Work Text:
Live Laugh Love Cysomen
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Cypher wakes up right where he fell asleep, squished between Omen and Sasha, his body temperature through the roof from both the heating blanket that’s laid over them and the fact that the hunter turns into a living radiator when asleep. He’s sweating, yes, and his hair is sticking to his forehead on top of everything but he wouldn’t trade this feeling- the one of being held, of being loved, safety tingling throughout his whole body for anything in this world.
To give an idea of how little personal space he currently has (not that he minds in the slightest), Omen is currently sat up against the headboard, book between clawed hands, head angled in a way that shows he’s clearly invested in his reading and that he hasn’t realised Cypher is awake, yet. Cypher’s laying on his right side, left arm thrown over Omen’s waist, hand holding his hip in a weird hug. His left leg is also thrown over the Wraith, almost clinging to him like a koala. His face is pressed against his thigh, hiding it away with his hair. Today, he isn’t wearing his mask. He’s getting better at it- letting them both see him, not panicking when his metaphorical shield is down. They’ve seen him naked, on occasions, during showers, and the usual burning sensation he feels when eyes land on his naked skin hadn’t happened, not once, not with them.
They never push him when he puts it back on and he’s forever grateful for it.
Sasha, aka the reason he’s currently twenty degrees over what is healthy for a human being, is completely pressed against Cypher’s back, naked chest against his own thin, sleep shirt. His right arm, the one he’s laying on, is under Cypher’s head, holding it for him. He can’t guess it must be comfortable for the hunter, but he’s never complained before apart from repeatedly flexing his hand when he wakes up, trying to get the pinpricks out of it. His other arm is thrown over Cypher’s waist, pulling him as close as humanly possible and holding him there. It’s happened multiple times in the past where Cypher really had to use the bathroom once awake and he had to wrestle himself out of Sasha’s insanely strong hold. The muscles he has on his whole body aren’t for show- Sasha has one hell of a grip force and just general strength, able to lift Cypher up like he weighs nothing but a couple of grapes to him. He has one of the hunter’s legs between his body curved perfectly around Cypher’s own and he feels right at home between their two bodies.
His nightmares have been less frequent since he started sleeping with them- while awkward at first, due to his reluctance to show them his weaknesses, Omen and Sasha both quickly realised what helped him through them (soft talking, encouraging words, slow movements around him) and what simply made them worse (quick movements, keeping quiet, jostling him around) and got better and better at helping him through the night. It’s what inspired how they sleep- after the hundredth time of Cypher waking up, body tense and muscles flexed as much as they could be in an uncomfortable position, they took to cradling his body instead. Now, when he woke up scared and unable to move, he’d have two bodies grounding him, arms around him, gently holding him and reminding him that he wasn’t alone and it would calm him down faster, help him come back to reality.
Their constant reminder that he doesn’t have to forget to move on, that healing isn’t linear progress but ups and downs and that he’s not bad for having a lot of downs have pulled him through hard days. He still struggles sometimes, of course, but he quickly found his nightmares replaced with them instead. Sasha talking to him in Russian, showing him his bow, explaining how he uses it, Omen reading to him, playing with his hair, humming softly to help him sleep- they’ve been so good to him, so patient and understanding with his issues and Cypher couldn’t, wouldn’t ask for anyone or anything else. He gives back to them in his own way- fixing Sasha’s drone for free, always trying to improve it (he messed up once and inverted the controls on accident- that had made for an interesting mission) and helping him cook meals for them and the whole of the protocol. Due to his lack of a stable body, Omen often struggles with keeping himself whole, so Cypher always helps him wrap himself in his bandages, tying them with love and care, pressing soft kisses on the scarred skin wherever he could.
He takes care of them as they take care of him.
There are remnants of his dream fluttering around in his head when he wakes and he knows it's about them, about her. He talks to them about Nora, sometimes, and his daughter. About his life in Morocco, the sandy streets, the market, the people. He reminisces about the harsh sun and the smells in the air, about dawn and dusk, his home, his family. They always listen carefully, as if Cypher is reciting words of worship that they must listen to and understand to attain salvation. It gets easier with time, talking about his wife and his daughter, and it helps immensely that they both seem to care about them, ask questions about his wife, about his old life, until Cypher gets choked up thinking about them and they comfort him with gentle kisses and praise.
He knows he dreamed of her in a good light, which seems to happen more often these days, and that’s enough for him. His dream had warped halfway through, though, to instead show his two boyfriends. He finds that this tends to happen often- his memories somehow warping back to them in any way they can, especially in his dreams or when he’s up in the clouds, spaced out after working at his desks for ridiculously long hours. He isn’t mad about it, on the contrary, if he could he’d only dream of them and their sweet words forever.
There’s only one thing Cypher hasn’t shared with them yet about him and that’s his name: Aamir. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, it’s simply that he hasn’t gotten around to (he’s one thousand percent procrastinating) and he needs a good time to share that with them. It’s like the last piece of the puzzle for him, the last key they need before unlocking the doors of his heart and seeing him as he is, just a man with a ridiculously high amount of unsolved and pushed-aside trauma. Giving them his name feels like a finality, like he’s truly put all of his walls down and let them in.
