What would some highlights of a Les Amis orgy include? (Doesnāt have to be the whole orgy, although of course I would never say no to that!)
(Also included Marius, Cosette, and some of the othersā hope you donāt mind!)
Thereās a party at Prouvaireās place tonight, and itās clothing-optional.
The gang has been planning this out for a while, one great fling designed by a plethora of bisexual bachelors (and a few non-bachelors).
Prouvaireās place was selected for its grandeur, a two-story paradise in the countryside with a private garden, left behind by his constantly-travelling, grossly wealthy parents.
The host adorns himself in form-fitting silk, with a delicate, translucent robe draped over his jet-black garter belt and matching laced briefs.
The guest bedrooms are cleaned to perfection, bedsheets settled without a crease; the master bedroom is reserved.
Prouvaireās collection of sex toys, usually kept locked in an embellished glass case, is laid out strategically throughout the house, with lube, condoms, and basic cleaning supplies always nearby.
A generous walk-in closet is swiftly converted into a dungeon, where some of Prouvaireās more adventurous tools are put on display.
The dining room table has been converted into a snack bar, and the radio in the living room is tuned into subtle, orchestral jazz.
Everything is ready for the guests to arrive.
And they do, one by oneā or rather, in their own small groups.
Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta are early arrivals, planning out a bit of foreplay with one another before they go on their independent explorations.
Next are Bahorel and Feuilly, the latter with a collar and muzzle, the former holding onto his leashā clearly, these friends-with-benefits know a thing or two about this sort of occasion.
Grantaire comes in with a pack of beers under his armĀ ājust in case,ā and Ćponine shuffles in behind him, hoping for a good night that will let her forget about, well, most things going on in her life.
Of course, Ćponine should have suspected that Marius and Cosette would be invited; the newlyweds are the next ones to step into the house, earnest in their inexperience.
Finally, the golden trio arrives, fashionably late; Courfeyrac is the first of the three to come in, followed by Combeferre, who brought his own implements of pain for the nearest willing sub, and finally Enjolras, who doesnāt understand why he agreed to attend an orgy.
Now, there is something of note which Prouvaire neglected to tell the others regarding the countryside house.
Though it is Prouvaire family property, the house is typically only used during one month of the year: October.
As a haunted house attraction.
The fake blood on the walls should have tipped them off.
Now, given the number of participants in this orgy and their prolific exploration during this time, it would be overwhelming and unnecessary to detail the party in full.
Instead, a selective narrative has been chosen, beginning with the first act of the night.
It should come as no surprise that the initiator of the festivities is Courfeyrac, the most flirtatious of their group.
The target of his affections is Musichetta, who has made it her mission to see how many cocks she get inside of her throughout the party.
This makes it easy for Courfeyrac to coax her away from her boys, having just finished making out with Bossuet, feeling Jolyās hand at her waist slide away as Courfeyrac approaches them.
They try a little bit of sexy talk, but they know each other too well not to end up stupidly chuckling at their attempts to woo one another.
Musichetta is the one who finally takes his hand and leads him upstairs, to one of the guest bedrooms.
Firmly ignoring the pictures on the wall that change depending on the angle theyāre viewed from, and the dim lanterns hanging from the ceiling.
When theyāve reached the room, she locks the door behind them and pulls Courfeyrac into a harsh kiss.
Courfeyrac hums, pressing his palms into Musichettaās hips, letting her nails claw at his bare shoulders.
He has an idea to really get the party going, by giving the others an idea of what theyāre missing out on.
Musichetta catches on quickly, and she moans into the kiss, loudly enough to hopefully be heard all the way downstairs.
They make a game of seeing who can make the most obnoxious noises, and eventually they forget completely about the people downstairs, engrossed in their competition.
When Musichetta tugs on Courfeyracās hair, he shuts his eyes tight and forces out a breathless groan.
When Courfeyracās hand finds its way to her breast, circling the nipple with his thumb, she huffs out a series of open-mouthed whimpers.
Sometimes, a laugh or two gets mixed in, until Courfeyrac and Musichetta are clumsily giggling their way over to the bed.
Courfeyrac opens the window, and Musichetta stops for a second, raising an eyebrow.
He needs the fresh air, he says; besides, theyāre so far out in the country that it isnāt like anyone outside of the house can hear them.
