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ceo-of-sloppy-men · 7 months

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From Your Lips [They] Drew The Hallelujah

Ship: Halsin/Zevlor/Tav Rating: Explicit Tags: POV Zevlor, Porn without plot, porn with feelings, threesome (M/M/Other), Mating Cycles, Nesting & Denning, oral sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, breeding kink Summary:

With the world saved, Zevlor, Halsin and Misphi have found their way into domestic life. Until one morning, Zevlor awakes early to a horrible inevitability crashing back into him. The dreaded return of mating cycles. Particularly his.

Zevlor awoke from his slumber abruptly and stared at the wall across from him, hazy in the early beginnings of dawn. For a moment, he lay there, undisturbed and trying to figure out why he’d woken up early. Just as he’d started questioning if the sun had gotten in his eyes, it hits him, and he squeezes his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed together. A pained whimper is shoved down his throat by a thick swallow as he curls tightly around himself. It’s as if he’s trapped in an ocean of discomfort, tossed violently between cramping in his lower stomach and pelvis and the straining need to pee. He tries to will his body up, to roll over and fall out of bed. Out of the puddle of sweat he’s currently stewing in, the sheets sticking to his skin and the pillow tossed somewhere by his feet. At some point in the night, Halsin must have rolled over and curled around Misphi as the solid warmth of his back pressed against Zevlor’s. The gentle, steady heat soothes one of the waves of pain crashing through his body, so he scooches back against it, seeking relief before suddenly realizing with horror what was happening.

Shame consumes him as he’s out of bed quickly, his shaking legs nearly collapsing on him. He darts down the hall to the bathroom, emptying his aching bladder to at least find some sort of relief. Shame continues to pulsate through him as he leans one arm on the wall over the toilet and moans in relief. Gods above, why did everything during this have to be pleasurable? Why can’t he just piss like a normal person instead of turning into a depraved incubus tied to an infernal contract by some perverse Devil? He squeezes his dick, giving it a little shake and scowling when it stays half-hard when he lets it go. With a ragged breath, he washes off his hands and looks at himself in the mirror. His hair is a mess; the braids Halsin had done yesterday caught around his horns and the rest stuck against his neck like he’d been caught in the rain. His treacherous tail curls upwards behind him, exposing his undercarriage, much to his chagrin. Sweat rolls down his skin as if he’s boiling alive – he feels like he’s boiling alive, trapped in Avernus once more. This is Avernus. This has always been Avernus to him. A shameful Hell he’d lock himself away in his room to endure until the fever passed him.

A pained gasp forces its way between his clenched teeth as he doubles over the sink, trying not to puke as his body cramps hard enough to make his head spin. He digs his claws into the porcelain, making a nasty screeching noise that he can at least focus on until the cramp fades and leaves him trembling against the floor. He barely pulls himself to his feet, stumbling into the shower Halsin and Misphi had worked tirelessly to install. One of Rolan’s inventions, apparently. He liked it. It was better than spending an hour in the bath, scrubbing his red skin until it was raw, as if hoping it would peel away and reveal a human or elven body underneath. He didn’t fixate on it for nearly as long when he wasn't left to stew in his own mind, not wanting to waste the water he’d poured for a ten-minute bath.

The water droplets roll down his shoulders and soak his already damp hair. It’s freezing, but he prefers it that way, letting it soothe the aching heat buried in his bones as he washes himself meticulously. He starts with his hair, then his shoulders, then his stomach, then his thighs, then his feet. All the while trying to ignore the disgusting, sticky mess between his legs. Slick mixed with precum (and maybe actual cum) smeared across his thighs. It was bad enough being a tiefling; the fact that his body put him through both a rut and heat just felt like an extra “Fuck You” from the Gods.

