BoozerBolts [Spitfire&Anon]

>Day Hole in the Wall in Equestria
>It’s not easy being Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts.
>As the leader of the Academy, it falls on you to scout and select the best pegasi in Equestria to be potential WB candidates.
>As an officer in the Equestria Defense Force, you’re forced to handle emergency situations in an instant; even if they’re far and beyond your ability.
>And as the handler for the performance team, well…
>“Hey, Cap!”
>You suppress a groan as Soarin calls out to you for the fifth time tonight.
>Dreading the sight that’s sure to greet you, you turn towards the sound.
>Wearing a stupid grin and an even stupider cowboy hat the stallion sits, squarely saddling a mock timberwolf, complete with thorns and woven branches.
>Rolling your eyes, you snort in irritation.
“What are you even doing up there, Soar?”
>“I’m gonna break the record!”
>Raising an eyebrow, you prepare to ask him what he’s talking about when the creature lets loose a roar.
>You feel the hairs of your mane stand on end as the sound reaches your ears and you watch wide-eyed as the beast begins bucking in an attempt to throw the drunken daredevil off.
>To his credit, Soarin takes the ride like a champ for several seconds before being tossed clear out of the ring, landing with a crash on a nearby table.
>The laughter of the crowd echoes off the walls as the brash pegasus wobbles back to a standing position and thrusts a hoof into the air.
>Once you’ve assured yourself that he hasn’t hurt himself, you shake your head and turn back to your drink.
“Idiot.”
>Cackling along with the crowd, the smashed stallion stumbles back to his seat beside you at the bar.
>He immediately orders himself another drink and you’re treated to a few seconds of blissful silence before he tries to talk you up again.

>Why did you let yourself get dragged in here?
>A shudder rolls down your spine as you feel another stallion ogle you from a corner.
>Not that you aren’t used to it.
>It comes with the territory.
>But with everything on your plate, you just aren’t interested in fueling fan fantasies.
>It’s gotten to the point where you’re forced to turn down drinks so that they don’t get the wrong idea.
>Your wingmate gives a heady sigh, letting you know that he’s reached the bottom of his mug.
>Better to get the first word in.
>Turning in your stool, you fix him with a cold glare, pressing your lips into a thin line.
“Soarin, why do you insist on coming out to these dives?”
>If he notices your displeasure he does a good job of covering it up, though from the way his pupils seem to be drifting about, he’s not all there to begin with.
>“What are you talking about, Cap? You know why I like little places like this.”
>There’s a clatter as another plate hits the bar in front of him.
>Your nose wrinkles a little as the scent of oven-baked bread and fruit tickles at your senses.
>“They always have the best pie!”
>With the grace of a charging minotaur, Soarin drops his muzzle into the pie tin and begins nomming and slurping his way to the bottom of the dish.
>You do your best to keep your lip from curling too high.
>It’s amazing that he can still work off the weight at his age.
>Not that you’re in a much better state, but the stress and constant activity of your positions keeps you busy enough.
>A twinge of jealousy rolls through your belly as you watch Soarin smack his lips and lean back on his stool.
>Turning forward again, you glare down at the beer in front of you.
>It’s not fair.
>But that’s life.
>Ten years ago, you did what you pleased.
>You were still a fresh face, working your way up through the ranks; but touring was just one drunken stupor after another.

>Then you got promoted and everything changed.
>No more wild parties.
>No more drinking until you blacked out
>No more late nights, unless you were going over pegasus profiles.
>Not to mention being woken up in the middle of the night by the local authorities who just so happen to have one of your wingmates in custody.
>That’s one reason that you had chosen to accompany Soarin tonight, the stallion had been stuck in binge mode as of late and you were tasked with keeping him out of trouble.
>Easier said than done.
>As long as he kept his dick in his sheath, he’d be fine, unless he had one of his morose fits.
>But you were prepared for both those instances.
>You don’t really like it, but someone has t do it.
>That’s the cost of being in charge.
>Taking another long drink from your mug, you reach the bottom and let it clatter against the counter.
>Without glancing over, you take a shot in the dark and hope that he’s had enough fun for one night.
“You about ready to head out?”
>Thankfully, you get a quick response.
>Though the fact that it’s not the chipper voice of Soarin sends color across your face.
>“Head out? I just got here.”
>Your head whips around, and then jerks up as you catch sight of the creature sitting in your wingmate’s seat.
>He’s big, a biped comparable to Princess Celestia at least, with long but strong looking limbs, perhaps not as thickly built as a minotaur but still imposing.
>Offering you a wry smile, he takes a draw off his beer and a friendly nod.
>A shiver runs down your back as you catch sight of the jagged canines which scream ‘predator’.
>You take a moment to collect yourself, shaking off any reservations that you might have and then smirk up at him.

