Chapter Text
"Ah, Aves, m-more… hurry," Derlord pleaded miserably, rocking back on three of Avery's fingers stretching at the rim of his ass slowly.
The King was just as miserable, if not more. Derlord knew that was the case from the way his face had warmed two shades lighter, the scowl he sent Derlord's way was anything but light.
And well, Derlord would have been more than happy to let The King become a more active participant, but Avery's orders meant that he could do nothing but watch Derlord rock back into the fingers teasing him maddeningly from behind.
The King lay trapped between the mattress and Derlord's twitching body. The knight's thighs braced on either side of his waist, while his own wrists remained pinned above his head, leaving him with little freedom beyond clenching his fists so tightly that they hurt.
Avery snorted a laugh through his nose. "I don't know, Der… you haven't really done anything to deserve more just yet…" he said, all while gently prodding at his rim with a fourth finger, not quite breaching but enough to make Derlord hiss. "What do you think, Hastur? Does he deserve more?"
The King's glare sharpened. "Regardless of whether he is deserving…" He manifested two small tendrils from his exposed waist, leading them towards Derlord's nipples to caress them— and Derlord choked on a whine. "He should take it all gratefully."
Avery's fingers came to a halt, buried at their deepest point to his knuckles. "Hey… It's not your turn yet." Derlord could hear a pout in the slime's voice, and he, himself, would have been more upset at the abrupt lack of stimulation if The King's tentacles on his chest hadn't felt so concerningly pleasurable.
Maybe it was the contrast of the coolness within them against his molten skin, or how gentle the King was with his touches despite being supposedly restrained that made his breath stutter.
Not that his grip around The King's arms was all that effective, but the idea that the eldritch slime beneath him would allow him to do such a thing in the first place was a power trip in itself.
"Do not get caught up on technicalities," The King said, digging into the centres of each respective nub.
Derlord's hips jerked before he could stop them. "Don't…haa.. don't stop…" On cue, The King only tugged harder, his eyes greedily drinking in the knight's reaction.
Avery sighed but otherwise added another finger alongside the three and Derlord's grip around The King's wrists spasmed.
"Bossy…" Avery said, pumping his fingers in and out almost idly, as if in resignation. "You're lucky that you're so cute, Der,"
The dual sensation on both his chest and ass made him feel breathless. Apparently not breathless enough; when The King tugged harder in time with a particularly rough prod on his prostate he couldn't fight the low moan that left him— "Nmngh!- fuckingmnph—"
"Demanding and vocal," The King interrupted, sneaking an extra tendril into Derlord's mouth, gently tugging his tongue forward, the action making it loll out obscenely.
Strange. Slimy and mostly tasteless, but not unpleasant—
"Which feels better?" Avery said, curling his fingers to brush against his prostate with each drag. If each twist hadn't pinpointed the spot so efficiently, Derlord would have chided him for being so talkative. "My fingers in your ass? Or The King playing with your chest?"
Derlord was a strong man. His head was a fortress, hardened under months of surviving migraine after migraine. By now, he had a reputation for possessing a sharp-tongue and an even sharper mind.
"Mnnngh-ahh… boffth?" Came his very well-articulated response, saliva dripping down the corners of his mouth as The King's tendril stroked the tip of his tongue almost mockingly.
Apparently it was the wrong answer, since Avery retracted his fingers almost immediately. Derlord pinned The King with a glare as if it were his fault.
Hastur smirked back at him, rolling Derlord's nipples in circular motions. "It appears that your technique is far too trivial for the knight to even notice, let alone prefer."
"Rude. You don't really think that though, right Der?"
Derlord thought about reassuring Avery, to let him know that he would definitely prefer it if Avery's fingers remained buried in his ass— until he felt something blunt prod at his entrance.
And, well, apparently his answer had been correct after all. Fucking finally.
Instinctively, he pushed his chest lower until he was chest-to-chest with The King as best he could despite how slippery they were; the new position inadvertently raised the angle of his hips as if prostrating himself before a god. Funny actually, considering how the god was actually beneath him—
"No answer, huh…" Avery's hands settled at his hips. "You're so mean," he said with a sigh, before sliding home in one, merciless thrust.
"MNNGhgff?!—"
For a very brief moment, Derlord feared that Avery would keep going all the way into his throat, the stretch was incessant, forcing his back to arch further— every muscle in his back locked at once.
Whatever small mercy it was, Avery had stayed completely still after bottoming out, giving him a chance to adapt to the change in size. But with the way The King was still playing with his chest, Derlord couldn't stop his hips from jolting, forcing the length in his ass to rub against his sweet spot, his own hips swaying of his own traitorous accord.
It might have been better if Avery just set a brutal pace from the get go— but no, like this, he could feel every ridge pressing against his abdomen with even the slightest twitch.
Notch… they had barely even started and he was already losing his composure. But then again, neither Avery nor The King seemed to be doing any better— despite them trying to convince him otherwise.
"How about now?" Avery said a bit too eagerly, while petting the knight's lower back. "My dick? Or The King on your chest?"
Despite their current predicament, Derlord thought about it seriously for a moment, trying to find the best answer that would save his pride and get him the result he wanted.
He wasn't about to give in so easily, but Avery loved positive reinforcement (he wasn't too sure about The King on that aspect, but there was still time to find out).
Apparently, he hesitated for far too long; The smug look The King sent his way only made his blush worsen.
"Nof enough dafa…" he murmured around the tentacle in his mouth.
The King withdrew it immediately, saliva stretching between them lewdly before snapping against the slime's chest below him.
"Again. Coherent words."
"Agreed! I can barely here you from back here," Avery added unhelpfully.
Derlord's brows furrowed as if concentration alone might save his dignity. "I… I refuse to make a judgment with insufficient evidence. Avery… I know that you can do better."
