Kiss me on the mouth and set me free
Sing me like a choir
I can be the subject of your dreams
Your sickening desire
Don't you wanna see a man up close
A phoenix in the fire

So kiss me on the mouth and set me free
But please, don't bite

• Bite, Troye Sivan

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

Everypony knew Hitch was a stallion dedicated to his job.

He had wanted to be sheriff since he got his cutie mark, he had trained hard to become one, and now that he had a shiny badge on his sash, he gave his all to be worthy of that position.

Long patrols around town every night were one of the many things he considered as ‘giving his all’. Watching out for burglars, sending foals home, calling out litterers, and most importantly: make sure there were no signs of horns or wings around.

The latter hadn’t shown up in Maretime Bay in too many moons to count, according to their history books. Luckily things would keep that way under his watch. Sure, he was trained and prepared to defend his town from unicorns and pegasi if he had to, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be the next sheriff to deal with a war-starting event like that.

Did all these patrols pay off? Yes, almost every night was pretty much a nice walk. Would it be less exhausting and time consuming if he had help? Definitely.

Well, Hitch did have help, a deputy. The papers said that at least, but in reality it was only the sheriff and this stallion who would always make up excuses to avoid work.

Not that Sprout would really do much more than hide behind him during the whole ordeal anyways. Since Hitch had met him as a colt, to this day the red pony had never gotten over his fear of the dark…or fear of pretty much anything, really. Hitch worked better solo anyways.

So here was Maretime Bay’s sheriff, returning from another lonely but successful night patrol. He finished sooner than usual too, which meant he could close the station early and have a nice, warm bubble bath and listen to some tunes before bed.

Or that was the plan. Hitch did not count on what he would find when opening the door. How could he ever expect something like that?

There was Sprout, his deputy, the colt he used to play countless of times with during and after school, now a full grown stallion…touching himself, right there in front of the wall besides the door where any pony who stepped in could see him.

That pony being Hitch now, to be specific.

He wasn’t hallucinating. There was no other way to describe the scene in front of him. Sprout with a hoof around his clearly erect length, eyes closed, strands of blond mane out of place, probably blushing under his already red coat, panting and with the occasional soft sound of pleasure escaping him; all that happening while he had his forehead pressed against that picture of Hitch in a cop uniform from his calendar.

It was when the word 'Hitch’ left those lips in a needy whimper that the sheriff reacted. There was ear flicking, a blush creeping behind his blond coat, and a warmness on his body that he was not going to allow in this situation.

Hitch shook his head to force a more proper reaction out of him. Wide eyes and mouth agape from sock, a frown from disbelief, and muscles tense from…well, being tense.

The uncalled for blush wouldn't leave though, so he convinced himself that one was from embarrassment.

The situation all together was bad enough. Worse was when just when Sprout’s fantasy seemed to be getting good judging by his face, by how flared and leaky the tip of his length got, just about to combust it only given a minute or two…and then his deputy opened his eyes.

There was dead silence when green eyes met amber.

That silence took too long to break, but it finally did when Sprout, clearly the one going through an overwhelming amount of emotions now, released a long ‘uuuuh…’ that reminded Hitch that, hey, he was the sheriff there.

Without breaking eye contact, Hitch locked the main door and lowered its blinds. First as an instinct because it was closing hours, second to save the embarrassment to his deputy, and third to save himself from having to explain to anypony why this was happening under his watch.

And then he grabbed Sprout by his sash, barely getting some squirming and panicked babbling from the red pony before he dragged him until he was inside the cell in the corner of the room.

“Alright, in you go,” Hitch said, his tone way too nonchalant for all the emotions swirling inside him.

“What? I’m not-! You can’t-! Why?!” Sprout dared to ask, clearly panicking as the bars locked with a loud ‘clang’ behind him..

"Public indecency, conduct unbecoming an officer, indecency while on duty...take your pick.” Hitch spared no glance to Sprout as he stayed outside and locked the cell, finding himself fidgeting a bit with the keys afterwards to remain calm.

Silence dragged between the empty station. Hitch’s eyes betrayed him, lowering for a brief second towards Sprout's still erect and leaky lenght. He blushed again and he had to grunt and force himself to look away. Not out of anger at Sprout despite obviously having to feel it, but at his own improper reactions.

Luckily, his deputy-turned-criminal seemed to only catch the anger and covered his shame with his hooves.

“I can explain!” Sprout almost yelled. He frowned with those big eyebrows of his and his ears flicked back, ready to start an argument. But despite all this, he femained silent instead. “...How long will I stay here?”

“Way longer than any of us would like, but if you want specifics…maybe a few days, plus having to write a report about this whole incident since you are a deputy under my watch.” Hitch winced at the mere idea of this being on paper, then frowned as well as Sprout looked shocked. “You should know all this, it’s in the manual.”

“But I can't just stay here! It’s already boring to be at my desk all day, what am I gonna do inside a cell?!”

“Well, maybe you should’ve thought of that before-!”

Hitch paused mid sentence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying hard for the calm sheriff facade not to break. He didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to tell Sprout it was his own doing to avoid any task that involved leaving his desk and that this was his own fault too. He just wanted to end the night here so he could stop feeling his face was on fire already — which was not easy with Sprout’s musky scent and his erect cock being psychically in the middle of their conversation, if he was honest.

The latter may be Hitch’s doing, sort of. Not because of his calendar, or…yeah, maybe it was because of that too, but that wasn’t what he meant. The point was he had jumped straight to the arrest part and gave no chance for his deputy to uh- finish.

Considering how stallions’ anatomy worked, Sprout would probably stay like that for a while.

‘Maybe I should’ve given him a couple minutes’, Hitch thought. But then came the intrusive thoughts. The dirty, really-improper-for-work-hours image of Sprout finishing over his calendar while fantasizing about his boss and foalhood friend doing stars-knew-what.

And Hitch had to hold back from slapping himself when he felt a stirring in his loins.

Completely red in the face again, the sheriff curser internally and walked over to the cabinets behind his desk to look for what he thought would ease the problem.

“Here,” he grumbled, keeping his gaze on the wall at the other side of the room as he handed Sprout a towel between the bars.

Sprout didn’t thank him, but him taking it to wrap it around his waist was enough for Hitch.

Again, none of them spoke for a while. Hitch walked to his desk to prepare the paperwork for the report he definitely didn’t want to make but had to. Just as he was about to sit down, he heard Sprout’’s voice again.

“Hey, hey, sheriff, Hitch, buddy.” Sprout grin was big and awkward, his tone pleading as he was aware what the report was going to be about. “Let’s uh…talk about this?”

Hitch paused with a hoof set on the chair, and couldn’t help cocking an eyebrow at his deputy. Yeah, they were foalhood friends, but he couldn't remember the last time Sprout had used the word ‘buddy’ with him. Before they became coworkers maybe? Or did those friendly terms gradually stop earlier than that?

Sprout seemed to be sharing his exact thoughts now, because his grin faltered.

