But Please, Don't Bite

by LyraFangirl

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: A New Generation, Romance, Sex, Hitch Trailblazer, Drama, Porn, Sprout
Length: 32257

Pre-movie — When Hitch finds his deputy in a compromising situation. this unburies the past, and soon sends the night spiraling out of their control

The bed creaked as Sprout climbed off. 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?”

(Or: Pre-movie —  When Hitch finds his deputy in a compromising situation. this unburies the past, and soon sends the night spiraling out of their control)

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

Inspired by the song ‘Bite’ by Troye Sivan, and my love for these characters that deserved better.

Cover art by @sin4thesoul, who's helping me with ideas for this story.

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

Contents:

Ch. 1: Long build up, complicated feelings, masturbation, closeted gay!Sprout, bisexual!Hitch, mention of hormonal teenagers, sexual tension, some alcohol(but no pony gets drunk).

Ch. 2: M/M clop, more complicated feelings, service top!Hitch, Pillow Princess!Sprout, frottage, hoofjob, edging, protected sex, gentle to rough sex, size comparation, praise kink, first time with a far more experienced partner, sexuality exploration, Sprout being anxious and bratty, Hitch being reaaally patient, two stallions who cannot communicate with each other for dear life somehow having decent sex, some aftercare

Ch. 3: Sprout's POV, even MORE complicated feelings, and sorta dealing with them the morning after that, internalized homophobia

Published 2024-05-17 20:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-07-15 01:36:46 UTC

1. I Can Be The Subject of Your Dreams

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)

2. Don't You Wanna See a Man Up Close?

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

Hitch’s home was divided in two. First was the station, the place every pony visited when needing his help as a sheriff, and accessible merely by opening the main door. And then, taking the stairs available at the backroom of the station, was his home home. Where he slept, ate, bathed, and went to relax after a long day of work.

He could go to the second floor with his eyes closed by now. His muscle memory was good already, more so with that place he had known well since he moved in after becoming sheriff.

Yet tonight, with his legs feeling like jelly, and that hot and wet weight bouncing between his legs with each move, it felt as if he would trip if he didn’t watch out for every single step of those stairs.

He had told Sprout to go first while he checked everything was set to lock the station for the night. Part of his usual routine, but this time it was done more as a means to give himself time to prepare mentally. Because Hitch knew tonight he wouldn't go to an empty room. There’d be a pony there, on his bed, there to do things with him.

And that pony was not a mare he was dating. It was a stallion, his deputy and foalhood friend who he just discovered there was a lot of unfinished business with. Unfinished business which they’d take care of once Hitch opened that door.

Gulping, breathing in deep to put on a nonchalant facade, an armor against the situation that had his hooves trembling, the sheriff finally turned the doorknob and stepped into his house.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected to find Sprout doing really. While Hitch was extremely polite and had always asked if he could do this or that at another pony's home even if he had been there multiple times, Sprout would be looking into their fridge without batting an eye on the first day. His friend was lucky neither Argyle nor Grandma Figgy had minded a few stolen cookies.

So yeah, considering Sprout had never been at his house — not Grandma Figgy’s, his house, his bachelor’s apartment if you will —, Hitch had expected to find his deputy making himself at home. But he imagined him watching the TV or something, not to see Sprout lying face down on his bed and taking a sniff of his pillow.

It was nothing bad considering the context. It was cute even, and it wasn’t like Hitch wasn’t guilty of having done the same on Sprout's bed at least once in the past. Still, when his friend noticed him standing in the doorway, it felt like their encounter at the station with the calendar again. Both blushing, eyes wide, and the atmosphere as awkward as it could be, even when they already knew what they were there for.

“Your bed smells like critters,” Sprout blurted out, quickly throwing the pillow back to the head of the bed.

The sheriff frowned a bit. First because Sprout almost knocked off the lamp of his nightstand by doing that, second because Hitch didn’t smell like critters, thank you. He took really long baths and used expensive products everyday, so he couldn’t-

…Okay, maybe he smelled like critters as well, but if Sprout hated it so much he wouldn’t have been sniffing his pillow like it was a good pizza after a long shift of work on a friday night.

“Yeah…they sneak here sometimes…” Hitch trailed off. “I’ll probably have to make sure they don’t do that tonight since...you know.”

Walking towards the window, he opened it to check no seagulls nor crabs nor other creatures were outside. There were no signs tonight, so that saved him the awkwardness of trying to tell them to give him some space. Not that they could understand him anyways. Sunny had joked once about how with how many critters Hitch had to deal with everyday, it would be useful to be able to talk to them. But that sounded like magic, a thing of unicorns and pegasi only. Earth ponies did not get involved with magic.

Locking the window and closing the curtains was a just-as-useful alternative to get rid of them anyways.

With that done, Hitch took a seat besides Sprout on the bed. Not too close, not too far. He found himself looking for spider webs on the ceiling, and his deputy took an extreme interest in the blue color of his bedspread.

Making the first move was always the hardest part.

If Hitch guessed right, Sprout had no clue what to do, what that move was supposed to be. Or he did but didn’t have the guts to make it since it was his first time. It was a moment that could be embarrassing if it went wrong.

Hitch on the other hoof? He was not a sex god as much as his past marefriends insisted he was, but he had been under the sheets way more than once, the experience was supposed to help him now.

Yet he felt just as lost now.

Here they were, in that room, in that bed, this bed from his life as an independent adult that he had yet to share with a pony. And it was Sprout who he would first share it with, for far far more than just a good night of sleep, if their hard-ons were anything to go by.

Just how was he supposed to set things off in this case? In a relationship it started with kissing, then making out, then hooves roaming, and then things just flowing naturally as they should when there was a couple involved.

But this was not a relationship, and as a pony who was about to have his first ever one night-stand, that already had Hitch questioning every little thing, again not wanting to give the wrong idea despite already having agreed on feelings not being in the way.

Kissing Sprout…the image alone made Hitch feel…

He couldn’t describe it. The curiosity of kissing a stallion, wondering how different it was from a mare. Maybe rougher lips, the movements more firm. Did Sprout know how to kiss? Had he given his first kiss even? Or would Hitch have to teach him?

A soft blush appeared behind his blond coat at the idea. A kiss was something intimate, an action that would start too pure and gentle for what they were supposed to do, what this was supposed to be. It would quickly escalate to not pure and gentle at all of course, it was dumb and even childish to treat it as something innocent, but still, Hitch did not want to create the wrong atmosphere.

Was he out of his comfort zone now in an act he was supposed to know from start to finish? Yes. Did that mean it would go wrong? Not on his watch. He was the one with experience here. He had to stay nonchalant, take the reins and guide this whole night into a successful one. Because Hitch Trailblazer was the sheriff, and no matter what, he always kept things under control.

So first things first: communicating.

If only that was as easy between he and Sprout nowadays…

“So…we are not here to sleep,” Hitch started, finally daring to make eye contact.

“Not in that sense, yeah”, Sprout responded, sitting up on the bed.

Hitch’s lips curled into a soft smile as he exhaled through his nose. This reaction got Sprout to smirk the tiniest bit. It wasn’t as often now, but once in a while foalhood friend still managed to make him laugh, and Sprout still liked to earn those reactions even if he pretended not to care.

With the tension dissipating, Hitch moved to be closer to Sprout.

“So…what should we do first then?” He smirked, again using that low and husky voice he saved for moments like these.

That didn’t work as well this time though. The moment their forelegs brushed, Sprout flinched and quickly crawled back on the bed, sweating heavily and pressing his hindlegs together to hide himself.

…Well, it seemed Hitch would have to be really gentle tonight.

“Hey, hey, easy, we’re in no rush here,” the sheriff raised his hooves and chuckled, though not without arching a brow, “let’s just talk now, I take it you know how this works?”.

“O-oh, uh- Yeahh, totally, I’m an expert.” Though his voice quivered, Sprout still tried to grin cockily as he sat straight on the bed, forelegs crossed over his chest. “I know everything a stallion has to know.”

Hitch quickly translated this as Sprout knowing the basics, but being at a loss of what to really do as it was his first time. It would make sense for Hitch to just take lead as he always did for everything that involved them as a duo. However, judging by how tense his deputy was now, it was obvious he was still processing how he felt around stallions, around Hitch in this context. Sure, Hitch was one of the few ponies who had the “privilege” of touching Sprout without getting his hoof smacked away, but this was not just them being a foalhood friend used to being close. This was another kind of touching all together, one Sprout seemed afraid to feel just yet, so maybe…

“Well then, since it’s the first time you do this, what if you go first?” With a calm smile, Hitch leaned back on the bed, still sitting and trying to appear casual with his forehooves resting on the mattress, but clearly hinting at something as his whole body was on display this way. “I'm here, a stallion like the ones of those magazines, in the flesh for you to…satiate any curiosity you may have, if that's what you want.”

Sprout’s cockiness vanished at the suggestion. As his ears folded back, his betraying gaze went lower and lower, exploring what was being offered to him. Hitch’s cock twitched at this. Big, dark, throbbing, showing fully the excitement its owner was trying to keep controlled.

Sprout gulped. Slowly, he raised a hoof, about to follow that primal need that had started this whole night.

Then he withdrew it a and shook his head, looking away. “I-I’ m good, I don't...”

“No pressure,” Hitch reassured, a little disappointed by the reaction but taking no offense, “what about you then?”

“Me?”

“Uh-huh, you.” The smirk was back on the sheriff’s face as he reached for Sprout.

“M-me?”

Now, of course Hitch did not want to overwhelm his deputy right away. Maybe it was the sheriff's instinct of chasing whenever somepony ran away from him, or the fact it was easy to lose some shame when in bed — the place and time where that feeling was meant to be forgotten —, but the moment Sprout again crawled back, messing the bedspread beneath on the way, Hitch found himself following him.

“Yes, Sprout, what would you like me to do to you?” He sat right in front of Sprout, close enough to touch him if he got a yes, but giving enough space so his friend wouldn’t suffer a cardiac arrest.

“You are asking me what I want…?” Sprout muttered this with so much doubt that Hitch couldn’t help but arch a brow. He was the sheriff, he was there for everypony, why would his deputy be so taken aback by him asking that?

“Well, you must have imagined something with my calendar version back at the station so…”

When he noticed Sprout blushing heavily, the fantasy clearly coming back to his mind, Hitch chuckled and wasn’t able to help himself. He crawled forward and forward, and Sprout back and back, until they ended in the perfect position: Sprout’s head resting on the pillow by the headboard, with Hitch on top of him.

“Whatever you want, I’m here for it.” Hitch whispered.

He noticed some strands dangling off his aqua-green mane, messing up that look he spent so long working on each morning. He didn’t fix them, his mind occupied on giving bedroom eyes to the stallion beneath him right now. Sprout gulped dryly at that look, his cock twitching.

It was hard to think just an hour ago Hitch wouldn’t even phantom the idea of throwing himself at his foalhood friend like this. Because how could he not do that now? Sprout just looked so nice right there, with his head right between where Hitch’s hooves rested over the mattress. And the way he was staring up at him with those wide eyes, blushy cheeks and his fur standing on end with every tiny move that threatened more proximity? It was quite a sight.

Sprout seemed to be having similar thoughts. Hitch saw the fleeting moment those green eyes darted to his lips, and with how close they were, he was tempted to follow the silent request. He could start by slowly putting those messy blond strands of mane back in place with his hoof, then let that touch trail down to those red cheeks, and then give in, fulfill that inner desire and kiss those lips Hitch had once dreamed about more nights than he’d ever dare to admit.

But he didn’t. He held back, telling himself those were his teenage self wishes, and that here and now such intimate gestures could give the wrong idea.

“The calendar, Sprout?” Hitch reminded him — reminded himself — in the middle of the silence. “What were you imagining with it?”

The question broke Sprout out of his mesmerized state, a more-familiar frown showing on his gaze.

