It took Keiss several hours into his partnership with Layle to find out that he's terrifyingly competitive. Then there's Belle, the girl he picked up along the way with her own troublesome competitive streak though she's more motivated by money and spite rather than excitement and curiosity. Everyone in the Selkie Guild knows that she's quite capable when pressed and Layle doesn't let anyone forget he's terrifyingly competent when pushed.

So why did he let himself get stuck between them?

It slips his mind, melting down his spine every time Layle snaps his hips forward. A hand slips under his jaw, forcing him to look up as the crystal bearer abuses his magic to fuck Keiss so hard there's no way in hell he's going anywhere for the rest of the day. "Who do you think is better?" There's a spark of thought, the barest glimmer of coherency, but it dies out quickly.

Underneath him, Belle rocks against Keiss, legs locked the best she could manage and her hands splayed across his chest. "Yeah, Keiss, tell him." When she feels cheeky, she runs her thumb over one of his nipples just to watch him shudder and shake. When he starts to lose himself, wound up and ground down by excess stimulation, she presses her lips to the wrist next to her head, bringing him back from a thoughtless brink.

The minutes might as well have been hours because he's been worked over for far too long. Layle's pace isn't sustainable anymore as he lets his own desire take control and Belle is just too tight, driving him a little crazy when she rocks against him. Spit drips down his face and the sheets groan when he tightens his grip.

The stimulation that was nowhere near enough to get him off pulls him apart one synapse at a time. Pain blooms across his waist as Layle grip turns vicious, matching the desperate pace and sharps gasps coming from behind him. Belle's fingers drag across his chest and down his stomach, nails digging in as they're both swept up in Layle's pace.

Keiss can't think between either of them, screaming and moaning until his voice is hoarse. He squirms, arms buckling and involuntarily trying to figure out whether to rock forward or push back. Anything that comes from his mouth -cursing, praise, or begging- is lost in incoherence as his words slur together. Overstimulation brings his mind to a complete halt as they fuck him into senseless bliss all in the name of competition.

Panic brings him back into the moment, out of the sea of heat and pleasure threatening to burn him from the inside. "S-top-" He grits his teeth as he crosses the point of no return, feeling the pressure of his imminent release when he tries to hold himself back. His voice jumps several pitches and it's hardly louder than the gasping breaths he can steal away between every moan being forced out of his lungs. "-gonna come-" The stitches of the sheet pop as he stars start to cloud his vision. "-stop stop stop s-st-hah-"

Layle's harsh grip shifts upwards, pulling him against his chest and far enough away so that Keiss comes over Belle's stomach. His cock is as deep as he could manage while Keiss sobbed, mumbling and begging in Selkic, hands clawing at his arms while his head is thrown back over his shoulder. Spasm wrack every muscle in his body while he rides it out and he whines when Belle runs her hands over his thighs. When the overwhelming heat and sensation give way, his vision is swallowed up by darkness and body gives out.

Completely exhausted and unconscious, he does not stir after a few moments. The two of them hold their breath, waiting for him to star swearing, but silence is only followed by light snoring. Belle is the first to speak up, amused by how wrecked he looked. "We can call it a draw for now. Let's get him cleaned up for now."

"Yeah." Layle says before they start to carefully untangle themselves from the mess of limbs and blankets.

When Keiss finally comes minutes later, he's wrapped in relaxing warmth and the smell of soap. They'd dragged him into the bath, managing to cram themselves into the tub with him sandwiched between them. Layle's chest is firm and Belle's skin is soft. Neither of them are bickering for once and the fingers against his scalp, working soap into his hair, feel so nice he can't help but bask in the bliss, leaning into it.

"You're finally awake?" Layle drags his fingers through his hair, pulling it back so he can see Keiss' face better.

"Mhmm." He hums.

Belle turns to look at him, mischief in her eyes, and Keiss braces himself. "So who won?"

Ah, of course. "Me."

The peace shatters as the two erupt into complaints and arguments. Keiss just laughs since he's too tired to mediate, making them even more upset. Layle dumps water over his head using magic to express his discontent and Belle just ignores him, facing forward once it's clear he's not changing his answer. They don't strand him in the bathroom, thankfully, because his legs refuse to cooperate.

In the bed that is far too small for two of them let alone three, they once again manage to get him in the middle. Belle's head is tucked under his jaw and he hands are pressed against his chest and shoulder while he holds her away from the edge. Behind him Layle rests his chin over his shoulder, wrapped his arms over them both as he presses against the wall. Their limbs are all so tangled within minutes that it's clear no one is getting up unless they're all getting up. It's an issue for Keiss to deal with in the morning when he's had coffee. For the moment he's just too worn out and comfortable to care.