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                       Life Moves On                       
                  -by anonymous browser-                   
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                     1 Some things end                     
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1 Some things end
Some Things End
Spitfire glanced over her shoulder, looking for her detached flight of wing-mates. The sun was bright overhead, the glare made manageable by her goggles. The wind rushed in her ears, but even from this far she could faintly hear the cheers carried in the breeze.
Today was the final show of the Wonderbolts' calendar, in the skies above Cloudsdale's packed Cloudiseum. This was the final act, one last manoeuvre for the finale. The eight strong team had broken into two elements for the previous part of the routine and were now supposed to be forming up for one last close formation flight and break for the big finish. Everything had gone perfectly to plan and Spitfire's muscles were burning, eagerly telling her that they needed a well-earned rest.
There was only one problem. A cloud had come loose from a shipment at the weather factory and had intruded on their airspace, despite the best efforts of a panicked team of weather ponies. Bravo flight had to detour around and Spitfire had lost them.
“Four, One. Talk to me Soarin,” Spitfire tersely commanded into the throat-mic cleverly hidden in her flight suit. “Are you able to make the intercept? Alpha can hold in pattern if you're delayed, over.”
“One, Four, negative on the pattern, intercept in five seconds. Out,” The reply in her ear was strained, the stallion sounded like he was giving it his all.
True to his word, Spitfire saw four blue-suited ponies come banking around the edge of the rogue cloud, flying so fast and pulling so hard that Spitfire swore she could see vapour shock clouds forming on their hooves as they raced into view.
Hitting their pre planned time to the second, the whole Wonderbolt flight formed up and raced low into the Cloudiseum in tight formation, before splitting in spectacular fan break, kicking on their lightning trails at that same instant so the wildly cheering audience was deafened by a tremendous thunderclap, leaving slowly dissipating streamers of cloud drifting lazily behind them.
The Wonderbolts quickly came back to the packed arena and flew a couple of lazy laps for the fans before setting down near the tunnels to the changing areas.
“Alright 'Bolts, great show out there!” Spitfire rasped, still catching her breath as she put her goggles around her neck and pulled down the cowl covering her head, before making eye contact with each of her teammates in turn. “Excellent working around that cloud up there, really looked like we were going to have to circle around and leave the ponies down here waiting for a second there.”
Fleetfoot adopted her characteristic scowl at that, “I want somepony's butt for that mess! If it had gone any further that cloud would've thrown off the whole show!”
“It's not too bad, Fleet,” Soarin said, “we just needed to pull a few extra Gs, that's all.” Out of the corner of her eye, Spitfire noticed Soarin's right wing subtly twitch as he said it. She was reasonably confident none of the other Wonderbolts had noticed.
“I'm sure whoever's in charge over there has already laid into them,” Spitfire said. “Right, meet and greet is scheduled in five minutes, better start getting over there. Me and Soarin have some paperwork that still needs finishing up, so go have fun and we'll probably see you later at the bar.”
As the Wonderbolts took to the air once more heading for their appointment with eager fans just outside the stadium Rainbow Dash couldn't help spare a glance at the two retreating figures making their way into the tunnel.  
“They've left early a few times this season,” Rainbow ventured. “I'd bet a barrel of Applejack's best cider it isn't because of “paperwork”!”
“Well, I doubt it's because Spitfire can't wait another hour to get bucked in the showers!” Fleetfoot snarked. Rainbow Dash blushed under her suit and Thunderlane took his chance to pipe up.
“It's gotta be pretty important if Soarin's going without a peep. You all know how much he hates letting down the fans.” The others all nodded in agreement.
“Talking of disappointing the fans, let's get a move on, 'Bolts! Let's not keep those ponies waiting!” Fleetfoot barked, the team then rapidly streaking away.
The door to the spacious changing area shut with a click and everything fell quiet. Soarin and Spitfire had the entire space to themselves and intended to take full advantage of it. Almost immediately Spitfire dropped the act of being the stoic leader of the Wonderbolts and turned to nuzzle Soarin gently.
“How bad?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper.
Soarin pulled away and pulled his flight goggles off. His eyes were creased in considerable pain and he grimaced. “Pretty bad,” The stallion had to fight to get his words out evenly. “Really over cooked that last manoeuvre, huh?”
Spitfire gently nudged Soarin's right wing with her muzzle and the stallion let out a pained hiss.
“I told you you could go around instead of having to push yourself like that!” Spitfire grumbled.
“I know, I thought I could get away with it,” Soarin grumbled. “It was the last show, for the home crowd! How could I let them down?”
“But you've got to think about yourself too, what if your wing gave out completely? What would the fans think then?” Spitfire's rebuttal was still quiet. She looked Soarin in the eyes. “What would I do?”
Soarin looked down at the floor in shame, unable to form a reply. Spitfire sighed and draped a wing across his back, pressing as close as she dared to his side without touching his wing. The fiery yellow pegasus led Soarin Further into the space, with a line of lockers against one wall, a long bench along the middle and an entrance to the communal showers on the opposite side.
The two ponies broke apart, Spitfire going to the lockers while Soarin stayed near the bench and pulled his goggles off entirely. He pulled his cowl down and unzipped the front half of his flight suit and tried to pull a foreleg out of the tight material but the shifting fabric pulled at the slots for his wings. The normally stoic stallion hissed, frozen in place as pain lanced along his right wing and through the powerful flight muscles on his barrel and back.
Spitfire heard this and snapped around in concern.
“Don't strain yourself any further, just get under the showers and I'll be in to lend you a hoof as soon as I can,” she said, hoofing over a packet of ibuprofen and a bottle of water to the beleaguered stallion.
Soarin gratefully washed a couple of the tablets down with a swig from the bottle, “Thanks Spits, I'll see you in a bit,” he said before he slowly trotted out of sight into the showers. Shortly afterwards the sound of running water could be heard and steam started to drift out.
Spitfire sighed. Honestly she couldn't say that this was how she would have wanted the afternoon to pan out. She longed for the normal after show routine, going to meet eager fans and carrying out the Wonderbolt's mission to inspire the next generation of fliers and to generally encourage ponies to be the best they could be in themselves.
More than that though she missed the camaraderie with the rest of the team. They were a close knit team out of necessity and in many ways behaved as a herd. Training and flying they needed perfect discipline to carry out the kind of flying they did, anything less would be unacceptably dangerous. But with all that being said they were still just ponies, that run on incredible levels of adrenaline and were surrounded by other pegasi at peak physical fitness. After a big show like this one they would all need to blow off steam and it was those times that Spitfire relished the most about being in the 'Bolts.
The fact that a lot of the after show hi-jinks ended in debauchery had a certain appeal for Spitfire too. Being the leader of the Wonderbolts she had a need to hold herself to a higher standard and the only times she could really cut loose and indulge her wild side were in the private safety of the team's locker rooms, lest she wanted to be splashed all over the next day's tabloids.
As she sloughed off her flight suit like a snake shedding its skin, she made note of all the little aches and pains. They really were a lot more noticeable these days. She wasn't a young mare any more, although she shrugged it off, she still wasn't old! She'd take umbrage with anypony who even insinuated otherwise! If she wanted, she still probably had at least a decade left in the team. One particular twinge in a wing suddenly sharply focused her mind on the stallion waiting for her in the shower.
Soarin... Spitfire felt all of her prior irritation wash away. They had known each other since they were foals, if only in passing. They'd joined the Wonderbolts academy at the same time and quickly become firm friends. She had to admit though that they were more than simply friends by this point. They had been on and off over the years but they had become much closer in the last few seasons and now Spitfire couldn't really imagine life without the big lug in it any more. Even if she enjoyed the after show shenanigans with the rest of her team they'd also spend time together in the off seasons. Spitfire had many warm memories of spending the cold winter days curled up together under a blanket watching the snow falling outside, feeling safe and secure with Soarin's proximity. Even on a purely professional level, they had given each other the encouragement needed to push themselves beyond what they thought they were capable of. Soarin needed her help now, and spitfire wasn't about to let him down!