That is, aside from anyone who happens to be in the private garden.
At the moment, that would be Marius and Cosette, who have decided to explore the place thoroughly and get more comfortable with it.
That said, Marius is only getting more uncomfortable with each passing moment, as his leg occasionally catches a fake cobweb or brushes against a vaguely sinister bush.
So when he hears a scream from the upstairs windowā one of exaggerated pleasure, not that he would knowā he takes it as an opportunity to hurry back inside.
Cosette doesnāt follow him.
Instead, she presses onward, until she sees a humanoid shape draped across a park bench.
Itās Ćponine, with a lukewarm beer in her hand; she knows better than to get drunk at an orgy, but one little drink might help her get through this without going insane.
When she spots Cosette, she takes a long swig.
Cosetteās naked form in the moonlight is just as delicate and gingerly curved as Ćponine had imagined in her many fantasies: long, taunting fabrications of sex scenes between Cosette and the object of Ćponineās affections.
In fact, Ćponine has thought about Cosetteās body too many times to count, maybe even more than she has thought about Mariusā
Oh. Maybe sheās a bit fond.
When Cosette begins to flirt with her, sheās in such a state of shock that her legs separate themselves without her meaning to part them, and suddenly the heat in her throat that had caused her so much resentment has sunk down to her abdomen.
Cosette offers to do her a favor, and Ćponine doesnāt have enough dignity left to refuse.
And Cosette grew up at an all-girlsā Catholic school, so of course she knows her way around a pussy, with her lips, her fingers, her tongue.
Every point of connection between their bodies sparks with heat, jolting through Ćponine like electricity when an index finger traces the outer curve of her breast, or when sweet, sheltered Cosetteās pink tongue strokes her aching clit.
One hand grasps at Cosetteās hair, soft and thick, and the other curls into a fake cobweb, which Ćponine hardly notices.
And she laments that she now has two unobtainable objects of desire, who have found each other and left her to her own devices.
But in this moment, she breathes in Cosetteās perfume, and she exhales on a deep moan.
Joly are Bossuet arenāt quite ready to separate from one another just yet.
This is obvious from how theyāve been entangled with each other since Musichetta left, Joly practically straddling Bossuet on the couch.
Prouvaireā who is not participating in any of tonightās action, because he is the host and has taken it upon himself to make sure things are going smoothlyā nudges them with a gentle reminder that they should find a room if they plan on going any further.
The two are left with a dilemma: theyād very much like to go further, but theyāre here to experience new avenues of sexual exploration, not to merely play around with someone whoās already their partner.
Thatās when Joly makes eye contact with Combeferre from across the room, and an unspoken agreement is made.
Combeferre goes to the walk-in-closet-slash-dungeon.
Joly continues to tease Bossuet for a few minutes, staying just light enough to keep Prouvaire from having to give them another reminder, although his wary gaze occasionally wanders over to them.
Eventually, Joly guides Bossuet through the living room, past the hallway, and then into the dungeon.
Itās unnervingly fitting that this is the butcher-themed room of the haunted house, with its fake-blood-splattered wallpaper and gray metal table placed ominously in the center.
Tonight is not the night for murder, but pain is fair game.
Bossuet knows immediately what his place in this arrangement is; in fact, he goes straight for the table.
The chains in the corners of the table, as it turns out, are very real, and Prouvaire has no problem with letting his guests use them as they wish.
Combeferre binds his patientās wrists and ankles to the table before snapping his fingers, at which Nurse Joly brings him his first tool.
Combeferre asks if the patient is properly āwarmed up,ā and while Bossuet sends a knowing wink Jolyās way to let him know that heās more than ready, Joly replies that he hasnāt been properly warmed up for internal examination.
Combeferre has Joly prepare the patient with a gloved hand and heating lube, finding little resistance as he slides his first finger inside.
That is, until Combeferre begins to roll the toolā a small Wartenberg wheelā oh-so-lightly along Bossuetās skin, and he clenches tightly at its bite.
Bossuet hasnāt mixed pain with pleasure in so long, and his nerves seem confused until the comfort of warm fingers probing him and Combeferreās confident, commanding voice sink him into a long-forgotten subspace.
The doctor and nurse take their time to examine him, using all of their instruments as slowly as needed to make careful, precise movements.