“I-I'm not gonna tell you that!” His deputy raised his forelegs to cover his body as he looked away, his voice growing quiet after the outburst. “Just do whatever you do when you…with a pony…”

“Well…if it depends on me, when doing this I usually start by getting really close.” At being granted permission, Hitch grinned and slowly pressed his arousal against Sprout's. The shorter pony gasped, his hips tensing and hindlegs opening in surprise, earning a bit of friction that drew a satisfied hiss from Hitch’s nose.

Asking how that felt was unnecessary as Sprout’s eyes fluttered shut, biting his lip to hold back a sound that Hitch hoped he could get out of him soon enough. He was about to try to get it right away actually, but just before Hitch could move to earn more friction, Sprout looked down and pouted.

Arching a brow, Hitch followed his gaze to discover what had upsetted him: their cocks were not the same size.

Hitch had always been on the bigger side, one of the reasons why he was so careful during sex, unless his partner could take or wanted more. By no means this made Sprout’s standard-sized length lesser, but it was easy to tell his deputy was making these comparatives now and that just wouldn’t do.

Just when he opened his mouth to give any form of reassurance, a compliment even because he really had been holding back from getting his hooves on Sprout’s cock already, Hitch got interrupted.

“Turn off the lights.”

When Hitch blinked at the demand. Sprout rolled his eyes in an attempt to hold back a worse reaction. “You asked what I wanted, didn’t you? I said want the lights off.”

“...Alright.” Failing to hide the uncertainty in his tone, Hitch leaned to reach above the headboard.

The soft ‘click’ of the lightswitch was enough to grant Sprout's wish. Hitch’s eyes didn’t take long to adjust to the darkness. He could still see the stallion beneath him, the moonlight sneaking through the curtains being a welcomed help. He would rather have the lights on, see Sprout's expressions and watch every part of that body squirm under his touch in all its glory, but his deputy looked way more relaxed without being on full display like before.

Or so Hitch thought. Sprout had grown awfully quiet again. Hitch decided to pull away to sit back and give him some space.

“So…should we continue with what we were doing or…try another thing…?” Hitch asked quietly, but his only answer was to see his deputy nervously drumming his hooves over his own stomach while avoiding eye contact — or rather, the whole topic altogether. The sheriff sighed. “Listen, if you don’t want to do this whole thing you don’t have to force yourself, it’s fi-”

“I do want to, I do-!” Sprout sat up, quickly lowering his voice as he noticed how loud he sounded in the dark. “I just…”

Silence again. Sprout suddenly started sweating bullets. Hitch could swear he could hear his deputy fighting with the enormous amounts of locks and chains he had probably put over the box containing his deepest needs while still trying to avoid any insecurities from coming out.

After another moment, finally the last lock was out of the way.

“In my fantas- I mean, intrusive thoughts,” Sprout grumbled for a moment before his voice turned into a murmur. “…I guess you were…touching me?”

Hitch held back any comments about Sprout still being in denial when they already talked about it, and simply returned to being on top of Sprout, smiling as his hoof landed on his deputy’s shoulder. “Like this?”

Sprout, now back to laying over the bed, glanced between that hoof on his shoulder and Hitch. He narrowed his eyes, silently asking ‘are you greeting an old friend or about to have sex?’. This just made the sheriff’s smirk widen.

“Or like this?” Hitch’s hoof started moving, the friendly gesture shifting to far-from-innocent in an instant as it slowly trailed from Sprout’s shoulder to his neck, then to his chest.

As Sprout’s breath — heh — hitched, the taller stallion noticed his deputy's heart beating wildly where he was touching.

“Or something more…bold, perhaps?” This time Hitch purred as his caresses went to Sprout’s back, sneaking right under sash and successfully earning another gasp.

He took his time to feel the curve of his spine, relishing on every tiniest gasp or even whimper from the stallion underneath, on the way he unconsiously arched his back to follow the movement, how his hooves were grasping the sheets already.

This exactly was one of the things Hitch loved and missed so much about doing this. Sure, the pleasure played its part, but for him it went further than anything physical. Just as he loved being there for ponies of his daily life, this need extended to the bedroom. It was being wanted and needed, the satisfaction of knowing what he was doing, of learning which little touches like these would prove that.

It was a moment of trust and vulnerability. Things that didn't show often between the two friends nowadays.

Hitch slid his hoof lower, feeling Sprout’s waist, his flank, his thighs, inner thighs, just about to touch when fur turned into skin between them-

Then Sprout placed his hooves on Hitch’s chest. The sheriff tilted his head, observing how Sprout’s hind legs were opened by instinct, yet his eyes were still uncertain, fearful about what he was about to unleash by allowing things to go further.

“May I?” Hitch asked in a whisper, settling closer between Sprout's legs, his hoof just mere inches away.

Sprout looked down at where his body most ached for contact. He breathed in, then out, then repeated before slowly lowering his hooves. With a firm nod, he squeezed his eyes shut to brace himself. Hitch already lost count of how many times Sprout had turned a deeper shade of red that night.

Tentatively, Hitch went for it and cupped Sprout’s balls, feeling their heaviness for a moment before his other hoof joined on the exploration. He started calmly, just a light touch; first feeling the base, then the medal ring, then the bulging veins, then how it pulsed in his hoof, how hard and hot it was for and because of him.

Sprout shivered and opened his hindlegs more, his breath getting less and less steady with each touch. As Hitch reached the tip, he finally wrapped his hoof around Sprout’s length. He squeezed the tiniest bit, his ears flicking with interest at the precum leaking out, how strong the smell was, just like he so much had heard of.

Hitch was touching a cock, Sprout's cock. One that wasn’t his own. Different size, shape, color even, this one being mottled black and pink instead of completely brown like Hitch's.

“H-Hitch…” The way Sprout’s voice quivered made the sheriff lick his lips unconsciously.

The tone was needy, but not like the one Sprout had while fantasizing with the calendar. This time it sounded sharper, a weak protest barely holding back from turning into a plea by mere stubbornness.

Hitch looked up to notice his deputy was no longer grasping the sheets, but digging his hoof into the mattress while the other held onto the pillow under his head. He was trembling, eyes screwed shut, his mouth hanging open though barely any breath came out despite appearing a panting mess.

Hitch blinked off his trance at realizing he was teasing.

“Sorry,” He chuckled softly, finally moving his hoof to spread precum around Sprout’s length and start stroking, slow and gentle, like he usually started for himself. “It’s just…so new to me.”

“C-can hardly tell- hm!” Sprout's hips involuntarily lifted in a plea for more, yet he kept biting his lip to keep quiet. “Just don't stare so much.”

“I think I have the right to admire my work now.” Hitch hummed, his previous nervousness all gone by now and replaced by fascination at the sight in front of him. “You look nice like this, nothing to be ashamed of.”

Sprout's only response was another glare, yet Hitch noticed the cock on his hoof getting harder at the words. Taking note of that reaction, Hitch focused his touch on the head of Sprout's cock. He relished on the unhidden moan he successfully got out of those quivery lips.

But then his deputy clamped his mouth shut with a hoof, looked away and kept his eyes closed, trying to hide his reactions, what Hitch most wanted to see.

Something about having Sprout trembling under his touch, so responsive despite his attempts at remaining composed, just like he had imagined in the past, broke the last of Hitch’s restraints. An unsuppressed groan left his throat, and he pressed his whole body against Sprout's, their badges clinging at the mutual contact.

“Hey, c'mon, no need to hide from me.” The words escaped Hitch on their own, an intimate request that was not supposed to leave the depths of his mind. He was quick to invent an excuse and shower Sprout’s neck in kisses and nibbles to distract him, his stroking never ceasing. “The walls are thick here, the neighbors won’t hear if that worries you.”

His friend’s stuborness to keep quiet was still there even when it couldn’t rival Hitch's eager attention, muffled whimpers and gasps quickly filling the room.

The hoof that wasn’t stroking Sprout’s length went to explore his body, a stallion’s body; rougher than a mare’s, muscular and with a thicker coat, yet with some softness on his belly since Sprout was prompt to sit around eating junk food all day.

It was all new, but between his restless stimulation to Sprout's neck, he caught a sniff of something nostalgic. It was there, mixed with the fragrance of expensive mane products, sea breeze from their patrolling, and pizza from nights at the station; within all that, Sprout still smelt the same way he did back when their days were filled by childish games on grassy fields.

“Feels good?” Hitch whispered into Sprout’s ear, noticing he himself was panting a bit from excitement.

“I…I…” Sprout couldn't speak properly as he still fought to keep his sounds to himself in vain, but he managed to nod before tossing his head back and grasping the pillow underneath his head, another groan escaping him.

Hitch tilted his head at this reaction. At the odd thought that came to his mind, he quickly calculated the pros and cons, then went with the risky decision of taking the tip of that red ear into his mouth to nibble it.

Sprout tensed, melted and moaned loudly all in that order.

“Oh, so this is why you get angry whenever somepony touches your ears.” Hitch teased between less-hesitant licks and nibbles on that spot, his stroking on Sprout’s cock picking up the pace.

“Sh-shut up-!” Sprout tried and failed to growl a protest between his agitated breathing “Shit, I-I can’t-”

Hitch didn’t mind being talked back just this once, too distracted by the way Sprout's hips bucked instinctively under his touch, how that muzzle buried into his neck to muffle his sounds, and were- were those hooves digging into his back, holding onto him for dear life?

Hitch had to hold back the impulse to touch himself, to grind against his friend who needed him so much right now, not without asking first. Suddenly he was too aware of how pent up he was, but he also wanted to see Sprout coming undone. It would be so easy, just a few more strokes and-

Hitch stopped altogether when realization hit him.

Removing his hoof from that leaky cock, he patted Sprout’s shoulder with a whisper and a smile that came out more pitiful than intended. “Not yet.”

He couldn’t get to see his friend’s expression before he quickly rolled off the bed to look inside his closet nor far away. Probably a glare of sorts.

It wasn’t like Hitch intended to leave him hanging, he missed the warmth of his body already too, it’s just…he remembered Sprout was a stallion, and stallions did not handle multiple orgasms in a row that well unlike mares.

…Okay, Hitch could handle them, but he had practiced to reach that. Sprout was having his first time and overwhelming him wouldn’t do. He was already reaching his climax pretty soon too, but Hitch wouldn’t mention that out loud, of course.

“Sorry about that, I just want this to last a while, if you get me.” After finding what he was looking for, Hitch turned around to spot his deputy looking like he was about to faint. “Do you…need a moment?”

Sprout sat up on the bed with a wheeze, still rock-hard as he struggled to catch his breath after Hitch had gotten his hooves all over him.

“A-are you sure you’ve never been with stallions before?” he barely managed to ask.

“None until you, but it’s not…hard to guess where and how to touch.” Hitch shrugged. He couldn't help the confidence in his smile at the indirect compliment.

To this Sprout squinted and frowned a bit, which Hitch would only tilt his head at because…it really wasn’t that difficult? It had never been for him at least.

Before he could ask what the deal was though, Sprout’s gaze settled on what Hitch had in his hooves.

“Wait, what is…?”

“You know what it is.”

“No, I mean, what are you planning with that.” Sprout pointed accusatory.

Hitch looked down at the condoms and lube on his hooves. Things left from past relationships and that had been waiting for the day they’d finally be used again. He arched a brow, wondering for a moment if Sprout really had paid so little attention during sex ed class at school, until he noticed his deputy’s body language: ears flat against his head, trembling body, the horrified expression…and then it was Hitch’s turn to wince.

“Oh, I thought…since I was taking the initiative…” the sheriff trailed off awkwardly, returning to sit in front of the shorter stallion on the bed.

“Y-you…to me…?” Sprout crawled back, again putting up those walls Hitch had thought he had gotten past already.

“We don’t have to go that far if you don't want to, but we both have needs, and this is a way for us to feel good at the same time,” Hitch left the lube and condoms on display over the bed, “unless you have other ideas…?”

