To Be A Harbinger

To Be A Harbinger, pt. 6

"What?"

"Your reward. How do you want it?"

Tartaglia's eyes dropped back to Lucille's pussy. He debated the pros and cons of asking to fuck her, but ultimately decided against it. His voice was quiet. "I want her below me."

His eyes lit up. "Ma Fleur, can you move?"

"Yes."

Scaramouche smiled as he waved her to the end of the bed. She crawled, wincing when her folds brushed against each other too well. "Put your head over here, legs that way, yes, like that. Tartaglia, you'll be the opposite."

The two realized what was happening around the same time. "You want us to..."

"Well, Tartaglia has already said he wants you beneath him, and personally I like the thought of you stuffing your throat with his cock."

Tartaglia didn't move until Lucille sighed, pulling him by the waistband of his pants. He scrambled forward, letting her work him out of his pants. He was already hard, and his dick was huge. Now she understood why Scaramouche wanted her to choke on it.

Soon, Tartaglia was naked, and Scaramouche slowly followed suit. "Prepare him for me, will you, ma Fleur?"

"With what?" Lucille asked as she tried to turn her head to see him.

"Yourself."

A shiver raced down her spine at his words. Slowly, she reached between her legs and gathered up all the wetness she could. Tartaglia hesitantly placed himself in full view, letting her do what she had to. He was mostly embarrassed, but he didn't really want to take Scaramouche raw.

She massaged her cum into his ass slowly, taking her time, making sure her fingers were well lubed before inserting them. Finally, she stopped. "I think that's the best I can do."

Scaramouche inspected her work; he shoved a finger into Tartaglia's ass, and the younger man moaned. "You did better than I expected. He almost feels like a pussy."

Tartaglia shook at the implications. Scaramouche grabbed a pillow and put it under Lucille's head. "You're in for a long ride, ma Fleur."

She faked a smile and settled down. Tartaglia's dick went into her mouth first. Slowly, she did her best to relax and take him, but there was still so much she couldn't fit. Scaramouche laughed, but didn't say anything. Lucille finally saw his dick. It was by no means small, either. He wasn't as big as Tartaglia, but she was confident he could still rip her apart. He smirked at her reaction.

He began to push it into Tartaglia's ass, being careful to keep his pace consistent until he bottomed out. Tartaglia moaned when he felt Scaramouche's balls slap his own. He wrapped his arms around Lucille's legs, serving as both an anchor and a vantage point as he held her to his mouth. Scaramouche slowly pulled out, going all the way to the head, before he slammed back into him. Tartaglia screamed into her pussy.

She realized the big disadvantage of this position. Everytime Scaramouche nailed Tartaglia in the ass, his dick went deeper down her throat. Still, everytime Scaramouche nailed Tartaglia in the ass, he moaned into her pussy. She moaned at the feeling of the vibrations going through her, sending them right back into Tartaglia. It felt like a cycle, almost like Scaramouche had invented a human vibrator, using nothing but vocal cords and skill.

Scaramouche did his best to ruin them. His pace never wavered, and each thrust shattered them. "Let's make this interesting. Tartaglia, if you make her cum, I'll let you fuck me, but if you cum first, then the night is over."

"But, Harlequin, if you do cum before I let you, you won't stop." He smirked down at her. He never stopped his movements, making sure to accentuate his words properly.

"What happens to her if I cum first?" Tartaglia asked curiously, lifting his head and tilting to try to look at Scaramouche. Lucille couldn't understand how he managed to form a sentence. Had he only been moaning into her pussy to make her cum?

"She gets to rest." Scaramouche shrugged. "Trust me, it will be a lot more fun for us if you can hold out."

Tartaglia hesitated, weighing his options. Truth be told, he had wanted to fuck Scaramouche for such a long time. He always wondered what would happen if he turned the tables on that little brat. However, he had no idea how long they'd been going at this before he got here, and he had no idea how long Lucille could hold out.

"How-how many times has she-" he faltered a bit as Scaramouche hit his prostate.

"Seven. Oh, don't worry, she's made it to twelve before collapsing." He said casually. Lucille cringed at the memory. She tasted the blood and cum again, and tears silently leaked from her eyes.

Tartaglia frowned at her pussy. The night was in his hands. Did he damn her for his own selfish pleasure, or did he let her off easy? She surely must be exhausted. Maybe he should just-

"Oh, and Tartaglia, I'll even let you see my face when you fuck me." Scaramouche wasn't really fond of what may happen after the night was over, with his cumming form in Tartaglia's brain, however, he need the excuse to fuck Lucille a bit more. It had been too long since their game started, and he had the need to break something-someone-even if only a little.

His words made up Tartaglia's mind for him. The younger man set upon Lucille's pussy with a new fervor. He couldn't let this opportunity slide; Lucille would just have to forgive him for it. She did her best to suck on his dick, moaning and rubbing her tongue where she could. She was at an awful disposition. Tartaglia's pleasure rested mostly on Scaramouche while hers was solely up to Tartaglia.

She had no doubt Scaramouche would sabotage her on purpose. A thought crossed her mind, and she faltered when she realized it. Was he eager to fuck her sensless, or did he actually want Tartaglia to fuck him senseless? She felt anger rising in her chest. Of course she never stood a chance of winning. He had it rigged from the beginning. He was gay, wasn't he? He'd played her right into his sick little game.

She didn't have to wait long to find out. While she was distracted with her hypothesis, Tartaglia had dragged her to the edge. Before she could stop, she fell over it. She gagged on his dick and writhed beneath him. There was no lying her way out of this, both men saw it as clear as day.

Scaramouche laughed delightedly. He leaned forward to ruffle Tartaglia's orange hair before slipping out of him. "I'll let you gather yourself while I set up her punishment. Don't disappoint me, Tartaglia."