The nurse inserts increasingly large implements into Bossuet, gradually opening him all the way up.
Occasionally pressing a tender kiss to his thigh that contrasts with the doctorās firm, prodding hands on his stomach, his chest, his throat.
Until Combeferre decides to steal that tenderness for himself, catching Joly in a deep, fervent kiss while their neglected patient whimpers around the thick, rock-hard dildo thatās jammed deep inside of him.
Marius thought that attending an orgy sounded like wholesome fun at first, but the houseās atmosphere and the sudden realization that he might have sex with someone other than his wife have completely fried his nerves.
He has fled into the upstairs bathroom, taking a vibrator wand with him in hopes that any passers-by will think heās just going to clean some toys.
He hums quietly, trying to force himself into calmness, washing the unused vibrator (under ice-cold water, without taking the batteries out, because he doesnāt know any better).
He hears someone clear their throat, and he practically jumps.
Itās just Enjolras, holding a very floppy, neon violet dildo with a very serious expression.
Marius murmurs an apology and says that heāll be out of his way soon, as he assumes Enjolras came to the bathroom to clean the toy.
Enjolras shakes his head and pushes past him, however, setting the dildo down before taking a deep breath.
As it turns out, Enjolras hasnāt done any playing with the other guests either, and he still wonders why he came to an orgy in the first place; he just came up to the bathroom to steel himself.
Marius, cracking a sheepish smile, admits that heās in the same boat.
While he knows heās bisexual, he has never so much as kissed another man, and the idea of having sex with another man intimidates him.
He assumes it will be rough, fast, maybe even painful, nothing like making love.
Enjolras looks at him in disdainā his usual response to Mariusās behaviorā and Marius quickly looks away, hunching his shoulders as he turns his attention back to the vibrator.
Then he feels Enjolrasās hand on the small of his back, and he looks up just in time for Enjolrasās lips to meet his, soft and warm.
The kiss is brief, and Marius pulls back from it quickly.
Enjolrasās eyes meet his, dire in spite of his tender behavior, and he asks Marius if he really thinks that other men have no concept of foreplay, or gentle sex.
Marius tries to stammer out an answer, but he eventually finds it more agreeable to kiss Enjolras instead.
A series of light, short kisses ensues, which meld together until their lips linger against each other, mouths timidly opening, tongues finding one another without haste.
Enjolras grabs the vibrator out of Mariusās hand and turns Marius around, pressing the wand to his shoulders, kneading into his muscles on a low setting.
And Marius simply wants to melt, feeling his tension slip away under the wand, relaxing muscle by muscle until all he feels is longing on his lips for another kiss.
But when he turns back around to kiss Enjolras, Enjolras turns away, stepping out of the bathroom.
Just before he leaves completely, he tells Marius to enjoy himself tonight.
Marius tries to speak, but falters.
Grantaire is in one of the guest rooms.
He has had a bit to drink, but not much, because heās not an idiot; he knows Prouvaire wonāt let him participate if heās too tipsy.
But the others are all occupied at the moment, it seems, so heās by his lonesome until someone wanders by.
In the meantime, he strokes himself, taking full advantage of his time alone in order to get himself nice and ready for the next encounter.
Two someones wander by at once, one on his hands and knees, the other pulling him along by a leash: Feuilly and Bahorel.
Grantaire wants to laugh; itās one thing to know about your friendsā dom/sub dynamic, and another to see Feuilly wearing a muzzle and jingling the bell on his collar as he walks on all fours, his eyes clouded with sexual exhaustion.
He calls out to them from where heās draped across the bed, asking if theyāre up for a round with him, posing like an adult magazine model and batting his eyes just for the irony of it.
Bahorel scoffs and steps into the room, Feuilly close behind.
They just finished up a round with Musichetta, so Bahorel is too exhausted to go again just yet, but he says that Grantaire is free to play with his pet; he never gets tired.
Feuilly almost wants to protest to that, but the muzzle makes it too much effort, so he crawls his way up to the foot of the bed.
Grantaire pats Feuillyās head, ruffling his hair, while he asks Bahorel what his pet is good at.
According to Bahorel, Feuillyās hole is wonderfully tight, though itās been opened up somewhat from earlier play.
