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When most people tell you God and the Devil are fighting over them, they are usually talking about their souls. However, in the case of the man simply known as York, this couldn’t have been further from the truth. At this point, he’s pretty sure that he doesn’t have much of a soul left to fight over; if he believed in souls in the first place that is. See, York is a thief. And a damn good one at that. He tries to avoid killing whenever possible, but in his line of work that isn’t always the case. Because of his occupation, York is sure that if souls do exist, his has got to be tarnished beyond the help of any industrial polish. So no, the two incredibly gorgeous beings currently battling it out in his apartment are not here for his soul.
In fact, York is quite positive their motives are far less pure. No, this war being waged in a crappy 5th floor walk up is a result of jealousy. Plain and simple. York knows this because he is dating both of them. Separately. A fact that neither were aware of until recently. Hey, it’s not York’s fault he has a type they both just happen to fit, along with very loose morals. He’s a thief, after all. He covets rare items, which arguably both men are. How often does one manage to entangle a devil or a god, let alone both? And it’s not like he agreed to being exclusive with either man. So really, nobody can blame him.
But yes, lets get back to the fact that god and the devil fighting over York. Technically, it’s the Greek god of the North Wind, Boreas and an evil spirit the Buddhists refer to as Varsavarti - he who fills desires - but York’s always been a fan of simplicity and symmetry. God and the Devil just sounds better. Not that York knew either of them were anything more than incredibly hot mortals by the names of North and Wash until their current thrown down started. If he had, he would have considered dating only one of them. But here he is, watching his apartment get wrecked by two ridiculously strong immortals duking it out over the rights to his body. Like they really have any say on that matter. York’s snort turns into a grimace as he watches the shorter immortal tackle the well built god through his bedroom wall. There is another crash, followed by an indecipherable string of what could only be cursing.
“Get off me you filth ridden chaos bringer.” North’s rich voice booms through the ruins of the apartment. York laments the loss of his damage deposit silently. There is no way the landlord will relinquish those funds with a huge hole in the wall.
“What did you just call me, windbag?” The pitch of Wash’s voice has increased drastically. His question is punctuated with the sound of something being thrown.
“You heard me. You are nothing but filth. No better than those Incubi, feeding off sex and the desires of others.” The god’s statement is accompanied by a derisive scoff. “I don’t know why you’re still fighting. There is no way a creature like you could even contemplate the nuances of love.”
Another crash signals their exit from the bedroom. This time the smaller blond is the one on the receiving end, sprawled out on top of York’s bedroom door, from its new home in the hallway. The dazed look in his eyes as he stares at North sends York reeling with a sense of Deja Vu. He wracks his brain in an attempt to figure out where he’s seen this scene before and comes up blank. North steps over his fallen opponent with only a minor glance of disgust towards the man. His advance towards York is halted, however, when Wash pulls his legs out from underneath him. Coughing a few times, the devilish being spits blood on the carpet. He struggles to his feet, planting himself defensively as North wipes a trickle of blood from his nose.
York is suddenly reminded of a young knight cleaning blood from his nose with the back of his hand as a stable boy stares at him defiantly. The vision is so clear that York swears he can smell cornflowers. The two boys are arguing.
“Even with all your fortune and arrogance you’ll never be good enough for her.” The stable boy’s voice is oddly reminiscent of Wash’s. He shifts himself into a more defendable position, bringing the broom he’s holding in front of him for protection.
“I’m more suited for her than a filthy stable hand like you. A lady desires protection. You’ve never protected anyone in your miserable little life.” North’s voice rings out from the knight as he disarms the youth that sounds like Wash, sending him sprawling to the ground on his back. “You can’t even protect yourself."
“The lady does not desire your protection, sire.” The boy struggles to his feet, dusting himself off. “She wishes to be able to protect herself. I’ve been teaching her swordplay.”
There is a gasp from the crowd that has gathered. York winces as a strangely familiar female voice rings out. “You liar. How dare you suggest I would partake in such a vulgar activity?”
The resounding smack silences the murmur of the crowd. Only the retort of the knight breaks the silence. “Tough luck stable boy. Maybe next time.”