Which is why he absolutely does not just blurt it out, half awake, into Omen’s thigh when the Wraith finally realises he’s awake and greets him with a “Good morning, Cypher.”
Except he does and now he’s laying down, face flushed a dark burgundy and Omen is frozen above him, book closed and forgotten about to instead fully focus on the spy who’s desperately trying to hide his face further against his leg.
“Can we pretend you did not hear that, dearest?” Cypher mumbles out, voice muffled from where he’s pressed to Omen’s cool skin. It earns him a soft laugh, clawed fingers finding his head and coaxing him out of where he’s hiding, delicately moving his head so he’s looking up at Omen, eyes darting around and bottom lip worried between his teeth. Sasha is starting to wake up, ever the light sleeper, and he can feel the hunter press wet kisses to his nape, trying to will himself to open his eyes and see what his two lovers are laughing about.
“Why not?” Is Omen’s answer, fingers carding through his hair now that Cypher is looking at him. There’s nothing but patience oozing out of the Wraith and Cypher huffs, wetting his lips nervously. Sasha has opened his eyes, finally, told by how he’s practically half-covering Cypher with his body, trying to press a kiss to Omen’s leg without needing to untangle himself from Cypher.
“ Vse v poryadke? ”
Cypher laughs softly at how raspy the hunter’s voice is, angling his head back to press a soft kiss to his cheek where it’s peaking over him. Omen answers for him, nodding and leaning down to press his forehead against Sasha’s, “Da. On skazal mne svoye imya.”
He must’ve told Sasha about his slip up with his name because the hunter quickly looks at him, stars in his eyes, and oh to hell with his grand moment about revealing his name, if it makes them both happy to know it right now, then who is Aamir to deny either of them?
“You told him your name, moya lyubov’ ?” There’s a hand caressing his side, slipping under his shirt, warm skin against warm, pale against tanned and Sasha squeezes his hip, laughing softly, “And not me?” He doesn’t sound mad, just teasing, and Aamir snorts, hiding his face again, unable to deal with the love on either of their faces.
“You were asleep, dear. I did not mean to, I subconsciously corrected Omen when he called me Cypher, is all.” He feels two pairs of hands trying to move him out of his hiding but he resists this time, burying his face further between his pillow and Omen’s leg.
“Yes, but I am awake now, my love. Tell me?”
A huff. It’s not like he can say no to either of them- he's head over heels for them. “Aamir.”
Sova hums softly, kissing the back of his head, getting a mouthful of hair in exchange. He sputters and Omen laughs again, a deep, rumbly sound that tingles Aamir’s skin down to his bones. He hears them move around him, shuffling and soft words whispered between them before Omen is laying down with them, book put away and face to would-be face with Aamir if he could man up and get his face out of his pillow. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see them, but they look at him with such adoration that it overwhelms him sometimes, still not used to them being able to see his face freely without his mask.
In his head, the moment he told them his name would be while surrounded by flowers in a field, or maybe under the moon- perhaps while they're somewhere on a date. Instead, it's while sandwiched between them in their bed. Turns out that he doesn't need a big moment to surround his reveal- just being near Omen and Sasha is enough.
Omen wraps around him from his front, leg nudging against Sasha’s one that’s still between his own, somehow fitting his in the mess that their bodies are together. He moves closer, shadows tickling his neck and it dawns on him just how close to him the Wraith has gotten when he speaks and his voice is right against Cypher’s ear, deep and raspy and oh so attractive.
“Aamir.” Fuck. “Look at us, hm?” There are hands under his shirt, one cold despite how warm Aamir suddenly feels and one just as warm as him, both trailing soft touches on his chest, carefully avoiding the spots that are ticklish, passing over his nipples and revelling in Aamir’s soft gasps and huffs.
He finally does look at them when Sasha nips at his shoulder, blushing down to his neck. He isn't even given a second to breathe before he’s kissed by Omen, whose shadows are suddenly solid. All the while, Sasha is redoubling his efforts to nip and bite at his neck and shoulder, sucking harsh bruises into his skin before soothing them with a soft kiss, making the spy between them keen, neck tilting into the kiss to give him more space.
“ Khoroshiy mal'chik , Aamir, Good. ” Sasha moves his leg higher between Cypher’s own, pressing against his crotch, making him jump and moan into the kiss, back arching into Omen. “Pretty name for a pretty man, right Omen? So good for us.”
Cypher doesn’t know what to do with himself- the praise washes over him, warming him up, making his cock twitch in his sweats and he knows Omen and Sasha can both feel it, with how close to each other they all are. He’s trying his best not to writhe between them but he can’t help the way he’s pawing at Omen’s shirt, the fabric bunching up between his fingers. He hasn’t been touched like this- been in a situation where he’s desired like this- in so long he can’t help but be overwhelmed by the touches. He feels like he’s on fire, all of his nerve endings tingling at the same time between Omen’s cool touches and Sasha’s bruising bites. He’s so painfully hard in his pants he instinctively tries rutting against the legs between his, trying to relieve some of the ache between his legs.
