God, the sight of him—so eager, so desperate—made my knees weak. I fisted his hair, guiding the pace, hips rolling shallowly, lettinghim set the rhythm, feeding him inch by inch, savoring the heat, the suction, the slick swirl of his tongue. Akintola stroked himself, standing over us, one hand braced on the king’s shoulder, possessive and claiming.
Alexandre’s mouth never stilled, spit pooling at the corners, running down my shaft, dribbling onto his chin. I let him work, head bobbing, cheeks hollowing, every muscle in his neck flexing with effort. I glanced at Akintola, who was watching the king with open hunger, stroking himself slow and rough, the head of his cock leaking, veins throbbing beneath thick, dark skin.
“Switch,” I ordered, pulling out with a gasp, spit and precome stringing between my tip and his lips. Akintola wasted no time, guiding his own cock to the king’s mouth, forcing it between swollen lips, groaning as Alexandre swallowed him down, throat bulging around the sheer thickness.
“Take it all,” Akintola growled, his hand gripping the king’s jaw, fingers digging into his cheeks. “No choking, no mercy. You want to serve, you do it right.”
I moved behind the king, knees sinking to the rug, hands gliding over his hips, nails scratching down the curve of his ass, spreading him open again just to see the slick mess I’d made. My cock pressed to his crack, sliding between the cheeks, smearing precome and spit, hips grinding slow, teasing, promising more.
The king moaned, mouth still full of Akintola, body shaking from the double assault—one mouth, two cocks, hands everywhere, no room to breathe. Akintola fucked his mouth slow and deep, head tipping back, jaw flexing, the control in his stance a sight to burn into memory.
I reached under, cupping Alexandre’s balls, rolling them, squeezing just enough to make him whimper. My other hand fisted his cock, stroking in time with Akintola’s thrusts, never letting him rest, always pushing him further, making him work for every gasp of air, every pulse of pleasure.
Akintola pulled out, cock glistening with spit, tapping it against the king’s lips, dragging the slick head over his mouth, across hischeeks, painting him with need. “Switch again,” he commanded, and I obeyed, kneeling in front, letting the king take me in again, this time deeper, throat working, eyes fluttering shut in submission.
“Beautiful like this,” I muttered, voice thick, hips rocking forward, feeding him every inch, watching as spit pooled at the corners, dripped down his chin, onto his chest. Akintola knelt behind him now, hands spreading his ass, tongue lapping at the rim, spit and precome dripping down, fingers teasing his hole, promising more.
The king’s body trembled, sweat pouring down his back, thighs flexing, every line a study in surrender and hunger. His mouth worked me in earnest, tongue swirling, cheeks hollowing, taking me as deep as I dared to give. Akintola’s tongue worked him from behind, spit running down to the base, fingers dipping in, stretching, stroking, edging him closer to madness.
“Hold still,” I commanded, gripping his hair, using it as leverage, hips rolling slow and steady, savoring the heat and suction, every whimper a spark in my blood. Akintola bit his ass, sucking a bruise at the crease, then slid two fingers deep, scissoring, stretching, fucking him open while I fucked his mouth.
The rhythm was relentless—mouth, cock, hands, tongue—every sense overwhelmed, every nerve singing with pleasure and power. The king’s hips rolled helplessly, caught between us, used, worshipped, devoured.
“Don’t you dare come,” Akintola warned, voice sharp as a whip. “Not until we say so.”
The king nodded, mouth full, eyes wide, desperate for more, for everything, for release that would be denied as long as we willed it.
My grip tightened in Alexandre’s hair, his mouth still working my cock with desperate devotion. Akintola knelt behind him, tongue and fingers relentless, stretching the king open, drawing out those low, ruined noises that made the whole room vibrate with hunger. I felt the need between us sharpen—something deeper, more feral, a craving to claim, to leave him wrecked and dripping and begging for more.
