Chapter Text
Nightmare sighed as Cross was the last to enter the meeting room. That was very unlike him. The soldier was normally the most poignant at keeping time and place. His eyes narrowed for a moment, browbone wrinkling for just a moment before his eye slid back down to the papers in front of him. Odd. He’d make a mental note of that and talk with him later.
He idly wondered if he was perhaps overworking the man. Their discussion several days prior had been about just that: just how successful he’d been lately, going above and beyond in his fieldwork, filling out reports with more detail than he’d ever done in the last several months. He had been in a slump for some time, so the change in pace only brought the King of Negativity to believe he’d gotten over it. Perhaps not.
Cross took his seat, the other three settling down between their bickering and jeers to one another. Nightmare gestured to the stack of papers in front of each of the men, leaning over the table and looking down to his own. “This newest AU is an Outerfell variant. I’ve taken the liberty of laying out all the information Killer and I have gathered in surveillance…” The aforementioned skeleton gave a small scoff of pride, kekking to himself as he glanced at the others cockily.
It was about a third of the way through the meeting that Cross shifted in his seat for the 32nd time, clearly unable to sit still throughout their summit. Nightmare took a breath, slowly letting it out through his nose and he closed his eye to try and calm himself. “Cross, do you have anything to add?” His socket opened again, the single cyan eyelight locking on to him expectantly.
“No, sir.” Ever the formal one, Cross. It wasn’t too often the man was able to let himself go.
Nightmare hummed to himself, turning back down to the pages in front of him. “Dust, the Sans in this universe is more than a Fell variant- this should be obvious but I’ll repeat myself to be sure. Do better when you fight him. You’re getting sloppy, and I don’t want another mistake like your last visit to an Underfell universe...”
It was just past the halfway mark when Cross suddenly stood up from his chair. Nightmare gave him little attention as he moved around the room, focused too deeply in the current conversation with Horror about this Undyne’s reaction time and speed, determining how long he’d have before her arrival- if he didn’t go seeking her out first thing upon his arrival.
Cross swiftly moved to his position, taking up the mantle behind the King’s seat at the head of the table. Again Nightmare disregarded him as he focused on the topic at hand. “I know you’re always eager to fight her- Don’t let that enthusiasm get ahead of you. I—” his sentence was cut short at the sudden assault on his person. Cross’s hands set themselves on his shoulders, giving the faintest squeeze, sliding over his ecto as if they belonged there, emanating warmth that sunk deep and heavy into his bones.
“What’re you—” His words were cut short by the feeling of those very hands sliding south, gliding bones that caught on the fabric of his sweater, slithering down the front of his chest as though he had any right to Nightmare’s beautiful body. It didn’t help that Cross’ first and middle fingers strayed inwards to trail along the edge where his dress met his vulnerable, exposed ecto. He could’ve almost forgiven this disrespectful treatment, until they made it to their targeted point of interest.
“Cross!” His yelp was sharp, a mix of surprise and offense that leaned further to the former than latter. Nightmare made a move to pull away, his arms lifting up and out to push the assailant’s own limbs off of him. But Cross held firm. He could feel him bend down to his level, the belligerent bastard’s breath ghosting across the back of his neck- that which only served to rile him further. For Nightmare such a thing was blatant insult to injury, his pride being the wound he now bore.
Then Cross drew his mouth near Nightmare’s canal, and everything stopped.
“You said anything.”
Nightmare froze.
He had said that, nearly a week ago now, promising that whatever the soldier wanted he would make happen. He thought the recruit would’ve just asked for a blowjob before a mission, or a personal night to have Nightmare to himself when he returned. Something simple. Something obvious. The second it took to react seemed to pass so slowly as his mind reeled back to that moment.
Nightmare had been in his study reading when Cross knocked.
“Enter.” The Guardian’s drawl was low as he continued to read, not even bothering to look up from his book. He could tell by the tenseness that it was Cross, if his peripheral vision hadn’t given it away beforehand.
“You wanted to see me.” It was more a statement than a question. The soldier’s stern tone often made it hard to differentiate the two with him.
“Yes. I’ve been meaning to speak with you about something recently,” He lowered the book, his thumb and first finger holding the binding of the novel to both save his page and keep it propped up in his hand. Cross merely stood at attention, just as straight and rigid as he when he’d first arrived. Nightmare enjoyed the respectful act, though he wondered if Cross ever let it down, if even for a moment.
