Chapter Text
Day 26: Cuckoldry
Freed x Sting x Rogue
"Fuck, Freed," Sting panted, parting his legs on instinct as Freed slid a hand down his pants, grabbing his cock and stroking it slowly. "That feels so fucking good."
Freed grinned at the needy praise, kissing Sting's neck as he massaged the man's cock. They were spread out on a bed in the playroom, the lighting soft and the curtains surrounding them as if to tighten the space. They were both fully dressed, kiss drunk and needy for more. Sting sat between Freed's parted legs; eyes closed with abject pleasure as he pushed against Freed and surrendered to his touch. He was so reactive and looked so beautiful under Freed's hands.
Almost as beautiful, Freed thought, as his watching, scowling, angry husband.
Rogue sat about six foot from the bed, clutching the arms and looking utterly furious. He was naked and watching the show before him intensely. His cock was hard as rock, not that it could do anything. Rogue couldn't do anything at all. He couldn't touch himself. He couldn't stand. He couldn't stop them. Anything other than sitting and watching would set off the enchantments in the chair, and both Sting and Rogue would be teleported to their shared bedroom, their session over.
A cuck, in his enchanted throne, forced to watch as his husband fucked a better man than him. It was a fantasy Freed himself had often wanted, and when the twin slayers had come to him and mentioned their desires, Freed had agreed immediately.
Glancing at Rogue's look of possessive fury, Freed felt alive!
With skillful hands, Freed pulled Sting's dick out and began to stroke it up and down, holding Sting close so he could feel his thinly muscled body pressed tight against him. He took a long inhale of Sting's scent, knowing dragon slayers lived for their partner's smell and hated to share it. True enough, he saw shadows flickering from Rogue's hands, unintentional magic leaking from him.
Maybe Sting saw it too, because he turned slightly, cupped Freed's cheek and dragged him into a slow, tender kiss. Freed happily returned it, Sting's soft lips a pleasure to feel against his own. Sting kissed majestically, and Freed slowly pushed his tongue in, deepening it and dragging a moan out from him.
Freed shifted their position as they kissed, gently pushing Sting so that he was spread out on the bed. He made it so Sting's head rested right at the foot of the bed, as close to Rogue as he could be. Freed pulled back, Sting opened his eyes, and he and his husband shared a look. With a cheeky grin, Sting wrapped his arms around Freed's neck, yanked him down so he laid flush against him, rolled his hips, and kissed him again.
Forgetting Rogue so he could fully enjoy the man below him, Freed closed his eyes and started to lick and suck at Sting's neck, hands roaming up Sting's shirt and pushing it up. His hard abs and tight chest shivered under Freed's cold hands, and Sting let a low moan out as he pulled at Freed's hair to hold him closer.
Freed pulled Sting up enough to throw his shirt to the side, and made quick work of his own. Sting looked up at him with a gasp, his hands running down the ridges of Freed's abs with near reverence.
"Damn," Sting whispered, grin wide. "You've got some muscles under all those layers, ain't ya! This is hot as fuck." He ran his hands over Freed's arms, and squeezed his bicep. Freed shamelessly flexed it. "This is gonna be so good. Been way too long since I've had a man who can treat me right."
Rouge huffed, "For fucks sake."
"Anything to say, Cuck?" Sting taunted, throwing his head back to look right at Rogue. Rogue said nothing, and Sting laughed. "That's what I thought. Now," he turned back to Freed and smiled at him provocatively, "fuck me like he never could."
Freed grinned. "With pleasure."
Quickly, Freed undid Sting's fly and dragged his pants down, taking his skimpy little briefs with them. He kneeled over Sting, brought his hands to his own pants, and had Sting undo them for him. Sting pulled Freed's cock out, actually licked his lips, and whispered softly. "Fuck yeah."
After ridding himself of his pants, Freed crawled on top of Sting and started to kiss his neck again. Sting threw his head back, no doubt far enough that he could taunt and antagonise his husband from his chair. It was cute how much he wanted to include his husband in this, and it was even cuter that Rogue happened to be a self confessed cuck with jealousy and possessiveness issues.
