> Plucked From The Air
>  by Norm De Plume
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Chapter 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Contains the Following:

Crash Into Hello Bonus

Zap-Apple Bonus

Threesome Bonus

Why They Call Her Spitfire Bonus.


Which one?

Soarin' gazed at the display case, weighing his choices.  He felt like having pie, that much was certain, but he just couldn't decide.

Heck, he deserved a piece or two after behaving himself all week.  His Wonderbolts uniform wasn't tight around the barrel (not that it ever had been, really.  Just snug) and he'd been keeping himself in good shape.  Just because he had happened to accumulate more empty pie tins than usual, a couple of his teammates had gotten the wrong impression when they had seen him returning the tins for the half-bit refund.  As a result, Spitfire had been watching him at team meals and restricting his dessert intake for the last couple of weeks.  She had even gone so far as to ensure his picture was circulated amongst the more high-end bakeries in Hoofington.

This morning, however, she had eased the rules and allowed him to go bakery-hunting once again.  And so Soarin' had bolted out of his uniform immediately after flight practice and made for the shop just a block from his loft.

Now he found himself unable to choose between caramel apple and apple meringue.

“Take your time,” commented the white Earth Pony behind the counter, resting her chin on a hoof and looking clearly amused.  “I've seen that look before.  Been a while?”

He tried to eye her disapprovingly, but then his stomach betrayed him with a rumble.

“Uh-huh.”  Her smirk was impressive.  “Well, I recognize you from this photo your captain handed out.”  She tapped the picture on the side of the cash register.  “So you're either off the hook or sneaking around.  Given that you're sitting there so calmly, my bits are on 'off the hook'.”

Soarin' heaved a sigh.  It was humiliating when your food was everypony's business.  Especially when it came to pastry.  “Aren't you supposed to be making a sale?”

Eyes still dancing with amusement, she leaned even farther out over the counter to peer down into the display case.  “The meringue's the freshest of the two.”  Okay, she was good, knowing which pies he'd been looking at even though they were on lower shelves.  “It's easy to lick up.  The caramel's pretty good, but your muzzle will be sticky for ages.  That one's best kept for a third date.”

Ignoring her eyebrow waggle, Soarin took his money bag out from beneath his wing and shoved the necessary five bits across.  “Apple meringue it is!”

She brought it up to him with one of the baker's tongs that Earth Ponies used and he clamped his teeth into the softer, insulated 'bite-guard' part of the tin.  He could feel the pie's warmth near his chin and gleefully inhaled the scent of baked apples beneath the meringue.  Now that was fresh.

Tail high, Soarin' trotted out of the bakery, eyes hooded in pleasure as he anticipated digging in once he was back in his loft.  He quickly checked the skies to figure out Pegasus air traffic and, seeing nopony in range, unfurled his wings so he could perform a standing takeoff.

The blow on his shoulder was sudden, rocking his head back and breaking his grip on the tin.  Oh, no.  His pie!  Even as he was falling, Soarin' snapped at his snack as it flew up, but missed it by inches.  Then the pavement slammed into his hip and he felt a scrape against one ear.  “Ahh!”  His pie!

He wrenched himself over onto his back and there was a yelp from close by, somewhere down by his hind legs, but he had eyes only for his now-slowly rotating pastry.  He could see the meringue threatening to fly off in all directions and he whinnied in desperation, hooves drumming on the ground.  He could still catch it, if he could just get back up.

A tail whisked over his face.

Soarin' froze as his vision was suddenly obscured by blue and purple and the scent of a warm mare invaded his nose.  Desperately, he whuffed to try and blow it out of his eyes.  Another indignant yelp came and he felt a jab on his dock.  “Ooof!”  That woke him up and he scrabbled desperately to get out from beneath whoever was lying on him.  As he tried to dodge that whipping tail, he could now see that his pie was plummeting to the ground and he was helpless.  “Nooooooo!”

Then a green glow enveloped the tin and Soarin' watched as his pie slowly descended to hover a few inches overhead.  A small dollop of escaped meringue landed on the pavement just shy of his nose.

A mint-green unicorn nudged that teasing tail aside and peered down at him with bright amber eyes.  “Are you all right?”

He'd been saved by a unicorn.  His pie had been saved by a unicorn!  Blinking, Soarin' considered his situation.  “I think so.  What happened?”

She gave an apologetic grin.  “Sorry, but my fillyfriend wasn't paying attention and tripped.  Can I get her off you now so she doesn't elbow you again?  I promise that nothing will happen to your pie.”

Soarin' glanced down and found a cream-coloured flank awfully close to his muzzle.  A triple cutie mark of candy wrappers intrigued him, but he looked past that to see a very unimpressed Earth mare glowering back at him.  So this was what had run into him.  There were tears in her eyes and he hoped she hadn't been hurt when they'd collided.  “Umm... yeah.  Are you all right?”

She snuffled softly and nodded, even as her unicorn friend gently untangled the two of them from each other and got everyone back onto all four hooves.  Around them, curious onlookers began dispersing as the entertainment was obviously over.

“I'm Lyra,” the unicorn said, tugging her trembling fillyfriend closer so other ponies could resume walking around them.  “And this would be Bon-Bon, who is very sorry that she ran into you,”  She bobbed her head gently and his pie shimmied a little.  “I should give you this back and we can just get out of your way.”

Before she could float it back over to him, the Earth Pony from Tasty Pastries poked her head out the door.  “Is everypony all right, Mr. Soarin'?”

He nodded, even as he unfurled his wings and eyed them for shredded feathers.  “Yeah, we're fine.  My pie's fine, too.”  He looked up, ready to bite down on the tin once again and trot off, but then he saw that Lyra was suddenly trembling.  “Ummm ... or not?”

“Soarin'?” she asked.  “A Pegasus?  As in, 'Wonderbolts' Soarin'?”  She clapped her forehooves over her muzzle with a “meep”.  His pie plummeted as her magic flickered and went out and Soarin' hastily dove for it with a frantic cry.  “Oh, Bon-Bon, you mowed down a Wonderbolt!  Rainbow Dash is going to park a thundercloud over our home for this.”

Getting back up to his feet yet again, with his pie now firmly planted on his back and his wings raised to keep it steady, Soarin took a second look at the two mares in front of him.  They were both really over-reacting to a simple bump and it was confusing him.  If ponies who were Wonderbolt fans ran into him, they would be gushing about the whole thing.  And while these two seemed to recognize him, they were both afraid.  Or something, given how upset they looked.

Then he realized he'd seen this before, after teammates had had near-misses with each other or the ground.  Something had happened before Bon-Bon had butted him and both mares were in shock.  Something protective flared in him and he moved forward even as Lyra continued babbling nonsense about being banished to some place called the Everfree Forest.

“It's all right,” he said, nickering at them both and furling a wing down to display his pie.  “You saved my pie and I'm really grateful.  Can I thank you by sharing it with you both?  It's great comfort food.”

Lyra closed her mouth and stared at him.  She looked as if she were about to say something else, but it was Bon-Bon who finally spoke.  “Hey, Lyra.  Check out the hot-breath stallion who's trying to pick up the lesbians.  He can't even see how gay they are for each other!  Buster, you can just . . . just . . .”  Struggling for words, Bon-Bon abruptly dissolved into tears.

Soarin' stopped himself from backing up at the bitterness in her tone.  Oh, Celestia, he'd stepped into a real mare's nest.  Lyra had used the word 'fillyfriend'.  Its alternate meaning now came into his head and he almost groaned at his stupidity.

Even as Lyra moved to console her sobbing partner, he could see other ponies stopping to gawk once again and murmur disapprovingly and that protective instinct for both of them intensified.  “Quick, this way!”  He plunged back into the bakery and both mares followed him.  They looped around the counter and he flung his bag of bits at the clerk in passing.  “You didn't see us, got it?”

“Whatever you say, mysterious stallion!” she called after him as the three of them cantered through the kitchen and out into the back alley.

With Celestia's sun straight overhead, the alleyway was bright, stacks of old crates interspersed with back doorways, some propped open to show kitchens or the back rooms of other businesses.  There was some garbage, but Hoofington's sanitation unicorns tended to be fastidious about their job and the day was still early, so the pavement was fairly clean.  Soarin' still watched where he was putting his hooves, though.

“The last thing we need is the ponyrazzi latching onto us,” he explained, leading Lyra and Bon-Bon past the back entrance of Maps and Hoof Care, then the gently-used saddle shop.  “I live farther down and I can sneak you up into my loft until you're feeling better.”  He caught the look on Bon-Bon's tear-streaked face and amended,  “If that's what you want?”

“Yes, please,” Lyra said, giving Bon-Bon another nudge so as to avoid stepping on an orange rind.  “We're going to need some time.  And if that offer of pie still stands, then I won't turn it down.  It's been a stressful morning.”

Soarin' looked worriedly at Bon-Bon, who had subsided into sniffles once again.  This whole situation made him feel as if he'd caught a dragonfly in his throat.  He was no Noble Steed, but he hated seeing fillies cry.  “You're really not hurt?”

“I'm okay,” she muttered, looking down.  “Sorry if I snapped at you.  You were probably trying to be nice back there.”

