Chapter 15: Chapter 3 – Part 3

“They didn’t even look twice at us,” Wren said, as she looked back over her shoulder at the lobby.

 

“This won’t even crack the ten craziest things they see this week,” Bonnie said, strutting confidently at the head of their little procession.  The amount of alcohol she’d imbibed was nowhere to be seen in her gait.  “Kathmandu Station has always had a reputation for weekend getaways.  New Vegas with less gravity.”

 

“Every time I go home after coming here,” Quentin said, conspiratorially, “I get a bunch of winks and claps on the back.  They think I spend all my time in a brothel.”

 

“If they only knew,” the redhead said, smirking.  “Here we are.  Room 318.”

 

Wren stepped up and held out her p-comm, and the door unlocked, but Bonnie had ideas other than entering immediately.  She threw Quentin against the wall, snarled, and kissed him possessively.  Wren and Bonnie themselves were of a height, but the boy was shorter, and that made the way Bonnie had to crane down to meet his lips very different.  Wren stared at them out of the corner of her eye, soaking up the sight, before she opened the door and continued into the room.

 

The room itself was barebones.  An ultrasonic shower stall and mirror were only separated from the rest of the room by a half-height wall, and the rest was mostly filled by the bed.  Wren waited in the short hall, behind the door, as the two of them spun and danced around her, and although the door had its own mechanism, she still kept her fingertips on it and guided it closed.

 

Bonnie picked Quentin up and carried him the last few feet in the air, twirling as she went, before setting him down on the edge of the bed.  In his surreal Wren-facade, he was as advertised; cute, bordering on adorable.  Thin features on his narrow face.  A slim waist.  Skin even more pale than her own.  His clothes were slightly more form-fitting than hers, but he pulled it off.  Wren was pretty sure that the blue of his hair was neither natural nor permanent—she’d seen some microfilm coatings like that, that would degrade and flake away in a day or two—but when Bonnie grabbed and tugged, it was breathtaking.  Surreal.

 

He crawled backwards on all fours, closer to the center of the bed, and Bonnie stalked as he moved.  Nearly right on top of him.  She nipped at his lips and licked the tip of his nose, and Quentin shuddered visibly.

 

“You don’t strike me as the take charge type,” Bonnie said, smiling as she ran her hand down between his legs.  He whimpered, back arched, and though he couldn’t seem to make the words come out Bonnie seemed to have her answer anyway.  Her smile grew crooked.  “I don’t mind.”

 

Suddenly, the bag in Wren’s hand felt very heavy, so she set it on the edge of the bed and stepped back.  The redhead had sprinted back to the Daedalus to retrieve it earlier, and was making up for lost time.  Bonnie descended on him, taking his mouth for her own, and he squirmed underneath her.  Grinding against her thigh.  He had gorgeous legs, and the way that he used them to cling to her said he was used to being on his back.

 

Wren watched it all with a blank expression.  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and eventually moved to the one chair in the room.  They disrobed, and Wren said nothing.  They kissed and fondled, and Wren said nothing.  As far as they were concerned, Wren might as well not have existed…

 

...and it was amazing.  She perched on the very edge of the chair, eyes wide.  In the back of her mind, Wren fought off a wriggling worm of discomfort, and tried to enjoy the feast for the eyes as Bonnie slipped on a pair of flesh-tone short shorts.

 

The redhead held her finger against a pad on the side of her hip, and the shorts compressed themselves around her to fit snugly.  It wasn’t until she turned that Wren realized the shorts had a dong attachment fitted to the front of them.

 

“Oh my god,” Quentin said, as he stared down at it.  “It’s huge.”

 

Bonnie turned and stared at Wren, and neither of them said anything for a long moment.  Wren couldn’t be sure, but it looked like it was a bit shy of twenty five centimeters, well short of her own thirty five.  Quentin moved across the bed on his knees, so that his cock was right alongside the very realistic-looking dong, and it outsized him almost by half.  He shuddered as he reached down, put his hands around them, and stroked them together.

 

Bonnie shuddered too.

 

“Does that have a—” Wren started, but Bonnie cut her off.

 

“Yes,” she said, breathily.  “Haptic.  At the base of it.”

