Fel’rekt has a Thing for Krebbyg. Krebbyg has a Thing for Fel’rekt. Apparently, they’re the only two people in Bregan D’aerthe who haven’t realised the Thing goes both ways.
Fortunately for everyone, Zeth’rinn has a plan to fix this.
Technically, the vacant house on Saerdoun Street was an observational outpost. Technically, Fel’rekt was posted there to oversee the intelligence-gathering operation on the Gralhunds. And, technically, Zeth’rinn wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near a Bregan D’aerthe operative with actual rank because Jarlaxle was still sore about the thing with the dragon, as if he had any right to be sore about anything involving dragons, given his history.
All the technicalities in the world couldn’t erase the fact that Zeth’rinn had needs, as did Fel’rekt, and finding someone who could take care of those needs without getting unpleasant about either their drow heritage or the particular shape of their gender was not as easy as either of their libidos might have hoped.
“Fuck,” Zeth’rinn gasped, digging his nails into Fel’s back. “Why does that thing feel twice as big when you use it on me as when I use it on myself?”
“Because you’re lazy,” Fel’rekt replied.
“Reasonably true.”
The strap and its harness fit Fel as well as him—better, if he was being honest—and continued to be worth every gold he’d spent on it. Say what you liked about Waterdeep; there were artificers here who would make whatever you wanted, no questions asked. So now he—and by extension Fel—had a finely crafted artificial cock that transmitted almost as much feeling as the real thing, and Zeth’rinn was getting rather enjoyably plowed into the floor. The outpost didn’t have beds because it wasn’t an actual house and no-one was supposed to be resting there, let alone fucking.
It was fine. Besides, they couldn’t fuck in Fel’s quarters on the Scarlet Marpenoth, because everyone could hear you fucking on a submarine, and they couldn’t fuck in Zeth’rinn’s cabin on the Eyecatcher, because not only could everyone also hear you fucking on a boat, but that went double when it was your father’s boat and he’d explicitly informed you—politely but firmly, through gritted teeth—that if he had to overhear or hear about your sex life one more time, he was going to keelhaul you. Bold words, Zeth’rinn thought, for a man who had two very flexible new acrobats in his employ that came for ‘dinner’ every night, and a collection of on-again-off-again lovers scattered in the Worlds Below and Above, but there it was. And there they were, fucking on the floor of the outpost.
Fel’rekt was good on top. Zeth’rinn wasn’t picky either way—excepting the aforementioned laziness—and he and Fel had shared beds and bodies enough times over the years to know how best to please each other. He hooked a leg around Fel’s hip, encouraging him to drive deeper.
“How close is your alchemy to letting you do this to me without accessories?” he asked. Fel grimaced.
“Not close enough. If Valas didn’t have such horror stories about polymorphing, I’d bother one of the wizards to try it.”
“We have one who can?”
“If we don’t, Jarlaxle knows one.”
“Gromph isn’t going to polymorph you.”
“He might.”
“Into an eel, maybe.” Zeth’rinn groaned as Fel’s hand found his clit. “Oh, fuck, right there.”
Fel’rekt grinned and kissed him briefly. “I know right where. I also know you’re going to come in the next two minutes, then whine while I keep fucking you until I’m done.”
“I will not,” Zeth’rinn protested. Fel’s thumb rolled over the small cockhead of his swollen clit, and he cursed. “Bastard.”
Because Fel did know him, and he did come in the next two minutes, then spent another five or so writhing and whining and pawing at Fel’s back as, true to his word, he kept going until his own climax finally came for him, whereupon he collapsed with a satisfied sigh, crushing most of the air from Zeth’rinn’s lungs in the process.
“You’re so small, why do you weigh so damn much?” Zeth’rinn grumbled, though he wrapped an arm around Fel’s waist rather than shove him off.
“All muscle,” Fel’rekt mumbled, laying lazy, post-coital kisses on Zeth’rinn’s neck and shoulder. Zeth’rinn idly stroked his back as they caught their breath. The sounds of Waterdeep city life drifted vaguely through the cracked window, accompanied by the patter of rain. After far too short a while, Fel’rekt sat up and set about extricating himself from the harness.