Nosing around the corner into the shower area, the yellow pegasus saw her friend sat on his haunches under one of the shower heads, his mane plastered to his coat and left wing drooping. Soarin had angled himself so that the steaming water mainly splashed down onto the right side of his back near to the base of his wing, which was still clamped firmly to the stallion's side.
He looked utterly dejected and Spitfire couldn't stand seeing him like this. “Hey, I'm here.” she said warmly. Soarin looked up and got a friendly nuzzle in greeting before Spitfire moved to his side, herself now getting soaked by the shower of warm water. She sat back on her haunches and gingerly reached out with her forehooves to the base of his right wing, carefully feeling the taught muscle and trying to move the limb. The stallion simply hissed in response.
“I can't believe this,” Soarin muttered. “It's what, the third time this season?”
“It's not your fault, Soarin,” Spitfire replied, having given up on trying to move the other pegasus' wing and simply massaging around the joints. “We'll get through this, we always do.”
“It's all so stupid. That just one accident could lead to all of this!” Soarin said bitterly. “I keep thinking about those Equestria Games qualifiers, of how I missed that one hoop. It should've been the easiest thing in the world to avoid!”
Despite herself, Spitfire couldn't help but chuckle, “Of course, if I remember correctly you were spending more time ogling the cheerleaders than what was in front of you.”
Soarin groaned and covered his face with his good wing. “Ugh, I was so dumb back then!”
“I know, but you've matured a lot in the years since,” Spitfire leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, taking Soarin slightly by surprise and making him retract his wing. “There's no point worrying about the past anyway. What's done is done and you can only focus on what you're going to do now.”
Soarin sighed and looked away again, “That's what I'm worried about.”
“What do you mean?” Spitfire kept working at her friend's wing as they talked.
“Do you remember when we started training at the academy?”
“Now there's some ancient history!” Spitfire snorted. “But yeah, why?”
“You know in that first gruelling week we promised each other we'd be there for each other no matter what?”
“Uh-huh,” Spitfire momentarily paused her massage, a lump coming to her throat. She really didn't like this turn in the conversation.
“I really don't know how I can keep this up, Spits. It's been getting worse and like you said, what happens if I push too far one day and end up seriously hurt or worse,” The stallion started letting everything out in a rush, “we're not really young any more and it's really catching up with me. One day my mouth's going to write a cheque that my body can't cash. I think it's going to be sooner than later. I won't be able to watch your back like I promised any more.”
“Wait, so you're going to retire?” Spitfire was shocked. “But Soarin, I thought you loved flying!”
“I do,” The stallion replied, “but what we do is extreme and it's taking it's toll. I want to be able to do basic tricks when I'm old and grey. I won't be able to fly at all if I keep this up. Besides, I feel like a foal getting myself like this, not even able to undress myself!”
Spitfire felt Soarin's wing start to move slightly without the stallion tensing up under her hooves.
“You can't help it,” she reassured, “I think we'll be able to get it off now. Chin up.”
The yellow pegasus meant it both metaphorically and literally as she moved to Soarin's front, reaching under the stallion's chin to pull at the zipper hidden under his neck. Spitfire grasped it gently in her teeth and pulled down. It offered more resistance than usual with the now sodden fabric wanting to awkwardly bunch up, but Spitfire had done this before.
Spitfire still found it felt strange though. Ponies didn't often wear clothes, but undressing another was still considered one of the most intimate things two ponies could do. Spitfire and Soarin had stripped each other out of their uniforms on many an occasion in a much more lascivious manner. But now it was all the same motion but with none of the excitement or passion. A selfish part of Spitfire wished that it was though. She was still worked up after the show and couldn't think of a better partner to ease that tension out with.
The yellow mare slipped the zipper down, the two halves of the flight suit peeling apart to reveal light blue fur underneath. She pulled it past the stallion's toned chest muscles and he reared back a bit to allow Spitfire better access to his underside. As more of the pegasus was revealed, Spitfire was getting whiffs of Soarin's masculine scent before the steaming water cascading across his body washed it away. While not particularly unpleasant, it did make Spitfire struggle a little to keep focused on the task at hoof, especially as she passed below the stallion's ribcage and sped up along his barrel.
Spitfire soon had to slow though as she reached the point she found most tricky. The mare carefully pulled the zipper around Soarin's sheath, being careful not to let the sliding metal catch on the sensitive anatomy, especially where it was pressed into his body by the stretchy flight suit and spilled out around the zip. She was a little disappointed but unsurprised that Soarin wasn't showing any signs of arousal- he was probably too distracted by the discomfort in his wing to think about what spitfire was doing. The yellow pegasus smirked to herself as she narrowly avoided getting smacked in the face by the stallion's testicles as they too flopped free.
Of course, this left Spitfire in the perfect position to proceed to more salacious activities, but she relented. She did fondly recall times like this in the past where she had helped “undress” Soarin, but had taken her time and peppered his body as she trailed down his toned body, stoking his excitement as she honed in on her prize before inevitably going down on him. The mare's tail subconsciously twitched as she remembered the blue pegasus more than enthusiastically returning the favour as well.
They had gone in that direction before with Soarin's wing playing up and Spitfire knew he'd go along with it, but was also keenly aware that the stallion's wing would be extraordinarily sore in the process and Soarin wouldn't really enjoy himself. Spitfire wasn't selfish enough to put him through that for her own sake; she'd just wait the few hours the stallion would need to settle.
Soarin looked the yellow pegasus nervously in the eye as she withdrew and he dropped back to all four hooves. Spitfire did her best to flash him a disarming smile, trying to look as confident as possible. Even if she certainly didn't feel it, they both knew full well that this next part was going to be uncomfortable.
“All right, let's start with the legs,” Spitfire said, rearing up and balancing with her wings while she pinned one forehoof to Soarin's side just in front of his right wing and the other pulling at the loose flap of flight suit hanging from his chest. The stallion awkwardly pulled his front right leg out, the tight material clutching to his limb and rolling itself inside out from the friction. Soarin grit his teeth and hissed as the suit bunched up and tugged at the slot where his wing emerged from the suit, but he was grateful for Spitfire's help. If she wasn't carefully pinning the fabric in place the pulling and discomfort would be orders of magnitude worse.
“Thanks, Spits,” the stallion breathed before going to grab the left side of his suit with his teeth. “There's no way I could manage by myself right now.” The left leg was much easier, with a lot less force being applied to Soarin's bad wing. Once he was done he was standing awkwardly under the shower with the front half of the suit awkwardly draped around his barrel.
“All right, let's get this over with,” Soarin huffed, angling himself so the still steaming water was hitting the top of his bad wing more directly.
“All right, deep breaths,” Spitfire steadied herself as the stallion next to her tensed up. She carefully gripped the bunched up leading portion of Soarin's flight suit an pulled stretching it as far from the right side of his body as possible. Simultaneously she kept her eyes on what the stallion's wing was doing and carefully manipulated it with her hooves, trying her best to listen to Soarin's hissing through his teeth over the rushing water pelting her ears and trying to minimise the pain she was causing.
For Soarin, every small movement sent fire lancing through his wing and racing across the big flight muscles on his chest and back. Even though the movements were relatively small and restrained, only extending his wing and flexing it a small amount it felt to the stallion as if spitfire was trying to twist the limb clean off. The blue pegasus couldn't help but paw at the tiled floor as he felt the tight slit in the suit pull across his wing, amplifying the sensations tenfold.