Not that he minds getting fucked again, since he canāt seem to get enough, Bahorel adds cheekily, provoking a groan from Feuilly even as the subās overused cock seems to confirm the statement.
When Feuilly turns around, it doesnāt take much to see that Bahorel was making an understatement; Feuillyās hole is red and gaping, still dripping with lubrication.
Grantaire appreciates this, since it means less effort is necessary on his part, requiring just a little lube on his cock before he levels himself with Feuillyās backside.
He takes Feuillyās hips, smacking his ass just to hear the pet whine indignantly, and then presses the tip of his cock against that loose hole, which easily takes him in down to the root.
Itās a matter of rhythm after that, which he makes sure heās in control of by pushing and pulling the petās hips, pounding into his needy hole until Feuilly canāt hold back his whimpers.
Bahorel merely watches them, smirking to himself as Feuilly shuts his eyes tight, the petās cock getting hard in spite of how much action heās already gotten.
Pain and pleasure rip through Feuilly with each thrust until Grantaire goes over the edge, humming as he cums.
He waits until heās spent to pull out, and Feuilly closes his eyes with a deep sigh, practically collapsing onto the floor.
Bahorel chuckles, patting Feuillyās hair and affectionately framing his face with one hand before picking him up.
He tells Grantaire that theyāll be down in the living room; his pet could use a hard-earned break.
Marius and Cosette had made the rules apparent when they set foot in the house: Marius is allowed to play with as many men as he likes, but Cosette is the only woman for him.
This frustrates Ćponine to no end, especially when she overhears Courfeyrac and Marius negotiating in the kitchen.
When theyāve agreed to give it a try, Marius says he has some business to take care of first, and Courfeyrac replies that heāll be waiting in one of the guest rooms.
Ćponine, with a sudden idea and an abundance of spite, quietly follows Courfeyrac.
Theyāve made it to the doorway of an unoccupied guest room when Ćponine steps a little too loudly, and Courfeyrac turns around, eyes widening with panic.
Then he sees that itās Ćponine, and chastises her for scaring him like thatā there could be ghosts in this house, after all, and he doesnāt need false alarms.
Ćponine rolls her eyes and asks if Courfeyrac wants to have sex with her.
Courfeyrac politely explains that heās waiting for Marius, but Ćponine lies that she just saw Marius and Cosette messing around with each other, so it could be a while before Marius gets to him.
After that, itās way too easy to convince Courfeyrac to give her a try.
The strap-on harness fits her hips perfectly, and Courfeyrac makes quick work of foreplay, knowing that theyāre both already warmed-up from previous encounters.
When Ćponine barks at Courfeyrac to get on his knees on the mattress and face the wall, he does it without hesitation, and she loves it.
She basks in his complicity, the way that he follows her orders so unquestioningly as long as thereās the promise of orgasm at the end of it.
In spite of her plan, she takes a moment to touch herself while she lubricates the strap-on, enamored by the position that Courfeyrac is in: hands against the headboard, legs spread, silently inviting her.
Then she catches her bearings, and she gets on the bed behind him, nails grazing across his shoulders and along his spine.
She presses into him, feeling his muscles give way to the toy, bringing her lips to the back of his neck.
She sucks at the warm skin, leaving shallow bruises wherever her mouth comes into contact with him.
She hears footsteps leading up to the room, and she turns her head just enough to see Marius come to a dead stop in the doorway.
They make eye contact for a few impossibly long seconds, Ćponine smirking as she thrusts triumphantly into Mariusās friend, Marius flushed with shock.
He flees the doorway, and Ćponine closes her eyes, ashamed and yet strangely proud of this petty piece of vengeance.
When Prouvaire comes by, making his rounds, he sighs and loudly reminds the two to close and lock the door before they start playing, then shuts the door himself.
Whatever. Itās worth it.
Montparnasse sneaks in through the open window.
Marius is no longer anxious about the prospect of having sex with one of his friends, and in fact, he has started to get anxious about the fact that he hasnāt managed to have sex with one of his friends yet.
He had secretly hoped that Courfeyrac would be his first, but Courfeyracās attention was suddenly occupied, so now Marius must look elsewhere.
In truth, heās been aroused ever since Enjolras kissed him, and as his sexual frustration grows, so do his nerves.
