#M/m

[urfavoritewriter]

Sleepeating

A commission for a user who prefers to remain anonymous, I had an absolute blast writing this commission that I overshoot well past the word count. Thank you so much for commissioning me! Content: Endosoma, safe vore, belly bulge, belly noises, squirming prey, struggling prey, internal view, accidental vore, sleepwalking vore, swollen belly, round belly, casual vore, male pred, human pred, M/M, large belly, stomach noises, tight stomach, prey struggling inside, long-term vore, unwilling prey, teasing, male prey.

The room was a patchwork of sleeping arrangements—an air mattress in the corner, a pile of mismatched blankets on the floor, and a couple of sleeping bags sprawled haphazardly around the twin beds. The glow of the TV bathed the room in flickering light, an old movie playing at low volume as the group lounged in various states of relaxation. Empty snack wrappers littered the nightstand, the faint smell of buttery popcorn hanging in the air.

“Alright, rookie, rule number one,” said Greg, a wiry guy with messy brown hair and a mischievous grin. He pointed a finger at the newcomer, his tone half-joking but carrying a thread of seriousness. “Don’t. Leave. The bed. At night.”

The newcomer, Andrew, raised an eyebrow, shifting awkwardly on the makeshift bed he’d been given. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and he fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie. “Uh… why?”

Zach, the host and arguably the most relaxed of the group, leaned back on his bed, his legs sprawled out like he didn’t have a care in the world. His blonde curls fell into his eyes as he glanced at Andrew with a lazy smile. “Because Matt sleepwalks,” he said, nodding toward the tallest guy in the room, who was currently shoving the last handful of chips from a bag into his mouth.

Matt swallowed, brushing crumbs off his shirt. “I do not sleepwalk that much,” he protested, though his friends groaned in unison.

“You tried to eat Greg’s shoe last time,” said Sarah, who sat cross-legged near the TV, her black hair tied in a loose ponytail. “Like, full-on chomped it.”

“I thought it was a burrito,” Matt shot back, raising his hands defensively. His broad shoulders and tall frame made him look intimidating, but the sheepish expression on his face softened the effect.

“Dude, you licked it,” Greg added with a laugh, tossing a pillow in Matt’s direction. “That’s where all the foot fetish allegations come from.”

Andrew chuckled nervously, glancing between the group. “So… what, do I need to sleep with one eye open?”

“Nah,” Zach said, waving a hand dismissively. “Just stay in bed. You’ll be fine. Matt’s like a human vacuum when he’s out of it, but as long as you’re not walking around, he’ll leave you alone.”

Andrew didn’t look entirely convinced. “A vacuum?”

“Yeah, a hungry vacuum,” Sarah teased. “Last time he cleaned out half the fridge. And Greg’s shoe, obviously.”

Matt groaned again. “Can we not make me sound like some kind of sleepwalking menace? I’m perfectly normal most of the time.”

“Yeah, sure,” Zach said with a smirk. He grabbed the remote and flicked through the TV channels before settling on a cheesy horror movie. “Just remember, Andrew, don’t wander around if you hear anything. It’s probably just Matt.”

Andrew nodded slowly, pulling a blanket over himself. “Got it. Stay put. Avoid the hungry vacuum.”

Greg snorted. “Smart guy. You’ll survive the night.”

The group laughed, the easy banter filling the room as the movie played in the background. Matt stretched, his frame nearly brushing the ceiling, before collapsing onto his pile of blankets with a loud yawn.

“Alright, lights out soon,” Zach announced, reaching for the lamp by his bed. “Let’s try not to add any more sleepwalking incidents to the list, huh?”

Matt grumbled something incoherent, already halfway to sleep. Andrew, still a little unsure of what he’d signed up for, settled into his makeshift bed, his mind buzzing with the warnings and teasing.

The room gradually grew quieter as everyone drifted off, leaving the TV to cast faint shadows across the walls. The night stretched ahead, calm and uneventful—for now.

Andrew stirred awake to the faint creak of a door hinge. His eyes fluttered open, the dim glow of the muted TV casting flickering shadows across the room. The others were still sprawled out in their makeshift beds, their steady breathing filling the quiet with a rhythmic hum. For a moment, Andrew thought he’d dreamed the noise—until he heard another faint sound.

Crunch.

His brow furrowed. It wasn’t loud, but it was distinct, like someone biting into a cracker. Groggily, he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he scanned the room. Everyone else seemed undisturbed, bundled in blankets or sprawled carelessly. Except—he counted quickly—Matt wasn’t there. The mound of blankets that had been his bed was empty, the pillow pushed to the side.

Andrew sighed, shaking his head as the warnings from earlier echoed in his mind. Matt sleepwalks. For a moment, he considered lying back down. It wasn’t like it was his problem, right? But the faint clink of something metallic, like a fork hitting a plate, piqued his curiosity. What’s he even doing?

Carefully, Andrew swung his legs over the edge of his mattress, the cool floor sending a faint shiver through him. He tiptoed toward the door, avoiding the stray wrappers and pillows strewn about, and gently turned the knob. The hallway was dark, the faint orange glow of a nightlight at the far end barely illuminating the space. He stepped out, his socked feet making no sound against the wooden floor.

Another crunch. Then the faint sound of chewing. Andrew followed it, squinting into the darkness as he made his way toward the kitchen. The air was cooler out here, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of a floorboard beneath his weight.

As he neared the source of the sounds, the faint hum of the refrigerator reached his ears. Then another noise—a soft, wet slurp, followed by what sounded like the rustling of a bag. Andrew hesitated for a moment, his heart beating a little faster. Is he seriously eating in his sleep?

He rounded the corner into the kitchen, the faint glow from the refrigerator spilling across the tile floor. Matt was there, hunched over slightly, one hand gripping the fridge door while the other clutched a half-empty bag of chips. His tall frame loomed in the dim light, his broad shoulders casting long shadows against the wall. His head moved slowly, rhythmically, as he chewed on something, completely unaware of Andrew’s presence.

Andrew stifled a laugh. They weren’t kidding. He really is a vacuum. He stepped closer, the floor cool beneath his feet. “Matt?” he whispered, his voice low to avoid startling him.

No response.

Andrew frowned, tilting his head. Matt’s movements were slow and deliberate, like he was in a trance. He dipped his hand into the bag again, pulling out another handful of chips and shoving them into his mouth without so much as glancing around. His other hand lazily swung the fridge door shut, casting the room into near darkness except for the faint glow of the microwave clock.

“Matt,” Andrew said a little louder, stepping closer.

Still no response. Matt’s chewing continued, unhurried and oddly methodical. Andrew couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed in the dim light, but there was something unsettling about the way he stood there, his tall frame casting looming shadows that swayed ever so slightly with each movement.

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Alright, buddy, back to bed,” he muttered, reaching out to nudge Matt’s shoulder. “You’re gonna—”

Before he could finish the thought, Matt’s head turned sharply, and Andrew froze. His mouth still moved rhythmically, chewing, but his gaze—or lack thereof—seemed distant, unfocused. His expression was blank, almost eerie, as if he wasn’t entirely present. Andrew took a step back instinctively, his pulse quickening.

“Uh… Matt?” he said hesitantly.

Matt didn’t respond. Instead, he turned back toward the counter, setting the empty chip bag down with a slow, deliberate motion. Andrew watched, unsure of what to do, as Matt’s hand hovered over a loaf of bread, his fingers brushing it as if deciding whether to grab it next.

“Okay, this is getting weird,” Andrew muttered to himself, taking another cautious step forward. He reached out again, this time aiming to grab Matt’s arm and steer him back toward the hallway. “Come on, man, let’s—”

Matt moved suddenly, his hand shooting out with surprising speed to grip Andrew’s wrist. Andrew’s breath hitched, his body tensing as Matt’s grip tightened. For a moment, Andrew thought he’d snapped out of it—that he was awake—but then Matt’s blank expression remained unchanged, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond Andrew, as though looking through him.

“Hey, uh, Matt? You good?” Andrew stammered, his voice wavering slightly.

Matt’s grip pulled him closer, the motion slow but unrelenting. Andrew’s heart raced, the air suddenly feeling heavier as he tried to tug his arm free. But Matt’s strength was impossible to resist, his movements steady and unnervingly purposeful.

“Okay, this is not funny anymore,” Andrew muttered, trying to keep his voice calm as he stumbled forward. The faintest hint of warm breath against his neck made him freeze, and in the dim light, he caught a glimpse of Matt’s mouth opening, his jaw stretching slightly in a way that made Andrew’s stomach twist.

What the hell is he doing?

Andrew tugged harder, but Matt’s grip was like iron, and his slow, trance-like movements didn’t falter. The air was thick with tension, the quiet hum of the fridge the only sound as Andrew realized, too late, that Matt wasn’t just sleepwalking.

He was hungry.

Andrew’s heart slammed in his chest as Matt’s grip tightened around his wrist. His breath hitched as he watched Matt’s jaw part further, the glisten of his tongue catching what little light remained in the kitchen.

“Matt?” Andrew’s voice cracked, his throat dry. “Matt, what the fuck are you doing?”

Matt didn’t respond, his head dipping slightly as his tongue slid over Andrew’s arm, leaving a wet, hot trail along his skin. The sensation made Andrew recoil, a sickening mix of fear and confusion twisting in his gut. The warm, slick press of Matt’s mouth closed around his hand, the wetness enveloping him inch by inch.

“Dude. DUDE!” Andrew yelped, his voice rising in pitch as he yanked at his arm. But Matt’s grip was unyielding, pulling him further in as his lips sealed around Andrew’s forearm.