Then, almost as quickly as it had started, the wing popped free and flopped back to rest half extended against the stallion's barrel. Spitfire quickly moved to his other side and slipped the left wing free. This time was much easier and was extremely fluid, Soarin being able to flex his wing just the right way to let Spitfire slip it free without any fuss. When that was done Soarin let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. It was all clear sailing from here. Now both wings were free, Spitfire just kept a grip of the garment in her teeth and just kept pulling along the stallion's back, the garment now easily slipping off of his back and toned flanks. As Soarin's tail came free Spitfire dropped the garment and pinned the crumpled fabric to the floor, letting the blue stallion tug his hindlegs free without ceremony.
One completely free, the yellow pegasus kicked the sodden flight suit away, staring at the blue and yellow pile with disgust, knowing she had just hurt her dearest friend so badly. She was snapped from her reverie by Soarin nuzzling up against her neck. Spitfire melted into the stallion as he leaned against her. They sat down under the warm shower, the stallion unfurling his left wing and draping it over the yellow pegasus' back, who also let her wings droop.
“Thanks Spitfire,” Soarin said, hugging the slightly smaller mare tightly with his good wing. “I really appreciate you keeping the other 'Bolts away as well. I really don't want to be seen being like a helpless foal.”
“It's all right,” Spitfire murmured, closing her eyes and wriggling slightly to get more comfortable against the stallion's side. “I don't think the others would think anything less of you, but I wouldn't like to be seen like that either.”
The pair of pegasi sat under the shower head for a good while, just enjoying each other's company and letting the warm water soak in. Eventually Soarin flexed his right wing and gave it an experimental flap, still feeling sore but certainly now useable. Reluctantly, Spitfire pulled away.
“Okay, let's get properly cleaned up and get out of here,” Spitfire announced, reaching for a bottle of soap left on a convenient tray. The two Wonderbolts lathered up and showered off in a much more relaxed manner, joking and laughing as they scrubbed down and helped watch each other with the awkward spots between their wings.
Soon enough they were both cleaned up and towelled off, the dirty laundry thrown into the hamper and the pair made their way out of the Cloudiseum
“Reckon you're good to fly?” Spitfire asker her companion, who nodded eagerly.
“Sure, not far from home,” Soarin replied, breaking into a canter and getting airborne with a couple gentle beats of his wings. “Besides, a gentle flight will probably do some good!”
Spitfire launched into the air after him and flew in a lazy formation, “Best stay over solid ground, or better yet some nice clouds for a while though.”
“Yeah, I know,” the stallion replied, before flashing Spitfire a grin and laughing. “Getting into a flat-spin out to sea would be pretty bad, wouldn't it?”
“By the clear skies above Soarin, don't joke about that!” Spitfire said, her tone betraying her mock offence before she started chuckling too.
The two Wonderbolts flew leisurely in the glorious Cloudsdale afternoon, enjoying the sun and light breezes. It was a busy weekend afternoon with a myriad of colourful pegasi and a smaller number of gryphons and even a few hippogryphs weaving their way through the aerial streets and avenues of the airborne city. In what seemed like almost no time at all Soarin's cloud house came up below them.
“Take it you'll be at the bar later tonight?” Spitfire called over to the stallion on her wing. “I actually do have some paperwork to sort out at home, so I've got to shoot.”
“Yeah, sure will boss,” Soarin threw a lazy mock salute at his captain and grinned. “I'll swing by yours on the way over if you want?”
“Sure, why not?” Spitfire smirked. “Just don't be too late, we don't want to miss out on all the fun!”
Soarin started circling down to land. “No worries, see you later! Thanks again for everything!”
The yellow pegasus mare circled a couple of times until Soarin had touched down before powering off towards her own home, conveniently closer to the Wonderbolts' training grounds.
****
Unsurprisingly, the bar at the Wonderbolts Academy was exceptionally busy this evening. Perched on top of a towering mesa not far from Cloudsdale's usual position, Miramare Airbase made for a perfect location for the Wonderbolt's permanent base.
The O Club had an entrance onto the airbase specifically for it and currently there was a sizeable queue of ponies waiting to get in. There always was after a show in Cloudsdale. Luckily for Soarin and Spitfire though, they had already come onto the base to drop off paperwork they'd processed that afternoon. Instead of waiting to get checked onto the site the pair simply alighted onto the roof of the club and were waved through by the bouncer.
The two pegasi had decided to dress up a little. Spitfire in her fleece lined bomber jacket and shades, while Soarin opted for his blue dress shirt adorned with Wonderbolt pins on the collars and rank stripes on the sleeves. As they made their way down the stairs to the top level of the club the pulsing music hit their ears. They were quickly spotted by their team-mates who had already taken over a large table in a prominent spot near the bar.
The club was split into two levels with the ground floor open to anypony but the upper level reserved for Wonderbolts, Royal guards and their guests. This exclusive floor was arranged as a wide mezzanine arranged around a large circular hole in the floor which looked down on the expansive dance floor below and a large skylight above- the reason for the name of the club. Expensive enchantments kept the volume at a reasonable volume for conversation away from the dance floor, allowing for the whole arrangement to work.
As the two senior Wonderbolts made their way over to their colleagues, Soarin looked down over the railings to the ponies wildly gyrating on the dance floor and some even performing low level aerobatics in the air above it. Watching the display, he gave an appreciative whistle.
“Now, this is what I'd call a target rich environment!”
“You must be better,” Spitfire groaned, “Back to living your life between your legs.”
“Spits, even you could get laid in a place like this,” Soarin replied, shooting the yellow pegasus a wink. Spitfire blushed a little but quickly regained her composure and booped the blue stallion on the nose with a wing.
“Trust me,” She shot back with a grin, before leaning in close and whispering in Soarin's ear, “I'd love to find a colt who'd talk dirty to me.” She quickly trotted away, flicking her fiery tail across Soarin's face as she left, leaving the stallion rooted to the floor and blushing profusely.
“Hey Boss,” Fleetfoot called out as Spitfire drew near. “Looks like you broke the number two over there.”
Spitfire smirked, chancing a glance over her shoulder to the stallion who was just starting to recover from his stupor, “Some ponies just don't learn not to dish out what they can't take.”
“Yeah, Soarin tries to look tough but he's just a big softy really,” Rainbow dash said, chuckling herself.
“Hey Spitfire! Soarin!” Thunderlane called out as the blue stallion arrived at the table. “Want me to get you guys a drink? I'm just going for one more then I have to go. Don't want to be back in Ponyville too late tonight.”
“Yeah, sure!” Soarin answered quickly. “What's got you in a rush?”
As Thunderlane got up from his seat at the table he flicked out a charcoal coloured wing, flashing a glimpse of a single Pale lavender secondary feather standing out amongst the other dark plumage. It clearly wasn't one of his.
Imping- repairing a broken feather with a suitable replacement by cutting the old feather off above the shaft and fixing the undamaged replacement feather in place with a sliver of wood in the shaft and bound with glue was common amongst pegasi, especially those who were more active or prone to striking their wings against things. However in a simple replacement an old moulted feather would be used, or if one had to be donated it would be dyed or magically altered to match the pegasus' other feathers.
In this case it was a very old pegasus custom. Unicorns and Earth Ponies would get married, but pegasi tending to be more carefree and capricious than the other tribes opted for something different. When committing to a partner a pair of pegasi would imp one of each other's feathers onto the other. Both as a sign of loyalty to their partner but also demonstrating a deep level of trust, since the donated feather would be important generating lift when flying.
It isn't necessarily permanent though, as befitting the more carefree nature of the pegasi. Each year a pegasus moults his or her feathers and this imped feather will fall out as well, requiring a new replacement which reaffirms their bond or the dissolution of their partnership.
“Don't want to leave Cloudchaser hanging for too long. She's got enough on her plate with the big summer storm scheduled for tomorrow, let alone looking after the little one,” the charcoal pegasus quipped before heading over to the bar.
Fleetfoot looked over the table, “So Dash, you going as well to help out in Ponyville too?”
The rainbow maned pegasus just waved a hoof nonchalantly, “Yeah, yeah, I'll head over in the morning.”