He gestured at the very-hard issue between his own legs. Though Sprout blushed and stared for a moment, by now it was to expect how he looked away too.

“But it's weird, a-and there’s no way that thing fits at all!”

“It can, it’s not that diffic-”

Hitch interrupted himself when he noticed he was getting pushy. He looked down at his own length for the first time in the night. He had been hard for a while now, but after the show Sprout put on a moment ago, now it was as throbbing and leaky as ever.

He didn’t want to treat Sprout as selfish for not jumping to touch him back right away, he knew his friend was dealing with his own stuff and had his own pace. Hitch had a lot of fun pleasuring others in bed, was having fun just now, but he just…he was not used to having to ask to be touched in bed, he never needed to in the past. And now that he was faced with the scenario he…he wanted to but he also had to be considerate and…

Hitch knew this problem about himself. Sunny had told him he struggled to put himself first. But how could he not? He was the sheriff, putting others first was his thing.

With a sigh, he laid over the pillow, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts.

After a moment, and to his surprise, it was Sprout who broke the silence.

“You sound like you’ve done this before, but you’ve never been with stallions, so how could you even…?” Sprout hugged his hindlegs before he slowly looked back at Hitch. “Unless you…with mares…?”

Hitch’s face turned bright red at the question, and his voice grew quiet as he suddenly couldn’t meet his friend’s gaze. “Uh…once or twice.”

“Oh my h-!”

The way Sprout just bursted out laughing almost made him flinch. Hitch hadn’t heard that sound nor made him laugh like that in so long, and it had to happen now after being asked if he had done it through the backdoor? Just an hour ago Sprout had this weird idea of Hitch being a stud who went around with anypony they met! And now what? Him trying stuff in bed was weird? Really?

Finally, Sprout’s laugh started to subside and a content sigh took its place. He laid right beside Hitch, their shoulders brushing.

“Better?” Hitch deadpanned.

“Much better.”

Hitch rolled his eyes. “Listen, my point is I know what I’m doing, and if we’ve both looked at the same magazine we know stallions are sensitive there so, if you’re scared it hurts, I promise I’ll take it easy and-”

“That’s not the problem!” Sprout snapped.

“Then what, Sprout?” Hitch asked, turning to his side to face him. “What’s the problem?”

There was an unexpected heaviness on his chest at the question. Just three words, three words he had been meaning to ask for so long now but never did out of knowing he might not like the answer, if there was one even. It was finally out.

But he forced himself to keep the question about the here and now. Not about their friendship, not about what happened to them nor what was Sprout's problem with him. It was not the time. When would it be? Hitch didn't know, but not tonight when things were not supposed to get complicated.

Sprout groaned and turned on his side as well. “I don’t know! Whenever I imagined-” He paused as he noticed they were both close and facing each other on the bed now. He was quick to give Hitch his back and cough, his voice quivering a bit now. “Whenever these thoughts randomly came to my mind…I was the one doing the…”

“You on top?” Hitch ignored the closeness had affected him a bit as well.

“Yeah, I mean- I’m a stallion, it’s what we do!”

“Well, I’m a stallion too.” Hitch blinked, brows knitting together as he slowly sat up. “One has…not to top.”

“I know.” Sprout grumbled.

The conversation died there.

As silence filled the room, once again Hitch tried to understand Sprout’s thoughts, and once again he failed at it. His foalhood friend refused to touch him, yet accepted being touched, then suddenly wanted to top?

Or rather, by the way he talked about it, he thought he should take that role.

Hitch understood that to an extent. He himself had been given that role by his past marefriends from the get go, was sure any pony who batted their eyelashes his way did the same. And Hitch never questioned it. He liked it just like he always liked to be there for others.

But he had always always been curious deep down, about how it would be to lay back and let another pony take the reins, to have somepony reminding him he deserved to just relax and think of only himself for a while, feeling pampered for once without the guilt of not returning the favor.

If things were perfect, Hitch could just agree to Sprout’s request and experience how ti was to give up control. But perfection was far from how their reality really was. Sure, he had fantasized about that as a teenager, had been guided by those memories back when Sprout used to be the strong one of the two as colts. He’d easily pin him down and laugh triumphantly during their play-fights, and Hitch did not mind, he used to be delicate both mentally and psychically, always careful to not hurt others even when he was supposed to do so in those games. Sprout looked happy to win, to get what he wanted like he always did, and back then Hitch would’ve done everything to keep that smile on his face.

But then came Hitch’s sheriff training as teens, the day he realized he became stronger and finally managed to be the one pinning Sprout down, and his friend didn’t take it well at all. Hitch only managed to avoid that from turning into a real fight because the teacher was around to stop Sprout.

They never play-fought again after that.

And Hitch learned that as future sheriff, he had to draw a line to keep the peace, even if it went against the happiness of a close friend.

So no, Hitch couldn’t really…see the scenario of Sprout on top in the same light he did as a teen. Less now that the idea of bottoming felt out of Hitch’s comfort zone. It was not something he’d dare to try now with Sprout during a one-night stand at least.

Besides, Hitch was the one with experience here, it just…made more sense for him to be the one taking the lead, just like it had always been between them — or for the last couple moons at least.

“Hey,” Hitch’s hoof reached for Sprout's shoulder, waited until his deputy turned his way, then kept whispering. “As a pony who loves rules, I tell you there are none to who has to do what between two stallions, but…you are aware it’s not easy to be top, are you? You have to make sure your partner feels good at all times, focus on lasting, not to mention it's pretty much like exercise as you also need to-”

He couldn't even finish nor present his points about why it was better for Hitch to top before Sprout groaned and scrubbed a hoof across his face in defeat. Considering how uncomfortable he looked talking about topping, it almost...felt like he was waiting for Hitch to insist?

“Fine, but if it feels weird-” Sprout stopped mid sentence as he spotted the sheriff taking a condom out of its box. “Wait, why do we need those again? It’s not like we…”

Sprout couldn’t finish the sentence before Hitch had already rolled the condom over his length with well-practiced expertise. The taller stallion blinked, blushing a bit as he realized how desperate he must’ve looked — he was, to be honest, and their hard-ons would only last for so long at this point.

“I mean we don’t really need them, I can assure that, but I have never not used them and…” Hitch’s reflected, looking down at the package.

Honestly, he had put it on out of force of habit, since his love to keep ponies safe extended to bed. But even if protection wasn’t needed this time, something about choosing not to use that layer for the first time, and that being here and now with Sprout during a one-night thing, it made him feel…not safe, and not in the physical sense.

“You want a sex ed class now? You know I had a ten on that subject in school.” Hitch crossed his forehooves, half-joking in an attempt to avoid the topic.

“Alright, alright, my mom insists I should wear those anyways.” Sprout grumbled, and Hitch had to hold back his grimace at his deputy mentioning his mom now of all times.

“All settled then, just let me…” Just as Hitch was positioning himself over his friend again, he stopped to remove his sheriff sash and tossed it to the floor, wanting — needing — complete freedom to move for this.

Sprout’s ears flicked with a betraying interest at the sight. Hitch flexed his chest a bit, earning a frown from the stallion beneath him that he could only chuckle at.

Then when he reached for his deputy's sash, Sprout held onto it instinctively.

“You sure you don't wanna..?” Hitch tilted his head, smirking softly as his hoof barely tugged at the leather. “It’ll get intense.”

“I-Intense…?

“Good intense.” Hitch tugged just a bit more, “I mean you'll sweat a lot and this'll be a mess to wash later.”

“…right.” With trembling hooves, Sprout sat up to remove his sash himself.

There was a hint of vulnerability in the air after the deputy badge clinged against the floor. Now out of their uniforms, they truly were just two friends sharing the night.

The red stallion didn't seem to enjoy this sudden intimacy, as he almost jumped at the ‘pop’ of the lube bottle being opened.

“W-wait, hold on- I’ll…“ Sprout quickly turned to lay on his stomach.

Hitch cocked a brow as he poured some lube on his hoof, then closed the bottle to leave it aside. Not only was Sprout hiding his face this way, but also his ears were folded back and his tail was pressed between his trembling hindlegs to cover what was in between. Somehow, his friend managed to find new ways to avoid showing himself in an act where ponies were supposed to be trusting and psychically close as possible.

Knowing him, how things were now, that shouldn’t be surprising, so Hitch ignored the lingering disappointment at knowing even he as a foalhood friend was nos trusted enough to see that part of Sprout.

“Okay, this works, but I kinda need to see your…” Hitch wrapped his hoof around the base of that blond tail, but couldn’t even pull before Sprout released some sort of quivery squeak and lifted his hindquarters on his own accord.

Hitch narrowed his eyes. Yeah, no way his deputy hadn’t imagined himself in this position at least once.

“Uh…good, good…” He patted Sprout’s back in an atempt to clarify his chuckle was not mean-spirited.

While Sprout buried his face on the pillow to hide his shame, the sheriff took a moment to admire the view. Sure, it was nothing new as ponies didn’t really hide their goods in public, but still, a flank willingly presented to you for rutting…it was something else. And Sprout’s flank looked really soft if Hitch was honest.

It was tempting to touch it, but Sprout was way too nervous already so Hitch had to remind himself to go slow.

“Try to relax, okay? I’ll be gentle.” Still holding the blond tail so it wouldn’t get in the way, Hitch’s lube-covered hoof reached for Sprout's entrance.

“Of course you’ll be-” Sprout’s scoff was interrupted by a shudder and a whiny as the cold gel made contact.

“Easy, It’ll get better, I promise,” Hitch smiled with a bit of guilt, being careful with making sure his friend was all lubed up.

Sprout just grumbled against the pillow. Even without being able to see his face, Hitch could tell his deputy was frowning and blushing, probably embarrassed by the position he himself chose, but not uncomfortable at least.

“Good, then here goes the suffering for me.” Releasing Sprout’s tail, Hitch poured a good chunk of lube on his hoof again, then hissed at how cold it felt even through the condom.

As he spread the lube around his length, he couldn’t help touching more than needed, letting out a pleasured groan just thinking about what he was about to do. He noticed Sprout arching his back unconsciously, the way he grasped the sheets a bit as the sounds already had an effect on him.

Hitch smirked as he positioned his member to rub the tip against Sprout's entrance. His movements were calm, but deep down the sheriff was not as nonchalant as he appeared, still not believing he was about to do this with his deputy and foalhood friend, with the stallion he had once dreamed of being with like this in the past.

But again, one had to be the calm and composed of the two, and that was Hitch’s role.

Leaning forward, his hooves reached for Sprout’s sides to caress them softly, trying to ease his trembling.

“Just breathe,” Hitch whispered in his ear, not without brushing it a bit with his muzzle to tease, earning a shiver more of arousal than fear.

Then, at the first signs of air entering Sprout’s lungs, Hitch pressed forward.

Just the tip easing in already had Sprout releasing a choked whimper, his breathing hitching. Hitch groaned as the tight entrance already clenched around him.

“Relax, Sprout,” he almost begged in a shuddering breath, his hooves digging a bit into the skin, “just a little more, you’re doing good.”

The words of encouragement worked and Sprout did as told. Though not without struggling to breath steadily, he forced his body to relax and try to take more. With that, inch by inch Hitch managed to make his way inside thanks to the lube, taking the muffled whimpers and gasps as a sign that things were well.

Then the medal ring got past, Hitch's balls rested against Sprout’s once he was deep inside, and he all but melted.

“Oh f-…okay,” Hitch moaned out, breathing in deep as he prayed to be able to last more than a few thrusts. “Okay.”

“A-all good with my..? Uh…my…” Sprout was panting heavily, shivering with every tiny movement the pony on top made.

“Yes, you just feel good, that's all…warm and tight….” Hitch chuckled, his muzzle nuzzling against the back of Sprout’s neck affectionately, “What about you? How do you feel?”

