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Slightly Less Publicly Acceptable Than Fidget Spinners

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Amanda Brotzman was not having a pararibulitis attack.

She knew that - they had a certain… feel to them, for lack of a better term, and this wasn’t what she was feeling.

She was just… restless.

Sort of?

She was full of nervous energy, and she was half tempted to ask the boys to eat it off of her, as they sat around the fire.

Well, Cross and Gripps sat around the fire, tossing bits and piece of things (mostly pine cones) into it.

Vogel was doing… something Vogel-ish.

Who even knew, except that he’d flail in her general direction occasionally, with a hopeful expression, and she’d smile at him.

She was sitting on a seat that had been pulled out of the van, and Martin was sitting behind her, on the back of the seat.

He was running his hands through her hair, and that was nice, that was… that was a level of nice she wasn’t expecting, except that it was waking up that same restlessness at the base of her spine.

It wasn’t… exactly arousal, but it wasn’t not arousal either.

It was something that was making her muscles want to move, but also made her want to sit and take it.

Whatever “it” happened to be.

And then she looked up at Martin again, and she grabbed him by the beard and pulled him down.

He nearly overbalanced, then planted his feet on the seat, and he looked down at her, his eyes heavy lidded, looking amused.

“Something I can help you with, Drummer?”

His voice was a drawl, and it gave her shivers up and down her back, the beginning of the restlessness going between her legs, beating at her clit.

… was she just really, really horny?

She wasn’t some blushing virgin who’d never been aroused before - she’d fucked around, she’d masturbated, she knew what being aroused was like.

This… didn’t feel like that.

It was restless - she wanted to smash and break, she wanted to fight she wanted to….

“I wanna fuck,” Amanda said, because it popped out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about it.

“Me? Yourself?”

Martin continued to look wrly interested, and that was… frustrating, and she was annoyed enough that she was standing on the seat, and then she was aware of a big body behind her, and she looked over her shoulder.

There was Gripps, his hands hovering over her hips to keep her from falling over.

She smiled at him, and he grinned back at her, his bright teeth catching the firelight.

And there was Vogel, crowding next to Gripps, and there was Cross, looking… interested, to say the least.

She put her hands on top of Martin’s head, and his hair was almost crunchy - he needed to stop bleaching it so often.

But he moaned when she gave it a yank, and that sent an arrow of wanting, right down into her belly.

“Can I help you?” Martin asked again.

“I dunno,” said Amanda, “can you?”

“I can!”

Vogel’s voice was bright, almost manic, and she looked over her shoulder at him.

His eyes were wide.

“Well,” said Amanda, “how are you planning on doing that?”

“Any way you want me to,” Vogel said promptly.

Amanda’s frustration, or arousal, or… something boiled over and she grabbed Martin by the hair and kissed him on the mouth, because if she didn’t do something with her mouth she was going to scream or die or… something.

The Rowdy Three (sans Martin) gave a cheer, and then she was grabbing awkwardly behind her, to feel Gripp’s hovering hands, and she pressed them against her, his hands so big that the tips of his fingers rested on the bit of skin between her waistband and the hem of her shirt.

She shuddered - his skin was hot, and so was Martin’s mouth, which tasted like cigarettes, and then there was another hand hovering over her, and she grabbed that one too - who cared whose it was? - and pressed it against her belly, and then they seemed to get the message, because there was another body on the seat with them, and a pair of hands on her leg, a different pair on her other leg.

And Martin’s big hands were on his knees, and she was putting her hands on top of his, interlacing their fingers, squeezing them.

She pulled back, and she was being… lifted down.

“Don’t want you to get hurt, Drummer,” Gripps said, right in her ear.

“I’m not gonna get hurt,” Amanda said, frustrating beginning to boil in her stomach.

“You’re not gonna get hurt,” Cross echoed.

She ground herself back again Gripps, and... yep, that was definitely an erection, and his hips were working.

Vogel was pressing close to her side, and Cross was hanging back, just a bit.

She reached for him, reached for Martin.

“Fuck me,” she said.


Martin’s voice was rough, and his hands were bunching up the fabric of his pants, as his knuckles went white.

“All of you,” said Amanda.

Vogel blinked.

“You want all of us?”

His voice cracked.

“I want all of you,” Amanda said, her voice more confident than her feelings.

She’d… well, to be blunt, she’d never had sex with four dudes at the same time.

But… fuck it.

They were the Rowdy Three.

They could do whatever the fuck they wanted.

* * *

She ended up bending over the seat, and Gripps was rubbing her between the legs, through her jeans which was a tease, but… in the best way possible.

She ground her hips forward,hunching them, and then… Vogel was right in front of her, sitting on the seat, right between Martin’s legs, and his hands were on her boobs - his hands were on her breasts, and then Cross was sitting next to Vogel, and he was kissing her nervously, tentatively.

