(ᵕ—ᴗ—) # 1 automobile fucker

“Third time should be the charm, right?”

Blank eyes lift from the page that they were glued to in the “help wanted” section. Weather tilts his head, frowning slightly in concentration, nearly cross eyed from focusing on you, and the things in your hands.

“Please. Please remember to throw out your food stuff. Not the first time I’ve asked.”

Guilt flickers over his expression and he takes the stack of instant ramen cups with a nod, standing and almost letting the newspaper fall before clumsily grabbing it with his other hand. You stifle a laugh; his cheeks redden a tiny bit in embarrassment.

“Sorry--” he starts.

“No, no, it’s fine, relax,” you say, patting his arm. It isn’t funny. It is. But still.

Weather sighs.

“There’s nothing older than yesterday,” he explains.

“Don’t need to worry. It’s all good.”

He nods, still a little guilty looking. “I got distracted— Anasui—“

“Oi, don’t blame me!” The pink haired man snaps from the kitchen island. You roll your eyes.

“Sui, chill, I wasn’t about to bring out the torch and pitchfork for you. You’re not worth the effort.” Teasing, you stride past him to the sink and flip the faucet. Water sputters out the tap, drips at first before turning to a tepid stream.

The utilities at this place were far from a luxury hotel’s, but you’d rather have a lukewarm shower at your own time, in your own damn place, than surrounded by fifteen-odd other naked chicks. Options were limited when the third member of your little house crew had looked at the single outfit that he’d come into the prison with on his tray for so long the staff barked at him to not hold more people up.

Money, money. Whatever you found next would hopefully be better than that fast food place you just left. Putting up with that damn manager was going to put you back in Green Dolphin for real.

You scrub your hands, pressing your lips together.

Damn green paper.

Weather lifts the lid on the trash can and drops in the stack of cups he’d accumulated under the coffee table. Anasui opens the fridge.

“You see anything in there you want to do?” you ask.

Weather nods, and sets the newspaper down on the counter between the sink and Sui’s cutting board. A few jobs are circled with a red pen: you briefly scan over them with a nod. Construction, warehouse fare, a lot of temp or contract stuff. Companies you’d suggested. Wow. You can’t hide the bit of pride you feel at how he listened to you.

“Good array of options.”

He nods, reading over the options again. You look over your shoulder.

“Sui, what about you?”

Drawers in the peeling white fridge squeak. Then there’s a shivering sound of glass and plastic bumping against each other as he shuts the door and strides back over to his cutting board without a word.

Typical. Damn man wasn’t deaf. You exhale, leaning your hip against the cabinet before straightening. Ew, wait, why is it tacky? Pray to god it’s just the humidity.

“Hey, Sui. I was talking to you,” you repeat.

“I’ll find something I like,” he replies airily, and slaps down a few slices of turkey onto the white bread. “I don’t want to hop between jobs left and right.”

Asshole. “Yeah, I definitely wanted to leave my insured job cold turkey,” you say sarcastically. He raises an eyebrow.

“You--”

A warm, firm hand lays on your shoulder.

“Knock it off, both of you. Please.” The “please” isn’t a threat, per se, but it’s said a little bit firmer than usual.

Damn the fact that Weather had to come with a bitchy, pink haired killer as a side accessory. You sigh, and give Anasui a stink eye he easily returns.

Not worth it, not worth it. Weather was right. Really, Anasui wasn’t that bad: he just wasn’t so social. And in a cramped apartment? Shit, you really shouldn’t complain, you admit to yourself as you shrug off the former’s hand.

Ultimately, it was for the better, not just savings wise, but emotions wise, that he was here. When your careful chiding didn’t do anything, Anasui’s sarcastic spats would get Weather moving a little quicker.

And you needed to move quickly.

Commuted. You’d looked it up even after your lawyer had confirmed you wouldn’t be there for longer than ten months, rather than the four extra years you had been promised, and it was a totally real and totally legitimate reason for you to get out. And it was all thanks to a cluster of idiots that thought they could get away with fudging some details. Maybe miracles existed after all.

And that was where you couldn’t stand Anasui’s pessimism. Though he occasionally left and came back with extra parcels of money, for the most part he lurked within the apartment constantly, reading, working on something in his and Weather’s room-- sometimes sewing something in the living room you tried to peek at, but as soon as he caught your look, he went back to his room.

Yeah sure, you were going to burn out of looking soon if you didn’t get pickier, but you had to at least try, even with the grease stain of prison time on your resume. Chrissakes, you were innocent and Weather had nonviolent convictions, you were ninety percent sure when you approached him at the rec fence that he’d have good news. But Anasui?

Dude should be lucky he didn’t get a longer sentence in the first place, you think, and give Anasui a stink eye.

“Sorry.” Muttering, you stretch your arms and yawn, striding past the two of them. “I actually also have a sale going on today, so I need to commandeer the shower for a little.”

“What are you getting rid of this time?” Weather asks.

“Old trunk of clothes. It’s not a lot, but some vintage seller--”

“You didn’t ask me.”

Anasui bites into his sandwich like he wished it were your head. Maybe he does. Freak. You narrow your eyes at him.

