“I watched your duel earlier,” Menenius said, by way of a hello as Lyon staggered back into the barracks looking much the worse for wear.
“Oh aye, did you now? What a fight! I swear, I get more and more sorely tested by the day.” Lyon leaned against the doorway, knocking the panel to lock it behind him.
“You stink, by the way.”
“Well, that’s what happens when you’ve been duelling with those Warriors of Light. Haven’t had chance to get a wash yet.” He folded his arms and levelled a look at Menenius, who was lounging back in one of the wide chairs, a tomestone dimmed on the armrest from where he’d been reading. “Is there a point to this interrogation, or are you just playing with your food again, you damn snake.”
Menenius smirked and leaned forward, resting both elbows on his knees. “How long have you been able to pull off that duplication tactic? It’s most intriguing.”
“Oh, that old thing?” Lyon waved a hand airily, “ages. I don’t know. Ten years? Twenty? I lose count.”
“Most intriguing.” Menenius dragged a long, slow look up and down Lyon’s body, taking in the bloodied cuts and bruises just on the turn to lurid.
Lyon raised an eyebrow. “What are you planning?”
Menenius stood and dusted off his hands briskly, closing the space between them with two long strides and getting all up in Lyon’s business. He leaned in. “Ever since I saw those two clones of yours, I’ve been thinking about just how they might feel to take,” he smiled predatorily, “all at once, as it were.”
Lyon’s eyes widened. “All at once, is it? Emperor’s balls lad, you’ve some ambition in you.”
“It has been said. So, are you up to it, I wonder? Or would you prefer to go back to your kennel and lick your wounds for the night, such as they are.”
Baring his teeth in a grin, Lyon pushed off the wall and up against Menenius, feeling the obvious press of his hard-on against his thigh. “Oh, you have been thinking about it, haven’t you. Filthy boy.” He settled both hands on Menenius’ hips then walked him back towards the low table they used for, variously, planning out combat tactics, stacking books, and on one memorable occasion, in place of the bed straight after a particularly adrenaline-inducing pair of back to back duels.
“You just sit right there,” Lyon said, the intensity of his eyes matching his feral smile, “and I’ll see what I can do for you. Got yourself prepped already?”
Menenius leaned back on his hands and looked up at Lyon, still somehow looking down his nose at him even from the lower height. “What do you take me for? I had to do something while I was waiting for your return, did I not?”
“Hah. Aye, I guess you did. How many fingers?”
“All of them.” Menenius’ lips curled in a satisfied smile, and the implications of that hit Lyon like a rampaging Behemoth.
“All of them, you say… And without me here to see it? I should be insulted.” Lyon worried at the fastenings to his pants and finally got them undone, though he had to push them down and over his dick, which was very much paying attention.
Menenius’ own loose pants followed and he kicked them onto the floor as Lyon divested himself of both of his gauntlets. “As if you haven’t had your fist inside me on enough occasions already.”
“Aye, that I have.” Lyon ran his hand up the length of his dick, eyelids flickering with pleasure as his fingers bumped over each piercing in turn. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a greedy fuck, hm? You love this dick so much you want three of them at once… Shit....”
Lyon closed his eyes and centred himself - not an easy task with a hand on his dick, mind - flinging out his free arm to the left and clenching his fist in a sharp movement, bringing one orange-tinged clone to materialise out of mid-air. Reluctantly letting go of himself, he brought out the other arm and mirrored the movement, coalescing a second clone on his right.
Menenius huffed out a laugh, eyes sliding from clone to clone to the real thing, one hand already on his own dick and stroking languidly. “Did you intend to make them different colours, or is that a happy coincidence?”
All three Lyons showed sharpened teeth in a predatorily possessive smirk down at Menenius. The left was a hazy orange colour and the right was an acidic green, both glowing in ways reminiscent of Lyon’s axes, but in all else they were identical from hurts to hard on.
“Entirely for your benefit,” actual Lyon said, and his voice took on a strange timbre as both clones echoed in duplicate.
A full-body shiver went down Menenius’ spine, and he paused in his leisurely jerking off, mouth falling open slightly. “Do that again,” he said, mouth dry.
“Oh, you like it when we all talk?” Green Lyon knelt next to Menenius and claimed his mouth in a hard kiss.
Orange Lyon leaned over the low table, voice pitched low, to breathe directly in Menenius’ ear. “I think he does like it.”
“Thinking about what we’ll feel like, are you boy?” The real Lyon moved to kneel onto the table behind Menenius, one thigh cut oozing blood as the movement reopened the wound there. He leaned against Menenius’ back and then turned him round when the green Lyon released him from the kiss, forcing his legs over the top of his own until Menenius was straddling him. “Let’s give you a taste then.”
