Barracks Bunny

by Mizmatched_Sockz

Summary:

All eyes settle on Guest’s seated form, who blushes slightly under the implications of the Bloxy Cola pointing at him.

…

Chance chuckles awkwardly, “Actually, big guy… You can sit yourself out on this one if you’d like, you already do enough for the team.” He hums, pointing back at Elliot, who also got that privilege.

No one disagrees, everyone nods their head to the fact that Guest can be excused from their carnal needs.

They’re surprised when the man shakes his head, “No, it’s only fair.” He says calmly, it’s the truth, they all agreed to this, embarrassingly, so did he.

Or

The survivors are on a bad streak. They come to a conclusion, they’re sexually frustrated.

To solve their problem, they rely on ‘Spin The Bottle.’

Notes:

This chapter is short since it’s just an introduction to this silly idea I had.

Chapter 1: Fate Comes With Soda

A high-school game, of course Chance would pick an immature kind of game to decide something so embarrassing like the predicament they’re in.

The predicament?

They’re all horny. Which isn’t surprising since they’ve been here since Christmas, and for a group of adults who have an active sex life… a hand is soon proven to not be enough. The sexual frustration wouldn’t be so hard to deal with if it didn’t make everyone lose their focus.

It first started with the supports, the base of the team. The targeting, the assisting, the pressure, it was too much, their stress, and the noticeable decline of their ‘efficiency’ only meant the downfall of the sentinels’ patience.

As for the survivalist, they felt it too, eventually, with two aspects that keep the team standing failing consistently, their simple jobs have been more difficult, but the both of them were… unique, one could tune their surroundings out perfectly, and the other had a huge ‘Bloxy Cola’ addiction, their own weird way of coping, one would guess, so it took a long while of those mechanisms failing to keep their minds numb, and occupied before they also admitted their needs.

“Spin the bottle?…” Dusekkar breaks the silence, bringing a finger up and against his mouth opening, “…I must admit, it sounds intriguing.” His ‘head’ tilts slightly to the side, floating closer to the group.

Chance grins, “Yeah! If you’re all willing to agree to the terms and conditions,” he snickers, “We can let fate decide for us, seems fair, doesn’t it?” He explains, what seemed absurd at first, now sounds… reasonable. It’d be awkward to discuss this, better just leave it to ‘luck.’

Everyone is seated around the table, all but Elliot, who was kindly excused from partaking in this because of his job being hard enough already, so was Dusekkar, but the mage claimed that they were curious about the results this would bring and wanted to be a part of it.

A ‘Bloxy Cola’ is ripped out from Noob’s hold with a small protest that soon goes silent with a quiet grumble. The Bloxy is placed in the middle of the table. “Alright, time for the Cola to decide who’ll be the team’s ultimate sub.” The gambler announces, and everyone collectively groans at the corny term.

“Don’t call it that.” Shedletsky grimaces before taking a bite out of the pizza slice he stole from the fridge. He’s bitter, his wife won’t leave his mind, yet he needs this release badly.

Builderman nods, “Let’s keep this serious.” His grey skin now with a tint of pink on his cheeks. Chance sighs and quits it. Instead, his hands reach to give the can a spin, and it rolls off the table. He scoffs and puts it back on the flat, wooden surface. This time, it spins successfully.

All the survivors lean closer, anticipating the knowledge of who’ll be chosen.

Eventually, all eyes settle on Guest’s seated form, who blushes slightly under the implications of the Bloxy Cola pointing at him.

No one predicted this outcome.

There’s an awkward pause before anyone dares to talk, non surprisingly, it’s the team’s social butterfly.

…

Chance chuckles awkwardly, “Actually, big guy… You can sit yourself out on this one if you’d like. You already do enough for the team.” He hums, pointing back at Elliot, who also got that privilege.

The pizza boy gives them a small smile and waves his hand from the table next to theirs. Guest slowly retaliates.

No one disagrees, everyone nods their head to the fact that Guest can be excused from being nagged with their carnal needs.

So,

They’re pretty surprised when the man shakes his head, “No, it’s only fair.” He says calmly, it’s the truth, they all agreed to this, embarrassingly, so did he. Besides… “It’d be a good opportunity to get to know all of you more.” He states honestly, still a bit shy from this situation.

He’d like for everyone to stop being tense around him, sure, they’ve expressed their gratitude a lot of times before towards him and he appreciates the respect, but they seem afraid to offend him, he knows he can be a bit serious or too determined in the field but he’s really not… like that.

Guest wants to break the ‘just teammates’ relation they hold, he sees a potential friend group, it’d be nice to work with people he gets along with in a closer manner, even if it’s thanks to… sex of all things. After all, they’re stuck here for who knows how long. It is better to become close to the ones he has near.

“Aw… I knew you were soft.” Chance mocks and gently pinches the man’s cheek, who snorts and pushes the hand away with a small grin. “But seriously, you don’t have to agree, we wouldn’t mind.” Again, everyone agrees.

“I mean, we always have big ‘daddy’ here to fill your spot.” He smirks and gently shakes 007n7 by the shoulders, leaning against his chair. The ex-hacker squints, hugs himself like he was just violated and gravitates away from Chance. “What did you call me?…” he asks, not immune to blushing thanks to the gambler’s teasing.

“I mean, you’re not bad looking, I’d definitely hit.” 007n7 restrains himself from strangling the guy. Their attitude reminds him of a past version of himself. Admittedly, it irritates him a bit.

Chance shrugs, “Okay then, I could take Guest’s place.” He grins, wiggling his eyebrows to emphasize his point. “Who wouldn’t want this?” He scoffs.

“Pass!” Shedletsky says, just to annoy the gambler. “Pass.” Noob nods, so does Builderman.

And everyone else at the table, Elliot just watches, amused.

No hate to their local gambler, but this is supposed to be an activity to reduce stress, and Chance could be… aggravating at times.
To say it shortly, not everyone is into brats, or ready to handle one.

Another small silence,

“I’m good at lying back.” Two time raises their hand. The survivors freeze. They had forgotten the cultist was here. Chance rests a hand on their shoulder.

“Two Time.” They start, their eyes hidden behind the shades and their mouth pulled into a thin line. “No.”

Another voice chimes in, “I believe we should obey our friend’s wishes.” Dusekkar points out, putting the focus back on Guest.
He won’t be able to keep going if Two Time is the person selected to take this task.

“✅” Taph signs, agreeing with the magic wielder’s statement. All the survivors turn to look at him, they had expected him to be uninterested in being part of this, as if he weren’t an adult like the rest of them. The demolitionist visibly shrinks back underneath their gaze, now self-conscious of their desires.

Elliot walks over to the table. “They’re right,” he shrugs. “Guest isn’t against it, let’s not shame him for his choice.” He explains, pointing at the man’s warm face with a small, teasing smile on his face.

“We weren’t…” Shedletsky now notices the fellow sentinel has been silent for a long time. Ah, they made him aware of what he agreed to and made him feel strange for agreeing to a role such as this. “…Well,” he stands up, swinging his sword to rest it on his shoulder in a careless manner, “It’s settled, Guest has proved to be more selfless than we believed and will take on this ‘chore.’” He cuts this conversation short before things get awkward.

He pats the man on the back.

A silent way of saying ‘Good Luck.’

Builderman nods, “Let’s all be respectful towards our teammate.” He adds with a small smile. The arrangement is left alone, if anyone wanted to get rid of pent-up ‘sexual’ needs, Guest would be willing to help them out. “You can tell us if you change your mind,” Builderman reassures him and stands up from his seat.

Guest nods quietly, now watching everyone leave, he feigns calmness. When he’s left alone, sitting in the middle chair of one of the table’s sides, with the cheap ceiling light illuminating his face, he lets his forehead rest against the furniture. He had agreed to some crazy terms now that he realizes it.

He doesn’t regret it, but…

He’s so fucking embarrassed.

Chapter 2: To Smash A Pumpkin

Summary:

Even as Guest’s back is against the pillows, with a hand gently but firmly pressed on his chest. He knows that isn’t the thing pinning him down.

He knows it the moment he looks up to see hungry, fiery eyes. They keep him down, like an untold command, a shiver crawls up his spine, the dominating aura that brushes against his skin is so unlike the protective, calming shield that has given him the advantage against his opponents during many rounds.

Dusekkar smirks at him, his delicate hands, made for handling magic no one else can comprehend, and to wield his staff out of the kindness of his soul, reach to carefully help his gaping mouth shut.

“You flatter me, dearest.”

Holy!—

Notes:

Writing Dusekkar is still kinda hard. 😔

Not as hard as he is, though! Hahah…. Get it?

 

….

😞

Anywayy, this would have been uploaded yesterday if it weren’t for my fucking phone dying. (It wouldn’t turn on.)

Enjoy! (Please.)

A sharp pain makes Dusekkar choke out a gasp, his eyes widen, and his vision comes to an end with the slash of a sword, smashing his head into pieces.

He appears back on the lobby, by the stairs, despite floating, his legs feel weak from the adrenaline he just experienced, he glances at the table on the back, where only winners deserve to sit at, it’s not usual for him to be there, his abilities to help are mediocre and he attracts too much attention to himself, so he’s often the first target.

Everyone always reassured him that he tried his best, but as his hands grip his cloak, he can hear in the back of his psyche that his best isn’t enough. No one dares to say anything because it’s very visible how much it affects him to be a liability. He can’t help but feel guilty about the fact that he just gave the killer a time advantage because of a foolish slip-up.

The magic wielder bites back a frustrated sob of desperation. He’s way too old to cry over a small inconvenience, he’ll get used to this. Taph did, and he just got here recently.

He grimaced. That didn’t make him feel any better.

“Meow.” Dusekkar glances down to see the lobby’s cat looking up at him. With a defeated sigh, he picks it up and floats to sit down on the living room’s couch that’s right beside the cozy fireplace. At least there’s some kind of soothing place inside this hell. He miserably lowers himself down on the furniture, with the cat on his lap, and petting it as if to bury his bitterness in the fur.

It’s an offense for his image to be depicted like this in this sick game. He’s powerful, he understands magic beyond others’ comprehension, he’s efficient, and an important asset. Well, he used to be. This downgrade of his abilities is causing a whole other kind of wave of insecurities, which is ridiculous! He’s never felt this way before, he never had to doubt himself, and he rarely left room for mistakes!

Beams aren’t even his specialty, and the shields his staff can make in this realm are absurd.

This place is the worst.

The cat mewls, a warning to Dusekkar’s agitated pets. The mage huffs and slows down, he lets his head rest back, he stares at the ceiling for a bit and then closes his eyes.

He just couldn’t take it anymore! Every round is the same, it even feels like it was purely designed to torture him more than the others. Sometimes, it isn’t even his abilities, since he’s gotten more agile, but his teammates seem to forget he’s more of a ‘help from the distance’ kinda guy, and killers seem to love taking advantage of the fact he moves as slow as a worm whenever he does anything.

Dusekkar huffs, a puff of fire blowing out of his mouth, the cat jumps out of his lap, and he’s just left to watch, devastated, as the offended animal struts away.
Noise lights up the lobby, filling it with life once again. The support perks up and twists his body to peek over his seat as the rest of his team walks out from the back and into the main area, most out of breath, and with adrenaline pumping within their veins despite looking intact.

“What’s got you pouting?” Shedletsky grins and leans his elbow on Dusekkar’s pumpkin head. “Are you sad because you’re embarrassed about going out first?” He snickers, the admin is often concentrated in rounds, or tries to at least, and while he is as much of a pain in the ass like Chance, he’s the most comfortable with his friends, also known as being the most annoying with such.

The swordsman pats Dusekkar’s head, “Don’t worry, buddy, I avenged you, should have seen the kid’s face every time I stunned him, and danced in front of him.” He laughs, wiping a tear from his eye, and exhaling before his eyes land on 007n7, whose expression isn’t angry, or sad, but it’s plenty obvious that he’s displeased.

The admin clears his throat and switches his gaze onto Dusekkar, who seems just as miffed. “Ooh-ho, okay, tense ambience here, huh?” He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. Builderman raises a brow at him, his ‘really?’ Doesn’t need to be verbally said, it’s written all over his face.

Shedletsky presses his fist against his mouth and clears his throat again, “…Sorry.” Now the lobby is officially awkward.
The pause is soon interrupted. “It’s… alright.” 007n7 says, his tone dry, but he leaves it clear that he doesn’t mind, he leaves, not wishing for any sort of conflict.

As they all watch him exit, Shedletsky opens his mouth, then decides to keep it shut as he notices his friend carrying an expression he knows well, and he sighs. “We’ll leave ya alone, have fun being mysterious by the fireplace.” He gives him a fond, small smile before dragging Builderman outside with him.

He’s not brooding. Shedletsky is saying nonsense.

Dusekkar sighs and reaches for one of the books that lay on the table that’s in the middle of the living room, might as well occupy his mind with something else. After opening the first page, he squints, something he does out of habit.

“Hey.” A voice perks up from behind him.

“Oh my!—“ he jumps in his seat, and quickly turns around to see who had intruded on his ‘brooding’ time. Huh, it’s… Guest, he has never had a proper conversation with him before. They’ve only exchanged words in their own kind of language, compliments.

He smiles at Dusekkar, he’s holding two ‘Fizzly’ sodas, one in each hand, an item obtained and added into their diet ever since the map resembling Elliot’s workplace appeared in this realm. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.” He states, and hands the support one of the beverages. Dusekkar looks up at him, the small smile he gets, reflecting the one he offered to him earlier, is enough to melt the tension from before.

“You shouldn’t take accountability for what your hands cannot physically reach.” He shakes his head gently, his thumbs grazing the sides of the cold soda can. “You’re not at fault. My fate was sealed from the start.

Guest cracks his drink open, hearing the satisfying sizzling sound. “I could have tried harder,” he shrugs. He knows it’s not his fault, you only waste your time resenting yourself. There’s no use in torturing himself. It is better to focus on not making the same mistakes. “Your job is not easy, you know?” He looks up, meeting the other’s gaze.