“I did, actually. Remember? We went to the storage unit to get my musty ass mattress out for you. When you opened the steamer trunk, you said, and I quote--”

“I just said--” Weather starts, exasperated, but you hold up a hand to cut him off and take a deep breath. Count to ten.

“Weather, I’m not trying to argue, I promise.” You turn back to Anasui, like, are you serious? And unfortunately his expression says yes.

“I did show you that trunk. It’s the one you pulled out that patterned jacket from, remember? The one you’ve been wearing recently?”

You knew exactly which one it was. The fabric was silky and sleek, and so light that you had no issue giving it to the man who started bitching the moment the needle of the thermometer ticked over eighty-five degrees. And as soon as you mention it, his eyes flicker with guilt before he rolls them.

Asshole.

Anasui says (huffs, really), “Fine. I didn’t know you were in such a rush to get rid of it.”

“I don’t want to just have shit sitting there,” you counter.

“What if it could come in handy later?”

Your gaze roves over to Weather, who frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a lot of furniture in there. When you move out, you could use it there.”

That was true. This cruddy spot had come with a lot of furniture, which was both good and bad; you weren’t able to move in as much of the junk from the storage unit as you would have liked and you wanted to get rid of as much of it as possible, even if not to move things into the house but to pay less for the unit. Felt like a damn house when you walked in.

“Most of the stuff in there isn’t really practical, it’s just family things I inherited, some of it is valuable, some of it yeah, I won’t… get rid of.” Your voice softens a little. “I’m not getting rid of the unit, Weather. Don’t worry.”

It’s not much of a show of emotion, but his brow unknits, and his face takes on an air of calm as he nods.

Weather was ridiculously cute: a part of you worried that you were taking advantage of him; over and over you were googling if being attracted to an amnesiac was somehow immoral, but he knew way more than you initially expected. How much of that he picked up from Anasui, you didn’t know.

White waves that he rarely styled and regularly covered with a similarly colored hat paired with his tan skin and light blue eyes-- when you were in a dreamy state of mind, he looked downright angelic. Today, he was handsome even without trying, dressed in a band shirt and sweatpants.

“That bedframe was nice,” he offers.

“Why would she take your word on something like that?” Anasui asks.

“And why didn’t you let me ask that?” Playfully, you swat at his arm and he lifts it away from you with an eye roll.

“Tch.”

“Also, it’s not usually a bedframe that makes a bed uncomfortable, it’s the mattress. I would hope that you didn’t say that because you were planning on sleeping on the bedframe. If you took it,” you add, blood rushing to your face. God. Real smooth save. Definitely didn’t imply that you thought you both would sleep on the same bed when you left.

Anasui’s eyes narrow. You shoot him a glare.

Thankfully Weather is none the wiser and shakes his head.

“Please, don’t argue. But I wasn’t, no-- I don’t mind the mattress I have.”

Anasui clucks his tongue. “That bedframe is too big for that mattress. You have a twin XL, the frame is for a queen,” he reminds him.

Weather frowns. “Right.”

“Y/N has a queen.”

The fucking brat… again, as you bite the inside of your cheek, you thank your lucky stars that Weather doesn’t seem to know what’s going on. He just nods at Anasui, who is masterfully avoiding the evil look you’re giving him.

“How expensive would that be?”

“It depends….” You start quickly. Swear to god, if that stupid pink haired fuck interrupted you again…

“You could probably find a used one no problem. Just have to make sure it’s not too gross.”

“I see.” He tilts his head in thought.

“Anyway…..” you say slowly, “Anyone need the shower? Say no, or forever hold your peace.” You hold your hands up in surrender, pausing and glancing between the two of them. Weather shakes his head. Anasui bites into his sandwich again.

“I’m headed over now then.” You scoop up your outfit stacked on your laundry basket and stride down towards the shared bathroom of you three.

Behind you, Anasui starts to chat quietly with his friend.

Probably talking shit. You exhale, and lock the door behind you: not worth it, not worth it.

Your crush on Weather wasn’t exactly discreet, at least by your standards, but you forgot that he was oblivious in the sweetest way. And you really couldn’t do anything when you shared the apartment like this: not only because of Anasui, but… you bite your lip. Your fluffy bath rug is in need of a wash under your feet.

If you made Weather uncomfortable, it would be preferable to die on the spot.

Your position over him… it might make someone else uncomfortable. It would make you pretty damn uncomfortable (especially if it were Anasui you had to rely on…). But he took it in stride. When you came home exhausted after a thirteen hour shift at the fast food gig, he had no qualms about heating up extra leftovers. Or cleaning up the kitchen when you fell asleep on the couch. And even when you apologized, he didn’t seem to worry too much. By some metrics, you practically were a couple already, besides…

Closeness. This close, finally.

Too many times in the last year you’d thought about it, finally being this close to him instead of separated by at least three inches of iron bars. And now you were stopping yourself at the finish line so quickly you felt you might trip over it anyway. And that dumb, pretty asshole would watch the whole time and laugh, probably.

Christ.

The water finally begins to warm. As you step over the porcelain lip, something bright catches your eye.

A bright pink clump of hair sits near the drain like a tropical bug.

Gross motherf—

You bite your tongue and hiss out a string of curses. Hope his dick falls off, gets bitten off by an alligator, maybe he gets completely eaten.

