Stormy (Part 2)

There he was, sitting bored in a class that held no particular interest to him. This was White Mane’s life and it was passing him by one minute at a time.

Today, while his professor raved about the works of some long dead poet he could care less about, White Mane found his attention drawn away from the classroom, the discussion and the stifling, lecture hall that he inhabited, and out the window which overlooked the main courtyard at Camden.

Outside the window there was a tall oak tree and, attached to an otherwise uninteresting branch were a pair of mating chestnut squirrels. White Mane watched the two animals go at it and found a sense of comradery with nature. Particularly, he enjoyed how the male--the larger of the two--protected the female’s body with his own.

His mind drifted while he watched this live spectacle of nature unfold. He imagined himself laying in the shade of the tree. Seated comfortably in Brawny Brawler’s lap, with the older colt’s muscular hooves wrapped around his waist. Brawny, taking romantic nibbles at the tips of his ears. White mane giggling at this, then leaning his head backwards to catch Brawny by surprise with a gentle, delicate kiss.

“... wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Mane?”

Startled back to reality by the sound of his professor’s commanding voice, White Mane felt his spirits sink and panic overtake him as dozens of pairs of eyes suddenly fell on him.

Two squirrels mating. His crush on Brawny Brawler. Brawny’s resentment towards him. Where had he let his mind take him this time?

“I...agree, sir.” He replied cheerfully.

“You agree that Shakes Spear’s death was necessary for his advancement as an iconic figure in popular culture?” His professor asked with curious intent playing in his voice.

White Mane swallowed a lump in his throat. He could hear a few snickers come from the crowd as the stares grew more and more militant by the second.

“Um...well, yes.” he mumbled. “Because...in death...a colt...or mare, achieves a sense of...cult status...”

He had Cosmare’s ‘Ten Great Colts and Mares We Lost This Year.’ article to thank for the words that had just come out of his mouth.

“That’s...quite the opinion, Mr. Mane.” His professor beamed. “Could we gather than that had Shakes Spear been born in our generation, his work would instead be overlooked? And that his death was the proponent which fueled his popularity?”

“Sir?” A hoof shot up along with a second voice in what was soon to become a raging battle of opinions. White Mane stared at the colt attached to that hoof: Cobalt Thunder, a freshman, like himself, who he was somewhat friendly with. Cobalt was a bit of an egghead, so his intervention would be grounded more in well researched facts that would get White Mane off the hook.

“Yes, Mr. Thunder?”

“I disagree with White Mane’s opinion.” Cobalt began. His statement caused an uproar in the class, and White Mane seized his chance to sink into his seat and let Cobalt steal the spotlight from him.

Suddenly, White Mane couldn’t wait to get back to his dorm room.

***

Piper lay alone in his bed while White Mane did his mane in the bathroom.

Half an hour ago, White Mane had come home from a busy day at Camden with a frown on his face and Piper had tried to cheer him up by telling him about his day; about lending a book to Stormy, about getting invited out for a few drinks and how if White Mane wanted, he was definitely encouraged to come along.

White Mane had smiled deviously hearing the name ‘Stormy.’ and agreed in a heartbeat.

“Hey, Piper?” He heard the distinct beckoning call of his roommate. “Can you help me with something?”

He was on his hooves faster than he’d care to admit.

“Sure thing.” He responded. “What’s up?”

He entered the bathroom to find his roommate sitting on the toilet. His mane was wet and carefully clung to his face, and behind him, on the toilet bowl, were a wide assortment of mane care products that almost made Piper roll his eyes. Anti-oxidizing shampoo. Rejuvenating conditioner. Pore Cleansing Mousse.

Just another day helping his roommate prepare for a night on the town.

“Can you help me fix my mane for tonight?” White Mane asked.

Staring down at his roommate, with his mane draped behind his head; his big saucer eyes staring pleadingly at him and his lower lip quivering, Piper really had only one response.

“Yup.” came his enthusiastic reply.

“Thanks, Piper!” White Mane purred the words with the urgency of a needy house cat, as he craned his neck backwards. “I was thinking,” he whispered, still with his eyes closed and his head leaned back. “I want to do my mane a little different tonight.”

‘Different’ was a word that came in broad strokes with White Mane. It could mean he wanted to style his mane according to the latest trend to the Canterlot fashion scene. It could mean he wanted Piper to run up and down the halls trying to find a colt or mare who owned a pair of shears so that he could trim his bangs, or, it could mean he wanted him to pour lotion on his head and work it into his mane with his hooves.

Piper kind of hoped it was the latter option.

“Oh...um, ‘different’ is always nice.” he mumbled back, taking a seat on the wicker basket that was their hamper. “Yeah...’different’ is good.”

“Hmmm,” White Mane murmured. “Cosmare this month had an article in proper mane care. I’m supposed to let my mane soak for twenty minutes before applying mousse.”

“Well...Um...Cosmare knows best?” Piper offered back, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, staring at his roommate.

“Yup.” White Mane giggled. “You should read it sometime. They always have great fashion tips. Even for straight colts like you.”

Piper bit his tongue.

Yeah. Straight colts like him...

“I think,” White Mane began as his hoof slipped off his lap and onto the floor where he gripped an opened copy of Cosmare and lifted it towards his chest. “I want to do my mane like this. What do you think?”

Casually, he tossed the open magazine towards Piper, who caught it and stared at an image of Vinyl Scratch--naturally White Mane’s favorite musician--with her mane done quite fashionably: bangs hanging slightly over the left eye of her trademarked red tinted sunglasses and her tongue jarring out of her mouth at the reader.

Mentally, he pictured his roommate pulling off that same look and he had to say--or rather ‘think’ in this sense--that he quite enjoyed the image.

“That would look...um...quite nice on you.” He murmured quietly.

White Mane’s smile grew.

“Thanks Piper...” He giggled.

Piper felt his cheeks grow warm.

