I do not own anything written by Rumiko Takahashi or Kosuke Fujishima.

Warning: High Citrus Content

Ryoga was nervous — really nervous. After he had once again found himself at the Amazons' encampment they had waited until he had a chance to share a meal with his wives, catching up on what had happened while they'd been separated before telling him that they had a possible solution to his ... problem.

(His wives had been thrilled with his story about finding himself in the middle of a fight between a young Japanese man and older Caucasian man built like a bull — both had been throwing balls of their own ki energy at each other — at least, he thought both had been using their ki, though the ki of the bulked up one had been practically black — and he was determined to figure out how to do that himself.)

He had been excited to learn there might be an easy fix ... until they told him just what it entailed — someone they'd found able to manipulate dreams, that would allow him to experience his second wife having her way with him without losing consciousness. Because he'd already be unconscious.

So now he was lying naked under a blanket on his bedroll in his wives' tent, both cuddled up against him with Pa Fum's head resting on his right shoulder and Xian Pu on his left, waiting for sleep ... and stiff as a board, wide eyes staring at the ceiling lit by a hanging kerosene lamp.

This isn't going to work.

/\

Ranma was nervous — really nervous. Yes, she was a succubus, but thanks to her part-time status up until now she'd been able to get by with eating regular food while human — the few times she'd needed sex-as-sustenance her fiancée had been happy to satisfy her. And yes, as a succubus she had seen people having sex, with her inability to really see most building materials she couldn't help it. But before she had always looked away, to give people their privacy as best she could; now she wasn't just going to be an observer, she was going to be a participant — of a sort — and the one time that had been the case (other than with Nabiki) it hadn't turned out so well.

So now she was floating just below the tent's ceiling (the tent's kerosene lamp actually inside her, and didn't that warmth where her heart should be feel weird), and growing more and more frustrated. She just wanted to get this over with and he wasn't even trying to fall asleep, he was just lying there with his eyes wide open — if he'd been able to see her, he'd have been staring right at her face.

A' course if he could see me he'd be looking a little farther down — he is a guy, after all. Or maybe not, I wouldn't be here. Will you just sleep!

To her shock, almost as if in response to her silent shout, he yawned and his eyelids slowly drooped. Within a few minutes he began to snore. What? Did I do that? She pushed aside the thought, he'd have time to think about it later, talk it over with his mother and fiancée. She whispered, "He's out, let's get this done."

There was a soft chuckle from Xian Pu as she sat up. "Not hard to know, as loud Husband is. Maybe good thing he Wanderer, after all, most of the time Shampoo ... most of the time I and Perfume able to sleep. But Ran — but sex spirit right, let's do this." She flipped the blanket back, and her eyes widened at the sight of his impressive length even when limp. She murmured, "At least that never be disappointment."

Pa Fum sat up as well, scooting a few feet away from Ryoga. "Xian Pu, are you sure about this? Tradition ..."

Xian Pu turned to look at Pa Fum, her stern expression softening to match the honest affection she felt for her wife. "Yes, Sham — I am sure. I know tradition is when two wives marry at same time First Wife makes love to Husband first, but this not make love — this is me using Husband to play with self. You deserve better." Smile turning sly, she added, "Besides, I have more more experience than you."

"Much more," Pa Fum corrected, but she was blushing furiously, making Xian Pu giggle.

So was Ranma, though she was swallowing her own giggles, and when Xian Pu glanced up at the space she knew Ranma occupied and asked if she was ready the succubus's answer was rather breathless. "Give me a moment."

She dropped down to hover over Ryoga, laying an open palm on his forehead. She didn't want to actually possess him; even if the thought of actually sharing his experience to the extent merging would cause didn't feel squicky, she was worried it would interfere with her ability to control the dream. But simple contact ...

Me and Nabs should have practiced this. But things had been moving too fast, and she couldn't back out now — Ryoga could vanish in the middle of the night looking for the park's restrooms, and who knew when he'd be back? So she eased her way into her frienemy and sometime sensei's mind, and as expected found the emptiness of a sleeping mind that hadn't started dreaming yet that she'd come to know from her nights with Nabiki. Slowly she pushed the scene she'd seen from the top of the tent into that sleeping mind, so that it faded into view like a slowly focusing camera lens. (She'd learned the hard way that having that image spring to life in an instant would not only jerk Nabiki awake, but give her such a shot of adrenalin that it would take her forever to go back to sleep.)

But the image was finally in focus, and she shifted it so that it was as if Ryoga was looking along his naked body at his wives through Ranma's eyes, a few inches above his face. "Okay, we're ready."

/\

I'm dreaming. It was a distant thought, barely a ripple. But still, there was an unreal quality that normally only came at the tail end of dreams, as he was slowly surfacing to the waking world.

Only he wasn't waking up.

Looking along his naked body, he watched in the light of the kerosene lamp and the fading light of dusk coming through the open tent flap as his Second Wife undulated on her knees, arms raised above her head, while his First Wife's fingers were busy with the lacings down the sides of her co-wife's tight dress. Then the dress was falling away, revealing Xian Pu's large, firm breasts with nipples pointed rather than mostly flat as before. (The sight of them earlier may have laid him flat, but it was also burned into his memory.) The tuft of hair at the top of the 'V' of her legs showed that the purple of her luxurious hair was its natural color.