No… you didn’t really want that. You didn’t. Maybe a little.

You stick your tongue out at yourself and shake your head.

Maybe you’d treat yourself to a good coffee.

“Y/N?”

“It’s obvious.” A pink nail catches on stray threads in the sweater, and Anasui has to clench his fist and shove it in his pocket.

No, don’t. Don’t. Once the itch and thoughts slowly become quieter, he exhales and looks at Weather evenly. The latter looks slightly confused.

“When a girl likes someone— or if she’s poor— she’ll put up with anything.” And when she doesn’t—

Weather frowns. “I don’t really like what you’re insinuating. Y/N doesn’t hate you.”

“Even if she did it wouldn’t matter, because she likes you. That’s my point.” He leans back into the couch and sighs.

Despite the attitude you gave him, he had to admit, he needed to find something to put his mind to. To distract. Or even better, hone skills at— that trembling lipped little “transition specialist” clearly wasn’t ready for him to show up on his appointments, because all the paths he’d suggested were laughable. Mechanic? No thanks. Retail management? He had enough issues roping in you and Weather. Constructions, demolition, junkyard? All such “close but no cigar” suggestions that he must have pulled out of his ass when he saw “disassemble” on the intake.

When you ran up to the rec fence like an idiot, bright eyed and babbling about fraud in the force and commuted sentences, he almost wanted to laugh at you. But even his lawyer…. His… had confirmed the news that the state would legally have to let him go.

“I’ll connect you to some groups,” he said flatly, and shuffled the papers in front of him without even looking at his charge. Anasui hadn’t expected much. But when Weather had suggested the three of you live together, something in him had stirred.

Maybe it was the expression on your face. The shock and excitement, but then the hesitation. It would always be there, he knew. Not that there was any use in self pity, but of course you would resent him for being there, when he could tell without a second glance how head over heels you were for his friend.

At the least, your annoyed expression was cute. Pouting lips. Eyes avoiding his, knowing what he would pick up on.

“Thank you for going in with us, Sui.”

“What? You like her, don’t you?”

Weather shifts in his seat. “Yeah. I do.” His voice is soft, softer than Anasui had heard it in… a while. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

Ugh. Both of you, fucking insufferable, as he grits his teeth. Dancing around this stupid thing for two whole months now. If you were crasser, maybe you’d outright bark at him for cockblocking you from Weather. But in the two months of living together, you still hadn’t even had the damn courage to lay your head on Weather’s shoulder, only to stutter and flit around him like him as a mother hen, so god knew when you would progress past annoyed looks. It pissed him off. Especially when…

“Love you forever, Anasui! Of course I’ll love you forever!”

Thank god the cup was plastic, or else he might have cracked it in his grip. Inhaling, he shakes his head. “You couldn’t if you tried. Believe me.”

“Well--” He pauses. Then, he does something that somehow shocks the pink haired man-- and blushes.

“I found something of hers.”

“What?”

Weather looks a little guilty, but reaches behind him into the crease of the cushion of the couch, and slides out a small, red and black covered book. Anasui’s nose crinkles.

“What--” grabbing it, he flips the cover over. Oh, what a paperback.

Black roses curl around a silhouette of a couple on a red background, the pose rather-- suggestive. Loopy silver text spells out an equally cheesy title: Between Thorns and Spires.

Yuck. He’s halfway tempted to throw it through the window; but the blackmail potential was really high. Even without that… he presses his lips together tight to keep from snickering, flipping through the pages and catching on the corniest lines that would make him cringe if he got to be alone: “quivering thighs”, “her plush, flush rose”, “made her positively feverish with ecstasy”. Seriously? You were indulging in this on the DL when your crush was right there?

Though, as his eyes move to Weather, he pauses dead in his tracks.

“I don’t know…” Weather trails off, eyes far away. His pupils dilate just a little, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. The pink in his cheeks doesn’t fade. “I wanted to… will she expect that?”

Of course she would. No, probably not, you were too nice, you wouldn’t expect him to immediately send you to the stratosphere. Fuck, each of you were just too considerate.

His hand tightens on the book. That might be too far. But…

“I’ll be out of your hair before you know it, okay? Don’t stress too much.”

“If she does, I have an idea.”

Two words: Hell. Yeah.

You hadn’t stopped grinning since you left the meeting spot. Halogens light your way in a comforting, warm manner as you get to the flaking gate.

All the sense of the prison life had kept you from excitedly counting the bills every second you remembered that the sale was indeed real, that their eyes had bugged out of their damn skull when a silk blouse from a brand you hadn’t been able to find online was tugged from the trunk. You almost wince when you think of how you’d dragged it out with all the grace of a dog pulling its favorite toy out from under a pile of shoes. Thank god the sleeve hadn’t ripped.

Oh well. The extra hundred you’d managed to weasel out of them had you higher than any drug.

Hell. It was worth saving, but if that interviewer got back to you…. you scratch behind your ear as you ascend the stairs to your apartment. There was nothing saying you couldn’t go to the thrift store. Maybe get a new outfit for your next interview.

Or, or— your heart trills with excitement-- you might be able to propose a date to Weather.

Especially if this interview went well. You have to push your thumbs into your cramping cheeks. Cripes. Getting ahead of yourself as usual.

