Amour de Trois: Chapter 3/3 part a
Title: Amour de Trois
Genre: Comedy/Romance
Pairing: Fakir/Mytho/Duck
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: awkwardness, first time
Summary: The prince and the knight and the...duck? In a bed! Duck swears she hasn't watched those videos that Pike and Lilie were talking about.
Amour de Trois
:::
démarrer
:::
The bed seemed smaller than usual, more cramped and uncomfortable than the first time. Maybe it was the nervousness that comes with knowing what's about to happen that was taking up so much space. Maybe the bed had shrunk while they were in the hallway.
Fakir's previous authority had seemingly drained from his very skin and been replaced with a hot feeling and a red face. He sat and fidgeted, trying to think of all the right things to say but instead saying nothing at all.
Duck glanced around unnecessarily, as if she'd never before been inside of Fakir and Mytho's dorm. She had, but of course she'd been more interested in other things then, not the matching tapestry or the bunched up sheets or the clothes in heaps on the floor. In fact, what little Duck did remember of the room was that it was meticulously clean, and there certainly hadn't been a knocked over glass of water on the floor.
“How come your room is such a mess?” She blurted before she could even stop herself. Duck really had a way with saying the wrong things and the wrong times.
“Fakir and I were getting changed.” Mytho offered in explanation. Duck's imagination and the glimpse of what she'd seen earlier filled in the rest.
“Oh, right.” Duck had actually forgotten about school, to be honest. About Mytho and Fakir and-
“Do you think it'll be suspicious that we're all absent from school on the same day?” Duck slapped a hand to her face and went back to observing the curtains.
Mytho wondered why Fakir wasn't touching him when he'd been doing it so spectacularly before Duck had arrived. The Prince was aching again, and his heart was burning, and hadn't Fakir told him that he was always going to do what was best for him?
“Touch me, Fakir?” Mytho asked, voice soft. It might have been tentative, but Mytho had nothing to bring him hesitation, no semblance of social norms to understand why the other two were so quiet.
Fakir muttered a quiet yea, much to Duck's surprise and shifted forward. The dark-haired boy was against Mytho and touching him seemingly all at once, and Duck was positive that she had not just felt a pang of jealousy.
She watched from behind her hands-only a little less embarrassed than the last time-as Fakir shifted him flat on his back.
Fakir kept touching Mytho's stomach, so much softer than anything else she'd ever seen Fakir do, and the simplicity of his fingers on Mytho's pale skin entranced her. The Knight dipped into his naval and danced circles around his nipples, and then, much to Duck's surprise, he pinched them lightly. Duck squeaked when Mytho groaned at the sensation. She'd no idea that boy's nipples were the same in that way. Well she wasn't really that stupid, she knew boy's nipples could get hard, but she didn't know you could touch them like a girls' and they'd feel it like a girl would.
Mytho glanced at her from beneath thick lashes-probably surprised at all her squeaking-and offered her an unabashed smile. She reddened. Their Prince was neither suave nor charismatic, just honest and without embarrassment, which was perhaps so much better. It meant that whatever Mytho said, he really, truly meant, and that nothing he said was ever showy or with the desire to please or woo. It was just what Mytho wanted to say.
Mytho's smile disappeared behind a gasp, and Duck found herself squirming beneath her school uniform in a fairly similarly inappropriate manner. She took a deep breath and glanced away for a moment, to compose herself, and when she turned back around Fakir had his long fingers wrapped around Mytho's...Mytho's, his well, Duck couldn't quite bring herself to even think it.
She swallowed and forced herself not to turn away. You've done this before, she kept telling herself. She knew however, that it hadn't been like this, that she hadn't actually seen Mytho's well, his thing. It was strange and foreign to her, like nothing she was used to. If she were honest with herself, she'd never even seen a boy's thing outside of babies and art and that one time she walked in on someone by accident in the bathroom. None of her previous experiences had been quite so exhilarating, however. She edged closer, holding her breath. She told herself she could this, that she'd done it before, that if she closed her eyes, it'd be just like before-
“What are you doing?” Fakir's voice cut through her thoughts, and when she opened her eyes, she noticed he'd stopped his motions and Mytho was eying her curiously. They glanced at her arm, and then she did too, and she noticed it was outstretched just centimeters away from well, from Mytho's, um, his-penis-she forced herself to think, with a blush. She imagined how ridiculous she must look, stretched halfway across the bed with her eyes clenched shut.
She realized suddenly that they were probably expecting an answer, particularly when Fakir gave her an impatient look and Mytho squirmed.
“I was ummm, you know, gonna, I was reach-I was gonna um, you know, like last time...” Duck was more stuttery than usual, unable to find a sentence to describe what she was about to do and not be embarrassed at the same time.
Fakir rolled his eyes, feeling more confident after his earlier romp with Mytho and the arguments in the hallway.
“I know that, but why are you doing it with your eyes closed from halfway across the bed? You look like an imbecile.” Duck resisted the urge to squawk indignantly. She knew he was right. She was just afraid or nervous, or something, right?
Mytho shifted his hips again, and Duck tried not to watch as his, his-penis-bounced a bit and tapped against his stomach.
Fakir, finally and completely fed up with words, grabbed Duck by her arm and pulled her significantly closer to the other two. Mytho was still flat on his back, smiling as the two people that cared for him touched him tenderly. With their hearts.
And maybe a bit with their hands.
Fakir seated himself over top of Mytho's legs, just below the knees, and without too much trouble or embarrassment had Duck similarly seated in front of him, albeit closer to Mytho's cock. Duck shifted her hips a bit, accidentally brushing back against Fakir and his own erection, and he tried to contain a shiver. Duck seemed not to notice. She scooched herself up more, so that she was seated just below Mytho's penis. Penis, she could at least think it now. She took a deep breath, and without too much hesitation wrapped her hands firmly around Mytho's cock.
The Prince responded nearly instantaneously, keening and bucking as Duck continued a simple up-and-down motion with both of her hands. She swallowed nervously. She wasn't sure what else there was to do. Just up-and-down, right? And then faster?
Fakir moved forward until he was flush against Duck, his tented erection brushing against her backside. The Knight reached around slowly, as to not startle the Princess into a fit of quacking, and-swallowing deeply and trying not to shake-laid his hands tenderly against her chest. She stiffened and slowed down her motions, but otherwise seemed to be adjusting to the feeling.
“I just-” Fakir wasn't sure what to say, because 'hey can I grope your chest?' just didn't quite cut it.
“It's um, I-I...I uh, okay?” Fakir managed out finally, tripping over words. Everything was so much different when it came to Duck.
“Y-yeah.” Vigorous head-nodding; she scooched back a little.
Fakir's own embarrassment and nervousness was the only thing keeping him from grinding against her. He was finding himself more aroused than ever, and his recent lack of masturbation certainly wasn't helping matters. Instead he began fiddling with her chest through her school uniform, brushing his fingers where he could feel what might have been breasts, feeling tiny nubs harden beneath the fabric.
Duck gasped and shuddered, pulled Mytho a little to roughly, and his eyebrows furrowed as he cried out. Fakir stopped immediately, making a mental note that she obviously wasn't capable of doing two things at once.
“Idiot,” He muttered against her ear, “Be careful, do you want to hurt him? Sheesh.” He meant little of what he said, quite aware that if anyone was to blame for the accident, it was certainly him.
“I'm sorry! I didn't realize, I mean, it was an accident, it's just because because you were-” Her voice was becoming higher with every word and cracking around the edges.
