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It'll be fine, V'tatya had said, I'll be right behind you, he'd said, pushing Viloh to sign up first, we'll definitely end up in the same match, even if we end up on different teams, that damn liar.
Perched upon the starting platform, surrounded and looking across the arena at strangers, V'viloh clutched his staff nervously. The game had been explained, a little, that they were fighting to take control of and move a giant crystal, but the aether of enchantments laid thick upon the battlefield made Viloh's fangs itch, made colors flicker at the corners of his vision, and stirred his stomach uncomfortably. Maybe a pugilist like Tatya had no issue with the aether? Maybe, older and stronger and experienced as his clansman was, Tatya was used to it?
He had little time to contemplate, though-- a great noise sounded, and he startled, ears laying back and tail puffing up; by the time he realized it meant the match had started, the rest of his unfamiliar team was already bursting off the platform, sprinting towards the plaza holding the crystal, halfway across the area.
Cursing under his breath, he raced after them, trying to grab at the power surging around him for his first spell. "Hurry up!" someone ahead of him yelled, and someone else yelled, "Target their miqo'te!", and then he skidded around a corner and into the first clash of the teams.
Already gasping, he backpedaled a few paces, putting space between him and their melee fighters; then he set his feet firmly in place and started to cast a flame spell--
An arrow the length of his body was suddenly flying straight at him, and he froze in surprise; the blunted head had just barely brushed his bare stomach when one of the spells laid over the arena triggered, and he was yanked back to the starting platform in a blast of aether that made him stagger.
"Ayzema's tits," Viloh swore, and sat down heavily where he was, gulping for air. That had been-- that had been so terrifying! He wasn't hurt, no one in this game got hurt, but that was by the grace of the enchantments. If it had failed, he would have been a Miqo'bob, blunted arrows or no.
One of his teammates appeared beside him, panting and clearly shaken herself, but she just flexed her shoulders and knees, readying herself for another go. "You good, kid?" she asked, and offered him a hand up; he hesitated, then took it, letting the Roegadyn haul him to his feet with one flex of her arm.
"I'm okay," he told her, a little intimidated at how easily the woman had moved him. "I-- I'll try to get a spell off this time."
She grinned down at him, and said, "I bet you can do it!" before pulling him with her, back out into the arena.
❊❊❊
He could not, in fact, do it.
The archer is the least of his worries; twice, the opposite team's Hyuran rogue appeared behind him without even a whisper reaching Viloh's ears, and Viloh is back at the start with the barest scratch between his shoulderblades. (He's beginning to think the shirt he's wearing, which V'tatya had praised as suiting him so well, had been a bad idea, nevermind that the rogue was barely wearing more.) Three times, the opposing Miqo'te, an older man with a sword and shield and full armor the likes of which Brass Blades could only dream of, had simply bashed him into a wall with a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed grin, clearly invigorated by bullying him around the field. And once, the Lalafellin lass he'd nearly missed (with all the aether and the lights and all the taller races trying to mock-murder each other above her) had dodged between her teammates' feet, quicker than a wasp, and punched him so hard in the knee that he'd popped back to the starting platform. The only one who didn't get a hit on him was the opponents' healer, who seemed to know who to shield before Viloh knew who he was going to attack, leaving what damage he managed to do absolutely minimal.
The end result was a match where he spent more time trying to catch up with his team than actually casting spells, and only managed to get a few spells sent off by lucky distraction; and despite the rest of his team's considerable ability (to, at the very least, get slightly less destroyed every time the opposing side so much as looked at them), they end up humiliatingly trounced, panting as they trudge to the ready-room to see how they faired.
V'viloh Tia was listed soundly at the bottom of the enchanted scoreboard, and he winced at the ranking. His skills had been tested against vilekin and voidsent, against raiders and tempered, but never before against other adventurers, and he had clearly been found lacking.
The kindly Roegadyn woman thumped his shoulder with leg-crumpling comfort, and told him, "Hey, you tried! Might, uh, might try swinging a sword around or something next time, might be more your speed, but you sure tried!" and left him to stare at the board some more. Behind him, the winning team was considerably more boisterous, and the rest of his own team was chatting with them, but Viloh laid his ears back, closing them to the noise, looking at his dismal points.