“I’m patrolling with Krebbyg tonight,” he said, “but if you want another tumble tomorrow, I’ll be here.” He scowled. “I’ll be here most of the tenday. Gods, I hate observation missions. I’m losing my mind just sitting around all day.”
“I do love a good tumble, particularly if it keeps your sanity intact,” Zeth’rinn said. Then; “Krebbyg keeps getting patrols with you lately.”
Fel’rekt didn’t look at him as he tugged his trousers back on. “We make a good team.”
“You know he has a massive thing for you, right?”
Fel’rekt snorted. “Right.”
“I’m serious. Have you not seen the way he looks at you?”
Zeth’rinn had. So, for that matter, had half of Bregan D’aerthe. Everyone who’d come on the Waterdeep operation had watched Krebbyg get moonier and moonier over Fel all the way up from the Underdark: arranging to take watches and now patrols with him, offering to help him with the beloathed intelligence collation paperwork, always asking him to spar after dinner. The way the pair of them bantered whilst they were training was frankly sickening.
Fel’rekt tucked his shirt roughly into his trousers. “He doesn’t look at me in any way. At you maybe, because you’re as much a peacock as your father, if not worse.”
“He doesn’t want to fuck me.” Zeth’rinn thought a moment. “Well, he might. Many people do. But he definitely wants to fuck you, and probably a lot more less carnal things too. And you can’t tell me you don’t want to at least bed him.”
“I’ll not deny he’s attractive,” Fel’rekt said. “But I…even if I was interested in him the way you’re implying, you’re wrong about the other way around. I’m not the sort he’d want to be with.”
“Why not?”
Fel seemed to shrink in on himself, turning away and going to examine the logbook he was meant to be filling out every hour. It hadn’t been updated for several. “I’m half-finished.”
“You’re finished enough, and that’s no reason for him not to—”
“It’s plenty of reason, and he doesn’t care for me anyway, so drop it.”
Zeth’rinn got to his feet with a huff. “What if I can prove he likes you? As you are, stupid hair and all.”
“We have the same hair.”
“The hair isn’t the point. The point is, we should have a threesome.”
A startled laugh that was half a shriek. “A what?”
“A threesome.”
“Which would accomplish what, exactly?”
“For one thing, get him into bed with you. For another, I’ll bet you ten gold right now that even if he’s fucking me, he’ll only have eyes for you.”
Fel’rekt thought for a long moment. Then he held out a hand. “Ten gold. And I’ll bet you another five he won’t want to go down on either of us.”
“That include the harness?”
“That includes the harness.”
Zeth’rinn grasped his hand and shook it, grinning. “Fel, I love you, but this is going to be the stupidest fifteen gold you’ve ever lost.”
Fel smiled wryly back.
“We’ll see about that.”
Tymora’s Blessing was rowdy and crowded, yet Krebbyg still had a table in the corner all to himself. He sat nursing a drink, scanning the room for their arrival—Zeth’rinn tugged Fel’rekt away from the door as soon as they entered, keeping out of his sight.
“Do not,” he said, “undermine this. I’m not paying you anything if you sabotage my seduction.”
“Your seductions don’t need my help to crash and burn.”
Zeth’rinn punched him in the arm. “I mean it.”
“Fine, fine!” Fel rubbed at his bicep, wincing. “Let’s get this over with.”
They made a quick stop at the bar, where Zeth’rinn flirted his way to near-immediate drinks, despite the crowd—his seductions worked plenty fine, thank you very much—and then the two of them made their way over to join Krebbyg. His smile on seeing Fel shifted to a frown in Zeth’rinn’s general direction.
“What are you up to, Baenre?” he asked, as they took seats either side of him.
“I’m not up to anything.” Zeth’rinn took a swallow of mead and slung an arm around his shoulders. Krebbyg was shorter than he was, closer to Fel’s height, but broader than either of them, with beautifully solid arms that were currently shamefully concealed beneath shirt and leathers and cloak.
“You’re always up to something. It runs in the family.”
“For once, I swear on…well, on something less fickle than my origins, that I am up to nothing,” Zeth’rinn said. He waited until Fel had raised his mug to his lips before continuing, “Fel’rekt thinks we should have a threesome.”