But your head swims with visions of a cute aquarium date, walking to a cafe, holding hands at a movie theater— nothing too raunchy, but… you sigh, and unlock the door. Maybe in another life.

“Hey, you two! I have good news~”

But your singsong isn’t met with anything. In fact, the apartment is dark when you enter.

The only light comes from the TV down your line of sight, where Weather sits across from it— the blue light catches on his skin and pale features, carving out his jaw exquisitely. At the sound of the door, he turns to you.

“Hey!” You wave, giddy, slipping off your shoes and bounding towards him. Excitement swirls in your stomach and bubbles. “You won’t believe the luck I had.”

“Mm?”

For a second, you falter. That’s… well, it isn’t out of character for Weather, to reply like that. He wasn’t much of a talker. But there’s something off.

His eyes. They’re a little darker, the same way as when he was angry. And yet, something else-- none of his other tells were visible.

No, don’t worry about it. A bonus hundred dollars was in your pocket. Internally you shake your head, and grin at him.

“One of those blouses was worth way more than I thought and I got a little extra! Like, a hundred. Lucky me, right?” Your fingers drum against your thighs, and you shimmy a little. “I swear, one of these days I’m going to have to ask Anasui about some of these brands because I think he knows way more than he’s saying.”

If it weren’t such a relief to have those five twenties you’d cringe at how excited you sounded. But thankfully Weather reciprocates, his brows raising in polite surprise.

“That is lucky. Any idea of what to do with it?”

“Any idea? Damn, I have too many. But I’ll probably have to be responsible and save it,” you sigh, and flop down next to him.

Now that you could take a load off, fatigue slides down your spine and draws attention to how sore your feet are. Annoying, but expected from walking around to the bus stop and through the storage facility two times over. All you had to do tomorrow was relax. You could take a long, hot shower after making Anasui clean up his damn hair in there. The thought makes you giggle.

“What is it?”

You shake your head. “I’m just relieved. I don’t want to be dramatic.” Exhaling, you stare up at the ceiling.

“I don’t think you’re dramatic. I like it.”

Your heart flutters. “Ah, haha, it’s not-- it’s not serious,” you reply, laughing weakly as you nudge him. “Tired though. Crap, what do we have in the fridge?”

“Do you mind waiting to eat?” he asks.

And just as it begins to pick up the pace, your heart slams into a wall. What?

With it, your eyes widen on him.

Had… had he ever looked at you like this?

“Uh… no, what’s up?” You ask.

“I wanted to do something.” Weather leans a little bit closer, and says, softly, “It’s a little important.”

Important? What… you… it couldn’t be. Just when you thought about it?

“Y-yeah. Go for it.” Your voice is quiet.

His arm reaches up around the back of the couch. It steadies himself as he comes dangerously close to your face, mouth nearly touching yours— his breath brushes over your lips carefully, light, his form shrinking back just imperceptibly.

He was…. Hesitating. As if asking for permission to close that final, small gap.

Isn’t that what you’d been waiting for?

You kiss him. And know, immediately, that is exactly what he wanted.

Weather hums into your mouth, hand coming up to hold your waist. Your own drifts to his jaw, tilting it slightly— the new angle lets him lean you back even further, sliding down as he maneuvers you to lay back on the cushions.

His knee moves up between your legs, his form hovering over you. Each kiss is long, loving, with little break to breathe in between each one, each inhale silent and swift. You swoon under him.

Damn, what kind of dream did you stumble into?

When he finally draws back from you, you almost want to drag him back. His expression is enough to send warmth down to your abdomen.

“That’s…. Okay with you?” he asks.

“Okay?” You have to fight from laughing. He would ask like that, wouldn’t he, completely straight. “Yeah, it is. It’s more than okay. I’m just…. So annoyed at myself,” you say, shaking your head.

“I wasted so much time worrying.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” It comes out almost like a whisper.

His eyes glimmer with something dark.

“Did you have… something else in mind, before I go get food?” You ask. Innocent. Trailing your tongue over your bottom lip. Your hand drifts to the buttons of your shirt. As you undo one his gaze falls to your chest.

His breath hitches.

“Yeah. It’s a bit of a surprise,” he admits.

In one smooth move he slips from the couch and tugs you up onto your feet.

Oh my god, was this… was this really happening? Your stomach flips.

Weather tugs you down the hall, towards his and Anasui’s room. Wait—

“D-did Anasui—“

But the man doesn’t pay you any mind, opening the door and bringing you inside.

No fucking shot.

Smirking, eyes narrowed precisely on you, and holding a book you swore you have chucked into the garbage, Anasui reclines on his queen bed— the blankets smoothed down, almost too perfect, a set of silvery handcuffs gleaming on the dark sheets. The shirt he had under his cardigan from earlier is gone, showing off his taut abs and the slight trail of pink hair— down towards— your throat swells.

“Why…. The hell do you have that?”

Your voice goes higher and higher pitched. The pink haired man tilts his head.

“Your favorite roommate actually found it.”

Favorite? Blood rushes to your face. Oh, my god. Wait. The last time you had seen it: the memory of a glass of wine, a night where Anasui and Weather were out somewhere else… Christ. No way. He saw that?

