Chapter Text
A gloved hand snaked its way between your thighs, moving dangerously close to the soaked spot of your leggings with each ding of the ascending elevator. You let your head roll back against the mirrored wall as the heel of his hand bumped your still-clothed clit, each stroke of curious fingers sending a pang of need surging through you. The metal railing dug into your low back as he caged you in place with powerful forearms. His hips ground into yours, allowing you a preview of the thick heat that lay beneath, already straining against the canvas of his trousers.
Tantalizing cloth-covered kisses were placed along your throat, each followed by a dirty promise of what was in store for you. You shuddered when his tickling breath made its way to the shell of your ear, causing your body to ripple in goosebumps from head to toe.
You went slack in his arms, giving into the feelings that were beginning to consume you. But despite that, as you stared at his mask and dark smudges around his eyes, one thought rose above the haze that clouded your mind and judgment.
This was dangerous.
You didn’t even know his name. When you'd first seen him at the bar, all he had given you was a smoldering stare from underneath skeletal sockets. It wasn’t unusual to see the occasional military personnel at the no-name hole-in-the-wall pub you’d stopped at for a drink. They enjoyed the discretion and anonymity a place like that provided along with plentiful pints of beer. You just wanted a quiet place to decompress after a long day at work — and admittedly, a little eye candy.
But you’d never seen anyone like him there before.
He had perched on the red, cracked vinyl of the bar stool, his bulky form hunched as he rested his forearms over the edge of the battered and chipped wood. The others in the bar gave him a wide berth, so you did too, sitting at the other end of the counter, observing him. He had probably just come from work, still dressed in gear that couldn’t be comfortable. You had watched his biceps flex, muscles bulging as he raised his glass.
The facial covering he wore was only lifted enough to sip his drink before being replaced once more, hiding his face from the other patrons. The skull design stood out starkly against the rest of the dark mask, giving him a haunting and forbidding appearance that was probably meant to strike fear into those who laid eyes upon it. Instead, your curiosity had been sparked — what was hidden underneath?
He had caught your blatant staring a few times, his own expression unreadable beneath the fabric of his mask. Flinty eyes had flicked down to the fruity little drink you’d been sipping at the bar, much less dignified but in your opinion likely far more delicious than whatever fiery amber beverage was in his glass. All evening, you played your coy game, sneaking more glances his way until all that was left in your second glass was ice and the watered-down remains of fruit juice.
His move.
When he stood to leave, you thought you’d played your cards wrong, misread the subtle signals — maybe you should have been more forward. But, he had turned to you, night-dark eyes fixed on yours intently and crooked a single finger in your direction. It was an invitation, a command.
You obeyed.
Now alone, he tugged the neckline of your jacket away and nipped at the exposed skin of your shoulder, pulling your mind back to the present. The metal doors of the elevator had hardly opened when you were half-guided, half-pulled down the hallway. He hastily fished out a single key from his pocket and unlocked the door before you, ushering you inside the dark apartment.
Gentle moonlight bathed the room in a dim glow, just enough to make out the shapes of the countertops in the kitchen, the appliances, a dining table, and —
Rough hands pried your jacket off before the door closed, robbing you of the chance to get your bearings. Calloused fingertips brushed against your collarbone as he slipped the garment down over your arms until it fell, crumpled, at your feet.
“Who—” you started, but caught yourself mid-sentence. “What should I call you?”
He hesitated for a moment as if debating what name to offer you. “Simon,” he said, resigned as if that wasn’t the answer he truly wanted to give.
You waited for him to ask the same of you, but he didn't. Men like him don’t stay in one place for long; you weren't surprised that he didn't care to learn the name of a mere one-night stand. In the brief time you'd spent with him — truly no more than the brisk walk to the building and elevator ride up — you could already tell he was not one for pretenses or small talk anyway.
All business.
His eyes bored into you with a steely intensity that made you step back until your bottom bumped into the wall. You were not one to back down from a challenge, preferring to face your fears — but your fears had never looked quite like this before. His much-larger form dwarfed yours as he closed in on you, movements lithe and smooth, the easy approach of a predator sure of each step towards their cornered prey. Your chest tightened at the sight. The way he loomed over you ignited a pulsing between your thighs, an insistent little heartbeat that demanded some attention.
