Storm from Afar

by Crowne Prince

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin, Rainbow Dash, Romance, Slice of Life, Wonderbolts
Length: 2156

Soarin' wonders what to do about his intense longing for Rainbow Dash.

Soarin' wonders what to do about his intense longing for Rainbow Dash.

Standalone story, post LOYALTY.

Published 2013-04-27 08:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2013-04-27 08:20:01 UTC

Storm from Afar

Smooth colors flow against the background of bright cerulean – first red, then orange, then yellow. Each part of the rainbow shifts over sky fur like blades of grass in the wind. She’s a living rainbow, one that does not fade away the closer you get. One you can touch.

"Soarin', are you even listening to me?" Rapidfire asks, even though I can tell from the exasperated way he says it that he knows the answer is 'no.' We’re standing on the practice field in the center of Wonderbolt Headquarters after the morning routine.

You leave with Spitfire. Every new Wonderbolt is paired up with an experienced teammate to get them up to speed. Each day you're not with Spitfire you're with somepony else learning something about life here, pegasus magic, combat, what have you.

"I'm asking if you want to go to that new restaurant with me, Surprise, and Fleetfoot around eight," Rapidfire continues.

"Uh yeah, sure, okay." I don't have plans. The best thing to do is to keep my mind occupied.

"Look, I know you want Rainbow Dash to come, but she has a lesson in the evening. I already asked."

Rapidfire spreads his wings and jumps over to where Lightning Streak is pulling a broken feather from his wing and fussing over the gap it leaves in his flawless appearance. Rapidfire says something to the lightning pony and the latter shakes his head. He must be busy tonight.

So now it's just me on the field. I'm jealous of Spitfire, even though I know it wouldn't do you any good to spend more training time with me. These days being close to you makes it difficult to think, as if fog is smothering my thoughts. Having that striking blue coat anywhere within my reach drives me absolutely crazy.

Crazy. My face is flushing just from the thought. I'm completely crazy for you Dash; don't you know that? Can't you tell by the way I burn when you meet my gaze? Can't you tell by the way I lean forward when we kiss goodnight in front of your door – that even after you pull away, desperate for sleep, I tip into the empty space you leave and have to take a step to catch myself? Please let me follow you. Please don't close the door and leave me standing here again, tortured by fading warmth you leave on my lips.

Dammit.

My wings open of their own accord and take me somewhere to do anything that requires my full attention and erases you from my mind. I go to combat training even though it’s not my rotation and carry heavier and heavier sets of weights until the sweat drips down my coat and I’m sure I’ll wake up the next morning with a piercing pain at the base of my wings. Surprise agrees to educate me in the ways of record keeping, charity donations, and financing. When that turns into wasted breath she tells me perhaps I should get away from accounting and try baking. The end result is the first pie any of us has ever seen emerge from the oven and literally explode. I try to remember what I did to recreate that effect while I lick splattered apple filling off my hooves.

I’m reminded of the time at the Grand Galloping Gala, and I’m off again before it sinks in.

Over dinner my friends are careful not to bring up our colorful teammate, even though Rapidfire probably wants to talk about your training progress. The leaves in the mountains are already starting to turn, and when fall comes you'll perform in your first official Wonderbolt air show. You're probably anxious and excited about it at the same time. Pony fluff, I’m thinking about you again.

“Whoa Soarin’!” Surprise catches the mouth of the bottle with her hoof and tips it back up. “I said pour me a drink, not two. I’ve only got one glass.” She laughs, and the yellow curls of her mane bob.

I come back to reality and turn the conversation to hide my mistake. “Fleetfoot, how’s your family? I take it you don’t get to see much of them in the fall season.”

Fleetfoot finishes chewing and smiles. “The foals are giving us a hard time, so maybe I am lucky to be gone so much the next few months. At their age they’re always trying to sneak out on adventures. Fortunately the worst trouble they can get into in Canterlot besides breaking royal prized-possessions is entering the grounds of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns. I see now why the school has that fence around it. I wonder if it will be as effective when they learn how to fly.”

Now I’m curious. “They broke something that belonged to one of the Princesses?”

“No, they shattered one of Prince Blueblood’s mirrors.”

Surprise jumps in, her three watches sliding down her foreleg as she stomps it on the table. “You should've seen his face Soarin’. It was the most indignant, horrified expression I've seen him make – and you know how good he is at it!”

We laugh and order desert. It feels so good to laugh like that.

I wish you were here.

Sometimes we fly together before you go to visit Ponyville. Racing you gets more and more difficult, because I no longer want to speed ahead and put you behind me. More than anything I’d like to catch you and pull you down, tumbling through the clouds until we land in a jumbled heap together, breathless, panting. Our eyes meet; I can see the desire in my heart reflected back at me through your hot gaze, and you reach for me…

I can’t bring myself to do it. My hoof is raised above your door. I put it down and turn away.

