balio and sunder fucking. but not in a single shared sleeping bag b/c that's derivitive. sunder fists balio's sheath & then sheathfucks him & then balio cums and sunder is like yeah i love it when you squirt on my dick but like, needs a little setup of some sort too. something something nights when sunder's particularly horny, etc --- After a few nights on the road, both Balio and Sunder were getting pent up. They were both horsemen; it didn't take long, but it only took a few nights of jerking off, pumping out huge ropes of fertile unicorn spunk, before that stopped providing any real relief. There was a continual pressure in his balls, a dense ache, and each night his load came out thicker, more jellylike. Sunder was patient, though. Balio preferred finding somebody hot and needy whenever they ran into a village -- or at least, that's what he acted like he preferred. Sunder knew better. What Balio actually wanted was getting plowed hard by Sunder. Not that he'd ever admit it, but he'd seen it in Balio's eyes: the hunger when they'd set up camp, the disappointment when Sunder didn't make a move. The growing ache in Sunder's balls was worth seeing Balio fray more and more: his sheath always bloated in his pants, his hair mussed, coat drenched with sweat, tension growing between his shoulders, the needy way he moaned when he jerked off at night. He was practically pleading for it. But hell, they were on the long stretch between Wyndia and Syn City. Sunder could wait another week before making a move and still have a good four nights left over to fuck Balio. He wasn't sure when exactly it had happened; when he'd made up his mind, but slowly it settled into him: he can gonna make Balio break. He wanted to see all his machismo shattered; to see him begging and pleading for Sunder to give him the fucking he craved. It wasn't that pinning Balio down and giving him what he desperately needed wasn't fun. Got him hard just thinking about it. Balio was a cocky little fuck, the big older bro in charge: swaggering, arrogant, domineering. But he turned into a needy little bitch when Sunder's cock was lodged in his ass, down his throat, shoved up inside his fucked-open sheath. But each time Balio broke, he tried to put himself together: the next morning, act like it never happened, act like he hadn't been begging for Sunder's load all over his face. Putting on his arrogant persona to disguise how much of a cockwhore he really was. Sunder was getting a little tired of it. He wanted to shove Balio down to his knees and fuck his throat right there on the side of the road, and yeah, _now_ Balio would love it, but after he'd gotten off a few times he'd seal up, get all pissed, try to shove him off. Sunder wanted to get Balio on his knees in front of everybody, make them all see him slobbering and drooling down Sunder's fat horsecock. His cock jammed up against his sheath thinking about it, and Sunder stifled a hiss as the sloppy, drooling crown of his cock slurped out and mashed against the coarse fabric of his pants. Balio had noticed: he kept looking sidelong, gaze slipping down Sunder's chest to hang on the bloated tent between his haunches. Balio was getting hard too, huffing the air for Sunder's scent, his own crotch taut and bulging. Sunder wanted to knock him over and breed him right in the middle of the road, and damn anybody who saw. That night they set up behind a copse of trees, next to a little burbling brook. Sunder stripped down to wash the grime of the day off him, the low-grade arousal making his cock unsheath instantly, hanging in a heavy, drooping arch all the way down to his knees. His sheath oozed a frothy mess of backed-up pre, wet and slimy as it spilled down the raw flesh of his cock, and it was with a snort of amusement that he saw Balio staring at him, mouth open, lips parted. Balio swallowed heavily, and Sunder sure as hell hoped he was thinking about the whole thing getting shoved down his throat. Fuck, it had been nice training Balio's throat to manage the full bulk of his flare, spreading him open just above his stomach. The thought of it made his cock shudder, the pre-drenched flesh lurching upwards with rubbery jerks until it was sticking straight out from his body. He thought he heard Balio whimper when he turned to the side, showing off the full length of his cock. His balls ached. They churned, thick ooze burbling through them, and as he rinsed himself down his backed-up pipes shuddered and pulsed, sluggishly pumping out a thick, slimy burble of grass horse cum into the stream, oozing steadily from his bloated cock. The cool evening breeze all over his wet coat, billowing between his thighs, was almost enough to get him off. His flare shuddered, the fat divot of his cocktube pulsing and flexing, spitting out a thick, gummy ribbon of