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It’s the dead of night, and you’re jarred awake from a sound sleep by a frantic knocking on your door. The film of sleep still clouds your mind, so you take a few moments to get your bearings—no, your alarm isn’t going off; no it’s not the dark of 6am, but much earlier—and during that time another machine gun series of knocks tap at your door.
“Sister!” comes a stage whisper through your door.
You press the heels of your palms into your eyes as you clear your throat.
“Uh, yes. Come in,” you croak out in a voice still heavy with sleep.
The door bangs open, and you squint at the bright of torchlight (despite the Abbey having actual flashlights and nearly all the members owning smartphones, many still prefer this archaic form of illumination). The fellow Sister who hurries frantically into your room is one who you at least know, even if she isn’t one of your friends.
“What-wha—?” Is all you manage as you blink rapidly at her.
“Come on,” she hisses as she grabs your arm and practically drags you out of your bed.
You barely have time to slide your feet into your slippers before she’s ushering you down the stones halls of the Abbey. You can hear the howls of the Ghouls echoing off the high ceilings, and your torch isn’t the only burst of light you can see across the quad.
By the time you’re awake enough to formulate questions, you’re already in the Ghoul dorms—and then you’re too distracted by the caterwauling.
Two Brothers stand bracing a familiar door.
“Thank Lucifer,” says one. The other grabs the handle. “Ready?”
He’s not talking to you.
They open the door just enough that as you’re peering inside to the pitch darkness, your fellow Sister gives you a hard shove, and you stumble through the person-sized crack.
The door slams hard behind you, and you can hear the lock click.
Two sets of glowing eyes and the faint outlines of sharp-toothed smiles are all you can see as your own eyes adjust.
“I hope you didn't like that nightgown, dearie.”
And by now you’re fully aware of what exactly is going on.
It’s that time again: the Ghouls are in heat—all the Ghouls—and the whole Abbey is in a state of damage control. Siblings are probably being pulled left and right to assist with their…needs. When all the Ghouls are down, there just aren’t enough of them to go around during the particularly bad parts, so the powers that be enlist willing Siblings—especially ones who frequently dally with the hellbeasts—with little to no notice.
You’ll never understand why sometimes the whole Ghoul dorms go down at the same time like a bad outbreak and other times it seems contained within their pods, but there you go.
Honestly, as a favorite playmate of Cumulus and Cirrus, you should have expected this. You’ve never shared their heat before, but the three of you had talked about it, and you’d agreed.
You just weren’t expecting a furtive flight through the Abbey in the dead of night.
There’s a tug on your nightgown from one side, and then a yank from the other. A matching set of fangs scrape deliciously down each shoulder as you hear the riiiip of the material, then feel the ruined polyester slide off your skin.
You're bare except for your cotton panties, so you feel the heated flesh of Cirrus and Cumulus pressing into you. You’re still half light-blind, but you’re familiar enough with how they feel to know that it’s Cumulus—with her soft curves—flush with your front, her hand traveling over your body as her tail curls around your calf. The taller form of Cirrus clings to your back—her breasts pressing into your back and her tail winding around your waist—as her clawed fingers grip into your arms so she can nip and suck at your neck.
Moaning, you melt into their holds, leaning your head back onto Cirrus’ shoulder to give her better access.
“Smells good,” she rumbles lowly.
You’re not sure if she means your natural musk, which the two of them like—or your arousal, which they love.
“Very good,” agrees Cumulus as she rubs her nose across the line of your neck.
You lose yourself into the height of their stratosphere as you revel in the way being in between them really does feel like being embraced by clouds (albeit one that could turn into a menacing thunderstorm at any provocation). Your hands have slid from Cumulus’s love handles down to caress the smoothness of her ass while she growls into your skin with intent; hers have been languorously massaging your breasts while thumbing your nipples, and each time the pads skim across, the sensation shoots right between your legs.
High on your burgeoning arousal, you’re desperate for more contact with your lovers—to hear them…to feel them; you let your hands follow the curve of Cumulus’s ass down until your fingers can lightly trace the crease where it meets her thighs, dangerously close to where you could cause a downpour.
She snarls—a sound Cirrus echos—and her hand claws down your stomach; when it encounters your panties, she makes a noise of disgust, and—oops!—there they go as well.
