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Felix didn’t know how much time had passed.
It could have been five minutes, or fifty minutes since Toa had left him alone in the tent. The wizard exhaled shakily, teetering on the knife-edge between tranquility and anticipation. He made a mental checklist—a grounding exercise Toa taught him—trying to anchor himself in his bindings instead of the anxious flutter in his chest.
Rope hugged his torso in a lattice of firm, deliberate pressure—squeezing him where his breath pushed against it. His wrists—bound and secured to his sternum—rose and fell with every trembling inhale. His legs were folded tight, the rope tying his ankles to his thighs biting into tender skin.
They didn’t blindfold him because they needed him helpless.
They blindfolded him because he’d asked.
Felix swallowed, barely able to hear past the rush of blood in his ears. The air in the tent was close—thick with the smell of hemp fibers and the oil that Caprice had spilled earlier in his excitement. The bedroll beneath him was firm, steadying. A lantern hung somewhere to his left—its heat flickering warm and its light seeping faintly around the edges of the cloth Toa had knotted tight over his eyes.
He tensed experimentally. The movement shifted the heavy glass plug inside him more firmly into place. It sat snug—weighty and unyielding—stretching him just enough that he could never entirely forget it, but not enough to consume his thoughts. Felix gave a small, indulgent wiggle before forcing himself still again.
He knew Toa and Caprice were near, waiting. It was part of the plan—or at least the part Felix knew about.
He’d asked for this—nearly begged for it.
He’d asked them to use him, to push him further than ever before.
Felix inhaled deep, attempting to clear his mind again. Now, all that remained was to just… feel.
The tent flap rustled.
Felix turned his head instinctively toward the sound. That gravitational pull—his body recognizing Toa before his mind did—tugged at him, drawing him toward the soft, deliberate presence of the man who could break him but never would.
A warm breath caressed his cheek.
Felix flinched. Toa had moved silently—closer than Felix realized, close enough that his heat washed over Felix’s face.
“You’re already breathing too quickly,” Toa whispered, his voice warm with a hint of hunger.
Felix’s lips parted around a soft, startled gasp. The goliath’s tone rolled along his spine, arousal coiling hot in his belly. Felix’s lungs fought him—his chest rising even faster with those words, the cords around his ribs tight against every inhale.
Soft footfalls followed—lighter, quicker—scuffing in the dirt as they fidgeted. Caprice’s voice drifted over them, breathless and reverent.
“Fuck… he’s stunning.”
Toa hummed low in agreement. Felix’s pulse spiked, fluttering in his neck. All his rehearsed mindfulness dissolved.
A large palm smoothed over his hair, then settled heavy and warm over his heart.
“Easy. Let us take you slow.”
A thumb pressed into the center of Felix’s sternum, right where his breath trembled. Warmth radiated from his palm, and Toa’s pulse was steady—matching breaths Felix couldn’t see but could feel. Felix tried to follow, but his lungs shuddered—too eager, too tight.
Toa let the tremor happen.
Then he adjusted.
His hand slid down, skimming the lattice of hemp crossing Felix’s ribs until he found one strand that needed tightening. Without a word, Toa pinched the cord between two fingers and slowly drew it taut.
Felix gasped. The rope bit deeper—perfect pressure, familiar and new all at once—pulling his ribs inward so that his next inhale stuttered on the threshold of restraint.
Toa hummed, satisfied.
Caprice stood nearby, his breath sharp with awe. Felix sensed the tiefling’s presence in the faint shift of air, and the soft jingle of copper bangles on his wrists.
But Caprice didn’t dare approach yet.
Felix’s heart battered beneath his bound hands. The blindfold made everything louder—pulse, breath, the subtle scrape of Toa’s thumb brushing along the rope.
Toa leaned over him, fingers following the crossed cords under Felix’s back. He tugged—firmer this time—to settle the whole harness more snugly around his torso. The pressure wrapped around him like strong, deliberate hands.
Felix’s breath burst out in a shaky exhale. He arched, pressing into Toa’s work.
“Easy,” Toa said again. “Let your body relax into it.”
Felix tried. Gods, he tried.
But every place Toa touched—every rope he shifted—sent sparks racing under his skin. His thighs quivered where the ties held his legs bent tight, muscles already beginning to ache in a way that thrilled him.
“What do you feel?” Toa asked.
He heard Caprice take a tiny step closer to listen, breath catching.
“…it’s not enough,” Felix said before he could stop himself.
Caprice gasped softly.
Toa’s fingers skimmed the rope around Felix’s wrists, testing the give. “Not enough,” he said thoughtfully. “…but already too much?”
Felix gave a small nod.
“That’s okay.” Toa’s tone warmed. “We’ll get you there.”
A hand slid beneath his shoulders, grounding. Toa guided him upright a fraction, aligning him just where he wanted him.
Felix leaned into the touch immediately. A soft sound slipped from him, needy. His head tipped back, the blindfold swallowing everything except the heat of Toa’s arm around him.
Caprice inhaled sharply. “He’s… incredible,” he whispered, unable to contain himself.
Toa didn’t move away. He didn’t hurry. He let Felix shake, let him breathe around the strain and the anticipation building in his core.