Maybe if his eyes weren't already glassy with frustration, nor was there a dick buried deep within his ass—his attempt at control over the situation might have been taken a bit more seriously.
Somehow, his extremely-threatening glare seemed to have the complete opposite effect, if anything, it only encouraged them further. "Awww, I wish I could see the look on his face right now…" Avery cooed at him all while pulling his hips away until only the tip remained.
When Derlord craned his neck back at the slow drag against his insides—"Indeed, his expression is quite entertaining." The King took the opportunity to pull his wrists away from the knight's trembling hands, opting to hold them at the base of his neck.
Derlord glared down at him over his nose, his hands flying to steady himself against The King, who was holding him up by his neck alone.
At the sight of his glare, The King withdrew somewhat, his grip loosening until Derlord pulled his hands impossibly closer with an even more fiercely flustered look. A silent plead to keep them there.
The King would never dream of denying him something that they both wanted; his hands re-clasped around his neck as if in prayer. Not quite harsh enough to leave behind any marks, but enough to remind Derlord who his pleasure belonged to. An endless stream of quiet, choked off moans left him at the thought of it.
"Is he grumpy?" Avery asked, slamming right back in all the way, savouring the way Derlord's ass fluttered around him.
"Very."
Avery sighed with longing. "Damn… he-mph-always looks so cute when… haa-he's grumpy…" he said in between thrusts.
Even with pleasure sparking through his body, Derlord at least had the sense to tell them to stop their nonsensical banter. "Shut-Mngh!—"
Or, apparently not.
Speaking had already been difficult, nevermind with the added pressure of The King's hands around his neck—Derlord could only moan.
"From within the confines of his mind, I have observed that he reacts the most positively when treated roughly." Aiming to prove his point, his thumbs settled just below Derlord's Adam's Apple, and then pressed until the knight's eyes rolled back, glazing over as he struggled to remember what planet he was on.
"Shit— what are you-he's so tight—" Avery hissed, pulling Derlord's hips back without hesitation. The knight's hands scrambled for purchase along The King's arms as he grit his teeth. Once his hands settled, it offered little stability; Avery rocked into him from behind tirelessly, the mattress groaned beneath them under the intense pace.
"Here's another-haa— fun fact of my own," Avery started, multitasking with one of his hands to trail circles over the flesh of Derlord's ass. "You don't actually need to do anything for him to enjoy it."
Avery slowed down to a deep grind that almost broke him.
With way Avery rolled his hips against him teasingly, ensuring that every inch, every thrust was felt, Derlord was glad for The King's hands around his neck. He doubted that without them there, he wouldn't have been able to keep his head up at all. And wasn't that a thought.
"Aves—Ah, Avery—"
"Shhhh, it's okay." Avery was still petting his ass gently causing Derlord to wriggle against his hand. "I'll give you what you need, soon."
"I am already aware that he can climax from harsh external stimulus alone… What about this is uncharted territory?—"
"Nuh, uh— recently, he's been super sensitive," he said. "Even when I'm not even touching him he cums really quickly. It's super cool."
At Avery's phrasing, Derlord went to argue that 'cool' was hardly the appropriate term to describe—
Until Avery stilled immediately, buried at the deepest part within him.
The hand on his ass cupped the muscle there lovingly, massaging the surface with just enough pressure to make heat pool in Derlord's stomach.
He knew what was about to come next.
Without trying to seem too desperate, Derlord pushed his hips back to meet Avery's touches.
He heard a soft laugh behind him. Avery raked his fingers down the flesh of his left cheek as if rewarding him for good behaviour.
And when Avery pulled his hand away, raising it into the air, Derlord's abdomen clenched instinctively. He tried to peek behind him; The King wouldn't let him, so he braced himself for—
…Nothing?
His throat tightened. Usually this was the part where pain burned through his backside— his favourite part (not that he would ever admit that aloud).
And yet… still nothing.
Avery's hand hovered teasingly above him; the mere act of waiting made him feel lightheaded. His helmet fogged up on the inside, warm and suffocating.
What on Notch's flat earth is he doing? If The King's wasn't keeping his head fixed in the forward direction, he would have checked to see what the hell was wrong with the slime.
The suspense alone was making his head spin.
Maybe because of the fact that he was at the mercy of Avery's whims, his mind wandered to the thought of Avery's hand connecting with his ass, and the blinding pleasure that usually came with it—
He bore down on the dick spearing him open, the feeling of it pressing right against his prostate, sending him right over the edge.
"What—t? Th- f-fuck!—"
Derlord let out a choked sob as he came all over his stomach, his back arching so hard it was a miracle that it hadn't snapped in half.
Delirium dragged on further as a warm gush erupted into his stomach; Avery's grip on his hips turned bruising as he emptied his load straight into him with a shameless moan.
The mark on both of their abdomens flared brightly, sputtering in time with their orgasms before Derlord sagged forward into The King's hold, his arms going limp against the slimy chest beneath him.
For a few moments, nothing but the sound of heavy breathing rang out throughout the bedroom.
A breathless chuckle broke the silence. Derlord couldn't tell who it was from. His head felt so far away.
"Fascinating… You have trained him well."
"I think it's the anticipation?" There was another gentle pat on his ass from Avery, causing him to twitch pathetically. "Although you probably already knew that."
"I am also fully aware that such an achievement would not have been possible without my divine intervention."
"Haa… divine intervention or not, technically, I was the one who made him cum."
A frown tugged down at the edges of Derlord's mouth. How were they already bickering?
As his breathing settled, so did the sting to his pride.
While being subjected to such an embarassing climax made him want to sink into the floorboards, Derlord had resigned himself to being a fair judge, regardless of the shame he felt from being so easily brought to ruin.