Dusekkar lets out a soft chuckle, “My duty can be a pain.” He nods.

The sentinel looks down at the unopened drink. “Do you not like it?” He asks, not upset, just curious. He wasn’t lying, he does yearn for closeness between his team, he’d like to get to know these people, their stories, their troubles, their likes and so on. All they have in this place is each other.

They must learn to rely on one another.

“I prefer ‘Witches Brew.’” He lies, just because the drink brought up some fun memories, he actually despised that soda. Brighteyes would bring a hat with two of those damned things attached to each side of it, hide and drink from it to time to time, sounds innocent, but it made every admin’s eye twitch whenever the ‘Witch Laugh’ would play in the background.

Worst thing? Shedletsky enabled this behavior and even joined in.

Horrible, oh so horrible. He can’t believe he misses it. Perhaps it’s just the longing for normalcy.

Whatever his ‘normal’ even is.

“Who knows, maybe we haven’t found it yet.” Guest adds, ever so positive, he doesn’t have the heart to say he hopes they don’t find that damned item. The blue-haired man takes a sip of his drink, and some of it pours onto his shirt, making him pout slightly, a bit annoyed with the mess.
Dussekar stifles a snort behind his hand and finally cracks his soda can open. The silence isn’t uncomfortable. It’s nice. Nobody needs to fill in the blank space, and there’s no need to do so either.

The magic wielder looks in the contents of the can before speaking, “I can not help but feel… inadequate.” Guest’s eyes widen slightly at the admission before they soften, and his face turns into one of sympathy. He stays silent, letting the other continue. “It’s fastidious to be obligated to stay on the sidelines. I am more than that,” he puts his hand against his chest, “I can accomplish more than that.” Dusekkar states.

“I have always been needed, and now… the only way I can help is by staying out of everyone’s path.” He frowns and grips the can, denting the material. “I must say, it is discouraging whenever I don’t have—“

“Control?” Guest finishes for him, placing his soda on the coffee table to lean back against the couch. “I get how that feels like.” He offers the mage a small smile filled with empathy.

Dusekkar stares at the veteran for a moment. There are a lot of questions within his train of thought. It’s rare for him to seek answers from someone else, despite this, he stays quiet and lets out a soft chuckle, filled with amusement.

“You’re not as I imagined.” He adds, his eyes meeting Guest’s once again.

There’s Sentinel perks up at that, now curious. “Is that… a good thing or a bad thing?” He tilts his head slightly, his mouth pulled into a grin. The implication that Dusekkar’s view of him has changed has him leaning in closer, interested.

“Neither. My view of you was purely based on prejudices from my part.” He explains, taking a sip of the lemonade-based drink. This place has him drinking very sugary things… “And now, I find myself amazed,” he smiles, “War tends to harshen individuals, commonly, for the worse. It’s pleasant to see you have been able to keep yourself humble, no matter your adversaries.”

“And if I may add, I find that admirable.”

Guest brightens underneath the flattery, “Your hard work is admirable too, Dusekkar, despite what you believe.” He answers, “Go easier on yourself, okay?”
Eyes meet his for the millionth time during this conversation. They can’t help it. Dusekkar nods, bringing his drink to his ‘mouth.’

He glances around the place, “Your effort is what matters. Let’s not worry about what our hands cannot reach.” Guest adds.

The word ‘control’ echoes inside Dusekkar’s head. His magic, barely containable, and so beyond technology, had always kept things in the palm of his hand. Problems were manageable, and situations never got untamable with him around.
Now, he’s ‘living’ under the rules of someone else, forced to watch as he cannot do anything, but follow the strings that pull at his joints. He feels like a contained supernova.

When he looks at Guest, the words escape his mouth. “Would you be uncomfortable if I were to request your presence tonight?” Dusekkar asks, not shy, but quietly, softly, not wanting to surpass Guest’s boundaries. “I’d be keen on spending the night with someone.”

The man’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh,” he blinks, that was unexpected. When Dusekkar opens his mouth to apologize, Guest beats him to it. “No! I mean— yes, yes. I wouldn’t mind helping you. At all.” He panics, not wanting to discourage the mage.

“I mean it.” He reassures again, “I wouldn’t shame you.” He says, a bit more seriously this time, wanting to get his point across.
Now, it’s Dusekkar’s turn to offer him a kind, understanding smile. “We shall reunite in my cabin then.” He says, now more confident of himself, before standing up from his chair, his feet floating off the ground.

“A—alright.” Guest says, blinking with surprise. Huh, now he’s the nervous one. Great.

“I’ll be waiting for your arrival.” The veteran is speechless at the wink he receives from Dusekkar, and he watches him leave with the words dying on his mouth.
The team’s soft-spoken magic specialist, a flirt? No one would believe him. His eyebrows raise, amused by the slight change while he watches Dusekkar walk out of the lobby.

Huh, maybe his view on the support had also changed.

He sits back and closes his eyes, letting himself relax for a bit, entertaining the idea of what he’s about to do. His mind goes back to old memories, he’s never known more than Daisy, his firsts always belonged to her, and even while he’s trapped here, so does his heart.

His face warms up a bit, a specific kind of flashback. After they settled down, whenever they could, to take a break from the baby, they’d spice things up in the bedroom, somehow, that went as far as Daisy suggesting they should add a third to their party of two.
Shockingly, he enjoyed it, a little bit too much. To be able to please two people at the same time… it’d filled him with satisfaction.

He knows how good sex can be to get your mind off things happening in your daily life. That’s why he wasn’t bothered when being handed the task of assisting his comrades. His hands push against the cushion of the furniture as he stands up to follow the path to where Dusekkar disappeared.
Guest glances at the permanent night sky, while it’s fitting for this realm to be in an endless tranquil state inside of the only peaceful location, he misses the sunrise, and the sweet brown eyes that’d greet him every morning.

With a sigh, he pushes the cabin door. “Ah, I thought you had changed your mind.” Dusekkar hums when he enters, they’re in front of each other now. One with only their robe on and the other tense, their clothes still on their body, while their body temperature increases. “Did I… intrude?” Guest asks, wondering if perhaps he should have waited more.

“Not at all.” Dusekkar shakes his head gently, and then meets his eye with a smile, “I just didn’t wish for my clothes to get in our way. They can be… tedious to work with.” He explains honestly, it’s true, the layers to his outfit can be a pain to remove.
And while it’s a nice foreplay tactic… he’s sharp tonight, he needs to go directly to the main course.

“That makes sense.” Guest chuckles and glances at the stairs. “Will the other supporters mind us doing this?” He blushes a bit, the cabins were divided by their roles, since Builderman mentioned it being a good way of discussing planning tactics with those who have the same job within the round.

Dussekar ponders for a bit, “I suppose not, everyone agreed to this, which means everyone expected the inconveniences that came with our choice.” He adds, his point was logical, not to mention, they were all adults with needs, they’d understand, but the sparkling shame in Guest’s being wouldn’t fade away, the fact of anyone being able to listen to them was… scandalous.
He shrugs it off. If things go as he thinks they’ll happen, then he will eventually get intimate with all the survivors, there’s no use in being embarrassed after being able to agree to this.

Guest follows Dusekkar into his room and sits on the bed, his hands resting on his lap, unsure of what to do. Telamon, he’s acting like a virgin. “I was wondering if I could try something new with you,” Dusekkar asks, ever so patiently.

“I’m all yours.” Guest smiles, half playfully, half teasing, but it’s reassuring. He’s fond of the mage after sharing a good talk with him. Besides, what’s the worst this kind of man could ask for?

Praise, gentleness, kisses… he could do that. It doesn’t—

“Then I’ll ask for you to strip for me,” he states, “If you may.” His tone is more demanding now, but he never loses his politeness.

Well, that was forward.

Guest swallows and then nods. He stands up to discard his pants.

“Ah-ah.” A disapproving tone.

He immediately halts and then feels silly for acting as if he were some obedient mutt. Guest glances at the voice, Dusekkar has taken a seat on the couch that’s in the corner of this room, facing the bed, he feels like a painting being displayed in an art museum, he’s getting pulled into pieces, inspected and gazed at like mere eye candy.

“Do it slowly, we don’t rush, okay?” How can someone be so patronizing and sweet at the same time? Better one yet, how can someone make it sound so hot?

Guest’s pale skin changes color, now slightly embarrassed. “O—oh.” He says, his rough voice at a loss for words and unable to say anything else. He hesitates, he looks lost.
The support lets out a chuckle at the sight of his face, “Take the vest off, and lift the shirt for me to see.” He encourages.

The veteran gulps. Is this how hookers feel?

He does as he’s told, eventually, he’s showcasing himself by holding the shirt up, covering his flushed face as he hears Dusekkar float closer to him. Hands settle on his waist, and travel up, thumbs tracing over the outline of his abs. “Incredible form.” The magician comments, a pleased smirk carved on his face.

“Is this necessary?” Guest’s raspy voice asks, his breath has hitched slightly, breathing shakily as his sensitive buds are pressed.
Dusekkar hums, “Use your words. Tell me what displeases you.” He scolds, leaving it clear that he wants clear sentences.

The sentinel hesitates, “I don’t mind—“

“You’re shy,” Dusekkar says, it’s not a question, it’s a statement. He gets no answer, but that’s enough to know that what he assumed is correct. A tongue graces Guest’s nipples, making the man twitch under the feeling. He had expected it to burn, since the inside of Dusekkar’s head seems to be made of fire, looks like that isn’t the case, even if it’s still warm.
Nails trail Guest’s lower back, giving him goosebumps while he tries not to quiver from the teasing licks his nipples are receiving… The whine he lets out when Dusekkar bites into his pec is loud enough to catch even himself off guard.

“What a splendid melody.” Dusekkar chuckles. He now reaches to unbuckle the other man’s belt, never once breaking eye contact with the gaze that peeks from behind the lifted shirt. Another delicious whine is forced out of Guest when a naughty hand grips his bulge from inside his underwear.

“Oh my, aren’t you excited?” Dusekkar dares to giggle, feigning surprise as if he weren’t the reason for this reaction. “You’ve been just as suppressed as the rest of us…” he notes, his thumb caressing the now leaking tip. “How unfortunate.”

Guest can’t argue against that, both of them are needy, on the verge of desperate, it’s evident, obvious, easy for the eye to catch. He isn’t thinking when he ruts against the hand, his reflexes immediately asking for a quick release after being deprived of this for so long.

As soon as he chases after the friction, it leaves him, forcing him to let out a groan of frustration.

He must look grumpy, since the other man looks amused by his expression.
At least this is entertaining for one of them.

“Ask. Plead for my touch, express your need.” Dusekkar gives him another sweet smile, pretending his request isn’t as cruel as it sounds. Guest’s throat is dry now, he hadn’t expected this at all… still, what leaves his mouth isn’t a complaint, it isn’t him asking for the other to stop. “Please?” He says, with a nervous stretch of his mouth.

A snort, “Guest, I know you can perform in a finer manner than that. Make it exquisite, I am craving to hear you beg.” He demands once again, making sure the eye contact weighs on the veteran.
Again, he hesitates, but he sinks down to his knees, hugging Dusekkar’s waist, pressing his chin against his crotch, and looking up at the other with pleading eyes.

This isn’t a performance. While it’s shameful, he does want this. It’s true what the mage said earlier, he is just as pent up as everyone in this place, he might be strong, disciplined, but he’s no better than any other man. He’s thinking with his downstairs head, and when he heard that command, he knew exactly what he had to do: make it clear that he wants this, more than anything and most importantly, that he wants it now, in any form, and under any circumstances.

“Dusekkar.” He breathes out, feeling courageous, he nuzzles his face against the robe’s bulge, and lets his hands rest on the other’s ass, mouthing against his cock. “I can assure you… That I don’t want anything more than this. Please… I beg for you with every inch of my body.” He manages to say in a serious but desperate tone, his breathing accentuates his need. It comes out like some sort of vow, but the magical being seems to love it.

He gets his hair ruffled, like a ‘Good Boy.’ He can’t escape the fact, he’s on his knees, begging. He’d just need to rut against Dusekkar’s leg to completely sell his ‘act.’

“I did not know you’d be this thrilling.” Dusekkar comments, delighted with the attitude. The team couldn’t have chosen a better candidate for their carnal necessities. “You’re behaving beautifully.” He adds, cradling the veteran’s head against his erection.

“Do you want to remove my cloak?”

Oh, the question is heaven. It knocks Guest’s air out of his lungs in a sigh of relief. The words are sweeter than sugar, so inviting… with a voice like that, it’s no wonder he folded so easily. He’s always been weak for this type of personality, it’s like they know their way around him. How to play him like a piano, to make him kneel with every press that’s made by their fingers, and to make him sing with every touch.

He unwraps them like an awaited Christmas gift, this time, he isn’t scolded for his impatience. Guest leans in for a kiss, his worries of being burnt now gone, the robe too, which now lies on the floor. He isn’t naked yet, and they’re already one step closer to getting on with it, he supposes he isn’t the only one who’s impatient tonight.

Dusekkar remembers his intent on keeping this slow, though and gently puts his hand against his lips, pushing his head away with a knowing smirk. He might be the one naked now, but he still holds the upper hand. It’s confirmed with the disappointed groan Guest lets out against his palm, which might as well be a frustrated growl. “Clothes off. This can’t be fair, can it?” He coos, pointing down at his bare body.

The teasing is an addictive torture.

He’s stared at attentively as he removes his clothing. He isn’t told to be slower as their libido is on the roof right now. They’re both on the same page, they need to hurry this up.

Guest’s eyes look up at Dusekkar, he’s ready to grab them, capture their mouth and push them against the mattress.

He’s slapped in the face with the opposite when he hears the next words, “Be a doll and get on the bed for me, okay?” How can their voice remain soft when saying such crude things…

As he watches the satisfaction on the other’s face when he does as he’s told, he remembers one detail that went over his head. He is the one following orders here. He won’t be the one taking the lead this time.
Dusekkar is here to take control over something tonight, even if it’s just this. He craves the feeling of empowerment.

