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Stolas’ head pulled back at first, surprised by the sour taste. If the jester was at all offended, he didn’t show it. There was some halfhearted whining from somewhere just below his waist, but they were the same needy, wordless noises he’d been getting out of the imp since Asmodeus had gagged him. However long ago that had been.
With a steading breath, Stolas readjusted his hands, wrapped as they were around the backs of Fizzarolli’s thighs, glowing eyes following the impatient tick-tock of the imp’s tail above them. With a swallow, he focused once more, cheeks burning as he watched the cherry red of the swollen lips pressed together before him, the tiny excuse for underwear pushed to the side and sitting daintily where pelvis became inner thigh.
Breathing out shakily, he let his eyes close. The last thing he saw was the glint of reflected green light on that deep red skin before he pressed his beak back against it, and his tongue pressed forward.
“Mmmm…”
It was soft. Astonishingly soft and warm as the tip of his avian tongue traced where the skin met. There was a mix of the salt of sweat, the gentle tang of slick, and something else. Something comforting and warm. Like if one could hold a burning coal in one’s hands.
On his chest, Fizzarolli’s stomach worked, rocking his hips, and his folds, in slow encouragement against his beak. Stolas took the hint, pushing against the slight resistance, until his tongue was embraced on either side by the gentle heat of him. As his head began to work, tip of his narrow tongue searching by touch for his hole, he let one hand settle heavily along his back, fingertips tracking up and down his spine, while the other palmed against his tail, wrapping around him like a comfortable handle.
“That’s right,” Asmodeus purred from above, looking down and watching the pair, Stolas using his lap like a pillow. “Just get comfortable. It’s a marathon, babe. Not a sprint.” The smooth voice was filled with such confidence, it was impossible for Stolas to second guess it. It was easy to let go of his insecurities with Lust incarnate giving him directions. “Just find a rhythm that works for you.” Easier to just get lost in the feel of soft heat against soft heat. The easy, insistent friction dragging across the ring of muscle as he wriggled deeper across, then into Fizzaroli’s hole.
There was the soft sound of bells. Fizzarolli looking back up at Asmodeus.
On any other day, with any other partner, and with any less Lust magic wrapped around his brainstem, Stolas was sure there would be some smart, if not altogether cruel retort ready. He’d heard enough in his time with Stella. He knew he was… inadequate.
His top set of eyes had just enough range to catch the easy, lovesick look on the imp’s face as he looked back, over Stolas and into the glowing green eyes of his husband.
It was nice. Kind even, how much they let him fade from the equation. Less pressure. Less room for error. Stolas was incredibly grateful for it, and let his appreciation be known as his hands traveled up over the curve of Fizzarolli’s narrow ass, gripping into the curve of the muscle there and gently spreading. The imp was heavier than he looked, but between his grip and the arch that the touch drew, Stolas let his mind and tongue wander, probing deeper… deeper all the time. Feeling the narrow constriction as Fizzarolli tightened around him, almost as if to push him out.
Stolas hesitated, but Asmodeus’s great hands were there, cradling the back of his skull and pressing into Fizzarolli for him. He just had to keep his tongue stiff and let go, letting Asmodeus use him like a toy.
“Mmmm!”
The jester’s upper body went slack and heavy on Stolas’ lower stomach again, hat jingling as he laid his head to rest to the side.
“I know, baby.” Asmodeus answered from above again, cock thick and insistent against Stolas’ shoulder. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?”
Fizzarolli moaned loudly on top of him, but a twist of arousal curled with precision between his own legs as well. When the noise hummed through his mouth, it found itself muffled against the wet, warm taste of Fizzarolli’s slick. Eventually, the guiding hand fell away, and Asmodeus’ words were the only guidance needed to keep Stolas fucking his tounge deep and steady into Fizzarolli.
He could feel the way the pleasure built. The way it slipped away. The way it wasn’t quite enough to get the jester off, no matter how much he humped down against his chin or sternum. No matter how much he wordlessly begged his husband to be allowed more. When the damp patch of feathers under Fizzarolli’s drooling, gagged mouth matched the patch under Stolis’ chin, Asmodeus finally relented.
“Okay Blitz, you’ve behaved yourself long enough.”
“Fucking finally.” Stolas felt the bed shift as Blitz crawled onto the mattress. His knees were pushed apart without fanfare, and he let them fall the rest of the way in invitation. He saw Blitz’s hands proffered, waving the Sin forward impatiently. Stolas arched a brow, tongue still working as he watched Asmodeus lean forward, beak opening and wrapping a dripping, undulating tongue around each hand until they were both coated.
“Your welcome,” Ozzie chuckled as he pulled off, leaving Blitzo’s thick fingers glowing.
“Oh don’t jerk yourself off too hard about it. This would work just as well with normal lube if you fuckers ever kept any.”