Then, with gentle firmness—quiet enough to steady, heavy enough to break him open:
“You’re doing very well. Holding steady like this. Not rushing. Not asking.”
Felix whimpered before he could swallow it down. Toa’s fingers traced along the rope caging his chest.
“Good boy.”
The wizard’s whole body shuddered—one sharp, rippling wave—and Caprice made a small, involuntary noise, like witnessing something rare and sacred.
Toa shifted behind him, the ropes creaking softly as he sat Felix upright. A large hand cupped the back of his neck, guiding him down until Felix felt the firm muscle of Toa’s thighs beneath him.
“Lie here,” Toa said.
Felix folded into Toa’s heat, body obeying instantly. His bound hands trembled lightly as Toa drew him onto his lap, cradling his head and shoulders. The scent of Toa’s body enveloped him. The salt of his skin, the faint coconut oil woven into his hair.
Felix exhaled through his nose slowly as Toa stroked his arms in long, grounding passes.
“That’s it,” he murmured.
A thumb brushed the edge of Felix’s jaw. Another stroke followed, soft and loving. Felix’s breath wavered ever so slightly.
Toa’s touch didn’t wander far. The pads of his fingers skimmed Felix’s cheek, tracing the outline of his mouth, the bridge of his nose, the length of his throat—mapping him, admiring him. Felix leaned into every point of contact like a plant turning towards the sun.
Caprice hovered nearby—breath trembling, tail coiling behind him. His fingers flexed uselessly at his sides, itching to touch, to help, to do. But he stayed put, waiting—eyes wide and bright.
Toa’s hand paused mid-stroke.
“Caprice,” he said without looking away from Felix. “He needs your touch.”
The tiefling gasped with excitement, then moved—careful, devout—as if approaching an altar. He knelt beside them, hands hovering.
“Where?” he asked, voice thin.
Toa guided one of Caprice’s hands with a finger, settling it on Felix’s knee. “Here.”
Felix sighed at the new contact. Caprice stroked tentatively—fingertips sweeping over the hemp biting into Felix’s legs, then along the curve of his hip. The tiefling’s shoulders trembled with the effort not to rush.
“Not too much,” Toa reminded him quietly.
Caprice nodded and caressed Felix’s waist, the outside of his thighs, his bound ankles. Gentle touches tracing rope. Leaving heat. Not claiming—offering.
Felix panted softly, matching the rhythm of the hands on him—one pair large and grounding, another small and trembling.
“Good,” Toa said as Felix’s body softened, breath syncing with theirs rather than fighting it. “That’s it. Feel us.”
The lantern flickered low as the men sat in silence. Felix’s trembling eased, his chest rising in smoother waves beneath the pressure of the harness. He rested his head against Toa’s thigh, trusting their hold around him.
Toa felt the shift—felt the surrender deepen. No longer fragile. Only then did he turn his gaze away.
He gave a small nod to Caprice—a silent signal.
Caprice’s breath hitched. He nodded back—swallowing hard—and dropped his hands lower.
Toa kept Felix in his lap, one palm stroking down the wizard’s ribs as Caprice curled his fingers around the base of the plug.
Felix stiffened.
Toa’s voice was a breath against his ear. “Easy. We’re right here.”
Caprice waited, holding perfectly still until Felix relaxed once more.
Only then did he pull.
The swell of the glass stretched Felix open, dragging a low grunt from him. Caprice watched, transfixed. When he released the plug, it sank back into Felix with a quiet, liquid slide. His eyes went wide and bright.
Toa’s lips quirked faintly—amused, approving—as he watched Caprice take in the sight.
Felix shifted his hips—breath catching—but said nothing.
Caprice flicked his gaze up at Toa, smiling in open wonder. He did it again—pulling the plug partway out, watching Felix tighten around the glass, then letting it glide back in. Felix’s muscles tensed and relaxed around it—a tremor running through his thighs, his belly fluttering.
Caprice wasn’t known for being patient.
On the next pull, he didn’t stop.
The plug slid free with a wet sound and a soft gasp from Felix. Warm oil followed, glistening as it ran down the cleft of his ass. Caprice scrambled to catch it with his fingers—spreading it over Felix’s entrance, then slicking his own length in hurried strokes.
Felix hadn’t processed the sudden emptiness—before Caprice’s hands gripped his hips.
And in one fluid, hungry movement, Caprice pushed inside him.
Felix moaned, head thrown back over Toa’s thigh as Caprice seated himself fully. The stretch, the sudden fullness, the overwhelming heat forced his bound wrists to jerk at his sternum.
Toa’s hands caught him instantly—one bracing his shoulder, the other cupping his jaw, steadying him.
“Shhh,” Toa soothed, voice rich and low as a heartbeat. “Breathe, Felix. We know what you need.”
“F-fuck,” Felix whimpered—half shock, half pleasure—and Toa’s thumb stroked the corner of his mouth, guiding him through the first trembling waves of sensation.
Caprice didn’t move right away.
Not for lack of wanting—his breath fanned hot against Felix’s shoulder, buried deep between his bound legs—but because he knew better. This was the part where Felix needed a moment to catch the world again.
And because Toa had told him beforehand to wait. So he did.
Barely.
Caprice swallowed hard, fingers flexing against Felix. “Shit,” he said, voice breaking. “You f-feel—Felix, you feel perfect.”