The bed creaks under him. The sheets wrinkle at his movement.

Dusekkar gets onto the same bed, crawling towards him. As if it were an instinct, he backed up until his back hit the headrest. His knees are pushed apart, a body now stands between his legs, while his hard cock stands proudly in front of another.

He’s pushed down.

Even as Guest’s back is against the pillows, with a hand gently but firmly pressed on his chest. He knows that isn’t the thing pinning him down.

He knows it the moment he looks up to see hungry, fiery eyes. They keep him down, like an untold command, a shiver crawls up his spine, the dominating aura that brushes against his skin is so unlike the protective, calming shield that has given him the advantage against his opponents during many rounds.

Dusekkar smirks at him, his delicate hands, made for handling magic no one else can comprehend, and to wield his staff out of the kindness of his soul, reach to carefully help his gaping mouth shut.

“You flatter me, dearest.”

Holy!—

Guest’s heart skips a beat, his cock twitches with interest. He’s cornered, and he has no intent on trying to flee. He’ll happily let the predator sink its teeth into his neck. He tries to speak, but two fingers are brought in front of his mouth, “I fear, we don’t have the right equipment for this. Would you mind assisting me with this?” Dusekkar explains, reminding him there are no condoms or lube in this place that they know of.

It’s a small, degrading hit to his persona, but he relents, opening his mouth and trying not to gag at the intrusion. “Coat them.” He adds. Guest’s tongue wraps around the digits, varnishing them in his saliva. When they poke too far, he lets out an embarrassing, wet choking sound.

“Sorry.” He tries to apologize with his mouth stuffed, but it comes out barely comprehensible.

A sweet, carved smile is all that he gets as an answer, somehow, it’s still a bit condescending. He feels small, even if he’s actually fairly tall.

“Turn around for me, will you?” He hums, the veteran’s face reddens to its limit. Even if he was chosen as the damned team’s broodmare, he hadn’t expected to bottom so casually, specifically, he hadn’t expected to do so for Dusekkar from all people.

He makes sure to hug a pillow so he’s comfortable while bending down and shamelessly offering himself to his teammate. His whole body warms up as he’s spread for the other, he looks back over his shoulder, a bit anxious, just to be greeted by the stretch of a prodding finger entering his hole. Guest curses, “Warn a guy…” he sighs, not aggressive or upset, just slightly weirded out by the feeling.

He isn’t used to this after all.

“Apologies for my impatience,” Dusekkar says, trying to make it up to Guest by wrapping his free hand around the man’s cock, which gets a sound of approval. The mage smiles, “Do you like that?” The singing tone in which he managed to tease him shouldn’t make him whimper like it did.

His finger is dragged out and pushed back in, marking the initial stretch. When the digit slides inside easily, Dusekkar pulls away to put his two fingers by the veteran’s face, who looks over his shoulder and opens his mouth obediently, knowing this would be the only lubrication they’d manage to get as he tastes himself, his tongue lapping against them, coating them wet and nicely.

“You’re aware of what does you good.” Dusekkar chuckles, pressing the two digits against the tight entrance, he doesn’t shove them right in, lets them linger against Guest’s hole as a discreet warning.

“Hghn—“ Guest lets out a quiet groan against the mess of pillows underneath him as he’s further stretched, this time, it isn’t as gentle, since they’re pumped in and out of him at a more rapid pace, he doesn’t squirm, he stays still like he’s on duty, enduring the feeling.
The third digit is cruelly forced inside with the others, no more saliva helping the process. He gasps, caught off guard while he grips the sheets to ground himself.

“You’re doing a flawless job.” Dusekkar compliments, ramming his fingers into the tightness that gives up around him.

“Dusekkar…” Guest whines mid-groan, thankfully, his pleas are heard and the intrusion leaves his insides. His body is heated up with embarrassment and pleasure. His waist is gripped gently, massaged even. “On your back, come on,” Dusekkar commands sweetly once again, smiling when the veteran rolls over for him.

“You’re magnificent at this, I wonder… did you practice back at home?” The mage snickers, amused.

Guest exhales, evening his breath while he looks up at his comrade. He finds it in himself to let out a soft laugh, “I guess I’m just eager for my treat.” He jokes, wanting to keep up with the other’s game. He doesn’t mind submitting, but he’s always been awfully chatty.

“I see.” Dusekkar nods, crawling closer, his hands travel up the man’s abdomen, exploring every toned part of his body, with a grip of his biceps, he finds himself satisfied and ready to focus on the main task.

Who can blame him? The mortal carries a beautiful physique, and he has always been curious, he had to explore the outside, and now, hopefully, the insides are the next thing he’ll get to explore.
“Remain tranquile.” Dusekkar reminds the veteran while he wraps his hand around his hard member, guiding the tip to press against Guest’s empty, winking hole.

The tightness is inviting, he can’t help but head right in with one heavenly thrust. His palm shoots up to press against his mouth. It’s been a while, his body immediately grinds against the flesh that surrounds him. “Oh my…” He says, for once, speechless.

“Hrrgh—“ Guest’s face scrunches slightly underneath the other’s body, his toes curl, he had not expected the other to slam inside in one go like a needy animal. “Dusekkar.” He breathes out, calling his name as if to remind him that no matter the strength he possesses, he should be gentle with him.

The mage is out of it, though. He bends his figure to loom over the larger man, his exhales landing against their collarbones. He drags back and slams back in, whining at the beautiful moan Guest lets out. “Sing for me.” He demands, his elbows on the sheets while his ‘forehead’ is pressed against the veteran’s neck, whose head barely escapes the sharp antlers.

“Wait, I—” Guest panics slightly and then melts upon the next impact. He decides to take it, his hands now gripping the antlers as support for the brutal pace the other sets.

What happened to the gentleman from before?

His back arches, he lets out sounds he had never imagined himself to be able to produce, and he even sobs every time Dusekkar’s dick lands a hit on that sweet spot that rests inside of him.

“Heavens…” Dusekkar groans out, his nails digging into strong thighs, making sure to dig himself inside deeper, to wrap his neglected cock on those fleshy sheets that clench around him. The bed creaks underneath them, and Guest’s length thrives on the friction it receives from being pressed between two stomachs.

“You’re gorgeous like this… unblemished, immaculate. Such a gem, Guest.” If he said the praise didn’t have him whimpering for more, that’d be a lie.

Sadly, he bursts the moment it gets to his head, his head is thrown back, he convulses under the other’s still moving and unstoppable body, he’s boneless before he pulls his head up to look at the one who’s ravishing him. “Hah…ah…” Guest pants against Dusekkar’s mouth, whose face is in front of him, his eyes watching him intently like he’s a sculpture to be gaped at.

Another slam, he bites back a moan.

“What a messy boy.” If he could, he’d cum twice just from that demeaning sentence alone.

Dusekkar sits up, now looking down at him as he slowly grinds against the tight entrance, edging himself on purpose. Guest watches him breath, and compose himself before dragging his twitching dick out, slowly. To make sure he doesn’t climax with the slight friction from how sensitive he is. Guest looks down while he’s still lying down, his legs spread apart and his chest heaving weakly, he catches a glimpse of the other’s cock.

The hardness looks like it hurts.

He almost yelps when Dusekkar leans down to start lapping his tongue on his torso, bringing every single strip of cum into his mouth to savor it.
Guest doesn’t even bother expressing his shock, instead, he watches, inexplicably turned on by the scene.

Who would have thought?

It tickles, and he squirms slightly under the kitten-licks. He’s still interested in the fact that the fire doesn’t seem to burn him, though.
“I wish I could bite you,” Dusekkar admits with honesty, rubbing his face against the abs he’s so fascinated with.

Guest, now more composed, even if his brain is still tingling with the beautiful feeling of release, asks curiously, “You can’t?” He hums, hugging the pillow that’s beside him, now relaxed. He had thought that this was to please Dusekkar. To focus on others’ needs, but he has to say, he feels very pampered in the moment…

“While my tongue does not burn, the inside of my mouth can turn anything to ashes. Think of a… bonfire, for example, I eat my meals whole. They are no more once they hit the deep end.” The mage rambles, resting their chin on the man’s chest. He skips the fact that he technically doesn’t have teeth.

And while that sounds interesting… “Won’t you do something about your problem down there?” Guest asks, thinking back on the unbelievable hardness he had seen the support carry.
Dusekkar smiles slyly, he crawls to straddle Guest’s lap, his cock standing proud in front of the veteran’s half-soft length, almost intimidating the other now.

“Ah, may I ask… Who exactly stated I was finished with you?” He chuckles, finding amusement in the other’s naivety. He wonders, hadn’t it crossed the other’s mind that they had all night.

It’s the only time they can have a break from those hellish rounds. He wouldn’t let any of this time go to waste.

“…Oh?” Guest says, half interested, half surprised. Maybe he had been dumb thinking any of the survivors would be so easily satisfied.

Dusekkar leans in closer. Deep black eyes stare into bright, sun-like ones. Contrasting each other within the room with poor lighting, where the lamp stays forgotten and the moon is the only thing to illuminate them besides the shining presence that is Dusekkar, quite literally.
“I want to release on your cock, Guest. I wish for you to ravish me until the clock strikes zero, and we’re forced into another game of death with our weak, exhausted bodies.” Dusekkar expresses passionately, shockingly, he isn’t done.

“We shall please each other like rabbits during springtime, just then shall I bloom underneath your touch and just then, shall you clean the mess you’ll make. I crave for your tongue to lick every inch of my trembling body, for me to let my fingers swim among your blue locks and force my length deep inside your throat. I long for you to fulfill my undying fantasy, as only then, will I regain the strength I need to go on.” The man doesn’t even stutter.

Guest had never heard someone list off the way they want to ruin him in such a ‘poetic,’ detailed manner.

“Would you do as I ask?” Dusekkar cups his face, and a shaky hand wraps around their wrist.

…

“Yes.” Guest signs his ‘demise.’

Dusekkar smirks, “It is a good thing I prepared myself before you got here, then.” He hums, stroking Guest’s member before squeezing it, and feeling it twitch in his hold as Guest groans.

The blue-haired man looks up and gulps.

Holy shit.

As expected, they cannot move the next morning, specifically, Guest cannot move. Which is ridiculous for someone who went through harsh training for a good amount of his life, to be surpassed by the strength that was brought to Dusekkar because of their insane libido.
His legs twitch underneath the covers, his jaw aches, there’s a foul taste in his mouth, geez, he thinks his dick might even fall off.

Dusekkar had fucked him, rode him, made him choke on their member, fingered him until he begged for a second round, it was brutal, obscene, crude, but most importantly, it was so releasing, they went wild, and that was proven to be the best remedy to their stress.
Even with his back partly destroyed, he groans against the sheets, seems like sex is also a good remedy to gain back your ability to have a good night’s rest and forget the fact that you’re trapped in an endless purgatory.

Guest sits up slightly, he was ravished to sleep, he can tell from how a string of drool connects his mouth to a wet spot on his pillow, he wonders if he snored, maybe he should apologize for disturbing Dusekkar’s sleep.
Daisy would always playfully complain about how loud his snoring was. He couldn’t help it, when he was out, he was out.

He turns around, he knows he’s still in the cabin that belongs to the team’s supports since he was moaning his lungs out before he tiredly went to sleep, giving up underneath the mage. Said mage isn’t there when he glances at the other side of the bed, though, he frowns.

Ah, a round had already begun, somehow, he was lucky enough not to be chosen to participate by whatever entity is keeping them trapped here.

He closes his eyes and lies on his back, groaning at the aching. His eyes land on the night desk that’s beside the bed, on it, rests a piece of cake, a souvenir Builderman had gotten in one of the games that took place in the Carnival map, managing to bring it with him to the lobby on the last remaining seconds.

Everyone had gotten a slice, but Dusekkar, who decided to save it and had to protect it from Shedletsky’s appetite countless times.

(and 007n7, who seemed uncomfortable by the sight of it and offered his share of the cake to Shedletsky after seeing the man try to convince Dusekkar to give them their slice instead of saving it for later.)

That same piece of dessert is standing in front of him, with a note that reads ‘Good Morning,’ probably torn from one of the books that are in the lobby.
Guest stares at it for a moment, it’s obvious that it’s meant for him, had it not been, Dusekkar would have eaten it instead of leaving it there.

A smile stretches across his face.

With a sore body and a piece of cake in his hold, he uses the poor makeshift forks Noob had crafted to eat the first bite. It’s sweet, fluffy and pleasant, just like his morning. He hadn’t felt this good upon waking up, ever since he got here.

Maybe Chance was right, they don’t give him enough credit…

This would be a great bonding exercise.

Notes:

-Comments feed me 🤤.
-Criticism is welcomed!

NEXT UP: Chance

Chapter 3: Take A Risk, Shoot Your Shot

Summary:

“Actually, scratch that, it was fun, but you lack the attitude, no offense.” They chuckle, “Stretch me up and fill me up with it. It has no bullets, I think… so you can relax with pointing that around.” Guest almost chokes again. The requests just keep getting weirder.

“I’m— Sorry. What?” He gapes, now holding the weapon with weak hands, he shouldn’t question this guy any further, seriously.

“You heard me.”

Notes:

TW: Gun usage, slight violence, and some consensual dub-con (Aka, Roleplay. It’s not really there but it’s slightly implied.)

Things get a bit wild and fast paced with this one.

SideNote: I was kinda thinking about the song, ‘You Know’ By Freddie Dredd, while writing this.

A blue shield surrounds him.

Chance grins and gives the mage a thumbs up, for some reason, Dusekkar seems to be doing a whole lot better than the rounds before this match. He sticks his tongue out and squints his eyes behind his shades. Soon enough, John Doe roars out in pain.

Adrenaline shoots up his spine as the focus is now on him. He knows these games should be taken seriously but he can’t help it, he has always loved the thrill of danger, people tend to forget he’s an adrenaline junkie after all, always getting involved with dangerous people, places, things… it isn’t surprising he’d end up taking a liking to this purgatory, even if he slightly misses the commodities of his mansion.