You lifted your hands to his abdomen to preserve some of the shrinking space between you, but you forgot all about that when you feel the defined planes of muscle beneath your palms. You sucked in your breath as you traced along the deep divots and valleys that dipped into his waistband, in awe of the battle-hardened body before you.
He pushed the bottom of his mask up, revealing full lips and a strong jaw dotted with the odd scar, white lines of injuries long healed. You reached up to cup his face, rough stubble already forming along his cheeks, bristly beneath the stroking pads of your thumbs. For a few seconds, you both just looked at each other. The moment was…almost romantic, tender, as you peered up at dark, knowing eyes reflecting the pale moonlight.
That sweetness didn’t last.
Before you could react, you were roughly turned so the front of you was shoved against the wall, your chest and cheek smashed flat. He yanked your arm up and behind you, tugging almost painfully on the joint to keep you still.
“Nothing personal,” he explained, his hand wandering down your neck and breasts, over your abdomen, hips, legs, fingers probing your pockets.
Your stunned brain took a moment to catch up and realize what he was doing. “I don’t have any, um, weapons on me.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” he murmured, his hand lingering at the crotch of your pants, already soaked through with your arousal. His hips leaned into yours as he chuckled darkly, his shaft straining against his pants. “But I’d be a dead man ten times over if I believed everyone who said that.”
Satisfied with his examination, he flipped you back around, fingers toying with the hem of your flimsy shirt. This too was pulled off in one fluid motion, and you shivered, your abdomen bare against the cool air of the room. You began to cross your arms over your bra to cover and warm yourself, but your wrists were captured in one large hand before you could hide your body. His vice-like grip pulled your hands above your head, pinning you in place against the drywall, leaving you exposed to him.
He leaned down to you and pressed the cushion of his lips to yours, softer than you’d expected, warm. You felt him moving, heard a faint clatter as he shucked off his gear and let it fall to the floor in a heap. His tongue swiped across your bottom lip, encouraging you to offer yourself to him, insistent, leading.
You followed.
Your eyes closed as you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to slip inside, tasting whiskey or bourbon, smoke and wood and danger, everything about him that was harsh against your softness. Your tongue greeted his and the two swirled together as he tightened his grip on your hands, bringing forth a tiny whimper from you that didn’t escape his notice. He pawed at your covered breasts, his calloused fingers rough on the delicate lace while teeth and lips and tongue clashed against yours. Your nipples tightened into pert buds beneath his kneading hands, trying to reach his touch through the fabric. You let out another sound that was far more desperate than you had planned.
“Eager little thing,” he mumbled against your mouth, followed by a breathy huff of amusement. "I like that."
His mask, his attitude, and the sheer size of him all called to your most base desires and primitive urges. Every prey instinct in your body alarmed as his hand wandered up from your breast to encircle the slender column of your neck, squeezing lightly, the barest amount of pressure. A small inner voice warned you that this was a bad idea, that you were treading into deep water where you couldn’t see the monsters lurking in the dark depths. But risk and fear, none of it meant anything to you right now — other, more primal instincts were rising above the fear of the unknown.
His muscled body trapped you in place as if he sensed your struggle, and kept you from fleeing; but there wasn’t anywhere else you would rather be right now. His free hand left your neck and slipped up into your hair, fingers gripping a tight fistful, testing you. Your appreciative moan gave him the green light he was waiting for. He tugged harder, pulling your tresses back so you were forced to meet his mouth more fully, head angled to his liking, breathing soft pants and sighs into his kisses.
Simon nudged a knee between yours, rocking it left and until your legs parted for him in submission. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured before capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, a playful bite that advertised so much more to come. He raised his thigh a bit more until the flat of it was flush with your clothed pussy. “Now, go on.”
You didn’t need any more encouragement to slide your body forward over the solid muscle of his thigh he presented, rolling your hips to give your clit the delicious friction it craved. He grabbed your bottom and helped you glide along his leg, forward and back in a smooth motion that soon had your cheeks and neck warming, a climax already blooming heat within your belly.
Satisfied with your compliance, he released your wrists and pushed your tight leggings down over your hips and thighs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and your hands immediately rose to rest around broad shoulders now free of the vest and gear that just adorned them a short time ago. It reminded you that this man was dangerous, someone you shouldn’t mess with — and probably shouldn’t be alone with, either. He’d made sure you weren’t armed, but he certainly would be.