“You have a real funny way of saying thank you, you know that?”
“Hmmm!” Stolas pulled off just long enough to offer his own two cents. “If you think this is bad, you should see him trying to say ‘so’- Oh sweet Lucifer!”
Stolas tried to shove his tongue back inside Fizzarolli. He really did. But Blitz knew just how to handle him. For better or worse he’d had practice… well… getting things over with as quickly as possible.
A finger sank confidently between his legs, working his cloaca open until a second could bully its way inside. The broad fingertips found the place that had him gasping, and the quick, relentless pistoning that jiggled him and Fizzarolli alike, had Stolas squawking through an orgasm before he could even orient himself to being fucked.
“Oh…fuck!”
Stolas went limp with satisfaction as he watched Blitz crawl closer. His still sticky fingers pawed at Fizzarolli until the weight of him was hefted up, into Blitz’s arms. With a little manhandling, he was flipped around giving Stolas a front row seat as he was quickly re-acquainted with his pussy, but as the jester faced him this time, leaning back against Blitz who had settled his weight across Stolas’ hips.
He found himself entranced as those fingers that had just been inside of him trailed down to split the skin of Fizzarolli’s lips, possessive and entitled. His middle finger went to circle the clit that Stolas had gotten so full and needy, but never quite given release to. Meanwhile the other hand sank into the hole Stolas had spent so long tongue fucking. Three fingers forced their way into the clown, his strokes inside shallow and harsh. The real attention was paid to the way he played with his clit, fast and hard until his eyes rolled back, and a little puddle sprayed across stolas’ chest feathers.
“That’s it, bitch.” Blitz pushed him forward unceremoniously to collapse against Stolas, nuzzling into his chest. He planted a hard smack across the jester’s ass, making him jerk and moan into Stolas’ shoulder.
“Really, Blitz?” Asmodeus asked as scarred hands grabbed Fizz by the tail and yanked him a few inches down, sliding his face to rest on Stolas’ chest and for their holes to line up one right over the other.
“Really, you teasing fucking bastard.” With a self satisfied moan, Stolas listened as he heard the squelch of Blitz presumably fucking deep into Fizzarolli, who jolted, eyes watering as the plap-plap-plap of their skin on skin filled the room.
Stolas was just working himself up to a needy jealousy when Fizz whimpered, and the cock was at the entrance of his cloaca instead. “Darling!” Blitzo went slower with him. He had to because of the more delicate anatomy of his hole. But soon enough he was deep enough to give Stolas his own pounding. Just as Stolas felt himself nearing the crest of pleasure, Blitz pulled out again. Leaving him sloppy and panting as he eased off from the edge.
He kept on like that.
Blitz moving from one hole to the next. Always not quite enough. Always too much too fast. But not ever quite release. Up and down and up again. His two bitches wet and horny for him. The slide into their willing bodies smooth as he fucked them both into needy, begging messes. He got Fizz off first, a hand reaching around to set him off. He pulled off and flipped him over to have his shaky aftershocks cuddled mindlessly into Stolas’ side. Only then did he gather up Stolas’ hips, bent him in half, and drove them to their big finish with a punishing mating press that had them practically crawling into Asmodeus’ lap.
Stolas felt it when he came deep inside of him. The twitching, throbbing cock shooting its cum to fill him.
Blitz stayed there for a long time, growly softly in answer to every little hoot.
A smooth prosthetic pulled at his shoulder, but Blitz untangled himself, letting Fizzarolli find Stolas instead. Like a magnet, Stolas drew the jester back to him, entangling their limbs and sharing the soft, satisfied warmth of afterglow. They watched as Blitz swallowed, and narrowed his gaze up at Asmodius.
Slowly, his legs spread until Stolas’ skull was carefully put back to rest on the mattress. Only then did the sin of Lust crawl over the two of them, until he loomed over Blitz.
“Fine,” Asmodeus purred, a finger drawing down his mottled chest. “You want my attention so bad?” His voice dropped, a dangerous edge to it.
He gathered to the back of his throat and spit, saliva hitting Blitz’s lower stomach with a glowing splatter. Five pairs of eyes watched as it oozed down to the base of Blitz’s cock and made it throb back to life. Blitz cursed under his breath, but didn’t back down from the defiant glare. Smiling, Asmodeus wrapped his hand around his own cock, pulling once- twice, working himself completely hard, and making sure Blitz had an eyeful of exactly what he was in for.
He didn’t give any warning before he grabbed Blitz by the horn and hip, flipping him over to his chest and knees. A huge, cyan hand planted itself across Blitz’s head, pinning it down with his palm as he kneed Blitz’s stance wider. “Then have it.”
Stolas shivered, wrapping his arms around Fizzarolli, tangled in each other and fingers exploring as they watched Blitz get exactly what he deserved.