Erotic short. Two old veterans use a duelling student as their shared toy.
Rated E, 3k. Trans M between a trans M and cis M, with a duelling master fucking one of his students with a friend of his. Double penetration, anal and vaginal play, biting and nibbling, rough sex, squirting, a bit of breeding dirty talk, size kink, gaping, nipple and chest play.
Byron groans as he steps out from the old stone building’s wooden canopy and immediately gets spattered on the top of his head with a heavy torrent of fat droplets, sinking into his hair and dousing his ears, drizzling down the back of his neck before he stumbles back under the natural umbrella again. It’s cold and wet and miserable, and he groans as he shakes his head like a dog and doubles back — he’d thought he wouldn’t need his oil cloak just for the short walk back down into town proper, but evidently, he thought wrong.
He’d left the duelling hall about twenty-five minutes ago, had spent some time flirting with Mr Sylvestri — the eldest of the librarians — over his returns, and that had evidently been enough time for it to start raining, and heavily, at that.
He doesn’t call Katte’s name as he ascends the stairs of the tower again — Katte’s office is in the room above the actual duelling hall, and he doesn’t always hear students coming as they ascend the stairwell. The candles are dimmed, though, the light a lot lower than when he was sparring earlier, and he comes up to the landing and puts his hand on his cloak, hanging from its hook.
His hand freezes on it, his head tilting, as he hears a grunt from inside the duelling hall — one of Katte’s grunts as he hits the floor, sounds like. It’s impossible not to be interested in that — Byron’s a head taller than Katte and has a good few pounds on the man, but he’s never been able to drop him yet, because the old man is just too fucking fast.
He steps quietly toward the door, which is slightly ajar, and nudges it slightly further open — enough that he can poke his head through and see.
Katte is on the floor, true, but he’s not hurt, it doesn’t seem — he’s pinning another older man’s body with his own, his blade against the guy’s throat. The other man is handsome, a redhead with thick curls and freckles scattered across his cheeks, and he’s got a body type more like Byron’s than Katte’s. Katte is lean and has a deceptive musculature, but the stranger, like Byron, is plumper, has more of a blacksmith’s build.
“You bastard,” says the stranger, and Katte laughs — he starts to lean back, but before he can, the stranger grabs him by the hair and drags him down again, fucking devouring his mouth in a hard, biting kiss.
Byron realises, doesn’t see how he didn’t fucking see it before, that the two of them are stripped down — they’re not naked, but Katte has on just a pair of thin jersey leggings and a vest; the stranger wears a light shirt and shorts. They’re both barefoot and bruised in places, and Byron wonders how many of those bruises are ones he managed to put on Katte — there are some marks where his vest is riding up that he’s never been able to see with Katte’s usual heavier tunics.
“Come on, Devault,” Katte growls when the other man releases him — his lips are kiss-bruised, and Byron’s suddenly so breathlessly hot he can scarcely believe it, his skin prickling with heat under his clothes. There’s blood flowing downwards, he knows, his cunt feeling hot as well.
It’s not unusual for him to get a little horny in this tower — Katte’s a bastard, and Byron’s thought about it before, the old man’s breath hot on the back of his neck as he keeps him pinned in place, on his belly on the duelling mats.
Devault has been shoved down on his belly in the very same position when Katte looks up, and Byron imagines it, being shoved down like that with the old man gripping his hair like that instead of Devault’s, being able to feel the outline of his cock against his arse with Katte straddling him like that in such thin clothes.
Devault, with his head pulled back, is looking forward, and his eyes lock with Byron’s.
“Katte,” he says, voice straining from the position, his lips parted — his are kiss-bruised too, and not just that, but there’s a cut there where Katte’s bitten him, savage fucking wildcat that he is. “We’ve got a visitor.”
Katte’s eyes shoot up to follow Devault’s gaze, and Byron feels himself blanche, shame bursting in his belly. “Wells,” he says harshly, his lips curling back in a snarl.
“Sorry, Sir Katte,” Byron says. “I just, I came back for my cloak and — ”
“Get in here,” Katte orders him crisply, and Byron steps through the door immediately, closing it behind him. “This what you do when you’re not in the duelling hall, Wells? Listen at keyholes?”
“There’s not a keyhole,” Byron says reflexively, and Katte’s laugh is a savage thing — Devault’s laugh is softer and more powerless, his head dropping to the mat, his forehead pressed into the leather.
And then he moves so fast that Byron’s head spins with it — he somehow flips his legs out from underneath Katte’s bulk and flips them, shoves Katte hard so that he lands hard onto the mat, his shoulders landing with a loud smack, and before he can lunge back up to grab Devault, Devault has him by one ankle and is twisting his leg.
“Agh, you fucking cunt,” chokes out Katte, and with his palms braced on the floor and his other leg going up somehow manages to get leverage against the ground and kick Devault in the centre of his chest hard enough that he’s winded. Releasing Katte’s legs, he stumbles backwards, wheezing.
Byron stands there still in his shoes, not sure if he should take them off like Katte normally orders him to, and he watches spellbound as Katte gets to his feet, and looks sidelong at Byron. The two older men are still in ready stances, both of them with their feet spread slightly on the floor, their knees bent.