“C’mon, I’m your deputy! We’ve known each other our whole lives! Can’t you just let me go with a warning?” He pleaded again, now holding the bars as he sat sadly on the floor in an obvious attempt to look as pathetic as he could to get pitied.

“Sprout, I can’t let you do as you please without consequences just because we-”

“Sunny. Starscout.” Sprout pretty much hissed the name, as if each syllable burned his tongue.

Just those two words were enough to get the point across.

Sunny was an issue Sprout tried to argue about with Hitch countless times. He was the son of Phyllis Cloverleaf after all, the one who kept the town safe from unicorns and pegasi. And who was the one always protesting against it, committing minor crimes to claim those other ponies were not dangerous? The mare who Hitch had forgiven more than once because of their friendship.

Hitch did the same for Sprout too. Giving him this job despite no prior experience, forgiving so many mistakes at work, or the lack of work done even. But it seemed his deputy didn’t notice that, or he did and took advantage, so did Sunny.

Hitch was not unaware of how messy things had gotten for them as adults.

Those times when the three of them played together as foals ended long ago. Sunny and Sprout went their separate ways due to their different beliefs, and Hitch remained in the middle; connected to both of them by shared memories, but said connection hanging by a thread due to his position as sheriff now, due to struggling to balance that with being a good friend.

It was a shame really, to see somepony you grew up with not leaving those things that pushed them back behind. Sunny's insistence to go against the law for her odd ideals had affected their friendship. And Sprout…

That case was the most sad, because Hitch and Sunny argued, sure, but they could still laugh together, share secrets, go for a drink one evening to share memories, pretend this whole cat and mouse thing wasn’t happening at least for a few hours. Sprout and Hitch? Despite spending most of their time together as sheriff and deputy, things between them now were mostly talking about work, disagreements and/or staying in silence to avoid them.

The sheriff made a thoughtful face. He hoped it looked like he was considering Sprout's words, but in reality, his mind was wandering into a topic it hadn’t in a while.

Why was it that their friendship ended like that exactly?

It was difficult to tell. It had been Hitch who gave Sprout this job. Things had been…not-the-same-as-when-they-were-colts before that already, but still he had it in him to lend a hoof to an old friend. Sprout needed it after the previous sheriff could only take one pony under her — metaphorically speaking, of course — wing, and only Hitch had been able to pass her test.

Without that Sprout had no other ambitions besides inheriting his mother’s factory one day, and that wouldn’t happen in a while so…considering his friend’s interest in becoming sheriff, plus some — maybe lots of — convincing from Mrs. Cloverleaf hoping this would motivate her son to become independent, Hitch had accepted him as his deputy despite not being the ideal option.

It just made sense at first. Sure, Sprout’s attitude would be a problem, but Hitch had learned from his colt days and no longer hesitated to call him out if he had to. Did he really need help as sheriff? Not really, Hitch thought he did just fine on his own, but he was taught a lot from his career as deputy and maybe there were some busy nights he wished he had more than four hooves so…if things went well, this could set Sprout on the right path and even prove him, the current sheriff, wrong about not needing help.

None of those things ever happened.

Sprout had been happy to get the job, but only at first, and then…if things were a little tense before, now they were worse. Sprout’s attitude and not acting as an adult when he had to was no longer bearable for Hitch, not since he grew up and started thinking for himself instead of mindlessly following around the popular rich colt who chose him as his best friend in school.

Sprout closed himself to Hitch too. He rarely started conversations now, and instead just stood by his side doing his own thing or limited himself to answer only if talked to. Why? Hitch could only try to guess. Maybe the constant disagreements, that Hitch still hung out with Sunny or, stars, he even considered if the badge had anything to do since it was around the time he started training to become sheriff that it felt Sprout pouted more than usual around him.

Or was it? He wasn’t sure. His foalhood friend tended to be upset most of the time, so Hitch had learned it wasn’t really worth it to try to keep track of the whens and whys of Sprout’s bad mood. Hitch could only be a good friend for so long before he had to focus on keeping good grades at school or his job as sheriff now.

All he knew was that it was around that time he had to start keeping an eye on Sunny too. The badge was the best thing Hitch could had earned with his hard work, but it was not a weight easy to carry, and deep down he wondered if things could ever return to how they were. He imagined the day he no longer had to chase after Sunny because of her antics, when he could stop thinking he’d eventually have to put a limit since he now was a sheriff who shouldn’t be involved with a troublemaker.

And sometimes, when Sprout ordered a large pizza only for himself to eat at the station, Hitch remembered those sleepless nights with junk food and videogames at his foalhood friend’s house, and he wondered if maybe things could have gone better for them.

But they were not foals anymore. They were adults, with adult problems they had to solve as adults.

“Alright.” Hitch sighed, tucking the chair back under the desk before turning towards the cell, his posture straight and his hoof instantly resting on his badge. “Due to your good behavior and service to this community as my deputy…”

His voice caught on his throat for a moment as he spotted Sprout already grinning cockily and brushing his mane back in place at the ‘praise’. Hitch narrowed his eyes before continuing.

“...As Maretime Bay’s sheriff, I’ve decided to not write the report and reduce your sentence to just one hour under my custody.”

“Wait, one hour? I thought you’d set me fr-”

“One hour is perfect, and I’m sure I’ll have no reason to reconsider that…right, deputy?” Hitch emphasized the last word calmly yet firmly, insinuating Sprout was lucky to keep his job after this in the first place.

“...Can I at least go to the bathroom?”

“If it’s to continue where you left off, no.”

“Oh, c’mon!” With a loud groan, Sprout banged his forehead once against the cell, and then he whined, a pathetic whine that indicated the next hour will be a torture of blue balls and pure embarrasment for him.

Now this got a pitying look from Hitch.

He didn’t enjoy making Sprout go through this, but part of his job was to make ponies learn their actions had consequences. A pony who was his deputy had to understand that the most. More so if said deputy had been spoiled his whole life.

But deep down he knew this situation went farther than that, not because he was letting Sprout go with just a warning this time as a favor, but because…maybe not letting him go to the bathroom to take care of his problem was Hitch projecting his own certain issue — issues. Ones he didn't want to address.

The guilt quickly creeped in and Hitch sighed. He went to stand as close as he could to the cell, staring at the other pony through the bars. When Sprout flinched, the sheriff’s ears lowered a bit. He found himself having to fix some strands from his aqua-green mane off his face too.

“Listen, I…this is not to…you…” Hitch paused, struggling to form the correct sentence. “Sprout, why did you do that?”

And there it was, the question that shouldn’t be asked, now out there in the open.

Questioning, trying to understand Sprout’s actions in general, was something Hitch had stopped doing long ago. Maybe it was out of knowing he won’t get a satisfying answer, maybe because ignorance was bliss to keep things peaceful between them. Whatever it was, every now and then the question of the moment just had to be made.

Why in the station? Why not wait until he got home? Those were the things Hitch was asking, surface level.

