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It’s late in the evening when Dante hears a knock at his door, the sunset throwing golden light across the floor.
“Sun Lord Dante, may I come in? I’d like to speak with you.” It’s Father Olivine’s voice that penetrates the thick wooden door to Dante’s room.
“Enter,” Dante replies, voice brusque.
Once he’s entered and closed the door behind himself, Olivine gives a wan smile in greeting.
“I want to apologize for the other night. My behavior was improper, and I’m sorry you had to witness it.”
Right to business, then.
Improper is putting it mildly, Dante thinks to himself. The incident to which Olivine is referring had happened only two nights earlier, and the memory is still crystal clear. Dante had been restless as he tried to fall asleep, and, resolved to at least make his time productive, had decided to read over some treaty documents that required his attention in the mansion’s library. While he admittedly had heard some muffled voices while walking through the halls, it was late, and pleasured vocalizations were only to be expected (much to his eternal chagrin). What he had not expected, however, was that he would discover the source of those voices when he opened the door to the library.
The first thing Dante saw was Eiden, his shirt off and pants loose around his hips, his back facing the door. A pair of legs were wrapped around his waist, and hands clutched tightly to his shoulders; when Dante’s eyes made it all the way up the depraved display, he was startled to meet the soft, blissed-out gaze of Father Olivine, who was propped up on a table for stability while Eiden thrusted into him. The moment their eyes met, Olivine sucked in a sharp gasp of air, eyes widening as he shuddered, moans reaching a fever pitch as he climaxed.
Just as quickly as he had entered, Dante slammed the door shut, storming back to his room. His heart was racing at what he had witnessed, and the sight of Eiden and Olivine tangled together flashed through his mind every time he tried to close his eyes. He got little, if any, sleep that night.
With all of that in mind, Dante had been torn between expecting this very apology, and hoping neither of them would ever mention the incident. The image of the two of them, moaning into each other’s ears and flushed all over had been burned into his memory, and they should be sorry for their lack of discretion. But at the same time, Dante finds himself wanting to simply forget the entire incident, including how quickly his pants grew tight when he stumbled upon the sordid scene. Try as he might, he hasn’t been able to wipe that moment from his mind, and it’s been driving him to distraction, particularly while in the presence of a certain priest.
Before Dante can speak, he needs to center himself, squaring his broad shoulders and drawing up some of his regal bearing as he looks down at Olivine.
“It’s not as though you were acting alone, yet I haven’t heard any apology from Eiden. Nonetheless, you shouldn’t have let his vulgarity persuade you into doing something so… improper, as you said.”
“I’m sure Eiden is very sorry for what happened as well,” Olivine offers.
Dante can’t hold back a snort. Eiden? Sorry for acting obscenely? Not in a million years.
“That aside,” Olivine continues, “you may have misunderstood. He shouldn’t shoulder the blame when I was truly at fault. The only reason we did that in the library was because Eiden was trying to please me.” Olivine has his hands clasped together in front of himself in what is probably the most closed off gesture Dante has ever seen him make. The priest is usually so open to whoever and whatever may demand his attention. It doesn’t suit him.
“What could possibly be so… pleasing about the library?”
Olivine pauses, carefully considering his words. “It’s not the library itself, but the lack of privacy. The knowledge that someone may see is… exciting to me. Eiden only wanted to indulge me, so if you need to place blame upon someone, I will accept it.” Olivine does look properly penitent as he speaks, his head tilted down and shoulders slightly hunched. His cheeks are also beginning to grow pink with embarrassment, and Dante finds a bit of comfort in the fact that at the very least, he knows some measure of shame. Regardless, he can’t go easy on Olivine now.
“If what you say is true, then you mean to say that this was no accident, and that my involvement in your scheme was intentional?”
“No, that isn’t the case at all! It wasn’t—we weren’t actually expecting anyone to enter the library, it was the middle of the night. I would never want to involve someone else against their wishes. My actions were careless, but I would never intend to inflict this on you without prior discussion.” When Olivine looks back up to meet Dante’s gaze, there’s a surprising steeliness in his eyes. Even in a situation as absurd as this, there’s something Dante begrudgingly admires about the show of resolve.