“Are you going to be wearing anything nice tonight?” White Mane questioned.

Piper, startled, realized he hadn’t even given that idea any consideration. Naturally, he planned to dress down--as in, not clothed--but, if White Mane planned on dressing to impress, it only seemed to make sense to do so himself.

“I guess so...” He replied. “My dad sent me a few shirts from H’Armani last week that I haven’t tried out yet...”

“Oh, Piper...” White Mane breathed as his eyes shot open and his smile came to life. “You’d look absolutely adorable in a H’Armani shirt!”

The rising heat in his cheeks could roast marshmallows.

“T-Thanks...” he mumbled quietly then stared back at White Mane, who had since closed his eyes once again. He realized that there wasn’t much more that his roommate could possibly need from him now, and with that in mind, he quietly snuck out of the bathroom.

He trotted towards the shared walk in closet and realized how generously he was using the word ‘shared’. Truthfully--and, if statistics based on whom used more space than the other were at play--the closet was unfairly ‘shared’ between the two. Piper’s wardrobe--mostly designer shirts his dad sent him from The Coast, or sports jackets and blazers that his mom sent from her travels to places like Canterlot, Manehattan and Ponyville--took up less than a quarter of the closet. The rest was an ensemble of clothes that his roommate owned and wore with varying frequency.

The idea of having White Mane be impressed with his fashion sense meant something to him and he rifled through his growing collection of clothes for the one that drew the eye the most. He settled for a white collared dress shirt from H’armani with pre-rolled sleeves.

After doing up the last button--a task made difficult by his consistently fumbling hooves--he stared at himself in the mirror and felt pride and confidence shine when he realized how handsome it made him look (Not that he was egotistical about it.) The bone white shirt contrasted nicely with his beige and brown-spotted coat.

Then a sad and sudden realization dawned on him; What was he doing? Here he was, dressing to impress a colt who he’d found some kind of growing attraction to over the past few weeks, but who most certainly didn’t feel the same of him. This was stupid. He was being stupid. Even if in the off chance that he did manage to look good for his roommate, what did that really matter? White Mane wasn’t attracted to him. Hells, White Mane thought Piper’s sexual and romantic interests lay with mares (Which, he actually had to say he still found to be a half truth.)

Oh well. At least he looked handsome tonight.

With that in mind, Piper came out of the closet.

Outside, White Mane sat casually in a chair by his bed, gently flipping through pages of Cosmare and with a mane that looked nearly identical to the style he’d shown Piper. There was a smile on his face and a glimmer in his eyes built when they fell on Piper.

“Piper...” He stated breathlessly. “You look so dapper in that shirt.”

Either White Mane got his kicks by making sexually confused colts blush, or he was the most unintentionally flirtatious pony who had ever lived.

Piper’s face was beet red and his brain couldn’t conjure a single thing to say back to his roommate. At least, not things which would keep their friendship strictly platonic. Instead, he just kicked his hoof against the floor and bowed his head.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked the floor--and by extension White Mane. He heard the colt leap to his hooves and felt him brush past his body, the touch of White Manes’ body against his rear was almost lightless, and still, Piper cringed and stuttered.

“Let me just throw on something nice.” White Mane offered as he entered the closet and closed the door behind him.

***

“Hey, Piper.” Were the first words out of the mouth of the colt that White Mane had been dying to meet all night: Stormy. The first glimpses of the colt who carried a legend (At least, within his circle of friends) were not disappointing.

He sat alone in a booth, furthest away from the door, smoking a cigarette and curling the ice cubes in a glass of what looked like whiskey. He was dressed down--casually--and looked rather dashing in his solid black track jacket with white zippers. His mane, well maintained but worn a little wild, betrayed the idea that Stormy was a pony comfortable and content in his own skin.

“Hey Stormy,” Piper greeted back as he reached the table with White Mane trialing behind him. “This is my roommate,”

“White Mane.” He extended his hoof softly. Stormy placed the cigarette on the tip of ashtray and gently gripped White Mane’s hoof with his own.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Stormy smiled.

White Mane smiled back.

“How about that drink?” Stormy offered. He took one last drag from the cigarette, then stamped it out in the crystal ashtray.

Both White Mane and Piper nodded in agreement and all three ponies trotted to the bar.

The bartender’s attention was drawn to a pretty mare that White Mane recognized from one of his classes. They waited a few minutes, with the bartender occasionally peeking at them and brushing them off with a wave of his hoof, until Stormy slapped a hoof filled with shiny bits on the bar counter.

“What’ll it be, sirs?” The bartended, shit eating grin and all, asked as he trotted towards them.

“I’d like...” White Mane paused. What would he like? Normally, a Vodka Lime would take the edge off, but, tonight he was feeling a little adventurous. “...a Fuzzy Stable?”

Under his breath, the bartender huffed something mean and cynical, and White Mane frowned. While this bartender clearly wasn’t concerned about his performance review, he struck something of a chord with White Mane; it almost hurt to be talked down to from a colt who earned his living getting ponies soused.

He turned his gaze to Stormy, who smiled like he understood his dilemma then grinned at the bartender.

“Make that two.”

It wasn’t much of a battle to be won, but White Mane felt comfort in Stormy’s choice.

The bartender turned to Piper.

“Oh, and, uh...just a Buckweiser.”

Again, the bartender grumbled something obscene under his breath, but it didn’t bother White Mane too much. Instead, he found cool comfort in Stormy’s unbreakable spirit and smiled along with him.

If this was a sign of things to come, White Mane had certainly made a good decision to come out tonight.

***

Back in their seats with their drinks in tow, all three art students were deadlocked in conversation. The topic really wasn’t anything enormously interesting; Piper was asking Stormy how he was enjoying the first few pages of the novel he’d lent to him. Stormy was answering. White Mane was staring at Stormy and trying to mentally diagnose his sudden interest in the colt.

