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Why any of them ever thought Chetney was a rogue is baffling to Ashton. Chet couldn’t possibly make any more noise as he crashes through the jungle brush back toward the campfire where the rest of them are relaxing after dinner. He also reeks of sex so strongly that Ashton’s surprised the smell isn’t actually visible.
“I can’t…” Chetney’s muttering to no one in particular as he limps up to the fire, hat askew and pants only partially buttoned. He’d made it his mission to, uh, help Fearne through some of the unexpected side effects of that trippy mushroom that cropped up later, but it looks like now he’s tagging out. “Need to rest. Just a quick nap. Not as young as I used to be.”
Orym perks up quickly at his arrival. “How’s Fearne?”
Chetney rolls his eyes as he flops to the ground. “Still going. I told her, just let me rest a little and I can catch up. Even better, I can wolf out, give her the ol’… you know.”
Ashton doesn’t know, but nor does Orym seem to have any questions about that. Instead, he just asks, “Does she need anything?”
With a sigh, Chetney says, “Yeah, yeah, she asked for you and Ashton.”
“Both of us?” Ashton asks, drawing looks from the other two. He’s honestly not sure which one he’s more surprised about—himself, since the bit of flirting he and Fearne have done hasn’t gone much of anywhere, or Orym, who doesn’t appear to be into women at all.
Again, though, Orym doesn’t seem flustered. He just turns to Ashton and quietly says, “I think it’s pretty clear what she wants us for. If you’re not comfortable with that, you absolutely don’t have to go.”
“What? No, I’m totally fuckin’ on board. I didn’t know that you were. Because she’s… y’know… a she.”
Orym just smiles placidly. “I get what you mean, but I don’t mind taking care of her. I’ve done it before, or at least I’ve helped. She can get a little… worked up sometimes, even when she hasn’t eaten aphrodisiac mushrooms, and it helps her to have some direction.”
All Ashton can do with that information is blink. “Oh.”
“She shouldn’t be alone when she’s like this, but I’m a pretty clear third choice behind you and Chet. Would you like to come?”
Ashton doesn’t even think Orym intends the double entendre, but they were pretty much already sold. “Yeah, of course. As often as possible.”
Orym laughs softly. “C’mon, let’s go check on her.”
Ashton highly doubts that’s all the two of them will be doing, but they grab an extra water skin and follow Orym back through the jungle, leaving Chetney snoring by the fire with the others.
They follow the path Chetney took easily enough, finding Fearne in a clearing under the bright moonlight. She’s sitting on a blanket, obliviously naked, leaning back on one hand with the other buried between her legs. Buried and busy, from what Ashton can see, her ample tits jiggling as she rides up against the pressure of her hand.
They’re not trying to be quiet as they move into the clearing, but Fearne doesn’t look up, just grunts with frustration as her forearm works. It’s Orym who clears his throat and speaks first. “Hey, Fearnie. Feeling any better?”
She sighs, her arm going limp, and looks over at them, her pupils still clearly blown black from the remnants of the mushroom in her system. “Well, I was, ‘til Chetney went and left.”
“Aw, I’m sorry,” Orym says, looking utterly unfazed by the whole scene as he digs in his pack. “But he needs some rest.”
“He was doing so well,” Fearne says, shifting around until she’s sitting on her knees facing them, still indifferent about her nakedness. Ashton can’t help looking at her hand that was so recently occupied, how it’s glistening wet and still pulling at one pebbled nipple. “His dick isn’t very big, but he’s very good with it.”
“I bet he is,” Orym says with a chuckle, pulling some rations from his pack. “But everyone needs a break. Even you. Why don’t you go ahead and eat something?”
“I’m not hungry for food.”
“You need to eat,” Orym insists calmly. “Get some food and water in you, and then we can get on with what you called us here for.”
Her eyes light up, and she seems to register Ashton for the first time. “Oh, good. I want something bigger to ride.”
It’s not like Ashton thought they were here for any other reason, but they still reserve the right to be a little grumpy about being talked about as a sex toy. “Hello to you, too, Fearne.”
Orym regards Ashton as he uncorks a water skin. “Oh, uh, we’re working on manners, but Fearne’s still kind of… direct when it comes to her sexual needs.”
Ashton snorts. “I guess so.”
Fearne takes a bite of cheese and sighs. “I wish Dorian was here. He had such a good dick. Didn’t you think so, Orym?”
And that—not finding Fearne naked and masturbating, not discussing Chetney’s sexual performance—is what puts color on Orym’s cheeks. “Yes, Fearne, you’re right,” he admits.
