Movie Night

A lot of creatures thought Sandbar was stupid, and he usually didn’t correct them. It was the kind of assumption that was hard to really talk someone out of — after all, the harder you try to convince someone that no, you’re not stupid, the stupider you tend to sound. So mostly, he just didn’t bother. And he was fine with that. His friends knew who he was, and anyone who wasn’t his friend wasn’t someone he felt like he needed to impress.

But if he had felt that need, for whatever reason, he probably still wouldn’t have argued, just clarified a bit. It was true that it took him a while to grasp new concepts in school, and that he sometimes missed what creatures implied when they talked to him, and that he himself talked pretty slow even by earth pony standards.

But that wasn’t because he was stupid. It was because he took his time. He walked around ideas and sat with them a bit before moving along to the next one, and he tried to listen to what others were saying rather than filling the spaces between their words with thoughts he couldn’t get out yet, and he let his mind catch up with his month before either of them chimed in on anything.

His friends got that. Other creatures didn’t. Other creatures thought a lot of things he couldn’t imagine thinking — things like “You let your girlfriend sleep around?” and “If that was my girl, I wouldn’t let her out of my sight,” as if “sleeping around” was all Yona was interested in or any creature was a thing he could think of as solely “his.” If anything in the world was stupid, Sandbar thought, it was the idea of ownership, of hoarding something so no one else could see or touch or interact with it at all. He much preferred sharing. His friends did too.

But of course, sometimes those friends asked for a wet wipe to clean your cum off their thighs, and ended up using your girlfriend’s tongue to do it instead. So yeah, that was a bit obnoxious. Could’ve saved a wipe if Smolder had just told him she was gonna do that to begin with.

From the hallway connecting their shared apartment’s living room to its three bedrooms, Sandbar watched the two of them go for a little bit, spare wet wipe pinched between his otherwise idle fingers. Yona was on her back, lying across the couch with Smolder straddling her snout and wrapping her tail around her horns. It looked like the dragon had tried to start 69ing and wasn’t long enough to actually make it work. Yona didn’t seem to mind, though — Smolder’s face was crumpled up in pleasure, and her thighs and butt looked spotless.

So they were occupied. Sandbar checked on Silverstream next, and found her on the floor in front of the TV, leaned back on her elbows with her arched legs spread and Ocellus lying between them. The changeling had their eyes closed and their hands braced under Silver’s thighs, gently lapping at Silver’s clit as pearly white cum dribbled down from their pussy onto the floor — which was thankfully covered like the couch in blankets nobody cared about staining.

Silverstream saw Sandbar watching them and smiled. She waved. He waved back. Ocellus could probably use the spare wipe, but he didn’t want to interrupt her. That left Gallus.

The griffon was seated on the section of the couch opposite Smolder and Yona, sipping from a water bottle, eyes bobbing slightly up and down as he watched Smolder’s gently bouncing breasts. His cock was soft, still smeared with Ocellus’ cum and likely his own too. He could probably use a wet wipe.

Honestly, Sandbar had been hoping he’d need one since he walked back in here.

Gallus’ gaze flicked over to Sandbar as the pony approached, and the corner of his mouth twitched up as Sandbar sat next to him, bare thighs just barely touching. When Sandbar wordlessly offered him the spare wipe, he took it, nodding his thanks as he cleaned himself up. Sandbar didn’t stare at him while he did. He stared at Ocellus instead, and watched Gallus through the corner of his eye. Totally didn’t count.

“How’s your night been so far?” Sandbar asked Gallus, pointedly not turning towards him.

“Pretty good,” Gallus answered, his head likewise motionless. “You?”

“Solid,” Sandbar said.

A moment passed, silent but for the soft sounds their friends made around them and the rustling thump of Gallus’ wet wipe hitting a trash can nearby. Sandbar shifted his leg so it pressed flush against the griffon’s. Gallus didn’t move away.

“I could use a breather,” Sandbar added.

“Me too,” came Gallus’ even reply.

Another shift — Sandbar’s hand onto Gallus’ thigh, fingers spread, rubbing back and forth. A tiny noise escaped the griffon’s throat, maybe a grunt, maybe just him clearing his throat. He still didn’t move away.

“What are you thinking?” Sandbar asked him.

“I’m good right here,” Gallus murmured back.

Sandbar lifted his hand away from Gallus’ leg, got one of his own legs underneath him, and swung the other overtop of Gallus as he swiveled his torso around. Sandbar’s butt landed on top of Gallus’ thighs. His arms fell on either side of the griffon’s head. Gallus moved — so he could press his hands into the small of Sandbar’s back and pull him closer.

Sandbar felt slightly damp skin touch slightly damp skin — wet wipe residue, and beneath it the soft wrinkles of Gallus’ balls against his own. The griffon’s cocktip poked out of his sheath, bumping into Sandbar’s tip as it reacted exactly the same way.

