Chapter Text
“Ragar, stop.” Raizel reached out with a gentle hand to halt him. His gaze sofly drifted down to Frankenstein’s eyes, blown wide open. “You must take care to observe him to tell when he will come.” He smiled with signature tenderness. “And then to deny him from doing so.”
Ragar sighed almost audibly, which was a rare treat. “Why must we do this—why withhold what he wants?”
“Because that is precisely what he desires. Frankenstein is fulfilled not only by physical release, but he enjoys, as you enjoy, a good effort and has graciously entrusted himself to us.”
“Indeed, you speak wisely, Sir Raizel.”
Beneath them, legs wrapped around Ragar’s waist and wrists pinned by Raizel’s hands, Frankenstein closed his eyes and shuddered. He moaned pleadingly through the ball gag in his mouth. Drool had long dripped through the pattern of holes in the gag and wet his chin. There was something animal about it: being able to voice his pleasure but not allowed any words; drool was inevitable and uncontrollable with this type of gag. It was made specifically to make a mess of people.
His cock and hips twitched, and he attempted to grind against Ragar to resume the mounting heat and pleasure, but could not finish himself. Achingly, he wished to reach down and pleasure himself until completion, but his wrists could only slightly twist in Raizel’s firm and warm hold.
“You may continue,” Raizel said, and Ragar complied.
They went on for some time, Raizel on careful watch and prompting Ragar as he deemed appropriate. Then, he leaned down to place a kiss on Frankentein’s forehead, one to comfort him through his heated effort and long forgotten composure. The ball gag was wet and shined as Raizel removed it. He lifted Frankenstein’s head slightly, tilting it back, and ran a thumb over his eager and glistening lips. Frankenstein’s mouth easily opened for him when he thrusted into his throat.
Looking down, he could see the effort in Frankenstein’s throat around him. “You are doing well,” Raizel praised as Frankenstein struggled to breathe and squirmed. “Perhaps we will let you come if you are dutiful with your mouth, Frankenstein.”
He made an obedient sound, both strained and loving, tongue moving in pleasing ways as he swallowed around Raizel. He was being fucked both ways.
Above him, Raizel leaned forward and extended a hand, drawing Ragar’s attention and face towards him. He kissed him wetly as best as he could through the mask Ragar religiously wore.
Raizel was always uncountably gentle and accepting, Ragar thought. No one matched his grace even in such indecorous activities, or perhaps especially in such activities. “Finish in him and watch him squirm for you, Ragar,” Raizel told him.
Raizel may have been no one’s master but Frankenstein’s, but he was Ragar’s Noblesse, and as such, his authority was still absolute. He was reserved, quiet, and for a long time, distant. To be in Raizel’s company was an occasion reserved only for those deserving or those executed. But here Ragar was, intimately close with two people who were arguably the closest things to those gods dreamt up by humans. He was honored by their company.
Ragar thrusted sharply, and Frankenstein’s chest rose and fell as he made what sounds he could and trembled with electrifying and undoing gratification. When Ragar came, he did watch as Raizel bid him to do. Frankenstein shook and fell weak with it, his cock dripping as much as his mouth.
“You know his pleasure well, Sir Raizel,” Ragar said, tugging at his mask. He sighed, content.
Raizel smiled softly, demurely, and with a hint, just a hint, of pride, like he had just shared a vastly interesting secret with a close friend. He looked to Frankenstein again. “You are twitching so much, Frankenstein, and are so wet. Do you wish to come that much?”
“Mmn!” Frankenstein huffed, mouth still full. He arched a little towards Raizel.
“Swallow, Frankenstein, and then you may come for us.” As Ragar backed away, Raizel leaned forward until he supported himself with one arm over Frankenstein. His free hand, he grasped and squeezed and stroked that all too pleading cock. When Raizel decided he would come, he placed his own mouth on him, sucking at the glans as he filled Frankenstein’s mouth and throat.
Frankenstein diligently swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut and moaning, on the verge of choking, as cum slid down his throat, though some managed to escape him. His hips jerked towards Raizel once or twice, and he too came, pleasured cries muffled by cock and cum. He coughed and breathed in lungfuls of air when Raizel lifted off of him. It was a short while before he found his words again. “Thank you,” he rasped. “Thank you…” It seemed as if those were the only words he could find.
Raizel smiled sweetly.
Ragar bowed respectfully and went to fetch a couple of warm, damp towels and a small pail of hot water.
While Frankenstein was an impressive man who knew how to imitate most noble abilities, he was still anatomically human with human dispositions towards sex. Naturally, he came when he was pleasured enough and begged when he was desperate enough. And when he was done, he was spent.
Ragar and Raizel, on the other hand, were nobles, and nobles had no need to reproduce sexually, as such, sex was more performative—an imitation of what was human—but pleasure was pleasure, and they had the necesarry facilities to experience it too. They were not ‘brought’ to orgasm, however, but rather it was a conscious and intentional action, as much as it was to stand up or sit down, or walk or run. It was pleasing, but they were not spent, per se, as there was nothing to spend.
As such, after such activities, Ragar and Raizel took it upon themselves to comfort and clean Frankenstein as much he needed to be, as this was one of the rare occasions Frankenstein allowed this. Ragar returned, his mask taken off for washing later, with the water and towels as Raizel was brushing Frankenstein’s hair out of his face and kissing him as lightly as newly falling rain on this quiet, quiet night.
“Thank you, Ragar.” Raizel nodded as he was handed a towel.
They both tended to Frankenstein with care. Another night, mundane and lulling, passed them by.