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If Zedaph said he didn’t know when it started, that would be a lie.
Perhaps the thoughts were always there in the back of his mind, or whenever he started to enjoy this… stuff… was blurry. But that’s not important. What is important is that he can remember the precise moment that inspired an ever-expanding series of increasingly explicit, very vivid, fantasies.
Of course, it all started with Tango. Zedaph had been lost in the Nether, stuck soaring down the seemingly endless maze of tunnels the other Hermits had built, and nearly stabbed the blaze-hybrid when he appeared out of seemingly thin air.
—
Zedaph scratched his head, staring down at the messy map in his hand. Wasn’t this supposed to be that intersection? But that biome’s nowhere near here. Wait, didn’t someone move their nether portal yesterday?
“Ugh!” He exclaimed. “This is unbelievable! You would think we would-”
A hand grabbed his shoulder.
He screamed, swinging his sword out blindly until he caught a glimpse of glowing red eyes. Tango easily disarmed him, knocking the blade to the ground and cackling.
“Tango! I nearly killed you, don’t do that!” Zedaph yelped.
Tango bent over, slapping his knee. “HA! You should’ve seen your face! That was incredible, I can’t wait to tell Impulse.” He wiped a tear away dramatically, a strand of golden hair falling from its gelled position as he stood back up.
Zedaph pouted. “Now, I don’t think that’s very fair. Here I am, flying around like a bat in a cave with no exit, and then you scare me like that as well. Ridiculous.” He went to go pick up his sword, but Tango stepped close, blocking his path.
“Aw, is poor little Zeddy lost? All alone, with no way out?” He spoke in a baby-ish voice, clearly teasing.
Zedaph stuttered. “I–I mean, I guess?”
Tango moved closer, crowding him against the hot netherrack. His voice lowered, still teasing. “That’s such a shame, can’t even use a map properly, can you?”
Zedaph told himself that his flush was from the Nether’s heat. “Well, I wouldn’t say that, the hub is always confusing-”
“You knew I was on the server. Were you going to ask me for help, or just wander until you were desperate enough to ask for directions?” Hot breath whispered against his ear. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you like that, you know.”
What.
—
After pointing out that Zedaph’s map was outdated, handing him his sword, and leaving, it quickly became clear that Tango had oh-so-rudely cemented himself in first place on Zedaph’s ‘Hot Things List’. And that wouldn’t necessarily be an issue - Zedaph had zero complaints with Tango or Impulse being flirty with him - except for three things.
One: Zedaph has never paid much mind to the more extreme or kinky sides of sex. He doesn’t find it gross or scary, it just never really occurred to him as something that he could participate in. He enjoyed sex, for sure, and Impulse and Tango were both great in bed. However, those sorts of activities weren’t typically at the forefront of his mind.
Two: Note the ‘typically’ in the last sentence. Sex and all adventurous adaptations of it were typically not his main focus. Then Tango went and screwed that all up, and Zedaph couldn’t sleep for approximately four days after the incident. He couldn’t even articulate at first what it was about the situation that made him so flustered, all he knew was that Tango called him ‘Zeddy’ and he forgot how to speak.
Three: It didn’t end there.
—
“HAHA! I got your shulker box, what are you going to do now, book boy?” Zedaph shook a purple shulker above his head.
Impulse was preparing for the shift to the new shopping district, which meant that he was reorganizing all of his stock, and that meant that shulker boxes and chests were strewn everywhere around Impulse’s house. On the floor, out on the lawn, Zedaph even saw some on the ceiling. He wasn’t hypocritical enough to give Impulse grief for the mess.
However.
Zedaph couldn’t resist the urge to get in the way, to give Impulse just a bit of a headache, and so he waited until there was only one shulker box yet to be filled with books - and grabbed it.
Now he was currently standing at the top of the stairs, and possibly regretting his decision once he saw the look on Impulse’s face.
“Zedaph, please. Can I have that?” Impulse sighed.