His needy dick jumps at his touch as he grazes his hands over it, and he huffs out a sigh. One hand wraps around the throbbing organ, pumping it quickly, trying to get this over with. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling the cramping in his body subside as he gives himself over to what needs to be done. He’s fairly certain nothing could wake his two lovers, especially not his quiet moans coming from the bathroom, but just to be safe, he bites his lip and takes measured breaths until he feels his dick twitching. His hips buck involuntarily against his hand, and even though he feels horribly empty, keeping his other hand firmly against the wall as not to fall over and hit his head, he finds relief. Cum splatters against the shower wall and all over his hand, smelling faintly of sulphur to him. It’s easy to clean it up, watching it run down the drain as he obsessively washes his hands before shutting the shower off completely. He towels off, clenching his fists together to not bury his face in Halsin or Misphi’s towel, not able to grapple with the shame. Their scents will only make this worse. They’ll only cloud his mind and force him to wake them from their peaceful slumber just to take care of him. He doesn’t need that. He doesn’t want that. He wants them to sleep peacefully and go about their days tomorrow without acknowledging his existence in the nesting room. Acknowledging him would mean acknowledging his condition and breaking the fragile trust that the trio have established, no matter how much they try to coax him into believing they love him unconditionally. Love can always be broken. He can always be discarded. Elturel taught him as much. Neither needs to know about his twisted biology; not now, not ever.

His resolve carries him back to their bedroom, and he cuts a clear path through the room to the nesting room. The entrance to the small room is furthest from the door, and it curls around the corner of the bedroom, creating a low, hidden space that can easily be mistaken for part of the wall if need be. He knows there are blankets already stacked in there, waiting for him to make a den or for Misphi to make a nest. He can use them, bury himself inside them and hide away in the corner of the room. Maybe they won’t hear him. Maybe they’ll assume he went out early this morning. He’d go to another room in the house to do this, but part of his cycle-addled mind craves being near them – at least for a brief period, even if it will be as distantly as possible. If they’re nearby, he’s at least safe. No one can touch him, no one can see him. They will make sure of it. He’s safest here.

For a moment, he hovers in the doorway, staring at the two figures on the bed. Halsin has his back to him, eclipsing Misphi, but he can still see their tail curled over his hip, flattened against his back. Zevlor can feel that tail against his back, intertwined with his own, their cool skin pressed against his. Oh, how he wished he could curl up with them, press them to his skin and feel the burning inferno drain from his body. Even Halsin’s soft arms wrapped around him, firmly holding him to his chest as he shushes him quietly, would be enough. He could endure the burning heat of Halsin’s body if it meant he’d hold him but for a moment.

Zevlor bites his tongue, stealing himself with a trembling inhale. His legs shake as he sneaks around the bed, tail bobbing high in the air as he makes his way to the corner of the room where the nest room entrance lies. It comes up to his chest, low to the floor, letting him tuck himself away as if tucking into a cave in the Hells. It feels comforting, like wrapping himself in home, and for a moment, he feels home. He feels like a young man back in Elturel, enduring his cycle tucked away in the Hellrider barracks. He had felt safe there, knowing his superiors would guard him with a gentle understanding shared amongst tieflings. Commander Victorious had always been nothing short of a mother figure for the lower-ranking tieflings, especially during their cycles. Arranging blankets, coming in to check on them and ensuring they had something to sustain themselves, posting guards whom she trusted outside their doors, even offering to help those who needed it, free of judgement. He missed her. If only for the mournful sympathy behind her smile when he’d told her of his cycle and the way she’d held him in her arms, letting him cry until he had nothing left.

A sniffle escapes him, and Zevlor blinks back into his own mind, realizing he’d crawled into the pile of blankets in the centre of the nesting space without thinking and wrapped them around himself. He does his best to unfurl himself as cramps batter his already broken body, trembling hands sorting through denning and nesting blankets. The denning ones are slowly plastered to walls, carefully woven together and through various hooks until he’s created a soft, insulated space. One he’s particularly proud of is the sudden urge to show Misphi and Halsin coursing through his body, almost forcing him out of the nesting room until he catches himself. With a light reprimand, he makes a sloppy nest in the corner for himself and curls up as far away from the entrance as possible. Thanks to how the nesting room curves, he knows anyone who pokes their head in will have to crane their neck to spot him here. Meaning if a dazed Halsin or Misphi comes to investigate the laboured breathing, they’ll find nothing. They’ll go right back to sleep and leave him where he belongs.

Zevlor hates it.

Even as he curls around the blankets, pulling them closer to his skin and clutching his tail in trembling hands, he loathes his isolation. Every fibre in his being wants to scream out and sob and frantically beg for them to wake up. Pain sears through him, making his legs ache, and his arms feel weak. He feels queasy and dizzy, even as he lies on his side, the pain overwhelming his mind. His claws dig into his forearms as he curls closer around himself, begging the universe to let this be the last of him. Give him the most undignified death; claim his soul here and now. Helm, please, show your mercy one last time and wretch him from his body! Bury him in his shame as sobs wrack his trembling body, his dick weakly pulsing against his stomach, begging for attention, while his slick hole clenches around nothing. Let not just shame bury him, but the crumbling earth reclaim his body. Let his body feed the worms and flowers. Let him return beauty to this world rather than continue to suffer through his cursed existence.