Ale sprayed across the table. “I…I do not…I didn’t…Zeth’rinn!”
Krebbyg didn’t spit anything out, since he hadn’t drunk anything to spit, but he did give Fel a look that seemed both thoughtful and vaguely interested, which was encouraging. “What makes you think I’d sleep with one man, let alone two?”
Zeth’rinn arched an eyebrow. “My friend, you joined Bregan D’aerthe.”
“Point taken,” Krebbyg conceded. “But out of all my options there, what makes you think I’d go with you?”
“I’m hot, I’m good in bed, I’m extremely flexible, my mouth has excellent peer reviews…” Zeth’rinn counted out his virtues on his fingers. “…the list goes on. And Fel is similarly skilled, plus he’s better at topping than I am.”
“That mean he can make you shut up?”
“On occasion.”
Fel’rekt was glaring daggers at him, grey skin darkened in a furious flush that only served to highlight how lovely his eyes were. Hopefully Krebbyg appreciated the enhancement.
“Alright,” he said eventually. “Sounds as good a way to pass the evening as any. Where are we going? Because I don’t think my cabin on the Marpenoth will fit three of us.”
“Don’t worry,” Zeth’rinn said, taking another swig of his drink. “I have just the place.”
The place was not the observation outpost. Whilst it wasn’t impossible to have a threesome without a bed, it was decidedly more comfortable with one, so the afternoon prior to their rendezvous at Tymora’s Blessing, Zeth’rinn had used all the powers of money and influence at his disposal to rent a very nice room up in the Sea Ward with a very expensive view of the ocean sadly destined to go soundly ignored all night.
“You two get comfortable,” he said, motioning towards the king-sized bed with its wine-red sheets and inspiringly sturdy frame. “I’ll set a few things up.”
“What things?” Krebbyg asked, immediately suspicious.
Zeth’rinn tapped one of his rings against the candle on the dresser, igniting the wick. “Atmosphere and such.”
“I can do that,” Fel’rekt said quickly, hurrying away from the bed—and Krebbyg—to join him. “They left matches, see?”
“What did I say about sabotage?” Zeth’rinn muttered under his breath as Fel’rekt fumbled with the matchbook. He didn’t reply, so Zeth’rinn gave up. Someone had to get this threesome started, it might as well be him. He hauled his shirt over his head, stretching his arms languidly to show off his chest. Krebbyg didn’t seem overly impressed. Hardly surprising; there wasn’t really anyone in Bregan D’aerthe who hadn’t seen Zeth’rinn with his shirt off, whether they wanted to or not.
He sauntered over and settled his hands on Krebbyg’s shoulders, bending to meet his mouth. “Ready?”
“I don’t know, are you?” Krebbyg replied, and put a hand to the back of his head to pull him into a kiss.
He was a strong kisser, confident and firm; no tease, all please. It boded rather well for the rest of the night. Zeth’rinn kissed him all the way onto the bed, leaving a trail of their remaining clothes behind as he did so. All that lovely broad muscle under him; Fel might be in love, but Zeth’rinn could readily admit to being in lust with how wide his legs had to spread to straddle Krebbyg’s hips. He carried most of his weight in his lower half, and Zeth’rinn would have been more than happy to bury his face and hands in that plush ass and those thick thighs until the sun came up.
Alas, there were other things to do tonight. For example: getting Fel’rekt on the damn bed.
“Get a move on, Fel, or there won’t be anything left of him,” Zeth’rinn called. The reply came as an unconfident mumble about needing another minute. Zeth’rinn rolled his eyes. Idiot. One of his earrings had a mage hand in the gem—all it took was a tug and he had Fel’rekt by the waist-strap of the harness he’d just finished buckling on. Two good yanks brought him stumbling into the edge of the bed, forced to brace himself with both hands so as not to fall face-first into Zeth’rinn’s ass.
“So nice of you to join us,” Zeth’rinn said, smiling beatifically over his shoulder at Fel’rekt’s glare. “All dressed up and ready to go, I see.”
“Hell of an accessory,” Krebbyg said, giving the strap an admiring glance. Fel’rekt flushed and scrambled up onto the bed properly, putting Zeth’rinn between himself and Krebbyg’s gaze.
