The Shapes of May

Jezebel was burned at the stake. She wasn't a witch, but she was close enough. They lashed her to the pyre and set the thing ablaze. Her nerves exploded in supernovas of pain. Her skin crackled and peeled away. Her muscles seared and her fat was rendered into oil. Her bones blackened and turned to ash. The mortals all around her chanted prayers for protection and the spirits said nothing at all. Orange eyes watched as she fractured into shards of incandescent light. Violently ejected from her dream, Jezebel sat up in bed, soaked with sweat and drenched beneath the covers. Her body heaved and her heart pounded and if not for the hands she held clamped over her own mouth, she would have screamed. "Hey, kiddo," her roommate whispered from the bed across the room. "You all right? You need a hand?" Danny eased languidly up onto one elbow, careful not to wake her girlfriend, who somehow found it comfortable to squeeze into the little bed beside her nearly every night. They'd been roommates for nearly two years, at that point, and she was familiar enough with Jezebel's night terrors—if you could call them that. Danny's special medicine soothed both body and mind, but it wouldn't be enough. She needed more than she could provide. "I'm going to get some fresh air," she said, as softly as she could manage with her ragged breath. "All right," Danny mused. "Happy hunting." She turned over and wound herself around her partner, ostensibly going back to sleep. Jezebel slipped into the bathroom to relieve her bladder and then stripped off her sodden pajamas, wringing them out a bit before she shoved them into the hamper in the corner. She considered the appeal of a cold shower, but she feared that would only stoke her fires more. Something about a chill in the air always brought her to mind, which was explicitly what she was trying to avoid. Back in their bedroom, she raided the closet for a thick-knit sweater that was long enough to wear as a dress. She pulled it on directly over her bare skin, stepped into a pair of well-loved sandals, and was out the door and into the night. Summer was on its way and the nights were already growing warm and damp—she fit right in. Even on a campus as large as this, few people were out and about at a late enough hour of the night that it might be better to call it morning, so no one impeded her progress as she swam through the night. She told herself that she didn't know where she was going, that she was going wherever the wind took her, but that wasn't true: she knew exactly where she was going and exactly why she was going there. Some fifteen minutes later, she stood outside a weathered townhouse that just barely qualified as off-campus. She skirted around the side of the building, eschewing the front door in favor of the fire escape. There weren't really any rules about guests coming and going at all hours, but that didn't mean she wanted to be noticed—and besides, she didn't have a key. A few light steps up three flights of ladders and she found herself knocking on an achingly familiar window. How many times had she done this? Enough that she only had to knock twice before Will threw the curtains wide and flashed her a sleepy smile. He'd barely unlatched the window before Jezebel pushed through and all but tackled him, mashing her lips against his, invading his mouth with her tongue. He tried to speak—whether in greeting or in protest, she didn't know or care—but she wouldn't let him catch his breath long enough to form words. She walked him backwards, step by fumbling step, pushing him towards the bed, but not before sliding her hand down into his sleep shorts and wrapping her fingers around the base of his cock. He responded quickly—how could he not—and was fully hard and throbbing by the time she sat him down on the end of the bed. Kissing him all the while, she planted one knee on either side of his hips, hiked up the hem of her sweater dress, and lowered herself down onto him. He gasped as the head of his cock met no resistance as it parted the folds of her quite literally dripping cunt—she was pretty sure she'd left a trail from the window to the bed—and followed through all the way in one firm stroke until her ass clapped against his thighs and bounced back again. She let his head fall back and rained kisses instead along the line of his jaw, down his throat, and finally along his collarbone, where she opened wide and sank her teeth into the meat of his shoulder. He gasped and groaned, unsure of whether she'd broken skin. It wouldn't be the first time if she had. Latched onto him in this way, she thrust her hips up and down, grinding back and forth, giving him no space for a gentle buildup in the face of her overwhelming need, filling the little room with the wet, slapping drumbeat of her overflowing sex. When he tried to speak, tried to warn her, she bit down harder, tasting iron, and he erupted inside of her, unloading several waves of hot semen into her deepest place. In those final moments, as his orgasm boiled over, Jezebel leaned back and closed her