The pony took the griffon’s face in his hands, leaned down, and kissed him. Gallus closed his eyes, let out a soft sigh that could’ve just as easily been called a moan, and kissed him back.

The first time they’d all spent a Friday night together like this, Gallus had barely even looked at Sandbar the whole time. Sandbar had tried catching his eye a few times, and Gallus had always torn his gaze away, focusing on Silver’s tits or Smolder’s pussy, or the ceiling overhead as both of them blew him with Sandbar getting the same treatment from Yona and Ocellus right next to him on the couch.

Sandbar hadn’t thought much of it then — it was a new experience for all of them, and figuring out what you didn’t like was just as important as figuring out what you did. The next week, though, something had changed. Sandbar had felt Gallus’ eyes on him the entire evening — on his ass as he fucked Silver from behind, on his cock as it plunged into Yona’s waiting mouth, even on his face as he shot stripes of cum all over Cell’s heaving chest.

The third week, Sandbar had decided to do something about it. About halfway through, when he was in front of Smolder and Gallus was behind her, right as all three of them were nearing their peaks, he’d leaned forward — his cock sliding down Smolder’s throat to her audible delight — and kissed him. He’d startled, and squawked, and came almost instantly, just seconds before Smolder did with a strangled groan.

He’d fucked up. Sandbar knew he had right away — he hadn’t asked aloud, even suggested anything through a wink and a pointed smirk, just swooped in and smooched a years-long friend on a half-cocked, permissionless hunch. And then that friend had gaped at him with an unreadable look on his face, and Sandbar had learned for the first time in his life what shame really felt like — not embarrassment, not regret, but a yawning pit in his gut opened by doing something he couldn’t take back to someone he truly cared for.

Sandbar had barely participated the rest of that night, sitting off to the side and telling everyone he wasn’t feeling great, which wasn’t really a lie and was also pretty far from the truth. Blue balls were the least he deserved in the moment, he figured, especially since he could tell Gallus was distracted too. The next morning, the rest of the group had gone out for breakfast, and he and Gallus had stayed behind, staring at a soccer match on TV without really watching it, silent as something that felt worse than death.

And then, right as Sandbar had finally worked up the resolve to apologize, Gallus beat him to it — launching into a disorganized spiel about how he’d been really awkward last night and he’d been trying to get over himself for a while and he should’ve just asked for what he wanted and could they maybe try that again next Friday night, or whenever, or right now if Sandbar forgave him for being so hung up about stuff that didn’t matter at all when he was around his best friends.

Sandbar still apologized once he got his bearings — maybe it had worked out this time, but not asking first still wasn’t cool. And they didn’t try again right then, because there wasn’t a lull in their long conversation that felt quite right for it. But they did talk, at least, and Gallus got a little closer to liking himself as much as his friends liked him, and Sandbar felt a lot better.

And then they did try again the next Friday night, and every Friday night since. And it was pretty great.

A squeeze from Gallus’ hand brought Sandbar back to the present — back to the spicy, citrusy scent of the griffon’s body wash and the warmth of his chest against his, and his soft tongue pushing into and over Sandbar’s with tender and tantalizing strokes. Gallus was a great kisser, and Sandbar thanked him for it with caresses along his cheeks and quiet sounds of delight, and little rolls of his hips that pushed his stiffening cock into and over his partner’s at a tingling, torturously tempting speed.

In seconds, Sandbar was achingly hard, and he could feel Gallus was too. The griffon’s kisses grew more insistent, his tongue firmer in the pony’s mouth and his hands tighter around his ass, not battling for dominance but struggling to tamp down desire. One of Gallus’ hands rose to the back of Sandbar’s head, gripped him firmly, pulled him down hard. Sandbar groaned and let him do it, pushing Gallus’ tongue back into his mouth, thrashing his own tongue around it as his lips formed an airtight seal around his partner’s.

He was delicious, salacious, overwhelming. When it got to be almost too much, Sandbar reluctantly pulled away, face flushed with heat, panting through parted lips still covered in Gallus’ saliva. He dropped his hand into his lap and squeezed his and Gallus’ cocks together, rubbing his thumb over the droplets of pre beaded at both tips and smearing them in lusty circles around both their heads.

Gallus’ grunt of satisfaction rippled down Sandbar’s spine like a sudden cool breeze, sending a shudder through him that ended as a throb he knew Gallus could feel just as much as his partner could. Sandbar met the griffon’s eyes, spread his fingers behind Gallus’ head, gently pinched their tips together between his slick fingers and sticky thumb.

“You wanna?” Sandbar whispered, repositioning a bit in Gallus’ lap so he could tell him with his eyes and legs and entire body that he was his, right now, in whatever way Gallus wanted him. He saw the griffon’s eyes narrow a bit, and his nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath and gripped Sandbar’s ass and really, deeply thought about it.

