Her furmates could never resist a challenge.
Foxtail knew it with delicious certainty, as certainly as they knew her outside and in; many turns of joinings has taught them every curve and fold, the measure of every touch of skin, the range of tastes of each finger and nipple and lip. They knew where to touch and how and when and how much or, cruelly, how little. And she knew them – to their lengths and breadth, to every little spasm a chance breath could send along Notch’s ribs, every whimper a nibble of the ear could elicit from Rainpace. The knowing was its own reward sometimes, when they knew nothing but summer-fevered or dreamberry-hazed desire. Sometimes, though, even she wanted more.
“I wish you were a little less predictable,” she had breathed as she lay on her back, sweaty and warm inside, and in the mood to tease. Notch’s nose nearly touched hers, and he had raised an eyebrow at her beneath his curtain of dark hair.
“Predictable – me?”
She stuck her tongue out at him, finding her own taste on his lips. “There are things you always do,” she said. “You always arch like so when I mount you, and always run your fingers on my back when you’re trying to egg me on, and always breathe into my neck when you’re about to peak. It’s nice to know I can play you like a good harp, but you and Rainpace both…”
Notch had snorted at that. “If Rainpace was half as creative as me in the furs, you wouldn’t be able to walk, Fox.”
“Oh?” It was her turn to arch a delicate eyebrow, brushing a hand down her stomach, towards her thighs. “When you and Rainpace both take me, I can tell who’s touching me where with my eyes closed.”
“You can’t,” Notch asserted. “I’ll make you a wager on that.”
She giggled. “On your best set of dice. Send for Rainpace.”
She had said it with full confidence, and full confidence remained now that she lay, ready like a flower about to open. Notch was in the adjoining room washing his face in the basin, and she could hear Rainpace climbing – could sense his brush of amused sending. She knew them and every pleasure they could give, and she lay back, a cloth over her eyes, and waited to be given pleasure like a chieftess of the furs, a she-wolf in her den, her suitors about to do battle before her to her satisfaction.
She smelled male excitement and herb-scented water as Notch entered, then Rainpace’s gentler earth-and-wool scent, before someone dropped a handful of flowers about her face so that she smelled only them. The challenge was by feel only, after all. She laughed with a wide mouth, basking, and then the first hand was on her skin.
Predictable – Rainpace began delicately, massaging her breasts, left hand a touch less steady than his right. He leaned close and she could hear the pulse at his neck rise slowly. Notch had never been so subtle, and he was creeping slowly up her legs, licking along their undersides and lingering beneath one knee. A fingernail teased along her nipple, surely Rainpace again, and now he leaned low over her, his chest over her face, and lowered his face till his nose touched her breastbone. His breath was hot, the skin twitched under it, she shifted, breathing the flowers’ scent as Notch’s crawling tongue began on the insides of her thighs.
**Straight for the prize, eh, Notch,** she teased gently, and the moment’s pause told her that she guessed right.
The hands and tongue disappeared then. Foxtail moved uneasily, a little cold. Then a body stretched over hers, belly brushing belly, and further down. Size alone told her that it was Rainpace, copying a favorite move of Notch’s, albeit not as finely. He was a little heavier, more flexible, stroking his thighs and groin against hers, and then another raised her from behind. Her head lulled back, fell in the crook of a shoulder, and Notch nuzzled through the flowers around her neck, teasing the soft place between jawbone and ear. His teeth skimmed her lobe, tugged on an earring, all while Rainpace worked at her with his body alone, his hands bracing him. Between them she was warm, little shivers running down her spine, up her stomach. **Closer, Rainpace,** she demanded, her sending all laughter, putting both hands on his shoulders.
Again, they both disappeared. She fell back, deprived.
She made her dissatisfaction known, a low sound in her throat. “We’re working on it, Foxtail,” Notch promised with his own, shakier laugh. She stretched her arms and legs, and found them both caught.
Oooh – they were trying something different now, cupping her hands and feet, running tongues between her fingers, the same pace, the same order. One mouth was warmer; was it Notch in his enthusiasm or Rainpace with his longer breath? She breathed out – curse them, they must be lock-sending to match their moves, and the tickling of hair on her palms and ankles was driving her mad. Her belly and the hotness under it were twitching with lack of attention, her mouth dry. And then they both began – they were so slow! – to move along her limbs, and briefly she was too distracted to even attempt a guess.
Rougher breathing from the mouth kissing her shoulder – must be Notch, losing himself in the touching too much to be quiet about it. Then someone nipped her inner thigh just at the base of her left leg and her back arched a little, and she forgot all about it. One or the other of them took one nipple in his mouth, another between his fingers. Could be either – but the little breaths that warmed her folds had to be Rainpace, who liked to taste her and tease her all at once. Then a clever tongue slipped in and she forgot again. Whoever it was, she just wanted him to do it some more.
Blood was starting to rush in her ears. They’d teased her and teased her, and now that she was full hot and ready it felt as though they were set on keeping her suspended forever, never letting her peak. They worked on her from end to end, one nuzzling the wet, shuddering place between her legs, tickling her inner thighs, the other twisting and nibbling her nipples till they stood rock-hard, breathing into her neck, and both of them hot and sweet and solid around her. She didn’t know which feeling to focus on first – oh, High Ones, she was so close. Below, someone sighed into her as only one did. “R-Rainp-pace - !”
She guessed. She had finally guessed. And at once they retreated and Foxtail wanted to scream –
And then someone entered her and she knew that she lost the wager. She had no idea which of the two it was; she didn’t care. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer and deeper, melting into the rhythm, demanding, driving him at it, till her anticipation gushed over from tiptoe to ear and she howled as she peaked, seeing mad and colorful stars.
She breathed hard as her body relaxed and her pleasurer rolled off her, retreating. Both Notch and Rainpace were laughing softly. Smug rascals. Foxtail pushed herself up on one elbow as the cloth was removed from her eyes. She squinted at both of them and showed teeth in a grin.
“So which of us was it at the end?” Notch asked with a smirk, quite sure of himself. Both of them were flushed and expectant – whoever it was drove her over had held back from his own peak lest he reveal himself. It was impressive really. They’d done it all on purpose. Foxtail had to rise to the challenge – no mere tumble in the furs would get the better of her.
She sighed happily and stretched her arms and legs. “It was you, Notch.” He gaped at her like a fish; Rainpace doubled over laughing. “As if you’d ever let another get the last word in.”
Rainpace stuffed a helpless hand into his mouth to stifle his giggles. Notch stared in shocked, humiliated defeat. “That’s not by feel!” He complained. “C’mon, you knew by how good I was, didn’t you? Admit it!”
Humming to herself, Foxtail moved across the furs, found Notch’s belt and pried the dice pouch away from it. Now, this was a challenge very, very well won. “Don’t be a sore loser,” she laughed, dangling it in front of him. “Never you mind; if you both just lie back, I’ll make it up to you.”