Your Biggest Fan
“I told you this was a bad idea.”
Flim jabbed at his plate---a smoked kelp crepe on a dill-scented foam. In any other restaurant, it would have cost them through the nose, but Flam had been fortunate enough to “trip” on the carpet on the way in, ensuring them both an appetizer on the house.
“So what if it is?”
“The serving staff are giving us the stink-eye,” Flam muttered as he leaned over his plate.
“So?”
“So I don’t know how much longer I can fake this sore knee!”
Flim smiled as he swirled his wine around. “I can kick you if you like.”
“I don’t see why you’re so happy,” he said through a mouthful. “We barely made enough to cover the travel expenses.”
“You’re forgetting this.”
As soon as he’d placed the wallet on the table, his brother smashed a hoof over it and swept it away.
“Would you please be more discreet?!”
“Why? It’s not like he’s here.”
“He could be any minute now!”
He chuckled when he saw Flam’s eyes furtively darting around the restaurant. “Brother of mine, you have to loosen up a little. One of these days your paranoia’s going to turn from a charming eccentricity to a full-blown disorder.”
Flam leaned over the table so that his twin could hear his hiss: “Look, it was your stupid idea to pickpocket somepony with friends in high places---what if he comes after us?”
“He won’t,” Flim said easily. “All that royal inbreeding made him a little dense. He won’t put two and two together until we’re long gone.”
With a labored sigh, Flam leaned back into his seat, sliding the wallet into the outside sleeve of their luggage. “I wish I had your optimism.”
“I thought you liked being a pessimist.”
“I do!” He smeared some of the sauce around his plate. “It means I’m either right, or pleasantly surprised. You optimists, though… you’re always disappointed.”
“That’s not true. I hope for the best, but I plan for the worst.”
Flim’s eyebrow raised when his brother suddenly slid down in his seat; he grabbed his hat off the back of his chair and held it over the right side of his face. “Fuck!”
“What? What is it?”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Flim? It’s not paranoia if I’m right!” Flam grabbed Flim’s chin with his magic and jerked his head to the side. “Look!”
They both stared at the table, as were many of the other patrons, some more subtly than others; seated around the large booth were seven pegasi, chatting and laughing with each other while passing a pitcher back and forth. In the dim light, it took Flim a few seconds to realize they were…
“The Wonderbolts!” Flam whispered. “See?”
“Brother, please. They’re not even in uniform. They’re obviously off-duty.”
“They could be undercov---“
A hoof was at his lips before he could finish. “No,” Flim said, “I’m not going to hear another word. We came here to have a good time, and I’m not going to let you sour it. Besides”---he leaned back and gestured to his right, then his left---“Look around us! We’re staying in a nice place, eating good food; I think Lady Luck may have finally started to smile on us!”
“’Finally’ being the operative word.” He still wasn’t smiling as he refilled their glasses, but a bit of the gloom seemed to have lifted off his face. “We’ve been on a real losing streak since Ponyville.”
“…That wasn’t all bad.”
Flam raised his eyes from his plate, but his brother didn’t meet his gaze; he was looking off to the side with… was that a dreamy sort of expression on his face? He felt his brow knit. Flim had been acting a little odd these past few months, and no amount of nagging or prying seemed to dislodge whatever he had on his mind. Just as he was drawing the breath to speak again, his brother rose from his seat with a nod of his head.
“You don’t really buy wine, do you? You rent it. I’ll be right back.”