Things quieted behind him, and then someone tapped his shoulder, making him jump with an embarrassing mrow! and spin around, tail lashing against his skirt. The Elezen archer-- the one who took him out at the very beginning of the match-- looked a little abashed to be bothering him, but said, rather kindly, "V'viloh, was it? I'm Florentinnel. We should negotiate the prize money-- your teammates all agreed on a hundred wolf marks each..."
Viloh looked behind him (all his teammates had already left, it seemed, while he was stewing in his poor showing), then up at the exceedingly tall man, and said, after a moment, "I thought the Wolves' Den gave out the prizes...? That's what my clansman said."
Florentinnel shrugged."They give out prizes, and the losers hand over some of what they have. No one bothers in Frontlines, there's too many people, but it's part of the fun here-- gambling some of what you have on your skill."
"Unless you don't want to pay out?" the Miqo'te paladin asked from halfway across the room. He'd been talking to his Lalafell teammate, but now his attention was on V'viloh, his own tail twitching excitably behind him.
"... I don't have anything," Viloh admitted. How could he have wolf marks? This had been his first game ever, after all; V'tatya had said it was faster and easier and less chaotic than Frontlines, which was somewhat terrifying to know after how chaotic and difficult this had been. "I've never been here before."
"Oh!" said Florentinnel, and then he glanced back at his teammates, seeking some kind of input.
"Well, that's a waste of my time," the Lalafell said, knocking her fists together, "I'm just here for the prizes." With that, she turned and strode out of the room.
The other three all looked back at the Elezen with various expressions-- but all positive ones, somehow pleased with Viloh being broke, grins from the Roegadyn healer and the paladin, a small but interested smile from the Hyur, and Florentinnel turned back towards him with a quirk of his own lips. "Then you're not aware of the alternative?" he said, and bumped a fingertip under Viloh's chin in a way that was a little, well... flirtatious, maybe?
No, probably not, people didn't flirt with you for being a broke Tia who waved a stick with a skull on it around (and apparently did it very badly).
"... My clanmate didn't mention anything," he agreed with Florentinnel, and found himself being drawn towards the rest of the opposing team with a warm hand between his shoulder blades, all four strangers' eyes on him.
A rumble of purr infiltrating his voice, the older Miqo'te said, "It's traditional, you know, very traditional," and smiled at him with the same kind of glee he'd had when he'd been trouncing Viloh in the arena.
"Lominsians have been letting losers work off their betting debts this way for centuries," the Roegadyn said, and settled his own massive hand on Viloh's lower back-- with Florentinnel's hand on his upper, suddenly every inch of his spine was pressed against warm, calloused palms and powerful fingers, and he made a startled little noise, ears flicking. "And we'll all be nice to you-- won't we, boys?"
They had not been particularly nice to Viloh in the arena, and seeing the men nod eagerly made Viloh nervous, his ears laying themselves flat back in his hair. "I don't know..." he started, hesitant, and was promptly interrupted by the other Miqo'te, the older man stepping in close.
"I had the best ratios," he said, smugly, and placed a claw under Viloh chin; Viloh couldn't back away, not with the hands pressing against his spine, though he squirmed a bit. "I think I should get to go first."
The Hyur said, "Then I would go next, and Florentinnel third... is that all right with you, Faezbhrat?"
"Oh, aye, that's probably for the best," the Roegadyn said, "go ahead, Na'kett--"
"-- Go ahead with what?" Viloh asked, annoyed, nervous, and a little exasperated, and the Miqo'te Na'kett grinned, his nose crinkling, before leaning in and rubbing his face against Viloh's, far too familiarly, his beard scruffing against Viloh's smooth cheek.
"If you won't or can't pay the winners with wolf marks," Na'kett explained, with clear relish despite-- or because?-- of the way Viloh had hissed at the liberty, "then the winners can take payment from your body, little Tia."
There were many things Viloh could say to that, such as, You're a Tia too, you arse and other such distractions, but the main point hit him like-- well, like Na'kett had hit him during the match; sudden, stunning, and with a sense that the other party enjoyed it too much. It left him spluttering, wordless, agitated with no retreat.
Beside him, his hand soothingly rubbing between Viloh's shoulderblades, Florentinnel said, "There's no shortage of adventurers who prefer a bit of l'amour over the loss of their marks... it's generally a very beneficial arrangement. Those who enjoy losing and those who enjoy winning find each other, and those who really are just here for the game-- like our teammate-- either pay or leave for a more lucrative round."
And the men surrounding him liked winning, Viloh realized, his face heating and his ears flicking uncontrollably. Moreover... they'd looked at him and decided they were all very accepting of his lack of currency...?