“Sure you won't be late?” Misty-Fly, a cream yellow mare quipped.
“Well, if you want, I could race you there tomorrow?” Rainbow replied with a cocky smirk.
Misty held up her hooves in mock surrender, “No worries, I believe you!”
Soarin chuckled, before noticing spitfire had become a little pensive at his side.
“Hey, what're you thinking?” he asked.
“How Thunderlane has time for a family,” Spitfire replied, glancing over towards the bar. “He's always busy training or going to outreach programs.”
“Well, it's like you always say,” Soarin said, nudging her gently, “if something's important, you make the time.”
“Huh,” Spitfire mused quietly, “guess I should learn to practice what I preach.”
“What was that?” Soarin asked, not quite able to hear.
“Oh, nothing,” Spitfire quickly looked away, “just thinking to myself.”
“Well,” Soarin chuckled, “I'm just surprised Thunderlane's lasted as somepony's bondmate long enough to start a family.”
“Oof,” spitfire groaned. “Don't let him catch you hearing that!”
The evening went well, despite Thunderlane's early exit. Drinks were had and the Wonderbolts swapped stories from the season and from the past. It was at this point that Rainbow Dash pointed to one of the framed photographs adorning the walls of the club. It was the Wonderbolt team from years ago, well over a decade old. Most of the team was different, but Spitfire could be seen stood proudly in the number two spot, with Soarin and a couple of the others mixed in too. The lead pony was a middle aged, olive coated mare with a red mane that was just starting to go grey.
“What was it like back then, under the old lead?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“Old Red Top? Now there was a dedicated flyer if ever I saw one,” Fleetfoot said. “We thought she'd never retire! She kept saying they'd have to prize the job from her cold, dead hooves if somepony wanted to take it from her!”
“She was a good flight lead though,” Soarin added. “She did a really good job of training us too, especially Spitfire. I think Red saw a lot of herself in Spits.”
“Yeah, there's no way any of us who worked under her would be where we are today without her.” Spitfire added. “The Wonderbolts were her entire life, really.”
Rainbow looked thoughtful, “That must have been quite the shock when she retired. Have you spoken to her lately?”
“Of course,” Spitfire quickly replied. “I caught up with her just a few months back, she's doing all right.”
“That's good to hear,” Fleetfoot chimed in, “it would be nice to see if we could get another reunion set up soon.”
“Sounds like a great idea. In the meantime however,” Spitfire agreed, before lifting her glass. “To all Wonderbolts, past and present!”
The toast was met with raucous approval and clinking of glasses.
****
The moon had risen well into the sky by the time the Wonderbolts started to drift away from the club. Soarin and Spitfire left together, flying leisurely back towards Cloudsdale. The yellow pegasus was pleasantly buzzed from a few rounds at the club and felt her inhibitions loosened.
“Hey, Soarin?” Spitfire called. “About what you said earlier, in the showers.”
Soarin tensed for a moment before replying, “Yeah, what about it?”
“You're really thinking of throwing in the towel?” the yellow pegasus asked. “Not doing another season?"
The blue stallion sighed, looking down at the dark landscape passing below, “No, I don't think so. I didn't want to say anything tonight and ruin the mood. Everypony deserved a party after a great show.”
“Yeah it would have been a real downer,” Spitfire agreed, looking over at her companion. “Still, it's weird to think about. Honestly I never really thought much about the future. I was always wrapped up in keeping everything going. Kinda thought everything would last forever, you know?”
“Heh, I don't think you're the first pony to think like that,” Soarin chuckled. “I was the same until the wing started flaring up a couple of years ago. Still, things do change.”
“They do,” Spitfire agreed. “I've been thinking a lot about what you said earlier. I think you made the right decision. If you keep pushing yourself to the limits you'll injure yourself permanently. I don't think I could live with myself if that happened.”
“Thanks, Spits,” the blue stallion was pensive. “I guess you've never really thought about what you'll do after the Wonderbolts yourself then?”
“No, I haven't,” the yellow pegasus admitted.
“Well, I guess you won't have to worry for years yet,” Soarin chuckled. “I'll bet you'll end up just like Red Top.”
“I don't want to be like Red top!”
“What?” Spitfire's sudden outburst took the blue stallion completely by surprise and he came to a stop, hovering gently in mid-air. Spitfire took notice and came into a hover facing him.
“What do you mean?” Soarin asked, confused. “I thought you always wanted to follow in her hoofsteps?”
“I used to,” Spitfire said, “But you remember I said I went to visit a while back?”
“Yeah, just back at the club, why?” the blue stallion was still very confused. “You said she was doing fine.”
“She is,” Spitfire explained, “but we're not as alike as you think. She put everything into her flying. Over the years everypony she's ever been close to has drifted away as she was consumed by her work. But she's always been happy with her own company.”
Spitfire looked down at her hooves, “I don't want to be alone, not like that.”
“That won't happen, Spitfire, trust me,” Soarin was suddenly serious.
“How can you be so sure?” Spitfire asked. “You're leaving, and...” Spitfire trailed off and turned away.
“And what?” Soarin said, fluttering over and putting a hoof on her shoulder.
The yellow pegasus hesitated, then took a deep, shuddering breath.
“I love you, Soarin!” she suddenly blurted out.
“I know,” Soarin replied, quietly.
“You're my rock and I don't know what I'm going to do when you're gone -” The fiery pegasus suddenly stopped, then paused for a moment “- wait, what did you say?”
Soarin moved in front of her, noticing the tears in the corners of her eyes.
“I said I know,” the stallion said, smiling. “Is that what's gotten you so worked up? You thought I was leaving you for good?”
“Uh-huh,” the yellow pegasus nodded demurely.
Soarin swept her up in a bear like hug.
“Oh you silly little pony. I'll always be with you, I just won't be able to fly with you in the Wonderbolts any more.”
Soarin suddenly snorted, “If you think it's that easy to get rid of me you'll be really disappointed!”
“Do you really mean it?” Spitfire asked quietly.
“Of course,” the stallion answered softly. “In fact I've felt the same way about you for a long time now.”
Spitfire sighed happily, before whispering in his ear, “Well, you'll have to prove it.”
Soarin broke away and looked at her, “How?”
The yellow pegasus looked back at him with half lidded eyes and a playful smirk.
“Take me to bed or lose me forever!”
Soarin put on a smirk of his own, “Show me the way home, honey!”

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                2 Some things stay the same                
//-------------------------------------------------------//
2 Some things stay the same
Spitfire ended up heading back to Soarin's house. It was further to fly but she thought his bed was more comfortable for what she was planning. After they had piled through the front door, before it had even finished swinging shut the two pegasi were locked together in a passionate kiss, the smaller fiery mare locking her hooves around Soarin's neck and pulling him closer.
Spitfire's tongue probed at Soarin's teeth and he quickly opened his mouth, allowing her entry. The mare could taste the cider from earlier in the evening in the kiss as their tongues playfully fought for dominance. After a short eternity, but still less than either would have liked, the two pegasi broke apart, gasping for air.
“Goddesses, you have no idea how much I've wanted to do that after today's show!” Spitfire panted.
“Heh, I think I have some idea,” Soarin replied, leaning in to gently grasp a yellow ear before swiftly moving down and kissing and nibbling at the lithe pegasus' neck, starting to push the collar of her fleece lined jacket out of the way.
Spitfire let out a soft moan at the sensations but forced herself back from the stallion, in spite of almost every fibre of her being urging her not to, “Soarin, stop,” she breathed.
The stallion backed off immediately and his ears flattened, “Sorry, I thought you wanted-”
“Oh yes, I absolutely do!” Spitfire quickly cut him off. “But I've got something special in mind and didn't want to get carried away and spoil it.”
“Oh?” the stallion perked right back up, intrigued.