At the nuzzle and his first words, Sprout hid his face further into the pillow. Hitch was sure he felt his deputy clench around him too. He took note of those reactions.

“I’m fine, just…it feels…I-It’s all inside, right?” Sprout grabbed onto the pillow, probably still getting used to being stretched open. “Don’t think I can fit more.”

“Yep, you fitted all inside.” Hitch grinned, and for emphasis his hoof reached for Sprout's stomach, grunting as he felt his own cock behind the slight bulge. “Good job, stud.”

Again, Sprout clenched around him, and the shuddering whimper confirmed his suspicions. Hitch couldn't help the hint of mischievousness in his grin. So his friend liked to be praised in bed? That was interesting.

Not that Hitch was too different.

“You’re…it’s pulsing,” Sprout breathed out, a hint of fascination in his tone.

“Hmm...just for you.” He buried his muzzle on the back of Sprout’s mane, his voice husky as his hoof reached lower. “Now, who’s taking me well?”

He moved inside just a tiny bit, and a non-silenced moan left Sprout as Hitch grabbed his cock.

“I am…” His deputy pretty much melted over the bed as a dreamily sigh left his lips, but he was quick to cough and attempt to deepen his voice to hide it. “I-I am.”

“You are.” Hitch had to hold back a snicker. “Now, ready to show me how good you’ll keep taking me?”

Sprout paused before nodding. “Just…don't destroy me.”

“Wouldn’t ever think of it. Now I just gotta find the…”

Hitch started with one short, experimental thrust. When Sprout muffled another sound against the pillow, he tried again with a little more force than the first. While he kept holding Sprout's length, he gave one, two, three thrusts in a row…and barely on the third he knew he hit that sweet spot as his deputy tensed, released a choked moan and oh — Hitch moaned as well when that tight heat clenched around him really nicely this time around.

“Stop touching me.” Sprout blurted out.

“Huh?”

“Stop touching me!” The panic in his voice made Hitch release Sprout’s cock as if it burned.

“What? Did I hurt you? Want me to pull out?” Hitch asked with concern, but this quickly dissipated as looked down to notice how, within the moonlight, he could see Sprout’s cock was leaky and flared. “Oh, right at the edge already?”

A confident grin formed on Hitch's muzzle as he chuckled because, wow, was he really capable of getting a stallion so excited with just some thrusts and touching?

This wasn’t meant as mocking, but he realized late it came off that way when Sprout rushed to put the pillow over his own head and muffle a mortified sound underneath. Hitch facepalmed at his own actions. He should know not lasting was embarrassing for stallions already.

Before his friend had the chance to jump out of the window to escape the situation, the sheriff wiped his hoof clean on the sheet, released the tail in his other hoof and then touched Sprout's shoulder. The only thing keeping his deputy there was a Hitch being inside him, and considering how good Sprout was at running away despite being out of shape — hopefully Hitch wouldn’t ever have to deal with him ever becoming a fugitive or whatever, because that would be a tough case — he had to act now.

“Hey, hey, it's okay,” Hitch said too quickly. “You have been holding it up, you’re pent up and-”

Sprout interrupted him, his voice muffled under the pillow. “T-this doesn’t- I don’t usually-”

“It happens to everypony, Sprout.” Hitch interrupted back. “Me inside you, did it feel good when I moved? Focus on that.”

“Oh, uh…it felt…weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?

“I-can-get-used-to-it weird?”

The taller stallion paused, but considered Sprout would burst at any second if he wasn't careful so yeah, they were heading somewhere. “Think you can last so I can turn it into really good weird then?”

Putting the pillow underneath his chin again, Sprout hesitated before answering. “Just…don’t touch me so much and I’ll be fine.”

“Noted.” Hitch held back a relieved sigh.

The bed creaked as he rested his whole weight on it, his forehooves at both sides of the pony underneath. Sprout tensed for a moment as Hitch’s front made contact with his back, barely holding back a nervous squeak at knowing he was completely at the mercy of a stallion now.

And so Hitch thrusted away. Slow, gentle, deep, and in just the right way.

He quickly lost count of how many blissful groans, grunts and moans left him within the first minutes.

“Oh stars above, Sprout…” The name rolled off his tongue in a moan that finally could fulfill its fate. A moan that was not shamefully hidden inside a bathroom, but instead out here in his room with that stallion that had ignited those flames so many moons ago.

Sprout couldn't keep quiet either. He hadn't been able to hide his sounds back then, less he would be now that he was living his fantasy. No matter how much he kept himself buried on that pillow, at least a few muffled moans would reach Hitch's ears each time he made sure to hit that sweet spot inside him.

And it weren't only the sounds indicating his foalhood friend was having the time of his life between his hooves. Sprout was taking every thrust, pushing back by instinct, by a mere raw need for more. A ‘more’ that Hitch was more than eager to provide.

It was everything he needed right now. Just for that single moment Hitch was able to forget about everything. About friendships that were not the same, about feelings that shouldn't come out, about empty beds, roles to fit or wishing not to fit them. Because all he was worried about was being here now, as psychically closer as possible to Sprout, both being there for each other without their pride on the way.

“D-Does it feel good?” Hitch asked, panting against the back of his friend’s neck.

“Y-yeah…”

“Want me to go faster? Harder?” It was more of a plea than a suggestion, barely holding himself from following his own wish.

There was a pause as Sprout slowly lifted his face from the pillow at the question. Hitch couldn't see his expression in that position, but the sudden determination on his voice gave him an idea of it.

“Faster.” Sprout’s voice didn’t shake nor hesitate like before. He wasn’t making a request. It was an order, a commanding tone that came out of its hiding deep inside, one Hitch hadn’t heard being directed at him ever since he became Sprout’s superior.

“On it.” Hitch obeyed without question, with the same dismissal of work or any roles he had integrated into his brain, and picked up the pace.

He groaned blissfully as his thrusts — his pounding — were only met with more sounds of enjoyement that Sprout muffled against that pillow. Hitch’s body moved on his own then, his hooves going to hold his deputy's hips, keeping him where he wanted and needed him, where Sprout needed it.

And just with that, the usual lonely silence of the sheriff’s room was quickly filled with pants, moans, and the wet smacking of their bodies meeting over and over again.

“F-fuck, Hitch!”

Hitch’s eyes snapped open as he heard his name coming unmuffled from those lips; loud and clear for him to cherish after one well-aimed thrust had made Sprout forget about his pride for a moment.

But that disappeared as quickly as it came. His friend buried back into the pillow, hiding his face, his sounds, his vulnerability, everything about himself away from Hitch once again.

Something about Sprout not trusting him for that when maybe once he would've, to not be able to experiment this fully as they could've done if only things between them were as they used to, made Hitch's self control break.

And for once, just this once, he decided to be selfish.

“Oh for the love of-! Come here.”

“What the- ah!”

He gave Sprout no time to speak as he pulled out to roll to his side, dragging the other stallion with him. Hitch’s hoof settled on Sprout’s chest to keep his back pressed against his own muscular body, his other hoof holding Sprout’s hind leg to keep him wide open for him.

Then, in one swift motion, Hitch entered him again, and fucked him so good neither of them could even think about keeping each other at arm’s lenght anymore.

It worked. Sprout became a delicious mess of whimpers and moans and he was so loud, as only the Sprout he knew could be.

Hitch didn't break his own promise and kissed him right there only because his whole body was too busy already. Instead, he rested his chin on Sprout's sweaty mane, his nostrils flaring, releasing grunts of both pleasure and struggle to keep up with the need of his own body as he continued thrusting.

“I-I’m gon-” Sprout was unable to speak coherently at this point. “C-clo-”

“Close?” Hitch breathlessly guessed, “ple-please tell me you’re close…”

Feeling his own climax near, Hitch continued moving at that fast pace, his hoof going from Sprout’s chest to stroke his flared length, hoping with all his heart to get an affirmation.

Sprout became an ever bigger mess at this, but Hitch did manage to hear a desperate 'yes!’ before there was a choked moan and his deputy was spurting all over his hoof.

And with this Hitch could finally let go. As he stroked his friend until the last drop came out, he buried himself balls deep inside him, sinking his teeth into his shoulder when his delighted groan threatened to turn into a loud cry. Sprout only had the energy to whimper at the bite while the sheriff continued grunting until the last remains of his seed left his length.

Then peace came after the storm.

They were hot, tired, sweaty, and only the sound of their heavy breathing could be heard for a while. With his mind still a foggy, Hitch only managed to give a lazy lick to the spot he had just bitten into as a silent apology, earning a shudder and a weak whiny from the pony on his grasp. Despite how sticky they felt, they didn't move an inch from the cuddly position.

It wasn’t bad nor strange. Hitch loved to cuddle after sex, but here…well, he mostly wasn’t sure what Sprout thought of it. They had hugged like that as colts in their sleep unconsciously on sleepovers at least once or twice. And even when that stopped when they reached their teenagehood, Sprout never lost that tendency to invade his personal space despite complaining about how stallions ‘didn't do hugs and stuff like mares did’. Even as coworkers he kept on holding onto Hitch whenever he was scared, and though not as often, Hitch had holded back onto his deputy in the really rare cases he felt nervous during an investigation.

So yeah, the cuddling wasn't unwelcome since Sprout hadn’t told him to get off, but Hitch could feel himself getting soft already, and with the condom that would be a mess. With a last grunt, he pulled out, eliciting a final involuntary gasp from the other stallion.

After removing the condom and tying it into a knot, Hitch tossed it into the trash can beside the nightstand and rested on the bed. He noticed Sprout had turned to lay on his back as well, so now their sides were touching, their tails crossing with each other over the messy sheets as they stared at the ceiling.

Hitch unconsciously found himself leaning his head on Sprout's. A look for at least a bit of the aftercare he was used to.

He closed his eyes and sighed contently when Sprout leaned his head back.

It was his deputy who broke the silence. Not with words, but with a sound, a mix of a huff and a whistle that could only be interpreted as 'so that's what sex feels life’.

Hitch smirked, taking that as a compliment. He turned his head to look at his foalhood friend. Sprout did the same. Compared to when they were laying like this moments ago, this time they were closer, and so without intending to, their muzzles ended barely inches away from meeting.

Both widened their eyes as they felt each other's breath for a moment.

Once again, Sprout had the biggest reaction by being the first to move back, frowning, his guard up despite almost falling off of the bed. Hitch moved back a bit as well.

Considering that reaction, it probably was a good idea that he didn't follow on the instinct of kissing his friend when they were about to finish just now. He did not want to complicate things in the first place.

Though deep down the sheriff couldn't help but wonder if he wouldn't regret leaving that chance pass after tonight.

Hitch pushed those thoughts back where they belonged and began fixing some strands of his mane that were now stuck to his sweat-dripped forehead, trying to remain nonchalant as he waited for his heartbeat to calm down. “So, your first time, was it…good? Thoughts?”

Now calmer with the change of topic, though still not smiling, Sprout’s voice came out hoarse when he spoke up. “It was…intense.”

Hitch nodded with a weak chuckle. Though Sprout turned to face the ceiling again, his gaze remained on his own hooves, on the way they drummed softly over his stomach in a sheepish gesture Hitch knew well coming from him.

“Intense indeed.” Hitch sighed contently again. “I really needed that.”

“I could tell.”

Turning his head, concern flashed on the sheriff’s face as he noticed Sprout touching the spot where he had been bitten.

“Aw, gee- Sorry about that, I really didn’t mean to-”

“It doesn’t hurt.” Sprout raised a hoof when the guilty stallion attempted to check the bite mark. “You know you wouldn’t hurt a fly even if you tried to.”

In one hoof, Hitch was glad that even with his rougher side taking over, he had been careful enough not to hurt his friend — there would be whining about needing a hospital otherwise. Now in the other hoof, for some reason Sprout had rolled his eyes at mentioning his inability to hurt anypony, being sarcastic as if that was a bad thing?