The tips of her claws trace carefully, carefully, along the lines of your labia, and you gasp, leaning further back into Cirrus’s solid form. She turns her head to lick the shell of your ear and suck on your earlobe as her arms come round to hold you in her embrace, and you gasp as the electric shock of it sets your skin to tingle.
As the spades of their tails join in on the tease between your legs, you can feel her grind against your ass in slow circles, her curls a pleasing scrape across your skin. When you turn your head to suck on her neck, you inhale the sharp, icy crisp of her arousal. Darting your tongue out, you lick a line across her collarbone.
“Mmm…” she purrs as she rocks into you harder, leaving a hot, slick trail across your skin. It cools when the air hits it, and the storm of your hunger burns to feel the wet heat of her desire slippery on your fingers.
When her hands come up to massage your breasts, you detach a hand from her partner so you can grope behind you for that touch you so crave. She shifts to give you access, letting out a pleased rumble when your finger slips into her sticky folds to rub gentles circles around her clit.
Yours gives an answering throb, and Cumulus whines, so you maneuver your other hand to press into her pulsing need as well. The static shock of her arousal soon wafts around you, and some part of you is pleased that soon you’ll smell of their combined tempest.
They rock into your touch as the gentle fondle of their hands in the swells of your flesh become firmer gropes and the teasing scrape of their fangs become stinging lines. Cumulus dips a finger into your slit, and you moan loudly, knees practically buckling as her finger finally slip-slides over your throbbing clit, and your arms flop ineffectually into your sides.
You buck and twitch against them as their hands, fingers, and tails trace and tease at you.
Cumulus backs away, and there’s a sucking sound as she slides her finger into her mouth before she gives a happy chitter.
“You’ll share that taste!” breathes out Cirrus, and then her heat leaves your back as she engages in a sloppy kiss with Cumulus. They’re much more rough with each other than they are with you, and their claws rend against each other’s skin and their teeth bite into lips.
On wobbly legs, you make your way over to where they’ve ended up by their bed.
You massage your clit a little with your thumb as you watch them—just enough to keep the ember of your arousal stoked—and then you swipe your thumb over Cirrus’s bottom lip before pushing it into her mouth. Her tongue swirls around you before you feel the sharp scrape of her fang.
“You can taste me right from the source, my sweet.”
This sends them both into a frenzied hurricane of movement, and suddenly, hands and tails are everywhere on you, pulling you this way and that as fingers and claws dig into your flesh. One and then both of them kiss you in a smear of lips and spit, and then you find yourself on their bed, entwined in their arms.
A tail slides over your ass, and you gasp as the pressure of it slowly works its way inside you. Your hand works its way down a plump, quivering thigh and into the smooth slick of Cumulus’s cunt. She gives a low moan before her fangs prick into your shoulder. Cirrus’s tongue is there to lap at the puncture as you swirl your fingers through Cumulus’s wetness and around her hardening clit, and you swear you can almost taste her this way.
A tail (Cirrus’s, you determine when it’s she who moans) bushes your cheek, and you turn your head to suck it into your mouth. Knowing how sensitive their tails are in this heightened state, you remove yourself from between Cumulus’s legs and run your slick-coated fingers up and down Cirrus’s tail. She gasps and twitches into you as Cumulus whines in protest.
She jostles Cirrus out of the way and flattens you on your back. The room is still dark, but by now you can make the both of them out, despite the charcoal of their skin. When Cumulus straddles you, she’s fierce and lovely—all curves and power. Her tail coils possessively around your neck as she slides up your body, purposely leaving a sticky trail on your stomach, and you get the memo: you’re mine.
You lightly scrape your blunt nails up and down her thighs as she lifts enough to allow your mouth the treat it so richly deserves. She rumbles low in her chest as your tongue wiggles in between her lips to get to the crown jewel, her taste saturating your mouth. Your fingers did their job expertly, and when the tip of your tongue swirls slowly around her clit, she’s already jolting and snarling in time to each undulation.
There’s another weight on you, and when you open your eyes, you see Cirrus’s hands on her lover’s tits, the two of them once more engaged in a tangle of tongues. You raise your knees so that she has something to lean back against, and she uses your legs as leverage to grind into you, her slick mingling with Cumulus’s…you’re ours.
Above you, Cumulus writhes and moans—her stomach clenching like a belly dancer’s—as your tongue taps at her nub, then flicks it back and forth. She’s riding your mouth as you continue to rake your nails up and down her thighs, and you’re aware of it when she reaches a hand behind her to slip into Cirrus’s folds.