He made his way to the washroom without looking back; he’d seen that curious look on Flam’s face, and he just wasn’t in the mood for an interrogation. He closed the door and sighed, running a hoof through his mane. He just didn’t get it---as much as he loved his brother, he couldn’t understand why he seemed to have an inverse relationship between their success and how happy he was at the end of the day. I really shouldn’t have said that aside about Ponyville, he thought with an internal wince. Years ago, after a certain disaster nearly tore the FlimFlam brothers apart, they’d promised there’d be no more secrets between them---and yet he still hadn’t figured out how to tell Flam about the night he’d spent with Applejack. How in the hell do you bring that up in conversation? I have a feeling he’d be furious…
A light, airy sound broke him out of his thoughts, and he noticed for the first time he wasn’t alone. Another stallion was at the urinals, whistling to himself and tapping his free hoof against the wall. Flim had made it a few paces into the room when he stopped, startled, and let out a gasp; he hadn't realized who it was until he caught a glimpse of that distinctive cutie mark. Soarin’! The Soarin’! The first lieutenant of the Wonderbolts, twice voted their ‘Most Eligible Bachelor’, and---Flim gulped---the inspiration for many of the nights he’d spent with his hooves tucked under the covers, alone. He felt his hindlegs quaver a little. It was one thing to see him in glossy promotional posters, but something entirely different in real life. For one thing, those strong withers looked much more defined in the flickering fluorescent light of the bathroom---
He glanced up from his business, noticed Flim staring at him, and smiled weakly. Flim coughed, and quickly made his way to a urinal a few down from the pegasus. Celebrities hate being pestered by fans, especially when they're got their dicks hanging out, he reminded himself. Besides, what would I have for him to sign?
Flim pressed his hoof against the wall as he leaned over the urinal. What a pity he’d have to meet his celebrity crush in such an awkward situation. He had to keep his breathing steady as he unsheathed himself, and it was another few seconds before his bladder relaxed. His heartbeat was thudding in his chest so hard he was sure Soarin’ could hear it. How many times had he dreamt about running his hooves through those lush, thick feathers, groaning as Soarin’s’ strong jaw pressed into the crook of his neck…?
Whoa, boy, he thought as his prick shifted in his hoof. Take it easy. Get a boner now and you’ll not only humiliate yourself, but probably get splashed in the face to boot.
Still… so long as he could keep himself calm, it wouldn’t hurt to ponder a little bit, could it?
Pretending he was scratching his ear, he brought a hoof up to the side of his face to hide his sideways glance. Dammit! Soarin' had already finished and tucked himself back in. He'd just have to keep using his imagination.
Speaking of imagination... Flam gave him a hard time about it, but he did like to read trashy celebrity magazines from time to time. He remembered some of the interviews Soarin' had given in the past, and how upfront and honest he was; he'd even admitted to escaping an abusive home when he was younger, which had made him a bit of a spokespony for underprivileged foals. The only thing he'd ever been dodgy about, however, was his love life. Would there ever be a Mrs. Soarin'? he'd often been asked, and despite the number of mares practically---and, sometimes, literally---throwing themselves at him, he never seemed to have a real marefriend. He'd usually just laugh when asked about it, and say something about liking the 'bachelor lifestyle'.
Flim had a pretty good idea what that was code for.
There had been a mini-scandal a few months ago when the Royal Guards did a sweep of a bathhouse in Las Pegasus, and Soarin' had been found at the front desk. He wasn't arrested, since he claimed he was lost, and had confused the place for a legitimate hotel. The clerk backed up his story, saying he'd only asked how much a room was. But it had caused a few rumours to spread… apparently what happened in Las Pegasus didn’t stay there, at least not for celebrities. Two days later, Soarin' rather conveniently showed up to a party with a shiny new supermodel clinging to him, but that so-called 'affair' didn't even make it to the weekend. The reason for the break-up? She smoked, and he was allergic. Convenient, indeed.
Flim shook the last drops off and flushed the urinal, glancing over his shoulder. Soarin' was fixing his mane in the mirror, and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave. So, gathering his courage, he sauntered up to the sink right next to him and turned on the taps.
"Hi there," he said with a smile, hoping the nervousness didn’t show on his face.
"Uh..." Soarin' looked at him, first through the mirror, then directly. "Hi?"
Keep it simple. Warm him up. "Nice place here, isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"You must get to stay in fancy hotels all the time," he said, turning the water off and drying his hooves with a quick blast of magic.
Soarin' grinned sheepishly. "Oh, uh, t-this place isn't that fancy."
"Are you kidding? They have bowls of orchids in the lobby, and bellhops with velvet uniforms! This is much better than the places I usually have to frequent." He leaned against the counter, still smiling. "I've stayed in places that rent by the hour."
Something flashed across his face. It was quick, but Flim had caught it---that sudden realization as to what, exactly, was being discussed. "Y-you don't say."
"I do. You know the type? Places that rent rooms, but have saunas and pools and hot tubs..."