eyes, giving herself over to her fantasy, allowing him to be replaced in her mind's eye. No longer did she merely ride a simple man, her loving boyfriend, her dearest companion for all these years. Now she mounted a goddess, pale of skin with eyes of flame, returned from beyond the veil to quench her carnal thirst. "Fuck, Jezza," Will groaned, shattering the illusion. When she didn't immediately open her eyes again, he flexed his cock inside of her, sending her into a series of little convulsions from her ass to her ears. She blinked until she had returned to reality, where she found her lover smiling up at her with a warmth that briefly outshone the white-hot heat that still raged inside her body. "Hi, Will," she said, only slightly sheepishly. "I missed you." He laughed, but his mirth was quickly overshadowed by concern. "Was it another dream?" he asked. Will already knew the answer, of course. Whenever she got like this, it was always because of a dream, but she nodded anyway. "Tell me about it," he encouraged. While she spoke, he tenderly lifted her off of his cock and laid her on his bed, pulling her sweater dress up over her head before her back touched down on the duvet. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he slid her forward until her ass hung over the edge, hooked her legs behind his shoulders, and began to lick, running little circles around her clit before pushing his tongue inside, heedless of the gooey stream of his own leavings. Between the mewling growls stirred up by the pleasures of his mouth on her cunt, she tried to put her dream into words. It was difficult: the dreams were so vivid, but they defied easy explanation. The Thusia she had known had been a little girl—when she hadn't been a little fox—but that wasn't the Thusia who haunted her resting hours. "She was so large," she moaned, "and she was in charge. Not like the last time. The last time she was so needy and so small, she begged me until I gave all I had and it still wasn't enough. But this time, no. She needed nothing from me, but lord, she gave. Perhaps it was a kind of punishment, for failing her the time before." "It was a dream," Will reminded her, in-between laps. There were only a few things that she and Will didn't see eye to eye on—whether or not they wanted children was high on the list, right next to whether or not they ever wanted to get properly married—but this was perhaps the deepest of them. Will hadn't really seen any of it. He'd been outside Wexler's when the hounds attacked. He'd seen Thusia, of course, but he hadn't seen her transform. He'd never looked her in the eyes. So perhaps it wasn't strange that he had a hard time believing that Jezebel's dreams were something more than just horniness run amok. She'd tried to convince him by any means she could think of, but he remained a skeptic, however endlessly patient and giving. "She bound me in fire," Jezebel continued. "She burned away my clothes and made candles of my nipples. Only it didn't hurt. It burned, but there was no pain. Just brightness, inside and out. More than I could comprehend. More than I could bear." She felt her orgasm building as Will, artfully mechanical, ground his tongue against her clit from inside her cunt and then from the outside, alternating firm pushes and soft tugs. His fingers massaged her ass, drawing steadily inward, teasing her with the anticipation of the touch to come. "She had so many hands," Jezebel hissed. "And she put all of them inside of me." Will took this as his cue and drilled two long fingers between her cunt-lips even as he pressed his thumb into her asshole, already slick with their combined exertions. "I wanted to fight her," she sobbed. "I wanted to fuck her. I wanted to give her back what she had given me—but she wouldn't allow it. She just kept giving and giving and—" Sparks of fairy fire burst before Jezebel's eyes as her climax blossomed, her hips bucking so fiercely and suddenly that she feared she might shake herself loose of the bed, but Will held her in place, matching her movements without ceasing his own until her flow began to ebb. When she shivered and her cunt settled, however briefly it would remain so composed, Will crawled up beside her and took her in his arms. She nuzzled back into him, enjoying this moment of repose, loving the feeling of his naked body against her own, the way his chest cradled her back, the way his cock nestled between her ass cheeks. As it so often was during her tristesse, she considered that maybe she really could see herself settling down with him: a house, some kids, the works. But would it really have to mean settling down? A low purr began to thunder somewhere deep in her chest and he chuckled, utterly unsurprised. He let her turn over and wove his fingers through her hair, guiding her head to his cock, which she gobbled up greedily, taking him all the way inside her mouth, only just beginning to tickle the back of her throat as he gained his second wind. "Who do you need, tonight?" he asked her. She thought it over as she sucked up and down his stiffening