“You’re in my friend’s seat, buddy.”
>Glancing behind him, the creature thinks for a moment and then turns back to you, the smile never leaving his lips.
>“I’m not your buddy, pal.”
>What?
>Despite your best attempts to hide your confusion, you can feel your face color again as he laughs.
>“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
>Jerk.
“Maybe so, but you’re still in his seat.”
>The creature looks thoughtful for a moment.
>“Your friend, he a stallion with big green eyes?”
>Bobbing your head a few times, you begin to scope out the dive for some sign of your wingmate as he continues his description.
>“Light blue coat, tends to have a stupid grin on his face?”
>A laugh rises up unbidden from the back of your throat as you nod again.
“Yeah, you seen him?”
>Lifting his hand, the seat-stealer points off into a far corner.
>After several seconds, you eyes adjust and your lip curls up higher than you would have liked.
>Soarin is sitting there, with a mare on either side of him, a fat mug of beer, and another pie, regaling the rest of the table with high-flying tales.
>That tightening feeling in your stomach returns, but you quickly brush it off.
>You’re not jealous; it’s just that he’s going to be at it all night.
>You sigh and lean towards the bar, catching your head against your hoof.
“This is not what I needed.”
>“Well, he seems pretty comfortable.”
“Mm, that’s the problem.”
>Well Spitfire, what do you want to do now?
>Soarin’s probably going to be up until dawn anyway, he wouldn’t notice if you ducked out now.
>You could send a pony to pick him up in a few hours and no one would be any the wiser.
>But it doesn’t feel right leaving him here alone like this either.

>Groaning, you’re about to drop your head against the table when a mug lands in front of you with a resounding thud.
>That’s enough to snap you out of your daze as you stare at the sloshing liquid before looking up at the bartender and offer him a small smile.
“Thanks, but…”
>The unicorn snorts and shifts his eyes over to the creature beside you.
>“Don’t tell me, tell him.”
>As the pony walks off, your neighbor takes another drink.
>“But, what?”
>You stare at the beer for another few seconds before pushing it a few inches away with your hoof.
“Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’ve reached my limit. One is enough.”
>Even before he starts to laugh you can feel your face grow hot with embarrassment.
>The very act of him smiling, once again revealing those sharp incisors, is enough to get your heart thudding away.
>“Just one? How boring!”
>Oh, that does it.
>You furrow your brow and scrunch your face up at him in your best intimidating glare.
“What do you mean, boring?”
>Despite your serious expression, it only makes him laugh that much harder.
>Dropping your hoof on the counter, you don the only thing you can.
>You snap.
“Stop laughing!”
>The dull thud draws the attention of some of the other patrons at the bar, but they quickly turn back to their drinks.
>Thankfully, your action had the desired effect.
>He stares at you for a few seconds and then shrugs, seeming to become more interested in his drink as he replies.
>“I was just thinking that you don’t seem like the type to be so easily satisfied.”
>Your heart tightens a little as you stare down at the counter yourself.
“Well, who says that I am? It’s just that I’m supposed to be responsible for a lot more than myself and so I can’t just do as I please.”

>“Kids?”
>You blanch as your head shoots up and you stare at him.
“Wh-what?”
>“Kids, they’re your responsibility, right? Or maybe a wayward husband?”
>Jerking his thumb back towards Soarin, the creature raises his eyebrow.
>You respond with a roll of your eyes and a shake of the head.
“While you’re not entirely wrong, the kids I have to watch over are supposed to be grown up. And even though it’s rude of you to ask, no, he’s not my husband, Mister…?”
>A relieved smile slips across his face as he holds out his hand to you.
>“Anonymous, human from Earth. A pleasure, Misses…?”
>Really?
>He expects you to believe he doesn’t know who you are?
>You give a short smile and decide to play along with whatever game he’s got in store.
>It could be fun
“Spitfire, just Spitfire. No Miss, no Misses. If you’re insistent, Ma’am will be fine.”
>Nodding in approval, Anonymous reaches across the counter and pulls the beer back to you.
>“Well, now that we’re not strangers anymore, how about we kick back with a few drinks and get to know one another?”
>Right out the gate and you’re already realizing this was a mistake, the little patience you have for this ‘human’ is wearing thin.
“I already told you-”
>His hand, his very large, very firm hand, slides over your hoof, dwarfing it with the sheer size and making you feel so much smaller than you’re used to.
>“I know what you told me, but I also know that you’re probably not too keen on leaving your friend behind, am I right?”
>You shoot a glance back towards Soarin and scowls.
>Stupid stallion.
>“So, until he’s had his fill of wine and women, let me keep you company. You look like you could use a chance to unwind.”