Fearne looks at Ashton mischievously. “Oh, Orym just loved Dorian’s dick. I didn’t think something that big would fit inside his little body, but all it took was some patience and a lot of oil. Orym could’ve ridden it for hours.”
Huh, Ashton probably should’ve realized that the three of them had something going on, but what with Orym seeming so straight-laced, somehow, it’s still surprising. They shoot a look over at the halfling. “Hours, Orym?”
Orym clears his throat and takes a swig from the water skin. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”
“I mean, you said you wanted to ride it for hours,” Fearne says innocently. “Your legs gave out first, though.”
“Probably shouldn’t take any of us too literally when we’re full of dick, Fearne,” Ashton says obligingly, but Orym still looks like he’d rather be talking about anything else.
She crams the last of the bread in her mouth and singsongs, “Speaking of full of diiiiick, Ashton.”
“Here, drink this,” Orym says, handing her the skin. In the moonlight, Ashton can see that the flush on his cheeks extends down his neck. He has a moment to wonder what that flush looked like pressed against smooth blue skin, and it’s a damn good thing Ashton’s supposed to be getting hard right now.
His jacket comes off easily enough, and he’s opening his trousers as Orym takes the skin back, looking satisfied with however much he managed to get Fearne to drink. “Do you need anything first, apart from the obvious?” he asks her. “I have some oil in my bag.”
She shakes her head, huffing. “Just need to be full. It’s not as bad as it was, when I was itchy and hot all over, but I still feel all… empty and swollen. And dripping wet, though some of that’s from Chetney now.”
Oh, shit, Ashton hadn’t even been thinking about getting Chetney’s sloppy seconds, but it’s kind of hot now that he is thinking about it. Good thing he doesn’t have to be embarrassed about reaching down and squeezing his dick in this particular situation.
“Ashton, do you need some—” Orym’s voice cuts off as he turns to face Ashton. “Uh, I guess not.”
He shrugs. “I’m pretty fuckin’ easy, in more ways than one. Fearne, how do you want me?”
Her eyes are wide, and Ashton can practically see the slideshow of positions going through her mind. “If you could just… I want to be on top, but…” Her hand dips between her legs again and she moans. “Oh, I don’t know, there are too many choices! Orym, what should I do?”
Once again, Orym looks completely unfazed by the question, just deep in thought. “Hmm, maybe… Ashton, could you get down on your knees and sit back on your heels? She can be a little… aggressive when she’s on top.”
“I can fuckin’ believe that,” Ashton mutters as they kneel up on the blanket. Orym comes to stand a few feet in front of them, that same look of pensive concentration on his face, and it’s unexpectedly hot, seeing the normally-chaste halfling put so much thought into sex—even sex he’s not having.
“Okay, Fearne, why don’t you face me and sit on his—”
Orym doesn’t even get the words out before Fearne’s straddling Ashton’s thighs, facing away from them and reaching back to hold their dick steady as she lowers herself down on it. Ashton’s a little miffed that they didn’t get really get any time to look or touch—or taste—but they suppose this should be about what Fearne needs while she’s still under the influence.
And besides, their mind pretty much wipes to a blank slate when the head of their cock slips inside her and she moans, her cunt fluttering. “Ohhh, Orym, he’s so thick.”
All Ashton can see is Fearne’s back, smooth pale skin that starts to thicken with fur the lower it goes. So they can’t see Orym, but they can hear the soft laugh, and the coo of, “That’s it, Fearnie, take them nice and easy. No rush.”
“Haven’t had anyone this big since Dorian,” she sighs, her thighs trembling with effort at not just sitting right down on him. “He’s so hard, too. At one of those shops in Emon, I saw a big fake cock made out of glass. It was too big to slip in my pocket, but I bet it feels like this, all good and solid.”
Ashton really feels like he should say something, should acknowledge how hot Fearne feels around him—possibly hotter than she should be, though he doesn’t really know—but he finds himself unable to let out more than a choked breath. Besides, Orym doesn’t speak very loudly, and Ashton doesn’t want to miss any response he might have to that.
And Ashton isn’t disappointed. “Mmm, I bet that feels good,” Orym says, and he sounds closer now, maybe right up in front of Fearne. “Having something big and hard to fill you up.”
“It does,” she sighs, lowering herself down further. “Ooh, it does.”
“There you go,” Orym says, and there’s a sound of skin on skin, like maybe Orym’s petting her belly. Maybe low on her belly, over the spot where Ashton’s cock is pressing up into her. “All the way down now.”