However, Dante can’t help but notice that nowhere in his apology has there been any promise that they won’t do this again. But, try as he might, he can’t find any anger towards the priest welling up inside himself like there would be if he were having this conversation with Eiden. Instead, there’s just an overwhelming sense that he’d like to end this conversation as soon as possible.
“Fine. I forgive you for the transgression, so there’s no need for you to continue apologizing.” There’s an attempt to inject finality into the words, and Dante hopes Olivine will take them for the dismissal that they are. The sooner he can put this whole event out of his mind, the better.
“I understand, but I’ve clearly upset you. If there’s something you need, you can talk to me-”
“Was I not clear?” Dante cuts in. “I can handle myself.” There’s a dark edge to Dante’s words that would’ve made most flinch, but Olivine stands firm. When he speaks, though, his voice is almost unbearably gentle.
“I believe that you can. But, I also worry that you’ll continue to feel uncomfortable around me if you don’t voice your concerns. Everyone loves when you come to visit, and I would hate if you felt the need to stay away because of this.”
“How often I visit is none of your concern. You have a high estimation of your own importance if you think an altercation with you is enough to drive me away.”
“Oh that’s… I suppose you’re right, I shouldn’t assume. Then, I suppose I should simply say what I mean; I don’t want you to dislike me, so I’d like to earn your forgiveness. If you would truly prefer to never speak of this, I can accept that, but if not, please know that you can talk with me rather than let it trouble you alone.”
Olivine’s earnest tone gives Dante pause. As easy as it would be for him to continue shutting Olivine down, there is a question that’s been lingering in the back of his mind. Once he has his answer, he’s sure he’ll be able to move on like this never happened.
“When I entered the library, you… finished. Why?” Dante chokes out the question haltingly, like it hurts to do so, and attempts to force down the flustered blush that’s beginning to warm his cheeks. He watches Olivine take a deep breath, visibly collecting his thoughts before he answers.
“I couldn’t help it, once I saw you. It was… thrilling, feeling your gaze on me while I was—um. In such a state.” As Olivine describes that night, his expression grows soft, all enamored and gooey. Dante can only stare and wait for him to continue. “Eiden had been telling me that someone could come in, and that once they saw me, t-they would want to, ah, join us. So, when you actually did walk in, I couldn’t hold back.”
“It pleases you, for others to see you making such wanton expressions?” Dante asks, his brows furrowing.
In response to Dante’s question, Olivine makes an odd, stifled sound in his throat, turning his gaze down at the floor between them. Dante looks down too, unsure what he’s looking at. There’s nothing on the floor, but what he does notice is an unseemly bulge in Olivine’s pants.
“Are you really so shameless that recounting all of this has you reacting this way?” Dante intends for the question to come out sharp and accusatory, but he can hear that his voice is a little too strangled to pull it off.
All of this is completely alien to Dante. If his perception of Olivine had shifted when he saw him in the library, this is turning his understanding of the man completely on its head. The sight of the priest so red-faced and pathetic should repulse Dante, he knows this, but he can feel his blood rushing south the longer their conversation goes on. Humiliation washes through him in a hot wave at his own reaction.
“Ah, that’s—please don’t ask me that.” Olivine is looking everywhere but at Dante, tensed up like he’s considering fleeing. His earlier resolve has melted away under Dante’s scrutiny.
“You insisted we talk about this, and yet you refuse to answer me?”
Olivine doesn’t answer him.
If words aren’t serving their purpose, Dante has no choice but to escalate to physical intimidation. Surging forward into Olivine’s space, he grabs the front of his vestments, leaning in to loom over him, glare fixed firmly on his face. His expression cracks a bit when he feels something clenched in his fist that doesn’t feel like fabric, as though Olivine has something under his robes. Whatever it is, it’s pulled taught as Dante clenches his fist, drawing a yelp out of Olivine.
