Doug stumbles into the guest bedroom, finally acknowledging the burning in his legs. He crumples down onto the lone rug in the otherwise cluttered room, dozens of knickknacks and homely pictures strewn about. At first he just kneels, clasping his hands in front of him as his head bows. Jumbles of half-formed thoughts invade his mind, demanding his concentration and attention as they try to push themselves to the front.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” he says quietly, yet not to himself. He tries to concentrate, to filter out the legitimate concerns from the meaningless nonsense. Yet he keeps dredging up every whispered word, every hard look, every stomp of approval. He can feel the fury building, threatening to overtake him and consume him like the hotheaded redhead he used to be. It drives the exhaustion from his body as his mind turns to thoughts of revenge, of impotent fantasies and puerile retorts that he could have said, should have used.

His grips his hands against each other, his knuckles turning white, the muscles in his arms bulging at the exertion against himself. “But it certainly isn’t that,” he spits out, ashamed and enraged at his infantile reaction. “Lord,” he beseeches, his hands digging into his forehead as he strains against himself, “I know you are with me; give me strength to persevere. Give me wisdom, to know what to say and do.”

He darkly chuckles to himself, his head shaking back and forth. “I’ve heard,” he says quietly as his motions come to a pause, “that when you ask for advice, you want someone else to tell you to do the things that you know you should do. I know that I should forgive them, to be patient, to turn the other cheek, but it’s hard. Help me to make those decisions, to do what you would want me to do.”

He sits for a moment, his mind blessedly blank, before uttering an almost relieved, “Amen.”

Half of him wills his exhausted body to overtake him with sleep, here and now on the floor. But the other half knows he’ll regret that decision in the morning. He sits up with a loud groan, bending his knees as he stretches his groin muscles, holding the position for long seconds.

What am I going to do? Hands go to his legs, starting at his hips and working his way down, trying to tease out the kinks and knots. There’s just too many options, and it’s all so unfamiliar. It takes far longer than he thought to finally get to his first set of toes, massaging his worn and abused feet. A surprising lack of splinters gouged into him, given how much walking around on old wooden floorboards and rough dirt paths in the middle of an orchard. Granny Smith seemed oddly keen on making your stay tolerable, at least at the end. And you know Applejack wants you around. He works his way back up the other side, glad his arms aren’t feeling nearly as strained as his legs.

Would be nice to have someone do my back. No, somepony? Amazing what they can do with their hooves. I wonder what else they could do…

Damn it! Doug jumps up, trying to drive the half formed images of ponies - no, not ponies, Applejack - her muzzle pressing to his crotch, drinking down everything he can give her. He violently stretches his arms and back, willing sleep to overcome him, before flopping onto the twin bed. It’s barely long enough for his tall form, at least compared to the ponies, knees bending as he rests on his side.

Except he’s uncomfortably hot just moments after laying down, even with the storm cooling things off outside. He gets up, drags the thick quilt off, and roughly folds it at the foot of the bed. Or would they say the hoof of the bed? Regardless, the coarse sheets don’t feel any better against his skin, but at least they breath a little easier, and he won’t wake up sweating in the middle of the night. Hopefully. He pulls the one topsheet halfway across his body, attempting at least a modicum of modesty. Rolling to find a comfier spot doesn’t really work, his still hard erection making things far too uncomfortable, and neither does callously shoving the fluffy pillow to the floor, but he’s too tired to care.

As he finds himself drifting off the wooden door creaks as it opens and then closes, revealing a hatted silhouette. Her hooves noisily clop against the floor, barely muffled when she crosses over the rug, coming to a stop at the edge of the bed. It looks like she’s gussied herself up just a little, or at the very least brushed her mane out and tied it back up. There’s the faintest hint of alcohol on her breath, covered by the stronger scent of slightly spoiled apples.

“Doug?” Applejack whispers, as if afraid to wake him. “Are you awake?”

His annoyed exhale is enough for her to keep going.

“Ah was thinkin’,” she says quietly, hesitantly, as she searches for any excuse she can. “About what ya said before dinner. About, um, wantin’ a warm bed.” She tentatively puts a hoof onto the bed, watching Doug’s mostly closed eyes for a response.

“Bed’s warm enough as it is,” Doug grumbles, wishing he had his pillow to shove his face into.

“Oh.” Applejack’s downcast expression is clear even in the darkened room, and she furtively glances to the closed door she just came through. “Well, Ah wanted to talk, but if’n you want me to stay quiet, then Ah can.”

His response is to roll over, facing away from Applejack, then sliding to the edge to make room for her. There isn’t much, barely enough to share.

“Thanks,” Applejack quietly replies, eyeing the sheet he’s still under. Hot but still under the sheet? Somethin’ ain’t right. She slips a hoof underneath, the mattress sagging slightly as she climbs up and tucks herself in. She starts in the pony loaf configuration, tucking four legs underneath her barrel, before she mimics Doug by rolling to her back, facing away from him.