If Stormy was anything, he was a charmer. He talked with a modest sense of confidence. He was never cocky, or conceited, more so proud and comfortable. He laughed with Piper’s jokes, grinned at stories shared about his life, and had the good sense to humor Piper as he launched into long winded rants about Starswirl The Bearded.

Brawny Brawler had nothing on Stormy.

During a lull in the conversation, noticing White Mane looked somewhat out of place while both he and Piper conversed about works that White Mane would never in his life read, Stormy decided to change the subject for the group’s benefit.

“Would anyone care to play a drinking game?” Stormy suggested, raising his eyebrows and dropping his hooves on the table beside his drink.

“A game?” Piper asked.

“Yeah, like a super casual ‘Get to know you’ kind of game?”

“Oh, that sounds fun.” White Mane crooned in delight.

Stormy laughed.

“Okay, the rules are pretty simple; We go in a circle, clockwise. Whoever’s up, takes a turn guessing a fact about the other. If they guess right, the player they ask has to drink. If they guess wrong, the player who asks has to drink. Then we go around the table.”

“Seems simple enough.” Piper shrugged.

“Yeah, it’s nice and easy.” Stormy said, chuckling. “I think the barista who works at Monk’s came up with it when she was studying for her psychology midterms last year. It can get a little inside your head, so, ground rules are; if you’re uncomfortable answering a question, you can pass...but you have to drink twice if you do.”

“Maybe you should start?” Piper suggested. “Just so we can get the hang of it?”

“Sure.”

Stormy turned to Piper, perched his head on his hooves and stared intently at the shy colt for a few quiet and intense minutes. Never uttering more than a quiet ‘Hmm.’ or ‘Yeah...”

Eventually, a bright smile built on his face and he leaned back in his chair.

“You’re wearing a two hundred bit shirt from H’Armani and you own a library of novels worth more than most ponies make in a month, so I’m going to throw caution to the wind and assume that you come from money?”

“Good guess.” Piper said as he took a drink.

Stormy smiled then gently bowed his head towards Piper,

“So, now you take your turn.”

Piper stared first at White Mane, paused and shook his head. He turned instead to Stormy, studying his features, his movements, then grinned.

“You smoke Red Apple cigarettes and you were drinking Buck Daniels when we came in. You’re an Earth pony, but you don’t have the accent, and you seem too laid back to be from the South, so, I take it you’re from either Baltimare or Manehattan?”

Stormy coughed a laugh and took a drink.

As per the rules of the game, it was White Mane’s turn now.

Since he knew Piper quite intimately (as all best friends did) there really wasn’t a thing in the world that Piper could be hiding from him. No secret hidden truths that could be revealed over the course of the game.

Piper was an open book, but, Stormy was a mystery that stood to be unraveled.

Sunny Side’s words at breakfast had started a curiosity with the older colt that had White Mane desperate to learn as much as he could about him. Specifically, if he were in fact gay (The gorgeous aspect of Sunny Side’s rant had certainly proven true.) and that, if he happened to be was he single? Did he date? Who did he date? Would he date a colt like White Mane? Did White Mane want him to date him?

Subtlety was the key here.

“Stormy,” He purred starring the colt deep in his lovely grey pupils. “You’re seeing someone on campus, aren’t you?”

In his seat, Piper grumbled something under his breath that almost sounded like “Oh, here we go!” then gripped his drink firmly and took an impressive swig. When he finished, he slammed his empty beer on the table and shot his hoof in the air, desperate to draw the attention of a waitress to grab a replacement.

Ignoring this, Stormy grinned and raised his drink.

White Mane felt his spirits sink but, he couldn’t argue that it didn’t make sense. Stormy was such a charming, charismatic and handsome young colt. It seemed obvious that someone had already claimed him for themselves.

*Sigh.* At least it had been worth a try, right?

Then, Stormy tilted the glass towards White Mane and winked.

“Nope.”

It was the best use of such a simple four letter word. White Mane’s heart beat rapidly in his chest and he realized his face was flushed, but, it didn’t matter. Stormy was single and that was a start. Cheerfully, White Mane sipped the straw of his Fuzzy Stable and perched his head on his hooves.

“Really?” White Mane, still doing his best contented cat impression, purred once again.

This drew an inquisitive stare from his roommate, followed by another grumble under his breath. Piper’s hoof still waved for a waitress, as his eyes still darted the room for anyone willing to serve him a drink.

Comparatively, Stormy seemed entrenched; like something that White Mane had said, or perhaps, just watching his body movements, had put him at ease. He leaned back in his seat, tossed his hoof along the railing of the booth and as casual as a pony could be, popped a cigarette between his lips.

“What about yourself?” Stormy asked, apparently putting the game on pause. “There must be someone special in your life?”

White Mane thought about his response; technically, all he had with Brawny Brawler was a one time fling, which several hours ago he’d have fought to defend as the precursor to a working relationship between the two of them. But, now, here, with Stormy (And....also Piper.), with the warmth of a good buzz filling his body, gazing at the alluring visage Stormy exuded, he felt comfortable admitting he was in fact very much single and also very much interested in pursuing a relationship.

“...No, I’m not seeing anypony.” He smiled.

Stormy smiled back.

Piper groaned into his hooves and lay his head flat on the table.

The two other ponies at the table ignored this.

“How about another round?” Stormy suggested. “Unless you have any objections?”

White Mane nodded enthusiastically.

***

Three Fuzzy Stables into his night and White Mane would fully admit he walked the line between buzzed and drunk. Stormy’s drinking game had certainly achieved it’s goal. Not a soul seated in the booth would pass a breathalyzer test.

Stormy seemed to be doing the best of the three, other than slightly sluggish movements and a more jovial and boyish tone in his voice, he could almost pass for sober. The words ‘High’ ‘Functioning’ and ‘Alcoholic’. strung together in a sentence seemed to apply to Stormy, but, White Mane didn’t think any less of him for it.