“Ah, Dante! It hurts…” he squeaks, a pink flush creeping onto his cheeks.
To Dante’s immense surprise, instead of trying to escape, Olivine leans closer, and Dante’s closed fist sinks into the plushness of his chest.
Dante pulls his hand back fast, as if he’d been burnt.
He feels like a clumsy child stumbling his way through… whatever this is. Discomfort prickles over his skin as he can only watch things spin further and further out of his control.
The feeling isn’t aided by the observation that strikes him next: he has to admit to himself that Olivine is… attractive. While Dante wouldn’t normally have time to stand around and ponder Olivine’s body, it would be harder to not notice when it’s practically pressed up against his own. He would never agree with Eiden’s horny musings out loud, but his effusive praise of Olivine’s features was not exaggerated. The priest’s narrow waist accentuated by the swell of his surprising musculature made for an appealing figure. As much as he may try to ignore it, Olivine’s presence is not helping him calm his burgeoning arousal.
At this point, Dante figures that he has two options available. The first is to completely shut down this entire situation, order Olivine to leave his room now, and to pretend none of this happened. The second idea is harder to think about, like he can’t even allow himself to imagine it, and it nearly slips away entirely before he can force it into a real shape. His other option, he concludes, is to let Olivine stay. With him. And see where this is all going.
The decision is made much easier when Olivine looks up at him through long eyelashes and, in between delicate puffs of breath, lets a soft “please,” fall from his lips.
“What are you… please what?” Dante works very hard to remain stoic and keep the bewilderment he’s experiencing out of his voice. Even he can hear that he’s not succeeding.
“Don’t make me say it,” Olivine pleads, dropping his head onto Dante’s shoulder. His hair tickles against the skin of Dante’s neck.
“How am I supposed to do anything for you if you refuse to say what you want?” Dante grumbles.
To Dante’s surprise, this elicits a shiver from Olivine, who, for reasons that Dante cannot even begin to fathom, presses himself even closer.
“T-touch me. Please, don’t leave me like this…” Olivine’s heated whisper sends a thrill down Dante’s spine. But the request brings Dante’s attention to his own hands, which are currently hanging at his sides, limp and uncertain. He can’t believe himself when he feels the urge to do as Olivine asks, but the rational part of him is becoming harder and harder to listen to over the sound of Olivine begging for him.
At this point, he figures, things like reason and restraint have long since exited this conversation anyways. Better to give in and see this through to the end than try to change course now. It’s an entirely rational conclusion, he tells himself.
So, he lifts his hands, which are most certainly not shaking, up to lay them upon the broad plane of Olivine’s back. He attempts something of a soothing motion as he rubs over his back, though he can tell his hands’ movements are stiffer and more awkward than he’d like. Either Olivine doesn’t notice or is too polite to point this out, since he seems to settle a bit under Dante’s hands.
Dante has seen Olivine in combat, demolishing enemies with the full force of his magical skill; he can be impressively fierce, even while wearing a serene smile. But Dante would never have guessed that was the same man as the one currently whining into the side of his neck, red-faced and desperate. He slumps more of his weight onto Dante, and he’s surprisingly heavy, but it’s not unpleasant.
Keeping a steadying hand on Olivine, Dante walks both of them back until he can feel his bed against the backs of his knees.
“Sit down,” Dante instructs, waits for Olivine to do so, then takes a seat himself. Nearly as soon as they’re both sitting, Olivine curls his body into Dante’s side like a cat following the warmth of a sunbeam.
Olivine’s demeanor leaves Dante at a bit of a loss. He’s used to overcoming challenges at every turn, to bickering with Eiden over everything, but easy acquiescence? He’s not sure what to do with it. All of the fight goes out of him, as though the burning fire in his core has banked enough to be entirely out of reach.
Even with all of the physical contact between them, they’ve still not touched skin to skin at all. They’re both completely covered, and Dante can see sweat beginning to bead at Olivine’s hairline.
“Are you overheating?” he asks, curling a finger under Olivine’s chin to tilt his head up, their eyes meeting.