His hands devoured pale skin—his legs, his waist, the soft flesh of his belly. He purposefully avoided the place Felix wanted most. He needed them to draw it out. To savor him. To use patience as pressure.
“So warm,” Caprice breathed. “So soft. Taking me so—fuck—so well.”
Felix groaned, giving into the praise. His mind drifted, slipping into that soft, dangerous space where his body spoke louder than thought. He shuddered, everything feeling bigger—heavier—in his dark world.
Caprice leaned forward to brace a hand on the bedroll, gripping the rope around Felix’s chest. Pulling him down just a little, his hips rolled shallowly inside him. The movement forced a noise out of Felix—small, high, wavering.
The bard found his rhythm quickly, moving with a fluid grace that made Felix melt around him. Every thrust was deliberate, stretching him with measured presses.
Toa’s hand remained on Felix—feeling the quick, frantic flutter of his heart. The goliath stroked his collarbone with slow, grounding passes of a thumb.
Felix felt himself falling into them. Into being taken, unable to reach for them. Into being used with such precision and care that it felt like being made new. Heat pulsed low in his chest. His breath stuttered. He opened his mouth—maybe to beg, maybe to praise, he didn’t know—but he never got the chance.
The shift was subtle—just Toa adjusting his thick thighs beneath Felix. Toa’s free hand slid along Felix’s jaw, thumb pressing down on his lower lip.
Felix stilled, his heart hammering behind the rope.
Toa spread his knees slightly, bringing himself close enough that Felix felt the heat of it against his cheek. An unmistakable invitation, a presence that said This is for you.
The heady musk of him—sweet at the edges, unmistakably Toa—filled Felix’s nose, and his mouth flooded in response.
Caprice had slowed to watch, and he moaned—almost pleading—as Felix clenched around him.
Toa’s fingers pressed firm against his chin, turning Felix’s head towards him.
The tent went silent for one suspended breath.
The goliath didn’t need to raise his voice.
“Open.”
The soft command sank straight through Felix’s spine.
He didn’t hesitate. His mouth parted obediently—aching for whatever Toa offered him. Toa’s sigh shivered down his body, a low rumble of quiet satisfaction.
Caprice’s breath broke in a whimper, undone by the sight.
Toa pressed his heavy heat across Felix’s lips, gliding over his open mouth. He didn’t thrust in—but he let Felix feel him, taste him, worship at the surface.
Felix moaned around the contact, tongue curling eagerly, prodding at the slit. He sucked softly where Toa let him, desperate for every inch he could safely take.
Caprice rocked against him again—small, shallow rolls—and Felix whined beneath them.
“Good boy,” Toa said, sliding a hand into Felix’s hair to guide him, gentle but firm. The wizard’s lips glistened where he pressed his cock against them.
“Just like that.”
Felix’s world narrowed to the two men—his body held in place by structure and devotion. His mouth used to please, his body filled.
Caprice’s rhythm changed.
Felix felt it first in the way the bard’s fingers tightened on the ropes across his chest—less tentative, more anchoring. Then, in the way Caprice’s breath hitched, not with restraint anymore, but necessity. The shift tugged something low in Felix’s core taut.
The next thrust carried weight.
A shocked sound escaped him—his body jolting as delicious heat flared through him. His toes gripped the bedroll, hips lifting to meet the motion.
Caprice moaned into Felix’s shoulder, voice hot and wrecked. “Fuck… Felix—” His hips rolled deeper—a needy, consuming force. “Let—let me have you.”
Felix’s breath broke apart under Toa’s press as a curse slipped free.
The ropes held him firm, but he still strained—arching subtly into Caprice, chest tightening beneath the harness. The glass plug had primed him so perfectly that he felt everything. Every tremor, every grind, every inch Caprice poured into him.
He didn’t beg. Not with words, at least.
Bound wrists twitched, his fingers flexing as if trying to reach for Caprice. His hips tilted again—small, impulsive—seeking friction he couldn’t create, the head of his neglected cock rubbing against the flat of Caprice’s belly. The faint slide of contact made Felix swear again, trembling.
Gods, he needed more. More weight on him, more hands, more of them, more anything.
Caprice felt the desperation and groaned. A hand clamped at Felix’s thigh, fucking him harder—hungrier—like Felix’s quiet need fed something deep inside him.
Felix couldn’t think—entirely consumed by heat, rope, breath. Each thrust pulled a new sound from his throat—soft and broken, the blindfold leaving him only with sensation.
And every noise Felix made only spurred Caprice faster.
It didn’t take long. He pressed in—deep, urgent—fingers digging into Felix as he released with a strangled cry. He shook, forehead pressing into Felix’s shoulder as his hips jerked.
Felix gasped. Warmth flooded him, spreading outward in a dizzying, overwhelming wave.
“Caprice…” he breathed—raw, trembling.
He arched again—grinding helplessly against the bard, seeking friction. Still wanting. Still reaching. Still not even close to sated.
Toa didn’t move right away.
He let the moment hold—let Felix feel it fully—being taken, being filled, being wanted so deeply it shook another man apart.
Caprice’s breath steadied by degrees, tiny tremors rolling through him.
“That’s enough,” Toa said.