Omen seems amused at his attempt of getting off, hands sliding down to help him with his movements, guiding him along to rut against Sasha’s thigh, “The prettiest. Do you feel good, Aamir? Using Sasha’s thigh like this.”
Does he feel good?
Aamir doesn’t feel anything but amazing. His hips are gliding along Sasha’s thigh, mouth opened to let out soft ah ah ah’s with every jerk, every twitch against his dick. He feels dazed, like he’s swimming in honey, hands grasping at anything they can from Omen’s clothing. He can’t do anything but nod at Omen’s question, letting out a startled gasp when he feels hands slip inside his pants, around his hips and against the wet precum stain on his underwear. Sasha is biting at his earlobe, gently tugging on it as he keeps his hand just shy of where Aamir really needs it.
“Is this okay, sweetheart?” Yes, he wants to say, anything you want, but the words are stuck in his throat, nothing but whines coming out. Omen grips his hips, keeping him still and Aamir shakes his head, fighting against the hold, hands covering Omen’s to try and dislodge his fingers. He wants to cum so badly- his thighs are trembling and his whole upper body feels flushed, most likely a dark red.
“ Please, ” he lets out, voice cracking on the last syllable, “ Please. ” He’s not sure what he’s pleading for but it’s a good thing he doesn’t have to think right now when Omen and Sasha are doing it for him. He’s answered with soft coos and reassurances, both men leaving soft kisses on his body, allowing him to fall back into the honey surrounding his mind, eyes slipping shut. They might not have ever done this before, at least not all three together (he’s walked in on Sasha going down on Omen more than once, and it’s always ended with him sputtering excuses and running away blushing) but he knows he’s in good hands, with how attentive they both are. Omen starts working on getting Aamir’s shirt off, while Sasha finally, finally moves his hand into his underwear, wrapping around his leaking cock and Aamir could cry with happiness. It’s all he wanted and more- some friction against his cock straining in his underwear and less fabric on all of them.
He almost does cry, if it wasn’t for the fact that Omen finally shimmies his shirt off, exposing his chest, vitiligo spots and scars in the open for them both to see. The cold touch of the Wraith’s hands on his skin shocks him back into his body, senses torn between focusing on Sasha’s touch or Omen’s. It took him a long time to be comfortable enough with them both to show his face, let alone his body, but they’ve both taken a liking to it, praising him and comforting him whenever he feels shy, always making sure that Aamir knows how much they love it.
Omen takes to biting and sucking his way around his nipples, humming softly whenever Aamir jerks and bucks in their hold. He makes it his mission to mark him up just as much as Sasha did before, enjoying the strangled moans and whimpers it earns him, along with the wet sound of Sasha fisting Aamir’s cock increasingly fast, not letting the spy go a second without stimulation. Omen doesn’t mind ignoring how hard he is in favour of taking care of his boyfriends, not when they’re both so beautiful together, Aamir having turned his head around to kiss Sasha, saliva mixing together. His own dick twitches in his pants at the sight of them. There are soft hands on his hood and he feels fingers tugging his mouth closer and the message is pretty clear. He might not be looking his way, but Aamir still gasps and twitches at the feeling of Omen moving up to his neck and going over the already-bruising nips the hunter previously left. He’s trying to mark him as much as possible, leaving teeth indents and hickeys on the tanned skin around Aamir’s nipples, the goal being for anyone else (who doesn’t already know- they haven’t been exactly subtle anymore since Aamir joined them, often pecking each other’s cheeks were other Agents could see) to know that Aamir is taken, off the fucking market, belongs to them now and no one else.
While he’s focused on his chest, Sasha’s pace is increasing and so are Aamir’s moans and gasps. He’s mumbling in Arabic, words that their very limited knowledge of the language can’t pick up, hips grinding and bucking onto Sasha’s thigh in tandem with his hand strokes. There’s a wet sound resonating in the room and Aamir realises it’s because of the sheer amount of precum his dick is leaking, making the slide of Sasha’s hand that much easier. They part from each other, ending a kiss that makes Aamir feel fuzzy and weak in his bones, both panting, both flushed down to their chest (Omen loves how they blush the same- first their face, then down to their collarbones, then their pecs; it makes him want to mark them both up) and they might not have done this with Aamir before but Omen can tell the other man is close, unable to help himself from teasing him about it.
“Already, Aamir? Does Sasha’s hand feel that good or are you just a quick shot?”
It’s a shot in the dark really, unsure if the spy will respond well to his teasing. Sasha has commented to him before that he can be somewhat mean with his teasing during sex, when he’s the one on top, but Omen just enjoys getting a rise out of Sasha when he’s balls deep into the hunter. He always apologises after, of course, even after the blond told him he was into it. He’s not usually like this, always making sure his words are to the point but not mean and yet there’s something about seeing Sasha (or Aamir, now) writhing under him that brings out a teasing streak in him. They’re opposites, him and Sasha, when it comes to sex. When on top, Sasha likes to praise yet edge and edge until his partner (or partners, in this case) are nothing more than soft, lax bodies for him to pleasure. He enjoys riling people up just to watch them crumble when he denies them pleasure for the hundredth time that night. He’d done it to Omen, once, who had lasted about two hours before he was babbling nothing but pleasepleaseplease and SashaSashaSasha , unable to think up even a simple sentence, surrendering his pleasure to Sasha who had finally made him cum hands free while whispering words that would make even the devil itself blush.