The King had definitely gotten creative, he admitted reluctantly, but overall— "This round… goes to Avery…" he mumbled into The King's chest, resting the side of his helmet against him.
The King flinched beneath him; Avery cheered from behind him, clenching his fists in victory. "You hear that, Hastur? Looks like—"
"Blasphemy." The King's voice echoed straight into Derlord's ear.
The knight broke out into a cold sweat as manifested tendrils— much bigger than the previous ones— secured around his waist, and each of his wrists respectively.
"Such a deduction is entirely without merit." The King started with a tone bordering on a growl. He manhandled Derlord so easily that it made his head spin— that, and the fact that The King had pulled Derlord off from Avery's dick unceremoniously. "H-hey! What are you—" Avery hissed, wincing from the sudden change in sensation.
"To weigh one outcome against another, the methods of their implementation must share common ground." More tentacles appeared, this time coiling around Derlord's thighs to keep them spread at an obscene angle.
Now on full display, the only thing Derlord could do to preserve his dignity, was to crane his head away from their piercing gazes— the success of that effort was debatable.
When Avery traced his sensitive rim with two fingers, he couldn't hold back a whimper. "You're making him waste all of my cum… Der, clench tighter." The feeling of Avery's release dripped down his thigh, and in that moment, Derlord thought about how wrecked he must have looked ; blush creeping down to his chest, body sweat-slicked and trembling. His dick was already re-hardening too.
How embarrassing.
"Is my statement correct, knight?"
Without wasting another second, The King lowered him down onto his own aching hard-on. Pulling him flush all the way to the base, the entry made easier by the previous round.
"MngHhh!—" Came his coherent reply.
Derlord was a strong man. More durable than most, he would argue.
If he were a stronger man, he might have corrected himself and actually given The King an intelligent answer.
Instead, his let out a content sigh at being filled once more; his stomach spasmed to accommodate the girth protruding against his abdomen.
It was the only answer The King needed.
But not the one he wanted.
"Speak."
He realised it then, how alike Avery and The King were in that aspect; Derlord glared at the ceiling, trying to force his eyes to focus with great difficulty.
He almost managed a few words of agreement, until Avery circled around to his side then sat down on the edge of the bed beside them— bringing a hand to pet the small bump on his stomach cruelly.
"I shall not stir until the rules of our engagement are absolute."
Derlord worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "F-fine… before I-nghaa… ha-conclude who wins a point… both, ah, of you must use the same… the same technique…"
The King smiled. The same smile that Avery always wore when he was excited, the one that always made Derlord feel at ease. On The King's face however, Derlord only felt dread.
"Shall I finally grace you with my true presence?"
"Go… go ahead."
"Hmm. A poor attempt. Ask again, and mind your tone."
"Please," he said, completely unamused.
"I have heard you beg the slime desperately on countless occasions. Is the same not warranted for our current predicament?"
Derlord could only stare at him with wide eyes, a vein threatening to pop on his forehead.
"Avery, he requires a sharper incentive. We must ensure that the playing grounds are equal."
Avery didn't seem to agree, but at the thought of teasing his partner again, he was more than happy to comply. "Aye, aye, captain."
Derlord choked on nothing when Avery's hand circled the tip of The King's dick through his taut skin. Traitorous slime!— He tried to fold in on himself to escape it, but the tentacles restraining his body wouldn't allow for such a mercy.
Fuck you, he thought in his head, hoping that The King would be able to read it. I'm not going to beg.
If The King had read his mind, he made no movement to acknowledge it. To make matters worse, Avery had even begun to hum, all while massaging his stomach with a casual smile.
He clenched his jaw until it ached, his breaths coming out sharp through his nose.
This torture was self-inflicted.
But it didn't have to be.
"…Please, I-I please move…" he said in one quiet breath.
"Please, what. Vocalise your wishes."
Derlord would have thrashed around in retaliation if the dick submerged in his guts didn't stimulate him constantly.
Adding further fuel to the fire, was the fact that Avery had moved his other hand to his chest, tweaking one of his hardened nubs in time with the patterns he drew around the knight's stomach.
"Just, just ah-fuck me, please?—"
"Who do you want to fuck you?"
Derlord was not a strong man.
Not anymore.
"You!— Hastur! Please I can't— need, need you, so-ahhhfff?!—" Derlord hissed as he was raised off The King's length and hovered just on the tip.
He was held there for a moment, his hole clenching sporadically as if trying to draw him back in, but his pleading went unanswered.
His legs felt so numb.
His head felt even weaker.
His hands clenched around nothing, drawn so tightly behind the small of his back that he feared his blood flow had been cut off.
He was held there for another painfully long moment.
Curiosity got the best of him— as he craned his helmet down to stare below him, all he could think about was the feeling that would follow when The King eventually slammed him back down.
Would he be rough with him? Spear him open, until his insides melded to the shape of him? Or would he ease him down slowly, making him feel every tapered inch? —and ohhhh fuck.
Tears threatened to spill from his eyes once more as his stomach started to spasm again at mere hypotheticals.
Contraction after excruciating contraction tightened through his core, the response ingrained so deeply it bordered on reflex.
No… No way. He hissed internally, trying to relax his core muscles but the task was impossible. Back when they had shared a mind, The King had flooded him with visions of his own undoing often enough for his body to remember.
"Move, all-ah-already," he demanded shakily upon an exhale.
Unfortunately, he was ignored, much to Derlord's immediate regret.
At least the first time this happened, Avery's dick had actually been inside of him, so it was slightly less humiliating.
But now? There was absolutely no way he was going to cum from nothing again— just from the thought of getting fucked…
Was he really that perverted?
