Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The pleads for 'please' almost slipped from Kincaid's lips. Keyword, almost. He had a little dignity left in him still.

Splayed across the front desk, fully clothed against the pale wood and obediently spreading his legs for his employer before him, Kincaid didn't beg. He just whined as Angelus' hand resumed its slow, languid, painfully slow up–and–down movement. Angelus was standing as prim as ever, unbothered as he looked over a paper — something from the business, Kincaid couldn't see from where he lay — and spared not even a passing glance in his assistant's direction.

The heat built in the human's belly once more, rising slowly but surely, ever higher. His eyes trailed down to watch the slow movement of Angelus' hand, hypnotised by the gold band around the middle finger, the faint tattoo on the pinky, the cruel squeeze of the pads of his palm against his aching cock. Kincaid whined, high and needy in his throat, eyes fluttering but never shutting as he watched. All throughout, Angelus made no move to show he cared at all, gingerly re–reading the paper for what must have been the 50th time since Kincaid had got there.

Kincaid's whimpers rose in volume, turning into o–mouthed moans as the heat tingled and spread across his hips, down his legs, down to his toes still contained in his leather loafers, at his imminent climax. He made the mistake of bucking his hips, just once, meekly into the hand that feeds — and Angelus stopped. He didn't move; only dragged his gaze from the damn paper and looked over his assistant, scrutinising him beneath a golden gaze.

"No— No, come on—" Kincaid whined, despair blooming in his chest as he felt the heat dissipate. Yet again, he lay helpless as his orgasm neared and waned, fading from his senses as Angelus held his cock tight, staring down at the offending thing, unblinking. Kincaid threw his head back, almost sobbing.

"You— come on, you've been going over the same tax report for—! for…"

"Twenty–seven minutes, Mr. Kincaid." Angelus' voice finally cut through the silence. Smooth and practised and so painfully Northern English, but finally hearing it was like a lifeline for Kincaid. Warm tears threatened to spill from the secretary's eyes.

"Twenty— twenty–fucking–seven minutes, you've been reading that fucking thing, please—"

"What was that?" Angelus purred, face held in stony cruelty. Kincaid's wet eyes rose to meet him, and his face burned in embarrassment. He knew had to yield; he was no match for the vampyre.

"… Please. I want to come." The words came out small, humiliating him to his very core. To his utter dismay, Angelus only raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Do you? Poor thing. How horrible your predicament must be." His voice was flat, degrading the man even further. Kincaid bit his lip, a single shy tear slipping down his cheek and towards his ear. Angelus cooed, putting the tax record away and reaching his free hand to wipe at the trail of wetness with his free hand; the tingle of his carefully manicured claws against his cheek and down the shell of his ear almost made Kincaid cry out loud.

"Poor thing. My poor little secretary." The vampyre's tone was so patronising, dripping with implication, demeaning and cold. Kincaid knew exactly what he was thinking in his head, thanks to the damn vampyre projecting those chiding thoughts directly into his mind; Angelus' voice rung out with a quiet echo. 'Dumb little thing. I expected better from you. If you can't seem to behave, I'll have to think of something worse for you. Maybe I should leave you in charge of the toiletries again.'

And yet when Angelus spoke again, his tone was still as neutral as before, almost painfully merciful compared to the inside of Kincaid's head. "That's quite alright. Come now, you can handle a little more — just fifteen more minutes."

"No— no, please, Angelus—"

"Wrong answer."

"Ainesh—!"

"Wrong again, jaan."

Kincaid whimpered. His chest trembled at the weight of the golden gaze on him, and the words left him in a pathetic mumble. "No… master, please, no more."

"Yes, a little more, my heart." Angelus smiled, a hint of sweetness after what felt like centuries of cold. Kincaid cried out in pleading as he resumed his lazy strokes once more, and he could do nothing else but lay down and wait out the minutes.

Chapter Text

When the sack was pulled from Ajax's face, his head was in a whirl. Blinking in the darkness, he first recognised he was in a dungeon — an awfully familiar dungeon at that. The acrid smell of the room, held still from decades without airflow, stung his sensitive nose and dried his eyes. He shifted to move and found both his wrists and ankles had been restrained, held by rope woven from something itchy that scratched at his skin. Then he realised there was someone writhing behind him; there was another chair, with someone else, bound back–to–back to Ajax.

Memories of a previous night's agreement, half–forgotten from the liquor, came back in hazy shapes. Ajax hung his head dejectedly.

"Good morning, Captain. And good morning to you too, my lord." Kane's infuriating voice cut through the last of his grogginess. He was, as usual, disgustingly smug, and when the guard finally stepped into a small ring of light from a nearby candle, Ajax rolled his eyes at the self–satisfied, shit–eating grin that graced his face. From behind him, he heard Claude's familiar whimper, confirming his remaining suspicions about their whereabouts.

Kane walked in a leisurely circle around the pair, arms crossed at his chest. Ajax watched him, eyes locked on the slow–moving guard. The tension quickly thickened in the air, and Ajax strained his neck to look over his shoulder when Kane moved out of his periphery — he was momentarily blocked by Claude's mass of red hair, but before long, Kane would inevitably return to where Ajax could see him.

Without granting him the satisfaction of communication, Kane stepped forward. Mostly hidden from Ajax's view again, he grabbed Claude's face in one hand and turned it this way and that; he angled his head, as if he was looking for something, and after an agonising beat of silence, he scoffed.

"My apologies it had to be like this, my lord. You and this… bastard here, you're slippery. I couldn't quite get my hands on both of you without raising any suspicions, and you see how that would be necessary to my plan."

"You— you can't do this—!" Claude whined, struggling against his restraints, "You… you're bound to me, you work for me, this wasn't part of the agreement—!"

"You also have a history of tattling and lying to me, my lord. This should be a fit punishment." He let go of his master's face, stepping back around to face Ajax directly. The pirate stared him down, black eyes boring into the man in front of him. Kane smiled, continuing, "To bear witness to your bastard companion and yet, be unable to dictate the outcome of his torture. Yes, I've thought up a punishment meant for you both."