Omen? Omen likes to mock when topping . It’s the only time he really allows himself to be what someone could consider mean. Sure, he’s rough around the edges with everyone but during sex, he likes to poke at and tease his partners, while also going straight to the point, not beating around the bush and edging them. If anything, he enjoys overstimulating, bringing pleasure wave after pleasure wave to his lovers, getting off on their enjoyment.
They’re not fools, having realised quickly that Aamir responds insanely well to praise, but degradation? Teasing? He’s worried for a moment that it won’t go over well, but with how Aamir suddenly gasps, hands digging into the fabric around his head, giving a strong jerk against Sasha’s movements, Omen thinks he hit the bullseye.
“M’not a quick- Fffuck- shot, Omen, I’m not..” He sounds unsure even to himself, yet it’s the best he can do with Sasha’s hand and Omen’s mouth on him.
Omen laughs, a sharp, mocking one, mouth moving to Aamir’s earlobe, “You can wait, then, can’t you?” and it’s less a question and more of an order- one that Aamir understands, judging by the whiny, barely audible “Yes. ” the spy mumbles out.
Aamir feels like he’s in heaven. There’s a pleasant buzzing under his skin, his neck stings from his lovers’ rough treatment and Omen is playing with his nipples, cool skin a sharp contrast against his feverish one. He can’t keep his eyes open for more than a handful of seconds before Sasha is twisting his wrist just right again and he has to fight with himself not to spill all over the hunter’s pale hand. He barely registers when he’s being moved, tugged lower on the bed, Sasha rolling over him to settle between his legs, hand never stopping its movements. He’s gasping, drooling, moaning- hands reaching for anything they can touch; Omen’s hood, the bedsheets under him, Sasha’s blond locks, the hunter moaning softly when he accidentally pulls on them sharply. He’s vaguely aware that Omen has stopped touching him and of a quiet rustling of bedsheets and rummaging through drawers but he’s quickly forgetting about it when Sasha gives his cock a sharp tug, a dribble of precum spurting out of his flushed tip.
“ Raja’, Sasha, please, please -” He’s going to cum- the coil in his guts is starting to unfold, he feels the familiar pleasure washing over him, his thighs trembling and oh shit he’s going to cum-
Sasha circles the base of his dick and squeezes.
It’s painful, to the point that it jerks him out of his orgasm quickly and Aamir cries out, shaking his head, “No!- Sasha! ” There’s the familiar pulsing in his cock and yet nothing is coming out and he’s still painfully hard and he ruined it, Sasha actually ruined his orgasm- gave him a taste of what he could have and took it away at the last second. He feels tears immediately start to run down his cheeks, eyes wide open and looking at the grinning hunter between his legs. He looks proud of himself and Aamir wants to cry out because he had been so close and he’s been good this whole time, trying his best to listen, so why is Sasha being so mean to him?
“I’ve been good, Sasha, did everything you asked-” He’s cut off by his own shaky breath, hands coming up to his face to wipe his eyes softly. Sasha immediately shushes him, the sight of Aamir’s pretty eyelashes stained with tears coiling heat in his guts. He’s so pretty like this, desperate and crying, all because of Sasha. A singular pale hand gently nudges mismatched ones away, taking over to wipe stray tears, giving Aamir a second to breathe and recollect himself.
“Shhh, lyubimyy , you are doing so well for us, “ the hunter punctuates his sentence with a kiss to Aamir’s hip, teeth nipping at the skin on his hip bone, “You’re so good. Just a bit more my love, can you do that for me?”
He can’t, he swears he’s about to explode or turn into ashes from how warm he’s feeling and yet the blond is looking at him so sweetly, with nothing but love in the mismatched eyes and Aamir thinks that maybe he’s just being dramatic after all and he could do it, be good and listen to Sasha, let himself fall back into the pleasurable buzz he was so rudely yanked from and let his partners take care of everything. (Omen isn’t here, his mind supplies. Where did he go?)
His throat is dry and scratchy after drooling all of his saliva on the pillow under him and Aamir whines, shaking hands coming up to cup the hunter’s softly, interlacing their fingers. Sasha’s grip on the base of his cock doesn’t relent, fingers wrapped tightly, making sure Aamir understands he isn’t allowed to release yet- only when Sasha or Omen tells him he can. As much as he’s whining about it, there isn’t a shadow of a doubt, would he actually want to stop, that Sasha would immediately get off of him. He trusts them, so he resigns himself and tries to control his breathing and forget about the throbbing between his legs.
There’s something that’s still bothering him, though, and it’s the lack of another set of hands on him.