“I didn't realize you were, well, those sorts of fillyfriends,” he admitted, knowing he probably sounded like some sort of idiot.  “I just thought you were Wonderbolts fans.”  He unlocked the door to the back rampways of his building and glanced back at them.  “Or maybe you're in trouble.  I don't care.  You just look like you need help.”

“Rescue damsels in distress often, do you?” Lyra commented, but she followed him upstairs anyways, Bon-Bon keeping pace.

“Used to, as part of the Wonderbolts show, but that was before we had to stop using fire rings.”  He looked around his upright wings and was gratified to see a pair of small smiles. Then he broke into a gentle trot the rest of the way, the ramp tapering up right into his loft.  His ground home away from his cloud home.

Wonderbolts banners hung from the rafters, showing events that were important to him, like his first Canterlot performance and the Night in Airabia.  A spray of feathers was behind glass, representing each Pegasus he'd flown with, along with several pairs of autographed goggles.  The wooden floors had rugs and pillows, as well as a table or two and a small bookcase.  Soarin' really didn't entertain much, so he didn't have a whole lot of furniture.  At least he'd remembered to make his bed before he'd left for practice that morning.  Being a bachelor meant that he often procrastinated with cleaning, which sometimes made it awkward when unexpected feminine company arrived.

“Whoo,” came the chirp behind him.  “Nice space.”

“Thanks,” he said as he ducked through an open doorway into his kitchen, hoping against hope that he'd remembered to clean up from breakfast.  “Make yourselves comfortable.”  A gentle buck sent the pie tin clattering onto his stove and he fluttered his wings to try and cool the simmering hot spot on his withers.  “Tea, I assume?”  He poked his head back into the living area.  Bon-Bon had settled on a clump of pillows by a low table, Lyra leaning over her and nuzzling her ears affectionately.  “Or is something stronger called for?  I've got some salty things.”

Lyra looked up.  “It's tempting, but we'd better not.  Do you need a unicorn's help with that pie?”

He  was glad she'd thought of it before he'd made a mess with the knife.  “Actually, yeah.  That'd be good.”

Coming over, she gently brushed past him and into his kitchen, horn glowing as cupboards and drawers opened and cutlery began asserting itself.  “Go and sit with Bon-Bon.  She won't kill you.”

Feeling self-conscious, Soarin' went over to his nightstand and picked up a box of tissues.  As he sat down across the table from Bon-Bon, he gently nudged them over to her.  “Here.”

“Thank you,” she muttered again, “I'm sorry.  I'm not usually that mean.”

He whuffed softly in commiseration.  “Bad morning?”

She nodded, leaning over to pluck a tissue free and dab at her eyes.

Before he could think of anything else well-meaning to say, a slice of his pie floated down and Lyra rejoined them, plates for her and Bon-Bon magically descending as well.  “All right, you've got us hidden away from the prying eyes of the public,” she said.  “Is it that bad for the team image if you're caught on camera making fillies cry?”

Soarin' felt himself blush.  “Umm ... yes.”  He really wanted to dive into his pie, but some innate sense of politeness held him back until the others started on theirs.

“Lyra,” Bon-Bon murmured softly, her gaze suddenly fixed on him.  “The poor boy is ravenous.  Give him a second to enjoy his food before we tell him our whole life's sad story.”  She surprised him with a smile.  “I run a candy shop, so I know what sweet-longing looks like.  And your ears are giving you away.”

His blush intensified as he realized that his ears were straining forward and he innocently flicked them back again, ignoring a throb from the one he'd banged on the pavement.  “Oh, no.  No, I'm fine.  Go on.”

“You're also a bad liar,” she said.  She dipped her head and took a quick bite of her own pie.  As her eyelids fluttered in brief pleasure, he couldn't resist the temptation any longer and snapped up a mouthful of his own.

“Sorry,” he said, voice muffled around the luxurious, long-forgotten taste of warm caramelized apples and sugar.  He swallowed and gave himself a shake.  “It's my first pie in weeks.  Fitness training.”

“And we almost cost you your treat.”  Lyra looked apologetic.  “Okay, Bon-Bon's definitely going to forgive you for snorting up her tail like that.”

“Hey!”  Having a cream-coloured coat meant Bon-Bon could produce a fiery blush of her own.

Soarin' buried his own embarrassment in more pie and by the time he surfaced again, licking his chops, Lyra had apparently won a silent argument and was sitting with her front hooves tipped together.

“We'd just had some bad news a few minutes before running into you,” she said.  “We've been trying to adopt a foal for the last few months, and the Hoofington agency just gave us the final word.”

Soarin' knew nothing about those sorts of things, but could figure out what the bad news was.  “Was it because you're together?  I thought that didn't matter any more.”

“In some places, to some ponies, it still does,” Lyra admitted.  “And it wasn't the 'official' reason, so it's hard to say.  There's an awful lot of ponies like us wanting the same thing and there are 'better qualified' applicants, or so we're told.”  She heaved a long sigh.  “We've talked to a couple of agencies and had friends look into others.  Waiting lists are long and that last rejection just hit us harder than we thought.”  She lowered her head, her own tears evident.

Soarin' really wasn't sure about any of this, but he felt like he had to say something, even if it was completely wrong.  “Isn't there anything else you can try?”

Bon-Bon and Lyra looked at each other.  “There's plenty,” Bon-Bon said, nosing at her pie as Lyra reached for a tissue.  “But we haven't really been agreeing on other ideas.  We'd hoped adoption would mean we wouldn't have to look at them.”

Before she could elaborate, a whistling noise filled the air and Soarin' hopped up to look after the kettle Lyra had put on.  Once the tea had been set to steep and mugs put out for everyone, he found himself wanting to help, even though he was far out of his depth, and he dared to say so.

Lyra's reaction was a gentle, if incredulous laugh.  “You're a soft one, aren't you, Soarin'?  You've just met us, and not under the best of circumstances.  And yet you're offering food and help without really considering this?”

“They say I have a bit of an impulsive nature,” he said, giving his wings a defiant flap.  “But I'm not as involved.  Maybe I can think of something you haven't.”

Bon-Bon gave a snort of her own, her tail swishing against her cutie mark.  “We've spent months on this.  If it involved adoption, surrogates, or magic, we've looked into it and made very long lists.  Magic is unreliable, the last of our adoption trails just went cold, and there's no one that we felt comfortable with even asking to cover one of us.”  She sighed and nipped up a crumb from her plate.  “You still think that last one is our Plan B, love?”

Lyra leaned over to nuzzle her.  “Not like I'd love you any less if you or I got pregnant,” she said.  “I just didn't want it to be awkward for any stallion in town to see us with a foal they helped sire.  We have too many friends in Ponyville to do something silly and hurt somepony.”

Soarin' found his brain trying to play catch-up with this train of thought.  “But aren't you two. . .?”

“Not militantly so.”  Lyra grinned at him.  “We're small-town lovers, not part of a Manehattan community of maremunchers.”  Her grin grew wider as he winced at the crude phrase.  “Our word, we can use it.”

Bon-Bon nodded.  “I've never really looked at a stallion until we started thinking about that option.  And there's very few of them I'd be attracted to enough to even consider . . . doing it.  Lyra's always been the more open-minded one.”  She snorted again at her partner, but softly.  “Tease.”

“And you love it,” Lyra shot back.  Her horn glowed and the teapot lifted to pour into their mugs.  “We're going to have to revisit this, though, and we'll have to take a second look at stallions in town.  Course, everypony talks about Big Macintosh, but I think Applejack won't like us looking at him in that way.  Not that it's any of her cider.”

And then Soarin' asked the question that would change his life.  “Does it have to be a stallion in your town?”

The teapot, hovering only an inch off the table, thumped right back down onto its pad and both mares stared blankly at him.

“Why would we ask a complete stranger to cover us?”  Bon-Bon looked incredulous.

He shrugged weakly, folding his wings up again.  “Don't you have friends outside Ponyville who would want to help?  That wouldn't object to spending a night or two with two very pretty mares?  That you wouldn't object to spending the night with?”  He couldn't believe he was still talking at this stage and sank a little beneath their gazes.  “. . . You said you had a list.”

Lyra's horn glowed and she looked thoughtful as she hoisted up her mug to sip tea.  “Did we look at everypony in Canterlot that we thought we could trust?” she asked.

Bon-Bon blinked a few times.  “Not a lot of ponies made the list.  Well, Pokey did move back there, but he wouldn't look twice at your flank or mine, even if we blindfolded him and told him to think of unshorn fetlocks.”

“Okay.”  Lyra sighed and hovered her mug in front of her muzzle.  “Let me think for a minute.  Flyboy might have something here.”

Soarin' sat quietly, feeling a little bit of pride that he had indeed thought of something.  In fact, he deserved another slice of pie for that.  As he got up and trotted back into his kitchen, he could hear whispering behind him and grinned to himself.  If they were from Ponyville, then he could always drop by the next time he was in Cloudsdale and see what they had decided to do.  And that would be that.

He gave them some more time together by tidying up the results of Lyra's unicorn telekinesis on his kitchen.  And then he cut himself another slice of pie and sauntered contentedly back to the table.

