October Prompt (2020): The Moon's Fault (Patreon)

Notes: This one is for my ISaT lovers, have some more poly-wolves smut ;). From Kyla's POV for once.

I stared toward the head of the table at Camille, and then did the same across at Abby, giving them both a glare as I threw the five dice in my hand onto the table. They clattered. They rolled. They came to a stop.

“Yahtzee!” I yelled, throwing my arms up.

“Oh, come on,” Abby groaned.

“How are you the luckiest person in the world?” Camille complained.

“It’s my superpower,” I said with a grin as I marked my score, and then tossed my sheet down over the dice. “I win.”

“We got to do something else,” Camille said. “I can’t lose to her again.”

Abby cast a look around her apartment and asked, “Movie?” Camille gave a resistant hum, which made her say, “If I’d known it was going to be the night before a full moon when I asked you guys to hang out, I would’ve rescheduled.”

“But we hadn’t seen you all week,” I pouted.

Despite the flattered smile on her lips, Abby teasingly shook her head. “Well, it’s not like we can play a card game without me cheating.”

“Maybe we should,” Camille said, reaching up to flick the pendant on the necklace she was wearing – a gift from Abby that made the wearer’s thoughts unreadable. “I might finally be able to win.”

Abby laughed at that, but said, “If you two are restless, you could always go for a run and then come back.”

“It’s not that bad,” Camille said.

“Okay,” Abby chuckled, “I’m going to the bathroom, you two figure it out.”

She left the table and wandered to the bathroom in the hall, and I followed when Camille stood and grabbed the empty chip bowl to take it into the kitchen.

“Any ideas?” I asked, hopping up to sit on the counter as she put the bowl into the dishwasher.

When she finished, she turned to lean her hip against the counter and look at me, but she only stood there thinking about it for a couple seconds before taking one big, exaggerated step sideways to place herself between my knees.

“I can think of one thing,” she said, walking her fingers up one of my thighs until she reached the hem of my short shorts.

I grabbed her face, leaning down to give her a long, open kiss as her hands slid to my hips, and when her tongue brushed mine, the excitement it sparked in the pit of my stomach echoed in hers.

“I leave you alone for a minute!” Abby accused, stopping at the entrance to the kitchen.

Camille pulled away slowly, said, “It’s the moon’s fault,” and then pushed onto her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “We can watch a movie,” she added, and left the kitchen to pace to the living room, flicking the living room lights off on her way.

She was teasing me and Abby, I could feel as much in the connection, but neither of us protested as we rolled our eyes at each other and then followed her. She’d already plopped down on the left side of the couch with the remote when we got there, so I threw myself down lengthways to lay my head in her lap, and then lifted my legs just long enough for Abby to situate herself under them before dropping them over her lap too.

“You pick,” Camille said, passing the remote across to Abby and then laying her arm over my chest and stomach.

Abby took it and then set her free hand on my knees. “Want to make fun of a werewolf movie?”

“Yes!” I agreed.

“Sure,” Camille chuckled.

She opened the streaming service and picked the oldest werewolf movie they had, and then tossed the remote onto the end table beside her to rest her other hand on my shins. Being stretched across them like that with the weight of their arms over me was warm and comfortable, and I settled in as the movie started, hugging Camille’s arm to my chest.

The movie opened with a classic shot of a howling werewolf backlit by a full moon, at which Abby laughed, “At least they always get that right.”

I hummed my amused agreement, and we were all quiet again as the opening sequence of the protagonist hiking through the woods and getting bit played out. But no matter how old and silly the graphics were, and no matter how many other things the movie got wrong that we could’ve laughed at, we didn’t. Because Camille was still bad at sitting for movies, and we were both so restless from the approaching full moon that, when her thumb began to stroke back and forth across my stomach, I couldn’t think of anything else.

She didn’t seem to be aware she was doing it at first, and it was an idle movement. Inconsistent and occasional. But I noticed it, and whether Abby was consciously listening to my thoughts or not, her fingers started their own patterns across my knee and shin, and my restlessness grew. Every touch they gave made the sound of the tv more and more distant, and the pull of the moon made me so sensitive to it that the warmth of being so close to them spread, until it’d filled the space between their hands.

