Chapter 1
First Blush starring Soarin and Dashie
The early morning sun was beating down on Soarin's face when he finally awoke. He smacked his lips, his mouth thick and sticky from all the sarsaparilla he'd drunk last night with Rainbow Dash...
His eyes flashed open.
Rainbow Dash?
All he could see was a rainbow coloured mane, tufted and dishevelled from both sleep and...
Uh oh.
As the light spilled into his eyes, making him groan, the events of the previous evening came spilling back - and his heart took sudden soaring flight into the stratosphere. He and Rainbow Dash had... they'd...!
Looking back, it had all been Spitfire's fault. She'd insisted on coming to Ponyville to practice the Fantastic Filly Flash for their next show, and who better to help them but the inventor of the manoeuvre herself, Rainbow Dash? And after hours of practice, as they egged each other on to increasingly dangerous and devil-may-care tricks....
At the thought of Spitfire, Soarin's heart came suddenly crashing back down, spinning as if in a death-spiral. What if she found out about what had happened between him and Dash? If things went bad between them, and the other Wonderbolts found out about their relationship - they'd been keeping it secret for months now - one or both of them would be out of the team for sure!
But Spitfire had never said that their relationship was an exclusive one. And anyway, hadn't she been the one who'd cheated first? He'd seen her through the window of her trailer, her muzzle against the neck of that pretty orange-maned filly, biting her coat and making her gasp, her forehooves sliding across her.... what was her name again? Carrot Top? Well, Spitfire had always had a thing for Earth Ponies - probably 'cause they were the ones who got most wing-struck by her. And Spitfire did love them wing-struck - it made them like putty in her hooves.
Soarin's heart had been broken by the sight - and he'd left the trailer without going inside. Confrontation had never been his style. But then Dash had found him flying alone over the Whitetail Woods, and she'd invited him back to her cloud home for a few shots of sarsaparilla, and one thing had led to another and...
Soarin smiled. Well, wasn't he a Wonderbolt, after all? Risk taking came with the territory! Risk taking and ego and confidence! Ha! He had them all, just as Spitfire had them, and Dash, and in spades as well. He should just kick back, stop worrying and see where the slipstream took him.
He brought his forelegs around the still-sleeping Dash's body - he loved that feeling of softness covering the taut-and-terrific muscle that only athletic fillies had - and he buried his muzzle in her mane, smelling the warm scent that had pooled in her hair as she'd slept, enveloped in the cloud-bed's warmth. Dash murmured but didn't wake up - so Soarin started to kiss the back of her neck through her mane, and his fore-hooves slipped down from her chest, down across her belly and her breasts and along the sides of her hind legs, and she suddenly turned over and considered him with her deep-rose eyes.
"Hey," she said, yawning hugely.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked, leaving his hooves resting on her hips.
"Like I spent last night doing multiple Sonic Rainbooms," she smiled.
"Never heard them called that!" said Soarin with a chuckle. He leaned forward and kissed her hard on the lips, but she shied away.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I've gotta brush my teeth," she replied. "My breath stinks."
"Aw, forget all that stuff!" He slipped on top of her, and started kissing her on the neck and behind her ear, making her giggle.
"Hey, stoppit!" Dash pushed his muzzle away. "Hey, haven't you got training with the 'Bolts this morning?"
"Lettem wait," said Soarin, suddenly hot. With Dash's bed-warm body beneath him and her half-asleep eyes, hooded with heavy lashes, looking so uncharacteristically innocent, he was getting wound up. "They won't care if I'm a bit late."
"Oh yeah?" Dash looked up at him sideways, a half-smile on her face. "You sure about that, Soarin? That doesn't sound like Spitfire to me..."
Soarin frowned. "Now you're teasing me, Dash," He gently put his weight down on her legs with his own, pinning her down. And then he went back and kissed her a second time - but this time he didn't let her pull away, and after a short struggle she was kissing him back, her tongue hot and salty from sleep and sweet from the sarsaparilla they'd shared last night.
Breathless, Dash was the one who broke the kiss at last. "Wow. Feels like you've still got some race left in you!"
"I've ALWAYS got race left in me," said Soarin hugely. "Oh, and pie."
Dash laughed, but as Soarin preened himself, she took the opportunity to push back, and she unpinned herself and rolled on top of him.
"Now that's what I wanted to hear," she said, her mane hanging around her face like a totally dishevelled rainbow halo.
Soarin felt the weight of her body pressing down on his own, and he gasped. "Oh yeah baby!"
"'Oh yeah... baby?' You sweet talking stallion!" Dash kissed him and then leaned back, rubbing her haunches against his.
Soarin wreathed Dash's tongue with his own, tasting salty sweetness again. The sarsaparilla had been to blame for what had happened - well, no that was an excuse. There had been an insistence with Dash, and Soarin had found himself unable to resist the gorgeous mare's advances. He hadn't tried very hard, though. In fact, the same part that had got him in trouble so many times before was up to its old tricks, and Dash's eyes opened up in pleased surprise.
"One kiss, and THAT'S how you react?" she giggled. "Ya big softie!"
"It was a hell of a kiss," laughed Soarin, grabbing her around the waist and beginning to move her so that he could put himself inside.