“Just wait down here a sec, I'll call when you can come up.”
Spitfire slowly made her way up the stairs, exaggerating the sway of her bare rump and flicking a wing out at the end of each sway for emphasis. Her fiery tail swung with each step, allowing Soarin teasing glimpses of the treasure beneath. At the top of the stairs, the lithe pegasus looked over her shoulder at the captivated stallion down below and winked at him, before quickly darting into the bedroom and slamming the door behind her.
Soarin couldn't help but pace around the ground floor of his home as he waited for Spitfire to beckon him but by the fifth lap he took his clothing off and tossed it into the washing machine before he flew to the upper floor and just sat waiting out in the hallway, his tail thrashing impatiently. He didn't know what could possibly take so long but he resolved himself to be a gentlecolt and not try to peek through the keyhole. After what felt like forever, Soarin heard Spitfire shout for him to come in. The eager stallion almost tripped over himself in his rush but managed to catch himself at the last possible moment and swung the door open as normally as possible instead of simply bursting in. His eyes went as wide as dinner plates and his thundering heart skipped a beat at what he saw.
Spitfire lounged seductively on the bed, her hindlegs just hanging off the edge facing the door and tail flagged high to one side, her wings already half raised away from her body and her chest fur fluffed up. The mare was wearing long stockings on all four legs, striped in the signature blue and yellow of the Wonderbolts. The stockings on her back legs framed her burning phoenix cutie mark and were carefully attached to a blue garter belt, made of material so thin it was translucent, itself framing a pair of panties that replicated the pattern of the flight suit the mare had been wearing just hours previously. Topping it all off, Spitfire had a pear of flying goggles strapped around her forehead as she looked back at Soarin with one half lidded eye.
“Since I helped you out of your clothes earlier, I thought you could return the favour,” the yellow pegasus said huskily.
Soarin could only stand there dumbly in shock, immediately feeling pressure start to build between his legs.
“I take it by your slack-jawed impression that you approve?” Spitfire teased.
Soarin nodded dumbly, before frowning slightly, “How did you sneak all of this in here?”
“My jacket has a lot of pockets,” the mare replied.
“You had them with you the whole evening?” Spitfire nodded in reply and Soarin whistled. “Naughty filly!”
Spitfire flushed a little and looked up, “I did have to borrow your goggles though.”
“Don't sweat it,” Soarin casually brushed it off. “Right now they look better on you than they ever did on me. Goddesses, you're so sexy!”
Spitfire grinned and rolled over on the bed like a cat, “So, are you just going to admire the view all night or come and get things started?”
Like a blue lightning bolt Soarin flew to the bed and climbed over the mare, careful not to tread on her outspread wings. Their lips immediately locked in a heated kiss as their hooves started roaming, Spitfire's velvety legwear making her stallion shiver at the unusual, soft touch. Spitfire moaned into the kiss as Soarin grabbed at a sensitive cutie mark before trailing the hoof up her back to gently massage between her wings.
With his hoof pinned between a squirming mare and the bedsheets, Soarin felt he didn't have enough leverage and rolled them so they were moth lying on their sides. In this new position, Soarin could press and massage the base of her wings much more firmly and started peppering kisses and nibbles down the yellow mare's neck, causing her breath to hitch. Soarin kept travelling along the mare's back until he reached the base of a wing. The stallion gripped the base of the appendage gently with his teeth, using his tongue to gently probe the scapular feathers on the leading edge of her golden yellow wing, while still massaging the powerful flight muscles on her back and barrel with a free hoof.
Spitfire couldn't help but flop her head into the pillows and let out a low, satisfied moan. The quills of a pegasus' feathers bed into skin tightly packed with nerve endings so they can instinctively feel air flowing over their wings in flight and make tiny, minute adjustments with the delicate control muscles. All of these nerves were being excited by the blue stallion's careful preening and sent shivers of pleasure racing up Spitfire's spine.
Soarin continued outwards, towards her wing tips where it was even more sensitive, giving her alula a tweak earned him a pleasured gasp from the mare rapidly becoming putty in his hooves. It was a familiar dance, he had preened her like this more times than he could remember over the years. It was a point of pride that he had learned every little tweak and nudge that excited the yellow mare while leaving every feather behind in perfect condition.
Preening like this was a deep show of trust between partners. If not careful it would be easy to leave feathers out of place requiring more self preening later or, more seriously could damage vital flight feathers. In casual encounters wing play would rarely happen.
Right now Spitfire was in heaven as the blue stallion carefully tweaking a primary before running it through his mouth and carefully zipping together and loose or frayed barbs, all the while bending it just enough to magnify the oh so subtle sensations of his ministrations. The mare felt the excitement building in her core and her tail started twitching as she felt heat building between her legs. As Soarin worked back along Spitfire's wing through towards her secondaries her marehood flexed and winked, her clit rubbing against her taught panties in the process. The material was different to her flight suit, offering slightly more friction and adding to the sensations. The mare was on the verge of losing control altogether and decided to take charge, so she carefully removed her wing from Soarin's grip and scrambled over to her knees, panting.
“All right, enough of that for now,” she gasped, trying to sound as authoritative as possible given the situation. “Against the headboard.”
Soarin moved to comply, sitting up and resting his back against the head of the bed, his wings splayed to either side and his hind legs spread slightly. The look on the lithe mare's face was almost predatory as she crawled up to the stallion, noting that his cock had already slipped from its' sheath but was still relatively limp, flopping around under gravity but noticeably twitching with excitement as Spitfire eyed it up.
The mare playfully pounced like a cat, kissing and nuzzling her stallion, grinding her covered mound against his dick while the two pegasi pawed at each other like they were teenagers again. Spitfire nibbled at Soarin's neck as she rocked her hips against him, feeling his stallionhood stiffen between them, rubbing over her covered pussy and teats. When the yellow pegasus felt his erection throbbing and stiff under her, she looked Soarin in the eyes with the most “come hither” look she could muster.
“Time to really get this show started,” she purred, and crawled down the stallion's body, kissing and licking at the well defined muscles on his chest as she went. Quickly she was between his legs, and took a moment to admire his mottled penis, standing proud and twitching gently in time with Soarin's heartbeat, sniffing at his musky, masculine aroma before diving in.
The experienced Wonderbolt started off slow, opening her maw and gently sucking and licking from the base of his shaft, mapping every bulging vein with her tongue. As she got to the medial ring she gave it the lightest tug with her teeth, making her stallion gasp and squirm above her, before she licked all around it, all the while staring innocently into Soarin's eyes.
The blue stallion was enjoying himself immensely as Spitfire continued to work, taking a hoof and rolling a testicle in it, marvelling at the perfect heft of it and gently massaging it before moving onto the other, all the while still moving up towards the flared head of his cock. The yellow mare licked the ridge at the back of the sensitive head of the stallion's penis, eking out the teasing before she got started in earnest.
Spitfire couldn't hold out for long though and moved to the tip of Soarin's cock, swiping her broad tongue over the flat head in one sensuous motion, making the stallion shudder. So far the stallionhood hadn't really tasted of anything, just clean skin from the earlier shower and just the barest hint of sweat from the flights to and from the club. But now as the mare's tongue passed over his urethra she picked up some of the excited stallion's pre. Strangely sweet and salty simultaneously, and undeniably male, it sung to the most primitive parts of Spitfire's brain and she loved it.
The yellow mare carried on licking around the wide, flat head while now running a silken hoof up and down his length, coaxing more precum out and lapping the beads up with her skilful tongue as they formed. Spitfire was enormously pleased to see that by now Soarin had been reduced to the same state of bliss that he had reduced her to just minutes before, and decided to turn things up further.