Caprice obeyed, withdrawing with a soft groan and collapsing to his elbows beside Felix. Toa’s hands closed around Felix’s ribs—gentle, but unyielding—and the world tipped.
A heartbeat later, Felix was on his knees, face pressed towards the ground. His bound arms folded uselessly beneath him. He felt empty without Caprice inside him, fluttering involuntarily around nothing.
Struggling to balance on tied legs, he couldn’t lift his head—not like this—but another pair of hands guided him.
Caprice.
He knelt close and carefully placed Felix’s cheek on his lap. The bard stroked brown curls tenderly, still catching his breath.
Felix exhaled shakily across Caprice’s thighs. His body pulsed open, and he felt a warm wetness trickle out, humiliating and intoxicating all at once.
Toa’s large palms settled on his hips, and Felix sucked in an anticipatory breath.
The goliath kneaded pale flesh—nails dragging deep lines into his skin, coaxing each shiver to the surface. A thumb slid upward, gathering the slick to press it back inside with deliberate slowness.
Felix moaned, low and helpless.
Toa’s other hand found the rope across Felix’s back, tightening a line with the precision of a craftsman adjusting his own work. The cinch pulled Felix’s breath taut—tipping him deeper, nearer to overwhelming.
He whimpered, thighs quivering with the strain of kneeling bound, as he felt the goliath line himself up.
Toa pressed forward. Felix’s breath faltered, spine arching.
The stretch was devastating—edging near pain—before it tipped into something hotter. He keened—the sound muffled against Caprice’s skin.
Toa’s hand closed around the rope at Felix’s back, guiding him with infuriating patience—inch by unbearable inch.
Felix trembled violently—bound hands gripping air, jaw clenching against the increasing pressure. Unable to watch, Toa felt larger than ever, as if he had no end.
“…there you go,” Toa murmured, low and steady, like an anchor dropped into deep water.
Caprice’s hand stroked Felix’s cheek, thumb brushing near his mouth. “He’s shaking,” he said—half lustful, half worshipful. “Gods, look at him.”
“He can take it,” Toa answered, tightening his hold and sinking deeper. “He wants to.”
A broken sound tore from Felix’s throat. Not agreement—not denial—but raw pleading.
Toa gave him a moment—one long, shuddering breath. Then he pulled Felix flush onto him, their hips pressed tightly together.
Felix cried out Toa’s name—high and ragged.
The sound pooled warm in Caprice’s chest. Each stuttering gasp caressed the bard’s ears. Felix’s bound legs trembled violently, toes curling for stability that wasn’t there.
Caprice whimpered with him, overwhelmed by the sight. “Gods… you’re perfect—let us have all of you.”
Felix drifted—body split open around Toa’s girth, breath breaking into uneven gasps. His hips rocked—seeking something, anything. His cock swayed heavy beneath him, leaking steadily. His spine bent—small, frantic movements he couldn’t stop. Not asking aloud, but asking all the same.
Caprice felt the small grind of Felix’s mouth against his thigh—a desperate, impulsive reach for him.
His breath faltered. “He’s…,” Caprice said, voice shaking. “He wants more.”
Felix opened his mouth again—panting, blindfold wet around the edge.
“Please…” he gasped, not even sure what he was asking for—only that the need was too big to hold.
Toa heard him. His chest rumbled with approval, possession, desire.
“What is it, Felix?” he coaxed. “Let it out.”
Felix mumbled, incoherent. “Toa… I-I need—just—s-something… please.”
His begging cracked the moment open, but Toa didn’t reach for him.
Caprice did.
The bard shifted, hands guiding Felix’s face off his lap. Felix inhaled sharply as his neck bent upward—sensing movement, sensing heat—and then Caprice brought him forward.
Not harsh. Not rushed. But inevitable.
Felix felt Caprice’s cock brush his lips. He groaned.
“Shhh… open for me.”
Felix hardly had time to shape the breath before Toa thrust again—ruinously deep—and his mouth dropped open on instinct.
Caprice didn’t waste the opportunity.
He pressed in—guiding the slick, hard length of himself between Felix’s parted lips with careful precision. Not forcing or claiming, just giving him exactly what he wanted.
Felix choked on a moan, the sound vibrating around Caprice’s length and eliciting a curse from the bard. Behind him, Toa’s breath caught—still controlled, but fraying at the edges.
“That’s it…” he growled, voice thick. “Take him.”
Caprice’s hand slid into Felix’s hair, fingers tightening to hold him steady—anchoring him in place.
Felix shivered, pinned between the two men he trusted most—one driving him open, one easing into his throat. His thoughts flickered out like candles. His body didn’t know where to focus: the heat filling his belly, the rope cinched tight across his chest, Toa’s hands on his hips, Caprice’s breath in his ear.
Too much.
Not enough.
A helpless moan spilled from him, muffled and desperate—and it wound deep through the men holding him.
Toa’s rhythm deepened—a long, grinding thrust that shoved Felix forward. Caprice’s breath hitched sharply—hips stuttering just once before he mastered himself again.
Felix’s reality condensed to white heat at the edges, of being both used and cherished all at once. He swallowed around Caprice, arched back onto Toa. Sensation flooded Felix in layers—thick, dizzying, impossible to separate.
And there, caught helplessly between them, Felix did the only thing he could.