Ajax watched as the vampyre pawed at a dagger hanging from his hip. Fear rose in his throat for only a moment before he swallowed it, brows knitted together in resolve. He only faced Kane without fear, earning him a minute nod of approval.

"How courageous. If only my lord could see you — but for someone who seems so keen on sticking his nose in other people's business, I would say being rendered this helpless is a fitting penance. Wouldn't you agree, Captain?"

Kane raised a foot and balanced it on the wooden chair, between Ajax's restrained legs. Despite the tremble in his thighs from being held in the straining position, the pirate held his cold gaze unblinking.

Kane's nose scrunched up in frustration. "You never know when to relent, do you? Where's your usual bickering, huh? Not so mouthy when you're tied up?"

Ajax finally reacted, lips twisting into a crooked half–smile. "What, do you miss my voice already, you half–pence son of a bitch?"

In an instant, Kane captured his face in his hand, fingers locking his jaw half–open. "I wasn't askin' for a reply. You think you're so smart, but let me remind you who is tied up here."

"Having to remind me doesn't make you sound very threat— mph—!" Before he could finish his sentence, two gloved fingers pushed into his mouth. Ajax bit down instinctively, but through the leather, Kane barely felt the pain — or if he did, he didn't react to it. He just whipped his hair slightly, blowing an unruly strand from his face, and straightened up so he could tower above the pirate.

"Don't get cocky with me. I could very easily make your punishment worse." Kane snarled, inching his foot closer to Ajax. The toe of his boot collided with the captain's trousers, and his body tensed at the sudden contact. Kane's face finally fell back into the same smug smile at that.

"That's better. This is how a criminal ought to be; nice and pliant, underneath my boot." He twisted his foot in place, roughly digging the hard leather against Ajax's crotch. The pirate groaned, low and muffled, but he found he couldn't hang his head in his current position — so he held his gaze.

"I ought to step on you like an animal. Run you into the ground." Kane hissed, hooking his fingers behind Ajax's teeth so he could angle his head up. Locking eyes, he let a sadistic smile paint his features. "Scum like you are downtrodden already, after all. No wonder you quite enjoy some roughhousing."

"Kane, stop it, that's enough—" Claude whimpered. His voice trembled with something that Ajax couldn't quite place, though it didn't quite come out as fearful.

"My lord is only jealous that he can't see it." Kane barked. He shifted his boot again, pressing the sole up against Ajax completely. The pirate whined meekly, shutting his eyes in embarrassment as he felt himself grow wetter against the cruel motions. Kane continued his taunting, absent–mindedly digging his shoe against the pirate's breeches. "I can smell your arousal from here. But my lord has done nothing but obstruct my work, and for that I must discipline you. You've grown spoiled, young master."

Finally, the gloved fingers left his mouth. Free to speak, a shaky groan left Ajax's throat, and he hung his head in shame; to worsen his condition, though, the moment he did his eyes fell upon the sight between his legs, and he watched helplessly as the stain in his breeches became evident even in the faint candlelight. He heard Claude whine out his name, and Kane stepped roughly on his crotch in retaliation.

"Even back–to–back and my lord still can't seem to get his priorities straight. This will put quite a stain on your reputation if I ever slip a word." Kane hissed. Despite being unable to see behind him, Ajax could tell that Claude was whining, unable to argue against his own guard. "My master will make me question whether he enjoys being humiliated like this. Perhaps my punishment was not nearly as severe as I'd hoped it would be."

He shifted so the toe of his boot slipped between Ajax's legs, effectively sitting him at an angle in which he could just barely move against it if he squirmed against the ropes. Taking it as his cue, Ajax pulled at the restrains again, a ragged moan leaving him as he pressed his soaked breeches against Kane's boot. He heard Claude respond with a whimper, and he and Kane exchanged a glance that, for once in their lives, spelled out cooperation.

Pushing past the ache in his thighs at the awkward stretch, Ajax slid his hips back and forth. Kane used the momentum to slip his boot further beneath him, angling himself so the captain could hump against his boot–leg with some effort. Now much closer, he could lean close to Claude's ear, his rough voice cutting through the constant sound of Ajax panting as he moved.

"Maybe I ought to have let you watch, after all. Maybe I should have tied you to the wall and made you watch. You're the first to complain about my discipline, but you're just begging to watch me act on it."

"That's not true—" Claude shook his head.

"You know it is. If it were up to you, you might have me chastise this poor sod while you watch like the spoiled brat you are. Isn't that right, my lord?"

Claude shook his head again. In his silence, the space was easily filled by Ajax's moans, a new sound leaving his lips with every slide, rubbing his sensitive organ against Kane's strong leg. His shoulders burned with the strain of his position, but he could hear Claude's breathing quicken with every passing second.

"Shall I describe him to you, Captain?" Kane's question made him halt for a moment, blinking in confusion at how unusually playful he sounded. But Ajax decided to take it in stride, nodding. "Yes. Describe your master to me. How… does he enjoy punishing me like this?" He resumed his frantic grinding, the last word coming out as barely more than a gasp at the return of friction. Claude nearly sobbed in desperation, squirming in his seat.

Kane's sadistic smile decorated his face once more. "My master is squirming, like a beast held in a trap. Never have I seen a man so resemble a rabbit. Don't think the light is doing you any flattery, my lord— I can see your enjoyment quite clearly."

Claude shook his head, mumbling 'shut up—' under his breath; Kane barked a cruel laugh in response, eyeing the way the vampyre indeed squirmed, rhythmically and calculated. No doubt he was using his own limited range of movement to relieve himself against the hard wood he'd been restrained to.

"Pathetic. This is my master? This is the man I owe my roof to?" Kane purred. "My master is a perverted fool who enjoys listening to me punish someone else."

Ajax laughed quietly at the jab, interrupting himself with another moan. Claude hung his head in shame, sniffling — and yet he shimmied against the chair, a wet spot growing obvious between his legs.

"My master likes being humiliated. He enjoys being laughed at." Kane purred, playing with his red hair as Claude kept shaking his head. "Filthy. What a sinful little boy I've gotten myself. I would make a much better master than you, my lord."

"Pervert—" Ajax groaned, brows knitted as he ground his raw clit against the boot. Kane laughed again. "Pathetic is the word. An absolute shit–show of a master."