Fearne crashes down into Ashton’s lap with a delighted little squeak, and she’s heavy, but all Ashton can do is gasp.
“Okay, Ash?” he hears Orym ask.
“Y-yeah,” Ashton manages after about the third try. The sheer size of her is staggering, never mind how hot and tight she is around his cock. He can feel something hot and wet dripping down his balls, probably a combination of Fearne and Chetney, but he can’t think about it too much or he might explode. “Just… a lot.”
“Yeah, I’d imagine,” Orym says, a soft chuckle in his voice, and how the fuck is he still so calm? Well, Ashton supposes, he doesn’t have an enormous heat-struck faun enveloping his dick, so that probably helps. “Can you give me your hands?”
Ashton feels sudden empathy with Fearne, enormously grateful to have someone tell him what to do when there’s absolutely no blood in his brain, and he reaches his arms around Fearne’s torso as she wriggles in his lap, getting comfortable. Small hands grab his, directing them upward, and suddenly Ashton has two handfuls of warm, soft tit.
He whimpers, fighting to keep his eyes from rolling back into his head.
“You can be a little rougher with her once she gets going,” Orym says, adjusting Ashton’s thumbs and forefingers until they’re gripping Fearne’s nipples.
“Can I get going?” Fearne asks, squirming so hard it tears a groan out of Ashton.
“In a minute,” Orym says evenly. “Just enjoy being full first. Why don’t you clench down on him, see how good that feels?”
Ashton doesn’t mean to squeeze his hands at the same time she squeezes around him, but it only seems to help. Fearne moans, low and sweet, and if Ashton’s not mistaken, her hand is busy with her clit again. “Mmm, it’s good.”
“I bet it is. Have you been coming a lot?”
“When I’m full, yesssss,” she says, drawing out the last syllable as she grinds her hips down.
“Why don’t you see if you can make yourself come like this first, huh? Maybe take some of the pressure off.”
There’s only so much Ashton can do with a six-foot-tall faun in his lap, but he can squeeze her tits and roll her nipples between his fingers until she squeaks. “Orym, oh,” she manages. “I think I can. I think I’m going to…”
“That’s it, sweetheart. Go ahead and come. There’s plenty more ahead of you.”
Ashton can feel her hand working furiously, fingertips occasionally bumping the base of their cock. They can’t really even rock into her, the way her bodyweight is pinning them, but they can try to join in with Orym. “C’mon, Fearne, come once and then you can fuckin’ ride me all you want.”
“Ooh, yeah, talk dirty to me, Ashton,” she moans, but they don’t even get the chance. Her sounds go high and breathy, and she starts to shake in their arms. They feel her contract around them and their own balls start to draw up, but they’re able to pull back from the edge, breathing through it as she rides out the rest of her orgasm on top of them.
If Ashton thought they’d get a breather after that, they’re entirely wrong. “Please, Orym, I need to move,” Fearne groans, already starting to bounce on Ashton’s cock as soon as she stops clenching.
“Yeah, good girl, go ahead and ride him. You’ve earned it.”
Something about the way Orym says good girl, the warmth and sincerity of it, fucks with Ashton’s brain. He can’t actually stop to imagine Orym whispering it to him, though, not with Fearne rising and falling on his dick.
Fearne’s riding him hard, her tits bouncing obscenely in his hands, and he’s only a little sad that all he can see is her back. She’s moaning more or less constantly, so loud he wonders if they can hear it back at the campfire. Ashton would feel prouder if he were doing more to cause it, but being used like this is equal parts humiliating and fucking hot. Fearne’s making sounds like it’s the best dick she’s ever had, but it’s probably the mushroom-induced heat or whatever, because Ashton’s barely even fucking doing anything.
He thinks she comes again, her cunt gripping him like a fist, but it’s honestly hard to tell, she’s moving and moaning so much. The noise is really doing it for him, too, and the way she’s slamming her hips down, hard as he’s ever been fucked, like all the best parts of a good fuck and a good fistfight. The dirt beneath the blanket isn’t very well-packed, and for some reason it’s that, the thought that she’s literally fucking him into the ground, that tips Ashton over. He’s coming before he can even get the words out.
He yelps, curling against Fearne’s back, but he doubts she even notices as he orgasms so hard it starts lights flashing behind his eyes, and for a moment, he worries he’s going to fly into a rage without meaning to. But no, it’s just a really fucking good climax, practically beaten out of him with the rhythm of Fearne’s hips on his.
A rhythm that keeps going even when he stops.
And keeps going.
And keeps going.