He surrendered to it.
Caprice’s fingers slid deeper into his curls—the grip steady and sure—while his other hand cupped beneath Felix’s jaw. Feeling the swell of his throat, the flutter of life beneath his palm. Heat radiated through that touch—thumb poised over the frantic thrum of his pulse.
Felix tried to breathe—failed—tried again.
A guttural sound rose from him, caught between the strength of Toa behind him and the weight of Caprice on his tongue. Colored spots bloomed behind the blindfold, pulsing with every panicked heartbeat as his lungs screamed for air.
His muscles seized and trembled, shuddering beneath the rope. His whole body tightened involuntarily—shoulders bowing, jaw flexing.
Caprice felt it instantly.
He pulled Felix’s head back, shifted his hips away—just enough space for air. His thumb stroked lightly across Felix’s throat.
“Felix?”
Felix inhaled in a shaking rush, coughing as drool slicked his chin. Tears flowed free from behind the damp cloth over his eyes, rolling down flushed cheeks. He sagged for a heartbeat…
Then he surged forward again, reaching blindly for more.
Needing Caprice. Wanting him more than air.
The tiefling gasped in surprise. “Fuck… you’re beautiful like this,” he whispered, reverence shaking his voice. His hands guided him back down carefully.
Behind them, Toa slowed—not stopping, but watching. Reading. His voice rumbled low, deep in his chest.
“My good boys.”
Felix heard the pride in it—felt it—warm as the hand along his spine.
Caprice flushed at the praise, his hips settling into a rhythm shaped by patience rather than hunger. He moved with Felix’s breath, easing back when the wizard’s shoulders shook, sinking in only when Felix pushed forward eagerly.
Felix floated somewhere between strain and surrender behind the darkness of his blindfold. Every breath a gift, every touch an anchor, every command a lifeline.
And Toa watched it all with a steady, unshaken certainty.
This was trust.
This was the shape of what they’d built together.
This was Felix giving himself over—and being caught perfectly.
The goliath adjusted his pace—syncing to them both in the way he always could. The wizard’s breaks for air became more frequent—shuddering gasps between guttural groans as he let Caprice use his throat. Toa felt it first: the grip of Felix’s slick heat, the arch of his body, the way he pushed back against him harder.
Toa withdrew nearly to the head—enough for Felix to feel the threat of loss—and brought his hand down in a sharp crack across Felix’s ass.
A whimper trembled out of Felix’s chest, then broke open into a muted shout around Caprice as Toa snapped his hips back into him again. Felix’s cock helplessly streaked his belly, stained the bedding beneath him.
Caprice pulled Felix off of him, watching the wizard sob and twitch through his orgasm. Felix’s blindfold was soaked, his trembling lips red and swollen. His flushed face shone with tears, snot, and spit—a blissed-out mess. It stole Caprice’s breath.
And then—after a handful of trembling gulps of air—Felix reached for him again.
Searching blindly with parted lips.
Wanting.
Caprice shook his head in awe.
Toa slowed, and Felix sensed the change in intent.
A large palm slid down his spine—easy and steady. Then the hand dropped lower. First in a gliding stroke—spreading slickness with slow, deliberate circles. Then, a single finger pressed lightly beside where Toa filled him—nothing more than a suggestion, a promise of what was coming.
Felix inhaled sharply around Caprice’s cock. His body fluttered—not quite resistance but not quite surrender either.
Toa caught it instantly. He always did.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice close—warm against Felix’s back. His thumb stroked the dark and swollen rim—just hinting. “You’re doing so good.”
Caprice stilled his hips, feeling Felix tense around him. His hands tightened to steady him.
“Breathe for us.”
Felix obeyed, drawing deep through his nose. His breath hitched—then he softened, melting into the tiefling’s hands. His mind quieted as he drifted away into that floating, peaceful place.
Toa pushed a finger in beside himself—just the tip, just enough to stretch the tender edge.
It dragged Felix back again. Uncertainty sparked—a struck nerve flared. Subtle, but unmistakable.
Toa stopped—not withdrawing, but staying his press the moment Felix’s body spoke.
Caprice’s hands soothed Felix where he held him, waiting for the goliath’s lead.
Toa’s other hand slid from Felix’s hip across the ropes at his ribs until he reached Felix’s bound wrists.
He didn’t need to speak. This was how they asked. He simply placed his hand between Felix’s.
Felix trembled, everything feeling sharper—the heat, the breath, the unknown.
But he knew what Toa was asking. Had known since the night they established it.
One squeeze to continue. Two to stop.
Felix’s heart fluttered behind his ribs.
Then his fingers tightened—just once. A single, long, wanting squeeze.
Toa exhaled, the sound warm against Felix’s spine. Approval. Pride. His own need held carefully on a leash.
“Okay.”
He didn’t push deeper. Not yet. He withdrew the teasing finger entirely, giving Felix space to breathe.
Caprice stroked Felix’s cheek with trembling touches. “You’re so good,” he said, voice thin with awe.
Felix shuddered as tension released from his body in slow waves.
Toa’s hands moved with quiet steadiness—one supporting Felix’s belly, the other cupping his ribs as he drew the wizard upright. They shifted together—Caprice slipping from Felix’s mouth with a wet sound as Toa guided Felix back. He settled against the blankets to recline with Felix across him, bound thighs straddling his own. Toa remained nestled halfway inside him, a warm and heavy presence—utterly still.