But deep down, he wanted to know why with his picture, with the face of a stallion, with Hitch of all ponies. Yeah, sure his calendars sold well and more than one buyer had swooned over them, but Hitch didn’t really expect any pony to go that far with them.

On second thought, maybe he did suspect a bit. Doing the photoshoots for those calendars was just too fun and he looked really good on those uniforms, so it did make sense that-

Sprout. The point was Sprout was the one who he caught touching himself to them. That was what was puzzling.

Just- his friend had always been the typical stallion who stuck out his tongue to girly stuff, trying too hard to look and be ‘masculine enough”. Because of this one wouldn’t ever think Sprout swinged that way. It was one of the reasons why Hitch had to forget about ever-

He snapped back to reality when he heard mumbling. “Sorry, what?”

“I don’t know!” Sprout yelled, his outburst quickly dying out as his voice grew quiet, “I don't know...”

Some strands of his deputy’s perfectly slicked back mane were out of place again, and he wasn’t bothering to fix them this time, a sign he was too tired to care.

Their arguments would usually end there. Or at least they ended like that now.. One of the two raising their voice, then both staying quiet to avoid making it worse, and later pretend nothing happened.

This time though, Sprout seemed ready to keep talking, and Hitch to listen. Both knew this was not a thing to ignore.

“I was alone, bored, tired of looking at paperwork.” Sprout went to lay over the bed inside the cell, eyes set on the ceiling and a hoof vaguely gesturing at the other side of the room. “Found those in the lost-and-found box, got…too interested I guess, and just- before I realized I was-”

Arching a brow, Hitch followed his friend’s gesture. He took a few steps towards his deputy’s desk to find a magazine over it.

“But I swear I’ve never done this here before!” Sprout sat up on the bed, too focused on talking to his own moving hooves to notice what Hitch was doing. “Ponies walk in here all the time, you are here all the time, your- your birds that always sneak in here too, I-”

Hitch was only half-listening when he picked up the magazine. An adult magazine.

“...I should have gone to the bathroom, you don’t need to tell me tha-” Sprout’s ears folded back and his pupils shrunk as he noticed what the sheriff was looking at.

It was a good thing Hitch had locked his deputy beforehand, because considering how distracted he was by the evidence in his hooves now, only those bars were keeping Sprout from impulsively jumping out of the window now.

Hitch couldn't say he was proud he recognized the magazine right away. It was one of the many he had confiscated from some rebellious colts who thought it would be fun to steal grown up stuff from a store. He couldn't get the name of the store to return them, so the ‘erotic content’ had no other place to go to but the lost-and-found box inside the cabinets of the station.

Yet the magazines were not as dusty as the rest of things there, were not as untouched as they should be, and Hitch knew why. Nights got lonely at the station for a single stallion sometimes, and when your room was only a trip upstairs away…well, though improper and not something Hitch was really proud to indulge into when he should be working, there were times he couldn't remain such a proper sheriff behind locked doors.

But this was not about him. This was about how, between the five issues that Hitch had confiscated, Sprout had picked up one that didn’t contain a single mare.

Stallions, stallions and more stallions. All in provocative poses and showing up without shame what only a stud could show that way.

But that was not what made the sheriff’s throat go dry, nor the fact that they indirectly shared something intimate by touching themselves to the same magazine. No, what broke Hitch, what made him have to close his hindlegs a bit, hoping, praying whatever was threatening to happen back there didn’t happen…was that Sprout had chosen the section of stallions who looked similar to Hitch. Muscular and of square jaws with dashing grins.

Finally, the obvious sinked in.

Sprout was not straight.

And he was Sprout’s type.

“You looked at these…and then…my calendar…”

Hitch struggled to find his voice. His deputy seemed to have lost his own right away, because no answer came.

Then there was another thing the taller stallion noticed now.

It was difficult to tell with Sprout’s coat being red already, plus the — kinda funny — fact that he was of those ponies who got all red in the face when angry, but now Hitch was sure his deputy was blushing. Had been this whole time, probably had blushed just for spending time with him before and Hitch just…didn’t notice.

“It's not what it looks like! I'm just confused-.” Sprout tried to excuse through gritted teeth. “Not having a marefriend does these things to a stallion so- I-it’s normal, it doesn’t mean I suddenly like- I don’t-”

One by one things started to make sense. Sprout's phase of saying fillies had cooties lasting way longer than usual when they were colts, his insistence with saying having a marefriend was a bother he didn’t want to deal with as a teenager, and now as an adult…the general awkwardness in his friend’s face whenever he tried really hard to make his interest in mares and romance obvious.

How…how did Hitch not notice all this before?

He was no stranger to ponies crushing on him. From fillies gifting him drawings during his school days, to now being flirted with by mares and even stallions during patrols. He was the sheriff, he took care of his appearance and always acted kind and respectful. The fruits of being raised by Grandma Figgy, and of once being a shy colt who wanted to be like the heroes from his favorite comics and movies.

Things that, at least from afar, more than one pony could fall for.

Sprout was the one Hitch least expected to be in that list. Thinking he was straight, that a foalhood friend wouldn’t ever change feelings overnight, Sprout’s treating romance as cheesy in general…there were plenty of reasons to not ever consider that scenario.

Now, however, with this new knowledge, the way his deputy glared whenever somepony threw a flirty comment at Hitch during patrols might have other meanings.

Or so he thought at least. Sprout could also be jealous of the attention, which would be ironic because…well, to this day his deputy did not make it easy to be approachable. Having an attitude as a foal could easily be forgiven by bringing your cool limited-edition lunch bag from the ‘Alicorns Attack’ comic series to school the next day. But as an adult? Sprout no longer had that as an option.

Which was a shame really. If Hitch's theory was correct, his friend could have luck with stallions. Sprout was on the shorter side and had a round face, which made him cute; also he had those big expressive brows, that blond mane always perfectly slicked back and, ironically, that attitude of his, all which added some ‘masculinity’ to the mix.

Hitch had told him all this during lunch once at school, when his friend was complaining about being annoying to have to look for a marefriend. Genuine compliments meant to boost his self-steem that ended sounding a little too excited. For some reason, Sprout's reaction to this was to end up blushing and changing his rant to how ‘he was a stallion and stallions were handsome not cute’ while roughly shoving a tuna sandwich into Hitch's mouth so he'd shut up.

…Maybe that conversation ended up being more meaningful for both than Hitch originally intended back then.

And this made him wonder, exactly since when Sprout felt this way about him. Since that conversation? Before? After? Or maybe recently?

Hitch shouldn't wonder about that, should keep all these thoughts about Sprout and cuteness and blushy cheeks and so on buried deep underground, where they had remained all these moons. He couldn’t allow them to resurface now. For obvious reasons, and because he knew Sprout's actions tonight would mix with those other improper thoughts that had been attacking Hitch the whole night and-

“Maybe never having dated anypony can do that to a stallion, but only if…if one never…” the sheriff's mouth was faster than his mind, betraying him on the spot as he observed the magazine. “What you mean is that you…that you never…?”