He hopes he doesn’t get bored with this. All the others look miserable when realizing they’re truly trapped.

Claws slash his back, ripping his suit with it. He hisses at the stinging feeling and keeps running. A beam hits him, increasing his speed. When did Dusekkar get so daring?

The timer strikes ten seconds, and with this, the pressure for the killer arises. It’s either lose or finish the survivor with the least health.

Who just happens to be Chance, with eleven HP and his stamina close to zero, he makes a face when he runs up to the ball pit and sees the mocking cutout of C00lkidd.

‘Drain your stamina to zero for a price!’

Thanks for the advice. He huffs and exits through the ramp, desperately aching for the last five seconds to finish their countdown.

…

He’s surprised by Dusekkar’s voice warning him and a half corrupted face in front of him, lifting him to stab the final blow to their torso, he chokes and wheezes with his last breath, coughing blood and hitting the ground as the time left increases, his vision blurts and the next time he opens his eyes, he’s back in the lobby.

“No way.” He mumbles, dragging his hands down his face and crooking his shades. “Ugh. How could I mess up so badly?!” He says, exasperated, he walks the walk of shame up the lobby’s stairs, and lets himself sit on one of the beanbags that’s in front of the television with the stupid-looking panda image.

He hums. Mart isn’t here today, odd.

His body gives into the plush seat, he relaxes, letting his mind wander off from the disappointment and embarrassment he felt from handing the round back into their opponent’s grasp. With an exhale, he’s back to being composed, while he’s the youngest adult after Noob and maybe Two Time, he considers himself to be pretty good at handling himself, considering how the oldest react.

Builderman would ignore everyone and overwork himself whenever they had a bad round, Shedletsky would pettily try harder in the next round and fail way worse than initially, Dusekkar would be all depressing, and Taph could get very feisty.

But they were all powerful beings before getting here, so their bitterness is understandable.
He’d say the most calm are Noob, Guest and Himself.

Talking about Guest…

Chance watches the veteran enter the area he’s in. Guest brightens up and waves at him upon spotting him. He wasn’t in today’s round, so perhaps that’s what has him so cheery-looking.

“Hey, sleeping beauty.” Chance grins, patting the empty bean bag beside him. “You were spared by the demon keeping us here.” He comments, stretching and letting his head rest against his arms while he leans back.

“I was.” Guest nods, taking the offered seat. “How was it?” He asks, giving in to the comfy plushiness underneath him.

“Eh… I wouldn’t say bad, but Lady Luck pushed me out from her precious hold right in the end.” The gambler snickers, “Three seconds, can you believe that?” He scoffs, finding amusement in his situation.

Guest’s eyebrows shoot up, “That sounds tough.” He hums, agreeing with his teammate’s exasperated tone and giving him space to continue. Last-minute mistakes that cost you the win can be very frustrating.

“I’m over it, though.” Chance adds, standing up abruptly and putting his hands on his waist, his back faces the veteran before he twists, looking over his shoulder to shoot a grin at them.

“Want to play Eight-Ball?”

Huh, weird way to cope with your feelings, but he won’t bother the guy.

There’s a small pause. “Of course.” Guest shoots them back a smile, he stands up to follow him to the table, the phantom ache of last night’s activities still present in his muscles. “My wife used to beat me at this all the time.” He mentions with an expression that doesn’t read as sad, just happy to remember.

“Ah, shit. You have a wife? I wouldn’t have—“

“We’re open.” Guest interrupts the apology, not wanting his fellow teammate to feel guilty. “She wouldn’t mind, especially given my situation. I’m sure she’s getting comforted for my absence the very same way.” He chuckles and shows off his ring.

“As long as we don’t take this off. It’s like our way of… keeping ownership of each other.” He scratches his neck, “In some sort of way…”

“Man, you’re going to give me a case of diabetes with all that.” Chance laughs, handing the veteran a cue stick and posing with his own. “So you know how to play, right? You can do the honors.”

Guest nods and bends a bit over the table, sending the singular white ball rolling to collide against the fifteen balls in front of it, which end up in plenty of different parts of the table. One even ends up in one of the sacks. Chance heads over to scoop the object up. “Alright. I go stripes then.” He says and lets the ball fall back in.

They grab the white sphere to locate said object wherever they want and bend over the table to push it once again, two striped balls that happened to be aligned fall into one of the sacks.

He’s good… but it’s not surprising for a gambling addict, they’re probably good or at the very least, decent at every kind of game that can involve bets.

Which is… anything.

Ha. He really won’t win this one, huh?

“Say… let’s make a bet, games aren’t as fun without one.” Chance adds, just in time with Guest’s thoughts and focus.

The veteran looks up at him, he’s bent over the table, his stick pointing at the white ball he was about to send rolling, or at least attempting to send against one of his objectives. “Didn’t expect less from you.” Guest chuckles, straightening and standing up from his previous pose to talk to the other appropriately. “…I bet my services.” He winks, confident after last night, of course, he still blushes, not used to acting like a flirt.

Chance blinks and then lets out a loud laugh, “Didn’t think you’d have it in you, soldier boy.” They say, amused and with a huge grin on their face, totally interested. “But say, didn’t we all have access to those before? What makes this offer so special, hm?” He hums, leaning on the table as he gets all over Guest’s face, trying to taunt him.

“Well…” Guest thinks about it for a bit, “I’d let you do less… normal stuff to me, I guess?” He chuckles, finding this amusing himself. He’s poked on the ribs by Chance’s cue stick, making him flinch, he still smiles, though.

He’ll probably get poked by another kind of stick by the end of this anyway.

“Woah-o! Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I didn’t know you wanted us to be dirty with you, big guy.” The gambler teases, knowing that normal people don’t bet things they don’t want to do or lose. Meaning, their team’s greatest sentinel is secretly a kinky motherfucker. “Could have just asked, ya know.” He smirks.

Guest rolls his eyes in a playful manner, “I thought it’d be fun.” He shrugs and smiles, “But if you’re not amused…” he huffs, before feigning a dramatic raspy groan, “I could always bet something else.” The veteran adds.

“Hey, I never said I didn’t like the idea!” Chance chuckles, adjusting his fedora before continuing. “Besides, there is something I’ve always wanted to try… and you seem like a guy who can be trusted.” He comments, reaching for his belt to hand the blue-haired man his gun.

Guest looks puzzled and stares at the weapon in his hand. “You’re betting your gun?”

“Ha! Yeah, no. I’m confident enough to know I’ll win. I just figured I’d tell you exactly what I want, so I don’t have to explain later.” The grin the gambler has splattered on their face is so unlike the cocky one he is always carrying during rounds, it has a certain heat to it, like he wants to bite.

They walk to stand chest to chest with the other. “I want you to take this gun…And fuck my goddamn throat with it. Make it realistic. When I win, I want you to get mad, point it at me and force me to kneel, okay? I want to feel my heart pumping.” Guest is sure that if he were to look down, he’d see a very visible bulge in his comrade’s pants.

His teammates keep leaving him speechless. He thought the adrenaline junkie would get enough entertainment by their current circumstances already.

“Okay.” Guest swallows, “Anything else?” Telamon, he’s almost afraid to ask. He had never expected he’d hear someone request or seem so excited by something like this. He can’t say he’s not drawn to the idea, though.

“You’re letting me tell you in detail my exact fantasy?” Chance asks, amused by this and also getting a bit nervous now, he wants this so bad he doesn’t think he’d be able to get over it if he doesn’t win.

Guest nods, “Go ahead.”

“Could I point the gun at you at some point?”

…

“I draw the line at that.” Guest squints, visibly leaning back.

The gambler sighs, he got too greedy. “I get it, off the table. How about… Keep that gun pointed at me at all times and use me, like uh…” He tries to concentrate, “Ride me, fuck, yes, that’s hot.” They seem very into the idea, looking up as if he were watching the scenario play in his head, which he probably is.

Guest even snickers, feeling slightly giddy about being desired in such a manner. “…I can do that.” He agrees.

“Man, you’re the best.” Chance grins, playfully delivering a soft punch against the veteran’s temple. “Seriously, between you and me, you’re totally the coolest.” He adds.

The blue-haired man hums, bending slightly to go back to playing this game. He impels the white ball, sending his target rolling down into one of the pocket points. “Thanks, you’re a great company too, Chance.” He answers, it isn’t a lie, out of everyone, they were the only survivor who treated him like he wasn’t above acting human.

Whatever punching machine and scary protective, mean guy everyone saw, it was something he never was. He can be intense during rounds, but he really doesn’t have a clue about what comes over him, it all passes like a blur, he’s too in the zone and can often seem harsh.

Chance didn’t seem to let that push him away from trying to befriend him, though. He appreciates that.

Maybe everyone was too focused on pretending none of this was real, even the people, since they’re disposable now, like toys. Death is now a joke, distant from its true meaning within this realm.

Hm.

“Oh, uh. You, too.” The gambler fidgets with his shirt cuffs, now slightly shy.

Guest steps away to let the other have more space around the table, “You haven’t bet anything yet.” He reminds his friend, watching them send the cue ball neatly and directly towards one of the balls, it halts after hitting it, ‘it’ ends up inside the pocket point.

He’s very impressed.

Chance snaps out of his shyness and grins, “Anything you want, big guy.” He promises.
Huh, that could come in handy in the future.

If he had won, of course.
The gambler had cleanly sent the black eight ball into the pocket point of his choice.

He stares, mouth agape, as he loses, badly, very badly. His game had gone downhill in no matter of time. Chance now celebrates in front of him, pumping his fist in the air and grinning like he just won the lottery, perhaps, he did in his mind.

Guest isn’t upset about having to pay his part of the deal, but he is a bit disappointed he did so badly in the game. Daisy was right, he really sucks at this kind of stuff.

“Turn that frown upside down, Guest-y.” Chance says in a singing tone, leaning against him. “You’ll see, I’ll have you yelling out in ecstasy in no time.” The veteran is sure it’ll be the other way around, but it isn’t like he won’t get his own dose of pleasure, too.

“Aren’t I the one doing the pleasing?” Guest asks, raising a brow and leaning the cue stick on the table so he doesn’t have to keep holding it anymore.

Chance grins, “It’s already an honor that you’re getting to sit on this.” He taunts, pointing at the prominent bulge in his pants, which looks constricted and in need of getting out of the prison that are his boxers.

The blue-haired man hums, then, impulsively getting in character, he reaches for the gun he was handed and points it directly at Chance’s forehead, making the man halt their teasing and tense up, a bit surprised the other would take this so seriously.
He lowers the gun a bit, “Uh— Sorry, was that too much?” Guest asks upon seeing Chance’s reaction.

The gambler rapidly shakes his head and reaches to make the gun point back at him, even walking closer to get it pressed against him. “You’re doing perfectly, big guy, don’t be discouraged by my natural responses.” He chuckles, his breath sounds heavier.

Are they seriously on edge from this already?

Guest nods and tries to take his role seriously, but he hesitates a bit, not wanting to disappoint the other. He looks at those expectant eyes. He knows they don’t want words, at least not yet. They want actions, so he places his hand on top of Chance’s head, forcing him down. The other complies almost immediately, setting themselves on their knees and looking up at him with a needy look on their face. He gulps, and the gambler reads his demeanor just as he does so.

“Don’t be nervous, I want this. Let go.” Chance encourages him to be meaner. They sounds desperate.
This must be something he had in mind for a while.

“Um.” Guest glances somewhere else before putting the gun against the gambler’s lips. “Open your mouth?” He tries, but Chance remains dissatisfied. He’d like for the other to be as passionate as they are during rounds.

“Come on, you’re not even trying.” They huff, “Be rough! I can ta—” He doesn’t expect to get the weapon shoved against and then into his mouth the second he tries to finish his sentence, he stays still and looks up.
Guest’s face is flushed. “Keep it down.” He says, reminding him they’re still somewhere they could get walked in on at any time, better not call any attention so it doesn’t happen too soon.

“Just like that.” It’s barely understandable as Chance’s mouth is stuffed with a gun at the moment he says it, nonetheless, the world keeps spinning, and so his fantasy keeps going. He sucks on the weapon, licking around it and bobbing his head up so the tip touches the start of his throat. He moans, overly excited at his gag reflex acting up.

Meanwhile, Guest can’t help but stare, shocked at the sight while he holds the firearm with a hand that’d be shaking if he weren’t trained to hold it up steadily at every passing moment. “Easy, there.” He breaths out, unsure of how the other is able to fuck his own throat with this thing without making a sound. Actually, he might have an idea, but it’s too obscene to say it out loud.

Against all odds, he’s starting to get aroused too, the strange kink of his teammate is actually enticing and opens the doors to a whole other kind of sexual discovery. In other words, he’s turned on, he opens his mouth to communicate his needs, he closes it rapidly, while watching the other give up all control and dignity to suck on ‘his’ weapon… he comes to the conclusion that Chance wouldn’t want him to ask for permission, his current actions were already telling him what he needed to know.

The gambler’s all his to play with.

He feels like he’s on the other end of last night, when Dusekkar was looming over him, with the ability to do anything he wanted with him.
He gets it now, it’s an addictive rush of power.

With adrenaline rushing through his veins, he acts quickly before he hesitates. Guest slowly crouches down, making sure the gun never leaves Chance’s warm mouth, he pushes him down, pressing the weapon deeper into their throat as he guides them to lay on their back, on the wooden floor and beside the eight-ball table, he straddles him, being careful about not putting all his weight on the skinnier Robloxian underneath him.
A groan of satisfaction interrupts him, he pulls the gun away, it’s glistening with spit, he’s curious about what the other wants to express. “Crush me…” Chance pleads with a raspy voice, probably from deep throating the damn weapon as if it were an actual cock.

“Please, crush my dick, sit your ass on it… Come on,” Guest is surprised at how they became a mess so quickly.

“Are you sure?…” The veteran grimaced. He figured it’d hurt if he did that.