“ Whe’r ‘Men?” fuck he could kill for a glass of water. His tongue feels like lead in his mouth, heavy and cumbersome.
“What, my love?”
“ ‘miss him, Sasha. M’too hot.” And something clicks in the hunter’s head, rewarding him with the crooked smile Aamir loves to see on his lover’s face. He’s sitting up, then, hand completely off of Aamir’s weeping dick, forcing a soft whine at the loss, hips buckling slightly towards the retreating hand.
“Omen? He went to get some lube, moya lyubov’ , we have no more in the bedside drawer.” A kiss to his right hip, a kiss to his left, “Are you okay to keep going?”
Aamir nods, hands reaching out to grab at any part of Sasha he can reach. He ends up cradling his face, fingers delicately tracing his cheekbones and the curve of his nose. “M’okay.”
Omen walks back into his peripheral right then, hand wrapped around something. He says a couple of words to Sasha in Russian, Aamir not even bothering to try and see if there’s any he knows. He’s stuck between the floaty feeling he gets just before an orgasm and being down to earth, grounded by Sasha’s hands softly rubbing up and down his thighs, tracing the skin gently, like he’s made of porcelain. He only clocks back into the conversation when Omen settles next to him and Aamir instinctively buries his face into the Wraith’s skin, seeking something to cool him down a bit. It works wonders at soothing his flushed skin, wet lips leaving sloppy kisses wherever they can reach on his leg. He’s distracted enough by his current mission of cooling down his blush to miss the bottle being exchanged from a clawed hand to a pale one and Sasha sitting up, finally taking off his pants completely, throwing them on the ground. Only once does the hunter spill some of the cool liquid on his cock and down his taint does Aamir realise what he’s doing, a surprised noise escaping his lips, head quickly turning towards Sasha, seeing him rub some lube onto two of his fingers.
“Relax, Aamir, and take care of Omen, will you? He’s been so good with waiting,” and he has, hasn’t he? He’s taken such good care of Aamir, cooling him down and marking him up, he deserves to feel good too, Aamir decides.
There is soon not a singular piece of clothing found on neither of them, all stripped down to their skin. Aamir takes a moment, then, to appreciate his lovers. Omen’s glistening skin, tinted blue in some places, mostly a dark purple. The tip of his cock is leaking and a dark blue, most likely from the fact he hasn’t even touched it yet. He’s muscular, but not as much as Sasha, and the Moroccan takes a moment to run his nails up and down his chest, over his nipples and down his ribs, to the deep ‘v’ lines of his hips, fingers barely touching the edge of his dick before retreating and restarting their motion. Sasha is pale, a stark contrast to either of them, with Omen’s beautiful skin and his own tanned one. It doesn’t make him less attractive in their eyes, though. He has blond, almost white hair covering his body down to a trail that leads to a very pink, angry-looking cock. It’s girthier than his own, yet not as long as Omen’s and Aamir can’t wait to have both inside of him, no matter how.
Omen gets impatient, though, positioning himself so he’s kneeling with his knees on each side of Aamir, hard dick right in his face, beads of pre dripping down onto his face. The message is clear to the spy, who takes Omen first with his hands, giving a few experimental strokes up and down, watching as Omen’s thighs clench around him, trapping him under the Wraith securely. Safety and belonging coil into his guts and Aamir smiles widely at the Wraith, thumb pressing down onto the leaking head, observing how the length twitches and throbs between his fingers. Omen is soaked when Aamir is done with him, having spread his precum all over his length, making sure to properly coat him even though he’ll soon be in his mouth. Then, with his mouth, Aamir gets to suckling on the tip, tasting the flavour. There isn’t any, and maybe that has to do with the fact Omen isn’t completely human, but it doesn’t deter him from his task, his mouth soon moving to take more of the Wraith down his throat, relishing in the grunts and huffs he’s getting from above him. His mouth is quickly full, tongue doing it’s best to run along the sides of the length in his mouth and Omen chuckles, clawed fingers coming down with one hand resting on the bed above his head, the other fisting his curls, using his grip to manoeuvre Aamir deeper down on his cock. It’s heavenly, just how well Omen seems to fill up Aamir’s mouth, just the right weight and size for him to swallow down enthusiastically and still be able to somehow breathe. There’s a quick thought that pops into his head and tells him that his jaw will most likely be sore tomorrow, a reminder of their activity, and Aamir smiles as best as he can with his mouth obstructed, happy to know he’ll have a reminder on top of all of the hickeys and bites already littering his upper body.
“You look pleased with me down your throat, Aamir.” Omen’s voice is deeper than usual (Aamir didn’t even think that was possible) and it shoots a warm sensation down his body, right to his cock which is still being slicked up by Sasha before the hunter’s hands fall lower, a finger teasing at his entrance. It circles his rim, pushing a bit against it before retreating again and restarting the sequence. Circle, tease, leave.