“What?! Of course I did that already.” Sprout crossed his forelegs, scoffing. “I had plenty of first times actually, just so you know.”

There was a smug smile on his deputy's face before it quickly faltered at realizing the nonsense he had just said, how he gave away his lie on a silver tray.

“...You know I won’t judge you, r-?”

“I.Am.Not.Gay!” Sprout’s outburst was loud, the change of topic so sudden it reflected his own mind racing with several thoughts. “I’m not! If you are, fine, but you don't have to project onto me!”

“Sprout, I’m still your boss, watch your tone.”

Hitch stomped a hoof, then sighed as Sprout pouted and looked away. “And I had had marefriends in the past who I liked genuinely, you know that.”

Looking down at the magazine one last time, he decided to close it and leave it back on Sprout's desk, realizing it was only messing things up even more. He made a pause before continuing, taking a seat on the cold ceramic floor.

And hoped, really hoped Sprout wouldn’t make him regret sharing a secret with him like he often used to once.

“But uh…I’m not against being with a stallion,” Hitch began, struggling to meet Sprout's gaze, “I’m very open to the idea, actually.”

When his foalhood friend’s frown softened, Hitch continued.

“I was always…attracted to both mares and stallions I guess, just never had the chance to try with the latter.” Hitch’s hoof wiped a nonexistent spot on the floor. “Just Sunny…and my grandma sort of, know. And you now.”

It was weird to tell him this. Hitch had known this about himself since he reached the age colts started feeling funny around fillies, only that he had that same feeling with other colts too. It didn’t help Hitch was not prompt to crushes, always prioritizing a good friendship before taking a possible next step. One of the reasons he only had a couple more-than-friends in the past despite being a desired bachelor in the bay.

His sexuality was not something Hitch struggled with in terms of self-esteem. Though not screaming it to the top of his lungs because he had no reason to, he could say it without a problem to a pony he trusted enough. He grew up with open minded ponies Grandma Figgy, Mr Argyle and Sunny afterall. Even school had a class where they taught about families not consisting only of one mom and one dad.

He should’ve felt comfortable enough to tell Sprout back then too. They were friends, friends shared these kinds of things. But here was his foalhood friend, having an outbursts over this topic right in front of him now, the same way it had happened as colts whenever Hitch wanted to play ‘silly girly games’ with a filly. So why tell him now? Why trust Sprout with something so personal knowing all that?

Maybe because, wanted it or not, with this both stood on the same ground for once, they could understand each other again. Hitch could help a friend figure out those confusing feelings he once had.

“Oh.” Was the only thing Sprout said. “Oh, well that explains…”

And then he shut up. Hitch narrowed his eyes.

“Explains what?”

“Nothing”

“Sprout-”

“Er- Fifth Amendment.”

“This…isn’t a trial? If anything you should use your right to remain silent now, considering you’re under arrest.”

Sprout used it, and the sheriff barely contained himself from rolling his eyes.

“So?” Hitch insisted.

Another long pause. He was about to give up when his deputy groaned out loud again.

“It’s your fault!” Sprout yelled, his hoof slamming on the bed. “This whole thing-! Me being- You have no right to treat me like a freak after what you did at my house!”

“I am not- When did I even treat you like a-?” Hitch’s comprehensive attitude quickly died out. “Wait, what about your house?”

“That night you stayed over after school a few moons ago? You in my bathroom in the middle of the night?” Sprout crossed his foreleg again as his back rested on the wall. “You rushed out of my room as if you just spotted a unicorn and I- Ugh! I wish I hadn’t fucking followed you. You messed with my brain!”

Hitch froze.

Or rather, everything around him did. He…he couldn’t possibly be talking about…

And then it came back, that shameful memory tucked away at the back of Hitch's mind. That spontaneous slumber party after they had finished homework, laughing and marathoning the latest action and superhero movies Sprout could get earlier thanks to his mom’s contacts, then being sent to bed early because she would not allow her son to sleep late as much as he whined to her.

And then that bed. That bed that shouldn’t have had anything in particular because Hitch had laid on it more than once during his visits; that one he was used to sharing with Sprout when he stayed over because they had known each other for so long it just wasn’t awkward at all. Nothing should’ve been different that night

But it was, because they had not been innocent colts anymore back then. They were teenagers, at that awkward phase when bodies changed and emotions combusted over the silliest things. And there had been Sprout. That cute, funny, loud, full of confidence colt-almost-stallion that Hitch could spend hours talking to; the only male his age he genuinely felt close with, one who a younger Hitch thought he merely admired before discovering it was something more than than.

And said colt-almost-stallion was knocked cold beside him on the mattress, unconsciously clinging to a flustered Hitch, looking for warmth on that cold night of winter.

The rest happened so fast it still was a blur to this day, but Hitch could remember staring at his friend’s features, then those lips he had thought about more than once, then how close their bodies were. Next were betraying hormones, a tingling feeling between his legs, and before his younger self realized he had rushed to the Cloverleaf’s bathroom to get rid of that hard-on that could ruin the entire night — their entire friendship — if Sprout ever found out.

But the most blurry part of that memory, the one Hitch had never been sure if it even happened until now, was hearing hoofsteps at the other side of the door, maybe even heavy breathing that mixed with his own as Hitch gave in to his shameful wishing for one night. He had thought it was all his imagination since no pony was in the hallways when he was done.

Yet the next morning had been awkward. Hitch not being as chirpy as he usually was during mornings because the guilt and knowledge of what he had done was eating him alive, and Sprout looking like he had not slept at all despite the fact Hitch found him still on the bed when he returned to the room the night prior.

Though Hitch had found his friend flinching and blushing and stuttering at the slightest thing was odd, he had just shrugged it off as Sprout being cranky in the mornings as usual. Now he knew he had been wrong about that.

And that his foalhood friend was not as much of a heavy sleeper as he thought.

“Sprout, that night…if you were at the other side of the door…” Hitch's voice turned uncharacteristically quiet. “Were you…doing what I think you were doing?”

It was too much. Finding out Sprout with his calendar today was already bad, but knowing he had also been there that fateful night, right outside the door pleasuring himself while Hitch did the same, both thinking of each other, listening to each other without ever revealing it-

Hitch finally felt it. The thing he had been trying to avoid the whole night. That funny feeling in his loins, something twitching, poking out, almost making him hiss as the cold air hit the hot skin. His whole face went red, and as fast as possible he stood up, pressed his hindlegs together and placed his forelegs in a position that looked anything but natural in hopes of hiding the obvious.

But it was too late. Sprout’s eyes had already gone wide and his cheeks even redder as he stared at where the problem laid unsheathed between Hitch’s legs.

This was it. The reason he wasn’t as angry as he should had been at finding out his deputy doing the most improper thing at work, why Hitch did not mind his calendar being used for that.

Because the one who had touched himself to his face was Sprout. That unfinished business from moons ago, that crush he had forced himself to get over with for too many reasons to count. And now he had decided to do this, to turn Hitch’s peaceful night upside down by unburying the past, adding new information to these forgotten issues like new hints to a case archived long ago.