It was perversely flattering, and much more straightforwardly alarming. They had already more than shown they could handle anything he could throw at them, could absolutely physically and magically overpower him; and to a man, they were taller than him-- three of them weren't even Miqo'te! He hadn't slept with anyone before, but he could, at least, imagine how it might go with Na'kett. What could he even expect, sleeping with men of other races? Especially-- he glanced nervously at the Roegadyn, Faezbhrat, on his other side, who probably weighed as much as five of him, and whose forearms were near as thick as Viloh's waist. What did Rogadyns even look like, under their smallclothes? The imagination balked, and he cringed away, something that seemed to bother Faezbhrat not at all.
"This-- this can't be-- is that allowed?" he finally managed.
The Hyur answered, "No one's stopped it, and it's been going on as long as I've been competing." He leaned over Na'kett's shoulder, brushing his fingers through Viloh's hair, nails digging in at the base of Viloh's ears; his smile quirked as Viloh shuddered all over, a thrill of animal pleasure bolting down his spine despite his thinking mind recoiling from the arrangement. "If you like it enough, it can make losing just as rewarding as winning, you know."
Viloh didn't know, but Na'kett was apparently done with the sweettalking and reasoning and explaining; the older Miqo'te's hands fell to Viloh's waist, still gauntleted, the metal and leather skin-warm but harder and rougher; when Viloh recoiled a little, colliding with the hands against his back, Na'kett followed, and pressed a rough kiss to his mouth, unconcerned by Viloh's squirming. The Hyur still scratched at his ears, pressed against Na'kett's back and apparently unconcerned by all the spiky metal Na'kett put between them, and Florentinnel and Faezbraht crowded in a little closer, giving Viloh little room to wriggle and reject Na'kett's kisses.
It became even harder to struggle when Na'kett raised one gauntleted hand and scruffed him like a kitten, and instinct turned all his joints to noodles.
"Oh, that's precious!" Na'kett said, leaning back from the kissing and grinning, sharp-toothed. "You ought to train yourself out of that, letting people scruff you is a good way to lose a fight."
Viloh managed a wimpy little kitten-growl and kicked out limply with one foot, but his leather shoe did less than nothing against Na'kett's armored shin, and Na'kett simply ignored it, pressing in for more kisses, his armor pressing against Viloh's skin.
"Shouldn't you take all that off, Na'kett?" Florentinnel suggested, seemingly unbothered by the display going on between his chest and Faezbraht's.
Na'kett sighed heavily, and pulled back again. "Someone keep him scruffed and warmed up," he said, bossily; the other men apparently had no issue with his tone, because as his hand left the back of Viloh's neck, Florentinnel's replaced it, keeping him helplessly placid. The Hyur slid neatly into his place in front of Viloh, stroking and petting Viloh's hair and ears.
"You're such a pretty boy, aren't you?" the Hyur said, with a smile that seemed gentle and genuine. (But it was impossible to forget that the Hyur had agreed to this, too, was happy to participate.) He rubbed the velvety fur of Viloh's ear between two fingers, and leaned down to peck his mouth, then straightened and whispered in his ear, "I almost hoped you were losing on purpose out there. Seeing your legs peeking out from that skirt... your bare belly in that little top... I was so sure you were here to get fucked."
His face heated, and Viloh managed to wrangle his disobedient arms enough to hide it in his hands-- nevermind that no one would be able to see him blush. What did the Hyur mean? Was-- was everyone looking during the game, thinking about who they'd like to have after, striving to get the chance to--?
"Oh, you too?" Faezbhrat said, and his massive hand, which had stayed so steady on Viloh's spine, finally moved, stroking down to flatten instead over his arse and tail; Viloh's tail twitched and flicked, helpless. "A shame everyone else in his team paid up... they were all quite nice-looking." He rumbled a laugh like thunder, and squeezed, the whole of Viloh's arse grabbed easily, thick fingers as unyielding as Na'kett's armor had been. "Ah, well, now this poor boy has to satisfy all of us!"
"W-wait," Viloh whined, voice weak and wobbling from the scruffing, "They could've helped with this...?"
"If any of the rest of them hadn't wanted to pay, they could have split our attentions, yes. Or one of them could have paid your share for you to leave," Florentinnel said, "but I don't think any of them realized your situation, and, well..."
"And you're too cute to not fuck," the Hyur said, getting another rumbling laugh out of Faezbhrat.