Two different gazes met his as he sat down.  Bon-Bon had her head resting on her folded forelegs, looking unimpressed once more, while Lyra's eyes were bright with obvious interest.  Soarin' cocked his head to the side and whickered in confusion.

“You've helped us realize something else,” Lyra said, ignoring Bon-Bon's eye roll.  “We never considered Pegasi.”

Soarin' blinked, then realized what she meant by that.  Uh-oh.


-+-+-+-


“YOU'RE A PARASPRITE-HEADED, PEA-BRAINED, PIE-FACED CRETIN.  WHAT ARE YOU?”

Soarin' calmly let the stream of invective wash over him, the force of his captain's bellow ruffling his mane.   He opened his mouth, but chose not to say anything because he knew she would simply override him.   Which was true.

“IF YOU TOOK AN INTENSIVE COURSE OF INTELLIGENCE INJECTIONS . . .”

He tuned her out, knowing he could explain the situation, but he would have to let her run out of anger first.  It was one of the reasons she was called Spitfire.  His captain could be as hot as a firecracker, exploding in fury with her mane flaring and her eyes sparking.  Then she would abruptly stop and be the most reasonable pony anypony could ever meet.  One just had to know that.  He returned his attention to the verbal lambasting he was getting.

“ . . . FIND MYSELF ONE OF FANCY PANTS' AIRSHIPS AND  RAM IT . . . ”

He tuned out again, keeping his gaze over her left shoulder.  They were the last two in the locker room after practice and he had made sure the door was locked before telling her about the proposal Lyra and Bon-Bon had presented him with.  Needless to say, she had been unimpressed.

“ . . . IN THE DUNGEON OF CANTERLOT CASTLE WHERE NO ONE WILL EVER FIND YOU!”

Soarin' flicked his ears forward again as he sensed his opening.  “Feel better, Captain?”

“NO!'  She glowered at him.  “Of all the things, Soarin'.  I let you off the leash to go and get a pie and you bring back a stud offer?  From a pair of fillyfoolers?”

“Actually, they're both mature,” he pointed out. “So I believe they're mares.”

Spitfire made an impressive, inarticulate noise of rage.  “Whatever.  Look, it's one thing for a Wonderbolt to have somepony ask them to father a foal.  Fillies scream that from the stands all the time.  It's the price of being a celebrity.  You know this; I know this.  It's quite another to be privately asked like this, without any witnesses.  How do you know these two are on the level?”

“I don't.”  Soarin' shrugged.

She snorted and he swore smoke came from her nostrils.  “All right.  Let's go through this again, just so I'm able to tell the Guard the exact details for their report when I murder you:  An alleged lesbian Earth Pony ran you down outside a bakery.  She cried.  In response, you led her and her alleged unicorn partner back to your apartment, where they suddenly decided to make you an offer every stallion would hop at?”

He whuffled softly and opened his wings in self-defence.  “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound sort of strange.  And it wasn't that sudden!   I . . . sort of . . . gave them the idea.”

Spitfire stared at him, her mouth hanging open.  Oooh, he'd rendered her temporarily speechless.  If he wasn't sure this was going to hurt, he'd have been impressed.  “Are you from the Filly Reclamation Front?” she finally demanded.

“Huh?  No, but . . .”

“It's not unusual for a stallion's brain to become addled, Soarin', when you've had a good snootful of mare-scent.  Happens to the best of them.  I don't blame you for that.  But what if that was their little plan all along?  Show how unhappy they are, cry on your shoulder, whisk their little tails over your nose, and generally befuddle you.”  Spitfire pranced mockingly on the spot.  “All the while, the plan is to get your horsepower racing over how cute they are, how they've never had a real stallion, how you'd be doing them a favour by having the time of your life . . . and then BAM!”  She got in his face again, nose to nose.  “As a Wonderbolt, you're a well-off pony.  Did you know that?”

He gulped and nodded.

“Good.  Imagine losing half of that to some crazy lawsuit claiming you'd fathered a foal on an unwilling mare.”  Spitfire snarled again, a sound that would make a manticore fall in love.  “You'd hardly be the first.  Come with me.”

Soarin' opened his mouth to protest, but she abruptly sank her teeth into his ear.  His damaged ear.  “OWWWW!  INJURY INJURY INJURY DON'T YANK ON THAT!”

Spitfire released her grip, blinking, then gently eased his mane away from his ear.  “Is that from . . .”

“The pavement,” he whimpered, feeling fresh blood trickling.  “It had been scabbing over.”

Contrite, she slung a foreleg over his shoulders.  “Okay, let's clean that up.”  She led him to a sink, tucked a wet cloth behind his ear, and held it there.  Ow, that smarted.  “Why did you agree to this?”

“I haven't,” he said, angling his body so he didn't get a crick in his neck from the way she was tilting his head.  “Not yet, anyways.  Bon-Bon wasn't sure about it either, given how we met.  It's her partner, Lyra, who's running with this idea.  She said they would need time, especially since neither of them are in heat.”

“Thank Celestia for small favours, then,”  Spitfire said.  She heaved a deep sigh and looked at him in the mirror, her anger gone.  “You're a gentlecolt, Soarin'.  It's one of your best qualities.  But it can also get you in a whole lot of trouble.  I don't want this to be one of those times.”  Peeling away the washcloth, she peered at his ear, dabbing him gently.  “A little gauze and you'll be fine.”

She gave him a towel and he gingerly dried off his mane.  “So, is my impending death off the table, Captain?”

His head was gently nudged downwards and he felt a patch being applied to the back of his ear.  “Consider yourself reprieved.  Now, follow me.  I'm taking you down to the Archives.  I want you aware of what you're getting into, just in case.  Also, you should see a lawyer.  Not the team's legal department, but a lawyer of your own.  Do you know any?”

He blinked, following as she left the locker room.  “Is that really necessary?”

“Soarin', you may have been on the Wonderbolts for longer than I have,”  Spitfire was making him almost trot to keep up.  “but I've been through some drama or two in my time, so let's skip ahead to the end of the script for a second.  If those two come back and say that you're not their choice or if you decide to not go through with this, then no, you won't need a lawyer.  You're safe, everypony takes a bow, and the band plays us off.  But if a miracle happens and you're asked to spend a happy weekend in the Hooftons getting your stud on, then what?”

He tried to remember the last time she'd given Rapid Fire dating advice.  “I ... treat them with respect and bring flowers?”

Spitfire shot him a look, but rolled her eyes instead of smacking him with a wing.  “Well, naturally.  But let's assume you've done your duty and she's pregnant.  What happens eleven months down the road?  Will you ever be allowed to see the foal you helped sire?  What if that foal wants to know who you are when she gets older?  Or something happens to one of her parents and the survivor comes to you?  Do you even know what rights you have already under Equestrian law?”

Soarin' stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide as he breathed out hard.  None of that had even crossed his mind!  “Oh, horsefeathers.”

“I know you'd respect any wishes those mares might have when it comes to their lives.  But somepony has to make sure you're not hurt when the candles go out and you're back home in your own bed.”  Spitfire fluffed her wings to unruffle her feathers.  “I'll show you what we've dealt with in this organization.”

Not ten minutes later, he was sitting at a table with Spitfire and worriedly eyeing the folder on the table.  It was awfully thick.  “This is the claims file?”

“For every Wonderbolt who couldn't keep their flight suit on, yep.”  She flipped it open with her nose.  “Go ahead, soak in the salacious details.”

He did.  He read about proven cases, disproved cases, settled cases, deliberate cases, and all manners of lunatic cases.  And he began to understand why Spitfire insisted he be so careful.  There was a cost to the Wonderbolts, be it in bits or positive image publicity, for every single one of those claims that had made the press.  And there had been a few.  “Whoa.”

“Yeah.  Amazing what ponies think they can get away with.  You'll probably find a common lawyer's name in there.  If we've shovelled a lot of bits his way in the past, he might even be happy to see you.”  Spitfire turned to head for the door, where she stopped and looked back at him.  “You did the right thing in coming to me, even though you knew I'd chew your ear off.”

“Just not literally,” he joked weakly, flicking that ear and feeling the bandage tug.

She smirked briefly, then sobered.  “Just keep this to yourself as much as you can.  If anypony heard me yelling at you, it was about practice, okay?  No sense in starting silly rumours.  Little wings move quickly to reporters if there's a chance of making some extra bits.”  And then she was gone, her hoofbeats receding quickly down the corridor.

Heaving a deep sigh, he stared at the paperwork in front of him.  There was now only one question circling in his brain, which hadn't even been there until now.  Am I ready for any of this?  


-*-*-*-


Soarin' craned his neck and kept an eyes open for a garish pink top hat.  Then again, given some of the headwear ponies wore to the Derby, he might well go blind before he could find Lyra in the crowd.

He had gone to see the lawyers a week earlier.  It had gone well.  Better than he'd hoped, even.  

His situation wasn't as uncommon as he had thought.  A great number of ponies had sought help from the courts of Celestia and Luna over the years when it came to paternity.  And in cases where stud services had been used, both parties had come to have certain rights established.