“No.” Sprout sputtered quickly, and Hitch wasn’t sure if that was an answer to his question or a reaction to the not-little-at-all issue in front of him.

His deputy clearly was struggling not to stare or twitch his muzzle at the musky scent, sooo…probably the first, which was an obvious lie.

“I-Is this…interrogation part of my sentence? I don’t remember you mentioning that.”

“I…” Hitch coughed, already feeling drops of sweat forming on his forehead. “Well, no, but- ”

Hitch should shut up. He should not want to play the perfect sheriff and solve a forgotten case, this case, for once in his life.

But that was exactly the problem, the thing that played against him. Hitch didn’t like unfinished cases. He liked everything to have a how or why, to keep things under control neatly organized. He also liked to keep ponies happy, something he couldn’t ever get with Sprout considering how he made it hard for anypony to be around him. Sincere talks were not a thing for them anymore.

But for once, for once Sprout was giving him something, a hint of one of the many things that laid behind that wall time had built between them.

Hitch grew quiet for a moment to observe his friend. How he was sitting on that bed, raising his hindlegs to hug them, ears lowered and frowning as he stared at the wall, looking small and…vulnerable. It was a pony clearly needing a pat on the back that, as closed off as he was about this issue, any personal issues now, he wouldn’t ever get.

Because Sprout was not Hitch. He had not been raised by Grandma Figgy, he did not grow up with a healthy relationship with anything not typically masculine. Sprout was the son of Phyllis Cloverleaf, ever isolated from thinking outside the box, and without having been given proper ways to deal with the fact he wouldn’t always fit that perfect shape.

In the ideal scenario, Hitch would be the pony to give him a pat on the back, to listen and talk and help him get through this journey of acceptance.

But life was not perfect, and Hitch had interacted with his once best friend long enough to know that nowadays, with how things were between them, he would only get rolling eyes, an outburst, if not to be ignored and told to mind his business. He had learned that the hard way. Sprout hadn’t even considered Hitch to tell him this in the first place.

A sheriff was meant to help. A friend was meant to be there during difficult times. But sometimes not even Hitch could help everypony as much as he wished.

All he could offer now was to give some sort of closure to this, for both their sakes.

“Listen I…won’t get into your personal matters if you don't want me to. Won’t assume anything about you when it’s not my place either.” Hitch almost lifted a hoof to scratch the back of his neck, but stopped himself at remembering he was still hiding something with them. “But you do deserve an explanation about what happened that night so…”

The sheriff paused, considered telling the truth. That he had once had a crush on Sprout in his youth, that that admiration he had for this cool confident colt who wanted to be his friend despite how quiet Hitch used to be ended being more than that, that he hadn’t understood his own feelings until puberty kicked in. Explain how he had to get over it because he thought Sprout was straight, and even if he wasn’t things wouldn’t work anyways, not with how their friendship had gradually started to change for not-the-better with the moons.

His deputy observed him from his seat, still hugging his hindlegs, but his gaze focused on Hitch, not looking upset or bored by the conversation as usual. He was expectant, the bizarre situation of them having hard-ons in the middle of this completely forgotten as a unique moment of sincerity drew near.

And at the last minute Hitch chose what he never would: the cowardly move.

Finally, the taller stallion found himself leaving the awkward position. He mindlessly walked towards his desk, his tail tucked between his hindlegs in a poor attempt to hide the obvious. He opened the bottom drawer to get a key, then unlocked one of the cabinets behind him.

The barely touched bottle of vodka was still there. He had gotten it from the previous sheriff, a mare who liked to drink a shot or two on busy nights of pure paperwork. A ‘stress reliever’ she called it. It was not an habit Hitch approved back when he still was a deputy under her guidance, but every time he suggested it may not be proper, she just laughed it off and told him he’d get it when the time came.

Then when the fateful day Hitch took her place as sheriff arrived, she gifted him a brand-new bottle with a wink and wishing him good luck. Indeed, he understood her need for a ‘stress reliever’ soon enough.

Hitch himself dealt with the stress of the job in other ways. Exercise, bubbly baths, music, any kind of self care.

But some nights, really really rare nights, something as bad as this happened, and he needed a shot.

Hitch left the bottle and glass over the desk, having to blow out the dust that had accumulated over it. As he sat on his chair to pour himself a glass, Sprout arched a brow from his spot, observing him through the bars, probably sensing his emotional state miles away.

The sheriff stared at the drink in his hoof. Clear as water, but with that strong smell making it clear it was anything but proof of how disastrous this night was to have to resort to it.

“I was young, discovering myself…puberty and raging hormones everywhere…nothing personal, you know how messy it could get at that age,” Hitch finally explained, wincing a bit at his own half-lie, “it wasn’t right and I’m sorry if it affected you. I’m not proud of…reacting like that, nor of what I did after.”

He just couldn’t risk it, he couldn't go on and ruin even more a friendship that was already showing cracks. Not when at least it was keeping itself together as long as no one touched them.

If he told Sprout he used to have a crush on him, where would that lead? Not on their issues magically disappearing to start dating on the spot. This wasn’t a movie, this wasn’t the story of two foalhood friends who discovered their feelings during puberty and grew up to get married like Hitch had innocently fantasized once.

It was real life. Hitch had gotten over his crush moons ago, understood they were not compatible in many ways. Even Sunny, the most supportive mare a pony could ever ask for as a friend, had given Hitch a concerned look when he told her about his feelings for Sprout back in the day. It just wouldn’t work-

And he suspected Sprout agreed on that, if the current state of their friendship and his denial to figure himself out were anything to go by. Otherwise he wouldn’t be so unwilling to admit…whatever he was feeling about Hitch.

Just what was this weird atmosphere between them tonight? What did you call thoughts about a past crush coming back? Did touching yourself to the calendar of your boss and foalhood friend while remaining deep inside the closet even have a name?

Leftover feelings? Unfinished business? Attraction? Yearning?

Hutch stared at Sprout, maybe hoping he could figure out an answer by his reaction alone. The other pony made a face at his answer, but overall did not react as much as Hitch had feared. He just looked…tired? But not like his heart had been shattered to pieces. If anything, rolling his eyes was as far as an immature reaction went. He stopped curling up and sat normally over the bed at least.

“Yeah, well…seems you still have some hormones left,” Sprout attempted a scoff that came out too soft, the joke about Hitch’s hard-on being for his own amusement only.

Hitch grumbled and drank his glass in one gulp, huffing after he felt it burning his throat, yet enjoying that sweet citric taste that came right behind. He prefered sweet drinks rather than pure alcohol, and the previous sheriff had been attentive enough to remember that.

Maybe in the future he and Sprout could talk about this. In better circumstances, when adulthood and maturity and their own personal journeys in life allowed them to face each other properly, be sincere without fearing one more crack could tear everything apart.

What conclusion could come from that? Hitch didn’t know. For now, he held back his sigh of relief. Still feeling a bit guilty — he always did whenever he even had to reject a pony in any way — but glad there didn’t seem to be hard feelings.