Soarin’s eyes flicked down at his hooves; the water was still running, and had turned cold. After a moment, he glanced up again. Flim was still staring, still smiling. Admittedly, Soarin' seemed a little apprehensive, but Flim recognized the look on his face: Am I being cruised?
After keeping their eyes locked for a few long seconds, he slowly eased his line of sight over to one of the stalls, then back again. He raised his eyebrows, and the other stallion blushed. Okay. They'd made the connection. All there was left to do was lead the way.
One last check in the mirror to make sure he had nothing in his teeth, and Flim turned away from the sinks. As he passed by the pegasus' side, he made sure to lean slightly to his right, just enough to gently brush his skinny shoulder against the muscular one, and grinned when he felt the feather-tips of an unfolding wing. Bingo.
He hadn't even managed to fully close the stall door when it slammed open again, and Soarin’ pushed his way in, blushing and blustering.
"H-hey," he mumbled.
Trying play it cool, he started with "Hey, baby. So, you're looking for some fun toni---?!"
He didn't get the chance to finish. Flim grunted as the back of his head banged against the stall, his mouth suddenly full of a hot, prodding tongue. The kiss was just a mess of clumsy lips smashing all over the place, and with a tickle in his belly he was reminded of his first time. The mix of eagerness and innocence was making him tingle...
Flim let out a quiet moan when he felt a little slip of tongue dart around the corners of his mouth, along his cheek, and then on his neck. He tried to pull his partner closer, but Soarin’ instantly shot back.
He tried not to frown. "What's the matter?"
"I..." A hot blush crawled up the other stallion's cheeks. His eyes darted away. "I just..."
As gently as he could, Flim put a hoof on the tense shoulder in front of him, and pressed the side of his face against his new friend's. "Are you nervous?"
"Y-yeah, a little..." He glanced around surreptitiously, as if someone might see them. “We’re kinda, um, in public…”
"Shh. It's okay." Flim ruffled the spiky blue mane, flashing his kindest smile. "We're not really in public, you know. The door is closed."
There was true terror on his face. "You're not gonna tell anypony, are you?" he whispered.
This time he did frown. "Why would I?"
"Just... just please say you won't. Okay? Promise?"
"I promise," he said, holding a hoof to his heart. "Not a word to anypony. Your secret’s safe with me."
"O-okay," the pegasus answered breathlessly.
After a few quiet moments, Flim smirked and let his hooftip trace across the chiseled jaw. "Well? How do you want to---"
The hoof clapping down on the top of his head was startling, but he instinctively knew what it meant.
"Suck me," he murmured, pushing Flim down to his knees.
He let his hind legs buckle as he dropped to the grimy tiled floor, licking his lips at the vision unfolding in front of him. Damn! Apparently it was true what they said about stallions with wide wingspans! At least three inches bigger than his most generous fantasies…
The sky-blue stallion let out a rumbling moan when he felt that hot mouth slip up the inside of his thigh, and yelped a little when there was a brush of pursed lips across his balls. Flim carefully nipped at the crinkled flesh around the sheath, and then stroked the flat of his tongue up the burning-hot shaft.
"F-fuck," he whispered, bucking his hips forward.
Flim grinned and lapped up and around the tip, moaning a little when he tasted the pre-cum slipping out around his lips. "You like that, baby?" he purred, nuzzling against the sticky flare.
Soarin' was staring down at him with a kind of raw desperation he hadn't seen in a long time. "Please," he whispered.
"Mmm..." He pulled back, placing a little kiss on the tip of the cock in front of him. Before he could say anything, Flim opened his mouth---and his throat---and bobbed down as far as he could.
"Unh!"
He chuckled to himself when he heard the pegasus clapping his hooves against the stall. It had taken him years of practice, and he was rightfully proud of his ability to deepthroat. He groaned when he felt his vocal chords part around the intrusion.
"Ah, shit," came the mumbles from above him. "Suck me!"
He swallowed a few times against the cock in his throat, then pulled back, teasing his tongue up and around the shaft as it slid out of his muzzle, paying special attention to the medial ring and the vein that ran across it.
The pegasus bucked his hips, gripping Flim's mane. "Ah! Oh! Suck me, you bitch!"