He grinned - “Nope!” - and slid down the banister on the staircase, hopping off the end and searching for a place to hide. Quickly, quickly…There!
He spotted a nook behind the stairs right as Impulse descended, and dove for cover. It was small, there wasn’t quite enough space for both him and the shulker, so he shuffled until he could place it and sit on the lid. He held a hand over his mouth, praying that Impulse hadn’t heard or seen his movement.
“Zedaph, where are you?” Impulse called. He stepped carefully around the room, opening some of the emptier chests and peeking under tables. As he paced around, he eventually ended up with his back turned directly in front of the man he was looking for.
Zedaph froze. He didn’t dare move a muscle. It was all fun and games at the end of the day, but hiding like this, slivers of fear and anticipation working through his stomach… he almost didn’t want the game to end.
But the end was the best part.
He furrowed his eyebrows. Where had that thought come from? Him and Impulse didn’t joke around like this very often, and there was no reason that he should be getting this excited for the rush of getting caught doing something. It’s just… knowing that eventually, Impulse would catch him, and would tease him, and would want to give him a punishment–
The shulker creaked.
Impulse stilled. And, ever-so-slowly, turned until he was staring right at Zedaph. “Well, what do we have here?”
His grin was sharp, and Zedaph wondered how he had ever thought that Impulse was anything less than dangerous. “I got your–your shulker, heh,” he laughed nervously.
Impulse closed the gap, walking until the toes of their shoes were just barely touching. “I can see that.”
Was his gaze usually that intense, that dark? Or was it just Zedaph’s imagination? “Yeah, so, what are you going to do about it?”
Impulse tilted his head down. He gulped.
“Well, I was thinking that you might want to be good for me right now.” A hand reached out, smoothing down his lab coat. “Given how much trouble you’re causing me, I figured it would be… beneficial… for both of us, if you gave me my shulker back. Do you want to be good for me right now?”
His words echoed in Zedaph’s head. Do you want to be good for me right now. He loved rebelling, loved challenging norms, loved fixing one problem and creating two more. He only got in this situation in the first place by being a nuisance. But dear void, he would strip himself bare and jump into a pool of lava right then if Impulse asked him to.
He couldn’t speak. He didn’t even know if he could stand up right then. He simply nodded, letting Impulse lift him off of the box with an amused expression, and braced himself against the staircase.
Picking up the shulker, Impulse looked him up and down with a glint in his eye, and raised an eyebrow. “Are you okay?”
Perhaps his predicament was more obvious than Zedaph thought. Or maybe Impulse just knew his tells. Either way, he didn’t think he could express his current feelings in any way that was coherent or accurate, even if he wanted to. His brain was already incomprehensible enough on the best of days.
Zedaph nodded again. “Yeah,” he said faintly. He swallowed, attempting to stand up straighter. “Yeah, I’m golden, never been better, in fact.”
Impulse’s eyebrow drifted closer to his hairline, but he mercifully chose not to comment on the blatant lie. Instead, he moved to the foot of the stairs and placed a rough hand on Zedaph’s shoulder. “Oh, and Zed?”
He glanced curiously at him. “Yes?”
Impulse leaned in. “Good boy.”
—
There was no way Impulse didn’t know what he had done to Zedaph. There was no way he didn’t notice how Zedaph’s brain got all scrambled the second he stood over him, grinned like a wolf after a successful hunt, and asked him to be good.
Perhaps these two occasions could be excused. Maybe if it only happened once or twice, Zedaph could give Tango and Impulse the benefit of the doubt.
Except it didn’t only occur once. No, it happened constantly.
Zedaph getting worked up over a difficult project, Impulse placing a tight grip on the back of his neck, and him melting.
Him and Tango tussling, Tango pinning him to the ground, and him having to pretend he wasn’t half-hard for the next half an hour.
For goodness’ sake, Tango even smacked his bottom once while he was searching through a chest, and he stood up so fast he got lightheaded.
They clearly knew something was going on, neither of the two were usually half this flirty, and at this point they had been teasing him for months. Zedaph was almost ashamed to admit quite how much it was working.