York is pulled from the memory by the sound of anguish. North has Wash pinned to the wall and the shorter being is sobbing. “Please, please don’t do this. Don’t take him from me again. Even when you lose or you can’t have him you manage to take him from me. Be merciful for once in your damned existence and let me have my turn.”
“We hand an agreement Little Devil. This round there would be no tricks or magic. Just the two of us relying on our own personalities. Instead of honoring that agreement, you went ahead and used a spell.” The god’s anger radiates through his voice. He shakes the other immortal roughly. “What did you cast on him Evil One?”
York gasps as another vision invades his consciousness.
“What did you do?” The tall blond man dressed in a waistcoat demands.
“Just a little spell. It won’t hurt him.” The other blond answers, running a hand through his short hair and adjusting the livery he was wearing. “It’ll help him see what you are really like, how heartless and possessive you are. When he sees the real you he will finally choose me again. He won’t be able to deal with how similar you are to his father.”
“That’s cheating!” The first man exclaims, sounding offended. His look on his face is thunderous. “I should kill you where you stand, Mara.”
“That would only drive him further away from you Boreas. You know how my master abhors violence. And wasn’t it you who stated ‘all is fair in Love and War?'" There is a mocking tone to those words. “Just concede this round to me already and stop wasting your time.”
“You will pay for this Mischievous One. Do not think this is over.” The man spins on his heel, striding off.
There is a moan from behind the shorter man and he whirls around, concern seeping from his posture. The first glance at this man’s face shows that it is eerily similar to Wash’s, demonstrating that their voices aren’t the only things they have in common. “Careful Master. Your head might hurt a little.”
“Mm. What happened, Mara?” There can be no mistaking it this time; that voice belongs to York. The view changes sharply, as if someone is glancing around. It strikes York, for the first time, that maybe he is watching through someone's eyes. Possibly his own. “Where is Boreas?”
“It is going to be alright, sir.” The servant explains soothingly. “Boreas has left and he won’t be bothering you again.”
“Thank you, Mara.” The voice that is not quite York’s voice is full of gratitude. “I can always count on you to be there when I need you most.”
“Of course Master Aubrey. I will be here whenever you need me sir.” The devotion in the man’s voice suggests more than just that of a servant.
“You are a good man, Mara.” York notes the unfettered affection the voice contains as the man who might have been a past version of himself replies.
A bone deep feeling of sorrow and loss overwhelms York, dropping him to his knees. There are hundreds of cycles. He can remember all of them. One for every century since the beginning of humankind. His two lovers forever caught in a battle for his affections. His beloved Varsavarti winning only a handful of times only to have their time together cut short by some disaster orchestrated by the jealous god of the North Wind. Boreas does not abide by any rules. And this time neither will York. After all, he’s broken them a few times before by refusing to choose either of them. This time he won’t settle for just one. Not when he can have them both.
York’s head snaps up at the cry of pain that rebounds through the apartment. There is blood dripping down Wash’s face from a cut above his eye, the bleeding made worse by the fact the spirit is struggling weakly in North’s furious grip. The god shakes him furiously and the other’s head bounces against the wall with a wet crack.
“Do you realize what you have done? If he remembers everything it could disrupt the cycle. He might never be reborn!” The fury in North’s voice is terrifying, but underneath it there is an immense sadness.
“I don’t care!” The devil-like immortal’s voice is shrill, desperate, and slightly hysterical. He takes a calming breath before continuing on, ignoring the tears streaming down his face. “This cycle is driving me mad. Even if I don’t win this time and he picks you, there is a chance I won’t have to fight you again. If he never comes back then I won’t ever have to deal with losing him again. I’m so tired of fighting you; of having you hate me. We could have easily been friends… I could have easily loved you.”
York’s sharp intake of breath directs the attention of them both to him. North’s blue eyes are wide with shock, while sorrow and pain reflect from Wash’s soulful brown orbs. Wash’s admission makes York positive that this will work. He’s not above begging though. “North. North please let him go. Please stop hurting him Boreas. Don’t do this again. Don’t make me choose. I don’t want to choose. I love you both so much.”