“It's okay, Duck. It doesn't hurt anymore.” Mytho reassured her-and it was a good thing too, because Fakir hadn't planned on it. This whole thing was uncomfortable enough already.
Literally. He shifted against her again, and she squirmed, and then he shifted because she was squirming, and well, chain reaction, really.
“Shouldn't you take off your clothes, too?” Mytho spoke up softly, watching with amusement in his eyes as they shifted again. Mytho had no understanding of modesty at all. Duck fidgeted with the hem of her shirt and Fakir could feel his palms begin to sweat.
They sat in silence for a few moments, shifting uncomfortably and trying to figure out just what to do when Duck finally decided to make a move. She would be the brave one this time, she kept telling herself. Besides, it wasn't as if Fakir hadn't seen her undressed after she'd changed back into a girl, even if it was for just a few seconds-and plus, just the other day they'd both seen her down to her underwear-but she couldn't believe she was going to do this!
Still playing with the hem of her shirt, she inhaled deeply and began to undo the vest, and then-slower than necessary-lifting the dress beneath it up over her shoulders until it was just a sky blue heap on the floor.
It really helped that her back was to Fakir. Mytho stayed in place, smiling up at her curiously. Her torso was much similar to his own, skinny and covered in skin and there was a belly button towards the bottom-but unlike him it was softer and less jagged, and then of course her, well, they certainly weren't breasts, but it was soft there and maybe there were small lumps that protruded the tiniest bit. She was a duck at the end of the day.
Her underwear were cute and white-Fakir could tell even from behind her-and the top was bordered with little little yellow ducks. He could practically feel the blood rushing to his face at the innocence of it all.
“Umm...” Duck was biting her lip, unsure of what to do between the two boys, and feeling rather self-conscious at her lack of breasts or womanly figure. Mytho didn't seem to notice.
He sat himself up on his forearms, and then began moving completely upright, throwing the other two off balance, Duck falling backwards into Fakir. Mytho retracted his legs until they were underneath him, kneeling, pushing off his boxers-the only clothing he'd had-in the process.
Duck was too busy trying to scramble off of Fakir to notice, blushing and fumbling and saying sorry sorry sorry.
“Hey, calm down. I don't want you fainting like you did the last time.” Fakir said it in an aggravated tone, but Duck could sense the tenderness in the words.
She stilled and found herself staring down at a face equally as embarrassed as her own. She felt naked and exposed, probably just because of the simple fact that she was stripped down to her underwear. She held her weight on all fours, afraid to straddle Fakir's waist-afraid too touch him at all-and stared down nervously as her braid brushed against his cheek.
“Umm, F-Fakir...” She started, shivering from the lack of clothes and coldness of the room, she wasn't sure what she should be saying. “It's, um, I'm k-kinda cold.” Fakir didn't say anything and Duck looked away feeling stupid, when suddenly she felt trembling hands grab her hips and pull them down firmly. She swallowed and squirmed, the heat radiating from Fakir's clothed cock flushing beneath her.
Fakir breathed in slowly, hands still on thin hips, and he tried to convince himself that what he was about to do was okay. He told himself that he was only a year older, only a bit taller, and only a bit more experienced. He still felt like a pervert somehow. Sometimes he felt like Duck was just too innocent for all this, that he was corrupting young minds or something.
She shifted against him and his cock was became perfectly aligned between her legs and suddenly none of that mattered. He ground his hips and pulled hers down again, rubbing his trapped cock against the warmth between her legs.
“ah...!” The noise tumbled out of her throat and was followed by a soft gasp as he repeated the action. Fakir never knew that such a dope-headed girl was capable of making such erotic noises. He swallowed and clenched his eyes shut, grinding again, and for for a few moments forgetting any hesitation or embarrassment.
But only for a few moments, because then, of course, Mytho spoke:
“Me too, Fakir?” Fakir's eyes snapped open and he turned his head, eyes searching Mytho out. Truth be told he'd forgotten the Prince's presence, and guilt washed over him in waves.
His voice was choked, “Y-eah, Mytho I-” He shifted, releasing Duck's hips and supporting his weight with his elbows. She hid her embarrassment by looking at the sheets.
“Duck?” Mytho whispered, suddenly beside her and very, very close. Fakir watched nervously, curiously, wondering what the Prince would do with limited knowledge and even more limited experience.
Without warning Mytho was straddling Fakir too, but in the opposite direction, so that Fakir really only got a clear view of his back and skinny bottom and Duck's long pointy hair poking up above their heads.
Mytho stared into surprised blue eyes, and Fakir could hear him softly saying, “I've never kissed you, Duck.”
Then he leaned down-he was a bit taller than her after all-and pressed his lips against hers' like he remembered doing with Fakir. The feeling was very similar-it made the pain cease and his heart flutter-but yet very different: softer, and gentler and more timid.
Mytho groaned suddenly, fierce and needy, and then just as sudden-he bucked against her. Then again. Her eyes widened as he rubbed his cock against her through the thin patterned fabric of her underwear, surprised and pleased. Mytho gave another uncoordinated jerk and she found herself grasping his shoulders and leaning her head in the crook of his neck. Mytho had no shame as he continued to rut, and soon Duck found herself becoming wet-something she'd experienced before but never had much use for-and wanting him more and faster.
Fakir was on the verge of insanity at the maddening slow pace that the other two seemed to enjoy, and the two of them rocking on top of him-Mytho's ass brushing against him just so-it was driving him crazy. Of course he also couldn't see anything. In a surge of dominance he sat up and wrapped his arms simultaneously around Duck and Mytho, crushing them against one another and dragging him down until he was once looming over them, Duck looking unsure of herself and Mytho looking practically entertain, though flushed.
He stared down at them with no real idea of what to do, no plan in mind, and feeling quite ridiculous for suddenly moving everything like he had. He was sure about the mechanics of sex-both kinds-and although three made it a bit more complicated, he still should have been able to figure something out.
Yet instead he sat with a dumbly blank mind and a pink face. Did Duck know the mechanics of sex at all-of any kind? Mytho certainly didn't-but then he had read his diary, so perhaps the very basics at best-but clearly not enough to know anything about, well...
He inhaled deeply, promising himself not to ramble on like Duck ever again, and began the impossible task of removing his clothing. Duck and Mytho both watched him like he was a regular after-school special-or in this case, perhaps the before school special-and Fakir found his hands sweaty and his fingers slipping. It took him longer than it should have to remove his clothing, and once he'd finally finished, the desire to cover himself was so great that he almost reached for a pillow.
But that would have been ridiculous, considering what he was about to do.
He swallowed and decided to lay down on the right side of the bed towards the end, putting the golden-eyed boy between the Duck and the Knight. He was facing Mytho's back, and just when he'd gotten up the courage to touch his shoulders Mytho interrupted the strained silence,
“What do we do now Fakir?” Of course, so Mytho didn't even know the basics.
“We touch.” He stated simply. He needn't over-explain. That really was all they had to do just then, although quite surely, they'd be doing more, or at least he hoped. He trailed his fingertips up the Prince's spine, leaning his head against the smaller boy's and inhaling: white rice and honey, and maybe dust.
Duck felt herself stiffen as Mytho reached out, even though she'd been trying so hard to will herself into calmness. She supposed that calmness just didn't work that way. She faced Mytho, lying on her side, staring into brilliant eyes and wondering just what Fakir was doing to make Mytho gasp like that. They were all naked now except her, but she was frightened of removing the last of her security-and they hadn't yet requested that she remove it-so perhaps it was alright for the moment.
