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Remy wasn’t proud of the writhing, much less the whining (that only half the time caught in his throat), but he found his pride to be of little importance when he had Malekh’s arms wrapped around him from behind, holding him in place at the edge of the bed, and Xiaodan taking him apart from below with the featherlight touch of her tongue.
He’d been trained to withstand torture, sure, had survived it first hand with a smug expression and blood on his face, but nothing could have prepared him for torture of this variety.
“Xiaodan, please-“
She hummed thoughtfully, velvet lips wrapped around his tip and making him shudder, before looking up from beneath her lashes, though not at Remy.
“What do you think, Zidan? Should we have mercy on our sweet Remington?”
‘Sweet Remington’ glared back at her, knowing full well that any question of mercy directed at Malekh (at least in the bedroom) would be flatly rejected. The mischievous look in her gray eyes suggested she knew the same.
“He can take it,”Malekh murmured, the words close enough to feel. Then the vampire leaned in further and brushed his lips against his ear. “Can’t you, pet?”
Remy flushed and wanted to punch something.
“I am not your- your-“ he snapped, stopping short at the degrading endearment in question. Malekh hadn’t called him ‘pet’ since the first time they sparred, and he hadn’t said it loud enough for Xiaodan to hear just now. Remy didn’t want to equip her with the same ammunition, not when he couldn’t tell whether the somersault in his gut was attributable to Malekh acknowledging his strength, murmuring in his ear, or calling him… that.
He was saved from trying to finish his sentence when the Summer Lord cut him off with a hand around his throat. “Careful, Armiger. You agreed to behave. No ‘bitching’ like you usually do. That was the deal, remember?”
Curse Remy and his penchant for issuing challenges he couldn’t win.
“Hah… might have more success with that if my mouth was better occupied,” he rasped out, aiming a look at Xiaodan.
She turned her face away briefly as it warmed, then seemed to steady herself. “As tempting as that is… with what we have in mind tonight-“ she squeezed his thighs where she had them spread, eyeing everything that lay between “-we’d best leave your mouth free to call ‘white flag’ if needed.”
And then she was looking at him in a way that reminded Remy how deadly a predator she could be, the smile never leaving her face.
“Oh.”
“Scared, Pendergast?” came Malekh, seeming to relish the thought.
“No,” he lied, squirming slightly.
“Excited then?”
Remy was certain the pulse racing faster beneath Malekh’s teasing mouth could speak for itself. He felt the vampire’s thumb stroke along his throat and almost whimpered.
“Do you truly want this?” Malekh asked softly, and his sincerity gave Remy the grace to match it.
“Yes,” he breathed. Eyes falling shut, baring his neck in offering, he added a quiet “please.”
Remy felt a fresh wave of heat where Malekh’s clothed form met his bare skin. Then came the familiar, searing pain. First at the base of his neck. Then in the soft of his thigh. He melted under them, heady relief and wanton desperation washing through him like a bloodwaker, and soon enough that voice in his head - the one that forbade weakness, sounding half like his father and half like himself in his darkest moments - succumbed to the deafening pleasure.
Nowhere else could he feel so exposed, so defenseless, and so at ease as he did with them.
A few hazy minutes passed, and then he felt his face being pulled to the side. Someone kissing him. Malekh kissing him, with all the gentleness of a starving wolf. Remy could taste his own blood, still warm on Malekh’s tongue, but like fine wine he craved the aged variety. He returned the kiss in equal fervor, biting hard at the vampire’s lip in hopes of drinking him, but the lord was too fast. Gripping the sides of Remy’s jaw, pressure enough to pry it open, he spoke with practiced authority: “Not yet,” and then he mouthed a third word - a rhyming word - that word - just to study the resulting micro-expressions that passed over Remy’s face.
Except with his guard down, they didn’t feel so micro. It was affecting him in a way that the occasional “good boy” from Giselle never had (though granted she had little affect on him to begin with). He felt lightheaded and hot and fuck, Light help him… he’d rather bleed out than admit it but he liked being called pet.
Malekh released him with that telltale tilt to his mouth, seemingly pleased with the results of his latest experiment, but without further explanation, he nudged Remy off his lap to leave the bed.
