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They’ve got plenty of time before the bus moves off. Nobody likes preparing for bed with the wheels turning; it’s all stumbles and bumps, bracing on the bathroom sink, tripping over a pyjama leg. They’re granted a buffer period before the schedule makes its demands. In that in-between haze that precedes the bedtime hush, when adrenaline still holds the exhaustion at bay, they strip off wherever there’s space. There isn’t plenty of that to go around, but the Ghouls don’t mind. They prefer things cosy.
Cirrus steps out of her bodysuit and packs it away, folding the wings with care so as not to lose any jewels. Bending to reach her bag is a little challenging in the snug shapewear underneath. Once that’s done, she tucks her thumbs into the top and starts to roll it down, sighing with relief as the pressure on her stomach eases.
She hears Dew’s footsteps before she feels him behind her. He rests his chin on her shoulder then wraps his arms around her middle, flexing his fingers out, ready to stroke gentle circles into her belly.
“Welcome back,” he purrs. It’s punctuated by a press of his fingers, indulgent and firm.
Cirrus bats at his hand, but there’s no strength behind it. “Let me change.”
“In a moment.” He leans closer and tightens his hold. His fingers brush the hem of the shapewear, rolled halfway down, and he hesitates. His chin brushes Cirrus’ shoulder as he tips his head, curious. “I still don’t get why you wear this thing.”
She sighs. It’s not the first time one of the pack has asked, and it won’t be the last. Contrary to what the packaging advertises, it isn’t any concern about her weight that makes her wear this; rather, a thin, skintight costume over her stomach, without so much as a waistband on top, makes her feel more vulnerable than she can stand. All those people, all that space—so little between them and the most delicate part of her body. The place she’s carried babies, the way she would show submission. Rhinestones and a zip feel as good as open air.
“Feels safer,” she says. She’s too weary to put it into words.
Dew would understand if she told him the whole of it, but now is not the time. Cirrus needs a change of clothes, a bathroom trip, and a groom from another’s tongue before bed. Maybe not quite in that order.
“You’ve got to relax, gorgeous.” Dew leans his cheek against her. “Nobody’s going to hurt us up there.”
She nudges her head against his; an affectionate bump. “I’ll relax when I’m in bed. Let me—”
“Mm. I’ll help.”
Cirrus isn’t given the chance to begin. Dew’s calloused hands beat her to the rolled-down waistband. He’s done this before—he knows what she’ll allow. He shuffles it down in the way she’s shown him, making careful movements over her stomach and hips, letting the fabric rest at her thighs. Cirrus rewards him with a soft moan and slumps back against him. He grins, pushing his body forward to meet hers. There’s more to undress, but Dew takes the moment to enjoy her show of relief, and leans down to kiss her shoulder, his hands gone still.
“That’s better, yeah?”
She nods, slow and appreciative. “Mm-hm.”
“Good.”
He gives it one final shove, lets it fall to the floor around her ankles, and starts to knead at Cirrus’ belly. His palms rub over the little marks where the shapewear has squeezed her. They’ll be gone soon, but he still wants to indulge her. All the better if he gets to feel the soft plush of her stomach whilst he’s at it. Cirrus leans back into him with a purr, her tail sliding playfully over his, and he bumps his head into hers.
Cirrus is so distracted by Dew’s caress, so lost in his rumbling purrs and his loving touch, that she doesn’t notice the problem until too late. Dew’s hands stray lower; the air is cool on her naked body. She’s so quick to relax in his arms, and with the way his hands press with growing fervour, her body decides it’s time to let go.
Something hot blooms between her legs, and trickles down the inside of her thigh.
“Shit—”
As a panicked reflex, she grabs Dew’s arm. Her fingers tighten as she clenches, hard, mouth open in a breathless gasp.
Dew catches the scent before he spots the glistening trail. He moves fast, sliding one hand between her legs, pressing his palm against her folds. It’s warm and firm, unflinching when Cirrus squeezes her thighs around him.
“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” Dew’s voice is as steady as his hand. “Hold on, we’ll find a—Rain! Grab us a tub? Or similar?”
A voice from down the aisle calls, “What—”
“Hurry, or you’re cleaning the puddle.”