“What? Um, it’s not that hot, I’ll be alright.” Olivine looks caught off guard by the question, his eyebrows scrunching a bit.
“I don’t believe you. Strip.”
“Sun Lord Dante?!”
“Your face is flushed and you’ve started to sweat. I won’t have you passing out here.” Dante’s not exactly being forthright with his reasoning, he knows full well why Olivine’s all red, but he intends to spare them both by skirting the truth.
“It’s not nearly that severe, it’s merely—ah, embarrassment.”
So much for that.
“Fine, suit yourself.” Dante frowns and turns away.
Olivine pauses, studying the side of Dante’s face. “If you’d like me to undress, you can just ask.”
Dante doesn’t dignify that with a response.
“But, it wouldn’t be fair if I’m the only one getting undressed, would it?”
At that, Dante’s head whips back around, mouth hanging open as he meets Olivine’s eyes again.
“That’s—fine. I have no shame in my own body,” Dante fires back, sounding more defensive than he’d like. Nodding in agreement, Olivine extricates himself and begins fiddling with the fastenings to his robes.
In the interest of being polite, Dante stands and turns away to begin efficiently undressing himself. He neatly folds his shawl before moving on to the rest of his clothes. When he’s down to his undergarments, he pauses. Obviously, if he and Olivine are to… get intimate, he will need to expose himself, but getting completely nude still feels presumptuous, somehow. Luckily for him, his concerns are completely swept away when he glances over his shoulder at Olivine, and all thoughts of propriety are wiped from his mind.
In theory, Dante was certainly aware of Olivine’s nipple piercings. Between crude comments from Eiden and brief, cursory glances in the mansion’s communal baths, he knew they existed. However, none of that knowledge could’ve prepared him to see Olivine’s bare chest right in front of him, body wrapped in ornate gold chains that drape down from his piercings to connect with his gemstone. The whole assortment is beautiful, honestly, the last warm rays of evening sunlight glimmering off of the gold and making the teardrop gems hanging from each of his nipples shine.
Oh, some distant corner of Dante’s brain realizes, the chain. That’s what he grabbed under his robe earlier.
As Dante ogles his accessories, Olivine takes his seat once more, leaning back on his palms as if trying to accentuate his chest even further. It’s a good look for him, all soft and relaxed as he reclines on Dante’s bed. Not one to be left behind, Dante finishes removing the last of his clothing and joins Olivine on the bed.
With the barrier of their clothing gone, Dante sees no reason to hesitate now. The heady scent of their essence mingling in the air around them makes Dante feel nearly lightheaded, and, based on Olivine’s half-lidded expression, it’s affecting him too. Dante threads his fingers through the hair at the nape of Olivine’s neck before tightening his grip into a sharp tug. When this causes Olivine to tip his head back, his jaw dropping open in a panting gasp, Dante strikes—he chases that mouth with his own, pressing in for a forceful kiss, slipping his tongue between those plush lips.
But, just as quickly as he leans into the kiss, the realization dawns on him that this angle is miserably uncomfortable for his neck. He pulls away, their lips making a slick noise as they separate that Dante has absolutely no thoughts about, and he certainly isn’t filing it away with the memories he accesses when he’s back in Solaria with no companionship save for his own hand. Refocusing on what he’s doing, he wraps his hands around Olivine’s waist, ignoring the thought that he should try squeezing a little tighter to see if he can get his fingers to touch—anyways.
Fuck.
He pulls Olivine up and onto his lap. The movement is inelegant, but the priest quickly settles where he’s straddling Dante’s legs. Wordlessly, he reaches up to gather Dante’s hair, which has become quite unruly by this point, in his hands, gently twisting it and smoothing it over one shoulder before looping his arms around the back of Dante’s neck. The gesture is so tender, it could nearly make Dante sigh in contentment.
Before there can be any more distractions, Dante tilts Olivine’s head where he wants it so he can press back in for another kiss, biting none too gently at the priest’s bottom lip until it’s red and swollen.