Kane dug his fingers into Claude's hair and yanked, forcing the vampyre's head up. Claude's eyes widened in shock and he moaned, loud and clear, hips jerking in place. He shuddered visibly, lips trembling, until he finally released a long exhale. Kane stared in disbelief, and even Ajax slowed his movements, straining to look over his shoulder.

"… my, my, master. Don't tell me?" Kane purred.

"No—"

"Did he really?" Ajax laughed breathlessly.

"No—!"

"How dirty, master, coming without a touch. Truly an embarrassment."

Claude sobbed, tears finally spilling. Despite the shame burning in his chest, he couldn't deny the delicious tugs of pleasure at the degrading words. All he could do was hang his head and let the embarrassment wash over him.

Kane removed his leg from between Ajax's, much to the captain's displeasure. Before he could complain, Kane removed the dagger from his hip and began cutting his restraints; he took Ajax by the arm, just barely supporting his aching legs, and dragged him in front of Claude. Finally before him, Ajax could see the ruin the lord was in, legs shaking and soaked at the front, hot tears spilling from his eyes as his lip trembled, like a fussy child being scolded.

"Kane, Kane, I'm sorry—" he whimpered.

"Your punishment isn't over just yet." Kane looked him up and down, raising a sharp eyebrow, "You ought to learn not to make a mess of yourself, master. Allow us to show you how it's done. All you must do is stand still and be good."

With an exchanged look, Ajax knew exactly what to do. He got on all fours on the floor, his head dangerously close to Claude's chair, and waited as Kane stepped behind him. He flashed a daring smile at the vampyre, and Claude only whimpered, watching expectantly as his breeches began tenting again.

Chapter Text

"We'd really appreciate it if you knocked."

Nichifor stood awkwardly at the door, mouth open at the scene before him. He knew his partners spent time together without him — with the recent turn of the century, he'd been busier than ever dealing with boring meetings and reviewing new vampyre laws, and he probably did neglect his personal time a little. He just hadn't expected them to go at it in his bedroom on a Tuesday afternoon, is all.

"This… this is my bedroom." Nichifor blinked, wringing his hands shyly.

"Yes. And we're using it right now." Raul barked, having just taken Alexej's cock from his mouth. He glared at Nichifor as if he was the one out of place.

"Raul's right. You said you'd be stuck in council until nightfall, so you're the one who should have warned us." Alexej nodded, laying back casually as if their cock wasn't inches from Raul's face. Nichifor blinked long and hard, making it a point not to stare.

"How—? How would I—? This is my bedroom—!" His voice thinned out in desperation.

"Can you shut the door? I'm shy, I don't want any servants taking a peek at my gentle form." Alexej said flatly, still leaning back with no shame. Nichifor immediately shut the door behind him, face flushing in embarrassment.

A moment passed in silence as they stared at each other. Finally, Nichifor spoke up.

"I… I'm sorry. If this is about… well… I understand I have been somewhat neglectful as of late. My duties are long and complicated, but I never wished to make you feel as though… well…"

The pair didn't respond, waiting for him to continue. Nichifor sighed, bowing his head. "Please, forgive me— I never meant to neglect you. I have been too caught up in my duties, and I mean to make it up to you— please don't be upset."

Raul and Alexej exchanged a glance. Alexej laughed, and the sound wasn't demeaning at all, but rather joyous — wonderful and playful, as their laugh always was. "This must have been weighing on your mind! Did you really think we were upset?"

"Well, I—"

"This was the closest room, and I don't like waiting, that's all." Raul huffed, "It isn't some ploy to guilt you. Although we wouldn't be opposed to some company, of course."

"Mhm. You have been way too stressed with all this council business." Alexej nodded in agreement. "Vampyres are so serious— come, let us help you relax a little. Silly Nichita."

Nichifor exhaled in relief. "You… ah, you're not upset? Really?"

"I will be if you keep standing there like a virgin maiden. Get over here." Raul barked. Nichifor's despair morphed into a bright smile, eyes twinkling as he made his way over. "As you wish, my heart."

As he came close, two pairs of hands immediately got to work; he flushed under the sudden attention, but allowed his partners to begin stripping him of his formal wear. First went the fur cloak, the fur hat, the jewellery and then the silks. Between giggles, every item was discarded and forgotten down to his breeches, and the air inside the room grew warm enough that no one could complain. The spring sun began its downward course outside, casting a delightful orange glow in through the half–covered window.

Once they deemed him sufficiently prepared, Alexej pulled Nichifor into a kiss. Their hands wandered along the sharp collarbones and down his long arms, tracing blue veins beneath the thin skin. The two gasped simultaneously as Raul dipped down on his knees, pulling Nichifor's half–hardened member from his trousers and taking Alexej's in his hands.

Nichifor groaned quietly, looking down to find Raul mouthing at his cock. He returned the stare, hazel eyes pinning him in place as he slipped the tip in his mouth, stroking the length with one hand. At his side, Alexej gave a shaky chuckle.

"Pretty, isn't he?"

"Mhm. So handsome."

Raul huffed in embarrassment, finally shutting his eyes and focusing on Nichifor's cock. Slowly, he eased more and more of the length in his mouth, halting around the middle to avoid gagging. Nichifor's breathing grew heavy, and he lowered a hand to pet at the unruly locks bobbing away below him. With a wet pop, Raul pulled away, a string of saliva briefly connecting him still before he pulled away, and without a moment of hesitation, switched to Alexej's member. The fox hummed in delight, biting their lip.

Raul found a steady rhythm, switching between his lovers' dicks every couple seconds, making sure to cover them both earnestly in spit. Once he thought them hard enough, he pulled away to catch his breath, leisurely stroking them simultaneously. He looked up through half–lidded eyes, and his voice came out raspy when he spoke.

"I want you both. At the same time."

Nichifor and Alexej exchanged a glance, somewhere between surprise and giddiness. "What–?"

"I'm not going to repeat myself." Raul looked away, cheeks somehow reddening a shade darker.

Nichifor smiled fondly. "Well… who are we to deny you, dear? If Alexej is willing…"

Alexej nodded, ears twitching atop their head. "I would be more than happy. I aim to please after all."

