Lunar's POV
My skin tingled and trembled as fingernails danced along my pale-kissed skin, waltzing to my back entrance before violating it with ecstasy. A groan stalked my throat before ripping from my parted lips, my hands strangling the satin sheets. Delicate kisses twirled against my spine as fingers rutted into my body.
Another hand yanked my head back by my hair, pearly white teeth boring into my soul as a twistedly seductive tone escaped them, "Open your mouth."
"Sh-Shit," My body jolted into a sitting position, my pupils darting around the dark guest room of the mansion. I could have sworn I'd seen a figure, but everyone knows your eyes play tricks in the darkness, at least that's what parents tell their kids.
Frantically, I stood up and slipped on my turtleneck and sweater, pulling on my shoes as I quietly stumbled out of the room and snuck downstairs. I was in terrible need of getting home, I didn't think I'd fall asleep during the documentary. It was something about snow leopards. I couldn't think of much else from it, only bits and pieces of other episodes… Deer, Tigers, Seals. I remember something about people talking about vampires, werewolves, witches, and so on. I think it was some horror story show, but who knows?
I paused in the middle of the hallway, curious in my thoughts. Wait, how did it go from animals to supernaturals? My nerves shutoff as my eyebrows furrowed. I don't remember us changing the channel, or the show changing at all. Strange. I wish I'd paid more attention, so I could have remembered what was said.
With a roll of my eyes, I shook at my own distraction, heading towards the exit. I needed to get home, not worry about what was on some stupid television. Besides, I could look it up when I get home, or ask Jax about it. He knows more than I do, shocking for me to think. Don't tell him, or you'll never forget it. What he needs, Subconscious, a bigger ego.
"Mr. Lunar, what do you think you're doing?" My hand started to turn the doorknob of the front door when the light flickered on, my back straightening. I mentally cursed at myself, I must have made a noise or spoken to myself and woken him up. You Stupid Idiot, learn to shut your trap. Learn to follow your advice if you're going to give it.
"I-I need to head home, S-Sir," My body hesitantly faced Mr. Lincoln, fighting the fire trying to burn through my cheeks as I kept my eyes from looking lower. His lack of a suit didn't help the overpowering curiosity that returned, the battle to not glance persistent. He'd now been wearing black sweatpants without a t-shirt, his torso muscular with abs and his head had slightly messy hair instead of his previous nordic look. My hair could never look that nice while messy, it'd be a damn rat's nest. Brushing it is even worse, sometimes I think I ought to shave it instead.
My mind was wandering along the curves I'd gotten from a glimpse, admiring his tattoos with mental drool. His neck had a tatted wolf fang necklace, it kind of made me think of the anime Inuyasha, but not exactly. His right shoulder had tally marks that made snake scales down his arm, fading into what looked like a woman screaming in smoke on his forearm. His left arm had all its scars tattooed, even ones that looked like self-harm saying "I'm Sorry." That arm didn't have much else, probably to give respect to those scars by not hiding them. I didn't get a good look at his chest, and I wasn't about to try and look.
"It's 3 A.M.," He replied, his index finger pointing to the stove clock while his eyebrow raised. His tone was threatening like he knew what I was thinking about, fully bringing back my focus as my pupils met his, "Get back into bed."
"I-I-I need to head home," I dared, nervous as a jackrabbit. Something in me wanted to test my fate and see where it'd take me, but I couldn't place why or where it was coming from. Fuck around and find out sounds nice… For the mercy of Elysium, I will not listen to you, Subconscious… I want to, though.
My breath hitched as Mr. Lincoln strolled toward me, my back against the wall as his hands rested on either side of my head. His irises took my breath away as he cocked, "Don't make me repeat myself."
"I-I-I n-need to get home, M-Mr. Lincoln," I breathed in the scent of apples and whiskey, frozen as we had a tense staring contest. I didn't ignore the amusement in his tone, but I also didn't play games with the threat behind it. I wasn't about to look away, it'd be game over.