Dante’s hands are everywhere, sliding hot and heavy from Olivine’s chest, down his sides, around his hips, and finally resting just above his ass. Here, he tugs Olivine down against himself, and the sensation when their cocks meet in a sweltering press between their bodies is electric.
This time, it’s Olivine who pulls his mouth away, sucking in a shuddering breath.
“You pushing and pulling me around… it’s really hot,” Olivine whispers. “Normally, I… with Eiden, he’s smaller than me, there’s only so much he can do. But you’re so strong, you can do whatever you want with me…”
As Olivine trails off, Dante can’t hide the effect his words have on him. He’s filled with a strange sense of achievement at the comparison, the warmth of his pride suffusing into his blood.
“Of course I’m stronger than that weakling. I assure you, there are many areas in which I far surpass him.”
“Mn… show me?” Olivine smiles at Dante so sweetly that, at once, competing with Eiden is the furthest thing from his mind. He pulls Olivine into another deep kiss, his tongue insinuating its way into Olivine’s mouth. He also resumes grinding up against him, the swell of Olivine’s cock hot and hard and already dripping with slick.
“Oh!” Olivine gasps into Dante’s mouth. “I see, this must be one of them?” He murmurs against Dante’s lips as he reaches down to wrap a hand around Dante’s cock, which has grown fully hard now, his length twitching in Olivine’s grip. His elegant hand is so soft around him, and he strokes over heated skin with gentle, barely-there pressure, rolling his thumb over the head to make Dante suck in a sharp, surprised breath.
Dante doesn’t have an immediate reply to the question, so he answers by kissing Olivine again, sucking his tongue into his own mouth to tease at the sensitive muscle. With one hand tangled in Olivine’s hair and the other holding tightly to his hip, Dante guides Olivine to surrender his body entirely to him. And it’s not difficult, Olivine is pliant in his arms, letting out pleased sounds whenever Dante tugs his hair or digs his fingernails into his skin.
When Olivine pulls his lips away, Dante lets out a low rumble of displeasure, biting that full bottom lip one more time before it’s out of reach. But instead of leaning back, Olivine wraps his arms even closer around Dante, pressing their bodies together in a long line from shoulders down to hips. His mouth is so close to Dante’s ear that his breath tickles his skin. Dante can feel his lips shaping words as he whispers a plea into his ear, hushed like a confession of the highest severity.
“You want me to… be rough with you?” Dante asks, frowning. That… isn’t what he would’ve expected to hear.
“Yes.” Olivine’s flush grows deeper as he nods.
“Why?” Dante’s tone is colored with skepticism and a hint of incredulity at the request.
“It’s not so different from what you and Eiden do, is it? You two argue back and forth and rile each other up that way.”
“That’s—what happens with that idiot is hardly relevant right now! If you’re trying to distract me, it won’t work,” Dante snaps, punctuating his statement with a quick pinch to the inside of Olivine’s thigh, which makes Olivine gasp and tense up.
“Hah, again...!” Olivine guides that same had of Dante’s up to his chest until his fingers brush a nipple, pink and already hard. It’s easy enough for Dante to acquiesce, pinching and tugging at each of Olivine’s nipples and watching him fall apart at the pain. He alternates between direct stimulation to his nipples and tugging on the chain to light up both sides of his chest with bright, aching sensation at once, never letting himself settle into a predictable pattern. From underneath him, Dante has an excellent view of Olivine’s blush spreading down his chest. He digs a fingernail into the underside of a nipple, and he can feel the sharp jerk of Olivine’s cock twitching against his own.
By this point, Olivine is melting in Dante’s arms, his powerful thighs quivering as they struggle to support him. In another show of strength, Dante rolls both of their bodies so Olivine is sprawled face-down across the bed, with Dante looming over him. Olivine pushes himself up enough to get his knees under himself, supporting his upper body with his forearms. Once he seems comfortable, Dante presses a hand to the middle of his back as an unspoken order to stay put before turning to his bedside table and grabbing a glass container no larger than his palm.
