Chapter Text
When the fingers curl around his torso and swiftly yank him up and away from his bedding, Jon can immediately tell it isn't Peter, but Elias. Their fingers are markedly different, Elias' slimmer and softer, the most of their usage going towards a stuffy desk job and working computers all day. The faint scent of his lotions also permeates Jon's nose, and his ears are similarly full of their muffled talking, the sounds of fabric and skin shifting. He struggles, briefly, until those same fingers readjust their hold to be more secure, and he knows already that once they've brought him out, he won't be left alone until they're done.
Jon doesn't bother speaking at them, and neither do they to him- he doesn't even think Elias is looking at him as he lifts him out of his cage, and very soon Jon's entire world is made up of silk sheets and Peter's unnaturally pale skin, near glowing in the dim lighting of the bedroom. It seems they're not much for games, tonight, as there's definitely more skin than clothing, if any at all. The smell of Elias' cosmetics is quickly overpowered by the heady musk between Peter's legs, and Jon knows exactly what he's been brought out for now, eyes still heavy with sleep.
The rumble of Peter's pleased baritones and the answering soft laugh from Elias sounds over his head, and his mind is still too sluggish to translate the words properly, but he moans in protest as his legs are nudged open insistently by two slim fingers of Elias' other hand.
Peter is laid out casually against the bed frame, head propped up by luxurious pillows, legs splayed just enough to allow Elias' trim frame to fit between them. Jon can't see his expression past his expansive stomach, graciously covered in a layer of salt and pepper hair, but he imagines it smug and flushed, to match the tones of their banter. In comparison to the paleness of the rest of his flesh, his cock and lips are puffed and pink amidst the bush of his pubic hair, already slicked down and flashing wetly in the lowlight.
Jon cranes his neck back to glimpse Elias, and makes eye contact with his sharp gaze. They're half-lidded, expectant, and his mouth moves as he mutters dark, promising things to his husband even as he coaxes tiny thighs to spread wide. When Jon wiggles in token protest, he gets his arms pinned to his sides in one loose fist, an answering chuckle his only response. His knees make contact with wiry hairs, and immediately he can feel Peter's engorged t-dick fitting neatly between his legs and nudging hot and heavy against his own sex, radiating heat against it and the entire inside line of both his thighs. The hand not clutching him rubs three fingers easily through the flushed lips below, making slick sounds as they gather the wetness there, and bring it up to slather sloppily over the entirety of Jon's lower body, it feels like, in a calculated attempt to ready him. Elias is usually good at prepping him sufficiently for play, but it seems he's counting on Jon's still sleep-slackened body and the heady scent of Peter's arousal to make up for the difference this time. Jon's face burns, in part due to the sensations, mostly to the way they're dismissing him as easily as one would a literal toy.
He's manipulated to rock in slow, pointed motions down onto the blunt tip of the cock, and a whine catches in his throat due to his nerves. Peter's cock is large, nearly the thickness of one of Jon's thighs, and at least half as long. Jon's been able to fit it before, and will be expected to fit it again, and probably many times after this. Their muffled conversation fills his head in counterpoint to his own distressed sounds, knees shifting uselessly and unable to get any traction to separate himself from the threat of it, as if he could have any hope of overpowering either of them at this size.
He knows his time is up when he sees the muscles in Peters' thighs jump- and then Jon is caught between two forces as the giant hips below him thrust up, at the same time Elias' hand pushes down slightly. A strangled wail is knocked out of his chest at the feeling of himself being speared open, hips aching acutely at the stretch. He's forced down inexplicably slowly by a manicured hand, but without mercy. It seems Elias' bets paid off, Jon thinks wryly, as his pathetic muscles tense and then give, and then it's a ridiculously slick slide the remaining inch or so down, and then Peter is nestled brand-hot and twitching inside of his cunt.
