Movie Night

Love, Silverstream had concluded after years of thought and talks and experiences of all kinds, was bullshit.

The popular kind of love was, anyway — the kind shown in kitschy movies and written about in cheap novels, where one creature had to convince the other to be something they previously weren’t, and destiny and fate and undefinable feelings were in control more than the creatures living through them. That sort of love was supposed to be an otherworldly force, undeniable and unconquerable, a passionate kiss in the rain and a defiant embrace in the face of death.

Silverstream had seen rain — seen death. She had felt it wash over her, cold and senseless, a force actually bigger and stronger than any mortal thing it touched. She had watched it batter creatures into being something other than what they previously were — something quieter, twitchier, more likely and sometimes even more eager to explode into frustration and rage.

There was nothing impassioning about living through it, nothing romantic about defying it. It happened whether you wanted it to or not. And love was not like that.

Love, she had learned from friends and enemies and all manner of creatures in between, was a choice. It was an action taken or not taken, an idea expressed or consciously left unspoken, a conversation spread across several hours or compressed into a few words. It was looking at someone else and not just wanting them to be happy or safe, but wanting them to be better, and wanting to make yourself better so you could help them be the best they could possibly be.

Hugging, kissing, fucking, being fucked? That wasn’t love. It was affection, certainly, and usually lots of fun, but it was one piece of a puzzle that didn’t always match the picture on the box it came in.

Love was knowing that when your arms fell away, your lips parted, your climax drifted into afterglow and your partner’s touch faded from physical memory, they’d still be there when you needed them. They’d wake up beside you in the morning, or smile at you across the table, or just sit by you as you grit your teeth over a test grade or laughed at a half-remembered joke, or grappled with the knowledge that life was short and creatures could be evil and there was a part of you you’d had in childhood that you were never going to get back — that evil creatures with short lives had taken from you — no matter how hard you tried or how wonderful life had been since.

Love was forgiving yourself for that. Love was knowing someone else did too. Love was trusting them to know who you were, and to enjoy the parts of you that you liked and live through the ones you didn’t, and to lose time and sleep and higher meaning with you because you were having so much fun just purposelessly existing together.

In other words? Love was bullshit.

And that was basically why Silverstream liked this part of Friday nights the best — so late into the evening that it was nearly morning, multiple hours and orgasms already past, nothing much more than fumes left in everyone’s proverbial tanks. There was always love between her and her friends, not just on these nights but on all others and the days attached to them too. But right now was when she felt it the strongest. Right now was when she knew it was real.

Right now, Gallus was lying behind her on the couch, chest against her back, arms wrapped loosely around her midsection, legs bent in tandem with hers so his knees slotted neatly behind her own. She was a tiny bit taller than him, so he couldn’t quite fit his chin overtop of her head, but he didn’t seem to mind. He seemed just fine brushing his beak and cheeks into her neck, taking measured breaths in and out that tickled against her skin, leaving little smooches and pecks along her shoulder that left lingering tingles inside her spine.

She wasn’t sure how many times he’d cum tonight — her own count was four, so she’d been a bit too occupied to keep count for anyone else. All she could tell for sure was that he was hard right now, his cock slipped between her legs and the top of his shaft pressed against her lower lips, and that his breath on her neck hitched just a bit every time she slightly shifted her thighs and gently pushed her butt against him.

Neither of them did anything to push things any further. Both of them just lied there on the couch, enjoying the other’s presence, loving each other with little motions and quiet noises and lots of words left unspoken but not unsaid.

On the couch’s other side, Sandbar was on top of Yona, hands braced under her arms, eyes closed and tail twitching as he kissed between her breasts and languidly thrust into her. Yona watched him through lidded eyes, one hand resting on the small of his back, the other caressing his face and rubbing softly through his hair. Every time Sandbar sighed, Yona did too, and both of them flexed a bit — pressing a little closer together, pushing and pulling a little deeper inside.

They loved each other, in all ways and forms, and Silverstream loved watching them. From the small shifts in Gallus’ posture as he kissed her neck, she could tell he did too. Each of their motions was a statement in a conversation, a question followed by an immediate answer: “Does that feel good?” “Yes. Does that feel good?” “Yes.” They played off each other so well, patiently and silently, perfectly harmonized. It must’ve felt amazing. It felt almost as good just being near it.

On the floor between the couch’s wings, the last two members of their group weren’t quite as harmonized, but no less fun to observe. Ocellus was upright in Smolder’s lap, head dug under the dragon’s chin, arms bunched up over her chest. Smolder had her hind legs wrapped around the changeling’s thighs and her hands wrapped around Cell’s cock and balls, gently pumping and fondling as she muttered in her partner’s ear. Silver couldn’t see what Smolder was saying, but she could sure see the effect it had on Ocellus — in their squeezed-shut eyes and deep-red blush, and the barely audible whimpers that followed Smolder’s every whispered word.