The whiny sound of desperation tells him otherwise, with a sigh, he lets his whole weight rest down against the hardness in Chance’s pants, he feels himself warm up at the feeling of a bulge poking him, and then even more so when the man shamelessly grinds against him.
“Thank you, Telamon… fuck! Thank you.” The gambler growls, gripping the man’s thighs and rutting against him like an animal.

Guest decides to slip back into his role once again. “Be patient.” He huffs, it comes out more flustered than commanding, but it’s emphasized by pressing the firearm at Chance’s chest, which makes them go stiff, staying down as they pant.

“You’re so… enthusiastic.” Guest comments.

“Oh, expect the same from the others, we’ve been stuck here for way too long, I’ve been waking up with creamed underwear for who knows how long!” Chance laughs, trying not to throw his plans out of the window and just tell Guest to bend over the table so he can use him until the next round is announced.

The veteran scoffs, “I know, you’re not the first.” He says, toying a bit with his role and moving the gun up so it’s against Chance’s forehead.

“No way! I made a bet with Shed, you have to tell me…“ A huge grin appears on their face, he’s too calm for a gun pointing at different parts of his body at the moment.

Maybe not calm, more like excited, but that isn’t any better.

“…I don’t think I should say.” Guest chuckles softly, letting the weapon rest on the floor for a moment so he can get rid of his vest, he’s too warm in the moment to put up with his clothing.

Chance sighs, “You can’t leave me hanging.” His eyes trail to stare at the other’s clothed bulge, and he smirks. “I want to suck on that next.”

Guest chokes but composes himself quickly, “I thought I was in charge?” He raises a brow and takes off his shirt, trying to get back to their previous activities.

The gambler snickers, “Yes, sir.” He jokes, he can’t help but look at the bare torso in front of him, he decides to open his filthy mouth again, “You make me want to cry like a toddler and make grabby hands until you pacify me with one of those.” He says simply, with no shame, and a plain expression as he stares directly at Guest’s pectorals.

“Do you ever shut your mouth?” Guest sighs, disappointed in his friend. No one can get a rise out of literally anyone in the team but Chance.
The gambler shrugs, their shit-eating grin back on their face. “Hey, you’re the one who decided to pull that gun out of my mouth.” He teases and gets the gun against his lips as a comeback.

“Actually, scratch that, it was fun, but you lack the attitude, no offense.” They chuckle, “Stretch me up and fill me up with it. It has no bullets, I think… so you can relax with pointing that around.” Guest almost chokes again. The requests just get weirder and weirder.

“I’m— Sorry. What?” He gapes, now holding the weapon with weak hands, he shouldn’t question this guy any further, seriously.

“You heard me.”

With a gulp, he nods and gets off their lap. He looks down to stare at expectant eyes and gets to work with taking the gambler’s pants out of the way. This is messy, but he seriously doesn’t know what to do to please his comrade’s fucked up fantasies.
Their underwear is pulled down, Guest takes a moment to check out the man’s length, it’s a nice size, one he hadn’t expected from the one underneath, it’s awfully hard too, he almost lets out a wince of sympathy at the sight of their tip, which is red and dripping with pre-cum. He goes back to his task, pulling the gambler by their hips to get them closer to him, his body keeps their legs spread apart, he takes his own fingers into his mouth, sucking on them like the night prior, before slowly pressing his index finger against the needy hole.

A groan is heard when he finally pushes it in, gently sliding it in and out of the tight insides until the muscle stretches to accommodate it, “You’re into some… exotic kind of stuff.” Guest comments before entering the second finger in, dryly, he doesn’t think the other would mind, which unsurprisingly, they don’t, their grin widens, and they squirm under him.

“I like danger,” he admits, “I’ve done way more strange things before I was condemned to be here.” Their nails dig into the wooden floor when the digits ram a bit too deep.

It’s true. When you’re raised among privilege, easy access to anything you want, attention that can suffocate you and a life that’s way too comfortable, you’re prone to seek more thrilling things, you grow to crave something that will get your heart pumping like it wants to escape your body. Chance couldn’t sit around with fancy clothes, hearing business related stuff and act ‘accordingly’ his whole existence, he needed the excitement, even if that meant crossing the line sometimes, like, getting involved with the mafia, not in the spicy way he wanted, doing drugs, getting black out drunk, walking into things he isn’t supposed to see because he’s poking his nose in the wrong kind of places, attending orgies, letting himself be kidnapped for money, drinking spiked up beverages at the bar, both to save the intended target and because he thought it’d be funny, gambling, but that’s pretty well known… And befriending a well-known exploiter and scammer.

Even if that had led to…

“I won’t ask…” Guest interrupts his train of thought by talking and shoving a third digit to make company for the other two. He groans, feeling his hole get stretched. It’s a huge turn-on but it still burns slightly at the absence of good lubrication, and it’s not like the veteran has bony fingers that are easy to bear either.

“You won’t? Seriously? My sexual history is pretty interesting…” Chance says mid-groan. “It goes all the way from spanking to drenching myself in fake blood, claustrophilia… I’ve even done feet stuff, not a fan of that one thought, I’d rather feel a little bit of fear and anxiety while getting my brains—“

“What’s wrong with you?” Guest squints, dragging his fingers out of them, even if he struggles a bit as they’re getting sucked into clamped muscles. If scientist bashed Chance’s skull open and inspected his brain, he doubts they could find a reason for his unusual fetishes, or the reason he even acts like he does to begin with.

“People with too much time on their hands do crazy stuff.” Chance shrugs, somehow, that pretty much clears everything up. “You should use this situation of yours to figure yourself out, too, it can be exciting.” He adds and then feels the tip of the gun press against his entrance.

Guest breaths, keeping one of his legs apart from the other, so he stays spread for him. “I think I’m learning enough about myself already.” He admits, he never thought he’d be okay with the concept of his team technically free using him, or that he’d be turned on by being talked down to, objectified, fucked until the brink of exhaustion, and being slightly pampered.

He remembers how Dusekkar had held him after cleaning him up, cuddling him while he faded off to sleep and then being woken up with a nice gesture such as cake.
It was… unusual, he’s usually the one doing the pampering, turns out, he liked it just as much as he liked doing it.

Everyone deserves to be spoiled, he guesses.

“I’d keep up with the conversation, big guy, but I really need that inside of me.” Chance says, urging his hips against the object.

Guest decides not to comply so easily. He’d take on the gambler’s advice and see just what gets him going.
“…Plead for my mercy.” He says, almost shy, but he manages not to stutter, it comes out firmly as if he were on the field.

The gambler blinks, now it’s his turn to be shocked, he smirks. “Woah, this got dark real quick, huh?” He can keep up with the role-play. They squirm, their face is flushed with embarrassment, they won’t admit it, though. It’s always been like this, he gets nervous every time someone follows or one-ups him at his own game.

“Oh…Please, don’t!” He tries. It’s absurd, it sounds like someone acting in some cheap DvD movie you’d probably get at a flea market, and more often than not… it’s just porn.

“Come on, you can do better than that.” Guest mocks him, being a bit cruel, but only because he’s slightly petty about being told the same thing when he was trying his best.

Chance huffs,

Alright, if he can’t do words, he’ll have to do actions. He tries to back away, Guest understands what’s happening quickly and grips one his thighs, making the size difference between them be known as his hand encapsulates most of his thigh, he’s dragged back forcefully and then folded back like a chair, his knees on each side of his head, he looks up with surprise and interest, his shades crooked to the side.

Guest swallows to prepare himself for what he’ll do next, he experimentally and impulsively slaps the gambler, their shades fall off, and their fedora fully slides off his head. “Don’t do that again or I’ll blow your fucking brains out, understood?” He narrows his eyes, managing his meanest look.

Thankfully, he doesn’t get a panicked stare, instead, there’s a moan and legs spread further apart in front of him. Chance really wants to compliment the guy, but he chooses not to, not wanting to snap them out of their incredible act. “I’m sorry…” he whines out, the grin full of ecstasy on his face says otherwise.

“Quit your useless whining.” Guest scoffs, pushing the beginning of the gun into their tight hole, the muzzle goes in and the barrel follows behind, “Ffuck!…” Chance lets out a loud groan as the veteran manages to get it all the way to the trigger guard, which is pretty much all that can go in.

“Spit on me…” The gambler says quickly, adjusting to the intrusion. “Please—“ Saliva is splattered on his face. Guest hadn’t hesitated, and that almost made him cum right on the spot.

“Open that mouth of yours. Don’t waste my time, got it?” The veteran orders. They don’t hesitate either and do as they’re told, eventually, they’re drinking up spit like a dirty pig, even sticking their tongue out so it slowly rolls down to his throat. “Look at you, what a pathetic excuse of a man.” Guest tries not to immediately apologize when he says that.

He feels better when the other lets out another curse under their breath. “You want me?” Guest asks, dragging the gun out and ramming it back inside as his free hand reaches to wrap itself around the other’s hard cock, which twitches at the slightest contact.
Chance nods quickly, grinding against the hand that embraces him and moaning like a slut when the gun is slammed back inside, it settles deeply in his ass, serving as some kind of dildo.

“I need you, Guest,” He says between panting, “I swear— I’m going to… I’m…” Another slap is delivered across his face, he’s never seen the veteran look at someone with such a look in their face. He finds it inevitably hot.

“Use your words.” Guest scowls. This was sending a rush up his spine. Who knew that being cruel would feel so good for him?

“I need you to ride my pathetic dick…” Chance almost sobs, his back arching with need, he won’t cry out of pain, overstimulation, but he’s close to doing so just out of pure despair. “Please, please… I need it.” He begs
Pants are discarded and thrown somewhere on the ground. The gambler moans at the sight of the other’s well-endowed dick.

Guest positions himself to kneel over the gambler’s face, looking down at them while breathing a bit heavily with arousal, the other stares up at him, gaping slightly. “Work for it.” He states, lowering himself. Chance’s arms immediately move to wrap themselves around the veteran’s lower back and then travel down to grope each cheek to spread them apart and mouth against Guest’s hole, hips grind against his tongue, slowly shoving the muscle inside, testicles rest underneath his eyes and the blue-haired man’s dick rubs against the rest of his face with each movement where he tastes him.

They let out a muffled moan against Guest’s ass, shoving his tongue deeper as the man groans above him. His jaw might break, but it’s all worth it.
When Guest feels like he’s about to cum, he forces the hands to let him go and gets off from the gambler’s face. He pants, they’re both staring at each other, their heavy breathing fills up the area that’s supposed to be meant for another kind of more innocent playing.

The gambler was on the verge of their climax too, with the gun still deep inside him and the taste of Guest’s ass in his mouth, he’s sure it’d only take a touch for him to burst. The veteran doesn’t let any second go to waste, though. He goes back to straddling the man, their now wet hole lingering above a red, needy tip, they exchange another look before Guest slowly sinks his hips, letting out a sound of satisfaction as he slowly fills himself up.

Chance, on the other hand, reunites every piece of his strength not to finish right there and then, he groans loudly and lies back, throwing an arm over his eyes as he concentrates on being as loud as possible so he doesn’t focus on the feeling. He manages his breathing, when he realizes the other is taking way too long, they grip their hips and shove them down, “S—sorry, you were just, driving me insane there…” he lets out a shaky exhale, relieved as he just has to get used to the tightness around him, any more movement and he’d be done for.

A soft moan, “…I was almost finished.” Guest complains a bit, his hands resting on each side of Chance’s head, they look at each other once again, while trying not to desperately rut against the other.
The act is over, their roles have melted away. Chance doesn’t mind it, thought. It was beautiful while it lasted, now? He doesn’t want anything more than mindless screwing with only one goal in mind, having the best orgasm he’s had in a while.

“You can move.” He comments, letting go of Guest’s hips.

The veteran sighs, but he also wants this so he obeys, he slowly lifts his hips and then sinks them back down with another moan, the delicious stretch kept him wanting more, inevitably, he keeps it up, bouncing his hips up and down, his weight sending the air inside Chance’s lungs out with every impact, nonetheless, he lifts his hips to meet every bounce with his own thrusting, “That’s it… You’re my bitch, aren’t you? I can say that, right?” The gambler talks between ragged breathing and the needy meeting of hips and ass.

Guest finds himself unbothered, “Of course…” he scoffs, closing his eyes and fastening his pace, letting out a moan every time Chance’s dick hits him.

“Say it then.” The gambler smirks.

…

“I’m your bitch.” He groans, he doesn’t know if he should worry about the fact that he likes saying that. His hips keep moving in harmony with the other’s rhythm. The sound of skin on skin slapping against each other fills the lobby. “I’m— Haghn!… a slut.” He moans, this might as well be true, with how he offered himself to everyone.

“I didn’t tell you to say that, gorgeous.” Chance raises a brow, a teasing smirk on his face, he squirms a bit, he’s close, oh so close, but he really doesn’t want this to end.
Guest grunts, fucking his own ass enthusiastically. “I wanted to… You were right, I can—“ another moan, “Telamon… find new things about myself by doing this…” he admits, his back arching as he keeps bouncing up and down on the other’s cock.

Chance is too out of it to respond to that.
The gambler scratches the floor, with his ass being stretched by his gun and his dick being tightly embraced by clamped down muscles, he finds himself unable to keep up much longer.

They shakily inhale, “Choke me, quick.” Again, no hesitation, Guest does look at him weirdly, but he does it nonetheless. Strong calloused hands wrap themselves around the other’s throat, pressing down with all his might to use it as leverage to lift his hips up and down as he does so.

Chance doesn’t get the opportunity to warn the other before he comes undone underneath the blue-haired man, his head is thrown back and his loud groan might as well be heard all the way to the lake, his dick twitches inside the veteran’s tight hole, filling it up with his hot, sticky semen, which makes Guest gasp out in surprise.

“You barely…” The veteran whines, the hotness inside him making him slightly sensitive. He lets go and grinds his hips before he gets stopped by Chance, who’s trying to regain their breath.
With strength neither of them knew he possessed, Chance forces the other onto their back, his dick is pulled out in the process, it’s painful as they were still pretty much tied together by the tense insides. “Chance.” Guest warns, he’s needy too.

