lessons 2

[xax]

i finished the amarant-gets-fucked-by-orcs fic. hooray.

this is actually a 'sequel' to "lessons", which was a very self-indulgent pwp in which amarant coral from final fantasy ix gets brutally throatfucked by a rat guy w/ a giant dick. this very much follows in the same spirit, only now it is two not!orcs and there's uh let's go w/ medically unsound sex feat. prolapsed guts.

so part of the deal w/ this is like... i feel like this is definitely one of my stories that hits the whole, the ambiguity of consent thing. here's the summary: amarant is going after some bounties. there's a pair of bandit twins in town and he ambushes one of them when he's out and beats him up and ties him up w/ the intent to come back later when he's also got the other one tied up so he can turn in the bounties together (this doesn't make practical sense at all but just roll with it okay). then he goes after the other one who's hiding out in their, like, crummy rented room. and the other one is like "oh hey hot guy wanna fuck", like, completely not realizing that amarant is a bounty hunter after his head (metaphorically. you get more money if yr bounties are alive, so...). and amarant's like, well, i got time to blow this guy and then tie him up afterwards.

except then halfway through the other bandit barges in the door b/c he's gotten free ahead of schedule, and amarant is like, god damn it i was just about to get fucked cmon, and basically through a kind of confused coordination him and the bandit fucking him manage to convince the first one to have a threesome without anyone ever cluing in the bandit fucking amarant, so, hey, the guy you're fucking is kind of after yr bounty. and so there's this threesome where one of the bandits is straight-up like, you beat me up and i wanna take you down a peg (w/ sex), and amarant is like "yeah cmon dude hit me harder i'm into that shit".

and it's like uh so. is that okay?? is that an okay thing to do?

like i remember reading this thing (i've linked it before, it's jenna moran's gothic horror rpg supplement) that points out a lot of the time interesting narrative developments are ambiguous -- a story that very clearly draws lines between Good Things Telegraphed By The Narrative and Bad Things Telegraphed By The Narrative can come off as flat and obvious, and that there's an aspect of a story (or rpg :V) that's like a puzzle, or at least like a question, asking "so hey what's up with this thing?"

and i feel like that's kind of my attitude re: consent in fiction, like. rape porn is tedious and creepy and frequently hackneyed, but a lot of the, like... established-relationship happy friendly politically conscious sex can be equally boring, if not equally creepy. since actually people are messy and have a lot of moving parts.

i mean all that being said the next thing i'm gonna write is gonna be like, adolescent lycanthrope pt 5 which will mostly be about the narrator playfully ribbing his bf about his cuckolding fetish ("please stop saying 'cuck'" shea says, plaintively, but he's smiling involuntarily when he says it, etc) and people actually talking and thinking their way through their relationship issues instead of having ill thought out threesomes w/ people who want to seriously hurt and/or imprison them.

anyway that's the thing i wrote, yup.

oh yeah and also amarant gets fisted until his guts fall out, and then fisted some more. stuffed full of come and then punched in the gut to make him vomit it all up. it's really gratuitous. the story is like 17k words and of that maybe 16k is sex? it's really pornographic, wow.

---

Every inch of Treno bristled with bounty hunters, and all of them went after each others' bounties. All it really took was a good bribe to get most of them off your back, but there were a few that stood out on the bounty board regardless.

His, for one, a scowling sketch with DEAD OR ALIVE beneath it. But there were some others. He already knew about them: bandit brothers, mostly quartered in Alexandria, fled after their latest robbery. Fled to Treno, it turned out. Their bounty said petty larceny, grand larceny, and crimes against the crown of Alexandria, which was a pretty decent rap sheet, though not as expansive as Amarant's.

The thing about these two bandit brothers was that no one could even agree what they were: mutant imps, maybe, or some kind of mountain goblin. They looked a lot like Vices, except Vices were lean and willowy, and these two were brutally muscled. That and they didn't have the taloned feet. Ogres was what they most looked like: green-blue skin, purple-black hair, brilliant yellow eyes, except ogres were shrimpy things, five feet tall if they were lucky, and these two towered over everybody else -- Amarant including, surprisingly. He wasn't used to having to look up at people. Gigases, maybe.

The point being, it was hard for them to keep a low profile. So when they came into town, he knew fast, which was what lead to him tailing Auver, the older of the two, down a narrow alleyway in the old dockside district. Who knew -- or cared -- what he was up there for; one alley was good as any other for ambushes as far as Amarant was concerned; Amarant dropped down from the eaves when Auver was halfway through, making sure to land hard on the flagstones, loud enough to Auver to hear.

Auver whirled around, like expected, and when he caught sight of Amarant his lips split in a grin, revealing a mess of sharp teeth. He swaggered forward: "You after the bounty, huh?" He twisted his neck, joints cracking, and then like he hadn't made enough of a point he cracked his knuckles too. It was all a bit too obvious. "You ain't the first one, tonight even." He crooked a finger, gesturing Amarant closer: "So let's see you try."

Amarant snorted. He'd been hoping for a bit of a chase, but cutting right to the meat worked just as well.

Auver wore a mess of rings across his hand: brass knuckles in all but name, forming an interlocking ridge of metal when he clenched his fist. It would hurt to get hit by that, so Amarant didn't. Really, what happened was that Amarant beat the tar out of him, easy. Auver was real big, and fast, but he was dumb as a box of rocks. Amarant had gotten hit once, a glancing blow across his ribs that wasn't even gonna bruise. It was a let-down, was what it was.

Maybe his partner in crime was going to be a better fight.

During the fight he'd hooked the chain of his claws around Auver's forearm and then twisted, pinning one arm to his back, and then caught the other in the same swing, tying both arms together behind his back. Auver was struggling, of course, but it was a solid chain. But it was a chain Amarant liked, which was why he'd brought rope too, and bound him up from wrist to elbow.

"Here's how it's gonna go," Amarant said, cramming Auver's belt into his mouth and tying it around the back of his head as an impromptu gag; the yelling was getting annoying, and would probably get somebody's attention eventually. "Your bounty's only worth it with your little partner in crime too. So you're just gonna sit pretty here, and I'm gonna go get him, and then I'm gonna drag both your sorry asses down to the bounty office."

Auver bellowed, jaw working like he was trying to bite through the leather -- he'd do it eventually, probably; those were some sharp teeth -- and yelled out a few words that, even muffed, were clear enough to make out the insult.

Amarant bumped him on the cheek, a condescending little pat. "Don't try too hard to get free, I'd hate to have to kick your ass all up and down the street again."

He was going for a clean catch; that was the whole point of getting them when they were apart, but he was itching for a fight now. A good one. He hoped Yahn -- the younger one -- was a bit faster on the uptake than his brother; Amarant wanted a brawl.

They'd gone to ground in a shitty flophouse, in the mess of warehouses and alleys that made up lowertown. He'd caught them through a window earlier, then tailed Auver when he'd left. Third floor. Yahn was asleep on the bed, just a big lump with a tassel of off-white sheet stretched over his hips. The window to the room was probably locked, and anyway that'd wake him up, so Amarant clamored over to the balcony adjoining the hallway and went in that way. It wasn't hard to match up the windows to the doors on the inside, and though the door was locked it was the easiest thing to pop it. He opened the door smoothly, so it didn't creak, and stepped inside: just about what he'd expected from a flophouse like this. One room, exterior wall bare boards, the rest plaster; trunk in one corner, dresser in another, single bed next to it.

And there was Yahn lolling on the bed. Naked, and with only the corner of a stained off-white sheet draped over his brawny thighs, cock a immense-looking bulge hanging between, tenting the fabric to the very edge. And he wasn't as asleep as he'd looked: he was watching as Amarant opened the door. Not warily: he grinned at Amarant and sprawled back, huge hands pillowed behind his head to show off the definition of his chest, cock lurching under the sheet.

"Well look at you," Yahn said, eying him up and down. "You're a damn sight better-looking than the rest of the whores they got around here."

Amarant grinned back, looking forward to knocking a few teeth out of his smile. Not so quick on the uptake after all. Except Yahn shifted, lowering one hand to tug the sheet aside, and his cock was even bigger than that lump had made it seem.

He was limp, cock propped up over a pair of gargantuan balls, lolling across his thighs nearly to the back of his knee. His cock stirred as Amarant stared, flesh thickening. The skin of his sac contracted and relaxed, balls churning; each one was like a fat melon, so big that it was hard to see them as part of his body and not some kind of thick, fleshy offshoot. Too big to fit in one hand. Amarant's palms tingled at the thought: digging his hands under their immense weight, balls balanced on his palms, supple flesh damp and hot, dimpling from the pressure it would take to lift them. Feeling the twitch and stretch as his cock stiffened and his balls pulled taut. Yahn's shaft was dark, green two shades darker than the rest of his skin, and his hooded foreskin peeked open at the tip, showing a dot of his cockhead, ruddy brown. Not nearly as long as Dan's; more proportional to his body than the club on Dan's scrawny frame, but soft it was nearly as thick as Dan had been hard.

And fuck, it'd been a while. After that night -- there'd been an itch in him he needed to get scratched, and Dan had up and fled town, so he'd been jerking himself practically raw thinking about choking on his cock, nothing else. No other fantasies and no other sex.

He had plenty of time to let this idiot fuck him and then tie him up before Auver managed to get free. Fucking was just as good as a fight, maybe better if whoever he was fucking was rough enough.

He sauntered over, tugging his belt open as he went, knees hitting the floor along with the clunk of his buckle. Yahn's thigh was hot under his hand, cock too fat to fit in one hand. The flesh was rubbery, thick, heavy in his hand: Yahn's heartbeat pulsed through it, throbbing, swelling even thicker with each beat. Yahn swung his legs over the side, inching closer, letting Amarant settle right between them.

He'd never seen somebody else's limp cock up close. Dan had been hard every time by the time he got his hands on it, and he'd been sheathed beside. With Yahn it was all hanging out there, flesh soft and sweat-damp, spongy, flexible in his hands. He dropped his head, sucking the foreskin-sheathed tip into his mouth, moaning at the salt-skin taste. This was what he'd been itching for, a fat cock in his mouth, heartbeat on his tongue.

Yahn didn't moan; he let out a low sigh, eager, and his hands came down on Amarant's shoulders: "You get right to work, huh," he said, thick fingers stroking the side of his head, tracing the line of his skull back behind his ears, hidden under his dreads, slowly cupping his head as Amarant lapped across his cockhead, easing him forward.

Amarant wanted to bat his hand away and tell him to shut the fuck up, but he also didn't want to blow his cover, such that it was. He opened wider instead, rubbery cockhead stretching his jaw as it thickened, and tried sucking more of his shaft into his mouth. His cock was half-hard, flexible, and it bent easily when it hit the back of his mouth. Amarant took a final breath, ready for more; his cock was hard in his pants, but he had no time for that with both hands wrapped over Yahn's thighs, fingers digging into his hips. He swallowed, cockhead sinking into his throat, a fat stopper blocking his breath.

Yahn groaned, fingers on the back of his head, pulling him forward -- he plunged the rest of his cock down Amarant's throat, until he was pressed against Yahn's crotch, nose flattened against the muscled arch of his pelvis, buried in his pubes, nostrils flaring, his instinctive attempt at breath a sharp kick in his chest, suction dragging against Yahn's cock, tongue digging against the underside.