"Then you shall have us both. No need to worry, and no need to move a single muscle." Nichifor once again ran his fingers through Raul's hair, relishing in the shy glance he gave him from down on his knees. "In fact, all you have to do is be nice and take what we give you. Allow us, Raul."

Raul opened his mouth to protest at the sudden offer, but Alexej shot him a brisk 'tsk'. Raul sighed, nodding. "Fine. But be quick with it, if I have to wait for a minute longer, I'll do it myself."

Nichifor chuckled, helping Raul to his feet, "No need, my heart. Allow me to go and get something to aid in the… act, if you will. I don't want to hurt you in any way."

As Nichifor turned to head towards a tall dresser, Alexej pulled their lover onto the bed. Raul went easy, climbing onto the fox's lap and pulling them into a sloppy kiss. It descended quickly into a lazy tongue–over–tongue, spit pooling at the corner of their mouths. Alexej's hands rested on Raul's hind, squeezing the strong muscle and pulling a pleased purr from the werewolf.

Nichifor watched them. He'd found the hidden vial of oil — one of Alexej's welcome additions to the bedroom — quite some time ago, and now he took his time standing against the drawer, watching the two writhing figures on his bed. Alexej caught his eye, never breaking the kiss, and the words 'come here' were all but written across their face. Raul was none the wiser, lost in the languid back–and–forth between them.

Nichifor closed in from behind. Memories temporarily came flooding in — the familiar form of their first kiss, Raul comfortably tucked in between him and Alexej, shared like a welcome feast. His chest tightened, suddenly overcome by the sore memory; never again would he or Alexej abandon Raul again. He would keep him this happy, this carefree, for the rest of their lives. Swallowing down the lump in his throat and trying not to ruin the moment, Nichifor turned his attention to peppering small kisses down Raul's back, gently coaxing him back into the present.

"Hello, my heart." Nichifor muttered against his shoulder, kissing the supple skin. Raul hummed, pulling away and sighing in delight as Alexej moved to kiss his neck, ghosting a pair of fangs over his pulse. Their hands came up to his chest, gently passing the scars that lay there — healed, thankfully. Alexej lowered their head to press a kiss to the remnants.

"Beautiful boy. Come on, I can't wait any longer." Alexej purred, pawing at Nichifor's thigh and effectively caging Raul in between them. The voivode laughed.

"How do you want to do this, then? I'm afraid I'm the… least experienced out of us three. Do enlighten me."

"You lay down, and Raul will be on top of you. I can help him get ready for you."

With Alexej's well–versed help, Nichifor lay on his back, black curls pooling around him like a black halo upon the sheets. Raul climbed on top of him, finally discarding his trousers and sitting on his lap with no shame. He giggled, running his hands down Nichifor's flushed chest, his violent blush reaching all the way down his torso.

"Don't laugh at the poor prince, Rauu." Alexej chuckled, coming up behind him, "The poor maiden hasn't the experience, allow her a little blush!"

"Well 'she' is a moment's notice from having you both." Nichifor taunted — his words held no malice though, and he couldn't hide the mirth in his smile even if he tried. Alexej purred, and Nichifor just barely caught their hand sliding low between Raul's thighs, their bushy tail whipping back and forth in excitement.

Raul moaned suddenly, arms shaking as he held himself up. Nichifor placed his hands on his thighs and stroked them reassuringly, eyes trailing down — sure enough, he could see the movement of Alexej's hand, slowly pumping two slick fingers inside the werewolf.

"Good boy. Good boys. Both of you." Nichifor said quietly. The sunset cast a ray of gold, a rare and gentle light that couldn't harm him, over his face. His dark eyes twinkled a warm brown in the sun as he gazed at his lovers, full of absolute adoration. He had a thought then, that if they would only ask of him, he'd do anything.

"You're both doing so well. So beautifully." The words spilled from his chest without warning. Raul whined, and Alexej tried hiding behind him, fleeing from the praise. "Raul, Alexej— my Sluha, look at me. Look at me when I talk to you."

Alexej looked up shyly. Nichifor grinned. "My beautiful lover. Prințesa mea."

They were taken aback by the praise, blinking dumbly as their cheeks heated. Alexej shook their head, and when they finally spoke, their voice came out so much smaller than they wanted it to. "He— he's ready, get on with it—"

"Of course, this is Raul's time to shine after all. But don't think I won't look after you as well." Nichifor purred. He meant to add 'not after everything. Not after all you've done for me. Please, let me look after you as well.' But he chose to keep that part to himself.

Together, they manoeuvred Raul on all fours. He grumbled, but at last they got him to lay flush against Nichifor's chest. The wolf snarled, wriggling against Nichifor's cock. The message was clear — hurry up.

"Allow me, my prince."

Alexej purred. They draped themself over Raul's back, and Nichifor gasped as he felt them reach down for his member, stroking it once, twice, thrice, their fingers still wet from the oily substance. With one hand on Raul's waist and one on his cock, the pair didn't have to do anything as Alexej helped join them together; Raul whined, shivering full–bodied as the tip entered with ease and slowly slipped inside. Alexej's voice, clear like a well–tuned violin, broke through the haze in his mind;

"That's it, Rauu. Good boy."

Raul all but howled, eyes fluttering shut. Nichifor placed a hand on his head, cooing in his ear as he moved his hips slowly, testing him. When he only shuddered in response, he took it as his cue.

Raul moaned into his chest as Nichifor thrust slowly, focusing less on his strength and more on the filling. He held Raul in his arms, shushing him gently as he pulled out all the way until the tip, only to torturously enter him again, until their hips were flushed together. Again and again and again, in a slow and awful rhythm, all while whispering in his ear; "Good boy, Raul. That's my boy. Louder, my heart, it's alright. Let them hear you. Such pretty barks."

Behind them, Alexej watched. They bit their lip, tail twisting madly in excitement as they leaned back on their ankles and watched. Using another small handful of the oil, they pawed at their cock anxiously, eyes locked on their lovers before them. Nichifor turned his gaze to them down; the sun had gone now, and the room grew cold and blue. The lines of his eyes were sharp as ever, cutting through Alexej like daggers. He raised his head to catch his breath before uttering one single word — "Come."