This was how Friday nights always ended. They’d start in different ways, roll through different partners and positions and — in Cell’s case — sometimes sets of parts, but when things drew to a close and they were all rubbed and licked and railed down to the most basic of base desires, this was where they’d all end up. Smolder would dote on Ocellus, Yona and Sandbar would drift into another world together — and Silver would want Gallus, and Gallus would want her in return.

Silverstream laid her hand over Gallus’, laced her fingers through his, drew his palm up her abdomen until it bumped the underside of her breast. He took over from there, sliding his palm over her nipple and pressing down, squeezing gently in a steady rhythm that matched the kisses he placed on the bony bump where her spine met her neck. She sighed, and smiled, and snuggled deeper into him, full of a giddy sensation that felt like a flower infinitely blooming inside her chest.

It wasn’t that Silverstream wasn’t a fan of orgies. It was more complicated than that in some ways, simpler in others. Maybe the best way of saying it was that she could stand to go without them. She enjoyed being a third for Sandbar and Yona, relished the taste of Smolder’s pussy and the feeling of the dragon’s extra-long tongue inside her, and of course everyone adored everything about precious little — or big — or any size and form of Ocellus.

But if she were to pick any of them to go steady with, to commit to and stay with and love exclusively over any other creature, it’d be the griffon holding her right now. It’d been the creature who’d rolled his eyes more than smiled at her when they first met, who’d sat with her when old memories grew too big to keep inside, who’d shared some of his own with only her and found strength in the fact that she found strength in him.

It wasn’t quite what Yona and Sandbar had. Silver hadn’t told Gallus aloud she loved him like that, nor had he told her. But she knew it anyway, and knew someday it’d be translated into words both of them already understood as feelings. For now, this was fine. For now, she just liked cuddling with him, almost as much as he did with her.

Not that he’d ever admit how much of a softie he was, even though he was so totally obvious about it. Even though if you got close enough to him and touched the right spots and showed him the sort of love that few creatures filmed or wrote or really even talked about, he’d lavish you with little kisses and caress you with tender touches, and purr deep in his chest like he was doing right now.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t have to admit it. It was enough for Silver to know he felt it — to know, in his and her own way, what they had was real.

Over the rumbling in Gallus’ chest and the occasional squeak from the floor, Silverstream heard a hitch in Yona’s soft sighs of pleasure. She looked up just in time to see Sandbar ever so slightly quicken his pace, barely withdrawing before thrusting back into Yona, elbows locked out and jaw clenched as he got closer and closer to completion.

Yona groaned, shuddered, and pushed him over the edge with a roll of his hips and a tweak of his ear between her fingers. A single soft grunt escaped Sandbar’s lungs, and he went stiff as his climax rippled through his abs and chest, slumping back down onto his girlfriend only once the last pulse had wriggled out of him and as deep into Yona as any part of him could reach.

Silver felt a pang of inspiration below her waist, and then felt Gallus’s cock rub more intently against her opening. He was inspired too — but not from the other couple on the couch. On the floor, Smolder and Ocellus had switched positions: the former had laid the latter down flat atop the carpet, straddled them at the waist, spread her lips with two fingers and sank down onto her partner’s cock, taking them to the base in fluid and decadent strokes.

Smolder wasn’t whispering anymore, just grinning down at Ocellus as she groped their breasts from above and rolled her hips up and down, back and slowly forth at — judging by Cell’s slack-jawed expression — an utterly overwhelming pace. Silver’s own breath left her just looking at it. Cuddling could wait. Right now, she wanted some of that.

And Gallus gave it to her — opening her legs with a commanding tug of his hand, rubbing his fingers over her entrance to make sure she was ready for him, surging forward when he heard her consenting, encouraging moan. It took a few strokes for him to fully enter her, the not-quite-dampened skin of his cock tugging a bit painfully against her folds, but in seconds he was smoothly hilted and she was wriggling in his arms, cooing into the couch cushion as he squeezed his hands around her breasts and planted his lips on her neck and thrust into her with a blissful groan.

She wrapped her hand around his again, fingers laced, saying with every insistent squeeze, “Don’t just love me, take me.” He squeezed back — “You’re mine.” — and braced his feet in a crack between couch cushions so every new stroke could be more powerful than the last.

He was still purring, but it was loud enough now to sound more like growling, like there was nothing else in the world he wanted but her. It sent a thrill through Silver’s core like nothing else she’d ever felt, and each time Gallus’ hips smacked against hers and she felt his shaft stretch every secret part of her, that thrill reverberated from head to tail and back again, stronger and more deliriously fulfilling every single second.

She knew Yona and Sandbar were watching them. She could feel their eyes on her, even though her own eyes were a bit too blurry to be sure, and the knowledge spurred her towards even greater heights, sent goosebumps down her back and up her arms and through each saturated inch of her throbbing pussy. On second thought, maybe she was a fan of orgies, full stop. Going exclusive would be nice, but so was watching other creatures enjoying themselves — and especially so was being watched herself.