"Hey, wait a second! Let me do it," Dash reached down between them and with a gentle hoof she guided Soarin into her with a gasp.
Enveloped in heat and wetness, Soarin's eyes went wide, and his mouth opened. "Dashie, I..."
Dash chuckled. "You know, Soarin - used to be only Pinkie would call me Dashie." She lifted herself up and slid back down onto him, leisurely at first.
Soarin gasped. "Uh! You...you don't like 'Dashie'?"
"I like hearing it from you," she breathed with sudden heat. She closed her eyes and lifted her head skyward as she began to roll her haunches against Soarin's in earnest. Dash squeezed her eyes shut, her mouth slipped open and she began to pant softly.
After a while, she began to slow down. Making love in the morning was always like this for her - the spirit was totally willing, but the flesh - well, after a bottle of sarsaparilla, it had its weak moments. Usually she'd just prefer to sleep. But with Soarin here, she...
"You look tired, Dashie," he said suddenly. "Let me take over!" And with a quick push, he had her on her back and he was on top of her, his lips glued against hers, his forehooves lifted up to cradle her head and stroke her rainbow mane, which was rapidly becoming damp with sweat as the sharp rays of the early morning sun beat down on them.
Dash looked up at him, and then up at the blue expanse of cloudless sky above them. "Uh... I... you know, I... uh... always wondered..." Her words were interspersed with groans as he began to thrust into her. "Oh! If Celestia.... ever watches.... watches us doing this kinda thing..."
"What? This 'kinda' thing? You mean rutting?" Soarin's thrusts were no longer leisurely but were steadily growing quicker.
Dash thumped him on the chest with a fore-hoof. "You! What a thing to say!"
"What, 'rutting'?" Soarin laughed. "What should I say then?"
"Making love," replied Dash, blushing.
"Well, OK. THIS is lovemaking," said Soarin, bringing himself out slowly and back in again until he was fully inside her, leaning over and kissing her deeply, his tongue slipping across her teeth as she gasped against his mouth. But then he broke the kiss and twisting her body around, his athlete's strength making it seem effortless, flipping her onto her stomach and starting to thrust into her from behind without missing a beat.
"Now... THIS ... is.... RUTTING!" he said through gritted teeth, beads of sweat rolling down from his mane, across his temples and down to his neck. He knew Dash liked this position best - in their frenzied coupling last night he'd tried all of his techniques, but sometimes, just like in aerobatics, it was the old traditional moves that worked best - and he took hold of her tail and wound it around one hoof while he slid the other underneath her stomach, running it over her breasts, the nipples hard in her excitement, and down to the wetness between her legs, which he tantalised with feather gentle strokes as he continued to push himself inside her.
Dash couldn't articulate anything now - being under Soarin's control like this, feeling the waves of pleasure pulsing through her body just like the air felt across her coat when she flew, was exhilarating, and she let him take control, only moving to push her rump back at him with every thrust, trying to get even more of him inside herself. She could feel him getting close now, the thrusting getting steadier, the imminent rhythm that meant a stallion was slowly reaching the point of no return - the terminal velocity when nothing would stop him from making her his.
And at the thought of his excitement her own swelled up as well, and she felt hotter and hotter and even more swollen, as if all the life, the blood, the energy were being drawn to that single point, making it as hard as diamond and as sensitive as a raw nerve. And as Soarin thrust violently against her, he slapped against that point, and jolts of pleasure undulated through her body, as if she were reaching those high speeds where the friction of the air felt like flames licking against her coat, and she wondered whether the air itself would catch fire.
Then Soarin became harder still, she knew he was about to come - and as the first wave of liquid fire spilled into her she came as well.
"Soarin is MINE, Spitfire," Dash thought, the violence of her desire making her repeat the words as the peaking of her pleasure drove all other thoughts from her. She bit her lip until blood seeped into her mouth, but in the moment it was sublimated to the most excruciating pleasure. "You don't own him anymore. He's MINE."
She'd been joking earlier with Soarin - but climax with him WAS just like the Sonic Rainboom. It had the same dizzying increase in speed, the same burning anticipation and tense frustration and the same final, almost frightening, exhilaration, the same waves of sensation that spread out as she smashed through the barrier, and the same kaleidoscope of rainbow colours that spiralled out before her eyes, all followed by a feeling of falling through a beautiful, endless white emptiness where she forget who and where she was, and she was just a single point of exquisite joy, nameless and alone, floating in space.
Her own cries melded together with Soarin's own, and as his final surges filled her, he slumped over her back, and she collapsed under his weight onto the cushiony cloud beneath her. And there they lay, as Celestia's sun continued to beat down upon their perspiring and panting bodies, and Dash wondered, half-dreaming, half-awake, whether the Princess truly, truly hadn't been watching them, and whether she was shaking her head, a gentle mocking smile on her immortal face.
Soarin had slid off her now and was on his back, his eyes shut, a dopey smile stuck on his soft and simple features. He was already snoring hugely, and as Dash snuggled up to him, the wetness of her coat mingling against his, she nuzzled her muzzle into his neck, a single tear trickling down from a deep-rose coloured eye.
"Do you know I love you, you big sap?" she whispered. And then she turned over onto her own back and fell back asleep as well.
THE END