Footsteps hurry away from them, but Cirrus pays them no mind. Her bladder pinches with fresh urgency and she feels herself leak, right into Dew’s open palm.
She groans, and her face flushes hot. “Mmngh. Sorry.”
Dew just holds her tighter. “No, no. I’m sorry. I’m the one who squeezed it out of you.”
Even in her embarrassment, Cirrus chuckles—then whimpers when she feels another dribble.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” Dew mutters. He kisses her shoulder. “But I’m not complaining.”
It’s as if the squeeze of the shapewear had been helping her hold it. It was certainly masking the feeling of how full her bladder has gotten. She hardly felt anything during the show, but now that it’s off, the pressure is more than Cirrus can handle on her own. Dew’s hand is of little use against the water she’d downed in the dressing room. She feels herself start to leak in a steady trickle. Her pelvic floor didn’t appreciate her last litter, and it won’t appreciate her trying to hold on, either. She makes a soft whining noise, drowned out by Dew’s moan in her ear.
“Glad you’re having fun,” she grumbles.
“No reason why you can’t.”
Cirrus shuffles her feet, as close as she can get to a desperate squirm. “I’m not in the mood for cleanup.”
“Don’t you worry, love.” Dew tucks his face into her neck. “We’ll take good care of you.”
Rain’s hurrying towards them, holding a plastic tub in one hand. He doesn’t hesitate to figure out what’s going on; he’s well-acquainted with scenes like this. One bathroom for a pack of nine necessitates alternatives, now and again. Especially when Cirrus is involved.
“Here,” he says, nudging the tub to her thighs, asking her to part them.
Spreading her legs makes her leak again. She whimpers but perseveres, shuffling her feet just far enough apart for Rain to shove the tub against her crotch. It’s just in time for a few drops to trickle past Dew’s fingers. As soon as she feels the plastic sides pressing against her thighs, she gives up trying to clench—and lets her stream flood into Dew’s palm.
His other hand slides down past her ass, holding the other side of the tub. Rain keeps it level at her front. Cirrus groans and leans back, letting Dew’s chest take her weight, trusting the two of them to hold the tub in place. She can feel herself gushing, but the weight in her bladder is still just as strong as her relief. If she wasn’t pissing into Dew’s palm, her stream would splatter into the tub and make a mess of her thighs, which Dew surely knows. But from the low sounds he’s making in her ear, he has more than practicality in mind.
“That’s it,” Dew purrs, speaking slow. “Such a good girl. Mmngh, you’re so warm…”
Cirrus chuckles, breathless with the relief that’s starting to hit, and the arousal creeping up beneath it.
“So full, gorgeous,” Rain says, with a rare teasing note.
There’s something genuine beneath the tease. He’s staring down at the tub, his pupils blown wide, his tail swishing with interest. This tub—which shouldn’t be put back in the kitchenette, but Ghouls aren’t ones to care about that—has measurements on the side, counting up to a litre. Cirrus wonders if she’ll get comments about how much she’s managed to fill it. It wouldn’t be the first time.
The desperate spray begins to fade to a steady trickle, so Dew moves his hand. His fingers tug strings of arousal as he pulls them away from her. He moans, loud and unrestrained, as he watches it from over her shoulder.
“Fuck, Cirrus…”
She wants to indulge him, but her bladder gives a warning sting.
“Put it back,” she gasps, just as another spurt hisses out.
Dew’s not quick enough to stop it from splashing Rain’s thumb, but Rain doesn’t seem to mind. He’s stroking Cirrus’ thigh with his free hand, curling his fingers around to squeeze her ass, matching Dew’s purrs.
Cirrus can’t hold herself together. She needs to stay still—she’s reliant on the hands of two wound-up Ghouls to keep her from pissing on the floor. But Dew’s palm is confident, Rain’s chest is close enough to brush against, and the absurdity of it all is making her stomach throb. Their attention, their caresses, their purrs; all of that sends it right between her legs.
She rocks her hips, just to test it out, seeking pressure from Dew’s palm. He gives a low whine and meets her with the heel of his hand.
“Careful,” Rain says, but his voice is thick. His hand roams further back, teasing between Cirrus’ legs.