Freed reached for a prepped tube of lube, and generously covered his fingers with it. Sting saw, and raised his legs to set them apart. Freed lay between them, still kissing Sting's neck. He toyed with Sting's hole, relishing the little gasp he got, before pushing in his index finger in. Sting pushed down, taking it all much faster than Freed intended, and Freed had to grin as he crooked it and grazed the mans prostate.
Pressing kisses down Sting's strong chest and stomach, Freed filled Sting with another finger, then another, then another. He stretched them out, loving how Jet was grinding and riding them. He was receptive and loud and everything Freed loved in a man. He might have to take him for himself, Rogue be damned.
"Ready for me, little Gecko?" Freed asked, using what was apparently Rogue's nickname for Sting. The little shot of shadows that flew off the cuck chair made it clear how disapproving he was.
"Aw yeah," Sting slurred, eyes a little hazy. "Fuck me good. Been way too long."
Another burst of shadows shot out from Rogue, but nowhere near the bed. Freed slicked his cock up with his lubed hands, then ran his hands down Sting's thighs, parting them as wide as he pleased. Sting was pretty flexible, and happy to be moved around under Freed's control. He lined his cock up with Sting's hole, teased him for a moment by resting it against his breech, then slowly started to push in.
Sting all but melted into the sheets, head rolling back and moan coming slow and needy. Freed took his sweet time filling Sting, rolling his hips in little juts, getting deeper every time. Inch by inch, Sting took him easily and greedily.
"You're so big," Sting groaned. "So much bigger than my husband."
"Subtle, Sting. Really subtle." Rogue muttered.
Sting just pushed on, "Been needing a big, fat cock to rip me open like this for so long."
It was a line so ridiculously pornographic and absurd that Freed had to laugh. He lowered himself down so his chest was pressed against Sting's and let his lover turn the laugh into a kiss. Sting pulled at his hair, held him close, and pushed down as if he could hope to take Freed's cock even deeper. It wasn't possible, but Freed loved the attempt.
After making sure Sting was as drunk on the kiss as he was on Freed's cock, Freed pulled back and started to roll his hips. Slowly, almost tenderly, he began to push in and out of Sting. He fucked like he loved the man, pressing kisses over his sweating, hot body as he breached him open again and again. Sting pushed down in time with him, moaning and writhing loud and unashamed. Sting started to jerk his cock in time with Freed's thrusts, squeezing his balls and bucking his hips.
Freed let his eyes clench shut, the heat of a well muscled ass taking him tight driving him mad. He so often fucked fast and brutal, so being tender and soft with a man in play was a rare, toe-curling treat. And Sting reacted perfectly. Loud and needy and so hot it could hardly be put into words.
"I'm close, baby," Sting moaned, hand pumping his dick so fast it blurred. "Take me there. Know you can do it."
"Hands off. I'm fucking it out of you."
Sting moaned, and dropped his dick before he came. Freed sped up, hammering into Sting's prostate again and again. He watched as Sting lost himself to the moment. He rutted into Freed, rolled back into the bed and writhed, and grinned dazedly at his raging, but sitting husband. The pure contentment of his man, against his husbands fury, drove Freed wild. He pushed in hard and fast, pushing endlessly against Sting's prostate as he moaned.
In tandem, it became too much. Sting erupted, rutting madly and erratically into Freed's cock as they both came. A huge load of cum splattered over them both, and Freed pressed their bodies together to kiss him again. Their bodies were slick with sweat and cum, and the feeling was magical.
"So good," Sting panted, breaking their kiss. "Best cock I ever took."
And then, it became too much for Rogue. He stood up from the chair, stormed over to them, and both men fizzled into runes before he got to the bed. Suddenly alone in the bed, cum pooling in the sheets, Freed let out a shaky laugh. No matter how good a fuck Freed had just been, he had no doubt Rogue would be ten times better, fuelled by possessive jealousy.
Sting was certain to have the best night of his life, and Freed could only hope he was called on to help repeat it one day,