Weather’s hand slides from your waist, to your hip. At your ear, his lips trail down the curve as he brings you closer.

“Forgive me,” he says, in a quiet voice. “But it was interesting. And I’ve--”

“S-stop,” you mumble, covering your face. No, how could they. Christ, why couldn’t you throw yourself off a bridge?

The man at your side doesn’t listen. He kisses down your neck, sliding his hands right under the hem of your shirt-- feather light touches, until he reaches your hips, and lets his fingers cage them. You inhale.

“But I’ve liked you for a while,” Weather replies.

Your chest feels as though it might burst. Letting an eye open, you turn your head away from how absolutely pleased with himself Anasui looks on the bed.

He stretches, in the corner of your periphery. Then, he says,

“If you were curious about those scenes in the book, I’ll give you the chance to try it out. Before you tie yourselves together, of course.”

Curious?

“Sui?”

It’s practically a squeak. He slides from the bed, eyes burning neon pink, approaching you slowly-- almost like a panther stalking its prey.

As Weather’s hand slowly tugs your pants down, his lips leaving a burning trail down the skin of your shoulder, Anasui holds your chin in place, gazing at you. His mouth curls into a smile with sharp incisors. It curls your stomach; blood flushing your face, completely unable to meet his intense look.

“That’s it. Look at me just like that,” he says, soft.

And with that, his mouth slants against yours.

If Weather was languid, savoring every touch and leeching your breath with one kiss at a time, Anasui stole it quickly-- mouth against yours in a way that nearly bruises you, aggressive, plush, soft lips forcing you back into Weather’s hold.

That one holds you steady, despite the tremble of your legs. Against your backside, his erection grows-- christ, he was that big? You whimper into Anasui’s mouth.

He hums, letting his hips roll against yours-- and the bulge at his pants makes your head spin. They couldn’t. There was no way.

He tastes of a sweet, cheap white wine, and briefly you wonder what the hell they were up to when you were gone. But it doesn’t last long. Like they’re telepathic, Weather shuffles you forward and Anasui assists you in coming towards the bed, his hands easily undoing your shirt and slipping it off, letting his thumb under the cup of your bra.

Cool fingers loop into the hooks of it, and it comes loose around your chest, the flesh dropping vulnerable to their touch. Colder air raises goosebumps on your skin.

Before you can be embarrassed, though, one of Weather’s hands comes up to cup your left breast, and Anasui’s covers your other, pinching the nipple between two knuckles; sensitive, there’s nowhere to go as you squirm back into Weather’s chest, ass pressing against the insistent swell of his cock. His finger tips tease over the hood of your clit. You hiss.

“You want to make her feel good?” Anasui directs at the man behind you. Weather exhales, rumbling against your back.

“Yeah. Y/N, would you lay back?” your beloved asks. It’s too nice. Too gentle. But you nod, slowly.

“S-Sure.”

They both move you, carefully, back onto the bed, Anasui giving you one last peck on the lips before roughly flipping you over to lay with your back against his chest.

As cool as Weather is, his counterpart is flush, warm, the two of you practically feverish as your crush drags down your underwear-- and with absolute horror, you watch a thin strand of your arousal stretch between your folds at the fabric. It glistens in the low light.

Weather inhales.

“So wet…” he murmurs.

Stop. Stop. You can’t say it.

“I told you.” Anasui’s chest shudders behind you, as Weather slots himself between your legs and spreads them. “She gets so wet the second you start asserting yourself. You adore him, don’t you?” He asks, and nips at the shell of your ear.

“I--” your voice stops halfway, when Weather raises your hips towards his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze.

Hell… how can you reply? How, when the second he exhales, you would be at his mercy?

The very tip of his tongue brushes your clit.

“That’s the spot. Do it.”

Anasui’s quiet command spurs Weather to lap at the tight bundle of nerves between your thighs; soft continuous kitten licks that make you squirm with soft, pathetic pants. Each tiny bump grazes you.

Steadily, wet, slurping sounds grow in volume, Weather keeping his nose just barely at your clit as his tongue brushes you, poking carefully at your entrance. Thrills of pleasure go up and down your spine-- the nerves of your most sensitive parts exposed to Weather’s careful touch.

Anasui tugs your arms behind you. There’s scraping metal sound. Then, something solid and cold brushes against your wrists.

A tentative movement results in jingling, and you realize your wrists have been cuffed together behind your back. Panic doesn’t do much. Weather’s hands are firm, holding your thighs separate and scooping under the soft wet flesh, your head thrown back against the other man’s chest.

Fuck. Fuck.

“Wea-- Sui!” you wine.

“Yeah?” the latter whispers in your ear. His thumbs pinch at your chest, the ridges of his fingers rolling over your nipples. You can’t protest, hands secured behind you, writhing as Anasui presses you firmly against Weather’s mouth.

The tip of his tongue rolls against your clit again. And again. Again. Licking carefully, intentionally. Fingers push open your folds, exposing your tingling wet cunt to the cold air, one digit prodding at your entrance before slipping in and curling, curious, against your g-spot and making you arch. Gods. Gods, what did he read?!

“All he wants is for you to cum, you know? You should just give in.” The pink haired man behind you murmurs, and you arch your hips into Weather. He moans--the vibrations tingle against your clit.

