You love the prize planet. You’ve grown a lot in the bubbles, and thankfully your age has caught up to that of your friends, and some of them have even spoken to you again. Nepeta (and Davepeta) tackled you in a hug, and you hugged her as gently and as tenderly as you could, kissing her face and telling her how much you love her, because you love her and you missed her and you missed telling her, and she loves being kissed and told she’s loved.
She’s perfect. Your perfect, perfect moirail, you missed her, you love her, and on this planet, after so long having to talk to yourself in the bubbles, you don’t care about the caste, or your own hangups, you care about her and how good she is for you. She’s always felt that, and you’ve only just managed to stop apologizing about it to her when you’re jamming, and only because she asked you to. She knows that even if you did believe all of it, you adore her, she’s your perfect moirail, and you’d never hurt her on purpose.
You’ve mellowed a lot, thanks almost entirely to Nepeta never stopping even for a second in reminding you to be better. She’s honestly the best moirail you could ever ask for. Plus, all she had to do was remind you of the versions of you that were so content to stay the same they lost all ties. Even her. You don’t know how any version of you could even survive without being able to wish your palemate goodlight, or kiss her cheek, or have her tackle you off balance with excitement about something or other. You can’t imagine a version of you not loving Nepeta with all your heart.
Since getting on the planet and having a consistent one to talk to, you realize you also like Meulin. She’s stunning, and warm, and Beforans in general are very cuddly, which you also enjoy. Not even in a sexual way, they just enjoy contact, as most trolls, and weren’t fed that touching should be saved for quads only, and rigid ones at that. When you met her in the bubbles, she was friendly, and here on the prize planet, she’s even nicer, though still deaf; she said she’s happier that way, and you can’t fault her that.
Meulin likes to play with your hair, and stroke your horns, and with her attentions almost without fail comes Kurloz. If he isn’t doting on his moirail, who leans on him and snaps at you playfully, he’s doting on Meulin, though you understand they’re not “officially” dating. Once you started visiting her, with Nepeta’s explicit permission, he’d edged closer into your small cuddle puddles, until it was rare for you to be able to lean your head on her shoulder and loosely lock your legs with hers without Kurloz climbing up behind you to kiss your neck and snuggle in.
And you like it. He’s gentle and she’s so warm and soft, and between them you feel incredibly wanted, and that’s a wonderful feeling. You feel wanted with Nepeta, too, but you don’t want to mooch all her time, and it’s different with Meulin and Kurloz. Not just because Kurloz’ voodoos seep into your pan, or even because he’s there, so much as because the intent is different. It’s pale, but more. It’s good, whatever it is.
Nepeta doesn’t mind; you’ve asked her many, many times. She knows how you feel for her, and she knows that as long as she loves you she’ll be your diamond, no matter what. She also knows how fuzzy everything like that got in the bubbles; she’s been spending more time with Latula and even Kankri, and it’s fine. You know she’s your moirail. She knows you’re hers. Extraneous interactions won’t change that any more than you getting a matesprit would change it.
You’ve discussed this with her at length, because you like to see Meulin and Kurloz, and because she likes to visit with Mituna and Latula, or Kankri, to flex her moirail abilities. The consensus you’ve reached is that you both need each other, still and always, and that other things don’t change that. She’s given her explicit blessing to you spending time, even in a pale way, with Meulin and Kurloz, and you’ve decided to do just that.
This time, you’re sprawled against her front, her rumblespheres pressed against your chest and your face in her hair; it smells like catnip and tea and reminds you of Nepeta. Her hands are under your shirt on your back, scratching gentle, soothing circles into your skin, and Kurloz curled against both of your sides, kissing occasionally at your horn. His voodoos are in your pan like a soft, ebbing tide, relaxing and soft, full of wordless compliments while his fingers (ungloved and cold and uncalloused and good), and you’re so relaxed. You’re so relaxed, and comfortable.
You press your face gently to Meulin’s neck and she purrs louder, turning her head to kiss your forehead a few times. Your hands, tangled in her hair, knead a little bit at the attention. Her lips press to your ear and it flicks, and she giggles. She’s soft and warm under you, and you just purr when she pulls your head up to kiss you. Her lips are so soft. Kurloz nuzzles against the back of your neck and Meulin’s tongue flicks against your bottom lip.