He was beginning to wonder how he had ever gone about his day without fantasizing of Impulse shoving him to his knees and calling him a good boy, or of Tango edging him until he’s begging, or both of them together moving inside him until he cries.
Zedaph’s horny, void damnit, and the slowly-building fire inside of him only keeps being fed.
—
It all comes to a head on the nicest day they’ve had for weeks.
The sun is shining, the chickens are squawking, and Zedaph doesn’t think he can even face Impulse or Tango right now without blushing. He had a… rather intense dream last night, and his legs still get weak every time he thinks about it. Which is often.
Unfortunately – or fortunately, he supposes – he is just positioning one of his trophies on his boulder when both of them approach him.
“Hey, Zed!” Tango shouts, Impulse waving next to him.
Oh, void, that shirt fits Impulse well. He could probably easily pick me up. And throw me against a wall. Zedaph shakes his head to clear his thoughts, gulping. “Uh - hey, guys. How are you?” He says stiffly, dragging his eyes from Impulse’s arms.
“We’re good, we’re good,” Tango replies. Zedaph can hear the smile in his voice. “How’s the boulder doing?”
They chat about their various projects for a while, Impulse complaining about the wither skeleton farm and Tango about the amount of resources he needed for the Nether hub. Zedaph mostly listens, too distracted to properly focus on the conversation.
His quietness is clearly noticed by the other two, as eventually Tango speaks up. “Hey, you doing alright?” His voice is unusually soft, and laced with concern. “It’s looking like our words are going in one ear and out the other. What’s knocking around in your head right now?”
“Yeah, you seem a little distant,” Impulse agrees. “Is everything okay?”
Damn. Zedaph didn’t mean to make them worry about him. He just… how does someone tell their boyfriends that they’ve been plagued by vivid sexual fantasies for weeks? It’s embarrassing, to be completely clear, and he doesn’t have a clue how to even begin broaching the subject.
Zedaph lifts his head from where he’s been studying the ground and meets Impulse’s eyes, intending to simply keep denying his distractedness. As soon as they make eye contact, however, he knows it’s game over for him - he’s never been able to lie to Impulse’s face, or at least not well. Glancing over at Tango is no help either.
“I’ve been having. Thoughts.” Zedaph blurts out staggeredly, immediately turning bright red.
For just a moment, both of his boyfriends’ brows furrow in confusion. Eventually though, Tango must notice something in his posture or expression as his eyes widen, then squint into a small smile that sets Zedaph’s nerves on edge.
When Tango talks, his voice is smug. “What kind of thoughts?”
The question is simple, and totally reasonable, but all confidence Zedaph might have once had has left the stratosphere. He can only muster up a, “Y’know. Thoughts. About things.”
“What type of things?” Tango pries.
His palms have never been sweatier. “Um, like. Physical things? I guess.”
At this point, Impulse seems to have finally caught on, and knocks Tango upside the head.
Tango yelps. “What was that for?” He scowls, rubbing the back of his head.
Impulse ignores him. “Zed, do you want to have this conversation in a more comfortable or private place?” he asks calmly. “If you don’t want to keep talking about this at all, we can also easily talk about something else, or Tango and I could give you some space.”
Huh. This is not how Zedaph thought this conversation was going to go at all, and it’s only just started. He studies both of the men in front of him carefully, noting the shame on Tango’s face and the openness on Impulse’s.
He makes a decision.
Taking a deep breath and wiping his hands on his lab coat, Zedaph speaks shakily. “I can, um. I’m good to talk about this. We can - can we do this at your place, Impulse?”
Impulse smiles warmly, and offers up a hand. “Shall we?”
He takes another deep breath, and takes it. On his other side, Tango grabs his free hand. Neither of them say anything about his clammy palms, only holding on firmly as they make their way over to Impulse’s combined shop and base.