Though you knew it shouldn’t have, that possibility excited you even more.
Arousal gathered in your panties in a fresh flood of wetness as you continued to ride the flat of his thigh, soon leaving a damp spot on the thick canvas. Your fingers dug into his back as you chased your pleasure, the defined muscles beneath your hands barely concealed by the dark T-shirt stretched across his broad form. Your hips rolled forward and back, pulling the thin material of your panties taut against the shape of you. One hand dipped its way between you both, and a thick finger stroked along your covered slit, depressing the soaked fabric lightly between your folds.
A dark rumble of amusement vibrated within Simon’s deep chest. “So wet for me already, love?” he asked, voice gravelly and low. His thumb found your clit and pressed down gently on the bundle of nerves, causing your back to arch, pushing your body against his more closely. “We’ve barely even started.”
You had no reply except for a tight whine; your arousal was obvious and becoming more apparent every second he worked those tantalizing small circles around your most sensitive spot. He slipped a hand to your hip and hoisted you up, lifting you easily as if the effort was nothing to him. You clamped your thighs firmly around his middle, holding yourself in place — though, the hand now clutching a handful of your plump bottom didn’t need any additional help to keep you upright.
Simon's nipping teeth descended to your neck, possessively claiming every inch of skin he could reach. Your head lolled back in ecstasy — but not into empty air as you expected. Something, or rather, someone was behind you. You craned your neck over your shoulder, but didn’t see a face, just a chest. You tilted your head up — further than you expected you needed to — to discover a man behind you, taller than any you had ever seen up close. The black fabric hanging over his face shifted as he cocked his head to examine you like a bird who had discovered a shiny, interesting scrap of metal in the dirt. A pair of blue eyes glinted in the low light, nearly hidden among the folds of cloth.
Your body tensed at the unexpected guest, but the hand between your thighs didn’t slow its stroking, continuing to coax more wetness out to dampen the silky material of your panties.
“Easy,” Simon said softly. “It’s just Kӧnig. Gentle giant, that one.”
His words didn't soothe you much — you hadn’t intended to take on more than one partner tonight. It wasn’t often you went for random hookups as it was, but it had been a while, and you’d been starved from any action for too long. You blamed the cheap fruit-flavored vodka swirling within your veins, offering you a thin front of confidence and boldness that was dissipating more and more quickly with each second that passed. This whole thing was dumb and reckless, but you had placed your much smaller hand in Simon’s, letting him guide you away like a lamb to the slaughter.
Maybe you were in over your head.
But the new set of hands that tentatively rested at your waist sparked new zings of electricity into your veins, warmth that seeped from impossibly large palms into your core. Your lust-fogged mind wondered what other parts of him were just as big — you tightened your inner muscles at the thought. The chest behind you was solid, and you took a deep breath and leaned into it further, still bucking your hips forward into Simon’s palm.
“Atta girl,” Simon murmured. “We can make ya feel good — so fuckin’ good if you let us. You want that? Hm?”
Kӧnig’s hands at your waist traveled upward to cup your breasts, but you couldn’t help but notice the slight trembling in the slender joints — nervousness, maybe, or excitement. It was a stark contrast to Simon, whose hands were steady, his demeanor cool and collected, no shred of insecurity to be found within him. You leaned your head back as far as you could to peer up into the taller man’s eyes once more. You weren't sure what you expected to find there, but there was no cruelty, only a desire and curiosity that matched your own.
You nodded your head, the barest of movements against his chest. This seemed to relax him as he spread his thumbs to swipe across your bra, as if trying to feel the pebbled buds that strained to be free from beneath the lace.
“Use your words,” Simon hissed, his hand on your bottom gripping more tightly.
“Y-Yes,” you whispered, the word a breath soft and sweet as the first petals of spring. You could barely believe that the word came out of your own mouth. “I want it.”
“Mm.” The edges of his lips quirked up and a hum of amusement reverberated through him. “Think ya can manage both of us?”
Two fingers slid underneath the crotch of your panties and teased your entrance, slipping among the plentiful evidence of your yearning. Even just those digits felt huge against you, but you were desperate to get them inside of you. You tilted your hips to impale yourself on them, using Kӧnig’s body as leverage, but Simon didn't budge, waiting for your answer.
“Mmhm,” you affirmed, immediately rewarded for your answer with the teasing digits sinking an inch into your cunt. “Both.”
