Chapter Twenty-One #3
He startled at being on his arms and knees without warning. It was far more exposing than anything that had come before, though he made no resistance to it. It didn’t matter much anymore.
“Look at those curves,” Varuut murmured, running a hand up the inside of Ethyr’s thigh.
He shivered at the touch. Gallus’s fingers brushed up his shoulders, his neck, and under his chin to lift it.
He tilted his head up, meeting the god’s soft, yearning gaze, and that alone burned desire deeper into the pit of his stomach.
When his thumb ran over Ethyr’s lips, he opened his mouth and let Gallus slip it inside.
“You’ve done quite a number on him.” Varuut’s fingers ran between his cheeks. His reaction was stifled by Gallus’s thumb in his mouth. “Are you sore, love?” He opened his legs in response.
Varuut gave his ass an affectionate squeeze before lining up. The promise of being filled again had him trembling like a newborn calf.
“Please,” he whimpered.
Ainder laughed. “Go on, Varuut, he’s desperate for it.”
She slid in with as much ease as Catocus. He bit down on Gallus’s thumb through reflex, muffling his loud moan. When Gallus pulled it from his mouth he looked up at him with guilty horror.
“I’m so sorry,” he choked out.
Gallus chuckled, cupping Ethyr’s chin. “No need. Feels good, huh?”
The question brought him back to the feel of Varuut in his ass. She was gentle, slow, but she’d enlarged herself to stuff him to capacity.
“Yes,” he breathed, rolling back against her thrusts.
The friction of Ethyr bumping over his lap while Catocus had fucked him had made Gallus hard, but he didn’t seem to care, instead enjoying his front-row seat to Ethyr’s pleasure.
Ethyr slid his hand under Gallus’s skirt and wrapped it around his erection.
The god hummed, burying his hand in Ethyr’s curls. “You are a fast learner.”
“This I’ve done plenty,” Ethyr murmured, but the confession spoken out loud burned his cheeks and memories of Mikel burned his mind. He couldn’t stand the clash of confusing emotions that came with it. He ducked down and took Gallus into his mouth.
The god groaned his approval, the hand in his hair becoming clenching.
Ethyr dipped lower, getting another long, pleased moan.
Eliciting noises of pleasure from a god tingled proud satisfaction up his spine, but better was the feeling of being filled from both ends.
This was what he wanted: to be so full there was no room for thought or memory or anything other than cocks grinding in and out of him.
Then Varuut’s next thrust hit a spot that hollowed out his stomach and made stars burst behind his eyes. He choked on Gallus and either for fear of being bitten or concern for Ethyr, Gallus pulled himself out of his mouth. Ethyr barely registered it, gasping into the floor.
“Oh,” Varuut said with satisfied calm. “There it is.” Each pitch that filled him struck that same spot, and Ethyr lost his every sense to delirious ecstasy.
The burning in his hips took over every inch of his body, curling his toes and rending his thoughts into minuscule pieces that scattered across the floor of his sanity.
Varuut went harder, merciless, holding Ethyr’s hips in place while she railed against him.
Ethyr thought it was Gallus’s arms that he dug his nails into, but truly he didn’t know.
Nothing existed beyond the sensation of being hit there, there, there, and the overwhelming pleasure that strangled every nerve in his body to a suffocation that was euphoric.
He could feel it building and yet there was nothing to build, no higher point he could reach in his throes of ecstasy.
He was only thrumming, throbbing pleasure.
It overtook him in violent, shuddering waves, swelling from the confines of his body and spilling out. When Varuut released his hips he sank to the floor with a spent groan, chest heaving. It took another minute for the black vision and sparks to fade, and even once it did he still felt dizzy.
Gallus leaned over him and rained soft kisses onto his face.
“Tired out?” he asked. Ethyr nodded, not opening his eyes.
Gallus chuckled, combing his fingers through his hair.
Someone laid a blanket over him. Close by, Ethyr could hear the conspicuous sounds of Catocus fucking Ainder.
Gallus lifted Ethyr’s head to rest in his lap and exhaustion stole the rest of the night.
The room was quiet. Gallus’s lap had been replaced with a cushion, the blanket remained draped over him, but the room was empty of life. Most of the candles had died out. Dawn spilled through the windows, but they were too high to offer more than gray, ambient light at the floor.
Ethyr’s swallow raked down a dry throat. He pushed himself up, arms still weak, and grabbed the water pitcher off the table to gulp straight from its contents, then dropped his arms into his lap.
His ass burned. Every shift of weight hurt somewhere new.
He looked around the room. It felt so big and cold when it was empty.
There was no light, no laughter, no quiet sounds of movement or their affectionate, jabbing jests to each other.
But what did it matter? Even when he was among them, he wasn’t really part of it, he wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t any less alone.
His stomach growled. The feast on the table was hardly touched.
He pulled a cold slice of roasted meat from a plate and ate it with slow vacuity, staring forward.
The world blurred and heat stung his eyes.
He didn’t stop chewing as the tears fell, letting them soak his cheeks and pool in the crevices of his lips, trickling into his mouth when he ate the last bite and tasting the salt alongside the meat.
He gathered his scattered clothing and dressed, shaking under his own weight and wincing when he stretched too far.
He dried his face and drank some more water.
He just needed a hot bath. A hot bath and a warm meal, that’s what he told himself.
He’d feel better then. He ignored the pit in his stomach that knew otherwise, shoved the gnawing ache in his chest away, and braced himself to face Poyut and walk through the temple.