Andrew’s panic flared. “Okay, okay, stop. You’re—you’re fucking sleepeating, man.” His voice wavered, fear lacing every word. “I’m not the food you’re looking for.”

Matt didn’t flinch. His throat emitted a low, almost guttural moan as he sucked harder, the heat of his mouth traveling up Andrew’s arm. Andrew froze, the realization slamming into him. Matt wasn’t biting. He wasn’t tearing at him like some animal. No, Matt was tasting him, savoring every inch as he worked his way upward.

“You’re not serious,” Andrew whispered, his voice trembling as he felt the first tug of Matt’s throat muscles against his fingers. The slick, rhythmic pressure sent a shiver through him. “Oh my God, you are serious.”

His fear spiked as Matt tilted his head back slightly, his lips creeping past Andrew’s elbow. The tight pull of Matt’s throat was unmistakable now, the wet, swallowing sounds filling the silence. Andrew thrashed, his free hand shoving at Matt’s shoulder, his legs scrambling against the tile.

The realization hit Andrew like a brick: He’s not going to chew. He’s—he’s actually swallowing me whole.

“Let go! Fuck, Matt, stop!” Andrew yelled, his voice cracking as he pushed against Matt’s solid frame. But Matt didn’t even flinch. His other hand reached out, grabbing Andrew’s free arm and pinning it firmly at his side.

“Matt, wake up! Wake the fuck up!” Andrew’s voice was frantic now, his breathing shallow as he realized he wasn’t winning this fight. The heat of Matt’s mouth climbed higher, engulfing his bicep as his throat worked in steady, deliberate gulps.

The sound of swallowing filled Andrew’s ears, wet and unrelenting. Each gulp sent a wave of pressure rolling over his arm, pulling him deeper. The slick walls of Matt’s throat pressed tightly against his skin, the heat unbearable, as though the demon vacuum of a friend was actually pulling this off.

“No—no way,” Andrew gasped, his voice shaking as he felt his shoulder press against Matt’s lips. “You can’t—you can’t actually—” He cut off with a yelp as Matt’s jaws stretched wider, the grip around his other arm tightening as it was shoved forward to join the first.

Matt’s body shuddered, his throat rippling as he moaned softly, the sound sending a sick chill down Andrew’s spine. Andrew squirmed harder, kicking out in blind panic, but Matt’s sheer size and strength made resistance feel hopeless.

Matt’s mouth stretched further, the slick wetness of his tongue sliding up Andrew’s arms and across his collarbone. A hot, humid wave of air rushed over Andrew’s face as his head was pulled inside, the suffocating heat making his skin prickle. His heart hammered wildly as his cheek grazed one of Matt’s teeth, smooth and solid, before his tongue pressed firmly against his jawline, dragging upward.

The texture was overwhelming—slick, wet, and unnervingly soft as Matt’s tongue worked under his chin, tasting him with deliberate, almost indulgent motions. Andrew’s nose was filled with the overpowering scent of saliva mixed with the faint, salty tang of whatever Matt had been eating earlier. The smell was thick, clinging to him, and the wet sounds of Matt’s swallowing filled his ears, drowning out his frantic thoughts.

Andrew’s head tipped back as Matt’s tongue curled up around it, smearing saliva through his hair, the wetness soaking into every strand. The pressure from Matt’s teeth framed him on either side, the curve of them brushing harmlessly against his skin, a terrifying reminder of the power being exercised with such unnatural care. The rhythmic movements of Matt’s throat muscles began to pull at him, the slick walls of his gullet brushing against the top of Andrew’s head.

Matt’s throat opened wide to welcome Andrew’s head, the slick, rippling walls pulling him deeper with a relentless rhythm. The heat was overwhelming, wrapping around his face as his chin slid past the soft, yielding base of Matt’s tongue. Andrew’s breath came in shallow gasps, the humid air thick with saliva as his ears were engulfed, the world outside muffled into nothing but the wet, squelching sounds of Matt’s swallowing.

“Matt! Please!” Andrew’s voice cracked, the reality of his situation slamming into him. He wasn’t just being tasted. Matt was swallowing him whole, his slick, warm throat stretching to accommodate him inch by inch.

With a soft, satisfied moan, Matt’s lips closed over the base of Andrew’s neck, his tongue pressing firmly against his nape as he paused to savor the flavor. The tight grip of Matt’s throat muscles around Andrew’s head was unrelenting, the pressure squeezing his features as the walls flexed in slow, deliberate waves, coaxing him further down into the slick, undulating depths of Matt’s body.

Andrew’s chest heaved as his shoulders disappeared past Matt’s lips, the overwhelming heat and wetness pressing against him from all sides. The rhythmic contractions of Matt’s throat dragged him deeper, his body sliding slowly but steadily downward.

“Let me go! You can’t—stop!” Andrew cried, his voice muffled now as Matt’s throat worked around his upper body, pulling him further inside. His head tilted back instinctively, his face brushing against the slick walls as he tried to find space to breathe.

Matt’s hands moved down, gripping Andrew’s waist as he adjusted his angle, tilting his head back even further. The motion sent Andrew sliding another few inches downward, the wet pressure of Matt’s throat wrapping tighter around him.

Andrew’s voice was hoarse now, his struggles growing weaker as Matt’s stomach loomed closer. He kicked out again, his legs finding no purchase as the strength of Matt’s throat muscles overpowered him.

Matt’s moan was louder this time, his hands gripping Andrew’s hips firmly as he tilted his head back once more, his jaws working over the final stretch of Andrew’s torso. The wet gulping sounds grew louder, more insistent, as Matt’s body adjusted to the bulk now sliding into his belly.

Andrew’s heart pounded wildly as the realization hit him in full force: Matt wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t waking up. And soon, he would be completely inside.

Matt’s lips stretched wide as Andrew’s chest passed through, the tight heat of his throat squeezing Andrew’s arms together and forcing them deeper into the belly below. The slick walls of Matt’s esophagus massaged him downward, inch by inch, the steady, relentless contractions making Andrew’s struggles futile. His muffled voice rose in panicked protests, but the pressure around him drowned out all but faint, garbled sounds.

Andrew’s wrists were the first to breach the stomach, the shift in temperature unmistakable as his hands entered a tight, churning space. The walls were slick and undulating, pressing in on him with rhythmic movements that kept him immobilized. His fingers twitched, brushing against half-digested food, the texture both slimy and unrecognizable. Crumbs of chips, something soft that might have been bread—it all surrounded him in the claustrophobic chamber.

“Matt!” Andrew’s muffled voice wavered, his wrists flicking helplessly as he tried to push back against the walls, but the unyielding stomach held him tight. The low gurgling noises grew louder, echoing in his ears as Matt’s body welcomed more of him inside.

From the outside, Matt’s stomach began to expand visibly, the taut skin rounding out with each inch of Andrew’s upper body. The bulge of his shoulders slid into Matt’s chest, making his throat stretch impossibly wide for a moment before the mass moved downward. Matt’s belly swelled larger, the distinct outline of Andrew’s arms faintly visible beneath the skin before they were engulfed by the folds of Matt’s stomach.

With another deep swallow, Matt worked past Andrew’s waist, his powerful throat muscles dragging him down steadily. Andrew’s head and shoulders entered the belly, the space impossibly tight as the walls pressed against him from all sides. He could feel the heat intensify, the air thick and humid, the noises of digestion surrounding him in a way that made it impossible to think.

“Matt! Let me—ugh—out!” Andrew’s voice was barely audible now, his movements weak and restricted as Matt’s stomach continued to stretch. The taut curve of Matt’s belly shifted with Andrew’s struggles, faint ripples moving across the surface as Matt leaned back slightly, savoring the sensation of fullness.

The bulge of Andrew’s hips reached Matt’s lips, and with one final, deliberate gulp, Matt began to take in his legs. The weight in his stomach grew heavier with each inch, the mass pressing firmly outward and rounding his belly into a large, pronounced dome. The elastic waistband of his shorts struggled to stay in place, the fabric digging into the curve of his swollen abdomen.

Andrew’s feet kicked faintly as they slid closer to Matt’s maw, but the demon vacuum of a friend was unrelenting. Another deep swallow brought Andrew’s thighs past his lips, and with a final, wet gulp, Matt’s jaws closed over Andrew’s feet. He tilted his head back one last time, his throat bulging as the remaining length of Andrew disappeared inside him.

The last of Andrew slid down, his curled legs folding into the cramped confines of Matt’s belly. The stomach expanded further, the tight skin visibly rippling as Andrew shifted and pushed against the walls. From the outside, Matt’s gut was enormous, the round shape jutting forward and shaking slightly with Andrew’s struggles. The once-faint sounds of digestion were now louder, a chorus of gurgles and sloshes as Matt’s stomach worked to accommodate its living occupant.

Matt let out a low, satisfied groan, his hands resting on the massive swell of his belly. The weight pressed down on his thighs as he adjusted his position, leaning back slightly against the counter. His fingers traced the outline of the bulge, faintly visible movements beneath the surface making him chuckle softly in his sleep.

Inside, Andrew squirmed, his body contorted in the tight, sweltering chamber. The heat and pressure were overwhelming, the rhythmic contractions of Matt’s stomach keeping him firmly in place. His muffled protests barely registered as Matt shifted, patting his belly with one hand, causing the entire dome to jiggle slightly.