“Do not be mean, Omen, he is being good.” The juxtaposition of Omen’s teasing and Sasha’s praise melts his brain into a puddle, able to do nothing but wiggle his hips and swallow around Omen who’s still somehow pushing deeper and deeper, now well down his throat. Aamir could bet that if he were to put a hand over it, he’d feel Omen’s cock moving back and forth inside of him.
The mental image almost makes him cum right then.
He sputters when Omen gives an experimental push and pull with his hips, Sasha pushing two fingers inside of him at that exact moment. It’s not like he’s never had…something, up there, it has just been a long while. He grunts softly around the length in his mouth, and Sasha coos, dripping more of the cold lube onto his hole, trying to ease his way in, “If you ever want to stop, my love, you tap either of us twice, alright?”
He tries nodding, only now managing to force himself all the way down Omen’s cock, nose flush with the Wraith’s skin, making him gag slightly. Clearly unable to speak, he raises, instead, a thumbs up to Sasha, hoping that it will be enough to satisfy the hunter and convey his willingness to be here, between the both of them. He only gets a second of respite, just enough time for Sasha to smile and whisper “ Good boy. ” with his fingers curling inside of him, trying to find his sweet spot, before Omen is dragging his head back and forth at an angle with the hand in his hair, pushing him up and down his length. Aamir is moaning and grunting up a storm, slobbering all over the girth in his mouth. There’s drool everywhere on his chin, which earns him yet another tease from one of the men responsible for his current state.
“You’re messy , Aamir. Are you not embarrassed? Drooling all over yourself like this.”
He wants to nod, to agree with whatever the Wraith says if it makes him stay using his mouth like this, like Aamir is nothing but a toy for him. He moves his tongue along the length, keeping pace with the thrusts, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The fingers in his ass curl and spread, stretching him out gently but efficiently, Sasha making sure he’s ready for more without any pain present. It’s a sight, seeing Aamir laid out in front of him, Omen fucking his mouth while letting out grunts and intelligible words, Aamir doing nothing but taking it, clearly enjoying the ride he’s on. Sasha can’t see his face, not with how Omen is blocking him, his back to him, but he knows the spy most likely looks blissed out, eyes glazed and drool all over his chest. For a second, he wishes he could see it, but he settles with seeing his fingers go in and out of his hole, which isn’t a bad sight in itself at all.
He’s a lot looser by now, his whole body gone lax and Sasha uses the opportunity to push another finger inside of him, scissoring him open with three, pressing and prodding to find the spot that makes him tick.
He knows he found it when Aamir gargles, hips bucking high off the bed, toes curling and hands grasping at Omen’s thighs, nails digging into the skin. He’s getting impossibly close again and he wants to beg, wants to plead and bargain for any release, any pressure on his cock, yet he can’t, not with how Omen is using his mouth, not with how Sasha quickly realises he’s close again and deliberately moves his fingers away from that spot, leaving Aamir to fuck himself back on his fingers, trying his best to angle them just right so he may feel that euphoria again. There’s a mocking laugh from above him but a sweet kiss against his tense thigh from below and his brain isn’t sure where to focus.
“Not yet, Milyy , I want you to cum with me inside of you, alright? You’re so good, doing so well with holding off, my love.”
Aamir doesn’t feel like he’s ‘doing so good’. Not with how tears are streaming down his face, Omen having pulled out of his mouth to let him breathe for a moment, try to ground himself. His exhalations are shaky and he’s breathing in way too quickly but the Wraith above him takes to gently raking his fingers up and down his scalp, helping him calm down. It’s the second time he’s been denied his orgasm and while Aamir isn’t religious anymore, not after all that he’s been through, he still picks a god and prays Sasha decides to finally fuck him into next year. Gentle fingers, way nicer than they were just a moment ago while guiding his head up and down Omen’s dark cock, wipe some of the tears that are streaming down his cheeks, shushing him softly when Aamir tries to form a sentence but clearly fails at it, tongue clumsy in his mouth.
“Remember, Aamir. Two taps and we will stop.” It’s nice of Omen to remind him with how fuzzy his head currently feels, yet if they were to stop now, Aamir thinks he’d start genuinely crying even more. He’s still so hard after all this time, the tip of his cock a couple of shades darker than the rest of him and what he wouldn’t give to finally be able to release.
His quiet prayers don’t go unheard, because soon Sasha gently pulls his fingers out and aligns himself instead, kneeling between Aamir’s legs which are wrapped around his waist, and sitting on his haunches. It takes a bit of adjusting him, Sasha tugging him closer easily, in a silent show of strength (which only serves to make Aamir even more horny, as impossible as that sounds), bringing his ass slightly up and onto his lap, the hunter’s cock flush against his ass. It means Omen has to adjust slightly, now kneeling above Aamir’s head, facing Sasha, giving the Wraith a brand new angle to fuck Aamir’s throat. It’s right there, bobbing above his head, tempting him and he quickly gives in, one of his hands wrapping around Omen’s dick. He gives one, two, three gentle strokes with his wrist before guiding it back into his mouth, tongue lapping at the tip like a parched man. It earns him a groan from Omen, who quickly goes along with it, clawed hands pinching and pulling at Aamir’s nipples while also holding his own body up , quickly lowering himself back down into the wet heat that is the spy’s mouth, soft grunts escaping his mouth.