Much to his chagrin, the universe decides an ego death is far more fitting for his wretched existence. He feels calloused fingers brush his damp hair from his face with the utmost care, pulling a sob from his lips. “Zevlor?” a soft baritone voice whispers in the haze of the universe.

His trembling body curls in on itself further, trying to escape Halsin’s gaze. Stuttering breathes, attempt to quell his sobs as if that will help now – as if he ceases, Halsin will just go back to bed and leave him be. He had already forced him to climb into the nesting room, sleep probably still clouding his mind as he checked on him. Even still, his desperate body demands him to clutch Halsin’s wrist and beg for his company. Beg for him to curl up around him and fall back asleep here, with him clutched protectively in his arms. Shame courses through his veins, burning his skin further as he can do little but sob his embarrassment.

“Go away!” Zevlor barks with far more bite than he had attended.

“You poor thing,” Halsin sighs, smoothing his hands down Zevlor’s arms as if trying to distract him from the pain. It works – he hates how much it works and how much it speaks of simpler nights when Halsin would smooth his hands down his thighs as he straddled his lap. “I’m not going to leave you like this, I promise. I couldn’t possibly do that to you. You’re in pain; it’s okay to ask for help. This isn’t your fault.”

Zevlor chokes on a sob, continuing to weep against the blankets. Halsin strokes his back for a moment, waiting for a verbal response yet receiving none. Zevlor doesn’t have the strength left to respond, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have a clue what to say.

Realizing he won’t receive a verbal acknowledgment, Halsin continues: “I am going to go get you some water. I don’t know how long you’ve been here, but you must be dehydrated. Though, I hate to leave your den; you’ve done a wonderful job, and it makes me dread the thought of my departure, even though I know I am to return.”

Zevlor’s heart swells in his chest as Halsin kisses his forehead. A clumsy kiss of appreciation is pressed hastily to Halsin’s lips before he can pull away, and Halsin smiles against his mouth. Zevlor finally allows himself to look at the other man, taking in the caring, patient look permanently etched into his face and the way the crow's feet by his eyes scrunch together as he smiles down at him. Never has Halsin looked so endearing to him, patience seemingly etched into his very soul. He wants to reach out and pull him into the nest, to not let him go, to get up and follow after him when he leaves. He tries to do just that, forcing himself to sit up only for Halsin to shush him and coax him back down.

“I will be right back, I promise. Stay right here for me,” Halsin soothes him as if he knows that his absurd submission is uncharacteristic of a Tiefling’s rut. Another reason not to wake Misphi; they would know the moment they smelt him – let alone saw him – that something was different. That he was different.

Shame returns tenfold to Zevlor’s chest as Halsin slips out of the nesting room, leaving him alone once more. He can’t even bring himself to cry anymore, simply staring at the wall blankly. There’s nothing left in him to give as pain wracks his body, cramps returning with a vengeance to clench his guts and force him to stiffen in pain. He can’t even writhe without making it hurt more. In the darkness, all he can do is pray Halsin hurries. Whispering feverish prayers to the universe that he might find it in himself to curl up with Zevlor and soothe his aching body with just the whisper of his voice. Maybe he’ll be able to fall asleep again and sleep through all of this. Not that has ever worked… but it wasn’t as if he ever had a partner he felt comfortable enough around to ask. It might work. He might just be able to sleep through this horrid cycle.

A hushed conversation tears through his peaceful silence as he hears Halsin return to the bedroom. In his desperation for stimuli, he latches onto it, straining to hear everything he can.

“Halsin?” Misphi squeaks, sounding pained.

“Good morning, my heart, how are you feeling? I didn’t mean to wake you; you were supposed to sleep for at least a little longer,” Halsin whispers, the click of a glass being set down on the nightstand echoing in Zevlor’s ears.

“I couldn’t – it’s too much –“ Zevlor curls in on himself, guilt creeping into his bones. Of course. He hadn’t even thought of how his scent might wake them once it slathered itself across the room – “How’s he doing? Is he – can I -?”