Piper, on the other hoof, looked a little worse for wear. He’d taken a beating during the game; his shy and quiet nature seemed to be his undoing tonight. Stormy, and after a certain time White Mane, had noticed that Piper would do his best to avoid answering topics such that revolved around sexuality, virginities and students on campus he may or may not have interest in.

Each time Piper refused to answer a question (Normally, his face would turn beet red and he’d mumble ‘pass’ while casually sipping his beer) he’d been forced to take two drinks. He now stood at five finished beers, with the sixth clutched shakingly in his right hoof.

Something about the way Piper was acting threw White Mane off. Normally, Piper was a laugh to be out with. He enjoyed casual nights and making new friends, and he certainly didn’t mind cracking into a beer or two, but, tonight seemed different. He seemed tense and on edge, like he consistently had something to say, but he wasn’t sure how or when to share it.

It almost bothered White Mane, but then he’d stare over at Stormy, and enjoy the warm feeling in his stomach that it brought with it.

To say he was a little interested in Stormy was an understatement. The same uneasy, light headed feeling built in the pit of his stomach when he’d glance at Stormy as it did when he thought about Brawny Brawler. For comparison sake they were almost polar opposites; Brawny had an exceptional body; one built from the ground up to draw the eye of mares (and, colts with innocent crushes). Stormy was toned and thin. He had boyish good looks, a wilder length and cut to his mane and a cuter smile.

Brawny. Stormy. Comparing the two was like comparing apples and oranges. They both had their appeal, it was just a matter of taste, and tonight, White Mane’s tongue craved the sexy, chain smoking orange sitting across from him.

The game was still on and White Mane felt a perfect equilibrium between comfortability with Stormy, and the liquid courage running through his veins to pose his next question, which had the potential to be a total game changer.

Hunching onto his shoulders, grinning like a wildcat and peering past Stormy’s eyes, trying to intimidate, White Mane decided to find out once and for all on what kind of water Stormy’s boat floated.

“Stormy,” he began. “, you’re a very charismatic young stallion. You’re witty, handsome and as you said, single. Would this happen to be because you prefer to cuddle with colts?”

Silence followed this quarry. Stormy’s face contorted; his eyebrows furrowed and an angry scowl built on his face.

White Mane felt panic wash over him.

Of all the dumb things to say to kill a mood, he just had to ask an interesting colt whom he was developing a growing fascination and physical attraction too, what his sexual orientation was, didn’t he?

Then, Stormy’s face reformed, he smiled, lifted his glass and took a sip.

White Mane felt his spirits lifted. Stormy was gay. He was four checks out of five on the metaphorical shopping list of qualities that White Mane looked for in a partner. Handsome (Check). Funny (Check). Single (Check) And, the most recent and uplifting; Gay (Check).

All that remained to be seen was if he was interested in White Mane.

“I think,” White Mane smirked. “, that it’s your turn?”

Suddenly, Piper’s head shot up and the strangest grin that White Mane had ever seen his roommate wear in his life spread across his cheeks; it looked almost diabolical.

“I don’t want to interrupt,” Piper interrupted, slapping a hoof on the table and leering at his roommate, “But, I’d like to steal this turn if that’s okay?”

“Uh...yeah, sure?” Stormy, slighted. “Go for it.”

“This one’s for White Mane,” He hiccuped, then turned to face his roommate. “You’ve got the hots for Stormy?”

“Piper...” White Mane mumbled, staring down and rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.

How could he have just said that? HOW? Of all the stupid drunk things to say, this was:

The.

Worst.

Possible.

Thing.

Ever.

Of all time.

Acting on impulse, White Mane kicked Piper’s shin and tore his eyes off the floor to glare at his roommate, but by this point in his night, Piper seemed too far gone to be remorseful. He stared back at White Mane, grinned stupidly.

“I think I’m going to run to the bathroom?” Stormy stated, clearing his throat and getting up from his seat. He stared back at the table, locked eyes with White Mane then gave a soft, almost unnoticeable smile.

White Mane watched with doey eyes as Stormy entered the bathroom, then, tearing his eyes from the neon sign that read ‘Colts’ in green lettering, he turned his glare onto Piper.

“Why did you say that?” He grumbled. “And, why do you care if I think Stormy is kind of cute?”

“...I guess that answers the question.” Piper slurred.

He seemed almost angry with White Mane. Like somehow, White Mane’s interest in a deviously handsome colt somehow offended him. This was very much unlike Piper, and had White Mane curious as to ‘Why?’ his roommate would care who he found attractive and who he didn’t.

The desire to have Piper flee the scene and save both roommates a night of embarrassment overrode every base emotion and the care and concern White Mane had for him. If Piper was going to sit here, get drunker, make kurt and scathing comments and prevent White Mane from pursuing a romantic interest, his company was certainly unwelcome at the table.

Sluggishly raising his head from the table, Piper sipped the last few drops from his beer and again his hoof shot into the air. This time a waitress, a thin and attractive Unicorn, answered his beckoning call and when she had Piper’s full attention (Which, given his drunken state took a few moments.) he ordered three shots of Brain Bleach: One part tequila, one part whiskey and one part gin.

Truthfully, White Mane had no interest whatsoever in partaking.

The shots came while Stormy was still in the bathroom and White Mane and Piper were locked in an entirely quiet and standoffish engage. Because of, or perhaps in spite of, this, Piper took it upon himself to finish all three shots for himself.

“White Mane,” Piper started after swallowing the last shot. There seemed to be a hint of concern and a softness to his words. “I just...I think that maybe you should know that I’m in lo...”

He stopped abruptly when his eyes fell on Stormy’s returning form, and remained perfectly quiet when he watched Stormy slip into the seat beside White Mane.

Piper gave a sigh under his breath and said nothing else.

