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Milo’s first orgasm of the night comes (heh) from Ashton, of course.
He’s been teasing their clit with his thumb in just the way they like—and he knows it, the absolute shit—for what feels like hours while the other three prepare and pepper little kisses and affectionate touches along their naked body. Fearne is sucking on one of their calloused fingers as she pulls a leather harness over her wide hips. Braius—who, according to Ashton, got “corrupted” into joining in on the polyamory train by Fearne—is licking into their mouth, his broad tongue absorbing their desperate moans. Chetney is scraping his sharp teeth against the side of their neck, hovering on the edge of leaving hickies—or something much more permanent, as evidenced by his lupine transformation.
Ashton speeds up his sharp circles around Milo’s clit, and Milo thinks that he’s going to get them right up to the edge again before denying their release once again. And then, they feel their inner walls start clenching in a familiar rhythmic pattern as their pleasure reaches its peak. They moan into Braius’ mouth just as Chetney and Fearne bite lightly down on their skin.
Milo’s second orgasm of the night comes from Chetney.
The gnome-turned-werewolf has his snout buried deep in the space between Milo’s legs. His tongue is long and wet and apparently insanely dextrous, and it is perfect for eating Milo out like a, well, like a starving dog. Chetney’s pace is relentless and rough and fast, and for the brief moment before another climax crests over them, Milo wonders how such an old man still has so much stamina. There’s nothing muffling them this time, as Braius had moved away to stare in awe and worship at Fearne’s newly exposed tits, so Milo’s cry rings out across the entire Krook House. Once coherent thoughts begin to return to them, they almost have to laugh from how glad they are that Anni is out practicing with her band tonight.
Milo’s third orgasm of the night comes from Braius.
Ashton has propped Milo up against their stony chest so that the others can have better access to Milo. Braius is kneeling between Milo’s bent knees with an almost reverent expression on his face as one of his large fingers sinks into them. The finger thrusts in and out a few times, stretching and exploring and pleasuring. Then, Braius leans forward to start licking at their clit to the same rhythm as he fingers them. Milo arches up with another cry, and Ashton has to grab their wrists to keep them from dislodging Braius. That broad, flat tongue feels so good as it continues to work them through their peak.
Milo is on the verge of overstimulation when Braius finally pulls away, only to be replaced by Fearne. The faun has gotten her harness fixed on her hips, with a distinctly phallic shape made of smooth wood protruding from the front. With an impish grin and an almost terrifying giggle, she sinks her toy fully inside them with a single thrust. Milo has been well-prepared at this point, so all they feel is a satisfying sense of fullness and a new height of pleasure.
Braius and Chetney resume kissing, licking, and biting down Milo’s body. Ashton keeps their wrists bound in his tight grasp while his lips and teeth tease the tip of their ears. Fearne sets an almost tortuous pace, switching between rapid, shallow thrusts and slow, deep strokes with no apparent rhythm or predictability. Overwhelmed by the constant sensation, Milo hovers on the crest of their pleasure.
Finally, Braius and Chetney both reach the place where Fearne is still plunging her toy inside Milo and begin alternating licking and sucking on their clit again. Ashton grabs their chin with his free hand and tugs them into a searing kiss full of clashing teeth and dancing tongues. With actual tears forming in the corners of their eyes and a sound somewhere between a sob, a moan, and a scream escaping from their throat, Milo is gone, gone, gone as their fourth orgasm of the night overtakes them.
As Fearne slips out of them and bends over to “clean up the mess” she made—she says, blinking up with the least innocent expression possible on her face—with her own rough tongue, Milo feels the heady sensation of arousal and growing pleasure wash over them once more and resigns themself to unfortunately (or fortunately) losing count of the rest of their individual orgasms for the night.