The finger inside of you rubs a small circle, slow, the white haired man building a rhythm that has your eyes rolling back. Muscles in your gut begin to tighten.

“Mm… fuck, Im—“

“Go on.” Anasui coaches you.

You let out a strangled cry. Shit, would your neighbors hear? If they did, fuck it— delirium overwhelms you, your clit throbbing, each twitch sending waves of pleasure down your body. Each nerve tingles with the feeling of your orgasm, from the sharpness at your pelvis to the tickling down your limbs. Sweaty wrists slip against the metal-- Anasui nips at your neck.

“Good girl. I told you, Weather, she’ll like it even more the second time.”

Second… Time?

But you can’t even manage another word: instead, your throat closes around a scream when Weather’s lips wrap around your puffy bundle of nerves once more.

Anasui hums, pleased as your head presses back against his chest. One of his hands wraps around your neck, the other gripping onto your waist, securing you as the other man eats you like you were his last meal. A nail grazes the vein on the side of your neck. With it, your eyes go back.

“I told him to make it worth the wait. Almost a year of watching you two go back and forth.”

Your spine goes slack, only for him to pull you back up. Weather’s tongue spreads your opening: you cry out.

“Seeing you get fucked out like this though….” The pink haired man muses, and presses a kiss against your temple. “You look very, very pretty like this.”

The wet sounds between your thighs are positively disgusting, tears of shame beading at your eyes, it’s enough for one man to see you like this, but two?

Anasui’s cock presses against your lower back as you slip, helpless as Weather firmly holds your hips open and your pussy vulnerable to his tongue’s assault. Too much. Too much.

After your first orgasm, the feeling of his tongue is more and more intense, curling the appendage around the nub and sucking, bobbing his head back and forth, pushing in another finger and slowly stretching your cunt. Prepping for….

He’s dragging you back towards the edge, your nails digging into your palms. The pink haired man coos in your ear, tongue flicking out to catch the tear trailing down your cheek, and as your thighs practically vibrate around Weather’s head, the pleasure reaches an apex seizing every limb of you.

“Mm…MM!”

The moan is torn from your lips, Weather moaning into your pussy before you cum again.

The muscles are tense, every fiber of your being trembling as you blearily feel Weather withdraw from your pulsing folds, ecstasy dulling every move. Christ. Christ.

“Told you, when she can’t get away it’s even more intense,” Anasui exhales, and cradles your head. It lolls, limp.

“You have em?”

Weather sits back on his heels. Post orgasm, low light in the dull painted room, your eyes practically crossed, you can just make out how heavily lidded his own are— and the shadow of his cock pressing out from his sweats. You swallow.

Behind you, you feel Anasui shrug off his cardigan, his bare chest against your back— lean, wiry even in comparison to the muscular man in front of you. The planes of his pecs as his shirt comes up over his torso, the abs leading down to the V of his hips— and he shuffles out of his pants.

Big. That’s the first thing you register; bigger than you thought. His cock curves up, clean white hair curling at the base. He tugs out a small foil packet, and tears it open.

A thrill goes down your spine. You shift your legs. Was it worth it?

Well….

“Uhm…”

The air freezes. Weather stops dead. Anasui might not even be breathing.

“I’m…” you swallow. Christ it was embarrassing to say this in front of Anasui, but— “I’m uh, on the pill…. If… you want…”

Both of the men inhale sharply. Anasui’s grip on you tightens.

“Are you sure?” Weather asks. His voice is husky, deeper than you’d ever heard it. Between his thighs, his cock twitches.

After a moment, you nod.

“Flip her over.”

At Anasui’s command, Weather turns your hips, and positions you on your knees with your arms still cuffed behind you, making your chest meet the bed.

Roughly, the pink haired man tugs you forward, your cheek now resting on his bare thigh— when did he take his pants off?

Not as big as Weather, but still long. Curved, He grips the base and presses his cock against the side of your face, hard, warm, insistent.

You whimper. Behind you, Weather adjusts your hips to sit up a bit higher. Something warm pokes at your entrance.

“Do you really think you were better than us?” Anasui asks. Sharp, angry even. Was he annoyed?

The cuffs behind you fall off, and, shoulders sore, you attempt to push yourself up a tiny bit, but the man in front of you rises too—standing on his knees and wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pressing your cheek to his dick.

Silver rests around your wrists with no anchor, helpless to his tug; it doesn’t matter. Your chest flutters. Shit.

The head of Weather’s cock splits you open, slow, as he presses into you, with an obvious need you can’t contest. Your jaw falls open, panting— after cumming twice, your legs are positively shot.

Despite it, Weather keeps a secure grip on your trembling hips as he moves himself into you.

When he bottoms out you let out a choked sound and Weather exhales. Fuck.

“So tight…” he murmurs.

“Hasn’t gotten any action unless she’s hiding a dildo. Wouldn’t be surprised.” Anasui lets out a harsh laugh when Weather gives an experimental thrust, making you squeak.

“Cute,” the man behind you murmurs, and pulls out just a little, before rolling his hips into you again.

“So cute,” he confirms.

He begins a rhythm of short, steady thrusts, his hips meeting the soft flesh of your ass with each movement.