Perhaps Hitch had made it clear whatever happened that night was in the past, perhaps Sprout already expected that answer, had accepted it long ago or straight up preferred things to stay as they were. His deputy was not one to like change at all, nor did Hitch, they had that in common.

“It's not the same.” Hitch set the glass back down with a ‘clank’ he didn’t mean to make, unconsciously hiding a little more behind the desk. “It’s been a while for me. That’s why my body reacted, yet you don’t see me touching myself at work thinking of- any pony in particular.”

“A…a while you say? You? ” Sprout blinked, completely ignoring all the other words. He hugged the pillow to lay on his stomach over the bed, seeming to wait for juicy gossip. “No way, how long?”

“Um…my last marefriend?”

“Huh? Didn’t you two break up a little before you became sheriff? Are you really telling me you didn’t…at all for more than a moon? Nothing? Zero?”

Hitch arched a brow at him, silently asking ‘does that bother you?’.

“I-I mean, you are the stallion loved by everypony in town,” Sprout scoffed a bit while saying that, “I thought you’d have mares…and stallions too, I guess, making a line to get their turn.”

“Well, there are ponies interested in me like that but I don’t really-” Hitch paused, eyes widening. “Wait you- You think I go around Maretime Bay doing it with any pony who bats their eyelashes at me?”

“You could.”

“No!”

“But why won’t you?!” Sprout snapped back, as if Hitch not fitting this odd image of a stud who played around offended him, “ponies drool when they see you, they flirt with you all the time, and you flirt back!”

“I don't flirt b-?! “ A tiny throaty sound of disbelief escaped Hitch as he leaned back on his chair, forehooves on the desk.

He was having a proper conversation with Sprout. Well, not proper, but usual between ponies who knew each other long enough, one that his friend had for once started on his own because for some reason he thought these…these things.

They were both being sincere again for once, open with each other through random moments of the night and driving each other insane with each information revealed, information that wouldn’t leave that office because despite the tension between them, a thing that remained was to not share each other's secrets. Hitch because he wouldn’t ever do that to anypony. Sprout…well, it would be nice to think the same for him, but nowadays it probably had to do with not getting in trouble with your boss who knew even of that one time you wet your bed as a colt.

Hitch didn’t know how long this sincerity would last, nor did he want to think about it ending despite how awkward it was being.

Holding back the need to pour himself another glass, Hitch thought about Sprout’s words. He sank a little on his seat.

Flirty? Sure, if a pretty mare or a handsome stallion stood a little too close, lowered their eyelids enough and smirked as they thanked him for the help, Hitch couldn’t help himself. He was only mortal.

But that did not translate to getting to bed right away. Hitch liked the attention, but mostly he preferred to be appreciated for his hard work, his good actions. Even when a flirty comment slipped between his gentlecolt attitude of a sheriff, it remained reserved, not wanting to give the wrong ideas unless Hitch was genuinely interested because…

“I am the sheriff! Maretime bay is a small town! There'd be rumors if I- Do you have any idea what it would look like for me to be known as that stallion who instead of protecting ponies goes around sleeping with them?!” Hitch was struggling, he really was fighting with himself to remain the calm one of the two he was supposed to be now. “And even if I didn’t carry this badge, I don’t-! I don’t feel like doing that with…somepony I barely know...”

His voice grew quiet as he finished the sentence.

Call him corny, but he didn’t want to be with somepony who wouldn’t bother seeing him as more than the ‘handsome and heroic sheriff” then forget about him the next day. It was why so far Hitch had only been intimate with ponies he had dated, giving his all in each relationship that was born out of genuine feelings. He was traditional in that sense. He wanted a life partner, a foal or two, to balance it all with his dream job he had now.

But it was true, it had been long since he had been with somepony that way. His break from dating after he and his last marefriend parted ways ended being longer than expected after getting the badge. Then it was work and work and more work getting in the way of a love life he had no time to chase for. Before he realized, more than a whole moon had passed by.

And Hitch missed it. Holding hooves, the soft caresses, cuddling while whispering sweet nothings…

But there also was his stallion part, the cravings of his body. Being desired, desiring and doing something about it. To be all alone with a pony knowing that every little thing he did would earn a reaction, to then get the favor returned and for a moment forget about the world entirely while a hoof or a mouth reached for his-

Hitch’s cock twitched and he blushed, gripping the glass in his hoof. A voice from the other pony in the room snapped him back to reality again.

“…No, of course you won’t be like that with a stranger,” Sprout finally reflected, his voice quiet as well while he sat up again on the bed, the pillow now between his dangling hindlegs and the towel having fallen off long ago.

“Too much of a goody two shoes for that?” Hitch thought out loud, an unwanted sarcasm sneaking on his tone.

“Now you like being called that?” His deputy smirked at the old nickname he hadn’t used since they were in school.

“I’m not a goody two shoes just because I don’t feel like sleeping with a stranger.” Hitch scoffed, then paused, suddenly feeling self conscious, as if maybe he was in the wrong for not…doing what other ponies did so casually, “Would you do that? Be honest, would you be with a complete stranger that way?”

“At this point I’m just desperate enough to just-” Sprout gritted his teeth to interrupt himself. “No, I won’t…do that with a complete stranger, sounds awkward.”

“Yeah, too delicate to leave it to somepony you barely exchanged words with.” The sheriff nodded, leaving the glass aside. “Would be bad during your first too.”

“I’m not a virg-”

“I already said It’s fine if you are, every pony has their own tim-” Hitch’s attempt to save the conversation was in vain, he was already being glared at.

“It’s easy for you to say! You didn’t have to wait at all because-” Sprout groaned and raised a hoof when Hitch frowned with concern. “No, don’t. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“...Sorry, I overstepped “

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

And there it was, the conversation finally dying out. Sprout rested his back on the wall, curling up and hugging the pillow, his body turning just enough to not look at the sheriff. Hitch sighed softly, a hoof rubbing his temple as the awkwardness settled in.

He did not say that out of pity, he genuinely believed every pony had their own times for being intimate. But he also was well aware of the stigma and pressure around it, around not doing it soon enough yet being something that shouldn’t be rushed, not until a pony was ready. And there was also the need, the yearning to finally understand what the deal was about, to fill that role nature had designed a body for.

Hitch had been one of the many who got his ticket into that world the standard way. In his teenage years, with his first marefriend, on a bed after long talks and planning it out when they felt ready. He couldn’t really comprehend firsthoof his friend’s feeling of reaching adulthood without ticking that box everypony talked about. He couldn’t know how it was to want to live that part of life so badly, yet still having to wait until the right time.

Or maybe he could.

…No, he did understand it.

Hitch glanced at the clock on the wall. Forty minutes left until Sprout's sentence was over.

He didn’t really feel like spending that time in awkward silence. Not after such a sincere talk between them that probably wouldn’t ever happen again. Not when he could finally get these things off his chest.

Because honestly? Just like Sprout had said, he also was desperate.