Softly, you murmur a little ‘yes’ against her lips, though she didn’t ask anything and wouldn’t be able to hear you, anyway. Kurloz’s hands slide into your hair, and you croon, shivering. She’s gorgeous. Kurloz’s paps are so soft, you almost don’t feel them, and they’re wonderfully relaxing. He kisses the side of your horn and you have to force yourself not to go limp while Meulin cups your face and kisses you until you’re flushed and breathless. You’re so calm. They’re so gentle with you, and you feel so good.
Meulin’s lips trail down your neck and you purr, so she can feel it, and then shiver when Kurloz’ hands slide up your back, pushing your shirt up, and breathe another ‘yes’ to the question posed in your pan; Is this okay, bluebrother? You have to sit up and out of Meulin’s range to take it off entirely, but once you do, Kurloz’ hands slide over your hips, up your sides to scratch at your grubscars, wrap around to your chest, and his voice whispers in your pan again.
“Fuckin’ pretty, bluebro. Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He leans his face down into your neck. “Wanna get yourself on divested of those shorts?”
You don’t feel the push or pull of voodoos wanting you to want something; Gamzee had done that, once or twice. Kurloz too, in the bubbles. You just feel the question hanging in your pan, and nod while Meulin, now sitting up, kisses your collarbones. He bids you not to rush, so you don’t, leaning against his chest and breathing out little chirps while they threaten to smother you with attention.
Kurloz nuzzles against the top of your head and you shudder against Meulin’s mouth on you, nibbling gently at the crook of your neck. Even before Kurloz’ hips grind against your ass you feel your stomach tightening and your bulge twitching in your sheathe, and you can’t help the little moan you make at that. Kurloz purrs an encouraging noise, though, and even if you flush you don’t really feel all that embarrassed when you moan again, because his hands are pressing along the sharp angles of your hips and Meulin is kissing you again.
At some point, you manage to unbutton your shorts and push them down around your knees, and Kurloz slides his hand down to your undercarriage, cupping your sheathe through your boxers and rolling his palm harshly against it. You whimper, because you know he can feel you wet through your clothes (he presses his fingers pointedly against your nook), and Meulin pulls back from your mouth to speak.
“Don’t be so rough on Equi-hiss, Purrloz.” She says, in a surprisingly soft voice; maybe she’s been practicing. “We want him to feel good.”
You turn your head, rolling your hips into his hand and mumbling against his shoulder more than out loud. “No, I-I like it. I’m okay.” You don’t want either of them to stop for something as minor as hurting you; you’re STRONG. You can take it.
Meulin’s warm hands up your cheeks and she turns your face towards herself. “Equius, I can’t read your lips if you don’t look at me. You have to look at me.” Her tone is commanding, and it makes you croon, helped along by Kurloz grinding his heel against your sheathe again. “Just beclaws Purrloz is in our pans doesn’t mean you don’t have to talk to me, Equius.”
“Yes, Meulin.” You croon, and she drags her thumb over your bottom lip. “I’ll be good.”
Her forefinger slides past your lips and into your mouth and you suck without thinking, moaning wetly around her. You wish it was her bulge, you want her to use you. “What a good boy. I know you’ll listen, Equi-hiss. You’re so good.” She paps your cheek and thrusts her fingers and your bulge slithers down the leg of your boxers.
This is a lot. “Too much?” Kurloz’ disembodied voice whispers, right in your head, and you don’t have even a second of indecision; it’s good. It’s a lot, but it’s good, you want this, you want them. Your boxers are sticking to your thighs and they’re still dressed, but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. This is how they want you, and that’s enough.
Kurloz’ long arms leave your middle and you whine around Meulin’s fingers, but he comes back a minute later, shirtless, his shorts unbuttoned and hanging off his hips, to pap your cheeks and kiss the base of your horn delicately. You’re drooling around Meulin’s fingers, but she’s just purring and thrusting her fingers, her other hand lifting her skirt. She’s so pretty, with her hair and her eyes and her delicate fingers in your mouth, like she’s training you to take her bulge; you want to take her bulge. Maybe she’ll make you beg.
You squirm uncomfortably when, like you expected, your boxers stick to your thighs, but don’t stop Kurloz from pulling them down. Meulin pulls away and strips off her sweater while he wraps his hand around your bulge and strokes it slowly, base to tip and then back down, watching over your shoulder as she undresses. You’re shivering, bucking just a little into Kurloz’ hand while you watch her, and he looms over you all predatory and cold and gorgeous. She unzips the side of her skirt and shimmies out if it, her bulge twisting wetly against her thigh and now in view. Thank the gods, you think. It wasn’t just you.