 

Quentin blushed, craned his head forward, and spit on them as he continued to stroke them.  Bonnie grabbed a fistful of hair at the nape of his neck and hauled him into another kiss, both of them groaning as their tongues intertwined.

 

As quick as lightning, Bonnie grabbed his hips and spun him around.  The boy clearly had some idea of where this was going because he immediately bent forward onto his hands and knees, bit his lip, and stared back over his shoulder.

 

“Go slow,” he said, almost making a question out of the statement with a slight upturn to his inflection at the end.  “I’ve never been with anyone that big.”

 

Bonnie again turned to stare at Wren, and this time she couldn’t keep the smirk off her lips.  “Don’t worry, 小甜甜.  I’ll be gentle.”  She held out her hand toward Wren, palm up, and waved all four fingers in a ‘gimme’ motion.

 

After a few seconds of searching through the bag, during which Bonnie teased the dong against the boy’s puckered entrance, Wren tossed her a small bottle of lube.  She didn’t realize that she was drooling, ever so slightly, as Bonnie applied the lube liberally.

 

“Now,” the redhead said, “会有点疼.”

 

His eyes squeezed shut when she started to push.

 

“Wow,” Wren mumbled, as she leaned to the side to get a better view.

 

Bonnie bit her lip and repositioned her hands to spread his cheeks more, less for his comfort and more for Wren’s viewing.

 

“You like that?” she asked.

 

“Yeeeah,” Wren said, resting her elbows on her knees.

 

“I’d have thought you’d be more acquainted with the sight,” she said, eyebrow arching fiendishly.

 

“Do yutwo duthisss often?” the boy slurred, the pupils of his eyes nearly disappearing under heavy lids.

 

“Honey,” Bonnie said, “no one in history has ever been in a situation like this.”

 

The redhead’s lean muscle was on display.  She ran her fingers through her wavy locks, which did amazing things to her arms, breasts, and abs.  Each slow push of her hips caused muscles from her middle down to her toes to tighten and swell in turns.

 

It wasn’t until she felt moisture on her calf muscle that Wren realized that her own cock had thickened, and was poking out of her shorts alongside her right thigh.  A bead of precum clung tenaciously to the opening at the tip.  When she made a noise and looked down at it, Bonnie did as well, and the redhead issued a throaty chuckle.

 

“You can play with yourself, yanno,” she said with a laugh. “You should enjoy this.  I mean, look at his face.”

 

Instead, Wren lazily dragged her fingernails around the head, and the little bit behind it.  Her eyelids fluttered, but her eyes stayed focused on the slow penetration.  Bonnie worked her toy in deeper, little by little, and Wren was fascinated.  It seemed like the redhead was using the hisses and ah’s that she drew out of the boy as stop and go indicators, and the experimentally of it appealed to Wren on such a nerdy level that she couldn’t stop herself from giggling.

 

“What are you laughing at?” Bonnie asked, with a throaty chuckle of her own.

 

“Nothing,” Wren said, smiling.  She absently started using the pads of her fingers to stroke, rather than the tips of her nails.  “It’s just been a while since I paid this much attention, and… it’s funny what you notice when you have the time to think.”

 

“Anything… you want to… share... with the class?” Bonnie asked, in between halting grunts.  The motion of her hips was mesmerizing, and watching the boy’s ring stretch and clench was truly incredible.  Every time she pulled out, the ring got a little bit more pink.

 

“I mean,” she said, absently, as she stared on in awe, “I… I do have something I want to share.”

 

Bonnie gave the boy’s bubbly backside a loud, sudden spank, and Wren’s focus sharpened to razor point.  The boy mewled fantastically.  Just like that, she had her hand cupped to stroke the shaft through her shorts.

 

“Wow,” Bonnie whispered, as she stared down at Wren’s leg, and there was a sharp uptick in speed.  Thrusting rapidly.  Dull, thudding smacks.  

