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Alcryst's skin burns with every drag of Alfred's fingers along his sides. Heat floods his veins, shooting straight through his stomach, enveloping his chest, and exploding like a firework across his cheeks when those fingers move up to grasp his chin, turning it upwards ever so slightly. He's all but forced to look directly at Alear, then, and Alcryst wants to apologize.
For not being good enough. For not foreseeing this arrangement and doing the work ahead of time to prepare himself. For not being worthy enough to take the Divine Dragon without Alfred warming him up.
"Ah-ah-ah." Alfred releases Alcryst's chin, moving his hand to rest on Alcryst's hip instead. "Please do not think so hard. Relax. Just be."
Alear looks at Alfred over Alcryst's shoulder. His eyes are so kind that Alcryst wants to shield his own, but he knows Alfred would scold him if he did. He can handle scolding better than praise, but neither are preferable in this situation, and Alcryst so desperately wants to know how those two can exchange so much in just a glance.
A perfectly-timed curl of Alear's fingers forces Alcryst's eyes closed no matter how badly he wants to keep them open and pick apart everything he can from the way they look at each other. All that leaves him is a high whine; he's still much too sensitive from Alfred's treatment of him earlier.
"Sorry, Alcryst," says Alear. "Did that hurt?"
His mind betrays him and tells him that Alear must be stupid if he thinks that hurt. There is no way Alear cannot tell how badly Alcryst wants right now. Wants to take, wants to speak, wants to be good. Two of the three seem impossible at the moment, and Alear is in no hurry to give much of anything. Alcryst is sure he will be stuck in a limbo like this until he dies a pathetic, miserable death: alone, just like he deserves—
"What did we say about thinking, Alcryst?" Alfred's voice, like honey, is much closer to his ear now than it was before. His breath comes in short puffs, as if he hadn't already spent himself hardly twenty minutes ago. "You should answer him. Tell him how it feels."
"N-No!" Alcryst cries, much too suddenly, and then, "N-No, it didn't hurt."
Alfred rewards him and says, "Very good."
It makes him dizzy just like it had before, just like it had when Alfred told him he'd praise him as many times as it took for him to start believing it. There's something about all of that that shamefully mixes with self-deprecation and produces a chemical reaction of arousal. Alear moves his fingers again and sends sparks dancing up along Alcryst's spine. His hips jerk, and he really thinks he might come before Alear takes his fingers out entirely.
"I think you're ready," says Alear, taking in the full sight of him, leaking from his cock and so entwined with Alfred that they're nearly breathing in sync with one another. "How do you feel?"
Answering a simple yes or no question was hard enough; now Alear expects him to have enough wit about him to formulate his own answer! Alcryst's luck can't get worse. At least with Alfred, all he had to do was listen to him speak and do his best not to cry at every kind word. He had been so focused on them, and now he can't even remember half of what Alfred had told him. Some good he is!
"Alcryst," Alfred prompts, always at precisely the right time. "Please, feel free to say whatever is on your mind."
Hazily, he says, "Empty."
Alcryst expects the process of the Divine Dragon disrobing to take at least twenty minutes, but spurred on by Alcryst's answer, he sheds layers quickly. He has the same look in his eye now as he does when he's laser focused in on his next target, and Alcryst heart races, and Alfred is kind enough to take one of his hands and press a kiss to it. Alcryst hadn't even thought about how neglected Alear must feel, when both he and Alfred have had their fills and Alear himself had only just now joined in on the two of them.
Alcryst can't take the sight of Alear for a moment longer. He turns his head into Alfred's shoulder, but as soon as he does, Alfred grasps his chin again, turning his face forward.
"I know it's overwhelming," Alfred says, "but I think you might regret it if you keep yourself from looking."
Alfred is much firmer this time, like Alcryst has no choice whether or not to look. It is thrilling, in a sense, to have little choices like that taken away from him. He knows on some level that it's Alfred's way of gently discouraging the thinking he's been steering Alcryst away from this whole time.
It is working, Alcryst thinks, in a corner of his mind he consistently tries to quell. It is working, and he thinks he might be able to get used to things like these.
Alcryst spreads his legs wider when Alear slots himself between them, and it is only now that Alcryst gets a sense of how big Alear is. The way Alfred spoke about him, Alcryst had the impression that Alear was otherworldly. He isn't quite monstrous like the image Alcryst had conjured in his head, but it makes him more intimidating. Something monstrous, and Alcryst would have been content to die upon impact. But something like this, where Alcryst can imagine himself stretching around it, is dangerous in a different way.
This is something Alcryst could want again. This is something Alcryst could need again.
"I can't," Alcryst whines, insincere.
Alfred just shushes him, soothes him with a few loose strokes.
The initial push is the most difficult part, and Alcryst must watch all of it. Alear's eyebrows knit together at first, and then Alcryst gives way, and Alear's eyes soften, gazing at Alcryst like he is some kind of treasure. Alcryst can almost believe it, can almost believe that he is the first and only one to push the Divine Dragon into this sort of state.
Almost.
Alcryst's panting gets breathier, more vocal the further Alear pushes in. He really thinks he cannot take another inch when Alear stops moving, and the thrill of being pushed to his limit overtakes any remaining anxiety Alcryst had left over about it. Alear naturally hits where Alfred had to work to reach. There is nothing more that Alcryst has to give, and Alear is ready to continue to take.
For a moment, he doesn't mind the way Alear holds his thighs in a way that will bruise, or how Alfred is holding his chin, or how the both of them have been looking at them like they want to devour him ever since Alcryst walked into the room that evening.
"Look at you," says Alear. "Beautiful."
"I knew you could do it," Alfred says.
The praise, in tandem with Alear beginning to actually, properly move sends Alcryst straight over the edge for the second time in an hour. This time, he is untouched, save for when Alfred realizes what's happening and rushes to squeeze out every last drop from the tail end of it. Alear does not lessen up; if anything, he gets a look in his eye that suggests that he is going to give more, and Alcryst goes limp against Alfred's chest.
He will apologize later, for not having anything more to offer Alear.
But for now, while Alear has his way with him, he is content just being.