Tears are springing to Ashton’s eyes by the time they’re able to slap Fearne on the thigh, yelping something that isn’t even a word. Thank all the gods, Orym sees it or hears it and starts saying, “Fearnie, stop, stop.”
She whines but obeys, crashing back down on Ashton’s lap.
“I think Ash needs a break,” they hear Orym say.
“But I was getting close again!” She tries to clench around them, and Ashton’s oversensitive enough that they makes an embarrassing noise of pain.
“I know you were, but I think he came just now. Get off and let him up.” She whines, but Orym’s voice goes strict. “Get up, Fearne. I won’t let you stay empty for long, but I won’t let you hurt him, either.”
It should be mortifying, hearing a halfling threaten someone on their behalf, but instead, Ashton’s just relieved when Fearne pulls off. “Sorry,” they groan, gripping the base of their dick. Even without an erection, their dick is probably firm enough for her to ride gently, but they get sensitive embarrassingly fast. They try to explain, but all that comes out is “Didn’ fuckin’ mean t’come.”
With Fearne out of the way, Ashton can see Orym looking at them, an annoyingly gentle expression on his face. “I really don’t think you have to apologize for that,” he says.
Fearne huffs, and Ashton turns to her, preferring her look of scorn to Orym’s tenderness. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be good to go again, yeah?”
She just looks annoyed. “Well, what am I supposed to do until then?”
Orym steps bodily between them on the way to pulling something out of his pack. “Fearne, I told you I’d take care of it. Lie down and get comfortable.” Then, to Ashton: “Take your time. She’s usually not quite this needy, but she can get a bit demanding.” He pats Ashton’s knee. “Get some water if you need it.”
Ashton wants to take offense at being coddled, but he’s still trying to find his breath as he stretches his legs out, grateful to see that they work. He should really follow Orym’s advice and drink some water, but whatever weird, quasi-platonic-but-clearly-sexual thing these two have going on is utterly fascinating. How did Ashton not know any of this was happening?
Fearne is leaning back on her elbows now, staring down Orym grumpily, but Orym just stares back as he goes to kneel between her thighs. “Fearnie, I know you’re not quite yourself right now, but you have to stop when the other person says to, or when they do anything that makes you think they’re not having a good time.”
She sighs, tipping her head back. “I knoooooow, Orym. But this is so much worse than normal, and I just got carried away.”
“Hey, no harm done,” Ashton mutters, not quite ready to put weight on his legs. “I’m pretty fuckin’ hard to hurt.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Orym says firmly, lightly slapping Fearne’s thigh. “Fearne, say it back to me.”
“I have to stop when the other person says, or when they’re not having a good time, even if they’re made of rocks and I’m really, really close.”
It’s said a bit peevishly, but evidently it’s good enough for Orym. “Good girl,” he says, and damn, Ashton gets that little shiver again. Though it’s nothing compared to what happens to his nervous system when Orym follows that up with, “Now do you want my fist?”
“Ooh, yes, please!” Fearne squeals, eyes lighting up like she’s just been offered the rarest, sweetest treat as she spreads her thighs as wide as she can.
“Okay, sweetheart, you’re already stretched pretty well, let’s see if we can just…”
There’s the sound of a cork popping out of a bottle, and Ashton scrambles to his hands and knees, getting close just in time to see Orym slick his arm up to the fucking elbow with oil. His hand is a lot smaller than Ashton’s, obviously, and even Fearne’s, but it’s still big for his size—Ashton knows halflings tend to have big hands and feet, and not for the first time, they wonder if any of Orym’s other body parts are big for his size. But they don’t have much time to think about that, not when Orym’s tucking four of his fingers together and working them slowly into Fearne’s cunt, where Ashton’s jizz is still dripping out of her.
“Ooooh,” she sighs, knees falling open as Orym’s knuckles sink in. “Oh, Orym, that’s nice. You can go ahead and do the thumb, too.”
Orym smiles, pulling his hand out just enough to tuck his thumb against his palm and then push back in. It takes some effort—not much, but Fearne does squirm down against him and let out a quiet groan when his hand disappears up to the wrist. She must clench on it, because Orym makes a surprised noise. “Be gentle with me. I’m not as tough as Ashton.”
He looks over at Ashton and winks, and Ashton finds himself going strangely lightheaded. Orym’s entire hand is in Fearne, his arm glazed with Ashton’s cum leaking out of her, and he’s winking at Ashton. Ashton’s not entirely sure he isn’t the one who’s high on mushrooms right now.
“I don’t actually think I can break your hand like this,” Fearne sighs, her hands coming up to play with her breasts.