He had ended up sitting there and listening to his lawyer with great interest and relief.  Yes, if he wished, he could be identified to his foal if they ever enquired, even over the objections of their parents.  No, he would not be held liable for support if the mares ended their relationship or one of them passed on.  Lyra and Bon-Bon would be considered the legal parents of any foal resulting from his union with either or both of them, and they were the ones who would have final say over how much he would ever be involved.  However, Soarin' would also be legally allowed one visit within the first year.  The courts had apparently seen issues from this that they had made it mandatory for a stallion to be allowed a visit to learn their filly or colt's colouring and name.

“Now, I'm no specialist,” his lawyer, a unicorn, had told him, “however, it hasn't escaped my notice that you're a Pegasus.  Do your mares also have wings?”  Soarin' had shaken his head.  “Well, in that case, some might worry about your offspring possessing them.  It's very hard for a grounded family to give a Pegasus the proper care, especially when it comes to cloud-walking and flight school and all the other things that go into your own little world.”

Soarin' had involuntarily twitched his own wings.  “I thought the mare's history was what determined the breed?”

“Well, quite so, m'boy.  But you had best check with both those lovely ladies and ensure that neither of them have any Pegasi in their direct lineage somewhere.  The tendency towards a throwback is rare, but I've seen stranger things happen in my lifetime.  If one of them has it, be safe and cover the other one.”

There had been other things to deal with, all of them expertly handled for him.  It was recommended that he have an updated physical done, as Lyra and Bon-Bon would be as entitled to his history as he was to theirs.  He had done that and left it with the office, along with instructions to let either of the mares view it.  A number of other suggestions were written down for later, too, assuming he would go through with the whole adventure.

Now, as he stood with Spitfire and the other Wonderbolts in the Winner's Circle, Soarin' sighed to himself and scanned the crowd for Lyra and possibly Bon-Bon, if she had come along as well.  If they were to let him be involved in their lives, what would he be?  An uncle?  A father figure?  He snorted softly at that idea.  Him, a father at his age.  He was still a young buck, with a long time in the air still ahead of him.

Of course, he was free to refuse the offer to be a stud.  He had only agreed to consider things, just as Lyra and Bon-Bon had.  But would it be best for him to refuse?  If they chose him, it was because he would be the 'best' pick for the task.  How could he say no to that?

And what if he did have a family of his own one day, when he was ready to settle down?  Would he ever be able to explain to another mare what he had done if his grown-up foal came looking for him?  Would she even understand?

Soarin' started and gave himself a shake.  All that was the future.  Still to come.  He really needed to just get through the present.

Then he saw Lyra trotting their way, mint-green coat clashing painfully with the hot pink top hat perched just behind her horn.  She had sent him a letter to tell him what she would be wearing to the Derby, so she couldn't have purchased that monstrosity from one of the hat-sellers outside.  But why on Equestria would somepony own something that hideous in the first place?

“Well, at least she's willing to wear a stupid hat to cheer us on,” Spitfire grumbled beside him.  “That's a point in her favour.”

Soarin' stifled a snicker.  “Are you sure you want to be seen with me right now?  If the ponyrazzi got ahold of this, they'd make you out to be my pimp.”

“Don't laugh, flyboy.  I'm making sure that if I have to cut you loose because of stupidity, it's just you who gets his feathers singed and not the rest of the Wonderbolts.”  She elbowed him in the ribs.

He didn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him wince, but a grunt escaped him and Spitfire looked pleased with herself as Lyra came up.

“What was that for?” she asked.

“Him continuing to take part in this,” Spitfire said.  “Shall we go for a walk?”

With a smile, Lyra turned herself about and let both Wonderbolts flank her as they pushed gently through the crowd.  “Bon-Bon still has some reservations of her own.”  She nudged Soarin's shoulder softly.  “Not that you being a stallion offends her, but she's still not over your first meeting.”

Soarin' felt his ears get hot.  “She ran into me because she didn't look where she was going.  Her and her blasted tail.”

It was Spitfire's turn to snicker, but once they'd rounded a corner together and had the privacy of an empty corridor behind the broad back of a unicorn Royal Guard, she turned serious.  “I talked with a pony about you two.”

“Rainbow Dash, right?”  Lyra shrugged.  “Who do you think we talked to about Soarin'?  If anypony knows Wonderbolts gossip, it's her.”  Her tail swished back and forth.  “She told you that we are what we said we are, right?”

“Yes,” Spitfire admitted grudgingly.  “You are exactly what you claim.  Ponyville's favourite couple.  Not that it makes me feel any better.  I do not want Soarin' or the Wonderbolts in the papers because of this.  He's got a lawyer, you know.”

“I do know.  He told me already in the reply he sent.  That means he's smart,” Lyra said.  “And can afford one, unlike Bon-Bon and I.  It cost us a lot to even get that far in the adoption process, only to get rejected right at the end.  It's why we're having to go this route rather than other solutions.”

Feeling left out, Soarin' whickered and the two mares swung their heads to look at him.  “Um, you said in your letter that you wanted to talk to me.  Did you two make a decision?”

Lyra nodded.  “When I got your reply, I went over to see your file before the Derby.  You've got good family stock, according to your genealogy.  No diseases that were hereditary and you're in remarkably good shape.”

“Oooh, more fancy talking,” Spitfire cooed, fluttering her wings.  “Sweep him right off his feet, why don't you?”

Soarin' snorted softly.  “Captain, come on.  She's on the level.  You said so yourself.  This can't be easy for her.”

Lyra blushed as Spitfire rolled her eyes.  “We can talk more about the other stuff when we're all together.”  As he blinked, she nodded again.  “Bon-Bon and I would like you to come by next week, if you could.  Congratulations.  You're our first choice.”

He froze there, foreleg half-raised as Spitfire circled around to nuzzle at his neck.  “Good job, stud.  Not that you'll ever tell anypony I said that.”

Soarin' felt a lot of things at once.  There was relief, for one.  Some surprise.  And a little apprehension at the thought of going through with it.  Underneath it all, though, there was a low thrill of anticipation at what was to come.

Lyra stood there as well, in her silly pink top hat, then she suddenly leaned in and touched her muzzle to his, breathing a soft puff of air against his nose.  “Are you okay with that?”

He whuffed back softly and nodded.  “I hope you like flowers.”

“Actually, as yummy as they are, I like pie better,” she murmured, eyes suddenly twinkling.  “But Bon-Bon does love clover.  Bring her some, if you could.  I'll provide the pastry.”  She looked him over.  “Best not wear the Wonderbolts uniform, either.  I mean, I'd find it kind of fun to peel you out of it and slip it on her, but if it didn't fit her flanks, she'd get huffy about her weight.”

Spitfire mimed gagging on something.

Lyra ignored her.  “I'll send directions later in the week.  It's best if you come after sunset, if you're worried about being recognized.”

“Sounds good,” he said.

“Great.  Oh, one other thing . . .”  Lyra wrinkled her muzzle, looking unsure of herself.  “You didn't include, um, anything too intimate in your folder.  As in, 'likes' and 'dislikes'?”

“Annnnd I'm out!” Spitfire sang.  “Soarin', see me later so we can co-ordinate your little rendevouz with team activities.”  She nodded to Lyra.  “Nice to finally put a face to the fantasy.  I hope you all have fun.  And eventual foals.”  With that, she trotted off.

Soarin' gazed after her, mouth half-open, then turned back to Lyra.  “Ummm . . . sorry?”

“No, it's fine,” she said.  “She's really worried that this is some sort of long con or disaster in the making, isn't she?”

“She's more afraid that she'll wake up one morning and there'll be a little foal in a basket on my front step and she'll suddenly be Auntie Spitfire,” he confessed.  “And why do you need to know, um, stuff like that?”

“Well, it's true we're asking you to cover us both and what stallion could say no to that?” she said.  “But it's not like I'd make it a chore or anything.  If you have . . . needs, you know, to get yourself in the mood, you can say so.  We can be accommodating.  Although if there's anything too out of the ordinary, I'll have to stop off at the Legal Advice and Marital Aids branch here in Canterlot before I go home.”

Soarin' didn't think his ears could get any hotter.  “Oh.  No, nothing like that.  Whatever you normally . . . “  His brain reminded him of whom he was dealing with.  “Uh, whatever you feel comfortable with.  Just, you know, nothing heavier than bits and bridles.”

Lyra's pale mint cheeks showed her own blush.  “Uh-huh.  Okay.  You tried that too, did you?”

“Once,” he admitted.  “A little imagination never hurt a pony.”

There was an awkward silence between them and Soarin' found his gaze once again, unwillingly, drawn to her hat.  “Did you borrow that hat from Bon-Bon?”

She looked up, going adorably cross-eyed as she tried to see past her own horn.  “Pretty ugly, isn't it?  I had to wear something to the Derby, though.  The snooty sort won't let you sit with them if you don't have properly hideous headwear.”  She gave a little grin.  “So I shouldn't wear it next week?”

“Please, no!” Soarin told her, rearing a little in mock-horror.  “Otherwise you'd have to blindfold me and tell me to think of unshorn fetlocks.”

