Chapter Twelve #3
He squeezed his eyes shut, gasping. It was nothing at all like his own fingers.
The pressure was disconnected and satiating—and farther reaching.
His clenched muscles didn’t prevent Gallus from filling him to his knuckles.
He pulled out and started again with more oil.
This time when he was all the way in, Gallus ducked down and took Ethyr into his mouth.
Ethyr’s breath hitched. Gallus’s skillful tongue moved as expertly as his fingers inside him and Ethyr dug his nails into his palms, unable to get purchase on anything else with his hands still pinned above his head.
Pathetic whimpers escaped between his harried gasps.
Then Gallus lowered, taking all of him, sucking and thrusting harder, and Ethyr disintegrated into whimpering moans in minutes.
He was in shambles. The satisfying weight of Ainder sitting on top of him mixed with Gallus’s skill drove into him a craving for pleasure he’d never felt before.
“P-please….” he panted, unable to help it. The delight of the gods was quiet, but unmistakable. Gallus’s mouth and hands disappeared. Ethyr sank, panting and disappointed. His wrists and legs were released, and Ainder slid off him, leaving him exposed and bare on the cold floor.
“Let me do it,” Varuut whined. “How long has it been since we’ve had a fresh one?” Ethyr blinked at her, disoriented and stupid with a desire he couldn’t name.
“No,” Gallus and Gnaeus said at the same time.
Ainder gestured and Ithna lifted a cushion from the floor and handed it over.
He pulled at Ethyr’s hips and it took him a second to understand before he lifted them.
The cushion was stuck under the small of his back.
He sank onto it, shifting a little to settle into place, eyes locked on Ainder as he took a bottle off the table.
His long tunic vanished, fully exposing the god’s well-sculpted curves. Ethyr’s heart picked up again at the visible abs and gorgeously defined thighs. He had hair the same as any human might, the dark trail of it from his belly button an enticing adornment to his olive skin.
Ainder poured oil into his palm and prepared himself. Then he spread Ethyr’s thighs and positioned himself between them.
The reality of the situation hit him then, like a bucket of ice water in winter. He was about to be fucked. By a god. In a room full of gods.
“Wait!” Ethyr choked out. Ainder paused, looking down at him with gentle concern. The dashed anticipation of the room was palpable. Ethyr’s breaths came shuddering and shallow. He couldn’t get any other words past his stopped-up throat. Ainder didn’t move, watching him expectantly.
Ethyr held out his arms, a bit desperately. A slow grin softened Ainder’s expression. He lowered, adjusting his torso to fit against Ethyr’s, and Ethyr hugged his shoulders. Their breaths bumped their chests together, though Ethyr’s rose and fell more rapidly than Ainder’s.
“I have you,” Ainder murmured into his ear. “You’ll be okay.”
Ethyr pressed his face into Ainder’s neck and nodded. Despite looking like a statue, his body was warm against Ethyr’s, muscles supple under his squeezing arms and clinging hands. Ainder reached down between them to line up, fingers prodding a little to find his place. Ethyr squeezed tighter.
“Just breathe,” Ainder said. And guided himself in.
He went slow, but the pressure was more filling than fingers. Ethyr exhaled a strained moan.
“Breathe through it,” Ainder instructed, gripping Ethyr’s hip to hold him in place. Ethyr forced a deep inhale, and it took the same effort to get it back out. It caught in his throat anyway with a pitched cry as Ainder hit deeper. He buried the last few notes until they were flush together.
Ethyr breathed, as instructed, clutching Ainder’s shoulders and keeping his face buried against his neck. The hand on his hip caressed up his side, over his shoulder, combing into his hair. Ainder’s breath in his ear was soft and calm.
The hand drifted back down and wrapped around his back, hugging Ethyr tight to his chest so they were skin-to-skin from head to hip.
Ethyr had stopped subconsciously fighting the solidity inside him, so Ainder slid out a notch and thrust gently back in.
