Work Text:
There was never a dull day in Lumiose City. Whether it was the ritz and the glamor or an impending disaster, the city always had something interesting going on. This time, it simply happened to be a never ending stream of portals to pocket dimensions.
Corbeau hadn't slept in days. He dozed, enjoying small lapses in consciousness only when he simply couldn't keep his eyes open longer. When he did fall into fitful slumbers, he had strange and unsettling dreams where a voice kept crying out to him. He'd wake in a cold sweat at his desk sometimes, painfully aware of the crick in his neck and the heaviness of his eyelids.
That night— no, morning if the clock was anything to go by— was no different. Everyone else had gone home already while he, ever a slave to his work, remained behind. Even Philippe had turned in for the night some time earlier, though he promised to be only a call away as always.
A dull, low grade headache had throbbed at his temples for the past week. The sleeplessness didn't help, as Philippe had unhelpfully reminded him several times. Corbeau knew that. Of course he knew, but knowing didn't change any of his responsibilities. He was already frustrated, both with their lack of progress and with their lack of a real solution. He would run himself ragged if that's what it took. Harmony certainly ran herself into the ground on the city's behalf, so it was only fair if he did the same.
Corbeau sighed, pushing his glasses up so he could rub at his eyes. Every time he tried to focus on his computer screen, he simply couldn't do it. The words all swam together, aggravating the ever-present ache in his skull. He needed a break. An actual break. He could get a few hours of sleep and return to work… Or he could take a walk downstairs and try to caffeinate his way through. A few coffee shops opened early enough, and the fresh air would probably do him some good.
He stretched his aching limbs and stood. His joints creaked while his back protested the long hours at his desk. Perhaps a walk was a good idea.
He rode the elevator down to the lobby, finding it devoid of personnel as was expected during that time of night. It was always somewhat uncanny, being the only person around in that vaulted room. He walked quickly toward the front door, only stopping when a flicker of movement and a strange sound in his periphery caught his attention.
A hyperspace portal had opened up in the lobby sometime overnight. Lovely. Just lovely. Corbeau approached the portal cautiously, momentarily forgetting his aborted coffee run. He nearly reached out to touch it before thinking better of it, instead pulling out his rotom phone to make a call.
He dialed Harmony's number, cringing after noticing just how early it was. He'd called her at four in the morning before, but she'd never been particularly happy about it.
It rang a few times before she picked up, her blurry features coming into focus on screen. She was awake, and more importantly, outside somewhere. Corbeau smothered a reflexive pang of worry, knowing better than anyone that she took perfectly good care of herself.
"Corbeau, it's late. Is everything okay?" Harmony kept her voice low, seemingly looking over her shoulder toward something off screen. She walked while she spoke, passing the telltale red barriers of a battle zone. That explained what she was doing up, at least. She was likely the only person in the entirety of Lumiose that kept worse hours than Corbeau did.
"Nothing terribly wrong; a hyperspace portal opened up in the Syndicate lobby this evening. I was hoping you could come take a look at it, but I didn't realize what time it was. My apologies."
"In the lobby? Okay, I'll be over soon, hang tight. Give me thirty minutes?"
"Take your time," Corbeau said, "I doubt that it'll be going anywhere."
Harmony nodded and hung up, leaving Corbeau in silence once again. Maybe he'd have time to go get that coffee before Harmony got there. He could pick one up for her too, he knew what she liked.
As he turned to leave, the portal shimmered. The pitch of its ever-present hum changed slightly, the sound growing louder. Corbeau turned, startled. The opening flashed, and his ears rang. He stumbled toward the vortex, unable to step away from it faster than it pulled him in. His fingers made contact with the opening, brushing against a cool, nearly gelatinous texture with a strange surface tension. His hands breached the portal as it pulled him closer, dragging him into the distortion.
Good thing he called Harmony, he supposed.
His stomach lurched as he entered the distortion. It shared the same terrifying sensation of falling while on the cusp of sleep. His body flinched, heart racing while the world seemed to drop away from him.
His feet arrived underneath him again on polished white marble. He blinked away the spots in his vision, bringing the room into focus. He was back in his office, though it looked like some sort of freaky inverted version of the usual. The black motifs were white instead, sleek and polished. The rock garden and his shelves seemed like they were painted sets, existent but flat where the border of the pocket ended.