"One… Two," A smirk tugged at his lips, his shiny teeth peeking out. I didn't move, swallowing the knot in my throat as his arm lifted to give me an escape, his finger pointing to the stairs. His brow raised once more, the smirk winning its battle as he snapped his fingers, "Final warning."
Why did I want to know what'd happen if I didn't obey? What was so enticing? My mind was beginning to take a stroll through the possible outcomes when movement caught my eye. My pupils darted to Mr. Hayes stepping down the stairs to join us, humored by the scene, "What's going on down here? I take my eyes off you for a moment and you're starting trouble? I can't trust you alone, can I?"
"Mr. Lunar is trying to sneak out of the house," Mr. Lincoln tormented, his finger still pointing towards the stairs. He didn't break his gaze from me, our eyes locked once more as he tattled on me. At least it's not to your mother. Oh, how I can't tell which option is worse at the moment..
"Well, we can't have that this late at night," Mr. Hayes tsked, clicking his tongue at me with a shake of his head and a wave of his index finger, "I guess we'll have to do something about that, hm?"
"Two and a half," Mr. Lincoln grinned with the faintest chortle, snapping his fingers a second time as he continued pointing towards the stairs. Now that Mr. Hayes was in the picture I didn't stand a chance. My feet ran back up the stairs, my body rushing to the guest room as they chuckled louder, "That's what we thought."
My body hid within the blankets at the sound of their nearing footsteps. My heart was stampeding as the bedroom door opened and closed, Mr. Hayes cooing, "Look at me, Little One."
I wasn't afraid at all. More intrigued in a strange way. Something about this was thrilling and had me in a chokehold. Was it because they were my bosses or something else? This was so stupid, but why was it so… enticing?
I gripped the blankets tight when one of them attempted to pull the fabric off my head, causing them both to chuckle deeper. Mr. Lincoln lay on the other side of the bed, pulling me into the middle while Mr. Hayes lay in the spot I was once in. My cheeks pomegranated, my body trembling as Mr. Hayes sweetened, "Please, look at me."
My grip didn't dare to loosen, grasping the blankets tighter when they both tried to win our tug-of-war. I don't know what it was about this but it made this feel like a game of cat and mouse. I should be afraid or angry but nothing in my body had alarm bells instead, I was fascinated. I was having fun, and even though an answer would be nice I didn't care.
"Alright, fine," Mr. Hayes mused, his hold of the fabric vanishing, "Ryker, your turn."
My eyes didn't even get a moment to blink when a hand shoved under the blanket and charged into my jeans. My hips bucked in shock at the rough palming of my crotch, my distraction enough that the blanket was snatched and I was exposed.
I struggled to remove Mr. Lincoln's hold, mostly because I didn't want him to stop. His rubbing grew more aggressive, his free arm wrapping around my hips and pulling me against him as he purred, "Don't fight me, Pet."
He had this roughness in his actions, yet gentleness at the same time. Even though he was being forceful it wasn't like I didn't have a choice, I could pull away at any time and something in his eyes gave me that assurance. He was still delicate like he didn't want me to get hurt, but was firm enough to make my skin tingle. His grip was tight, but loose enough that I could pull away if I desired. It was strange, foreign. I wasn't used to having such a moment where I was given an Out once I was In. That thought made my cheeks burn, and my mind realized what the pet room was for. Th-They have no pets.
His fingers roamed, tugging off my pants, his lips breathing against my skin sending shivers down my spine. I bucked against his touch when his teeth nibbled my throat, the weakest whimper I could manage, "F-F-Fuck."
"Potty Mouth," Mr. Hayes made me look at him, shoving his fingers into my mouth with a stern tone as he flicked my forehead. I'm certain my cheeks could cook smores, his fingers moving back and forth, slow and patient, drawing fog to my brain as his knuckles reached my lips and rested for a moment. He did this pace for a while, stroking and twiddling with my tongue as he held my chin and gaze in place.
