A long, deep shiver went down Tiiran’s back. “Nikoly, move closer to Orin.”
Nikoly shifted to erase the small distance, repositioning himself to kneel between Orin’s knees, Tiiran right next to him on one side. Tiiran wasn’t sure if he should move away, but Orin hadn’t told him to, and anyway, he didn’t want to. He was tense in a pleasant-unpleasant way, jitters he thought might be anticipation, much like how it had felt to be naked across Orin’s lap. Nikoly could not be much better.
“Orin,” Tiiran whined, although the waiting might be part of Orin’s plan.
Nikoly bowed his head. “I haven’t ever with an audience,” he admitted in a rush, “except for the person I was pleasing. I know you’ll be kind, but I thought you should know before we begin.”
Tiiran slipped a hand to his chest, gripping Nikoly’s shirt as if that would help steady him.
Orin let go of Tiiran to curl his fingers beneath Nikoly’s chin. He swept his thumb over Nikoly’s mouth.
“Has Tiiran been imagining you at bed-parties?” Orin wondered, almost idly. “If you were, they didn’t give you what you needed, did they?”
Nikoly was breathless. “No.”
“No, Orin,” Tiiran corrected. Nikoly’s eyes dipped closed for a moment, then he licked his lip as well as the tip of Orin’s thumb.
“No, Orin,” Nikoly repeated. Tiiran felt a brief sting of envy at the ease with which he obeyed, but it was already fading. When Orin reached for his belt, Tiiran forgot it entirely.
Orin took out his cock so slowly Tiiran thought he was teasing too, in his way. He would have said something on it if he’d still had his voice, or a single thought that wasn’t about his mouth, suddenly too empty, too wet with spit. Beside him, Nikoly made a noise in his throat, then controlled it. Tiiran wasn’t the only one struggling at the sight of Orin’s bare cock. Orin was so much bigger than Tiiran in all ways. It was no wonder those other outguards spoke of him as they did.
Well, they couldn’t have him anymore.
“Ours,” Tiiran snarled around the spit pooling in his mouth. “You’re ours.” Orin would take other ducklings at his peril, Tiiran decided, releasing Nikoly’s shirt so he could grip his shoulder. The wet, red head of Orin’s cock filled his vision, that was, until Orin spoke, familiarly and wonderfully mean.
“Show him, pup. Do a good job.”
He didn’t even touch himself, legs spread, cock stiff and pointed upward until Nikoly made an eager sound and surged forward.
There, Nikoly stopped himself again, glancing to Tiiran. Tiiran spent several beats worried over reassuring him—or in truth, keeping himself from snarling for Nikoly to suck already—until his pounding, slow thoughts caught up to his intent.
“I’m watching,” he answered Nikoly’s silence as patiently as he could, as though he wasn’t already stretching forward to watch the flowers and vines of Nikoly’s fingers curl around Orin’s cock.
Orin made a small sound and leaned back, apparently content to let Nikoly work, but Tiiran didn’t so much as twitch his chin up to glance to him, his attention entirely on slender fingers and what—to Tiiran’s eyes—was an astonishingly thick cock, flushed and weeping, and Nikoly’s lips opening wide to let that cock in.
Tiiran didn’t breathe. His every muscle was locked. Words left him as a whine, low and pleading.
Nikoly drew back slowly, his tongue flicking under the head.
Tiiran broke the trail of spittle leading from Orin’s cock to Nikoly’s lips with his fingers, then his mouth, pushing in to find Nikoly’s lips and lick his way in. “Beautiful,” he praised, barely a whisper, turning to his head lick Orin’s cock too, then Nikoly’s mouth again.
Orin’s fingers tangled in his hair but didn’t pull. His approval was better than any fae blessing would ever be. Tiiran raised his head to look at him, Nikoly returning to his work less than a handsbreadth from his face, the sounds more than Tiiran could have imagined.
“Orin.” Tiiran put his cheek to Orin’s knee, scarcely aware of his body except for the slow heat in his blood and the ache in his cock, although he couldn’t bother touching himself. His voice was strange. “Orin.”
Orin gave one single, small push to the back of his head and Tiiran was practically climbing Orin’s knee to lean in to taste the shaft not yet in Nikoly’s lovely mouth, then edging in to press his tongue to the patch of hair on Orin’s lower stomach, then his balls.
Orin made another sound, fingers loose in Tiiran’s hair, then tight. His other arm was raised. Tiiran hoped he had Nikoly by the hair as well. He wasn’t sure if he should be embarrassed by that thought, but also didn’t care, face burning, mouth wet and growing wetter with every swipe of his tongue.
He moved up, nearly meeting Nikoly’s mouth, and then following as Nikoly pulled back so he could kiss him again, sweet Nikoly with the taste of Orin’s cock in his mouth. Nikoly whimpered for Tiiran, for the kisses, or the press of Tiiran’s hand at his nape, or Tiiran murmuring, “Good,” over and over before directing him back to Orin.
Nikoly took more on the next pass, swallowing hard. His hands were down now, clutching the fabric of his pants over his knees. He was hard, Tiiran noticed with distracted hunger. Hedidlike to be put to use.
“Look at you,” Tiiran told him, swallowing nearly as much as Nikoly was, wiping and then licking the spit from his chin, kissing the wetness at his eyelashes as they clumped together. “So pretty. So useful. I’ll never be as good at this as you. Orin, tell him.”
“Good boy,” Orin responded, more of a purr than a rumble. His hand was in Nikoly’s hair, gentle as he wasn’t for Tiiran, but not relaxed, not about to let go.
“Orin,” Tiiran heard himself again, already inching forward to lick what he was allowed to reach, jolting when Nikoly pulled off Orin with a messy slurp and turned to him.