“And I don’t want to test that out,” Orym says, starting to pump his arm. “How does that feel?”
“Good. Full.” She relaxes back onto her forearms, her nipples pointing up to the cloudless sky. “Feels different from a cock, but good, too. Can you push against that spot I like?”
“Yeah, Fearnie,” Orym says kindly, rotating his wrist and angling his forearm until Fearne cries out happily. “That the good spot?”
“Mmm,” Fearne purrs. “Keep doing that and I’ll come again.” She tips her head back, looking up at the moon. “Ohhh, the light’s so pretty. It’s all fractured and rainbow, like crystal. Like Ashton’s head.” Her lips purse. “Is anybody else seeing that?”
Ashton glances up, but he already knows the answer. “Think you’re still trippin’ balls, Fearne.”
“It’s nice,” she sighs, breath hitching as, presumably, Orym hits her sweet spot again. “When I come, there’s colors everywhere.”
“Shit, I’m gonna have to try that mushroom,” Ashton chuckles.
Orym groans, but it’s a sound of surprising good humor. “Maybe wait until we’ve all recovered and aren’t in the middle of a jungle, please.”
“Mmm, you’d help Ashton out, wouldn’t you?” Fearne asks, arching her back and pushing down against Orym’s arm.
Ashton looks at Orym again, genuinely not sure what to expect. What Ashton sees is more flushed cheeks, and isn’t that interesting. “Uh, m-maybe, if they wanted me to,” Orym stammers.
“Of course they would,” Fearne says, grinning. “They can see how good you are at this. Ashton, he’s even better with a cock, just ask Dor—ooh!”
She squeaks, and Ashton glances down to see that Orym’s started playing with her clit. He sees them looking and says, “Ash, c’mere. You want to get her off this time?”
As if Ashton’s going to say no to that. There’s not quite room for both them and Orym between Fearne’s thighs, but Ashton can kneel by her hip. They licks their thumb before reaching down, and Orym surprises them again by taking their hand and guiding it into place. “She likes this,” he says, guiding Ashton’s thumb in a back-and-forth motion. “You can start to speed up as she gets closer.”
Amazingly, Orym seems less flustered by what he’s doing to Fearne than by his proximity to Ashton. Maybe Ashton shouldn’t push it—Orym’s surely got a lot on his mind right now—but they can’t quite help it. “You do this a lot?” they ask. “You and Dorian, working together on her?”
“Sometimes,” Orym says, starting to pump his arm faster. “She needs a lot of attention.”
“Do it faster, Ash,” she groans, and he can see she’s squeezing and plucking at her nipples now, the tension starting to build in her core. “Ohhh, like that.”
“That’s it,” says Orym, and Ashton genuinely doesn’t know who he’s talking to until he follows it up with, “Just keep it steady, Ash. Same speed, same pressure. Shouldn’t be long now.”
Ashton’s not convinced the world hasn’t turned upside down entirely, not when a gay halfling is calmly instructing him on how to get their female friend off. Even if they’re not entirely sure what’s going on, though, their dick isn’t confused—between Fearne’s increasing cries of pleasure and Orym’s gentle encouragement and the sound and smell of marathon fucking, it’s starting to harden again.
Fearne’s moans start to rise in pitch just like before, and she bucks hard against Orym’s hand and shrieks. Ashton does his best to keep the movements of his fingers steady, just like Orym said, only exacting the slightest revenge by continuing until she starts to get oversensitive and her thighs shake.
Orym just chuckles softly. “That feel good?”
“Mmmm,” Fearne groans. “Don’t stop.”
“I think we’re both gonna need our hands back,” Orym says, rotating his wrist as Fearne yelps.
“Um,” Ashton cuts in, pulling his hand back as soon as Fearne’s thighs open back up. “I think I’m ready to go again, if you want.”
“Ooh,” Fearne squeals delightedly, sitting up. “Orym, can I?”
“It’s not up to me, Fearnie.”
Ashton nearly shrugs, but then realizes he probably needs to be clearer to help Fearne with the whole “consent” thing. “Sure. How do you want me?”
“Hmm.” She screws up her face. “I liked what Orym was doing. So if I’m good and stay still, will you fuck me this time?”
“Happy to,” Ashton says, cracking a grin. “Should last longer this go around.”
He’s about to ask about positions, but she just rolls over, Orym barely getting out of the way in time, and gets her knees up underneath her. “From behind,” she says over her shoulder. “And really give it to me. Orym’s wonderful, but he’s not very strong.”
“You’re not wrong,” Orym says with a shrug. “But if anything hurts, I want you to speak up—either of you. I don’t think these mushrooms prevent injury or chafing.”