One had to admit his deputy had some nerve trying to argue with whom had pounded him good a moment ago.

If Sprout suddenly was upset over his kindness, or the bite, or — stars, he hoped not — dealing with post-nut clarity now, Hitch didn’t feel like going back to the usual arguing now.

Looking around, the sheriff noticed the remaining condoms over the nightstand. His gaze darted to Sprout again. The sight of him so close on the bed, sweaty, the fur of his chest stuck together with fluids Hitch had caused to leave his body, and his cock soft and spent but still unsheathed between his legs. Most importantly, still not leaving Hitch’s side despite not having anything else keeping him there.

Then came a deja vu. A memory of two colts resting besides each other on the grass after a long day of playing, catching their breath while they observed the dark sky. There was nothing left to say, no energy to continue their game, yet they remained there in silence, knowing that if any of them mentioned the obvious they'd have to say goodbye.

Their colt selves never liked saying goodbye.

And now as adults? Usually they didn’t bat an eye, but right now…they didn’t want to say that word. Not knowing that this time they won’t be meeting as the normal friends they used to be once the sun came out.

“Sprout?”

“Hm?”

“Can you last another round?”

Staring at his foalhood friend, Hitch held up another condom, near his mouth, ready to rip the package open the moment he got an affirmation.

“Oh, uh…T-totally, of course I can last! Why wouldn't I?” Despite trying to sound confident, Sprout’s laugh was awkward as his ears lowered a bit.

Hitch hesitated at this reaction. But just a second later he saw Sprout turning his body towards him, the way he leaned on his elbow as he rested one of his round cheeks on his hoof. Slowly, as they stared at each other, that awkward smile softened to an expression Hitch couldn’t quite describe.

Then there was a frown, a fire in his eyes Hitch hadn’t seen before, and a nod that almost felt like a challenge was settled between them.

Again, Hitch didn’t quite get where Sprout's sudden determination came from. Right now, he just knew he gladly followed his command.

Feeling his own cock twitching and about to get hard again in anticipation, he got on top of Sprout, knowing that the night will be far from perfect, that he will have to deal with walls and disagreements and whatever mess would come out of this the next morning. But it didn’t matter, he would know what to do.

Because Hitch was the sheriff, always there to keep everything under control. And he was Sprout's foalhood friend, always there to deal with him.

Author's Note

Aand here it is, 10k words of ol good smut(or at least decent I hope). Hope it's worth the wait, I'm thankful for the support this story got so far! Wasn't sure how many HitchSprout fans were still out there, so it was a nice surprise to see all the lovely comments

This is where the song ‘Bite’ by Troye Sivan really comes in. This chapter is titled after that one line that I think defines best the feeling of a man approaching another intimately for the first time, being this the case for both Sprout and Hitch here~

This chapter was the most complicated to write for me, yet the easiest to edit. I guess that’s because it’s mostly actions and not as focused on thoughts and dialogue. I had to REALLY analyze the characters to see if my idea of how they act in bed made sense. The time, dynamic and experience in-story of the characters influenced a lot on how the sex scenes played out too, and BOY was it something I’ve never written before. I’ve already worked with characters having their first times with more-experienced partners, but this was the first where I could explore the experienced one seeing things in a new light, as this was Hitch’s first with a stallion and not a mare. All the miscommunication that came with their dynamic was something new for me too, almost felt like I was trying to make things work out along with these two idiots, haha. Not to mention it is the first time I write ponies doing the do. For that reason I, shamefully, couldn’t focus as much on preparation as I would’ve liked. Couldn’t include fingering here for obvious reasons, and rimjobs ain’t a thing I wanted to write so…ye, as realistic as I wanted this to be, let’s go by fictional logic here and pretend stallions can handle themselves just fine without that much pre.

About the roles, as you can see I went with what seemed as the obvious route between these two, but tried to twist it a bit so it was as complex as them. I’d explain it here but it’s all in the chapter already lol Just saying that Hitch being a service top(curious about being switch) and Sprout a bottom pillow princess comes from a place of deep analysis and not just because. I do think they’ll try to switch things up once in an established relationship, once Hitch learns to give up control and Sprout to communicate properly and isn’t so anxious in bed ofc(I don’t think they’d switch often though, it’d be rare).

As for the condoms, yeah, that one I admit was me doing it out of spite. I think being considerate and protecting your partner in bed is really fucking sexy, which is not often seen in smut bc people want porn ig. Hitch IS a responsible character who loves protecting others, I do think he would have the ‘safety first’ sex thing integrated into his brain. Does it make sense here considering there’s no risk of foals and both are clean? No, but I wanted to write Hitch having protected sex and I WROTE IT, fight me. I still tried to explain it somehow, and ended up using the extra layer as yet another way these two kept their distance even in the most intimate moment.

Nex chapter is the grand finale! We’ll see Sprout’s thoughts about the whole thing and its aftermath. In the meantime I'll love to know your thoughts of this chapter :) comments are appreciated.

3. Kiss Me On The Mouth And Set Me Free

━━━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

Sprout didn’t last another round at all.

Or well, he did, he had pushed himself to be able to and…yeh, he definitely shouldn’t have done that. He had ended up sore, sticky all around, barely feeling his lungs, and he was sure Hitch’s stupid cock was so big it somehow reached his brain because, no joke, Sprout could not think of anything else while he laid there unable to move after they were done.

He couldn’t remember much after that. Just his vision being blurry, a voice asking if he was okay, being handed some water, and then his body giving up and falling asleep over his own fluids.

For some reason that felt better than waking up like this: tucked in Hitch’s soft bed, the sun as bright as it could be, and dumb birds chirping like this was such a beautiful morning. It was not. It shouldn’t be. Sprout was supposed to feel like shit after what he did.

He did actually, but only a little, and for the wrong reasons.

A hoarse sigh left him as he turned on the mattress. In his sleepiness, he nuzzled against the soft fabric underneath, finding himself sighing at the familiar scent of seabreeze, cologne and critters that reached his nose.

Then Sprout’s eyes snapped open, and it was with a horrified gasp that he rushed to throw Hitch’s pillow in his hooves as far as possible from him.

Now awake, he realized the sheriff was not in the room. That was good as Sprout didn’t want to face him yet. The bed’s size was for one pony only, which meant they probably ended up cuddling unconsciously in the middle of the night like they had done as colts once or twice.

“Shit…” Sprout grumbled to himself as he felt his cheeks warming up. That was not something he needed to think about right now. Yesterday was bad enough.

When he noticed the sticky note on the lamp beside the bed and reached for it. The note said Hitch allowed him to sleep in, and that he could use the bathroom and serve himself breakfast before his shift. Sprout narrowed his eyes at the nightstand where his neatly folded sash rested besides the clock showing he was an hour late already. Was Hitch really expecting him to work after he rearranged his guts twice last night? What even-?!

With a loud groan, he kicked the sheets off and sat up, his hindlegs dangling off the bed. He cursed softly as he already felt soreness on his body. Either that was for the extra round or Sprout not being used to psychical activity of any kind, otherwise there was no way ponies made such a big deal about sex if it felt like this afterwards.

Sprout buried his face in his hooves with a groan. He now understood the big deal about sex because of Hitch. Hitch. The pony who used to be his foalhood friend and then went and took the sheriff badge right in front of his eyes and now just kept bossing him around all day. Never in a million moons he would’ve imagined-

…Okay, he did imagine this. Maybe once or twice when his dumb mind played tricks on him, when those thoughts about how Hitch just had it easier in life because he had a perfect mane and shredded abs shifted to wondering how those abs would feel like, and then more and more stuff a stallion shouldn’t think about other stallions.

He just- the idiot really had to go and jerk off in his bathroom that night, Sprout’s own teenage hormones had to betray him and-

It shouldn't have meant anything, it hadn’t meant anything for a long while, and as long as Hitch didn’t find out about it it would’ve been fine. But he found out and now-

…It ended in the most unexpected way possible.

About the reminder of that night Sprout would’ve expected denial from Hitch’s part. About the calendar thing straight up anger or an awkward rejection as if Sprout had just confessed his feelings. It shouldn’t have gone further than that.

Actually Hitch shouldn’t have rejected him in the first place because Sprout didn’t have a crush on him, he didn't want to date him or some dumb romance stuff. He had enough with his identity shifting from ‘that cool colt Sprout who’s the son of that rich lady who protects town’ to ‘Hitch’s friend’ during school, then now being only known as ‘Hitch’s deputy’. He didn’t need to add ‘Hitch’s coltfriend’ to the list as yet another thing keeping him under his shadow.

Also Sprout wouldn’t ever date a stallion because he didn’t like stallions, he didn’t! He was not some sort of-

“Alright, I’m deputy Sprout, about to start a normal morning after a totally normal night where nothing weird happened with my boss.” He told himself as he stood up. “Normal, everything is normal.”

With a huff, he followed the note’s instructions and tossed the sheets into the laundry basket, then decided to start his day.

First was his bath of shame. It started good with the water at the perfect temperature and finding Hitch had his cabinet full of high quality products — a thing both agreed on was on taking good care of their mane —, then got horrible as Sprout had to wash away every evidence from last night off his body. The fur of his chest required a few rinses until it no longer was stuck together with his own fluids, and ugh, he’d give it to his superior this once and be thankful he insisted on the condom, because cleaning his junk off his insides would’ve been humiliating.

Once that was done, Sprout stood in front of the mirror to dry himself, then did his mane and put on his sash. Noticing the mirror fogged over where his deputy badge was on his reflection, he wiped a few lines to form a star over it, pretending it was a sheriff badge as he grinned cockily at his mirror-self like Hitch probably did each morning.

The expression faltered as quickly as it came. That usually lifted his mood at least for a moment, but it was difficult now with everything that happened yesterday, plus how he smelt like a certain muscular stallion now after using his products, and being there in that bathroom that could be his instead of Hitch’s if only-

Alright! Time for breakfast.

Sprout took his sweet time to go to the kitchen and serve himself the coffee and pancakes Hitch had already left prepared for him on the table. It wasn’t like he had never been late to work anyways. The note didn’t say anything about being allowed to take chocolate syrup and cream from the fridge for them too but whatever, Sprout did it anyway.

As he sat down, the first bite to the fluffy dough brought a little moment of joy to the morning. The pancakes tasted the same as the ones Hitch’s grandma made. It had to be her recipe.

Sprout hadn’t tried them since…maybe the last time he had gone to Hitch’s foalhood house? He probably hadn’t been aware that would be his last visit back then, considering the two of them just…stopped hanging out as often at some point.

The bittersweet memory made him eat in silence.

Silence was the worst. Sure, Sprout liked when no pony bothered him and to be in peace, but that didn’t mean he liked that one thing that came with it. Silence meant any tiny noise could be a unicorn or pegasus lurking, it meant boredom, it meant it was yet another friday night alone spent in the office because he had no real excuse like hanging out with friends or a pony waiting at home to not stay overnight if asked to — and no, his mom didn’t count, Hitch already knew she tented to stay late at the factory.

But worse of all, silence meant to be alone with his thoughts.

It had been that what led Sprout to do the most touch-starved thing with Hitch’s calendar the night prior, then to end up with said stallion in bed. And now that silence had him there, in that kitchen, with all those explicit memories playing on his mind like freaking movie. All while eating these dumb delicious pancakes his dumb boss/foalhood friend/one-night stand/whatever had made for him! Why did Hitch have to let him sleep in and make him breakfast instead of telling him to fuck off his house once he was done using him?!

The coffee on Sprout’s mouth tasted more bitter than it should’ve at that thought. He put the mug down and stared at the liquid. If the situation wasn’t bizarre enough, he’d swore he could see Hitch’s stupid kind smile instead of his reflection.

“Ugh, out of all the stallions…” Sprout grumbled as he scrubbed a hoof across his face.