They both seemed to realize it then, because Abby’s hand set fully on my shin while her other began to draw delicate patterns over the inside of my knee. Camille’s fingers walked in place at the same time, hiking the bottom of my shirt up with each motion until she’d bunched it up under her palm and could touch my bare stomach. And the moment Camille’s fingertips touched my skin, it fired off an immediate tightness between my hips.

Every drag of Abby’s touch up the inside of my knee to halfway up my inner thigh sent jolts shooting upward, and every line Camille’s long fingers traced from my stomach to the tender spot on the inside of my hip sent that feeling ricocheting down. And every time that flash of need passed my core, I got more desperate for it to concentrate. For Camille’s fingers to inch lower while Abby’s worked their way up. For their touches to meet in the middle and give me some relief from the growing tension between my legs.

Abby wouldn’t. I knew that because we hadn’t gotten there yet. We hadn’t talked about it or drawn boundaries, not beyond the touch on my knee that merely teased at intimacy. We hadn’t talked to Camille about what would be pushing this too far because Camille knew how we both felt, and there was an unspoken agreement between us that we’d let Camille be the first to bring it up when she was ready.

But Camille was teasing too. She knew what I was feeling. She knew that every second that passed by as they both grazed those tender parts of me took that tightness at my core to a pulse. She could feel it in the connection. She was teasing herself just as much as she was teasing me, and just as much as my thoughts were teasing Abby.

And for every bit that my tension grew, their hands inched closer. Abby’s fingertips caressed as high as they dared, stopping a mere inch from the opening of my shorts like she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop herself if she got any closer. And Camille’s hand stretched farther down my belly, until she was no longer grazing from my stomach to my hip and was instead tracing the line of my shorts along that tender spot, from my hip to the button and back again. Teasing at what she knew I wanted.

What I needed. Because the pulsing at my core advanced to throbbing. My heart was beating in my ears as I silently urged Camille to close the distance. I flared my need in the connection to plead with her to do it, and eased my knee outward to spread my legs just enough to drive my point home.

She got it then. She dragged her fingers to the button of my shorts one last time and twisted it free. She didn’t wait to push the zipper down too, and my breath caught in my throat as she slid her hand under the hem of my underwear, waiting for the moment she’d finally touch me. But her fingers skimmed the edge of me on the way down and then traced back up along the apex of my thigh, and I clenched with need. My fingers squeezed at her arm as my knee opened another couple inches, and it was all I could do not to moan my desperation.

On her next pass down, she caressed all her fingers over the very center of me, grazing me with such a hint of contact that I couldn’t help pressing my hips forward into her hand. And as she started her caress back up, she finally added pressure to her middle finger, dragging it through the immense moisture between my legs to bring it with her as she made her first soft circle over my clit.

I couldn’t help moaning then as a waterfall of relief cascaded through me, and the same relief washed through Camille in the connection, and it shot through Abby as she sighed. And that relief finally broke whatever restraint there was left between the three of us. Camille and Abby both reached for the waistlines of their own pants at the same time as my hands shot down to my shorts. I lifted my hips away from the couch and Camille’s touch just long enough to push my garments down to my knees, where Abby used her free hand to help me kick out of them and fling them to the floor.

As I relaxed back into the cushions, I spread my knees as far as I could while Camille’s finger immediately found its way back to me, and that was it. We were all gone. All lost to our desire and need and completely unaware of anything else. Camille began to draw tight, fast, desperate circles over my clit that matched the pace of her own hand between her legs, so that every pulse of my desire that flared in the connection matched hers. I could feel her in every inch of me, so in tune to our connection that her pleasure was mine, and mine hers, and it filled me with heat. Filled me with such burning thrill that I could hardly breathe. But there was still a deep craving between my legs.

One of my knees was pulled up toward the back of the couch, so that the lower half of my leg was set over Abby’s lap, and every motion of her own hand on herself moved against my calf. I glanced down my body to look at her, only to find that her eyes were locked onto my core, watching Camille’s finger work through the glistening moisture at my center as I tried not to buck into her touch. And the hunger in her eyes made me realize the exact source of my remaining desire.