For a moment, Ashton thinks about taking offense to Orym acting as some kind of fucking chaperone—literally, a fucking chaperone—but it’s actually been nice, having someone around who seems to be in control of the situation. Pretty unusual to have someone who’s both in charge and nice about it, in Ashton’s experience.
Grabbing the oil, Ashton slicks himself before kneeling up and sliding back into Fearne with a groan. She’s still so fucking wet, probably a result of the mushroom, not to mention hot to the touch. He takes a deep breath once he’s all the way in, hips flush with hers, and strokes his hands down her back. Her lower back is where skin gradually gives way to fur, thick and soft by the time it gets to the base of her spine, which ends in the small flap of a deer-like tail.
Orym must see Ashton looking, because he says, “You can play with her tail if you want. She likes that.”
Ashton looks up to see that Orym has positioned himself near Fearne’s head, and he realizes it’s the first time he’s locked eyes with the halfling while buried inside Fearne. And Ashton’s not unaffected, seeing Orym’s normally steady gaze shot through with unmistakable heat. He gets the sense that Orym’s not just here because Fearne needs help; he’s here because he wants to be.
But then Fearne shoves back against him and says, “Whatever you’re going to do, do it now.”
Oh, right.
It immediately feels different this way, with Fearne on her knees and elbows, and Fearne squeals with delight on the first thrust. “Ohhh, that’s good,” she sighs. “Nice and deep.”
“Yeah,” Ashton agrees, getting a good grip on her hips for leverage. True to her word, she’s staying relatively still, letting them set the pace. Still, she can’t seem to help rocking a little with each thrust, moaning sweetly as her tits drag against the blanket beneath her, nipples catching on the fabric.
“Don’t forget about her tail.”
Ashton looks down Fearne’s body to see Orym kneeling directly in front of her, petting her horns as he gently admonishes Ashton. Orym’s still as calm and collected as ever, but from this angle, Ashton can see that Orym’s not unaffected by the scene in front of him. They’re not sure if it happened earlier and Ashton just couldn’t see, but now the bulge in Orym’s trousers is pretty evident.
Trying not to be caught looking, Ashton fits their hand over the flap of Fearne’s tail and tugs—first gently and then harder—until she squeals and wriggles against him. She likes that, and she likes a thumb rubbing firmly between the base of her tail and her asshole.
“Mmm, Orym, he’s good with my tail,” she moans, her hooves thumping lightly on the ground with glee.
Orym gives a laugh, but it’s hoarse, and when Ashton looks up, they catch the halfling staring at them. But he quickly glances back down at Fearne. “Good, that’s good, Fearnie.”
She’s feels like she’s winding tight again, so Ashton reaches around with their other hand, finding her clit and trying to touch her like they did to make her come before. In their mind’s eye, they see Orym’s hand guiding theirs, and a shiver works its way down their spine.
Having to pay attention to both their hands, the rhythm of their thrusts starts to get lost, but it doesn’t seem to matter to Fearne, who groans through a long, shuddery orgasm. When she’s done, though, she pushes up on one elbow and shoves her other hand beneath her body, slapping Ashton’s hand away. “Stop, stop. I’ll take care of that if you’ll fuck me harder. I mean it. Just grab me by the hips and go for it.”
“Oh, uh.” Ashton hesitates, though he can’t quite say why. He’s always careful with his partners, especially if they’re smaller or softer than he is—which is most people—but he doesn’t doubt Fearne’s ability to know what she wants. Still, he finds himself glancing up at Orym, unconsciously seeking direction or confirmation or something.
Orym gives a nod, and in the moonlight, Ashton can see that his eyes are wide and dark with arousal.
Abandoning Fearne’s tail for now, Ashton sets his hands back on her hips and takes a deep breath. His next thrust is almost hard enough to make his own teeth clack, and it makes Fearne yelp happily.
“Oh, just like that!” she cries, bracing herself on both elbows, her back bowed to bring her hips higher. The wet, slapping sounds of his thrusts are so loud they must be echoing off the trees, though she’s also laughing and gasping plenty to match.
Orym’s so close to her that her face is practically in his lap, and she rubs her cheek against one of his thighs. “Orym, please, want something in my mouth. Need something to suck on.”
Ashton doesn’t think Orym means to reach down and adjust himself in his trousers, but he’s hard enough that it can’t be comfortable. But he quickly pulls back, wiping the hand on the tail of his shirt instead and holding out three fingers to Fearne. “Here you go.”