“I’m sure he would revel in your company. He’s in the nesting room, where you should be too,” Halsin murmurs and Zevlor can picture him gesturing to the room. He’s torn between forcing himself up and exposing his belly in defeat and leaving it tightly shut, preserving the last of their trust.

“You know I can’t do that. Invading his den without being welcomed will only upset him,” Misphi sighs, their voice dripping with sorrow. Zevlor can practically taste how much they wish to join him, and a pang of guilt hammers through his heart.

“Well, I did to check on him, and he practically begged me to stay,” Halsin argues, much to Zevlor’s relief. Maybe he wouldn’t have to force himself up after all. Maybe he could just lay right here and pretend he can’t hear them. “Come on, you should be in there. We both should be. This is Zevlor we’re talking about; he’s not known for asking for what he needs.”

Misphi goes silent for a moment, and Zevlor hears shuffling in the room. His heart pounds in his chest, unsure what will happen. Will they just barge in? Will they go back to bed? Will they leave him here to suffer alone, like he so regretfully deserves? The bed creaks and Zevlor is certain that, somehow, they’ve convinced Halsin to go back to bed, and that is that. It’s okay. He… It’s better this way.

“Misphi –“ Halsin says softly, like a content sigh, in the same tone he uses after someone kisses him. He repeats himself a moment later, a little more forcefully – “Misphi! Breathe, breathe. I’ll gladly do this, but not here. What if we asked? I want to take you in your nest, where I know you’ll feel safe, for as many times as you require.”

“Gods, yes, that,” Misphi moans, and the bed creaks again.

Zevlor startles suddenly. He doesn’t need the sharp inhale to confirm his deduction. Oh, how foolish he had been to think that he was suffering alone. It was no secret amongst tieflings that cycles tended to trigger other cycles, especially between mates. He should have realized that his cycle would trigger Misphi’s heat, reawakening baser biology that had remained hidden since before Avernus. Now that they were out of danger, now that the Absolute had been defeated, it had only been a matter of time. Yet, he’d foolishly assumed that the Gods would grace them to go into heat when he was more present of mind when he could take care of them properly, instead of dealing with his own addled brain.

A knock on the wall startles him from his thoughts, followed swiftly by their melodic voice: “Zevlor? May we come in?”

“Yes,” he rasps, struggling to disentangle himself, desperate to meet them at the entrance. His determination to take care of them overrode all logical thought, allowing him to forget about his unfortunate situation, but for a moment.

He manages to meet them, sitting up partially, leaning against his hand as they tuck themselves inside (Halsin following Misphi in with a pitcher of water and three glasses for the shelf tucked into the wall of the nest). Misphi looks positively ragged, chest heaving, devoid of sleep clothes, blue skin flushed and hair even wilder than usual. Their tail curled upwards behind them is all he needs to confirm his suspicions.

“I should have checked on you,” Zevlor apologizes, flattening his ears.

“No, none of that,” Misphi scolds him, cupping his face with both their hands. “You did everything right. You built a lovely den and waited for me. That’s all you needed to do.”

He can’t bring himself to look at them, ears still downturned. “But I – I’m not even – I’m a…” Zevlor trails off, head hanging low to avoid finishing his sentence. Maybe if he didn’t say it, they wouldn’t notice?

“I know,” Misphi whispers, kissing his forehead. “I think I’ve always known, in some way. Your scent has always been a little sweeter than most tiefling men. I know why you didn’t tell me; it can’t be easy to start that conversation for even the most confident of our people. And you have never been known for confidence in respect to yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” he still insists as Halsin furrows his brow slightly.

“There is no need to apologize, my love,” Misphi soothes him, kissing his lips gently. “I love you, regardless of how your cycle presents. It just means we’re going to tire poor Halsin out faster.”

Zevlor manages a weak smile at the joke, and Misphi takes it in stride. With one last kiss, they pull away and turn to Halsin. He hands Zevlor a glass of water that he gratefully accepts as Misphi explains the situation.

“Most tieflings go through a heat or a rut, depending on their sex. However, some have been known to go through both, especially those closer to their demonic heritage. Zevlor is one such case. He needs a little extra love, that’s all,” Misphi explains calmly, despite their hands trembling, caught in the throughs of pre-heat.