His head fell to the table. The room started spinning, and the last thing he remembered before everything went black was seeing Stormy smiling at White Mane and knowing that it only meant trouble for him.

***

“Oh Piper,” a groan came from beside him. It was soft and low, but filled with stress all the same. “How are you this heavy?”

Piper’s eyes fluttered open and he realized he was being held up. His upper hooves were spread, both tossed around the shoulders of whomever it was that was carrying him, while his lower hooves hung limp and dragged against the cold cobblestone ground.

In front of him was a door. To his right, White Mane, to his left...Stormy. Both colts with one of his hooves around their shoulder, staring impatiently at the closed door in front of them.

“It must be his egghead brain?” He heard Stormy joke. White Mane giggled. Piper held back a groan.

The world around him was still spinning. He felt sick to his stomach and the only thing that made sense to do in that moment was close his eyes and hang his head. The sound of the door opening startled him back to reality, he stared up, to see the form of Sunny Side in the open doorway.

“I’m so, so, so, sorry to bother you so late, Sunny.” White Mane apologized. “Piper had a bit too much to drink tonight and he’s far too heavy to carry back to our room. Would you mind taking care of him tonight,” Slight pause for White Mane to stare at Stormy, then back at Sunny Side, a low, sultry and pleading look in his eyes. “Please?”

Sunny Side stared first at White Mane, into the pleading, almost desperate, puppy dog eyes, then at Piper, his head hung low in shame, then, at Stormy. Back at White Mane. Then to Stormy. A knowing smile built up on his face.

“Hello, Stormy...” He purred.

“Uh...hi?” Stormy offered back, raising a curious brow, then peered at White Mane for consultation.

“We don’t mind taking Piper in for you,” Sunny Side said, drawing his gaze from Stormy and onto the drunken colt held up between them. “It’s been awhile since Honey Drop and I have had company, so the guest bedroom is rather filthy, but, I’m sure we can find some blankets and comforters in the linen closet.”

“Thank you, Sunny.” White Mane smiled. “I really, really, appreciate you two doing this for me.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble.” Sunny Side grinned. “You two just have a fun rest of your night, okay?”

Delicately, White Mane and Stormy set Piper down. He promptly collapsed into an immobile heap on the stairwell, save for nuzzling his head into his hooves.

“Piper, wake up.” White Mane urged, prodding his roommate.

Piper didn’t move.

“Piper, you need to wake up now.” Again, White Mane urged his roommate with a prod from his hoof. This time however, Piper batted the hoof away angrily.

“Fuggoff.” he grumbled.

White Mane sighed. He hadn’t wanted to take the route he was about too, but, Piper left him with no choice.

“Piper!” He shouted, startling the two other conscious bodies and the drunken one on the floor. “You’re drunk and your behavior tonight was very unbecoming! You were rude, crass and impolite, and if you want to make it up to me, you’ll do exactly as I say. Understand?”

Piper sprang to life. He got to his hooves and stared at his roommate; his features got soft and apologetic, but he said nothing.

“Good.” White Mane continued. “Now, Sunny Side and Honey Drop were kind enough to let you stay at their place tonight. You’ll do whatever they tell you to do, and, in the morning when you’re sober, you’ll apologize to them, myself and Stormy for almost ruining the evening. Are we clear?”

Piper nodded, then stared down at the floor. His hoof traced lines along the concrete.

Sunny Side and Stormy stood in shock at White Mane’s commanding display of authority. It was startling to see White Mane take charge of the situation with absolutely unwavering confidence.

Piper shuffled inside the house and stopped halfway, he turned back to White Mane, who patted a hoof on his shoulder, comfortingly, then turned him back inside the house. Sunny Side smiled at Stormy and White Mane, then closed the door behind Piper.

White Mane turned to Stormy, who offered a charismatic little eyebrow wiggle.

“Shall we?” He asked, swiping a hoof to lead the way away from Sunny Side and Honey Drop’s shared home and back towards Camden. White Mane complied happily and seconds later they were on their way.

***

The walk was quiet and almost romantic; occasionally, White Mane would steal a peek at Stormy, a fleeting glance at the handsome colt who led the way; admiring the way the breeze tussled his mane, the drunk if not determined look in his eyes, how he walked with confidence and pride.

At a park bench a stones throw away from either ponies dorm rooms , Stormy stopped and took a comfortable seat. He patted his hoof on the empty space beside him, and White Mane happily obliged him.

“Back there? The way you handled your roommate? That was pretty crazy.” Pause to get adjusted in his seat. “How did you learn to do that?”

White Mane puffed his chest out in pride; he hadn’t exactly expected to share such an intimate detail tonight, but, Stormy asked and he had an answer.

“I was a Royal Guard.” He stated boastfully.

Stormy stared him up and down, studying his form, before laughing. White Mane deflated and made his face contort into a pouty expression.

“I’m sorry,” Stormy chuckled softly. “It’s just...it’s hard to picture you wearing a royal guard outfit.”

“Hey, I passed basic training with top grades!” White Mane defended. “I...just didn’t feel like it was for me..which is why I came to Camden.”

“Wow.” Stormy breathed. “I’m sorry, I had no idea. That’s...actually very impressive.”

“It’s okay,” White Mane smiled back. “Camden is much more fun than the Royal Guard Barracks.”

“I can imagine.” Stormy said.

Stormy took the momentary pause in conversation to shuffle closer to White Mane. The feel of Stormy’s fur brushing against his own, as his flank just gingerly touched against White Mane’s, made the younger colt’s mind go hazy.

Flashbacks of this exact move, pulled by a closeted jock at a frat party a few weeks in the past, filled White Mane’s mind and left him conflicted. On the one hoof, Stormy was clearly gearing towards making a pass at him that White Mane couldn’t honestly say he’d find offensive, on the other hoof, this felt eerily similar to his whirlwind night of passion with Brawny Brawler that had most definitely ended in sorrow.