A cozy space has been made on the upper floor, with a mossy rug and a plush sofa, and they all sit once they reach it - Impulse on Zedaph’s left, Tango on his right, and Zedaph himself in the middle. They only sit in uncomfortable silence for a moment before Zedaph kicks his shoes off and curls his feet up onto the couch, breaking the tension.
After a pointed look from Impulse, Tango’s the one to begin. “I guess I should start off with an apology for pushing back there. I don’t know exactly what your ‘thoughts’ have been, but I have no right to need that information, as long as you aren’t putting yourself or someone else in danger. This is clearly a personal subject, and you should get to decide what to tell us when.” He stares at the floor while he talks, but looks at Zedaph once he’s done.
Zedaph isn’t sure how to reply. Tango’s tone is so serious, his truthfulness evident in his words. Impulse has always been on their case about “healthy communication”, and even though Zedaph doesn’t really see anything wrong with what Tango did… he does feel more comfortable now, and he doesn’t want to dismiss Tango’s sincerity.
They had dropped their hands when they sat down, and Zedaph reaches over to grab Tango’s hand again. “That’s alright, I don’t feel hurt or offended by what you did, but I do still appreciate your apology.”
Tango hums in gratefulness and raises their clasped hands, kissing the back of Zedaph’s hand softly.
“And I have to say, my legs were getting kind of sore on my boulder, so I’m glad for Impulse’s intervention either way.”
A wheezing laugh erupts from Tango, making Impulse start chuckling, which then causes Zedaph to laugh bewilderedly.
“Oh my void–only you, Zed. Only you,” Tango says.
Once the three of them settle down, Impulse picks the conversation back up. “Now, going back to what started this - you said you’ve been having thoughts, can you tell me what they’re about? Or anything about them?”
The reminder of why he’s here in the first place slams into Zedaph like a ravager. He’s actually doing this. He’s actually talking to Tango and Impulse about his… desires. Is this a dream?
He subtly pinches himself. Not a dream.
When Zedaph hesitates, Impulse continues. “We can pause or stop at any point, and like Tango said, you decide what to tell us when.”
“No, no - it’s okay, I just don’t really know where to start?” Zedaph pauses, thinking. “It’s nothing bad, not really, don’t worry about that,” he hurriedly adds after he remembers their initial concern.
“Well, maybe we could ask some questions about these thoughts, and you can answer them as much as you want to?” Tango suggests, leaning onto the armrest with Zedaph’s hand still held in between the two of them.
Zedaph agrees quickly. He has no clue what either of them would find interesting or important about his issue, and this strategy saves him from picking it apart by himself.
“Okay, then,” Impulse starts. “When did these thoughts start? How long have you been having them?”
He flushes, and squeezes Tango’s hand briefly. “Um, a month or two, I think?”
Tango takes a turn. “Was there something that prompted them, or made them start appearing?”
Oh boy. “I–um–yeah.” Zedaph takes a deep breath. This won’t work if he isn’t completely honest with them. “Tango, do you remember that day in the Nether a while ago? When I was lost, and almost killed you when you jump-scared me?”
Tango’s silent for a moment, before raising an eyebrow slightly. “I do. Do you want to tell me what about that situation made you start having these thoughts?”
Tango’s voice is steady, with a slight rasp, and his hand is warm and calloused. Impulse is solid and relaxed, softly humming every so often. They are both next to him, and they are both respectful and understanding and ridiculous.
Zedaph takes comfort and grounds himself with these facts as he speaks.
“You called me Zeddy.” The first shoe falls. “You called me Zeddy, and you teased me for getting lost, and you said that you wouldn’t mind seeing me beg you for directions.”
He can hear both of his boyfriends inhale quietly. When Tango speaks, it seems raspier than it was before. “And were you - did that make you uncomfortable?”
“No, I–” he pauses. “I liked it.” The other shoe crashes down next to the first.
Impulse speaks up with a strained voice. He almost sounds amazed. “You–you liked it. What about it did you like?”
Zedaph could stop now. He could ask for a break, to sit outside for a moment by himself.