Kurloz grinds his hips against your ass again and you mewl, dropping your head back against his shoulder. His hand not on your bulge tangles in your hair, but instead of yanking your head back like you’ve seen in porn, he just pets at it, pale as can be. Like you’re not thrusting your bulge into his fist and watching his girlfriend watch you. Meulin’s hand is on her bulge, stroking it languidly while she watches you, and you try not to sweat more than you are already under her gaze.
You don’t have to be lead more than by her calling you to go to your hands and knees and move towards her, kissing her thighs gently. Her skin is so soft, she’s so warm, and she pets through your hair, letting you work up to taking her bulge in your mouth in your own time. Kurloz peppers stitched-lip kisses over your back and shoulders, and you relax, tentatively dragging your tongue up the underside of her bulge. Kurloz purrs against the middle of your back and you do it again, and she moans, smiling.
“That’s good, Equius.” She strokes your cheek. You might be in love. “You’re doing so good for us.”
Kurloz rumbles in agreement and you take the tip into your mouth, lapping at it and trusting her to keep it from thrusting into your throat and gagging you. You’re not well-practiced in this. You tried a few times in the bubbles, but you’re not an expert, or even very good, but she purrs and moans anyway, and it’s encouraging enough that you move down as much as you know you safely can, and work your tongue. Behind you, Kurloz strokes his hands up your thighs, easing them apart now that he’s tossed your pants away, and you shiver at being so exposed.
“Fuckin’ pretty to look at, bluebro. Fuckin’ pretty.” He purrs, in your pan, and you flush, failing in your attempt not to sweat more. “All wet n drippin’ for a motherfucker.”
His thumb rubs over the ridge of nerves just at the topmost edge of your nook and you moan around your mouthful. Meulin matches his pace with her thumb against the base of your horn, and it’s dizzying, your hips bucking against Kurloz’ hand while you threaten to go limp from Meulin’s. Her pelvis presses against your nose and you barely realize you’ve managed it until you swallow and she makes a snarling kind of noise that goes right to your nook. Her bulge is thick and hot and you’re so wet and empty. You want her to bite you, to shove you down and pail you until you can’t even move.
Kurloz presses two fingers into your nook and you yelp, more in surprise than anything, but he kisses the small of your back and whispers an apology anyway, checking twice that you’re not hurt. Once you rock your hips back against him, pulling your mouth off Meulin’s bulge to muffle yourself against her soft thigh, he accepts it, but still kisses your back, whispering compliments to you and curling his fingers slow and constant against a spot in your nook that makes your thighs shiver and makes it hard to do more than just lick the base of Meulin’s bulge and hold it to keep it off your cheek.
She’s still papping you, playing with your hair and petting your horns. You’d go limp if not for Kurloz’ hand on your hip and his fingers in your nook. He presses in a third finger and you croon something low and submissive and needy, begging wordlessly for more. Meulin giggles, softly, and lifts your head to kiss you, her tongue cleaning the olive pre off your lips, and you’re so fucking wet for her. Her hands slide down your front and you jolt against her fingers when they circle that sensitive ridge on your nook.
“Please, Meulin.” You murmur, against her lips, and then repeat it when she pulls back. “Please, I, can I please, uh.” You can’t make yourself say it, in the moment.
Meulin giggles, circling your nub again and pulling your hair to arch your head back and bite your throat. “Do you need my bulge, Equius? Do you want me, or Purrloz?” You can’t even breathe from all the-the everything of her, her rumblespheres pressed to your chest and her teeth in your throat and both of them playing with your nook.
“Yes.” You whine, touching her arm to let your hair go. Kurloz’ fingers curl again, teasingly. “Please. Yes. Anything.” You’re dripping down your thighs for them, both of them, but you make sure she can see what you’re saying. “Anything you want.”
Kurloz nuzzles against your hair, purring low in his throat, and you whine when his hand pulls back, and again when his voodoos pull out of your pan. Meulin cups your cheek, bumping her forehead with yours affectionately. “Just for a minute, Equi-hiss. Kiss me again.” You wouldn’t want to disobey, even if you were the kind of troll who would.
