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Out of all humiliating things that Skott has done in his whole life, he could never imagine that being fucked in the open would be top it all.
He has barked like a dog, howled like a feral wolf according to what he has been told, croaked like a frog because of Reca (or Grady at that time. Skott just didn't care honestly, he still got humiliated).
But being on his stomach, ass up, face buried into his arms while said man (Reca) was fucking him from behind. Whispering the most dirtiest shit known to mankind in his ear.
Skott can't help but wonder how he got himself in a situation where he'd be having his first time and his virginity being taken in public and in a humiliating way.
And not to mention; there was a crowd starting to gather around, watching.
The IPC worker let out a pitiful sob as one of Reca's hands gripped his hair, tugging it. “Look at the audience my dear producer, you wouldn't want to disappoint them, yes?” He hummed as he forced Skott to look at the “audience” as Reca called them.
Most of the crowd were mainly watching, observing even. Then there's some that were perverts. And then there's Caelus and Robin. (Aventurine and Boothill dipped somewhere).
Robin was covering her face with her wings, obviously embarrassed. Caelus on the other hand looked a bit disgusted.
Skott, for once, couldn't blame the trailblazer.
The IPC worker felt disgusted himself. He definitely wasn't going to live this down in the future.
“R– Reca..please– please–” Skott whined. He didn't know what he was begging for. Mercy? Mercy for what? For Reca to let him preserve his tiny bit of dignity and public image?
Or did he want Reca to continue?
Skott didn't know himself.
“Not yet, my dear producer.”
Skott whined. He didn't really want to continue to look at the crowd, he much rather hide his face again.
Yeah, he definitely isn't living this down later.
…
At some point, the memokeeper had flipped Skott over onto his back, gripping his waist tightly. No doubtedly leaving marks.
The thought made the IPC worker sob. He had too many unraveled mixed feelings.
He wasn't a feeling guy, nor a sex guy. He didn't have sex at all. He had always focused on getting ahead.
And now here he was, getting his virginity taken by an eccentric unhinged memokeeper in public. It was throwing him out of the loop and his usual comfort zone.
He will work out his feelings later once this is over. His brain was an absolute mess at the moment.
Skott dug his nails into the floor as Reca bit down on his shoulder, he let out a soft cry.
Fuck he hated this memokeeper but he buried his face into Reca's chest, whining and moaning. Trying to hide himself from the crowd.
He isn't sure if that trailblazer and Robin were still there too, he didn't want to know.
“You're doing so well, producer.” Reca purred.
Was he really doing well? Skott didn't think he was.
He was a mess. He felt utterly humiliated.
I mean, who wouldn't be?
Being fucked in public and getting his virginity taken like this wasn't exactly on his to-do list.
Skott whimpered before letting out a pathetic cry when he felt Reca's cock hit his prostate. His back arched slightly.
“Shut…ah!-- up!” He whined out, keeping his face buried in Reca's chest. The memokeeper simply ignored his so-called “protest” and started targeting his prostate.
Reca grabbed the back of Skott's head and pulled it away from his chest, earning a whine of protest. The memokeeper then buried his face into Skott's neck, biting down.
Skott whined again. His body trembling. “You sound better like this, producer.” Reca purred against his neck.
He wanted this memokeeper to shut up. The dirty talk wasn't helping the humiliation he was feeling.
If you asked him, Skott would actually prefer barking like a dog or oinking like a pig (he never actually went through with that, did he?)
The IPC worker felt himself getting close. Now his mind is debating on holding back, not wanting to fall apart in front of the crowd. (To be fair, he already was falling apart, whether it was willingly or not.)
“You close, producer?” Reca teased, one hand grabbing Skott's cheek, forcing him to meet his gaze.
The blonde let out a pitiful sob.
Fuck this guy! (And Skott doesn't mean literally!)
The memokeeper chuckled.
“Cum for me, my dear producer. I can tell you want to.” He ordered.
Before Skott could stop himself, his body obeyed the order. He sobbed as he spilled all over himself and Reca.
Reca came not long after him. The IPC worker felt the memokeeper filling him up, it made him whine.
“We're not done.”
Skott whimpered. “Reca– please–” He pleaded.
Reca only interrupted him with a kiss and a tongue shoving its way into his mouth, Skott let out a muffled whine as he could only take what he's given.
Yeah, he's not living any of this down.
…
Skott groaned softly, everything felt sore. He slowly woke up in a… oh, this was the room where he, Mr. Oti, and Reca had been back during the Holy Grail.
He noticed he had his IPC uniform on again.
As memories came back to him, he sat up. He looked around for a few moments, biting his lower lip. Trying to keep his emotions in check.
No. He wasn't going to cry here.
He slowly sat up, wincing in pain. The only thought in his head right now was getting back to his hotel room.
Skott swore he could still feel Reca's hands on him, he swallowed. Finding himself hugging himself.
Fuck.
Maybe some luck on his side that Reca won't make it into some kind of porn film and risk the IPC seeing it.
Fuck, what happens then?
Skott didn't know. He found himself hesitating. As if he didn't want to leave into the public after what had happened.
No. He can't do that.
He might as well stay here until the excitement dies down.
…
Whenever that may be…