Even with his voicebox constricted, it was hard not to laugh. How adorable that this shy little bottom was trying to dominate him. With a few more bobs, Flim managed to get his muzzle pressed down against his partner's pubic bone. He sniffed deeply, bringing a hoof up to rub the heavy balls that were now shoved up against his chin; he could smell the sharp tang of soap, as well as a briny undertone of sweat and musk. As gingerly as he could, he grazed the edges of his teeth along the hard flesh, toying the sheath with his lips. He cracked one eye open, trying to permanently singe every tiny detail into his memory. He still couldn’t believe it. He was sucking Soarin’s cock. Literally a dream come true---
Flam’s going to MURDER me.
No matter. This was well worth it. He kicked himself internally when he realized he’d missed out on taking a mouthful of the fluffy blue feathers first; how long had it been since he’d been with a pegasus? Just as he began to wonder if he still remembered how to preen correctly, the cock in his mouth surged, and he felt a hoof tap against the base of his horn.
"I---!" The pegasus coughed, and jerked his hips. "I, I, I'm...! I'm gonna---!"
Well that was fast. The balls against his chin jumped, and Flim just barely managed to open his throat before the first spurt of cum shot forth. He tilted his head back with practiced ease and let the next few shots slide down. With loud, lewd slurping noises, he sucked back on the cock, nursing out the last salty ropes.
"Mmm-mmm!" he moaned as he gulped it all down, choking just a little. Oh, it had been ages since he'd been filled up like this; he'd almost forgotten the sweet, bleachy taste at the back of his mouth as it poured back against his gullet. With one final mouthful, he let his hoof drop from Soarin's balls to his own, and he rubbed the wet tip of his cock against a scruffy clump of fetlocks.
He heard a breathy "Oh fuck yeah," from above him, and pulled away, grinning and wiping his mouth with the back of his hoof.
"Mmm, baby. Delicious. Was that good for you?" he purred.
The pegasus looked down with a bleary grin. "Oh yeah," he said quietly. "I really needed that."
Flim rose on unsteady legs, and placed a sweet kiss on the sweaty cheek before him. "Your cock tastes so good..."
"T-thanks," he said. His little smile was so cute that Flim couldn't help but return it.
"It was my pleasure, baby," he answered with a nuzzle.
Flam picked the last of his brother's food off his plate, and slammed his fork down. He pulled out “his” pocketwatch, and his frown deepened. Twelve minutes? What’s taking him so long? Although it wasn't unlike Flim to dine and dash, he'd never do it to his own brother---and certainly not after ordering another round. He waved the waiter over, irritably.
"Look," he snapped, "Can you go into the washroom and find out why my brother's taking so long?"
The waiter's expression wavered with nervousness. "We, uh, we have had some complaints about the potato salad, but I assure you we've met all the health inspector's regulations---"
Neither of us ordered that, you idiot. "Could you please just go check on him? I don't want to leave our luggage here unattended."
He paused, and then tilted his head in a well-practiced bow. "Of course, sir."
"Come back in less than five minutes and your tip goes up to twenty!" he called after him. He poured the last of the wine into his glass, and then emptied Flim’s as well. You'd better have a good explanation for this, brother of mine, he thought with a scowl, and took a gulp. Don't make me do something I'll regret.
The pegasus cleared his throat, and his blush deepened. "Um... I....I'm Soarin'," he said with a shy smile.
I know. Again, he petted his cheek. "Nice to meet you, Soarin'."
"What's your name?"
"No."
"That's a stupid name."
Flim pursed his lips. "I... just never give my name out when I do this."
Soarin' cocked his head. "You do this a lot?"
He looked away. "Er... no. Not really." No, he wasn't really a slut. Cruising was fine from time to time, but he tended to prefer knowing his partner’s surname before exchanging fluids. A bit of affection and intimacy spiced things up, and made another pony’s embrace feel that much sweeter…
“You just seem so worldly,” Soarin’ mumbled without meeting his eye. “I figured you’d be the kind who’d, y’know, just see this as another conquest.”
Flim didn’t answer. He didn't want to mention the fact that he hadn't gotten laid in months---and he certainly wasn't about to admit that the last pony he'd held tight against him had been a mare.
That perfect little mare with her soft, sweet, incredible, mind-blowing body...
He shook his head vigorously. Dammit! He'd promised himself long ago to stop thinking about Applejack, and yet she just kept popping up in his head.
"You okay?"
