The roar of the crowd subsided as the two Wonderbolts made their way down the stairs, away from the arena. It was a hell of an encore, really. While the others had already gone to the locker room, both Spitfire and Soarin had stayed to give the spectators a proper send-off. An additional five minutes of loops and tricks, with their final stunt making its debut. It was difficult to pull off the double-helix, staying in a perfectly looped descent while simultaneously staying back-to-back with your flying partner. But they had done it, and judging by the cheers, they had done it well.
Soarin felt light-headed from all the adrenaline still coursing through his blood, his limbs tense and shaky. His wings ached like mad. Spitfire seemed perfectly calm, but she had always been a better actor than him. He followed her down the dim hallway, rounding the corner to where the locker room waited. A guard stood at the door, making sure that no crazed groupies would burst into the room while their idols were undressing. This room was Wonderbolts-only.
The guard acknowledged them with a nod, turning to unlock the door. Spitfire entered first, holding the door for her partner. Soarin gave the guard a half-hearted salute, which ended up as more of a wave than anything. He didn't seem to mind, giving another nod. Satisfied, Soarin stepped into the humid room, realizing the others must have already showered and left. They sure were quick.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door closing, followed by a muffled thud as Spitfire slumped against the door. She let out a long breath, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor.
"Well," she said after a moment, "that sucked."
Soarin grinned at her. "Speak for yourself. They seemed to think I did okay." He ducked as Spitfire's goggles whizzed by his head.
"Ah, shaddup." She lifted herself off the floor, almost limping over to a bench. "Man, my wings feel like they're on fire. No name puns," she swiftly added, catching Soarin just as he was about to comment. He closed his mouth, opting for an arched eyebrow instead.
"Couldn't help but notice," he said, turning to his locker, "that there was a bit of extra room to my right on that last loop."
Spitfire sighed, then raised her head and stood up.
"Yeah," she said flatly, earning another look from her partner. "I'm not so proud I won't admit it, I fucked up a bit there." She stretched her arms, trying to loosen up. "But I'm pretty sure you're the only one who knows that."
"The others might notice if it happens again, though," Soarin replied, still looking in the opposite direction.
"It's not going to happen again, and I'm pretty sure the others aren't going to find out about this time either."
"And what makes you so sure of that?"
"Because you're definitely not going to tell them." Spitfire began to walk toward him, slowly. He didn't notice.
"I don't think you're allowed to threaten your teammates, Spits," he said, chuckling as he grabbed his towel off its hanger.
There was a short pause, then Soarin felt a hand on his shoulder. Before he could turn, he heard a low whisper from behind him.
"It wasn't a threat."
He looked around, the sound of a zipper reaching his ears.
There was Spitfire, looking at him with a mischievous smile on her face. His eyes moved down, watching as she ever-so-slowly pulled down the zipper of her flight suit. First her collar came into view, then the tops of her breasts. She stopped, giving Soarin a peek at her cleavage. After a second, he looked up at her.
"Right now?" he asked, a skeptical grin tugging at his mouth. "I mean, we aren't even out of our suits yet."
"I know."
"Usually we wait until we're at least in a different building before-"
"I know," she interrupted him, raising her eyebrows and smiling.
"I…" Soarin tried to respond, but couldn't think of anything to say. Spitfire hushed him with a finger.
"I know."
After a second, Soarin nodded. It was all the response she needed.
She grabbed the zipper again, pulling it down further, until it was halfway down her torso. She stopped again, but this time reached up and pulled the top of the suit open, exposing her breasts fully. For a moment, Soarin just stared. But only for a moment.
Before she could do anything else, he fell upon her breasts, kissing and fondling them. Spitfire closed her eyes as he massaged the soft flesh, the gentle brush of his lips sending shivers through her body. It was always the first thing he did, and she didn't mind at all.
He pulled her zipper a bit lower, giving himself room. She bit her bottom lip as he began to suck on her nipple, his nose pushing into her skin. She glanced down at him for a brief moment, eyes closed, mouth pressed against her breast, before closing her eyes again. She could feel his tongue squeezing her nipple against the roof of his mouth. For her, this was the sensual equivalent of full-on sex; Soarin held one of the more sensitive parts of her body inside his own, and they gained mutual pleasure from the experience.