“That’s it,” Toa murmured, hands stroking Felix’s skin. “Feel. Don’t decide yet.”
Felix’s head rested back on Toa’s shoulder, his curls damp with sweat. His lips parted around small, shaky breaths—the ropes around his chest rising and falling too quickly.
Caprice knelt beside them, cupping Felix’s face with a gentle hand. “You’re safe,” he said. “Not going anywhere.”
“Breathe,” Toa said.
Felix obeyed, breath slowing gradually.
Toa let his palm settle in Felix’s bound hands again—not asking, just checking in. Anchor touch, consent touch. Felix curled his fingers around Toa’s in answer—a silent, instinctive squeeze of trust.
Caprice watched—saw Felix soften, saw him surrender—and shivered in response.
Toa kissed across Felix’s shoulder, slow and deliberate. “We’ll continue when you’re ready,” he said.
Felix nodded, voice wrecked. “I’m… I’m ready.”
Toa’s hand tightened at his waist, waiting a moment.
“Okay.”
He shifted his hips—just a fraction—letting Felix feel the intent before the movement. Felix gasped, his body arching in response.
Caprice felt it too—the way Felix’s need crested again, the way his breath hitched into soft, choked sounds of desire. “He’s—he wants—” he breathed, trembling.
“I know,” Toa said, voice heavy and certain. His hands spread warm across Felix’s thighs. “We’ll give it to him.”
Felix melted into Toa, trembling, waiting—knowing they were about to take him somewhere he’d never been.
“Felix. Do you want to see?”
Felix froze, his breath catching in his throat at Toa’s question. His trembling hands curled. His body balanced on the edge of want and overwhelm.
He gave a faint nod.
“Words,” Toa coaxed warmly.
“…y-yes,” Felix rasped. “I want… I want to see.”
Toa slid the blindfold off slowly so Felix’s eyes could adjust. Light spilled in around the cloth before the world clarified.
Felix blinked fast, vision blurring into color and shape.
And Caprice was the first thing he saw: flushed, shaking, eyes dark as he knelt between Felix’s spread legs like a man in prayer.
The bard inhaled sharply when Felix’s amber gaze found him. “Gods,” he said. “Felix… look at you…”
Felix’s whole body shuddered as Caprice’s eyes ravaged him.
Toa kept him steady—one hand on his chest, another passing over Felix’s face to wipe away tears.
“Toa,” Caprice breathed, without meaning to. “I—he’s—”
“I know,” Toa said with an edge of pride and hunger.
Felix whimpered softly, caught between wanting to hide and wanting to be devoured.
Toa’s hands moved again—slow, steady—sliding down Felix’s ribs.
Felix watched with bated breath as a large palm spread across his belly, holding him firm. The other slid beneath him, fingers stroking where their bodies were joined.
Then something slipped inward alongside Toa’s thick length.
Felix’s breath shattered on the inhale, a strangled sound—half gasp, half plea. Toa worked him open with deliberate pressure.
He couldn’t erase the pain—Felix understood that was impossible. He patiently guided him through it. Pain needed space to breathe. Toa gave him that space.
“That’s it,” Toa murmured into his ear. “Open for us.”
Felix tried—gods, he tried—but his breath came in fast, trembling bursts.
Caprice vibrated with awe, tail whipping sharply.
“Caprice. Oil.”
Caprice scrambled to obey Toa, hands shaking hard enough to almost drop the small bottle. He knelt between Toa’s spread knees as he opened it, the scent filling the tent.
“Pour it.”
He did—over Toa’s fingers, over the thick shaft still half-sheathed inside Felix, over Felix’s swollen entrance. Oil ran in warm rivulets—dripping down Toa’s balls—and Caprice coated his own cock next, fisting it slowly.
Toa waited until the wizard’s trembling eased a little, then placed a hand in Felix’s once more.
“Felix…”
The wizard held his breath.
One squeeze. Hard.
“Words too,” Toa said softly. “If you can.”
Felix swallowed thickly, and his voice came thin—a quivering thread.
“I—I want you… b-both.”
Caprice made a sound—soft, wrecked—and knelt closer. Toa stroked Felix’s face with proud affection.
“You’ll have us.”
Toa didn’t thrust. He held Felix steady as Caprice positioned himself—hands shaking, slick fingers sliding along the goliath’s length to find a path beside it.
Felix felt the nudge—the blunt, oil-slick press of the tiefling’s cock sliding into the same space already filled.
Gods—he hadn’t expected—
He gasped—sharp, high—as his body coiled tight, instinct flaring fast and bright, a last flicker of self-preservation he struggled to surrender.
“Relax,” Toa urged, forehead pressed to Felix’s shoulder as he held him firm. “Don’t run from it.”
Caprice cursed through gritted teeth. “Shit—fuck! He’s… so tight.”
“Slowly.”
The bard obeyed, pushing gradually until Felix’s body yielded. The stretch was fire—impossible, overwhelming—and Felix writhed in Toa’s grip as both men filled him.