York holds eye contact with the taller immortal as North lowers Wash to his feet before letting him go. Wash uses the wall for support, leaning against it as his weak legs shake. The god absentmindedly catches him when the devilish spirit’s legs collapse, an arm wrapping around Wash’s chest to pull the shorter being flush against him without looking away from York. The confusion swimming in the blue eyes softens North’s entire face.
“Then what do you propose we do?” His voice is quiet and careful as he unconsciously adjusts the immortal in his arms. Wash whimpers in pain.
“Well for starters, I think getting my boyfriends medical attention is probably necessary.” York looks them over. His concern only grows as he takes in the extent of their injuries. “I think the sofa is still in a usable condition.”
North takes a step towards the living room, supporting Wash. The movement is greeted with a small gasp of pain before the injured blond bites into his lip. North winces, surveying the other silently to assess the damage. His face darkens with despair as he takes in the injuries he caused. Wash doesn’t heal nearly as fast as the god does it seems. He only hesitates a moment before scooping the Tempter up in his arms in a princess carry. Wash moans in pain, not even protesting the indignity of it.
“Shhh, I know it hurts. I think I broke a few of your ribs, Varsavarti. I don’t think anything vital was damaged but you’re going to be a little sore for a while.” North’s voice is soft and filled with regret. “You have to understand. You’ve always known how to frustrate me. Nothing has ever managed to set my temper off as badly as you do. Not even York. You told me once that I was possessive of York, and that’s true. But I’m not only possessive of him. Seeing the two of you together drives me mad with jealousy.”
A choking noise is released from Wash’s mouth as he flounders for a response. When the words don’t come he buries a hand in North’s hair, tugging him down until their mouths crash together in a violent kiss. The noise the god emits is one of surprised delight. He devours the kiss greedily, licking into Wash’s mouth possessively, exploring every tooth with his tongue. The kiss only ends when North’s hands tighten and Wash breaks away with a hiss of pain.
“I know I’m interrupting a lifetime of repressed feelings, but maybe we should get Wash fixed up before the two of you continue making out.” York suggests pointedly, pressing his hand to the small of North’s expansive back to propel him into the mostly destroyed living room. North turns his head to give York the most brilliant smile he’s ever seen. Returning the smile with one of his own, York reaches a hand out to run it through Wash’s sweaty hair. His hand comes back red with blood, causing him to panic. “Um Wash. Are you feeling OK? Your head is bleeding; you might have a concussion. Wait, can you even get concussions? Oh my god. What if we can’t fix you? Does human medicine work on whatever you are? Please don’t die! Please, I can’t -”
“Calm down, Quy.” Wash intercedes before York can hit full panic attack. “I may not heal as fast Mr. Godly here, but I still heal faster than you mortals do. Take a look, the cut above my eye is already gone.”
York takes a calming breath at the familiar pet name, wiping his hand clean on his jeans before running his hand over the location of the cut. He can feel a slight bump where the skin hasn’t yet settled, but nothing more than that. “Wow. Can anything actually kill you then?”
“There are several weapons that can kill both of us. But they are rare. However, immortal doesn’t mean invulnerable or impervious to pain. We still bleed and hurt and die. It’s just harder to make us do those things.” North explains, laying Wash down on the couch and hovering over him to check over the more serious wounds. “Varsavarti may not heal as fast as I do, but he has even less things that can kill him than I do. Being a god means you make far more enemies than a spirit who fulfills sinful desires.”
"Speaking of sinful desires..." Wash props himself up on his elbows to wink at York. “Come here please York. I would appreciate a kiss or two. I am injured after all.”
York perches himself on the edge of the sofa, leaning across Wash to place a soft kiss on his lips. Wash grabs hold of York’s shirt as he collapses backwards, pulling York on top of him. His small grunt of pain is smothered by their still connected mouths. North hears it anyway and glances up sharply to scold them. “Be more careful. Varsavarti doesn’t need any more bruises and his ribs aren’t healed yet.”
Wash breaks the kiss to apologize with a cheeky grin. “Sorry Boreas. My arms just got a little tired.”
North winces at the name, unintentionally snapping at Wash. “Don’t call me that.”
The grin slowly slides off Wash’s face and he pulls away from North's touch. His tone chills significantly.“Sorry sir. I won’t use your fucking name anymore.”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just hate that name with a passion. It reminds me of times best forgotten.” The sadness that lingers in North’s voice as he explains has Wash relaxing again. “Just call me North like York does. I like this name better.”