Seated at his desk was—well, himself. It looked just like him, in any case. He supposed that shouldn't have been entirely unexpected. Based on the data from a few other portals that Harmony had gone through, she'd seen mirror versions of other trainers from around Lumiose, too.
The working theory was that hyperspace contained subconscious noise from the residents of Lumiose. The mirror versions acted as representations of unconscious thoughts and feelings. It made enough sense, this was his office after all. He was a figure in all of the Rust Syndicate's unconscious thoughts, for better or for worse. While it was definitely weird to see himself in that chair, it was also probably fine… Right?
"Don't just stand there gawking, come here," the other him said. His tone was unusually biting, though that was probably how Corbeau always sounded to others. He'd have to work on that.
Corbeau only hesitated for a moment, deliberating between heeding that command and trying to back out. Of all the silver linings he could imagine, getting a chance to conduct some research on his own wasn't so bad. He strode toward the desk, stopping in front of it as though he was a guest.
"You look terrible," the other him said. He leaned back in his chair, propping his ankle up on his knee. "I suspect you feel just as bad as you look."
As taken aback as Corbeau was, he couldn't disagree with himself. He did feel terrible. When he'd glanced at his own reflection on his darkened computer screen lately, he couldn't ignore his own pallid complexion. Dark circles made their home beneath his eyes, making him look all the more like the scary mob boss he was.
"So what? You know how seriously I take my job," Corbeau said. He lacked the energy to fight those accusations given that they were true.
"Oh sure, I know all about your habits," the other him drawled. "I'm also intimately aware of all of your wants and unmet needs."
The other him pulled out a sleek cigarette case. Slim fingers plucked a single cigarette from the tin, closing it with a click. He fished in his pocket for a lighter, flicking the flint and shielding the flame while he lit it. The room was quiet enough that the crackle of the tobacco catching was audible. The other him inhaled, dragging a long pull into his lungs before exhaling a cloud of smoke with slow satisfaction.
Corbeau's chest ached. His stomach lurched, craving clawed in his gut. He'd quit recently, back when he'd first started spending time around Harmony. She'd told him that he smelled like an ashtray, and he hadn't bought another pack since. His resolve was good, but he'd increasingly dreamed of satisfying that craving. One sleepless night after another whittled away at his willpower.
He wanted what the other him had. A few drags wouldn't kill him.
Corbeau took a step closer to the desk and extended a hand toward the other him. "May I?" he asked, keeping his expression as neutral as possible.
The other him smiled and passed him the cigarette. Their fingers brushed when they exchanged it, though only for a moment. Corbeau realized then how cold his fingers were as he brought the cigarette to his lips.
Smoking an unknown substance that you found in hyperspace? Not your best idea, sir. Philippe's voice unhelpfully chimed in his mind. He rolled his eyes at the thought. Harmony had been feeding Hoopa mystery hyperspace butter for weeks and the poor thing seemed just fine. Hyperspace mystery cigarette be damned. An addict could always sufficiently reason their way into any conclusion that got them what they wanted, if they wanted it badly enough.
Corbeau took a drag from the cigarette. The other him smoked his favorite brand, one with the flavor of menthol and a biting smoothness. It burned in his lungs and the back of his throat. He suppressed the urge to cough, holding his breath on the cusp of discomfort before letting go. The dull ache at his temples went away, lost to the vibrating stimulation of nicotine.
"Feels good, right?" The other him smirked.
Of course it felt good. It had always felt good. It was the remaining self-destructive habit he'd allowed for himself, and he'd given it up to chase a different kind of rush.
Harmony was a rush he dared not touch. He'd spent the night at Hotel Z in the room next to hers. He'd thought long and hard about knocking on her door, about what he would have done if she had answered. He abandoned those fantasies for the sake of professionalism. At least, that's what he told himself. The truth of it all was that he'd been too afraid of what would happen if she refused to answer his call. He secretly pined after her like a lovesick fool, suffocating those desires beneath a mountain of work.
It was better that way, he thought. She was better off without a man like him, anyway.