The tentacle wrapped around his waist tightened further, causing him to shiver uncontrollably. It made its way all the way to his neck before coiling, almost as if it had wrangled the whimper that escaped him.
No, in the first place, this is all The King and Avery's fault. They're the ones who made me like this—
When The King raised him all the way off his dick abruptly, Derlord forgot to breathe.
He was on a rollercoaster.
At the top of the highest loop.
No fucking way.
The tracks were about to drop.
No, no, no, no, no. "W-wait!—"
The King jolted him down by a singular inch, all tentacles moving in sync to pull him before his hole stopped just shy of The King's tapered tip— Derlord's head threw back as his stomach tightened, his thoughts scattering faster than he could catch them.
The mark on his lower abdomen flickered a sickly yellow as he came for the second time that evening, completely untouched. Only this time, nothing had touched his ass either.
"Fuhh-haa-hhhck—" he sobbed, gasping for air as his dick sputtered weakly onto the cruel eldritch slime beneath him.
Only then, did The King actually pull him all the way down onto his length; the drag of it igniting nerves he didn't even know he had.
When Derlord finally settled at the base, The King's own cum erupted— flooding his stomach. He couldn't even find the strength to writhe around to accommodate the sudden pressure. All he could do was sit and take it.
"I believe that this round has concluded in my favour."
Avery petted Derlord's distended stomach with awe, coaxing another choked gasp from the sniffling knight. "Ye-yeah… that was… that was something else…" Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to the tip of Derlord's nose. "You okay there, buddy?"
The whimper that left Derlord sounded completely broken. "I—" he hiccuped quietly, the sound drawn out of him from the shame of the most embarrassing orgasm to date. "I hate-both of you…"
An equally broken chuckle left Avery. He looked dangerously close to cooing at him again. "That's… yeah, sorry. That's fair. You erm… still want to keep going?"
Derlord's eyes stung fiercely; his face felt unbearably hot beneath the confines of his helmet. "I never-I never gave you permission to stop." He cringed at the sound of his own voice, sounding so uncharacteristically meek.
At least the stupidly fond smile Avery gave him soothed the sting of his humiliation.
The sight of The King's grating smirk, meanwhile, made him want to headbutt a wall.
"Still so stubborn." The King hauled him upwards once more. Derlord barely managed to keep his head upright. "No matter. You will know your place soon enough."
“Shit… you-ah, you feel so good, Der.”
Derlord could hear Avery, but his mouth refused to reply anything coherent. He managed to hiss something out through grit teeth—a low moan that the mattress beneath him swallowed up.
Avery pushed his head further into the pillow, as if the oxygen in his lungs was unlimited. If he could breathe, he would have moaned again and with that realisation, he felt as though he should have been more concerned than he was. Instead, all he could focus on was the burn of each drag against his prostate.
Notch, someone save him— his ass felt like it was on fire, but somehow, his traitorous body kept moving back in time with each of Avery’s thrusts as if begging for more.
“Greedy thing.” He heard The King sigh. Then there was another tentacle prodding at his lips, and way too eagerly, he let his jaw drop open to accommodate it.
He would have thought about his own willingness to accept that too, but when Avery rolled his hips at a mind-numbing angle, the climax that rippled through him stole away any chance of a thought.
With every nerve in his body now alight, fresh and raw from his orgasm, each thrust from Avery only felt amplified.
He tried to tell Avery to slow down. “Ahhhv-ahmMngh!—“ but his hips spoke for him, impaling himself further on Avery’s length pushing him even further over the edge.
It was already a difficult ordeal, forming words with his jaw stretched wide around The King. Miraculously, he managed a long, drawn out whine despite it, and The King rewarded him by burying himself further, almost kneading his throat.
“Taking it so, Mngh-so well,” Avery whined behind him. Then a burst of warmth rushed even further into him, pushing the cum already settled inside his stomach. Derlord wondered in a fit of delirium, if the tentacle in his mouth would be covered in cum once The King pulled it out.
There were gentle hands massaging into his tailbone again, trying to soothe his trembling— most likely Avery’s hands, which Derlord was grateful for. Although he was even more appreciative over the fact that Avery had stayed completely still.
On the contrary, The King finally withdrew the tentacle from his mouth and Derlord had to stop himself from chasing it. He had only just caught his breath; he wasn’t about to give it up so soon.
Then there was another tentacle, tugging at his crista forcing him to keep his neck craned back.
"Your silence is enjoyable but I much prefer the sound of your undoing."
Derlord really wanted to hide his 'sounds of undoing' with his hands, but they were currently the only thing keeping him up. That, and he was too busy gasping for air. He inhaled until he became lightheaded, as if drunk on oxygen.
And always so great with his timing, Avery decided that now was the perfect time to boast.
“I think that’s another point to me!” he huffed, gently easing his dick out of Derlord’s abused hole.
“The delusional musings of a madman.”
The King nudged the smug slime to the side with his shoulder; his fingers gathering the cum leaking out of Derlord’s hole before pushing it back in. “Keep your hips raised. It must take.”
Derlord shouldn't have followed the ridiculous command, but his hips did so anyway.
Then before any more cum could escape him, the empty space inside of him was replaced as The King bottomed out in one slide— Derlord’s body offered him a pathetic twitch and an even more pitiable moan.
Distantly, he could feel Avery petting his lower back again, inadvertently bringing his attention back to the manifested dick shaking his core from the deep, slow drags The King had decided to grace him with.
At least Derlord wasn’t the only one coming undone. The King sounded just as much out of breath as he did.
“Ha! I’m not delusional, you’re just a sore loser,” Avery said, a smile evident in his tone. “Even if I haven’t earned a point, it’s still three to two in my favour. What do you think, Der? Have I earned another point?”