 

“What… are… you… two… huh… I…”

 

Bonnie slowed for a moment, as she curled over him, and reached up to grab Quentin’s arms.  He gave over immediately, shoulders slung back, as Bonnie used her grip on his wrists to launch herself into him with even greater ferocity.  The boy squealed, teeth clenched, as his semi-flaccid cock flung precum in every direction.  It looked like he was spring loaded, bouncing off of her amazingly, and the way Bonnie’s arms flexed to hold that position was absolutely incredible.  Wren wanted nothing more than to crawl across the bed and lick her arm, which of course was absolutely not something she could do.

 

She wanted to, though.

 

“How do you feel about oral?” Bonnie asked, as she slowed.  Her body moved like a wave, a sinuous flexing from the shoulders to the thighs, and the boy seemed relieved to have his arms underneath him for support again.

 

“I mean, if you can clean it first, I don’t m—”

 

“Not mine,” the redhead purred.  “Hers.”

 

Quentin turned to Wren for the first time since he’d entered the room, and stared at her blankly for a minute.  His eyes followed her arm down, and they bulged as he watched her stroking herself.  “Oh my god.”

 

Bonnie curled over him again, one hand wrapped around his stomach while the other hand planted over his on the bed, and she whispered in his ear, “Yeah, you might know a few things about her, but that part’s definitely not common knowledge.”

 

Wren slouched in the chair, and slid her hand into the back pocket of her pants, but Bonnie shook her head.

 

“No,” the redhead said.  “Not yet.”

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“But—”

 

“Just come up here on the bed,” she said, using her forehead to point.  “Lie back and relax.  For me.”

 

Wren hesitantly stood, and moved to settle on the bed.

 

“Shorts off, silly,” Bonnie said, laughing.

 

Wren did, slowly, and it struck her that she was very anxious and didn’t know why.  Wren had often simply whipped out her cock, in one way or another, as a precursor to letting her prospective conquests know that she was in the mood.  Also, if she was being honest, she did it for the reaction.  In hindsight she almost couldn’t believe that was her go-to move—so cliche—but she’d never been attempting to woo the one.  Once she’d taken up asteroid hauling she’d stopped being with anyone for a repeat performance until Bonnie, and since then she’d been trying to cut to the chase to avoid some unpleasant truths.

 

Now, with the redhead taking up a portion of her thoughts every day, it was hard to go back to seeing everyone as a potential lover the way she had.  Once upon a time she would have claimed a lover for herself and happily ruined them for anyone else who might have come after, but at that moment all she wanted to do was take the pill so she could stop thinking about it.

 

Taking the pill would make it all easier.

 

Fortunately for Wren, Quentin seemed to know exactly what to do.  He leaned down, so that his left shoulder was butted up behind Wren’s knee, laid his head on her thigh, and brought her partially thickened shaft to his lips.  Behind him, staring down as she thrust, Bonnie was absolutely enthralled, and that was something Wren could latch onto.  She didn’t know how he had known to do that at an angle where Bonnie could watch from behind, but she was grateful all the same.

 

The boy bathed the head, taking its spongy mass into his mouth and lavishing it with the attention of his tongue.  His right hand, the one not trapped beneath him, reached up to grab the shaft.  Wren had seen that move before, where others would grab about where they thought they could handle in their mouths, but she’d never been one to try and cram it down anyone’s throat anyway.  That wasn’t her style, but the grabbing did help; pressure there pushed the blood elsewhere.  She did the same, bringing her hand down more toward the middle of the shaft, and gave it a tight grip.  The head flared in size inside the boy’s mouth, and she groaned happily.

 

Wren sometimes played with herself while flaccid, or semi-flaccid.  Not seriously or with intent but absentmindedly while waiting for a DBX queue to pop, and she had to admit that the feeling of a mouth was nice.  She had to be careful not to let herself try oral if she took a pill, because then she really might start trying to stretch some throats.

 

“肏,” Bonnie rasped, “that’s fucking hot.”

 

Quentin had his eyes closed, as he nursed on her cockhead, and she felt the vibrations of his subtle moans more than she heard them, but no amount of his being adorable and cute could stop Wren from noticing every little thing Bonnie did.  She watched the swells in Bonnie’s breathing, and what that did to the redhead’s shoulders.  She watched the way Bonnie kept adjusting her grip, and what that did to the redhead’s tattooed arms.  Mostly, though, she watched the way Bonnie was completely absorbed in the watching.