cock, tongue squelching and lips smacking. There were too many options: how could anyone pick just one, let alone the right one? He pulled her hair by the roots, just hard enough to make her cough out a moan, and she made up her mind. "Domingo," she blurted. He smirked like he'd known who she was going to say. Cocky bastard. She clamped her lips tightly around the base of his cock and tugged hard, making him choke out a grunt of his own, but he just kept on smiling. Will picked up his phone from the beside and dialed Domingo. From what she could see of the clock from her vantage point, the sun wouldn't be up for at least another hour, but their friends were, to a one, a special kind of crazy—just like her. She didn't wait for Domingo to answer the phone before she chirped: "And Shuhui." Will's eyebrows perked up, but he just nodded. "Hey, Domi," he said into the phone, "sorry to wake you." A pause. "Yeah, you guessed it." Another pause. "We love you, too, bud. See you in a few." Will hung up the phone and grinned, but he didn't bother to explain the bits that she'd missed. She could infer well enough, and she didn't feel like stopping sucking on his cock, besides. After a moment, he dialed the phone again, waiting long enough this time to speak that it seemed he'd reached an answering service rather than the person in question. "Hey, Shuhui, it's Will," he said, confirming her suspicion. "Jezza needs some help tonight, and she asked for you by name. Hope you can make it over. We'll be at mine until classes start—" Jezebel shot him an imperious look. "—or maybe later," he concluded. "Oh, and Domingo will be here, so maybe bring your crop? You know he likes that. Kisses. Bye." He hung up and only then finally allowed himself a contented sigh. She'd worked him over pretty well, but if she knew Will—and she did—he'd be ready for more. Without hesitation, he pushed her over onto her back, removing his cock from her mouth with an audible slurp, and parted her thighs with both hands before pinning her knees to the bed. He didn't ask for permission, he just pushed himself inside her, filling her up even more than he had before. After two quick and hard thrusts, however, he stopped dead, only the tip of him perched at her entrance. "I'm going to fuck you until Domingo gets here," he instructed her. "Let's see how many times you can get off before he does." Jezebel grinned, parting her own folds with her fingers and coaxing her clit out of its hood even as Will drove back inside. She'd always been a fighter. //// The answer, as it happened, was three. But then, Domingo was unusually quick to arrive, that morning. He came in like he always did, nearly silently, without knocking first—not that there was any expectation for him to knock. It was always a wonder that a man so large could be so stealthy, but Domingo was a wonder in so many ways that it hardly made the list. He came over to the side of the bed, approaching just as Jezebel's third orgasm of the set was beginning to subside, and he must have been able to tell that Will was struggling to hold on, because he grabbed him by the base of his cock, pulled him out of her cunt, and jerked him off. Will's semen sprayed out over Jezebel's stomach in several thick strands—and Domingo didn't let him fall back onto the bed until he'd completed his deposit. There were two reasons why this was exactly the kind of thing that Jezebel had expected from Domingo. The first was that he liked to keep them all off balance, the kind of delightful destabilization that somehow only ever left everyone laughing, never crying. True enough, Will was giggling like a schoolboy, now that he'd regained enough composure to make coherent sound, like he had just become the punchline of a great joke. The second reason needed no explanation, as Domingo leaned over Jezebel on the bed, stuck out his long, pierced tongue, and began to lick up every drop of semen that clung to her skin. She wriggled under his attention, simultaneously hot and cold, wet and dry, rough and smooth, but she made no protest—how could she ever—and rolled and spread herself to present every angle he needed to leave her cleaned of Will's mess. To call Domingo a gentle giant would have seemed cliche, but one could hardly come up with a more apt description. He towered over both of them, possessing the kind of height that forced him to duck through doorways—and that was when he wasn't already going through them sideways due to his excessive breadth. Jezebel had known grown adults who were shorter than the span of his shoulders, or so it seemed in the blue-green light of the predawn. That alone would have made him fearsome, but then there was the cacophony of tattoos lining just about every open patch of skin below his neck, the heavy piercings in his ears, brows, lip, and tongue, and then his strange insistence on wearing camouflage, but never in patterns that made any sense. Where could you be hiding that cyan-on-magenta splotches would make you blend in with the background? Where, for that matter, did he even get them? But