“Can I suck your cock?” she gasps, and Ashton falls out of rhythm for a moment out of sheer fucking shock. “Please please please? You let me do it before sometimes, while Dorian was—oh—fucking one of us.”
Orym’s mouth is hanging open, and he has to close it to stammer out, “Th-that was—”
“You can pretend I’m anyone you want,” Fearne groans. “Please, please, just wan—nggggh—wanna make you feel good, too.”
Then Orym’s eyes flick up to meet Ashton’s before darting away again.
Ashton does their damnedest to not change whatever expression their face is making, because they really shouldn’t be part of pressuring Orym into anything, but holy fucking fuck, do they want Orym to say yes.
“Okay,” Orym says after a moment, and his hands are shaking as he goes to unbuckle his belt. “Okay, Fearnie, if that’s what you want.”
“He has the cutest little cock, Ashton,” she coos, her voice made shaky by the force of Ashton’s thrusts. “It’s so much fun to suck. You should try it sometime.”
Orym looks caught between mortification and arousal, cheeks and neck flushed even darker than before, and Ashton can’t help grinning. He hope Orym sees it. “Love to.”
It’s a good fucking thing Ashton’s already come once tonight, because the sight of Orym bashfully getting his dick out is enough to make their balls throb. Ashton’s no expert, but Orym looks reasonably well-endowed for his size, certainly nothing to be ashamed of. He looks like he’d fit nicely in Ashton’s mouth, or their hand. Oh, Ashton’s sure they could close their entire hand around all of Orym at once, get their palm nice and slick and gently squeeze Orym from root to tip and then release him, squeeze and release, until Orym broke and begged for some friction.
But Ashton only gets a quick view, because then Fearne’s head gets in the way as she takes Orym’s cock in her mouth with a wet slurp. Orym yells, almost certainly louder than he means to, and this time when he locks eyes with Ashton, he can’t seem to look away.
“Fearne,” Ashton groans. “Fearne, the harder I fuck you, the harder I want you to suck Orym, okay?”
She lets out a muffled affirmative, and Orym’s eyes go unfocused.
And then Ashton really puts his back into it, slow but hard. He knows he’s still got a wicked grin stretched across his face as he gives Fearne all he’s got and watches it get passed on to Orym. Fearne’s barely bobbing her head, but then again, she might not need to. She’s clearly using her tongue to great advantage, as Orym’s eyes keep wanting to roll back and close. But he keeps forcing them open, keeps them locked on Ashton, even as he pets Fearne’s hair and bites hard at his lip to keep from being as loud as he clearly wants to. It’s not long before he’s trembling and sweating, closer to losing control than Ashton ever expected to see him, and it’s enough to make Ashton’s toes start to curl in his boots.
Fucking hell, Ashton has no idea which one of them’s going to break first.
As it is, Ashton’s having to pull on reserves that he doesn’t usually use outside of battle, but it’s entirely worth it. Still watching Orym, he experiments with angles until he finds one that makes Fearne moan more or less constantly—and if Ashton can practically feel her muted humming in his balls, he can’t imagine what it’s doing to Orym. “C’mon, Fearne,” he groans, even though he’s barely got enough breath to spare for words. “His eyes… crossing. You’ve… almost… got him.”
She does something with her hand that Ashton can’t see, and Orym bucks like he’s been shocked. His eyes go wide, body locking up, and his head tips back with an almighty shout as, presumably, Fearne sucks the soul right out of him. It’s almost painfully arousing to watch, the way his whole body convulses with it.
Ashton’s so spellbound that he doesn’t realize he’s crossed the point of no return until his balls draw up and he feels the tell-tale flutter in his belly, and he only has the time to mutter, “Fuck.”
He tries to keep fucking Fearne through it, but he has no idea whether he succeeds. He’s too busy coming his brains out for the second time that night, curling down over Fearne’s back as the pulses of it rock through him. As soon as he can, he tries to brace himself with his arms, give her something to ride back against as long as he can. Luckily, just as he’s starting to cross the line into oversensitivity, he feels and hears her start to come.
There are tears in his eyes by the time she finishes, but when he pulls out and falls back onto his heels on the blanket, all he can feel is gasping satisfaction. He doesn’t imagine Fearne is quite done for the night, but she at least respects the moment and tips over on her side, also catching her breath.
Then Ashton can see Orym, who’s flat on his back at the other end of the blanket, chest heaving and an arm thrown over his eyes.
Ashton’s pretty sure their legs won’t hold them just yet, but they’re not too proud to crawl. They check in on Fearne, who’s once again dreamily looking up at the moon, and then make it over to where Orym’s laying.