 

So, she thought.  Bonnie likes to watch.

 

Wren slowly shifted her hips, pulling back, and Quentin gave the tip of her head a parting kiss as she moved out from under him.  Her shorts were on the ground, just beside the bed, and she felt him caressing her thigh as she leaned over the side looking for the secret pocket.

 

 "Ooh,” Bonnie purred, as she continued to thrust, “I'm not sure he's ready, Wren.”

 

“Ready for what?” he asked, slurring his words.

 

“Don’t care,” Wren said, throwing her head back to aid in swallowing the pills.  She blinked at the ceiling and exhaled, slowly, as the wave of pinpricks washed over her skin.  Then she quickly grabbed her p-comm, grateful she hadn’t forgotten, and set a timer.

 

“Ready for what?” he repeated, this time with a bit more coherence.

 

“Oh, well, she took them anyway.”  Bonnie leaned over him again and kissed his shoulder.  “I guess this is as ready as you're gonna get."

 

The lights in the room seemed to get brighter, the colors sharper, very quickly.  Wren turned around and licked her lips.  Right on cue Bonnie both backed up and handed her a small bottle of water, which Wren promptly tipped up and drank heavily from.  The boy just stared, neck shrinking into his shoulders.

 

"It's okay sweetie,” Bonnie crooned, “I wasn't ready the first time either."

 

In its reduced capacity, Wren’s brain could not fathom the near mirror-image in front of it.  It wasn’t as if she simply forgot their flirtatious exchanges at the bar, and she knew how they’d gotten there, but the beauty on all fours on the bed was processed in isolation.  Without context.  It was her, or near enough to her to fool her hunger.

 

“I’m hot,” Wren murmured, as she stared.

 

“Goddamn right you are,” Bonnie added, as she slid around behind Wren and gave her a slight push.

 

Wren barely heard her, processing the sound like something akin to the devil on her shoulder.

 

The boy turned away, offering himself to her while staring over his shoulder nervously.  Wren could feel the muscles beneath the skin, up and down the length of her body, engorging and swelling, and her heart was doing triple time to ramp up the pressure.  She would never have Bonnie’s tone, but in short bursts she could come pretty close in raw strength.  Just as she closed on him, and just as she laid hands on him, it pinged in the deep recesses of her conscious brain that someone was watching, and wanted to watch, and so Wren took an extra step she rarely took.  She took off her shirt.

 

“It’s throbbing,” the boy said.  She couldn’t remember his name.

 

Bonnie said something behind her, but Wren barely heard it.  The boy’s glistening pucker was gaped a little, enough to slide a finger in without touching the sides, and that was more than enough to start.  She grabbed herself around the middle and guided her slightly-drooped head in.  The shaft would continue to fill in and thicken over the next ten minutes or so, but she was already hard enough to start.

 

She really, really wanted to start.

 

She grabbed him forcefully, pulling him back onto her more than she thrust forward.  The head and a bit more disappeared inside of him, and the boy howled.  She watched his pained expression, and in a burst of inspiration she took her hands off of him.  She simply set herself, locking her knees and thighs, and let him do the work.

 

The boy did not disappoint, rocking forward and backwards all on his own.  Wren bit her lip absently, and played with her nipples.  In that state, even hardened as they were, her nipples did not contribute much to the fire, but Bonnie lurked in the corners of her vision.  For as long as Wren could keep her mind on it, she would put on a show.

 

With him doing the work Wren took the time to appreciate the way his balls swayed between his legs, and the lovely pink handprint on his ass where Bonnie had spanked him.  The way he winced whenever he tried to go deeper.  The way he winced whenever Wren felt herself filling out just that little bit more.

 

She never got much thicker, not in the same way that she extended, but her skin still ached when she hit that moment of delirious overfilling, like she was going to burst, and she could deny herself no longer.

 

The boy had only managed to take about half of her to that point.  She grunted under her breath as she grabbed him, and pushed further.  Somehow, there was even less of her present than usual.  All she could focus on was mate, thrust, and grab.  The boy came for the first time, but she didn’t even slow down.  His cries barely registered.  Her own pulse was so much louder in her ears than anything else.  Pounding.