He goes back to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, but while heās walking through the hallway, he catches sight of Bossuet.
And as chance would have it, someone had very impolitely left a dildo on the floor, which Bossuet tripped over, causing him to crash head-first into Marius.
They land on the ground, Bossuet on top, no doubt feeling Mariusās erection hard against the cusp of his thigh.
Marius bites down hard on his lip, incredibly concerned, and Bossuet asks him whatās up, provoking Marius to spill out everything that has happened to him so far tonight.
Bossuet listens intently until Marius has finished with his troubled tale, and then, after a few moments of silence, he laughs.
Thereās a very easy way to fix Mariusās problem; in fact, Bossuet could probably do it himself.
Marius asks if he really would.
And Bossuet, true to his word, helps Marius up and takes him to a guest room, which he locks behind the both of them.
Although Marius has never been with a man, he isnāt a virgin; he knows, more or less, how sex begins.
He has a wonderful time exploring Bossuetās body, the firm chest, the rugged skin, the trail of hair leading down his abdomen.
He catches a nipple between two of his fingers and gently squeezes it, experimenting with his hands against various parts of Bossuetās body.
When he touches Bossuetās cock for the first time, he shivers a bit, feeling it react to the pressure and friction of his fingers.
He isnāt sure heās ready for any kind of penetration, but he canāt deny how good it feels to have his hand on a responsive cock, curling his fingers completely around it and stroking, feeling it twitch as he rhythmically moves up and down.
Whatās even better is Bossuetās hand around his own hard length, which has had yet to be touched since the party began.
Enveloping him with strong warmth that spreads into his groin and up through his stomach, pulling pleasure from him with every motion.
Bossuet comes first, but he keeps going, pumping Mariusās straining cock until he finishes with a shuddering moan.
Mariusās world broadens into a white, electric horizon, and then settles into comfortable exhaustion.
Prouvaire has designated the master bedroom as aĀ āromp roomāā one for people to enter if they want some more casual play with a larger number of guests.
At the moment, four people happen to be in this room: Feuilly, who has long removed his muzzle and collar; Cosette, who has just come back inside from exploring the garden; Combeferre, whose urges to dominate have been more than satisfied; and Grantaire.
Grantaire, who off-handedly mentions something about ghosts and is suddenly treated with a fantastic tale by the other three.
They tell him a story, which they insist is true, about a courtesan ghost haunting innocent university students back home, and Combeferre wonders aloud if there are any ghosts with them now.
Grantaire scoffs; ghosts donāt exist, and even if they did, they would surely have better things to do than fuck for all of eternityā although, that doesnāt sound like such a bad afterlife.
Cosette gets an idea to see if they can prove the existence of their ghost by having one come and play with him.
He smirks in disbelief when she hands him the blindfold, but he puts it on anyway, as the often-skeptical Feuillyās confirmation of the ghost storyās validity interests him.
Combeferre is the first one to attempt communication with the spirit, followed by the other two, while Grantaire sits on the edge of the bed, waiting in disbelief.
Then a pair of hands pushes him hard, onto his back, and although he knows it must be one of the others, he plays along anyway.
He canāt distinguish people, but sensations: the sensation of someone pulling him onto their lap, the sensation of someone elseās lips on the tip of his bare cock.
Even if it isnāt supernatural, itās a very interesting excuse for a foursome.
When his cock has been sucked to hardness, he feels a wet finger graze one of his ass cheeks, and he relaxes himself, letting the finger open him up as smoothly as possible.
The finger is joined by another, and Grantaire realizes that no one else is talking anymore, leaving the room silent except for the sounds of bodies moving against one another.
He breathes a shaky sigh when a hard length enters him from below, and the mouth on his cock moves away, soon to be replaced by a condom (how strange for a ghost to use a condom!) and the sensation of a warm, welcoming entrance opening up around him, pulling his cock inside.
This is soon joined by another length prodding at his lips, which he opens, taking it inside of his mouth.
Grantaire is impressed by their dedication to the act, using their hands to prod and stroke various parts of his sides, his chest, his face, his legs.
Then suddenly, he feels like there are too many hands to account for the three of them, and when the cock inside of his mouth has reached its limit, itās quickly replaced by another one, even though the one in his ass remains where it is.
