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The joyous cheering of the racers greeting her as Aloy canters up to their camp feels like home. She’s met with slaps on the back and cups of water and something significantly stronger. They haven’t managed to paint Nil’s tent yet, but it’s still set a little way away from the others on the beach, nestled against the cliffs and facing out to sea.
“Is he there?” She manages to make herself heard over the excited sounds of teens wanting to catch up. Wikkoh thumps Haxx on the back, keeping him from choking on his own laughter.
“Yeah he’s there. You uh-” The teen boys blush, flicking their eyes shyly between Aloy and each other. “You missed the Marshal’s first race.”
Heat floods Aloy’s belly. “Don’t tell me who won.”
Pekka hands her a cup without looking and Aloy snags it on her path across the sands. Pekka doesn’t mention that Red Teeth and Kotallo had vanished to the tent more than an hour ago.
The waves crash to her left and underneath their whispering song she can just barely make out the sounds of pleasure. She’s glad for the gentle mist of the sea spray.
Cool drops hit her rapidly heating skin.
Part of her wishes she’d been here for Kotallo’s first race; eager to see him on the track, fending off Nil’s flirting and violence both. That part is shouted down by the rest of her pulsing heart. Her imagination flares, offering delicious speculation on what exactly is happening in that tent.
If Nil won … a sweet tingle of fear and arousal starts at the nape of her neck. Nil in command never fails to drive her body to exhaustion. Until time and thought don’t exist and she’s simply floating in a realm of orgasmic irresponsibility.
If Kotallo won … Aloy’s heart skips a beat. The command in his voice at the Bulwark, the perfect control of his body when they fought spectres and scorchers and bandits. His cocky strut up to the embassy. Heat pulses between Aloy’s thighs at the memory.
She hesitates in front of the closed off little tent and bites her lip. Perhaps she should leave them to their victories.
A low, breathless groan rolls into a vicious chuckle and Aloy's body carries her inside.
Her eyes take a moment, the blinding white light of the coast giving way to cool darkness. She very nearly drops her cup when the scene before her comes into focus. Nil sees her first, silver eyes reflecting the light behind her and blazing like a predator locking onto his prey. His soft, kiss-swollen lips curl into a grin that chases a shiver over her skin despite the warmth of the day.
Kotallo is beneath him, thick thighs spread wide and cock hard in the temperate air. He hasn’t spotted his commander yet, head dropped forward as his hand braces against the bedroll. Each hard muscle jolts with Nil’s thrusts and Aloy bites her lip, holding back her groan. Strong fingers slide up Kotallo’s tattooed spine. Nil’s big hand tangles itself in Kotallo’s braids and hauls him up until his back is pressed against Nil’s chest.
“Now your loss is complete Marshal.” He hisses, never ceasing his rolling thrusts. Kotallo groans, deep brown eyes locking blearily with Aloy’s. She has to swallow hard.
He looks wrecked.
His paint is worn away in places, suspiciously the size of Nil’s hands. His thick cock is heavy, hard and leaking between his thighs and he pushes his ass back into Nil’s every thrust. His hand wraps around Nil’s in his hair and Aloy gulps at the flex and press of muscle on display before her. Nil’s predatory grin over Kotallo’s thick shoulder sends tiny skitters of nervous arousal through her belly.
“Why are you still wearing clothes, Huntress.” It’s not a question. That low rumble is a command.
Aloy’s muscles jerk into action and she pointedly chooses not to analyse her reaction.
Nil’s low voice rumbles across the tent, silver eyes locked to hers as his free hand snakes down Kotallo’s abs to wrap around his cock. “Have you had her cunt yet, Marshal?”
Aloy ignores Nil’s hungry chuckle when she stumbles over her shorts. Kotallo’s groan vibrates through the tent.
“No matter how many times I fuck her, she’s always so tight around my cock. Her cunt is ravenous.”
Aloy finally kicks herself free of the last of her armour, straightening to see both warriors tracking her every movement. Nil’s hand is wrapped tight around the base of Kotallo’s cock, the head flushed and dark with desire. A trickle of sweat draws Aloy’s gaze down Kotallo’s neck, between his enormous pecs and down his trembling abs.
His gasp pulls her back to his face. Nil has latched onto his throat, wicked mouth nipping and sucking bruises into the skin there. “What say you, Marshal? Shall we sheath you in our huntress’s tight cunt?” He licks a line up to Kotallo’s ear where he whispers his last, eyes glued to Aloy’s. “Shall I fuck her through you?”
Aloy will forever deny that her knees waver. Just a bit. Kotallo’s eyes are locked onto the apex of Aloy’s thighs, mouth slack with desire. Nil’s spare hand comes down on the small of Kotallo’s back, arching his spine and driving a punched out moan from his chest. Aloy presses her thighs tight together, mouth watering at their display.