“Good girl.”
Your eyelashes fluttered closed at the praise and the fingers advanced within you, filling your tight heat before curling to press a spot that caused stars to burst behind your eyelids. Kӧnig’s breathing rasped above you as he watched, transfixed by the sight of you fucking yourself on Simon's hand. The fingers in your pussy pumped in and out a few times as much as the stretched material of your underwear allowed, each pass accompanied by a lewd, wet noise. The sound was embarrassingly loud in the quiet room, but the fluttering within your lower stomach only intensified, building into a pressure that demanded to be released.
But before you rose too close to your peak, Simon pulled his fingers out of you, leaving you devastatingly empty, your cunt clenching around nothing. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a small object, and with one tiny flick, a blade extended, upright between the two of you. Your lips tightened as the moon reflected a pale blue glow over the sharp edge, and he turned it in his hand, eyeing the weapon appreciatively.
“Don’t move,” he commanded in the tone of one used to giving orders that were immediately followed. “Unless you want to bleed.”
Disobeying was the furthest thing from your mind as he laid the flat of the blade against your neck. Veins and arteries pumped centimeters from where the sharp metal rested; one wrong move and you’d be in trouble. But instead of pure terror at his hand, the dull pressure in your core built, blossoming deeper, winding tendrils of desire taking root within every inch of your being.
The knife wasn’t as cold as you expected, pleasantly warmed from being in Simon’s pocket, but you still held your breath, not even daring to breathe. He dragged the blade down your chest, slipping under the strip of material that bound the cups of your bra together. Kӧnig held the lace taut over the knife; luckily, his hands no longer shook.
You sucked in a breath when Simon flicked his wrist, easily slicing through the cloth. Your breasts bounced free but were immediately captured by Kӧnig once more. He pinched your nipples between his fingertips, rolling the nubs lightly. It was a welcome distraction, but not enough to completely pull your attention away from the blade that traced lower down your body until it paused by your stomach. Simon angled the steel and scraped it against the delicate skin near your navel.
“Be careful,” you rasped, lips barely moving.
Simon ignored your plea and turned the blade over in the light, examining the little collection of peach fuzz on the edge, shaved from your belly. “Sharp, isn’t it?” he asked, voice dripping with amusement as he replaced the blade near your lower tummy. A wicked smile crept across his lips. "Lucky for you, I have a steady hand. But if it were to slip, even just a little..."
Your entire body tensed as the metal was brought lower, never once nicking your skin despite the way you trembled. Everything you thought to say left your mind at once, abandoning you to the mercy of the two men on either side of you. Your breathing came faster as adrenaline rushed through your veins and settled into an erratic pulse. Every nerve in your body was on high alert as his knife moved closer to your panties. You were sure the mingled fear and excitement was bright in your eyes, oozing from every pore of your body.
He lazily twisted the blade, a movement far too casual, but his deft hand wielded the weapon expertly, letting the very tip of it drag across the lace, decimating the intricate pattern. Simon finally gave two deft flicks to slice the sides of your panties open, easily cutting through the material. The shreds of the silken garment fell to the floor, leaving you completely exposed between the two men. Knifework now complete, their bodies pressed against you, one from the front, one from the back, making you feel impossibly small and vulnerable sandwiched between them.
You knew you were in trouble.
It was hard to keep track of the four hands that wandered your body, teasing and tickling every sensitive spot. You stop trying to remember who was where and just let yourself get lost in the moment, a buoy at the mercy of a turbulent sea, overwhelmed by the sensations crashing over you. A calloused thumb grazed the stiff peak of your nipple, slender fingers skimmed the rounded curve of your hip, a hand cupped your face, and two thick fingers buried themselves back in your cunt.
The clink of a belt buckle pulled you temporarily from the haze of your lust — this was really happening. Kӧnig held you in place, keeping you in suspension between the two of them. Simon unzipped and tugged, freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. Your hungry eyes greedily watched as it sprung out and hung heavily, swollen and ruddy between his thighs. He grabbed it in his fist and stroked it a few times before he rubbed it against your soaked slit, gliding along the slippery evidence of your arousal. The warmth against your wetness was exhilarating, and your eyebrows raised as you fully grasped for the first time how big it is. Thick heat teased your cunt without pressing forward as he coated the tip in your slick.