Derlord could barely even think, let alone act as a judge for them. But if it would make Avery happy, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to agree. Tilting his head to the side, he swallowed hard. “Yea—“
Once more, his helmet was pushed into the pillows, cutting him off.
“Pffft—“ Avery chuckled. “And you call me a cheat.”
“Nonsense, I am merely correcting his posture,” The King said, his hand trailing lower to the back of his neck. He pressed down; Derlord’s mind went blank. “Furthermore… The night is still young.”
“I’ll let you off this time, just because I’ve basically already won.”
“Such a baseless conclusion. I have yet to make use of my entire arsenal.”
“Oh yeah?” Avery said. “Sounds like you’re just making excuses.”
Derlord scowled into the pillow as his dick throbbed, hardening against all odds. His body was being rewired into something impossibly depraved, that even after cumming his brains out, he still wanted more. So how the fuck were they still arguing over nothing—
The King huffed a laugh, then pulled out abruptly.
Derlord’s hole clenched around nothing. He almost weeped.
“You are unworthy, but witness the perfect control I possess over my new anatomy,” he announced grandly, accompanied by the sound of slime splitting.
When the sound of squelching stopped, Avery let out an appreciative whistle. “Fair play,” he said simply, but at that moment, Derlord couldn’t care to decipher what that meant. His dick was on fire, begging for salvation.
If they weren’t going to finish what they started, then they didn’t get to help.
His hands clenched the bed enough to dent the material while he humped the completely soaked mattress receiving minimal relief.
As if his face hadn’t already been so flushed, now he felt as though he was close to catching fire.
His thrusting became more intense anyways. Embarrassment was a small price to pay if it meant that he could have that sweet bliss once more—
A disappointed click of someone’s tongue rang out. Then a pair of cruel hands caught his hips, forcing them maddeningly still.
He attempted to snap his hips forward despite it. “Hf-no, no, no-no I’m, I’m so close!” Unsurprisingly, there was no leeway; the whine that left Derlord was guttural.
Fucking pricks! With tears crowding his vision, he folded in on himself. His hands went straight for his poor, weeping cock.
They stopped just mere inches away, straining against the cruel, cruel tentacles holding them in place. “Youff-fuck!—“
“Avery.”
“On it!”
Derlord’s head snapped to the side when Avery entered his peripheral. He must have been glaring; Avery flinched back with an apologetic smile. “This is… you’ll enjoy it more in a second…I promise?”
Then, without any decorum, Derlord was lifted up so easily (fuck Avery and his stupid strength), before being pulled back down, his back now flush with Avery’s slimy chest.
His eyes went wide beneath his helmet at the sight of The King and his, now very-bumpy-dick came into full view.
“…W-what…” He attempted to shuffle away, pressing himself further into Avery, his fight or flight kicking into gear. “Ah… I- Avery—“
“Shhh, it’s okay, Der,” Avery said, pinning Derlord’s arms to his sides with a tight embrace. “Stay still, okay?”
“But… I can’t—“
“I know you can take it,” Avery said sweetly, nuzzling his head into the side of Derlord’s helmet. “You’re so durable after all.”
Derlord’s mouth fell open, his words failing him as The King’s dick inched closer.
What was once, an already intimidating yet smooth length, The King’s dick had transformed into a ridge-filled weapon. Symmetrical rows of bumps lined its surface varying in size and shape all the way down to the base.
I’m going to die if that enters me.
His knees came together instinctively.
Tentacles wrapped around his ankles, prying them apart until his legs formed a horizontal line.
Then, the tip of The King’s monstrosity kissed his entrance and Derlord’s stomach dropped.
“H-halt!!”
Avery’s grip on his arms loosed immediately in concern.
Thankfully, The King stilled just as quickly. He tilted his head to the side. “You hesitate? But I have seen you take larger?”
“No… I…” The size wasn’t the issue, but the texture—
“You want to stop, Der?”
“I will revert it if you are uncomfortable, Little Lord.”
Blushing furiously, Derlord squinted down between his trembling thighs.
It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable… just a little surprised?
His gaze traced the outline of each and every bump, noting how The King’s dick was never actually still. Even now, its form fluctuated, as if unsure on the shape to settle on.
Curiosity ran rampant in the back of his mind at the possibilities, overtaking his hesitation.
“…Avery.”
“Yes, my love?”
“Can you change the texture of yours too?”
Avery hummed right beside his ear, the sound reverberating through his helmet. “I tried, just a moment ago,” he started, while absentmindedly pulling Der back into a gentle hug. “But I think I need more practice?—“
“Deep concentration is required to alter a slime’s surface texture,” The King cut in casually. “The slime behind you is too busy drooling over your visage to execute such efficiency.”
“H-hey!” Avery sputtered. “Like you can say anything!"
"I can say more than you."
"Oh yeah? Der, watch this— keep looking at his dick, okay?"
Caught off guard by the sudden command, Derlord did in fact look, mostly because he couldn’t bring himself to look away the entire time.
Suddenly, both of Avery’s hands settled at his chest, causing Derlord to blink owlishly in surprise. “What are you—“ His question morphed into a breathless whimper as Avery started to massage his chest; pushing and kneading.
As Derlord panted, Avery switched to rolling his nipples— still sensitive from The King's earlier teasing. He bit down on his own arm to stop any moans from escaping him.
With a fond huff, Avery let go of one of his pecs in favour of bringing Derlord’s arm back down to his side, still incessantly massaging the other. “Don’t hide, you sound so sweet. See?… The King can’t even keep his dick still when you moan.”
When Derlord’s eyes found The King’s dick again, his breath hitched at the way it rippled and shook; never once settling on a form. “No, haa, he doesn’t—“
Smaller and sharp. Then larger and smooth. Then even larger, and bumpy—
“How foolish…” The King grit out, averting his gaze to the side as he hovered over him.