Alexej felt that inexplicable tug in their chest, and with no choice, they obeyed.

The fox positioned themself behind Raul. Nichifor slowed his movements down to only a slow grind, and he gently coaxed Raul's head up. The werewolf whimpered, glancing over his shoulder.

"You're sure you're alright with this, Rauu?" Alexej asked.

Raul nodded. "Mhm. Yes. Do it. I want it."

Alexej bit their lip, ears flat against their head. Exchanging a glance with Nichifor, they shuffled closer, one hand on Raul's hip. They angled their cock and pushed, slowly — Raul whimpered, hiding his face, and both stopped.

"No— no, keep going— I can take it."

"He can. It's alright. We'll stop you if it's too much."

Alexej nodded. They pushed again, and agonisingly slow, it gave way. The tip slipped in along with Nichifor's and Raul let out a ragged cry, legs shaking from the stretch. Nichifor shushed him, holding him in his arms.

"Rauu—"

"He's okay. He just came."

Alexej blinked. Nichifor gave them a smile — it was a gentle, usual Nichifor smile, but with an added edge to it. It was playful. Daring.

He moved his hips. Raul cried out, clawing at the sheets. Alexej gasped, unable to do anything but go along with the movement. The warmth of Raul's insides, combined with the tight drag of Nichifor's cock next to theirs, was enough to send sparks through their body. They thought they might actually catch fire any moment now.

"Such good boys. Taking it so well." Nichifor groaned, deep in his chest. He shut his eyes, letting his head hang back and opening his mouth slightly to the ceiling. Alexej stared at the glittering fangs — one whole, one broken in half — dripping saliva. He was hungry. Alexej moaned quietly, rutting against Raul and hanging their head, hoping their bangs would hide their face.

As Raul's moans only grew in volume, they risked a small peek; Raul was writhing in Nichifor's arms, drooling on his chest, eyes wet with tears ready to fall. Nichifor was panting, heaving like a wild beast, one arm reaching back to hold onto the wooden bedpost as he hurried his pace, thrusting into Raul with newfound vigour. Alexej whimpered, arms shaking with the effort to hold themself up, tail thumping against the ruined bedsheets with every frantic thrust.

"Look at me, boy. Look at me, Sluha."

Alexej almost sobbed. They looked up, and they only hoped they didn't look as crazed as they felt. To some small comfort, Nichifor was eyeing them with an equal hunger, swallowing the excess of drool pooling in his mouth.

"That's it. Let it go. I'm here, I'm with you both." Nichifor nodded. Alexej cried out softly; the deep timbre of his voice lulled them someplace unfamiliar, yet so enticing. Putting blind faith in his words, Alexej crashed down on top of Raul, rutting against him madly, leaving barely enough space to move. Raul howled out, claws tearing into the bedsheets and leaving them in ribbons. Nichifor groaned, turning his head and biting down into his extended arm, eyes fluttering shut at the onslaught of pleasure. Hunger gnawed at his throat, and it took all his final strength not to tear right into the two men before him.

He blinked back to the present as Alexej sobbed, face twisted in near pain. Nichifor then became aware of something growing, pushing against the already little space between Alexej, Raul and himself.

"Alexej?" Nichifor unlatched himself from his arm, not bothering to lick away the droplets of blood that painted his mouth.

The fox cried out, tears threatening to spill. "Mm… Nichi… ah—"

"Is that—?"

They nodded. Raul moaned, long and drawn out, far too gone to really hear what they were discussing anymore. Nichifor purred, biting down on his lip.

"My heart… Prințesa mea, do you want to knot him? Do you want to knot our boy?"

Alexej and Raul moaned in unison. The fox shook their head, "I can't—"

"Shh, look at me—" Alexej did, and Nichifor smiled reassuringly, "my lover… ah— do you want to knot him? Do you think Raul can take it?"

Alexej sobbed, rutting against Raul like an animal. "Nichi—"

"Yes, my love, I'm here. I'm here." Nichifor reached over, taking one of their hands and intertwining their fingers. Alexej looked at him through wet lashes, mouth open in a perpetual moan.

"Are you close, my dear? Do you want to come together?" Nichifor groaned. Alexej nodded frantically. "Good, good. Do you want to come? Do you want to knot him? Just say yes, my lover."

Alexej hid their face, hot tears falling on Raul's back and making the werewolf shudder beneath them. "Yes— yes, yes, I do—"

Nichifor moaned, hanging his head back once more. "Then do— come, my heart, break him, come for me."

As if on command, Alexej yowled, tail stiffening and bristling against their back as they halted completely, pushing themself as deep into Raul as was humanly possible; their knot pushed, engorged but unbreached, against his tight entrance as they spilled inside him. He felt Raul come for the second time, howling in desperation, hot cum sticking between their torsos.

With three more well–timed thrusts, Nichifor dipped into his own climax, mouth hanging open in a quiet plea as he painted Raul's insides, feeling him tighten impossibly against him and Alexej. He tried to catch his breath, chest heaving against the weight of both his partners, collapsed and weak on top of him.

Gently, he raised his hands; one stroked Raul's hair, the other Alexej's. He waited patiently until Raul peeled his eyes open, hazy and dreamy as he stared up at him.

"Raul, my heart. I'm here, how are you?"

Raul sighed, shutting his eyes again and snuggling into his chest.

"… Raul, we should clean you—"

"No… stay. Just a little more…" The werewolf hid his face shyly, but Nichifor heard him clearly. "Mm… full. Stay like this a little longer."

Nichifor sighed, laying his head back onto the bed. Who was he to deny his lovers? He stroked their hair gently, shutting his eyes and laying together, warmed by the strong bodies above him and Raul's insides. Half–heartedly, he thought he really should make more time in between councils — there were still some ideas bubbling that he ought to bring up with Alexej and Raul.

Chapter Text

Angelus rarely used mind control on Kincaid. To be entirely fair, most of the time he had no need to; Kincaid was relatively well–behaved anyway. But sometimes, the vampyre couldn't resist just a little bit of fun.