From the outside, Matt’s gut was impossibly round, shaking faintly as Andrew’s movements stirred the contents within. The sight was surreal—a massive, bloated belly rising and falling with Matt’s steady breaths, the occasional ripple betraying the fact that someone was still awake and aware inside. With a faint snore, Matt leaned back further, completely oblivious to the chaos within his oversized stomach as the night stretched on.

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting golden streaks across the living room as the soft murmur of the TV played in the background. Most of the group had already gathered, sprawled across the couches and chairs in various states of morning grogginess. The smell of coffee lingered faintly in the air, mingling with the scent of leftover snacks from the night before.

“Dude, you have to see this,” Greg said, barely stifling his laughter as he pointed toward the couch. “Matt’s… uh, looking a little heavier this morning.”

Zach, sipping from a steaming mug, leaned over the back of his chair and raised an eyebrow. “Holy shit, Matt. You pack the fridge in there or what?”

All eyes turned toward the corner of the room, where Matt sat reclined on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the massive swell of his gut, the other scrolling casually through his phone. His belly was enormous, rounded and taut, rising and falling slightly with his breaths. It shook faintly every few moments, ripples traveling across the surface as muffled movements from inside caused the entire dome to wobble.

“Morning,” Matt said, barely looking up from his phone. His voice was casual, almost bored, as though this were just another day. He gave his belly a light pat, the sound echoing faintly in the room.

“Morning? That’s all you’ve got?” Sarah snorted, her eyes wide as she gestured toward his gut. “Are we not gonna talk about that?”

Matt finally glanced up, his expression unfazed. “Oh, this?” He gave his belly another pat, his hand sinking into the firm curve before it wobbled under his touch. “Yeah. I think I, uh… picked something up last night.”

From within, a faint, muffled voice was just barely audible. “Matt! What the hell’s going on? Let me out!” The bulge shook again, Andrew’s movements sending another ripple through the bloated surface.

“Oh my God, is that Andrew?” Greg burst out laughing, nearly spilling his coffee as he doubled over. “You ate him?”

“I didn’t eat him,” Matt said, his tone defensive but still nonchalant. “I was sleepwalking. He probably shouldn’t have been wandering around anyway.”

“Classic Matt,” Zach said, shaking his head with a grin. He grabbed a bag of chips from the counter and tossed it onto Matt’s belly. The bag bounced slightly before settling. “Can’t keep track of what goes in, huh?”

“Apparently not,” Matt muttered, giving his stomach a gentle rub as it gurgled faintly. Another ripple moved across the surface as Andrew shifted inside, his muffled protests drowned out by the low, groaning sounds of the packed belly.

“You’ll get out eventually, Andrew!” Sarah called out, her voice teasing as she leaned back against the armrest. “It’s just, uh… not as easy getting things out of Matt as it is getting them in.”

The group erupted into laughter, and even Matt couldn’t suppress a small chuckle, his hand absently stroking the round swell of his gut. “Yeah, you might be in there for a bit,” he admitted, his voice casual. “But hey, you seem comfy enough.”

“Comfy?” Andrew’s muffled voice rose again, frustration clear even through the thick walls of Matt’s stomach. “It’s cramped, it’s hot, and I’m—ugh! Stop laughing!”

“Sorry, man,” Zach said, his tone anything but apologetic as he tossed a pillow onto Matt’s stomach. “It’s just… you’re part of the crew now. Matt’s version of a warm welcome.”

Sarah shook her head, grinning. “Andrew, if it makes you feel better, you’re not the first thing Matt’s eaten in his sleep. Just, uh, definitely the biggest.”

Greg chimed in, smirking. “And the loudest. Dude, that belly’s been shaking all morning.”

The group’s laughter filled the room again, and even Andrew seemed to give up on protesting, his movements slowing inside the tight confines of Matt’s stomach. Matt, unbothered, leaned back further into the couch, his phone still in hand as he stretched his legs out lazily.

“Well,” Matt said, his voice calm as ever, “I guess we’re all set for breakfast… and entertainment.”

Another round of laughter erupted, and the room settled into a comfortable rhythm, the group teasing and chatting as Matt lounged with his oversized, animated belly. Andrew shifted slightly inside, grumbling muffled protests, but the group’s lighthearted energy made it clear—this was all just another part of the fun.

[x3no9]

Thank you @xio Puppy on X for this adorable comic to go with my newest Soap x Ghost fic.

[whitedarkmoonflower]

When Shadows Yield to Light

Pairing: Uhtred x Sihtric x Finan

Authors note: this is my birthday gift to the amazing and one-of-a-kind @alexagirlie 🎉 It also happens to be the first m/m fic I’ve ever written—and if it's the first why not dive straight into a poly one, right? 🙈 Oh, I will not lie—I struggled a lot to make this work at the beginning, but then at some point it started to flow and I was in awe at myself 😅 Hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you! ❤️

Warnings: SMUT 18+, m/m/m, oral sex, anal sex, subtle hints of past abuse and trauma (read: my daily doses of angst prescribed by doctor, sorry I can't without it)

Word Count: 5,5K

Summary: With his hand hovering over his lord’s door, Sihtric hesitates, gathering his courage to knock, unaware that what awaits him on the other side will change everything he thought he knew about loyalty, desire, and himself.

Please remember that comments and reblogs are two things that make writers smile and keep us motivated.

Sihtric's breath came in ragged bursts as he tried to calm his frantic heartbeat. His hand hovered in the air, poised to knock on the door, but hesitation gripped him. His fist unclenched, and his palm pressed flat against the rough wood instead.

He leaned his forehead against the door, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hand balled into a fist again, ready to knock—but before he could summon the courage, the door creaked open. The unexpected sound made Sihtric flinch.

"Sihtric?" Uhtred's voice was thick with surprise.

"Yes, lord!" The young Dane quickly raised his eyes to meet his lord's questioning gaze, heat rising to his cheeks. His mind raced, scrambling for an excuse, any explanation for why he was standing outside his lord’s chambers in the dead of night.

Uhtred’s hair was loose, cascading over his broad shoulders in thick, windswept waves. Sihtric’s breath hitched as his eyes briefly swept over Uhtred’s bare chest. The firelight from behind cast a warm, flickering glow over his skin, illuminating the scars that marked his body like battle-worn trophies. Clad only in his breeches, Uhtred stood barefoot, his powerful frame filling the doorway.

Sihtric’s heart stammered, not just from the embarrassment of waking his lord but from something deeper—an unspoken reverence for the man who stood before him. He swallowed hard, but as he did, he caught sight of something else—a shadow moving behind Uhtred. Sihtric’s eyes widened in realisation.

Uhtred was not alone.

The thought hit him like a blow to the chest, and another wave of embarrassment surged through him, making his cheeks burn hotter than before. His pulse quickened in shame. 

“I’m sorry,” Sihtric mumbled, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s nothing important. It can wait. I’m sorry…” He took a step back, eager to retreat, to erase his intrusion.

But Uhtred didn’t let him go so easily.

"What is it, Sihtric?" Uhtred arched an eyebrow, his voice calm but carrying a strange edge. “It must have been important enough for you to come here in the middle of the night.”

Sihtric hesitated, torn between the need to speak and the urge to disappear. His hand clenched at his side, and he could feel Uhtred's gaze on him, piercing and unyielding. He stole another glance at Uhtred’s chest, at the way the firelight played across his skin, but the presence of someone hidden in the shadows of the room behind him made him feel increasingly embarrassed and even stupid. His lips parted, but no words came. 

Sihtric had needed all his courage to come here, he didn’t know he would need more of it. He hadn’t even thought of what would come after.

Uhtred watched the young Dane with increasing curiosity. The way his cheeks painted crimson, the way he swallowed hard as his eyes moved back to Uhtred’s bare chest over and over again although he tried to keep them casted down.

“Sihtric,” his voice was commanding and made the young Dane freeze in his tracks. “Come in.”

Sihtric swallowed hard. He hesitated, his feet rooted to the ground as though the floorboards beneath him were quicksand. He felt a lump rise in his throat, but he didn’t dare disobey. Slowly, he stepped forward, his leather boots creaking softly against the wood. Uhtred moved aside, allowing Sihtric to enter the chamber, and the door closed with a quiet thud behind him.

The warmth of the fire enveloped Sihtric, a stark contrast to the cold sweat on his back. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the shadow he had seen earlier. It was then he noticed him. Finan stood, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his bare chest.

Finan’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, though his expression remained guarded. His dark hair was tousled, and his smirk was just visible in the flickering firelight. He tilted his head slightly, a brow arched as he studied Sihtric.

“Well, isn’t this a sight,” Finan drawled, his Irish accent pleasant but teasing. “The pup comes scratchin’ at the door in the middle of the night. What’s wrong, lad? Couldn’t sleep without hearin’ a bedtime story?”

Sihtric’s cheeks burned hot, and he clenched his fists at his sides. The weight of both men’s gazes pressed down on him, making it nearly impossible to form words. He glanced at Uhtred, who stood nearby, arms crossed in silent expectation, then back at Finan.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Sihtric muttered, his voice tight.

“That much is clear,” Finan said with a chuckle, pushing off the wall. He stepped closer, his smirk softening. “So, what’s eatin’ at you, lad? It’s not like you to be skulkin’ around at this hour.”

“Finan,” Uhtred’s voice cut through the air, firm and commanding, halting whatever teasing remark his friend was about to unleash. The flicker of discomfort on Sihtric’s face didn’t escape him—the young Dane looked as if he might combust from sheer embarrassment. Uhtred turned to the table, grabbed a mug, and poured a generous serving of ale.