Hypnotised by the sight, Derlord’s heart raced in his ears. The blush on his face probably rivalled that of The King’s.
Avery pulled his hand away, once more bringing Der into a tight embrace, resting his head on his shoulder. “Do I get another point for that, Der?”
The King sputtered, jerking back with wide eyes. “Infuriating slime!—“
How ridiculous. Derlord snorted a sharp breath through his nose, then a light chuckle.
He heard Avery’s face bubble beside him; The King’s blush deepened, coupled with a scowl.
“My chest isn’t really all that great…”
The King’s gaze flickered away immediately, a crease in between his brows.
Derlord frowned at that.
Okay…That’s not… normal.
“What is it then?” he asked.
When The King flinched, Derlord could only watch on with complete confusion.
A moment ago, the King had seemed utterly incapable of embarrassment. Now he looked as though he’d rather be banished into a box than answer a simple question.
Avery’s grin widened along his shoulder. “Oh, this should be good.”
“Be quiet.”
“Make me.”
“I will crush the core within you.”
Avery stuck his tongue out at him. “And let Der think that you only like his chest?
Annoyed, The King inhaled sharply through his nose, before turning his head back to Derlord. There was another moment of hesitation as The King’s eyebrows pinched together progressively worse. “Your trust,” he said in one quiet breath.
“My… my what?”
Under The King’s intense gaze, it was Derlord’s turn to blush harder. “Must you make me repeat myself?”
“You should,” Avery answered immediately.
“My words are not meant for your ears.”
Derlord found himself staring at the blush plastered under The King’s eyes; something in his chest felt tight.
The King values my trust?
Of all the things he had expected to hear, that had not even crossed his mind. And for some reason, he feared that the sentiment was shared.
The King looked away again, visibly struggling to continue. Although, as if a seal had broken in a dam, The King sighed, before letting it all spill. “Do not reduce my interest in you to something so arbitrary,” he said at last. “Yes, your appearance is pleasing. That much is obvious. But no… your true appeal lies elsewhere.”
“His ass?” Avery snickered.
Determined to continue despite Avery’s interruptions, The King flashed the slime his middle finger, all while holding intense eye contact with Derlord. “You face situations that should break you, and somehow emerge with a solution nobody else considered. It is baffling.”
“That's not exactly a compliment,” Avery added cheerfully.
“It is from an entity such as myself,” The King grit out.
Despite himself, Derlord felt the corner of his mouth twitch, feeling strangely touched. The King’s gaze settled back on him; his breath hitched at the sight of The King's sincere expression.
“Your bravery is oftentimes inconvenient.”
Avery chuckled in the ear of his helmet again. “You were a lot more convincing when it was just me and you, Hastur. Don’t tell me you’re getting shy now?”
The King shot him an annoyed look. “Cease your noise.”
The confusion on Derlord’s face was probably evident. “You two… talked about me?”
Avery’s eyes lit up at that, “Oh, Der. You have no idea.” Then in his best attempt at a Hastur impression, his face morphed into a scowl; his voice low and gravelly. “‘Hello peasant. My name is Hastur and I have become enamoured with the mortal whose mind I was trapped in for the past few months.’”
The King’s eyes widened with disbelief.
“'Oh yeah?'” Avery mimicked himself, now in his usual tone. “'You’re probably lying so that you can get our guards down! What, exactly, do you like about him?'”
Flailing, The King’s hands reached out to clasp a hand around the slime’s mouth, but Avery was quicker. He used Derlord as a shield, ducking behind the startled knight.
“‘Even when I torture him with useless information, he somehow makes use of these facts, his ability to turn a bad situation into a good one is… is abounding?—‘“
“Astounding. Do not mock me—“
“Ahhh, astounding, yeah, that one! And then there was the one about how kind you are, Der—“
“Enough!”
The King’s command summoned their complete silence and the urge to hide slammed right back into Derlord as The King glared at him, embarrassed and somewhat frightened.
“Is… is that true, Hastur?”
This time, Avery didn’t speak for The King. Although, with the constipated look on his face, he probably wished that Avery had.
Nevertheless, apparently the eldritch slime was done with words anyways. He raised a hesitant hand towards the knight, and with a touch so uncharacteristically gentle, he caressed the cheek of his helmet.
Derlord's head fell to the side as a response, chasing the contact before his mind could think about what to do.
Hopeless.
They were all equally hopeless.
And just as The King had commented on his bravery, Derlord risked pressing his lips to the inside of The King’s slimy palm. An uncharacteristic gentle touch of his own.
Slimes didn’t need to breathe. Derlord knew that as a fact.
So when The King’s breath hitched, Derlord knew that The King had received his wordless reply.
Although, when Derlord felt something twitch against his thigh… he knew that The King’s dick had received it too.
A small, fond smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The King was so easy.
It was still wavering in its form, ironically reflecting the way Derlord's heart felt, threatening to beat out of his chest.
After a moment of hesitation. “…Can you make it bigger?” Derlord asked as innocently as he could, trying to ignore the fact that his face was melting.
Avery snickered. “I think Hastur forgot to mention that he also likes your curiosity.”
“His incessant need to question every mystery placed before him has caused me no end of trouble.” He then answered Derlord’s question by pulsing his member, morphing it into the same shape as earlier albeit with more prominent ridges. “Though I suppose the alternative would be worse… Are you sure that you are ready?”
Derlord had never been one to back down in the face of the unknown.
“I’m…I’m ready… just slowly.”
Especially, not when the unknown had already become someone he cared for, no matter how annoying he was.
“…Please Hastur?” he added breathlessly.
The King grinned at him, his sharpened fangs on full display. “As you wish, Little one.”