“Waiting is awful.” Hitch thought out loud.

“Hm?”

“More so when you don’t know how long you’ll have to wait for.”

“...Wait for what?”

“Love, a relationship, or even a spark that could be the start of it.”

“Ah.” Sprout turned around to arch a brow at him. “Yeah?”

“And a stallion has needs.”

“We…we do.”

“But those needs can be met.” Hitch frowned a bit, resting his forelegs on the desk and his hooves over his lips, deep in thought. “So many ponies don’t feel like waiting, and if two of them happen to trust each other enough and agree it doesn’t really have to be more than that, to just meet that need together, it can happen, just like that.”

He was talking to himself, did it all the time during cases he had to solve while Sprout listened to his rants. Or well, more like his deputy did his own thing while answering the occasional ‘uh-huh’, 'yeah’ and perhaps a ‘sorry what?’ if his name came up. It were always empty conversations, but at least ones that helped Hitch untangle the mess of thoughts inside his brain by voicing them out loud.

Sprout, for once, seemed to be listening though, probably because inside that cell there was nothing else to do. Judging by the way he was narrowing his eyes, his deputy seemed to be catching up to something. Good for him, Hitch was still figuring that one out.

“I-It can…happen, yeah,” Sprout responded slowly, “friends with benefits, one-night stands, all that stuff.”

Those green eyes darted to the bottle on Hitch’s desk for a moment, maybe wondering if it had already gotten the sheriff drunk with just one glass.

Finally, Hitch felt it, the thoughts untangling, about to reveal what laid underneath the knots.

And Hitch had to pour himself another glass right away. This time not for the citric taste, but for the alcohol in it so he’d process his brain even daring to consider that idea.

And maybe, just maybe, so that way he’d get the courage to follow through with it.

Hitch gulped the beverage in one go, then looked over at Sprout, not at his face but straight up at that red soft body of his. The pillow was in the middle, blocking the sight of the thing that could give away how his deputy might feel about this whole thing, if he was still feeling like before.

The pillow wouldn’t disappear no matter how much Hitch stared though, so he looked down at himself instead. He was still unsheathed, but not as fully as before. Nonetheless, the evidence was there.

“They do.” Hitch’s gaze settled on the calendar at the other side of the room, at the thing that started this whole mess. “They can happen, between anypony, anytime.”

Sprout clicked his tongue, stretching his hindlegs as his forehooves drummed awkwardly over the bed. “Yeaaahh…I give up, I have no clue what we are talking about.”

Hitch was insane.

He was insane and about to do the stupidest of things he could do because of a need he didn’t want to wait to fulfill anymore. Because the past had unexpectedly come back to haunt him tonight. Because he just couldn’t let go of it despite everything telling him to do so.

Then again, how many times had he taken questionable decisions for his foalhood friends already? What was one more?

Hitch poured another glass, but this one was not for him. He always stopped at two. Knowing he held his liquor didn’t mean he’d take risks, less now at such an important moment.

“I’m just saying…today we discovered we, Maretime Bay’s sheriff and his deputy, may have some…unfinished business, and you already know how I feel about unresolved cases in the archive, so maybe...” Hitch lifted the glass to move it in slow circles, smirking to give himself confidence, trying to appear nonchalant as he observed the liquid inside. “Maybe it would be good to take care of that, don't you think?”

He looked over at Sprout. Though silent, his deputy was nodding, a smile slowly forming on his face as he seemed to be getting the idea.

“It's past twelve though, I’m off the clock so…shouldn’t work wait until tomorrow?” Sprout just tilted his head, his grin more out of rare courtesy than anything, and Hitch facepalmed at the actual idea just not getting past.

Alright, a direct approach was it.

Leaving his chair, Hitch once more walked towards the cell. He had the glass in one hoof, a key hanging on his sash, and his half-unsheathed cock now on display without a care in the world. Because yes, at this point, at this idea, at what he was about to do, Hitch didn’t have to care about anything anymore.

He pointed between Sprout’s legs then at his calendar on the wall.

“You have that because of that. And I have this because of that.” Just in case, at the second sentence he pointed at his hard-on then ar Sprout’s, not wanting his deputy to get the idea Hitch was that nascisistic.

“And…we are off the clock, or well we’ll be as soon as I open this cell.” Hitch tilted his head towards the keys for emphasis. “We could…take care of our needs…together.”

After a pause to blink, the longest one Hitch had ever seen, Sprout chuckled. “Alright, you were never good at pranks, but I admit you almost got me with this one.”

Hitch raised his brows, eyelids lowered, not a tad of a smile on his face. It took all of willpower to not sweat and give away he was not as collected as he was trying to be.

Sprout lowered his ears and his shoulders slumped at this.

“You’re…you’re serious,” he whispered.

“Correct.”

“You’re serious.”

“Double correct.”

“Oh- I- uh- I- But i’ve never- You are a stallion- and-and I am one and- It’s not-”

Besides the obvious blush, Hitch noticed Sprout hugging the pillow tighter, the way he pressed his hindlegs together underneath. Hitch couldn't help smirking a bit knowing he was already having an effect.

“I-I thought you didn’t do one-night stands?” Was the only thing Sprout ended up asking at the end.

“I didn’t consider it until now…but what I mostly said was I wouldn’t do it with a pony I barely know.” Noticing he was getting somewhere, Hitch kept his calm, collected and charming expression. “And we are far from strangers, and if our conversation and what happened in your bathroom and today are anything to go by, we are both…physically interested, willing to go out of the norm for this.”

He stepped forward, the cell now feeling like an obstacle in the way to fulfill his, their needs. Sprout was still far, still on that bed far from his reach, for now.

So Hitch kept his voice quiet, low and husky. A tone he only saved for one place and time: the bedroom. “We could finally stop waiting, Sprout.”

Hitch knew it worked when his deputy shuddered.

The bed creaked as Sprout climbed off, leaving the pillow behind — though not without hesitation. When he stood in front of Hitch, just the metallic bars separating them, he had his legs positioned in a way to hide himself, but Hitch could see it anyways, how his deputy's arousal was still slightly unsheathed between them. A mere remnant of the night that served as a good sign.

There was silence, a palpable tension as they both stood close to each other. They could hear each other breathing, see the need, the moons of yearning none of them knew the other carried until now, all finally about to explode if only even the tiniest yes was given.

“I’m not…this doesn’t mean I…”

“Do you want it to mean something?”

The slightest concern sneaked into Hitch’s voice.

“No.” Came Sprout's answer after some silence.

His tone was cold, more were his eyes. Hitch was torn between being relieved he was not playing with Sprout's feelings or offended by such a blunt rejection. But those thoughts were left aside as he noticed the way he was being looked at. There was a defiance in Sprout’s expression the sheriff hadn’t seen since…

Since when? It felt familiar, like Sprout may have looked at him that way more than once, yet Hitch couldn't even pinpoint when he had seen that expression directed at him before this.

Then again, he was the sheriff and he had no enemies. No pony in Maretime Bay would have reasons to look at him like that, right?