"You're thinking about her, aren't you?" His other self's words jolted him back to hyperspace.
"She has nothing to do with this," Corbeau grit out. Even if she was on her way there at that very moment, the other him didn't need to know that.
The other him barked out a laugh, a cutting, harsh sound that echoed through the office. He leaned forward, resting his elbow on the desk to prop his chin in his hand.
"Oh, of course she does. I'm you. I'm representative of your subconscious thoughts and feelings. Do you really think I wouldn't know? Just admit it and love yourself a little, would you?" The other him punctuated his statement with a gesture toward the still-lit cigarette in Corbeau's hand.
Corbeau spitefully took another long drag before passing it back to himself. It brought him some small satisfaction that the other him looked irritated by the petulant act.
Love himself, as if that mere concept changed anything for him. Love would not end his long hours, nor would it redeem his shortcomings. It was no lack of love that prevented him from acting on his feelings, but rather a cold professionalism that he wore like a suit of armor. Love did nothing to protect him.
"You're one hard-headed bastard, you know that?" The other him stood up from behind the desk, walking around to stand in front of Corbeau. He took a drag from the cigarette, leaning in too close for comfort. Smoke curled from his mouth as he exhaled, his voice sultry and low. "You should learn to loosen up a little, boss."
Corbeau shuddered, head swimming from a lack of sleep and the buzz of nicotine. He tried to take a step back, only to have the back of his legs hit the desk. Anxiety fluttered in his chest, tightening around his lungs and behind his heart.
The other him closed the gap, boxing Corbeau in against the desk with an arm on either side. He nudged a knee between Corbeau's thighs, applying pressure far too sensually for comfort.
"You're too high strung for your own good."
"Don't touch me," Corbeau breathed.
He felt paralyzed, unable to even shove himself away. His body reacted to the friction between his legs too eagerly, betraying him in favor of stimulation. He'd been much too tired and stressed to relieve himself for some time.
The other him pressed his lips to the side of Corbeau's neck, featherlight. His breath came in a hot puff redolent of tobacco. "You keep on dreaming of someone that can break you down and put you back together. I would know."
Ash dropped and fluttered from the tip of the lit cigarette. The other him whispered again, practically purring straight into Corbeau's ear.
"Let me take you apart."
Just as suddenly, the other him leaned away. He shucked his jacket off of his shoulders, haphazardly tossing the garment into his chair behind the desk. Deft fingers loosened his tie while he took another drag of the cigarette.
Corbeau was flabbergasted, frozen in place when the other him grabbed his chin and tilted his head up. Bony fingertips clutched him hard enough to bruise as their lips met in a stiff, disjointed kiss. Smoke suffused their embrace. He was torn between inhaling and choking; his lungs burned with his refusal.
Kissing himself could have been worse, he decided. Corbeau couldn't figure out whether he enjoyed it or not. He was long past the point of being able to think straight. Perhaps he was merely in some state of psychosis induced from a lack of sleep over many consecutive days.
No. The other him was definitely real. The way his own tongue slipped into his mouth was far too jarring to be a hallucination. The slow grind of the thigh between his legs was far too teasing and urgent to be anything other than real.
"We can keep this between us since you lack the courage to ask anyone else for what you want. I know what you like, I'll take good care of you," the other him cooed.
Corbeau was hard in his slacks. Hard enough that it almost hurt. His pants felt tight, but he kept his grip firmly anchored to the lip of the desk. Giving the other him any kind of satisfaction was out of the question. He refused to touch himself, one way or the other.
The lack of responsiveness from Corbeau didn't seem to bother the other him. His mirror version had no qualms undressing him, loosening his tie and shoving the tailored fabric from his shoulders. The other him groped at Corbeau's chest, unbuttoning his shirt with quick, practiced motions. His shirt was halfway undone when the hum of the portal changed in pitch.
The other him didn't seem to hear the difference, or perhaps he simply didn't care. His hand slid under Corbeau's shirt, dragging the pads of his fingers over one of Corbeau's nipples. He pinched it, wrenching a choking groan from Corbeau's throat.
Corbeau watched as Harmony materialized in their pocket of hyperspace. He locked eyes with her, stifling another sound as the other him tweaked his sensitive flesh again. Harmony gasped, concern twisting into horror.