Amarant swallowed, over and over; it was that or gag on the thickening length. Each squeeze found it less rubbery, harder, a solid plug lodged in his throat. Yahn's heartbeat thudded in his throat, cock swelling and stretching, spongy flesh filling out sheathed deep down Amarant's throat. Amarant groaned, rumbling even as his vision started to grey, flashing sparks in the corners of his eyes. Yahn held him there for a long moment, cradling hands tugging him minutely back and forth, drool spilling from his mouth down Yahn's balls, the spasms of his throat becoming stronger and stronger, chest heaving as his throat rebelled, gurgling as he coughed up thick phlegm around Yahn's cock, splattering across his thighs, eyes watering, nose running.

Yahn let him up, Amarant still heaving as his throat disgorged his cock, a mess of spit and pre erupting from his mouth and spilling down Yahn's cock, forming a runny mess. The cockhead alone filled his mouth, too big to slip past his teeth: he cradled the head with his tongue for a fraction of a second, puffs of breath spraying spittle down his shaft, before his lips bowed around the ridge of his cockhead and he spit it out, tongue and lips shoving as the fat cockhead lurched from his mouth with a hollow sucking noise, another slurry of fluid gushing over his lips and drenching their skin.

Amarant slurped, coughing wetly, thick cords of spit hanging between them, throat clogged, staring down at the warped floorboards.

"Good," Yahn said, hand still on Amarant's dreads, tugging his head forward so he could slap his cock across his face, wet heat across his forehead, dribbling into his hair. "Now get your pretty mouth back on it."

Amarant coughed again, spat on the floor, dragged in a rasping breath and swung his head back up, face-to-face with Yahn's erect cock. It was huge: not quite as long as Dan's, but so much fatter; easily fist-sized. His cockhead was enormous, flared rim a smoothly-curving band of gristly flesh jutting two fingerwidths out from his shaft, and the shaft itself was gnarled just beneath the tip, a second bulge beneath, flesh there striated and lumpy. There was a single immense vein running up the side, Yahn's throbbing heartbeat sending it shuddering, a fan of lesser veins rising to the surface with each beat, all branching off from the thick squiggle.

His foreskin only drew back halfway, too tight to fit over the ridge of his cockhead, and his enormous cockslit spanned the entire space of the revealed tip. The flesh around the tip was rumpled and raised, flushed almost purple; it pulsed, lips spreading into a fat oval as a thick bead of pre poured out, wobbling, and rolled down, catching on the rim of his foreskin as a bottom-heavy orb, big as a marble, off-white threads stirring in the center.

Amarant sunk forward, mouth open, tongue out, and swiped up the bead of precome. A shock of salt-thick taste on his tongue, lips pressed against the rim of his foreskin, flesh thick and soft sheathing the iron-hard core. Pressed against it, it was hard to believe he'd just had it in his mouth -- or maybe it'd gotten even bigger since he spat it out. He had to lean to the side, open wide, stretch his lips over the left side, slide the rest in, teeth dragging along the glans as he tried to fit it back into his mouth. It pulsed, throb nearly wrenching his jaw from his socket, and spat a heavier burst of pre in the back of his throat; nothing he could swallow now so he just let it drool out, syrupy spilling down his lips and soaking his goatee. Yahn groaned this time, tugging on his dreads, and rammed his cockhead against the back of Amarant's throat. The spongy flesh flattened, rutting against the back of his throat. Amarant swallowed on nothing, mouth open wide, and then tried it again, bearing down on the enormous cockhead as Yahn ground forward, jaw clicking as the pulsing head throbbed right against the joint. There was a pop, a sting of pain, and then the cockhead was in his throat, scraping downwards.

It wasn't the first time he'd had his jaw dislocated, but it was the first time he'd had it done by a cock and not somebody's fists. He squinted, urge to work the busted muscle transferred to the rest of his face, and Yahn chuckled at his expression, fingers digging into his scalp as he pulled Amarant's head down and down, shaft throbbing in his throat, scraping its way down as the whole spit-shined length of it slid past his lips.

Amarant's nose bumped against Yahn crotch, pubes scratchy, and Yahn clenched, muscle right in front of his eyes stirring as his cock jerked hard, lurching upward and taking his whole head with it. Amarant gurgled, wet pops bubbling up from his throat, a frothy mess of pre spilling over his lips. Yahn tipped his head back and started thrusting: drawing Amarant's head back, half his shaft pulling out, cockhead rising up in his throat, spit spilling freely down his shaft, and then pulled him back down, face meeting the muscled arch of his crotch with a smack, fluid splattering everywhere. His cockhead twitched, the swell feeling like it was gonna rip through his throat, a wet pulse of pre felt spattering across his internal flesh, slowly dribbling down into his stomach.

Amarant sunk down to the base, throat milking the shaft, and Yahn leaned forward, just resting his cock in Amarant's throat, hands groping down Amarant's back. He shoved under the waist of Amarant's pants, slick fingers scrabbling against his ass, spiking up the hair there. He shoved a two fat fingers down the cleft of his ass, the rest fanning out across his cheek, fingertips grinding against his hole. Amarant let out a surprised grunt. He'd never done that before; nobody'd ever touched him there. Yahn's finger was slick, slathered in spit and pre, matting the hair as he reached down. But his asshole was hairless, nothing but skin on skin, and -- sensitive. Every furrow of his wrinkled asshole let itself be known, Yahn's fingertip a fat pad stroking over his hole. Yahn bore down, flesh dimpling, wet slide replaced with a heavier grind, flesh shifting up and down. Amarant groaned, facedown in Yahn's crotch, fat shaft throbbing in his throat, turning the sound into a dull rumble, and then gagged again, throat spasming, thick spit gushing out around his bruised lips, soaking down to Yahn's balls.

Yahn chuckled and sat back, finger pulling away with a final tap against his hole, and then he shoved Amarant back, going through the same motions, cockhead ripping out of his throat with a lurch, stuck bloating Amarant's cheeks for a second or two before he spat it out, the head swaying to the side and coming back to rest across his cheek, splurting pre across the side of his face, down his neck. His mouth was wide open, jawbone just hanging there. Amarant reached up, fingers touching below his temples gingerly, and shoved it back into place. There was another stab of pain, fingers digging in harder, and a soggy-sounding clunk as the joint lined up.

Yahn laughed again: "I'm sure as hell not done with your mouth; I'm just gonna knock that shit outta place again." His fingers groped across Amarant's face, testing the joint. His thumb slipped over Amarant's bruised lips, slid across the line of his teeth. "Strip," he said.

So Amarant did, shirtfront already soaked dark, cock tented in his pants. He made sure to do it so Yahn didn't see all his fucking knives either; wouldn't do for him to get spooked. He'd never gotten fucked before, but, hell, the people who did it probably liked it; probably there was something to it. If somebody'd told him he'd love choking on cock a month ago he probably woulda gutted them just to make a point, but here and now, well, might as well test it, see how it went, and he needed some dumb asshole's cock to do that.

Yahn wasn't watching his clothes, anyway; he was watching his skin, leering at Amarant's hairy chest, licking his lips when Amarant shoved his pants down to the knee and kicked them off, stripped naked, cock hanging heavy and fat between his thighs, red hair a brilliant contrast against his pale skin -- though looking down he was flushed purplish all across his chest; the heat in his neck and face was probably visible, splotchy purple across his face.

Yahn's fingers slid over his beard, stubble scraping, sending the trapped ooze spilling down his face. He shoved two fingers in his mouth, thumb splayed across his lip, and leaned forward again: spreading the fat globes of his ass with his off-hand to shove his fingers against his asshole, rubbing up and down. "You got a nice ass," he growled in Amarant's ear, puffing breath burning. "I'm gonna fuck you wide open." His cock jumped, slapping against Amarant's throat, and he growled. "After I blow a load or two down your throat. We been on the run for a while; this is the first time we've got to settle down. Haven't gotten off good for weeks."

His fingers were salty with sweat, active in a way his cock hadn't been, groping across his teeth, digging into his tongue, his other fingers slotted against his jaw, keeping Amarant's mouth open and drooling. He slid his fingers across Amarant's stubbled cheek and shoved the rest into his mouth, four fat fingers shoving against the back of his throat, thumb splayed up his face, rubbing greasy circles just under his eye. Yahn twisted, knuckles digging hard against the roof of his mouth, putting more and more pressure on his jaw until -- there was a crunch against the inside of his ear, a rubbery pop lower, and his jaw unhinged again with a sting of pain. Amarant suppressed the reflexive clench that would've made it really hurt; just let his jaw sag down, drooling all down Yahn's hand, glowering up at him.

"Neat trick," he said. His thumb stroked Amarant's lower lip, testing the stretch of his dislocated jaw, sliding his thumb into his mouth. His fingers groped at his tonsils, shoving into his throat. Amarant gagged, coughing, a mess of spit and pre stuck in his throat pouring down Yahn's wrist. His cock had been at least smooth; his hand was bony, lumpy, articulated; it let him breathe around it. His lips slurped over the knob of his wrist, teeth grazing the back of his hand, and Yahn crooked his hand, knuckles back and back, fingers shoved down his throat, palpitating the spasming muscles, Amarant coughing and gagging, drool spilling freely from his lips. "I hope you can take as much up your ass." He pushed harder, trying to fit his fingers down Amarant's throat, and it seemed like it surprised them both when he did.

Amarant gagged again, a frothy spill of sludge dribbling down his wrist, and then swallowed, muscles of his throat banding like iron around Yahn's fingers. He breathed, rasping and bubbling, as Yahn shoved deeper, the crest of his knuckles easily fitting past his teeth, jaw sagging, and ground against his palate, fingers tugging at his Adam's apple from the underside. The web of his thumb was pressed tight against Amarant's lip, coated in sludge, and Yahn slid up, twisted, the claw of his thumbnail pushing past Amarant's lips, a hot point of pressure against the back of his throat. He shoved forward more, Amarant gagging at the hot prods of his fingers squirming down his throat, tugging and tearing at his flesh: bruised lips spread around his wrist, tongue pressed against Yahn's palm, the entire heft of his huge hand shoved into his mouth, down his throat.

Amarant gagged, a frothy mess of pre and silky phlegm, burbling over Yahn's wrist, and he pulled back -- knuckles scraping against his teeth on the withdraw, another twinge of pain right against the hinge of his jaw -- and wiped them on Amarant's beard, thumb digging against his chin.

Amarant coughed weakly, reaching up with one hand to shove his jaw back into place, stretching it, yawning and biting, before he spat to the side. "You gonna fuck me or just play parlor tricks with my mouth?" His voice was thick; he spit again, sludgy come still stuck in his throat.

"Pushy."

"I got a schedule." True enough.

"Lemme blow on your face first; I gotta take the edge off or I'll pop the second I get into your pretty little ass." Yahn looked down at him, a hungry grin on his face, thumb digging into his lower lip. "You should'nt've set your jaw; I'm gonna knock it right out of place."

Yahn reached forward, grabbing Amarant's head like a ball: fingertips digging in behind his ears, palms pressed flat over his ears, so all he could hear was the rushing sound of his own heartbeat. He jerked Amarant down, cockhead slapping against his face -- filthy length smearing across his face as Yahn rutted against him, once, twice, before lining it up, fat cockhead digging into Amarant's lips, gushing salty pre across his tongue.

If what they'd done before could be called easing it in, Yahn didn't spare any thought to it this time: he knew what Amarant could do and he wanted it fast. His fingers dug in, jerking Amarant forward, one hand coming down to all-but yank his jaw right out of place, cock twitching in Amarant's mouth from his reflexive grunt of pain. He pulled Amarant down, plunging his cock into his throat with a sick gurgle, thickness stretching his throat, Yahn's heartbeat throbbing against his Adam's apple. All of it, to the root: shaft pulsing in his throat, stretched lips pressed against the base of his shaft, pubes scratchy against his mouth.