Dante opens the jar of scented oil, the mild, herbaceous fragrance hitting his nose as he dips his fingers in to coat them. Slowly, he lets some of the oil drip off his fingertips and onto Olivine’s ass, watching the drops roll leisurely down his skin. Often, when he’s doing this with Eiden, they end up moving so fast, each of them pushing and prodding at the other until they’re racing to the finish. However, with Olivine, the experience has him slowing down, like he’s moving through honey when they touch. The difference makes him feel vulnerable in a way that twists low in his guts; part of him wants to push it down and never acknowledge it ever, another part wants to poke and prod at the feeling until he can understand and master it.
To distract himself from all of that, he slides one finger over the pucker of Olivine’s hole, finding it already soft. It mouths at his oiled fingertip, so he slides in one finger, then two when that’s already too easy.
“Ahhn… Dante, your fingers are so long, hmmm, so deep…” Olivine trails off in a series of soft, hitching gasps.
The sounds Olivine is making only drive Dante harder, faster, so he picks up the pace. His hand makes an obscene slapping noise when it meets Olivine’s skin with each thrust. Olivine’s hole gives a couple futile clenches before relaxing around him, so Dante begins scissoring his fingers to stretch him even further. This earns him another gasp, and Olivine wiggles in his hands, tilting his hips in an attempt to change the angle of Dante’s fingers inside. Almost unthinkingly, Dante responds to the squirming with a light swat to the meat of Olivine’s inner thigh. He only realizes what he’s done when Olivine makes a choked sound that seems to get stuck in his throat before any actual words come out.
“Oh, Dante… is this my punishment?” Olivine’s voice is rough, but there’s an undeniable heat underneath it.
“Punishment? For what?” Dante bites out, a little annoyed at himself for losing the thread of whatever Olivine’s talking about.
“For what you saw—hn! The other night…”
Oh right, that. The reason they’re here in the first place.
“Punishments are supposed to deter the recipient from repeat offenses. I don’t think this can be called a punishment when you’re enjoying it this much.” Dante punctuates his statement with another slap to the other thigh.
“That’s—ah, please!” Olivine whines, voice wobbling. Dante watches a shudder race up his spine, and chases it with a spank to Olivine’s ass. When this is received with even more pleased sounds from Olivine, he rains a series of them all over his backside and thighs. Olivine takes the pain beautifully, and with as much clear enjoyment as he had taken the torment to his nipples.
Dante’s holding back, he knows better than to unleash his full strength like this, but anyone seeing Olivine’s dramatic reactions would never know. Each slap draws a moan out from deep within him, and goosebumps are raising all over his skin from the excess of stimulation. His skin is growing warmer under Dante’s hand. With each sharp spank to Olivine’s quickly reddening ass, Dante feels him tighten around the fingers that he’s still pressing inside.
By now, Dante has learned something important. Apparently, Olivine needs to make noise about everything, ranging from soft whimpers to full-throated moans, and they’re all remarkably loud. Dante is partially embarrassed on his behalf, but even more of him cannot get enough of those noises.
Once he can easily fuck Olivine on three fingers, Dante slides them out, but Olivine’s hole clenches down as he does, almost as if trying to keep him inside, desperate to stay filled. Olivine lets out a stuttering whine once he’s empty, turning to Dante with a heartbroken expression, as though Dante pulling his fingers out of his ass was the deepest betrayal he’s ever experienced.
“Don’t pout, I’ll give you what you need,” Dante huffs out in an attempt to sound soothing.
“Dante… hurry,” says Olivine, who arches his back even further as if to present himself. Dante would tell him off for his impatience, but the way he says his name so sweetly manages to placate him.
Moving with merciful urgency, Dante coats his cock with more of the oil, lines himself up, and thrusts all the way inside in one long stroke. It’s—a lot, all at once, being wrapped in slick heat down to the root, his cock twitching inside at the sensation. It punches the breath out of him, and he has to pause, listening to Olivine let out a filthy moan.