He couldn’t speak, his jaw clenched shut against words he couldn’t grasp. His world collapsed into heat, pressure, hands stabilizing him, rope holding him in place, the thick slide of two bodies inside him where one had once felt like too much.
Caprice’s head dropped back as he moaned. “T-Toa, he’s—he’s squeezing!”
Felix’s mouth fell open, but only a shattered, breathless gasp came out.
The sound made Caprice cry out and jerk his hips.
That tiny motion—just a flick—drove both men deeper in unison.
Felix’s vision blurred, dark spots blooming at the edges.
Toa held him through it, voice steady even as his breath hitched with strain.
“You’re taking us so well.”
Caprice clung to Felix’s hips, thrusting in small, helpless movements—unable to stop, unable to withstand the way Felix’s body milked him with every tremor.
“Toa—he’s—he’s right on me. I can feel—” Caprice sobbed, overwhelmed.
Felix could too. Every time Caprice moved, Toa shifted against him, their cocks sliding together inside him in a way that hit something deep and devastating.
He dissolved into high, broken cries—body shaking and arching helplessly between them. They were going to split him in half, break him into pieces, consume him until there was nothing left.
Pressure spiked behind his navel—then suddenly burst.
He screamed as he came white hot, coating the hemp cords crossing his body. He shook violently, clenching so hard Toa grunted with the force of it.
Caprice choked out a cry as the force of Felix’s orgasm nearly pushed him out. His hips stuttered as he came himself with a broken moan, fingers clawing at rope and raking skin.
Felix felt Caprice’s release through him, and it tore a desperate sound from him in return. He lifted his head with immense effort—and shivered at the sight before him.
Caprice curved over him—shaking, breath stuttering out in broken gasps. Tears clung to his eyelashes, making them shine. His chest heaved against Felix, sweat and slick sticking their skin together, Felix’s bound hands pinned between them.
He looked ruined—beautifully, unbearably ruined—and Felix vaguely registered in that wreckage that he must look the same.
Toa didn’t move, the three of them suspended in heat and breath and the pulse still throbbing through Felix’s body.
Only when Caprice sagged—boneless, overstimulated, panting—did Toa adjust.
A massive arm swept across them, dragging Caprice fully onto Felix’s chest and pinning them together. The goliath’s strength closed around them like steel—unbreakable and encompassing—pulling Felix tighter onto him and Caprice tighter onto Felix.
Man, tiefling, and goliath fusing into one trembling line.
Caprice whined Toa’s name—a high, keening sound. “Tooaa! W-wait! I can’t—”
Toa’s other arm locked around the bard’s hips, anchoring him firm.
“No,” Toa growled, voice ragged with restraint. “Feel him with me.”
The command hit Caprice like a blow, and he coiled his tail around a powerful arm to steady himself. His heart jolted—then melted, shattered by being held so completely. Fear didn’t come—only heat. Only surrender. Only the dazed, overwhelming pleasure of being caught between Toa’s force and Felix’s softness.
Felix was no less undone.
Trapped between Toa’s solid heat behind him and Caprice’s shaking body on top of him, every breath took considerable effort. Felix saw the shine of tears on Caprice’s flushed cheeks, the tremor in his lips, the way his eyes unfocused as Toa tightened his hold.
And then Toa moved.
Slow, deep, ravaging.
The shift drove Caprice deeper as well. Felix’s cry tore out of him, raw and high, his body flexing between them.
Caprice broke against Felix’s shoulder, sobbing through the overstimulation. “I’m done—gods, I’m done! Please, please—I-I can’t take anymore—”
His voice dissolved into Felix’s skin, hot breath shuddering across the wizard’s collarbone. His fingers scrabbled for purchase on Felix’s arms, trembling so hard his nails drew welts.
Felix could only gasp—wet, broken, desperate—each sound curling against Caprice’s ears. He couldn’t form a single coherent plea. Everything in him was strain and submission—too much.
Toa groaned at the sight—at the feeling—at the way Felix shivered, impossibly tight around both of them. The sound rumbled deep—like a fault line shifting under pressure.
His grip tightened.
Then his hips snapped up—a single, devastating stroke that crushed all three of them together.
Felix’s head jerked back, mouth open in a silent scream.
Caprice’s breath broke into another sob, body convulsing against Felix’s.
Toa held them both in place as he ground them together—slow, claiming, unstoppable.
“Mine,” Toa growled—low, shaking with restraint but irrefutable control. “Both of you. Right here.”
Caprice whimpered—overwhelmed, obedient without thought, held in place as surely as Felix was.
Felix writhed helplessly. Unable to run from the pleasure. Unable to bear the pain. Unable to want anything else.
And Toa kept moving—deliberate, consuming, dragging them down with him.
A low, guttural growl vibrated through Felix’s spine as Toa thrust deep, and—with a rare curse—his release flooded hot and heavy inside Felix.
Caprice shattered with him.
A sudden cry ripped from the bard as Felix convulsed around them both, squeezing Caprice into overstimulation so sharp it broke him into a second orgasm. His body jerked, chest pressed tight to Felix’s, fingers gripping the rope until his knuckles were pale.
Felix’s scream tore free—raw, delirious—as his mind unraveled in a rush so intense it bordered on madness, a freefall he could neither fight nor flee.
They shuddered in unison, voices tangling into one sound.