You’re pulled forward, over her, until you’re kneeling over her hips, her bulge twisting around your own. She leads your hands to her rumblespheres and arches her back up encouragingly when you tentatively grope them, your face flushing darker even than before. You’ve touched rumblespheres, of course, you’re not a loser, it’s just. Different, when you aren’t in a bath with your moirail, is all. It’s different.
You like them, though.
Meulin leads you to settle on her lap, leaning more heavily against the pile behind her, her hand wrapping around both of your bulges to stroke them slowly, and you lean in to kiss her again. Her bulge is warm and you wonder what it’ll feel like inside of you.
“Motherfucker, it’s fuckin’ miraculous.” Kurloz purrs, wrapping his voodoos and his arms around you, cold and strong and gorgeous. His hips are sharp and naked against your ass, and his hands slide up from your waist to grope at your chest, cooing in his throat. “Lookit how fuckin’strong a motherfucker is, too. Pretty blue bro, so good for my kittybitch.”
Your head falls back against his shoulder and you whimper, sweating under the praise and physical attention. Meulin’s bulge is hot, wrapped around yours, and her hand squeezes your bulge wonderfully, enough that you rock against her hand to wordlessly ask for more, though you’re not entirely sure what of. Anything, it feels, she does to you is good, her hand on your bulge, her teeth against your skin, her rumblespheres in your hands (though that isn’t really her doing something to you), all of it is great.
Kurloz squeezes your chest a little, and you turn your head to kiss under his painted jaw, apologetic about forgetting him. He just rumbles a purr, unworried, and rolls his sharp hips against you again. You keep kissing his jaw between huffed moans, and shudder when his bulge slithers down to wrap around your thigh, with some to spare. The thicker base grinds against your nook at this angle and it makes it hard to have much of any time between moans to kiss him. Your rhythm breaks up to just grind against him, but Meulin doesn’t seem to mind.
If anything, she appreciates it, because she unwinds her bulge from yours and leads it down to twist against your nook, and around Kurloz’ bulge. You chirp and grind down against them more, arching your throat into Kurloz’ claws dragging against it, mewling an embarrassingly submissive noise that sparks a series of images in his pan, and they flash to yours before he snaps it closed, teasing that he shouldn’t show his hand too soon. You hope at least one of the scenes happens soon, with him shoving your face into Meulin’s nook and pailing you from behind.
The knot of their bulges grinds against your nub wonderfully, but you’re empty, and with them right there and Meulin pulling you down against her and Kurloz thinking about your pretty blue nook, split wide on a motherfucker’s bulge, you want so much more than just teasing pressure. You’re wet and your bulge is twisting fretfully around your thigh and they’re teasing you, tickling their blunted claws over your grubscars and, in Meulin’s case, biting bruises into your pectorals and collarbones.
You only realize you’re speaking when Meulin pulls your chin down to see, her kisses up your throat stopping. “Please. Please, Meulin, I need more. Anything. Please.” You grind back against Kurloz to include him in the request.
“You need more, Equius?” She purrs, squeezing your bulge and grinding against you. “You need our bulges?”
Kurloz rumbles softly, his hands sliding down your front, and you whimper when he strokes your bulge, his other hand pressing down to rub two fingers against your nub in quick dizzying circles. “Need us sharin’ this cute blue nook, sweet thing? Make you whine split open with both our bulges in you? Oh, you like that, don’t you, pretty motherfucker? I feel you wigglin’ on me.” He chuckles against your neck and you beg more, your words losing coherency when Meulin bites your throat again.
Your wet is dripping down your thighs and staining the blankets, but they don’t rush, or even match your desired pace. Meulin’s hands move to grope your ass while Kurloz works your bulge and nook both with his hands, until you’re holding his arms and trying not to throw yourself on your face to present your nook to him. His hand on your bulge keeps it from plunging into your own nook to give at least a little relief. You’re frustrated and edging towards an unsatisfying orgasm, but you can’t find it in yourself to rush them. They’re in control, and it’s exciting and frustrating and you’re so needy for them.
You almost want them to tease you more.
Meulin licks your lowest grubscar and you shudder, arching yourself towards her to encourage more. Her teeth sink into the sensitive skin between grubscars and you shudder, your bulge dripping pre and your teeth almost chattering. You need them; you’re shaking and leaning heavily against Kurloz’ slim, cold chest, your thighs shaking with how much you feel and, partially, how completely they have you. Kurloz supports you easily, his long limbs strong as well as lanky, and Meulin smothers you with attention, her warm hands smoothing down your front and her mouth covering your chest in teasing little bites.