Dew starts to grind the heel of his palm against her, keeping his movements slow, giving her the pressure she needs without jostling their delicate setup. He wraps his free arm around her chest, letting her lean on him and relax into it. Her hips tilt forward; they move the tub to catch the next gush of piss that comes flooding out of her. It flows down Dew’s fingers and onto Rain’s hand, dripping down his wrist and into the tub, and Rain moans aloud.
“Must have been busting,” he says, a little breathless. “Surprised you made it to the bus.”
So is Cirrus. She nods just as another spurt splashes onto Dew’s hand. She’s still getting used to this new weakness, the suddenness with which urgency sneaks up on her. Especially when her stage getup disguises it.
“Good thing I’ve got you two here,” she huffs.
Dew kisses her shoulder. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
Rain’s fingertips slide along her folds, and he moans again when he feels how slick she’s become. Cirrus’ arousal is beginning to drip down her thighs, thick and warm, and she whines as she clenches around nothing. Rain dips his fingers in just enough to tease her, not pushing deep, yet Cirrus’ legs go weak.
“Now who needs to be careful?” Dew chuckles.
“Down,” Cirrus gasps. The other two take a moment to catch on. She moans, leaning back to chase Rain’s touch, but the moan turns into a panicked whine as that weakness overpowers her. “Nngh. Please. Need—”
Her knees give out—her tail swishes to balance her, and wraps around Dew’s leg.
“Okay. Okay, gorgeous. On your knees?”
She nods, then hands disappear from her crotch. She whines at the loss of them, her hips twitching involuntarily.
“You got it?” Dew asks Rain, who nods and takes the tub, leaving Dew to hold Cirrus under one arm.
His piss-soaked hand stays between her legs, but he moves it back, as if he’s supporting her under her ass. Any longer on her feet and Cirrus might need that. Dew lowers her to the floor, steadying her when she slumps to her knees. Rain moves the tub, just far enough to avoid a knock. No further than that. He knows Cirrus well enough to keep it close.
“N-need it—” she gasps, as soon as she’s seated.
She doesn’t say what, but that doesn’t matter. Rain and Dew give her both things she might need.
Rain shoves the tub between her thighs again; she drips into it before a spurt comes out, splashing against Dew’s wrist. He moans into her shoulder and his hand starts to move against her clit again. He sits up on his knees, pressing himself close, letting Cirrus feel his cock against her back, turned rock hard so fast—
“Shh,” he says, as if Cirrus had been the one moaning. “We’re gonna make you feel good.”
Rain moves towards her too, tucking his hand back around her waist. He reaches in from behind, pushing his fingers further this time.
“Relax, love. Don’t you worry about accidents.” He pulses his fingers, almost in time with his words. “Let us help.”
Cirrus is rendered breathless, open-mouthed, rocking into both of their hands at once. Rain arches towards her just as she thrusts her hips forward. It’s now that he would usually take her in his arms, but he can’t hold her tonight—his free hand is keeping the tub from spilling.
“Give me a kiss,” he says, and Cirrus whimpers when she meets him.
Rain’s finger slips deep so easily that he moans right into her mouth. He doesn’t waste any time in curling it inside her, brushing over the spot that makes her whole body tremble. Cirrus feels a warm, wet trickle flow out of her, and Rain whimpers just as she sighs with relief. Dew moves his hand, fingers sliding up to stroke her clit with precision; Cirrus leans into it, then has to break the kiss to catch her breath.
“You want more?” Rain asks.
She nods fast, words feeling too far away. Rain understands. He draws his finger out and curls back in with two, moving them just out of rhythm with Dew’s hand. Cirrus’ head falls back, eyes sliding closed as she starts to lose herself in the sensation, and she feels Dew start to rock his hips against her. The movement is so subtle that she wonders if he knows he’s doing it—or she would, if she had any capacity to think. Rain kisses her neck, dragging his tongue over her skin and sending another bolt of pleasure down her spine. She’s already close, aching for two kinds of release, too far gone to hold either of them back.