Without waiting, Menenius reached behind, took hold of Lyon’s dick and slid down onto it, falling forward against Lyon’s chest as he sunk down to the base in a slick, easy movement.
Lyon hissed, gripping onto Menenius’ arse with force. “Seven hells boy, you weren’t kidding about prepping up were you?”
Menenius gasped out a laugh that was roughly cut off when the orange Lyon came up behind him, hands snaking between to take hold of his dick and pump it slowly.
He leaned in, one softly glowing, bearded cheek pressed against Menenius’ back. “Oh aye, he wasn’t kidding. You think all this prep’ll be enough to take us both?” He settled both hands on Menenius’ shoulder blades and exerted enough pressure to send both him and the actual Lyon backwards ‘til they were laid on the table, Lyon’s legs hanging off the edge while Menenius rested on top, barely daring to move as he was manhandled into position.
The orange Lyon spread one possessive, ghostly hand across the curve of Menenius’ arse, his thumb dipping down to where flesh met flesh. His eyes lidded lazily as he pushed that thumb inside, testing the stretch and bringing a harsh gasp from Menenius’ lips.
“Oh, he liked that.” The green Lyon came in close, pulling Menenius’ chin up with a harsh twist until he was brought upwards slightly. A green thumb slid into Menenius’ mouth and he opened it obligingly, tongue lapping at the roughly calloused pad in a move that he knew sent Lyon wild.
Both clones’ eyes met over Menenius’ head and with another of those feral smiles, the orange Lyon lined his dick up and pushed, hard and slow and inexorably until he was seated above the real Lyon’s dick.
Menenius collapsed against the real Lyon’s chest with a wordless cry, split apart at the seams and so unbelievably full it was almost unbearable. One of the dicks nestled up against his prostate, that damn pierced head forcing sparks through his body like kindling until he was shaking, thighs trembling, aware of nothing but hands at his back and his neck and face, pushing hair from his wet lips and a soft, scratchy kiss grounding him in the moment.
“I got you,” Lyon murmured, flickering his tongue into the kiss and rolling his hips oh so slowly, “how’s it feel, hm? As good as you expected? Because by all the hells, boy, it feels fucking amazing from this side.”
Menenius moaned, his own hips jerking from the press of sensations, the surprising tenderness from the real Lyon, his Lyon. “G-good,” he gasped out, toes curling as both Lyons moved in him at the same time, “really, really good…”
The green Lyon threaded his fingers into Menenius’ hair, tilting his head back up. “Open wide now lad, part those pretty lips for me, hm?”
Menenius obeyed almost unthinkingly and found his lips breached by the gently glowing green head, still pierced, still ridiculously huge, still hitting the back of his throat like it belonged there. He swallowed against his gag reflex, green fingers slipping to the back of his head and holding it still by the messy remains of his ponytail, and Menenius’ eyes rolled back in his head as all three of them began to move in sync and it was all he could do to not fly apart as orange and green and flesh hands caressed him everywhere; took firm hold of his dick and jerked it; rolled a nipple between blunt fingernails; tightened in his hair and tugged just enough to pull his chin up; dick down his throat and in his arse and by all the fucking gods and the hells and whatever else he was lost, floating on the growls and groans and susurration of pleasure from three linked voices, coming in rough echoes now, not enough brainpower left to separate and control, just a mess of feral, bestial sound and whispered words-
“Menenius, fuck-”
“You feel so good, your lips were made for me-”
“You take it so well, look at you, I could watch you like this for hours, are you going to come for me-”
Teeth latched onto his nipple from below, real teeth, and “you’re mine, aren’t you?” in a voice that was more growl than human and Menenius couldn’t hold it in any more, coming across Lyon’s chest and beard as his body convulsed against the hands holding him in place.
His arse clenched around both Lyons’ dicks, hips stuttering and toes curling as they wrung more pleasure from him than he thought he could stand; fucking him through the orgasm to a dull, sparking ache, jaw making its discomfort plain but they didn’t let up; those real hands and ghostly hands all over his body, cupping his chin, blunt fingers spread against his neck to feel the bulge of dick there, hard hand still at his own dick and jerking him slow, now, using his own come to slick the way.
“You gonna come for me again, hm? Come on now, be a good boy, I can’t hold out much longer-”
Menenius groaned around the dick in his throat, ragged and with just a hitch of a sob, near weightless and completely insensate from over-stimulation and the gruff praise flowing over him. He came, dry this time, barely even aware of anything outside of the immediacy of his body and Lyon’s hands clenching in his hair, at his hips and thighs, and the sudden rush of heat and wetness as all three Lyons came at once.
Menenius’ eyes rolled back in his head and he blacked out, utterly spent.