“You’ve been doing well lately.” If it were at all possible one would have seen Cross straighten up further. Nightmare fought the urge to smile. The guard dog always was so eager for praise. “Because of this I want to offer you something. Anything.” He glanced up to gauge for Cross’ assuredly rapt attention. “Just name it.”
“What?” It was more a question than a statement this time around.
“I’m going to give you something as a reward, so name it.” Nightmare’s lower lid rose a fraction of an inch. Cross could be so dense sometimes, he swore. Hopefully the little rewording he’d provided would help him understand. As it were he had little patience for the interruption. It wasn’t often he was afforded some form of peace to himself. The others were constantly vying for his affection when he wasn’t busy with work. And even when they were working- even then- they fought for his attention.
“That wasn’t what you said the first time.”
Nightmare’s nose would’ve flared had he had one. “That I will offer you something?” That he might take it back.
“Anything.”
What.
“What?” The single word now left him confused. He took a breath, pinching the liquid bone between his sockets. Calm down. Cross’d been gone on leave for nearly a month at one point and never spoke a word of complaint. And now? After yet another week away, creating as much negativity in an AU— SwapShift, if he recalled correctly— as he could, he merely stood there like an idiot, confused and unsure. Stars this was more than grating on Nightmare’s nerves. But he had to play nice. Cross was one of his best men.
“You said anything.”
“Anything, yes, anything.” His hand rose to wave off Cross’ need for specifics, “Just name it.” Gods, he was starting to go just beyond a mere ‘annoying’. Nightmare wasn’t a patient man, and what little he did possess was quickly fraying thin like burning rope.
“… Anything?” There was an underlying cadence to his tone now, his eyes narrowing in suspicion of how far he could go. Nightmare picked up on it immediately.
“Anything.”
The purr of a word drifted in the air between them as his book was moved aside, slipping his thumb from between the closing pages and setting it on the table. The smirk that danced across Nightmare’s mouth hinted at something more, that single cyan eyelight lifting back up to meet his own before locking onto him. Cross fought the urge to swallow.
Did Nightmare have something planned? Did he have a specific request in mind? Why not voice that instead? The soldier’s browbones furrowed in thought as his gaze turned away and down. The rug had a few different stains on it. The intricate pattern was dirtied by overspilling oils and liquid ichor: dripping excretes from both Killer and Nightmare.
“Anything.” He repeated it quietly to himself as he stared, his mind wandering as he began to lose himself in thought. His brow furrowed again. This time it was more, now, in imagining possibilities than an attempt at understanding. And then his brow smoothed over. And he knew what he wanted.
Cross was arduous. He took great pride in his ability to outperform others with such ease when it came to doing demanding work. Even in his struggles he still found ways of compensating for any loss, often in the form of him accepting a defeat as a means of lessons learned.
He was always studying things, gathering new knowledge and using it to perfect his already honed skills. Testing limits, pushing boundaries, seeing how far he could go. Though this mentality was more readily applied to his mostly honed skills, he wouldn’t cut off the idea of using it to better those he was less proficient at.
“I’ll need to think about it Sir.” The authoritarian term piqued his interest again, bringing Nightmare to tilt his head ever so slightly to the left. A smile split his face in half once more, the whites of his teeth shining as he bore them more similar to a dog’s warning than a pleasant grin of approval.
“I’ll be waiting.”
Waiting. That should’ve been his first hint. He thought the soldier would request a full night to himself, perhaps something promiscuous during their movie nights, even for a means for them to ‘shower’ together again sometime. He wouldn’t be thinking too far ahead in the future. No, Cross would likely take the time to build the courage to ask for something for himself, as opposed to having it happen naturally, or from Nightmare’s initiation.
But this? This was something as entirely new for Cross as it was for Nightmare. At least it was to find it coming from Cross of all people. Nightmare was both shocked and intrigued at his gall. It wasn’t often- if ever- that Cross pulled such a stunt. It was so unlike him. The fact that he took his time to carefully plan what he wanted? To take things into consideration and take full advantage of what was given to him? It made Nightmare squirm, to be taken by someone with such foresight, as opposed to the rabid dog he so frequently was.
Cross squoze Nightmare’s tits, groping his breasts as if he had some right to them. Nightmare could only sit there, incredulous. He stared down at the hands that pawed at him like a pup for its mother’s teat, kneading him with a rougher level of delicacy than would be the norm. He held them with an almost reverence; one that bordered dangerously on obsession. As flattering as it was, it was also concerning. What all did he have planned?