Yahn groaned, hips jerking forward, and started sawing back and forth, pulling Amarant down to the base of his crotch, grinding his lips against his pubes, before jerking back, pulling half his shaft out glistening with spit and pre, snapping his hips forward to sink it back down his throat, immense cockhead snapping through the convulsing muscles in his throat, bands of pressure pummeled wide open. His cock twitched again, a gush of pre flooding Amarant's throat and mostly getting coughed up; he gagged, spraying the watery mess across Yahn's sloppy cock, and that just made Yahn groan louder, cock twitching on the verge of orgasm.

Yahn grunted, abs clenched, balls drawing up tight, trying to stay on the edge for as long as he could: his cock kept drooling come, not in pulses, just a constant pour like he was pissing it out, a hot stream of thick slime coating Amarant's throat in a sticky heat.

Yahn jerked back, breathing hard, and shoved Amarant back until only the head was in his throat, cockhead throbbing, each pulse a wet pop in his jaw, echoing through his inner ear. His cock pulled out with an explosion of stringy slime, slurping up from its resting place against Amarant's tonsils. Thick cords of slime were tugged up from his throat, webbing across his tongue and teeth as Yahn's cock erupted from his mouth, a wet spray of spit splattering all across Yahn's crotch, until the whole thing was out in the open, twitching and jerking as thick ooze bubbled up from his gaping cockslit, grey-yellow, coming out in a continual flow. Each twitch expelled a messy spurt, slimy come spurting and spraying and folding over itself, forming a messy cluster of bubbles that sluggishly drooled down the underside of his cock.

Amarant leaned in, going to lap it up, but Yahn caught his head, shoved it down so he couldn't touch tongue to cockhead and tip him over the edge, just drenching his hair, slowly soaking down to his scalp, oozing through his roots to pour down his face in a glassy flood. Yahn wrapped his fingers around the base, one at a time: pressing like he was playing the flute, not even stroking, just tapping his fingers against the underside, just enough stimulation to keep him at the very precipice.

It wasn't gonna last. Yahn grunted, head thrown back, and shuddered with his entire body, abs contracting into huge blocks, hand squeezing his cock to delay the inevitable. He grabbed Amarant by the hair and wrenched his head back, lining him up for the shot: cockhead an inch from his face. Amarant's rasping breath billowed over his cockhead, erratic wheezes pushing the pouring flood of come back, spattering like raindrops over Yahn's hand. He squeezed the base of his cock in rhythm, each time his veins popping to the surface, gnarled and thick.

He grunted, snarling and slavering that built into a long groan. His cock lurched, jerking off to the side, and he started stroking fast, panting as he finally shot off. His cock lurched again, and the impact was shocking hot and surprisingly liquid, heat splattering right between Amarant's eyes and splattering in all directions. Thick globs stuck to his skin, salt dribbling across his lips. He jerked back, reflex at the hit, and Yahn grabbed his dreads and yanked him right back into place, cockhead thumping against his cheek as the next blast hit point-blank and sprayed everywhere, droplets from the splash splattering down across his skin a full half-second later.

He kept stroking, tugging Amarant's face further back, upturned face catching each rope of come. Yahn groaned continually, stroking madly, fucking his hand as he finally unleashed, spraying all across Amarant's face.

His cockhead bobbed up and down, slapping against Amarant's mouth -- shooting from nose to hairline, spilling down his cheek, soaking into his beard. Yahn's strokes brought him too close; his knuckles bashed into Amarant's already-bruised lower lip with the force of a punch. The blow knocked him back onto his ass, hands falling back to catch his fall even as he groaned, angry throb in his lip doubling. Yahn followed the motion, taking a half-step forward, hand still fisted into Amarant's dreads, crouching over him as he drenched his face. It was like somebody upended a jug over his head: waterfalls of slime poured down his face, glazing his skin, forming thick lines dancing in the air, wetly slapping against Amarant's neck and chest. He sputtered, blowing a spume of spit-thinned sludge in a mess of misty droplets across Yahn's cock, Yahn's hand just as drenched in come as Amarant's face: green skin gone a sickly grey, thick rivers of come winding between his knuckles.

Yahn's entire body convulsed, muscle spasm that painted his next shot in a messy zigzag all across Amarant's face. He growled and spoke: "Open up."

Amarant did, and Yahn's cockhead slammed into place against his lower lip with a smack, gaping cockslit an open mouth, swollen lips spread. His cock shuddered, muscle spasms in Yahn's gut sending his cock lurching up, slamming against Amarant's teeth, and then he shot off again. Just one pulse, pouring hot and thick behind his teeth, crackling as it hit the back of his mouth and poured over itself, slopping over his lips before he could even begin to swallow. His cock throbbed again, swelling against his tongue, and the lancing blast slapped his tonsils, pouring into the thick pool of come spilling from his mouth. Yahn shot again, and again, gripping the base of his dick and stroking the whole while.

Yahn tugged back, cockhead pulling away from Amarant's tongue, still linked by a messy cord of come, thick lines all joined together, stretching out as he drew back into thick planes of slime, bubbly froth collecting at the corners. He slapped his cock down across Amarant's face, the mess splattering all across his cheeks, drooling down the side of his face.

Yahn rutted his cock back and forth, smearing his load all over, gooey things slurping and crackling, a thick glaze coating Amarant's face, saturating his beard and drooling down his neck. Fresh come oozed into his hair, stuck in thick globs, or hit him in the forehead, all of it slowly oozing down his face.

Yahn sat back, cock heavy and hot pressed across Amarant's face. He sprawled back onto the bed, catching his breath, his cock still ramrod hard standing straight up in the air, still twitching out the last dribble of his load, shaft slathered in spit and come, frothy mess drooling down the shaft and catching in his pubes, on his furrowed balls. "Yeah, that's better, fuck," he groaned. "Get up here; gimmie your ass."

Amarant blinked, come stuck to his lashes, right eye plastered shut. He wiped the worst of it off, licked his hand: thick, dimly salty. He was soaked in come, droplets soaking through his thick dreads, a steady drip across his scalp as liquid made its way through his hair, wet streams sluicing down his shoulders, a thick glaze stuck to his face, beard dripping come at the slightest touch. Hot, like it should be steaming. Like instead of cooling Yahn's load was cooking itself down to a thicker tar, thicker ooze dribbling back behind his ears, tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He got up, slid across Yahn's body, skin hot and damp where they touched. Yahn guided him forward, tugged him up so he was on his elbows and knees, then slid back: cock still hard, tapping against his thigh as Yahn groped down his back, thick fingers digging into the meat of his ass, slimy fingers shoving between his cheeks to rub his hole for a second as Yahn shifted, standing up. A second later: his cock stuck his thigh, Yahn's hand curled around the base, slapping the spit-soaked length against Amarant's ass cheeks, fingers groping up, smearing the ooze caking it over Amarant's hairy skin, rubbing it in until his skin shone, hair soaked into whorls and peaks.

Amarant pushed back, grinding his ass against Yahn's dick. "Get on with it." His voice was hoarse, raspy, and he spit onto the sheets, clots of come stuck in his throat.

"You really are impatient, huh. Pushiest damn whore I've ever seen." But Yahn spat on his fingers, groping down Amarant's crack, spreading his meaty cheeks and spitting again on his asshole; hole puckering in response. He shoved his spit-slick fingers against it, harder now, clenching hole spreading under the pressure. It was -- strange. Pressure up inside him, Yahn's probing fingers grinding against something, a tingling pleasure spreading in his ass, and Amarant went facedown, ass in the air, face smearing come across the sheets, thick rank scent heavy in his nose.

Yahn's fat fingers broke past his hole, slick but still rough shoved inside him -- inside him, poking and prying, the same as when he'd shoved his fingers down his throat but a hundred times stranger, something inside him, hard and thick, groping around. Yahn's fingers slid up the wall of his ass, jabbing hard, and --

Amarant's vision whited out; he exhaled in a surprised whuff. The tingle burst into a full-body explosion, a ripple of heat bursting through him -- lingering under his balls, dripping cockhead, where his nipples were scrubbing against the rough sheets. Yahn cocked his fingers and pulled back, brushing over the spot again, and this time Amarant had some clue what to expect, moaning when the spark of pleasure burst again, cock oozing a bead of pre onto the sheets. He rutted back, chasing Yahn's retreating finger, an aborted moan when he only brushed across the spot before he pulled out all the way. He spat again, Amarant's hole winking open, clenching on nothing -- it felt like Yahn's finger was still inside, ass tingling, the ghost of the pressure still alive inside him.

Amarant moaned sadly on the withdraw, but Yahn shoved his fingers right back inside a fraction of a second later, finger-fucking him, thumb rubbing against his wrinkled asshole, two fingers sawing into him, thick clawtips ramming against that spot inside him, a spark that pulsed through his entire body. Amarant rutting back, meeting each motion, mind thinking only of lining him up right, shoving back, spearing himself on Yahn's fingers just so, over and over until he was panting, whining hoarse in his throat, eyes rolling back into his skull with each prod. He wasn't aware he was coming until he was, raggedly moaning as he hole convulsed around Yahn's fingers, cock slapping up against his belly as he came completely hands-free, stringy come splattering across his chest, smearing to mix with the mess already coating his skin.

Fingers groped at his furrowed balls, reaching forward to tug on his cock, the last drops of his load dribbling out. "No wonder you were so impatient to get my cock in you," Yahn said, fingers crooking inside, rubbing over that spot again, and Amarant bellowed, hips jerking -- cock sliding through Yahn's loose fist, fingers skewering inside him, harder -- and came again instantly, groaning whimper ass he gushed his load across the sheets, pulse after pulse as Yahn milked him dry, and then shoved his come-coated fingers into his mouth. Amarant sucked his own load off of them, saltier than Yahn's, the meaty taste more pronounced.

Yahn's fingers pulled from his mouth, line of spit wiped across his face when he planted his hand between Amarant's shoulderblades, shoved him facedown onto the bed. "Gonna fuck you," he said, simply, cock bubbling pre across his hip, a wet stream drooling down the outside of his thigh. Amarant collapsed down, shoulders and head flat on the bed, legs spread. Yahn repositioned him, and Amarant went with it. His hands tugged on his hips; more sharply angled, and spread across his back; pushing down, until he was splayed across the bed, ass in the air, right on display. Yahn stooped down to his knees, cheekbones digging against Amarant's ass cheeks, diving down between his muscled cheeks to tap his tongue against his hole, wet and slick sliding up and down, steady pressure.

Amarant groaned, spikes of heat racing up his spine, spreading with every lap of Yahn's tongue on his hole, steady strokes sliding up and down, tongue spreading his ring, spitting into his ass as he sloppily made out with Amarant's hole, until drool was freely spilling down his taint, dripping from the furrowed skin of his balls, streaking down his inner thighs. Amarant groaned, low, the sensation this time building slow: he was gonna come just from this, Yahn's fingers digging into his hip, Yahn's tongue on his asshole. He bit the sheets, whining groan muffled as he shot off again, hole convulsing around Yahn's tongue.

Yahn drew back, laughing against his ass, spitting slobber into his spread hole. "Fuck you got a hair trigger. Three times?" He stood, cock slotting between his cheeks unerringly. "Let's see how many times you come on my cock."

His fingers and tongue had been slippery, but his cockhead was impossibly slick, spit plus the constant burble of pre sheathing them in a fluid sheen. It felt like the most natural thing, asshole fluttering open, wanting to yield even against Yahn's fist-sized head. Amarant felt himself spread, ring of muscle sliding open against the steady pressure of his cockhead, little shocky spurts of pleasure at the heft and drag as it sunk into him, still dazed after his last orgasm, cock still oozing droplets of come.