Oh gods, the stretch, your insides clench to him and you moan, eyes fluttering. The head nudges against that tender spot inside you with every move, bumping, brushing lightly. Each bit of you sings in pleasure.

Anasui taps the tip of his cock against your lips, patiently.

Oh, hell. One hand cups the back of your head-- the other on your jaw tilting your face up, and you meet those acidic pink eyes again. His smile is cruel.

“Open up.”

As if he pressed a button, you do, tongue lolling out to cushion the velvety tip of his cock sliding into your mouth.

After his talk you half expected him to immediately fuck your throat. But instead, he pushes himself in slow, withdrawing slightly before using your scalp as leverage to push himself further, towards the back of your mouth-- tasting every bit of him, sweat soaked, but clean. Skin against skin. Your heart quivers.

A sharp thrust from Weather jolts you along Anasui’s length, and he exhales. You choke.

“That’s it, so good… you’re gonna take both of us—“ he holds your head steady as he rolls his hips again, his cock filling your mouth as Weather pulls out, hissing— “So damn good, when I’m through—“

And the two of them set a steady, mind breaking rhythm of movement as you’re jostled back and forth between them. Weather pulls out; Anasui pushes down your throat. He withdraws so only the tip is between your lips, only for the other man to shove his cock deep inside your cunt, a tantalizingly mean shove that forces you to keep Anasui in your mouth no matter how much he pulls back. Full. So full. No matter the end, there was no break. Salt and soap fill your nose and the plapping, wet sound of their use… holes stuffed full. Lips bump against his pelvis, trembling. And your eyes roll back.

Plap, plap,

Shit.

Sweat trickles down your spine to the space between your trembling thighs, where Weather holds you in place to take all of him. Each ridge and each curve glides over a new spot to make you whine and gag around Anasui’s dick.

The inside of your cunt clenches around Weather, breaking each inch of your brain and making you cute and pathetic. Too much. Every touch. Too much.

Drooling even-- to anyone else it would look depraved, the liquid beading at your lip. Anasui hisses curses and praises intermingled, Weather is near silent save for the occasional grunt, moan, his hands on your hips tightening as his thrusts become erratic. Your pussy stretches, accommodates him. Blearily, you bob back and forth, sliding your tongue along a vein on Anasui’s shaft that gets him gripping your head tighter. He hisses.

Your body is little more than a toy to them, isn’t it?

The thought makes your eyes roll back.The halogen light flickers in your vision. Your cunt clenches.

“Shit…” Weather gasps.

“So good, so good, were you whoring yourself out when we weren’t looking? Fucking getting ready for this?” Anasui taunts you, irritation lining his tone as he holds you, voice shaking.

Weather says nothing more— just pushes you along. Anashi all but fucking your throat with slow, forceful thrusts as Weather pistons into you, your gut weakly clenching as the pleasure builds again, nothing else, that’s all-/

“You don’t get to do this for anyone else. Understand?” Anasui slaps at your cheek insistently, holding your jaw and forcing himself as far as he’d go, nose brushing his pelvis.

Musk makes you salivate. Your eyes flutter with his words.

“And no one else gets to make you feel. This. Good.”

Weather punctuates each word with a thrust against your g spot, and, with a long cry around the other man’s length you cum around him for the third time that night.

Body trembling. Jaw sore from the effort of holding it open, as Anasui ruts against your lips to the point his hair scratches your lips. Tears and drool mix together down your chin, towards your chest; and your brain may as well be leaking out with it. Esch bit of you begins to melt.

The man in front of you lets out a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl, and as Weather hisses out something behind you, you feel his cock flex as he finishes— pulling out part way through and making you shiver as you feel the warm spurts of his seed against your folds. The warmth fades, slow.

Anasui pulls almost all the way out and starts jerking along the base of his dick, gritting his teeth and slapping the tip against your tongue until he finally sighs, salty, slightly bitter cum covering your tongue and bottom lip.

The liquid pools in your mouth. Hazily, you manage a little bit of a tease by poking out the tip of your tongue, showing off his release. Anasui tchs.

“Swallow, or I’ll make your jaw even sorer.”

Asshole. You do, pressing a hand to your lips.

A fuzzy sensation at your back makes you twitch.

“Sorry,” Weather murmurs. The towel swipes over your ass cheek one more time, catching the stray bits of his climax. Your thighs quiver as you hold— well, it was nice of him at least. Would Anasui get mad if—

“Lay down before you fall,” he says.

That answered that. Carefully, you maneuver to lay on your side, chest heaving as you melt into the cotton.

A hand rests on your hip. The other man’s hand on your temple.

“You felt amazing,” Weather says simply. He traces a nonsense pattern on your thigh; it tickles a little. Warm skin starts to cool; goosebumps raise along your body and you hug yourself close. “Really.”

“Same. To…. Both of you,” you mumble. Hell, um…

“Sorry you saw that book,” you add weakly, hoping Anasui didn’t hear you after all, but the twitch of his fingers implies otherwise.

“Are you?”

It’s teasing, but there’s something under his voice that furrows your brows. A cricket goes off outside. What was he…

Glancing up, he refuses to meet your eyes.

“Well, I guess not. If it meant this happened,” you replyz

“And now you’ve gotten it out of your system.”