“Here,” he said, offering it to Sihtric with a calm, steady gaze.

The ale was fresh, its strong flavour filling Sihtric with a surprising warmth that settled his nerves, if only slightly. He drank it quickly, the liquid sliding down his throat in hasty gulps. His eyes, however, betrayed him, flitting between Uhtred and Finan. The sight before him was hard to ignore—two formidable warriors, their muscles shifting under scarred, sun-kissed skin, their powerful frames clad in nothing but breeches. Only then did it strike him as odd. They were both shirtless, their bare feet scuffing softly against the worn wooden floor as they moved.

“I… I didn’t mean to disturb…” Sihtric stammered, his voice faltering under their stares. His wide, darting eyes kept shifting between his lord and Finan.

“That much you’ve already said,” Uhtred smirked, the corner of his lips quirking upward. Sihtric couldn’t help but notice the glint in his lord’s eyes—a strange, intense hunger. It was unsettling and captivating all at once. Uhtred licked his lips as he took a step closer, and Sihtric froze under his gaze.

“I think it’s time to stop playing games,” Uhtred continued, his voice softer now, a low rumble that made Sihtric’s heart race. He tilted his head, two deep pools of piercing blue watching as Sihtric flinched slightly when Uhtred’s hand came to rest on the young Dane’s shoulder.

The air in the room seemed heavier, the flickering fire casting golden light and long, wavering shadows that danced across the walls. Sihtric could feel his heartbeat pounding in his throat, his body frozen between fight and flight or maybe something else.

“You’ve been holding back for too long, haven’t you?” Uhtred asked, his voice low, velvety growl that sent a shiver down Sihtric’s spine.

“I—” Sihtric started, but his words failed him. 

“You’re not very good at hiding it, lad,” Finan said from his place near the fire, his tone a teasing drawl, though his voice was softer than usual. “Always sneaking glances, always looking like you’ve got somethin’ to say but never quite sayin’ it. Don’t worry—we’ve been patient.”

Sihtric’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to protest, to deny the words, but the knowing smiles on both their faces silenced him. Uhtred took another step closer, his bare chest inches from Sihtric’s own. The Dane felt as if the floor beneath him might give way entirely.

Uhtred’s hand slid from Sihtric’s shoulder, the touch slow and deliberate, trailing down his arm until his fingers brushed against Sihtric’s wrist. “It’s all right,” Uhtred murmured, his other hand gently tipping Sihtric’s chin upward, forcing him to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to hide anything from us, Sihtric. Not here.”

“We all know why you’re here, Sihtric,” he murmured, his tone laced with something almost tender as he nodded toward Finan. Sihtric hadn’t even noticed how quietly Finan had closed the distance, until now, as he felt the Irishman’s presence at his back and his palms landing on Sihtric’s waist.

For a brief moment, Sihtric’s chest tightened, his breath catching in his throat as his body tensed. A shiver ran through him, a flicker of unease clawing its way up his spine. The warmth of Finan’s breath against his neck felt too close, the firm touch of his hands too familiar in a way that made his skin prickle.

They were still there, buried deep in his mind—the dark shadows, reminding him of hands that had been neither kind nor wanted, when touch had come without care, and voices had carried commands laced with cruelty, not warmth. 

Sihtric’s shoulders stiffened, pulse hammering erratically and Finan paused, his movements faltering as he caught the tremor in Sihtric’s frame. Finan’s gaze darted to Uhtred, confusion flashing in his eyes before understanding dawned. Uhtred nodded subtly, his hand remaining firm on Sihtric’s wrist, steadying him. Finan softened instantly, his hands loosening their hold as his fingers brushed gently over Sihtric’s hips in a soothing motion.

“Easy, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice quiet and warm, the teasing edge replaced by soft worry. “You’re safe here. You set the pace. Always.”

Sihtric swallowed hard, his lips parting as if to respond, but his throat felt too tight. The warmth radiating from Uhtred’s body, the intensity of his gaze, and Finan’s steady presence behind him were overwhelming. 

Sihtric’s pulse quickened, each beat thundering in his ears as his thoughts spun wildly, a whirlwind of confusion and anticipation. He felt the brush of Finan’s hand against his back, steady and reassuring, but the heat of it burned through the fabric of his tunic.

The warmth of their bodies, so close to his own, seemed to seep into him, igniting a strange, dizzying heat. He could feel Finan behind him, his breath a soft whisper against Sihtric’s neck, while Uhtred’s hand kept him rooted in place. 

There was no escape—not that Sihtric was entirely certain he wanted one.

Sihtric drew in a shaky breath, the grounding warmth of their touch pulling him back to the present, reminding him this was different—they were different.

Finan stepped closer, his fingers brushing against Sihtric’s shoulder as he leaned in. “You don’t need to say a word,” Finan murmured, his breath warm against Sihtric’s ear. “Not if you don’t want to.”

The words sent a shudder through Sihtric, his breath hitching as a flood of emotions threatened to drown him. A part of him wanted to run, to escape and hide, erasing this moment from his memory. But another part—a part he barely dared to acknowledge—wanted to stay, to see what would happen if he let himself fall into the warmth of their embrace.

Uhtred’s thumb brushed lightly across Sihtric’s jaw, his voice soft yet commanding. “Trust us.”

The simple words unravelled something deep within Sihtric, the last thread of resistance snapping as he exhaled another shaky breath. He nodded, his movements hesitant but deliberate.

“There’s a good lad,” Finan murmured, his voice tinged with pride as he pressed a reassuring hand to Sihtric’s back.

Uhtred leaned in first, his lips brushing against Sihtric’s in a feather-light touch, testing the waters, giving him the chance to pull away. But Sihtric didn’t move; instead, he tilted his head slightly, leaning into the kiss with a tentative eagerness that made Uhtred smile against his mouth.

When Uhtred pulled back, Finan was already there, his hands resting on Sihtric’s shoulders as he turned him gently. “My turn,” Finan said with a grin before capturing Sihtric’s lips in a kiss that was softer, slower, but no less certain.

Sihtric felt himself melting under Finan’s touch, the kiss sending a warmth spiralling through him that he hadn’t expected. Finan’s lips were softer than he imagined, his movements unhurried yet firm, giving Sihtric the space to respond. The room seemed to grow quieter, the crackling of the fire dimming under the sound of their breaths mingling. When Finan finally pulled away, his forehead pressed gently to Sihtric’s, the Irishman’s ever-present grin softened into something more tender.

“See?” Finan murmured, his hands sliding down to rest on Sihtric’s arms. “Nothin’ to be scared of, lad.”

Sihtric blinked at him, his heart pounding so hard he swore they must have heard it. His lips tingled from their kisses, and his cheeks burned hot, but the fear he’d expected to feel wasn’t there. Instead, there was a strange, overwhelming sense of belonging.

Uhtred’s hand on his lower back reminded him of his presence. Sihtric turned to find his lord watching him with the same steady confidence that had drawn him to Uhtred from the very beginning. There was no hesitation, no doubt—only an invitation to take another step forward.

“Do you trust us now?” Uhtred asked, his voice low and coaxing. His thumb brushed against Sihtric’s cheek again, a gesture so gentle it made Sihtric’s breath hitch.

“Yes, lord,” Sihtric whispered, the words leaving his lips without hesitation this time.

“Good,” Uhtred said with a nod, his expression softening further. “Because this isn’t about orders or loyalty. This is about us. You, me, and Finan. And it only happens if you want it to.”

Sihtric swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between the two men. He felt the weight of their sincerity, the way they were giving him space even now to choose. It was almost too much—this kindness, this care—but Sihtric found himself nodding again, this time more firmly.

“I want this,” he said, his voice steadier. “I—I want you. Both of you.”

Finan let out a soft laugh, pulling Sihtric into a one-armed embrace. “That’s the spirit, lad. You’ve made us wait long enough.”

Uhtred chuckled, stepping closer until their bodies nearly touched. His hand slid from Sihtric’s cheek to the back of his neck, his fingers threading through the shorter hair there. “Then there’s no more need for hesitation,” he murmured, leaning in once more.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more certain, and Sihtric found himself responding instinctively. His hands, unsure at first, reached up to rest against Uhtred’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips. Uhtred hummed approvingly, the sound reverberating against Sihtric’s lips.

Finan, never one to be left out, pressed his lips to the side of Sihtric’s neck, his breath hot against his skin as his hands trailed down Sihtric’s sides. The combination of their touches, their warmth surrounding him, made Sihtric feel as though he was standing at the edge of something vast and uncharted. But for once, he wasn’t afraid to step forward.

Their hands moved with a gentle confidence, working together to free Sihtric from his clothes. Each touch sent sparks skittering across his skin, leaving him breathless. The room felt impossibly warm, every brush of their hands, lips, and bodies drawing him deeper into the haze of sensation. Sihtric’s head spun, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all but unable to resist the way it consumed him.

Finan’s beard tickled pleasantly against his neck as he trailed kisses along the sensitive skin there, each press of his lips followed by a soft nip or a slow, deliberate suck that left Sihtric shivering. His hands gripped at Finan’s shoulders, desperate for something to hold on as his body was set alight.

Uhtred, ever commanding even in this, captured his lips with heated urgency. His tongue swept into Sihtric’s mouth, claiming and exploring with an intensity that made Sihtric moan. The sound was swallowed by Uhtred’s kiss, his fingers threading through Sihtric’s hair to hold him close.