"Er, yes. I'm fine." Flim leaned back against the opposite wall, adjusting his hips when he felt the toilet paper roll press into his back. With a quick gesture downwards, he said "Care to return the favour?"
Hooves pressed against his cutie marks, but instead of getting to his knees, Soarin' braced himself against his side of the stall and forcefully turned Flim around.
"Hey!"
He felt a puff of hot breath wash over his neck, followed by a bite.
"Watch it with the teeth!"
Soarin' grunted as he took a curl of Flim's mane in his teeth and yanked. He yelped as his head snapped back, his hindquarters slapping against the stallion behind him.
"Hey, whoa, hold it, I---"
A hoof clapped over his open mouth, and before he could bite down on it, he heard a little squeak from behind him; a second later, he realized what Soarin's trained ears had picked up on before his: the sound of the lavatory door creaking open.
There was the clack of hooves on tiles, and then... nothing. Just the whispery brush of Soarin's feathers puffing out in fear. Flim swallowed around the hoof in his mouth, even with his pulse pounding in his throat.
'I was so lucky this brave stallion found me before I choked to death!' No, that's idiotic. This looks nothing like the Neighmlich manoever. And why would I be eating in a bathroom stall?!
"Hello?"
As best he could, Flim craned his head back, and met Soarin's eyes. Didn't look like he had any bright ideas, either. In fact, it looked like he barely remembered how to breathe.
"Anypony in here?"
Why did he recognize that voice? Flim looked down, and noiselessly moved his hindlegs back so they were flush against Soarin's; if whoever was outside looked under the stall, there was at least a chance he'd only see one set of hooves. His own tail was too short to be visible from below, and Soarin's wings weren't flared enough to show. Even though he had an erection, they technically weren't doing anything illegal at this very moment... This was salvageable...
"Huh."
Then, to their shared relief, the door swung shut as the pony left.
Flam could feel his ears folding back when he saw the look on the waiter's face. "Well? Is my brother in there?"
"I'm pretty sure he is," he said as he relieved Flam of his empty plate.
"What's taking him so long?"
"Don't worry," he said with a wink. "I'm sure he'll be coming soon."
At first, he was confused---but then it suddenly hit him like a kick to the shin: I’m out here eating, and he’s in there getting a mouthful of an entirely different kind!
He slammed his hooves on the tabletop. “CELESTIA FUCKING DAMMIT, FLIM!!”
There was a startled cry from behind him, and a prim-looking older mare pulled her son up against her chest, blocking his ears. “Excuse me!” she said shrilly, “There are foals in here!”
“I---I’m sorry,” he muttered, sinking his face down against his balled-up hoof. Typical. Just fucking typical. Flim’s roving eye had been getting him in trouble for years, and he almost invariably expected Flam to come pick up the pieces. Does he have any clue how much it hurts getting my loneliness thrown back in my face time and time again?
The waiter’s voice snapped him out of his sulk: “Would you and your, uh, brother care to look at the dessert menu?”
His ears flicked up as an idea struck him. “No,” Flam said as he sat straighter. “No, thank you. Actually, I’d like to see the dinner menu again. And bring back the wine list.”
Soarin' slumped against his back and released both his mane and his mouth, panting heavily. "Shit, that was close."
"Too close."
He turned his head to the side and made a gagging noise. "You use hair gel?"
"Pomade, actually."
When Soarin' again pushed his hips against him, Flim swatted his side and snapped "What are you, stupid?! You can't just dive in there!"
"I know."
"Then what--?!"
He couldn't finish the question. Soarin' had sunk to his knees, and before Flim could stop it, his cheeks were pried apart. A hot puff of breath washed over his balls, and then he felt a little kiss against his perineum; his eyes flew open when that tongue curled up around his dock, wetting the roots of his tail, and then slid lower.... and lower.
"FUCK!" he screamed.
His hindlegs jolted even farther apart when he felt Soarin's lips planting teasing kisses against his pucker, and he moaned in his throat when something hot prodded against him. After a few choking seconds of shoving each other back and forth, he finally relented, and Soarin's tongue slid deep inside him.
"Ahh!" A leg jerked up reflexively when he felt flaring nostrils against his ass. The tongue inside him was rolling up and down, working the slippery walls of his insides until...