The head of The King’s dick nudged into him again; Avery held him tighter to steady him.
When the first row of bumps stretched him, Derlord’s jaw clenched so hard that his jaw almost locked.
A few more inches slid in— Derlord’s eyes fluttered closed as the bumps caught on his rim, then delved deeper.
His hips stuttered, pulling The King in even deeper— they massaged his insides, melding him to its shape— then more.
As if he wasn’t already coming apart at the seams, Avery had decided to torture him further; subjecting Derlord’s neck and shoulder to teasing licks and nibbles.
When The King angled his dick towards his prostate— “Mngh!-F-Fuck!—“ Derlord came with a cry. His dick dribbled pathetically in time with the weak flickers of the mark on his abdomen.
But The King still wasn’t done.
Static crossed the corners of his vision as The King continued spearing him open, each ridge stretching him further as they got thicker, and thicker.
I’m going to die.
Avery kissed the side of his helmet sweetly. “Amazing… you’re doing so well…” His hand crept towards Derlord’s lower stomach and overstimulation raced through him as Avery massaged the distended skin, rubbing against the bumps as they slid further inside him.
Derlord’s chest was heaving now, his cheeks felt warm and moist from the tears that had spilled down from the overstimulation.
Finally, The King bottomed out with a grunt and Derlord’s dick still somehow jumped at the burning stretch.
When The King pulled out in one, smooth sweep— the ridges pulling at his rim mercilessly; he had one last delirious thought as he struggled in Avery’s hold.
They’re going to kill me— I’m going to die on his dick… And I'm glad?
Although as The King remained stationary, Derlord let out a desperate, breathy whimper, feeling very-not-glad.
Anticipation was building at his core again, his abdomen contracting around nothing and maybe he would rather die taking dick then whatever torture this was.
“Shall I grant you mercy?” The King mused aloud.
“Ple, please, I— Mngh!— F-fuck!” He was sobbing again, writhing around in Avery’s arms, the only thing keeping him from impaling himself on the taunting length before him.
“Please, what. What would you like?”
Oh. My. Notch.
Not this again.
"Move!" Derlord said. The King looked so blurry from all the tears in his eyes. Derlord hoped that the glare he sent him was at least a little effective. "If you don't, ha, move, I'm going to straaah-strangle you!”
Safe to say, it wasn't very effective. The King's grating grin came back in full effect.
"Is that so? But you are already aware that slimes do not need to breathe."
Derlord was going fix that. He wasn't sure how just yet, but he would find a way—
"Do you not wish to continue?"
The whimper that left him was as embarrassing as it was desperate.
Whatever.
Whatever whatever whatever—
What was pride anyway? Just another useless illusion made to torture him.
“Hastur-Ha, Hastur… now? Please? I can’t—“ His hips bucked, chasing the head of his dick but to no avail. “Please! Hastur—“
The King slammed back in with the force of a wrecking ball and Derlord saw white.
“AHhn!?- I, ohhhh—“
For what felt like the hundredth time that night, Derlord came with a choked sob and a drawn out whine as his head fell back on Avery’s shoulder. The strength leaving him instantly.
The ceiling blurred— he couldn’t even close his mouth to stop the train of broken moans that left him as The King fucked him without abandon, his own dick flopping uselessly between them.
“Haa, ahh… mnGh— Hass—“
“Your undoing, haa… sounds divine…”
Then there were tentacles prodding at his rim, and his vision blacked out briefly when they breached.
His gaze snapped down, head lolling weakly as he watched The King stretch him further, now rolling his hips in a deep, slow grind.
“Do you desire more, little song bird?”
Vaguely, he registered that he was nodding his head. He couldn’t even manage words anymore, not when The King added another small tentacle beside the first, pulling his rim taut.
He could feel Avery hardening against his back again, the slime was panting in his ear at the terribly lewd sight before him.
“Haaa… what do I do, Der…” Avery mumbled into his shoulder. “I’m getting jealous again…”
Avery sounding so sad was the equivalent to the world ending. And well, That won’t do, Derlord thought deliriously.
His mouth moved before his mind could catch up. “In, mfff— in me? Plea-ahh… Please Aves?”
Both The King and Avery chuckled quietly at that.
Derlord didn’t even have the time to process that he was being lifted into the air by his arms; all he could focus on was the feeling of being so dreadfully empty, until two heads poked at his entrance.
He was held in place above them, right back on the top of the rollercoaster. And after so many rounds, his dick couldn’t even harden anymore but it tried its best.
He tried to jerk his hips down, but whatever was holding him up didn’t give in— tentacles? Hands? He was too far gone to care—
“-mmn no, don’t! Don’t stop!” Tears dripped audibly onto the mattress below him; he couldn’t stop the sobs wracking through him. “Please? Please, please, I-ah— I’ve been good, r-right?—“
“The best,” Avery hummed.
“It seems as though we are in agreement.”
At least they had finally decided on something together. He only wished that they hadn’t decided to prolong his own misery.
The fight in him left as he went limp in their hold. Were they planning on keeping him there all night? Would they at least let him use his own hands to get himself off?
Automatically, his eyes found the two dicks threatening to breach his entrance.
They were both big respectively, just one was enough to render him useless. But there were two— one smooth and one piercing.
His breaths came in faster.
Insanity.
Would they even fit? He knew that they would. He had taken two of Avery before, but the angle was different. Would they pry him open? Would his ass even go back to normal after this? Would he be left gaping for the rest of his life? And ohhhhh fucking fuck—
His muscles jumped as his mind spiralled, mentally fucking himself on the two dicks before him until he came dry— A single bead of cum escaped his tip as the mark on his stomach flared a yellow-hue once more. He couldn’t even keep his head up, not that he could even bring himself to try.