Except it feels good to get this off his chest. And his boyfriends are being so kind, and they’re both sitting there, holding his hands, and Impulse had sounded chunks away from being grossed out or disturbed.
He finds that his next words are a little easier to get out than the last ones.
“I liked that Tango pinned me to the wall when he said it. I liked that he called me a nickname, that he made fun of me.” He swallows, and looks Tango in the eye. “I liked that he said he wanted me to beg.”
Tango looks wrecked. His eyes are dark, and his lips are parted and shiny from where he just licked them. “Zed,” he says roughly. “Has there been anything else that prompted these… thoughts?”
Zedaph exhales, and when he tells them about hiding, about being called a good boy, he makes direct eye contact with Impulse.
He’s no more put together than Tango is.
“Zed, can I kiss you?” Impulse rushes out.
The instant Zedaph agrees, Impulse cups one hand behind his ear and kisses him. Impulse’s mouth is hot and damp, the way he licks at his bottom lip stealing the breath from Zedaph’s lungs and making him pant. Impulse’s other hand makes its way to his leg, sliding slowly down from his knee and resting on his upper thigh. At the same time, Tango presses close behind him and kisses the back of his neck.
It’s overwhelming in all the right ways, and Zedaph actually feels a bit faint, but he can’t help but want more.
“Please - Tango, Impulse–” he moans.
“What do you want, sweetheart?” Impulse mutters against his lips.
“I-” Zedaph’s breath hitches as Tango bites lightly on the side of his neck. “Oh my void, please, I want you to do all of those things again. I want you to call me names and taunt me and make me desperate for you, please,” he rambles.
He thinks he hears Tango actually growl behind him before pressing even closer. “We can most certainly do that. I can’t help but notice, however, that you seem pretty desperate already. Are we not doing enough for you, Zeddy?”
Zedaph doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on in his life. “Oh my void, please, I want more, I want you to fuck me, I want you to make me come until I’m crying-”
There’s a muffled, “Holy shit,” from one of the two other men, and he’s definitely going to have some gorgeous bruises on his thigh from how hard Impulse is grabbing him right now.
That mental image alone is enough to make him shudder, except then Impulse shifts his grip so he’s clutching Zedaph’s hips instead and lifts him up into his lap.
Listen. They’ve had sex before. Zedaph knows that Impulse is strong. But having those two things combined like this makes him moan absurdly loud, and he finds that there isn’t even the slightest room for his previous anxiety when he feels how hard Impulse is beneath him.
Tango creeps up behind the pair, resting his hands on Zedaph’s waist, and taunts him. “Aw, did you like that, Zeddy? Like being manhandled and tossed around like a little toy? Isn’t that precious, Impy?”
Impulse groans into Zedaph’s mouth. “Oh, such a cute little thing, look at him, falling apart in our hands,” he says, grabbing slim hips and coaxing them into a messy grind on top of him. “Doesn’t even have his pants off, and I bet he could come right now, just from us talking to him.”
Zedaph doesn’t disagree - his entire body feels like it’s been lit on fire, and he’s barely been touched. However, his lower stomach burns the brightest, and a very specific place is currently begging to have a hand on it. He would do it himself, if it weren’t for the fact that all of his limbs are utterly useless at the moment - and that he knows someone else touching him will be much more satisfying.
His first attempt to alert them of this comes out garbled, Tango gathering a fistful of his hair and tugging right as he opens his mouth to talk. In any other situation, Tango and Impulse might be concerned about that. Now, they just huff dark laughs at his failure, and he might as well have been dunked in a vat of lava for how hot that gets him.
Zedaph’s second attempt turns out to be more successful. “Please, can I–can you touch me, oh void, Impulse,” he gasps.
Impulse pretends to consider his request. “Hmm, I’m not sure if you’ve earned that, what do you think, Tango? Has he been a good boy for us?”
“I’ve been so good, please–”
“I suppose he can be touched. Listen to him, after all, begging so sweetly for us,” Tango murmurs into his shoulder.