After a minute, Soarin stopped sucking, instead licking roughly over her entire areola. He massaged it with his tongue, feeling the contrast between her erect nipple and the soft skin surrounding it. He loved playing with Spitfire's breasts. It wasn't entirely sexual, but still gave him that erotic rush. He especially loved how such a simple action could elicit those same feelings in her.
Not wanting to overstay his welcome, he gave her nipple one last lick before pulling the zipper down further. She lay back on the bench, not caring that her tail and wings were trapped against the hard surface. He kissed the underside of her breasts, then down her belly, following the opening in her suit as it moved lower. He slowed as he passed her waist, deciding it was his turn to tease her. Bit by bit, her vulva came into view, before finally being fully revealed. It was immediately obvious that she was already aroused, a slight damp patch on the suit's crotch padding being the most obvious sign. It suddenly brought to his attention his own arousal, straining at his suit as he sat there.
Soarin looked up into Spitfire's eyes. She gazed back, her expression begging for him to just do it. She had started to fondle her own breasts, making up for the absence of his hands. After a second of eye contact, he finally caved to her silent pleading.
Soarin slid his tongue along the lips of her vagina, gently spreading them. She tensed at the sudden contact, only relaxing once he withdrew. Again he gave her a gentle lick, and again her muscles clenched. He began to push slightly deeper, the taste of sex filling his mouth. After a few more pushes and flicks of his tongue, he picked his head up and crawled over top of Spitfire, bringing them face-to face again.
Before he had a chance to lick his lips clean, she grabbed his head and kissed him, catching him off-guard. She must have realized I still had her… stuff on my mouth, he thought, his brain emerging from its fog for a brief moment, unless…
Finally, Spitfire broke the kiss, licking her lips and shooting him a knowing smile. Soarin stared blankly for a second, and it dawned on him what had just happened. And how incredibly hot it had been. He leaned in for another kiss, but she was faster. Wedging her arms between them, she pushed him off of her. He got to his feet and stood there, confused. Sitting up, she grabbed his hand and pulled him down to the bench again, switching places. Now he was sitting on the edge, and she was standing before him, her intimate parts fully visible.
He began to ask what she was doing, but she hushed him again.
"No talking." He nodded.
She rested a hand on his shoulder, and the other on his head. Gently, she pulled him to her chest, his face nestling between her breasts again. He inhaled deeply as she began to rub his shoulder, her hand moving up his neck, then down again, then along his collar, and then…
She grabbed the zipper of his suit and began to pull it down, as he had done for her, but with none of the slow teasing. No stops along the way. He pulled his face away, and within seconds she had passed his chest, stomach, and waist. With a final tug, the zipper slipped over the padding, which was thicker on the males' suits by necessity.
Soarin's penis, freed from the tight confines of the outfit, filled with even more blood, growing longer and harder. Spitfire's fingers immediately encircled it, squeezing and rubbing slightly. He moaned, unable to stop himself at the sudden contact. Spitfire smiled, waiting for him to open his eyes.
As soon as he looked down at her, she ducked her head down and brought her tongue up the underside of his shaft. He moaned again, gripping the bench as hard as possible and trying to contain himself. To lose control now would not be good. But Spitfire wasn't making it easy. She had begin kissing the head of his penis, sucking lightly at the tip. And then, without warning, she slid it into her mouth.
Soarin could've come right then, but he held back by the slimmest of margins. Her tongue was squeezing his shaft against her mouth, a sexual parallel that, in his current state, did not occur to him. All he knew was the inside of her mouth, and how good it felt.
Like his oral ministrations, however, this did not last long either. After a few quick bobs of her head, Spitfire let his penis slide from her mouth. A few seconds later, he relaxed, having spent all his concentration on holding back his orgasm. He took a deep breath and looked at her, hoping that she was ready too. Only then did he notice her pulling her hand up from between her legs, fingers damp. Oh yes, she was ready.