I distract myself by forming storms over a valley in the mountains by Canterlot. Intense concentration goes into the frustrated black stratus plumes at my hooves, which convert all the fluffy cumulus I touch into crying gray puffs. I fire energy into the weather and watch jagged lightning rage from cloud to cloud, accomplishing nothing. After so many visits the flowers and grass have all washed away and the land is now nothing but soupy mud that cracks and flakes in the sun. It makes me feel bad, but it'll grow back.

The stories that mention a desire so strong that it is physically painful are not exaggerating. Thinking of you tugs at the core of my being, twisting until it hurts and I'm not sure whether to scream in agony or moan in ecstasy. I want you so badly it keeps me up at night. My longing begs me to walk around the circular hallway in the dead of night and wake you. Instead I toss and turn under the covers until I’m resolved to another night flight around the moonlit towers of Canterlot.

There’s a Wonderbolt derby, but the magic instructor holds you back because you couldn't stay awake through her lesson last night, and after that Blaze is supposed to teach you the basics of fighting during flight. The rest of us are placed in brackets for the derby. I race alone. It’s funny: before this, I never felt like I was alone while surrounded by crowds of ponies, but now that I know you’re not here it is different. It’s okay, I suppose, it’s just not the same. I love having you nearby.

Some nights I pass you in the hallway. You look so tired. Your wings are frayed from stress, and I’m willing to bet you’re losing feathers over Spitfire’s intense orientation training, especially now that she and Rapidfire are both flying with you to make sure you get the best. In the mornings you are part of the all-team drill, but I can tell from the way you stand in position that you don’t have time for me right now. Please don’t close me off like that…

I have to be satisfied by watching you from afar while we’re on the field. Your mane and tail get tangled in a jagged mess you don’t bother to comb out. It gives you a wild appeal, not to mention the way the curve of your body moves when you take those powerful strides across the arena, or when you’re preparing to take off. Even when your wings are in bad shape they’d make a griffin jealous. I keep this to myself because I know you don’t like it when I comment on how attractive you are.

“Oh come on Soarin’, you’re making me feel like a piece of lettuce or some good looking desert you just wanna eat.”

I snort at the possible interpretation of that last word before I lean in close. “Dash, you’re anything but a vegetable. Do you know of a salad that could pull off a Sonic Rainboom?”

You shoot me the classic Dash smirk and push my face away with your wing.

What I really love isn't the way you look, though. It’s everything else: the way you make me laugh, the fact you’ll go on whatever ridiculous quest I make up and play games with me. You’re steady and confident, and since I met you you've perfected the ability to bask in glory without wallowing in it. When you’re causing trouble your eyes glitter. I can’t get enough of that feisty streak. You match me stride for stride in ability, and even though our competitions can get a little rough sometimes, it feels good to be up against somepony I trust so completely.

And oh, sweet moon beams, the sensation of your touch isn't even something I can put into coherent thought.

On a better day you set aside some alone time for us. We fly over to the city but there’s tension and I know I’m not the only one who senses it, because you turn your head mid-flight to look at me with fiery magenta eyes. Forget lunch. As soon as we’re tucked away in the sky where no one can see us I’m caught up in your embrace. The feathers in our wings fold together. One blue flows into another in striped bands and I’m kissing you right now because I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait again and oh Celestia you feel so good I can’t stop.

My legs are trembling. Finally I have to quit to catch my breath and for a while it’s just the two of us together like that.

I’m content to be here with you, quiet, but after a while I feel you shift. We’re face to face and you move your head to one side so you can see my back well enough to reach around me with your wings. The tips flutter lightly over the space between my shoulders and then press softly, barely massaging that sweet spot. You’re teasing me on purpose. I try to wriggle so I get more of the massage but you won’t let me have it – instead making a low mmm sound in the back of your throat that drives me absolutely wild. You keep fluttering your feathers over that spot and kiss the side of my neck.

“Nnnndash." No Dash, stop; if you don’t stop I don’t know what I’ll do. Your wingtips run down my back slowly, and I feel your neck pressing closer as you reach farther, farther. Please, oh Thunder, please stop.

I feel your chest rise as you take a steadying breath and then you pull away. Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh why did you stop.

“Shoot Soarin’, I’m going to be late.”

No, stay here with me.

I say nothing.

The mock low moan you made that day haunts me for nights afterwards.

Lightning Streak brings a new mare home. He always tries to be discreet about it, but I catch the two of them just as they sneak in for the night. It didn't used to bother me much, but now I hate how easy it is for him.

“Just throw her down and do it, Soarin’,” Lightning Streak says.

I want to, oh believe me, I want to. But I've never loved someone so much in my entire life. I want this to be right.

Ponies think that Wonderbolts have to do everything fast. The truth is when so much of your life is based on speeding through everything, you realize there are times when it is worth every second to slow down. So tonight as the colors in our manes mingle while we stand in front of my room with our heads pressed close, I think, 'Not yet.'

Even though it kills me I whisper goodnight into your ear before I pull away and slip into my room, closing the door behind me.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Not yet.