Once Impulse gives him the go-ahead and leans back into the armrest behind himself, Tango uses one hand to press Zedaph against his chest and the other to reach into his trousers. His grip is firm, and so satisfying, and Zedaph shudders in his hold as Tango’s warmth stokes the embers in his gut.
There’s no way this can get any better, he thinks, and then Tango whispers into his ear: “What do we say?”
Zedaph’s whimper is unrestrained. It’s almost embarrassing how much more that simple phrase did for him than Tango actually touching him did.
“Well?” Tango prompts, squeezing Zedaph’s erection and grinding against his bottom. “I want you to look at Impulse when you thank him. It’s only polite.”
When Zedaph makes eye contact with the man in front of him, he inhales and Impulse’s grip on his thighs tightens, just for a moment. Impulse looks ravenous, and he’s never felt like a piece of meat more.
He adores it.
“Th-thank you,” he gasps out.
Impulse grins like a wolf who just cornered a sheep. Sharp. Smug. “Good boy.”
Zedaph can’t believe he hasn’t come yet with how many buttons this entire predicament is pressing, and from the sounds that Impulse and Tango are making in front of and behind him, they aren’t too far off themselves.
In fact, it’s Tango rubbing him in just the right spot which sets off a chain reaction.
Zedaph’s legs shake and he inhales sharply, letting out a soft fuck, which clearly sets off Tango, as his hips stutter and he groans into Zedaph’s ear. “Oh void, you’re so good, such a good boy for us,” he rambles.
His words are the final tipping point for Zedaph, and his vision goes white. He bucks into Tango’s hand, gripping the strong arms around him tightly. He can’t tell what sounds he’s making, or if he’s saying anything - all he knows is the white-hot pleasure erupting through his body and making him shake through the best orgasm he’s ever had. Though it’s probably only a few moments long, it feels like hours until his vision clears and he comes to, his pants damp and his face flushed.
Evidently both him and Tango coming was enough for Impulse to join them. His head is tilted back, lips parted, and his eyes are flashing in between Zedaph’s and Tango’s faces as he exhales shakily, his hips thrusting gently upwards.
The sight is beautiful, and Zedaph can’t resist leaning in and giving Impulse a lazy, open-mouthed kiss. “Thank you,” he murmurs, still catching his breath. Hearing Tango move behind him, he turns around and kisses him as well, sighing softly when Tango cards a hand through his hair and Impulse rubs his back. “I–thank you,” he repeats quietly.
“What for?” Impulse rumbles behind him.
Zedaph shifts to sit against the back of the sofa, the three of them practically laying on each other with their legs tangled together. Mirroring the start of their conversation, Tango and Impulse each grab one of Zedaph’s hands, only this time with their hair and clothes messy and their faces flushed.
“For listening to me. For understanding. For–for doing. That. With me.” He glances between his boyfriends, his gaze eventually falling to the floor. He’s not sure why he’s suddenly nervous. Did they only do it because he wanted to? Was he too pushy? Did they not enjoy it as much as he did-
Tango flicks a finger against his forehead. “Stop. I can hear you thinking from here. Whatever you’re worrying about, I can assure you it is not as much of a problem as you think it is.”
Leaning over, Impulse hugs Zedaph close. “You did amazing,” he agrees. “That was incredibly hot, and I’m super proud of you for talking to us and trusting us to take care of you. We both love you to death, and nothing you do or say will ever change that.”
By the time they’re done talking, Zedaph’s eyes are watering, and he sniffles as he rubs at his face. “I–you too. Both of you. So much.” He might struggle to tell his boyfriends that he loves them - ‘love’ is such a huge word, with so much behind it, and handing that power to someone terrifies him - but it’s true, and even if he can’t say it he’s made sure that Impulse and Tango know it nonetheless. He couldn’t dream of feeling any other way about them.
They all lean on each other for another moment before leaving for a bath, Zedaph quietly sniffling as his boyfriends hold him. This may not have been how he thought this whole debacle would have ended, but void is he happy it did.