She shivered from the cold air and found herself wondering if all the boy's dorms were this cold. She wanted to move closer to Mytho-she really did-but that meant that Mytho's, his well, his penis would be touching her, and it was so strange and weird-
“You do know the mechanics, right?” Fakir's curt voice broke through the air. She wasn't quite sure to whom he was talking, to her or Mytho, so she chose not respond. Her voice was too cracked and nervous anyway.
“Mechanics?” Mytho asked, the word hovering in the silent room.
“About s-ex,” Fakir stumbled over the word, “do you know anything about it all?” Duck knew the gist, although with three people-two boys-she wasn't quite sure, and her mind stumbled with vague ideas.
“You put this-” Mytho started, and Fakir gasped. Duck could guess what he'd done, “Inside of Duck, or me? Right, Fakir?” Sure, Mytho's honesty was sometimes endearing but sometimes Duck just wished he was a little more-
“Or I can put mine in Duck, or you? Right, Fakir? Is that how it works?” Eloquent. Just a tad bit.
Duck could feel her face heat up at the mention of anyone putting their anything else inside of anyone, and she felt pretty immature for it. It was what they where there for, after all. Fakir sighed, he just knew he'd have to explain this to Mytho, and Duck too probably-all the stupid, nitty-gritty, embarrassing details-his cheeks reddened but really, it was getting sort of old and he was more nervous now than anything.
The three sat in silence and Fakir attempted to come to some personal resolutions, ones like just exactly how they were going to do this, and just exactly how to word it so that Mytho would understand and so that Duck wouldn't be scared off.
Mytho quirked his head at the silence, had he said something wrong? He glanced at Fakir over his should and threw him a questioning look. He felt like maybe he'd said something wrong again, and his prick was beginning to get uncomfortable again-to hurt-he'd been waiting the longest after all.
While Mytho tried to figure out a way to ask for something he wasn't quite sure of, Duck herself was coming to some personal resolutions, and conclusions, and of course, Duck, being Duck, confusions as well.
“Umm, Fakir, I don't really know a lot about this sorta thing, but when you say put y-your th-thing inside of Mytho doyou, do-y-you mean, like, I mean, I don't mean to be stupid or anything, but I mean, do you plan to...uh, put your-um-just, uhm, is it like the same as a girl? I'm sorry! I'm so stupid of course I know it's not the same, but I mean, do you put it there?” And any normal person might have had no idea (or very little) of what she was talking about, but then of course, this was Fakir we were talking about, practically a trained professional, and well, the way she'd said there, clearly meant there, and-
“Yea.” He said through gritted teeth. Okay, scratch that, he wasn't just nervous, he was dying from humiliation.
Duck found herself flushing. She must have sounded like a complete idiot, of course he's gonna put it there-where else would he put it?
“Look, I'm going to put my, ah-” But he really couldn't bring himself to say it, and found himself choking on his own words before he could get halfway through the sentence.
Giving up on words, he was on top of Mytho again, lips centimeters away.
“Where is there, Fakir?” Mytho asked curiously, staring into jade eyes and breaking the seriousness of the moment. Fakir flushed again. “I-I'm just-don't worry about it now.”
Mytho said nothing more and it gave Fakir enough drive to finally close the space in between them. Fakir had only kissed a handful of times, and only ever kissed Mytho twice before, but he found himself wondering why this wasn't an activity that he did all the time.
He brushed his tongue against Mytho's lips-lightly and hesitantly-hoping, praying that for once Mytho would just take a hint.
Mytho, though ignorant, was not stupid, and he found himself mimicking Fakir's actions, running his tongue against the Knight's lips, tasting something that was just Fakir. Fakir nearly startled at the unexpected response, and he could feel his heart rate increasing, his dick twitching against his stomach. He'd never been so close to the Prince before, so close with no clothing-only skin and air in between them.
The need to move things along was steadily mounting, and the green eyed boy found his fingertips running across skin and his lips instinctively slipping down until they were against Mytho's neck. He began tonguing across it lightly, and then he finally gave into the strange urge to nip against the other boy's skin, just the tiniest bit. Mytho made the most encouraging sounds-exposing more of his neck in the process-and Fakir found himself slipping a leg in between Mytho's.
He bit again, not much harder-to afraid he'd hurt the boy who'd always seemed so delicate-and then he found himself overtop one of Mytho's legs.
Duck watched, captivated as Fakir's lips worked against pale skin. She stared as Fakir brought his knee forward just the tiniest bit, so that it brushed in between Mytho's legs. Her breath caught in her throat, surprised as Mytho began to grind against it. The Prince lifted his knee then, causing Fakir to fall forward as he was forced to straddle it, his ass going into the air just the tiniest bit. Their lips connected again and then it was Fakir's turn to grin-hips jerking against the the Prince's knee.
She wanted to be part of it, part of them, but she found herself unsure of how to go about such a thing and so instead focused on resisting the urge to touch that part of herself.
“Fakir, I-it's, ah!-too m-much.” Fakir felt bad for the teasing touches that he'd been providing the Prince with up until now, knowing full-well how badly and how long Mytho had been asking for the m. He swallowed, resolving try something new, shifting a bit.
“...ahh! F-Fakir...!” The way Mytho stumbled over his name sent blood rushing to his prick, and he couldn't even imagine having to wait as long as Mytho had been waiting. The Prince had a surprising amount of endurance.
The dark-haired boy breathed in deeply and tried to pretend his every movement wasn't being watched as he slid down Mytho's body-the white-haired boy groaned at the loss of friction-until he was eye level with Mytho's erection.
His closed eyes for a moment, building up the confidence, before wrapping his hand's around the base-Mytho groaned again-and leaning down to lick the head. Mytho bucked so suddenly that it almost threw Fakir off balance, but he shifted forward anyway, using his elbows to keep Mytho's hips from moving again, and leaned down for another experimental taste.
All in all it just sort of tasted like sweat and skin, not something really distasteful or delicious, but Mytho's needy voices encouraged him to continue, so he tilted his head and dragged his tongue up the side of Mytho's shaft.
“Aah-Fakir, I-it-” Fakir found his prick hardening further-if that were even possible-and he wondered vaguely how Duck was reacting to display. He was suddenly struck by a nostalgic feeling, like the feeling he got when dancing. Performing for other people was something he'd been doing for ages. If he only pretended that this was merely another dance, another show-it'd be easy.
Fakir brought his head back, licking the top a few times in succession, before slowly bringing his lips loosely around it. He pulled back a bit-to lick his lips-before leaning back down and wrapping his mouth around the head.
“Aah...! P-please Fakir,” Mytho swallowed and tried to regain the ability to speak, “Fakir, please, I-I-” The Prince wasn't quite sure what was happening to him, but he could feel something building up, heat spreading throughout his body and he felt so incredibly close to something.
Fakir couldn't believe how vocal Mytho was being-someone otherwise so quiet and reserved. Duck found herself choking on disbelief, that anyone-that her Prince was making those kinds of noises-and that Fakir was really putting his mouth around Mytho's-thing! It just seemed kind of gross-not like Mytho was gross-but that maybe his thing, well, she was sure Mytho cleaned and took showers and everything and Fakir had probably brushed his teeth but somehow it just didn't seem like a place you were supposed to be putting your mouth.