Devault is still breathing heavily, a slight whistle in his breaths before it begins to even out, and he and Katte slowly circle one another.
“We normally make a game of it, this fucker and me,” says Katte lowly as he shifts in the circle and comes closer to Byron. “Whoever gets in first is the one that gets in.”
His hand whips out and grips Byron by the back of his shirt, dragging him closer and then pushing him between himself and Devault, and Byron stumbles as he’s pushed into place, then lets out a shuddered noise as Katte cuts up the back of his shirt in one rapid movement, and before Byron can say anything, Byron’s grabbed him the front of his shirt and dragged it off him.
Suddenly, he’s shirtless, standing there between the two of them, and Devault’s eyes drop down to Byron’s chest, at the swell of his tits on each side, at the thatch of hair between them.
“Dibs on the front hole,” says Devault, and Katte’s laugh is rough and low as he leans around Byron and undoes his breeches, shoving them down. Byron is quaking, can feel the tremble running through his body and more heat rushing downward, his nipples fattening and showing more obviously.
Devault approaches and grabs him, kisses him as hard as he’d just been kissing Katte, and Byron moans into his mouth as Devault’s tongue shoves into his mouth and dominates him entirely, feels like he’s devouring him, as Katte strips away his trousers, too.
It happens so quickly he can’t keep track of all the motions at once — Katte’s knife cutting his underwear away; Devault shoving down his trousers, the both of them tipping him onto the mats with him. He doesn’t know which of them tugs off his shoes, doesn’t know which one forces three spit-slick fingers into his arse and which one wraps their mouth around his cock, only knows that he’s gone from not getting a date in weeks to being utterly overwhelmed, and his thighs are trembling as they spread apart to give the old cunts more access.
He’s scrambling at the leather mats for purchase, trying to keep his brain in order as he works on his brain, feels like he’s fucking clenching the thing to try to make it concentrate, but the only thing that’s clenching are his holes around the plunging fingers.
“Fuck off,” he hears Devault say.
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Why, you want to get this one pregnant like the last boy we fucked together?”
Byron’s whole body jerks, and both of them laugh at him, and it’s Devault who sucks on his cock, slurps loudly on it and sinks his fingers into Byron’s cunt, and he stares up between the two of them wide-eyed as Katte scissors his fingers in Byron’s arse.
“What, you think you should get to get the boy pregnant for fairness’ sake?” he asks, raising his eyebrows, and he smirks down at Byron, whose thighs are trembling uncontrollably.
“You on contraception?” Devault asks, releasing Byron’s cock for a second — his lips are slick, and a string of saliva connects his lower lip to the twitching head of Byron’s cock.
Byron can’t make his mouth work, so he just nods his head.
“That’s for the best,” Katte mutters. “Your balance is shit even without a brat cooking in your belly.” He grabs Byron by the hips and lifts him, and Devault grabs him at the same time — Byron grunts and gasps as they wrestle him between them, trying to turn him in their arms.
“Why not — ah, fuck — you don’t want to ask my opinion?”
“Your opinion doesn’t count for much, boy,” Katte says. “Or do you not want two cocks stuffed inside you?”
Byron lets out a little involuntary noise, and it makes both old men roar with laughter, their grips loosening for a moment as they lower him into their laps, his legs spread and his body just stuck between theirs, feeling the weight of Devault’s tits against his back, feeling Katte’s toned and muscular thighs underneath his arse.
“Fuck, the little prick is dripping,” chuckles Devault, working off the last of the laughter — and then the two old bastards are wrestling him between them again, until Katte is flat on his back and Byron is on top of him, his hands braced on Katte’s chest. “Why the fuck do you get to watch his tits bounce?”
“That’s not all I’m getting,” Katte says, and he smirks up at him, his eyes glinting. It’s the same nasty look he gets on his face sometimes when he really catches Byron out and flips him over — or sometimes, when Byron actually scores a point against him. He drags Byron down onto his cock without warning, and Byron lets out a broken howl as he feels Katte’s fat cock piece him open, so much thicker than Devault’s fingers.
“No one ever taught you to share?” Devault asks, his breath hot on the back of Byron’s neck, and then he grazes his teeth down the side of his neck, and Byron groans and scrambles back to grab at him just to steady himself, his whole body throbbing, thrilling, at the electric sensation those nibbling bites send through him. As he’s lifted off of Katte’s devastatingly thick cock, he can feel the drag of it, his cunt trying to hold onto Katte’s cock as if he doesn’t want it to leave him, and he doesn’t know that he does. He feels sore and achy in a good way and also a devastating one, his cock feeling fucking raw.
He can feel the little pop as Katte’s cockhead pops out of him, his cunt left open, and then Devault’s body is moulded against Byron’s back, warm and solid and fat, his skin smooth, his chest pillowed against his shoulders.