“Want to watch him fuck me with it?” Zeth’rinn asked.
“Just like that, no warm up?”
“You think I’m not warmed up?” He took Krebbyg’s hand and put it between his legs, humming contentedly as two fingers slid through an exploration of exactly how warm he already was.
“From one kiss?”
“From thinking about the two of you all the way over here.” Zeth’rinn rolled off of him and sat up. “Anyway, now that we’re all present and accounted for, there’s an important question for you to answer, new boy—who are you going down on first?”
“How much will you complain if it’s not you?”
“Hardly at all.”
“Yeah, right.” Krebbyg nodded to Fel. “Hold him.”
A familiar thrill danced through Zeth’rinn’s veins as Fel’rekt manhandled him to sit between his legs, an arm across his chest to pin him in place. He turned his head, palming Fel’s jaw to pull him into a kiss. “That’s five gold you owe me,” he whispered.
“Shut up,” Fel’rekt whispered back.
“What does he like?” Krebbyg asked, oblivious to their exchange. His hands were warm, thumbs pressing into the meat of Zeth’rinn’s thighs. He needn’t have had Fel act as a restraint; all he had to do was squeeze and Zeth’rinn would’ve turned into an obedient puddle.
“I like less talking and more my clit in your mouth,” he said. Krebbyg chuckled.
“Only way you talk less is if you’ve got something in your own mouth, and even then you’d find a way to keep running it.”
Zeth’rinn had a retort for that, really he did, but then soft lips wrapped around his clit and he gave up, simply sighing as Krebbyg sucked at his small, eager inches. Their joint hold on him drew his lust high and tight, and he moaned as Krebbyg’s tongue dipped low to plunge into the wetness gathered in his cunt. “Damn, that feels good.”
“Looks good, too,” Fel’rekt said, a little breathless. His eyes were locked on Krebbyg, following the shift of his lips, the flex of his tongue. His face, already flushed, darkened when Krebbyg looked up at him, pupils wide and hungry. Zeth’rinn smirked, the pleasure of being right very nearly outweighing the pleasure of being so expertly eaten out. Tongue deep in my cunt, and he only wants to eyefuck you. What’d I tell you, Lafeen?
Six inches from orgasm, Krebbyg stopped and sat up, ignoring Zeth’rinn’s litany of complaint at such inconsiderate behaviour. “Your turn, Fel.”
“I…” Fel’rekt shifted in place, hugging Zeth’rinn to him like a shield. “I don’t…”
Lolth’s bloody tits. “Oh, let him suck your strap, already.”
If Fel’rekt went any darker, he’d turn to obsidian. But he didn’t flee when Zeth’rinn shifted out of the way, just sat very still as Krebbyg wrapped his slick fingers around the base of the strap. He stroked it once, twice, streaking it with Zeth’rinn’s pleasure, then bent to take the tip in his mouth.
“Fuck,” Fel’rekt whispered, pressing both hands over his mouth. The sensation of the strap being sucked wasn’t exactly the same as a real mouth on you, Zeth’rinn knew that from experience, but it was pretty damn close. And he imagined it felt even better when the one doing the sucking was the man you’d been pretending you didn’t care about for the past few years.
If watching Krebbyg suck the clit-cock Lolth had granted him had been hot, watching him suck the artificial one he’d given Fel was doubly so. Krebbyg’s head bobbed without a hint of hesitation, leaving shiny smears of spit along its entire dark length. As he worked it, he reached up and took Fel’rekt’s wrist, tugging his hand over to set it on the back of his head. Though it visibly shook, Fel settled it in place, tangling his fingers in the short, snow-white curls.
Both of them, harness included. As if there’d ever been any doubt. Satisfied in that arena at least, Zeth’rinn stroked himself with lazy fingers while Krebbyg continued to give Fel’rekt the oral and eye fuck of his life, having apparently completely forgotten about the crucial third element of the threesome.
“Zeth’rinn, c’mere,” Fel’rekt said at length, finally tearing his gaze from Krebbyg’s.
“Oh, now he remembers I exist.”
“Don’t want you to start whining, is all.”
And he was getting in his head again, mental nerves outweighing the physical pleasure of Krebbyg’s touch. If Zeth’rinn hadn’t been there, he probably would’ve bolted with some weak excuse, leaving Krebbyg confused and frustrated—and not in the fun way.