“Fak-ir!” Mytho drew the last syllable out as Fakir began flicking his tongue across the warm head in way that apparently felt very nice.
Mytho found his legs shaking and his hips spasming as heat spread out to the tips of his toes. Unsure of himself, but really hoping he was doing this right, Fakir gave a wet suck-just around the head-and suddenly found himself choking. Pleasure shot through every nerve in his Prince's body and he threw his head back and screwed his eyes shut, mouth agape. There were no thoughts left in his mind except for Fakir, Fakir, Fakir.
The warm liquid that hit Fakir's tongue both disgusted and shocked him, so much that his grip on Mytho's hips loosened, and then Mytho-still in a the throws of ecstasy-bucked once, twice, and luckily Fakir had resisted the urge to gag before pulling back and spitting out the offending liquid. An apology might have been nice, but Fakir knew better-Mytho would have no idea what to be sorry for anyway-maybe he could teach him later, Duck too and-
The Knight coughed a few times, breathing heavy, and attempted to regain his composure while Mytho rode out the aftershocks, trembling and panting heavily. Fakir felt almost as dazed as Mytho at first, unwilling to believe exactly what had happened. He felt out of touch until a quiet, nervous voice broke the spell:
“Fakir, uhm...I'm not really-uh-uh, I mean, maybe I should uh, take off...” The tiny voice worried into nothingness but it left a heavy echo throughout the room. The dark-haired teen tensed and froze, and then rather slowly, he turned to look at the offender.
Duck sat nervously with wide eyes and pink tinged cheeks, fumbling with the hem of her white and yellow duck printed underwear. She glanced up from beneath untamed bangs.
“I just thought,” her eyes shifted to the left uneasily before flickering back to Fakir's face, “that probably maybe I should, uhm, you know-because you and Mytho don't have any clothes on anymore...” Duck looked away and swallowed, gathering her courage.
Fakir watched eagerly but almost shamefully as Duck determinedly grasped the hem of her panties, and with a few jerky motions had them pulled down past her knees. His eyes widened, and he swallowed thickly, looking away.
Seeing someone else naked, someone who wasn't Mytho and already prone to pantless states-it had Fakir unsure of what to do with himself. He knew that he couldn't embarrass Mytho by looking too much, but this wasn't Mytho-it was a girl, and not just any girl-but the over-the-top, easily blushing, Princess-slash-Duck-slash-girl. This was Ahiru.
The sense of corrupting innocents returned for a second time as he looked back towards Duck and noticed the sparse hair between her legs. He closed his eyes again and brought his fingertips to his brow. He practiced the breathing exercises he'd learned during ballet practice. He clenched his eyes shut.
The familiar sense of corrupting innocents returned three-fold when Mytho finally sat up and asked, “What's wrong Fakir? What happened?” and then, Duck, voice trembling, hesitantly asked, “Fakir?”
He hadn't realized it was a question of consent, and without warning (his eyes were still closed after-all) he found that he had himself a lap-full of wriggling, blushing Duck. Fakir could feel himself stiffen in more ways than one, barely restraining a gasp as her warm skin brushed against his own. He cracked open his eyes, and realized, much to his relief, that Duck was resting her forehead on his shoulder, eyes downcast-he wouldn't have to meet her eyes.
Just when Fakir thought he'd gained control of himself, Duck shifted in his lap.
Fakir felt frozen in place, unable to move-honestly believing he couldn't-until his golden eyed Prince was kneeling behind him and caressing his shoulders. Mytho caught on fast. He ran his fingertips through Fakir's spiky hair, and whispered softly into his ear, “You made me feel good, Fakir, thank you.” Fakir could feel his face heating again-as if sex was the kind of thing you were supposed to say thank you for!
“Can I make you feel good Fakir, can I...?” Mytho trailed off, opting not finish his sentence, instead reaching around Fakir's torso-between him and Duck-and brushing lightly against Fakir's twitching cock.
Fakir's mouth flew open in a silent gasp and he bucked-just a little-grinding against that place between Duck's legs in the process.
“Mhmp!” Duck barely muffled the embarrassing noise that bubbled up her delicate throat. She honestly just didn't-ah!-know what to do with herself. This kind of situation was-of course-new to Duck. When Fakir rubbed his-his prick there-it felt strange, like tingly and ticklish and-
“...ah!” This was so embarrassing. She kept her head against Fakir's shoulder-she'd never be able to look anyone in the eyes again!
Fakir could feel Mytho's cock hardening again against his back-and strangely enough found himself unsurprised-he supposed Mytho had to make up for lost time or something-
Duck whimpered against him, moving her hips noticeably forward, and Fakir found himself grinding back; warm cock brushing against the softness between her legs. Mytho released Fakir's prick, suddenly remembering something Fakir had done to him, earlier-and reached thin fingers around Fakir's torso to firmly grasp his nipples.
The feeling had Fakir swallowing heavily, and grinding harder, less and less able to think clearly with his arousal. He grasped Duck's hips-pulling her almost a little too roughly-and pulled her smaller form flush against his bigger one; chest to chest, with his prick perfectly aligned beneath her.
Duck was making too much noise-she knew it-she was always so loud all the time. Fakir probably wanted her to just shut-up, but then he wasn't telling her that, and he usually did tell her when he wanted her to be quiet so maybe he didn't really mind the noise...?
Duck arched a bit, the feel of Fakir's prick between her legs was, was...intense. She could feel the entire length of it beneath her, and she found herself slowly grinding against it, her body heating and tensing and begging for more friction. She felt like she was on fire, just her chest brushing against his-it sent her mind reeling.
Then something changed a bit as Fakir jerked his hips forward; his prick slid between the slit in Duck's cunt. There was a simultaneous gasp at the new sensation, and this time when Fakir drew back, his cock was slick and slippery. He swallowed roughly, and thrust forward a few more times, reveling in the new feel the wetness created.
The pleasure was short lived for worry, however, as Fakir's dick slipped a little differently and he found it prodding Duck's entrance, centimeters away from being encased in slick heat.
Duck knew what was about to happen and braced herself-this was something she really wanted-and she was so hot and she really, really needed something. She pushed forward a bit, angling her bottom down, but strong hands at her hips stopped her.
Fakir leaned forward, voice shaky and strained, “I-I-we, uh, we need to, umm-” Fakir sounded breathless, so he swallowed and took a deep breath through his nose. He wrapped his hands around timid shoulders and pushed Duck gently back. He swallowed again, and then determinedly looked into her eyes-the first time since the whole thing had started.
Softly he said, “Hey idiot, we-” He glanced away briefly before making eye contact again, “We have to use protection. Or do you wanna end up pregnant?”
Duck squeaked at the implication. Duck, pregnant with Fakir's child? Pregnant?! Oh man, oh man! Why the heck hadn't she though of that? Of course she could get pregnant! Fakir must think she's such an idiot-just like those stupid girls who get all gaga over a boy, and next thing you know they're in the abortion clinic-abortion?! Duck couldn't get an abortion? What if-
“This is how girls become pregnant, Fakir? This is how life is created?” Mytho's voice was soft as usual, interested and curious.
Fakir covered his face with his hands. He really was a pervert. He was having sex with a girl who forgot that sex could lead to pregnancy-and a boy, a boy-(even if it was kind of different because it was Mytho) who didn't even know that that's how babies are created in the first place!
“Yes Mytho.” Fakir managed out, regretting having said the word pregnant at all.