I eased out of his mouth with a slow, wet drag, watching the line ofspit stretch and break. His chest heaved, eyes glassy with want, lips raw and shining, jaw slack with effort. Akintola’s hands steadied him, sliding up his back, tracing each ridge of his spine as he reached for the wooden chest beside the bed—a heavy thing, battered but beautiful, brass fittings glinting in the candlelight.
Akintola threw open the lid, revealing a treasure trove of implements—lengths of leather, plugs in every size, metal rings, a thick black silicone gag, bottles of lube, a gleaming metal hook, a string of beads so dark they seemed to swallow the light. My breath caught, cock twitching at the thought of what was coming.
“Time for a real show, Majesty,” Akintola rumbled, his voice low and dark, fishing out a bottle of slick. He tossed it to me, and I squeezed a heavy line of it over my fingers, working it into the heat and stretch of the king’s hole, smearing the slick deep, twisting and scissoring my fingers, watching as his ass bloomed around me, red and wet and ready.
Akintola selected a plug—wide, heavy, ribbed with a thick, bulbous head. He held it to Alexandre’s lips. “Open up,” he ordered, and the king obeyed, tongue flicking out, licking the length, tasting rubber and lube and the sweat from Akintola’s palm.
“Not done yet,” I muttered, working more lube around the rim, fingers thrusting in, twisting, coaxing him looser, wanting him stretched wide and wanting, ruined for anyone but us. I pressed a kiss to the king’s lower back, biting a mark into the flesh just above his tailbone, then slicked the plug with more lube, lining it up with the trembling hole.
“Breathe,” Akintola growled, voice right in the king’s ear as I pressed the tip in, slow and relentless, feeling the muscle give, stretching around the toy, swallowing it down until the thickest part popped inside. The king gasped, head dropping to the rug, ass arching up, thighs spread as wide as they could go.
“Such a good slut,” I whispered, twisting the plug, watching his hole twitch and clench, the base tight against his cheeks. Akintola stroked his cock, watching, eyes glazed with hunger, fist working the length with lazy, punishing strokes.
“Time for that mouth to be put to better use,” Akintola decided, reaching for the gag. The heavy black silicone slid between the king’s lips, parting them wide, drool already beginning to drip down his chin as Akintola buckled the strap behind his head. The sight made my cock throb—his jaw stretched, eyes wide, unable to speak, every inch of him a study in surrender.
I pressed the king’s shoulders down, forcing him to arch his back, ass high, plug jutting from his hole. Akintola slicked his fingers and pressed them alongside the toy, stretching the rim even further, making him grunt and shudder, every sound muffled by the gag.
“Going to fill you up,” Akintola growled, the tip of his cock nudging the king’s thigh. “Going to breed you until you drip for days, mark you from the inside out.”
The words sent a jolt of pure fire down my spine. I slicked my own cock, pumping once, twice, then circled the king, pressing my chest to his back, mouth at his ear. “You’re going to take both of us, Majesty. Going to feel us everywhere. Plug’s just the start. You want it, don’t you?”
A wild nod, desperate and broken, body vibrating, ass clenching around the toy. Akintola slid the plug out with a slow, twisting motion, letting it pop free, then replaced it with three slicked fingers, thrusting deep, opening him further. I watched the gape, hungry, marveling at the way the king’s body yielded to us—taught by pain, by pleasure, by the sheer force of our need.
Akintola pressed a kiss to the king’s shoulder, biting down, sucking a bruise into the flesh. “You ready for cock, Majesty? Ready to be stuffed, stretched, filled with come until you can’t remember your own name?”
Drool leaked from the king’s mouth, gag forcing him to breathe through his nose, hips rolling, desperate to be filled. I pulled his ass higher, spread him open, watching the slick hole flutter and pulse, stretched wide and dripping lube.
Akintola slicked up his cock, lining it up, teasing the rim, letting the king feel the promise of what was coming. I watched, breath held,fist working my own length, every muscle in my body strung tight with anticipation.