There was no way any of that was going to fit inside of you.
But you wanted him to try.
“Jesus Christ,” you mumbled, as he lined himself up with you. Your eyes lifted to meet his, partially obscured behind his mask.
“Not quite,” he said. “But you can call me whatever ya like when I’m buried in that tight cunt of yours.”
Simon pushed forward, stretching you further than his fingers had prepped you for. It didn’t hurt, but the burn of the stretch seared through to your lower abdomen, settling into a molten warmth. Strong arms kept you from escaping, the solid wall of muscle behind you holding you steady as Simon’s cock worked you open inch by inch.
It was the most delicious torture how slowly he thrust into you, tiny rocking movements in and out, moving so as not to hurt you — any faster and you were sure it would have been painful. Your vision blurred as tears prick the corner of your eyes, your awareness flickering as all you could focus on was the massive cock pushing your body to its limit — and beyond. You glanced down, and saw that he wasn't even all the way in yet. Your eyes squeezed shut, and a lone drop of moisture finally fell over your lash line to roll down your cheek.
It was too much.
Simon reached for you, his hand cupping your cheek, a thumb reaching up to swipe away the lone tear. “Eyes to me,” he ordered gently.
It was more difficult than you expected to refocus your gaze on him, but you hesitantly met his icy stare.
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous like this, you know that?” he said, voice husky. “Takin’ my cock so well.”
His words lifted you, breached your every defense, and gave you what you need to relax your body and allow the rest of him inside. He was clearly used to this process, his movements well-paced and unhurried. Finally, he stopped once your pelvis was flush against his. He reached up to swipe a damp lock of hair from your forehead and tucked it behind your ear. The gesture was surprisingly intimate and soft, but the gentleness vanished as he pullled his hips back and thrusted back into you with a slick noise, stealing the air from your lungs as he bottomed out within you quickly.
"Well done, love," he rapsed through another punishingly deep stroke.
It was completely ridiculous, but the accomplishment filled you with pride; you did it. Your body soon adjusted to his size, aided by your wetness leaking around his shaft. It was all you could do to lean forward and cling to Simon uselessly as he grabbed your ass for leverage, helping to move your hips to meet each roll of his hips. Fire rushed through your veins, warming your cheeks, neck, and chest. You arched your back to better accept him, groaning as the new angle allowed every brush against his pelvis to press on your clit, sending zings of pleasure surging through you.
Soft cloth brushed against your shoulder as Kӧnig lifted his mask, allowing his warm mouth to press to your skin. His mouth left a trail of wet splotches as he kissed your sweat-damp skin, still mostly hidden behind the dark veil while he peppered your shoulder and neck with affection. You felt the firmness of his erection at your low back, bulging at the front of his pants as he rested against you, jerking his hips in an imitation of fucking you.
He slipped a hand down to squeeze a free spot on your bottom, and allowed a finger to graze over your other tight entrance as your body rose and lowered over Simon’s cock. You squeezed your muscles in response to the curious touch as if you could dissuade the finger from exploring you there. It wasn't that you were completely opposed to the idea. When Simon had mentioned taking both of them, you’d thought one at a time, or maybe one in your mouth and one behind — still way more daring than what you usually went for. But the probing finger circled the rim of your puckered entrance, asking, teasing, waiting.
It felt good, better than you care to admit if you were being honest. You tried to let yourself enjoy it, the way he tempted the sensitive nerves there, but your uncertainty rears its head. You were already so full.
“W-Wait,” you said softly, stopping the gyrating of your hips. “I don’t know…”
Simon slowed down and nuzzled you, the stubble of his five o'clock shadow scratchy against the soft skin of your flushed cheek, his hot breath fanning out over your chest and collarbone. His lips rose to find your ear, lightly nibbling your earlobe, sending a shiver all the way down your spine as he spoke in a low, rough grunt.
“No?” Simon asked.
You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. Your answer wasn’t ‘no’ exactly — it was just too hard to think at that moment if this was a good idea or an absolutely horrible one. The booze you’d had wasn’t helping your decision-making. Your thighs quivered from the anticipation as drops of wetness rolled back, dripping down towards your ass as if your body was encouraging this, begging for this.
“What do you say?” Kӧnig asked softly, voice hesitant, surprising you when he speaks. “I will go slowly — at first,” he added, pushing against your hole in with his finger. “I won’t hurt you, little one.”