Then he bit his lip, and let out a small sigh, and pressed his lips back to Sandbar’s, kissing him without reservation exactly as he had before. That was his answer: “Not yet.” That was his trust in Sandbar, his comfort with who he was, his appreciation for what they’d done together and would do together in weeks and maybe years to come — and his acknowledgement that, right now, there were still a couple bridges he wasn’t quite ready to cross. He would be, someday, but not right now.

But right now he was also saying, with his hands and lips and rock-hard cock: “I’m very good like this.” Sandbar could work with that. And he’d enjoy it too.

Hand still in his lap, cocks still pressed together, Sandbar kissed him back, steering Gallus’ head with his free hand until he had the griffon sunk as deep into the couch as he could go and had himself draped over him. From this position, Sandbar could switch from jerking his hips to thrusting — to grinding all of himself against all of Gallus, from tip to shaft to tightening sack, and all the way back down again until his own tip slotted between the griffon’s balls.

What had once been a droplet was now a stream — squeezing out of Sandbar’s tip, smearing under his flare, spreading over his length and making each ensuing stroke slicker, smoother, infinitely better. He could feel himself nearing his peak already, and he slowed down enough to let the pulsing, tightening sensation pass. As he came to rest, his balls pressed against Gallus’ again, the loose fuzzy skin wonderfully warm against his.

“Fuck…” Gallus sighed, eyes shut, shoulders tensed. He must’ve been close too. Good thing Sandbar had stopped himself. He wanted this to last. He wanted to savor this moment — the only one of its kind he might have this week. It’d be silly to call it a “downside,” but it certainly was a fact of life: he had lots of pussies to choose from among his friends, but precious few dicks, and that could be tough when you liked both of them just about equally.

Tough, but manageable. Especially if Ocellus helped. But that was something to think about later, if they were up for it.

Sandbar leaned down, brushing his lips over Gallus’, letting the griffon take the lead in kissing him rather than the other way around. He twitched his hips, barely moving at all, just enough for the ridge of his flare to prod against the underside of Gallus’ curvier, pointier head.

“That feel good?” Sandbar murmured, nuzzling his nose into the griffon’s beak.

“Yeah…”

“Tell me how good.”

Sandbar pressed his hips flush against the griffon’s. Gallus grimaced and groaned. “Hohfuck,” was his first answer through gritted teeth, before he collected himself with a couple paced-out breaths. “You know how good it feels,” he said next.

“Yeah.” Sandbar kissed Gallus’ neck, right by his collarbone, trapping a little pinch of skin between his teeth as he suckled and Gallus hissed with pleasure. “But I like hearing you say it.”

“You know that’s usually my line, right?” Gallus grunted — his voice hitching as Sandbar twitched again in his lap.

“Yeah, but now I’m saying it,” Sandbar mumbled into the griffon’s neck, before dragging his lips up towards his ear, flicking with his tongue as his voice dropped into a whisper. “And I want you to enjoy it.”

Sandbar felt Gallus’ cock jump against his — how he didn’t cum right then and there, the pony had no idea. Every part of Gallus was fully, unyieldingly erect, from spine to limbs to burning-hot prick. He had seconds left to work with. He made the most of them.

“So don’t hold back,” Sandbar crooned into Gallus’ ear. “I want all of you.”

He dragged his hips forward and back, stroking the griffon’s cock with his own once, twice — more than enough. A strangled groan, almost a whimper, left Gallus’ throat, and Sandbar felt him erupt beneath him. He felt every throb of his cock, every jet from his tip, every boiling-hot splash of his cum across both their stomachs and chests — dripping down off Sandbar’s abs, pooling in the creases between the griffon’s.

And Sandbar felt himself right there with him, a couple extra sloppy thrusts all it took for him to rocket over the edge too. Through almost-shut eyes, he watched himself paint Gallus’ groin and chest with his load, their jizz mixing together on top of him, his whole bottom half buzzing and seizing and sounding out a mutual, mind-melting orgasmic beat.

They clutched onto each other, riding it out, their ragged arrhythmic breaths tainting the melody their bodies made together — and then the tension drained out of them, and a wave of euphoria washed over them, and they crashed together on the couch, heads parallel, quickly-cooling semen squished between their chests.

Ugh. Gross. Whatever. They could clean up in a minute.

“Y-You gotta stop flopping onto me,” Gallus shakily said once he caught his breath, gesturing with his hands as he wrapped them lovingly around Sandbar’s back. “Makes a mess.”

“Next time you can be on top,” Sandbar mumbled, face pressed into the couch cushion. It smelled like Gallus — spicy and citrusy. It made his own head spin faster. It was really nice.

