Parcel Post Love (It Is Homo)

>Be Anonymous, stallions' man.
>It's finally the day.
>Finally, finally, finally!
>Your pony is coming home!
>Humming to yourself, you head down the hall of the hospital to his room.
>Poor Parcel Post had been gone for nearly a week; he'd only turned up in the last few days, covered in bite marks and some kind of goo.
>Fucking Discord, asshole lives in magic Hell, but he couldn't lift a finger to get your coltfriend home safe? Fuck this guy.
>If you ever meet him....
>You nearly lost it right there when you first saw him again. But for his sake, you kept yourself mostly composed.
>You did tell a mop to fuck off, but that couldn't be helped.
>As you near the door to Parcel's room, you can hear him talking with the nurse.
>"Shso the... The shaking will go away?"
>"Yes, yes. It's only temporary. It'll wear off over the course of the next few days."
>She sounds kind of irritated.
>Probably the voice - Parcel's lisp is ignored by most, but some ponies just cannot stand the sound of him slurring his words like that.
>You feel the slightest anger that she's passing such a judgement on your coltfriend. But it resides as you remember how you felt about him when you two first met.
>Got to admit, you wanted to slap his mouth shut when he first started up a stuttering conversation with you at that bar.
>And you especially wanted to when you realized he was trying to hit on you.
>Probably should have guessed that a bar called 'Steed' was for fags.
>Strangely enough, despite how you hated his voice, you were feeling charitable and humored him for an entire night.
>And despite him being a blushing, shy little wreck, he soldiered through it and even asked for a date.
>Which you humored him by accepting.
>And then another, and another, and you very soon found yourself not simply humoring him any longer.
>He's actually a very sweet pony now that you really know him.
>And that voice, you used to find it so grating how his voice always cracks when he laughs, and how he can't pronounce his S's correctly, but nowadays you just want to shut his cute face up with kisses.
>He has done extremely gay things to your mind.
>You realize you've been hovering outside the room for quite a bit, so you finally head in.
"There he is!"
>As you enter, Parcel leans up in his bed. His mailpony uniform was torn all to shreds, so all he's got on is a standard hospital gown. Without the hat on, his curly brown mane falls over one of his eyes.
>You greet him with a big smile, he meets you with a blush.
>"Ah! Hey Anon! Ish it time for me to go home now?"
"It sure as hell is..."
>You turn to the nurse.
"... It is, right?"
>She nods.
"Alrighty then, let's get my stallion outta here."
>You wheel over the wheelchair they've provided and then scoop him up from the bed.
>Parcel gasps and blushes even deeper as you lower him into the chair.
>"Oh my go-osh... I probably could have gotten in myshelf, Anon-"
"Ssh, I'll hear none of that. From this point on, you're not gonna lift a hoof for anything."
>The nurse is a bit taken aback as she realizes that you two are a thing. This kind of sight isn't exactly super common here.
>You wheel him down the hall to the elevator.
"You been eating your hospital food, babe?"
>He still bites his lip every time you call him a cute name.
>"Mmn, not really... The doctor shaid I need to, but I'm jusht... Not hungry."
"Aawe,"
>You reach down as the elevator door closes and grab his hoof.
"Don't you worry, I've got dinner taken care of already."
>"Really? Thanksh!"
>The elevator starts its descent as Parcel falls quiet again.
>You both wait in silence as it passes floor after floor, until he tugs your hand on his hoof closer to his face.
>Parcel turns and places a gentle peck on your finger; then he looks up at you bashfully.
>"I misshed you a lot...."
>You grin back at him and tighten your grip on his hoof.
"Oh, you cute little fuck...."
>You lower yourself down and put your free hand around his cheek, raising his face to meet yours.
>You press your lips against his. He lets out the smallest moan, subtly asking for more.
>Taking your hand off his hoof, you run it along his chest-tuft and grab a handful of it. You pull a bit, forcing Parcel to lean slightly forward into your kiss.
>Then you slip your other hand from around his warm cheek and up to his brow to gently push away the curly brown locks over his blue eyes.
>Beautiful, soft blue eyes. You still see that spark they had in them when you first started taking your dates seriously. He was so nervous, yet so hopeful, and oh so eager to please. You knew he craved your attention, but never pushed for a kiss or hug or anything. He was always trying to keep talking, thinking that if the conversation died, you'd lose interest. Every food date, he would try to pay for you. Then he started trying to come up with fun dates: theme park, circus, plays, all kinds of weird shit.
>You had to start turning down his ideas out of fear for his bank account, which he of course took as a sign that he was losing you.
>That one night, you asked him just to walk with you a little while after you two went and got smoothies, he thought you were going to break it off with him. He already had his head down and was starting to sniffle a bit when you asked him to sit with you on the bleachers at the nearby school track field.
>But instead of breaking him off, you made out with him for an hour like a couple of teenagers.
>You lean further in and plant a kiss on his forehead.
"I've missed you too, sweetheart."
>He gasps at your pet-name and closes his eyes. So you come back to his mouth and tenderly press your lips back against his. You separate with an audible smack; that makes him smile and open his mouth a bit wider.
>Your tongues nudge against each other, poking heads and rubbing. You fold back Parcel's hair and put your arm behind him, cradling him and tightening your embrace.
>Then the elevator door opens to a crowd of ponies waiting to get on. Parcel's eyes shoot open and he grunts in surprise at all the sudden onlookers. Instinctively, you withdraw and stand back up straight.
>The silence is deafening as the crowd looks back and forth between you both.
>"... Shorry."
>Parcel mutters an apology, while you just smirk at them. You aren't afraid to get caught kissing this pony.
>A majority of them elect to wait for the next lift, while an elderly couple files on, along with young mare who's trying desperately to not glance at either of you.
>The last few floors pass in silence, but you keep your hands both firmly on your stallion. On both shoulders, your thumbs gently knead the back of his neck. Parcel just keep his head down, but you know he likes it.
>You look him over; you'll never know how it took you so long to see how attractive he is.
>First, you found him lanky and dorky. But now, much later, you can see plain as day how his body is actually quite lithe and fit. His long, slender legs pour out from underneath the hospital gown; and beneath it, just out of sight, the bottom of the gown drapes over his hips like a miniskirt. Out from the neck of it, his little tuft of chest hair peaks up and begs to be touched again.
>You love his delicate legs; how he tries to fend you off by kicking and pushing with them when you play-fight, and how you sometimes pretend he landed a critical hit on you and let him pounce you while you're down. You love how they end in those four adorable little hoofsies that you like kissing so much.
>And, of course, you love how those limbs wrap lovingly around you on those romantic nights, when you nibble his ear and make his voice crack as he giggles, and you stare into each other's eyes and he asks you to kiss him while you both climax.
>Or how they stiffen up and shoot straight out on the rougher nights, when you bite his neck hard enough to leave marks, and tell him how he belongs to you, and you call him names you don't really mean to call him. You push his face hard into the pillows, and he looks back up at you with tears in his eyes and tongue lolling out while you pound his tight body relentlessly.
>You exhale as these thoughts warm you up; you can feel your girth pushing against your pants already. But you've got a while still to go before you can make love to him again.
>The elevator finally reaches the main floor and you push his wheelchair through the open doorway, out into the lobby filled with ponies coming in and out.