There was enough of your arousal spread around now that his finger popped in up to the first knuckle more easily than you expected. Your body clenched around the invading digit, maybe inviting more or trying to push him away, it was hard to tell at the moment. But either way, he didn't advance any further, the air in the room thick with anticipation.
You were on the precipice of feeling overwhelmed, your senses frayed as you were pinned between the two much larger men. Your mind and body clashed, one telling you that taking both at once like this will completely ruin you, the other begging for that exact thing. Simon’s thick cock was just sitting inside of you without thrusting, occasionally twitching — and despite your predicament, you were finding it impossible to stay still. You squirmed with indecision and Simon wasted no time in helping you make a choice. He reached down to the little engorged bundle of nerves between your thighs and flicked once, twice. It wasn't much, but he soon had you jerking your hips up, seeking further attention.
His hands on your hips dug in, bluntly trimmed fingernails sunk into your plush flesh. He clicked his tongue at you in disappointment at how desperately you tried to fuck yourself on his cock. “Now, darlin’ I know you heard him ask you a question. It’s impolite not to answer.”
“I…” you sucked in your breath when the man behind you inched his finger forward a little more into your unexplored hole. “Fuck. I want it.”
“What do you want?” Kӧnig asked, his voice taking on more confidence from the desperation that was blatantly obvious in yours. “Sag es mir.”
“Want…you,” you mumbled, embarrassed to be uttering these words aloud. “Your fingers, your cock.”
“Mm,” he hummed. "Then you shall have me."
He stepped away, leaving your back cold and unsupported, but Simon began fucking you anew, rewarding you for your admission.
You felt a shuffling behind you, more clinking, buckles and clasps being unfastened. There was a small plastic click, then a long, lubed finger prodded at your tight hole, working its way in steadily beside Simon’s girth. As Kӧnig leaned into you again, you felt something hot grind against your low back, leaving a little sticky spot behind each spot it touched. Your eyes widened in alarm; there was no way that was his —
You reached behind you, blindly fumbling, and your hand contacted his cock. Your fingers ran along the shaft, incredulously exploring and your blood turned to ice water at the sheer length of it. It was proportional to his massive size, so you knew you shouldn’t have expected any less, but still found yourself surprised by what you'd discovered. A wordless curse rested on your lips; you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow.
Kӧnig added a second slick finger to your ass, working you open until your muscles relaxed, the man diligently preparing you for what was to come. Even his two fingers felt like an impossibly tight fit with Simon’s girth taking up so much space inside of you already. Your head swam, drunk with the sensation.
“Can you take one more?” Kӧnig asked in a tone that indicates he was already sure of your answer. He pulled out and teased your hole with three fingers now, wiggling them among the plentiful slick he had added. “Show me how good you can be for me.”
“Yes,” you groaned. "Please."
You’re not sure how he managed it, but he added a third finger, stealing your breath along with it. You’d never felt so full before, and it was all you could do to keep your eyes open, to stay grounded and aware of what was going on. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest, exhilaration and uncertainty morphing into an intoxicating blend that probably shouldn't excite you the way it did.
The three fingers retreated and something hot nudged your prepared entrance in their place — and you had a moment of panic. It might have just been your overactive imagination, but he felt so much bigger than the fingers had. You couldn't. He would completely wreck you, rip you apart.
"C-Can't," you breathed into the thick air, your heart pounding in a frenzied attempt to bring blood to your tingling limbs. "Too much."
Your vision darkened at the edges and a sound reached your ears, harsh and gasping — and you realized it was you, your own breathing. Kӧnig’s masked face dipped to your ear, shushing you and whispering sweet soothing nothings as he might have done to a skittish animal ready to bolt at any second. You struggled in both of their grasps, Kӧnig's cock sliding among the lube and your slick around your hole. You weren't sure where you were trying to go or what you were trying to accomplish, but your mind and body reacted, prey instincts warning you to run. Your hands clawed pitifully against Simon’s back, scrabbling against well-worn cotton to find purchase, but neither man allowed you to move. They both remained still as statues, stone soldiers guarding you against your own anxiety, offering you the chance to calm yourself.
“Shh,” Kӧnig pulled aside his veil so his lips grazed your ear. “Shhh. Mein braver Liebling,” he murmured. “You can take it for me, yes?”