His cockhead hit that spot inside him, a hundred times better than just his finger, and Amarant went boneless, groaning deep, his cock twitching and twitching, slapping against his belly, slowly starting to ooze come in a continual trickle as Yahn bore into him. The tip spurted, cockhead flaring minutely, an extra iota of pressure, and wet heat slopped up inside him, outlining the walls of his ass. Pre slowly painted his ass walls until they dripped, pre collecting against Yahn's cockhead and starting to ooze out around his stretched hole, lubing the way for the rest of his cockhead: the fat rim nestled just below his ring, juddering forward and back as Yahn worked him open.

"Fuck, you're tight," he said, huge hands gripping Amarant's hips, digging hard enough he was gonna bruise.

"C'mon," Amarant groaned, pushing back -- stretch on the edge of painful, every beat of Yahn's heart spreading him extra -- "Fuck me hard."

"Demanding little whore aren't you?" Yahn chuckled, easing deeper, gristly rim of his cockhead digging against Amarant's spread ring. "Three times not enough? Don't worry, I'll fuck you good, you little slut."

Which, unfortunately, was when the door slammed open. Yahn looked over, hands digging harder into Amarant's ass. "Oh, hey," he said, very laconic about it.

It was Auver in the doorway. Unfortunately. Amarant was gonna have to get some better rope next time. Maybe chains. He looked a mess: shirt rags, bleeding rope burns across his wrist and forearms. The spot where he'd hit him in the chest was purpling up real nicely, a huge bruise blooming nearly from shoulder to neck. He took in the scene, seeing Amarant just as some body spread across the bed. He stepped in, breathing hard: "No time. Somebody's after us; we're lucky I got here fast enough. We gotta get out of town now; no time for fucking."

"You sure?" Yahn said. "Fuck, and this one was real good." His cock twitched, a fresh spatter of pre hitting the walls of Amarant's ass.

Auver came closer, and Amarant saw the moment when recognition flashed in his eyes. It wasn't subtle. He came to a dead stop; his jaw dropped. Amarant wasn't looking forward to the inevitable fight. Neither of them were a threat -- Yahn was about two seconds from being unconscious or worse if he really felt like reaching back to get his hands on his neck, and, well, he'd already beaten Auver once. But he wanted to get fucked.

"Who's this?" Auver said, slowly, still off-guard. Like he was holding out hope for maybe Yahn just found an exact duplicate, and that Amarant'd gotten lost on the way there. Neither of them were that bright.

"Just some whore," Yahn said.

Auver stared, Amarant glaring right back, and Yahn, oblivious to the tension, jerked forward a fraction of an inch, cockhead ramming his prostate hard. Amarant groaned, eyelids fluttering, eyes rolling back, asshole spasming as it tried to clamp down, stretching wider and wider as Yahn eased his cockhead into him, the flare a nearly-painful ridge of gristle finally grinding its way through his ring. Amarant huffed, panting, entire body jerking again when Yahn made it all the way through, cockhead solidly sunk inside him, hole clamped around his gnarled shaft.

"You're just gonna watch?" Yahn said, hand fanning out across Amarant's lower back, palm grinding against his sweaty skin. "He sucks dick real good."

"Yeah, c'mon, let me suck your dick," Amarant said, sneering up at him.

There was a pause. "You better not fucking bite," Auver said, fishing his cock out of his pants: basically the same as Yahn's: oversized, thickening fast.

"He's not gonna bite; he's good at it. Took my cock all the way down."

"Is that so?" Auver ran a finger across Amarant's cheek, smearing Yahn's load. "My little brother really made a mess, huh?"

"You gonna talk about it or you gonna fuck me?"

Yahn laughed. "Man, he got a mouth on him, right? He's fucking begging for it; it's great."

"Sure is." Auver's thumb pressed against Amarant's lower lip, opening his mouth. Amarant lapped at his finger, tasting sweat and blood. Auver tipped his head up, spat down, saliva splattering across his face, catching across his bruised lips. "I think we got a little time, then."

Yahn shifted, pushing deeper, huge knob of a cockhead sliding further inside, and Amarant groaned, Auver's cockhead prodding against his lower lip halfway through, muffling the sound. "He's such a slut, it's great," Yahn said, fingers digging into Amarant's fat ass to punctuate, dragging him back, sinking his cock deeper. "Got him to come three times just playing with his ass."

Auver snorted, a short little amused huff, but his gaze was locked unerringly on Amarant's face, watching. Auver slapped his cock across his face, through the mess Yahn had made, three solid slaps like what he really wanted to do was smack him with his hand, full-on.

But he didn't: he wrapped his hand around the tip, squeezing it like some swollen fruit, knuckles scraping against Amarant's beard they were so close. Little muscle contractions in his stomach sent it twitching, jerking against Auver's grip, rivulets of pre flowing over his fingers, spilling across Amarant's face and down to the floor in equal measure. He spread his fingers, smearing them across Amarant's face, shoving his cockhead down with his palm so it pressed right against Amarant's open mouth.

"Suck it," he said, and stared the whole time as Amarant spread his lips, pursed around the flange of his cockhead. Like he really was gonna bite. Amarant stared back as he took more of it in, sinking down the shaft, drooling to get it slick. The tip hit the back of his mouth and he swallowed, head not-quite pushing further. Nearly half the shaft in his mouth. He started bobbing, up and down, taking the fat head into his throat with a pop, pulling back to cradle it in his mouth, milking runny strings of pre from the swollen tip, lips tugging back on the huge flare.

"Get him to do the throat thing," Yahn said.

Yahn's cock was twitching hard in his ass, a constant flood of pre, wet and slippery inside him. He jerked forward, immense cock sliding over the walls of his ass until it hit some hard wall of muscles. Yahn jerked forward, cock bending a little from its sheer size before it pummeled its way into his guts, huge head ramming against the end of his ass again and digging deeper, punching through some second opening. His ass opened up into -- heat, a hot open space deep inside him, broken past the clenching hole that felt like a second asshole. Amarant's guts churned, heat from Yahn's pre spreading through his entire body, pulse after pulse. Yahn's thighs spanked Amarant's ass, meeting with a sharp clap, cock buried to the root inside him. He pulled back and thrust again, shockingly liquid, pre streaming from his ass on the withdraw, shaft smearing it over every surface of his ass; a gush erupting out from inside when Yahn clapped his thighs against Amarant's ass again, jerked forward, and his cock stirred inside him, up and down, sending Amarant's guts lurching.

Auver was still staring at him. He reached forward and grabbed the back of Amarant's head, shoving forward, trying to fit his cock down Amarant's throat -- he grinned at the sick gag when he tried harder, a wet sputter of pre and phlegm spat down his shaft. His cockhead knocked against the back of his throat, too hard and all the wrong angle to make it down. He sufficed for ramming hard against the back of his mouth, Auver grunting as he tried to force Amarant's head down, fucking half his cock back and forth, balls swinging like a pendulum between his thighs. He growled. "Flip him over," Auver said. "I wanna fuck his throat."

Yahn just dug his hand under his hip and bodily flipped him, spinning him like meat on a spit. Yahn's cock slid in his ass, or more like his body slid around the cock, Yahn's shove flipping him over into his back without him pulling out more than an inch. Auver's palm dug into his shoulder, finishing the job, aligning his head neatly between his thighs. His oversized balls just about covered Amarant's entire face, reeking now of sweat and sex; Auver shifted forward, thighs pressing against Amarant's cheeks. His hand wrapped around his shaft, fingers scraping the hollow of Amarant's throat, and he slapped it against his chest, head impacting past his collarbone. Showing him how deep it was gonna be when it was all down his throat. But, well, Amarant had managed bigger; he was grinning when Auver jerked back, cockhead digging against his lips before Amarant opened wide, tongue lapping across the dome of the head before Auver shoved in.

It was a better angle, at least.

Auver grabbed his head like it was a ball, palms scratching across his cheeks, fingers digging behind his ears, and dragged Amarant forward onto his cock, plunging the whole thing down his throat. His heavy sac pressed against his face, slathered with sweat and pre, and when he drew back and thrust his balls cracked across his face like getting punched, starting a rapid tattoo beat. His cock twitched with each smack, straining his neck.

Amarant gurgled, giving up on trying to swallow, just letting a filmy mess of phlegm and pre pour from his mouth, slick and sticky pouring across his face, splattering with each impact of Auver's balls. His throat squelched, sloppy noises bursting out of him as Auver fucked him, torrents of gummy slime clotting his throat and burbling out, clogging his nose and plastering his eyelids shut.

The sound of it faded away: just sensation, the two of them fucking him hard. Auver's thighs strained across his cheeks, supple flesh of his balls churning across his face, cock stirring inside him, trembling and gushing, each spurt of pre heavy, flooding down his throat. Yahn hilted in his ass with a sharp clap, cockhead punching through into his guts, all it felt like the two of them were gonna meet in the middle. Heat billowed around him, like Amarant felt like he should be steaming, thick plumes of sweat and come pouring off him as the wet mess plastered across every inch of bare skin dried to a crust. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, a steady wum-wum like roaring water. He could feel Auver's groan, rumbling down through his hands and cock, buzzing in his throat.

Yahn's thrusts grew erratic, snorted breath billowing across his stomach and untouched cock. Amarant groaned, throat vibrating around Auver's cock. Yahn's thighs smacked against his ass again and again, the cudgel of his cock ramming up inside him, brutally-thick girth crushing his prostate almost accidentally, each sloppy thrust grinding back and forth. He huffed, fingers digging into Amarant's hips, strong enough it hurt. Then Yahn rammed all the way in, cockhead spearing into his guts, pubes grinding against Amarant's ass, and roared.

His bellow almost drowned out the roar of blood in Amarant's ears, washing out everything else. Yahn's cock surged, thickening as it twitched, making the stretch of his ass burn: his spread ring, the broken-wide span of that clenching entrance to his guts, and his guts themselves lurching and straining, wrapped tight around Yahn's brutally-huge cockhead, jerking and thumping inside him. His shots sloshed, sudden shocks of heat inside him, heavy and wet, getting heavier as they filled him up. Pulse after pulse, audibly gurgling, churning and slurping as his load sprayed into his guts, pressure building up inside before his muscles spasmed and gave out, come gushing down into his ass, erupting around Yahn's shaft in thick slobbery bursts, taking seconds for each gush to flood out of him.

Yahn groaned, still thrusting, tugging his cock an inch back and forth, just shallowly rutting as he unloaded, fingers digging hard into Amarant's ass, wet slurps getting louder until they were a continuous gurgle of scum pouring out of him. He jerked forward, burying himself to the hilt again, and thick cords of come squirted out, splattering across Amarant's hairy cheeks, running in thick lines down his thighs onto the sodden sheets. Yahn pulled back, a sucking gurgle coming from Amarant's broken ass, the ring of his asshole convulsing without his conscious control, spasming wildly around Yahn's shaft. Come churned inside him, and more spilled out in thick globs, slurping as they poured over the rim of his hole. Yahn kept at it, sawing back and forth as he unloaded, until Amarant's ass was glazed with come, finger-thick cords of come strung between them, squelching together when he hilted only to stretch out into flabby arches when he pulled back, a thick runny mess between them.

It was a bigger load than what he'd blown across Amarant's face, and that had seemed to defy belief. He just kept coming, each twitch of his cock spraying his guts with another blast of come, lewd slurps as he fucked more and more into him, all gurgling out in a thick mess, overflowing his ass and pouring down his thighs, gluing his hair to his skin. His fingers tugged on Amarant's hips, pulling him back, each thrust slow and lazy, mashing Amarant's fat ass against his crotch, balls pressing against the glazed surface of his cheeks, an extra spurt each time he bottomed out.