Before Hitch could keep wondering about that, Sprout closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his expression had softened. He was still frowning, still a bit tense, but not as much, looking more like his grumpy self.

“No, I don’t,” Sprout repeated more calmly.

“...Then it doesn’t have to.” Hitch tried to cover the sudden discomfort on his chest with a soft smile. “Just two stallions who’ve known each other for a long time lending each other a hoof.”

The stallion behind the bars stayed quiet for a moment, just staring, his gaze focused on Hitch as if trying to figure him out. Another unexpected thing because Sprout wasn’t one to stop to analyze…anything really. That had always been Hitch’s thing.

Finally, Sprout spoke up, brow arched, head tilted and eyes narrowed as his body threatened to give a step back. “...You know, blackmailing your deputy to do this with you in exchange for his freedom is not what I expected from you as a sheriff.”

“It’s not blackmail, it's an offer, which only consequence of not accepting is to spend the remaining minutes in the cell,” Hitch quickly clarified, his tone calm but deep down holding back a wince at how maybe his approach was not the more proper, “if you don’t want to, you just say no and we can pretend I never walked through that door earlier than usual.”

Then he paused. For a moment the courage left, the voice in his head telling him to not do what he might regret getting louder inside his head. Hitch could stay quiet now, allow Sprout to take the easy route and say no. Keep the status quo.

But that would mean more waiting, more lonely nights wondering just when will he ever get to wake up to more than an empty bed, wondering if maybe he should’ve taken that unique chance he had that one time. The chance to get what- who his teenage self had yearned for for so long, to get to feel close to his once-best friend again and, at least for one night, ignore how life had broken one of the very few friendships Hitch had left nowadays.

And Hitch could see it. He wasn’t the only one who wanted this. He wasn't sure if for the same reasons, he had no idea what his deputy really thought of him anymore to begin with, but Sprout hadn’t stepped back right away, hadn’t made it obvious he hated the conversation as he usually would if he was uncomfortable — unlike Hitch, the red pony had never been afraid to be blunt. Sprout still kept Hitch in his personal space, had nervousness in his voice between the uncertainty just now. He was waiting for any signs of the whole thing being a lie, a reason to not let his guard down.

Because if he did, he would fall for his own desires, and Hitch would be there to catch him like he had always done, since their games as colts to their patrols at work now.

When Sprout opened his mouth, Hitch rushed to continue his speech. “…Or, you can say yes, we go upstairs and, for one night, do the only thing two stallions can do in our condition.”

He offered his deputy the glass through the bars, the encouragement contained in one tiny drink, and waited, wished, for Sprout to not be afraid for once.

His deputy took what was being offered, stared at the drink in his hoof, his muzzle twitching at the alcohol reaching his nostrils. “...No strings attached?”

The tiniest sigh left Hitch, feeling relief at knowing things might, indeed, not end up being as complicated this time around.

Or so he hoped.

“None at all.” Hitch smiled softly, shaking his head, still trying to ignore the lingering discomfort in his chest.

“So…this means my sentence is over, right?” Sprout asked after a pause, “Because if it’s not, then doing that with me restrained with hoof cuffs or something sounds a little…”

There was an awkward chuckle from his deputy, then a long silence in the air as both waited for the other to deny the hoof cuffs thing.

None were doing it, so Hitch prefered to speak up before his brain started with the mental images. “Believe me, when it comes to you right now, the least I’m thinking about is your sentence.”

As if to prove his point, Hitch’s hard-on twitched involuntarily and began unsheathing fully again. Sprout’s own length did the same at the sight, the statement bold enough to get him to widen his eyes and shudder, needing to drink from his glass right away.

Then there was the rattling of keys, the cell unlocking, and finally, both giving the first steps to go upstairs, towards Hitch’s room.

Author's Note

This fic was written out of both love and spite.

I don’t like the smut fics in this fandom. I can mention maybe one or two I've enjoyed, and even with those I have some criticisms. My reasons? Plenty, and all of them have to do with MY OWN tastes, so that means I'm not attacking anyone, it's just a me problem. I’m picky, I love the characters too much and feel that people rarely write them correctly when it’s not a gen fic, all the smut I've seen is too porny and unserious for my preference for erotic works, I do not like at all how the ponies are all written so stupidly horny to the point of having sex with anything that moves just because, etc.

I'd say this applies to my favs Hitch and Sprout, but surprisingly it doesn't, because despite being one of the most popular pairings when the movie came out…they don’t have that many fics, less smut ones. Which is a shame considering their dynamic is SUPER interesting in ANG(the show…well it’s fun, but the writers ignored the potential and never explored Sprout nor his relationship with the rest properly, plus I prefer how Hitch is written in the movie). There’s Sprout’s envy, self-sabotage, and inferiority superiority complex on one hand; and Hitch’s lack of patience and condescending attitude on the other. Both have their reasons to not treat the other properly, and that mixes with the fact that, despite everything, being foalhood friends who spent most of their days together in the past and present has made them have a deep connection. It’s the good complex stuff and I tried to convey all that in this fic.

So what did I decide to do about the lack of content I wished I could see? What I never thought I ever would: leave my permanent writing hiatus to make a fanfic catered to my own tastes.

By no means I’m trying to say I’m a better writer or that I get the characters better than anyone else in this fandom. This is simply what I would like to see more of, and since I can’t have it, I can at least create and provide it to others.

This story is mostly based on the movie, but I’ve taken a few things from the show here and there. My own headcanons are here too…though they are based in canon and I’m aware some go against some popular beliefs in this fandom ^^; For example I will NEVER accept Hitch being treated as if he’d want to mount every pony that breathes near by. He strikes me as too proper and gentleman-like to be the kind of guy who goes around, and I believe his tics of giving dashing grins and flipping his mane are more out of narcissism than trying to seduce anypony lol. Do I see him as flirty and smooth? When he’s not being a doofus yes, but only with a pony he really feels comfortable with.

OKAY so, this chapter isn’t really smut. It wasn’t my intention to make the build up so long but…there’s a lot to unpack with these two and it just ended up happening, heh. What can I say, I like characters to have a believable reason to end up in bed. Don’t worry though, the smexy stuff comes right after this one ;) This story is already finished and I’ll be posting the remaining chapters after I’m done tweaking some details. Life is busy for me right now, so depending on how much attention this gets I’ll see how much of my free time I’ll dedicate to that. Just know sooner or later I’ll post the other chapters, I promise that.

Last thing, if the description sounds familiar it’s because this story is inspired by the fanfic “Sprout Gets His Brain Melted”. This is NOT meant to be a rewrite nor a different version or anything of sorts, I just thought the premise was funny and before I noticed I was already imagining it with my own vision of Hitch and Sprout’s dynamic and what different scenarios could arise from that. Besides one or two similar scenes, this is a completely different story.

(Last last thing: The term ‘moons’ here is used to refer to years, just like the movie did. Didn't add this at the start bc the notes ended being too long oops)