"Awe, the little pet likes that," Mr. Lincoln grinned against my throat, my face a tomato as he rubbed my precum all over my thighs, my eyes wide, "Looks like his pathetic little cock would like some more."
My mind had drawn blank at the movement, allowing my body to relax and do as it desired. I choked as Mr. Hayes pulled back his hand and then shoved his fingers further down my throat, a smirk toying on his lips as soon as my throat settled and could handle his force, "Someone's good at deepthroating."
"Should we test that, Tyler?" Mr. Lincoln kissed my shoulder blade, rubbing me harder, "I think that's what he wants, hm?"
I didn't decline or argue, he was correct. I watched him pull my boxers off, listening to him chuckle at my shy little whimper and making me watch as Mr. Hayes stood up.
"Speak for us, Little One," Mr. Hayes purred, playing with his pajama pants, his bulge fighting for freedom, "We want to hear your pretty thoughts."
"Wh-Wh-What's deepthroating?" My tone sounded so innocent it was humiliating but it was honest. I probably sounded like an idiot but I struggled with terms. I was better with actions, not words. Words and terms were and have always been difficult. I could grasp the actions fine, but I often didn't know what they meant. It was embarrassing to admit, especially when people often laugh and tease instead of understanding. Part of me was afraid I was going to get laughed at here, but something told me that wasn't going to happen, "It-It's a stupid question, b-but I'm not good with names of things…Actions make more sense than terms."
"Claiming you will be such a treat," Mr. Lincoln chuckled with a coo against my temple, moving me onto the floor and sitting me on his lap in front of Mr. Hayes. My body trembled sheepishly at something hard under me as his hand took its place back on my groin, his free hand around my neck, "Keep watching Tyler, Pet. We'll teach you everything you need or want to know along the way."
I grew an entire garden of red poppies on my face as I watched Mr. Hayes slip out his cock, stroking it as a chuckle left his lips at my widened eyes, "Speak."
Bark like a dog. Th-This is so not the time for your smartass comments. Quack, Meow, Oink, it'll be funny. Lord Apollyon, shut the fuck up.
"I-I-I'm very sh-shy," I murmured, twirling my thumbs and tapping my index fingers together.
He gave a humored roll of his eyes, Mr. Lincoln forcing my mouth open as Mr. Hayes stepped forward, petting my hair, "If you bite, you're getting spanked. Is that understood?"
The realization that Mr. Hayes' phallus was going into my mouth had my voice playing hide-and-seek before it tagged my shyness, "I-I-I-I-I…"
"Use your words, Little One," Mr. Hayes chortled patiently, rubbing himself and giving me time to think. I shivered as Mr. Lincoln nibbled at my throat, trailing his nails along my thighs.
"I-I-I d-don't kn-know h-how t-to d-do th-this," I was humiliated. I was interested but lost. I'd never done these types of things… willingly at least. This was different. This was new. It wasn't forced. It was sudden, but not in a bad way. Part of me was irritated with myself. I'm in my twenties and I don't understand these things. I know most people know these things, but I'm part of the few that don't… Why is that so difficult to understand? "I-I-I've n-never d-done th-this b-before, a-and I'm g-going to r-ruin things. I-I don't w-want to s-suck at th-these things. Y-You shouldn't b-be doing th-this with s-someone like m-me. I-I-I'm sure there's b-b-better people—"
"Breathe, Pet. We'll take it slow...for a bit," Mr. Lincoln caressed my cheeks, nibbling at my ear as he soothed, a slight threat to his tone. He bit down on my flesh, a weak groan escaping my lips, "Open your mouth for him and breathe through your nose. We'll teach you whatever intrigues you. Tell us and we'll go from there, alright? We want to play with you as you do with us, that's what's important, correct?"
"Y-Yes, S-Sir."