Eventually he at least pulled out, shoving Amarant forward -- face buried in Auver's crotch, cock a lead pipe shoved down his throat -- until only the tip of his cock was lodged inside. Even his gaping, abused hole was drawn tight around the fat head: it caught for a second, distending his whole ass before the seal broke and Amarant's hole released the swollen tip, raw red insides gaping as Yahn's cockhead tore out of him with a messy eruption of come. The continual ooze of come turned into a pouring waterfall without his cock stopping the flow, another huge slug of come oozing out of him each time his hole clenched, sensation ghosting inside him like Yahn was still thrusting.

Amarant groaned, hole pulsing. It was a living thing attached to his ass, squeezing and contracting using muscles he didn't know he had, over and over, rising and falling between his cheeks, a wet silky glide of skin against skin. Each contraction forced out a thick squirt of come, gushing instead of pouring, sick wet sounds coming from his ass as Yahn's load spilled out, mixing with the fresh squirts Yahn was spurting over his ass. There was a crackling kind of slurp behind him, Yahn stroking himself off, finishing the last of his load sprayed all up and down Amarant's stomach, painting his hard cock in thick, swampy lines of come, pouring down over his balls, between his thighs, to mix with the mess oozing from his ass.

Auver pulled out just to slap Amarant's face with his cock, the spit-slathered thing oozing heavily, cords of slime tugging all across his face as he ground it down. "Stop whimpering and get back to work."

Yahn finally stopped coming, or at least subsided to a dribble that was just pouring between his legs instead of spurting across his ass. "Give his ass a try," he said, smacking Amarant's ass for emphasis, a wet spray of come splashing out from the impact. Amarant was practically slathered head to toe: spit, come, whatever; every inch of skin shone dully, the hair across his chest and legs glued down in dark whorls.

"Fuck, check this out--" Yahn said, shoving two fingers inside him up to the knuckle. He pulled -- two fingers on different hands, hole distending into a wide slash, come gurgling out of him and pouring down the backs of Yahn's hands. He slipped in more fingers, index and middle of both hands, hooked around the hugely swollen flesh of his asshole, muscle a thick, rubbery ring he was slowly stretching wider and wider. Amarant groaned, shoving his ass back at Yahn, hips jerking up and down, and Yahn laughed, slid his fingers through the slick mess, fingers jabbing hard against his prostate as he kept yanking his hole wider and wider, come just pouring out of him.

Auver shuffled around the bed to watch. "Get your hands out of there, let me," he said, and Amarant whined when Yahn's hands pulled away. His wrecked hole didn't even close, bruised flesh only slowly smearing back into place, hole just plain gaping. There was a shift in the air, cool air stinging against the inner flesh of his ass, and Auver settled behind him, hands rough as he stroked up Amarant's thighs, through the sloppy mess pouring out of him, knuckles grinding up and down against his hole.

Auver's knuckles dug against his skin, rubbery flesh dimpling easily, and then he cocked his fist and rammed forward, sinking his fingers -- and hand and wrist -- into Amarant in a single brutal punch. Amarant bellowed like a bull being slaughtered, back arching -- Auver's fist visible through his hollowed stomach, lurching as he rooted around in Amarant's guts -- and then collapsed, boneless, shuddering weakly. Auver shoved deeper, Amarant's whole body lurching with the force, wrist and then forearm starting to slip into his broken ass, messy squirts of come gushing out around the loose seal, squelching as Auver flexed and twisted his arm.

Auver had his rings on: the metal seemed hotter than his skin, flat and inflexible, with none of the give his flesh had. Auver pulled back, fist tearing out of Amarant's wrecked hole, and then shoved back in, slower. His rings caught this time, fat and blocky against the thick band of his asshole, each one a thick lump, heavy and hard, grinding over his stinging flesh as Auver worked back and forth, punch-fucking him.

A cock knocked across his face; Amarant jerked up, surprised, and Yahn just spread his mouth and shoved inside. He'd moved to the other side of the bed at some point. Clearly. He sucked, slobbering down the shaft, groans muffled as Yahn started thrusting.

Yahn fucked his face, grunting, groaning, punctuated with "fuck yeahs," or "yeah, like that"s, just as eager to get off for the third time as the first. Auver, though -- he rooted around in his guts, ramming his fist deeper. Sure as hell not trying to get Amarant off, even as he groaned around Yahn's cock and blew again, prostate flattened by the latest punch. Not even trying to get himself off. It was like he was doing it because he could, because he wanted to see Amarant take it.

Auver pulled his fist out with a squelch, come flooding out down his balls. Auver paused, fist still nocked against his broken asshole; laughed. "Lost a ring," he said, and yeah, Amarant could even feel which one when he reached inside: a big lumpy one he had on his littlest finger, a big fat knob just before the knuckle that wasn't there anymore. He shoved back inside, groping, fingers jabbing at the walls of Amarant's ass, following the curves of his internal muscles. His thumb squirmed against the opening to his guts; it spread easily, after having taken Yahn's cock. Another ring started to slip off, metal hotter than skin, a lumpy weight inside him as Auver breached the entrance to his guts, finger-fucking him, letting another ring slip off on purpose and then prying deeper to try and catch it. He punched inside, guts gurgling as he slammed his arm in nearly to the elbow.

Amarant jolted forward, the breath knocked from his lungs -- he practically heatbutted Yahn, gurgling around the base of his cock, and Yahn let out a surprised "oof" and stumbled back, cock pulling from Amarant's throat with a rubbery pop. Amarant let out a hoarse groan, broken asshole screaming against the heft of Auver's forearm, flexing, huge block muscle contracting to its full size, grotesquely-stretched band of Amarant's ass clamped tight just above the elbow.

Auver pulled out like it was nothing, squirts of come gushing around his arm before his hand pulled out with a messy schlop, leaving Amarant's gaping hole pulsing, throbbing between his cheeks. Amarant was dazed, eyes closed, concentrating on just breathing, guts churning like Auver was still inside him, muscles in his ass and back spasming, pushing out little squirts of come, dribbling down in a tacky flow to his balls.

The two shuffled around him, talking, and when a cockhead dug against his lips he spread his mouth wide. It dribbled pre, salt across his teeth, and when he opened his bleary eyes he just saw a smear of green, chunky abs flexing as whoever shifted above him.

Amarant's jaw was hanging open, a drooling hole, and the cock shoved inside, a hand spanning the back of his head pulling him down until the whole thing was sheathed in his throat with only a single gag, huge balls slapping against his chin. He grunted and groaned, fucking Amarant's face, sick slurps as his throat convulsed, slack mouth drooling across his pubes, bruised lips stinging with each thrust, stretched wide around his enormously fat shaft. A cockhead knocked against his ass, scraping across his hairy skin, sliding to his ravaged hole and sinking in effortlessly. Amarant just took it, the two of them rutting into him, mouth and ass broken open, wet spills of come gurgling out of him from both ends, body just a collection of holes for them to use. Amarant reached up, wrapped his hands around whoever was fucking his mouth, groping the rock-hard muscle of his ass and pulling him close, sheathing the entire length of his cock in his throat, tip gushing under his collarbone. Whoever it was groaned, hand wrapping around his throat, thrusting shallowly, keeping his cockhead buried all the way down his chest.

It didn't take long for him to come, pumping another load down Amarant's throat, slobbery weight sloshing as he added another mess of come to the churning mess inside him, stomach swollen to the point of strain, aching and stuffed. His heartbeat was fast and hard, throbbing against the inside of his ears, each gush of come a liquid rush, audible against his heartbeat.

Whoever pulled out, eventually, come coming out sheathed in thick filmy planes, sheets of clotted bubbles tethered across Amarant's face. Amarant collapsed to the side, frothy messy just stretching out between them, chunky cords sliding up across his mouth, tugging semisolid blobs up his throat, over his teeth. He breathed in burbling heaves, spitting up thick clots of come, impact across his face hot when the cords finally stretched to their breaking point and snapped. Looking up: it'd been Yahn still fucking his mouth, which meant it was Auver balls-deep in his ass. Not that it mattered much.

Auver came, eventually. Amarant took it, bed creaking under the thrusts, body feeling like so much pulverized meat, heavy and bruised. Gaping open where they fucked him. Auver roared. It was the first time he'd come, Amarant realized dimly, cock pulsing in his guts as he came and came, grunting and drooling across his back. Just as heavy -- heavier -- than Yahn's loads, absolutely flooding is ass. Wet weight piled up inside him, stinging now, and oozing out around his shaft in messy spurts. Amarant lay there as he finished, hands twisted up in the sheets, fingers clenching. Auver pulled out, stroking himself off with disgusting slurp-squelch, shaft lathered up by the messy slurry filling Amarant's ass, and sprayed thick ropes of come across his back, from his ass all the way up to his hair, dreads practically glued to his back by this point. Come burbled from his ass, a sloppy waterfall that just kept pouring out of him, spilling down his balls and soaking the bedsheets.

Then they switched off again. Auver stood in front of him, leering down. He spat, a mouthful of spit nothing compared to the mess slathered across his face already. "Ready for another load?"

"Yeah," Amarant croaked, throat raw, but still drooling in eagerness, spit slopping down his lower lip. Auver slapped his cock across his face, impact splattering droplets of slime all over, before lining his cock up and ramming it down Amarant's throat again, grabbing his head and mashing it down with enough force there was a crunch in his nose when it met the muscled plane of his crotch.

Auver held Amarant there, limp save for the by-now regular gags, spit oozing in gushes around his stretched lips and splattering on Auver's pubes. He ground Amarant's head down, balls like cannonballs grinding against his chin, dislocated jaw twinging. He growled, fingertips grinding against Amarant's skull, and started thrusting, fucking the whole length of his cock down Amarant's throat, back and forth, using his body like an unresisting rag doll: each thrust ending with him ramming Amarant's head down on his cock. Amarant heaved, cockhead thumping down below his collarbone, spraying a clotted mess of spit and pre across Auver's crotch.

Auver pulled Amarant back off with a gurgle, until his cockhead tore from his bruised, split lips. He held it there just long enough to spit down, saliva spattering equally across Amarant's bruised, ravaged face and the taut dome of his cockhead, and then rammed back, the whole thing vanishing down Amarant's throat with a sickening warble, back and forth. His cock was like a steel rod, ramming its way through the convulsing barriers of his throat, muscles clenching and spasming as his body tried to reject him, spit him out, but he powered through, groaning at the slobbery suction. He tugged on Amarant's chin, one hand going down to feel his throat, wrapped around his trachea and squeezing when he slid down, throat just a thin layer of flesh sheathing his cock, bulging and distending with each thrust, each thrust wearing down the convulsive resistance, until his muscles stopped seizing: broken open, bruised and aching, throat just a gaping tunnel spread open to take his cock.

Auver didn't take long to come. "Fucking take it," he said, growling, and spat down into Amarant's hair even as his muscles started spasming, grip tightening, cockhead throbbing against his collarbone as he came again, keeping Amarant's head rammed tight against his crotch, soaked pubes grinding against Amarant's lips.

His cock pulsed, load added to the churning mess in his gut, fourth in a row straight down into his stomach, shot after shot, stomach gurgling, entire body feverish and shaking.

Dan had come more, but he'd only come once; after four -- and with Yahn standing there, filthy cock in hand, half-dried flakes of come shedding like so much dandruff as he stroked himself, waiting his next turn, it looked like it was gonna be at least five -- his stomach ached, swollen like he'd just eaten a meal.

Auver shuddered, the last dribble of his load painting Amarant's throat, and then he just shoved him back and let him fall back; cock pulling out scum-covered, foot-long cords of ooze stretching out from his cock, slowly spilling down to paint Amarant's face as he lay on his back, gasping. There was none of the resistance of before; throat taut to bursting sheathing his cock: inside he just fell off, pulling off in a single slick motion, the entire length sliding free without a single hitch, fat cockhead not even catching on his lips.