He eased into a steady rhythm, building a friction that had Ethyr gasping with every lunge, until he found himself rocking instinctively into the movement, wanting to feel him even deeper.
The arm under him slithered out and he was laid onto the cold floor, much to his dismay. He wanted Ainder’s warmth wrapped around him, engulfing him. Instead, Ainder propped his torso up, breaking the close contact that had been Ethyr’s rock.
“I’m going bigger,” he said in warning, but Ethyr had no idea what that meant until he felt the swell inside him, stuffing him to capacity once more. He hadn’t even realized he’d loosened.
He gasped, digging his fingers hard into Ainder’s arms. The god didn’t notice, or didn’t care.
He plunged into Ethyr and, with the new width and length, struck a chord that ripped a delirious cry from Ethyr’s throat and curled his toes.
Ainder rammed harder and Ethyr moaned senselessly, letting him go to claw at the ground, desperate for a hold on something steady.
A vicious heat curled up his spine and drove every thought from his head except one.
More.
He bucked into Ainder’s movements even as his tired muscles twitched with violent pleasure.
Whatever angle Ainder was hitting burst ecstasy into his stomach with every thrust. He gasped for breath between the involuntary cries falling from his lips, reduced to nothing but the shivering burn that had taken over his body.
He felt it building, but his climax still took him by surprise, slamming into him like the waterfall crashing into the river, ripping pleasure mercilessly from every nerve in his body.
He dropped like a sack of grain onto the floor. At least awareness of something other than his own body had returned. He welcomed the cooling stone beneath him, his trembling limbs uncomfortably warm and dripping with sweat.
“Why did you finish him?” Catocus demanded.
Right. He was here. Ethyr opened his eyes and looked up at Ainder.
The god smiled like a cat with cream. “How could I stop? He was having such a good time.”
“I thought it was perfect,” Varuut said, clapping her hands together. “The way he shuddered and arched…” She sighed dreamily.
Ethyr pulled himself up on shaking muscles, face warm from more than exertion.
But really, more than anything, he wanted a wash.
Ainder hadn’t even broken a sweat. Ethyr wondered if gods could sweat.
But they could cum, so… His face burned as he tucked his shaking legs against himself in a futile attempt at modesty.
“Let me guess,” Catocus sighed. “We need to let him rest.”
“Catocus,” Ithna clicked. He shot her an annoyed look. “Stick your cock somewhere else.”
“I have been!” he groaned.
Varuut laughed. “Oh, here.” She straddled Catocus’s lap and wasted no time mounting him. Ethyr turned his eyes away.
“Ainder,” Gallus beckoned, arms out. Ainder washed back a goblet of wine before crawling over.
Ethyr faced the table, dragging his tunic onto his lap to semi-cover up.
Though he wasn’t bothered by his nudity so much as by the wreck that had been made of his body.
A growing ache was taking over the emptiness Ainder had left, gentle as he’d been, and Ethyr was certain every twinge and burn he felt was visible on his face. He reached for a cup of wine.
“Here.” Langath passed him a paper as though that was what he’d been reaching for.
“What do you think?” It was a beautifully rendered sketch of him and Ainder intertwined, Ainder’s face hidden behind his neck while his own was surprisingly calm, though open-mouthed and brow furrowed.
But it was clear from his desperate clutching that serenity was not the mood of the situation.
His cheeks and ears burned. It was one thing to know everything had been seen, it was another to know exactly how it had looked from the outside.
Despite being covered by Ainder he was still the more visible, arms wrapped around Ainder’s shoulders and knees bent to either side of him, hips pushed provocatively up by the pillow below them.
“I’ll capture your climax one day,” she said, casual as could be, and took the paper back. “It’s just a bit difficult, with how quickly it passes.”
He tucked his chin, thoroughly burning, and not in the good way he had just been. He nursed his wine and listened to the tandem sounds of Gallus and Varuut being fucked. What he didn’t want to admit, humiliated even admitting it to himself, was that he would have gladly taken their places.