Lyra reached up a foreleg and set her monstrosity of a hat at a jaunty angle.  “Then this shall be the last time you'll see me in it.  Good race today, by the way.  I was tempted to make a wager or two, but considering the stakes I've already got on parts other than your wings. . . .”  She slipped a monocle from the headband of her hat and put it to her eye.  “Now, if you'll excuse me,” she sniffed, “I believe I have to go and see a horse about a horse.”  She winked her other eye at him.  “See you in a week.”  Putting her nose high into the air in an impression of a high-society Canterlot pony, she pranced away.

When she was out of sight, Soarin' sat down with his rump against the wall, and heaved a long sigh.  Oh, if his grandmother were still alive today, she'd batter her wing on his ears until they were good and shredded if she knew half the thoughts he was having.

There were soft hoofbeats and Spitfire peered down at him.  “Let me guess:  She isn't the shy type?”

He shook his head.

“Uh-huh.  The hat kinda gave it away.”  Spitfire nudged at his shoulder.  “Come on, stud.  Those two were good enough to choose a weekend when we didn't have any events scheduled, but you might have to miss a practice.  Let's go work on your cover story.”


-+-+-+-


As Luna's moon settled into place in the night sky, Soarin' lightly touched down outside a quaint little cottage off Ponyville's main street.  He hoped he was at the right place, since the night shadows made it difficult to make out the nameplate on the mailbox.

There were some lights on inside the house, so before knocking, he sidled up to one of the front windows and peered in, hoping that it didn't turn out to be somepony's bathroom.  Thankfully, it was a kitchen and Soarin' was relieved to see Lyra standing there, her horn glowing as plates swirled around, greens washed themselves, and cupboards opened and closed.  He watched her turn on the spot slowly, her golden eyes wide in concentration.  Like all unicorns, she made magic look so simple.  Would his offspring have that magic one day?  Would she even be the one to foal?

“Psst.”

To his surprise, Bon-Bon sidled up beside him and bumped her head against his neck.  “I see you found us without too much trouble.” she whispered.

“Hi,” he breathed back softly, instinctively curling his head over hers.  “Why are you whispering?”

“Seems like the thing to do when you're watching somepony through a window,” she said, her voice soft as she gazed in at Lyra as well.  “Has she been telling you stories about how I'm not ready for all this?”

“A couple,” he admitted.  He raised his head again, concerned.  “If it's me . . .”

“Shhh,” Bon-Bon murmured.  “We can talk about it later.”  Her own beautiful blue eyes gleamed in the light from inside.  “Let's not keep her waiting, shall we?”  She nudged for him to back up and he did so, letting her slip past and open the front door.  “Lyra!  I'm home and I found a lost colt outside.  I think he's got salt with him!”  Turning, she winked at him, and he chuckled to himself and followed her into the house.

Dinner was excellent; Lyra tossed a mean strawberry and rhubarb salad, along with spiced bread and cheese.  Ponyville had good cows living amongst them to produce cheese of that quality, he decided.    The salt he'd brought was a good grinding, but all three of them nipped at it sparingly.  He supposed neither Lyra nor Bon-Bon wanted to conceive while soused.

They dined by candlelight, which he found slightly strange, but also somewhat appropriate.  And Lyra kept asking him for stories from the Wonderbolts.  She was obviously a fan and had been to a lot of events.  Bon-Bon, as an Earth Pony, seemed to appreciate his tales, but it was just as obvious that she was a 'hooves on the ground' pony.

Finally, she was the first to push her plate away.  “Before we get to the dessert,” she said, “which my lovely Lyra has hunted high and low for, because Celestia help her if a Wonderbolt at her table gets served inferior pastry,”  Lyra blushed at that.  “I want to thank you for taking us seriously, even when I got a bit snarky about stud service instead of getting my way with adoption.”

“You're welcome?” Soarin' ventured.

Bon-Bon smiled and rested her chin on her hoof as Lyra magically picked up the dinner plates and followed the dishes into the kitchen.  “I'm okay with this, despite what you've been told.  Lyra's just being cautious.  She's been trying to think of ways to put us together, but I think we can just both go with whatever flow we like?  You said you were pretty plain.”

“Very plain,” he agreed.  “Is that all right?”

“Of course.”  She put her ears up and waggled them gently.

Just then, Lyra re-emerged, levitating a top-iced apple-cinnamon cake.  “Zap-Apple Cake!  A Sweet Apple Acres original!” she chirped.  “Nopony stuff yourselves if we're all going to get busy later.”

Soarin' watched as she cut them all moderate slices.  “Oh, I was told to ask if either of you had wings in your family, just in case.”

Lyra whisked some tumbled cake crumbs back onto the plate.  “Mmm... nope, all unicorns as far as I know.  Bon-Bon?”

“Nothing but ground-pounders,” she said, lifting her head and licking icing off her muzzle.  “You'd be the first time anypony in my family has even thought about a Pegasus.”  Then she smirked.  “Worried that we'd end up with a filly with her head in the clouds?”

Soarin' laughed softly.  “No, but it's not easy for any earthbound when there's a flyer in the family.  Especially a newborn.  There's things that have to be done from the moment they have their first moulting.  You shouldn't have to need a Pegasus in your life when you don't want one.”  His ears came forward.  “Which also reminds me:  I should know how far I'm allowed to be involved with your lives.  Don't just hand me half a cake and hoof me out the door afterwards.”  He shrugged.  “Although, if you do do that, I'll know where I stand.”

Lyra looked surprised.  “Oh, stars forbid that we'd be that rude!”  She magically set her fork down and brushed her napkin over her mouth.  “What do you want?  Let's start there.”

“I don't know,” he confessed.  “I've been thinking about it an awful lot since we, well, ran into each other.  If I was involved in your lives, would your foal feel betrayed because they learned one day that 'Uncle Soarin'' was really 'Dad' and they feel they missed out?  I don't want to cause that.”

“Well, if they spend any time around the Apples, they'd learn pretty darn quick that there was a stallion out there who helped their moms out,” Bon-Bon said dryly.  “Farm ponies don't dance around the facts of life.”

“We should really wait and see,” Lyra said.  “We might have a colt who could grow up with a love for the air that we wouldn't be able to explain any other way.  And it would be silly of us to keep a part of him from himself.”  She eyed her half-eaten cake, then looked up at him.  “We've talked about it, too.  It's one reason we didn't want a stallion from Ponyville, just in case he tried to be too involved.  Not that we'd ban you from ever visiting.  But . . . not every week, let's say.”  She put a hoof over his.  “After tonight, the three of us are going to be a lot of things to each other.  I can understand that.  But not even Celestia can see the future or know the feelings we'll have.  What we do have, however, is the guidelines given to us by her courts.  The rest will just have to be horse sense.”

Soarin' looked over at Bon-Bon and offered her his other hoof, which she gently accepted.  “Well, then.  How did you want to begin?”

“Whoa there, stud,” she murmured.  “I am going to thoroughly enjoy this cake before enjoying anything else.”  She pressed the pad of her hoof to his and he could see her tail as it gave a little flick.  “But we're going to make sure you're comfortable before starting, don't you worry.”

Lyra finished her cake a few bites later and came around the table as he was nosing up the last few crumbs from his plate.  “Tasty, wasn't it?”  At his nod and muzzle-cleaning lick, she chuckled.  “I'd heard from Applejack about you before, when you bought one of her pies at the Grand Galloping Gala last year.  So I figured that you'd want to taste her baking again.”

His ears perked.  “That was hers?  I thought it was familiar!”

“You were her only customer on that rotten night,” Bon-Bon said.  “Maybe one day we'll tell her that we used her food to soften you up.”

“But I don't think we want him soft, Bon-Bon.”  Lyra spun around, her tail lightly brushing his nose, and he started at the suddenness of it.  She smelled quite good, actually.  Like wind and grass, with just a hint of the mare she was beneath.  “We want him hard, hot, and . . .”  She hesitated.  “Damn.  I can't think of another good, sexy 'h' word.  I'm out of practice.”

Bon-Bon smirked over Lyra's withers at him and mouthed the word 'horny'.  He stifled a grin of his own and shook his head.  One didn't use that line on a unicorn.  It tended to invite a swift hoof or two.

Lyra sighed heavily and looked at both of them.  “Would one of you please help a filly get her flirt on?”

“Take her down to the rumpus room, Soarin',” Bon-Bon chuckled.  “Get to know her a little.  I'll clear everything up here and join you two shortly.”  She made shooing motions with her hooves and started pushing the rest of the plates onto each other with her nose.

Soarin' looked up at the pretty mint unicorn standing beside him.  “You have a rumpus room?”

“It's a very new rumpus room,” Lyra admitted, lending him a hoof to help him up onto all fours.  “In fact, it was just made this afternoon.  Shall we?”  Turning, she gave him another swish of her tail and headed for a nearby door.

True to her word, the suite in the basement did look as if it had been swiftly redecorated.  Furniture had been pushed against the walls to clear the floor, along with small stacks of boxes that peeked out from beneath quilted throw rugs.  In the middle of the room was a pile of plush cushions all sewn together.  The lighting was low and warm, with a few candle vases sprinkled here and there, safely away from the raft of pillows.

He considered the room, Lyra shifting anxiously beside him.  “It's cozy.” he commented.  “Did you have to move a lot of stuff?”