"Ajisai is right, if crude," Florentinnel said (finally, if incidentally, putting a name to the Hyur's face for Viloh), "your face is too lovely to not kiss." As if to demonstrate, the Elezen leaned down and pressed gentle lips to Viloh's forehead, which was so incongruous from the rest of the situation that Viloh forgot to protest, staring up at him wide-eyed, getting a pleased little smile for his surprise. "Yes, quite like that," Florentinnel agreed, like Viloh had said something, and slowly loosened his grip on Viloh's neck, allowing him to move without fighting his instincts every twitch of the way.
Not that it helped much, surrounded as he was by three larger men; Na'kett stripping off his plate to the side did not make Viloh meaningfully more capable of escaping. When Ajisai tried to return to kissing him, he reflexively raised his hands to brace them against the Hyur's chest, only for his palms and fingers to the find firm, naked flesh of his pecs. Obviously he had seen that the Hyur only wore some kind of bandages strapped around his belly, but it was different from suddenly touching another man's bare chest--! He pulled his hands back to his own chest like Ajisai's warm skin had scalded him, and got a chuckle at his expense. "Oh, is the little kitten shy?" Ajisai asked, planting one of his hands on Viloh's own bare stomach. "Dressed like that? All your skin out for people to see?" Then he nuzzled in along Viloh's jaw, a smile still on his face as he kissed him into pliability, mouth sweet and light on Viloh's skin.
"V'tatya said I looked d-dangerous like this," he managed, feeling heat in his face and prickles along his spine.
"Oho! Dangerous!" Faezbhrat laughed, and stroked at the base of Viloh's tail with a finger as thick as the appendage. "Dangerously pretty, maybe. I bet your V'tatya liked the view!"
He had never considered if Tatya had looked at him, not in the same way the men around him were looking, and the idea hits him like silvervine, his heart thumping and heat spreading unevenly down his neck. Had his clanmate, his friend, really-- really liked-- was he really all that look-at-able, whatever that meant for other men?
Viloh had much to contemplate, and no time to do so; Na'kett reappeared in naught but his skin, his cock-- familiar in shape, a normal Miqo'te member, but considerably larger than Viloh's own-- already standing stiff between his legs. Ajisai moved to make room for him in front of Viloh, where he pressed in close, digging his claws in behind Viloh's ears and licking into his mouth, purring eagerly. Perhaps Viloh should have bitten and clawed and pushed him away-- but what would be the point? Where would he go?
And did he really, actually want to?
Even that contemplation would have to be delayed; Na'kett's tongue in his mouth, the roughness of it catching against his own, was disarming his defiance just as easily as being scruffed had. The older man's scent was warm-- there was sweat and cotton, leather and steel, all clinging to his scruff and skin, but also notes that Viloh's Miqo'te nose read as strong, successful, defeated me, could do it again-- and it was all the stronger when Na'kett broke the kiss and rubbed their faces together, cheek to temple, beard scrubbing against Viloh's skin and overwriting Viloh's scent with his own.
He mewled as pathetic as a kitten, melting back into Faezbhrat and Florentinnel behind him, and Na'kett chuckled. "It's that easy, huh, little tia?" he asked, a bit mockingly, but Viloh could barely muster a wrinkle of his nose. "Still used to being bossed around by your nunh? Maybe you could call me nunh, the way you're letting me at you."
Viloh's nose wrinkled more, and he managed, a bit bitingly, "You know harassing people doesn't make a harem, right, Na'kett Tia?" (Both Faezbhrat and Ajisai snorted little laughs at that.)
"Might be. Could be. You could be my first wife," Na'kett Tia said, a grin spread across his face. "But first, let's see if you'll make good breeding stock." And with that, he leaned in again, nipping and licking into Viloh's mouth, and dragged his skirt up around his hips. Without a moment of hesitation, Faezbhrat scooped Viloh up with one arm around his waist, holding him as easily as a coeurl kitten, and Na'kett had Viloh's legs up over his shoulders, folding the younger Miqo'te fully in half and pinning him against the Roegadyn wall behind him. It was as coordinated and ruthless as they had been in the match, and Viloh could only barely manage a noise of objection around Na'kett's tongue as the man set claw to smallclothes and shredded what little Viloh wore under his skirt.
Viloh jerked his head back, bonking against Faezbhrat's chest. "Hey!" he said, and kicked one foot helplessly, clawed a bit at Na'kett's shoulder, "My clothes--!"
