Amour de Trois: Chapter 3/3 part c (COMPLETE)
Title: Amour de Trois
Genre: Comedy/Romance
Pairings/Characters: 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
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continu
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“I trust you, Fakir.” She offered with a hesitant smile and sky blue eyes. Fakir blushed and swallowed, feeling even more responsible and corrupt. Duck and Mytho, they were too trusting and innocent and, and-and, he felt like he was taking advantage or something.
Fakir touched nervously at warm thighs. “Could you-uh, spread your legs a bit?” He felt like a pervert for saying it, he really did. He stroked her thighs, worried his lip, and let his fingers wander back inside of wet heat, but at the end of the day-he was stalling. He removed his fingers and she gasped, and then pulled on her legs a bit, so that she was aligned properly, so that he could-
He swallowed nervously and attempted to still his shaking hands. He wasn't trembling, he was not trembling. He took hold of his cock-god, he really wanted this-and let it slip between her legs, prodding lightly, and shit, he was still afraid. Afraid of hurting her. What if it was too much? He pressed forward with his hips and it slipped, didn't press in, but went up, missing the target completely. Fakir could hear his own heart beating in his ears.
Mytho appeared beside him, mimicking earlier parts of the night, and wrapping his smaller hand around Fakir's, around his cock. He used his other hand and opened Duck up for him-so apparently at some point he'd managed to put two and two together.
Fakir pressed forward and he could feel himself breaching her, entering agonizingly slowly. It was so hot, and tight, too tight. Was Duck hurting? Mytho seemed to be wondering the same thing.
“Do you feel pain, Duck?” Duck swallowed and cracked open an eye. “Just a little.” She whispered. Fakir couldn't tell if she was lying. He pressed on anyway, still slow, because really, it was a little late in the game to quit now.
Every inch felt like hours-like lifetimes-when really mere seconds ticked by. Fakir could hear the birds outside, he'd forgotten it was only morning. He'd forgotten about everything really, everything except for himself and Mytho and Ahiru.
Fakir pressed forward a bit more-Mytho had long ago relinquished his hold around Fakir's prick-and he was fully settled inside. Fakir was definitely trembling now, heat coiling in his stomach without even moving, he'd been hard so long, and Duck was really just perfect. Hot and tight and wet, and pretty, Duck was pretty too.
He looked down at her face. It was contorted into pain. He grimaced. How much did it hurt? How much was it going to hurt him? He leaned forward a bit and she whimpered. Fakir swallowed thickly. He didn't want to hurt her, and it felt so good for him-was she only feeling pain? He really wanted to move, dammit, he needed to move...
He flicked at her nipples, grasped them between fingers and toyed with them. She gasped. He remembered something suddenly, feeling like an idiot, and reached down where they were connected, softly pressing against her clit. Her hips moved semi-automatically, tightening around Fakir and-
“Ah...” Pleasure went straight up his spine. He rolled the nub it between his fingers as he had her nipples, and then attempted to start a pace. Duck was relaxing around him, Fakir could feel it, and her face wasn't so scrunched up anymore.
He attempted to move forward the barest of an inch, but was almost immediately stopped by high-pitched wailing.
“Ow, ow, ow! Fakir! I-it hurts!” Fakir stilled himself, teeth clenched.
A hand brushed against him from behind. He tensed, but then relaxed, remembering Mytho's presence. If it hurt Duck this much then-he really had to relax. He took a deep breath.
“Fakir, it's the same?” Mytho asked, cock brushing against Fakir's backside.
Fakir nodded mutely, but then, remembering, hurriedly added:
“But you have to use the um-the...”
“Lubricant, Fakir?” Fakir nodded again, to aroused to blush anymore. He was fairly sure all the blood was in his cock anyway-inside Duck-ohfuck he wanted to move.
Something wet brushed against him and he shuddered. Mytho's fingers were at his ass, spreading lubricant around-his hips jerked a bit and Duck whimpered.
“S-sorry.” He wondered if Duck was overreacting as usual. He wanted to tell her to just relax, relax your muscles and breath slowly, but his mouth was dry and he couldn't quite find the will to speak.
Something slick-something bigger-was prodding at his entrance a little sooner then he'd liked. He desperately tried not to tense and clench his muscles. Mytho pushed forward a bit.
Fuck, he didn't think Duck was exaggerating.
Duck bit her lip, watching as Fakir's eyebrows furrowed and his teeth clenched in pain. She figured that Mytho was probably-you know-doing the same thing Fakir was doing to her. But then, Fakir was a boy and she wondered if it felt different because she really couldn't imagine putting anything in there, especially not something as big as, as big as-well, what was inside of her.