“All crammed in the shed in the backyard.”  She blushed.  “It's nothing to do with you, but Bon-Bon doesn't want anypony else in our bed.  And you didn't strike me as a 'do the filly over the coffee table' sort of stallion.  I mean, we have a coffee table, if you want . . .”

Soarin' shook his head quickly, feeling his ears getting warm again.  Then he remembered something.  Something his nose had picked up while she'd been flaunting her tail beneath it upstairs.  “You're not the one in heat.”

“No.  No, I'm not,” Lyra said, her tail still swishing from side to side.  “Bon-Bon went into heat the other night, just like we'd anticipated.  So she'll be the one who you'll hopefully get with foal.”  She gently touched her nose to his, like she had at the Derby.  “I suppose I could leave you two to go it alone.  But we've been together for so long.  I would never leave her at a time like this.”  She giggled.  “Especially at a time like this.  She's going to need encouragement.  Now, go and lie down while I get the lights.”

He nodded, wandering over to the pillows and flopping onto them while Lyra shuffled around the room, lighting candles.  The overhead lights went out and seconds later, her weight finally settled beside him.  Soarin' peeked up and saw her lying there in the dimness, gazing at him.  “What is it?”

“Nerves,” she confessed, nosing at her own shoulder.  “I mean, I haven't been with anypony but Bon-Bon since school in Canterlot.  I've never even so much as thought about another pony while I've been with her.”  He felt her tail flick softly against his own cutie mark.  “Now I've got you here and she's not with me and I'm nervous.”

Soarin' lifted his head and gave his mane a shake, spying a coat-brush on one of the tables.  “Tell you what:  Get comfortable.”  He rolled off the cushions and let her arrange herself while he slipped his hoof through the brush-strap, making sure it was tight around his fetlock.

“Oooh,” she whickered again as he sat down beside her and gave her a gentle stroke along her back.  “That's niiiiiice.”  Her head settled down onto her forelegs.  “Hmmm.”

“Just think of Bon-Bon,” he murmured to her, keeping his hoof moving, brushing along her shoulders and the nape of her neck.  Her ears pricked up and he gave her a nuzzle there, feeling her soft moan vibrate through her body.  Soon she was a limp unicorn, her sides rising and falling with an occasional swish and flick of her tail.

Soarin' discovered a sensitive spot behind her horn, just between her softly twitching ears.  It caused her to quietly groan with every stroke and he brushed her mane aside to expose even more of that area, coming back to it time and again.  Each one of her blissful sighs made him feel warm and he finally set the brush aside and bent his head to nuzzle her again, planting a light kiss on that spot.

Lyra's pale golden eyes opened and she gazed up at him.  “Mmmph,” she breathed, rolling onto her side and sliding a hoof around his neck to draw him closer.  “I'm sorry I hesitated.  I thought I was braver than Bon-Bon, but it looks like I was wrong.”  She snuggled into him.  “But I think I know what I want to do next.”  Her pink tongue darted out and gave a soft swipe at his cheek.  Then her head slid down and she began to groom him along the chest and shoulders.

As her mouth nibbled its way along the side of his neck, Soarin' let his eyes drift closed.  She was a soft, pleasant mare.  And he was safe in her embrace.  Turning his head just a little, he nuzzled her near shoulder and ruffled a patch before smoothing it with his tongue as he returned the grooming, pushing his nose into her warm side and making her chirp in pleasure.

“I think I found another spot you like,” he whispered, lifting his head and nuzzling her still-twitching ear.  “Mmmm.  What should I do?”

Lyra brought her nose up underneath his chin, making him whuff softly and sending his tail swishing.  “Do what I usually do,” she murmured back.  “Keep the filly happy.”  With a wriggle, she slid her left hind leg over his hip and pressed her thigh into his haunch.

Soarin' shifted his weight gently to let her grind, exchanging slow nuzzles and licks as she rocked against him.  Her tail had somehow slipped beneath his, looping and tangling around him, supple as only a unicorn or Earth Pony could be.  She'd regained her confidence, it seemed.  And as she stroked her right hoof against his chest and stretched her neck up for another kiss, his ears caught the sound of another pony coming downstairs.  “Here she is.”

“Good.”  Lyra nearly purred that word.  Her nose nudged his shoulder.  “Has anypony ever told you that you're a lovely snuggler?”  She followed that up with a series of small licks and kisses to the side of his throat.

Before he could reply, there was more warm breath on his other cheek and he turned his head, only to bump muzzles with Bon-Bon.  Her big blue eyes were shining once again in the candlelight as she sat close and he felt the softest lick on his nose.  “Hello,” she cooed.  “Are you two enjoying yourselves?”

“Ohhh yes,” Lyra said, her voice somewhat muffled by Soarin's neck.  Her horn brushed his nose as she looked up at her partner.  “There's plenty of room here.  Come on down.”

Bon-Bon smiled and leaned in front of him to kiss her.  “One moment, dear.”  One of her forelegs slipped about his neck as she did so and she turned her head to plant another kiss on the side of his muzzle.  Feeling as if his ears couldn't get any hotter, Soarin' nuzzled in and gave her a lick, receiving a pleased noise in response.

Finally, she hopped onto the pile of cushions and wriggled her front half in between him and Lyra so she could continue necking with both of them.  The three ponies snuggled closer, nuzzling behind ears, rubbing cheeks together, and twining their necks around to search for hot little spots that made legs twitch and tails swish together.  Bon-Bon most enjoyed cuddling her head beneath Lyra's chin even as she would kiss him and make little noises of encouragement, but she also coaxed him to nose along her back and withers, fluffing her pretty tail at him and whickering whenever he got close to her hindquarters.  She was definitely in heat, although she seemed to still be in control of herself.

Then Lyra's nose was in his ear and her voice was soft.  “Let me,” she breathed, her head bent over Bon-Bon's neck so she could nose at her withers and whisper to him at the same time.  “Let me go first.  Give her more time.”

Resting his chin on Bon-Bon's back, Soarin' closed his eyes and gave a low groan as that was followed up with a deliberate stroke somewhere beneath his belly.  Whether that had been a tail or a hoof, it was difficult to tell, but it had been . . . good.  He slowly rolled his hindquarters onto his left flank, opening up his body for her attention.

Bon-Bon giggled and he felt her twist around and plant a wet kiss right on his ear.  “I heard that.  Was that Lyra wanting to play?”

He turned his head to the side so he could gaze up at her, rubbing his cheek into her luxurious coat.  “Is it all right if she does?”  He had been wondering if it would be an issue for either of them.  Now he was sincerely hoping it wasn't.

“Mmmhmmm,” she breathed back.  “I won't mind.  Here, let me help her.”  Muscles in her back flexed and his head was once more suddenly enveloped in pink and blue . . . only this time, it also carried the searing scent of a very wanting mare in heat.

With a snort, Soarin' tried to jerk away but her smell invaded his senses and his hips shuddered.  Up until then, he'd been partially unsheathed, semi-erect, and just more comfortable than aroused.  Now he felt himself fully harden and slide out all the way.  And as her devilish tail swished back and forth, taunting him, he whined and blindly pushed at her side, only to freeze at a sudden lick at the flared head of his cock.

His sharp gasp was greeted by a chuckle from Bon-Bon.  “Shhhh,” she soothed.  “Just lie still and let her take her time.  I want to see how this goes.”  Her hips wiggled beneath his head, rocking him gently.

Damn Earth Ponies and their tails.  Blinded by blue and purple and stupefied by mare-scent, he could only whuff weakly and lie there as he felt Lyra ease his hind legs apart.  His thighs trembled as he could sense his stiffness lying against his exposed belly.  Even thinking about how open he was made him twitch and jump slightly.

There was a faint murmur of approval, then a touch on his flank, stroking his coat.  Seconds later, the head of his cock was slowly engulfed in a hot, wet pull.  He groaned, wanting more, and he blindly inched a hoof forward, guessing where Lyra's head would be.  He touched her mane and pawed at it, feeling her head as it bobbed up and down on him.  He could hear the soft slurp of her tongue while she sucked and, to his surprise, her hoof curled around his, holding on as she continued to blow him softly.

Bon-Bon's tail quivered and he dug his nose against her some more, nibbling at her croup, trying to do something, anything that would let him watch Lyra while she worked.  But Bon-Bon merely gave a pleased moan and kept her tail draped over his eyes, giggling at him as he pawed vainly at it.  “Nuh-uh,” she murmured.  “Oh, please, by all means, keep doing that, but Lyra's pleasuring you nicely and you should just enjoy it.”

Soarin' whinnied in soft frustration, but that quickly turned back into another helpess groan as Lyra managed to roll him completely onto his back, his cock still in her mouth.  He could feel weight on his stifles and guessed that she was resting her forelegs on him.  But all that he really could concentrate on was her slow, steady sucking.  She wasn't taking him deep, he could tell, but her tongue was lavishing attention on his crown and he was shivering beneath her attention.