But, Stormy wasn’t Brawny, and unless White Mane had the wrong impression of him, Stormy wasn’t about to do something too incredibly forward and forceful to him.

“Is it true?” Stormy asked, breaking through White Mane’s mental focus. “About the stare?”

Ah, yes. The signature ‘Royal Guard Stare.’ The unshatterable stone faced glare, never betraying the emotions of the pony wearing it that was a necessary skill taught to recruits in basic training. Of all the skills White Mane had mastered during his brief stint serving Celestia’s fabulous military, he was none more proud than he was of his ability to pull it off without a hitch.

Without a word, White Mane’s soft and gentle face turned hard. His eyebrows furrowed, his smile flattened and even his nostrils flared for a brief second. All emotions once present on his face were wiped clear and replaced with a purely neutral look that seemed entirely enticing to Stormy.

“And, nothing can break it, right?”

White Mane didn’t respond.

Stormy moved a little closer. White Mane felt his hoof brush the fur against the back of his neck.

White Mane didn’t move.

While Stormy’s right hoof softly spiraled the fur of his right shoulder in a very gentle massage, he pressed his left hoof against White Mane’s knee, groping his thigh.

He didn’t even twitch.

Stormy leaned his face to White Mane’s ear so that White Mane could feel his breath against his cheek.

“You’re good.” Stormy whispered into his ear. Teasingly, and probably just to test his commitment to his claims, he ran his hoof up White Mane’s thigh, brushing past his leg, drawing closer and closer, inch by inch, to his waist.

White Mane remained perfectly still. Not a single line on his face gave so much as a subtle twitch in response. He was absolutely statuesque....

...even if internally he was loving every second of Stormy feeling him up in public on a park bench.

“Wow,” Stormy again whispered into his ear. “You’re really good.”

It was there and then that White Mane decided he’d more than proven his point to Stormy, and, as a reward from himself, to himself, he felt he more than earned the right to do something devious.

Stormy’s face, inches from his own, was just begging for him to do something about it, and, that is exactly what he did. Acting on a selfish impulse, he leaned his head forward and captured Stormy’s lips in a hungry, excited kiss. If it surprised Stormy, he didn’t show it, instead, he wrapped both of his hooves tight around White Mane’s body and hugged the younger stallion tight into his chest.

Maybe it was the beer, or maybe it was knowing he, and not Stormy, had made the first move tonight, but White Mane felt like being a little more forceful. He cupped Stormy’s face in his hooves and peppered the older colt’s mouth with gentle, numbing, kisses.

On a slower, sloppier kiss, White Mane felt the slick wetness of Stormy’s tongue lick against his lips and was happy to oblige it’s entry. Never parting his lips from Stormy’s, he opened his mouth to let his tongue slide against his own.

In the distance, the sound of frat boys laughing startled the two out of their daze. White Mane, begrudgingly pulled his face away from Stormy’s. The frat boys emerged from the darkness and into the light, gawked at the two colts sitting on the park bench, said nothing and continued on.

Embarassed, White Mane ran a hoof along his neck and stared at Stormy, who was smiling back at him. He leaned forward and rubbed his cheek against Stormy’s, nuzzling him. He kissed him softly on the ear, then on the cheek and then, once again on the lips. Stormy, ran his hoof between White Mane’s legs, rubbing his growing fondness for the older colt and earning a desperate, excited pant from White Mane.

“Maybe,” White Mane continued to pant as Stormy’s soft nimble hoof continued to slowly stroke his member. “, we...oh D-Dukes,... should go to my room?”

Stormy bit White Mane’s neck, and his hoof worked White Mane’s stallion hood a little faster. White Mane gave a loud moan. Stormy bit up his neck, to his ear, nibbled it and whispered “Sure,”.

Stormy drew his hoof from White Mane’s crotch, and brought it to his cheek. He turned his face towards him, kissed him softly, then stroked the underside of his chin. White Mane, dazed, could hardly think as Stormy got up and extended his hoof to White Mane, who accepted it graciously.

On the path back to White Mane’s dorm room, both colts walked with their bodies pressed firmly against the other and their tails playfully batting the other’s flank.

***

The door slammed open loud and shook on it’s hinges. White Mane, standing upright on his lower hooves, emerged through the open doorway and was forced against the wall as Stormy’s body pressed up against him. Cold hooves gripped the flesh of his plot as Stormy’s teeth bit into his throat. White Mane threw his head back, revelling in the feel of Stormy nipping at his throat and squeezing his ass.

Chests with fur matted down and soaked with sweat mashed together and both colts could feel the excitement in each other as warm flesh slapped against thighs and rubbed into fur. White Mane leaned his head down, Stormy pulled his face off of his neck and they were kissing again; hard and heavy. White Mane slipped his tongue past Stormy’s lips and wrestled it against Stormy’s, his hooves traced lines down Stormy’s back and he started humping himself against Stormy’s waist.

Then, suddenly, Stormy pulled away and White Mane panted his disappointment. Both colts took a second to catch their breath, an aura of excitement between them, before Stormy broke the comfortable silence.

“Bed?” He panted.

White Mane bit his lower lip, nodded and was quickly thrown onto the soft sheets of his bed. He lay waiting while,Stormy made his way slowly towards him. He stopped when he stood at the foot of his bed. His eyes turned low, sultry almost, then he he crawled to White Mane’s crotch and leaned his face to White Mane’s calf; He bit and kissed his way up White Mane’s calf, past his thigh, then, nuzzled his face against White Mane’s crotch; his mane, muzzle, then lips, gently brushed the base of White Mane’s girth.

“Oh, Goddess.” Was all that White Mane could whimper at the sensation of soft lips capturing the lowest part of his shaft in a soft kiss.