Her whole body tenses up. She bites her lip to stifle a wail as heat bursts between her legs. She squirts onto Rain’s palm, her stream making a loud hiss, splashing over his hand. He keeps his fingers moving as they both work her through it. She shudders, moans, and slumps back with a gasp, breathing hard. Another shock of release follows it—she hums and lets another gush of piss flood out of her. The sound of it pouring into the tub is heavier now, with thick drops of arousal mixed in.
“Fuck,” Dew moans, his lips warm against her skin. “So fucking hot, Cirrus…”
He’s grinding with more force now. Rain leans over Cirrus’ shoulder, stretching up on his knees to give Dew a kiss. The conjoined moans close to her ear make Cirrus’ belly throb.
“Not gonna last, are you?” Rain asks.
“Not even gonna try.” Dew’s breathless too. “How much room have we got left?”
We, he’d said, like the space left in the tub is a problem for all three of them, rather than Cirrus alone. Her near-accident has become something communal. In a bleary, blissed-out sort of way, Cirrus wants to thank them for it.
But Rain’s glancing down at the tub and speaking before she can. “Fair bit. Don’t you worry, though. I’ve got a backup plan.”
He looks at Cirrus, gives her half a smile, and licks his lips. She laughs, leaning back into Dew as she lets another trickle go. Later, she’ll wonder if it was this that had such a dramatic effect on him, or her laughter. He moans and gasps with less restraint than any of the Ghouls are used to from him—but his hand is as coordinated as ever when it slides back, meeting Rain’s fingers between Cirrus’ legs. Rain laughs too, high and delighted, as Dew joins him in stroking over Cirrus’ folds, covering his already soaked hand with her dripping release. Cirrus bears down on it, chasing more, but Dew moves his hand after just a moment. Cirrus whines, thrusting her hips into nothing.
“Again,” she gasps, and Rain pats her thigh in consolation.
“Wait your turn,” he teases.
Dew’s let go of her waist with his free hand, and starts to unzip his costume. He’s fumbling now, with his soaked hand held awkwardly in front of Cirrus. When he finally gets the zip down to his crotch, he tugs himself free—he’s leaking onto her skin, making a low, animal whine as he grinds against Cirrus’ ass again.
At the same time, he brings his wet hand to her mouth.
Into her ear, he growls, “Clean your mess.”
She takes his fingers with no hesitation. She moans around them, making wet noises as she sucks on all four of them, her tongue poking out to catch his palm. Dew’s thumb presses into her skin, leaving a glistening smear, just as he aligns himself and thrusts up, grinding between her cheeks.
His other hand roams her chest, her waist, her stomach. If Dew was anyone else, Rain might have intercepted when he makes the next move—but Dew’s not one for mistakes. He’s in full control when he drops his hand to the tub, resting his palm against the plastic side to feel its warmth.
“It’s so full,” Dew groans, his hips rolling into her as his fingers press down on her tongue. “Kept that in the whole show, huh? Didn’t even know how desperate you were. Nearly made a mess on the floor—”
“That was your doing.” Rain interrupts his babbling, eyes flashing with amusement. “She’s been a perfectly good girl. Haven’t you, love?”
Cirrus nods as best she can, and Rain leans in to kiss her dry cheek. He strokes his hand over the inside of her thigh. That gentle touch makes her bladder tingle and release another trickle. She’s so wet now that it flows down her folds before dripping into the tub, even without a hand there to catch it.
She whimpers around Dew’s fingers, and he slides them out, stroking his dick a couple of times to spread the slickness over the shaft. He doesn’t wait long before grinding against her again, panting into her shoulder. His hand comes back down between her legs, fingers sliding lazily over her folds, nowhere near firm enough to give Cirrus to bear down on.
“Know you’ve got more in there,” Dew says, his voice low and rough. “Go on, gorgeous. Let it all out.”
There’s no way for him to be certain of it, but he knows Cirrus well. Her body is coming down from her climax and making way for another throb of pressure. She plays it up, inhaling deeply and moaning with relief as she lets go. Dew shouts when he feels it pour onto his hand, and he holds onto her hip with the other to keep her steady. Or perhaps it’s become the other way around.