Then he heard her smack her lips and felt cool air as she pulled off of him.  There was a soft rubbing sensation near his sheath that he realized had been going on for a little while, too.  Ohh, that felt good.  “Just like I remembered,” came Lyra's voice.  “Was that okay?  Should I keep going, maybe?”  His ears pricked at that and he whined, hoping she'd understand.  He didn't have the words to beg.

“I think that means 'Yes!',” Bon-Bon said with a laugh.  She swished her tail away and peeked at him.  “Aww.”  Her warm nose pressed against his and she giggled as he gave her a pleading lick.  “You want to watch her, don't you, stud?  See the pretty unicorn as she's sucking you?  Do you think you could stand it?”  Her tone lowered.  “You're not going to just come in her mouth, are you?  No, you're going to be a gentle-colt and take her properly when she's done.”  Her own tongue brushed his cheek and she nuzzled him as his head rested on her hip.  “Okay.  Watch her.”

Soarin' gazed down his own body to where Lyra was indeed lying between his hind legs.  One mint-green hoof was sliding up and down his sheath in a gentle rub, caressing his scrotum occasionally, with the other hoof still wrapped around his foreleg.  She was looking back up at him and when she saw his gaze, she bent her head and slipped her tongue out to lap at the underside of his cock some more, teasing the join between sheath and shaft.  “Mmmmm,” she breathed out, winking at him.  Her yellow eyes were bright and her tail's high lift betrayed her own arousal, even without being in heat.  “See, Bon-Bon, what did I tell you?  Nothing to be frightened of here.”  With that, she reached up and guided the flared head of his cock into her mouth again.

Soarin' whuffed at her, his hips desperately tilting upwards, but he was held down by the weight of her own body.  He could feel her tongue swirling and then the sensation of a deep moan vibrated along his length before she pulled off with a hard, stretching suck.  His cock slipped out of her mouth with a soft 'pop' and slapped back against his underbelly.

Panting, Lyra smirked at them both, her hoof caressing him up and down.  “So, okay.  I totally didn't forget Canterlot after all.”

“Knew it,” Bon-Bon said, wiggling her hindquarters as Soarin' groaned and managed to squirm away from both of them, rolling over onto his stomach again to catch his breath.  He could feel his erection pressing into the pillows and grunted softly as his hips instinctively thrust down into them.  With another groan, he forced himself to slow down, snorting to try and clear his head of mare-scent.

Looking over at Lyra, he watched her turn herself about and flop down onto her front as well.  Her forelegs were folded beneath her chin as she teasingly flagged her tail from side to side at him, exposing herself to him.  Oh, that was not going to help matters at all.  She was wet all right, her inner thighs sticky with her arousal and he swallowed hard as she glanced back at him and flexed the muscles that made the inner folds of her pussy 'wink' enticingly.

Holding himself back, he switched his gaze to a rather flushed Bon-Bon instead.  She also had her tail held high over her back, but she wasn't presenting herself to him.  Rather, she had her head tilted to one side as she watched him.  “Your wings . . . they don't spread when you're aroused?  I always heard they did.”

He chuckled giddily.  “Myth, mostly.  We spread them for courting other Pegasus ponies.  But it's not like, well . . . this.”  He shifted his hindquarters about a little, feeling just how slick the crown of his cock had gotten.

She nodded, then nudged at him softly.  “Go on, take her.  She thinks if I watch you and see that it's okay, I won't be as nervous when it's my turn.”

Soarin' whuffed again and pressed back at her with his nose.  “Okay.  But don't blame me if you've just jinxed it.”

There came a snort from over Lyra's shoulder and her back legs shook, possibly with laughter.  Then Soarin sidled closer and stretched his neck out to give her a sniff and soft puff of breath, which made her go quite still.  He could feel Bon-Bon watching, so instead of hopping up and mounting Lyra right then and there, he gently shoved his muzzle between her thighs and gave her sopping pussy a firm lick.

Her yelp was impressive, as was the churn of her rump against his mouth.  Her tail dropped onto his forelock with a soft whump and Lyra writhed as he buried his muzzle into her and started lapping.  “Eeeeeeee!”

She may not have been in heat, but she was glistening as he nosed at her and swiped his tongue up and down along her folds of her pussy.  Her own scent nearly made his head swim and he snorted softly against her, earning himself an extra buck backwards as she rammed herself against his nose in desire.  She was getting wetter the more he dug in, dripping as quickly as he could lap it up and his own breathing felt every bit as warm as the heat shimmering off of her haunches.  

Her squirming grew more frantic as his tongue lapped up and down.  And as he spread her open with his muzzle, he shoved and licked up at a small, hard nub that he'd felt time and again beneath his tongue.  Only this time Lyra came with a small cry.  Her haunches twitched and she shuddered all over, but she rode his tongue steadily through it all with soft whines.  It wasn't a flashy, screaming orgasm, but it was a hard one and she let him know how just much pleasure she was feeling.

It seemed ages before the waves of her climax finished rolling through her, but eventually Lyra wriggled herself free of his mouth.  As she heaved herself forward, her tail slapped itself roughly against her wet pussy before lifting up over her back again, moistening his nose in passing.  “Ooooooh.  Not that I want you to stop,” she gasped out.  “That was marvellous and I could do with another dozen of those.  But we really should . . .”  She squirmed in desire.

Soarin' mentally agreed and staggered to his feet as she lay splayed out in front of him, her hindquarters hiked in the air.  A whole pile of pillows, even sewn-together ones, weren't the most stable of surfaces, and he silently thanked Celestia as he managed to mount Lyra from behind without losing his footing.

As he slid his front hooves down her back, he felt his shaft brushing her underbelly and knew he had missed.  But it didn't matter to her as she whinnied and shifted her thighs to tease at him as he eased back.  Rearing again and readjusting, Soarin' felt his tip part her folds properly this time and groaned as he was enveloped, slowly pulled in by her wet heat.

Lyra's next whinny was low and long, just like his push.  She writhed as he sank down into her, his forelegs hugging her sides and his nose nuzzling the crest of her mane.  He tried to be gentle, good, and slow, resisting the temptation to hammer down with his hips.  And as he slid all the way in, Lyra gave a deep sigh and twitched her hindquarters up against him.  Her pert little nose came up as she tilted her head back and she whuffed as she nuzzled at him.  “Gooooood,” she nickered.  “Oh, that's good.  He's sooo deep in me, Bon-Bon.”

The creamy muzzle of her partner slipped in and a brief, three-way kiss ensued.  “Hmmm,” she murmured, sitting down in front of them.  “You look lovely.”  Her hindquarters wriggled against the floor and she gave a peculiar little whine of her own.

“I know that sound,” Lyra whispered, shuddering beneath him and corkscrewing her haunches in a way that made him snort and grasp her hips tighter, trying to hold her still.  “Turn around, babe.”

Bon-Bon obediently turned on the spot with a little prance and flumphed down in front of them both, lifting her tail and wiggling her rump enticingly.

Soarin' groaned to himself and snuffled eagerly, catching a whiff of her scent once again.  But it was Lyra who stretched her head forward and pushed her nose in first, eliciting a little buck and squeal from her lover.  Unable to hold back any longer, he slid himself back and gave her a slow thrust, grunting at the sensations.  Her own whimper was muffled, but he took it as encouragement and continued pumping, his thrusts picking up some speed.

“Mmmmf! Mmmf!  Mmmmf!  MMMMPH!”  Lyra's muzzle was pressed deep and her grunts were barely audible over her own increasingly enthusiastic lapping of Bon-Bon.  But her tail was swishing up against Soarin's stomach, flailing back and forth and nearly driving him to distraction as he held on and pounded her pussy.  Bon-Bon's own yelping and bouncing hindquarters only added to the stimulation and he was groaning and fighting hard to not completely lose his load inside her.

Finally, with a frantic wiggle of her neck, Lyra yanked herself away from Bon-Bon and twisted herself nearly in half to yip at him.  “Haaaahhhh!  I- haaah!  Mount her!  Ahhh... her turn!”

Soarin' squeezed his eyes nearly closed at the thought of having to pull out of this delightfully hot, slick mare.  All his instincts demanded that he keep going and finish inside her.  Even the gentle-colt instincts in him ordered that he at least keep going long enough to get her off again.  But there was another mare present, her own partner, and she could always take over Lyra's pleasure.  And he had come to do a duty.

Fighting a whine of disappointment, he withdrew, still hard and glistening with the evidence of her enjoyment.  As he dropped back down to all four hooves, he caught her tail in his muzzle and gave it a shake, feeling her pussy muscles twitching through it as she blatantly kept swishing it around.  Her own whine made it clear that didn't want to stop, either.  He promised himself that if Bon-Bon didn't make it up to her, he would.  Later.

He skirted her slumped body, not wanting to risk stepping over her.  Bon-Bon herself was already stumbling back up to her own hooves, her tail still tucked over one flank and revealing her own wet, pink, and twitching pussy.  With a snort, he gently crowded into her side and nosed her behind her ear.

“How do you want me?” she asked, nickering back at him.  Her whole body was trembling, but her eyes weren't wide and she kept pushing her flanks into his.  It was want, not fear that was making her shiver.  “There's a coffee table over . . .”