“Oh,” Halsin mouths, blush and a mischievous grin creeping across his face. “No wonder… thank you for telling me.”

“I am sorry I didn’t say so myself. I was worried the two of you would distrust me if I suddenly disclosed I had been… omitting a detail about myself all this time,” Zevlor apologizes weakly, curling his knees to his chest as another cramp wracks his body.

Halsin takes the empty glass from him and sets it on the nearby shelf, tutting softly. “Do not apologize. We all have secrets we wish to keep. Just allow us to help you; it pains me to see you trembling in pain.”

Zevlor furrows his brow together, having expected the worst and rendered himself holy unprepared for this outcome. As if reading his mind, Misphi bundles him in their arms, coaxing him out of the corner and into Halsin’s. Halsin wraps him up tightly, hands wrapped around his hips with his face buried in the crook of his neck. He feels the comforting rise and fall of Halsin’s chest against his back. Slowly, Zevlor feels Halsin’s hands leave his hips and drift lower, giving him plenty of time to push him away. Instead, he keens, arching into his touch when his calloused hands brush against his dripping prick. A deep chuckle rumbles against his back as Misphi looks up from where they were carefully arranging blankets. Obsidian eyes watch as Halsin pumps his needy dick, Zevlor’s hips bucking forwards until Halsin pins him back with one finger crooked inside his dripping hole. He squirms and whines, melting against Halsin as he works him to a cross-eyed climax.

“Feel better?” Halsin hums against his neck, nipping at his skin.

“I don’t deserve you,” Zevlor sighs, leaning fully against him.

“Enough of that. You deserve everything I give you. Whether it is my kisses or the bruises, I leave behind your hips as I fuck you like a bitch in heat until my cum is dripping down your thighs,” Halsin growls in his ear, pushing another finger into his slick hole.

Zevlor whines and rocks his hips against Halsin’s hand, feeling the other man chuckle behind him.

“I can’t be sure, but I think he just said ‘yes, please,’” Misphi purrs, kneeling in front of Zevlor. They ghost their claws up his stomach, rolling his demonic ridges between their fingers.

“Oh? Can you say it a little louder then? If you ask nicely, I might even let you breed Misphi. Wouldn’t you like that? To see them grow plump with your cubs… I bet you can smell it, too; how much they want you to press them into their nest and fuck them. I can smell their slick thighs from here, begging you to take them. All you have to do is ask,” Halsin encourages him, crooking his fingers inside him and pressing against Zevlor’s prostate. Zevlor groans, arching against his hand – somehow, Halsin never fails to find it on the first try. He toys with it, fucking his fingers against it as Zevlor lurches closer and closer to climax, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Just say please a little louder, Zevlor. Tell us what you want us to do. Beg us to make you ours,” Misphi croons, wrapping their hand around his tail and pumping it loosely.

That’s enough to force him to hit his breaking point. Damn them for knowing him too well – for being able to find a way around his inability to put himself first. Putting himself first never sounded so damn good in his entire life. “Please! Fuck – oh Hells – Fuck me, please, please! I can’t – I’m going to cum; I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Zevlor begs, whining and sobbing as he grinds against Halsin’s fingers.

“That’s it, such a good boy,” Halsin purrs, pulling his fingers from him, leaving him desperately clenching on air. Climax slips from him immediately, and he screws his eyes shut with a whimper. He had been so close. “Ssh… don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. You just have to help me because Misphi looks like they’re hanging on by a thread. Don’t you want to be a good mate and help them? Don’t they deserve to feel good?”

Halsin's words spur him forward, out of his lap, to inspect the nest Misphi had carefully constructed around them. He tugs lightly at blankets, fluffs pillows and rubs his face against the strong, woven blanket walls. His internal demon purrs contently, turning toward Misphi, who’s watching him with nervous tension, fingers knitted together. He pounces on them, pushing them down to the nest, interlocking his tail with theirs to pull it out of the way. They squeal with delight as he pins their legs to their chest, marvelling at the way his flaming eyes reflect in the slick pooled between their thighs. A possessive growl escapes him as he captures their lips in a fiery kiss, testing the head of his prick lightly against them.