Amarant tried to swallow; his throat was sloshing, clogged, absolutely flooded with come, broken muscles giving no resistance as come gurgled up from his overfilled stomach. It burned, sharp pain as his throat jogged, and still he gagged and spat up, thicker cords of slimy come hanging from his busted mouth, jiggling as they slowly stretched out between his face and Auver's cock, snapping to swing down and splat against his chest.

He tipped his head back, slime pouring to the back of his throat, swallowing -- over and over, Adam's apple jogging up and down -- just stirring it in place, thick ooze crackling in his mouth as he tried to drink it down. The instant he stopped he gagged, coughed, unexpectedly productive: a messy flood of come spraying from his mouth, drooling down his chin. He slobbered, more come squirting up after that, flooding his mouth and pouring steadily over his bruised lips, a solid sheet of come spilling down his face, beard glossy. He tried to breathe, a rattle cut off into a soggy slurp as he sucked come into his airways, mouth open, silently choking on the overflow of drool making its way up his throat in gag after gag. Amarant shuddered, sputtering and drooling, reaching into his open mouth and trying to pull the watery mess of come from his throat, just gagging and splitting across his hands, squeezing down on nothing.

"Looks like we filled him up," Yahn said from behind him, arms suddenly hooking under his, pulling him back against Yahn's chest -- shoulders back, back bent, so his bloated stomach stood out in sharp relief. The swollen skin of his stomach pulled taut, extra pressure on his gut making him spit and gurgle, frothy lines of come pouring continually from his mouth, spilling down his chest in little spatters of heat, face and chest a frothy mess of painted-on scum.

Auver sat forward, hands rough across his swollen gut, pushing down hard -- a wet slorp from deep in Amarant's gut, stomach churning, slime squirting up his ravaged throat. Amarant spat up, breath rattling between heaves, spilling in a frothy mess down his bare chest. Auver squeezed his bloated stomach, another gush of come tearing up his throat, and then Auver cocked his fist and rammed it right into Amarant's gut. The impact sounded like meat being tenderized. Amarant gagged, doubling over -- Yahn let him fall -- and puked hard, clotted come bursting from his mouth in a sludgy gush, splattering across Auver's chest, drooling down in thick rivers.

Auver grabbed his head by the chin, skin slick and dripping, and gripped his neck, lifting him up and squeezing -- airways cut off, each gag producing nothing but a sickening lurch in his gut, wet churning sound gurgling up from his stomach, mouth open and drooling, body thrashing -- until Auver tossed him aside, crashing onto the bed, impact hard all across his side. Auver said something, ended with a laugh, and Amarant heaved and spat, breathless as he vomited up their combined loads, gasping and gurgling, foggy mind only processing sound seconds later: Doesn't look like he can take any more, he'd said.

Amarant went down on all fours, drooling, stomach audibly sloshing as he sunk forward, mess of come and drool spilling from his lips. His stomach rolled sickeningly, a heave wracking his body, gagging once, twice, before he vomited, a frothy slurry of come erupting from his mouth and nose as he heaved, eyes watering, stomach hollowing, arms shuddering, hollow sucking noises gurgling up from his throat as he sprayed the sheets with a flood of frothy come.

Auver said something, noise in his ears, and he rolled his head towards the sound, eyes not focusing, room a blurry mess of interlocking colors. Ooze drooled from his mouth, wet gags running through his body, sputtering as he coughed up whatever was left in his stomach, salt-sour cords of come. His nose was clogged, sinuses throbbing, fluid slowly pouring from his nose in thick cords, eyes watering, stinging in the light. He tried breathing, wet rattle setting off another series of coughs, thick chunks of coagulated come oozing over his teeth, smearing across his beard.

He heaved again, stomach churning and sloshing, only beginning to empty out as he puked up the two's combined loads, body working on reflex: shuddering heaves; body reflexively gasping for breath and sucking half of the thick mess back down his throat, clogging his airways. He gurgled, nothing left in his lungs, grey sparks flashing across his vision. He face was painted grimy off-white, plastered in a thick layer of come, eyes dazed and unfocused. Thick cords of come oozed from his nose and slack mouth, lips bruised brilliantly red.

He gurgled, stomach churning, coughing and coughing until he could suck in a rattling breath, sound coming back to the world with a rush, aware he'd been staring down at the sheets as he heaved. He drew half a breath before he choked, but now he was coughing, each one dredging up sludgy goo from his throat and lungs, coughing and spitting and coughing more, brutalized throat burning with each spasm. He breathed raggedly through his mouth; he snorted, cords of snot and come shooting out, come-clogged sinuses emptying, just more sludge added to the mess across the sheets, thick bubbles of come oozing from his nostrils with each breath. His arms were shaking, trembling just from holding his own weight, and he went down onto his elbows as he heaved again, stomach clenching as he spewed thick come down onto the sheets, backsplash a hundred hot dots speckling across his face and chest, chunky cords of slime smeared across his face, slowly drooling the inch or two down to the bed.

He gasped for breath, each inhale cutting like a knife, come burning down his windpipe in between heaves as he finished emptying his stomach, a thick mound of come piling up over his forearms, what had to be a gallon poured out in a sloppy mess. He looked up, face covered in scum, seeing the two brothers only as green bands of color as he wobbled and toppled, just enough presence of mind to fall to the side instead of directly into the thick pile of come.

He gagged again, a final gush of come flooding up his throat, spraying across the sheets, and lay there for a long moment, just focusing on each breath: the raw pain of each inhale; the rattle in his lungs, the soggy squelch of the sheets against his stomach. Eventually he dragged himself up, dreads plastered in place across his shoulders and back, slowly pulling back from near-unconsciousness.

He sat up on his haunches, snorting, still breathing hard. His nose burned, a hot trickle that might be come or might be blood but was probably both dribbling from his nose, thick flow hitting his busted lip and stinging like mad. He grinned at Auver, head lolling on his neck like a bobble toy, loose. He coughed again, an entire mouthful's worth of slime gurgling up from his abused throat, and he spat it on the sodden sheets, thinned ooze spilling down his chin. He wiped his lip with the back of his hand, just smearing the thick, sloppy layer of come into his burning split lip. "That all you got?" he said, throat rasping, voice hoarse almost to the point of incoherency.

"Oh, I'll show you what we got," Auver said, shoving Amarant down onto his side; the sodden mattress just sunk under him, sludge bubbling out to outline his body. Auver followed him onto the bed, grabbing his hips and pulling his ass back against the root of his cock, the still-hard length dribbling pre down his back. He leaned forward, chest pressed to Amarant's back, grabbed his head and shoved two fingers inside: "Guess your mouth is all used up," he said, twisting his fingers around, knuckle deep, jabbing the back of Amarant's throat just to see him gag and tear up, drool spilling freely down his neck and chest, smearing through the slathered mess of come. His other hand dug into his hip, grinding his cock harder against his ass. "But you got another hole left to wreck, don't you?"

Auver mounted him like an animal, snarling, knees digging into the wrecked mattress, back hunched over him. Practically burying Amarant under his body. His cockhead slid up his crack to the pulsing knot of his hole, digging against it and then slamming forward, burying his entire length in a single brutal thrust.

Auver pinned him to the filthy sheets, left hand burning hot tugging the edge of his hip, canting them up, ass in the air to meet his immense thighs with each thrust, a crack and a sting of pain as he hammered into his guts.

Amarant groaned, back arching, and Auver reached for him, hand on his shoulder sliding forward, Auver's meaty chest pressed against his shoulder blades, right arm wrapped around his neck in a chokehold, pulled back to arch Amarant's back. He jerked backwards, sitting back on his haunches and dragging Amarant with him, hoisting him up by the thighs, hole stretching into a sloppy oval, a frothy mess of come squirting out as Auver dragged Amarant upright. Putting him on display for Yahn, Amarant realized, dazed. His legs were spread, back arched; Yahn could probably see Auver fucking him, every thrust sliding up inside him.

"We opened him up pretty good," Auver said, still thrusting, words punctuated with the wet clap of his thighs against Amarant's ass, fat cheeks compressing as Auver bore down, til his pubes ground against the rim of his hole, coarse and scratchy even soaked with come. "I bet we can both fit." He tugged Amarant's dangling balls out of the way so he could slide his fingers down to his already-stuffed hole, fingernails clawing at the aching flesh, digging underneath the sloppy furl. Amarant groaned, eyes dazed, and Auver wrapped his other arm around his neck, pulling him back in a headlock, teeth clamping down on the meat of his shoulder, biting down so hard he was sure it drew blood, a sharp pain blossoming from the points of pressure, slickness -- drool and blood and come -- spilling down his back, slurping between them as Auver rammed up inside him, meaty chest pressed against his back. Amarant moaned, squirming to get Auver to bite down harder, cock knifing up from his crotch, pubes soaked dark with other peoples' come, a throb running down his chest: from Auver's teeth in his neck straight to his cock, pulsing as Auver practically chewed.

Auver pulled his teeth out, a spray of spit flecking Amarant's shoulder, bite mark throbbing. "See? He loves it."

Yahn stepped forward, cock slinging to the side with his steps, immense balls jostling against his thighs, the motion hypnotizing to Amarant's dazed mind; he found himself staring at Yahn's cock, following it down as Yahn knelt on the edge of the bed -- the entire sodden mattress tilting down towards him as he climbed on. Amarant listed forward, shoulders hitting Yahn's chest before Yahn grabbed him.

One hand slid down his stomach, building up a torrent of sludge that poured across his dick as Yahn gave him a few sloppy strokes, just tugging on his dick, thick ooze bubbling between his fingers. He grabbed Amarant's chin and tipped his head up, walking closer on his knees, cockhead bouncing, slapping against Amarant's stomach and then hitting and staying, sliding up his stomach as Yahn pressed against him, sweaty skin trapping the burning heat billowing up from his overheated body. Yahn leaned down and pressed his mouth to Amarant's, hands tugging his jaw open as he plunged his tongue into his mouth, fat thing filling it entirely. It scraped across his teeth, collecting the sloppy mess of come stuck between his lips and teeth, swiping it up and smearing it back into his mouth, thick salt-sour taste. Yahn moaned loud, rumbling down his chest as he pressed against Amarant's front, sandwiching him between the two.

Yahn broke the kiss, pulled back with their faces tethered together by cords of slime, absolutely coating Amarant's bedraggled face. Yahn waved his hand between them, catching sludge across his fingers, and smeared the tarry mess back across Amarant's neck, slurping under his fingers. His thumb dragged across Auver's bite mark and Amarant shuddered with his entire body, making a sharp groan, and Yahn grinned and leaned forward to bite down right over the bloody mark, Amarant crying out, head thrown back, muscles spasming around Yahn's teeth.

Auver didn't stay still while Yahn moved into place: his huge hands spread across Amarant's ass cheeks, sodden hair grinding as Auver gripped and pulled, fingers shoving into his already-occupied hole, hooking over the swollen mound of his bloated rim and spreading it even wider, bruised flesh swollen into wrinkled slabs spreading out, drawing taut and then slowly tearing wider in jerky, lurching spurts. "C'mon, shove it in," he said to Yahn, and Yahn leered at Amarant, cockhead twitching, batting against Amarant's stomach, gushing pre down his stomach, each minute twitch of his cock a full-on gush of pre, erupting in bigger spurts than Amarant came, a constant burble of watery heat pouring down his body.