Chance ignores him for a small while, lifting his hips so he can pull out the gun with another loud groan.
The sex is fast paced, just like he lives his life. Dangerous, fast and reckless.

“I know, I know.” The gambler scoffs, “Just… lean against the table, I really want to see you against it.” He asks as a last request, he watches the veteran get up on trembling legs and lean back against said piece of furniture, like the pathetic being he’s acting like right now, Chance scrambles to kneel in front of him, his hands once again finding their way to grope the blue-haired man’s ass, he kisses the tip and then lets his tongue rest flat against the downside before his mouth takes the twitchy member inside.

Guest grips the edges of the table, closing his eyes, he’s already sensitive from everything he’s done before. The warm mouth bobs up and down his length, sucking on it and coating it in saliva, “Uugh…” it almost feels like a cunt, wet, squishy and easy to slide in and out of, his hands reach to grip silver hair, and ram his dick inside, the other is skilled enough to make sure no teeth scraped him in the process. Now, with his cock all the way to the hilt, inside the gambler’s throat, he taps them, encouraging him to suck.

Chance moans, sending vibrations up the length he’s fucking his throat with, “Haah… Aaah…” Guest pants, letting his head fall back as he grinds against the tight throat which closes around the intrusion, with one final thrust, he shoots his cum down into the gambler’s stomach. When he lets go, he hears the other quickly separate himself to regain his breath and cough.

Seems like he still needs practice.

Guest keeps himself up with the help of the table, while Chance pants on the floor.
Steps are heard, and they both turn around. The veteran jumps slightly, startled by the sudden presence, and the gambler’s eyes widen, not expecting this turn of events.

“Are you both finished?” It’s Elliot, their face red as their shirt, while they try to cover it by tilting their visor downwards. “Noob and I wanted to use… um, the dance machines?” They’re ashamed about interrupting the others’ activities.

Noob peeks into the area, “Woah, did you both do it on top of the eight-ball table?” They ask, squinting as their face is pulled into a small grimace, then they shrug, they suppose it isn’t that bad, since they don’t even use those anyway.

“I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.” Builderman chimes in, he had walked upstairs to get a book just to see the commotion, and walk over to check out what’s going on.

Chance pulls his shirt down, trying to cover himself. Meanwhile, Guest, despite his pale skin having a visible dark blush, he doesn’t care enough to try to keep some of his dignity, figuring he’d be seen like this by everyone eventually. “Alright! I think it’s best if we leave.” The gambler says before reaching for his pants, quickly sliding them on, and then shoving Guest’s clothes into the man’s arms.

The blue-haired man looks unbothered. He even waves at the others with a calm smile as he’s dragged out of the area.
“Chance, you forgot your gun.” Elliot sighs, walking up to the object and crouching down to get it.

“Don’t!” The gambler shouts, walking back to grab the weapon himself. “You really don’t want to touch that with the hands that feed us, man.” He says, with a serious expression.
Elliot almost cries when he catches on to what could have happened to that gun, his eye twitches while he turns to look at Chance.

Guest snickers softly at the scene. Builderman looks puzzled, tilting his head, and Noob whistles, now uncomfortable and also aware of the implications.

“I’m never going near you ever again.”

The statement is the very embodiment of honesty, since Chance doesn’t get any pizza for three rounds until he apologizes for using the game room for sex purposes.

In the end, though,
It was all worth a shot.

Notes:

NEXT UP: Taph

Chapter 4: A Pleasing Trap

Summary:

With his mouth agape and his eyes wide, his hair is brushed back by Taph’s hand, ‘soothing’ him as the tendril strokes his cheek, leaving a wet strike of fluid across his face, at least he’ll get some lubrication this time. Guest feels the tip of the tentacle touch his lower lip, he completely directs his gaze up to Taph, who tilts their head, and pets him once again.

This is so condescending.

“That’s… not human.”

Notes:

CW: Vomit, Crying and Bondage.

I thought about those Guest mains that just emote in some corner of the map while re-reading this lmao.

“👋”

Guest jumps slightly at the sudden touch on his shoulder. Even after a bunch of military training, he can’t do anything against Taph’s sneakiness, his steps were way too silent.

It’s been five consecutive rounds since his time with Chance. His great resistance has helped him keep up, unlike the gambler who’s been failing to keep their weak legs going, but even he is human, and no matter how much this place has toyed with their ‘humanity,’ he needs a break, soon. In search of letting himself rest, he decided to focus on generators this round, trusting that Shedletsky would protect the team in his place.

“Taph.” Guest greets, separating his gaze from the generator he’s knelt in front of. “Didn’t hear you approach.” He adds, the demolitionist nods, not signing anything else before silently kneeling beside him, starting to place a tripwire behind one of the mansion’s entrances and then walking back to help with the generator.

“You’re always busy placing those around, huh?” Guest chuckles, he hasn’t had the chance to interact with the guy much since they’re always on the run, trying to sneak around and place their traps in every good corner or around Builderman’s machines. He can’t blame them, the killer would change targets immediately once they spotted where they were.

The tripmines could truly be a difficult obstacle during a chase, even more so since the demolitionist had already memorized each map, his strategic mind rapidly planning where to put each one of his traps at every start of any round. Out of everyone, he adapted the fastest, perhaps after himself and Chance.

Taph glances at him, “☑️” He signs before connecting another wire, the generator’s bar reaches complete fullness, a bright green line now announcing it’s finished. The veteran stands up, letting his hands fall onto his hips as he looks down with a satisfied smile, which only disappears when he notices the time go up, signaling the death of a teammate nearby.

He should go help…

The ache in his body begs him to stay low for a longer while, though. He hesitates before walking up to the next generator. He’s sure the others would understand, they’re all aware of his current task of ‘assisting’ his teammates, so there shouldn’t be any problems if he decided to be… less efficient.

As he works on yet another one of the generators, something that is slowly getting repetitive, making him wonder how 007n7 or Noob haven’t gone crazy doing this the whole time they’ve been here, he glances at Taph, who’s still near him, working on the same area of the map as him, a tripwire in his hand.

His head tilts, he’s always been curious about the support’s abilities, he’s closer to the sentinels since they all share a cabin, and he’s familiar with Elliot’s pizza or Builderman’s machines, but he barely sees the demolitionist during rounds, he’s sneaky, and works mostly in the shadows, making sure the killer doesn’t find him while he sets traps all over the map.
Naturally, he’s drawn to walk up to the shorter Robloxian, trying to look friendly as he notices the guy hug the tripwire to his chest.

He comes across as incredibly shy for someone who handles bombs.

“👁️” The emoji pops up, just as the demolitionist looks up at him, he looks slightly ominous, with their cloak and the silence that follows him. Guest offers them a small smile, trying to establish a conversation, “Does that wire have a limit? I’ve never seen you place one down before.” He starts with an honest question, he’s seen their traps more times than he’s seen the guy, the wire is always placed in different lengths, so he wonders if it can just… extend all over the map.

Taph stays still for a bit before slowly shaking his head to indicate a negative answer. Huh, how long can that thing go, then?

“Can I try?” Guest suddenly asks, surprising them both. His hands itch to punch, his being shakes with the need to protect the others, but knowing he cannot push his body to its limit, he tries to help in any other way he can.

The demolitionist looks down at the extended hand in front of him. He places one of the trip-wire’s ends on the waiting palm, keeping the other, they’re outside of the ‘spooky’ mansion, so they could place a long trap along on the front.

“🫵👇🏼” He signals at one of the area’s exits, and walks to stand on the nearest corner, encouraging the other to do most of the job.

The veteran nods, eager to find out how this infinite trap works. He begins to walk, watching the length keep going. It’s a long string, surprisingly resistant since it doesn’t feel fragile when he thugs on it. He reaches the end of the mansion and keeps walking, heading to the black gate-like thing. He kneels to place the trap, just for it to turn red. He raises a brow, he cannot place the tripwire down.

He tries to back up a bit and place it down again, but it’s no use. Not wanting to waste anyone’s time, he stands up and walks over to Taph, a bit disappointed and embarrassed about not being able to fulfill the task he was given.

“I don’t know where I can place this.” Guest explains, a small shyness in his voice as he stands ‘confidently’ in front of the other, who looks at the now long wire between them, curling on the floor. The veteran feels like a kid, staring dumbfounded at their teacher when what they were told to do didn’t work as they expected.

Taph looks up, they tilt their head, the lack of signing deepens the silence, suddenly, the smaller Robloxian starts to run in circles, surrounding Guest’s frame as said man tenses up at the wire wrapping around his body, he blinks, caught off guard once again by his teammates’ erratic behavior, nonetheless, he laughs, amused at the same time.

He scoffs, “What are you planning, bud?” A question, he seriously can’t figure out the cause of this, he finds it slightly… cute, it’s a bit condescending to think so, as his comrade is probably around his age, but the large cloak and running around isn’t helping their case, once he is wrapped with what seems to be half the length of the wire, he raises a brow at the demolitionist, the smile on his face staying, still too endeared to have any other expression on his face.

“♥️”

Huh, he hadn’t expected that to pop up.

Just as he stares at the red heart appearing on top of Taph’s head like a text bubble, which he has always found cartoony ever since he’s seen it happen, the demolitionist starts spinning in circles, wrapping themselves with the wire, leaving just one of their arms free before they let themselves fall against Guest. The veteran is shocked when instead of the feather like weight he expected to hit his chest, he finds himself unable to stand against the weight that crashes onto him, hitting him like a demolition ball and making him crumble underneath it, his back hitting the wall behind him, the stairs of the haunted mansion covering their frames from one of the map’s perspectives, as it leaves them visible to anyone who walks up to them from the front side.

How is he so heavy?!

Immediately, fabric rubs against him, his eyes glance to look at Taph, who’s nuzzling his cheek while spamming “♥️” with his unusual, but characteristic text bubble. The wall supports them both, the demolitionist straddles him, cuddling up against him like a needy feline.

“What’s gotten into you?” Guest chuckles, squirming a bit.

Taph gets their face against him. Now that he’s forced to stay underneath the guy, he notices they’re slightly intimidating, their mysterious breeze giving him a sense of the ‘unknown,’ both making him feel naturally pulled towards him and instinctively cautious, some part of his mind whispering for him to be careful, as they sense the other plotting. He doesn’t suspect any ill intent, but the guy has him walking on eggshells, not knowing how to act in this situation. “🪤🫵” The demolitionist signs, a teasing glint in the way he tilts his head.

Guest smiles, looking up at them, “You caught me.” He nods, staying seated while he feels a hand grasp his face before Taph’s forehead is pressed against his.

“♥️”

What’s with the hearts?

He feels a sudden pressure against his crotch as his comrade moves, making him flinch, surprised at the sudden action. His memory is refreshed with the simple movement, his new ‘chore.’ “Oh, you want to?…”

Another nod, more enthusiastic than the last. Taph’s chest collides against his. There’s another roll of hips, his breath hitches. Out of reflex, he tries to spread his legs as far as he can, which isn’t much. For some reason, the tripwire is incredibly resistant, only breaking upon contact when it comes to the killers. He doesn’t suggest untying themselves up, he guesses this is another one of those situations where his teammates wish to express their desires with him and experiment a bit during their time together.

His hips jerk at the next wave of friction. He can feel his dick slowly starting to harden, with every moment where the demolitionist ruts against him, their ass makes repeated contact every time they do so, making him enjoy this along with them. His body chases the friction, trying to get more, anything that sends a rush up his spine, in a place where pleasures are little to none, he’s become addicted to the joy that these ‘bonding’ activities with his teammates bring.
Guest groans, his eyes shift to look at Taph again, who catches his gaze, somehow, he can’t tell since none of their facial features can be seen or have been seen ever since they’ve all gotten here, perhaps that’s the explanation to his surprise when he watches the demolitionist bring their only free hand up to their face, setting on the piece of fabric that covers half of their already hidden face.

Out of respect, he looks away and closes his eyes. He lets himself be guided, now blind to whatever comes next, the same hand sets on the side of his face, tilting his head, something wet settles on his chin, traveling down, he tenses, not expecting the feeling. Taph’s tongue leaves a wet strike across the length of his neck, savoring him. He cannot see, but he can feel how a mark is sucked into his neck, it isn’t the first touch that will stay for a while on his skin, but it’s the first one to be left on a visible part of his body.

He’s sure Dusekkar’s grip on his hips is still slightly visible, and that Chance’s nails, which dug into his skin during their time together, left angry red marks that haven’t faded either.
Neither has the delicious soreness surrounding his lower area.

The soft kisses travel down before the tenderness morphs into hunger, which bites ferociously into his flesh, leaving him to gasp out and to squeeze his eyes to keep them closed, his hands clench at his sides, the wire keeps him still as he can be, another grind has him whimpering, the teeth let go, his hair is carefully ruffled, as if to pacify him before lips settle on his, he doesn’t dare to let himself hesitate, he opens his mouth before those same teeth that are clashing against his, bite down his lower lip. Taph seems happy with receiving what he wants before he has to ask for it with actions. Their tongue explores the insides of the other’s mouth, letting their own warmth relish on the hotness of the submissive muscle that’s against his. He deepens the intrusion, since something so rough and full of starvation can barely be called a kiss, his long tongue licks the entrance to the blue-haired man’s throat, who chokes. He loves the sound and yearns to hear it again.

A moan vibrates against his mouth. He pets them again, soothing the veteran.
Then, another whimper, another wordless plea.

They’re tied together by wire, with their bodies against each other, hardness pressed against hardness, wet mouths smashed together, every inch of their bodies moving, searching for friction. Taph can only hope they find themselves conjoined, with his member deep inside and pressing against an already sensitive bundle of nerves, before he craves to get rid of his destructive needs any other way.

“Ahh…” Guest pants against his tongue. Taph pulls away, watching the drool slowly ooze out of the corner of the veteran’s mouth. He stares intently at the wet mess, he’d love to leave their hole like that soon, gaping, winking and wet.