And then—silence.
Heavy.
Holy.
Absolutely full.
Caprice collapsed, slipping free from Toa’s arms and Felix’s body. He pressed his forehead to one of Felix’s quivering thighs, sobbing through the aftershock.
Felix trembled—ruined, held, loved down to the marrow. Toa gathered him, holding him close, keeping him safe.
For a long moment, none of them moved. Not out of hesitation—out of that stunned smallness that follows something so intense, the body can’t understand it right away.
Felix lay limp in Toa’s embrace—breath thin and shaky, skin feverish. Caprice remained folded between their legs—chest still rising too fast—afraid that moving would break the fragile stillness hanging in the air.
It was Toa who came back first. A breath, a shift, a centering of strength—reshaping the moment around what they needed.
“Shhh,” Toa hushed, voice still rough with the remnants of pleasure. “Come back to us.”
He wrapped an arm around the wizard’s torso, guiding Felix gently off of him.
The motion made Felix gasp, and the warm flood of oil and slick that followed shocked him. For one dizzy, irrational moment, Felix imagined his insides spilling out. Panic spiked sharp through the haze.
The sight caught Caprice’s breath tight in his chest, but his concern prevailed. He placed a steadying hand on Felix’s knee and checked him with the lightest, gentlest pressure.
“It’s okay,” he soothed, weaving a healing spell in his words, just in case. “You’re okay, Felix. I promise.”
Felix felt a subtle warmth thread through his body, lessening the ache some. He sighed, a small sound against Toa’s chest.
Toa slowly sat up—keeping Felix close—and nodded his thanks to Caprice. He stroked Felix’s ribs in long, patient passes that coaxed each trembling breath back into something steadier.
Then Toa reached upward. “Hands.”
Felix curled them toward Toa—cooperative, trusting, pliant. Toa kissed his temple once, then pulled at the cords.
The knots loosened with soft, patient sounds. Each pass unwound a line of pressure, leaving a warm tingling sensation in its place. When the last knot fell away and his arms lowered into his lap, he sagged—boneless with relief.
Caprice exhaled shakily. “His skin…” He ran his knuckles over a reddened band on Felix’s chest—soft, reverent.
“No breaks,” Toa said as he checked him over. “Just marks. Good marks.”
Felix nodded weakly—even that small motion difficult—and collapsed deeper into Toa’s arms.
Then it hit him—sudden, breathtaking, all-consuming.
His breath stuttered, and his lips wobbled. His eyes went glassy and unfocused, tears springing up fast. Fingers curled weakly in his lap as he swallowed a small, broken sound.
Toa caught him before Felix could even understand he was falling.
He gathered Felix tight, rocking him gently, and smoothed a hand up and down his spine.
“You’re okay,” he murmured. “Let it come. I’ve got you.”
A hiccup shook Felix’s chest.
“I—I d-don’t—know why…”
“You don’t have to know,” Toa said, kissing his temple. “Just breathe.”
Caprice scrambled upright on unsteady limbs, still trembling from the enormity of everything. He grabbed the waterskin hastily and offered it with both hands.
Toa nodded. “Thank you, Caprice.”
He tilted it slowly to Felix’s lips. “Drink.”
Felix obeyed—mouth shaking against the rim, water dribbling down his chin. Caprice wiped it away without a second thought.
“Gods, Felix… you’re amazing,” Caprice said in awe.
Felix’s eyelids fluttered, and he made a small sound of gratitude.
Caprice’s breath caught, but he steadied his hands and reached for the salve. Kneeling at Felix’s side, he dabbed each rope mark with soft apologies every time Felix hissed.
“You were… you’re incredible,” Caprice continued, thumb stroking a fading red line on Felix’s thigh. “So strong. So trusting.”
Felix’s voice rasped, throat raw. “I… I didn’t… know it would f-feel like…”
Toa hummed low, still rocking him.
“We knew,” he said. “That’s why we took you slow.”
Felix buried his face in Toa’s chest. Caprice brushed sweaty hair away from the wizard’s forehead, smoothing it back with delicate fingers.
“Hey, look at me?”
Felix turned his head sluggishly.
Caprice smiled—small and sincere. “You did so well. Better—better than I imagined. Better than I deserved to touch.”
Felix let out a small, startled laugh that dissolved into another tremble. Toa stroked warm palms along his sides, grounding.
“You’re safe,” Toa said, voice dropping into that deep, soft register that shook the air between them. “We’re here. We’re not leaving.”
Caprice nodded and leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched.
“You held us,” he said. “Both of us. Let us hold you back.”
Felix closed his eyes and sagged fully into their warmth. Toa behind him, strong and grounding. Caprice in front, all gentle hands and feather-soft kisses to his hairline.
They stayed like that until Felix’s tears dried and his lungs pulled slow and steady breaths.
Eventually, Toa eased them down into the blankets—Felix tucked safely between them. Caprice’s hand rested over Felix’s heart. Toa’s arm wrapped around them both, protective and warm.
“Thank you… for catching me,” Felix whispered.
Toa pressed a kiss to his head.
Caprice kissed his shoulder.
And together, in the warm hush of the tent, they held him through the last waves of his fall—soft, steady, unwavering—until Felix stopped trembling and drifted into dreams.