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In his room on the bus, Outis sits back, legs spread, exuding control with every inch of his posture.
His company shirt is open, exposing the tight muscle of his chest and the top surgery scars there. Even in nakedness, he holds himself with the same rigid authority he usually does. The cock between his legs stands firm, flushed dark with arousal and giving a noticeable pulse against the cool air.
Faust knees between his thighs, expression placid as ever save from the light dusting of rosy red on her cheeks, while Don Quixote watches, rapt with attention, eyes wide like a squire being taught the art of war.
“You must pay close attention, Don Quixote,” Faust murmurs, her tone even and instructive. “A body like Outis’ undergoes certain changes when exposed to testosterone. For example, he has experienced clitoral growth due to the hormones—what you see here is an elongated structure, highly sensitive due to an increase in androgen receptors. The shaft…” Faust presses a single, deliberate kiss with pink lips to the base of Outis’ t-dick, her breath warm against him. “...responds best to firm pressure. However…” Her tongue flicks over the tip, slow and dragging out a low grunt from Outis. “...the head is exponentially more reactive. You must be careful not to overstimulate him.”
Don Quixote gives a vigorous nod, completely engrossed in this lesson, of sorts. “Verily, Lady Faust, thou dost possess wisdom beyond mortal ken! I shall heed thy every word and serve mine captain with utmost reverence!”
Outis huffs, amused despite himself. "We'll see," he rumbles, watching her with sharp, assessing eyes.
Faust hums, pleased with his response, and then continues. "You must also be aware of what is off-limits. Men like Outis do not desire penetration of their front hole. Outis, in particular, does not wish for contact there, as the sensation is unwelcome to him. You will focus solely on external stimulation, understood?"
Don Quixote flushes deeply as she gives another firm nod, though she glances up at Outis with something like reverence. "Aye… aye, good lady, I understand!”
Outis groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Must you be so clinical?”
Faust merely tilts her head, unbothered. "Knowledge is essential for proper service."
Don Quixote places a hand over her chest, as if swearing in to an oath. “Fret not, captain! I shall honor thy preference and bring thee pleasure as thou seest fit!”
Outis scoffs. “Then get to work, oh knight,” Outis orders, pressing a firm hand to the back of her head, guiding Don Quixote down between his legs, nearly cheek-to-cheek with Faust in their position.
Don Quixote swallows hard, her nerves momentarily overriding her bravado, but she obeys all the same, leaning in to flick her tongue hesitantly along Outis’ length. Faust watches her closely adjusting Don Quixote’s positioning with steady hands, her touch clinical but assured.
“Relax your mouth,” Faust instructs, shifting behind Don Quixote so that her breasts are pressed to the other woman’s back. “Let your tongue remain soft but engaged. The underside is particularly sensitive, so drag your lips along it gently, like this.” Faust reaches down, stroking along Outis’ stout shaft with her fingers, mapping out the most responsive areas as an example. Outis inhales sharply through his nose, biting his lip.
“Y-yes. Erm… of course,” Don Quixote follows the movements of Faust’s fingers, dragging her lips down and then back up, her breath warm against him. Outis watches her, the way the little knight’s uncertainty gives way to growing confidence.
"Good," Outis murmurs, deep voice approving. "You’re learning."
Faust hums in agreement, shifting one hand to Don Quixote’s hip, her fingers stroking absently in a way that makes Don Quixote’s entire body warm and shiver. "Now, use your mouth more fully, Don Quixote. Take him in, but mind your teeth."
Don Quixote nods, and then swallows Outis down as far as she can, moaning softly as she works. Outis lets his head tilt back slightly, exhaling through his teeth. Faust, ever the scientist, observes them both with something close to satisfaction, her hands never idle: always adjusting, guiding, and correcting.
Outis’ hands go to Don Quixote’s soft blonde hair, fingers slipping into the strands, digging into the root of her scalp to control her pace. "That’s it,” he chuckles. “Good girl.”
Faust presses closer, her lips at Don Quixote’s ear. "Your captain is pleased. But I believe you can do better. Shall we push further?”
“Mmm,” Don Quixote moans around Outis' length, her body shivering underneath Faust’s gentle, guiding touch, and Outis—watching them both, feeling himself melt into the pleasure of control—decides this was, in fact, an excellent idea.
Don Quixote’s lips stretch around Outis' length, her tongue flattening against the underside, tracing the familiar ridges of skin that feel both foreign and fascinating beneath her mouth. It is unlike anything she has known: a contrast to the softness she expected, yet not quite like the hardness of a knight’s lance. Outis' t-dick is firm, yes, but with a supple give when she presses her tongue just right. It pulses against her lips, responding with such vivid sensitivity that she can feel him twitch at every shift of her tongue.