>Several seconds slip by before you turn back to the human and glare at him.
“Fine. But you’re not getting anything out of this besides the pleasure of my company.”
>Anonymous smiles and lifts his glass towards you.
>“Fair enough.”
>And then he drinks.
>And drinks.
>And drinks.
>The mug is drained in a few seconds and it clatters back down on the bar with a smattering of bits.
>“Bartender! I need another!”
>Despite his brash, brutish nature, you find yourself smiling a little and taking a pull from your own mug.
>Allowing yourself a free drink after so long is surprisingly pleasant.
>The next several hours pass in a rapidly increasing blur.
>Before long, you find yourself leaning heavily on the human, unable to suppress your giggles as words stumble along your bloated tongue.
“S-So tell me again, how it goes?”
>The red-faced Anonymous gives a small laugh and holds up his hands.
>“Okay, I walk up to you and I say, ‘hey, if I was in charge of the alphabet, I’d put you and me together.”
>You snort at the nonsensical pickup line, which sends Anonymous into another fit as you both struggle for air.
“And, and that works on your human girls?”
>Giving his toothy grin that makes your heart pound, the human shakes his head.
>“Once in a while, you’d be surprised how many gals don’t appreciate good humor.”
“Truly tragic.”
>With another giggle, you push off of him and turn back to your seventh (eighth? ninth?) beer.
>Your vision swims as you polish off your drink.
>Giving a satisfied grunt, you drop the glass back to the counter.
>You make an attempt to stare up at the ceiling, trying to clear your head.
>But as you spot the rafters of the dive you feel your head continue the trip backwards, your body quickly following suit.
>As you drop from the chair towards the ground, you realize how long it’s been since you were so completely and utterly hammered.
>It’s kind of nice.

>Closing your eyes, you wait for the collision with the ground.
>But it never comes.
>When your senses come back to you, you find yourself outside, being carried in the crook of Anonymous’ arm.
>Your face is cradled comfortably against the human’s shoulder and neck, and you’re treated to a vast array of wonderful scents, including a slight tang of salt and sweat.
>Instinctively, your tongue slips out and brushes against the exposed flesh, treating you to a delightful taste.
>A shiver runs through the supporting arm and you feign sleep as Anonymous stares over at you.
>But as the seconds tick by, you’re left wondering why?
>Here you are, a fully grown mare, playing games with some strange creature you’ve just met.
>Not only is it rude, but it leaves a terrible impression; you’ll have to set this right.
>You fully intend to open your eyes and apologize to him, but by the time you do, you find yourself stretched out on a rather lengthy and unfamiliar bed.
>Rolling onto your back, you glance down and see that it’s large enough to swallow you whole if you’re not careful.
>With a tired laugh, you kick your hooves in the air and watch the still shuddering ceiling.
>As you wet your lips, you hear a sound from nearby and give a pained grunt to try and draw the attention of whoever might be nearby.
>After several seconds, Anonymous walks back in, with a smile on his lips as he sees you.
>“Comfortable?”
>You grunt again, nodding your head but never taking your eyes off the human.
>The familiar not-jealous tingle returns, though it seems to be situated higher this time, tugging along in rhythm with your heart.
>In any other situation you’d fly over to him, but you’re not even sure you could get off the ground.
>Bed.
>Whatever.
>If only he’d get closer…

>To your surprise, he does close the distance and begin to fluff the pillow behind your head.
>“I’ve put your friend down for the night. He was complaining about pie.”
>You stare up at him, your mind struggling to come up with something brilliant to say.
>And then it hits you.
>Grinning, you hit him with something that’ll blow his mind.
“Soarin likes pie…”
>Brilliant job, Spitfire, you’ve won him over with your charms for certain.
>The human chuckles and nods.
>“So I gathered. I’d say you should teach him about moderation, but you’re not that good either once you get going. Well, goodnight.”
>Wait, what?
>He, he’s not throwing himself at you?
>This can’t be!
>But it is…
>Anonymous starts to straighten himself up, but before he can get to the halfway point, you lunge forward and wrap your hooves around the back of his neck.
>It’s a wonder that you didn’t sock him in the face, but you’re a professional after all.
“No.”
>You grunt, putting your whole weight into pulling him back to the bed.
>To your surprise, as well as his, you manage to get the human to fall forward.
>His face presses against your barrel as you give a relieved sigh.
>By the stars, this is so much better…
>Anonymous struggles for a few seconds before finally giving up and pulling himself into the bed beside you.
>Good, he ought to know who’s in charge by this point.

>The human lifts his face up away from you and stares into your eyes for what feels like an eternity.
>At last, you finally make your move and pace your muzzle close to his face, stopping with only a scant distance left between the two of you.
>Despite the scent of booze on his lips, you can’t stop yourself from taking deep, wonderful breaths.
>Even as you breathe in his air, you feel your eyes flutter closed again.
>A tingle runs through the entire length of your body, from snout to tail.
>You want to do more.
>So much more.
>But your body doesn’t seem to be responding.
>What a tragedy.
>This, dear Spitfire, is why you shouldn’t drink so much.
>You finally manage to get a stallion…
>Human…
>…male to bring you back to his place and now you’re too wasted to take advantage of him.
>Another deep breath sends your thoughts and concerns spiraling away.
>Who cares, this is enough, right?
>Your wings brush against the sides of your body and his as you drift off into a booze-induced stupor.
>While you’d hate for it to go to his head, you might have to thank Soarin for this.
>Maybe with a dozen Suicides…
>Yeah, that’d be nice…