“Next time I will be,” Gallus muttered into his ear — sliding his hands down Sandbar’s back, squeezing his ass again. Sandbar shivered. That’d be really, really nice.

In the meantime, though, Gallus was warm, and not that sticky, really. And he was stroking Sandbar’s back, and nuzzling into his ear, and craning his neck — looking at something beyond the wonderfully Gallus-scented couch cushion.

“No, we didn’t mind you guys watching. Glad you asked.”

Sandbar forced himself to look up. Smolder was kneeling on the couch next to the two boys, hand wedged between her legs, cheeks still glowing with what must’ve recently been rapt attention. As Sandbar peeled himself off Gallus’ chest and settled onto the griffon’s thighs, he saw Silverstream on their other side, just about a mirror image of Smolder in every way.

“It’s an orgy, bud,” Smolder shot back — still idly working her hand beneath her. “Kinda hard not to watch.”

“Plus it’s so hot when you guys do that,” Silver added, shuddering a bit. “Like, you have no idea.”

“I have an idea,” Sandbar chuckled, rubbing a few feathers on Gallus’ crest between his fingers. Gallus snorted and grinned, leaning into the contact, thanking him with another grope.

“I’ve got an idea too,” Smolder said. She was staring at Gallus’ chest, or rather at the milky streaks laced overtop of it. She had a look in her eyes Sandbar only ever saw well into Friday nights — a ravenous look, some holdover of ancient draconic desire that it took a couple orgasms and a particular bit of visual inspiration to draw out of her.

Gallus was about to save himself a wet wipe. So was Sandbar, if Silver’s likewise-hungry gaze was anything to go by.

Sandbar swung his leg back over Gallus and flopped next to him on the couch, shoulder to shoulder and buttcheek to buttcheek. As he spread his legs, Silverstream slotted herself between them, right as Smolder did the same for Gallus.

The hippogriff smiled up at him, winked, then extended her hand and tongue together — both landing on his softening cock, the latter dragging up its length and onto his stomach up to the top of his ribs, collecting a mouthful of spunk along the way. Next to her, Smolder swirled her tongue — longer, thinner, even more dextrous — around Gallus’ tip, waiting until he leaned into Sandbar and groaned before she shifted herself upwards and sealed her lips around his cum-drenched belly button.

“Thanks,” he told Silverstream, stroking her cheek with the backs of his fingers. She let out a happy hum, swallowed, and came back for seconds, saturating his belly in saliva as she sucked up each strand of jizz he’d splattered onto himself. His cocktip poked into the underside of her chin, then pressed up into it. He was hard again. She let out another happy hum when she noticed.

“No problem,” she sighed, her smile broken only by Sandbar’s shaft sliding between her parted lips.

Sandbar settled back into the couch, letting the warmth of Silver’s mouth soak into him and settle in the center of his pelvis. He was still sensitive, and every touch of her tongue sent shivers up his back, but she took things slow for him, letting him recover a bit every time she pulled back and taking her sweet, savoring time when she sank her lips back down to his base.

Gallus wasn’t so lucky. Smolder had gotten every drop of cum off his stomach in seconds and looked desperate to get more straight from the source, bobbing her head rapidly over his tip and vigorously stroking every part of his shaft outside of her mouth. The expression on Gallus’ face was somewhere between “This is the greatest moment of my life” and “I’m going to die right here on this couch.” Probably didn’t matter whether Smolder saw it. She didn’t look like she was going to stop.

Sandbar felt the couch shift as someone sat down to him — way too big to be Ocellus, unless she’d morphed without him noticing. He turned and smiled as Yona put her arm around his shoulders, drawing his head down onto her breast as she watched Silver blow him.

“How’s Sandbar doing?” she murmured, planting a soft kiss on his forehead as she scratched her fingers behind his ear.

“Sandbar’s doing great,” he said, returning the favor with a peck on her chest, a few inches above her — clearly well-attended-to judging by its shine in the dim light — nipple. “Where’s Ocellus?”

“Ocellus is fine,” Yona told him. She caught Silver’s eye as she spoke, waiting for an affirmative nod from the hippogriff before continuing. “Just needed a minute.”

“Hmm,” Sandbar hummed. “A minute” for Ocellus could mean a few different things: a bathroom break, a moment to clean up, or something else. Secretly, he really hoped it was something else. Those nights with Ocellus were his favorite.

“Meantime,” Yona went on, “Yona could use some help.”

Sandbar smiled — both at Yona’s words and at Silver’s tongue flicking under his tip. “What kinda help?”

He looked up and saw a lecherous grin spread across his girlfriend’s face — and then followed her gaze over to the griffon next to him.

“The kind Gallus can help with too,” she said.

Sandbar smirked, and gently guided Silver off of him, and worked his hand behind Yona’s back until he could squeeze it around her ass. Scratch that: these nights were his favorite — especially if Ocellus could help too.