This...was too much. He’d given head (once) and even though Brawny Brawler had made it a terrible first time experience for him, he’d still enjoyed the sensation of swallowing a stallion’s cock. He remembered, quite vividly, the jolting twitches and the violent rumble that came seconds before Brawny shot his seed down his throat. He also remembered that he'd loved it.

Being the recipient now was an entirely different story.

Stormy was hovering over the head of White Mane’s cock and locking eyes with him. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to his flesh, kissing his flared tip. If White Mane had less self control, he would have blown his load watching inches of himself disappear past Stormy’s mouth and down his throat.

It felt soooo good.

White Mane touched a hoof to Stormy’s cheek and pet him affectionately. Stormy gripped White Mane’s hoof with his own and lifted it to the back of his mane, giving White Mane complete control over him.

“Oh...f-f-fudge.” White Mane panted at the feeling of Stormy’s tongue licking the underside of his cock. “Stormy...I...,”

He paused, and lifted Stormy’s mouth, slowly, off of his cock. Stormy spent a few seconds trying to catch his breath, and when he finally did, White Mane gripped his face by the cheeks and pulled him into a deep, sensual, kiss.

The kiss ended when both colts ran out of breath. Panting, almost heaving, and desperate to regain his stamina, White Mane traced his right hoof across Stormy’s chest, petting and groping the stiff muscles. When his right hoof found Stormy’s own stiff member, twitching with excitement, he gave it a soft squeeze and started slowly, playfully, stroking him off.

Stormy grunted and leaned his head to White Mane’s ear, biting it softly. He lowered his body, so that his cock and White Mane’s cock were squashed between their chests, then began slowly, rhythmically, humping himself against White Mane.

Oh, bless Celestia, this was the pinnacle of pleasure.

Stormy began to move faster, and the pleasure pulsing through White Mane’s body began to reach a boiling point. As much as he hated to admit it, a few more minutes of Stormy rubbing himself against his stomach, and vice versa, would be his end for the night, and, White Mane would be damned if he was going to let that happen.

“I want,” He panted into the older colt’s ear. “...I want you...to take me.”

Without a word, Stormy pressed his hooves firmly against White Mane’s shoulders and arched his chest upwards. For a second, White Mane was startled, but realization hit him hard: Stormy was asking him how exactly he wanted to do it.

His heart raced. It beat wildly against his chest as he stared up at Stormy, who towered over him. His mind clouded with the thought that Stormy was the one. Stormy was the colt that White Mane was going to lose his virginity too. Stormy was going to be the first colt whom he’d ever share the sensual act of coitus with.

“Do you have, um...” Stormy paused. “, Lube?”

White Mane bit his lower lip.

“In the third drawer,” He blushed. “It’s in the, *cough*...the pink jewelry box.”

He could hear Stormy chuckle, lightheartedly. There was a shift in the bed as Stormy got off and moved towards White Mane’s white dresser. He tore open a drawer and fished around, tossings pairs of socks, and shirts aside until he stopped, seeming to find what he was looking for.

Back on the bed, White Mane flipped himself onto his stomach and he pressed his face deep into the pillow. He raised his buttocks into the air, presenting himself to his waiting lover.

“Oh, fuck, White Mane.” He heard Stormy moan from behind him. “You look so hot like that.”

White Mane blushed and peered over his shoulder to catch the welcomed site of Stormy crawling back onto the bed. He knelt behind him with his chest raised, and his stark erection pointed like a weapon directly at White Mane’s posterior.

“Are you good?” He purred. White Mane nodded.

Slowly, Stormy crawled over on top of him and White Mane shuddered at the warm feeling of Stormy pressing himself between his cheeks, the tip of his erection teasing his tight and unsullied entrance.

Cold chills ran down his spine when he felt lukewarm liquid pour onto his plothole and he had to bite the pillow to keep from moaning at the feel of Stormy’s cold hoof as he spread lube around his entrance.

“Ready?” Stormy asked again, reaching a hoof down to his cheek and gave it a soft, reassuring stroke. White Mane turned back to Stormy, bit his lower lip and nodded.

This was it. This was the moment that he’d dreamed about since he’d first found himself drooling over the hot muscular bodies of the farm ponies that summer his family took their vacation in Dodge Junction.

It was numbing at first, the feeling of Stormy’s cock as he pushed himself into his tight hole. The numb feeling subsided and even though Stormy was slow and meticulous, it started to hurt; he felt full, like he was passing a bowel movement in reverse.

He could feel his body pinch hard against Stormy’s length, which seemed to excite the colt on top of him; he stroked his hooves along his back until they stopped at his waist then gripped him firmly. Still being gentle as he could, Stormy pushed what felt like an entire foot of himself inside White Mane at a quicker pace.

Below him, White Mane grunted. It still hurt, but it was starting to feel a little better. An article in Cosmare last year had mentioned that the first few times a colt or mare engaged in anal sex wouldn’t be entirely pleasant affairs, but, it after a point it would start to feel brain numbingly good.

White Mane just wasn’t there yet.

He bit hard into the pillow as more and more of Stormy’s cock filled him. The pain was starting to wane away and the strangest feeling began to take it’s place; it was warm, tickling and entirely pleasing.

This must be where it got good?

A low, guttural moan came from the handsome prince above him, and White Mane could feel Stormy tighten his grip around his waist. He pulled back and his cock slid with little reluctance out of his hole, until just the tip of his cock remained.

White Mane exhaled a sharp breath of air, Stormy’s right forehoof left it’s place on his hip and stroked his cheek and White Mane leaned sideways to kiss it. Stormy leaned on top of White Mane’s body, trailed his hooves back to his rump and gave it a playful little slap.

“White... Mane..” He moaned into his ear, “I... I’m gonna... go a little faster... okay?”

White Mane moaned in response. Stormy pushed his hips forward, thrusting quicker and less methodically inside him and White Mane nearly squealed when he felt the head of his cock rub against a nub he never knew existed inside.

A pulses of pure sexual bliss rocked his body.