“If that’s the case, then just refer to me as Wash. Might as well make it par for the course right?” Wash smirks wickedly, winking at North. “New names for a new start. From now on the only battles we have are for who gets to top.”
“Whoa, no way.” York shakes his head firmly. “We take turns doing that, and sort it out by rock, paper, scissors like normal people. I can’t afford to remodel my apartment every time we decide to have sex. Especially considering I intend to have a lot of it. I’m very greedy, you know?”
North leans over to drag him into a fierce kiss at that comment. When they break apart North’s voice is heavy with desire. “Is it too early to get started on that?”
“Absolutely not!” Wash encourages. “My ribs are a little tender still, but if you two get started I’ll be ready to go before it’s over. Until then I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show. Make sure it’s a good one though, OK York?”
The mortal scoffs. “The two of you are pretty eager suddenly.”
“You try having sexual tension thicker than ocean fog for millennia.” Wash responds, scooting up the couch to lean against the armrest. “Now… Less talking, more nakedness. Let me see a strip tease or something.”
North pulls his shirt off in response, his olive toned skin stretching over impressive pecs. Wash’s eyes rake across his arms and chest before focusing on North’s well defined abs. York teasingly smirks back at him his fingers trace the path that Wash’s eyes previously blazed. North releases a soft moan when blunt nails drag across his stomach, causing Wash’s gaze to snap back to the god’s face. The Fulfiller of Desires wets his lips in anticipation as the other blond reaches over to remove York’s shirt.
“It just occurred to me that we have yet to properly punish you, York.” North’s voice is low and serious, filled with a dark desire that makes Wash’s veins sing in response. “You played us both, and neither of our kind are exactly forgiving. You might have to beg.”
“Making him beg isn’t much of a punishment, if you ask me.” Wash chimes in. “Maybe we should spank him before he gets down on his knees.”
York swallows, quivering with desire as the two immortals scrutinize him, considering their choices. They trade a brief look before North takes charge of the situation, barking out an order. “Take your pants off and come here.”
York scrambles to obey, fumbling to undo his belt before shedding his pants quickly. In the thirty seconds it takes him to get naked, North has already shifted his attention to Wash, straddling him on the couch. York watches as the two blonds kiss passionately, North’s hands slipping under Wash’s shirt to explore the soft skin beneath. He can’t tear his eyes away as those hand slide further up Wash’s chest, revealing his freckle dotted creamy skin that is just a shade above ivory as the shirt bunches under Wash’s armpits. When North’s left hand reaches Wash’s nipple, he pinches it, rolling the bud between his fingers. Wash arches into North, breaking their kiss as his head flops back in an indecent moan.
York can’t help giving himself a few strokes at the sound, adding his own noises to the mix. This draws the attention of both his lovers. North ignores him for a moment, leaning down to sink his teeth into Wash’s neck, sucking a deep bruise onto the pale canvas of skin while Wash holds eye contact with York. The god pulls away, taking a moment to scrutinize his work, before focusing on the aroused man standing in front of them.
“Come here." North demands, shifting to sit beside Wash on the couch. York quickly covers the space in a two strides. As soon as he's within grabbing distance, he finds himself dragged face down across North's lap. One of North’s huge hands presses into York's lower back, pinning him securely. York wiggles, testing the hold he's in. The movement causes his cock to brush against the god's jean covered thigh. He lets out a needy moan.
A hand, smaller and softer than North's, ghosts up the back his thigh to rest on the left cheek of his ass. Wash gives York's ass a quick squeeze before removing the hand, only to return in a moment later with a quick smack. York gasps, trying to focus on Wash's words. His tone is conversational, revealing only the tiniest tinge of want. "York really does have a perfect ass, hey North? I wonder if he'll keep quiet during his punishment?"
York can feel the full bodied response of North's chuckle. The god's hand strikes the opposite cheek, driving York forward so his groin grinds into North's leg. North's amused response is almost drowned out by the moan the mortal makes. "I highly doubt York has the capacity to stay silent in any situation, let alone this one."