Something about his accented voice, husky and low in your ear made your clit throb and your body melt forward, your arms slack around Simon’s neck. His solid presence behind you was reassuring, the comfort of being submerged in water, a warm bath after a long and stressful day. Your head nestled into the crook of Simon's shoulder. Sweat and cologne mingled, something crisp and evergreen cut through the heady scent of sex all around you, overlaid by the natural scent of him. You breathed it in until it filled your senses, and eventually, the trembling in your limbs settled enough that the men were satisfied that you were docile once more.
"Yes. Good," Kӧnig praised.
He was true to his word; he didn't want to hurt you. He was gentle, slow as he worked his way forward, the thick head of his cock stretching the rim of your tight entrance. You’d never imagined that getting stuffed like this would be so…tender. Especially not from a couple of fighters, ruthless men who were long used to battles and taking no prisoners. Hushed praise in his native tongue and yours filled the quiet until your chest was fit to burst with feelings that you didn’t have the words for. There was mild discomfort as the tip finally popped inside, an unbelievably snug fit — but it did fit, if just barely. Your muscles finally made way for him, opened to him, submitted to his desire. Your mouth hung slack as his cock fought for space against the bulge of Simon’s shaft still sheathed in your heat, the two men only separated by your thin inner wall.
Your breath came in pants and sighs as he filled you with his slick shaft, seemingly endless. Just when you thought he was done, he pulled out and re-lubed his cock, not leaving you empty for long. He returned to his place inside of you — but he still was not done yet. No one had ever been so deep inside of you, and your velvety depths pulsed and ached at the exquisite burn of the stretch. Kӧnig's whispers tickled your ear, causing all the little hairs to rise over your body, every nerve alight with a desperate need. He pushed deeper yet, encouraging you to breathe, a reminder you apparently needed as your chest ached and burned with air-hunger. You took an especially deep breath and let it out slowly — one, two, three, four — and after what felt like an eternity, Kӧnig's hips touched the plump flesh of your bottom.
“Fuck,” he hissed behind you. “So goddamn tight.”
You could barely breathe with how full you were with both of your holes stretched to the brim. Your lower tummy tightened, the beginning of a climax spooling and winding within you at just this, neither of them even moving yet. But they wouldn't be still for long. The pair allowed you a few more beats, silent enjoyment of the thick heat buried deep within you.
And then they moved.
At first, both men thrust slowly, cautiously, sometimes one at a time, sometimes in tandem, testing the waters of your comfort and your body. Your arms tightened around Simon’s shoulders as pleasure began to overtake you, a billowing pressure inside that nothing you'd done before had even come close to rivaling. Liquid heat scorched through your veins, burning away any remaining scraps of uncertainty. In a move that surprised all three of you, you pushed back eagerly into the thrusts, inviting them to go harder, faster, to give you everything they had to offer. The pair obliged, picking up their speed, hurtling full force towards your undoing amidst the clink of belt buckles and the heavy breaths of the two men on either side of you.
The sound made you realize that both of them are still almost completely dressed, as if unwilling to let themselves become more vulnerable or unready for a quick getaway. You briefly wondered what that meant for you, but an especially deep thrust from Kӧnig caused fireworks to pop in your mind, erasing that worry. You bit your bottom lip to rein in the noises that threatened to escape you. You swallowed down wanton cries of pleasure and pleas for more, keeping them locked within your chest. Instead, all you let out was a small, choked moan, a remnant of the noises you sought so desperately to contain.
That wasn't good enough for Simon. He grabbed your chin roughly, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forced you to face him. “Don’t be selfish and keep those sweet little sounds to yourself, love — let us hear ‘em.”
Kӧnig’s slender finger snuck to rub your engorged clit, barely tapping it to further encourage you. You lifted your hips toward his touch, heeding Simon’s advice and allowing your noises to escalate further, louder than they had ever been before, abandoning every last shred of your restraint.
A blinding climax ripped through your body, all your muscles tightening as you clenched and writhed around the two cocks buried deep within you. Incoherent sounds tumbled from your trembling lips as their thighs flexed on either side of yours, powerful muscles moving in a synchronous tempo, their cocks rubbing against each other, separated only by the thin wall of muscle inside of you. The waves of bliss continued to ebb and flow, neither man stopping the pumping of their hips. The sounds pouring from your mouth now were positively lewd, filthy cries and moans that would normally have had you blushing crimson.