“Comfy?” Doug asks, his tone clear that he wants her to stop moving. He twitches once, then goes still.

Not really, but it’ll do. “Ah suppose,” Applejack replies. Wish Ah had a better pillow. Or one at all. “Can Ah ask you somethin’?”

“Just did,” comes Doug’s annoyed response.

“Do you still want to leave?” Applejack asks, perhaps more desperately than she intended. “You don’t like the work on the farm?” Her forehead scrunches up at the thought of him insulting her passion so, but more at the thought of him leaving her.

“I don’t know,” Doug says with a grimace, glad his back is to Applejack and she can’t see his face. “The work on the farm was fine. Not what I’m used to doing, sure, but the company made it worthwhile.” Didn’t we have this discussion?

“Oh,” is all Applejack can say. Why would anypony work so hard at something they didn’t enjoy?

“It’s just…” Doug hesitates, curling his shoulders inward and hunching over. Talking about this just makes me feel so vulnerable. And I want to bottle it up, build walls to protect myself. But if there’s one pony I’ve met that I feel comfortable around… “I just feel so alone. And scared. Like I don’t belong, and everypony in Ponyville knows it and hates me for it. For just existing!” He tenses up again, his fists clenching, trying to get his sharp snorts of breath under control.

“They don’t hate you,” Applejack counters immediately, rolling over to face his back. One foreleg lifts up, then hovers behind him. She tentatively lowers it towards his back, then stops.

“Okay, maybe hate is too strong.” Doug takes a single deep breath, slowly letting it out. “But they certainly don’t care for me, and wouldn’t notice when I leave.”

“That ain’t true,” Applejack counters. Her hoof gently comes down on his back, lightly stroking.

Doug snorts derisively, wincing at the rough hoof scratching his back. He rolls over, folding his arms across his chest, staring Applejack in the eye.

Applejack nods, her mouth suddenly dry. “Ah’d care if you’re gone,” she says quietly, reluctantly. “Because…”

Because Ah see Bright Mac in you. In the way you talk, how you whistle while you work. How you take responsibility for your actions, and don’t try to pin the blame on others or take credit for what you didn’t do. And now you’re in my life, and you’re filling those holes in my heart Ah thought would never be filled. Ah could barely take it when he and Buttercup passed. Ah can’t take losing him again, losing you, not when Ah can do everything in my power to keep you.

Unwilling to turn her thoughts into words, Applejack pushes up on her forelegs. A wary look crosses Doug’s face as she leans her long neck over, a tear dripping from her eye onto his bare chest. Then her lips come down, pressing against his in a feeble attempt to convey her deepest desire.

Doug barely kisses back, if it could even be called that, as Applejack presses against him. One hand comes up to her head, finger and thumb surrounding an ear and lightly digging in. You fool. You’re about to jump into the deep end. The other snakes around her side, running through the thick hair, then holding her in place. It’s a horse, or a not-horse, an alien.

“Ah told mahself Ah wouldn’t cry again,” Applejack mutters to herself as she pulls away. “Not over losing him, not over nothing.” She sniffles, turning her head away, ashamed. “And now Ah’ve gone and ruined that, too.”

How can you be so callous and cold hearted? Doug’s arms wrap around her withers, tugging her back into his warm embrace. Pony or human, she’s just as desperate for affection and acceptance as you are. Applejack pushes back just enough to get one foreleg on the other side of his chest before letting herself get pulled over his body, resting her weight on bent legs. Would it really be that bad to show her that you do care? He reaches an arm around her neck, hand wriggling into her mane, as he gently guides her head to his. Even if you are so afraid of caring so much, such that you’d never want to break it off for fear of the hurt and pain it would cause? She turns to the side, unable to meet his gaze; he lightly kisses her cheek instead. “Why?”

“Because Ah couldn’t take losing him,” Applejack whispers, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. She takes a deep breath, nuzzling his collarbone and listening to the accelerating beat of his heart. “Because Ah couldn’t take losing you.”

Doug goes quiet, his body tensing, merely holding Applejack against him. This is exactly what you have always been worried about. You need to stop, and turn her down gently. Figure something out when you’re not so tired.

...Or you can keep going.

Applejack can feel him getting larger underneath her, his trapped member pushing against her belly. She can’t help but smile, one eye twisting to try to meet his, but he’s looking at anything in the room but her. “So,” she asks quietly, trying to break the tension, “how was it?”

“The kiss?” Doug asks, a slight frown forming. What else could she possibly be talking about?

“Mm,” Applejack replies with a slight nod, smearing her tear-streaked muzzle on his neck. She meets his frown with one of her own. “That bad, huh?”

