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He looks at the slip of parchment. Shrugs. His apathy only serves to infuriate the man holding it. Oh. But he looks so delightfully flustered about it all.
"How many more times, Azem!" The parchment is slapped down onto his desk. "Not a single day goes by without me wondering if you'll be sanctioned again ! Do you really think so little of your office that you'd--"
"Well," Azem interrupts, causing Emet-Selch's brows to furrow even more delightfully, "I assume you stood up for me, then. At the inquiry."
" UGH ." Emet-Selch is pinching the bridge of his nose, now. "Of course I did, but had you not transformed in the first place, the Convocation would not have serious questions about your propriety--"
"Had I worried about propriety, we'd have something a lot bigger than a slightly damaged domicile, Emet-Selch. Yes, I transformed in a highly trafficked district in front of dozens. You were there. It was also the right thing to do , and I'll be damned if a life-threatening incident comes down to some idiotic argument about ego."
"I don't make the rules, Azem."
"There isn't even a rule!"
"They might add one, if you keep gallivanting about like this! I can cover for you once, maybe twice. But you transform so liberally and so often--"
"It's simply more efficient!" Azem's hands fly up in exasperation. "And you enjoy it, besides!"
"Oh, no." Emet-Selch looks absolutely incensed, now. "Don't you dare bring me into this."
"Why not, Emet-Selch?" There's a mischievous glint in Azem's blue eyes. "You could have helped me--"
"I was. Keeping people away from the building, as you asked. "
"It would have been trivial to aid me your aether. To stop me."
"You are twisting the narrative, now--"
"You practically allowed me to transform in front of everyone. Perhaps wanted me to, even."
"Azem, that's ridiculous ."
"Is it?" Azem's gaze is lidded. He leans in close to Emet-Selch. "Is it so ridiculous that you might find me pleasant to look upon?"
For his part, Emet-Selch manages a remarkable amount of self-control - taking a step back from Azem and adjusting his mask.
"Now you're just baiting me."
"Perhaps. Is it working, my dearest Hades?"
"No." Emet-Selch's cheeks are tinged pink. It's hard to tell if it's from his earlier anger or not.
"Liar." Azem says it so casually, picking imaginary lint from the front of his robes. "Does it bother you that I expose myself so in public?"
Emet-Selch isn't the jealous type. He doesn't need to be. But the question makes him flinch.
"Hardly," he says.
"Then what's the issue?"
"The people may think of you lesser. You embarrass yourself and your station...ugh. Again, I'm just being practical , Azem."
"Practical." Azem let's the word roll around in his mouth. Slide from the tip of his tongue. "Well, the opinions of the populace, while important, do not factor into what I find is most efficient in any given scenario. I, quite frankly, don't care if they are scandalized. And in fact…"
He pauses. Darts forward, pulling the mask from Emet-Selch's face before he can stop him. Plants a kiss on those plush, frowning lips.
"I welcome it."
There’s a thud. A push back and the rustling of robes. The two go careening across the desk, knocking books and paperwork aside.
“You are a menace ,” Emet-Selch growls. The way Azem relinquishes control is almost gleeful, as if he was just waiting for Emet-Selch to take charge of the situation.
“I thought Hythlodaeus was the menace.” The grin on his face just reinforces that this is exactly where he wants to be.
“You both are.” Emet-Selch replies, his teeth finding Azem’s exposed neck as the man below him shifts, twisting larger beneath hands that are suddenly much too small to hold him. Bared skin becomes speckled with grey down, leaving the man spluttering and spitting out feathers with a dismayed noise.
“You make my point for me!” He grouses, a second pair of eyes lancing open, his own form growing to match Azem’s, robes replaced with leathery scales and chitin. “Now sit still, or I shall make you –”
“Forgive me, Hades.” Azem’s clawed hand ghosts across Emet-Selch’s face. “I just wanted to see you - truly you.” Lord of the Underworld. Keeper of his hearth. For both of them to be transformed was something truly intimate. The basest selves of not one, but two Convocation members sharing in each other.
“You might have just asked,” Emet-Selch mutters, with a soft snort. But he understands. Azem loves in his own way, agitating yet adorable, taloned feet hooking themselves around him now to pull him close with a coo.
“You enjoy the foreplay.”
“I believe, Euclid , that it is mostly for your own benefit. Not mine.”
More laughter. “Perhaps, but I do not hear you complaining now.” As if to further the point, he grinds himself against Emet-Selch’s front. The way he shudders at the touch? Unmistakable, as the pseudo-robes part to reveal his half-hardness, throbbing gently, to the air.
“Do you think of me like this, Hades?” Azem’s taunts turn breathy, his own arousal evident in how the feathers around his slit dampen, slick transferring itself to Emet-Selch with how their bodies move against one another. “When I am out, exposed to the world, do you think of us like this?”
“Not answering that.” A gold tipped talon brushes through that dampness, presses itself inside to curl. Pre leaks from his shaft as he coaxes Azem’s own tapered hardness out from that cloaca, into the air - red, needy, wet from his insides.