That was the problem. Those were the thoughts he felt so shitty for today. Hitch hadn’t used him.

He should have. He should’ve been like those stallions mares complained about so much. Those studs who said the most corny things to you all night, then left without a word after giving you your worst hookup story to cry about with your friends. If he had been like that Sprout could hate the thought of being with stallions for the rest of his life, he could face reality and stop the weird thoughts at once.

But no. Hitch just had to go and be great at sex even when it was supposed to be his first time with a stallion, he had to go and be gentle and patient while Sprout was so nervous he ended acting like a timid maiden from those novels his mom liked to watch, and of course he had to go and be so fucking attentive the next morning. It was Hitch! No matter how much Sprout convinced himself a pony as handsome and charming as him would use that privilege to have a wild sex life, at the end of the day his superior was still the same goody two-shoes who in no way would take advantage like that, even if it meant not getting laid for an entire moon.

And if he did happen to want to try that, it would be with a pony he trusted while ensuring no feelings would be hurt, as Hitch himself had explained yesterday.

And despite the calendar situation not being supposed to earn a good reaction, the disastrous everything that was their friendship or whatever was left of it now, Hitch had chosen Sprout for that.

The deputy blushed and took another bite of the pancakes.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t been on the same page as Hitch either. As embarrassing as it was to admit for Sprout, he had reached adulthood a complete virgin because he was..not the most social pony.

He used to be, as a colt when merely being his mother's son was enough to make him interesting, when bringing the latest comics and most expensive toys to school brought other foals his way, when being loud and rough and speaking his mind without a care in the world was deemed as cool. But then every pony grew up, and suddenly all those things that once made him shine would only earn ponies to shrug, roll their eyes or avoid him altogether. Nowadays his social circle was really small, even for a town where everypony knew each other.

Sprout still craved that attention. His mom had assured him he was meant to grow into something big, hence his name and cutie mark — the fact he got the latter while helping his grandpa with his garden had nothing to do with that.

He was the heir of Cantelogic, it was fated for him to be at the top and be the boss who everypony respected. But for that he’d had to wait for the day so far away when his mom didn’t give up halfway while trying to teach him how the whole business thing worked so, in the meantime, being sheriff was an instant way to get all that.

In theory. Now that he had that shiny thing on his sash the treatment towards him didn’t change much, probably because his badge didn’t have a star on it marking his superiority wherever he went like Hitch’s. It made it difficult for Sprout to get the guts to try to get back to his prime when whenever he spoke he was called rude and immature or whatever.

Knowing this, how could he even trust the mares his mom presented to him hoping he’d find love soon enough? Prove nothing was wrong with him for never caring about mares the way he should as a stallion, and give her the grandkids she every so often reminded him she wanted?

So here was the fruit of all that. Sprout in his adulthood without ever having gotten frisky. It was frustrating? A lot, wanting to know what everypony kept talking about, but just…his thoughts not going where they should, with the gender they should.

And it wasn’t like he could nor would ever tell anypony that. Hitch finding out was…an unfortunate accident.

Which had ended on Sprout accepting the really unexpected proposition of sleeping with him.

A stupid decision considering he was supposed to gag at the idea of being with a stallion, and yet he chose the one who would most likely give him a good time. Because yes, Sprout had that stupid idea of his superior being a stud to try and erase those weird thoughts about him from his head, but deep down he knew it couldn't be true. He had known Hitch since they were colts, had stayed by his side even when it wasn’t all fun and games anymore, he knew the least Hitch would be was being a jerk in bed. Sprout unconsciously had had enough common sense to not ruin his first time and had gone with a pony who, despite their relationship being mostly grumbling at each other nowadays, could be trusted.

Just- it was sheriff Hitch freaking Trailblazer, the stallion with that prince charming personality who looked like he was straight out of a model agency, the walking wet dream of many ponies in Maretime Bay. But also it was just Hitch, his foalhood friend who knew secrets like Sprout’s ears being sensitive and still remembered he liked these pancakes, this goody two-shoes that would do anything to keep earning that badge with his stupidly good heart. That stallion just had always been good at making ponies feel safe around him and his deputy was no exception to that.

Was that why Sprout had accepted the proposition? Or was it the desperation to stop being a virgin already? The fact that he wanted to get his weird thoughts out of his system? That it was a once in a lifetime chance? Not even Sprout could figure it out right now, he just knew that he went and did it and now…

There it was, his first time gone just like that. Was it perfect? Not in the slightest, a perfect first time would be with a mare with him on top doing it as traditionally as possible.

The image stirred something on his stomach that was as far as possible to arousal.

Sprout almost choked on the pancake until the flashbacks of last time came to his mind again. Him lying down on the bed with Hitch — a stallion — on top of him, being showered with attention merely by asking for it, being praised just for reacting to what was done to him, and his name being moaned while he was taken…

Sprout gripped the fork as he felt the stirring being replaced by heat all over his body.

“Fuck!” He whined out loud, the sound muffled by the hoof covering his blush. If it was wrong why was he struggling so hard to regret it?

Turning on the tv to get a distraction sounded like a good idea, but before he could look for the remote, he was stopped by sudden chirping and flapping noises coming from the window. Sprout flinched and looked around the room until the thing causing them stopped right over the table.

He pointed at it with the fork in case he had to defend himself, but then just narrowed his eyes as he recognized it as one of those critters that always followed Hitch around. It was the seagull with the tuna can over his head. Did it have a name? No clue, he didn't care anyways. Sprout only remembered it because it was the only one that hadn't tried to attack him at least once yet.

The seagull tilted its head at him. Sprout tilted his head back. Was it…looking for Hitch? Or…did Hitch send it to look for him? Not that he could do that. Sure, for some reason his superior was like a magnet to critters the point of almost getting Sprout's room infested by them during a sleepover once, but he couldn't really order them around, could he?

“What are you looking at? I’m not giving you anything.” Sprout frowned, shielding his almost empty plate with his foreleg.

Obviously, the bird didn't answer, and as the staring contest continued, the deputy began sweating. It couldn't be that the bird was wondering what Sprout was doing at Hitch's house, could it? He was sure he saw some feathers on the bed that morning. That could only mean the birds saw them cuddling and smelling what they did the night prior and-

Sprout finally broke eye contact. Okay, all the sinking in his misery was turning him delusional. Earth ponies could not talk to animals nor the other way around. That sounded like magic and earth ponies with magic was an abomination Sprout hoped he'd never have to witness. Unicorns could probably talk to animals though, since they lived in a muddy forest. If he had to guess he'd say it was via telepathy using their pointy horns.

"Uh, yeah, okay, I’ll just…” Sprout picked up the last pancake and walked downstairs towards the station, wondering why he even was explaining himself to the critter.

The seagull followed close behind, and when Sprout opened the door that led to the sheriff station, the bird flew to reunite with the other critters over the sheriff’s desk — another seagull and that crab that hated Sprout’s guts the most. The three began doing tiny critter gestures at each other, sharing the gossip about what the sheriff and the deputy did last night maybe? Hopefully not.

And then there he was behind his desk, the pony Sprout less wanted to be with right now.

Hitch looked fine and dandy overall. No signs of being tired, his mane perfectly in his place, and even humming a bit to himself. Probably because he had not been the one to take a big cock up his ass twice last night.

Hoof, he'd even say Hitch looked…less stressed? Sprout would feel good about knowing he did that good of a job yesterday if it wasn't for the tiny, tiny fact that it was because of his superior he was walking a lil funny. Sprout should've topped to get to show him who really was boss off the clock.

…though maybe that wouldn't have ended with Hitch unable to work because he got dicked good. Not because Sprout doubted his abilities — that he hadn't ever topped yet didn't mean he wasn't good at it, shut up —, but because Hitch just was something else when it came to stamina. He was Maretime Bay's Junior Cart Pulling champion two years in a row! And he sure had looked ready to go for more than two rounds if Sprout hadn't fainted. It just was difficult to picture himself winning against him at this.

Sprout hadn't been able to picture himself winning against Hitch at anything in moons, to be honest. The popularity in class, competitions at school, the sheriff badge…not even their play fights as colts, not since they grew up and Hitch took all those things away from him.

Yeah, topping would've been too much effort anyways. Besides the whole stamina thing, he would have to make sure Hitch felt good on purpose and…the idea of doing that was uh…Sprout hadn't even dared to touch his cock, for starters. And it wasn't like didn't know how to touch one, he had one! It was just…

Too much for him. Touching another stallion overwhelmed just by thinking about it already.

On the other hoof, by bottoming all Sprout had to do was just lay back and let the other do the work, even get to give an order here and there, which was pretty a comfortable and felt good without having to worry about anything so-

….Shit.

Shit, no, no! He already had to deal with these kinds of intrusive thoughts before thanks to those stupid magazines that showed the bottoms having the time of their lives! Now he would struggle to imagine himself topping after this. If he had to hump a pillow to remind himself what he should really like he'd feel pathetic.

Ugh, definitely Hitch was the last pony he wanted to see right now.

Or that he would've kept thinking if Sprout hadn't noticed who was at the other side of his superior’s desk at that moment.

Correction, Sunny Starscout, the pebble in Sprout and his mom's shoe, she was the pony he least wanted to see right now.

…along with Hitch. Forget choosing, he wanted both of them to disappear from his sight right now.

Sunny’s presence in the station was a common occurrence, shamefully. Either because Hitch kept arresting her for minor crimes he would bail her out of on the same day or hour even, or just because she wanted to visit his friend who shouldn’t be his friend considering he was the sheriff and she a troublemaker. Not to mention the problems she caused affected his deputy directly! She shouldn’t be here.

But here they were once again. It wasn’t like it was the first time Hitch chose another pony over him. What to expect from the stallion who literally got his cutie mark from leaving him to go play with some filly because ‘not allowing fillies to play with them was not kind’? Of course he would end up hanging out with Sunny way more once the group started to split.

The mare stopped talking with Hitch as soon as she heard the door. She blinked when she spotted Sprout, probably guessing where he was coming from considering his damp mane and the pancake he was finishing swallowing.

“Oh, Hi, Sprout.'' Sunny dared to greet him, her head tilted as she looked between the two stallions. “Did you…two have a sleepover?”

Ears perking, Hitch suddenly sat straight and almost scratched with the pen the document he was signing. He didn’t turn around, but Sprout could already guess he was having a crisis over knowing who was in the room now. Or maybe the crisis had to do more with Sunny? Hitch wouldn’t stop glancing between her and Sprout and…wait, was Hitch blushing?

Sprouts squinted at them. For a moment he prayed Hitch hadn’t told her about yesterday, considering she ended up being who he resorted to to talk about his problems instead of Sprout — Sprout had never been good at comforting anyways. But then he remembered Hitch mentioned Sunny was one of the few who knew he was into stallions, so maybe it was something along those lines? Just what? What could Sunny know about her foalhood friends that Sprout didn’t?

Maybe what led Hitch to take such an impulsive decision yesterday, considering what he already mentioned and how she was always trying to understand every pony’s point of view. Whatever, Sprout was not curious and he didn’t care enough to want to know.

“Mind your business,” the deputy answered sharply.

Sprout did not miss hanging out with Sunny. As cool as the lighthouse was, his mom had managed to talk reason into him long ago. The heir of Canterlogic could not get along with a mare who went against everything they stood for. They never really got along to begin with, as foals they spend at least a good part of their games arguing about historical accuracies. Though those also counted as fun for Sprout at least. She used to snap back at him while Hitch didn’t get in the way. Nowadays Sunny just blinked without any intention of continuing the argument while Hitch gave him a look.

Sprout rolled his eyes when this happened again right now. Boring.

“M’am,” he added with a fake grin, trying to mimic Hitch’s kind sheriff tone and failing miserably.