“No, it’s just…” Doug trails off. His hands dig into her sides, eliciting a low and contented moan. It makes him tense up, wanting to hear that sound again, to know that he’s the one bringing her pleasure, helping her through the pain.

It feels wonderful, but Applejack won’t let that distract her. “Come on, partner.” She nuzzles into his neck again, trying to find that sweet spot from before. “You can tell me.”

Doug briefly lets go, regretting the loss almost instantly, to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth. It comes away glistening even in the dim moonlight. He gives the slightest of smirks. “Wet.” He wipes the hand off on the sheets.

“Oh.” Applejack runs her tongue along the inside of her mouth, teeth and gums, trying to swallow every bit of moisture that’s pumping out of her. If only it was just coming out of her mouth.

His hand comes back to her head, lightly tugging her down again. She reluctantly complies at first, the fingers needfully digging into her mane difficult to resist. Her lips meet his, the brief touch far too short for either of their liking. Doug briefly smiles up at Applejack, concerned as he reaches a thumb to wipe the tears from her face.

“Better?” Applejack asks, revelling as his mouth curls to an affectionate smile. She dips back down, plastering him with kiss after chaste kiss before his hand locks her head in place. He holds her there only briefly, long enough for her to get the message as his kisses deepen, becoming longer and more forceful. It frustrates her to no end that their noses don’t line up better, that she can’t seem to find that perfect spot, but that doesn’t stop her from trying. Not in the slightest.

His hands quickly run the length of her body, from forelegs to flanks, before reversing course just before they get to her backside. His second trip is much slower, agonizingly slow, exploring every inch of her. Each squeeze of her tense muscles elicits a low moan that gets Applejack to pull back just slightly, huffs of breath escaping around Doug’s mouth. And every time he travels further back, towards that sweetest of spots, Applejack presses against him, practically enveloping his flat face with her long muzzle as she smothers him with kisses.

Soon enough and Applejack can barely hold herself together, her legs pushing her body scant inches forwards, only to relax and let herself slide back down. It’s an odd position, one she couldn’t take with another pony, at least with her legs bent like this. His thin body easily fits underneath her, almost like it's made to, and his smooth skin feels wonderful against her coat. Except it isn’t quite smooth, and she relishes every time a hair gets tangled up in one of his, the odd pulling sensation only spurring her on.

Doug grimaces as his painfully erect penis pushes into the soft belly fur of the nubile mare above him, every pulse digging into her and trying to force his way further back. If Applejack notices she barely relents, instead content to let her writhing get less controlled and more hectic. She couldn’t convey her desire any plainer, outside of reaching a hoof down and pushing him inside her eagerly awaiting marehood. His hands reach her flanks, testing and teasing the powerful muscles contracting over and over. He can feel the heat radiating from behind the mare, the dampness of her nethers, and how her already frenzied motions on top of him get even more persistent and needful the closer he gets. He pulls on her flanks, fingers taking turns holding as the others stretch her further apart; the mare above him mimes exactly what is happening to her marehood, mouth opening wider and wider as she pants, her eyes squeezed shut as she too shares that more than mental image.

And then he relents, hands slipping under her barrel and snaking their way to Applejack’s chest, the mare pausing in her motions. She doesn’t need, doesn’t want to take the time to recover, not when they’ve barely gotten started. A mournful, disappointed sigh gurgles in the back of her throat, her hind legs about to restart their pistoning even with his hands trapped between them. Her eyes open, pushing away from him just enough for her gaze to travel down their bodies, gauging exactly how far she would need to push forwards to line herself up with the member jutting away from his body.

Except he isn’t giving her a respite, instead finding a new path to travel down. He starts quicker this time, barely spending any time massaging her barrel, speeding towards the treasure under her tail. His eyes lock onto hers as he casually bends his penis down, the tip now even closer. Stallions ain’t supposed to bend like that. Ah guess he looks pretty similar, if a bit more pointed. Pretty close in size, too, now that he’s excited. Her worries dissipate as his hands continue along her belly, until he comes to a vexing stop mere hooves away from her marehood.

Are these? Doug asks himself as he reaches two rounded areas. Much softer than the hard muscles of her barrel, thin hair barely covers the twin nubs. His hands completely envelop the fatty mounds. He gives one side a testing squeeze, then the other, soon developing a playful, nonsensical rhythm that only gets him even harder. A small part of him can’t help but object, I can’t believe you’re going through with this.

It’s immediately outvoted by every other part of his body.

Applejack slowly settles her weight down, content to let him play with her foal feeders. Ah bet he’ll like ‘em even more once they’re full. So much so, his filly’ll have to wait her turn! Grinning at the thought, Applejack bends down, lips again finding his. Except this time she prods him with her tongue, slipping it inside to find his own when he opens his mouth up. She presses forwards, drawing his own tongue out, wrapping her lips around it and suckling like she was a newborn foal.