“Oh, f-f-fudge, Stormy!” He grunted. “Please, please, please, do that again.”

Stormy pulled out quick, White Mane sighed, then Stormy bucked himself into White Mane deep and hard. Again, his tip hit that special spot and this time White Mane cut loose a squeal of absolute delight. His eyes went lidded, his mind went blank and his tongue rolled out of his mouth.

Stormy sped up his pace; his hips rocked against White Mane’s rear as he fucked him into sexual oblivion. Below him, White Mane was a writhing, squirming mess of pants and moans. He clenched hard against Stormy’s cock each time he slid out and loosened his grip whenever Stormy thrust inside.

“Oh, Goddess!” White Mane moaned against the pillow. “Harder, Stormy! Please?" Pause for a high pitched squeal "Oh yes! Fuck me, Stormy! Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!”

Stormy was happy to oblige.

He fed White Mane’s urgency with faster, forceful thrusts into White Mane’s rear, turning the colt into sexual putty. White Mane nuzzled his face into the pillow so hard and so fast that he was likely to get friction burn.

Stormy smiled, goofily, then leaned his face down to nip the tips of White Mane’s ears.

“Stormy,” he huffed between breaths as he turned his face to meet him. “I... Oh, D-D-Dukes! I think I’m getting close!”

The tremors of pleasure that shot through his body were getting stronger, and a sensation unlike any he’d experienced in his life up until that point built slowly in his cock.

Soft hooves gripped onto his haunches, then groped around his chest. Stormy pulled him backwards so that both colts clung tightly in an upright stance on the bed. Stormy hugged White Mane tight against his chest and continued to pound his tight little hole. Their new position seemed to make the sex more intense. A sensation stronger than any other he’d felt that night overtook him, his knees shook, his back tightened and this time when Stormy’s cock rubbed against his prostate, White Mane was pushed over the edge. He came stronger, harder and longer than he had ever done before in his life

Ropes of white pearlescent liquid shot out of his cock. They landed haphazardly along the length of his bed, on his pillows, and against the wall. He didn’t have a moment to consider the mess before Stormy’s own cock seized up inside of him and he felt his hole fill with his warm seed. Stormy slipped his shrinking member from White Mane’s plot, and released his grip around him.

Spent and exhausted, White Mane fell onto the mess on his bed and Stormy collapsed beside him. Catching their breath, both colts stared deep into the other's eyes, then found themselves launched into a fit of content and silly laughter. White Mane wrapped a hoof around Stormy’s neck and pulled him into for a slow, sensual kiss. Stormy kissed back harder and more passionately.

While still locked in their embrace, Stormy rolled himself onto his back, and pulled White Mane onto his chest, White Mane drew back, smiled down at Stormy, then gave a delicate peck to his lips.

“That was,” He breathed, but couldn’t find the words to finish his thought.

Stormy leaned up and kissed him anyway.

Sweaty, spent and experiencing the blissful afterglow of his first time, White Mane stared down at himself and frowned. Fur that had once been matted with sweat, now reflected patches of his semen that shone in the low lighting of the room. His bottom felt moist and White Mane knew that for better or worse, he had to break the embrace and clean himself.

“I need to shower,” He mumbled, quietly.

Stormy chuckled and White Mane playfully batted a hoof to his shoulder. He gave Stormy another quick and loving peck to his lips, before he begrudgingly tore his body from Stormy’s and stepped onto the floor. He took his first few steps away from the bed to find his rear felt properly used and painfully sore. To remedy this, he waddled with spread legs and long, carefully calculated steps, towards the bathroom.

***

He stepped out of the shower feeling fresh, clean and like a new pony. His bottom still hurt, but not quite as bad as before ; the piping hot water had seen to that. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he smiled; physically, he looked the same (If not cleaner) as when he'd entered, but the colt reflected in his eyes was a sexually satisfied pony who had just lost his virginity to the most wonderful colt in all of existence.

Tonight was easily the most wonderful, exciting night of his entire life.

A cold chill met him as he exited the bathroom along with the smell of cigarette smoke; Stormy lay on Piper’s bed, with the window open behind him, dragging on a Red Apple cigarette and staring, longingly, at the approaching form of White Mane.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he dropped the half smoked cigarette into an unfinished can of cola on Piper’s desk. It died with a quiet ‘hiss’ and a trail of smoke rose up and escaped through the opened window. “I probably should have asked first?”

“It’s fine.” White Mane smiled. He turned to stare at his own cum-drenched bed sheets and realized the motive behind Stormy’s move to his roommate’s fresh, unsullied bedding.

He crawled into the bed beside Stormy, and draped a hoof over his chest, nuzzling his face into the older colt’s chest. Stormy wrapped a hoof around his shoulder and gave him a soft kiss on his nose.

“You know, it’s kind of funny,” White Mane started, staring up at Stormy.

“What is?”

“Well, everypony talks about their first time being really special and magical, and, I didn’t believe them,” White Mane grinned. “, But this was the most wonderful experience I’ve ever had with a colt.”

“This was *cough*... your first time?”

For some reason, Stormy looked uncomfortable. Nervous almost. But, White Mane hardly gave it a second thought.

“Yeah,” he sighed, dreamily. “, but, I’m so glad I got to share it with you.”

Stormy continued to stare nervously down at him. White Mane tossed his leg over one of Stormy’s and pulled himself deeper into the embrace. He wasn’t going to let Stormy go after tonight.

Short seconds later, his heavy eyes fell shut and he was fast asleep in the colt who had captured his heart’s chest.

Yup. He had Stormy, and Stormy had him, and life was absolutely wonderful.

Author's Note

Just a few quick author notes; I owe a lot of thanks to Paintingthedarkness, Avorin The Editor, Werewolf435, Camrad18 and Nightmare Trixie for pre-reading and editing. And a very special thanks to Cola_Bubble_Gum who helped write some of the steamier scenes.