She wrapped her hands around Fakir's wrists, she could feel how tense his body was against her. Poor Fakir, if this was hurting her, then maybe-maybe this kind of sex wasn't such a good idea for Fakir or Mytho-or maybe even herself. There were other kinds of sex right? She knew there were. Maybe they should just stop and try another time.
“Mmhaaa...” Duck gasped. That time hadn't hurt it had even felt-
Fakir moved forward again-pressed again-down there, and it felt like, like-
“F-f-f...kir...” She swallowed. It was so strange. Fakir's cock felt so full inside her: thick and warm and just there.
Just when Duck was trying to think of a way to tell Fakir to move without sounding so embarrassing, he cried out, and it definitely was pain.
Mytho's soft voice spoke from behind him, but stuttering and less level than usual.
“I-I'm, Fakir? I...” His voice sounded breathless.
Fakir swallowed. “Don't move.”
The statement hung in the air long after it was said, and Duck found herself genuinely worried. It would feel good for Fakir too, right? Wouldn't it? He wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't supposed to feel good would he? Cause that's what sex is about, feeling good-well not all it was about-it was about love too, and sure she loved-loved?! Who did she love? Since when? But poor Fakir...and he was a knight so what if...?
What if he was just trying to be self-self, self-sacrificial or something? He wouldn't do that! Would he? Maybe. Maybe they should stop. Maybe he was just to embarrassed to say anything or something and so she should! Yeah, Duck would be brave this time. She would speak up!
“Fakir, are you okay?” She asked as quietly as possible. He opened his eyes, but his face was still scrunched up.
“Can I move?” He asked tersely.
What was that supposed to mean? Duck would be the one asking questions here, thank you very much.
“Oh! You mean, umm-it doesn't hurt anymore-I just, are you okay? I mean it does a little but umm.-Yes.” She quieted.
Fakir let out a whoosh of air. He took another deep breath. Mytho was all the way inside him, and, Mytho really hadn't looked so big but somehow he just felt huge. Fakir was beginning to wonder if they were doing something wrong. Was it really supposed to hurt this much? He wondered if Mytho was experiencing the same difficulties as him: the need to move, for more friction-and the heat.
He pushed his hips forward in some type of jerky gyration or thrust-if you could even call it that-and two simultaneous gasps filled the room. His breath caught in his throat as he moved again. And again. He was attempting some sort of rhythm, he really was. He told himself it was like dancing. It was, in a way.
He opened his eyes to stare at Duck-it was hard to keep them open when everything felt so good-and she looked so perfect. The pain was gone, just pretty eyelashes sheathing blue and a mouth that kept opening in the perfect sort of 'o' shape. The noises she was making were just...
He could feel a heat coiling in his belly, and he wondered if Duck felt the same. A voice broke his rhythm mid-thrust.
“F-fakir, please-I-I-can I move now, Fakir? Please.” Mytho's voice was strained and breathless. Fakir had forgotten to tell him otherwise, he'd just thought-
Fakir nodded.
Mytho drew back and the pushed forward in one fluid moment. In seconds he was thrusting, jerking his hips-too fast, too fast-and gasping.
Fakir tried to ignore the pain-it was ebbing away some-and focus on Duck. Her hair, her face, those noises. He attempted to speed up, to follow Mytho's rhythm so that they could all move together or something but-
“Mytho...” Fakir found himself whispering. His face might have been red if it hadn't felt so good. Mytho was hitting that place again. That spot inside that just made all the pain seem irrelevant.
They weren't moving as one, but rather a chain reaction. Every movement Mytho made pushed Fakir deeper inside Duck-who in turn tightened and had Fakir pressing back. They were all moving at different paces, trying to build up to that one point where everything was too good.
Fakir could feel the heat in his stomach, tightening and spreading-his fingertips, everywhere-everything felt good. Mytho pressed forward, cock buried deep in Fakir, and jerked his hips rapidly, so fast that it was hurting Fakir but this was Mytho and he really wasn't too worried about that. He grasped Fakir's hips with thin fingers and then he pushed forward and his whole body tensed.
“Ahhh...!” Mytho let out a strangled moan, body shaking and tingly.
Fakir was a few moments later, hunched over Duck, with his hands tightening around her thighs-his hips moving quickly and without his own consent. He grunted, and choked on moan, desperately trying to be less dramatic than Mytho had. Wanting Duck to think that he was, that he was something. His hips continued to move forward for a few seconds afterwards, aftershocks tumbling through his trembling body.