And you’ve fooled around, some, but not much. Not this much, certainly. You’re realizing how unprepared you are for this as they go on, but any hesitation your pan draws up is crushed with you wanting this. Kurloz, in your pan, asks you again if you’re sure, positive, that it’s okay, and you tell him yes, but ask him to just be gentle, and he promises that he wouldn’t do anything that you asked them not to (besides teasing, because he says you make the sweetest noises and he can’t help it).
You want this. You want this, because they’re not pushing you, and you like them, and they feel good and even the muted noises Kurloz makes sound good, and you just want them. You’ve wanted them as long as your pan has acknowledged how gorgeous they are, both together and alone, Meulin with her long hair, and eyes like Nepeta’s, absolutely stunning, and Kurloz with his sharp angles and long eyelashes and the way they weave their fingers together and make the prettiest couple on the square.
They’re so pretty and so good and you’re so wet, and you yelp out loud when Meulin’s hand on your thigh pulls your legs wider apart. She’s made a trail back up to your neck, her bulge again in a knot with Kurloz’ between your thighs, and her hand slides up your thigh, claws tickling gently over your skin, and then she wrangles both of their bulges to finally, finally press into your nook.
Both of them ease you forward, to lean against her, your nose pressing into her hair and your thighs shivering. Your back is arched to hold your hips up, and Kurloz grips your ass with the hand he doesn’t use to hold their bulges as they press into you. Even just starting they’re thicker than your own, than you’d expected. It doesn’t rightly hurt, but you can feel yourself having to stretch for them, the resistance of your nook around them easing slowly, with a low burn that rolls up your spine and makes you croon.
It’s a lot.
It’s good, but it’s a lot to manage. Neither of them rush you, and Meulin turns your head down to kiss you more, half distracting you, though it doesn’t work all that well, because you can still feel their bulges and Kurloz’ wandering fingers sliding over the lips of your nook while easing into you. You have to break away from her kiss to pant and whine against her neck, twitching your hips back against his hold, and they twist in further. The stretch is starting to burn, almost more than you can enjoy, and your bulge is going limp from it until Meulin starts stroking you again.
You sound like a pailvid. You feel like a pailvid; Indigo Virgin Split By Clown and Olive, you’d probably search something like that. You’re gasping and panting and breathing out these submissive little noises against her skin, rocking between them even while you feel your stomach tightening. Oh gods. You’re getting close and they’re not even fully in you, and Kurloz purrs that you should just spill for us, sweet lil thing and you whine. His fingers slide up to your nub and you shudder, rocking faster against his fingers and into her hand and pressing them deeper inside you because you need them inside you, you really do.
“That’s good, bluebrother.” Kurloz purrs, speeding his hand while you pant harshly against Meulin’s skin. She turns her head to bite your ear, purring softly, and you whine. “Fuck yeah. Keep movin’ your hips. Makin’ those sweet little noises of yours.”
You wonder if he can tell that you like being praised. Probably, from the gentle probing in your pan and the fact that he keeps doing it, but maybe he’s just talkative during sex. The hand Meulin doesn’t have on her bulge slides up into your hair and wraps around your horn, and she drags the claw on her thumb along the slight chitinous ridges of it and you shudder, barely able to keep yourself from collapsing on her because there’s so much happening and she’s so pale with you, and gentle, and so so pretty.
You feel bad for not being able to kiss back very well, but she takes over anyway, tilting your head and nibbling at your bottom lip while you just moan and shiver uselessly on your wobbly arms. You feel so full and they’re not even fully in, and Kurloz’ hands feel so good and Meulin is kissing your throat, and you want them so much.
Your bulge spasms and you sob a moan into Meulin’s hair as you spill, blue spurting in a messy streak over Meulin’s abdomen and your nook contracting around them, trying to pull them in deeper into your nook. Your arms give up and you fall against Meulin’s chest as softly as you can, shuddering until your teeth chatter. Both of them just feed their bulges into your fluttering nook, still slowly, and your body accepts them because you’re sensitive and you need them inside you more than you need air.