beneath all that, she'd come to know one of the sweetest, kindest individuals she'd ever had the grace to find in her life. He was studying to be a veterinarian, for fuck's sake. She didn't think she'd ever heard him curse, except in ardor, let alone a cruel word for any but those who would cause harm for harm's sake. It also didn't hurt that he seemed to like to fuck as much as she did, and that was saying something, even among her... what would she even call them? Jezebel loved them all—Domingo, Shuhui, and the others—just as much as she loved Will, but it wasn't the same. She never thought about having kids with Domingo, although he'd be the world's coolest uncle. She never thought about moving in with Shuhui, although there was no one she'd rather have living next door. She closed her eyes, trying to focus her thoughts, and orange eyes stared back at her. As suddenly as ever, she was violently reminded of her need. She wondered if Will and Domingo could see her cunt all-but-instantly swell and shimmer. Maybe they could, because Will helped her up onto all fours even as Domingo discarded his muscle shirt and purple-black fatigue pants. He'd already left his boots at the door. Domingo's cock was built like he was: broad and thick as a tank, if perhaps not so long as a tank gun. She didn't know how, but it seemed like he was always hard, too, at least whenever he had his pants off. When you needed him, he was there and ready, even if he'd just gotten off a moment before, even if you'd just said "Hi." Will reached around to fondle her clit, making sure she was wet and ready to receive her next challenger, not that she needed it. She took the opportunity to fish for his cock as it dangled in front of her face, catching it and sucking its soft length inside her mouth, tasting the last remnants of his last orgasm still clinging to the tip. Domingo, for his part, retrieved a condom from Will's dresser and rolled it over himself, followed by a heavy dollop of lube. He was nothing if not conscientious. Then, he sauntered around to the foot of the bed, clapping one big hand on either of Jezebel's ass cheeks and spreading her even wider than she'd spread herself. "May I?" he requested, voice reverberating through her even though it was soft as a whisper. "Please!" she squealed. He pressed his cock against her vulva, running it back and forth with a few quick strokes, mixing her natural wetness with the artificial lube, then pushed inside. Jezebel loosed a low and strangled yowl, thankfully muffled by Will's cock. It didn't matter how many times Domingo fucked her: it was always a bit of a shock, at first—a delightful destabilization. It was also a study in contrasts: he didn't penetrate nearly so deep as Will, but he was practically twice as big around, like getting fisted but with a gentler shape. Domingo bottomed out, his thick trunk slamming and jiggling against Jezebel's ass, then withdrew, only to thrust in and bottom out again, causing an even louder reaction to emit from Jezebel's half-plugged throat. He repeated this process a mere four more times and then pulled out completely, leaving her cold and empty. It occurred to her what he had in mind only a moment too late to prepare herself. Will was quicker on the draw and grabbed her by the back of the head in both hands, pulling her mouth fully onto him. He left her no space to breath, let alone scream as Domingo pushed his cock into her ass, spreading her hole as wide as it had ever been spread with the sheer unrelenting force of him. She didn't know how long it took for him to fully enter her—she couldn't remember what numbers were, let alone count—but she knew that once he started he didn't stop until he'd gone as far as he could go. Then, he started moving. She clamped her eyes shut to keep from crying—not from pain, there was no pain at all; she'd trained for this, she'd done it many times before, but that didn't make it any less utterly, familiarly overwhelming. And, in the darkness behind her eyelids, Thusia was waiting. Suddenly, in that place that was real but not real, in that place where she was herself but not herself, in that place where she could be everything she wanted but could not be, she wasn't skewered between her lovers, but between twinned fox goddesses, one large, one less so, both too beautiful and terrible to be believed. They were the ocean and she was the ice. She was passed between them on the curl of their buffeting waves, ripped apart and put back together again with every alternating thrust. Will pulled his cock out of her mouth when she cried out Thusia's name. Her eyes shot open in sudden panic, dispelling the illusion. Domingo seemed not to have noticed—or maybe he didn't care—kept on rhythmically pumping himself into her ass, an act whose ramifications her newfound clarity only heightened. Her eyes fluttered as the cascade of sensations crashed over her, bubbling up again from her ass to her ears. When she finally found the resolve to lift her head up to meet his gaze, she could have cried again. There was a kind of sadness on