"Hey!" York's indignant response is interrupted by groan as Wash lays down another sharp slap, the sound of skin on skin contact echoing deliciously. "Fuck you guys. Maybe I just don't want to stay quiet."
"Mouthy.” York curses, unable to stop himself from rutting against North’s leg when the deity lands a forceful spank, immediately followed by one from Wash. The smirk on Wash’s face is evident in his next question. “We can’t have that, can we North?”
“Of course not.” The reply is uttered in a dark purr as York is jostled forward again when North’s hand descends. The actions after Wash’s next spank causes a startled gasp. Instead of removing his hand immediately, the devil traces his finger along the cleft of York’s ass, pausing to rub roughly at his entrance. The hand North is using to pin York presses down harder as the man squirms, keeping him from the delicious friction that North’s thigh offers; the other hand continues to strike his already red bottom. Wash’s finger carries on after a moment, applying a slight pressure to York’s perineum before stopping frustratingly short of his balls. York lets out an embarrassing mewl.
“Wash… North… please.” York sobs out, frustrated by the lack of attention to his cock.
“No, no. That really won’t do, now will it?” The underlying desire is evident in the friendly tone North takes as he ignores the request. His hand smooths over York’s stinging rear, before landing two blows in quick succession. “What do you propose we do to silence him, Wash?”
“We could gag him.” Wash suggests over another tortured sob. His finger has returned to circling York’s hole, alternating between barely there presses and hard rubs. “But I feel like that might be a missed opportunity. After all, you did say you wanted him to beg.”
“That I did.” North replies over York’s wordless pleading. “Maybe it’s time to put him on his knees.”
The pressure lets up on York’s back, but before he can react Wash wraps an arm around his hips, pulling him from North’s lap. A soothing hand runs up his arm when York whimpers with need. North shifts on the couch, undoing the fly of his jeans and peeling them off to reveal his long, lithe legs. His boxer briefs follow and York’s attention is suddenly caught up on the Greek god’s hard and impressive length. He swallows, throat suddenly dry with anticipation as North settles back.
“He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? Definitely has the body of a god.” The hand on his hip squeezes lightly, Wash pressing his mouth to York’s ear as he drags him down so they are both kneeling. “And gods are meant to be worshipped from one’s knees, York.”
A strategically placed hand forces York to catch himself on his hands or do a face plant. Wash answers his glare with a satisfied smirk. York opens his mouth to spit out a snarky reply, only to be interrupted by North clearing his throat. After regaining York’s attention, North beckons him over. York crawls over to him complaining the entire way, ignoring the tap of encouragement Wash plants on his ass. “This is degrading. I’m not your servant or toy. I liked it better when you were trying to win me over.”
“York… Stop whining and put your mouth to better use. Or would you prefer to watch from the sidelines? I’d willingly switch you places.” Wash admonishes, palm pressing against York’s smarting backside to propel him forward the last half a foot.
York shoots a glare over his shoulder before settling between North’s knees. His eyes latch onto the unclouded desire burning in the icy blue eyes of the blond looming above him. York’s voice comes out more breathless than the whine he intended it to be. “Why is he still fully dressed, North? That’s soo not fair!”
“Hmm. I agree.” North’s thumb strokes gently across York’s cheek before his hand cups the back of York’s head, tugging him down so his lips are touching the head of North’s shaft. “Open up so I can put your mouth to use doing something more suitable than whining. Wash can rectify that problem while you practice your worshipping skills. Later on I plan on helping you pray.”
York opens his mouth obediently, allowing North to feed him his cock. Shuffling and the sound of clothing being kicked to the side comes from behind him, before a hand strokes up his inner thigh, reaching between his legs to give his member a few strokes. York groans around North and the resulting vibrations cause the deity’s hips to buck, burying himself deep in York’s throat. A low moan falls from North’s lips as the brunette's throat constricts when his gag reflex reacts. He allows York to pull back and catch his breath, the hand not cradling the back of his head pressing against his cheek, thumb tracing the corner of York’s widely stretched open mouth.
“Holy hell, the two of you look incredible.” Wash groans, hand leaving York’s dick to cup the man’s balls. This causes York to moan again, North thrusting up in response. Wash grins at his new found control. “Oh. That’s interesting. Hey North? Would you like me to prepare York for your next lesson?”