Stretching her mouth wide, she carefully worked the tip of his cock into her mouth, all the while lashing her tongue against his underside. When she felt the tip threaten to bump the back of her throat her lips were just touching his medial ring. The yellow mare started to slowly bob up and down, savouring the spire like a particularly delicious popsicle, pulling back to just the tip before slowly working her way down again. Spitfire couldn't ignore the burning wetness between her legs any more and almost subconsciously snaked a hoof down between her thighs to rub at her mound through her taut panties.
Soarin's dick throbbed appreciatively and the stallion groaned, turned on beyond measure at the sight of the fiery pegasus now almost demurely sucking him off. The yellow mare took a deep breath through her nostrils before relaxing her throat as much as she could and slowly pushing down, feeling the fat head of Soarin's cock bumping against the back of her throat making her gag a little. The first time after a while was always tricky. The yellow pegasus screwed her eyes shut and her ears flattened against her head as she concentrated, working the cock into her gullet almost agonisingly slowly. The medial ring slipped past her jaws as she sank lower, her throat stretching out around the stallionhood. Reflexively swallowing around the thick piece of meat, Spitfire slowly worked more of him into her. It was difficult, but Spitfire was nothing if not determined. She hadn't let anything beat her yet and she wasn't about to now.
The yellow pegasus kept making agonisingly slow progress, moving only a fraction of a centimetre at a time, but Soarin was in heaven, it had been a long time since Spitfire had gone down on him like this and the feeling of her tight throat stretching around his girth and reflexively tugging at it all the while Spitfire was involuntarily making extraordinarily obscene moans around his pride was testing his willpower not to simply give in and blow his load down his mare's throat right now! The yellow mare's nose bumped into soft fuzz on Soarin's pelvis and her wings twitched as the little pony in her head did celebratory aerobatics. She still had it! Spitfire could only hold it for a few seconds though. She'd been unable to breathe this whole time with Soarin's shaft blocking her throat and even though her pegasus anatomy meant she could cope with lower levels of oxygen than any of the other tribes of pony her lungs were still burning, screaming at her for air. Reluctantly, she quickly pulled herself off the throbbing stallionhood and started gulping down great lungfuls of precious oxygen.
“W-wow, that was incredible,” Soarin panted.
“We're not done yet, stud,” Spitfire growled as she wiped her streaming eyes, her voice much more hoarse than usual. “This time I'm not going to stop until you finish.”
Spitfire guided Soarin's hooves to the back of her head, next to her ears, “Just let me up if I tap, OK?” Her unoccupied hoof squeezed at one of Soarin's cutie marks for emphasis.
The stallion nodded eagerly and Spitfire went back to work, taking his cock back into her throat and allowing Soarin to guide her motion with the hooves on her head. As always, he started off slowly and carefully, as if the mare would break at the lightest touch. Gradually he started gaining confidence and started jerking her on his dick more quickly and swabbing her throat more deeply. This was more like what Spitfire was after. One of her deeper fetishes was to be used carelessly for a stallion's pleasure, reducing her mouth and throat to little more than a cocksleeve. It had taken a long time to get Soarin to open up to the idea, he really was a big softy. Even now as he was really starting to get into it, his back arching in pleasure Spitfire could feel the care in every motion just behind the roughness. The stallion really didn't want to hurt her and if she was being honest Spitfire couldn't help herself love him for it. A lot of stallions would simply give in to their own pleasure without any restraint at all.
Occasionally taking Soarin out of her throat to snatch a breath she was really starting to get face fucked now, the blue stallion's hips gently thrusting up to meet her descending face. Reflexive tears were streaming from her eyes and she was making obscene gluking noises around his head each time the stallion plunged himself into her throat. Already turned on beyond belief, Soarin knew he couldn't hold out for long even if he wanted to, pent up as he was.
“I'm close!” he breathed.
Spitfire simply hummed around him and came up one last time for air before redoubling her efforts, driving herself onto him even harder than the stallion was guiding her to. Pressure started to build rapidly deep in the stallion's pelvis. Spitfire felt the broad head start to swell and quickly drove herself as deep as she comfortably could before his flare expanded and became rigid, stretching her throat to uncomfortable limits and locking in place. The yellow pegasus threw her hooves around the stallion's waist as he bucked and jerked, trying to blink the tears from her eyes to see the adorable expressions on his face as she bought him to he highest peaks of pleasure he was capable of.
Spitfire felt the heavy throbbing in Soarin's cock as he lost all control, almost able to feel the first heavy pulse racing up through her mouth inside him. She started swallowing before the initial load, both bracing herself and making Soarin see stars in the process. The stallion's cockhead erupted deep in the mare's stretched throat, almost forcing itself down into her stomach. Spitfire eagerly swallowed the heavy cum, loving the feeling of it sliding the rest of the way down her throat.
Soarin's flare started to soften in the last couple of pulses and Spitfire pulled up off of him, the last weak dribble pouring out over her tongue, giving her a taste of his virile seed. She couldn't help but cough and splutter a little as his softening stallionhood came out of her mouth, trying to catch the lewd spray of cum and spittle with a foreleg. After Spitfire had caught herself she turned to Soarin and made an exaggerated show of swallowing what she had left in her mouth before opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out.
“Enjoy yourself there?” she asked, wiping her eyes with a clean towel she'd strategically placed next to the bed before cleaning her leg and mouth off. She didn't want to stain these socks!
“It's like I've died and gone to paradise,” the stallion answered, now sprawled out flat on his back.
“That good, eh?” Spitfire purred, crawling back up to Soarin. “I hope you're not done yet though.”
“Oh no, not by a long shot,” the blue stallion replied, bringing the yellow mare in for a kiss and wrapping his hooves around her. This time they were more restrained, although Soarin could still taste hints of himself in Spitfire's mouth. He didn't mind though, he'd returned the favour often enough.
The fiery pegasus was content just to be held, gently grinding herself against one of his legs while Soarin basked in his afterglow, gently smooching and nuzzling one another. The blue stallion gently moved a hoof down between the mare's legs and gently started to stroke and massage her mound, stimulating her clit through her panties. Spitfire purred appreciatively and pressed eagerly into a kiss with Soarin, their tongues dancing as the orange pegasus arched her back and rubbed herself more vigorously against her stallion.
Soarin broke the kiss and pulled the squirming mare more closely against himself with his spare hoof, earning a series of pleasured gasps as he nibbled at her ear then started nibbling down her neck, all the while keeping a hoof rubbing between her legs.
Spitfire realised where things were going and tried to pull away.
“Wait a sec there, Soarin,” she gasped.
The stallion immediately stopped what he was doing and let her roll away, looking at the orange mare with concern.
“What's wrong, are you all right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” Spitfire replied, reaching down to fiddle with the straps of her garter, “I just want to get these off.” Spitfire reached down with her forehooves to start pushing down her panties.
Soarin reached down and stopped the mare's hooves.
“Allow me,” he said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
The orange pegasus groaned and rolled her eyes but a smirk tugged at the corners of her lips.
“Well, I did say I wanted you to do some undressing,” she replied, rolling onto her side.
The blue stallion grinned and shuffled down the bed, kissing and nipping teasingly at Spitfire's toned chest and stomach, eliciting a giggle from the mare. When Soarin reached the thin strip of material across the top of Spitfire's thigh he gently gripped it in his teeth and slowly pulled it down. Soarin nuzzled the image of a burning phoenix on Spitfire's flank as he carried on gently tugging at the garment, eliciting a soft moan from Spitfire; her cutie-marks were especially sensitive.
Soarin internally lamented that in this position he wouldn't be able to see the fabric revealing Spitfire's teats or peeling away from her sopping marehood, but his hardening cock twitched at the thought of it. The fiery mare wiggled her hips to help the stallion undress her.
Soarin tossed the sodden garment away and looked down at Spitfire. She was looking at him over her shoulder, blushing heavily. Her tail was flagged up, sprawling over the bed, giving Soarin an unobstructed view of Spitfire's marehood. The outer lips were swollen with need, allowing a tantalising sliver of bright pink visible between them. As Soarin looked, Spitfire's pussy winked open, flashing her clitoris out into the open for a heartbeat and spreading herself open in a flash before retreating, adding another small amount of moisture on her outer lips.