He felt the familiar gathering darkness that even a pale shadow of that sight had brought before, only to hear an oddly familiar female voice dimly echo in the back of his mind — "Oh, no, you don't! — and the darkness vanished as the unreal quality of his view sharpened. Perhaps too sharp, as that wave of purple hair flowed down to cut off his view of his groin and he felt the wet warmth of her lips and tongue slither around his rapidly hardening rod. Within moments that rod was so hard it almost ached, and his wife lifted her head, parted her hair and smiled at him.

A moment later she was crouched over him, knees on each side of his waist, hand grasping his spit-wet rod. She shuddered as she rubbed its head between her engorged nether lips, coating its tip with her juices, and then slowly lowered herself until her hips rested on his. He shuddered at the wet, tight heat that engulfed him, and again the world began to lose its focus as darkness crept in around the edges. His wife froze in place, motionless as the darkness faded away and she again gained an unreal clarity. Her lips moved and he realized she must be saying something but only now noticed that the world was completely silent — no rustling leaves from the trees around the tent, no light billowing of the tent's canvas from the same breeze, no birdsong from the trees' inhabitants. Then the Amazon lifted her hands to massage her breasts and tweak her nipples and her hips started to move, and all thoughts of the lack of sound vanished in the sensation of the wet, gripping walls of her sheath sliding up and down along his shaft. He tried to thrust his groin up to meet her pistoning hips, but he was still locked motionless.

Another pair of hands appeared between Xian Pu's arms and chest, pushing his Second Wife's hands aside to take their place on her breasts, and she lifted her hands to run them through her hair and clasp them behind her head, lifting and thrusting her chest forward as she continued to lift and fall. Every muscle in his body seemed to tighten further with each slippery drop until they must have been like steel as he felt his hips growing slick with her juices.

And suddenly his butt clenched, his achingly hard sword actually seemed to harden more, before exploding again and again, filling her cleft with his seed, until his every muscle went limp as a dish rag.

"Good boy..." For a moment he felt a soft ghostly hand on his forehead, and then the world finally faded to black. His last sight was Xian Pu swinging a leg across him, milky-white oozing from her cleft, to kneel at his side, revealing Pa Fum behind her. Her head was again dropping toward his now-limp rod.

/\

If Ranma had been in her human form, he would have been drenched with sweat. Of course if she had been in her human form, he wouldn't have been able to pull off the stunt she'd just managed. It probably hadn't been perfect — she thought she'd been focusing too hard on transferring what she was seeing into Ryoga's brain while fighting to ignore the lust radiating from husband and wives — but only the Lost Boy would know how well she'd done and she was never going to ask him.

She may not have been sweat-drenched, but she was shaking as she drifted back up towards the tent's roof. Her voice was strained with the effort to keep it steady as she focused on Pa Fum (doing her best to ignore a Xian Pu cleaning up the mixed juices and seed coating her husband's rod and thighs with her tongue). "All done, he's out."

Pa Fum had been watching Xian Pu and rubbing her thighs together, radiating her own lusty need, but at the sound of Ranma's voice she looked up. "Did it work?"

"He stayed aware a' the dream until Shampoo was done. Whether it actually helps, who knows? You'll hafta find that out yourself when he wakes up."

"I will." But Pa Fum's attention had drifted back to her co-wife and she pounced on her, pulling her away from their husband and onto her back. She purred, "I think I'm done waiting," before sliding down along Xian Pu's body towards her cleft oozing white.

Ranma blushed furiously. "Yeah, right, I'll just ... see ya guys tomorrow." She fled through the tent's roof — she really hoped her mother and fiancée were through with their discussions with the Elders about whatever mystical ritual they were researching, she needed Nabiki and a secluded spot in the park she'd noticed bad.

/oOo\

When Ryoga woke up it was to find the tent dimly lit by the kerosene lamp turned as low as it could go, the night empty of any sound but distant, intermittent traffic. He didn't know how late it was, though from how rested he felt it had been at least a few hours.

He glanced around, surprised not to find his wives sleeping with a head on each of his shoulders as usual, only to find them to one side wrapped around each other ... and from the flesh revealed by the slipping blanket that had covered them, neither was wearing a stitch of clothing.

Before that night, the sight — and what it implied (more like, what it shouted) — would have sent his thoughts into a spiral that would have had him out like a light. Now, though he was blushing furiously, enough to feel light-headed, he didn't feel more than a little wobbly. It seemed their exposure therapy had worked.

Good thing, because he really needed to pee.

He silently groped for his pants and pulled them on, then rose to his knees and readjusted the blanket covering his wives. Pa Fum murmured something in her sleep and unconsciously tightened her grip on his Second Wife, and Ryoga smiled fondly at the pair. Maybe this whole marriage thing really would work.

Then under pressure from his increasingly strained bladder, he grabbed his backpack and backed out of the tent while pulling it after him, rose to his feet, slung his backpack onto his back, and set off toward where he thought the park's toilets were.

In six steps he found himself in the middle of the day. At least he thought it was the middle of the day, it was a little hard to tell with the blowing snow. He hastily put down and opened his back pack to pull out his coat, already shaking thanks to the bitter cold.

At least there was one problem solved, from the depth of the snow-covered naked rock of the gorge in front of him with the river of ice at the bottom ... and the thinness of the air ... there wouldn't be anyone around to complain about a little yellow snow.

Though as cold as it was he really wasn't looking forward to whipping out his dick.