cum. Sunder groaned, painfully aware of his hand on his thigh, how if he just inched his fingers over to press into the heavy meat of his cock he'd cum right then and there. When he returned from the brook Balio was on his knees already, like he'd expected Sunder to come right up to him and shove his cock down his throat. He'd stripped down to his underwear, a twisted loincloth utterly soaked with his own pre, and he let out a whimper when Sunder stalked past him and sat on his own bedroll. He could feel the cogs turning in Balio's head, him weighing his need to get fucked against having to actually admit to it, to say out loud, 'why haven't you fucked me yet'. Sunder's balls smacked against his inner thighs, mounding against each other and spilling down in a fat, teardrop-shaped sack. They roiled, sluggishly pulsating, and Sunder ground his thighs together, hissing at the heated rush of pressure, cock spurting out a glug of pre into his already-soupy sheath. Maybe it was Sunder who broke first. He'd been leaking into his sheath all day, and all he could smell was the hot, grassy scent of their arousal. They stunk of it. "Beg," he said to Balio. Balio looked almost drunk, or maybe concussed: dazed, pupils blown, reactions sluggish. "What?" "Fucking beg for it," Sunder said, stepping close, almost chest-to-chest. Balio's nostrils flared, taking in their scent, and his cock made an audible _squelch_ in his pants. "You want my dick? Tell me how much you fucking want it." Any other time and Balio would stammer out a rejection, an insult, but they were both sopping in arousal, halfway into a rut. Balio just groaned, hands reaching out to feel across Sunder's muscular abs, and Sunder only barely had the presence of mind to slap his hands away. "Fucking beg for it, bitch! Tell me how much you want to choke on my cock!" Balio groaned, a deep guttural rumble in his chest. "Sunder," he slurred, hips rocking forward -- rutting his giant, mounded sheath against Sunder's belly, soozing so much pre it was soaking through the fabric and leaving big greasy-looking smears. Sunder snarled and shoved him backwards, and Balio stumbled back, arms pinwheeling, nearly tripping over his own hooves. Sunder followed him tightly, pushing him back off the road until he crashed on his ass in a gulley. He reached down and groped his own dick: he was leaking almost as much as Balio's; his sheath squelched when he cupped it, pre burbling out and seeping through the fabric. "Fucking say it, bitch! Tell me you're my whore. That I can use your throat, your ass, any time, in front of anybody. You act so tough, but we both know you're a slut, starving for cock." He squeezed his sheath, body wracked with a spasm of pleasure, the thick ooze of his backed-up pre wet and slimy under his hands. "You can get as much as my cock as you want. All you gotta do--" he paused, kneeling down before Balio, still sprawled out on his ass. "--is stop fucking lying and tell me how much you want it." "I want your dick," Balio mumbled, voice a whisper. "Say it louder." "I want your dick," Balio repeated, voice still quiet: hoarse, broken. The thing was, Balio was bigger and stronger. Any time Sunder pushed him, he could push right back. Hell, Sunder didn't like to admit it, but Balio would probably win in a fight if they got to that point. So when Sunder backhanded him right across the muzzle and Balio just did _nothing_ -- nothing but groan, his cock surging fatter into his sodden pants, bulging so much his dick might just rip all the way through -- well, Sunder knew he wanted more. "Louder!" "Sunder," Balio whined, breathing in short sharp gasps. His coat was damp, matted to his skin with sweat, and his pale skin beneath was flushed blotchy purple-red. "Gimmie your cock! Please!" Sunder just looked at him, expectant, and Balio broke: flushed, voice quaking; but still loud, almost angry: "I'm your-- I'm your slut! You gotta-- you gotta use me with your cock!" Sunder grinned, lips peeling away from his teeth as he whinnied in triumph. "That's more like it, bro." He leaned in, horn clashing against Balio's own. "All you had to do was admit it." He tugged on his belt, peeling his sodden pants away from the bulk of his dick, and both of them groaned as he unsheathed, cock already slimy and dripping. He was gonna blow his first load all over Balio's face and then fuck him until he couldn't walk, and fuck their schedule. Balio lurched forward, a jerky puppet, and buried his face against Sunder's sheath, letting his shaft gurgle out of his sheath all across his face. Yeah, Sunder thought, grinning down at Balio in front of him, hungrily bleating as he rubbed his face along Sunder's slime-drenched shaft. Yeah, things were gonna be different from now on. --- [and then they fuck i guess but i didn't write that part :V]