Pre-cum taints Guest’s underwear, an article of clothing he isn’t sure why he keeps wearing, since it’ll end up tossed somewhere in this realm anyway. When he opens his eyes, the demolitionist’s face remains a mystery. He breaths, staring down at the now covered mouth. Taph also looks at him, taking in the way he’s already a little bit messy. He can’t wait to ruin the veteran.

He needs to wreck something, despite believing he’s beyond being just a tool to discard things when they’re no longer useful. He just follows orders, somehow, that just earned him hate.

Taph unwraps himself from the wire, feeling slightly vulnerable without his tripwire close. He likes the feeling of safety, being roped together against one of the team’s protectors feels warm.

“Not freeing me?” Guest asks, now more composed, he has a playful look on his face, the demolitionist doesn’t dislike it, but now he wonders if the veteran is taking this task way too seriously. He discards the doubt, though, and shakes his head, denying the other ‘liberty’ from his bindings.

Guest doesn’t protest, staying still for the other, presenting himself like a gift. He’s willing and offering his body to the demolitionist, a glint can be seen from underneath their hood, their face is like a void, nothing can be seen under that cloak. It adds to the mystery, like he’s actually trapped by someone dangerous, it’s a bit thrilling, but he still wants some reassurance, not a fan of being way too vulnerable, even if he’s confident he can snap the tripwire. Taph seems to sense this, he gets close to the veteran once again, his head nuzzling their neck while his hand caresses their chest.

“✅❔” Contrary to popular belief, the signing isn’t too difficult to interpret. He nods, upon doing so, he feels the demolitionist pull back, settling on their knees, which are slightly spread apart as he kneels, his hands reach to unbuckle the belt that holds the cloak together, a dark void of shadows stares back at him when said cloak is pulled open, he blinks, not believing the sight of nothingness, he even squints, darkness stares back at him. The veteran wonders how they’ll make it work, before a weird-looking tendril pokes his clothed thigh, his breath hitches, but he remains calm, looking at the unusual anatomy with slight awe, pulled by curiosity, he tries to lean closer, despite having restricted movement, as he inspects it, he deems it as looking inoffensive.

Guest relaxes, no matter how strange it looks, it is thin, shouldn’t be a pain to settle it inside, besides, either his other two… situations, he’s starting to get used to this. Dusekkar had been a big shock, he hadn’t commented much on it, not wanting to be vulgar or stare too much, but it was surprisingly long, the thickness of their member wasn’t bad either, on the other hand, Chance was slightly ‘shorter’ but thicker, a good size too.

He feels lewd thinking this.

The veteran swallows, looking up when the demolitionist stands up, he chokes on air when he watches the thing ‘extend’ revealing a thicker base and making Guest realize that what he had been looking at was the tip of it. Its dark, just like the void within the cloak, and it sizzles like fire and looks like shadows while carrying the look of a tentacle, it’s completely alien looking, and as it finishes revealing itself, the man realizes the severity of the task he agreed to, he hadn’t expected his teammates to carry oddities in their anatomy.

Now, he’s not by any means, small, he towers over most if not everyone in the team, and he’s not only tall, but big, he knows so, but he doubts that thing will be able to fit inside him, it’s almost a foot long, completely dwarfing his thick, slightly bigger than average sized dick, so now, looking at his short, quiet and sneaky comrade standing while looking down at him, with a tendril that will stay imprinted in his insides once he takes it inside, he’s obviously and understandably in shock.

With his mouth agape and his eyes wide, his hair is brushed back by Taph’s hand, ‘soothing’ him as the tendril strokes his cheek, leaving a wet strike of fluid across his face, at least he’ll get some lubrication this time. Guest feels the tip of the tentacle touch his lower lip, he completely directs his gaze up to Taph, who tilts their head, and pets him once again.

This is so condescending.

“That’s… not human.” The thought finally escapes through his mouth, surprise evident in his tone. The demolitionist does not answer, instead, he tilts the other’s chin up, a silent request for them to open their mouth.

The veteran stays speechless, intimidated by the size, he hesitantly opens his mouth, letting out a soft, partly muffled gasp when he feels the tendril slowly slide past his lips. He feels the wet tentacle on his tongue, which he tries to flatten against the downside of it, somehow, the ‘flesh’ and its fluids are slightly sweet, it lubricates his mouth, making a wet mess inside that’s mixing with his saliva. He makes sure his teeth do not scrape against the odd ‘member.’

Once the tip reaches the back of his mouth, he tries to open wider, trying to fit a little bit more. The demolitionist takes the effort as an invitation, he slowly, but suddenly starts deepening the intrusion, his genitalia touching the walls of the veteran’s throat as it closes and ‘opens’ around it. He hears a muffled gag before he hears a deep breath, he supposes the other forgot to inhale through his nose. The tendril settles inside the warm throat, taking up space as it makes its presence known, drool begins to drip out of the corner of the sentinel’s mouth, while they obediently keep their tongue out.

Guest’s mouth is stuffed, his hands clench a bit, and so does his throat. He takes deep breaths through his nose, his lips hover over most of the length, the base staying unattended, when he gets used to the feeling, his muscles relax, and he lets out a whiny moan that echoes through the tendril’s shadowy flesh, sending a shock filled with satisfaction up the demolitionist’s spine, who rewards him by petting him again.

Their gazes collide, they stare at each other, darkness looks back at glossy eyes, messy blue hair and wet lips. “💕” There are hearts again, accompanied by Taph grinding his hips against the warmth, gently throwing their head back as they fuck into Guest’s mouth.

Guest keeps his jaw relaxed, raspy and small ‘augh’ sounds can be heard with every thrust that’s delivered to his throat, his head is guided by the firm but careful grip on his hair and the needy grinding of hips that keep his lips apart.

There’s no sound, no words, but every move Taph makes, speaks for him. The hand on his hair, the desperation within his hips, the arousal, everything. The next thrust leaves his desire clear as some of the remaining length of the tentacle is forced inside of Guest’s mouth, completely invading his throat as they choke, breathing quickly through their nose as they try to keep up, tears prick his eyes out of reflex.

Dark, teary eyes look up pleading, for mercy. He looks so submissive like this, on his knees, completely tasting Taph while he lets himself be used

The grip on his hair tightens.

The veteran’s throat is full, barely any air flow is getting past, he groans, the grinding is violent by the end, before a burning, sticky hotness oozes directly down his stomach, feeding him for today, leaving his insides warm. When Taph lets go, dragging his hips back, making the tentacle slide out with a gushing sound.

The intrusion’s departure is brutal. It punches Guest’s gag reflex. Without meaning to, his stomach squeezes into itself, making him bend over, gripping his sides as he lets out a disgusting gagging sound, and coughs, choking on the moisture that he can feel inside of his throat in the moment. With a shaky inhale and no warning, bile pours out of him, rushing up his esophagus with haste, the acid burns him and streams down his tongue, falling onto the ground below them with a damp, heavy sound.

Eating isn’t a necessity anymore, they do it for the pleasure and want of feeling alive, to feel more normal. Even if there’s barely any food in this realm.

Now,

The contents of a shitty diet that consisted of pizza, cake, and soda lies between them both.

Tears roll down white, tinted cheeks, the veteran shakily pants, trying to recover as their eyes look up at the demolitionist, who doesn’t back away from the grossness on the ground. He steps over it, eventually crouching down to straddle him. The fabric is pulled down again, it’s still a dark void, seems like he didn’t have to close his eyes after all, Taph’s face is completely covered by the hood.

He wonders if the guy even has a face at this point.

His chin is kissed, a small remnant of vomit is cleaned off his cheek before what he guessed to be ‘lips’ press against him, the same slightly longer than average tongue presses in, tasting the bitterness that’s left traces of flavor all over his mouth. Guest whines, he’s as disgusted as he is turned on, he pushes back, making sure their tongues twist together while their lips push against each other.

Taph likes the taste of struggle.

His tongue wraps around the inferior one, making the veteran wince as his mouth stays open, heaving while his tongue is licked and sucked on. Blue hair is pulled back, marks are kissed into pale skin, thighs are gripped, and the man trembles underneath his touch, like he’s pushing all the right buttons. Guest is still trying to recover, groaning with each touch, the sour taste of his vomit still in his mouth, when the tongue pulls out and lips separate from his, he gasps, heaving while he tries to compose himself, it’s weird, to ‘slack’ off in a round, he’s truly never done so before, always trying to protect each one of his teammates to the best of his possibilities.

Unlike the others, he wasn’t given anything to aid the chase, instead, his movement was only limited by an unknown ‘force’ making his hands freeze when he tried to throw a second punch, the same things happens with any other of his ‘abilities,’ his body moves on determination and will, his capacity to ignore the ache in his bones, the bruises on his flesh, and his worn out mental state. This was a coping mechanism for him too.

Just because he was gifted with more resistance than the others, which could be the only thing that was modified to make him fit these twisted eternal games, doesn’t mean he could take on everything, a shield eventually breaks under constant pressure.

He wouldn’t let the cracks snap, though.

This agreement benefited him, too.

The wire is torn off from around his waist, leaving only his arms pressed against his sides, and the restraint around his legs slightly loose, he has a concentrated frown as he looks at Taph from under his short eyelashes, he glances down as his belt is unbuckled before the lower part of his uniform is pulled down, when they reach his knees, the demolitionist pauses.

“🐶🧎‍➡️🫵”

He blinks at the signs, he slowly catches on, a rose like hue tints his face, his expression doesn’t crumble into shyness though, he nods calmly and tries to get into the position, he knows how to move despite being tied up so it isn’t as difficult as most would think, it’s just… vulgar to get himself on his knees, offering his still covered ass up in the air as his chin and part of his face are pressed against the ground, the putrid smell of his vomit still nearby.

A hand rests on his ass, squeezing one of the cheeks before dragging the dark boxers down to the man’s knees along with their uniform. The slick tendril wraps around the half-hard member hanging between the veteran’s length, who lets out a growl-like groan, trying to rut against it.

While Taph’s genitalia toys with the twitching human dick, squeezing from time to time while stroking it, he takes advantage of the now relaxed pleasured body, his fingers gather lubrication from his tentacle, scooping up the goo before forcing two fingers into the winking hole that’s revealed when he spreads pale cheeks apart, the willing body helps the process, as its calm thanks to the stimulation it’s receiving.
“Ghnn… haah!—“ Guest lets out a breathy, raspy gasp while he’s stretched once again, the two digits quickly pumping into his already abused hole, forcing the tight ring to loosen up. The third digit being pushed in time with his dick getting squeezed makes him yell out in pleasure. He didn’t think he’d be this sensitive and overwhelmed by touch this soon.

Digits are pulled out of his ass, leaving his gaping entrance empty, when the strange anatomy slides off his dick and slithers to feel his hole, he’s intimidated by the reminder of its size, he spreads his legs a bit more, his breath hitches as the thin tip slides in, followed by the rest of it.

It’s weird, it’s wet, it slides inside easily thanks to the natural lubrication. Guest trembles as it’s slowly inserted into him. It brushes his sweet spot and makes him tense up. He lets out an uncomfortable sound when it literally reaches the end. His teeth are gritted and he can feel the thin tip tease the deep end. The veteran chokes when he realizes it isn’t the whole length, “I don’t think that’ll fit.” His deep but airy, and coarse-sounding voice says, partly trying to convince the other to just leave half of it inside.

He knows his teammate does not talk, but he really does not get any kind of answer, he just feels the tip curl up, stretching him further as it moves to make space for the rest of it, sacrificing length and instead giving him girth, which is just as overwhelming, he whines, letting out a sharp cry when what’s left is slammed inside, the base of the tentacle now embraced by his flesh, his ass completely against hips. His eyes slightly roll back before his gaze settles on the wall in front of him again. He’s so full.

As the tendril settles inside of him, he lets out another muffled moan. The weight in his stomach feels odd, and it’s kind of painful, but oh, does it feel good.

“You’re…” He wants to express himself, but he moans instead when his hips are harshly gripped and a chest presses against his lower back, reminding them both of the ridiculous size difference between them. Taph clung to the veteran like a small dog mounting one twice its size. They aren’t short by any means, but Guest and some other survivors are still taller than them.

Their tentacle-like dick explores every inch of the tight, hot insides, as if memorizing every wall, every fleshy bump, everything.

Hips are dragged back, the slithering length is pulled out before Taph slams back inside, delighted at the loud sound that comes out from the veteran. Now encouraged by the moans, he enthusiastically thrusts, making sure to make the sentinel whimper when he ‘stabs’ his sweet spot with his tendril, changing the angle completely to fuck it over and over again.

The veteran trembles underneath him, bracing for every slam, feeling how his rectum stretched around the intrusion, how the slick that it produced made his hole wet, producing slimy sounds every time they make contact, it echoes, truly obscene sounding, the excess fluid squirts out of the entrance, the fullness pushing it out. Guest feels his throat go raw, probably irritated from the blow job, the vomit and now, the intense moaning that’s forced out of his throat like everything else, his hands can’t cling to anything, his legs are kept open, his hair is pulled back, making him groan as his back arches, letting himself be fucked into over and over again, as if he’s meant for it, to offer himself like a five star meal to every hungry survivor within this realm.

He tries to stay in the moment, it’s obvious he’s enjoying it, still, his obligation to stay on duty in dangerous situations like the one they’re all in nags him in the back of his mind, even more so since there’s only four of them left, the other half probably has the killer on their tails meanwhile the other is shamelessly fucking in a very open space, only covered by the mansion’s stairs, which barely do any coverage as anyone who crosses one or the poisonous river’s bridges and walks straight into the haunted mansion would probably catch them going at it like animals. Guest hadn’t thought much about this when the cola had pointed at him, but now, he wonders if things would be like this from now on, with him sometimes staying on the sidelines to be used like a cheap fleshlight, and then be left with a big fat load dripping out of his ass.