Thankfully, The King tilted it up with a hand, leaning in to lap at the tears through the gap in his helmet. In unison, Avery stroked his hips with his thumb, but his nerves were so fried that the innocent sensation made heat crawl into his stomach again.
He gasped out once more, struggling to breathe. “Please…” he whispered. It sounded more like a prayer.
And in the next moment. He was sent to heaven.
Both The King and Avery slammed him down until he bottomed out completely, punching straight into his gut that Derlord couldn’t even moan; there was no air left in his lungs.
Despite all odds, a noise that was barely human tore from his throat, and when he was raised and dragged down again— Derlord screamed a cry, drool escaping the corners of his mouth as he was filled to completion.
“Fuh-gckk!- AhH? Ave—Hast! Uhh-“ The words mocked him as they struggled to escape. He was babbling with each thrust, mind going blank as every drag pressed against his poor, abused prostate.
Another deeper slam.
His insides were probably bruised from how hard they were going and he couldn’t even stop his eyes from rolling back at the thought that he might die from being fucked by both of their dicks. Impossibly, there was fire pooling in his belly again, his hands going numb.
Thrust after mind-numbing thrust.
“Fuck! He’s so tight—“ Avery hissed. Derlord barely registered his words, but somehow it translated to another annoying hypothetical: How would it feel to rub his own dick alongside the textured bumps of The King’s own member?
The question spiralled until the image of three dicks spearing him open sent him over the edge, his entire body twitching him away from the bartering ram inside of him.
They weren’t going to let him get away—so they dragged him down to the base with grunted curses, bottoming one last time as Derlord’s ass milked them for all they had.
“G-Good. So- haa, so good,” The King choked out.
Avery on the other hand couldn’t manage anything other than a drawn out whimper.
Derlord was thankful for that. Right about now, Avery would usually say something completely unhinged—
“Der, sweetie… moan twice if I win.”
“Y-You wretched slime! Know your place!”
Derlord would have gawked at them if The King’s dick hadn’t expanded inside of him. Probably in indignation.
His stomach spasmed to accommodate the sudden change in size and Derlord’s back almost snapped in half. He couldn’t even find his own dick, the bump in his stomach prevented him from seeing it.
“Ha! That was a moan! Looks like I win—“
“He vocalised once, not twice!—“
Then with the aim to prove him wrong, Avery ground his hips upwards, rolling them straight into Derlord’s prostate.
The moan that Derlord let out was so pathetic, he would have preferred it if their dicks had killed him.
"Fshhhhghh.. shut… uhh…" He didn't get to finish his complaint.
Whatever small mercy it was, the overstimulation tugging at his nerves rendered his vision useless. As darkness overtook him, the sound of their bickering faded into the background and Derlord had never felt so relieved.
“Your turn to cook, Hastur. Losers weepers.”
A tendril flew across the table, narrowly missing the grinning slimes head.
“I was responsible for more of his orgasms—“
“Yeah but, he didn’t actually get to give you a point for them—“
The King’s form surged upwards, tentacles erupting from underneath him. “You!—“
Derlord sighed. A weary, weary sigh.
Both Avery and The King snapped their gazes towards him at the sound.
“Hastur… Sit.”
With his head drooping, The King fell back into his seat silently and Avery snickered.
Before The King could retaliate, Derlord sharpened his gaze towards Avery. “And you.”
“Y-yes, Der?”
“Go cook.”
“What?! But I won!—“
Shifting his weight forward, Derlord shook his head as he stood, bracing himself along the table. “Fine. Then I’ll cook—“
“No!— No, stay! Stay seated!” Avery shot up from his chair, scrambling towards the kitchen. “I’ll be quick!” he shouted over his shoulder.
Once the slime was out of sight, Derlord eased himself back down into his chair with a hiss. Although, in his peripheral, The King was radiating an air of smugness.
“It is no surprise that you have decided to crown me the victor—“
“I have now decided that it is a draw,” Derlord mumbled. “Go join Avery in the kitchen.”
The King’s brows furrowed. “A draw? Must I bend you over this table to be granted recognition?!”
Derlord could only stare at him in disbelief, his ass throbbing in disbelief also.
He needed a different tactic to deal with this insatiable freak.
“…If you make something nicer than Avery, I might give you another point.”
There was a moment of silence as he watched the cogs in The King’s brain work. He doubled down with the softest, most pleading gaze he could manage.
“I’d really like it if you cooked for me, Hastur… You’ll do that for me, won't you?”
The King tilted his head up, looking down at Derlord haughtily. The terrible blush giving the eldritch slime away was somewhat endearing.
“Very well. I suppose I can make an exception just this once.” He rose from his chair with poorly concealed excitement, before slipping into the hallway.
Silence filtered into the room, coaxing the knight to drop his shoulders.
He hadn’t quite expected his plan to work that easily, but he found himself suddenly thankful for The King’s strange enthusiasm.
With that admission, he sagged back in his chair savouring the quiet; both mentally and physically. A satisfied smile tugged on the corners of his lips.
Peace. At last—
CRACK!
“Stay on your side of the kitchen! I was here first!”
SMASH!
“You can not place raw chicken next to the beef! Your incompetence will not remain unpunished!”
With a groan, Derlord’s hands gripped his helmet so hard that it wouldn’t be a surprise if the metal had dented.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
CRASH!—
“H-hey! That was… his favourite mug…” Avery’s voice echoed quietly.
“This is! This is your doing!—“
“Quick! Just fix it with your weird slime moulding thing— before Derlord finds out!“
"Stand back, peasant. You are about to witness a miracle."
Derlord glared at the hallway, the hottest fire burning in his eyes.
Nobody is leaving this house alive, he thought while rising from his chair, now filled with a sharpened resolve and an urge for violence.