"Corbeau…?" Harmony's question fell off of her tongue as she got her bearings.
Corbeau tried to speak, tried to beg Harmony to leave, but the words wouldn't leave his mouth. Whatever protest he wanted to offer was smothered, drowned in the greed of another bruising kiss. The other him licked at his teeth and pointedly worked his thigh into Corbeau's bulge.
Pathetically, Corbeau whimpered.
"What exactly am I looking at here…?" Harmony asked.
The other him pulled away from Corbeau. He finally looked over his shoulder to address Harmony where she stood. She held a pokéball tightly in one hand, though she made no moves to throw it. Her eyes darted from Corbeau to the other him, clearly at a loss for what to do.
Corbeau didn't blame her for that. Judging by the furious blush on her cheeks, it was all she could do simply look at them, entangled as they were.
"Excellent timing, Harmony. I was just trying to get the boss here to take a load off. Care to join us?"
"Join you?" Harmony sputtered. Her cheeks burned a shade of red normally reserved for fire pokémon.
It was utterly humiliating, seeing Harmony there while he was pinned to the desk. Corbeau realized that his face felt hot. Embarrassment didn't begin to cover the extent of his shame. He wasn't sure if Harmony would ever look him in the eye again after finding him in such a compromising position.
"Don't listen to the hyperspace version, Harmony. He's clearly deranged," Corbeau said. He did his best to avoid eye-contact, feeling more pathetic by the minute.
The other him undid the last of Corbeau's buttons. The silky fabric fell open, sliding from his shoulders. Harmony scanned over Corbeau's tattoos for a fleeting moment before returning her eyes to his face. Their shared mortification should have brought him comfort. Instead, he withered under her gaze.
Perhaps the sincere inability to move on from this situation fell on Corbeau, rather than Harmony. He averted his eyes, unable to stomach the worried expression etched into her face for even a moment longer.
"Is he hurting you, Corbeau?" Steel came into her voice, bold and sturdy. Corbeau found his heart racing at the sound. Harmony took a few tentative steps forward, hand still gripping her pokéball.
"I have done nothing he doesn't want," the other him said. He rolled his thigh against Corbeau's bulge again, startling a groan from his throat unbidden. "See?"
Harmony crept closer, dropping her pokéball back into her satchel. She hovered just out of arm's length, eyes roving between them. Corbeau lamented his useless panic, his abject paralysis. If only he had found the strength to move sooner, before she'd gotten there.
"Harmony, did you know that we're both quite fond of you?" The other him asked.
"Hey, shut your mouth—aah!" Corbeau's sudden protest was cut off with an undignified yelp as the other him palmed Corbeau's length through his slacks.
"He's been too scared to say it, but I'm not."
"Wait, don't—"
"He's too busy being a tacit professional, admirably restraining himself for the sake of being polite. He's so utterly convinced that his feelings are unrequited that he'd sooner die than confess. Right, boss?"
"Shut up! Harmony, please—" Corbeau pleaded, utterly unheard.
"What do you say to helping him out?"
Harmony laughed, a nervous flighty sound that rang between them. She ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head for a moment to compose herself. Corbeau's heart skipped a beat, either from humiliation or fear, he couldn't tell which. Perhaps it was both. Perhaps the wretched organ would simply burst inside of his chest and spare him the misery of wondering.
"Arceus, Corbeau, why would you ever think that I don't like you too?"
What?
Wait, what?
Corbeau's mouth hung open, shock robbing the words from his tongue. He stared at her in disbelief, momentarily forgetting the absurdity of the situation entirely. Hell must have frozen over. Tepigs could fly. His heart really must have exploded in his chest and this was the hallucination his useless brain had conjured in his death throes.
"I've wanted you practically from the moment I laid eyes on you, idiot," Harmony scolded. She'd narrowed her eyes, glancing once again from Corbeau to the mirrored him, clearly puzzling out the situation. "And you, Mr. Unconscious Desires, what did you mean by 'help him out,' huh?"
The other him grinned triumphantly, having finally gotten his way. "The boss here is wound so tight he's going to keel over from the stress any day now. He's a control freak that can't take a load off. He needs a safe place to fall apart."