“You said name anything, so now I’m naming it. I want to fuck you in front of them. Here, and now.” His fingerbones swept across the fronts, grazing Nightmare’s yet-to-release nipples.
Nightmare whined as Cross’s fingers found them again and again, exciting them further with each pass until the sensitive little nubs were fully exposed, each popping free from their inner confines. The overly delicate touch went on for what felt like too long; he’d gotten too adjusted to it by the time Cross made his next move, taking him off guard. The feeling of phalanges pinching them through his sweater dress had him crying out, leaving what little shock remained from before to come back tenfold.
His arms pulled back to press his chest out as far as possible, using his elbows and forearms to push against the back of his chair in hopes of putting enough distance between his overly sensitive buds and Cross’ teasing hands. It was in vain, his reach too long and grip too strong as he tugged at the fat, his nipples slowly growing raw. He was driving Nightmare mad in more than just one way.
Any chance he had to speak up was ripped away as Cross’ whispered words came creeping across the side of his neck. “You promised.”
What Fae Magic bullshit did he just pull out of his ass? Nightmare held his boys in rather high regard, but the idiot that was his newest recruit never seemed the type to make such a vile, conniving (and impressively clever) plan. Where did this incel of a schoolboy find the courage? The brains?
Nightmare was furious. Of all times, of all places, of course he would wait for the most inconvenient to call upon his now officially used ‘anything’ voucher. And while Nightmare himself weren’t of the fae, he took his contracts and agreements to a lawyerishly high level of earnestness.
His body remained rigid, tensing further with every movement Cross made across his puffing buds. “You idiot! We’re in the middle of a meeting!” He hissed over his shoulder, meeting eyes with the larger skeleton. His partner merely shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pinched the bases again. He pulled until they each slipped from between his fingers, the action causing the God to screw his sockets shut as it ripped another wanton moan from his nonexistent throat.
“Yeah, I know…” His voice was suddenly back to being full and loud, enough the others could easily hear him. “Yet you’re not throwing me off,” The cockiness in his tone made Nightmare want to smack his hands away, or elbow him more harshly and directly than he had earlier. The gall of that man.
“Your audacity- You’ll pay greatly for it.” His oddly white teeth would’ve grit enough to creak had they not been made of the same black ichor that was his body. Yet there was nothing he could do. A deal was a deal.
It was nearly 5 minutes of slowly playing with his partner’s breasts, in that time having removed the others’ sweater dress and begun using his mouth on them, before Cross finally turned his attention elsewhere. Nightmare had tried, at first, to hold some sense of authority over the group and continue his conference with the other three. That quickly fell apart as each of them were just as invested in the little show as Cross was.
“Didn’t know you were so easy for him, Boss.” Killer sniggered to himself, his lop-sided grin plastered across his face. He glanced to the others. They had all come to a silent agreement, the three of them having since rotated their chairs to face him directly, only further adding to the humiliation the guardian had to face.
“I’m- nh- not!” Cross kissed his way down Nightmare’s neck as his hands drew south, the soft, pliant ecto yielding to the gentle pressure his fingers applied. That was his favorite part about Nightmare: the plump, voluptuous folds of faux flesh that drove each of them wild. Down past the pouch of fat that rested overtop his fupa, that little mound of blue itself, and into the most delicious part of him.
His fingers slipped into the softest pocket of folds, glazing across Nightmare’s clit a time or two before coming back up to his mouth. “Mh.” He popped the two fingers that had just dove into Nightmare’s pussy into his mouth, suckling gently as though it were the most delectable nectar. Stars he adored the taste of his lover.
Nightmare’s face was a complete mess of black and blue, cyan flush coating his ebony bones as he tried to not give in to temptation. His sockets were screwed shut yet again, blocking out the image of the rest of his crew watching with rapt attention as he was made to come undone.
“Let’s try something…” The way Cross said that was suspicious to say the least, the King’s socket snapping open at the sentence as he tried to tug himself free. His motion to pull away became more insistent as he felt Cross shift in a way that suggested he was reaching into his pocket. He shifted again, groaning when he found Cross had long since pinned his chair against the table. Nowhere to run.
He turned to glance back at the trio, Killer shamelessly jerking his cock out in the open, Horror rubbing himself through his shorts and Dust, with that ever-unseen expression, hidden by his hood, leaned back in his seat with a now lit cigarette in his mouth. Nowhere to hide.