Faust murmurs in her ear, guiding her further. "Do you feel that, Don Quixote? The way his shaft swells slightly as you suck?" Her fingers press into Don Quixote’s hips, adjusting her posture so she remains stable as she takes Outis deeper. "Testosterone increases blood flow, enhancing sensitivity. The nerves are concentrated, so every motion—" her hand ghosts along Don Quixote’s muscled stomach, traveling downward. "—affects him profoundly. Continue."
Don Quixote swallows, moaning again around Outis as she obeys, louder this time; too excited. She bobs her head with renewed vigor, taking Faust’s lessons to heart as she focuses on the weight of him against her tongue, how the heat of his body radiates into her mouth. She flicks the tip with careful precision of her tongue, marveling with internal pride at how Outis’ hips shift just barely in response.
She wants more. Don Quixote realizes, then, that she wants to hear more than just those restrained grunts.
Then, Faust's hand dips lower.
Don Quixote gasps around Outis' length, her back arching as Faust presses firm, deliberate fingers against the damp fabric between her thighs. "A-ah—! My Lady Faaaaaust?”
Outis groans at the vibration of Don Quixote’s voice reverberating against his shaft. His grip in her hair tightens. "Keep going," he orders, his voice rougher, feeding Don Quixote’s desire to please.
Faust hums in approval, her fingers pressing more insistently against Don Quixote’s clothed warmth. "Fascinating. You grow wetter as you serve, Don Quixote. Are you enjoying this lesson?"
Don Quixote whimpers, caught between the overwhelming sensation of Outis filling her mouth and Faust’s fingers stroking her through her clothes. She nods, moaning again as Faust rubs slow, deliberate circles against her.
Outis watches, pupils so dark that they’re nearly black. "She’s a quick learner," he mutters, his fingers flexing in Don Quixote’s hair, the muscles in his arm flexing in what Don Quixote can only assume is an effort to not buck into her tongue.
Faust smirks, and Don Quixote can feel it against the shell of her ear. "She is." Then, to Don Quixote: "Increase your suction. Use your hand at the base."
Don Quixote obeys Faust’s instructions immediately, wrapping her fingers around the base of Outis’ twitching cock, stroking in time with her mouth. Faust rewards her by slipping a hand beneath her panties, finally touching the sticky wetness of her bare cunt. Don Quixote shudders, whimpering helplessly as her thighs quiver.
"My lady Faust… ah! If thou dost touch me… there...!" Don Quixote gasps, her voice catching in her throat like a frog. "My senses shall surely forsake me!" Her hips buck helplessly into Faust’s hand, the flush across her cheeks blooming to her ears. "I-I beseech thee, restrain thine enchantments lest I come undone 'ere I prove my worth to our captain!"
Faust gives the slightest laugh, stroking Don Quixote’s cunt with such maddening slowness that Don Quixote can barely think beyond the beat between her thighs and the taste of her captain on her tongue. “But he likes it, don’t you see? Seeing us, together…”
Don Quixote has always fashioned herself as a prince; a gallant knight with the heart of a lion, strong in conviction and noble in purpose. But here, now, on her knees before Outis, she feels something shift.
He is truly masculine.
Not in the imagined way of fabled knights or fairytale kings, but in the real, solid form before her—his firm, hairy thighs grounding her as she kneels between them, her hands gripping the muscle there for stability. His legs, powerful from years of battle and discipline, frame her as if claiming space that was always his. And his arms: thick, corded with muscle—tense every time she takes him deeper, his fingers flexing in her hair, controlled, dominant, and utterly unyielding.
She has fought beside him, admired his tactical mind, his command over the battlefield. But this… this is a different kind of power. And she serves him just the same.
Faust’s fingers trail to Don Quixote’s clit as she rubs. "Do you see it now, Don Quixote? Do you feel it?" Her voice is smooth, measured, but edged with something a bit more nefarious. "He’s so very masculine, isn’t he? And yet, here he sits, letting you worship him." Her fingers pinch at Don Quixote’s small clit, dragging another moan from her lips, and thus sending vibrations along Outis' length.
Outis groans, a rare moment of restraint slipping. “Sluts,” he spits, and Don Quixote feels herself gush. “The both of you.”
Faust hums softly against Don Quixote’s skin, shifting to meet Outis' gaze. "Does it excite you?" she asks, feigning idle curiosity. "Watching two of your co-workers play for you?"