Kurloz’s fingers have stopped spoiling your nub, and you can almost breathe. Meulin’s bulge is fully inside you at this point, and she holds you forward to let Kurloz move against you easier, her bulge writhing fitfully and making you see stars with how hot it is. He wipes his hand and strokes up your back, purring vague, soft compliments into your pan as he does. Meulin’s hands pet down your sides, through your hair, and you’re crooning for her by the time Kurloz lurches forward and presses his hips against your ass.
You truly feel split, now, with him fully in you and the only thing keeping you from falling over being that you’re laying flat against Meulin, your face tucked down into her hair and your arms moving of their own accord to wrap around her desperately. She mumbles sweet, mostly nonsense to you, nuzzling against your throat, and after a second of shifting, Kurloz drapes himself against your back, purring low in his throat and kissing your horns in that fluttery way he does, and you relax between them.
The burn is still there, but less, and when Kurloz eventually sits back to move, it’s even less, overshadowed by the nerves lighting up in your nook, deeper than you can reach with your own, even twisting against your seedflap. Meulin asks in that sugary voice that makes you shiver if you want to pail her, too, because you earned it, and you shake your head without lifting your face. You’re so sensitive you can’t exhale without moaning, you can’t imagine having more happening, and even while you apologize uselessly against her hair she’s telling you that you’re fine, you’re doing so well for them.
Kurloz leans over you, covering your body with his own, and rolls his hips slowly against you, purring low in his throat and in your pan. “So fuckin’ good for us, motherfucker. Keep relaxin’.” He kisses the back of your neck and you chirp, carefully squeezing Meulin to yourself.
You’re being so good.
“Equius, look at me.” Meulin purrs, cupping your cheeks and pulling your head down to face her. She kisses you softly, peppering your cheeks with little pecks, and only stops when you’re trying to follow her lips and kiss her properly. “You’re so cute when you blush!”
As she says that, she gently squeezes your cheeks, and you flush darker blue, breathing in little whines while Kurloz grinds against you, nuzzling against the back of your neck. He pets your side, using his other arm to prop himself up, and you take a moment to just enjoy being surrounded by them both. Meulin kisses you again, and Kurloz sits further up, and the moment passes, but you feel warm and adored and cared for still. You feel full, and sensitive, and you press your face back into Meulin’s hair as soon as she lets you, but you feel cared for, because they pet at you and coo over you, over how good you do for them.
After a few more seconds, you even start to rock back, as the stretch fades and you’re just enjoying it again, your thighs shivering around Meulin’s hips. Your nook flutters and your bulge twists down to wrap around the base of Meulin’s, but doesn’t push further to her nook, and Kurloz tlts your hips with his hands, just pressing down on your lower back and lifting your ass, and you croon when he has you present to him, begging wordlessly for more.
“That’s good, blue. Just like that. Lift them hips for me, lemme get right in there.” Kurloz purrs, starting a quick, jolting pace that makes you loud enough you’d worry about Meulin’s comfort if not for her being deaf. “Motherfuckin’ sweet little noises, blue, yeah. Push back like that.”
You croon this wobbly noise and move against him more, trying to match his pace as well as you can. Your skin connecting with his makes a sharp noise, and Meulin coos at you more while you move, murmuring that you’re so eager, you’re doing so well. It’s honestly a little overwhelming to just have so much praise; you always imagined yourself being punished for something vague; a minor misstep in some centuries-old gala setting and being whipped, or something.
But this is better. You’ve never really liked pain. Not like, a lot of it, anyway. You like having your hair pulled a little, or your ass slapped, but anything heavy always, inevitably, scared you off. You like the pace of this, but even more than that, you like that Kurloz is praising you, and kisses your head and neck, and that Meulin is there, soft and warm and adoring, kissing you and leading Kurloz so you don’t have to think about it. Gods know you wouldn’t have a clue what to do if you were supposed to direct him, you have to be directed too, physically moved to better angles and to meet Meulin’s lips and you have to just hope you haven’t squeezed her too hard and bruised her while all this has been happening.
You’d feel so guilty if you did, just like you do every time you accidentally bruise Nepeta.
Meulin cups your face to kiss you, her hands warm and soft, and you moan against her lips, let her lead your face to her neck and just soak up the smell of her perfume and her hands petting through your hair. She makes a pleased, giggling noise when you kiss her neck, lifting her chin to give you access. You’re not going to bite, or even consider leaving a mark; you don’t know what you’d do if she were hurt by it. You don’t want to mess up.