Yahn leaned in, cock slipping lower, under Amarant's taut balls, rutting against his slime-slathered skin back between his things until his cockhead made contact, dimpling against the underside of Auver's shaft, domed cockhead digging against Amarant's gaping hole, slurping and gurgling as come poured out of him: Yahn's cockhead shoved against his hole, grinding hard, not quite stretched enough to take it, and pulled back webbed with a frothy mess of their loads, syrupy come from him or his brother dribbling down his shaft. Auver yanked harder, shocks of pain jerking up Amarant's spine as his hole bowed out, Yahn rutting up inside him simply from the sheer gape, cockhead sliding over Auver's fingers as he thrust inside, rather than Amarant's flesh. His cock twitched, a solid lurch against the inside of Amarant's ass, and Amarant just groaned, head hung low, as Yahn slid inside, brutally fat cock boring deeper inside.

Amarant's hole was broken wide, gaping even around their enormous girths, Auver's fingers hooked over the rim of his ass and stretching, but further inside -- Yahn's cockhead butted against the opening of his guts, the two of them shifting, jostling him up and down as they both tried to fit, the opening to his guts spread first by one and then another gigantic, fist-sized cockhead, back and forth, soft sucking noises coming from his broken guts with each trade-off, stomach rising and falling as the two vied for space. Finally they both just shoved, Amarant letting out a pained groan as their cockheads dug against the gaping opening to his guts, four hands across his hips dragging him down, until with a flash of heat so strong it felt like he'd been ripped asunder the two cocks slurped into his guts, twin cockheads pulsing like a second heart beating in the center of his bruised and abused guts as he jerked down, ass swallowing their shafts to the root.

Amarant just groaned soundlessly, mouth hanging open, sharp breathless noises coming from his throat as the two of them hilted inside him, body surrounded on all sides by hot sweaty flesh, teeth and claws ripping at his skin. One of them rolled their hips, Amarant rising like he was riding a wave, cock a sharp spear stabbing against his insides, lewd gurgle coming from his gaping ass as the other drew back, cockhead popping out from his guts only to shove right back in: thrusts, erratic and halting and first but stronger each time, cocks pistoning up and down inside him, their combined girth so gigantic it felt like they were carving out room inside him with each thrust, the swell of his come-swollen gut rising and falling, distended by the sheer size of their cocks.

Amarant whined, sharp high broken noises. He huffed for breath, gasping as the two of them pumped up into him, each thrust dragging out a groan. "Unh... unh... unh," Amarant said, forehead pressed against Yahn's shoulder, eyes closed. "C'mon," he panted. "Come in me."

Auver brayed out a laugh. "Oh I'm gonna pump you full of my load alright." He swiped down, fingers smearing through the mess of come already oozing out of Amarant's gaping hole, shoving two fingers in alongside their cocks, tugging at the rim of his already-stretched hole.

He couldn't say how long they both fucked him, body a limp rag doll, pinned between them as they tore into him, gaping asshole steadily drooling the loads already shot up inside him, lathering into a dense cream clinging to their skin. Auver kept biting him, shoulders a mess of bloody wounds, laughing with his teeth sunk into his flesh as Amarant groaned each time, cock stubbornly hard, smacking against Yahn's stomach.

They came like a wash, grunts and roars mixing in with the sick schlop of their thrusts, already-flooded guts aching as they pumped another few quarts of come into him, sloppily pouring out around their churning cocks. Maybe they came more than once; Amarant was only blearily aware, guts cramped, body exhausted, mostly unconscious.

Eventually there was a wet, meaty schlop as Auver's cock pulled from Amarant's ravaged hole, ring spasming as his fat cockhead caught for a fraction of a second, before releasing him with a flood of slime, busted ring slurping inside-out without any resistance, a lurch high up in his guts as they spooled out, bloated red slabs of meat piling up on top of each other between his cheeks. Yahn had pulled out already, at some point, just cold air in front of him -- Amarant cracked his eyes open, dim candlelight too bright, and caught him watching, seated on the only chair in the room, tugging his cock lazily. Just keeping himself hard.

"I think my brother wants his turn," Auver said, voice loud, teeth scraping the shell of his ear. "Why don't you go over there and sit on his dick?"

Amarant's muscles screamed as he moved, arms and legs like lead weights, shoulders bloody. He was still bleeding from all the bite marks, smeared streaks of red down his chest; he couldn't have been unconscious long. He crawled to the edge of the bed, leaning down, and the shift of weight when his dreads spilled from his back almost sent him hurtling to the floor. His legs gave out under him the second they tried to bear his weight. He collapsed onto the floor in a messy puddle, panting, thighs spasming wildly.

Auver grabbed him by the neck, suddenly there, and dragged him to his feet, shoving him forward for a few tottering steps before he collapsed again. Something wet splattered across his face, and Amarant raised his bleary eyes: he was just in front of Yahn's seat, face-to-face with his cock, hand stroking slowly. Pre burbled from the tip, winding its way down the shaft, filthy from a half-dozen orgasms, shaft given a glazed shine by all the layers of half-dried come worked into the skin. Amarant groaned, sinking the inch forward it took, nuzzling along Yahn's shaft, tongue lapping at the base, soaked in salt -- sweat and come, taste so strong it stung, rancid in his abused throat.

Yahn laughed, one that turned into a groan when Amarant lapped up the underside of his cock, over his stroking fingers, and took the head into his mouth, catching the messy spurt of pre across his tongue.

Auver, though, wasn't satisfied -- he grabbed Amarant under his arms and hauled him to his feet. "Ride it," Auver said and shoved him against Yahn's chest, half-stumbling as the two positioned him like a life-sized doll, no resistance from his exhausted body as they settled him on Yahn's cock, the whole thing sinking into his broken ass effortlessly.

Amarant's exhausted thighs screamed as he struggled to lift himself even an inch up, hole and guts spasming around Yahn's cock. It twitched inside him, wet streamers of pre spilling hot down the walls of his ass, building up against the spasming muscle of his asshole, eventually pressure bursting out, slurping and squelching as it flooded out down Yahn's balls, thick dollops of come hitting the floorboards with a messy patter of splats. Yahn ground into him, not thrusting exactly, hips moving slow, practically just stirring his cock inside Amarant's wrecked ass, exhausted body barely capable of staying upright.

Yahn laughed a little, and pulled Amarant close, skin audibly slurping when their chests touched, a wet crackle. "Looks like I'm gonna have to do all the work," he said, hands already creeping down his sides, and pressed a kiss to Amarant's filthy mouth, licking up the mess of the combined loads still drooling from his throat, coughed up in globs, thinned by his drool.

Yahn grabbed Amarant's cheeks, fingers digging into his cleft, and bodily lifted Amarant up off his cock -- body just spilling forward, dead weight, thrown over Yahn's shoulder as he lifted Amarant up. His cock pulled out with a pop, a thick ooze of come pouring out of him, and Yahn worked his fingers inside. His ass was well and truly swollen, worked-open hole an immense, thick band of bruised muscle. Yahn hooked his fingers around it and pulled, stretching Amarant to gaping, cold air billowing up inside him, come gurgling out, coating Yahn's hands in a slick lather, sloppy against his palms.

There was a shift in the air, hot air hitting the exposed walls of his ass, and Amarant didn't realize what was happening until Yahn's cockhead knocked against the walls of his ass: his hole was stretched so wide Yahn had lowered him down onto his cock and it hadn't even touched him until he was halfway inside. His fingers clenched, digging into the puffy flesh of his ass, reaching deeper for a better hold: six fingers buried knuckle deep in his ass, pinkies and thumbs rubbing against the outer ridge, all Amarant's weight carried on his palms, spread over the cheeks of his ass. His fingers pulled him wider, shocky-feeling sparks of pain as his broken asshole gaped wider, spread to the utmost. Yahn's cock knocked around, head sliding back and forth across the bottom of his ass, the rest of it only rarely twitching and pressing against his flesh, ass all but hollowed out. Yahn found the entrance to his guts, a second clenching hole deep inside him -- what sufficed for his asshole now, given how broken his actual asshole was. Yahn jerked Amarant down, cock popping into his guts with a squelch, peristaltic muscle convolutions milking the shaft. "Yeah," he said, starting to thrust, cockhead lurching back and forth into his guts. "That's more like it." He bottomed out, pubes grinding against Amarant's bruised flesh, half his cock rammed up into his guts. There was a pop when he pulled out, cockhead catching on the broken entrance to his guts, a plume of hot come just splattering across the walls of his ass, slowly dribbling down.

Yahn kept him steady, Amarant sprawled boneless across his shoulder, ass an open socket for his cock. He rammed inside, guts gurgling and slurping, thick slime oozing from his ass continually, smearing in scummy lines over Yahn's hands, buried to the knuckle in his busted ass.

His thrusts started slow and got fast, jarring slaps that ground his pubes against the ravaged flesh of Amarant's hole, balls jostling against the puffy flesh like he was trying to shove them up inside him too. Amarant's body jerked with each thrust, just dead weight, the impact shoving him a half-inch higher sprawled over Yahn's shoulder, only to sink back down when he withdrew. Yahn groaned, cock twitching and spurting, fingers clenching, as he found his rhythm and started jackhammering away, cockhead ramming into his guts and jerking back out with a pop, over and over. The entrance to his guts ached, taking the full brunt of each thrust. Amarant could feel it start to gape, blossoming open. Yahn's cockhead caught on the withdraw, the stretched flesh of his guts clinging tight around the huge cockhead. Yahn ripped out with a sharp yank that made Amarant's guts lurch sickeningly, squirming in his stomach. Each time there was less resistance, Yahn's cockhead coming out easier.

Amarant gasped, stomach hollowing, and with each breath his guts shifted, jerked downwards with thrust after thrust, abused flesh slowly sliding over itself. It was a heat descending, his own guts folding in on themselves, gurgling and churning. There was a moment of contact, flattened guts spilling against the clenching muscle opening into his ass, a sloppy blossom of heat settling in his belly -- and then Yahn rammed in; pulled out with a rubbery pop, and with a final lurch his guts came with it, slithering inside him like a snake.

Yahn jerked back, tempo staggering, and laughed: half his cock still embedded in the prolapsed furl of Amarant's guts, a messy pile of meat bulging out from his body, the hairs on his ass scratchy against the raw flesh of his guts. It pulsed, throbbing in time with his heartbeat, abused muscles inside him tugging up, trying vainly to suck his guts back into their proper place. His stomach felt oddly hollow, less resistance, and his experimental, fluttering clench of his abs just shoved his guts further out of place, a meaty slurp as the bloated flower of his prolapsed ass unfurled another inch.

Yahn shifted Amarant's weight to one hand, the other pulling from inside his pulped guts, stroking the lumpy red rose of his guts down to the center, where the unfurled bud was wrapped around his cock. He pushed his fingers inside, peeling Amarant's guts off his cock -- coming free with a spray of ooze, gushing from Amarant's broken ass. Yahn felt across the broad mass of his prolapse, formerly-internal smooth muscles pulsing and shuddering, squirming and fluttering against his palm, drooling down his wrist.

"I think we broke him." His fingers probed the edge of the swell, sliding over lumpy folds til he found the center of the crater, the inside-out passage running up inside. He shoved deeper, feeling through the mess of bruised flesh until he found the nut of Amarant's prostate, ground against it with two fingertips, hard. Amarant let out an exhausted groan, body spasming, cock somehow finding a remaining reservoir; pumping out something thin and watery against Yahn's chest in a few agonizing spasms.

"That part still works," he observed.

He knocked his cockhead against Amarant's spread rosebud, wet slurps as the flesh parted, and he shoved back inside, thrusting experimentally. "No good," he said, cock jerking out in a spray of come. "Man, we really broke you open, huh?" Amarant's response was just a groan, hands loosely clenching the back of the chair.