So Zeth’rinn rejoined them, hoping the familiarity of his kiss would keep Fel grounded. He set his hand atop Krebbyg’s head, over Fel’rekt’s, pushing him down further than he’d gone before. He gagged—a sound that sent a shuddering pulse of lust through Zeth’rinn’s core—but didn’t fight it. Nose pressed to the straps of the harness and what few of Fel’rekt’s curls escaped around them, he kept his head down, hollowing his cheeks as he reached out with the other hand to fit his thick fingers into Zeth’rinn’s welcoming cunt.
Orgasm was inevitable at that point, and Zeth’rinn rode it with a deep-throated groan. Judging by the sounds spilling from Fel’s mouth, Krebbyg had brought him along for a similar ride almost simultaneously—the man was going up by leaps and bounds in Zeth’rinn’s estimations.
Krebbyg pulled off of Fel with a smack of lips that ought to have been illegal. “You going to tally those?”
“Why would I?” Zeth’rinn asked.
“Seems like the sort of thing you’d do.”
“If you wanted to play tally games, you should’ve said—I would’ve brought more toys. Ten’s the highest I’ve gone in a night, though you’re welcome to try and improve on that.”
Fel’rekt’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
“There are some fun people in Menzoberranzan, if you know where to look.”
“And how many turn you down because they already slept with your dad?”
Zeth’rinn made a face. “Could we not bring up my father mid-threesome?”
“Apt place to bring him, I’d have thought.”
“Will both of you shut up?” Krebbyg grumbled. “How do you ever manage to get a decent fuck out of each other if this is what you do when you’re naked in bed?”
“Some of us can multi-task. And speaking of which…” Zeth’rinn inserted himself between the two of them, knelt between four very fine thighs. “Since I arranged this evening of delights—”
“What delights?” Fel’rekt muttered.
“Krebbyg’s surprisingly skilful mouth, for one. As I was saying, since I very generously arranged all this, I’m claiming right of dual penetration.”
Krebbyg ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not a thing.”
“How many threesomes have you had?” Zeth’rinn smirked at the high flush that appeared on his cheeks. “Defer to the expert. By which I mean fuck me.” He dropped his gaze to Krebbyg’s cock, short and fat and hard and just begging to be sat on. “You can have first pick of holes, Krebbyg. Since you’re new to them.”
Krebbyg looked past him at Fel, equal parts embarrassed and exasperated. “Is he always like this?”
“Pretty much.”
Krebbyg sighed heavily, then took Zeth’rinn’s clit between thumb and forefinger, giving it a squeeze just the right side of painful. “Since I got it all worked up, only seems fair I get to see what it feels like.”
Zeth’rinn practically purred. He’d been hoping for that—he knew what the strap felt like, and a new sensation always trumped a familiar one. He shoved Krebbyg to his back, straddling him like he was mounting a riding lizard and taking his mouth in a deep kiss. His cunt pulsed at the feel of Krebbyg’s thick cock rubbing against its slick folds; he rocked back and forth as the head nudged at his entrance, teasing the tip just barely inside him. Krebbyg growled, but it wasn’t his hands that grabbed Zeth’rinn’s hips and pushed them down—it was Fel’s.
“Give a boy some warning!” Zeth’rinn gasped. The stretch was delicious, the kind of fullness he savoured. Krebbyg fucked up into him; shallow, testing thrusts that made him bite his lip for want of more—the swipe of Fel’rekt’s fingers through the slick arousal coating both his cunt and Krebbyg’s cock drew a moan from him that requested as such.
“What do you think I’m giving you, paperwork?” Fel’rekt said, circling a thumb over Zeth’rinn’s unoccupied hole.
“I did bring real oil, you know.”
“You’re wet enough,” Fel’rekt said, and Zeth’rinn hissed in pleasure as the thumb pressed into him. Fel didn’t tease much; it didn’t take much, honestly, and it wasn’t long before he was thrusting into Zeth’rinn’s ass, alternating with Krebbyg so that Zeth’rinn hardly had a second to catch his breath.
