Flight School Showers Are Fun
Flight School Showers Are Fun
Thunderlane shivered.
His ears perked, and he strained to hear hoofsteps or voices in the hall over the sound of his own heavy breathing. The water pouring down rang in his ears like a tiny hurricane, and the way it wandered down his body distracted him. His heart beat like a drum bought for an overactive foal.
“Scaredy-cat,” a voice whispered in his ear, and the hot breath that ran over it made him fidget with something that wasn’t quite anxiety, but a close cousin. His wings stood straight out, like ramrods.
Soarin’ was always doing this, daring him to do things he shouldn’t. Challenging him to make that extra dive or go that extra mile despite the stupidity. Dragging him into awkward situations... like this one. When they’d finally stopped beating around the bush and gotten together after a year of flight school, he’d never thought ahead to what that would probably mean.
“Cautious. I’m cautious,” Thunderlane countered, looking straight ahead at the curtain. The flimsy curtain. The curtain that wasn’t much protection from the sight of a passerby...
Dating Soarin’ meant being talked into crazy things a lot. A whole lot.
“You trust me, don’tcha?” And then he was nibbling on Thunderlane’s neck, the dark gray pegasus’ weakness.
His shoulders rolled, and he beared his neck almost by instinct, letting out a sigh. “I think I do,” he managed, closing his eyes.
“You wound me,” the other stallion said, continuing.
Thunderlane tried to swallow. Heat from the cascading water and the heat from his partner’s ministrations combined and his thoughts began to shatter. His breaths came erratically.
“Are you s-sure? I mean, we could... get in trouble,” Thunderlane pointed out, distracted. Soarin had stood him up on his hindlegs against the tiled, slick wall, and those hindlegs shook badly. But he wanted to stay up. Thunderlane set his hooves against the slick sides of the tiny public shower, keeping his unnatural position.
“Trouble,” scoffed Soarin’, as he rubbed an idle hoof along Thunderlane’s chest, “is a part of life. It makes it good. It makes a lot of things good, actually...”
Thunderlane took a deep breath as that hoof wandered. Soarin’ kissed him hungrily, and he returned it. Perhaps, more accurately, he surrendered to it. There was no arguing with Soarin’, no convincing him. There was only going along with his plans, knowing that at the end if it all went South at least he would stick around to take the blame.
And the longer they were in close quarters here, Soarin’ all but trapping him against the wet walls, the more he was feeling like it wasn’t such a bad idea. Gradually, but...
To be delicate, it was rather physically obvious.To be blunt, he was hard and it was resting against his coltfriend’s flank. Soarin’ chuckled at him, his voice low and his smirk the kind that sent shivers down Thunderlane’s spine.
“Well then. I thought you weren’t sure about all this.”
“You’re an asshole,” Thunderlane said, but there was no force behind it. His fear was still there, but his reservations were gone like a broken levee before a flood. He felt a burning need, and when Soarin’ kissed him again, he responded with urgency.
“Only to you,” Soarin’ replied with sing-songy sweetness before his hoof reached what had been it’s target all along. Thunderlane took a deep breath, staring ahead with wide eyes at the shock of it, as Soarin’ ran a hoof along his length. “Sides, you like it, don’tcha?”
He didn’t answer audibly, but nodded at the teasing, light touch. It was torturous, just enough to excite him and promise more, but nothing that could deliver. The hoof wandered down, all around, leaving the stallionhood behind and making him whine. He felt like an idiot.
Soarin’ was eating it up, he could just tell. He lowered himself onto all four hooves again and nipped at Thunderlane’s chest, his teeth leading down towards the prize.
“Thunder,” he whispered in a sing-song fashion, “you still wanna run? Somepony could walk in lookin’ for a nice hot shower anytime, you know.”
As that tongue drew closer and closer to his shaft, Thunderlane’s good sense evaporated like the water which steamed up all around him and clouded his vision.
“Fuck, just do it, man,” he said, and the uncharacteristic vulgarity made Soarin’ pause and look up.
“Well, if you insist.”
He ran his tongue over the length of Thunderlane’s member as slow as he could manage and Thunderlane tried his best not to move or whine. It was almost impossible, with the heat of the shower and the warm, wet feel of Soarin’s tongue doing it’s best to draw some noise out of him.
And then Soarin’ took Thunderlane into his mouth, and to his everlasting shame, Thunderlane’s eye twitched and he let out a gasp that was covered by the sound of cascading water. Soarin’ had planned ahead.
Soarin’s tongue ran over the head of his cock and Thunderlane tried not to make any more noise or buck against the touch. With practiced technique, he moved back and forth. The sound of it was lost in the water, but Thunderlane could feel the warmth and the pressure around his member and it was driving him mad. He laid both hooves on Soarin’s head, but didn’t push down.
Soarin’ moved his head back and forth, still going over the head and underside with his tongue, working feverishly fast. Thunderlane’s hooves went back to the wall and his head rolled up, eyes closed, as a low groan escaped him.
“Oh, gods...” he breathed, staring at the ceiling.
The pressure increased as Soarin’ worked feverishly, perhaps now realizing how public this all was and how foolish it was, Thunderlane had just enough energy to think.
As the water poured over his chest and down onto Soarin’s head as it bucked back and forth, he tried to listen over the sound of his own breathing for the telltale sounds of hoofsteps in the hall. It had been Soarin’s idea to do this in the hall’s public showers, not his...
Not that he minded right at that moment.
Part of him wanted to beg him to hurry up, go faster. The rest of him wasn’t really thinking much in terms of words as Soarin finally managed to get a hoof into the works to run along the shaft as his mouth left it behind, still rocking back and forth.
Pressure built, and he shut his eyes.
“I... hey, Soarin’, I—”
The feeling began to peak, and his right hindleg twitched. He almost lost his balanced on the slick floor, but held on as Soarin’ finally began to coax him into climax.
As the wave of relief washed over him, he finally let out a long groan that was only Soarin’s name and felt strangely shameless.
Outside, he heard something.
Soarin’, sputtering, fell back. They locked eyes for a moment, Thunderlane shaking and Soarin’ trying to swallow and almost choking, both of them in shock.
Quickly, Soarin’s tucked in his stiff wings and pushed himself back out of the stall across from the shower full of steam and with his hindleg kicked the door closed.
Thunderlane finally let himself collapse against the hot wall and sat there, listening to the sound of his own breath, praying that whoever it wasn’t hadn’t heard or noticed. He was grateful for the door being on the other side of this bank of showers.
The interloper walked along the walkway between the showers and the bathroom stalls, and then Thunderlane heard the sound of a shower curtain rustling. He blew out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding.
Carefully, as the warm water pelted his head and flattened the beginnings of his mohawk, he peeked out of the little shower cubby. Soarin’ was there, peeking back with a huge grin on his face, about to whisper something that Thunderlane assumed would be a “Told you so.”
It was about this time, as they stuck their heads out into the open, that they heard a cough and turned as one to face the source.
Spitfire, with a towel and her little toiletries bag, stood watching them with one eyebrow raised high. She set down the bag and spoke.
“Boys...”
Author's Note
Funny story:
This is based off of my days as a Freshman. The freshamn guy's dorm, Chrestman, apparently had a really big problem with guys having gratuitous sex in the showers. The public showers. On every floor, all three of them. It became a running joke, and it just added to it that the Chrestman approach to life involved wandering the halls and rooms of the dorm with as few clothes as possible. I was telling someone about that yesterday, I cannot for the life of me remember why, and I suddenly had this idea for a story. So here it is
Yay smexy stallions
TipsyTwilight signing off