“Mmn, so big...! I can feel you, inside, ah, you’re even bigger than…” Olivine’s voice turns into a reedy whimper, but the mere suggestion that he’s hinting at is enough to drive Dante to begin thrusting, the slow thrusts that make him ache. He’s burning up, he needs to go faster, but he clings to the last threads of restraint within himself.
“Is that so?” He asks, knowing full well it may make him sound vain, but he’d do just about anything to hear Olivine tell him that he likes his cock better than Eiden’s.
“Yes! You’re s-stretching me out, so deep,” Olivine whimpers. He looks over his shoulder to lock eyes with Dante, a knowing smile curling the corners of his mouth. “I’ve never, mn, had someone so big before.”
Dante can’t help but pick up the pace, fucking into Olivine in rough, deep thrusts of his hips that make the bed rock with the force of Dante’s movements. The oil squelches between them every time their skin meets, wet and vulgar. Dante is so hot from the friction and exertion, he can feel trails of sweat rolling down the column of his spine, and he feels like his brain is going to melt out of his ears. It’s exhilarating, fucking into that soft, pliant body, the velvet heat of his hole tight around him as his cock drools precum into it. When Olivine starts squirming underneath him, Dante digs his fingers into his hips to hold him still, hard enough that it’ll probably leave crescent-shaped bruises in the shape of his fingernails.
It’s good, it’s so good, but there’s something just a little off lingering at the edges of Dante’s awareness, and it isn’t until he tries to get a look at Olivine’s expression that he notices what it is. Olivine’s no longer supporting himself on his forearms, he’s collapsed on to his chest and is pressing his face into the bedding, which has the unfortunate side effect of muffling all of those noises he’d been filling the room with before. As much as Dante can’t believe he’s thinking it, he misses those shameless sounds of pleasure. If he’s going to do all of this for Olivine, he wants that voice as his reward.
To remedy the situation, he has to pull out, intending to change positions, which immediately draws a despairing groan out of Olivine, who looks over his shoulder with a pathetic, watery gaze.
“Dante, why are you stopping?” He sucks in unsteady breaths between his words, wracked with full body shivers as if his whole body’s going to shake apart at the seams.
“Are you truly so insatiable that you can’t tolerate even a moment’s pause?” Dante asks, clenching his fingers into the meat of Olivine’s ass. The flesh bulges between his fingers, his cheeks parting to reveal his empty, wet hole clenching around nothing. The rim is already red and puffy from everything Dante’s subjected it to, and he’s not even done yet. The depraved sight makes Dante’s cock throb, twitching between his legs.
“N-no, please, put it back in… fill me up—mnh, I need you inside,” Olivine moans, seemingly so out of it that he’s not really listening to what Dante was actually asking him. His hips tilt back into the pressure from Dante’s hands.
Fuck.
With Olivine begging for his cock, Dante can do nothing but provide what was asked of him. He thrusts inside Olivine in a single long slide, sheathing himself entirely and rutting into him at a brutal pace. It’s so sudden, it makes Olivine scream into the sheets as he’s given what he asked for, hard and fast and unrelenting. Before Dante can even realize that he’s close, his orgasm burns through him in a wave of heat and sensation as he’s fucking his cum into Olivine in deep, stuttering thrusts.
Dante allows himself only a moment’s reprieve as he braces his palms against the bed, panting breaths hitting the flushed skin of Olivine’s back before he pulls himself out and continues with his earlier plan. Wrapping his arms around Olivine, he flips him over onto his back, meeting Olivine’s gaze as the priest lets out a surprised little squeal.
When he gets an eyeful of Olivine’s body, Dante finds a surprise of his own. The blush spilling from Olivine’s face all the way down his chest, the hard nipples reddened and puffy from rubbing against the bed, the used hole leaking thick streaks of cum down the curve of his ass, they would each create a suitably debauched image on their own, but what makes Dante’s jaw drop open is the smear of cum at the head of Olivine’s untouched cock. There are traces of it on his stomach as well, and even up to his chest. Dante hadn’t even known he’d finished.