This was why he liked threesomes—and more—so much. The feel of so many hands on him, the different pitches of breath and curses merging over his own desperate panting…being the focal point of pleasure was a high like very little else.
But, pressed between the two of them, he couldn’t help but notice they had their hands on him, their eyes on each other, and hadn’t made a move towards anything resembling a kiss, despite the fact it would have been the appropriately erotic thing to do whilst fucking the same boy. They should have been messily making out whilst he writhed between them, yet instead he was subjected to Krebbyg’s adoring, starry-eyed stare fixated on Fel’rekt pounding into him—a fetching sight, to be sure, but starry staring was not what Zeth’rinn had finagled them here for.
This called for more drastic measures.
“Hm,” he said.
Fel’rekt snapped his hips. “What are you planning?”
“What makes you think I’m planning something?”
“Because that’s the noise you make when you’re planning something.”
“Well, maybe I am,” Zeth’rinn said. “Maybe I’m thinking I can take both of you.”
Krebbyg thrust up pointedly, hard enough to make him cry out. “You are taking both of us.”
“Not in one hole I’m not.”
“You really think you can manage that?”
“Ten gold says I can.” He couldn’t see Fel’rekt, but he could pretty much hear the eyeroll. “You doubt me? You of all people?”
“If you hurt yourself, you’re the one who has to tell the cleric how you broke your cunt,” Krebbyg said.
Zeth’rinn grinned. “Oh, the Bregan D’aerthe healers have heard worse from me.”
It took some finagling to find a decent position. He ended up on his back atop Krebbyg’s supportively muscular chest, impaled on his cock as Fel’rekt worked the strap in alongside it. Zeth’rinn fought to control his breathing, stretch and burn and desire and need warring inside him. He bit his lip over a whimper at Fel’s initial thrusts; even without Krebbyg moving at all, it was almost too much.
“You good?” Fel’rekt breathed against his ear. He was braced over them with one hand, the other controlling the strap to inch it deeper. Zeth’rinn nodded.
Krebbyg rocked his hips experimentally, and all three of them hissed at various pitches of arousal.
“Fuck,” Zeth’rinn said tightly, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Agreed,” said Krebbyg.
“More?” Fel’rekt asked.
Zeth’rinn opened his eyes. “Fuck yes.”
Their motions didn’t match, every thrust uneven as they struggled to find a pace. Shallow at first, frotting against one another inside him, each movement stretching him further, the sound of it—their gasps, their moans, their curses increasing in volume and decreasing in coherence—stoking his arousal until the stretch stopped and they were just fucking him, deep and easy.
“Fel, you…can you feel…” Krebbyg fought to get his words straight. “That strap, can you…?”
“Yeah,” Fel’rekt panted, shoving his hair back from his face. “I can feel everything.”
The arm Krebbyg had over Zeth’rinn’s chest tightened, and he had the feeling he was acting as a proxy for the drow beneath him wanting very badly to hold the drow atop him instead. Lolth hadn’t enough body parts for him to curse—their cocks were touching, was that not prompt enough to start kissing and admitting feelings already?
Fel’rekt’s hand, no longer needed to guide the strap, since it was freely pounding into him, moved to his clit, which stood proud and throbbing with need that burst from his throat in a high whine at the brush of fingers. Zeth’rinn’s frustration at his companion’s emotional ignorance dampened under the circles Fel made over the sweetly sensitive head of his clit. He swore unintelligibly as orgasm startled through him—he didn’t often wish he had a full cock, but he did right then; painting his stomach with two men inside him would have been a memory to savour for the rest of his days.
Still, he painted both of them plenty, his arousal coating them base to tip. Just a glance down at where they drove into him stole his breath away, and gods, the fucking sound they made…he forced himself to concentrate. He’d had a purpose with this act of deeply satisfying debauchery, and it was time to get back to it.
He glanced awkwardly back, finding Krebbyg’s attention still wholly on Fel’rekt, as moony mid-threesome as he’d been traipsing through Underdark tunnels. Enough was enough. Zeth’rinn reached up and pulled Fel’rekt into a kiss; Fel obliged, licking hungrily into his mouth.
“He’s only looking at you,” Zeth’rinn whispered against his lips. Fel’rekt blinked.
“What?”