"Won't need them," Na'kett said, blithely, which seemed very short-sighted, and ignored Viloh's growl to press forward; his cock, hard and hot and very distracting, prodded and slid across Viloh's bared rump. The smooth head was damp and slightly sticky with the older man's obvious arousal, and the growl died in Viloh's throat. That was-- that arousal was for him, that cock was hard for him, and renewed heat bloomed in his face, fretful nerves coiling in his belly. His first time-- this man was going to be the first who ever touched him like this-- and-- oh, he could barely think the thoughts; he pressed his burning face into his hands, shoulders hunched and tense.
Long, cool fingers ran through his hair, and Florentinnel said, soothingly, "Don't worry, V'viloh, we'll be gentle with you--"
"Maybe you will," Na'kett said, and ended the attempt at comforting Viloh with the head of his cock pressing against Viloh's hole.
Na'kett was not gentle, as far as Viloh could tell; he had no experience at all with this sort of thing, but he was sure the persistent pressure and eager jogs of Na'kett's hips weren't gentle. It didn't hurt, though; embarrassingly, Viloh couldn't help mewling and squirming, trapped between the strong bodies around him, as the hot head of Na'kett's cock slipped and pressed and stretched him open. He hadn't known that part of him was so sensitive to touch, to heat, to a firm intrusion, and the nervous tremble in his belly turned hot and molten as the other man closed the gap between them to nothing.
Nuzzling his cheek and brow against Viloh's concealing hands, Na'kett purred, "You like that, tia? You like my cock inside you? You like being bred like a--"
"-- I'll bite you, I will," Viloh gasped, kicking his heel over the other man's shoulder again and just barely making contact with his back. "I'll bite your stupid tongue out--"
There's snickering around them, Faezbhrat behind him snorted a laugh and it rumbled all through Viloh's body, and Ajisai said, "Oh, feel free, the rest of us wouldn't object," before a loud smack ripples through them-- Na'kett yowled in offense, turned his head and snapped at Ajisai-- the Hyur had smacked his arse, Viloh realized, and he giggled, too, despite his position, the absurdity getting to him.
"You think that's funny?" Na'kett growled, attention swinging back to him, and dug his claws into Viloh's rump. "I'll show you funny, brat."
Viloh was immediately and emphatically reminded that the other man's cock was just barely inside him, when, with a rough thrust, it was suddenly very inside him-- his giggles cut off with a strangled meow as his hole was parted open, spread around the shaft of a cock, a couple ilms all at once--
"Oh, he's so cute," someone said, and there's fingers petting his hair, a hand grabbing his wrists and forcing him to show his face, lips kissing his ears and admiring cooing-- it was all very hard to pay attention to as Na'kett pulled his hips back, and the soft spines and bumps of his shaft caught at the edges of Viloh's hole as he moved, sparks of friction--
Viloh's eyes were open, but he couldn't focus them, could barely see the man in front of him, the cock inside his hole forcing its way into his senses, his mind, driving out all sensibility and thought but itself. Na'kett was talking, maybe, but Viloh could only hear his own panting breath and pathetic meows, could only feel the heat of bodies around him and inside him-- and then the cock plunged in again, pushing him open, filling his insides in a way he'd never imagined, the head and nubs and spines dragging through him--
Na'kett found some rhythm, pulling back, pushing forward, nuzzling his scent aggressively over Viloh's as he fucked him open, and Viloh could do little more than allow it, his whole body yielding to the assault as helplessly as he had on the field. Who knew...? Who knew that a man's cock could do this to another man? He hadn't know, had never even suspected, had rarely even heard whispers that this sort of thing could be done-- maybe clans kept it from their tias, to make sure there was still competition, because if they knew they could just do this, just be fucked instead of fighting--
The hands holding his wrists let go, and he curled forward, clinging to Na'kett as the man's hips slapped against his arse, his claws digging into his sweat-dampened hair and his face buried in Na'kett's shoulder. He wasn't eager to be part of the annoying man's harem, but perhaps-- perhaps just being fucked wasn't so bad.