Flim's head bowed and he let out a howl. He didn’t even care who heard. Soarin' had found the sweet spot and was attacking it relentlessly. His knees began to wobble as he listened to the wet, dirty noises coming from behind him.
"Oh yeah..." he sighed. "That's it. Eat me. Eat my ass."
Soarin's hoof went between his legs to fondle his balls, and Flim began dripping eagerly all over the floor. He felt a slurpy kiss press against his ring, and then the pegasus pulled back. All Flim could vocalize was "Mmmhnf."
"You like that?"
"Mmf."
"Turn around, honey," he said with a heavy husk in his voice. "I wanna taste your cock."
He did as he was told, and his head clattered back against the stall. Oh, yes. Those sweet lips were just what he needed.
He may have acted as skittish as a geek on prom night, but Soarin’ was far more experienced than he’d let on. No virgin would know how to move his tongue like that, pressing up with the base while simultaneously teasing with the tip. It felt like his mouth had been molded just to fit the cock he was now taking---and taking like a champ. He couldn’t quite deepthroat, but he came pretty damn close, making up the difference with gentle brushes of his fetlocks. Flim was already chewing on the side of his hoof, his eyes squeezed shut as his hot sweat streamed down his face.
Soarin’ pulled back with a messy soft sound and slid his muzzle down the side of the shaft, his lips tugging at the skin. From the side, he took the medial ring in his mouth, laving at his with his tongue-tip before moving farther down. An open-mouthed kiss to the crease between thigh and body earned a stifled groan from above him, the sweat-soaked cock brushing against his cheek as it pulsed. As he reached up to run a hoof against the soft coat on Flim’s underbelly, he let his tongue swirl down to taste the delicate skin between the sheath and scrotum; after a few kisses to his balls, he sat back on his haunches and steadied the cock with one hoof, the other one rubbing arcs between his thighs. They were both shaking, and a light green crackle escaped Flim’s horn.
His hooded eyes looked dazed as he stared at Flim’s member, and poked his tongue out in time to catch a few dribbles of precum. “You must eat a lot of fruit,” he said with a grin on his slicked lips.
“Y-yeah.”
“Is that what your cutie mark means?”
“We can talk later,” he said between light breaths, and put a hoof on the back of Soarin’s head. “There’s something I’d rather see that mouth doing right now.”
“Heh! Of course.”
There was that endearing smile again, and Soarin’ took him in with a moan, the vibrations shooting through his bloodstream and straight into his brain. As if trying to prove himself, he pushed farther than he’d gone before, each downward stroke ending in a choke; his mane was making rustling noises as the bobbing got faster, flecks of sweat flying from the spikes, and even under the sounds of their sex Flim could hear the urgent, earnest little moans coming from somewhere deep in Soarin’s throat. His hoof was still in the damp blue mane, but he wasn’t pushing or forcing, just holding onto him, enjoying the feeling of closeness. He slid it to the side and used the underside to rub his ear, which made Soarin’ let out a happy, muffled nicker.
I’ve got to see him again, he thought through the fog of lust in his brain. This can’t be it. I’ve gotta have more.
He was tense, close---and then Soarin’ opened his shining eyes to gaze up at him just as he took him deep enough to gag. Their eyes locked, and for a few seconds Flim’s chest felt far too tight to even breathe.
It was all too much, and when he felt the tips of perfectly-preened pinion feathers caress his cutie marks, a blast of heat bloomed up in his gut, and he started coming hot and hard without so much as a second to warn Soarin’ first.
He didn’t seem to mind.
After a few moments of ragged breathing, the dancing gold sparks behind his eyelids started to dissipate, and he let his forehooves drop to his knees. Congratulations, flyboy, he thought as his heart beat returned to normal, You just made my Top Ten. If only I could brag about this…!.
Flim looked down, panting, at Soarin's pouty face. His lips were pressed firmly shut, his cheeks bulging outwards. He was making no sign of swallowing. Flim forced a smile and tried to ignore the pang of disappointment; although he always respected his lovers' choices, he truly loved watching his cum going down another's throat.
Soarin' pointed at his lips. "Mm-mmph?"
"It's okay," he mumbled as he gestured towards the toilet. "Just spit it out in there."