This time the noise emitted from North’s throat has nothing to do with York’s mouth. “Oh glorious Zeus, please yes. The two of us would, ah… very much enjoy that, I believe.”
York hums his agreement, swallowing down the expected thrust as North grips his hair tightly. Wash makes a pleased noise in response, disappearing for a moment only to reappear with a bottle of lube. Kneeling behind him, Wash places a nip to the top of York’s ass before he spreads his cheeks apart. York squeaks, North’s prick only muffling the sound slightly. Both men shoot Wash shocked looks as North groans. “What did you just do? The resulting sensation was… unexpected.”
Wash replies with a wink before licking a wet strip from York’s balls to his entrance. The shocked gasp turns into a low moan before York mumbles curses around North. Wash breathes out against the wetness his tongue left behind. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, York. It’s bad manners.”
“God dammit Wash, stop teasing and hurry up. I’d really like to fuck him now.” North requests, sharp tone lowering into a moan when York reacts to Wash’s tongue again.
“Your wish is my command.” Wash teases, coating his fingers liberally in lube. York inhales sharply through his nose when Wash inserts the first finger, twisting and crooking it to stretch York’s hole. North distracts him from the discomfort by tugging sharply on his hair as he slides cock almost completely out of York’s mouth. He thrusts back in deeply when Wash adds a second finger, hitting the back of York’s throat a second before Wash curls his fingers to press against York’s prostate. North pulls away in alarm as York chokes. Wash ignores his predicament however, scissoring his fingers as he works him open efficiently. A third finger is quickly added as North checks York over carefully.
“Are you OK, love?” Concern coats North’s voice as thumbs swipe the spit from York’s chin.
“Oh, mmm yeah I’m good. Oh god, fantastic even.” York’s voice is low and hoarse, chasing away the shadow of worry from North’s eyes. Any emotion other than want is banished following York’s desperate next words. “Oh - please fuck me North. I need something more than Wash’s fingers in me.”
Wash pulls his fingers from York with a squelch. He tosses North the bottle of lube. “He’s all ready for you, North. Can I request he ride you? I’d enjoy that.”
Twin choruses of agreement are voiced before York pushes himself unsteadily to his feet. Wash wraps a steadying arm around his chest, leaning in to steal a quick kiss. A kiss that York immediately deepens. Wash breaks away after a moment, gently steering York into North’s arms. The god surges upwards to capture York’s lips in a possessive kiss, greedily licking the lingering taste of Wash out of his mouth. When they break apart, panting for breath, North pauses briefly to contemplate something before pulling York down into his lap as he sinks back down onto the couch. He man-handles York, adjusting him so that he’s in a position facing Wash. Sliding his hands under the mortals legs, he lifts York onto his throbbing length, waiting patiently as the man slides slowly down his cock until he’s fully seated.
Once North is sure York is comfortable, he gestures to Wash. “Come here, Little Devil. Don’t think I’m going to leave you out.”
Wash raises an eyebrow, cautiously moving into North’s arm range. York’s chuckle turns into a moan as North shifts behind him to snatch Wash’s wrist, pulling him in close. Wash goes willingly enough, sealing his lips against North’s in an enthusiastic kiss that causes York to squirm with impatience. Wash inhales North’s moans as the taller blond rolls his hips against York’s ass in a shallow thrust. York places his hands on Wash’s waist, guiding him down so he’s situated across North’s thighs, tossing his own legs over Wash’s as the freckled spirit wraps his around North’s back. North grunts his approval into Wash’s mouth, releasing his wrist to clutch York’s hips tightly as he raises the man almost all the way off his cock before pulling him down, meeting his descent with a hard upward thrust. York buries his face into Wash’s shoulder, using it to stifle the moans being dragged out of him from the brutal pace North has set.The two immortals continue to make out above his bowed head, despite the fact that he occasionally collides with Wash’s chin.