Nails dig into his ass, the thrusts don’t relent, they only fasten, slamming into him like his guts deserve to be punished. The exaggerated length knocks the air out of him with every movement, forcing a gasp to escape him. He grits his teeth, and a small growl escapes him. “Taph…” He manages to say between the panting, his legs shake, he’s sure he’s about to burst, the undeniable pressure tells him so, he moans, trying to warn his arrival before he screams, curling up into himself as he dirties the floor with yet another bodily substance.

He breathes heavily as his legs shake, his now soft member hanging weakly between his thighs, his rosy tip tinted with some whiteness that oozes out of him.

Even as he’s sore, overstimulated and in need of a break, the pace does not stop for his sake, his shoulders are pushed down and he can feel the demolitionist pull themselves up a bit, their hands rest on his lower back and before he knows it, his head is stepped on, he gasps, surprised as his cheek is pressed against the ground, and he’s slammed into, the rhythm does not dissipate, it slows down but the harshness does not seize, making his dick jerk forward as his ass is pounded into.

“…Taph.” He now whines, craving comfort from the roughness he’s receiving. No can do, he’s slammed into again, forcing more of the tentacle’s endless producing slick out of his entrance, “Aah…” He heaves against the floor, “You’re— way too… big.” Telamon, he sounds fucked out, his brain has been turned partly into mush, now he’s spilling out nonsense he’d never say sober, he sounds stupid.

Seems like that was the wrong thing to say, the demolitionist is ruthless this round. He’s now pummeled into, like a million vicious bullets. His head could almost be crushed underneath the force of using it as support and leverage for every thrust he receives, nails dig into his lower back, leaving some marks that will fade away quickly, unlike the others. In the meantime, they stay a furious pink on his paper white skin, making a very visible contrast. This kind of vulnerability he’s experiencing produces tears to slip out of his eyes, bringing back a sentiment long buried with layers of strength he was forced to sprout. He mewls, the pleasure and need for more becomes one with the feeling of helplessness.

Taph might be silent, but the way they fuck him, it speaks on its own, leaving it clear, without words, that they’re vicious for this.

Of course, there’s no warning when hot semen shoots into his insides, filling him up with unstoppable warmth, since the orgasm is slow. The foot stops stepping on his head. Taph returns to a more normal position, pressing himself against his back once again, his head nuzzling it from behind while he desperately makes fast but small thrusts during his long climax.

“Hghnn…” Guest groans, breathing tiredly as he feels like he might burst under the endless pouring of seed, he squirms, overwhelmed by the temperature of it. “How… is it that much?” He asks, throat dry and panting as he curls up again, trying to soothe himself. It feels great, but he feels on the brink of insanity at how overstimulated he feels.

The tentacle-like dick is pulled out with some struggle, earning a wet ‘pop’ like sound when it’s released. Taph spreads Guest’s ass open, watching his load spill out the abused, gaping entrance. “🔄❔” He signs, his hand reaching to make the veteran look back at him, who seems a bit out of it.

Guest squints, trying to understand, when he isn’t quick to answer he’s gently flipped around, his limp body is heavy but easy to push around as he has no strength to stay in one position, his chest heaves up and down as his back relaxes against the floor, his weak legs spread, and his pants are completely pulled down and out of the way, Taph crawls between the shaky pair of limbs, his dick pressing against the already used up hole once again before he slams in, making the other shout out, it’s pure luck how the other two survivors haven’t come to check out what’s going on since the sounds are loud enough to be heard across the map. The veteran whimpers the other’s name, spreading his legs further to ease the feeling while his arms are still trapped by the wire tying his torso up.

Surprisingly, said tripwire is snapped off from his frame. When his shirt and vest are pulled at and he has to assist to get them off from his chest, he realizes the only reason why he was freed. Curious hands grip his chest and before he knows it, the demolitionist is cuddling it, burying his ‘face’ against the blue body hair. “Ugh…” Guest groans, he tiredly lets his head fall back and rest while he’s groped and thrusted into, his ass recoils slightly with each movement, he can feel the other breathing in his scent as if it were some pricy perfume.

He lies back, limp like a sex-doll, he lets his entrance be rammed into in a pace that has him seeing stars, his now free arms wrap around Taph’s upper back, still covered by the cloak. This makes the demolitionist get closer, his length completely pressed into the tight ring of muscles, the thrusts are bunny like, and they don’t stop, making him grunt as he closes his eyes and frowns, clinging to the other, while his dick hardens slowly after the last orgasm, an answer to the constant stimulation, the weight, and friction his dick receives whenever Taph’s ‘stomach’ rubs against it.

“Harder…” He urges, despair now hinted in his rough voice.

The request isn’t ignored, the noises unravel, and Taph’s hips express the despair they both hold within their beings, chasing after a second satisfying orgasm that’ll make them reach pure ecstasy. “Hmgh!” Guest’s back arches, with his body sensitive from the first climax, he doesn’t take too long before he convulses once again, letting his release take over him as he goes boneless underneath the demolitionist, who doesn’t stop ramming into him, intensifying everything, he gasps, gripping the cloak as his poor cock twitches, pathetically spurting hot semen that leaves a mess between them.

Taph pulls out, watching Guest moan loudly at the extreme change of pace, from being on the peak of stimulation, he goes to an empty feeling, it’s too much, and it has him whining with his hole agape and winking as he pants like a dog. Taph crawls onto him, straddling them with his hands, steadying himself by grabbing the veteran’s collarbones.

They stare deeply at each other. The demolitionist brings a hand to wrap around his tendril, which he pumps violently, squeezing and forcing a painful orgasm out of himself that taints all of Guest’s chest, leaving his chest hair sticky, some of his cum even reaches the man’s chin. His head is thrown back, his legs tremble and with the last bit of his libido, he starts rubbing his inhuman dick against the veteran’s pecs.

The sentinel just stares, his face red as the demolitionist enthusiastically grinds in between his pectorals, practically tit-fucking him. To aid the friction, he tries to push his chest together with his hands, it creates more pleasure, even if this specific sex practice would work better if he were a woman. Taph keeps it up, dragging his dick on Guest’s pecs, savoring the feeling of the cum that has lubricated the chest, making it all the more enjoyable for him.

The veteran feels utterly used, he didn’t think this part of his body could be used for this, now, he finds himself feeling a little bit like a slut, willingly letting his body be completely used, every inch of it, he wonders how creative the others will get, how many more parts of his vessel would lose it’s pureness and be tainted by another vulgar action.

“💕” Some more hearts spawn from Taph’s being, expressing the intense delight he’s feeling at the moment, with another needy grind, his tendril twitches, lashing with overstimulation, he shivers, it hurts at this rate, but he cannot stop, he does not wish to do so.

With undying desire, he keeps moving. Eventually, like every other thing, this ends too. It’s intense. His tendril twitches as it spurts another load into the man’s chest, some of it shamelessly landing on the veteran’s face, who lets his face be dirtied by the hot, steamy fluid. Taph communicates the intensity of the orgasm by clawing at the skin underneath his touch. “‼️” Spawns above their head.

Guest looks down at his messy, heaving chest and then back at Taph. He groans, the unrealistic weight of the smaller Robloxian keeps him down with forced submission, he helplessly whines, trying to get some mercy in this overwhelming sea of sensations.

Taph does not relent, his excitement does not vanish, even if his body does not correlate with his want. The demolitionist tries to get some friction once again, just to be greeted with overstimulated pain. His dick has been rendered useless, the softness, and the way the tentacle twitches makes the fact that he’ll have to take a break obvious. Frustration washes over him. To push his limits is his instinct, he tries again, just to shiver at the stinging feeling that embraces the now sensitive area. As he looks down at the veteran, it becomes clear, a break is needed, despite how much he thinks against it.

The blue-haired man huffs. The weight on top of him makes it difficult to regain his breath. He whimpers again, looking up at the demolitionist with a pleading gaze in his eyes. “Taph…” He manages out with a broken tone, thankfully, his pleas are heard this time.

Taph gets off of him, but what he expected to be a pause from this seems to just be a change of plans, his soft dick is gently grabbed, and the hand that embraced him squeezes his length. “Aghh!” Guest gasps, his back arching as he trembles. It’s all pain mixed with burning pleasure. He tries to keep up, but his body squirms, trying to get away from the torturing strokes. His mind aches for more. He wants to shout out encouraging words, while his body yearns to get away, begging for some rest.

Tears prick at his eyes, he sobs and then gasps in surprise, he hadn’t expected to end up crying. A hiccup escapes him, his eyes wide with surprise and an unstoppable stream of small tears rolling down his cheeks, he’s outright sobbing, and he’s shocked about it.

The demolitionist tilts their head, while watching the man who he knows could stop all of this if he really wanted to. He sees himself, curled up in his house, hugging his knees, whilst anxiety and paranoia consumed him whole. He had the power to protect himself, but his body stayed frozen, he was scared, leaving him incapable of helping himself.

His movements halt, he looms over the trembling figure, his hands cup the veteran’s face, before the other realizes what’s happening, he’s already adorning wet cheeks with kisses, naively trying to make him feel better with a simple action. Guest grunts, his arms wrap around the other’s torso once again, he gets their chests flush against each other, letting the kisses fall onto more intimate places like his neck, he shivers and buries his face into the demolitionist’s shoulder, which is still covered by the loose cloak. They both breathe heavily, even if Taph’s way of doing so is by spamming “🫁💨.”

The round has gone by for way too long. When they checked with the odd technology they were given for every sick game, they found out that the other half had already been killed, and that the only ones remaining were them. A question sprouts in their minds: Why haven’t they been killed?
The question lingers in the air as the timer hits the last ten seconds, ringing across the map and making the tension fall upon them.

———••———••———

Somewhere across the map, Bluudude hangs by the graveyard, bitterly waiting for the round to end because of the timer. Upon his search for the last two survivors, he had encountered a sight he didn’t wish to remember. He had taken some steps back before running off unnoticed, his eyes wide with shock at whatever he had just witnessed. Well, he knows what he saw, but that doesn’t mean he’s not shaken by it.

He expected a smooth round where his victory would be the inevitable end, but now, he finds himself sitting beside a generator, his head resting against it while hoping this ends soon. This has been the worst round ever. Not only did he see what he saw, but he also lost… and lost one of his idols, too! His mood has been soured, and so has his view on the blue-haired survivor.

——••

The timer announces the end of the round, just then, do Taph and Guest realize they haven’t dignified themselves. Lewd marks can be seen on white skin. The cloak, still unbuckled, leaves the tendril visible to anyone. The hugging? Doesn’t help their situation.

Neither does the fact that they’ve spawned back at the lobby, on the survivor’s table, right on top of it.

Guest’s breath hitches, and he looks up to see that Taph has frozen up, sitting up rapidly and keeping their hands on his torso as support. The veteran raises a brow and arches his neck, looking back as he stays lying down on his back. He’s greeted by the upside-down image of Builderman staring disapprovingly at them both, and some of the other survivors that were in the round peaking behind him.

This makes the veteran slightly self-conscious, but he stays calm, blinking at them and staying quiet.

Oppositely, Taph signs, “😣😖” Nervously, as he looks at the judgmental stare of his superior.

“I didn’t know you packed that monster, Taph-y.” Chance laughs, resting his elbow on Builderman’s shoulder, who just spares him a questioning look. “Bet we’ll have soldier-boy here walking like a newborn fawn for the next couple of rounds!” They cackle, more than amused at the situation in front of them all.

“Chance.” Builderman warns.

The gambler lets out an uncomfortable chuckle, “Alright, I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, builder.” He winks behind his shades, dumbly unaware that the action cannot be seen, and backs away, now hiding behind Elliot, who snickers at him.

“I believe this arrangement is getting out of hand, perhaps it’d be better to suspend this whole thing.” Builderman sighs, his arms crossed as he puts his say in the matter.

Guest opens his mouth to answer, but gets interrupted by the gambler, who doesn’t seem to know when to shut his mouth. “What?! Builder! Don’t be a party-pooper, man! This has been the best thing to happen ever since we’ve all been trapped here. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to the others, would it?” They quickly defend the agreement, it was their idea after all.

“This place is reeking of vulgarity. I do not like it.” Builderman grimaces, this was too inappropriate, and in his opinion, they’re all starting to act like horny animals, unable to keep it in their pants. So far, this arrangement has only made the survivors act the opposite of accordingly.

“Hypocrite.” Shedletsky chuckles, standing beside the man. “Isn’t prohibiting this exaggerating?” The swordsman questions.

“And Chance is right, I still haven’t gotten my turn.” He grins, looking down at the veteran, who blushes when they make eye contact while his legs are still widely spread for Taph, his agape hole leaking some of the demolitionist’s cum onto the table.

Upon hearing two complaints and no points in favor of his statement, Builderman sighs, “I suppose we’ll have to hold another meeting to discuss this problem.” He explains, not changing his mind despite the groans that can be heard from some of the team members who are present during this.

“We all died because of this, it’s better if we talk about it.” The start of all creation scoffs. “Now, let’s allow our comrades to tidy themselves up.” He says, now more calmly and friendlier sounding, before he leaves, Shedletsky follows behind, and so do the others, leaving along with the pair.
Guest watches them leave with his flushed face before looking up at Taph, who also looks down so they can share a stare.

The demolitionist tilts their head like a pigeon once again, trying to get a good look at his expression.

They both silently agree on one thing.

They wouldn’t hear the end of Builderman’s scolding speech when they’re seated at this same table later on.

…

What a scandal.

Notes:

As always, proofreading will be done later, so excuse any errors once again.

Also, change of plans!

NEXT UP: Builderman
(Hope you guys are ready for some table sex and a little bit more of Taph.)

It’ll be funny going from the lack of dialogue from this chapter to the absolute yapping session that’ll be the next one.

SIDENOTE: My Summer break is over, so chapter updates might be even slower. (I don’t fucking know why I chose to specialize in a medicine related field. I’m so bad at math and any kind of science, I’m scared shitless about failing, ughh.)

Notes:

Dusekkar is secretly a freak, you can’t tell me otherwise. I’m going to have so much fun writing his chapter.

SideNote: Expect slow updates, I’m impatient and published this before finishing my other two works. 😔