When he slips in easily, hearing them moan against his lips, he starts to sloppily thrust, rubbing their clit with his free hand (supporting his weight with the other one). He bends down to his elbow, bowing over them and letting the ridges on his crotch and chest provide extra friction to their clitoris and nipples, pinning them together. They moan his name, claws digging into his back to pull him closer. Their tail tenses around his, gently wriggling, stimulating the underside and prompting him to do the same, washing them both in waves of pleasure. He feels them clench around him, cumming as they pull him closer, still to sink their teeth into his neck. He groans, hips stuttering before pushing flush with theirs, pumping them with thick spurts of cum. They milk his dick as if trying to take his very soul; he’d gladly hand it over to them if they’d ask.

Zevlor moves to roll off of them afterwards, yet they hold him firm, legs wrapped around his hips and hands tangled in his hair. So he concedes, nuzzling their neck and revelling in the feeling of lazily rolling his hips against theirs, his semi-hard prick sliding through their slick core. Zevlor can imagine no better place than here, and by the way Misphi is purring; they can’t either. He purrs loud enough to match them, grinding his ridges against their clit. They tighten their legs around his hips, grinding against him until they spasm around his semi-hard dick and melt with a sigh. He purrs contently, rolling to the side yet keeping them closer to him, satisfied he can bring his mate such pleasure. Neither even realizes Halsin’s missing until their heads clear for a brief respite, allowing them to look around the nest. It’s been pulled apart by the rough slam of Zevlor’s hips sliding Misphi across the blankets, so they tuck in the displaced ones as they share a look of confusion.

Misphi’s just about to call out for Halsin when his head pokes back into the nesting area with a delicious aroma that makes Zevlor’s stomach flip-flop a little. “Ah, so you are done. I made breakfast – we’ll need our strength, and I figured it would be rude to make it solely for myself.”

“Halsin, do you want your dick sucked?” Misphi asks bluntly, making him nearly drop the omelette he was passing to them.

“Pardon?” he coughs, flustering despite his numerous sexual escapades with the two of them.

“You made me an omelette, and I really, really want to feel your cum drip down my chin as you tangle your hands in my hair, pulling me flush with your hips,” Misphi continues, cunt squeezing around Zevlor’s prick, drawing a whimper out of the other man.

“Eat your breakfast first. Then we will see about fulfilling all your wildest dreams, dear one,” Halsin chuckles, passing Zevlor his omelette before climbing inside the nesting room. “Perhaps, with Zevlor willing, we can stretch your pretty little cunt out to accommodate us both. I bet you would look amazing with both of our dicks buried inside of you, filling your greedy cunt with our seed.”

Zevlor nearly choked on his omelette as he scarfed it down. The plate was quickly tossed outside the nest by Halsin, who leant over the edge in order to do so. Drool slicked Zevlor’s chin as he watched the other man bend over to carefully set the plates out of harm’s way. In a swift, fluid move, the two of them moved on him, Misphi laying between Zevlor’s legs on their back, lips wrapped around the head of his dick, and Zevlor knelt behind Halsin, rutting his hips against his rear, finding it slick and prepared. He thrust in quickly, pulling a baritone moan from Halsin as his pace quickly became feverish and needy.

“Oak father, preserve me,” Halsin groans, leaning against his forearms. His hips rut forward into Misphi's mouth as Zevlor digs his claws into his hips to keep him in place.

“Mine, mine, all mine,” Zevlor growled behind him, chasing after the burning fire coiling around his groin.

“Yes, all yours – oh Gods,” Halsin groans, whimpering after a particularly rough thrust.

Zevlor takes careful note of his reaction, repeating the thrust and watching Halsin jerk in his hands. Grinning proudly, he repeats the motion over and over again, striking Halsin’s prostate as he watches the other man dissolve into a puddle on the floor. He knows he won’t last long and continues to abuse his prostate because of it, watching him become undone as he nips and bites at his neck. Halsin’s panting hard, mouth hanging wide open as he desperately grinds against Misphi’s mouth. Zevlor can feel them grab his tail with their own and press it against their dripping core. He rolls it carefully and pushes it inside, thrusting it in and out, feeling Halsin jerk at the moan reverberating around his dick. Pride swells in him as he listens to his pleased partners. Even if he feels horribly empty. He’ll survive – he can fuck Halsin, and then maybe Halsin will return the favour.

