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Layle / Keiss / Belle [629 Words] Rated A
"They're competitive and sometimes that's not too bad."
The fact Layle is competitive is something Keiss has known for about as long as he's known him. Belle, similarly, has her own competitive streak that everyone in the Selkie Guild is aware of. Those tendencies have landed him square between them, though, now acting as judge of one of their more bizarre and punishing challenges yet.
"Who's better?" Layle hand a hand under his jaw, angling his head back while he's fucking him hard enough to punch the breath from his lungs every time his hips snap forward, rocking them back and forth from the force.
Underneath him, Belle has her legs somewhat locked around him and her hands are splayed across his chest. "Yeah, tell him." She's so tight that it's driving him a little crazy since Layle's pace is just too fast and he's forcing them all into it.
Keiss can't think between either of them.
The tight grip Layle has on his waist and jaw is in contrast to Belle's feathery and gentle touches one minute, and then the next she lightly rakes her nails over his skin while Layle rubs reassuring circles in his hip with his thumb. Keiss screams, squirms, and begs through everything they give him. They're overstimulating him, melting down his brain and fucking every last coherent thought out of him, all in the name of competition.
He is not going to last and heat is curling around his spine while his vision swims in a sea of flickering of stars. "S-top-" His voice fails him and it's barely louder than each gasping breath he takes. "-gonna come-" Keiss grabs the sheets hard enough to cause the fabric to groan and stitches to pop around the edges. He's straining himself to hold back while Layle relentlessly pounds away, driving him into Belle at an unsustainable pace. His voice raises in pitch and volume as his desperation peaks. "-stop stop stop s-st-hah-"
Layle pulls him back onto him, all the way to the base, and he comes all over Belle's stomach, begging in something between gibberish and Selkic. Keiss sobs, head thrown back and resting against his shoulder as spasms wrack every muscle in his body. While he rides it out, he digs his blunt nails into Layle's arms and Belle runs her hands over his thighs. Overwhelming sensation soon gives way and his vision fades out, leaving Keiss completely spent and unconscious.
They sit there for a moment, expecting him to start swearing, but Keiss is out cold. Belle spoke up first. "It's a draw for now. Let's get him cleaned up."
"Yeah." Layle says as they carefully untangle themselves from each other.
When Keiss comes to, it's warm and smells nice. The hot water feels good on his aching muscles and being sandwiched between Layle and Belle is relaxing for once. There are hands in his hair, working soap into it, and he leans into it, basking in bliss.
"You're finally awake?" Layle asks.
"Mhmm." Keiss hums.
Belle turns to look at him. "So who won?"
Of course that's what they're worried about. "Me."
They erupt into complaints and arguments and Keiss just laughs. When they're all washed up and dried, they're still mad he won't give them a serious answer, but they're also trying and failing not to show it. Keiss ends up in between them on the bed that's too small for even just two of them to comfortably lie on it. They make it work, though, and so Keiss has Belle's head tucked under his jaw and Layle's resting on his shoulder. Their limbs are so tangled that he loses track of his own, but that's a problem for Keiss to deal with in the morning. He's too worn out and comfortable to be bothered to care.