He could feel Mytho pull out from behind him, and as he looked down at Duck somehow everything became embarrassing again. Had Duck...?
She whimpered and her hips moved against him, but he could feel himself going soft inside her, blood returning to his cheeks-all of it, to his cheeks.
“Ahiru-ah, I'm-dammit...” What was he supposed to say? Sorry I forgot about you back there, my dick is limp now. My bad.
He swallowed thickly. He pulled out of her slowly. He'd already gone soft. He let her hips fall back down to the mattress. He looked frantically behind him for some sort of consolation or something but then-of course-Mytho was already asleep. The selfish Prince, after all that.
He looked back down at her nervously. Azure peaked out beneath eyelashes and Duck made a frustrated groan.
He leaned forward, arm on either side of her.
“I-I'm sorry I didn't, I just mean, I really-” Is this how Duck felt all the time? Unable to speak or properly form a single sentence?
“Fakiiiir...” She whined, looking displeased. She grabbed his hand out from under him and he almost fell forward on top of her.
“Stop rambling, just c'mon, it's okay-” His face rivaled that of a tomato. “Just, please...” She took his hand beneath hers and pressed his fingers against her clitoris, rubbing it up and down swiftly. A few moments in and she'd let go, gasping with her head thrown back.
“Ah, ah, ahhh-” Her noises were breathless and gasps punctuated as she moved her hips beneath his hand, urging him to move fast-please faster. He dipped his finger lower, spreading the wetness from there. He pressed harder, once he realized it wasn't hurting her, and then, a few circular motions and-
“F-f-Fakiiir....” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, holding it in place and grinding against it, body tense as a bow. Her hips jerked a few more times and then her whole body went taut, before spasming wildly.
Gradually her hips slowed and her body stopped making those jerky motions. She panted with red cheeks and closed eyes, until gradually her breathing slowed until-was that snoring?
Fakir felt thoroughly offended. Had they both simply fallen asleep? In a matter of mere seconds?
He sighed and removed the condom, chuckling inwardly; Mytho had fallen asleep with it on. He glanced at the clock and then out the window-to the school. He was fairly sure they weren't going to make it on time.
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la fin.
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Genre: Comedy/Romance
Pairings/Characters: 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
:::
continu
:::
“I trust you, Fakir.” She offered with a hesitant smile and sky blue eyes. Fakir blushed and swallowed, feeling even more responsible and corrupt. Duck and Mytho, they were too trusting and innocent and, and-and, he felt like he was taking advantage or something.
Fakir touched nervously at warm thighs. “Could you-uh, spread your legs a bit?” He felt like a pervert for saying it, he really did. He stroked her thighs, worried his lip, and let his fingers wander back inside of wet heat, but at the end of the day-he was stalling. He removed his fingers and she gasped, and then pulled on her legs a bit, so that she was aligned properly, so that he could-
He swallowed nervously and attempted to still his shaking hands. He wasn't trembling, he was not trembling. He took hold of his cock-god, he really wanted this-and let it slip between her legs, prodding lightly, and shit, he was still afraid. Afraid of hurting her. What if it was too much? He pressed forward with his hips and it slipped, didn't press in, but went up, missing the target completely. Fakir could hear his own heart beating in his ears.
Mytho appeared beside him, mimicking earlier parts of the night, and wrapping his smaller hand around Fakir's, around his cock. He used his other hand and opened Duck up for him-so apparently at some point he'd managed to put two and two together.
Fakir pressed forward and he could feel himself breaching her, entering agonizingly slowly. It was so hot, and tight, too tight. Was Duck hurting? Mytho seemed to be wondering the same thing.
“Do you feel pain, Duck?” Duck swallowed and cracked open an eye. “Just a little.” She whispered. Fakir couldn't tell if she was lying. He pressed on anyway, still slow, because really, it was a little late in the game to quit now.
Every inch felt like hours-like lifetimes-when really mere seconds ticked by. Fakir could hear the birds outside, he'd forgotten it was only morning. He'd forgotten about everything really, everything except for himself and Mytho and Ahiru.
Fakir pressed forward a bit more-Mytho had long ago relinquished his hold around Fakir's prick-and he was fully settled inside. Fakir was definitely trembling now, heat coiling in his stomach without even moving, he'd been hard so long, and Duck was really just perfect. Hot and tight and wet, and pretty, Duck was pretty too.