A sharp gasp escaped Sihtric as Finan’s hand slid lower, curling firmly around his cock. The Irishman’s touch was sure, his fingers stroking with a deliberate rhythm that had Sihtric arching into his palm.

“Would you look at that,” Finan chuckled, his voice thick with admiration as he glanced down. His grin was playful but tinged with genuine appreciation. “You’ve been truly gifted, lad.”

Sihtric’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson at Finan’s words, the compliment landing somewhere between embarrassment and pride. His response was a shaky, breathless moan as Finan’s hand moved again, teasing and coaxing more sounds from him.

“Careful, Finan,” Uhtred murmured against Sihtric’s lips, pulling back just enough to speak. His voice was low, teasing but commanding all the same. “Don’t overwhelm him too quickly.”

Finan smirked, his gaze flicking up to meet Uhtred’s. “Overwhelm? This lad’s a warrior, isn’t he? He can take it.”

Sihtric’s lips parted, a soft whimper escaping as the sensations mounted, the combination of Finan’s skilled touch and Uhtred’s intense presence threatening to undo him completely.

Uhtred’s hand drifted down, his fingers brushing over Sihtric’s chest before resting at his hip. “He can take it,” Uhtred agreed with a knowing smile, his eyes locking onto Sihtric’s. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t savour this.”

The slow, deliberate way they worked together to unravel him left Sihtric trembling, his body responding to their every touch. He let himself go, surrendering to the safety of their hands, the warmth of their bodies, and the unspoken promise in their eyes: he was theirs, and they would take care of him.

Sihtric’s eyes widened in surprise, his breath hitching as he watched his lord sink gracefully to his knees. The sight alone was enough to send a jolt through him—a man as powerful and commanding as Uhtred lowering himself before him, the flicker of a mischievous glint lighting up his intense gaze.

“L-Lord…” Sihtric stammered, his voice shaky, his mind struggling to keep pace with the reality unfolding before him. But before he could form a coherent thought, his words were stolen from him. A raw, unrestrained moan tore from his throat as Uhtred’s lips wrapped around him, warm and firm.

The sensation was incredible. Uhtred’s mouth moved with deliberate purpose, his tongue tracing along Sihtric’s length in a way that made his knees threaten to give in. Sihtric’s hands shot out instinctively, clutching at Uhtred’s broad shoulders, desperate for support as his body betrayed him, buckling under the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

“By the gods…” Sihtric breathed, his head tilting back as he surrendered to the waves of sensation coursing through him, fingers flexing against Uhtred’s skin.

Uhtred glanced up at him, his eyes smouldering with a mixture of amusement and intent. Uhtred’s hands gripped Sihtric’s hips, firm enough to steady him but not restricting, allowing Sihtric to move if he needed to.

Behind him, Finan’s low chuckle rumbled through the air. “Looks like our young Dane’s got himself in good hands,” he teased, his voice dripping with warmth and mischief. Sihtric felt a flush spread across his skin, heat pooling in his cheeks and chest, but there was no time to respond—not with the way Uhtred’s mouth and tongue were drawing another lewd sound from his lips.

“Relax, lad,” Finan murmured, pressing himself flush against Sihtric’s back, his hand settling at the base of Sihtric’s neck, grounding him with a gentle squeeze. “Let yourself enjoy it.”

Sihtric’s breath hitched again, his body trembling as he surrendered fully to the overwhelming current of pleasure coursing through him. Uhtred worked him with practised ease, his lips and tongue driving Sihtric to the brink, unravelling him completely. The young Dane’s hands clutched desperately at Uhtred’s hair, his fingers tangling in the soft strands as his hips moved involuntarily, seeking more of the bliss Uhtred offered.

Soft, broken moans spilled from Sihtric’s lips, each one more desperate than the last. His head tilted back, resting heavily against Finan’s chest. The Irishman’s arms wrapped around him, holding him steady.

“I’m close,” Sihtric gasped, his voice trembling with a mix of urgency and embarrassment. “Lord, I—I can’t hold back anymore.”

Finan’s chuckle was warm against Sihtric’s ear, his breath tickling the sensitive skin and sending another shiver through him. “Then don’t, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice low and coaxing. His lips brushed against Sihtric’s ear as he whispered, “Let go. Cum for your lord.”

Uhtred couldn’t respond, his mouth otherwise occupied, but the muffled hum of his approval vibrated against Sihtric, sending him over the edge. Sihtric cried out, his body tensing as the wave of release crashed over him, leaving him trembling in their arms. Uhtred didn’t pull back, his movements slowing but deliberate, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from Sihtric until the young Dane was spent.

Sihtric slumped bonelessly against Finan, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Uhtred finally pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked up at Sihtric, a mischievous but satisfied grin tugging at his lips.

“Good lad,” Uhtred smirked, his voice rough with satisfaction. Finan chuckled softly, his fingers brushing tenderly through Sihtric’s damp hair, sending a ripple of warmth down the young Dane’s spine.

“That was only the beginning, boy,” Finan said with a teasing grin. “We’ve got the whole night ahead of us.”

Sihtric’s cheeks flushed a deeper crimson, his chest rising and falling in heavy waves as he struggled to process what had just happened. It all felt impossible, like a dream too vivid to be real. Just moments ago, he had been standing outside Uhtred’s door, his courage faltering with every second that passed. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought this was what awaited him beyond that closed door.

He had grown too accustomed to giving himself away—his body a vessel for others’ pleasure, used to fleeting encounters with little room for his own needs. But this… this was different. Encircled by Uhtred’s steady strength and Finan’s teasing warmth, Sihtric felt a tenderness he hadn’t dared to hope for, a care that cradled him as much as their hands did.

He shuddered, a quiet, almost involuntary movement, as a thought crossed his mind. Is this what being loved feels like?

Finan’s hand gently gripping his wrist brought him back to reality, the Irishman’s steady pull coaxing him toward the bed. The fur-covered surface seemed impossibly soft, a stark contrast to the rugged hands that guided him. Sihtric followed willingly, his steps hesitant but unresisting, the shy smile tugging at his lips betraying the sweet anticipation coursing through his veins.

“Don’t hold back now, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice softer than before, the teasing edge tempered by genuine care. “This night’s for you, too.”

Uhtred was already there, reclining against the plush furs with a confidence that made Sihtric’s pulse quicken. His eyes, warm and steady, met Sihtric’s, silently promising safety and desire in equal measure. Sihtric felt his breath hitch, but he didn’t falter. He let Finan guide him closer, the weight of their attention both overwhelming and comforting.

The bed dipped under their combined weight as Finan joined them, his hand never leaving Sihtric’s wrist, as if he felt how much Sihtric needed that—not to lose the physical contact reassuring him that this was indeed real, anchoring him in presence. Uhtred’s hand reached out, cupping Sihtric’s cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line along his jaw.

“This is your place,” Uhtred said softly, his voice steady and firm, leaving no room for doubt. “With us.”

Sihtric swallowed hard, his chest tightening with emotion as he nodded. His lips parted to speak, but no words came—none were needed. Instead, he leaned forward, letting himself fall into their embrace once more, the warmth of their bodies and the tenderness of their touches setting him on fire once again.

“Go on, take him. Don’t hold back—our lord loves it a bit rough,” Finan whispered, his voice a low, raspy tease that sent a shiver cascading down Sihtric’s spine. The young Dane hesitated, his eyes drinking in the sight of Uhtred’s naked body sprawled before him, strong and inviting, yet somehow vulnerable in his surrender.

“And if you want,” Finan murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of Sihtric’s ear, “I’ll do the same for you.” The words, paired with the subtle press of Finan’s cock against him, made Sihtric’s own twitch with a desperate need that left him gasping.

His body was a storm of sensations, his cock throbbing and leaking from all the affection Uhtred and Finan had lavished upon him. It felt as if no part of him had been left untouched, every inch of his skin kissed, claimed, and adored. Their passion had unravelled him completely, stripping him of any fear or doubt. Sihtric had given back all he could—his lips and hands exploring every scar and curve, his mouth yielding eagerly, letting them fuck it until tears spilled down his cheeks.

He had poured himself into every touch, helping to prepare Uhtred with fingers slicked in rose-scented oil, savouring the way his lord’s body responded to him. And when Finan’s fingers had worked their way into Sihtric’s own body, spreading him open with careful but relentless intent, his moans had turned to cries of wild pleasure.

He pressed the head of his cock against Uhtred’s entrance and Uhtred moaned, his head tipping back onto the bed, exposing the strong line of his throat. “You know what to do, don’t you?” Finan asked, his voice a mixture of encouragement and playful challenge. His hands rested firmly on Sihtric’s hips, steadying him as he pressed his own body closer, teasing Sihtric’s hole with his cock.

Sihtric nodded, though his breath was shaky and uneven. The heat of Finan’s body at his back and the sight of Uhtred laid bare before him were almost too much to bear. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, summoning the courage he needed. Slowly, he began to push forward, the tight heat of Uhtred’s body drawing him in, inch by inch.

Uhtred groaned, his hands fisting in the furs beneath him, his body arching slightly as he took Sihtric in. “By the gods, you are perfect, Sihtric,” Uhtred murmured, his voice thick and laden with pleasure. “Don’t stop. Take what you need.”

Finan’s grip on Sihtric’s hips tightened as he leaned in, his breath hot against Sihtric’s neck. “That’s it, lad. See? You were made for this,” he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and desire. The tip of his cock pressed insistently against Sihtric’s entrance, adding a delicious pressure that made the young Dane gasp.