With shaking hands, Lyon made an abortive flicking gesture and both of the clones winked out of existence, letting Menenius fall forward onto his chest with a soft, blissed out noise somewhere between a groan and a sob.
Lyon wrapped both arms around Menenius, gentling him as he would one of his injured beasts, one hand stroking sweat-soaked hair from his face and the other rubbing soothing circles at his lower back, voice pitched to a rumbly murmur. “You’re so damned good, you know that? So good, such a good boy for me, aren’t you? Can’t believe you took all that so well, gonna be thinking about that for months.”
“Mmm, tell me again? ‘M good?”
“Hells yeah you are.” Lyon craned his neck and pressed a scratchy kiss against Menenius’ forehead. “You’re so fucking good, Menenius. Such a good boy.” He continued to rub, fingers in his hair going all the way to the scalp, as Menenius slowly but surely came back into himself.
“Hmm, not that I’ll be telling you this in public any time soon, but your willpower is exceptional.” Menenius’ words were a little slurred as he lifted his head and rested his chin on Lyon’s breastbone, one hand coming up to slip Lyon’s bandana off, letting his hair loose and wild. “Keeping those two corporeal that whole time?” He let out a low whistle. “I swear, I can still feel them inside me.” A wry, satisfied smile.
Lyon shook loose hair out of his eyes and grinned down at Menenius. “They don’t call me King of Beasts for nothing, boy.”
Menenius shivered, toes curling unconsciously. “And now, how am I supposed to curb my reactions when you call me that in front of the men?” He stifled a vast yawn by burying his face in Lyon’s chest hair, smiling to himself.
Lyon snorted. “Well, I’d say it’s a good thing you wear all that ridiculous armour. Easy enough to hide a hard-on, aye?”
“Hmm, I suppose you have a point.” With a noise of supreme effort, Menenius finally levered himself up from Lyon’s chest, loathe as he was to be parted from the soft hair and oddly comfortable padding of muscle. “Come now, I need a hand to the showers before I make a mess of the entire room.”
“Aye, well you’re not the only one.” Lyon managed to sit upright, though he had doubts about the efficacy of his legs. “You got any food hidden in here? I’m famished.”
Menenius narrowed his eyes, but the expression softened as he took in the state of Lyon, the wound at his thigh now bleeding freely and an evident shake in his hands. “You’re in luck, I do have a few bits laying around. And not rations, either, before you grouse.” He shuffled against Lyon and together they stood on wobbly legs. Menenius wrapped one arm around Lyon’s shoulder, and Lyon tucked one around his waist, both of them holding on for dear life. Silently.
Bathroom door firmly closed behind them and steam filling the small shower cubicle, Menenius allowed himself to lean against the solid weight of Lyon’s bulk, revelling in the hot water on his sore muscles. His throat was raw and aching, the strange taste of Lyon’s clone come still lingering on his tongue. “Make yourself useful back there, hm?”
Lyon leaned in and pressed a series of wet, snuffly kisses against the back and side of Menenius’ neck, his hands among the stream of water rubbing Menenius’ chest down with tender care. They meandered further down, cleaning his dick and then turning Menenius round firmly to clean his arse too.
Menenius’ eyes drifted closed and he let the heat and Lyon’s ministrations soothe him, until, nearly falling asleep, he was wrapped in a towel and gently steered towards his bunk. Not big enough for the both of them, really, but he was hardly going to complain when Lyon would spend nights pressed up against his back, beard tickling his shoulder blades and one meaty thigh slotted between his legs.
Lyon himself wandered stiffly about the room until he located the food Menenius had mentioned; a small, waxed package of dried fruit, some cold remains of some sort of roast meat and a few popotoes on the desk in the corner where Menenius had clearly been eating while he worked, as usual. He grabbed the plate and shuffled back to the bunk, sitting down against the curve of Menenius’ body.
He demolished the food in minutes, one hand idly rubbing through Menenius’ hair as he laid there, watching Lyon with well-sated eyes.
“You eat like a beast,” Menenius murmured, tilting his head so that Lyon’s fingers could rub the base of his neck.
“Yeah, well you don’t complain when I eat you like a beast.” Lyon finished eating and set the plate aside, licking his fingers with relish. He’d also managed to find bandages, and with swift efficiency he had his thigh wrapped and tied off in minutes. “Shift up, I’m knackered.”
Menenius smirked and moved obligingly back, lifting the covers for Lyon to tuck himself under until he was partially curled in the bunk facing Menenius, their foreheads near pressed together and a blanket of soft exhaustion falling onto both of them as they settled.
“Next time, I’m fucking you,” Menenius breathed, eyes drifting shut.
“Mm, you’d better.”