Sasha decides to get on with it, too, and lubes himself up, giving his aching cock a couple of strokes and teasing Aamir’s hole by rubbing his tip against it, letting it almost press in before pulling away and stroking himself again. One of Aamir’s hands reaches down after Sasha does it for the second time and buries its nails into the skin of his forearm, trying to convey his feelings of ‘get the fuck on with it.’
Sasha laughs, clearly amused at how desperate Aamir has gotten from being edged twice. Who would’ve thought the sentinel would have so little patience when it comes to feeling good, a stark opposite to him on the field, waiting for lurkers to fall into his trips. He listens, though, not wanting Aamir to get fed up with them anytime soon, the head of his cock gently pushing in. There’s very little resistance, with how much Sasha stretched him and how floaty and lax Aamir feels, currently focused on swirling his tongue around Omen, taking him as deep as he can. It does earn him a loud moan from the Moroccan, though muffled from Omen’s cock, who in turns groans loudly at the added stimulation. They're all connected, somehow, and Sasha preens, inexplicable joy building into his guts at seeing both of his boyfriends happy and enjoying themselves with him. It makes him want to spoil them, take them under his wing and never let them leave, mark them up and brand them until everyone who ever comes across either of them knows that they’re off limits, lest they want a pissed off Sova to come after them.
The idea of marking Aamir up, more than he already is from the earlier assault against his neck from both Omen and himself, simmers in his head as he pushes deeper and deeper into the Moroccan, earning him moans and mewls from where his mouth is now connected to Omen’s stomach. God, is it a sight to see, Omen all the way down Aamir’s throat, clearly enjoying himself from the way his fingers are restless, scratching and gripping any part of Aamir’s skin and the loud grunts and groans he’s letting out. Aamir looks just as pleased under them, legs loose around Sasha, who’s bottomed out by now and is waiting for Aamir to adjust before fucking his brains out. His eyes are closed, irregular mewls and gargles getting punched out of his mouth as Omen fucks into it, hips gently slapping against his wet face. The sounds are downright filthy, only stopping when Omen pulls out to let Aamir catch his breath, quickly burying himself back into his throat whenever he can.
They make eye contact above him, Omen and Sasha, and the hunter smiles, leaning forward and detaching one of his hands from around Aamir’s hips to bring the Wraith closer, giving him a sloppy, wet kiss. Omen whimpers, actually whimpers when their lips connect, and Sasha knows what to do, how to handle Omen when he gets whiny and desperate to cum, when he’s no longer in a teasing mood and only thinks about his own pleasure, his release.
“Be good, Omen, and fuck Aamir just how he deserves, hm? Moi khoroshiye mal’chiki , you’re both so pretty , so handsome for me.” He punctuates his sentence with a sharp thrust of his hips, right into where he knows Aamir’s prostate is, granting him one hell of a reaction. Aamir’s heels are digging into his back, keeping him flush against his hole, legs tightening around the hunter’s hips. His eyes snapped open, teary gaze meeting Sasha’s with a pleading look, hands clenching the blanket under them, threatening to tear it from how hard he’s pulling on it. The hunter decides to go easy on him, and give him what he so desperately wants. Soon, he starts getting into a rhythm, hands back to Aamir’s hips, using them to pull the spy against his quick thrusts which in return jerks him against Omen, moving his mouth up and down the length.
They’re all quick to lose themselves in the rhythm, the sounds of skin slapping against skin and wet, squelching noises resonating in the room. Aamir is non stop whimpering and moaning at the constant press against his prostate. Where does he begin and where does he end? All he can feel is immense pleasure building into his guts, tingling around his whole body. He feels the sparks of arousal quickly igniting a fire throughout his whole body and he hopes Sasha will finally let him cum. Omen must be getting close too, because his movements are getting sloppy in Aamir’s mouth, hips stuttering against him multiple times. His chest is nothing but fire, marks raked into his skin from sharp claws, small beads of blood welling to the surface and Aamir, even without seeing them, decides that he likes them more than his scars and hopes the streaks mark his skin for days after this. If not, he might just need to ask Omen to remake them again.
“Want Omen to cum down your- shit- throat, baby? Hm? Want- hng- him to claim your mouth? All ours, Aamir, just ours.” It’s filthy , how Sasha speaks to them, yet it only serves to make Aamir’s cock throb on his stomach, untouched since earlier, when Sasha slicked him up. It’s red and pulsing after being ignored and denied for so long, bobbing back and forth from the thrusts against his prostate and down his throat. He’s unable to nod, not with how Omen’s hands have migrated to his cheeks, holding him still as his hips fuck against his face, grunting an groaning loudly, shadows fluid and floating around him as the Wraith loses himself into pleasure, chasing his orgasm with Aamir’s willing mouth.
