Bestow of Three Henchmen - x Male Reader

Chapter 6: Second Night (1)

In your dream, you were finally sitting on the throne. On your side were three peculiar large hounds on the floor, with fur as red as the blood, and a collar around their neck consisted of full moon shine-like of gemstones. Surrounding you were pools of blood, with red shadow figures of children crouching on top of piles of dead bodies.

Then, you were woken up to an ongoing deep lascivious kiss upon your lips.

You had sat astride, chest to chest over someone's lap within a tight embrace. Impaled already on his stiff member while your hands were tied behind your back in a way that brought you no pain but was strong enough to keep them secure. Your head rested on his bare shoulder, cheek plastered to his fairly cold skin.

By the size and other factors, you immediately comprehended it was Sylvester currently inside you. But he wasn't the one kissing you.

Connor's closed eyes before you; it was so close you could see his thick eyelashes and maybe even start counting on them. His face was as gentle and beautiful as you always remembered it.

Red was the color when Connor broke the kiss off and opened his eyes, along with a pair of pointy ears as he created distance rather behind Sylvester's back. Then, you noticed, that no more scars (initially from years of training and fighting) were visible on his now pale yet flawless skin. There should be a fairly deep one elongated from his chest down to his stomach. It was from the battle against dwarven armies five years back, in the effort to secure a yet unclaimed promising territory quite far down south within the continent—which ended in the defeat of your armies. At the time, along the way back to the capital, you had to pull a fairly callous decision, slightly omitted the other wounded soldiers in order to devote most of the physicians' attention to tending to Connor's injuries...

Before you could ponder further any more things, other fresh memories stormed in too quickly.

'...As if being hit by a giant hammer in the head...'

It was doubtlessly a mere phrase, since no external physical pain ensued. But you sensed so the following-up effect, akin to what one felt after being hit. As though the world around you was spinning. Hard and fast. You felt dizzy. And another reflex to puke, but nothing came out. And then, awareness reigned after the futile attempt to empty your stomach.

That night, you were brought into the pool after Sylvester had decided he still couldn't tolerate Gavin's remaining odor. He cleaned you thoroughly, put special attention to your hole along the process, and devoured you right away right there in the water, for a prolonged time until you were blackened out. You were woken up next in the chaise, to be fed and be given a few drops of several kinds of potions, before they did you again in various ways toward your unconscious state one more time. And then you have woken up again in your bed, already in your nightshirt, to be nourished before finally you were allowed to rest while they sang you an unknown sweet tune in a foreign tongue.

And now, you found yourself once again completely naked in your bed, without your willingness already in the beginning of their obscene deed. Gentle golden lights surrounded you, and the dark sky beyond the windows across, signified you had spent all day in the realm of dreams.

Why didn't anyone wake you up during the day? Where was everybody? Why was everything so quiet?

When Nicholas appeared in your field of vision (as the mattress jutted down) with a small round bottle of potion in his hand, Sylvester's revealings from the night before came to the surface.

Impulsively you turned your face away when the pale man lifted the tip of the bottle against your mouth.

You were pulled into Sylvester's more while a pointy ear pressed in the middle of your chest.