his face, yes, but it held no anger or disapproval, only resolute determination. He broke from her stare long enough to pass some silent exchange of communication between him and Domingo and Jezebel suddenly found herself in motion. Domingo was lifting her up by the waist and then clutching her beneath her thighs, lifting her wholly off the bed and into the air, all the while keeping her ass impaled upon his cock. He took three steps back away from the bed—enough to give Will room to stand—and she wrapped one arm around his thick neck to help support her weight. In all their bouts and configurations, they'd never actually done this before. It was enough to make Jezebel wonder if the two of them had been practicing without her. So much the better for her, if so. Will stepped lightly towards her, careful not to lose his balance while moving across the bed, and onto the floor. She could practically feel the heat of this wild, new energy coming off him in waves. He stroked himself idly, less in preparation than as an aperitif for what was to come. And then, when he'd drawn close enough that the head of his cock brushed against her clit, close enough that she really could feel the heat coming off his skin, the door to their little room opened and Shuhui stepped inside. "Sorry I'm late!" she bubbled. "And—whoa, hello, boys." Will wheeled around with an appreciative grin—Shuhui's entrance was never a thing you wanted to miss—and the soft sigh of disappointment that Jezebel let slip was so out of character that it immediately sent Domingo into peals of soft laughter. That, as a consequence, nearly stirred up another orgasm in Jezebel as the bouncing of his chest also meant the bouncing of his cock—and her astride it. "Oh, fuck, ngh," she gasped. "Domingo, you're gonna break me." "I don't think so, love," he chuckled, giving her a peck on the cheek. As if to make a point, Domingo smoothed his motion, but he didn't stop it, and Jezebel was forced to take in Shuhui's appearance while being dragged up and down along Domingo's cock in her ass. Thankfully, it was well worth the trouble on both counts. Shuhui wore a long jacket, thin enough to be in season but thick enough to hide what was held beneath, and had a tube on a strap slung over one arm. Normally, that would contain blueprints—she was on track for a Master's in architecture—but Jezebel could pretty much guess what it contained tonight, although she'd have to wait to find out for certain, as Shuhui tossed it onto the bed with little regard for its contents. She stepped out of the coat in one fluid motion as she drew closer to the trio, unveiling a filigreed slip dress, decorated with the outlines of lacy flowers that did absolutely nothing to hide absolutely anything, cut from shoulder to navel in a deep v, such that her bosom was entirely exposed. Endearingly, Jezebel noticed she'd worn the same easy-on, easy-off sandals that she had—she must not have felt like dealing with heels this early in the morning. Shuhui was the smallest of them by every measure, but that never seemed to matter: every curve, every angle, every piece of her was sculpted as if from marble, like she'd walked straight out of a grecian colonnade and simply said: hi, I'm real now. Her tits were appreciably smaller than Jezebel's own, but they had an almost-unnatural, gravity-defying roundness to them that just made you want to stare. And squeeze. And then stare some more. The fact that she could be so impossibly graceful while missing her left leg from below the hip was—well, Shuhui would scream at her if she said it out loud, but Jezebel just didn't see how she could have pulled it off, were their roles reversed. It hadn't been by birth, either. An accident, she'd say, but they all knew better than that: collateral damage, the price of growing up in a war-torn nation and getting out a little too late to keep entirely intact. Will's fingers curled inside of her cunt, the sudden intrusion snapping her out of maudlin thoughts. Had he realized that her mind was wandering? He probably had, though he didn't even look her way. Bastard. Shuhui drew close enough that Jezebel could smell her perfume, something floral and sweet that she couldn't quite place, enough to cut through the heady stench of sex that already permeated the room. She kept coming closer until she could take Jezebel's chin in her hand—gently extracting Will's fingers and replacing them with her own—and lean her down for a deep kiss. Their tongues entwined and danced and even Domingo fell still inside her, long enough to let them have their moment. "Thusia?" Shuhui whispered, when their lips finally parted. "Mmhmm," sighed Jezebel. Of all of them, Shuhui was the only one who really believed her stories, believed them in her soul. Will would stand by her, come what may, but Shuhui could have been a child of the light herself—whatever that really meant. She drew close, letting her tits press into Jezebel's own, running her body down her body, replacing her fingers with her lips and tongue and giving Jezebel a second, even deeper greeting