“Where are you-”
“Think you can handle him for a moment, dear?”
Remy frowned at the sudden abandonment, but Xiaodan quickly swooped in to smother it, or smother him, rather. Her dark hair fell like a curtain around them as she pushed him back into the bed and followed in the same movement, sighing into their kiss with a sound that made him throb.
Her robe had fallen away, and Remy pulled her closer, clinging to her warmth, her softness. How lucky was he to have the sun herself, in such a lovely form, when blood loss left him shivering.
Not lucky enough, apparently, because he only managed one roll of his hips before she sat up to firmly hold them down.
“Patience,” she whispered as he groaned. Xiaodan then glanced over her shoulder, where he couldn’t see but assumed Malekh was lurking, before looking back at Remy with a knowing smile that made him sweat.
If he pulls out a syringe or collar I swear to Light-
“Do you want to feed from me, Remy?
His attention snapped back into focus.
“Yes.”
Her fingers found his, guided them to the heat between her legs, never looking away. “Show me how badly you want to.”
Remy swore silently in reverence, never truly prepared for how heavenly, how inviting she felt here. She shuddered at his touch and kept his hand pressed against her as she keened and ground against him, eyes fluttering for a moment before she seemed to remember herself. With gentle but unwavering control, the vampire moved to lay back beside him and pulled Remy towards her. He lay on his side, wrapped in one of her arms and burying his fingers inside her with a steadily growing desperation that found its way past his lips.
“Please, Xiaodan,” he pleaded into her neck. “I want to taste you so badly. I need your blood. Please.”
And then he could smell it.
Remy’s head shot up and found the fragrant source pooling at a deep cut beneath her collarbone, but her unbloodied hand caught him by the hair and made him wait.
The blood dipped toward her chest.
His fingers sped.
Her breath caught.
It flowed across her scar.
She clenched around him, and with an airy moan, released.
Remy wasted no time or blood, sweeping his tongue up her chest and savoring the taste of her. He always seemed to drift when he fed, and this time was no different. He couldn’t recall when Malekh returned, only registering the press of his hands on Remy’s hips, the stilling of his subconscious efforts to rut against Xiaodan, and the gentle strokes along his backside, his ass, his legs.
Malekh’s touch felt nice, Xiaodan’s blood tasted nice. Sure, they weren’t letting him get off easy, but it made Remy wonder, in the back of his blood-drunk mind, what all the ‘white flag’ talk had been about - until an oiled finger pressed against uncharted territory.
Remy jolted slightly, but his lovers seemed prepared for that, handling him almost like a spooked horse (which in itself was mortifying).
“Easy, Pendergast,” Malekh placed a hand on his back. “You trust me, do you not?”
The reflexive retort Remy would have given in almost any other situation was escaping him now. He was coherent enough, but the blood sharing and arousal and Xiaodan’s whispered reassurances were putting a damper on his defensive bullshit. That, and with every passing second, the growing realization of what was about to happen sent a hot flush further down his chest and back.
“I- yes,” he relented, voice small but sure. “Okay.”
There was no point feigning resistance. Remy wanted Malekh to fuck him, had thought about it more than once since that night in Brushfen, and knew if he didn’t allow it now, he’d likely never have the balls to ask for it later.
What he didn’t know was how bloody long it would take.
Xiaodan helped distract him through the preparation, stroking his hair as he fed a bit longer and kissing him when she reached her limit. All the while Malekh eased him open from behind, stretching him slowly with one finger before finally adding a second.
Remy groaned into the chest beneath him, trying to relax and think about how fantastic it would be if you could alternate between having a cock or cunt at will instead of how painfully thick Malekh was going to be in his tight fucking ass.
“You’re doing well,” Xiaodan assured him.
“Yeah, well I can’t say the same about Malekh.” Apparently his bullshit was back. “Isn’t this supposed to feel g-”
Remy let out a strangled sound as the vampire curled his fingers, the feeling like a burst of Elke’s lightning through him.
“I can’t stretch you properly if you’re writhing like a whore."