“No need,” he panted, unfurling a wing and sliding it along her withers.  “Just hold still.”  He winced and nuzzled at her quickly.  “Please,” he added, then gave her a soft nip in the middle of the back that made her give a tiny gasp and go still.  Dipping his head, he butted his cheek into her cutie mark.  He wanted to mount her, but not without a taste of her.  As he kneaded his head into her flank, he felt her shift and he had to nip again, just over her dock, and she squeaked and froze once more.

His tongue teased lightly at the back of her thigh, then up just a bit more.  The scent there made his nostrils flare.  The first lick was nearly heaven, and judging by her surprised moan, it suited her, too.  Another lick, this time all the way up the length of her creamy folds.  She was sopping, just like Lyra had been, and he pushed his nose nice and deep into her, just like he had to her lover.  Oh, she was good.  He wanted to lap her until she was spent, but neither mare would forgive him if he didn't follow through.

Soarin' took a step back behind her and reared up once more.  This time, there was no mistake with his aim and he felt her folds ease open with his first thrust, Bon-Bon giving a low, deep “Uhhnnhhhh!” as she was penetrated in a smooth, steady push.  The edge of his sheath met her haunches and he felt her squirm beneath him as he steadied himself with a gentle hug of her ribs.  Nosing at the side of her throat, he nipped her again softly.  “All right?”

Bon-Bon grunted softly again, nodding.  “Uh-huh. . . ”  She kept wiggling, her haunches pushing back in little bucks as she flexed around him.  To his surprise, he felt himself slip just a little deeper, even more than he had inside Lyra, Bon-Bon welcoming his sheath into her as well.  The thought made him twitch and her answering shift of her hips almost caused him to come right there.  Oh Luna, both of them were primed to go off.

She twisted her neck around to nose at him.  “Guess we're both ready,” she murmured, obviously thinking the same thing.  “Give it to me good.”  He felt her plant her hooves and brace herself beneath him.

He kept his first thrusts as gentle as he could, but soon the soft, wet slap of her flanks beneath him and the incredible moans and whinnies she made caused him to work her a little harder.  And as he pumped her steadily, Lyra sidled over to them both and kept Bon-Bon's attentions with little muzzle-licks and head-bumps.

She came first, her cry unmistakable and the sheer pull of her pussy made him go cross-eyed.  He could feel it all ending here, with his heavy balls swinging between his stifles, wanting to just empty inside her.  And as he stretched his neck out, gasping, trying to ride the wave she was cresting for just a little bit longer, Bon-Bon arched her head back and her tongue slipped out, lapping him under the chin.

Soarin' scrunched his eyes in bliss, helpless even though he was the one covering her.  His front hooves pawed at her shoulders, his weight all back on his hindquarters.  The sensations sparked by her hot little tongue were running all the way along his spine, making his tail flag up and down happily.  He just couldn't hold on any longer.

He groaned as he clenched his haunches, feeling the first gush spill from him as if he hadn't come in years.  There were white stars in his vision, nothing but sheer pleasure and the hot, pulsing sensation of finishing.  He could even feel the flare of the head of his cock inside her as he came and came again.  By the sounds she was making, she could feel the flare, too, knowing he was locked inside her and making sure she took it all.  And then it was suddenly all over and he was leaning on her, both of them swaying back and forth.

Snorting, Soarin' shook his head and managed to unfurl his wings, beating them softly to ease some of his weight off of Bon-Bon.  She was still braced open with her sides heaving, both of them flecked with foam.  A very bright-eyed Lyra was still standing there and she grinned at him.  “Nice performance, stud.  I think she actually enjoyed that.  Didn't you, love?”

Bon-Bon gave a groan that sounded equally pleased and dazed.  Her head came up again and she met his muzzle with her own, both of them nuzzling faintly in mutual acknowledgement of a time well-had.  
Then she gave him a sly eyebrow raise and her eyes flicked towards Lyra.  “She's insatiable, you know,” she breathed.  “You did good, but do you want to see how an expert eats out a mare?”

Soarin' gave a small laugh.  He could feel his length already receding back into his sheath, and he oofed as he slipped free, managing to get his hooves beneath him once more.  Bon-Bon had lowered her tail as soon as they were disengaged, but even that couldn't hide the evidence of their mating.  His come was slowly trickling out of her; the backs of her thighs and hocks were already streaked and she was incredibly rumpled as she swayed there, gazing back at him.  He'd never seen a prettier sight.

“Somepony's going to need bruuuusssshhhhing!” Lyra sang as she pranced around, giggling.

Bon-Bon rolled her eyes and nudged at her.  “And somepony obviously needs some more wearing out.”

As she pushed her partner back towards the pile of cushions, Soarin' sat back down and stretched his wings, giving a tiny grunt of relief as he luxuriated in the afterglow.  He had plenty of stamina.  He was, after all, an aerial athlete.  And he'd probably have to mount Bon-Bon again later that evening, just to make sure.  But the two mares needed some time together after all they'd done with him.  He could slip back upstairs, maybe see if they'd left the cake still on the table . . . 

“Nuh-uh,” came a quiet nicker, and he lifted his head to see Lyra watching him.  “No thinking about pastry,” she told him, smiling.  “You can do that afterwards.”  She cooed as Bon-Bon settled over her back and snuggled her head back into her partner's neck.  “For tonight, you're an important part of this.  So get over here.”

He tilted his ears forward and came over to lie back down with them.  Giggling, Lyra tugged him closer as Bon-Bon slithered down her body and then shoved her green and white tail over her back once more.  “Hold onto me,” she whispered, cuddling her head into his throat.  “Bon-Bon's got quite the tonnnnggggguuuuueeee!”


-*-*-*-


The warm evening breeze stirred Spitfire's mane as she came out onto the small ledge outside his loft.  Celestia was performing the ritual of the setting of the sun and it was low enough in the sky to watch as it sank beneath the horizon.  “Glad to see you weren't foalnapped this weekend,” she said as she sat herself down beside him.  “How was it?  And don't give me that goofy sort of smirk that would make me smack you one.”

He heaved a content sigh.  “It was . . .  different.  Did you know that there are ponies who consider that sort of weekend a usual occurrence?”

“Do tell.”  Spitfire gazed at him.  “You're all right, though?  They didn't break your heart?”

Soarin' shook his head.  “Not at all.”

She peered closer, eyes narrowing, before she nodded.  “Well, at least you're keeping your muzzle shut about it.  That bodes well for all of us getting through this.  Are they going to let you know if everything went according to plan?”

He nodded back.

“Need another day off before returning to practice?  I can come up with something involving Timber Wolves, if need be.”

With another shake of his head, Soarin' gave a gentle snort.  “I'll be there bright and early, like always.”

“Wonderful.  Since you missed practice the other day, you're providing the morning coffee.  I take mine with one sugar, two cream.  And because I covered for you, I expect the extra croissant.”  Spitfire put her head across the back of his neck and nestled into him briefly.  “You're welcome.”  Pulling away, she spread her wings and hopped into the air.  She flitted around in front of him briefly.  “You'd better be all right, Soarin'.  If you're not tomorrow and I see it in the air, we'll be having another talk.  And as your friend, I'm telling you that if we do that, I'm going to have to wing-beat the truth out of you.  Are we clear?”

He grinned.  “I wouldn't expect anything else, Captain.”  He watched her rocket off across Hoofington and ignore the curses as she blew in front of a Pegasus moving van, the angry Teamsters driver shaking a hoof at her.

Chuckling, Soarin' sat on his ledge and let yet another breeze ruffle his feathers.  Bon-Bon and Lyra had briefly snoozed together with him on that pile of cushions in the basement after the second or third go-round, but they'd eventually woken and brought him to a real bed in a guest room.  He and Lyra had exchanged gentle, if slightly awkward thanks, while Bon-Bon had simply hugged him and murmured her appreciation before they'd gone to their own room.

They'd all woken late the next morning and even over brunch there had been some discussion about whether or not they should try one more time.  But the high had worn off from the night before and both he and Bon-Bon were just a little too sore to consider it.

And so after packing his overnight saddlebag, Soarin' had accepted gracious hugs from both mares and come back home to Hoofington.  As he'd told Spitfire, they would send word once they knew whether or not they'd been successfully impregnated.  And if they were, they'd also talk more about his involvement with his future foal.

Giving himself a shake, Soarin' looked up and saw Luna's moon begin to rise.  He watched it for a while, contemplating the outcome of this weekend.  He still had plenty of questions to answer about his life from this point on, but he was sure of one thing.  He'd gone and helped another couple of ponies start a family.  Nopony could ever hold that against him.  He wouldn't be a father, not yet.  But he had become a sire.  If other mares couldn't handle that fact, then they wouldn't ever be the mate for him.

Snorting softly, he turned around and went back into his loft.  Even though he'd woken up late that morning, he needed to get some proper sleep if he was going to make an early-morning coffee and pastry run before practice.

Although . . . he supposed it wouldn't hurt to drop in down the street and see if that Earth Pony at Tasty Pastries couldn't have the order ready to go first thing tomorrow morning, just to save him a little time.  And while he was there, maybe he could snag a sample or two so he'd know just what to order.

With a whoop, he spread his wings, whirled about, and leaped out the open window.

*+*+*+*

END