After one particularly harsh bump, Wash breaks away, dropping the hand from behind North’s head to brace himself against York’s thigh. He scoots forward slightly, shifting his position carefully so that his length is aligned with York’s. After a few attempts at trying to match North’s thrust with his own, Wash drops his hand from the deity’s shoulder to loosely grip his own cock and York’s. His hand isn’t quite big enough, but the friction it provides has York moaning wantonly. York lets his head fall back against North’s shoulder. The god places an open mouthed kiss to his temple, moaning quietly into his ear when York wraps an arm around his neck. His hand leaves York’s hip to join Wash’s hand on their cocks. His thrusts stutter as he changes his angle, searching for that sweet spot. It only takes a few experimental thrusts before North finds it.
“Oh.” York moans loudly, his whole body tensing in pleasure. North thrusts in at that angle again, a muttered litany. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”
Wash laughs in delight. “Sorry York, that’s not a full prayer. You - mmm - You’ll have to - ah - do better than that.”
“Wash is right.” North grunts out, fist tightening around them in a minor reward and causing Wash to moan softly. “That isn’t quite enough. Try again, and maybe I’ll grant you your release.”
“You guys - ohhhh. You guys are assholes.” York mutters in discontent. North gives a shallow thrust, stopping just short of York’s prostate. “Oh. OK, OK please North, oh god please. Please god, fuck me harder, properly. Please let me come.”
North releases the hand around the two cocks, moving it back to York’s hip as he thrusts hard into the bundle of nerves that makes York see stars. Wash adjusts his grip as well, letting his dick slip free to focus on York’s. North slams up into him again, growling into his ear. “That’s almost right. But is that how you usually end your prayers?”
It only takes a few more strokes of Wash’s hand and a quick set of thrusts from North before York is screaming out his release as he coats Wash’s hand and their stomachs with his seed. “Oh god! Ohh my god. Thank you, thank you!”
North continues to pump roughly into York, thrusts stuttering and uneven as he chases his own orgasm. He reaches around to swipe his hand through the cooling liquid on York’s chest before batting Wash’s hand away from his own cock, closing his hand around him.
Wash moans. “God damn North, that’s fucking so hot.”
York hums in agreement, exhaustedly pressing opened mouth kisses across Wash’s collar bone, lapping up a drop of sweat pooled there. He sways forward as North slams into him a few more times before releasing a deep, shuddering moan as he empties himself inside York. It only takes Wash a couple extra squeezing strokes from North before he reaches his climax as well, come mixing with York’s as it splatters across North’s hand and their chests.
Wash settles a hand over the one North still has on York’s hip, offering it a light squeeze before he extracts himself from under York’s legs to collapse next to the two on the couch. The motion causes the mortal to whimper, muscles overstimulated and exhausted. North lifts him gently, allowing his softening shaft to slip out, before gathering York to his chest. Leaning down, he places a tender kiss on the man’s lips before reaching out for Wash. The spirit melts into North’s embrace, gladly accepting the offered kiss. The god runs his hand through the shaggy sweat soaked hair on Wash’s head, sighing happily.
“Love you.” York mutters sleepily. “Both of you. Gotta be the luckiest man to have ever lived on this planet.”
North grins down at him. “You most definitely are. But that makes me one lucky god.”
“Bullshit.” Wash snorts. “How many times have you told me there is no such thing as luck? Only skills and destiny. Either you have mad romancing skills or we finally interpreted our destinies right.”
“I only told you that so you’d stop bitching about my luck every time I won.” North chuckles. “So just admit that you’re lucky and lets get back to cuddling.”
“You are such a dick.” Wash gives North’s shoulder a playful shove, jostling York out of his doze.
“Ugh. I’m sticky.” York groans, wincing as he stretches. “And sore. Is the bathroom still standing?”
“Uhh… Yeah.” Wash glances around sheepishly. “We kind of destroyed the rest of it though.”
“A shower would be good.” North states quietly. “And then I think we should go back to my place to sleep.”
York slips out of his lap, limping towards the bathroom. “Well we definitely can’t stay here.”
“My place has a hot tub!” Wash offers, scrambling after York. “And a king-sized bed.”
“Never mind North’s then.” York states agreeably. “We’ll be camping out at Wash’s for a while.”
“Agreed. A hot tub sounds fantastic right about now.” North smiles softly, stretching out his back.”
“Hah!” Wash grins at him, stealing a quick kiss. “Finally I win!”