Sihtric’s gasp turned into a low, trembling moan, his body caught in the intoxicating heat between Uhtred and Finan. The pressure at his back combined with the tightness of Uhtred’s body around him sent his senses spiralling. 

“Easy now,” Finan murmured, his lips grazing the back of Sihtric’s neck. His voice was steady, but the hunger in it was unmistakable. “Let yourself feel it.”

Sihtric bit his lip, nodding faintly as he began to move, his hips rocking slowly, tentatively, in and out of Uhtred’s welcoming heat. Every motion sent ripples of pleasure through him, Uhtred’s low groans encouraging him to keep going, to take more. But the insistent presence of Finan behind him made it impossible to stay focused, the Irishman’s cock teasing at his entrance, driving him mad.

“Good,” Uhtred rasped, his voice a mix of command and approval as his hands reached up, finding Sihtric’s upper arms. He squeezed them lightly, his fingertips digging into the taut muscle. “You are so good, Sihtric,” he groaned, spreading himself even more open to give Sihtric better access to his pulsing hole, to take him in deeper.

Finan chuckled softly, his teeth grazing the shell of Sihtric’s ear as his hands guided the younger man’s hips in a rhythm that matched his own teasing movements. “Ready for the next step, lad?” he asked, his tone equal parts gentle and wicked. “I think you can take it.”

Sihtric’s breath hitched, his heart racing as he nodded, overwhelmed but unwilling to stop. Finan pressed forward, the thick head of his cock breaching Sihtric’s entrance with a slow, deliberate push. The sensation was sharp at first, but the burn quickly melted into pleasure, coaxed along by the steady reassurance of Finan’s hands on his hips and the whispered words of encouragement in his ear.

“You’re doing so well,” Finan murmured, his voice husky. 

Sihtric cried out softly, his hands gripping Uhtred’s thighs as he tried to steady himself. The fullness of having both of them—Uhtred beneath him wrapped around his cock and Finan behind—was overwhelming in the best way possible. He had never felt so completely surrounded, so entirely claimed, yet so safe.

Uhtred’s hands slid up, brushing over Sihtric’s sides before grabbing his waist, pulling him slightly closer. “Good lad,” Uhtred groaned, his head tipping back as he watched Sihtric’s movements grow more confident. “You’re perfect, Sihtric. Absolutely perfect.”

Finan’s hips began to move in tandem with Sihtric’s, the three of them finding a rhythm that sent shocks of pleasure coursing through their bodies. The room was filled with the sounds of their moans, the rustling of the furs beneath them, and the faint crackle of the firelight casting their intertwined shadows on the walls. 

Sihtric’s pace quickened, his movements growing bolder as he lost himself in the pleasure. Uhtred’s low, guttural moans urged him on, the sound rolling over him like a wave, spurring him on to thrust harder, deeper. Each time he drove into his lord, it was met with a shuddering gasp or a whispered encouragement, Uhtred’s body arching beneath him in pure bliss.

Behind him, Finan’s hands gripped his hips with a steadying strength, guiding his movements and matching them with thrusts of his own. The stretch and fullness as Finan worked him with deliberate precision sent jolts of heat racing through Sihtric’s veins, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. He felt caught between them, utterly surrounded and consumed, yet completely whole.

“Give it to him, lad,” Finan growled, his voice rough with desire. “Show him what you’ve got. Don’t hold back.”

Uhtred’s fingers dug into Sihtric’s waist, his head tipping back onto the furs as his body tensed. “Yes,” Uhtred groaned, his voice thick and breathless. “Just like that. Don’t stop. Don’t—ah—stop.”

Sihtric couldn’t hold back any longer. His rhythm became relentless, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. He felt Finan’s cock stretching and filling him with every movement, while Uhtred’s tight hole pulsed and clenched around him with every thrust, the dual sensations overwhelming him completely. His cries mixed with Uhtred’s, his voice breaking as pleasure overtook him.

It happened all at once. Uhtred’s body arched, his hands gripping Sihtric’s arms with bruising force as he reached his climax, a deep, guttural moan tearing from his throat, cum spurting from his untouched cock and painting his belly white. The sight of his lord lost in pleasure was all it took to push Sihtric over the edge. He buried himself deep one last time, his body trembling violently as his orgasm ripped through him, leaving him gasping and shuddering as he filled Uhtred’s hole with endless ropes of his own seed.

Behind him, Finan’s rhythm faltered, his breathless groans filling the room as he pounded into Sihtric chasing his own release. He pushed deeply into Sihtric one final time. His hands tightened on Sihtric’s hips as he spilled into him with a loud growl, his head falling forward onto Sihtric’s back. 

They stayed like that for a moment, their bodies entwined, trembling and spent. The room slowly quieted, the only sounds remaining the soft crackle of the fire and their laboured breaths. Sihtric slumped forward, his head resting against Uhtred’s chest, while Finan’s arms encircled him from behind, holding him steady. The weight of their bodies pressed together was grounding, comforting, and impossibly intimate.

“You were incredible, lad,” Finan murmured, his lips brushing against Sihtric’s ear.

Uhtred’s hand moved to stroke Sihtric’s hair, his voice soft and full of warmth. “More than that—you were perfect.”

As the aftershocks of pleasure faded, the three of them shifted slowly, their breaths evening out. Finan eased himself back onto the bed, his arms still loosely wrapped around Sihtric’s waist, pulling him down with him. Uhtred moved to Sihtric’s other side, his hand brushing over the young Dane’s hair with quiet affection as they settled into the furs.

Uhtred tugged the thick furs over them, ensuring Sihtric was snugly nestled between him and Finan. The younger man let out a soft sigh, his head resting against Uhtred’s chest, while Finan pressed a gentle kiss to his temple from behind.

“Sleep, lad,” Finan murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness and satisfaction. “You’ve earned it.”

Uhtred’s hand continued to trace soothing patterns over Sihtric’s back, his other arm resting comfortably over both of them. “Rest now,” he said quietly, his tone carrying the same commanding reassurance that had drawn Sihtric to him from the start. “You’re safe. You’re ours.”

Sihtric’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, his body completely at ease between theirs. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt not just desired but cherished, loved in a way he hadn’t thought possible. A faint, contented smile played on his lips as sleep claimed him, the steady rise and fall of Uhtred and Finan’s breaths lulling him into peaceful oblivion.

[acecroft]

KYLE GALLNER & JOHNNY BERCHTOLD as Benson & Bradley in The Passenger (2023)

[ao3demographicssurvey2024]

In the AO3 Demographics Survey 2024 - an unofficial demographics survey of 16,131 AO3 users - the "Mature" rating was ranked most enjoyed by consumers, while those posting works most frequently posted "Teen and Up". Only 16% of those who had posted works to AO3 said they had never posted M/M, while 69% of consumers "Strongly Enjoyed" M/M works.

To see more analysis, including transcripts of all the data shown on the graphs, please view the full results on AO3 for both ratings and relationship types.

[michoodles]

I was just an only child of the universe ✨

And then I found you ☄️

Movie Sonadow it's going to kill me.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Do you still taking ideas for writing?

Can I request a fantasy setting Villain that takes interest in the Fantasy Hero (his nemesis)'s younger brother? Like 'you are more interesting than your dumbass of brother and his hero party? Perhaps trying to become his Evil Mentor?

"Look, if you want to use me to get at my brother-"

"-I want to use you in many ways, gorgeous. Your brother doesn't come into it."

The protagonist's mouth clicked shut. Heat pooled, treacherously, in the pit of his stomach and tightened his trousers at the many mental images that rushed him at that.

The villain looked a man very good at using things, after all.

It was a heavy thing, having a prophesied hero for a brother. Not that it was a thing worth talking about. Thinking about. Oh, you're the one free of the responsibility of saving everyone and everything? Why are you whining? There was just no point. Everything that he did was petty by sheer comparison. Inconsequential. Nothing.

Except that kissing the villain did not feel inconsequential. He never felt inconsequential when the villain's clever eyes raked across his body, like he was a fine wine to be tasted, a masterpiece to be savoured, ultimately worth something more than his connections. Interesting, alluring, in and of himself.

Ridiculous.

It was so clearly a trap. It was true he hadn't realised at first, but now...

The villain stepped closer, trailing his cool fingers along the stubborn curve of the protagonist's jaw.

"Does it shock you to know I find you infinitely more fascinating?" the villain murmured.

"It would, if I believed it."

"Your brother is a good heart wrapped in power. I'll give him that. You though..." The villain wet his lips, and it would have been convincing if the protagonist didn't know better. He had to know better. He totally did know better.

"Me?" he prompted, a little breathless. His heart raced.

"You're clever. You see the world for what it truly is. You can tweak its strings like you're playing an instrument. Your brother would do anything for you."

"So said the ransom note."

"So said anyone with a brain," the villain said. "You're worth anything. Everything."

"Enough to surrender? Enough to not kill my brother?"

"Enough to offer you the world, when he is inevitably dead and gone."

"Well, now it just sounds like you think I'm a traitor."

The villain laughed. Low, velvet. "I know you won't betray him. Don't get me wrong, there was a brief moment when I convinced myself otherwise. I told me wanting you was logical. A part of the plan."

The villain's hands dragged down, gripping his hips, drawing his flush.

"I have many plans. Still, I want you. I find reasons to have you in them all."

The protagonist swallowed. "Spoken like a true snake." Yet, like any sunk in the fangs of any true and great snake, he was charmed. Venom-addled.

He was inconsequential. It did not matter if he was charmed. It did not have to mean anything.

"You are powerful in your own right," the villain said. "You do not need fate to gild you. You shine enough on your own."