He looked down at her face. It was contorted into pain. He grimaced. How much did it hurt? How much was it going to hurt him? He leaned forward a bit and she whimpered. Fakir swallowed thickly. He didn't want to hurt her, and it felt so good for him-was she only feeling pain? He really wanted to move, dammit, he needed to move...
He flicked at her nipples, grasped them between fingers and toyed with them. She gasped. He remembered something suddenly, feeling like an idiot, and reached down where they were connected, softly pressing against her clit. Her hips moved semi-automatically, tightening around Fakir and-
“Ah...” Pleasure went straight up his spine. He rolled the nub it between his fingers as he had her nipples, and then attempted to start a pace. Duck was relaxing around him, Fakir could feel it, and her face wasn't so scrunched up anymore.
He attempted to move forward the barest of an inch, but was almost immediately stopped by high-pitched wailing.
“Ow, ow, ow! Fakir! I-it hurts!” Fakir stilled himself, teeth clenched.
A hand brushed against him from behind. He tensed, but then relaxed, remembering Mytho's presence. If it hurt Duck this much then-he really had to relax. He took a deep breath.
“Fakir, it's the same?” Mytho asked, cock brushing against Fakir's backside.
Fakir nodded mutely, but then, remembering, hurriedly added:
“But you have to use the um-the...”
“Lubricant, Fakir?” Fakir nodded again, to aroused to blush anymore. He was fairly sure all the blood was in his cock anyway-inside Duck-ohfuck he wanted to move.
Something wet brushed against him and he shuddered. Mytho's fingers were at his ass, spreading lubricant around-his hips jerked a bit and Duck whimpered.
“S-sorry.” He wondered if Duck was overreacting as usual. He wanted to tell her to just relax, relax your muscles and breath slowly, but his mouth was dry and he couldn't quite find the will to speak.
Something slick-something bigger-was prodding at his entrance a little sooner then he'd liked. He desperately tried not to tense and clench his muscles. Mytho pushed forward a bit.
Fuck, he didn't think Duck was exaggerating.
Duck bit her lip, watching as Fakir's eyebrows furrowed and his teeth clenched in pain. She figured that Mytho was probably-you know-doing the same thing Fakir was doing to her. But then, Fakir was a boy and she wondered if it felt different because she really couldn't imagine putting anything in there, especially not something as big as, as big as-well, what was inside of her.
She wrapped her hands around Fakir's wrists, she could feel how tense his body was against her. Poor Fakir, if this was hurting her, then maybe-maybe this kind of sex wasn't such a good idea for Fakir or Mytho-or maybe even herself. There were other kinds of sex right? She knew there were. Maybe they should just stop and try another time.
“Mmhaaa...” Duck gasped. That time hadn't hurt it had even felt-
Fakir moved forward again-pressed again-down there, and it felt like, like-
“F-f-f...kir...” She swallowed. It was so strange. Fakir's cock felt so full inside her: thick and warm and just there.
Just when Duck was trying to think of a way to tell Fakir to move without sounding so embarrassing, he cried out, and it definitely was pain.
Mytho's soft voice spoke from behind him, but stuttering and less level than usual.
“I-I'm, Fakir? I...” His voice sounded breathless.
Fakir swallowed. “Don't move.”
The statement hung in the air long after it was said, and Duck found herself genuinely worried. It would feel good for Fakir too, right? Wouldn't it? He wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't supposed to feel good would he? Cause that's what sex is about, feeling good-well not all it was about-it was about love too, and sure she loved-loved?! Who did she love? Since when? But poor Fakir...and he was a knight so what if...?
What if he was just trying to be self-self, self-sacrificial or something? He wouldn't do that! Would he? Maybe. Maybe they should stop. Maybe he was just to embarrassed to say anything or something and so she should! Yeah, Duck would be brave this time. She would speak up!
“Fakir, are you okay?” She asked as quietly as possible. He opened his eyes, but his face was still scrunched up.
“Can I move?” He asked tersely.
What was that supposed to mean? Duck would be the one asking questions here, thank you very much.
“Oh! You mean, umm-it doesn't hurt anymore-I just, are you okay? I mean it does a little but umm.-Yes.” She quieted.
Fakir let out a whoosh of air. He took another deep breath. Mytho was all the way inside him, and, Mytho really hadn't looked so big but somehow he just felt huge. Fakir was beginning to wonder if they were doing something wrong. Was it really supposed to hurt this much? He wondered if Mytho was experiencing the same difficulties as him: the need to move, for more friction-and the heat.