When they get there, though, they find they don’t quite know what to say. They weren’t expecting the way this went, and they’re willing to bet Orym wasn’t, either. Even though Ashton has yet to touch Orym in any kind of intimate way, they’re wondering if maybe they somehow crossed a line here. If they shared in something that maybe Orym wasn’t quite ready to share.
Unfortunately, they express this by poking Orym gently in the ribs and muttering, “Y’kay?”
Orym grunts in response, not moving.
“Oh, Orym,” Fearne says sweetly, pushing right past Ashton and scooping Orym up into her arms. “Thank you. You’ve been just wonderful.” Then, to Ashton: “C’mere, he likes to be cuddled and told how good he did.”
“Fearne,” the squirming halfling in her arms groans. “S’okay. You don’t have to—”
“Real fuckin’ good,” Ashton says, setting a broad hand on Orym’s upper back.
“This isn’t about me,” Orym tries to protest. “Fearne, how are you—”
She drops kisses all over Orym’s head and squeezes him against her bare tits so hard Ashton starts to worry about Orym’s ribs. “I feel good,” she sighs. “Better. I still don’t think it’s out of my system, but it feels less… throbby. Less itchy.”
When she loosens her grip, Orym reaches up and touches her forehead. “Glad to hear it.”
“I’ve missed this, y’know,” Fearne says, tone softer as she sets Orym back on his feet. “Since Dorian left. I know we’re not… compatible like that, but you always made sure I was being good.”
“You are good, Fearnie,” he says with a chuckle. “Just remember to listen, even if your partner’s a—”
She’s interrupted by a loud crashing through the brush, followed by Chetney stumbling into the clearing and announcing, “Fearne! Your lover has returned!”
“—werewolf,” Orym finishes, but Fearne’s already turned her attention to Chetney.
“You want me to wolf out, baby?” Chetney asks, waggling his eyebrows, and Ashton get to their feet immediately to grab their jacket and do up their trousers. They don’t need to hang around here for this.
“If you need us again, just let us know,” Orym’s saying, trying to push the water skin into Fearne’s hands again.
“Sure, sure,” Fearne says, taking a half-hearted swig before turning back to Chetney. “Now show me those claws!”
Despite their best efforts, Ashton and Orym don’t quite get out of the clearing fast enough, and by silent agreement, they don’t say a word until they’re out of hearing range.
In fact, Ashton surprises himself by speaking first. “You’re good for her.”
Orym laughs self-deprecatingly, carefully avoiding a root on the ground in the tree-filtered moonlight. “She knows how to behave, she just needs reminders from time to time.”
“You’re good for all of us.”
“Oh,” Orym says, pace faltering though there aren’t any more obstacles on the ground. “Well. I don’t know about that.”
“Glad to know you’ve got a dirty side, though,” Ashton says, unable to suppress a grin. He almost makes a comment about never thinking he’d see Orym elbow-deep in pussy, but the halfling’s already so flustered that Ashton manages to censor himself. “I’m pretty fuckin’ impressed.”
“We just, um,” Orym stammers. “Before the Hells, when it was just the three of us on the road, Fearne and Dorian and I just… kind of happened. It was the first time in a long time for me. At first we tried to keep the… the intimate stuff separated, me with Dorian and Dorian with Fearne. But I care about them both so much, and we all had to share the same space on the road, and Fearne is Fearne, so eventually the boundaries broke down and we just kind of—”
“No judgment here,” Ashton interjects, slowly continuing to walk and hoping Orym follows. It’s a little poignant, even to Ashton’s cold, granite heart, how rattled Orym gets when he has to deal with his feelings versus how calmly he directed Ashton through fucking Fearne. “You deserve some fuckin’ happiness, you know? Whatever it looks like.”
“I…” Orym pauses, but he’s falling into step with Ashton again. “Thank you, Ashton. I’m trying to believe that.”
“And if it would make you happy to, like, have something kind of happen just between us some time,” he hazards, looking straight ahead, “y’know, ‘on the road’… Fuck, I think I’d like that.”
Ashton tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at the answering silence. They’re almost back at camp with the others—he can hear FCG and Laudna already. And then he hears from behind him, “I… I think I’d like that, too.”
He looks back, hoping the smile on his face isn’t too dopey. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Orym says, eyes warm as he looks up at Ashton. “I care about you, too, Ash.”
The sincerity in Orym’s expression squeezes at Ashton’s heart—maybe not so cold, after all. But there’s only so much of that shit he can take. “Not tonight, though. I’m starting to learn even I can fuckin’ chafe.”