Nightmare whined as Cross’ hand came back down to slip into his pants once more. Right back to his clit, gently circling the little nub as best he could between the thick thighs trying desperately, fruitlessly to keep him out in a tightly sealed secret. In his other hand Nightmare saw the glint of metal- the two charging points of what looked to be a-
Oh stars- No. Not here. Not now. Not like this.
The small magenta-hued toy was brought just in front of Cross’ face, his tongue slipping out to gently lave at the little hole before lowering it towards the waistband of Nightmare’s pants. His first hand pressed out, using his wrist to make an opening big enough to slip it in and against the most tender parts of him. Nightmare writhed knowing full well what was about to come. “Cross! Don’t you dare!”
The empty threat was completely ignored as he hooked his fingers in the upper crease of the Guardian’s lips, prying them apart just enough to allow him access to his tender little pearl. He was flying blind, using feeling alone- both with his surprisingly adept hands and by feeling the motions his lover made- to line it up.
Cross turned it on, listening as the noisy little thing whirred to life and began sucking wildly, akin to a creature having starved for years until now. Nightmare cried out as Cross pressed it into him. He made sure to make full contact between the plush of the ecto around the Guardian’s clit and the edge of the toy, forming a perfect seal. He moved the flowery toy, checking now and again to be sure it was fully flush with the ‘skin’ surrounding it.
Nightmare almost wanted to cry. The feeling was so intense, so pleasurable. He could hardly stand it when they were alone in the bedroom- perhaps with or without one other occupant in his bed at a time, max- but here, in front of all of his lovers at once? It added a whole new layer of embarrassment, and in doing so, a whole new layer of excitement. He mewled helplessly, whining as Cross shifted from one foot to the other, the toy shifting with his movement.
“You promised.” He murmured gently, pressing his teeth to Nightmare’s neck in a soft kiss. He aimed for the spot between shoulder and neck, pressing the most chaste kiss to the scarcely ecto-coated bone. The Night King quivered at the feeling, bone and fangs grazing just over his vertebrae in a whisper of a touch.
The only thing to take him any further off guard was the feeling of Cross’s arm wrapping across his chest, followed with the feeling of his fingers pinching his left nipple again. The little bud had started to soften and retreat, but Cross made quick work to ensure it made no departure. He wasn’t done playing just yet.
The taller man’s left hand was busy holding the vibrator in place, his right arm now holding Nightmare tight against him as it reached across to the opposite side, palming his lover’s tit. The fat flesh rolled around as he kneaded at his breast once more, squeezing the succulent body part and watching as it dimpled, bubbling up from between his fingers.
His cock twitched again for the who knows how many times now. It was getting more and more difficult to hold back, the bulge of his clothed member pressing into the gap in the chair. This sweet little space gave him easy access to Nightmare’s ass, rubbing between his cheeks as he continued to hold him against the chair, pinned between in and Cross’ arm. Not to mention his secondary pin to the table. Escape was nigh impossible- not that he would. He’d made an agreement after all. The friction wasn’t helping either of them, Nightmare’s own body reacting in time to the toy through writhing movements and shaking limbs.
He couldn’t handle it; it was too much. The Guardian fought to free himself as he slowly locked up completely, the feeling of his orgasm overtaking any fight or flight he could’ve mustered. His legs fought to stay closed, struggling to stop the urge to throw them open in a carnal desire for more. He could feel the heat rising- the warmth that spread along his legs and into his feet- he was so close..
And suddenly he was a shaking, slurring mess. His legs locked up as he lurched, pressing the tops of his thighs into the arms of the chair in feeble attempt to latch onto anything; to get something inside him; to keep the toy from leaving; to chase that beautiful, unavoidable high that was his coming. His words were warped by the pleasure, his body thrusting uselessly into the toy as his pussy clenched down onto pure nothingness.
“It’s.. Too-ooo much! Oh Gods- Cross!” Nightmare cried out again as another orgasm wracked his mind and body, the toy causing them to bleed together as Cross kept it on him, unrelenting in his assault.
Cross smirked as the King of Negativity came undone once more. Then again. And again. Twice more he repeated this process, the nearly five orgasms having overworked his poor, aching cunt. Stars he’d never felt so empty before now. He needed something inside him, desperately. “Cross- Please.”
The monochrome man smirked, pulling back to finally stand, pulling the back of Nightmare’s chair to removed him from his small prison between seat and table. He swiveled it to the side, giving the worn man further room to move as Nightmare slumped in his seat, legs aching and clit sore.
“Get on the table.”