He slid his hand down his slimy shaft, probing into Amarant's prolapse, fingers scissoring open. He thrust back inside, and then wrapped his fat fingers around the stubby coil of Amarant's guts, squeezing until he could feel the bar of his cock through the wet mess of pulpy flesh. He spread his fingers, squeezing harder -- thick purple-red swells between his fingers, bloating out as his fist clenched. Yahn was practically jerking himself off, using Amarant's guts as a sleeve -- thumb digging through the thick layer of flesh to grind against the underside of his cockhead, and he threw his head back and groaned, a pulse of pre gushing across Amarant's ravaged flesh, stinging as it slowly trickled through the sloppy folds of his prolapsed ass. "Fuck, that's better," he said, thrusting again, squeezing hard, letting Amarant list to the side of he half stroked himself off, jerking his cock up through the lumpy swell of flesh oozing out of him, hilting with half his cock shoved inside Amarant's body cavity at least, the rest jammed into his prolapsed guts.

After that it didn't lake long. Yahn came with a groan, and even though Amarant had lost count of how many times he'd shot off it was as copious as ever, a soggy flood gurgling up in his wrecked guts, stinging and burning now, thick slimy ropes oozing out from the folds of his prolapse as Yahn spend his latest load, pulling out to paint ropes across his ass, shockingly hot where it landed in stripes across his spilled guts. They were practically tethered together, thick slimy cords from this load and all the others oozing from Amarant's ass, forming ropes two fingers thick, webbed all across their thighs. He pulled out of Amarant -- hand wrapped around his prolapse to make sure he didn't just drag Amarant's guts two feet out of his body -- and stepped back, leaving Amarant lying across the bed, plastered head to toe in come, a wet outline around his body where the weight of his body forced come out of the saturated mattress.

"We really did a number on you, huh?" Yahn said, leaning in to run a hand up his thigh, over the blossoming bruises across his hip, gingerly reaching back to touch the pulpy flesh of his guts. He sounded a little ashamed, more proud. "You got a nice fucking ass though."

Auver stepped closer, looking down, and then laughed, short and mean, and reached down into the furl of Amarant's broken ass. "There's my ring," he said, and tugged it out of him, stuck between two folds of flesh. Then he reached inside, probing -- got the other one, too, and when he pulled back it was with another sickening lurch, more flesh spilling out of him, blossom of his guts heavy bearing down against his ass. Auver smeared his palm over the distended mess of flesh between his cheeks, fingers playing over the inside-out flesh of his hole, wrinkled flesh spasming and twitching, muscles no longer in a position where it made sense for them to clench. Auver hooked his fingers into the gape of his ass and spread him open, guts unfurling, spread open for anyone to see all the way up inside him if they wanted. The slurry of come up inside him sluggishly poured out, winding down deeper inside, forming a thick, sludgy lake inside his ass and only slowly overflowing to ooze from the raw, pulpy mess of his hole.

"Guess we can't get much more use out of him," Yahn said, and he sounded honestly sad about it, looking down at Amarant panting hoarsely on the bed, stomach unnaturally hollowed, prolapse like a second head of wrinkled red flesh spilling between his cheeks, flesh shuddering and sliding over itself as his body vainly tried to pull itself back into its proper shape. "What a good fuckin' lay, though." He slapped Amarant's ass. "Definitely check you out next time we're in town." He tried cramming his limp cock back in his pants, an obscene lump running down his thigh, balls a lopsided lump too big to fit in the crotch. "You said we should get out of town...?" he said, turning to Auver, who was dragging his pants on, shirt unbuttoned.

Auver looked over at Amarant, smirk on his face. "Yeah. Hear there's somebody out hunting for us."

Yahn took a few steps to the door, looking across the room like he was trying to see if he forgot anything. "We done?"

"Yeah, we're done," Auver said over his shoulder, wiping his cock across Amarant's hairy ass cheek as he hiked up his pants, smearing the dregs of his load on top of the crusted, tacky layers drying there. "Be out in a second."

With Yahn out of the room Auver just leered down at Amarant's wrecked form for a moment. He reached down and shoved Amarant onto his back, grinning more as Amarant shuddered and writhed, hips jerking up to keep the swollen furl of his prolapse from getting crushed under his weight. He hocked and spat down, spit flecking across Amarant's already-filthy skin. "See what kinda bounty hunter you are now, huh?" Auver snorted and turned to the door. "You're a good whore at least."

Amarant pushed himself up. His arms hurt, just as exhausted as the rest of him, but he still had enough in him for that at least. His shoulders were all torn and bloody, teeth marks all across the slope of his shoulders and up his neck; pushing himself made all the wounds scream. He tensed his back, shifting his legs, and the throb there ran down his spine as hot sparks, concentrating on the broken furl of his prolapsed hole, red flesh peeking out between his cheeks. "Don't talk shit you can't cash," he said. It took a second for his throat to work -- he warbled, strangled-cat noises coming out. He spat, spitting grimy grey-yellow, threaded through with pink, onto the sheets. Auver had frozen in place; he turned around slowly.

Amarant grinned: split lip tearing wider, a hot spill of blood slowly dripping down into his beard. "You don't think I coulda taken you, again? If I wanted I coulda kicked your asses from here to the bounty office." He reached up -- wobbling with only one arm to support him -- and felt his nose: not broken, but just. It hurt all across his cheeks; he probably had quite the bruise blossoming. The bruises on his hips were already vivid, huge blue-purple hand prints; there were teeth marks all over his shoulders where they weren't straight-up wounds. He licked his lips, tasting blood and come. "Don't think you're so hot just 'cause I wanted to use your dick."

Auver's brow dropped, and he bared his teeth in an angry sneer, leaning forward to glower down at Amarant -- then he threw his shoulders back and laughed, a donkey-bray kind of affair. "Is that so?" He reached forward, grabbing a hank of Amarant's dreads and tugging him forward, his exhausted body just going without any resistance, back bending in a sharp arch.

"You feel like a rematch anytime soon?" His other hand rammed into Amarant's ass, punching through his prolapsed ring, fingers skewering deep: slamming into Amarant's broken ass up to the elbow in a single savage drive. He grabbed, wrapping a fistful of Amarant's pulped guts around his hand, and drew back and forth, punch-fucking him as he rearranged his intestines, gut bulging grotesquely, only to hollow out unnaturally as he pulled feet of guts out with his clenched fist. "How's that working?" he growled against Amarant's shoulder, body tensed right as he rammed forward, punching deep into Amarant's guts with the entire force of his body.

Amarant's entire body convulsed, eyes rolling up into his head, and he came again, just a few wet dribbles oozing onto the sodden sheets, hoarse rasps filling the room. Auver laughed again and let him drop, fist opening, pulling out with a wrench -- his hole trying to squeeze shut, just pushing out pulse after pulse of come. He smacked Amarant's ass, hard enough his body rocked, and then again with his nails out, raking a ragged line across his hairy cheeks, sharp lines of pain following in the wake, a stinging wet trickle that could be blood or could just be more come sluicing out of him.

"But you know what? Good to know. That you're more interested in taking a ride on our dicks than turning in our bounty." Auver leered, hands tugging his limp cock, shifting it to hang to the left, turgid weight hitting his thigh with a solid thwack, finally tucking it back into his pants and tying his impromptu belt -- the rope Amarant'd used to bind his arms. "Anytime you wanna use our dicks, feel free. Next time we're in town, we'll fuck you again, how about that?"

Amarant flopped over, glowering up at Auver. "Don't push your luck."

Auver laughed again. "I think I oughtta be the one saying that to you," he said, reaching forward to run his fingers over the ring of purpling bruises all around Amarant's neck, overlapped hand prints. He pushed none too gently on Amarant's windpipe, grinning as his labored breath turned into a rattle. "You're into some nasty shit, huh?" He shoved Amarant back abruptly, letting him land with a wet thud on the saturated bed. "Guess that works out, 'cause there's all sorts of nasty shit I'm gonna do to you next time."

There were footsteps as he turned away; a wave Amarant caught out of the corner of his eye. "See you then," Auver said, and shut the door behind him.

Honestly. Amarant would be looking forward to it. Too bad they weren't staying. Fuck, it was gonna be nothing but fantasies for the next fucking month, wasn't it? Just his luck.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

I'm sorry that this comment is so very 'I buy playboy for the articles'.

But I really liked your commentary and it resonated alot with the kind of desire to explore the grey areas and borderlines of issues in fiction - which I think has persisted despite the increasing sociopolitical involvement and moralisation happening in fandom.

Anyhow I was searching around for a link for 'jenna moran's gothic horror rpg supplement' and I'm having trouble finding it around this dw, and google search isn't helping much either. So I was kinda hoping you could link me or otherwise help find it, if that's not a problem.

Thanks & Best wishes~

[xax]

oh hello! trust me, a comment like this is way better than the ones that go "o mmm that was hot", which is frequently how comments on my porn go. :V

this dw is a fairly recent development, as far as my-blogs go; i liked it back on my tumblr. i'll actually excerpt the, uh, single paragraph i was thinking of when i wrote that bit. this might not be as relevant as i made it seem; it's really just an aside mentioned deep in the guts of one of the example scenarios that is mostly about how a gm manages plotting:

Gayle thinks about all this. She has to decide whether Subject H can change his condition simply from hearing about the situation, and also how to make it interesting. She decides that since Dr. Grey is at the edge of insanity just from his work so far, that that work is certainly sufficient to overcome the effects of faith distilled from addled dead rats. So Subject H's condition changes. But to what? If he turns into a normal person or zombie, then not much of interest happens. If he fakes being a normal person, then strikes, that's potentially of interest. But Gayle decides that the best way to maintain tension is not to answer whether this action is right or wrong, which means a morally ambiguous transformation.

there's, uh, context to explain the bit about the dead rats.

specifically about writing... i mean, people will always have weird id-driven impulses, and i think on the whole it's better to talk & write about them than try to sublimate every single potentially-harmful drive into something squeaky clean. people are messy, and i don't really think the "your fav is problematic" kind of moralizing at people for having bad desires helps anyone. which isn't to say that some moderation is unreasonable, just that... i see a lot of people at extremes, either going "there is literally no material it is unethical to write and distribute" or "anything with a hint of objectionable content should be self-censored and never be spread where it might harm impressionable minds", and regrettably few people talking about the subject as the rather complex thing that it actually is.

[(Anonymous)]

Oh, lol. I'm actually the person that commented a couple days ago on your soul nomad porn on ao3. I've never written porn, at least not anything that I intended to complete or post/publish, so I don't know what kind of response writers want/expect on their work. I'm sure you're aware of this, but from the reader perspective it's kind of hard to think of a response beyond 'I liked the thing' :B Um... 'You seem to have a good grasp on what details to include in your porn and which to leave out'? 'I was working on something for this series and was glad I wasn't the only one thinking that a half-cow race would have bizarre genitalia'?
Well, cheers! Here's hoping I didn't come off too creepy or insecure.

And thanks so much for the link. Yeah, maybe no so relevant, but definitely looks interesting, a la academia-lite. And game design isn't something I'm very knowledgeable in so I look forward to educating myself.

And, yes. I think 'your fav is problematic' can be useful as a general acknowledgement that we often enjoy things in fiction that aren't okay in real life, and it's good to be self-aware. But attempts to police what people are writing, or thinking about what they're writing, often seems condescending at best and anti-free speech at worst. I guess? It's complicated, as you said.
But I know, personally, if my fav is not already problematic, I will probably make them problematic. Exploring flaws in character and being made to question situations are a huge part of what makes fiction interesting.

Thanks again!
~DeLurk