“Huh?” Weather and you say it at the same time. As you push yourself up on weak arms— embarrassingly, your crush grabs you to steady you— Anasui glances at you two before sliding off the bed.

“You two can be a pair now. Just treat him well,” he replies.

“Who said… who said anything?” You ask. He tchs.

“Don’t tell me you’re still doing this,” Anasui bites. But his voice. It’s tight. Sharp. It hurts your heart, despite it all.

“W—Anasui.” You sigh, and sit back on your heels.

Ever dramatic. “Can we at least talk about this in the morning? Yeah, I like Weather—“

His hand at your waist twitches as you say so.

“But I know he also needs you,” you finish. Looking at Anasui plainly, you muster as much dignity as you possibly can in the moment, ignoring the feeling of cum between your thighs. Not important. If he looks there, it’s his problem, you say to yourself.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Lets… talk about it later. It’s been a long one. Please?” You ask.

His eyes soften on you, if only for a second. Then they take on the same aloof air as before, and he nods to Weather.

The latter gives you a peck on the cheek. Then, he slides his hands under your back and knees, and, as simple as picking up a ten pound bag of ice, scoops you up.

How? You yelp, scrabbling to grab onto his shoulders, babbling: “Oi, Weather you didn’t—“

“You want a free carry to the shower or not?” Anasui retorts.

This was unrelated, absolutely. You stick your tongue out at him.

“It’s nothing.”

Weather kisses your forehead: soft lips and eyes. Well. Hmph.

All the bubbling annoyance pops and you settle, grumbling, face still flushed as you both follow Anasui out. His steps are muffled by carpet, but you can tell he’s stomping.

“Jerk.”

“You wish.”

“If I wished you were more of an ass, we’d have a donkey as a roommate.”

“Maybe next time then we ought to really stretch you,” the pink haired man muses. “You’re still too coherent if you’re talking to us like this.”

“The hell does that mean?” You bark. Latent in it is the confusion and fear upping the pitch at the end— and it completely ruins the effect.

Damn it all.

Anasui smirks. You glare at him.

“Like what you talked about before..?” Weather asks. As your head snaps to him, Anasui nods.

“Later.”

“Maybe we should talk about it now, actually,” you say, pulse quickening. The hell did they…? You went out for a maximum of two hours?

Weather kisses you again, and you swat at him in good nature. Anasui shakes his head.

“Clean up and eat. But then, maybe.”

“I want to take care of you,” Weather murmurs, before you can contest. Sweet. Honest. He bumps his head lightly against yours.

Sighing, you let your eyes close. Your jaw clenches.

“Fine. But we will talk about it.”

Not that there was much to discuss. The faucet turns on, steam rising. Heat slowly soaks in. Comforting.

Once you couldn’t see, the two men exchanged a look: Weather’s eyes darken, stormlike; and Anasui’s lightening with a grim mischief, where they focused on your wracked form.

Nigh impossible to resist Caesar’s charm. Desperate to cling to your head, even as your heart twinges— his lips pressed against yours tenderly, one hand cradling your head. The other firmly set about your waist, the tip of his pinkie just barely brushes where the waistband of your underwear sits. Citrus scents the breeze. He presses you back lightly, almost as if he wants you to swoon so he has an excuse to sweep you off your feet and carry you to your hotel. Don’t you dare give him a reason, or you’ll wish you’d never met him.

Dio Brando’s ironic name is the furthest from your mind. Or even the shame you should feel letting him trail his fingers over your back, your neck, nails lightly scratching along your pulse point— the same area he’d drained others of their life from many times. But his mouth against your own is tender. Terribly so. The heat of your delectable blood rushes to your head, creating contrast to his cool body pushing yours into the mattress. Just let go. Let him bring you to the glory of his congregation, his fangs scratching your lip; tasting copper as sweet as his stolen silver spoon.

No souvenirs necessary, he’s all you needed— Jotaro’s strong, muscular body caging you just as soon as he set his bags down from Morioh. Lips meeting yours, your arms clumsily wrapping around his neck as he walks you back towards the wall. Just barely, your shoulder misses a framed picture. He tastes of salt, some strong liquor, snagging your bottom lip in his teeth briefly before kissing you again, his palm firmly against the small of your back, fingertips curling against the fabric of your shirt— clinging as if he wishes he could merge with you.

It never needs to be more. Mista could die happy just like this: spine sinking into the soft plush couch and you sitting on his lap, rough fingertips teasing at the hem of your shirt and waistband of your bottoms. As you press into him, he melts back; when his fingers tighten against your flesh, you gasp into his mouth. He’ll swallow every sound. Desperate, clinging, the humid Neapolitan summer air wrapped around your bare torsos. No one is allowed to see his beloved like this, lips parted and eyelids heavy. Shit. He’s in way, way too deep.

Jolyne’s never been one for hesitation, only careful planning— because the way her hands slide up your sides, pin you precisely to the wall by her thumbs, she had to have thought it out beforehand. But there’s no need to think— wrap your arms around her, as you taste her strawberry lime lip balm. She won’t expect if you want to turn the tables, whirling her around and cradling the back of her head from the brick. Really? You just did that? Whatever. Your girlfriend only leverages the position to hook her knee on your hip, pulling you as close to her as she could with the barrier of clothes.