“Wait,” Byron says, suddenly realising what’s happening, and Katte starts to laugh underneath him. “Wait, wait, he’s got a monster cock, how the fuck are you both going to fitohmyfuckohmygodsfuckfuckfuckfuck — ”
Katte keeps on fucking laughing and it makes his dick wobble a little as Devault keeps both their dicks gripped in his hand and forces Byron’s cunt to open around them both, and it’s like he’s being split in half, like he’s being fucking hewn apart. He’s howling, making so much fucking noise they can probably hear him on the other side of the castle, let alone at the bottom of the fucking tower, and both of the old men are groaning in satisfaction.
“Fuck, he’s tight,” hisses Devault.
“Part of that is me,” mutters Katte, and Devault digs his fingernails into the meat of one of his pecs, making him hiss in pain.
“Hey, I’m tight!” Byron snaps at him, although he’s amazed he’s able to move his mouth and actually talk given how fucking dizzy he is with the amount of cock stuffed in him, his pussy spread wide by it as the two of them sink into him from sides, so hot he can’t believe it.
“You used to be,” Devault murmurs in his ear, and then nips his earlobe. “Once we’re done with you, you’ll be gaping for days.”
Byron moans helplessly at that, and shudders as Devault pulls him down onto both their cocks as deep as he can get them — he’s sitting across Katte’s thighs, and he’s nudged Byron forward so that a bit more of Katte’s cock will sink into him.
“How do you want to do this?” Devault asks — he sounds a little out of breath, tension in his voice, and Byron can feel his pussy fluttering around the amount of fucking meat crammed in him, feel the pressure on the underside of his cock, and fuck, but it’s like his orgasm is threatening, right on the crest of hitting him but not quite within reach.
“What the fuck do you do all them pull ups for if you can’t handle this prick’s weight?” Katte demands — and there’s a moan in his voice that makes Byron’s cheeks hot.
“Just asking a question, no need to get snippy,” Devault says sharply, and with his hands gripped around Byron’s waist, he slides him forward before dragging him down again. Byron keens at how fucking easy he goes, he’s so wet and so open from the way they’ve forced him open and at how horny he is, because Devault doesn’t hesitate, just moves him up and down on their cocks like he’s a shared cocksleeve for them. Devault keeps sliding him up and then pulling him down again, and fuck, but he didn’t think the spring could coil tighter, didn’t think he could feel more of a swell inside him, but it feels like there’s an inflating ball of tension deep within his belly, behind his cock, within his cunt, and with every jerk of Byron’s body down onto their pricks, it feels even bigger.
“Look at these pretty things wobble,” Katte says. “They’re so small — you don’t even have to bind them, do you? I had to wrap mine down tight, back when I was your age, before I went to the fleshturner.”
Byron blinks a few times, looking at Katte’s chest to try to determine if he can see where the fleshturner’s hands had delved inside, where his tits used to be, how big they were, thinks about the fact that he went to a fleshturner to build him a cock and they built him a monster of a thing —
And then Katte grabs one of his nipples into his mouth and sucks hard on it, worrying at it with his teeth at the same time, and Byron actually lets out a sudden sob as his orgasm crashes over him all at once.
He’s aware of Katte and Devault both moaning loudly at the way his cunt clenches and flutters around the two of them, Katte’s voice muffled by the fact that his mouth is full of tit, and Byron feels the tears hot on his cheeks as he grabs helplessly at Katte’s shoulders and at the mat either side of his head, trying not to just collapse on top of the old man as Devault keeps mercilessly sinking him down onto both of their pricks.
He feels like he’s somewhere up in the sky as they keep on fucking him, keep on using him, and when he thinks about the fact that he’s been made into their fucking duelling ground, his head spins with it and it just makes his orgasm feel like it’s going on forever, his cock jumping and jerking and Gods, he’s squirted around them, he thinks, judging by how much fucking wetness he’s sitting in, how suddenly slick he is not just with sweat but with a puddle underneath him and soaking Katte’s thighs.
So much for not getting wet — although this is far better than the fucking rain.
He doesn’t know when it happens exactly, can’t pinpoint it, but he knows when they’ve come, when both of them have come, because there’s so much hot come inside him that he feels the sweet, spectacular heat of it, and it’s all dripping out of him as Devault eases him off their cocks.
He does collapse now, making Katte let out an oof as the weight of Byron’s body splats across his, wet with sweat, and he just lies there on top of him — his heart skips a beat, his chest and his pussy both fluttering, as Katte lays a steadying hand on his lower back and murmurs, “That’s a lad,” in a quiet, strangely tender voice that makes the cooling tears on Byron’s cheeks threaten to get new, fresh pals, but he doesn’t quite tear up.
“We’ve made such a mess of you, lad,” says Devault softly, and traces a finger around his gaping cunt so that Byron can feel it, feel how wide he’s been spread, and he whines at the sensation, too-much and too-good and please-more all at once. “What do you need before we do the same, break in his backdoors? An hour?”
“Forty minutes,” Katte says, and Byron blinks, staring into his face. Katte grins at him, showing teeth, and then kisses him — he kisses harder than Devault had, bites him hard and leaves him bloody and aching and whimpering, and then he’s flipped onto his back onto the leather mats, both of their come dripping out of him —
And all he can do is lie there helplessly as they both come, mouth open, for each of his tits, so exhausted he can’t even writhe.
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