He pushed his hips forward in some type of jerky gyration or thrust-if you could even call it that-and two simultaneous gasps filled the room. His breath caught in his throat as he moved again. And again. He was attempting some sort of rhythm, he really was. He told himself it was like dancing. It was, in a way.
He opened his eyes to stare at Duck-it was hard to keep them open when everything felt so good-and she looked so perfect. The pain was gone, just pretty eyelashes sheathing blue and a mouth that kept opening in the perfect sort of 'o' shape. The noises she was making were just...
He could feel a heat coiling in his belly, and he wondered if Duck felt the same. A voice broke his rhythm mid-thrust.
“F-fakir, please-I-I-can I move now, Fakir? Please.” Mytho's voice was strained and breathless. Fakir had forgotten to tell him otherwise, he'd just thought-
Fakir nodded.
Mytho drew back and the pushed forward in one fluid moment. In seconds he was thrusting, jerking his hips-too fast, too fast-and gasping.
Fakir tried to ignore the pain-it was ebbing away some-and focus on Duck. Her hair, her face, those noises. He attempted to speed up, to follow Mytho's rhythm so that they could all move together or something but-
“Mytho...” Fakir found himself whispering. His face might have been red if it hadn't felt so good. Mytho was hitting that place again. That spot inside that just made all the pain seem irrelevant.
They weren't moving as one, but rather a chain reaction. Every movement Mytho made pushed Fakir deeper inside Duck-who in turn tightened and had Fakir pressing back. They were all moving at different paces, trying to build up to that one point where everything was too good.
Fakir could feel the heat in his stomach, tightening and spreading-his fingertips, everywhere-everything felt good. Mytho pressed forward, cock buried deep in Fakir, and jerked his hips rapidly, so fast that it was hurting Fakir but this was Mytho and he really wasn't too worried about that. He grasped Fakir's hips with thin fingers and then he pushed forward and his whole body tensed.
“Ahhh...!” Mytho let out a strangled moan, body shaking and tingly.
Fakir was a few moments later, hunched over Duck, with his hands tightening around her thighs-his hips moving quickly and without his own consent. He grunted, and choked on moan, desperately trying to be less dramatic than Mytho had. Wanting Duck to think that he was, that he was something. His hips continued to move forward for a few seconds afterwards, aftershocks tumbling through his trembling body.
He could feel Mytho pull out from behind him, and as he looked down at Duck somehow everything became embarrassing again. Had Duck...?
She whimpered and her hips moved against him, but he could feel himself going soft inside her, blood returning to his cheeks-all of it, to his cheeks.
“Ahiru-ah, I'm-dammit...” What was he supposed to say? Sorry I forgot about you back there, my dick is limp now. My bad.
He swallowed thickly. He pulled out of her slowly. He'd already gone soft. He let her hips fall back down to the mattress. He looked frantically behind him for some sort of consolation or something but then-of course-Mytho was already asleep. The selfish Prince, after all that.
He looked back down at her nervously. Azure peaked out beneath eyelashes and Duck made a frustrated groan.
He leaned forward, arm on either side of her.
“I-I'm sorry I didn't, I just mean, I really-” Is this how Duck felt all the time? Unable to speak or properly form a single sentence?
“Fakiiiir...” She whined, looking displeased. She grabbed his hand out from under him and he almost fell forward on top of her.
“Stop rambling, just c'mon, it's okay-” His face rivaled that of a tomato. “Just, please...” She took his hand beneath hers and pressed his fingers against her clitoris, rubbing it up and down swiftly. A few moments in and she'd let go, gasping with her head thrown back.
“Ah, ah, ahhh-” Her noises were breathless and gasps punctuated as she moved her hips beneath his hand, urging him to move fast-please faster. He dipped his finger lower, spreading the wetness from there. He pressed harder, once he realized it wasn't hurting her, and then, a few circular motions and-
“F-f-Fakiiir....” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist, holding it in place and grinding against it, body tense as a bow. Her hips jerked a few more times and then her whole body went taut, before spasming wildly.
Gradually her hips slowed and her body stopped making those jerky motions. She panted with red cheeks and closed eyes, until gradually her breathing slowed until-was that snoring?
Fakir felt thoroughly offended. Had they both simply fallen asleep? In a matter of mere seconds?
He sighed and removed the condom, chuckling inwardly; Mytho had fallen asleep with it on. He glanced at the clock and then out the window-to the school. He was fairly sure they weren't going to make it on time.
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la fin.
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