He groans under her, one hand and then the other leaving her teats to continue along her belly. He inches forward, straining to reach further and further, his kisses getting less enthusiastic as his search proves fruitless. His legs come up, unceremoniously pushing the mare, and she barely keeps herself from toppling over. She glances backwards, eyes going wide as he locates her outer lips, swiftly parting the long hairs and sinking two knuckles inside her.

She somehow keeps the presence of mind to reach a hoof back, placing it on top of his hand. His motions immediately stop as the rough appendage holds him, though she doesn’t let him back out of her. “Ah’m sorry, Doug,” Applejack barely gets out, her breath catching. Sweet Celestia Ah want him inside me. “But that spot’s only for mah stallion.”

God I want her. “Applejack,” Doug formally asks, the mare rewarding him by pressing his fingers deeper inside her, “will you marry me?”

The hell are you doing?!

Applejack chuckles as she drops down for a long kiss, though she holds his hand in place. “‘Fraid it ain’t nothin’ so formal,” she says apologetically, nuzzling her about-to-be stallion. “Ah’d be your lead mare.”

What in Tartarus are ya doin’?!

“Applejack,” Doug formally repeats, his fingers stroking in and out, her hoof fully willing to allow the motions, “will you be my lead mare?”

Applejack’s eyes twinkle. “Ah thought you’d never ask.” She bends down as her hoof gently tugs his hand away from her marehood, neither minding the sloppiness of her vigorous kiss. “Ah will,” she answers, her hoof reaching back and quickly locating his rock hard member. Doug grimaces at the rough contact, especially as Applejack doesn’t quite realize that he isn’t long enough to reach her marehood from there; her barrel is simply too thick.

“Um,” Applejack says, glancing backwards with a barely suppressed grimace. Ah guess we’ll need to get up and get to standard? But Ah was really lookin’ forward to ridin’ him like this. Maybe Ah can scoot forward even more, and lean back? But then Ah’d be sittin’ on him, all my weight on his hips every time Ah come down.

“Shh,” Doug says, carefully extracting his throbbing penis from Applejack’s hoof. She reluctantly lets go, allowing him to slowly reposition her another couple inches forward. “First time?”

“...Yeah,” Applejack says reluctantly, though not because she wishes she had more practice - she knows she’ll get plenty of that with Doug around - but because she’s regretting their first time not going perfectly.

“Mine, too,” Doug confides, one hand holding himself while the other searches for Applejack’s awaiting marehood. It takes far too long to locate the soaked area, and even longer to position his hips so that his head finally lines up with her entrance. Neither cares, though, and Doug pulls a hand free to stroke Applejack’s cheek. He softly pushes her shoulder as he says, “We can learn about it-”

“-Together,” Applejack finishes as she backs up, her stallion’s hard member pushing aside her long hairs. She gasps as he penetrates her most precious place, any thoughts or objections disappearing as surely as he disappears inside her. She stops as his arm firmly holds her in place, wondering if it gets any better than this.

And then he starts thrusting.

It’s slow at first, both of them feeling each other out, barely a quarter hoof slipping in and out of her each time. Except each time more of him goes inside than comes out, euphoric feelings flooding her mind like she wants him to flood her insides with his seed. Even if she ain’t in heat she wants him breeding her, practicing for when that time comes. Maybe not as much as Bright Mac and Buttercup - practically every night she fell asleep to the rhythmic knocking of their bed - but they’d find a rhythm of their own.

Any further thoughts are driven from her head as Doug speeds up. She moans in ecstasy, his arms wrapping around her barrel and forcing her up and down in time to his vigorous thrusts. She starts moving on her own and he’s only too happy to let her, hands coming up to cup her muzzle and stare into her emerald eyes. She gazes back into his deep blues, neither caring when he slips out from the unfamiliar motions, a hand merely reaching back to push him inside her once again.

Far too quickly for either of them and Doug feels himself nearing his limit. He’d try to stop himself, keep going all night long, but he can feel his exhaustion creeping up on him. Muscles burn as one hand yanks Applejack’s neck, heads pushing past each other, the other hand grabbing her flank. He screams, muffled by her coat, as he drives himself as far as he can into his mare. His mind fills with a blessed blankness as he ejaculates, flooding her insides.

Doug’s spent form falls back, head hitting the mattress with a soft ‘whoosh’. Applejack falls with him, resting on top with him firmly lodged inside her, nuzzling her head into the crook of his neck and rewarding her stallion with a soft kiss. His hands give one last rub before they go limp by her sides, leaving him with just one thought as he rapidly fades to unconsciousness.

What did I just do?

Next Chapter: Ch. 23 - Heartbreaker Estimated time remaining: 13 Hours, 21 Minutes