His goatee was ticklish, and his tongue was clumsy, but his hands were soft.

And then Gripps was… getting on the ground, he was sitting in front of her, and his hands were on her hips, his hands were on her belt, his hands were… oh, they were pulling her pants down and off, and then she was… oh, fuck.

Gripps’ mouth was on her clit, Gripps’ fingers were on her ass, and then there was Cross, as indolent as a housecat, his hand around his cock, and no, she wanted that to be her hand.

She reached out, and she squeezed him, from tip to root and back again, and he groaned like he was in pain, his whole body going tense.

“Fuck, Drummer,” he breathed.

“That’s what we’re doing,” Amanda said, and then she leaned down, kissing Vogel, and her hips were rocking forward, because Gripps was.. Suspiciously good at eating pussy.

He was sucking on her clit, and then his tongue was inside of her, and she was shuddering, and he was beginning to fuck her with his mouth, and Cross was smirking at her, and....

“That’s what you wanna do, huh?”

“Do it,” said Amanda. “Fuckin’ do it.”

And he laughed, and stood up, and then he was coming behind her, and... oh, yes….

He slid into her, long and sweet, and he was thick enough that she felt it, and oh wow, it was as long and sweet and he was, as he rolled his hips, flexed his cock inside of her, and then she was leaning forward, and there was Martin’s cock, next to Vogel’s face, and Vogel was turning his face towards it, and and then he was mouthing along Martin’s shaft, and she was sucking the head of his cock, and Martin was moaning.

Martin’s cock was thick and salty in her mouth, and she swallowed it down, as he swore and rolled his hips, his hand on the back of her head, tangled in her hair, and there was Cross’s hips speeding up, and shit, were they gonna knock her up?

She pulled back, looking up at Martin, her expression halfway to panicked.

“Somethin’ the matter?”

Martin’s eyes were hazy, and his lips were swollen, where he’d been biting them.

“Is this.. .is this safe?”

“Ain’t nothin’ that’d hurt you could get a hold on us,” Martin said.

“We’re radioactive,” Cross said, from over her shoulder.

Amanda paused.

“We’re… different,” said Martin, his expression thoughtful. “But we don’t work like you do. Mechanically.”

“So I’m not gonna get pregnant?”

“No babies,” Gripps said, from between her legs, and she rested an awkward hand on his head, and he made a contented noise, nuzzling into it.

He must have been at least somewhat uncomfortable, sucking on her clit as Cross fucked her, but… he seemed pretty happy.

And then she was back on Martin’s cock, and Vogel was… licking the shaved portion of her head, which, okay, was pretty nice, but also weird as hell.

She shuddered, because then Vogel had abandoned Martin’s cock to play with her breasts, which were just hanging down, and then she was… oh, god, Cross was cumming inside of her, and Martin’s hips were beginning to roll like a boat in a storm.

“It’s gonna get messy,” Vogel said, his eyes glued to Martin’s face.

Amanda took a deep breath, and leaned in, taking all of Martin’s cock into her mouth, down her throat,

And he came.

His cum - the bits that she got, at any rate - were salty and bitter against her tongue, and it was enough to make her shudder, and then Cross was pulling out, as she swallowed, and then Vogel was looking at her, his expression hopeful, as she pulled off of Martin’s cock.

“Can I come in boss, please?”

“Get in there,” Amanda said thickly, already on the edge of her orgasm.

She looked down at Gripps, licking her lips, as Cross collapsed on the seat next to her, and he grinned, the same look in his face as the time he’d sucked the pain from her nerves, as she was on her knees in front of him.

She smiled, tenderness blossoming in her heart, and then Vogel slid inside of her like a heartbeat, and Gripps was moaning, and there was something wet against her leg, and she as cumming around Vogel, who was holding on to her hips and working his own desperately, with the same manic energy he did everything.

She came around Vogel’s cock, looking up into Martin’s eyes, and he grinned at her like something in the tall grass, cupping her cheek, his thumb in her mouth.

She had bitten it at some point, and his blood was almost as bitter and salty as his cum.

And then Vogel was cumming inside of her, bursting like a bottle of warm champagne, and he draped himself across her back, nuzzling into her neck.

“You’re so soft, Drummer,” he said into her skin, through her sweaty shirt.

She sighed, sucking on Martin’s thumb, and she felt Vogel pull out of her, and then she was collapsing into Gripps’ lap, and she was cuddling into his warmth, as he wrapped his arms around her, and then Martin was getting down onto the main seat, his hands on top of her head, and Vogel’s leg was pressed against her palm, and Cross had a hand on the back of her neck.

And finally - finally - whatever that restless energy had been left her.

She relaxed against Gripps, her eyes sliding shut, and she sighed, contentment sliding deep into her bones.