Kincaid delivered him a silver tray with a little teacup and three scones. As he bent down to set it on the desk, he heard Angelus' voice in his head;

'Sit up straight. Your slouching is an embarrassment to any worthwhile assistant.'

He looked up — but Angelus was only now turning his attention to him, a gentle smile on his cheeks as he raised his eyes from his laptop. "Oh, thank you, Mr. Kincaid. One more thing, could you bring me this envelope downstairs? And have it stamped."

Kincaid blinked, but brushed off the event. He took an envelope from the desk that Angelus had gestured to, and bowed his head quickly. "Of course, sir."

Angelus gave him a smile. As Kincaid turned and moved his hand to shut the office door, the vampyre's voice came again;

'Next time, add one more cube of sugar. Shameful that you don't know your master's preferences, even with all the discipline I put you through.'

Kincaid shook his head. He opened the door again, "I can prepare another one for you—"

"Kincaid? What are you talking about?" Angelus raised his eyebrows, still holding the teacup like he'd just been taking a sip. "The tea is excellent. I thought I dismissed you."

Kincaid's words died in his mouth. "But… ah… yes, sir."

The vampyre did not reply, but only gave him another polite smile. Kincaid hurried out of the room then, shutting the door behind him. Envelope in hand, he made his way downstairs and into what was, in all accounts, his own little office. His base of operations, as he called it.

He stepped in and shut that door too, just in case. As he made his way to the desk, he felt the prickle of eyes along his back; he foolishly looked around twice, once over each shoulder, but there was no one there. Angelus and himself were the only people in that nightmare of a house, and if Angelus was in his office, there was no one to observe Kincaid in the privacy of his room.

So he sat down. He took the stamp from the drawer, lathered the Maestrelli house logo in ink, and pressed it down on the paper. Then the voice came again.

'Good boy, Mr. Kincaid.'

Kincaid shook his head, looking around with wide eyes. "For fuck's sake— quit it—!"

'I can hear you quite well, no need to yell. That was extremely rude.'

Kincaid dropped the stamp, cradling his head in his hands. "Of course, of course he can hear— fuck."

A few minutes passed in silence. Kincaid waited for something — another jab, perhaps a command, anything. But nothing came. Assuming the vampire to have grown bored, he dared to relax for a moment.

The rest of the day continued on in absolute torture.

With his every action, no matter how small, Angelus' voice came from the back of his mind. At some point, Kincaid wondered if he might be hallucinating it. He was quickly disproved by the vampire replying with a laugh, and a 'silly boy. If I wanted you to hallucinate, I could very well make you.'

"Make it stop—" Kincaid gasped out, gripping the kitchen sink. His knuckles went white, matching the delicate marble as he tightened his hands around it, shaking. Angelus' voice came with a gentle cooing, and he swore he could almost feel him stroking his back.

'My good secretary, you've been so well–behaved today. You've completed all your errands, yes?'

Kincaid wanted to cry. He nodded.

Angelus' voice seemed to somehow grow, not in volume, but in thickness. Kincaid had to strain to hear anything else around the honey–sweet tone in his ears. 'Good. Excellent. Shall I reward you then?'

"Reward…?"

'Yes, Mr. Kincaid.' Angelus didn't have to say it aloud. Somehow, Kincaid's hand found itself moving without the human ever ordering it to. He crumbled to his knees, suddenly weak in the middle of the kitchen. He curled up into himself, mouth falling into a wordless whimper as he shoved a hand into his trousers.

'Yes, good. Good.' The growl echoed inside his mind. Kincaid gasped, slowly tugging at himself, and he shut his eyes hard. "Sir— I–I can't, not here, please don't—"

'It's alright, Mr. Kincaid, you deserve it. You've done very well.' Angelus' voice came heavier now, deeper, almost rumbling in Kincaid's chest. The human whimpered, ears burning in embarrassment as his hand tightened around his member, slowly bringing it to full hardness still in his trousers.

He tried pleading once more, voice small and shaky. "Sir— Angelus, not here—"

'What did you just call me?' Angelus snarled. Kincaid shook his hand, sobbing as his hand tightened painfully around his cock. Immediately he began spilling apologies, "No— I'm sorry sir, I didn't— Fuck—"

'Repeat yourself, Mr. Kincaid. Address me adequately. Now.' His voice filled his head like a thick glue, sticking to every small crevice. Kincaid felt dizzy now, head swimming as he tried looking around — with the sudden lack of hearing, his body swayed, and he found he couldn't quite balance himself. Not with Angelus' voice filling his head like this. 'Address me. There is only one who can get into your pretty, little head like this, is there not?'

Kincaid nodded frantically, screwing his eyes shut once more. "Yes— I'm sorry, sir."

'Properly, Kincaid.' The human sobbed as his grip tightened around his cock, despite his best efforts to control himself. Angelus' voice spread like vines, sluggishly overtaking his every limb.

"Fuck— fine, fine—! I'm sorry, Master—!"

Finally, his hand let go. Kincaid sobbed, full–chested and full of relief as he tugged at his sensitive member again, trembling at the sudden onslaught of sensation. Angelus' half–purr, half–laugh echoed inside him, and now Kincaid could swear he felt the sound reverberate through his entire being.

'Yes. Yes, marvellous, my sweet boy. You know who your master is.'

Kincaid whimpered. He searched his brain for any witty reply, anything quick and snappy to say, but the further he pushed, the more he found it was like wading in deep, dark waters.

'Come now, jaan. Let go. Unravel, like the beautifully pathetic human you are.' His voice was everywhere now; Kincaid felt his forehead hit the ground, but all he could do was keep jerking himself off, only vaguely registering the stickiness of his own precum on his hand, and completely unable to hear his own sobs of despair above the fog of Angelus' damn voice.

'I gave you a task, my heart. Unravel.'

Without any prior warning or amount of self–control to stop it, Kincaid moaned out loud, back arching as his climax suddenly crashed down on him. All he could do was cry as he sat on the cold, marble floors, still holding his oversensitive cock in his now soiled trousers — but as much as he tried, he couldn't find it in himself to stand. His limbs felt heavy, like they'd been coated in cement. He could barely rub his cheek against the ground, hot tears still dripping down his face in abandon.