Taking the lead again, Soarin stood, pulling Spitfire up with him. They embraced briefly, then Spitfire walked around him and crawled onto the bench. On all fours, she presented herself to him, legs spread.
Wasting no time, he brushed her tail aside, unzipping her suit almost all the way. Placing a hands on her bum, he guided his penis to her waiting vulva. No sooner did he feel her lips brush his head than he plunged deep into her, as deep as he could go. There was no need to ease into it, or go slowly. This was not the first time they had had sex, nor would it be the last, and Soarin knew what she could take. He knew what she wanted. The intimacy was nice, but now the foreplay was over. After the buildup, she didn't want slow. She didn't want gentle. She wanted hard, she wanted fast. They had already made love, and now she wanted to be fucked. Who was he to say no?
Spitfire's moans filled the room as he filled her again and again, thrusting so hard that she rocked back and forth. Her breasts were hanging underneath her, jiggling with the motion. Her wings extended, nearly opening to their full span. Soarin's hands ventured past her hips, resting on her sides. Gripping her was unnecessary. Every time he thrusted, she rocked herself into him, driving him hard. All he needed was a guide.
Suddenly, he pulled himself free, halting the action. She wiggled her hips expectantly, letting out a whine at the sudden emptiness. But he had decided something. He grabbed her leg and hip, pulling her over onto her side, then rolling her onto her back again. She gave no resistance, but an expression of slight annoyance crossed her face.
"What are-" she began, but he put two fingers over her mouth, silencing her as she had silenced him before.
"I want to look into your eyes when you come."
For a moment, they just stared at each other. Then Spitfire smiled, nodded, and spread her legs.
Soarin got down on his knees, and slid into her once more. He lifted her leg and, using it as leverage, began to fuck her hard again. And, true to his word, his eyes never left her face. He could've watched his penis pounding into her. He could've watched her breasts shaking with each thrust. But what held his attention was the look of pure bliss on Spitfire's face. A dull smile graced her cheeks, her tongue lolling out from between her lips, her eyes hooded. Her body wasn't wasting any energy on her expression. All its energy was focused on sex.
And yet, he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was.
Soarin came hard. Mid-thrust, he felt his defenses shatter. He could feel the pressure, and pushed himself deep into Spitfire. Within moments, he was filling her with his semen as wave after wave of warmth spread over him. His eyes scrunched shut involuntarily as his entire body tensed, his muscles holding fast for several seconds before finally relaxing. Head spinning, he tried to catch his breath. He opened his eyes in time to see Spitfire's face contorted like his was, and he suddenly became aware of how her muscles were clenching too. She had hit her peak mere seconds after he had. He watched as her orgasm subsided and she, too, opened her eyes. Their gaze met, and there was an unspoken agreement; face-to-face from now on.
Soarin pulled free, and after a few seconds helped Spitfire to her feet. She smiled and placed a hand over her vulva, keeping his seed from dripping out. With another kiss, he helped her undress fully before stripping his own suit off.
They showered together, washing away all the sweat from their sex as well as from the show. They hugged, kissed, and cleaned each other, taking great care when handling the other's wings. The intimacy continued as she kissed his face and neck and he fondled her breasts again, but it was short-lived. Before long they stepped out and dressed in their official uniforms, leaving their flight suits in their lockers.
Gathering his wits, Soarin gave Spitfire another quick kiss before they stepped out into the hallway again.
As they walked towards the main entry of the arena, he stole a quick glance over at her. Her face showed no emotion. Even after that, she had to put up a stoic front as the Wonderbolts' captain. But her facade broke slightly as she noticed him looking and gave him a quick smile.
Walking down the steps, throngs of excited spectators, held back by makeshift rope fences and guards, screamed and cheered at them. The two acrobats acknowledged them with nods or waves, and a few salutes for the awestruck youngsters.
Neither gave any indication of what had happened not twenty minutes previous. This was, after all, part of the show, and no relationships could ever be allowed to get in the way of what they do.
But both of them knew.
Their best performances would never have an audience.
Author's Note
Inspired by this artwork by Siden.
(I really don't know what I'm doing.)