:::
continuez
:::
Genre: Comedy/Romance
Pairing: Fakir/Mytho/Duck
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: awkwardness, first time
Summary: The prince and the knight and the...duck? In a bed! Duck swears she hasn't watched those videos that Pike and Lilie were talking about.
Amour de Trois
:::
démarrer
:::
The bed seemed smaller than usual, more cramped and uncomfortable than the first time. Maybe it was the nervousness that comes with knowing what's about to happen that was taking up so much space. Maybe the bed had shrunk while they were in the hallway.
Fakir's previous authority had seemingly drained from his very skin and been replaced with a hot feeling and a red face. He sat and fidgeted, trying to think of all the right things to say but instead saying nothing at all.
Duck glanced around unnecessarily, as if she'd never before been inside of Fakir and Mytho's dorm. She had, but of course she'd been more interested in other things then, not the matching tapestry or the bunched up sheets or the clothes in heaps on the floor. In fact, what little Duck did remember of the room was that it was meticulously clean, and there certainly hadn't been a knocked over glass of water on the floor.
“How come your room is such a mess?” She blurted before she could even stop herself. Duck really had a way with saying the wrong things and the wrong times.
“Fakir and I were getting changed.” Mytho offered in explanation. Duck's imagination and the glimpse of what she'd seen earlier filled in the rest.
“Oh, right.” Duck had actually forgotten about school, to be honest. About Mytho and Fakir and-
“Do you think it'll be suspicious that we're all absent from school on the same day?” Duck slapped a hand to her face and went back to observing the curtains.
Mytho wondered why Fakir wasn't touching him when he'd been doing it so spectacularly before Duck had arrived. The Prince was aching again, and his heart was burning, and hadn't Fakir told him that he was always going to do what was best for him?
“Touch me, Fakir?” Mytho asked, voice soft. It might have been tentative, but Mytho had nothing to bring him hesitation, no semblance of social norms to understand why the other two were so quiet.
Fakir muttered a quiet yea, much to Duck's surprise and shifted forward. The dark-haired boy was against Mytho and touching him seemingly all at once, and Duck was positive that she had not just felt a pang of jealousy.
She watched from behind her hands-only a little less embarrassed than the last time-as Fakir shifted him flat on his back.
Fakir kept touching Mytho's stomach, so much softer than anything else she'd ever seen Fakir do, and the simplicity of his fingers on Mytho's pale skin entranced her. The Knight dipped into his naval and danced circles around his nipples, and then, much to Duck's surprise, he pinched them lightly. Duck squeaked when Mytho groaned at the sensation. She'd no idea that boy's nipples were the same in that way. Well she wasn't really that stupid, she knew boy's nipples could get hard, but she didn't know you could touch them like a girls' and they'd feel it like a girl would.
Mytho glanced at her from beneath thick lashes-probably surprised at all her squeaking-and offered her an unabashed smile. She reddened. Their Prince was neither suave nor charismatic, just honest and without embarrassment, which was perhaps so much better. It meant that whatever Mytho said, he really, truly meant, and that nothing he said was ever showy or with the desire to please or woo. It was just what Mytho wanted to say.
Mytho's smile disappeared behind a gasp, and Duck found herself squirming beneath her school uniform in a fairly similarly inappropriate manner. She took a deep breath and glanced away for a moment, to compose herself, and when she turned back around Fakir had his long fingers wrapped around Mytho's...Mytho's, his well, Duck couldn't quite bring herself to even think it.
She swallowed and forced herself not to turn away. You've done this before, she kept telling herself. She knew however, that it hadn't been like this, that she hadn't actually seen Mytho's well, his thing. It was strange and foreign to her, like nothing she was used to. If she were honest with herself, she'd never even seen a boy's thing outside of babies and art and that one time she walked in on someone by accident in the bathroom. None of her previous experiences had been quite so exhilarating, however. She edged closer, holding her breath. She told herself she could this, that she'd done it before, that if she closed her eyes, it'd be just like before-
“What are you doing?” Fakir's voice cut through her thoughts, and when she opened her eyes, she noticed he'd stopped his motions and Mytho was eying her curiously. They glanced at her arm, and then she did too, and she noticed it was outstretched just centimeters away from well, from Mytho's, um, his-penis-she forced herself to think, with a blush. She imagined how ridiculous she must look, stretched halfway across the bed with her eyes clenched shut.
She realized suddenly that they were probably expecting an answer, particularly when Fakir gave her an impatient look and Mytho squirmed.
“I was ummm, you know, gonna, I was reach-I was gonna um, you know, like last time...” Duck was more stuttery than usual, unable to find a sentence to describe what she was about to do and not be embarrassed at the same time.
Fakir rolled his eyes, feeling more confident after his earlier romp with Mytho and the arguments in the hallway.
“I know that, but why are you doing it with your eyes closed from halfway across the bed? You look like an imbecile.” Duck resisted the urge to squawk indignantly. She knew he was right. She was just afraid or nervous, or something, right?
Mytho shifted his hips again, and Duck tried not to watch as his, his-penis-bounced a bit and tapped against his stomach.
Fakir, finally and completely fed up with words, grabbed Duck by her arm and pulled her significantly closer to the other two. Mytho was still flat on his back, smiling as the two people that cared for him touched him tenderly. With their hearts.
And maybe a bit with their hands.
Fakir seated himself over top of Mytho's legs, just below the knees, and without too much trouble or embarrassment had Duck similarly seated in front of him, albeit closer to Mytho's cock. Duck shifted her hips a bit, accidentally brushing back against Fakir and his own erection, and he tried to contain a shiver. Duck seemed not to notice. She scooched herself up more, so that she was seated just below Mytho's penis. Penis, she could at least think it now. She took a deep breath, and without too much hesitation wrapped her hands firmly around Mytho's cock.
The Prince responded nearly instantaneously, keening and bucking as Duck continued a simple up-and-down motion with both of her hands. She swallowed nervously. She wasn't sure what else there was to do. Just up-and-down, right? And then faster?
Fakir moved forward until he was flush against Duck, his tented erection brushing against her backside. The Knight reached around slowly, as to not startle the Princess into a fit of quacking, and-swallowing deeply and trying not to shake-laid his hands tenderly against her chest. She stiffened and slowed down her motions, but otherwise seemed to be adjusting to the feeling.
“I just-” Fakir wasn't sure what to say, because 'hey can I grope your chest?' just didn't quite cut it.
“It's um, I-I...I uh, okay?” Fakir managed out finally, tripping over words. Everything was so much different when it came to Duck.
“Y-yeah.” Vigorous head-nodding; she scooched back a little.
Fakir's own embarrassment and nervousness was the only thing keeping him from grinding against her. He was finding himself more aroused than ever, and his recent lack of masturbation certainly wasn't helping matters. Instead he began fiddling with her chest through her school uniform, brushing his fingers where he could feel what might have been breasts, feeling tiny nubs harden beneath the fabric.
Duck gasped and shuddered, pulled Mytho a little to roughly, and his eyebrows furrowed as he cried out. Fakir stopped immediately, making a mental note that she obviously wasn't capable of doing two things at once.
“Idiot,” He muttered against her ear, “Be careful, do you want to hurt him? Sheesh.” He meant little of what he said, quite aware that if anyone was to blame for the accident, it was certainly him.
“I'm sorry! I didn't realize, I mean, it was an accident, it's just because because you were-” Her voice was becoming higher with every word and cracking around the edges.