She likes this fine, anyway, purring louder under your lips and arching her neck up for you to reach. Her fingers tangle into your hair and tug, gently, and it’s different when you’re not just alone pretending it’s someone else; it’s good, her pulling your head up to instruct you. You look at her, waiting for some kind of order, and she just purrs while Kurloz wraps his arms around your chest to pull you upright, his face pressing into your neck and his hips twitching against you.
Now, Meulin can move, and she holds your hips while she does. The angle isn’t perfect, but they adjust you, Kurloz sitting back on his haunches and pulling your legs up and apart, and her following to sit up, and it’s good. They can both move against you now, and the stimulation is enough that you feel dizzy. Your nook feels hot, and it builds up your spine to the base of your skull until you’re incoherent, just begging for more and calling their names as well as you can imagine. Kurloz gropes your chest and strokes your bulge out of time with her thrusts and you’re gone, again.
Your voice breaks when you come, and you shudder, grabbing maybe a little too hard at Kurloz’ wrist to ground yourself, and Meulin kisses your face, her pace not slowing. Your bulge spasms but your body seems to have decided to hold onto your material for now, so at least you don’t make much of a mess. Maybe that would be good; having to clean up the mess you make when you come. That seems like the kind of punishment you could handle.
Even when you finally are able to come down, you’re still shivering, because they’re both moving against you, chasing their own orgasms, and you’re sensitive and sweaty and exhausted; no one told you how tiring this was, and you’ve hardly even moved yourself this whole time. You turn your head against the mess of Kurloz’ hair and try to catch your breath around the shuddery, oversensitive moans you keep making. He’s still purring praise to you, his fingers digging into your chest as he goes, and that’s good too.
You’ll have to ask them to try this again, see what you can handle. Meulin’s teeth sink into your shoulder as she spills, hot and sudden and overwhelming, and you clutch at her, the heat difference making your nook light up almost painfully. Kurloz is only a few moments behind her, his noises muffled behind his lips and against your neck as he spills, filling you again. You feel too full, from two trolls spilling in you, and the material dribbles down your thighs while they hold you between them, grinding into your nook as they finish.
You stretch your neck back as you manage to catch your breath and Meulin kisses up your throat, her hands rubbing down your sides. You feel sticky and tired, but good. She combs your hair off your forehead where it was stuck down, and Kurloz takes over petting and papping your chest and sides. The spots where his fingers dug into you are already threatening to bruise, and you trace them, wondering how dark they’ll get. Your legs feel useless, noodly, and you mumble as much against Kurloz’ hair.
“Ain’t no problem, sweet thing.” He coos, turning you to sit sideways in his lap. He cradles you to his chest as he stands, following Meulin, who complains of having made herself sweat, and you chirp at being carried so easily. “Just get a relax on. Don’t mind none to clean up a precious motherfucker who made us feel all kindsa good shit.”
You flush and press your face against his shoulder, purring low in your chest. Meulin has already started a bath by the time Kurloz finishes smooching your hair and horns, and has him set you in her lap in the tub. He clambers in behind her, and you sigh, leaning against her chest, your head turned into her neck. You feel the material kind of drain and try not to shiver or groan or feel gross, which is made easier by the fact that Meulin smothers you with affection, telling you exactly what she liked and papping you when you mention worrying about not moving enough, or being able to reciprocate more. It’s a little bit of a pain to turn yourself so she can see, but your hips feel less sore in the hot water already.
“You did fine, Equi-hiss.” She purrs, papping your cheek softly. “Purrloz and I both had fun. We don’t expect you to do everything for us.”
You nod, and she tucks you against her neck some more. Kurloz is purring so loud it sounds like snoring, and you think he might actually be asleep; it’s hard to tell when you can’t see him. The water and the soft, idle petting from Meulin is starting to put you to sleep, too, by the time she gently ushers you out. Kurloz follows, groggy, and folds himself into her coon on the other side of you, nuzzling against your hair. When you wake up, you’ll be sore, but not in a bad way, and you’ll take a shower, and then head to Nepeta’s, since she’s said she wants to hear about any of the stuff you do with Meulin and Kurloz.
Before you leave, Meulin will kiss you breathless, and you’ll walk the short distance to Nepeta’s hive with a dopey grin on your face.