Harmony hummed, seemingly mulling it over. Corbeau felt as though he was underwater. His ears swam with the sound of his own racing heart. Roaring blood pounded through his veins, so terribly loud that it rang in his skull.
Harmony's hands cupped his cheeks. She stared at him, her gaze piercing while she looked him over and forced his focus onto her. The heat of her palms on his skin nearly brought tears to his eyes. He wanted to laugh, or cry, or preferably scream. He wanted so badly to look away from her beautiful face. The sensation of her scrutiny felt unbearably like salt in the wound.
Then, unexpectedly, Harmony leaned in and kissed him. Soft lips pressed against his in a deliberate, chaste gesture. His mouth moved against hers, terror making him stiff. When she pulled away, Corbeau really did want to cry. Her hands remained cupped around his face, holding him tenderly like he was worth something.
"Well, boss? Are you going to let me help you, or not?"
Her question was so innocuous. The emotional impact of such a request left him breathless; a verbal one-hit K.O. Corbeau felt like he was going to burst. Deliriously, he wondered if he would be the first human to mega evolve. He overflowed with enough anxious energy that it seemed like a real possibility to his ailing mind.
"Yes," he whispered. He couldn't help delighting in the smile that spread over Harmony's lips. All the humiliation in the world was worth that very smile.
Two pairs of hands hauled him away from the desk. He nearly tripped over his feet on the way over to the couches, attention bouncing between Harmony and the other him. They undid his belt and unzipped his zipper. His pants fell around his ankles while the other him gracefully tugged down his boxer-briefs. His erection sprang free, finally offering some relief from the discomfort of his clothes. He kicked his shoes off then disentangled himself from the pool of fabric at his ankles.
Corbeau was naked, utterly vulnerable. His satchel with his pokéballs was kicked under the couch along with his pants, leaving him truly defenseless. But Harmony was there, and Corbeau felt all the better having the strongest trainer in Lumiose beside him.
The other him kissed Corbeau again, this time with exaggerated depth as Harmony watched them with wide eyes. When they broke apart Corbeau couldn't even locate the shame within himself anymore, drowned as it was in desperate need.
Harmony pushed Corbeau lightly, forcing him to sit on the couch. He fell back against the cushions, mind sluggish from want as she undressed herself in front of him. She crossed her arms and grabbed the hem of her sweater, pulling it up over her head in a fluid motion. She dropped the garment to the floor before wriggling out of her pants and kicking them away with her shoes.
As much as Corbeau had imagined her figure, seeing her there in front of him was something else entirely. The swell of her cleavage and the curve of her hips made his mouth run dry. He reached out to touch her, only to have his hand smacked away by the other him.
It was like watching a car crash. The other him pulled Harmony close, bringing their lips together in a sultry kiss. Corbeau couldn't have torn his gaze away if he tried. Their tongues caressed, wet and shining with saliva. The other him ran his hands over her body, tracing her curves and clutching at her flesh.
It was exhilarating and maddening at the same time. It felt like he was watching some kind of lewd home video right out of one of his fantasies. Arousal and jealousy congealed in the pit of his stomach, boiling over as a choked groan when the two pulled away.
Harmony looked Corbeau over, face flushed and teeth bared in a giddy smile. She came to straddle him on the couch, finally allowing him to touch her. He ran his hands over her skin, marveling at the softness wherever he touched. He cupped the curve of her ass, tracing the inner line of her thigh at the junction.
She whined into his mouth, kissing him fervently. She licked at his teeth, bracing her hands on his shoulders while they kissed. Corbeau brought his hands along her back, fumbling for the clasp of her bra until it came loose.
She broke the kiss, sitting up straight and panting. She tossed her bra aside, exposing herself without shame. He caressed beneath her breasts, drawing his hands up to palm them. He circled his thumb over her pert nipple before pinching it slightly. Harmony whimpered, her hips stuttering in his lap.
Arceus, she was perfect. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. Every sound she made robbed him of all reason, just as every shuddering movement she made in his lap did. He wanted more, he'd dreamed of it often enough, but the real thing was so much better.