As if Misphi can sense his need, their tail presses against his dripping hole. He gasps as it presses inside him, fucking him the same way he’s fucking them. He spasms and twitches, hips pulling flush with Halsin’s in short, feverish thrusts that press against his prostate. Halsin comes with a shout as Zevlor pumps him full of his cum, rutting his hips desperately against it, trying to push his release back inside him as he feels his cum drip down their thighs. He moves to pull his tail away from Misphi, only for them to hold it in place with two hands, grinding themself against it. He can feel them spasm around his tail, walls fluttering, so close to climax.

Quickly, he shifts off of Halsin and mounts them, replacing his tail with his dick. They grasp his shoulders tightly, pulling him closer as he ruts into them, feeling the dried cum on their thighs. His damp tail rubs against their clit, letting them buck against it as he pumps into them. He cums much quicker as they milk him for all he’s worth, groaning as he buries his face in their neck. They pant heavily underneath him, coming down from their own release.

As they rest, Halsin makes his way back into the nesting room and lifts them up, slipping behind Misphi. He lets them rest their head against his chest as he hooks their legs over his thighs. Slowly he moves his thighs apart, shushing them when they mewl and spreading them open for Zevlor. A feral growl escapes him – one that he definitely won’t be proud of when he regains control of himself – and buries his face between their legs. His dick twitches to life, seemingly unsatisfied, as they moan and whimper, unable to grind their hips against his face as Halsin keeps them still.

“Look at him, dear heart. Tail arched for you, worshipping you at your altar. The picture of a devoted paladin,” Halsin purrs, making Zevlor’s dick twitch back to attention. He’s tracing his lips along Misphi’s neck, toying with their nipples. “What do you say? Do you think he deserves to have you again? Do you think he deserves to share you?”

“Gods – yes - fuck,” Misphi pleads, their usual eloquence leaving them.

“You heard our love, Zevlor. Don’t want to disappoint them now, do we?” Halsin says, pulling Zevlor from between Misphi’s legs with his thumb and forefinger guiding his chin.

Looking up at him, Zevlor sees how wrecked Halsin is. His pupils are blown, his hair is a mess, and there’s a starving look in his eyes as if he wants to devour him whole. Zevlor would let him in a heartbeat, revelling in the pain each time his teeth sank into his skin. He obediently gets to his knees before Misphi, marvelling at their slick and cum drenched hole. He has always hated this part, the one where his refractory period vanished, and the only thing that clouded his mind was the need to breed until he passed out. Yet, right now, he revelled in it. Taking Halsin’s thick cock in his hand, coaxing it back to hardness thanks to the druid’s insane refractory period, Zevlor pushes the tip inside of Misphi. They gasp and mewl in Halsin’s arms, sinking themself as low as Halsin will allow them. Then, Zevlor curiously pushes the head of his cock against Misphi’s tightness, amazed when it slowly sinks into them.

“Hells, how are you – oh, Helm, you feel so good,” Zevlor whimpers, resting his forehead against Misphi’s as he slowly sinks into them. He feels their tail wind behind him, pressing against his dripping hole again, and he lets it enter him, going cross-eyed.

Halsin holds Misphi steady as Zevlor fucks into them, thrusting his own hips up from underneath them. Their dicks rub against each other, adding to the wet sensation of cum and slick sloppily sloshing out of Misphi as they fuck into her. Zevlor manages to lift his head from Misphi, letting Halsin pull him into an open-mouthed kiss, neither claiming dominance over the other as Misphi pulls them closer, one arm around Halsin’s shoulders, the other digging claws into Zevlor’s tail to drag him forward. Zevlor rubs their clit, rutting his hips against their pelvis with each thrust to add to the stimulation. They gasp and writhe between them, cumming hard around them, yet refusing to let the two of them go. They fuck Misphi through their overstimulation, chasing after their own climaxes as Misphi clenches down around their dicks, desperately milking them. When they finally cum, Zevlor can feel Misphi teetering on the edge again, rubbing their clit desperately for them to bring them to completion as well.

Misphi bats his hand away, pushing him down to his back and straddling his face. His hands grasp their thighs as he wraps his lips around their vulva greedily. His nose is buried in their musty, scratchy hair, and he can’t recall anywhere he’d rather be. This is his home, between their thighs, feeling them clench and pulse around his fingers as they grip his horns, ridding his face. He’s distantly aware of Halsin in the corner, panting hard to recover from the shockwaves of climax as Zevlor tastes their releases on his tongue. He swallows greedily, letting cum and slick dribble down his chin as his hips buck into the air. Misphi’s back arches, rolling their hips against his face, yet they continue to hold him against their crotch, grinding against him as if they intend to break his jaw. He’d gladly let them, trapped between their thighs. Damn being tied to a bed, he’d gladly stay still for them under the promise of tasting them release over and over again.