I felt empty. Not emotionally. Not mentally. But physically. Camille’s other hand was between her own legs and so all she could do was touch me. But Abby. Abby was in the perfect position to give me the only other thing I wanted.

I wanted her inside me. And her breath stuttered out as her eyes lifted to mine, but she only stared at the longing on my face for a moment before her gaze dropped back down, and her teeth bit hard at her bottom lip.

She wouldn’t. I knew she wouldn’t, no matter how badly I wanted it. No matter how badly I ached for her touch to join Camille’s, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t think about it. That I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like for two of her fingers to slide into me. And oh, how easily they would. I was soaked. Desperate. Open and pulsing and waiting. So eager to feel her that it was almost painful, and I could only imagine how hard I’d clench around her fingers the very moment they plunged into me.

“Holy fuck, Kyla,” Abby moaned, and she shifted on the couch so she was sitting back against the arm, facing me so she had a more direct view between my legs.

And it wasn’t almost painful anymore. I wanted it so bad that it was painful, and I grabbed Camille’s arm as I pleaded, “I need you to fuck me.”

Camille didn’t hesitate. She slid her hand down and immediately slipped two fingers inside me, and I pulsed around her as my back arched and I released a whimpered breath toward the ceiling. But Abby shifted too, and my gaze shot down as she rose onto her knees and pushed her hand farther into her pants, and I could only imagine that she’d just slid her own fingers into herself. I wished I could see it the same way she could see Camille’s fingers work in and out of me, and when I finally managed to tear my eyes away to look up at Camille, Camille was watching her too.

Camille’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, her mouth hanging open again as she glanced down at me, and then she looked at her own hand between my legs, and then at Abby. Abby tore her gaze away from my core to meet both of our eyes for several long seconds as she froze, and though she couldn’t read Camille’s thoughts because of the necklace, Camille’s face must’ve carried the same desire I had.

Because Abby licked her lips as her free hand touched the waistline of her sweats, and she whispered, “Off?”

I murmured my agreement and looked up at Camille, who hesitated for a handful of moments before giving the slowest of nods as her hand stilled between my legs. And it was like time stopped. Aside from the racing of our hearts, neither Camille nor I moved as Abby slid her hand out of her pants, two of her fingers glistening as it joined the other at her waistline. She pushed her sweats and underwear down her hips, and her thighs, lifting one knee at a time to slid them down her legs and behind her until they’d inched past her ankles and feet, and she dropped them over the side of the couch to the floor.

My eyes were focused on the space between her legs as she sat back on her feet, and by the flare of desire in the connection, I knew Camille’s were too. Because as Abby sat back with her knees spread, it opened her up just enough to reveal the delicate pink of her inner lips through the soft hair at her core. Camille swallowed loudly again as I stopped breathing, and Abby let us stare for a few seconds before inching her hand back downward. She slid two fingers along her center and used them to spread herself apart, giving us a better view as she rubbed once. Twice. And then she shifted her hand downward, those two fingers disappearing with our view as she slid them back into herself with a sighed moan.

The tension broke, and my hand shot down over Camille’s as I pressed on her fingers to pushed them deeper into me, willing her back into motion. She went right back to it, thrusting them as deeply as she could while her the heel of her palm rubbed higher up. She angled her fingers upward with every forward push, driving them into the most tender spot inside me so that the sharp pleasure shot through my belly. And with every withdrawal she dragged her palm over my clit, anchoring that firing of ecstasy back to my core where it was already building toward its peak.

And it wasn’t just me. Camille’s other hand was at work beneath my head, and her own head went from being directed toward me, to Abby, and then tipped back over the couch to sigh her arousal to the ceiling before looking at us both all over again. Every time she looked at Abby, every time she watched her fingers disappear into me and earned a burst of need in the connection, it brought her closer to the edge.

I could only imagine how quickly Abby was building toward it too, because her movements were increasingly erratic. She’d lowered herself enough to press the back of her hand against the couch, bracing her wrist against it as she drove herself downward to ride her fingers. Her hips bucked, catching over an exhaled burst of pleasure with every forward thrust so that her thighs shook and her momentum staggered. And she withdrew after every breath, inhaling sharp and quick just to get enough air to rock herself forward again.