Silverstream lifted her leg a bit higher, rolled a bit further into Gallus behind her, encouraged him with an airy gasp and a girlish moan to help her give the rest of their friends a show worth remembering. He grunted into her shoulder and fucked her faster, thighs clapping wetly against her, shaft surging in and out at an angle that left every inch of his length — and every millimeter of his writhing partner — exposed to anyone who cared to look. Silver shut her eyes and pressed her face into the couch cushion, yielding completely, submerging herself to depraved, rising, almost peaking pleasure.

She came with a muffled groan, wantonly clenching around him, and the prideful grunt he let out when he felt it was enough to chase the ecstasy of orgasm with a heady rush of tingling adoration. She felt his lust, and his love, and both of them driving deeper into her as a mark of carnal territory — she could fuck other creatures, and so could he, but when and where it mattered most, she belonged to him, and he knew it, and she craved it.

As her climax tapered off, he flipped her onto her belly with firm and commanding hands, rolling on top of her in the same motion, hilted inside her the whole time. He pushed himself onto his knees and pulled her up with him, his grip unyielding under her belly, directing her into just the right kneeling, compliant position for him to line his hips up behind her and withdraw from within her and–

Silverstream moaned into the couch again — an involuntary, venerating, euphoric noise. She kept moaning as Gallus kept fucking her, driving his whole length into her, using her to heighten his own pleasure and knowing it would send hers skyrocketing. It was all she could do just to stay upright, just to arch her back and tense her thighs and submit to every single thing he could imagine doing, so long as it kept feeling this amazing when he did it to her.

She knew he was watching her — staring down at her soaked folds and spread cheeks, at his cock disappearing inside and between them, at the flush in her face and the drool dribbling from her open mouth as stars, fuck, she was about to cum again. She wanted to feel him cum with her. She wanted everyone to watch it happen — to see the man she loved claim the woman he loved back.

His hands tensed around her hips. His rhythm grew more insistent. He bottomed out inside her once, twice, and then stayed there, pushing into her, grunting as his climax hit and his seed spread through her, filling every crevice until it squeezed back out of her and all over her quivering lips. She remembered to breathe, barely, as each throb from his cock was matched by one from her cunt, as endorphins flooded her brain and trickled delightfully down into her heart. It was heavenly. It was perfect.

It was a mess, dripped and smeared and a bunch of other liquid-y words all over the fully ruined blankets on the couch. Thank goodness Ocellus was doing laundry tomorrow.

Speaking of whom, Ocellus seemed — when Silverstream gathered enough of her wits to crack her eyes open and point them towards the rest of the room — like she was in about the same place as the hippogriff was. She’d switched positions again, putting Smolder on her back and erratically humping between the dragon’s legs, buoyed by gentle squeezes of Smolder’s heels into her back and hushed encouragement from the dragon’s lips into the changeling’s ear.

It was almost a mirror image of Silver and Gallus: Smolder directing from the bottom, Ocellus on top like putty in the dragon’s hands. But the feeling — the emotion — the love was the same, and as plain as day looking at them. All Smolder wanted, in her eyes and her body and deep down in her soul, was for Ocellus to feel beautiful and wonderful and loved — and Ocellus could feel it, and put that feeling into every thrust, driving herself and Smolder both towards a final collective peak.

Distantly, Silverstream felt Gallus gently guide her back onto her side, his soft cock slipping out of her pussy, his chest and legs pressed into her again as he hugged her tight enough to feel like he’d never let her go. It made the sight in front of her all the better — matched the face-to-face embrace Yona and Sandbar shared next to them, and the still-coupling pair on the floor. They all basked in the moment together, watching the same show, waiting for things to end exactly as they always did.

Ocellus’ ragged pants pitched up into whimpering groans. Smolder tugged them flat on top of her, squeezing their ass, kissing once under their chin — and they cried out in bliss, buried to the hilt, balls tightened and twitching beneath them as they gave Smolder every single thing they had left to give. Judging by the grin splitting her face and the satisfaction lingering in her eyes, it was everything Smolder wanted and more.

Ocellus stayed that way — stiff as a board, cock pumping more and more cum into Smolder’s pussy until it leaked out from around their shaft in frothy white streams — until they physically couldn’t anymore. They collapsed on top of Smolder, and Smolder held them as their orgasmic groans faded into reverent coos.

And with that, all six creatures decided silently, the night was over. It had been another great one, Silverstream thought, and so did Gallus based on the gentle kiss he placed on her cheek, and the harder, deeper one he shared with her when she turned towards him and pressed her lips to his. They were satisfied, in every way possible, and exhausted. It was time for bed.

Or, Silverstream thought after shifting her legs and cringing a bit at how sticky and nearly-crusty the motion felt, maybe a shower first. Then bed. Definitely then bed.