His bliss is broken by the cord in his gut snapping, the cramping returning with a vengeance when his body realizes he’s neglecting himself. His hips buck into the air, chasing any sort of release as Misphi continues to grind against his face, keeping him firmly in place. Tears well up in the corners of his eyes as he desperately tries to fight his own urges to stay between their legs for just a little longer. They taste so sweet on his tongue, a sweetness he's not yet ready to be pulled away from yet. He swallows them down, hollowing his cheeks and trying to focus on the scoops of his forked tongue – anything to make the pain stop. Yet it continues to pulse through his body until he’s almost sobbing. Only then does he pull away long enough to plead with Misphi.

“More, need more – please, oh Helm, please, I need more,” Zevlor begs, tears welled in his eyes as he ruts uselessly into the air. His hole clenches on air as he desperately tries to find release. He can feel the cramping coil in his gut again, starting to make his bones ache as he squeezes his eyes together.

“Oh, you poor sweet thing, I’m sorry,” Misphi murmurs, mind hazy with release as they run their fingers through his hair. “I didn’t – it’s probably worse for you, isn’t it? I didn’t even remember… Sssh, Zev’, it’s okay sweetheart; take a deep breath for me –“ he does as he’s told, letting his breath wobble in his lungs – “There, in and out, that’s it. I’m so sorry, honey.”

He whimpers as they kiss down his chest, moving to straddle his hips instead. He wants to pull them back up to his face, wants to taste them on his tongue again, yet a debauched noise betrays him, ripping from his chest the moment they rub their wet cunt against his dick. He arches off the nest as they sink down on his neglected dick, rolling their hips as they rub their clit, staring down at him like a radiant god. He sees them eclipsed a moment later, Halsin’s shadow looming behind them as he buries his face in their neck.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Halsin purrs, spreading Zevlor’s legs with calloused hands digging into his inner thighs. Zevlor feels the head of his cock bump against his neglected hole, and he gasps.

“Yes – please, please, fuck me! Breed me!” Zevlor sobs, rutting his hips backward.

Halsin shushes him, rubbing his thighs firmly as he sinks into him. “Calm down, my heart, there’s no need to beg for me. We’ll take care of you. You’ll make it through this, I promise.”

Zevlor can’t stop the tears from finally breaking free of his control, streaming down his face as Halsin gently fucks into him. He gasps and sobs, gripping the sheets in ecstasy as Misphi and Halsin work in tandem to steal his very soul. He’s distantly aware that he’s chanting a mantra of ‘thank you’s and ‘yes’s but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed. They roll off his tongue as he revels in the stretch of Halsin’s cock in his ass. He’s always felt so big, so sturdy, so grounding, as if trying to reignite his very existence with each steady thrust. Misphi drags their claws down his chest, making him gasp and plead, feeling them reverently kiss each scar as tears continue to roll down his cheeks. They lean forward, kissing him passionately, and he allows their forked tongue to claim victory over his, submitting to them easily as they take care of them.

He's not quite sure when he comes – somewhere between now and forever, trapped within the bosom of time herself – but when he does, it is blinding. His vision swims and blanks for a moment as if his very soul is ripped from his pathetic existence before being shoved back into his chest so he may feel the rapturous orgasm tearing through his body like hellfire. Misphi and Halsin aren’t far behind him, clenching around his dick and soothing the cramps from inside him with hot cum. He feels the splatter of Misphi’s climax against his chest and feels them fall heavily into his arms. He catches them clumsily, feeling exhaustion rumble through his bones as well. They purr loudly against his chest, only growing louder when he follows suit.

In his sleepy state, Zevlor barely registers Halsin stumbling out of the nest and returning with a wet cloth. He doesn’t realize when Halsin leaves again, just when he finally returns, pulling both of them into his arms. He presses himself against Zevlor’s back, strong arms wrapped around both of them to pull Misphi closer. Blankets are pulled around them, cocooning them in the dimly lit nesting room as sleep reclaims their existence once more. Zevlor drifts off contently, focused on the sturdy, sure heartbeats pressed against his skin, finding a moment of peace within this hellish curse.

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