Angelus' voice came again like a stroke to the cheek, filling his body with near unbearable heat. 'Yes… Yes, Kincaid. So, so very good. Excellent.'

The praise washed over him like hot sunshine, and all he could do was mumble "thank you," against the floor.

Chapter Text

There was something about the situation that even Rowan would describe as blasphemous. And he was a night–stalking, blood–sucking monster.

"Bless me Father, for I am sinning."

The wax fell on the priest's chest and he jumped, jerking against his restraints. They were primitive things — just some old neckties used to keep Gabriel tied to the bed by his ankles and wrists — but the priest still made an effort to sit still. How precious.

"Father? Are you not listening?" Rowan's voice was as beautifully monotone as it always seemed to be. "I am sinning. I am a sinner."

"I—I'm sorry, my child— yes, I will hear your confession—" Gabriel gasped through gritted teeth. Rowan saw his muscles contract beneath his skin, and the roar of his blood rushing was deafeningly tempting.

"I don't remember my last confession. But I am sinning as I speak." He tilted his wrist. Again, hot red wax, almost the same colour as his hair, dripped and fell in quick drops on the priest's abdomen, just above his belly button. Gabriel gasped, throwing his head back and arching into the feeling.

Rowan had learned long ago that the priest's eyes were green. But now, reflecting the nearby candlelight, they seemed closer to gold. He wondered just how often this human would keep surprising him.

The vampyre trailed his gaze down, hungrily raking blue eyes down the plump skin just asking to be taken between his teeth. He entertained his free hand by playing with the human's belt — one of the only items that hadn't been discarded upon reaching the apartment.

"Father… I confess I want to sin even further. I want to do very bad things to a very devout man." Rowan's voice was barely above a whisper, and he turned his hand over. A stream of wax fell now on Gabriel's chest, and he choked back a surprised yelp. The vampire hummed and looked at his own hand.

He closed his fist and pushed a golden ring into the wax — it was a foul old thing, centuries old by this point, sporting only a snake design coiling around his ring finger. When he pulled it away, the imprint of the design stayed. The priest strained to look down, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"I want to mark a man who is very devout. I want to hurt him." Rowan whispered. He trailed ice–cold nails down the man's abdomen, and Gabriel whimpered in response.

"You— ah— you are forgiven. God will forgive you."

"Will He really?" The vampyre didn't pose it as a question. He shifted himself, sitting down on the priest's lap. He felt the obvious tent between his legs, but he remained still, hovering over him.

Like an angel, Gabriel thought. Though Rowan might have equated himself more to a devil.

"I wouldn't forgive me, if I was God. I would be disgusted." Rowan kept his voice flat, though the extended fangs peeking from his mouth betrayed his hunger. Eyeing the candle for a moment, he lowered it, dripping a thin trail of wax down the man's body until he reached his belly button. Gabriel squirmed, shutting his eyes — his face twisted with strain, and he swallowed hard before speaking up.

"You— are not disgusting. You're so— you're beautiful—"

Rowan watched him through sleepy eyes. He shifted in his seat, pressing himself against the man's bulge, and a small smile tugged at his face when he whimpered.

"Maybe. That's no concern of mine. But I do very disgusting things." He ran clawed fingers down the side of his body, leaving soft red scratch marks on the sensitive skin. "I make very good men sin. And I make bad men even worse."

"Row–ah—" Gabriel bit his lip, trying to move his legs in a way that wouldn't add pressure between his legs; the more he tried, though, the more it felt as though Rowan purposefully pushed down, meeting his hips every time. Tears pricked at his eyes, unable to run from the warmth between his legs.

"I… Father, I want to sin. I want to make him sin, too. My beautiful, mortal man." Rowan shut his eyes, biting his lip and squeezing the priest between his thighs. In the warm glow, Gabriel could see the slick–soaked front of his red–plaid trousers, soaked through with what he almost thought to be blood — Rowan's strange anatomy would forever be a mystery to him, but he would have it no other way.

"Rowan—" All he could do was gasp his name. The syllables fell easier than any prayer, and for a moment Gabriel all but forgot about the concept of Heaven when Rowan leaned forward with a wanton moan. The unholy curve of his waist and the maybe–intentional peek of a soft, pink breast from the low–cut top were as close to absolution as the priest had ever come in this lifetime.

He wanted to reach out to the vampyre. He wanted to pull those damn hips against him, crash like waves, like the rising of the Red Sea by Moses, only it was just him and the red–haired vampire. Gabriel sobbed then in desperation; both still painfully clothed, he felt his cock drag against Rowan's wet folds through the fabric, and a cataclysm broke in his mind.

"Rowan— Rowan, more. Please, I need it—" He begged. The priest begged, moved to tears by the creature above him; lit by the candle now held still in his hand, eyes glassy and thin, the most perfect altar boy.

"More what, Father? Absolution?" Rowan moaned, open–mouthed and sharp–toothed. "I… I cannot give you absolution."

"Then give me death—! Anything, please, I beg of you—" Gabriel sobbed again, and thick tears rolled down his cheek and towards his ears, "—I beg, my angel, please. I won't ask for anything ever again."

Rowan was silent for a beat. Then he dipped his wrist, sending another wave of wax splashing down on Gabriel's stomach, causing him to writhe and yell out — before the scream could finish leaving his throat, Rowan was already leaning over and licking at his face greedily, lapping at the hot stream of tears brought forth by the sudden pain.

"My priest… my priest, begging for death… I couldn't, I can't give it to you," Rowan whispered, brokenly, grinding against Gabriel like a man possessed. His clawed fingers dug and peeled at the molten wax, and he again licked at the tears that fell freely now from those delightful green eyes he so adored.

"Rowan… Rowan, Rowan, please…" The pleas fell like desperate prayer, again and again and again. The vampyre dipped his head, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, wet with stray tears.

In between the human's sobs, Rowan bit down into the writhing thing beneath him. Time slowed to a delicious crawl as feverish sludge filled his mouth, and every shaking cry brought more blood to the surface.

Rowan would be gentle, and he would never grant his priest the satisfaction of death; but he could do much, much worse. Bar the gates of Heaven to him, take Gabriel away from Him, and keep him to himself, delicious and sobbing and crimson.