His own hips start to move faster; he tucks his face into her neck, his breath steam-hot, flowing through her hair. He squeezes her hip tight when he comes, claws digging into her skin, his cock pulsing and spilling all over her lower back. Cirrus gasps, drinking in the choking noise Dew makes against her, and a grin tugs at the sides of her mouth.
When he’s caught his breath and his grip on her loosens, she turns to the side with a chuckle.
“Dew?” she says.
He lifts his head to look at her. “Mm?”
“Clean your mess.”
Rain’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter. Dew gives her shoulder a playful nip before ducking down. He keeps both hands on her hips as he licks her clean, kissing and teasing at the upper crest of her ass. His tongue is as confident as his grip, thorough but reverent. His touch sends a warm shiver through her middle. Cirrus hums with pleasure—then squeaks with surprise, when Dew flicks his tongue across the underside of her tail.
Her tail gives an involuntary twitch, landing on Dew’s side with a thump, but he doesn’t react to it. Getting a slap from a tail is business as usual when one of them is wound up. He strays lower, and Cirrus’ hands fumble at Rain’s shoulders, seeking something stable as she gasps and arches her back.
Rain takes her under the arms, his wet palms ignored. He grins at her breathless whimpers, her trembling frame, and pushes closer on his knees.
“What’s he up to back there, hm?” he asks, bringing Cirrus into a hug, careful not to knock the tub.
He rests his chin on her shoulder and looks over it—just in time to see Dew emerge, his tail swishing, and sink his teeth into Cirrus’ ass.
She cries out, shuddering in Rain’s arms. Dew’s muffled growl rises behind it. Cirrus’ pain is genuine, and her cry could almost be mistaken for a no—but it’s followed by a whining moan and a desperate jerk of her hips, seeking touch that isn’t there.
Rain can’t wait much longer.
“Fuck, baby,” he says, pulling back, fumbling for his zip. “D’you need someone? Because I need you.”
Cirrus nods, wordless and whimpering. Like Dew, Rain doesn’t bother to get his costume off his shoulders; there’s plenty of room to tug himself out. But first, there’s a spillage to prevent.
With reluctance, Rain slides back and reaches for the tub.
“Need it,” she gasps. “Gonna make a-a mess—”
“Cirrus.” Arousal leeches into Rain’s voice, but his words are clear. “Look how much you’ve done.”
She obeys and looks down. Her eyes widen at the amount she’s let out, and her trembling thighs tense. Above the scents of their combined arousal, and what she’s done in the tub, Cirrus smells a rush of affection above Rain’s frantic desire. He’s drinking in the sight of her.
“You won’t have much more left,” he says. “And even so. What’s a little mess?”
He’s cautious when he pulls the tub out from between them, and pushes it as far across the floor as his arm can stretch, without moving away from Cirrus.
“Besides. It’ll all end up on me.”
Cirrus reaches for him. Their lips meet with a bubbling growl. Cirrus is shaky when she straddles him; Dew’s moving with her, working his tongue back between her cheeks and deeper inside. Cirrus breaks off for a moment to glance behind herself, her breath catching when she sees the bite mark, raised and red, and bruises sucked into her skin beside it.
Rain guides her hip with one hand, and tugs Dew’s hair with the other. It’s half loosened from its tie, sweaty from the stage.
“Be good for her,” he growls.
Dew’s more than good. He slides his hand through Cirrus’ legs, dipping between her folds, stretching her one more time. His fingers stay as Cirrus lowers her hips. She’s clutching Rain’s costume, gripping rhinestones under her fingertips, shaking so hard that she can’t tell whether he’s doing the same. He moans loudly as she slides down onto him, the sound breathless and needy.
Cirrus whimpers when she’s seated. “Got to go.”
“Then go.” He’s panting, too desperate to hold back from rocking his hips. “Suit needs a wash anyway.”
It might be her arousal, or the way Rain’s pressed against her still-sensitive bladder, that’s making her feel like she needs to pee again. She feels so full, like she’s going to burst all over him. Her concern lasts only a moment before she starts to move with him, and Dew gets back to work, sliding beneath her tail with a groan of pleasure.
One of Dew’s hands braces himself on the floor. The other comes around her waist, kneading into the softest part of her stomach, as long and indulgent as he was at the beginning.