“Stop asking stupid questions and kiss him already.”
“I—”
But Zeth’rinn was done with excuses. He gripped Fel’rekt by the back of his head, leaned out of the way as best he could, and shoved the idiot towards Krebbyg’s face.
Both of them made equally surprised noises as their lips met, which quickly dissolved into soft hums of pleasure as they figured out they were meant to be kissing, and all their other movement slowed to a stop. Krebbyg reached up to cup his palm to Fel’rekt’s cheek with such gentle reverence it was almost possible to forget they were both cock-deep in another man.
After a long, long—long, long—moment, they broke apart. Still neither of them moved, just staring at each other over Zeth’rinn as if he wasn’t there.
“That…” Krebbyg said, voice rough. He swallowed. Wet his lips. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
“Really?” Fel’rekt said.
“Mm.”
“But I’m…I’m not…”
Krebbyg kissed him again. “You’re perfect.”
“Fucking finally!” Both of them turned their attention back to Zeth’rinn as if they’d just remembered he existed. “Now that you idiots know you like each other, could you do me a favour and finish fucking my brains out?”
“How do you put up with this brat?” Krebbyg asked, taking hold of Zeth’rinn’s hips again to drive up into him, as Fel’rekt did similar.
“Fuck him long enough and it wraps around from annoying to kind of adorable.”
And Zeth’rinn would have raised objections to such slander, but found himself too busy being split in half to do anything as mentally taxing as form a sentence. Fel’s nails dug into his waist, breath hot on one side of his neck whilst Krebbyg sucked a vicious bruise into the other, and he wasn’t entirely sure whose fingers were toying with his clit, because they felt both thick and thin at the same time—maybe it was both of them, holding hands whilst they got him off. That seemed appropriately romantic.
Krebbyg came with a snap of hips and a broken growl; Zeth’rinn shuddered, imagining his release coating the strap inside him, slicking it as Fel continued to fuck him. His clit throbbed, a familiar tense heat building within him.
He flicked Fel’s nipple. “Race you.”
“Loser’s buying drinks.”
“Naturally.”
Someone’s fingers pressed at his cunt. Krebbyg’s, he thought; they were thick and insistent and inside him despite the fact he could’ve sworn there was no space left. The bed creaked, protesting Fel’rekt’s desperate pace, counterpoint to the blunt moans he drove from Zeth’rinn each time he bottomed out, and oh fuck, oh shit, he was buying the drinks—he came with a shout as Krebbyg’s fingers buried themselves knuckle deep in his overworked cunt.
“Not fair,” he gasped out, as Fel followed him with a sweet cry. “You had help. Cheater.”
“Oh, shut up,” Fel’rekt said.
One day he’d remember to put a prestidigitation earring on before having wild, sweaty, physically demanding sex. Tonight he had not, so the three of them lay tangled together for a good long while before any of them recovered the wherewithal to even roll off one another. Zeth’rinn sprawled over one side of the bed, aching and sticky, listening to Fel’rekt and Krebbyg kissing on and off, murmuring sweet nothings pitched too low to make out any of the no-doubt nauseatingly tender details.
Eventually, groaning all the while, Krebbyg got up and shuffled over to get the water jug and some washcloths from the dresser—Zeth’rinn pitied the poor maid or whosoever it was here that had to clean up after them, and made a vague mental note to leave a decently-full coinpurse of additional compensation before they left. Beside him, Fel’rekt rolled to his back with a sigh, looking rather as if someone had hit him over the head with a heavy object. Zeth’rinn poked his cheek.
“What now?” he grumbled.
“That’s fifteen gold you owe me.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m never not serious about a bet. And both of you owe me ten for taking you at the same time.”
Fel’rekt flopped an arm over his face. “Why are you the way that you are?”
“What’s he done now?” Krebbyg said as he returned to the bed, passing Fel a damp washcloth.
“Nothing new.”
“Hm,” said Krebbyg, not sounding wholly convinced. But he was either too exhausted or too freshly enamoured of being able to kiss Fel’rekt to press the point, because he didn’t say anything else and went back to making out with his new boyfriend. Zeth’rinn tucked his arms behind his head, closing his eyes with a smile.
Nothing like a good threesome to bring people together.