“Paperwork was heavy yesterday,” the sheriff quickly gave a better excuse, though his tone did quiver a bit as well. “So you know…extra hours, then it got too late and…”

“Oh, that makes sense.” Sunny nodded. “Things do get busy this time of the moon.”

“You make them busy,” Sprout snapped again, his hoof pointing at the glitter falling off her purse, which they all already knew what it would be used for.

Sunny just chuckled and shook her head, her magenta braid following the movement. “I’m just preparing everything to deliver my smoothies on the grand day like I promised! You don’t have to worry about it.”

To her big, innocent grin, the stallions exchanged looks. They already knew this game of hers. Every moon it was the same even before Sprout took Hitch’s place as deputy.

“Sunny-” Hitch started.

“I swear I’m not planning anything-” she interrupted.

With a huff Sprout walked towards his desk, not wanting to hear them anymore. That dreadful magazine had already been stored back in place by Hitch, so that only left the deputy to organize the mess that was his workspace. He didn’t usually tidy up no matter how much Hitch insisted on avoiding litter, but today he needed a distraction.

A failed attempt at negotiation later, Sunny put on back her rollers and helmet and said her goodbyes, but not without leaving a smoothie on both desks respectively.

Sprout arched a brow as the tropical smell reached him. It was multifruit, which meant Sunny still remembered his favorite flavor. Of course she did, ugh. He had loved her smoothies ever since that one evening she used Hitch and Sprout as guinea pigs to try her weird recipes as foals, and he was an usual client of her cart even if he didn’t like to chat with her precisely too. But…he didn’t order any smoothies today?

While inspecting the drink, he finally took a seat behind his desk, wincing as his flank made contact with the chair. He had forgotten Hitch had left him sore, great. By mere instinct, the memories made Sprout’s hoof reach for his neck. The bite mark was almost gone and hidden well underneath his red fur, but still it was there to remind him of the events for at least a couple days more.

When he looked up, he noticed Hitch observing him from his desk, wincing a bit at Sprout’s reactions. His own smoothie remained untouched and was being drinked by the critters instead.

And then it dawned on Sprout. He was alone with the stallion he had slept with last night.

Both were probably thinking a glass of that citric vodka Hitch had hidden in the cabinets would be really good right now.

But it was the middle of the day, and Sprout would get a no to that probably, so he’d have to forget about that. There were other problems now. Like how, judging by his reaction, Hitch was overthinking the whole thing as well, and that could only mean things were gonna spiral downhill from here.

Or so Sprout thought, he still wasn’t sure how Hitch felt about what they did, why he had chosen his deputy out of all the ponies. Sure, he had said it was because they had known each other for a while now, and Sprout had clearly shown interest with the calendar, but uh…did Hitch consider him attractive then? He wasn’t joking when he complimented his looks at school? Or maybe it was as simple as him wanting to be with a stallion and Sprout just happening to be at the right place and time?

The last one made sense considering Hitch didn't really know that many stallions. He had always gotten along with mares better, and nowadays Sprout was the only stallion he actively talked to. But…no, he doubted Hitch only chose him because he had a cock, that didn't sound like Hitch. So why then?

Again, Sprout tried to ignore those thoughts. What he did know was that at least Hitch felt guilty for overwhelming him with the extra round, hence the pancakes and the smoothie or letting him eat at the office. Hitch had always allowed him to eat there actually, but not without grumbling about the station smelling like a restaurant because of Sprout’s many deliveries — ironic since Hitch still would end up picking one or two fries for himself, because that was another thing they had in common, they loved food.

This time though? His superior was quiet and it was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

“So…how’s your morning going?'' Hitch finally broke the silence, leaving the paperwork aside to focus on his deputy.

Sprout didn’t meet his gaze as he gave the first sip to his smoothie. “Had worse.”

Hitch winced again, then scratched the back of his neck as he struggled to make eye contact now that the topic was being addressed. “I called your mom to tell her you spent the night here yesterday, so…don’t worry about that.”

Sprout almost spat his drink all over the table. He forgot about telling his mom! Ugh, how was he even going to face her after what he did-?!

Besides some coughing, he managed to keep a sort of calm reaction. He tried to not think too much of all the excuses he would have to make back home to keep this event hidden underground for the rest of his life. He was not good at lying, this was bad. At least Hitch did save him the trouble of having to call her first.

“Oh, uh…thanks,” Sprout answered hoarsely.

He didn’t meet Hitch’s gaze again after that. His conversations with him usually worked like that for Sprout. A short answer that went to the point. Not too friendly to avoid excessive talking, and not aggressive enough to earn scolding. The latter was the main reason Sprout didn’t really like to talk to Hitch on the clock. When your friend was your boss, most talks ended up being about work. And when said friend was too dedicated to that job, Sprout ended up hearing lots of ‘this is a job for Hitch only’, ‘would you let me do my job’ and ugh, so many instructions!

He was lucky Hitch had stopped being so insistent with ‘keeping him in line’ after the first months of him taking over as deputy. Sprout much rather preferred to work at his own rhythm. Good thing he always had great excuses under his sash.

Leaving the drink aside and looking into the drawer of his desk, Sprout found some documents to take care of and began working away. For once he was doing this without being insisted on, he could no longer bear dealing with his own brain today.

His superior seemed to notice this attempt to avoid him and Sprout gripped the pen a little. He hated when Hitch only bothered to notice his bad mood when Sprout didn’t want to talk about it. Like yesterday, figuring him out like a fucking open book when most of the time he didn’t even look his way.

“No problem...” Hitch muttered.

The sheriff paused for a moment, staring at the door. When no movement was made outside, still being too early for ponies to arrive at the station with things to report, Hitch made the worst choice he could do against his deputy now. He left his desk and walked towards Sprout’s to talk.

“But are you okay?” Hitch asked, some doubt in his voice. “you didn’t have to keep going if you couldn't handle more.”

It took all of Sprout’s will to not glare as he looked up from his paperwork.

Hitch was standing there, his posture straight and confident, yet his forehooves together over the floor in that nervous gesture he did as a colt when an adult would scold him for getting in trouble— usually because he had followed one of Sprout and Sunny’s crazy ideas for a game and things ended wrong. And ugh- He was making that slight frown with those eyes that were constantly trying to see past his words, he had that one the whole night yesterday! And now it was here again because the idiot was worried about him.

But Sprout knew better. Hitch was not worried about his well-being. He was worried about having hurted Sprout because he considered him weak.

It was no longer something he suspected. Sprout had overheard him once talking to a nurse after an incident at work. A joke about how ‘his deputy would be fine because he whined about mere papercuts since he was a colt’. Or something like that, the memory was fuzzy, but he got the overall message clear.

Yeah, it was true Sprout was sensitive and tended to be a bit dramatic with cuts, and yeah, that one time it had just been a scraped knee and he was treating it as if he'd lost his foreleg. A filly in the waiting room had a cast on her hindleg and was probably mocking him by being quiet on purpose so Sprout would look ridiculous as a grown stallion at the verge of tears beside her. He only forgave her because she told him the nurse would give him a lollipop later. That was nice, not his superior taking him to the hospital only to laugh at his back.

That wasn't the first time Hitch had treated him like that way. That was what Sprout hated, he was naturally kind, but with Sprout that kindness had started feeling condescending in the past moons and that sucked. It sucked to know the stallion everypony liked because he was oh-so-nice only treated him that way, to never be able to appreciate somepony was treating him nicely for once because he knew he was actually being looked down at. And why was what? Because Hitch no longer liked him but didn't have the heart to tell him? Because he was not as good of a deputy as Hitch used to be? Did he pity him? Who knew! Not Sprout certainly. Not like they were honest with each other anymore. Not entirely a least, if yesterday was anything to go by.

That was why Sprout hadn't said something to stop the second round. Last night Hitch did notice his deputy was exhausted and asked if he was okay, and Sprout insisted that ‘yes for fuck’s sake keep going’ while praying to the stars his lungs did not give up halfway and he died there, with a cock buried inside him. Because of course Hitch could last more than one round, and Sprout refused to be left behind and be considered a loser who couldn't last in bed.

But as his superior had said, sex was like exercise, and the night had ended like their gym classes in school. Hitch ended up in first place at whatever sport they played, and Sprout at the nursery on the verge of cardiac arrest because he had tried to win against his friend in vain. Not to mention Hitch being the one who took him to the nursery while carrying his first place ribbon too. What a show-off.

Those things made it difficult not to suspect Sprout was kept around to make Hitch look better. His superior had his moments of clumsiness, was a doofus behind the sheriff facade, but that was easier to hide if you had somepony who was even clumsier by your side. Like in those comics they used to read together as colts. There was no great hero without a not-as-great sidekick following close by.

As colts, Sprout considered he was the hero and Hitch the sidekick. Hitch used to object saying both were heroes in their own way. And oh, how ironic, not only did the roles get reversed in their adulthood, but his superior certainly did not treat him as an equal at all.

Hitch had always shined as bright as his badge, always galloping on a path with not a single obstacle ahead. And not even once did he look behind to see, notice his friend and deputy struggling to catch up. Or in the rare cases he did, Sprout felt he was treated as a burden to carry.

You know what? Fuck Hitch. Not as in having sex. Fuck him as in fuck him.

“I’m fine.” Sprout answered instead, his teeth gritted to hold back saying those two words that would get him fired instantly.

He also held back from telling the critters that had followed Hitch to leave as well because this was a private conversation, thank you.

The sheriff frowned a bit, tilted his head and just observed, as if waiting for any sign his deputy was in pain. Sprout was, but it was a soreness he could ignore if the idiot just stopped reminding him of it.

When no whining came, Hitch spoke up again. “Well,if you need a day off just in case...”

Sprout’s ears perked up, then lowered as he narrowed his eyes. “Didn’t I use all my days off already?”

“You'll get another one. Consider it a bonus for keeping an eye on Sunny during Canterlogic's Annual Show ”

“Sweet!” Sprout found himself grinning despite himself. “…When did I do that again?”

“You will do that, in a couple weeks when she tries to do…well, what she always does when it comes to unicorns and pegasi.” Hitch sighed. “I'll be outside the factory checking everything is in order before the show begins, and that's where you, deputy, come in.”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, I'm the deputy, so of course I gotta…do…that thing…deputies do…” Sprout nodded slowly as Hitch pointed at him, still grinning, but actually having no idea what his superior was hinting at.

Hitch seemed to see past his act, because he lowered his hoof and sighed again. “You'll make sure to stop Sunny before she tries to sneak into Canterlogic this time.”

“Oooh, right, right, right, chasing after Sunny, got it.” Sprout's grin faltered as soon as his brain registered his own words.

That was Hitch's task. It had always been since Hitch got named deputy a few moons ago.

Back then Sprout could just see Hitch living his dream while his mom taught him everything he had to know about Canterlogic. And he had seen it during the Annual shows. Sunny would always find a way to sneak into the factory and Hitch — who was psychically fit and even then struggled to follow her pace — had to chase her around until finally she was out, but not without messing up with at least one of their products.

That was a thing that never happened with Mr. Starshine. Sure, Sunny got that dangerous mentality of unicorns and pegasi being good from him, but the older stallion kept his protests pacific and outside the factory without really causing trouble. His daughter, on the other hoof, was a ball of energy that Sprout never wished to have to deal with directly in the future when he inherited the family business, or during the annual shows in the time being.

And now that was exactly what Hitch was asking him to do. Him! Hitch was the one supposed to deal with the heavy stuff. Sprout's job was mostly following the sheriff around, doing paperwork and maybe helping an old mare get her kitten off a tree or a foal find their mom at the other side of the park. Boring stuff he barely paid attention to because Hitch got on the way to do it himself most of the time anyways. Dealing with Sunny was not something Sprout could nor wanted to do. He already had enough having to remove her dumb unicorn and pegasi stickers around town.

Sprout didn't notice himself groaning out loud until it was too late. He tossed the pen over the desk and sinked on his chair, forelegs crossed and wincing a bit as his muscles complained.