Outis' response is immediate. His t-dick throbs in Don’s mouth, heavy and twitching against her tongue. His breath hitches. "Yes," he growls, his voice rough with need.
Faust hums shortly. "Then let us finish what we’ve started." She presses her lips to Don Quixote’s ear, whispering, "He’s close. Keep going until he finishes."
Don Quixote’s body tenses at the command, something deep inside of her latching onto it, and driving her forward. She moans around Outis, sucking harder, hollowing her cheeks as she moves faster, determined to serve him until he spills down her throat.
Faust rewards Don Quixote’s devotion, her fingers working in tandem with Don Quixote’s desperate rhythm, her own breath growing uneven.
Outis exhales sharply, his hips lifting just slightly, losing the last thread of control. "Fuck—" His voice is rough and breaking.
Don Quixote takes him deeper, hands gripping those strong, hairy thighs, grounding herself in the sheer masculinity of him. She is his knight, his squire, his devoted servant. And she will not falter.
“Ah—ahhh, Sir Outis!” Don Quixote gasps, her voice trembling around the girth of his cock, lips shining, flushed and frantic, with eyes wide in supplication. She lifts her head just barely, panting, her tongue dragging desperate licks up his shaft. “Prithee, I… nnnh… I beseech thee… come, I implore it, within my mouth…!”
She shudders, thighs trembling, voice rising in pitch with each breath. “Let thy seed bless thy servant’s tongue: thy lowly squire, beneath thee in manhood, undeserving but eager, born only to serve thee, to worship thee, to be filled by theeeee—mmff!”
Faust shuts Don Quixote up by taking hold of the back of her blonde hair, and shoving her forward on Outis’ cock. Both Don Quixote and Outis moan in tandem. Tears swim in Don Quixote’s eyes. She sucks pathetically at the dick in her mouth until Faust pulls her off again, allowing her to speak.
Don Quixote is nearly sobbing as she stares up at Outis, who by this point looks completely amused with the show Don Quixote and Faust are putting on for him. “Please, my captain… reward mine devotion… I exist but to pleasure thee… to prove mine unworthy form still of use to a man such as thou—ahhhh, s-seerrrrrve…” She melts on the final syllable, Faust shoving her down into Outis’ cock again, lips sealing with reverent hunger as she sucks like salvation lives on his tip.
Faust is merciless. Her fingers between Don’s legs stroke faster, pressing into the heat of her, matching the rhythm of her mouth. "That’s it," Faust purrs against Don’s ear. "Make him lose himself, Don Quixote. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Outis groans, his voice deep and breaking, his fingers tightening in Don Quixote’s hair, no longer guiding but just holding on. "Don… Quixote, fuck…" His breath stutters, his powerful thighs flexing beneath her hands.
Don Quixote moans around him, tasting tears in her mouth.
Outis comes undone.
His breath shudders as his release hits, a low moan tearing from within. His hips jerk despite himself, spilling hot and thick into Don Quixote’s mouth. She swallows everything he has to give her on instinct, moaning as Faust strokes her through it.
Outis curses under his breath, and slowly but surely, his grip in Don Quixote’s hair goes slack as he relaxes. Don Quixote, breathless and desperate, licks him clean, reveling in the aftershocks and the proof that she pleased him.
Faust sighs out with a soft breath Don Quixote cannot discern the intention behind, her fingers withdrawing from between Don Quixote’s legs. Don Quixote gives a little whine, but Faust ignores her. "Well done," Faust murmurs, her breath warm against Don Quixote’s blistering skin. "You’ve served your commander well."
Outis finally exhales, a smirk curling at his lips as he tugs Don Quixote’s hair just slightly, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You have improved," he muses, voice hoarse and satisfied. "Perhaps you’re not as useless as I believed. Thank you, Faust,” he says.
Don Quixote, even after being called useless, grins up at him, yellow eyes shining like stars. “Th-thank thee, mine honored captain, for granting a lowly squire such as I the sacred boon to pleasure a true man! Verily, I am humbled, and my soul swelleth with gratitude… for I have gleaned m-much… this day, ah…”
Don Quixote squirms as Faust presses a kiss to her neck. "Now, shall I reward you , dear squire?" Faust asks. “I’m sure Outis would like to watch.”
Don Quixote shivers, her body aching for more. Outis, still basking in the afterglow, just smirks.
"By all means," he says, stretching out at the edge of his seat, watching them both with dark, knowing eyes. “Go ahead.”