“It's okay, Duck. It doesn't hurt anymore.” Mytho reassured her-and it was a good thing too, because Fakir hadn't planned on it. This whole thing was uncomfortable enough already.
Literally. He shifted against her again, and she squirmed, and then he shifted because she was squirming, and well, chain reaction, really.
“Shouldn't you take off your clothes, too?” Mytho spoke up softly, watching with amusement in his eyes as they shifted again. Mytho had no understanding of modesty at all. Duck fidgeted with the hem of her shirt and Fakir could feel his palms begin to sweat.
They sat in silence for a few moments, shifting uncomfortably and trying to figure out just what to do when Duck finally decided to make a move. She would be the brave one this time, she kept telling herself. Besides, it wasn't as if Fakir hadn't seen her undressed after she'd changed back into a girl, even if it was for just a few seconds-and plus, just the other day they'd both seen her down to her underwear-but she couldn't believe she was going to do this!
Still playing with the hem of her shirt, she inhaled deeply and began to undo the vest, and then-slower than necessary-lifting the dress beneath it up over her shoulders until it was just a sky blue heap on the floor.
It really helped that her back was to Fakir. Mytho stayed in place, smiling up at her curiously. Her torso was much similar to his own, skinny and covered in skin and there was a belly button towards the bottom-but unlike him it was softer and less jagged, and then of course her, well, they certainly weren't breasts, but it was soft there and maybe there were small lumps that protruded the tiniest bit. She was a duck at the end of the day.
Her underwear were cute and white-Fakir could tell even from behind her-and the top was bordered with little little yellow ducks. He could practically feel the blood rushing to his face at the innocence of it all.
“Umm...” Duck was biting her lip, unsure of what to do between the two boys, and feeling rather self-conscious at her lack of breasts or womanly figure. Mytho didn't seem to notice.
He sat himself up on his forearms, and then began moving completely upright, throwing the other two off balance, Duck falling backwards into Fakir. Mytho retracted his legs until they were underneath him, kneeling, pushing off his boxers-the only clothing he'd had-in the process.
Duck was too busy trying to scramble off of Fakir to notice, blushing and fumbling and saying sorry sorry sorry.
“Hey, calm down. I don't want you fainting like you did the last time.” Fakir said it in an aggravated tone, but Duck could sense the tenderness in the words.
She stilled and found herself staring down at a face equally as embarrassed as her own. She felt naked and exposed, probably just because of the simple fact that she was stripped down to her underwear. She held her weight on all fours, afraid to straddle Fakir's waist-afraid too touch him at all-and stared down nervously as her braid brushed against his cheek.
“Umm, F-Fakir...” She started, shivering from the lack of clothes and coldness of the room, she wasn't sure what she should be saying. “It's, um, I'm k-kinda cold.” Fakir didn't say anything and Duck looked away feeling stupid, when suddenly she felt trembling hands grab her hips and pull them down firmly. She swallowed and squirmed, the heat radiating from Fakir's clothed cock flushing beneath her.
Fakir breathed in slowly, hands still on thin hips, and he tried to convince himself that what he was about to do was okay. He told himself that he was only a year older, only a bit taller, and only a bit more experienced. He still felt like a pervert somehow. Sometimes he felt like Duck was just too innocent for all this, that he was corrupting young minds or something.
She shifted against him and his cock was became perfectly aligned between her legs and suddenly none of that mattered. He ground his hips and pulled hers down again, rubbing his trapped cock against the warmth between her legs.
“ah...!” The noise tumbled out of her throat and was followed by a soft gasp as he repeated the action. Fakir never knew that such a dope-headed girl was capable of making such erotic noises. He swallowed and clenched his eyes shut, grinding again, and for for a few moments forgetting any hesitation or embarrassment.
But only for a few moments, because then, of course, Mytho spoke:
“Me too, Fakir?” Fakir's eyes snapped open and he turned his head, eyes searching Mytho out. Truth be told he'd forgotten the Prince's presence, and guilt washed over him in waves.
His voice was choked, “Y-eah, Mytho I-” He shifted, releasing Duck's hips and supporting his weight with his elbows. She hid her embarrassment by looking at the sheets.
“Duck?” Mytho whispered, suddenly beside her and very, very close. Fakir watched nervously, curiously, wondering what the Prince would do with limited knowledge and even more limited experience.
Without warning Mytho was straddling Fakir too, but in the opposite direction, so that Fakir really only got a clear view of his back and skinny bottom and Duck's long pointy hair poking up above their heads.
Mytho stared into surprised blue eyes, and Fakir could hear him softly saying, “I've never kissed you, Duck.”
Then he leaned down-he was a bit taller than her after all-and pressed his lips against hers' like he remembered doing with Fakir. The feeling was very similar-it made the pain cease and his heart flutter-but yet very different: softer, and gentler and more timid.
Mytho groaned suddenly, fierce and needy, and then just as sudden-he bucked against her. Then again. Her eyes widened as he rubbed his cock against her through the thin patterned fabric of her underwear, surprised and pleased. Mytho gave another uncoordinated jerk and she found herself grasping his shoulders and leaning her head in the crook of his neck. Mytho had no shame as he continued to rut, and soon Duck found herself becoming wet-something she'd experienced before but never had much use for-and wanting him more and faster.
Fakir was on the verge of insanity at the maddening slow pace that the other two seemed to enjoy, and the two of them rocking on top of him-Mytho's ass brushing against him just so-it was driving him crazy. Of course he also couldn't see anything. In a surge of dominance he sat up and wrapped his arms simultaneously around Duck and Mytho, crushing them against one another and dragging him down until he was once looming over them, Duck looking unsure of herself and Mytho looking practically entertain, though flushed.
He stared down at them with no real idea of what to do, no plan in mind, and feeling quite ridiculous for suddenly moving everything like he had. He was sure about the mechanics of sex-both kinds-and although three made it a bit more complicated, he still should have been able to figure something out.
Yet instead he sat with a dumbly blank mind and a pink face. Did Duck know the mechanics of sex at all-of any kind? Mytho certainly didn't-but then he had read his diary, so perhaps the very basics at best-but clearly not enough to know anything about, well...
He inhaled deeply, promising himself not to ramble on like Duck ever again, and began the impossible task of removing his clothing. Duck and Mytho both watched him like he was a regular after-school special-or in this case, perhaps the before school special-and Fakir found his hands sweaty and his fingers slipping. It took him longer than it should have to remove his clothing, and once he'd finally finished, the desire to cover himself was so great that he almost reached for a pillow.
But that would have been ridiculous, considering what he was about to do.
He swallowed and decided to lay down on the right side of the bed towards the end, putting the golden-eyed boy between the Duck and the Knight. He was facing Mytho's back, and just when he'd gotten up the courage to touch his shoulders Mytho interrupted the strained silence,
“What do we do now Fakir?” Of course, so Mytho didn't even know the basics.
“We touch.” He stated simply. He needn't over-explain. That really was all they had to do just then, although quite surely, they'd be doing more, or at least he hoped. He trailed his fingertips up the Prince's spine, leaning his head against the smaller boy's and inhaling: white rice and honey, and maybe dust.
Duck felt herself stiffen as Mytho reached out, even though she'd been trying so hard to will herself into calmness. She supposed that calmness just didn't work that way. She faced Mytho, lying on her side, staring into brilliant eyes and wondering just what Fakir was doing to make Mytho gasp like that. They were all naked now except her, but she was frightened of removing the last of her security-and they hadn't yet requested that she remove it-so perhaps it was alright for the moment.