“Boys.” Remy couldn’t see her face, content with hiding in her breasts, but he knew a Xiaodan warning scowl when he heard one. “No bickering. We’re supposed to be enjoying ourselves, remember?”
“Oh, I believe he’s enjoying it just fine…” Remy also knew Malekh’s warning smirk, and this one was hushed and laced with trouble, closing in at an intimate distance. With one hand still fingering his ass, the vampire forced Remy’s head up, making no effort to lower his voice. “Aren’t you, pet?”
Another unwanted dose of arousal hit him, this time forcing a pitiful moan past his lips, but not without a half-hearted “fuck you” to follow.
“Mm… perhaps someday.”
Remy missed the implications there, too caught up in what Xiaodan had just witnessed and too chickenshit to look at her and gauge how far he’d fallen in her eyes. But then he felt her hands cup his face, holding it up in place of Malekh, and when his eyes peered open, he found no disgust on her features, no belittlement, just a fond look of delight and curiosity.
With a tendency to expect the worst in people, his lovers never failed to surprise him.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Fine.” It wasn’t a lie, just a reflex response, but when Xiaodan raised an unsatisfied eyebrow, Remy paused to truly take stock. “I guess I’m getting a little uncomfortable in this position,” he admitted and then, less seriously “and my dick might fall off if no one touches it soon.”
“Oh, is that so?” she giggled, already shifting to adjust them. Malekh followed in wordless harmony and Remy bit back a whimper when his fingers left him. As he stretched his limbs, he quickly found his attention torn between the woman propping pillows beneath her hips in front of him, forming a pedestal for her shining cunt, and the man standing aside the dresser, looking their way as he removed the rest of his clothes, slicked his cock with oil, and wiped his hands clean. There was a controlled slowness to his actions that seemed at odds with the heaviness of his breath and blatant hunger in his stare. Remy swallowed.
“Come here, pet.” He looked back at a blushing Xiaodan, who seemed as nearly affected speaking the words as he did hearing them, ushering him closer with the curl of her finger and wrapping her legs around his waist. Remy shuddered when his cock brushed against her curls.
“Can I?” he asked, a bit breathless.
“One condition,” she smiled. “No moving.”
Remy swore silently but didn’t hesitate to push inside. He let out a breath as the cool, oppressive air gave way to pliant flesh, warm and wet and warmer still.
“Shit- are you…?”
Her smile deepened, confirmation shown in the slowly pulsing glow beneath her skin. She was edging him with waves of her own preternatural warmth.
“Remind me to finalize my will before our next tryst… I feel I’ll be needing it.”
Malekh’s voice came from behind him: “I’m surprised someone with such a relentless death wish as you wouldn’t have done so already.”
Remy’s retort was muffled, then forgotten all together, as Malekh shoved two fingers (presumably ones not recently stuffed up his ass) into his mouth and let him feed from their blood-pricked tips.
He drank and sank easily back into submission, let the fingers hook over his teeth to drag him lower, settled on his hands and knees over Xiaodan.
Remy’s cock twitched inside her as Malekh’s length rubbed between his cheeks.
He panted around the vampire’s fingers, every exhale a stuttered groan, as Zidan slowly pressed inside him with a murmur of “that’s it… take me deeper,” sounding barely composed himself.
And then, for a brief moment of respite, they were simply joined. The three of them, sighing contentedly with Remy in the middle feeling all the world like a man who’d conquered Hell and stumbled into Heaven.
Small hands brushed through his hair and interlaced their fingers. Large hands slid the bloodied fingers from his mouth and gripped his hips.
“Don’t go easy on me, Malekh.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Remy didn’t know how many tiles covered the bedroom ceiling. For a heady moment, he didn’t even know his own name. All he knew was Malekh thrusting into him, thrusting him into Xiaodan, and their blood coursing through him.
Too tangible to be a dream, too fortunate to be reality, Remy fell into the sheets afterward with a sated bliss that slowly settled into familiar fear.
He wasn’t a religious man, but he said a silent prayer to the Three of Light for the tangle of bodies in that bed, the three of blood and lust and possibly love.
If harm should come to everything I touch... please, let them be the exception.