Maybe if he could think straight, he wouldn't agree with himself, but his stuttering, overwhelmed thoughts were jostled and jumbled with each thrust inside him, Na'kett's cock lighting up his body like a levin spell; a thrust, and lightning shot through Viloh, from his eartips to his tail, traveling his spine and splitting his mind apart like a struck tree; a slow drag of Na'kett's cock out of his hole, and every bump and spine and ilm tugging at the rim of his entrance made hot sparks spit up from his gut and burn through his stomach, until he gasped and near expected steam to escape him. Unbidden by him but uncontrollable in the circumstances, his own cock was starting to harden, with pleasure and arousal and the way his rumpled and rucked-up skirts were dragged across it as he was fucked, and each little movement against it made him let out a pitiful noise.
There were teeth biting his ear, he thought, there were hands on his arse and thighs and sides, there was more going on, but--
And then Na'kett was suddenly rougher, his claws digging into his skin, his cock throbbing inside Viloh; he whined, shuddering all over, as Na'kett buried himself deep, as deep as possible inside his hole, and bit and pet at him as he spilled inside him. Viloh could feel the man's seed, thick, warm, eagerly filling what space the cock inside him left it; he could smell the scent of the other man rubbed into his skin; as Na'kett stilled and slumped against him, he could finally string together a thought or two-- and maybe even an emotion, though he was mostly dizzly concerned that he'd enjoyed it so much that he was sad it was over. He wanted more from this obnoxious, aggressive, eager-to-fuck-him tia who teased at wanting him in a harem?
His body imagined being in Na'kett's harem, fucked whenever Na'kett wanted, more of this pressure and fullness and friction, and sang a decided yes!
Even with his face still buried in Na'kett's neck, Viloh wrinkled his nose. He had clearly been possessed by a spirit of idiocy, at least from the shoulders down--
Then, without the least bit of concern or fanfare, Na'kett pulled out of him, the long, slow drag of cock and spines out of Viloh slicked by seed, and he shuddered all over at the new twist of sensation, smoother and easier, and at the weird feeling of having nothing inside his hole. He had never had a cock in him before, no; but it seemed his stupid idiot body had already forgotten what it was like to not be fucked, and his legs shook over Na'kett's shoulders as his body clenched, seeking that absent fullness.
"He liked that," Ajisai's voice said to one side, sounding a little impressed as Na'kett shrugged Viloh's legs off his shoulders and Faezbhrat lowered him to the ground, skirt falling back around his legs and hiding what had been done to him. His knees buckled as his legs took his weight again, both from the overwhelming storm of sensation that had just swept his mind clean and the aggressive way he'd been folded in half. From the other side, big, warm hands with calloused fingertips caught Viloh's shoulders to steady him, and he listed into Florentinnel's warm arms without thought, panting and blurry-eyed-- and, he realized, still making pathetic mewling noises.
Embarrassed, he pressed his knuckles to his mouth and bit them, stifling the sounds his body was making while it was ignoring his mind, and Florentinnel hummed softly, a gentle grey-skinned thumb wiping the tears from his eyes. "You took him very well, V'viloh," he murmured, and his tone was kind and polite, like he was congratulating a party member on defeating a monster-- but, Viloh realized, leaning into him, he could feel the Elezen's cock even through his heavy clothes, hard and radiating heat where it pressed against Viloh's ribs.
Florentinnel was just as excited to have at him as Na'kett had been, no matter how gentle his manners, and Viloh was torn between fluster and his body's new yearnings.
With his legs so shaky, though, he couldn't manage to pull away; and even if he did, what then? Ajisai was on his other side, his hands stroking the fur of Viloh's tail as he chattered with a smug-looking Na'kett, and Faezbhrat could pick him up with one hand. All of them wanted to... to...
Face burning as he started to recall his situation, he hid his face in Florentinnel's chest.
"There, now," the Elezen said, ever so sweetly, and his hands pet Viloh's shoulders, his back, scratched gently at his scalp. It was soothing, and yet Viloh couldn't help thinking about the man's hard cock, hidden but obvious from this close; couldn't help thinking about how they'd been talking, earlier, about what order they'd have him in, about each and every one of them getting a turn.
Despite thinking about it at that very moment, he made a startled noise as Ajisai's hands moved from petting his tail to grabbing his sides, and the Hyur pressed up behind him, sandwiching him against Florentinnel's front. "I think he's recovered," he said, right into Viloh's ear, and thrust his hips forward; his cock had apparently been freed sometime in the past few seconds, and it rubbed against Viloh's tail, against his rump through his skirt.
"No, I--" Viloh objected, but his voice was faint and wobbling, and Ajisai ignored him.
"Floren, bring him to a bench for me," Ajisai said, "I don't need you all to be impressed by how big my muscles are."