She shivered from the cold air and found herself wondering if all the boy's dorms were this cold. She wanted to move closer to Mytho-she really did-but that meant that Mytho's, his well, his penis would be touching her, and it was so strange and weird-
“You do know the mechanics, right?” Fakir's curt voice broke through the air. She wasn't quite sure to whom he was talking, to her or Mytho, so she chose not respond. Her voice was too cracked and nervous anyway.
“Mechanics?” Mytho asked, the word hovering in the silent room.
“About s-ex,” Fakir stumbled over the word, “do you know anything about it all?” Duck knew the gist, although with three people-two boys-she wasn't quite sure, and her mind stumbled with vague ideas.
“You put this-” Mytho started, and Fakir gasped. Duck could guess what he'd done, “Inside of Duck, or me? Right, Fakir?” Sure, Mytho's honesty was sometimes endearing but sometimes Duck just wished he was a little more-
“Or I can put mine in Duck, or you? Right, Fakir? Is that how it works?” Eloquent. Just a tad bit.
Duck could feel her face heat up at the mention of anyone putting their anything else inside of anyone, and she felt pretty immature for it. It was what they where there for, after all. Fakir sighed, he just knew he'd have to explain this to Mytho, and Duck too probably-all the stupid, nitty-gritty, embarrassing details-his cheeks reddened but really, it was getting sort of old and he was more nervous now than anything.
The three sat in silence and Fakir attempted to come to some personal resolutions, ones like just exactly how they were going to do this, and just exactly how to word it so that Mytho would understand and so that Duck wouldn't be scared off.
Mytho quirked his head at the silence, had he said something wrong? He glanced at Fakir over his should and threw him a questioning look. He felt like maybe he'd said something wrong again, and his prick was beginning to get uncomfortable again-to hurt-he'd been waiting the longest after all.
While Mytho tried to figure out a way to ask for something he wasn't quite sure of, Duck herself was coming to some personal resolutions, and conclusions, and of course, Duck, being Duck, confusions as well.
“Umm, Fakir, I don't really know a lot about this sorta thing, but when you say put y-your th-thing inside of Mytho doyou, do-y-you mean, like, I mean, I don't mean to be stupid or anything, but I mean, do you plan to...uh, put your-um-just, uhm, is it like the same as a girl? I'm sorry! I'm so stupid of course I know it's not the same, but I mean, do you put it there?” And any normal person might have had no idea (or very little) of what she was talking about, but then of course, this was Fakir we were talking about, practically a trained professional, and well, the way she'd said there, clearly meant there, and-
“Yea.” He said through gritted teeth. Okay, scratch that, he wasn't just nervous, he was dying from humiliation.
Duck found herself flushing. She must have sounded like a complete idiot, of course he's gonna put it there-where else would he put it?
“Look, I'm going to put my, ah-” But he really couldn't bring himself to say it, and found himself choking on his own words before he could get halfway through the sentence.
Giving up on words, he was on top of Mytho again, lips centimeters away.
“Where is there, Fakir?” Mytho asked curiously, staring into jade eyes and breaking the seriousness of the moment. Fakir flushed again. “I-I'm just-don't worry about it now.”
Mytho said nothing more and it gave Fakir enough drive to finally close the space in between them. Fakir had only kissed a handful of times, and only ever kissed Mytho twice before, but he found himself wondering why this wasn't an activity that he did all the time.
He brushed his tongue against Mytho's lips-lightly and hesitantly-hoping, praying that for once Mytho would just take a hint.
Mytho, though ignorant, was not stupid, and he found himself mimicking Fakir's actions, running his tongue against the Knight's lips, tasting something that was just Fakir. Fakir nearly startled at the unexpected response, and he could feel his heart rate increasing, his dick twitching against his stomach. He'd never been so close to the Prince before, so close with no clothing-only skin and air in between them.
The need to move things along was steadily mounting, and the green eyed boy found his fingertips running across skin and his lips instinctively slipping down until they were against Mytho's neck. He began tonguing across it lightly, and then he finally gave into the strange urge to nip against the other boy's skin, just the tiniest bit. Mytho made the most encouraging sounds-exposing more of his neck in the process-and Fakir found himself slipping a leg in between Mytho's.
He bit again, not much harder-to afraid he'd hurt the boy who'd always seemed so delicate-and then he found himself overtop one of Mytho's legs.
Duck watched, captivated as Fakir's lips worked against pale skin. She stared as Fakir brought his knee forward just the tiniest bit, so that it brushed in between Mytho's legs. Her breath caught in her throat, surprised as Mytho began to grind against it. The Prince lifted his knee then, causing Fakir to fall forward as he was forced to straddle it, his ass going into the air just the tiniest bit. Their lips connected again and then it was Fakir's turn to grin-hips jerking against the the Prince's knee.
She wanted to be part of it, part of them, but she found herself unsure of how to go about such a thing and so instead focused on resisting the urge to touch that part of herself.
“Fakir, I-it's, ah!-too m-much.” Fakir felt bad for the teasing touches that he'd been providing the Prince with up until now, knowing full-well how badly and how long Mytho had been asking for the m. He swallowed, resolving try something new, shifting a bit.
“...ahh! F-Fakir...!” The way Mytho stumbled over his name sent blood rushing to his prick, and he couldn't even imagine having to wait as long as Mytho had been waiting. The Prince had a surprising amount of endurance.
The dark-haired boy breathed in deeply and tried to pretend his every movement wasn't being watched as he slid down Mytho's body-the white-haired boy groaned at the loss of friction-until he was eye level with Mytho's erection.
His closed eyes for a moment, building up the confidence, before wrapping his hand's around the base-Mytho groaned again-and leaning down to lick the head. Mytho bucked so suddenly that it almost threw Fakir off balance, but he shifted forward anyway, using his elbows to keep Mytho's hips from moving again, and leaned down for another experimental taste.
All in all it just sort of tasted like sweat and skin, not something really distasteful or delicious, but Mytho's needy voices encouraged him to continue, so he tilted his head and dragged his tongue up the side of Mytho's shaft.
“Aah-Fakir, I-it-” Fakir found his prick hardening further-if that were even possible-and he wondered vaguely how Duck was reacting to display. He was suddenly struck by a nostalgic feeling, like the feeling he got when dancing. Performing for other people was something he'd been doing for ages. If he only pretended that this was merely another dance, another show-it'd be easy.
Fakir brought his head back, licking the top a few times in succession, before slowly bringing his lips loosely around it. He pulled back a bit-to lick his lips-before leaning back down and wrapping his mouth around the head.
“Aah...! P-please Fakir,” Mytho swallowed and tried to regain the ability to speak, “Fakir, please, I-I-” The Prince wasn't quite sure what was happening to him, but he could feel something building up, heat spreading throughout his body and he felt so incredibly close to something.
Fakir couldn't believe how vocal Mytho was being-someone otherwise so quiet and reserved. Duck found herself choking on disbelief, that anyone-that her Prince was making those kinds of noises-and that Fakir was really putting his mouth around Mytho's-thing! It just seemed kind of gross-not like Mytho was gross-but that maybe his thing, well, she was sure Mytho cleaned and took showers and everything and Fakir had probably brushed his teeth but somehow it just didn't seem like a place you were supposed to be putting your mouth.