Hitch arched a brow, but didn't seem surprised with his reaction.

“The tough stuff happens inside Canterlogic, It's not that hard when she's on her way, even you will able to catch her before she gets there.” Hitch tried to reassure him, and Sprout squinted as his superior didn’t even notice his own condescending tone again.

Hitch did notice his wince though, which brought back the main topic.

“So if you want to take that day off today, you can,” the sheriff continued, glancing at the backdoor that led to his home upstairs, a blush tainting his cheeks as he probably was remembering why they were talking about this to begin with, “I'll even let you take extra pancakes home if that…helps.”

“…”

“...You ate them all, didn’t you?”

“The note didn’t say how many I could eat.”

And with that last attempt at playing dumb, Sprout reached for his smoothie to take a loud and long sip from it, considering the conversation finished.

It felt almost normal, just them talking about work, a dumb comment here, a deadpan expression there, and all done. For a moment Sprout enjoyed returning to the routine they had before yesterday happened. There was nothing to fear when you knew something like the back of your hoof, as annoying as that thing could be at times.

And then, just as he stood up to walk towards the door, Hitch had to keep talking and drag him into unknown territory again.

“Okay, but then are we…are you good? With figuring things out?” Hitch hesitated as he gave a step forward to follow him. “The…second round wasn't traumatic? Since you seem a little sore and...with that being your first time and all, I mean.”

Sprout got really tempted to slam his own forehead hard against the wall to knock himself out and avoid this conversation. Hitch kept pressing the issue, kept being worried and Sprout could just imagine him yesterday. Him over Sprout’s knocked out body, wondering if finally he had done it, if he had just killed somepony with his cock.

And it was a unique chance. Sprout could do it now, he could lie and tell Hitch that yes, the sex was bad and he had ruined his first time just to make him feel awful and erase that stupid cocky grin of his face whenever he was in his presence. But Sprout knew him enough to guess that would only result in the idiot wanting to make up for doing such a horrible thing and no, Sprout just wanted this whole event shoved under dirt to never be spoken of again.

Stopping near the door and taking a deep breath, the red stallion tried to convey all his thoughts of last night into a few words, ones that assured Hitch would stop feeling like he had broken something, but that did not make it sound like Sprout had an otherworldly experience yesterday either — which he actually did, but he wouldn't ever say that out loud.

“You see when you finally get to eat your favorite food and at some moment your stomach just can't fit more? But don't want to stop eating because it tastes too good, so you just keep going even when you know your stomach will feel like crap the next day?” He tried to explain. “Considering that happens to me often with pizza, and yet you see I keep ordering the biggest box, I think you get the methaph-”

Just as he was about to finish his speech, Sprout remembered his smoothie over the desk and turned around to pick it up. A horrible choice, because he hadn’t noticed Hitch had stepped forward, and so neither of them could avoid this from happening.

They were now chest to chest, nose to nose, not quite touching but almost there. Their eyes met. They remained in silence, just staring, knowing one tiny movement could only send the already awkward situation spiraling out of control again.

This had happened before. Twice last night they had gotten this close. It didn’t end in anything, so it shouldn’t really make Sprout’s heart skip a beat. But it did, because something was different now. There were no metallic bars between them, no ‘after sex’ feeling that served as an excuse for intimacy. A wall was lacking now.

Sprout had imagined this situation, more than once. When he felt lonely, when he wondered what kissing felt like but could not get himself to picture it with a mare without feeling something was wrong. He’d refuse to think of a stallion at all cost, but then Hitch would show up in his mind and suddenly it wasn’t as scary. It was comforting even, added a familiar feeling to an otherwise unknown situation.

It was stupid how something as innocent as a kiss always made Sprout feel worse than imagining the dirtier stuff. But that was the thing, sex could be considered dirty, could be imagined as something done merely to meet a physical need. A mere kiss was not a big deal. But wanting- wishing to kiss another pony without it escalating into something far from innocent…that may have a deeper meaning Sprout refused to think about.

Too long passed until Sprout noticed neither of them were doing anything. He cursed internally, yelling at himself in his brain, at Hitch, at both for not making a move either to avoid or make the situation happen already.

Then there was a tiny movement, their muzzles coming a millimeter near. He didn’t know who was the one dumb enough to step forward, maybe both. Hitch glanced at his lips. Sprout glanced at Hitch’s. Slowly, they began breathing again, just now noticing they had stopped doing that at some moment.

Their chests brushed together, the fur touching causing a tiny lighting strike.

That made Sprout finally come back to his senses, about what was happening and what he had just said, what he was about to do. He stepped back in a rush, almost tripping on the way as his face turned a darker shade of red.

“N-Not that you’re my favorite food or that you taste good or that I’m planning to do this again o-or anything, of course not! I-” Sprout laughed awkwardly between words as he kept walking backwards, only feeling himself digging his own grave more and more.

His superior just stared, still unmoving, his expression slowly turning into one Sprout couldn’t — didn’t want to —figure out, not past the fact he looked deep in thought and there was the tiniest shade of red forming on his cheeks the more Sprout talked.

Then Hitch opened his mouth, giving a step towards him, and Sprout decided right away he needed to leave. Now.

“Oookaygoodtalkbye!” The blurted out words were understable enough, and somehow Sprout didn’t knock over his desk while rushing to get his smoothie back.

Then he ran to the door, again stumbling upon — or rather slamming against — Hitch’s handsome fac,e but this time in the form of his stupid calendar that had started this whole mess. Sprout had to hold his muzzle hoping it wasn’t bleeding, but finally, he managed to step outside and close the door behind him.

Sprout remained there in the outside world, his muzzle in pain, the smoothie miraculously still intact on his hoof, and his back pretty much stuck to the door. Between his ragged breathing, he managed to hear Hitch saying something along the lines of ‘Hey, don't look at me like that’ to his critters inside the station, and all the deputy wanted to do was scream.

But he couldn’t. He was in public, and was already getting a few weird looks just from leaving the sheriff station like that, so Sprout just accommodated his mane and sash and began walking around Mane Street to pretend all was normal.

No pony really paid attention to the deputy on the rare occasions he happened to patrol alone, so this shouldn’t really feel different. Not because he wasn’t patrolling this time since it was his day off, but because, for some reason, he felt observed even though no eyes were really on him. He thought that thing about feeling like everypony knew when you first had sex was an exaggeration, but now he was starting to think it was true.

After some walking, Sprout sat down on the nearest bench to finish his smoothie. He looked around. The day was nice, the air smelt of the pastries from the bakeries opening near by, ponies were out without being noisy, and he didn’t have anything to do but enjoy his favorite smoothie in peace and quiet.

Peace and quiet was the least he needed right now. The silence was making him think more than ever today and he hated it.

Now not only Sprout wouldn't stop remembering last night, but now there were also his thoughts about Hitch and the almost kiss that shouldn’t affect him this much. He shouldn’t care! He shouldn’t be wondering why Hitch had not moved away all those times they got so close, or why the idiot blushed or what he was about to tell him before Sprout ran away-

It was just sex.

Yesterday was just sex. Sure, they knew each other from long ago. Sure, that made them trust each other just enough to do that despite all their bickering. And sure, it ended well, great even. But at the end of the day it had been just that, a one-night stand, sex, something to satiate a physical need without any emotional crap in the middle. Sprout knew that and Hitch did too.

That had been set clear the moment he rejected him.

Okay, no, Hitch didn’t reject him, because Sprout did not confess his love or something like that. What happened was that Hitch clarified that what happened at his bathroom all those moons ago were just hormones. The idiot had no other male friends and decided to drag Sprout along on the emotional rollercoaster.

And now here was Sprout, his thoughts he had been keeping buried underground for so long fighting to leave the coffin.

He was wondering how it was to kiss Hitch, what if he had dared to touch him yesterday, what his foalhood friend really thought about him…and then Sprout remembered he shouldn’t think those things. He did not like stallions, he was not gay and couldn’t be. He couldn’t do that to his mom, to what she had built from the ground with so much effort, to himself by complicating his life even more by adding yet another thing that made him end up alone. He was not Hitch. He was not so popular and loved he’d be accepted just like that.

But that didn’t matter. At the end of the day, Sprout didn’t have that problem. He was a stallion who liked mares, and would get married and have grandkids and be sheriff and later CEO of Canterlogic like he was supposed to.

He finished the content of his smoothie just in time not to feel it tasting bitter at some of those thoughts.

A flash of wind almost knocked over his empty vase then. Sprout was about to yell at the dumbass to watch it before noticing it had been Sunny on her rollers, just having finished delivering smoothies and returning to her cart.

Then there was another odd thought. He considered walking towards her to ask her what she knew about Hitch, about why the blushing sheriff looked like he had told her something about Sprout. He wondered if she would tell him since she was as stupidly good as Hitch despite how her relationship to Sprout was just as bad. If she sensed emotional trouble, she’d try to help.

And finally, Sprout wondered if not today, if one day in the future he’d know instead of living with those doubts at the back of his mind. Because he would never ask Hitch what he really thought about him, he would never dare to unbury what should be dead on purpose.

But then he thought about that last sentence, and he agreed with himself. Some things were better buried underground.

His gaze went from her cart to the old lighthouse far away, then to Cantelogic at the opposite side of town. That reminded him of the here and now. He was a deputy, and he had been tasked with stopping her before she got to Canterlogic on the Annual Show. A one-night stand was the least of his problems. It had to be, because at this rate if he kept thinking about it he would get a boner in public and that wouldn’t be good at all.

And so Sprout tossed his empty vase on the nearest trash can, hearing it land on the floor instead but not caring enough to pick it up, and stood up to make his way to Cantelogic.

Was it a good idea after he left his mom worried yesterday? No, but he'd put up with her scolding him if it meant getting the town’s map he needed to trace the route he’d have to take to chase after Sunny on the grand day

It was perfect. This was the perfect excuse to make himself stop thinking. If he focused on work, on his first important mission, he wouldn’t have to think about the badge, the calendar, those hooves touching him, or Hitch and his stupid big cock and-

…Ugh, that would be more difficult than he thought.

As Sprout kept walking, he noticed Hitch leaving the station, looking a little distracted himself. Sprout hoof reached for the bitten spot on his neck, and deep down he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he wasn’t the only one thinking about this way too much as well.

And if maybe, maybe this would really affect them in the long run.

But that was a problem for his future self.

Author's Note

Final chapter is here! Super sorry for the wait, exams were tough :’) but I finished it yay me. Thank you really much for reading and your kind comments so far ♥

I know not everyone bothers to read the ‘the morning after’ part of smut stories, but I wanted to show Sprout’s pov about the whole thing, plus explore their dynamic pre-movie a little more heh. This chapter was longer actually, but I cut a bunch of paragraphs that delved into Spout’s ex-friendship with Sunny and his reasoning to later become power-hungry in the movie and such. Always up for exploring Sprout’s character, but that part wasn’t really what this fic was about so ye

and I know open endings are not the most popular, and I apologize if some expected these two to end up dating and married and stuff on this last chapter, but that was never the route I was going for when I started this fic ^^;

Why give this name to this chapter then? Besides of being yet another reference to the song 'Bite' by Troye Sivan, that’s kinda the metaphor, both deny adressing the elephant in the room, there’s no kiss, and so none are free from the problem. I believe Hitch and Sprout’s friendship has A TON of issues they need to work on first before it can turn into a healthy relationship, and their pre-movie selves are not willing to do that just yet. This story was mostly focused on creating tension and as set-up for these two to get together in the future(and yes I wanted to create smut with their old dynamic too). I DO however have ideas for a sequel to this story, one that takes place after Make Your Mark and where these two fix their friendship and finally confess and finally release all the tension in a really feelings-charged smut scene.

But that’s just an idea for now, I’m not really sure if I should leave this fic as a stand alone or if a sequel would be good, you guys can tell me your thoughts about that.