The stallion repositioned himself, gently rolling Spitfire onto her back and moving between her legs. Spitfire laid her head back and sighed as Soarin started peppering her inner thighs with kisses and nibbles, venturing close to the source of her tension but teasingly veering away, instead moving up to take a nipple in his mouth and sucking gently on it. Spitfire let out a gentle huff at the sensation, the stallion moving a forehoof to massage the other teat simultaneously.
As the first nipple became erect in his mouth, Soarin switched to the other mound and started lavishing licks onto Spitfire's second teat. The mare moaned and tried to grind her hips up towards the stallion, her engorged pussy desperate for attention and winking incessantly, but he just kept tenderly massaging the small mounds of her teats.
“Soarin, please!” Spitfire pleaded. “Stop messing around and just eat me out already!”
The stallion quickly moved to oblige, letting go of the nipple in his mouth and pressed his muzzle into her engorged slit. He didn't give any pretence to subtlety, diving right in and pushing his tongue in as deep as it could go before gently rubbing his tongue against her clitoris, positioning his mouth so the nub rubbed against his lips during her frequent winks.
Spitfire's back arched off of the bed, her spread wings twitching. Her hips ground desperately into Soarin's muzzle as her stocking clad forehooves held his head in place between her legs.
“Oh goddesses, Soarin! Please don't stop!”
The stallion had no intention to. He was relishing the moans and gasps coming from the pegasus mare who was normally so gruff in public. Soarin could feel the fiery mare's tunnel trying to clench down on his tongue and the grip of her thighs and hooves was almost uncomfortable. Soarin knew all of Spitfire's most sensitive of spots, working each of them over in turn, alternating with deep licks into her tunnel to gentle nips outside, occasionally teasing her winking clit with his muzzle or a swipe of his tongue. The mare arched her hips, trying to thrust into Soarin's face all the more, all the while moaning like the sweetest of music to Soarin's ears.
“I'm so close!” Spitfire breathed.
Soarin rubbed at the mare's cutie-marks with his hooves and when her next desperate wink came the stallion gently captured the engorged bud with his lips, sucking gently and swiping his tongue over the tip. That was all it took to send Spitfire spiralling over the edge. Her entire body trembled as her tunnel rhythmically clenched down on nothing and she splashed copious amounts of juices into Soarin's muzzle. The stallion lapped up as much as he could, prolonging Spitfire's orgasm with gentle ministrations.
Spitfire's peak eventually came to an end and she relaxed her grip on Soarin, who carefully moved over her, carefully stepping over the wings haphazardly splayed out over the bed. Spitfire looked up at him with half lidded eyes, still catching her breath. Soarin leaned in and nuzzled her.
“Enjoy yourself?” he whispered huskily into her ear.
“Mmm.” Spitfire murmured, moving to catch Soarin in a gentle kiss, heedless of her own taste still lingering on his lips, dimly aware that the stallion was returning the favour from earlier in the evening. Shifting her hips, Spitfire felt something prod against one of her thighs, dragging on the straps to her garter. Stealing a glance down, she could see Soarin's stallionhood back to full mast.
“Looks like somepony's ready to go again,” she said.
“Well, I just reduced the sexiest mare alive to a puddle on the bed, can you blame me?” Soarin replied with a cocky smirk.
Spitfire playfully batted at him with a forehoof. “You want to watch that ego before you can't fit out of the door!” Spitfire giggled. She quickly regained her composure and reached up to stroke Soarin's shoulders with her stocking clad hooves, giving him a smouldering look as she did so.
“Still sexiest mare alive, huh? I guess flattery will get you anywhere,” Spitfire huskily breathed. “Come on and rut me, you big goof.”
Soarin rolled his hips, feeling the flared flat tip of his cock dragging across Spitfire's velvety fur, seeking it's familiar target between her legs. With practised ease he quickly found the hot, slick treasure and pressed his cockhead gently against her engorged lips, just enough to slightly part her entrance. Feeling the marehood flex and wink, slightly pulling itself apart, Soarin simultaneously thrust, suddenly pushing his flared tip into her warm, welcoming embrace.
Spitfire drew in a breath at the sudden penetration, gripping Soarin more tightly. The stallion knew that Spitfire greatly enjoyed the initial thrusts into her while she winked and slowly worked his way in an inch at a time. No matter how often they'd done this over the years, Soarin couldn't help but revel in the sensation of her hot slick walls hugging his dick, fitting perfectly snugly like a glove.
Soarin stayed still for a moment. Spitfire loved the intimacy of this position, able to bury her face in his shoulder and enjoy their closeness. She felt safe and secure in the stallion's embrace, able to feel his excited heart beating in his chest and also more pointedly pulsing through his stallionhood buried deep inside her. On occasion, the two pegasi would spend a lazy morning spooning and mating slowly and softly, letting time run slowly by like honey.
Today however, Spitfire wasn't in the mood for that sort of thing. She needed rutting. She rocked her hips back and forth, grinding Soarin's cock within her. The stallion got the hint and slowly withdrew, his medial ring rubbing over her clitoris and flared head rubbing all along her canal as it withdrew. Instinctively, Spitfire's marehood flexed and winked, trying to pull the stallionhood back in, to fill the sudden emptiness it left. With only the flat head of his cock still in her clasping pussy, Soarin thrust back in one smooth stroke.
“You have no idea how much I've needed this,” Spitfire moaned, “it's been too long.” In truth, after the earlier show, riding high on the waves of adrenaline she'd wanted nothing more than to jump Soarin in the showers but his wing had prevented it. Spitfire wouldn't dare voice this though, it would only make Soarin feel even worse about his predicament.
Spitfire's inner musings were wiped out by Soarin's next thrust. The stallion had settled himself lower so the soft fur on his belly rubbed against Spitfire's teats as he moved, adding to her stimulation. The orange mare gripped Soarin more closely, locking him in a deep kiss even as she locked her legs around his rump and rocked her hips against him.
Soarin broke for air as he picked up his pace. He loved being able to look down at Spitfire, her mane messed up on the bed and more importantly her half lidded eyes and smile showing the stallion she was loving this as much as he was. The fabric covered hooves gripping him tightly only adding to the experience. The firm clenching of Spitfire's inner walls against the entire length of his cock as he pistoned into her was divine. He knew he wasn't going to last long, but the way Spitfire was gasping and arching to press against him he knew she wouldn't either.
“Spits!” he panted. “I'm close!”
“Me too!” Spitfire responded, also gasping for air.
The stimulation of Soarin's medial ring grinding over her desperately winking clit, the head of his cock rubbing her walls in just the right way, his fur rubbing her teats and just his closeness was driving Spitfire wild. She could feel herself tensing like a coiled spring ready to release, she just needed one extra little push.
Soarin felt the familiar insistent pressure building between his legs and his steady rhythm became erratic. Spitfire could feel the stallion's cock begin to flare, stretching her deepest barrier. She thought about Soarin's impending climax and unbidden imagined his seed filling her and leaving her with his foal. That was all it took and she plunged over the edge, crying out Soarin's name and buried her face in his neck, trembling as she came harder than she could ever remember. Soarin felt Spitfire's soft tunnel squeeze his stallionhood, milking it for all it was worth. He thrust into Spitfire one last time, hilting himself as deeply as he could, his flared cockhead pressing against her cervix.
Soarin's balls pulled close to his body and he started releasing potent pulses of seed deep within Spitfire, held there under pressure by his flared head and forcing it into the mare's waiting womb. Spitfire could feel Soarin's dick pulsing within her and the sudden liquid warmth flooding deep within. This served to prolong her own orgasm, her pussy milking him for every precious drop.