 

It was his palm on her middle, as he reached back to hold her off, that finally got her attention.  That tiny, distant-yet-insistant part of her brain was screaming that she had pushed him too far.  Overstimulated, she thought, dully.  That’s the word.

 

She blinked, panting, and tried to think through the drug-induced haze, but her body would not be denied so easily.  In a fit of inspiration, Wren turned slightly and looked over her shoulder.  It had at least been part of the plan to put on a show for Bonnie, but the sight of the redhead, slouched low in an armchair and fingering herself, put any high-minded efforts of sparing the boy out of her head entirely.  She backed up, on her knees, until her cock pulled out of the boy with a wet schlup, and pointed to the bed.

 

Bonnie huffed playfully before crawling onto the mattress, making each motion languid and purposeful.  Wren’s quick, shallow breath got even faster as Bonnie moved onto all fours right next to the boy, with her ass up in the air just like his, and the pair of them together like that wiped out every remaining thought she had.  She fell upon the redhead like a starving carnivore on its prey, impaling her completely in one go.

 

Bonnie, who had been on all fours, collapsed forward onto her shoulders at the sudden intrusion.  She let out a loud grunt, lids heavy over her eyes, and tried to push herself back up onto all fours, but Wren leaned over her and planted a hand directly on the side of her head, pinning her down.  A handspan away, the boy looked on in unabashed awe.

 

Wren had never met anyone who could handle everything she dished out.  Even in that primal, animal brain state, she knew that most of her lovers could only handle so much; not so with Bonnie.  She was a different kind of strong.  The redhead glared back at her out of the corner of her eye, daring Wren to do more, and so Wren did.  Wren gave her everything.  The cocktail of selective vasodilators, nitric oxide, and erythropoietin was coursing through her veins, enriching her muscles with as much oxygen as they could handle, and her body responded with a ridiculous level of temporary strength.  Her thrusts came hard and fast, like a meaty jackhammer.

 

Bonnie let out a mewling cry, clenching tightly around Wren’s fully-engorged shaft, and just as the redhead began to melt down into the bed Wren noticed that the boy was biting his lip as he looked back at her.  And that he was wiggling his ass at her.  And that his gape had not receded.  There was very little of her that was not incredibly pleased that he had recovered just in time, and in mere seconds she had nearly buried herself inside him. 

 

It felt good to wear him.  Like clothes, but… flesh.

 

Later, in her memories, there were only glimpses of looking down at Bonnie’s backside as she railed the redhead, with ferocious abandon, interspersed with glimpses of bearing down on the boy no less animalistically as she alternated between them.  She remembered making the boy cum three more times around making Bonnie cum twice before the timer on her p-comm went off.

 

The third pill was fast acting, even more so than the other two, sending a cold wave through her as soon as it touched her tongue.  She managed to swallow it, unaided, but as soon as it was down she started looking for water.  There was a sink in the half-bath, and she drunkenly clawed her way across the room to stick her head under it.  It tasted sweet, which was not so much a comment on its specific taste so much as how her brain was interpreting her body's need for it.  

 

The boy, whose name she was pretty sure was Quentin now that she could think again, was lying on his side with a dim, pleased look on his face.  An exhausted, thoroughly fucked kind of pleased, which Wren noted as much as she could in her dwindling state.  Her body always wanted to hibernate after taking the third pill.  Muscles like lead.

 

Quentin’s slack, drooling glee was nothing compared to the lazy smirk on Bonnie’s face, though, and that drew Wren short.  She moved to lay down on the bed, and as soon as she did the redhead slid down next to her.  Alongside her.

 

“You didn’t cum,” she whispered, tapping the tip of Wren’s nose with her index finger.  “Lots of precum, sure, but…”

 

The blue-haired girl shook her head, and tried to say mm-mmm as a proxy for ‘no’, but her throat was still parched and it came out as more of a grunt.

 

“Usually, at this point, I’m pretty spent too, but I’m still kind of embarrassed I didn’t notice it before.”

 

“Can’t,” Wren croaked.  “Later.”

 

“Yes,” Bonnie said, as she kissed Wren’s forehead.  “Later.”

 

Then, after the room became intolerably dark but before she drifted off to sleep, Wren had a thought.

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