“When did you orgasm?” Dante asks, incredulous.
“What?” Olivine responds dazedly. His chest is noticeably rising and falling with each deep breath he takes, drawing attention towards his… sizeable assets, which is not helping Dante focus at all.
“You already came. Why didn’t you tell me? Weren’t you oversensitive?”
“Oh, I, um, didn’t want you to stop. I’m sorry, it was wrong for me to be so greedy.” From the remorseful frown on Olivine’s face, Dante genuinely can’t tell if he truly feels sorry, or if he’s playing up his apology for perverted reasons. Regardless, Dante leans in, covering Olivine’s body with his own. Tipping his head down so close his nose brushes Olivine’s, their breaths intermingling, he lowers his voice to a whisper.
“I didn’t intend to stop. I still don’t. Is that what you want?”
Olivine nods so forcefully that he almost cracks his head into Dante’s.
They’re both still going strong after the second round, and even the third. It isn’t until Olivine’s about to reach his fourth orgasm (at least by Dante’s count) that he shows any signs of slowing down. Dante can feel Olivine’s legs trembling where they’re propped up on his shoulders, so he grips underneath each of his knees and presses them forwards, practically folding Olivine in half. Like this, Dante can angle his thrusts down even deeper, Olivine’s hole swallowing him to the root. Olivine’s keening moans fade into softer whimpers as his energy wanes, but he’s still begging for Dante to keep going.
“Dante—mngh! S-so good, I’m close, please-” is all he manages to choke out before orgasm overtakes him, and he becomes completely unintelligible.
If Dante had thought Olivine was a mess earlier, he’s completely unprepared for this. Olivine is filthy, lying in a sweaty, panting heap as he releases a fourth load onto his own belly. Though, this time, it’s more like a weak trickle of seed that pools around his gemstone. Dante’s brain helpfully supplies the idea that he should lean down and lick the peridot clean, following the trails of cum all the way up to his sensitive nipples, and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge too. Once he’s recovered, he can feel himself softening, so he slips out.
When Dante lets his gaze drift down to Olivine’s hole, his cock twitches fiercely in a last-ditch attempt to get hard again. He knows that Eiden has described his loads as excessive in the past, but nothing has made that reality clearer than seeing the aftermath of four of them stuffed into Olivine’s thoroughly used, gaping hole, some of it dripping onto the ruined bedding beneath and some smeared over his own cock. It’s obscene.
Something possessive takes ahold of Dante, and before he’s fully registered what he’s doing, he lays a hand low on Olivine’s abdomen and presses down, watching raptly as his cum is squeezed out of Olivine in what feels like a never-ending stream. Olivine whimpers and squirms at the sensation, but keeps his legs obediently spread.
Dante’s just about to pull himself away when Olivine groggily lifts his head, peering at Dante through half-lidded eyes.
“Come here please.” Olivine opens his arms in a clear invitation.
“We’re both filthy right now-” Dante tries to protest, but when Olivine shoots him a stern look, it surprises him enough that his voice dies.
“Dante. We can wash ourselves later, but right now, I’d like to hold you.” It takes a moment for Dante to place it, but he recognizes the tone in Olivine’s voice. Dante’s heard him speak like this to the children who follow him around like ducklings, specifically when they’ve misbehaved and he needs to stand firm with them. Even though Olivine has never made a point of it, he is older than Dante, and he’s never felt that difference more than now. And unlike when Eiden lords his age over him, and as much as he thinks he should feel patronized, there’s something… comforting about this, Dante supposes. Then again, he may simply be too fucked out to get offended, but he concedes that it can be an issue for when he’s not completely exhausted.
As a compromise, Dante uses a corner of the already soiled bedding to give each of their bodies a cursory wipe down before giving in and entering Olivine’s embrace.
By now, it’s completely dark outside, the faint, silvery moonlight streaming in through the windows. It makes everything look faded and dreamlike, and as Dante closes his eyes, the last thing he sees is Olivine, face relaxed in sleep.
And as for the incident in the library, well. Apology accepted.