“On your back, Huntress.” Nil commands, tongue sliding across his top lip. “I want to watch the ecstasy cross your eyes when you cum on his cock.”
She’s across the tent in an instant, glad the ride here has stretched her hips. A little shuffle has her ass pressed close against Kotallo’s trembling thighs, cock resting in the valley of her cunt. She lets her toes brush against Nil’s ribs, reveling in the heat of his skin.
Kotallo moans low at the sight of her spread before him, wet with arousal and grinning eagerly at her boys. His arm flexes, attempts to drop and line himself up with her channel. But Nil has tangled their fingers together, snaring Kotallo’s hand in his own braids. All he manages is to tug his own hair with Nil’s grip. That low chuckle shudders over their skin and Aloy can trace fascinating paths of arousal between Kotallo’s tattoos.
“How wet our huntress is.” Nil’s eyes draw her in, a rabbit frozen before a hawk. “How hungry for your loss, Marshal.” He lays a loose, wet kiss below Kotallo’s ear, never taking his eyes off Aloy’s. “Was she hoping for this when she came in here, do you think? Was she wet at the thought of her unwavering soldier spread low and wide beneath me?” Calloused fingers slide Kotallo’s cock against her and the heat of it startles a gasp from her chest. Kotallo moves his hips, unable to resist dragging himself through her wet folds and fucking himself back into Nil’s lap. The painted masterpiece of his chest is tense with the urge to touch, to take, to claim.
If she were able to look away from Nil’s silver stare she would see Kotallo’s own hungry gaze.
He takes in all of her.
The light flush of a day riding in the sun across her freckled cheeks. The way her curls stick to the skin of her throat, carving a path he desperately wishes to trace with his tongue. The way her breasts heave with each pass of his cock over her hot cunt. Her thick thighs spread wide to make room for the two broad men between them.
Nil’s hand around the base of Kotallo’s cock thwarts his attempts to sheath himself in the wet heat spread so tantalisingly beneath him. Aloy’s own hips twitch against him, her desire written in every tense line of her body. And still Nil denies what he has commanded of them.
His rolling thrusts never cease: deep enough to drive Kotallo to the brink, not nearly enough to satisfy.
The Carja’s low voice wraps around them all in the embrace of the tent. Outside even the whispering of the waves has quieted out of respect for the world of soft arousal he has carved for them.
“Look at her Kotallo.” His name from Nil’s lips strikes like lightning in his gut.
He is looking. Sharp teeth scrape Kotallo’s jaw and he moans.
“Really look, Marshal.”
Aloy whimpers beneath them. Nil like this sends shivers of warring fear and desire and hunger and anxiety down her spine. His rough fingers tease at her entrance, Kotallo’s cock a hot iron bar always just missing where she longs for him to sink deep. Her own calloused fingers pinch and twist at her nipples, desperate for any sensation she can get. Her spine arches away from the bedroll in vicious pulses.
“See how desperate she is? What have you been denying her Kotallo?”
Her stomach flips and she flicks her eyes to her marshal. The scar across his lips is twisted, expression pinched with pleasure. Sweat glistens across his skin and Aloy longs to arch up and lick every inch she can reach. The head of Kotallo’s cock dips inside and they both shudder. It stretches her gloriously before Nil pulls it away and goes back to his teasing. Green eyes close against the waves of heat and disappointment that carry her.
“How can you bear to have this before you and do nothing?” Nil’s growl scrapes against her shoulder blades, settling in her pounding heart. Another glorious moment of stretch, the hot brand of Kotallo’s tip right there. “To be so close.”
Hips are thrust flush against her and Aloy’s eyes fly open. Nil has relaxed the hand holding Kotallo against him, letting the Tenakth marshal hover over her. Brutal thrusts press Kotallo’s hips bruisingly tight against her and still Nil keeps his cock from sinking inside her. Aloy moans below them, one hand curling around Kotallo’s side and digging her fingers in. Her cunt clenches hard around nothing and she whines, grinding her wet lips up against her marshal. His cock is so hot against her, Nil’s fingers sliding between them.
“A hot, willing cunt spread before you? Aloy’s cunt.” The words grind up from his broad chest, teeth clenched hard to hold his own desire at bay.
Aloy can’t settle. Looking at Kotallo’s pleasure slack mouth, the fire burning in his deep brown eyes. Nil’s cold stare and the hard lines of his face belying the languid tension in his limbs as he fucks Kotallo’s ass. And all that hard muscle above her, sweat slick and glistening. She can’t take it anymore.
Disrupting Nil’s game will earn her her own spot as the loser, but she doesn’t care. She’s been there before and will be again. Right now her cunt is on fire with the need to be filled, to be fucked. To take Kotallo inside her and feel his pleasure, use it to fuel her own. She’s dreamed about this more than once. Even before he’d discovered her and Nil and their little wager. She will not be denied.