She was the first to say, “As soon as I touch myself, I’m done.”

And it made my breath stutter out of my lungs as I gasped, “Do it.”

She didn’t hesitate. She removed her fingers, using two of them to spread herself apart so we could see it clearly when her middle finger began to draw circles over her core, and Camille instantly pulled out of me to find my clit instead.

It shot me straight to the edge, and the very next moment, Abby tipped over it. She let out a whimpered gasp as her hips jerked forward into her hand, and the way her mouth fell open with ecstasy as her eyes squeezed shut sent me and Camille over at the same time. Every muscle in my body clenched as my back arched away from the couch, pressing myself harder against Camille’s finger as the first several pulses of climax shot through me. My fingers dug into Camille’s arm, the waves of tension flexing her forearm beneath my grip as she rolled through her own beats of orgasm.

No matter how hard it was to keep my eyes open, I did, because I didn’t want to miss a second of the look on Camille’s face, or on Abby’s. I needed to see it as they both spiraled through the stages of pleasure. As they both went from tense, jagged breaths and pulsing bursts to shaky sighs and gentle aftershocks. My own climax faded into a euphoric hum as I relaxed back into the cushion, letting out a heavy exhale of relief.

While Camille’s hand settled lazily over my pelvis, I let my legs fall outward to either side of Abby, stretching my shins and feet to work out the lingering tension in the muscles I’d been clenching. Camille withdrew her other hand from her pants and dropped her head back over the couch again, panting for air while she recovered. Abby slumped with exhaustion as she sat back on her feet, resting her hands on my shins while her own chest heaved with remaining breathlessness.

For a couple of minutes, we all just stayed like that. Quiet except for our breathing. Still except for the wavering of our gazes as we looked around at each other. And it didn’t seem like any of us knew what to say afterward, or what to do, or where to go. None of us wanted to cut our time together short just because we didn’t know how to proceed, but there was a new tension that grew with every silent moment that passed by. It was a typical post-sex awkwardness that Camille and I had long since gotten over, but we hadn’t gotten there with Abby. We hadn’t done this enough times to.

The only comfort was that, just like every other time, there was no regret. Not for me, and not in the connection, and not on Abby’s face.

Fortunately, Abby seemed to know how to break that tension, at least initially, because she glanced downward at herself and laughed, “I’m going to go clean up before I make a mess of my brand new couch.”

My eyes widened, and I reached beneath myself to check if I’d made a mess, sighing with relief that I hadn’t. Abby laughed at me, patted my shin, and pushed herself off the couch. She grabbed her sweats and underwear off the floor, not bothering to put them back on yet as she wandered toward the bedroom and disappeared.

Camille was still completely limp with her head drooped back, so I sat up and turned to press a kiss to her cheek while I got off the couch too, and all she managed to do was give an open-mouthed hum from her throat.

“You alive?” I asked.

“Full moon who?” she asked, dropping one arm over the side of the couch to pull the recliner lever. The footrest extended outward, and she expended just enough energy to push the backrest down so that she was fully reclined. “I could fall asleep right now.”

I laughed as I reached to the floor to grab my own clothing. After I pulled it back on, I leaned over Camille to give her another kiss on the lips before I sprawled myself back out on the couch with my head on her lap.

It was only seconds later that Abby returned, asking, “Should we finish the movie?”

“Yeah,” I answered, “it doesn’t seem like we missed much anyway.” And as she reached the side of the couch, I offered the only thing I could think of to relieve the last remaining post-sex tension. I patted my stomach and created enough space between my legs that she could lie down between them.

She accepted the offer immediately, dropping down onto her stomach between my legs to lay her head on my belly, and stretching her arms forward at my sides. I set one of my arms over her back while I stretched my other above my head, until I found one of Camille’s hands so I could hold it, and then we lay there. So quiet that after a minute I couldn’t tell if either of them were awake or if they were watching the movie, but my own eyes were drifting shut with how relaxed I was being sandwiched between them. And I didn’t know when Camille would want to talk about it, or what the outcome of it would be, but what I did know was that until that day, what the three of us had going was going pretty damn great.