Hooves clapped around the sides of his mouth, and with a gasp Flim felt himself being shoved back against the stall; before he could make another move, Soarin's' lips met with his own, and then he jammed his tongue forward and pumped Flim's own cum back down his throat.
His tired cock twitched, but he couldn’t get hard again so soon. It didn’t matter---he was turned on beyond belief. He’d never been snowballed before, and he couldn’t believe someone as jumpy as Soarin’ would do something so daring. Their tongues swirled around each other as they both tasted his cum, and, as unhygienic as it was, he couldn’t even bring himself to care where those rough lips had just been. His whole body was shaking in the pegasus’ embrace, and when he pulled back, breaking the kiss, there was a sticky rope connecting their lips.
“Wow,” he breathed.
Soarin’ was beaming. “So… did you have fun?”
“Oh yeah,” Flim said, balancing himself against the stall. He felt dizzy. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. A Wonderbolt! He’d hit the fucking jackpot!
“I did too,” Soarin’ replied, and gently kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“You, uh…” He cleared his sore throat. Oh, he’d be feeling that in the morning. “You doing anything tonight?”
He hesitated, smoothing down his ruffled feathers, before answering “Uh, no, not really. Why?”
“Look, my brother’s waiting out there,” he said as he ran a hoof through his damp mane. “But, uh, if you don’t have plans…” It was so strange---even after all they’d just done, he suddenly felt a nervous flutter in his gut. “…I’m staying in room 1367.”
They stared at each other in silence, and after a few moments of looking at Soarin’s unreadable expression, the nervousness began to twist into anxiety. Did I push it too far?
“Or, er, you know, if you didn’t want ---you could---I didn’t mean---“
“I’d love to,” Soarin’ said with a smile that was bolder than anything Flim had seen yet. “Can I bring something?”
He had to keep his jaws together to prevent the sigh of relief escaping. “A-anything you want, baby.”
“Is eight o’clock okay?”
“Sure thing. I’ll be there.”
With one final kiss, Soarin’ gave him a joking salute as he pushed the stall door open. “I’ll see you then. Just, uh, wait a few minutes before you leave. If they see us come out together---“
“I know, I know! I’ve done this before!” Flim laughed as he turned the taps on again. “Here’s a tip: grab some breathmints!”
“Room 1367,” he repeated on the way out, “1367… 1367…”
Flim watched, a dizzy smile on his face, as Soarin’ peeked out the door before excusing himself with a final wave; then he turned to the mirror. “What are you grinning at, you son of a bitch?” he whispered. “You look like the cat who got the canary.”
And only a few hairs out of place! he thought as he ducked to splash water over his flushed face. This calls for a celebration! I hope Flam’s in the mood for another bottle of wine.
The smugness washed right off his face when he saw the empty table. “What the…”
Flim glanced around the restaurant, but his brother was nowhere to be seen. He couldn’t possibly have gone to the bathroom, and he wasn’t at the bar… it wasn’t until he sat down that he noticed Flam’s luggage was missing, as well. And so was Prince Blueblood’s mightily-stuffed wallet.
The waiter was approaching with a plate, hidden under a cloche, and there was something about his triumphant expression that made Flim feel uneasy. “Oh, good to see you again, sir! I’m so sorry your brother had to leave early.”
He raised an eyebrow. “’Had to leave’?”
“Yes. He said he had some pressing business.” He placed the plate in front of his customer, a smoky, earthy smell wafting out from under the cloche. “I must commend you on your excellent taste!”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your brother was so sorry he had to leave, but to make it up to you, he told me to serve you a nice plate of truffles.”
He could feel a mix of dread and fury settling inside him like a cold, hard boulder. “Truffles? You… you mean the chocolate kind, right?”
“Oh no, sir,” the waiter said smarmily as he lifted the cloche, “I mean the kind imported from Prance!”
He couldn’t respond... Not with his jaw hanging open like a beached fish.
“You’re lucky we’re selling them for only four hundred bits a pound,” the waiter continued, his eyes gleaming with visions of a hefty tip. “They normally go for twice that much. Oh! And your brother ordered you a bottle of our finest Dam Perignon, as well.”
“Did he now,” Flim snarled.
“Yes, indeed. He said you wouldn’t mind picking up the bill. Bon appétit!”
“Okay, Flam,” he whispered as the waiter sauntered away, “This means war.”