He leaned forward, laving his tongue against her other nipple. She moaned, clutching at his shoulders while he mouthed at her breast. He kissed her sternum, working his way over to the other side of her chest. She trembled against him, though her next moan was smothered by a kiss from the other him.
Corbeau no longer had the presence of mind to be jealous. Harmony was in his hands, in his mouth, practically all around him. When he watched the other him nipping at her bottom lip, he wondered again if he'd entered into some advanced state of psychosis. It might have all been some beautiful dream, but the feel of Harmony against him was so wonderfully real.
He liked how she felt, how she tasted. When the other him paused his ministrations, Corbeau liked the way that Harmony looked at him. There was a reverence in her gaze, in the way that her hands moved over him. Her fingertips traced over circular scars from cigarette burns, long since inked over with swirling colorful tattoos. Her teeth grazed the skin of his neck, dragging over sensitive flesh before leaving indents and speckled red bruises in her wake.
Harmony slid from Corbeau's lap, standing up in front of him to remove her panties. The fabric dropped to the floor, glistening with viscous fluid. Corbeau drank in the sight of her, eyes drawn to the neatly manicured strip of hair resting above her arousal. Strings of fluid clung against the insides of her thighs, indicative of just how turned on she must have been.
"Fuck," Corbeau muttered. There was no other word more fitting to describe the overwhelming, burning need he had to taste her.
"What do you say we put on a show for him?" The other him asked, murmuring directly into Harmony's ear. He came to stand behind her, caressing his hands over the curve of her stomach and down to rest on her mound.
"Sounds lovely," Harmony said. She wiggled her hips against the other him teasingly.
Slowly, the other him slid his hand down to caress Harmony's folds. She shuddered against him, quietly whining as his touch passed over her clit. It sounded wet, squelching quietly when his fingers slid against her dripping cunt. Each flutter of fingers and roll of his wrist drew breathy sighs from Harmony's lips.
Corbeau nearly choked, forcing himself to focus through arousal so intense he nearly blacked out. He brought a hand to his own neglected cock, stroking the length of it while he watched the other him finger Harmony. It really was like his own personal porno, so ludicrously perfect that he could have died happy right then and there.
The other him withdrew his fingers, allowing Harmony to step away toward the couch. He strode up to Corbeau and shoved his fingers in his mouth, forcing the taste of Harmony against his tongue. Corbeau, hungry as he was, licked up every drop of her sweet taste without hesitation.
Harmony sank to her hands and knees on the tatami mats in front of the couch. The other him came down behind her, lining himself up with her entrance. He rubbed his cock against her slickness, teasing her with his length before pushing inside. Harmony moaned as she took the other him to the hilt, pushing her hips back into him.
Corbeau sputtered, suddenly jealous and pathetic all over again. They tormented him on purpose, smiling at him with their fucked-out expressions while they had their way without him. He would have been angry if it wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen.
The other him rolled his hips in teasing motions, pulling out nearly all the way before fucking back inside. Harmony cried out when the other him thrust particularly deep, back arching and mouth lolling open.
Just when Corbeau thought he was really going to go insane, the other him pulled out completely. Harmony shifted positions, crawling between Corbeau's legs. She nudged his knees apart, settling herself comfortably at mouth-level with his cock.
She pressed her lips to the head of his cock, featherlight and teasing. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth, lapping at the fluid that beaded out from the tip. Harmony licked a stripe from root to head, tongue hot and slick against his length.
Corbeau huffed out a sound that wasn't quite a moan. Every lapping tease threatened to send him into orbit. The blood in his ears roared again while she blinked up at him through her lashes, pretty eyes seemingly glittering when they met his.
She finally took him into her mouth and Arceus, how hot and wonderful it was inside. She bobbed her head in languid motions, taking him to the root without gagging once. Corbeau wove his fingers into her hair, ignoring the way his hand shook.
The other him moved behind Harmony, bringing his hands to her hips. He positioned himself carefully before sliding inside. Harmony moaned around Corbeau's cock, tongue faltering where it pressed against the underside. She clutched at Corbeau's thighs, seemingly grounding herself against him while she tried to regain her rhythm.