Na'kett growled, clearly taking it as a jab, but Florentinnel laughed softly and scruffed Viloh again. He hardly needed to; Viloh was already boneless and helpless, legs shaking under him as he stumbled where he was led-- which was gently settled onto a bench, Florentinnel sitting beside him, and Ajisai standing in front of him, looking down at him with hands on his hips, a smile on his face, and cock standing proudly from his undone trousers.
It was at eye level, and Viloh couldn't help but notice how strange it was, how smooth, totally lacking in the spines and bumps on his own (or on Na'kett's). If it hadn't been a cock, if it had been an unusual variety of fruit or something, he might have reached out and touched it out of sheer curiosity at the difference; as he was now, he was of two minds-- or one mind and one body. His mind said, stop staring at it, Viloh! and his body ached, what would it feel like, smooth and gentle, is it thicker, doesn't it look thicker, is it because it's smooth--
Viloh lowered his eyes to Ajisai's knees, heat in his cheeks, and Ajisai snickered. "No use being shy, pretty boy," the Hyur said, and reached out, digging his fingers into the fur at the base of Viloh's ears, scratching his scalp and tugging him to lean forward. Viloh couldn't help a stuttering purr, even when the tugging put his forehead leaning against Ajisai's hip, the cock brushing against his cheek-- it felt nice to be pet, nice in that soft pleasant way, not like lightning down his spine but like a sunbeam across his belly.
Ajisai kept it up until his stuttering purr became a low, thrumming constant, until he was rubbing his head into Ajisai's hands and nails and touch-- he was a little embarrassed be acting like some kind of pet coueurl, but after the mind-melting way Na'kett had fucked him, it was a genuine relief to be pampered, showered with affection, friendly and regular amounts of whelming and totally lacking in Na'kett's attempts to drag Viloh into his farcical nuhn act. He could almost forget the cock was there, bumping against his cheek, until Ajisai bent over him and whispered in his flicking ear:
"Lick it, and I'll keep petting you."
His eyes had fallen closed; now, they flew open, and he blinked up at Ajisai, startled and taken off-balance. Lick it...? Lick--
Oh. Oh! Ajisai's hands had paused for a bare moment while Viloh blinked, but when he dared a glance at the Hyur's cock, he got an approving scratch. Still... that was... that was somehow, indefinably different from having something done to him, different from being grabbed and folded and helpless to prevent it. He could just... not do it, right?
Ajisai waited a patient few moments, and then, less patiently, tugged Viloh closer by the ears. "Or would you rather be forced?" the Hyur asked, voice shaped around a smile, though Viloh couldn't see it from where he was. "I can play that way, if you like. I just thought it would feel nice to have you purring around me."
"... I'll lick," Viloh said, in a pathetically weak voice, and wet his lips, turning his head so the cock bumped against his lips instead of his cheeks. He, apparently, couldn't not do it... so better to get a choice in how it was done, right?
❊❊❊
V'viloh Tia emerged into the Wolves Den late in the day, dazed, sticky, and much, much more worldly than he had been when he'd queued up for Crystalline Conflict.
V'tatya was upon him almost the moment the door to the ready-room closed behind his tail, wailing, "Viloh! Where have you been, a match is only supposed to last moments, you've been gone hours, I thought mayhaps you queued again but they said they hadn't seen you--!" He threw his arms around Viloh, and then the smells clinging to Viloh seemed to hit him like a fist, the scent of an older Miqo'te imprinted into his cheeks, the smell of Viloh's own cum in his rumpled and wrinkled skirt, the scent of physical exertions the likes of which no Thaumaturge usually indulged in.
V'tatya reeled back, blinking, and then sniffed, trying and failing to be subtle-- then his face fell, and he said, "Oh, I see."
"So you knew," Viloh said, too exhausted to be mad. His throat hurt, his voice was rough; that was, he thought, V'tatya's fault, ultimately. "You could have warned me, you arse," he said, without much heat, and grabbed his friend by the collar, none too careful with his claws. "I need a bath. I need eight baths. We're going home, and I'm never coming here with you again."
Even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true; his body, used and tired and sticky and sore as it was, already yearned to go back to the ready room, already ached to be filled again. What was it that Flornetinnel had said, when they'd been trying to sweettalk him into it?
Those who enjoy losing and those who enjoy winning find each other.
Next time, he thought, glancing at V'tatya beside him, he wouldn't lose alone.