Cirrus whimpers and puts one hand over Dew’s, not holding it, just letting their fingers slide over each other. She keeps it there, inviting him to press a little harder. Her hips move in a sinuous wave, grinding down onto Rain then leaning into Dew’s mouth, and her eyes flutter shut as she starts to lose herself again. Rain can’t keep quiet, but he tries, biting his lip so he can hear the sort, breathy noises she makes with every exhale. They’re interrupted by a squeak—her head snaps down to look between her legs, right as a dribble of piss leaks out of her, flowing over Rain’s dick. He groans out loud, hips stuttering. Her accident soaks a dark spot into his costume.
“Oh, that’s it,” he moans. “Don’t try to hold it, baby. Let it out.”
Dew’s hand presses down again, gentle but determined, and Cirrus pushes with him. The spurt is stronger this time, splashing on Rain’s hips. His head falls back just as Cirrus yelps with surprise; Dew’s sinking his teeth into the back of her thigh, just under the curve of her ass, making her shake and whine in Rain’s lap. She lets out a desperate moan when he pulls his mouth away, grabbing at Rain’s shoulder with her other hand.
“Need it,” she whispers. “Mmgh, please—”
Rain and Dew don’t know what she’s asking for, but they move in unison again, giving her all they’ve got. Dew moves his mouth back to taste her and his hand reaches further in, pressing more firmly on her bladder. Rain strokes her clit, moving his hips with more force as he leans up to kiss her neck. Cirrus drives her hand into his hair, pushing him into her throat, insisting. He laughs when he obeys and opens his mouth. He bites her on the base of her neck, basking in the way she shudders and gasps.
“Please,” Cirrus whines. “Please.”
“Shh. It’s okay,” Rain says. His voice is rough and shaky. “We’ve got you, baby. Just let go.”
Her hand fists into his hair and she leans forward, her head falling onto Rain’s shoulder, grinding her hips down into his lap. Dew’s tongue makes wet sounds behind her as her tail lashes through the air above him. Cirrus’ breath speeds up, her chest heaving against Rain’s, and as her stomach tenses and hurtles towards the edge, she goes quiet.
There’s a gush of liquid between them. Cirrus clenches hard around his cock, shuddering and sobbing through the second wave. Rain’s eyes pinch shut; he groans and keeps his hand moving, pushing himself back from the edge, denying his own release so he can work her through it.
At the first overstimulated flinch, he moves his hand. Cirrus slumps onto him, trusting him to tell when she’s had enough, holding onto his waist whilst she catches her breath. Her bladder lets another trickle out. It’s not as forceful as last time, but it’s longer, flowing down Rain’s hips, trickling down his thighs, dripping over his crotch as if he’s the one wetting himself.
“Nngh, can’t—can’t stop it,” she says, in a voice that’s barely there.
“I know.” Rain moans into her neck, letting his hips roll up. “Fuck, Cirrus—oh, ‘s so good—”
He buries himself deep when he comes, tucking his face into her hair, making a long, low sound of pleasure. Cirrus is flooded with all kinds of heat between her legs. She meets him with a blissful whine, until Rain’s trembling frame almost tips them both over.
Dew’s laughing softly, steadying them both with his hands. Rain and Cirrus let it happen. They cling to each other as they come down from it, too overwhelmed to speak, too lost in the soaked warmth they’re sharing to move away from it. When either of them shifts, the slight sounds of skin-on-skin are as wet as Dew’s tongue was. Cirrus’ relief of different kinds all meld into one. She’s dripping, spent, and held by the two who got her here. There’s no better way to end the night, she thinks.
Rain interrupts her musing. “Where’s—” he starts, turning away from Cirrus to look around him.
She glances up to see him looking over the floor, his expression confused. He’s searching for the tub. Cirrus gets a brief flash of panic, but calms herself on the next breath. She knows it didn’t fall over—they’d all smell that if it had. Rain glances at Dew, who does nothing but shrug.
“Oh, um—” says Papa’s voice from down the aisle. “Were you—I thought you were done with it.”
Cirrus looks over Rain’s shoulder to see Papa in his bunk, legs tucked into his chest, watching the three of them with an embarrassed-looking smile.