little inside her—Spitfire let out a soft huff. She took a few more moments to recover. "I hope none have that problem. You notice anything odd about Rainbow Dash, last time she reported in?"

With a chuckle, Soarin shifted his hips again. "You mean since Thunderlane and her—"

"Ffff. Stop that!" Spitfire's voice didn't harden at all, despite her volume rising. "I heard a bit more about that. He hooked up with Crash and Fluttershy. Two of the Element Bearers."

"I don't envy him in the slightest. Got my wings full just making one mare happy." Soarin, predictably, shifted his hips again.

When Spitfire could stop grinding her teeth to hold back her moan, she growled. "Off, vile beast. This day isn't getting any—" Her words devolved into a groan as Soarin's hips didn't just shift, they cycled. Out and back in, then again. "Fffff…" She trailed off into a happy moan as Soarin started back up.

This time, with Spitfire already worked up, Soarin had a real shot at bringing her. He hadn't tried this idea before, but the idea of taking her twice was plenty to stir him up for the repeat performance.

"S-Soarin!" Spitfire started to push Soarin, to get him off, but her resistance melted from one stroke to the next. Then he did stop.

"Are you okay?" Stopping mid coitus was not easy for a stallion, but Soarin was concerned. "I thought you might like to try—"

"Just go, you damn, naughty stallion!" To coax her partner back to motion, Spitfire rolled her hips.

Soarin took an experimental thrust, then another. "You sure you're good?" When Spitfire nodded up to him, he returned to his full pace.

Belly to belly, Spitfire was past the uncomfortably part of the repeated stimulation, and was firmly back in "fun" territory. Her pleasure rose, thrust by thrust, but she doubted her inventive partner was going to manage to get her off. She had to admit, though, this was quite the dedication.

The rutting was swifter than the previous one. Soarin had hoped Spitfire would be the more sensitive of the two of them, but it wound up being him to loose himself again.

Spitfire loved the look of absolute concentration Soarin got in the moments before climax. She wasn't close, herself, but watching her lover take such pleasure made her feel great. His face suddenly twisted, and his eyes screwed shut, and when he slammed forward, Spitfire felt another wash of his fire splash inside her.

"Full" didn't even begin to describe how Spitfire felt. She was sure Soarin had somehow hollowed her out, or turned her into a water balloon. It felt great, and Spitfire wouldn't have traded the feeling for a dozen climaxes.

"Dammit." Soarin managed to get the word out, and struggled for the breath to follow it up. "Thought I'd have gotten you off that time." He practically collapsed to the side, and pulled himself free of Spitfire. "What's it going to take?"

Spitfire had a moment of enjoying having Soarin free of her. She loved the hollow sensation of him leaving almost as much as the fullness. Then she felt something leak from her cavity and start oozing down her dock and into her tail-skirt.

Soarin had seen Spitfire move pretty fast, but not as fast as she jumped up and bolted to the bathroom. As she ran, Soarin spotted the mess leaking from her; when Spitfire had rolled over, the result of their lovemaking had been it began running down her thighs. His pride was overflowing as much as Spitfire was.

On his back, Soarin stretched out and stared up at the ceiling. "How can he please two mares?"

"Thunderlane? No idea. We totally have to give him a nickname about it, though." Spitfire had opted for a shower to deal with her problem, and was working a good lather up on her fur. "Twosies?"

"Madness!" Soarin looked down at his body and realized he was in a little bit of a mess, too. "There room in there for me?" He rolled off the side of the bed, so as not to use the covers as a rag, and began stalking in the same direction Spitfire had headed.

Spitfire made room for Soarin. "Casanova?" she asked.

"Too obvious. It's gotta be something that nopony outside the 'bolts would work out." Soarin began scrubbing at Spitfire's back legs.

The pair bantered back and forth, planning not just a suitable nickname for Thunderlane, but also the day's training for the new recruits.

Author's Note

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