She forces her hand between their bellies and knocks Nil’s hand away, sharp nails warning him this is not a fight he’ll win. Kotallo’s thick cock fills her hand and burns against her. A breathless chuckle fills her lungs as she lines him up and Nil’s next hard thrust finally, finally pushes him inside.
Nil’s head echoes with Aloy’s cry. The sweetest sound he has ever known. No matter how hard or fast or often he fills her, every time sounds like the first. He thrusts hard and watches closely as Kotallo’s cock is driven inside her. The marshal is thick. Nil knows this first hand. It must be a glorious stretch by the way Aloy’s hard brows slam together and her fingers twist her nipple hard.
He’ll punish her later.
Kotallo’s ass clenches tight around Nil’s cock and the Carja freezes. Not for the first time he fights the orgasm threatening to take him in its jaws. Aloy’s sweet whines fill his ears in counterpoint to Kotallo’s long, drawn out groan. A dark tide of desire rises up in Nil’s chest and reminds him of their game.
Through bleary eyes Aloy sees the wicked grin curling Nil’s lips, the single minded focus shining in those mirror deep eyes. Her cunt clenches around the thick intrusion of Kotallo’s cock. The heat of him inside her, the sweet burn of holding her hips open wide for his bulk, taking him inside has ignited a hunger deep in her bones. She’s gasping for air, unable to draw a full breath. It’s … overwhelming and so right.
Nil draws them both in a deep thrust and tears well up in the corners of her eyes. She can’t help the keening whimper or the arch of her spine that presses her breasts against Kotallo’s broad chest. Instinct pulls her arms around him, mouthing mindlessly at his skin, his collarbones.
“Open your eyes, Huntress.”
She obeys immediately, blinking away tears until she can see. She’s clinging to Kotallo’s front, his slick, warm skin filling her vision. She pulls back just a little, unable to bear parting from his warmth. Looking up at him, eyes screwed shut against the waves of pleasure rolling over him; it’s like seeing the ocean for the first time. Like looking out over the mountains to see the whole world at your feet. It’s the first time the focus showed her what the world could truly be. Aloy gulps, a million words jamming her throat.
Nil’s low chuckle pulls her gaze back to him again.
“Wondrous,” he murmurs, laughter dancing in his voice.
He thrusts again and Aloy has to fight to keep her head up, determined not to look away.
“That’s what she looks like, Marshal.” He breaks their gaze first, fingers gentling in Kotallo’s hair. “Like you’re the most fascinating thing she's seen all day.” He nips Kotallo’s skin and his hand slides from his hair down his throat. “I’m inclined to agree.” Nil’s long fingers wrap around Kotallo’s jaw and drag him into a sloppy kiss, both too caught up in the moment to care that they can’t quite reach.
One big hand urges Aloy to lie back beneath them, rolling, deep thrusts rewarding her when her back hits the blanket. Kotallo stares down at her, hand free to touch and hovering like he’s uncertain where to start. Nil grins at her over his shoulder, hands cradling Kotallo’s hips and holding him steady.
“Such a feast.” He pushes Kotallo deep, making Aloy arch below them.
She grabs Kotallo’s hand and presses it tight to her breast, encouraging him to feel how his touch makes her tremble. His groan has her gasping, spreading her legs wide and welcoming Nil’s next hard thrust.
“So ready to take us.” The Carja presses forward, urging Kotallo down until he and Aloy are pressed chest to chest, Kotallo’s arm beneath her shoulder to hold him up. She wraps her fingers around his thick bicep, unable to make her fingertips meet.
Their new angle slicks Kotallo’s cock deep inside Aloy’s channel, brushing against something that makes her squeal.
“Can you feel her like this? Feel how she pulses around your cock? She’s so receptive.”
“Please.” Kotallo’s wrecked whisper just barely reaches Aloy.
She reaches up, brushing hair from his face and breathing out a laugh when some paint comes away clinging to the strands.
He’s too far gone to smile back at her, mouth slack and wet against hers. “Please.” His voice is shattered.
And Nil above them smiles that wicked smile. “Are you begging me, soldier?” The thrust that follows rattles Aloy’s teeth. “Are you begging me to let you cum? Or perhaps fuck you harder?”
Aloy has never screamed during sex. She feels like she just might now.
“What are you begging for, Kotallo?” The marshal lets his head drop forward, pressing his forehead to Aloy’s. Brown eyes bore into hers.
“Aloy.” He moans, hot breath washing over Aloy in waves. “I need to cum.”
His rough voice starts a tremble in her belly. Her abs are going to ache like hell later. Aloy lifts her legs, rolling her hips beneath them and clamping her calves tight around Kotallo’s ribs. She wraps her hands in his braids, holding him to her.