He canāt count the hands anymore, but the shock of it all confuses his cock, sending chills through him as heās ravished by the bodies around him, earthly or otherwise.
The stimulation is too much, and he turns into a moaning mess, his body twitching by the time that he finally manages to cum.
When theyāre all done, panting and lying all over each other, Feuilly asks if Grantaire is convinced.
Grantaire takes off the blindfold and looks at his companionsā of which there are no longer three.
At some point during their adventure, Courfeyrac and Joly found the master bedroom and had decided to join in.
Grantaire huffs, shoving Feuilly away and nearly causing him to off of the bed; so there was an earthly explanation for this, after all.
When Musichetta stops Bahorel in the hallway, asking if heāll fuck her, he reminds her that he already has, and that she should look for someone else to fill out her checklist.
Musichetta rolls her eyes and tells him that sheās already fucked pretty much every guy here who will fuck her; now sheās going for Round Two.
Round Two, as it turns out, is pretty much like Round One, but faster.
Once theyāre in the guest bedroom, she doesnāt even bother to lock the door, and when she starts making out with Bahorel, rubbing her palm on his cock, jamming her leg between his, he jokes that she must be on a speed-run.
But he doesnāt mind if it means heāll get another orgasm in tonight, so he certainly doesnāt complain when she curls her legs around his waist, opening herself up around his hard length.
He moves backwards until his leg hits the edge of the bed, and he takes a seat, supporting her hips as she begins to ride him.
She buries one hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and as her hand closes tightly, it throws his head back.
His hands grip her thighs, helping to move her up and down in time with his thrusts, and she throws her head back, too.
Theyāre in the throes of their quick exchange when Bahorelās eye catches something moving past the open door of the guest bedroom, as quick as a shadow and just as elusive.
Was that Prouvaire? No, if it was Prouvaire, he would have scolded them for leaving the door open.
Bahorel silently prays to whatever deity might be out there that he didnāt just experience his first real ghost encounter while on the verge of orgasm.
When the party is coming to a close, Prouvaire gathers all of the guests in the living room for a head-count.
The only person he has yet to find is Enjolras, who has been hiding for most of the evening.
He has checked all of the guest rooms, the master bedroom, the bathroom, and even the garden.
Everywhere except for the dungeon.
The dungeon doesnāt lock, because the most intense play happens there, and Prouvaire needs to be able to get inside right away if something goes wrong.
So when he sees that the door is closed, he doesnāt think twice; he opens it.
Inside, he sees two figures on the table.
The one on the bottom is Enjolras, lying on his back, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape, making small, needy thrusts with a strap-on.
Above him is tonightās uninvited guest, Montparnasse, riding Enjolras with unwarranted fervor.
Montparnasse is the first one to notice that the door is open, but that doesnāt stop him.
In fact, he seems to revel in the attention of their unsuspecting voyeur, pounding down on Enjolrasās strap-on with bravado, face bearing a sly grin.
Prouvaire is furious, but he doesnāt say anything just yet, perhaps due to the shock of seeing Enjolras truly enjoying himself in a sexual context.
And enjoy himself he does, still oblivious to the intrusion, audible gasps leaving his slightly-parted lips.
Montparnasseās hand is curled around his throat, not enough to choke him, but enough to show anyone watching whoās in charge.
Montparnasse looks Prouvaire dead in the eye, licking his lips as he vigorously takes Enjolras inside of him, each movement contributing to the tension in his obvious erection.
He takes his cock in hand and strokes it, building up the finish he needs to paint Enjolrasās chest and abdomen with his cum, smile widening as the blond whimpers beneath him.
Thatās when Prouvaire steps forward, essentially drags Montparnasse off of Enjolrasās strap-on, and informs him that uninvited guests have the honor of cleaning up after the festivities.
When all of the others have left, Prouvaire gives Montparnasse a mop and a bucket, followed by a stack of towels thrown directly at his face.
He shows Montparnasse where to get other cleaning supplies if he needs themā and he will need them.
Prouvaire expects the house to be spotless; his parents must never know that their beloved haunted house has been used for certain other purposes.
That said, if Montparnasse needs anything, he can find Prouvaire in the garden.
And if he cleans up quickly enough, then maybeā just maybeā Prouvaire will let him participate in another little play party, consisting of just the two of them.
Montparnasse gets to work.