kiss. Domingo took this as direction and once again began to move her ass along the length of his cock, the short movements causing Shuhui to rock her head back and forth, chasing Jezebel's cunt until she could match Domingo's rhythm. "Fuck me," Shuhui sighed, pulling away. "I could do that all day. Maybe I will. But first, I'm sorry—not sorry—that I interrupted. I believe Will was just getting to something, wasn't he?" She stood and gave Will a playful smack on the ass. He responded transversely, leaning in to give her a quick, fierce kiss square on the lips. Jezebel purred—she loved watching Will kiss her other lovers. It happened so quickly then that she thought she'd slipped back into a dream. Will shifted into position directly in front of her and put his cock inside her cunt. He didn't thrust it to the hilt, this time—that first conflagration was more under control, now, like a fire burned down to its embers—but he took a page from Domingo's relentless approach, slipping in and up and slowly but surely never stopping until his belly touched hers. Just like that, she was sandwiched between the two of them. Jezebel had been double penetrated—and then some—many times before, but never quite like this. She'd never flown before. As if to prove the concept, Domingo let go of her thighs, just for a moment, and let the pressure of gravity alone spear her on their cocks. For a moment, she thought she'd topple, break them all in one foolish act of chaos, but they held beneath her. Then, each of them took a leg and they began to fuck her in earnest. Over Will's shoulder, Jezebel spied Shuhui, who had posted herself at the foot of Will's bed, an anything-but-innocent bystander. With one hand, she fondled herself, pinching one nipple and then the other, squeezing herself in a way that made Jezebel so, so jealous. With the other, she pushed aside the barely-there fabric of her bodysuit and fingered herself, splaying her lips wide enough that Jezebel could see the pink of her inner cunt. It was a race, then. Shuhui didn't say it, but they both knew it. Under her present circumstances, Jezebel thought she might have the advantage, but she was five or six—or more; she'd lost count—orgasms in, while Shuhui was fresh and hot. Plus, Jezebel got to feel, but Shuhui got to watch. Jezebel felt her breath quicken, felt the fire building in her veins, felt her throat grow number from screaming. She didn't even realize she'd been screaming, until that moment. But Shuhui was right there with her, fingers increasing speed, chest heaving, tongue clawing at the air. She couldn't have said which of them came first, in the end, but they sure as fuck both did. Shuhui's ass thumped against the bed as her insides tried to become her outsides, even as Jezebel vibrated between the two men and their jabbing, driving, gouging cocks. Perhaps it was just in the air, but that seemed to put them both over the edge, too. Jezebel felt Domingo's cock grow somehow even larger inside her ass, and then the hot swelling of his semen filling up the condom within her. Will was not so subtle, groaning as he thrust up into her with increasing force, shooting liquid fire up into her cunt, both figurative and literal. Domingo pulled out of her first, exiting her gaping ass with a soft sucking sound. He lifted her off Will's cock—who didn't have much more strength left in his body than she had in hers—and laid her down on the bed in Shuhui's waiting arms. For the first time all night, Jezebel didn't know if she could keep going, and she told Shuhui as much. Or, at least she tried to. She wasn't sure the words came out right. Shuhui seemed to get the idea, one way or another, and cooed at her, laying her down in the bed. At some point in the aftermath of their orgasms, she'd stripped out of her bodysuit and turned down the duvet, which she now pulled up over the two of them, wrapping their naked bodies together in a soft cotton package. "Sleep, my little harlot," Shuhui whispered. "I'm bigger than you," Jezebel mumbled. "My big harlot, then," Shuhui corrected. Jezebel tried to say something funny in response, but couldn't think of anything sufficiently clever before she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. //// Some time later, Jezebel woke to the sound of the crop. She was warm but alone beneath the covers, which had been pulled lightly over her head to shield her from the morning sun. Judging by the light on Will's headboard, it must have been after eleven already. She sat up slowly, feeling the pleasant aches in her lower body, the evidence of her lovers' passage, and sought the source of the sound. Domingo knelt on hands and knees beside the bed. He was still fully naked and his cock, rigid as ever, pointed itself at the floor, drooling with his arousal. Shuhui stood behind him, similarly unclad, the riding crop held lightly in her hand as she rained lazy blows—or what seemed lazy on the surface, since Jezebel knew from experience that Shuhui's discipline was never anything but surgical and sharp—across the broad half-moons of Domingo's