“Did he say you couldn’t?” She pitches her voice so that Nil shouldn’t hear it unless he stops his relentless pursuit of their pleasure.
Kotallo shakes his head minutely, whispering against Aloy’s lips.“No.” It takes a monumental effort to force the words from his chest. “But I -” He swallows hard, unable to phrase what he means. But Aloy understands.
“You can cum, Marshal.” She kisses him softly, forcing his eyes up to meet hers. “It’s alright.”
Later she will explain. The pain she suffered growing up. The one time she saw Rost break his own rule and travel to Mother’s Heart for her. Her damn near religious consistency when it came to the decoction he had brought back. Zo’s generosity in supplying her a list of similar plants from the West.
Later.
For now she holds him tight, draws him deeper into her body and presses his head against her throat, staring Nil down over his shoulder. The Carja hunter eyes her with a grin. He can’t have heard them.
But he knows.
Nil has his own reasons for not taking advantage of the extremely useful side benefits of her tea. But he nods at her now. Smoothing a hand over Kotallo’s firm ass he grips the marshal tight and thrusts hard and fast. Kotallo cries out against Aloy’s throat, his cock twitching hard within her and his fingers tangling in the braids spread out above them. Aloy soothes her hand down his back.
“Kotallo.” She breathes, gasping against his skin. “Cum for me Kotallo. Cum for us.”
She can feel the moment he breaks. His back curves up beneath her hand, curling into her as he cums. Nil’s jaw drops, his own orgasm rushing over him. They’re beautiful together. Nil’s abs tense and ripple as he empties himself into Kotallo’s fluttering hole, groaning long and low. Aloy’s cunt floods with warmth, sending ripples of echoed pleasure through her limbs. Kotallo’s hips don’t still, grinding against her, wiry hair of his pubis teasing her clit.
They’re still fucking cumming, wringing every last drop of pleasure from each other’s bodies.
Aloy lets her legs drop open, forcing her hand between hers and Kotallo’s bellies until she can press firm fingers to her clit. One hand wrapped tight around the back of Kotallo’s neck, the other working hard between her legs, she pushes herself fast and rough over the edge. With the feast of glorious man above her, beautiful faces going slack with the pleasure they’ve taken from her body, it’s not a long journey.
She cums hard. Kotallo’s cock is hot and spent inside her and she locks tight around it. Strands of her hair cling to his fingers and tear at her scalp when she tosses her head.
When at last it passes, her limbs are weak and trembling. Hot and wet between her thighs she feels languid tremors rolling through her. Kotallo moans softly against her throat, gentle presses of his hips against her echoing the lingering pulses of her cunt.
Above them Nil gasps for breath. His raven black hair clings together in wet hunks, falling over his eyes and sticking up every which way. The smile he aims at her could chase away a hundred storm clouds and she finds herself breathless all over again. She can’t reach him, pinned beneath Kotallo’s bulk.
Her sulky pout draws out that warm chuckle she loves so much and he leans forward to kiss her softly. He pulls away from them both and Kotallo groans at his absence, letting his weight ease onto Aloy. She chuckles through a grunt, his not inconsiderable weight squeezing the breath from her lungs pleasantly.
“So…” She breathes past his ear, stroking long and slow up his back. Between their legs Nil begins to clean them both; gentle, precise strokes of a cool cloth. “You lost, huh?”
Kotallo huffs, pulling back to stare down at her indignantly. Nil presses a soft kiss to the marshal’s shoulder, silver eyes laughing.
“By a hair.” He chuckles against Kotallo’s skin and flops elegantly beside them. “The Marshal’s a natural.”
“I knew he would be.”
The marshal in question eases himself from Aloy’s body, rolling until he can lie on his back beside them both. A spill of slick makes Aloy wrinkle her nose, but Nil is there in an instant, cleaning Kotallo’s spend from her thighs. He lounges on his side, tossing the cloth to a random corner and casting his eyes over them both. It’s something he does after he’s won, making sure he hasn’t gone too far.
Kotallo groans, sitting up beside them and scratching the back of his neck. “Shall I venture out and find us some dinner?” he asks, colour high on his cheeks. He’s blushing. Aloy melts a little inside at the sight.
“The children might have some choice words about your paint, Marshal,” Nil points out, smile shining in the early afternoon light filtering through the tent fabric. Kotallo’s blush deepens and he looks down at himself. Aloy laughs, running light fingertips around the edge of his smudges.
“I’ve never seen you so bare.” Her finger turns, tracing the gates of Barren Light and reveling in the way his abs twitch.
“Perhaps that should be the next part of your loss.” Nil slides in behind Aloy, sweat damp skin pressing against every line of her back. “To be bare for us, always.”
Kotallo’s deep eyes turn calculating, roving over the offering of bare skin before him. “At least until I win.”