He doesn’t have to, of course. To see him transformed, exhibited for all the world to see - it is good Emet-Selch’s self-control is legendary. That he is not jealous. For if he were he would have taken Azem there long ago. Instead they meet in secret - expectant, wanting monsters after the fact, selves stretched to the breaking point of their willpower to join together in a writhing, sloppy mess.
And oh, how Azem is sloppy, now. Emet-Selch works him expertly with those fingers, leaving his prick twitching and needy as he every so often touches the base with the ministrations to his hole. He’s a panting, heaving mess and Hades hasn’t even penetrated him yet.
Then he does.
Transformed, Emet-Selch is massive, and even when Azem is the same he stretches delightfully around each ridge, the curve of the thing pressing in all the right places. They sit there, joined, Azem wiggling just a little beneath Emet-Selch before they–
“Hello there!” Hythlodaeus calls out. There’s the tinkling of concept crystals and the sound of him hip checking the apartment’s door closed. “May I ask what you’re up to–oh! Oh. ” He peers through the doorway into the study. “Shall I come back later? Or shall I–” One of Emet-Selch’s giant extra arms reaches through the door. Grabs Hythlodaeus by the middle.
“ Do you mind?! ” Emet-Selch half growls, half moans as Azem takes the opportunity to move, removing the man’s dick from inside him before sheathing him once more. “We are–oh you would enjoy this, wouldn’t you.”
Hythlodaeus’s own erection is very obvious. He wiggles his eyebrows at Emet-Selch, who drops him in a huff, allowing him to disrobe.
“I will admit,” he says, with a chuckle, “I anticipated you being here. I hope you don’t mind that I, ah, prepared .”
“You are terrible !” Azem is giggling now, high and tremulous as Emet-Selch attempts to regain control of the situation, his hips pistoning and causing Azem’s body to jolt in pleasure each time he bottoms out. “Look– ahhh – Hades.”
Emet-Selch’s glowing eyes widen as he sees Hythlodaeus remove the plug. Scandalous. Wonderful. Back end already stretched and lubed, he clambers up atop the desk and takes the first few inches of Azem’s tapered dick easily with a pleased moan. Each thrust from Emet-Selch into Azem sends him further and further downwards, until Hythlodaeus is bulging from how far he’s taken him.
The whole thing has Azem quickly devolving into a swearing, slurring mess as he’s worked from above and below by the two men. “Fuck me up,” he manages to get out, and they don’t need to be told twice. Somehow Hythlodaeus manages to bottom out on Azem - it should be impossible, at his size, but creation help Azem, he’s done it - as Emet-Selch glides effortlessly in and out of his stretched, aching hole and the feeling of being absolutely full while absolutely ensheathed sends him over the edge first.
Azem clenches so hard around Emet-Selch he sees stars, and creation above, there’s nowhere to go inside Hythlodaeus but somehow there’s room and as his hips jerk and shake out of control he empties himself fully into the man - cum leaking from where they meet.
Emet-Selch is next - it’s only a thrust or two more and his own orgasm is filling Azem with an oozing of concentrated aether and spend together that has his hole further spasming in pleasure.
Last to the party, Hythlodaeus is last to finish but he doesn’t seem to mind. He hums pleasantly as he moves up and down atop Azem’s softening shaft, touching himself until he finally, with his own cry, paints white across his chest. He finally removes himself with a squelch and a splatter, collapsing across Azem’s broad, feathered chest.
“Mmm.” Hythlodaeus’s ass oozes white-tinged-azure in a trail as he shifts upwards to press a kiss to Emet-Selch’s jaw. “Beautiful, the both of you. We should do this more often.”
“How much of this did you plan?” Emet-Selch asks, scooping both Azem and Hythlodaeus both from the desk and moving towards the bed. With a snap, his and Azem’s form rapidly shrink until they are human once more in the mattress's embrace.
"Must you go so soon?" Hythlodaeus neatly sidesteps the insinuation with a question of his own.
"We do not fit on the bed like that." Hades says, with a roll of his eyes. "Answer the question."
"I'm surprised we're using the bed at all," says Azem, yawning. "Given the mess we've made, I'd thought you'd be loath to ruin the sheets."
"There is no reason you cannot clean the mess later. And stop covering for him."
"Mayhap I just happened to be ready. Mayhap it was planned." Hythlodaeus puts a finger to his lips. "In any case, the result is thus. Thus, does it matter?"
"Of course it matters!" Emet-Selch exclaims. He's blushing furiously again.
"That's interminably hot," groans Azem, kicking Hythlodaeus playfully. "Have care, or we're liable to get a round two - and I don't think your ass can hold much more!"
"Only one way to find out!" Declares Hythlodaeus.
"Maybe later," mutters Emet-Selch, as he moves in to further spoon the man. "Leave me to my rest, for now."
They lapse into silence, then - Azem, Emet-Selch, and Hythlodaeus in between - and slowly drift off, still sticky, still smelling of sex.