The plane of Elias' stomach leans in closer at the same time that Jon senses Peter's bulk pushing towards his back, and then Jon closes his eyes in abject indignation and humiliation as he hears them trade a heated kiss. That's all the reprieve the tiny man gets, as Elias starts to use him on Peter's cock. The rest of Jon's slow thoughts are summarily pushed out of his head.
He's carefully jerked up and pushed down in quick, efficient motions, tiny voice lost to the wet slap of his small hips against the pubic mound and mons. He can feel the thick hair sticking to the tops of his feet, poking between his toes from where his legs are folded under him, made to ride the pulsing hot dick. He can feel Peter's clitoral hood bunching against his ass and taint on every downstroke, and the combination of their slick condenses into a thick lather where they meet and their flesh churn together. Jon's filled repeatedly, space carved out inside him to fit, and his inner walls clench and squeeze on the spongy head nestled as far inside as it can get, Peter's near deafening answering groans and gasps echoing his approval.
When Jon manages to crack his eyes open and look skyward, all he's greeted with is the underside of Elias' chin, as the man is too busy studying the faces Peter must be making to pay their third party any mind. It continues like this for longer than Jon can manage to keep track of, the bouncing motions of his body, the slight bucking of pelvis below him, shaking out any coherency Jon might've been able to scrape together. All he knows is musk, and warmth, and wet, and tightness.
Jon's mind is hazy with rushing blood and heat, but he knows the ride is soon over when the steel-like band of the hand around him holds him down instead of jerking him back up, and then grind his hips insistently into the flesh, making Peter's t-dick pulse against his insides, nearly a second heartbeat inside him, and the massively strong clench of his entrance below is enough to shift the placement of Jon's knees minutely. Things become increasingly more wet, and Jon feels the flesh of his stomach jump along with the cock inside him as he hears a gust of a rusty sigh, and then the bunched muscles around him go lax. Elias' fist loosens considerably, and Jon gasps in a breath that he hadn't realized he was struggling to take before- Elias must've started squeezing him more than he intended during the fucking, and Jon can feel the oxygen he was deprived of for however long making his head rush. His shoulders and ribs are slightly sore, as well.
The wet schlop of Peter's cock sliding out of him as he's lifted away makes him cringe, and he can feel a thread of slick between them break and land on Jon's inner thigh. His pussy clenches a few times on nothing, helpless and still throbbing faintly in the cold rushing air, and Jon knows he somehow didn't cum during the debacle. When his body is tipped back slightly to make him more horizontal, he opens his eyes with great effort to once again make eye contact with Elias. He looks satisfied, tired, and endlessly fond for having used Jon as little more than a fleshlight for him and his husband. Jon closes his eyes and tips his head back weakly with a defeated mewl, and he feels the warm exhale of the man's amused huff against his soaked body, and then the sweltering texture of a tongue is lapping over him in broad strokes. His legs twitch uselessly, toes curling in agonized bliss as the bumps of his taste buds rub up through his labia to collect the mixed fluids there, but they don't linger.
He's licked thoroughly from ass to clit, as well as the inside of his thighs, and even briefly on the slight pudge of his stomach. The rumble of the giant's pleasured hum makes his bones rattle as his legs are inserted into the maw and sucked clean, as well. Jon's cognizant of being brought away from the mouth, and Elias must have procured one of his handkerchiefs to properly finish up the job, cool, smooth fabric carefully used to dry him down.
Careful fingertips brush tenderly down the swells of his chest, the soft of his belly, the curve of his back, sweep his hair away from his face, and he thinks he feels the rough calluses of Peter's fingers intermingled with Elias' in the motions. When he squirms and fusses after a few minutes of this, exhaustion weighing heavy on his mind and limbs, he hears more quiet words exchanged between them, softened with laughter. "Let you sleep, then, shall we? Precious thing, of course. Forgive us."
He's already slipping back down into the depths of the unconscious as he's moved again, and this time he's allowed to nestle into something soft and giving and warm. Jon sleeps. It's all he can do.