ass. "Where's Will?" Jezebel murmured. "Gone to class," said Shuhui, looking over at Jezebel with an easy smile. "He should be back this afternoon, but asked one of us to stay with you, just in case you woke up before then." Jezebel supposed it was harder to play hooky when you were the T.A. of the class, so she couldn't fault Will for his absence. She supposed further that both of them had taken Will up on his "one of you" request—all the better for her. Fuck, she loved them. "I have to pee," Jezebel admitted and excused herself to the bathroom. In another time, she might have put that fact to better use, but she wasn't in the mood to make a mess out of anything but herself, today. She pondered as she pissed, thinking back on her few hours of quiet repose. It wasn't so much that they could fuck the specter of Thusia away, but sometimes it did go like this. A few hours of effort, a few hours of peace. She closed her eyes as she washed her hands. Seeing those orange eyes stare back at her was like looking in a mirror, seeing Thusia—not as she was, but as she would have been—as her own reflection. That familiar, inescapable fire stirred in her delta, and she was once again relieved that the both of them had stayed. Some days, she could simply live with the feeling, coexist with the fire, carry on as if she were any other person. Today was not one of those days. Jezebel returned to the bedroom, certain that they would be able to tell that she was already hot and bothered, ready to offer herself to them, but they had changed positions. Domingo sat in a chair in the corner, his cock pointing at the ceiling and drooling on the vinyl. His face was pleased but placid, making himself present but making neither offer nor demand. Shuhui had moved back to the bed and was sitting up against the headboard. She patted the space beside herself as Jezebel came nearer, inviting her to come sit. "Shuhui, please," she mewled. "It started back up again. I need you." Shuhui patted the bed again, serenely insistent. Jezebel nearly fell into her arms, desperately seeking physical attention, but Shuhui held her tight against her bosom, in nothing more complicated than a hug. At some point, Jezebel started to cry, and Shuhui simply held her, letting her tears roll over her tits, smearing her skin with salt. It hadn't always been like this. Her visions of Thusia had started up immediately after her—she didn't like calling it a death, but whatever, that was what it was—but they hadn't always been so potent. They hadn't always made her into an animal, blind with need. She'd had Will, at least. He hadn't been her first, after all, but they'd come back around to each other just in time for her weakness to become overwhelming. And then, when he hadn't been enough, they'd found others. Now, though, even with the combined effort of their little collective, it had started to feel like it wasn't enough. She could be as flippant as she wanted about going to class, but her unbridled sexual energy was starting to get in the way of her degree. What would she do with her life if it all fell apart? How did a child of the light make a living? "What does it mean that it's getting worse?" Jezebel sobbed out loud. "Does it mean she's coming back? Does it mean that she's gone forever?" "I don't know, sweetie," said Shuhui, softly. "I wish I did. But we're here for you, no matter what. We won't abandon you—ever." To punctuate this notion, Shuhui slipped her hand up along Jezebel's inner thigh and parted her already-slick vulva with one elegant finger, twirling it inside her in just such a way that it set Jezebel's hips instantly squirming. Shuhui pulled Jezebel into a kiss, sparring and colliding with Jezebel's lips before neatly mimicking the movements of her finger in Jezebel's cunt with the tongue in Jezebel's mouth. Maybe if Shuhui kissed her like this every morning, it would drive her ghosts away—but then Jezebel's eyes fluttered closed reflexively as she sunk into Shuhui's luscious touches, and there was Thusia and her damnable, beautiful eyes, waiting, yearning, and ready. Jezebel grabbed Shuhui by the ass and lifted her up, even as she slid herself down, planting her knees—one warm and soft, one cold and hard—on either side of her head and lowering her cunt to within her tongue's reach. She could not think of a better breakfast. Between the shroud of Shuhui's thighs dampening her hearing and the loud, wet sounds of her eating out Shuhui's cunt—plus the fact that the man made no fucking sound at all—she didn't hear Domingo moving across the room until she felt his hands on her feet. He lifted her legs by her heels, holding them as rigidly pointed at the ceiling as his own cock had been, not long before. She felt the sudden rush of air on her exposed cunt, but it was quickly replaced by the firm, warm pressure of Domingo's lubed-and-latex-sheathed cock. Shuhui yelped above her as she snarled into her cunt in response to Domingo's sudden entrance. Needing now to stabilize herself, she reached down and wove her fingers through Jezebel's hair, grinding