Right now, you didn't care if the entire city heard you.
Each cock hit a different spot within you, prolonging your orgasm until you were reduced to a quivering mess in their arms, zings of the aftershocks still wracking your body. Your release leaked around Simon’s cock, dripping down to dampen his pants, still bunched about his thighs.
When you finally descended from the high of your climax, the two men no longer held back, using you like a toy for their own desire, an object designed for just this singular purpose. They fought for dominance inside of you, two thick lengths sparring and grinding up into you. Calloused hands reached and gripped, scratched and clawed at every available bit of soft flesh.
And you loved it.
Your ass jiggled each time Kӧnig's hips crashed into you, a fleshy slap of skin on skin as his cock massaged deeper than anyone ever had before. You were helplessly pinned between two muscular chests as their lengths ravaged your depths, each taking what they needed from your stretched holes, chasing their own pleasure with little care for yours.
But in your blissed-out state, you were too far gone to mind in the slightest.
Being used like this fulfilled parts of you you didn't know were lacking and granted you a satisfaction deeper than your orgasm. You were theirs, to willingly take whatever they had to give you, pliant like warmed clay in their hands, molded into what they needed.
Your vision blurred and your ears rang as the blood rushed away from your head to other areas that demanded more. Your swollen and overstimulated clit smashed into Simon’s pelvis each time he pounded into you, accompanied by the low, rough grunts of men in the throes of their passion. A sense of weightlessness washed over you, as you became nothing but a ragdoll to be shared by the two bulky soldiers.
Time lost meaning as they both rammed into you in the dim apartment, but eventually, Simon’s hips jerked and rutted erratically, his movements now sloppy where before they had been smooth and sure.
"I'm close," Simon grunted in your ear between ragged breaths. "Where?"
Your brain was almost too far gone to register his meaning, but you felt his cock swell further inside of you, harder than you thought possible and you understood. "Inside," you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.
"Fuck, I'm cumming," Simon grunted, the sound tearing out from deep within his chest. His cock twitched inside of you, flooding you with sticky warmth that mingled with your own fluids.
Kӧnig wasn’t far behind, his lengthy thrusts turning into short pumps that kept you filled, nudging the deepest parts of you in a staccato pattern. A string of foreign curses hissed behind your ear, long fingers scratch at your hips, and his pelvis snapped forward one last time as he emptied himself into you. For a few moments, both men stayed like this with you, their cocks slowly softening as they caught their breath. Kӧnig removed himself first, and you winced as he popped out of your well-used hole. Cum leaked from you, but you were in no position to do anything about it — and well beyond caring at this point. Your eyes stayed shut, lashes wet as your cheek rested against Simon's shoulder, his T-shirt slightly damp from your mingled perspiration. Buckles and metal clinked, shuffling steps padded across the floor, and water ran in the sink.
Simon pulled out of you with a groan of his own and tried to let you stand, but your knees immediately faltered, all your energy already spent. You had nothing left to give. Powerful hands gripped your biceps to keep you upright. Warm fluid oozed from you, making more of a mess between your thighs. A damp towel was pressed to your holes and legs, swiping away the sticky evidence of your shared pleasure while more gentle praise was laid upon you, reminders of just how good you had been for them both. You were vaguely aware of the men talking to each other, but tiredness tugged at your eyelids, muffling your senses and understanding. All you wanted now was to sleep, just for a minute.
You were carried to the couch, half-lidded eyes taking in the dim light of the TV now turned on at low volume. The hiss of two beers snapping open pierced through the quiet. You looked up for a moment and saw the men tap the rims of their cans together with a muted metal sound and a hushed salute.
Your head was laid across a warm, muscular thigh, your legs and feet pulled over the other’s lap. You snuggled more deeply against the canvas-covered leg, yawning softly. Slender fingers grazed your scalp, fingernails lightly scratching, pulling you further into sleep with each pass over your locks. At your other end, thick fingertips traced swirling patterns along the silken skin of your calves. You stretched languidly as a blanket was laid over you, warm flannel, soft, the weight of it comforting. Your last coherent thought was that it probably wasn’t wise to fall asleep right now between these two men — complete strangers, really — but maybe a short rest couldn’t hurt.
After all, you wanted to be ready for round two.
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