After a short eternity, Soarin's spurts petered out and both pegasi came down from their respective highs. Spitfire relaxed her grip on Soarin and he collapsed to the side on the bed, his rapidly softening cock pulling out of her and allowing a a deluge of their combined juices to pour from Spitfire's marehood, dripping onto the sheets the sheets. The yellow pegasus rolled over as well and the pair lay face to face, gently rubbing noses briefly before Spitfire turned around again so the pair could comfortably spoon,
“That was incredible,” Spitfire said as enjoyed Soarin's warmth like a big fuzzy blanket.
"Mhmm," Soarin groaned in agreement, "That was really great."
"We should really do it more often," he added with a playful wink.
Spitfire playfully swatted at the stallion.
"See, what did I say about living life between your legs?"
"You love me for it though, knowing that you're irresistible," Soarin said.
Spitfire hummed in agreement before settling back into the sheets more comfortably and sighed.
"Still, it's been a really crazy day today, hasn't it?" Spitfire said quietly.
"I still can't help but worry about the future though. About what it holds. For the Wonderbolts, for us," Spitfire's voice was barely above a murmur.
Spitfire felt Soarin cuddle her just that little bit closer.
“It doesn't matter what it does, we'll face it together,” Soarin replied.
“Thanks, Soarin.”
“You're welcome. I'll always be here if you need me.”
Spitfire hummed in agreement. She felt Soarin slowly fall asleep, finally overcome by the day's exertions. For Spitfire though sleep didn't come as easily as she thought about what the future might bring. Eventually though, the warm comfort of the stallion holding her and her own fatigue finally caught up to her and she gradually drifted off into slumber.

//-------------------------------------------------------//
                  3 Something new begins                   
//-------------------------------------------------------//
3 Something new begins
Soarin slowly woke from his slumber, first noticing the morning sun filtering through the curtains. His fond smile at the memories of the previous evening vanished when he rolled over to find the other side of the bed cold and empty.
He honestly wasn't too surprised. It was rare that Spitfire would spend the entire night, she would often slip away before dawn. She was probably back at Miramare, getting a head start on post-season paperwork. Still, Soarin was hoping they'd be able to spend the weekend together and forget about work for a couple of days, especially after revealing her worries the previous evening. He certainly knew he could do with a couple of laid back days to rest his wing.
Thinking of that Soarin languidly rolled out of bed and flexed his right wing, glad he could put it through the full range of motion without too much discomfort but after a couple of experimental flaps he knew he wouldn't be doing anything strenuous for a few days. A quick shower did wonders to properly wake Soarin up and improve his spirits for the day.
As he stepped out of the bathroom, still attacking his mane with a towel he paused, sniffing as he noticed an enticing smell that he hadn't noticed when he first got up. He could also hear somepony moving around downstairs. He was certain the house was empty before he got in the shower.
Soarin quickly finished towelling off and made his way downstairs. He was surprised to see Spitfire in the kitchen, looking like she'd just finished a flight with a pair of saddlebags she didn't bring with her the previous evening. Although something else immediately attracted his full attention.
“You got Pie in the Sky for breakfast!” the pegasus exclaimed like an excited colt, fluttering over to the gently steaming box on the table.
Spitfire chuckled, “Good morning to you too! I woke up pretty early so decided to go for a quick flight. Thought it would be a nice treat, looks like I got back just in time too.”
“You did, I only just got up,” Soarin replied, distractedly peering at the label on the box. “Sweet Apple Acres Special! My favourite!”
Soarin stopped and scrunched his nose.
“What's the catch?” he asked cautiously.
“What're you talking about?” Spitfire was trying to be the very picture of innocence.
“You never surprise me like this unless you're trying to butter me up for something,” Soarin said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
Spitfire grinned, unfazed.
“When was the last time I ever did something like that?”
“Last month when you wanted help getting your sofa out so you could get it reupholstered,” Soarin deadpanned.
Spitfire facehooved. Hard. She sighed.
“OK, this wasn't how I was hoping this would go,” she muttered, unhooking her saddlebags and dumping them on a counter top. Spitfire carefully opened one of the satchels and nosed through it. She paused, suddenly uncertain, her ears laying flat.
“Hey spits, you all right?” Soarin asked, frowning. It wasn't normal for the normally brash pegasus to second guess herself.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” Spitfire assured, “this one's a bit of a biggie though. I'm really not sure how to put it, it's not something I've ever done before.”
“You're not going to dig out plans to completely redecorate your house, are you?” Soarin joked.
Spitfire looked back over her shoulder and gave Soarin a pointed look.
“Sorry,” it was Soarin's turn to be sheepish. “Whatever it is must be important.”
Spitfire's expression softened.
“It's all right. Look, it's probably easier if I just show you.”
Quickly, Spitfire dove into the bag and produced a long, narrow wooden box, clearly well crafted and lacquered to a shine.
“Wait, an imping kit? But I thought you didn't have any broken feathers?” Soarin was surprised, before he quickly realised the potential implications. “...Oh.”
Spitfire started blushing more than Soarin had ever seen and started squirming on the spot.
“I've been thinking a lot lately,” she started hesitantly. “I've been burying my head in the sand and pretending that everything will stay the same forever. But it won't and sometimes you have to make a big leap of faith instead of hoping everything will work out.
“Soarin, you've been my anchor for longer than I can remember and you're the only pony I can imagine spending my days with. Will you be my Bondmate?”
Soarin sat down heavily, his eyes wide as saucers and mouth slightly open. As he didn't say anything after a few seconds, Spitfire's hopeful expression became brittle, as if it were going to crack like porcelain any second.
“Hey, you Ok there?” she asked, tentatively.
The simple question seemed to knock the stallion out of his stupor.
“Well, if you'll settle for a worn out stallion with a creaky wing, I'm game. Of course I'll be your Bondmate!”
Soarin felt himself being bowled over as Spitfire rushed him into a bear like hug. No words needed to be said, Spitfire clinging to Soarin, burying her face into his neck with tears of joy streaming from her eyes. They stayed like this for some time, until they were interrupted by a loud rumble from Soarin's stomach.
“Huh, guess we should probably eat before those pies get really cold,” Soarin suggested.
Spitfire reluctantly pulled herself away and the pair sat down at the table for their breakfast.
****
Some time later, Soarin bought his left wing around in front of his face to examine Spitfire's work. A single golden yellow secondary had been spliced in seamlessly with the rest of his plumage, the shaft around the join wrapped with a fine gold wire and a small dab of glue. Giving a few experimental flaps, Soarin could just about tell there was something different but had to admit it was a good job.
“I told you I was good at it, didn't I?” Spitfire had one of her easy, confident smiles on her face. Soarin could just about make out a flash of blue nestled in Spitfire's wing now as well. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd been much more clumsy imping in her wing. Without a timely intervention he probably would've ended up gluing three of her feathers together in a horrible mess. Still, Spitfire didn't seem to mind- it was the thought that counts after all.
“Wonder if it'll make any difference flying?” Soarin mused.
“Well, only one way to find out,” Spitfire replied, brushing past the stallion to wards the front door. Soarin hurridly turned and moved to keep up.
“I get the feeling that today's going to be a great day,” Soarin mused as Spitfire threw open the front door to allow a ray of brilliant sunshine into the house.
“The first of many, I hope,” Spitfire replied, stepping over the threshold.
With that, the two pegasi took to the friendly skies. Neither knew what the future would hold, but they knew that they'd both be there for each other no matter what.
Author's Note
Here it is finished. My first attempt at "clop with plot".  
I always wanted this resolution but actually coming to write it out turns out it's a lot, lot harder to write than I thought. My hat goes off to the other writers on the site who can pull off mushy, fluffy stuff so well!
Incidentally, if anyone's interested in what "Imping" entails, there's a handy site with good pictures here (https://www.audubon.org/news/an-introduction-imping-ancient-art-feather-mending)