her cunt against Jezebel's face in little whorls, bringing herself faster to the finish line—which, for the two of them, was always more of a starting line. Domingo, perhaps primed by Shuhui's earlier attentions, was in no mood to play. He thrust into her cunt, not fast but hard, one pounding stroke after another, at his very most relentless. Jezebel knew that he could keep going for hours if she needed him to—and she was very much tempted to let him, to hell with her ability to walk home—but she also knew that they'd all have more fun if she let Shuhui get involved, so she focused on the task at hand. Shuhui's fingernails dug into Jezebel's scalp as Jezebel redoubled her efforts, pushing herself to lick and nip and grind as deeply and as vigorously as she could manage. Her reward, in addition to the mellifluous trill of Shuhui's orgasmic moans as she arched her back in full strain, was a sudden rush of wet heat, splashing and running down her face, washing away any trace of her earlier tears. Domingo, sensing what Jezebel had in mind, let her legs drop to either side of him, though he didn't cease in his perpetual bucking motion inside of her. Then, he grabbed Shuhui by her shaking hips and dragged her backwards, laying her atop Jezebel in just the right alignment to bring their cunts face-to-face. Without announcement, without breaking his stride, he pulled out of Jezebel and entered Shuhui, thrusting three or four times into her—pushing a little deeper every time, because fuck she was tight—before diving back into Jezebel. This became his new beat: three or four plunges into Jezebel, three or four plunges into Shuhui, and back again. Only, Jezebel could tell that he wouldn't last nearly as endlessly with this polyrhythmic approach. There was something increasingly ragged about the force of his strokes, like he seemed to be pulsing and swelling with every one, finally the bringer of his own deconstruction. Shuhui, her body propped up by the mass of Jezebel's tits, calmly held her gaze. She was a total mess, no doubt, by the way she struggled to keep from making atrociously lewd mouth sounds with every one of Domingo's thrusts, but she was trying to keep it together for her. For Jezebel. "I mean it," she gushed, in-between turns. "I'm never going to leave you, Jezebel. I don't know what the future holds for any of us, let alone you—and I suspect your future will be stranger than most. But I will always be a part of your life, I promise." Domingo abruptly stopped moving, leaving only the phantom momentum of his established pattern to rock through Jezebel's insides. "The same goes for me," he said. "And all of us, I think. We're with you till the end, whatever end it is." It was this affirmation, more than anything else, that pushed Jezebel over the edge. As Domingo resumed thrusting, her body exploded with searing climax. Shuhui held her all the more tightly, riding her wave until she met it with her own, letting Jezebel feel the way her body undulated to the crashing orgasm that tore through her on the back of Domingo's cock. The next thing she knew, Shuhui was being flipped onto her back beside her on the bed. Domingo had discarded his condom and gripped himself firmly, bringing himself to climax with a few practiced tugs, not so differently than how he'd greeted Will earlier that morning. He came like a tank, too, spraying their writhing bodies with six or seven gouts of semen before Jezebel lost count, before finally allowing himself to collapse, laying crosswise on the bed, close enough to run an idly soothing hand across their bent and tangled legs. "Thank you," Jezebel whispered, when she could catch her breath. Domingo grunted happily from the foot of the bed. Shuhui rolled onto her side, planting a kiss on Jezebel's cheek, then another on her throat, then another on each of her nipples, then another, softer than all the rest, on her lips. Then, she rolled back onto her back, fully spent. Not Jezebel. For all their strenuous activity, she felt energized rather than enervated. She felt emboldened. She felt proud. She felt glad. Was this what it meant to be a child of the light? She closed her eyes, ready to meet Thusia's gaze. There she was, as she always was, a creature of skin and fur and fire, a thing not of her world and yet so much born from it. Jezebel reached a hand between her legs, passing over the trails of Domingo and Shuhui's ejaculations. Staring into those eyes that lurked within her soul, she rubbed her clit in little circles, just the way she liked it. Never blinking—a benefit of seeing with closed eyes—she finger-fucked herself until she had coaxed forth another orgasm, taking all the time it took to properly let it build and wholly let it shine. Jezebel didn't know if Shuhui or Domingo were watching her or if they had fallen into slumber. She hoped they saw her as she caught flame, but she didn't mind if they'd been taken by dreams of their own. They had time to be together. They were with her until the end. Will and them and maybe others, too. She would never be left alone again.