Yes, that, Rowan could absolutely do. And Gabriel would worship his every choice.

Chapter Text

"We— we shouldn't be doing this—!" Claude whispered, eyes wide. In front of him, pressed against the alleyway wall, Ajax raised a daring eyebrow.

"You say that as if we should have done anything we've done since we met. Tell me, good lord, pillaging and setting fires is fine, throat–cutting is just sunny, but you draw the line at a little back–alley fun?"

Claude opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. His cheeks flushed, growing comically close to the shade of his hair, and he shook his head in frustration. "I— that's not—! I'm just saying, if anyone sees—"

"If anyone sees, they'll assume thee to be another snotty noble with a wayward wench." Shamelessly, Ajax pulled the already ridiculously loose shirt collar to the side, revealing his naked breast. Claude whipped his head around, screwing his eyes shut.

"Don't do that—!"

Ajax laughed boisterously. "What are you, a child?!" As his laughter died down slightly, he continued mostly to himself, "Nay, even a child is more accustomed to seeing a pair of breasts… You're no youth, my lord, you're just a coward."

"I'm no coward, take that back!" Claude hissed, taking Ajax's shirt collar and pulling it shut, hiding away the offending plane of skin. The captain laughed, face twisted in genuine amusement.

"No, I will not take it back. You're dealing with seafarers now, you'll have to do a little more to prove your worth."

Claude turned up his nose, doing his best to look… threatening? Determined? Whatever his end goal, he ended up looking more like a fussy child. "Fine! I will. What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

"Eager boy." Ajax chuckled. He reached up and took Claude's shaking hands in his, coaxing him into letting go of his shirt. "You want to prove yourself to me? You want me to stop calling you a coward? Then bed me, right here, right now."

Claude hesitated, lip trembling in embarrassment. Just as Ajax was about to laugh and back off for good, ready to play it off as just a joke, Claude steeled himself.

"Fine. I will. I–I don't care who sees. I'll— b–bed you. Right here, right now."

Ajax let out a disbelieving laugh. "You— hah! You will? Where did all this courage come from, all of a sudden?" He dropped his hands to Claude's waist and pulled him forward, making the vampyre yelp in surprise. "Could it be all thy courage just took the first carriage downtown?"

Claude whined shyly, trying to still himself despite the mortifyingly obvious pressure between his legs, sandwiched against the captain's hips. It was with the last strands of horror that he realised then that, in Ajax's manhandling, his hands had found leverage on the captain's chest. Ajax laughed again, and he felt the rumble of it against his palms.

"Go on, my lord, don't be a prude. Give it a squeeze."

"I–I shouldn't—"

"Go on." Ajax smirked, crooked and ridiculously charming. Claude hung his head in shame, biting his lip; hesitantly, as quietly as he could, he obeyed. He squeezed the plump flesh in his hands, face rushing bright at just how soft Ajax felt.

"So… so soft…"

"Yeah? You like it?" Ajax sighed, low in his chest, and it sent a shiver up the vampyre's back. Still avoiding his eyes, Claude squeezed again — he fondled the captain's breasts with a sliver more of confidence now, pushing them together and letting the dirty blouse fall to the sides. He noticed a myriad of moles across the pale skin, milky and smooth despite Ajax's rugged appearance.

The captain sighed again in delight, shutting his eyes and letting his head hang back against the stone. He shifted his hips, pushing against Claude's and earning a meek little moan out of the vampyre at the contact.

"Captain—"

"You're really into this." Ajax purred. He dipped his hand down, fumbling with the buttons on Claude's breeches, who looked down in surprise.

"Relax. Just continue what you're doing. Or even better—" Ajax lowered his voice, shoving his hand in the vampyre's trousers and cupping his hard–on, "—use your mouth."

Claude moaned, eyebrows twisting in embarrassment as he bucked his hips against Ajax's hand. But he took the encouragement in stride, and with a small whimper, he lowered his head and began peppering shy kisses along his chest.

Ajax groaned. "I said use your mouth, man, not kiss me like a little girl. I thought you were a vampyre, are thee not?"

"Captain—"

"Have at it, Claude, you half–pence bitch." Ajax raised his free hand, tangling it in Claude's red locks and pulling him against his chest. The vampyre's surprise was muffled, and he quickly stopped himself before he instinctively shook his head again.

Ajax resumed a moderate pace with his lower hand, tugging at Claude's cock with unholy confidence. Claude whimpered, and he quickly learned there was only one way to muffle his own sounds; he opened his mouth, shyly latching onto a soft breath, teeth just barely gnawing at the supple flesh. He heard Ajax moan, deep and unbothered, and took it as his cue to continue.

Ajax huffed a laugh, eyes fluttering shut. "Ah, Claude… you slut."

Claude looked up, eyes wide. He made a pathetic noise from around the flesh in his mouth, but didn't let go. Ajax laughed again.

"Hungry boy. You could have asked me before… I would have let you take ah— a bite. Don't stop now, silly."

Claude whimpered, burying his face in his chest. He turned his cheek and gnawed on the opposite breast, whining as he sucked a dark bruise onto the pale skin. Ajax groaned, hand faltering around his cock.

"Fuck— don't tear my tit off, fuckin' vampyre— here, get off."

Claude looked up in surprise as Ajax let go of him, then used his free hand to pry Claude from his chest by his hair. There was a daring sparkle in the captain's eyes that told him he wasn't done just yet.

Expertly, he manoeuvred Claude onto his knees, one hand firmly on his red hair. Claude could only go down with no complaint, big blue eyes wide as they looked around the alleyway.

"Captain— mmph–!" His voice was muffled as Ajax shoved him against his crotch, laughing far too loud for comfort.

"Finish me off, and I'll return the favour back at the cabin. Come on. And be quick, it's getting dark— you wouldn't want a thief to come by and see you on your knees, would you, my lord?"

Claude shook his head, blush spreading impossibly far across his face. Shyly, he lifted inexperienced hands to the captain's breeches, untying them and pulling down the soaked fabric. Ajax watched him with a purr.

It was ridiculously easy to humiliate the vampyre into doing his bidding. He would have to keep that in mind, for… future endeavours.