The two of them are rumbling and snarling on top of you—their tails lashing wildly about now—as Cumulus uses your mouth and Cirrus uses her mate’s fingers. You squeeze your thighs together to get some pressure, and soon the entire room smells like the combined musk of the 3 of you. They’re huffing it in, both now gasping and moaning as they hurtle toward their respective climaxes.
Cirrus is mumbling something too low for you to hear, but you realize she’s giving Cumulus direction on how to bring her to that high. She’s still riding your mouth, but her head now rests on Cirrus’s shoulder as her clever fingers massage her clit to bursting.
Tongue still lapping at Cumulus’s clit—her legs trembling around you—you watch as Cirrus’s claws dig divots deeper and deeper into her arms and feel the grind of her into your stomach, as she rises closer, closer…
…until she mashes hard into you with a breathy Oh! and yanks Cumulus by her hair into a hard kiss that you can feel in your core. Your mouth fills with saliva just as Cumulus softens—the tang of her turning sweeter—and you speed your tongue to flickflickflickflick at her.
She goes rigid right before bucking her hips, and she makes a high noise that is swallowed by Cirrus’s mouth. You follow her the best you can while petting softly at her skin. Cirrus’s hands have come back around to tweak at her nipples, and she jerks over you like a summer squall as you massage her through her spasms.
When she’s done, she slumps back into Cirrus’s hold, and the two of them chitter at each other as their tails rub and entwine. You stretch one hand to trail a finger across Cirrus’s knee, and almost simultaneously, the two of them snap their eyes open to look down at you. While they’ve lost some of their ferocity, they’re still at the height of their fervor, and they can no doubt smell that you’re primed and ready to go.
Like the roll of a distant storm, both of them slink gracefully off you, but Cirrus rolls between your legs. She laps at the wetness coating your stomach before wiggling up to suck your nipples into her mouth. You moan, shooting your hands out to grab onto any flesh they can find.
“Let’s make her scream!” says Cumulus brightly.
“Let’s make her howl,” counters Cirrus with a wicked smile. Her tongue traces up to your collarbone, and her fangs map out the line of it in little nibbles as Cumulus settles in behind you to explore the dips and valleys of your body with her fingers. When Cirrus reaches your mouth, she gives a few laps across your lips.
“Taste like mate,” she says huskily before engaging you in a greedy kiss and turning you both onto your sides.
You’re sandwiched in between them, their breasts and bellies a soft press into your sensitive skin. Cirrus’s strong, pianist’s fingers expertly slide, tap, and circle your engorged clit as Cumulus slips two into your slick entrance from behind. Your head rolls around your neck as you rock back and forth on their fingers. You’re too lost in the sensations to effectively kiss either of them, but the hot press of their mouths burn a line across your breasts and up your neck. Their tongues caress yours before meeting over you in a wet suck of lips…before traveling back down to lather, rinse, repeat.
All you know is the bliss of their touches and the growing intensity between your legs. You’re letting out little wails of exquisite distress that the two of them are eating up hungrily, like you’re a meal that can sustain them.
You’re high from panting and breathless kisses, and when you finally reach that sweet crest, it’s like a lightning strike of intense pleasure, and your vision blacks out in a swirl of deep colors. You jerk and thrash as each wave racks your body, but you’re cushioned on each side by their supple bodies.
When they withdraw their hands from you, you barely notice it; you’re content to drift on the soft, filmy haze of your orgasm like a leaf in a gust of wind as they hold you firm in their embrace.
Cirrus rearranges your head into her lap while Cumulus continues to trace every curve of your body with her tail and fingers like a gentle breeze on a hot day. You make nonsense patterns into Cirrus’s thigh with your finger while she cards her hands through your hair.
It’s the eye of the tornado before Cumulus’s touch turns lustful again. The soft tease of fingers becomes a stinging scrape of claws, and the light caress of her tail travels from your thighs back in between your legs.
Her spade is flicking over your sensitive and still pulsing nub, and you let out a small Oh with every pass as you twitch from the contact. Her fingers reach for your pebbled nipples, but Cirrus suddenly slaps them away.
“Stop toying with her!”
“But prey is for playing with!”
They snap at each other, growling in great thunderclaps of sound. There’s more jostling, and just like that, the two of them are rolling around on the bed like two gale force winds swirling in gusts for dominance.
You stretch.
It’s going to be a long night.