Corbeau guided Harmony's head, keeping her pace steady even when the other him thrust into her. Her concentration failed a handful of times, though Corbeau couldn't blame her for it. After all, he was just as distracted by the sight of her getting spitroasted between them.
Okay, he really could have died happy then. It was everything, a once in a lifetime opportunity that still seemed too good to be true.
Maybe it was too good to be true. He knew he wouldn't last if things kept up like that. He was practically ready to burst as it was, but he wasn't willing to quit until he got his fill of all of her.
With effort only reserved for mythological heroes, Corbeau guided Harmony's mouth completely off of his cock. Her lips were slick with spit and slightly puffy from the effort of sucking him off. She smiled at him, almost lovingly, as the other him pulled out from her.
"Please fuck me," Corbeau whispered. He was a proud man, but he wasn't above begging at that point. If he had to watch the other him flaunt his penetration for one more moment, he was going to scream.
"Of course, boss," Harmony teased. "All you had to do was ask." Pride be damned, hearing Harmony speak to him like that made Corbeau whimper.
He laid down over the couch, suddenly thankful for the sprawling furniture. The cushions were wide enough for him to lay back without his shoulders touching the side or hanging off. They were wide enough for Harmony to comfortably settle over his hips in a straddle, much like she had earlier.
Corbeau set his hands on her waist, tracing lazy circles over her skin while she teased his cock. She was still slick, dripping and scorching hot where she touched him. She grasped his shaft with one hand, angling it to comfortably fit inside her when she sank down.
"Shit," Corbeau breathed. It was like she was made for him. He fit perfectly, so snug in her fluttering heat. Fuck, it was everything he'd ever wanted and more.
She rolled her hips, shifting with smooth motions that felt so unbearably good. Her palms rested on his chest, fingers splayed over swirling ink. Corbeau bit the inside of his cheek, trying and failing to stifle a keening sound while she rode him.
Harmony kept him on the edge, slowing her pace to an agonizing tease that made Corbeau's eyes water. She eventually slowed to a stop, sitting down to take his full length entirely while he gasped. She clenched around him, grinning wickedly when he groaned and twitched inside of her.
"Mirror Corbeau, come here," she said. The other him complied, attending their sides patiently until further instructions were given. "Get yourself wet," Harmony drawled. She gestured vaguely toward Corbeau's mouth as she said it, exchanging a knowing look with the other him.
Corbeau suddenly realized what that look meant when his own cock hung heavy over his mouth. He glanced at Harmony nervously, nearly lucid for the first time all evening. She smiled and tapped her bottom lip with her index finger.
"Be a good boy and open up for him, Corbeau." She teasingly clenched around Corbeau again as she spoke, clearly relishing the way his mouth fell open without complaint.
Corbeau had sucked dick before, but sucking his own had an uncanny quality to it. It both was and was not embarrassing, just as it simultaneously was and was not masturbation. He earnestly tried to make it good, sitting up just enough to get the mirror version's cock in his mouth at a good angle. Even when his focus became compromised by Harmony shifting her hips, he lapped his tongue and hollowed his cheeks around the intrusion in his mouth.
The other him pulled away, cock glistening with saliva. He moved behind Harmony once again, taking a moment to get settled amongst the tangle of legs on the couch. Harmony shifted her weight forward, leaning so that the other him could bring his hips in close.
"Wait, hold on—" Corbeau tried. The other him didn't listen, bringing the head of his cock to Harmony's entrance.
The other him slowly pushed inside. Harmony's face twitched, first in discomfort, then in concentration. Corbeau wheezed from the sudden tightness around him. The mirror version's cock rubbed against his, slick and strange, but somehow delightful.
The three of them sat like that for a long moment, allowing Harmony to accommodate the stretch. When she finally moved, all three of them gasped, sucking in breaths through their teeth. Her fingernails scraped against Corbeau's chest as she rocked her hips.
Corbeau moved in time with the cant of Harmony's hips. He panted, overwhelmed from the tight friction that felt oh so good. He brought one hand to Harmony's mound, rubbing the pads of his fingers against her clit while she rode them. She threw her head back with a wanton moan, a breathy, uncontrolled utterance that made both men groan in satisfaction.