"Did you practice that in the mirror?"

The villain huffed and kissed him hard, backing him up against the shabby, age-spotted glass of the protagonist's quarters. He dipped hot hands exploring beneath the waist-band of the protagonist's trousers, and his hunger would have convinced another man. The way he clawed and clutched and caressed.

"I could train you," the vilain said. "Show you everything you're truly capable of. How much stronger you are than all of them."

"And wield me as a weapon against my blood?"

"Yours is a lot of potential to go waste."

"It's mine to waste, alas."

The villain bit him up for that, but even that was good. A claiming. A wanting. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had talked to him about something entirely unrelated to his brother or his band of chosen heroes. World-saviours. Fate-makers. And he...he what?

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

"You must want more," the villain said. "Brilliant thing like you. I know you do, or you would have pushed me away already."

Maybe, in the darkest parts of him, he did.

He drew the villain closer to him, kissed him soundly, with the profound gratitude of being alive, of mattering to someone or some thing even if it was probably manipulation.

"Maybe I just want you," he said, too honestly. "Screw destiny. Screw everything else."

"Preferably not everything else. Preferably just me."

The protagonist laughed and hated himself for it.

"Screw you," he said, and did.

When it was over, when it was all done, he lay there in the moonlight with the villain's limbs tangled around him. And he wanted - damningly he wanted nothing more. Just him. What did he care for mentors and destines and power, when there was him? His kisses, his interest when the protagonist talked, his utter seeming conviction that the protagonist was a man worth all the stars aligning.

Maybe that was what saved him. That lack of ambition. That driving hunger. That everything in him that wasn't his brother, dumb and glorious and passionate enough to actually fight.

Maybe that was ruined him, as he looked down at his perfect monster, and got up and walked away.

He would not be used.

However much he wanted to be.

[silverlunarella]

"You'll be given love

You'll be taken care of

You'll be given love

You have to trust it"

When a "quick sketch" turns into a full drawing session.

I am never drawing Astarion's scars by hand again. 💀

Pencils on paper and digital colors.

[creelarke]

"On AO3 there are about 6,400,000 fics as of now that are M/M and only about 1,200,000 fics for F/F. Fans should stop excluding female characters for the sake of male characters" Hold the fuck on???? People don't "exclude female characters for the sake of male characters". The ratio between M/M fics and F/F fics is literally because more people like M/M fics more than they do F/F and that's actually fine, it's not that deep. Because people can write whatever they like.

Yes, misogyny is a very real thing. But you're erasing the creditability of that word and are the ones doing harm to women if you scream misogyny every time you see something that slightly upsets you. Writers ONLY writing M/M doesn't automatically mean they're misogynists, without any other factors present that may or may not make them misogynists, the only fact that 'some writers ONLY write M/M' literally just means they like writing romance between two male characters and that's it.

This is fanfiction we're talking about, not a political debate or social justice protest. If the majority of people want to write about two male characters falling in love, then let them.

You don't get to shame a writer for "ONLY writing about M/M" because everybody has the rights to write whatever they like.

If you want more works for F/F, then write F/F yourself. No one's stopping you.

As a feminist myself, shaming writers for only writing M/M doesn't make you a feminist, it makes you an entitled dick.

(from this poll by @curiositysavesthecat nothing against the mods of the poll blog btw, they just run polls that were sent to them.)

[anaugust]

I am a bit late for my July With Elderly Zukka, but I want to keep up the tradion lol

Last year is here

And two years ago

It's also kinda a sequel to my other Zuko post. I really do love the idea of making more of these type of photos from Zuko's life.

Tbh my personal headcanon is that Zuko and Sokka got together when Zuko was a widower.

I'm not super proud of this lineart - I was exeprimenting with my brushes A LOT.

[amazingphil]

READING MY GAY FANFIC!

[lem0nshark-writes]

"Shores"

Daemon Targaryen x Male Reader

Type: fluff

Word count: 1052

Warnings: dragonback riding, trip down the memory lane, fluff, light teasing, reader is chaotic and so is Daemon

A/N: Request by a lovely reader on wattpad with dragonback riding + fluff for Daemon! 💕 I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it and I'm so sorry it took so long for me to update it! I hope you have an amazing day! 💕

With sun hanging low above the sea horizon but the sunset not yet in sight Daemon and you rode side by side on your dragons above the calm waters.

There was no mission happening, no where to be, the two of you just wanted to feel the wind in your hair and the sun on your skin, and let your beloved dragons stretch their wings and enjoy some fun in the warm skies.

You chuckled wholeheartedly as you and your dragon passed over Daemon and his, making a loop and getting back to his left where you previously rode side by side with him before speeding before him, daring and challenging him to a race.

Daemon smirked, never being the one to back down a challenge, and his dragon raced right behind you.

You turned back to look at him grinning, not too far ahead, before having your dragon take on an even faster pace, riding along the coast and towards the sunset.

He followed suit, not taking too long to finally catch up with you and then once caught the four of you settled for a calm cruise, dipping down closer to the surface.

You closed your eyes happily, content feeling settling in your chest. Feeling the wind pick up your hair, the sparkling salty droplets scattering across your face and the sun on your skin, and Daemon by your side, was there anything else you could ask for?

You opened your eyes, soft smile spread across your lips when your eyes fell on Daemon who was already looking at you, admiring your form.

You blushed slightly still smiling, "Enjoying the view?"

"Very much," he smirked, hands softly resting one on the other atop the reins of the saddle of his dragon.

Your grinned, dipping down further with your dragons to the water, so close that now the hind legs of your dragons touched the water surface, leaving a trail across the sea as they went.

Soon enough the warm light of the setting sun illuminated your figures, letting you two know it is time to return back to the shores.

And so you did, taking a sharp turn to your right the four of you set path towards the land, riding once again besides the shore till you found cozy enough spot to land on, getting off your dragons and with some kind and warm words and pets setting them off to lay and rest across the grassy hills above.

Light night breeze picked up your hairs as Daemon and you walked towards the little sheltered area by the bottom of the hill, your dragons resting above you.

You started the fire and settled beside its warm form, your head laying down in Daemon's lap as his long fingers played with the strands of your hair.

You looked up at your lover, smiling softly at him as he did so back, staring down at you lovingly.

His fingers moved from your hair to your cheek, thumb slowly going over the small scar on it, remembering how you got it - the same night the two of you first met, challenging a guy to a duel after starting a pub fight over the same guy calling him ugly, and you, well, being very drunk.

The whole scene made absolutely no sense to Daemon as the two of you never saw each other in life before, but it amused him so much that after everything had calmed down, and you handed the ass to that clown daring to insult him, Daemon approached you and the two of you spent the rest of the night talking and drinking together. It was one of the fondest memories to him and still to this day made him chuckle wholeheartedly whenever he remembered it.

You smiled up at him noticing the fond expression across his face, "What are you thinking about?"

"The night we first met," he smiled back, smile turning into a bit of a grin at it, "you really made a mess up there," he chuckled.

You chuckled too as you remembered, "Shhh I still don't remember half of that night, but I hear it was wilder than you speak of it," you grinned.

"Oh that's for certain, words cannot describe everything that went down," he laughed a little, "you lunatic."

You grinned and lifted yourself up just enough to kiss him on the lips, "you know you love me."

"That I do," he grins.

"And it couldn't possibly be worse than when we had to run from the guards-" you burst into a laughter remembering that one.

"You looked good in that old lady's dress I'm not going to lie-" he adds with a smirk, barely holding in a laugh.

"We nearly burned down a whole street and that's what you take of it??" you laugh.

"Hey it was a good fit for you," he laughed as well.

"Shut up," you grin.

"You love me," he smirks.

"That I do," you grin and cup his cheeks, pulling his face downwards so you can kiss him again. He gladly returns the kiss.

"And you looked marvelous in that blanket you wrapped yourself in, seriously what was that?" you chuckled at him, teasing his camouflage of choice.

"At this point thinking back I'm pretty sure it was some sort of a carpet, and an unwashed one judging by the smell of it-" he contorted remembering the stench of his chosen camouflage.

You burst into another laugh as he tried to stifle your mockery by starting to tickle you vigorously.

You tried to wiggle out of his hands and crawl away but he pulled you back by your hips and attacked even stronger. You squeamed and giggled underneath him, begging for mercy before he finally took pity upon you and stopped his vicious attack.

You breathed heavily as you tried to calm down, fingers wiping at the tears that formed at your eyes before lightly punching his chest, "you ass!" you grinned at him.

He grinned back, "You know you love me."

"That I do," you grinned again and kissed him once more as you settled back with your head in his lap and his fingers in your hair and the two of you continued your talk and trip down the memory lane deep into the night.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

He freezes. Doesn't know what the hell else to do. 

He can't picture it: Derek can't remember the last time somebody put their arms around him. 

Was it Laura?

Of course it was Laura. How could he forget that? Derek has gotten pretty good at blocking things out—a little too good, it seems.

She didn't tell him anything before leaving New York. Didn't say a fucking word, just up and vanished. Derek had woken up one morning and she was gone, because she'd known without a shadow of a doubt that Derek would've only followed her if she'd have said a single word to him.

Nobody ever granted Derek’s wishes, no matter who he prayed to. Those desperate pleas where he asked to go back and get a chance to fix things, they all went unheard.

Laura left to go back to the place they both wished still existed just as it had; a place they were wanted alive, not dead. It wasn't fair that it was the very same place they would be hunted down if they did return, like the rabid animals the Argent's presumed they were.