The spy answers by sneaking his arms around Omen’s legs, grabbing a handful of his ass and pushing him to stay still, flush against him, way down his throat, so deep he knows there’s a tent in his throat from his cock. Aamir swallows around Omen’s cock, one hand reaching to his throat and pressing against the bulge there and the Wraith is a goner, a strangled moan punching out of his lungs before hot, heavy cum shoots down into Aamir. Just like his cock, it has no particular taste and yet Aamir happily swallows all of it, working his tongue around Omen’s softening member, wanting to keep it in his mouth for as long as he possibly can. Sasha doesn’t let up. If anything, he speeds his movements up, slamming back against Aamir, angled perfectly against his prostate, moaning softly when the spy tightens against him each time, hands for sure leaving finger-shaped bruises on his hips with how hard he’s holding them.
“You can cum, Aamir, but no t-touching. I want you to- Aaahh- cum by yourself, okay?” Sasha sounds a lot more out of breath than earlier, barely able to stutter his sentence out before Aamir tightens around him, earning a loud curse and nails digging into his skin. He wants to reach down and stroke himself so badly, his cock giving a soft twitch at the thought and yet he won’t, because he’s good and he knows how to listen to Sasha. Instead, he focuses on the way Sasha sits up, stopping his movements to readjust them before starting his brutal pace again, pulling Aamir and fucking him against the movement, beads of sweat coming down his throat.
Aamir feels it, then, the ambers catching on fire, quickly spreading throughout his body, taking him over the edge. He cums with a gargled moan, untouched, eyes rolling back into his head. He feels his cock throb, his orgasm feeling endless and crashing over him in massive waves, threatening to take him under. He’s vaguely aware of Omen finally pulling out of his mouth to let him take deep gulps of air, his own spend reaching up to his neck with how hard his orgasm hit. Sasha doesn’t still, chasing after his own orgasm with Aamir’s pliant body. He’s mumbling praise, nails digging into his hips, mismatched eyes focused on the way his cock looks like going in and out of Aamir’s pretty hole, stretched so nicely around him.
He feels his orgasm build in his guts, a thin layer of sweat covering his whole body. Omen is back to laying down next to Aamir, swallowing down his whimpers of overstimulation with a sloppy kiss, saliva and cum being exchanged between them. The sight alone makes his hips stutter, choked off moans escaping his clenched jaw.
“ Inside ?” Is all he can say, Aamir answering with a nod and a weak “Please” , eyes still foggy and glazed over. He seems in another world and yet he smiles at Sasha, the one he rarely does, where all his perfectly crooked teeth are on display and his eyes scrunch up and fuck it’s all it takes to bring him over, hips hips slamming one last time against him before he rests them there, pumping him full of his cum.
The previous idea of marking up Aamir comes back into the forefront of his mind and Sasha purrs happily, bending down to bite and suck around Aamir’s collarbones, giving him a sharp nip and digging his tongue against the claw marks on his chest. It’s a bit mean of him, considering that they most likely already sting, but Sasha is overwhelmed with the idea of marking him, since Omen’s skin doesn’t take well to bruises. His hips stutter one last time against Aamir, pushing his cock deep into the Moroccan before he pulls out, panting. There’s a moment of stillness, in which Omen keeps kissing and whispering sweet words both in English and Russian (Sasha’s heart soars at the sound of his mother tongue being spoken by his lover in such an intimate moment), bringing him back down to them gently. Sasha smiles, his legs feeling like jelly. He has to clean them up, though, so he stands, shushing Aamir softly when he whines at the loss of his body against his, “I need to clean us up, my love. I will be back, do not worry.”
It doesn’t take him long to gather a couple of wet, warm rags, a tall glass of water and ointment for Aamir’s skin from the adjacent bathroom. He comes back to Aamir being tucked against Omen, gentle hands in his hair, messing with the curls. His heart grows warm, along with his cheeks, and Sasha coos, settling himself beside the both of them. Aamir seems already gone, fast asleep against Omen, who perks up after seeing him, sitting up straighter.
“He wanted to stay awake until you came back, but we wore him down.” Omen, who already has a raspy, deep voice, sounds even more wrecked. It makes Sasha chuckle while gently cleaning both of them up, softly dragging the wet rags on their bodies and applying the ointment to Aamir’s body. “That’s cute. He did so well, taking both of us, even for his first time. I’ll have to get him some of that tea he likes, as a reward, although I do wish he would’ve drank some water before falling asleep.” He must be pretty exhausted, since Aamir doesn’t even stir when Sasha cleans between his cheeks carefully.
Omen nods, beckoning Sasha closer. They take the same position as earlier this morning, Aamir sandwiched between the two of them, “You say that, yet do you know the price it costs?” The Wraith sounds amused, and Sasha shakes his head, pressing a soft kiss against Aamir’s back, “How much, dear?”
“600 credits a box.”
“ Blyat, eto bezumiye !” There’s a sharp shhh! From Omen. His next words are barely above a whisper, “ For tea?”
Omen snorts, nodding softly, “Mhm.”
Sasha groans, giving a sleeping Aamir a soft kiss on the cheek, “You’re lucky I love you so much, Aamir.”
“What about me, Sasha?”
“ Of course I love you too, Omen.”
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