“Fak-ir!” Mytho drew the last syllable out as Fakir began flicking his tongue across the warm head in way that apparently felt very nice.
Mytho found his legs shaking and his hips spasming as heat spread out to the tips of his toes. Unsure of himself, but really hoping he was doing this right, Fakir gave a wet suck-just around the head-and suddenly found himself choking. Pleasure shot through every nerve in his Prince's body and he threw his head back and screwed his eyes shut, mouth agape. There were no thoughts left in his mind except for Fakir, Fakir, Fakir.
The warm liquid that hit Fakir's tongue both disgusted and shocked him, so much that his grip on Mytho's hips loosened, and then Mytho-still in a the throws of ecstasy-bucked once, twice, and luckily Fakir had resisted the urge to gag before pulling back and spitting out the offending liquid. An apology might have been nice, but Fakir knew better-Mytho would have no idea what to be sorry for anyway-maybe he could teach him later, Duck too and-
The Knight coughed a few times, breathing heavy, and attempted to regain his composure while Mytho rode out the aftershocks, trembling and panting heavily. Fakir felt almost as dazed as Mytho at first, unwilling to believe exactly what had happened. He felt out of touch until a quiet, nervous voice broke the spell:
“Fakir, uhm...I'm not really-uh-uh, I mean, maybe I should uh, take off...” The tiny voice worried into nothingness but it left a heavy echo throughout the room. The dark-haired teen tensed and froze, and then rather slowly, he turned to look at the offender.
Duck sat nervously with wide eyes and pink tinged cheeks, fumbling with the hem of her white and yellow duck printed underwear. She glanced up from beneath untamed bangs.
“I just thought,” her eyes shifted to the left uneasily before flickering back to Fakir's face, “that probably maybe I should, uhm, you know-because you and Mytho don't have any clothes on anymore...” Duck looked away and swallowed, gathering her courage.
Fakir watched eagerly but almost shamefully as Duck determinedly grasped the hem of her panties, and with a few jerky motions had them pulled down past her knees. His eyes widened, and he swallowed thickly, looking away.
Seeing someone else naked, someone who wasn't Mytho and already prone to pantless states-it had Fakir unsure of what to do with himself. He knew that he couldn't embarrass Mytho by looking too much, but this wasn't Mytho-it was a girl, and not just any girl-but the over-the-top, easily blushing, Princess-slash-Duck-slash-girl. This was Ahiru.
The sense of corrupting innocents returned for a second time as he looked back towards Duck and noticed the sparse hair between her legs. He closed his eyes again and brought his fingertips to his brow. He practiced the breathing exercises he'd learned during ballet practice. He clenched his eyes shut.
The familiar sense of corrupting innocents returned three-fold when Mytho finally sat up and asked, “What's wrong Fakir? What happened?” and then, Duck, voice trembling, hesitantly asked, “Fakir?”
He hadn't realized it was a question of consent, and without warning (his eyes were still closed after-all) he found that he had himself a lap-full of wriggling, blushing Duck. Fakir could feel himself stiffen in more ways than one, barely restraining a gasp as her warm skin brushed against his own. He cracked open his eyes, and realized, much to his relief, that Duck was resting her forehead on his shoulder, eyes downcast-he wouldn't have to meet her eyes.
Just when Fakir thought he'd gained control of himself, Duck shifted in his lap.
Fakir felt frozen in place, unable to move-honestly believing he couldn't-until his golden eyed Prince was kneeling behind him and caressing his shoulders. Mytho caught on fast. He ran his fingertips through Fakir's spiky hair, and whispered softly into his ear, “You made me feel good, Fakir, thank you.” Fakir could feel his face heating again-as if sex was the kind of thing you were supposed to say thank you for!
“Can I make you feel good Fakir, can I...?” Mytho trailed off, opting not finish his sentence, instead reaching around Fakir's torso-between him and Duck-and brushing lightly against Fakir's twitching cock.
Fakir's mouth flew open in a silent gasp and he bucked-just a little-grinding against that place between Duck's legs in the process.
“Mhmp!” Duck barely muffled the embarrassing noise that bubbled up her delicate throat. She honestly just didn't-ah!-know what to do with herself. This kind of situation was-of course-new to Duck. When Fakir rubbed his-his prick there-it felt strange, like tingly and ticklish and-
“...ah!” This was so embarrassing. She kept her head against Fakir's shoulder-she'd never be able to look anyone in the eyes again!
Fakir could feel Mytho's cock hardening again against his back-and strangely enough found himself unsurprised-he supposed Mytho had to make up for lost time or something-
Duck whimpered against him, moving her hips noticeably forward, and Fakir found himself grinding back; warm cock brushing against the softness between her legs. Mytho released Fakir's prick, suddenly remembering something Fakir had done to him, earlier-and reached thin fingers around Fakir's torso to firmly grasp his nipples.
The feeling had Fakir swallowing heavily, and grinding harder, less and less able to think clearly with his arousal. He grasped Duck's hips-pulling her almost a little too roughly-and pulled her smaller form flush against his bigger one; chest to chest, with his prick perfectly aligned beneath her.
Duck was making too much noise-she knew it-she was always so loud all the time. Fakir probably wanted her to just shut-up, but then he wasn't telling her that, and he usually did tell her when he wanted her to be quiet so maybe he didn't really mind the noise...?
Duck arched a bit, the feel of Fakir's prick between her legs was, was...intense. She could feel the entire length of it beneath her, and she found herself slowly grinding against it, her body heating and tensing and begging for more friction. She felt like she was on fire, just her chest brushing against his-it sent her mind reeling.
Then something changed a bit as Fakir jerked his hips forward; his prick slid between the slit in Duck's cunt. There was a simultaneous gasp at the new sensation, and this time when Fakir drew back, his cock was slick and slippery. He swallowed roughly, and thrust forward a few more times, reveling in the new feel the wetness created.
The pleasure was short lived for worry, however, as Fakir's dick slipped a little differently and he found it prodding Duck's entrance, centimeters away from being encased in slick heat.
Duck knew what was about to happen and braced herself-this was something she really wanted-and she was so hot and she really, really needed something. She pushed forward a bit, angling her bottom down, but strong hands at her hips stopped her.
Fakir leaned forward, voice shaky and strained, “I-I-we, uh, we need to, umm-” Fakir sounded breathless, so he swallowed and took a deep breath through his nose. He wrapped his hands around timid shoulders and pushed Duck gently back. He swallowed again, and then determinedly looked into her eyes-the first time since the whole thing had started.
Softly he said, “Hey idiot, we-” He glanced away briefly before making eye contact again, “We have to use protection. Or do you wanna end up pregnant?”
Duck squeaked at the implication. Duck, pregnant with Fakir's child? Pregnant?! Oh man, oh man! Why the heck hadn't she though of that? Of course she could get pregnant! Fakir must think she's such an idiot-just like those stupid girls who get all gaga over a boy, and next thing you know they're in the abortion clinic-abortion?! Duck couldn't get an abortion? What if-
“This is how girls become pregnant, Fakir? This is how life is created?” Mytho's voice was soft as usual, interested and curious.
Fakir covered his face with his hands. He really was a pervert. He was having sex with a girl who forgot that sex could lead to pregnancy-and a boy, a boy-(even if it was kind of different because it was Mytho) who didn't even know that that's how babies are created in the first place!
“Yes Mytho.” Fakir managed out, regretting having said the word pregnant at all.
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continuez
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