Leaving the way they did meant they hadn't gotten the chance to see if anything was left at the house. They couldn't even mark graves, and grieve properly. 

That same place also happened to be the place they'd been born, the place they'd grown up and called home.

Derek had never wanted Laura to face all of that alone.

The burnt down house. The nothing where there was once everything.

The thought still haunts him. One of so many. 

Beacon Hills is home—but it's the home Derek had helped raze to the ground with his selfishness and stupidity. Everything he and Laura had ever known, everyone they'd ever loved, it was all gone, now. Derek had taken those things away from his sister and hadn't even had the guts to tell her. Tell Laura they were all gone because of him, tell her that everything that had happened to their family, to them, was all his fault.

In the aftermath of the fire Laura hugged Derek, and had kept hugging him, over and over in those weeks and months and years that followed. She would pull him into her arms hold him tight, whenever she could sense it was all getting to be too much for him again.

Alpha.

Big sister.

But Laura only knew about some of the reasons why it sometimes felt like too much effort for Derek to keep on breathing.

He never told her about Kate.

And Derek, the fucking coward, he'd allowed Laura to hold him, feeling the flames of shame on his cheeks every time, hot as those that took the lives of his parents. His family. His pack. 

Now, he remembers that last time. 

“I'm going out.” 

Laura stood up, walked around the two mismatched armchairs and stopped him by throwing both her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and hugging him, scenting him. 

It always took him a moment to respond these days, but Derek hugged her back. 

“What's this for?”

“You. Because I know whomever's bed you end up in tonight, you won't be asking for one of these.”

Oh, fuck no. Derek couldn't handle that. Did she think he was out sleeping with people? Never again, not after…

He pushed his sister off him, gently; a stark contrast to the harsh words that followed. 

“Don't fucking coddle me. And fuck you, Laura—I don't sleep in anybody's bed but my own.” A single mattress on the floor of the lounge of their shitty one bedroom apartment. Derek had so many shameful memories, and crawling into his sister's bed every night for the first year after the fire was one of them. “Just—leave me alone.”

Laura was the one—the only—person Derek had left in the entire world, yet his guilt was constantly pushing her away. 

“Where do you go to, little brother? You might not be clinging to me anymore, night after night, nightmare after nightmare, but you're rarely in your own bed most mornings.”

She hadn't meant it as a dig. Derek knew that. She was his sister, and she loved him.

Maybe she thought he was making progress? Seeing people. Moving on.

Derek spent his nights waiting outside of dive bars, and hanging around in back alleys and dark places, desperate to find scumbags to taunt who were big enough and hard enough to at least attempt to kick the living shit out of him.

Derek hated being a werewolf, now. He wanted to get hurt and stay hurt.

“Just—out.”

Then Derek turned his back on Laura, leaving her to stand there and watch him walk away as he left her to go out looking for a fight, without looking back. 

That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive.

It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since. 

Now here he is—standing in his stupid big loft that he bought for his betas, yet another pack he managed to destroy—having given away more than he should, with skinny yet strong arms wrapping as far around his shoulders as they'll reach. 

Stiles.

“You don't have to hug back. But you can, if you want to. I won't tell,” the kid jokes. It's his way to connect, his connection to the world. A coping mechanism, Derek thinks.

He knows all about those.

“I…” he doesn't have the first fucking clue of how to handle this. Or how to admit he needs it—to himself, let alone somebody else. He doesn't know how to admit that he wants it. 

But this is Stiles. The one person in Derek's life who seems, for some unfathomable reason, to give a fuck about Derek. To care about him.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek lifts an arm and awkwardly rests a hand on Stiles's upper back, feels the muscles jump slightly under the kid's baggy clothes as he tentatively spreads his fingers and finds the back of Stiles's neck. 

Stiles's voice hitches just a touch as he says, “These can be on tap, you know. If you want them. Stilinski hugs are the best hugs, dude. Believe.”

And Derek finds he does believe. For the first time in forever, Derek believes there could be something good in his life again.

More confidently, now, he brings his other arm up to wrap around Stiles's waist and hugs Stiles tighter, properly, and allows himself to be hugged back.

Derek wonders how he has gone so long without this kind of closeness. Lived without this kindness.

He decides to let the 'dude' pass. Because maybe—maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, to be somebody's dude? 

Stiles's dude.

It's a fucking ridiculous moniker and yet Derek suddenly couldn't care less. 

“I think I'd like that,” he whispers into the forbidden place where Stiles's jaw meets long, pale neck. "Dude."

Derek can feel Stiles's smile as the kid squeezes him harder. And, ironically, Derek feels as if he can breathe again. 

.

for @greyhavenisback bc i want to hug you in person and can't <3 (unedited, forgive me!)

[acecroft]

No, Raylan, I'm gonna bet my life on you being the only friend I have left in this world.

[romana-after-dark]

But what IF Logan and Scott got reader drunk and brought her back to Logan’s room and Scott watched as Logan fucked her? (And Scott, being a loyal husband, does indeed simply watch and does not touch her) (ok maybe he shoots one off on her face)

Yes!!!!

I love this. I have so many dark ask and i love every single one of them so please be patient. Ill never just delete the ask, if I decide its not for me or I cant get inspo, ill answer it so yall know!

(forgive me I've never written scott and barely watched him but I love him)

Wanted It

Logan Howlett x reader x Scott Summers

Summary: Logan and Scott find a pretty girl at a hotel bar and decide to have some fun.

Warnings: dub con due to alcohol turned non con pillow princess reader, bi Logan bi Scott, ass eating, rough BJ, throat bulge <3, somno, dick suffication (everyone is fiiiiine)

760 words

You had wanted it. You didn't have to say it, Logan could tell by the look in your eyes as he watched you at the hotel bar.

You wanted him and Scott to fuck you. You were just too shy to say it.

That's okay. Logan kept sending you over drinks while him and Scott talked all the possibilities, all the things they could do with you as you loaded up on hard liquor.

"Could Eiffel tower, a classic."

"That requires a high five, I'm not a 21 year old frat boy."

"Fine, you fuck her, we hang her head off the bed and I fuck her throat."

But Logan had another idea. Scott was going to watch. You were his, Scott was his. Logan didn't share. That was fine by Scott, he was more a watcher than anything, loving being able to touch himself to a pretty sight.

When you were good and drunk, the bar tender did not seem at all suspicious of the two men who oh-so gentlemanly offered to help the young lady walk to her room. Arms over shoulders, they took you right to Logan and Scott's bed.

First thing first was your throat.

"mmmm, you're handsome..." You murmur with a sleepy voice as Logan maneuvers your body with ease.

Logan smiled. "yeah baby? You wanna suck my fat cock?"

You were too tired to answer, but as your head hung back off the bed you kept your mouth open, just not your eyes.

Wet and warm, Logan groaned as he slid into your mouth, sloppy fucking your throat like it was a pussy. Behind him, Scott tongue fucked his ass, face buried between his hairy cheeks. Between Scott and you, Logan was getting about ready to blow his load right down your throat but he kept himself from exploding yet. Sloppy, wet noises filled the room as you drooled and gagged on his cock.

When he looked down at you, he nearly came right there at the sight. "Shit, Scott." He tried to tell him, but Scott was too busy buried in his own heaven. "Oh for fucks sake..." Logan grumbles, reaching behind himself and grabbing a tuft of Scott's hair to pull him up. "Fucking look at this."

Resuming his actions, Scott watched in aw as the tip of Logan's cock bulged out your throat. You cough and gag when he gets too rough, but Logan holds you down. You're perfect, such a sweet little toy.

"Logan..." Scott whines, palming his large erection in his pants. "Logan please, I wanna touch her..."

"Not a fucking chance." Logan decides he's gonna fill your mouth now. Him and Scott got all night to play with you, and with his regenerative powers, he could get it up again in minutes.

You begin to resist him more, squirming underneath as he gets closer to his release but never eases up. Drool slides down your face and into your hair. Next to him, Scott is furious masturbating, jerking his cock to the scene before him. You gag hard, a pool of saliva and liquor splashing out of your mouth and feeling warm around his balls for crashing to the floor.

"Logan, Logan I- I'm gonna, oh fuck, oooh fuuucckkk" Scott groans as he cums all over your face and Logan's cock. You're struggling fully now, kicking and trying to push Logan away as your sounds of distress reverberate on his dick and he decides you have to breath at some point.

Logan flood your mouth, spilling inside as he continues to roughly fuck your face. His white hot cum spills out of your mouth and mixed with Scotts, looking so, so beautiful when he pulls up. Logan watches with a smile as you gasp for air, heavy breathing and dry heaving as you try to get normal again. Slowly, as Logan gets hard again, you settle back down the bed. Head up this time.

"Clean 'er up." Logan orders Scott as he touches himself hard again. He's so, so sensitive from his orgasm but it felt so, so good. Scott obeys, kneeling at the bed and happily kissing away at your face, licking away the cum and spit and make up inbetween kisses.

You hum, saying something about being tired.

"Oh ho ho," Logan chuckles, watching Scott with you. "We're just getting started, bub."

****************

Thanks for reading! Lots more Logan blurbs and fics here, including my dark series be quiet for some reason keeps not showing up in tags, but I think it's good stuff so Ima keep promoting it. Remember to reblog or leave a comment if you enjoyed it so i know what the people like!

also come join my tag list linked above for updates!

Sloppy bj fan? CHeck out Take It All with Miguel O hara or Against the Wall with Joel Miller

@del-ightfulling @my-secret-shame