She moved a little faster, chasing her own pleasure while her partners whined and panted along. Tears pricked the edges of Corbeau's eyes, brought on by overstimulation and desperation.
Fuck, he'd never wanted to cum so badly in his life. He stared up at Harmony through bleary eyes, marveling at the woman who saw fit to give herself to him. His heart seized, a kaleidoscope of vivillon fluttering in his chest.
Harmony clenched around them, twitching and keening in pleasure as Corbeau's fingers worked her over the edge. She shuddered, fucking herself on their cocks while she rode out her orgasm.
Her quivering heat and the sweet friction of the other him finally pushed Corbeau past his limit. He cried out, voice cracking as the sound tore out from his throat. Tears welled in his eyes, finally dripping free in streams of saline that rolled down past his temples. He spilled inside of her, cock twitching as his release overtook him. The other him groaned, shuddering from the myriad of sensations assailing him too.
When Harmony finally stopped moving, her thighs trembled. She hovered slightly above Corbeau's hips, unable to relax until one or both of them pulled out. The other him moved first, sliding free with deliberate slowness. Corbeau followed suit, shuddering from the dripping sensation of their collective release spilling down onto his skin.
Harmony collapsed onto his chest, taking long, slow breaths in his arms for a few moments. Somehow, holding her like that felt just as good as everything else.
"We have to move before the portal closes," Harmony said. She sounded groggy, likely just as tired as Corbeau suddenly felt.
When they finally found the will to sit up, the other him was gone. Their clothes were still scattered under the couch and across the room. Corbeau wiped up the mess on his hips with his underwear, cringing and offering them to Harmony to use.
They dressed in a hurry, conscious of the changing pitch of the portal's hum. Corbeau barely grabbed his suit jacket in time before the portal whirred and spat them back out into the Rust Syndicate lobby.
Fortunately, the sun had yet to rise outside. Corbeau counted his blessings that no one had come in for work yet, thankful that the lobby was silent and empty. Harmony swayed on her feet, clearly just as exhausted as he was from their shared sleeplessness and ordeal.
"Care to stay here for the rest of the night?" Corbeau asked. Harmony nodded, grateful that she wouldn't have to worry about the long trek back to Hotel Z.
He took her hand, pulling her to the elevator and swiping his ID card for the top floor. The doors opened to his apartment, quiet and still in the early morning hours. They kicked off their shoes and stumbled to the bedroom, only briefly stopping in the bathroom to do another half-assed cleanup job while they were still conscious enough to care.
Corbeau readied himself for bed with mechanical efficiency after showing Harmony the guest bathroom. He brushed his teeth quickly, only fleetingly remembering the sensation of his own cock in his mouth. He nearly choked on the toothpaste, gracelessly spitting it into the sink.
Corbeau remembered to pull out his rotom phone when he finished. He shot a text to Philippe stating that he was definitely taking the morning and probably the first half of the afternoon off. With that taken care of, Corbeau finally took a long, hard look at himself for the first time in weeks.
His reflection stared back at him from the mirror. He seemed gaunt and exhausted, dark circles and pallid complexion. He'd certainly looked worse, though he could hardly remember when. His hair was disheveled, his usual styling disrupted by grease. Most pleasantly, his neck was covered in a trail of bite marks and hickeys left behind by Harmony in her eagerness.
Corbeau couldn't help smiling to himself.
Arceus, he was already in so deep.
Harmony met him back in the bedroom. She'd made herself at home, crawling between the cool sheets and settling into his bed. The sight nearly brought tears back to Corbeau's eyes, sleepless as he was. For all the nights he'd privately spent pining over her, she was finally sharing a bed with him. While they would talk more about what that meant when they awoke, he gave himself permission to savor the moment as it was.
Corbeau climbed into bed beside Harmony, taking her into his arms for a moment before his eyelids felt too heavy to hold open anymore. He hovered on the cusp of sleep when Harmony's quiet voice jolted him back into wakefulness.
"Corbeau," she said, voice thick from exhaustion. "Please don't report that portal in your research findings. I think I might die from embarrassment if anyone else finds out what happened in there."
Corbeau laughed, hugging Harmony tighter to his chest.
"Darling, I would never dream of it."